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mm-lurking · 11 months ago

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Why do you care? - Blade

Perhaps you should have thought twice before deciding to take on a powerful enemy at night or perhaps you shouldn’t have, if it means you get a certain someone to care about you.

I wrote this at 11 pm sleep deprived and out of my mind for like many nights straight please forgive me in advance for the grammar etc English is like my 4th language thank you WC: 3440 words Warnings: none just angst, fluff, some description of blood and wounds and me being a simp —

Your blade clashes with the Antimatter Legion creature’s weapon continuously leaving no room for you to think or even plan an escape. With each strike you find yourself feeling weaker and wobbly, as if the enemy were quite literally taking your strength away. The large wound on your back stings and burns and you can feel blood dripping down your ripped shirt, soaking into your pants and splattering on the floor. If it weren’t for the stupid enemy ambushing you and leaving you with a slash on your back, you would have already beaten the crap out of it and gone home for a good night’s sleep.

But no, here you were struggling even to cause reasonable damage that allowed you to deliver the final blow or at least escape. Your movements were getting more fast-paced and aggressive out of frustration which caught the enemy off guard. When will this end?!? With one last ounce of energy you had left in you, you gritted your teeth and struck the creature in the chest, delivering a reasonable blow and causing it to retreat.

“Ha…huff…”

The adrenaline from the fight started to wear out and it didn’t take long before you fell on your hands and knees, clutching your shirt and trying to breathe. You did not have the energy to sit upright, let alone walk back to your residence. Unfortunately for you, the loss of blood caught on quickly. Before you could even formulate a plan your body gave way and you went crashing on the stone pavement head first, with the wound on your back feeling more uncomfortable as the cold winds of the night caressed your back. That’s all you remembered before everything turned black.

- How tardy, Blade tsked as he leaned against the front wall of your residence, waiting impatiently by the door. He had checked the time thrice already in the past ten minutes. As requested by Kafka, you were supposed to meet him at your residence to discuss some business. Why the hell did Kafka choose me for this? he thought to himself, what a waste of my time to associate with someone like her. Yet, despite his annoyance he still waited and waited until his frustration got the better of him.

Glaring at your front door, he walked off. He would let Kafka know later that you weren’t there for whatever reason and ask her to stop sending him to you every time. For some reason no matter how many times he told Kafka he didn’t want to see you, she would still find a way to send him to you. Was it because of some sort of mutual agreement between you and Kafka? Who knows. He didn’t care and nor did he want to. He just wanted to be left alone.

The path he took back home required him to cross the very street you were unconscious on. Of course, he didn’t know that. Blade was walking at his usual pace when he spotted a figure in the distance in the middle of the street, one that looked awfully similar to yours. He tsked again and shook his head. I must be seeing things. Yet as he continued walking, this lingering feeling he had about you continued to pester him and fully manifested when he approached the figure and realised-

“…!”

-it was you. His eyes widened momentarily and his breath hitched as he examined your state, trying to make sense of what had happened to you. There was blood everywhere around you; pools of it that were semi-dried and half-fresh. Your hair was all over the place with most of it soaked in blood from your injuries. And that gash on your back; the way your flesh was practically visible all the way down to the innermost layers of your muscle, the bruises that had started to form around your wound, the scratches and marks on your hands and arms, all of it, every single inch of your injury caused unfamiliar emotions to stir in his heart. It made his blood boil stronger and stronger. In a split second, he knelt by your side, uncaring how your blood soaked into his pants or how he was dirtying his clothes from the pavement dirt.

He gently flipped you over and the sight of your pale face made his heart drop for a moment. There was no sign of life on your face, you looked concerningly peaceful and your forehead had bruised from crashing into the pavement. If it weren't for more fresh blood gushing down his fingers from holding your back, he would have thought he lost you. Blade was no stranger to injuries and wounds. Blood and bruises were a normal day occurrence to him, they were his companion through this cursed immortal life of his. Yet, when it came to you, seeing you in such a state scared him, an emotion he seldom felt. He didn’t care if he was the one to get hurt but if it was you, he couldn’t stand it. He wouldn’t stand it.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he carefully put his arms behind your knees and neck to avoid touching your back before picking you up and walking hastily to the hideout the Stelleron hunters were residing in. Was he a wanted criminal? Yes, but he didn’t care. All that mattered right now was you and your well-being. The door opened with a loud bang and he walked in holding your limp body, his eyes searching everywhere to find a suitable location to tend to your injuries.

“Bladie there you are. How was-”

Kafka stopped talking mid-speech as she noticed Blade and the distressed condition he was in. She stared at the familiar body he was holding and remained speechless before running off to get medical supplies they had lying around for Blade’s mara-struck symptoms. He quickly laid you on your side in his lap and proceeded to build a makeshift bed using blankets and pillows so he could finally tend to your injuries. Kafka returned with supplies in her hands, still confused and flabbergasted at what had occurred and why Blade cared in the first place.

“What happened to her?”

“...”

He said nothing and immediately started to perform first-aid, first gently pushing the torn shirt off your back and brushing your hair aside. Despite his hands being gloved and bandaged, he felt tingles in his fingers as he grazed your skin. Destruction was what he was skilled at yet the way he handled you was gentle and soft, afraid that he would hurt you, as if you were made out of porcelain. He worked skillfully and swiftly on your gash, cleaning and stitching it all up to the best of his abilities before turning to the smaller injuries you had on your arms. By the time he was done with just your back, the moon shone at the highest point of the sky, indicating how long it had taken for him.

But he didn’t care as he looked out the window and then back at you. The moonlight basked your figure in a gentle glow and he found his heart oddly skipping a beat as he stared. Your weak breathing was enough to console him, enough to let him know you were at least alive. Subconsciously he found himself reaching out to caress your cheek, softly tracing over your skin as he watched you for a moment. What was it about you that he couldn’t get enough of? Why was he so persistent in pushing you away while simultaneously wanting your company? Why did he-

“I will call one of her friends over tomorrow to take her to the nearest infirmary.”

Kafka voiced out breaking his line of thoughts. He quickly retracted his fingers and cleared his throat as he worked on your forehead bruise. The woman chuckled and shook her head, smiling slightly. Was this all part of Elio’s plan? Who knows.

“She should be awake in the morning.”

He stated calmly but the burning gaze in his eyes betrayed him. Judging by the severity of your wounds, he wasn’t even sure if you would make it out the night. Kafka said nothing and silence fell once again.

“You should rest Bladie.”

“No need.”

“I can look after her.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The woman smiled once again and shook her head.

“Alright if you say so. If you need me I will be in the other room. Silverwolf has brought back some interesting information for me to sift through.”

She waved her hand around and left the room leaving Blade alone with you. As he finished putting the last bandage on you, he pulled you closer on his lap, gently placing an arm on your waist to keep you from slipping before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

The image of you lying in your own blood flashed through his head again and his eyebrows furrowed. What if he had never come to save you? What if he had left through some other street and never saw you? The idea of him not seeing you alive again tomorrow, the idea of you no longer coming to meet with Kafka, the idea of you no longer looking in his direction…all of it caused a pang in his heart. It was a strange sensation that he didn’t understand and a feeling he couldn’t quite fathom. The grip on your waist tightened as opened his eyes to look at you. You looked so peaceful and content, almost like you hadn’t been gravely injured at all, like you hadn’t nearly bled to death.

As much as he wanted to remain in this position and watch over you, he had to get medicine for your injuries. He reluctantly placed you on the makeshift bed and placed pillows around to prop you up before getting up to go find some.

—

A wave of sharp pain surges through your body prompting your consciousness to start awakening. The pain combined with your tired body creates an uncomfortable feeling in you and with each ripple of pain, you find yourself awakening slowly but surely, like a diver trying to reach the water’s surface to break out.

“Hngh…”

A groan slips out from your mouth as you slowly open your eyes. As you adjust to your surroundings in confusion, the pain of your back wound comes back in full effect causing you to cry out loud. It burns, stings and aches all at once and the threshold is way beyond your bearable pain level. You try to move around but no position eases your suffering and so ultimately you try to sit upright, struggling as tears run down your face. Footsteps quickly approach you and before you can wrap your head around who it is, the figure hurriedly sits down with a bottle in his hand, concern written all over his face as he tries to get you to lie down.

“Bl-blade?”

You say through your tears, choking as you struggle to breathe. You refuse to lay down and uncomfortably shuffle around trying to even get an ounce of relief. Your mind is blurry and confused as you attempt to recall what had happened and what is currently going on.

“You’re hurt.”

He watches as you stare at him through the tears in your eyes and something about that causes those unfamiliar emotions from earlier to stir in his heart again. You shake your head groaning and seething in pain as you attempt to talk.

“Why are you- what-“

“Drink.”

He doesn’t give you an answer and instead supports your neck with one hand as he brings the bottle closer to your face with his other one. You scrunch your face and move away which causes him to frown.

“Foolish. You’re injured. Drink it unless you want to continue withering in pain.”

His voice is sharp and low which causes you to flinch and agree to his request. He brings the bottle up to your lips and you look at him as you take sips. To his surprise, you don’t hesitate to drink down the bitter herbal medicine and finish it in one go. The concoction seems to take immediate effect and you sigh from having temporary relief.

You look back at the man who's holding you up. The tears on your cheeks have dried and you notice he’s still looking at you. There is no emotion on his face yet somehow you can tell he’s concerned and watching out for anything that might happen.

“Blade…why…why do you care?”

There is a small smile on your weary face as you speak. You’re delirious, he notes, seeing how your eyes keep shutting close and how your body seems unable to support itself up. He doesn’t reply to you as usual and stares at you silently.

“I know you hate me…you don’t even like being around me, I know you hate meeting me, if it weren’t for Kafka you wouldn’t even look in my direction…”

You close your eyes and look down as you feel the tears starting to form and run down your face again. At this rate you weren’t sure what was hurting more, the gash on your back or the pain in your heart. You were spilling everything that had been on your mind since the beginning of it all when you first started falling for him. On a normal day, you would never speak your thoughts out like this but nothing about today was normal, was it? What you don’t notice is the tiny frown that has formed on Blade’s face as you speak. You draw a shaky breath as you continue.

“Why did you save me…? You should have left me alone…at least that way you would never see me again and that would make you happy I know-“

“I suggest you shut it.”

You look up as he cuts you off. There is a strange expression on his face consisting of annoyance and anger. He grits his teeth as he holds himself back from saying more. But you being you, you shake your head and continue, the tears now splattering on the blankets lying on the floor as your emotions come out in full force.

“Where are we? Is Kafka here...? I can let her know that she no longer needs to send you to meet me…I’m sure she will understand-“

“I said shut it.”

His voice drops down an octave and you feel fear creep up your spine. Afraid, you drop your head again but you can guess that his crimson eyes are probably aflame right now based on your previous observations. Do you listen? No.

“You don’t have to do this…if Kafka is making you do this you can go now it’s ok-“

“Have you always been this insufferable?!”

The sharpness in his voice and the tightening grip on your neck make you flinch in fear. He quickly lets go when he realises he’s hurting you and exhales. You remain staring at the ground, afraid to look up at his face. Unfortunately, before you can reply to him, the gash on your back starts to hurt again and you tremble, frowning as the pain sharpens.

“What’s wrong?”

There is a hint of panic in his voice as you squirm. Your knuckles turn white from the way you hold onto the blanket and your arms feel weak. Everything turns hazy again and nausea kicks in. A dull throb starts to pound in your head causing a groan to slip from your mouth.

“Y/N.”

He calls your name out as he gently lifts your chin. His frown deepens seeing the pain all over your face. Beads of cold sweat form on the side of your forehead and he notices you’re struggling to breathe again.

“It hurts Blade…it hurts…”

You say softly as your eyes blur again. The endless tears you have shed today in front of him shatter his heart. With each tear that streams down your face, he finds himself in agony, wishing it was him that was hurting instead, wishing that the pain you were dealing with were his to bear. But no, there is nothing he can do except watch you wither from your wounds. He reaches out to cup your face, slowly wiping the tears away with one hand while the other supports your shoulder. You shiver a little from the contact nevertheless welcome it. His touch is unfamiliar yet so soothing on your bare skin.

“Did the medicine wear off?”

You slowly nod yes and he sighs. Your injuries are severe after all, no wonder the concoction didn’t last long. It is a miracle that you are still breathing and conscious after such an event. He looks behind you at the faint glimmers of moonlight. Judging by the dimming rays, it should be dawn soon, he notes.

“Bear it for a little longer, Kafka will have a friend of yours escort you to a nearby infirmary soon.”

To his surprise, you shake your head and lean into the palm of his hand. He freezes momentarily but doesn’t push you away.

“I..remain with me..a little longer..please..?”

Your voice is shaky and barely audible as you make your request. Your puffy eyes flutter close preventing you from seeing how his expression softens a bit and the small smile that forms on his face. He gently pushes you towards him, causing you to lean into his body. You don’t deny the silent invitation and rest your head in the crook of his neck, a tiny smile forming on your face as you inhale his sweet metallic scent. His heartbeat is irregular and louder than usual from how your breath tickles his neck but you are too lightheaded to notice. His hand now rests at the base of your head while the other one lies loosely on your waist, gently caressing you in an attempt to ease your pain. You still squirm and twitch every now and then but it does not bother him, for right now all he cares about making you feel as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t hate you.”

He mutters under his breath. You’re barely conscious so he can say whatever he wants right? Not that you will really remember any of this.

“Hate…is not a word I would use on you.”

He glances at you. Your back rises and falls slowly from your breathing. He takes a look at your injured back once again and clenches his jaw. The bandages he had wrapped around you were starting to become bloody again.

“You perplex me. Yet your outlandish behaviour is so amusing. I cannot stay away from you.”

The fingers around your waist tighten as his grip becomes more firm. You shudder a bit at his action but say nothing. Not that you are in your right mind anyway, everything he says feels like a fever dream, a faraway voice talking to you.

“I prefer having you around. Your company delights me.”

He continues on as he strokes the back of your neck and you hum in content. You fit so perfectly against the palm of his hands and the crook of his neck, almost as if you were meant to be his. Meant to be his companion.

“You asked why I care…I care because I want you around.”

He leans into your head making sure to avoid the bruise on your forehead. Your hair tickles his face and the faint scent of your shampoo pleasantly occupies his senses. You’ve managed to fall asleep now from the low rumbling of his voice and the warmth his body radiates. A quiet chuckle leaves his lips as he realises this and the unyielding grip he has on you doubles.

“If you were to get hurt again…”

He murmurs inaudibly as he gazes in the distance. No, he would never allow you to be hurt again. He wouldn’t let such an opportunity arise in the first place. And if some lowly fool even dared to lay their hands on you…they would be a dead man walking. Once you got better and your wounds healed completely, he would make sure to protect you from any harm to the best of his abilities. But for now…

He looks at you again, his eyes burning with concern and a tinge of malevolence. No one could take you away from him. When the time was right and he was certain, he would make you his. For now, you resting contently in his arms, breathing softly in the safety of his protection should suffice. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

#honkai star rail #blade x reader #hsr x reader #blade hsr #hsr blade #blade x you #blade honkai #blade angst #blade fluff #enemies to lovers #stellaron hunters #tsundere #yingxing #hsr angst #hsr #star rail #hsr fluff

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thenameswinterfics · 7 months ago

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VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying.

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way.

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago.

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky.

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars.

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories.

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go.

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach.

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her."

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature.

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away.

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened.

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again.

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..."

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past.

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?”

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them.

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd.

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question.

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long.

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over.

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight.

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for.

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust.

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him.

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern.

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you.

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do.

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters.

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead.

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him.

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements.

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.”

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes.

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it.

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile.

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words.

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in.

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks.

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence.

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning.

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands.

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him.

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding.

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness.

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her."

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours.

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..."

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.”

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact.

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before.

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was.

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave.

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers.

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim.

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you."

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors.

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts.

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt.

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch.

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #tlk fic

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cupidspup · 6 months ago

Note

I loved the ticci Toby fic you did! Would you mind doing one for slenderman or Jeff the killer?

Your wish is my command! >:3

CG! Slenderman x Little! Reader

As requested by @theoceantot !! :D

(Art is not mine and credit goes to the original artists!!)

A/N: I'm not sure if you wanted it to be a specific gender BUT I did think it would he cute if I had him with a little who's obsessed with having a fancy tea party with him! I'll try to keep it as gender neutral as possible with some feminine leaning things here and there :3 Also pls ignore any and all spelling/grammar mistakes I always write on my phone and I'm too lazy to check >_> I hope you enjoy! ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა -Cupid ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Summary: You've been waiting all day for your caregiver to make some time for your very important meeting! And finally today is the day he's set everything aside just for you! What shenanigans will ensue for today's play date?

C/W: Feminine nicknames, gender neutral nicknames, use of "sir" and "mister/mr." as nicknames for Slender (not all the time just most of it!!), the use of "papa" as a nickname, mentions of food, mentions/descriptions of slenderman and how his mouth works :]

You sit in your playroom, huffing as you watch the clock in the wall tick back and forth. Your papa said that today was the day you'd finally have some play time!! You've been excited for it all day and you've done everything you could to prepare for it!!

And by that you've prepared exactly what you wanted for today and how you wanted it. You're not high maintenance...just particular! And high maintenance or not, luckily Slender was more than equipped to handle anything from you.

Just before you were about to huff one more time, there's a gentle knock on the door. A loq voice speaks, it would he booming if it wasn't so gentle. Most would be trembling at the sound if such an intimidating voice, but not you no. To you, that's just the voice of your loving and doting caregiver!

"May I come in, dear?"

It says before entering. You sit up excitedly as you speak, "You may!"

The doorknob turns as the door opens. A tall faceless man stands in the doorway, his skin white as snow itself. The one and only Slenderman stands before you and he's here to have only the grandest of times with you.

He ducks as he walks through the door, closing it gently before turning to you. A gentle hand pats the top of your head, his face holds no expression but with his touch says it all.

"Very good job at using your manners, little one. Just like how I've taught you." His praise makes your chest tingle slightly with excitement. He bends down and scoops you unto his arms carefully, making sure not to mishandle you in any way.

"Were you waiting long, sweetness? I know I took longer than expected, however, there should not be any other interruptions now." He says as he rests you against his hip. You cling onto him a little tighter, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull yourself a little closer. You love your papa but heights will forever make you just a little scared.

You shoot your caregiver a glare. Giving him your poutiest lip and a little huff. To which he chuckles softly as he walks you to the bed.

"I will take that as a yes."

He sets you down before going to your closet filled with all your fanciest little clothes. He opens the doors and looks through the selection. Without looking to you he keeps talking, still looking through all of your dresses and accessories.

"Did you have a specific outfit in mind for today, my little love?"

"Nu uh. But I wanna do tea party, Mister!" You say in return. You kick your feet at the last bit of your sentence, wanting to emphasize how badly you'd like to have that tea party.

"A tea party? Hmmm. That means I need to dress you for the occaision now doesn't it?"

Long black tendrils sprout from his back, each one moving as if it had a mind of its own. They each grab a hold of different dresses and accessories and holding them up so that Slender can close the door.

"Please stand for me my dear, I need to see which outfit will suit you the most. Not to say you wouldn't look darling in all of them of course." He says as he makes his way to you, getting onto one knee.

Once he's down to your level you stand on the floor, arms to your side as you wait for him to pick. He puts multiple dresses in front of you some with ruffles and frills, others with ribbons and sleek cut. Slender loves dressing you up like a little doll. He finds it relaxing and it makes you feel so special knowing he's doing something and keeping you in mind. Finally, he settles on what he deems to be the perfect outfit.

A puffy pink dress with white frills and pink bows, some frilly white bloomers for you to wear under, lacy tights to keep you covered with some matching ruffled socks, some shiny black Mary Jane's, matching ruffled gloves and some clips for your hair. He lays all the necessary things out to keep himself organized while he gets you ready. While he knows you are perfectly capable for the most part of dressing yourself since you're regressed to an older age, he truly does enjoy doing these little things for you. And you would never stop him or tell him no.

Unless if you were in a bratty mood that is.

But today isn't one of those days. Today, you're dying to be fanned over and coddled the way he is doing so now. You love the gentle tone he uses when he asks you to do certain things while changing such as staying still when he buttons up your dress. Or when he sits you down for your socks and shoes and asks you to lift your feet for him to put them on.

One of your favorite parts of Slender getting you dressed is how he is always so gentle. Especially with all the nicknames he uses for you.

"Sweetness" "little love" "darling" "dear" "baby doll" or "dolly" Absolutely anything that will make you feel as pretty and wonderful as you truly are. To Slender, you are as fragile and precious as one of your many teacups from your many tea sets.

Once he has you dressed fully, your most favorite part comes. Slender doing your hair. Him doing your hair and putting it into cute hair styles is your most favorite part. The feeling of his fingers in your hair, the cautious and gentle way he handles you, the way that your hair always comes out exactly how you want it to be whenever he does it. You can't think of any way your caregiver could be better than how he is now.

He holds your gloved hand in his and leads you to your mirrored vanity. Lifting you into your chair and facing you towards your reflection. A little smile creeps onto your face as you look at how pretty you're looking already! Slender's tendrils come back into view, each of them holding a different item that he'll be using for your hair.

First, he spritzes it with some water and detangler. Just to dampen it a little and make easier to untangle any knots and tangles as he combs through it.

" My little one, would you like to practice counting your numbers while I comb your hair?"

You give him a nod and sit up, waiting for your hair to be brushed. If he had a face, he would smile. Instead he brings all your hair back, softly caressing your cheeks in between before gently running the brush through your hair. You count each stroke as he brushes through your hair. Slender always has the gentlest touch saved just for you. It makes you feel all the more special in these moments when he does it the most.

With one last stroke he stops brushing. His black tendrils taking the brush from his hands now. He presses the area where his mouth would reside and keeps it there for a second.

A makeshift kiss for the faceless man.

"You're an excellent counter, I'm so proud of you for learning to count your numbers so well."

You feel your face flush a little when he says this. You cower just a little from the shyness. He notices and rubs the top of your head lovingly before moving on.

With a few hair ties, Bobby pins and other hair accessories your hair is now properly ready for a tea party! It fascinates you how lovely Slender can make your hair look. It makes your chest flutter how doting and caring he can be when it's just you two.

"Let me get a good look at you, darling. I would love to see how fancy you're looking today."

To that you stand up and give him a little twirl, giggling as you do. You shine your bestest smile at him before running up to his less, giving him a big hug.

"Thankie Mister Papa Slendy!!" You say excitedly, smooshing your face into him. He chuckles and pats your head lovingly again.

"Awe, what a polite little thing. You're very welcome. Are we just about ready to start our tea party, little miss?"

You nod your head yes and hold onto his much larger hands, leading him to your pile of stuffies. "Mhmm mhmm!! I juss gotta get ma frens n we ready!!" You say as you start grabbing plushies and putting them into their own pile. Slender uses his tendrils and gentle picks up each of your "friends", making sure they're being treated with the best love and care.

"Little one, would you like me to set up your tea party and make the tea while you ready yourself?" He offers kindly as he sits all of your plushies down in their respective spots. You turn to him with a smile. "Yes peas, sir!"

He nods and walks out of the room, off to find one of his more floral patterned tea sets for you to use. While he's gone you get all of your stuffies ready for the tea party! Some having little hats, or bonnets or ties anything to make them extra fancy! You look at yourself in the mirror and you find that you wanna look extra EXTRA fancy for Slender when he gets back. You sit and think for a moment, your frisky dress poofing up as you do before an amazing idea hits you.

You sit at your vanity and open your dresser, all your makeup sitting perfectly there. Waiting for you to give them a try. You squeal excitedly as you pick out which things to use.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Just when you added your finishing touches to your very elegant and cute makeup look you hear a knock at the door.

"Princess, may I enter please?"

You squeal and kick your feet excitedly. "Yes papa slendy sir yous may!!" You say with a cheerful tone. Slender turns the knob and lets himself in. In his hands is a tray with all of your tea party needs, everything sorted nice and neatly. He sets everything onto the table and gives each of your friends their own respective tea cup.

"Papa papa!! Wanna see what I dids when you was gone?" You say excitedly as you tug on his pant leg. He turns to you curiously before looking at you and your makeup.

It's over the top and sparkly but perfectly tou, he chuckles and reaches for your hand bringing it up to his "face".

"You look absolutely precious, princess. A divine little doll you are."

He presses his face to your knuckles, another faceless kiss for you.a very gentlemanly one at that. You fidget shyly, playing with the hem of your skirt and muttering a soft thank you to him. He hoists you into his arms and walks to the table before sitting down. Sitting you down into his lap and letting you get comfortable before setting a tea cup in front of you.

You scoot into him and snuggle up, nuzzling into his chest. "May I serve you some tea, dolly of mine?" You nod and look up to him. "I help do it peas?" To which he nods, bringing the tea pot closer to you.

"Of course but be very careful, it is very hot and I would not want you to get burned."

He places your hands onto the tea pot, helping you pour some tea into the cup. He then picks up a small pitcher of cream and pours the smallest amount in.

"Would you like one lump or two, sweetness?"

You put up two fingers to him and he, of course, puts two sugar cubes in. With his tendrils he keeps the tea cup still as he stirs it all in. While he does that he hugs you close with his arms, reaching one hand to gently caress your cheek lovingly. Once he's done stirring the tea he brings the cup to your lips, holding the saucer right under (in the just too cool fancy way).

"Blow gently and take a small sip for me princess, tell me how it is."

You take a deep breath, blowing at the warm tea before taking a small sip. The warm liquid makes you feel just so cozy and comfy. The perfect amount of subtle sweetness. You sigh happily after and smile, relaxing further into him. He chuckles and you can feel the vibrations in his chest when he does.

"I take it that it was to your liking?"

He says and you node back happily in response. "Try it papa, is soooo good!" He nods "Very well, I'll try it." And brings it to his face. To most this would be an odd sight. How would he drink if he has no mouth? Well that's a very easy question.

He simply makes one! ^_^

This would be scary to a lot of people but with the amount of tea parties you have? It's just another ordinary thing to you. Slenderman's face starts to move and almost expand. As it gets longer you see a mouth start to form and almost looks like it's being torn open to do so. Slender doesn't make a sound he's simply doing it as if it was just a common thing. When really it sort of is with the two of you.

Once his mouth was fully open he takes a sip of the tea, looking down to you.

"This is a very nice cup of tea, darling. You helped me make it very nicely. Very well done." He says before offering you another sip.

For the rest of the time the two of you drink your tea. He of course pours some out to all of your friends making sure everyone has their fill and a snack to go with it. You both continue sharing your teacup, taking turns drinking sips from it. Slender even does his pink up when you ask him to. He adores his little doll, seeing how sweet you can be brings him so much joy. He loves you to pieces and would spend as many hours as you'd like having tea parties with you.

You're his little one after all

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚🐾₊˚ෆ🍼

BONUS:

After a other hour or so of you both talking and sharing tea you find that, this tea makes you very sleepy. Not just because of how warm and cozy is makes you feel. Maybe it's the way he's talking to you or maybe it's being in his arms. But it makes you feel so safe and comfy it makes you want to curl up and take a nap right there.

Abd who's to tell you not to?

So that's exactly what you do. While Slender is distracted doing other things, you yawn and start drifting to sleep. Slender is quick to notice this. And being the good papa he is he rubs your back softly, working your shoes off so you'll sleep easier.

"Maybe giving them chamomile tea was not a bad idea after all."

You murmur something in your sleep and burrow your head even deeper. He runs his fingers through your hair as he watches you rest.

"What precious little thing. All tuckered out from just a little tea party." He gives you one last kiss on your head, snuggling you closer as his tendrils reach for your blanket and drape it over you.

"Sleep well, little miss.🩷" He says.

#agere #age regression #age regressor #agere blog #agere community #sfw regression #age dreaming #sfw agere #agere caregiver #pet regression #agere textpost #agere fic #age regression fic #fandom agere #creepypasta agere #puppy posts!!

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malina-33 · 1 year ago

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Femme Like You - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.

Word count: 10,2k

Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap

A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!

And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?

In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔

*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)

The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.

Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.

Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"

You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:

You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"

Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"

Immediately followed by:

Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"

You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.

With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.

After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.

But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...

Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.

"Hello my dear! How are you?"

"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"

"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.

"He assured me the boys liked you"

"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.

"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.

"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"

"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.

"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.

"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.

"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"

"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.

"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"

"And I love you very much, hello mom"

"I'll pass it on, bye!"

You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.

You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".

But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted

"And how long do you look?"

"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.

You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.

"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".

Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.

You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.

As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.

"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"

"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.

Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.

You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.

"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"

"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.

"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.

"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.

"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"

Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.

"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.

"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.

Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.

Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.

When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of

Coax me out my law

And have a spin of my propeller

When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.

“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."

You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.

"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.

"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.

***

The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.

Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.

"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.

"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"

"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.

"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.

"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"

You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.

"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"

"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.

"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".

The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.

"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.

Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.

You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.

"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.

Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".

"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.

"I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"

"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.

"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.

"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.

You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.

The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.

"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.

"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.

Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.

"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.

"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.

"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.

"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.

De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.

The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.

"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.

"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.

Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.

"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.

Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.

"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"

"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"

"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.

He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.

"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.

The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.

"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.

"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.

An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.

"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.

Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.

"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.

The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.

"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"

You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.

"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.

"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.

"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.

"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"

You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.

"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"

"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"

"Who doesn't like her?"

"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.

"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.

There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.

"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.

"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"

"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"

The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.

"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.

"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"All right, man" Turner said artificially.

"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.

"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.

"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.

"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".

"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.

"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.

"They'll kill each other"

"He doesn't stand a chance"

Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.

Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.

Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.

"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.

The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.

Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.

"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"

"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.

"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.

"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"

You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.

"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"

"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"

The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.

His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.

“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"

You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.

You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.

Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.

"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.

You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.

Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.

Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.

You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.

***

You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.

All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.

You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.

And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.

It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.

"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.

He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"

The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.

"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"

You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.

"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"

Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.

“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"

"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.

"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.

"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.

"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.

"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...

And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".

As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.

The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.

Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.

Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.

Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.

A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.

"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.

"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Why are you naked?"

You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.

"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"

"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.

"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.

"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"

"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.

"I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.

"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.

It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.

After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.

To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.

***

The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.

Alex.

Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.

Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.

"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.

"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.

"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.

All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".

"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"

"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.

"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"

You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.

"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"

"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.

"Deal, Miss Y/S"

For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-

"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".

It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.

It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.

You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.

Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.

What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.

As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.

Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.

"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"

"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.

"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.

"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.

You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.

You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.

And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.

Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.

"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.

"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.

"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"

And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.

"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.

"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.

"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".

And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.

You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.

You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!

xo🤍

Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!

*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!

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attapullman · 5 months ago

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Let's talk writing, and how rewarding it can be to do it properly.

I've been thinking a lot, and several of my thoughts navigate back to this post - one of my favourites about fan fiction and why writing is so important.

This absolutely extends to writing style! It takes time to not only write the piece, but re-read/beta it, add punctuation, finesse plot, and double check your grammar! Every time I read through one of my own fics I find something new to tweak to capture the vision, which is part of the 'slow dopamine' the post refers to.

This proofreading process actually prolongs enjoyment of your fic! You get to sit in those scenes a bit longer, have fun figuring out if you should have dialogue that's more choppy or a paragraph with one line to be punchy. In the moment it feels great to just put words on the page and hit publish, but in the long run the more time you spend with a fic until publishing the more connected you'll feel to the story.

Plus then you get to think about the style of your writing!

Writing isn't just words - it's also the visual. How does it look on the page? Is the amount of dialogue you have what you envisioned? Do your scenes have enough description?

Once you've mastered the basics of a high school English class, then you can break the rules! Get creative, have fun, be a rebel in the margins!

Those slow dopamine hits peak now, because you're seeing your entire fic come together exactly as you envisioned - not in a typo-ridden text post that is just a keyboard smash of your brain rot. Now others can enjoy your story just as you enjoy it!

That quick dopamine hit is a one night stand: quick, rushed, and in the moment exactly what you need to itch that scratch. And you may regret it, especially when other's are free to judge it. But taking time to revise your story and really put your best into it? That's the lifelong relationship with a partner who knows you intrinsically and fulfills your needs.

Now you can add a header, pop a little synopsis, and put a 'read more' for good measure before sending into the world!

And if you're upset/scared because you don't know basic English skills and are using this 'quick hit' style to hide behind? READ! Find authors you love and learn from them. Ask others to beta for you and teach you the trade. There's also plenty of online programs like Grammarly that will proofread for punctuation, spelling, and grammar.

It's time for us to get our slow dopamine hits and create content we're not only proud of, but will spark a revolution of spending time on our writing!

You might also be shocked at how much more engagement you receive...😉

#writing #writing fan fiction #fan fiction writing #fan fiction author

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wjbs-bonkle-au · 16 days ago

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Metru Nui Archives data log 36012: The Head

Log author: Spiritual Researcher Vizuna

The Head, as it wishes to be called, is, well, a head. Specifically the head of a Class-02 Toa, or maybe Class-03? I'll have to ask Surgical Director Gogot after I've finished writing this, then I'll put it as an addendum.

The Head was... challenging to deal with. It litters its speech with profanity (which, for professionalism purposes, has been expunged from this data log), threatened the lives of both me and my colleagues (though these threats appeared to be empty based on its lack of any limbs or weapons), and claims to have once been one of the few Toa to ever come from Xia, though as my... interview with it (and subsequent research) indicates, it is mostly lying about this.

The following is an audio-to-text transcript of my attempt at inverviewing The Head:

Vizuna: Apologies for taking so long. I couldn't find my archival tablet, so I had to borrow the Chief Archivist's one. Now, how did you get into this state? The Head: Wanna find out, [EXPLETIVE DELETED]? Vizuna: I admire your attempts to threaten me, but they won't work. Answer the question, please. The Head: Ran into an... old friend, see. Tried to kill me, but couldn't finish the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] job, not for lack of trying... Vizuna: I see. What do you mean by that? The Head: Eh, it'd take too [EXPLETIVE DELETED] long to explain, and I'd have to repeat myself. Especially since you [EXPLETIVE DELETED] Le-Matoran don't even seem to remember what [EXPLETIVE DELETED] colours you're meant to have. Vizuna: Why y- [SLOW INHALE] I am not a Le-Matoran. I am a Bo-Matoran. You should know the difference; you are... were a Toa of Air. Right? The Head: What the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] are you talking about? How would you know that? Vizuna: Your eyes are... red, but now I look at them, they're not... they're not the same as... The Head: Yeahhhhhh, now you're starting to [EXPLETIVE DELETED] get it. Vizuna: ... This interview is over. I need to check something.

Now, those who don't know about Matoran mythology may not be aware of Shadow Toa; powerful, illusiory constructs that a Makuta can manifest, though very little is known of them, as they are rarely used.

The only source I have access to that describes a Shadow Toa is an ancient text, written in ancient Matoran, which contains the following passage that I have partially translated into modern Matoran, with any words that have multiple definitions having both listed: "Be Toa's eyes as the setting suns, moreso than capricious Le or [steadfast/durable] Fe, armour dark, then ally is Toa not; for is instead illusion from cruel Kra. Only ceases after confront truest [self/friend]."

Translating this fully into modern Matoran is difficult due to the ambiguity in the grammar and certain words having multiple definitions, but I gave it a try because why not: "If a Toa's eyes are bright red, moreso than the pinkish-red of a Toa of Air or the reddish-orange of a Toa of Iron, with dark armour, then they are not an ally; they are instead an illusion from cruel Shadow." The next section is a bit more ambiguous; it could mean "It immediately ceases to exist when it is confronted by its true self", or "It can only be killed by a close friend", or maybe some combination or rearrangement of those. Maybe something else. Who knows?

But what I want to note is that part about red eyes and dark armour. The Head has eyes that match that description perfectly, and while it lacks any armour or a mask, the metal it is made out of does look darker than usual, at least compared to what I've seen from the few Toa I have met, which makes me wonder if The Head is, in fact, a Toa of Shadow.

Before I move onto the next section, I also need to address something interesting that last line. Both interpretations point to Shadow Toa being based on existing Toa; "truest self" could refer to the one that it was recreated from, while "truest friend" could refer to another Toa who is particularly close to them. Which means that The Head could have been based on an actual Toa from Xia, though I didn't want to deal with the Xian council's excessive bureaucracy just to access a list of registered Toa with no clue which one The Head was copying. This will come up again later.

Getting back on track, since I had an example of a rare phenomenon in my possession, I decided to try giving it a soul-scan to see what I could learn.

Souls are a form of elemental and life essence, generated in the cerebral crystals (also known referred to with the more casual term "brainstalks") of most beings and transported throughout the body via elemental conduits. Souls also what give eyes, cerebral crystals and heartlights their distinctive glow, though the actual colour of said glow comes from the surrounding protodermic biomineral that those components are made out of, which tints the otherwise blindingly white soul-light; even De-Matoran and Toa of Sonics, with their white biominerals, have their soul-light filtered slightly to make their eyes, cerebral crystals and heartlights glow to a lesser degree than if they were isolated.

Souls are comprised of six different "pieces", which affect the shape and appearance of the soul and the being it belongs to; they are Unity, Duty, Destiny, Light, Darkness and Element. The first three obviously relate to the being's connections to the Three Virtues; Light and Shadow have unknown purposes at time of writing, though it appears to have some correlation with the being's personality, as Matoran destined to become Toa usually have higher Light, and Makuta naturally have higher Darkness.

So I put The Head in the soul scanner (it tried to resist, but the most it could do was try to bite my fingers), activated the scanning mode, and went back to my office to water my plants and rearrange my tablets while I waited for the scan to finish.

As soon as I saw the results, I knew that I had to download them to the archival tablet so I could include an image of them here, because they would have been too bizarre to be believable, but it also undoubtably proves my hypothesis of what The Head is.

The Head somehow has 0 Unity, Duty, Destiny or Light, but its Darkness is so high it caused an overflow. This thing is (was?) definitely a Shadow Toa.

Now that I had this evidence at its true origin, I was ready to re-confront it, along with a secret weapon...

The Head: Oh good, the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] finally decided to give me the attention I [EXPLETIVE DELETED] deserve. Vizuna: Yeah, yeah, let's cut to the chase. I know what you are. The Head: [EXAGERRATED GASP] Oh noooooo, you managed to [EXPLETIVE DELETED] figure out "what I really am". You guessed it earlier; I'm a [EXPLETIVE DELETED] Makuta, and I am to be [EXPLETIVE DELETED] feared! Vizuna: You're a Shadow Toa, based on a Toa from the island of Xia. You were struck down in battle, but managed to survive as a damaged head due to not being defeated properly. The Head: Wait, how did you f- Vizuna: A combination of ancient writings, and a summary of your soul's construction. And to further prove it, I brought this. The Head: A [EXPLETIVE DELETED] mask? What's that going to do? Vizuna: It'll let me know who'll get the privilege of shutting you up for good.

At this point, I ran out of audio-recording space on the tablet (sorry about that, Etoku; I replaced the memory module before returning it to you), but when I put the mask on The Head, it turned dark-grey, so I will be requesting access to the Xian council's list of registered Toa and looking for any Toa of Ice or Sonics.

Now, a lot of fellow spiritual researchers might hate me for what I am about to say, but I am going to destroy it, because there's a lot that we're going to learn from how it reacts to being exposed to its original

Artifact information:

Categories: Living, Supernatural

Current location: External Warehouse 7434-B, "To Be Destroyed" section.

End of log.

Addendum by Spiritual Researcher Vizuna: I went to ask Surgical Director Gogot about The Head, but according to the other surgeons in the dissection lab, he's currently busy; some slackers from Le-Metru somehow managed to get into the Mutagenics gallery, and he's taken the sole responsibility of dissecting what's left of them.

Addendum by Spiritual Researcher Vizuna: Ok, so it's been a week, and Gogot still isn't available; according to the off-duty surgeon who answered the door when I went to ask, he won't be available for at least a month, maybe longer, and since I didn't want to subject any... less experienced surgeons to The Head's nonsense, I will just wait until he's finished. In lighter news, I managed to finally get a copy of the Xian council's list of registered Toa, and I've had letters sent to the Toa that The Head was mimicking, as well as what the list claims is their closest ally, so hopefully they'll respond soon to... dispose of it. Also it means I won't need Gogot to ID the type of Toa that The Head came from.

#bionicle #metru nui archives data logs #vizuna's writing style is like a cleaner version of how i normally write stuff. with slightly more technobabble #also if youre wondering why i decided to censor the swearing its because i could be bothered to come up with mu-specific ones #gogot will show up in person in the log after next and i hope everyone likes his Deal™#(he makes a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes but is extremely knowledgeable about the anatomy of mu beings. and also hes kinda snarky #but also expresses sympathy for any beings who were forcibly mutated or otherwise messed-up by another being)#also i started playing chants of sennaar midway through rewriting the section about the ancient matoran document. can you tell #oh also. the reason that the head's scan looks Like That is because it wouldnt make sense to just use the set-accurate metru head while als #mentioning it biting someone. so i decided to make it look a bit more like what id imagine a ''realistic'' metru head looking like #(namely thinner and more angled cheek tubes; a flatter ''nose''; and an actual hinged mouth)#when i do some of the later ones (where matoran diagrams and stuff will start becoming more prominent) i will do the same thing there too

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breachverse · 2 years ago

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Breach: Chicago War Zone - WIP Update 14 - 10th of February 2023

I didn't think I'd be able to finish it this month considering my hard drive decided to corrupt itself, but, goddamn, I did it.

WIP Update 14 has been released! Chapter 2 Part 2 for both routes have started all the way up to the first chance of a downtime. Though you can't hangout with anyone, except for Hayne, you can now enjoy the limited shop for both the Archangel AND the FBI route, as well as the completed skill training feature.

Breach: Chicago War Zone (Updated)

DEVELOPMENT LOG#14 (10-February-2023)

(B2.1.1.22.12.20)

Alpha - 14

Tons of bug fixes typos and grammar fixes

Added the ability to buy plasma cutter pre-hangout

Added ARC skills training and store (limited)

Added FBI skills training and store (very limited)

Fixed FBI armory not being free. (Everything should now be free)

Tweaked a few of the weapon's descriptions to be available for both routes

Tweaked several weapon accessories token modifiers

Tweaked available accessories for the UTS-15

Added Flash Grenades

Added AR-10 Battle rifle (I know, I'm calling it one)

Added KSG-12 Shotgun

Added RPD Machine gun

Added AK-12 Assault rifle

Alpha - 14

Added Chapter Part restart feature to Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Settings tab to the Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Cheats tab to the Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Hayne's 1st hangout

W.I.P.: Chapter 2 Part 2 of The AA branch (23%) W.I.P.: Chapter 2 Part 2 of The FBI branch (23%) W.I.P.: AA Hangout (9%) W.I.P.: AA Store system (60%) W.I.P.: FBI Hangout (9%) W.I.P.: FBI Store system (50%) W.I.P.: Stat screen upgrade (30%) COMPLETED: Chapter 2 Part 1 of The AA branch (100%) COMPLETED: Chapter 2 Part 1 of The FBI branch (100%)

Word Count: 656,856 words including codes (Last update was 637,822)

The private testing for this was uploaded last month so technically I managed to get an update out once month but still… it was quite a delay and I'm terribly sorry.

For those who don't know, I had a horrible setback in which my computer's hard drive decided to bork itself and I had to reinstall windows. I lost a small number of data but it took me some time to rebuild my database and retrieve data from my corrupted hard drive. Thankfully, Breach itself is saved due to the number of backups I've made and the precaution of having multiple copies on different hard drives.

More detail on the situation on this post if you want to see the exact problem I was having.

But, all of that is past now and though I am still building up everything again, I was able to get my workspace back in order and thankfully, I've managed to finish this damn update before the end of the month for private testing, and added a few things for the public update.

The update also consists some scenes for the ARC route where if you choose to do the prep work for the grate work or wall work in the tunnels under the bank, as well as some new scenes for the FBI route where [spoiler]if you let Greg escape during the raid, he'll want to meet with you and he'll give you some secrets about the trio.[/spoiler]

I'm sorry it's taken so long, and thank you for being so patient. It's not a huge update, but it features the shop and the skill training system in-game where you can buy and change your gear however you wish, though the FBI armoury is quite limited for now.

Thank you all for your patience.

Much love! ❤️

-------------------------------------

Link to the CoG Forums post

I also have a Discord server!

As always feel free to drop however many screenshot feedbacks you'd like, either in the forums or in our Discord channel!

#breachverse #breach update #breach: chicago warzone #choice of games #interactive fiction #bcwz #breach the archangel job #if wip #choicescript #hosted games #cyoa #dashingdon #if game #interactive novel #breachverse news #btaj

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caratdeulforever · 4 months ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

school bus graveyard x oc's

chapter two

warnings: bad writing, lowercase intended, might contain wrong grammar, none more that i can think of

author's note: i made this as descriptive as i can. this is my first time to write like this, lowercase like that. i like to write, i have so many ideas of what might happen if i add this? thoughts like that, so yeah. i hope you like it!

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

beep!

brown eyes snapped open as aidhel sat up in her bed. her eyes scanned the pitch black room in panic, before calming down when she saw the familiar moon light by the window on her room. she heard rustles beside her and turned her head to look at the source but winced. aiden had stood up to turn on the lights. he grinned when he saw his sister cover her eyes, she really didn't like sudden light when she just woke up.

ben had also woken up from beside her, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. you may think this is weird since they're all teenagers but they're all sleeping in the same bed. well ever since this whole transporting thing from one realm to another started happening, the three of them thought it was best to sleep together in one room before and after midnight stroke. aidhel had long lost the ability to sleep on her own since it happened. she was too paranoid to be alone at night anymore, she feared that one of those monsters will be there lingering in the dark. waiting for her to lower her guard before pouncing on her.

ben and aiden, being sweethearts that they are offered their company. but in truth, the both of them were hella scared too but she doesn't need to know that now does she? anyways, aiden walked over to her and smiled, "ya good?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

aidhel huffed but nonetheless smiled back and flicked his forehead. "yeah, i'm good." she said softly. aiden winced and rubbed the spot before chuckling. he then stood up to get their phones by her night stand. after handing it to them, they all simultaneously turned it on and checked their group chat.

logan: is everyone okay?

frances: define okay

ashlyn: 👍

aiden: that was close

aidhel: we were almost done for

taylor: physically yes

tyler: mentally no

ben: did anyone finished the homework?

aidhel turned to look at ben and smirked, "you didn't do it did you?" she asked and ben just sheepishly scratched his nape. aiden raised a brow at her, "you did?" he asked in disbelief.

aidhel frowned at him, not liking the tone of his voice. "why do you sound so shocked? i always do my homework." she said while narrowing her eyes at him. aiden laughed before raising both his hands in surrender to her. "woah calm down tiger, good for you."

frances: we had homework?

ashlyn: screw it

tyler: ^

taylor: ^

aidhel chuckled at ashlyn's response and immediately went to chat her. aiden had already stood up to walk to his sister's study stable. ben looked at aidhel then at aiden and thought to himself whether or not he should do his or not. he decided what's best for him and moved to follow aiden. he really didn't want an earful from aidhel about not doing homeworks. she'll threaten to tell his mom and he didn't want an earful from her too.

aidhel looked up from her phone and looked at her boys, "you guys are seriously gonna do it?" she asked with a raised brow. she wanted to giggle at the sight, ben and aiden sat together in her pink study table. since their things were in their room and they were too lazy to get it, they were using her things to answer their homework. imagine the serious faces of aiden and ben while using unicorn themed pens.

aiden looked back at her and grinned, already dropping his serious facade. "yeah! so i can give it to ashlyn tomorrow." he said beaming at her before turning back to his paper. ben looked at her and shrugged before doing his own as well. aidhel paused before biting her lip as she looked down at her phone. she had already sent the copy of her homework to ashlyn just a second ago. oh well, at least he's doing his homework.

she laid back to her bed and opted to watch tiktoks as she waited for the two of them. hell would freeze over before she sleeps without them on the bed. she needed the reassurance that she wasn't alone, and sleeping alone isn't that. she had nightmares of those monsters every night since their fieldtrip, when it all began. ben and aiden were getting worried and did the best they can to help her regain her sleeping schedule back. and sleeping altogether seems to slightly do the trick. the comfort of being with someone you trust the most while you sleep was enough to calm her mind. although she still gets nightmares, it wasn't as often as before since they arranged this.

"do you guys think if we die there, we'll also die here?" she asked out loud out of curiosity. she remembered the last thing that happened when they were there earlier. the monster was just a second away from pouncing at them. what if they were there for much longer? and one of them died? will they die in here too?

ben and aiden both stopped at writing and pondered over the idea. aiden shrugged, "maybe?" he said not entirely sure of his answer. ben just pursed his lips and scribbled his answer on a scratch paper. aiden took it and began reading its content, "its not impossible. since our bodies are connected in both realms." aiden read out loudly.

aidhel hummed, considering his answer. "thats scary, we should really be careful in there." she muttered out loud as she placed her phone in her stomach. she looked back at them and frowned, "finish that already and let's sleep." she said with a frown.

almost immediately, the two boys simultaneously turned to finish their homework. aidhel grinned, glad of the authority she had even though she was youngest. she wanted to applaud them, the both of them are oddly synchronous tonight- or morning.

after a while, aiden finished first. he stood up and stretched his arms tiredly. he looked back to ben who was still writing and gestured his own work to him, "just copy mine." he said with a smile. ben beamed and immediately went to check aiden's answers but paused. aiden had the worst writing between the three of them, it never seemed to improve. he reasoned that as long as he understands it, it was enough. ben sighed and pushed it back, he can do it on his own.

it didn't took him long enough, ben finished within a minute after aiden. aidhel then turned to charge her phone while ben arranged the things on her study table. aiden had already plopped on the bed and was getting cozy under the duvets. after turning the lights off, ben laid on the other side of the girl.

"goodnight guys." aidhel murmured before closing her eyes. the two boys then wrapped their arms around her. it was purely platonic, so haters out there better shut their mouth. aiden kissed his sister's forehead before they drifted into deep slumber.

---

aidhel was the first one to wake up. the moment she did, it was still dark. she blinked a bit before yawning tiredly. the alarm by her nightstand started to beep and she raised a brow. for the first time in a while, she woke up before her alarm. however, the two boys beside her groaned at the sound. they all fell asleep joined together in the middle but they woke up in different positions. aiden was close to falling, as he groaned and tried to rolled over, he finally fell to the floor. at the loud thud, ben suddenly sat up and looked around the place worriedly.

aidhel leaned to her nightstand to turn the alarm off before pointing to aiden who was already sitting up on the floor. ben sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly before standing up. he gestured to the door and aidhel hummed, she knew what he meant. he slowly walked to his room to get ready for school. aidhel unplugged her phone before looking at her brother. aiden has his eyes closed while sitting and made no move to stand up.

aidhel rolled her eyes and leaned to pat his head softly. "go get ready, aiden." she instructed softly to him. aiden opened his eyes and blinked, before nodding and sluggishly walking to his room. aidhel stood up as well and fixed her bed before going to the bathroom to get ready as well.

it only took her ten minutes to get ready. she emerged from the bathroom all neat and clean. she walked over to her closet and browsed through her clothes. she settled for her cargo pants and an oversized tee. she wasn't feeling anything bright so the color of her clothes were monotoned for today.

she put her things on her bag and picked up the homework that ben and aiden had done last night. she walked down the stairs and went straight to the kitchen. the maids were already up and going, cleaning and preparing the things to cook for when they get home. as aidhel entered, one of the maids immediately walked to her and handed her a tumbler.

aidhel beamed and smiled gratefully, "thank you julie." she thanked the woman and took the tumbler. julie nodded with a smile before going back to her tasks. aidhel immediately took a sip of the tumbler and sighed, it was great to start the day with caffeine.

she walked back to the living room and checked the time, "ben! aiden! c'mon let's go!" she called out loudly to the boys. not a minute later, ben emerged from his room and walked down the stairs. it looked like he just changed his shirt and got his bag, ready for the day. he looked so tired, the eye bags were evident and he can barely keep his eyes open. aidhel winced for him, "want some?" she asked and gestured her tumbler at him.

ben raised a brow and shook his head, he wondered whats in it but remembered how much of a caffeine addict she was. they both looked at each other when they heard a thud from upstairs and both sighed together. aiden speed walked from his room to the stairs. unlike ben, aiden changed his clothes altogether. he smiled at them while walking down and skipped one of the step before standing in front of them.

"let's go!" he said before marching outside the house. aidhel and ben followed suit behind him. immediately so, their school bus appeared just right on time. aiden entered first and sat himself to their usual seat. ben moved to sit beside him while aidhel sat by herself on the seat in front of them both. aiden hummed to himself while watching the bus move. when he saw ashlyn's house, his eyes visibly lit up and he patted ben excitedly. ben winced and moved to switch places with him, already knowing the drill.

aidhel laughed when she looked to see the commotion behind her. "didn't even bothered to hide your excitement." she commented teasingly and aiden just smiled at her. they both looked at ashlyn as she slowly walked to the sit beside aidhel. "hey ash." aiden greeted first, smiling brightly unlike his seatmate who looked dead beside him.

"good morning." aidhel greeted with a smile. ashlyn tiredly smiled at her and they both clinked their tumblers of coffee. its been a routine now that they sit together since their first day, ashlyn thought that she was tolerable enough and wanted no one else to sit beside to. aidhel offered her a calming presence, she always understood how she felt and never pressured her to whatever they have now. over the short period time that they had been together, she can say that she had finally warmed up to someone.

ashlyn sat herself beside her and leaned her head back tiredly with a soft groan. ben and her had a matching expression, looking as if though a dementor from harry potter performed the 'kiss' on them. aiden suddenly popped up from the top of the seat, just right above her head making her jump in surprise. "last night was rough huh?"

she watched how his head disappeared for a moment, hearing the rustles and humming behind her. aiden bent down to get his bag and opened it to fetch his homework from last night. the clark siblings had almost the same brand of bags but as they customized it to match their personalities, you'd know who's who. aiden always chose to personalized his things with smiley faces. while aidhel always chose to personalize hers with floral designs like embroidery or flower pins.

"i finished the homework." ashlyn looked at the homework he had presented from beside her face. "wanna copy?" he offered, leaning against the seat and smirked at her. ashlyn looked down at the paper then back to him.

'his energy never ceases does it?' she thought, imagining him humming happily while doing his homework late at night. "i already did mine." ashlyn said, looking at him unblinking. aiden paused mid-air and turned to look at aidhel, who visibly shrunk on her seat.

aiden pouted in a downcast manner, "you sent it didn't you?" he asked poking his sister's arm. aidhel sheepishly looked at him and let out an awkward laugh, "i already sent it before you told me your gonna do it." she defended herself. aiden kept his pout and went back to his seat with his arms crossed childishly.

ashlyn just closed her eyes and listened as aidhel attempted to appease her brother for the rest of the bus trip. even when they arrived at the school, aiden refused to speak with his sister. ashlyn and ben just tiredly followed after them both as they led them to their first class.

aidhel pouted at her brother but quickly erased it when they finally reached their room. "good morning mr. walter!" she greeted their homeroom teacher energetically.

mr. walter looked up to her with a smile. "good morning..?" he drawled out when he took in the appearances of his students. ashlyn and ben majorly contributed to the gloomy aura they all let out. the both of them looked drained to the core. the coffee in ashlyn's hand did little effort to help her wake up. aiden had his arms crossed and seemed to be in a feud with his sister. aidhel on the other hand just illuminated sunshine beside them with her coffee induced energy.

mr. walter looked at them worriedly with a smile, 'they're like this every morning now. do they stay up all night?'

before

"good morning." ashlyn greeted the teacher, with no any other emotion. she brushed past the teacher's desk when mr. walter acknowledged her and went straight to her seat.

"g'morning." aiden said cooly as he led their little trio. aidhel elbowed him harshly making him double back in pain. "good morning mr. thomas." aidhel greeted with a smile as she ignored her brother's wince. ben just settled for a nod of acknowledgement to the teacher.

"good morning mr. thomas!" logan greeted with a smile as he entered the room.

"good day, mr. walter!" frances greeted as she jogged inside the room. mr. walter had to bite back a laugh when the girl almost slipped on her feet.

"morning." tyler greeted nonchalantly while her sister waved, "morning!" taylor greeted with a smile. she always had much more enthusiasm than her twin brother.

now

mr. walter watched taylor sleep with her head down on the table. he had to jump back in surprise when he heard her suddenly drop on the table. tyler wasn't any better, the boy practical swayed in his seat. exhaustion decorated his face and the eye bags were evident in the boy's eyes.

logan had his head thrown back and was fading in and out of consciousness. frances didn't even bothered to fight it, her chin was propped on her palm as she slept. she was staring at the board earlier and really tried to stay awake but it was too strong. a minute after she sat and she was already nodding off.

ashlyn and ben both zombie-walked to their seats. aidhel was still trying to coax her brother to talk to her but the boy was adamant on ignoring her. its been a while since he got sulky and he was milking in his sister's attention. aiden yawned and sat on his seat while aidhel pouted at him.

"everyone get your homework out please." mr. walter called out and he watched as the rest of his students moved to fetch their works. ashlyn completely blacked out on everything because the moment she put her head down, everything went black until she was rudely awoken by the loud ringing of the bell.

she jolted awake from the loud sound. the drool on her face was evidence of sleep. 'crap. i slept through class again.' she scolded herself when she glanced at the clock and saw it was already nearing lunch. she took a look around and realized that she wasn't the only one to sleep in the class. she wondered in those two hours why mr. walter didn't attempted to wake them up.

aiden, aidhel and logan were the only ones to stay awake. logan was fighting for his life, while aiden was busy playing with his rubiks cube. aidhel just attentively listened to the lecture. the remaining ones look dead though. ben didn't even flinched at the bell. while frances, tyler and taylor had the same annoyed expressions of being woken up suddenly.

'at this rate, we're gonna fail.' ashlyn thought to herself while wiping the drool of her face. 'but not much you can do in our situation.'

as the teacher dismissed the class, ashlyn slowly put her things back in her bag. she frowned, she hadn't even used it the whole time she was in the class.

"ashlyn!"

she looked up to the call her name. aiden stood in front of her with his hands inside his hoodie pockets. "we're all eating lunch together." he said with a smile. ben stood beside him exhausted and was leaning on aidhel for support. the girl held him while sipping her coffee. frances and logan walked together sluggishly while the twins couldn't even function properly to walk.

"y'know to talk about the stuff." aiden informed rather secretly. he even went as far as covering the side of his face, to make it look so suspicious. 'he always says 'stuff'. does he means the phantoms?' she thought as she finished putting her things back on her bag. she sighed before standing up. 'this should go well..' ashlyn just hummed impassively, "alright."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

#aiden clark #ashlyn banner #ben clark #logan fields #sbg x reader #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard x reader #taylor hernandez #webtoon #webtoon x reader #x reader

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bio1 · 1 year ago

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Hey everyone, we final got done with act 1 of my Earthspark horror theme fan fic called "throughout a rotted oak".

Was going of this posted on Halloween (since the story takes place there) but we just didn't have enough time or energy for that then.

Anyway thank you to my friend @billie-jay for doing A lot of the writing and grammar checking with me. Couldn't done this without them. Anyway here's the first act, Enjoy.😊

Also warning this story contains: descriptions of graphic imagery and body horror.

"Throughout a rotted oak" Act one: sleepy beginnings.

Despite how close to midnight it was, the sound of footsteps could still be heard throughout the dugout. A combination of caffeine and late night movie watching was keeping Twitch Malto wide awake while the rest of her terran siblings dozed off peacefully. In her defense, if Robbie didn’t want her drinking his energy drinks, he should have kept them hidden better. And the password to her father’s Netflix account should have been more secure than ‘bumblebee123’.

Though the entirety of the terrans had all stayed up to binge as many horror movies as they could think of (with the expectation of Jawbreaker, who had his eyes closed the entire time out of fear), only Twitch was still awake. As she paced nervously up and down the dugout, she looked over her sleeping siblings one by one. Thrash was in his alt mode, somehow completely upside down. His engine was repeatedly reving up and stalling in a cycle, as if he was snoring. Jawbreaker was laying facedown on the floor, a comically small teddy bear perched carefully on top of his head. Hashtag, who had tried staying up later herself by watching youtube, had eventually fallen asleep as well, her phone autoplaying what sounded like Russian dashcam crash footage. And Nightshade… Hm, actually, she didn’t see Nightshade anywhere. Not that she was really paying attention, however. Her mind was too busy replaying everything she had seen earlier in the night over and over.

The kids had essentially gone to the horror section on Netflix and watched as many movies as they could before they got tired. From goofier horror comedies like "Critters" to things genuinely terrifying physiological thrillers like "Halloween", and some striking and odd balance of the two like "Scream". What really got to her, however, was John Carpenter's "The Thing", and not just because of what happened to those poor sled dogs. That awful, morphing monster, the way it ripped the research team apart, really stuck with her. Possibly because it reminded her of a few of Mandroid’s own creations she had to fight before, epecially that bear mutant from mother’s day.

She was so caught up in her own head that she didn’t even notice Fluffy Ears right in front of her. Twitch ended up tripping right over the family’s pet cow, who decided it would be a good idea to sleep in the middle of the dugout’s hallway. She managed to catch herself mid fall by switching into her alt mode just before hitting the ground. The sleepy calf roused her head, looked at the little red drone hovering directly in front of her, gave her a quick lick, and fell back asleep. The whole ordeal was quiet enough not to wake anyone else, but it did catch the attention of Nightshade, poking their head out from around a corner near their lab.

“Oh, Twitch, I didn’t know you were still up.” They smiled. “Is everything alright? You look nervous.”

“How can you tell that if I’m in my alt mode?”

“Well, you’re shaking. Pretty violently.”

She hadn’t even realized that, but they were right. She accidentally bumped into Fluffy Ears pretty hard. Startled, Twitch switched back into her normal mode and tried profusely apologizing to the calf. Fluffy Ears didn’t seem to mind, and got up from her spot to start aimlessly wandering around the dugout.

“I’m, uh, I’m fine, Nightshade. What are you doing over there, anyway?” Twitch attempted to change the subject, making her way over to Nightshade’s lab. At the very least, this might be a fun distraction. Nightshade’s bright green optics lit up at this, clearly excited to show someone their work.

"I am so glad you asked." They tugged on their sibling's arm and pulled them into their lab. On a table in the center was a large, ominous looking metal contraption.

"Wait, isn't that-" Twitch began, before getting cut off.

"The reverse beartrap from Saw, yes!" Nightshade beamed, proudly holding it up. "The movies we watched tonight weren't particularly the type I enjoy, but I did appreciate some of the creative inventions a few of them displayed." They looked over to see Twitch with a completely horrified expression on her face. "Oh, are you wondering if it works? I am too. This is just a prototype I whipped up based on how it was explained in the film. I was actually just about to test it-" They reached under the table and pulled out a full pumpkin. Nightshade extended their arms and eagerly gestured for Twitch to take the gourd. "Since you're up, would you like to do the honors?"

"... Actually, I was wondering why you built a torture device in the first place." She finally responded, nervously looking it over. "I mean, you've built some crazy stuff in the past, but this is, uh, kind of disturbing, Nightshade."

Nightshade looked somewhat disappointed at this, shaking their head a bit. "You've got the wrong idea! A torture device implies that the victim is meant to survive."

Nightshade set the trap down and activated it themselves. Within seconds, it ripped the pumpkin open, its guts splattering messily onto the floor.

"A person wouldn't have survived that." They added, clearly happy the machine worked as intended.

Twitch flinched and stood back, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates.

"Twitch?" Nightshade asked, concerned. "What is-oh. I get it. Don't worry, it was never my intention to use this on any living being. I just like challenging myself, and building this seemed like it would be an interesting experiment." They began scooping the guts off the concrete floor. "The thought of this device ever actually being used for its original purpose… that's something I wouldn't even have wished on Mandroid." They muse. Noticing their sister was still silent, Nightshade approached her, a worried look forming on their features.

"Are you sure you're alright? You didn't think I was really going to-" Twitch cut them off.

"No! Oh, no, I know you wouldn't, Shady. I'm just kind of on edge tonight, I guess. Probably shouldn't have stolen Robbie's energy drinks." She attempted to brush off their concern as convincingly as she could.

"You probably shouldn't have! Caffeine can worsen the hyperactive aspects of ADHD after all." They agreed, patting her on the shoulder.

"...You think I have ADHD?"

Before Nightshade could respond, a massive crunch boomed out from above them.

"What was that!?" Twitch flew out in search of the cacophony. Nightshade, trying their best to keep up with her, tiptoed as softly as they could to prevent waking the others. They found Twitch looking through the camera screens in the main room of the dugout. There was nothing unusual on live feed, just a few autumn leaves blowing past the cameras Nightshade has placed around the ranch.

"Should we-" Nightshade began, getting cut off again.

"Check it out? Yes, obviously!" She seemed a little too excited to see what was out there. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse to feel useful, or burn off some of her energy.

Without a second of hesitation, she switched to her alt mode and flew outside, wildly darting around the sky above the dugout. Twitch changed back into bot mode as she landed on the barn's roof. With the moonlight nearly hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, it was almost pitch black outside. Nightshade caught up with their energetic sister, surprised to see her standing still as a statue.

"Twitch! There is nothing out here but the nocturnal wildlife. Perhaps it was a raccoon who made that sound." Nightshade said.

Twitch responded in a shaky tone. "Nightshade, what kind of raccoon could make a noise that loud?"

"...One with rabies?"

"Wait! Listen for a moment." She hushed, falling silent again.

Nightshade listened for something out there to satisfy their sister's paranoia. "I hear nothing Twitch."

"Exactly, Nightshade! There's nothing! No crickets chirping, none of the cows are making any sound, there aren't even moths near the lights!" She exclaimed frantically.

"Oh goodness, you're right. Now that is odd. The only time it's ever perfectly quiet outside is when there is something…dangerous around."

Nightshade glared in front of them, attempting to make out the source of the eerie calmness.

"That tree… wasn't there before." They noted, their voice shaky as they pointed ahead.

Twitch turned to see what her sibling was referring to. In the middle of the forest, several hundred meters away from the barn, a massively tall, crooked tree stood high above the rest. It only has three twisted branches, growing out of its spindly stalk in such a way to vaguely resemble a humanoid figure with bending limbs. One branch in the middle rounded out at the end to form the "head" of this horrific plant.

"Ok, so that certainly wasn't a raccoon then." Nightshade commented. Their sister began switching into her alt mode, before the younger green bot grabbed hold of her. "Twitch, wait! Going out to investigate… whatever that is right away probably isn't a good idea. We should at least think this through first."

Twitch struggled in their grip for a second before shaking herself off, but didn't immediately fly out like she wanted to. "What's the hold up? You seriously want to just head in and call it a night?" She snapped at them.

"No, of course not. I just think we shouldn't do it alone." They added, remaining calm.

"And give that tree-thing a chance to move in first? I don't think so." Twitch shifted and took off into the sky. Reluctantly, Nightshade changed into their alt mode as well, flying directly in front of her to block her path.

"Twitch! What's gotten into you?" They asked frantically. Thankfully for them, Twitch did stop on her tracks. "You clearly aren't doing well tonight. Whatever's got you troubled, I'm here for you, and so is the rest of the family."

"We clearly have bigger issues than my anxiety to deal with right now!" She shouted. "Things like… that are just more proof I haven't been doing enough to keep us safe."

"Is that what this is about? Twitch, this isn't your fault-" she cut them off.

"Well it'll be both of our faults if that tree monster gets its dirty roots on the others because we were busy screwing around here!"

Nightshade wasn't sure how to respond. Twitch’s panicked tone and expression afe it clear how stressed and out of it she was. But how were they supposed to comfort her? This entire situation was making it hard for even them to think, especially with that giant tree staring at them-

Wait, the tree was staring at them?

Nightshade slowly turned their head to get a better look, and to their horror, the tall head of the ominous tree had sprouted a pair of huge, glowing eyes.

“We need to go back inside, now!” They grabbed Twitch's arm with their talons, dragging their sister behind them. Almost involuntarily, the younger mech let out an owlish screech as they dived back into the dugout from the entrance in the barn's roof.

Switching back into their alt mode, Nightshade rushed over to the console displaying the security cameras’ feds. They displayed nothing but static, oddly enough. Nightshade, frustrated and confused, frantically tried fixing the console, but nothing seemed to be working.

After a few moments, Twitch quietly approached her sibling, meekly tapping them on the shoulder. “Shady, I need to tell you something…”

“I'm not mad at you, Twitch. Just, I need to focus right now-”

“That's not what an owl sounds like.” She continued.

Nightshade stopped what they were working on and turned to face her. “...I'm sorry?”

“I've been meaning to say this ever since you got your alt mode, but that owl screech you do isn't actually what owls sound like. The noise you make is more like an eagle or a hawk.”

Nightshade just sort of stared at her, not sure what to say.

“Oh.” Was all they could think of as a response.

“Wait, why would you bring that up now?”

“I'm sorry! I'm scared! I can't even really think straight, it feels like my brain is shutting down…” She grabbed onto her head and shook it, as if trying to forcefully wake herself up.

Nightshade tried to go back to fixing the camera system, but found that their own mind felt somewhat fuzzy as well. They've repaired similar errors on this exact console plenty of times before. Yet for some reason, the solution just wasn't coming to them now.

“It had eyes, didn't it? That's what those were, in the tree, I mean. Huge eyes.” Twitch finally spoke, her usually fast speaking voice noticeably low in energy. “Do you think… that was something Ghost made?”

“I can't imagine what use they would have with a giant, monstrous tree.” Nightshade answered, putting down the wires they were fiddling with. “We should alert the others.”

“...Right.” their sister responded. She glided over to the nearest Malto sibling, that being Hashtag. The large purple mech was still peacefully dozing off with her phone now playing, of all things, Wendigoon’s conspiracy theory iceberg. As if this whole situation wasn't ominous enough.

Twitch gently nudged the larger bot’s shoulder. “Hashtag? Get up, something happened.”

No response. She was still completely out of it.

“H-hashtag?” Twitch shook her sister a little more forcefully now.

She still didn't stir.

“HASHTAG! WAKE UP!” Twitch yelled as loudly as possible, but this didn't do much besides startle the already well-awake Nightshade.

The smaller red bot, frustrated at this point, switched into her alt mode and fired a laser several inches from her sleeping sister. This also accomplished nothing.

“Twitch! What on earth are you doing?” Nightshade called out frantically.

“I wasn't going to hit her! I… I couldn't think of anything else, I thought that would work.” She admitted, her voice shaky.

Twitch flew over to Thrash and Jawbreaker, shouting their names and firing controlled lasers inches from their bodies in a reckless attempt to wake them. The brothers were similarly out cold, however, and nothing she did had any affect on them.

“You need to stop that! If you miss and hit them…” Nightshade began, cutting themselves off as they watched the red drone revert to her bot mode, a defeated and exhausted expression washing over her face. Her large yellow optics seemed to almost wobble in place, a streaking, cold light emanating from them. Nightshade got the impression that if Cybertronians were physically capable of shedding tears, she'd be sobbing right now.

“What's going on, Shady?” She barely managed to speak, nearly choking on every word.

Seeing their usually cheerful, energic sister in such a miserable state was utterly heartbreaking for Nightshade. It wasn't her fault, but Twitch seemed to truly believe whatever misfortune her family had fallen upon somehow could have been prevented by her.

Nightshade, not being the best at emotional support, tried to go for a more practical way of comforting her. “They… they aren't dead.” The younger Terran informed her. Walking over to Jawbreaker, Nightshade gently pried his eyelids apart to reveal intact, glowing optics. They weren't responding to any stimuli, but the fact that they were on was proof that the bots were in some kind of comatose state.

“How did you…” Twitch started speaking, but seemingly lost the strength to continue partway through her question.

“How did I know?” Nightshade presumptively finished for her. Twitch nodded in confirmation. “I've installed vital trackers in all of us. If any of us were to go offline, I would get an alert.” They informed her.

“Oh, that's good. Thank you.” She seemed a little relieved, before realizing the full consequences of what her sibling just admitted. “Wait, I don't remember… when did you install those?”

“That's not really something we need to worry about now…” Nightshade mumbled, not expecting her to question their actions.

“...Nightshade, how many… things have you added to us?” She lowered her gaze a bit, inquisitively. Before questioning them further, her optics lit up, having remembered something.

“I just realized, we never saw Fluffy Ears!” She blurted out frantically. Twitch began zooming around the dugout in her altmode, looking for the baby cow.

Nightshade gave a sigh of relief that her line of questioning was over for now, and joined her in the search.

“Where was she last?” They called out, looking around their lab while Twitch scanned the dugout’s hall.

“I… I don't know, she just sort of wandered off-Oh!” Twitch flew over to a far corner of the room.

“I found her! What are you doing over here, silly cow…” Twitch nudged the calf, who seemed to be fast asleep, resting her head on her flank. Fluffy Ears didn't stir, however.

“...Fluffy Ears?” Twitch was significantly more worried as she spoke this time, her voice getting louder. The calf didn't respond.

Nightshade looked over their sister's shoulders, noting that, thankfully, the little cow was still breathing.

“That's odd, very odd… whatever happened to our siblings seems to be affecting her as well.” Nightshade leaned down and gently stroked Fluffy Ears head, mostly in an attempt to calm themselves down. This entire situation wasn't making any sense, and that scared them. They needed to remain calm, however, if only to reassure Twitch.

The smaller bot looked to her sibling for answers.

“...Do you think it's gotten to everyone in the house?”

“Are you referring to whatever has put everyone here to sleep?” Nightshade attempted to clarify.

“Yeah, I mean, if it got to Fluffy Ears… Mom, Dad, Robbie, and Mo are also organic.”

“That's a good point, actually.” Nightshade pondered. They didn't even think of that. “Are we dealing with some kind of virus that affects both organics and bots? Does such a thing even exist?”

“Forget virus, it's obviously coming from that messed up tree outside.”

“The tree? That can't be right. How could it even…” Nightshade was at a complete loss.

“Seriously, Nightshade? This thing shows up, and suddenly, all of our family is out cold. That can't be a coincidence.” She was exasperated.

“I agree it's strange, but there shouldn't be any way a plant could incapacitate both organics and Cybertronians by just… I don't even know…” Their head was starting to throb like a migraine. Trying to think critically was physically hurting them.

The two siblings just stood there, feeling their own bodies growing weaker with every passing second. It was a sensation similar to being sedated. A feeling they probably would have given into, had Twitch not noticed a strange black tendril poking out of a nearby vent.

“Is that a rat?” Twitch asked groggily. Wouldn't be the first time a rat got into the dugout. But said rats usually weren't so long. And slithering…

“Nightshade! Get down!” Twitch jumped and pushed her sibling down to the ground, just before a huge tendril swung at their head. The tendril instead hit the monitors Nightshade had attempted to fix. A single whack caused not only all the monitors to shatter, but the concrete wall behind them to violently crack.

Nightshade's optics widened with horror. There was no question about it. If that tendril had hit them instead, their head would have been knocked clean off.

The tendril dove for the pair of them, seeming to know exactly where they were despite not having eyes. They both moved to opposite sides, barely avoiding getting stabbed. As it pulled out of the small hole it burrowed into the floor, the tendril opened up for a second, briefly revealing a crimson reptilian eye that scanned the room before closing again.

Nightshade, in an effort to get out of the way, bumped into the table they had placed the reverse bear trap onto earlier. It fell into their lap with a clattering thud. An idea came to them, and they armed the trap to go off again.

“Twitch, take this and have it drive for you again! When it gets close, have it aim for the trap! I think it only keeps its eyes open for a few seconds at a time!”

Twitch, being the faster of the two even in her groggy state, agreed with a nod and flew past the tendril, the trap in her grasp. It took the bait and launched itself directly towards her, where it got the last several feet of its body caught in the trap’s mechanisms.

The tendril squirmed and rattled as the reverse beartrap’s countdown ticked. After a few agonizingly long seconds, it finally went off. Just as it had with the pumpkin earlier in the night, it absolutely ripped its prey apart with ease. Shards of metal and some kind of fleshy material flew to all corners of the dugout.

The worst part wasn't the sight of the impact, however, it was the dreadful noise it made. Whatever the tendril was attached to screamed in pain as its appendage was destroyed. It had a cry like a nuclear siren, low, loud, and ear-piercing. It felt like something you were never meant to hear, and simply perceiving was a sign that you as the listener were at death’s door.

What remained of the tendril receded back through the vents, leaking a runny black liquid with an odd, iridescent shimmer. A few of the larger chunks that had been ripped open were still slightly animate, curling where they lay like a dying spider.

Nightshade cautiously approached what appeared to be the eye of the tendril, or atleast what was left of it.

It was a translucent, jelly-like red substance with an awful black slit for a pupil that had sort of melted into the iris due to its injury. Said pupil shuddered in place one last time as Nightshade got closer, almost as if it could still perceive the bot somehow.

“Nightshade! Are you alright right!?” Twitch said, sounding out of breath despite not actually having lungs.

“Yes, I'm just a bit scratched up. It's nothing but a bit of polish won't get out.”

Without saying anything else, Nightshade grabbed and chugged down one of the energy drinks that their sister left out. “I know I said earlier that us drinking these was probably a bad idea, but I think they might help.” Their sister nervously fiddled with the can’s lid before managing to get it open for herself.

Nightshade scooped up what's left of the otherworldly tendril and brought it back to their lab.

Pausing to consider their next move, Nightshade eventually settled on attaching the still pulsating fleshy bits to a battery hooked up to a light bulb. After a few seconds, the light dimmed before going out completely. The battery was instantly dead.

“It appears you were right after all. Whatever this thing is, it emits some kind of field that drains energy from anything it's near.” Nightshade concluded.

“So that's what makes us feel so exhausted?” Twitch looked very concerned, her optics darting between Nightshade and her unconscious siblings.

“More than likely, yes. And you might have already guessed this, but I assume it's also keeping all our organic family members asleep. My current theory is that this is a hunting tactic.”

Twitch knew immediately what they were getting at. “Sleeping prey can't fight back.”

“Exactly.” Nightshade confirmed. “The fact that we were previously awake is most likely the only reason why we aren't currently unconscious.”

An uneasy silence filled the dugout. The siblings stood in place, the air around them cold and heavy with tension. Without saying a word, both of them knew what the other was thinking: that monster would be back any moment, and they couldn't keep up the energy to fight it back for long. It was a terrible calm before the storm, a feeling reminiscent of succumbing to hypothermia. An overwhelming, intoxicating urge to close your eyes and drift into a sleep you were well aware you'd never wake up from.

And at this moment, every light in the dugout switched off.

END OF ACT 1

To be continued...

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