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equallyshaw · 1 year ago

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star crossed lovers | connor bedard

↳ oc hughes sister x connor bedard blurb + tiny insta post

↳ au masterlist!

↳ takes place in 2025!

warnings: swearing and angst. oh, and underage drinking.

been sitting on this one for a few weeks, wasn't sure if i liked it enough to post but decided to post it and get on with life lol

word count: 4.2k+

Two households, both alike in dignity...

it wasn't supposed to happen, thats what kailey kept telling herself every time she went to go see the rookie. yet each and every time, she found herself staying long and longer. before she knew it, she'd stayed a full weekend with the guy before going back to her off-campus apartment.

straight a - honors, french/spanish fluent, and lacrosse player kailey clara hughes was never meant to meet connor bedard. she never had any interest in hockey players despite her whole family and immediate friend groups being all in with it. yet here she was, absolutely head over heels for the hockey player and she knew they were doomed. partially because of who her brothers were.

or was it?

◦

her best friend and roommate had dragged her and another friend to a small diner in the loop one december evening before they'd all be going back home for break, and that's when the trio spotted their group. the girls had been walking past them when she noticed alex vlasic, who played with jack at usndtp and quickly shrieked. "oh my god vlassy!" she smiled widely and when alex recognized her, he quickly got up to hug her. "oh my god, you're here! I'm so happy for you, you deserve it." she said as the two pulled away. "thanks hughesy, appreciate it. hows everybody? hows mama el?" he questioned and she smiled. "they are good! she's now working with the program but with the girls program, shes absolutely loving it." she said and alex smiled widely. "that's so her, im glad." he paused seeing her friends sit down, "i wont keep you anymore. but don't be a stranger, ok?" he said and she nodded before walking to her booth. as soon as she did, all the guys looked over as alex pointed towards the blonde, and she felt like she could curl up in a ball and never be seen again. before she looked away, she caught connor's eye before he looked away.

before she went to bed that evening, she got a follow request from the one and only connor bedard. her thumb hovered over the request, before pressing accept.

◦

the two had been dating since janurary, so smooth sailing for 7 months when connor's name had come up on her phone while she was in the other room. her brother jack picked up being the nosy person that he is, and instantly recognized the rookie. before connor could say anything, jack hung up and screamed for the girl. she was in the kitchen with her mom, and the two were in the middle of baking chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. she looked up from the bowl, her laugh and smile quickly falling when she saw the look on her older brothers face.

"jack?" ellen questioned, as jack stared at kailey. "jack?" kailey questioned with doe-like eyes. he shook his head, anger seething and angry tears ready to spill. "why is he calling you?!" he demanded, holding up her phone. her head tilted a bit in confusion, "stop yelling at her. calm down." quinn said from the couch to the right of kailey and their mom. "have something to tell us, missy?" jack said with his voice the same volume. "jack, stop it." ellen said and jack laughed, "you know don't you?" he asked not believing it. "know what?" luke asked coming down the stairs, "she's seeing a boy!" jack said and the boys all looked at one another before looking at kailey. "but more specifically, its who she's seeing." jack added and the boy's were confused. "oh god not one of my friends kails." luke said coming behind her to grab a bottle of water. kailey rolled her eyes, "id rather die." she said and luke shoved her a bit. "who is it though?" luke asked taking up the bar stool in front of her and their mom. her phone began to ring again, and kailey began her descent over to her brother.

"jack, give me my phone." she said and jack held it out of her reach, "jack rowden!" kailey screamed now, and jack froze. jack gave her her phone, and she quickly headed outside to the back to take it. she sat down on the dock. "kails?" connor asked softly once she appeared on the screen, "my brothers know about us." she said defeatedly and connor frowned. he knew why she didn't tell them, and he also knew how much it hurt her not too. "im sorry kails. i take it they were upset?" he said sitting up now. she nodded, "jack was angry, he yelled at me. though the other two are confused." she hummed, looking out into the lake. "im sorry lovey." he said and she nodded, looking back at the screen. "im excited to see you in a few weeks, I've been writing a list of thing-" and she cut him off, "i-i im not sure about that. something came up and uh, yeah." she said and connor's heart broke. he'd been drawing up a list of things to do and show her for the past few months, little things popping up at 2 am when he'd just be getting to bed. or when they'd be at a coffee shop or a on campus library, when the two would be studying. well, kailey would be and he'd be there to hang out and help her study. there was a running joke with her two friends, and they'd always recite mean girls to him: "he doesn't even go here." whenever they'd see him at their school.

"oh, wow. um, ok." he said a bit unsure of what to say. "yeah..im sorry connor." she said, as if it was a knife to the heart. they never used their full names, but here they were. "ill uh let you know when i can, i just need to go kill my brothers right now. ill talk to you later." she said before hanging up. as soon as she did, she broke down into tears. her blue eyes full of sorrow and guilt, knowing she'd never reach back out to him.

back in the house, all havoc broke lose. the three brothers interrogating ellen for all the information she knew. to her defense, she knew little but more than most. "boys stop. she will tell you when she's ready. don't pull this crap with her, she's already upset as it is." ellen scolded. "now get out of here, go do something. unless you'd like to help." she countered, and the boys quickly disappeared. kailey walked back into the house, slamming the back french doors and headed up to her room. "kails?" luke called but got no response. quinn came up behind jack who was busy texting, and slapped the back of his head. " ow! what was that for?" he questioned, rubbing it. "you are an ass." quinn said before making his way up to kaileys room. he knocked a few times before making his way in, and he found her in her bed sobbing into her pillow. "kiwi?" he questioned softly, bringing back to light a old nickname from their childhood. that only made her cry harder. he made his way over to her bed, and laid down facing her before pulling her into his chest. he rubbed her back, as she shook. "im sorry about jack." he said a few minutes later, and she groaned. "don't say his name." she mumbled and quinn chuckled. "but it doesn't matter anymore, there won't be any more of him." she said sitting up and facing her brother. his eyebrows creased in confusion, "you guys and your overprotectiveness! I've never been able to date anybody because there has always been something wrong about the guy..." she said pulling some hair behind her ears.

she licked her lips before restarting, "i never told you guys because i wanted to get to know him before you guys swooped in and told me no. before you guys came up with any bullshit excuse. i've never felt so loved before in my life quinnie. i've never felt so seen, heard, and protected. he genuinely cares about me, and not about getting to know you guys. not about what our last name can do for him or the association. i loved him quinn. god...and you would love him. all of you guys, but especially you. i have never once taken an interest in any hockey player, because truth be told yall are hard asses and i cant take any more than you three." she paused as quinn laughed. she shook her head, blushing.

quinn felt horrible, every word hitting heart. hard. "im sorry kiwi that you have felt that way about us for so long, that was never our intention. we usually just saw things before you realized it and we didn't want you to see those signs. but that does not excuse how you feel because its valid, you deserve all those things and more. and we should never get in the way of finding somebody that makes you happy. i just wish you told us sooner about him, especially then i would have been able to understand twisties text messages." he said waiting for her to understand. her blue eyes went wide, "wait! you knew?" she asked jumping up just a bit. he nodded with a smile, "yeah, mackenzie entwistle and i are friends still. and now i realize that you had no idea." he said laughing softly. "oh my god! oh my goddddd!" she said falling onto her back in embarrassment. "I've received a few karaoke videos from him too." and she cringed. "god stop talking q." she said covering her eyes with her hands. "i understand why you'd ghost the group chat a lot, at one point i was getting concerned and then twistie texted me something and it all made sense." he smiled, and she felt her cheeks heat up again.

quinn looked down at his little sister, as she removed her hands and brought them to her stomach. "when did you know?" he asked, and she looked towards him. "know what?" she said curiously, "that you loved him?" he asked leaning onto his side. she smiled looking up at the ceiling, "when he showed up to the depaul library a few blocks from my apartment in middle janurary, and told me he was not going to leave until i finished all my assignments. even though he had a game the next night. we didn't get out of there until 3. he still drove me back to my apartment, and then headed back to his. and then surprised me with coffee and a bagel before he went to the rink for the early game." she said smiling like a fool.

◦

"con, what are you doing here?" she asked looking at the time as seeing 11:58 pm. he pulled the set out in front of her in the deserted library. "i came to help you and to drive you home." he hummed pulling out a book she'd gotten him one time they were at a local bookstore. "con..you've got a game tomorrow." she said with a frown and he waved her off. "you're more important right now. your mental health is more important to me." he said not looking up from his book, and she sighed turning back to her computer. he smiled once he heard her fingers begin to type.

around 3 am he pulled into the guest parking spot, and he saw exhaustion plaguing at the girls eyes. "thankyou con, i appreciate the ride very much." she said smiling, as she unbuckled. "ofcourse. anytime." he hummed, and she leaned in. "and for helping me with my assignments." she smiled before kissing him. he placed his hand on her cheek, before pulling away. "ill see you later today." he said softly, and she nodded pecking him once more. "let me know when you get home." she said before she shut the door, and he left after she slipped into the elevator.

◦

"seems like you still love him, kiwi." he said and she shook her head. "I've already hurt him, there's no going back." she said sighing. "we were never supposed to be together, anyways. we were star crossed lovers. doomed from the very beginning."

◦

she walked back downstairs for dinner and because the smell of cookies pulled her from her room. quinn had left a little while beforehand to knock some sense into jack, and to deliver the news of the breakup. or well, kelsey's plan to ice him out. jim quickly delivered another slap in the head to jack, and jack tried desperately to defend himself. "hi kels." ellen said pulling the girl into a side hug, as kelsey looked down at the fresh cookies. "you did good." she hummed, smiling up at her mom. ellen kissed her only daughters temple before they heard the shrieking voice of jack, "k? can we talk?" he asked softly, leaning against the fridge. she sighed, looking over and jack and nodding. the two walked outside onto the deck, and Kelsey crossed her arms over her chest. the sun was setting, and she thought the lake looked gorgeous. "i want to apologize about earlier." he said coming up beside her, gauging her reaction. "i fucked up badly, and i don't think you should have broken up with him. that's not fair to him-" and she cut him off, "fair to him? him? seriously jack?" she said turning towards him with fury in her eye. the same one ellen had had many, many times over the years that was usually directed at jack.

"fair to him? what about me? every boy that I've spoken to has ended quickly because you all have something to say about them. when is it my turn, huh? when can i choose a guy and not have you down my neck about them?" she said furiously, tears beginning to pool. "i ended things so i didn't have to deal with this or anything else that you or luke have to say." she snarled before walking back into the house. quinn watched as she walked straight into the kitchen, and softly spoke with ellen. quinn was going to have to kill jack, and when his younger brother walked inside; he most certainly knew he had to.

◦

kailey headed back to the windy city a bit earlier then when she originally anticipated to, about a week into august she decided to randomly pack up her bedroom at her parents house and drove to the city all night. her best friend becca already settled in, was shocked to find the girl coming in and knocking things over at 3 am. her parents had been driving in from toronto so when they arrived home, she'd already been on the road for an hour. her parents confused and distraught, at the sight of her empty bedroom. quickly pulling their phones to check for her location to see it was off on 360, and quickly called the three brothers who were a the lake house. her phone was on silent as she drove through Indiana, listening to indie folk country on blast. it was around 4 pm the same day she arrived, becca opened her door to the three brothers disheveled and exhausted. they'd been up all night thinking of where she could have gone, who she could have been with, calling all their friends and contacts at the detroit airport and others across the country and canada. as soon as they saw the blonde on the couch eating cereal, they all let out a collective sigh. before they took one step inside the apartment they were met with becca who truth be told, was blood at this point. becca had become part of the family years ago, when she hit jack in the face with a hockey stick when they lived in toronto. which meant that becca was blood, in kaileys book.

"if you so dare lay a fucking finger or raise your voice ever so slightly, i will make your lives hell." she threatened the boys, making eye contact with the three to make sure they knew how serious she was. they nodded, swallowing hard. she made he most eye contact with jack, because he always had some 'witty' comeback to becca. he stayed silent. they walked in and made their way over to kailey who was confused and shocked that they were here. "thankgod you're safe." luke said sitting down next to her and pulling her into a hug. "where'd you think i was?" she said icily. "i don't know, europe?" jack said right on cue, and becca growled from the kitchen. he sat down on the other side of kailey who just stared at him with a blank expression. she then looked up at quinn, who still had yet to say something. he was livid, beyond belief. he'd been on edge since he got the phone call at 3 am from his parents, who were freaking out. "i don't feel like giving you a stern talking to right now, but don't do that again kailey. don't you ever think of doing that again." he warned and she swallowed, nodding softly. his eyebrow quirked, "yes quinn. i wont do it again. im sorry" she said and he nodded before heading outside to call his parents.

"why did you leave?" luke asked, "we were supposed to have our day together..." he added with a twinge of sadness. the two since they were young, spent the whole day together before they went their separate ways for the semester. as kids, him being pulled to hockey teams and her with soccer and lacrosse. "im sorry lukey, but i didn't want to be upset and alone in michigan any longer." she said not looking up at him. "but you have us?" jack said confused, "sometimes that isn't enough jack." she said sadly before turning her gaze towards the window, that overlooked the chicago river.

◦

november.

the semester was well underway, and thanksgiving break was nearing, she'd soon be heading up to vancouver to spend it with her brother while her parents went to newark. she was walking up the stairs to her floor, with a dunkin iced americano in hand, a bagel while her back ached with a 100 pound back pack. she had a few hours before her and becca would be going out to a bar near campus, where the two could slip in before they started to check for id's.

a few hours later they were slipping inside, ready to party one last time before break. they reached their friend group, saying hi to everybody before heading over to the bar to order a drink. some indie folk country student singer had just begun to sing a song, and kelsey's heart swooned. she started swaying to the song as becca was complaining about a guy she had been hooking up with for a few weeks at that point. "who is it?" kelsey asked looking over at her texts that her friend was showing her, "reichel?" kelsey said with wide eyes and becca nodded. "oh fuck. right." she said turning back to thank the bar tender. "how much?" she questioned and the bartender just pointed to the right of them, and she smiled at the guy. she saluted him with her drink, before turning away with becca. they headed back to their group before the girls wanted to get to the dance floor, which the cute guy that brought their drinks was just walking up as well.

"thankyou for the drinks!" she said over the song as the two found their way next to one another. he nodded, "ofcourse! did my one good deed for the day!" he joked and she blushed, "you used it on me?" she faked fawned, "i feel so honored." she grinned, "maybe you've got one more?" she said cheekily as his eyes lit up. she smirked, plopping his cowboy hat off of his head and slid it onto hers. "your welcome." he smiled twirling her as the two started dancing. "cant help it when i see a cowboy hat, they're a weakness of mine." she hummed before he dipped her.

connor watched from the corner of the bar, as the two danced with each other. him and some of the younger players all decided to go out for the evening, and connor was regretting as soon as he saw her walk through the door with becca. reichel had no idea she was there until, he saw her on the dance floor. in which as soon as he saw, he hurried over to surprise her. "dude just go up to her." vlasic said, his shoulder hitting connors. connor shook his head, "you've been a sad puppy all summer. go!" mackenzie entwistle said and connor sighed, before following the blonde to the bar. "can i get a water?" connor asked the bartender and they went to go fetch a bottle. "connor?" he heard to his left, the soft and angelic voice of kailey hughes. "hi kailey." he said turning towards her, and he saw soft smile begin to form. "hi." she said before taking the seltzer from the bartender, and he took her card to the register. "seems like everybody knew about reichs and becca but me." she said walking up next to him. he nodded, "its been a long and busy summer without you that's for sure." he spoke before he could catch himself. she nodded, taking the card from the bartender. "well uh, i should get back out there." she said pointing towards her friend group and she caught the eye of the guy, she'd been dancing with. his cowboy hat giving his location away. "wanna say hi to the guys?" he questioned and she hesitated, "come on they miss you." and she obliged.

kailey and connor didnt leave eachothers side that evening, spending the evening catching up with one another. connor also being interested in her studies and the semester as much as she was interested in how his season had been going. she also confessed that her brother quinn knew about the because of mackenzie, which earned a few chuckles from the guys. connor, kailey, becca and reichel made there way outside around 1 am and began their descent back to the apartment. but not before becca begged to take a picture of the two next to the sign, that stood outside of the bar. "come on cowboy." kailey hummed and he quickly dipped her; catching her by surprise.

"lets go home now." becca said pushing the two in front of her and lukas.

◦

december.

the long awaited game between the devils and hawks rolled around, with her parents taking a trip to see their kids all in one spot for the evening. connor picked up kailey from her apartment, two hours before puck drop so that her parents could see connor again and so she could catch up with her brothers just a bit too. afterwards, regardless of who won or lost; the hughes family were getting together for dinner with connor. oh, and quinn would be put on facetime at some point too.

"no devils jersey tonight, huh?" luke said with a smirk as he saw the famous chicago jersey, donned with 98. she rolled her eyes hugging him, and then jack came out and hugged her as well. "don't go too hard on him jacky, or i will cut your hair off while you sleep this summer." she joked and jack saluted her, knowing she was somewhat serious. "quinn said he's watching from van, so this game should be interesting." jack joked and she slapped his arm. "mom!" jack said rubbing his arm, and ellen just laughed. "hughesy!" nico called as he walked out of the visitors lockerroom, "heard you were gracing us with your presence tonight." he joked as she pushed her brothers aside to hug the swiss. "can never pass up an opportunity to grace everybody as the best hughes." she said sticking her tongue out at jack who did the same. "well we will leave you to it, we'll see you later. have fun!" ellen said as nico walked away. "choke." was all kailey said, faking a look of seriousness. "buh bye!" luke said pushing her away, and jack flipped her off. kailey puckered her lips, shrugged before turning around and walked to the stands with her parents.

everybody on the broadcast teams, got many shots of the hughes family. and most importantly, the jersey the youngest hughes was donning. she cheered loudly as connor was introduced, she cheered when he scored his two goals, and when the hawks won 3-1 over her brothers. as connor was introduced as the first star of the game, he quickly found where she was sitting and winked at her. she rolled her eyes playfully, before cheering once again. the three waited a bit as the fans filtered out, before she went to find connor and her parents towards her brothers. as soon as she saw connor, his whole face lit up and opened his arms to hug her. "you did so good, hun!" she said softly, before kissing his cheek. he looked down at her, still smiling before pecking her. "lets go find my family." she said pulling her hands in his, and they made their way over towards the visitor's area. "will they be like, upset?" connor asked as they turned a corner. "upset?" she questioned looking up at him. "that we won." he clarified and she giggled. "no, but im sure jack will have a comment to say about you blocking his shot." she teased and she saw connor tense up a bit, "im kidding. besides, my mom has no problem telling him off so you're good." she hummed before she turned and saw her family waiting for her. luke's face lit up, and dawned a smile as he saw kailey come into view. "sick goals tonight." luke said first as they came face to face. "thanks man. your one shift was sick, we were all in awe on the bench." connor responded, and the four guys all fell into a conversation about the game. which meant they were all hyping each other up, or the word jack would use is gassing.

ellen wrapped an arm around her daughter, and smiled once they looked at each other. "i like him." ellen whispered and kailey giggled. "i think you have some competition." kailey hummed as they watched her brothers and dad conversing with the boy she loved.

sure, they may be young but she knew she'd found the one.

◦

the two walked into connor's apartment a few hours later, and quickly got ready for bed. the two found eachother's arms as soon as she got into bed, and looked out at the city lights that were somewhat dimmed from the window tint. "you have fun?" he asked and kailey nodded. "yeah, though im sure my brothers had even more fun." she giggled turning to face him. he smiled down at her, "i think you've got two new fangirls." she added which caused him to laugh. "cheeky." he said kissing her forehead. "i love you." she said and then shot herself in the foot. "well good thing, cuz i never stopped." he said meeting her eye. she smiled, "me neither." she hummed before pulling him in for a kiss.

two star-crossed lovers, one a canadian superstar, and one an american- from a royal hockey family. they would not see the fate that shakespeare wrote about all those years ago, but one that would bring together some of the most powerful and well-respected names in hockey.

"For never was a story of more beautiful, Than this of Juliet and her Romeo,"

◦

@kaileyclara: november 🤍

tags: connorbedard, madisenbedard and beccamurphy

3.4k likes, 66 comments - comments disabled.

─

@trevorzegras: WHAT @alexturcotte: you didnt know? @trevorzegras: how does alex know about everything before me? @kaileyclara: cuz youre bad at keeping secrets t

@jackhughes: chipmunks seriously? @kaileyclara: it was that or the other meme... @jackhughes: i like this one better @_quinnhughes: so glad you're happy blondie @kaileyclara: thankyou q! i am (:

@lhughes_06: you cant dance for shit @kaileyclara: you cant either bud

@connorbedard: had a feeling you were gonna make a meme out of me @trevorzegras: its her love language @connorbedard: so I've learned @kaileyclara: you breathe and it can be turned into a meme i stg @beccamurphy: i mean...

@lukasreichel: I like the brunette @kaileyclara: i think she likes you too bud!

@elblue6: love you two! @connorbedard: love you mama el! @kaileyclara: 🫶🏻 @melanieb: so grateful for you guys! @elblue6: same here, cant wait for our girls trip! @kaileyclara: shes even circled it on my wall calender @melanieb: me too! @madisenbedard: omg she did the same on mine!

@madisenbedard: sister 🥺 @kaileyclara: the one i never had 🥺 @melanieb: we just adore you kailey! see you soon

@kaileysfriend: he doesn't even go here @beccamurphy: connor the student

random ass tags:

@hockeyboysarehot @fallinallincurls @ijustreallylovethem @cuttergauthier @skatesnstuff @why4anne @rowdyhughesy @hugheshugs @huggybug @jayda12 @sc0tters @slafgoalskybaby

#connor bedard #connor bedard blurb #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard fic #oc hughes sister #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes #chicago blackhawks #new jersey devils #hockey #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey fic #hockey blurb #hockey imagine

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coldflasher · 4 years ago

Text

Title: don’t threaten me with a good time Chapters: 1/1 Length: 7.7k Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014) Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Minor/Background Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Kamilla Hwang, Barry Allen/Iris West Characters: Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon, Kamilla Hwang, Caitlin Snow, Killer Frost, Iris West, Leonard Snart, Original Male Characters Additional Tags: Alcohol, Drunken Shenanigans, Bisexual Barry Allen, The Flash 7x12 Good-bye Vibrations.

Kamilla leaned forwards to read the front page. “The Barry Allen Drunkenness Scale.” Bemused, she looked up. “What’s this? “This,” said Cisco, “is the result of a great deal of research and a number of hard-earned lessons.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, pulling the folder towards them. “There are eight stages of Drunk Barry, each one with a varying level of severity. It begins with stage one.”

Inspired by the Santiago Drunkenness Scale from Brooklyn-99. Team Flash are throwing a party to celebrate Kamilla and Cisco’s departure from Central City, and Kamilla wants to make sure they go out with a bang. But with great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes responsibility means making sure your friend doesn’t break the sound barrier by doing the worm at Mach 2.

Read on AO3

@dctvgen (i hope this is okay!! didn’t really use any prompts but i had this one saved up and seemed like a good time to post it, lmk it’s not suitable!!)

Life came at you fast. After seven years being besties with a speedster, working to save the world, Cisco knew that to be true in more ways than one. But apparently despite everything he’d seen, it still had the capacity to surprise on him.

One minute the thought of leaving Central City had been a vague, abstract thought – a ‘what-if’ or a ‘maybe’ he dwelled upon whenever yet another crisis announced itself with a shower of broken glass raining into his Vibeuccino, or when he’d compared the news in Central City, which was all doom and gloom and murderous metas, to somewhere nice and peaceful like Keystone, where the biggest news story of the day was some kid winning the national Spelling Bee Championship. Then the job offer came in, and Kamilla had tested the waters with wanting to leave – and now their stuff was all packed and in boxes, he had a start date at ARGUS, and what had been a daydream was now a very clear reality. He’d hung up the gloves, said a final goodbye to Vibe.

It was the other goodbyes that were going to be the hard part.

“It just feels weird, you know?” he said, pausing in the middle of hanging bunting from the corner of the cortex. “We’re saying goodbye to everyone we know. This has been my life for almost eight years now. Team Flash are my family. It feels weird to celebrate leaving all that behind.”

“Don’t think of it as a celebration of what we’re leaving behind,” said Kamilla, who was sat at the desk, partway through ordering pizza. “Think of it as a celebration of everything we’ve accomplished. Making friends and building inventions and saving the world! I know it’s difficult and change can be scary, but it doesn’t have to be. We’ve done amazing things, and I think it’s important to honour that.”

Cisco sighed as he successfully stuck the flags to the wall. He climbed down from the table he was stood on and joined her at the desk in his usual chair, pushing himself back and forth with his foot. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re always right. I’m not getting cold feet, I promise. I’m excited. We’re going to make this work. We’ve done amazing things, and we’re going to do even more. Together.”

Kamilla beamed. “That’s the spirit.” She held out her hand for a fist-bump.

Grinning, Cisco returned it. “You’re such a dork.”

“Which is exactly why you love me,” Kamilla countered, with a few final clicks and a flourish as she placed the pizza order. She consulted the list on her phone. “Okay, so we’ve got the cake, the decorations, the drinks, and the pizza is in transit. There’s just one more thing we need.”

She slid past him and made her way towards the small metallic fridge tucked away in the corner. Kamilla typed in the passcode 05-20-80 – the release date of The Empire Strikes Back – and the fridge unlocked with a clunk, revealing two test tube holders – one containing a single emergency vial of Velocity IX, and another that held eight tubes of liquid a few shades lighter than blood.

Cisco glanced over, bemused. “Babe, did you stash your Kraft beers in my security fridge? Because that seems a little excessive.”

Kamilla eased the second rack of tubes off the shelf like a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven. “No, I’m just getting a couple of vials of 500 proof for Barry. I didn’t want him to feel left out of the festivities.”

Cisco had met a lot of speedsters in his time, but in that moment he was pretty sure he moved faster than any of them as he sprinted across the room to intercept. Startled, Kamilla jerked back and the test tubes clinked together like champagne glasses mid-toast.

“Sorry, can we just back up a little bit – you’re what now?” said Cisco.

“I’m grabbing some drinks for Barry,” Kamilla repeated slowly. “This is his special speedster booze, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cisco said nervously. “It is, but…”

“But…?” Kamilla prompted.

“Listen,” he said, hands up in a pacifying gesture. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but that is a highly controlled substance and it’s really in everyone’s best interests if you put it back.”

Kamilla grew wide-eyed. “Why? Is it dangerous?”

“I mean, if any normal person drank it, it’d pretty much liquidize their insides, but that’s not the problem.”

As he spoke, Cisco headed over to the shelf on the wall, ran his fingers along the various binders tucked onto the shelf, and pulled one off. Cisco carried it over to the table, pushed aside the keyboard and laid the folder flat in front of her.

“The problem,” he said, flipping it open, “is this.”

Kamilla leaned forwards to read the front page. “The Barry Allen Drunkenness Scale.” Bemused, she looked up. “What’s this?”

“This,” said Cisco, “is the result of a great deal of research and a number of hard-earned lessons.” He picked up the metal test tube rack and returned it to the fridge, his fingers flying across the buttons to input the code before he slid the vials back into place. “It’s also the reason why this stuff doesn’t leave the lab except in dire emergencies, including but not limited to break-ups, deaths and severe metahuman disasters.” Decisively, he closed the fridge and it locked again with a clunk and a beep.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you are fortunate enough to have never before encountered an inebriated Barry Allen,” said Cisco. “Let me walk you through it.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, pulling the folder towards them. “There are nine stages of Drunk Barry, each one with a varying level of severity. It starts with stage one.”

1 DRINK BARRY: A LITTLE CLINGY

One of Barry’s many wonderful qualities is his propensity for affection. Unimpeded by the bounds of modern-day toxic masculinity, 1 Drink Barry generously bestows physical affection on everyone he encounters. To put it plainly: he’s a hugger.

Standing outside Barry and Iris’ front door, Cisco checked his watch.

Usually at this time of night, he’d be hanging out in the cortex watching the red dot darting around on the monitor as Barry did a lap of the city, or in his lab tinkering with some new invention. Tonight, though, was different. They’d all agreed work was off-limits – time to take a hard-earned break. Cisco had been looking forward to it all week, but he guessed the rest of Team Flash didn’t share his enthusiasm, because they were late. That wasn’t like Caitlin at all. Shrugging, he lifted his hand to knock.

The click of heels made him turn just in time to see Caitlin bouncing up the stairs in her heels. “Hi, I’m here! Sorry I’m late; Frost and I couldn’t agree on an outfit.” She leaned in. “Did you bring the, uh…”

Cisco slid a silver flask out of his pocket slightly. “Sure did.”

“Then I guess we’re ready to go!”

“Damn right. …Ladies first?”

Caitlin knocked. They waited, listening to the rattle of six locks being unfastened one at a time, until the door opened to reveal Iris standing on the threshold wearing a tight red dress and a leather jacket.

Cisco whistled. “Damn. You look good.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” said Iris as she stepped back from the door to allow them entry. “Barry will be down in a second, he got held up at work, so he’s a little behind –”

There was a whoosh and a crackle of lightning, and Barry skidded to a stop beside her with windswept hair and a grin. “Here! Hey, guys.”

“Oh. Famous last words.” Iris reached for her purse and swung it onto her shoulder. “Well I’m also running late, so I’d better get going. You guys have fun! And try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“I’m afraid we can’t make any promises, cos everybody knows there ain’t no party like a Team Flash party!” said Cisco. “You sure you don’t wanna come with us? It’s gonna be one hell of a night.”

“Thank you, but I’m going out with a couple of the girls from CCPN tonight, so… rain check?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Cisco warned.

“You’d better.” She rested her hand on Barry’s arm. “I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Barry, and he leaned in for a kiss.

“Boo! Get a room!” Cisco hollered.

Iris rolled her eyes fondly. “Goodbye, Cisco,” she said, and headed out.

Cisco sighed. “And then there were three.” He looked from Barry to Caitlin and back again, stretching out on the sofa. “Okay, drinks!” He headed into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and three glasses in the other.

“Uh, isn’t the drinking supposed to start after you leave the house?” asked Caitlin.

“Only if you’re an amateur! You always have a drink or two before going out on the town. It’s financially savvy.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” said Barry when Cisco offered him a glass. “No use wasting perfectly good alcohol when it doesn’t even touch the sides.”

“That,” said Cisco, “is why you’ll be drinking this.” He pulled out a silver flask from inside the breast pocket of his blazer. “I call it 500 Proof 2,” he said, and held it dramatically aloft like Frodo holding the one ring.

Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “Really?” she said.

“The name’s a work in progress,” he admitted. “But the drink itself…” He kissed the flask. “She’s ready to go.”

Barry eyed the flask warily. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, you’ve earned it. The city can manage without the Flash for one night. Go on, live a little.” When Barry continued to look skeptical, Cisco started to chant. “Barry, Barry, Barry–”

Grinning, Caitlin joined in. Barry endured it for all of thirty seconds before he rolled his eyes and snatched the flask. Caitlin and Cisco both cheered.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” said Cisco.

He splashed wine into his and Caitlin’s glasses, and passed one to her. She took it with a twinkle in her eye.

“All right, Team Flash!” Cisco whooped, and they clinked their glasses against Barry’s flask before they all drank.

Barry pulled a face. “Jesus! That’s – that’s potent.” He coughed, eyes watering.

“You’re welcome,” said Cisco. “We made a couple of tweaks to the formula. It should stay in your system longer instead of just burning off in thirty seconds flat like the first batch.”

“It tastes like rocket fuel!”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll put some hairs on your chest,” Cisco said dismissively.

“You can say that again,” muttered Barry, massaging his chest.

“Speaking of hairs on your chest,” said Caitlin, curling up comfortably in her seat. “Did they grow back yet?”

“Not entirely,” admitted Barry. “It’s sort of a peach fuzz.”

“That’ll teach you not to get so close to my experiments,” said Cisco.

“Maybe it’ll teach you to label them better,” said Caitlin.

“Really? Don’t do me like that!”

“Sorry, it’s true.”

This triggered a bout of good-natured bickering as they debated the results of some of Cisco’s more disastrous experiments. Before long they were all laughing, loosened up by the drinks. Barry, who was perched on the arm of Caitlin’s chair, leaned against her.

“I love you guys, you know that?”

“We love you too, Barr – ooof! Oh. Okay,” said Caitlin, bewildered. Barry had slid off the arm of the chair and squeezed up next to her, taking up half the chair like a Great Dane still trying to sit in its owner’s lap.

“Look at him, he’s getting tipsy already,” Cisco teased.

“Shhh.” Barry rested his head contentedly on Caitlin’s shoulder. Amused, she patted his knee.

Cisco downed the rest of his drink. “All right, let’s get this show on the road.”

He offered Caitlin his hand – only to have Barry grab it instead. Then he grabbed Caitlin’s hand too.

“Oh, we’re holding hands?” said Cisco. “Is that a thing we do now?”

“It is when we’re running,” Barry said, grinning.

Caitlin’s eyes widened. “Oh. No, no, no runni–”

The rest of her sentence was lost to the wind.

2 DRINK BARRY: KINDA CLUMSY

When Barry became a speedster, he gained a massive boost in motor functions, including enhanced reflexes that have massively improved his coordination. Prior to this transformation, his ability to walk unhindered across a flat surface was roughly equal to that of Bella Swan from Twilight. Two-Drink Barry is harmless, but he must be kept at a safe distance from breakable objects.

