#You’ve been dragged across the world without your consent by someone who doesn’t care about your life or his.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Moral of Casanova (2005):

Don’t emotionally neglect your child with selective mutism or take them to public executions.

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 15

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 15

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4,747

Warnings: ANGST, Ketch, Violence, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Non-con, Reader’s Mother, Fluff! 

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: Only one more part after this! As always, please leave your thoughts when you finish reading! Your response is what keeps me going! Happy Reading!! 

 The sounds of beeping filled your ears as you adjusted yourself on the pillow. Your heart beat was steady and your mind was filled with a million thoughts, thoughts that weren’t necessarily good ones. You had stopped shaking for the most part, but the thoughts - well they weren’t going away.

 “Hi, Miss Y/LN,” a kind female voice filled your ears, grabbing your attention. You turned your head to glance over at her. A short blonde with her hair half up half down. Her clipboard in her hand and a soft smile playing on her lips.

 “Yeah?” you responded.

 “We’ve called your emergency contact,” she informed you. Oh god, who was your emergency contact again. It wasn't your mother, you had changed that a long time ago. It wouldn’t have been your dad. He was out of the country more often than not. Had you changed it to Dean? You definitely should have. You had been with him for awhile now. “He’s on his way.”

 “Dean?” you dared to ask.

 “Yes,” she nodded. “He’s looking forward to seeing his girl, is what he said on the phone.”

 “He’s a dork,” you smiled to yourself. “I’m lucky to have him.”

 “After what you’ve been through, I can imagine that you’re going to need him to lean on.”

 “He’s the best person in the entire world,” you breathed out.

 “He’ll be here soon,” she smiled. “Just press the button if you need anything, okay?”

 “Thank you,” you nodded.

 She slipped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. You turned your head back to the side, trying to make yourself comfortable as you waited for your knight in shining armour to get here. You couldn’t wait to see him walk through that door, and finally be in his arms.

 It took every ounce of you not to let the tears roll down your cheeks. You could feel the tightness in your chest growing stronger and stronger. Even the heart rate monitor was fluctuating the more your head spun in circles. Everything would be okay when Dean got here. He would fix you. He’d mend the broken pieces, and kiss the bruises you got along the way.

 You tried to replace the bad thoughts with good ones. You had plenty of good memories you had created over the last few months. The road trip with Dean where your feelings only grew stronger. The late night chats in your bed while you held each other. The movie nights. Mini golf. Dean was your person. He was your better half. He was everything you needed to be okay again. You only knew that because you were the very same for him. The two of you had come such a long way since that night.

 You heard the door open quietly, followed by the heavy foot falls. Your ears perked up, looking towards the door. Dean stood there with a sadness in his eyes. Not that you could really blame him. If the roles were reversed, you would have broken down already.

 “Hi,” you greeted him, looking over to him with sad eyes.

 “Sweetheart, what happened?” he frowned, making his way over to the hospital bed. You moved over a little, wanting him to sit next to you. You wanted to be in his arms. That was your top priority. Being in the arms of the man you loved. He kicked off his boots before lifting the blanket up, joining you in the tiny bed.

 You moved closer to him, not caring about how sore your muscles were. You wanted Dean. That was it. You threw your arm around his middle, resting your head on his shoulder as you breathed him in. He wrapped his arm around you, placing his lips to the top of your head.

 “I love you,” you whispered, “so much.”

 “I love you too, Y/N,” he said lowly. “How hurt are you? Is it just the cut on your head?”

 “Some bruises too, but my head is the worst of it,” you shared.

 “What the hell happened?” he questioned.

 “I was studying in the library for most of the afternoon. I got bored of it and figured that I may as well go home and relax before my head exploded. I packed up and got ready to go. I was walking out of the library when I was pulled into one of the computer rooms.”

 “Fuck, Ketch?” he practically growled.

 “Unfortunately,” you nodded.

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You threw your bag over your shoulder, adjusting it so it wouldn’t dig into you too much as you walked. You were about done studying for the day. You had finales coming up, and you were finally almost done with this portion of college. It was only a matter of days until you found out if you got into a teacher's college or not. You had a good feeling about it, and so did Dean.

 You reached down to find your phone, only to realize you had packed it in your bag by mistake. You were going to text Dean to let him know you were heading home early. Just like you always did. You opened up your bag, searching inside it to try and find your phone.

 You felt someone grab you from behind, and pull you backwards into one of the computer rooms. You were more confused than anything, until you realized who dragged you in. You swore, your heart sank into your stomach at the site of him. How did you ever find this man attractive?

 “What the fuck, Ketch?” you furrowed your brows.

 “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

 “So you grabbed me and dragged me into an empty room?” you growled.

 “Yes, but I knew you wouldn’t talk to me otherwise,” he stated.

 “You’re right,” you scoffed, moving to head towards the door. He moved quickly, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t leave. “Move.”

 “Not until I say this,” he began, taking a deep breath. “I made a mistake.”

 “Oh well,” you rolled your eyes.

 “Would you just listen to me?” he raised his voice a little, making you back up. “I have been horrible to you. I lied to you. I cheated on you. I made you feel worthless and I said a lot of things I didn’t mean because I was mad. I was pissed you left me at the altar on our wedding day, and I was pissed that you humiliated me in front of everyone.”

 “I humiliated you? Are you fucking kidding me, Ketch?” you groaned. “You cheated on me with my best friend for two years of our relationship. Two years! Not only that, you knocked her up, and where are you now? Oh yeah, you’re here instead of with her and your fucking daughter! You ruined her life, do you not understand that? You destroyed her future because you couldn’t put a damn condom on.”

 “She came onto-”

 “Don’t you dare give me that lame excuse! Jo already told me what you were doing! The money. The threesome! I know all about it,” you argued. “I didn’t humiliate you. You did that all on your own. You never thought I had it in me to stand up for myself when an asshole like you does me wrong. I spent so much time hating you and hating myself for what you did. I spent so much time trying to figure out what it was about me that turned you off. Then I realized, you were never into me. Not really. You never treated me as someone you loved and I get that now that I’m with someone who treats me like a queen.”

 “You’re not -”

 “I’m not done,” you pointed at him before crossing your arms. “I should have left you long before I did. All you ever did was lie to me, cheat on me, and treat me like your little bitch. How many times did you push me around? How many times did you have sex with me without my consent? Or my favourite, how many times did you degrade me, and remind me of why my mom would never love me? Too many to count, Ketch. You go around and pretend like your dick is the biggest out there. Well guess what? You are still that same disgusting low life I left at the altar. And that day is actually one of the best days of my life. I look back on that day every single day and smile because I made the best decision I have ever made. It was the day I finally realized that I didn’t care anymore. Not about you, not about my mom. Nothing. It was the day I met the love of my life, and every day after that has been a fucking blessing without you. While you’re out there fucking anything and everything, I know exactly what it’s like to be loved, and cherished. I know what it’s like to feel beautiful and appreciated. Something you’ll never make any woman feel.”

 “You know why you never felt that way? I never loved you,” he chuckled. “In fact, your mom practically begged me to ask you out. Please go out with my lame, no good daughter. She’s never going to find anyone to love her. I sympathized with her at one point, you know? I understood why she could never love you the way she loves me. I’m not a failure. I’ve got money-”

 “You have a shitty personality is what you have,” you rolled your eyes. “And that’s just to start. I don’t know what you thought you were going to accomplish here, but there is no way in hell I’m ever going to have anything to do with you again. You’re already a deadbeat dad, which, thanks for that because half the town bet money on that. But you’re never going to be satisfied with the life you live, and in a way, that makes me happy. I am happy with my life, and who I’m spending the rest of it with. Dean’s a great man, and an even better boyfriend than you could ever dream of being. Money doesn’t buy you everything. It’s not going to buy you someone to love that insanely insecure little boy that’s hiding inside you. The one who’s daddy didn’t care about him.”

 “You fucking bitch,” he shook his head.

 “Have a nice life, Ketch,” you shrugged as you uncrossed your arms. You walked past him, reaching for the door to finally walk out on him for the very last time. You twisted the knob, only to be shoved into the door by a strong force. “Get off me!”

 “Did you really think you were going to get away without a fight?” he said. You could hear the smirk on his face. Your heart began to pound in your chest, as you tried to wiggle your way out of his hold.

 “I said, get off me,” you declared, trying to shove him off you.

 “No, no! That’s not how this is going to go,” he growled in your ear. “Dean Winchester is never going to want to touch a filthy whore like you ever again. Not when he finds out that you wanted me again.”

 You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this piece of shit wasn’t worth getting to you. You knew for a fact that Dean wasn’t going to believe a word that came out of his mouth. Dean trusted you more than anyone. You had that tight bond from the start. He’d want you to fight back with everything you had in you. That’s what you were going to do. Take all the pent up rage you harboured towards him and pile it onto him. He had it coming.

 You pushed yourself off the door as hard as you could. You sent yourself stumbling back, taking Ketch down with you. You removed your back from your shoulder, pushing it off to the side. It was only going to weigh you down and give him something to hold against you. You were quick in getting back on your feet, trying to keep yourself as calm as you could.

 “You know, it’s only a matter of time until Dean stops loving you anyways. You’ll come crawling back to me, begging me to take you back.”  

 “No he won’t,” you shook your head, trying to make a break for the door once more. Ketch kicked you down, effectively knocking you to the ground once more. “You can say whatever you want to me. This is going to end the same way.”

 “No it’s not,” he chuckled. “I always get what I want.”

 “No you don’t,” you let out a laugh. “That’s why we’re here. You can’t stand the fact that I left you. Not the other way around.”

 You got up once more, using the wall to keep you upright. He moved quickly, getting to his feet. You didn’t know what to expect from him. He was capable of anything and everything. You needed to get out of the room. You needed to put yourself as far away as you could possibly get from him.

 “You know, all of my friends saw you naked,” he smirked. “I used to show them all the naughty pictures of you to give them a good laugh.”

 “Too insecure to show them your tiny dick?” you clapped back. Before you could even register what was happening. His hand came up and striked you across the face.

 “I never felt bad for laying a hand on you,” he shrugged with a smile, grabbing your face in his hand. “You deserved it.” You brought your knee up, using as much force as you could to hit him where it hurt to get him off of you. You hoped that was what you needed to make a run for it. He doubled over in pain, cupping his junk in his hands before hitting the ground. This was it. Your time to go.

 You stalked over to the corner, reaching for your back so you could make a run for it. You needed to get home as fast as you could. Or better yet, make it to the garage so you were safe with Bobby and Dean. That would be the better place. You pulled your bag over your shoulder, reaching for the door knob once more, only to have something wrap around your foot, pulling you down.

 You felt a sharp pain in your forehead, along with something warm. You reached up to touch it, soon finding blood on the tips of your fingers. He had pulled you down and you hit your head on a desk on the way down.

 “You’re not going anywhere,” he breathed out, trying to catch his breath. He still had a hold on your foot. You needed to kick him again and move quickly. Your life depended on it now. No more fun and games. “You’re my little slut.”

 “You’re wrong,” you declared, reaching your foot down to kick him once more. He let out a loud cry, releasing your foot. You got up as quickly as you could, finally reaching the door to get out. The knob opened easily, and you took off running. You needed to put as much space between you and that room as possible. You could feel the blood trickling down the side of your head as you searched for a way - any way to get out of the library.

 “Y/N!” you heard a female voice call out. “Hey, hey! What happened?” Ruby. Thank god for Ruby.

 “Ketch,” you managed to say. “Ketch, back there.”

 “C’mon, we need to get you to the hospital to get you checked out,” she told you. “You’re going to be okay. He’s not going to hurt you again. I promise.”

                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “Sweetheart,” he breathed out, pulling you in closer to him.

 “I’m okay, Dean. For the most part anyways,” you assured him. “It was a little touch and go before you got here, but having you here now makes me feel safer.”

 “God, if I ever see him again,” he growled.

 “I don’t think you’ll be seeing him for a while,” you swallowed hard. “I’m filing for a restraining order now. I’m not going to run the risk of this happening again, and certainly not to you either. I want me and my family safe.”

 “I’m proud of you,” he said softly. “I just wish I was there to protect you.”

 “You were,” you stated.

 “What do you mean?” he furrowed his brows.

 “Dean, I never would have been able to stand up to him the way I did today if it wasn’t for you,” you started. “I never would have gotten out of there on my own.”

 “I think you would have,” he shrugged.

 “I don’t,” you swallowed hard. “I was so weak before. I never would have stood up to him the way I did today. Not to the extent I did. I never would have forced him off me or hit him back. Ever since the day I met you, you have given me strength, Dean. You’ve built me up so much that I believe in myself more than I ever have. You’ve given me a life worth living. You’ve given me confidence, and shown me what happiness feels like. I know I didn’t need you there to fight that battle for me. You taught me how to do it all on my own. I hate to admit it to you, but the day I found you was one of the best days of my life.”

 “It was the worst day of my life, and one of the greatest,” he confessed. “You are strong. You always have been. You just never saw it the way I did. Y/N, if I’ve given you a life worth living, you’ve given me so much more. You’ve given me everything.”

 “I was laying here, waiting for you to get here. My head wandering over everything,” you paused. “I just wanted to say thank you for showing me what it’s like. To love and be so loved by someone. Thank you for trusting me, and for making it so easy for me to trust you completely. Thank you for always making me laugh, and for making me feel cherished. I know when I’m with you that it’s where I belong. After trying so hard my entire life to get my mom to love me, and everyone else; I didn’t have to try with you.”

 “Because I love you for everything that makes you the way you are. I love you more and more everyday,” he half smiled. “I can say all the same things to you, Y/N. You know the life I’ve lived. You saved my life, literally. From that day on, things have only looked up. Until today. I never want to get a call telling me you’re in the hospital.”

 “Understandable,” you let out a dry laugh. “You remember a couple of months ago when I woke up in the middle of the night after a dream?”

 “Yeah, the one you told me you’d tell me about someday,” he nodded, resting his head carefully on top of yours.

 “I was pregnant in the dream,” you breathed out. “We were pregnant with a little girl in the dream. It was a Friday and I had just got home from work to see you. You kneeled down and kissed my stomach and told our baby that you loved her. I have the dream again every couple of months. Same one every time. Sometimes I’m a little further along. After today and finally shutting that final door on Ketch. It feels like it’s actually a place I’ll be able to get to one day.”

 “We are going to get there someday, Y/N,” he said softly. “I can promise you that someday we’re going to get there and we’re going to have a whole lot of fun getting there. I’ve had that dream with you for a long time.”

 “Really?”  

 “Yeah, really,” he nodded. “You have always been my future, Y/N. Right from the second I got in your car after that motel room. You told me that there is always someone out there wanting to read my story. You opened that first page and you kept turning the page. You have never given up on me. You’ve never let me down. I feel sorry for the people in your life that couldn’t see the things I see. I know that I’m going to love you for the rest of my life. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

 “Best book I’ve opened up,” you let out a chuckle. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

 “I love you more, Y/N Y/L/N,” he whispered. “How’s your head?”

 “I have a bit of a headache. They said that’s normal,” you informed him.

 “Alright,” he nodded. “That earns you a night of cuddling in a dark bedroom.”

 “Sorry to interrupt,” the female nurse said quietly as she stepped into the room. “I have your release papers here. But there is also someone here who’d like to see you. Dean, I’m going to need you to go over the papers since you’re taking her home. It just says that she has a minor concussion, and she’s to take it easy for the next ten days. Lots of rest, drink lots of water.”

 “Got it,” he nodded.

 “Who’s here?” you dared to ask.

 “Your mom. She caught wind that you were here when she was at the front desk. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you,” she smiled softly.

 “Alright,” you agreed. This should be good, you thought to yourself.

 “You sure about this?” Dean questioned.

 “I’m going all Cinderella Story. Only my ex and my actual mom in one day,” you declared.

 “Okay diner girl,” he joked.

 “I’ll let her in,” the nurse informed you before slipping out the door once more.

 You took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come. You knew it wasn’t going to be good. It was your mom for crying out loud. She never cared about you and she wasn’t about to start now. She was more than likely going to take Ketch’s side and you fully expected it.

 The door opened once more, revealing your mother as she stepped inside, shutting the door once more. She let out a sigh as soon as she saw you and you almost wanted to roll your eyes.

 “What the hell happened?” she raised her voice, making her way over to the hospital bed.

 “Ketch,” you stated nonchalantly.

 “Can I have a moment alone with my daughter?” she said coldly towards Dean.

 “Whatever you have to say to me, you’re saying in front of Dean too,” you declared.

 “Fine,” she scoffed. “You need to get yourself together, Y/N. This is getting to be too dramatic now. You had your fun and games. You had your freedom to do whoever you please. It's time to take action and get your life together. You graduate in three weeks. You were supposed to be married by now to a great man-”

 “Excuse me? You think Ketch is a great man? I’m in the hospital because of him right now. How hard is it for you to understand that I’m never going to be the kid you always wanted. I have dreams of my own, and standards that I set myself to. I’m not going to marry someone that you deemed as perfect for me when he hurt me more ways than I can count-”

 “You humiliated him!”

 “No, I didn’t. He did that to me when he knocked up Jo, after he paid her to have sex with him and his friend, while he was with me. I’m not going to be your barbie doll anymore. I’m not going to stay with someone who thinks it’s okay to get violent when he doesn’t get what he wants. I’m not going to marry someone who manipulated me and god knows how many other girls in his life because he’s bored.”

 “He was going to take care of you so you never had to worry about work or money. He was going to give you the best life possible-”

 “No he wasn’t. He was going to try to make me like the person you always wanted to be. I’m not like you and I’m never going to be. I like the small house I live in with the love of my life. I like eating fries, and pizza. I like road trips, and hotel rooms. Diner food, and cheap dates. I have never needed someone to have money or give me the life you wanted. I’m happier now than I have ever been and that’s because I have him. Someone who treats me like a queen and not a house maid. Someone who shows me what love is because my own mother couldn’t do that for me. And you’re never going to. You’re always going to see me as a disappointment and that’s fine. As far as I’m concerned, you have no place in my life. I don’t need any toxic people that aren’t going to cheer me on. I have dad. I have Dean and I have his family.”

 “Don’t come running back to me when he cheats on you-”

 “Like Ketch? Dean’s not like that,” you side-eyed her.

 “Yeah-”

 “I’m not in the slightest,” Dean added in. “You can’t even compare me to him when you don’t know the first thing about me. You don’t know the kind of person I am, or the relationship I have with your daughter. You don’t know that she saved my life, or that she’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know. You don’t know me and you don’t know your daughter, and that sucks for you. You’ll never get to experience the smile on her face when she’s happy to see you after a long day. You’ll never get to hear her laugh when she thinks something’s funny. You’ll never get the hugs that you need after a long day, because they make everything better. Worst of all, you’re not going to get to see her become the mother she always dreamed of having. You dictated so much of her life to try and cater to your needs instead of your own. But I can see that it didn’t work because there is nothing of you that I can see in her.”

 “Excuse me?” she growled.

 “I think it’s time you left. She has a concussion and you being here isn’t good for her head,” Dean told her, pulling you in closer.

 “Don’t you dare think about reaching out to me ever again, Y/N Y/L/N. I don’t ever want to hear from you again. As far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me.”

 “Fine by me. You were never a mother to me so I’m not missing anything,” you pointed out. With that, your mother stood up and stormed out of the room without another word. You finally released the breath you were holding and nuzzled into Dean a little bit more.

 “You okay?” he asked you.

 “Yeah,” you smiled into his neck. “I’ve got you and that’s all that matters.”

 “She’s going to regret that everyday for the rest of her life,” he muttered.

 “I know,” you agreed. “But if she can’t take my side and hear me out, then we’re never going to see eye to eye. You don’t deserve to be compared to Ketch. You’re a good man with a big heart. That’s the man I love. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

 “I’ve wanted to give her a piece of my mind since the day I first met her and she made you cry,” he revealed. “No one hurts my girl and gets away with it.”

 “I’m ready to go home now,” you breathed out.

 “Alright, let’s get you out of here then. We’ll go home and get you to bed. I promise you cuddles all night in the middle of our bed. Maybe even a few kisses.”

 “I want thirty seven kisses,” you chuckled.

 “I’ll double that and let you see me naked,” he teased.

 “What did I ever do without you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final Part Coming Sunday!

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response keeps this writer sharing content like this! 

[popurikat]

Ruin Teresa Agnes career. Aka: the Teresa analysis. Take all the time you need >:3

Okay I’m saying this right off the bat in case someone who stans this character misses the point above, but well I hate Teresa Agnes’ character in the maze series, both movie and book. However, in my analysis I will try to explain why her character misses the mark both as a villain and as a sympathetic character. So, to analyze her in depth, I’m putting this into parts under the read below. HEADS UP! As of now this analysis will exclude Death Cure Novel review as I have not finished that one, though it will mention one major spoiler I have been informed of from that book that I need to add for the sake of her character; other than that I will be discussing the other three novels before it (yes that is including the prequel Fever code) and the three movies from the series in broad ideas as I am not about to scavenge for quotes like I did in my last long post… well at least not as many.

Part 1: Teresa the master manipulator

No matter which way you look at it, Teresa has a way to bend others to her will, whether we blame WCKD for teaching her so well; or she used it as a means of survival, the idea still stands. Though she is extremely skilled in combat, especially at using spears and knives, Teresa’s biggest skill is her silver tongue, she can lie her way out of anything. Most evident is her betrayal in Scorch when she has such a good poker face that she not only convinces group B that Thomas is the problem they have to eradicate to get WCKD’s good side, but she also doesn’t hesitate to maim Thomas to the point of threatening to kill him: “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death” (Ch. 51). /sarcasm/ Charming ain’t she? /end of sarcasm/ The thing about lying though is that sometimes it backfires, for instance in the case of Group B, Harriet and Sonya hear Thomas out on why they shouldn’t kill him like Teresa asked, and when they listen and observe him they realize that Teresa is the worst and side with him; which in turn makes Teresa have to take drastic measures which involve getting Thomas alone with her to finish her duties to WCKD. Anyways, she even goes as far as to cement her betrayal by kissing Aris and crushing Thomas’ feelings by saying they were never a thing; she does this mind you without so much as breaking this character she builds up even though later she tries to say she still cares for Thomas. She is so convincing that Thomas has stated that: “Thomas had never heard such arrogance from her. She was either a really good actress or had started going crazy. Gained a split personality or two” (Ch. 45, Scorch). So yes, Teresa is too good at lying to the point I can say she can align as a Pathological Liar because she’s deceptive, goal-oriented in order to get HER way meaning she will not tolerate anyone interfering with her methods, she disregards the feelings of everyone around her, and she is constantly tweaking her excuses to adjust to the situations at hand. She is so good at lying she oozes self confidence when elaborating her defense by staring directly at the person she is talking to, unblinking, and will lash out in defense if someone calls her out on any inconsistencies. 

Mind you this isn’t the first instance we get at how well she turns the story to her favor. In Fever Code, she is the one to help put the Gladers in the maze and erase Thomas’ memories, which transfers in Maze Runner with how she openly gaslights everyone by pretending she doesn’t remember much about WCKD’s doings even though her memories are the only ones implied to be in tact based on that email she wrote in Fever Code: “I’ve just said my goodbye to Thomas, and he’s now in the Glade, safe and sound. Tomorrow, it will be my turn. Dr. Paige has asked me to send a final note to everyone, sharing my thoughts. I’m more than happy to do so. I feel good about the plan to leave my and Aris’s memories intact. You need someone in each group with whom you can communicate and plan during the phases of the Trials”(FC epilogue) and also based on this specific tid bit in Maze Runner where she slips she knows more than she lets on: “Though I guess a Griever can’t squeeze through this window, so I’ll be happy, right?” The mention of Grievers surprised him -- he didn’t remember talking about them to her yet. ‘Teresa are you sure you’ve forgotten everything?”(Ch.37, pg.246). Griever knowledge in general for Teresa in Maze seems to be code talk for “I am here to cause trouble, I kept my memories'' because during the sequence with the fiasco with the invasion of the species in Group A’s field, Teresa casually wakes up after the event’s commotion subsides earning Newt’s suspicion that maybe the map fire was not done on accident. Anyways, in keeping things down low and having an advantage in memory recollection, she ensures Thomas and co. don’t recall events correctly unless it's vital to her mission. And yes, Teresa will use violence and anger if necessary; she is perfectly fine with murder...”So we’re just going to kill them all? [...] They’ll die anyway [...] No, Tom, It’s be tough now or everyone dies later”(Ch. 47, Fever Code). Or even this small aside on her stance on death overall: “This is kind of fun,’ Teresa whispered to Thomas. ‘Walking along with my new friend.’ He looked at her in bemused disbelief. ‘Really? You drop that bombshell about kids dying and now you act like it’s no big deal? You’re so weird.’ He tried to make a joke out of it to hide just how horrified he’s been by her second question” (Ch. 9, pg. 55, FC). And she has killed, mind you, yes they were cranks, but they are still humanly conscious. Thomas in comparison shows pity about the fact that they were still human, Teresa didn’t bat an eye. And now, you might say “Hey Popuri, you know, she’s just willing to kill if it means saving everyone else right?” to which I go, sure she’s stated that if it means saving the rest it doesn’t matter if thousands or so die. However, she is also clear that she only cares about Thomas’ survival in specific, no one else; which immediately gets falsified by her “lie” in Scorch, thus she will kill anyone if need be no matter how close they are. What I’m saying is that not even Teresa has a clear path in why she manipulates everyone when she can so easily be convinced to make elaborate murder scenarios at the snap of WCKD’s fingers. She claims it's to save her “crush” but will not hesitate to shed his blood and drag him across the desert. 

She claims it's to help WCKD, that WCKD is good, but she has bore witness time and time again that the facility makes countless errors and knows there's no REAL cure available … and Teresa is a smart kid, so why continue believing a hopeless façade? Because she's desperate to cling to some hope? No. Teresa doesn’t do the whole hope thing, she's convinced WCKD is good period, there's nothing else. So, even if there is no evidence anymore she will fight tooth and nail for something she herself is trapped in because no one will want to be there for the girl who treated her only connections as poorly as WCKD treated her. Therefore, is it because she can’t help it then? I can only imagine that's the case. She’s willingly this puppet for WCKD, she could’ve escaped them any time she liked like Thomas and co. did, but she prefers to stay on the burning train even if it means her own demise because she refuses to admit any of her actions were wrong, the truth will NOT set her free because she cannot confront it. 

Moving forward, I wanna delve more into the whole telepathy dealio she specifically shares with Thomas and we actually never really learn if she can talk to others as she evades the question when it does arrive in book. The only certain thing is that if you have a chip, you can talk using your mind. Now this would be a fine plot device, but in the hands of someone who wants to control your every move and thought, well....”Thomas, this is Teresa. He was going crazy. He was actually going crazy. It was the oldest and most common symptom -- hearing voices in your head. ‘Uh...’, he said aloud. Is this working? Is this working? The last words landed between his eyes like a thunderbolt. The pain knocked his legs out from under him and he collapsed onto the floor. Never had the world felt so fluid beneath him, as if nothing solid existed, no form, no substance“ (Ch.20 , pg. 112, FC). So first things first, Thomas hates it when he gets a mind message, he feels extreme pain when someone tries it, this is recurrent throughout the series. He has told her a few times not to contact him through that method, but it's their little secret and besides, if he told anyone who would believe him? “Teresa shrugged. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you? They’d think we’re crazy“(Ch.36, Maze Runner). So we have a situation where Teresa has a huge way of overpowering Thomas, she can send images to his head without his consent and yell into his mind even if it means it hurts him. And the kicker? She doesn’t teach him how to use it on purpose. And when he tries to contact her? Well depending on her mood she can either be flirty or... well this: “Teresa? A pause. Teresa? A longer pause. Teresa! He shouted it mentally, his whole body tensing with effort. Teresa! Where are you? Please answer me! Why aren’t you trying to contact me? Ter- /GET OUT OF MY HEAD!/ The words exploded inside his mind, so vivid and so strangely audible within his skull that he felt lances of pain behind his eyes and in his ears. He sat up in bed, then stood. It was her. It was definitely her. Teresa? He pressed the first two fingers of both hands against his temples. Teresa? /WHOEVER YOU ARE , GET OUT OF MY SHUCK HEAD!/ Thomas stumbled backward until he sat down once again on the bed. His eyes were closed as he concentrated. Teresa, what are you talking about? It’s me. Thomas. Where are you? /SHUT UP!/ It was her, he had no doubt, but her mental voice was full of fear and anger /JUST SHUT UP! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! LEAVE ME ALONE!/ But, Thomas began completely at a loss [...] /LEAVE ME ALONE, OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOUR THROAT. I SWEAR IT. “ (Ch.8, FC). *sarcasm* ah yes, nothing says true love like a death threat that actually comes to near fruition later in that same book and pretending to not know that person only to later, upon meeting Thomas acting like a sobbing mess, kiss him and disappear...she sure knew him then huh? *end of sarcasm* Having a power imbalance in a relationship is, you know, not good, especially when you’re making it so you gaslight the person anytime they know something you don’t want them to or to have control over the situation. Teresa does this OFTEN. To the point that it makes Thomas so emotionally attached to her he finds it hard to admit he doesn’t need her, even when he’s been badly hurt. 

 Part 2: Your past does not excuse your bad actions in the present. Period.

Now let me clear something up, PAST ABUSE does not CONDONE you to HURT OTHERS in turn, let alone allows you to use it as an excuse to justify wrong actions. I am aware Teresa, aka Deedee, was abandoned due to an outbreak of the flare at an early age; had her name changed, was confined to a room with Thomas as her only friend who was the same age as her, and openly manipulated by adults to believe WCKD is good. But you know who else goes through the same treatment? LITERALLY EVERY KID EXPOSED TO THIS EXPERIMENT! AND THEY DON’T THREATEN EACH OTHER IF THEY DON’T GET THEIR WAY OR KILL EACH OTHER. And this is not said in order to justify that everyone with the same experiences will have the same reactions, I understand stressors and trauma affect everyone differently and acknowledge everyone needs a different support system. But like, for peeps sake, Thomas who is Teresa’s exact foil as a narrative play to show that they are more alike than they realize which is the flimsiest proof to grab at as to why they need each other to an extent; literally has the exact same story cut and paste from her and he has more empathy and compassion to those around him, than Teresa ever shows. WHY? If the idea is to show Teresa has hardened from her own experiences, she should in theory act more like Brenda, a renegade civilian that isn’t soft for anyone except the boy who will save her. I know in my explanation I compare Thomas and Teresa a lot, but it's hard not to when Teresa, though having Aris as another buddy who is also in on the whole WCKD scheme, still decides to CLING to Thomas to be her saving grace. And the thing is, even if she only ever trusted Thomas in this whole experiment, then why not confide in him or tell him what is happening? She doesn’t LISTEN to anything he says to her in turn. YES, Teresa knows more about the situation as a whole, YES she is capable of doing things by herself, but she never trusts anyone. You’d think she would be more open to talking to the kids her age or be the quiet type because she knows what will happen to them all if they don’t comply; but no, I can’t even describe her personality other than stoic one moment and complete chaos in the next, and she does that switch VERY often. But sure, she prefers to skew half truths and put everyone in danger because ….WCKD? She’s supposed to be the intellectual one and she doesn’t know how to spread her capabilities, no wonder Brenda is introduced in the second book.

It's also incomprehensible to me why she feels it necessary to follow WCKD in general when she was the first to know of all their evil doings? “They were at the door when Teresa stopped and asked Dr. Leavitt a question. Two, actually. And it was enough to change the man’s demeanor completely. ‘What’s a swipe trigger? And is it true that seven kids died during the implant surgeries?’ The questions stunned Thomas. He turned to look at Teresa as the doctor fumbled for an answer. ‘How...’ the man began, then stopped, realizing at the same moment what Thomas did: Teresa had stumbled on something major. Something true”(Ch. 9, pg.54, FC). You’d think she would have the maturity to one up WCKD and knock them from the inside out to save the one she “loves'' but she doesn’t, instead she abides by the facility...even when knowing they are the ones who made the Flare in the first place. Call me naïve, but wouldn’t it make sense that if she wants to help stop the Flare than it would be in her best interest to hold Ava at an inch of her life (and Ratman) until she fesses up how to reverse the Flare, only to then realize oops there never was a possibility for a cure ~, but in knowing this finally be rid of the one thing holding her back? Again, someone can argue that hey, she thinks the people who made it HAVE to eventually find the termination and either way what possible choice does she have when her own manipulators control her? But remember, in the end it's always been a huge experiment to eliminate the human populace, and that's motive enough to rebel and/or snap at the hand that feeds when it's gone too far. EVERYONE has a breaking point mentally and physically, THOMAS BREAKS DOWN SEVERAL TIMES IN THE SPAN OF THE SERIES BECAUSE HE CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF THE EXPERIMENTS AND THE REASON TO CONTINUE SURVIVING ONLY ON WCKDS TERMS. And it drives me insane that Teresa would openly keep the Gladers from knowing about their procedures when she has known the longest from everyone else! Oh? You want evidence that Teresa keeps her memories intact and lies about ever losing them, sure! Here, have a morsel: “Teresa..., he started to say, but then stumbled a void. He had no idea how to respond. Did you....did you already know this stuff? /I’ve heard rumors./ And you never told me? He was stunned. How could she have known this and never said anything? She was his best friend. The first person he went to with everything. /I just don’t see the point. Yes, we have reason to hate these people. But how is dwelling on the past going to help anybody? The solution is what matters./ Thomas had never been so blindsided in his life.../I’m really tired, Tom. Can we talk about it tomorrow?/ She was gone from his mind before he could respond [...] The next day Teresa refused to talk about it, emphasizing that she’d rather focus on the future than the past Dr. Paige also blew it off, saying that those decisions had been made well before her time. it was almost like they were both determined to forget” (Ch. 43, pg. 239, FC). TALK ABOUT BECOMING THE ONE THING THAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OVERCOME. Like goodness sake, Teresa was part of the prep and launch of putting each Glader into the Maze and she never doubted it, never fussed over how this was bad. The excuse of “this is for their own good, my own good, and the world’s” can only go so far when you are in an environment that is full of violence and trauma, you expect me to not believe Teresa just never broke down and truly analyzed how she can use her lies to one up her own abusers? She’s supposed to be this “empowering” female character and she can’t even get THAT right. 

