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absolutelynochillonlydeath · 4 years

Text

Garden Wraith

3. On the Subject of Change...

The learning curve for his new normal was…interesting to say the least. He spent close to a week in the Unknown with Beatrice and her family, though mostly in the forest so as not to freak out her parents. It was there that he learned that his more…otherworldly features came out when he was upset, which then served to upset him more and it took a few minutes for Beatrice to calm him down again. Out of curiosity and a little bit of fear, they felt beneath the curls of his dark brown hair to see if there were any signs of the antlers the Beast had, and to Wirt’s horror and mortification, he felt little nubs growing from the sides of his head. Beatrice simply snorted and compared him to a newborn faun. The subject then came up of the lantern. Both looked at it in contempt since it was a source of so much of their fears.

“So, do you really think that your soul is in there?” Beatrice asked quietly as she looked at the flickering light behind the glass. Wirt looked at the flame nervously before nodding. Since he had gotten there, he felt eerily attached to the lantern in his hands, and if that was any indication, then the whispering he occasionally heard from the trees definitely settled the matter.

“Yeah. It is.” He said softly and Beatrice nodded somberly. Both knew what that meant. The most horrific thing about his nature was now he would have to depend on the oil of Edelwood trees to survive and their source wasn’t the most pleasant of things. Wirt’s skin crawled at the very notion of what he may have to do to survive and the girl patted his back sympathetically. For now, they pushed the thought into the back of their minds. They would find whatever Edelwoods left over from the previous Beast and use Beatrice’s mill to process it like the Woodsman had. For now, though, they focused on other aspects of his powers which still included his odd animal attracting ability that Beatrice laughed at when he mentioned his affinity to birds in particular. That power, though, served to comfort him in that with the old Beast, whenever he was there, it seemed that the area itself was devoid of life. Beatrice only smiled and teased that his poet soul was drawing them there, but both were relieved. If nothing else, it served as a reminder that while Wirt may have the Beast’s powers, they were not the same. Something else that Wirt found out was that he could cloak himself in pure shadow with only his eyes to provide light, much like his predecessor. It freaked them both out but was highly useful when it came to hiding and also teleporting to different points of the Unknown. It was almost something straight out of a horror film and explained as to how the Beast could seemingly appear out of nowhere. Suffice to say, discoveries were made and in between blinking in the Unknown and waking up to the morning light filtering in through his bedroom window, it was difficult to keep track of which reality he was in when he awoke.

A transition period was the best way he could describe this part of his life. It was a bit stressful and jarring and confusing as he switched between realities and realized that time was inconsequential in the Unknown. They lived in perpetual stillness since they were already dead, so the passing of seasons were only important for the holidays and crop gathering. Due to the growing confusion, Wirt started keeping a notebook with him to track the days and give him reminders as to what was going on. To his surprise, it seemed like if he slept with an object in hand and had the desire to bring the object with him, they would also show up with him in the Unknown. The same was true in reverse. It was startling, but useful and made his life easier when waking up again. Sadly, the transition not only affected him mentally and emotionally, it also attracted plenty of attention from his family. He was already under scrutiny for how different he now treated Greg. It was a welcome change, but Wirt swore that his mom sprinkled holy water on him one morning during breakfast. They weren’t really religious, it was more of a habit from his Irish grandparents and great grandparents than anything else, but it was the principle of the matter. Either way, his stepfather snickered and Greg asked if it was alright if he could splash water on Wirt too.

Speaking of Greg, the boy immediately caught on to his elder brother’s weird behavior. It was almost impossible for Wirt to keep anything from the child, especially since he knew that the younger boy only wanted to help and keep him safe, but Wirt didn’t want to scare him. Wirt now knew from experience and a general curiosity that he could manifest his more supernatural traits into reality and it sent him into a small panic attack in the bathroom that made him realize that his eyes were glowing brightly and his anxiety was what was making it manifest. After riding it out and calming down, his eyes dulled back to their normal grey and left him paranoid as to when it would happen again. He didn’t know when his eyes would flare at school or around Greg and that made him avoid his family for a while until he had another talk with Beatrice. The girl simply rolled her eyes and smacked him upside the head.

“Oww! What was that for?!” he complained, rubbing his head and she continued to glare at him.

“You doofus. You need to tell him or you’ll only make him more worried.” She huffed and he looked down and shook his head.

“I-If it tell him, he’ll only be more scared. I promised him that the Beast wouldn’t come back and now…that’s…it’s…what I am.” He said quietly, hands clenched and trembling at his hides. His mind flashed back to their moment in the hospital. The small boy had expressed his hidden fear so well. Until that moment, Wirt hadn’t known that Greg had realized the true danger he was in. The boy had such a positive outlook on their time in the Unknown and looked jovial through most of it, even when facing down the Beast. Wirt thought that the seven-year-old just didn’t understand what was going on, but Greg was much smarter than his brother gave him credit for. That moment told Wirt everything. Greg was strong and silly and brave because that was how he could process what was happening. He took enjoyment where he could because everything else was terrifying. He may not have had the full understanding of how the Beast was tricking him or how exactly to escape, but he knew that something bad was happening and that the Unknown wasn’t where they were supposed to be. Still, throughout all that, he never lost hope. Not like Wirt did. Greg had explained to him in the early hours of the morning when he snuck into the teenager’s bed after a nightmare what had happened in the time he went missing. The Queen of Clouds, his chance to escape, his wish for Wirt, and the ultimate deal with the Beast in an attempt at release. Wirt shuddered and hugged the boy tightly through whispered apologies and sobs. That wonderful, kind child had been willing to throw away every chance he had to let his older brother go free and Wirt had never felt lower. He promised again to himself that night that he wouldn’t allow his little brother to feel such terror ever again.

Beatrice stifled a sigh at her friend’s drama, but she understood where he was coming from. Her siblings, as much as they annoyed her, she would defend with her life and she knew that Wirt was the same with Greg. Still, she highly doubted that the boy would reject his brother over this and she opened her mouth to say as much.

“Wirt, if nothing else along your little adventure, I’d like to think that I got to know your brother pretty well. Does he seem like the type to be afraid of his dorky older brother? He’s much braver than you and as soon as he figures out that you’re the same lame guy, he’ll be fine.” She said gruffly, placing her hands on his shoulders. Wirt trembled under her hands and shook his head again.

