#I spent most of my money on weed and gas

[rosicheeks]

Oh shit I'm sorry, I didn't realise! But you know what...why not just combine the ideas! Have your delicious dinner with the fam, pop out to the shop to grab some ice cream and/or snacks. Pack a bowl (or 3). Come home get super warm and snuggly under a blanket and enjoy a nice comfy movie!

Hm maybe!

[pinksturniolo]

Robbers - A Chris Sturniolo One Shot (AU)

Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Chris Sturniolo is a part of The Disciples, one of the most notorious Portuguese gangs in Boston. For the past year and a half, you’ve witnessed him take part in the most dangerous crimes. But what happens when one day, you're forced to participate with him? You know it’s extremely toxic and goes against all your morals. Despite that, you just can’t help the way you love him, the way you would do anything for him. Even rob a gas station.

Content Warnings: smut, raw penetration, fingering, oral, themes of criminal activity and violence, mentions of shooting, guns, and blood. descriptions of gunshot wounds, gun play, drugs and drug use, smoking, use of alcohol, murder, robbery, toxic relationship

a/n: I do not condone any actions in this story or promote gun violence. I do not intend in any way shape or form to offend anyone. This is one is a little dark and has a lot of mature themes as well as a gun kink, which can be uncomfortable for people. Please only read what you can handle. <3

word count: 6,452 (!!!!) ik it's long but pls read it all, i spent a lot of time on this one.

Watch this music video before reading, just trust me: The 1975 - Robbers (Official Video) (Explicit) (youtube.com)

Fall 2025

You drop your cigarette to the ground, your sneaker snuffing out the cherry as you crush it against the wet concrete. There’s a light drizzle tonight, temperatures dipping as early September arrives in the city of Boston.

You sigh, leaning your head against the brick wall and tucking your hands into the hoodie of your pocket. What’s taking him so long?

Your boyfriend had been inside the house for 30 minutes now and it was making you nervous. Each time you went with him to these types of jobs, you were scared. You would never let him see that, but you were always worried something bad was going to happen.  

Granted, he knew how to take care of himself perfectly fine, but it was the other people he was meeting up with you didn’t trust. You were constantly on edge every time you would wait for him, anxious whether he would come back to you alive.

He didn’t like the idea of you coming along with him at first, but when you convinced him it didn’t make a difference whether you stayed home and waited for him or if you came along, he eventually gave in, making you take a gun with you just in case you needed to use it.

He had taken his time to teach you how to hold and shoot it properly, making sure you wouldn’t fuck up and accidentally shoot yourself. He taught you a lot of things, like how to throw a good punch without breaking your hand, how to roll a blunt the right way, how to steal from the liquor store without getting caught.

You met Chris almost a year and a half ago now, at a mansion party one of your friends had dragged you to one night. She begged you to go, saying her friend Jonah there knew a guy, who knew a guy, that knew this one guy that had the best weed in the city.

She failed to mention this guy was a member of The Disciples. His name was Chris Sturniolo and he was known to beat up anyone who crossed him. You had heard rumors before about him, he sold a lot of drugs, and he didn’t fuck around when it came to his money.

So naturally, you were a little intimidated when you were introduced, sitting next to him on the large plush white couch. His friends sat around him, smoking and talking amongst themselves, and you noticed the looks they gave you and your friend. You definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Hi, I’m Layla, my friend Jonah said you could get me some K2.” Your friend said, like she had done this a thousand times before.

“What’s up Layla. Who’s your friend?” Chris asked, looking straight to you.

You fought the urge to shrink into the couch, his piercing gaze burning into you. His long hair stuck out from his beanie, smoke filtering through his nose as he inhaled the joint he was puffing on.

“Uh, this is Y/N.” She replies, looking at you hesitantly. “She’s a little shy.”

You smiled awkwardly, the look in his eyes still making you squirm in your seat.

“You look too good to be here, mama.” he says, grabbing a baggie from his pocket, handing it to Layla. She takes it, getting the money from her pocket to give in return but he simply shakes his head. “Keep it.”

She looks shocked, looking at you again and you shrug, unsure why this drug dealer is giving you both a free pass. His eyes haven’t left you, looking you up and down without shame. You feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes but the longer you make eye contact with him, you don’t feel uncomfortable. You feel curious, like there’s a magnetic pull in between you two.

“Want a taste?” he asks, motioning with his head for you to come closer, holding out the joint for you to try.

You hesitate for a few seconds before you scoot closer to him on the couch, your thigh now brushing his. He smirks and holds the joint close to your mouth as you close the gap, leaning forward a little to wrap your lips around it, slightly touching his fingertips.

You take a small hit, inhaling the smoke into your lungs as you lean back into place, his eyes on your mouth as you exhale.

Your friend Laya feels the obvious tension that’s now in the room, watching the interaction between you two. “I’m gonna go find Jonah.” She says to you, and you simply nod, never breaking eye contact with Chris.

The loud music of the party vibrates through the room, making it hard to hear but you don’t need to exchange words to know what you both are thinking. He takes another hit, holding the smoke in his mouth as he leans even closer to you, placing a hand on your jaw, silently telling you to open your mouth. When you do, he hovers his lips over yours, blowing the smoke into your mouth and you inhale, holding it for a few seconds until you blow it out.

He then moves his head down, placing a single soft kiss on your neck, directly under your jaw and whispers in your ear, “Meet me in the bathroom.”

Needless to say, you’ve been attached to each other since that night, a whirlwind romance from the start.

Chris finally comes around the side of the house, backpack around his shoulder. You sigh in relief, and he smiles when he sees you, putting an arm around your waist as you walk next to him towards the car. “Worried about me, baby?” He teases, opening the passenger side door for you.

“Always.” You reply and he closes the door, walking around to get into the driver’s seat, throwing the bag in the back. He takes off, one hand on the steering wheel and the other rests on your thigh. You can’t help but notice something a little off about him though. He’s not very talkative like he usually is, and his hand grips the wheel a little too hard, his body tense.

“Chris, what happened in there? Why did it take so long?” You ask, looking at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. And what you see makes your stomach turn because you see an emotion across his face that you’ve never seen before.

Fear.

He licks his lips nervously, looking back to the road. He knows that you noticed. “We’ll talk once we get back to the house, okay?” he replied, giving a reassuring squeeze on your thigh.

You were only about 10 or 15 minutes away, but you had a strong feeling that something was really wrong. “Don’t bullshit me. Tell me now.” You demand. He looks at you, not liking the tone of your voice. “Please.” You add a little softer and he sighs, knowing that you wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“The deal went fine. Jason seemed to be satisfied with the profit from last month. But he wants me to do a job next weekend…” He starts, looking more nervous by the minute.

“Okay? What job?” You pry, not understanding what was wrong. Jason is Chris’s “boss” and usually gives the orders on what to do. He also supplies Chris with all the drugs he needs to sell, cutting him in on half the earnings. Which is considered generous in his line of work. As long as Chris does whatever he asks.

“He wants me to hit a gas station. The one on the corner of South Street. But it’s not just any old gas station. It’s a front for a drug spot and they’re stealing a lot of our customers. So, I gotta bust it. But Jason doesn’t want anyone dead, he’s gonna have some of his guys go in after I’m done and take them to the warehouse. I just gotta get away with the cash and drugs.” He explains.

“By yourself? What about Tommy?” You ask. Tommy was one of Chris’s partners and usually went on jobs like these with him.

Chris stays silent for a few minutes, his eyes focused on the road. He makes a left turn, both hands on the wheel now. The streetlights passing cast a yellow tinted light into the car, and you can see whatever internal struggle is going through his head right now on his face.

“Chris?” You say quietly, leaning forward to try and get him to look at you.

He doesn’t though, his jaw clenching and hands tightening on the wheel.

“Not by myself… He wants me to bring you.” he finally says quietly.

You’re unsure of what to say, not really processing what he’s telling you.

“What do you mean? Bring me with you to the job? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” You ask, utterly confused about what’s going on.

“I mean he wants you to do the job with me. Be my partner.” He replies, now pulling into the driveway of his house and putting the car in park. Now he turns to fully face you and his expression is a mix of anger and regret.

“Ever since you started tagging along with me, Jason hasn’t liked it. He says this work is no place for a woman. I really don’t give a fuck about what he says, I never have. I’m not stupid, I know I’m risking a lot by even having you around someone like me. But I told you from the start, I will always protect you. Nothing and no one is gonna lay a fucking finger on you.” He says, his hand coming up to stroke your face.

You grab his wrist, holding his hand there. “Hold on- he wants me to help you rob the gas station?” You ask, your heart racing as you now understand what Chris means. You knew Jason never liked you, you got a dark vibe from him the few times you had been around him. In fact, you don’t think he liked anybody. Chris told you many stories of how ruthless he could be.

“Baby, you’re not doing anything he says okay? I’ll take care of it.” He said, the tone in his voice making it clear he doesn’t want to discuss this any further.

Before you can question him more, he gets out of the car and comes around to open your door, helping you out and closing it behind you as you both walk into the house and upstairs to his room.

He takes off his hoodie and shirt, and turns on the shower, letting the water run so it can warm up.

“Chris… If I don’t go with you, who’s going to?” You ask, the gears turning in your head.

He shakes his head, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “No one.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, still not grasping the big picture here. “You can’t go by yourself. That would be too dangerous.” You speak.

“Y/N, please stop. We’re not talking about this anymore, okay? I’ve told you enough already.” He replies shortly, taking off his jewelry and setting it on the bedside table.

“Just answer me one thing.” You continue, determined to get the full story. “What happens if you go against what Jason says and do the job by yourself?”

Chris doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you. You know that you probably pissed him off now by pressing him for answers, but you didn’t care. You deserved to know the full situation. If he was in danger, you needed to know.

A few minutes go by, steam starting to fill the room from the shower. He simply sits at the edge of the bed with his back to you, running a hand through his hair.

“Chris. What are you not telling me?” You say, your voice slightly rising and there’s a hint of desperation as the pit in your stomach grows. There was something completely off here.

“Fuck.” You hear him silently curse before he finally tells you. “If I don’t make you do the job with me, I’m dead. It’s his sick fucking way of showing his power over me. He knows that I won’t put you in danger. So, he’s using my life as leverage.” His head is now turned slightly towards you, staring at the spot on the bed next to you. He’s afraid to look you in the eyes.

You’re speechless as he gets up and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Tears fill your eyes, and you feel sick to your stomach. It seems you’re now faced with an impossible choice.

Either risk your life and freedom to commit armed robbery or have Chris murdered by his sadistic gang boss.

When Chris finally comes out of the bathroom, you’ve created a lake of tears on your pillow from crying so hard. You’re extremely upset with him for dropping that bomb on you and just leaving you there in shock. But honestly, you probably would’ve just argued with him till your lungs gave out and maybe it was a good thing he left you alone to process.

You know Chris too well to know that he’s made his mind up about the deal Jason has given him. He’s going to give up his life just so you don’t have to risk yours. But you’ve just as equally made up your mind as well. There’s no fucking way you’re letting Chris go by himself on that job.

“Baby… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He says, getting in bed next to you. You’re faced away from him and he lays close to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing kisses to your shoulder. “I know thisis fucking crazy, okay? But I couldn’t keep it from you. Don’t worry, okay? Everything’s going to be- “You cut him off, turning around abruptly to look at him.

“I’m going on that job with you. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.” You interrupt. His face is soft, obviously not taking you seriously and he brushes your hair back, letting his hand trail down to rest on your shoulder.

“Just get some rest, Y/N. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” he replies.

“No Chris, I’m serious. You’ve taught me how to take care of myself, right? And we have until next week, we can plan- “You start but he shakes his head, placing his hand back on your jaw, his thumb softly rubbing across your lips, stopping you from continuing.

“No. I don’t want you getting into this. This is not up for debate. This is dangerous now.” He says sternly.

You grab his hand from your face, a little roughly, now placing a hand on his neck, looking deeply in his eyes. “Do you really think I give a fuck about how dangerous this is? Chris, I’ve been by your side through a lot of shit. If we can just get through this job and do what Jason says, we’ll be fine. No one is dying, okay? I love you and you’re going to let me help you. And that’s the end of the discussion.” You tell him, a flicker of emotions crossing his face as you speak.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wraps his arms around you, pulling him into you and you lay your head on his chest while you both drift off to sleep.

✰

It takes a few days for Chris to accept the fact you’ll be going on the job with him. He’s a little distant from you at first, angry with you for what you’ve decided but mostly just afraid of what will happen. Since he’s met you, he’s wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. He knows his lifestyle is not good for you, not good for anyone. And now that it’s come to this point of putting you directly in the line of danger, he’s scared shitless. And he wants to kill Jason for putting both of you in this position.

But he goes over the plan with you, making sure you know every step.

Tommy will drop off both of you across the street from the store, and once you get inside, you’ll only have 30 minutes to get in and out. You’ll hold the cashier at gunpoint while Chris goes in the back office where the drugs and money is supposed to be stashed.

There will probably be another guy back there, but he’ll take care of him. As soon as Chris is done, a couple of Jason’s men will come in and finish the job, taking the rivals to him, and you both can leave with Tommy. The gas station is only a few miles from the Disciples’ warehouse, so once you get there you can drop off the goodies and be done.

Easy, right?

Chris goes over the steps again at least a dozen times on the day before the job. You start to get irritated, and he notices, giving you a hard look as your eyes glaze over when he’s talking. “Y/N. Pay attention, please.” He says, as he unloads the bullets from his .45, taking it apart to clean it.

You roll your eyes and rest your chin in your hands from where you sit on the bed. “Chris, I know the plan already. Can we talk about something else now?” You whine, watching him as he puts the gun back together.

He smirks at the tone in your voice. “Just making sure, baby.” he replies.

You can’t help but stare at him as he puts the parts of the gun back together, his arms flexing with his movements, veins in his hands popping out. A pair of black sweatpants hangs lowly on his hips, his shirt is off, and his hair is messy from the nap you took together earlier.

Also, the little pink pill you popped with Chris about 20 minutes ago is starting to take effect as you feel a slight floating sensation in your body, your heart rate picking up just a little. The air around you becomes intensified and Chris looks over at you, noticing your longing stare.

“You good?” He asks, eyes travelling down your body to your bare legs hanging off the edge of his bed. The only thing you have on is an old t-shirt of his and your black panties.

“Mhm.” You nod, staring at the gun in his hands.

There was just something so hot about him holding it like that.

He walks over, now standing in front of you, and places a finger under your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. Your eyes are glossy and low, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, admiring how pretty you look like this.

“You high baby?” He says lowly, and you reply with a nod of your head as he holds one side of your face in his hand, bringing the gun up to lightly stroke over the other side.

This causes a chill to run down your spine, wetness immediately pooling in your underwear. You’re not scared. You trust Chris completely, even if it was loaded.

He then lets it trail down further slowly, over your neck and between your breasts, dipping down your stomach to in between your thighs where he teasingly rubs it over your panties, bumping against your clit.

You sigh into his hand that’s gripping your jaw and his thumb slips into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around him, looking up into his eyes. His pupils are blown out, watching you get pleasure from his weapon between your legs.

You know its crazy but the sexual energy behind it turns you on more than anything.

He removes it suddenly, placing it on the bed and before you can whine in protest, he climbs on the mattress behind you, instructing you to scoot back so he rests against the pillows, and you sit in between his legs. There’s a large mirror in front of the bed and you lean back against his chest and watch while he trails his hands down your arms, and then your hips, resting on top of your thighs and squeezing.

Your head falls back as he places his lips on your neck, kissing softly and sucking at the skin there, leaving his mark on you. He massages your inner thighs, thumbs brushing close to where you need him the most.

“Don’t tease me.” You breathe, gripping his knee, one hand going up behind you to tug on his hair.

“What do you need, baby?” He mumbles into your neck, his hand now pressing over your underwear, palming your heat. You buck your hips slightly, pulling harder on his hair. He grunts into you, his other hand squeezing your waist. You feel his hardness growing, pressing into your ass.

“I need you. Please.” You whimper, your head resting against his shoulder. He gives into you, loving the way you beg for him, and dips his fingers into your underwear, slicking through your folds, arousal coating his fingers.

“So wet for me…” He rasps, rubbing your clit in slow, agonizing circles, making you melt into him. You moan out loud, sinking your teeth into his neck as he pushes your panties to the side now, and moves his fingers down to your entrance, pushing one in all the way to the knuckle and then pulling it all the way out, once again going back up to massage your clit.

He’s torturing you and you’re a mess beneath him, leaking out onto the sheets, squirming from the pleasure and he holds you down firmly. “Chris, please.” You beg, unsure what you’re trying to say as he has you in a state of bliss.

“Be a good girl for me.” He responds firmly, watching you in the mirror as he thrusts two fingers back inside you, stretching you out, wetness coating his hand. He moves at a faster pace now, curling as he pushes them deeper. He holds you tight, your head thrown back in ecstasy, puffing hot breaths against his neck, sweet moans filling his ear.

“Fuck, Chris, just like that.” You whine, feeling a familiar warmth in your abdomen build. He doesn’t stop, his thumb now circling your clit, his fingers hitting your g spot with each thrust.

“Look at me baby.” He demands and you lift your head up, making eye contact with him in the mirror, watching as he fucks you with his hand, your legs spread open for him.  

“I’m so close.” You moan, the sparks of pleasure he’s created spreading within you. You move your hips with each thrust of his fingers into you, Chris moaning with you as your ass repeatedly grinds back against him.

“Already, mama?” He teases, unable to hide the smugness from the fact he’s always able to make you finish quickly.

“Chris.” Is all you can manage as his fingers continue to slip in and out of you, pushing you to the edge.

“I know, baby, you’ve been so good for me. You can cum baby, cum on my fingers.” He praises, and his arm is around you, holding you as your body shakes, basically riding his hand at this point. Seconds later, you release the tension that’s been building, crying out loudly as warmth floods your body, thighs clenching and your juices releasing onto the sheets beneath you.

You’re extremely tired now, your body relaxing against him as he slowly moves from under you, getting up from the bed to grab a towel to clean you up.

He does so, rubbing your legs gently, brushing your hair back from your face as you lay against the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, laying down next to you.

“Get some rest, baby.” he says quietly, cuddling close to you as your eyes grow heavy. “But Chris, don’t you want- “you start, knowing he needs to be attended to as well.

He shakes his head softly. “Not now, mama. Too stressed over tomorrow. Let’s just go to sleep.” He answers, and you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and falling asleep.

✰

It’s a dark, cold night in the city, no heat in the van as you sit in the back with Chris, pulling your hood up onto your head. You’re parked in the alleyway across from the gas station, hidden from anyone who might be out on the streets.

You bounce your leg in nervousness, feeling the hard metal of the gun in your hoodie pocket. He places a hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. “You can still back out of this you know.” He says and you lace your fingers through his, shaking your head. “I’m fine. You’re not going in there alone. I’m just a little nervous.” You respond.

Tommy sits in the driver’s seat, smoking a cigarette and passes it to you. You take a drag, trying to calm your nerves down.

 “It’s okay, Y/N. 30 minutes, in and out, and we’ll be good, okay? Just remember the plan.” Chris reassures you, giving you a kiss before he pulls his ski mask on. He has a black long sleeve on and black pants, his gun tucked in his waistband.

You tie your bandana on, only your eyes visible, your hair tied back under your hoodie. “Come on.” He says, sliding the door open and helping you out. “Pull up when you see us come out.” He tells Tommy, who nods as Chris shuts the door.

He turns to you, his eyes soft and places his hands on your shoulders. “Last chance, baby. Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m not bailing on you now. Please, let’s get this over with.” You say and he pulls you in, hugging you tightly before you both cross the street quickly.

It’s 1 am, the streetlights glow on the pavement, the open sign of the gas station blinking.

He gives you one last look before he pulls open the door, both of you raising your guns at the man standing at the register.

 There’s a pure look of shock and terror on his face as he raises his hands in the air. Your eyes scan the store, grateful to see nobody else inside. “Don’t make one fucking move!!” Chris screams at him as he moves toward the back door behind the counter.

You stand in front, keeping your gun aimed at his head. The man’s eyes flicker between you and Chris, his hands shake slightly. You feel bad for him but then remember how Chris told you he’s involved in one of their rival gangs and probably has done worse than you.

Chris kicks open the back door, and you watch as he disappears into the room, hearing him shout at one of the men that must be in there. You can’t make out what he says though and focus back on the clerk. You keep your expression blank as he stares at you, his arms still raised.

“Did Michael set me up?” He says and he flinches as you move your gun closer to him.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say, refusing to engage in conversation with him. You assume he must be referring to his boss, and he’s unaware that his operation has actually been busted by the Disciples.

As if he can read your mind, he speaks up again. “I just started this job. Michael hired me to run the register here, I had no idea what was going on in the back. I thought he only owned this place, I didn’t know who he really was.”

You furrow your brows in confusion at his words. Was he saying that he didn’t know his boss was actually a gang leader? You now realize he looks very young, like he could still be in high school.

You shake your head, your gun never wavering from your aim at him. “Stop fucking talking!!” You yell. For all you know, he could just be making this up, trying to mess with your head.

What was taking so long?

Chris was still in the back, and you couldn’t hear anything.

“Please, you gotta listen to me-“The clerk starts again but he’s interrupted by a gun shot popping off in the back, making you flinch and your heart instantly drop.

You panic and Chris suddenly runs out, large duffle bag on his shoulder, while you hear the man in the back scream, “Shoot him!” He sounds in pain and you get a glance of him on the floor, his leg bleeding and it’s obvious now that the gunshot was from Chris.

Before either of you can react, the clerk pulls a gun out from under the counter, aiming it at Chris.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Bam!

The sound of the gunshot rang out, making you lose your ability to hear for the next few seconds as you watched Chris go down, clutching his stomach in pain. Blood started to spill out on his hands, staining his shirt a crimson color. The gas station clerk was as shocked as you were, standing there frozen, gun still pointed.

You don’t know how or why, but you just knew you both wouldn’t get out alive from this if you didn’t do something.

So, you shot back, aiming for his shoulder. It hit him right where you intended as he doubled over immediately, screaming in pain.

You grab Chris who was still on the floor, helping him stand up. “Baby, come on. Please, we have to go now.” You plead. He grabs onto you, able to stand as you lead him out of the store.

He’s moving as fast as he possibly can, one arm around your shoulder, his other hand covering his wound. You see the van pull up on the other side of the street, your heart beating out of your chest.

You’re trying not to panic, looking up and down the street for any signs of police. There was hardly anyone out. Chris almost falls, shouting out in pain. “Fuck!” He yells and you stop him from falling.

You can barely hold him up, but you use all your strength to make it the last few steps to the van.

“I know baby, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there, Chris, just a few more feet. You can do it.” You say, and he’s shaking, still gripping onto you for dear life. You finally make it to the van, the door sliding open, Tommy helping you both in before he quickly shuts it and then hops back into the driver seat, taking off down the street.

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened in there?!” he says, looking at both of you with wide eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. I need to stop him from bleeding out. I’ll tell you later.” You snap, taking off your hoodie and wrapping it around Chris’s torso. You apply pressure, glancing at him.

He’s pale, breathing rapidly and panic in his eyes as he looks at you. You grab his face with your other hand, brushing his hair back. “It’s okay baby. Don’t worry. We’ll get back to the house soon and get you bandaged up, okay?” You reassure him, trying to keep yourself from crying.

He nods his head, grabbing your hand tightly as he winces in pain.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into? The many times you and Chris had gone over the plan, and it still didn’t go accordingly. Now Chris was wounded and the drugs and money you were supposed to retrieve still at the store. You’re not sure how you both are going to get out of this.

You tell Tommy to drop you guys off at Chris’s house instead of the warehouse. Once you get there, he helps you take Chris inside and you tell him to lay low for now, until Chris gives him the next order. He leaves, and you silently pray Jason doesn’t get to him before you guys decide what to do, or worse, get to Chris.

He’s lying on his back on the bed, and you put a pillow under his head, trying to make him comfortable. He winces in pain as you take your hoodie off from around his waist, his hands gripping the sheets harshly. You pull his shirt up. The bleeding is very little now but it’s all over his shirt and stomach, as well as your hands and you get clean, damp towels and bandages for him.

Luckily the bullet only grazed him, you notice as you clean him up, not seeing a deep wound.

You’re almost done putting the gauze and bandage on, making sure it’s tight as he looks at you, and grabs your arm, stroking it softly.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry mama.” He says weakly and you give him a soft smile. “Don’t be sorry. Just be glad we both got out alive. Are you okay?” You say and he nods. You help him pull his shirt off, his wound now clean and bandaged. You give him some water and a left-over Vicodin he had in his stash, hoping that will help with his pain.

