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baekhyuq · 5 years ago

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“Chemistry!” Baekhyun (m)

Part One

—Word count: 2k

—Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Thriller(?), Horror

—Playlist: I never told you what I do for a living-MCR///Science Fiction-Arctic Monkeys

—Inspired by “I never told you what I do for a living by MCR, please read the lyrics for this song it will influence how you read this story.

Next >>

Can I meet you, alone

There was a wolf that sat at the edge of your property line every night. Before you went to bed you’d peer out your window to find the wolf sitting there peacefully. Each night, without fail. He received your words, your whispers of goodnight.

He would watch over you as you slept before going back into the dark woods. The wolf would go home after hours of watching you rest, he went back to his mansion. Expensive cars and big houses. His life was the opposite of yours.

The wolf was a well known chemist, creating potions for the wealthiest of humans. The humans would pay top dollar to get a hold of his creations. The wolf created profit easily because of this. One day, the wolf created a potion for him to express his urges. He downed the whole glass of it. That night he turned into a monster, he went in to the town to kill an innocent man. The man’s body was found days later; floating down the river. The clicking of the wolf’s claws on the pavement was the only thing he remembered after disposing his body in that river, the water running red from his blood. He couldn’t get the smell out of his mind, the horrid stench of his blood.

Another night and i’ll see you

The wolf went to your property line for the first time that night. He could see into your room from the line, he saw you in your pink nightgown, getting ready for bed. He watched you sleep that night, and he would come back every night from then on.

The wolf became the wolf that night. The wolf’s name was Byun Baekhyun. A well known chemist, creating potions for the wealthiest of people. Yes, the wolf and Byun Baekhyun were the same person. The wolf was the animalistic side of Byun Baekhyun that only existed for him to release his urges.

Baekhyun tried his hardest to make a potion to erase his wrong doing, to reverse the potions effects. He found no true cure.

Another night and i’ll be you

The wolf took comfort in giving into his urges and coming to watch you sleep. The wolf told Baekhyun this and Baekhyun ignored the wolf’s words. He wouldn’t get involved with the wolf’s doings. He couldn’t be wrapped up with the wolf when he was Byun Baekhyun, a well known chemist.

One day Baekhyun ran into you in a convenience store. He could practically smell you in the store. He desperately tried to avoid you, but when you were the person ahead of him in the line he couldn’t any longer.

Some other way to continue

You smiled at him, your cheeks round and full. Baekhyun getting a closer look at your face, you looked absolutely beautiful. As the wolf described you.

When you greeted him and striked up a conversation with him, he could no longer be invisible to you.

To hide my face

You already knew who Byun Baekhyun was, a famous chemist. Everyone knew him, especially with him living in such a small town. The thing about a small town is that word gets around fast, such as word about a killer being on the loose. Four people have been murdered in the town, all were from different backgrounds. You were fascinated by the killings, doing a little investigating yourself. You would go out to libraries and read up on what it takes to make a murderer. You were intrigued by the whole psychology of it all.

Byun Baekhyun was less than happy to talk to you about the deaths as you both waited in line to check out. He wondered why the wolf didn’t pick another girl to stare at through their window. Preferably a less talkative girl.

Another knife in my hands

Baekhyun notes how enthusiastic you are talking about these killings, and almost blushed when you ask if he’s interested in true crime. He gives you a mere nod.

Come on Baekhyun, get your groceries and get out. You mark Byun Baekhyun off as rude when he stops responding to you in your conversation. You pay for your items and leave, sparing him a curious glance. He’s already looking at you with dark eyes. It makes you uncomfortable.

***

Baekhyun would tell the wolf that night that you’re more beautiful than he described. But also talks too much. The wolf laughed his words off, the wolf thought you were his moon.

A stain that never comes off the sheets

The moon he looked up to at night for hours on end.

Baekhyun called the wolf silly. “You should get a different hobby...” His words teasing but truthful. The same wolf that would be out killing shouldn’t come back to some girl’s house to watch her fall asleep. What a big bad, cold hearted killer.

On a sunny day Baekhyun so happens to be out running errands. Such as going to the library to return a few books and look for more. He’s cruising through the lonely science fiction aisle when you back into him.

Clean me off

Perfect, he thinks when you squeak out a noise in response.

You apologize turning to see who you’ve hit.

“Oh, mister Byun.” You say rather coldly. Baekhyun makes note of your tone, he’s kind of offended you’re not as enthusiastic as you were at the grocery store.

“Hello.” He greets with a tight smile, you’re both scanning the same shelf of book when your hands reach for the same book. Baekhyun yanks his hand away, glancing at you. “Uhm.” He starts. “Are you reading this as well?” He’s referring to the gothic novel you’ve both reached for.

I’m so dirty babe

You nod, “It’s actually for an assignment for school. But the series is addictive so I wanted to pick it up to read.”

Baekhyun thinks for a second, let her take the book or take it for himself? After a second of thinking he reaches for the book and hands it to you. Your cheeks redden and you thank him.

The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes

“I’ll finish it q-quickly so you can read it as well.” You hold the book to your chest and mutter a goodbye before scurrying off.

I keep a book of the names and those

Baekhyun watches your retreating figure with a lopsided grin. He remembers all the books he had to read for school projects, he hated almost all of them.

You carried the book home, opening it up and reading a few chapters. The book put you to sleep almost instantly. You jolted awake at 7pm, confused as to why you woke up so suddenly. Your body stiffened as it felt as if you were being watched. The eerie feeling of the hairs on your arms standing up and the goosebumps covering your legs.

Only go so far `till you bury them

The tense shoulders and the wide eyes, the back of the throat lump that popped up with the inability to speak. The quietness of the house scared you, you looked around timidly. You peered over to your mirror, seeing your distressed state. Your hair was a mess and your shirt was wrinkled. You looked to the window, the moon was out and high in the sky. You sighed, you would have a hard time falling asleep later.

You get up and bring a change of clothes to the bathroom with you. You connect your phone to the speaker and let your music play as you shower. You take a 15 minute shower and hop out to dry off. As you dry off you noticed your clothes are no longer on the toilet seat. This raised an immediate red flag, you wrap the towel around you tightly. Your brows furrow in thought, you could’ve sworn you sat them on the toilet seat.

You slowly open your bathroom door and it creaks slightly. You step out into the hallway running toward your room, cursing at how cold it is. You find your clothes folded on your bed.

“What the fuck, I swear I took them to the bathroom.” You whisper to yourself, you’re covered in goosebumps, unsure of what to think or do.

You get dressed anyway, slipping on your panties and oversized shirt. You decide to watch a bit of television in your room, and endlessly scroll through your phone till you end up feeling sleepy. You look over to your window just as you’re about to close your eyes to fall fast asleep, you see the wolf.

So deep and down we go

“Goodnight.” You whisper to him.

“Goodnight.” He whispers to you.

The wind is howling when Baekhyun wakes up, he’s outside? In your backyard, on your property line. Exactly where the wolf slept last night.

“Agh.” He cracks his neck, standing to his feet. His body feels stiff, the wolf could’ve taken himself home before sleeping out in this weather. It was snowing, it would be harder to dispose of the bodies if the river freezes over.

Touched by angels, though I fall out of grace

He glances toward your window, the view the wolf sees every night. He sees it. You’re cuddled in your bed, your tv reflecting light onto you. Baekhyun grins a little.

“I see what you’re talking about.” He says to the wolf, as if he was listening.

Baekhyun leaves, disappearing into the woods and on his way to his home. He defrosts inside his warm mansion, his legs infront of a heater. He’s shivering from having to lay on the frozen ground all night. He should take some medicine before he falls sick with a cold so he can recover faster.

I did it all so maybe I'd live this every day

So he does, he mixes a few bottles of this a pinch of that, a table spoon of blank. And just like that he makes a medicine for his soon to be cold. He groans at the taste of it, it’s as disgusting as you would think. As he’s mopping around his house with a blanket draped on his shoulders, he wonders if you’ve woken yet.

You wake up around noon, the sun isn’t shining in your face like it always did. It causes you to look outside and see the snow that had fallen overnight. You marvel at the pure white coat that covered everything. Your eyes land on something small, you squint to see it correctly.

It’s a trail of footprints leading back to the woods.

Baekhyun sneezes, blowing his nose for the hundredth time today. He’s come down with a cold as expected. He’d have to be inhuman to not get sick after sleeping on the frozen ground. He takes his temperature, it reads 99.7. He groans in annoyance. He wants to crawl back into his bed and sleep the day away. But he has things he needs to do. He’s busy today. Should he do them later?

Another knife in my hands

He has a body decaying in his shed that the wolf couldn’t get rid of. What was he supposed to do? He’s never gotten rid of a body before. Let alone killed a man! Baekhyun opted to order the things online. But unfortunately for him, he couldn’t find any sodium hydroxide online that would be safe to order. He sucked it up and threw on his sweats and winter coat, grabbing his keys off the counter.

A stain that never comes off the sheet

Baekhyun waltzed into the store, his hood over his head. He was freezing his ass off. He got the feeling that someone was watching him, so when he turned and saw you staring at him he jumped.

“Ah, you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me.” He says, his voice nasally as ever.

You catch his sick voice and raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve gotten sick since I last ran into you.”

Clean me off

Baekhyun nods, his nose is pink along with his lips. He looks almost cute, you think. His hairs messily laying on his forehead under his hoodie. You smile up at him, his eyes are scanning around the store as he stands with his hands on his hips.

“We do keep running into each other huh?” He says as if it’s some conversation starter.

“What did you come to buy?” You ask as you draw your hands into your pockets of your fluffy coat.

Baekhyun’s gaze shoots to you, “I’m getting a few bags of sodium hydroxide. Don’t ask any questions.” He mentally kicks himself in the face for his last comment.

I’m so dirty babe

You laugh at him instead of questioning him and he’s grateful or your air-headed moment.

“Going to dispose of some bodies?” You jab him in the side.

Actually, yes.

A/N: Long time no see! It’s been almost 7 ish months since i last posted any fic i’ve written, this fic has been on hold for so long, i fell out of love with kpop for a while i’m just not getting back into it. Anime has completely taken over my life once more, but I want to open up that spot where kpop has always been. Especially for Baekhyun. This story is heavily inspired by MCR and EXO’s Obsession era! I wrote this during that era and it’s obviously been some time now since then but I still hope you can enjoy it! Please forgive me for keeping this piece from you for so long!

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number5theboy · 4 years ago

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CREATOR TAG MEME

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I was tagged by the wonderful @seance, @i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky and @ogaferoga, all of them awesome creators themselves, thank you all!

This has been a wild year, because I’ve created a lot of gifs for this blog that isn’t even a year old, and I’ve gotten to know so many sweet, wonderful people. There were many gifs to choose from, so I grouped them, because I’m very proud of my output for this blog.

The Umbrella Academy...but it is a FILM NOIR / HORROR MOVIE

I started this series that I plan on continuing, taking the shots from the Umbrella Academy and editing them to look like a certain genre. I’m especially proud of the fact that I looked up the aspect ratio of noir movies for the Noir AU gifset. This was the initial idea, but while I was working on them, I also kept imagining how I could link these visuals, and slowly but surely I developed stories as I was working on the gifs. I really like the AUs I created, and am sad that I’m not a diligent enough fic writer to be able to write them out in the way they deserve. Also really love the touch of naming the AUs through songs that are on the soundtrack, I really think that idea is neat.

The Lost Hargreeves HERE / HERE

567 is my favourite dynamic that was never truly shown in the show itself. I like Five, Ben and Vanya separately a lot, and I love the idea of them together. I’m very proud of the first gifset I ever made for them, because it shows how similar their stories are, how all of them were pushed to do monstrous things through abuse, and how they deserve better. But I also think there is so much love between them, so much gentleness. I will never be over the parallel of Vanya reaching out for Five to clean his wound after he just killed the Commission hitmen and Ben reaching for Vanya’s hand after she just massacred everyone in the FBI office. I just love this idea of someone still loving them, still reaching out for them at their lowest, at their worst, and not judging, I really adore this dynamic, and if I may say so, I kind of went off with the colouring on both.

Soundtrack Sets HERE / HERE

I adore the soundtrack of the show, and I’m a sucker for lyrics as they are used in a scene. So far, I’ve made two gifsets about the lyrics, one that is just about how some lyrics of Season 1 would have fit some of the Hargreeves siblings but weren’t used for them, and another that shows how the lyrics of songs specific to Five scenes interconnect because I love me some thematic coherence. I just like playing with words and how they fit to images, and TUA really is a show that lets me do that. I also just really like the look of the Five gifset specifically, because I really went experimental on that one, and it was fun to figure out a colour palette for it.