Okay, so travelling at super speed sucked – Cisco would stick to breaches from now on, than you very much – but he had to admit it had its advantages. They’d beaten the evening rush by minutes and found themselves a table, where they had been comfortably situated for the past half hour. Since then the bar had filled rapidly, and now they were surrounded by people. Glasses clinked, bodies gyrated. All around them was laughter and the throb of music; he could feel the buzz of the bass against his elbows where they rested on the table.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” asked Caitlin. “No monsters, no metahumans… just the three of us having a few quiet drinks.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Cisco said darkly. “Also, I don’t know that the ‘drinks’ part is entirely accurate. The fastest man alive is about to lose his title. Where the hell is he?” Barry had offered to get the next round, but that was ten minutes ago and they hadn’t seen him since. Frowning, Cisco and scanned the room.

Just as he had started to get concerned, the crowd parted and Barry appeared with three glasses in his hands.

“It’s about time! What took you?”

“I’m so sorry,” said Barry. “I got held up at the bar, there was a huge li–”

Whatever he’d been about to say next was cut off as he abruptly tripped over his own feet.

All three drinks spilled everywhere. Lightning flickered as he lurched forwards to try and intercept, and he managed to right the glasses, but not before the majority of their contents had ended up all over the table.

Cisco’s plastic cup floated across the tabletop in a puddle of dismally fizzing coke, which dripped steadily into his lap. Caitlin looked down at her soaked sweater, hands held up in shock. Her eyes flared white.

“This,” snarled Frost, “is a cashmere sweater.”

Barry’s eyes were wide. “Oh my God, guys, I am so sorry.”

With a jerk of her head, Caitlin regained control. “It’s fine,” she said, then winced, presumably in response to whatever Frost snarled in the back of her head. “Really. It happens to the best of us.” She pulled the sopping wet fabric away from her with a grimace. “Um… does anyone have a tissue?”

“Let me get some paper towels!” said Barry.

Cisco reached out to stop him. “Actually, Barr, maybe you should –”

But it was too late: Barry had already turned around and crashed into a guy going in the opposite direction, who slopped beer all over himself. Cisco winced sympathetically.

“I’m sorry!” Barry said, while the guy glared and shook his wet hands.

“Maybe you should take a seat,” said Cisco.

Still apologising profusely, Barry sank onto his stool and shrank in on himself, nursing what was left of his drink while Caitlin went to get something to clear up the mess.

“So I guess those adjustments we made to the 500 proof are working, huh?” Cisco said with a smirk.

“Oh, they’re working,” said Barry. “Speaking of which, can I get a top-up?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Caitlin asked, returning with a wad of paper towels. She started to mop up the table.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m not even buzzed, seriously. Tipsy at best. Come on, hit me.” He waved at his drink.

Cisco and Caitlin exchanged looks. There was a slight flush to Barry’s cheeks, and his eyes were a little brighter than usual, but other than that he seemed stable.

“I have wanted to study how the speedforce interacts with alcohol,” Caitlin admitted. “Metabolic processes aside, I am interested to measure the effects.”

“What the hell,” Cisco said. He unscrewed the cap of the flask and tipped it in to Barry’s glass, pouring a generous measure. “Knock yourself out.”

Barry beamed and picked up his drink. “Cheers,” he said, and they all clinked their half empty glasses.

Three Drink Barry: Barry Dance-Pants

This Barry is able to flawlessly replicate the choreography for every single Britney Spears music video unprompted. So far we have been unable to determine where he acquired this information.

They all agreed that it was best if Cisco got the next round. He didn’t retrieve the next lot of drinks any faster than Barry had – if anything, he was slower; people kept shoving in front of him every time he got close to the bar – but at least the glasses stayed upright this time. When he returned to the table, though, Caitlin was alone.

“Where’d Barry go?”

Caitlin frowned. “I thought he was with you.”

“Nope.” He passed her drink over to her.

Caitlin worried at her lower lip.

“Hey, don’t stress,” said Cisco. “Barry’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”

“I don’t know. He’s been gone a while, and he wasn’t exactly steady on his feet. He might hurt himself.”

“Good thing we have a doctor on call,” said Cisco, sipping his drink.

“That’s not funny. Seriously, I’m worried about him. I’m not sure he should be left unsupervised.”

She had a point. Speed and immense clumsiness wasn’t a great combination – they’d learned that the hard way. Cisco downed the rest of his drink with a grimace. “All right, let’s go look for him.”

They got up and headed out onto the dancefloor. The music was so loud that the entire room vibrated, Britney Spears’ Womanizer throbbing through the room. Caitlin pulled back and made a face as she almost inhaled a mouthful of some stranger’s coarse blonde hair. She batted it away like cobwebs.

“Ugh. Remind me why we decided to come out on the busiest night of the week?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” muttered Cisco, craning his neck. “Man, I can’t see him anywhere. It’s like playing Where’s Wally? Hey – hey, excuse me! Can I just squeeze – guys?” He attempted to slide past a knot of people, only to give up with a frustrated sigh. “Jesus, it’s like talking to a brick wall. What the hell are they looking at?”

Caitlin stood on her toes. “It looks like...” She stopped. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

She grabbed his arm and steered him through the crowd, using him as a battering ram to force her way through. Eventually, breathless and sweaty, they made it to the outskirts of the dancefloor, where Cisco finally got a good look at exactly what had captivated everyone’s attention.

Barry was in the middle of the dancefloor, tearing it up. He strutted up and down, squatted and slut-dropped before he arched his back and pumped his hips forward in several lewd thrusts. The crowd cheered.

“Oh my God,” said Caitlin.

“He is killing it!” Cisco cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Yes, Barry!”

Barry winked and blew a kiss, rolling over to air-hump the ground with an alarming level of enthusiasm.

“Should we maybe go over there?” asked Caitlin.

“In a second,” said Cisco. He held his phone up, pressed record and zoomed in on Barry’s gyrating body, careful to keep his face in shot. “I wanna get this for posterity’s sake.”

“Cisco!” Caitlin scolded, and reached out to cover the camera.

Cisco jerked the phone out of reach. “You are aware that his ringtone for you is still thirty seconds of you butchering Summer Lovin’?”

Caitlin pursed her lips. “On second thoughts,” she said. “I hope you’re getting this in HD.”

Cisco grinned and went back to recording.

“Okay, that’s a little embarrassing,” Kamilla conceded.

“That? That was iconic,” corrected Cisco. “The man has moves. I swear he was a professional dancer in another life. I still have that video; I’ll show you later if you ask me nicely…”

“I’ll hold you to it. But none of this explains why this stuff has to be so rigorously controlled. I mean, being clumsy, affectionate, kinda sloppy, tearing it up on the dancefloor… that sounds like pretty standard drunk behaviour.”

“The first three drinks aren’t the problem,” Cisco said darkly. “It’s what comes after that you have to worry about. See, drunk Barry is insatiable. One drink is never enough. Once he’s had a taste of that sweet, sweet 500 proof concentrated speedster juice, he won’t rest until he’s had more. And while he may be an icon, three-drink Barry soon gives way to…”

FOUR-DRINK BARRY: LOUD BARRY.

Barry Allen is a hero in every sense of the word. Time and time again he has sacrificed everything for the noble goal of making the world a better place. Barry doesn't save lives for the glory or the recognition; he does it because it's the right thing to do. But four-drink Barry… he thinks a little recognition might be nice.

The final chords of Womanizer faded out into a sea of applause. Beaming from ear to ear, Barry took a series of bows, flapping his hand as if to say, ‘oh, stop it!’ After a few more moments of thoroughly enjoying the spotlight, he disengaged from his loving admirers and headed back towards Cisco and Caitlin and slid breathlessly back into the booth. His sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

“Where did that come from?” Cisco asked, impressed.

Barry shrugged. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly. I think you just earned yourself another drink!”

Cisco handed him the flask, and Barry clinked it cheerfully against Cisco’s beer bottle before he tipped it back and swallowed with a grimace. His eyes watered.

“Damn. That never goes down any easier.”

“Well it is just concentrated alcohol,” Caitlin reminded him. “Speaking of which…” She pulled her testing kit out of her purse. “Four drinks should be more than enough to start showing some side-effects. Let me take a quick blood sample.” Before Barry could object, she stabbed a lancet into his finger.

“Ow!” Barry put his finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

“Everything okay there?”

They all turned. A blond man in a grey t-shirt stood a short distance away, looking at them in concern.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m good. Just hurt my finger.” He held it up ruefully.

Blondie moved closer. “Well it’s your lucky night: I’m a nurse. Why don’t you let me take a look?”

Cisco plastered on a smile. “That’s real nice of you, but our friend here is actually a doctor, so –”

Barry held out his hand, overriding Cisco’s objections. Blondie took it and examined it, tracing his palm with the tip of his finger. Cisco rolled his eyes hard and took another swallow of his drink.

“I was just watching you out on the dancefloor,” Blondie said. “Those were some impressive moves.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Barry said modestly.

“No, it was definitely something. If I busted out a routine like that I’d be laid up for a week. What’s your secret?”

“Funny you should say that, cos…” Barry leaned in and said impishly, “I’m actually the Flash.”

Cisco choked on his drink. It went straight up his nose; his sinuses were on fire. He coughed hard, eyes watering.

“Are you okay, man?” the stranger asked concernedly.

“Great,” Cisco managed.

Satisfied, Blondie’s attention returned to Barry. “Well, I think your finger’s okay.” His thumb pressed against the inside of Barry’s wrist and his forehead creased slightly. “Your pulse is pretty fast, though.”

“Is it?” Barry said, resting his chin on his hand. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes.

Blondie released him, but he showed no signs of leaving. He looked Barry appraisingly up and down. “So you’re the Flash, huh?”

“Yep,” Barry said. His eyes twinkled. “Fastest man alive.”

“Mm. Maybe we’ll have to test that.”

At this point, Cisco decided, enough was enough. He slapped Barry on the back hard enough to make him stagger and complain, “Ow!”

“Ha!” he said. “This guy. He’s a kidder, right? A real riot. Hey, uh, Barry, can I talk to you for a second?”

Before Barry could object, Cisco had grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him out of the main bar area into the corridor, where there was a line of people waiting for the bathroom. Out here it was cooler and while he could still feel the throb of the music through the sticky soles of his sneakers, at least he could hear himself think.

“Dude,” he said. “Seriously? What the hell?”

“Oh, come on. It’s just a little harmless flirting. Iris and I, we have an agreement–”

“I’m not talking about the flirting! You can’t just –” Cisco stopped and made himself take a very deep breath before he lowered his voice. “You can’t just tell people you’re the freaking Flash!”

Barry gave a slow, confused blink. “But I am the Flash.”

He didn’t say it quietly. Several heads turned their way.

Cisco gave an uncomfortable laugh and rolled his eyes, before darting them at Barry like, ‘this guy, am I right?’ After a moment, the bystanders lost interest and went back to their conversation, and Cisco lowered his voice. “I know that, Barry, but it’s a secret, remember?”

“A secret?” Barry’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh! Right, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“You know what? It’s all good. Just a little misunderstanding. But uh, let’s keep that one under wraps from now on, okay? Lips…” He mimed zipping up his mouth.

Barry nodded dutifully. “Got it.”

“Okay.” Cisco exhaled heavily. Jesus. Babysitting a drunken speedster was hard work.

Barry patted him on the shoulder. “M’gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in…” He held up two fingers. “Two seconds.”

“You’d better be. And remember –” He made the zipping motion again.

Barry imitated it, pretending to lock his mouth up and tossed away the imaginary key. Then he went to join the queue.

Feeling like he’d just aged a decade, Cisco made his way back to their booth. Mercifully, Blondie had gone to chat up some twink at the bar. Cisco sank back onto his stool and buried his head in his hands.

Caitlin, who was squeezing a few droplets of Barry’s blood onto a testing strip, made a sympathetic sound. “Not having a good time, huh?”

“I’d be having a great time if Black Canary over there could quit singing about his secret identity for five freaking minutes.” Cisco snatched the silver flask off the table and screwed the cap back on with a sharp twist. “We’re cutting him off right now, before we get into any more trouble.”

“Oh, come on, cut him a little slack. He doesn’t exactly get to let loose very often.”

“There’s letting loose and then there’s whatever the hell this is.” Cisco shook his head. “It’s like –”

A high-pitched shriek cut him off, and Cisco grimaced as it rang throughout the room. Everyone turned to the source of the commotion – and Cisco’s heart sank. Barry stood on the stage, fumbling with the microphone stand.

“Is this thing on?”

“Oh God,” said Caitlin.

Cisco launched himself at the stage, fighting through the crowd. As he did, Barry continued to ramble into the mic.

“Hi. My name’s Barry, Barry Allen, and I just wanted to say something real quick. Because I love this city. It’s like… my favourite city. And I love all of you. Especially you.” He pointed unsteadily at someone in the crowd and gave a clumsy wink. “Anyway, I’m gonna tell you a secret while I’m here. You guys can keep a secret, right? Shhh!” He put his fingers on his lips. “See, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…” He leaned in so close that his lips brushed against the mic. “I’m the Fla –”

Just in time, Cisco jerked the mic away from him. “Flaaa–ha! Okay, that’s quite enough of that. I think my buddy here needs some air. Come on, Barry, let’s go.”

Luckily, Barry didn’t resist. He whooshed cheerfully as Cisco shunted him back to their booth and into his seat, then lolled sideways against Caitlin, who – with reflexes well-honed from constantly grabbing flying paperwork – managed to save her testing kit from being swept off the table.

Barry giggled. “I’m fast,” he said.

“Okay,” Cisco said resignedly. He turned to Caitlin. “Got any better ideas?”

She shrugged. “Pray that six-drink Barry is a little more tight-lipped?”

It sounded like a terrible idea. But when had that ever stopped them? With a shake of his head, Cisco withdrew the flask from his pocket.

“Hold on.” Caitlin’s voice had dropped an octave, and silver began to creep down from the roots of her hair. “I wanna see this,” said Frost. “It’s gonna be a total shitshow.”

Unfortunately, Cisco suspected she was right. He splashed more alcohol into Barry’s glass. “Here you go, big guy. Drink up.”

Barry looked down at his drink and frowned. “Can I get ice in this?”

Frost passed her hand over the glass and a chunk of ice dropped to the bottom with a clink.

“Awesome,” Barry said, and downed it.

“Oh God,” said Cisco. “We are so gonna regret this.”

“Okay,” said Kamilla, looking up from the binder. “I think I’m kinda starting to see the problem. But we won’t have that issue tonight. Everyone at this party knows Barry’s the Flash.”

“Listen,” said Cisco. “Four-drink Flash is a cake-walk. The worst is yet to come.” He flipped the page. “Let me introduce you to five-drink Flash.”

5 DRINK BARRY: THERAPIST BARRY

Five-drink Barry got a little too invested in Iris’ Intro to Psychology textbook in college. He’s all heart, zero clinical training.

Leonard Snart lay back on his bunk in Iron Heights, one leg resting lazily over the other, flipping through a nudie magazine. At least, that was how it appeared from outside the cell. Tucked between the pages was a blueprint of the prison, which his sister had smuggled in during her last visit. The bed creaked as he shifted his weight.

One of the guards struck the bars with his baton. Len glanced up.

“Snart. Get your ass out here. We’ve got a phone call for you.”

“Who from?” Lisa didn’t usually call so soon after a visit, and Mick never called at all; the signal on the Waverider was terrible.

“What do you think I am, your PA? Just get your ass out here.”

Interest well and truly piqued, Len tossed his magazine aside, careful to make sure the blueprint stayed safely tucked between his pages as he crossed the cell and waited for the door to be unlocked. Given his status as a high security prisoner, the guard cuffed him before leading him to the payphone booth in the reception area, the walls marked with grease stains and graffiti. With some difficulty, Len picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Leonard Snart speaking. How may I be of service?”

The quality of the call wasn’t great. He could hear the throb of music, people talking and shrieking and laughing in the background.

Then a familiar voice said, “Snart? Is that you?”

Len’s forehead creased. “Barry?”

“Shmart. Snart.” Barry cleared his throat. “Hi. Are you okay?”

“…Peachy.” Len flicked a glance over his shoulder. The two prison guards stood watching him with folded arms and distinctly unimpressed expressions. “Can I ask if this is a business or a personal call? Because this isn’t exactly a secure line.”

“I just –” A loud, deep burp echoed down the line. “Wanted to check in n’ make sure you’re doin’ okay.”

“What?”

“Because I wanted you to know,” Barry said, his voice thick and indistinct, “that it’s okay not to be okay, you know? You shouldn’t bottle up your emotions. You gotta let ‘em out, you know? After everything you’ve been through with Lewis, I just wanted you to know that if you ever needed to talk…” He choked up, before recovering. “I’ll be here.”

“Barry, are you drunk?” Len said incredulously.

“See, there you go again, changing the subject. Have you ever noticed that you often use de… def… deflection as a way to avoid talking about difficult subjects?”

“I’m hanging up now,” said Len.

“No, no, no, no, wait! Wait!” Barry said urgently. “You need to talk about what bothers you. Don’t just bottle it up. Your emotions are a beautiful thing. Emotions are what make us–”

“Barry?” came another muffled voice on the other end of the line. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Barry said immediately.

“Barry, give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Just give me the god damn –”

The sound of static and scuffles crackled down the line, and Len grimaced, lifting his head as far away from the speaker as he could to keep from being deafened. Over the commotion and the continued music blasting in the background, he could hear Barry shouting.

“You can be anything you want to be! Your past does not define you!”

“Okay,” said Len, and went to put the phone down.

“Wait!” said Barry. “Before you go, do you have a number for King Shark? Because I wanted to check in and make sure he’s doing okay. I know he looks scary, but underneath that slimy exterior he has the heart of a –”

Len rolled his eyes and hung up.

Sober Barry was a seasoned fighter, with speed, agility and hard-won experience on his side. Fortunately for Cisco, however, Drunk Barry’s combat skills comprised of slapping and some half-hearted attempts to bite, which meant that he was able to wrestle the phone away from him fairly easily. As he hung up, he glanced at the caller ID and blanched.

“Seriously? You’re making phone calls to Iron Heights? Are you gonna tell all the bad guys your secret identity too?” He held Barry’s phone up. “You know what? I’m keeping this; you clearly can’t be trusted.”

“My phone!” Barry said, and made a pathetic grab for it.

“Nope. Not happening, pal.” Cisco tucked it into his back pocket.

Barry pouted.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m going to give it back later, I promise. I just need you to sober up first.”

“Okay,” Barry said sorrowfully. His bottom lip started to tremble.

“Oh, no,” Cisco said. “Not the lip – oh God, Barr, you’re breaking my heart here.”

“What’s happening?” asked Frost, returning to the table with two more beers, frost creeping down the side of the bottles. She gave a disinterested look at Barry, who was staring at the table with tears brimming in his eyes. He sniffed hard.

“Uh-oh,” said Cisco. “Six-drink Barry must be…”

SIX-DRINK BARRY: SAD BARRY

Shortly after his fifth drink, Barry loses his well-honed ability to repress and crumbles under the weight of well over a decade of trauma. In times of crisis, he can be medicated with chicken wings or, in a pinch, large servings of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

Cisco turned to Frost for help, but she inched away, rapidly shaking her head. Great, thought Cisco. Super helpful. He rubbed Barry’s back tentatively.

“Hey, Barry. You doing okay there, bud?”

Barry looked up. “I just got off the phone with Snart. He’s having a really hard time, you know? I mean, some people just can’t catch a break. He had a crappy abusive drunk for a father; he practically raised his sister. In and out of juvie, never graduated high school – and in spite of all of that, he comes up with these brilliant heists – like seriously impressive – and then the Flash comes in and totally ruins every single one of them. I mean, come on. The guy’s gotta make a living somehow, am I right?”

“Uh,” said Cisco.

“I always said to him, you can do better.” He poked Cisco clumsily in the chest to emphasize each word. “You have what it takes to be a hero. So the guy joins the Legends, becomes a hero, and then he freaking dies in an explosion. Kaboom! And then he comes back, returns to Central City to start over, robs one lousy bank and gets thrown straight back in prison. How is that fair?”

“Jail time seems like a fairly reasonable consequence for grand larceny,” said Frost.

“It’s just a bad habit,” Barry said forlornly. “He deserves help and compassion, not a prison cell. Do you know what it’s like in Iron Heights? The food is terrible. My Dad spend a decade in there and he always said…”

He trailed off. For a moment Cisco thought he’d gone into a trance, as he stared down at the table, forehead slightly creased. Then he saw the haunted look in Barry’s eyes. The face of a man who had seen terrible things.

They needed a distraction. Luckily, Cisco had just the thing. “You know what?” he said. “Maybe the food in prison isn’t great, but you know what’s awesome? The food you can get delivered right here. Nice, starchy, alcohol-absorbing food. Let’s look at a take-out menu and see what we’ve got.” He pulled up JustEat on his phone. “We could get you a pizza… maybe some fries… a couple of burgers; that sounds–”

“Chicken wings,” Barry said distantly.

They both turned to look at him.

“Chicken wings?” said Frost sceptically.

“Chicken wings,” Barry insisted.

“Okay!” said Cisco. “We’ll get chicken wings.” He added one portion to the basket. Then took another look at Barry’s face and hit the plus button several times. “Lots… and lots… of chicken wings.” He locked the phone. “Okay, food should be with us in a couple of minutes. So what now?”

“More drinks!” Barry said.

“No! No more –”

It was too late; there was a crackle of lightning and then the flask slammed back down onto the tabletop.

Cisco closed his eyes in defeat.

8 Drink Barry is a Michelin-star chef

Sober Barry’s cooking is average at best, but 8 drink Barry reveals a deep inner passion for the culinary arts.

It was a little past two am when a breach opened at the top of the stairwell, pulsing and flickering with pale blue light. Frost and Cisco staggered out of it, each holding one of Barry’s arms to keep him from escaping.

“Okay, almost there,” said Cisco. “You’re doing a great job. Can you let us in?”

Barry patted himself clumsily down until he found his keys and tried to open the first lock. He kept missing the keyhole. After his third attempt, Barry sighed and collapsed forwards, head resting against the wood panelling. Then he started vibrating.

Cisco suddenly realised what he was trying to do. “No, no wait, don’t–”

There was a buzzing sensation, a sickening lurch, and then all three of them fell straight through the front door.

Frost gave a full-body shudder and released her hold on Barry’s shirt to rub her arms.

“Never do that again! It makes my skin crawl.”

“I feel like we should have a rule about phasing under the influence,” Cisco muttered.

Together, they managed to get Barry onto the couch, where he lay blinking up at them, floppy as a rag doll, barbecue sauce smeared down his chin. More of the wings had ended up on his face than in his mouth, but Cisco hoped the restorative properties would kick in soon.

“Hey, Sad Flash. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m hungry,” Barry said. He clawed his way to a standing position. “Gonna make food.” Yellow light blazed as he sprinted into the kitchen.

Frost turned to Cisco. “He’s still hungry? He had like, eight servings of chicken wings!”

“Just go with it,” Cisco muttered, and then the alarming sounds of crashes and bangs came from the kitchen. “Barry? Do you need some help in there?”

Lightning crackled erratically as Barry sped around the room. Within seconds, every available surface was strewn with culinary equipment: a chopping board; a stained knife; various ingredients. A knife flashed as he rapidly diced an onion and swept it into the pan too fast for the eye to follow, and then the burner came on with a click and a whoosh. Oil sizzled as Barry dropped a steak into the pan. He grabbed a wine bottle off the side, yanked the cork out with his teeth and spat it across the room; it missed Frost by inches, and she recoiled in disgust. Barry sniffed the wine, and after a moment of consideration, he sloshed a generous amount into the pan. Flames leapt skyward, and Barry expertly tamped them down.

“Uh… what are you doing?” said Cisco.

Barry flipped the steak with a flick of his wrist. “Cooking.”

“Yeah, I can see that, but I thought you were going to make pasta, or fries, you know – normal drunk people food, not –” Cisco inhaled. “What even is that?”

“Braised steak in a red wine sauce, with asparagus on the side,” Barry said.

“…Right,” said Cisco. “Sorry I asked.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Kamilla.

“It isn’t,” said Cisco. “It’s goddamn awesome. The problem with 8-Drink Barry is that hot on his heels is –”

9 DRINK BARRY – SLEEPY BARRY.

On the night the particle accelerator exploded, Barry went into a coma and remained unconscious for nine months. During that time, his score on the Glasgow Coma Scale was a 5. Rumour has it that nine-drink Barry scored even lower than that.

“This is the worst night out I’ve ever been on in my life, and I share a body with Caitlin. Her idea of fun is wearing hideous pyjamas and watching documentaries on Hulu,” Frost hissed.

They stood on the doorstep laden with plastic bags while Cisco searched through the assortment of keys Barry had given him, trying to find the one for the first lock. “Look,” he said, inserting one into the lock with a crunch, “I know it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing, but hopefully he’ll have got the rest of it out of his system while we were out breaching to every grocery store in the city.”

“Right, because Gordon Ramsay in there had to have…” Frost slid the bottle of wine out of the grocery bag. “Whatever the hell this is. Chateau Belair Mona–whatever. As if a hundred-and-fifty-dollar bottle is going to taste any different than the fifteen-dollar fifty bottle from the liquor store.” She rolled her eyes. “What the hell is he even going to do with it?”

“To be honest, as long as he doesn’t drink it I could care less what he does with it. Just keep him distracted for long enough to get some more food inside of him and make sure any breakable objects are out of reach before he gets down to the two-drink level.” He shook the keys in frustration. “Jesus, how many keys do they have?”

“I still don’t see why we had to–” Frost paused and narrowed her eyes. She sniffed sharply. “Is something burning?”

They looked down. Thick grey smoke billowed out from underneath the kitchen door.

Seconds later, the door burst off its hinges in a cloud of icy fog.

Inside the loft was total chaos. Barry slumped at the kitchen table, dead to the world, his hand still loosely clasped around the flask of speedster booze. A small puddle of drool on the table shone in the firelight. Behind him, his frying pan lay abandoned on the range, smoking violently while flames leapt towards the ceiling.

The piercing shriek of the smoke alarm tore through the room. Frost blasted the frying pan with a thick stream of ice and cold energy crackled from her palms, barely making a difference in the temperature of the room. Cisco grabbed a damp tea towel off the side and beat at the flames, trying frantically to extinguish the blaze. Behind them, Barry didn’t so much as twitch, his snores drowned out by the alarm.

“Okay, I think I get the gist,” said Kamilla, looking up from the folder. “No-booze Barry is the way to go.” She hesitated. “But just out of morbid curiosity, what about nine-drink Barry?”

“Unchartered territory,” Cisco said darkly. “We figured eight drinks was enough.” He closed the folder conclusively. “So yeah, it sucks that Barry can’t drink with us, but with great power comes great responsibility. And sometimes responsibility means making sure your friend doesn’t accidentally break the sound barrier by doing the worm at Mach 2.”

Cisco went to slide the folder back onto the shelf. As he did so, his gaze caught a framed photo on the countertop. He paused and picked it up, smiling sadly. It was a picture of himself, Caitlin, Barry and Thawne – or Wells, as they’d believed back then – from the early days. They all looked so young, grinning at the camera, hair tousled where Barry had sped out from behind the phone before the shutter clicked. His chest ached.

Kamilla put a hand on his arm. “You’re going to miss them, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He put the photo down. “But we gotta keep moving forward. Speaking of which, it is beyond uncool to be late to your own party, so we’d better get shaking.” He held out his arm. “Ready?”

“You go,” said Kamilla. “I just have a few last-minute things to take care of. I’ll catch up.”

“Okay.” Cisco kissed her on the cheek and slipped out of the room.

Kamilla glanced over her shoulder, bit her lower lip. Then her gaze slid over to the fridge.

Tiptoeing across the room, she approached the container and input the code again. Her hair tossed as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was watching. Then she slid out a single blood red vial and tucked it into her purse.

Just in case.

#DCTVGenPrideMonth #the flash fanfiction #my fics

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moonlightsolo · 4 years ago

Text

bête noire

summary: Your plan to sneak aboard Kylo’s ship is falling perfectly into place. Hopefully, he won’t discover you through the Force and refuse to let you join him because he is worried about your safety. You should have listened to him.

pairing: kylo ren x female reader

warnings: graphic depictions of blood, injuries, wounds and death !!!!

wc: 4.5k

note: good luck reading this one. sorry in advance.

- chapter list -

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Kylo never came back after you fought. Perhaps out of spite to retaliate against your stubborn behavior.

You fell asleep in your own bed by yourself after showering and putting the children to sleep. You’ve programmed the droid to take care of them for the time you’ll be gone on the mission, unless you get caught by him before then.

There’s soft pressure being applied to your shoulder as the person above you shakes you. You gently open your eyes, surprised to see Kylo standing above you. He’s dressed up in his armor, cape and gloves.

Then your body registers the cold leather pressed against your forearm. “I’m leaving.” He pauses as he attempts to read your thoughts.

You furrow your eyebrows and push him out of your head. “None of that. I’m not in the mood.” You grumble and turn your back towards him.

You can hear him huff behind you, his strong hands push you onto your back again to lean down and kiss you. “I’ll be back. I... love you.” He stutters over those three words which makes you want to punch him. Hard. In the face.

“Love you. Be careful.” You say coldly as you move from his grip to turn away from him again.

He lets out an exasperated sigh then he walks out of the room. You quickly push the covers back once you know he’s left the quarters, pulling out your clothing and getting dressed as quickly as possibly.

Without even noticing you did so, you summoned your hairbrush to you. When you look up from tying your shoes it’s floating in front of your face. “Hm!” You smile happily as you brush your hair back into a low bun.

You conceal your saber against your waistband, pulling the hood to the cowl over your head. You chug a glass of water from the sink then walk into the children’s room to kiss them both goodbye, making sure to fill their dreams with happiness and peace. You’ll see them soon.

Before you leave, you take a deep breath to center the Force and make sure he can’t hear your thoughts or sense that you’re near. You kept telling yourself that you can do it and you’re strong.

As you open the doors to the quarters, there’s stormtroopers and officers roaming the hallways.

Thankfully, they don’t pay much attention to you so you start your journey down to the hangar. You make sure your hood is just far enough past your face so nobody will recognize you unless you’re standing in direct light.

The gloves on your hands feel tight on your wrists but you know it will aid in helping nobody recognize you. Anybody could be under this hood.

As you come up on the hangar, you notice there’s two stormtroopers checking everybody to make sure they’re allowed in. You look around as you’re in the line, trying to think of something to tell them.

Your nerves spike when you get closer, only a few people away now. “You can do this...” You take a deep breath and let it go. It’s your turn.

“Next. Please take off your hood.”

“You will let me pass through these doors without any problems.” You speak to them, hopefully to trick them into letting you though. There’s an uncomfortable silence hanging in the room as they look at each other then back at you.

“I will let you through these doors without any problems.” They both say in unison then they open the door for you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and pass through into a hallway that leads to the hangar.

When you walk into the giant room, you’re stunned as always when you see how huge it is. Especially with all the ships lined up. You see the huge planet below through the opening, that must be where you’re going.

You instantly notice Kylo’s command shuttle and a red haired man standing outside of the ship. He’s directing troops with his loud obnoxious voice. Then you see Kylo walking up the entrance ramp, his tall stature would definitely intimidate you but instead it pisses you off.

You casually walk around the hangar, making sure to help people load other ships while keeping your eye on Kylo.

As the hangar slowly gets less crowded, it must mean everyone is boarding their ships. You quickly sneak around in the dark areas of the hangar, waiting for the last moment you can make a break for it to run onto the ship.

You watch the ramp to the ship begin to raise to settle in the belly of it. You look both ways to make sure the coast is clear before you take off running, you slide on your stomach into the small crack left before it closes behind you.

If you were just a millisecond late, you would’ve gotten squished. You realize your hood has fallen back so you quickly replace it back on your head.

You quietly crawl on the floor, up to the floor where everybody is. Kylo is standing at the pilots chairs while Hux is sitting in his seat.

“Psst.” You whisper out, you see Hux’s head pick up and look around with squinted eyes.

“Psst. Over here.” You whisper at him, making sure to glance at a Kylo.

Finally the man takes notice of you, his eyes go wide then he squints angrily. He points his finger at you, ready to scold you but you put your finger to your mouth.

You glance at Kylo once more to make sure he is still occupied before crawling to Hux’s seat.

“What are you doing here?!” He whisper yells at you, “If he finds out you’re here, he will be furious.”

You sigh and nod in agreement, “I know, I just need help to hide me. Please.” You beg him and stick out your bottom lip.

Hux looks at Kylo then sighs, “Yes come here.” He unbuckles himself and stands to walk over to a square vent in the wall. He looks back then pulls it up to reveal a small area. You can definitely sit in there, and it’s going to be a little cramped.

“It’s small but it will do.” You nod and crawl in there. “Stay quiet.” Hux hushes you as he closes the vent. You can see through the lines, seeing Kylo is still standing away from you both.

“I will. Go back to your seat.” You rush him.

“I still can’t believe you’ve done this. You’re insane, you know that?” Hux is still yelling at you while whispering.

“What are you doing?” Kylo’s voice booms behind Hux, making the smaller man jump and turn around towards him.

“Oh.. Oh nothing! Just making sure the vent is secure, sir.” He stumbles over his words.

“Who were you talking to?” He asks as he takes a step closer.

You put your hand over your mouth and look up to quiet your breathing.

“Nobody, sir. Just myself. There’s nobody else here... Haha.. Ha..” He awkwardly laughs at the end while Ren stares at him in silence.