“But what if he doesn’t? He was so scared, Beatrice! I-I-I don’t think I could handle it if he looked at me like he looked at the Beast…” he whispered sadly, his eyes now flickering with pearlescent colors. He could feel the black hazing over the edges of his vision as his breathing got more ragged and for a moment, he felt himself between asleep and awake, his awareness torn between his in the Unknown body and his body in the living world from the stress he felt.

“Oh, no you don’t! You’re not waking up till we’ve finished this conversation!” Beatrice called out, now crushing the shorter teen in a bear hug that knocked the breath out of him. In retrospect, that really should not have worked, but it did and when his vision cleared and air was properly flowing through his lungs, all he saw were the red curls of Beatrice’s hair.

“S-s-sorry…” he mumbled and clung tightly to her desperately as if she was his center of gravity and without her, he could be left to drift out into the vast sky or sink into the cold ground.

“Don’t apologize for that. I get that you’re worried, even if I think it’s over nothing.” She murmured back, her grip not loosening, but she was now rubbing soothing circles over his spine.

“It’s not nothing. Its Greg.” Wirt protested and Beatrice shook her head.

“You’re underestimating him. The kid’s got an unhealthy hero worship of you and I really doubt that a little thing like accidentally getting a freaky wooden death spirit’s powers is gonna deter him. He’s way more persistent than that.” he huffed, chuckling over her thoughts. In the time she got to know the two boys, she had tried her best not to get attached to them, but she had and thought of the boy as one of her own little brothers. He was charming in his odd childlike logic, was loyal to a fault, and his positivity was endearing. Even when she betrayed him, she knew he would forgive her and it made her guilty to think of afterwards. The boy was strong and resilient and there was no way he would be afraid. Not of Wirt. Never of Wirt.

“Just trust me and tell him. I guarantee he won’t be afraid. And if he is and things don’t go well, I’ll help you run away or something, okay?” she asked and Wirt blinked in surprise, pulling away from her embrace.

“Wait, what?” he asked, startled, but the iridescent colors were gone now.

“I mean, it would be kind of pathetic to run away from a seven-year-old, but I wouldn’t put it past you. Don’t think you’d make it very far either, but hey, you’re a stubborn jerk who beat a monster, so who knows? Still, running away from a kid is pretty lame. And that kid is also Greg, so I think he’d find you pretty easy too.” She continued on as Wirt started to sputter in indignation. There we go. Rile him up. If the gentle approach wasn’t breaking through to him, she would appeal to his stubborn streak. That and she was out of sentimental words for the week. She swore this kid was making her soft.

“Wh-what? No I wouldn’t! I would just, y’know, never talk to him again. Like, ever.” He stammered and Beatrice rolled her eyes, hand on her hips.

“You really think that’s gonna work with Greg? The human chatterbox and friend machine? Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna work.” She scoffed and Wirt sighed, nodding in agreement and kicking at the snow at his feet. She was right. Scared or not, repulsed or not, there was no stopping Gregory Cowan from opening his mouth and commenting about whatever was on his mind. The only times that Wirt had ever heard the boy silent was when he was either eating or sleeping and even then he still had a propensity to open his mouth and let sound come out.

“You’re right, you’re right… I just…I’m trying to be a good big brother to make up for the terrible one I’ve been for half of my life and all of his life. I just don’t want to scare him and never get the chance to make it up to him…” he said softly and Beatrice nodded.

“And you will. Just tell him the truth. He won’t leave you.” He said firmly and Wirt took a deep breath, feeling himself being firmly settled into the Unknown again, the edges of his vision clearing and he nodded.

“You’re right. I’ll…tell him…. He deserves to know.” He relented and Beatrice nodded in agreement, patting his shoulder.

“Of course I’m right. My ideas are always right.” She said and Wirt rolled his eyes.

“Adelaide was a good idea?” he asked and the girl’s cheeks flushed bright red.

“Ok, but that was once!” she argued and Wirt’s skepticism shot through the metaphorical roof along with his eyebrow.

“Getting turned into a bird, stealing from Endicott, sneaking onto the frog ferry…” he trailed on and the elder girl growled and slapped a hand over his smirking mouth.

“Hush. We don’t talk about those! And don’t chance the subject! We’re talking about you and Greg.” She said sternly, though the blush remained on her face and was now going to the tips of her ears. The mention of the subject at hand was sobering though and the smile soon faded from the boy’s face.

“I need to tell him.” he said quietly, resigned to his fate. Around them, the Unknown swayed with a phantom breeze, the snow blanketing whatever noise there might have been.

Wirt felt nauseous and he jittered in place on his bed. He had woken up that day with full determination to tell Greg about him, but that resolve was shaken as soon as he saw the boy at the table for breakfast. He had since shut himself up in his room, pacing nervously and trying not to imagine how much his eyes were glowing. He wanted to tell him. He needed to tell him. but the doubt still lingered in the back of his mind. Luckily, or unluckily for his nerves, his indecisiveness was no match for the curiosity and worry of a seven-year-old. The light knocking on the door was the only warning the teen got before the child burst into his room with all the enthusiasm and eagerness of a puppy.

“Wirt! Wirt! This is urgent business! Jason Funderburker is in need of your affection cuz it’s been so long!” the boy yelled, holding the frog up and waving him in his elder brother’s face.

“Wait-Greg-what?” Wirt stuttered and Greg climbed up on the bed, seating himself next to the other with a look of exasperation on his youthful face.

“We want to spend time in you! You’ve been in here so long, I thought you’d have grown a long white beard! Like Santa! Or a really old guy!” the boy exclaimed and Wirt rolled his eyes, chuckling.

“I haven’t been in here that long. I can’t grow a beard that fast!” he disputed and Greg looked at him skeptically, poking an inquisitive finger at his chin. Wirt pushed his hand away but the boy was persistent, continuing to poke him till Wirt was now actively trying to wrestle him to the bed in order to poke his chin. It sent both of them into a fit of giggles and they heard Jason Funderburker croak along with them. Finally they stopped to catch their breaths, the remnants of laughter leaving them.

“So, can you tell me why you’re not happy now?” Greg suddenly asked and Wirt froze in place but tried his best to force his body to relax and sound nonchalant.

“Wha-what do you mean? I, uh, I’m fine. It’s just the whole snow on the ground thing is all!” he squeaked, failing at looking casual. Greg didn’t look convinced and sat on his chest.

“Are you mad at me again?” he asked quietly and Wirt shot up immediately, practically bowling the boy off him before he snatched him close to hug him.

“What?! Of course not!” he shouted and Greg hugged him back tightly.