Misc ‘I’m proud of the technical aspects of these!!’ Gifsets

Diego & Allison dynamic: I just love the way these gifs interplay, I like the size I chose for the gifs, and although I would do the colouring differently were I to redo this gifset, I just loved making this so much because Diego and Allison have such a great dynamic.

Vissy in the barn: I love this moment, and Marin Ireland is so RIDICULOUSLY charming in the show, but this is on here because I really outdid myself with the colouring here. Soft orange and blue, and that for a scene that is terribly lit. I’m still so proud.

It’s Tough to be a God for Klaus: I am SO fucking proud of the lettering I did for this one. It looks awesome, I think the song I picked is fun and fitting, and just. The framing I did with the text. I really am happy with it, and I’m bad at lettering usually.

Team Dumbass Relationship Growth Appreciation Post: The colours I did here pop beautifully, even though I really struggled with some of them (the light in Elliott’s home?!? a nightmare). I also just loved showing their growth through this simple idea, simple quote, with the black and white gifs from S1E1 and S2E10, and I love the orange and cyan for the font. I should continue the visual with other dynamics, now that I think of it.

Five Favourite Five Gifsets of 2020

Five: The Mammoth Project: This was THE project of the year for me. I combed through all the Five scenes of Seasons 1 and 2, and picked favourite moments. I had to make cuts, as well as the decision to only do dialogue bits. I could redo this with just nonverbal acting moments, I just adore this performance that much. I worked for weeks on this set. I love the colouring I did, and I just love the range the set showcases. Aidan Gallagher is so good in this role, and this set is a love letter to the performance.

Five + Greek Mythology: This was so self-indulgent, but this gifset turned out so pretty. Five’s story reminds me very much of a Greek tragedy in its thematics, and he has so many characteristics of an archetypal Greek hero, and this was just about me concretising this idea in visuals and writing.

Five and the Handler on the Highway: This is the only gifset on here I think definitely flopped, which makes me so, so sad. I really like this moment and I love the colouring I did for it even more. The blue is so clear and so sharp and offsets the red, and the fact that this gifset hasn’t even cracked 150 notes really bums me out, because I love it a lot.

Five + MCR’s ‘Teenagers’: Good colouring! Good lettering! One of two MCR songs I know! I really had fun making it because Teenagers is such a song that would fit both Five and a Five fight scene, and so putting it over the Board massacre was a delight.

Five’s reaction to other assassin’s quitting: I just love this acting moment so much, the consistency of it all. How Aidan Gallagher just perfectly conveys this little moment of understanding, of being glad for someone else, a moment of recognition. I also love the colouring on this, the blues turned out so nice.

I feel like everyone in the fandom has already been tagged, so I’ll try out some, and if you haven’t been tagged, feel free to take this as an invitation to do this! @diazalex @catchingmydeatth @zavens @fivevanyaklaus @lilapittss, @hargreevesklaus, @hargreeves-ben @thecyndimistuff

#personal #long post

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whumper-boi · 4 years ago

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So good news, I finally finished with writing out the first prompt of the whump advant calender

OH MY FUCKING GOD I FORGOT TO ACTUALLY TAKE IT OUT OF DRAFTS AND POST IT SO ITS A DAY LATE LMAOO SORRY GUYS

(Note that they are ocs to my book I’m writing so don’t worry about spoiling or anything)

@whump-advent-calendar thank you, and this is for the first prompts

Y’all this was much longer then I thought it would be but oh well. Also, I was really out of it when I started this so forgive me cause it isn’t my best work.

Also sorry about the awkward spacing, was no one going to tell me there was a limit to the amount of spaces you could do?

**Blue- Martin’s texts

TW for mentions of non-con, mentions of child abuse, panic attacks, self deprecating thoughts, nearly freezing to death, hypothermia, paranoia, cursing, anxiety, mild(?) dissociation (like it’s written that it happened but he doesn’t remember it (obviously)), ptsd

This hadn’t happened since the thunderstorm incident. However, unlike that where he had been purposely locked outside in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm, he had come home early from a sleepover, and no one else was home.

Martin shivered, pulling his skully over the tips of his ears. After he realized that he lost his house key somewhere, he tried to call his father, but to no avail, as he was most likely still on a plane.

Majesty, his service dog who accompanied him on the walk home, nudged him gently on the leg. He sensed his distress, circling around him before standing at his side again.

Backtracking a little, Martin had gone over to one of his best friend Sadie’s house, with intentions to spend the night, but her having a surprise doctors appointment had made him decide to walk home with Majesty, (even in the blistering cold, he didn’t want to bother his friend’s parents) and lose his key somewhere in the process.

This wouldn’t be a problem if the spare was still there, but it wasn’t? He wondered if someone else brought it in and forgot to put it back.

His father, Oliver, and his father’s best friend, Nick, were both on a business trip and wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow.

He didn’t know what to call Nick, as he saw the man like another parent, but he couldn’t handle the idea of putting his trust into another adult only to be majorly fucked over again. He had been around since before Martin was born, this was true, but Molly, his mother, had also been around since he was born, and she chose his rapist over him.

So yeah, he was a little scared of letting his guard down, even if he knew Nick would never hurt him. Oliver had even made sure of this

(The two men had been telling stories about before Martin and Tristan were younger, and even before they were born.

“If we’re really reminiscing on your births, I’ll never forget when Oliver held you for the first time Mars. Mostly because your father had threatened to terminate our business partnership and friendship, and I quote, ‘cut your prick off and make you eat it’ if I ever put a hand on you.”

“I still stand by it mate,” Oliver said, cuffing Nick on the shoulder.)

And his father wasn’t really one to go back on promises, especially with Martin.

The only other person who had access to the house would be Tristan, Nick’s son and someone who was like a brother to him, but, of course, he wasn’t home, and the bitch wouldn’t answer his phone. That wasn’t a surprise though, he was probably at a house party getting slammed.

Majesty let out a small huff, nudging him in the leg again, telling him that he was going out of it again. He pet him, checking his pockets one more time before giving up.

Great, fucking brilliant. He plopped down on the stone steps leading to the front door, which were freezing, and pulled out his phone, checking for messages. None.

A gust of wind blew, making him put his phone away and curl up to try and get some feeling back into his numbing fingers and toes. It really had to be this cold on the day he decided to not wear his leather jacket.

The only thing he had to protect him from the elements was the MCR T-shirt over a black longsleeve, cargo pants that had like, seven pockets on them, Doc Marten (ha), the skully, of couse, and his headphones. Also, a ton of metal jewlrey, basically he looked like the first picture you would find if you googled “Goth looks”.

Majesty sat next to him, and he leaned into the dog, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing.

Seeing as he couldn’t do anything other than wait, he tried to get his mind off of it, by thinking about the boarding school he would be going back to in a few weeks.

The boarding school in question, was an academy for advanced people with different skills and abilities, and it wasn’t something that was easy to get into. He had gotten a scholarship for the academic part of the school, which was apparently, a very hard thing to do. They only chose the smartest of the smart, who were all adults, except for him of course.

Maybe because he had an IQ of 216, higher than everyone at the school. That seemed to raise a lot of discourse with some people who couldn’t handle the fact that a 16 year old was smarter than them.

Interestingly enough, Martin couldn’t bring himself to actually give a fuck when it came down to it, because he had the scholarship, not them.

The only person who was even close to his age was a boy named Matthew, from America. Detroit, more specifically. The two had been roommates, Matthew was in because apparently, he was a fucking amazing dancer that was scholarship worthy.

Martin hadn’t seen it, but if he got into that school it was probably mind blowing, and he would never question his ability.

Matthew had been respectful, and pretty, and he had the audacity to make Martin fall for his southern accent and obnoxiously kind words that he didn’t feel like he deserved.

He even asked him at one point.

“Well you’re a genius M, so it’s going to be lightwork for you,” Matthew said, after Martin had joked about wanting to crack the Zodiac ciphers.

“Nah, I’ll just stick to arguing with teachers and wasting away decoding video games.”

The other boy hummed. “Well, whatever you choose to do, you’re going to do good.” He put his fingers in a ‘ok’ pose, and gave a playful smirk that made him look like a meme, and then he looked up at Martin.

He couldn’t exactly tell what emotion was being portrayed on his own face at the moment, but it made Matthew’s smile drop, and he looked at him with nothing but concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, there something on my face?” he half joked, feeling it fall flat as soon as it came out of his mouth. He tried to neutralize his expression, but this only made things look worse.”

“Martin…” he hesitated. “Was it something I said?”

Yes, yes it was. He opened his mouth, then closed it, growing warm and horrifyingly, feeling tears start to well up. He had, by no means been insulted with what he said. The support and friendliness was what got to him.

The whole thing was, he had support from other people, but this felt… different. Martin felt like the people around him felt obligated to do it. Even so, he had only known Matthew for such a short time, but the american he only proved that he cared.

Maybe this was the insecurity in his brain talking, or maybe the things Seth said and did to him were finally starting to take a toll on him. He just had to know why he cared so much. Well, when in Rome right?

“Why are you so nice to me?” He asked, crossing his arms, a nervous tic that he had developed.

Matthew didn’t even look like he registered the question. “I’m...not?” What? If that wasn’t being nice then what was it?

As if the other boy could hear his question, he added: “I’m just treating you with basic decency? Like, anyone with an ounce of empathy should do.” Martin stared at him.

But holding the door? Not once telling him to shut up at his long rants? Waiting for him at the top of the stairs when he made it up first? His friends did the same, and so did his family, but they had known each other for a while, and…but Seth did it, only when he was in a good mood, only when he was feeling nice, and he just naturally assumed this was what everyone was doing. Conditionally. They were doing it because they cared?

This was hurting his head. Multiple thoughts littered his head and he couldn’t sort them out fast enough to process a coherent sentence. His logical side just straight up vanished.

Matthew walked up to him, cautiously sticking his arm out and gently grabbing Martin’s shoulder.

His head suddenly blanked, whatever he had been thinking about just stopped at the contact. “Well,” Martin laughed awkwardly, “I guess you learn something new everyday.”

The other boy gave a smile, and he thought he could spare them both the mental breakdown he would inevitably have, then the arse had to say: “You’re deserving of respect darlin’, unconditionally.”

And wonderfully, he started to cry. The more correct term would be more like, loudly sobbing, but save himself a little bit of dignity. Matthew had once again proved how amazing he was, holding him.

A loud noise sounded from somewhere, knocking him out of the memory. He felt a smile on his face though, thinking about the American. His boyfriend, seeing as two hours after he shared his entire life story, they made out on their dorm floor.

He stopped smiling when he felt his lips crack in the cold weather. Licking them didn’t help, they dried back up seconds later.

Martin stood up, shivering at the lack of movement. He tried the door again, and when that didn’t work, he called Majesty and walked to the backside of the house. It was locked. Well, it was good that they were responsible with locking doors.

He then tried the windows, but remembered that he closed them because of his hate of the cold, and locked them because of his paranoia. He thought about breaking a window, but came to the conclusion that a locksmith was most likely better.

He picked up his phone, then stopped, thinking about it. If someone he didn’t know could pick their way into the house, what’s stopping someone with a grudge doing the exact same thing?

They had cameras and an alarm system, but a short circuit somewhere around the house could disable them, or if a computer tech tapped into them…

Martin felt a weight in his chest. If a locksmith was successfully able to get the door open, then anyone could be able to get the door open, and anyone included Seth and his friends. If they ever decided they wanted to get back at him, they could get in easily.

He didn’t realize that he dropped his phone, and barely noticed when he stepped on it, looking around. Martin scanned the streets, starting to worry that Seth would have this idea, and show up.

He suddenly couldn’t breathe, now frantically looking for his stepfather’s car. He would kill Martin if he saw him, he’d hurt him and kill him.

He was tied to that bed, hands touching all over him. He didn’t want it, he begged for it to be over.

The hands were on him again. Martin swore he could feel them dragging against his skin, and he physically recoiled, tripping and falling into the grass.

He didn’t want to be back there, not again.

“Please, stop!”

“No!” He screamed at nothing, covering his head with his arms. Martin felt a sob build up, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Seth was going to find him, and even if Martin went back into the house, he’d find a way in, or break the door. He couldn't stop him, and no one would know what happened.