Part 3: How come the films did it better?

The film actually humanizes her a lot more and makes her motives at least justifiable in a fit of protecting the one you love. I know a lot of people dislike her character in the movies because it's more frail and sympathetic, but it was a very good way to justify her motives and plan out her actions from point A to point B. What do I mean by that? Let's take a look. Film Teresa enters the Maze without the ability to communicate to Thomas through telepathy, she still has her memories and she is still in close contact with WCKD, that much is still the same. Her motive though is to get everyone out of the maze and into stage 2 where the facility can round up the ones who have been viewed to be immune through the Maze Trials. So far so good, but pretty on par with the book right? Well, here is where it differs for the best. On the last act of Scorch, Teresa tells Thomas WITH SENTIMENT, no more lies and no more hiding that she contacted WCKD because it was needed to keep Thomas alive and well. WOW, notice how she doesn’t emotionally manipulate him and her innocent nature of trusting the scientists of her world to cure everyone actually leads her to be more sympathetic and relatable to the audience? In Death Cure, she doesn’t expect Thomas or ANYONE to forgive her for her actions and in fact takes her actions at face value. This Teresa is more understanding of the phrase “You can change, but those you’ve wronged have no obligation to forgive you” than book Teresa ever will. To the point that when she finds Thomas in the city and has bore witness to the startling realization that there indeed could be no cure cause her patient flares back up; of which is intentionally a little girl to reflect without showing that she can relate to the Flare stripping away her childhood, she then betrays WCKD by allowing the Gladers to infiltrate the facility, thus redeeming her when she dies in the explosion. Thus, making her in the film's eyes an anti-hero. As Skquill once told me, “Film teresa really did want to create a better future, and wanted to help people and that's what I like about film teresa. It didn't work. It literally blew up in her face. But, she tried, and she saved Thomas in the end.”

The only reason I don’t like Teresa even in the film is because she is kind of a wet blanket there, barely expresses any emotion beyond stoic token girl that cries sometimes, and she could’ve saved herself the whole betrayal arc if she just learned to better communicate her intentions instead of sobbing pathetically every time no one wants anything to do with her for her ill doings.Not to mention she still maintains her personality to a degree from the book (just call her diet Teresa really) because once both enter the sequence in Scorch where they ran out of pawns to move around they claim that they did what they had to do and they wouldn’t change a thing, they’d do it again if they could. It is only when both are at death’s door with no other choice that they give in some noble sacrifice at a chance for redemption, which is well too little too late. And in the opposing corner of knowing some people blame Thomas for not just allowing himself to be experimented on since the beginning, my rebuttal to be fair is that Teresa just again, sucked at explaining herself and the intentions of WCKD until it was deserving of a literal showdown bloodbath that evidently Tommy boy had to take defense to and threaten his life if anyone else died due to miscommunications. ALSO, IT'S HIS OWN BODY, HE CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS WITH IT INSTEAD OF HAVING OTHERS DICTATE WHAT HE NEEDS TO DO.

BUT ANYWAYS, book Teresa in comparison has even less characterization, I am sorry to say. SHE'S BARELY IN SCORCH AS IS, only coming out toward the climax because before that she is crying and kissing Thomas before going MIA for 45 chapters. Ouch. And when she does appear? She purposefully causes trouble that leads to essentially no where, we could’ve gotten to the safe haven way sooner without her interference.

Part 4: Is Book Teresa a good female character?

 The simple answer? No.

The slightly longer answer? Even if I were to place her as the villain of the story she’s...not that good? Mostly because again, she acts as a puppet for a rich, governmental organization that basically implants how she should think and act. YET, somehow she is still smart, brave, lethal, and *ahem* UNBELIEVABLY BEAUTIFUL WITH HER LONG HAIR THAT IS BASICALLY DESCRIBED THE EXACT SAME WAY AS BRENDA’S, WHO FYI IS THE SLIGHTLY BETTER FEMALE LEAD THAT STILL CAN’T HOLD A COIN TO SONYA OR HARRIET (the background characters) THOUGH. I also need to say plainly, she has no gradual growth, she remains by her ideals and thinks she's right constantly in all but one book...which is one book too late and thus made meaningless. By no means is Teresa a mary sue, yet she still manages to be a stereotype in Maze Runner: “If you’re going to decipher a hidden code from a complex set of different mazes, I’m pretty sure you’ll need a girl’s brain running the show”(ch.43); then again going most of the book in Scorch missing, and then unceremoniously gets crushed by a boulder in Death Cure as her final hurrah for all the bs she caused isn’t really a means to become a memorable character. This is the female supportive character I’m supposed to relate to and or praise for her dastardly, cunning intellect?  If I were looking for a strong female with various flaws and a tragic end I would saunter over to Hunger Games’ Katniss instead. Teresa fails as a character the moment that her sole purpose is to be so emotionally/physically attached to Thomas that her whole character gets washed down the gutter so badly that Kill Order had to be made to justify her actions through a tragic backstory. In no way or form was I able to entertain this character as a favorite because she is everything I don’t want to be or befriend, and even as again, a “villain” she doesn’t exactly do much as the real masterminds are Ava and her cronies who MADE the disease and the trials. Even going as far as calling her an anti-hero feels off because none of her actions deliberately affect the plot or progress of our main character’s story. But that's kind of the thing with D*shner’s characterization of females overall? They’re either brutish or simply there. I don’t think any of them even pass the Bechdel Test. 

Final thoughts:

I don’t like Teresa, I would personally fight her in a Denny’s parking lot at 3am if I could. I recall saying multiple times how she should just “shut up” as I read Maze and Scorch because most of her quotes are not memorable nor important. But in no way do I blame the character for the angst and tragedy of the novels overall. D*shner just...doesn’t seem to know how to make honest character growth and a decent plot, thus, in turn the story and its leads suffer tremendously as the narrative gets stretched out. (me yelling in the distance about how Crank Palace was made for clout). HOWEVER, In no way should my analysis stop people from finding Teresa as interesting or “cool”, I actually ENCOURAGE anyone that stans her to explain why to me because I personally don’t understand why beyond thinking “I just think she's chaotically evil and her treachery is fun to witness”. COOL IF THAT'S THE REASON OR EVEN IF YOU RE-WROTE HER TO BE BETTER! I just personally don't find her presence necessary for plot progression or as a love interest in general. It in fact sucks that she gets essentially replaced by Brenda almost as soon as the opportunity arises. In turn though, for others who don’t like her either as much as me, feel free to add onto this post any other “Teresa sucks and here's why” moments as I know there's a lot of moments out there to quote or paraphrase. Thanks for reading~

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Sleep Therapy

A Frederick Chilton x Reader fanfic written in collaboration with the lovely and talented @pascalispretty​ . I can’t believe that we have been writing smut with each other since before we went under quarantine and this is the first time we’ve actually gotten our acts together and published it. I refuse to apologize for this, y’all were warned lol. I now dedicate this to my favorite prickly, grumpy, lonely, little asshole man, Frederick (never Freddy) Chilton.

Part One of the series A Sign That Someone Loves Me Part Two: Laugh With Me a Little

Warnings: sex, somnophelia, drug use, inappropriate use of prescription drugs, over stimulation, dubious consent, references to voyeurism, fingering, oral (female receiving), Fred being Fred

Rating: yeah, this is definitely M folks  Word Count: 6111 sorry not sorry lol Summary: It’s been a long week for you and your fiancé and you’re exhausted. Yet Dr. Chilton has always been a firm advocate for the unorthodox, and a little sleep therapy might do you both a world of good. 

The project that you had been working on all week was finally finished. No more early mornings, no more late nights, no more spending more time at the office with the coworkers you were at best acquaintances with than at home with your lovable asshole fiancé. Said lovable asshole fiancé who had also had a busy week at work. 

You had woken up this morning with the intention of dragging him to your bedroom as soon as you got home and demanding he make up for an entire week without sex, but when you finally open the door and toss your keys on the table, the thought of doing anything more strenuous than crawling into bed was too much. 

You find Fred waiting for you in the kitchen, and by the looks of his discarded suit coat and rolled up sleeves, he had beaten you home by at most a half an hour. He had already helped himself to dinner, judging by the empty takeout carton on the kitchen counter. He has the good grace to at least look guilty about having eaten without you.

“Hey, you. I didn’t know what time you’d be back, and I was ravenous.” He says, by way of an apology. You’re too tired to even tease him about it; you just want to get out of your work clothes, and fall into bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m too tired to eat anyway.” Your eyelids are heavy as you strip off your jacket and kick your shoes off, letting them fall next to the kitchen island. He frowns at you as you kiss the side of his head and give his hair a brief ruffle (it was soft and nearly product free at the end of the day and, even exhausted, you were incapable of not playing with it a little) before squeezing his shoulder and making your way out of the kitchen and back to the stairs. 

“I’m going to head up to bed, today kicked my ass.” You call over your shoulder, not expecting, but not entirely unsurprised either to hear the legs of the kitchen stool he had been sitting on scrape across the floor as Fred stands to follow you up to your room. He grabs your fingers as the two of you make your way up the stairs and presses them gently. 

You throw yourself onto the giant bed Fred insists is entirely necessary, not bothering to draw the curtains, thinking that you’ll just rest for a few minutes before getting undressed. Fred sits on the bed next to you and rests a hand on your leg. His hands are so broad and warm, and as tired as you are, you still sigh at the light touch. 

“Come cuddle me.” You mumble, feeling the mattress shift beneath you as Fred settles himself comfortably beside you, resting his head on your tummy. It’s an entirely deliberate choice of position on his part; he enjoys you playing with his hair almost as much as you enjoy playing with it, and you don’t hesitate to slide your fingers back into his thick black hair. 

He grumbles happily and rests more of his body against you, trapping one of your thighs between his legs as he lies half on top of you. As exhausted as you are, you don’t miss the little flick of his hips against your thigh; clearly, it’s been a long week for him as well. 

You smile sleepily down at the top of his head, fingers digging into his hair, deliberately attempting to solicit another twitch of his cock against your leg. You were so tired but he was so warm and heavy and you loved the feeling of him hardening against you. And just because you aren’t in any kind of shape to be participating doesn’t mean that Fred can’t have some fun- he’s proven that exhaustion and even sleep aren’t really barriers to his getting the two of you off before. 

More than once, you’ve woken up to his face between your thighs and halfway to a breathless climax. Even in the early days of your relationship his desire to watch you, in any sense, was evident; he liked cuddling you close and watching you fall asleep as much as he liked watching through the glass while you showered. 

You feel the satisfied and happy noises Fred is making deep in his chest where he’s pressed against you when you tug a little on his hair and drag your nails gently across his scalp. The low, almost vibrating purr that emanates from the broad body on top of you is nearly as exciting as the hands he trails up your torso to settle on top of your breasts- rubbing across your nipples through your bra and your shirt. Fred digs his face, with it’s pointy sharp nose and it’s pouty lips perpetually drawn into a smirk, into your belly and hums quietly. 

“I thought you were tired.” He murmurs against your stomach, nuzzling against your skin where the hem of your shirt has ridden up. As good as he feels- his comforting bulk on top of you, those exquisite hands on your breasts, the soft mouth against your abdomen- you know you’re far too tired to do anything. You’re so comfortable, sprawled out in the sunlight streaming through your open windows, that you feel like you’re going to drift away any second. 

“I am. Why don’t I have a nap; you can always have some fun of your own.” You manage, having to fight back a yawn in order to finish your sentence. Fred hums contentedly as you carry on playing with his hair, the silky strands so soft under your fingers. 

“As much as I would love to take you up on that,” Fred murmurs against your tummy, and gives your breasts a gentle squeeze, “I know that you’d never sleep through what I want to do to you. And you really do need to catch up on your sleep.” With a long sigh that feels warm on your exposed skin, he moves to roll off you. Tired though you might be, you don’t want Fred to stop. Instead, you clutch at his shoulders as inspiration strikes. 

“Don’t you still have those horse tranquilizers locked in your office?” 

“They aren’t ‘horse tranquilizers’.” He replies snippily, though his imperious tone is utterly belied by the image of his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions as he lifts his head up a little to look at you. You can’t resist a quiet snort at the sight of him, normally so compulsive about his grooming, and you shoot back, trying not to laugh at your “dignified” lover,

“Might as well be. I nearly slept for 14 hours the last time you gave me one of those.” He looks up at you, green eyes soft and surprisingly not offended, chin digging into your belly and shrugs. He rests his cheek on your bare skin again and you sigh, thinking that that’s the end of that as he nuzzles into your stomach, only to watch him sit bolt upright when he catches your meaning. Those sharp green eyes search your face intently. 

“You want me to drug you, and then have sex with you while you’re unconscious?” He says incredulously, the image of outrage only spoiled by the fact that you can still feel his half-hard cock against your thigh.

You shrug one shoulder at him, limbs loose and fuzzy as you try to stay awake enough to soothe his now very ruffled feathers and convince him that this is a good idea. 

“You like going down on me when I’m asleep. Why is this any different?” You ask. He stares at you, eyes narrowed, hands on your legs, silent for a moment. 

“Normally the point of that is to eat you out until you wake up. Not deliberately put you to sleep to eat you out.” He mumbles, sounding more hesitant than rejecting the idea outright. 

“True,” you grant, rubbing the backs of his hands. “But tell me you wouldn’t like getting to tell me all about the fun time we had when I wake up in the morning.” You see and feel his cock twitch at the idea of describing in detail eating you out- talking was one of life’s greatest pleasures for your loquacious asshole. 

“It doesn’t have to be a whole pill. And I do want this Fred, I swear. But if you aren’t in the mood...” You trail off and watch him carefully. You can practically see him weighing the idea up in his mind, the thought of being able to touch you and fuck you while you slept, without fear of waking you, clearly interesting him. 

“Well, Doctor Chilton?” You ask, settling yourself more comfortably against the pillows. “Am I going to have to sign a medical consent form to convince you?” He rarely looks so torn; worked up further by your use of his title, yet still bothered by something. 

“What if I hurt you? You won’t be able to tell me if something’s wrong.” He says eventually, sounding so adorably concerned that if you were less tired, you would have sat up and pulled him in for a cuddle.

Instead you smile softly at him and tug on his hands to pull him down to you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he buries his face in your neck. 

“Oh, Fred,” you soothe. “Darling you won’t hurt me, you never hurt me. You’re always so careful.” He shakes his head, nose rubbing against your neck. 

“I might though, and you wouldn’t be able to tell me to stop.” You stroke his hair gently. Fighting sleep with him so warm and heavy and soft on top of you was getting difficult. 

“Then be gentle. Like you always are. And think of it this way, you can check me out like you sometimes want to afterwards, and I won’t complain or laugh at you about it,” you try, smiling down at the top of his head.

Once, after a rougher session than Fred usually indulged in, he had asked you questions about pain or discomfort, while trying to check you for internal bruising. You allowed the questions but when he tried to shuffle down the bed to stick his fingers back in and look, you pinched his ear and shoved his hands away. 

“I’m a trained medical professional you know,” he grumped at you, worried and offended now. You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Oh yeah? How many years ago did you do a rotation in gynecology? I’m fine Fred, go to sleep.”

You know you have him then. He groans low against your skin, before leaning back so he can look you in the eyes. 

"You promise me that you want this?" He asks sincerely, his fingers curling under your chin and encouraging you to look up at him. You nod sleepily, fighting off a yawn.

“I promise. As long as you tell me about it in the morning. I want all the details." You add, squeezing him as best as you can given how tired you are. Fred gives you a long look, and kisses you softly before rolling off of you and getting off the bed. He disappears, and you have to fight to stay awake without the distraction he provided, your eyelids so heavy you feel like you might well pass out before he gets back. It only takes him a few minutes to reappear, carrying a glass of water and a pill. 

"I'm only giving you half." He says, putting it carefully into your hand as you sit up enough to be able to take it. It's bitter on your tongue, so you swallow it quickly, washing it down with the water before he can have any second thoughts. He watches you like a hawk as you lie back down. 

"It'll take about an hour to kick in." You hardly hear him, falling back against the pillows and pulling the covers around you out of habit. Drowsily, you think that you should have undressed first, but you're too tired to pay it much mind. You feel Fred pressing delicate kisses to your face, one over each eyelid, one on the tip of your nose, and the barest brush of his lips to your own.

"Sweet dreams, my dear."

~X~

You wake up slowly the next morning, warm and cocooned in seemingly every blanket in your bedroom plus a heavy still snoring psychiatrist. The early morning blueish grey sunlight filters through the big windows Fred loves so much and lands on the bed next to you. Fred’s arms are loose around you, his body draped halfway on top of yours. 

You smile faintly when you notice you’re wearing one of his shirts under all of the blankets and that your hair is done up in one of the ridiculously elaborate braids that he likes to show off with on occasion. Yes Fred, you have very long, very clever fingers, congratulations, you think to yourself with an indulgent smile. You shift your legs, stretching out and tangling them with his, and Fred’s arms tighten around you.

"G'morning, Sleeping Beauty." He mumbles against your collarbone, giving you a little squeeze as he stirs. You take his use of the nickname as a good sign; certainly your body feels pleasantly loose, the hint of an ache between your thighs telling you that at least something happened last night. Pressing your lips against the top of Fred's head, you shiver a little as his fluffy hair tickles your face. 

"Morning yourself." You sigh happily, wrapping yourself around him and trying to encourage him to lie more directly on top of you. You're itching to ask him what happened last night, but you're not entirely sure yet if he's still half-asleep. He lets you pull at him, his warm, broad bulk settling over you and pressing you comfortably into the mattress as you wrap your legs around him. He must be fully awake; he pulls the collar of his shirt away from your neck so he can press a kiss there.

He continues to kiss every spot on your neck and collarbone that he can reach without moving his head and you sigh, relaxing under him. You can feel every inch of him on your body- the soft scratch of his stubble on your chest, the bare skin of his legs brushing against yours, the soft cotton of his boxer briefs rubbing deliciously against your clit. You snicker quietly. Of course he didn’t put your underwear back on. 

“Mmm, feel good this morning,” you mumble quietly, eyes closed. He nips at your collarbone and you feel a smirk stretch across his lips against your skin. 

“You should,” he mutters. “You certainly came enough.” He brags proudly and you’d slap his shoulder but the light ache between your legs feels so good you know he isn’t lying. With a groan, you stretch out beneath him and slide your fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, letting your nails scratch ever so lightly against his scalp. Fred makes a soft, satisfied little noise in the back of his throat at the feeling; he must have missed you playing with his hair last night. Instead of answering straight away, he drags his tongue up your throat, tracing the line of your jugular vein and making you shiver at the sensation. 

“Does it bother you that you don’t know?” His breath is hot against the side of your jaw, and your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair. “Or does it turn you on?” He practically purrs, nipping at your earlobe. 

You pant lightly, shivering, your fingers clenching in his hair as his hands find their way inside of his shirt, long clever fingers dancing across your skin and brushing quickly over your nipples. You can feel yourself getting wet as his teeth nibble gently on your ear and the soft hairs at the back of your neck prickle at the feeling. 

“Turns me on.” Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and he nods. You don’t have the wherewithal right now to try and tease him; he’s so warm and heavy on top of you, and you feel so loose and satiated. It hardly matters if your words go straight to his ego. It sounds as though he more than earned the right to be smug last night. 

“Oh I can tell. I can feel you all over the front of my shorts,” he informs you, voice deeper and his erection growing between you. “Well, I suppose telling you all about it was part of the deal.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers, “You were such a good girl, you came six times last night.”

“Six?” You ask with a whimper; no wonder you feel so loose and languid and just a little sore. Your last record was four before you had had to drag Fred away from you by the hair and plead with him tearfully that you needed him to stop. Your legs tighten around him reflexively and  he nods, his nose bumping against your cheekbone. 

“Six.” Fred confirms smugly, pinching one of your nipples and making you gasp. “I wanted to try for more, but you were starting to get...twitchy.” He says with a snicker. His fingers slide lower, working open the buttons of the shirt you’re wearing. Every brush of his knuckles against your skin sends a jolt of heat directly to the center of you, and you gasp as his fingers move lower and lower down your body. 

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have seen yourself. All pliable and pretty for me.” The smirk on his face is downright feral, and you can’t help yourself as you grind your hips up against him. “You were doing that in your sleep, you know. Rubbing yourself up against my pants while I was playing with your nipples. I thought you were going to make yourself come from just that when I started sucking them.” He sounds so smug and self-satisfied, but you want more. You’re practically about to beg him to let you record what he’s saying, god his voice does things to you that you’re pretty sure are criminal offenses in some states, but you choose your words with more care than that. 

“Start at the beginning. Please Fred, tell me everything.” Your soft little plea is accompanied by another tug on his hair, another little buck of your hips. He hums against your cheek, his palms cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. His hands are warm, and broad, and you arch your back into his touch, desperate to press as much of yourself against him as possible. 

“Should I walk you through it? Step by step?” You moan and nod sharply, his nose dragging against your face. He kisses your cheek and ruts his hips softly against yours, the drag of his semi-hard cock against your clit making the muscles in your legs spasm and jerk. “Well,” he begins. “I held you while you fell asleep, that was nice. You know how cuddly you get when you’re sleepy.” He nips at your nose and kisses you quickly on the mouth. 

“That didn’t take too long, and god you were so soft in my arms.” His thumbs brush across your nipples and you gasp, hips arching into him and his hard cock again. “Then I kissed you, all over your face, all over your neck, as I unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it across the room.” 

He presses his forehead to yours and one of his hands leaves your breast and comes up to your chin. He turns your face to the side and whispers, “Look. Open your eyes and look, it’s over there, hanging off that armchair.” You look and sure enough there’s your blouse, hanging half off the chair he loves to sit in when he watches you get yourself off. He’s using the same tone of voice as he does when he sits back and orders you to take your clothes off and touch yourself, and it goes straight to your core. 

Fred chuckles right into your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Your pants were next. They seemed easier to slip off, and I didn’t know if the pill had fully kicked in enough. Once they were gone, I knelt between your legs, and just looked at you for a while. Deciding what to do with you.” You can picture it so clearly; Fred, still practically fully dressed, while you were splayed out half-naked and unconscious for him. It’s a mental image that is far too attractive for what it is. The enlightened feminist in you knows you shouldn’t be as turned on as you are by it, but when has that ever stopped you exploring some of Fred’s less conventional kinks. 

“I think I ended up kissing every inch of you last night. I started at one ankle, and covered you in kisses, all the way up to your forehead and then back down your other leg.” With the hand that’s still cupping your face, he brushes his fingertips delicately over your lips. “You were smiling in your sleep.” Fred says smugly, his smirk only broadening when you open your mouth and start to suck lightly on the tips of his fingers. If it weren’t liable to make him too breathless to continue, you’d offer to suck his dick while he talks, but you’ll happily settle instead for those gorgeously long fingers of his. 

“I could see how wet you were through your underwear by then. I’d barely touched you, but you were already soaked.” He groans, long and pleased, as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can still smell yourself on them, but all you can taste is him so he must have beaten you to licking them off. 

“Fuck, you were so wet, I didn’t even bother trying to put them back on. Even after I spent hours on you they were still damp.” You moan around his fingers and he squeezes your breast. “I slipped them off of you and spread your legs and, god, love, you were laying there so sweet and nice and ready for me.” He lets go of your breast and runs his hand down your side, stopping to hang onto your hip.

“I didn’t start there though. I still had to get your bra off- you didn’t even stir when I broke the clasp.” He squeezes at your hip, but makes no move to stop your little thrusts as you try and grind against his cock, frustrated at the lack of friction. 

“I spent so long on just your breasts; kissing them all over, sucking and biting at your nipples.You absolutely soaked the front of my pants, trying to rut up against me.” He says with a low chuckle. You can’t even fault him for sounding so smug; clearly you didn’t even need to be conscious to be desperate for him. 

“And when I just couldn’t wait anymore, I gave in and started licking that sweet little cunt of yours.” Fred pinches your thigh, and you moan as best as you can around his fingers. For having seemed so hesitant about the idea at first, he had clearly taken to it eagerly. 

You could feel just how eager he was to just tell you about it by the way he was pressed hard and hot against your cunt, letting you grind your hips against him in a desperate bid to get off. Except for the occasional tiny thrust that he seemed incapable of resisting, Fred held absolutely still and let you try to work off of him yourself. 

“And oh, you tasted so sweet. Feeling your thighs twitch next to my head every time my nose brushed or bumped against your clit- because I had to clean off such a messy, wet workspace first, I couldn’t just go for the treat I really wanted- was delightful. Every time I licked over your cunt, or dipped the tip of my tongue inside a little you’d twitch, but besides those little spasms you didn’t move away from my mouth at all. Why, I hardly had to do any work at all darling.” You drag your teeth across his knuckles and his fingers dig into your thigh as he lets out a loud gasp, rocking his erection, still trapped in those stupidly tight boxer briefs, hard against you. 

“Fuck, yes, those were orgasms numbers one and two; just me, cleaning up your mess before we could really get to the main event. And I took my time.” You were sure he did.

“Normally number three is when you start pulling at my hair like you want to scalp me.” He teases, dragging his nose along your neck and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you. Even after spending half the night indulging in you, it’s as though he still can’t get enough of you. 

“But last night, you were such a good girl, letting me suck on your clit and fuck you with my tongue as much as I wanted. I even spat on your cunt, just to see whether that would get more than a twitch out of you. I think it just made you jump.” Another low chuckle rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your neck, and you whine around the fingers filling your mouth. The idea of Fred doing that is too much; you slip one hand from his hair and scratch at his back as you try to pull him, impossibly, closer to you. 

“That was number three and number four.” He says, hissing slightly at the catch of your nails against his skin. “By then, I thought I’d conduct a little experiment. I wanted to see if you were wet enough for me to get four of my fingers inside of you.” Oh and the thought of that, combined with the rock of your clit against his cock and the drag of his underwear against that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from last night, is just too much. 

You’re on the brink of another orgasm, it feels so good it almost hurts, and you whine around his fingers as you imagine the feel of nearly all of his fingers inside you. If you didn’t think it would leave you sore, you’d ask him to do it again now that you’re awake, just to see for yourself. 

“Yes, my darling, four. We’ve only ever done three before, I know, but,” he licks lightly at your neck. “I figured now was the time to push our luck, with you so wonderfully soft and pliant beneath me.” You rock harder against him, faster and faster as he describes putting first one, and then two fingers inside you. 

“Two was easy, and after four orgasms and that sedative you were so relaxed that three wasn’t as difficult as it normally is.” He spreads your legs to give you more room to really move against him and encourages you with a few thrusts of his own. You’re so close- 

“My goodness you’re really enjoying this aren't you? Hearing all about what a good, cooperative girl you were for me, letting me do just what I wanted to you. Are you ready to hear about how slowly I worked on finger number four?” He asks quietly, and you whimper and nod around his fingers in your mouth.

“You were taking three so well, but I know how much you like to be stuffed full. You only had my pinkie to go, just my little finger, but you already felt so tight around the others. I spent so long easing you open, love, stretching your perfect little cunt out so carefully until I could just get the tips of all four fingers in.” You’re rolling your hips faster now, chasing your seventh orgasm in less than twelve hours and scrabbling at Fred’s back in an attempt to get him to meet your thrusts. You feel greedy, and increasingly sore, but you’re utterly helpless to stop yourself. 

“God, it was such a pretty sight. I couldn’t resist watching all four of my fingers disappear inside of you, so slowly that you would have felt every millimetre if you’d have been awake.” As if to emphasize his point, he pushes his fingers a little deeper into your mouth. “Such a good girl, are you going to come again? Give me another, my darling, that’s it.” He coos as you fall apart, sobbing around his fingers as you come. The heat licking its way through your veins is verging on painful, your pleasure laced with a deep ache as your hips stutter and jerk against Fred. 

“That’s it, just like that, yes, oh, that’s wonderful darling,” Fred praises you softly, petting your thigh as you ride through this, aching and jerking against him as he holds still above you. You try to whine his name around his fingers and he chuckles. “What was that?” He asks, finally pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly, grabbing onto your chin and leaving wet marks on your skin. 

“Fred, fuck, that was-” You pause to take a deep breath. “That’s only number five.” Fred grins at you, pouty pretty lips stretched over perfect white teeth. He nods. 

“Number five was with just the tips of my fingers inside you.” He agrees, wet fingers still squeezing your chin. His nose bumps against yours affectionately. “Number six was my favorite.” You can’t look away from his bright, sharp green eyes. “Number six. Wow.” He sighs happily and lets go of your chin and your thigh. Letting himself rest all the way on top of you, his bare skin warm against yours, his weight heavy and perfect, he frames your face with his forearms and cards his fingers through your hair. 

“Oh, I loved number six. Darling, I had four fingers inside of you and you were just so tight.” He ruts gently against your sore and aching cunt. “You were so tight so I just pushed them all the way in so, so slowly, and then, with all of them deep inside of you, I got to use my tongue on your clit one last time.”

You’re aching so much already, and every drag of his hips makes your clit hurt, but you need to be closer to him. Impatiently, you pull at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down just enough to free his cock. 

“Need you, please Fred. I need you inside me.” You whimper, utterly beyond caring about how smug he looks; he’s more than earned it. 

“You were making the sweetest little noises by number six, love. The softest gasps and hitches in your breathing; I thought I was going to come in my pants like a teenager.” He cuts himself off with a low grunt as he slides against your soaked entrance, one of his hands slipping between your bodies so he can guide himself into you. You cry out sharply as he fills you, the pleasure shadowed by the slightest whisper of pain. 

“After six, I took the rest of my clothes off, and finally fucked you. I thought about moving you onto your tummy for that, but I wanted to watch my cock split you open.” He stays still inside of you, despite your nails scraping lightly along his back and sides, desperately seeking for purchase. Instead, he brushes your hair delicately away from your face, utterly unbothered by your squirming. 

“Fred, Fred please, Jesus, move please...” You whine, shifting underneath him, hitching your legs up around his hips and moaning as he slides deeper into you. 

“Oh, darling, you always take me so well, even after six orgasms.” He rocks his hips slowly and you dig your nails into his sides, gasping as his cock hits a spot inside you that has your whole body aching so good. “There it is,” Fred sighs smugly. Every muscle in your body contracts as he pulls out inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him. His fingers are soft on your face as he holds still just inside you as you pant, eyes tightly shut. 

“Fred...” 

He kisses first one cheek and then the next, and then both eyelids before instructing, “Open your eyes.” You bite your lip and draw a shaky breath before doing so. His green eyes are sharp and as soon as he has your attention he pushes slowly back into you. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises as your eyes slip closed. “Open.” He sets the slowest pace you can ever remember Fred fucking you, staring into your eyes as he takes you apart piece by piece on his cock. He fucks you deeply, and sore or not, you feel a familiar burning feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to boil, your nerves twitching, your legs locking around his waist. It’s a fight to keep your eyes open and on his. 

Somehow it feels so much bigger, so much more, with his eyes locked on you seeing everything, seeing right through you. You need him to come; you don’t think you have another orgasm left in you. 

“This is how I fucked you last night.” Fred says, practically purring when you slide your fingers back into his hair. 

“So slowly, and so deeply that I thought I might hit the end of you. God, I’d spend all my time buried in your perfect cunt if I could, you’re always so tight, and warm, and wet for me. And you were so good last night, so pliant and pretty. My very own Sleeping Beauty.” He huffs a laugh, his breath warm against your skin and only adding to the complete sensory overload you’re experiencing. You buck your hips and try to tighten around him, trying to push him into coming faster. 

“Fred, please, I can’t.” You sob weakly, looking deeply into those piercing eyes of his and searching for a reprieve. Every lick of burning pleasure that’s coiling in your core hurts just a little more than the one that came before, and you truly don’t know how much more you have in you. 

“Oh you can, darling. I know you can, you really can.” He encourages, smile easy, eyes so sure, so confident. You squeeze your legs around his waist and tug hard on his hair. 

“Fred, god-” You break off with another sob, and Fred groans as you clench around his cock inside of you. 

“Just a little more darling, just- fuck, just a bit more.” Fred thrusts harder a few times, hips stuttering, eyes tightening and his hands leaving your hair to grip the pillow next to your head hard, twisting the fabric between his fingers. You cry out as his hips shove hard once, twice and he comes, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face in your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin. 

You clutch him to you tightly as he grumbles happily into your neck, soft satisfied sounds as he presses you into the mattress, cock still jerking inside of you. You breathe heavily underneath him, aching, sore, and content, your nerves still twitching, and your legs still clutched around him. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you lie like that for, both thoroughly worn out and satiated. It’s not long before the soreness between your legs makes itself known, and Fred doesn’t miss your wince as you try to shift your legs. In an instant he’s sitting up, pulling out of you carefully so as not to hurt you further, those gorgeous green eyes full of concern as he looks you over. As sore as you are, you try to tug him back down on top of you, but he’s having none of it.

“I think you need a hot bath. Doctor’s orders.” He says firmly. You’re in no mood to bicker with him; quite honestly, the idea of relaxing in your claw foot tub with him sounds incredible. Before he can climb out of bed to start running the water, you catch his hand. 

“We’re definitely trying this again, aren’t we?” You say, with an exhausted little laugh. 

[holy-hyuck]

Our Maybes

It’s 3am, you can’t sleep, and Yeonjun can’t get you out of his head.

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Swearing

link to my masterlist -> please be aware that this content is 100% mine and you are not to distribute it or take it without my consent

let me know what you think! 😊

Your eyes shut close, and open a minute after - it feels like that, at least, but the time on your phone tells you it’s been two hours. It doesn’t matter anyway because by seven you’ll feel tired again, and your 8am class won’t let you get any sleep.

It takes a minute but eventually, your eyes adjust to the dark and you stare at your door a little longer. Perhaps you could will yourself back to sleep.

Nah, who are you kidding?

Throwing the covers off, you put on your slippers and the bright orange hoodie haphazardly thrown on the floor the night before. As your feet drag across the carpeted floor, you notice how silent the house in. You can hear everything; your own thoughts, for once, the ticking of the clock, a dog barking outside, Changbin’s snoring, and...glass breaking? Someone cursing?

Who on earth is up at half-past three in the morning? Oh, right. You.

The stairs creak ever so slightly as you descent down them, praying you won’t trip in the darkness, but the floor and the walls are brighter than usual. Then, you notice the light coming from the kitchen and some shuffling, the crispiness of glass breaking underneath a heavy object.

“Fuck.” You hear someone mutter and take a peek into the room. It’s Yeonjun, still in yesterday’s clothes, hitting the plastic edge of the dustpan against the bin, emptying it out. You’re grateful you put on slippers - Yeonjun can’t sweep to save his life.

You watch him chuck the brush and the dustpan into the cupboard below the sink and close it with a slam, startling himself. You let out a giggle and he turns around, only spotting you now, leaning your hand against the wall.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He scratches the back of his neck and smiles at you sheepishly.

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” You walk up to the kitchen island and hop on the marble. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. I have a test to study for. You too?”

“Something like that,” you answer, then thank him with a nod for the glass of water he slides your way. You watch him take a sip before staring off into space.

You’ve always found Yeonjun attractive, ever since the first day of university when he helped you carry your things into your room, his hair a dark brown colour. A month later, it was silver, and before Easter, a navy blue. Now, he’s sporting a platinum blond colour, but it doesn’t really matter if he has the rainbow on his head or if he’s completely bald - his visuals are out of this world either way.

Your drop your gaze before he has a chance to catch you staring, and play with the strings on your pyjama shorts. You wrap them around your finger, then release, over and over until Yeonjun coughs and you will yourself to look up at him. He gives you a smile you can’t help but reciprocate; he has that effect on you sometimes.

“Hey, put on some shoes. I’m gonna take you somewhere,” he tells you, dropping the glass into the sink rather harshly and running to get his coat and shoes on.

“What?” You’re perplexed but don’t have time to protest, for Yeonjun is nowhere around to hear it. With a sigh, you hop off the kitchen island and do as you’re told, debating whether you should put on some pants but disregarding the idea when Yeonjun’s bright smile meets your expression, and all you can think is how much you want to make him smile like that again.

“Let’s go.” He grabs your hand, grabs his keys, and locks the door of your shared apartment behind him.

The air outside is still, and again, you can hear everything. You can feel everything. The city is asleep, but everything is so alive as you’re trudging through the small streets of your equally small town, side by side.

“I thought you had a test to study for,” you finally say.

Yeonjun releases a ghost of a laugh. It’s warm, like the air around you. “It’s only ten minutes from our house. I promise you’ll like it. Maybe it’ll help you sleep better.”

You nod, though he can’t see you because he’s looking from left to right to cross the street, grabbing your hand and making you follow him as he crosses the road. You don’t know why he looked both ways, or why he wants you to be safe - the city’s sleeping, much like you should be. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.

“Here.”

“Where is here?”

You look around, and all you see are rows of houses, lined up like dominoes. You’re standing in front of a tall gate, the blue paint old and chipping away with every harsh wind and icy winter, and it’s not long, you think, before it falls apart.

“Come on.” You watch as he climbs up the fence, the swaying of the metal making your heart skip a beat as it moves one with his body, and then he jumps off at the other end, leaving you amazed at his agility.

“I’ll catch you if you need me to.”

He motions for you to do the same, and though with hesitation, you grip the metal, surprised by its warmth, and follow his actions. He doesn’t catch you when you jump off to join him; he doesn’t have to, for you do so with ease, but you want him to. Maybe you just want an excuse for him to hold you.

You follow him up some creaky stairs, ending up on a roof of an abandoned warehouse. It’s almost entirely flat, aside from the raised edges preventing your fall, and a gradual slope in the middle, its top flat as well. It’s big enough to room one, perhaps two people.

Yeonjun’s quick to hop on the top, his long legs helping him up the slope. It’s a bizzare structure for a roof, but perhaps that’s why Yeonjun likes it so much; he can sit here and watch every sunset and sunrise, colours seeping into each other like on an abstract painting.

You don’t follow right away, opting to lean back and watch the city, but he reaches out with his leg and nudges you with it, forcing you to go up and join him. He holds your hand until you’re safely next to him, and you’re quick to jerk it away, afraid he’ll notice the sweat coating your palm. It’s his fault for making you so nervous.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He grabs your attention with his words and you nod in agreement. “You should come up here at sunset. It’s even better.”

Again, you nod and stare forward. The city shines, mimicking the stars in the sky, and it’s funny how the first thing you think of is light pollution.

You like the town the way it is; small, quiet, homely, but your heart races thinking of the wildness you could experience just the next town over, a city of life and bright lights, where the night never ends, and the sun never comes up.

Yeonjun coughs again and you wonder if he has a cold, looking at him quizzically.

“So...” He gives you a smile.

“So...” you repeat, furrowing your brows. Why is he acting so weird? “Don’t you have an exam to study for? What are we actually doing here, Yeonjun?”

“Yeah, about that...” He scratches the back of his neck, letting his legs hang over the edge, bringing his hands together. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“We’re talking.”

Your reply makes a frown appear on his face but you laugh it off, and so does he, only after a pause.

“Go on then.”

You look ahead, closing your eyes as you enjoy the gentle breeze of summer on your skin. This is what content feels like. The hot and humid weather gets to you sometimes but you love summer nights; there’s something in them that brings you back to when you were ten, careless and free, like the wind that blows in all four directions without caring what or who it stumbles upon, unable to be controlled.

Suddenly, you feel extra warmth on the skin of your left hand and look to Yeonjun’s hand holding yours. Before you have time to question the action, he speaks up.

“Listen, I-I like you. I’ve honestly liked you since I met you; you were so cute struggling with all those boxes, and then I told you should have taken a suitcase instead, like the others. You remember what you said? That you’re not like the others-”

“-that apparently I’m stupider. Yeah.” You laugh, recalling the memory. Really, you procrastinated buying a suitcase large enough to fit all your years of unhealthy hoarding, and forgot your family were taking theirs on vacation, and you couldn’t be late for your first day at university, now, could you?

“Yeah.” He sighs. “And I was so glad I decided to live on campus. And then Yeri found out about my crush and told me to confess, and I swear I was so ready until your crush on Hyunjae came out and-”

“Ugh.” You make a face and Yeonjun burst out laughing. “Don’t remind me. How could I ever have a crush on someone so self-absorbed?”

“Beats me.” His words make you laugh. After a pause, and much debating inside his head, he speaks up again, “Summer came and I thought I could let go of this crush, but we both just had to decide to come back for the summer.”

He turns you towards him, and you don’t have it in you to push away as he grabs both your hands into his, holding them in front of his chest. “I never let go of you. And I don’t really want to. Maybe I’m crazy, and this will never work out, not in a million years. But I’m also the guy who ignores all the signs of balding, like the clumps of hair after I shower, and continues dying his here like my life depends on it, and I’m still going to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

“Woah there,” you vomit out the words, an action fueled by your twisting stomach, the butterflies’ wings tangled up, unable to escape. “Shouldn’t you ask me on a date first?”

Yeonjun furrows his brows, tilting his head to the side. “Would you say yes?”

You shrug in response, teasing the boy. “I don’t know. If you make it worth my time.”

“You little-” He lunges at you, his hands slipping underneath your jumper, fingers dancing on your skin. The tickling causes your body to jerk backwards, yelling for the heavens to hear, until you’re almost falling off the edge and let out a shriek.

Yeonjun has quick reflexes, though, and catches you, holding you so close to him you feel the rise and fall of his chest. He looks from your eyes to your lips, to his hands holding your shoulders.

“Don’t tell me you planned this,” you breathe out, mixing your breath with his in the stillness of the air.

He shrugs in response, and you expect a small smile on his face, but there’s nothing, not even a trace; his expression is unreadable.

You sigh, detaching yourself from him, then shifting so it’s comfortable for you to lay your head on his chest. You feel his heartbeat - erratic and uneven - as it’s thumping against your ear, and your hands clutch his shirt. His are holding you close like you’re still slipping over the edge, and his lips sigh against your hair.

“We should probably go,” you mumble, “before the sun rises and everyone notices we’re missing.”

“Let them notice. I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”

You smile. “Then neither am I.”

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Well. In light of the recent vanessa fic, I am going to request a few things. How about Helena going to MC's high school reunion?

WARNINGS: Intolerable sexist arseholes Referenced rape culture Blood and minor violence Written by: @evoedbd ******************************************

“Helena… my feet hurt.” Kya’s soft, plaintive voice rung like gunshots in Helena’s ears. To hear that Kya was in pain caused a war of sensations within the Sorceress, turning her chest into a battlefield as she aimed to pick out her own thoughts amidst the din. The music was too loud. All pulsing beats and pop hits that all bled into one another in an unpleasant screech. With all the beauty Kya’s people could capture, the fact they abused that power to capture such meaningless garble was bad enough, but the songs that Helena’s ears had picked out went beyond this. The images of men taking what they pleased, or endlessly fucking hoes and capping foes… it set her teeth on edge. Why would anybody wish to put a cap on someone they disliked so much? It was absolutely beyond her. After all, she had seen the selfishness of humanity. She had seen people who would do precisely what the songs fantasized about. She had been one of those prizes. The pet. The mess left behind once a tyrant had finished with her for the night. She had been the violated girl dragging herself across the floors because she couldn’t walk, trailing blood. Why did some of Kya’s people find this concept worth celebrating? How many even knew what they danced to? “Helena?” This time, Kya’s voice was pleading. A gentle touch to Helena’s ravaged senses. This was accompanied by the lightest touch to her forearm, fingertips begging for more yet restraining themselves until Helena gave consent. The Sorceress had to close her eyes, to stop watching and picture a much calmer place. An open field, filled with flowers that had no name, not in this world. Flowers woven through black hair, accompanying laughter that became wings for Helena’s soul. She didn’t particularly want to open her eyes to the gyrating crowds. Around her, she could feel a thousand candles, each flickering in time with the sea of sorry, middle-aged bodies awkwardly trying to reclaim their youth. All dressed in finery above their means as they tried to convince everyone of their success and happiness, even as they reeked of misery. An ocean of people, all smiling politely whilst firing knives from their tongue, shooting daggers from their eyes. Alcohol flowing a little too freely, too dangerously. Control, so willingly abandoned. It was as if none of them knew its value. As if none of these people had ever seen or experienced control torn away completely, until even the breath a body took was at another’s whim. Then there were the lights. A spinning ball reflected everything, casting a thousand fragments of light across the floor, growing larger as they grew further from the centre. Spinning chaos across the wooden floors, illuminating the deep blue lighting, catching in the mist across the dancing masses. An unnatural mist summoned by machines… and Kya said her people possessed no magic. “Helena… are you with me?” The longing to answer hit her harder than a boulder from a catapult against a crumbling castle wall. Gods, how she wanted to open her eyes and find only one person before her. Yet, she was surrounded; drowning in the sea of bodies as the unnatural mist lapped at her ankles. As elbows collided with her, or fingers nipped at the bottom of her hair like vultures testing the fight left in their meat. Her heart pounded, beating against the cage of her chest much like how her magic pulsed with her fears. Limbs tingled; fingers began to move on instinct. Then, warmth. So much warmth. Enough that she gasped. Instantly, her lungs filled with air; her nose with that delicious mix she had never quite learned. Something soft, something smoky and then a hint of spice. Always, it was sweet. So very, very intoxicatingly sweet… but not sugary. The underlying bitterness of coffee tempered sweetness so deliciously that Helena found herself devoured by her craving for that scent. A second inhale gave her more, slowly begun to redirect her roaming senses to a singular focus. It was enough for her to open her eyes. “Welcome back.” A kind voice fell from naked lips. The smile upon them was small, nothing intended for the world to see. A secret amidst the crowd, the last life jacket on the Titanic. Just seeing it was enough for Helena to be saved. Shining grey eyes accompanied that encouraging little smile. Adoration glistened in beautiful grey depths, outshining the tinges of concern playing flecks in bluestone. In the swirling lights and dulled room, stone was more akin to gems than cobble, captivating Helena’s attention for far longer than society deemed polite. She could care less. Museums held marble statues of deities past, depictions of Aphrodite to stare at for hours. Marble was incomparable to the greys, Aphrodite a hag compared to the graceful woman donning such a flowing black dress. Elegance in its purest simplicity. “As if I could ever be parted from you.” Helena gave her best attempt at a purr. It was effective, given the creep of pink over Kya’s pale cheeks. Pale, not bloodless, Helena reminded herself. Bloodless was danger. It was the colour Kya had gone after the Queen’s spell struck her. It was the colour Kya had been when the Queen held a blade to her throat, when the Queen tormented Helena into confessing every pain, tried to make Sorceress scream and kneel. Tried to break her. Bloodless was the Witch Queen leering over a terrified girl, or ordering her most loyal man to ensure said girl was prepared… Helena flinched. Faster than Helena could blink, Kya’s hands left her, gathering in front of said woman’s chest. Kya held her hands there patiently, as if they were to be bound. Somehow, the speed and implications of such a gesture did not spark further fear within Helena, did not reignite the painful memories lapping at the edge of her consciousness. How such gestures could be made soft and welcoming, appealing even, still befuddled her. Flummoxed, her breath caught, even as Kya spoke. “Helena, I’m going to grab your tie, ok? I won’t pull, and my hands won’t move until I know you are ok. If you need to grab me, that’s ok. I know you won’t hurt me. We can just sway.” “The music is too upbeat for such a slow dance.” Came Helena’s rebuttal, even as her body moved to follow Kya’s suggestion. Cautiously, she gathered Kya into her chest, holding the otherworldly beauty there as if the world might snatch her away. Beneath Helena’s pale skin magic simmered. It heated her veins, writhing and bubbling like serpents of heated tar. She could feel the sparks escaping her control, trapped between her skin and her silken black button up. Kya had expressed her appreciation for Helena’s suit, several times, yet Helena had not seen the appeal until just now. The darkness of her shirt slimmed her down a little, whilst also concealing the fact she was sweating bullets. Her turquoise suit jacket was cut to perfection, emphasising both the strength of her shoulders and her feminine curves, without drawing attention to an overly generous bust. The matching pants fit her like a second skin, showing off impossibly long legs right to heels which meant business. Not only did they elevate her above the heads of many men, they also screamed womanly power. That she could, and would, step on any fool who crossed her path. Then, there was her crisp white tie… the very tie currently embraced between Kya’s gentle fingers. “Who cares about the music? We make our own rules, babe, always have. This was meant to be something fun, Helena. I didn’t think it’d be like this. I just thought it’d be romantic. Like going to prom with my soulmate, instead of some boy who expected me to finish the night on the backseat of his car.” “That boy dare-“ “He didn’t try to physically force me. He was confused as to why I wouldn’t, tried to convince me verbally, but he never laid a hand on me. He wasn’t a bad person, just an ignorant one. He was influenced by the wrong people. He actually wrote me an apology. It doesn’t makes my memory of prom the best.” “Yeah, had a bitch, but she ain’t bad as you. So hit me up when you passing through. I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two” “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Kya exploded, her wrath erupting in an enraged shout. Her voice carried, drawing countless gazes to the human embodiment of furious flames about to claim their penance. Kya’s entire body trembled, almost as if her growls were causing her to vibrate, and her cheeks took on a hue often associated with a devil. The fire in her eyes seemed poised to devour the world in its search for vengeance, yet Kya tempered it to three precise culprits. Three large men, all crowding around an uncomfortable-looking DJ who cringed as the song continued to play across a stagnant dance floor. “What’s wrong? Don’t like the music, dyke?” The first man sneered, his voice grating from between crooked teeth. His mates laughed, playfully jabbing him in his well-padded arms, hooting their drunken approval. His large belly jiggled as he laughed. Helena’s eye was drawn to his shirt, specifically the valiant efforts of a single thread stretched between a disconnected button and said shirt. “You’ve been playing rape culture bullshit for over half an hour. Do you even know what half of this shit means? Slip her a Molly? That is roofies! Drugging a woman’s drink to sleep with her, cause that’s totally sexy. That Nirvana song? It is literally about a rape victim. Did you idiots even stop to think that some people here might have gone through that?” Kya’s accusations were sharp, to the point, a jab of a blade straight to the ribcage. “We thought it was setting the mood. Isn’t your bitch DTF? She looks the type.” The second man taunted, giving a poor attempt at a suggestive wiggle of his brows. This man appeared more in shape, lithe, with the veins standing stark beneath his muscles. However, the stench of alcohol was only smothered by the copious amounts of noisme body spray he stained his wrinkled shirt with. “This isn’t the 1800s, dude. Women have the right to get married and be together outside of a Pornhub video.” Kya’s tone dropped along with her brows, her expression challenging, daring the men to come up with a retort worthy of her. “It isn’t rape if the bitch wants it.” The third man jeered. Unlike his counterparts, he appeared clean and put together, something Helena might have even called attractive before he opened his mouth. A good-looking man, ruined by his horrific mouth or corrupt by the company he kept. “What happened to you three? How can you be so cruel as to deliberately target someone just for existing? I know you’ve been watching us and noticed Helena’s reactions.” Kya’s words struck Helena to the core. Suddenly everything made too much sense. How the songs had seemed to only get worse and worse, their violations and sexist attitude more crudely represented. More stark. How the music had steadily grown louder and louder, until their sounds had burned into Helena’s consciousness. Until they became shadows which she could not be free of. Shadows where leering eyes hid, a pride of lions or a pack of wolves slowly circling their prey. What she had dismissed as a trickle of sweat down her back now stood out, an instinctual twinge, a warning. One she had not taken heed of. It left her wondering, was anywhere truly safe for her aside from Kya’s arms? Even in this strange new world, where nobody knew her crimes, she found herself persecuted. Had coming here truly been the new start she believed it to be? Or had she just fled her own insecurity into a pit of newer, wiser vipers whilst she played catch up for over thirty years of missing knowledge? “This is America, we have the right to listen to what we want.” “You have a constitutional right not to be a colossal dick.” Kya fired back without pause. This earned several snickers from around the room at the man’s expense. She wasn’t done, not even close. Kya continued, launching into a scolding with enough disgust in her tone to cow the watching crowds. “After everything she has done for this damn country, hell, the world, she deserves ONE night without some douchebags throwing shit at her. All we wanted was to come and have a lovely night out, not cop sexual harassment from a failed security guard, an alcoholic and a walking advertisement for how not to be a man all trying to relive their high school glory days.” “What? She got bored of servicing all the real men and went for her own bitch to boss around instead?” The second man taunted, snickering loudly at Kya’s repulsed expression. The expression was barely a flicker on the way to a smile. No, a smile implied genuine joy and happiness. Kya’s expression was something far darker. Ink dropped into water, sinking to the bottom of the glass. Purity tainted by malicious intent. Helena internally flinched. That expression was unlike anything she had seen from Kya before, save when Kya dealt with the Queen. It was the closest Kya could ever come to such wickedness; the closest Helena could bare to see her fall. “Oh I get it now. This is about your inferiority complex that no woman as gorgeous as Helena would want to be within ten feet of you unless it was to deliver a restraining order.” Kya’s voice was so calm, so crisp and clear, yet somehow a sneer. Something that even the Witch Queen could never truly pull off. It all happened so fast. Faster than Helena could even react. One moment, Kya was snarling in the face of some asshole, the next he had reached out in a sloppy attempt to smack her. Kya was faster. In a blink, she had grabbed the man’s wrist, grip unyielding, stepped into his space and twisted her body. Just like Helena had taught her. The man went plummeting to the ground in a flurry of ill-fitting formalwear and disgusting body spray. The collision was bone-jarring, filling the room with an audible thud. Before anybody could do anything more than gasp, the third man launched at Kya’s exposed back. Helena’s heart leapt into her throat, her magic burning beneath her skin in preparation to unleash. It was a pointless endeavour. Kya moved naturally, as fluidly as a trickling stream with the passion of a dancer and the heart of a knight. Her elbow came up, driven into the man’s nose without a moment of hesitation. He too fell, left with only his hands to try and still the raging current of blood pouring between his trembling fingers. His hands desperately palmed the broken mass of his nose, which made his cries sound wet and gargling. A second strike, a vicious kick to his groin, ensured he would not be getting up again. Helena arched a brow. That was not something she had taught Kya. “How?” The most rotund of the three questioned, wisely keeping his hands well away from Kya as she stormed up to him. Helena knew his fear, it was once an intimate companion to her afterall. He looked at Kya as if she were the Witch Queen, something which sat uneasily in Helena’s gut. Even here, Kya was not the Queen. She had not taken evident joy in her power over these men, nor in their fear. Kya wore an entirely too calm expression, as if the violence had been a bore to her. As if the blood running down her arm was something to be nonchalant about. She was silent as she reached out, hooking a single finger into the string stretched between button and shirt. Finally, it gave out, snapping under the added pressure. Then, Kya spoke, her voice kept low as if to protect the man from further humiliation. “My wife is a war hero. I’m not the scary one.” She informed, using the tails of his shirt to wipe the blood from her arm. At Kya’s words, Helena noticed the room focus on her for a moment, awe and respect flooding their eyes in a manner that was entirely too familiar. Too uncomfortable. It was the awe and fear of Reiner’s army. How long would it be until they too saw the monster she could be? Could that be how they now viewed Kya? “She’s earned her peace, and I’ll fuck up anybody who tries to attack that. She shouldn’t have to kill anybody else to protect this country, let alone deal with shitfucks like your friends shaming her for having an ounce of happiness.” Kya continued, eyes blazing dangerously. That. That there was something the Queen never had. The heat in her eyes, the fire and compassion. Helena’s heart rose in her throat. She’d seen this scene before. The Queen, leering over her prey, leaning down to mock their failure before she crushed them. Now Helena could see it. Kya’s connection to the Queen. The heat had faded from her cheeks, yet that heat seemed to have migrated to her eyes. Where the queen froze, Kya blazed, charring the man’s willpower to cinders with but one annoyed glance. Her focused glare had him trembling, fearing what she might do next. Helena felt that fear. Had the queen claimed her lover? Was she to truly lose her happiness now? Was fate so cruel? “Your friends will need medical care. That elbow could have broken more than his nose, and your other buddy smacked his head pretty hard.” Kya added, concern filtering into her expression for a microsecond before she turned. With the grace and confidence of a Queen, she strode over to the first man, her dress fluttering around her knees like wisps of shadows and silk. She leaned down towards the man, crouching so that she could speak directly to him. “If I ever hear you dared touch another soul without their consent, then you will no longer have hands.” Kya warned, her voice a tide of outrage tempered by her own compassion. Her hand upon him reminded him to stay down, but also touched with concern. Feeling how his heart rose to meet her palm. Despite his unfocused gaze, he afforded her his full attention, staring at her as if he was looking upon an Angel. No, not an Angel. A Valkyrie of Nordic legend. A guide to the lost heroes, the one to guide their souls to peace. Helena understood, for she gazed in utter devotion. This Kya was a new creature, one embodying her soulmate, channelling Helena’s protective energy in a uniquely Kya way. Helena couldn’t help but smile, to grace her protector with an approving twitch of her lips and a nod. Kya was not the Queen, nor did she continue her violence when it was not in defence. She had picked up arms in this moment so Helena would not. So Helena did not have to. Just as Kya had promised, she protected Helena’s peace. Kya rose after a few more moments, stony eyes softened to gems as she gazed upon Helena. The Valkyrie extended her hand, fingers imploring Helena’s to weave between them with a silent little wiggle. Helena, a lost soul if ever there was one, was helpless to do anything but reach, to accept the hand offered to her. With the softest of smiles, she entrusted herself entirely to her soulmate, her Valkyrie, trusting that if Kya was not her peace then at least she would lead Helena there.

[flightrules]

Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Chapter 6: No Promises

Sometimes, a sleepless night is a good thing.

Summary: This is a story about trust and kindness, loneliness and loss, belief and transgression. And two people crossing paths just long enough to find each other.

Previous chapters: I keep hearing tumblr suppresses posts with links. So, visit the pinned post on my blog or the same username on AO3.  

Relationships and characters: Din/female reader (both similar age to Din in canon), Grogu, and a cameo from Peli.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Tags and warnings: Moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Ending is bittersweet.

Supper is the same as the midday meal, cold rations washed down with tinny tasting water. "You eat like this all the time?"

"I try not to," he says. "He needs real food. I haven't had much chance to go shopping."

The child is sitting on your lap now, as you hold his little tray for him and he picks out bites to eat. He's seemed subdued ever since your game of chase went so wrong. 

It's a bit of a balancing act to manage your own meal while keeping the tray steady and the little body balanced. But you turned down the man's offer to take him.

You should be careful about letting the child think there's something changing here, that you'll be a presence in his life. 

It's just so nice to imagine, for a small moment, that you could be. That a child's laughter could be part of your world again.

There's not much conversation over the meal. You're tired and your body still has that vague achy feeling, like it isn't ready to forget getting thrown to your knees. 

The ration trays get washed in the sink again, and then the child gets a bath in the sink again, too.  

"You don't mind, do you?" he asks first. "He doesn't like the sonic shower. I think it's hard on his ears."

You stay at the table while he pushes his sleeves up past his elbows, pops the child into a mess of warm water and soap bubbles, and lets him splash around a bit. By the time the man lifts him out again, there are bubbles all across the counter and water on the floor. "I've told you not to do that," he says mildly as he wraps the child in a towel and, holding him in one arm, swipes a rag across the counter and then uses one foot to wipe the rag along the floor. 

He crouches to pick the rag up again, a perfectly balanced movement with the child cuddled against his chest. 

"I'll let you get him ready for bed," you say, getting up from the table and resisting the urge to go over there and melt yourself against this man. You are not his family, or the child's, and you need to remember it for yourself as much as for the little one.

The bedtime routine consists of a quiet, one-sided conversation, the man narrating all the little things they did today and the child cooing in response. You take the opportunity to use the ‘fresher while he’s busy in the little sleeping room, then spread out your bedroll, stuffing some clean clothes in a carry-sack to serve as a pillow. It's early, but you stretch out and close your own eyes, letting your back and shoulders rest flat against the blanket. 

There's something comforting about his voice, the slight gravel in it, the way almost everything he tells the child is framed as "we." You've never been sure how much the child understands, but you hope he can at least hear how safe he is in this man's care.

You're almost asleep, yourself, by the time he gets to how he hurt you. "I made a mistake," he says, clear and matter-of-fact. "I'll always protect you, but that doesn't mean it's all right to hurt our friend. I want you to know we can trust her. Don't make the same mistake I did."

*

That's very sweet, you think drowsily. As if the tiny creature could do you any harm. 

"Are you awake?"

You open your eyes to find he's standing a couple of meters away. Earlier today you might have thought that strange, but now you think, Right. No sudden moves.

"May I…" his voice trails off.

You sit up, making room for him to join you. And now it's your turn to ask, as he's left a careful few centimeters space between. "I'd like to touch you."

His voice is quiet, his usual confident tone sounding suddenly half strangled. "I'd like that."

You don't do it right away, though. You look at him, contemplating. There are curls falling over his forehead again. The scruff of beard he had yesterday is gone. Did he shave for you, or is that just something he does every few days? With the helmet covering his face all the time, he certainly wouldn't have to worry about looking neat. 

Loose as it is, the shirt he's wearing does nothing to hide his solid-looking shoulders, and you've already seen the shape of his chest and waist from the t-shirt he had on this morning. Stars, that was so long ago.

You turn your body toward him and reach out, so slowly, to skim your hands over his hips and under his shirt, pushing the fabric up to bare the flat plane of his stomach, and then a little more so your hands are framing the bottom of his ribs. "Help me?" you say, meaning help me get your shirt off, but he's just staring at you, lips slightly parted, not moving at all.

"You tell me if you want me to stop," you remind him, and then get up onto your knees so you can lift his shirt further. The bruises from earlier remind you to move carefully, but you're able to shift your weight so it almost doesn't hurt to kneel.

He has dark hair across his chest. You resist the urge to run your thumb across one nipple, instead asking him more clearly to lift his arms so you can get the shirt over his head.

He does, now, taking over with a single smooth movement and then actually stopping to fold the thing and set it aside. 

There's something about that that makes your heart hurt. That makes you think you could fall in love with him, if you had the opportunity to try.

You do finally have the chance to see what happens when you drag your teeth across his ribs. You start at his collarbone, lining kisses from neck to shoulder, then down over the muscles of his chest. As you do you can feel his breathing quicken, turning to a gasp as you go from soft kisses to the scrape of teeth. You should probably remind him to breathe but now you're tracing your tongue along a pale line of scar where, you realize, the beskar breastplate doesn't reach.

His hands on your shoulders stop you. He's gentle but firm, guiding your body back upright, giving you plenty of time to fight it if you want to. 

You don't want to. 

"Show me how to kiss you," he says. 

"It takes practice." Kissing a new partner's mouth usually starts out clumsy and uncoordinated, until you find each other's rhythm.

"We have until morning," he says. 

It is, indeed, uncoordinated at first. He's obviously got the general idea--you can't spend 40-something years in this galaxy without seeing what people do--but no idea how to actually do it. He's a quick learner, though, echoing back your movements until he's got the hang of it. And then that precision kicks in and he's got your mouth trapped beneath his, tongue at the corner of your lips and then gently opening you up to his warmth, and you're the one who's forgetting how to breathe.

It's new to him and it's been a while for you, and the two of you end up making out like teenagers for a while, his hand against your jaw and your fingers in his hair, and when you need to catch your breath you bury your head in his shoulder until gently insistent hands lift your face to his again.

What stops you is a small sound from the child. You might not even have noticed it, coming from behind the metal door, but he's already turning his head to listen. He kisses your forehead before getting up to trigger the controls.

The noises from the hammock sound like sobs. 

"Hey," the man tells him, sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning in to lay a hand over the little body. "Whatever it is, I'm here." He turns to you. "He cries in his sleep sometimes. Usually I sing to him."

"Then you should." You get up to go sit beside him on the floor and lean your head against his knee. It's the same lullaby you heard that first night on board the Razor Crest. He can barely carry a tune but that's all right, you don't know the melody anyway and you don't understand the words. You stay there for a while even after the child's cries have stopped, as he continues through a half-dozen verses, you resting against him and his hand against your hair.

*

More of the evening disappears into figuring out his body, into his hands finding confidence in how to touch your skin. 

The last time someone touched you with such reverence, you were probably sixteen years old, trying new things for the first time with a boy you'd grown up with, whose body you'd seen change as you both slipped toward adulthood. He's long gone, that boy, not even buried, just lost in the ash that used to be your home.

Your shirt's off now, too, and he folded it for you, and you can't even explain why that makes you ache inside.

He's tracing your breasts with his fingertips, light against your skin but following every curve. He seems to know, by instinct maybe, to leave your nipples until they're aching for him to touch, and then to follow his fingers with his mouth, with his tongue and then lips and then, so very gently, with his teeth. He's got you panting, your fingers digging hard into his shoulder until you suddenly realize that's the side that was bothering him and you drop your hand. 

He looks up at you, and it takes him a minute to find words. "What's wrong?"

You're slow to make sense, too. "You--you're hurt, I don't want to--" 

He looks down at his own shoulder, the one you were working on together this morning. Then he's pulling you in to him, so very slow again and careful, until you're skin to skin against his body, your breasts pressed up against the muscle of his chest, his head bent down to yours. "Thank you," he says, and it's a whisper against your temple and then just the two of you breathing together for a while, the hum off the ship's engines the only other sound.

You know the shapes of the muscles on his back now. You've run your fingers along the grooves between them. You know now how his skin feels different over scars, and how the burn scar at his neck is different from the knife scar on his side. 

You were surprised to find the small, circular bump of a contraceptive implant on his arm, and at first you looked at him in accusation. From what he’s told you, he shouldn’t have needed it. But he just shrugged. "When I swore the Creed," he said, "I swore I would care for any child I made. I've never been in a place to be able to care for a child." You could feel your eyebrows go up as you nodded toward his bunk, where the tiny being in his care was sleeping. "I'm still not," he said. "It seemed like a good idea, to make sure it couldn't happen." 

He knows the most sensitive spot on your neck by now, and he knows the way you'll move your head if he kisses you there. He knows that if he runs his hands over your belly you'll jump at first, ticklish, but then lean into his touch if he uses a little more pressure. He's figured out what happens if he traces the shell of your ear with his tongue. 

Right now you're kneeling behind him, one hand on his chest, one finger sliding over a stiffened nipple while the other hand traces the hair that trails down his abdomen to the waistband of his trousers. For the first time, you slide your fingertips beneath the fabric. His hand comes up to wrap around your wrist and hold your arm still.

But he doesn't tell you to stop. 

You tuck your chin over his shoulder and ask him if you should.

He doesn't answer. He's sitting up straighter, though, that uncomfortable posture you'd started to hope he'd left behind.

Carefully, you move your hands from his body, and his fingers slide from your wrist as you do. You shift around to face him. 

Slow. You promised him slow. 

Your own body is edging toward impatience. You've been wet for him for hours and, although you're not complaining about any of this so far, there's a sense of emptiness that your body is letting you know, in no uncertain terms, it would like him to fill.

You check in before you move next, get his permission to settle yourself back on his lap, knees to either side of his hips. It lets you press against the length of him through his trousers, and you find you're shivering as the most sensitive part of you connects there.

His voice is a vibration through your own chest as he says, "I can't."

You know you should let go, move back, but your muscles won't listen to your brain until he speaks again, until ingrained reflex takes over when he says the word "Stop." 

He's keeping his hands to himself now, still breathing a little hard but keeping his body constrained. One hand clenches and then slowly opens, coming to rest at his side.

"If we keep going," he says, "I'm going to want you to stay."

Your heart skips for a second, and you're already thinking, yes.

"I can't let you stay." He's sitting so still. His fingers move again, what seems to be an involuntary tic. It's his right hand, the one that would reach for the blaster that's usually at his hip.

"I can't be distracted. If I had to choose between you and the child--"

He doesn't finish. You don't need him to. You reach over, slowly, slowly, and take his right hand. Slowly, you help him open those clenched fingers, and you place a kiss on his palm. "No promises," you remind him. And then, because there's nothing else you can say: "I'm leaving at Pavotha."

It's still so curious, getting to see his face. How sometimes his expressions are open and sometimes they're unreadable, like in all those years with the helmet on he's lost the ability to mirror certain feelings. Lost the muscle memory.

Right now, though, there's no mistaking that you're looking at pure gratitude.

"Do you still want to stop?" you ask him, and you're asking a little bit for him, but it's mostly because your body is longing to see the rest of his, to touch him in new places. To settle in against him, take his cock inside you, and move together until the rest of the galaxy disappears.

"No promises?" he says.

And, although your whole body is screaming at you not to say it, you tell him again: "Only that I'm leaving."

*

If you were planetside, it would be dawn by now. But here in the dimly lit hold, there's only the chrono to tell you it's near morning.

You're not looking at it though.

You're sitting on his lap again, legs around his waist and feet planted against the floor. His hands are on your hips. You showed him how this position works and now he's helping you move, bringing you down against him so his cock is buried deep inside you, holding you so there's pressure against your clit as he presses closer, then lifting your body so the length of him slides against your opening, setting every nerve on fire. You didn't teach him to pause sometimes, keeping your hips in place against him, and lean up to kiss you. He figured that out on his own.

He lasted longer than you might have expected the first time, when you drew his body over you and slow disappeared when he said "Are you sure?" and you said "Yes." And although you guided him in gently, carefully, neither one of you could stop after that. You bit your own lip so hard, trying not to cry out and wake the child, that there was blood on both your faces by the end.

You're going to have to sleep soon, before the child wakes up and the new day starts. But for now you're going to stay like this, your skin slicked with your sweat and his, the taste of him in your mouth, and the sacredness of trust between you.

[endless-whump]

S/O: A Lie

CW: box boy universe, discussions/conflict about consent and the ability to consent, head injury, self blame, guilt, mentions of past torture/captivity, blink and you’ll miss it mention of past noncon/fear of noncon

Masterlist

Note: takes place right after Run

Fills the @badthingshappenbingo​ box for “doesn’t realize they’ve been injured” requested by @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow​ ! Sorry it took so long to get done lmao

--

Oliver ran.  Street lights were a blur as he sprinted past them, cars whipping by and thankfully not slowing down to question the small, barefoot boy running like his life depended on it.  Everything felt like it was spinning and he was so dizzy but he couldn’t stop, not yet.  He couldn’t take a break and risk someone having followed him, or spotting him in the open, or giving them enough time to track him down.  He felt like a hunted animal, wild and lost and desperate in his attempts to get as far away from the danger as possible.

“Now go”

That's what Simon had told him, with an urgency that sent chills down his spine.  As much as he wanted to fight back against it, to stay and help and not leave Simon, he couldn’t say no to such an urgent order.  Simon said he’d come back though, he promised.  

His feet burned on the icy sidewalk as he ran, chills taking hold of him even with the heavy hoodie he’d thrown on, clinging to it like a lifeline. He needed to hide, he needed to be out of sight. He tried to focus enough to get a hold of his surroundings, looking for somewhere to shelter.

His leg hurt, he wasn’t ready to run this far, the adrenaline rushing through his veins only did so much.  He had to keep moving, though, running and running and running-

Oliver cried out in pain when he turned a corner too sharply, clipping the wall and being sent crashing to the ground.  His hands felt on fire, blood staining his skin as the asphalt tore his palms and forearm. His head was spinning, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. He needed to run, he needed to keep going. He was going to get caught, they were going to drag him back and he was going to be in so so much trouble, they’d hurt him again, they’d hurt Simon again.

The smell of gasoline filled the alley as Oliver dragged himself up, gravel digging into his knees, legs bleeding. He couldn’t go back, he felt like a coward for listening, for running. That’s all he ever did. He ran and he left everybody behind, too blind in his own fear to even protect the people he loved. The person he loved.

He shivered on the ground, clothes dampened from the icy rain, shivers wracking his body as he pressed his forehead against the ground, choking on sobs. He’d abandoned the one person who always protected him, left him to be hurt and dragged back.  After everything Simon had done for him, Oliver left.  

He remembered what Marie had told him, about saying no to Simon.  That it was good to be able to say no.  He failed, he did what he always did and obeyed and thought he was being good but he failed.  He should have said no, should have stayed to help.

He could do nothing but lay there in the cold, hoping by some miracle he didn’t just condemn the person he loved to die, or worse, by his mistake.

---

Oliver shuffled along near what seemed to be an empty parking lot, glancing around warily.  He was freezing and desperate for any amount of comfort, looking for a spot to hide.  He just needed somewhere to curl up and avoid the feeling of being watched, the darkness of night unable to help him hide anymore.

There was a dumpster beside a building, looking mostly empting. Oliver approached it, peeking over the edge with shy curiosity, eyes widening at what he saw. There was a jacket, looking heavy and exactly what he needed in the chill of the morning.  It was just sitting there, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to grab it.  He grabbed onto the top of the dumpster to pull himself up, reaching a hand in without hesitation to grab it.

“Hey!”

Oliver froze, elbow deep in the dumpster.  There was a man approaching him cautiously, a trash bag in one hand. The boy glanced at the exit of the alley, heart thudding in his chest as he tried to figure out an escape.

Trust nobody

“Easy, kid.  I’m not-”

Oliver bolted, scrambling down from the dumpster as fast as he could.  There was a shout behind him, but he ignored it in favor of his mad scramble away from danger.  There was a flash of pain in his foot, the breath forced from his lungs as he slipped on the slick ice, the world spinning as he went down.

Static filled the air, copper filling his senses as the world went completely silent.  He groaned, rolling over onto his stomach to try and push himself up.  There was a hand on his back but it meant danger, it wasn’t safe, he couldn’t trust anybody.

“-go get my phone, stay still,”

There were footsteps there and then gone and it was silent but everything was so loud, he needed to get out.  Pure flight instinct took hold of him as he got to his feet, swaying.  He blinked, trying to clear his vision as he stumbled, leaning against the wall.

Escape escape escape, it was all that was filling his mind as he walked, staggering clumsily through the alley.  He didn’t care what corners he turned, what buildings he passed, he just moved and moved until he was gone and lost.  He needed to be lost.  Lost meant nobody could find him to hurt him.  Lost was safe.

He crumpled against the ground near a wall, hidden behind boards of wood stacked carelessly on the ground.  Everything was so cold and loud and disorganized, his breaths ragged and panicked.  He covered his head with his arms as he curled up, forehead pressed against the cold brick of the wall he was pressed up against.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, the spot under his head growing warm as blood pooled there, and he didn’t even realize it.  He let himself drift, his fingertips numb, his bare feet and legs burning with the contact to the icy ground.  He stopped shivering, after a while, his chest tight, making it hard to breathe.

“Oliver?!”

The hand on his shoulder made him flinch, whimpering as he curled up against the wall.  A hand slid behind his head gently, turning Oliver to face the blurry but always familiar face kneeling beside him.

“..S,Simon?”  He murmured, voice strained.  His teeth had stopped chattering a long time ago, the energy to gone.  He quickly tried to sit up, head pounding and vision swimming as he struggled to cling to Simon.

“Simon, Simon you’re ok, I,I,I’m so sorry I left you’re ok-”  He was crying now, fingers shakily grasping onto the others shirt as he struggled to see through his tears.  “I’m..I’m so sorry, I’m sorry please be ok it was, was all my fault-”

“-Hey,”  Simon interrupted.  “Slow down, I’m right here.  None of this is your fault, I need you to breathe.”

Oliver obeyed, sucking in a breath as he tried to push away the growing darkness at the edges of his vision.

“Are...um, are you ok?”  He asked, his voice barely a whisper. His hands shook as he raised them to Simon’s face, dull, tired eyes somehow filled with an urgent concern as his gaze drifted across the bruises, the blood smeared on the others face. “Y,You’re hurt.”

“I’m hurt? Jesus- I’m fine, Oliver. You should see the other guy.”  Something heavy and warm was wrapped around him, arms supporting him as he was guided to stand. “Hell- you should see yourself.  Let's get you home.”

“Mfine,”  Oliver tried insisting, attempting to push himself into a standing position.  Simon grabbed hold of him to pick him up, taking his full weight as the boys legs gave out.

He could barely protest as he was scooped up, one arm hooked under his knees and another under his back to hold him close.  The world spun, his head falling limply against Simon's shoulder with the dizziness.

“God..you’ve got blood all over you, what happened?  Did someone follow you?”

“Fell..hnn, Simon I’m sorry..pl..please..”

A warm hand rested against the back of his neck, holding onto him tightly.  

“Shh, you’re ok.  I’m safe, I promise you I’m safe.  Both of us are.”

There was a car door opening, his back settling onto something soft.  He was hit by the sudden warmth, more heavy blankets wrapped snugly around him.  He let his eyes close, leaning against the warm touch.

“-he hurt?”

There were more voices, soft and concerned and familiar.  They were safe, he could relax.  He didn’t have the energy to run anymore.

“He hit his head, got blood all over him but it's mostly dried.  Legs are all scraped up..fuck he’s freezing.  I should have come straight for him instead of getting the car.”

The familiar scent of grass and coffee washed over him, warm arms holding him tight.  Oliver smiled slightly, eyes fluttering as he struggled to open them.

He’s safe, Simon's safe, I didn’t kill him

“I didn’t kill you,”  He murmured, pressing up against the comfort.  He didn’t kill Simon, he was so relieved.  Tears were warm on his face, breath hitching with a sob.

“Oliver..Ollie what are you talking about?  Of course you didn’t kill me, I’m right here.”

“I,I left you,”  Oliver choked out desperately, sobbing.  “I left you and I, I thought you were gonna get t,taken back, Simon Simon please, I thought I, I killed you,”

A kiss was pressed to the top of his head, a warm hand on the back of his neck to hold him steady as the soft movements of the car rocked the pair.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Simon hummed, smiling against Oliver’s hair.  “I’m fine, I promise.  I went to the house thinking you might have turned up there, as soon as I saw you weren’t I got Mia and Kendric and we came looking.  I’m so sorry it took so long.”

Oliver murmured in acknowledgment, feeling light and airy.  It didn’t hurt so much anymore, the pain in his head reduced to an odd spinning feeling.  His feet and the tips of his fingers felt tingly as they started to warm up, like muted pins and needles.

“-hey, can you stay awake until we get home?  Just a few more minutes.”

Oliver tried to answer, only a muffled whimper escaping him in his exhaustion.  He was shivering again, nuzzling against the warmth of Simon’s shoulder.  He felt like he was spinning, Simon the only solid thing he could grab and hold onto for the stability he so desperately needed.  Everything was ok now that he knew Simon was safe, though.  Nothing else mattered.  

The voices continued but he couldn’t quite tell what they were saying anymore, his focus drifting.  The blankets were thick, the material soft and warmed from body heat against his fingertips.  He could feel the seatbelt crossed over the two as they sat, one in the other's arms, in the back seat of the car.  He could feel a spot of dried blood against Simon’s shirt.  His breathing was even but shallow, chest rising and falling with a twinge of pain at the movement.  The grip around his shoulder tightened as the car turned and stopped, the two swaying with the motion of the car.  He closed his eyes as he was maneuvered out of the car, not missing the way Simon swayed slightly, feeling off balance.

“I can walk,”  He said quietly, pushing away to try and lower to his feet.  “You’re..you’re tired, I-I can walk.  Not hurt.”

“Nope,”  Simon hummed, keeping him held tight.  “Your feet are all scraped up, I’m worried there's glass or something, and you’ve probably got a nasty concussion.  Just let me do this.  Please?”

Oliver sighed, letting his head fall back on Simon's shoulder in resignation.  He wanted to resist, to try and put up more of a fight about it, but he simply didn’t have the energy to be stubborn.

The walk up the stairs was a precarious one, Oliver’s shaking fingers gripping onto Simons shirt tightly.  The bedroom door was pushed open, shutting and clicking as he locked it.  Oliver didn’t question it, knowing the wariness and fear behind the action.  He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he would’ve asked Simon to lock it anyways.

Now that the need for survival, for escape was gone, the wave of terror and pain and memory was given room to wash over him.  He was shaking as he was lowered into what he recognized as their bathtub, flinching when the faucet was turned on.  His breath hitched as fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, hesitating for a moment.  He didn’t want to have to be good right now-

“Need to get you warmed up and in dry clothes, you ok with that?”

He nodded jerkily, letting his shirt be pulled carefully over his head.  The shower head was switched on, a small spray of warm water hitting his back.  He couldn’t keep himself from tensing, muscles aching under the bruises but eventually relaxing under the warmth.

The bruises around his throat were tender as Simon rubbed his fingers gently across the skin, trying to get the dried blood off the back of his neck.  He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his forehead against them as he tried to will the dizziness to stop.  He wanted to forget the restriction around his neck, just another layer of memory to the choking and smothering and drowning and all the ways people took complete control over him.  The way Cedric always did.

“I didn’t know where the others were, I wasn’t lying about that,”

Oliver lifted his head slightly, swallowing against the nausea it caused.  He made a confused noise, trying to turn to look at Simon.

“I, um, I wanted to stop them.  I would have, if I knew. When they were..making me watch, I would have told them what they wanted if I knew.”

He heard the unmistakable sound of a sniff, a hitched breath to stifle a sob.  Oliver shifted, forcing himself to lift his head enough to look at Simon, his eyes red and filled with tears.

“A,And it scares me, that I would have done it.  I would have..I would have given up those people, our people, if I could’ve.  If I could keep you safe.”

Oliver didn’t know what to say.  The sound of the water filled the silence, blood running down the drain a faint, muted red.  Fingers ran through his hair, pain flaring up in the spot where he’d hit his head.

“It scares me that I’d do it without even thinking, throw someone else under the bus like that.”

Oliver gripped his sleeve, dazed eyes staring intently at him. Simon refused to look him in the eyes, staring down with his lips pressed together.

“Look at me,” He begged, tugging weakly at his sleeve.  “Please?”  Simon looked up hesitantly, eyes full of doubt and fear.  Fear of himself.

“Simon..” He started, swallowing thickly, serious but nervous.  “Simon, I want you to promise me you’ll never choose me over them.  If..if there's people in danger, especially a lot of people, don’t, don’t you dare sacrifice them for me.  Don’t you ever do that.”

“Oliver you know I can’t-”

“You can.”  Oliver insisted, swaying a little and holding onto the other for balance.  “Please promise me.  Promise me this one thing.”

Simon looked away, dropping his head to press his forehead to his arm.  He took a shaky breath before nodding, reaching a hand out to turn off the faucet.

“Let's get you dry.”  He murmured, going to reach for a towel.  Oliver didn’t let him go, jerking harder than he should have against Simon's sleeve.

“Promise me.”  Oliver begged, voice strained.  Water dripped into the bathtub, the noise feeling loud in the now quiet, slightly echoing room.  

“I..I promise.”

And they didn’t push it any further than that.  Simon let him change into dry clothes, only helping when he asked.  Bandages were wrapped around his feet and where he’d scraped his legs, a fever reducer handed to him to drink, just in case.  They were both silent as Simon helped Oliver to bed, the pair wordlessly hugging each other close as they crawled into bed, subconsciously glancing at the door, still locked.  Hums and soft touch and words of reassurance coaxed them both to relax, warmth and familiar sheets and smells reminding them both of where they were, who they were with.

Oliver went to sleep soundly, warm and in the arms of the person he trusted the most.  He trusted out of his own will, his own judgement.  He trusted out of his own love.  He smiled as he fell asleep, nuzzling against Simon's neck, feeling warm breath on his shoulder where they were slotted together perfectly.

But while Oliver went to sleep, Simon stared at the ceiling with a heavy, guilty heart, knowing for what might have been the first time ever, he lied to Oliver.

--

Taglist

@insanitywishes​ @18-toe-beans​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​@simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings​ @deluxewhump @ashintheairlikesnow​ @briars7​ @albino-whumpee​ @thatsthewhump​

(red is filled, white is requested, feel free to send one in!)

[k-corner]

Ashes of Love: The Problem with the ‘Protagonists’ Actions and Characterization, and an In-Depth Look at their Concerning ‘Romance’ Part 2

This is a continuation from Part One. Feel free to head on over there to take a look.

Part Two: Issues with Characterization –

Some points mentioned here have already been lightly touched on in part one as they deal with the plot, but they’re going to be looked at more in a characterization sort of way and in a ‘how that comes across to the audience’.

Now, since Ashes of Love is a romance story, it’s natural to assume that there’s going to be some sort of meet-cute, some sort of flirting or courting stage and then some sort of getting together stage that might be accompanied by something a little more concrete physically like kissing or sex or what have you depending on the rating of the show and the image it’s trying to get across.

Now in Ashes of Love, the main two love interests are Xu Feng and Jin Mi, whose characterizations should have some sort of weight to them that allows for a long-standing love story to spring up from them. This can be seen in the ideas of ‘introvert meets extrovert’ or ‘opposites attract’ or ‘birds of a feather flock together’ or some other variation of what personality and characteristics that these characters have that draws them in and is supposed to draw in the audience as well.

Here is where I would say the weakest part of the entire story of Ashes of Love stands. Not in the sometimes dragging storylines that make up the 60+ episode season, but in the base understandings of the two main characters that we as the audience are supposed to root for.

Xu Feng – AKA The Sexual Predator:

One of my biggest pet peeves in a ‘romance’ drama is anytime the two main love interests have some sort of accident – trip and fall, stumble into each other, get pushed into the same small space, etc. – and ‘OMG! Somehow despite height differences and just a basic understanding of how gravity and momentum works’ they’ll fall into a sweet, gentle kiss or somehow just press their lips together and I guess we’re supposed to swoon at the audience at something that really doesn’t mean anything. The fact that no one smashed each other’s noses or foreheads or something is the more impressive moment being seen in that scenario.

I digress though, but unfortunately Ashes of Love has moments like this. Unfortunately it also has moments that are so much worse. Xu Feng takes the kissing and courting parts of the storyline and runs with them from eyeroll territory and into concerned side-eye country. There are several moments, especially early in the show, when Xu Feng chooses to press his luck with Jin Mi and come onto her in a sexual/kissing/pawing at her and starting to take off her clothes while she lays there and looks up at him almost uncomprehendingly sort of way. He’s putting it all out there and out on the line, but somehow he’s not able to catch onto the fact that Jin Mi isn’t picking it up or worse, he doesn’t care and continues to press because it’s what he wants/desires.

Xu Feng’s character is a mess of ‘but she didn’t say no’ and ‘I don’t care that she’s chosen someone else I know she loves me so I have to keep pushing’ and my absolute favorite ‘Uncle, be a bro and tie us together using your mortal love fate strings for no reason other than I want to go get it on with my brother’s fiancé while I pretend I’m doing it to protect her and not take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation but it’s okay because I swear we truly love each other even though she’s never said it because she can’t actually say it right now but it’s going to be just fine just you wait’.

This is also the character who – and I would call this scene a full on assault scene regardless of him stopping himself before he goes too far and I’ll explain why – that got drunk and practically threw Jin Mi onto the bed before climbing over her and pulling at her clothes while she just laid there and blinked up at him with a kind of look that seemed innocent, uncomprehending and trusting. She had no clue what was happening in that moment as he pushes his luck. I’ll give – he stops himself though, as he should but not for the reasons he should. Why does he stop? Because at this point he thinks that there’s a possibility that she’s his sister. If he hadn’t thought that, would he have pushed harder? Would he have gone further? Who knows.

On top of creepy entitled behaviors that he shows to Jin Mi, he also takes pleasure in being unnecessarily cruel to her. The little back and forth in the Heaven Realm when he turned her into all of the various items to ‘teach her a lesson’ was not cute to me. It was borderline sadistic and just downright fucked up.

Leaving Jin Mi behind, Xu Feng still falls short when it comes to his characterization. He’s portrayed as a kind of Gary Stu. He’s the best at everything. The most powerful. He’s unchallenged by any other character – look at how the entire demon army flees before him! Look at how undefeatable he is in battle! Look at how easily he talks back to his mother with no repercussions! Look at how easily he ignores any possible feelings his brother might have and just keeps on pushing! Look at how every other side character prefers him! What a stud! (note sarcasm). Honestly Xu Feng is a character with no obstacles. The only one he has is that he is in love with his brother’s fiancé and his brother won’t give her up to him because he loves her too. How dare he! He’s evil incarnate! (note sarcasm again)

Plus, we have the narrative trying to portray Xu Feng as a supposedly moral and upright character in contrast to Run Yu who is a schemer. There’s just one problem. It’s easy to be lighthearted and benevolent and chill when you’ve never faced a day of hardship in your life, when you’ve clearly never been told no before and when the roulette wheel of fate always spins in your favor. What hardships has Xu Feng truly had to overcome? Everyone loves him and he is the Greatest at Everything™. We see his narrow world view though and how only what happens to him matters when he deals with the information about the Heavenly Empress’s tyrannical torture and killing fests. He doesn’t care that Run Yu has just lost his mother and has been tortured for the survivors he wants to talk about him and get Jin Mi. He doesn’t care that his mother murdered thousands of people because the Heavenly Emperor couldn’t keep it in his pants, how dare Run Yu disrespect her. Who cares if Xu Feng is the one who started them all down this path of misery by refusing to stop chasing after a woman who told him to stop and just kept pushing until he eventually won, he’s going to feel like he’s righteous enough to tell his brother to be alone for eternity as a price to be paid for what’s happened while Xu Feng goes to find a way to flounce off with Jin Mi and live happily ever after. Who cares if Xu Feng stripped Sui He of her powers and her sanity and threw her out to be tortured and eaten by demons without a trial or anything like that, everyone cheered him and he got the girl! Clearly he was right!

Jin Mi – AKA Born Sexy Yesterday:

Jin Mi’s whole characters storyline and plot depends and hangs onto the fact that Jin Mi is ‘naïve and sheltered’ and that she doesn’t have the ability to either consent or not consent to a male leads love. It’s because she doesn’t know what that is and can’t recognize these weird things he does! Like kiss her? Like start pulling off her clothes? Why would she say no? It’s all innocent fun!

Oh but wait, now she’s going to fall in love with this person because…because he’s constantly there and pawing at her regardless of what she says or does or how she reacts! Yay! True Love FTW! But it’s all okay because it might be that she was in love with him the whole time but it’s a good thing that he recognized it because she can’t figure out her own feelings and wrapping her mind around complicated things like love is just too hard so all of his attentions are okay somehow even though they were still done without consent but that’s okay because deep down she truly loved him. [flips a table in the distance].

Unfortunately Jin Mi’s whole story is all about her lack of agency or characters taking it away. Her mother gives her the pill. Her father sells her away before he even knows that she’s been born in an engagement to the Heaven Realm. Xu Feng continuously ignores what she says and pushes himself into her sphere and hounds her over and over again. Run Yu restores the pill and later holds her captive in the Heaven Realm. The Moon Immortal and Yan You literally turn her into a puppet to put her in wedding clothes and shove her at Xu Feng without her permission. How is any of this okay? Jin Mi needs to get the fuck out.

Plus, the story never seems to understand the limits of the pill. She can feel love, just not romantic love because she feels sibling/friendship love for her cactus friend and mourns her death. She acknowledges that she likes people like Run Yu and understands the concept of marriage and mothers and fathers despite somehow not understanding that Xu Feng is a boy and has different equipment. At certain points her level of ditzy and uncomprehending everything and anything was baffling for a woman who is thousands of years old. Sure, she lived sheltered in the Flower Realm so that’s why she got confused at a dick and wanted to cut it off…. but wait…there are men in the Flower Realm which means she would have come to understand the differences. A child catches onto them pretty quickly and that’s within two to five years. Why can Jin Mi not figure that out after four or five thousand?

This all adds up to the most irritating moment of characterization for Jin Mi. Wherein she decides based off of information that she has – before it’s verified or investigated into – to kill Xu Feng with her own hands. This is an action that Jin Mi chooses to take. Run Yu does not push her into this. Run Yu does not tell her to do this. He does not force her to kill Xu Feng. Later though, because of her guilt she throws the responsibility for her actions onto him and blames him and tears him down because of her own guilt. This is not okay for the supposedly main female lead. It’s not okay for anyone to demonize someone else and leave them holding the bag for something they had no control over. Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. It sucks, but you did it. He didn’t. Blaming him and saying that he doesn’t feel/understand love crossed a line after everything.

 The extra characterizations of the other main characters I’m not going to go into but I will sum up as this:

Supposedly Smart Characters Doing Stupid/Crazy/Out of Character/WTF Things Because of ‘Plot’:

Sui He – Bechdel Tests Worst Nightmare AKA Female Character Only Exists To Further Male Story And Fawn Over Him.

Run Yu – But By God He’s Pretty When He Suffers AKA Actually a Disney Prince Cast Into Role Of Sea Witch For Reasons Unknown.

Tu Yao – Obvious Over The Top Bad Guy Is Obvious And Will Never Let You Forget It

Tai Wei – Satan’s Butthole.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Crocodile Tears

Yandere!Shindou x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere, smuuuut, Dark/triggering themes, dubious consent, angst, Shindou being the rapscallion that he probably is

A/N: I have a few yandere requests for Shindou that are pretty similar and idk I got this idea and so uhhhhh :))) (aged up 18+)

You hugged your pillow tightly and tried not to think about him. You tried not to think about those sweet smiles he used to offer you, how he would always open your car door for you, or how he used to make you feel like you were the only person on the planet. It had been two weeks since you broke up with your boyfriend and though you were doing very well, finding anything and everything to distract yourself, during long periods of time when you had nothing else going on his dark black eyes would find their way back into your mind.

You’ve dropped all contact with him; you’ve blocked him on all of your social media, deleted every photo of him so you wouldn’t have any reason to lament over your lost relationship, and changed the lock on your doors. That was for the best. You had tried to break things of several times with him but he always had a way to convince you not to leave but you were finally to get out and you were relieved… Still, you weren’t at ease, not with yourself and not with knowing that he was out there… stewing.

And it hurt. You were fine— you. were. fine! but still it felt like a part of you, a part that you’ve poured so much of your love in for so long, had been ripped away from you! You kept telling yourself that it was for the best and sure it was but that didn’t stop your heart from aching nor the tears rolling down from your cheeks and on to your momentary companion, the pillow.

A knock at your front door caught your attention. You’d been expecting company but not so soon. You quickly dry your eyes and leapt to the mirror, giving your hair a little shake before opening the door. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Y/N…” needless to say, it wasn’t who you were expecting. You heart pounded against your rib cage as your ex, Yo Shindou, towered over you. “Can we talk?”

Damn him. Damn those sweet eyes, his cute nose, his tousled hair… he shows up with his hands tucked into his sweater pockets looking like a lost puppy!!! What were you supposed to say?!

“We can’t see each other anymore, Yo…”

You made a move to close the door but his foot stuck through the threshold. You sighed and let the door be pushed in with Shindou returning with tears in his eyes. “Please, Y/N. I just… I need to understand what really happened. I’m just,” he sniffed, “so confused.”

That pang in your chest, the reoccurring guilt, and the inevitable excitement at seeing the man you loved after so long had you bowing your head and opening the door wider and in walked the crocodile.

“How have you been?” He asked.

“Fine.”

You sat down on the couch, keeping the pillow in between the two of you. Shindou smiled sadly at you and reached for your hand. Out of habit, your fingers intertwined with his. “I’ve missed you, babe.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye. You knew that if you did, it would be all over for you just like how it had been countless other times. “...yeah.”

“You haven’t been returning my calls. Haven’t you missed me too?” He gave your hand a squeeze.

“Of course I have… it’s been really weird without you but you know that we can’t keep doing this… you know this is wrong…”

“No, Y/N, I don’t know. I don’t understand why you think we’re wrong. I know that we’ve both made mistakes but I really thought that our love was stronger than this. You were my girl. My forever…”

“God Yo, I really am not in the mood to have this discussion right now but fine! I caught you going through my phone, you always get pissy whenever I go somewhere without you, and you get so fucking jealous! It’s unreal! That time you went to my agency to check to see if I actually was there? That was weird, Shindou! And quite frankly, not healthy! And I’ve tried talking to you about this so many times and when I do, you act like you know what I’m saying but then you do it all over again!”

The tears came rushing back into his eyes. “I know,” he said, “I’ve been a real jerk about everything and I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself sometimes, Y/N. I love you so damn much that sometimes it hurts and I can act a little wild and I don’t realize what I’m doing or saying but I understand now that my actions have repercussions. Just, please, babe, please understand that… I can’t live without you.”

Shindou removed the pillow from between the two of you and scooted closer so your legs were touching. He tugged a strand of your hair. “Babyyy,” he cooed.

If your heart could shatter anymore that it already had, it would. You were hurting and the source of your heartbreak was right in front of you telling you what you wanted to hear but did not need. This feeling wasn’t fair! Not for you nor him.

You cleared your throat and involuntarily leaned into his touch. “I guess I could’ve been less, I don’t know, brutal… I’m sorry I ghosted you after everything but I didn’t know any other way… I have to be honest, you’ve scared me more than a couple times and that with my own feelings about all of this has been really hard for me too. I’m really sorry I hurt you, Yo. I’m hurt too. This sucks… so much but I don’t know. I think we could really use the space and then maybe we can see where we’re at in a couple months or something…”

You felt guilty snuggling up against him but he was warm and his scent was so nice and he was… familiar. It was wrong and you knew it was but he had always been a comfort to you. After all, you loved him.

But you didn’t see his smirk.

He wrapped an arm around you. You hardly noticed it happening. You were used him, used to his touch. His fingers brushed against your cheek down to your chin and tilted your head so you had to look at him.

“Did you get a new shampoo? You smell nice.” His thumb met your lips, drawing them out so they parted slightly. “You know you’ll always be my girl, right?”

Before you could even answer his lips were encasing yours; sweet but forceful, hot but soft, a surprise but just what you wanted, what you craved. You kissed him back running your hands through his unruly hair and tugged, a part of you wishing to pull him off of you while the other part of you knowing that he loved it.

He groaned deeply into this kiss and bit down on your bottom lip, warranting a small gasp from you which he took advantage of by rolling his tongue over yours. “Yeah,” he grinned and kissed you again, “yeah you’ll always be my girl.”

His hands wandered down and up your shirt, exploring your body, squeezing your sides, teasing your nipples. He knew how to play you, how to completely turn you on to him and as his hands trailed down your body, stopping to tickle your hip, and he did exactly that. His kisses trailed to your neck, savoring your sweet scent before dragging his tongue along the sensitive crook that made you squirm underneath him.

He chuckled, “tell me you still love me, angel.”

He aroused your puckered nipples, tweaking and pinching them. You let out a breathy sigh and rolled your hips up your front was pressed up against his hardened member. Even feeling him through your pajamas made feel so hot for him. You hated it. You hated that you wanted him. “I… do…” you let out a breathy sigh.

He pressed himself against you, rubbing up your pelvis, grinding against you. His teeth raked across skin making your stomach flutter and stirring you under your pants. His fingers traced down to the light dampening cloth and started to rub you between your lips. “And tell me you miss my fingers.”

He activated his quirk making his fingers vibrate for you. You shuddered in response. “F-fuck…”

“And tell me you miss my cock,” he growled before biting down hard on your neck.

“Fuck! No!” You whimpered and bucked your hips up. You pushed his shoulder and knocked him back. You couldn’t let him leave a mark on you!

Seemingly unphased, he simply wiped his lips and looked down at you, a hot-disheveled mess laying on the couch. He laid a hand down next to the curve of your waist and leveled his head with yours. “You don’t have to be scared of me, sweetheart,” he purred, “I only wanna take care of you. I only wanna make you cry in the best sort of way.”

“You’re the world’s greatest narcissist!” You spat. What the hell were you doing? This was not okay!

At first he looked hurt but his expression quickly changed to something different. Something darker. That grin. “Oh, I had no idea that I was internationally recognized.”

He reached his fingers back down but you slapped them away. “If you really just came here just so you could fuck me you can get lost right now.”

“Nooo, babe,” he grabbed your cheeks and forced you to look into his eyes, “If there’s anything you’re not, it’s vapid. I’m here because I’m in love with you and I haven’t left yet because you still love me. I’m here because we’re meant to be! That being said, the people wanna know: who have you been fucking?”

Dumbstruck, your mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” slowly, he started to massage your scalp, already caging you underneath him again, “you left me because you thought you found someone else, huh? So tell me Miss Y/N, who was it? I won’t be mad with you if you just tell me.”

“Yo Shindou, don’t come at me with your horrible accusations. I’ve never cheated on you!”

“Don’t tell me it was that amateur rookie, Chargebolt, or whatever the fuck unoriginal trash hero name he’s got. That little punk can’t seem to keep his hands to himself whenever he’s around…”

Your face flushed thinking about Kaminari. You rolled your eyes. “Denki’s just an old friend from school and he’s like that with literally everyone! And you know what! I don’t have to defend myself to you anymore.”

“Honestly I can’t say it doesn’t make sense. You hadn’t let me touch you much in weeks. Were you really getting your fix from that idiot?” Again his hands went down to your pajamas, this time sliding passed your elastic waistband. “Does he use his quirk on you, babe?” His fingers started to vibrate, making your body tense from the terribly wonderful sensation. “And does it feel as good as mine?”

“Yo…”

“Huh?” Slowly his fingers rubbed up and down your slit. You spread your legs from him as he teased you around your nub. “Did you moan his name just like you moan mine?”

“Yo… baby…” you sighed and grabbed onto his shoulders starting to ride the sensational waves he was sending through your body.

“Or can nobody make you feel as good as I can?” Two of his long fingers slid into you and you moaned out loud while his tremmering thumb rubbed your clit.

“He’s not… I’m not… ~ahha ahh, Yoo~,” you could already feel the coil up inside. You dug your nails into his shoulder and knitted brows together, letting out an embarrassing mewl.

He stopped his quirk but his fingers continued to thrust into you, denying you your release. “Yeah baby? It sounded like you had something to say?”

You swallowed your moan and closed your eyes. “Shindou, I don’t think you shhh- ~ohhh god~!”

He started his quirk up again and you clenched around his heinous fingers. “What’s that?” He snickered, “baby you’re gonna have to speak up! Are you trying to tell me that nobody can work you like me? You don’t have to be ashamed… you can tell me.”

You arched your back in response. He used that as an opportunity to wrap his free arm around your waist and pull you up against him so he could plunge into you deeper. You bit your lip and let out squeak, feeling the familiar pulsations build up again.

“Yeah?” He bowed his head and nibbled on your earlobe. “Spit it out, doll. We don’t have all night.”

“Mmmmphuuuhhh,” you couldn’t think, you could only feel and you were feeling him. Your toes curled as you began to spill out, becoming undone by the cocky sonofabitch finger fucking your pussy. He kissed your neck and didn’t stop until you were overwhelmed and shaking underneath him, crying out when your climax reached its peak.

“Awww,” he laughed, “my poor girl, you came so fast! Someone’s really been neglecting your needs, huh?” He raised your legs up and swiftly tore your pants away. “I guess we’re gonna have to make up for lost time,m?”

“Shindou,” you breathed, “please listen… we really… really can’t be doing this…”

“Hmm?” He lifted your shirt and began kissing your stomach. “And why is that? You think your boyfriend is gonna find you here falling apart for me?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend-!”

“Lift up your arms,” he commanded. Beside yourself, you do what you were told and let your shirt get stripped away from you. He groaned in appreciation before returning to nipping you down your body. “But you have me, sweetheart.”

He planted his lips against your shaking thighs, savoring the sound of your whimpers as his fingers began massaging you again. He has always liked hearing you squeak and he earned those pathetic noises from you when he started to suck on your soft skin, painting you in violet-red ovals. His tongue teased your clit and and you began to feel his quirk activate inside you again.

“Mmm, you taste as good as ever,” his tongue appreciatively swirled around you. Your cunt twitches as he alternated between using flat and pointed strokes. He’s soft on you but you’re already so sensitive that even hmthe gentle strokes of his tongue had you writhing underneath him. You found yourself in a spasmed daze as you run your hands through his hair and ride his tongue towards your second orgasm. You became a moaning mess, violently shaking against his power.

“God, Yo Shindou,” you cried, “that… you’re… so goood.”

“I know, angel,” he raised his head and winked at you. “Only for you though.”

With bated breath, you watched him lick his fingers clean before his pulled his shirt and sweater off. Jesus fucking Christ, his toned stomach nearly hurt to look at and by the look on his face, you could tell he knew that you loved to look at him. He grabbed your hand and placed his against his chest. You could feel his heart thrumming. “Only for you,” he reiterated.

You slid your fingers down his stomach and he flexed at your gentle touch.

“You want it, right babydoll?” His hands followed yours down to his belt buckle. “You wanna feel my cock?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Say so,” he undid his buckle. You pulled on his pants. It was so wrong. You tried to stay away from him, you tried to keep him out of your life but he waltzes into your house and suddenly you lose your mind!

“I wanna feel your cock…”

“Deep inside of you?”

“Deep inside of me, Shindou.”

Smirking, he hauled you on top of him and kissed you fiercely. He ran his hands down your back causing goosebumps to erupt across your arms and legs. He grabbed your hips and pulled you down, easily slipping his throbbing shaft into your sopping wet heat.

“Ohhhh fucking hell,” he hissed out, “I’ve missed you so damn much!” His lips trailed over your collar bone, sheathing in and out of you. His cock felt fantastic, filling up your crevices and you rolled your hips and rode the man you promised yourself you’d never see again.

Even while on top of him, he had full control over your body, gripping your ass and thrusting upwards, fucking you harder with every mewl you would give him.

“Tell me who you ruined your cunt. Tell me you’re not gonna find anyone else you can fuck you as well as I can. Don’t deny it, Y/N. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you panted, running your hands through your hair. He’s always loved when your arms were stretched up in front him so he could see your everything and you could tell nothing has changed with his appreciative growls. He wrapped his hands around you and stood up. You squealed and wrapped your legs around him, scared and thrilled by the sudden elevation.

“I’ve got you, angel,” he assured, placing you down on the couch’s arm. He pushed your back and yanked your legs closer, deepening his penetration.

“God could you get any more gorgeous?” His hands began vibrating again and he pressed them down on your stomach enhancing every boiling sensational fiber in your body. You were ignited, in love or in just; so overwhelmed, you couldn’t tell! You moaned for him, and cried his name as his hands his quaking hands squeezed your sides.

“Ohhhh,” he chuckled, “with those pretty little noises comin’ out of your mouth, apparently you can.”

With that, you broke, coming completely undone in front of him, clenching around his unforgiving cock, tears streaming down your face from your over stimulation. You choked out strangled sobs until he finally pulled himself out. He looked like the devil while he stroked himself over you and his seed shot out onto your chest.

He grinned down at the ness he’s made of you. His hands rubbed his essence around your naked trembling body, the implications of what he’d done, you didn’t want to think about.

By the time your thoughts are finally composed, Shindou already had you wrapped up in his arms flesh up against his naked body. His hands never stopped touching you even while you lay languidly against him. Satisfied but defeated you let out sigh.

“You can’t ever leave me again, Y/N. I won’t allow it.”

Pensive, you let him stroke your hair like you’re some sort of doll. Maybe you were a doll how you’d just let him fuck you like that, even if you weren’t sure you wanted him to before he started touching. “Shindou, I’m sorry but…”

Your phone on the table cut you off. You glared at it. You already knew who it was.

“But… what?” His glade was dangerous. He didn't look away from you when he asked, “you gonna answer that?”

Slowly you shake your head. Shindou clicked his tongue and reached over to grab it.

“You were gonna ask me to leave, weren’t you?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond. He checked to see that if it was who he thought it was calling.

Caller ID: Denki with a little heart next to it.

“Alright cutie, I’ll tell you what- If you haven’t been fucking anyone then I’ll leave you alone for the night. But if you have then we’ll all have to face the repercussions. Do we have a deal?”

“Shindou, please don’t answer that.”

He scoffed and shook his head. Click.

“Hey honey, I’m running a little late tonight!” You could hear Kaminari’s voice through the phone. Shindou only smirked at you. “I was just wondering what kinda shake you wanted me to get ya! A little apology for lagging!”

Shindou looked at you and licked his lips. “Her favorite is strawberry.”

It was silent over the line. Terribly silent.

“Denki, you’re about to learn what happens when you touch my girl.”

He put the phone on speaker. You heard Denki’s bated breathing and a flood of questions rang out through the phone but Shindou just laughed over them. He pinned your hands back against the couch. Overwhelmed with panic, you can’t find the words to object. Still, when your body started to shake, you succumb to your, and Shindou’s, pleasure… over and over and over...

Tags for EVERYTHING (closed): @yandere-inamorata @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction n @wickedlewicked @nevermorelanore @kpanime @ayeputita a @captain-sin-allmight-queen n @diisasterbii @iceformer r @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @andie-in-tumblland @iamthe-leaf @midnightfeline666 @rubyred-imagines imagines @kattariapenn @heypartypeps @quirktaker @thecryingsombra @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @ghost-of-todoroki @geektastic84 @davalia @glixeo @rubycubix @mekakushi-dan-01-kido

Because of my special gift @unboundbnha ;)

[chiclet-go-boom]

fracture 10: control

(a piece of fanfic stating my personal take on #404 Ben Solo Not Found)

The stars are everywhere.

He sprawls on his master’s throne, the glass pressed to his temple, and fills himself with it.

They’ve been holding for cycles in dark space, far away from any planetary systems which is unusual enough. These ships are weapons and if they are not pointed at something or someone then they are not serving their purpose. Hiding in the deep emptiness is not something the First Order does as a rule.

Still, there are always necessary calibrations, both mechanical and political and in this case cautionary. For the moment Hux is in command of where and how they are realigning and he has no agenda other than spite to cause a shift in their plans. Better they are here than anywhere else. Soon enough he needs to be a few hundred parsecs away but that is then and this is now.

Three days ago he released the remaining Knights to their tasks. Three nights and he needs to drown this however he can.

There is no red here anymore, only black. Black unto infinity everywhere he looks with the pinpricks of lights in their tens of millions to carpet it like diamonds. The viewport windows arcing high overhead give the near complete illusion that he’s sitting under a night sky. He has the nearly empty bottle of whiskey after all, the fracture of his heart and the solitude to make it real. It’s only missing the cool breeze and the ability to trip over a clump of grass down a cliff by mistake.

He closes his outward eyes to open the inner ones.

So much life. He can’t hold it all, even if he wanted to. So much death. Unravelling and combining, falling apart and coming together again over and over and over, relentlessly. He reaches further and further, inhaling as much as he can to burn through muscle, through bone. All precious. All irrelevant.  

Kylo tilts his head back against the throne and lets it wash through him, both saturation and goad. Both of his masters were skilled, their knowledge chasms deep in their respective arts. Both wanted desperately to have him be something, do something for them and yet here he is; neither jedi nor sith, neither apprentice nor master, caught still it seems between the things he wants and the things he can’t be permitted to have.

It feels like his veins are incandescent. He can feel the ship around him as if it is alive, because it is. He could tear it apart from here and he wants to so badly. Hux would probably not approve.

The potential of his bloodline indeed. Everytime he looks, he sees more. And every time he looks, he hates what he learns.

He opens his eyes just in time to feel the shunt as the gears grind, lock and everything shudders to a stop.

“You really need to not be here,” he says after a moment.

“As if we ever have a choice,” she replies. It’s only a little bitter - she’d like it to be his fault, he’s sure. She keeps her head down as she twists her hair, working with jerky motions. There’s light wherever she is, gracing her skin into flickers of gold, touching pale fingers to the column of her neck. A tremble of unwilling sunshine in the center of his stars and he’d laugh if there was anything amusing about it.

He watches because there’s no reason he shouldn’t. What he wants and can’t be permitted to have. At least she’s still alive.

She’s stubborn today. She pulls on her boots, tiny clicks against the floor as she settles into them. Snags a dark cloth belt from nowhere to wind around herself, tucking the loose fabric tight against her waist, knotting it there to fall away against her leg. She turns, cutting him off to shrug into a hooded cloak, working clever fingers at one shoulder clasp then the other to seat it right. Lightweight, meant for showers, not storms. And it’s only when she’s clothed, armored, ready to face whatever is happening to her world that she finally consents to look at him.

She freezes. Her fine eyebrows knit together as she stares which is very strange. She’s shot at him, yelled at him, ignored him, stomped away from him more than once, even cried at him but she’s never just stood there with that arrested expression before. He’s not sure what it is but it’s at least different. He tilts his head.

She blows out a breath. “Ren?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

That’s worth a smile so he gives her one. “Touch me and find out.”

She doesn’t smile back and she doesn’t step any closer. “Where are you?” she asks after a moment.

“One of Snoke’s throne rooms. My throne room now, I suppose.” He watches the unseen light catch in her eyes, curious if she’ll step into shadow at some point. She has to be inside but whatever window she’s near must be large. Planetside for sure. Temperate enough to have windows facing out, for the clothing she’s wearing. Not that that narrows down the options. “I had all the curtains torn down. I think you’d like it.”

“You’re drinking.”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing, Ren?”

“Taking a calculated risk,” he replies. “You?”

“Getting ready to go out and… do things.”

“Ah, yes. Things. Important Resistance things, I’m sure.”

Her nostrils flare. “I do what I can.”

He shrugs, fervently hoping the link will cut out. There’s still liquid in his glass and it sloshes at the tiny motion, so he sits up and inhales the last of that as well. The burn is muted now but still warm enough for all that and he appreciates it for doing what little it can. He carefully puts it down on the arm. Translucent, it nearly disappears into the black.

He wonders how he looks to her. He’s discarded his outer armor but he’s always in black; boots, pants, shirt, clasp open at the shoulder and gaping down because having anything tight across his throat right now would be… not ideal. A pit of shadow, in the center of her sun? Can she see the stars?

Of course she can’t. He’s swallowed them.

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Or at least, not as much as I would like to be.” His lips twist for that. “I told you, a calculated risk. There isn’t much that can blunt me for long without risking worse side effects.”

“Side eff... no." She changes her mind mid-thought, he can see her wondering which question she actually wants answered. "How is getting drunk a calculated risk? It’s not like it’s hard. Seems like half of everybody here manages it without even really trying. Particularly the pilots.” There's some personal exasperation there. He files it away for later consideration.

“The Resistance pilots aren’t force sensitive. Well,” he ameliorates, “that’s not precisely true. Your Best Pilot is bright enough to shine. Don’t tell him I said so though, he’s already too sure of himself. At least when he’s not screaming out his secrets.”

Her expression turns thunderous. It takes him a moment to understand that what he’s feeling is akin to regret. He’s almost sorry for reminding her of her friend’s pain. He flicks his fingers in a negating motion and settles back, lifting one leg to cross his ankle on the opposite knee. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to say that. Along with everything else alcohol does for me, it still lowers filters.”

“Every time I think…” She clenches a hand at her side. “I hate you, you know. You’re a vile, horrible man, Ben Solo.”

The fire he’s hoarding in his blood flares and his voices reaches out harder than he intended it to, rolling like undertow across the floor. “Stop it. No. Ben Solo is gone.” Something nearby chimes, shivering unhappily. “Stop trying to pretend that confused boy is somewhere inside of me still.”

She jerks her chin up defensively. “You can’t hide from yourself, Ben. You can’t hide from who you are and what you’ve done. Drinking and brooding… and feeling sorry for yourself.” She makes an impatient gesture at him. Her feet have moved to a defensive stance in the last few moments at least and somewhere he approves. She should never let her guard down with him.

He snaps his teeth. “Does it look like I’m hiding? Is that what you think this is? You keep saying that name like the person you think it belongs to will come back if you say it often enough. You never knew Ben. You weren’t there. What do you know about any of it?”

“More than you think! I know you took my friend and dragged his mind through a sieve. His nightmares have your voice in them. And you tried to do it to me too, but you couldn’t because I’m stronger! And I know that Ben Solo is afraid he can’t measure up, because I saw it in you, Kylo Ren.”

“Are you stronger then?” he inquires. “Have we decided that? Still, that’s better. I'm not confused about who I am. But you are.”

“You are divided. I saw it.”

“And you are nothing at all! You came from nowhere, you are going nowhere. Who’s left to teach you what is possible but me?” He growls with anger and frustration. “But ah, no. Not me, never me. Anything but me. Because you know so much, when you don’t even know my name.”

She jerks her head and there, there are the start of tears. Why does she cry so often at him? He’s not wrong. “Don’t I? Don’t I know you? You’re just going to sit there and tell me there’s only Kylo Ren when I still see Ben in you? Just a monster in black, no light, no compassion, who takes what he likes and hurts who he likes and kills who he likes?”

“Sometimes,” he agrees softly. “And sometimes I hurt and kill for you.”

She flinches at that as he meant her to. “Don’t you put that on me. Don’t you ever put that on me.”

“Would you rather be dead instead? You’ll care for some truths but not the rest?” He glares down his nose at her. Damn the sun she’s standing under, that lights her hair and sparks honey in her eyes. “Always wanting the answers as long as you can agree with them. Just like Skywalker.”

“Luke was a good man!” And yet as soon as she says it he can see the collapse, the breath she sucks in.

He laughs and it hurts and it seems like that is all he is ever going to be able to have. “Your precious Skywalker tried to put a blade through my heart. For the crime of daring to have doubts that what he was doing was right.”

“He regretted it. He regretted it, I know he did. He showed me.”

“And he still did it. Stood over me while I slept, while I trusted, and he wanted me dead because he could think of nothing else that would help.” He flexes his hands helplessly in front of him, wishing he had his gloves at least. “Would you like to know how that feels?” he seethes.

“Ben…”

“No. No. Ben is dead, stop pretending! I have made too many choices to ever be him. Over and over again I made and continue to make those choices, and you are lying to both of us by clinging to it. Let it go.”

She stands in sunlight, warm and bright and hating him and hoping for things that will never happen and in this moment if he could smash it all down, plunge it all into darkness, he would and he would howl in the doing of it. He stands because he has to do something with his body, wrenching himself to his full height, his hands in fists because if he reaches out he will grab and pull and rend. He hasn’t drunk enough for this too, not on top of the rest. He still feels.

“My entire life, I have never… my mother gave up, my father left us both to rot, but both of them wanted me fixed. My uncle wanted me different. Snoke wanted me broken. I have been in control of nothing my entire life and you are not going to stand there and tell me you want me to be somebody else! That you are disappointed!”

The universe twists simply because he wills it so. Glass shatters along with the bottle at his feet and the starfield wavers because of the pressure he’s exerting in reflex and there is pain in his hand, in his mind, in his heart. Something just out of sight cries with strain, metal crumpling. He fills his lungs and closes his eyes because if he has to keep looking at her face, he is going to do something truly terrible. Tells himself again that Hux will not be happy if he breaks the ship.

Blood starts to drip from his fingers. He listens and breathes and watches light and darkness eat each other alive. All precious. All irrelevant.

“You do not understand,” he whispers, shuddering, trying to shed the worst of it off like rain. “You are as alone as I am and you do not understand what I've done or why I’ve done it.”

She growls, the sound tiny. “So help me understand.”

That’s worth a smile so he gives her one, wondering what it looks like on his face. “Touch me. And I’ll show you.”

He says the words but it’s a shock when he hears her moving, a whisper of fabric and he opens his startled eyes just in time to see her reach out. He doesn’t even have time to flinch away before her fingers are locked against his throat, splaying in heated lines under his ear.

They both stiffen in shock. He feels her surprise, her fury that is already crumbling under the onslaught but it’s too late. His blood glitters with starlight and power and she smells of sunshine and dust. He can’t help it, grabs her by the back of the neck to pull her forehead to his. Her breath on his face. His on hers. Skin to skin everything surges, spilling.

Her touch is the only stability. His blood trickles, smears as he presses his lips to her ear in a fever.

“Snoke,” he whispers desperately, trying not to unravel because he did not expect her to do it, “wanted me broken for a reason. Over and over again, to keep me in place, to keep me on my knees. My master as Skywalker tried to be. Strong in the Dark because he studied it, immersed himself in it for years beyond counting. Courted it like a lover, gave it every sacrifice it asked for and more. And not once did he touch what I can do.”

“Stars. I feel. Everything,” she breathes. “All of it. Everywhere.”

“When I reach, this is what I see. This is what is.”

“What have you done?" Her thoughts are starting to tangle with his, even as her body sways into his or his into hers.

He moves his lips helplessly over her temple, the corner of her eye. “What I had to. Control. I will have control of this. I will have control of all of it. Someone who was there is dead. Someone who knew Ben. Knew me, as I was then. Chose me, as I was then. Followed me from the light into the dark because they believed. In me.”

His hand strokes hard down her side because he can do nothing else, even as her other hand slides helplessly into the gapped collar of his shirt, dragging heat and callus along his collarbone. So good. So right.

“Chose me, Rey. Three days dead because they tried to betray me and I... I tore them to pieces. And I am drinking because if I don’t smother this pain, I will crack this dreadnought apart by its seams because I didn’t want to do it and I am angry that it was necessary. And because I am drinking, I am remembering Han Solo and that the Dark cares only for sacrifices that mean something. And because I am drinking my walls are down and I can see what Skywalker saw in me and what Snoke wanted as he tore me apart and whatever he thought he knew, he wasn’t even close to it. This was a very calculated risk,” he breathes, “and you were not supposed to be here to give me a target for it.”

“Ben.”

“My name, Rey,” he hisses out between his teeth, nuzzling behind her ear, dragging his chin over the soft skin. “You are nothing and no one. No one ever wanted anything from you, because no one thought you capable of anything. You could go back to your desert tomorrow, disappear into the sands and no one would look for you or could find you if they did. Do what I couldn’t. Run.”

Her hand locks into his hair and he shudders. Run his cheek over hers obsessively, curls an arm hard around her waist to drag her yet closer. Her breath skitters over his collarbone, his throat, her fingers curling to scratch hard down his chest through the cloth and he wants her teeth, her mouth, the air she struggles for. If he kisses her, if they kiss…  he distracts himself with the feel of her, hands grasping over and over. Hip, waist, the splay of her ribs under his spreading fingers. He expands out and pulls yet more in and starts to push it into her, everywhere they touch, faster and faster. The alcohol in his gut isn’t enough to hold this back.

“My grandfather was a Skywalker. As my mother is. And my father broke the record on the Kessel Run by threading a needle between two hungry singularities because the universe loved him just that much.” He closes his mouth over the hinge of her jaw because he can’t help it anymore and cannot tell whether the groan is his or hers. “I was born to this. For this. The Light told me I was supposed to care for nothing and I feel everything.”

She cries out, shoves him back and he lets her.

And there is still light on her hair but her eyes are wide and angry as he is angry and her mouth is nearly snarling.

“Tell me my name,” he growls.

“Kylo Ren,” she shudders back.

“They chose me and they still died. And you... you didn't even do that much. If it's necessary to kill you too, I will.”

“I know. I feel it. You don’t feel sorry for yourself at all, do you?”

He swallows and of course she is gone.

He shudders and his eyes are black. He reaches out and the floor buckles, heaving up.

He stops short of breaching the windows at least.

[braindamageforbeginners]

A Few Words on Clinical Trials...

14 months, two weeks post-dx

It’s come to my attention that there are people following me on social media hoping I’ll figure out how to survive a deadly disease. Gods bless ‘em; that’s now obviously my core function (well, in addition to figuring out how to get a career and/or life that can survive a brain that not infrequently shudders to a halt and explodes)(which reminds me, I got the car fixed, which is a sort of victory unto itself). So, here’s the deal; full disclosure.

A helluva lot of luck is involved. At every step. First of all, I had my first tumor (probably unrelated, but it’s still extremely suspicious) at age 17, which was successfully and completely surgically removed. However, the longest I’ve gone between MRIs is 12 months, so I was tagged and tracked at such an early point that they detected Tumor #2 (astrocytoma grade II) and removed it as soon as possible (ASAP in this case being a 10-month delay while Obamacare protections and funding came into effect so that I could get insurance)(yes, people do die of treatable diseases in America). And, since astrocytoma tends to come back angry (as it already did), I was closely monitored for the two inter-tumor years between Tumor #2 and #3 (I once calculated I’ve had almost 40 MRIs in my life)(there might be a correlation between that).

Secondly, I was able to get into a clinical trial - and stay in one. I’ve written about that previously, but a major takeaway is that you can always refuse treatment or leave a clinical trial, but if you formally leave or are removed, you never, ever get to come back. Also, due to the specificity of cancer treatments, there are loads and loads of qualifying or disqualifying factors for who is and isn’t eligible for a trial - Again, these are usually for patient safety (if you think otherwise, I’d challenge you to inject a known toxic substance into your system and see what happens). I do know, from working at a biotech company, that, even though the costs of running these trials doesn’t justify the $300K that Pfizer plans on charging for treatments, they aren’t cheap, and, if I were a cynical man, I’d try to jam-pack my experimental drug trial with as many people as possible who looked like they’d survive on standard-of-care (SOC is legally required in addition to all experimental treatments). To that end, I’m also lucky  - again, in a very weird, funky way.

There are three different forms of the IDH gene in gliomas; I don’t have the best one, nor do I have the worst one. However, “second best” is miles better than the worst one. I also have a methylated MGMT gene, which is important - the unmethylated version is resistant to radiation treatment, which is bad. I also have an ATRX mutation, which is relatively rare, but confers a high five-year survival rate (in this case “high” is 30-50%, which is considered failing in most places).

And I’m young (less than 40) and relatively healthy, which is another good predictor - whether it’s because that means I’m more likely to survive the nastiest napalm baths available and ask for more (and that makes oncologists considerably less ginger about starting you off with the nastiest stuff imaginable), or whether there’s some intrinsic anti-cancer aspect of youth, I honestly don’t know. Same goes with tolerating treatment well - I don’t know if that’s a correlation/causation issue, but again, anything that makes your oncologists feel safer about ordering more/harsher treatment is probably going to add to your life expectancy (if the chemo and radiation doesn’t kill you first). I honestly don’t know if I’d’ve been written off if I was morbidly obese and had heart problems.

So far in my grand design to survive the unsurvivable and pass that on, I realize I’m not coming up with superb results that can be easily replicated. Youth and mutations are random chance, getting into a trial is a matter of being in the right place at the right time (as so much else in life)(although you can do research through clinicaltrials.gov to see if there’s anything you might qualify for).

The advice I can give is this; and it’s worked for me, so far (feel free to change, ignore, or discard it as applicable to your situation):

1. Early detection is key. Familiarize yourself with the most common risk factors and symptoms of brain tumors, and floor it to a neurologist when you have them.

2. Get the very best quality of care, and be prepared to travel. This one is huge. For some reason, lots of people are eager to have their hometown hero perform on them, and the results are usually horrific. When you have brain cancer, the difference between “the very best” and “well qualified” is measured in corpses.

3. Don’t take “No” for an answer. I realise we all need to get better at consent issues, but the word “inoperable” needs to be removed from the medical lexicon immediately. Someone recently accused me of giving false hope when I linked to Anderson MD’s list of GBM myths that “inoperable” is usually code for a facility that doesn’t have the expertise, competence, or technical facilities needed to successfully operate on it. In other words, someone out there will have the ability to do something for you, likely surgically if you move fast enough. Yeah, that might be false hope, but you know what false hope beats the shit out of? Completely hopeless. Real grown-ups are surprisingly fragile and tend to go to pieces at the smallest things. In the past year, I’ve seen my parents throw temper tantrums over arguments they’ve had with my siblings, or an ant infestation. If that’s your mindset, then, yeah, you’re going to be paralyzed and lose that window of opportunity to beat this thing. As I wrote previously, you’re going to go into complete, paralytic shock the first 48-96 hours after you get a diagnosis. Enjoy it, because you don’t ever get to panic, ever again. Same thing with “inoperable,” if you want to accept that and  die, that’s your decision. Survival - of any sort - is not for the faint of heart, and you will  have to drag yourself across that finish line (or have your friends help you). Again, passing on some wisdom from Original Research Coordinator, the first 6-10 weeks post-diagnosis are the deciding factor for glioblastoma. If someone refuses to treat you, ask for a referral.

4. Stick through the entire treatment regimen. I’ve written previously that there are a lot of things you can do to make yourself more comfortable and healthy during chemo and radiation (that would be where the “complementary medicine” comes in). Again, you can quit treatment at any point, but you can’t always continue it  And, as I know, once post-surgical options get removed, they never come back.

5. Complementary, not alternative medicine. There is no cure “they” don’t want you to know about, there is no secret cancer survivor meeting where we all toast each other on finding the fountain of health - you’re thinking of Skull and Bones. Having said that, I get it - cancer treatments of any sort are a shit sandwich and you’re going to have to just get over it and take a big bite. It’s seductive to think there’s a less painful, disruptive, and dangerous path. Don’t believe it for a minute - you’ve gotten a raw deal, and you have to get over it. Having said that, exercise, diet, and lots of CDB (and THC)(don’t smoke it, though) probably made the difference for me completing the full 12 cycles of chemo. I never for a minute thought they would cure of me of anything, but they might allow you to survive the cure.

6. Follow your doctor’s recommendations and orders. Americans are the only people in the world who will happily accept a mechanics’ bill for five grand without doing any research or shopping around; but will argue with a trained professional about an obscure aspect of treatment or research. Back in the third or fourth cycle, at Mom’s recommendation, I asked Head Warlock in Charge (HWIC) about hyperbaric oxygen chambers (they’re good for radiation recovery). He nixed it (Mad Scientist also said she wouldn’t recommend it), and, at the next MRI, I was rewarded with a new glowing dot. In this case, that turned out to be further radiation scarring, but what if that bet had gone the other way? And, in defense of HWIC, he did mention in the most recent consult that he’d be willing to sign off on the hyperbaric chamber in a few months, if there wasn’t any further growth and my radiation scaring wasn’t improving (for those of you who’ve seen me recently, the scarring is only visible from the inside of my skull).

[terraclae]

Spoken for

Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue @rasvimhia

This isn't the usual chapter since it isn't very long or focuses on Arodan or Paramo's crew but instead on Raz and such. This is a bit of a side chapter to update where they are right now.

‘You know I try to take care of you, do you not?’

Were you? Were you really?

He paced around Raz more, one more circle of the many. Where he had walked the ground had started to erode. The circle marked the shield Raz had that didn’t expand as many times as he might try. It seemed so fragile now, ready to shatter at any second. In this way there would be nothing to protect him from Guillaume then.

‘Really, all I’ve ever done is for you. We had a lovely home, every day I made sure you were comfortable. You’re sensitive, you know that.’ He continued, pacing more circles. He dragged a hand alongside the wall of the shield and it left a long set of lines along it. ‘I loved you. We didn’t need words, we didn’t need complications. You had all you’ve ever needed.’

‘You didn’t love me.’ Raz quietly managed to speak then, his voice drifting from half of the pearl in his arms. Black lines ran along his skin and from them yellow flowers bloomed. ‘You took everything from me. Any sense I was not broken. How is that love?’

‘Oh, you aren’t broken-‘ Guillaume said. He leant against the barrier, deeply furious eyes focused on Raz. ‘But you are misguided. I was helping you and all you’ve done is ruined your own life.’ Raz didn’t dare to say anything yet so Guillaume continued pacing. ‘We understand each other Raz. All we need is each other.’ He leant down and was at Raz’s level now, sitting outside the barrier with both hands on it, nails digging into it. ‘You say the stupidest things sometimes, but I forgive you. It doesn’t matter because you know who you belong to.’

‘No-‘ Raz crept backwards. His retort was cut off by the barrier cracking and he was left curled up with his pearl close to his chest. ‘I don’t want to listen anymore. You’re wrong, they told me so.’

‘Yes, they told you so. And what did I say about people telling you things?’ Guillaume hummed. Something cracked and Raz knew it was the barrier. ‘You shouldn’t listen to people like that. After all, they are liars, and you’re gullible and stupid.’ His nails dug into the barrier, just as ready to tear into Raz once he got through it. ‘It’s too late now. But even then, it doesn’t matter what you think.’ He tore a sizable enough hole to push his face through. ‘It doesn’t matter what they tell you to make you feel better for a moment. They will never love you the way I loved you and the way I understood you.’ His voice dropped in tone and grew sharper with every breath. ‘Without me you are nothing. You are part of me.’ He laughed then and he managed to stick his arm through the hole to reach for Raz. ‘Like that pearl of yours. Just as broken, and one part with my body. You will never get it back out there.’

‘I… Didn't mean to-‘

‘Raz.’ There was the sound of wind, briefly. Just hints, splashes of blue, flitted through the dream, through him. He was pulled out as if he had been underwater and drowning for a long time and soon Raz found himself sitting up. A soft hand was settled on his that he stared at for a while. It drew back slowly to not scare him. This hand was Ronan’s, and he sat right besides him, a concerned thrill to his voice. ‘You okay?’ The sounds of Ronan’s voice emptied the space and whatever trace there had been if Guillaume was gone. Raz nodded in response. 'Good. You're dreaming.'

'I know. This isn't possible after all.' Raz's voice echoed from his pearl. He uncurled and got up, Ronan following his ascent. 'Yet it feels like he's right there still.' Raz shot Ronan a long hard look. 'How are you in here?'

'I panicked.' Ronan confessed, rubbing the back of his head. 'Sorry buddy, I shouldn't just have come into your head without warning.' He folded his hands. 'But you sounded like you were in pain.'

'I sounded… Was I too loud, I didn't wake you up right?' Raz asked, bowing his head. 'I'm sorry.'

'No, I sense that sort of thing. It's okay, you didn't wake us.' Ronan looked around. 'You've spoken to Moira about me, right? About what I do?' Ronan's gaze fell on the floor. Red fluid had started to spread out along the floor around their feet. 'I suspect you need my help bringing order to your mind. But the choice is in your hands to decide whether you will let me. I will do nothing without your consent, this was a grave error on my behalf.'

Raz paused. He looked down at the red below him, the blood. He knew whose blood this was and told himself it could not hurt him. He could not hurt him anymore. Ronan must have known who it belonged to just looking at it. He held up his arms, and took note of the black handprints that broke the lines across his body. The marred many places but some had started fading. 'Please help me Ronan. Just… One night of sleep, that is all I ask.'

'That's all I need.' Ronan said, his lips curling into a little smile. He stepped forward, one hand rising. From nothingness he pulled a shimmering pink and purple cloak around himself, his footsteps leaving white prints from which shining beetles flew and in turn faded away. He spun on his heel and like his cloak he pulled a golden staff from the nothing to hold in his hand. He stood before Raz and held out his hand. 'I'll make sure you'll wake up peacefully in the morning. I can't remove the trauma but I'll soothe the memory for now.'

'Ronan?' Raz held out his hand but paused before he put it in Ronan's. 'You can see I'm Shade infected. It's obvious.' He lowered his head and there was a dishonest waver to the way he spoke. 'Is it a problem and is it something that can hurt you?'

'It's never quite….' Raz lowered his hand into Ronan's and the dark of the Shade retreated up his arm away from Ronan. '... Stuck to me. I can purge it if you want to although this might take a while. It… Looks like it has taken to you quite strongly.' He surveyed the Shade that ran along Raz's skin further. Momentarily his brow furrowed as if he had seen something odd yet he smiled gently. 'It's not going to stop me from helping you out.'

'Okay.' Raz mumbled, averting his eyes. '... Who are you Ronan? Why are you here?'

'That's a long story friend. Let's just say for now I'm not quite from around here.' He pulled Raz towards and into his cloak, so he was snug against him. 'I'm here because I quite like this world and some things are amiss with it. I can't help but try and fix a few things.'

'Maybe you're like those people my father spoke of. I didn't think those existed.' Raz murmured, pulling the cloak around him. He was drifting out of his dream, he knew that, but where to? What he knew now was that there was something safe about the way he was now, that this was okay. 'People from beyond this world and the next.'

'Maybe I am.' Ronan hummed. He brushed over Raz's head gently. He had taken a gentle glow. 'It's gonna be okay, Raz.'

'Maybe.'

'I've seen it happen before. You'll be okay.'

Under his hand Raz took on the glow, and faded into a light that floated before Ronan. He bumped it with his staff gently, giggling as the orb shaped light before him floated forward and bumped against his forehead. They acknowledged each other, dream maker and the pure essence of a dreamer. Softly Ronan spoke. 'Okay Raz, show me where I can and can't go. Let's clean up this head of yours.'

*

The sunlight was the first thing he felt that morning. It was dim and bounced off the pale rocks outside into the cave, warming it up. Raz lay bundled up in Mithra's coat in a cooler corner and as much as he wanted to ask her whether she didn't need it herself he couldn't. Physically it wasn't impossible, he just needed to stop himself from apologizing for every little thing others did because he needed the help. He woke up slowly and with half a mind to roll around and close his eyes again. Instead he looked around cautiously. Moira was still asleep, he wasn't certain where Ronan went. Mithra however was awake, lounging with her feet up on a rock. She hadn't noticed him waking up yet. She did once he sat up. 'Morning sleepyhead.'

He lifted his hand and waved at her, managing to smile. Mithra silently threaded over to him and plopped down cross legged besides him. 'Hey, that smile looks nice on you! Did you sleep okay? Any nightmares?'

Raz shook his head and started to search for his paper. When he couldn't find it he turned back to Mithra uncertainly, lifting his hand. He signed in stiff wide gestures and used his darting eye to communicate what he intended to say. 'Ronan helped me.'

'Ronan? Did he jump into your head and all that?' Mithra quietly asked. Raz nodded in response, his eye falling on his prosthetic besides him. 'Well, that's good. Wasn't too weird I hope, it can be strange the first time around.' Mithra bent around Raz and found his paper and pen for him, putting it on his lap. 'You know Raz, I meant to ask you, but what sorts of stuff do you like? I know you're looking for someone, but we're almost in Glasir you know, it's pretty big. There's a lot of stuff to do there.'

'You want me to come along into the city with you?' Raz wrote this and handed the note to Mithra. She responded at first with a broad grin. Raz started to write another longer note Mithra eagerly waited for him to finish. He handed it back to her. 'I do kind of feel like spoiling myself, maybe with cakes, or sweets. It's been a while since I've had my favorite foods.' He suddenly lit up and quickly wrote Glasir on a piece of paper before signing. 'It's by the ocean right?'

'Yeah, it's a big city by the ocean. They're pretty big on fish but I don't doubt they have a lot of other stuff.' Mithra replied, stretching her body. 'You like sweet things, Raz?'

Raz nodded fervently, bouncing where he sat. Mithra in response glanced around and started to search her pockets. Wordlessly she took a round pastel pink package out of her pocket and put it on Raz's lap. 'I took that from the shopkeeper we stopped at yesterday.'

Raz's eyes went wide and he took another piece of paper to write. 'Mithra, I can't accept stolen things.' He looked at the piece of candy hesitantly then picked it up, peeling the wrapper away with his thumb. It was a small round piece of chocolate that smelled of cherries. He put it down again and wrote another note. 'Can we please go back later to pay for this?'

'I did pay for it actually. I just forgot to initially.' Mithra responded meekly, feeling she didn't have a particular reason to be offended by this assumption. 'It's an old habit but I try to remind myself to pay.' She folded her hands. 'In my early days on this continent it was a little more difficult to get around and me and my brother had to adapt. He was better with people, they were drawn in to his charm.' She tapped her fingers against each other idly. 'I was too brash and just wanted to party and fight. I still want to do that to be honest.'

'And you stole?' Raz signed this this time. He reached around him and picked up his prosthetic, holding it out to Mithra so she could help him with it. He looked at her fondly once she started to help him with attaching the prosthetic, pulling the sling so it sat snugly. Magic whirred through it and although it was archaic and not very maneuverable it responded to his nerves well enough.

'I did steal initially. Then I met Ronan and Moira. They were already travelling along with a caravan and Moira actually tried to lop my head off with her spear once.' She said and whistled this quietly, her gaze falling on Moira rolled around wearily as if she knew in sleep she was being looked at. 'She also sold me on coming along and I'm a better person thanks to her.'

'Huh. I pegged Ronan to be the one to change you.' Raz wrote. Mithra couldn't help but stifle a laugh then and he wrote another note. He was running out of paper it seemed. 'He seems like that sort of person.'

'He is, but I also thought he was a nosy prick at first. Helpful, a sweetheart, but really really annoying if he wants to be.' Mithra said, fondly looking at the cave's entrance then. 'Ronan liked my brother though, they got along well. They're both goofballs.' She wobbled back and forth where she sat. 'I liked Moira and that she helped me to find the right path again. I'm thankful for them both, who knows where I'd be now?'

'What happened to your brother?' Raz handed her the note and Mithra was quiet for a long time. She sat there staring at the note, with a tense unbroken stare. When she chose to make a sort of noise it was a nervous chuckle and she hid her mouth behind her hand, looking off.

'That's my fault. Dima left because of me.' Mithra muttered to herself, turning to Raz slowly. 'It's a… Long story. I don't know if the morning is long enough to tell you all of that.' She grinned, almost painful in how forced it seemed. 'All I know is that one moment we were having a fight, about going home, about that I was distant, and in the next he was gone, taken away.'

Raz looked over her. There was a tremble to her hands and an iron glaze to her eyes that seemed familiar to him. He took her coat and put it back over her shoulders quietly, settling down against her side, writing another note. 'It's going to be okay.'

'I know buddy.' Mithra hummed, nudging Raz's side. She pocketed this note for herself. 'I know.' She relaxed more then, getting up. Her path was towards Moira where she bent down and promptly let herself fall onto Moira. 'Wake up sleepyhead, we gotta go.'

'Go away Mithra, five more minutes.'

'You can rest eternally when we figure out what's keeping you here!'

Raz got up and didn't take particular further note of Mithra and Moira who had started to tumble around, laughing as they did. He ate the chocolate as he walked and for just a moment he couldn't help but hum and loudly at that too, skipping the rest of the way. It was too sweet, that he knew, but the instant he ate it he got a rush of sugar he hadn't felt in a long time. Just that made him feel like eating an entire cake. He found Ronan outside the cave basking in the sun.

'Someone looks happy.' Ronan chimed as he turned and saw Raz approach. 'Did Mithra give you that candy she initially stole?'

Raz nodded and came to bask besides Ronan in the sun. He shot Ronan a quick look every now and then, expecting him to say something. Nothing came as a continuation so Raz wrote a note to Ronan. 'Is everything alright?'

'Oh yeah, I'm okay. Just didn't sleep a lot myself.' Ronan hummed and shrugged. 'It's nothing you did, and I feel like I got to know you better on your own terms.' There was a moment then that Ronan frowned and bent down. 'Raz, can I ask you something?'

'What is it?' Raz signed, and waited for Ronan to speak. He first pointed at Raz's eyepatch however and pulled his hand away when Raz seemed to experience discomfort because of this. Ronan gestured his finger upwards and after a moment or two Raz did lift the eyepatch. A bright, pink eye shone from the shadow his eyepatch cast, that contrasted heavily with the dark purple of his other eye.

'Did they give that to you too?' Ronan asked and by Raz's silence and him hiding the eye behind the eyepatch again he guessed that was a yes. 'Whose was it?'

Raz took a note and shakily scribbled a name. He needed two times to get the name right. The note read "Pia" and he pointed at his eye, waving his fingers in a manner and balling his fist in violent fashion.

'Was that a sibling of yours?'

Raz nodded once more. He dragged a hand through his hair and looked more angry than anything at that moment. He snapped from his anger once Ronan put an assuring hand on his shoulder.

'I have one more question.' Ronan said then. Raz looked ready to answer what he was to ask and already rested his pen on the paper. 'What is the nature of your Shade? What does it do?' He took a deep breath. 'I haven't seen Shade like yours before.'

Raz shook just a moment and glanced around. He started of tapping his face in the way of a nervous tic, from there up to fumbling with his hair, until finally he ran his fingers nervously alongside the front ridge of the horn on his forehead. In his wondering he spotted a Storm seeker sitting on a rock not far from them. He gestured for Ronan to watch with one hand while raising his other. The Storm seeker saw his movements and looked about to fly off. Raz focused on it and soon blackness spread along his hand and in veiny patterns along his face. The Storm seeker's behavior went from disinterested and skittish to seemingly fascinated enough with Raz to fly over to him and perch on his arm. Raz scratched it's chin and just briefly it's eyes flashed black. It bent down and bumped it's head against Raz's affectionately. As the blackness that marred Raz disappeared he showed the Storm Seeker to Ronan with a heavy gesture using his prosthetic arm.

Ronan blinked a few times and took a subconscious step back. 'Emotional manipulation?' The Storm seeker cawed agreeably in response. '... You… Is this your first time demonstrating it in front of people?' Raz shook his head, and held up a finger. 

He nudged the seeker to sit on his head instead and wrote another note he handed to Ronan. 'This was the first skill I figured out how to use. But just this one skill is not what I was born for according to my father.' The bird on his head looked down at him with beady blue eyes, then at Ronan who was still reading. 'I was created to have many talents, and to take his place if he would ever die. I was to become him, at some point.'

'You are… A true Shade abomination then?' Ronan asked and there was a moment Raz swore he could hear his voice shake. His gaze narrowed. 'I see… You… You aren't going to hurt anyone, right?'

Raz perked up and stared at Ronan wide eyed. He managed to sign somehow. 'Why would you ask that?' He shook his head slowly. 'I don't mean to hurt you, or the others, you aren't… You're my friends.'

Ronan fidgeted with a stray curl in his hair and looked into the cave. Moira and Mithra where already packed up and looked ready to go. He turned back to Raz and put his hand on his shoulder. 'Yeah, you're our friend. I just wanted to be certain.'

'Woah Raz, where did you get that?!' Mithra explained, immediately drawn in by the bird on Raz's head. It leant away from her and purposefully around her hand in the strangest of ways until it finally chose to hide in Raz's arms. 'Can we keep it?'

'I don't know, it's a wild animal Mithra.' Moira added in too quietly to really be noticed. Her hand twitched slightly looking at the bird and just for a moment lifted and dropped again. 'So, last stretch today?' Glasir was visible in the distance and they would reach it by evening. It looked shiny even from this distance.

'Yep. Better get going, you two ladies can continue your wrestling once we're there.' Ronan responded smugly, immediately taking his draconic form. 'C'mon y'all. Race you to the city.'

'Don't you dare get a headstart.' Mithra grunted, throwing an expectant look at Moira. Moira however already took off before Mithra could climb up, leaving her standing in a dustcloud. 'Moira, babe, come on.' Raz's tail tapped her side however and she saw him standing on a distance from Ronan, waiting for her to climb on. Half of his pearl hung from a frail looking string around his neck. 'I knew I could rely on someone.'She climbed on and the Storm seeker Raz had called to him briefly circled her head before flying ahead. They took off into the clear skies, hastily making their way to their for now final destination.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Someday Your Child May Cry

Previous: Question | Preparations | Irrational | Confession | Collateral | Thoughtless | Interrupted | Recovering | Irresponsible | Possibility | Devastation | Confrontation | Generous | Confirmation | Understanding | Sight | Insatiable | Agreement | Family

A/N: This chapter contains potentially triggering content.

20. Threatened

She’s just about out of chances.

She knows this, not because anyone has told her, but because of the way that Spender has sneered at her whenever she’s been in his presence, these past weeks. He has a plan, he needs her help, and should she deviate from what is required of her, even the slightest bit, she’s finished.

And by “finished,” she doesn’t mean “fired.”

It’s this thought that forces her across town to American University the moment Alex Krycek calls her cell phone. The implicit threat on her life is what drives her to haul Fox up off of the floor in the stairwell, to ignore his faint protests as she guides him to her car, to bat his hands away as he tries to keep her from fastening the seat belt across his lap.

As Diana pulls out of the parking lot, heading for Arlington, Fox turns to look at her. His head is swiveling on his neck, he’s got about as much control over it as a rag doll, but still, he manages to fix her with a cold, angry look.

“I know what you did,” he says, his voice hoarse and slurring. She glances at him, eyebrows raised, and looks away again. Even in his pitiable state, the way he’s looking at her hurts.

“I’ve done a lot, Fox,” she says. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“To Scully,” he says. “I know what you did to Scully.” 

“I haven’t done anything to your partner, Fox,” Diana snaps- and technically, it’s the truth. Spender’s men had only altered the fetus; no one has put their hands on Scully without her permission- at least, not yet. If she shows up right now and gets in the way, Diana will have no choice.

Diana is startled out of her thoughts by Mulder’s sharp intake of breath, and when she glances over at him, he’s glaring at her with undisguised fury. It suddenly occurs to her that he may be far more difficult to manipulate than she had anticipated. Whatever has happened since the events at El Rico, Mulder’s opinion of her seems to have deteriorated.

“Fox,” she says, careful to keep her voice gentle, “you’re not yourself. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’re not thinking clearly. You need to go home and rest.”

“You can try to distract me all you want, Diana,” he says. “It’s not going to work.”

We’ll see about that, Diana thinks to herself. Her orders are to keep him calm, to keep him from his partner, and to keep him from hurting himself long enough for Spender to finish making his arrangements at the hospital and at the Department of Defense. She’s still got one powerful weapon left in her arsenal, and if her ex-husband is even remotely the same man that he once was, it’s guaranteed to work.

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

Diana is right about one thing: Mulder is not himself. He doesn’t have the strength to fight back as she all but drags him up to his apartment and dumps him into his bed. He tries to sit up, but is immediately dizzy and collapses back onto his pillow with a groan. Diana pulls the blankets out from underneath him and tucks him in, her face dripping with false sympathy and concern.

He can’t work out what, exactly, she has planned for him, but he can tell from the tone of her thoughts that she’s here on Spender’s orders, and that Spender needs Mulder for something of great importance. Diana seems to be here to hold him, to keep him away from Scully, Skinner, or anyone else who might interfere, and to help give the impression that he’s sick enough to warrant hospitalization. It’s what comes afterwards that he can’t quite make out in Diana’s mind- though he’s certain it won’t be anything good, at least not for him.

One thing is crystal clear to him, however: Scully must be kept away, at least for now. If she comes to his apartment, if she interferes in any way, Spender is prepared to take her out. Diana’s intentions where Mulder is concerned might be muddled and difficult for him to decipher, but he’s having absolutely no trouble seeing what she would do to Scully, should his partner show up and try to take charge of his care- nor is he having any difficulty sensing how much Diana would enjoy doing it.

He knows now, beyond any shadow of a doubt: Diana hates Scully, for convincing him to give his partner what he had once denied his wife. Diana will not hesitate to harm Scully, should the need arise; on the contrary, she seems to take great pleasure in the idea.

And so, knowing this, when Scully calls from New Mexico, Mulder summons all of his willpower to keep himself from asking her to come home, from begging her to come and rescue from Diana’s clutches. Instead, he argues with her, goads her, challenges her... and finally, hangs up on her. Let her stay in New Mexico, trying to find evidence to prove him wrong, thereby keeping herself and the baby safe, and far away from Diana.

He hears Diana on the phone with someone else, and then there’s a brief silence... and then, quiet footsteps are padding towards him across his bedroom floor. He hears a soft shushing sound, as though a piece of clothing has just hit the floorboards, and moments later, the mattress dips behind him, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Fox?” Diana rolls him to face her, and he sees, with a jolt of horror, that she’s removed her shirt. “Let me help you feel better, Fox,” she croons, sliding a hand under his shirt and snuggling close. Mulder jerks at the touch of her hand on his bare skin, pulling away from her, but she follows him. She pushes him onto his back, working the fabric of his t-shirt upwards, exposing his torso, and bends to kiss his neck. He struggles, but she’s leaning almost all of her weight onto him, and in his weakened state, he can’t dislodge her.

“No,” he groans, his headache intensifying as he fights back harder. “Diana, NO.” But she continues as though she hasn’t heard him... and god help him, he can feel himself beginning to respond, human physiology trumping his will, and he realizes with a sickening shock that she could very well do this to him entirely without his consent.

Her hand creeps downwards, unbuckling his belt, and that’s all it takes to galvanize him enough to make one last attempt. He jerks his head forward sharply, striking Diana in the forehead, knocking her backwards, and at the same time, he rolls away from her. He falls off of the bed and hits the floor with an ungraceful thump, stars flashing in front of his eyes... but at least she’s no longer touching him.

When his vision clears, he sees Diana stalking around the foot of the bed towards him, all vestiges of warmth gone from her face. She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a syringe.

“I had hoped to avoid going to these lengths, Fox,” she says, uncapping the needle, “but you’ve left me no choice.” And before Mulder can move, she jabs the needle into his leg, depresses the plunger, and the world goes dark.

[beelieveinfandom]

Haunted and Hunted Chapter Three

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5               AO3 Link

AO3 is highly advised due to Tumblr having formatting issues.

Magi Hurtzog,

Please excuse the primitive nature of this notice. Conventional means of communication are to be assumed compromised.

  We are contacting you with an offer we believe to be of special interest to you. A creature, one you’ve expressed significant interest in facing in the past, is in a position of extreme weakness. This window of opportunity will be very short lived, and it is paramount that the situation be contained and controlled before it closes.

  We are willing to pay tenfold your normal rate for taking care of an S-class entity.

  If you wish to pursue this opportunity, please get to the coordinates on the back of this sheet as soon as you are able.

  Thank you for your consideration.

   “I think I’m picking up on something,” Renee said, the dowsing rod she made tugging on her arms gently.

  “Oh, is it the river?”

  “Vin, this points to food, not water.”

  “Could it point to the river anyway? I still really want to see a river.”

  “Sure, we’ll just eat the river.” She flicked her wrist. “It would sustain us for at least the time it would take us to get caught for hanging out somewhere that exposed.”

  “Oh, hold the phone, Renee.” Vin stopped walking and put a hand to his forehead. “I’m getting some future vision going down. We gotta go to the river, or uh, we’ll like die or some shit. So I’m cool either way but I figured maybe you might want to head riverward?”

  “How could I ever manage without you?”

“He’s a helper,” Charlie said.

  Charlie was feeling a lot better than the day before. Or, not better, because Charlie hadn’t been feeling particularly bad per se, but more normal. Or, not more normal, because normally ze wasn’t walking on heavily blistered feet with an awful pressure filling zir head, normally ze didn’t have a deep exhaustion weighing down zir bones so soon after waking, normally ze didn’t have aches in every muscle like a thousand toothless hounds were clamping down on them with powerful jaws. Real. Charlie was feeling a lot more real than the day before.

  As pain blossomed along the sole of zir foot, Charlie couldn’t help but regret exactly how real ze felt today. Dissociation was easier to deal with.

  “I’m the best helper,” Vin chirped. “Goddamn fifth time nominee of the helper of the year award right here, and this time I’m in it to win. Going to be so helpful you won't know what to do with yourself, ‘cause I’ll already be doing it for you. Gonna unleash the goddamn helpocalypse on the unsuspecting masses, getting cats out of trees and old ladies across the street until everyone is slightly grateful but mostly rightfully afraid of my apparently limitless ability to arrive from seemingly nowhere with unasked-for assistance.”

  They followed the rod’s pull as much as they could through the thick woodland.

  “Hey, Charlie?” Vin asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s your deal, anyway? You still got some miraculously helpful family somewhere that you could deus ex machina outta your ass or are you another orphan or what?”

  “Vin!” Renee cried.

  “What?”

  “You can’t just pry into someone’s past like that,” she said with crossed arms.

  “Maybe you can’t,” Vin said, “but I can and did.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Charlie said. “I don’t mind talking about it. I do have some family, but I don’t imagine they could be helpful here. My sister’s the only one I’ve ever really talked to, and she’s younger than I am.”

  “She from the foster home too?” Vin asked.

  “No, she lives with my parents.”

  “Wait, you still have parents?” Vin cocked his head. “Why are you living in a home then?”

  “It’s a foster home, not like, a dead parent club.” Charlie shrugged. “Lots of us still have living parents somewhere. Mine gave me up to the State when I was a baby. I’m guessing they probably got testing and decided they didn’t want to deal with a child with Autism? We’ve never talked so I’m not sure.”

  “What the actual fuck?” Vin exclaimed. “Is that even legal?”

  “Well yeah,” Charlie said, “you can give up a kid for pretty much any reason. They don’t want people killing their kids to get out of parenthood or whatever. It’s probably for the best for me; I can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised by people who treat the way I act as some great burden. And I like living in the home. The kids there are nice and I like the caretakers, even if we did tend to be understaffed.”

  “So…” Vin grinned slyly. “I guess you could say that the home fostered good feelings in you?”

  “Oh lordy,” Renee sighed.

  “Living there really filled me with end orphans .” Charlie grinned back.

  “Charlie.” Renee turned to zir with a hand over her heart. “Charlie no. You were supposed to save me from this madness, not become one with it.”

  “Well,” Charlie said slowly, “maybe you should have been more sans parent about your anti-pun agenda.”

  Vin opened his beak widely.

  “I have been perfectly explicit about my anti-pun agenda, so much so that it has become synonymous with my very being. No longer Renee Etheridge, I have become Renee Funslayer, Hater of Puns. She with Fury Most Righteous for the Lowest Humor. The only conceivable way I could possibly have been any clearer was if I broke out of our solitary vigil to custom order a massive, illuminated billboard reading ‘please stop’.”

  “So you could say you really want to see them all ex pun ged?” Vin’s tail bobbed rapidly.

  “Without impunity,” Renee said, “in the most punctual manner possible.”

  “Don’t you mean punceivable?” Vin asked.

  “What? Why would I mean such a thing? Did you not hear my earlier statement? About the names, and the billboard?” Renee asked, almost sounding hurt. “I have been nothing but punctilious about my disdain for such an awful form of humor.”

  “Look, we get that you absolutely, definitely hate puns,” Vin said. “No need to puntificate about this.”

  “Not to change the subject... ” Charlie stopped. “While actually yes to change the subject because I really don’t have the punseverance to compete here, but do either of you know where we are? Like, geographic ways?”

  “Oh that’s easy,” Vin chirped. “We’re in the woods.”

  “If memory serves,” Renee said, “I would guess we’re somewhere in the Midwest. I vaguely remember this being what the forest regions looked like there. It has been a long time since I was moving around the continent, though.”

  “You use to travel a lot?” Vin asked. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I’m not sure ‘travel’ is really the word I would use,” Renee said. “It implies a certain degree of consent and knowledge that I utterly lacked at the time.”

  “Oh yeah,” Charlie said. “Didn’t you end up dragged all over the continent through preternatural trafficking or something?”

  “...Yes.” She said flatly.

  “Oh, is that not a thing I should have blurted?” Charlie stared at the ground ahead of zir. “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she sighed, “it’s alright. You’re not wrong, it’s why I was at the foster home to begin with, and the main reason no serious effort was made to return me to my original parents. I was too young to remember them at the time, and could have originated from pretty much anywhere. It’s quite likely they either ended up in trafficking rings as well or died. Either way, the ambiguity of my origin combined with my difficult attitude and the fact my gills were badly mutilated meant that there weren't exactly lines of possible extended family desperate to claim me.”

  “Hey, what’s all this?” said Vin. “I didn’t know you came from the pet ring.”

  “Well it isn’t exactly the first thing I like to tell people.” She cleared her throat. “Ah, Mx. Hypothetical, is it? That’s a nice name. I, too, have a very nice name, but first let me tell you all about my awful traumatic childhood.”

  “How come ze gets to know?” Vin whined.

  “Because young children, and for that matter overworked caretakers, have absolutely no regards to the idea of personal privacy.”

  “This is bullshit,” Vin declared. “You know all about my tragic backstory.”

  “What is your tragic backstory?” said Charlie. “Since we’re all sharing anyway.”

  “Can’t tell you that.” Vin shrugged. “If anyone were to know my Tragic Backstory it would weaken its value as a secret. As it stands right now, it isn’t known and has high emotional significance. I could get some huge favors for something like that. Don’t quote me but I heard that if you earn enough secret points there’s a guy who will give you a stuffed walrus the size of a car.”

  “You just said that Renee knows it, though.”

  “Renee already knows everything so it doesn't really matter.”

  “It fits nicely with how Vin knows nothing,” Renee said. “It’s astounding that it’s actually possible to communicate in a way that passes along absolutely no information. Scientists are baffled. I’m almost ashamed to be an accessory in the deprivation of their ability to enlighten the world with answers.”

  “Crime of the fucking year right there,” Vin said. “If you don’t turn around to turn my sorry ass in this minute I have half a mind to report you.”

  “You have a whole half a mind?” Renee said with mock surprise. “Astonishing, I was estimating it to be a much lower fraction.”

  “Hey, I never said it was my mind,” Vin said. “It could be like, half a mosquito mind. Fucker thought she could take my sweet, sweet blood juice? Hell no, now I got her brain. Or, at least I have half of it.”

  “What happened to the other half?”

  “She couldn’t pay off her college debt so some loan sharks repossessed it.”

  “Such are the inescapable ways of Nature.” Renee lowered her head with her hand over her heart. “Only she would be so cruel that no desperate plea or hasty flight could save the debt-ridden. The world will soon forget this innocent soul, but within us she will live on, for nothing save Time itself can rid us of our precious memories. The times we shared, the laughs we had, the tears we shed, these things we will carry forever more, and through them we will strive to carry her on, just as she strived to carry your sweet, sweet blood juice.”

  “I’ll treat this new duty with the utmost importance it deserves,” Charlie said, somewhat distantly. Ze felt really dizzy and hot.

  “I’m glad someone’s taking that task head on ‘cause I’m going to forget about her within the hour.” Vin said.

  “So soon would you forget? Have you no heart?” Renee said sharply. “She lost her very life trying to ease your burdens of blood-having, and you would willfully abandon her memory to Time’s piercing arrows? With such callousness resting in your soul you might as well wield that awesome and terrible bow yourself, and slay our memories of her as you so ruthlessly slayed her body.”

  Charlie stumbled forward, catching zirself before ze fell completely, and took a few shaky steps forward.

  “Are you okay?” Renee asked.

  “Well, I’m fine,” Alcor said. “But Charlie just checked out.”

  “What do you mean ‘just checked out’?” Renee asked, leaning close to Charlie’s body. “What happened?”

  “I mean ze was exerting control over the body, and now ze isn’t,” Alcor said.

  “Holy shit did Charlie just fucking die?” Vin asked. “Please tell me that Charlie didn’t just die.”

  “What? No!” exclaimed Alcor. “If Charlie was dead, why would I be wasting my time inhabiting this flesh sack?”

  “Hey man, I don’t know, maybe you’re into that?” Vin shrugged. “I’m in no position to judge; wasting time and inhabiting a flesh sack are two of my only skills.”

  “As far as I can tell ze’s as fine as can be expected for the circumstances.”

  “What did you even do?” Renee asked.

  “Excuse me?” Alcor leaned forward towards Renee. “What did I do? I don’t know, maybe catch the kid before ze fell and hurt zirself even more?”

  “People don’t just randomly faint!” she cried, pulling her tightly balled fists to her chest. “Not that this was exactly random, not that being sedated for a solid week and then going straight to walking for hours is probably good on the body, not that ze was a paragon of health in the first place. Not that we didn’t already know that ze is dying. So you’re right, I’m sorry, it doesn’t really make sense for this to be your fault. Ze is just literally dying, that’s all! And it’s happening faster than I thought it would and I sure don’t know enough about possession to fix this. I don’t know enough about anything to fix this. I don’t even know that this can be fixed.”

  “Hey. Renee.” Alcor pinched Charlie’s nose and then lay zir palms down. “Charlie isn’t dead yet. There’s a huge difference between fainting and dying. And I know plenty about my own magic. We still have time to fix this.”

  “Right. Time. We have so much time. What with being hunted and all. And needing to find food and stuff. And - ” she pressed her closed fists against her forehead. “And we’re working on those problems too. One thing at a time; Charlie isn’t dead yet.”

  She took a deep breath and spread her fingers flat on the exhale.

  “You should sit down,” she said to Alcor. “If Charlie’s body is doing badly enough that ze fainted we shouldn’t just keep walking.”

  Alcor plopped down on a large, moss-covered rock, resting Charlie’s elbows on zir bouncing knees. Stopping felt wrong, almost intolerable. The pace that they had been moving had been frustratingly slow - which was to say that they had been pacing themselves perfectly reasonably for what was potentially a day long walk through difficult terrain, but it was slower than Alcor wanted to be moving. Much slower. And now they had to stop. Probably because this body hadn’t actually slept in two days, and whose fault was that?

  “Not that I’m saying the dowsing rod won’t work,” Alcor said, “but since we’re concerned about time why don’t we have Vin fly above the tree line and see if he can spot some farms or something?”

  “Because that’s a thing I can do,” Vin said. “Very first thing they teach you in test subject school (which is for test subjects) is how to fly the fuck away and never look back.”

  “Just how long were you at the facility?” Alcor asked.

  Vin shrugged his wings and arms. “Fuck I don’t know, about how long can a bird remember shit? Like I vaguely remember there being a before but I couldn’t tell you anything about it.”

  “Wow,” Alcor said. “You guys manage to make my childhood look positively enviable.”

  “What happened to you as a kid?” Vin asked.

  “Well,” Alcor laughed, “I died, for starters, and then my parents kicked me out because they couldn’t deal with what I had become, and then puberty happened and I was pretty much constantly in pain for awhile… It wasn’t great is what I’m saying.”

  “Yeah that sounds pretty damn suck,” Vin said.

  “But you guys…” Alcor shook Charlie’s head. “Damn.”

  “So what?” Vin asked. “Suffering ain’t a contest; what you went through sounds shitty as hell. I can’t think of much I’d want less then getting offed without the sweet release of death. And to go through that and then get abandoned? Shit.”

  “I mean, it wasn’t really their fault. Of course they couldn’t deal with what I had become. I couldn’t deal with what I had become. They didn’t sign up for that.”

  “And you did?” Renee asked pointedly.

  “I didn’t have anyone intentionally hurting me is what I’m saying,” Alcor said, “and I still had a support network that understood - well - that was aware of what I was going through.”

  “All I’m saying is that, when it comes down to how shitty a thing was, the intent of the people involved doesn’t really matter,” Vin said. “You were hurt and no amount of well wishes can change that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it definitely matters if you want to try and unburn those bridges or whatever, but the thing that happened? Abandoning you when you really needed the support? Still shitty.”

  Alcor sighed. “It doesn’t matter much anyway; that was a long time ago.”

  “Right,” Vin said, drawing out the word. “You’ve long moved past having shitty things happening in your childhood. Now you can reap the sweet sweet reward of having shitty things happen to you as an adult.”

  “Hold on,” Alcor straightened Charlie’s back. “I think Charlie might be regaining consciousness.”

   Charlie was very confused.

  Everything shifted. Charlie was sitting now. Why was ze sitting? When did ze sit down?

  As Charlie attempted to push zirself up the world spun, less like a top and more like an inexpertly used gyroscope; it didn’t gracefully rotate so much as it wobbled, moving too quickly to be easy to follow but too slowly to hold itself up. The world spun like it was missing the ground more by pure chance than anything else.

  Sitting down might be a good idea.

  Charlie let zir head fall into zir knees. Ze couldn’t figure out how to sit down. There was something in the way of sitting and the knowledge of what, exactly, this might be eluded zir like financial stability from a freshly indebted college student.

  This was stupid. The fact that this was stupid was the only solid anchor that Charlie had, and ze clung to it like a life preserver. The ground wouldn’t hold still, and that was dumb. Charlie couldn’t figure out how to sit down and if that wasn’t the single most moronic possible outcome of any possible series of events to conceivably transpire then Charlie was perfectly happy with how these past few days had gone. That is to say, the idea of an infinite multiverse had been accepted as a practical fact by the scientific community for centuries, so there was a high chance that any outcome permissible by the laws of physics was, in fact, a reality that was realized somewhere in the vastness of existence. There was a reality where Charlie’s response to the stress of what was happening was to simply lie facedown on the ground, eat some dirt, and try to hand sort passing fire ants by how friendly they looked. There was a reality where it was the fashion to wear highly venomous octopuses as shawls and people used breakdancing as the primary mode of communication. There was a reality where archaic laws and largely ignored voter suppression caused someone whose main experience was going bankrupt to become one of the most powerful people on the planet and everyone just kinda let it happen. There were realities that couldn’t even begin to be sufficiently summarized using the word “stupid”. Realities so senseless and imbecilic that to try and communicate the exact extent of their stupidity would be folly. And yet, somehow, despite this inevitable outcome of probability, Charlie had found the singular moment of peak asininity; right the fuck here and now as ze couldn’t fucking figure out how to sit down.

  At least, that’s probably what Charlie would be thinking if zir brain could actually string two sentences together.

  Charlie needed to get zir head to stop reeling. Zir thoughts spun with no sign of crashing downwards. They spun like an astronaut curling into themself, nauseatingly quickly and growing in speed. Except it was more aggressive than that. It was like zir head was a tumbler that someone put a ball made of nails into.

  This was stupid.

  Charlie’s knees pressed into zir eyes. Take things one at a time. What was in the way of zir sitting?

  This rock.

  Ze couldn’t sit through the rock.

  The rock that ze was

  sitting

  on.

  This.

  This was stupid.

  Okay, now that Charlie had chalked up and solved the world’s most idiotic mystery like ze was the protagonist in a book written for toddlers by someone half a drink away from alcohol poisoning, it was time to actually figure out what was going on.

  Charlie was still in the woods, obviously.

  Renee and Vin were stopped.

  Renee was talking.

  And now she was looking at zir expectantly.

  Zir thoughts were slightly clearer now. It was less like they were churning and more like there was a thick, heavy fog in zir head.

  After a moment of focus Charlie managed to make words happen.

  “What… What?” ze somehow uttered.

  “You fainted. Are you feeling alright?”

  “Oh.” Charlie went quiet. That made sense. The thick fog clouding zir thoughts was dispersing somewhat.

  “Are you okay?” Renee prompted again.

  Charlie gave a hollow laugh. “Apparently not? I mean I feel fine - well no. No I don’t feel fine! Everything still hurts and it sucks, and I’m really confused right now, but I don’t feel any worse than I did yesterday which is apparently bad enough that I might just randomly faint and I haven’t fainted before and I’m dying and none of us have any idea how to make this better.”

  Charlie’s hands were flapping agitatedly. “So no, I’m not okay. I’m not physically okay and I’m not okay with what’s going on. I am Not Okay.”

  For what it’s worth, if we can get somewhere safe there are some things I can try to test the nature of the binding. Not having any sort of magicore makes things harder, but people did magic without them for a long time.

  But we’re not going to find a safe place to experiment with magic! They’re not going to stop hunting us and next time we encounter them they’re going to have a real plan and someone who can actually deal with you.

  Oh, they aren’t going to have someone who can deal with me. They might think they do, but if so it’s only because they vastly underestimate my power.

  Well it’s great to know that you’re going to get out of this just fine.

  Of course I’m going to get out of here just fine. That’s never been a question.

  “Things may look pretty bad right now,” Renee said, “but we don’t know that a basic banishment won’t work. I don’t want to act without getting more information, but caution may be driving us to make a mountain out of a molehill.”

  “...right,” Charlie mumbled.

  She is right about that. If this was supposed to be a temporary thing they might not have bothered complicating the banishment process. They clearly didn’t have plans for what to do if we escaped.

  So if we’re lucky I’ll *just* be a selkie with my skin in hostile hands. Sounds great.

  Right. We really need to find a way to get that back.

  …

  You got something you want to say, kiddo?

  what if

we just surrender?

  What? You want to go back to the institution that did this to you in the first place?

 i don’t *want* to but it’s kinda feeling like maybe the only way i might get out of this alive.

  And then you would be right back in there hands. You know they aren’t going to let you go, right? You’re too much of a liability.

  if you’re really so powerful, couldn’t you just make them let me go once you’re out of me?

  Banishment rituals generally have the side effect of weakening the banished entity. If they have any competence - and in the interest of caution we must ignore all evidence to the contrary and assume they are somewhat competent - they will take advantage of the ritual to weaken me as much as they can. They’re going to prioritize controlling me, because as far as they’re concerned they are dead if they don’t. They’re going to use you as a method of controlling me, and because they have your coat they have a functional killswitch that I can’t do much about.

  whatever happened to you being fine no matter what happens?

  I would be fine. They could only weaken me temporarily. I would just need a bit of time, but in that time who knows what would happen to you?

It’s entirely possible they want something from me that I can’t deliver.

It is very likely that they wouldn’t believe me if I told them that I couldn’t do what they asked of me.

And your wellbeing is the one thing they actually have as a bargaining chip.

Given time I could absolutely locate your coat and get you as far away from them as is physically possible. But if we were to go back there, I don’t think we would have that time.

  that makes sense i guess.

so

i’m just going to die, huh?

  No. We are going to figure this out.

Once we get me out of you, things are going to get better, okay?

We just need to get me out of you and I can fix this.

  right

“Hey Vin?” Renee said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any profound feelings of insight as to the nature Charlie’s predicament, would you?”

  “I got no more clue about what should happen next than a baby dropped in the middle of a courthouse.”

  “Well, if you’re not feeling anything at all I suspect that we at least have a little time; I’ve been keeping an eye on them and they don’t appear to be making an effort to mobilize at all yet. It seems we might have a bit of breathing room before they make their next move.”

  “Not that I normally have much more understanding than a baby,” Vin mused. “Like, what kinda magic makes cars stay in the air like that? I have literally no clue. What kinda magic is a differential equation anyway? I don’t know, but damn can I chew on some shiny keys and start crying.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not more helpful,” Charlie said.

  “It’s fine,” Vin said. “We can’t all be masters of crying and sticking shit in our glob holes.”

  “No, I’m serious. You guys both have all this great stuff you can do and I’m just over here dying.”

  “So?” Vin shrugged. “You’re cool to have around. You actually appreciate my awesome jokes, unlike someone I could name.”

  “But I’m such an obstacle for you guys!” Charlie cried. “You have such useful abilities and I’m what? Carrying someone in my head. And from what I can tell they’re a lot more interested in containing the two of us than they are you so I’m bringing in extra danger, and I’m slowing you down-”

  “Do you perform some kinda cost/benefit analysis with all your friends?” Vin said with a laugh. “You’re nice to have around, so I’m happy you're here. Isn’t that why people hang out in the first place?”

  “You don’t have to earn the right to exist,” Renee said. “I understand it’s hard to distance yourself from an idea so deeply ingrained in our culture, but you deserve survival and freedom.”

  “Also, you did kinda save our asses yesterday. I mean I guess the guy in your head saved our asses, but he wouldn’t be here without you, so you can probably seize the credit for that if you want. I won’t say nothing about it.”

  “But -”

  “Anyway,” Vin said sharply, “you want to talk about ‘useful abilities’? Let me tell you about the utter bullshit that is my thing. So I get these impulses and intuitions, right? But I have no idea what they’re leading towards. I was assuming they were just directly helping me get what I want at any point, but then why did I save you? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I did, but like, that wasn’t really something I wanted to do at the time. Or was even aware that I could do. So now I’m just kinda hoping that the agenda of whatever forces guide my powers keeps aligning with my own agenda because otherwise I’m fucker than fucked. Oh yeah and also I can sort of see the future but whenever I actually try and control that I apparently look too far and hit blinding city: population pain.”

  “I’ve never fully understood your grievance with your more passive abilities,” Renee said. “It seems to me that they strongly liken you to the characters in your comics, which I would think you would appreciate.”

  “What?” Vin said. “Nah. The whole point of those things is if you got powers you gotta use them to like, further society and fight crime and repeatedly destroy some place called ‘New York’. Heroes are selfless people of great virtue and greater destructive power, whereas I have all the destructive potential of a damp paper towel and am a small selfish bird who just wants to use my powers to further my own goal of hiding in the woods forever.”

  “And,” Renee pointed skyward, “who nobly saved the life of a child using a powerful bomb of his own design.”

  “What?” Vin narrowed his eyes. “No, that wasn’t what that was about. That was a happy accident, not some dramatic character moment. I blew up some shit and pulled a fire alarm; I didn’t have some soul-shattering revelation about how I have to find a likeminded group of freaks and responsibly destroy some fictional city.”

  “You just found a likeminded freak and fought back against a nefarious organization.”

  “Okay, look.” Vin crossed his arms. “I’m not a hero, and - man this really sounds like some reluctant hero bullshit, doesn’t it.”

  “Just a tad.” Renee smiled.

  “I can’t be a hero because I’m not willing to be a hero and I’m sure as fuck not willing to play out some shitty overdone trope of some guy being obviously a hero but unwilling to admit that he just stopped some masked tool and is clearly a force for good. I’ve never even seen a guy with a mask.”

  Renee looked hard at Vin. “Vin. most of the people you’ve ever interacted with have been wearing masks.”

  “Surgical masks do not count,” Vin said. “It’s gotta be some thin cloth covering the eyes and like, nothing else. It’s not a proper villain mask unless it’s completely fucking useless against anyone who has eyes and more than ten seconds of memory.”

  “It’s so rare to encounter such humility.” Renee shook her head. “It’s quite a noble trait.”

  “Nooooope,” Vin said, stretching out the ‘o’ as if he could drown out the rest of the conversation in a single syllable. “I don’t have a single humble bone in my body. I have obstinate denial; it’s an ugly and undesirable trait.”

  “Honestly it’s rather inspiring,” Renee said.

  “Your face is rather inspiring.”

  “Why, I do believe that I’ve found my muse.” Renee covered her mouth with a hand. “She has long been suffering in the lackluster inspirational drought of my dreary existence, but now she spurs something deep within me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Vin asked.

  “If ever a hero were I to know,” Renee spoke clearly.

  “What are you doing?” Vin asked, concerned.

  “My dearest friend Vin I would have to show.”

  “You do not get to write a ballad about me. I refuse.”

  “To be fair,” Charlie interjected, “she isn’t writing anything.”

  Vin narrowed his eyes. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “The greatest intuition that could be,” her voice picked up, leaving no room for interruptions.     Saving us from no end of tragedy.       With a bomb most mighty and timing rife,     He thoroughly saved this here child’s life.     And although he will say it’s just fate’s way,     From the hero’s path he never will stray."

  Vin tucked his head under a wing. ”Why are you like this,” he groaned.

  Charlie looked pointedly at the ground and said, “Wouldn’t ‘with but only a bomb and timing rife’ work better?”

  “Why, thank you Charlie!” Renee grinned. “That is an undeniable improvement.”

  “What.” Vin stared at Charlie. “Charlie, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be on my side. Has all our time together meant nothing to you? I thought we were in pun cahoots. Would you really break the sacred bonds of punhootshood for this???”

  “It seems like you’re the one considering breaking punhootshood over this,” Charlie pointed out.

  “Charlie. Charlie. Chaaaaarlie.” Vin leaned his long neck back, pointing his head skyward. “Why you gotta be all bringing logic into this. I am but a poor, simple soul, trying my hardest to do what every simple soul is trying to do: make it through this rough life with as few couplets written about me as possible. That’s it. That’s all I want. Not better poetry. Not logic telling me who was really threatening to break what bonds. Just for the number of poems about me to stay at a reasonable, nonexistent amount. Is that too much to ask for, Charlie? Is it?”

  “Yes,” Charlie said solemnly.

“Is it really?” Vin asked.

  “It is, absolutely, 100% too much to ask for.” Charlie shook zir head. “Sometimes in this crazy messed up life you get featured in poems, and you just gotta learn to own up to it with grace.”

  “It sounds like you’re not taking my plight very seriously, Charlie.” Vin narrowed his eyes. “I’m up to my crest in these choice-ass words that have been spewed upon me against my consent, gumming my feathers together like the nasty shit they are, and you’re pinning the blame on me? The problem is that I’m not owning up to it? How would you like it if someone just went out and made a poem about you?”

  “You know,” Charlie said, “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that.”

  “Oh, you’re asking for it,” Vin said. “Keep this up and I’ll show you what it’s like the hard way.”

  “Oh no.” Charlie widened zir eyes. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I could say to change your mind?”

  “Nope. This shit’s happening.” Vin cleared his throat.

“There once was a seal whose tuckus,

Made quite an extraordinary ruckus .

Wow, rhyming is hard,

I’m not a bard.

I’m just gonna say fuck this.”

  “That was incredible,” Charlie said. “I’m going to get it tattooed on my gravestone.”

  ‘What?” Vin exlamed. “No, that’s the wrong response. It’s terrible and you’re supposed to hate it. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, this is like, basic-ass poem reception. You should have learned this in fucking grade school. First day of second grade, teacher comes in and is all ‘hello everyone we’ll do introductions in a moment but first - Poems: They’re awful and you should - holy fuck what the hell is that?”

  Rotating slowly in front of Vin was a large brown animal suspended from a branch. The webbing that ensnared it was impressively thick and tightly wound.

  “I think it’s a deer…” Renee said. “We should be careful; anything large enough to catch deer is either large enough to consider us - or at the very least you two - food, or they’re a person. Or possibly both, I suppose.”

  “So…” Vin said slowly, “we should keep our eyes out for some very large spiders is what you’re saying.”

  “That is the basic takeaway here, yes.”

  “Like, a very large, hairy spider person with thick legs and big eyes?” Vin asked.

  “Actually that sounds more like a tarantula or possibly a jumping spider,” Charlie said. “Web weavers have thin legs and small eyes, and tend to have less hair.”

  “Oh. That’s a relief,” Vin said. “I was worried we were looking out for that person over there.”

  “What ‽ ” Renee squealed, turning quickly to where Vin had gestured.

  Looking at the with bemused interest was an arachnimorph. They looked to be on the upper end of middle aged, their carapace mostly covered in short white hair with a few black spots. A grimy t-shirt covering their front was the only clothing they wore.

  There was really only one aspect of their appearance that Renee parsed, however.

  They had goggles on, the kind common in species whose eyes couldn’t handle more compact computational devices.

  There was no way they weren’t connected to the Net.

  There was no way that the computer hadn’t already identified them.

  It was going to notify the facility.

  They were going to be found and this time the facility would be better prepared and they wouldn’t be able to escape and…

  Renee took a deep breath.

  One thing at a time. They weren’t here yet.

  Renee moved protectively in front of Vin and Charlie. It was a little late for an illusion - the arachnimorph’s computer would see straight through it anyway. It was a little late for anything, really. She should have been paying more attention. If she had just been fucking around a little less she might have seen this coming and been able to stop it, but no, she had to come up with a dumb poem. Clearly a reasonable use of her energy. Obviously.

  Berating herself wasn’t going to help either.

  She took another breath, and tried to release some of the tension held in her churning guts.

  Her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. Wouldn’t stop coming up with the ways everything would could go worse. But that was fine. They could go ahead and do that if they wanted. She had more important things to focus on.

  “Don’t be worrying about little old me now,” the arachnimorph said. Renee couldn’t help but envy how calm they sounded. “I don’t eat demons.”

  “Well,” Renee said, “I just might eat pesky mortals who interfere with my… business. So have you any wisdom I would advise you to flee.”

  “Before I eat you,” she continued, “please.”

  The arachnimorph didn’t appear to be buying it. In fact, they looked a bit like they may have been considering buying it when they first glanced at it from an aisle away but now were investigating it and finding that it was not only a completely different item than they originally thought but it was also gaudily designed, broken and about three times more expensive than expected. They were considering returning some items they had bought just for coming from the same store as it.

  “Wow, with those kinda mad persuasion skills we need to get you a late night infomercial show. Like, right now. We got mad…” Vin looked around. “Leaves that you could be hawking off as medicinal or something.”

  “Vin.” Renee glared at him.

  “Oh, sorry. I mean, I am Vinzel Tharp… um.  Tharpicus. Archdemon of shitty jokes and shittier poetry. Tremble before me and despair, mortal, or face my inescapable tirade of awful words.”

  “ Vin! ” Renee hissed.

  “Excuse me, it’s Tharpicus.” He shook his head. “You gotta fucking immerse yourself in the scenario. Find your demonsona. Become one with it. And then eat them I guess, if that’s what you’re into now?”

  “Now I may not be an expert on demons,” the arachnimorph said, “but I’m pretty sure they don’t normally walk around in the middle of nowhere reciting poems at each other.”

  “Well, it turns out you know even less about demons than you thought,” Renee said, almost pleadingly. “Now leave before I make it so you know a lot less about everything.”

  “You don’t need to be so worried, kid,” they said. “I’m not going to report you.”

  “You don’t need to do anything,” Renee said. “I’m sure your computer already has.”

  They laughed. “You think I haven’t disabled that crap? Do I look like I want the government spying on my every move? This thing doesn’t download or upload anything without my say-so.”

  “Isn’t that, um…” Charlie spoke quiety, looking at the ground, “illegal?”

  “Hah! Probably. But it’s a dumb law, and what’s the point of living fifty miles away from any cops if you’re going to follow every dumb law, huh?”

  “I can think of plenty of reasons a law abiding citizen might want to avoid cops,” Renee pointed out. “Especially a preternatural person.”

  “Fair enough,” they said, walking up to the deer. “Look, I gotta get this guy home. And if you kids wanna follow me and maybe get a meal in you and a roof over your head for the night, well, I won't say nothin’ to no one.”

  They maneuvered a levitating platform under the deer and cut some webbing with a large knife, causing the deer to drop. Using what looked sort of like an aerosol can, they replaced the broken webbing, jumping several times their own height into the trees to anchor the new web.

  “The names Marcus, by the way. She/her,” Marcus said. “And if you wanna leave and get as far away from me as ya can I understand. I probably wouldn’t trust me neither. But the invite’s open, if you want it.”

  And with that she started to walk away, deer carcass following behind like a large and morbid puppy.

  “I like her,” Vin declared.

  “A living space would probably be a better option than the woods to try and figure out Charlie’s… problem.” Renee said. “But… I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right, to put it mildly.”

  “Well, I’m following her,” Vin said, and started to do just that.

  “Vin!” Renee cried out. “We should talk about this first!”

  “What’s there to talk about?” Vin asked. “You’re going to say that you don’t like it, and go back and forth about how you don’t trust it but it would be nice if it was legit, and there you’re going to end up asking me how I feel about it and I feel like I’m going to follow her, so why bother with all the other stuff?”

  Renee put a hand over her face. “Weren’t you just talking about how you’re not sure if you can trust the source of your intuition?”

  “Yeah but let’s be real, we have nothing better to go off of and you were absolutely going to ask me about it anyway.” Vin continued to walk after Marcus.

  “Vin!” Renee slithered after him. “Would it kill you to actually think things through for once?”

  “You’re just mad cause I’m right.”

  “No, I’m mad because you don’t seem to be taking this seriously at all. You can’t just-” She took a deep breath. “Look, are you sure this is safe?”

  “I mean, no. But I got a good feeling about it and I want to see where this is going, so…” Vin shrugged. “It’s not like pseudo-randomly meandering through the woods is much better, if we’re gonna be real.”

  “Charlie?” she asked. “What do you think?”

  “Um. I’m not great at judging how trustworthy someone is but I think I would much rather sleep on a bed or a couch or something than the ground.”

  “Alright. I suppose that’s valid.” She sighed. “Let’s do this, I guess.”

  “See how much easier everything is when you just admit that I’m right?” Vin asked.

  “Vin,” she said. “If I admitted you were right all the time we never would have tried escaping.”

  “And then we wouldn’t have to make all these hard decisions.” Vin spread his fingers widely. “Just imagine how much easier everything would be.”

  Renee shook her head. “Let’s just catch up with Marcus.”

  Marcus was pretty easy to catch up to, as she wasn’t exactly racing through the woods.

  “Hey, you’re back,” she said. “Think you want to spend the night at my place?”

  “That does seem to be the plan…” Renee confirmed. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “I hope not, ‘cause ya just did.”

  “I meant an additional question.”

  “Who am I to stop a terrifying demon from asking me a question?”

  “It’s about that, actually.” Renee said. “How are you so sure that we’re not demons? It certainly wouldn’t be unheard of for demons to pretend to be something innocuous like some teenagers.”

  “Kid, the way I see it, if you are a demon, you want something from me or that attempt to scare me off would have been a lot better. And I’m still not an expert in demons but I’m pretty sure going against a demon's plans is a good way to end up dead, especially when you’re as far away from potential help as we are out here. But I’m pretty sure you’re not demons.”

  “Why is that?” Renee asked.

  “Cause there’s an old lot not far from here that’s awfully well trafficked for someplace long abandoned, and people don’t put that much effort into hiding something that don’t need to be hid,” Marcus said. “And I know enough about history to know that sometimes classifying entities as A or S class can just be another way of hiding things.”

  “Maybe they were doing experimentation on demons and we escaped,” Renee said.

  “I’m pretty sure if three actual demons escaped from, well, anything really, there would be a bit more fireworks than there have been. I don’t see demons as being the ‘quietly slip out during the night’ types.”

  “You’re probably right about that,” Renee admitted. “Demons aren’t really known for being subtle when angered.”

  “Um. I have a question too,” Charlie said.

  “So shoot.”

  Charlie stared at zir feet. “Why are you using fake webbing to hunt? Aren’t you a jumping spider?”

  Marcus laughed. “Well I’m a bit old to go chasing things down through the woods, ain’t I? My joints don’t work like they used to, and do you have any idea how much time active hunting takes? I have other things going on in my life.”

  “But why use webs at all?” Charlie asked.

  Marcus crossed her arms. “Who ever heard of a spider hunting with a bear trap, huh? It’s ridiculous.”

  “I mean a bear trap is somewhat analogous to how trapdoor spiders hunt…” Charlie murmured.

  “Ri-dic-u-lous.” Marcus repeated, stretching each syllable out like a bored child playing with their gum. “But enough about me. Whatcha kids doing wandering through the woods, anyway?”

  “Reciting bad poetry at each other, apparently,” Charlie said.

  “I’m not sure it would be wise to share the circumstances that brought us here,” Renee said.

  “Oh man, that isn’t what I was trying to-” Marcus shook her head. “Look, don’t tell me anything incriminating. I don’t wanna know how you got here, I don’t want to know where you came from, I don’t want to know. I was more of wondering, in the vaguest terms possible, what you were wandering through the woods towards.”

  “We don’t really-” Renee said hesitantly.

  “We don’t know a fucking thing, my guy,” Vin interrupted.

  “We do, in fact, know quite a few things,” Renee said.

  “That’s fair. We know lots of pointless bullshit. Like, just a whole fuckton of bullshit. Fertilize half the continent with all this shit we’ve got hoarded in our brainpans. We just have no clue what the hell we’re doing.”

  “We do have a plan,” Renee said. “It’s just… not very fleshed out.”

  “And what’s that then?”

  “This seeks food,” she said, holding up her dowsing rod. “The hope was that it would lead us to a farm or something and we could… make things work from there.”

  “Well, good luck with that. You’re in the middle of a pretty sizable national park,” Marcus said. “Ain’t no farms for miles. Heck, outside of a the ol’ landfill and few pockets of private land there ain’t nothing but trees for about fifty miles.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty reasonable distance to walk in a day, or two if we’re being slow. We aren’t in imminent risk of starvation; last night we found a place that had supplies.”

  “You found that old cult hideout?” Marcus said. “I should probably go restock it then, huh?”

  “You’re a cultist?” Renee said, as naturally as she could manage.

  “Heck no. Demons are already too big for their britches, last thing they need is worship,” Marcus said. “The Circle are good people though, demon aside, and if they’re willing to pay me hard cash just to keep a room in good condition, I’d be a fool to say no. And my mother didn’t raise no fool. She raised two. But I ain’t one of them.”

  “We really appreciate your efforts,” Renee said. “Last night was by far the most restful night we’ve had since, well, since stuff you don’t want to know about. And we really needed the supplies.”

  “Aw, it weren’t nothin,” Marcus said, flicking one of her wrists. “But going back to your ‘plan’: do you have any defenses against surveillance? ‘Cause most of the farms in the area that grow things that can be eaten without processing do keep cameras about.”

  “Unfortunately we don’t.” Renee’s arms dropped. “When we entered the woods we had pretty much nothing. I do know a thing or two about anti-surveillance camouflage, but I don’t have the materials to actually utilize my knowledge.”

  “Have I seriously not put any makeup in the safehouse? I don’t know how I could ever make up for that mistake.” Marcus laughed at her own shitty joke. “Seriously though, I got some at my place that you can use.”

  “Really?” Renee said. “I cannot overstate how much I appreciate your kindness. This is actually starting to feel like something that could work.”

  “Pshaw, it ain’t no thing. I’m just doing what I’d want someone to do to me if I were in a bad spot,” Marcus said. “Anyway, I’m sure you already know, but you’re going to want to be careful not to get caught by any people while wearing it; most designs that break up the face enough to make you invisible to a computer make you stick out like a sore thumb to a person.”

  “I’m not terribly worried about getting caught by a person,” Renee said. “I’m pretty skilled with illusions; I should be able to keep anyone from noticing us. Of course, such protections are dependent on my ability to actually notice someone before we’ve tripped over them, so if current historical precedent holds it will be about as useful as a torn screen door in keeping us safe.”

  “Ohh, sick burn,”  Vin said. “But, protip: you’re generally supposed to save such savagery for other people. Otherwise it’s just kinda sad.”

  “And you’re generally supposed to keep an eye out for strangers when you’re on the lam, so I think it’s safe to say that our circumstances have already proven to be just a tad outside of the generality.”

  “Eh, don’t worry about it so much,” Marcus said. “You’ve been walking for how long - don’t actually answer that I don’t wanna know - but you’ve been walking for however long it’s been and you finally let your guard down. Well, you weren’t expecting to run into no one in the woods. That’s a pretty reasonable assumption. Not many people out here to run into. If you were raiding some farm though, I’m guessing you’d be more careful. You can’t be on high alert all the time.”

  “But there are people out here,” Renee said, “even if they're aren’t many, and running into any of them could prove disastrous. It’s better to be unnecessarily cautious then get caught.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not the only one responsible for us staying all safe like,” Vin said. “I’m pretty sure I would notice if we were about to get caught.”

  “He has a point,” Marcus said. “Six eyes are better than two. And I’m not saying it would hurt to be a bit more quiet and alert, but if you’re going to let your guard down, here’s the place to do it.”

  “... Right,” Renee said, sounding about as convinced as someone who made the mistake of opening their door for some Jehovah’s Witnesses and just wanted to go back to their dinner without being rude.

  “So, where are we going, anyway?” Vin asked. “Is it… there?”

  “Yep, I live in a tree. You solved my house puzzle, congratulations,”  Marcus said. “Anyway it’ll be a while. My place is about an hour and a half away still.”

  “Wow, seriously?” Vin whined. “That’s like, an hour and a half more than I wanted to walk.”

  “Vin,” Renee said pointedly, “we were planning on walking all day.”

  “Which is about a day more than I wanted to walk,” Vin said. “I just didn’t say anything ‘cause I knew you’d be all ‘Vin who cares how sore your legs are we must adhere to the plan or we’ll like, die or some shit’. And you’d say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “We probably wouldn’t die,” Renee corrected. “They would just take us back to where we were before. And then we probably wouldn't get another chance at this, and would possibly be separated.”

  “I don’t see what any of that has to do with not dying,” Vin said. “Although, maybe you wouldn’t die? I don’t know, you’re kinda weird sometimes and it ain’t like I can see fakey fake futures or anything.”

  Renee narrowed her eyes. “Are you implying that a will to live is a ‘kinda weird’ thing to have?”

  “This world sucks, Renee,” Vin said. “It sucks. Planning on spending a hundred plus years here is insane.”

  “That’s why we strive to make the world better!” Renee said. “Life has so much to offer! There have been times and places where people made safe and caring communities; we know it can be done.”

  “Oh yeah?” Vin said. “Name one thing that life has offered you.”

  “Life gave me you,” Renee said quietly.

  “Well that really blows my response out of the water,” Charlie said. “I was just going to say ‘edible sticks’.”

  “Oh yeah,” Vin said, “edible sticks were pretty great. Even when you went and made them limp like some kinda fucking barbarian.”

  “Vin,” Renee said, “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I. Why would you put the flaccid in your stomach acid when you could munch the crunch?”

  “You flipped shit about the flaccid,” Charlie said. “You refused to be placid after inserting the flaccid in your stomach acid.”

  “In my defense,” Vin put his hands out in front of himself, “I’m pretty sure that was the powder stuff that Renee added. It’s my hunch that if I were to munch on the crunch of a salty bunch I’d not be placid at lunch.”

  “It was definitely well into the realm of dinner,” Renee said. “And adding a spice mix to uncooked noodles wouldn't work very well; it needs the moisture to stick.”

  “Why must you crush my dreams?” Vin said. “Anyway, noodles are great and all, but probably not staying-here-for-a-century great.”

  “We have the power to make this world one worth spending a lifetime in,” Renee said. “It’s true that we don’t know that we’ll win our fight, but if we don’t do anything we know things won’t get better. We have to keep fighting and not give into the temptation of apathy. They want us to lose hope, they want us to die, because then we’re letting them maintain the status quo. They’re fighting to keep us too exhausted to fight for change, and we can’t let them win.”

  “So what, we have to keep living in this hell just to spite them?” Vin asked. “‘Cause that sounds like it involves a whole lot more fucks given about what some dudes I’ll never meet feel than I can bring myself to have.”

  “No, we keep living to make sure that people like them never get power over us again, or at least not anytime soon,” Renee said. “Things have been better before; they will get better again. Spiting them is just a bonus.”

  “If there’s one thing history has taught us,” Marcus said, “it’s that empires fall. This one’ll be no different. And it’s gotten so bloated and confident in its own power that it’ll fall sooner rather than later, mark my words.”

  “But,” Vin kicked a rock across the path, “doesn’t that just mean that whatever you set up to replace it is doomed from the start? That kinda blows.”

  “Yes, at some point things will be worse again,” Renee said. “But when that time comes, they will be able to look back at what we accomplish and be more prepared to improve their own conditions. They will know that things can be better, that people have fought incredible odds and won before, and they will have hope. And that is a legacy that I would be proud to leave behind.”

“Wow, that’s way cooler than the legacy I want to leave behind,” Vin said. “I just want to make a really cool comic.”

  “Stories are important. They’re how we pass on our history, how we dream of a better future, how we share our ideals. There is nothing lame about wanting to tell lasting stories,” Renee said. “What do you want to make your comic about?”

  “Um. Hell if I know. I just said that I wanted to make a really cool comic, not that I had any sort of plans to make that happen.” Vin shrugged. “Anyways, are we there yet?”

  “Vin,” Renee said, “the time we’ve been talking has in no way exceeded five minutes. We are still easily within the original estimate of about an hour and a half.”

  “Well, I don’t wanna keep walking is all,” Vin whined.

  They kept walking.

  They kept talking. Vin kept vocally wondering if they were at Marcus’ place yet.

  The path they were on was fairly worn; a huge improvement to trying to find the most passable way through the underbrush. Much to the relief of Renee and Alcor, their speed picked up considerably. They were climbing a steady incline, not so steep that it made walking difficult but definitely enough to be noticeable.

  As they came closer to the tops of the cliffs that had walled off the land, the forest to their right began to thin. Large old trees were replaced by younger saplings, like the land had been cleared out at one point. There was still a decent amount of undergrowth, and the trees definitely had some years on them, so whatever had happened occurred long enough ago that the land had time to heal.

  The monotony of walking and woodland was broken when Renee caught sight of something above the low treeline.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at what she saw. It was the edge of a mesh disk of some sort. It looked huge.

  “That’s my telescope,” Marcus said. “It’s pretty old; I mean obviously it’s old it’s on the planet. It went out of official use ages ago. They were just going to tear it up, believe it or not! I managed to get the land before they started work on it, fortunately. And now I reckon I got the best setup of any amateur astronomer.”

  Charlie perked up. “You’re an astronomer?” ze asked.

  “Well, a hobbyist at any rate.” Marcus shrugged. “It’s not like I got a degree in it or whatever.”

  “Yeah, you just have your own radio telescope, that’s all. It’s not like you’re serious about it or anything.” Charlie stared at the distant disk. “Although, how well does it work? Most telescopes are out of Earth’s atmosphere to avoid atmospheric distortion, right?”

  “There’s certainly some electromagnetic interference, but it’s not that big of a deal to filter out. Amateur astronomers have made discoveries using tiny optical telescopes in a city before; I’m far ahead of that curve.”

  “That’s so cool!” Charlie flapped zir hands. “I’ve always dreamed of having a really nice telescope but it never even occurred to me to think about a radio telescope as a thing that you could have.”

  “You like space?” Marcus said with a smile.

  Charlie’s words ran together. “Yeah! It’s so vast and it contains so many cool things, every cool thing, technically. So many stellar objects are still so mysterious, even after a millennia of study. And the scale of it all! It's so incomprehensible. I really like things that I can’t fully comprehend, if that makes any sense.”

  “Nah, I feel you there,” Marcus said.

  “I’ve thought a lot about going on one of the colony ships,” Charlie said, “but all the ones that are leaving in the next decade are going to have such long journeys. I don’t know if I could spend the rest of my life on a spaceship. Have you thought about leaving the planet at all?”

  “I mean, yeah, I’ve thought about it, and I might go to Mars one day just as a tourist, but I’m probably too old to go colonize the stars,” Marcus said. “They don’t really need old geezers past the age of making new people.”

  “Yeah, that’s the other reason I’m not sure I could join one of the missions,” Charlie said more slowly. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to want to make new people.”

  “It certainly ain’t for everyone,” Marcus said.

  “Soooo,” Vin said, “this is it then? You live in a big dish? Shit, my guess of ‘tree’ was way off.”

  “Nah, the building below the dish is purely a technical one,” Marcus said. “I live about a mile out still, to reduce electrical interference.”

  “Wait.” Vin narrowed his eyes. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “If you think it means that our journey's end eludes us still,” Renee said, “that although the promised destination is almost in sight it is not yet here, and that the rest you so desire sits in wait upon the other side of yet more ‘goddamn walking’, you would be absolutely correct.”

  “This is bullshit,” Vin said. “I’m calling bullshit on reality.”

  “A little walking never hurt no one,” said Marcus. “It’s good for you, strengthens the carapace.”

  Walking under the dish, they were struck by the scale if it. Marcus boasted that it was 30 meters in diameter, and that was simply larger than a single object had any right to be. The technical building beneath it didn’t even make it out halfway to the edge of the disk.

  It didn’t take long for them to traverse the remaining mile to Marcus’ place. She lived in a lowset building that made up for its lack of height in its considerable width.

  Marcus led them into the nearest of several visible doors.

  “The telescope doesn't have any sort of ability for remote operation, so the people who traveled here to use it would stay here,” Marcus said, leading them down some narrow hallways. “They would do research too, so there was quite a lot of space dedicated to computers, which has been useful in my work.”

  “What is your work, if you don’t mind me asking?” Renee asked.

  “I do network administration for a couple places. Nothin’ too exciting.” Marcus said. “Ah, here we are. Pardon the mess. I really ought to keep the place neater, but my crap keeps creeping further and further out.”

  The pardon was well justified. The room looked like where old computers shuffled off to die. Old electronics and parts were strewn around the room, and thick bundles of partially exposed wires hung from the ceiling. It had nothing on the trash cave, but looked as if it had perhaps heard about the trash cave and decided that it quite admired that lifestyle.

  “I’ll let you crazy kids settle in on your own. You don’t need some old spider cramping your style.” And with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

  The area that Marcus had led them to had four rooms connected to a common area. There was a kitchenette on the far wall, and one of the rooms had been converted to a pantry.

  “I’m going to scout out food options,” Renee said.

  “Maybe olive us should try that. It sounds like a good idea.”

  “No,” Renee said. “No, we will not be repeating yesterday's pre-dinner shenanigans.”

  “Come on, it’s all ingest,” Vin said, opening his beak widely.

  Renee didn’t respond, instead looking around the room.

  “Oh gods,” she said, “there’s chocolate chips in here. Honest to goodness chocolate. I think I might cry.”

  Pshaw. There’s no way there is actual chocolate in this woman’s pantry. Synthetic cocoa powder is not the same at all.

  the same as what?

  Ground up cocoa beans, a.k.a. what chocolate was originally made of. Cocoa stopped being commercially farmable forever ago. And unlike vanilla the synthetic version isn’t chemically identical.

  chocolate was originally a bean? that sounds super gross.

  I don’t even know how to respond to that.

  “What are you planning with those?” Charlie asked. “Cookies?”

  “Honestly, I was just going to eat them straight from the bag,” Renee said. “I have never made cookies, and have absolutely no understanding of the process outside of the fact I’m pretty sure an oven is involved somewhere. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, should you know how to do it.”

  “I can follow a recipe, but it doesn't seem likely that Marcus would have randomly printed one off.” Charlie frowned. “Not being able to look things up is really inconvenient.”

  “Then it seems we are destined to consume them raw,” Renee said sagely.

  “That’s a little weird, isn’t it?” Charlie asked.

  “Charlie.” Renee leaned towards zir, her stare uncomfortably intense. “I have not had anything sweet in literal years. Eating these chips could remove any remaining sliver of possibility for me returning to something vaguely resembling society and I would not give a single fuck. I am going to have some chocolate and it is going to be wonderful and nothing can stop me.”

  A little weird? Are you honestly telling me you’ve never eaten chocolate chips straight from the bag before?

  no?

  What’s wrong with you?

  that sort of behavior wasn’t exactly encouraged back at the home.

  What’s the point of having no parents if you’re just going to do every little thing you’re told?

  i have parents, rules exist for a reason, and if i really wanted some chocolate i would just ask for a candy bar, not raid the baking cabinet.

  It’s better free-range.

  “Why. Won’t. You. Open ‽ ” Renee growled at the bag, spitting out a stray sliver of excess plastic packaging. The bag was in her hands like it had been since she picked it up, resisting her attempts at opening it, almost as if it had been carefully designed specifically to resist children attempting to tear it open in the sort of craze that can only come from spending several years confined to a small living space eating only flavorless nutrition bars, breaking out, spending a few days meandering about the woods, and then encountering the promise of sweet flavor heaven. Not only were her attempts futile, but outside of a small tear in the excess folded plastic there was no sign that anyone had even tried to open it. It was resisting her attempts in an insultingly casual manner, condescending almost, made even more insulting by the utter inability of the inanimate object to intentionally do anything, especially condescend.

  “Why don’t you just use scissors?” Charlie asked.

  “Because there aren’t any in here and I thought this would be faster.”

  “Okay, but it clearly isn’t, so -”

  “It’s not about speed anymore, Charlie. It’s about principle now. I will not be defeated by a millimeter of plastic!”

  Charlie watched as she continued to fail to pry the bag’s sides asunder.

  “Yeah…” ze said. “I’m going to go get some scissors.”

  Charlie returned fairly quickly with the kitchen shears. They had been  fairly easy to find, hanging off of a large bar magnet on the wall with the knives. The setup made Charlie more than a little nervous; ze was a bit wary of knives in general, and to have them hanging off the ground was just an accident waiting to happen in zir mind.

  Charlie wordlessly offered the scissors to Renee handle first.

  Renee glared at them for a minute before taking them.

  “Fine,” she said. “But I’ll have you know my method would have worked too.”

  “Right.”

  “Eventually.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m only doing it this way because it’s faster,” she said, “and I really really want this chocolate as soon as nagaly possible.”

  “Hey, so what’s the deal with chocolate, anyway?” Vin asked. “It gets a lot of noise for something that looks like a tiny shit.”

  “Vin.” Renee lowered the bag. “Do you ever actually think about what you say at all or do you just open your mouth and let what happens happen?”

  “It’s basically just verbal barfing,” Vin admitted. “Thinking sucks. That’s part of why I talk so much. If I noise barf hard enough, I can’t hear the brain barf and the world is a better place. Anyway. The tiny sugar shits, what’s their deal?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Taste good.”

  Renee snipped the corner of the bag off with a quick hand movement. “One cannot explain the deal of the ‘tiny sugar shits’. One can only experience it for oneself.”

She poured a small handful into her hand and popped them into her mouth.

  And froze.

  The sweetness hit her like an very large and enthusiastic puppy. It was wonderful, but so very much. It filled her senses; the melted residue on her finger tips, the smooth mound plastered against her teeth, the rich smell of it, and the taste. Oh the taste. It filled her, becoming her whole world. In that moment nothing else mattered.

  She hadn’t remembered chocolate being so overpowering before.

  She couldn’t actually remember the last time she had chocolate. She probably hadn’t appreciated it enough. She hadn’t properly appreciated most parts of not being locked in a small living space with a single other person and having all access to the rest of the world strictly controlled.

  “Um, Renee?” Charlie’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes were watering.

  She really missed sugar.

  She really missed doing nice things for herself. Being able to do nice things for herself.

  She swallowed, took a breath, and nodded to Charlie.

  “I’m sorry, I just… I’m really glad to be out of that awful place.”

  “Glad to hear that you’re not like choking and dying or whatever,” Vin said. “It would be really awkward to eat over your freshly corpsed body.”

  “You would try eating something after watching me perish directly after consuming it?”

  “You’re adding the possibility of death to something that has already gotten as much hype as chocolate?” Vin asked. “I’m sorry Renee, I do love you but there isn’t enough grief in my body to keep me away from that shit.”

  “Since death’s off the table how about you just have some chocolate?”

  “How could you even say that? Death is absolutely still on the table. Death is sprawled along the length of the table with a single leg seductively sticking out from their robe. Death’s posing for a portrait, that’s how on the table they still are.” Vin shook his head. “Anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to eat the shit outta those weird little mounds, but I’m just not sure how good they can be now that I’ve tried edible sticks and their delicious soggy cousins. I don’t see how anything can beat edible limp sticks, and I’m just worried that I’ve created an unsurpassable standard for what food should be like on the outside.”

  “How about you actually try more than one new food before having an existential crisis?” Renee said, tossing the bag to Vin.

  “I don’t need more than one food to know when I’ve hit peak,” Vin said, reaching into the bag to grab a couple chips. “I don’t need more than one food to know when my actual soul aligns with the very fabric of the Universe in a single instant of perfect -”

  “Vin, stop talking before you put those in your mouth.”

  “Me? Stop talking? Renee do you ever think before you open your mouth?” Vin popped his handful of chocolate into his mouth.

  “Renee,” he said, spraying bits of chocolate everywhere. “Holy SHIT Renee. This is… I can’t… Edible sticks have nothing on this, it like… It’s like food but, it’s good? Like, it makes my mouth happy? This is good shit, Renee. The best shit. Like, I was constipated for days and now I’m free good shit. My cloaca is a tingling void good shit. My colon is clear and my crops are fertilized is what I’m saying here, this is the best fucking shit to ever be shat.”

  “Please never open your mouth again,” Renee said. “Just, stop talking forever.”

  “Can I do nothing but eat these things forever?” Vin said. “I think I want to do nothing but eat these things forever.”

  Renee shook her head sadly. “I fear that there may be a few obstacles between you and your ascension to the position of infinite and eternal consumer of chocolate.”

  “Oh please, like anything could stand in my way.” Vin puffed out his chest. “Name one thing that could possibly get between me and this visceral need to stuff my gob with these tiny god morsels till the end of time.”

  “Me,” she said, snatching the bag away from Vin.

  “What? Okay this is bullshit, you’ve definitely had way more of this shit throughout your life than I have. You gotta let me have at least that bag to catch up; it’s only fair.”

  “Fair this may not be, but I happen to be on the order of ten times your size, so…” She shrugged. “What are you planning on doing about it?”

  “Oh, so height makes right now?” Vin asked. “Doesn’t that go against everything you stand for?”

  Renee grinned. “I can’t stand for anything; I don’t have legs. And you must understand: there is no fair consumption of chocolate under late capitalism. Whether or not I am to unfairly take the chips that you otherwise may have eaten doesn't change the fact that this chocolate was manufactured using stolen labor. Is it fair that a person can be forced to work a third of their life away to produce this chocolate? Is it fair that that same person may die because they aren’t compensated enough to afford necessary medical treatments? Is it fair that some necessary labor is devalued to the point that those who perform it might struggle to even get chocolate whereas others could obtain ludicrous amounts every second for doing practically nothing?”

  “No, but none of those situations relate to me personally so I don’t care,” Vin said. “Now are you going to eat any of that or are you just going to wave it around, taunting me with visions of all the glorious mouth heaven I could be experiencing right now if only I had mad hops?”

  “How do you know that you don’t have the jumping prowess necessary to retrieve the artifact of deliciousness?” she said. “You haven’t even attempted reacquisition.”

  “My legs are really sore and you’re sitting like, two feet higher than me.” Vin shook his head. “That bag might as well be on another planet for all I could conceivably retrieve it.”

  Renee ate a handful of chocolate. “Charlie? Would you like to partake in this indulgence as well?”

  “Please,” ze said.

  Charlie ate some chocolate. It sure was chocolate alright.

  “Hey! How come ze’s not freaking out or crying or anything?”

  Charlie shrugged. “It’s just chocolate.”

  “It’s just chocolate?” Vin exclaimed. “Just chocolate? I’m over here having a religious experience and you’re all ‘oh whatever it’s just the greatest thing ever created that’s all.’ How can you possibly say that it’s just chocolate that’s absurd it’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Haven’t you only eaten like, three things total?” Charlie asked.

  Vin crossed his arms. “I don’t see what that’s gotta do with shit.”

  “It’s better when it’s mixed with other stuff,” Charlie said.

  Vin scoffed. “How the actual fuck could diluting something as great as chocolate with things not as great as chocolate ever make something anything other than a disappointment?”

  “Candy bars are going to blow your mind,” Charlie said.

  “Like fuck they will. My mind is stable and chill as ice.”

  “So, what you are saying is that you melt down at room temperature? I certainly cannot argue with that,” Renee said.

  As fantastic as chocolate is, we should probably think about what actual food you’ll be eating.

  i could whip up some pasta again. i’m pretty good at pasta.

  You fainted earlier. We should do something with higher protein than that.

  i don’t really know how to cook anything that’s high protein, and i’m pretty sure i’m the best cook here.

  Good thing I’m here then, isn’t it? Go look around the pantry and I’ll see what I can do.

  And get some more chocolate before those two eat it all.

  Charlie retrieved a handful of chocolate and nibbled on it as ze looked through the pantry. Between the walls and shelves were interlocking rectangular jugs of water. There were a lot of canned goods. So many cans that there was no way of identifying what was in most of them. Walls of canned goods. Too many canned goods.

  Charlie had never wanted anything from a can less.

  Fortunately there were also non-canned items, albeit fewer of them. Baking supplies, dried fruit and nuts, pasta; it was pretty well stocked. There was a whole shelf of various oils for some reason. There was also a deep freeze that was mostly full of game meat, but did have some other things in it as well.

  Okay, how do you feel about something fried? Because I haven’t had fried protein in probably a century and have one heck of a craving.

  fried what?

  I was thinking tofu, because I get the feeling that you’re going to be needlessly picky about eating any of this meat.

  Eating murdered animals is gross. I’m not being ‘needlessly picky’.

  The animal’s already dead; eating its remains isn’t going to make it any deader. It’s literally the exact same thing as vat meat now. Actually, it’s a little better than vat meat because there’s pockets of fat and variation in texture.

  It’s completely different from vat meat! Vat meat wasn’t a living thing with feelings that was murdered unnecessarily. It also didn’t have a life spent in the outdoors surrounded by pathogens. Do you know how many historical illnesses happened because of how meat was raised?

  Generally, illnesses happen when meat isn’t handled and cooked properly. You’re not going to get sick eating well-fried deer. And you know that all vat meat originated from a living animal with feelings that was murdered for its precious, precious cells, right?

  yeah but that was like, centuries ago. they didn’t have any other options back then.

  And how come crickets and cricket byproducts are okay to eat? Insects have feelings.

  crickets don’t need much to be happy.

  So it’s about living conditions of the animals then? So what’s the problem with hunted meat?

  can we not cross examine my eating habits right now? i haven’t really thought most of this through enough to have words for it.

  I’m just trying to understand. If we’re going to be spending any length of time together it’s useful for me to know what you’re willing to eat.

  you could just ask, you don’t need to get into the psychology of why.

  although it’s occuring to me i never bothered asking you. is there anything i should avoid eating while you’re… while we’re together?

  Nah. I’ll eat anything.

  there’s not anything you try to avoid?

  I mean what I said pretty literally. I’ll eat food, small rocks, electronics that annoy me, not so small rocks, generally whatever.

  That said bananas make me feel gross for some reason.

  well I can avoid bananas for a little.

  Don’t bother. Sometimes it’s nice to feel gross.

  …

so fried tofu. what’s that like? I’ve never had it before.

  Tofu doesn’t have a very strong flavor, so it mostly just tastes like fried. Slightly chewy fried, since we’re using frozen stuff. Think you could recite some instructions to the others? It’s easiest with more hands.

  actually i was thinking… maybe, since you’re the one that knows what you’re doing, you could

  you know,

  tell them yourself?

  You want me to take over for this? Are you sure?

but i think it might be good to have a not terrible experience where you’re in control. it might make it not so bad if you need to take over again in the future.

  also i really don’t like telling people what to do, even if they want me to.

  Not a bad idea. It will be way easier to teach people if I don’t have to worry about going through you. You want me to start now, or wait a bit?

  let’s just get it over with.

  Alcor stretched Charlie’s arms and grabbed a few packages of tofu.

  Is this okay?

  um… yes. this is fine. i’m fine. totally fine.

  Great!

  “For food that isn’t chocolate, how does fried tofu sound to you two?” Alcor asked.

  “I was off board the moment you said ‘food that isn’t chocolate’,” Vin said. “I’m a simple bird with simple needs, and to eat nothing but chocolate for the rest of my life is all of them.”

  “That might lead to a life lacking in the longevity department,” Renee said.

  “See? It’s like, the perfect life decision. There are literally no downsides.”

  Renee sighed and shook her head. “Why are you asking us instead of Charlie?” And with a note of alarm she continued, “Ze didn’t faint again, did ze?”

  “What? No, no, ze’s fine . Charlie’s actually the one that suggested I take over. It will make it easier for me to walk you through the cooking process. And ze’s a-okay right now; I asked and everything.” Alcor touched Charlie’s pointer finger to zir thumb and put the rest of zir fingers up in an archaic gesture. “Oh yeah, that reminds me. The cooking would be easier with more people; are you willing to help out?”

  “I’m not sure it would be a good idea to let me fry anything,” Renee said. “Oil is concerningly flammable for my skill level.”

  Vin grinned. “I’m totally down to set myself on fire; sign me the fuck up.”

  “Neither one of you will be anywhere near the frying pan,” Alcor said. “I just need you to help bread the slices.”

  Charlie was, all things considered, a tad less than a-okay. Just a smidgen under the weather. The weather was barely above zir, like ze was flying a small plane through a thunderstorm. But ze wasn’t panicking . That was the important thing. Ze could tell that ze wasn’t panicking because of how much ze was thinking about not panicking. This was okay. Really. Ze just needed to breathe. Except ze couldn’t breathe. Because possession.

  On the other hand, possession meant zir heart rate and breathing were totally normal, which meant that ze couldn’t be panicked at all, not even a little, right? Charlie mentally laughed. That was definitely how things worked. Everybody go home, this fear was conquered. Conquered like a fox.

  Charlie, are you paying attention?

  i’m fine.

  So no then. I didn’t think you felt very present. You should watch this; I’ve thawed the tofu and am about to drain it. It’s a pretty important step if you ever want to prepare something like this on your own.

  oh, um, okay then. go ahead. i’m watching.

  Charlie watched as zir hands piled paper towels on a cutting board and placed a slab of tofu in the center of them, piling more on top and pressing down on the pile with a plate. The words coming out of zir mouth drifted around the room meaninglessly, but the task seemed simple enough that Charlie wasn’t concerned about zir inability to focus on words. Ze focused on zir hands, the pressure of leaning on the plate to press the water out, the peculiar smooth yet slimy feeling of the tofu, the unusual exertion of zir arm muscles from how enthusiastically Alcor did everything. It was calming, sort of. Like experiencing a cooking simulation, if simulations could force your body to move against your will. Calming like some kind of cooking / horror cross-genre simulation. It was, at the very least, more calming than focusing on zir inability to move had been. And ze knew that ze could end it with a word, which became a comforting mantra.

  Alcor explained how to to bread the tofu to the two teens. Renee took flour and breadcrumb duties to keep her hands dry while Vin was slightly concerningly enthusiastic about getting his gooey with rehydrated eggs. Alcor handled the actual frying, explaining as he went how to handle hot oil without getting splashed and how to identify when cooking was finished.

  could i try taking over frying those last couple? it seems simple enough.

  Sure.

  Charlie’s heart rate shot up the moment Alcor took a backseat, and zir breathing became rushed and shallow. Ze stretched, partially just to reassure zirself that ze could, and shook out some tension.

  Ze was in control.

  Ze was fine.

  Nothing bad had happened.

  “Charlie?” Renee asked, “Is that you?”

  “Yeah,” ze said. “I wanted to try to fry something myself. And I was getting a bit claustrophobic stuck in there.”

  “So should we be expecting more body sharing in the future?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said, carefully lowering a piece of tofu to the oil. “I don’t really like doing it but it doesn’t seem right to keep hogging the front seat. It’s really freaky not being able to control the body you’re in.”

  I appreciate the thought, but I really don’t mind that much.

  Are you sure?

  Yes. Don’t get me wrong, it’s incredibly boring, but it’s not like being in control would make wandering around the woods much less boring.

  I’m pretty used to not having physical agency. Constantly experiencing physical sensation all the time is actually a step up from normal.

  That sounds like an awful way to have to exist.

  Can’t say I’d recommend it, but you get used to it eventually.

  Well, let me know if you start to get too stir crazy. We’ll work something out.

  I will, but I don’t imagine it will come up. I’m in control all night after all.

  “Or maybe he doesn’t mind? I guess I’ll probably be fronting while awake.”

  “I’m glad that he’s fine taking back seat, since doing so seems to cause you some distress. I’m sorry if this cooking session has been hard for you.”

  “It’s fine. It was the most practical way of doing things.”

  “Just ‘cause something’s practical don’t mean it doesn’t suck.” Vin said. “Like, those food bars that they gave us. Practical, sure, but they had to be the suckiest food option imaginable.”

  Speaking of food options: those are looking like some pretty well fried pieces of tofu.

  oh geeze i wasn’t paying attention at all.

  Charlie carefully fished the last of the tofu from the oil, putting them with the others on some paper towels.

  “Alright, let’s ingest the shit outta these weird rectangles,” Vin said. “They look pretty food bar-y, but chocolate looked like pretty tiny shits and turned out to be a-fucking-mazing so I’m down to give them a try.”

  “Are we sure it’s a good idea to introduce fried food to Vin so soon?” Renee asked. “I’m worried such quantities of expanded horizons might result in an malignant case of mind blowage, which could easily result in unrelenting obnoxiousness. I fear the potential for a repeat of the ‘good shit’ speech is high.”

  “Oh, like I need an excuse to be unrelentingly obnoxious,” Vin said. “Nice try, Renee , if that even is your real name, but I’m going to eat those crunch munchers and I’m going to be obnoxious as hell, and these two facts will be correlated but not causated.”

  Charlie grabbed a piece of tofu while the other two bickered. It was good; crunchy and chewy and mostly tasting of oil.

  “Guys,” Vin said, having finally stopped bullshiting with Renee enough to try some tofu. “This is really fucking good. Like, really good. But like, it’s good different ways than chocolate? What is this bullshit??”

  “That would be what’s known as ‘flavors’,” Charlie said, loading up a plate with dark brown rice. “There’s like, six different ways that things can taste good, or at least that’s what Big Taste would have you believe.”

  Vin’s eyes were wide. “I must try all of them.”

  “I’m sure we can make progress on that quest in the upcoming days,” Renee said. “I’ll have to make an effort to find something sour.”

  They filled their bellies with the food they made and the space with their conversation. They devoured all the tofu, leaving some of the rice uneaten.

  After they finished eating, Charlie went to take a nap. Exhaustion had been seeping through zir like water into a sponge since ze fainted. Ze collapsed onto the bed as a sack of potatoes would out of the tiny useless hands of an overambitious baby. Zir limbs felt like they had weights tied to them. Zir whole body felt like a weight just slightly outside of Charlie's ability to lift. It didn’t take long at all for sleep to overcome zir.

  Alcor sat up and looked around the room.

  Swinging Charlie’s legs off the bed, he got up and purposely walked to a corner of the room. There was a tablet, probably the better part of a century old, lying screen down on the floor, thick wires connecting it to the wall. Alcor flipped it over and experimentally prodded the screen. It flickered to life after a few long seconds, displaying a temperature graph.

  Alcor flicked the thermostat app aside.

  “There’s nothing interesting on that that works offline,” Vin said. “I already checked.”

  “Oh, I highly doubt you checked for what I’m looking for,” Alcor said.

  “And just what is it that you’re looking for?” Renee enquired.

  “Gonna call a friend,” Alcor said.

  Renee whipped around to face him. “A friend ‽ Are you out of your mind? You can’t connect to the internet, they’ll find us!”

  “I didn’t say anything about the internet,” Alcor said calmly. “I doubt I could even use it on this thing; I think Marcus manually disabled its ability to connect.”

  “Unless you’re especially close with Minesweeper, I fail to see how this could possibly work.”

  “Well, it’s not my fault you don’t know enough,” Alcor said with a shrug. “There are more ways to connect to someone with a computer than by going through the internet. I was pretty skilled at computers once; this should be no problem.”

  “And more methods of communication are being monitored than just the internet!” Renee hissed. “You’re going to get Marcus into serious shit!”

  “I know you don’t trust me, but could you at least trust that I can think of obvious pitfalls? I’m not just going to send an unsecured message friendward and hope they get it. This friend of mine, they’re really good with computers. And they spread a program, that includes a direct and secure line of communication with them, across all sorts of machines. It’s a virus, really, and it spread very very well, so there’s a decent chance that it might be on this tablet.”

  “Your friend made a virus for the sole purpose of opening lines of communication?”

  “No, that’s not the point of the virus,” Alcor said, “that’s just a happy coincidence. And technically he didn’t make it, I did. He just improved it a lot.”

  “Why did you make a virus?” Renee asked.

  “People were writing things about me that I didn’t like, and I wanted to make them stop. After a while I got really into the project and it kinda ballooned out of control.”

  “You? Get obsessed with something only to have it go horribly wrong? No way.”

  “I wouldn’t say it went horribly wrong,” Alcor said, with a small smile. “Quite the opposite, really. It went wonderfully right.”

  Alcor smile widened as a small, pixelated figure appeared on the screen.

  “In fact, I’d reckon that a whole lotta things are going to start going wonderfully right.”

Alright! Chapter 3 is done, we're over half way done with the fic.

I've already written the major conflict of the next chapter. It currently looks like it will be a relatively short chapter, and hopefully it wont take me that long to finish writing it. I'm planning on focusing primarily on Haunted and Hunted over my other fic from now on, so ideally updates will come faster.

Thanks to TheItalianScribe for being my poetry consultant for this chapter.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

[bitubific-blog]

car crash

"a ghost named self hatred haunts both of you tonight, and the night is the longest it has ever been."

-changsub x reader -1.9k words -angst/sad -writer’s note at the bottom

the rain has many victims.

often you are the victim. the downpour drops daggers from the sky and you bleed melancholy. despite this, you still try to reconcile with the clouds. you stand on the balcony, where the rain falls down on you.

you aren't the only one the rain touches.

a whirlwind of car wheels and concrete turns the rhythm of rainfall away from you. before your mind gathers itself, a man staggers out of his broken vehicle.

his name is lee changsub. his name is one you heard in highschool, one you fell in love with whenever you heard his laughter. but no one could laugh now. in the rain, the static between him dragging himself off the road sounded like a cry for help.

your body moves out the door without second thought. soon, you've flung yourself down the stairs of your flat to the exit. the moment you see him, his name launches out of your throat. amidst all the heavy rain, it reaches him, and he turns around to see you.

"hey!" he shouts from the other side, wobbling to turn around. "sorry about the fence!" he laughs but it doesn't convince you. even from the other side of the street you see the crookedness of his smile.

it's only after you run towards him that he finally recognizes you. for a moment, changsub is lost in the recall - he waves his eyes over you, finding the same eyes and same frame from all those years ago. "y/n?" he says in astonishment. "from class 3-a? you live out here now?"

"we'll talk inside," you answer, already with his arm around your shoulder. in the moment, you're overtaken by the urgency to make sure he's safe. you're practically lifting him off the ground, into your apartment. the flight up wasn't easy. between the crash and your flat, the two of you slowly turned breathless. it was only natural that, by the time you made it up the stairs, both of you lunged towards the couch.

changsub winces, but still makes every effort to be cheerful. you can tell it's fake, though; the more he tries, the more it irritates you. changsub was reckless before, but never enough to hurt himself like this. now wasn't the time for these thoughts, though.

"wait here," you tell him, scanning the drawers in sight for an emergency kit. all he does is watch, following your footsteps and your hands, how they leap forward at every chance to help him. as soon as you grab what you need, you turn to him. you catch him right as his cold expression thaws. his face is more familiar now, more gentle. as he smiles at you,  his teeth threaten to peak past his lips.

"woah.. you're so cool now." he laughs. "were you always like this in high school?"

"i guess not," you say. the two of you exchange giggles on your way back to him. only now, with the silence engulfing your living room, do you get to see him up close. from what you can tell, it's nothing serious, just a few scratches and bruises here and there. there's blood on his head - probably from the impact - but otherwise he's alright.

"keep still," you urge him and he nods. changsub twitches every now and then as you press the cotton swab against his forehead. the alcohol seeps into his wound and he hisses loudly, turning his head away. apologies shoot out of you in bursts of nervousness. all he can do is laugh. “it’s alright,” he reassures you.

the room is silent but the world feels otherwise. you’re face to face with a boy you loved in highschool, the one you wanted to love but never could. you’re face to face with a boy who broke your heart without your consent, a boy who never knew your agony when you found out he loved someone else. you’re face to face with a boy who never knew the depth of your feelings, and now that boy is the torn up man before you. a man barely smiling, but still trying to regardless because you’re there.

something in you sinks and you’re not sure what.

“are you okay?” you finally ask. changsub’s answer stays caught in his throat.

“i’m alright, it was just an accident,”

“no, i mean -"

“the car’s a bit of a wreck, right? i should probably call someone.”

“that’s not what i meant - ”

“if i broke anything, i can probably cover for it-"

“listen to me, changsub.”

the smile he tried to wear has fallen off. his smile - fake or real - dissolves into the air. he is desolate. he is all the things you knew he never deserved to feel like but he won’t admit it. changsub’s head dips into his lap and he heaves out the weight in his lungs.

“what happened to you?” you finally ask, hoping the volume of your voice outmatches the rhythm of anxiety in your heartbeat. changsub is still for a moment, and he knows he can’t keep still forever.

“she cheated on me,” changsub's voice rises. “she said she loved me and i believed her. i was young, okay? i loved her back, i gave her everything. and that’s why she stayed. she never cared about me. not when i saw her with -"

you hold his hand. he exhales.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to yell.”

“no, it’s fine. i’m sorry this happened to you,” is all you can say to him.

changsub stands and carries himself to the balcony. the sun has dipped beneath the surface of the sky and his body is just a silhouette. there is static in your throat and numbness in his heart; neither of you know how to deal with it, but you follow him anyways.

“i’m such an idiot," he says bitterly.

“i know,” you reply, “i guess not much has changed since high school.”

the moon is kind enough to light up his face. you see him soften, like part of the dread he’d harbored finally let go of him.

“you’re right.”

you want to hold him. you smile with him instead.

soon enough, the nostalgia is blurred out by reality. changsub’s car is still a wreck, wedged between the countryside fence across your flat. neither of you have signal on your phone, and with the downpour heavy above you it’s unlikely anyone will drive past, let alone someone who can fix his car.

“what will you do?” you ask.

“i don’t know,” he says bluntly. “it’s late, plus it looks like no one really goes out here much. i don’t want to bother you so late at night though,” changsub pivots towards the exit. “it’s not too much of a wreck. i’ll go see if i can drive back.”

“stay.”

god knows what made you say that. all you’re sure of is that you’re more surprised than he is to hear those words. your heartbeat runs rampant, especially when changsub turns towards you slightly. somehow, your brain functions enough to speak for yourself in self defense. “it’s really dark, you shouldn’t drive. you don’t even know if the car works, and you hurt yourself so you should probably rest and…”

changsub laughs to himself quietly. “thank you,” he says. the two of you lower your heads in humility.

when the awkwardness pushes itself over, the two of you catch up on the years after high school. you tell him the country home you live in is one you share with friends, whose antique shop you help run during the week. he tells you about his family’s company, and his little sister who finally started high school this year.

he tells you about her. the one who cheated on him, the reason why the two are you are even together again. at first, his voice is turbulent - tossing back and forth between his right to suppress his feelings and your right for an explanation. “she was the one i dated in senior year,” he begins, “our parents knew each other so we were together a lot. i really liked her, you know? and i thought she did, too.” changsub sighs, leaning back onto the couch. “turns out i was just a business deal. our families needed us together to make ends meet. i never knew we were set up for an arranged marriage - she did and she never cared. she was just using me in the end.”

“that’s horrible,” you say. “at least you weren’t in the wrong.”

“i guess,” he replies, “i should’ve known earlier.”

“but that’s not your fault!”

“this is, though,” changsub sighs at the window. “the car, i mean. and the fence. sorry you had to deal with this.”

you shake your head. “you don’t need to be sorry. i’m here to help you.” the words stuck to your mouth only leave your body when you turn away from him. “i want to help you.” on your way to get the extra blankets, changsub stops you in your tracks.

“you always were there, weren't you?” you can feel yourself rooted to the floorboards by his world, deafening the rain and the static and every echo your heartbeat could make. you stand a meter apart from the couch but it feels like he’s lodged himself in your abdomen.

“y/n, did you ever love me? back then?” you fucking idiot, of course i did.

no words emerge from your mouth.

“forget it. it’s a stupid question.” you hear him toss and turn behind you. “you should go to sleep, y/n. i’ve kept you awake long enough.” his back is already facing you when you turn around. “goodnight,” is the last thing you hear before the rain floods your thoughts again. you stand silently before him for centuries, mixing cocktails of complicated feelings and self doubt in the acid of your stomach. you manage to halt your thoughts, just long enough for you to grab the blankets and gently throw them over him.

“i did,” you whisper, pulling the blanket over him as lightly as you could. “i did love you.”

changsub’s still awake as you say this, still awake as you heave yourself onto your bed. a ghost named self hatred haunts both of you tonight, and the night is the longest it has ever been.

--

in your dream, you are back in class 3-a and everything is honeydew and bliss. the friends to your left and right point to changsub, giggling at how the mention of his name curls your mouth into a smile. in your dream, he notices you and says your name, which always sounded better with his voice. the two of you are red cheeked and young and happy, unapologetically.

when you wake up, it is 11am and your chest is a hollow vessel. you shoot upright, running out of your room, confessions in your throat about to spill into the living room.

gone.

the flat is empty. the world moves in slow motion as you search for him, from living room to kitchen to bathroom. nothing. all that’s left is an empty couch and a neatly folded blanket. your eyes latches onto a note left on the coffee table. reluctantly, your hands gravitate toward the page. it reads: “i loved you, too. thank you.”

the page slips between your fingers. just like he did.

outside, the sunshine casts its beams down to spite you. the warmth is so strong you don’t feel the numbness in your chest, or the tears that ricocheted from the paper.

in a state of faithlessness you pray for rain. the rain brought the two of you together, and now you want to drown.

you want him to come back.

this is my 2nd btob fic, thank you so much for reading!! and thank u ana for the prompt!! its a bit clunky but thats bc i’m not used to writing full scenarios - but i’ll get there!! thank you again <3