“So why are you sad?” the boy asked and Wirt took a breath, steeling what nerves he had and looking the boy dead in the eye.

“I-I’m not sad. Just a little, um…scared? I guess? But it’s nothing to do with you! You didn’t do anything wrong.” Wirt said frantically, the words tumbling out in a rush. Greg, for his part, simply looked confused.

“Greg, I promised I’d protect you no matter what. I don’t want to scare you, but I-I-I think you need to know…”he said quietly and Greg’s eyes seemed to light up in understanding.

“Oh. Is it about how you have the same pretty eyes the Beast had?” he asked innocently end Wirt nodded before freezing.

“Exact-wait, what? You know about that?” Wirt gasped and Greg snorted with laughter.

“Yupp! I saw your eyes when I woke you up a while ago, but you didn’t know yet. I’m glad you do now. Why do you have them? Do I have them? Are my eyes beautiful too?” the boy asked curiously, mind now wandering off in his own world and hugging his frog in contemplation. Wirt felt whatever tension and anxiety he had wash out of him, leaving him limp and almost collapsing back onto his bed. For lack of a better word, he was stunned. Greg knew? He had known for a long time and hadn’t said anything just to make Wirt comfortable.

He really did have the best brother, though he didn’t appreciate the anxiety that came from all of this.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? Weren’t you scared?” Wirt asked in a breathless rush, hugging his brother tightly. Greg looked up at him and shrugged, though he had a serious look on his face.

“I didn’t want to scare you. You were already not sleeping, so I didn’t want to make it worse.” the boy said simply and Wirt could only blink in shock.

“You…you weren’t scared? Of, y’know, what I am? Of my eyes?” the teen asked softly and Greg’s eyebrows scrunched a little in confusion and contemplation.

“Why would I be? I think you were more scared than I was.” Greg said innocently and once again, Wirt hugged the younger boy close, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“Thank you…” he whispered and Greg hugged back tightly, enjoying the affection and patting his brother’s back.

“No need to thank me, brother o’ mine!” he said cheerfully, but there was also relief running through his tiny body. He knew that the Beast was gone, the faint memories of his semi-conscious state echoing with the dying screams of the monster as its soul was snuffed out reminding him every time he dared remember it, but he wouldn’t deny that the glowing eyes of his brother had worried him. Now he knew that he shouldn’t have worried. Beast or not, weird tree powers or not, this was still his older, worried brother and nothing would change that.

“So does that mean you can be a tree now? Can you turn other people into trees? You really shouldn’t do that cuz it’s not nice.” Greg asked, continuing on with his musings as Wirt could only listen and laugh, the relief leaving him lose and willing to muse with him about his newfound powers.

The next two years until the next big change in the brothers’ lives was a series of highs and lows filled with making better friends, two different comings out and the parties that came afterwards, meeting witches, learning magic, and turning said friends into a makeshift witch coven. Turning fifteen was stressful in many ways and Wirt felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown from the secrets he was carrying and finally gave in when his friends finally confronted him. Luckily, both of his “coming out” gatherings went well. Sara and the rest of their friends took to him being a weird death tree being rather quickly, asking him questions and sympathizing about his and Greg’s trip to the Unknown. Telling them was also incredibly helpful in keeping his secret while in school since his anxiety tended to make his eyes flicker iridescent. Compared to that particularly nerve wracking reveal, Wirt’s sexuality seemed like nothing. By that, he meant that he still almost passed out from nerves and was only calmed down when his friends and Greg all surrounded him in a group hug.

Both brothers grew closer through all of that, learning Wirt’s new powers together with the younger boy delighting in each ability he showed. Their practice was done at the cemetery with the now dubbed “witch’s circle” among the graves of people they knew in the Unknown, the eyes of the dead watching Wirt’s progress with approval as he changed into something more, better, than the Beast his predecessor was. But that was a story for another time. In his sixteenth year, Wirt would start a new journey and it started with a few casual words spoken by his mother in the early morning over a bowl of cereal.

“Jonathan and I will be going on a honeymoon soon.” His mother announced and Wirt could only stare at her back in a sleepy haze, wondering if he heard right. “Ohhh! What’s what? Are you gonna dip the moon in honey? Is that why it goes yellow sometimes?” A now nine-year-old Greg asked excitedly from next to the elder boy, syrup from his pancakes sticking to his cheeks.

“No, Greg. It’s what married people do after they get married to, uh, spend time together.” Wirt answered quickly, refraining from telling most of the truth and hoping his explanation didn’t come out as awkward as he thought it was. Luckily, his brother seemed to gloss over that fact.

“Oh. But haven’t you been married for a while? Why now? And when? Can we go too?” the boy continued with his slew of questions. Their mother chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“Well, he and I have been planning it for a while but haven’t really found a good time to do it since the marriage and Greg’s birth was so close together.” She explained and turned back to the stove. “And no, honey. Like Wirt said, it’s for married people only. And we’ll be doing it over the summer!” She announced cheerfully, though Greg pouted in displeasure at not being able to go anywhere.

“Oh, well, um, good for you guys, I guess? So, does that mean that we’ll be, um, alone for a while in the summer?” Wirt asked and felt nervous when his mother sighed and turned to him, taking on the same nervous look he usually had. “Well, see, that’s what I wanted to talk to you both about.” She said hesitantly and that immediately knocked all tiredness from his body and he sat up straighter.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, at first we were planning on making it a small trip for a week, but then we got so excited at the thought and since you two were getting along so much better recently, we figured that it would be fine to leave you two longer than that.” She rambled, smiling sheepishly as she explained in a rush. “Not without a guardian, of course! Jonathan has an uncle up in Oregon that we are sending you to and it might be an adventure for you boys too! Along with it being a good opportunity to get to know more family!” she finished and now both boys were stunned, though Greg recovered quicker, his trademark enthusiasm taking hold.

“Ohh! Really?! That’s amazing! We get to go up to Oregon for the summer? We get to meet another uncle! Maybe he’ll be an uncle like Uncle Endicott, Wirt! Do you think he has a big mansion too? Can I bring Jason Funberburker with us?” Greg burbled out excitedly.