“Sit down, General Hux. We’re going to take off soon.” Then he turns on his heel to sit in his own seat.

“Well that was close.” You think in your head.

The engines are much louder in this vent, you put your hands over your ears as you take a deep breath when it rises off of the ground. You close your eyes, grounding yourself into the roots of the Force.

You accept the energy radiating off of Kylo and the energy radiating from the ship.

This power needs to be released soon. It’s building up pressure in your body almost like it’s going to explode soon. You’re a ticking time bomb.

The ship trembles as it descends into the planets atmosphere. You can hear that they’re talking in the cockpit but you can’t make out the words being said.

When the ship lands, Kylo stands from his place as the deafening engines slow down and eventually turn off.

Hux follows Kylo, but he keeps his eyes on you in the vent. You can see Hux motioning you to stay put so you do.

“I’ll be right out with you, sir.” Hux says to him and makes himself look busy with something else as the Supreme Leader walks off.

Hux hurries over to you, pulling the vent up so you can crawl out. You take a deep breath as it was quiet stuffy in your little compartment. “Come on. We’ve got to get you out of here.” Hux ushers you to hurry.

“She’s here?” Kylo’s voice booms. You freeze on the floor, not daring to look up at him.

“Everyone, leave.” He orders, his dark eyes pierce through you.

The general whispers an apology to you before he scurries off of the ship with the pilots. You slowly stand to your feet, pushing the hood back as you stare back at him with the same fury in your eyes.

“You disobeyed my orders?” He questions you, he is tense.

“Your orders mean nothing to me. I am my own person, you can’t control me!” You shake your head as your voice raises.

His jaw twitches in anger, his fists clench by his side. “General Hux.” He calls for the ginger haired man.

Hux scurries back into the ship, obviously he was eavesdropping on the conversation. “Yes, sir?” Hux rolls his eyes behind Kylo.

“Get two troops to guard her. Make sure she doesn’t leave this ship.” He turns on his heel to leave.

His words make your heart drop, your eyes widen as you go to follow Kylo. It seems like everything is in slow motion.

Hux motions for the guards at the end of the ramp to stop you. Your arm reaches out to try to grab ahold of Ren’s cape, but your fingers barely graze the fabric as the troops grab ahold of your arms.

“No!” You wail as you’re lifted off of the ground to be brought back into the ship. You kick your legs in protest, trying to thrash your body from their grip. “You asshole!” Your voice cracks when you scream at Kylo.

The troops handcuff you to the chair, you push them back with the Force but it only makes them stumble slightly. Why aren’t you strong enough?

Then something drops in your stomach, settling like a dark hole of doom. You’re not sure if it’s from being locked up by Kylo or if something bad is going to happen.

“I need to get out of these.” You pull at your wrists and grunt.

“Stop it, girl. Or we’ll confine you even more.” One of them says which makes the other guard chuckle.

You growl and lunge at them but your arms hold you back. You snarl at them, showing your teeth like a rabid animal.

They put their hands up to mockingly surrender to you, “Ooo. I’m so scared.” They laugh in unison.

“You don’t realize what’s going to happen. Something bad. I need to be out there to warn him!” You cry out desperately.

They look at each other then back at you and laugh once again. “Dude, she’s totally lost her mind.” One of them says, “Oh for sure.” They start to laugh again.

Your nostrils flare as you breathe heavily, your eyes close as you focus your emotions with the Force.

The darkness floods your veins and you try to hold onto to the light. Your wrists pull apart and the handcuffs break like glass. The chain falls to the ground in pieces.

The troopers laughs cut short when they realize what you’ve done, their hands go to grab their blasters but you extend your arms out to push them back with the Force.

The blast causes them to collide with the wall and fall to the floor groaning. You look at your hands then you stand up quickly. “I’m sorry. I had no choice.” You quickly run off of the ship, your feet meeting sand and the blistering heat. You begin to sprint, the sand kicks up behind you.

In the distance you see the battalion of troops and officers walking to the nearby shantytown.

You can feel your muscles wanting to give out on you, running on sand is much harder than you thought. You puff out hot breath as you try to get close to them but they’ve made so much progress.

As you get closer, you notice the troopers searching the area aggressively. They’re ripping off people’s hoods and pushing them into the town center by gunpoint. You slow down to weave and bob through the people.

Frantically, your eyes search for Kylo. A gloved hand pulls on your shoulder to turn you around. You instinctively go to punch them but they grab your fist with their palm. You realize it’s Kylo and drop your arm back to your side.

“What are you doing?!” His groans loudly in annoyance. “I couldn’t let you do this alone!” You scream over the chaos.

Citizens of the town are screaming and crying in fear but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“I am more than capable of handling myself. There’s no reason for you to be here.” He goes to summon the troops guarding him to take you away again.

You think fast and grab ahold of his armor to pull him down to your level. You press your lips against his roughly, then you pull away.

“I wouldn’t put myself in danger like this on purpose. I can feel it in my gut. Something bad-“ The sound of blaster shots takes your attention away from the conversation.

The bullets are being shot from over the hill, you notice a Resistance shuttle sitting behind rubble on the outskirts of town.

“I told you.” Your hand grips the hilt of your saber to pull it off of your belt and sprint towards the fight along with the troops.

You dodge bullets, watching the white armored men next to you disappear as they fall to the ground. You roll your body behind a piece of junk metal to shield yourself.

Bullets hit the surface and ricochet which makes you flinch each time.

Your eyes catch Kylo deflecting bullets with his saber as he walks towards you.

Damn, he makes it looks so easy.

Some of the bullets hit the Resistance soldiers back as the First Order troops stand their ground against them as well.

You swiftly ignite your saber as you stand next to Kylo. “You need to get back on the ship now!” He screams at you angrily.

You groan and run off of to the side to take cover with a stormtrooper. You jump over the metallic cart to stun a Resistance fighter and push the saber through their chest.

Another soldier attempts to fight you but you spin your body to dodge his shots then you jump to straddle the soldier as you push him to the ground.

You stab him with the saber in the chest then roll off of his body to fight the other soldiers coming at you.

Something is pulling you toward the light, your eyes glance at your surroundings then you see him. It’s Poe. He’s sitting hidden on a hill with a sniper.

His gun is aimed right at you, ready to take a shot. You can tell he’s shaking, nervous and upset by your presence. You shake your head no at him with pure sadness written across your features. His hands fall from his gun when he realizes what’s going to happen. He starts to sprint towards you.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t do it!” Poe screams at you or maybe it was at his own troops. He ducks to dodge bullets shot by the stormtroopers.

Resistance soldiers surround you when as you were distracted, the saber in your hands takes control. Your fight or flight is activated as you quickly pummel through them like their bodies mean nothing to you. Some other soldiers who’ve noticed your fighting begin shooting at you which causes you to deflect their bullets back at them.

Something rings in your ears which makes your head snap back to see Poe had gotten hit in the shoulder by one of the stray bullets.

For a moment, you’re standing there looking at the bodies around you. Fear for yourself wracks your body. The orange light from your saber disappears back into the hilt as you watch his troops carry him away from the battle.

A sharp pain pierces through your abdomen, you yelp then turn your attention to the person who shot at you.

Fury fires up in through your veins, your chest constricts and you can feel your head throbbing. Your saber ignites by your side again as your other hand reaches out to freeze them in place with the Force.

The soldiers around the man start to run towards you to attack. An unseen wave blows from your body like a bomb, blowing them back then sucking their limp bodies back in before they explode backward and fall to the ground.

You twirl your saber in your hands then slice into them causing the upper half of their body to hit the ground first before their legs fall after.

With a growl you turn around, teeth seething as you look around. No one dares to come toward you.

That’s when you realize the Resistance is falling back. Your eyes dart across the sandy field, watching them shoot back as they retreat. You catch Rey’s eyes for a moment, by the look on her face she fears you.

Then your eyes glide over to Kylo who’s speed walking over to you, his eyes are wide as his pace quickens to a run.

Tie fighters chase the Resistance out of the planets atmosphere until they hit hyper speed.

When Kylo reaches you, his hands go to cradle your abdomen. “We need to get you out of here. Now.” He sounds afraid, but of what?

“Why? What happened?” You look down at his hand and realize his leather glove is evidently saturated in blood and the dark liquid is pooling onto the ground beneath your feet.

Fear strikes your features as you look up at Kylo, “Oh no.”

You let out a sob as your knees buckle. Suddenly, the pain you didn’t feel before is excruciating. You can feel the pulse of the gushing wound and your breathing becomes irregular. Kylo catches your body as you fall and turns swiftly causing the sand beneath him puff upward.

“Don’t die. You can’t die on me. No, please.” The bouncing of your body from him sprinting makes you want to close your eyes. You whimper helplessly as you feel yourself becoming more light-headed by the minute. The clothing against your skin feels wet as it clings to your skin. It feels as if a few seconds has went by, but it was much longer than that.

The sound of metal underneath his feet slightly wakes you up from the darkness behind your eyelids.

Kylo carefully lays you down in a seat as the pilots get ready to take off to go back to the Star Destroyer in orbit.

Hux walks aboard to find a very distraught Supreme Leader, the look in his eyes when he notices your limp pale body almost frightens you.

After everything you’ve been through and cheating death multiple times. Maybe this is your time. You’re going to miss your children but they’ll be okay. You know Kylo will do anything to keep them happy and safe.

“Help me! I need a med kit. Please.” Kylo begs him as Hux rushes to find one.

Ren rips your clothes in half with his hands, his eyes widen at your red stained torso, unable to see the regular color of your skin. He notices the wound continuously pumping blood onto your skin like a weak fountain. Hux pushes rolled up gauze into Kylo’s bloody hands and he begins to stuff it into the gaping hole in your abdomen.

As your vision starts to blur and your breathing starts to rattle roughly, your hand reaches out to touch Kylo’s features one last time. Some of your blood smears on his cheek, “I... love you... I’m so... so sorry... I should... have listened...” Your already hooded eyes drain of the rest of the life you had in you and your arm falls down limp to your side. The last tear escapes from your eye and tracks a line through the dirt and blood on your skin.

“No, no. Stay awake. Please work. Universe, help me. This has to work.” He rips his gloves off and presses his hand against your wound. His eyes attempt to search your glossy ones for any sign of life.

He uses all of his energy to attempt to heal you with the Force. He hasn’t used this method in so long. Not since his Jedi training.

Hux stands to the side in terror, watching you become lifeless as Kylo attempts to heal you with the Force.

He takes a deep breath, the only thing he can smell is the metallic scent of your blood. He draws all his power and imagines it healing your wound from the inside out. Just like Uncle Luke taught him.

“Please...” His voice cracks desperately.

His eyes open slightly, the reality crashes onto him all at once. Your skin isn’t tinted pink like it usually is and full of life. His hand comes up to touch your sunken face, “I love you... Please...” Tears start to fall from his eyes, dripping onto your abdomen.

His head drops to rest on your shoulder, trying to hide his emotions from his colleagues.

He can’t lose you. He can’t do this without you.

Hux walks over to Ren, putting a hand on his back to attempt to console him but the man pulls away from his touch.

Kylo glances up at your lifeless face once again, wondering why you would put yourself in danger like this again and why he couldn’t keep you from doing this to yourself.

In the last hour, you embraced the dark side. Then you let the light flood back in during your last seconds.

Of course, this isn’t the end. You will not let your children to grow up without a mother. You can’t let Kylo live his life wondering what he could’ve done to save your life.

“Just fly. Take us back.” He orders sternly as he stands to his feet to fasten himself in the seat next to your body. His face is emotionless although the redness under his eyes shows he’s visibly broken. It matches the smear of your blood on his cheek.

Kylo can’t hear your heartbeat anymore and your soft breathing he’s grown so fond of. He can’t stand to look at you in this condition, it hurts him so deeply. His true love, his first reason...

The ship rises into the atmosphere and makes its way back to the Star Destroyer.

tags: @officiallpeterparker @funnysadshit @ymariejp @attorneyl @fangirl570 @trinityrud20 @kylos-sassy-cousin @delicatelyherdreams @fizzywoohoo @savvy7392 @angelias134 @that-girl-named-alex @cas-backwards-tie @glimmering-darling-dolly @glitterypinkkitty @blxkstar @his-snow-white-queen @elsasshole @smiithys @nanocoool @deathbyarabbit @alex-skr @theholycakehole @averillian @crazynocturnalkiki @arcanebabe @tinydancer40 @superduckypower @thomasscresswell @butterfly-writes @thatintrovertedbisexual @fangirlanotherjust @somekindofroger @nicci442 @little-girl-who-dream-too-much @wildest-dream- @silverlambcaptain @cliffordmess @xkylorxn @lowkeyofsassguard @nickangel13 @carol-twinklefists-danvers @oopsiedoopsie23 @fandomshit6000 @baba-eina @cosmichellfire @ravngers @lipstickstateofmind @dorisfantasyworld @starrfruit

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years ago

Text

The Decay of Secrets

Summary: Faragonda’s quest of uncovering secrets leads her to depths she never imagined she could be forced to face over a past that’s dead and buried. Pirate AU.

CW: body horror, gore, mentions of death and murder, graphic depictions of violence, vomiting

Written for @writersmonth Day 5 - word: secret/setting: pirate AU

If you’re wondering what’s going on here, my skin is shedding after the worst sunburn in my entire life so you get this. If there’s anything that’s incorrect, just know that I had to limit the research I did for this because I was trying to stay sane (aka avoid the really graphic stuff).

Soundtrack: Everybody’s Scared by Parah Dice, Holy Molly

The sword trembled in her hand as the amethyst and obsidian crystals dug deep into the soles of her boots. Some of them pierced right through to draw blood that mixed with the trail her target had left behind, walking barefoot like it was no feat crossing the carpet of jagged edges. It was hard to see in the illumination of the candles that grew out of the stone niches like stalagmites.

The dim light curled around a kneeling figure at the end of the cave near a small lake. The shadows clung to the purple hair, dragging across the floor, like an aura, like they were tangled in the woman’s soul. She had yet to see Faragonda, her head bowed, spine bent as if it were broken. There was barely a trace of the fierce pirate captain–and merciless murderer–that she was. Almost enough to fool Faragonda with the quiet stoicism of the place and make her turn on her heel to leave.

“What do you want?” The tension in Griffin's body peaked, the strain in her muscles visible in their murky surroundings. Her hands dug in the ground like she didn’t spend most of her life at sea, like she needed to anchor herself in her own body.

“You can’t escape justice, Griffin.” Her crew was too fast in their raids to be caught but Griffin was alone now. Faragonda couldn't let her get away with all the bodies she’d left behind. Not after the way Griffin had broken Daphne’s body and forced Marion and Oritel to use a forbidden spell to separate her spirit from it just to keep their daughter alive.

“I’m actually looking for justice,” Griffin's voice pulled her in like a siren’s song. There was something so fatal in it that called to her to end this now and find rest for both of them. “You’ve come just on time to help.”

Faragonda shuffled over the cave’s dangerous floor. Griffin may not have turned to acknowledge her as a threat but she was fast like lightning. And if she failed to strike her gravely, the fall on the sharp crystals would finish the job. The terrain advantage was Griffin's but she didn’t take the opportunity.

It was the headstone that hit Faragonda in the chest as it sat in the middle of the cave with the same motionlessness Griffin had adopted. She was standing on a small grave. The source of her crimes. Each letter burned in Faragonda’s mind like the brand of her failure to stop Griffin. How was she supposed to look at Marion and Oritel and tell them she had put Griffin's pain over theirs? How was she to explain the poison in her own veins with no dead tissue in her chest?

Faragonda sheathed her sword, the sound echoing around them like a herald of doom. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Griffin chuckled but the tears were audible in her voice. “You have too much heart for your own good. You know that, don’t you?”

“I believe it’s the right thing to do,” Faragonda made it to the dried up soil beyond the crystals. If Griffin moved, she could find her own grave in the small cave enforcing proximity on them.

“So you understand I can’t let go?” Griffin looked at her with calm eyes. The calm before the storm in the shining suns her irises were.

“You’ll go down eventually.” Marion–and the rest of the Company of Light–wouldn't settle for Griffin's disregard for the law or any human decency. They would put her in the ground if they couldn't put her on trial. Faragonda was becoming the perpetrator of Griffin's death by refusing to bring her in while it was still an option. But Griffin would much rather lie in the grave herself than be unable to come back to it for the rest of her life.

“Sooner than you think.”

The shot echoed in the cave, the bullet ricocheting off the walls after the clean in-and-out through her shoulder. Her sword was drawn in the blink of an eye in Griffin's hand and aimed at Griffin's own chest. The clamor in Faragonda’s ears blocked out any hope of summoning her magic to stop this madness or heal herself.

“Sorry about that but you’ll live. I had to make sure you wouldn’t interfere as I knew you’d try.” Griffin looked back to the tiny grave. “Such a pure heart you were given the choice to have.”

Faragonda’s blood froze at the smile curling Griffin's lips. There was no soul in it, no humanity left. Just cold bitterness.

Pain exploded in her knees from their collision with the rough ground, the scent of blood overpowering the salt carrying from the lake. She could taste the bits of Griffin's heart on her lips, on her skin, sticking to her body except for where her life was still oozing out of her wailing wound but she pushed herself to her feet, her lungs burning and her vision swimming.

Maybe it was her scream that came first but there was just a burst of light–fire–in her eyes. Griffin cried out before metal clunked against the cave floor. The sword had fallen from her hand, blasted out by a huge explosion that left her clutching the wounded limb to her chest. Smoke was rising from where her hair had been singed.

“You really are the cruelest monster of all,” a male voice and its echo boomed around them making Griffin crouch, her forehead pressed against the ground. “You took yourself from me once already and now you’re trying to avoid my revenge by taking your own life?” His steps crushed Faragonda’s heart over and over again as he hovered over the razor-sharp crystals, nothing slowing him down on his quest for Griffin's head. “That’s low even for you.”

Faragonda gritted her teeth to hold her magic between them. She had to find a quiet moment on a school break or a wild sleepover to revive her positive emotions and her powers.

Her body protested as she stumbled, forcing it in the way of the threat with barely sparks of magic at her fingertips and a torturously slow improvement in her shoulder. Her shot arm was still hanging limply at her side and the other was free to press against the wound in the absence of a weapon to use in defense. “Stay back, Valtor.”

“You’re bleeding brains from that betrayal in your shoulder, Faragonda.” He raised his hand, the cold of the cave retreating from his magical flames. “Move if you’d like to keep the rest of yourself at least.”

Faragonda stared him down before stepping away to direct his gaze to the headstone.

The flames flickered out, his hand shaking as the vile grin crumbled from his face. “What is this?” he roared, his own body trembling harder than the walls that barely resisted a cave-in. “What lie have you strung together now, Griffin?”

Griffin was shaking, too, all the cold in the tense atmosphere piling up on her back to wrack her body with shivers. Her stifled sobs were louder than a waterfall and pulled Valtor’s trigger.

Faragonda halted his murderous march. “Does she look like someone who’d create such a deception?”

Valtor spun around, the grimace on his face shoving her back down on her knees in a heap of pain. His face was in hers, the heat from his skin burning her breath out of her lungs. The scorching air around him cauterized her wound to leave her grunting behind her bitten tongue. He could cremate her on the spot but he wasn’t after her. “You’re telling me,” he materialized next to Griffin and grabbed a fistful of her hair shoving her face into the stone, into the words “beloved daughter” and the date of birth and death, “this is the truth?” he yelled under the sound of Griffin's nose smashing into the cold headstone. His hand wrapped around her throat when he pulled her to her feet by the hair. “You did this! That’s why you used the spell for aging up. You wanted to get rid of my daughter as soon as possible instead of carry her in your womb.”

Faragonda gaped at them. There was a lot more powerful magic at play than what she’d thought Griffin's hidden treasure would turn out to be. They could do unspeakable things to the world after what they’d done to each other. She had to press a hand in her mouth to subdue the bile rising at her own weakness.

Griffin blinked back tears, blood running from her bruising nose and into her mouth when she spoke. “I was afraid your mothers would find her.”

Faragonda’s heart clenched inside her chest as if trying to curl up in the fetal position. Tears fell from her eyes and soaked into the cracked ground for the unfortunate baby that had been doomed from the very start. It was only recently that Griffin had surpassed the Ancestrals when it came to plundering and they still ruled the seas with terror.

“I wanted to hide her from them. But instead, they killed my mother and the baby died a couple hours after her birth,” she choked, on her own tongue.

Valtor let go of her and she slumped on the floor, a hiss of pain escaping her. “You should have told me! How could you not tell me, you fucking bitch?” His leg twitched as if he was straining against kicking her.

Griffin held his gaze despite the unequal ground they were standing on. “Is this genuine outrage or is it just your possessiveness?” she bared her teeth. “Was she yours to kill, too? Like I am?” Her eyes were full of venom, wafting through the air all the way to where Faragonda was sinking further into madness she hadn’t expected.

“She’s dead now, Griffin!” Valtor yelled, flinching the same as Griffin. “We all are.”

“I didn’t know...” Griffin coughed, snot blocking her nose. “I couldn't be sure how much I could trust you against them.”

Valtor collapsed next to her. “You should have told me,” he punched the ground and his magic fissured it. The cave shook again but refused to fall on them and bury the horror they were threatening the world with.

“Please,” Griffin whimpered, fingers digging in the soil again. Her nails cracked to let streams of blood color her fingertips and the black ground red before her hands sank deep in with help from her magic.

The sword Valtor pulled out of the sheath on his hip was what snapped them out of their joined trance. “How would you forgive that, Griffin?” His eyes were cast downward like the weapon in his hand. If Griffin couldn't get his attention, Faragonda didn’t stand a chance. But she had to try despite barely being able to crawl with all the dread stuffed down her throat and in her veins.

Griffin was faster. “Please... kill me.”

Valtor’s sword was slipping from his fingers, his eyes wide like suns as he looked at Griffin to wrap his mind around her. It was her who took his hand and pointed the blade at her chest. Faragonda didn’t even have enough strength to crash into them and break them apart before life could be lost.

“Kill me. I was hoping Faragonda would,” she looked at her, her clear eyes piercing through Faragonda like the shards of a broken message bottle. There was no clouded judgment in the gold, only a self-centered agenda. “But now that you’re here, I won’t have to do it myself, after all.” Griffin pressed the tip of the sword against her chest. “Right here in my heart. Slice it open,” she let go of Valtor’s hand that was steady, whether out of concern or the lack of it. “Trust me.”

A shadow swallowed Valtor’s face. “I should kill you just for asking that of me after everything.”

Faragonda geared up to pounce.

“Then do-”

He shoved the blade through Griffin's chest forcing a gasp out of both women.

Griffin keeled over, her weight falling on her arms with her palms still buried in the ground. “Possessive beast,” she gurgled, red painting the words as blood dripped from her mouth and the flood from the clean slice of her heart soaking her clothes.

Faragonda wasn’t fast enough to even cover her eyes before Griffin's fingers left the soil and pushed a small bundle of necrotic tissue into the cut. The baby’s heart. She’d put it inside her own body, inside her own heart after it had rotted slowly in the ground for years under a spell. Like an anti flower in the darkness of the cave. That was what had sucked the ground dry despite the nearby lake.

Faragonda bent over and vomited, her retching barely reaching her own ears over Griffin's screams as her body ruptured and shattered. Valtor barely missed Faragonda’s head when he tossed the sword to the side to catch Griffin.

Wiping away her mouth, Faragonda pushed her hand on the nearest crystal. The pain reverberated through her to remind her of her own strength. Whatever sin Griffin had turned into, she could face it. She had to to make sure no one else would.

Looking overcame her with a new wave of nausea. Griffin was no longer a woman but a living corpse. Large portions of her luscious hair had fallen out to reveal a scalp covered in bite marks and blisters. At least in the places where her skin wasn’t stretched so thin that the skull was visible right underneath. Her fingertips had been bitten off and the rest of her skin was rotting right on the bones. There were holes in her body through which her organs could be seen floating inside like dead fish in an aquarium. Seaweeds and shells were lodged painfully under her skin and in her joints. There was nothing left in her body that was good for life, yet she was still moving as if her parts were controlled by someone else’s mind.

Faragonda’s voice was gone. If she ever spoke again, she would be the one bringing that horror into the outside world. Griffin's secret loot had turned out beyond her worst nightmares and she had only herself to blame. She’d refused to see the grand scheme connecting all the stolen spells and magic instructions and now she was witnessing it bearing fruit.

“I knew you were lying,” Valtor rasped, clutching Griffin desperately to his chest. His nails dug in her inhuman flesh but no blood spilled from the colorless mass of cells. “You fucking liar.” He’d break her if she bowed to the laws of physics.

“I am not dead.” Griffin's voice ripped tears out, both from Valtor and Faragonda. It was hoarse from the screams of her soul echoing in it and chilling everything to the bone.

Faragonda’s teeth chattered as she huddled in on herself. She was only alive thanks to Valtor’s body heat drifting through the cave.

“You’re not alive either.” He ran a finger over the parts of Griffin's lips that hadn’t been bitten off. It was so intimate it punched Faragonda in the gut. If they could still feel, what would it take for her to stop sympathizing with the abomination of nature and magic they’d become? “What are you?”

“You can’t tell?” The softest touch of her bony fingertip clawed a wound in his cheek like she’d forgotten how to be around life. It cried blood that Griffin pushed herself up to lick off, the crimson flashing through her gray hair for a moment before it ran out of steam and was lost in the graveyard of her body. “I am a goddess.” Red swirled in her eyes as she tore off her own shedding skin. “I can do anything I want.” She turned to the grave behind them, her body stiffening as if death finally caught up with it. “Except bring our daughter back.”

“You’ll never be yourself again either.” Valtor’s body moved of its own accord. It would just drop her and walk out but he regained control and pushed himself back down to the ground.

“I am not weak now.” Griffin reached inside her chest wound and pinched her sliced heart closed around the little heart inside it. She broke off her own fingers and stuck them in the tissue to hold it together like overly large needles since it wouldn't heal. It was dead. But she wasn’t.

Her bones regrew back, contrary to all logic, and her body twisted as if the new matter was squeezed out of it. She felt all the pain of the living decaying corpse she’d become but she hadn’t cried out once. She was a monster.

“You were the most human person I knew,” Valtor stroked her gray hair like he wasn’t afraid of it swallowing the rest of his life, too.

“Now I’m strong enough to defeat your mothers.” A tear fell from her eye – white like milk. “They killed my mother. They killed our daughter because I couldn't stop them. It’s all my fault.” Her voice died in her hollow throat.

“You should have told me,” Valtor crushed whatever was left of her stomach in his fist and Faragonda made a break for the lake. She would rather drown herself than be stuck with the two of them any longer. “But you kept your damn secret... like we always do.”

Griffin cupped his cheek, her flesh not eating through his to Faragonda’s and Valtor’s surprise. “No more secrets. The world will know its goddess and the treasure it lost.”

The ground shook, water erupting from the lake like a geyser and flooding everything. The salt stung Faragonda’s eyes but it was the smell of death that had poisoned it that made her lose her footing. A ship burst through the bed of the lake that was far too small for it. It was Griffin's Cloud Tower that she’d summoned magically.

Seaweeds and barnacles adorned the decaying wood as if it had spent the last century underwater. The distinct spiderweb-patterned sails were ripped and fatigued. The crew was on deck, wet to the bone and missing one body part or another that had been present the last time Faragonda had seen them. If she indulged the worst case scenario, they were affected by their captain’s condition but there was no need for hasty-

Her heartbeat hit her as a shockwave from outside. The mermaid figurehead swam into her spinning vision and Faragonda gasped for air. Its chest was pried open and inside was a charred heart that was beating with her pulse.

Griffin met her gaze head on like she’d been waiting for it. “Only my blood wouldn't work once I’d completed my transformation.” The crystals. They’d poked through both their feet and their blood had mixed into the ground underneath them. Griffin must have enchanted it beforehand to make the magic flow straight from the cave floor into the ship. She’d planned it all beforehand. “I am no longer the girl you knew.”

But the frightening thing was that she was still the same girl that had broken all the rules and offered no respect to the limitations imposed on her from others and from her mortal form. And Faragonda would have to explain to Marion and Oritel why she’d put a long-lost childhood friend over the rest of the world, why she’d kept a secret as big as the one Griffin had buried in the cave. She’d have to explain why she and Griffin shared the same weakness that would bring down the whole world.

“You’ll leave me behind again,” Valtor’s voice trembled from the rage spilling in it and Griffin’s arm under his palm caught fire but neither of them moved, tangled in each other like they were life and death.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Griffin pushed her hand into the flames as well and covered his to snuff them out with no effort. “But without death, there is nothing to leave behind,” she grinned and Valtor pulled her closer with just as much fervor as she was holding him with as they kissed.

How could Faragonda rob them of something so desperate and deprived?

#winx club #winx faragonda #winx griffin #winx valtor #writersmonth2021 #griffin x valtor #griffin and faragonda #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years ago

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Shsjsj Halloween prompt 38 with architechs? They’d probably get into some scooby doo shenanigans except ghosts are real

38. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

okay so i might’ve... gone off a little bit. this is more mystery incorporated shenanigans than normal scooby. mumbo-centric, the architechs go to a haunted house that may, in fact, be haunted. mumbo pays the price.

featuring: could a visit to a haunted house go any worse, mumbo is very interesting to local ghost population, unfortunately for him, real life au, mumbo's surprisingly resourceful considering, sometimes you just need two ghost girls to tell u to get moving, angst/comfort, horror vibes, happy ending

warnings: violence, knife violence, possession, referenced murder of children and adults, graphic injuries, blood, mumbo gets a lil messed up, but nobody dies who isn’t already dead

"Why did I let you two drag me into this?" Grian is checking the time on his phone whilst Iskall holds Mumbo's hand like he's about to run off. Which, Mumbo would, actually. Given half a chance he'd be catching the first bus out of here. Iskall raises his free hand in a shrug, smirking at Mumbo's question.

"We hardly dragged you, if I remember, you agreed willingly." Iskall leans closer as he teases him, poking Mumbo's cheek with the cool finger of his prosthetic.

Mumbo sighs, batting the finger away, "I agreed so you'd both stop asking! I didn't think we'd actually do it." Grian slips his phone into his pocket, rocking onto his heels. The look on his face is smug.

"Mumbo, you should know us better than that by now."

Iskall hums high in agreement, "Don't tell us you're scared."

"Lil scaredy Mumbo~." Mumbo brushes them away with a shake of his head. He can't believe he's friends with the two of them, he really can't.

"It's a haunted house, I'm supposed to be afraid!" He points out. "Additionally, I think it's kinda bad taste to have a haunted house set in an actual haunted manor. Surely that's disrespectful." Grian pulls Mumbo's other hand free, him and Iskall holding one each. Stepping backwards as they move up the line, Mumbo frowns when his foot gets caught in the roots overwhelming mossy, cracked stone planters. He glances down the line, unsure how he didn't notice them bordering this section of the queue before.

"Mumbo, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right? You are aware of this fact?" Iskall's voice, despite its taunting nature, has a hint of seriousness to it. Mumbo's attempt at a word disintegrates into several noises instead. Of course, that only encourages Iskall to laugh, throwing his head back at the force of it. Grian slides up to Mumbo's shoulder, bumping into it.

"It's okay, Mumbo, we'll protect you from the spooky ghosts!" Grian sing-songs 'spooky' for extra effect. That effect is making Mumbo want to hit him. Unfortunately, he can't, because they're both still holding his hands. Mumbo stares into the cold fluorescent lights instead, ignoring them. Grian laughs, Iskall quick to join him.

Mumbo will give it to the organisers, they know how to set a scene. Outside of the bustling noise and lights of the queue, the grounds are as black as the night sky overhead. The overgrown lawn brushes the stone foundation they're waiting on; blades of grass occasionally tickling his ankle as he shuffles from foot to foot. His shoes are still muddy from when they were queuing on the lawn further back. He's glad they got off that section. If he had to listen to Grian and Iskall guess what shape the topiaries used to be for much longer he would've gone insane. Another scream from within the house makes him jump, gripping Iskall's hand tighter out of instinct. Iskall throws him a smirk, and blessedly doesn't comment. Small miracles.

"We're nearly at the entrance!" Grian whispers, voice high with excitement. His fingers trace the stone wall of the house as they move. They lift when he reaches the wooden trim of a boarded up window, paint flaking under Grian's touch. He cringes, flicking the dried paint off his skin. Mumbo smiles to himself and pretends not to look.

"After what, an hour and a half?" Iskall asks, his voice as tired as Mumbo's feet feel. Grian checks his phone with a hum.

"More like an hour and a quarter." The bright screen lights his face with an eerie glow until he shuts it off. Iskall sighs, the dramatic nature overtaken by a piercing scream that sounds like it's on the other side of the wall next to them. The three of them freeze up, before they shake their heads with gentle laughter, normal conversation resuming.

"Have we got any signal yet?" Iskall asks.

"Nope!" Grian pops the word. At Iskall's groan, he laughs. "It's not my fault you're so addicted to social media."

"Not everybody can be so dedicated to our jobs," Iskall replies. Mumbo finds himself distracted by something out in the darkness of the lawn. It looks like two children, running in circles after each other. Their dresses look wholly impractical for the chill in the air. And too fancy for the muddy grass. Who would bring their children to a haunted house anyway? Staff members, maybe? Irresponsible parents?

His foot catches on a crack in the concrete, stumbling forward instead of a step. Iskall steadies him with the grip on his hand and Grian is quick to grab his shoulders. The two of them haul him upright again. Grian's smile is more amused than Iskall's concerned frown.