Martin felt something on his face, warm and wet in contrast to the cold. Then he felt something push against his chest, something that was warm. He instinctively reached out, wrapping his arms around whatever it was, shivering and still struggling to breathe.

He needed to look at the street again, see if he was coming, but the same wet feeling was on his face again.

After a couple minutes, he opened his eyes, the tears freezing against his face. He realized that it was Majesty who he was holding in his arms, and he realized that he was licking Martin’s face, just doing his job.

He pulled the Doberman closer, taking a few seconds before sitting up. Majesty instantly got up after he did, nudging his arm gently, waiting for Martin to move off the frozen grass. They both made it back to the door eventually, Martin working on clearing his mind by asking himself if it was the panic attack or the cold that was making him super tired.

He looked for his phone, stressing out until Majesty quickly trotted over and dropped it at his feet. He ignored the little bits of drool, seeing three texts and a missed call from Tristan.

Trishyfishy👀👄👀

December 14, 7:56 PM

Yo, what the fuck do you want

Jkjk, everything alright

Call me Mars.

Martin went to the contact and called, realizing he could hardly feel his hands. “Hello?” His voice trembled slightly, either from the crying or the cold, he wasn’t sure.

“Alright Martin?”

He chuckled hollowly. “Ah, I got locked out of the house.”

“Are you alright? You sound like you’re crying.”

“I got locked out of the fucking house Tristan. It’s like, -2 degrees out here.” There was a beat of silence.

“I’m on the way back, so uh, just… hang in there?” He rolled his eyes, petting Majesty. “I’m like, fifteen minutes away.”

He heard Tristan laugh at something he didn’t hear through the phone. “Where did you even go?”

“To a party, (figures) but some 9th year threw up in the punch bowl and two kids got in a fight over some stupid bet. It got boing. What about you? I thought you were with Sadie.”

“I was, but she had an appointment and I didn’t want to go so I just walked home instead, she lives like, half an hour away, so I didn’t, like, you know.” Majesty put his head on his lap, letting Martin stim by petting, effectively keeping him calm and awake.

Tristan hummed over the phone, but didn’t say anything. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down, seeing that Matthew was texting him.

“I’ll call you back Trish.” He waited for a response, then hung up.

American.

December 14, 8:24 PM

I just saw a this lady with a really big yellow

snake around her neck and it made me think

of you

Which part?

The snake or the lady?

Both

Anyway

What are you doing?

Sitting on my front doorstep.

Why

Tat sounds boring

That**

lost my key.

I believe I left it at Sadie’s, but I can’t remember.

Oh f

So you can’t get in?

How long have you been out there

No one else will let you in?

Actually just hold on

Martin looked at his phone confusedly for a moment, before he was suddenly receiving a call from the other.

“Ok, go on,” Matthew said from the other side when he pushed the accept button.

“Er… I lost my key, and no one else is home.” His teeth chattered as he spoke.

“That sucks man, I’m sorry. My mom says hi by the way, and asked if you tried the window or a back door.”

He nodded, then realized that Matthew coudn’t see him. “Oh, yeah uh, the back door was locked, and the windows, I locked them before I left. Preventable measure you know?” He said, laughing a shrill, awkward laugh.

“Right. Don’t want any cold air getting in.” Matthew coughed, then went on. “Uh, is someone like, coming to let you in?”

“Yeah, Tristan is coming, he’s gonna be home soon. Also, hello.”

“What?”

“You said that your mum said hi, so i’m responding to that.” He put his head on Majesty’s for a moment, exhaling. When he picked it up again, he saw that he accidentally clicked on the facetime button.

It was at least nice to see his face.

“Sis, you’re red.” Matthew said, looking at the camera.

Martin cocked his head to the side, then cursed as he dropped his phone. “Why thank you for the relay of information,” he snarked, but it was the first time he had looked at himself since he was with Sadie. That was what, an hour and a half ago? Two?

His eyes looked sunken in, skin pale except for the exessive spots of red on his cheeks, ears, and his eyes, but that was different, because he had been crying. Still. He wasn’t able to tell with his lips, mostly because the black lipstick he normally wore was still clinging to his lips. It was truly a look.

“Are you alright?” Martin gave him a look that signified that he was anything but. “Right, right, force of habit, sorry darlin’… Random question, why would you go out in that cold of weather, especially cause you’re crippled?”

Ah, he was wondering if that question would come up. “Well, it was around six degrees when I left, I didn’t expect the temperature to drop so suddenly.”

Matthew gave him a perturbed look. “Six? That’s freezing?!”

“Well, yeah? But it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t even freezing temperatures.” The other boy’s face didn’t change. It really wasn’t awful, but… oh wait. “Six degrees celsius Matthew, not fahrenheit. It would be about…” He thought about it for a minute, trying to ignore the sudden gust of wind. “Fourty… fouty-four degrees fahrenheit, I believe?”

“Oh, right, right, yeah. You know, y’all shame Americans for using fahrenheit, but it actually aduquateds for humans, not water. So.”

Well he was right about that, he was pretty sure. He couldn’t remember at the moment. “Hm.” He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to remove the heavy feeling from his eyelids.

“Woah hey, aren’t you not supposed to sleep? You might not wake up.”

“I wasn’t going to sleep. My eyes hurt.” He moved a trembling hand on top of Majesty’s head, once again back to petting. He blanked out for a moment, but he came back to Matthew talking, or yelling, through the phone.

“Darlin’- you need to wake up!” He looked at the phone, blinking eratically. He fell asleep? “Oh thank god,” he heard Matthew mutter through the phone. He looked up, realizing Majesty was walking around him, trying to wake him up too through nudges and pawing him. “You should probably stand up so you don’t fall asleep again.”

“Right.” He used Majesty as a balance to get to his feet, stepping around a couple times to try and get feeling back into his leg. Where the fuck was Tristan? He walked up and down the steps a few times, seeing that the tips of his fingers were going from a paper white to a more blue colour. He brought them to his face and wiped, feeling the skin that was marked with tears start to rip painfully.

Still shivering, he brought his phone up, asking Matthew something.

“Oh, yeah, it’s basically when-”

“What did I ask you?” He asked, looking at the phone.

The other boy looked at him, an indeterminable look in his eyes. “Uh, you asked about what happens-” The phone went black. He tried turnng it on again, to no avail, when he realized it died. His head was spinning, and he tried turing it on again, and again, until Majesty nudged him, and he had to stop tears from coming again.

He sat next to the door, the service dog standing next to him. He blinked harshly, feeling something burn in his chest again.

Majestly circled him again, going back to standing in the same spot. He rubbed him a couple times, but then had to rub his eyes.

“-rtin a dumbass yeah but he’ll be fine.” He woke up, feeling like he was being poked by a bunch of sewing needles. He blinked slowly, trying to sit up when he felt the blanket fall off.

Blanket? Martin moved his hand around, looking for Majesty. A coat of fur under his hand made him exhale in relief.

“Christ, Martin, you gave everyone here a fucking heart attack, you actually back with us this time?”

He muttered something, but it came out sounding weird, so he repeated it, with better results. “Can you give me a chance to see who everyone is before you start screaming.” He used Majesty to help him up, who jumped on the couch next to him to help him actually stay up.

Standing in front of him was Tristan, and two other guys that Martin recognized from school. David and Aaron, he’s pretty sure it was.

Doing a quick glance around, he noticed that A) His clothes had been changed. He was wearing a black sweater and sweat pants, B) He was in fact warm, seeing as there was a heater pointed at his direction, and C) his phone was no where to be found. He wondered how many hours he had been asleep.

Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but Martin interupted him. “Who changed my clothes?” This seemed to stop whatever the other boy was going to say.

“You did?”

Martin gave him an incredious look. “I feel like I would remember that.”

“Clearly not. What’s today Martin?”

He tried to remember the last conversation he had with someone over text. It was with… Matthew, who he really needed to call back, he realized. “Er… Wednesday, December 14?”

“It’s a few hours until friday. You’ve been asleep or on autopilot for like, the last 24 hours.” Oh. That didn’t feel right. That was even worse, actually. “Also, Dad and Oliver are on their way back. They were gonna come back before, but you were awake and like, warming up so I told them not to.”

Yeah, cool, whatever, he was still confused about the autopilot thing. “How often do I do that?”

Tristan raised a confused eyebrow, then said, “Oh, not that often, just right after like, messed up stuff happens. You kinda just, go through the mechanics of something.”

“When else have I done it?”

He pursed his lips. “Er, I’ll tell you later.” So he’d done it after what happened with Seth. He wouldn’t have figured it out at the moment if it weren’t for the thing his brother did with his mouth whenever his Mother’s husband was brought up.

“Right, ok.” He got up from the couch, noting as Tristan said something to his friends and waved as they quickly left. “Where’s my phone?”

“It’s where you left it.” He saw Martin’s face and added, “It’s on your bed.” Ah. He went to go walk to the stairs, but staggered on the second step. Majesty was already by hi side, so he leaned on him. “I can go get it Mars, or you can have Majesty get it, but Oliver said, and I quote ‘Your impulsevness and boyfriend can wait two seconds. Sit down Martin.’”

He sat back on the couch and sighed. “Phone, Majesty.” The dog perked up and ran up the stairs, coming back and dropping it on his lap. “Good boy,” he cooed, petting the top of his head.

Martin unlocked it (wincing at the date), partially watching as Tristan got up and walked out the room. He went to his last texts, and saw some that weren’t his. He assumed it was his brother who texted him, just saying that he was alive, and in the house.

You

December 15, 9:07 PM

Hey.

Is this a bad time?

Depends on who I’m talkin to

I hope I’m on the good spectrum then.

Darlin?

Your one and only.

I meant to put ‘the’ but ‘your’ works too.

I’m so glad you’re alright

Like, I thought I fucking lost you

You can’t kill me all that easily.

Right.

Well.

I’m actually in public rn and I can’t call and I’m sure there are some people you need to talk to

Yeah.

Sorry :(

Give me one hour and then i’m all yours

Take your time Love.

I sure have a lot of it.

I’m currenty on bedrest, so…

Aw :(

I won’t take up much more of your time then.

Call me when you can?

I miss you.

Of course darlin

And i miss you too

Martin closed out of the messenger app, only to get a little black heart sent to him. He loved that motherfucker.

He didn’t even bother texting his dad to see if the man was busy or not. He knew that if he did that it would be an immediate phone call, so, there wasn’t really a point.

He wouldn’t consider his father pushy or too suffocating. Martin loved and attention and praise he got from his father. His only concern was that Oliver would do some stupid shit (like father, like son) and burn himself out trying to care for everyone else.

He went to the contact and pushed the call button. It rang twice before both of his parents’ (fathers’?) asked about a million questions, all being variations of ‘What happened?’ and ‘Are you ok?’ and ‘We’re nearly home.’

“Yes, concerned adults, I’m perfectly fine. I just left my key at Sadie’s, I think. I should probably call and ask her-”

Tristan handed him a mug filled with overly sweetened hot tea, the only way he would drink it. “Don’t worry about it, her parents brought it back, along with like, a million other things because they felt so bad.”

Martin put it on speaker, just so they’d know who Martin was suddenly talking to. “I insisted on walking home, so it’s really my fault.” He took a sip of the tea when he heard the voices from the other end disprove this statement. “Also, define “a million.”

His brother shrugged. “I hope you like chocolate and tiny doll eyes.” He couldn’t help but feel like shit about it. He insisted he walk home, and he forgot his key, so he didn’t know why they blamed themselves so much. It was really on himself.

“I can hear your thinking Martin. You can’t blame yourself for this.” A door closed on the other side of the phone.

“I very well can, and I very well will.” Tristan sighed, but didn’t say much else about it. “Anyway.”

Over the phone, Nick asked: “Did you try calling a locksmith?” Martin felt his chest tighten up at the question. Majesty was immedietly at his side, putting his head on his lap. The other boy took notice and took the mug from his grip, and grabbed his hand.

He was going to say somehing, but jumped when the front door was unlocked and opened. Tristan hung up the phone, squeezing his hand at the same time.

Oliver and Nick walked in, not even bothering to hide their relief, until they noticed the condition that the other three were in, relief turning into concern.

“Hey baby,” Oliver said, coming and putting a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Martin exhaled, feeling better that his father was back with him. “Uh,” he laughed awkwardly, another shrill laugh. He opened his mouth, then closed it, not being able to pinpoint a good response, so he just shrugged and crossed his arms.