You sit next to him on the bed now, running your hands across his chest and shoulders, his eyes closed at the feeling of your soft hands.

“Chris… what do we do now?” You ask, knowing you can’t avoid the inevitable.

He looks at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I never told you this, but I have an older brother who lives in Vermont. I’ve been thinking about going there for a while now… starting over with you.” He responds. “Would you go with me?”

“Baby… I would go anywhere with you.” You say and lean down to press your lips to his.

You kiss him softly, careful not to hurt him. You start to pull away, but he holds your face there, deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He moans at the contact, making you throb in your core, but you pull away, not wanting it to go any further.

“Chris. We can’t, you’re hurt right now.” You say but he shakes his head, pulling you back to him.

“I don’t care, I need you Y/N.” He replies and kisses you again. You give in, allowing him to mesh his tongue with yours again. You suck his bottom lip, nipping it lightly with your teeth and trail your hand down his chest, making sure to avoid the spot where his wound is, feeling his stomach tense under you.

He groans into your mouth as you palm over his crotch, already rock hard and straining through his jeans. “Fuck, mama. Don’t tease me.” He breathes, as you rub your hand back and forth over him, feeling yourself grow wet at the sound of his voice.

If it was any other instance, you would drag it on and make him beg for it like he does with you, but you didn’t want to do that to him right now.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you.” You say softly, unbuttoning his jeans as he lifts his hips, sliding them down his legs and removing his boxers.

His long, thick cock lays against his stomach and you grab it pressing a kiss to the tip and then letting a pool of saliva drip down him, coating him before you take him all the way down your throat, your nose brushing his pelvis. “Fuuuck…” He moans out, his hands holding your hair back from your face, pulling it into a ponytail.

You gag slightly, but quickly adjust to his size, bobbing your head up and down him. Your hands rest on his thighs, and you hum around him as he pulls a little on your hair, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip from the feeling of you taking all of him in your throat.

“Yes, baby, feels so good. You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He groans, making you moan again and he’s gently bucking his hips up, already feeling himself close.

You continue for a few good minutes, pausing only to catch your breath, your hand jerking him up and down before he pulls you up, helping you remove your clothes as he gives you a needy look.

“Come here, please. I wanna cum inside you so bad.” He says and you waste no time, sinking down onto him, the pleasure making you both cry out. You lay on top of him, your hands in his hair and kiss his neck, starting to grind yourself down on him.

“Is this okay baby? You’re not hurting?” You check, making sure not to put too much pressure on his lower stomach.

“Fuck no. Don’t stop.” He replies, grabbing your hips and helping you ride him.

He’s moaning in your ear, and you continue sucking and kissing his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin. You clench around him, your hips rolling, the feeling of his tip kissing your g spot making you soak all over him.

It’s only a few minutes before you’re both panting and sweating, the sounds of your wetness and skin against skin filling the room, driving you both to the highest point of ecstasy.

“Shit- feels so fucking good mama. I wanna fill you up.” Chris says, his fingertips digging into you as he squeezes your waist, feeling his release building.

You moan his name, your head falling to his shoulder, fingers knotting in his hair as you continue to bounce on him. “Cum inside me baby, please.” You whimper, and you feel his hips stutter, rhythm becoming sloppy as he starts to release into you. Your orgasm hits as well and he moans loudly as you feel his cum paint your walls, your legs shaking.

You stay there for a little, Chris holding you as you both catch your breath before climbing off him.

You check his bandage, making sure it’s still on good and then grab one of Chris’s shirts throwing it on while he puts a clean pair of boxers on.

The early morning light is now shining through the bedroom window, and you both kiss lazily, exhausted from the events of the night. He holds you close and you try not to think of what will happen next, focusing on the feeling of his hands in your hair, gently massaging your scalp, while he whispers “I love you.”

a/n: omgggg this was a crazy, long one but i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!!! im almost at 100 followers thank you guys so much. pls leave me more messages i wanna know your thoughts!!🩷

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[lyraeon]

at 20 I thought I was faking my depression and was "bad at life" and lazy like my family said. I still earnestly believed I was entirely straight and everyone knew girls are just nicer to look at. I still had a ton of ingrained racism and other bigotry from my Bush-worshipping family. My main dream of being an astronaut had been smashed by my anxiety and health problems, so I was trying to study Japanese because like every other weeb I thought I'd fit in better over there (lol), but I'd already flunked out of one college and been forced to quit another to get a second job. I was overdrawn constantly and often buying gas station gift cards at the grocery store so I'd only take one overdraft fee. I was dating someone horribly controlling who eventually earned the title "evil ex", dialed up my eating disorder, and traumatized me out of writing for 2+ years. I had several roommates because we all considered having the funds to go to anime conventions more important than personal space (and because back then we already thought $600/month was expensive). I spent any other free time half asleep at a friend's house cuz there I could play games and watch Intent videos. Half my meals came free from work, the rest were hacked together from stuff that worked out to $1/serving or so. The power or internet got turned off at least twice a year from non-payment.

at 25 I thought I was too depressed to deserve burdening others with my presence or existence. that I was a burden and purposeful downer and nothing would ever get better. I was still dealing with a ton of internalized transphobia, racism, and other bigotry that I had been taught was Just The Truth and still occasionally fall into. I was massively straight edge against weed and anything else (threatened to call cops on close friends) while also being a half bottle of vodka a day alcoholic just to get my brain to shut up enough to let me write or sleep. I didn't know how to have fun without alcohol, if at all. I had lost my ability to draw when I severely injured my wrist while i had no insurance. I tried going back to school, first for architecture then teaching, and flunked/dropped out of both. I was losing jobs every 6~8 months from being chronically late and being sick constantly. I manged to lose one on my birthday and wound up having to make some other tough choices because of it. I had only just reached the point where being overdrawn was a rare thing and I wasn't buying single gallons of gas with tip money. food was still often just ramen but I no longer had days where I didn't know if I'd get to eat, though I was often dependent on my then-bf. I had multiple teeth rotting and couldn't afford any treatment besides getting them pulled, and often not until they'd become infected.

by 30 I was finally on antidepressants and in therapy. I was on the road to physical therapy for shoulder and wrist injuries that had happened years earlier. I was pretty happy in my relationship. I held down one job for almost 3 years straight after getting medicated, then turned around and flunked/dropped out of college for the 5th time (Physics this time) because I was too anxious to take public transit reliably and STILL couldn't do homework anywhere but in class, so most projects never got done. I'd stopped being able to write (and am still running from the possibility my meds Took That from me because it doesn't come back if I stop them). Food had become a different struggle - I no longer had time, physical health, or executive function to cook reliably so I was spending too much on take out and causing wild fluctuations in my weight. I was hiding my eating disorder from my partner and my friends. I had begrudgingly un-estranged myself from my family to support younger cousins as they came out as queer. I had developed a healthier relationship with alcohol. I had accepted that, outside of addiction, drugs are a bodily autonomy thing and stopped being an ass to people about them. I had finally learned some damn etiquette around things like not accidentally outing people. I started streaming and making videos - stuff I had dreamed of since first watching Dead Fantasy and Red vs Blue and Weeblstuff in high school but had thought impossible after I lost the ability to draw.

I'm currently 35. This year I am living on my own for the first time (aside from 5 failed months at 18). I got divorced - a complicated, regretful process that was ultimately for the best but I could and should have handled better (and sooner). I've been in physical therapy long enough that I'm able to use chopsticks properly again and am thinking of trying to relearn drawing. It's also meant I can do the dishes and wash my hair on my own again, most days, so I'm relearning how to cook consistently. I'm reading (listening to) books again. I'm on year 8 of antidepressants and currently working with my doctor to fine tune what I'm on (and finally have a system to take them consistently). I've been diagnosed with ADHD and figured out I might also be autistic, and a lot of things in my life make way more sense when viewed through that context. I have appointments to get evaluated for ADHD meds, autism, shoulder surgery/other "PT isn't enough" treatments, teeth implants, and new glasses. my clothes have been put away 3 of the last 5 times I did laundry and I've learned that if I only own one dishwasher worth of dishes, the sink can't pile up. I've fully embraced that I'm polyamorous, pansexual, and demiromantic, and that I can be cis while also being "gender agnostic" - none of it really matters or processes to me, but I get that it does to others so I respect it. I'm seeing someone who makes me feel like I can do anything, is inspiringly ambitious themself, and is equally polyam, meaning I might also be asking out a cute girl soon and don't know where board game nights with the nice throuple I met might go. I'm having to do odd jobs and accept help from my dad to make ends meet, but I'm arguably a full time content creator now - something I literally didn't even let myself dream about when I was younger because it felt impossible, but which is fully worth the complications and budget crunching because it's so accommodating to my disabilities and uses so many of my talents. I'm still depressed, but I have hope that ADHD treatment will help cut through the remainder. Most days I just have hope, period. And more days than not, I'm genuinely happy for at least a while.

You'll find yourself.

It might take a while. There will be detours, mistakes, pain, tough choices, and a lot of hard work. But there will also be unexpected joys and more possibilities than you ever imagined.

Someday, you'll find yourself.

And when you do, it will be worth the wait, I promise.

[connor-is-ok]

“The Hunchback” by Connor S. O’Keefe

For more info on the content warnings, check my wattpad.

Content warnings: Fear, Language, Mental Health, Violence, Blood, References to Alcohol Abuse

—————————————————————————

I went into the gas station to get a pack of cigarettes, and I was nearly frozen from the short walk inside. For the middle of autumn in Mississippi it was surprisingly cold. At least I think it was. I had just moved here and didn’t really have anything to compare it to. The cashier definitely could tell something was wrong because he told me they were on the house. Guess he was the owner or something, that or he was about to get fired. I appreciated it though, since I realized I had forgotten my wallet after I asked him the price. As I was leaving he told me he hoped my day got better. I stopped, glanced over my shoulder, and after a beat I popped a cigarette in my mouth and told him I doubted it would. I walked outside and lit it. I took a puff and almost hacked up a lung. Guess I should have seen that coming since I had never smoked before. I zipped up my ragged bomber jacket and hurried over to my car. I quickly unlocked the doors and hopped in. Put my key into the ignition and…. Nothing. Not even a croak.

“Damn it.” I muttered under my breath. The last thing I needed today was my car going dead. This didn’t surprise me though. Couldn’t expect much more from a 2002 bucket of Toyota bolts. I wish I could’ve bought something better but this thing was all I could afford at the time. I had spent most of my money moving to Jackson two and a half months ago. I might have been able to afford some upgrades by now but after losing my job I hadn’t been able to find another. It was a small construction job. Ten bucks an hour which was decent. The construction company usually hired people in rehab so they didn’t really care that I had no resume. But a couple weeks in, after most of the employees failed a surprise drug test, the owner decided to fire everyone and rebuild his roster from the ground up, or some bullshit like that. Even though I passed and have been sober for almost three years, I guess they didn’t want to take the chance with me. I haven’t even touched drugs before, except for some experiments with weed in college. You would think having a college degree would really help my chances of getting a job but I guess having a criminal record, no matter how small, can really screw you over.

I prayed to whatever being is out there and turned the key again and the Corolla desperately tried to start. After ten seconds of holding the key in place, I was about to slam my fist on the dash when the stupid hunk of junk actually turned over. “Finally.” I pulled out of the parking lot, flicked the cigarette out of the window, and drove home. Well, I say home. It was a shitty motel but it worked. Since I had been there a month and a half before I lost my job they were only charging me $20 a month until I could pay them in full but with that kind of deal you can guess how bad it was. It's just a small local place and the owner is the sole morning receptionist who's just looking for some amount of business. At the time I was her only customer. I still had to kill at least four bugs a day though.

I say I’ve been sober but recently I hadn’t been so sure. The hallucinations had started again. That’s what the doctor said they were. Hallucinations from psychosis due to alcohol abuse. And I hoped he was right, because there’s no way evolution, or god, or whatever being is up there would ever let a nine and a half foot tall thing like that exist. That’s why I got clean. I went to rehab, and the hallucinations hadn’t been back since. That is, until two days ago. I woke up around 3:30 AM two nights ago to a tapping on my window. I blinked a few times and it was gone. Then, last night around 8:30 the tapping started again. I looked out the window, and to my horror, the giant was back. It smiled and waved at me. I screamed and rushed to the window, shutting the curtains. I climbed in bed and curled up under the covers. All night that thing was tapping and scratching at my window. Around 5 AM it finally stopped but I still couldn’t move. Then, when I thought myself brave enough to take a look, it was gone. That’s why I, a brown-haired, green eyed, 26-year-old unemployed vagrant, am buying my first ever pack of cigarettes at 6:30 AM on a Saturday morning.

I got back to the motel around 6:45. I walked in, put the pack of Camels on the counter by the door and walked over to the window. I still hadn’t opened the curtains up again. To be honest I was terrified too. I hadn’t slept at all last night and the fear was stiffening even still. I slowly grasped one of the curtains and pulled it open with the slowest movements I’ve ever had. And the window was perfectly fine. No scratches or dents anywhere.

“What the hell?” I mumbled to myself. “I could have sworn…… maybe it was just a nightmare and I actually did get some sleep.” I wasn’t really tired so the thought process made sense. All of the sudden a small pinging noise came to my attention. It was the motel’s answering machine. I forgot the room even had one of those. I had to use that as my phone number because I couldn’t afford a cell phone at this point. I walked over and clicked the play button. A deep southern drawl came out of the other end. He wanted to meet me at 9 for a….. a job interview? Is he serious? He didn’t say where to meet in the store, he just said he wanted to meet at Shores Grocery Stores. Luckily I knew where that was because it was actually across the street from that gas station where I bought the cigarettes from. I quickly called him back and said I would meet him there.

Nine o clock came by much faster than I expected it to. I got to the store five minutes before the agreed upon time. I had gotten a shower and dressed in my nicest clothes at the time, sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that didn’t show stains. I walked in and asked a cashier where the main office was and he directed me to the back right corner of the store where a little alcove was. I knocked on the door and heard “C’mon in.” from the other side. I opened the door and walked inside. “Can I help you?” Asked a man who looked like he was about to go to a rodeo. He was a six-foot-three, blonde haired, blue eyed, 56 year old Caucasian man, wearing a blue flannel shirt, cowboy boots, a white cowboy hat, and dark blue Wrangler jeans.

“Um… y-yeah, I-I’m here for a job interview.” I stammered.

“Ah, yeah, you’re in the righ’ place. Have a seat.” This guy's southern accent was something else. I could barely understand half of what he was saying. He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Terry Shores. I own this here establishment.”

I shook his hand and sat in the seat across from him. “Hi, I’m Jordan. Jordan Belmont.”

“Ah, Jordan. Like the country from the Bible Lands.”

“The What Lands?”

He looked at me as if he was second guessing his decision. I wouldn’t blame him if he was. One look at me and I would have kicked myself to the curb, not even a word shared.

“I’m actually named after my grandfather. Richard Jordan Manhoff.”

“Well ain’t that something. Do yah have any religious beliefs, son?”

“Well…. Kind of.”

“How kind of?”

“Well, I’m agnostic.”

“Agnostic?” He asked. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to figure out what it meant or if he was trying to not laugh.

“It means that I-“

“I know wha’ it means. You’re agnostic an’ yah decided to move to the Bible Belt?”

“What’s the Bible Belt?”

“Oh bless your heart.” He said, shaking his head and smiling. Being from California, I of course had no idea what he meant by that so when I responded with “Um….. thank you?” Terry threw his head back and laughed the biggest belly laugh I have ever heard. After about twenty seconds of laughing he wiped his eyes, looked at me, and said “Alright, let’s get this interview started, why don’t we? I see yah got a Bachelor’s in Business Management?”

“Yes sir, I do.” I said, knowing exactly where this interview was going.

“Wonderful, but I also see that yah have a criminal record, is tha’ right?”

“Uh, yes sir… I do” I said, my heart sinking with a feeling that this interview was about to come to an abrupt end.

“Tell me about that. How’d yah get it? What’d yah do?” Terry’s long southern drawl made it feel like the words were stretched out, making them hurt even more as I knew once I told him what happened, he would almost definitely ask me to leave.

“Well…. It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Well go right on ahead. I got pretty much nothing else to do today. After this all I do is just watch sec’rity cameras.”

“I um…. I burned down my house…”

“Now why in God’s green earth would you burn your own house down?”

“Well… it wasn’t my house per se. It was my landlord's house that I was renting.”

Terry nodded. “Righ’. And?”

“Well…. To shorten it up a bit, I had an alcohol problem, and according to the doctor it was so bad that it made me hallucinate this demonic creature thing, and I thought it was chasing me. I got so paranoid that one time I poured gasoline all over my house and prepared for it to come back. When it did, I ran out of the house, and threw a match into a puddle I had made, burning the whole place down in an attempt to kill the thing. When my landlord found out, he pressed charges. The judge gave me two options. 2 years in prison with a year of probation, or mandatory rehab with at least 2 years of supervised AA meetings, where there would be a cop to check in on me every week, which would also count as 2 years probation.”

“You still go to AA?”

“Yes sir… well, when my car will let me, if it works.”

Terry laughed, “Yeah, I’ve been having similar issues like that the last couple days. My truck darn near di’nt turn on this mornin’. Almost thought I would have to call and cancel with yah. Are yah still sober?”

“Yes sir. Almost three years now.”

“Well, here’s the thing. If yah don’t burn down any more houses, yah stay sober, and yah go to AA at least twice a month for the next 4 months, I’ll give yah the job immediately.”

I nearly got whiplash from his words by how much I did a double take. “Wait, what?”

“I need someone to manage my store and you seem to be the most suitable candidate I’ve seen these past two weeks. It only pays nineteen an hour, no Walmart or nothing, but we could renegotiate after a while if yah prove yourself reliable.”

“Are you serious?” I asked incredulously. No way this guy was about to hire me, a convicted arsonist, to manage an entire grocery store.

“Course I am.” He said solemnly. “I’m intending to open a ranch with my wife where kids can come and learn about horses. I love learning kids to ride.”

“Teaching kids.” I said and immediately regretted every syllable. I REALLY needed this job. And now I just blew it.

“What’d you say?” He glared at me.

“I’m sorry. Old habit. I was an English minor and I tutored middle schoolers during college. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me.” I begged him, desperately attempting to save myself.

Terry smiled a big, tobacco stained toothy smile. “I’m just messing with yah. My wife Meera has been trying to get me to have better grammar for months. She’ll appreciate having someone at the store to do that too. So what'd yah say? Can yah start tomorrow?”

“Um… yeah!” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. This was by far the best thing that had happened to me in a good 5 years since I had graduated college. “As long as my car doesn’t run out of gas by then. I can’t really afford gas until Monday.”

“Tell yah what,” Terry said leaning forward. “There’s a gas station across the street. I’ll pay for a full tank and I can just take a bit from your first few paychecks until it’s paid back. How’s tha’ sound?”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to do that.” I said feeling guilty at the amount of generosity he had already shown by even offering me the job.

“O’ course. Like I said. I really need someone to fill this position.”

When we got outside Terry asked me which car was mine. In the thirty minutes we were in his office the parking lot had practically filled up. I pointed out my car and Terry exclaimed “GOOD GOD SON! That’s your vehicle? Are yah sure I shouldn’t just buy yah a new car instead of a tank of gas?” We both laughed and I drove him over to the gas station. Afterwards I thanked him profusely and agreed that I would be back tomorrow morning at 8AM sharp. He told me to hang on a second, walked back inside, and returned a few seconds later with a new pair of jeans. He tossed them to me and said “I’ll take these off your first few checks as well. You’ll need them. No sweatpants in the dress code.” I looked at them. 31/30. I looked up.

“How did you know what pant size I wear?”

Terry chuckled and turned around to walk inside. “I have an awfully good eye for knowing those things about people. See you at eight, Jordan.” And with that he walked inside, and I had a job. I was so excited I could scream. But I didn’t because I didn’t want to look insane…… again.

That night, after I did laundry, I laid out a Ramones t-shirt, and the pair of jeans Terry had given me. I had to go to another store to buy a belt because I felt too embarrassed to walk into the Shores Grocery Stores to buy one. I honestly wasn’t even sure if they would have one to begin with. I bought a cheap braided leather belt and a couple microwave dinners, and now I was broke until Monday when my last check from the construction job could go through. I had waited to cash it until I absolutely needed to. As I left the parking lot, though, I could have sworn that I saw it again. That thing. Whatever it is. And I knew I was completely sober. Back at the motel, I nuked a Hungry Man microwave dinner and closed the curtains again. I was so exhausted from the night before but I had a bad feeling that the thing would come back again tonight. I had bought some melatonin at the store as well, so after everything was prepared for Sunday and I had eaten dinner, I popped five into my mouth, swallowed them down with a can of Sprite I had gotten at the motel vending machine, and passed out within three minutes. The next time I woke up was 6 hours later, 5AM, except this time there was no tapping, there was no scratching. I honestly believe I just woke up because my body was ready to be awake. I wasn’t even tired anymore. I climbed out of bed, got a shower, put on the jeans but decided to put a Clash t-shirt on instead of the Ramones one because it was less wrinkled. It wasn’t anywhere near time for me to go to work so I grabbed the cigarettes, climbed onto my bed and flipped on the tv. The Boomerang channel came on playing the Flintstones, which I'm not really a fan of, but I didn't feel like switching the channel so it stayed. I popped a Camel into my mouth and lit it with a cheap Scripto lighter I had gotten for a dollar a couple weeks back. I took a slow deep drag from it and exhaled, a much smoother attempt than last night. Then, I saw it. I call it the Hunchback. It’s human-like, but it has brownish-gray skin, with giant, black soulless eyes. Small palms with extremely long fingers and short, sharp nails. It’s completely hairless, with long arms that drag on the ground. Sharp pointed, shark-like teeth, with a tongue that it constantly uses to lick its non-existent lips whenever it watches me. When it walks it always has bent knees and it leans over like an old person using a walker. It has long feet, I would guess a foot and a half each. And it’s growled at me before. It sounded distorted, kind of like the Jurassic Park T-Rex. But now, it was sitting on my TV. I don’t mean on top of my TV. I mean INSIDE. On the show. It was sitting next to Fred Flintstone’s recliner, where Dino was supposed to be. And he was staring at me… licking his would-be lips. I screamed and threw the lighter at the tv. I missed and it smashed against the wall.

“Shit!” I cried as I had simultaneously broken my only lighter and made a huge mess on the wall. I grabbed for the TV remote, but it was gone. Nowhere to be found. I had set in on the nightstand, but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t on the floor or anything. It had just disappeared. I rushed over to the TV set and as I did I saw the Hunchback approaching the screen as well. It sounded like it was moaning. A long, drawn out howl type of sound. I pressed the power button and nothing happened. I tried changing the channel. Nothing. The Hunchback was starting to move faster. Finally I reached for the power cord in the wall behind the TV. As I pulled it out I saw the Hunchback attempt to leap out of the TV but I had pulled the cord out of the wall just in time. And as the TV screen faded, I got a chance to stare my attacker in the face. Which immediately made me feel nauseous. I took a seat on the bed to catch my breath. My heart was racing. Am I going crazy? I thought. I haven’t had a drink in years but it’s back again. There’s no way this is a hallucination this time. It can’t be. I decided to put it out of my mind and went to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper to wipe the lighter fluid off the wall. Suddenly I smelled something burning and remembered I had set the cigarette on the nightstand. I quickly ran over and put it in the ashtray. Thank god that I wasn’t in a non-smoking room. I finished cleaning up the lighter fluid and hoped that it wouldn’t stain and the motel staff wouldn’t be too pissed at me for any potential smell. I looked at the clock, 6:35. The motel had a small breakfast bar. Just toast and cereal. It’s not technically a breakfast bar, just food for the overnight staff, but I’d become friends with the receptionist, a short, stocky black guy named Russell. He sometimes lets me in the back for some food in the early mornings.