“Wait, wait, wait. What? An uncle? Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, not that it’s a bad thing to meet relatives, or that you aren’t entitled to having some time for yourselves, because that’s good in theory, but we haven’t even met the man. I can take care of Greg here while you’re gone, so you don’t need to send us all the way to Oregon!” Wirt rambled right back to his mother, his anxieties flooding his thoughts. What if the man didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like Greg? Wirt didn’t think that would happen since everyone liked Greg, but it was still a fear. What if he didn’t like them bringing a frog with them? And what about his friends and his lack of summer plans he wanted to make with them? And what about the poetry he would have to hide from him? And his abilities! How would he manage to hide that when they were as blaringly obvious? He hid his face in his hands to cover his eyes as the stress seemed to work through his chest.

“Oh, sweetie! It’ll be alright!” his mother quickly rushed over and hugged him and he sank into her embrace gratefully, feeling the comfort beat back his fear.

“I know you aren’t comfortable with new places, but Oregon is a beautiful place! It has plenty of forests that you boys are fond of and would definitely appeal to your poetic soul, honey! And from what Jonathan has told me, his uncle is a little eccentric, but very nice, so there’s no need to worry!” she said reassuringly and pet his hair. Wirt felt himself relaxing with the attention and huffed a little when Greg joined in on the comfort.

“It’s just…are you sure we can’t just stay here? I’m sixteen. I can take care of Greg by myself. Don’t you trust me?” He said quietly as he looked up at his mother and she sighed and shook her head, dropping a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Wirt. I know you’re a responsible young man, but I can’t just leave you alone for the whole summer unsupervised. Neither Jonathan or I have any relatives here and we’d both feel better if there was someone to look after you both.” She said softly, petting his hair. Wirt sighed and felt the trembling from her hand. He inherited his nervous nature from someone and it as only now that he was calming down that he realized his mother was just as freaked out about this as he was. Feeling his panic ebb, his shoulders slumped and he nodded slowly, looking down. He couldn’t deny her this. Not when she was so excited and he knew that if he really pushed this she would stay with them instead of going on her trip with his step-dad so they wouldn’t be left alone.

“…so it’s an uncle of Jonathan’s?” he asked quietly as he looked up again and he could feel her mother relax at his acceptance.

“Yupp! So, he would technically be your and Greg’s great uncle!” she said brightly, giving his shoulder squeeze and sending a grateful smile his way. He smiled back slightly in acknowledgement and returned to his now soggy cereal. “Really? So how is he a great uncle? Is that just the next step from a good uncle?” Greg asked curiously and made Wirt roll his eyes before patting his head.

“That’s not what mom means, Greg.” He explained and Greg looked at him skeptically.

“Are you sure? Just normal uncles are pretty good, so I can only expect that the uncles of our parents are great since they’re older.” He explained in the only way that an elementary school child could. With that, breakfast was concluded and more details of the plan were divulged and come the end of August, their bags were packed and it was a plane and a bus to their new destination. It was certainly an adventure to get their all on its own with Wirt keeping track of their traveling schedules, trying his best to keep a hyperactive Greg entertained until he finally crashed from the jetlag, checking a frog through the airport and bus terminals, and subsequently keeping his brother away from said frog while on the plane. On the bus, Wirt held his brother close while he slept, holding his frog like a stuffed animal, and looked at the ever-changing terrain through the window. The trees multiplied as time went on, growing thicker and thicker as they got closer, and he let his mind wander to something more poetic. The trees were different that those of the Unknown, but they seemed to give off a similar feeling of mystery, like they contained secrets that they dare not divulge for fear of retribution. Or perhaps they kept the secrets from those that were unworthy of learning them? Either way, he could feel this soul in the lantern flutter in excitement at the prospect of exploring this new forest and finding new inspiration. His mother was right, it truly was a beautiful place.

“Mmmm….Wirt?” came the sleepy voice beside him and Wirt turned to see his brother eyes flutter open and a yawn escape his lips.

“Right here, Greg.” He assured the younger boy and Greg relaxed from his slight tension.

“Are we there yet?” he asked and Wirt shook his head.

“No. Not yet. But I think we’re almost there. Look at how many trees there are.” He said and Greg brightened immediately, climbing over his brother’s lap to get a better look outside.

“Wow! There’re more trees here than back home! It’s like the Unknown! But the trees are different!” he said excitedly. In the recent years he had become fixated on learning the different types of trees and Wirt didn’t doubt that he could name every single tree in this forest.

“Oh yeah? Well, we’ll go exploring for a bit after we settle in, okay?” he assured Greg and the younger boy smiled brightly, squeezing his frog to him.

“You hear that, Jason Funderburker? We get to go on forest adventures with Wirt again!” he said excitedly and practically vibrated in place from excitement as soon as they saw the big sign passing them by, announcing their destination. Wirt huffed a laugh and gathered their things as the bus slowed, rumbling to a stop at what seemed like just the side of the road where a single car was parked.

“Oh. I guess that must be him. U-unless there’s someone else waiting for someone else here. I mean, that would probably make sense since we’re not the only ones on the bus that are probably headed here but maybe it is and-“

“Wirt, look! It’s our Uncle!” Greg cut his older brother off gleefully and dashed down the aisle to exit the bus.

“Wait, Greg!” Wirt yelled, scooping up their backpacks before dashing after the excitable child. The other riders looked at him in sympathy and let him pass which Wirt felt grateful for and he stumbled out of the bus as Greg waved excitedly with his frog.

“Hi, Uncle! It’s nice to meet you! I’m Greg and this is Wirt and this is Jason Funderburker! We’re here for the summer!” Greg announced happily to the two figures leaving the car.

“Greg! Don’t just go running off!” Wirt scolded before straightening himself out and settling his eyes on the thinner of the two older men. He recognized him vaguely from the picture Jonathan showed them before they left, though he was definitely more aged than the picture and there was something in his eyes that Wirt was a bit wary about.

“Hello, Sir. Thank you for having us here.” Wirt said politely and the other elder man scoffed a little. The boy’s Uncle gave a pleasant chuckle and waved his hand dismissively.

“Aww shucks, there’s no need fer any “sir” nonsense! The name’s McGucket. Fiddleford McGucket or just Uncle Fiddleford to you. Welcome to Gravity Falls, kids!”

AO3 handle: AbsolutelyNoChill_OnlyDeath

#over the garden wall #gravity falls #beast!wirt #Gregory Cowan #Wirt #fiddleford mcgucket

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self-preservation-fic · 3 years

Note

hello. i just miss these two. any ideas what they're up to? <3

I sure do! I’m pretty busy with the other fandom I’m in at the moment, but I keep going back and working on the second part of this fic because it’s been my baby for forever and I’m not about to let it go :’)

Where the sequel begins, the guys are on Christmas break, Marcus is with his parents + sister, Oliver is off with his own family. The second fic is going to have a darker tone with some family drama. (And some Oliver POV 👀) The main plot will centre around Marcus making his decision on what to do after her graduates and whether he wants to help the Order of the Phoenix out or not have any part in the conflict to come.