Tristan let go of his hand pretty quickly, instead going over to talk to his dad. Oliver put himself where Tristan was, giving his son an indetrminable smile.

He held out his arms, a silent invitation for a familiar embrace. Martin crawled over, filling the space and resting his head on the crease of his father’s neck. He felt a hand soothingly run up and down his back, reassurances being whispered in his ear.

“So you wanna rely on how you nearly died again..?” Well he won’t pass on having good attention on him.

Oliver whispered, “We can talk later baby.” To which he nodded, breaking away from the much needed hug.

Later, when he got some time alone, where Nick was cooking and the other two were in the parlor, he was upstairs, going back to the familiar contact.

You

December 15, 10:43 PM

Attachment: One image

👁👁?

It’s in german

I’m fully aware.

Well I can’t google translate cause it’s a picture

Once again, I am fully aware love :).

😾😾

Rude

I will be having someone translate that later so don’t act all smug

I wouldn’t dream of it.

Hm. Call me

Alright.

“Hey darlin’,” the voice said over the phone.

#noncon mention #noncon tw #depersonalization #TW child abuse #hypothermia #paranoia #anxitey #service dog #whump #wac2020 #whumper #whumpee #whumperflies #do it for the girls and the gays thats it #caretaker #multiple caretakers

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robinrunsfiction · 5 years ago

Text

The Lonely Road

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader

Rating: Teen (for online harassment)

Requested By: None

Word Count: 2,400

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song Outnumbered by Dermot Kennedy, so feel free to give it a listen as you read. Originally this was gonna be a Valentine’s story, but now Valentine’s is over, and so I just took out the brief mentions of it. Also it’s a Gerard story so of course it’s longer than intended so taking parts out probably is for the better 😅 Shout out to my number one @mariawritesfanfic for helping me wrap this story up

You scrolled through your twitter feed, as hours on the tour bus left you with few other options to pass the time. Your new album had just come out and you wanted to see how people were reacting to it.

OMG @(YFN)(YLN)’s album is awesome! Everyone check it out now!

The only reason she’s famous is bc of @gerardway

The album is ok if you consider she fucked her way into stardom

I stg if mcr ever breaks up it’s gonna be (YN)'s fault

(YN) should just break up with gee so he can be with frank liek everyone knows he wants to be

You felt sick to your stomach as you read through the messages. Sure there were tweets from fans saying how much they enjoyed the album, and they love Gerard and you together, but those weren’t the ones that stuck out in your mind. It was the negative messages that caught your attention and soured your mood.

As if he was reading your thoughts, a text from Gerard appeared on your screen. “Hey sugar, congrats on the album. It’s amazing and so are you xoxo love you”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes at the love and kindness of his message. “Thanks love," you replied before tossing your phone aside. You pulled shut the curtain on your bunk and let the tears fall silently.

You had met Gerard at an award show. You had always been a fan of his and My Chem, but you were beyond nervous to say anything to him when you saw him across the room. When he approached you and said he actually had been listening to your music and was a fan, you thought you might transcend onto another plane of existence right then and there. You found him to be surprisingly easy to talk to and exchanged phone numbers so you could hang out sometime.

Hanging out sometime turned into hanging out often. Then one night under the stars in his backyard, your casual hanging out turned into sharing your thoughts, hopes, and fears you'd never voiced to anyone. The next day you were worried you'd never see or hear from him again, having revealed too much of your emotional baggage too soon, but that afternoon he called and asked you out on a real date. The date was perfect for two people like you and Gerard, complete with a tender, careful kiss that took your breath away. In an instant, you were falling hard.

After that it really became you and Gerard. When all of your friends found out, they were so happy for both of you, as they could see how happy you made each other. Then one day the rest of the world figured it out as well. Gerard had come to one of your recording sessions and had snapped a picture of you laughing in the recording booth and posted it online with the caption "the most beautiful person making the most beautiful sounds ❤" The fans put it together and a barrage of messages flooded your social media feed. Some people thought it was cute, many were awful, but you let it all roll off your back as you were too in love to care what anyone thought.

Months passed, and now that album was out. You had hoped Gerard would be able to join you on the road, but My Chem was in the studio themselves so he wasn't able to be there. You understood, but being away from him for the first time, while dealing with the stress of releasing an album, your first tour, and his angry fans, it was almost getting to be too much.

You had finally fallen asleep only to be awakened what felt like moments later by your manager Christine's voice.

"Rise and shine rock star, time to charm the lovely people of," she paused and you could hear her flipping through papers, "Fort Wayne, Indiana."

You sighed. You had wanted this for so long, it had been your dream for years. But now you were questioning everything.

"We're joined in studio by (YFN) (YLN), her new album just came out last week and we are loving it here on 106.7 FM," the overly cheerful radio host announced. “You have a lot of fans here in Madison!”

"Thank you," you replied with a tired smile. You hoped your lack of energy wasn't evident by your voice.

"Tell us, how much of an influence was your boyfriend? And for anyone who hasn't heard, (YN) is dating that oh so sexy MCR frontman, Gerard Way."

You had gotten this question at almost every interview, as if you were incapable of creating your own music. "He was there for some of the recording sessions, but a lot of the album was written before we met, so not a huge influence musically."

"What's it like to date someone so famous?"

"I mean, it's not like a topic of conversation for us," you replied sharply. You glanced up and saw the look Christine was giving you. "I mean, we talk about music and our projects and give each other feedback, but that's pretty much it. We're pretty normal weirdos."

After the interview was over and you played a few songs live, and then reboarded the bus.

"What the fuck was that?" Christine asked as the bus rolled down the road.

"What the fuck is with these interviews? It's never about me and my music. It's about Gee or the people on the internet and all the bullshit! That's not why I'm out here! I want to talk about my songs!"

Christine nodded. "Ok, I'm sorry girl. You're right. I'll make sure the next one we keep it focused on the music. We can't have you blowing up on another host."

"I didn't blow up! I snapped at worst," you retorted, rolling your eyes.

"Either way, we're on our way to Iowa now."

"Can't wait," you muttered and crawled into your bunk.

The dark cloud that had settled over you was not going away or getting better. While Christine was doing a better job of reminding the interviewers beforehand to lay off the relationship questions, they still came up, sometimes after the actual interview was over, sometimes they just disregarded your wishes all together to get juicy gossip. You did your best not to appear annoyed, but the longer you were away from Gerard, the harder it got.

She's an ugly, untalented leech! She doesn't love gee or else she would have put a song about him on the album!

He doesnt seem happy like he used to before her

The album jsut sucks. I mean i didnt listen to it, i just assume it does

She should just die

You couldn't take it any longer. The constant, incessant stream of hate coming at you was too much. You dialed Gerard and went into the back of the bus, shutting the door behind you.

"Hey (YN), how is everything goin?"

"I can't do it anymore Gee," you said, trying to keep your voice steady

"Do what?" He asked, immediately concerned.

"Tour, be a musician, be someone in the public eye, I can't take it!" You sobbed, unable to control your emotions any longer. "I feel like I have no privacy anymore! Everything I do is wrong, everything I don't do is wrong! I just wanna give up! I don't wanna do this anymore!"

"Hey, hey, sugar, it's ok. Did someone say something to you today?"

"It's been every fucking day," you cried. "I wanna come home, I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't want anyone to know who I am anymore."

"Take a deep breath," Gerard said, trying to keep you calm. "Where are you?"

"On the bus."

"Where are you going, or where were you?"

"I don't even know anymore. All I see is fucking corn everywhere."

"Ok, umm, where is Christine?"

"In her bunk," you sniffled.

"Can I talk to her?"

You got up and made your way to the bunks and knocked on the frame surrounding Christine's.

"Yea?" She asked, opening the curtain. "Woah, girl, what's wrong?"

"Gee wants to talk to you," you said holding out your phone.

"Hello? What's going on?" Christine asked Gerard. She listened and nodded and mm hmm'ed along. "She seemed stressed, but not that bad," she said as she watched you sink wearily to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. "No, I hadn’t heard that… Yea, we're setting out from Omaha now, on our way to Denver," she paused. "Ok... Yea... Sounds good. Yea, we'll get our girl through this."

You looked up at her from your spot on the floor and she smiled down sympathetically and handed the phone back to you.

"Gee?" You said softly, the anger and fear and frustration having quieted.

"Hey sugar, we've got a plan for you, you're gonna be ok. But where are you hearing from the people that are criticizing you?"

"Twitter," you mumbled and you heard Christine mutter "I knew it."

"Delete it, you don't need that in your life. You're too talented and beautiful and wonderful to let anyone make you feel anything less," he said gently. "I love you, (YN) ."

"Love you too," you replied, a smile finally cracking through.

"Get some rest, we'll talk soon."

You had immediately crawled into your bunk and fallen into a deep sleep. The weight of your thoughts no longer weighing you down now that you had shared them with Gerard. When you finally woke up, you were rolling into Denver. You made your way to the front of the bus to find Christine on her phone.

"What's on the schedule today?" You yawned.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"You need a day off. We've been pushing you way too hard, and I just wish I would have realized it sooner. So we moved your interview to tomorrow afternoon and we're staying here overnight."

"Really?" You asked, stunned.

"Yep, we're going to the hotel right now."

It was incredibly refreshing to be in a hotel with a real bed and shower, and everyone was actually thankful for your meltdown that got them this break.

You took an extra long, hot shower to allow your muscles to relax, and then crawled into bed to call Gerard and give him an update. As his phone rang you heard a knock on your door. Keeping your ear to your phone in case he picked up you answered the door.

"Gerard!" You squealed as you launched yourself at him and he wrapped you in his arms.

"I missed you so much (YN)," he murmured against your neck. "I couldn't stand to hear the pain in your voice and not be there to make it better.”

"But you hate flying! And your studio time!" You exclaimed as you pulled him into your room and he dropped his bag on the floor.

“We were spinning our wheels and needed a break from recording,” he smiled reassuringly before he leaned in and kissed you with all the longing that had built up over the weeks apart. You ran your hands through his black hair and felt the tears slip down your cheeks. “And I’d fly to the moon if it meant I could spend a minute with you. I just wish I could have been here for you from the beginning, I wish I realized that you were struggling.”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me. I thought I could handle it, but everything kept chipping away at me until I broke down completely.”

“I wanna worry about you, (YN). You’re my girl and I love you, and I wanna be there for you no matter what,” he said softly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you replied. “It’s just hard when it’s coming at you from every direction.”

“I know,” he said, pulling you back to him in a tight hug. “But for today it’s just you and me. No one else matters.”

You smiled up at him before pulling him into another sweet kiss.

The next morning you woke up with Gerard’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close. It almost felt too good to be true. As he slowly started to wake up, he gave you his lopsided smile and you couldn’t help but grin in return.

“I needed this so much,” you said as you buried your face against his neck.

“I did too,” he said squeezing you tight, his voice still raspy with sleep.

“Thank you for being here. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he said leaning down to give you a quick kiss. “Wait, I didn’t give you your presents yet.”

“What presents?” You asked sitting up, as he reached over the side of the bed to grab his bag. "I don’t have anything for you!"

"It's nothing, just a couple things I made for you," he said pulling out a large flat envelope and handing it to you.

You carefully pulled out the drawing that was inside. "Oh it's beautiful!”

"It's us the night we watched the stars and talked for hours. That was the night I realized I was falling in love with you. I was so scared you wouldn't even like me like that," he laughed softly.

"It's perfect," you replied. "What's this? ‘Gee+(YN)=gross, a big sappy love mix’" you laughed at scribbled handwriting on the cover of the cd case. Around the words was a big heart and lots of little hearts.

"It’s a mix of songs that remind me of you, and me and you, but Frank decorated the cover. He doesn't really think we're gross, he's just-"

"Frank," you laugh.

"Exactly," Gerard replied. "I was just hoping this would help you get through the last days of your tour."

"It will," you smiled and threw your arms around him. “I think just having you here for a day was enough to get me through. And I know now that I shouldn’t just bottle up what I’m feeling.”

Gerard nodded. “We’re a team, you and me. Let me help you when you’re down and keep you safe from all the bastards and shit talkers.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you smiled as you leaned in and kissed him. “But only if you promise to let me help you do the same.”