I was able to grab a match book from Russell while eating breakfast with him. A bowl of Frosted Flakes and two pieces of cream cheese toast. I went back to my room to grab the pack of Camels before I hopped in my Corolla and drove to work. It was only a five minute drive so I actually got there twenty minutes early. I expected more people to be there but there were only two other cars and Terry’s dark blue Chevy Silverado. So I went back to Terry's office, and talked with him for a bit. I mainly wanted to ask him one question; why is it called Shores Grocery Stores instead of Shores Grocery Store. It turns out that Terry called it that because when he opened the store seven years ago he was intending to have multiple stores by their tenth year. I also asked him why they had a clothing section if they were a grocery store, and where it was. Terry’s response was they had installed a full clothing section two years ago to try and expand the store Walmart style but it hadn’t gone over well, but Terry decided to keep a small one just in case the clothing section started being in demand. The clothing section was in the back left corner, opposite Terry’s office, so I took a bit of time to see what they had, and it was exactly what I expected. Flannel shirts, Wrangler jeans, and three cowboy hats. A very Terry clothing section. As I headed to the back to clock in for the first time I learned that the two other cars in the parking lot belong to the two main openers, one cashier, and a stock boy, with another stock boy to arrive in about thirty minutes. Terry had to leave after showing me where the time clock was so he could attend church service at eight thirty, but he said he would be back at one. I had to ask the other cashier how to log into a register because, as the manager, I was allowed to do whichever thing I wanted; either be a cashier, help stock, or watch the security cameras, which Terry described as ‘The most boring task I have ever done in my life’ so I decided I’ll do what I can to avoid doing that. The day went by pretty smoothly, although I had to stop a lady at the doors because Tabitha, the cashier, thought the lady might have grabbed a couple candy bars when she turned around to break a hundred. She actually had and willingly gave them back. I had to go to the office to write up a report on the attempted theft, something I have to do with every injury, shoplift, etc. after that I had two hours left on my shift so I just hung out in the office with Terry for most of it because at that point the second cashier had arrived which was able to hold the flow of customers pretty well. Right before I was supposed to go to lunch, though, one of the stock boys, a seventeen year old stoner kid named Tyler, dropped a bottle of bleach on the floor, which was fun because I had to make sure nothing went in his eyes or his mouth, help them clean the mess up, and, of course, write another incident report. I went to lunch thirty minutes late. There was a twenty minute period at three where I had to go out and help in the third of four checkout lanes but that was the last major event of my work day.

That night went much more smoothly. I went to the library to create a free library membership and check out a couple books. I wasn’t about to risk turning on my TV again. I checked out three books. One, about store management so I could freshen up a bit since I had been out of college for a while. Pet Sematary by Stephen King, one of my all time favorite books, and a short book called Dead Connection by some guy named Vincent V Cava. I had never heard of him but the cover looked interesting so I thought I would give it a try. For the span of recent events, horror books seemed very fitting. Maybe it would help me mentally prepare for the potential coming onslaught of hauntings. But the Hunchback didn’t come back. Not that night, or the next morning. Monday resulted in no special events either, Tyler didn’t spill anything although he nearly dropped a big box full of egg cartons. After work Terry and Meera invited me over to their house for dinner. I found myself beginning to feel safe and settled, seemingly finding my place in the world. I went back to my motel room that night and fell asleep easily; no melatonin, no Hunchback, and of course, no tv.

I woke up ready to celebrate the one year anniversary of the last time I saw the Hunchback. It had been a pretty good year for me. I was steadily making nine hundred dollars a week as the manager of Shores Grocery Stores, I had finished paying off my debt to the motel a few months ago. I had also gotten my own small apartment with the help of Terry, and my life finally seemed to be going up for once. I went over to my desk that I never actually used as a desk, instead using it as a prop for a medium-ish fish tank and fed the few fish I kept in the tank. “Morning boys.” I said as if they could hear and understand me. I grabbed a shower, threw on an old Black Flag t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and made my way down to my car, which was now a 2008 Honda Civic, thank you Terry for co-signing so I could actually afford it, and hopped in, on my way out to enjoy my day off. The sun was bright, and it was significantly warmer than last autumn. I threw on the knock-off RayBans I had gotten at a Dollar General, put the car in reverse, and headed out to the library. I had a couple books I had to return that were about to go late. The only other real plan for today was to meet up at a bar with a couple friends later that night to celebrate today. No, I wasn’t trying to relapse, as far as they were aware I was actually celebrating sobriety, but they didn’t question why I chose that spot. It was called Lucky’s and was my favorite place to eat. Terry didn’t drink and he introduced me to it. According to him, Lucky’s has the best food in Jackson, apart from his wife. And honestly, I have to agree. When Terry first took me there I ordered a burger, expecting it to be mediocre at best. In a word, mouthwatering. Apparently they have some sort of agreement with a local cattle rancher, and they get super fresh meat, so every burger they make is super flavorful and juicy. I used to date a girl while in college and she had convinced me to try veganism, it wasn’t bad but I am so glad that we didn’t work out. The signature “Lucky Burger” is something everyone needs to try at least once in their life.

The celebration was great. The guys told me to take a few shots, I aggressively refused; at one point I was willing to leave when they told me it was just water in a shot glass, not vodka, which was relieving and I happily took it from them after a good laugh. I still kind of wanted to punch a guy named Tavon, who I had met at the library, because it was his idea, but it was a good joke. It was a great night otherwise. We toasted shot glasses of Coca-Cola to my sobriety, after which Ethan, the opening stock boy who had just turned twenty-one, said that next time we come here I’m going to be his sober ride home. I laughed and told him to shut up as he downed his shot of Coke. Overall I made a few memories and had fun with my friends. I began to feel as if the Hunchback would never come back. And just as I began to feel that way, it did. In full force.

After the celebration dinner, I walked into my apartment to find one of my windows broken. I wasn’t too worried about it though, probably just some of the apartment complex kids trying to seem cool to their friends. The next day, however, it got more aggressive. When I came home from work I found all three of my fish out of their tank, on the floor, dead. I wouldn’t say I was distraught by it but I was very upset. These guys had kept me company for the last seven months. Before I let myself start watching tv again there were times when I would get bored and I would just sit at my desk and watch these guys swim around their tank, feeling jealous that they had nothing to worry about or be afraid of. Later that day I called Terry and Ethan and we held a small funeral for my fish. Even Ethan got up and said something, which surprised me because he’s not much of an animal person, but he apparently thought my fish were cool. I later learned that the reason he thought my fish were cool was because sometimes when he would come over, he would smack their tank and watch them scurry. The next few days were marred by nightmares of the Hunchback. And they were extremely vivid. Many of them were of it chasing me down darkened and dimly lit hallways. But there were a few of them where it would actually catch me, it would pin me on the ground and start eating me alive. It would start at my legs and chew all of the flesh off, then it would go to my arms and then chew all of the flesh from my chest, somehow I would still be alive, and the pain was excruciating. Finally it would bite my head off and I would wake up in a bed that was soaked in sweat. These dreams were constant. At one point I had enough and didn’t let myself sleep for three days straight. When I got to work on the third day Terry looked at me and called me over.

“Are you sick, Jordan?”

“No, I feel fine.” I lied. I hate lying to Terry but I didn’t want him to think I had relapsed in some way.

“Well you look like you haven’t slept for days.” He didn’t say this as an exaggeration or some sort of guess. Over the past year Terry and I had gotten to know each other very well, so he definitely knew I hadn’t slept. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I don’t like telling Terry no so I simply said “Maybe.”

“Let’s talk about it.” He said, and before he gave me a chance to reply he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his office. He sat me down in the same chair I had my interview in and looked me up and down. “What’s wrong?”

I sighed and began telling him everything, the appearances of the Hunchback last year, the nightmares, my window and the mystery of my fishes’ deaths. Terry sat back in his chair thinking for a couple minutes.

“So….?” I said after some time.

“Well, my guess is that, since it’s been a year since you last saw this Hunchback creature of yours, your subconscious is probably scared of it coming back again, and is manifesting that fear in your nightmares.” These were some of the biggest words I had ever heard Terry say over the past year I had known him, so it took me a bit to process what he had said. But he was right. It was the only rational explanation for all of this. “Now, I don’t know if I can be much help here, I’m no psychologist or anything. But what I can say is that when you get home tonight, get some sleep. You need it. Now get on out there, we need someone at register two.”

I got home that night after working a late shift, and decided to watch some TV during dinner, but I couldn’t find the remote. I figured it was probably under the couch and I didn’t feel like getting on the floor to retrieve it, so I just ate a quiet dinner and went to bed. That night, I had the worst night yet. It wasn’t a nightmare but when I woke up, there were three giant claw marks in my shirt, and through all of my bed sheets, both above and underneath me. I screamed at the top of my lungs as I ripped my shirt off. “What the fuck?” I cried to no one. I immediately called Terry, and he showed up a few minutes later. I showed him my shirt and the bed, hoping he could have some sort of advice or suggestion. The first thing he did was look at me out of the corner of his eye, and slowly say with a smirk “Did yah have a lady friend over last night?”

I glared at him and through gritted teeth said “Not the time, Terry,”

He chuckled and looked back at the bed. He took the shirt out of my hands and examined it for a few seconds. “So yah say this was the Hunchback again?”

“I mean, it has to be. There was no way this was some sort of animal. There was nothing else wrong with my apartment.”

“Has this thing ever made physical contact with yah? Has it ever touched yah?”

I had to think about this for a second but I was able to remember one incident. “Yeah… once. One night I woke up in the middle of the night in a sleep paralysis state. I saw the Hunchback in the corner of my room watching me. When it saw me wake up it slowly walked over to me, it caressed the side of my face and smiled while licking its lips. After that, it just walked away, out of my room, and closed the door. The next thing I remember, it was the morning, and I felt like I hadn’t slept at all.”

“I have an idea.” Terry said, and with that, he walked out of my apartment, got in his truck, and left. He was back within ten minutes and when he came back inside and asked me, “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“Uh… yeah.” A half lie. When I was little, for a couple years, my dad decided to put me in Cub Scouts, I wasn’t very good at it. One year, at summer day camp, they decided to let the younger kids try the BB guns. Easy enough to say, I sucked at it, bad. I never once was able to hit the target. I did, somehow, manage to shoot my scout master in the right butt cheek. Safe to say they didn’t let me touch the guns after that, probably a good idea for an eight year old. Terry handed me a Sig Sauer P220, it was all black with a beautiful wooden grip.

“If that thing comes back again, shoot it in the face, after that everything should be fine, except for a potential hole in your ceiling.”

“I guess I’ll try my best but I'm a terrible shot.”

“How… how do yah miss from point blank range?” Terry asked in befuddlement.

I shrugged. “Guess I’m just full of surprises, Boss.”

That night I couldn’t sleep at all, not for a lack of trying. It was either the awkwardness of having a gun under my pillow, or the fear of what happened the night before. I just layed on my bed, watching the ceiling fan slowly spin, too scared to look around and see if it had come back again. If it did, the Hunchback made no attempts to make any more physical contact. When the sun started to come up I decided to get up and make a pot of coffee. I looked at one of the security cameras I had set up the night before, hoping I hadn’t spent two hundred bucks for nothing. Suddenly, a loud, ear piercing screech erupted in my kitchen, I covered my ears and crumpled to the floor. The glass cup on my kitchen counter shattered. Like an opera singer singing a high C to a wine glass. The oven door glass flew over me and I got cut a lot. The lightbulb fell out of the ceiling, and shattered on the ground. My blender fell off the counter and also shattered on the ground on my other side. Then my watch shattered, slicing open the top of my wrist. Suddenly my cabinet slammed open, as if flung by an invisible hand, glass came flowing out of it from my now shattered cups and plates, sending a new layer of sharp shards all over myself and the floor. The coffee pot went next, spilling boiling coffee all over the place. I didn’t get hit by much of it but what did get me still hurt like a bitch. And then it ended. The sound was gone as quickly as it came. I was bleeding all over, I was barefoot and I was surrounded by hundreds of tiny shards of glass. I didn’t want to move to not risk cutting my feet on the glass, but I quickly decided that my arms were already cut enough so I proceeded to sweep the glass out of the way with my forearms and slowly crawl my way over to the back left corner of my kitchen, meanwhile getting blood all over the vinyl floor. I checked the security camera. The lens was cracked but it was still recording. Which meant it had recorded everything, with sound thanks to a small microphone hole in the top right hand corner. I took the camera down and removed the micro SD card. I put it in the zipper pocket of my cargo shorts, and crawled out of my kitchen, getting more blood on the floor. I stood up when I made my way to my living room. “That’s gonna suck to clean up.” I muttered to myself. I got a shower to clean off the blood, wrapped my left wrist in a bandage where my watch had sliced it open, put on a new change of clothes, took the old ones to the dumpster, and drove to Terry’s house to show him the footage.

“Well I’ll be damned…” was Terry’s response. “What happened?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Oh right, the Hunchback. I guess you’re not crazy after all.”

“Wow. Thanks.” I said with fake enthusiasm. I was just relieved I finally had some proof of that fact, even if I felt like I could only show it to Terry.

“I didn’t think it was anything supernatural, I thought yah were just trying to play some kind of joke on me.” I stared at Terry in disbelief.

“Do you really think I would ruin my favorite Black Flag shirt and my bed sheets just to mess with you?”

“Well… I mean yah did call me and tell me the store was robbed.”

“Oh shit.” I had done that. It was a slow night about four months ago. I had just let myself start watching TV again and I had watched Pulp Fiction on AxsTV, which gave me the idea to pull a prank on Terry. I had counted the cash from the registers, and told the closing cashier Tracee to hide the money in the corner behind the drink cooler. After which I called Terry and said the store had been held up at gunpoint and the thief had gotten away with nine grand. Terry was at the store in five minutes, which means he definitely sped and went through some red lights, since his house is ten minutes away from my apartment, which is four minutes away from the store. Tracee and I were literally on the floor laughing. I am surprised neither of us got fired that night. But I digress. I looked at Terry and asked “Got any ideas?”

“How can I? Up until a minute ago I didn’t believe that something like this could exist. The only thing I have are some guns and a hunting’ knife and I’m not sure if they would be effective.”

“Probably more effective than sitting on our hands. We have to try something. I mean, I don’t know how long I can take stuff like today, I’ll probably die if it keeps going this way.”

“Do you have any idea why it’s targeting you?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want it, not any more. We need to somehow get this thing to leave me alone, or kill it, or something.”

“I do have one idea but it will take a lot of prep time.”

“Ok, what's that?” I asked, hopeful.

“Yah like camping?”

A week later, Terry and I were trekking through the woods behind his house looking for a spot to have a camp out with an indefinite ending. The plan was for Terry to teach me how to shoot a gun, and that we would be camping outside until the Hunchback tried to come after me, then we would shoot and kill it. Simple plan? Not so much, like I said. I’m a terrible shot. Terry didn’t realize just how bad I was until the first time he tried to give me a lesson. He stood me two feet in front of a tree, I raised the gun, fired, and missed. “Oh dear Lord in heaven.” I hear Terry mumble over my shoulder. It took two weeks for Terry to finally get me hitting the tree somewhat consistently. About one third or so of the time I would hit the tree. We wasted hundreds of rounds on that damn tree but Terry had an arsenal, given that he basically lived in the countryside. He had three rifles, two shot guns, and five pistols. Way too much for both of us to use, so I just kept the Sig Sauer and Terry’s hunting knife. I left everything else to Terry. We camped out about an acre from Terry’s house for about a month. We slowly began to lose hope that we would see the Hunchback again when out of nowhere the nightmares started again. And they were bad. I mean three letter organization torture bad. There were dreams where the Hunchback would gouge my eyes out and rip out my tongue. Others where it would rip off all my toenails and fingernails one by one and then pull out my each of teeth. Some were of the Hunchback using its nails to saw through the skin at the base of my fingers, all the way down to the bone and then rip them the rest of the way off. In a few the Hunchback pinned me to the ground face down, grabbed my hair, and ripped the skin from my head with its claw, nail things. It was scalping me alive, leaving blood to ooze into my eyes, leaving me practically blind for the rest of the dream. Others were so bad I don’t even want to think about them ever again. And they all felt real. I felt all of the pain and every single time I would pray that I would just pass out from the pain but I never did. It got bad enough that pain began to linger even hours after waking up. One day I tried to pick up the P220 and my fingers didn’t move for a second. When I finally managed to wrap my fingers around the handle I immediately screamed in pain as all of the nerve endings went into a split second of shockwave pain, almost like they were being reminded that they were once each cut off and tortured away from my hand on many occasions. Terry ran out of the tent thinking I was being attacked by an animal, despite at this point some of them should begin hibernating. I had crumpled to my knees. I noticed my hand was numb, then slowly went back to that tingly feeling you get when you’ve slept on it weirdly, and then it was back to normal. I slowly became aware that my hair was matted to my face with sweat, I looked like I had been in a rainstorm. As I stood up I flung my head backwards and slicked my shoulder length hair back like I normally had it. Suddenly there was a brief rustling in the trees around our campsite. I wasn’t sure but I was fairly certain I saw the Hunchback. Pistol in my right hand, I grabbed the knife with my left hand, put it in the sheath on my belt, and ran after the shape in the darkness. I ran for several minutes following it through left and right turns. Suddenly the shape rounded a thick tree. I tried to follow but it had disappeared. I gripped the gun with my both hands, sneaking around like a cop in a dangerous house that hasn’t been cleared yet. I slunk around snapping the gun in each direction, tree to tree, trying to find it. On a gut feeling, I looked up, and saw it perched on a tree branch, like a bird. I swiped my hands up and fired at hit. I missed five shots in a row but I knew I was close to getting it.

I was tired and sore, which led to me not feeling like chasing it. I wasn’t sure how far out I was from camp and I didn’t want to get any more lost. I just stood there, watching it jump from limb to limb, further and further away. Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder. I whipped the pistol around to find the barrel of the gun pointed directly in the face of Terry.

“Terry!” I said, breathless. My heart was racing and I was still pointing the gun at him.

Terry slowly used the back of his hand to move the gun away from his nose. “What in heaven did you run off like that for?”

I stared at the ground. “I saw it. I fuckin’ saw it. It was there and I had it but I fuckin’ missed. I fucking missed it, man.” I was practically screaming that last part in frustration. As I said that I put the safety on and pitched the gun at the dry dirt like it was a baseball. It bounced and stopped a couple feet away. I looked up at Terry, tears welling up in my eyes. Terry grabbed my shoulders again.

“Hey, you’ll get it next time.”

At this point I broke and tears started coming down my face one at a time. “Who even says there will be a next time?”

“There will be, and we’ll be ready.”

“Yeah, but what if the guns don’t do anything? What if bullets don’t hurt it and knives do nothing? What if all of our preparations mean nothing?" I fell to the ground, burying my face in my knees, tears streaming down my face. “What do I do if we can’t kill it and the rest of my life is tormented by this freak.” I stopped and pointlessly tried to catch my breath. “Why shouldn’t I just give up now and go home? Return to San Francisco and just end it all. I’m starting to feel like that might be best.” Terry kneeled down and put his arm around me.

“You mean move back in with your parents?”

I scoffed. “Yeah right. Like I could do that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t! During the alcohol abuse I stole two hundred bucks from them and they didn’t know why. They didn’t know I was addicted to booze and they badically disowned me. They knew something was wrong but they thought it was drugs. They thought I had stolen money from them to buy heroin or cocaine or something. They gave up on me which sent me spiraling even worse. I had no one to turn to at that point and that’s when the Hunchback first showed up.”

“Well, yah got me now,” Terry said looking out into the trees. “So you’re not alone anymore. I’m here for yah, and I promise yah that I always will be. We’ve been through a lot together and I don’t know how I could manage all the stuff going on without yah. Meera really likes yah too.”

I sniffed trying to get control of myself and looked at him. He was smiling, which was odd given the circumstances, but it felt weirdly comforting to have him there with me. “Thanks, Boss. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“Meera and I only ever had one daughter. So to me, you’re kind of like a son that I never had. It’s nice.”

I smiled and put my arm around him too. We sat there for a few more minutes, watching the sun lower in the sky before Terry got up and said, “Come on, we need to make our way back to camp before the sun goes down.” I stood up and he led me back since I had no idea where we even were. When we got back it wasn’t a very pretty sight. There’s no way for me to confirm or say with certainty that it was the Hunchback, but all of the food that we had was unpackaged, removed from their respective containers, and thrown in the dirt. We had nothing left but the tent. Terry and I had brought four wheelers out and parked them a few yards away, he went over to them and examined them. They seemed fine so we decided that we would head out tomorrow and buy some more food to bring back to camp. We went to sleep hungry but we toughed our way through it and had breakfast with Meera in the morning. That afternoon we brought some metal shooting targets to the campsite, and set them up in a nearby clearing. Terry used them to help me make my aim more precise, so that next time I would have a better chance of actually hitting the Hunchback. It didn’t really help much but I hit it a few more times than I thought I would.

That night went by smoothly, I had a bit of trouble falling asleep, but the next morning we both woke up to a howling sound, like the one I heard coming out of the motel TV a year ago. I jumped up and grabbed the knife, which I kept next to me at all times just in case.

“What in tarnation kind of animal is that?” Terry asked groggy and still half asleep.

“It’s not an animal.” I said putting on my belt and the sheath of the knife. “It’s the Hunchback. I’ve heard it make that sound before. It’s nearby. I know it.”

Terry got up and threw on his concealed carry harness. We had both decided to wear normal clothes to sleep in in case the Hunchback showed up in the middle of the night and we needed to chase after it. I unzipped the door of the tent and saw the Hunchback staring at us from the woods. I grabbed the Sig Sauer from the nearby folding table and took aim. I fired and missed it by inches. I ran out of the tent and took pursuit as the Hunchback started to flee. Terry was just a couple feet behind me as we both chased after the creature while it slunk its way through the woods. It’s not a fast creature, but its long legs helped it gain distance quickly. We chased it for a few minutes until it disappeared from view. It was the same as last time. I turned a tree and it was just gone. Terry caught up with me, out of breath.

Suddenly a thud came from behind us and we both turned to see the Hunchback lunging towards me, mouth open, claws out. I tried to dodge, but was just out of time. I put my arm up and its claws sank deep into my right forearm. We tussled on the ground, rolling over and over a few times. When we stopped it was on top of me, still scratching at my forearm. Clawing chunks of skin off. It bit down into my side and blood came gushing out. I screamed in pain as best I could when it brought its fist down into my chest. I heard a snap as one of my ribs broke, and a sharp pain in my side became more increasingly prevalent. Terry ran over to try and help me but it pierced its claws directly into his chest. When it took them out blood came rushing from the holes. I finally managed to move my hand down to my waist and grab the knife on my belt. I swung my arm up and stabbed the beast directly in the neck. It screamed and jerked back, breaking the blade away from the hilt of the knife. It took off in the direction of the clearing where we had set up our target practice. I got up and limped over towards Terry. Kneeling next to him, I grabbed the bottom of his head and lifted it up.

“Go on, go after it.” He groaned.

“No, I can’t leave you.” I tried to tell him but he cut me off before I could finish.

“I’ll be fine. Just go.”

“But Terry”

He gave me a weak shove. “Go! I’ll be fine. Go kill that thing, for both of us.” I stood up and looked down at him, considering if I should leave him here, possibly to die. He looked up at me and screamed, “Go on now! Get!”

I turned and left him there, lying on a bed of leaves praying that he would survive. I ran in the direction of the clearing. I pulled the gun from my waist band and cocked it, ready to end my mystery once and for all. I pulled it up, arms extended, like I had seen in cop shows before. The sky was cloudy and gray. It looked like it was about to rain, and it would be a bad one. Mississippi winter rain again. This was the type of southern rain that doesn't stop for a couple of days. I could feel that I didn't have long before it would start. A raindrop fell on my forehead as I turned and entered the clearing. The Hunchback was just standing there. Staring into the sky as if in a trance. I halted at the edge of the trees. I felt like I was in some sort of Doom game.

“Hey, you fuck!” I screamed at it. It turned and looked at me, licking its lips like normal. Rain began to fall even more and I took a couple steps forward. It didn’t move, and I took one more step forward. Then it came running towards me, its arms falling behind it, making it look kind of like Naruto. It tried to swipe its claw at me, but I dodged to the right, rolling underneath its swinging hand. I shot it in the shoulder and its arm went limp. It screamed with a mix of pain and fury as I got up and retreated a few steps backward. I took another shot and just grazed its leg. It roared again and came back at me again. I waited for it to get closer, to make sure I could hit the shot but when my gun jammed, my heart dropped out of my chest, and the next thing I knew the Hunchback was on top of me again, gnawing the flesh from my chest. I was starting to see my ribs. There were at least three of them that were broken. I was screaming and hollering in pain and piece after piece of flesh was ripped away from my body. It was excruciating. My throat started going hoarse and my screams got quieter. The world started going black and I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness. Then suddenly a gunshot rang out over the trees and the Hunchback stopped eating me. There was a new gash in my forehead, which was streaming blood into my eye, so I was running half blind. I got myself to sit up, propped up on my right arm. Which was missing skin and bleeding all over the dry ground.