Here’s a snippet from the beginning of the fic, I’m rating it M for some not-explicit sexual content. Please forgive any grammar/spelling errors, it’s still rough!

+++

Marcus let his door swing open on silent hinges. His room was way cleaner than Marcus had ever kept it. All of his personal belongings tucked neatly away and the covers pulled taut across so taut across the bed he wondered if they were meant to pin him there. He felt like an adult stuck in a dollhouse and this room wasn’t his anymore. Everything of value he’d brought with him to Hogwarts, he didn’t trust it here alone.

Marcus was careful to hang up his suit before pulling on sweats and rifling through his drawers for a shirt. All of his pent up worrying from the train ride here had manifested itself in a nearly compulsive need to run. He had to dig into the bowels of his drawers to find an appropriately ratty t-shirt.

As he searched, he could pick out the careful tread of his mother’s footsteps down the hall. Drafty old houses with minimal insulation were perfect for eavesdropping and terrible for keeping secrets.

“Come in,” he called, snagging a t-shirt when he heard the wrap of her knuckles against the door. He made sure to raise his voice just loud enough for her to hear, not more.

The door creaked on its hinges. “I just want to know--” her voice was cut off by a sharp intake of breath. Marcus froze, shirt halfway on, he was about to hall it over his head when his mother’s voice stopped him.

“Marcus, honey, what happened?”

Shit, he knew what she saw and couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t pretty, the round pink scar on his right shoulder, the skin raised and puckered like a muggle bullet wound. Magic always leaves a mark, Marcus thought ruefully.

“What did you do?” she asked and Marcus could feel the prickle of heat creeping down his back.

“It’s nothing Mom, it was stupid.” He assured, tugging his shirt the rest of the way down and turning to meet her gaze.

Her eyes stuck to his shoulder as if she could see right through him. “That doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“I was protecting a friend,” he settled, knowing she wouldn’t drop it until he gave her something.

That pricked her interests. “Do I know this friend?”

“No--I don’t know--maybe.” He turned back around and busied himself with grabbing random items of clothing from his luggage for her to give the house elf to wash. No matter where you lived and who you descended from, everyone knew everyone else's business at Hogwarts. He wondered if he told her Oliver’s name if she’d remember going to school with his mother. He wondered how long she’d try to pretend it was okay that they talked.

“Okay,” she acquiesced, quietly, and he let out a nearly restrained sigh of quiet relief.

He handed her the messy bundle he’d collected, and when she took it from him her hands trapped his, holding him tight and forcing him to look her in the eyes for the first time since he’d arrived. Their warm hazel had turned watery. “You know you can always talk to me, I love you so much.” Her bottom lip wobbled slightly and Marcus sighed.

“Mom--” Detaching her hands gently from where they gripped him, he pulled her in over the laundry. She was a tall woman, but even with the bundle pressed between them she still felt small. “Of course I know,” he said, trying his best not to ruffle her perfectly waved hair.

“I just wish you’d write more,” She whispered and he swallowed, sometimes he forgot how long it must be for her in between visits. Time always flew by at Hogwarts and Marcus had always been shit at writing, like he was shit at reading, and it was just easier not to do it most of the time even if he did have something to say. He was blanking now. Lips glued shut.

“I know, I’m sorry.” was all that he could say. It felt lame out in the air between him. All that worry had transformed into leaden guilty in his stomach. There had hardly been any room left to breathe this year between school quidditch, his father--Oliver-- somehow between all of that part of him had forgotten about his mom. “Sorry,” he repeated, and it still doesn't feel like enough.

When she pulled away she waved her hand as if she could dispel her own emotion. Her voice was still thin when she spoke. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just being silly.”

He gripped her shoulders, giving them a squeeze as if he could instill in her the confidence he himself didn’t feel. “Mom, you're not being silly. I should have written, I’m sorry. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a nod and he let her shoulders go. The hand not clutching the bundle drifted up to brush his hair back and down the side of his face. “Oh, sweetheart wish you’d talk to me.”

Marcus clenched his eyes shut. He was really not prepared to do this now. “Mom--”

“Estelle!” Marcus felt her fingers reflexively tense against his cheek at his father’s voice calling from bellow-stairs. He opened his eyes, standing up straighter, not realizing that he’d sagged into her palm.

Stepping back her lip caught between her teeth and he gave her a smile, saying in the most reassuring voice he could muster. “It's alright, I’m okay.”

With a hesitant nod, she turned, stepping from the room and closing the door softly between them. He waited until he heard her heels clicking back down the hall.

Sagging against the door, Marcus let his head thump back against the door. Pinching his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his now, he suppressed the quelling frustration and anger under his skin, picturing instead a pair of deft arms holding him up. He let out a shuddering breath. He couldn’t leave, he couldn’t and it made him nauseous.

Fishing a flimsy chain out of the pocket of his sweats, Marcus inspected the transfigured metal chain with a small lion gangling from it once again as if he hadn't spent the entire train ride doing so when he thought nobody was watching. It had meant to be a joke, Oliver had produced it from seemingly nowhere and presented it to him with a wry smile. It was the sort of trinket you’d find in Hogsmead shops selling quidditch memorabilia.

“So you don’t forget me,” Oliver had said with an undercurrent of hopeful honesty. He was laid out on Marcus’ bed in his dormitory, looking very at home there, Marcus sat cross-legged on the mattress beside him.

“You shouldn't have,” Marcus had said drily, eyeing the lion as it gave a soundless roar. He put it on anyways, because it made Oliver smile. “And I didn’t get you anything?” Marcus had said, bending over to crowd him against the mattress to press a quick succession of messy kisses to Oliver's face as he had half-heartedly tried to escape.

Eventually, he had stopped the assault, keeping close so that he could more easily study Oliver’s face. It was only Christmas, but he didn’t want to forget a single thing about it. Slowly the smile Marcus had put there slipped from Olver’s face. A warm, square hand reached up to smooth the hair from his face. Marcus allowed himself to melt into the touch, knowing that soon it wouldn’t be there at all. “No, really, you shouldn’t have,” he had said, whispering even though no one was around. He wanted Oliver to know the words were only for him. “Could never forget you.”