“I promise.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #tw: online harassment #tw: bullying

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stormcrawler75 · 6 years ago

Text

Virgil’s Birthday Breakfast

@sanders-trash-4ever I hope you like this! No taglist for this fic since it’s a gift!

Pairings: Analogical

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

“Come on, come on, come one!!”

“Emile! You’re gonna wake him”

“Both of you, shhh! You’re going to wake Papa up!”

Virgil kept his eyes closed only through sheer force of will as he listened to his three sons bicker. His lips curled up into a little smile and he turned to hide his face in his pillow.

The arms around his waist tightened a little and his Husband chuckled in his ear. “They certainly aren’t very quiet,” Logan whispered, “are they?”

Virgil bit his lip to stop laughter from leaking out. He cracked his eyes open and smiled at Logan over his shoulder. “What are they even doing up?” He asked in a whisper. “Roma’s never up until nine at the latest on a weekend.”

“Forgotten already, Starlight?” Logan asked him, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Happy birthday, Stardust. I hope you like the breakfast the boys are making for you.”

The words took a second to sink in and then Virgil’s head jerked up. “Did you allow our eight years old, our five-year-old, and our three years old to cook breakfast?” He hissed. “Like, using the actual oven? Without one of us being there?” Virgil went to push himself out of the bed to make sure his sons were okay but Logan just pulled him closer.

Logan chuckled and shook his head. “Of course not. While you were out with Remy last night, the boys and I cook mini quiches with bacon and three types of cheeses. I also fried up some hash browns. The boys are not cooking anything, just heating up the plate in the microwave. Though I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell them that. They are very proud of the fact that they’re making their Papa his birthday breakfast.”

Virgil practically slumped in Logan’s arms. “You had me scared there, Lo,” he mumbled. “I thought we’d be dealing with burns and some crying kids today.”

“No, no, Starlight,” Logan assured him. “I made sure that Patton knows not to allow his younger brothers to touch anything. He is using the microwave while Emile and Roman finish up your card.”

“I get a card, huh?” Virgil asked with a grin. “Let me guess, they’re breaking out the glitter.” He laughed at Logan’s disgruntled face.

“I have no doubt,” Logan grumbled. “Our bed is going to have glitter in it for months. The washing machine didn’t even get it all out of the sheets last time. I’m still finding little pieces of glitter everywhere.”

Virgil snorted and rubbed at his eyes. “And yet you still have that card on the dresser,” he teased.

“Oh shush, you,” Logan said, nuzzling his cheek into Virgil’s hair. He paused when footsteps echoed through the house and their sons’ voices came closer to them. “Time to go back to sleep, Starlight,” he murmured. “Emile wants to wake you himself.”

Virgil bit back a grin and turned, burying his face in Logan’s shoulder. He listened to his bedroom door being cracked open and the three boys hushing each other and giggling.

“Patton,” Logan whispered, “please be careful with the tray. Roman, Emile, please put your card to Papa on the dresser, I don’t want glitter getting in the sheets again.”

“But, Dada,” Roman whined, “Papa won’t be able to see the card if it’s on the dresser!”

“He’ll see it just fine,” Logan replied patiently. “Now, up we go, you two.” Logan’s arms slipped away from Virgil and Virgil felt two extra weights being added to the bed. “Remember, you must be very gentle when waking up your Papa, Emile. Gentle.”

“I ‘member!” Clumsy hands patted Virgil’s face. “Papa! Papa, wake up! Wake up!”

Virgil pretended to groaned and took a few moments to let his eyes open up. He sat up and yawned, rubbing dramatically at his eyes. He heard Roman and Patton giggling and Emile bounced up and down on the bed. “What is it?”

His sons all laughed and chorused together, “Happy Birthday, Papa!”

Virgil drew his hands away to see Patton and Roman kneeling on the bed with Emile sitting in front of him. There was a tray of steaming microwaved food on Patton’s knees that he was holding steady.

Virgil gasped and pulled Emile to his chest, being careful with the laughing toddler. “Aw, you guys made me breakfast! Thank you!”

“We made you fried potatoes!” Roman boasted, pointing at the hash browns. “And, and Patton helped us cut off the edges the hash browns so they look little crowns!”

The hash browns did sort of look like crowns if Virgil tilted his head just right. They were the best looking hash browns Virgil had ever seen.

He looked up at beamed at his oldest son. “Thank you, Patty! You did great!”

Patton beamed back and clapped his hands. “Thank you, Papa!”

Roman pouted and crossed his arms. “It was my idea,” he grumbled and Virgil ruffled his hair.

“It was a great idea,” he praised, making Roman perk up. “Now, I don’t suppose you two could tell me about your morning so far while I ate this amazing birthday breakfast?”

Roman and Patton immediately started talking over each other in a rush to tell Virgil about their adventures in breakfast making while Virgil pulled the tray onto his and Emile’s lap and started digging into the quiche. Logan wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder. He rested his head on Virgil’s shoulder, wrinkling Virgil’s MCR sleep shirt, and smiled up at him. “Happy Birthday, Starlight.”

#sanders side fic #analogical

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ghostoftasslehoff · 5 years ago

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Top 5 musical influences :-)

Ahhh, thank you @my-one-true-l for the ask! *cracks knuckles* OKAY, this is going to be a mixed bag, because I listen to a L O T of music 😆

Jewel! Mostly based on her first two albums, because I absolutely LOVE her style of singing, her voice, and her storytelling in her lyrics still holds up to this day. I also find that, while I can mimic a lot of different vocal styles, she’s one of the people I can always hear in my vocal delivery.

Christina Aguilera! Her songs are usually catchy as fuck, and they always have a strong POV, which makes them highly relatable to me. I aspire to that in my lyrics, making them personal/vulnerable but also relatable.

Amy Lee/Evanescence. I absolutely LOVE her voice, her aesthetic, her lyrics - ugh. I could listen to every Evanescence album on repeat and not get bored because the emotion of each song just grabs me and doesn’t let go. *cough* aaaaaaanyway, Evanescence is probably my BIGGEST influence overall, both in my vocal style and in the music I want to write/perform.

MCR. I was GOING to say AFI, but I think MCR has been a much bigger influence on me, especially performance wise. I’ve seen them live twice and was pleasantly surprised both times by how FANTASTIC of a performance they put on, which influenced my onstage antics a LOT.

No Doubt. Tragic Kingdom was a defining album for me, and I’ve had SO many people over the years tell me how much of Gwen Stefani they hear in my voice when I perform.

Honourable mentions go to:

AFI - some of the beautiful, poetic lyrics they’ve written have HUGELY influenced the way I write

Pat Benatar - a later influence as I didn’t discover her until my 20’s, but her sassiness in her music comes out a LOT in how I sing, apparently

Paramore - definitely performance wise, but also lyrics wise

Kelly Clarkson - the way she puts so much emotion into her voice and plays with melodies has influenced me a lot

#ask meme #my-one-true-l #top 5 #musical influences #thank you for the ask!

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spideyy-girl · 6 years ago

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Training ~ Richie Tozier

Requested by anon: Hey, first of all, LOVED the Richie imagine and I love the fact that you write for The Umbrella Academy. My sister likes MCR and got me into that show and I love it! Anyways, I’d like to request a Richie x Reader with 9, and 21 I think? It’s: “I hate you” “Love you too, darling” and: “Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you” Or something. Anyways, thank you love!

9: “sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you”

28: “I hate you” “love you too, darling”

Summary: Richie wants to play at the arcade but Y/N wants to sleep in and some things are said.

Fandom: IT (2017)

Warnings: lots of swearing (this IS a Richie fic), love confession, cringey writing

Word Count: 1984 (5.3 pages)

Date: May 10, 2019

A/N: Ok this took way too long, and I am so so sorry about that. I was having major writing block but I’m feeling back on my game again now. Also, the new IT Ch2 trailer has me sCrEaMiNg.

Y/N laid on her stomach in her bed, head borrowed into her pillows as soft snores left the girls slightly open mouth, a small wet spot of drool forming on her pillow. The sun shone brightly through her large window beside her bed, birds chirping loudly on the branches just outside her window, yet she slept on. Today was the first day summer vacation, and the teenage girl was more than happy to sleep in until past noon like she currently was.

Well, that was the original plan. But suddenly she feels cold water crashing down onto her mess of hair and down her back, startling the girl awake as she sits up straight in her bed. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes to see what caused the chaos, only to see one of her closest friends, Richie Tozier, standing at the side of her bed, a wide smirk on his face as he holds back his laughter.

"What the fuck, Richard?" She almost screams as she quickly throws the covers off of her and getting out of her bed. At this point, Richie's smirk had only grown wider, putting the now empty glass on her bedside table and leaning against the wall, pushing op his glasses as he examined her.

"You weren't answering my calls," said Richie simply, shrugging his shoulder. "So I thought I might pay you a visit to see what was so important to be ignoring your favourite person in the world." He smiled at her as she stopped and just stared at him in disbelief. After glaring at him for a few seconds, she shook her head and went over to her closet to find something to wear that wasn't completely soaked.

"How the hell did you even get in here?" She asked as she pulled out a shirt and signalled for the boy to turn around sh=o she could change, which he did after some silent arguing.

"Easy. You hide a key under the mat in front of your house," he says, still facing the wall. "You should probably move that to a safer place, you know. That's like the most simple place to keep a spare key."

"Just shut up," Y/N said as she turned Richie around to face her again once she changed into a new outfit that didn't consist of fuzzy pyjama pants. "What do you want?"

"Training starts today!" He says, hitting her shoulder and looking at her like she was dumb. The look was given right back to him as she sighs and walks out of her room and downstairs, Richie following close behind.

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" She asks as she goes into the kitchen and takes out two bowls and starts pouring cereal into both of them. "You woke me up over this bullshit? What do you mean by training?" She pours in the milk and grabs two spoons, putting one in each bowl and handing the cereal to Richie, who gladly accepted it and started chomping down.

"Street Fighter, duh," he says as he chews on his cereal. Y/N grabs his free hand and puts it in front of his mouth, telling him to "cover up your mouth, that's disgusting." to which Richie only rolled his eyes back as a response, but kept his hand held up. "C'mon, Y/N. I told you about this literally yesterday. You said you'd come to the ar ade with me cause the guys are ditching me!"

Y/N groans as she slams down her bowl of cereal, some of the milk splashing out of the little bowl. "Rich, it's the first day of summer! I was supposed to sleep the entire day away. You know my sleeping schedule has been shit for months."

Richie looked down, starting to feel bad for waking her up. It was true, ever since the kids in Derry started disappearing, starting with one of their best friends little brothers, Y/N hasn't been able to get out of her head. She has told him that she was getting usually less than 3 hours of sleep per night, and it only got worse from there. Richie sighed, and looked back up, making eye contact with her beautiful Y/E/C orbs.

"Alright, let's crack a deal then," he says, his voice sounding not so cocky anymore. "We go to the arcade, and you battle me on Street Fighter. And if you manage to beat me, we'll go home and sleep for the rest of the day."

"Richie, that's so unfair!" she says, throwing her arms up before putting them back down to her sides. "You know I'm shit at Street Fighter! I'm shit at all video games!" He smiled at her, grabbing her hand and dragging her out the door.

"Yeah, trust me I know," he says as he goes to grab her bike for her and hands it off to her as he gets on his own. "And that is exactly why we need to do some training! You'll be the best Street Fighter out there by the end of the summer!" Y/N groans as she gets on her own bike, buckling her helmet.

"You know what Richie, I hate you," she says as the pair starts peddling off the driveway and onto the street, making their way to the arcade. Richie looks over to the girl he's known for as long as he can remember and smiles at the all too familiar phrase.

"Love you too, darling," he replies, just as he always does whenever she says that too him. Y/N can't help the smile that stretches across her face, wondering if one day maybe he would say that to her without the sarcasm behind it.

Y/N had to admit that she had a little crush on the four-eyed boy. Well, that would be an underexagguration. Y/N had practically been in love with the boy riding down the street beside her for almost two years now. It started as a small crush in 5th grade, but young Y/N quickly dismissed it, remembering her other small crush on Stanley just a few months before and that was still slightly present. But as weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, Y/N had to admit to herself that this was more than just a slight infatuation.

Soon enough, the teens had made their way to the arcade, the bright neon sign flickering the words 'Derry's Best Arcade!'. They walked in and firstly got a slushie from the counter and some tokens to spend on the Street Fighter game. Once they were set with extra large slushies in their hands and a solo cup full to the brim of tokens, they started on their so-called "training" as Richie called it earlier. They were in the dimmed arcade for at least an hour and a half, but neither of them were really keeping track, both of them determined to win. Y/N wanted to win so she could get back into her comfy bed as soon as possible, while Richie was continuing to win to make sure that didn't happen, and he could spend more time with the girl.