The gunshot had come from Terry, who had made his way to the clearing. He apparently had unholstered one of his Springfield 911 9mms and shot the Hunchback directly in what would be the spine, but it had done nothing to stop it. It knocked Terry to the ground and ripped into his leg. Terry was screaming and howling in pain. The Hunchback taunted us by matching his howl and then it laughed, or at least I think it laughed. I wasn’t really sure if it even could. I pulled my gun up to eye level, and prayed to Terry’s God that I might be able to hit it from this distance, just this once. I closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger. Bang. When I opened my eyes again the Hunchback was slumped over on its side, a bullet hole in its head, and Terry was crawling his way over towards me. I didn’t have much time left. I could tell. I was weak and bleeding a lot. The pain in my side was unbearable and it was getting hard to breathe. As he got closer I shakily muttered, “Terry, I. Terry.” And then the world went black.

The next time I opened my eyes I was in a hospital, sun shining through the window, with a breathing tube in my mouth. Pretty much my whole body was wrapped in bandages and my left arm was in a cast. I closed my eyes again and when I opened them, the breathing tube was in my mouth, there was an IV in my left arm, my right arm and chest were still in bandages, and it was nighttime. I looked over to the opposite side from the window and Terry was sitting next to me, in a wheelchair. I tried to sit up but was shot with pain throughout my entire upper body.

“Hey hey, take it easy.” Terry said softly, putting his hand lightly on my chest. “Nice to see yah awake again.”

“How…. How am I still alive?” I muttered, trying to find the strength to move my mouth and speak.

“Grace of God. Best explanation for everything.”

“At least someone was on our side against that thing.” I muttered. “What happened to you? Are you stuck in that thing for good?”

“No no. They had to strap me in this thing because I kept trying to walk before the doctor said I could. They finally gave me this thing so that I could move around and come visit yah.”

“At least you’re not too bad.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to my leg.” He gestured towards his left leg, which was still wrapped in bandages. “They say I’ll probably need a cane after this but I’ll walk again.”

I leaned back, further into the bed. “Yeah? And what did they say about me?”

“You’ve been out for five days. They said yah likely wouldn’t live to see another day. They gave 200 to 1 odds. But here yah are.”

“Damn.”

“Yah were in pretty bad shape. Yah had five broken ribs, and a puncture in your lungs. When yah stabbed that thing in the neck and it jerked back it both broke your wrist and dislocated your shoulder. Your right arm was missing most of the skin as was your chest. They had to give yah three skin grafts to fix that. I really am happy that yah woke up. I don’t know what I would have done with myself if yah had died.”

“You wouldn’t need to feel bad. I’m that one that dragged you into this mess man. Did I kill it?”

“Pretty sure. That was some good shooting form yah. I told them where the body was. They’re making their way down to it now to get it. I had to show it the footage from those video cameras of yours that we set up in the campsite.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s all over.”

“I’m gonna leave you for a bit. Go talk to Meera and tell her you’re awake. She’ll be really excited to see yah again.”

“Hey, what happened when we got here?”

“Meera brough us, that’s what took me so long. I had called her and told her to be prepared to take us here in five minutes. When we got here she told them that we had been attacked by a bear. When I woke up the next day I told the hospital I wanted to talk to the department of agriculture. I told them everything and showed them the videos. You should have seen the looks on their faces.” He said laughing. I tried to laugh but it made my chest hurt. Terry rolled out of my door and I turned my head back to look into the ceiling.

And that brings us to today. It’s been five years since then and I haven’t seen that thing since. There’s no way for me to confirm that it’s dead because the DOA never found the body. I can say though that all of the torment and nightmares and sleep paralysis, everything has ceased, and I am happier now than I have ever been. About three years ago I met and began dating a girl named Clarissa. She’s a registered nurse and actually works at the hospital I was in after the attack. We learned that she apparently changed my bandages once. Small world I guess. She has a Catholic background and even though she’s not really practicing she still goes to Mass on Christmas. I joined her last year. It was an interesting experience. We moved in together about a year ago, and life has been smooth sailing. We just had our first child, a girl which we named Theressa Anne Belmont. We call her Terry for short. Named after Terry and mother Teresa. She’s absolutely gorgeous. She inherited my green eyes, and Clarissa’s black hair. She has such tiny hands. I could talk about her all day but I am digressing. She’s my whole world. Both of them are. I still work at the store, but I have been “promoted” to managing the newly opened second one. Yes, Terry and Meera finally managed to open a second one, three years behind schedule. We actually asked Terry and Meera to be our daughters' godparents and they happily agreed. They treat her as if she’s their own granddaughter. We take her over there at least once a month, if not more. They absolutely adore her. I don’t blame them. I’m digressing again.

I’ve told Claire, my nickname for Clarissa, everything. I was able to make a copy of our footage and I have the scars, so she believes me about it all. She’s actually the one that convinced me to write all of this. I don’t really have a point in writing it other than to journal my experience. I guess if any of you have a problem with that thing, if you want, you can message me and we can talk about it. I could give you some advice. Maybe tell you what type of rounds would do the most damage. Armour piercing probably. I really hope I don’t get messages about this thing, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But if I do, I’m more than willing to help. If you, or anyone you know, has ever encountered this thing, just know two things, it’s called the Hunchback, and you’re not alone. My name has been Jordan Aaron Belmont. And this was my story.

[lovedistrict]

Hey, this might be a bit of a weird one but I really don't have anyone I can tell.

I've been with my boyfriend since the start of 2020. We were both really happy together for ~2 years, then his habits I dislike started to peak out. He likes to promise, swear up and down that he will do a task that needs doing, and then never get around to it. I tested this with washing dishes and he never touched them, even when we had no clean ones left. He also tends to withhold information that makes him look bad. I didn't know until 1 1/2 years of dating and six months into living at our second apartment together that his parents were paying his portion of our rent money. He'd been spending all of his on gas and weed.

Seven months ago, we packed up our belongings and moved across the US to live closer to his family. We moved in with them and they seem really happy to have us around.

Especially his dad. He would regularly give his son a lot of spending money until his wife yelled at him to stop. He would regularly ask if we needed anything and if we did he would get it for us. We make our own money now but his dad still likes to see if we want anything.

My boyfriend still likes to spend most of his money on weed. When his parents send him out to get something for them he will almost always pocket the leftover money for himself, and I always feel pretty bad about that.

Recently his parents have been fighting. They're both stressed about other things and have had a hard time getting along. On a night that his wife worked, I spent time in their backyard talking with his dad, mostly just letting him vent. It seemed like he needed it.

He started talking about how kind and caring he thinks I am, saying i'm like a daughter he never had. How he likes having me around. How if they got divorced, he would move out and still let me live with him. Things like that.

When the conversation died down, he was just staring at me and smiling. When I went to turn in for the night I gave him a hug and he hugged me back and kissed me on the cheek. It felt like he didn't want to let go. He was pretty drunk but that's somewhat normal for him most nights.

I'll admit my boyfriend's dad is really attractive. He exhibits behaviors that I wish his son had, which definitely influences my feelings towards him. I've had a major spike in my feelings for him since that night and find myself kind of hovering in areas in the house I know he frequently sits.

Any advice?

Hi. So. From what you said I got the idea that maybe you’re not really into your boyfriend as you were in the past. The things you mentioned gave me the idea that you don’t admire him as a man anymore. So I think maybe you should first think this over because it’s just not worth it to be with someone who you don’t really want to be with. It’s wasting time and it’s also not right.

About his dad. Since you’ve mentioned he has some qualities you wish your boyfriend had, I got the impression that maybe you think you’re into him but it’s just the idea of being with a man who doesn’t behave like a boy. Maybe it’s not really him that you want, but a man that’s mature and will have all these other qualities your boyfriend doesn’t have. The way he treated you doesn’t necessarily mean he’s attracted to you. But really just seeing you as the daughter he never had and being happy his son—who he made pretty obvious he loves—is with you. Especially since he was drunk.

Overall I think you should realize if you still want to be with your boyfriend or not. That’s more important.

His dad’s married and married people tend to go through some phases when they argue a lot. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll divorce. Even if he said so. Also. You don’t want to be the one to break up a family, right?

I’m sorry. I’m really not sure what to say.

Hope I could help you. Wish you the best.

[theknightlywolfe]

As someone who has been mowing with one of those old school spinning blades mowers for four years: They're really not bad. The key thing is a level lawn. Too many gopher holes or dips or a slope and then it gets iffy. When I'm not accidently dealing with those or larger sticks, it's just walking in my yard. And yeah, you'll need an edger much more with these than a gas mower, but electric ones are relatively cheap, don't use up much battery life, and you aren't buying gas and maintaining a mower. Hell, I haven't even had the blades sharpened once and it still works just fine although I'm sure that can't last. I think between the edger and the mower I spent under $100 and, again, I'm out maybe pennies worth of electricity into it since.

And the reality is I am trying to wild other parts of my property without touching the stuff that is already established and healthy but that takes a lot more work and money and effort until they take and fill in, so the lawn is "easy". I am single handedly trying to maintain and improve, and re-native or food forest, a nearly quarter acre property. And do it for drought conditions. And being able to just walk for an hour and have a huge chunk of property done makes it all more doable.

Most of what randomly shows up in my area that isn't dandelions or salsify is toxic. Bringing in native plants is hard because many are toxic. Not just to animals that may snack, but to touch. Others can slice your skin open unless you are wearing good gloves. One of the most common side of the street native plants is toxic to breathe and touch much less eat for over half the human population. So most of what volunteers *cannot* be allowed to stay. I even keep separate garden gloves just for pulling weeds because I don't want to transfer to the food plants.

So yeah, I'm keeping my lawn, and I'm keeping it maintained. But I'm using a manual mower and pulling dandelions by hand, and watering from rain catchment as much as I can, and overseeding with clover and more region friendly grass varieties. And I don't use pesticides or fertilizers and if those walking onions and stars of Bethlehem want to show up in the grass, they mow just as well and look just like grass when mowed.

North American friends, please don’t mistake UK “let our native weeds grow freely” as blanket permission to claim US non-native weeds as equally beneficial. They don’t have the same value to our native pollinators

No Mow May is a huge case study on cross-Atlantic mistranslation

Listen to Dr. Sheila Colla, NA native bee expert, instead of UK honeybee people:

“Coming back from the biodiversity crisis will require active stewardship, not neglect, of altered landscapes.”

I permanently keep this article open as a tab on my phone because I reference it so much

yes, something flowering is better than nothing, but all this money, research, PR, and literal seeding of weeds going on could instead be used to support our actual native bees, instead of offering them non-native, poorly nutritious diets that can literally lead them to canibalize their own eggs

[kireijae]

i.o.u- l.dh

summary: a late night adventure with Haechan, your older brother’s best friend, leads you to confront your feelings for him.

genre: non idol au, fluff, tiny bit of angst if you squint, technically a college au as well, also kind of comedy but i’m not very funny

word count: 4,029

warnings: swearing and there’s a slightly steamy makeout scene, also like the implied use of weed but it’s a v small one i promise.

a/n: eee my first hyuckie imagine! i worked really hard on this so i hope you all like iittt! please leave feedback if you can! also this was edited at 10:55pm and i’m exhausted so there are probably mistakes-

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Your eyes scanned the street from your place on the sidewalk. The streets glistened under the streetlights with the rainwater that had fallen earlier. The cool breeze was refreshing against your skin, unlike the musty air you’d been swamped with in the party upstairs. The smoke and the presence of so many strangers had nearly left you gasping for air.

You checked your phone for any messages from your brother, eager to get as far away from the party as possible, but as soon as your phone unlocked you heard a honk from the street, which pulled your head up.

There was a black car pulled up right ahead, your heart picked up its pace when the tinted window sunk down low enough to reveal Haechan. His hair was a light brown, somehow still shiny even though you’d seen him with at least three different hair colours in the past two months. His skin was glowing too- even under the subpar car light.

“Y/n!” he had to yell to be heard over the scraping sound of the cars, “Taeil sent me to pick you up!”

You dropped your shoulders from their tensed position, pushing down your feelings and stepping forward to open the car door and get inside. The car smelled like Haechan: men’s shower gel and a faint woodsy scent.

“Where’s my brother?” you turned to him, genuine confusion curved into your brows.

“What? Am I not good enough?” Haechan asked, placing a hand on his chest and feigning offence.

You shook your head at him, used to his antics by now. He’d been best friends with your brother since preschool, always there at family gatherings and lazing around your house on most weekends.

“Well, when I asked my brother to come pick me up I sort of expected him to pick me up,” you said it slowly, matching his teasing with your own. Things with him always fell into a rhythm like this, after the initial anxiety of being around someone you had feelings for left, snarky comments bounced back and forth like a ping pong ball between the two of you. 

“Okay, fair point,” he said, starting the car, “He’s still busy with that essay. Apparently it’s due in like twenty minutes or something. So, since I’m such a good friend I offered to pick you up.”

“Haechan, before I left you were the reason he wasn’t doing any work,” you scoffed, refusing to let his ego inflate- even for a minute.

“That’s not true! He was on a break!” he whined, eyes wide at the accusation but his gaze still directed towards the road.

“For three hours?”

“Yes,” he said, matter of factly with a nod of his head, “Rest is important.”

“Whatever,” you said, “Just take me home.” 

“I actually have to do something else for Taeil, too,” he didn’t take his eyes off the road, they were glinting from the neon signs that lined the buildings on the street outside. The streetlights made the skin of his hands glow in passing, creating a hypnotic rhythm of light and dark over his skin.

“Can you not drop me off first?” you knew the answer even before you asked- he was going to make you go with him. And you were going to give in.

“Please?!” he whined again, plush bottom lip drooping in a pout, “It’s pretty far and I hate being alone!”

Sighing, you asked, “Where is it?”

“Johnny’s house…” He trailed off, expecting an outburst to come from you at the distance you’d have to drive.

You couldn’t believe you were considering this. Johnny’s house was on the other side of the city and you were already tired out from the party you’d spent only half an hour at. But, something in you wanted to stay. The thought of spending some time with someone outside your friend group seemed refreshing and the fact that it was Haechan was even more enticing.

You turned your head to look out the tinted window at the buildings passing by you in a blur, “Fine,” you sighed, “but you owe me.”

He grinned, his full cheeks jutting out further, and made a sharp turn in the opposite direction of your apartment. Your body swayed at the sudden change in direction and you held onto the side of the seat instinctually. Haechan was a good driver- but a slightly wreckless one at that.

After a few moments he turned on the radio, tossing you his phone, “Put some music on.”

Looking through his phone, you weren’t surprised at the extensive collection of music he had on his Spotify- most of the songs were new ones you hadn’t heard of before. Others were old throwback songs from the 2000’s and your mouth turned up into a smile at the sight of Shinee’s ‘Replay.’

You pressed play and leaned back in your seat, grin even bigger now. You waited for his reaction, which came in the form of a wave of laughter. 

“Oh, fuck,” he said, barely able to speak from laughter, “Remember when Lucas danced to this at your sleepover party?”

“Of course I remember that, he ruined the song for me forever,” you laughed along with him.

Your smile turned into a grimace at his next question though, “What ever happened to Lucas- actually to that whole group of friends? I never see them anymore.”

“Drifted apart,” you mumbled. You truly wished there was more to say than that. You wished you could say you tried to stay in touch when you went to university but couldn’t; or that something huge had happened that couldn’t be fixed. That wasn’t the truth, though. You hadn’t done anything- nothing that made them leave and nothing that made them stay.

Haechan sensed the tension around the topic and let the conversation fade, hoping the sense of unease would dissipate with it.

When the next song was over, Haechan came to a stop at a gas station, “Want anything?” he asked, pulling up the handbrake and taking the keys out of the ignition. The car practically fell down to the road beneath it as the power was turned off.

“I don’t have any money on me,” you raised your empty hands.

“So you don’t want any of those gross gummy bears you like? Or a soda?” he raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, “I’ll buy them for you.”

“I’ll take the gummy bears if they have any,” you said gratefully, and he got out of the car and went into the shop.

You thought about your earlier conversation with Haechan- about how much you missed your friends. The way they’d joke around with you and tease you lightheartedly about anything and everything. A year ago you would have nearly exploded at the idea of being alone with Haechan at all- let alone for this long- and they would have teased you about it for weeks. Somehow though, those friendships faded. You went to a different university to them, you paid attention to your studies and spent more time at home than you ever had. The only contact you had with other people being with fellow students between lectures and at home with your brother and his friends.

“I got you the biggest packet they had,” came Haechan’s voice through the open window, “and the peach soda you like.”

You smiled at him, thankful that he’d brought you out of your thoughts and thankful for the snacks, “I could kiss you.” 

“Mm? Then by all means please do,” his signature shit eating grin was plastered on his face. 

Your cheeks heated up visibly at that, though you hoped the poor lighting in the car hid the fact. You hit him in the chest with the back of your hand and he doubled over in fake agony, the canned coffee he bought falling to the ground.

“Awh,” he groaned, continuing his act. 

“Oh please,” you said, rolling your eyes, “Just start the car, Hyuck.” 

“I can’t. My pride- it’s bruised,” he held onto his stomach and shook his head, eyes screwed shut.

Before you could stop yourself you leaned over and pressed your lips to his cold cheek in a hasty kiss.

“There,” you tried your hardest not to show your surprise at your own actions, “Better?”

He perked up, back pin straight, eyes wide and a huge smile on his face, “Very much so, yes.”

Before you could do anything, he started the car. A smirk struggled its way onto his face despite his efforts to stop it and his cheeks became a beautiful pink colour. His sudden shyness made yours deflate slightly and you felt your heart and cheeks warm at the thought of your effect on him.

“Hey,” he said suddenly after a few moments, “Hand me one of those gummies.”

He held out his hand, the skin pulled tightly over his slender, outstretched fingers. When you didn’t make a move to place one of the sweets in his hand, he made a grabbing motion with his fingers. That brought you out of your weird staring stupor and prompted you to grab a few gummy bears from the packet to place in his hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed your weird hand staring moment.

He shoved all six of the sweets into his mouth at once, face scrunching up in disgust, “These really are terrible,” his words distorted by the gummies in his mouth.

“Then why’d you ask for them?” you looked over to him, your mouth pulled into a smile and your brows furrowed at his actions. Your cheeks were starting to hurt- they always did after spending so much time with him.

“I forgot they were that bad,” when he came to a stop at a red light he shook his body as if it would rid his mouth of the flavour. 

The rest of the drive to Johnny’s house was filled with more laughter and sneaky comments thrown back and forth. There were fewer cars on the road the longer you drove and the movement of the car seemed to calm you.

In the driveway of Johnny’s parents’ house, Haechan turned to you once again, “Are you gonna come in?” 

You nodded and got out with him, you’d never actually been in Johnny’s house- since most of them still lived with their parents, Taeil’s friends usually came over to your shared apartment.

Johnny opened the door even before you got to it and ushered both of you inside, you assumed Haechan and texted him when you stopped.

“You guys have to be quiet,” he said, without even a ‘hello’, “My mom and dad are sleeping and they were in a shitty mood earlier.”

“Hey,” you asked quietly, grabbing Johnny’s attention, “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Right through that door,” he pointed behind you and you went in.

You went to the sink to wash your hands, they were sticky from the sweets you’d had in the car. Along with the sound of the water spilling into the sink, you heard Johnny and Haechan’s voices through the thin walls- so much for being quiet.

“You two finally together or something?” 

“Huh? No. Listen-”

“Dude, you’ve had a crush on them since forever, how have neither of you said anything?”

Your eyes widened at those words and you felt the blood in your face sink down to your heart. You turned off the tap and put your cold hands on your neck, before wiping them on a towel.

“Listen,” his voice was as stern as it could be, though it broke a bit at the end of the word, “Did you find Taeil’s textbook: yes or no?”

You heard a chuckle that had to be Johnny’s, “Alright I’ll go get it- by the way-”

His sentence was interrupted by you coming out of the bathroom.

“Did I interrupt something?” you asked in a tone that you hoped came off as joking. 

“I need a favour,” Johnny said, ignoring your words and leaving the room for a few seconds to find the textbook Haechan had been so adamant about getting. He came back, textbook in one hand along and a dark piece of material in the other, “Jaehyun left his hoodie here, can you get it to him, please?”

You yawned, taking the textbook when he handed it to you, “Why can’t you do it?”

“My parents won’t let me use the car after I locked the keys inside it last week,” he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment as he said it, words falling pathetically to the carpeted floor.

“And why can’t Jaehyun come get his own damn-” you were cut off by Haechan.

“Okay we’ll do it, but-” he took the black hoodie from Johnny, who was looking up at Haechan with his head still bowed. He pointed a finger at him, “-you owe me,” then pointed the same finger at you, “And I owe you.”

“Twice!” you said as he pulled you by the hand towards the front door. You both said your goodbyes to a smiling Johnny and got back in Hyuck’s car. Little raindrops had appeared on the windscreen since you’d gone inside.

“I swear after this I’ll take you home,” you smiled at him at that, letting him know it didn’t bother you. 

The car began moving again, 90’s RnB playing softly in the background and soon the rain got heavier, bulbous drops hitting the car. Jaehyun’s apartment was only a few minutes away from Johnny’s, in a highrise building lined with silver, glittering windows. 

“His parents are loaded,” said Haechan when he noticed your eyes trying to see the top of the building through the rain clouds above.

“Please tell me he’s not on the top floor,” you whined as Haechan parked the car.

He got out before you and you heard a satisfied sigh echo through the undercover parking.

“I’m so fucking good at this,” he said, hands on his hips, standing behind the car. 

You got out and shut the door, walking over skeptically to see what he was talking about. 

“Perfect,” he said, gesturing to his car in the parking space.

He was right- the car was perfectly in the centre of the two white lines. You huffed out a laugh at him and his ego, handing him the hoodie he’d apparently forgotten about, “Alright, I get it , you can park a car. Can we go inside now?”

“Hey, you’re lucky you get to witness a master operating that vehicle! Maybe observing me will help you actually pass next time,” he leaned his head over to you while he was walking, his tone was cocky and he had a sly smile on his face.

You flicked him on the forehead between the fluffy strands of hair that lay there and he yelped while you said, “Fuck off that test is rigged.” 

“First of all- not true. Second- why the fuck did you flick me?!” he yelled before you came to the automated glass door of the lobby.

In front of you stood two marble pillars in the middle of the room that twisted all the way up to the ceiling. Beyond them was a chandelier, jewels dangling over a seating area, where lush white couches stood. They looked as if no one had ever laid a hand on them on them and the plants that littered the room looked so real you had to touch one to be sure of the material. 

“You were being an ass,” you answered simply after taking in the room.

You followed Hyuck over to the elevator, the sound of your footsteps seemed to have a mind of their own, you swore you could hear them walking up the walls and across the ceiling.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, a group of people around the same age as you stampeded into the lobby and then the elevator. All of them dressed in glittering clothes and bright, shining makeup. One of them had eyelids full of pastel glitter and another had a coat made out of fluffy white feathers. 

You all crowded into the elevator, you and Haechan unfortunately squeezed right into the back corner of the metal box.

“What floor are you two headed to?” asked a man who was in the highest heels you’d ever seen in your life.

“The top floor!” Haechan basically had to throw his voice over the glittering heads of the other people.

You groaned at his words and felt the elevator start moving. When you’d asked to get picked up from a party you hadn’t expected to be shoved between Haechan and a girl with rhinestones on every inch of her dress instead. You’d left the party to get away from people, not to get pressed up against them.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to the girl. “You two dating?” she asked, blue eyes lingering on Haechan’s face.

“Uh n-” you began, but Hyuck spoke over you.

“Not yet- I’m working on that,” he said smoothly and winked at you, which made your heart begin to push against your chest rather violently. 

“Too bad,” she said as the doors to the elevator slide open to the fourth floor, “you’re cute.” She winked at you and walked out with the rest of the group, their heels and accessories clinking down the hallway. 

You stood in shock from having been flirted with twice in the span of thirty seconds, not realising that you were still pressed against Haechan. 

“Y/n~” he said in a sing-song voice, dragging your eyes away from the spot you’d been staring at.

“Sorry!” you said a bit too loudly, moving to dart off him. Hyuck, however, held you to his side, only stepping forward to press the button for the top floor again with his index finger, holding Jaehyun’s now crinkled hoodie with his other fingers.

“Just needed to press the button again- it resets sometimes,” he said, stepping back into his place, “You okay?”

“Were you being serious? About ‘working on’ dating me?” the words came out quickly. Your voice was smaller than you thought it would be and it carried an air of surprise- which it shouldn’t have, since you’d heard him and Johnny talking earlier, but it felt more real now.

His brown eyes glided across your face, he seemed to be exploring every option he could in his mind. Lips pulled close to his teeth and eyes wide, before he leaned in and kissed you. 

He tasted like the canned coffee he’d had and mint and the second you tasted that combination on his lips you couldn’t pull away. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you flush against him, your arms flung over his shoulders. The kiss heated up fast, his hands gripping at you to try to pull you even closer, your fingers threading through his hair, shaky sighs and satisfied hums filling the elevator. 

Just as you both pulled away for air, the doors opened on the floor seven levels down from where Jaehyun’s apartment was. An old couple appeared immediately and stepped into the elevator. You took a step to the side to get away from Hyuck, but stood on the hoodie Haechan had apparently dropped. You picked it up, holding it in front of you with both hands.

“I told you it was the wrong floor,” said the woman, closing her eyes in annoyance.

You tried your best to look presentable as they bickered, straightening your shirt and wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. Hyuck did the same, combing his hands through his hair and adjusting his jeans. Once the reality of the situation sunk in for the both of you, it became hard to even look at each other without laughing. You had to pretend to yawn in order to hide your smile and Haechan pulled his lips between his teeth to literally bite his own smile back. 

Once the couple got out on their floor (still one below the top), you and Hyuck fell into laughter, with him literally falling to the floor on hands and knees. You leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator and laughed in silent breaths and funny hiccoughing sounds. Soon, the door opened and you gathered yourself as much as you could before you helped Haechan up off the floor. Halfway down the rows of apartment doors you and Haechan had calmed down, the mix of embarrassment, tension and perhaps a bit of tiredness having died down. 

The hallway was carpeted and filled with the muffled sound of music coming from one of the residents on the floor. Your heart nearly dropped when Haechan stopped in front of the door from which you were sure the music was coming. 

He pulled out his phone and, not letting go of your hand which he had been holding onto since you helped him up, texted Jaehyun. A few seconds later, the door opened to Jaehyun, who seemed half asleep as he leaned on the doorframe. You were glad the mood of the apartment seemed to be the opposite of a houseparty. 

“Yeah?” he blinked slowly, eyes slightly red.

Haechan snorted at Jaehyun’s state- because he was most definitely in one- “Johnny asked us to bring you this,” he pointed to the hoodie- which was now completely crinkled and had a dirt mark on it- which you held out to him.

Jaehyun took the hoodie, not even looking at it. He looked between the two of you, his gaze falling down to your intertwined hands, “Fuck you, Haechan,” he said, head tilting back in annoyance, “Now I owe Johnny ₩10,000.”

“What?!” Haechan’s jaw dropped

“I have a bet with Johnny,” he said, yawning halfway through and leaning his head on the doorframe, “And I just lost.”

“How long have you had this bet?!” Haechan sounded genuinely betrayed.

“About 15 minutes,” he said nonchalantly, moving his hair out of his face, only for it to fall right back where it was.

That had you confused, “What was the bet?”

“That you two would get your shit together by the time you got here,” Hyuck scoffed and looked away in disbelief, tongue in his cheek, “Oh and I think Taeil owes Taeyong money now, too.”

Right then, your phone chimed with a message from the gambling brother in question and you opened it while the two boys argued about Hyuck himself not being in on any of the bets.

the youngest: hey, can u guys bring milk? its finished :/

you: sighs alright 

you: btw apparently you owe taeyong money now xx :)

You locked your phone before you could see his reaction and slid it back into your pocket. You turned to Hyuck again and sighed, “Taeil needs milk,” you stated incredulously.

He raised his eyebrows, “Okay now he owes both of us. And this isn’t over- next time there’s a bet I want in,” he said frowning at the older boy like a little kid.

The two of you said goodbye to Jaehyun, who kicked the door closed behind him, and returned to the car once again.

“Were we both really that obvious?” you asked as you clipped in your seatbelt.

“I don’t know about you but I was really good at hiding it,” his smug- and obviously sarcastic- tone made you cackle.

“Yeah that’s why Johnny knew you’ve liked me ‘since forever,’” you said, quoting the words you’d heard through the bathroom wall. 

His eyes widened so much you thought they’d come tumbling out of their sockets, “You heard that?” his gaze was switching rapidly between you and the road now.

You smirked at him and nodded simply.

“By the way,” Haechan’s voice was a bit croaky now, after all it was nearing 3am, “You will go out with me right? Like tomorrow night?” 

“Of course,you owe me two actually,” you didn’t have the energy to tease him further, your eyelids were practically dragging themselves across your eyes.

The last thing you saw before you fell asleep was Haechan’s flushed cheeks and the giant smile on his face.

i just remembered you asked for a tag o-O @infnteen sorry for the late one!

if anyone else wants to be tagged in my works please lmk!:)

if you enjoyed this, buy me a ko-fi!

© copyright jewelledtae 2021, all rights reserved

[the-last-carnival]

Graduation

July 9, 2021

At about 1:50 am my time, I learned that Kiryu Coco would be "graduating" from Hololive, which for those peering in from the world beyond the Vtuber hole, means that she is quitting streaming and cutting ties with the company as a result of a massive targeted harassment campaign. Yes, this happens often enough that we have a word for it. She's not the first to be bullied out of Hololive and she almost certainly won't be the last. She said herself in her announcement stream that her future is bright, so I'll take her word for it and focus, as I always seem to, on how I'm feeling. It's my blog and I'm gonna use it how I want.

A couple days ago, my boyfriend of three years told me that the best thing for both of us would be to stop dating and for me to move back in with my parents. We were engaged. When we met, we were both in high school, and we didn't know how to have a romantic relationship without hurting ourselves and our partners very badly, very quickly. Neither of us had high hopes once we started dating officially but, miraculously, it worked. We were and are very different people but we found an equilibrium and created a space to grow, to improve, to do right by one another. Then we moved in together, and then the coronavirus happened and then world we knew vanished. It happened that quickly. The joke I like to tell people is that my body is still waiting for Saint Patrick's Day 2020, but the further we get from that day the more I think that maybe it's not a joke. My childhood ended on Monday, March 16, 2020. I can remember clearly getting the email from work announcing that business operations would cease for the foreseeable future, followed by urgent instructions on how to sign up for unemployment. I shut my laptop and let out a long breath before saying to no one, "This is the real deal."

My boyfriend's lease was up in April. I wasn't on the lease or paying any rent, but I lived with him, so it was only fair that we make it official at the new place. The new place turned out to be a dump but it was close to a gas station and a Whataburger so it was tolerable. I was making more money than I'd ever made before, and it was for doing absolutely nothing. I had chores, and even did them on occasion, but the majority of my time was spent smoking weed, ordering food, and my New Quarantine Hobby: watching Hololive streams and clips (I did not make bread even once during the quarantine). I would absorb as much news about the BLM protests and the spread of the virus as I could take, often more, and then when the True Panic began to grip my heart, I would turn to Coco to calm me down.

I get the impression that a sizable chunk of Hololive's audience takes the "anime girl come to life" aspect of virtual youtubers at face value and enjoy their content because unlike 3D girls, they can be boiled down to digestible anime tropes, but they TALK TO YOU (if you give them money). I hope I die without ever meeting any of these people. To me, Hololive has always been where I go to peek into the lives of weird, interesting, talented women with a fun snapchat filter. And Coco was the weirdest, most interesting, most talented of them all.

If I could sit down face to face with the woman who makes content under the name Kiryu Coco, I'd ask her first if she'd ever been a language teacher or studied linguistics in college. Translation and communication was a theme in most of her original content. Her Japanese For Real 2020 videos, which made me a fan in the first place, were just as much sincere attempts at educating us English speaking viewers on some conversational Japanese as they were Funny Jokes. When she played Keep Talking and No One Explodes with Marine and Pre-crisis Haachama, she identified an upside down e not as, y'know, an upside down e, but the symbol from the international phonetic alphabet. Even the reddit meme reviews, especially the early ones, seem like they were conceived as a way to bridge the gap between the English and Japanese-speaking fanbases, which they have done to some extent, though I'm sure not to the extent Coco initially imagined.

All this is to say that through the videos she's made over the years, the Bar Cocos and the superchat readings, in all of them I see the heart of the best kind of teacher in Coco. I'm lucky enough to have had teachers like her, who believe strongly in what they're doing, who care deeply about those who struggle, who will endure hardship to make the lives of someone, anyone out there just the smallest bit better with the knowledge they impart. Without people like Coco I would have killed myself a long time ago. Without Coco in particular...maybe it's a stretch, but I don't know. What I do know is that once I started going back to work, back into the teeth of the virus, into the churning machine of late capitalism, Asacoco was what got me up in the morning.

It's possible that this is her final lesson. There's only so much a teacher can do; eventually you gotta graduate.

In part 2, if there is one, we'll talk about the harassment, and what this means for Hololive. It's not gonna be a fun conversation. Peace out.

-TK

[pricemarshfield]

i dig you

A fluff & angst Amberprice fic. Chapter 1/2. Read on AO3 here.

Chloe still seems shocked every time Rachel sits next to her at lunch. She hides it well, snarks at anyone who questions them, teases Rachel about the plays she still brings to read and reread again and again.

But Rachel's pretty insightful, and she notices when Chloe's eyes widen, when she shifts like she's not quite sure what to do, when her smile dims a little when Victoria loudly questions why Rachel's still hanging around the soon-to-be-dropout.

She's not sure what to do about it. If she just tells her no, Chloe, I do want to be here still, she's sure Chloe'd find a way to take it the wrong way, question why she needed to bring it up, deny she ever doubted it in the first place. One or all of those things. She loves her, but her abandonment issues run deep. Rachel could punch Victoria, but she'd definitely get kicked out for that, and she doesn't want to risk law school.

So she makes an effort to include Chloe in everything. Chloe sits in on rehearsals, ignoring Mr. Keaton's increasingly desperate attempts to get her to join or at least take the intro elective class. They get high in the junkyard, find a little room and make it their own with graffiti (with actual spray paint, thank you, not a Sharpie). Rachel watches Chloe's weird movies, Chloe watches Rachel's Broadway bootlegs, they listen to punk and drive around in the truck, fabric of the seat replaced so they can't see the deep, dark red stain from when she got stabbed.

It doesn't change anything. Chloe still looks at her like it'll be the last time they hang out every time they have some minor disagreement, texts a hundred times in a row begging her not to leave her every time she gets drunk without Rachel there to reassure her in person. It's...a little exhausting, if she's being honest. She loves Chloe, she wants to help her! But it's...sometimes she's just trying to have fun with some other group, and it's been three parties of that in a row.

"You texting your girlfriend?" asks some well-meaning newbie to the Vortex Club. Rachel opens her mouth to deny it, already dreading having to make herself heard over Victoria's snide commentary and Nathan's barely-veiled homophobia, but then her phone goes off again, and again, and one more time for good measure.

"I do have to take this," she says, and pretends she can't hear the conversation that kicks up before the door's fully shut behind her.

The cool, fresh air outside is refreshing, and she takes a couple deep breaths before calling Chloe.

"Rachel," Chloe says, voice slurring enough that Rachel's heart immediately kicks into a higher gear.

"Hey, Chlo," Rachel says, a nickname she has not used once in her life. "What's up?"

"Wher're you?" Chloe asks instead. Rachel doesn't hear the sound of the train, so probably not in the junkyard? But it could just not be passing.

"At Blackwell," Rachel says, which isn't, technically, a lie. She's on school grounds, and she says it casually enough that Chloe doesn't immediately push. "Do you want to come over? We could put on a movie, light some incense."

Chloe laughs, and the sound is light and easy before it cuts out abruptly. She can't hear anything on the other end.

"Chloe? Are you okay?"

"I'm fucking fine," Chloe says, and she keeps her voice quiet, so that means she's at her house. Rachel's tipsiness from earlier in the night has long since faded, she's probably good to drive, and she really, really doesn't want to leave Chloe alone. There's an edge to her voice that Rachel doesn't trust, reminds her of the fragility in her mom's voice the last time she visited before apparently disappearing off the face of the earth.

Rachel hopes she's in rehab. But she thinks Rose would tell her if that was the case.

"Okay," Rachel says. "I'd still like to hang out, if you're free."

"'Course I'm free," Chloe says. "i don't have any fuckin' friends, do I." It's not said like a question.

"You have me."

"Right," Chloe says. "Just the best of friends."

Rachel's already in the parking lot, trying to remember where the hell she'd parked the car. (Her dad's: knowing how much evidence they have on him working with Damon, he's been inclined to give her everything she wants, especially now that she's already met her mom. Rose still tries, too.) "Yeah. We're best friends, Chloe. You're the person I care about most in this shithole town."

"Yeah," Chloe says. "Yeah, when are we leaving, again? Thought you wanted to leave more than anything?"

"I did!" Rachel says, then corrects, "I do. I had to heal up after getting stabbed, remember?"

It's shitty and manipulative, but it works; Chloe's irritation switches to concern. "Yeah. I remember."

"But I am feeling better now," Rachel says. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"Now?"

"Sure," Rachel says. "Tell me where you are."

"Step-dick's house," Chloe says, quieter now. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it," Rachel says. "Do you still have all the clothes I packed you?"

"Yeah," Chloe says, voice hitching a little like she's about to cry. "I do."

"Awesome," Rachel says, excited despite herself. "Then I'll see you soon."

---

Rachel wants to be ready for the grand adventure with her friend at her side, but Chloe's house is more than a couple minutes' drive from Blackwell, which gives the logical parts of her plenty of time to ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing.

They have no money. Rachel's barely gotten her first credit card, and it has, like, 1500 dollars on it. Which is a lot of money, but she's already spent some of it on alcohol, on their half-decent fakes, on Venmoing Frank for their weed or the other things she's tentatively tried. So they have about a thousand, which will cover gas to LA, at least, and probably food, and do they really need hotel rooms?

But of course they need hotel rooms, they can't just park by the side of the road in the middle-of-nowhere freeways. Those are like...fifty bucks? A hundred bucks? They can share a bed, that should make it cheaper.

So. A thousand will get them to LA. Then they'll...get jobs, Rachel guesses.

She's got this idea of herself working at a diner, wearing some cute outfit with pops of red, serving coffee and making small talk with the chefs while she waits for her big break. But that's only good for the modelling; she wants to go into law one day, too.

Maybe she can transfer to a school there? Showing she's independent enough to live on her own (with Chloe, of course, but without her parents there) has to look good on an application?

Or reckless and irresponsible, like her dad keeps calling Chloe.

All-in-all, Rachel's doubting everything in her entire life as she pulls up to Chloe's house. Chloe isn't outside, and she's about to throw some pebbles at her window when the front door opens with barely a creak.

"Did you oil the hinges?" Rachel asks, trying to keep the tone light. "Handy."

Chloe beams at her, wearing Rachel's old tarot shirt. Fuck, her tarot decks, she wants to bring those. All her things. At least some clothes. Probably some food, too?

"Do you have all the stuff you wanna bring?" Rachel asks. "We might need to stop by my place."

"That's what you said last time," Chloe says, but looks at Rachel, wearing her party outfit--only a tank top and some high shorts, which are cute but not great for the only outfit to have in a big life change--and shrugs.

Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. "Plus, they'll get mad if we steal the car. And gas is gonna be expensive enough."

"Don't care," Chloe says. "I'll take the truck."

Chloe, who is visibly swaying on her feet, is absolutely not good to drive. Rachel thinks for a second--if she drives her dad's car back, Chloe can be in the passenger seat, but then they'll have to walk with all her bags back to the truck. If they take the truck, Rachel can leave the keys and a note explaining where it is. They'll be mad, but whatever.

"Can I drive your truck, actually?" Rachel asks, and Chloe shrugs again. It won't be the first time behind the wheel of the truck, but it will be the first time on actual roads, not the paths they'd cleared in the junkyard. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Sure," Chloe says, tossing her the keys and yanking at the handle on her side. Rachel opens her door, reaches over to unlock the passenger side so Chloe can climb in. "What are we getting?"

"Clothes," Rachel says. "Maybe my tarot decks."

A couple of the plays she has physical copies of. Any and all drugs left in her room. Her flashlight that Chloe made for her. The important things.

"Okay," Chloe says. "You mean it? We're gonna leave?"

"I do," Rachel says, and she should kiss her. She should. She has before. She wants to. But she looks at Chloe, eyes still wide with disbelief that Rachel will follow her, will help lead the way out. If she pushes this, and she's wrong...

Rachel grabs her hand instead, smiles at her. Chloe squeezes it, and they keep holding hands the whole way to the Amber house. Rachel hopes she won't ever let go.

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 10

"Garbage Person"

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol (explicit), injury description, blood, sick whumpee, anxiety attack, amputation mention (vague), noncon mention, conditioned whumpee, food mention (let me know if I missed anything!)

Nicko had been working on a tattoo when Ben called him. The skin underneath him belonged to a slightly older woman, a blonde with pink lipstick on her teeth that he could see every time she smiled at him. She was annoying, and she was flirting with him, which made her even more annoying. The first time his phone rang, he ignored it completely, too consumed in his work to even look up. Secretly, he was wishing that he was tattooing Gio instead. It had been a little over a week since Nicko made him sick by icing him out, and Nicko hadn't allowed himself to bring him back to the shop. Instead, it became his mission to make him better. He made him soup, he let him sleep in his bed, he even helped him take a bath the first day he was sick.

That had been difficult. Nicko had never been "nice", he knew that about himself. He was notoriously an asshole, famously short tempered and foul mouthed. He knew what empathy was, he could feel it, but it was just...rare. The knowledge that others had emotions and feelings didn't matter to him, most of the time. But when he gave Gio a bath, he'd never felt worse for someone in his entire life. Gio could hardly keep himself upright, couldn't even keep his eyes open, when Nicko undressed him and helped him into the water. Nicko hadn't washed the blood off of his face the night before, hadn't wanted to move him around and hurt him more than he was, so when he wet a rag and tried to gently wipe the dried blood off, he wanted to cry right along with Gio. He held his head still with one hand on his jaw as he ran the towel over the bridge of his nose, over his cheekbones, very carefully under his eyes, wiping away some of his tears along with the blood. Nicko couldn't believe he'd hurt him so badly. He felt even worse when Gio's face was clean and he could see the bruises he'd left there. Then Nicko washed his hair, there was blood there, too, somehow, and then he just sat outside of the bathtub and let Gio warm up in the water for a few more minutes. He couldn't stop crying.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whimpered out, using his wrists to push away the tears, directing his huge, teary eyes at Nicko. He looked hopeless, his chocolate brown eyes dulled down with fear and sadness. Nicko reached out and traced his thumb down Gio's face tenderly. He looked so young, with his hair slicked back out of his face and his huge eyes and his cheeks and nose flushed red from crying and his fever. His file didn't include an age when Nicko got him, but he couldn't have been more than 20.

"You shouldn't be sorry, Gio. Really, I'm the one who messed up. I'm..." He paused, frowning to himself. The words didn't sound right in his head, he hadn't used them earnestly enough all that often, so it was sort of alien to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Gio looked positively perplexed, like he was just as much as used to hearing apologies as Nicko was at giving them. "S...Sir?" He squeaked.

"When I came back out and saw you outside like that, all bloody and fucking tied up...God, Gio, I was just disgusted." He could see Gio's face fall even more, and his heart sank. "No! No, not of you! I was disgusted in myself. I was disgusted that I did something so awful to you. And I'm sorry."

After that, Nicko made him rest, and he nursed him back to health. It was the least he could do, after putting him in that condition in the first place. That morning, he was up with Nicko, asking if he could go with him to work, if he would finish his tattoo. Nicko thought it was adorable, but he still had bruises and still seemed a little out of it, so Nicko made him stay home. He was regretting it now, as the blonde bimbo told him "Don't be afraid to hurt me, I don't mind a little pain" with a wink.

The second time his phone rang, he told the blonde to give him a moment, pulling off his gloves as he stood up and walked into the next room to answer the phone.

"What Ben? I'm working."

"Hey, uh...you didn't take Gio with you to work, did you?" Ben's voice was a little nervous, and Nicko was instantly worried.

"No, I left him there. Is he not there?"

"Um..."

"Ben is he there or not?!"

"I thought I saw him earlier, but I can't find him now. I think he jumped ship, dude."

Nicko had never had an anxiety attack before. Nervous, sure. Fits of rage, all the time. But he'd never felt the tight rubber bands around his lungs feeling that took his breath away when Ben said that. So he hung up the phone and left through the back, all but sprinting to his car. It was a miracle he got home in one piece, with how fast he was driving and how badly his hands were shaking. Gio jumped ship. Gio hates you because of how badly you hurt him. You scared him so bad he ran away. You awful person. You horrible, garbage person. The anxiety only worsened when he got home and Gio really was gone, he wasn't just hiding out somewhere like he sometimes did. Nicko pictured him, his huge, horrified eyes, how small he was, how he was probably out there scared and alone and someone might hurt him and Nicko wasn't there to protect him. You should have just taken him to work with you. This wouldn't have happened if he came with you. This is all your fault. Garbage person.

It wasn't until after he had calmed down and hours after Salem was home that Nicko even realized any of his things were missing. He was exhausted, the second he explained to Salem what had happened there was a fight, with rightfully placed blame on Nicko that he was wrongfully defensive about, as always. With his nerves shot and beyond tired from his incessant anger, he got drunk. It was a bad habit, his drinking in an attempt to mute his anger. But it was better than picking another fight with Salem to blow of some steam, and it felt better than the newfound anxiety every time he thought about Gio.

It was when he was drunk that he decided to paint, to make a mess with some red without actually hurting anyone again, and he noticed a few of his paintbrushes were gone. No one ever touched his art supplies (especially not Gio, and especially not after Nicko once made a joke about cutting off his fingers if he decided to be a thief and take his things), and he was very particular about how it was all organized. So when he realized they weren't where he'd left them, even in his drunken stupor, he could tell that something was wrong. So he looked around more, and he was missing more than just his brushes. His room had basically been ransacked, and he didn't know how he hadn't noticed before just then. So he rushed back out to the kitchen, where Ben and Salem were both standing around talking.

When he opened the liquor cabinet (for the second time in the last hour, and he wondered again how he had failed to notice something so important) he was missing a bottle of vodka and the jar of cash he and Rory secretly added to for party funds was empty. There was only one other person who knew about it, and then it clicked.

"Nicko," Ben started in careful disdain, "shouldn't we be doing something besides...you know...drinking?"

"Gio didn't run away."

Salem scoffed at him. "Right. Why would he want to run away from you?"

Nicko shook his head, trying to rub some of the stress out of his face. "No, you idiot. Rory was here. She took my stuff. She took my art shit, she took my cash, she took Gio."

Ben was instantly pale, and Salem stood from his chair and began pacing. It was unspoken, but they were all thinking the same thing, more or less. Rory had a problem, she had ever since they all met sophomore year at a party, and she had never downplayed it or try to make it less obvious. Sober Rory was a rare occasion, despite at some point everyone telling her she should at least talk to someone, go to a meeting, go to rehab. So at some point, their persistence fizzled out and they stopped trying so hard, and she was happier that way, anyway. Nicko had tried a few times to give her somewhat of an intervention, but in the end he decided the only thing he had the power to do was be there with her, whatever she decided to do. Yeah, because you could be all the help she needed? You, the garbage person? Right.

Nicko spent the rest of that night, all the way through morning, driving to places she might be. Her friends hadn't heard from her in days, they'd said, and the dealer that they had been going to together said she'd stopped by the night Nicko kicked her out and bought some weed. After that, he drove up and down neighborhoods all over the city looking for her car. But he had no luck, and he returned home the next morning without Gio or any idea where he was.

Over the course of the next two weeks, Nicko starting failing his classes. He couldn't bring himself to care much about his assignments when Gio was still missing, somewhere with Rory, probably being pumped with whatever she was using. Don't forget that it's your fault. He's gone because of you're shitty decisions.

He also got fired from his apprentice at the tattoo shop, the blonde he was working on didn't particularly like him running out on her and not finishing her piece, and his boss didn't like it either. He couldn't really bring himself to care that much about it. His job, his school, none of that was important to him anymore. Not as important as Giovanni, who was his responsibility and was probably miserable and scared because of him.

So he mostly stayed hidden in his room, starting paintings but never finishing them, tattooing senseless things on himself out of boredom, laying in bed doing nothing. He drove around a lot, too, looking for anything that would tell him where Rory was. He got pulled over three times, he spent a ridiculous amount of money on gas, and he never found Gio.

The guilt was suffocating. Every morning when he woke up alone in his bed he was reminded that Gio was missing, and then again when he got up and saw his empty beanbag, and knowing that he wasn't there because Nicko hadn't kept a good enough eye on him was crushing.