The hand in his hair brought him down until his face was pressed to the hinge of Oliver’s jaw, breathing in the comforting scent of his body and trying to pretend he wasn’t about to fall apart.

Fingers carded through his hair as his breath caught and held in his throat. Wrapping one hand around Oliver’s waist the other wormed up under his sweater to feel the warm skin and smooth planes of muscle that hid there. He knew he wasn’t making any noises--he was barely breathing as it was--and yet Oliver was still murmuring shhh noises into his hair.

“Marc, hey, look at me.” Marcuse reluctantly pulled back, just enough to do so while still keeping Oliver close as they lay on their sides. Oliver worried at his lip, his fingers continuing their trail from his brow, down the uneven line of his nose, to the thin set of his lips and the dip in his chin before Marcus caught it and tangled it in his own.

“Hey,” Oliver repeated, looking hesitant and apprehension welled up in Marcus’ chest before he finally stopped worrying at his lip and squeezed Marcus’ hand hard enough to almost be painful. “I love you.”

The rushing sound in his head was so loud he barely heard the pained noise that ripped from his chest. Bending down to press his mouth firmly against Oliver’s own, his brain hazy with want, he repeated I love you, I love you, I love you--over and over in his head. Oliver opened for him willingly, making soft noises against his mouth, his fingers tightening and tugging lightly in Marcus’ hair. Tilted his head, he let himself sink into the soft warmth of his mouth, pushing his hands up further to feel Oliver’s ribs expand and contract tightly under his fingers.

Pulling back he gasped. “I--I--” the words getting trapped in his throat.

“Shhh,” Oliver said, sweeping his thumb over the swell of his bottom lip, then up over the arch of his cheeks. “It’s okay I know.”

Kissing wetly over his jaw and down his neck in apology. He has so many things to apologize for. Rucking his hands up to brush a thumb over his nipple, Oliver’s breath hitched and he full body tensed before relaxing boneless into the bed with a sigh. Pressing a line of kisses down his breast bone, Oliver arched into his touch as he reached the soft dip of his stomach nosing at the fine line of hair there.

Marcus wished it didn’t have to be like this, he wondered how long Oliver would put up with it, how far his patience would stretch. Tugging on his hair, Marcus looked up and this time Oliver’s eyes weren't hesitant, but fierce. “I love you,” Oliver said and Marcus felt it burn hot and quick in his chest. Overwhelmed, he gripped Oliver’s hand tighter before pulling it away to make quick work of his belt.

Mouthing a wet spot into the fabric of his boxers, Marcus lingered there before hooking his fingers in and tugging it down. He sucked a possessive bruise into the soft skin of Oliver’s abdomen as he panted wetly above him. Marcus comes with Oliver’s hands wound in his hair, his body curled taught over him and a hand down the front of his pants. He let Oliver come in his mouth, breathing “I love you’s” in a mantra around shaky moans. Marcus squeezed his eyes through the wetness prickling at the corners and moaned in turn.

Marcus blinked back to the present, thumbing the lion in consideration. Everything about it was just so achingly Oliver. Moving over to the mirror over his dresser, he fastened it around his neck. The chain was short but just long enough to tuck under the collar of his shit, hidden away and safe. The metal was cold against his skin, pressing his palm over it, he felt the indentation through the fabric as it slowly grew skin-warm, a heavy comfort against the hollow of his throat.

#flintwood #Fic #My fic

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minniepetals · 5 years

Text

when the rain gets rough

— summary: when you try to voice out your feelings and they get too busy when a deal goes wrong, the rain gets rough as a fight escalates.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff / poly!au / mafia!au

— word count:3.2k

— warnings: fights, insecurities thrown in the mix (don’t worry, it’s a happy ending)

What was worse than seeing your tears was knowing that the tears were because of them.

They could deal with anyone that had hurt you, take care of that person in a mere second with the snap of their fingers. But if it ever came down to the cause of your tears being their fault, an apology alone was something they knew would never be forgiven for their actions and words done and said to you.

They knew you. You were a forgiving person who was too kind and precious for the Earth itself. You forgave easily, shed tears at dumb drama shows and cat videos, and would drop anything you were doing to help someone else. They knew you sometimes resented yourself for that, deeming yourself a weak person because you could never say no to someone else. They knew you hated easily giving in to people who didn't deserve your forgiveness. They knew that sometimes you just hoped you could stop being so kind towards others. And last of all, they knew that despite the font you'd display, you hated getting taken advantage of for your kind and pure heart.

So why, why, had they gone and messed it all up when they were the only ones that you could show your vulnerable and whiny side to? Why had they shut you away from their worlds completely, thinking it'd benefit you because they didn't want you involved and ended up only hurting you further?

You felt isolated, alone and forsaken for weeks and they couldn't figure that out because for one, they were too busy to focus on giving you time and attention, and two, because you weren't one to voice out your concern that easily because you had the insecurities of being a burden and an annoyance towards others.

Yet that was the exact response they had given you, letting out one of your biggest insecurities because frustration on a deal hit them too hard.

"Y/N, don't be annoying and go back to your room. We're busy trying to deal with important things here," Namjoon said in a straining calm voice. You heard it, his tense voice trying not to lash out so you took a step back from them, eyes cast to the floor. It wasn't much, they thought nothing of Namjoon's words because at least he wasn't shouting them at you, right?

Wrong.

Because no matter how words were said, it had still hurt you.

Among indicating that you were an annoyance, he also stabbed another knife in your heart by telling you that they had important things to deal with and your feelings could wait. As if your feelings weren't important. As if they had completely disregarded your own existence for the past few weeks and the only time they really said anything was that.

So you gave them a little bow of apology, telling them in a small voice that you were sorry to disturb them before walking out the office to leave for the bedroom.

What they didn't notice was your voice cracking just a bit, or that while your head tilted down to the floor, tears had welled up in your eyes and your heart dropped a few more times at Namjoon's calm yet harsh words. They should have ran after you or at least walk into the room after they've somewhat dealt with the deals and apologized.

But no, you stayed in your room for hours, waiting, hoping, praying that they'd at least return because it's been a while since you've gone to sleep with someone at your side. Yet once again that night, the bed was cold and you huddled up against the blanket, crying yourself to sleep.

You tried again the next day, though more hesitant because you were afraid already annoying them the day before would make it worse. Yet someone told you that communication was key to a strong relationship, so you brought up the courage to try and say something again.