After three-fourths of the tokens in the cup have been used up Y/N groaned and started walking away from the machine, pacing back and forth through the aisles of other games. "This is useless, Richie!" she yelled at him once she came back to stand next to him. "It feels like I'm only getting worse at this stupid game! Why did I even agree to come here with you! This is so dumb!"

"Hey, calm down," says Richie, grabbing her shoulders in a way to try and calm her down. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. It's about having fun!"

"Well, I was having plenty of fun before, IN MY BED, where I wanted to be!" she yells back, the sleep deprivation starting to get to her head, quite literally and giving her headaches. "God, sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you," she says, still not thinking straight, and quickly covering her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut once she realizes what she said. Richie only watched the girl, his mocking face falling clean off to an unreadable one, something Y/N has never seen on the boy.

"Y-you love me?" he asks, his voice going so quiet that the other sounds of the arcade almost drowned it out, but she somehow still heard him. She felt tears starting to well up in her eyes. "oh fuck oh fuck, what did I do?!" she thinks to herself. She tries to cover up by laughing, her head facing down so he couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Yeah, of course silly," she says, trying to act casual. "We've discussed this. I love you and Bill and Eddie and Stan-"

"I don't think that's what you meant," he said as he walks closer to her. "And I know that's definitely not what I meant." he stands right in front of her now, hoping she would look up at him and tell him the truth he wanted to hear. But all he got was hearing the small sniffles coming from her, and he knew she was starting to cry. He took her arm gently and brought her outside, bringing her down to sit on the curb. "Hey, baby, please can you talk to me?" he asks quietly. Y/N was shocked by his tone of voice, Richie was never soft with anyone, and it was odd hearing this side of him.

"I'm sorry, Richie," she whispers, still not being able to look up at him. She didn't want him to see her like this, and she knew she couldn't face him after her confession. "Can we just forget this ever happened? I didn't want to say anything because I don't want to ruin our friendship. I can't lose you."

Richie reaches up and grabs her chin, forcing her head up to look at him. He could feel his heart break as he saw her already red puffy eyes. He gave her a soft smile. "You could never ruin our friendship. Besides, you didn't even ask me how I felt?" He suggests, his famous smirk growing back onto his face as he looks back at the girl. She laughs, shaking her head.

"I really don't think I want to do that," she says, biting her lip.

"Trust me, I think you'll want to hear what I have to say," he says to her, smiling still. After a moment of silence, in which Richie realized she wasn't going to say anything, he spoke for himself. "I love you too, Y/N. Like, a lot." This caught Y/N's attention, looking up at him in surprise, her mouth falling open slightly. He laughs at her, using his index finger to reach up and close her mouth. "Don't keep your mouth open, darling, you'll catch flies." Y/N can't help but laugh, shaking her head. Suddenly she flew herself at the boy and engulfed him into a hug. He could only smile as he wrapped his arms around, his grin widening as he felt her put her head into the crook of his neck.

"Thank you, Richie, for everything," she mumbled into his neck as he laughed and pulled away, still holding her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, doll," he says, his old demeanour coming back as he helped her up. "Now, let's forget about Street Fighter. I'm starting to think an all day nap isn't that bad." He smiled as she laughed. So the two head back home and crawled under the still damp covers of the girl's single bed, and as promised they slept the whole day away.

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #it #it (2017)#requested #imagine #prompt #9 #28

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cruelangelstheses · 5 years ago

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louder than the maker’s revolver (and twice as shiny) - chapter 1: look alive, sunshine

fandom: dragon age rating: M characters: isabela/f!hawke, bethany/merrill, anders/fenris/m!hawke words (total): 6.5k words (this chapter): 6.5k additional tags: fabulous killjoys au, post-apocalypse, twin hawkes, slow burn, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence description: in which an eight-person gang of rebels living in the desert pisses off the government, firefights are lost and won, homoerotic wound-dressing is commonplace, bonds are forged and broken and reforged, feelings are hard, fighting a powerful and corrupt institution is slightly less hard, and everyone is just trying to survive, to heal, to find their way. (or, “the da2 killjoy au nobody asked for”) a/n: ITS STILL 2019 OUT WEST I MADE IT!!! ok so. [cracks knuckles] this is an AU fic based on the universe created in my chemical romance's album “danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys” (and gerard way's subsequent comics) about rebels in the desert fighting a corrupt government post-apocalypse. the album starts/takes place in the year 2019 which is why i wanted to get this fic out before the year ends. while the general setting and terms are the same, no characters from the killjoy universe will appear and everything else is a more loose interpretation. you do not have to be familiar with my chem or the killjoy universe to read this. (for those who know the story, this fic takes place in the year 2030, so after the original “fab four” have died but before the events of the comics, during a sort of “lull” in the action you could say)

a key feature of the killjoy universe is the usage of “killjoy names,” usually one or two-word phrases that relate to the person, and often the person created the name themself - the original four are party poison, fun ghoul, jet star, and kobra kid. i've given each member of the crew a killjoy name (see below) that the other characters will usually use in dialogue (except for characters who knew each other before they became killjoys and got names), but i will use their real names for the most part in narration so you don't forget who's who

ANYWAY i've been planning this fic for a whole year now and it's gonna be a FUN RIDE !!!! i've left a guide at the end for the killjoy names (not all of them are mentioned in this chapter though). i tried my best to explain what certain terms mean in this chapter but they will all be expanded upon more throughout the fic!! ALSO some of characters might end up aged down a little bit because people in the zones tend not to live very long and someone in their early to mid 40s is considered like, ancient in the comics. bethany and carver are still 19 though, the others might just be adjusted in proportion

thank u for reading, i love ensemble casts and da2 and mcr and rebellion and also being gay. fic title and chapter title come from “look alive, sunshine” (by mcr of course lol)

read it on ao3

—

Bethany has never been one to complain, but she has to admit, her knee hurts like a bitch.

The rest of the Birds take down the remaining Draculoids fairly easily, so she doesn’t feel as bad about having to hide crouched behind a crate on the ground. If there were more of them, or if there was a Scarecrow, she’d probably try to keep fighting despite her injury, but this is just a small, unlucky group of Dracs, leaderless and mindless in their pursuit of one of the biggest gangs in the Zones. Perhaps a Scarecrow would have ordered them not to try to fight a group of eight fairly seasoned Killjoys.

When the guns stop firing and the Dracs lie dead in the desert sand, Isabela’s voice floats over. “You know, Blondie, a smoke bomb would’ve helped.”

Anders sighs. Bethany can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Those things don’t grow on trees, you know. And even if they did, it’s not like we have many trees out here. You think I want to waste them on a group like that? We got rid of them just fine.”

Bethany peers out from behind the crate just in time to see Isabela shrug and gesture to her. “Well, at the very least, it might’ve saved Sunshine from being shot.”

At that, Carver seems to snap to attention. “Bethany’s hurt?”

Now it’s Bethany’s turn to sigh. Gingerly stretching her leg out and trying not to wince, she says, “It’s not that bad, Carver.”

Marian huffs, shoving her red-and-black ray gun back into its holster. “‘Not that bad,’ my ass.” She sounds angry, but there’s an edge of worry to her voice that Bethany knows like the back of her hand. “A few more shots like that and you’d have been dusted for sure.”

“But I wasn’t,” Bethany replies. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Anders rummaging through their supplies for the first aid kit.

“But you could’ve been,” Carver adds, crossing his arms and glaring at Marian as if she had something to do with the injury.

Marian scowls defensively. “What are you looking at me for? I was killing Dracs! Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to show off at every opportunity, you could protect her better!” She sneers out the word protect.

“Maybe if you actually thought before you acted for once in your life—”

“Hey!”

Garrett’s voice rings out above everything else, so loud and firm that for a split second it feels like the whole world stops. These are the moments when Garrett Hawke is at his most serious and his most powerful: when he’s breaking up an argument between Carver and Marian.

“How about instead of blaming each other for Bethany’s injury,” he says, his hands held up in an appeasing manner, “we set up camp here and rest for the evening?”

Marian and Carver exchange glances. After a pause, it’s Marian that says, “Fine.”

The place in question is an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Zone Four, not so remote that it’s off the map, but remote enough that there aren’t a whole lot of Dracs crawling around (and even fewer now that they’ve taken care of this group). A few empty crates and barrels litter the ground surrounding it, some knocked over or zapped from previous firefights. Other than that, there are no recent signs of life—which means it’s a perfect place for the Birds of Passage to recuperate.

Bethany pushes herself to her feet, using the top of the crate to balance herself. Her knee hurts even more when she tries to stretch it out or place any weight on it, but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone help her.

“Are you alright?”

Well...almost anyone.

She lifts her head up at the sound of Merrill’s lilting voice. The girl’s black hair is plastered to her tattooed and sweat-covered face, not long enough to pull up into a ponytail like Bethany’s, but just long enough to get in the way. “I can help you get inside, if you want,” she says, holding her hand out. “Then we can take a look at it, get it all wrapped up.”

For a moment, Bethany just stares at her, searching her face for any signs of pity. Instead she finds only sincere concern for a companion, the same as it would be if any of the others were injured. With a nod, she lets Merrill wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her slowly into the warehouse. She can feel the eyes of the rest of the group on them, some more subtle than others, but she knows deep down that they’re just making sure she’s okay. Like it or not, she and Carver are the youngest, and though he tries so obviously hard to act like he isn’t, there are still moments where the others look at him and remember that he’s only nineteen, too—moments like right now, as he paces agitatedly across the floor, looking like he’s never been more stressed in his life.

“Carver,” Bethany calls as Merrill helps her sit up against the wall, her legs stretched out. “I’ll be fine.” She laughs a little despite the stinging pain. “It’s not like we’ll have to amputate it or anything.”

Anders kneels down beside her, first aid kit in hand and a good-natured smile on his face. “We might.”

Merrill smacks his arm. “Don’t scare them!” she hisses as she sits down next to Bethany.

Garrett turns to Carver, cool and composed. “She’s fine,” he says matter-of-factly, a playful smirk on his face. “If it were really that bad, none of us would be joking.”

Carver snorts. “You might.”

Garrett puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Dear brother, you wound me.”

Merrill giggles as she watches them, her gaze soft. “Your siblings remind me of my family sometimes,” she says as Anders begins cleaning and dressing the wound. “Well-intentioned, but sometimes they need to be reminded that you’re an adult, same as them.”

Bethany nods. If there’s anyone that understands her, it’s Merrill. “To be fair,” she says quietly, “sometimes I need to be reminded of that, too.”

Merrill turns to look at her, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Then I’ll remind you,” she says. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to always agree or go along with them. You can stand up for yourself like anyone else.”

Bethany nods again, unable to stop a faint smile from breaking through. Anders doesn’t say anything, but she can see the blush on his face, as if he’s just witnessed something he feels he wasn’t meant to see.

—

The Hawkes are only on the run for a month or two before they meet their first recruit (and fifth member).

Well, perhaps “on the run” isn’t the right phrase. All Killjoys are technically “on the run” from Better Living Industries—it comes with the whole “openly rebelling against your corrupt government” thing. But it doesn’t really feel like running. It feels like surviving. Every Killjoy knows it’s dangerous to stay in one place for too long.

Still, they’re traveling a lot more than they did when their parents were both still alive. Growing up in the Zones outside of Battery City, away from BLI brainwashing, the Hawke children learned how to thrive in the desert fairly quickly, which meant that their family was able to more easily live off the land for longer periods of time.

Now, though, after selling most of their belongings, they live out of their car, a black 1969 Chevy Camaro convertible, spray-painted with two red stripes down the sides and a red bird symbol on the hood (courtesy of Garrett). In honor of their surname as well as their living situation, they’ve christened themselves the Birds of Passage.

For obvious reasons, one of their most common pit stops is one of several Dead Pegasus gas stations littering the Zones. The siblings usually draw straws to determine which one of them has to pump the gas.

“Damn! Again?” Carver says, staring at the short straw between his fingers in disbelief. Frowning, he starts to open the left-side car door. “Just my luck.”

In the driver’s seat, Marian reaches into the back and pats Carver on the shoulder, a smirk on her face. “You’ll live. Now go.” With that, she gives him a light shove out the door. Carver snorts.

As he starts pumping the gas, Marian absentmindedly surveys the area, not really expecting to see anything out of the ordinary. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she spots someone she’s never seen before at one of the other fuel pumps: a petite girl filling up a black and forest green motorbike.

Bethany seems to notice her at the same time. “Who’s that?”

Garrett strokes his beard, like an asshole. “No idea.”

“Let’s find out.” Before anyone else can respond, Marian hops out of the car, popping the collar of her black leather jacket. She’s mostly tuned Garrett out at this point, but she thinks she can hear him warn her not to scare the poor girl. He underestimates her ability to be charming rather than terrifying.

The first thing Marian notices is that the girl dresses like a Killjoy. Her brown boots have flowers painted on the sides, and her acid-washed jeans are ripped and dirty. The back of her denim vest features a large daisy with white petals and a yellow center, and in the center is a radiation hazard symbol.

“Nice logo,” Marian says as she approaches.

The girl yelps in surprise, nearly dropping the gas pump in her hands. When she turns around, Marian sees that her face is adorned with branch- or root-like tattoos on her cheeks, forehead, and chin. “Oh!” she says, clearly taken aback. “Uh…thank you.”

Marian can practically hear Garrett’s “I told you so” from the Camaro. Holding a hand up, she says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Somehow, her voice still comes out sounding gruff and vaguely threatening.

“Oh, that’s alright,” the girl replies, leaning against her motorcycle and seeming to relax a little. “I was just filling up Feathers.”

Marian raises an eyebrow. “Strange name for a motorcycle.”

The girl blushes. “Well, I named it after a pet I had when I was younger.”

“Oh,” Marian says, nodding. That makes a bit more sense. “A bird?”

The girl laughs a little and shakes her head. “Oh, no, it was a lizard. I always wanted a bird so I could name it Feathers. But I grew up in the Zones, and there aren’t many birds out here. Lots of lizards, though.” She gives Marian a lopsided smile. “I took what I could get.”

Marian can’t help it; she laughs, though in the back of her mind, she wonders why she’s never seen this girl before, if she grew up in the Zones.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the girl says, her green eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I didn’t even introduce myself.” She holds out a hand, both of which are covered in long, fingerless fishnet gloves that end near her elbows. “Deadly Daisy. Daisy for short. Or you can just call me Merrill. I don’t mind.”

That explains the logo. “Kitty Hawke,” Marian replies, shaking Merrill’s hand firmly.

Merrill nods and starts to speak again, but something behind Marian makes her stop and narrow her eyes in confusion. “Who—?”

Marian glances over her shoulder and nearly jumps out of her shoes. Not one, not two, but all three of her siblings have decided to join the conversation.

“Firebird,” Garrett says, bowing dramatically—so dramatically, in fact, that it makes his stupid sunglasses fall off his face. Garrett has a habit of collecting weird sunglasses and goggles and such. This particular pair has bright orange lenses, which Marian is pretty sure do nothing to block out the sun, and flames sticking out on either side.

Marian rolls her eyes. “My twin brother,” she explains. “It seems I stole all his brain cells in the womb.”

Garrett blows a raspberry at her as he picks his sunglasses off the ground and uses his shirt to wipe off the sand and dirt.

Bethany steps forward, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears, one of her nervous habits. “Midnight Sun,” she says with a tiny smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! You, too!” Merrill says. Gesturing to Carver, who has yet to say anything, she asks, “Who’s the grumpy one?”

“I’m not—” Carver starts, but he cuts himself off at the sound of his siblings’ snickering. “Fantom Fighter,” he says, his face heating up. “Two Fs.” He turns around and gestures to the two large black Fs painted on the back of his jean jacket. Then, gesturing to Bethany, he adds, “I’m her twin brother.”

Bethany chuckles. “And we’re all siblings.”

Merrill cups her hands over her face. “Oh, my goodness.”

Marian clears her throat. “Anyway,” she says, side-eyeing Garrett, “why are you guys even here?”

Garrett throws his hands up. “Don’t look at me! I am but a slave to the whims of our younger siblings!”

Bethany and Carver exchange embarrassed glances, then both turn to glare at Garrett. Marian sighs. They’re all a mess.

“Oh, well, I shouldn’t keep you,” Merrill says, patting the side of her motorcycle. “Feathers and I can get moving, if you all need to leave.”

That catches Marian’s attention. “Wait, you’re traveling alone?” She hadn’t seen anyone else around, but she’d assumed that Merrill had at least one companion somewhere, perhaps inside the shitty convenience store connected to the gas station.

Merrill nods. “I was raised by neutrals,” she says—people who live outside Battery City, but don’t openly rebel against BLI. “I didn’t become a Killjoy until just recently. I haven’t really found a group yet.”

That explains why Marian’s never seen her before. Neutrals tend to stay out of the way unless they run a business, like their friend Varric.

“That’s dangerous, you know,” Carver says, but he sounds less matter-of-fact and more concerned. “You’re a lot more likely to get ghosted by yourself.”

Merrill sighs. “I know. But what am I supposed to do? Invite myself to tag along with the next Killjoy gang I see?”

Garrett shrugs. “Why not? You could tag along with us.”

To be fair, Marian had been thinking that, too, in the back of her mind, but it still stuns her to actually hear it spoken.

Merrill’s eyes widen with hope. “That would be wonderful, but I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Instinctively, Marian and her siblings all turn to look at each other, none of them saying anything, just glancing back and forth with various facial expressions ranging from embarrassment to uncertainty to excitement. Finally, Marian turns back to Merrill and says, “You wouldn’t be imposing. We’d be glad to have you join us.”

Merrill gasps. “Oh, thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

Bethany smiles. “Welcome to the Birds of Passage, Daisy.”

(At the use of Merrill’s Killjoy name, Marian briefly wonders just how long her siblings had been eavesdropping before Merrill noticed them.)

“We’re headed to one of the outer Zones for the evening,” Carver explains. “You could follow us on your bike until we find a place to set up camp.”

“Oh, perfect!” Merrill says. “I’ve been meaning to head that way. Too many Dracs this close to Bat City.”

When the Hawkes climb back into the Camaro, Marian steals a glance at Merrill in the rearview mirror, watches as their newfound companion unties a green bandana from her belt loop and wraps it around her head to keep her hair out of her face. When Marian steps on the gas pedal and tears out of the Dead Pegasus parking lot, the roar of the motorcycle lets her know that Deadly Daisy is right behind them.

—

Fenris doesn’t sleep well that night.

Granted, Fenris doesn’t sleep well most nights, but for some reason, the night after Bethany gets shot in the leg is particularly bad. Maybe it’s the hard concrete floor of the warehouse, which no amount of blankets or cushions can completely alleviate. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s lying only a few feet away from Garrett, who sleeps like a log and snores like a chainsaw. Maybe it’s the pain in his shoulder from an injury a few days prior.

Or maybe it’s the fact that tonight, his nightmares are worse than usual. Tonight, when he dreams, he is alone, but worse than that: the bodies of his fellow Killjoys lie dead at his feet, glassy eyes wide, their hands still on the triggers of their guns. Draculoids—more Dracs than he’s ever seen at one time—close in on him, zombielike in the way they reach for him, pull at him from every angle, pin him to the ground and snarl in his face. He’d fight if he could, fight with everything he has, but his body is stiff and frozen, and no amount of willpower can force even his mouth to move. For a man with an aversion to closeness and touching, and painful tattoos from BL/ind experimentation, the sensation of being trapped makes him feel like he’s about to vomit.

It’s when they pull out a Drac mask and shove it over his head that he wakes up gasping for breath.

It takes a few minutes for his body to relax and his heart to stop pounding in his ears. Fenris can see the faintest bit of morning light trickling through the windows—he’d guess that it’s around five o’clock—and concludes that attempting to get a decent amount of sleep will probably be a fruitless endeavor. Sighing and forcing himself to sit upright, he reaches into the small backpack beside him and pulls out a Killjoy-made magazine that they snagged at the last gas stop.

The zine is filled with artwork of desert landscape and rebels fighting BL/ind, accompanied by writing—a few short stories and poems, a few articles and essays, all about the highs and lows of revolution. It’s a perfect representation of life in the Zones, every copy made by hand, since few (if any) Killjoys have access to a working printer. However many were made, probably no more than twenty, the artists and authors must have had to redraw and rewrite their work. Two Polaroid photos are taped to the inside cover, one of a Dead Pegasus gas station at sunset, the other of two female Killjoys kissing, with their names listed at the bottom. There are probably different photos in every copy, likely taken from the same photographer, someone lucky enough to have access to a working Polaroid camera (though Fenris concedes that it’s actually not too difficult to find batteries out here, though they might be half-empty).

He’s so focused on flipping through the zine that he doesn’t realize anyone else is awake—at least, not until the sound of someone sitting down next to him nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

“Sorry,” Anders whispers, holding a hand up. Behind him, the orange light of the sunrise creates a halo around his blond head. “I assume you couldn’t sleep, either?”

Fenris makes a noncommittal grunt, enough to give Anders his answer, but curt enough to hopefully get his I don’t want to talk about it message across. He’d rather not have to even think about the nightmares that his subconscious assaults him with, let alone explain them.

“Alright,” Anders says with an understanding nod. He glances over at the zine, skimming the page Fenris has it open to with clear interest.

Fenris holds it out for him to take. “You can look through it.”

Anders hesitates for a moment before obliging. Fenris watches his face as he flips through the pages. The brilliant poetry and detailed artwork seem to fill him with awe, similar to what Fenris felt browsing the zine’s contents, but there’s something else, too, something deeper—something like longing.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Anders says finally, slowly closing the booklet. “I just remembered, and I think you deserve to know.” He glances over at the windows, and the sun shines on his pale face, reflecting off of his gold earring. Without looking at Fenris, he says, “You have a sister, named Varania.”

Fenris blinks in surprise. A sister? Anders apparently knew him when they both lived in Battery City, before BLI wiped Fenris’s mind—or reprogrammed him, as they like to call it. It’s times like these that make him feel like Anders knows him better than he himself does. “And you’re just now telling me this?” Fenris says in an attempt to mask his bewilderment. A sister. He has a sister.

“You only mentioned her once or twice,” Anders says. “It was the last thing on my mind. But something reminded me of it this morning, so I figured I’d tell you.” He shrugs. “I don’t know much else about her. But I know she’s still alive, or she was by the time I left Bat City.”

Sister. Sister. Sister. His brain repeats it so often that it no longer really feels like a word. He knows he’d be angry if Anders had kept this hidden from him, but at the same time, he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do with the information. She’s probably still in Battery City, which means it’s too late and far too dangerous to go back and search for her, or even attempt to write a letter to her.

Still, he feels like he has to say something. “Well,” he mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Thank you. For telling me.” Then, tilting his head to the side, he adds, “May I ask what reminded you?”

Anders sighs and pushes a few loose strands of hair out of his face. “She appeared in a dream last night.”

Fenris doesn’t expect it to hurt, but it does, just a little. To think that he doesn’t even know what his own sister looks like, while a man who barely knows anything about her sees her in his dreams.

Abruptly, Anders hands the zine back to him and stands up, covering his eyes with a hand to block out the sun. Fenris glances down at the page he left open: a poem written in an angry hand, calling for revolution, calling for justice.

—

Varric Tethras is what people in the Zones call a “neutral.” He doesn’t wear the flashy clothes, he goes by his real name, and he tends to stay in one spot minding his own business rather than get into fights with Draculoids. He has his own little gas station convenience store in Zone Three and is an expert at aiding Killjoys without giving BLI a reason to go after him. In short, he’s the perfect person to go to when there’s trouble, and there’s always trouble.

The trouble this time has nothing to do with BL/ind, for once; about five miles away from Varric’s shop, the Camaro broke down, so Marian had to jump start it using Merrill’s motorcycle, and now they’re hanging out in the store while she tries to fix the car.

Garrett frowns as he glances out the window at the setting sun. “We might have to camp out here for the night, Varric.” It’s not the first time, and he knows Varric doesn’t mind, but he still feels bad about it.

Varric waves a hand nonchalantly. “Yeah, I figured,” he says from behind the store counter, where he seems to be digging through some junk he’s stored underneath. Varric is a whopping four-foot-eight, so the chair he uses to reach the counter makes most other people who sit in it look like giants. Merrill finds a particular delight in this, and she’s so sweet that anyone would feel terrible asking her to get off of it, even Marian, which has been an especially interesting phenomenon to witness.

As if on cue, the front door swings open, and there stands Marian, covered in grease and wearing nothing but a sports bra and ripped black shorts. “I’m turning in for the night,” she says as she waltzes into the shop, letting the door slam shut behind her. “Round two starts in the morning.”

Garrett watches as she heads into the bathroom to wash herself off. Carver came in from practicing his shooting about a half hour ago (and is currently sitting on the floor eating potato chips), so now they’re all inside for the evening. Bethany’s been drawing quietly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sits on the worn couch in one of the back rooms, and Garrett and Merrill have been making their own fun out front. The store is Varric’s home, so he had to get creative with the few extra rooms.

Garrett is wandering aimlessly through the little aisles, examining various snacks, all stamped with the BLI logo, when he hears the front door open, and in walks possibly the most gorgeous Killjoy Garrett has ever seen.

The first thing he notices is the shock of silver-white hair, the way the undercut contrasts against the man’s brown skin. The dim light of the store reflects against his leather jacket and his surprisingly wide eyes. When he takes a few steps forward, a chain hanging from his black jeans—yes, jeans, in the desert—makes a jangling sound, and his heavy footsteps suggest combat boots. He looks like he just walked out of a mosh pit, but that’s not what intrigues Garrett the most. No, what really catches his attention is the pale white tattoos that stretch from the man’s bottom lip down into his chest and out to the tips of his fingers—they almost seem to glow. “Varric?” the man calls in a deep voice as he surveys the area.

Varric pops his head out from the back of the store. “Oh-ho! Long time no see, Wolfy!”

The man rolls his eyes at the nickname and leans awkwardly against one of the snack aisles. “I see you are having a sleepover,” he says slowly as he eyes each of the Birds suspiciously (save for Marian, who is still washing up, thankfully). Bethany walks out into the store to see him better, and Garrett flashes him his best good-natured smile, causing the man to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Their car broke down not far from here,” Varric explains as he walks out from behind the store counter. “And because I’m just so charitable, I let them stay for the night.” That’s his way of saying that they’re friends.

“Hm.” The man makes his way through the store, seemingly on edge, like he’s keenly aware of the way the Birds glance his way out of the corners of their eyes, pretending that they’re not looking at him. Eventually, Garrett gives up on trying to be inconspicuous and plops down in a chair pushed up against one wall, allowing himself to stare openly. He’s never been good with subtlety.

Suddenly Marian’s voice rings out through the shop. “Who’s this?”

Varric clears his throat. “Birds of Passage, allow me to formally introduce you to the Painted Wolf. He’s kind of new, doesn’t have a gang to roll with yet.”

The Painted Wolf looks away, not making eye contact as he wanders into another aisle where he can’t as easily be seen. “I think I would prefer to keep it that way. No offense.”

After a few beats of silence, Merrill says from her place on top of the chair behind the store counter, “You have tattoos, like me.”

Instinctively, almost as if he was expecting it, the Wolf replies, “But you received yours willingly, I’ll wager.”

Merrill blinks in surprise. “Well. Yes, I did. You mean you didn’t?”

The Painted Wolf does not respond, just runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath through his nose.

Garrett frowns a little and stands back up, making his way over to where Marian is still standing in front of the bathroom door, her arms crossed. “Don’t tell me,” she says quietly. “You think we should let him come with us.”

Garrett shrugs. “Well, why not? He doesn’t have anyone. And he’s…intriguing.”

Marian rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you think he’s hot.”

“I do not,” Garrett lies, but his face heats up, giving him away. “Okay, well, maybe I do, but that’s not the only reason.”

Marian shakes her head. “He doesn’t seem too keen on making friends. I mean, he just said he’d rather be alone. Also, what you call ‘intriguing’ I call ‘suspicious.’ The man’s got secrets.”

“So do we,” Garrett says, though at the moment he can’t think of anything particularly damning. If nothing else, he’s sure Carver’s got something embarrassing.

“You being gay doesn’t count as a secret when you gawk at any man that isn’t related to us,” Marian says, a tiny smirk forming on her face.

“That’s not what I meant!” Garrett says. He can feel his face turning even redder. He needs to find a way to get Marian on his side, and if he can’t do it with emotion, then maybe he can do it with logic. “Seriously, I think we should talk to him. He’s a new Killjoy, but he looks way more experienced than most newbies. He might even be older than us. I’d be willing to bet he knows something about BL/ind. I just think he’d be good to have on our side. And it’s not like he has to stay with us forever.”

Marian seems to think it over for a long time. It’s different than it was with Merrill. Unlike the Wolf, Merrill had expressed a clear interest in finding a group to fall in with, and the Birds just happened to be the first ones to click with her. Also, Marian is a lesbian and about ten times more suspicious of men than she is of women as a general rule, which is fair, but it makes these things difficult sometimes. Finally, she says, “Fine. If you can convince him, then I’m game. I can go tell the others.” She cracks her knuckles. “At the very least, he looks like he knows something worth knowing.”

Garrett holds his hands up. “Well, hopefully you won’t have to beat it out of him, so you can stop with the threatening looks.”

Marian snorts. “Just asserting my dominance, my dear little brother.” She reaches forward and musses his hair.

Garrett shakes his head as he starts to head over to the other side of the store, where the Wolf is standing. He doesn’t bother pointing out that she’s only older than him by nine minutes, because she’ll hang those nine minutes over his head until the day they die.

The Painted Wolf looks up from the magazine he’s been flipping through. “Let me guess,” he says. “You want me to join your gang.”

Garrett smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? We think you’d be a good addition to the team.”

The Wolf frowns and puts the magazine back on the rack. “You barely know anything about me.”

“I know you’re a Killjoy traveling alone, and that’s enough for me,” Garrett says, and it’s the truth. Killjoys stick together. It’s the law of the desert. It’s how they survive.

The Wolf narrows his eyes. “I already said I prefer to be alone.”

Garrett folds his arms over his chest, allowing his knowledge of the Zones to give him confidence. “That’s how I can tell you’re new,” he says. “Rule number one of making it as a Killjoy: find a gang. Hordes of Dracs are less likely to target larger groups, and even if they do, you have a better chance of making it out alive when you’re not alone. If you watch our backs, we’ll watch yours.”

The Wolf nods slowly, as if this just confirmed something he already suspected. “You watch our backs, we’ll watch yours,” he repeats to himself. “It’s...a sentiment I am not entirely familiar with.”

“I figured you were from Bat City,” Garrett says, stroking his beard thoughtfully. (Carver and Marian like to make fun of him when he does that. Marian says it makes him look like an asshole.)

The Wolf nods again. “The sense of camaraderie was one of the things that drew me to the Zones, and to the Killjoy lifestyle specifically. But until now, I suppose I have been too wary to actively engage in it.”

Garrett raises an eyebrow, careful not to show too much excitement. “Until now, you say?”

The Wolf gives the softest chuckle, his mouth curving briefly upward. “Perhaps you have a point about me traveling alone. BL/ind knows that I left Battery City; no doubt they’re looking for me. It...would be prudent to join a larger group, at least for a little while.”

Garrett allows himself the beginnings of a grin. “It definitely would.”

The Wolf clears his throat. “I...never got your name,” he says, fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of his jacket.

“Firebird,” Garrett replies, holding a hand out for him to shake.

The Wolf looks at it for a moment before responding. “Well, then, Firebird,” he says slowly, “if you’ll have me, I would like to travel with you and your gang.”

“I certainly would love to have you,” Garrett replies, only realizing how strange it sounds once the words are out of his mouth. His face heats up. “I...I didn’t mean it like—”

Across the room, Marian calls, “Real smooth.” Garrett flips her off.

An awkward little smile forms on the Wolf’s face. “I know what you meant,” he says, but if Garrett isn’t mistaken, he’s blushing, too.

—

A few days later, Varric, whose talents include knowing everything that’s happening in the Zones, says, “So I got a tip that there’s someone after you guys.”

Isabela rolls her eyes and leans against the counter, conscious of the way her ripped white jean shorts ride up her ass—she’s doing it on purpose, and she peers over her shoulder to make sure Marian’s watching. “Someone’s always after us, Varric. This isn’t new.”

“No, like a major someone,” Varric replies. “Does the name Meredith Stannard mean anything to any of you?”

The Birds exchange glances from their various positions throughout the shop. They’ve all heard the name, but only Fenris and Anders seem to know who she is. Makes sense, since they’re the only ones who have actually lived in Battery City and seen BL/ind’s inner workings up close.

“She’s a Scarecrow, right?” Marian says from behind Isabela. She steps forward and takes a large sip out of her Neptune Pop can. “Isn’t that all we need to know?”

“She isn’t just any old Scarecrow,” Fenris says as he examines the shelves for more food. “She is one of the Director’s favorites—very high-ranking, always flanked by six or more Draculoids and sometimes other Scarecrows. I have known a few BL/ind workers who do not wish to kill, but do so because they fear the consequences of disobeying.” He shakes his head, speaking calmly but severely. “Meredith is not one of them. She kills out of hate and nothing less. She views it as her duty, a mission she will carry out until the day she dies. I suggest taking her seriously. She has slaughtered many of you.”

The way he refers to Killjoys isn’t lost on Isabela. It’s been a little less than a year, she thinks, since he left Battery City and joined the rebels in the Zones, but he still seems hesitant to identify himself as one of them. He still refers to them as you instead of us.

His words send a brief chill down Isabela’s spine, but she shakes it off and looks up at Marian to gauge her reaction. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t seem fazed.

“It doesn’t matter how many of us she’s killed,” she says. The piercings in her left ear gleam in the light from the windows. “She bleeds just like the rest of us, and she’ll die just like the rest of us.”

Varric holds a hand up. “Fair point, I suppose. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. My source says Meredith considers you guys one of the most dangerous gangs in the Zones. That means one of her biggest priorities is wiping you out. Just...be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name,” Marian says as she finishes her Neptune Pop, crushes the can in one hand, and launches it across the store, causing Anders to duck because of his ridiculously long bird legs. The can lands in the garbage bin with a loud crash.

Marian grins. It’s lopsided, and her teeth are crooked and stained with soda, but it just makes Isabela want to kiss that alluring, imperfect mouth even more.

“I thought your middle name was Selene,” Merrill says from her designated spot in Varric’s chair. They call it the Tallening Chair.

Marian’s face softens, and her cheeks turn pink as she gently explains to Merrill that it’s a figure of speech. Isabela watches in silence until Marian suddenly turns to her, lightly smacks her ass, and says with a playful glint in her eyes, “Well, back to business.”

Isabela smirks. Works every time.

—

It only takes half an hour for Marian’s nonchalance about Meredith Stannard to come back and bite her in the ass.

“Guys!”

Garrett bursts through the front door of Varric’s shop, his eyes wide and panicked. He’d been outside restocking the trunk with supplies. “I think we’ve got company.”

Marian peers outside, and the rest of the Birds do the same. Sure enough, veering into the parking lot are two white vans with the Better Living Industries symbol emblazoned on their doors.

Shit.

In a flash, they all whip out their ray guns and rush outside just in time to see a horde of Dracs pouring out of the vans. Then, from the passenger seat of one of the vans, a woman climbs out. She’s tall, blonde, and middle-aged, and her eyes seem to pierce right through them.

“Ah,” she says as the Dracs line up behind her, brandishing their plain white ray guns. “The notorious Birds of Passage, or so you call yourselves.” As she speaks, she pulls out her own weapon and seems to aim it straight at Marian. “It looks as though you’ve been expecting me.”

For a moment, the two groups just stand there silently, revolvers pointed at one another, a classic example of a Mexican standoff. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the atmosphere, like the atoms themselves have stopped moving completely. Then Meredith snaps her fingers with her free hand, and the desert explodes in gunfire.

——

killjoy names: garrett - firebird marian - kitty hawke bethany - midnight sun carver - fantom fighter merrill - deadly daisy anders - nuclear blonde isabela - storm chaser fenris - the painted wolf

#SORRY FOR THE LONG AS FUCK AUTHORS NOTE THE REST WILL NOT BE THAT LONG #dragon age 2 #da2 #hawkebela #fenhanders #bethmerrill #hawke #isabela #fenris #anders #bethany hawke #merrill #f!hawkebela #m!fenhanders #male hawke #female hawke #garrett hawke #marian hawke #my fics

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