"You alright, dude?" He asks, checking Mumbo over carefully. Mumbo shakes his head, trying to dispel Iskall's worry.

"No, I'm fine. Foot got caught. I was watching the kids out on the-" Where he's pointing is empty. There are no white flashes of fabric where the children were, only the dark murkiness of night. "Oh. Well, they were there." Grian stares out into the lawn, skeptical.

"You sure you weren't seeing things, Mumbo?" Grian's voice is disbelieving, an edge of teasing slipping in.

"No, I- I swear they were right there. Two girls." He blinks, unsure where the two must have gone. He wasn't looking away for that long, but children are pretty fast.

"Maybe you saw some ghosts," Iskall joins the teasing. Mumbo huffs at them both, crossing his arms now Iskall has finally released his hand.

"You two are the worst," he decides.

"Spooky!" Grian sings, pulling himself onto Mumbo's shoulder as they step forward again. He feels a heavy relief as they finally round the corner and the dark porch comes into view. It looks like it's been restored, the paint on the wood shiny compared to the rest of the house. Although looking towards the roof of the porch, those metal spikes should've been left out. Someone could hurt themselves on those. Thankfully, the window above is boarded up.

"Finally," Iskall sighs, his shoulders slumping as the ticket checker comes into view. "Grian, you got them ready?" Grian hums, unzipping his coat pocket and pulling out the printed tickets.

"Right here!" He holds them up proudly. Mumbo twists around to see the ticket man. The clothes look pretty authentic. A neat waistcoat, a chain coming from the pocket, well-fitting slacks. A couple passes their tickets over, smiling as he takes them. Then the man takes out a straight-up pocket watch. They're… Really going for this, aren't they? Mumbo sticks his own hands in his jean pockets. He prefers modern comforts.

There are only a few more people ahead of them now. Mumbo shifts from foot to foot, his toe catching on the red carpet leading inside. He sighs. He's doomed to trip over everything tonight, isn't he? He looks up to find Grian looking at him, excitement in his expression. He tries to smile back, moving up to a drawn line on the carpet. There's nobody else in front of them now. Oh, they're actually doing this.

Upon a wave from the staff member, the trio heads up to the rope barrier. Past the entrance, the hallway splits into two, wooden signs marking each way. Yet, Mumbo can't help but be drawn to the bored-looking staff member as he holds his hand out. His eyes are a pale blue, almost white. Mumbo shudders when those eyes stare directly at him. He's quick to look away. This place is getting to him. Grian enthusiastically passes over their tickets, oblivious to the exchange beside him.

"Three adults," he says. The man nods, looking over each ticket and checking the time on his pocket watch. He punches a hole through the corner of each one before handing them back.

"Keep your tickets on you in case they need to be checked." Grian nods, giving Mumbo and Iskall their own ticket. Mumbo slips it into his pocket without checking. He printed them out earlier today at Grian's pestering. "And you'll need to leave your bag in the cloakroom, sir." The staff member gestures at the brown rucksack on Iskall's back. Iskall puts a hand on the strap, the bag containing their personal belongings. "It's a secure locker system, you only have to give them to the staff member there and you'll receive a wristband." They gesture down the second corridor, away from the queue and the noise.

"I can take it," Mumbo suggests. He could use a breather before they head into the attraction. Usually, he'd find his friends' excitement contagious, but right now it's only leaving him more unsettled. Iskall loosens the strap, sliding it off his back.

"You sure you won't get lost the moment we aren't holding your hands?" Iskall teases as he hands the bag to him. Mumbo rolls his eyes, slinging it over one of his shoulders.

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'll get lost simply going up a corridor." Grian steps forward, unbuttoning his red coat to reveal the just as red jumper underneath.

"Can you take my coat too?" Mumbo lays it over one of his arms, watching Grian grin. "Thanks, Mumbo, love you." Mumbo shakes his head, already taking a step towards the separate corridor and past the now-open rope barrier.

"I'll meet up with you guys in a minute," he tells them, precious cargo in hand. Grian and Iskall smile, Iskall offering a wave as they go ahead to join up with the queue.

"We won't go in without you!" Grian calls. Mumbo huffs a laugh.

"I'd prefer it if you did!" He calls in return. He watches until the two vanish behind the wall, their giggles merging into the crowd. The couple behind them are already joining the queue. Mumbo sighs, turning and checking the neat wooden sign before heading up the corridor. He's definitely going the right way.

Metal sconces light the wall, a dim light against dark, ornate wallpaper. He doesn't realise how quiet it's grown until he can hear the wooden floor creak beneath the carpet. He cringes at the sound, pleased when he reaches another rope, blocking off the corridor and directing him into a smaller room. He looks around at the wooden bookshelves, a cushioned seat in the corner. Another staff member (he hopes) leans on a doorway inside, reading a hardcover book. Mumbo hesitates before he approaches.

"Hey, uh, are you taking the bags? For the cloakroom?" Dark eyes look up to him. It's a woman this time, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She's also wearing a waistcoat, Mumbo assumes it must be their uniform.

"That would be me," the woman tells him, placing her book on the side table. Mumbo passes over the bag and coat, shrugging off his own to add to them. She disappears into the back room. Mumbo tries to peer in, but it's so dark he can't see anything. How can she tell where she's going? She comes back, presenting him with a wristband, an intricate pattern on both sides of the plastic. Mumbo takes it, frowning as he twirls it in his hand.

"Doesn't it have a number on it?" He asks, a little curious about what kind of system they're using here. The woman shrugs her shoulder.

"Doesn't need one," she tells him. She reaches over to pick up her book again, flicking it open. "Have a nice stay." Mumbo's mouth remains open for a few seconds too long before he realises he's been dismissed. At least this will make an interesting story to tell the other two. He steps back into the corridor, focusing on slipping the wristband on. Then he looks up and stops. The rope barrier is gone. For a moment he's unsure if he imagined it, but he's certain that there was a barrier here. And a sign. Glancing into the room, the staff member is gone too. Okay, right. He can figure this out.

He looks down both sides of the hallway, trying to guess what direction he came from. They're identical, carpeted floor and metal sconces leading off into darkness. Even the panelling on the wall below the patterned wallpaper offers no clues. With a sigh, he sticks his hands into his pockets, resting over his phone. Listening, the manor is quiet. He can't hear the occasional screaming, although there's some creaking overhead. Helpful. Well, it was just a straight walk to the entrance, wasn't it? He can follow the corridor and come back if he notices something unfamiliar.

His steps are more cautious as he starts down the hall. He's never going to hear the end of it if he actually gets lost. Certainly not down a straight corridor. He'd like to keep his dignity tonight, please. Whatever is left of it. Except, he's fairly certain the hall wasn't this long. Nor did he notice this musty smell until now. He touches a finger to his nose, scrunching it up. It smells like wet paper. Or… something like that, at least.

Giving up on this direction, he turns and goes the other way. From the outside, the manor didn't even look this big. This time, he takes more note of the closed doors lining the hall. The wooden frames match the doors, with a carved arch above each one. He pauses to look at the sculpted wood. A shield sits on top of twisted ribbon, although whatever was on the shield has been scratched off to reveal pale wood beneath. He walks to the next door only to find the same thing. Somebody didn't like the family coat of arms, then. It's the same down the entire corridor - the wood broken and splintered away.

He nearly jumps when he finds himself back in the entrance hall. The front door is shut. Mumbo didn't think this shut until later? Maybe they hit capacity. He tilts his head in the direction of the queue, surprised when he hears silence. Surely Grian and Iskall would be waiting for him somewhere, right? That same ticket person with the spooky eyes is at the door. Mumbo steels himself before approaching him.

"Um, sir?" He gets no response from the man. He stares at the door as if Mumbo hadn't spoken. Mumbo closes the distance, coming up behind him. "Excuse me?" He reaches out to tap his shoulder, wondering if he's wearing headphones Mumbo hasn't spotted.

Mumbo's fingers go straight through his shoulder.

There's a brief, still second where nothing moves. Mumbo stares at his hand in shock, hanging inside the now transparent arm. His mouth opens, brain desperately trying to catch up with this new situation. The rest of his body kicks in, pulling him away, clutching his hand like he's been burnt. His fingers are freezing, colder than they were after being stood in that queue. In a panic, he glances upwards, searching for a projector of some kind.

"It has to be," he murmurs. His gentle voice feels so loud in the entrance. Like laughter in a graveyard. He didn't see the floor up above the first time he entered, or the huge black chandelier that seems to be waving in an absent breeze. There's no tell-tale flicker of a projector. Oh jeez. He turns back to the door.

Those eyes are right in front of him.

A shout gets caught in his throat, body tumbling over and into the wall behind him in his attempt to fling himself away. His fingers press into the carpet beneath him, legs shuffling backwards until his back is straight against the wall. The man is still walking towards him and Mumbo genuinely thinks his heart couldn't beat harder if it tried.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I'm a little lost right now and- oh goodness I put my hand through your shoulder, what is happening-?" Whether the man hears him or not is impossible to tell, but Mumbo has a sinking feeling nothing good is going to happen if he touches him. He's only getting closer and Mumbo is running out of options here.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, the man reaches his hand out towards Mumbo, lips pulling into an unnaturally wide smile on a face that has only seemed disinterested until now. Second, Mumbo throws himself to the side, landing on his hands on the carpet beside him and trying to scramble to his feet. Third, the room plunges into darkness.

Mumbo falls straight into the wall, nails scratching the wood to pull himself up. He can't make out anything. He feels around him blindly, finding an empty space and taking quick, clumsy steps into it. He blinks hard. Once, twice. The world is still dark. Except, as he raises his arm to feel in front of him again, except for that wristband.

He presses against the wall, checking from side to side as if he could see any threat coming for him. Convincing himself he's at least somewhat safe, he examines the wristband. The strange pattern in the plastic is glowing. It's literally glowing. He traces along the indent first, but can't spot any hidden LEDs. Then he tries to take the band off. The band does not come off.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." He can't even fit his nails underneath the plastic. This has to be a joke, right? Some kind of big misunderstanding? He fumbles in his pocket until he's pulling out his phone, even more relieved now that he didn't leave it in his coat. The screen lights up, making his hands silver in its glow. It's nearly midnight. He groans in frustration when he remembers that, of course, there's no signal. Not even for emergency calls. He's an idiot. Unlocking the screen, he goes to the one thing his phone can be useful for.

He hovers over the button before switching on the flashlight, chest tight until he confirms there's no man (ghost, was that a ghost? It can't be-) waiting for him. He swings the light around him nervously, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't even remember entering a door, but it seems like he's in a living room of some kind. There's a stone fireplace in the wall, comfortable chairs and a large love seat. Lingering on the fireplace, he's distracted from the stonework by the charred wood and ash gathered at the bottom. There's still a hint of amber in the embers, letting off so little light it's barely noticeable. Was it on recently? He doesn't feel it in the air, his arms having broken into goosebumps under his dress shirt.

The other people waiting for the attraction can't have moved too far, and Grian and Iskall should be with them. He takes a deep breath, calming his thoughts and steadying himself. Yeah. He just needs to find everyone else. They should have lights, and people, and hopefully staff members he doesn't put his hand through. Perfect.

He creeps to the doorway, careful to shine his phone through it first. The hallway looks identical. Though, when he looks closer, it's in better condition to the other side. Towards the ceiling, where wallpaper was ripped to show the broken plasterboard beneath, it's immaculate. He catches the shine of wood over the door. The coat of arms is intact. He takes in the dragon on the shield. It's pretty cool, he wonders why it was broken in the other hall.

Only when he's sure the hallway is safe does he continue down it. He guesses how far away the queue must be. Worst case, they've taken them somewhere safe and out of the way. Hopefully Grian and Iskall have raised the alarm for him. He's keeping an eye out for any staff members or… anyone, actually. He'd just like to see another person in the darkness.

He cringes as a creak pierces the air, lifting his foot quickly. He hates old houses. He hates them so much. As he hovers his phone over it, though, the carpet even looks fluffy. That's absurd. He shakes it off and attempts to tread lighter, the little it helps. His creaking steps and soft breaths are the only things he can hear. He'd think as he got closer to the others, he might hear them but there's nothing so far. It's unnerving. As if he isn't unnerved enough.

He stops so quickly he nearly loses his footing at a flash of white down the hallway. He holds the light over the open doorway. It wasn't the right height to be that man. Perhaps another person? He steps forward, attempting to peek into the room.

He calls a nervous, "Hello?" Then realises he sounds like every white person in a horror movie. He stills when a face peers around the door. It's one of the children from earlier. This close, the girl is unnaturally pale, with almost a glow to her. Mumbo relaxes a little anyway, relieved to see a kind of familiar face. He crouches down to her height. "Hey, do you know where anyone is? Your parents maybe? I'm a little lost." She edges out from behind the door, neat white dress following her. It's lacy around the top, a line towards the bottom marking out wavy fabric around her feet. Which, he notices, don't have any shoes on.

When she speaks, it's with a gentle echo, like a song, "You can see me?" Mumbo frowns, watching her small hand push away some of the tight waves that have fallen from her braid.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I-" He's cut off when the girl's mouth drops open. She steps away from him, taking a deep breath. Mumbo's not sure what he's done wrong when she screams. He has to raise his hands to his ears, flinching at the high sound. Despite his phone's light pointing away, he can still see her clearly. Especially as she turns and runs. Straight… straight through a wall. Mumbo would very much like off this ride now. He pushes himself upright on his knees and freezes. He can feel something staring at him. She wasn't reacting to him, was she? Brandishing his phone in front of him, he spins, dragging his feet down the corridor.

The man is walking slowly towards him. One foot after the other. Purposeful. Mumbo shivers, can't look into those eyes.

"What do you want?" He demands. "I'm honestly very confused right now, and I'd really like some answers." He walks backwards, keeping distance between them both.

"It's been a long time since we've had a guest like you." Mumbo swears that voice wasn't so deep before. It's almost static around the edges, hurting Mumbo's ears. "You'll make a wonderful addition to the house." Mumbo pulls himself up taller, straightening his back.

"That's- that's a really nice offer but I'm really, very happy with my current job! I'm sorry but I'm not on the market right now!" There's no break in pace. Only the return of that smile, looking too big, too tight. Like the face it's on isn't made for it.

"I think your spirit would be perfect to mould." The words make Mumbo's chest seize in terror. He doesn't need to understand the full implication behind them to realise that's not good.

"Okay. Don't really want that. If you could just- I don't know, let me leave? Find my friends?" That is not the face of someone who's going to let him leave. His back knocks into a wall. He glances around him, panic consuming any rational thought. He's breathing too fast but it feels like he isn't breathing at all. There, next to him. Wooden stairs, twisting up into darkness. He looks at the approaching man and the hall he's backed into. There's nowhere else to go.

He leaps the first two stairs, one of his hands catching himself on the wood to push himself up. The light around him swings wildly as he struggles to keep his phone steady. Using his hand and feet, he scarpers to the landing, falling back onto carpet edged with small metal grippers, shaped like studded semi-circles. He drags himself up using the wall, swaying on his feet and taking deep breaths.

The man doesn't suddenly appear behind him, but Mumbo isn't taking any chances. He searches the immediate area and finds only one direction available. He hopes the others are nearby and runs down the hallway, hoping to put as much distance between him and that man as possible. There are no lights on up here either, but as he gets around, he realises that the windows aren't boarded up. Instead, a full moon shines bright silver light into the manor. Mumbo checks the time on his phone as turns off the torch. He needs to save battery.

It's nearly midnight. His lip twists. Did he read it wrong before? He must have. He was panicking. It makes sense. He's still got plenty of charge too, which is a relief. However, his hope that the change in height would give him service is quickly dashed. Obviously, he can't have too many good things.

He comes to a stop upon reaching a branch in the hallway. There are two directions he could go. Neither has an obvious sign stating, 'This way!' It would've been nice. So he picks the left for no other reason than maze logic. Always follow the left wall. It also seems more lit up, which is vastly preferable to the darkness in other parts of the manor. It smells less of dust up here, too. He can smell something distantly flowery. Maybe the garden is in better condition than the front lawn?

Since he's on the top floor, he takes the opportunity to look into some of the rooms. Mostly bedrooms, he notices. A lot of the beds are pristinely made, sheets looking like they've been washed recently. In one room there's a half-full glass on a nightstand. In another, a cup of tea sends twisted patterns of steam into the freezing air. Mumbo enters that room, curious if anybody's nearby. There are more signs of life on this floor. He's taking in the four-poster bed with fabric tied to the posts when he hears distant singing.

He turns towards the sound automatically, hands falling heavy by his sides. Singing, that must mean a person. He leaves the room, following the sound. The haunting notes fill his head in the silence through the manor. Each step brings him closer to the source, losing sight of the space around him. He vaguely notices his fingers slipping from his phone, and pushes the device into his pocket instead. His fingers fall limp once he does.

The room he enters is another bedroom. The bed is the largest he's seen so far, but besides the singing, all he takes in is the scent of lavender. Taking over his senses, soothing his thoughts into a quiet hum. Both the song and the lavender are coming from a woman, sitting in front of her vanity as she brushes long, dark hair. Mumbo takes small steps towards her before stopping, waiting in place. He remains there, watching, letting her song fill his head until there are no thoughts of his own left.

The click of her hairbrush on the vanity marks the end of the song. The woman stands, every movement poised, as she walks towards the silent Mumbo. His eyes are partially closed, head falling forward with his shoulders. She reaches under his chin, ice-cold fingers tilting his face towards her. Their eyes meet, dark brown into light, glassy blue.

"Oh, you poor thing." Her words have a similar song-like quality, dripping with sadness. "You must be so lost." Mumbo's eyes grow heavier as her other hand cups the back of his head, holding him still in front of her. "Rest, now. Rest and I'll make it all better." His eyes slip shut, mind falling completely silent.

When they open again, he's in front of a circular window. He steps towards it automatically. He wants to see his garden before he goes to bed. It looks so pretty in the nighttime. The moon shines cold light onto his face, the glow of the glass enchanting.

Nothing prepares him for the shove. His spine shouts in pain as the world shifts beneath him. Gravity changes and he raises thin arms to protect himself, his feet unable to find the ground. Glass shatters against his weight in a cacophony of noise and he's falling- the porch rushing to meet him, no longer decorative black spikes he can't bear to look at growing closer as he shuts his eyes-

Mumbo gasps as his eyes shoot open. He's leaning out of the shattered window, gusts of wind streaking through his hair, pinning his shirt to his body. The moon in front of him is bright, catching on the splintered glass in the window frame. Every breath feels heavy in his lungs, his entire body shivering in the chill of the air. Outside, the lawn is… Different. The grass is immaculate, flowerbeds blossoming in a way that still tugs at some part of his mind he's not convinced is his own. The once-broken planters along the pathway are shining in the glow of the moon, not a crack to be found. He can only glance at the spikes on the porch, pain stabbing through his chest and arms at the sight. And the queue, where's the queue?

He attempts to stumble away, hissing as he lifts his hands and finds thick lines of blood. How did he not feel that before? He looks at the glass shards where his hands were just resting. In fact, how didn't he feel the tugging pressure on either side of his shirt, or see the pale faces watching him-?

He screams. The girls let go of his shirt as he backs into the wall, pressing his bleeding palms flat against the panelling. They watch, making no move towards him. Simply watching. Mumbo's strength finally gives up and he sinks down the wall until he hits the ground. Burying his face into his knees, he takes a few seconds to just breathe. The girls are still watching him when he looks back up, twin faces expressionless.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts. The girls look at each other, expressions becoming almost… Remorseful?

"We want to help you," one says. She's taller, hair tied into a ponytail by a simple ribbon.

"You shouldn't be here," the other tells him. The one from before, with the untidy braid. "He's trapped you here." Mumbo presses his clenched fists against his face, making a soft whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears.

"Who is he? What is going on? I'm just-" He runs out of words to say. The shorter girl looks down the hallway. They exchange another look and the taller holds a hand out, encouraging him up.

"We should go to our room."

"You get affected by her." Mumbo looks at the empty window in front of him. The glass shards taunt him, memories that aren't quite his own mingled with stinging palms. He pushes himself onto his feet. What other option does he have? He's lost, he's freezing, he's scared. When this day started, he didn't think he'd be taking comfort in two ghost girls. But here he is.

"Okay. Okay, I'll follow you." The taller girl takes Mumbo's hand. Her touch is like cold velvet against his already freezing skin. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets the pair lead him. Away from the broken window and the lingering scent of lavender. Further into the house with more direction than he's had since he arrived. The shorter girl skips ahead, peeking around doors and corners before gesturing them on.

They come to a stop in a bedroom. It's pretty. That's the best way he can think to describe this room. The curtains are drawn, frills down to the floor. A dollhouse sits in the corner of the room beside the bed, dolls still, as if caught in time. And two twin beds. They're unmade yet a pristinely bright white. Besides dark spots on the edges of the pillows where the covers are drawn back, marking each bed. A glistening red, matching the deep cuts on his hands-

"Is that blood?" He hisses, freezing in place. The taller girl turns to look at him, tilting her head.

"This is our bedroom," she says it as if that should answer all of his questions. It does not. Not at all.

"But- Why is there blood?" He gestures at the stained sheets. His hand is released as both girls enter the room. The shorter girl picks up a discarded teddy from the floor.

"This is where we died," the taller tells him, jumping up and sitting on the bed. Her dress falls delicately around her, blending in with the covers. The shorter girl pushes herself up, sitting so they both face him. Mumbo stares. He hates to admit it, but he just stares. He understood, logically, they had to be dead. He saw one of them run through a wall. But hearing them say it, so simply? How is he supposed to react to that?

"Died- right-" He hides his face, trying to keep himself calm. "You're ghosts. Of course. That-" Something else clicks, "Blood. There's blood. You two-"

"Murdered," the shorter one says.

"By him. Our father," the taller adds. Mumbo looks at them both closely. They look so small.

"You- that's so much blood." The taller girl looks at the patch, she reaches out, scraping her finger against the stain. "You don't look like it."

"We choose not to." Mumbo blinks and suddenly the girls have blood streaming from their necks and staining their dresses, the skin torn almost all the way through-

He blinks again and it's gone, along with his breath. There are just two girls with skin nearly as pale and flawless as their white dresses. He raises a hand to his mouth, unsure if he wants to be sick or cry. They're just- they're so young.

"It's okay," the shorter girl tells him. She's crossed her legs, her teddy sat in the middle. "We were sleeping. We didn't feel it." Mumbo can barely look at them without seeing the red.

"Oh- oh, I feel sick." There's nowhere in the room for him to sit, so he settles for the floor. His legs shake as he lowers himself, finally dropping with a thud. The girls look down at him, always watching. It's as if he's something fascinating to them. Those bright eyes examine his every movement.

"Our father is the one who trapped you here," the taller girl tells him. "We're all trapped here. Our family, and the people he's got since."

"The people he's got since?" Mumbo questions, the implication of that hitting him like a truck. "Like me?" They both nod.

"It used to be explorers," she speaks like she's telling a story, her words weaving pictures in Mumbo's mind, "most of them came and went. We'd watch them as they flashed their big boxes or tubes."

"But some of them could see us," the shorter one calls, face brightening in genuine excitement.

"Those were the ones he trapped. We'd listen to them scream and then they were trapped, like us." Mumbo's fingers unconsciously reach for his phone, holding it tight for comfort. Maybe he should write a message. Texts that won't send. Some sorries and 'I love you's.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks. "You're trapped here too." They turn to each other, smiling with slight nods.

"We decided to help," the taller one says.

"You were nice," the smaller continues. Mumbo holds his arm up, looking at the wristband. It continues glowing. He gives it a cursory push. Still no give. He’s so lost.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He asks. They turn to each other as their faces scrunch up.

"We're not sure."

"We've never done this before." Mumbo groans, sinking back until he's lying on the carpeted floor. His hand presses into his face until he grimaces at the sticky, congealing blood.

"I'm going to die here," he murmurs. "I'm going to die here because apparently, I can see ghosts and my friends dragged me to a haunted house! I'm going to die!" He flashes his phone screen on, wishing for something. A message, a hint of signal and not the time, still showing it's right before midnight. Not that. The only one out of the three he gets. His hands sting more at the stretch of movement.

"Are you finished?" He yelps when he lowers the phone and finds both girls standing over him. His arms are above his face as protection before he processes what's happening. He reveals a sliver of vision between his pale forearms. They're frowning.

"You're not going to escape by having a tantrum on the floor," the shorter tells him, her voice sharp as a teacher's. He's going to die and his last memories are going to be of dead children scolding him like he's one of them. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

"Come on. Let's go." Small hands tug at him as they attempt to pull him upright. It feels as effective as he is when he's stayed up too late, about to pass out standing up. "Do you want to be stuck here forever? Don't you have a family to go back to?" And Mumbo does. He has his family and-

"My friends. I came here with two friends." Grian and Iskall, what would they think? Would they even find a body, or would Mumbo have walked down that hallway and simply vanished? His mind rushes with questions that he doesn't want answers to. He doesn't want to see his friends search for him. He doesn't want to see them mourn.

"Well, get up then. Let's go." The shorter girl claps for emphasis. This time, Mumbo does, using his arm as a pillar despite how it hurts.

"I think," the taller declares, "we should try to get you outside. That's got to work, right?" Her questioning tone leaves Mumbo less than optimistic, but it's not as if he has any other options.

"But that means going downstairs," the shorter girl whispers it like the words have weight.

"Downstairs?" Mumbo echoes.

"That's where he is." The taller girl is already walking ahead, taking Mumbo's hand as she does. "But how else are we going to get outside?"

"A window?" The shorter suggests. She takes Mumbo's other hand, the pair of them taking the lead with no option but to follow. They continue their discussion around him.

"No. The only open one is mother's and he can't go near it again. She's stronger than us, we nearly lost him before." Mumbo isn't sure how he feels about being discussed like this. They're leaning forwards as they walk, looking at each other. Yet they're leading him down the halls still. Walking blindly through the maze that had Mumbo so lost like it’s effortless.

"The front door is shut too." The shorter has her face scrunched up, dark hair falling into it again. "We're not strong enough to open it."

"The garden, then."

"That door was shut too." Their gentle bickering reminds him of Grian and Iskall. Silently, he accepts his fate. He's putting his life in the hands of two girls that have no idea what they're doing. Children. He is completely and utterly screwed. He's never going to hear Iskall and Grian bicker again. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe away what might be tears stinging his eyes. Little fingers hold on tighter.

The halls all blend together the longer they walk. They fall into a single file line, the taller girl leading. Only his footsteps make a sound - muted thuds through the house, less creaks now he has two people guiding him. Mumbo's in awe at the size of the manor. He allows that to occupy his mind for a little while. How would you even fill half of these rooms? They must have had servants for cleaning. In its day, this must've been an incredible place to grow up. Now, it's a prison. It's likely going to be his prison. The manor loses some grandeur at that thought.

The taller releases his hand and leans forward, sticking her upper body straight through a wall. Mumbo blinks. He's never going to get used to that. She steps away, nodding at them both.

"It's empty." The shorter girl nods in return, the pair sneaking around the partially closed door. Mumbo follows, ducking into a small, twisting, wooden staircase. The girls are skipping down the stairs, leaning on the central column to peer around. They glance at him occasionally, as if checking he's still there. Mumbo makes sure he's in their sight, feet struggling to fit on the stairs. This staircase wasn't made for somebody as tall as him.

Towards the bottom, he can pick up on a distinct noise slicing through the silence. The two girls have paused at the exit to the stairs, listening. It’s a harsh scrape, splintering underneath. Terror catches Mumbo's heart, the beat jumping in his ears. Is somebody destroying the house? What is that?

"He's doing it again," the shorter comments, her face and voice grumpy. Mumbo is about to ask what he's doing, but the pair are already determinedly walking ahead. He'll defer to the experts.

"That's the only way to the entrance," the taller says, her gentle features pinched in thought. It's not directed at him. The words sink in anyway.

"We have to go past him?" He asks, continuing to follow despite his poor instincts trying to protect him. Their faces are set in grim determination.

"Yes."

Mumbo has to fight to find words, "That's- that's a terrible idea! He wants to kill me." He presses his fist against his chest at the thought. One near death experience would be enough for one night. He's had several!

"He's already killed us," the shorter helpfully reminds him. Mumbo squeezes his eyes shut to calm down.

"We can figure it out," the taller replies. Honestly, Mumbo would just like to curl up in a corner and fade out of existence. That would be far preferable to this. But, he's already come this far, and they're both looking at him expectantly.

"Planning," he suggests, "we could come up with a plan." They exchange looks.

"Planning's for adults," the taller decides. The shorter girl is already running ahead, scouting their path out. Mumbo makes a particularly undignified noise.

"I'm an adult!" He calls. His statement is ignored. The girls are storming ahead with a determination Mumbo wishes he had. Maybe there are some advantages to being dead. It's not like anyone can kill you again. Can they?

The girls come to a stop in front of a corner. The taller puts her fingers on her lips. The harsh scraping is louder, vibrating through the walls. Mumbo can hear thuds, softened by the carpet. He clutches one of his hands tight to his chest. The gashes have nearly stopped bleeding. His entire palm is stained red - he's surprised he's not left marks on the house or the girls. Just another weird thing to keep track of.

The shorter girl pulls him closer, encouraging him to look around the corner. It's the same man as before, that's for certain. His appearance has changed, once tidy hair unkempt, waistcoat undone and torn. Mumbo flinches as a knife glints in the darkness. The man lunges forward, stabbing the blade into the wood above the door and prying at the carving, splintering wood around him. His focus is immovable as he drives the knife in further. Mumbo winces.

A tug on his shirt brings him to attention. The taller girl is pointing to something in the darkness. It hits Mumbo that he can barely see. He's been so reliant on the natural glow from the two girls, he forgot it's pitch black down here. He has no idea what she's pointing at or any idea how to articulate that. With one hand, he covers his eyes, shaking his head. When he looks again, the two girls are frowning, looking at each other. Finally, they nod. The shorter darts to the other side of the hall, vanishing into the wall.

Mumbo watches in confusion until in the darkness of the hall, a doorway is lit up by her silhouette. Her cheeks are scrunching up her eyes as she grins. The taller girl turns to him, a question in her eyes. Mumbo nods, offering a thumbs up. She nods back, checking the position of her father. Then she points, mouthing a clear, 'Go.'

Mumbo takes the chance, transferring his weight to his toes. He waits for the sound of the knife hitting wood before running, feet light across the carpet until he reaches the doorway, falling into the room. Both girls are waiting for him. The shorter girl pokes her head out, returning with a big grin. Mumbo releases his breath, sinking onto the wall beside the doorframe. One stage closer. He allows himself a hint of relief, hope within reach. If they're patient, they should make it. He checks his phone. Still nearly midnight. They've got time.

The taller girl vanishes through one of the walls. Mumbo stays put, waiting for his next instruction. Sure, they'll have to figure out what to do next. But if he gets through this, Mumbo thinks he could do anything.

He makes it to the next room, using the sound of the knife against wood and the glow of the girls to guide him. The man is close now. Mumbo breathes lightly, body tensed. The scraping stops. The three wait for it to start up again so they can decide their next move.

Instead, the knife stabs through the wall with a loud yell, inches away from Mumbo's head.

Mumbo realises the shout was his own, throwing himself away from the wall and falling against a velvet chair. He manages to keep himself upright on shaky hands, twisting to face the door. The girls have twin looks of terror. Mumbo presses against the wall away from the door, a glowing silhouette blocking out the creeping darkness.

"There you are." The man walks in. The knife is armed in his hand. "I knew I could smell something alive around here." To Mumbo's surprise, the taller girl gets in front of him, digging her hands into his hips. The man stops.

"Let him go!" She orders, stomping her foot. The shorter girl stands beside her, crossing her arms. They form a protective wall in front of Mumbo. His heart aches. The man, their supposed father, only scowls.

"Begone, brats." Mumbo feels the air shift. The girls look at each other in horror before they vanish, leaving the room empty. Nothing in-between Mumbo and the man and the knife.

"What did you do to them?!" He demands, his arms raised protectively. He tries to look around for the girls but he can't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"I sent them away." The man steps forward. He taps the knife in his hand. The metal glints in his glow. Maybe, just maybe, the knife won't be able to hurt him. Please. "It'll take a while until they can manifest again."

"How can you-" Mumbo reaches for his hair but flinches as the strands irritate his hand. "You're sick. How can you do this to them? They're children!" The man continues forward. That knife is too close, way too close. He'd prefer it if it was on the other side of the house, in fact.

"They were going to leave me." Mumbo stumbles backwards as if the words sent off a shockwave. "Just like you're trying to."

"They had every reason to!" Mumbo argues. He- he murdered them. He wants to do the same to Mumbo! "And I'm quite attached to my life as well!"

"You signed your life away already." Mumbo jumps to the side away from the swing of the knife. "You've been carrying the contract in your pocket the entire time." Mumbo knows his confusion is showing on his face. All he has in his pockets is his phone. His phone and-

"This?" Mumbo drags the ticket free of his pocket, brandishing the crumpled paper in front of the man like a weapon. It looks ordinary. One adult, entrance to the manor, on today's date. The hole is still punched in the corner.

"It never said anything about leaving." Mumbo's heart drops at the words. Of course it didn't. That's- that's never written into websites or tickets. He wouldn't look for it because it's not like he ever expects this to happen.

"Well-" he grabs both ends of the ticket, tearing it in two with a satisfying rip, "-I void that contract. I don't agree." Nothing happens. The man's face shifts to one of amusement before he barks out a grating laugh. Mumbo frowns, missing the joke.

"You think that will save you?" The man asks, slinking towards him again. "You think I can't take your soul by force? Where have you got to run?" Mumbo jumps back from a swing that nearly catches his side. He eyes up the doorway. The man is standing in his way but- A plan comes to his head. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He kicks, watching the amusement on the man's face as his foot goes straight through him. Mumbo uses the momentum to dive forwards, straight through the man's body. It feels like plunging into a frozen ocean, leaving him gasping for air. But he's out. He's in the hallway. His hand presses against the wall until he gets his feet under him, sprinting into the empty darkness.

He holds his arm out, wishing the glow of the wristband was brighter to guide him. There's a roar behind him, sending Mumbo's body into violent shivers. He feels like he might cry. He forces one foot after another, hoping that the entrance is somewhere ahead of him. He doesn't know what it'll solve. Maybe it's a moral victory.

His hopes are dashed when his hand hits a wall. The pain is overshadowed by crushing defeat, the panic threatening to choke him. He presses around but can't find where to go. This was supposed to be a straight hallway! High-pitched, scraping drags closer to him, the sound growing louder. Mumbo turns, frozen before the man. It can't end here. Please, he doesn't want to die.

"It'll be over soon," the man tells him, words like ice in Mumbo's lungs. The knife gleams as it raises above Mumbo's head. His scream comes out as a sob, raising his arms in a last, futile attempt at defence.

The knife hits the wristband.

Mumbo barely registers the fact he's not been hit as the plastic glows, growing brighter as it peels away from sweaty skin. Something silent in the air bursts. He hears a scream as he loses his footing to the force. Falling backwards, the man is gradually vanishing, expression twisted in pain. Mumbo's head cracks against the wall behind him. He slumps onto the carpet, thoughts swimming. He blinks once. Twice. The darkness of the hallway takes over his thoughts, sliding into silence.

"I think he's waking up!" Mumbo's head feels like concrete. Everything throbs in time to his heartbeat, the voices around him are so loud he can't focus on the words. There's something soft touching his cheek, reminiscent of an earlier touch, freezing cold-

He flinches away from it, head swirling in pain. Another touch steadies him. He realises there's something cool and damp against the back of his head. He raises his hand, trying to touch it but brushing against something else solid, warm. Cautiously, he forces his eyes open, wincing at the brightness that awaits him. There's shadows moving in his vision, one of them speaking.

"-bo? Hey, can you hear us?" Mumbo nods, whining at the pain that movement sends through his head. He rests his forehead on a closed fist, giving the fog in his brain time to dissipate. Everything is blissfully quiet around him, the only noise being distant footsteps and creaking floorboards.

The night hits him at once. He startles up, swaying before he can even get his feet under him. Hands on his shoulders keep him from standing.

"Woah, hey. You had a nasty fall. Careful." The voice sinks into Mumbo's mind. He finds himself looking into dark brown eyes, bright red at the edge of his vision. He leaps forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Grian." His voice breaks on the name. Those arms reach around him, patting his back robotically.

"Mumbo?" Grian's voice is confused as he hugs back. "It's only been a few minutes, dude. You weren't out for that long." Mumbo's breath comes out as a wheeze.

"What time is it?" He asks, almost desperate. There's a pause, Grian's head lifting up.

"Like, ten minutes past midnight." There's Iskall. They're both here. Safe. He's safe. "Mumbo are you okay? Besides the head injury and- your hands. Like, dude?" Mumbo's breath comes out shaky with the tears he forces back.

"I'm- I'm okay. I think." He looks around the familiar hallway. The carpet is worn and dirty, the wallpaper peeling in places. Above the nearest doorway, the wooden coat of arms is broken.

"What even happened, Mumbo?" Grian asks. He gets shuffled to the side as a young man kneels down, a medical kit in his hands. Mumbo shuts his eyes, trying to think. A lot. A lot happened. Oh goodness, a lot has happened. He doesn't even know where to start.

So instead, he lies, "I- I tripped."

"You tripped?" Grian sounds in disbelief.

"When I joked about letting go of your hand, I didn't mean for it to be serious." The joking in Iskall's voice is shadowed by worry. That conversation feels like it happened hours ago. Mumbo holds his hands out for the first aider, allowing him to wipe the nearly closed up wounds. He winces at the sting of alcohol, sitting patiently and trying not to move.

"Do we need a babysitter for you?" Grian joins in with the teasing. It sounds just as concerned. Mumbo tries to smile. He feels exhausted down to his very bones. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep.

"I'm okay," he attempts to reassure them. "Honestly, I need to look where I'm going." It's so much easier than explaining what really happened.

"Maybe you were tripped by a ghost," Iskall jokes. It falls a bit flat, considering, but Mumbo finds himself laughing anyway. This is absurd. Did he just imagine all of that?

"There you go, all bandaged up." The first aider releases Mumbo's hand. Mumbo flexes them, feeling bandages shift around his palms. It's going to be a nightmare working with this. "No idea how you did it, mind. They look almost healed. Old wounds?" Mumbo hums, allowing the guy to take whatever answer he wants from it. "You should be fine to go home, anyway." Mumbo sags in relief before remembering the original reason for their visit.

"But what about you two?" He asks, "Don't you want to do the attraction?"

"Dude, we can do the attraction another time. We're taking you home." Grian nods in agreement at Iskall's words. Mumbo sits back, gently poking the ice pack on his head. It's beginning to melt into his hair. He takes it off, offering it back to the first aider.

"Hey." Mumbo looks up at a familiar voice, jumping away from the woman who approaches. She's no longer wearing a waistcoat, instead, there's a dark hoodie. Her hair is still in a ponytail. "Got your bags." Her eyes meet Mumbo's. They glint with a knowing smile, lightening to an almost-white. He stares at her as Iskall takes their stuff. Then, she turns away, waving over her shoulder. Grian offers his hands out to Mumbo, helping him onto his feet.

"Come on, let's get Mr Accident Prone here home," Grian calls to Iskall, wrapping his arm around Mumbo's waist. Iskall laughs, turning and thanking the staff members for their help whilst Grian walks with Mumbo to the entrance. Mumbo tries not to tense as the hallway opens up, but he does. He only relaxes once he sees the open door and no sign of that man. Grian looks at him in concern, asking a soft, "You alright?"

"I'm fine, sorry." Grian obviously isn't convinced, but they wait by the door for Iskall to catch up. He appears shortly after, rucksack on his back and their coats slung over his arm. He holds them out for Grian and Mumbo to take. Mumbo wraps himself up tightly, trying to stave off some of the lingering chill in his bones.

A weight leaves Mumbo's shoulders when they step outside. The queue is still chatting away and, for once, Mumbo doesn't care about the stares they get. He's far, far too tired. Grian leads him along with a warm hand in his, past the queue and under the bright lights. The grounds are in the same decay that Mumbo remembers from when they arrived.

"Right," Grian turns to Mumbo, squeezing his hand, "what actually happened, then?" Mumbo pauses, looking at Grian and trying to tell if he's serious.

"You're a terrible liar, Mumbo," Iskall informs him, backing Grian up.

"And why were you freezing up at things? Like that girl and the entrance? Clearly something's up."

"And you're clumsy but not that clumsy. Plus your hands! There was nothing sharp in the hall!" They're both so concerned, eyes watching Mumbo carefully. They probably think somebody picked a fight with him. They wouldn't be too far off.

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mumbo replies, at last. Grian groans at him, Iskall rolling his eyes. Mumbo takes a second to glance back at the manor, standing tall in the night.

For a split second, he sees the manor as it once was. Windows closed and uncovered, the one above the porch shattered as blood drips onto the porch railing below. The flowers are blooming, the paint shining. And on the lawn, he sees two young girls, running across the tidy grass. He thinks he can hear their laughter in the distance. Then it's gone, returned to the abandoned manor someone decided to set a haunted house up in.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he says, turning to Iskall as he parrots those earlier words. The two of them make loud noises, falling over each other in argument.

"What does that mean?!" Grian cries, waving his hands. "Come on, Mumbo!" Mumbo laughs tiredly, resolving to ignore their protests. Maybe he'll tell them another time. Tonight, he just wants to put this entire experience behind him. Curl up in a warm bed and sleep until he doesn't feel ready to fall over.

He's not going anywhere haunted for a long time.

#hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #mumbojumbo #grian #iskall85 #my writing #ask #haworthiaace #this was supposed to be just the beginning convo #and then i just... kept going #anyway i return from holiday with a fic how are yall doing

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years ago

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HTaHHQ episode 4: Unarmed part 2

And thus Stacy is now a little bit more used to all the Puppets, though she's not terribly happy at Scout right now. Hopefully they can work through it, but we'll have to see.

Luckily, Stacy only blacked out for a few seconds before her senses returned. There was a lot of yelling involved, which was torture on her pounding head, but, luckily, she didn't seem to have landed on anyone. She sat up with a groan, and everyone was instantly on her. Danny buried his face in her shirt with a loud sob(gross), and the Puppets clung to them both while yelling questions.

"Are you okay?!" Canon clung to her hair, swinging in front of her face. Stacy carefully grabbed the Puppet and set her down, then patted Danny's head.

"I'm fine." She assured them quietly. "Just slipped, no big deal." She cleared her throat. "Did that loads of time at the ballet studio. Me, and several others." That was a lie, she'd never fallen that hard before. "Let's just go back to the movie..."

Danny nodded and finally stopped clinging to his sister. She went to stand up, but almost fell again when her right arm didn't move to support her weight. "Oh, I don't think arms are supposed to bend like that..." Bonzai muttered, and Stacy felt her heart stop when she looked to see what he meant.

The arm was twisted at the elbow, and when Stacy tried to move it there was instead a sickeningly grinding sound as it stayed still. She could still move the hand, however, but that was useless with the rest of her arm unusable.

"... Mary's going to kill me." She whispered. panic rising. They did not have the money for this. At all. She tried again to move the joint, but found it just as stuck as it was a few seconds ago.

She had no idea what to do. Should she try and wench it back into place? Leave it and hope Mary didn't notice? No that was insane, she couldn't go without the use of one arm for the next three months. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the wrist and prepared to pull.

"Wait!" Canon grabbed her hand. "You shouldn't do that! You could break it more."

"Well what's your suggestion, then? Because if Mary or Dad find out about this, I am so dead!" She hissed out, casting a glance at Danny. Luckily, he didn't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.

"Well... " She hesitated briefly, swallowing down the apprehension of the suggestion. "Riley's good at this sort of thing-"

"No." The reply was harsh and quick.

"Stacy, you have to." The blue haired Puppet pointed at her mangled elbow. "You can't fix that by yourself."

"Watch me." She attempted to tug, and was rewarded with nothing. The next few pulls were met with the same, and she realized with dawning horror that she had to tell someone. Canon sighed again as she realized what was happening.

"Stacy, we are going to Riley. Right now."

"No, I can fi-OWOWOWOW! Stop that!" She grabbed at the Puppet now on her head, pulling her hair. Canon dodged her weak attempts, leaning down into her view.

"You will go to Riley or I will go get Riley." She told the girl, who glared back, but even she knew she was defeated.

"Fine." She ground out, standing up. Danny stood with her, the other Puppets gathered in his arms. Except for Scout, who Jumped onto Stacy's shoulder with Canon.

"It's okay." The younger Puppet tried to quietly assure her as the group made the trip to Riley's room. "Riley's really nice, I promise."

Stacy ignored her, left hand digging into her sleeve as she approached the door to her possible doom. She stopped just before the door, in a moment that went on forever as she stared, unblinking, into space.

"Nope." She turned on her heel, fully intending on heading back to the playroom, but a loud thunk behind her made her stop. She turned just in time to see Scout sliding down the door, having launched herself at it. Stacy didn't even have time to murderously glare at the Puppet before it opened to reveal Riley in full lab gear, goggles down and mask up.

She pushed the goggles up, spotting Scout almost immediately. "I don't have the time to babysit. Tell me now, what is it?"

Scout didn't even hesitate before she pointed to Stacy. "Stacy broke her robot arm and needs help fixing it!" She informed the scientist. Riley looked up at the girl, who had angled away to try and hide her arm. It failed, though, as the Puppet could still see how obviously twisted it was.

"Hmm, I see." She turned and gestured. "Follow me." It took Stacy a second, but, reluctantly, she did as she was told. Only for Riley to suddenly pluck Canon from her head and hand her to Danny before shooing him and the Hand Puppets away. "Not you, I'm afraid. Why don't you go back and play. This is something we need to do alone, and we'll come get you when we're done." And then she closed the door, shutting them out.

Stacy watched this with no small amount of fear, wishing she could speak up to say "No, stop, I want them in here." She didn't, though, and instead stood silently as she'd always done. She jumped slightly when Riley cleared her throat, startled out of her thoughts.

"Off with the shirt so that I can take a look." The rhymes were getting looser, but Stacy wisely didn't point that out and instead took off her shirt, leaving her with just a plain pink tank top instead. She set it aside on the table and offered up her arm, which Riley grabbed to look at.

"Hmm, I see what happened, and it's an easy fix. Just come with and I'll, uh-" She had tried to lead Stacy to a work table, only for the arm to fall limply in her hands. Looking back, she saw the girl standing there almost too innocently, right arm now just a stump with a metal cap on it. "Clever." Was all Riley said about it, before heading to the work table.

Stacy followed, curious to how the Puppet would fix the arm. She kept her distance, but inched closer when she realized Riley wasn't paying attention to her. She may not like the Puppet, but she did want to see her fix the arm.

It was delicate work, however, as she'd twisted the elbow joint quite badly when she'd fell. It involved taking the arm apart at the elbow, so Riley could untwist everything. Gently, she pushed wires back where they belonged, making sure the joint itself wasn't cracked or shattered.

"Luckily, the damage isn't so great that I'm unable to repair." She told the girl. "But how this happened, you need to share."

"Hmm." A pause, because honestly it was kinda embarrassing. "... I was showing the others a dance and slipped..." She finally mumbled, twisting the hem of her tank top in her hand. "... Landed on the robot arm..." She was startled when Riley suddenly grabbed her stump, inspecting the area around the connector.

"Any damage to the flesh of your arm would be alarming." She told Stacy seriously as she examined it. "Lucky for you, there's no evidence of even a bruise forming."

"Okay..." She yanked her stump out of the Puppet's hands and rubbed at it to try and scrub the feeling of her rubbery gloves away. She wanted to scratch, but knew by now that would just cause her to bleed.

If Riley thought that was an odd reaction, she didn't give any indication of it and instead turned back to fixing up the prosthetic. This time, however, she talked as she worked, telling Stacy about the different parts she was working on and how they fit together. And she did it all in rhyme, which even Stacy had to admit was impressive, since she was coming up with all of it on the fly.

After some time, though, she finally finished and had put everything back together. She bent and unbent the elbow a few times to make sure things were working as intended, then presented it to Stacy. The girl grabbed it and, though she didn't explain it verbally, she did make sure Riley could see how she hooked it into the connector. It was fairly simple, but the Puppet still watched her do it with intense interest.

Pulling her long sleeved shirt back on, Stacy wondered how she could make it up to the scientist. Her eye caught the box of beakers, seemingly untouched since yesterday. She stared at it, mind turning over the consequences of each option before her. Taking a deep breath and willing her voice to be steady, she spoke up.

"I heard Nick talking about something yesterday." She was pleased with how casual she managed to sound, even as her heartbeat picked up.

"Oh?" Riley turned around, giving the girl her full attention and making her even more nervous. "What did he say?"

"He was talking about how he replaced the beakers you used on the show with ones made of sugar glass. As payback because you took his paint." She tried to keep from rambling.

Casting a suspicious look, Riley wheeled over and grabbed the box, taking out one of the beakers to inspect it against the light. Stacy could see it in her eyes when she realized she was telling the truth.

Expression turning briefly murderous before going blank, the Handeeman put the beaker back into the box and wheeled out of the room. Stacy following close behind, curious as to what she would do. Right outside, she found the others, and quickly indicated that they should all follow Riley, who was waiting for them in the elevator.

The ride down was tense and silent, everyone able to feel the anger radiating off of the scientist. Not even Bonzai tried to lighten the mood with a quick quip, too frightened of Riley's dark demeanor to even make the attempt.

Daniel suppressed a yawn as his pen lightly tapped against his notebook. Nick stood at the head of the table, trying to explain his changes to the script. Daniel was pretty sure he hadn't been thinking with those changes, considering he didn't seem to have an explanation for half of them.

He was pretty sure this meeting would end with all changes reverted. Just like every other time this had happened. Daniel was pretty sure Nick only made changes to be a nuisance and ruin everybody else's weekend. Still, he diligently took notes on the answers Nick did give, and hoped Mortimer would call the meeting done soon.

What neither he or anyone else knew, was that soon the meeting would be about something else entirely. Quietly, without anyone taking notice, the doorknob turned and the door was pushed open ever so slightly. A moment later, the door was slammed open, hitting against the wall hard enough to leave a dent.

"Nicholas Nack!" Riley shrieked as she burst into the room. "How dare you!" And then she threw one of the beakers at the artist, making everyone scream and yell. Beyond her, in the doorway, Stacy, Danny, and the Handpuppets could be seen, watching the whole thing go down.

"Riley!" Mortimer yelled as the humans dove beneath the table. That didn't stop her, as she began to chase Nick around the room, throwing the beakers at him.

"I'll show you to steal my stuff!" She shrieked as sugar glass broke against the walls. Daisy pulled one of the writers away as they barreled past, and she wondered just what was happening this time.

"How did you find out?!" He dodged another attempt, and the kids ducked back from the doorway as the beaker flew past and shattered against the wall. Danny was laughing, and the Hand Puppets were cheering Riley on, though they were all drowned out by the yelling inside the room. Stacy just watched, recalling a similar scene from her childhood.

When she was young, her mother liked to put on old tapes of Mortimer's Handeemen, and there was skit just like this, also featuring Riley and Nick. Back then the skit had really upset her, even with her mom assuring her it wasn't real and was just pretend. It hadn't helped and all subsequent viewings of the tape had them fast forwarding through the skit.

Watching Riley now, in the present, launch herself off of her stand and across the room at Nick, Stacy was pretty sure they weren't pretending now. Luckily, she was saved from trying to figure out what to do when Daisy finally spotted them and rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"I'll bet you kids are hungry!" She said with fake cheer. "Why don't we go on down to the cafeteria, and I'll get you kids something to eat."

"But I wanna watch Riley kill Nick!" Bit protested, even as Daisy and Stacy worked to herd them away.

"Nope! Y'all don't get to see that today!" She hurried them along. "But don't worry, they'll be fine. This just... it happens sometimes. Don't worry." She gave a soft sigh, and Stacy felt the guilt of what she started build in her stomach.

'Better now than later I guess.' She tried to reassure herself. 'At least nobody knows that I helped with the prank. Except for Nick and Danny. I hope they don't tell anyone.'

#hello puppets #fanfiction #happy times at handeemen hq #htahhq #stacy stein #rily ruckus #nick nack #daisy danger #scout #danny stein #canon #bit #stitch #bonzai

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papermoonloveslucy · 4 years ago

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LUCY vs TIME

June 22, 1973

The publicity photos, from the movie set of Mame were unrecognizable. Unrecognizable! Why, they were unbelievable. Either somebody had shot them through six layers of soft-focus gauze - or a time machine.

Who was this frisky redhead hoofer kicking up her heels on the distant reaches of some resplendent soundstage, cannily avoiding a camera close-up?

Who was this svelte eyed lady fluttering from beneath a fringed rug of false lashes, not a wrinkle, sag or bag, not to mention even an expression line, sporting her famous face?

Well, clearly the lady was a star. And as star of Warner Brothers' new $8 million musical version of Mame, Lucille Ball had veto rights over all still photographs.

The trouble was that obviously nobody had had the nerve to tell her that if she could order reality rubbed out of a picture with a wave of the retoucher's brush, she couldn't pull the gauze over the eyes of an interviewer ushered into the Mame set to confront the living flesh, unretouched.

Time has not been unkind to Lucille Ball. No, beneath a billowing wine velvet and cream satin lounge suit, the svelte one-time chorus-girl's curves are still obvious. Despite a badly broken right leg from a skiing accident that had left the shooting of Mame stalled and the star in a cast for nearly a year, the shapely former showgirl's gams had now already carried her through a dozen dance routines up on top of pianos and down banisters that would have taxed a tap-dancer half her age.

At 61, Lucille Ball could pass for a dozen years younger. But only a dozen years.

The outrageous, outsize eyelashes now stick like pine spikes out of a swamp of tucks, puckers and bags etched around her shrewd big baby-blues. Her plastic face is a relief map of over-made-up wrinkles, the big bright red Cupid's-bow mouth lipsticked in a smile outside her own spidery upline.

But you don't survive 22 years on TV in the top ratings, get renewed once again this season when all about Bridgets and Bernies and Dean Martins (1) are falling to the network's chop, practically bear a baby and outlast a broken real-life marriage on the TV tube, take over a foundering corporation and build it into the single most powerful independent TV production house, without it showing in your face.

One look at Lucille Ball's face and you don't doubt it for a minute when Hal, her make-up man for 32 years, says she used to limp on to the Mame set in excruciating pain. Then, the minute the cameras clicked on, burst into a dazzling and seemingly effortless song-and-dance.

Not that the lady would admit it for a minute. "It was excruciating pain," she dismisses the subject airily.

But then these days she's not admitting much. It was a lesson learned the hard way. One recent fateful February day, over perhaps one too many Pouilly-Fuisses on the rocks, she was admitting so much so freely to the New York Times that the story read like a Hedda Hopper monologue.

On Desi Arnaz Sr., the Cuban bongo (2) player-bandleader she met and married out of a chorus line in 1940 and divorced 22 years later after a marriage that was even stormier off -screen than on: "He drank too much and he couldn't stand success."

On Desi Arnaz Jr., their 20-year-old son and his much-publicized romance with actress Patty Duke: "I had my doubts if the baby was Desi's at all. I said to him, "You feel responsible? Boy, you're all of 16 1/2 years old and you want to spend the rest of your life with this neurotic person?'"

On Liza Minnelli, then Desi's current fiancée: "They took her for over a million and a quarter more than her mother's debt. Just for beginners..."

One mention of the story now is enough to send sparks flying. "Why, that man should be..." she sputters over the reporter, "...spanked!"

It's a first burst of spontaneity from a lady who, once burned, is now so careful that she sounds at times as if he's dictating to the Library of Congress.

"I never thought I'd get this far, do so much, have such beautiful children," she says, chain-smoking in her dressing-room, all the wide-eyed telephone lineman's daughter from upstate New York. She knocks on wood.

"All I ever wanted was to get to vaudeville and I never made it."

When she hit New York to take acting classes at 16, the school sent back her mother's money, saying. "No talent." And now, refund in hand, 81-year-old DeeDee Ball, as the whole family calls her, sits in a front-row seat for every “Here's Lucy” show, just as she has done non-stop for the last 22 years.

Still it wasn't till 1951, when the Amazes dreamed up the “I Love Lucy” show, patterned after their own lives, as a way of keeping their marriage together and bandleader Desi home from the road, that success came.

But when it came, it was she who stole the show.

By two years later, 68 per cent of TV viewers in America were tuned in to see her show-by-show birth to Desi Arnaz Jr., whose arrival vied with the U.S. presidential election results for front-page space under the headline, "Lucy's $50 million baby."

Everybody, it seemed, loved Lucy except perhaps Desi Arnaz. Despite her insistence that "the series was happy there was no fighting. It was the greatest time of my life," she admits, "the trouble came much later. Only the last five years were hard."

Which means that the greatest time of her life lasted only a scant six years. When their marriage broke up officially in 1962 (3), friends introduced her to a stand-up comic named Gary Morton, now her producer, vice-president of Lucille Ball Productions, Inc., official show warm-up man and for 11 years now, Mr. Lucille Ball.

As her daughter Lucie, 22, and still a performer on the show, puts it. "She may be the king of stage 12, but at home she's queen Gary's the king!"

She indulges his passion for golf and a garage full of classic cars, but with the warning: "If he ever looks at another woman, I'll kill him."

She says she never makes a business move without him, but when she was left to head up the giant Desilu Corporation after her marriage break-up, it was she who was known as the woman shrewd enough to snap up “Mannix”, “Mission Impossible” and “Star Trek” when they were apparently doomed pilots, a comedienne who was not so comical in the executive suite.

But as for her much-vaunted business acumen, she is all denials and femininity.

"Me? No way. Desi did the whole thing. He was a fantastic businessman. I only took it over to build it up and sell it. I mean, there was a certain amount of building up to do."

When she took it over from Arnaz in 1961, Desilu had lost over $600,000. When she sold it seven years later, for $17 million in Gulf and Western stock, making her the conglomerate's largest stockholder and, some say, the wealthiest woman in Hollywood, the company had grossed $30-million and made a profit of ever $800,000.

"But everyone in the know knew I wasn't tough," she says. "No, the men I surrounded myself with were."

Still there a flinty glint behind the false lashes, a shrewd imperious purse to the painted lips, a ring to the wise-cracking whisky voice that's used to being heard. She moves around the Mame soundstage in queenly command, dispensing Norman Vincent Peal-doms, part star, part super-mother.

When it comes time for a scene featuring co-star Bea Arthur, she practically takes over directing from Gene Saks, Miss Arthur's husband. "Now did you tell her what side of the camera to be on?" she asks Saks, who looks like he might explode. "Now honey, toe your mark," she fusses over Bea, who grows quiet, explaining later:

"Lucy's really a dear. But sometimes it can get a little overpowering."

She doesn't talk to people without picking lint off their clothes, and straightening their collars, a habit that comes naturally enough to a woman who has her whole retinue, hairdresser, secretary, make-up man and driver of the last two decades - even her little picket-fenced French-provincial dressing-room trailer, with its false shutters and plastic ivy - picked up and transplanted wherever she strays from Lucy Lane where she presides at Universal Studios, year after year.

With her kids, she was, as daughter Lucie says, "Strict - and you want to believe it. We were the only kids we knew who had to work around the house for whatever money we'd get." Lucie still gets paid only scale for her mother's show.

But Desi Jr. wasn't exactly a natural. "He'd be asleep on the sidelines and I'd be ready to smack him," Lucy says, "When he said he was interested in serious acting, I said, 'Oh, really?' But he got out and worked. He surprised me. He surprised everybody. He even surprised himself."

Still, for all her talk about the joys of getting away to her Colorado ski lodge where she does "the cooking, the washing, the socks, the things I miss - not to mention the leg breaking - there's not much chance that Lucille Ball is going to be sitting the next round out, wallowing in domesticity, In the old rocking chair.

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a 1972 sitcom about a mixed marriage between a Jewish man and a Catholic woman. Like Lucy and Desi, stars Meredith Baxter and David Birney were also married in real life. Despite excellent ratings (it was the highest-rated new show of the 1972-73 season) the show was cancelled after only one season. The official reason for its cancellation was that it was scheduled between two mega-hits, “All in the Family” and “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, and its ratings weren't strong enough considering its choice position in the line-up.

Also, that same season, the long-running “The Dean Martin Show” (1965-1974) was cancelled. Lucille Ball had made three appearances on the show, and he also appeared on hers.

(2) Conga drums, not bongos. It is slightly dismissive to call Desi Arnaz a bongo player.

(3) The editor makes the error of assuming that Lucy divorced Desi and Married Gary Morton the same year. She divorced Desi in April 1960, and married Gary in November 1961, a year and a half later.

This article was published in the Leisure section of The Vancouver (BC) Sun on June 22, 1973. The article was written by Marci McDonald and illustrated by David Annesley.

#Lucille Ball #Mame #Vancouver Sun #Marci McDonald #David Annesley #Bridget Loves Bernie

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pettyprocrastination · 5 years ago

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Neat Shoes Spencer Reid x Goth!POC!Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Goth!POC!Reader

Summary: Spencer’s girlfriend has some fun choices in footwear, which he lets slip to the group technical analysis and his dear friend, Penelope Garcia.

Second fic in the Series The Genius and The Goth.

Read the first one here!

“You know those are my favorites.”

You looked up from the shoes in your closet with a grin. “Oh believe me baby, I know.”

Your style was loud, confident, and breathtaking. Reid had never seen you in an outfit that didn't get his heart racing. But your shoes? Your shoes were always the pièce de résistance.

Thick heels, shining silver clasps and a satisfying heavy thunk with each step. But the pair you had on now was his #1 favorite.

You had them on when you first met him. Black leather shoes with a thick three-inch thick clear platform wedge on the bottom. The best part was-

“Which ones shall we go with today?” You asked him, painted nails skimming over a jar of toy dinosaurs to the one filled with fake spiders.

The charms.

Sure enough, those funky kicks had a neat little feature of a tiny slip on the bottom. This allowed you to pop open the bottom of the heel like a little secret door and fill the clear wedge with charms; different ones each day. Dice, toy soldiers, fake bugs, you name it.

When you first met, they were filled with dungeons & dragons dice.

Spencer looked over your shoulder as the jars, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. He swayed in place, arms wrapped around you in a silent dance of the morning.

He hummed, eyes scanning the jars and smiling into your skin. “I don’t know about you, but it feels like a dice type of day to me.”

“D&D dice or regular dice?”

“D&D.” Spencer nipped at your neck and you laughed.

“Feeling mystical are we?”

You grabbed the jar, unscrewing the lid. Spencer took your shoe in his hand, slipping the bottom open so you could pour the colored dice in.

Once the shoes were full, You’d stand up and slip them on, holding Spencer's hand for balance as you did.

You laughed when he crouched down and began to tie the laces.“You know you don’t have to do all this, right Spence? I’m a big girl and can tie my own laces.”

The way he would look up at you with a tiny chuckle and that earnest look made your knees knock together.

“I know.” He said as he finished tying the bunny ears. “I just like helping you.”

When Spencer stood, he smiled at the difference. He always did. With the shoes on you were three inches taller than before, which made you tall enough to kiss his check without having to reach up or tug him down.

“Come back home?”

You always said that. Never ‘i’ll see you tonight.’ or ‘Be home soon.’ You knew his job was dangerous, and that he could be gone for days or weeks on a case only to be called back again in the morning. He knew you worried, and you knew he felt guilty for it. So you made sure never to make any promises he couldn’t keep. Even now, with crutches and confined to helping from Garcia’s side through the phone, you still worried.

“Of course I will.”

“You're my bitch now.”

Morgan laughed at Garcia’s playfully sultry words spoken to the incapacitated doctor. Two cases ago, when defending a metropolitan surgeon from the vengeful father of a child he didn’t save, Reid had gotten shot in the leg. Nothing major was hit, but he was put on crutches for a few weeks and Hotch has insisted that he stayed at the Bau center at least for the next three cases so he could “regain his footing” after he lied about being cleared to fly.

The irony of his wording was not lost on him.

But Spencer couldn't complain that much. He loved Penelope to bits, she was family just like the others. There were certainly worse people to spend his day seated with. He could still do his job effectively from her “Command Center of Coolness” as she called it.

He was working on the geological profile when he heard an all to familiar rattle coming from Garcia. She sat in her chair, typing away on her computer while also bouncing her leg at maximum hyperspeed. Which in turn shook her foot, rattling the charms bounding around in her shoe with every jiggle.

Her shoes. They were the exact ones you wore, except where yours were black, Garcia’s pair was a pretty pale pink.

“Neat shoes.” His voice was distant as he spoke, his mind already off the profile and focusing on the woman he left this morning wearing similar footwear.

Garcia grinned and stuck her feet out with a delightful wiggle from left to right. “Thanks! I got them for eighty bucks! Which may not sound cheap but for these babies? An absolute steal!”

Spencer smiled and turned back toward the map he had been marking. “Oh believe me I know, my girlfriend has a pair just like those.”

Garcia froze, smile turning into an open gasp. “What!?” Spencer didn’t notice her shock, already hyper-focused back into working out the geological profile for Hotch, but he continued to speak without realizing what he just said.

“Yeah. Although yours are pink and the pair she owns are blaaaa..” Spencer's voice trailed off as his body went rigid and it hit him what he had just said.

His girlfriend.

He had just told Penelope Garcia that he was dating somebody.

“Your WHAT!”

Her shrill shriek bounced off the walls of her tiny room of screens, effectively trapping spencer both physically and mentally.

“I just meant-”

“You're dating somebody!”

“What?” Spencer's voice went an octave higher. “No, I’m not!” Garcia scoffed and raised her brows.

“Then why did you say you have a girlfriend?”

Reid let out a nervous laugh. “Well, that’s a very good question! You see I-”

The phone began to ring, causing Spencer to jump up from his seat to answer.

“HiHotchSpencerHereWaddyaNeed!”

Hotch pulled the phone away from his ear, cringing at the loud and panicked tone Reid shouted in. “Is everything okay over there Reid?”

“Actually-”

The doctor slapped his hand over Garcia’s mouth before she could say more. “Yup everything is great Hotch! What’s up?”

“Well, I-” He looked towards the others, who merely shrugged and offered confused faces. “Garcia I need a list of all the tattoo artists in town and those of which have done prison time for acts of animal cruelty.”

Spencer looked toward Garcia, hand still clamped over her mouth.

“Garcia??”

“Please don't say anything to them.” He whispered. “I’m not ready to tell them yet but I will be. Please let me be the one to tell them.”

After a moment of pondering, the tech analyst nodded, Reid let out a breath of relief and let go of her.

“Garcia are you alright?”

Garcia snatched the phone from Spencer’s hands, causing him to jump. “Nothing wrong here bossman! I’ll be sending that list towards you faster than you can say PETA.”

“Thank you.”

Garcia began to type away at her computer, searching through the prison database for the information Hotch needed.

“Thank you for keeping quiet about this Penelope. I uh-” Spencer offered her a nervous smile. “-I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t sweat it boy wonder, but don’t you think it’ll be kind of hard to keep it quiet? “ Her eyes stayed on the monitor in front of her as she spoke. “I mean, you spend your day surrounded by profilers, they’ll figure out sooner or later.”

Spencer’s hands wrung the phone receiver nervously. That was a topic he had brought up to you. He insisted that it wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, it was just that-

“My friends can be a little overbearing is all.” You took a bite out of your slice of pizza and shrugged. It had been date night when he brought the conversation up. The two of you decided to stay in for the night and watch movies instead of going out. “I don’t want them to be overly judgmental or suffocating on you.”

“Spence, they're your family.” You corrected, wiping your hands on your napkin before moving to take his hands in your own. “I’d expect them to be protective over you. But I'll be happy to meet them whenever you're ready for it.”

Spencer smiled, relaxing into your lap. “Thank you, really.”

“It’s no problem brainiac. Now quit moping during Lord of The Rings.”

“I just want to be able to tell them on my own accord.” He said. Penelope noticed the soft smile on his face and nudged his foot with her own.

“Well if she has shoes like these, she’s alright in my book.” She joked. “It’s clear she must have good tastes. But I already knew that since she’s dating you, handsome.”

Spencer laughed. “Yeah uh, thanks Garcia. For understanding, really.”

She pointed her pen at him, the fluffy ball on top wobbling as she did. “No problem sugar, but don’t you think this means I’m letting you off the hook, doctor. Believe me when I say I’ll be doing a background check on this mystery girl.”

Spencer chuckled and nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah I know Garcia, don’t think I could even stop you if I tried.”

“Oh, you couldn’t.” She laughed. “I’m like a shadow, baby! A tech shadow that lurked in binary code and-” She froze, looking at the receiver then back to the handset Spencer still held in his left hand. “-oh damn.”

“What?” He jumped forward, eyes scanning her computer screen for whatever it was that frightened her. “What’s wrong.”

“Uh, Spence?”

“Yeah?”

She raised a finger, pointing to the still red light on the receiver of the phone. “You uh, you never hung up the phone sweetie.”

Spencer looked down at the phone in his hands, the sudden dooming realization that not only had he poured his heart out to Penelope, but also to his entire team. In a panic, he slammed the handset down into the receiver.

Hotch looked towards the others in the room, most of which sported looks of shock to big grins. “Nobody mention this until the case is over, you hear me? We need everybody to remain focused.”

“Yes, sir.”Prentiss laughed as she and Morgan went off to interview a suspect. Morgan saluted their unit chief with a grin. “Of course, we’re professionals after all.”

JJ looked up from her file with an exasperated smile. “You guys are going to call him as soon as the case is over, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Without a doubt.”

Authors Note: Another one for the Goth!gf gang!!! Anyways this is another fic in the series and I intend to do more! So far it may just be oneshots that sort of play off eachother so if you want to send me requests for this or headcanons to go off of or anything PLEASE DO! I love hearing from your guys and yall are my inspiration so uuhhh do that. Anyways, my semester is almost over thank GOD. Hopefully then I’ll be able to relax a bit before my summer classes start up. Love you all and hope youre staying safe and healthy in this tough times, much love and serotinin to you all!!<3

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer x goth!gf #The Genius and The Goth

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smolbeanieee · 4 years ago

Text

Once Upon a Time | One

strangers to lovers au

pairing: Younghyun x fem!oc

genre: fluff, angst

masterlist

10 minutes into the lecture, the door swiftly open—revealing the male catching his own breath as if he run for his dear life for the Art and History class today.

“You're late Younghyun-ssi” said Professor Lee, stopping his lecture as he saw Younghyun steps into the classroom.

“I'm so sorry, I woke late this morning”

“Fine, I cut you some slack since new semester just begin but you need to be punctual next time. Now go find your seat”

“Yes sir” Younghyun replied softly as he makes his way to find his own seat amidst the almost occupied classroom.

Along his way, Younghyun's attention divert to a chic looking girl who looking uninterested in the lecture as she looking out of the window—her hair falls perfectly on her shoulder as her lips release a soft sighs.

‘She looks familiar’ Younghyun thought as he sat one table apart behind her.

The class continued for another half an hour with Professor Lee explaining the whole assessment for the subject and whatever things that seems unbothered to to the students in the class until the lecturer announced the highlight of the assessment.

“Your field study will be in pairs and I will decide the pair. Raise your hand when your name called” Upon hearing the news, the students groans in disbelief.

“Yoon Dahee?” Professor Lee called.

“Me” The girl Younghyun been eyeing raises her hand-gaining Younghyun’s attention as he took a quick glances over her silhouette.

“Your partner is Kang Younghyun” Professor Lee said as he continue calling out for others pair.

Dahee softly curse under her breath—the last things she would do is getting involved with the bassist.

Upon hearing her name, Younghyun gets more curious.

After the class, Dahee walk out from the class—leaving everyone in the classroom. Younghyun's eyes notice her absence and quickly search for her in the hallway and catch her up.

“Hey, hey” said Younghyun as he abruptly stop infront of Dahee as she stop her track in process and arches her eyebrow in confusion

“About the project...the pair things..?” Younghyun trailed over his words

“Yeah about that,,,we should change partner. I'll talk to our lecturer soon so you don't have to worr-” Dahee's word were cut short when he decides to interrupt.

“Wait,,what? I didn't meant that” Younghyun chuckles upon hearing her words—making Dahee gives him confused look

“Then what do you want?” Dahee bluntly asked,,already feeling stupid in front of the bassist

“Shouldn’t we discuss about the project? I know the due date is the end of the semester but the faster we work on it, isn't the better?” He said as Dahee trying to process his words in her tiny brain.

Younghyun is right. The faster they complete the project, the better. Dahee didn't want to invest most of her time with Younghyun anyway—that's the last thing would she do on the earth. It's took Dahee few moments before nodding her head in agreement

“Great! We should go to the cafe nearby. They served the best coff-”

“We'll just discuss at the library” said Dahee emotionless as she leaves Younghyun behind clueless which she didn't even care to wait up for him.

While at the back, Younghyun shakes his head in disbelief—watching her walked away and lost in the sea of people.

“Ha,,this girl” he mumbles, taking light steps following her to the library.

After finished discussing about when and where should they go for the field study for Art and History subject—Dahee packed her things up, ready to leave the library as Younghyun spoke “Have we met before?” asked him

His question makes Dahee stopped in a moment, biting her lower lips anxiously

“N-no. It's my first time meeting you”

“But why do I feel I have met you before this?” Younghyun mumbles as he tilting his head in confusion—his mind squeezing really hard all information that he may have about Dahee but nothing comes up “Anyway, do you wanna grab something to eat? The bakery down ther-”

Dahee stopped him from talking. Hearing Younghyun asking her spending time with him totally annoyed her because she trying not to have any relation or attachment to him—especially to his band but this boy doesn't how to stop.

“Younghyun-ssi, I really appreciate it but I'm sorry, I have to go now.” Dahee spat, packing up her leftover notes and books on the table.

“Okay, maybe next time. I'll see you around?” asked him as he watch Dahee slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave the table

“Who knows” replied Dahee as she turns her heels from the male and walked her way out from the library—leaving Younghyun behind as he became more curious about herself.

‘I swear I have seen her some where else’ thought Younghyun

—————

“I'm doomed” said Dahee, throwing herself on the comfy bed, ignoring how the male will nag at her on how she shouldn't mess with his bed

“What? Did someone died from your intense glare today?” the male teased, without looking at her as if he already knew Dahee would come to his house almost everyday even though her house is just four level higher than him.

“Funny” said Dahee, making Taeyong lets out chuckles from his lips.

Lee Taeyong, her friend since she was in junior high school. He was there when she is at the lowest, when all the horrible things happened, Taeyong was there—he knew all her secret, her flaws, her allergies and maybe, her morning routine too. Dahee is so thankful having Taeyong by her side—something she won't trade for anything.

“Aww come on, everybody could tell how cold ice princess you are” Taeyong jokingly said as he continues paint his newly shoes with the colorful markers and highlighter spread across his table

Dahee groans in response, staring right at the ceiling before she continues her words. “I'm in the same class with Younghyun” Dahee said, trailing her words as if trying to looks up for more suitable words to put up for the situation “He said he knew me”

“Really? Did he mention about your brot-”

Dahee quickly stop him “No he didn't. He just generally mentioned that he saw me before this” totally ignoring and not bothered hearing Taeyong finish his sentences.

Taeyong sensed the tension from Dahee as he let out a soft sighs, turning around in his chair towards the bed “Then, what's the problem? He just your classmate for the subject, right? Not he’s going to stuck with you in every class” He asked, arching his eyesbrow as if asking for explanation.

“It's just...he's my partner for my final project and that means I have spend more time with him. You know I don't want to associate myself the bassist, especially with the band. I tried so hard all these years keeping my distance from them. You know it.” Dahee softly sighs, frowning her face to the male

“Hey listen here. You said he didn't mention anyone. So maybe it's just his gut telling you resemble someone, who knows—like there is lot of people out there looking alike with each other. Don't worry much about the project. Spending too much time with him won't bring harm anyway unless you got feelings for him” Taeyong said as he lets out hearty giggles as if teasing her

“Taeyong!” Dahee shouts as she throws pillows towards him but he skillfully catch them in his hands.

“No really, trust me—every things will be fine. Younghyun won't know anything about your past unless he told him about your family background but I believe he won't because he is not much a talker, right?” Taeyong said as she nods in response, lips forming pout as she softly mumbles a yes to him, adjusting herself on the bed as she getting ready to leave his house after having a little rant or more to tantrum just now

As Taeyong sense the awkward atmosphere in his room, he changes the the topic before she leaves.

“Oh right, just to let you know, your dad is retiring soon so he might want you back to the company” Taeyong said as he made his way to his table, cleaning up the mess he made before without looking back at Dahee who stopped her track in front of the door.

Taeyong has been working with Dahee's dad since he graduated high school and immediately become his right man and one the major share holders in the company because their parents knew each other—his bonus point. All this while, Taeyong has became her informal informant about her family, even she told him she don't want to hear any of that but he insist.

Ever since Dahee distance herself from her dad—Taeyong has become their middle person as she didn't told her dad about her whereabouts since the incident. Taeyong kept his promise not to told even her dad keep on bugging him about that which Dahee thankful for Taeyong for keeping his promise.

Upon hearing the news, Dahee scoffed “So, what's does that involves with me?” she asked, turning her attention to Taeyong who been giving her judging looks as if he didn't believed his ears just now

“Last time I checked, my surname isn't Yoon, it's Lee”

“Taeyong, I told you many times I don't want to involved with his business anymore. Can't you just be the chairman instead? He fully trusted you all this time when you’re working with him. I don’t see any problem with you become the chairman.” she sternly explained herself in annoyance.

“Are you crazy? Your dad still has his heirs so why should I take the position?” Taeyong complaint while Dahee just runs her fingers softly through her hair, licking her lips as her puffs with sighs

“I have university to attend so yeah you know the answer,,,see you later!” Dahee said as she sprint her way out to the door, leaving the male speechless

“I'll take that as a maybe!” Taeyong shouts before he heard the front door being closed loudly, making he chuckles in disbelief “Yoon Dahee, until when you wanna be like this? Why you being so hard to yourself. This isn't you, you know it.” Taeyong mumbles, reminiscing her old self.

Before the incident happened.

Back to loud apartment—that consists of 5 loud men.

“I'm home!” Younghyun shouts, taking off his shoes as he shuts the front door and makes his way to the living room just to find the maknaes fights over the television while the oldest strumming his guitars calmly on the couch.

“Oh, you're back” Jae greets as he scoots over, giving space to Younghyun—letting his head falls on the couch, relaxing his mind from the exhaustion, dropping his bag on the floor.

“Did something happened at the university?” asked Jae without looking at Younghyun next to him

“Nothing special, I'm just tired adjusting the class schedule and ours”

“Hang in there. It's your last semester before you graduate anyway” Jae said as if trying to encourage him.

Younghyun mumbles a soft thanks before letting his mind drifts in dreamland while waiting for Sungjin to set up the dinner before something come up in his mind.

“Ah right! Do we have any busking or club performance by the end of this month or early next month?” asked Younghyun as he jolted from his seat, eyeing Jae but he just shrugged his shoulders

His question catch Wonpil's attention as he furrowed his eyebrows—thinking hard as ever “As I remember,,,we don't have any performance coming up soon. Am I right Sungjin hyung?” asked Wonpil, throwing the question to the leader as he peek his head from the kitchen.

“Yeah right! We just gonna do busking performance once in a month since you have started your class.” explained Sungjin, placing the bowl rice for each of the boys on the table before disappear into the kitchen again

“Hyung, why you suddenly asked? Is there something ...?” Wonpil trails his words, waiting for Younghyun to respond

“Ah nothing. I need to go for field study or something like that for my subject because the professor being the pain in the ass and also the date isn't fixed yet,,,yeah that's why I'm just asking” explained Younghyun as the boys nodded in response as he getting his bag from the floor, making his way to his bedroom but the leader's words stopped his track.

“Guys, let's eat! Dinner's ready!”

Upon hearing that, all the boys swarms the dining table, ready to fulfill their empty stomach.

previous | next

#day6 imagines #day6 fluff #day6 angst #day6 young k #day6 fics #day6 reactions #day6 series #day6 scenarios #day6 au #young k fluff #young k angst #young k imagines

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kpopfic-recs · 5 years ago

Text

♡ bts ships masterlist♡

Note: If you are unable to view the formatting on the mobile app, switch to reading on your mobile browser

(Last update 4/27/20)

Key: Fluff (❀) Angst (☆) Smut (☾) Completed Series (✓) Incomplete Series (✗)

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Jikook

↳ One Shots

And Back Again by novilunar II ☆ ☾

Summary: Jimin wishes he could stay away from Jungkook. (FWB!AU)

Length of story: 3.1k words

Warnings: None

The Good Doctor by snarcsics II ☾

Summary: Jungkook’s your basic sex addict. Troubled, distant, angry, and somewhat cocky, however Jimin suspects that was there long before Jungkook became an addict.

Length of story: 11.4k words

Warnings: Sex addiction

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Taekook

↳ Series

cause when you look like that, never ever wanted to be so bad by centurystorm II ☾ ✓

Summary: The TA for Jungkook’s chemistry class is fine as hell but no way is that why he enjoys chem class. (Lies, all lies). AKA the “oh no you spilled a chemical and now you have to use the emergency lab shower” AU. (College!AU)

Length of story: 2 parts/11.4k words

Warnings: Top!Jungkook, bottom!Taehyung, oral sex, blowjobs, semi public sex, spanking, dirty talk, anal sex, anal fingering, come eating

flowers love the sun by bootaeful II ❀ ☆ ☾ ✓

Summary: Taehyung, a beautiful mortal, had caught the eye of Jungkook, a god. Based on the Greek myth of Apollo and his mortal lover Hyacinthus.

Length of story: 2 parts/12.2k words

Warnings: Blood, death

Preach by bruhnam299 II ☆ ☾ ✓

Summary: It had been of their kingdom’s tradition to have a young lad or lass selected for the princes of the kingdom, for purposes justifiable by the princes themselves. They say that upon selection, you live a life of royalty just as the kings and queens do. Taehyung does not believe this; he knows that his life will be one of a sex slave if he were ever to be selected.

Length of story: 3 parts/12.9k words

Warnings: Top!Jungkook, bottom!Taehyung, dom/sub, anal sex, oral sex

Not My Delivery by winter_taebum II ❀ ☾ ✓

Summary: In which Jungkook believed that the person ringing his doorbell was his best friend Jimin along with the pet cat that he was 'supposed' to adopt. Jungkook was never really a 'cat' kind of person but he was willing to have a go at looking after a new furry playmate. Besides, whether it be cats or dogs, he was an animal lover in general. That being said, what shows up in front of his front door instead was neither of that but a beautiful man with breathtakingly sharp feline features and glowing skin instead..Jungkook stares blankly at the stranger in front of his door and what came next was jaw dropping. "Are you my master?" The beautiful male purrs.

Length of story: 3 parts/19.3k words

Warnings: Top!Jungkook, bottom!Taehyung, praise kink, barebacking, master/pet, anal sex, anal fingering, dry orgasm, orgasm delay/denial

↳ One Shots

You Make Me Ssstutter by hauntedaffair II ❀

Summary: “For here or to go?” Taehyung asked sweetly. “Yes.” Jeongguk blurted.…Fuck my life. Jeongguk could almost cry. Burn me in hellfire right now. Taehyung is a cute barista and Jeongguk experiences multiple mental breakdowns. (Coffee Shop!AU)

Length of story: 1.6k words

Warnings: None

Hate Me, Love Me (Everybody Wants to Kiss Me) by parmajeon II ☾

Summary: Jeon Jeongguk never wanted to kiss someone while knocking the living daylights out of them so badly before. (Or: jeongguk is stuck between saying 'fuck you' and 'fight me' and ends up saying 'fuck me' to taehyung in the middle of a fight). (High School!AU, Enemies to Lovers!AU)

Length of story: 2.7k words

Warnings: Slight smut

Love Is Easy by xsmallathenabug II ❀

Summary: Taehyung accidentally says “I love you” to the guy on the other line while ordering a pizza and gets a “Love you too” followed by a "I hope you’re not expecting a discount on the pizza just cause we confessed our undying love for each other.”

Length of story: 2.9k words

Warnings: None

Badabing-Badaboom (We Should Fall in Love Baby) by bruhnam299 II ❀

Summary: Taehyung is so utterly confused. Jimin is a gym enthusiast (who drags Taehyung to his doom). And Jungkook isn't following up on the latest dating etiquette on how to do feelings (or ask someone out). Like. At all. Yugyeom gets pulled into all of this shit (and remains disloyal 'till the end).

Length of story: 3.1k words

Warnings: Scent kink

Let Me Lie Tangent to Your Curves by parmajeon II ❀

Summary: Taehyung didn't think grocery shopping would be that eventful until he almost gets arrested and finds himself face-to-face with an angel. (Aka the au where Taehyung gets his hand stuck in a car window after trying to carry out a heist and its midnight and hes alone in the parking lot and shit shit shit the owner is approaching and he's super hot??)

Length of story: 3.1k words

Warnings: None

Hit Me Like a Tidal Wave by parmajeon II ❀

Summary: Taehyung is a lifeguard at a beach and Jeongguk is an innocent beach-goer. Cue Jeonguk almost drowning, Taehyung actually drowning, and what should have been mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Length of story: 3.4k words

Warnings: None

Take Me Home by puddlesofme II ❀ ☆

Summary: “It’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and I tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly I accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Length of story: 4k words

Warnings: None

Until the End of the World by parmajeon II ☆

Summary: Taehyung and Jeongguk are best friends, and that's all they'll ever be. (College!AU)

Length of story: 4.3k words

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Time’s Ticking by parmajeon II ❀ ☾

Summary: Jeongguk might have magic older than time itself, but Taehyung’s tongue works its own kind of magic. (or: the au where jeongguk is literally the fountain of youth and explorer Tae decides he's gotta suck his dick to reap the benefits). (College!AU)

Length of story: 5.2k words

Warnings: None

Date Me by flywithtaetae II ❀ ♡

Summary: Taehyung flirts with the cute high school boy and relishes in the flustered reaction he gets for almost an entire year. But when the following year comes along, he finds himself choking on his own words. (Coffee Shop!AU)

Length of story: 5.4k words

Warnings: None

Snow by gukvee, jeons_v II ❀

Summary: Taehyung is obsessed with snow filters and he bumps into Jeongguk in a grocery store with his face shoved into his mobile phone screen.

Length of story: 6.1k words

Warnings: None

Stuffed Drumsticks and Cotton Candy Kisses by parmajeon II ❀ ☾

Summary: Taehyung is really good at precision-based games and Jeongguk is really good at strength-based games. Together, they amass a terrifying number of prizes before being kicked out of the carnival.

Length of story: 6.5k words

Warnings: Slight smut

Snap Streak (author unknown) II ❀

Summary: "who dat qt boi on ur story?" Aka: in which Kim Taehyung discovers the love of his life on Park Jimin's snapchat story.

Length of story: 7k words

Warnings: Sexual content (not smut)

Melt in Your Mouth (Not in Your Hands) by mindheist II (+ Jimin) ☾

Summary: What happens at a rave stays at a rave—except this one.

Length of story: 7.4k words

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and drinking

The Dawn Before the Sun Rises by internetpistol II ❀

Summary: It all started when Kim Taehyung almost impaled Jeon Jungkook with a pink umbrella. (College!AU)

Length of story: 8.1k words

Warnings: Mentions of sex

We Only Have Red Bull to Thank by parmajeon II ❀ ☆ ☾

Summary: “But lately,” Taehyung’s mind flashes back to the instance where Jeongguk had literally brought them outside when Taehyung suggested they ‘go out.’ “It’s not the same anymore. We’re on two different wavelengths and it’s fucking weird considering most friendships like this are ruined after the two people date, not before one of them even gets to confess.” (Or: 5 times when Taehyung tries to confess and Jeongguk just doesn't get it + the 1 time he does)

Length of story: 8.6k words

Warnings: None

You’re My Type by dom_joonie II ❀

Summary: “Taehyung turns away from the commotion to look up at the blue sky, but before he can tilt his head all the way back a six-pack catches his eye and, of course, everything goes south from there.” In which Taehyung has a crush on the lifeguard of the local pool, and his thirst cannot be contained. Especially not when eye-candy like THAT is walking around.

Length of story: 8.7k words

Warnings: Drinking, sexual/suggestive content

Been There All Night by Bangtanbananas II ☆ ☾

Summary: Taehyung never planned to fall head over heels for Jeon Jungkook but it just sort of...happened. And he didn't realize the extent of his feelings until Park Jimin walked into their lives and ruined everything. Or the lawyer au where Taehyung gets jealous and becomes a petty bitch. (Office!AU, Lawyer!AU)

Length of story: 9.1k words

Warnings: Drinking

Jingle My Bells by parmajeon II ❀

Summary: When Jungkook met Taehyung on the Polar Express, he didn't expect to see him twelve years later on campus yelling, "Santa Watch Team! Please sign up!”

Length of story: 9.4k words

Warnings: None

Drink Up Baby (It’s Poison) (author unknown) II ❀

Summary: Love thy enemy or better yet, make them fall in love with you (Harry Potter!AU).

Length of story: 10.9k words

Warnings: Drinking

If You Love Me, Let Me Go by buttstrife II ☆ ☾

Summary: They’re alone in Jungkook’s bedroom. There’s a song playing faintly from the speakers of Jungkook’s phone. The lyrics go like this: Oh, my heart hurts so good. I love you, babe, so bad, so bad. Taehyung is his love, his best friend, his soulmate – Jungkook is sure of it. Taehyung is a famous actor/model, and Jungkook is one of many who fall for him.

Length of story: 11.5k words

Warnings: Drugs, mentions of drinking, major character death

Hercules by GinForInk II ❀ ☾

Summary: Taehyung forgets his strength kink until Jungkook picks him up during a group project meeting.

Length of story: 11.6k words

Warnings: Implied/referenced homophobia, light masochism

dating for dummies by sugasus II ❀

Summary: In which Twitter is evil, Jeon Jungkook is a bit tsundere, Park Jimin is satan and Kim Taehyung may or may not have a boyfriend.

Length of story: 12k words

Warnings: None

oh, for the love of god by florations II ❀ ☆

Summary: What could go wrong with falling in love with your best friend? Not a lot, to be honest. That happens to people all the time. But what if said best friend is the God of Love and you're the God of Death? Then a lot. A lot of things could go wrong. Or conversely: What the fuck, Jeon Jeongguk.

Length of story: 12.6k words

Warnings: None

maps to you by antiking II ❀

Summary: There is a dick on his face. There is a big, bold dick drawn onto his face in black permanent marker, and though Jungkook scrubs and scrubs and scrubs until his forehead is red, he only succeeds in smudging it around. He pumps a fistful of soap onto the towel and renews his efforts with twice the vigor. He has hagwon later today, and he’d rather step on Legos than go there like this. Maybe, he thinks, pausing for a second to examine the state of the dick, his parents will allow him to skip just this once. Does this count as a medical emergency? Jungkook isn’t sure, but his hands are shaky and the towel is shaky and he’s growing more panicked by the second because it won’t come off. He’s going to die. He’s going to die of public humiliation in front of everyone, and then he’s going to come back to life and kill his soulmate, because who the fuck draws a dick on their forehead knowing full well that it’ll show up on someone else, too? (Soulmate!AU, College!AU)

Length of story: 13.1k words

Warnings: Suggestive content

Let Me Hear You Scream by parmejeon II (+ Yoonmin) ❀

Summary: “We both rode as singles on this giant roller coaster and I didn’t realize how afraid of heights I really was and you don’t seem scared so please let me hold your hand for emotional support.”

Length of story: 13.1k words

Warnings: Suggestive content

you’re my earth (the center of my day) by taetastic II ❀ ☆ ☾

Summary: He likes watching the colors dance in Taehyung's wings when they catch on the light of the sunrise, and the golden glow of his fingers when he brushes them over flowers and plants. (Fantasy!AU, Werewolf!AU, Fairy!AU).

Length of story: 14.3k words

Warnings: Blood, violence, death

Get Me Out Of My Mind (Get You Out Of Those Clothes) by taekookmusings II ❀ ☆ ☾

Summary: Taehyung never thought he'd fall in love with his roommate. Then again, he never thought his roommate would have been a literal gift from god either. (College!AU)

Length of story: 15.8k words

Warnings: Drinking

Let My Body Do The Work by seikou II ☆ ☾

Summary: Seriously, this is agonizing. He didn’t ask for this. His goal isn’t this and yet he finds himself moving his arms to Jungkook’s prompting and misery really loves Taehyung’s company. Gym is frustrating. (College!AU)

Length of story: 17.2k words

Warnings: None

I was told there’d be cookies by mintsoda II ❀

Summary: “Taehyung, this is a very special present I have here,’ Namjoon holds it up for Taehyung to see and Taehyung blinks at it, bottom lip jutted out a little, 'I would like you to deliver it for me. Could you do that for me, Taehyungie?' 'Really? Me? It's my turn finally?' he asks a little too fast, taking the box out of Namjoon's hands to observe it carefully but with a pinch of curiosity. 'What's in there?' 'It's something very important, please be careful with it. It’s for a young man called Jeon Jungkook. It’s a special gift, something really, really precious, you see?" When Christmas elf Taehyung accompanies Santa to the human world on his first ever present shower – Santa forgets to take Taehyung back home with him. Luckily for him, his first present delivery is for aspiring baseball player Jeon Jungkook who, as he finds out, must have had a very peculiar Christmas wish: milk and Taehyung's favourite cookies. (Elf!AU)

Length of story: 18.1k words

Warnings: None

Toads and Periwinkle by Kavbj II ❀ ☾ ♡

Summary: Jungkook’s kinda cursed (like really cursed) and Taehyung’s kinda a witch (like really not a great one but he tries).

Length of story: 18.2k words

Warnings: None

Body Ache by lethallergic II ☆ ☾

Summary: If you listen closely, there are two boys connected so deeply their hearts beat as one. (Or the one where Taehyung desperately needs an accompanist and Jungkook appears to be his only option.) (

Length of story: 18.8k words

Warnings: Smoking

Here Fishy Fishy by Kavbj II ❀ ☆ ☾ ♡

Summary: Taehyung's a real fish out of water (no like, for real) and Jungkook just saved him from drowning. (College!AU, Merman!AU)

Length of story: 21.5k words

Warnings: None

Shark in the Water by mindheist II ❀ ♡

Summary: As far as fairy tales go, this one doesn’t have a lot of fairies. Tales, yes. Tails, that is. Just the one. One (1) tail.

Length of story: 30.6k words

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, suggestive content

Frooty Loopy (author unknown) II ❀ ☾ ♡

Summary: "We both reached for the last box of Froot Loops and I don't care that we're both adults I will fight you.” In which Taehyung fights Jungkook to the death for a box of artificially flavored and colored loops.

Length of story: 31k words

Warnings: Mentions of smoking/drugs, drinking

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Vmin

↳ One Shots

Friends Won’t Let Friends be Sexually Frustrated by staycute1234 II ☾

Summary: Jimin runs into Jungkook on the basketball courts, the younger male leaving him in a sexually frustrated mess. Thankfully his roommate, Taehyung, helps him out. (College!AU)

Length of story: 3k words

Warnings: None

In The Same Boat by pornographicpenguin II ☾

Summary: "You want to what?" "Dock," Jimin says. Taehyung blinks. "You mean like...with a boat?"

Length of story: 3.8k words

Warnings: Docking

call me (whenever you want me) by jhopeg II ❀ ☆ ☾

Summary: Jimin should’ve known that mixing alcohol with his feelings was never a good idea. Because he sure as hell didn’t need to accidentally call a guy (whose voice was incredibly hot) offering sex to him. Over the phone. (College!AU, FWB!AU).

Length of story: 23.3k words

Warnings: Drinking, top!tae, bottom!jimin

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Yoonmin

↳ One Shots

assembly required (author unknown) II ❀

Summary: "It's like 3am and I'm exhausted and I can hear you raging next door about failing to put together an Ikea bed so here I am helping you and holy shit you're cute.” (College!AU)

Length of story: 3.9k words

Warnings: None

Movie Night by sungmin II (+ Taehyung) ☾

Summary: "Maybe we could try messing with one of the other members." He can almost hear Jimin's ears perk up. "What do you mean? Like a prank?" "No," Yoongi says, "I mean like mess around with one of them. You know, fluster him. Make him sweat a little at the very least."

Length of story: 4.5k words

Warnings: None

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Taegi

↳ Series

Brownies? (author unknown) II ❀ ☾ ✓

Summary: There was an unspoken rule in the music industry, never accept food from fans. So it was no surprise to Min Yoongi when he saw Kim Taehyung happily accepting just that. Or: Taehyung eats poisoned food that gives him fox ears and a tail and Yoongi has a good time.

Length of story: 2 parts/16.9k words

Warnings: Fox hybrid!Taehyung, hand jobs, blow jobs, rimming, praise kink, top!Yoongi, bottom!Taehyung, hyung kink (slight), anal fingering, anal sex, cum play, butt plugs, cum swallowing, masturbation

↳ One Shots

First Time at the Rodeo by parmejeon II ❀

Summary: Yoongi doesn't like loud and obnoxious people. Or people at all, actually. Enter Kim Taehyung with wide pants and a smile that could rival the sun's.

Length of story: 1.3k words

Warnings: None

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Namkook

↳ Series

The Curse of Curves by snotboy II ☾ ✓

Summary: An explanation as to why Jungkook had a boner during the Billboard video.

Length of story: 2 parts/2.8k words

Warnings: None

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Vhope

↳ One Shots

Truth or Dare (Cause I double dare you) by 2kitsune II ☾

Summary: Hoseok and Taehyung are forced to kiss, again. “So, you want to do a friend with benefits kind of thing?” Hoseok asks. “No,” Taehyung starts, eyes firmly stuck on the single window they have in their room. “We’ll just be friends who occasionally kiss,” He pauses, and his gaze flicks back to Hoseok, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “If that’s okay with you.”

Length of story: 7.3k words

Warnings: None

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Namjin

↳ One Shots

Bet You Won’t by Iridescentpulse II ❀ ☾

Summary: Seokjin choked on the rice he was trying to eat, eyes wide and the tips of his ears burning. He turned his startled gaze toward Taehyung, who just sat grinning at his friend struggling to breathe. Jimin quickly handed him his own drink, and after a few gulps, his throat was clear, but his brain struggled to grasp what the younger man had just said - "I'm sorry, could you run that by me again?" “I dare you to take a selfie while having sex with Namjoon." Taehyung dares Seokjin to take a selfie while having sex with Namjoon, and the group chat ends up getting more than it bargained for. (College!AU)

Length of story: 2.9k words

Warnings: None

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Multiple Members

↳ One Shots

go all day, go all night (i’m a beast) by sungmin II (Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi & Hoseok) ☾

Summary: It’s safe to say that Jimin is a bit of an exhibitionist.

Length of story: 10.2k words

Warnings: Foursome, food kink, asphyxiation.

#bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut #jikook #taekook #vmin #yoonmin #namjin #vhope #namkook #taegi #jimin #taehyung #suga #yoongi #namjoon #rm #jin #seokjin #jungkook #jhope #hoseok

74 notes · View notes

winchester90210 · 5 years ago

Text

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x18: It’s Only A Test

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: The SATs, health emergencies, and way too many feelings.

Warnings: mentions of tumors and loss of a loved one, a little bit of angst, maybe a swear word somewhere. I think that’s it!

Word Count: 2,300 My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!) Feedback is incredibly appreciated! :)

A/N:Thanks for everyone’s patience! I had to take a little time off due to Shannen coming out about her cancer returning. It just felt weird to hear about that and then write a chapter about Brenda having a cancer scare. I just needed a little time to process it, but now I’m back and the next chapter (April is the Cruelest Month) is ACTUALLY going to come out next week! Very excited about that. Okay, okay, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! :) I’d usually link the song for the chapter but it’s not letting me for some reason. The song I would’ve linked is Opposites Attract by Paula Abdul if you still want to check it out! -

Seven days. Seven days! You have seven days to prepare for the SAT. Not six. Sure, you’ve been preparing for it practically your entire life but… a week? It’s like a sick joke or something.

You chew on the end of your pencil, bouncing your leg in a monotonous yet anxious fashion against the wooden desk in the newsroom. Staring down at the article in front of you, your heart pounds. It’s official. No one at this school knows how to use a comma and you can’t possibly fix everyone’s mistakes but you’re gonna die trying. How the hell does Andrea do this? And why did she think dropping all of her work on you right before the biggest test of your life was a good idea?

So you have to cover for her and prepare for the SATs all at the same time— not a big deal! It’s fine! You’d still have plenty of time to see your boyfriend, make sure you can get into a decent college, and see that the next issue of the Blaze gets out on time. Piece of cake! And hey, if you happen to make it out of all of this sane, that’s just a bonus.

“Y’know, I’ve wondered who’s been masticating all the pencils around here,” Brandon teases you as he struts over. You look up from the desk for the first time in half an hour to meet his glance.

“Masticating? Why— why use that word? You could’ve used chewed or chomped or a thousand other words. Masticating is totally unnecessary. Masticating is the kind of word that you learn on one of those super expensive, way too exclusive SAT prep courses.”

“What, like Alfred B. Cook?” He cocks an eyebrow up, pulling a stool from beside him to sit down next to you.

“‘Or you be fried,’” you quote exasperatedly, resting your head in your hand.

“Let me guess— Steve?”

“Bingo,” you sigh.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think those prep courses even work. The SATs are designed to test you on stuff you already know, you can’t cram for them.”

“That’s what I told Steve to begin with but… then again, maybe you can! I mean if there is some kind of system or something, then everyone else who can’t afford those stupid overpriced courses is put at a total disadvantage! And I- I can’t afford to be put at any kind of disadvantage, not with everything I have to do!“

“First off, Y/N/N, you’re the smartest person I know! Besides, it’s just a test. A test that you can take twice if you want to. Second… I think you need to cut back on the coffee because you’re about five seconds away from short-circuiting.” You roll your eyes at him for the coffee jab, but you know he’s right.

“Well, sure, it’s just a test— but it’s a test that’ll determine whether I end up at Stanford or San Quentin.”

“So, you know how we were all at Kelly’s studying for the SATs?” You nod in response, joining Brenda on the edge of her bed. Brenda crosses her arms over her chest, settling back into her bed. “Well, she was reading this magazine and it had this thing in it about… where y’know, you check your breasts for lumps.” She stirs in her spot, kicking her feet up onto the bed. “So—“ she inhales and her voice is low, solemn. “we all decided to do it. I don’t know why, I guess we were bored.” There’s something in the way that she starts gazing off, staring mindlessly into the corner of her bedroom that rubs you the wrong way. Something was off.

“Bren, that’s not something we have to worry about at our age.”

“Well, the article said that even people our age should get into the habit. So, we all did the test,” her words begin to waver as she speaks, “And I thought I felt something.” Her eyes well up, lower eyelids reddening against her tears that are threatening to break through. “So, I talked to my mom and we went to the doctor.”

No. No no no no no. There’s no way… but would she even be telling you about this if there was nothing to worry about? Your stomach lurches instinctively. Suddenly you didn’t feel so well.

“And?” The second she takes to respond feels like an hour as you await her response.

“It’s a tumor.” You shake your head, stammering.

“That—that— How is that possible? I mean, you’re only sixteen and—and—“ you stop yourself short to take a deep, thoughtful breath. “Bren…”

You don’t know what else there is to do besides pulling her into a hug. Her head sits on your shoulder and your hand is resting on her back. You sit like that for a moment, finding comfort in each other’s company. You’d never had a friend like her before. Sure, you’ve had friends, but nothing could hold a candle to what you have with her. It was nice, having someone you could talk about anything with, free of judgment, free of criticism. And the thought of losing that… losing her? As that starts to sink in, it terrifies you.

“We’re getting a biopsy on Saturday,” she whispers.

There’s a beat before you mumble, “At least you get to miss the SATS?”

“So, Steve, any glorious plans this evening?” You meet up with your friend on the way out of West Beverly.

“I was planning on studying. You know what they say— ‘Alfred B. Cook—‘“

“Or you be fried, yeah, I get it. Can I come?”

“Are you asking me for a date?” He flashes a mischievous grin, to which you scoff.

“Of course I am,“ you tease, “Nothing and I mean nothing gets me in the mood for romance like my boyfriend’s best friend and the impending doom of a standardized test.” Steve rolls his eyes, waiting for you to finish. “Look, of course I’m not asking you for a date. What I am asking you for is the Alfred B. Cook advantage. The notes, practice tests, secret government documents– whatever you’ve got.” You shoot him a pair of pleading eyes. "Hey, I’ve gotta go… see you at eight?” You start to slowly tread backward in the direction of your car as you talk.

You turn on your heel toward the parking lot as you hear him call out “It’s a date!”

“No it’s not!”

“Hey, turn it off— we’re supposed to be studying!” You plead loudly as he turns the radio on his nightstand up, pop music blaring so loud you’re surprised the furniture isn’t shaking.

“Come on, you love this song!”

“Steve, everybody loves this song. Paula‘s a goddess of pop,” you dismiss him, reaching over and twisting the dial down.

“Loosen up. Y’know, what you really need is some fun,” he turns the dial to the other side, and now you’re back at square one.

“I have plenty of fun!” you narrow your eyes challengingly, but when you go to turn it back down, a small neon orange ball comes hurdling at your face. You gasp, dodging the projectile aimed at your head. “Did you really just throw an off-brand cheese ball at my face?”

“Maybe I did… maybe I didn’t,” he shrugs nonchalantly, moving over to the lounge chair in the corner of his room.

“What are you, five?” You reprimand him, and as he bends over to pick up a pencil from his carpet, you scoop the plastic bucket of cheese balls, firing a few directly at him. They hit his shoulder blade, crumbling as they fall down to the carpet, hints of orange residue leaving itself all over Steve.

“Who’s five now?”

“Okay, you got four choices, right? Well, out of those four, one will be a total throwaway,” Steve explains, pacing around his room as you catapult yourself back onto his bed, settling to sit cross-legged. It had only taken an hour and a handful of cheese balls to get a Steve to actually start studying.

“Wait, really?“

“Yeah! They do it so they can weed out the morons,” he nods, “No you’ve got three choices left and out of those three choices, one word will often mean the total opposite, so you can rule that one out too. Then you’re down to two choices, and even if you don’t know the answer, you’ve still got a 50/50 shot.”

“That makes it so much easier!” You fall back dramatically and rest your forearm under the back of your head.

“Yeah, you just can’t spend too much time on one question, you have to breeze through it with total confidence and no hesitation.”

“God, I hope I can do it.” You exhale, watching the fan on the ceiling swirl around.

“You can do it. You’re smart already. In fact, I think that’s your problem. You totally outsmart yourself.” He joins you on his queen size bed, lying down beside you.

“Well, sometimes I wish I wasn’t so ‘smart,’” you scoff.

“You know what?” He waits until you’re looking at him with curious eyes to continue, “you’re pretty cute when you’re not biting my head off.” You roll your eyes at his bluntness. If he was anyone else you’d probably be a little offended, but it was Steve. You were way too used to it now.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?”

“No…” You watch as his eyes flicker from your own, to your lips, then slowly back up to your eyes. “This is.” He leans forward, and before you can even process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

You sock him hard in the shoulder, shooting up from his bed.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grabs his shoulder as if in pain, but you know it’s only his ego that’s wounded.

“What the hell, man?!” You run your hands through your hair, groaning out in frustration. “Why on earth would you do that?!”

“Well, uh… I don’t know. I thought I was picking up on something, that’s all.”

“I have to go… Hey, I’m sure you helped my score two—three hundred points.” You scramble to get your things together, actively avoiding looking Steve in the eye.

“Hey, B,” you join Brandon on the grass in the quad, a small thud as you set your food down beside you.

“Hey, Y/N/N. What’s for lunch?” It was unusually cold today. Clouds covered the usually beaming sun, though little beams of light peeked through every once in a while.

“How can you even think about food right now?“ You fold your hands in your lap, swallowing. You hadn’t eaten all day, but you couldn’t make yourself hungry if you wanted to.

“Actually, there’s something pretty important I want to tell you—“

“Wait. Before you say anything…” you catch his gaze thoughtfully, “how’re you holding up with everything?”

He sighs at that, letting his eyes drift to the ground. “Look, I can’t really flip out at home because of Brenda… but the truth is, inside I’m- I’m flipping out, Y/N/N.” You grab his hand silently, holding it and resting your intertwined fingers on your lap as he continues. “I mean, I know she’s gonna be fine but…”

“Hey, hey… of course she’s gonna be fine.” But then again…

“But then again, there’s always that chance,” his voice is quivering as he swallows, “And I can’t even comprehend it.” You place your free hand over the hand that you’re holding. You sit in silence for a moment, and you think about how you’ve never seen him like this before. Your typically mild-mannered boyfriend’s quiet. He’s vulnerable. He’s scared.

“Brandon, just know that no matter what it is, you can always come talk to me about it.“

"I know… you too, Y/N/N.” You give him a soft, empathetic smile.

“So, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Well, it’s almost been three hours,” Brenda sighs.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m sure she’ll call any minute!” Cindy agrees, chewing mindlessly on her thumbnail.

“And when she does I’ll answer it,” Brenda states, glaring in an accusatory way towards her mother.

“Fine, can I get anybody something to eat?” Cindy jolts up, making you realize how antsy everyone is. You’re tapping your foot as you stand next to Dylan at a hundred miles a minute, Brandon’s been pacing around the couch for twenty minutes, and Jim hasn’t said a word this entire time.

“Doesn’t anyone know any more jokes?” Brenda suggests, eyeing Dylan.

“None that I could tell here… Y/N/N?” Dylan looks to you, but you shake your head.

The doorbell rings, causing Cindy to go careening towards the phone. She whips it up to her ear and shouts impatiently into it.

“Hello?!”

“See, I told you she’d answer it,” Brenda grumbles, going over to the front door. She swings it open as Kelly and Donna walk in, giant gift baskets in hand. “You guys, I’m not dead.” The telephone starts to ring, interrupting Kelly when she opens her mouth to speak. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” Brenda shouts, bolting over to the phone and bringing the antenna up. She lifts it to her ear. “Hello? Yes, this is Brenda… hi, Dr. Donner… Uh-huh…” Oh god. This is it. “Uh-huh!” A grin spreads across her face, “It is?!” You can feel the weight lifting off of your shoulders with pure relief. You quickly send up a collective thank you to any and every god you can think of, just in case. “It’s fibroadenoma, just like she thought. Fairly common in teenage girls due to an abnormally high level of estrogen. I guess my hormones were raging,” she giggles.

“Tell me about it,” Dylan smirks, and Brandon sends his elbow into his stomach at the exact same moment you smack Dylan on the back of the head. “Hey!”

Now, time to tackle your next crisis: the fact that you just bombed your SATs.

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou @palefiregiver @rosy-pugs

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wrestlingisfake · 4 years ago

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Bound for Glory preview

Eric Young vs. Rich Swann - Young is defending the Impact Wrestling world championship. This is only Swann’s second match since suffering a legit knee injury in January. He returned to the ring for a five-way title match at Slammiversary on July 18, where he eliminated Young. Eric “reinjured” Swann’s leg to cost him that match; when Swann was forced to “retire” on August 4, Young assaulted him again. Since then Young has gone on to win the world title, while Swann has been doing a whole “come out of retirement for revenge” storyline.

It’s funny to think about how these guys are headlining this show, considering that most fans would probably remember them best for being lost in the shuffle at WWE. But this is Impact’s level, and it has been for years. Just because these guys would be working a dark match on Smackdown doesn’t mean they can’t have a compelling main event here in a much smaller pond.

The basic “Rocky movie” approach to booking this feud would be to have Swann overcome adversity to conquer his most dangerous rival and finally win the big one. But Impact has a long history of trying to outthink that logic, and I have a long memory of them swerving away from big coronation moments. It was only a few months ago, in fact, that they were building up Ace Austin for an inevitable run on top, and then they just...didn’t do that. So Swann might win, or they might tell a story that he has a lot of ring rust to shake off before he beat Young. Nevertheless, my gut still says Swann wins the title here.

Alex Shelley & Chris Sabin vs. Doc Gallows & Karl Anderson vs. Ethan Page & Josh Alexander vs. Ace Austin & Madman Fulton - This is a four-way match for the Impact tag team title, currently held by the Motor City Machine Guns (Shelly and Sabin). Per standard four-way rules, the only way to win is by pinfall or submission, and the first man to score a fall on any opponent wins the match and the title for his team.

The North (Page and Alexander) held the title for just over a full year as various other teams broke up or drifted away from Impact, so they got to be able to say they cleaned out the division. Then Sabin and Shelley came in as the wily veterans to get a big push (which is sort of ironic when you consider their history with this company). Austin and Fulton came together earlier this year as a “rising top heel and his enforcer” act, but they ended up as a tag team when they began feuding with the Good Brothers (Gallows and Anderson). All along, there’s been a sense that the Machine Guns are just keeping the titles warm until they put over the Good Brothers.

I could see any of these teams getting the title, but it’s pretty clear Gallows and Anderson are top attractions in this company, so one way or another the title picture is going to revolve around them. One interesting wrinkle is that the Good Brothers plan to work for both Impact and New Japan, and New Japan has a tag team tournament coming up, leading into their biggest show of the year. If I’m Don Callis, I want to send Gallows and Anderson to Japan for a couple of months to soak up that exposure, and I’d want them do it while wearing Impact title belts. I’m probably getting ahead of myself with that speculation, but since I’ve got no other clear way to pick a winner, I’ll let that be why I’m going with Doc and Karl.

Deonna Purrazzo vs. Kylie Rae - Purrazzo is defending the Impact women’s title. Kylie earned this title shot by winning a battle royale on July 18, the same night Purrazzo won the championship. Since then Kylie has won the Warrior Wrestling women’s title, but that belt isn’t at stake here.

It was just about a year ago that Kylie debuted here, coming off a surprisingly abrupt exit from AEW. It’s always felt like Impact wanted to do a slow build to her as the face of the women’s division. And yet, Impact has also given Purrazzo a strong push since her debut in May. Each of them would be my pick to win against any other woman in the company right now. But against one another, it’s real tough to choose. Feels like almost every match on this card is a pick-’em, which is a good thing.

I’m gonna go with Kylie to win just because she makes me happy.

EC3 vs. Moose - Moose has spent most of the year as the self-proclaimed “TNA world champion,” but EC3 stole his belt and I’m not sure what happened to it and I’m not sure either guy still cares about it at this point. EC3 gained his widest exposure to fans in his NXT/WWE run, but Impact viewers know he really made his name in this promotion, back when it was called TNA. “EC3” literally stands for “Ethan Carter III,” from when his gimmick was that he was the (kayfabe) nephew of longtime TNA owner Dixie Carter.

The story is that after EC3 was laid off from WWE, he decided he had to exorcise his old failures, which I guess are symbolized by Moose carrying around the belt he once held. So EC3 started interfering in Moose matches and stalking him and playing cryptic videos for him and other weird stuff. This has been going on since July but EC3 has yet to wrestle for Impact in all that time. Aside from a couple of indie shows, and some ROH stuff that hasn’t aired yet, this will be his first match in 2020.

Back in July I assumed that EC3 would sign with Impact. Then when I heard he was doing stuff with ROH, I figured it was a side project before he fully committed to Impact. But after three months with no Impact matches, I’m starting to wonder if his Impact deal is a one-and-done. Actually, the fact I’m wondering that helps the match, since if I was sure he was sticking around, it’d be super obvious that he has to beat Moose. As it is, I’m still leaning toward EC3 winning, but that little doubt in my head will keep it interesting.

Eddie Edwards vs. Ken Shamrock - I lost the plot on this one, but as I recall Edwards had a vicious feud with Sami Callihan in 2018, and then Shamrock had a vicious feud with Callihan earlier this year, and now Shamrock and Callihan both hate Edwards for some reason. Incidentally Shamrock is being inducted into Impact’s hall of fame this weekend, so it’s kind of weird that they decided now is the time to turn him heel.

I think the easiest way to sum both of these guys up is that neither of them knows when to quit. They both look grizzled and stopped-giving-a-fuck, which makes them scary in the way that convicts in movies seem scary. Now that I think about it, I’m surprised it took so long for this match to happen.

The x-factor here is Callihan, who will undoubtedly be interfering on behalf of Shamrock. I don’t know who the hell Eddie can get to counteract that; usually when he needs backup it ends up being his wife Alisha, which works better than you might expect but still not all that well. I guess if Davey Richards was going to return, this would be a cool way to set it up. But failing that, I don’t think Eddie can win this match.

Rohit Raju vs. Chris Bey vs. TJP vs. Jordynne Grace vs. Trey Miguel vs. Willie Mack - Raju’s “X division” title is on the line. This is being billed as a “six-way scramble match.” I tend to think that’s just a cute name for a standard six-way match, where whoever scores the first fall on any opponent wins the match and the title. Of course, in WWE a “scramble match” was a specific stipulation where whoever scores the last fall in a specified time period is the winner. But I think if Impact was trying to bring those rules back, they’d have made a bigger deal about it, and I would have heard something about it by now.

The backstory here is that Bey was getting a big push and beat Mack for the title, and Raju started lobbying to be his henchman. This led to Bey vs. Raju vs. TJP, with the idea that Raju would help Bey against TJP, but Raju went into business for himself and won the title. So now everybody is gunning for Raju, including Trey for some reason I forget, and I think Grace just got thrown in there to make it more interesting. Basically, Raju was a prelim guy before any of this happened, and he’d be the underdog against any of these opponents, so you’re supposed to think he’s doomed in a match against all of them.

I’m a tad surprised Grace is involved, because it wasn’t all that long ago that it was Tessa Blanchard as the woman chasing the X title, and then the world title, and that didn’t work out so well. Then again, Tessa’s gender was hardly the reason that run fell apart, so maybe Impact is determined to do it again until they get it right. Thing is, if you want to seriously present a woman winning a men’s championship, you want the champion that puts her over to be stronger than Rohit Raju. So if they’re gonna do it, I’d say they should do it later, with Grace challenging one of the other guys for the title one-on-one.

Anyone could win this match, but it’s a real old trick to have the most hated heel be the biggest underdog, and then he steals a win after his opponents destroy each other. So I’m going with Rohit to retain.

20-person “Call Your Shot” gauntlet match - This is a timed interval gauntlet match, similar to WWE’s Royal Rumble. Two participants start the match, and each additional participant enters at regular intervals. (I don’t think they’ve said how long the intervals are, but I’m guessing 90 seconds or two minutes or something.) For most of the match, a competitor can only be eliminated by leaving the ring over the top rope and placing both feet on the floor; however, once all but two wrestlers are eliminated, the rules change so they can only lose by pinfall or submission. The last person left in the match is the winner and earns the right to a title match against the champion of their choice.

So far Impact has confirmed eleven participants, seven men and four women:

Acey Romero, of the XXXL tag team

Alisha Edwards, whose last singles victory in this company was in 2018 against AEW’s Rebel/Reba

Brian Myers, formerly known as Curt Hawkins in WWE

Havok, aka Jessicka Havok in the indies

Heath, formerly Heath Slater in WWE, with the gimmick that he hasn’t yet secured a contract to work for Impact

Hernandez, once a rising star in TNA, now some sleazy guy backstage with a giant wad of cash

Larry D, Romero’s partner in XXXL

Rhino, the former ECW/WWE star who’s been trying to help Heath get signed

Taya Valkyrie, probably best known from AAA and Lucha Underground

Tenille Dashwood, formerly Emma in NXT and WWE

Tommy Dreamer, the ECW legend, who has been feuding with Myers

The order of entry is supposed to be random, but the results of an October 20 match slotted Hernandez as the last entrant and Rhino as the first. The added stipulation for Rhino and Heath is that their jobs are on the line: If either of them wins, Rhino stays and Heath is signed, but if neither of them win, Rhino is fired and Heath can’t keep coming around asking for work.

It feels like this match has to end with Rhino or Heath winning, to pay off that storyline. In fact, I could easily see it being a deal where one appears to be eliminated, and hides off-camera until the other is thrown out, and then Josh Matthews can play Michael Cole being all shocked that there’s still hope. It feels so obvious that I’ve seen speculation that Heath needs to turn on Rhino right after one of them wins, to keep it interesting. But I think we’re all overlooking the alternative, where they’re both kicked out of the company but nevertheless keep appearing in comedy skits for weeks until they get some other chance to earn contracts. Personally, I’d just keep it simple and have Heath win leading to Heath and Rhino challenging for the tag title.

Dez & Wentz vs. Cody Deaner & Cousin Jake - This is being advertised for the pre-show. Dez (Desmond Xavier) and Wentz (Zachary Wentz) are, along with Trey Miguel, the stoner team of the Rascalz. Cody Deaner has been Impact’s resident redneck good-ol’ boy on and off for years. Jake is better known on the indie scene as Jake Something, the current Black Label Pro champion. Between the two teams, I think Impact is more committed to pushing the Rascalz, but this is another one where it could really go either way. This whole show has been really hard to predict. Let’s hope it still seems unpredictable after it’s over.

#impact wrestling #bound for glory #eric young #rich swann

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laurelsofhighever · 5 years ago

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Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Chapter Rating: Mature Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort Chapter Summary: Having arrived at Deerswall, plans are made for the push to Highever, but Rosslyn has a lot on her mind.

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Twenty-fifth day of Firstfall, 9:32 Dragon

“Something isn’t right.”

Alistair pulled his gaze from the vista before them. “What do you mean?”

Under a brief easing of the weather, the king’s army stood outside Deerswall, massed on the flat plain that had once fostered so many refugees. Rosslyn sat at the front with Alistair, Cailan, and the senior officers of their guards, wrapped up in furs to ward off the wind as they studied the high, closed gate of the fort and the eerie quiet of its walls. A pair of crows hopped across the top of the eastern watchtower by the gate, but nothing else moved.

“They’ve abandoned it,” she realised. “There’s no one here.”

“Would Howe give up such an advantage so easily?” Cailan asked.

“He knew we were coming. It’s probably part of some larger plan, snake that he is, but we’ll still be better off inside than out until we’re ready to move again.”

“Or maybe it’s more simple than that,” Alistair replied. “Maybe it’s an ambush and they’re waiting for us to get too close so they can poke us with a lot of arrows.”

She nodded slowly; she had considered it. “Gideon?”

“Ma’am?”

“What is the size of the garrison here?”

The old commander shifted in his saddle. “Scout reports put the number at forty to sixty swords – what was left of the Red Iron after Wythenshawe.”

“Mercenaries have horses,” she murmured, and pulled down the scarf that covered the lower half of her face. Icy air stung her nose but she breathed deeply nonetheless, and marked the claggy, stale odour of mud and water, without a hint of smoke or animal dung to taint it. Beneath their feet, a trail of hoofprints led away from the gate, with lumps of manure scattered here and there at least three days old. The emptiness reminded her of Harrowhill, the cold, the quiet, even the blank walls fluttering with the Orange and White of the hated Bear. She turned from the banners with a curl of her lip, aware of the army at her back and Lasan’s nervous shift beneath her. Back then she had trembled, a lost girl stripped of everything she had ever known.

“Should we go up and knock?” Alistair asked, to fill the silence.

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“Wait –” His hand shot out as she slipped from the saddle. “I didn’t mean to actually do it!”

“We need to know for sure if there’s anyone in that fort,” she replied easily, unslinging her shield from the saddle and buckling Talon to her waist.

“Then let someone else go.” He had dropped to the ground beside her, stepping around the groom that had come to take their horses’ reins. “Cailan –”

“You think I’ve the power to persuade her from this?” The king shook his head. “I trust Her Ladyship’s judgement, and her skill.”

“I’ll be careful.”

But Alistair moved closer, heedless of the ranks watching them, and laid a hand over hers. “We talked about this,” he murmured. “You – taking risks.”

“Would you have me send one of my soldiers to do something I wouldn’t be willing to do myself?” she asked.

“The problem is, you’re entirely too willing.” He attempted a smile. “The first sign of anything –”

“I’ll come back,” she promised, and squeezed his fingers. “Just try and stop me.”

She felt his eyes bore into her back as she started across the open ground with her standard bearer at her heels. Howe’s forces had been busy in the months left to themselves, bolstered the defences with stone bracing at the base of the palisade, and set a ditch in front of the main gate. They had even built a bridge over the lumpy, half frozen sludge at the bottom, though the only thing left of it now was a charred skeleton of pilings and planks doused by the rain before the fire could fully take them. It made a great delaying tactic.

Mud sucked at their boots. Their progress was slow, hampered by the search for caltrops under their feet and movement in the crenelations above, and as they crossed the invisible line that put them within arrowshot of the walls, Rosslyn raised her shield just a little bit, ready in case Alistair’s worry proved true. The moat stopped her reaching the whole distance to the gate, so instead she stopped at the lip of the bank and planted her feet as if she were exactly where she wanted to be, waiting for her standard bearer to raise the Laurels at her back.

No sign from the walls. The crowd stopped their preening to watch as Maddow opened his mouth to speak.

“Hail to Her Ladyship Teyrna Rosslyn Cousland, Falcon of Highever, Commander in the North, right hand of His Majesty King Cailan Theirin, true and just ruler of Ferelden, defeater of the traitor Loghain and the snivelling polecat Howe who waits on him!”

Rosslyn’s brow quirked. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

“I thought we were trying to bait them, ma’am.” He shot her a grin, which only widened when she rolled her eyes and nodded for him to continue.

“Enemies of His Majesty! You are called on to surrender yourselves, this fortress, and its environs immediately to the grace of Her Ladyship, or else it is decreed to a one you will suffer a most painful death!”

Unimpressed, the crows resumed their business and let the last echoes of the challenge rebound off the palisade, but nothing else moved. Rosslyn counted to ten, and when no arrows came streaking from behind the walls, let go of the breath she had been holding and half-turned back towards her lines, a grin wild and triumphant across her face.

“What do you think?” she called to them. “Should I blow a raspberry?”

A chorus of jeers answered her, meant for the ears of whatever forces might be hiding behind the gate, and when even that met only silence, she nodded, once, and gestured for Maddow to follow her back to the ranks, where Gideon was already waiting.

“I want to be in there by nightfall,” she ordered. “The ground looks solid enough to put a bridge in, so get the carpenters to work on it – utility only, no flourishes. It needs to get everybody across and hold up until we leave. In the meantime, sweep the whole place for traps and anyone that might be hiding, groups of three at the least so alarms can be raised.”

“Aye, Your Ladyship.” The commander bowed, and turned to bark orders to the unit of scouts already waiting for orders, leaving her free to return to Alistair’s side.

“And now we wait?” he checked.

She huffed and went to loosen the girth strap on Lasan’s saddle. “And now we wait. It’s surprising how much of that there is in battle.”

“I see.”

“What’s that look for?”

“Uh…”

With a cough and a quick glance to make sure all attention was elsewhere, he sidled up next to her, settling his hand on the small of her back to keep their conversation close enough that no one could overhear. The touch barely reached her through all her layers of metal and cloth, but its tenderness, the clarity of his gaze, sent a lick of heat shooting along her limbs nonetheless, and she had to turn her face into her horse’s flank to avoid being overcome. She could see Loren and Franderel in the distance, guiding their horses over from the wing, but still too far away to trouble them yet.

“I’ve never seen you command like that,” Alistair said, with the slightest tinge of pink at the tips of his ears. “Not even at Lothering – when you swooped in and saved me, remember?”

“Does it bother you?” She had grown up hearing comparisons between herself and the more elegant ladies of the court, the ones like Anora who kept to their arms training as a formality only and never tried to go to war.

His touch rose to the back of her neck, playing with the loose strands that had fallen out of her braid. “I wouldn’t say it bothers me, at least not in a bad way. It just makes me wonder what you would have been like raising horses on the coast – if you hadn’t had to deal with all this.”

“Would I have met you, then?” she asked.

“Of course,” he answered, and brushed his lips against her forehead. “Blight wolves couldn’t keep me from such beauty.”

A smirk lifted the corner of her mouth. “And you think a line like that would have worked on me?”

“Ohhhh you? No, I’d have better lines for you. Trust me.”

“Such as?”

“Well, let me think…”

“Your Highness, Your Ladyship!” Franderel reined his charger sharply to a halt and dismounted, with Loren not far behind. “I trust everything is going well?”

“Fine,” she replied, leaning back out of Alistair’s reach as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “We were just about to join His Majesty in his pavilion.”

Her vassal nodded, either oblivious or choosing to ignore it, and gestured towards where servants had already posted the War Dog standard and offloaded the tent canvas from its supply cart. “Shall we, then? It will be good to finalise the details of our campaign to the north, even if we may have to face the prospect of getting underway before we can fully claim Deerswall.”

“Why don’t we keep the doom and gloom until after lunch?” Alistair made the suggestion with a smile, but he kept close to her side, gaze narrowed at the elderly bann.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“His Majesty has sent outriders to establish a perimeter,” Loren offered, interposing between them, “so if we are forced to stay outside the walls tonight, we won’t be caught unprepared.”

At a stalemate for the moment, they left their horses with the grooms and weaved through the ranks of soldiers being kept busy with menial tasks while the carpenters and the advance worked on the bridge and on clearing out the keep. Others still had been sent into the surrounding forest for firewood, and on the few cookfires already established here and there, the rest lined up for their midday meal. It would likely be nothing more than thin meat stew bulked out with vegetables and hard bread, but on such a cold day with damp nipping at the fingers, it would provide welcome warmth for a few hours, and the smell was already rising through the camp.

“How are your lands coping with the refugees, my lord?” Rosslyn asked Franderel, to distract from the cavernous feel of her stomach.

“Many moved on to the west where fighting was less likely to spread, Your Ladyship,” the bann replied, falling into step beside her. “Those who stayed have been a mixed blessing – extra mouths, but also extra hands to help with the harvest. And extra eyes to watch the northern border for trouble.”

She nodded. “Highever will not forget the generosity shown to its people.”

“West Hill is only glad to offer assistance when called upon. And…” He allowed a smile. “I am also relieved to see our worst fears turn to smoke. I knew your father, fought with him. It seems you’ve inherited his talents.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

She decided not to push the issue, despite her suspicion over his apparent sincerity, and only nodded her acknowledgement as Cailan waved them over to the table he had set up by the supplies, already in attendance with Teagan, Knight-Captain Irminric and a bevy of servants swirling around them. He had decided to forego the entire pavilion, choosing optimism instead, and had directed the servants to pitch only a windbreak and a roof over his map table in case it rained. The openness of the arrangement allowed a view across the entire camp, with Deerswall as a backdrop and a fine detail of cartography splayed across the war table readable in the daylight.

“Ho!” the king called. “Are we on track?”

“That depends on what surprises the Red Iron left for us,” Rosslyn answered.

“Tch, cowards. Although in fairness, I doubt I would dare brave the Falcon’s wrath waiting inside a wooden fortress!” He greeted the others and ushered them around the table. “In an ideal world, the keep is perfectly safe, and we will be in it in time for a decent night’s rest, which means we will have limited time in the morning to prepare for anything but an immediate departure. As you can imagine, if the rumours of the queen’s presence at Castle Cousland prove true, we must reach it – and take it – as soon as possible. Since we can do nothing further to aid us in that for now, we should solidify our plans.”

Loren bowed. “We stand ready, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Now then, the spear of our attack will come from two fronts.” Cailan rearranged the maps to find one of the northern coast, which he smoothed out and weighted at the corners. “One group, led by Her Ladyship and Prince Alistair, will travel along the coast and infiltrate the castle to secure the queen and the gates ahead of the army’s arrival.”

“Castle Cousland’s walls are nigh unpassable,” Franderel scoffed. “And there can be no certainty that any within those walls are yet loyal to the Laurels. How many are you taking for this venture?”

“Enough,” Rosslyn replied. “Our strength will be my knowledge of the castle, rather than numbers. Without the help of a dragon to breach the curtain wall, the keep could never be taken in time to ensure Queen Anora’s safety.”

Cailan sighed. “There is no ideal solution to this, but no better. The second force will approach as if for a traditional siege, with as much fanfare as we can muster. This main force will be both diversion and bait to try and draw out Howe, and once we have him, Loghain will have nothing left behind which to hide. You have thoughts, my lord Loren?”

The bann startled out of his frown. “What of Loghain’s forces?”

“If this is a trap, then we will turn it against the trapper. We have surprise on our side. He will expect to face an army with nowhere to run, with a castle for his defence, when in fact, thanks to Her Ladyship’s actions, the opposite will be true.”

“I see.” Loren stroked a hand along his chin. “It might still be wise to send an advanced guard ahead, in case the teyrn is not where he is expected to be.”

“That’s unlikely,” Rosslyn interrupted. “Loghain is an experienced general, and for the first time, our forces outnumber his. He’ll want every advantage he can get, which means having Castle Cousland at his back.”

“Still,” Irminric reasoned, with a glance in her direction. “It would not hurt to be wary, if we could find a unit suitable for the task.”

“I would like to volunteer,” Loren said, and at Rosslyn’s blink of surprise, drew himself up. “I have spent months watching the border, hearing of your successes, and I wish for an end to this as wholeheartedly as any of you.”

“How will Your Majesty know if this… infiltration force has succeeded?” Franderel asked.

“We are due to meet in six days after Her Ladyship leaves for the coast,” Cailan replied. “Once Howe’s colours are struck from the tower, her party will open the gates to the rest of our forces, and we let our enemy beat itself to exhaustion against the walls.”

“Most of the mages will stay with that force. We expect the most casualties there, and if Her Ladyship does not manage to reach the gates it in time, they will make the greatest difference in fending off an attack. Given the lack of templars, they will need a guard.”

“Would my knights be suitable, Captain?” Teagan asked. A slight hesitation shook his voice, but he had adapted quickly to the idea of being Arl of Redcliffe in his brother’s place, with all that entailed.

“They will, my lord.”

The jangle of mail alerted them to the arrival of a messenger in blue, who bowed low, cheeks flushed pink as she started to speak.

“Your Ladyship, Guard-Commander Gideon said to inform you the bailey and upper battlements are clear for occupation, and the bridge will be completed to standard in an hour.”

“Thank you, corporal. Have units start to move across as soon as possible, and draft more people into the search of the keep to speed the clearance.” Rosslyn waited for the messenger to leave before turning back to her audience, her back straight and her voice steady. “One question remains before we set out. My volunteers are ready, but what about the ship we commissioned?”

“It’ll be waiting for you at Rothsbridge, Your Ladyship,” Franderel replied. “Supplied and ready, as per your order.”

“Good.”

Despite the mask of confidence, nerves jittered beneath the surface, turning her stomach and shortening her breath no matter how many times she forced her muscles to relax. The prospect of finally going home lurked at the back of her mind, pushed aside for as long as the council discussed troop placement and travel times, but every detail only added to the weight of reality pressing down on her, and would not be ignored forever. This was the campaign for Highever. The end she had wanted for so many months was suddenly in sight, real, complete with the very real consequences they would all suffer if she failed.

Even once darkness fell and the last of the army had squeezed through the gate, and the Amarathine banners were torn from the walls, her mind wandered, dwelled on what she might find, how little might remain. Without people to occupy them, most of the rooms on the private floor would have to be shut up, the furnishings covered with dust sheets to ward off damage. She would be expected to move into the big room at the front of the house that had always belonged to the teyrn, never mind the sea view in her own chambers, or the fact that she could never think of the big room without hearing her father’s jokes and her mother’s deep, rich laughter.

What had become of her parents’ things – the dressing sets and the lifetime of trinkets? Oren’s toys? How much of her whole life had been thrown aside, or melted down for coin to fund the ransacking of the rest of the teyrnir? The more she tried not to think about it, the more she dreaded having to walk the halls again, accompanied by nothing but draughts through ancient corridors, the echoes of her own solitary footsteps. The heat of battle forced her mind to other things, but once the war finished and everyone went back to their lives, what could she do?

She lay awake for an hour trying to get comfortable, trying to put it from her thoughts, until her patience snapped and she threw back the bedcovers hard enough that they half-buried Cuno. He opened one bleary eye, but she soothed him with a murmur and he stretched out with a doggy sigh that took him back to sleep. Nobody would bother her at such a late hour. She threw on shirt, breeches, and a gambeson for warmth, and headed to the stables.

Alistair would have to go to Denerim, to fulfil his duties as heir apparent. She scowled at her boots as she dwelled on the idea. It was one thing to have their affection for each other made public, but to live together without any formal arrangement between the two of them would cause scandal in the court. Anora would never allow it. And she would never ask him to shoulder such a burden.

The horses greeted her with soft snorts and sweet breaths. As she slipped into Lasan’s stall with a grooming kit on her arm, he turned to her with a low nicker that eased her worries away. Spending time with the large, graceful animals always calmed her, and after topping up her charger’s supply of hay and water and discarding her gambeson on a hook outside, she lost herself in in long strokes of the dandy brush, working from neck to haunch until even the thickest parts of his winter coat gleamed like marble. She spotted burrs in his tail and teased them out with a comb, then looked for anything else the grooms might have missed, details that might keep her mind focused just a little bit longer. She couldn’t take him with her, after all. Her mount for the morning run to Rothsbridge stood further down the line in the narrow barn allocated to the geldings of the messenger service.

A hoof stamped in the straw.

“I’ve overstayed my welcome, huh?” she asked, coming up to stroke her horse’s ears.

He pulled his head away from her, swishing his tail and giving a meaningful tug on his haynet.

“I see I’m dismissed.” She shook her head and left him with a final pat. “Don’t bully the hands too much while I’m gone.”

A rustle in the straw alerted her to another presence as she bolted the stall door.

“There you are.”

She smiled and turned, and found Alistair leaning against the post by the door. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“You definitely aren’t,” he replied.

Whatever response she might have given died under the soft scrutiny of his gaze. He was already moving forward, reaching for her, warm and solid, a strong heartbeat to calm the tempo of hers.

“The plan will work,” he told her as her arms slipped around his neck.

“It’s not the plan,” she breathed. “It’s after.”

A sigh, the embrace tightening about her shoulders. “We’ll face it together.”

“I’m glad you’re going with me.”

He loosed a chuckle above her ear. “We both know you just need someone to carry the bags.”

She snorted, because he said it to make her laugh, but she pulled back nonetheless, just enough, and threaded her fingers into his hair. “That isn’t true.”

He searched her face. She nudged forward, drawing him down, until he leaned the last little distance and kissed her first, starting with a hand feathered along her jaw, the tiniest of steps to eliminate what little space remained between them.

“Is anyone else here?” he asked, without breaking away.

Unable to speak, she merely shook her head. The kiss deepened, they moved. Alistair’s hand stretched out to brace them both as her back met the wall, while hers roved, pulling him closer at waist and neck. The press of his body trapped her, all strength and safety like she had never known with anyone else, and when a groan tore from his throat with an involuntary stutter of his hips, she took it, and answered, and followed him when he turned his head to pause for air. For a moment they stood, sharing heavy breaths, unmoving save for the whisper of hands across cloth, the slight sway as their senses righted and reminded them of the ground beneath their feet.

“We, uh, never got to finish our conversation,” he managed, voice rough, fingers soft as rain as they slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt and wove delicate, distracting circles across her back. “I’ve been thinking about it – about what might have happened if we weren’t interrupted.”

She leaned into him, grinned as her touch on the back of his neck made him shudder. “So have I. What… what would you have said?”

“That…” He swallowed, untangling her fingers so he could take them in his. “I want you, and I’ve wondered – imagined – what it would be like for longer than is probably decent. And I want – I’m willing to wait, until the perfect time, the perfect place, until you’re ready, and it’s what you want.”

The words held a practiced air, as if he had rehearsed them, scanned them for any misinterpretation, and now he held himself before her, all brittle hope as he waited for a response. Rosslyn’s doubt all but bled away, her uncertainty not for what she wanted, but that the lack of wanting before might show itself in the moment, in other ways. She tightened her hold on his hand.

“You think it would be worth the wait?”

He sighed, disbelieving. “You’re worth everything already, but that… it would be special.”

A bright knot of tension coiled beneath her ribs, expanding around her heart until her breath stalled and her limbs shook, but in its suddenness the strength of her yearning defied mere words. Her silence drew his brows together, however, and the purse of his lips as his gaze dropped to their linked hands was unacceptable.

“I love you so much,” she told him at last, laying her free hand against his cheek. “I’m just… not sure how to explain it. I haven’t changed – what I am is the same, and my feelings for you don’t…” She stopped, biting down on a growl. “I don’t see you and desire you like I’ve heard other people say. But I feel you, and this isn’t close enough, and I want – I want to be with you for that. I want to touch you and never stop, I –” the words were tumbling out too rushed, an embarrassment buoyed by disbelief that such an admission was hers at all. And she was too easily distracted. Alistair’s spare hand still lay at her waist, still turning circles against her skin with the blunt edge of a nail. “I don’t want you to stop doing that.”

It took him a moment to work out what she meant. “You like that?”

“Mmhm.” Her eyes closed to better concentrate on the trail of his touch, but when she tilted forwards, he dodged the kiss and let his mouth run the length of her jaw instead, all the way to the pulse point at the top of her neck. There, he paused, the tip of his tongue flicking against her skin as he wet his lips.

“I want to learn every inch of you by heart.”

She realised her lungs had stopped working. A snide part of her wanted to deny the rush of heat through her limbs, the tingle low in her belly, as merely a reaction to the road ahead or some vain hope that this might finally be the cure to whatever ailment had left her cold all her life. Terror gripped her through that tiny instant of doubt, but Alistair stood ready to lead her away from the precipice. His eyes darkened to the rich, sweet hue of spiced mead as he looked at her, his fingers careful as they left her waist to play with the wispy hair at the back of her neck.

“Breathe,” he reminded her, with a fond twist to his usual cocksure grin. It faltered. “Would – what I said, is that alright?”

She caught his face again, her focus slipping to his mouth. “As long as you let me do the same with you,” she answered.

The shudder that ran through him wiped away any hesitation about claiming his lips again. He pushed her back into the wall as he opened to her, smirking at the noise the movement startled from her throat. Deliberately this time, the cover of his body rocked forward, a slow, cautious push against her hips. His head dropped to her shoulder.

“Is this alright?”

All she could manage was a strangled hum and a nod. She knew enough to recognise the long, hard line trapped between his body and hers, and thought of it made her stomach flutter. She kissed his neck, cradled his head in her palm. Every nerve sang like a plucked string. In the stalls around them, the horses shifted in their sleep, a small noise amplified by the darkness and the need for discretion.

She squeezed his arm. “Someone will find us here.”

“And we can’t have that.” He chuckled and dragged himself away, though his hands lingered. They followed invisible tracks along her sides, as if memorizing the shape of her ribs. “It must be getting late – we can’t stay here all night.”

Without losing each other, they wandered from the stable and paused at the trough to wash their hands of dust. A thin rime of ice lay like a skin over the water. Rosslyn threw her gambeson around her shoulders like a cape as she broke through with a bucket to fill the washing station, grateful for the extra layer and for Alistair’s warmth huddling next to her. He fished stray wisps of straw from her hair as he waited for his turn with the horsemaster’s caustic soap, and smiled at the way she blushed, which only encouraged the spread of heat across her face.

Nobody bothered them as they picked their way around the sea of canvas tents to the keep steps. The only movement came from the guards on the battlements, and without the light of either moon to lessen the darkness, the night closed around them like a curtain, allowing them the privacy that came so dearly in daylight. Tucked under Alistair’s shoulder, with his arm around her trying to stave off the chill leaking through her still-open gambeson, Rosslyn almost allowed herself to believe they were like any other couple, leaning into each other, stealing each moment as they found it, all but inseparable, and barely caring what the royal guards thought of them as they passed.

The highest floor of the keep had been set aside for the king and his closest companions, and it was deserted. They halted awkwardly as they came to Rosslyn’s door, limned by the low, harsh light of the storm lantern in the alcove opposite, and stood with hands still linked and eyes averted in a vain attempt to prolong the moment before they had to part. Her heart thumped a harsh rhythm in her ears, but before she could say anything, Alistair caught her chin and with the smallest hesitation leaned down to tilt a kiss against her mouth. She reacted instinctively, closed her eyes, stretched upwards to make it last. He stroked her face as he pulled away.

“Goodnight, my love.” His smile turned self-conscious. “Just think, the next time we’ll be sleeping in beds, we’ll be in Highever.”

“Alistair.” She kept hold of his fingers as she glanced to her door and back. She felt her mouth twitch in a brief, reassuring smile, but nerves quickly stole it away.

“You…” His glance mirrored hers, eyes wide. “When I said – down in the stable, I didn’t mean for any of what I said to pressure you.”

“I know.”

“And… you’re sure you want me to – to spend the night? With you?”

Every fibre of her body ached towards him, the feeling too strong for words. She loved him. She wanted to know what it was like.

“I was under the impression that it’s not the done thing to leave – after,” she tried, and winced when the nervous, joking tone fell flat. “I… we wouldn’t have to do anything, but regardless, I don’t know if I could sleep without you, not tonight.”

To her surprise, he giggled. “Woman, do you know how many nights I’ve had to bully myself into not knocking on your door because I thought you’d turn me away?”

“I won’t,” she promised. “I want this. If you do.” She barely had time to raise her eyes to his before he came crashing down to meet her once more.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #da:o #alistair theirin #alistair x cousland #cousland #rosslyn cousland #the falcon and the rose

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Note

Abandoned amusement part for spooky locale prompt

Oooh, thank you for sending this. I love this idea, by the way. One thing came to mind when I got this and that was that I wonder how this would play out in the Walking Dead universe . So, hope you don’t mind! I hope you like this. I also hope it’s actually worth a shit. The idea came to me like this so I went all in with it. And I really, really enjoyed doing it. FYI, I almost went with AHS:Freak Show, but yeah..

I enjoyed doing this, again. Thank you for sending it.

[ send a character name / spooky scenario and location and I’ll write a drabble about it ]

WARNINGS:

uhh.. An OC of mine, Evie Grimes has been revamped. And she may or may not be a little out there in some ways... Like.. Too much. Idk. Lots of swearing. Mentions of gunshots. Me, dicking around with my own alternate universes and what actually took place on the series.... Again, lol.

TAGGING:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@missjenniferb

** off the top of my head, these are the only people I could think might even want a tag.. If you wanna be tagged in my writing on this blog pls see the tag doc link below. Or tell me.]

OTHER STUFF:

[ masterlist - about page - tag doc ]

My lungs burned but I didn’t dare stop. A chain link fence stood between me and my doom and without thinking, I scaled the fence right as a decayed hand raised and very nearly got hold of the heel of my biker boot. I kicked free and tumbled down onto the other side.

I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t turn back. Give the finger to the horde of zombies I’d been outrunning. Probably wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had, but... I did it. After turning away from the horde and moving quickly past a tattered and worn red and white striped tent close to me, I crouched down and started to work on reloading my gun. Once I got that reloaded, I reached behind me and produced my bow, making sure I still had a few arrows left in my quiver. Satisfied that I had my gun loaded and I hadn’t used all my arrows yet, I took a second or two to catch my breath.

The smell of smoke hung heavily in the air and I noticed it then... The flickering light over by an older model pop up camper. “What the hell?” the words came in a quiet gasp because I still hadn’t gotten my breath back completely yet, but curious as to who else might have taken cover in this empty amusement park, I made my way over to the source of light.

This was probably my first -and biggest, mistake. Before I even got halfway across the amusement park, I felt the cold metal of a gun barrel against the back of my skull.

“Where th’ hell you think yer goin, huh? You the reason them damn Walkers are lingerin outside the gate right now?” - that voice.. There was something so familiar about it. Take away the coldness and the anger in the tone and I’d almost swear on my life I’d heard the man currently speaking before. On numerous occasions.

“First of all, lower your fucking weapon.” I tried to stay calm as I said it. The man standing behind me chuckled. “You’re dumb if ya think I’m gon just put down my weapon. How do I know you ain’t with Rick’s group... Or that other sumbitch, Negan?”

And then, it clicked. Shane Walsh. My former childhood crush. My brother’s best friend and former partner at King County PD. ,, it can’t be. he died. Rick told you exactly what happened that night before you got separated...”

“I said... Lower your goddamn gun.” I repeated myself. “If you’d just let me turn around, you fucking idiot, you’d know exactly why I’m not the enemy. Now you on the other hand... You’re supposed to fucking be dead.”

I could hear him shuffle his feet. Clearing his throat. I didn’t have to be looking at him to know that my assessment shocked him. And yeah, parts of me were wondering if he’d put two and two together on his end of it all yet. Given what I remember about Shane, it’s highly doubtful. Man was kind of a meathead like that.

So it shocked me when he muttered in a quiet and shocked tone, “Evie? ‘At you?”

“Lower your gun and let me turn around and you’ll find out, meathead.” I retorted, tapping a heavy sole against the pavement and shivering at the chill in the air. He lowered the gun as I asked and I turned around, coming face to face with him.

Given what my brother told me before I went my seperate way from his little group, I had a lot of understandable concerns. So the first thing I did was to pull out my Bowie knife and hold it at his throat. He swallowed hard, eyeing me in confusion. “What th’ fuck?”

“Well, you’re alive when Rick saw you die with his own two eyes. Carl told me he shot you to make sure you didn’t come back. So... Until I know you’re not going batshit feral on me and attempting to eat my brains, I’m gonna have to keep this right here. You understand, yeah?”

“Evie, put the goddamn knife down. Carl didn’t finish me off, first of all. He tried but he couldn’t. I told ‘im to tell everybody that. Left and went my own way. Been stayin here, “ he swept his arm towards a particularly creepy clown mouth shaped entrance to a nearby funhouse and met my gaze to continue, “Since. Thangs were goin swell. Til you bought the fuckin Walkers right to my gate.”

He rolled his eyes in irritation and I fumed at him angrily. As I considered the story he presented, I held the knife exactly where I’d put it. A smirk formed as he suggested with a smug tone, “What, you want me to strip down and show ya I ain’t one of ‘em? Because darlin, I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”

“Oh I bet you wouldn’t, you colossal ass... But we have bigger problems right now. I wasn’t just running from those undead shitbags outside... I may or may not have pissed off that Negan guy you mentioned. I may or may not have set fire to some shit... Stolen some things. And he may or may not have been chasin me.”

“Woman, what the everlovin fuck?”

“Look. I went there, determined to get my goddamn revenge, okay? He... He killed someone I... I really cared about them. Then all that shit with my brother and his people and Negan.”

Headlights cut through the darkened night and I grumbled. I could hear Negan’s boys whooping and hollering and I gulped, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna lower the knife. But if I even think you’re one of those zombies, Walsh, I swear to God. I’ll kill you in your sleep and I won’t think twice.”

“Fair enough... Guessin this ain’t because you’re feelin generous.”

“No. We’re about to be up to our asses in hillbilly dumb fucks. I can’t take ‘em alone.” I hated admitting I needed his help for anything, it left a sour taste in my mouth.

And his smug smirk didn’t help at all, either.

“First ‘f all, let’s get to higher ground. There’s a control tower back around where you came crashin over the fence at. If we get higher, we can see ‘em. And all my guns and shit are up top.”

I nodded and I didn’t waste any time, crouching amongst the tents. I passed the battered bumper cars attraction and I froze in place when I heard the shuffle-groan-shuffle heading our way. My heart started to race and my stomach jumped clear into my throat. I couldn’t move, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself it was move or get my ass eaten alive. I could hear the trucks getting closer too and that didn’t help. Gunfire was starting to fill the night. This was not a good situation, not by any stretch.

Shane ran up, grabbing me up by my hips, hauling me over his shoulders just as Negan’s vehicle came crashing through the back gate.

“Woman, you brought more trouble than y’ might be worth, y’ know that?”

“Less bitching, Walsh.. More getting us to higher ground.” I muttered as Shane stood me on my own feet and I scrambled up the stairs leading to a control tower. Once we were inside, Shane threw a heavy machine in front of the door and knelt down, loading up his Mossberg.

And outside, the shuffling and groaning got closer. The sounds of revving engines and the sound of bullets echoed through the night.

All I know is I’m not getting a good feeling about tonight, not even slightly.....

#Anonymous

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lost-in-time-marie · 4 years ago

Text

Into the Shadows: Chapter Four

After my birthday, September flew quickly away into October; I could hardly believe Halloween was just days away. I thought of the masked figure that saved me often and always wore the necklace he gave me for my birthday. I dared not utter a word of his existence to anyone. I told myself it was because everyone would think I’m crazy, I mean I still hadn’t ruled out egregious hallucinations from the realm of reality, but somehow, I imagined if I said it all out loud, it would be less real, like maybe it was just a dizzy daydream. If anyone asked about the necklace, I simply said it was birthday present from a friend, no one pressed it beyond that, they had no reason to. Except Natasha. Natasha made frequent curious glances at it, sensing the importance and, perhaps more so, that there was something I wasn’t telling her. An instinct that only encouraged her to unveil any secret I could possibly be hiding. It was getting increasingly difficult to throw her off my trail.

James stuck with Natasha, Aleks, and I, or, on occasion, Katy and I. We continued to take to him, but I grew more suspicious too, constantly asking questions about him and his mysterious life, attempting to figure him out. His answers were all the same, and I knew them well, because none were real answers, they were half-answers with absolutely no details or personality to them. I was beginning to feel like Natasha, questioning motives and growing overly suspicious about the smallest details. Overnight James became the most popular kid in school, everybody loved him. It wasn’t hard to see why, with a face like that and an all-too-charming personality. I had not had hardly any run-ins with Ryder, thank god, and actively ignored him in class. I was still mystified by the one time I’d seen him act like a human being in the elementary school office, but otherwise did my best not to think of him.

“Yes, it is a fitting last name for someone so grim,” James joked one morning in Acting, lounging easily at his desk. I had to wade through another sea of swooning girls this morning just to take my seat. Things had been like this when Ryder first arrived, but when his personality became evident, people mostly just teased him. For as much as I disliked the guy, I never participated.

“Come on, James, leave him alone. He’s probably just shy,” I blurted, sitting down and unpacking my things. I hadn’t meant to interfere, although I was usually the first to stand up to a bully, Ryder could handle himself, the words just popped out of my mouth of their own accord.

“All the sudden coming to the defense of your mortal enemy, how mighty,” James teased, sly smile creeping up his face.

“He’s kind of rude, but it’s no reason to be mean, besides that joke is terrible,” I supplied weakly, rolling my eyes. Ryder skulked into class then and the crowd instantly dispersed. It was like his negative aura had a physical effect on people. It bothered me that James bullied Ryder, he seemed much more vindictive about it than the other students, like he had a personal grudge against him, I kept pushing that pesky thought away, but it popped up every now and again.

James kept pushing, “You’ve never said anything before.”

“I just don’t like seeing someone being bullied,” I shrugged, staring at the board, refusing to look at him. James nodded, thoughtful, but didn’t push the matter further; he had an uncanny sense of when he was overstepping his bounds.

“Guess what today is, class?” Mrs. Robertson enthused loudly, addressing her students after the bell rang, “Nomination for roles in the play!” She answered her own question cheerfully. I groaned silently and resisted the urge to slam my head into the desk repeatedly. Mrs. Robertson told us the other day that there would be two days of deciding roles for “Romeo and Juliet”. The first day, today, would be spent calling out each role, any person who wanted that role would raise their hand and their names would be written down, other people in the class could also nominate someone for a role as long as someone seconded it. What an inventive way to force participation, I had thought sarcastically. The second day, tomorrow, each volunteer or nominee would audition for their role; later the parts would be decided and announced, anyone left over would be on the stage crew. I hate plays. I hate participating in plays. I hate that we are performing this play, most of all.

Mrs. Robertson called out Romeo and one or two guys raised their hand. Elizabeth, the girl behind me, nominated James, and Kim, Elizabeth’s desk partner, seconded the motion.

“I nominate Ryder Grim,” Katy’s voice squeaked out shyly. Every jaw in the class hit the floor and every head turned towards Katy. Her round face was redder than a tomato and she squirmed slightly in her chair from the attention. Her brown eyes found me from across the room and pleaded for help.

“I second that motion,” Another, more confident, voice supported. My voice, I realized a second too late. The words had just tumbled out, and before I could take them back, Ryder’s name was added to the list. I don’t know why I did that, perhaps because he despised attention and I despised him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ryder flash me a baleful look. His gaze was so intense, the daggers shooting out of his eyes froze me in place. My skin bean to crawl with the intensity of his scorn. I refused to turn his way and resisted the urge to flinch and slide away from the daggers he aimed at me. I would pay for this, of that one thing I was absolutely certain.

“Juliet,” Mrs. Robertson called, moving on to the next name on the list.

“I nominate Kristin for Juliet,” James announced loudly. I choked and stared at him with wide eyes, feeling oddly betrayed. I forced my brain to operate to make a refusal, but another voice cut me off.

“I second that motion,” An all too familiar, harsh voice declared. I jerked around in my desk. Ryder sat, overly casual, with his hand in the air. My jaw dropped.

“What?” I hissed. A dark smile played at the corner of his lips, but otherwise the stone mask stayed in place. Payback’s a bitch.

“Okay, moving on,” Mrs. Robertson continued after more girls raised their hand and their names were added to the list. I sat, dazed and numb, in my desk the rest of the class period, trying desperately to compute the events of the period.

The rest of my classes passed easily, thankfully, and the end of the day was fast approaching. After the initial shock of being nominated, and additional height being added to my already heaping pile of hate for Ryder, I formed a quick plan to just bomb the audition, forcing my way to stage crew or some other small role with few lines. Unfortunately, my luck didn’t hold, and my day took another turn for the worst in Chemistry.

“Kristin Hart! Please come up here,” Mrs. Gold called halfway through class. I quickly stood from my desk and walked to the front of the room where she waited for me. Mrs. Gold had assigned book work for us today so she could prepare for what she called “a new teaching method” she wanted to try.

“Kristin, I am partnering you up with Ryder Grim. It has been shown that students can learn better through collaboration. A lot of the students in here really need the boost to their grade, yourself included,” Mrs. Gold lectured sternly, her sharp, beady eyes boring into me over the wiry rim of her glasses. For such a seemingly frail old woman, she was deceptively strong and stern, in fact she was known for making younger students cry. I think she secretly enjoyed it.

“Everyone will meet with their partners outside of school twice a week for extra study time to prepare for the AP exam, this exam is particularly tough and I want everyone to do their best,” She instructed in a brisk, no-room-for-complaints manner.

“Ryder Grim!” Mrs. Gold called. I attempted, very poorly, to hide my horror. This lady actually likes torturing people! Ryder abandoned his book work and walked in that brisk, graceful manner of his to join Mrs. Gold and me at the front of class.

“Mr. Grim, you and Mrs. Hart will meet twice a week outside of school to study Chemistry. You are my best student and highest grade, I trust you two will do excellently together,” Mrs. Gold declared, not bothering to get consent from either of us.

“But-” I finally managed to stutter. Ryder’s jaw tightened, I could almost hear the click of his teeth snapping sharply together, and his eyes held agitation. I was too busy processing my certain doom to appreciate the emotion actually showing on his face.

“Umm, we don’t get along very well,” Ryder said, finally managing a composed, calm voice.

“Right, we don’t get along,” I eagerly agreed, “Surely there’s someone else?” I groped desperately for a way out of this. Ryder nodded his head in support. Wow, what kind of parallel universe was I in where Ryder and I were actually on the same side?

“Work it out. Mr. Grim you will study with Mrs. Hart, both of your grades depend on it,” Mrs. Gold said sternly, staring us down with her dark, evil eyes. I imagined thunder and lightning crashing outside while scary music played. It seemed fitting for my own personal nightmare. Welcome to hell. That’s what I’d told James on his first day; Acting was nothing compared to this.

“You can’t do that!” I blurted, outraged, tossing my hands in the air.

“I believe I just did,” Mrs. Gold retorted with finality as the bell rang. Ryder spun quickly on his heel, collected his things, and stalked out the door. I stared after him, dazed. I walked robotically back to my desk, collected my books, and headed to Sinclair’s class, my mind spinning, searching for any way out of this predicament.

“Today, we start our class project for the beginning of the year,” Sinclair called, walking quickly into the classroom, before the bell rang for a change, and handing out papers with a list of objectives and requirements for the project. I greedily accepted the paper, excited for the interesting project Sinclair undoubtedly had planned. According to his handout, we would pair off, pick one of the subjects he provided, and create a poster board about our research on the subject. I was pondering what subject Natasha and I would choose when a cold hand tapped my shoulder. I jumped and spun around.

“May I speak with you for a second?” Ryder asked, dead faced and monotonous.

“Sure,” I said, confused, following him to the back of class, “What’s up?”

“What two days would you like to meet at the library?” Ryder asked.

“Why didn’t you ask me that at my desk?” I asked sort of dazed, staring at him directly was seriously distracting; maybe that’s why he didn’t look at people when they spoke to him. His angular jaw and pale face were utterly flawless, coupled with intense, bright green eyes and tousled black hair to complete the image. I found myself getting lost in studying him; the sharp angle of his nose, the way his nostrils flared slightly in annoyance, the broadness of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips, the confusing way his simple blue jeans and dark grey shirt accented his form in all the right areas. A sharp impulse to reach out and spread my hands over the expanse of his chest crashed over me without warning. It was like a strange spell always around him, making it impossible to think.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be embarrassed,” He replied smoothly with a shrug. I shook my head firmly to clear these troubling thoughts before my imagination had more time to run off.

“Oh,” I said, stunned that he was actually being considerate, and still slightly captivated by his strange aura, “uh, thanks. Tuesdays and Thursdays right after school work for me,” I answered, wondering how I was going to volunteer at the elementary school Monday, Wednesday, and Friday while being tutored Tuesdays and Thursdays and still have a life.

He gave a brisk nod and turned to leave but stopped short. “Do you have a ride?” He asked, turning back.

“I can probably catch a ride with Natasha or just walk,” I answered nonchalantly with a shrug. For the smallest second, I swore indecision flitted across his face, as he stood half ready to turn away, half facing me clearly wanting to say something. All at once, that carefully articulated blank mask slammed into place, as if Ryder suddenly became aware of the emotion leaking out of him. Suddenly, it was easier to think and look at him, I despised that expression, it was much easier not be captivated by him when filled with annoyance.

“Just when I thought you were finally playing nice the stone statue reappears,” I muttered my thoughts aloud, rolling my eyes.

“Stone statue?” Ryder asked, raising a brow.

“Never mind,” I waved him off.

“Oh, good, you guys have paired off, now everyone has a partner,” Sinclair said walking by; counting all the other students I now noticed had paired off. I hadn’t even heard the bell ring.

“What?!” Ryder and I exclaimed simultaneously, but Sinclair continued on, paying us no mind. We glared at each other before turning and stalking off to our desks. Worst. Day. Ever.

I rushed to the elementary campus after Sinclair’s class, eager to be rid of this cursed day, and knowing I had a regularly scheduled meeting on these Monday Wednesdays, and Fridays I volunteered. My feet carried me, as they often did, already knowing the way without any input from me. When I arrived to the classroom I frequented for my volunteer duties, I found my weekly appointment already waiting for me in our usual spot.

“And that’s how my day went,” I finished my tale, attempting to find a position where I remotely fit in this elementary size school desk. I was coloring and recanting my tales with my one of favorite little boys in the aftercare program, Robbie, in a desk two sizes too small, as we did every day I volunteered since I started this year.

“Sounds like a rough day,” Robbie commented, pushing his wavy, black hair out of his face before resuming coloring an elephant purple. Robbie was a sweet little boy, very mature for his age, every day I volunteered he’d ask me to sit with him and tell him about my day. Even though he was only in second grade, he understood almost everything I talked about.

“That’s an understatement,” I muttered. Robbie never talked too much about himself or his day, even though I asked often, I think something about just listening made him feel better. He always had this sad, lost look in his deep blue eyes, it threw off his childishness and innocence. I worried for him; he didn’t play as much with the other kids; he was too often by himself.

“Alright Robbie, your brother is here, time for you to go,” a teacher called through the doorway. Robbie was the last to leave today, his small footsteps echoed across the room as he walked to the door carrying a too-large yellow backpack.

“Come on, Robbie, I’ll walk you,” I said taking his hand and casting a warm smile down at him. He looked up and gave me one of his rare bright smiles. We didn’t talk; he just happily held my hand. I allowed myself a small, pleased smile, glad that I could make him happy in some little way. It had been too heartbreaking, watching his small form retreat, burdened by his large backpack, and, I had a feeling, other concerns that I could not see.

“Be careful getting home, Robbie,” I said, holding open the door to the parent pick up area open for him.

“Big brother!” Robbie shouted happily, running toward a tall, wiry guy standing in the main office. Robbie’s brother turned, scooped up Robbie, and spun him in the air with a musical laugh. He looked over to thank me and froze. I froze too. I stood, still holding open the door, staring into the bright green eyes of Ryder Grim. Who…laughed? Ryder actually just laughed and smiled and played with his brother. For a second, I thought I might be having a bizarre dream. Or my hallucinations were becoming grossly overactive again.

“This is Kristin, Ryder,” Robbie introduced in a bright voice, immune to the awkwardness of the moment, “She’s my favorite volunteer,” he beamed. My mind finally started working again

“Thank you, Robbie,” I smiled politely, “I actually know your brother, he’s the guy I’ve been telling you about,” I cast a teasing glance toward Ryder.

Robbie looked up at his brother, crossed his arms, and furrowed his brow, “Ryder! How come you’re being so mean to her?” he demanded in earnest anger. Ryder laughed and smiled warmly at him. The hard, stone statue Ryder was nothing compared to warm, fluid, easy-going Ryder. His pale skin glowed with happiness and his love for Robbie was evident in his liquid, bright, green eyes. His angular face and broadness seemed less intimidating now; more relaxed and friendly. If the girls in our class thought he was handsome before, they would faint seeing this sort of flawless.

“She’s much more difficult than she seems, don’t be fooled,” Ryder teased, easily hoisting Robbie on his back, before casting a warm smile my way. I looked away to hide my blush, bracing myself against the door as my knees suddenly turned to jelly. My heart started an erratic dance and I tried to ignore its sudden loudness.

“Thanks so much,” I rolled my eyes, unable to stop from grinning. I stepped aside so he could walk out the door I still held open. Ryder grinned, winked, and walked out the door. I heard it close with a click, but I couldn’t recall releasing it. I stood in the main office for a good five minutes dazed, pondering the events of today and the many faces of Ryder Grim.

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