They didn't know why, why you suddenly trying to get their attention had annoyed them. They loved it before, indulged in your cute hesitation on wanting their love and attention, but with another deal gone wrong and someone betraying them, your voice itself made them angry.

"Will you stop being annoying and clingy for one second?"

Stabbed in the heart.

"I just wanted to talk," you told the boss, arms hugging yourself because you knew you were already ticking him off. But you couldn't back down, no, they were your boyfriends and you needed to work things out before everything fell apart. They loved you and they've always listened.

"We can talk about whatever you want after this is dealt with," Yoongi grunted. "There are more important things that needs our attention, Y/N."

Another stab.

"It's been weeks, Yoongi," you pled.

He threw his hands up in the air before settling them against his hips. "Well what do you want us to do, Y/N? You think whatever you're concerned about is more important than this?"

Another stab.

"You can't just talk to me for just a moment?"

"We don't have a moment to spare!" Jimin fumed and for a second, you flinched back but of course, they didn't notice.

But you knew you couldn't back away. "Our relationship is at stake and you can't even look at me for even one second?!"

Normally they'd be surprised you would ever raise your voice at them but then again, anger was a scary thing. If love could blind one person, then anger could blind that love as well.

"The only reasons our relationship would be at stake would be because of you!" Taehyung accused.

Another deep stab.

"You can't just put the blame on me because you're too racked up in that deal of yours. I'm hurting."

Hoseok stood up from his seat. "And our business is hurting because of dumb people like you who can't do their job right and are just useless!"

Useless...He called you useless.

Another insecurity nailed in the spot, another stab in the heart.

"Don't compare me to your subjects," you growled.

"We wouldn't have to if you weren't acting this way."

"So now I'm just a worthless piece of human being that ranks as low as your newbies?"

"What more do you want from us, Y/N?!" Another flinch going unnoticed so you ignored it too, watching the eyes of Jin intensify. "We've given you everything you've wanted but the second you aren't satisfied, you become a spoiled clingy brat and come running to us. Can't you see that we're busy and trying to deal with something more important than your stupid feelings?"

How much worse could it get?

"I don't want anything from you," you argued back, "the only thing I want is your love. That's all I need."

"Then go find it somewhere else!"

That time they saw it, saw the way you flinched away from Namjoon. He hadn't meant to make it seem like he was about to hurt you, but you mistook him trying to run his hand along his hair to him about to raise a hand at you. They finally noticed the tears running down your pink cheeks, saw how plush and puffy your lips have become, and the way your hands hid your head back as a defensive mechanism from the leader.

The silence dragged on for a while and all they could hear was the ragged breathing and your sniffles.

"Y/N-"

"Don't come near me, you're scaring me," you demanded, voice breaking as you took a few more steps back.

Never in their life had they ever felt so hurt by just a few little words that meant so much.

You thought that Namjoon was going to hurt you and you were scared. Of them.

You let your hands fall but still needed it to wrap around yourself as a way of comfort, eyes staring back into their own.

"Maybe if you took notes, you'd realize it's been a month now since the last time we've hugged or kissed." Your voice was a little calmer now, less screaming but more tears. "I know that this mafia life is important to you, you grew up with it even before you could learn to walk and that I'm just someone else you found along your journey of life. I know that this deal is important to you, that you're pissed off because someone betrayed you so you're on guard even more. And I'm sorry for bringing this up at the wrong moment and time but I can't take it anymore. It hurts," your voice cracked and their hearts shattered.

"I've never asked for anything from you guys, you know that. But I guess if you don't care to give me the one thing I actually want, then you wouldn't care if I were to-"

You paused, realizing your fingers had came in contact with the ring that set on your finger, ready to pull it out. You looked back up at them again and the memories flooded of the last time you were so happy, of the time they proposed and gave you that precious ring, and you broke a little more, hands becoming shaky because taking that ring off meant leaving them.

"Y/N, no.." Jungkook pled, begged, his arms reaching out to you in a cautious way with tears streaming down his face while he took a few steps forward.

When you made no effort to move, he let his arms wrap around your small figure and the waterfalls came crashing down upon each other. A few more bodies wrapped themselves around you and the only thing you could hear was the cries echoing into the rooms while you held onto your ring finger securely.

What they hated more than anything was being the ones to cause your tears to run down those precious cheeks of yours, and being the ones to break your heart.

Even in sleep you clung onto them, little hiccups leaving your lips before they settled into a calmer breathing still ragged and filled with pain. The words they told you, you knew they would never forgive themselves even after apologizing profoundly. And as you fell asleep through the cries, a tear fell from your closed eyes and Jin was there to wipe it away with pain stabbing his heart.

They should have known, should have listened, or saw your distant eyes each day they returned home and your hopeful gaze falling into existence when they greeted you with nothing but a hello. Sometimes no words were said and your heart would fall even more. The bed became cold, you grew a little skinny after refusing to eat, and when they stared at the diamond on your finger, they cried a little more because you were close, so close to pulling it off.

And it was all because of them.

They couldn't sleep a wink that night so they stayed up watching you. You couldn't go a moment without clinging onto the man that laid beside you, Yoongi, and would whimper and cry if he were to try and get away. So he stayed put while some of the others tried to deal with the problem before the fight brought out.

You've fought before, just, never to that degree; to the degree of you so close to actually leaving.

A soft person was capable of having a breaking point and they triggered that breaking point of yours. You raised your voice to try and get through them and they hurt you even more for having the courage to even speak up to them, mafias capable of wrecking anyone who got in their way. But they knew you only saw them as another human being who just needed that extra love, they knew you knew they'd never ever hurt you. And to break down part of that trust in a way, Namjoon was angry at himself for even getting ticked off when you were only putting in the effort to fix things before things could get worse.

What was done was done and what was said was said. They couldn't take back those actions and words.

When the sun came shining into the room and the bright light woke you up, they were all still wide awake. Namjoon and Jin had to reluctantly go to headquarters to fix their problems while the rest of them stayed in the house.

You stirred awake, leaning away from the tight hold you held onto Yoongi and your eyes met. The room was silent and you could still see the trail of tears on his face. Yoongi hated crying especially in front of the seven of you, he hated being vulnerable like that.

So you reached up with your tiny fingers to try and brush away the tears from his eyes.

Even despite crying because of them, your brows furrowed in worry for his own tears and Yoongi's heart ached a little more.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking your hand to place a kiss on your palm and lingering there to cry a little more. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," you replied in a small voice. "I know and it's-"

"Don't say that it's okay because it isn't okay," Hoseok said from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowed his head against the nape of your neck.

Your eyes fell for a moment, catching yourself as Hoseok reminded you that you were going to easily forgive once again. "...I know." It was painful not to forgive them just yet but you knew and they knew that those were the consequences of their actions.

"Good," Hoseok breathed, satisfied at the fact that you knew not to forgive them yet.

You sat up from laying in between Yoongi and Hoseok to meet the eyes of the three youngest who now sat in front of you. They had tears falling from their eyes and when you opened your arms for them, they were quick to fall into your arms like three little puppies having gotten scolded and needed to apologize once again.

"We shouldn't have said that."

"We should have known without you having to voice it out."

"We were so stupid."

"Mhm, you sure were," you nodded, patting their heads and for the first time, it felt like you were in the dominant position.

"Does it still hurt?" Jimin asked like an innocent child as he pointed to your heart.

"A little," you replied. It had gotten much better but they couldn't take just a little as in they were already forgiven. It wasn't enough.

So Jimin planted his lips upon your chest, right above where your heart would have been. Taehyung took your face to kiss away the tears before Jungkook took over to cup your face in his large hands, causing Taehyung to settle with kissing your shoulder blade.

"Can I kiss you?" The maknae asked in a small voice. When you nodded, the kiss started out shy of little pecks before he lingered a little more, kissing you sweetly for a few seconds before things turned into a searing sensation. He kissed you passionately for almost a minute before he could no longer take it anymore and pulled away, crying with little whimpers because he missed it, missed your lips and you so much. How stupid they were to ignore you for almost a whole month. How stupid he was to not realize the changing course.

"I love you," the maknae whispered and you felt two other bodies against your back.

"We should head to headquarters," Yoongi said.

You tilted your head in confusion. We, as in...

"You too, baby girl," he told you, giving you a kiss on your temple. "Namjoon and Jin would really like to see you."

And you wanted to see them too, so the six of you left the house with you still in your sleepwear.

Hoseok held your hand all the way through as he drove, never forgetting to place kisses on the back of your hand every once in a while. And once you stood in front of the office door, the five of them beckoned for you to open the door and walk in.

You did it slowly, still a little hesitant, still a little afraid and their hearts dropped because they knew that was their fault.

You cleared your throat once you caught sight of Namjoon and Jin sitting on one of the sofas that laid in a square in the middle of the office room. They looked up from their negotiations and placed the papers down once they saw you. The boss held out his hand, motioning you to go forth towards him and for a scary moment, he was afraid you wouldn't want to because of the night before. Yet you still stepped forward and a silent breath of relief left the big boss.

Namjoon wrapped his arm around your torso, letting his face rest against your stomach for a brief moment before he allowed you to sit on his lap.

"I don't think I can ever forgive myself," he lamented with a voice that let you know that he was so disappointed in himself, "I scared you."

Jin took your left hand, thumb caressing the diamond on your finger. "We were so close to losing you," he cried a little remembering that exact moment. "Please don't leave. We were stupid but please, please don't ever think that we'd ever forget about you and not love you."

"I don't want to leave," you promised them. "I didn't mean to get scared, I know you'd never hurt me. I'm so s-"

"No, baby, you're not the one who has to apologize," Namjoon was quick to cut you off, his head leaning into the crook of your neck. "It's our fault and our fault alone."

You placed a few kisses on top of his head. You were still not used to not forgiving people but you knew they weren't going to allow you to forgive them any time soon.

"I love you," Namjoon breathed. "And for all the days you went by without hearing these words, I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over again.

Fights occurred, misunderstandings happened. It was all part of building an even stronger relationship. Sure it pained all of you in many ways but you had to thank your lucky stars that you could still go through such a moment and end up loving one another even more.

Sometimes the rain was light and easily fixable. Sometimes they were more severe, sometimes they were rough, and the boys would have to go through days and maybe even weeks to redeem themselves of a worthy title of being your boyfriends. They could never allow you to forgive them that easily, they weren’t like the others who let the situation go after one little apology because you forgave quick and easily.

Because they knew you’d still be hurt even after the quick forgiveness.

They weren’t like the previous ones who weren’t willing to go through many things just to see you actually smiling a sincere smile again, they weren’t like the ones who left the moment the rain got rough.

Which was why forgiving them was so much easier than forgiving anyone else.

And you loved them, so so much because they were willing to stand with you through both the sunshine and the rain.

3K notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 5 years

Text

Butterfly (Part 3)(BTS x Reader)

Summary: You’d always imagined that your relationship would be over if your seven boyfriends found out you self-harmed. But after a slip up involving Namjoon, everyone finds out about your bad habit. To your surprise, they make it clear that they’re not going anywhere.

Warnings: Panic attacks, Graphic depictions of self-harm, , suicide attempt, hospitals, panic attacks, breakdowns, horror, blood

W/c: 13.6k

Song rec: Make it right ~ BTS

A/N: I know it's been a long time but I hope people enjoy this installment of Butterfly! warning- it’s pretty heavy, but it ends well. As I've stated before, it’s not my intent to romanticize mental illness, prompt someone into a negative headspace, or make light of any mental health issues. This work has been cathartic and sometimes difficult to write.

Please, if you feel like you are not in a good place, reach out to someone, I promise you people care more than you think they do- Even if it doesn't feel that way.

National Suicide Prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255

*** This chapter contains graphic content of a that may trigger some readers, Please take note of the warnings and Read at your own discretion ***

The day is soft and leisurely- almost euphoric, people running around the Han river and the sun shining somehow brighter. Of course, the humidity outside is an oppressive weight that stops everything from being completely enjoyable and keeps clothes sticky. But it fails to put a damper on the overall incandescent mood that all of the boys feel.

As Practice finishes earlier than expected, a rarity in itself; the boys feel the giddiness of summer making any exhaustion dissipate. What is rarer is that they have no plans for the next day or the day after that- a rare stretch of free time a respite from their constantly full schedules, and they don’t want to waste a moment of it

The ac unit is pumping freely into the air as they step into their apartment, the same place where all farce falls away. Suddenly hands get heavy and tender and Shoulders lean into arms that will gladly support them. Kisses pressed to hot sun warmed lips that linger in the safety of things known and mutually cherished. Hoseok trips over Jungkook’s shoes but only laughs instead of scolds Hoseok gives him a playful nibbling kiss in retaliation. Everything is good- nothing stressful. