#also He didn’t put you here in a vacuum to weather it alone

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

here’s what I learned in 2024, having been chronically, painfully ill most of the year:

it’s not bad to have New Year’s Resolutions. I myself have a bunch. however.

if you’re feeling like the only way out of your current situation is to scrabble and struggle desperately and Try Harder and Try Harder, that will only get you so far.

you have built-in limitations and there are powers & circumstances outside your sphere of control which will foil your plans.

but do you know Whose plans are never foiled? do you know Who is the power outside all spheres?

I have learned when I ask God to “help me get everything done that I need to get done today,” to make sure I am asking for what I really need to get done, and not what I think I need to get done.

I always get done what I needed to get done that day according to God’s will. even when that turns out to be nothing but praying that I will.

don’t burn yourself out depending on your own scrappy willpower to get somewhere or achieve something. and don’t waste energy despairing about your limitations. God has already decreed the direction in which your life will go, and how quickly it will go there. He knows what you truly need and will provide it without fail.

[janicho88]

Falling For You -Part 3

November

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female!Reader,  

Word Count-3546

Warning- Fluff. Mention of serial killers. Still burning slow. 

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a little backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. We should hit the one shot part around chapter 20, oops?  This story is AU, and un beta’d.  Thank you @waywardbeanie​ and @whatareyousearchingfordean​ for helping me keep these 2 characters in line and letting me bounce ideas off of you. 

 Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door.  Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to.

Series Masterlist

Do you ever notice how quickly time goes once October hits?  In a blink November is over and suddenly Christmas is here and then we are ringing in the new year.   You aren’t even sure you remember much of the first two weeks of November this year. You did remember you had been out helping Dean a number of nights.  Work was finally back under control , but you needed to get a list around to start on your Holiday baking for the first weekend of December, Thanksgiving was next week. It seemed like you couldn’t figure out which direction to go in. 

Dean had gone to see a few houses and asked you to go with him for another opinion.  Both of you fell in love with the sixth house.  It was a two story single family home, you would have killed for the kitchen.  So much counter space for baking or cooking.  It only needed a few touch ups here or there, maybe some new paint in some of the rooms eventually, but it was move-in ready.  The previous owners already moved out of town and took all their belongings with them.  Dean had been working with a bank to be approved for a loan before finding the house, plus he had saved what he had when his house sold.  The closing was done by Friday the end of the second week.

While Dean was busy finalizing paperwork on his house, you were at your desk on your lunch hour looking through pinterest for new cookie or bar ideas. A familiar voice sounded behind you.  

“I’m back bitches!”  Turning around you saw the fiery redhead who was in charge of IT for the company.  Charlie used to work out of this office, but they had moved her to the new clinic that had opened an hour away for the last two months.  

“Things are running smoothly over there, two weeks without any problems, I get to come back to you guys now.”  She walked over to her familiar work area and tapped the Hermione figure sitting by her monitor and asked if she missed her.  “So what have I missed here?”  You and Monica filled her in, and introduced her to Anna when she came back.  The rest of the day passing fairly quickly. 

Making a quick dinner that night you received a phone call from your mom.  Her older sister had fallen and hurt her hip.  She wasn’t going to be able to travel down for Thanksgiving, so your parents were going up there.  This way your mom could help her around the house and with the meal.  Your cousins were a bit lazy, they weren’t going to do it.  She asked if you wanted to go with them, and after thinking about it for a moment, told her not to worry about you.  Your aunt's house wasn’t very big, and some other family was going up also.  That was going to be too much close family togetherness for you.

 Wiping down your counter you heard a tap at the door, slipping on shoes and grabbing your purse you headed out.  Jess and Dean were out in the hall waiting for you, the two of you offered to help Dean clean tonight before things were moved in tomorrow.  Sam was working a big case and stuck at work this evening.  The house was in good shape, it just needed a good pre move in clean.

“So Dean,” Jess started talking when you got in the car.  “Since you are going to have the most room, how about you host Thanksgiving next week?”

“What?”  He was a bit caught off guard by that.

“Your parents are coming up, so are mine, that’s seven of us in our apartment trying to cook a big dinner, you have a huge new kitchen and a dining room.”

“One, do you really trust me to make Thanksgiving dinner?”

“I didn’t say you had to make it all, we’ll help, you just have the space to have it at.”

Sitting at a red light Dean closed his eyes and let out a sigh, “If we can have the house usable by Tuesday, fine.”

“Good, Sam also told your parents they were staying at your house.”  Rolling his eyes Dean knew it was pointless to respond.  Jess turned in her seat to see you in the back, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Y/N?”

“Usually we go to my grandparents, but my mom called tonight and my aunt got hurt so they are all going up to her house.  I’m just going to hang out at home, watch the parade, and be lazy.”

“Apparently I’m hosting Thanksgiving, come join us.”  Dean offered, glancing at you in the back.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be, Sam already did that when he has people staying at my house that I’m not even living in yet, without telling me.”

“Okay, if you are sure, thanks.  Just let me know what I can bring.”

“Pie, lots of pie,”

Dean had already taken cleaning supplies over to the house and the three of you decided to divide and conquer.  You took the kitchen and dining room, Jess and Dean split up the two upstairs bathrooms and the master bedroom and one of the guest rooms. Whoever finishes first would start in the living room.  These rooms would be used for his parents' visit and Thanksgiving, the other rooms would be tackled if there was time.  Walls, windows, doors all scrubbed down, floors vacuumed and mopped, kitchen cupboards all wiped out.  It took you guys a few hours and everyone was beat when you headed back to the apartment building.  Sam and Dean were renting a uhaul in the morning to get Dean’s stuff from storage, you made plans to ride over with Jess to help unpack. 

Back in your apartment you looked to see what you could whip up to take with you for breakfast.  Normal cinnamon rolls would take too long, and you didn’t have the energy, but cinnamon biscuits were doable.  You made a double batch, and prepped the icing.  Figuring you would warm them in the morning and top them then.  

Dressed in a comfy old t-shirt and worn jeans sweatshirt sitting with the biscuits,  you were ready when Jess came to get you.  “Oh my, what is that smell?”

“I figured we would be working up an appetite today, so I brought breakfast rolls. Do you want one for the road?”

“Uh, yes please.”  Both of you laughing, she grabbed one out of the container while waiting for the elevator.

“Yep, Dean’s right.  Girl you can bake.”

The guys pulled up with the uhaul just as you were getting out of the car.  “Ready to start,” she asked.

“Not really, you?”

“I wish I was back in bed.”

“What are you two laughing at?” Sam inquired leaning down to give Jess a quick kiss.

“Just wishful dreams,” she told him.

Dean unlocked the house while Sam opened the truck.  They let you and Jess take some boxes, while they moved some of the furniture that came on this load.  Thankfully Dean had somewhat labeled the boxes as he packed so you knew where to drop what.  His labels gave you an idea on what was important to the man: kitchen crap, bathroom junk, living room stuff, bed things, other room bed things, you just didn’t know what was in each of those boxes, but clearly knew what was in the VINYLS, TOOLS, and MOVIES boxes.

Dean had kept most of the furniture from his old place, but did have a few new things coming.  Such as a master bedroom set, and new couch and dining room table. Those were going to be delivered Tuesday.  Jess told you he didn’t want things that reminded him of Lisa, so he sold anything that did when he moved.  

Cas came over to help in the early afternoon, bring some pizzas as an apology for missing the morning work.  The biscuits you made long gone.  Things were coming along nicely, Dean wasn’t super picky on where things went right now.  Dean gave you the job on organizing the kitchen, he said you would know best.  His only request being the coffee items were close to each other and easy to get too.  He would figure out where you put anything else later.  Placing his old coffee maker next to the plug between the sink and refrigerator, the glasses and mugs in the cabinet next to the sink and and coffee and filters above the machine. 

Jess was helping Sam set up the guest bedroom and washing the sheets for that room and Dean’s once his bed arrives.  Cas and Dean ran the wires for his tv and speakers for his record player.  Dean deemed those two things most important.  Everything was out of storage and into the house Saturday evening, put away was another story.  You offered to help on Sunday, but Dean said he wasn’t going to work on it then, taking one day of the weekend not to work and unwind a little.  He still had a few things at Sam and Jess’ place to get packed up at some point.

Thanksgiving week was always a nice work week since you were only open 3 days.  Monday and Tuesday evening you had helped at Dean’s and it was ready for Thanksgiving, his parents were arriving sometime Wednesday. 

When you left his place Tuesday night you headed home alone.  Dean was all moved in, he was out of the apartment across the hall.  It made you kinda sad to think about.  It’s going to be weird not running into him in the hall, or have him randomly come over when he was giving his brother some space.  

You opted for staying home Wednesday night instead of hitting the bar with Charlie and her friends, and decided to get the pies made.  You went with two traditional pumpkin, and one apple since Dean liked the last one so much.  When you were at the store you also picked up the ingredients to make a strawberry pretzel jello.   

Thursday morning you watched the parade in comfy pj’s on your couch with a glass of hot chocolate.  Unlike Dean coffee wasn’t your thing.  But with the chilly weather you liked something hot in the mornings. When it was warmer you would enjoy your weekend morning drinks on your balcony.

Dinner was supposed to be at two, but you headed over before noon to help with the preparations.  You put on leggings and a long sweater, Jess had told you it was more about comfort than fashion today. 

It was your turn to knock on Dean’s door for once, a pretty blonde woman answering the door.  She had a big smile on her face that turned to surprise when she saw you.

“Hello, can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.  Dean and Jess invited me, I came over early to help with dinner.”

“Hey Y/N!”  Dean came up behind her with a big smile on his face.  “Come on in.”

“Hi Dean, I came to help, brought pies, pumpkin, apple, and a jello”  

“You don’t have to help,” he said while ushering you inside, “you did that enough with moving this week.  Y/N this is my mom Mary, mom this is Y/N.  She actually lives in the apartment across from Sam.”

“Nice to meet you dear.  I’m sorry, I was expecting Sam at the door, I didn’t know anyone else was coming.”

Getting to the kitchen Dean opened up the pies and you saw him hide one of them in the cupboard.  Shaking your head, you look around at the food out on the counters.  

“What kind of jello is this?”  Dean asked looking at the cake pan you set down.

“It’s a pretzel strawberry jello or some people call it a salad.  I didn’t think you would be too fond of that term though.”

Dean looked at you before looking back down, “Pretzel jello?  I see the jello and strawberries, and something solid under that but it doesn’t look like pretzels.  Where’s the salad part? What are you trying to feed me sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head “There isn’t actual lettuce in it Dean, this time salad is referring to a side.  The solid layer is cream cheese cool whip mix, the Pretzel is the baked crust.  It’s a combination of salty and sweet.  Just try a bite, I’m not trying to sneak anything past you.  I promise it won't hurt you as much as Sam's veggie bacon.” 

Dean's face grew serious, “I thought we agreed that we don't speak of that fraud, it's not bacon. I need actual meat.”

Laughing you pat his back, “I know, I'm sorry. Now you have your own kitchen to cook real bacon.”

“Yeah or I could come to yours and let you do the work.”  He said with a smile your way

“You are always welcome at my place.”

“Now that we are done discussing the jello, what do you need me to do?”

“Y/N, seriously you don’t have to help.”

“I want to, I like cooking almost as much as baking.”

Dean moved over to the list of food Jess had made up the other day, “Turkey is stuffed and in the oven, potatoes are boiling,  the corncake hasn’t been started yet, neither has the salad, rolls are just waiting to bake.”

“Well Sam wanted the salad so he can do that, I’ll get the corncake going and in the oven.”

Sam, Jess, and her parents arrived a short time later.  The guys all ended up in the living room watching football and left you four ladies in the kitchen.  Mary started to ask Dean where his mixer was, but he told her to talk to you since you organized the kitchen.  While working on last minute touches Mary turned and looked at you.

“How long have you and Dean been dating?”

Jess started laughing while you stuttered out an answer, “Oh, uh no we, we aren’t, we’re just friends.”

“They are both in denial about having any feelings for each other.”

“Jess!  There are no feelings to be in denial about, we’re just friends, that’s it.”

“I’ll let you know when they catch up with what the rest of us know, Mary.” You turned back to setting the table shaking your head at her.

Dinner was great, and the conversation was even better.  Dean’s dad was a little intimidating at first, but grew on you as the meal progressed.  Dean sat next to you and before he took a bite of his jello he picked up the bowl and looked it over and made you promise him he wouldn’t regret it.  He took his time chewing, bobbing his head around while you awaited the final verdict.

“It’s actually pretty good.” You just gave him a little nod, holding back your laugh at his behavior before going back to your own food.  

The guys migrated back to the television after a while, and the four of you cleaned up.  Dean came in a few times, but you sent him back out.  When the first game ended the men came back for dessert.   Jess brought out pumpkin bread and apple crisp her and her mom made and Dean carried the pies over.

“Y/N made pumpkin pie,”  Dean told the others.

Leaning over to whisper in his ear, “You keeping the apple for yourself?”

Giving you a little grin he nodded,  “You know it sweetheart.”  Laughing you didn’t notice Mary watching your exchange across the table. 

 Looking through the ads with Jess you made plans to go out with her and her mom the next morning.  Mary was watching the two of you, and you asked if she wanted to join. Jess quickly looked up and told Mary how much fun it would be if the four of you went together.

Sam tried to talk everyone into playing a new game he picked up. When he finally got everyone, even Dean to agree to join he went out to the car to retrieve it.  Coming back in empty handed swearing he put it in the car, but unable to find it.  He went looking through some of Dean’s things for the deck of cards he swore he didn’t have striking out again.  Dean told him if he wanted to play games he needed to host Thanksgiving and went back to watching the football game.  Jess was sitting beside you unusually quiet the whole time.

“Did you know he forgot the game?” You whispered to her.

“He didn’t forget it, who do you think took it out of the car?”  Quickly covering your laugh with a cough she continued. “It was a trivia game about serial killers that used a courtroom type setup.  The box said something about cross examining, objecting and redirecting.  It seriously wasn’t happening, I get enough lawyer talk at home.”   

At five am the next morning you decided Jess had too much energy.  She had you leaving the apartment building by 3:30, then picked up Mary before hitting the mall.  You drove the 40 minutes to Ann Arbor because Jess wanted to go to the bigger mall.  Luckily the temperature was in the high 30’s this morning and you didn’t have to wait outside long.  There are years you have stood outside in the snow waiting to get in a store.

You had a few things on your list, but no clue for some people.  You weren't great at coming up with gifts, especially at this hour. You walked past one store front before stopping abruptly, and Jess walked into your back.

“Sorry, I wasn't thinking.  I’m going to run in here real quick, I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.”  The display in the window made you think of Dean and you went into get him a house warming present.

Stopping in the food court for a break later, Mary had a question for you, “Call me crazy, but didn’t you say something about apple pie yesterday when you arrived?”

You started laughing, “ I did, Dean apparently hid it when he took it to the kitchen.  He had some last time I made one and decided he didn’t want to share this one.”

Mary was talking to you more about Dean.  “He seems so much happier now than when he left.  He was in a dark place for a while, that girl hurt him bad.  I ran into her in town, and she had the nerve to talk to me like everything was fine.  I gave her a piece of my mind and John had to pull me away.”  She paused for a minute before continuing, “Dean has mentioned hanging out with a new friend a number of times I’ve talked to him.  I think that person has made a big difference in his happiness, and I hope they stick around for a long time.” 

You weren’t really sure what to say, you gave her a little smile, and told her Dean was an amazing guy who didn’t deserve to be treated like he had been. 

After running errands on Saturday you stopped over at Dean’s.  He was surprised to see you at the door and invited you into the living room where he was talking with his parents.

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to drop something off.”

“You’re fine sweetie, you aren’t interrupting anything.  We were just chit chatting, but we should actually start to get some of our things around.  We fly out tomorrow morning.  John, we should go pick up the room, and pack what we don’t need tonight.”

“I did that earlier.’

“Well you should double check it, just in case.  You two talk, we’ll be back later.”  Pushing John out of the room they headed upstairs.

“I didn’t mean to chase them away, I just wanted to drop off your house warming gift.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to get me anything.  Your help was a huge present,”  Dean told you, taking the wrapped box out of your hands.

“I wanted to, just open it.”

“Oh Sweetheart, she is a beauty.”  You had gotten him a new Keurig coffee maker, this one could make a whole pot, or a single pod.  He mentioned he had been fighting with his old one, and you knew how important coffee was to him, especially in the morning.  

“This way, you can make yourself a single cup if you just can’t wait for the whole pot to finish, or if you want one later.”

“This is great, thanks Y/N.  You did well, especially for a non-coffee drinker,”  he finished with a teasing grin. 

“I should get going, let you enjoy your last night with your parents.”

“You don’t have to, Sam and Jess should be over soon, her parents left today.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to interfere with family time.  Tell your parents it was nice meeting them, I hope they have a safe trip back.  I’ll see you around Dean.”

Part 4 

Thank you for reading!

Tags  @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth @anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83 @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002

Falling For You tags- @halesandy @abuavnee​ @hearteyes-j2 @vicmc624 @440mxs-wife @wonder-cole  @maralisa124

[moskaisley]

migraine pt. 4 | tension

gif cred: @thestarwarsdaily​

rating: mature

word count: 5.7k HOO BOY

warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST EVERYONE IS ANGY, cursing, descriptions of vomiting and a panic attack, mentions of death, mentions of trafficking 

a/n: I KNO THIS TOOK A LONG TIME .. AND I'VE BEEN STARING AT IT FOR HOURS. THANK U ALL FOR BEING SO SO SO PATIENT AND THANK U TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO LEFT LOVELY COMMENTS ON BOTH TUMBLR N AO3 <3

I really really appreciate you guys. As someone who doesn't consider herself a writer by any means, it's nice to know that people enjoy the stories I tell. I had a LOT of trouble with this, but the rest of the story is planned out so I'm hoping there won't be as long a break in between chapters again! we've got about 3 parts left :)) 

summary:

"Maybe you don’t hate him as much as he thinks.

Maybe you miss him as much as he misses you. Maybe you also long for him in the late hours of the night, replaying moments of your lives together over and over and over in your head. Maybe you didn’t regret taking this job. Maybe, just maybe, you will forgive this broken man and let him in your heart’s home once again."

Wherein wounds are reopened, split, and burned alive.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

Detective Ira Volskaya was a shady guy. Incidentally, he was also your client. 

He couldn’t have been much older than you were, but years of police work and crime stopping have weathered him into a brooding, suspicious man with greying hairs and droopy, tired eyes. You and Mando ended up far away from the city center of Coruscant, Volskaya insisting that collection took place in an abandoned warehouse. Judging by how secretive this all was and how strict the detective was on his instructions, you figured that this little exchange wasn’t “in line” with Security Force policy. 

As Mando spoke with Volskaya, you helped unload Khan’s slab onto the docking station for his men to take away. Once they had it down the ramp, you walked over to them, catching his attention.

Taking a puff of his cigarra, he narrows his eyes and nods at you, “She wasn’t with you last time.”

“She’s just–” 

Mando’s head darted between the two of you, hesitating. 

“A coworker,” you cut in sharply. 

The detective pursed his lips in suspicion, but left it alone. Instead, he turned to the briefcase at his feet, handing it over to Mando. As he double checked the amount in the case, your eyes caught Ira’s men loading the carbonite slab onto a speeder. Your mind drifts back to something Mando said on the Slipstream.

“he’s wanted for running multiple sex trafficking rings throughout the galaxy…”

You look back at the detective, “What’s going to happen to the rest of Khan’s operation?”

“We’re hoping that his capture will cause a fracture in his little empire. Break up the chain of command and let it die out.”

Volskaya takes another drag and sighs, smoke curling off his lips, “But with the new intel that’s come in, there’s a chance it’ll create a power vacuum. A lot of people wanted him dead. Someone new could easily take his place.”

Your stomach twists as you remember Aayn’vida trembling on the bathroom floor. There are probably still thousands of girls like her, just as scared and helpless. It makes your mouth go sour. 

As if sensing your discomfort, Mando shuts the case abruptly.

“It’s all here. Let’s go.”

You kept repeating to yourself that nothing would satisfy you more than to get off this planet and move on from anything that had to do with Khan Horne. But there was a scathing pull at the back of your mind that tugged with each step closer to the Crest. Your gaze darted between the case in Mando’s hand, the slab on the speeder, and Ira Volskaya’s retreating figure. Furrowing your brows, you rub your fingers on your temple; collecting never felt this complicated. What’s gotten into you? You got your money and the job is done, so why was your brain screaming at you to stop Mando from closing the ramp?

Someone new… a power vacuum. 

“Wait.”

Mando’s gaze turned to you, fingers hovering over his vambrace.

Fumbling over your words, you say something along the lines of stay put and that you’ll be back in a second. Turning back to the warehouse, you jog away from the ship and call,

“Detective!”

He spins on his heel back to you, face twisting in confusion.

Squaring your shoulders and huffing your breath, you say, “Give me a list of everyone who was involved in Khan’s organization.”

He eyes you quizzically, “I thought bounty hunters didn’t ask questions.”

“I’m not asking as a bounty hunter.”

“Then what are you asking as?”

“Someone who can get to them faster than the Security Force can,” You swallow hard, courage pulsing through you, “Someone who can help.”

The detective raises his eyebrows at you, impressed. And then he smiles, throwing his cigarra to the ground and stomping out the ashes beneath his foot. 

--

Din Djarin was not good enough for you. He didn’t deserve you. This much he knew.

So he let you go.

He really thought he did the right thing. It escalated too quickly after the cockpit and he found himself falling hard. What started as relief for sexual tension turned into softer touches, shining smiles, flirtatious jokes that drove him over the edge.  

And then,

“Do you ever think there’s more to this?”

He digs his nose into the crook of your neck, arm slung over your bare waist. Half-asleep, dizzy from your warmth, he relishes in the feeling of your body next to his. 

“More to what?”

You let out a gentle sigh, “This life. Hunting. Living out of a tiny, broken ship hopping from planet to planet.”

“Hey, the Crest isn’t that bad.”

You slap him lightly against his chest, “You know what I mean.” 

“What did you have in mind?”

A cottage. The ocean. Family.

All in the afterglow of a kiss that tasted like peaches. 

Din had a feeling you’ve always wanted more, but this was truly the first time you spoke honestly and truly in length about it. Bounty hunting was rarely ever a sought after profession, and though you were good at your job, he knew it wasn’t something you ever planned on continuing. Twisting a peach pit in your fingers, you admit to him that your life would’ve been completely different without it. You would’ve taken over your father’s orchards and lived in your beautiful family villa, selling fresh fruit to nobles and townspeople alike. Your voice grows wistful as you recount sweet summer days spent chasing your older brother through the fields or weaving baskets with your mother. 

“I wore sundresses, Din.” 

He smiles against the soft skin of your neck and squeezes your thigh gently, “Sounds pretty. You should wear them again.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Very much so, yes.”

You let out a giggle, shoving him gently. He only held you tighter. A beat of silence passed between you before Din’s hand moved to interlace with yours, face suddenly contorting with unease. 

“What happened?”

“What always happens.” Your shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and you grip his fingers tighter. “I was seventeen when Imps occupied our valley. They wanted to clear the farm for military barracks; when my father refused, they burned everything to the ground in the middle of the night. My brother and I escaped with a few other refugees.”

“And your parents?”

“Firing squad.”

“What about our brother?”

He feels your nails dig further into the crevice of his hand.

“He was stupid enough to join the Resistance. I don’t know where he is, but I’ve assumed the worst already.”

His heart twists in remorse at the hurt in your voice. Removing his hands away from yours, he pulls you in closer, stroking your hair with his calloused fingers and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. In all your years of partnership, Din had never known the full extent of your past, only that you started young doing hits for spice cartels and eventually ending up in the Guild. Before, when he tried to ask why you started so early, your answer was always brief and bitter.

“There was only so much a girl could do to make money, Mando.” 

The conversation never went further than that. But now, in light of your vulnerability and candor, your questions about the future suddenly made sense. It was never supposed to be this way; your life since adolescence had been solely dictated by fear and the need to survive. When you spoke about it, you sounded exhausted. With the decline of the Empire, how could he blame you for wanting to be more than a war-torn orphan turned ruthless hunter?

The more he thought about it the more it tore him apart. 

Because suddenly he was 11 years old again, watching the carnage of his hometown disappear over the shoulder of a Death Watch soldier. Jarring visions of blood and empty eyes melted in between with hazy memories of happy trips to the market and bedtime stories. It felt like whiplash. The echoes of blaster fire and falling debris were loud enough for him to wake up shaking in a cold sweat. The pounding of his heart sounded a lot like cannon fodder and it was loud enough to give him the headaches you suffered from so often. He was ashamed to say that the only time he really remembered his mother’s face was when she was dead on the ground. But to his horror, in his nightmares, he began to see you instead of her, body lifeless and eyes devoid of any life. Everything he’d been ignoring since his youth, crushed and hidden after swearing the Creed and following the Way of the Mandalore, was suddenly washing over him like ocean waves in a storm. Because, unlike you, this life was so devastatingly simple and comfortable for him. It was almost sacred; he was bound by a near holy doctrine and devoid of emotional attachments. That is, until you came and found home under his skin. He was grieving for you before he even lost you. It was unbearable, filling his lungs and suffocating him until he was gasping for air–

“Are you okay?”  Your drowsy voice whispered beneath him. 

He swallowed hard and pulled you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Go back to sleep, sweet girl.”

Any semblance of a normal life was lost on him. Din knew he couldn’t give you peace he didn’t have. He wanted to, though.

He wished he could gift you every star that shone in the sky. 

Fuck 80%. He’d give you galaxies.

And yet, he still pulled a blaster on you and left you alone – too caught up in not facing his own demons. Din didn’t realize how much of a mistake it was to let you go until he was half-dead, bleeding all over your old bunk. A job went terribly wrong that day.  He was ambushed on some godforsaken jungle planet and running on two hours of sleep, dreams plagued with visions of you crying at the foot of the Slipstream. He was so used to having someone cover his blindspots that he made a colossal mistake that nearly cost him his life. No one had his back that day, and was there no one to stitch him up and call him an idiot. 

Existing without you was rougher than he thought it’d be since you’d seeped into every corner of his little life. He couldn’t pass a fruit stand without glancing over for your favorite peaches. When he’d wrangle with tougher bounties, he cursed at how much easier this shit would be if you were there. In the Razor Crest, you’d organized the kitchenette a certain way that Din couldn’t find a pot without tearing it apart, and then he’d wrack his brain to figure out how you organized it so neatly in the first place. He felt a chill when he passed your empty bunk. One day, he found a bottle of your headache medicine in the refresher cabinet. Din kept it. Just in case.

You were everywhere and yet, you weren’t. 

You ran together for so long that others noticed your disappearance. Even Xi’an. 

“Where’s your little puppy, Mando? She lost?”

He said nothing. 

The Twi’lek moved closer, running a hand up his chestplate, “Or did you leave her behind, too?”

“Don’t,” he seethed. The victory in her eyes was disgusting.

Mayfeld’s teasing voice cut in, “Competition, Xi’an?”

“Hardly,” She gave him a vile smirk, “Did she whine like a bitch when it finally happened?” Din was quick to seize her hand away from his body, twisting her forearm near the point of breaking. 

“I said. Don’t.”

She only laughed. He wished you were there to wipe that smirk off her face.

It was then that he decided to come and find you. As it turns out, bounty hunters don’t make great parents. The child had just barely survived again, and Din was getting desperate. He’d already lost track of how many times the baby was put in danger, and though he’d been able to keep him alive all these months, Din was definitely not a parent. 

After picking up the most lucrative, non-Guild job he could get, he flew straight to the one person he could truly trust in the universe.

When he saw you tensely poised at the cantina, ten paces felt like ten parsecs.

The first thing he noticed were the strands of grey peeking through your hair and the dark circles beneath your eyes. You were by no means an old woman, but you weren’t getting any younger either. In the state that he left you in, three years had aged you and your fiery spirit. Your once lively, spitfire demeanor was now cold and tired. 

In the beginning of this little reunion, Din was half convinced that he’d made a terrible mistake trying to make amends. He was desperate to be in your good graces. He needed to apologize. beg you. Grovel at your feet. Atone. Do penance. But you’d seem to shut down every time he tried, denying his pitiful apologies and forgoing any pleasantries. The Mandalorian was lost around you.

And then you got shot. 

At that point, Din was positive you were marching straight out of his ship and jetting away in the Slipstream the second this was all over – not before kicking his ass, of course. All the guilt that had consumed him over the years nearly drew him to insanity as he took your limp body from Aayn’vida’s arms, cursing in Mando’a and imploring you to stay awake. Wiping the tears from your eyes and tending to your wound, his thoughts were hysterical. How could he do this to you? Put you through all this trouble only to get shot? And for what? A chance to –

“Din?”

The name fell so softly from your lips. 

“Din, my head– it hurts so much.”

His mouth goes dry. He lets out a shaky breath, overwhelmed and eyes bleary.

“Sssh, lay down. You’ll be okay, cyar’ika.”

The Mandalorian only ever dreamed about you saying his name again. Upon your reunion, he noticed immediately how unnatural “Mando” sounded in your mouth, even if he’s heard it thousands of times. It stung when you refused to call him anything else. So hearing it whispered in the walls of the Razor Crest again made his heart beat violently in his chest and gave him the smallest sliver of hope.

Maybe you don’t hate him as much as he thinks.

Maybe you miss him as much as he misses you. Maybe you also long for him in the late hours of the night, replaying moments of your lives together over and over and over in your head. Maybe you didn’t regret taking this job. Maybe, just maybe, you will forgive this broken man and let him in your heart’s home once again.

--

“I saw Xi’an again.”

Initiating small talk felt physically painful, but he tried anyway.  After Jaemai, you seemed to be a little more comfortable speaking freely with him. If you were still angry, you kept it hidden well. Besides, it was hard to be upset with a cute baby on board.

“Really?” You responded with casual interest, attention mostly focused on the child in front of you while Din piloted the ship. 

“Yup,” he said, “She… uh...betrayed me and tried to kill the kid.”

“Sounds like her. Where is she now?”

“Prison.”

He doesn’t miss the cheeky grin that spreads across your lips. You softly chuckle and take the baby in your arms, cooing to him, “Good riddance, huh? That scary blue lady is gone for good, yeah?”

The kid gurgles in delight when he’s lifted up. Mando watches you lovingly play with the child, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  He doesn’t remember you being so good with kids, but then again, that was a rare opportunity in itself. The thought of you with kids of your own makes his cheeks flush with warmth.

“Where did you even find him?” You ask, bouncing him up and down in his crib.

“Arvala 7. He was the asset.”

You look at him now, puzzled, “The asset? He’s a child!”

“He’s wanted by Imps.”

“Huh.” You hold the child closer to you now, rocking him in your arms. “And you saved him.”

He hummed in confirmation. A beat of silence passes by. 

Mando notes the way the kid stares at you with warm, loving eyes, “He likes you.”

“Yeah?” You look back to the green baby raising him high in the air. His excited laughter is sweet in your ears and you giggle with him.

“Mando’s probably a mess when it comes to you. Probably forgets to feed you, doesn’t he?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s heart flutters all the same. 

Lowering the child back into his pod, the child fusses as you try to get him to settle down. You took the silver ball that was laying in his blanket and placed it in his hands to divert his attention. Din faces back towards the console while you sink into the co-pilot’s seat. Your old seat.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you pulling a data pad from your pack on the floor and plugging in a storage drive. You scroll through droves of information silently while Din keeps his gaze trained on the passing lights of hyperspace. But his curiosity only grew, and he was tired of straining his eyes to slyly look at whatever you were reading. 

“What are you looking at?”

Your eyes don’t meet his, instead continuing to scan over the information before you.  “It’s all the people who kept Khan’s ring running.”

“You got this from the detective?”

You nod. 

“Why?”

A long sigh escapes you as you power down the datapad and slip it away.

“I guess you can say I’m retiring.” 

Din’s body is quick to turn to you, “What do you mean?”

“You heard Volskaya, someone is just gonna take his place. There are still plenty of people like Aayn’vida. People who need help.”

Beneath his helm, his face twists in reluctance. He asks, “And you’re gonna do it alone?”

You furrow your brows at him, as if the answer was obvious. “Looks like it.”

Din straightens up in his seat, stomach turning uneasily. The air in the cockpit was suddenly suffocating, and he sensed your growing ire as you pressed your lips together.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Your judgy thing!” 

You point an accusing finger at his form, “The one you do with your face and your shoulders.”

“You can’t even see my face.”

“Mando.”

“Alright! It’s just–” he grits, struggling to find the words, “It seems...dangerous.”

“You say that like it makes a difference,” your voice cuts in, sharp like a blade, “do you not think I’m capable on my own?”

“What? No, I–” 

Kriff, why is it so hard to talk to you? Din lets out a huff, scolding himself to get it together.

“Listen, we both know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. But this? This is big shit. Not some bail-skipper or petty thief. You go after them and they’ll be on you for the rest of your life.”

“What life, Mando?” you snapped, “When I was her age, I could’ve easily been one of those girls. Bounty hunting wasn’t a life, it was survival. This is something that’s important.”

“Y/N, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Why does that suddenly matter to you?”

You both wince at the sharpness of your words and you turn away from him, suddenly embarrassed of your own outburst. Harsh silence blankets you both as you keep your gazes trained forward. The tension in the air is heavy and thick. 

Your tight voice cuts through the quiet with a single question.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He feels like he’s gonna be sick. 

“I–”

A giant crash abruptly resounds through the cockpit, causing the three of you to jerk forward. Alarms uproar through the ship as the two of you scramble into position at the console. Your fingers find the buttons easily, pulling up the radar and scanning the area for the threat.

A comm chimes in, “Give us the child, Mandalorian! It’s no use trying to run.”

“It’s a gunship, coming in from behind us,” you quickly inform, “Shit! The shields are weak, we need to get out of here now.” 

He nods in agreement, gripping the controls again and lurching the ship forward and speeding off. Your attackers follow in hot pursuit, blasting your ship again. A hit lands, shaking the Crest violently again, earning a strangled cry from behind you.

“Y/N! The baby!” Din grunts, veering the ship back on course.

“Right!” 

You nearly leap from your seat, securing and shushing the panicked child as you close his pram to keep him from falling amidst the chaos. Coming back to the co-pilot’s seat, you curse as you read through the multiple alarms flashing across the ship’s interface.

“Our shields are down, Mando. We need to end this.”

He curses under his breath, weighing their options. They didn’t have enough fuel for a hyperspace jump, nor the time to make any proper calculations. His gaze darts to the green planet approaching up ahead and bites the inside of his cheek. A crash isn’t ideal, but it solves the issue of being stranded in dead space. Another jolt and crash rock the ship forward. 

“Strap in,” He barks at you, “We’re shooting our way out and going for an emergency landing.” You nod, securing yourself in your seat and preparing yourself for battle.

--

“It isn’t the worst planet to get stuck on.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we’re stuck.”

The two of you stood at the foot of the Razor Crest which was currently smoking and leaking fuel into the forest floor. Though you’d survived the gunfight above, the ship had taken serious damage. The shield generators were nearly destroyed and the repulsor grilles were shot, making it impossible to fly the Crest without spinning off course. Normally, with the help of a mechanic, the job could be done within a matter of days, but you were both stuck in a thick forest with the next town over being at least a day’s walk. Repairs could take at least a week with the spare parts that were already kept in the ship, and travelling into town could easily make it two, assuming they’d even have what you need. This posed 2 issues:

Every day you stayed idle, the higher the risk of another hunter (or worse, an Imperial) turning up and kidnapping the child.

Din had yet to feel the wrath that had been building up inside you for the past three years. If the hunters didn’t shoot him, you definitely would, and you wouldn’t miss.

He takes his gaze off the ship and observes your surroundings. All things considered, it was a pretty nice place. The forest was lush, rife with tall trees and bright flora. The air was fresh and cool, and the whistles of birds carried through the treetops. He was somewhat grateful; you could have easily been stuck in a scorching desert or some awful jungle. Past the clearing–which had inadvertently been made by the ship crash– there was a lake, crystal clear and stretching for miles. If the circumstances were any different, maybe you would have enjoyed yourselves, stopped and admired the scenery together.

But they weren’t.

The fact of the matter is that there’s something acrid that permeated the air between you. Sometimes, he could catch it in the way you looked at him, how your eyes flared with sharp, visceral rage and piercing through his beskar like a hot blade. He saw it in the cantina at your reunion, and he felt it twist his heart during your last exchange before you landed. 

“Why does it suddenly matter to you?”

Discussing the rift between you wasn’t a conversation he was eager to have. The attack on the Crest only delayed the inevitable, and now, shipwrecked on an unknown planet, he waited anxiously for the years to catch up on him. Your irritation with him didn’t die when you’d landed; it might’ve actually gotten worse. Every furrow of your brows, every curse under your breath only reminded Din of how much you were dying to say, and it only amplified his dread. But being the practical person you were, you remained focused on survival first, setting up camp and laying out a plan for repairs in the morning.  Going into town would have to wait, as you weren’t sure what state the ship would be in after its initial mending. You stayed silent in the hours you both tended to your respective duties and it wasn’t until the late afternoon that he felt your presence once again.

He was in the middle of counting ration packs when you said, “We need firewood. It might be cold tonight.”

Din nodded, but as he watched you begin to walk away into the woods, he couldn’t help but spill the words bubbling in his throat. 

“About what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to offend you,” he stood to his full height, “You’re–you’re right. It’s not my business anymore.”

You didn’t respond to him for a moment; your expression, frozen and unreadable. Your gaze tears away from him to look down at the toes of your shoes, and he hears you let out a dejected, breathy laugh as you shook your head. 

“You know what I don’t get?” You ask, cynicism dripping from your lips, “You never answered my question on the ship.”

Din clenches his fists, nausea suddenly returning to him.

“Khan wasn’t a hard job. You could’ve easily caught him without me, so why? Why did you bring me? Why did you find me?”

“I couldn’t go into the terminal without attracting attention.”

“No, but you could’ve waited for him to move. Tracked him somewhere else,” your tone grows more clipped by the second, “I know you. You’re the best in the parsec and you would’ve found him. I might’ve gotten shot, but there were way harder quarries than him.”

When he still doesn’t answer, you march forward, fuming with indignation.

“For once, can you just tell me the truth?”

Din’s heart was nearly bursting out of his chest, anxiety rippling through him as he confessed.

“I need help,” he croaks, nearly cringing at the weakness and desperation in his tone, “with him.”

He beckons over to the child, carelessly toddling along the floor. Din watches your expression soften with pity as you watch him play.  

“I don’t...I don’t know what I’m doing,” He continues, “I’m so confused and–and lost. I worry about him all the time. He’s always in danger. I’ve tried to give him a home, somewhere safe. But the Empire won’t stop until they find him.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one I trust in this universe.”

Din waits for your answer with bated breath, drinking in every reaction. You looked pained, fingers finding their way to the bridge of your nose, pressing hard and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“And I’m supposed to trust you in return?”

Once again, he doesn’t respond, fearing that he’d only make the situation worse.

“You know I can’t do this.”

You cross your arms, hugging your body as you turn away from the kid to face him. He feels his heart sink, distress clawing away at him. I need you; I can’t lose you again. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

“Could you at least think about it?”

“I can’t,” you say sternly, “I’m sorry about the kid, but I know you can figure something out. I’m not the right person, and you need to find someone else.”

You are. More than right. More than I deserve.

“I don’t know who else I can turn to.”

“Mando, you don’t understand,” your voice turns angry once again, “I can’t live everyday not knowing if you’re gonna stick around or not.”

“Things are different, Y/N. I’m not going to leave.”

“Why? Because you have a baby to take care of, you’re suddenly willing to stick around?  What happens if things get serious? What is keeping you from walking out tomorrow? A few weeks from now? Are you gonna leave me without a ship this time? Shoot me if I don’t cooperate?”

Stop stop stop stop. He raises his voice, not in ire but in desperation, “This isn’t about us, this is about him!”

“It’s always going to be about us!” Din is stunned to silence as your eyes turn glossy and red with tears, “And after everything, I–I can’t trust you.  I mean–kriff– you left me in the worst way possible. You only offered me a job because you knew I wouldn’t have listened to you in the first place, didn’t you?”

His shoulders go rigid, head dipping in shame.

You scoff, sucking in a deep, shaky breath before you go on, “We can’t act like nothing ever happened and just push it aside for the kid; it’s always going to be there. Every time we speak, every time I look at you I–”

You cut yourself off, hesitating to finish your thought. Running your fingers through your hair, you tug at it at it as you let out yet another frustrated huff, “I spent three years of my miserable life trying to figure out what I did wrong. If you can tell me right now what was going through your head that day, then maybe I’ll consider staying. But if you can’t, you need to find someone else.”

The words are there, but get caught in his throat. He’s terrified; speaking them aloud might just rip him in half, but if he doesn’t, he loses you a second time. But they don’t come; they linger and fester and rot on his tongue, and he can only clench his fists harder at his own cowardice.

The way you look at him is soul crushing. 

“I thought so.”

You pick up your pack and sling it over your shoulders, skulking into the woods without another word.

--

You didn’t come back for hours. Night fell across the forest as Din paced outside the Razor Crest, playing out your conversation in his head over and over again until it made him dizzy. His gut was filled with dread as each minute passed by, and he couldn’t figure out if he wanted you to come back at all. It wasn’t until he heard a soft whine from the floating pram that he realized that so much time had passed. Din nearly forgot to feed the child his own hysteria.

“Hey, little womp rat,” he sighed, gently picking him up, “She’s right, huh? I really am a mess.”

The baby’s big glossy eyes stare up at him as if sensing Din’s unease. His tiny hands grab at the thick cloak around his neck, pulling himself upwards and nuzzling his face in between his neck and his pauldron. Is he… comforting me?

Something forms at the base of his throat as he croaks a gentle, “Thanks, kid.”

But this quiet moment of peace is interrupted at the cracking sound of a stick. He stills, listening further as footsteps grow louder and louder. His blaster is out and aimed behind him before he can even think to look. He whips around, clutching the baby closer to him only to see you abruptly dropping the chopped wood in your hands to the floor. The baby begins to cry at the sudden shift in movement.

He relaxes, letting his arm fall to his side but not holstering his blaster. Instead, he gently bounces the child in his other arm in an attempt to soothe him.

“It’s okay. It’s just Y/N,” he says softly. When Din looks back to you, you’re still frozen on the spot. His brows furrow beneath his helmet.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You stutter, “Can you put that fucking thing away, please?”

He looks at the child, and back to you. A flare of irritation ignites in his chest.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Every time you point you point it at me, I expect you to pull the trigger.”

Oh. Shit.

Guilt pierces through his chest. He quickly slips it back into his holster

“I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you,” he apologizes. You’re still unmoving, looking at him as if he’d just burned you.

“Y/N, you know I would never–“

“But you were going to.”

“Not even then.”

As Din begins to walk forward, he notices the way your body shakes violently. His hand gingerly goes to rest against your arm to comfort you, but you tear yourself away from him, wrapping inward as you seethe.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

The look in your eyes makes Din’s blood run cold. Your pointed stare was piercing and hot and raw. It seared and flared with white hot wrath. Your breathing was ragged, chest heaving up and gasping for air. There it is.

The visceral rage and contempt you held for him had finally surfaced. It festered and boiled over, consuming you to the point where Din thought you would’ve killed him on the spot. But then, revulsion contorts your face, and you quickly shove past him, leaving him paralyzed in your wake. You disappear behind the Crest, and he hears you dropping to the ground.

He winces at the sound of you heaving the contents of your stomach into the lake. 

Din sets the baby down into his carrier, and quickly rounds the corner of the ship to see you on your hands and knees at the edge of the water. 

He’s speechless. The only words he could manage sounded disgustingly miserable from his vocoder.

“I’m so sorry.”

You sniffle as you drag yourself up from the ground. You don’t turn around to face him. 

“You don’t have to tell me why you left. Even if I deserve an explanation,” you say, voice strained and pathetic.

“Because when this is all over, I don’t ever want to see you again. Keep your money and your jobs. I don’t care if it pays enough for ten lifetimes. If you ever try to find me, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

-

taglist:

@bella-ciaao , @tiffdawg thanx loves <3

[mwolf0epsilon]

Hello! Writing prompt for you! in your after studio au what about the point of view of the toons finally free inside an unknown world? Do this only if you want or if you haven't already done it. Thank you very much ^w^

Summary: After the studio, there's a lot of new development with the toons.

Another case of getting two birds with one stone. I had a request on AO3 for some Sammy X Norman goodness for Post-Studio AU and I also wanted to play around with the toons, so here you go!

[[MORE]]

One of the hardest challenges was without a doubt healing and rehabilitating the twisted and imperfect toons that had come out of Joey's revolting experimentation. Creatures that had once been broken, feral and horrifying to look upon if just from how wrong their forms had turned out. Pipers, Fishers and Strikers that hadn't been good enough to be Charleys, Barleys and Edgar's, among a few other creatures that had evaded Henry during his journey through the damned cartoon studio.

Toons that were slowly stabilizing and becoming less what he associated with danger and more similar to what they were truly meant to be, if not a little unique in their own way.

Well, not counting the ones that had been absorbed by those who had "donated" pieces into their creation that is… Some toons just weren't meant to be and others were just the missing piece that a Searcher needed to ascend into higher thought as a Lost One.

Still, even after a series of purges, there remained a few sets of Butcher Gang clones as well as one singular Chester creature.

There was also something else that had been a little alarming at first. What Henry could only describe as pulsating "embryos" (not really but he didn't know what else to equate them to) that had been formed from excess ink that had sloughed off from the more stable studio employees.

A process that didn't start immediately after leaving the studio, rather, a few months after everyone started to settle.

Henry still couldn't forget the vivid image of Sammy being sick for an entire week, spitting up ink every so often, and then throwing up a massive blob of congealed ink that had slowly shaped itself into a Bendy clone with the most unsettling pair of eyes he'd ever seen. He doubted Sammy himself could forget the disturbing experience, and was also pretty sure he was a little traumatized by it.

Even so he seemed to almost have taken to toon in as if he were his own child. Not as worrisome as veneering the little fella, but still quite hard to grasp considering his… unorthodox birth…

"Any more Searcher incidents since I've been gone to check on the girls?" Henry had asked as he was let inside by Allison, catching a whiff of breakfast being cooked. Pancakes and coffee from the smell of things. Like a quaint little cafe or the Stein household in his youth. Comforting.

"Not since two weeks ago. All Searchers have actually become Lost Ones since you've been gone." She'd responded as she led the old cartoonist into the spacious kitchen.

The table was quite long, and the seats provided were no longer mostly composed of pillows and stacks of books to boost certain inhabitants of the house. The Projectionist was still forced to kneel to eat thanks to the added weight of the machinery that was a part of his body, but he didn't complain from where he was leaning into Sammy and his height more than compensated for it anyway. Henry could just about see Susie carefully braiding the many tangled wires and thick cables connected to the Projectionist's head and back.

"Uh, really? How many toons left then?" Glancing around he noted that not everyone had come down to eat yet. Tom and Buddy likely both being in the bathroom washing up from running outdoors. A favourite activity of his.

"Three sets of Butcher Gang clones. Two are incomplete." Allison explained. "We think we know who was the originator of the complete set, but their Charley has stated that the trio is fairly happy to remain as they currently are. They are nearly perfect if you ignore the heavy scarring and prosthetics."

"I take it that's Mr. Allwine's set?" Henry guessed. Humming in understanding when she nodded rather than verbalizing her confirmation.

"I recall Mel now that things are coming back to me. He really enjoyed voicing those three, so I'm not surprised he'd rather remain as the Butcher Gang." Susie added as she finished the messy braid of wiring. "I'll miss his jokes though…"

"I certainly won't. He was a jackass at best…" Sammy huffed, eyeing the unblinking toon currently hiding under his chair. "Don't repeat that around the Edgars… Charley and the Barleys will wallop you into fine impish ink."

"M'not stupid." The little imp retorted in Sammy's own voice, although it sounded much younger. Less weighted down by a bitter and heavy conscience.

"I'm not implying that you are, just giving you a fair warning. Socialized or not, those crooks are always eager to pick a fight." Like a parent passing on sage advice, Sammy offered the little wandering menace a pat before pressing a kiss to the Projectionist's neck.

The larger ink man rumbled happily and seemed content between his two favourite people, and even passed a piece of toast to the little devil hidden under the chair. They made for an odd family unit, but Henry was very sure they were happier than they'd been for a long time.

"Sometimes I forget you had to raise a kid before all this…" Henry chuckled, amused by the domesticity of it all, before turning back to Allison. "The incomplete sets?"

"Not a clue. Well, there's one that's just an Edgar, but we know he was part of Grant… Although he reformed without needing to assimilate that piece." She shrugged "The little guy is more mature than the other two Edgars. I'd say he's more of a teenager even."

"And the remaining incomplete set?"

"An Edgar and a Barley. They lost their Charley a while back, but they haven't clung to any particular employee that we can tell… Grant's Edgar has been around them a lot though, so they seem content." Allison flipped the pancakes over as she spoke. "They also orbit around Mel's Butcher Gang. I think his Charley makes them feel safe."

"Good to always have an emotional safety net I suppose…" Henry was at least glad that they hadn't reverted into feral creatures. Socializing them had been pretty difficult considering how messed up they'd been from their failed creation process. Like teaching feral cats to trust. "Anything else?"

"Norman's been leaking a little." Sammy offered. "Not enough to be alarming, but just about enough that we're sure we're uh… Well. Expecting extra company."

As if to prove Sammy's point, the Projectionist let out a choked wet cough, the tube connected to his esophagus uncoiling and shuddering before a blob splattered onto Sammy's lap.

Henry winced at the mess, and gave the curly haired musician a sympathetic look as his face went completely blank. Likely registering what had just happened.

"Ewwww…" the not quite perfect Bendy clone inched away from the drippy mess, while Susie shook her head and got up.

"I'll get the napkins…"

In the Projectionist's defense, he looked quite sheepish for a creature that couldn't properly emote. Hunched shoulders and claws tapping together as he looked down at his knees in shame.

"Lovely…" Sammy pinched the bridge of his nose and just let the blob fall to the ground. It twitched slightly but remained as it was. "You'd think the miracle of childbirth would be nicer to bare witness to..."

"Even if it were the more conventional and biologically sound method, I can assure you it's not as beautiful as most would have you believe." Henry offered with a tight smile as he tried not to think about the tiny inky organism that was slowly reshaping itself into the vague figure of a comic strip character. "And I was there to see it happen twice."

"I take it there was a lot of screaming involved?" Sammy smiled at Susie as she returned with the napkins. He started patting the stains carefully, letting the ink soak into the napkin.

"On my part? Plenty." Henry winced "No one ever told me there's more after the baby comes out… And it didn't get easier the second time around. Linda nearly crushed my hands…"

It didn't take long for breakfast to be done and every single household member to rush down to eat once called upon.

Only now the Projectionist was holding a toon of his own, while he vacuumed up cut up pieces of pancake and orange juice.

All things considered, having a new playmate for the other toons wasn't a bad thing.

If only the little blighter wasn't a troublemaking super villain… His first action was to shoot the pancake pieces out of Tom's fork and the large toon wolf was none too pleased when the little jerk started giggling about it.

-

Binky was surprisingly the easiest of the toons to get along with, right after Buddy. Outside of the studio, the Ink Demon was no longer a sinister figure that haunted the imagination of those who'd suffered in Joey Drew's nightmare.

Instead he was something closer to the cartoon character he was meant to be. Except he was much less troublesome than the mischievous and often misguided devil darling himself. In fact, the lanky imp was rather shy.

Sure he still looked far too human in proportions, and he was still learning how to speak, but honestly nothing about him was as off-putting as Henry initially thought. He felt bad judging him on appearances alone. Just like Joey had…

And, knowing what he did now, Henry didn't blame Binky for any of what he did in the studio.

The tiresome plotline, the living Ink's conflicting will, and the isolation had been the source of the Ink Demon's violent actions.

A scared and confused toddler following the bad examples of others.

But not anymore.

Not for as long as Henry was here to protect these people and help them grow.

Binky's less rumbustious disposition also meant he had a tendency to opt for calmer and more relaxing things to do. Like sleep under the shade of a tree when the weather was nice, watching the fish swim by in the stream, or pick flowers of all shapes, sizes and colors. Often doing so while watching the other toons run around and frolik like wild children.

Most often the poor guy was the unsuspecting victim of the Wanderer's shenanigans (despite Sammy's constant reminders to play nice).

With the addition of Cameraman, things were more hectic.

Others had lost their own excess ink in the span of the few days of Henry's visit, so the roster of toons consistently grew the better some people recuperated.

Jack had actually come down to visit as well, looking positively happy to find so many were experiencing something similar to himself.

In the first week of living with his husband and roommates, he'd apparently shed some more of his own ink and later found a small cartoon sheep staring up at him from under his bathroom sink. That had been an interesting night for the Fains.

Said sheep was eager to meet two others who'd been formed off of two other members of the Music Department. Johnny Brokeheart, the organist that had once been imprisoned inside his beloved instrument, and Julian Whitaker, the cellist that had sometimes visited the Prophet's domain for protection as a Lost One with a prominent limp.

The Woolly Triplets were happy to be together for a few hours before Jack returned home with his third of the trio. The little guy was reluctant to leave Jack's side, and both he and Theo had grown attached to him anyway.

It'd feel strange to part ways so suddenly.

Henry had marveled at the interesting cast of characters that were still coming together.

There were now three wolves, three angel, a demoness, a living camera, two imps, a leprechaun, two pirates, a living pirate chess, and three spiders.

He could only imagine what else might pop up the next time he came around to check on everyone.

It was truly a full house.

One full of silly shenanigans and exasperated parents that didn't want to admit their kids were adorable but little hellions. Such an odd thought, being a parent to a cartoon character that had at one point been their means to earn money… Odder still how easily they connected with them.

Perhaps because they'd come from them? Like an actual offspring?

That seemed to be the case with Sammy at least. If anyone had reasons to resent a certain grinning devil, it had to be the false prophet who'd grown disillusioned.

He loved the little Wanderer though.

Unsettling eyes and grin be damned, he was a proud da and did what he could to raise him.

Same with Norman who actually had proper experience as a father, and then even Susie who'd been a little miffed that she didn't have a little Alice to tend to, but still took on the responsibility of teaching Miss Twisted to not be too much of a nuisance (she loved her really, like mother like daughter they ended up becoming in less than an hour).

Even those who Henry hadn't pegged as the sort to want to be parents were doing grand with their own toons.

Grant was an exemplary father despite his neurotic personality, and even Bertrum and Lacie seemed fond of acting as an uncle and aunt to the toons. Teaching them things and letting them get away with things their parents wouldn't.

It was… honestly very nice.

Nothing the toons didn't deserve after such a rough start.

[gyllen-haall]

Request: Omegaverse, where a possessive Alpha Shiro who is embarrassed by his own jealousy when someone comes and flirts with Lance. (Who can be either a beta or an omega) Lance just acts like it's fine and allows Shiro to do as he wishes. No smut, please. Thank you!

Hello Anon! I typically post these on AO3, but this one was hard so I'm sorry it's not the usual quality of my work. Here you go!

____________________________________________________________________________

"You're not going out in that." 

Shiro said as Lance walked toward their shared bedroom door to leave. The brunette turned back toward the older paladin with a confused expression. Lance was wearing a blue shirt and black skinny jeans, super simple and comfortable.

"Is something wrong?"

He looked up at Shiro and saw a look on his face he'd never seen before, all of his instincts were telling him to obey as he stood there frozen. The brunette just gave the alpha a nervous smile and all but sprinted to their closet until a hand caught his wrist.

Steel gray eyes peered down at Lance, lance felt a cold chill run through him because shiro has never acted like this before. Even when Lance has stumbled out of their room only dressed in boxers, the older male just happily followed after him in similar attire. 

"Shiro," the younger stumbled out as Shiro slowly pinned both of Lances arms behind him in a gentle but firm hold. Then his metallic hand held Lances head to the side to give him more access to the youngers neck.

Their newly formed mating bond was covered by Lances shirt, which was quickly becoming a problem. He released Lances jaw and used his prosthetic to cut open the collar of his betas shirt. 

"There," Shiro chirped as he released Lance and stood back to look at his work. Lance just stood there dumbfounded, because they'd created these bonds a few months ago during Lances heat.

But they've refreshed their bonds a few times since then just to make sure the bonds were done properly and accepted by their respective sub genders. Their most recent one was yesterday, which would probably be their last because the bonds were healing perfectly and embedding into their skin after being welcomed by their bodies.

Each time after, Shiro was a bit possessive and clingy, but never to this extent. Suddenly, Lance was being picked up and laid back in bed as shiro followed after him. The brunette didn't even have a second to breathe before a hickey was being created right behind his ear.

He pushed Shiro off in a panic, who looked like a kicked puppy. They had only agreed to places where others couldn't see, not that it had stopped Shiro when in a possessive fit before, but still.

"What is going on? I'm not mad, I just want to know what's up."

Shiros cheeks flushed instantly, "I don't know what came over me, my instincts are just all over the place." Lance hummed in response as the older figited in place, like we was fighting himself from doing something.

Lance guilded shiros chin up so that they were making direct eye contact, thats when he smelt it. A small chuckle came from Lance as he pulled the confused alpha closer, "you're  jealous."

The pink went to red as Shiro put his head down in shame, Lance just cooed and settled into the alphas lap. Giving him perfect access to his neck and half done hickey, they had a few more minutes before he had to leave anyway.

"You have a minute to mark me, as dark, large, and much as you want." The second the words left lances mouth, Shiro went from a kicked puppy to a dog about to get a whole bag of treats. Lance swore he could see his lovers forelock swaying gently like a dogs tail would when happy.

And oh my, did Shiro use every single second. When Lance stood, it was like a bunch of ants had just bitten at his neck. The hickey behind his ear was about the size of a golf ball and at least 10 dime sized hickeys were scattered across his neck.

"Holy shit 'Kash," Lance said as he inspected his neck further, "you got a mini vacuum I should know about?"

Deep laughter is all the response he got from his lover who smiled back sheepishly. 

"I just didn't like the way the people looked at you yesterday."

Lance shook his head fondly as he took off his now ruined shirt and rummaged through their closet in amusement.

"Everyone looks up to the mature, collected, and responsible leader, but if only they knew the utter puppy you are." 

A small groan was heard from behind Lance as he pulled out a white dress shirt with 'Shirogane' on the pocket. He grabbed his cream trench coat and slacks before he turned around with a solid nod.

"Marking me like a puppy establishing their territory," Lance said as he stuck his tongue out at the other. 

"I'm not a puppy," shiro said stubbornly with his arms crossed.  Lance rolled his eyes, "but puppies are cute." He walked over to press a kiss to Shiros lips before he whispered, "besides, I wouldn't mind if you wore more adult dog stuff in be-"

"Lance."

The latter just giggled at his lovers stern tone and flushed cheeks, opting to just press a kiss to his mates nose and go. But his plans were quickly foiled as he noticed as Shiro pulled him down into bed with him. 

"Please be safe," Shiros worried tone made Lance frown, he ran gentle hands through the alphas short hair and brought their foreheads together. 

He and keith were going to go stroll around a planet who they were newly at alliance with, a planet that also had similar sub genders. They were still at risk for getting kidnapped or jumped by people who were still working for the Galra.

"We're bringing our bayards and staying in highly populated areas. I promise we'll be okay."

Lance was a beta, but he was a little more sensitive to smells and alphas than he would like. But with lances heightened senses, many thought he was an omega and would try to command him around. 

It happened yesterday, when the locals were very flirty toward Lance and Keith, which in turn made both hunk and Shiro turn into overprotective alpha shadows. A handmaid held him back and offered to show Lance around, he politely declined as he tried to catch up to the others.

She stopped him and pressed herself as close to him as she could, releasing her pheromones in an attempt to seduce the beta. He backed away from her slowly and bumped into a strong chest.

It was his lovely mate who growled at the maid who took off running the second they made eye contact. He smelled a little bit like her which made Shiro walk him back to the castle so that he could wash her scent off. 

After his shower, Shiro had claimed Lance again and kept Lance attached to his hip at all times. But during the alliance discussion, Shiro was calm and sensible throughout the whole thing. He masked being possessive very well and only let it flare when him and lance were alone.

A small beep on the wall clock told Lance that he had gotten lost in the moment and that it was already 10 am. Shiro let him go with one last kiss to the lips and a worried, but sweet smile.

When Lance stepped out into the lounge, he was surprised to see that Keith wasn't there before him. He had a pretty good idea that Keith was also going through the same thing,  because alphas wanted their mates to smell like them so people knew that they were taken. 

Like right now, as he smelled of his possessive boyfriend while Keith walked in also smelling of his alpha. He smiled over at Keith who immediately grabbed his hand and rushed them into a pod. 

Once inside, he watched Keith immediately relax and shoot him a small smile. 

"Sorry, Hunk just wouldn't let me go this morning. First, it was that I needed to shower. Then, it was that he didn't like how I smelled. Finally, it was that I wasn't dressed properly for the weather! I just wanted to shake him till his head came off!"

He put an arm around Keith after he had set the pod on autopilot as he punching in the coordinates. The elder just curled up with Lance and laid his head on Lance's shoulder, near his scent gland.

It was common for them, they curl up with each other and sometimes even pidge because Lance likes contact and the others are instantly soothed by his scent. Keith was no longer tense and a small smile pulled at Lance's lips.

"You know how alphas are man, just be patient and go along with it for the time being. I used to get upset with Shiro when he got like that. But I've found that if you just go along with it, they get all pleased with themselves and let you go on your merry way."

Keith hummed and silently urged Lance to keep talking, his voice was really nice to listen too as he grew older.

"Remember that one time I looked like I had just tumbled out of Alaska when it was hot as all hell on that one planet?"

The elder nodded against Lance's shoulder as gentle laughter shook through Lance's chest.

"Yeah...that was Shiro, he didn't like how the people flirted with me so he covered me up in things that smelled like him."

"Of course he did."

Lance watched as Keith shook his head gently with amusement, he had witnessed some of Shiro's overprotective moods over the years. 

"Trust me, it's annoying at first but you'll get the hang of it as you continue."

"I believe you, and...thanks Lance."

The pod had landed on the planets surface, so with a small pat on the shoulder, Lance stood up and helped Keith up after.

"No problem buddy." 

They stepped out of the pod and Lance immediately took a deep breath. He saw Keith looking at something, and immediately got an idea.

"Race you to the city!"

And the brunette took off, with Keith hot on his heels.

[purplesurveys]

1083

surveys by chasingghosts

Just a boring word association survey inspired by one of my old ones. Say the first thing that comes to your head. Don't overthink it :)

Keyboard: Monitor.

Dog: Dalmatian.

School: Pencils.

Italy: Roman Holiday. Ahh one of my favorite movies; such a classic.

Fire: BTS, heh.

Table: Chairs.

Mask: Face mask. New normal and all.

Blanket: Weighted blankets. I still don’t get how they work and I keep imagining that a 20-lbs blanket would feel too warm...I guess I’m willing to try it for a night, but I dunno if I would want to spend 5,000 bucks on one.

Gun: That curly-haired blonde dumbass from the US who keeps bringing one around.

Soda: Fizzy. Do not like.

Man: Trash.

Beautiful: Beast. Beautiful and the Beast is the knockoff version, hahaha.

Country: Roads.

Dictionary: Thesaurus.

Play: Playgrounds.

Yoga: Mat.

Cross: Country.

Happy: Emojis.

Change: Coins.

Orange: The fruit with the same name. Also, hair dye.

Cereal: Fruity Pebbles and Lucky Charms.

Record: Vinyl records, aka what I would like to invest in eventually.

Jail: The Shawshank Redemption, even though I personally didn’t really like it lmao.

Tank: This made me think of the Elisa Lam case. It’s unfortunate what happened to her but personally, I’ll always be more disturbed by the stories of people who had to drink or bathe in that nasty contaminated water.

Plane: Travel. :(

Machine: Factories.

Empty: Outer space.

Medicine: Nasty taste. Whenever I was sick as a kid my parents/grandma always made me drink Tempra which tastes like shit and it took a lot of effort for me not to throw them back up. I hope kids these days have more better-tasting options for medicine.

Stockings: Uncomfortable. I hate stockings and always dread occasions where I’ll have to put them on. Fortunately I haven’t had to for five years now.

Curry: Spicy and aromatic.

Football: Superbowl. Or is it SuperBowl? Super Bowl? Anyway, that event.

Blonde: Jennifer Aniston, heheh.

Pink: Barbie.

Cart: Online shopping.

Bag: Herschel.

Bourbon: Breaking Bad, though I’m not sure if it was indeed bourbon that Hank/Walt regularly drank. First thing that came to mind, though.

Karaoke: Philippine parties.

Caterpillar: That chemical they release when they’re stepped on.

Wizard: Harry Potter.

Number: Queues, lol.

Tired: Myself.

Baby: Baby videos.

Beach: Moana.

Castle: The first thing I thought of is this big orange castle - that is actually an inn - that I would have to pass by every single morning on my way to school, from kinder to high school. It looked like such a pretty, magical castle as a kid and I, along with probably all of my schoolmates who went the same route, thought a real princess lived in it; it just felt that magical. But as I got older I realized most inns/hotels with outlandish gimmicks are the cheap and tacky ones, so the magic was ruined for me as the years went by, haha.

Rock: Patrick Star from Spongebob, since he lives under one.

Hotel: Top-notch hospitality and service.

Weather: Gloomy.

Beanbag:  Comfort.

Clean: Vacuum cleaners...and my mom.

Angry: Rage.

--

I was inspired to make this when I saw a similar survey on here. Answer true or false, or simply mark an 'x' for what applies to you.

Michelle:

You love anything Disney related. I mean not anything? I wouldn’t want Disney merch of every single thing that could be turned into merch; but I do love Disney movies and they have always been great at creating songs that make you feel all magical and giddy inside.

You find any excuse to go shopping. False. I haven’t created a hobby out of shopping; at least not yet, I think. But going inside H&M several times for the past month to buy gifts for my friends has definitely helped in making me see the appeal of shopping. For now, though, I’d still rather do my browsing and shopping in non-clothing stores.

You’re younger than most of your friends. False. I have older and younger friends, but most of them are also 1998 babies since most of my friends are the people I went to school with.

You have really long hair, to your waist or longer. False. It has gotten a lot longer over the past year, but it’s still only up to my upper chest.

You’re pretty antisocial. False. I don’t like throwing this term around loosely because it’s a real personality disorder. I have also gotten more comfortable with people in the last few years and I don’t prefer to be alone anymore.

You have a pet dog/cat that sleeps in your bed with you. False. Either are terrible in staying in bed.

You haven’t had your first kiss yet. False. I had it six years ago, and I have shared hundreds and probably thousands of kisses after that.

You’re Asian. We finally got one! Haha.

You’re good at cooking. Yeah, this is the biggest false statement in this category.

You have dreams of working as a chef. I can see how it’s appealing, but it was never a career dream of mine. My dad is a chef, though.

Cheyenne:

You’re blonde, but not naturally. I currently don’t have plans to dye my hair blonde.  

You always have your fingernails painted. False. I’m the complete opposite of this, but I do want to start having my nails painted professionally as a way to pamper myself from time to time.

You obsess over things easily, to the point of them taking over your life. True, I guess. I get very sensitive and I overthink and overanalyze a lot of actions and situations that aren’t meant to be more than what they actually are. Just last night and this morning I had a bunch of dreams that had to do with a work-related problem I ran into last night. When I feel anxious about something, they would undoubtedly take over my life and it would take a while to break free from them.

You spend a lot of time on the internet. For almost every single minute that I am awake, yes. Sometimes I’ll attempt to disconnect every now and then - which I’ve been better at, to be fair to myself - but it’s always only a matter of time before I will have to look something up on Google.

Your phone may as well be surgically attached to your hand. True. I will occasionally turn it completely off so that no notifications come in, especially during weekends and holidays; but it stays close to me all the same.

You use Snapchat way too much. False. Not anymore, but I definitely used too. I had Snap streaks of varying lengths with a lot of my friends back then. 

You eat a lot of fast food. True and I don’t really feel bad about it, lmao. I love food that tastes good.

You love a bit of gossip. Also true. Not my nicest trait but I do like to keep updated. I mostly receive them though; I never spread or start any myself.

You’re really good at keeping secrets. It’s not my story to tell, so yes, true. I used to share secrets only with Gabie since she was very forgetful, but obviously I don’t have that kind of person anymore.

You’ve never had a boyfriend/girlfriend. False. I’ve had one and we had two stints together.

Morgan:

You work as a receptionist. False, but my mom used to be one. This was before she made the transfer to a more corporate workspace as a secretary.

You eat a lot of food yet you’re still so thin. True. Runs in both sides of the family.

Your siblings are your best friends. My sister and I have a very casual relationship, and while we’re on great terms we don’t do cheesy nor sentimental. I’m not on speaking terms with my brother.

Not many people see your face without makeup. False. Everybody sees me without makeup all the time precisely because I don’t like putting makeup on.

You spend your money carelessly. I can, especially when it comes to spoiling myself or other people. But I am also equally good at saving if I have to.

You dream of living overseas one day. I can confidently tell you that a lot of Filipinos consider this because the situation here hasn’t been stable for the longest time – politically, because we’ve always been led by incompetent heads; economically, because of the Marcoses’ dictatorship and abuse of power and the country’s funds; and socially, because of all the backward, Catholic stances that my country continues to stand for. I would love to live in a place where I wouldn’t be glared at for holding a girl’s hand or where most people are educated enough to vote responsible people into office.

You have a penpal. False. Never had one, never been interested in finding one.

You’re older than most of your friends. False. I vibe the best with people my age so even if I do have some younger friends, my comfort zone are with those who are also 22.

Most of your friends live out of town. An overwhelming majority of them live in Metro Manila, yes. I live just right outside so technically I’m the one who lives ~out of town~

You swear like a sailor. Eh, not anymore. I still let out a number of swear words daily, though. Just not in every sentence.

Tom:

You have so many nicknames that it’s hard for you to keep track. False. I have a grand total of one nickname, and even that is just reserved for family. Most people just call me Robyn.

You have large feet. False as well. My feet are small and can easily slip into size 5 or 6 shoes.

Most of your friends are of the opposite sex. Can’t say this is true. I can only think of one guy friend, who is Hans. I haven’t been able to keep up with my other friends, like JM and Ed, since most of them are busy with either law or med school, and simply because Covid has kept us from seeing each other.

Romantic relationships make you shy and nervous. Getting into one does. Once settled I’m pretty comfortable, mainly because I enjoy nothing more than looking out for the people I love. I’m not looking for a relationship though; not anytime soon.

You watch reality shows religiously. Eh, I wouldn’t describe it as ‘religiously’ but I do watch my fair share of them from time to time when I just want stupid, too-easy-to-digest content.

Pop music is your favourite. One of my favorites. I used to be shy about liking Top 40 songs but the older I get the more I realized that that’s music snobs’ problem and shouldn’t be mine.

Family is very important to you. Only because I’m Asian and family being ~important comes as a default the moment I was born. I’m not emotionally close with them though and they honestly probably wouldn’t weigh so much if I had to make major decisions, like migrating to the other side of the world or having a civil wedding.

You’re the youngest child in your family. False - complete opposite. I am the eldest.

You call your mother by her first name. False. Save for others who may not have the best relationships with their mothers, why would someone do this? :/

You dream of living in a big city one day. True. Yeah, absolutely. Give me all the construction noises and busy traffic and skyscrapers. I feel like I would be the most alive I’ve ever been once I start to live in a loud and hectic big city.

Harry:

You’re determined and motivated in all aspects of your life. Not always. That sounds exhausting. I allow myself to take a breather every now and then; and if I want to be unproductive for a while, I don’t ban myself from being so.

You’re much taller than the majority of your friends. Haha, definitely false. I belong to the smaller batch. I had a massive growth spurt from ages 9-10 but then it just kinda stopped there lol.

You go to the gym at least three days a week. Not the gym, but I do work out from home with that frequency.

You care a lot about your appearance. Ehhh I’m gonna say false. Having to stay/work from home does that. I like dressing up when I get to go outside though, since I seldom get to do it.

You’re a social butterfly. Trueish. I do like being around people more and more now, yeah; but of course, it’s still a work in progress for me. One thing I’m sure if is that I’m definitely not as introverted as I used to be and I have no problem opening up in a group.

You party almost every weekend. I’d love to, but can’t do that for the meantime.

You’re very straightforward and never repeat yourself. Ideally, yes. I like to move on quickly from things and settle them as fast as I can.

You love to write and have been told you’re talented. I do like to write, just not fiction stuff. Writing is my main talent and so I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on it over the years.

You consider yourself intelligent. Booksmart, at least.

You’re a bit of a player. Like, when it comes to relationships and flirting? ...Hell no. Again, very straightforward person lmao I’m either in a relationship or not.

Zack:

You’re in a band. False. Never been and never been interested.

You’re straight-edge. HAH, remember when I claimed to be edge when I was a teenager...I will say that listening to punk throughout high school and being familiar with the straight edge scene gave me a sense of belonging for a time, and it taught me so many important mindsets like positive mental attitude. But I can admit to myself that straight edge was a commitment I failed at, and as the saying goes, “If you’re not now, you never were.” I’ll always be thankful to the movement for helping me keep going during my tough teenage years, though.

You can play two or more instruments. Will it count if I say I know how to play the recorder, maracas, and the triangle? Hahahahaha but in all seriousness, I believe I don’t deserve to bold this.

You’re an uncle/aunt. I’m a godmother, which is pretty much aunt status in the Philippines. My godson is my first cousin though, and him being my cousin takes precedence over the fact that he is my godson.

You love Doctor Who. False. Never got into it.

You’re short for your age and most of your friends tower over you. I’m shorter, thinner, and look younger for my age. Long story short, I look like I’m 16 and I’m the one who gets ID’d the most whenever I enter bars or malls. I always feel triumphant whenever I get to show my driver’s license to judgy bouncers or security guards who look at me all conceitedly, though.

You’ve been cheated on before. False. My ex is heavily against cheating, and I always trusted her.

You have a big family. Any Asian would bold this, let’s be real. My immediate family itself is small with only 5 members; but my entire family – 1st cousins, 2nd cousins, 3rd cousins (and so on), cousins-in-law, cousins of cousins, aunts- and uncles-in-law, great-aunts/uncles and all – would amount to hundreds of relatives.

You have a nap every single day, without fail. Can’t do that as I have a busy 8-hour shift each weekday and I make up for it during weekends by drinking multiple cups of coffee a day.

You’re mostly quiet, but you can be loud when the situation calls for it. Definitely true. Or when I’m with the right mix of people.

Jenny:

You’re really good with computers. False. I know most things a Gen Z-er would know about, like basic spreadsheet formulas, keyboard shortcuts, how to retrieve files that crashed – basically the stuff that would let me survive at work; but to this day, I will still ask my much-techier sister how to download fonts or open ZIPs or compress photos.

You’re shy. At first; but I no longer have a hard time warming up to new people or situations.

You underestimate yourself often. True. While I know this isn’t a very good trait of mine, I find that it’s actually helpful sometimes? Setting my expectations low helps make me proud of myself whenever I succeed or excel at a task. In the long run, I’m okay with this mindset.

You recently moved house. The last time I did this was in 2008. I’m not looking to move out any time soon either as I make far from enough to afford even just renting a place.

You have a German Shepherd. False. The only people I know who own one is Chelsea’s family, but it’s been like five years since I saw that dog.

You wear baggy clothes. False. Not my style.

You almost always wear a beanie. False. I am never seen with a beanie and I only wear one when I’m in places with a much colder climate than Manila, like Baguio.

You have long hair if you’re a boy, and short hair if you’re a girl. Also false. My hair has since gotten a lot longer, and I’m due for another trim.

You recently got out of a really long relationship. True. Not my choice, but true.

You’re in a band. Again, never been.

Emily:

You’re a really good drawer. You mean an artist? False. At 22, I can only promise you stick figures.

You can’t help but doodle on anything you see. If there’s a pen and scratch paper lying around that are free to use, I will most definitely use up the whole page. Instead of doodling, though – since I can’t draw – I write things, practice my penmanship to make sure it hasn’t gotten all rusty, and whatnot. 

You want a career in art. False. That career path has always been paved for my sister.

You’re basically a personal taxi service for your friends who can’t drive. Hahaha this was essentially me in pre-pandemic days. Driving is such a simple good deed for someone considering the shitty public transportation in my country, and I would’ve been an asshole if I didn’t do anything to help my friends out.

Jeans and band shirts are your favourite thing to wear. Mom jeans and just *t-shirts are overall a great casual combo that never gets dated; but I don’t do band shirts.

You’re always wearing a necklace and lots of wristbands/bracelets. False. I would love more jewelry, though.

You have a lot of piercings on your ears. Also false. I’m not interested in piercings.

Your hair is currently an unnatural colour. False. It’s just black.

Not many people see your loud and boisterous side. I save this for my super super close friends.

You have several friend groups which you move between often. I can think of three off the top of my head.

Jack:

You always seem to have a boyfriend/girlfriend. This was me for six yearssssss, haha. The image I held for the longest time is that I was off the market and was in a happy, fulfilling, long-term relationship; so these days, it can get kinda fun watching people fumble around, not used to seeing me single again after what feels like a lifetime.

You have a fear of being single. I used to, only because I was taken for a really long time. I didn’t know if singlehood would work out for me, or how I would handle it. It took some getting used to but I’m happy now. I’m not looking to date, much less consider jumping into another romantic relationship.

When you’re not in a relationship, you’re a big flirter. Not at all. The flirting/dating scene is just not for me.

You are really sensitive and sympathetic towards your friends. I mean...like any good friend? Lmao.

Music means a lot to you. It doesn’t keep me alive per se, but sure.

You often overdo it when you drink alcohol. I wouldn’t say so. I like chugging a lot within the first 30 minutes (which helps because I’m low-tolerance and get lit way earlier than others do lol) but because I’ve always had to drive myself home after drinking nights in college, I’ve been conditioned to still be responsible with my alcohol and to start sobering up 2 hours before I have to leave.

You have no shame and love to be silly and have fun. I do like having fun in many ways, but I am probably the most rigid among my friends. I don’t really like doing silly dares or skits or dances in public.

You’re impulsive and this isn’t always a good thing. I’m working on it and have been better at it over the last few months. Now I take more time to think about things and weigh them out before I make a decision.

You have facial hair. False. There’s some light hair above my lip, nothing super thick or recognizable.

You have a baby brother/sister. False. I have younger siblings but I call neither of them my baby sibling because they are 20 and 17, lmao.

Nicole:

You’re madly in love with your significant other. I don’t get to answer this anymore. If you met me at an earlier time I would’ve gladly said yes, though.

You want to get married when you’re young. False. I want to get married when I feel mature enough and financially capable of handling a marriage and the things that can come out of a marriage, like a house and kids.

You’re quite petite. I’m naturally petite, yes. I’ve always been on the skinny side and I’m also shorter than most of my friends.

You dye your hair regularly. False. It has stayed black all my life, but I do want to experiment with green.

It’s almost impossible for you to feel the cold. False. I’m very sensitive to the cold and will shiver easily in an air-conditioned room.

You’re really good at flattering other people. Sure, I like giving compliments and reassurances.

You’re very self-conscious. And very insecure sometimes, yeah.

You find it difficult to make new friends. Sure, but only because I like to control the people that are in my circle. I’m not desperate to have hundreds of friends so this isn’t an issue for me.

People often stereotype you as emo. I have never gotten this before.

You’ve come a long way in the past couple of years. What can I say? Been through a lot, been through hell and back, been discarded and doubted, but I’m still here.

The end.

Who were you most like? Cheyenne. Cute name, too.

[arysafics]

in the cold i can feel your heat

Summary:  Clarke is determined not to let anyone know she's an Omega, least of all Bellamy Blake, the Alpha she works for. It becomes a little more difficult when they become snowed in at his house.

for @the100whatthefluff

Fluff trope: snowed in Badwrong: A/B/O

Rated E, ~6.2k words

Clarke lets herself in through Bellamy’s front door, the snow on her coat and in her hair already starting to melt. It’s not so bad out there now, just a light dusting, although it’s supposed to get worse later. Clarke plans to be home in front of the heater with a hot cup of coffee by then.

She works for Bellamy from nine until four, her official job title being his personal assistant. Her duties range from answering phone calls, keeping his calendar, and running errands, to making his lunch and washing his clothes. Whatever he asks her to do. Basically, her job is to do the one thing she’s spent her whole life trying to avoid: serving an Alpha.

The one consolation is that he doesn’t know what she is. No one does, except her parents, and the people who taught her how to blend in, how to pass for a Beta. She was fourteen when they realised what she was, and thankfully she was at home when she had her first heat. Her parents had locked her in her room for the duration of it, and Clarke swears she can still remember the pain.

After that, they sent her to a remote boarding school, specifically catering to Omegas, and teaching them how to fit in with the rest of society, without betraying what they really are. It requires constant vigilance, and a hell of a lot of technically illegal drugs. Because it’s illegal to hide your DNA. If you’re an Omega, you’re expected to be one, act like one.

Only, nobody wants to be one. Who would want that? They have basically no rights, and are expected to just serve whatever Alpha claims them, have their babies and stay out of sight. Which is why Clarke has been passing herself off as a Beta for the past four years, since she left school.

She’d been fired from her last job at a bank, after attacking a co-worker for saying some truly vile things about Omegas. Worse than being fired, she almost outed herself. She shudders to think about what would have happened had the Alpha she assaulted figured out what she was.

It was her ex-co-worker, Harper, who set up the job with Bellamy. And Clarke was obviously dubious about working for an Alpha, serving him, alone in his house, especially given her previous experience with Alphas, and what they’d told her about Alphas at her school. But with no college degree, and no experience save the job she was fired from, she couldn’t afford to be picky. And honestly, it’s better than serving customers all day.

Bellamy is a writer, and he spends most of the day in his office writing, or editing, or whatever it is that writers do. She only sees him when he comes out for lunch, or when she brings him coffee, or when he has an urgent phone call from his publisher or whatever. It’s nice, actually.

Even if, occasionally, despite the sensory dulling drugs she’s taking, she catches a whiff of his scent, and it makes her want to wrap herself up in his big, strong arms. Even if she’s disproportionately satisfied when she pleases him. Even if she spends way too much time making herself look pretty before she goes to work. There are some instincts she apparently can’t control. But as long as he doesn’t notice, as long as she’s not lusting after him (which she’s not, because she’s taking drugs that make sure that she’s not), then everything is fine.

She’s also taking drugs to mask her own scent, because without them, Bellamy would know what she was the second she walked into a room with him. Which doesn’t necessarily mean he would want her, or claim her as his. But she’s pretty certain he wouldn’t let her go around without an Alpha. They tend to stick together that way.

Clarke hangs her coat up by the door. She’s got on a grey turtleneck and thick tights underneath, since Bellamy doesn’t heat his house as well as she heats her own. She supposes he doesn’t feel the cold as much as she does. She slips her ankle boots off by the door before heading to the kitchen. First order of business is to make herself and Bellamy some coffee.

Except when she gets there, he’s already there, making it himself. Normally he’s already locked himself in his office by now.

Clarke freezes when she sees him, her breath catching. She forgets how good looking he is sometimes. And how big he is. His arms, his shoulders, his chest. His hands dwarf the coffee cup he’s holding. She tries not to think about how easily he could overpower her if he wanted to. How tiny she’d feel underneath him.

He frowns. “Clarke?” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“I figured you wouldn’t come in today. There are severe weather warnings. There’s supposed to be a blizzard.”

“Oh,” Clarke says. “I’m sure I’ll be gone by then.”

Bellamy doesn’t look satisfied with that. “You need to be more careful,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” His concern is touching.

“Sorry,” Clarke says.

Bellamy nods. His eyes linger on her chest for a moment, where her tight sweater clings to her breasts. He does that sometimes, which is perhaps why she’s taken to wearing tight clothes to work, or low cut if it’s warm enough. She glances down, noticing that a faint outline of her hard nipples is visible even through the thick fabric. Her skirt is pretty tight too, and short. It’s not something she’s doing on purpose, dressing up for him so he’ll look at her. But neither is she trying as hard as she should to fight the instinct that she needs to impress him, that she needs to look good for him. Her mother would be so ashamed of her. She’s ashamed of herself.

“I better get to work,” Bellamy says. He pulls out his business hours phone and hands it to her. “If anyone calls just take a message. Don’t answer if it’s Kane.”

“Because you’re behind on the novel?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I don’t want him talking to you.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a creep. Just don’t answer.”  

“Yes, sir.” The word slips off her tongue too easily. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and Bellamy doesn’t comment on it, but his eyes flash. He’s never asked her to call him anything but Bellamy, but it’s obvious he has no objections to being called sir. Probably comes from him being an Alpha. He’s used to being in charge.

Bellamy gives her another nod, then heads towards his office, coffee in hand. She catches his scent as he walks by, and she has to close her eyes for a moment. He smells so good. She wants him to rub his scent all over her. Wants him to sink his teeth into her neck and mark her. She has to reassure herself that she remembered to take her pills last night. She’s not supposed to be able to smell anything, least of all an Alpha’s scent. Which means his is either much stronger than the average Alpha, or she’s just particularly attuned to him. Neither of which are good for her.

But it’s totally fine. She can handle it. She’s been defying her DNA, her instincts, since she was fourteen years old. She’s not going to jeopardise her freedom just because some guy smells good.

She takes a deep breath, then gets to making herself a coffee. She stacks his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, tidying the kitchen, then moving on to the living room.

Bellamy actually keeps his house fairly neat himself, and she just does the occasional dusting or vacuuming. Not like the Alphas she’d been told about in school, that are complete animals, who only see Omegas as slaves to use for household chores, sex, and breeding. Although, being that Bellamy doesn’t know she is one, there is every chance he feels that way too and would start treating her completely differently if he found out.

She cleans until it’s time to make lunch, which is just sandwiches, as per usual, and he comes out into the kitchen to eat with her.

“Any calls?” he asks her as she puts his sandwiches in front of him.

“Kane once, and someone trying to get you to change electricity companies.” She sits down across from him.

“Did Kane leave a message?”

Clarke nods. “A long ranting one about how you never answer the phone when he calls and if you don’t send him the pages he asked for by tomorrow, he’s going to get someone else to write this book.”

“Typical,” Bellamy grins.

“How’s it going?”

“Better than he thinks. I just like to make him suffer.”

Clarke smiles, ducking her head. “You don’t like him much, do you?”

“I like him fine. Most of the time. When he’s not hassling me, or saying inappropriate things about my personal assistant.”

Clarke flushes. “He said something about me?”

Bellamy nods, studying her like he’s gauging her reaction. “What do you think of him?”

“He does… make me feel a little uncomfortable.” She’s only met him twice, but she’d be happy not to have to do so again. He never said anything inappropriate to her, but she didn’t like the way he looked at her.

“I’ll make sure you never have to be in the same room as him again.”

Clarke nods, then looks down to take a bite of her sandwich. Bellamy glances out the kitchen window. The snow is really coming down now, looking like just a sheet of white. The wind rattles the windows.

“I was going to send you to the dry cleaners this afternoon to pick up my clothes, but I think you’d better stay here. It’s not safe to be out in that.”

Clarke bites her lip nervously. He’s right, obviously. The blizzard has come on quicker than Clarke anticipated. She can only hope it will be over by the time five o’clock rolls around.

“What would you like me to do instead?”

Bellamy eyes her for a moment. “How do you feel about reading some of what I’m working on? I could use a perspective of someone that isn’t Kane.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. “I’d love to.” Bellamy nods, pleased, and Clarke feels warmth flood through her. Her stupid Omega reaction to his approval.

They make small talk as they eat the rest of their lunch, then Bellamy leads Clarke to his office. He hands her a hard copy of his novel so far, about fifty pages or so. Clarke settles herself into the armchair in the corner of his office while Bellamy continues working.

Clarke isn’t sure what she was expecting from his writing, but it wasn’t this. It’s a romance novel. It’s set in Ancient Rome, and from what she can tell it seems like he’s done a lot of research on the history of it, but the actual story itself is a romance. Are his other novels romance too? She’s never read one, but she’s seen the covers, and they just look like regular historical fiction.

He’s a really talented writer, obviously, and Clarke is hooked from the first word. It’s about a lonely Alpha who loses his Omega to an Emperor, and has to fight to win her back. There’s no actual sex in the first fifty pages, which Clarke is disappointed about, but it’s probably a good thing. Just the sexual tension between the main two lovers has her heart pounding and her cunt throbbing. Plus, she keeps catching Bellamy’s scent, only adding to her lust. A feeling she’s not supposed to have while she’s taking her pills. And yet, she can’t deny it. More and more she finds herself turned on when she’s around Bellamy. Is it possible she’s building up an immunity to the pills? Making them wear off faster, or causing their effects to weaken?

The thought makes her anxious. What if he can smell her arousal? She doesn’t flatter herself that he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he could, but even still, she can’t take that risk. She needs to get out of here.

She stands up abruptly, and Bellamy looks up from his computer.

“Done?” he asks.

Clarke nods. “It’s really good,” she tells him, setting the pages down on the desk. “But um—I should get going.”

Bellamy leans back in his chair, looking out the window. “I don’t think so, Clarke,” he says. “You shouldn’t be out in this. I don’t think it’s going to let up. And even if it does, the roads are going to be unusable until at least tomorrow.”

Clarke stares at him. “What are you saying?” she asks anxiously.

“I mean, it’s probably best if you stay here,” he says.

Clarke balks. “No,” she says. “I can’t. I have to get home.” That’s where her pills are. She has to take them every night before she goes to bed. She can’t afford to miss even one day. Once they wear off, her senses will be heightened and her scent will be exposed. He’ll be able to smell it on her, what she is, and she has no idea what his reaction will be.

Worse than that, if she doesn’t take her pills, within a few hours her heat will come on. She hasn’t had one since she was fourteen, and after six years of holding it off, she knows if she has to go through it, it will be unbearable. And to go through it here, in an Alpha’s house. Even if he doesn’t rape her when he finds out what she is, there’s no way an Alpha can resist an unclaimed Omega in heat. And there’s no way an Omega in heat can resist an Alpha who wants to knot her.

She really has to get out of here.

“Do you have a death wish or something?” Bellamy asks her. Clarke shakes her head. She wracks her brain for a suitable excuse for why she needs to go home, but nothing comes. Bellamy stands up and walks over to her. He doesn’t tower over her, but it’s not his height that makes him intimidating anyway. It’s the way he fills up the space with his body, his confident stance, the way he could easily overpower her if he wanted to, pin her down with his huge hands and have his way with her. The thought has her dripping.  

“If you’re worried about being an inconvenience, don’t. It’s really nothing. I have a couple of spare bedrooms you can choose from. I’ll even cook for you. It will be nice to have some company for once.”

Her instincts tell her she has to please him. He wants her to stay, and if she leaves, she’ll be disappointing him. It will cause her undue stress, she knows that. But even if she feels pathetic and guilty all night, it’s better than him finding out what she really is. Risking her life in a blizzard is better than him finding out.

“I really can’t stay,” Clarke whispers.

Bellamy frowns, and Clarke fights the urge to beg his forgiveness. “Clarke, if I let you leave, and something happens to you out there, I’ll never forgive myself. Stay here.”

He says those last two words firmly. A direct order from her Alpha. She can’t disobey. Well, technically she can. But it’s difficult for her to deny her instincts that much, to go against her Alpha’s express wishes. And fuck, now she’s gone and thought of him as her Alpha. Twice. A stupid slip up. He doesn’t belong to her, and she doesn’t belong to him. She doesn’t belong to anyone. And yet, she finds she has to obey him.

Not only that, but his protectiveness of her sends a thrill right through her. Another one of her stupid Omega traits rearing its head. Her feelings of helplessness, her need to be protected. Whatever else Alphas may be, they will always fiercely guard what is theirs.

“Yes, sir,” she whispers. Bellamy nods, pleased. Relief washes over her. God, she wishes her emotions didn’t depend so much on whether or not he’s happy with her.

“Why don’t you go and pick a room?” Bellamy suggests. “I still have some work to do but you can go and relax for a while. Consider yourself off duty.”

Clarke nods, and leaves his office without another word.

She picks the room furthest from his. Which is still not far enough away, if she’s actually planning on sleeping here. Anxiety pools in her stomach at the thought of it. She’s still hoping it will stop snowing and she can leave. Even if she has to walk home.

Meanwhile, she sits on the middle of the bed, staring out the window at the whiteness. Thankfully, this room has no trace of Bellamy’s scent that she can make out. He probably has no reason to come in here. It’s a comfortable room though, cosy, and the bed is lush with pillows and cushions. Clarke lies back against them, her head sinking into the softness.

She isn’t aware of falling asleep, but the next thing she knows she’s waking up to the sound of Bellamy knocking on the door.

“Come in,” she says. The door swings open and Bellamy steps into the room. His scent hits her, and her head spins. It takes everything she has to remain where she is, and not drop to her knees in front of him in an act of submission.

“How did you know which room I was in?” she manages to choke out.  

He shrugs. “Lucky guess. Dinner’s ready.”

“How long was I asleep for?”

“A few hours. It’s after six.”

Clarke nods. Bellamy waits for her to get up, then leads her downstairs and into the dining room, a room which usually goes unused while Clarke is there. They normally eat at the small table in the kitchen. Bellamy pulls a chair out for her at the head of the huge dining table, and Clarke sits down, feeling faint. Her heart is thrumming, her cunt pounding. Her panties are soaked. Her brain whirs with thoughts of Bellamy’s mouth, and hands, and cock. She’s blushing like a lovestruck teenager.

“Thanks,” she says weakly.

“I’ll be right back,” Bellamy says. He exits the room, towards the kitchen, and returns with two bowls filled with some kind of pasta. He places one of them in front of Clarke. “I hope you like seafood,” he says, and he almost sounds… nervous?

“I do, thanks,” Clarke says. Bellamy smiles. He surprises her by putting his bowl down next to her, and sitting at the chair to her left. She had been expecting him to go and sit at the other end of the table for some reason. His knee bumps against hers as he sits, and Clarke quickly jerks away. She can’t bear his touch right now. The smell of the pasta masks his scent a little, at least.

She picks up her fork and glances at Bellamy. She flushes when she realises he’s watching her.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Try it.”

“Are you going to watch me eat?” Clarke says, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. Bellamy laughs, ducking his head.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s the first time I’ve made this. I just want to know what you think.”

It’s odd, but Clarke can’t help but feel like he’s trying to impress her. And that if she doesn’t like what he’s made for her, he’s going to be—not crushed, exactly, but severely disappointed. Clarke twirls some pasta around her fork and puts it into her mouth. He’s pretending not to watch her, but Clarke can feel his eyes on her.

“It’s really good,” Clarke tells him. He practically beams. Clarke can feel her heart beating erratically. This is not good. This is so not good. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Clarke says.

Bellamy shrugs. “It’s in my nature,” he says. “To provide and take care of people, you know. And I don’t really get to do it.”

“But you’re an Alpha,” Clarke says. “Aren’t you supposed to find and Omega to take care of you?”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “In other ways, maybe,” he says. “But it’s an Alpha’s duty to see that his Omega gets everything she needs. But since I don’t have an Omega, you’ll have to do for now,” he grins.

Clarke is sure her face is bright red. “Are you looking for a mate?” she blurts out.

Bellamy looks vaguely surprised. “I—” he starts. “Not actively. But—I do want someone.”

Clarke’s mind is whirring, her heart racing. She’s unable to stop the images that flood her brain, of him claiming her as his, taking care of her, doing the things he claims Alphas are supposed to do. Her panties are wet with her slick. Surely he must be able to smell it on her. Part of her wants him to realise, then knot her right here, giving her no choice in the matter.

“Someone to protect and take care of,” Clarke says slowly, as if she still can’t quite believe it.

Bellamy frowns. “Why is that so surprising?”

Clarke shakes her head slowly. “At my school… they taught us Alphas just want control.”

“And what school was that?”

Oh, now she’s annoyed him. And given him information that could lead him to find out she’s not actually a Beta. No proper school would teach such blasphemy about Alphas.

Clarke swallows, squirming under his scrutinising gaze. “I was home-schooled,” she says quickly. “My mom taught me that.”

“She must have had a bad experience. What else did she tell you about Alphas?”

“They’re violent. And possessive.”

The corner of Bellamy’s mouth curls upward into an almost smile. “Violent, not necessarily. Possessive, yes.” The admission makes something twist in Clarke’s gut. Something telling her she wants him to be possessive of her.

She says nothing, dropping her eyes to her meal and continuing to eat, though she’s not sure how she manages it with her stomach churning like it is. He doesn’t seem offended when she only eats half of what he’s given her. He takes her half-finished meal to the kitchen, and she agrees when he suggests they watch a movie, even though she’s desperate to get away from him, if only because she’s afraid of how much she wants him right now.

She knows her other drugs will start wearing off soon too. At the moment her only plan is to keep Bellamy placated until she goes to bed, and then sneak out when he thinks she’s asleep.

Bellamy puts a movie on, and Clarke sits on the other end of the couch from him, as far away as possible. She’s brutally aware of him. Her eyes are glued to the screen, but she takes nothing in. His scent surrounds her, overwhelms her. Her body yearns to be close to his. All she can think of is crawls into his lap and having him wraps his arms around her.

She wishes he would turn the heating up. Her nipples are so hard they could cut glass, although that’s perhaps partly because of her arousal. She shivers.

“Are you cold?” Bellamy asks. Clarke nods. She thinks maybe he’ll turn up the heating for her, or get her a blanket. Instead, he holds out his arm. “Come here,” he says. “I run hot.”

She shouldn’t, because he smells too good, because she wants him too much. But she shuffles over to him and settles in against his side, her head on his chest. His arm squeezes her tightly. Too tight, almost, but she doesn’t complain. She breathes him in, closing her eyes, losing herself in the feeling of being safe in her Alpha’s arms. She’s never felt quite so at peace as this.

The feeling doesn’t last long though, as she remembers all the reasons she shouldn’t be enjoying this.

She makes it to just after eight, slowly losing her mind for the hour she’s curled up by his side. It’s now reached the time she normally takes her pills, and the snow hasn’t let up. She can’t be in Bellamy’s presence anymore. If she has to be near him any longer, she’ll do something stupid, like lick his neck.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” Clarke says, tentatively getting up off the couch. If he asks her to stay, she knows she will.

“So soon?” Bellamy responds, surprised. “It’s not even nine.”

“Early to bed, early to rise,” Clarke laughs nervously. Great, now she’s talking in clichés.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Okay,” Clarke squeaks. She gives him a nod, and then she hurries upstairs. She doesn’t have anything with her, obviously, like pyjamas, or a toothbrush. She makes do with swishing some toothpaste around her mouth with her finger. She keeps her clothes on and gets into bed. If she’s planning to sneak out, she doesn’t need to get undressed anyway.

She lies there for an hour, wide awake, his scent still all over her. She keeps the lamp beside the bed on. It flickers a few times, and Clarke wonders if the power will go out. Looking out the window, it seems as if the storm has only gotten worse.

Her heart races when she hears Bellamy’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He pauses outside her door, and she can hear her pulse pounding in her ears. She holds her breath. He pushes the door open, and she sits up.

He stares at her, jaw tight. “You’re an Omega,” he says, through gritted teeth.

“Bellamy—” Clarke whimpers. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

“I can smell you from halfway down the hallway,” he growls. Clarke’s cunt throbs. “I thought I was going fucking crazy,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Couldn’t figure out why—” he cuts himself off. “Never mind. Whatever you’re taking—it doesn’t work as well as you think it does.”

“You never said anything.”

“I convinced myself I was wrong.”

Clarke bites her lip. What now? Is he going to fuck her? His pupils are blown wide. His whole body is tense, as is her own. His scent has changed slightly—stronger now, more alluring. She wants to wrap herself in it. He could tell her to do anything right now and she’d do it. She wants him to. She wants to submit to him, like a good Omega. Wants him to tell her to take off her clothes and get on her knees. Wants him to mark her, hold her down and fuck her, give her his knot, her first Alpha cock.  

“I was going to offer you something to wear to bed,” Bellamy says coldly. “But you probably don’t want to be forced to wear my scent all night. I’ll leave you alone.”

Clarke says nothing. Her tongue is like lead. He’s angry with her, she can tell. Angry that she kept it from him, most likely. He’ll probably fire her in the morning. For now, he slams the door closed, and Clarke drops her head back to the pillow, burying her face in it. The lamp beside the bed flickers again, and then the room in plunged into darkness.

Bellamy’s scent lingers in the room, and somehow her sense of smell is heightened in the darkness. She wants to go to him, beg his forgiveness, make it up to him somehow.

It’s a pointless wish. He obviously doesn’t want her. He had no trouble resisting her scent, even now that the drugs have completely worn off. Why does that feel like the worst thing about this whole scenario? Not that he found out she’s an Omega, but that he found out and he still has no interest in her. She feels pathetic, and her body aches. Her head throbs in time with the pounding between her legs. Her skin itches, and she feels hot all over.

She throws back the covers, unable to take their stifling weight any longer. Her clothes stick to her skin, and she can feel herself sweating. Her clothes make her itch, and she wriggles out of her skirt and tights, then pulls her sweater off, leaving her in just her panties, hoping it will cool her down. Her breasts feel heavy, her nipples hard and sensitive. She rolls onto her stomach rubbing them against the sheets. Her pussy aches, and she’s practically gushing into her panties.

Fuck. She finally catches on. She’s going into heat. She has the brief thought of putting her clothes back on and getting out of here before Bellamy can realise. But it’s too late for that. Even without the snow, it’s way too dangerous for her to go out there alone now that she’s in heat. At least in here there’s only Bellamy, who has just shown her he has no interest in being her Alpha. In here she’s safe.

Clarke tries to lie still as the ache between her legs grows stronger. She feels so empty and pitiful. Abandoned by her Alpha when she needs him the most.

Soon she sheds her panties too, and slides her hand between her legs, cupping herself, pressing against her pussy, trying to dull the ache. She doesn’t want to masturbate, not with Bellamy just down the hall. She grabs one of the many cushions and wedges it between her legs. It doesn’t help. Her hips thrust against the pillow of their own accord, and she can’t seem to stop herself from humping it vigorously. She’s desperate. She can’t control her own actions. Her mind has turned to mush, and all that exists is her need.

She can feel the pillow getting soaked beneath her, and though her thrusts become faster, more desperate, it’s not enough. She throws the pillow away, groaning. She rolls onto her back again, and pushes two fingers into her cunt. She fingers herself until she’s a whimpering mess, and it’s still not enough. She needs him. She needs her Alpha. Needs him to come and take care of her like he’s supposed to. Fuck her good and hard, knot her, fill her with his come, make her pregnant with his baby.

She’s crying now, burning, aching, shivering, and her heat has only just started. She won’t get through days of this alone.

She doesn’t notice the door opening, but then his scent hits her, and she moans, long and low.

“Bellamy,” she whimpers. “Bellamy, please. I’m in heat—I need—I need—” she cuts herself off with a wretched sob.

“Shh, shh,” he says soothingly. “I know.” The bed dips with his weight as he sinks down beside her. She reaches for him, and then he’s on top of her, the heat of his bare chest pressed against her aching breasts, his knee between her legs. “You need your Alpha.”

“Yes.”

She wriggles down slightly so her cunt is pressed against his thigh. The contact of his hot skin against hers makes her gasp. She rocks against him, desperate for friction. Why isn’t he doing anything?

“Please,” she murmurs again, barely aware of what she’s saying. Her slick coats his thigh, and hers. “I need more. I need you inside me. Knot me, please. Fill me.”

“Have you ever been with an Alpha before?”

“No. Just you, I only want you. Nobody else knows what I am.”

“I want to make you mine,” Bellamy growls. “Wanted it since you first walked in the door, but I didn’t understand why until now. You were made for me. For my cock.”

Clarke whimpers.

“Say you’re mine,” Bellamy says.

“I’m yours.”

“You want me to mark you? Claim you?”

“Yes.”

“You understand what that means, don’t you? You will live here. Stop taking whatever pills you’re on. Nobody else will touch you. Only me, whenever I want. You’ll have my babies.”

“And you’ll take care of me.”

“Yes. Say you understand, Clarke.”

“I understand.”

She’d say anything if it meant he’d fuck her, end her torture. She does understand though, even through her delirium. Understands that she’s giving up everything she worked so hard to keep, her freedom, her rights. Understands that she doesn’t care about that at all, as long as she gets to have him.

He kisses her, capturing her lips with his mouth, and it’s the smallest taste of what’s to come. He doesn’t kiss her for long, and Clarke is glad of it. His mouth is intoxicating, only making her body more electrified, making her crave him more.

He kisses her neck, then licks her there, tasting her, breathing her in. She can feel his massive cock between her legs now, sliding between her folds as he coats himself in her arousal. She squirms, breathing heavy. Her skin is on fire as she grows more desperate by the second. She needs him inside her now.

She doesn’t know if she says it out loud, or if he just senses her need, but a moment later he thrusts inside her, hard, sucking her skin between her teeth at the same time, marking her. She cries out, a cry of pure pleasure. He fits her perfectly, fills her like she’s been aching to be filled, for longer than she even realised. He was right, this is what she was made for. Him, and his cock. Why has she been denying her nature for so long, when it feels like this?

He holds her down as he fucks her, making sure she knows her place is under him. Not that she wants to be anywhere else. She can feel his touch all over her, and yet it’s still not enough. She wants to beg him for more, but all that escapes her mouth are the whimpers and moans of a desperate woman.

With every thrust of his hips she feels herself growing tighter, hurtling towards a feeling she hasn’t experienced in years. When she’s close, right on the precipice, he stops. She whines in distress as his cock leaves her—just the tip remaining inside her pussy.

“You won’t come until my knot is inside you,” he tells her.

Clarke nods frantically, anything to have him back inside her. He gives her what she wants, ramming his cock back into her. She can feel his knot start to form now, growing inside her cunt, trapping his cock inside her.

“Look at how well you take my knot,” Bellamy says. “Just like you were meant to do. Come on now, come on my knot, good little Omega. I’m going to fill you with my come, just like you crave.”

He gives her a push, rocking against her, and that, along with his words, sends her over the edge. Her eyes roll back and she writhes against him as she comes on his thick knot. He comes with her, and she can feel him spurting into her, filling her up with his hot seed. The thought of it drags her into a second orgasm.

Her heat has ebbed now, her skin feels cooler, her desire sated, at least for now. She knows it probably won’t be long until she’s ready to go again. For now, Bellamy lies on top of her, his knot still inside her, making sure his come doesn’t leak out of her. She’s well aware she’s going to be pregnant by the end of her heat.

“You’re mine now,” Bellamy whispers.

“Uh huh,” Clarke agrees.

“Does that make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

She can feel his knot recede now, and he slips out of her. He slides down the bed and settles himself between her legs, then starts licking her slick from her thighs, cleaning her up with his tongue.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Clarke says, still feeling the sting of his annoyance at her earlier.

He looks up at her. “You don’t have to be sorry. I understand why you did it.”

“But you were mad at me.”

“I could never be mad at you. I was trying very hard to restrain myself, because I knew you didn’t want an Alpha.”

“But you came to me in the end anyway.”

“I could hear you calling for me. You needed me. I couldn’t not. I couldn’t fight my instincts or my desire that hard.”

Clarke bites her lip. She knows the feeling. He owns her now. The thought thrills her. As if to prove it further, Bellamy drops his lips to her inner thigh, and sucks a bruise there too.

“Do you need anything?” he asks her hoarsely. “Food? Water?”

“I’m thirsty,” she admits. “But I don’t want you to go.”

“It will only take a minute.”

Despair bubbles in her throat at the thought of him leaving her, even for a few minutes, and tears form in her eyes. She recognises that she’s being irrational, but she can’t seem to stop it. Bellamy is quick to pull her into his arms, kissing her all over face and her shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay,” he assures her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[roseelise]

The Weather // Dylan O’brien

Reposting all my writings from @r0s3mm, my main blog, it is not stolen or plagiarized. All my works on my masterlist are main unless stated otherwise.

Hello! Welcome to 2-h, the back up account of @r0s3mm, I’ll be posting my works on here too until (hopefully) my blog gets restored and if not this will become my main blog.

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x ofc!Alice

Word Count: 5129

Author’s note/warnings: break up? Swearing? Reader and Dylan talking about their relationship, a series of voicemail reader sends Dylan at different moments after their relationship ends.

Based off of the song: Lawrence - “The Weather”

Come say “Hi!” Wattpad

Masterlist

***********************

“Hey D’, it’s me, leaving you a message on your voicemail… again. Listen, I know we agreed to give each other space but I just wanted to let you know that your change of address probs didn’t go through because I got your new script at home- hum, at my place. I’ll just send it to Liz’s office… Oh, also I wanted to know if you wanted me to box up and send you the rest of the stuff you have here, there’s a few sweatshirts and other clothing items, as your mom would say. Okay, so you don’t have to call me back, you can text me, maybe even email me. I can leave your stuff at your mom’s house, I’m seeing Jules on the 23rd, so yeah … whatever you feel good with. Ok, bye.”

“I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together ‘Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”

I hung up the phone and placed it in my jeans’ back pocket and turned up the volume from the TV.

“A heatwave this week turned the city of Anaheim, home to Disneyland, into the hottest place in theUnited States. The Tick fire forced 50,000 people to flee their homes, many in the mid…” The weather man on the tv announced as I picked up the package with Liz’s name on it from a tv or movie set in LA, taking back my cell phone, I texted Liz, Dylan’s manager telling her I’d be sending her the script in the next few days, putting the block of pages on the bench next to the front door, I sat down next to it as the news kept playing as a background noise accompanied by the rain falling down harshly on the large windows.

It had been a little bit over 5 months and I still hadn’t tidy up from his big move, a lot of empty and piled up boxes were on the floor next to the sliding door, there were empty spaces on the wall and people who would be coming in the apartment could easily guess that the large white wall used to be full, filled with baseball jersey’s, many pictures, music record, stickers of liquor brand, some posters and a few music instruments.

“Hi Jules, it’s me, are we still on for the 23rd? Ok great then, I’ll pick you up. You got any news from your brother? Yeah, I know, I asked you to refuse if I asked but I just wanna make sure that with his new place he’s good and away from the fires and that he’s … that he’s safe y’know? Ok great then, just maybe tell him to- actually you know what? Never mind. I gotta go, but I’ll text you this week… alright bye!”

“There’s a fire in LA Since you moved there back in May I wonder, should I call to see if you’re alright? Yeah, you’re a million miles away But I still think of you each day And hope the weather doesn’t keep you cold tonight”

After picking up what was on the floor and actually tidying up the apartment, I put on my rain boots with my coat and an umbrella before going out the door with the trash and some things that I wanted to get rid of. I walked the streets of the city, listening to the chaotic sounds, the loud voices and the fast steps of those who wanted to escape the rain. Walking to the Blue Ribbon Brasserie, I turned left to get to Sullivan St and passed the convenience store and got myself a few stamps and envelopes for the thank you notes I still had to write after the home warming gifts I received a while back. I put my earphones in my ear as I gave the cashier the money and put everything in my purse. As I entered the restaurant, I took off my coat and held it tightly against me, my eyes falling on a couple sitting at the bar, both a drink in hand and completely enamored with each other.

“Table for one miss?” The host asks taking a menu.

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled at the young man.

I followed him to a table near the windows. He pulled my chair for me to sit. I smiled at him and thanked him.

“What would you like to start with?”

“Glass of white wine, if you have it. Actually no, I’ll get a G&T, please”

“Right away, ma’am” The waiter’s New Yorker accent came through and I smiled at him as I picked up the menu and swiftly looked through it, already knowing what I wanted to eat as soon as I had left my apartment.

The rain was still pattering against the window and it gave a nice ambient sound to the restaurant that for once was almost empty on a Monday afternoon. A few minutes later, the waiter came back with my drink, putting a squared napkin underneath.

“Would you like to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?”

“I’ll order now, thank you. So, I’ll get the chicken barley soup with the steak, please.”

He smiled, took the menu from my hands and left to another table. I watched the other waiters walk around with platters of food as people started to come in. Usually the restaurant would be busy from opening to the time it closed but today felt different. I held the glass in my hands as I sipped it slowly taking the wedge of lime off of it and biting into it and letting it drop on the piece of paper after draining it of its juice.

As the waiter approached my table and put my soup down my phone’s screen lit up with Dylan’s name and contact photo. I had taken the picture when we were out one day and waiting to cross the street. My finger swiped the screen to answer.

“Ali? Hey, it’s Dylan…” His voice rang through my ear, it was hoarse and dry. He had been smoking.

“Yeah, I know. Your contact info popped up.” I said, silently slurping my soup.

“Oh, wasn’t sure if you had gotten rid of it. Hum, I- I thought it’d be better to call you rather than text you and I don’t even know the last time I sent an email that wasn’t for work.” He chuckled quietly but didn’t hear a sound from the other side. “So, for my stuff you can keep it, I won’t really need it, but if you really wanna get rid of it, I can transfer you the money for the delivery and stuff. It-It’s however you want it.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll send it to you or Liz, I wanna start over with a clean slate. I also found a few caps of yours earlier when I was cleaning up, so I’ll send those over as well.” I said finishing the rest of my soup. It was silent on the other side of the line for a few seconds before I heard him sigh.

“A, maybe we should talk? Y’know, actually have a conversation. The only times we’ve talked in the past few months were through voicemail and-”

“Sounds good Dylan, just right now isn’t the right moment. I’m out at a restaurant and I don’t think I can actually do this right now and in public.” I said dryly my voice full of emotion. A waiter came to pick up the now empty bowl and I smiled up at him.

“Yeah okay. Is everything good up there? Are you feeling good?”

“Yep, I’m fine, we’re all fine.”

“That’s good. I feel a bit far away from everyone, y’know ?!”

“Yeah, are- are you okay? I’ve seen the news on the TV about the fires. I was worried.” I said the last part quietly.

“I’m fine too, yeah, you don’t have to worry. Pretty sure Jules or my mom would have rung you up if something had happened.”

“Yeah probably…” I whispered. “Did you start smoking again? Your voice sounded funny when I answered.” I said catching the eye of the waiter that was bringing me my steak. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, miss. Hope you’ll enjoy” The small exchange between the waiter and I was soon over, and I picked up a fry.

“Yeah, a little. It was weird being in LA, felt nervous at first and I couldn’t shake it after. Are you at Blue Ribbon?”

“You were nervous? Dyl’ you’ve been to LA a hundred times for filming and shit and yeah I am.” I said, picking at the veggies in my plate.

“I never actually lived there for more than four or five months, and usually I’m not alone.”

“Don’t.” I said loudly, I lifted my head and looked at other costumers. “Listen I gotta go.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to-”

I hung up and went to eat my dinner and finishing my drink quickly. After paying my bill, I put my coat back on, the weather would be a little chillier than earlier. Halloween was approaching and carved in pumpkins were starting to make an appearance on people’s doorstep and balconies. The rain from earlier had stopped and had been replaced by clouds and sun light.

“So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together 'Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”

Music was playing loudly in the apartment, the vacuum loud over it and it felt as if the sun had disappeared from the sky. Halloween was even closer now, only 8 days away. I checked the time, 10:37, Jules would be here in just under two hours. There were two boxes full of clothes, pictures, sports’ games tickets and damaged drumsticks, that I will have to leave in Jules’ car at the end of the day. The two of us had planned to get lunch and then hang out. She told me that some of our friends and her were planning a Halloween party and that they insisted that I come “You gotta get out of your hiding place, Alice!” They had screamed at me through the phone almost a month ago. Even if the weather wasn’t really great, Julia insisted we leave her car at my place and walk.

I had gotten ready slowly, music still blasting through the small speaker when it suddenly stopped. Thinking it was Julia texting me she had arrived I jogged to get to my phone in the other room, it was the other O’Brien child.

“Hello?” I answered the phone, putting it on speaker while I walked back to the bathroom to finish brushing my teeth. “Ali, are you busy? I tried calling you a couple times.” I looked at the screen where I had missed a few phone calls. “M’getting ready to spend the day with your sister actually. Can you make it quick?” I said spitting in the sink and rinsing my mouth. “I just wanted to know if right now would be a good time to have that conversation I talked about last week…?” I stopped and looked at my phone and sighed. “Your sister’s supposed to pick me up in ten minutes, think you can finish in ten minutes?” A silence was heard before light chuckling and I swear I could picture in my mind how he looked in that exact moment. “What?” “‘Nothing. Look, why don’t we try to set up a date and time for us to talk? I think it’d be good. Maybe clarify things up a bit.” “Yeah sure.” The doorbell buzzed, I sighed, picked up the phone putting it against my ear and taking it off speaker mode. “Listen Jules here and I’ve- wait a sec” I told him before shooting Julia a one letter text to tell her I was on my way and putting on my shoes and coat. “Ok, so your sister’s here. I gotta go but if you call me back tonight at around 5, your time I should be back home and mentally prepared to have that conversation you want us to have.” I locked my door and ran down the steps to stop in front of the blue car with my friend resting against it, excitedly waving at me, I walked to the car. “So, I really gotta leave now, but don’t think I’m excited about this. I’m doing this for you.” “I don’t want to make you do this if you’re not ready A’.” He says, guilt overflowing the other emotion in his voice. “It’s fine, I’ll talk to you tonight.” I hung up and put my head in my hand, scratching my hairline and walking the rest of the distance to Jules.

“So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together And it’s hard to say if we will ever be But I’ll admit my greatest fear is that The air will never clear So I just wish we could talk like you and me”

“Who was that?” Jules asked me as we started walking towards the larger and busier streets. “Damn you, O’Brien’s.” I mumbled as I pulled her into a greeting side hug. “Oh my god, was it Dylan? Are y’all talking again?” She was too excited for her own good. “Not really, I just wanted to know what he wanted me to do with the stuff of his left at the apartment and he started saying how we should talk about what happened.” “Yeah, I’m not still a hundred percent clear on that, by the way. I don’t think any of us expected you guys to break up after 4 years.” “Don’t remind me, please” I begged as I opened the door to the small café.

When we entered, I looked around for either an empty table or counter seats. I nudged Jules and pointed to a small table at the very back near the window and looked at her, watching for an answer.

“Sure.” She shrugged and took a newspaper off the stand we were standing next to.

We sat down and she opened the menu, looking through it as a woman brought us glasses of water.

“Hello ladies, how are you today?” “We’re good, Jane, thanks.” I asked sipping the iced water. “What about you?” Jules asked putting the cardboard menu down. “Oh, I am very good thank you” She said a huge grin on her face as she extended her left hand, on it a very beautiful diamond engagement ring. “You are fucking kidding me! Oh, my fuck!” Jules exclaimed jumping up and down. She and Jane were college friends, I had met her through Jules at a party a few years back. “Congratulations Jane!” I said leaning in for a hug and sitting back down.

Jane and Jules were standing up and talking in loud whispers as to not fully disturb the other customers. I picked up my cell phone and opened the messages app and clicked on Dylan’s conversation as a reflex before making the screen turn black and setting it back on the table.

“Hey Alice, I haven’t seen much of you in the past two months, but you and Dylan are so invited! Maybe you’ll be in my situation in a few months!” She said cheery, my head snapped up at the mention of my ex-boyfriend and I looked at Jules.

“What? What did I say?” Jane looked back and forth between us. “Y’know when I told you that my brother went to L.A to film a new project?” Jane nods, “Well it wasn’t fully true, yes he is filming something, but he also moved to L.A” Jane’s eyes go from Jules to me. “Dyl and I broke up 5 months ago …” I said picking my phone up again to play with something. Anxiety filling my body and making my fingers shake at the mention of the break-up.

The waitress just sits down next to me and pulls me to her and squeezes me telling me encouraging words before she is called back to the counter.

“The usual?” She asks and Jules and I nod with a smile. “I think we’ll take it to go, if you don’t mind.” Jules says as she finishes her glass of water, Jane’s eyes go over one last time before going to the kitchen.

When we leave the little café/diner we decide to walk through a park that’s nearby, eating our paninis and drinking our mango and strawberry smoothies.

“Hey,” Jules nudges me. “They added something to your bag…” I look at her a put my hand in the bag. “It’s a muffin?” Jules says unsure. “What?” My word stays stuck in my throat. “Pretty fucking sure Janey didn’t tell Henry that Dylan and I were broken up” “Henry? The cook?” I nod and put the muffin back in the paper bag. “Yeah, hum, when Henry started working there Dyl and I went there to get you a smoothie and Henry was there and he just started hitting on him and like he knew that we were together but I guess it was a running gag between them and whenever I went Henry would put a muffin in the bag for your brother with a note” I laugh remembering the memory. “Once,” I laugh stopping us from walking further. “Dylan went to pick up our order to bring back to his apartment, before we moved in, and he actually gave Henry his number … Anyway, yeah.”

Jules looks at me and pulls me to her side as I hold the bag tightly. “You miss him, huh?”. I put my head on her shoulder, “you’ve got no fucking idea”

We keep walking and talking, and I can see that she is trying really hard to change my ideas. We go into stores and try on stuff without buying anything, we just spend an afternoon hanging out and it feels so good.

At around seven thirty we part, and we walk back to my apartment, I put the boxes that I left in the lobby in her car and wave her off. Clutching the paper bag, I grab my keys from my coat’s pocket, unlock the main door before going to the building’s mailboxes, gathering my mail and going through the lobby’s door to wave to Sam, the receptionist, before going up the stairs since the elevator hasn’t been fixed in 4 months. As I get onto my floor, I wave at my neighbor who exits his apartment as he looks at my door. I turn the corner and see that my door is opened, fearing the worst I grab a baseball bat sitting near the door that my father forgot last weekend when he came over. I hear soft music coming from the record player sitting in the living room, the smell of ham and cheese stuffed chicken filled the place and for a moment I thought my mother had come to New York … I entered the kitchen with the bat lowered down knowing who was in my apartment from the humming they made.

“I made dinner” Dylan says turning around and leaning his back on the counter, he pushes himself off of the counter.

“I can see that.” I huff out not looking at him. “What are you doing here?” I ask him, putting my coat on the back of the chair and my purse on the table.

“I- I wanted to talk.” He says taking a step towards me.

“Yeah, I know I was about to call you … We said we would talk tonight, on the phone” He nods slowly and turns around to put food in two plates. He hands me one and gesture for me to sit.

“I’m not a fan of phones.”

“Yeah I know that, we could’ve facetimed or something.” I pick at my Brussel sprouts, usually loving the way he made them, but seeing here tonight caught me off guard.

I actually look at him for the first time tonight, he hasn’t changed that much, his hair is a little bit longer though, he is hungrily eating the food and nervously keeps his head down.

“What happened?” He suddenly says, his head lifting and eyes connecting with mine. I take in a short breath and can’t look away.

“What?” I shake my head and look down. I stand up and put as much distance between him and I as physically can while still being in the same room.

“What happened between us?”

“I can’t say that I honestly know. We weren’t on the same path; we didn’t want the same things … I don’t know” I mumble picking and my chewed-up nails, a habit I had taken up from him.

“Ok so why didn’t work, it’s not distance because god knows we’ve done that before, none of us were unfaithful” I grimace at the thought of him with another woman and look at him, he notices, and pain quickly passes behind his hazel eyes. “I- I don’t think, hope not, we’ve fallen out of love… So, what happened Al’?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say right now, showing up at my apartment at fucking 8 …” I say my voice low and full of emotions.

“We agreed to talk” He says standing up and talking another step closer.

“I agreed to talk to you on the phone because even if it’s been five months, I can’t look at you right now!” I say looking at the shirt he’s wearing

“Did you send my stuff yet?” He asks changing the subject and taking another step, now only at an arm’s length from me.

“I actually gave the boxes to Jules earlier. Left em’ in the lobby and gave them to her when she left.” He nods silently, turns around before starting to put away the food, knowing we probably would not be eating tonight. The domestic choreography started as we moved around each other with ease and habit, but I still tried to keep a distance between us. Without having to consult each other I bent down to a cupboard to grab a few Tupperware’s and set them on the counter as he passed me the now empty pots and pans ready to be rinsed off. While we were quietly washing the dishes, the music in the back changed, but still fit the ambiance perfectly. He walked to the furthest and lowest cupboard where the large serving plates used to be and opened it to now find the spices.

“You changed the plates?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Hum, yeah didn’t have much of a choice, I couldn’t reach the spices from where they were, and I don’t use the serving plates all that much.” I shrug as he picks up the utensils and dries them off. He walks around me to the drawer where they’ve always been and opens it slowly, his hand supporting underneath.

“Oh no, I got fixed, it’s fine”

“Oh okay… Did your dad came all the way from Oregon or did hum…?” He asks and I smile at what he’s really asking me.

“No, I actually asked Pat to come over a month ago, he repaired a few things here and there” I smile warmly at him and his expression that went from sad to relieved.

“You- you called my dad?” He asks as he turns around to look at me and rests against the counter.

“I mean, yeah, is that okay?” I ask him, giving him a pot to dry off.

“Of course, yeah, no- no worries, heh.” He chuckles. “I’m just happy you guys stayed in contact. They adore you, y’know, my parents. Almost like a second daughter.”

“Well that’s just wrong” I mumble quickly my eyes large, falling back into the familiarity that is Dylan.

“What why?” He asks

“That would make us “brother and sister”” I finish washing the last dish and hand it to him.

“Oh yeah, so wrong. So, fucking wrong” He says under his breath and I laugh a little as I help him put away the plates. I open a cupboard and look up to see that it is far beyond my reach and I make a noise that attracts his attention. “Oh wait, I’ll get it” He says before taking large strides towards me. I quickly move to the side and put the plate on the counter so that he can pick it up.

We finish putting everything away in silence and I go sit on the couch as he washes his hands. A few seconds later he joins me and sit on the other side of the couch. Tears pool at my eyes and I sniffle, I can feel his eyes on me, I hear him shift on the couch, so his front was towards me.

“No, I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together But I wonder if we’re ever really through 'Cause if we’re talking about whether You and I shouldn’t be together Oh, I know I’ll always be in love with you Oh yes, I know I’ll always be in love with you”

“It hurts so much” I whimper as I wipe away a tear that’s fallen on my cheek. “I don’t know what fucking happened. We didn’t get to talk, we-“

I freeze when I feel him starting to get closer to wipe away more tears that are now falling down my neck. I nuzzle my head into his large hand.

“I’m so sorry, for everything” He says his face in my hair.

“Don’t. It is not your fault. No, the situation was not ideal you having to leave for filming after the initial event, but it is not your fault. I think we just thought we were untouchable.” I say never facing him, my eyes fixed on the stickers stuck on the wooden table.

“But still, if I hadn’t talked about me moving back to L.A we could’ve talked and work things out.”

“Stop it.” I lick my lips attracting his eyes to the area as I turn to really look at him for the first time in months. “Dylan, it is not your fault, we had a weakness, we miscommunicated something got lost in what we told each other. I feel like I might’ve thought I was ready to leave the city to go to L.A but I wasn’t and maybe-“

“Say it again.” He suddenly says, cutting me off in my version of the events.

“What? Say what?”

“Say my name again, please.” His ton is full of hope and desperate at the same time.

I lock eyes with him and chuckle.

“Dylan” I enunciate each syllable.

“God. I missed you” He says, tears filling his eyes.

He grabs me by my waist and pulls me on his lap.

His face nuzzles itself in my neck and I feel a single tear rolling down my neck followed by a few soft kisses.

“I just got used to you not being there and knowing you wouldn’t come back. I didn’t like that.” I mumble against his temple. “Don’t say that. You know I’ll always come back to you.” He takes my hand in his and kiss the silver band around my pointer finger.

We part and I just stare at him, his eyes fall on me with the softest look I have ever seen.

“You almost didn’t come back once” I say softly thinking back on probably the hardest year of my life. My finger tracing the soft and ragged scar on his forehead and nose area, his eyes close at the sensation of my finger going around his face.

“I know. But baby I swear to you, you are stuck with me until the day I die, even then.” “Yeah okay, I’d be cool with that. But I want to take things slow. You have to go back to L.A for a few months.” “As soon as I’m finished over there I’m coming home.” He smiles at me and I stand up quickly from his lap and walk over where I put my stuff when I came in. “Oh my god I forgot.” I say quickly grabbing the object and walking back to him and plopping myself hard on his lap. “What’s that?” He looks at me with a smile. “It’s an impromptu welcome home gift, it might have gone stale a little though.” I give it to him and pull his face to kiss his moles that I missed oh so badly.

He opens the brown bag and puts his hand in and gets out a blueberry muffin.

“Oh Henry! My man” He says as he splits it in two and share half with me.

___________________________________

The morning after, I wake up at 9:45 in my bed, alone. I squeeze my eyes shut, not believing that I actually dreamt this whole thing. I check my phone to see if I have any messages and only one from Julia saying that she would be at my place around 11. As I text her to bring the boxes back I hear my bedroom door open and a smile stretches on my lips as I turn around to see Dylan walking in with freshly made hot cocoa and buttered toast.

“Oh, you’re too good to me, O’Brien” I smile and lean against him as he sits on the bed. “What makes you think that’s yours? You’ve got the good homemade bread and I fucking missed it” He says taking a bite.

Seeing him bite into the grilled piece of bread I only think of his lips.

“Dylan?” I say grabbing his face in my hand. “Hmm?” He swallows his piece of toast. “What’s up.” “You haven’t kissed me yet. I didn’t get to kiss you welcome back. Please, do it” I say in the most desperate tone I’ve ever heard myself talk. “Anything for you my love” He leans in and kiss me.

(ALSO HIS FUCKING TONGUE OMF)

[caps-lockdown]

Sweater Weather Part Six

Alright everyone here is the final part to this fic, it’s pretty short as I didn’t quite like how I was going to end it originally and re-wrote it to better accomplish a semi-decent ending. Enjoy!

Pairings: Steve Rogers x PottsRelativeFem!Reader

Ratings/Warnings: 18+ (Not smut but just to cover my ass)

For everything from language, crude jokes, ADULT situations/impure thoughts, booze (because it’s pretty much a staple in my fics at this point.), arguments, and an extremely overprotective Tony Stark. Very little angst, as I try to keep most of my fics light humored. But of course there are some insecurities/unsure feelings, as well as sad feels from everything with endgame/ the decimation. Also dead parents.

Also AU in the fact NO ONE DIED during Endgame/Steve didn’t go back. Also as much as I adore Morgan Stark, she isn’t around yet. I didn’t know where this would fit timeline wise, so just ignore the timeline. Kay? Cool.

Words: 2,844

Summary: You’ve just moved to New York after a long 3 year stint travelling the world and helping with various charities, taking a new job with Stark Industries thanks to your cousin Pepper. A trip out to surprise Tony and The Avengers for the weekend turns from good to terrible when the a/c at the compound breaks. How will you beat the heat for the record breaking weekend?

It’s in Y/N Y/L/N format, any pictures, outfits, gifs, and marvel characters just assume I don’t own them. Also no Beta, as I don’t ever have one, so the mistakes and reader are all my own. Enjoy!

Part Six

When Pepper put two and two together about you and your Captain’s whereabouts she promptly sent you a text saying she would get Peter and Carol to help make dinner so you wouldn’t have to. You had quickly sent back a “Thank you!” before sneaking off with Steve to the showers to clean up, as well as have round four (and five) of the mattress mambo. Without the mattress. You were learning very quickly that super serum had plenty of upsides, and you were a fan of all of them.

You were snuggled into the very same satisfied Captain watching videos of your adventures over the past three years on your phone when a very obnoxious Sam and Bucky all but kicked in your door.

“Stop playing tickle-tail and come get some food!” Bucky held his hand over his and Sam’s eyes as they entered, and you were more than happy that Steve had talked you into putting on clothes.

“Yea! Stop playing Doctor!” Sam cut in, you reaching behind you to throw a well aimed pillow at them.

“Guys we have clothes on.” Your response was met with nervous chuckling as Bucky removed his hand, finding the two of you cuddling together quite a cute sight. You unwillingly untangled yourself from your blonde beau’s strong arms and stretched, standing from your bed and looking at the two friends. “Well? Lead the way!” You noticed their slightly wide eyes and faltered your steps. “What?”

“You might want to put on a sweater first Y/N.” Sam said pointedly, trying to avoid eye contact with some of the fresh marks Steve had left on your neck and shoulders. Your hands shot out to run across your skin, as if you could see them with your fingertips.

“How bad is it?!” You exclaimed, rushing to turn on your phone’s camera to get a better look.

“Looks like you lost a war with a vacuum cleaner.” Bucky shrugged, your face burning with the intensity of the sun as you zoomed in on your irritated skin, some of the marks already turning a dark purple shade. There weren’t that many, but the one on your neck was looking very prominent. You squeaked in anger, pushing your attacker hard in the chest as he went to stand, the action catching him unaware and sending him back on the bed with a loud thump.

“What the hell Rogers!? I told you no marks on my neck! I’m going to have to wear a scarf in the middle of August at my first day of work tomorrow!” Steve looked down at the ground embarrassed as he stood up again, Sam and Bucky snickering in the background.

“Sorry Doll, I got carried away…” He tried, smiling at you and forcing your resolve to melt upon contact. “You’re too delicious, I was weak…”

“Alright, we’re out of here.” Bucky made a face, stopping your boyfriend from finishing his statement. “Throw some ice on it for a few and cover it with some concealer and powder. We’ll get Pepper to light some candles and dim the lights so Captain not so successful Cockblock doesn’t see em.”

You quirked a brow at Bucky’s instructions, crossing arms over your chest. “And just how do you know these tricks Barnes?”

“Nat.” Was all the brunette said with a wink, dragging a rightly puzzled Wilson out of the room. You shook your head as the new information sunk in, walking over to the cooler and pulling out some ice to hold on your neck, not missing Steve’s darkening eyes as he stepped towards you.

“Ooooh no, don’t look at me like that. You need to get out of here and into the dining room before Tony comes looking for us.” You jokingly pushed him as he looped his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, pulling you to him as he ghosted your tank top clad shoulders with his lips.

“Can’t help it, that ice cube gave me ideas…” He chuckled darkly as you shivered, squirming out of his grasp and mock glaring at him.

“Later.” You hissed, again pushing him away before going to your dufflel bag and searching for a tee shirt to cover your other marks. You sighed in frustration as you were forced to throw on the only one you had left, realizing it was black and as such would no doubt be hot as hell to eat in. But at least you would be packing up and leaving the compound after dinner. You couldn’t wait to blast the a/c  in your truck the whole way home.

While expertly covering up the mark on your neck you heard the rumble of the Quinjet, figuring everyone had gotten sick of no cool air inside the compound and elected to have dinner in the large aircraft. Not that you could blame them, your jury rigged coolers could only do so much. After you looked presentable, making sure the discoloration wasn’t as noticeable as before, you and Steve walked hand in hand to the dining room, both of you stopping in shock at the elegant dinner sitting in front of you. Candles were lit and not a soul was around, only two place settings, a bottle of wine in a small bucket on the side, and the smell of food overwhelming your senses. You picked up the small note on the corner, admiring the perfect cursive. Pepper

“Tony wanted take out to avoid looking at you two. He mentioned getting noise cancelling headphones for everyone as a Christmas gift. Enjoy your dinner, we took the jet but we’ll be back in a bit.

P.S Don’t eat at the table naked, I haven’t scotch guarded the chairs yet. ”

Your laughter rang out as you passed the note to Steve, who smiled and rolled his eyes, pulling your chair out for you so the two of you could eat. Your mouth was watering at the roast she had made, wasting no time with loading your plate up.

“You hungry?” Blue eyes mused when you passed him the salad bowl, your own eyes sparkling back as you spared him a glance before promptly stuffing your face.

“Yea. I blame you and the earlier extracurricular activities.” Your muffled retort had Steve snorting into his wine glass, his eyes never leaving yours, his large hand once again finding your bare thigh. You ate in a comfortable silence after that, enjoying being alone together without the knowing stares from your friends. And Tony. The amazing food was proving to be a great distraction from Steve’s wandering hand.

After travelling the world for three years you had missed Pepper’s cooking something fierce, and you were certain you were going to put on some weight moving back here. But you were also certain Steve would be keeping you in shape. He wouldn’t hear a single complaint from you. The gang returned to the compound not too long after you had eaten so much you felt like you could burst, the two of you cleaning up the remains of dinner and washing dishes before heading back to your room.

“You two decent?” Natasha called from your doorway, Steve helping you pack up your belongings and carrying your large cooler to his room, although he wouldn’t be sleeping there tonight.

“We aren’t heathens Nat, Jesus.” You huffed out in annoyance as she smirked.

“I see you’ve packed up, headed out soon?”

You nodded at the red head, throwing the duffel over your shoulder with little effort. “Yea, I gotta get some actual sleep before I start my new job tomorrow.”

“Pepper told me you’d be working at the new Tower,” You widened your eyes at her “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell Tony or anyone else. I was sworn to secrecy.” She patted your shoulder in reassurance. Her eyes darted between you and Steve as he reentered the hallway from his own room with his own overnight bag, her expression blank. “Thought you said you needed sleep tonight?”

She laughed while deftly dodging your open palm, you barely grazing her arm in frustration. “You lot ever going to let us live this down?”

“Probably not, and it’s only going to get worse when Tony’s not around. We all promised to give him time to adjust before we start gossiping about you two.”

“Oh great. Thanks.” You huffed again, grabbing Steve’s hand and heading down the hallway to say goodbye to everyone. The group stood outside, crowded around your truck to see you off.

“Lemme know how your first day goes Short Stack.” Tony smiled warmly at you, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “Happy looks good on you kiddo.” You beamed back at him as you broke apart, shaking Bruce’s hand next.

“Stay cool Jolly Green.” He chuckled at you and moved aside so Thor could properly hug you goodbye. You had to force yourself to remain calm, holding back your emotions and reminding yourself you’d be seeing all of them a lot. And soon. This wasn’t goodbye. Nat and Sam both side hugged you, Carol shaking your hand. “You’re a total bad ass, I hope we can see each other more in the future.”

“Count on it Y/N.” The blonde powerhouse smirked in return, the hyper teen next in line bouncing on his feet as you made your way to him.

“Nice meeting you Peter.” You laughed as he all but launched himself at you, you fondly patting the teen’s back as he embraced you.

“You too Miss Y/N. Hopefully I see you around more!”

“You will don’t worry.” You smiled in affirmation, Bucky moving to stand in front of you. His large frame engulfed your body easily, you stiffening slightly while you recalled Steve’s words about him not being a huge hugger. “You feeling ok Barnes?”

“I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time Y/N. That being said I shouldn’t have to tell you what will happen if you break his heart.” You swallowed hard and nodded your head, his smile getting wider as he pulled away. “That goes for him too, I’m rooting for you guys.”

“Well if my best friend is done with the death threats, Y/N and I have places to be.” Steve stared at Bucky pointedly, who only shrugged and opened the truck door for you.

“Wait, where’s Pepper?” You called, your cousin nowhere in sight.

“She said to go on without her, the take out isn’t agreeing with her.” Tony waved you on, you deciding you didn’t want to wait around for her in that state. She was not quiet when she fell ill, and you could feel your face turning green at the memory of hearing her drunken retching during your partying phase. You happily jumped in your truck and promptly started the engine, making sure the air conditioning was on full blast as soon as you shut the door. Steve climbed in next to you, waving out the window to your friends as you pulled out of the parking lot, leaving the sticky compound behind you in a cloud of dust.

~~~Next Day~~~

“I’m telling you Pep you should really look into hiring a new Receptionist now that this place is back in business.” Tony took off his sunglasses as he entered the newly built Stark Tower, his eyes blinking to adjust after the assault of photographers demanded photographic evidence of the opening ceremony.

His wife only smiled knowingly as they neared the front desk after her husband checked in with security for the day. She nodded at you, you taking the cue and sliding a large paper cup across the top of the reception counter.

“Good morning Mister Stark, here’s your black coffee and paper. You have an appointment with a Mister Fury at noon, followed by a press conference at two.”

You’d remember Tony’s shocked face for the rest of your days.

“You gotta stop trying to kill me Short Stack!” He wheezed, clutching his chest and taking the small cup with a grin. “My old ass can only take so fucking much.”

“Sir that language is highly inappropriate. Don’t make me go to human resources on our first day of business.” Your threat had no actual substance and your cousin in law saw right through you, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Joke’s on you Y/N, She’s on vacation until September.” You snorted, your two family members taking their leave and heading towards the elevators. The rest of the team followed in after, quickly noticing your new position and cheering with excitement.

Steve’s wide smile as his blue eyes met your gaze made your heart stop.

“Ya know, when you said you wouldn’t be far this morning I thought you were just being cute.” He mused, you smirking into your coffee cup as he brought his lips down to kiss your cheek. “Have lunch with me today?”

“Just go ahead and assume my answer is “Yes” to everything you ask from here on out.” You quipped, tossing him a wink before reaching to answer the phone. “Thank you for calling Stark Industries this is Y/N, how may I direct your call?”

“Oooh, your phone voice is sexy Sweetheart.” You swatted his arm and sent him away, rolling your eyes at his wiggling eyebrows as he walked backwards all the way to the elevators, forcing you to hold in your giggles while you remained on the phone. Lovesick idiot.

You day continued to pass by in a blur, and before you had time to make heads from tails with the computer system it was already lunch time.

“Let’s go Short stack, Kay’s is calling us.” You brought your head up from behind the desk, Pepper holding a small delicately wrapped box in her hands as she kept in step with your cousin in law. “Lunch is on me today. As a hashtag welcome to the team I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you brat peace offering.”

You shook your head with a smile, a certain tall blonde coming up behind them to sweep you away. “Sorry Snark,” Grasping Steve’s hand you allowed him to lead you out from behind the long desk, memorizing the way your cousin in law feigned being hurt.  “I have a prior engagement.”

“Well fine. Ya know I saw her first Cap. I don’t do well with being second place.” He huffed.

“Don’t worry Tony, you’ll always be my number one pain in the ass.” You beamed, the man barking out a laugh.

“Before you go I wanted you to be here while Tony opens his opening day gift from me!” Pepper spoke nervously, handing the box to her husband who only looked at her suspiciously.

“Every day you don’t murder me is a gift from you darling.” He joked, untying the ribbon with ease, the lid falling off the top with a certain childish carelessness that made everyone around you laugh. “Uh honey…”

“Yes sweetie?” Her tone had a sense of insecurity and you were a bit thrown off by her sudden mood swing.

“Make sure my dress doesn’t go over my head.” Was all the dark haired man got out before promptly passing out, Steve acting quick to catch your out cold cousin before he severely injured himself on the hard floor. Your eyes moved to find the three objects that had fallen out of the box, gasping alongside Natasha and Bruce as they bent to pick them up.

“Pepper, you’re pregnant!?” You breathed out, your cousin giving a shy smile and nodding.

“My first appointment is tomorrow, will you come with me?” Tears of happiness stung your eyes as you enthusiastically nodded, rushing to hug her.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss making fun of Tony being a dad for anything in the world!” She cried in your arms back, the two of you holding onto each other for a long moment as the Avengers and some random people started to clap for her. “Congratulations, you’re gonna be an amazing mom!” 

“I hope so Y/N.” Pepper smiled behind more tears, breaking from the hug and giving you a light nudge. “Now go have lunch with your man, we’ll talk after work.”

Steve left Tony in Thor’s confused arms and reached for your hand, smiling the whole way out of the tower. “Some weather we’re having huh?” He scrunched his nose up at the clouds, the sky looking a menacing shade of gray.

You shrugged in indifference, “I’ll take the rain over a heat wave any day.”

“It’s always a heat wave when I’m with you Sweetheart.”

A deadpanned expression crossed your features as you stopped in your tracks to look up at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute. That was so fucking corny Rogers.”

“Yea, but you love me anyway.” You raised an eyebrow at his cocky assumption.

“Eh, I blame the heat wave” A growl came out from his throat and you yelped, jumping just out of his grasp and running down the street, the two of you laughing the whole way to your favorite diner.

The end

Tag List: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more @chrisevansfanfic @yesno18 @zsuzstyina @zombiepotterfour @evanstush

[likeshipsonthesea]

15 - 25 - 30 Nurseydex for the sensory prompt.

hey okay so this is approximately a million years late and i didn’t even fill it right, but i wrote this part like a week after i got this prompt and i’ve been stalled on writing the other bits, so I’ve decided to just post as-is because i like what i’ve written and it kind of fulfills the prompt so here we go

i’ve only done one of the prompts, from this sensory prompt list, and it’s 25. The smell of ozone during a storm. it’s not nurseydex, more nursey-centric and emotional things, but i think y’all will like it. 

it was originally supposed to be like a 5+1 fic but with 3 parts and no change, but now i guess it’s just The First Time Nursey Felt at Home. enjoy :)

        Theday it first happens, Nursey wakes up late to a screaming alarm and a headachehe can’t explain. Due to the lateness, he then has to sprint across campus tohis comp lit class, only to find out once he gets there that the prof is visiblyhungover showing a movie from the supplemental materials list thatNursey—the little overachiever that he is—already watched.

         That wake up seemsto set the tone for the subsequent day. The new barista at Annie’s makes hiscoffee weirdly and he guiltily drops it in the trash after only a few sips, thewrongness making his tongue all fuzzy. He pops a couple Advil to null theheadache, but the pain just spreads to his hands in this dizzy swirl he can’tshake. Knowing that his second class of the day won’t be happening—facultyconference– he decides to take advantage of the warm spring weather, try tocheer himself up a bit, and spread out on the Quad with a book and some tunes.

         It helps, at leastfor a little while. With his headphones in, he doesn’t hear the rumblingthunder, and the shadowing sky goes unnoticed as his focus tangles intenselyaround the novel in his hands. The only apparent clue is his itching nose,which he swipes at between pages, distracted. The cloying cleanness steadilyburns, the sensation building and building until it concentrates the pain inhis head into a line above his eyebrows, and finally, he pulls his eyes fromhis book long enough to take stock of the situation. But it is already toolate.

         Between one breathand the next, the sky unzips. Deserted, now, on the Quad, as everyone else heededthe warnings before, Nursey drowns beneath the onslaught. His paperback bookbleeds, the shuddering air muffling the sound from his headphones. His clothesslap, cold and clinging, against his skin as he hurries to find cover. Thegrowing puddles soak his socks as he sprints beneath the raindrops in thedirection of the Haus, closer than his dorm room is and the first place hethinks of to run.

         Gasping, chestheaving like a panic attack so much so that his brain begins to think it isone, Nursey tumbles through the front door of the Haus and trips, collapsing ina wet, shivering heap on the floor of the entryway.

         “Dude.” Holster’sdeep, rumbling voice makes Nursey shudder, suddenly—strangely—warm. “I would not get that close to the floor if Iwere you.”

         “Yeah, man.” Theaccompaniment of Ransom’s voice is expected, anticipated. Nursey didn’t thinkhe’d been here long enough to recognize these kinds of patterns, let aloneglean comfort from them, as the softening of his racing heartbeat seems tosuggest. “Who knows the last time it saw the business end of a mop?”

         Even with his cheekpressed into the splintering floorboard, vision obscured, Nursey can pictureHolster’s sage, slow nod. “Bits tried to vacuum it once and the vacuum broke.”

         “Nah, bro,” andNursey can see the shaking-head, eyes-wide expression on Ransom’s face, “Ithink it was a mop and it just, like, disintegrated when it touched the wood.”

         Scrunched-eyes,wrinkled brow, evident in the uptick in the beginning of the sentence— “Are yousure it wasn’t a broom and it like legit burst into flames?”

         Pursed lips, in thesolidity of the no— “No, that was that other thing.”

         Lips in an ‘o’,slow lean back, elongated like the sound— “Ohhh, yeah.”

         Nursey’s shouldersbegin to shake again, this time with a manic, unfathomable laughter thatshutters around his chest like a butterfly on speed or a handful of pop-rockswho just quit their job and have nothing to lose. It’s—god, it’s ridiculous. He’s lying on the floor of a frat house,probably getting splinters in his nose, wet hair collapsed against hisforehead, every inch of his skin chilled with rainwater, his book ruined, hisday shit and—

         And fuck if he isn’tridiculously, uncontrollably happy in this moment.

         Bitty stumbles intothe room, then, from the kitchen, and instantly begins fretting in that softSouthern way of his, pushing Nursey towards the bathroom to “wring some of thatrain out ‘a your bones!” He returns, a minute later, with all the fluffy towelshe could presumably find, foisting them on Nursey with mutterings that, “I’mgonna go start you a pie, hun,” and “these weather apps get worse and worseevery day,” and when he finally leaves Nursey alone in the bathroom, arms fullof towels and a raindrop itching down the bridge of his nose, Nursey stares inthe mirror and sees he’s still grinning, unrestrained.

         Fuck, he thinks, a bit dumbstruck, I’m home.

*~*~*

         Dizzy, half fromthe cold, half from the revelation, Nursey strips his soaked clothes from hisskin and turns on the shower, handle pushed all the way to hot it can go. Hesways, bare, freezing in the drafty room, and marvels at the warm, settledemotion in his chest.

         The mostdisorienting thing is that it is such a wholly unfamiliar concept. To feelsettled. To feel home. All his life, it’s been—tricky, untamable. At theleast, beyond his ability to put into words.

         It isn’t that hehasn’t had a home before. The brownstone in New York, where his parentslive, where he lived for the first fourteen years of his life, it was a home,sort of. Home in the sense of comfort, home in the sense that Dad was there inthe kitchen with warm, spicy foods, Mama there to shove books in his hands andtake listen to him tell her what his favorite parts were when he finished, Momthere to hug him close and soothe the ache of the outside worlds—real andfictional—and keep him from having to deal with it, at least for a while. Thebrownstone—his parents—were home in the sense of a respite. There, he wasprotected, but he also wasn’t really him. It’s hard to be a person,Nursey thinks, when no one wants to worry you with the question of who you are.

         The heat from thesteaming shower starts to fog up the mirror. Nursey shakes his head and turns,steps inside the tub. Cold feet press against warm tile. His whole body sighsas he sways towards the water, only to tighten up in expletives as the burningwater scalds his softened skin.

         A lurking burnmuffled by the promise of comfort is a good way to characterize Andover, Nurseythinks, as he pushes the handle back towards cold. If Andover was a sort ofhome, it would only be so in the way a word can be used ironically, tohighlight a difference. To make a point.

         It was not theplace where he was asked who he was. It was the place where he was toldwhatever he was was not good enough and given the tools to become better. Hewas not him; he was not anyone’s. At Andover, his life was not his own,the same way his seat would become another anxious freshman’s, the same way hissuccesses would give way to another’s. At Andover, Nursey was erasable when hewas perfect, and disposable when anything less. If Andover was a home, Nurseywas the furniture—there to perform a function and never question why.

         Nursey stills histwitching fingers and plucks a body wash—probably Bitty’s—from the showercaddy, squirting some into his palm to give his hands something to do. Thatpart of him, the anxious part—the part that twitched fingers and tapped toesand had his chest restricting at the strangest moments like his heart forgothow to breathe, or stopped wanting to—if any part of Nursey can call Andoverhome, it is the anxious part. Andover was the warm, welcoming environment for abacterium—a virus—like anxiety to grow. The cracks left in his loved, smotheredheart—ignored simply because he’d never had to notice them, before—split widerunder the strain of perfection. They stretched and yawned and opened theirmouths to consume until the empty spaces outgrew the solid ones and Nursey’sbrittle body snapped, easily, quietly, as if by design. And even then, he wastold to keep going. Keep trying. If he ever wanted to be anything more than apile of pieces, he would get up and do it all again. And oh how he wanted, ohhow he was taught to want, how he learned to love the approval onlybought with bits of bloodied bone. This is success, Nursey remembersthinking, the day he got his acceptance letter, this makes it all worth it.

         Nursey’s stillshaking hands spread the bubbled lather over his own shoulders, down hisbiceps, cup his elbows. He takes a deep breath and it smells like—Bitty. Liketeam breakfasts at the Haus kitchen table, Bitty’s drawling morning voice andHolster’s booming laughter and way too much of Shitty’s blindingly pale skin ondisplay, pancakes piled high and dripping in “the real maple syrup,” andJack smiling—infrequent but earth-shatteringly easy to earn approval—andChowder beaming—much easier to earn approval—and even Poindexter,ducking his head to hide a smirk—the strangest, most rewarding kind of approvalNursey didn’t even know he needed.

Swallowing, tight, Nursey laughsunder the spray of the showerhead, sardonic but also—sweet. He was right theday he got his acceptance letter. Samwell did make it all worth it, butnot in the way Andover had convinced him it was. Samwell is not the grandeur ofAndover. It is not the prestige, not the mark of better, he was told itwould be. The classes are hard, and interesting, and getting a degree from thisinstitution will definitely make his life easier later on, but Samwell is notits reputation, not the old brick buildings and 12.4% acceptance rate.

         Samwell is acrooked frat house, filthy to the point of horror and probably more flammablethan science thinks possible. It is the coziness of a gross green couch,squished between two thick, sweaty teenage boys yelling at a hockey gameinvolving two teams they don’t even like. It is a kitchen, cracked and ancient,full of the smell of flaking pastry dough and filled with the sound ofsatisfied bellies.

Samwell, at least for Nursey, isthe Haus. It is the first place he thinks to run, whether he’s escaping a flockof geese or a torrential downpour or just simply a bad day. Here, he issafe—safe to worry, safe to wonder. Safe to figure out who he is, because thepeople around him will accept—and question—any outcome, not to make sure he isthe best, but to make sure he is happy with the answer.

As the sputtering, vaguely warmwater of the guest bathroom shower fizzles across his back, Nursey closes hiseyes and smiles. This is the kind of moment literary people delight in, hethinks. The moment when a word and a definition coalesce, when you understandit well enough to use it yourself, when the language, insufficient and finickyas it can be, finally expresses the incomprehensible mess wriggling around inyour chest in a way that seems… right.

         The Haus—the peopleit contains—is home.

         Wow, Nursey thinks, with a damp laugh. Who could’ve seen that coming?

[finderskeepersff]

63. Part 6

Eating my cereal in silence, you know what being sober is a blessing and also I get to see every one else just fall off which is fun. I left early though, went to bed so only god knows who made it back and I don’t think Jasmine came back, her bag is in my room and not moved and she isn’t anywhere here. I should call her to find out and after that groupie story I won’t be shocked if she isn’t at some rappers home again, she is crazy. The fact she isn’t scared, when I was serving bottles I was scared walking to VIP because they was awful, they always thought they owned my ass which was never that. I always got asked to be the main girl to go so they could touch my ass and try and get me back home, never happened but it was scary “morning” looking behind me and at Olivia, she is alive and well “morning” I am shocked she is able to walk with the amount of dick she’s had since being here “is there some left?” she pointed at my cereal “uh yeah there is, there is plenty left. I am glad that today is the last day” I mentioned, it’s been nice to see them but I am ready to go the fuck back home, it’s a late flight back too so I got time left “I just want to say sorry” Olivia said, I rolled my eyes “I am shocked you are sober actually, but it’s fine” what can I say, she does this all of the time. I say I am damaged but she is worse, she acts out every time “it’s not fine, I am stupid. I just get angry, I can’t help but get bored” this is going to be a conversation now “come and talk to me” I said to her, she is sitting anyways “bored of what? You and Kenton have been together for years, what do you mean bored?” is this bitch stupid “that is it, we have been together for years. It’s like we are programmed to do the same shit every day and then he is” she paused “he is shit in the bedroom, it’s just not there anymore and I don’t want to say it to him, the spark ain’t there but I love him” well that is a situation “you love him but the spark is gone, then maybe Olivia. You need to be truthful, say to him you both need a break. Have a break and miss each other, I mean you both have been together for so long so if things are always the same it can be boring, I get it” Olivia sighed out “I don’t want to be this way” I have heard this before “then change Olivia, maybe you need to just be truthful and you both have a break from each other” they need it, they are both a damn mess right now.

Taking my phone off charge, I can’t stop peeing but I needed to get my phone from upstairs anyways. Closing the door behind me as I made way way back down, I am glad it is a late flight I don’t need to pack till later “Kenton get off her!” my eyes widened hearing that name, I ran down the steps a little quicker seeing Kenton hand gripped around Olivia’ neck, he repeatedly slammed her back onto the wall as she tried to claw his face, am I in a dream “Kenton! Fucking get off her!” Mia hit him, I am not going to go near that I just watched on “get off her!” Amira came up from behind him and hit his head with a pan, I cringed hearing that as he fell back “oh shit” Mia looked down at Kenton on the floor “he is alive” trust Amira to know that “he is fine, oh my god. Are you ok Olivia?” she slid down the wall, I am in shock seeing this. Like this actually happened, Amira closed the front door “he hates me” Olivia sobbed out, of course he does. I made my way down the rest of the steps “wow” I said, I mean what the fuck else do I say because this is terrible “you did tell him to beat your ass” I added “but I didn’t mean it!” she shouted “I am glad you didn’t get involved, he will be fine. Let’s just go into the living room” I am surprised Amira didn’t shoot him, but she wasn’t scared at all which reminds me of Jasmine.

Olivia’ neck is so bruised, I feel bad for her now “I couldn’t breathe at all, I thought I was dying” Olivia rubbed her neck “well you’re ok” I am bring so cold with her, let me stop “whatever Sofia, you know what. I am the Ivy of the group, I get it. I am going!” Olivia is being dramatic “let her go” I said as she walked off, Kenton may finish off the job “Sofia, can we talk” Mia got up from the couch, another talk “I am proud of you” I said to Amira as I got up laughing, so much drama and not only that we have Kenton on the floor knocked out cold so if anyone comes here we will look crazy. Following Mia outside, I can do with this kind of weather every day, it’s just so nice “it’s a mess isn’t it?” Mia said as she turned to me “it is but that doesn’t make memories I guess?” I laughed “you right” she sighed out “I just want to say sorry, I said things I shouldn’t have. I just felt like you was just thinking of what Cassius wanted all of the time, I shouldn’t pry I guess. Things have moved on so much with all of us, we are all on different parts of our lives, not only that. It makes us all see how many years we have wasted not even doing anything. I mean you have done everything within a few years, to see you be the person you are now Sofia I am so happy for you and I don’t want us to fall out, I don’t want us to be distant and have this wall between us, I love you” she apologised I guess “I think it’s one of those things where my life was an open book, but I had to shut that book. Being with Cassius, being a mother, moving away it all has changed me a lot. They are my main priority now but I do love you girls so much, you are both my sisters, even if Olivia is on some shit but I had to change a lot. Mia I am sorry I left you out for months, I really had to find myself. For my son and for Cassius but I won’t do that again, I promise” Mia walked over to me with her arms out “I know, seeing you being such a concerned mother has made me a little jealous, it’s cute. To be worried about something that is your own” hugging Mia “it’s a been a long road” it really has been for me, to feel this way had been a long time coming.

“Y’all been up to some shit, I honestly thought Sofia did the whole attacking him but then she is pregnant” Jasmine pointed laughing, Kenton is so grumpy but he is alive “you pregnant? Again?” Kenton spat “I am yes” I grinned “y’all don’t wait, but anyways. Who hit me?” he asked “it was Amira, she did it” I pointed at her “did I kill her?” he asked, shaking my head “Olivia is fine, she has marks on her neck but she is fine. You both need to just have a break, I am not lying. You both need to break up, have a break. That means probably seeing other people, if it was real then you both get back together. That is my advice anyways” that is what I would do “it’s too much, I do love her too. I came here, I don’t know what I am doing with myself. I am calm now, I won’t kill her” even though Olivia does deserve it “so we can leave you both here to talk while we go to the beach?” Mia said “yeah you can, I think you right. Shit went sideways when we had that threesome with someone else, I think she felt jealous. It was another female” I did not fucking know this “wait, how was that even a thing!? The fuck?” Mia spat “we just wanted to spice things up in the bedroom and let’s just say, worst decision” this is a real ass mess.

Finally, some peace just on the beach “this place is beautiful, my favourite beach too. I mean look at it” when Jasmine and I came here for two weeks, we came Santa Monica beach every day. It’s just beautiful, and there is so many things to do “show me your bump? You said your bump is smaller now, let me see” Mia said as I sat down on the towel I laid out “oh yeah, it is much smaller. I am happy to have a smaller baby, Cartier was a nightmare. Lifting my tee up “awwww look how cute the bump is, it’s not big at all. You was much bigger before. Unless you was bigger in weight then, you are more skinny” I groaned out “don’t say that, but I am prepared. Having all of the vitamins, I don’t want to be ill with this one” pulling my tee over my bump “girl, you need to look after yourself. I am never setting anything up like this again” Mia said in a huff, I had to laugh because it’s been a mess “I mean we have memories right Amira” and she laughed “fuck y’all, we will remember has this was Mia’ worst gift on earth” Jasmine cooed out “have you seen this” Jasmine turned her phone to me “what is it?” I squinted my eyes, lifting my shades up “is that..” I dragged out “awww Cassius and Cartier chronicles it says” Mia read out “they met a penguin” I can see that they have “without me” I said, I am offended “girl be quiet” Mia hit my arm “that is so sweet that he’s taking him out though, they are ok without you” Amira said but I am sad.

The girls laughed “look at her ringing him, leave them alone!” Mia spat laughing, the girls don’t understand how upset I am about this. Cartier met a penguin and went there and I wasn’t there, I didn’t be there with them “Sofia” Cassius answered “you went without me?” I had to say it “where?” Cassius said all confused “you know where, you met a penguin without me?” Cassius laughed, he laughed like this is funny and I can hear the vacuum cleaner in the background “who is cleaning in the background?” what is this “Ethan” Cassius chuckled “nah, I got a cleaner to come out. Clean before you come, I am thinking ahead” I don’t call it that “so someone is cleaning your clothes? I can do that?” Cassius finds this funny “Sofia, Cartier and I went to see some fishes, that is it” I poked my lips out “but I wanted to see some fishes” I mumbled “awww bub, we can go again. But did you see it? I saw a penguin it was so dope” I missed out and I am sad “mhmmm” I am legit so sad “when I am there you do nothing and now with Cartier you’re taking him out everyday” am I a bad omen or something “because he is the boy” I scoffed “and what am I?” this is so unfair “you are the queen, come on Sofia” I don’t feel it “sure, anyways bye” disconnecting the call “he has a bitch in my house cleaning” I spat “oh Sofia, stop it. He is being nice. Watch when I go back home Mitch will do nothing about it” Amira put her hand up “I can high five on that sister, Kyle will be do the same” maybe I am being a brat but they met a penguin without me and he has been out with Cartier every day.

She is mad, I mean more jealous than anything “Ethan, you can’t stay here now that my girl is back you know that?” Ethan stayed the night “I know, I am going tonight too. When you pick up Sofia I am going then, the jet will be waiting” nodding my head “cool, I think Sofia feels I don’t miss her. I actually did, I mean Cartier and I both did. It’s weird, you can tell when she is not here. We ate out every night, that was it” Ethan doesn’t understand “flower, that will fix it” he is right “you are right, flowers. That will help” I sighed out “you hear that boy, momma is jealous we had fun. You dada boy ain’t you? You dada boy” Cartier got ever so giddy on the floor just laughing “sir where would you like this tree?” Sofia and her bright idea of a huge Christmas tree “just there, thanks” I pointed in the corner “that is big Cassius, she chose that?” it’s making a mess on top of the mess the cleaners are trying to clean “yeah she did, and planned for it to arrive when she comes back, she is clever that girl of mine. I ain’t about to climb that shit to do it up” feeling a tug on my jeans, looking down at Cartier. I gasped “you scared me there, come here” picking him up “I was thinking who is that and it is just you, you wanted hugs” hugging him close.

The house is clean, the tree is here and we are ready for Sofia to come home “Boss” Ethan knocked on my bedroom door “what’s up?” walking out of my bathroom “Kalia” I wonder what she wants, I mean I know what she wants. Taking his phone from him “you called?” she sighed out “thank you” that is nice of her “for?” I said confused “the money” I smiled “well you are mine now, you owe me” sitting on the edge of my bed “that doesn’t sound like a bad idea” Kalia said “you forgetting about being a detective now?” I questioned “for my kid yes, this will help. I need it” I have pictures of her taking drug money so good luck to her “I want to deal with you directly, I don’t want to call Ethan. You want information I deal with you and you only, and having me followed is not a good luck. I want to meet with you” she is giving orders “remember who’s boss” I said pulling a face “remember who needs who” she retorted “remember how that money will dry up and your little family will be dead, I will cut that life support” the line went silent “you need me, you came to me. And I will meet with you, when I am ready. Could be now, tomorrow, next week or next month. Be ready, be the informant you are. I will be watching you Kalia. Welcome to the team” disconnecting the call “you watch that bitch” throwing Ethan his phone.

“You watch her Ethan, under no circumstance unless I tell you too. You don’t give her my number, not until I have met up with her. She wants to work with me personally and I ain’t fucking with that, she wants my dick. Like I ain’t playing that game” Ethan laughed “she been wanting your dick, I think this is why they took her off your case. Also she wants getting shit done, she was was just interested in the dick. But I got it, I will let Christmas pass but we have enough drugs for Brooklyn and the operation there, just need to get something more” nodding my head as I turned off “thank you for dropping me too and letting me stay at your house” Ethan doesn’t need to say thank you, he kept me company because it can be very boring to just interact with a baby “so what is the deal with Kyle? You ain’t friends with him still? Raphael was brave to even ask about killing him” I forget about him a lot “nothing is happening or will be happening until my business is back in order. He is my friend so I ain’t killing him for that reason but I am still upset with him” he let me down, I wouldn’t need to be dealing with Kalia if he didn’t fuck up on us.

I am late, I mean it’s me and honestly I thought I was on time. It states the flight has arrived like thirty minutes ago but she hasn’t called “man, I think I really upset your momma son” Cartier doesn’t care, he is in my arms with his pacifier in his mouth just looking at people go by. Getting my phone out with my free hand, let me call her and see what is up because I did come here. Turning around as I unlocked my phone “I was timing you to see how late you would be” looking up from my phone seeing Sofia, I gasped “son, look momma is back” walking over to her “look at my baby, oh my gosh. I missed you both so much” Sofia is a crying mess already “we missed you too” hugging Sofia “I am so glad to be home” rubbing her back as she continued to cry “momma being over emotional” moving back from the hug “I have missed you both so much, come here baby. I have missed your face so much” Sofia reached up to grab Cartier from me but he didn’t want to go he just moved back “I think he is upset with you, you left us. That is mommy” pulling his pacifier out but he turned his face “moody butt, I love you” reaching my hand up to Sofia’ cheek “you look good” leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips “thank you, I am so happy to be back even though Cartier don’t want me” Sofia wrapped her arms around my waist.

Smiling at Amira lightly “you want to ride with us?” I asked “if you can fit me in” she said, I laughed “unless Cartier is taking the whole back seat, you can ride with us” Cartier hid his face in the crook of my neck “ok, this ain’t it Cassius. What have you done to my son” turning my head to see what Cartier is doing and he head butted me “woah there sir, what are you doing?” holding his hand as I turned him to face Sofia “this is momma, she is back home” Sofia is way too offended by this “I hate you both” I gasped “you have turned my son on me” I snorted laughing as she walked off “you offended your momma Cartier” letting his hand go as I pressed kisses to his cheek as I turned fixed him in my arms “love you son, hey Sofia. Let me get your bag, it’s cool. We can get that” grabbing Sofia’ suitcase “we can do this can’t we boy” pulling along her suitcase “I feel like the third wheel in this, I am not happy” I don’t know why she being like this.

I am so happy she is home, reaching my hand over and placing it on her thigh “I missed you so much” she placed her hand over mine “did you really though?” she questioned, grabbing Sofia’ hand and without looking away from the road I bought her hand up to my lips and pressed a kiss on her hand “I missed you loads and honestly Sofia, to feel like a real dad to Cartier. That is all I could ask, I know shit was like scary but it was something I needed and it’s created that bond, something I thought I couldn’t get. I know it took you going away but you needed it and I needed this. But trust me, we missed you. I decided that I love morning Cartier, he is so much better but the rest of the day he is yours” I chuckled “wow, so I get the moody ass later on” Sofia said “you damn right” shaking my head “so tell me, how was Cali for you ladies? Anything happened? I see you hanging with the famous now” looking over at Sofia “I rather not, but would you like the short version?” pressing my lips into a hard thin line “short version” I can’t be dealing with the long one “ Olivia had sex with another man, had a party, Mia and I had a disagreement, Amira knocked Kenton out because he was strangling Olivia and then I found out that my mom is texting me” my eyes bulged out “woah, woah, woah. Wait. What!?” I spat “which part?” Sofia said, Amira laughed in the back “everything, what the hell? How y’all get so dramatic? So let’s go back to the Kenton thing, he was trying to kill Olivia? Did he succeed?” Sofia hit my arm “hey, stop it. He did not, Amira hit him in the head and he was knocked out” that is so dramatic “you ladies have drama written all over, I should have came. So now your mom?” Sofia groaned out “later” I want to know now.

Parking outside Amira’ home “outside your home too, take care” I said looking in the back seat “thank you Cassius, you’re welcome to come in” I chuckled “I’ll pass on that” turning in my seat “why didn’t he pick you anyways?” I am sure he ain’t that busy “he is working the club for me” pulling a face “he don’t need too” he doesn’t need to be involved anymore “Cassius, don’t do this to him. He messed up and he knows it but please don’t shut him out” Amira pleaded “have a nice night Amira” I don’t want to hear it “you too” staring straight ahead, all this shit could have been avoided but it can’t now. Now I am having to do all this shit again, it still pisses me off. How can he let drugs go missing, he set out to be a dickhead so I will be a dickhead to him “Cassius, he is your friend” Sofia would add to it “yes he is, that is what he will be. We can catch up for a coffee but he can stay out of my shit now, I don’t need it yeah. I didn’t need him to be a fucking idiot. He ran when he didn’t need too, he is a pussy. There I said it, bitch ass” Sofia looked at me in sadness “he was there for you when you needed Cassius, he was” I sniggered “he was there, he was also in the way. I thank him for caring for me but he has made my life a mess even more. Do you think it’s easy, drugs go missing and that’s it huh? That is it? People lives are running on this Sofia, peoples money. When they ain’t getting there shit who they going to come for? Kyle? No, me yes. It’s my name on this. Both Miami and Atlanta is dry, no drugs. My warehouses are dry, I am using other people to get drugs from. I look weak, because of him I have to play dirty. I have work with a fucking bitch that wants me locked up, I know we trying to both play each other, so yeah. I am pissed with him. I could have come out and things would be fine, you want to hear it then there it is. That detective wants me and I don’t mean just in that way either” driving off slowly “in what way?” she asked “what you think?” looking over at Sofia “I am too loyal to you so it’s fine, I have to use her. I ain’t mean to tell you all of this but it’s like y’all want me to go and hug him. Maybe when I am set I will” I need to just relax.

Cartier is playing up, he knows momma is home “you think this is a game, quit playing. Come and have your milk” I said as I looked up at Sofia walking over to the bed “this is how you put him to sleep, no hugging?” shaking my head “I be here on the bed and he holds his own bottle and falls asleep” Sofia got on the bed, Cartier rolled onto his stomach staring at Sofia as she climbed on to the bed and rested her back against the headboard “my handsome baby, it’s mommy. Come on, I know you miss me” Sofia opened her arms out, Sofia reached over and grabbed his bottle “you go to momma before she gets my ass for it” he is thinking, I know he knows it’s Sofia, he is playing up “you know Cassius, what you told me earlier. I am happy you told me, you confided in me about it. I understand where you are coming from and also this detective that wants you, it doesn’t bug me because I trust you but I am happy you spoke on it” nodding my head “you going to come to mommy now, come on baby. I have missed you so much” Cartier wants his bottle so he will go to her, he crawled his way to her “I knew he would have but I just feel like people want me to be happy about that because Kyle is my friend, niggas get killed over this shit. You know what I mean, I just need to do right by myself this time and Kyle can stay back” I am doing shit my way.

Sofia cannot stop hugging Cartier and staring at him, she has really missed him “tell me about your mom, was she in Cali or some shit? I see you met Jasmine, remembering the good times huh?” looking up at Sofia, she side eyed me “stop it, that is your sister. She is so happy for you” I shrugged “I don’t need anyone to be happy for me, I don’t actually need anyone this time around. Just want my family good and that is it” that is all “Jasmine is that too” I had to laugh “she is nothing to me, you know when you let go, you do just that. I think I am ok without her, so your mom” I don’t want to hear it “well when I said Leyton had a new number, it was never that. After all that, it was my mom. So Leyton called me and I goes why do you have two numbers, do you have a burner phone and he goes no I have one. And at that point I had a meltdown, I was so scared” I sighed out “Sofia, Sofia, Sofia” I dragged out, that shit ain’t good, you know that “that could have been anyone” what have I been teaching this woman “I thought someone was coming to kill you at that point until Leyton said it’s mom, she wants to know me again but I was happy it was her but that is besides the point, I actually fucking didn’t check” shaking my head “here is me fucking with some detective bitch that could easily done that, Sofia you need to be careful” Sofia scoffed “well I hope you ain’t doing that” I sniggered “if I was single yes I would have, it would be really easy that way. But I am not” scratching my head “you’re annoyed with me” Sofia said “I am, you right. I am, I just feel like you want me to forgive easily” maybe it is just me, getting off of the bed “I need a blunt” I need one anyways.

It’s funny, Kyle did nothing for me. He was the most useless nigga to me but he was my friend but here he is arriving late to his house, doing things for the club but I know his game and it ain’t going to make me speak to him. He is doing this for Amira not me, there is no fucking drugs to sell in these clubs because of him. I have no fucking warehouse anymore, watching Kyle walk into his house as I flicked my stub off of the balcony, I actually need to stop that. Feeling my phone vibrate, that is my burner phone, I got one again now. Getting my phone out from my pocket as I blew the smoke out from my lips, answering the call “speak” I said down the phone “he did leave the club” Laurence said “watch him still” disconnecting the call, I have to be sure because niggas go rogue ain’t the one, Myles got me and I can’t just let Kyle be running around and also Raphael is after his ass and wants him dead, so Laurence is doing both things. Walking back into the room “coming to bed?” Sofia asked but she is wearing just her bra and panties, closing the balcony window and looked at Sofia again. It makes me wonder if I did what I did on this bed, like it just makes me think. Clearing my throat “uhm, I am going to look over some figures, you can rest up. Nice to have you back though” walking off.

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Why you? (Pt9) Bang Chan series

Description: You save a very important mans life and he decides to repay you to the fullest. But is this a little too much?

“Who pissed in his cheerios?” Felix asked.

You just stared out into the hallway where Chan had walked off too.

“I don’t know, maybe he wasn’t hungry.” Jeongin said.

“Yea, ‘not hungry.’” Minho said.

After dinner, you started to wash the dishes, and Woojin stood beside you, helping you. He didn’t say much and you enjoyed the silence. When you had first met the members, you were actually quite intimidated by Woojin and Minho. Neither of them talked much to you at first, but then you all became friends. Woojin was a silent listener and could usually tell if something was bothering you. None of the members have ever seen you cry, as you were too awkward to show too much negative emotion in front of them, so none of them knew if something was ever hurting you. Except Woojin. He could usually tell if something was upsetting you or on your mind and would silently sit near you or start a small conversation and make you laugh. He gave you warm hugs here and there, knowing if you needed them.

“I wonder if Chan’s upset.” You said, breaking the silence.

“I think so.” He responded.

“Is he stressed about the comeback?” You asked.

He shrugged as he dried the last plate and put it up on the shelf.

“Not sure, I’ll talk to him and make sure he’s okay though.” He said.

You nodded and walked towards the living room, almost bumping into Chan as he walked towards the stairs.

“Oh- sorry.” You said.

“It’s okay.” He said.

“Chan, are you okay?” You asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’m just a little tired so I’m gonna head upstairs and lay down.” He said, giving you smile.

“Okay, goodnight.” You said, smiling back.

He walked up the stairs and you sat in the living room alone with a book. You were reading a horror book that hooked you right away. You yawned as you picked up your cup of hot chocolate and took a sip. The weather was a little chilly, as it was only spring, and the warm drink, warm blanket, and light rainfall outside made you sleepy. You closed your eyes and fell asleep.

You jolted awake as you gasped for breath. Another nightmare. You felt yourself tremble and choke for air. This had been the realest feeling one yet.

You felt the couch dip where your head had been and jumped when you felt a warm hand touch you.

“Y/N, are you okay?” 

You turned your head and saw Chan looking at you, worry across his face.

“Y-Yeah, just a bad dream.” You said, looking away from him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked.

You shook your head and you both fell silent. Rain still pattered on the windows and your half drunken drink still filled the room with a chocolate smell.

“You should go to your room and go back to sleep.” He said.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll be better in my bed.” You said as your body still trembled. 

You felt his warm hand on your shoulder as he sat closer to you. Your back hit the side of his chest as he rubbed your arm.

“It was only a dream, it’s gonna be okay.” He said. You both sat like that until your body stopped trembling. He rubbed soft circles into your arm with his thumb and you looked back at him and smiled.

“I’m okay now, thank you. You should probably go to sleep too.” You said.

He nodded as he stood up and got up right after, grabbing your cup and bringing it into the kitchen to wash. You heard the stairs creek as he walked up the stairs and you sighed in relief. Now your heart can return back to normal. Between Chan and the nightmare, your heart was beating out of your chest. You made your way into your room and washed your face. Before you climbed into bed, you heard a soft knock at the door. You opened it and saw a sleepy looking Jeongin. He walked past you and into your room, laying on your bed and getting under the covers. You followed after, laying down and feeling him hug you. You felt better, feeling someone laying next to you. 

You groggily got out of bed the next morning, the spot next to you empty as the boys had an early schedule that day. You washed up and cleaned the dorm up. Dusting, sweeping, and vacuuming. Although cleaning got boring, you had a lot of time to do what you wanted after. And JYP paid you BIG MONEY to do such an easy job. But cleaning up after 9 boys while also doing their shopping and errands can sometimes be a hassle. You were just glad they weren’t messy like most men. 

You finished around three and decided to visit the boys and bring them some food. You grabbed some of their favorite take outs and drove over to the JYP building. You walked down the hallway when you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N?” 

You turned around and saw Hyungsuk standing there, he had makeup on and his hair was parted.

“Hyungsuk?” You asked in surprise.

“It IS you!” He said with a smile, walking over and hugging you.

He hugged you so shamelessly despite the fact you two have only known each other for twenty four hours-tops. But you didn’t mind, he was genuine and sweet.

“I didn’t know you were a trainee.” You said, realizing why he was all done up.

“Yeah, we did a performance cover. Do you need help with those bags?” He asked.

“Nah, they’re not heavy.” You said.

“You seem like the type that’s strong enough to throw a grown man.” He said with a laugh.

“Yah!” You yelled, laughing with him.

Just then, you heard someone clear their throat. When you turned around, Felix and Chan were standing behind the both of you.

“Oh, hey guys. I brought you food.” You said.

“You know them?!” Hyungsuk gasped.

You nodded and laughed as Felix gave Hyungsuk a friendly smile.

“You were the guy she hung out with yesterday?” He asked.

“Awe, did you talk about me Y/N?” Hyungsuk asked.

“Pshh, yeah. In your dreams.” You laughed.

Hyungsuk looked at Chan and bowed deeply.

“You’re Bang Chan! I’m a huge fan!.” He said, grabbing Chan’s hand and shaking it.

Chan smiled and thanked him before walking down the hallway towards the practice rooms. You turned to Felix who shrugged.

“He’s been grouchy all day.” He said.

“Why? Is he okay?” You asked.

“I don’t know. I tried talking to him but he kept brushing it off.” He said.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Hyungsuk said suddenly, “But I have to get going. It was nice meeting you Felix.” He said bowing to Felix before turning towards you and giving you another hug.

“I hope we can see each other more often Y/N!” He said, letting go and waving at you before heading down the hall. 

You waved then turned towards Felix.

“He’s super nice.” He said.

“Yeah he is.” You said as you and Felix and walked towards the practice rooms.

When you walked in, the members turned towards you.

“Finally! I’m starving.” Jisung said.

“Sorry, Y/N’s boyfriend happens to be a trainee and we ran into him.” Felix said.

“WHAT?” Minho said, cracking up.

“Shut up, he isn’t my boyfriend.” You said.

All the boys took their food, besides Chan. You handed him his and he took it without looking at you.

“Chan, are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah, just thinking.” He said with a smile.

You nodded and sat down to eat with them. They were all talking and laughing about stuff, but you kept looking at Chan. He was pretty quiet and not eating too much. Worry began to fill your stomach. You knew Chan was dedicated, but you didn’t want him over working himself. His eye bags weren’t extremely bad, but they were noticeable.

“So Y/N, when are we going to meet this boyfriend of yours?” Hyunjin teased.

You threw a piece of chicken from Woojin’s platter at him and he started laughing.

“MY CHICKEN!” Woojin yelled, the loudest you’ve ever heard him yell.

You all started laughing as Woojin stared at the small piece of chicken.

“THAT’S DISRESPECT!” He shrieked.

At this point, everyone was laughing now and you started to choke. Jisung patted your back as you wiped tears from your eyes from laughing so hard.

“No but seriously, when are we gonna meet him?” Hyunjin asked again.

“He really isn’t my boyfriend.” You said.

“Hmmmm I dunno, he hugged you pretty tight.” Felix laughed.

You rolled your eyes as the other boys laughed and continued to eat your food. You saw Chan close his food that he barely touched and get up to walk to the recording studio.

“Changbin, Jisung, I’ll be in the recording studio.” He said as he walked out.

“I don’t know what his problem is but he’s been like that all day.” Jisung said.

After they finished eating, Changbin and Jisung walked to the recording studio and you stayed to watch the other boys. You wanted to go with them, but you didn’t know how Chan would feel since he was in a bad mood. You watched the boys’ new choreo and smiled at Jeongin who had mastered a part he kept messing up.

“You’re doing great!” You said with a big smile.

His eyes brightened and smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you noona.” He said.

After a little bit of them practicing, it was almost time for them to head home. You were about to walk out and start the car to heat it up a little bit when you bumped into someone. The last time that happened in that building, things ended BADLY. You slowly looked up and saw Hungsuk’s happy face close to yours.

“Hey Y/N!” He said, squashing you into a hug.

“H-Hi Hyungsuk.” You wheezed out as he smooshed you.

“How was practice?” You asked.

“It was good. I don’t have to be in til late tomorrow, do you wanna hangout beforehand?” He asked.

“Sure, I don’t have to run the members dinner until around six tomorrow.” You said.

“Perfect, I have to be here by six.” He said happily.

He hugged you again and you laughed. You stopped laughing when you saw Chan standing there, his phone in his hand but his eyes on you. Jisung laughed as he saw you and Hyungsuk.

“Wow Y/N, you two really are dating.” He said.

“We are NOT.” You said, huffing.

Hyungsuk laughed and ruffled your hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He walked away and when you turned towards Jisung and Chan, Chan walked right by you without saying anything.

“Sheesh, he’s still grumpy.” Jisung said.

When you all arrived back at the dorms, you all sat down to finish your leftovers. You saw Chan picking at his food still and you worry prickle at you.

“Hyung what’s wrong?” Felix asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Chan said, giving a small smile as usual. 

He ate a little bit more before putting his food in the fridge and walking into the living room. You finished your food and walked into the living room, sitting on the couch. Chan was staring out the window, his chin on his hand.

“Chan? Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He said, getting up and leaving the room.

You looked down at your hands. Maybe he was uncomfortable after hearing you say you liked him. But he had comforted you yesterday, so was that even a possibility? 

Jisung walked into the room and sat next to you and played a movie while the other members sat down to watch.

“Where’s hyung?’ Jeongin asked.

“He said he has stuff to work on.” Changbin said.

As you all watched the movie, you couldn’t help but think about Chan. He was acting weird. He wasn’t talking or eating much and he never missed movie night. Jisung pulled you into him and you cuddled into his side.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, just distracted.” You said.

“Are you worried about Chan?” He asked.

You nodded and he ruffled your hair.

“He’ll be okay, he’s probably just stressed.” He said.

After the movie you headed to your room. Chan came around the corner and walked right by you without saying anything. He didn’t even glance at you. As you laid in bed you tried to think if you did something wrong, or if any of the other members pissed him off, but you couldn’t think of anything. You couldn’t think of anything and fell into a restless slumber.

[onlyinmyimagination]

Interest and Infatuation | pt. 1

Red Hood x (Female) Reader 

Summary: You’re a housekeeper working for the Wayne Family. A chance encounter with Red Hood leads to an unconventional romance neither of you expected.

Warnings: Some cursing. Weapons, violence, blood.

Pt. 2 // Pt. 3

~

It had only been a week since you started working at Wayne Manor, but you’d already decided this was the best job in the whole city. The benefits that came with working for the richest man in Gotham City along with paid for housing within the city was a dream come true. With Gotham’s overwhelmingly high crime rate yet enviously low cost of living, you had your doubts about moving to Gotham but perhaps it was luck that enabled you to snag this job. Or maybe Alfred Pennyworth simply liked your personality.

Granted it wasn’t exactly a job to brag about and not your intended career of choice, but housekeeping was still a respected profession. It’s a job no one wants to do, but it continues to be undeniably a necessary one in all parts of the world.

In the week you’ve worked at the Wayne household, you had yet to meet your employer and his family. You only knew their faces from various forms of media, and from their portraits that hung in the gallery hall. From what you heard, they were all adopted and yet somehow they all held the same physical trait of being ridiculously attractive. On your first day of orientation and training, you had studied their portraits during one of your breaks and had decided to explore the palace-like interior. You remembered thinking it would be believable if they actually were blood-related. All the males had dark hair and blue eyes, except for the youngest who had more green than blue in his eyes, but they also had the same, secretive expression in their eyes―even the girl. But maybe that was the trademark style of the painter. You decided not to dwell on it and hurried back to continue your training. Then you proceeded to get lost on the way back and was left wandering the countless rooms until Alfred Pennyworth finally retrieved you.

You enjoyed the company of the five other girls employed in the Wayne Manor. They were helpful and hardworking. Each of them had worked there much longer than you though their ages varied. The one closest in age to you was Ellen. She had a son to support so she only worked part-time, with varying days that Mr. Pennyworth had kindly obliged to work with. However, her presence was required during special events, whether held at the Manor or any of the Wayne properties. This was something you had yet to experience but you were assured would happen quite frequently. Aside from Ellen, the others and yourself worked Monday to Friday from seven in the morning to three in the afternoon. It was a normal eight hour a day job. So far, the only unique clause in your signing to work for the Waynes was that you were to work exclusively for the Waynes, meaning you were prohibited to be concurrently employed elsewhere while under contract as a housekeeper in Wayne Manor. With the crime rate of Gotham as high as it was, you didn’t really blame them for adding such a clause to the contract. Fear of theft or even the threat of privacy violation were something even the richest family of Gotham would take measures to defend against, even from their own employees.

There were chores that had to be performed daily in the Manor that were as curious as the family that lived in it. It included washing dirty dishes that piled up overnight by the supposedly nocturnal family, scrubbing away at even more mysterious stains from carpets and rugs that appeared out of nowhere, and returning misplaced furniture back to their designated places. Other than the rectifying of these curious messes, there were plenty of other mundane tasks to do within the Manor such as sweeping, dusting, polishing, and so forth.

One day after working at the Wayne household and spending a day vacuuming the carpets, it was raining as you and the rest of the housekeepers made your way back to Gotham City. Today however you decided you needed to stop by the nearby market.

The five of you shared a car every day to cross the bridge to and from the Wayne Manor which was situated across the bay in Gotham’s suburbs. There was an apartment building in the city owned by Wayne Enterprises that was offered to the housekeepers. Two whole floors were reserved for Wayne Enterprise employees, though more specifically, for the Wayne Manor housekeepers and was rent-free only to them.

“Can you drop me off here?” you asked as the car approached the market just a couple blocks from the apartment building. “You guys can go on ahead. I just need to buy a few things.”

“Want me to go with you?” Citlali, one of the housekeepers, asked.

You shook your head and insisted, “No, I’m alright.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” Nour said as you opened the car door. Nour was one of the younger housekeepers who had one of the prettiest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I just need a few things,” you declared with a laugh. “It will be really quick. I’ll see you back at the apartment. Thanks.” With that, you shut the car door and hurriedly dashed through the rain and into the store.

It took only a few minutes to buy what you needed and you’re soon out in the rain under the safety of your umbrella. The sky was blanketed in gray and the clouds were heavy, making it look as dark as night. The downpour of the rain was calming but the chill made you pull your coat tighter around you as you watched the path for puddles. It was at the crosswalk when you heard the splash of another set of steps behind you. You hadn’t heard the pair of feet before and you wonder if the sound might have only been the echo of your own. You hadn’t passed many people when you left the market and you peaked beneath your umbrella only to see no one else on the streets. It was disconcerting to be alone on the street but if you screamed loud enough, surely the occupants of the apartment complexes around you would hear, even over the downpour.

You were torn between confirming the stalker behind you and simply running to the safety of your home. But letting a potential thief know where you lived was not the brightest thing to do, so you turned the corner at the intersection just before your apartment. You barely had a plan at this point, and your heart quickened at the realization that you were in a much more dire situation than you thought. You hadn’t even confirmed whether you were being followed but as you were contemplating how to do so, you were pushed into a wide driveway between two apartment buildings. Your umbrella was knocked from your hands and you dropped your grocery bag as you stumbled into a large puddle. Something pressed against your back.

“Scream and I’ll put a bullet through your heart.”

You nodded and blinked the rainwater from your eyes as you stared ahead, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Give me your purse. I just want your valuables.”

“It’s very rude not to help a lady with her bags,” a distorted voice called distantly. The echo bounced from the building walls but it sounded muddled as it mixed with the patter of the rain, making it hard to pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

“Who the fu―oh shit!”

You tried to figure out what was happening but you were too slow to see the quick exchange between the masked vigilante and your assailant who was now on his knees in front of the vigilante. There was a clatter as a gun skidded a few feet in your direction. You stared at one of the masked heroes you’ve only read and heard about in the news.

“Ma’am, you should get out of here and head on home.” The voice was robotic with a low tone and pitch. It took you a moment to process the situation as you stared at the red helmet, the dull gleam of the metal barely catching any light in the gloomy weather. Then you scrambled to gather your grocery bag and grabbed the handle of your umbrella, shaking out the water before raising it over your head. You almost dashed across the street but you only took one step before stopping and looking back. It seemed wrong to leave, to run away, especially without thanking your savior when you weren’t sure you would ever see him again. The vigilante noticed your presence and looked back at you curiously. The assailant took this as an opening and got to his feet and charged forward, raising his arm high and bringing it down in a swift movement at the unassuming vigilante. There was a knife in his hand.

Your savior turned just in time to stop the movement mid-swing by grabbing the blade and thus cutting his hand. He grunted in pain but managed to kick his opponent back hard enough to make him fall to the ground. Then with one hard and perfectly aimed kick to the head, the vigilante knocked out the assailant.

The vigilante shook his injured right hand side to side as if to shake away the pain. “Don’t you know women hate persistent guys who don’t know when to stop? Take a hint, man.”

You rushed back to your savior and approached with worry. “You’re hurt! I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault. Thank you so much for saving me.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, yanking his hand away when you reached out to take it.

“Please, let me see,” you insisted with an outstretched hand. You looked up at him anxiously, peering from beneath your umbrella. That’s when you noticed the rain slipping down his helmet and down the exposed skin of his neck just above his bodysuit. You lifted the umbrella higher and tilted it in his direction so he was under it. As if spurred by your actions, he revealed his gloved hand to you and you examined the cut where the blade sliced open his palm. It wasn’t too deep. This was something you could help patch up, but you were distressed by the blood steadily oozing from the wound.

“I just bought some first aid supplies from the market,” you said, holding up the bag of groceries. “I can clean this up for you.”

He retracted his hand. “Look, lady, I appreciate the thought but this seems like much more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It’s not!” you remarked. “This happened because of me. It’s my fault you got hurt. Let’s just go over there. It will be really quick, okay?” You were pointing at a bench outside a nearby store where it was protected from the rain by the store’s awning.

A deep sigh left him. “Okay.” He begrudgingly let you lead him a few paces to the covered seating area and sat down at your insistence, with you tugging on his arm the whole way. You quickly retracted your umbrella and placed your belongings on the bench as you sat beside him. He helped you peel the glove off his hand with the blood-soaked material almost glued to his skin.

You pushed down your nervousness as you leaned closer to him. The atmosphere was quite ambient, with the drumming of the rain on the awning overhead and the heavy downpour surrounding you. It felt comfortable, like you were in a safe and protected bubble. Except you were sharing the moment with a masked stranger. You never would have thought you’d be this close to one of Gotham City’s vigilantes. Before moving here you tried to do some research on them, but only found controversies and a surprisingly large online fanbase. You ultimately decided they were heroes and should be trusted guardians of Gotham, but never did you imagine you’d interact with one.

“So you just happened to be buying this stuff on your way home?” the vigilante asked conversationally.

“Yeah,” you answered. Then hesitantly you elaborated, “I recently started work that I’m not used to yet, so I’ve accumulated a few cuts and scrapes.”

He was silent for a moment as he took note of the roughness of your hands while you dabbed at his cut with some gauze pads. “And what is it that you do, may I ask?”

You hesitated again. “I’m a housekeeper.”

“...A maid?” Then he caught a glimpse of your uniform beneath your coat. “You work at Wayne Manor?”

“How did you know? There’s not even an insignia or emblem on the uniform,” you said while glancing down at your attire. You looked at him and examined the hardened expression set on the helmet.

“Oh, uh, it’s a distinctive uniform. It’s easy to identify,” he said, though you doubted it. The housekeeper uniform was a dress that stopped a few inches below the knees, gray in color and made of stiff material that did nothing to compliment the figure. The short sleeves were cuffed and had a cutaway collar and buttons going about halfway down the torso. A very plain ensemble.

You applied the antiseptic spray onto the cut and he made a hissing sound that sounded amusingly odd when mixed with the voice changer. When you soaked the cut enough in the solution you pressed gauze pads into his hand and quickly wrapped his hand with an adhesive bandage wrap.

“There, all done. Learned that from Google,” you said as you dropped the materials back into your bag. “Oh, and I think you need to keep it elevated…or something.”

“Heh, not bad for a temporary fix. Now we’re even.” He held up his hand to admire the handiwork.

You watched him carefully and said, “I’m really sorry again.”

“Hey, no worries. Why did you stop, anyway? Weren’t you scared?” he questioned. “Or did you stop because you were scared?”

“No, I wasn’t scared...I was relieved that you showed up and saved me,” you answered slowly, unsure how to express yourself, “but I didn’t leave because I didn’t like leaving you there with…my problem.”

“Your problem? It wasn’t your fault that this happened, so stop thinking that way. And secondly, this is my job so next time a hero or whatever tells you to get away, please listen to them.” He got to his feet then glanced back at you. “Now where do you live? Shall I walk you back home?”

“It’s okay. I live right across the street, just right there.” You pointed at an apartment complex a few buildings down and across the street, diagonally from where you were taking refuge.

“How embarrassing. I wanted to look cool but that just blew up in my face.”

You laughed a little. “Well, you were very cool when you saved me from that guy earlier,” you said.

A robotic hum sounded from his helmet. “That does make me feel a little bit better.”

You gathered your things and faced him, intending to leave. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Thank you again.”

“Likewise. Now hurry inside. I’ll watch you until you go in.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stared down at you.

You agreed with a shy nod. “Okay.” You scurried across the street with a thrumming heart and kept the umbrella low to hide your face. You didn’t look back even as you reached the building or when you passed through the doors. You made your way up and stopped to take a moment once inside your apartment, which was a corner unit of humble size. Your living room window coincidentally faced the street you had just been on, so you went to it and looked outside.

He was still across the street but closer now to the building and in the middle of the downpour. He was looking up at your window. You stiffened at this and slowly raised your hand to wave to him before quickly side-stepping out of sight to hide behind the wall.

It took you a long moment to gather the courage to peek out the window again and when you did he was gone, along with the unconscious criminal’s body.

.

.

.

[kcwcommentary]

VLD7x11 – “Trial By Fire”

7x11 – “Trial By Fire”

Like last episode, there are some things that bother me about this episode, but overall, it’s not a bad episode.

The episode starts by quickly reshowing Voltron blasted by the zeiforge system in orbit around Earth and that blast causing the Lions to separate. The blast also knocked the Paladins unconscious. Back at the Garrison, Coran again comments that Sendak was ready for them, but is baffled as to how. Instantly, Sam then asks, “Where’s Admiral Sanda?” Of course, he instantly thinks of her. He’s not wrong, as we know from the end of last episode, but having him so quickly go there is the writer leading the writing. Curtis says that Sanda “has been gone since our mission briefing.” So, it seems she didn’t wait any time whatsoever before betraying everyone. I still feel that this betrayal isn’t realistic for her to do at this time. I’m not saying I couldn’t see her trying to bargain with Sendak at all, just that her picking right at the time that the Garrison was trying to conduct a major mission to do it does not fit her previously and frequently depicted cautious personality.

Shiro can’t get a response from the Paladins, so he starts asking Sam about other options. Sendak’s ship and zeiforge cannon apparatuses are all out of range of the Garrison’s fusion cannons and the MFEs’ ships are recharging. Then Shiro asks about the Atlas. He plans on getting it flying.

Meanwhile, somehow, the Galra have been able to get inside the Lions and take the Paladins out of them. For some reason, I’ve always assumed that the Lions were far more physically secure, that it would be a lot more difficult for someone to get into the Lions, especially with their power down. I don’t know why I’ve thought that though, probably came out of the Lions having their own minds. If people can forcibly enter a Lion, then that kind of is a bodily violation, which is creepy. All of the Paladins have been thrown down on the floor at Sendak’s feet. Keith, at least, is somewhat conscious, and he can see and hear Sanda talking to Sendak.

“Now it’s time you uphold your end of the bargain: Hand over the Paladins to me and leave Earth,” Sanda says. I’m still baffled why she would think this was a viable play. What about Sendak’s behavior to this point made her think he would actually cooperate? What about everything she’s learned through the files Sam brought with him about the Galra made her think this would work? It just feels like this part of her character has been totally forced and not properly set up. Of course, Sendak replies, “That won’t be happening.” Sendak orders Sanda be thrown in the brig with the Paladins. Is literally anyone surprised?

Coran and Sam are trying to figure out how to get the Atlas going while the Galra position the zeiforge cannons. Veronica says that the movement of the cannons will put them in position to attack the base. Shiro comments about how the base’s particle barrier will not hold against the zeiforge cannons, and Coran seizes on the idea of using power from the barrier to get the Atlas going. I like that the show is having it take time for the Galra to reposition the zeiforge cannons, with Veronica saying they have two hours. It’s nice for the show to actually give the story time to develop. Shiro orders Veronica to transfer mission control to the Atlas and orders Iverson to get all the base’s personnel on the Atlas.

The MFEs are almost recharged, so Shiro tells them to get in the air. The MFE pilots seem confused about the base losing the particle barrier, but with everyone at the base moving onto the Atlas, I’m not sure why.

Keith fully regains consciousness in a cell alone. He can’t summon his bayard, but the other Paladins hear him call their name and start talking from their respective cells. Keith tells them about what he saw and heard about Sanda. Sanda can hear their conversation, and she tells them, “He said he’d leave Earth if he had the Lions, but he lied to me.” I’m definitely not against a character doing what ends up being the wrong thing but for the right reason. The basic premise of trying to bargain the Lions for Earth’s freedom is not one that object to, but it can’t be something a character does in a vacuum. If Sanda didn’t demonstrate so much caution earlier in the show, if she didn’t have information available to inform her about the type of person Sendak is and the type of people the Galra are, then her actions with this attempted bargain would make more sense. Having Sanda be as she was depicted earlier, even her having the information about Sendak and the Galra that she does, doesn’t necessarily mean that the story couldn’t have brought her to this point of trying to bargain. 

Whatever it would be, there is something missing from the story to bring her character to this point. She apparently went immediately from the mission briefing and started this bargain. That’s not realistic timing for this development with her character. Again, I’m not saying that a betrayal from Sanda couldn’t work, but she would not do it in the middle of a mission, risking everyone in the process. If it was just the Paladins at risk, then I could see her doing it, like if her trying to bargain information about the Paladins going back to Saturn to get the Lions or something that would put the conflict between the Galra and Voltron away from Earth, then I could totally see her trying to make that bargain. Or if there was completely open conflict happening on Earth and she felt a sense of imminent loss, like it was a crux moment that she thought humanity was an inch away from being wiped out, then I could see her willing to bargain in that moment. But nothing like that happened. Like I said, there’s something missing, something the narrative needs for this plot pivot to work.

I like that Keith, who could yell at Sanda, instead focuses on the mission and the situation. He asks her what Sendak’s plan is, but I don’t know why Sanda would know Sendak’s plan if she was just surprised that Sendak reneged on what she thought he had agreed to. Somehow, she has spontaneously gained knowledge of Sendak’s plan, saying, “Sendak is moving the zeiforge cannons into position. He’s going to destroy Earth.” I mean, maybe she is just making a total assumption here, but she had been asked about Sendak’s plan, which implies she has direct knowledge of it. Again, it just feels like something is missing in this story.

Sam diverts the power from the particle barrier to the Atlas, and the Galra quickly realize it. The zeiforge cannons are still not yet in position, and Sendak realizes that the Garrison must be working on something for that barrier to have been deactivated. He orders a more standard attack of the base, so a Galra cruiser starts firing on parts of the base, blowing up buildings. The MFEs engage the Galra. The Atlas is loaded and powered and ready to launch. I love the music. The Atlas begins to ascend but loses power after a few moments and crashes back down. Another Galra cruiser joins the attack. I genuinely laughed when Leifsdottir was asked what she could see, and she responded, “Two cruisers, 76 fighters, temperate weather patterns, blue skies, the perfect conditions for—” The really orderly thought patterns revealed by the way she speaks notably differentiates her from other characters.

I’m honestly not interested in seeing Sam pity himself, “I’ve built a ship that’s useless.” Of course, I can understand how he would be upset, but they are under direct attack. The adrenaline of being attacked wouldn’t let someone trained for high stress conditions, as I would think everyone at the Garrison would be, fall into self-pity like he’s doing. “It would take the power of several supermassive black holes to get this hunk of metal off the ground.” That’s not really a statement that makes sense. All supermassive black holes have is tremendous gravity, they don’t produce energy.

Shiro leaning forward on his console makes the prosthetic’s width look double the width of his real arm. It’s so visually weird.

Sam’s comment made Coran think of the “diamond” that the Castle of Lions was crushed into, yet not destroyed, by the teludav explosion at the end of season six. Conveniently, Coran is wearing that large “diamond” around his neck.

This is why it feels so off for Shiro to be commanding the Atlas. It’s clear that the Atlas is a replacement for the Castle of Lions. That Castle was one of the last things Allura had of her culture. And now, the Castle-replacement is going to be powered by essentially the Castle’s corpse. The Atlas’s place in the narrative is directly tied to Allura’s character. With Allura having learned Altean alchemy at the end of season five and used it to alter the substance of ships in season six, it would have made natural sense for her to be involved in getting the Atlas going, but she’s not because the position of authority that she used to hold that she would be acting from again if she were involved with the Atlas here was taken from her to shove these characters into an arrangement that matches a previous Voltron show, not this one.

A lot more Galra cruisers jump in to join the attack on the base.

Coran shows the crystal to Sam, who reveals the beneath-the-floor container that he had built to house a Balmeran crystal. Sam starts to run on about how it’ll be difficult to get this crystal to work for that system, but the crystal starts glowing, floating, and jerks out of Coran’s hand into the system. I don’t know why the crystal would do that, but it functions as a shortcut to keep the narrative from getting bogged down, and the absence of an explanation isn’t glaring, so I’m good with it. The Atlas’s power comes back online.

Shiro starts issuing orders. He puts Iverson on weapons and Coran at the helm. Coran snaps to, saying, “Yes Captain!” and I love the look on Shiro’s face. He’s like, oh man, what did I get myself into.

I’m not fundamentally against the idea of Shiro as captain of the Atlas, but I have a huge problem with how it fits within the greater narrative of the show. If Shiro wasn't being put in command of the Atlas because the executive producers were trying to keep people from criticizing the show for not having Shiro as Black Paladin, his being captain could be really cool. If the story had it be something like he was separated from Voltron and couldn't be Black Paladin and then spent time with Atlas and ended up liking it and he had some good moments talking about deciding he wanted to remain in command of the Atlas rather than rejoin the Paladins, then that would be fine. But nothing like that happens. He doesn't find a new direction for himself, his becoming captain doesn't come from his character, it comes from EP proclamation that they wanted Keith as Black Paladin. Atlas is just a consolation prize for Shiro, it’s not what the narrative set Shiro up to achieve.

The show still hasn't explained, and never does explain, why Shiro no longer has a bond with the Black Lion, and that will always bother me. His bond was so strong that Black refused to let Shiro's spirit die. And without any explanation whatsoever, not even a senseless explanation, Shiro's bond with the Black Lion is just totally ignored for the rest of the show. That is an abject refusal of the show to have necessary story content. This is something significant enough that it absolutely needed to be explained and explained well.

Shiro assigns Sam to be the ship’s engineer, orders the MFEs to clear a path for Atlas’s launch. Sendak’s ship realizes something is launching from the base, and Sendak orders it to be destroyed before it can launch.

I love the music of the launch of the Atlas. I really like the design of the Atlas as a ship, especially the colors used for it. Most of the colors are calm colors – the Atlas is not painted bright and primary like the Lions are – yet still, the Atlas’s colors simultaneously have a boldness to them. I think it’s a challenge to be both visually calm and bold, but the Atlas design does it.

I’m not fond of the name Atlas though. Of course, I get it, the name was chosen under the common, mistaken idea of Atlas having the weight of the world on his shoulders. Its name is supposed to connote bearing great responsibility. The problem with that is the actual mythology of Atlas. He wasn’t given the task of upholding the heavens because it was a solemn duty, Atlas was made to hold up the heavens for eternity as a punishment. So, with Shiro put in command of the Atlas instead of being allowed to be Black Paladin, I can’t help but have my awareness of the mythology of Atlas mix in and feel like Shiro is being punished. I don’t in anyway think that the EPs and writers put Shiro in command of the Atlas thinking of it as a punishment (again, I think they mostly did it to try to shut up people who’d complain about Shiro not being Black Paladin). I doubt the EPs and writers of this show even know the actual story of Atlas, though they probably think that they do.

The sky battle continues. Turns out the MFEs have weapons they, as James says, have been “hanging on to.” We have seen these people in desperate combat before, why would they have hung on to any weapons then? The missiles they use have “electromagnetic pulses,” which is such a used-up trope, but whatever. The Galra fleet is sufficiently inhibited by them for a while. Sendak orders his ship to directly enter the battle now. The Atlas counter-targets a cruiser near Sendak’s ship and destroys it. The force of that explosion is enough that the Paladins on Sendak’s ship can feel it and quickly conclude that the Garrison is attacking, Pidge jumps to the conclusion that it’s the Atlas. I mean, yeah, it’s a good guess, but given how much this show has characters conveniently arrive at the right conclusion about things still makes it annoying.

Hunk suggests that they might be able to psychically call the Lions to them right now. Pidge is dismissive of it, but I don’t know why. Enough has happened with them and their Lions that Hunk’s idea isn’t absurd. Keith says, “Shiro said we’re capable of more than we realize. Maybe it’s worth a shot.” Literally what else could they do right now? They’re all locked in cells, so not only is it “worth a shot,” it’s their only shot.

They all close their eyes. It’s a long sequence, but of course it works. The Lions come online and roar. Sendak asks what the Paladins are doing, and his subordinate states that they’re still in their cells. Sendak then orders, “Take them out.” And then there’s a cut to the Lions blasting out of whatever hangar they’ve been kept in. It’s a jarring transition. I know the Paladins are piloting their Lions psychically and remotely, but I think it needed another shot to shore up that reality because the transition can feel like the show skipped showing something.

Sanda hears the Galra coming, and she starts asking for them to let her out, saying that the Atlas has a weakness, that if they take her to Sendak, she’ll tell them how to attack the Atlas. Of course, this is yet another reversal, Sanda tricking them to get the door open so she can attack the Galra, but this reversal makes sense. It comes out of the contemplation the show has shown her having about how they’re in this situation because of her misjudgment. Proper and depicted motivation informing character action, this is how writing should be. It’s given to us here, but it was nonexistent earlier with Sanda’s betrayal, and I think that has to do solely with the writers thinking they were preserving the shock of the betrayal. The desire to write surprise twists into a story does not negate the need to make sure the action of the twist is very well informed within the character’s motivation.

Shiro asks Sam what other weapons the Atlas has, and Sam answers, “I’m really not sure. Once we added the crystal, this ship gained abilities I never imagined.” Like with Alfor designing and building the Lions, the Atlas, spontaneously out of nowhere and in absolute defiance of how engineering works, has abilities it was not designed to have. That didn’t work for me with the Lions/Voltron, and it doesn’t work for me with the Atlas. I’m not saying they shouldn’t have the abilities that they do, just that those abilities should not come out of nowhere as a surprise to the people who built them.

Shiro looks so happy to see the Lions attacking the Galra. He orders the Atlas to move into position to attack Sendak’s ship, but Pidge’s voice, somehow psychically projected through Green’s communication system, tells him their bodies are still on Sendak’s ship. “Amazing,” Shiro says. He’s still excited by the Paladin-Lion bond. He’s more aware of the possibilities of what that bond can do than any of the Paladins, and that’s why it’s so infuriating that the show took being Black Paladin from Shiro without any explanation. What happened to his bond with Black? The EPs and writers never cared to realize they needed to answer that.

Sanda continues fighting the Galra but gets shot in the arm. She takes out two sentries, leaving only Sendak’s subordinate, but her rifle fails. She throws it at him and tries to charge him, but she gets shot in the side before she can get to him, and she falls. She tries to get up, and the Black Lion tears through the ship, taking out the Galra. The cells are open, and Keith runs to Sanda. She tells him, “Do what I couldn’t. Save Earth,” and dies.

Keith vows, “We will.”

I wish I could feel more loss over Sanda’s death than I do. I totally get that her death is structured as a redemption for her character, but in order to feel the catharsis of that redemptive death, I need the betrayal to not be so out-of-character for her. If the show had done a better job setting up the circumstances of her decision to betray the Paladins, then the betrayal would have worked better, and, since the redemptive death is tied to the betrayal, the death then would have had more emotion to it.

Similarly, if the show had properly set up Shiro becoming Captain by having a thorough, reasonable explanation for why his bond with the Black Lion is gone, or, even if he retains that bond, something about the Atlas that pulls to him more strongly than being a Paladin, then I would be more excited about Shiro as the Captain of the Atlas. Like I’ve said, I actually really do like the Atlas, so I’m not fundamentally against the idea of Shiro commanding it.

Both these issues with how Sanda and Shiro were written are issues of the show failing to have substantive, sensible transitions in the characters’ arcs.

But it is fun seeing the Atlas launch finally. It’s also cool seeing the Paladins piloting the Lions psychically.

Two episodes remain in this season, and Sendak still is a generic villain. He could be any other Galra and the story would still work the exact same without him as it does with him. That’s definitely a weakness in this story.

So, yeah, this episode has room for improvement, but it’s still a lot better than most episodes this season.

[unto-myself-together]

Of Stories and Songs: Ch 7

A Haunted Mansion fanfic (Disney).

Author notes: So now we have come full circle here.  We've come back to the original short prompt story that I wrote way back when on Tumblr.  Now, since then, I think I've gone over and given this scene very important (but very subtle) changes.  And Solomon Gracey did end up changing from the original person I had him be.   Also this chapter.  Took.  Forever.  To complete.  It doesn't help that it seems to be the longest so far.  Eventually, I did have to just cut it at some point, because it just didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon.   Lots more references to Haunted Mansion myth/lore and media.  I think one of the most important is the sailor aspect of it.  The original story idea the Imagineers had was to write sort of a pirate tale, which some say is the reason for the ship weather vane attached to the Disneyland mansion as well as a certain blocked off tunnel.  And so, I did very much plan for/liked the idea putting a more sea-worthy, sailor-y aspect to the story.  It's interesting to note that ships of about this time period (late 19th century) had both engines and auxiliary sails (in case the engines failed, mostly).   It remains to be seen whether sailors in the late 19th century shipping industry had accents, but I thought that, perhaps, since this character has likely seen many sights and was practically raised off of the sea that he'd have some unique way of speaking.   Speaking of which, though, I didn't quite realize that the song from Pirates of the Caribbean 4 was an actual song from way back in the 17th century (guesstimate).  Nobody knows for sure how old it is, because like most folk tunes the origins are unclear.  It was collected by a man in the late 19th century, and published in a book alongside other folk songs and sea shanties.  He didn't create the song, simply collected it.   Finally, I would like to take this time to dedicate this chapter to my friend, Majora.

@majora-the-trekking-hobbit

Reasoning is partially because of a...erm...particular character that shows up here.  But also because of all the support you've given me and this story!  Thank you for always reblogging, and thank you for always taking the time to listen to me and give me advice! I really appreciate it!   Art references used: Staircase:http://www.doombuggies.com/secrets_conservatory.php https://themeparkuniversity.com/disney/disneys-haunted-mansion-man-spiderweb-real-hoax/ https://hauntedmansion.fandom.com/wiki/Endless_Staircase Hattie:https://www.usatoday.com/story/travel/2015/07/15/disneylands-hatbox-ghost-mystery-solved/30216909/ https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS720US720&biw=1293&bih=665&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=yAuDXI2SD-vK5gLxtLPoAw&q=haunted+mansion+hatbox+ghost&oq=haunted+mansion+hatbox+ghost&gs_l=img.3..0j0i5i30l2j0i24l2.43127.44878..44976...0.0..0.210.1061.6j3j1......1....1..gws-wiz-img.......0i8i30j0i30.9t6rb10BpQM#imgrc=zew4FFwUqtcCOM: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hatbox_Ghost Cape (because I needed extra help with how to fold it): https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS720US720&biw=1293&bih=665&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=GAyDXLGEDIfZ5gKeoZjgDQ&q=assassin%27s+creed+cape&oq=assassin%27s+creed+cape&gs_l=img.3..0j0i8i30l8j0i24.120121.124788..125000...0.0..0.93.1629.22......1....1..gws-wiz-img.....0..0i67.bP3kELME6yc#imgdii=XUa-qMHbTqdtkM:&imgrc=yAsMXH24fr3GUM: ~~~~ Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, domestic violence, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter). 

~~~

Table of Contents:

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,

Chapter 6 , Chapter 7

~~~

~~~Ch. 7:  The Fearsome Foursome~~~

~

~ My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold. -1891 collection, Real Sailor-Songs by John Ashton ~

~~~ ~~                     

                     “Good evening, Master Gracey.”

The Ghost Host politely responded.

“Don’t give me that.  You know precisely that my evening cannot possibly be good with you banging about the house.  Must you ruin my reading?” Karen shifted back; the floor beneath her creaked.   Solomon caught sight of her cowering against the wall, and he stared at her dispassionately.   “Who is this?” He scowled, and it made him look all the terrifying because it gave an impression that he held no sympathy for her. “A mortal?  Damn it, man. How many times must I tell you to stop letting mortals inside?! Get her out of here, now!”     “With or without her companion, who seems to have been…mislaid?” 

The man spun round, away from her, and stared at the empty void, the source of the voice, and the air seemed to shift dangerously around him.

“You’ve lost track of one of them? You’ve done that on purpose, haven’t you?!”              “Perish the thought. I’m sure they can be reacquired.               I’ve heard some of the vases in the west end shattering.     Perhaps it’s them lugging their…hmmm shaken physical presence through                                                      the halls….”

Everything fell into an uneasy, unsettling stillness. “The west end…vases…you mean the burial urns?” Somehow, the anger that seethed off of the man was palpable, much like a thick fog permeating the air.  Only it was a weighted sensation and not a physical appearance.   “The burial urns?  Where my mother’s burial urn resides?”  

She could swear she could feel a rumble coming from the house, as if the floorboards had responded to his words. Underneath her palms, the wood began to tremble.   “Breaking the burial urns?! You..You!  Breaking the west end vases!  Oh I’ve no doubt those urns are breaking, but it isn’t the mortal breaking the urns, now is it?!  You vile, disgusting twisted little demon!” The man spat, and if anger had been a liquid she had imagined that it would have come spilling from his mouth straight to the floorboards with the way he spoke.                “Come now. I can’t imagine why you would care…”  

The voice purred in a low tone.                               “It’s just a speck of dust.                                  And after all….                    You never were that well acquainted with her anyways…” 

That was the wrong thing to say that was the wrong thing to say That was the wrong thing to say.   She wanted to scream at the Ghost Host, but she was quite sure he wouldn’t listen because his voice sounded far too pleased with himself.

The shaking had abruptly gone silent.  Solomon Gracey stumbled back a moment, before his clenched, shaking fist mimicked the tremors.  And the rumbling began anew, only this time it was STRONGER. “Care to repeat that statement, sir?”

The various vases and objects that scattered the halls seemed to dance and jump; some of them even floated in midair. Every breath she took became almost painfully heavy, as it had seemed that the air had availed itself of logic and chose to be swept up in some invisible gathering vacuum.                                    “Now, now.                          Think of all the priceless objects you yourself                                      are on the verge of throwing.”   Master Gracey did not appear swayed, and Karen wasn’t willing to stick around any longer.  It was getting far too difficult to breath, and she wasn’t exactly sure she knew what was happening to the hallway.  She lunged for the nearest door, practically tripping through it as it swung open.   And instantly fell into darkness.   Not just fell though; she rolled.   The room before her apparently wasn’t flat or level at all, and the act of falling through the door caused her to tumble down, down down. Until she managed to catch hold of a piece of wood and cotton.   Her legs were dangling, a frightful change in orientation that left her clinging to the wood and cotton by hands alone.

She could hear the door swing close, and a whispering echoed off the halls before the room began to brighten.  Candelabras quite near to her up on a pedestal inexplicably came aflame, and she dared to look behind and below. Staircases. Staircases as far as the eye could see. Going up, going down, going sideways, going upside-down.  Any which way you looked, with no rhyme or reason or even a contextual explanation for why there was a gigantic, chasm-like room full of staircases.   Her eyes grew wide to see it, and grew wider still when she felt the lifesaving wood she clung begin to creak and give way.   She was apparently on a staircase too, albeit a decrepit one that was torn off into a sheer drop.  Her legs flailed as she struggled to get back up, but she could not swing them properly to hoist herself up the sides.  Already, it took all of her strength just to hold on, and with each attempted swing she could hear the wood creaking and tearing further.   “H-Help…”  She weakly cried out towards the door.  Why oh why did the door have to close? She looked all around for another staircase to jump onto, but none of them looked close enough to make it.   The pressure of gravity and the weight it bore down on was numbing her hands.  She again attempted to hoist herself up, but only managed to get the length of her arms to cling to the wood.  A relief to her fingertips, but the muscles of her upper body still screamed at her to release. “Help!  Help me!”  She cried even louder, hoping to attract the attention of either of the two bickering ghosts.  Or any ghost at all.  But only the echoes of her own voice came back to haunt her.   Were they just going to leave her?  Did they care?  Did they even notice she wasn’t in the hallway anymore? She was quite sure that the Ghost Host wouldn’t care, but that man, Solomon, too? The wood bent further underneath her, and the resulting lurch held a tone of finality that she was forced to acknowledge.  

….. This was it, wasn’t it? This was how she died.   She tried to keep her eyes from watering up as she thought about Michael.  He was already dead, wasn’t he?   If he survived that fall, he likely had to deal with a lot of the same stuff she did.  It would be just like that Ghost Host to string her along on a thin thread of hope.   She tried another swing to hoist herself up, but wood bent again in a dangerous direction and she was frightened to continue, even as her arms were getting exhausted.   Her parents.   Her parents didn’t even know she was here.  They were off on vacation visiting relatives in New York and wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow.  What would they do when they came back and she wasn’t home? Would they even know where to look for her? Tears streaming down her face, they fell off her chin to the deep chasm below.                             This was how she died, wasn’t it?

The tears were making her eyesight blurry.  The door in front of her, out of reach, taunting her with safety, started to wiggle in her vision.   Bright and murky to her tear smudged eyes.   “Please help….”  Her cry was even weaker now.   The strain of holding up her own weight. Feet dangling below.   The crackling of wood underneath her arms.   

                                         Crack.                                             No. Nothing to lose now, she swung herself again.  The wood bent once more.                                         CRACK.                                          Please! One tip of her foot managed to make contact with the top of the wood she clung to.  She tried to maneuver it so that she could use it as a hook to get the rest of hers--                                          SNAP!            The light of the candles moving further and further….away….                                Tears falling upwards.                              Stomach dropping down.                           Arms wildly reaching around.                                        Something.                                        Anything.                                             .... .                                     …Nothing… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                              Falling Falling Falling.                                 We all Fall down.                           A little teeny tiny speck.                                 In a Giant Well. The girl fell faster than expected.                             Gravity is so funny, isn’t it? Just before her body struck the ground, a flash of light came.                                Funny, funny, Gravity. And the girl was held, suspended and unconscious.  Her tiny mortal frame, still breathing, looked so small against the majesty of the never ending stairs.                      Here it is.  You’ve hit rock bottom, child. And the flash of light coalesced to wrap around the cut of her figure.  

Floating. Glowing. She lay there. Inches from the ground…. ….But it would not be the ground for long. For the light twisted her around; the orientation of the staircases was too lopsided.   Indeed, she was not facing the floor at all.  For she had fallen upwards. She had just avoided the fate of becoming a splat on the ceiling.   Another flash of light, this time pulsating.  With each rhythmic spurt, the light turned into the shape of a spider’s web.   And the girl like a fly in its center.

                         Foolish mortals they say.  Foolish mortals.                                  Why am I here again?                                   What was I doing?                        Foolish mortals.  The sound of the sea.                                Gentle waves, gentle.                                     I smell a rat.                              Wiggling up the stairs.                                       No. Not a rat.                                      A gentleman.                                      Who is that?                                       Good man.                                   Very nice man.                                      I like him.                            Oh, I like him.  He can pass.                                Sheep and shepherds.

A man appeared.  Or rather, a figure materialized.  Out from the wind of the hallway, his head, then his body, then his arms. Bent over, he walked with a cane.  Even in spite of the fact that his legs had yet to appear.

                                   There was a crooked man.                                  He walked with a crooked cane.                                    But everybody loved him.                                     Just and all the same. On his head was a top hat.  In his ghostly smile, a gold tooth. A cane in one hand.  And in the opposite, a box.   He raised the box up like a lantern as he came to the chasm that was filled with the staircases.   And he tapped his cane.  Once.  Twice.   The floating mortal’s body jerked in mid-air, another flash of light scattering and breaking the glow that had held a tentative spider web pattern.  The body fell a few feet to where he was, before stopping again in mid-air right before it hit the ground.   The man leaned forward, as if to inspect the mortal’s face, before letting out a grumble.  In a swoop of his cape, he turned to go back down the hall whence he came from.  And the unconscious body of the mortal floated along behind him akin to being pulled by invisible balloon strings.   Down, down the hall, the unconscious mortal in tow. ~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Babbling and gurgling as it trickled along; it was a delight to hear the river and give herself a reprieve from the nightmares of the house.   That’s why she came here…That’s always why. Her voice was carried along with the sounds of the water, just as the leaves were swept up in the current.   She sang low enough that any passerby would have to strain to listen in, but that likely wasn’t even necessary.  The little open space among the density of the trees wasn’t something people were likely to look for to begin with. And her emerald green uniform would surely provide camouflage at any rate.   Her voice was wordless.  It was just tones, going from high to low in whatever fashion pleased her.  And she had loosened her hair so that the blond locks hung around her face like a curtain protecting her from the outside world.  The tears would come to fall behind them. She sung of the pains of the day.  She sung of what she would have to face should she return. She sung to escape. A bit of peace, a bit of paradise, a bit of comfort, a bit of calm. It would not last forever. Singing her life away in that glade. But in that moment, she sang for herself, even if it was just to bemoan the inevitability that she would have to stop. “They’ll take yer offer, you know.” Her voice caught off in a startle, and she turned to see a man beside her. The weathered state of his skin suggested long hours working in the sun and made him look older, but there was a certain youthfulness about his eyes that suggested he was perhaps only a handful of years away from her own age.   He smiled rather good-naturely and openly, even as his back was bent over in an uncomfortable state and he leaned heavily on the gnarled cane in his hand. “Is this spot taken?”  He asked with humor, nodding to the very empty surroundings beside her, “Or would you wish me to leave you be?” “You….are more than welcome to it, sir.  I cannot stop you.” “But you can say ‘no’, miss.  And I’ll honor that and be off with myself.  Though not before I compliment the owner of the very pretty voice that I happened to come upon while looking for a spot meself on the river…”  He had a strange accent about him. 

“You come here often, then, sir?” “Aye.  To fish.” “You’re a fisherman?” “Used to be more than that.  I was a sailor once.  But I’m content to dabble in what fish I can sell now.” “What happened?”  She asked, a glance towards his crooked back. “A storm we happened upon, and one of the riggings broke and snapped me back as I tried to secure our cargo.  Cargo ended up securing me; right on the deck I was pinned.  Neither my leg nor my back have ever been a right straight since.”

“That sounds so awful.  I’m so sorry…” But he waved her apology away. “It’s all right.  My ol’ Captain gives me a stipend now.  For bravery and the loss of my good work, and on the account that I’m young.  Can’t do much anymore, but the fishing helps.  And I can still manage to go out on the water a bit whenever I get lonely for the open sea.  The adventure of it.” His eyes glistened.  “I may not be the richest in the world, but I count my stars every day that I’m alive.  And I’m happy where I’m at, and that’s really all that matters, isn’t it?” “Yes…”  She agreed, solemnly going back to staring at the river.  Before she realized he was still standing.   “Oh! Won’t you sit?  That must be painful.” “Now is that what you want, Miss?  I ask again, because I am not one to intrude upon a lady if she means to have a private moment to herself.  And I didn’t mean to disturb you if that’s really what you came out here for.” Her eyes snapped to his at this.  His chocolate brown eyes softening as she did, and they proved that he was genuine in his statement. People usually didn’t ask her what she wanted.  Raised as a servant all her life, kept in that house all her life, it wasn’t really a concept that she was used to.  It was hard to maintain ‘privacy’ or any semblance of independence when you had to share a room with three other girls, and were at the beck and call of others.   “I want...I want you to join me,” She said. ”Please.  And, perhaps, tell me what you meant before.  That they would accept my offer…who is ‘they’?” “The mermaids, of course,” He said, grinning at her as he carefully settled down with his good leg going first.   “They’ll come to ya, lured by the singing.” “I thought they were only out on the ocean.”  She smiled back at him.  The thought of mermaids never crossed her mind.  She wasn’t even sure if she believed in them, but the man’s smile was infectious.  And his relaxed air about him as he spoke was addicting. “No no, miss.  Sure, they love the open sea air better, but they’re just as likely to be spotted in the rivers.  Anytime you see a glint of scaly tails that looks too big to be a fish…and beautiful hair that’s too impossible to belong to a human….That’s when you’ll know.  Mermaids about in these waters.” “And they’ll come to me to eat me, right?  I’ve heard stories about their appetites.” “Appetites they have in spades, true.  But it’s for sailors like meself or pirates that they’re most brutal.” He patted his chest. “Don’t completely blame them none either; a right lot of us ain’t always the pleasant sort.  But for the young ladies who sit so mournfully, they’ll come to you and say so sweetly ‘Why, what a lovely voice you have!  And how sad you look!  Will you tell us whatever is wrong, that we might fix it?’” Here she gave a smile both sad and amused, because he had clearly noticed her distress and thought to ask about it in a roundabout method with a little story.   “I’m a servant in a household…” She paused, thinking to edit out too many details.  He was a stranger.  “The eldest son of the master has been making things…difficult for me.  He asks for things I do not wish to give. And I cannot garner sympathy from the other servants because they all either lecture me or shun me.  I feel alone.” 

The man was silent.  She looked over at him to see him pensively staring out into the water.  The river bubbled along the banks where they sat. “Well,” He said, flashing her a kind smile. “I suppose the mermaids would say then ‘Come away come away with us!  We’ll take you down to the depths of the sea, and none will be able to reach you!’” She laughed, a noise that was nearly unknown to her at that point.  “But I would drown!” “Not so!  The kiss of the mermaid would give you the lungs of a fish, and you could wander the depths at will!  And they may do more than that, and grant upon you the chance to join among their immortal selves.  To swim freely through the ocean, and have all the reefs as your personal boudoir, and to dance among the dolphins as they leap into the sky!” He accented this note with a hand waving stretching into the heavens. “And then…” he continued. “You needn’t ever come back.  Or, if the thought fancies you, you could return and unleash torment upon the young man of your former master.  He will never know peace after hearing the siren’s song of the mermaids!” As his tale grew more wild and fanciful, she couldn’t help but giggle along to it.  It sounded like the sort of story of her girlhood dreams, all the fairytales she grew up with.  And she couldn’t help herself but to continue playing along.   “Oh but I couldn’t!  If the lovely mermaids would have me, I would be far too busy making friends with the fish and the whales.  And learning about all the ocean life.  Or perhaps simply gazing upon the waves as they crash on the shore.” But her smile faltered, and the solemnity returned a bit.   “Besides which…I don’t think I could stomach taking revenge.  Even if he is a beastly man at times.  I suppose that makes me weak willed, doesn’t it?” “Not at all.  I think that shows a strength of character.  Few others would even hesitate; don’t judge yourself by their standards.” He touched her very gently at the shoulder, so much so that she thought she imagined it at first.  But when she went to turn, it was clear he meant to attract her attention. “Even if you were not to return for the sake of revenge,” He repeatedly tapped his chest with a single finger with a sheepish demeanor, “Won’t you take pity on this poor fisherman, and perhaps return to show him all the best spots to catch his favorite striped bass?” And she laughed again, this time more freely and warmly as he grinned from ear to ear. “Of course, of course sir! And you will never go a day without a full boat or a full stomach!” “Aha!”  He cried, and he held his cane to the sky like he’d proudly pulled Excalibur itself from the waters, “And I shall be wealthy!  Wealthy in fish, that is!” He laughed alongside her, the two of the chuckling more like school children than the young adults they were.  As they sat, leaning on each other for support, by the banks of the river. “…My name is Emily…” she said, as she continued to lean on his shoulder, not caring at all for impropriety in that moment. “May I ask yours, sir?” “Roland is the name, miss.” He said, making no move to push her off nor to take advantage of it.  “Although folks always call me ‘Rolly’…”                                                 “Rolly…” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything ached.  Her head, her arms, her legs.  Her vision was blurry, but it became clearer as she attempted to sit up and gaze her surroundings.   The actual attempt at sitting up, however, failed.   She flopped back onto whatever soft thing she awoke on, a new ache of pain accompanying her back.  Whatever did she do to cause this? Where was she? She remembered a river.   …..No.  That wasn’t her.  That was someone else.   ….That was another memory. And a hazy one, at that; she knew enough to recognize Emily as the one crying, but the man remained a bigger part of a mystery.  He seemed so eerily familiar, yet the image of his appearance could not stay in her attention and blurred out like the remnants of a recently forgotten dream. A more comforting dream than she was willing to admit; though she ached, she felt calm.   Complete calm.  At peace with herself.   But her backtrack through her own memories brought with it a steady uneasiness.  She remembered that she was in a mansion, but she couldn’t remember the last thing she…. The fall!

Karen shot up in place, newly wide eyed, hands grasping around for purchase. She grabbed more soft things, her brain finally starting to wake up enough to register that she was laying on an old, but clean looking, mattress.   A mattress on top of an old brass bedframe, a bundle of blankets piled on top of her explaining the warmth.  Now that those selfsame blankets were removed from her upper half, she got a sense of how truly freezing it was.   The cold was turning the gears in her head.   If there really was life after death, how did you know if you’ve already died? She frantically grabbed at her own wrist, and was rewarded with a strong but quickened pulse.  The remnants of spider bites still layered over her hands.  She painfully pinched one of them to the point where a tiny drop of blood oozed out.  Those were the telltale signs…right? A sigh of relief left her lips, and settled down under the blankets for a moment.  Her aching limbs and even her head were starting to feel a little bit better, as if the little bit of movement eased her body back into remembering how to work.   She wondered what part of the house she was in.  The room was slightly illuminated with a bluish-green glow.  And all around her were piles of…the best way she could describe it was “junk”.  There was junk everywhere.  Old trunks, old books scattered about, chairs, wicker baskets, vases, tableware, small statues and figurines, model boats, and portrait frames without any portraits in them.   Her chest heaved as she took in a deep breath as she nuzzled the pillow.  There were no Ghost Hosts to pester her, no memories currently assailing her, no creepy statues chasing after her, no dark chasms full of staircases to fall into.  The bed, even though it sadly was not her bed, brought with it a sense of complete peace.   She could get used to this.   There was a gentle scratching sound in the room.  She had ignored it until now, but her thoughts had come full circle and began to wonder how she had gotten in this bed. Surely, someone had put her here.   And that, perhaps, they were still in the room with her.   The bed dipped and creaked as she slowly rose.  Her body was mostly better, but her arms still hurt.  The result, no doubt, of hanging on for dear life not too long ago.   The chill in the air forced her to take one of the blankets and wrap it around herself like a cape before she made her way through a tentative path marked through the junk piles.  In a different setting, back in Mr. Vance’s shop, she’d have loved nothing more than to go through all of these old things and admire them.  Perhaps even wonder about their histories.   But now she wondered if touching things was partially to blame for all the memories she’d been seeing.  She wondered if she would not cause herself more grief than it was worth to trudge through mountains of books or a pile of…

….Boxes…. She stopped at the boxes.  Unusually shaped boxes…like luggage. They must have had a specific purpose, since they all looked similar, but she didn’t know quite know enough about travel history to be able to place what they were for.   But one of them… …looked just like the strange fishing tackle that Mr. Mortimer always carried. She heard shifting nearby, she was getting closer to the glow, and she looked around the corner to find… A man with no head. She stumbled back into boxes, partially tripping on the blanket.  In spite of all the creepy things she’d seen so far, this was still a sight she hadn’t been expected.   The headless body was clothed in what looked like a buttoned down sailor’s raincoat, with a high collar cape paired over it.  An overly fancy top hat hovered in midair above the blank space where a head ought to be.  And the whole being was glowing in dull blues and greens.   

Her noisy retreat apparently caught the attention of the headless man, or it would be assumed to be the case, for he stopped wilting a stick of wood and straightened up. “Awake, are we?” The voice caused her to shriek and back away from the boxes she’d just stumbled into.   There was a head in one of them, shining with such a strong, green light that the box itself may as well have been made of a see-through material.  Perhaps it was.   The head chuckled at her reaction, and the whole box toppled over to roll across the floor towards the body.   Denying physics, the box and its contained head roll jumped as it reached its destination, the degree of spin it displayed was just enough so that the handle of the box easily snagged the waiting hand of the body.   Box in hand now, the body took a few steps towards her, the head disappearing from the box only to reappear moments later atop the pair of shoulders.  The ghost giving her an all too familiar gold toothed grin all the while.   Now that the two were reunited, and she had a moment to fully look at him… “…Mr….Mortimer…?” “Aye, young’un.” She did a double take.  Looking from his newly completed self, all green and bluish see through glow, to the box he held.  She recognized it as the very same box he often used as fishing tackle. Her mouth agape, she took in his extremely skeletal, glow-y appearance. “What….you…you can’t be dead!” “Oh?  Am I not?” He said, clearly amused as he made a show of examining his own arms. “We just talked to you this evening!  You…You were alive just this evening!”   “A lot can happen in a few hours, young’un.”  He said, completely stoney-faced. “Did you…did you die since then?  It wasn’t of old age was it?  It can’t be.  You don’t look more than 40—“ “Thank you kindly,” He said, this time with a smile and even greater amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Who killed you then?! What happened?!  It was that Ghost Host, wasn’t it—“ He raised a hand to stop her. “Young’un, it was a joke.  Believe you me, I’ve been dead since long before you were even born.” It took her a few seconds to process those words. “But…..but you were alive…” She said again, softly this time, as she stared off at nothing in particular. “Was I, young’un?  Or did I just look alive?”  

She attempted, again, to think this through.  He still glowed with an unearthly light, and she realized she could count ribs underneath the sheen of the raincoat.  He was like a skeleton.  A talking, walking skeleton in clothing.   “…I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?  Or maybe I’m dead.   I-I’m dead…I…I-I-I really fell to my death off that staircase, and now my body is just lying there, or maybe it’s just gone splat and there’s nothing left but a bunch of c-cracked bones and blood an-“ “--Young’un, you’re not-” He stepped forward, and she stumbled back.   He raised his hand again, but this time it was a gesture of surrender.   “It’s all right, young’un.”  In spite of the skulled visage, she could still see traces of the Mr. Mortimer she knew.  It was there in the way he now looked at her; full of concern and consideration. “It’s all right,” He said again, softer now, “You aren’t dead, and I’m not gonna hurt you.  I’m no different than all the times you’ve seen me before.  You just know a bit more about me, that’s all.” Again, the gears in her head tried to work themselves around this.  All those moments she’d seen him in town.  All the people he’d talked to.   “You’re dead…All this….all this time…?  The.  The people.  In town…” “Been doin’ this for decades now.  Not always here, you see.  Every forty years or so, I’ve had to go the town over to make sure no one got too suspicious that I hadn’t died off yet.  Age myself here and there so I look like I’m gaining years like everyone else.  I fancy I put on a right good show; no one ever questions whether that ol’ fisherman stumbling around is alive.” He gave her a winning grin.   “Although I reckon it’s pretty common to assume anyone and everyone who can stumble around is alive, eh?”  He said. Her mouth went dry as she looked back up at him. “All the…all the times I sat by you while you fishing at the river...a-and you would tell me stories…” His smile disappeared as he nodded solemnly.  “Yes….I was dead all of those times, too.” Her head was spinning.  She felt betrayed, but for reasons beyond her grasp or understanding.  He had felt cold all those times she had been near him.  Cold to the touch, cold in his presence, cold just by looking at him; those inexplicable feelings were beginning to make sense. And something else clicked. “…That was you in the memory…” “That was what now?” “You’re Rolly…Rolly Mortimer…Is that…?  That has to be…Your full name.  And you were by the river.  Emily Slater,” She said, facing him fully, the anxiety replaced with a strange sort of excitement as she regained the energy to stand. 

Flickers of emotion consumed his face, but they settled on furrowed concern. “Emily…How did you come by that name?” She shifted uncomfortably.  “I’ve been seeing strange things.  Ever since I came here. I don’t know.  They’re kinda like funny daydreams.  And bits of info just sort of pop into my head all the time…” His concern wearied off into contemplation.  “Daydreams, you say?  And do they happen a lot whenever you happen to touch something?” She nodded glumly.  “Especially this.” Her hand almost automatically went straight for it; the ring in her jacket pocket. She had to stop herself and overturn her jacket instead.  Guilt tripped her a little as the ring tripped out onto the floor. “Sorry, I just.  I just don’t want to-“ “Touch it.  I know.” Whatever he was thinking, it was certainly emotional.  The profound sense of sorrow in his eyes laid bare the reasons for his slow reluctance to set aside his box and pick the ring up.   “Is it yours, Mr. Mortimer?” He did not say anything immediately, but turned the ring over in his hand admiring its every facet.   “….No, it is not.  It belonged to Emily’s mother, and it was the only thing she had left to remember either of her parents by.” He tenderly put the ring into a hidden compartment in one of the old dressers nearby.  His gaze still entranced enough to stare at the dresser.   “I will have to...I will have to try and return to Emily when I get the opportunity…” That peaked Karen’s interest…and she couldn’t understand why.  It felt like an urge, much like all of the strange emotions and images that had been assaulting her up until this point. “Is Emily here?  In this house?” Mr. Mortimer paused.  “She…is present in the house, yes.  But…” “….Is….there something wrong with her…?” Mr. Mortimer stood staring at the dresser he’d put the ring in.  Silently, he was shaking his head.  Shaking his head and going to fetch a gnarled old cane from nearby that held all the markings of being a wilting project itself.   “It doesn’t matter much, young’un.  We aren’t likely to meet her at this time of night, so you needn’t get your hopes up too much.  Besides, she’s not…” A wince of sorrow. “…She isn’t quite able to have visitors.  She doesn’t respond much to any of us who knew her in life, she’s not likely to respond to a stranger.” “Is she like the ghost that I met that was stuck in the wallpaper?” “…One of the Wanderers…” “Wanderers?” He grumbled.  “Now see here, young’un.  Unlike some people ‘round here, I don’t mind too much the questions.  It’s only natural to be curious.  But that don’t change the fact that you have no business being here in the first place.” He lifted his cane and waved it in the air alongside his scolding.  Never hit her, never touched her, but the way it danced it was clear he was a little peeved about this.  And, for her part, she felt a little guilty.   “I did tell you, didn’t I?  I warned you not to go off and follow Nell home!  And just what did you do, hmm?”  His cane settled down again and he gave her a hard stare. “B-but we didn’t!  At least, not really…” She thought back to Michael, insisting they get out of the rain… that Nell said Tom Sawyer's Road was said to be a faster.... Wait.  We. 

Michael! “We indeed.  I’ll take a gander and assume that both you and young Michael came in here together, am I correct?” Michael!  Her face went hot as she grew very angry at herself.  How did she forget about him?  Why was her head all full of concerns about Emily and not Michael???  

Again, an eerie sensation overtook her, and nausea waved up.  It was like her own thoughts and feelings were slowly being replaced, one after the other. 

“The floorboards.”  Her voice was meek as she tried to clench her stomach against the nausea.  “We were together, but that Ghost Host pulled him underneath the floorboards and I haven’t seen him since.”   She looked over with fearful eyes, “I don’t..I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, how long I’ve been asleep up in this room. You don’t think he’s…” “Doubtful.  That wretch has been tricking mortals into coming inside for ages now, but he doesn’t often kill them.  I think he finds it part of the ‘entertainment’.  But we ought to leave right away, before he comes looking for you.  Especially if you have the ‘gift’.  This place isn’t kind to amateur psychics; there are too many of us for it to be safe…” “Wait.  What do you mean, ‘safe’?  What will….what will happen to me if I stay and be, I don’t know, ‘un-safe’?”

He paused again, as if deciding whether or not to give an explanation. “You said you met a soul who had been stuck in the wallpaper, right?” “Yeah.” “Was there anything you found a bit odd about them?” She thought about it.  “She had pale white eyes and no pupils.  And she thought I was Emily.  At least, at first she did.  After she got a good look at me, her eyes started to look more normal…” When she looked back at Mr. Mortimer, he had cautious hope in his eyes.   “She managed to see you, did she?  See you as you really are…” “What does that mean?” “Poor souls like that, they all have stark white eyes.  Like the pupils had right been stolen from them.  They’re called Wanderers.  Or Wandering Souls.  Or the Lost.  It’s all the same meaning.  They don’t immediately recognize you for a mortal because oftentimes they can’t.  Most of the time, they don’t even realize what year it is….or that they’re even dead.  Stuck in the past, some might say, and certainly not by choice.  And many of them have to relive the same old horrors of their life again…and again….and again…” “That’s….that’s horrible!  Isn’t there any way to help them or something?  Free them?”   Mr. Mortimer shook his head.  “None of us really know how to help them.  We have suspicions…” And here he looked her over with sorrowful eyes. “…But those suspicions have been met with disagreements.  And they don’t always come with permanent solutions either.  Not even the Madame, as all-knowing as she seems to be, knows exactly what to do for them.  Elsewise, I’d think we wouldn’t have any Wanderers at all.” He tapped the side of his head, next to his own eyes. “When they get their pupils back, it usually means they’re starting to see their surroundings as it is.  And we’ve managed this a few times for some of them, but they often just lose them again.  And again….and again....” Karen grew silent.   “The reason I mention them…young’un.  Is because.  If you remain, untrained, in this house where there are so many of us souls…You’ll become Lost as well…” She felt her own eyes grow as wide as saucers. “I’ll be stuck in the wallpaper??!” Mr. Mortimer opened his mouth, but that quickly spiraled into laughter.   “N-No…No…young’un.  You…You still got a body...Bodies can’t go off and melt themselves into walls, ya know…” He settled down into a cough. “But it’s your mind you ought to be concerned about.  If you keep on like this, having everyone’s feelings and thoughts going through your head, you’ll eventually start to think they’re yours.  You’ll start to forget stuff about yourself and start to ‘remember’ stuff about some of the souls here.  And with nearly a thousand of us…well…you’ll be right swallowed up like a boat capsizing out in a storm.” “And I’ll…be someone else?  I’ll forget myself …forever?” He gave her a kind smile and shook his head. “No, not forever.  Mortal psychics have an advantage here; you’ve got a body still.  That alone can help anchor you to the present in ways that we can’t.  Mortals don’t get Lost for long, but that may require that they’re removed from us souls so they can recover…” “But if I’m not!  If I end up trapped here.  A-and I get Lost…” “Now don’t you go and worry about that.  There’s a whole crowd of us here in this one single house; someone would find you and let you out.  It’d be impossible for you to go unnoticed.”

“If I’m found by someone nice, you mean…” Karen said bitterly, thinking back to the Ghost Host. “Most of us are a right sort.  A lot of the nasty fellows are locked up nice and tight; ya shouldn’t come across any of those.” “But what about the Wanderers?” “Wanderers are a right fright to a mortal, I imagine, since it can be hard to understand why they do what they do.  There off in their own little world; can be hard to figure out what they’re planning next and how to react.  But they’re not scary on purpose.  Not vicious.” He went to go and grab his box.

“And they’re mostly harmless.”  He said, “In all the century I’ve been here, never known one of them to kill a mortal.  And never known them to hurt one on purpose either.  Accidental injuries we’ve had, often cause the mortal’s busy scrambling to get away, but never death.  Which is about twenty less than what I can say of the Host.” “The Ghost Host killed twenty people?”  Her mouth felt dry. “That I’m aware of.  Won’t be surprised if he’s killed more and did off with the evidence.”  

“But why do you—“ “Now young’un.  We’ve got to get you home and find poor Michael.  We can’t spend all night talking here.”  Mr. Mortimer motioned for her to follow as he began to hobble his way out of the room, a cane in one hand and his box in the other.  “You’re both gonna need to get home, and the sooner the better.” She willingly followed him into the dark hallway, still burning with questions, but just was desperate to find Michael.   The unearthly glow he gave off lit the way, and illuminated floorboards full of dust and cobwebs.  She was just about to question him some more when the door slammed shut behind her on its own and she visibly jumped some feet into the air.   “Sorry.” He said, looking genuinely guilty. “I’m so used to being free to do that here that I clean forgot you’re probably not.” He just opened up a million other questions related to how ghosts manipulated physical objects, but as they began their trek down the hall she went with something she was most concerned about. “Why do you all let a murderer free like that to torment…erm….m-mortals?  What happens if he decided to go into town??? You’ve been to town, so he should be able to leave too, right?”

“That fellow is only free on the account that he’s one of the four most powerful in the whole house.  Otherwise, I tell you, Young’un, he’d be locked up just as much as the other malicious souls.  But the Madame likes him free, and I can’t be damned to know what goes through that woman’s head sometimes.” His cane clacked against the floorboards with each swing. “And yes, he can go into town.  But he doesn’t like to do so, and I can’t be damned to know what goes through his mind either.” The dark gloomy hallways looked a lot like all the ones she’d seen before; stretched out and going on for miles.  Yet it was remarkable how much friendlier it felt walking beside someone she knew who had their own built in flashlight.  Who was their own built in flashlight.   “Who are the other four?” “The Fearsome Foursome.”  He gave a snort, “There’s the Madame Leota; I believe I’ve mentioned her before.  She’s was a powerful psychic in live, and an even more powerful one in death.  That damnable wretch, the so-called ‘Ghost Host’.  There’s also meself.  And Mr. Solomon Gracey.  Any one of us is a match for the other, or so they say.” “Then…then you could drive off the Ghost Host?  I don’t have to deal with him anymore??”  Safety.  Real safety.   And she felt so much relief, even just thinking of it.  The Ghost Host not even being able to touch her.   “Normally I could… And I would…”

He gave her a sideline look of stern disapproval. “And he is exactly the reason why I didn’t want either of you coming ‘round here…” She winced and gave a half smile as an apology. He continued walking.  “…But I don’t think you have a know-how into how much effort it takes to go into town like I did all this afternoon and evening.  In here, the Madame’s power helps with making us…you know.” He waved his cane hand up and down his form to draw attention to it.

“Look like something.”  He said. “Out there, you’re left to figure yourself out.  Put up a complicated illusion that gets people thinking you’ve got a body like them; solid and everything.  Takes the wind out of you, even after all these years of practice.  May not have a body anymore, but can still tire out; remember that, young’un.  So we best be avoiding him, just in case.” As they reached the length of the hallway, he opened up an old door with a gargoyle statue framing the top of it.  Even in the gloomy darkness, she could see a set of stairs going down.  Giant spider webs stretched from one end of the stairway to the other, and her queasiness returned to see what looked like a pair of eyes staring back at her.                                The house was still watching.

[purplesurveys]

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You struggle to walk in heels. Nah, I love heels. Even if a certain pair is a bitch to wear, I’d try to power through and I’d wanna look like I’m killing it wearing them. You talk on the phone a lot. Yes, but with just Gab. We call each other up most days. You consider yourself to be pretty extroverted. I can be! Getting to college definitely taught me how to like talking to people more and I have no problem with initiating conversations or doing small talk these days. I’d consider myself like 90% extroverted; the remaining 10% is for those times I still prefer to have all to myself, which is a part of me I know I’ll never lose. You know how to sew. Nah, home ec lessons can fuck right off. I’ll leave the sewing and crocheting skills to my girlfriend. You know how to play a woodwind instrument. Does the recorder count? I mean I think almost everyone can play it as it’s a super basic instrument, but still.

You swear a lot. It’s a habit. I do choose the people I swear around though; I wouldn’t do it in front of kids or with people I’m not necessarily close with. You're a smoker. I vape. You're allergic to penicillin. I dunno. I’ve never been exposed to it, I think. Someone in your immediate family is in a wheelchair. No, no one from my extended family either. You play a lot of video games. I watch a lot of playthroughs, but I don’t play them myself because I am just terrible at them. You've never been on a train. I’ve been on a train once, and it was for an assignment and someone was with me the whole time. It was at a dead hour too, so I didn’t really get the full experience of riding a train in the Philippines. You don't like raisins. I HATE RAISINS You're not a very romantic person. I’m very conscious about PDA but I can be affectionate in many other ways. You're homosexual or bisexual. Am neither. There was one point I believed I was bi, but in the end it all boiled down to me being demisexual. Beer is your alcoholic beverage of choice. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck beer, and I’ll never get tired of saying that. Your favourite colour to wear is red. I look good in red but it’s not really my favorite color to wear. You've talked someone out of suicide. No. I wouldn’t want to be put in that situation either; not because I wouldn’t want to help, but because I’m unfit myself and I wouldn’t know if the things I would say would be helpful or just do more harm. You wear a ring on your left ring finger. I don’t. Yet. You've never had detention in school. But this is because we never adopted that concept here. Like I said, I’ve never fully grasped what detention is and what they make you do when you’re in it. Maybe someone can help a clueless Asian out here, haha. You've dated someone with a full beard. I’ve never been with a guy, and Gab doesn’t grow a beard. You have a pair of fluffy dice in your car. No, and wouldn’t want that decoration either. You've been tested for STIs. No, but I definitely should just to be sure. You've written someone a love letter. Once, three years ago. I really should do it more. Your favourite film genre is horror. I appreciate horror A LOT and at one point it was my favorite genre. It’s since been overruled by drama. You currently live in a country you weren't born in. Born, raised, and currently living in the Philippines.  You don't like wearing hats. I know they’d look cute on me but it makes me feel like people can’t see me, so I always unconsciously take them off because they feel weird. Your blood type is O+. (???) Dude, I have no idea what my blood type is. I don’t think my parents are sure either. You prefer fruits over vegetables. Nah nah nah I hate fruits. You work/have worked in a hotel. No. My parents have worked in hotels all their lives though; they met while working in the same one in the 1990s. My dad has worked in a cruise ship since the 2000s but that still technically counts as a hotel-centric workplace. You enter the lottery regularly. I never have. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend. A girlfriend. You have had sex within the last week. I mean...this is one entry I don’t need to delve more into haha. You get sick often. I never get sick and if I do the fever typically just lasts a few hours. You're close with your siblings. I’m close with my sister. I haven’t talked to my brother in months. You're a pretty paranoid kind of person. It’s part anxiety and part slightly inheriting my mother’s very real OCD problems. You prefer vanilla over chocolate. Mmmmm not really. Vanilla takes like nothing to me D: Idk if it’s meant to taste like that or if I’ve just had cheap vanilla all my life. You own a lava lamp. I don’t but I had a hipster phase when I was like 12 where a lava lamp was all I wanted. Obviously my mom never got me one cos it seemed like such a waste of money, and looking back on it nine years later, it most definitely would have been. You can't whistle. I can. You've had your stomach pumped. No. I don’t even know how that works and I hope I never need that procedure, cos it sounds complicated and terrifying. You don't use emojis when you text. I know most people get paranoid from emoji-less messages, so I kinda just do my part in making them feel better by using emojis. You remember seeing the events of 9/11 on television as it happened. I was too young to have memories from 9/11; I was three and didn’t really watch news back then. You always stay hydrated. Yesssssss. I love my water and it’s also a basic form of skincare, so. You have at least one child. No kids. Your hair is shorter than shoulder length. It’s longer than that now, but I really should give it a trim soon. You're at least 21 years old. Yay I can finally answer this with a yes! You're an opinionated person and stick to your guns no matter what. Yes, unless someone can show me a better and more critical argument. I’m open to hearing them out and reconsidering by then; but until then, I like sticking to my beliefs. You share a bed with someone else every night. I sleep alone. You know how to drive. It’s how I get around places. You're currently wearing an article of clothing that doesn't belong to you. The sweater I have on belongs to Gab, but it’s been with me for three years. You are friends with a lot of people you work with. It makes the work more enjoyable when you like the people you hang out with. :) You shower twice or more each day. It’s a no for me. Once would be enough. You're friends with your boss. JM is technically my boss, and we’re good friends. You've made your own clothes before. Never have; I’m not creative enough (or at all) for that. You have/had braces. I did, back in high school. I just had them for a year and a half. You have two or more ex partners. Nope, just the one. You have a biblical middle name. I’m sure Isabelle didn’t come from the Bible. You've cheated on someone. N e v e r. You mop/vacuum the floors in your house once a week. My mom prefers to do all the cleaning stuff around the house. You have dandruff. There’s really nothing I can say about this other than I don’t, lol. Your parents are religious people. My mom is massively religious, enough to drive me insane. I don’t get my dad though; he told me he was atheist when he was in college, he sympathizes with me whenever I grumble about our family going to mass every Sunday, and he doesn’t mind when I use my phone in church, but sometimes I’ll see him singing along to church hymns. I don’t pry though and I’m just glad he’s on my side whenever I bitch about having to sit in church for an hour. You work/have worked in fast food. I have not tried this. You live near a national park. I live very far from Luneta, which is I think the only national park we have. You're a flirty kind of person. As a demisexual, the idea of being flirty is a horrifying prospect to me. You've never dyed your hair. It would terrify my mom, plus I’m about to graduate college so it’s a little too late to experiment with hair dye now. You've been to Arizona. I have not. You listen to a lot of country music. I hate this genre. You listen to a lot of pop music. Yeah I’m a pretty basic bitch lol You exercise several times a week. Just for this semester because I’m taking PE. In fairness, our instructor is a very good coach so I’m pretty open to still continue doing the workouts once the sem ends. You can do at least 10 pull-ups. I couldn’t before, but my PE class taught me how to haha. You travel primarily by bus. I can drive, so I don’t really need to take the bus. You prefer hot weather over cold weather. Ugh noooooo I hate feeling hot. I’d rather feel uncomfortably cold all year round than uncomfortably hot and sweaty. You've never been to IKEA. We don’t have IKEA. You're more creative than you are logical. I have zero creativity in my system. You've been in trouble with the police. Not with the police per se but I’ve had traffic enforcers pull me over for various ‘violations.’ You have something more important to be doing right now. It’s 1:42 AM. That important thing I should be doing right now is sleeping, but I had coffee earlier and don’t really feel like doing that at the moment.

You share a lot of your looks/appearance with your siblings. I’m the feminine version of my brother. I’m not sure if I look anything like my sister though. You've been in an open relationship. No. And I’ll never entertain the thought. You had beef for dinner last night. I’ve skipped dinner for two nights in a row, because my toothaches are really bad :( You live with roommates. I live with my immediate family. I live fairly close to my school (close enough to be able to drive there, anyway), so I’ve never had to move into a dorm or condo. You drink alcohol at least once a week. I drink a lot whenever I get to but I only do it once a month or once every two months. You have to go to work tomorrow. Nope. It’ll be the 3rd day of my 5-day weekend, so I’ve still got a lot of time to rest up :) You have taken acting classes. Acting is so not my forte. Your favourite kind of juice is cranberry. I don’t really like juice. You lost your virginity at the age of 16. 18. You're close with your cousins. I’m close with my cousins on my mom’s side. Not so much on my dad’s, but I did play a lot with them growing up; we just became less close as we got older because they eventually moved to Laguna and I saw them less and less. You have family who live in England. I don’t think I have family living in Europe. You've had a blood test. When I was confined in the hospital when I was 11, they did several blood tests on me to check my platelet count. You know someone who has two parents of the same sex. Nah, there’s a small chance of that happening here. I wish I knew someone, though.

You know how to do karate. I never took lessons. You've never had a pet dog. I have one snoring under my bed right now. Your current partner if you have one is your college/high school sweetheart. It’s a corny term, but yeah you can call her that. You have a cool scar. (?) I’m not sure almost being blinded by a glass jar to the eye is a cool scar story to tell. You've considered joining your country's army. No. You live near a very large body of water such as the ocean or a lake. Mmm not really, I live in a very urbanized area. I’ve never experienced living close to the sea, but I imagine it would be very peaceful. You watch and follow motorsports. Never have. Your mother was under the age of 20 when she was pregnant with you. Nope, she was 26. You're allergic to some kind of vegetable. I don’t have any allergies. You hate wearing socks to bed. Yessss, it feels itchy and it feels like my skin is being suffocated hahaha so I take them off. You play a lot of board games. Nothing against board games, I just don’t play them a lot. You know someone personally who was born in Japan. That’s a good possibility, but I just wouldn’t know who. You always keep spare change handy. In a place like UP where everything is cheaper, it helps tons to keep some change. Your house has three or more bedrooms. We have four bedrooms. You weigh less than you want to weigh. I’m a little less than 100 lbs, but I do wish I was at a healthier weight because I’m underweight.

You prefer tampons over pads (if you're a female who menstruates). I’ve never tried tampons and the idea of wearing it sounds like such a horrifying prospect for me hahaha. For context, pads are the (very very dominant) norm here and I literally know 0 menstruating people who use tampons. You've had sex while menstruating or had sex with someone while they were. I’m obviously not gonna share the story on here lol but it was purely an accident and I’ve made sure it never happened again. Your parents live in a different country than you. My dad has worked in different countries my whole life, but he comes back home every few months. You've been banned from a store or other location/venue. My friends and I were kicked out of a McDonald’s once for making a lot of noise, but we weren’t banned.  You like to cook with a crockpot/slow cooker. I don’t cook. You have a clock radio in your bedroom. The only clocks I have are the ones on my laptop and phone.