At some point, even Salem noticed how much Gio being gone was eating Nicko up, because he grudgingly came into his room one night, hovering in the doorway, asking Nicko if he was ok. Nicko was sitting on his bed, eyes droopy from however much booze he'd had that day, and for the first time since Salem had known him, he looked painfully human.

"I was responsible for him," Nicko admitted, "if Rory hurts him...if something bad happens to him..." He didn't finish his thought, but Salem had an idea of what he was going to say: that it would be his fault.

"Nicko, whatever Rory does is not up to you. You've done everything you can to find him, that's all that you can do." It was strange for him to be comforting Nicko, of all people, especially after he had found out that he'd assaulted Gio and left him outside in the cold until he got sick. After that, whatever little respect Salem had for Nicko was gone, and now it was being replaced by pity.

But Nicko didn't want his pity, he didn't want to be comforted by anyone. He didn't deserve that. So he told Salem to get out, to just leave him alone. Only Salem, stupid, relentlessly nice Salem refused to leave, and instead he crossed the room and sat down next to him on his bed.

"He likes you a lot, Nicko. Did you know that?"

Nicko did know, unfortunately. He vividly remembered one of the nights when Gio was sick, when he turned over in bed and pressed himself close to Nicko and told him he was his favorite, that it hurt him when he couldn't be around him all the time. And now he was gone. And it was Nicko's fault. "Yeah, I know. He's sort of dumb in that way, isn't he?"

Salem laughed at him, mostly because he didn't know when Nicko became so self aware. "No, I don't think so. I think he's just miraculously good at seeing the best parts of people. He likes Rory, too. Even after...you know, even though she got him high all the time." Nicko let out a long, heavy sigh, and Salem followed suit. "I'm telling you that because he knows that none of this is your fault. I mean, to him, you fucking walk on water. You couldn't ever do anything wrong. So, wherever he is, he isn't blaming you. No one here is blaming you either."

Nicko didn't believe him, but he didn't have the energy to argue against him. So instead, he just said "ok", and then Salem left. Nicko spent the next twenty or so minutes drinking and sketching lazily, dragging pencils across a paper only as a means to distract himself. Everything he drew was ugly, every drink tasted awful, life was miserable. He thought back to what Salem had said, that Gio liked him a lot, and then he thought again of Gio whispering in the dark, "you're my favorite person, Nicko," and his heart broke all over again. He trusted you and you put him in danger. He liked you and you didn't even fucking care, you god awful garbage person.

He was pulled out of his spiraling, self hating thoughts by a knock at the front door. He almost wanted to ignore it, didn't want to ever see or speak to anyone ever again, knowing he would probably end up hurting whoever it was in the end anyway, like he did to everyone he'd ever been around. But then he decided against it, and he stumbled down the hallway with his beer still in hand.

Giovanni sank to his knees in the same instant that Nicko opened the door, so fast that Nicko didn't even realize it was him at first. Only when Gio looked up at him from his place on the snowy porch and started to choke out a familiar sounding apology did it click that it was him. He looked awful, his pale skin peppered with small scrapes and his neck littered with what looked like hickeys, the usual bags under his eyes were an even darker shade of purple, his lips were cracked and bloody, and his face had hollowed out dramatically.

"I'm so s-s-sorry that I left, Nicko," he was rushing out, tears threatening to fall from his frightened round eyes, "ple...please forgive me, sir, please take m-me back-"

Then, Nicko was on his knees too, reaching out to take Gio's face in his hands, frowning at him when he flinched away just a little. Once Nicko's hands were on him, he really couldn't hold back the tears anymore, staring at Nicko as they slipped down his face and onto Nicko's hands. He was afraid at Nicko's silence, he would prefer for him to just start yelling already so that they could get the punishment over with and Gio could maybe be allowed to sleep after. He was exhausted. But Nicko only kept staring at him, almost in disbelief.

Then, as if he remembered that Gio was still outside, kneeling in a pile of snow, he stood up and pulled Gio carefully to his feet, helping him across the threshold so he could shut the door and keep the cold out. Once he was inside, and upright, Nicko got a better look at him, and he was physically upset at how rough he looked. Then he noticed how badly Gio was shaking, and how he was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt nervously as he stared at Nicko. He realized then that he hadn't said anything, and Gio had apologized because he thought he was in trouble, so Nicko being completely silent was probably freaking him out. Gio let out a soft whine when Nicko stepped closer and pulled him against his chest.

"I was so worried about you, Gio," he whispered, swaying side to side, "I looked all over...I'm so sorry I let her get you. I'm so sorry."

Before Gio could even begin to protest the apology, Salem came down the hallway and gasped when he saw Gio all wrapped up in Nicko's arms. "You came back?" He breathed. Gio nodded as much as he could in Nicko's snug embrace. Nicko pulled away then, brushing Gio's hair out of his face and looking at him with a frown.

"Come on, let's get you some food. Anything you want." He pulled Gio behind him into the kitchen, forcing him to sit in a chair. Gio was confused, wasn't sure why he wasn't being berated with pain and cruel words for running off and being gone for so long. He watched as Nicko looked through the fridge, then jumped when the chair next to him screeched against the hardwood floor as Salem sat down.

"Are you ok?" He asked Gio softly, a concerned frown on his face. Gio was happy to see his kind face, but the question made his heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest. He wasn't ok, his body ached all over, everything felt uncomfortably fuzzy and far away from the drugs that hadn't worn off yet, his fatigue was so bad he felt like sobbing every time he had to move his tired muscles. More than anything he was confused, like always, and it was much too difficult to try and figure out why Nicko was being nice to him and trying to give him food like a reward when he had run away and been gone for so long.

"You want pizza, Gio?" Nicko called from the freezer, already pulling out a frozen pizza and setting it on the counter. Gio didn't answer either of their questions, it felt like his any words that he wanted to say were shards of broken glass on his tongue, and it would only hurt him and everyone around him if he started to talk. It was mostly because his mind was a mess of racing thoughts about Rory and Oscar and all the awful things they did to him and how badly it hurt and how scared he was and how horrible he felt for worrying Nicko.

His silence made them both uneasy, and Nicko set the pizza box down with a thud on the table in front of Gio, then he crouched down next to him, placing his hand on his thigh. Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut in response, Nicko noticed his shoulders began to rise and fall quicker in his uneven breathing.

"What's wrong, darling?" Nicko tried, keeping his voice soft and level. Gio cringed, turning his face away from him. "Talk to me, Gio. Please."

Giovanni let out a tiny whimper, shaking his head. Salem and Nicko shared a nervous glance. Salem shrugged his shoulders hopelessly, not sure how to comfort Gio or make him talk anymore than Nicko did.

So, without any other idea of what to do, Nicko reached up and tilted Gio's face towards him, even though he didn't open his eyes. "Gio, I can't help you feel better if you don't tell me what's wrong. I want to help you but you have to tell me how."

Now, Gio opened his eyes, his frown deepening when he looked at Nicko. Within half a second his eyes were overflowing with tears and his shaking went from a tiny shiver to violent tremors up and down his body. "I...I don't know what's wrong." He admitted. His voice was a hoarse whisper, and Nicko pulled his hand away from his face after he spoke. Gio burst into tears just then, tilting his head down as he sobbed out weakly. "I'm s-sorry, I'm so so stupid I'm so f-fucking stupid I'm-"

Nicko shut him up by standing up and wrapping his arms around him again, pulling his head against his stomach and petting through his hair softly. Salem watched them with his hand over his mouth, obviously troubled at Gio's hysteria. "It's ok, Gio," Nicko soothed him, "you're not stupid. I'm not upset with you. I just want to help."

Gio wasn't really listening, couldn't hear anything over his ragged breathing and his sobs that were muffled by Nicko's clothes. When Nicko realized he wasn't going to calm down like that, he pulled off of him, looking down at his tears stained face. It's all your fault he's crying right now. Look at how broken he is because of you.

"You're not stupid, Giovanni. You hear me?"

The sternness to Nicko's voice snapped Gio out of it a little, he forced his mouth closed and nodded up at him reflexively. Then, Nicko sighed softly and turned away from him altogether. He grabbed the pizza, busying himself with that instead of having to look at how ruined he made Gio. He was only turned away for a minute or two before Salem cleared his throat.

"Um, Nicko?" He said. "I don't think he's really hungry."

When Nicko turned to see what Salem was talking about, and Gio had his head rested against the table, passed out cold. Nicko hadn't thought that he might be tired, and he felt like an asshole for not even checking with him. With a huff, he turned off the oven and threw the pizza carelessly back into the freezer. When Nicko picked Gio up he didn't even stir, completely limp when Nicko scooped him out of the chair and pulled him against his chest.

Seeing Gio back in his bed was more relieving than Nicko had anticipated, and once he was curled up under the covers all Nicko could do was stare at him. He was broken and banged up and looked seconds away from death in a lot of ways, but Nicko felt like he'd never seen anything as beautiful as Gio passed out under his covers. Suddenly, the art block he'd had since Gio had been gone dissipated, and Nicko was as quiet as he could be as he got out a canvas and what little art supplies Rory left him with.

Hours later, Gio woke up to find Nicko asleep next to him, covered in splotches of paint on his face and hands and all over his clothes. He sat up just a little, and then noticed the huge painting across the room. Through the dark he couldn't tell what it was, but it made him smile nonetheless. With a yawn, he layed back down, a little closer to Nicko than he was when he woke up. When Nicko reached out and grabbed onto his hand, Gio tensed up just a little, only until he laced his fingers in between Gio's and held onto his hand gently. Gio looked up at him only to see him still peacefully sleeping, and he realized he probably thought he was someone else, maybe Rory. Still, Gio happily pushed himself closer, resting his head against Nicko's shoulder and keeping his grip on his hand tight.

[deejadabbles]

The House of Anubis (Atem X Reader Halloween Special)

Part One: The Manor

One //// Two //// Three (coming soon) ///

Summary: The house was large, a manor, really. Imposing, yet striking more aw with every turn of a corner. You had never thought you'd be dragged back into the family business, but your brother needed you, and so too did his latest project. It stood alone among the trees, yet, you never felt alone when inside. Hairs prickle on the back of the neck, shivers run down spines, and hands fidget with every unoccupied moment. And the thing- or rather, person, who simultaneously eases and worsens these feelings? Atem, a man who was just as mercurial as the house itself, all smirks and light comments one moment, then lingering stares and strange musings the next. So the real question remains, will you uncover the secrets both the man and the manor are harboring?(A Halloween mini-series inspired by the show 'The Haunting of Hill House' and the movie 'The Frighteners'. The Reader x Atem themes are, admittedly, light as this mostly focuses on a spooky haunted house story, but the romantic undertones are there. Gender-neutral reader.)

A. N. Just wanted to do a little something for a spooky season, I wanted to get this done before Halloween but that's probably not going to happen. So instead I'll post the first chapter now, hopefully have the next out on Halloween, and post the ending some time a week or two after. Hopefully you guys like this and if you want something scary that's already complete, please consider reading my yugioh themed CYOA 'House of Fears'

It felt like you were driving through a decrepit, long-forgotten tunnel, vines and weeds slipping through cracked concrete and lights that had died years ago neglecting to guide your path. At least, that’s what it felt like. You found yourself once again leaning forward to peer up through the windshield, trying to find any hint of sky between the heavy canopy of leaves. The forest on both sides was so thick, that you weren’t even sure what kind of woodland creatures could wander between the trunks. And how the branches had grown to make a choppy arch above the road, you had no clue. There was some sunlight at least, gracing the road with their bright rays here and there, but the enclosed effect of this road was still a bit unsettling.

You forced yourself to lean back in the driver's seat and let out a frustrated breath that was meant to calm itching nerves. Honestly, you didn’t even know why you felt a bit nervous. Maybe it was the isolation of not seeing another living thing on this tunnel-like road. Or, maybe the stresses of the past days were still settling.

It continued to haunt you a bit, the way your heart and breathing seemed to freeze the moment you heard a calm voice on the other end of the phone announce that they were a nurse at St. Florence Hospital...and that your brother had been brought in. The nerve-wracking way a thousand thoughts had raced through your head in that second-long pause in the nurse's words was haunting too: Was he in an accident? Did someone attack him? Did he cut off a finger working with that old sawzall you kept insisting he get rid of? ….was he alive?

You had even started tearing up with the frustrating thought that you were miles and miles away while your brother lay dying in some backwater hospital- when the nurse told you that he had suffered a heart attack, but had survived.

Apparently, as your brother had informed you a frantic phone call later, he was working on his latest project when, as unexpected as it sounded, he had experienced a horrible clenching around his heart. Just to pile on the horror of the situation, he had also been high atop a ladder when it happened, resulting in a broken leg and arm; one from getting caught between the ladder's steps as he fell, and the other from hitting the ground, respectively.

Thankfully, someone had been around to call an ambulance. Even still, he was lucky to be so young, because otherwise help still might not have gotten there in time.

Seriously though, a heart attack, at his age? Apparently it wasn’t unheard of, he was almost twelve years your senior, and you were already well into your 20s. Still, it was a worrying situation, especially with how severe the heart attack had been and the doctor had implored your brother to either go back to living in the house you and he sometimes shared, or have someone come out there and take care of him until he was better.

With those as his options and refusing to abandon his latest project, he had literally begged you to spend the next few months in the quiet town of Hartstown. You understood, even as you argued with him about his seemingly nonexistent self-preservation instincts. After all, he had told you all about this dream project of his, and how he had already sunk a lot of money into it, he couldn’t abandon it now. So here you were, in a town that had two restaurants but only one gas station, and driving through a forest so thick you were sure the sky could turn to nightfall without you even realizing it.

Your brother had sent you pictures about the hundred-year-old manor, gushing in texts about how he was going to make it beautiful again, then turn around and sell it to some rich yuppy who wanted a lavish country getaway. It really was a beautiful place, years of neglect not doing much to tarnish its splendor or the possibilities you could see in it. Then again, you had always appreciated old houses, you and your big brother had grown up in numerous ones.

Your parents had made their living flipping houses, especially restoring old ones to their original glory and big brother slipped into the business with ease, genuinely finding it to be his own passion. That made things easier after the accident, in a way, he had taken on their legacy with pride. You had tried too, for a while, years of helping your parents giving you most of the experience you needed, but you just didn’t take to it the way he did. He understood, and handled the family business on his own while you pursued your own wants and dreams.

Still, your history with the business made this decision much easier. The day you arrived in Hartstown, thoroughly scolded your brother for his poor health, and announced your plan, he had insisted that you didn’t have to do this, that the house could wait until he was better, and that he hadn’t dragged you out there to pull you back into the family business. You had waved off the insistence with ease; it wasn’t like you actually planned to spend all of the coming months just driving him to physical therapy and keeping his airbnb clean.

You had spent the first week here by your brother's side almost constantly. Apparently, the first week or two was the typical window of danger where other complications would make themselves known. But, now that that window was passing and you personally saw how well your brother was already doing, it was time to get to work.

You frowned down at the directions he had given you; surely you hadn't already passed the old street sign reading 'longhorn drive', right? No, you were far too attentive for that, desperate to get off this road and looking for your escape. The map app on your phone was useless, cell service being spotty at best on this road, as he had warned you.

At least when you made this turn it was only one mile until you got to this infamous manor.

Ah! There at last, you saw the oldest road sign you had ever seen, nailed to a wooden post at the corner of a turn that went into a road even more narrow than the one you were on. At least the trees seem to thin out a bit here, hopefully it would make you feel less trapped in the last leg of the drive.

It did, especially as the trees continued to get thinner and more spacious, the sun shining on the road like a guide. With that, the drive didn’t take long at all and before you knew it you were coming up on the iron gates you’d seen in your brother’s many pictures. They were open of course, the EMTs having other priorities as they rushed him out of the house, so you didn’t bother slowing down much as you made the turn. The gates were in good shape, one of the few things that wouldn’t need replacing and the wrought iron fence accompanying it wasn’t far behind in condition. The dirt driveway was narrow and weed-infested and you made a mental note to ask if some stylish cobble stone was in your brother's budget. There were more trees, tall ones that only let you catch glimpse of the house at first, but soon enough the dirt path ended, and the house crept into view on your left.

Pictures didn’t do it justice. It was a true mansion, made of stone, three stories high with turrets on the front corners, a wide oak front door, and spacious grounds on all sides. It’s style was rather unique, almost combining gothic elements such as many tall arching windows and at least two verandas and balconies, with craftsman style roofs and the first floor sitting high above the ground. It had been built in the 1920s, but apparently, the architect liked the styles of decades prior.

The faded wooden sign beside the grand front steps read: The House of Anubis.

Anubis, the Ancient Egyptian god of death and the afterlife if you remembered right. You felt silly for it, but the name made you a bit uneasy- who would basically say their house was a gate to the afterlife? The Egyptian references did make sense though, the manor was built by an archeologist and professor who made it big during that hayday of excavations and exhibitions.

Eager to get started, despite the odd name of the place, you parked the car, killed the engine, and climbed out onto the still tall and weedy grass. The steps were those old narrow kind that made one feel unsteady, and that feeling wasn’t helped by the fact that they had several splits and cracks in them, even pulling apart where the oldest fractures lay. At least the stairs themselves weren’t anything special, shouldn’t be that costly to replace.

You were tempted to walk along the veranda first, taking in the golden and white tiles and worn down furniture that had only recently been set back into place. You could picture it now: sitting on the wicker loveseat, tea or coffee in one hand and book in another, occasionally lifting your gaze from the pages to stare out at the garden or forest without a care, feeling the cool breeze cross over your face just enough to soothe but shielded enough not to be bothered.

You shook your head, chucking at your own day dream, you really should just head inside first, there’d be time to wander later.

The front door was at least closed, but again, the EMTs wouldn’t have exactly been concerned with locking it on their way out, so you didn’t even have to use the key big brother gave you. The door creaked in a loud croone when you pushed it open and before you was an entry hall unlike any you had seen before. You almost did a double-take, wondering if ‘The House of Anubis’ had transported you to a pharaoh’s tomb. The walls were a bright pale color, almost like sandstone but with a more golden tint, and portraits of Egyptian people and hieroglyphs wrapped around the room. The wallpaper wasn’t too busy or cluttered though, the depictions of people spreading out just enough so one’s eyes wouldn’t be overwhelmed when looking at them. There were two pillars beside the grand staircase and more ancient patterns were painted on them. Some chairs, tables, and even a sofa sat along the walls, again in that style befitting a king’s resting place.

How had none of this been stolen or vandalized over the years? Your brother had told you that the manor was fairly well known in town, even though no one had lived in it for over ten years. Surely bored teenagers would have come knocking, it was odd to find any furnishings at all in houses such as these, but especially not ones in such good condition.

You had to shake off that uneasy feeling again, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth and moving on. Though, only after you shut and locked the front door behind you, finding yourself just a bit paranoid now.

After allowing yourself a moment to study the beautiful depictions of what you knew must be a goddess on the wall, you moved on to the tall pocket doors standing open on the left. This would be the drawing or receiving room and, as you had expected, you saw that big brother had set up his base of operations here. His workbench and draft table sat in the center or the large room, tools and even some lumber scattered about. As you approached the draft table you took note that this room followed a more Victorian look instead of the Egyptian tomb style: rosy wallpaper, a beautiful fireplace framed in dark wood, and a thick but faded rug spanning most of the hardwood floor.

The floorplans for the house were laid out on the table, pinned together with a clear sheet of plastic between each floor. As usual, the plastic was there so your brother could mark and note areas that needed repairs without damaging the actual floor plans. Currently the plans for the first floor were lifted, hanging off the table and opening the second floor plans for viewing. He had checkmarks beside a few of the notes, the repairs that had needed his attention first like plumbing issues and checking for mold. It was the same for the other two floors, as you saw when you flipped the pages; big brother had been busy in the six weeks he’d owned the place.

After scanning the blueprints thoroughly enough that you felt comfortable wandering through the house, you stepped back, deciding to check on some of those repairs he’d already made. Before you left the room, though, you almost tripped on a familiar device: his old boombox. Of course, he never worked on a house without it and you couldn’t deny the comfort of having music play while you worked. He even had his massive CD case propped up beside it, but you took a chance with whatever disk was already in there and pressed play before heading out of the room.

Some 80’s pop music echoed off the old walls as you wandered into the next area, the conservatory. Again you were left in shock with how well-intact the room was, only have two panes in its all-glass wall broken and your jaw actually dropped at the plants bursting to life around you. Most were likely weeds by now, but you still appreciated the timeless beauty, which was only accompanied by some more wicker chairs, delicate tables, and two statues sitting in the far corners. One was of a goddess, Isis, if you had to take a guess, and her companion was a god, maybe Ra, both made of onyx colored stone and painted with gold and turquoise that must have once been bright and shining. You would definitely have to map out how to return the status to their original glory once more urgent repairs were made.

Unfortunately the conservatory was only a bridge to your destination, as the double glass doors on the other side of the room led to the study. This was a room made of dark woods and moody red wallpaper. Mahogany desks and leather chairs would be right at home here, if it wasn’t for the fact that some animals had found their way in and made nests. You nodded in approval at big brother’s work, almost no sign of the nests remaining besides some scratch marks on the wood floor and walls that could be sanded down and covered at a later date. The door had also been replaced, it’s shattered panes the reason why animals had found their way inside in the first place. You were just making to cross the room to the next door- when a sound clattered not an inch away!

You choked back a gasp, then scolded yourself a second later. No, not a clatter, just your ring tone.

Shaking your head, you took your phone out of your pocket and answered it. “Please don’t tell me you’ve broken something else?” you said in place of a greeting.

“Oooh you’re so funny,” mocked the familiar voice on the other end, “Just taking my hour rest so my heart doesn’t give out, thought I’d check in on you. You got to the house okay right?”

“Yup, though that one road with the thick-ass trees went on for forever. You sure there’s not a faster route here?”

“Nope. As it is those roads are mostly just used by farmers going into town, we’re lucky it’s as direct to the house as it is.” Your brother paused for a moment before saying, “So, what do you think? Pictures don’t do it justice, right?”

“Definitely, this tomb robber really knew how to build a house, some rich history enthusiast is going to love it once we’re done.”

“I still wish you would have waited 'til I could come with you, I wanted to see the look of awe and wonder on your face,” he said with a sigh that was far too dramatic for the topic.

“Dude, they’re having you do an hour of physical therapy for each injury you managed to collect. I am not sitting around doing nothing for three hours three times a week.”

Honestly, it still shocked you how much they were putting on your brother’s recovery, when your uncle had had his heart attack, they only made him attend hour-long sessions of physical therapy. Maybe they expected more out of a younger specimen.

“Besides, with the chair they gave you it’d be really hard to get you into the house, at least until I can set up a temp ramp,” you pressed on, thinking of the large, clunky, motorized thing he was having to get by in, hopefully when his arm healed up he could switch to an easier wheelchair or maybe even crutches.

“Yeah yeah, call me an inconvenience, I see how you are,” he mocked, “So what are you doing now?”

“Oh, you know, just checking out the rooms.”

“….You’re looking over my work to see if I screwed up, aren’t you?” he accused, a disbelieving incredulity coloring his tone.

“No! I’m just seeing what’s been done, that’s all!” you answered, voice higher than you wanted it to be.

“Yeah right,” he mocked back and promptly blew a raspberry into the phone like a proper, mature adult. Someone in the distance on his end called out and he pulled away from the receiver to answer, then, “Alright, kiddo, I got to go, more breathing treatments and a test to run. Call you when I’m done.”

After a goodbye from your end, you hung up the phone, slipped it back into your pocket, and finally finished your short walk to the other side of the study. You turned the crystal-like knob of the old door opening into the library, the next room of the house most likely to impress you. Impress it did, with its two stories of built-in bookshelves, rail-guided ladder, cozy fireplace, and spiral staircase leading up to the second floor.

Unfortunately, what drew your attention more than the grandeur of the space, was the fact that there was blood on the hardwood floor.

Oh, this must have been where he had his heart attack. The tall metal ladder that had fallen near the dried smear of blood supported the theory. With a breath to calm yourself, you approached the spot, trying to assure yourself that the stain was smaller than it first looked. Besides, your brother was fine. Banged up and grumpy from lack of work, but fine, the blood meant nothing now.

With a sigh you started turning the work ladder back upright, noting the scuff marks on the floor where it must have been when he fell. After matching the legs with the marks, you looked up, trying to figure out what he had been working on. This was the only stretch of wall besides the fireplace where there weren’t any bookshelves. Instead a tall window stood there, allowing sunlight to peek in, shining directly on the fireplace, both to aid anyone cozied up in the room to read, but also to prevent sun damage from getting to the bookshelves. It took a minute to spot, but in one of the middle panes, there was a hole and spider-web cracks in the glass, he must have been trying to patch the hole with a temporary cover.

You made a note to get on that yourself after you cleaned up the blood, and began turning away, but something else caught your eye.

You squinted, peering up at the flowery wallpaper beside the window. There, just a hand-span from the broken window pane...were those tears in the wall-

“Hello.”

You let out a yell that bordered on a scream, clutching your heart as you spun around at the deep voice.

A man, a young man, stood leaning against the fireplace, taking in your startled terror with a raised brow. When had he..?!

“Where did you come from?” you demanded between still thundering heartbeats. “Who are you?”

Something flickered in the stranger’s violet eyes, “Apologies, I did not mean to scare you.” He shrugged off of the fireplace, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dark pants. “My name is Atem, and you are?”

Now that your heart was finally starting to settle, you straightened a bit before giving him your name. “How did you get in here?” was the next question on your lips, the words still a bit snippy.

He paused a moment, eyes narrowing just a bit, as if your verbal approach greatly intrigued him. “The front door was open. Again, I apologize, I suppose I got too used to coming in of my own accord while your brother has been here.”

“You know my brother?”

He closed his eyes with his short nod, “Yes. In Fact, I’ve been worried about him. When I saw your car I was hoping you would tell me...is he alright?” The stranger- Atem, flicked his gaze to the bloodstain, something darkening in his eyes. “I was the one who called for help, but I haven’t heard any news of his health. I was worried.”

You didn’t answer, not right away. You thought about just pressing on with your questions but, the look in Atem’s eyes, the way his brows pulled down low, really did say that he was being truthful about his worry. Besides, wasn’t it nearly impossible to get word from the hospital unless you were related to the patient? Made sense that he hadn’t heard any news.

“He’s a bit beaten up, but alive. He’s actually doing pretty well considering how bad his injuries were,” you answered eventually, and were satisfied when Atem’s expression visibly softened at the news, relieved. “He said he was lucky that a friend started making the habit of dropping by the house to keep him company, I guess you’re that friend,” you hesitated again, somehow finding it impossible to let go of that last thread of suspicion you felt around this man. Still, you managed an honest, “Thank you. You saved his life, doctors said that even being as young as he is, he still might not have made it if they got here any later.”

Something shifted in Atem’s eyes again, something dark casting over them and he only held your gaze a moment before his eyes drifted up to the top of the ladder where you had been staring. “I only wish I could have gotten here before it happened.”

An odd statement, you thought, your brother would have had the heart attack regardless of someone being there. Well, maybe Atem just meant he wished he’d been here to see the signs of the attack before it caused the dummy to fall off that damn ladder.

Atem blinked then, as if remembering himself. He straightened and looked back at you with a small, polite smile. “I’m glad he’s alright though. Are you here to take over the manor’s renovations? Or, are you taking him home to recuperate? He tells me that you and he share a home when he’s not working on his latest project.”

You gave a dramatic sigh, “We do, it was the house our parents left for us, but he hardly ever stays there. And unfortunately I couldn’t convince him to recover there so, your first assumption is correct. Between keeping an eye on him, I’ll be taking over all of this-” you waved your hands to encompass the room and the house beyond, “-until he gets better.”

You noted how the friendly smile slowly slipped from Atem’s lips as you answered, and now he was almost frowning even as he nodded. “He has an almost admirable dedication to this house. At least he isn’t insisting on working himself just yet.”

“He has a dedication to every house he works on,” you said, almost absentminded and when Atem’s brow lifted in yet another silent question, you shook your head to clear your thoughts. “He’s just like that with every place he buys. Our parents taught us to see the hidden beauty in all houses, and how restoring them was a kind of...I don’t know, a kindness?- That’s not the right word. They used to say houses could love a resident just as much as the resident can love a house, and how, if it’s fallen apart or been abandoned, it withers like a plant without sunlight. Renovating it- restoring it, is like breathing life back into it, so it can properly love its next resident.”

The moment the small lament was out you found yourself flushing, especially at the way the corner of Atem’s lips quirked up and his eyes softened a bit.

You cleared your throat, “Sorry, just...I haven’t worked on a house with him in a long time. Brings back memories.”

“I understand,” Atem said, the other corner of his mouth lifting to another light smile. “You both get the same look in your eyes when you talk about homes like this. It’s quite lovely.”

The heat in your face flared up even more, and you cleared your throat again before turning, looking at the library at large. “Anyway I uh- better continue my tour of the house,” you took a step towards the door opposite the one you’d entered, then, “you can walk with me, if you want.”

The offer surprised you a bit, despite having said it. Much like the oddness of Atem’s sudden appearance, the mix of feelings you felt around him was a bit baffling. You still felt a slight uneasiness, one you hadn’t been able to shake completely since he first startled you. Despite that, however, you didn’t feel particularly endangered by him. Quite the opposite, to create an odd, almost giddy cocktail of emotions, the unease mixed with a slight need to keep the man in your presence, get to know him, work out the curious nature he seemed to exude.

“I would like that,” Atem replied simply, and took a few steps to join your side.

Together you two walked to the second of the three doors in the library, and this opened into a hallway of sorts. If you remembered the floor plans right, the door on your left was a closet, and a bathroom was on the other side of the wall on your right.

“So, you said you saw my car outside Odd, what with all the trees surrounding the house, do you live nearby?” you asked, not bothering to hide your feelings airing on the side of suspicion. Hey, just because your wariness was overshadowed by your curiosity didn’t mean you were pushing everything aside altogether.

He didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he smirked at you as you two turned the corner on your right. “I often take walks in the woods and I saw your car through the trees. Several houses were built in the woods near the manor, so staff who worked here would have the option to live closer to the house and not have to travel from town.”

That made sense, despite the gothic appearance the manor was built in a time when having servants was falling out of style and becoming less commonplace, even among the wealthy. The professor who built the house might have had a cook and housekeeper, maybe even a butler, but not anything so fancy as to need live-in help. You could see the modest little houses in your mind now, but somehow, the idea of Atem cloistered up in one didn’t seem to fit quite right.

“So those houses aren’t part of the estate?” you asked as you two entered a longer, more narrow hallway; an open doorway on the left, and the hall stretching onward to your right.

“Not anymore. The second man to inherit the house, professor Arthur Hawkins, sold them. I think he did not want the hassle of upkeeping the rental properties.”

Choosing the doorway on your left, you entered the kitchen, a big, open room with white tile walls and gray floors. “You seem to know quite a bit about the house and its history,” you couldn’t help but look over at him, again making your suspicion and interest apparent.

“I guess you could say I’m a bit of a local historian. I’ve lived here a long time.”

Again, his choice in words struck you. I mean, the man looked no more than a year or two older than you, if that. Maybe he was just one of those old souls who liked to put on the air of being mature and more experienced than they were.

Deciding not to comment on it, you took some time to survey the kitchen. It was an impressive thing, plenty of countertops and an old oven fit for making extravagant christmas dinners. According to your brother's notes there was a bad leak in here that he had taken care of first and foremost, and the evidence of that was in the hole in the wall, exposing a new length of pipe and recently axed wood. That would probably be the first thing you patched up, something more simple to jump back into the family game.

“So, tell me more about the family history of the place. I know it was built by an archeologist in the 20’s, but that’s about it,” you asked as you turned around, heading for the swinging door that led into the dining room.

“Well, there isn’t much to tell. The house was built by Professor Alexander Hawkins, a man who made his wealth plundering the sands of Egypt.” The bitterness in his tone made you pause, but he continued on, “He built it with the intentions of keeping his family happy while he was away on digs, but, unfortunately, he and his wife died only twenty or so years later. Their son, Arthur, followed in his footsteps in some ways, taking an interest in Ancient Egypt.”

“Not surprising, considering he grew up in a house like this,” you added, noting the replica busts of a queen and pharaoh sitting on the mantel that looked better suited for a Cairo exhibit than a dining room.

Atem gave a nod, “Fortunately he was a bit more virtuous than his father, and made his living through more honest means. He too passed, and left the manor to his granddaughter, Rebbeca.”

Rebbeca, the woman who had sold the place to your brother. It was a story you had heard often; family home slowly losing its grandeur through the generations, until it finally passed to someone who just didn’t make enough money to afford a place so extravagant. Still, the fact that the house was still in such good condition continued to surprise you, especially given how much stuff was still here. Almost always the house was stripped of anything that was worth a dime before it was sold. Yet the granddaughter hadn’t even bothered to take the lovely dining table that sported carvings of eagles, hounds, cats, and other animals revered by the ancient Egyptians.

It was a small dining room, given the rest of the house, just big enough to fit the usual family of four and maybe a few guests. Beyond it, passed another set of pocket doors, was a lounge. Some more replicas of pharaonic treasures sat on tables and mantels, but the thing that caught your eye most were the once lavish settees and chairs, as well as the paintings hanging on the walls. They weren’t in the typical ancient Egyptian art style, rather the softer, more vibrant kind seen in the victorian era. All were depicting scenes of life that might have happened in those ancient cities forgotten in the sand; a diverse market bustling with eager shoppers looking at pottery and the work of weavers, a barge on the Nile river with women dancing on the deck and a couple kissing as they tipped their toes into the water, a pharaoh’s throne room filled with beautiful women and bowing courtiers all in awe by the king’s commanding presence atop his throne.

Not even these, the granddaughter had not even taken these? Odd, very odd.

“I thought these would catch your eye, they seem to catch everyone’s eyes.”

You jumped a bit at the sudden closeness of the voice, realizing Atem was leaning in almost near enough to brush your arm. How had you not sensed him coming closer?

He was looking over the painting of the Pharaoh’s court as he continued, “They are not particularly accurate, the colors and style of the clothes, the lightness of their skin, even the architecture is off. Still, I suppose they’re interesting to gaze at.”

“An Egyptologist yourself, are you?” you teased, even nudging him in the shoulder.

His smirk was back again, “I suppose you could say that.”

You couldn’t get too distracted, you didn’t have a lot of time left before you had to grab big brother from his therapy sessions. You would leave the inspection of the tower rooms for another day, and instead headed through the other set of pocket doors back into the entry hall.

“I should be going,” Atem began before you could make your way towards the grand staircase. “Thank you for easing my worry, I’m glad your brother is alright. It was a pleasure to meet you and... if you will allow me, I’d like to visit from time to time while you work, as I did with him.”

“That’s fine by me,” the agreement came easily to you, without a second thought. Despite his odd demeanor, you found Atem to be quite an easy person to get along with, his company should help keep this house from feeling too large and lonely.

At your reply, Atem’s expression shifted yet again, something close to interest or maybe even slight delight played in his eyes as they searched your face. “In that case, I will see you soon.”

His gaze lingered for another few heartbeats, long enough that you found yourself flushing again. You nodded your quick agreement before turning towards the stairs. A moment later you heard a soft click near the front door, but you actually paused when you didn’t hear a second. Looking over your shoulder, you found that the door was still slightly ajar. Little jerk, you’d have to remember to scold him for not closing the door properly the next time you saw him.

You only got halfway through your tour of the second floor before your phone when off, a reminder to start heading back to the clinic to pick up your brother. The clinic wasn’t in the little town closest to the house, rather a bigger town over half an hour away, but still close enough to justify you working while he was at his session. He was all eager to see you, despite how drained he looked from the exhaustion of physical therapy, and the moment he was packed into your car he was asking your options on the house.

You told him honestly how impressed you were with it, also voicing how odd it was that the place hadn’t been vandalized or stolen from given all the things left there.

“Yeah, took me awhile to get over that too,” he said from the passenger seat, fiddling with his phone in an effort to get directions to the pizza place he promised you dinner from. “I think the locals don’t give the house enough mystery to make teens interested in visiting it. Besides, there're several houses near the property, so maybe most assumed they couldn’t get away with breaking in- oh turn right at the next light.”

You did as instructed, then, “Speaking of that, who was the guy who called the ambulance for you that night?” You couldn’t help asking, you just needed to add a bit more credibility to your new friend before you relaxed around him more.

Your brother’s eyes went a bit wide, “Shit, I forgot all about Atem! I was going to ask you to find his place and tell him I’m alive. Dude’s probably been traumatized, finding me bleeding and heaving on the floor, I feel like such an ass now.”

“Well don’t worry,” you said, feeling satisfied now that you confirmed Atem’s claims, “he dropped by the house while I was there and I told him you were okay.” You found yourself biting your tongue on the words, considered for a moment, then spoke them anyway. “Something was a bit odd though, he just waltzed right into the house like he owned the place. I was looking over the library and he was just standing there, no knocking, no nothing.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw your brother scratching the back of his head, “Yeah, he kind of does that. I get the feeling he’s sort of appointed himself as the unofficial caretaker of the house, he showed up the first day I started working on it, guess I just got used to the way he just walks in, figured if he intended to steal from the place he would have done it already.” His protective mode must have been activated after he thought for a moment, because he was suddenly dropping that easy demeanor and looking you over with his brows drawn together, “He didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything, did he? I can have a talk with him if he did.”

Again you found yourself biting your tongue, thinking for a beat before answering. “No, not really, just startled me a bit. Not used to strangers just walking in, you know?”

He nodded, easing back in his seat again, “Yeah, I get you. Atem’s a good guy though, never gets underfoot when you're working, but great to talk to. He’s a bit weird, but cool.”

“Right…”

The conversation trailed off into silence, and for some reason, even after you pulled into the pizza joint and sat staring at a parmesan shaker after you ordered, your mind kept drifting back to the strange man at the manor one way or another.

A.N. So, what do you guys think about our mysterious Atem? How about the odd house itself? Any ideas on what's going on that or how this haunted adventure might heat up? Let me know your thoughts in the comments <3

[pleasejustfuckinghugme]

Forever

episode one pt. one (word count: 928)

jacobs!oc x fezco

warnings: mentions of abuse and attempted rape, crude language

none of these characters are my own except for my oc

i saw a fic where the italics were rue’s narration so i stole that idea. credits to whoever came up with that. please send good vibes because i am new and have no clue what i’m doing lol

Nancy’s relationship with her brother was complicated. They didn’t talk often. If you were to ask their friends the two simply avoided each other at all costs. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the Jacobs’ household; Nate and his father got along just fine, and most likely said about two words to each other a week. But when the twins did talk to each other, if you were in the room, you had a front row ticket to a UFC match. Growing up among the same people for eighteen years of your life allows you to learn a couple of things, and I know that all the times that Nate, Nancy , and their father spent with each other, tiptoeing around secret romances and conflicting morals was never going to get a happy ending. At some point, the thinning ice that the Jacobs family treaded on was bound to break.

The cool breeze was refreshing as Nancy rode her bike down the slick, black pavement. Her hair flew behind her, still tangled and sticking up on the back of her scalp, and the dark circles under her eyes were in stark contrast to her bright green orbs. The wind was nipping at her skin, and it caused her nose to turn a light shade of pink.

Up ahead, a tiny gas station peaked from over the trees, and her heart began to beat just a little faster in her chest. Maybe she shouldn’t have come; this really was not a good idea. But she knew what Aaron was like when he didn’t get his drugs, and she refused to let herself deal with his bullshit during her final weekend before school started back up. Now she was here, at the renowned gas station, to buy drugs. Not how she thought her Saturday morning would go.

When she skidded to a stop in front of the store, she noticed a man sitting in the garage. He hadn’t seen her, his eyes focused on the phone in his hand. Taking her headphones out of her ears, she wandered over to him. Her hands were damp, and she rubbed the sweat off on her oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she croaked, before clearing her throat. “Fezco, right?” She glanced over to him but still trained her eyes on her fingers which fumbled with the hem of her shirt. He looked up at her, cool blue eyes tracing down her frame. This caused her to become even more self conscious; in her haste to get out of the house, she hadn’t even brushed her hair, and she still wore her pajamas.

“Yeah,” he replied coolly. His eyes locked on hers when she finally looked at him again. “What d’ya need, kid?”

“I’m, uh, looking for Ashtray?” she replied.

“He in da back over there.” Fezco pointed into the small gas station over by the drinks. As Nancy turned around to leave, his voice stopped her. “What ya need to see him for?”

This question caused her eyebrows to furrow as she turned to face him again. Why else would she be needing to see the ten year old except for some weed or whatever? When their pupils met, the man cocked up an eyebrow, clearly amused by the shocked expression on her face.

“Kid you ain’t in trouble I was jus’ wonderin’,” he said. “I ain’t ever seen you buyin’ drugs before. Jus’ Nate.”

Nancy rolled her eyes at that. Nate wasn’t exactly addicted to drugs like Aaron, but he was still a douche about every other week when he didn’t get his dose of weed. She knew that he would most likely throw a hissy fit if he knew she was at the station buying drugs, so she quickly mumbled to Fez, “Hey, please don't tell him I was here.”

The man laughed, eyes never leaving her figure.

His amused demeanor caused Nancy to shift uncomfortably on her feet. She could feel her cheeks starting to heat up, and she held her head down trying to hide it from him.

“Look, um,” she stuttered out. Her hands dug down into her pockets, and she fumbled out a crumpled up sticky note. She opened it up and handed it to him. “My other brother just wants me to get this stuff for him. I really don’t know what any of it means.”

Fezco stood up and shuffled over to her, taking the note. He nodded his head, looking up at her again. “Lemme get this stuff for ya, stay there.”

About five minutes later he came back out of the building, holding a plastic grocery bag in his hands. “Here ya go. Ya got da money for it?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Nancy handed it over to him and apologized.

“Nah, you good, kid,” he reassured.

They looked at each other for a moment, and Nancy could feel her heart racing in her chest from his eyes gazing straight into hers. She knew that he was very handsome, he held a soft look on his face at all times which complemented his baby blue eyes. Rue talked about him quite often, and from what Nancy had heard, he was a sweet guy. Drugs were just his way of surviving after dropping out of high school. She gave him a soft smile, blood rushing to her cheeks when he returned it.

“Thank you, for this,” she held up the bag. “You saved my ass.”

He snorted, “No problem. I’ll see ya around?”

“Yeah,” she smiled at him again, hopping on top of her bike and riding away.

[gamblingrecoverydani]

My addiction and relaspe

Every since I was old enough to gamble it took control of my life and dragged me down a extremely bad path in life and I make many many mistakes during the addiction period. My first ever scratch card was on my 16th birthday I went to the local coop and brought one and then every time I had cash I'd buy more. Winning gave me a buzz at such a young age. I didnt realise for a moment it would turn my life around and I would turn into a gambler with a gambling addiction, one who will never truly recover as something will always happen to set a relapse upon me no matter how hard I try. By the time I was 18th I was going into arcades with the over 18 bit and spending my money trying to win more and never really made profit (at this time I didn't know online gambling was a thing) I'd spend my last £5 on a couple scratch cards rather than going out drinking. At this point in life I was living in Skegness working at McDonald's and living my life hiding behind a gambling addiction but at the time I didn't think it was an addiction I was thought I liked a gamble. By 19 I was living in Lincolnshire with my own flat and pretty decent job within the council and literally enjoying life but still I had this problem. I got paid a decent amount of money which I blow. I didnt think of the consequences and feel behind in my rent. I was gambling hundreds and thousands. I'd sometimes win but it never felt like enough so I'd put it back in hoping to find the jackpot this never in my time of gambling did this ever happen. I went on the borrow money to gamble with, I got pay day loans and literally messed my whole credit rating up. Fast forward to 20 yrs old (I'd been in my flat for a year by this point and hadnt even decorated it was ridiculous all because I couldn't afford to do this as I gambled all my money) I then lost my job 6 months later and resulted in a mental breakdown and need to be signed off from future employment I never recovered from this until after my daughter was born 5 years later. I then met a nice guy called Jay, 6 months later and my gambling kind of went away and I new I wouldn't be able to visit him where he lived if I kept gambling and for about a year and half I kind just stopped like that. We then spilt up due to various reasons and it broke my heart into a thousand of pieces. I needed to relapse again so I got picked up and taken home to Lincolnshire and the moment I was home I sat on the sofa, got the laptop out and spend nearly £200 out of the £200 I had left to last me the month. I didnt withdraw anything I was lost. I was lost then cried as I had no gas and needed food shopping. I had failed. I then moved on from jay with someone called *Fred*, I always did some coke when I was with Jay felt right to fit in with the lads. Never felt like I should until that become another addiction. Then with Fred we ended we sniffing most days, most nights. It happened quickly with me and Fred. We spent a good 3 years getting out of heads, me still gambling without him really knowing. Now we aren't together I feel he was a rebound after Jay but that's another story. Me and fred decided to stop taking class a's and just smoke weed. Me still gambling when he truly new about my addiction he didn't really as me to stop. Then we had a child when I was 25 years old, I raised her pretty much single handedly even though we was together, he play the xbox and not spend time with us but I won't slag him of as thats not my story. I remember once well more than once where our money had gone, it had been gambled away and spent without a care in the world. Even when I won I'd say it was of a free bonus but deep down he new and never said anything for the easy life. He then gave me an choice to stop gambling ot basically lose him so that day 21 June 2019 I started gambling. I self excluded myself from online casinos and didn't step foot into a casino. Roll on to the 1st October 2021. I had my first ever proper relapse after stopped for 2 years and 3 months. I've spent hundreds already and it's only the 12th October. The

reason for this relapse is spiltting with my partner as long as I can remember I haven't felt love, appreciated, or anything really, I become numb to the pain. So I walked away. I'm not a single mum to a 5 year old and I'm taking each day as it come. Tomorrow 13th October 2021 I am stopping gambling again. Wish me luck in my journal Much love GamblingRecoveryDani

[halfusek]

Still Life (Batim Portal AU)

Chapter One – “An old man walks into an abandoned studio” sounds like a beginning of a bad joke. It is.

Summary: We here at Joey Drew Studios are very, very happy to inform you about a special upcoming event. What shall the event be? Now that’s a surprise, but we can promise plenty of old faces, reunions, party and some real entertainment. And cake!

First chapter: [you’re here]

Next chapter: [coming soon]

✪ ✪ ✪

The taxi driver kept looking at him in the rear view.

And not like looking looking. Not with a bored nor curious peeks every now and then, no, no.

Cautiously glaring. Interested but suspicious.

Weird. Sure, the destination was rather special but here’s the thing. A special destination in a small not-so-special town that’s been there for a very long time? Nothing special about that.

The animation studio surely used to wake some sensation thirty years back (alongside many complaints) but these days… it shouldn’t be anything more than a part of the local ecosystem. It even “grew out” a bit on the outskirts. Never integrated to the rest of the place, as if the streets tried to reach there before but, like roots hitting a stone, changed their directions to literally anywhere else.

To be fair, he too did hit that rock.

Being outside of the cab, Henry Stein took a deep breath of fresh air. Don’t get it wrong, the location was nice. All this nature around.

Still. Anywhere else.

He was glad to have gotten out. The atmosphere started to lay heavily on his shoulders. Even the lack of usual small-talk was off-putting and he wasn’t the most talkative person!

Something clicked and his attention snapped back to the vehicle he just exited. It was the trunk. Seems like the other man won’t be that kind to help him with the suitcase. Not that he would ever demand such a thing but maybe he’s gotten a bit used to it. Especially nowadays, with so many years on his back.

Besides, he knew it wasn’t an act of unkindness.

The driver didn’t want to get out, Henry figured while paying him through the window.

Huh.

“I’m sorry, am I misunderstanding something or did the price for the ride go up compared to what it was before?” he furrowed his eyebrows. It’s been years but he remembered the road from the town’s center to here well. Oh, very well, “It’s as if… the price has doubled?”

The driver had an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He was moving it around with his mouth. Probably wanted to lit it for a while now.

“No, the price’s the same. I already counted for your way back.”

“Ah,” Henry smiled politely, “But you see, I don’t know when I’ll need to get back, so-“

“When I finish my Pall Mall, that’s when,” there was a slight impatient growl behind his voice, “Look, pal, I don’t know what you’re expecting to find there, but this gold ore has been mined to death. You are going to kiss that beautiful door handle goodbye and wait for me to finish my smoke.”

Old animator stared at him, flabbergasted.

Then he stood straight with the polite smile back on his face.

“And I thought I couldn’t believe I’m really going to be back there. Still, I do have a very believable invitation and therefore my request to pay for just one ride stands.”

Loud sigh, shuffle of papers, flicker of a lighter, and Henry, followed by the sound of his suitcase’s wheels, was on his way to the building.

Meanwhile, the man in the cab kept followed him with his eyes, turning away only to let the smoke out of his car.

Had it not been the money, he would have already left the place. But gas had its costs and he didn’t want to waste it on turning around when this crazy old man finally realizes there’s nothing grand there waiting for him and calls for a ride back. Calls him that is, as he was the only ride around here.

Knocking ashes from his cigarette, he looked around. It really was a wild place. Abandoned. The town hall wasn’t even bothering to keep the road in a good condition. It was getting a bit bumpy but not like anyone would care anyway.

Then his gaze went back to the traveler, or more precisely, it landed on the parking lot that the said traveler was walking across.

There weren’t any cars save for rusty few parked close to the entry to the workshop.

Weeds managed to crack through the concrete in many places. No one wiped off the leaves.

In years.

He turned the engine back on.

✪ ✪ ✪

Maybe it was because he was even older, but the old man didn’t seem bothered by those sights. To Henry, what mattered was how different the building looked like in the terms of its size. Just look at that thing! More floors, wings on both sides, surely there were some additions on the other side too.

His hand was on the handle. He took a deep breath.

Not out of fear nor worry.

Excitement. He was back.

Slightly chapped lips formed a big grin.

The driver’s jaw dropped and his cigarette quickly followed through.

✪ ✪ ✪

The door opened.

✪ ✪ ✪

Had Henry turned back, he would notice the terrified expression on the other man’s face. Maybe it would have changed something.

Who knows.

But in this story, Henry has entered Joey Drew Studios once again.

✪ ✪ ✪

What is he seeing? The actual surroundings? All the memories playing in his head that happened around them? Both past and present trying to fit in together in his sight?

What is he feeling? Is it nostalgia? Is it happiness? Is it anxiety? Some kind of blend?

Oh… so familiar and yet so different. He found himself looking with shiny eyes at every little detail he remembered, no matter if it was as important as the logo with wheels still turning around the exact same way they used to when he helped to install them, or if it was as mundane as skirting-boards. And then, such a weird thing, how intimidating the different things were. Again, simple changes, like the new chairs, or something popping the eye right away, like the prizes, the decorations, the reception, the-

And just like that the balance pan favored the side of what’s been making him uneasy.

No one was present at the reception.

Actually, there was nobody at all.

Henry wrinkled his nose and adjusted his glasses, turning around.

Surely someone had to be there. The electricity was on. The wheels were turning. The lights were on.

And the door wasn’t locked.

And the letter-

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper that looked… a bit less neat now that it spent a few hours under his butt.

But what it said remained just as clear.

DEAR MISTER STEIN,

WE HERE AT JOEY DREW STUDIOS ARE VERY, VERY HAPPY TO INFORM YOU ABOUT A SPECIAL UPCOMING EVENT. WHAT SHALL THE EVENT BE? NOW THAT’S A SURPRISE, BUT WE CAN PROMISE PLENTY OF OLD FACES, REUNIONS, PARTY AND SOME REAL ENTERTAINMENT. AND CAKE!

WE HAVE SOMETHING THAT THE WORLD OF ANIMATION REALLY NEEDS TO SEE AND WE WANT YOU TO BE A PART OF IT. BUT FIRST, WE NEED TO SHOW IT TO YOU. THE VETERANS! THE PIONEERS! THE ANIMATORS THAT BROUGHT TO LIFE THINGS WHICH STAGGERED THE IMAGINATION OF MILLIONS! IN FACT WE HAVE A LOT WE NEED TO SHOW YOU. IT’S ALL IN HERE, AT THE OLD WORKSHOP.

WE WOULD BE THRILLED TO BE GRACED WITH YOUR PRESENCE. TREMENDOUS FUN AWAITS!

JOEY DREW STUDIOS

And then addresses and all that stuff. He didn’t make it up. The building looking as if it was working wasn’t made up. None of it was made up!

Then… where were the people that sent him this letter?

He left the suitcase behind the reception’s desk. Just now he realized that he really was (was he?) alone – while he was rereading the invitation, the taxi driver finally took his leave.

Right. The taxi driver. His words. His… behavior…

Henry shook his head. No. Come on. You can’t make this up.

The old man took a few courageous steps towards the corridor. Again, full of new wonders just as of the old grind.

He stopped. There were words written at the end of the hall. In large letters.

In ink.

Blue eyes squinted to read them from this distance.

Oh, it was a banner.

Oh-

He beamed.

Suddenly his steps became a lot more energetic.

At the end of the banner’s message there was an arrow pointing to the right. He followed it.

It read: Surprise this way.

Of course. Ominous but, goddamnit, that was it. It had this energy.

His energy.

He hurried through the next corridor. There were balloons on the sides. Arrows pointing at a door at the very end.

What people are going to be there too? Oh, he would love to see Norman again. Or Sammy, or Wally- actually, why has he not seen them all this time?

Another door handle. He opened them without a care in the world.

And there was no world behind those doors. Or, maybe, a completely new one.

As in – it was really dark in here.

To be honest, now, that he stood there, seemingly all alone, in front of pitch black darkness, he wasn’t feeling so brave no more.

Nonetheless, he took that step forward. He searched for switch.

And there was the light.

Not from the bulb.

There were candles around a circular symbol that he seemed to have stepped into-

All balloons popped. The noise altogether was like a loud crack.

And then it was dark again.

✪ ✪ ✪

His alarm was going off.

Henry groaned as he turned under the sheets. He felt really tired. Why was an alarm set anyway? He wasn’t getting anywhere, must have set that by accident.

His arm lazily reached out of the bed in search for that devilish device. Where is it, where is it…

It was hard to reach with his suit limiting his moves and his glasses knocked askew because of the pressure between his head and the pillow.

Wait-

He fell asleep in his glasses? And clothes?

His hand didn’t reach anything. There was a worrying sense of… nothing.

When you sleep at the same house for years and years without moving the furniture around too much, you get used to things being in their place.

And they weren’t.

Blue eyes snapped right open.

What he saw was a wide room with multiple beds. Each had a cabinet on the side and there were a few shelves with products that looked like medicine, screens, speakers.

There was a camera high up.

Oh, shit. He was at a hospital.

Wait, no.

He slowly got up, massaging one temple with his hand.

No, no, no.

This layout…

He sat on the bed.

…he was still in the studio.

Or rather… he was at the studio. He actually was there. Could have been a dream.

But no.

Finally, his attention went back to the sound of the alarm. It was coming out of a device that resembled a radio more than a clock. He took it into his hands and turned off. Strange technology but wasn’t too hard.

As he was putting it back, the speakers screeched, almost causing him to drop the darn thing.

Then he froze.

“Hello! Joey Drew here! Welcome to the Joey Drew Studios Infirmary! I hope your brief detention there was a pleasant one…”

No. No way.

“If you’re hearing this message, that means all the damage you may have been experienced has been noted/taken care of, and that we can continue on with the work. There’s sure a lot of it to do!”

Henry frantically looked around the room.

Was it some sort of a cruel joke?

“However, before we get back to it, please, keep in mind, that although fun, those activities are your work, alright? And here, at Joey Drew Studios, we work hard. But happy, so to keep that spirit up do follow the guidelines and refrain from-“

The old man jumped in bed as the voice became incomprehensible.

“As always, thank you for participating. You are contributing to this wonderful bosom of creation we call art. Remember, dreams do come true! Now, let’s bring this thing to life!”

Minutes passed as Henry sat in silence after the end of what he realized was a prerecorded message.

He didn’t know what kind of person would make him listen to it but it had to be prerecorded.

Joey died fifteen years ago.

[silverlysilence]

Destinations Better Left Forgotten

Okay, this was an AU I’ve had rattling around in the back of my mind for some time now and I finally decided to just get it down.  Please tell me what you think because this is something I might come back to.  There is a lot of potential for further world building and it’s different enough from both fandoms that it is unique.

Jack gazed through the thick-doubled plated glass window of his compartment, not seeing the scenery at all. The white stone walls and gleaming stained-glass windows had long since passed, giving way to lush green fields full of crops and dotted with large majestic trees that towered over the lands. The tracks even went through the pastures where a heard of wild horses ran alongside train and keen eyes caught sight of a small regal foal in the mix, the white of her main only outdone by the glimmering purity of her golden horn.  

But as the day wore on and night creep closer, the lands they crossed faded.  The colorful wildflowers gave way to weeds and the greenery washed away to wilting yellows and then barren browns.  The chirping of songbirds turned to screeches of scavengers and more than a few red eyes gave the steam engine a second look.  However, with the wards freshly renewed, even the foolhardiest of monsters thought twice at the power emanating from the train.

Many of the passengers had rushed to the side and stare out the windows in awe as they passed by a gaggle of giants who’d rethought their plan to ambush the train and instead chose to turn tail.  It was the closest most of the people had ever gotten to a monster without fearing for their lives. Jack, for his part, had enjoyed listening to the children chatter on in excitement, unaware of the very real danger they could have been in if the fraying wards hadn’t been updated hours prior.

Regardless of how the luxury train’s amenities were and the attentive catering of their staff, they were far from the safest travel as they’d advertised.  Something the conductor was well aware of and despite his many pleas to the higherups for funds to update the wards and various safety enchantments throughout the compartments, they’d spent the money on charms that made the gas lamps burn different colors and expanding spells to increase the room sizes of their VIP compartments, one of which Jack was upgraded to.

The conductor had taken only look at his fine silk robes, embroidered with the finest silver thread and adorned with sapphires and had pulled him aside.  His economy seating was given away to a grateful woman and her granddaughter in favor of the luxurious sleeper cabin, all in exchange for a renewing the wards.  

Jack would have done it for free, he intended to when he took one look at the despicable deteriorating state of the ward the luxury line boasted as the best protection money could offer and knowing where they were headed, he didn’t want to put the lives of the people on board at risk.  Any other time, he would have reported the infraction to the magistrate and charged the company an exorbitant price for the services.  However, the Crown had already paid his guild an exorbitant fee in advance for their services and booked the first available train out for them. Going so far as to pay an extra fee to get the job done quickly and with such a hefty sum, he could not be the cause of any type of delay.

He’d already tried getting out of this particular assignment, but he was the only one available on such short notice.  Not only that, but Manny, the current Master of the Guild, had assigned him the mission. Jack couldn’t say no to him. Not after the man had taken a chance on a no named peasant and brought him into the folds of one of the most revered guilds in the lands that people had killed for just to get a chance at an opportunity to join.

Maybe, if he had been a little bit more open and honest with the master, Manny would have found someone else.  But Jack had never told a soul of his past, not even when it meant the difference between becoming a part of the guild or not.  He had held firm when Guardian North had questioned him and it was his resolve not to give in despite the alternative that gained him permeant membership in the guild.

If Master Manny or any of the head Guardians knew they were sending him back to the very place which gave him the nightmares that terrorized him most nights, they would never forgive themselves.

Burgess.  A hardy settlement that had managed to survive for decades in spite of being near the Dark Forest.  The people there were strong-willed—they had to be living where they did—and very superstitious.  There were those there that had kind hearts, but the kindness usually bled out of them—sometimes literally—over the years.

As a child, Jack saw the place as home.  Life was hard, but he and his family made due.  His sister and he had been out foraging through the nearby woods with his father, a supposed safe zone when a monster attacked. It clung to the shadows but razor-sharp teeth and claws tore viciously into flesh.  His father had held it off, screaming for Jackson to take his sister and run which he did.  Never looking back.

However, they’d fled across the frozen pond and while the ice was thick enough to hold their weight, it splintered underneath the weight of the large creature came after them. Jack didn’t know what happen, one moment he was pushing his sister forward, the next he was cold—cold—cold and water filling his lungs.  He vaguely recalled seeing icy blue eyes as he sunk further into the water then nothing.

He awoke on the side of the bank, frozen to the core and shivering and yet, alive.  The pond was destroyed, spears of jagged ice splintering up and outwards as if something exploded from beneath before freezing solid an instant later.  There were black fragments of what looked to be sand from a distance—Jack had not attempted a closer look in fear of what he might find the sand to actual be—encased in the ice and blood.

Jack had taken a good long look at the ice before pulling himself to his feet and making the journey back to the settlement.  Shivering all the way from the cold and the fear that his home had become a desolate battlefield in his absence. He should have been more worried for himself because as soon as he stepped foot in what would be his former home, all eyes turned on him and the whispers started.

He had stood there, not knowing what to do until his mother and sister made their way to the front of the gathered crowd.  Flee had made to run for him but his mother had held her back, horror on her face.  For when Jackson had left the settlement that morning with his father and sister, his hair and eyes had been that of earthly tones, but now standing before them was a boy as pale as the night, hair white like the moon and eyes of glaciers.

Jack didn’t know how he survived the next three months in the settlement.  Whispers followed him everywhere, his mother exiled him from the house but completely from the property in fear.  Instead, he lived out in his father’s tiny storage shed and feed scraps.  Though, to be fair, there wasn’t that much food to be had as the Dark Forest creatures grew ever bolder, creeping closer than they’d ever come before to the settlement.

The whispers became louder and fear gripped the people.  It was only when the whispers stopped when he strolled through town that the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise.  Something was coming.  Something big and he shouldn’t have been taken by surprised as he’d been when the lynch mob had come for him.

The people of Burgess were superstitious after all, and he’d come back from a watery grave with the hues of winter right as the monsters became more brazen.  It was not hard to figure out what their intentions were when he saw the rope and chains.  Jackson had fought tooth and nail, but he was a mere boy and they were many.

Tears had stained his faces, mixing with blood as they bond him with chains and rope to a stake near the edge of the Dark Forest.  His sobs muffled by the filthy gag that had been brutishly tied, pulling out more than several strands of hair.  Not a single one looked back as they left him there.  

A blood sacrifice to appease the monster in hopes of leaving the rest of them alone.

Jackson hadn’t known how long he sat there, crying well into the moonless night but his eyes never left the forest’s edge, which was why he immediately noticed movement as the most dangerous of monsters crept forth.

That was the night Jackson Overland died.

“I see you haven’t moved for quite some time,” a rough voice drew glacier eyes away from the darkened horizons and towards the cabin’s opened door where a tall man casually leaned up against the frame as if he owned the place.  Unlike the delicate silks that draped across his body, the man before him wore thick dark leathers well-worn and scarred from use.  A trained eye such as his could easily identify the various inauspicious trinkets and gems as the weapons and arsenal they were.  If it wasn’t for the black markings partly hidden by auburn hair on his forehead he knew was there and the unnatural shade of vibrant green eyes, Jack might have thought he was just another hunter.  

“Lord Haddock,” Jack nodded to the man as a pair of pretty ladies in their finest attire slow meandered down the corridor.  Their light giggles and hushed whispers a clear indication they were listening in and more likely than not had been following the lord for some time.  “Please do come in.”

The lord didn’t grace him with a response. Instead, he crossed the threshold with one large step and slid the door close, drawing the curtains closed for good measure before taking a seat. Vivid green eyes narrowed as they took in his paler than normal features and slightly trembling hands before darting over towards the small cart still laden with untouched food.

Jack saw the look and attempted to deflect.  “Hiccup—”

“You didn’t eat,” the lord shut him down before he could get any further.  Grabbing a cup, Hiccup poured the now room temperature cocoa and held the delicate china out to Jack.  After a moment, steam began to rise from the cup and the white-haired man finally relented, taking the now hot cup with both hands to prevent his trembling from spilling any of the exotic beverage and bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you.”

Hiccup didn’t say anything as he poured a second cup and stared the liquid down until it was boiling, only then did he drink.

“You need to eat, renewing the wards took a lot of energy,” the lord spoke once Jack finally finished his cocoa and his hands were no longer trembling.

“I wasn’t hungry, what with the giants still being as close as they are,” Jack shrugged, setting the cup aside.

“You don’t need to worry about them, they’ve been taken care of,” Hiccup grinned, revealing two sharp fangs. In an instant, the lord was across the cabin and in Jack’s space, a rough thumb trailing down the sharp lines of his cheek causing eyes blue eyes to flutter shut.  “After all, my pretty little gem, the prized piece of my hoard, is on this gods’ forsaken piece of garbage and I wouldn’t want any harm to come to him now. Even if he won’t allow me to rain fire down on the pathetic excuses for fleshbags that tossed aside such a precious treasure.”

“Hiccup, no.  They tried to sacrifice me once, but they won’t be able to again.”

“You’re right.  They can’t, after all, dragons only accept virgin sacrifice and you far from qualify anymore,” Hiccup smirked.

“And who’s fault is that?” Jack glared up into eager green eyes with no effect.  The red flush that spread from his face down his neck only made those vivid eyes darken as dark black plates appeared a crossed the lord’s cheeks. “Damn horny dragon.”

Hiccup sealed the distance between their lips, ravishing the white-haired man’s mouth and thoroughly exploring the moist cavern with his tongue, only pulling away when air became an issue. “Just for you, my pretty little gem, just for you.”

Not sure if i got this across correctly, but the world I envisioned is like a combination of D&D with its fantasy elements, RWBY with the dark creatures running about and the need for Guilds and hunters to keep the people protected, and Fullmetal Alchemist..

This also stems from the fact that dragons have hoards and Jackson is a precious gem that needs to be loved and draped with the finest of things because his dragon won’t see him in anything less than the best.  If his gem wants to learn magic from the best Guild out there, Hiccup will make it happen damnit, even if they don’t realize he’s one of the creatures they’re supposed to be hunting down.  But hey, it’s not his fault the fleshbags haven’t figured out dragons can do more than breath fire. 

[delbeugre]

Have you seen SADIE BEUGRE? DEL is in HER/THEIR SENIOR year. The MATHEMATICS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE/THEY are GRITTY, BEWITCHING, RETICENT and WASPISH. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE BIT AN EX-BOYFRIEND’S PINKY FINGER OFF AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE CHEATED, AND THEN HAPPILY SERVED TIME FOR IT.

im tommy im a freak and of course i am here to get freakalicious with u all... this is my newest frankenstein type creation named sadie i know .02% about her yet but i am more than confident she will b nothing but a fun time! like this if ur down to plot!

TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF JAIL/PROSECUTION, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DRUG USE

BACKSTORY

capricorn sun / virgo moon / scorpio rising

raised by her uncle Big (his name) who is a hermit shut in town local in the depths of the florida marshland like some goosebumps protagonist. hes gone far past socially acceptable in terms of his ability to connect with the modern person but is wise beyond belief... his whole vibe is a warped cross between a cryptid and a mountain man that forages and cooks neighborhood plants. married for 27 years before his wife passed from illness. its quite possibly the only thing hes ever been emotional about

but dels entry to his life throws a wrench in his sadness (despite abandonment being what they bond over). she takes the focus away from his loss with her presence; her dad, his brother, died in a tragic train-car collision around the same time (which is speculated to be a suicide bt nobody can ever really be sure). he was a single parent so her custody is thrown up in the air for a few months as cps decides what they r gna do with this freshly orphaned little scrapper

she just kinda turns up on his doorstep n from there they cohabit a space. shes arnd 6-7 at this time... big never seemed to b phased by the fact tht she was a child n tended to treat her more like an apprentice or guest. he was never close to her father because of their age difference, being the older out of the two, so to have his daughter become his responsibility is just..... weird

this doesnt mean that he wouldnt provide for her bt it was. not very parental whatsoever.... no conversation or interaction beyond what was necessary. she was a mute fr a while and still is? to a degree.... very short spoken

when she got to her preteens he offered her an allowance in exchange for little odds and ends of stuff to be taken care of around the house. errands n all tht.... sometimes he wld purposefully leave things for her to pick up n take care of without mentioning it for a bonus. taught her the importance of saving your money and the horrid corruptness of a society basing everythings worth off paper. big exposed her to a lot of knowledge and took advantage of her silent curiosity by fueling it with books, homeschooling, life skills (catching a fish, setting a trap, knowing your berries in the woods...... the works)

her teens carried out the same way bt with the introduction of a real job, a spot down at the local butcher shop checking people out at the register and helping around the back of house. del knows a great deal abt cow/pig/chicken/etc anatomy from her years here..... she committed to being 100% vegan into her early twenties because of her trauma frm this occupation

it paid very well tho n was the best gig she was going to get within a reasonable biking route from home. so she settled!

the plan wasnt to keep it up for long anyway. she worked rly hard for her spot at yates and didnt intend to ever screw herself over. her plan was to get her bachelors, masters, become a professor, pursue a personal hobby of agriculture and build an elaborate greenhouse to live in

bt things happen..... 

some 35yr old douche with a green thumb woos her at a gardening store n swoops in to teach her a little more abt romance; all of this, of course, under the guise that he had all these tips and tricks for living environmentally friendly. a lame hippie wannabe that shouldve never even approached her bt alas.... he did

love is a touchy subject n it hadnt been something she set her sights on, but she was interested in wht this dude could teach her n at 19 she ended up falling in love. she delayed her education to stay an extra year back home and work out another plan which included him

this was very disappointing to her uncle bt he didnt have anything to say abt it. it was never parental before n it was never going to be, so this was another lesson she wld just have to overcome on her own

it turns out that she doesnt care for infidelity. when the confession comes out its met with a lot of screaming, bawling, blistering white hot anger. the whole incident is blacked out of her mind to b honest....

matters of the heart are no longer something to concern herself with because of the repercussions of her rash behavior regarding heartbreak O________O she spent a year in jail n still has to attend therapy / anger management meetings

deep down she is still hurting. there was a lot of pain... bt the sadness is not over the loss of some noob. she is in a state of constant disappointment, detaching from herself out of shame. putting her own life on pause only for it to turn out like that? stupid stupid stupid... 

PERSONALITY

chugging along! tldr spectre-like swamp nymph aura with the slightest (not so slight) unhinged feral tendencies

delicate like a moth resting in the gleam of a flashlight.... her anger singes her wings when shes too comfortable staying in one place, so theres always constant stimulation, always shifting gears. shes prone to feeling threatened; that being said, sadie is wary of walking in crowds, a little bit skittish when approached without making eye contact beforehand. like a small grey kitten..... in a big wide world

has a hard time keeping a conversation bt is very interested in debate, and even more so in studying alongside someone in complete silence. it reminds her of home in the same sense tht her uncle wld nudge her to keep reading by always having his own book open

doesnt have many friends and is alright with that. rumors are tht she is still a virgin bt who really knows? not i...... bt i wldnt be surprised if this was true. shes not impressed by people nor material items so this whole yates crowd is a turn off

she is truly clueless when it comes to how to behave around anyone her age. i think she understands but it just doesnt compute. she could come off as impolite bt it is just standoffishness? some people cld try to crack her but i dont think even she knows what that would be, or what that would look like. even in her one (1) failed relationship it was never deep heart to hearts or sharing dinner..... solitude is her realm

del is very comfortable with herself, very open with her wardrobe! doesnt leave too much to the imagination? she appreciates the human experience n expresses that thru this whole “body is a temple” type thing.... not quite confidence, but proudness of being. has gotten multiple notices frm professors for her tops being too sheer, nylons too ratted up, etc. has dirt under her fingernails half the time, chipped polish, some chapstick. smudges her eyeshadow on with her fingers

doesnt smoke cigarettes all too often but is dependent on weed. it kinda perpetuates her paranoid demeanor bt at the same time it keeps her lax enough to be able to mentally handle city life

her room is a playground for huge monstera plants, christmas cacti, ivy creeping along the doorway. she sleeps on a tiny thin mattress on the floor with a linen sheet and has her books stacked up on the ground next to it to hold her ashtray. the whole thing is dumb empty

takes her studies seriously and pinches every penny she can..... she has never ordered herself a coffee frm somewhere before, ordered food frm a restaurant... nothing. i wld think the most she would branch out from harvesting everything on her own is buying a bag of sunflower seeds frm a gas station, but even then, she much prefers eating stuff she grows herself. has a tomato plant, some basil beginning to sprout, etc.... manageable crops for any college students tiny space

...

bt yea thats it thats all! connections cld be all over the place. im legit open to anything. theres only a few tht come to mind right off that bat: 

a few people that get along with her? same classes? they shared a bowl n now theyre getting into the nitty gritty of some personal conversation that is veering into no mans land....

some sort of clueless makeover moment? arent rly into sadie as a person bt see a lot of potential... perhaps need a plus one to a party on the fly and figure thats the best option theyve got

crushes? this wld be fun n potentially dangerous! like playing with a hot cast iron pan or something :)

again im vry new to rp so i wld like to leave a lot of stuff up to chemistry, brainstorming n stuff like that, but please consider everything on the table! what i hav mentioned is the tip of the iceberg im so burnt out n i wrote a lot more than i intended to i am so sorry but i promise i am friendly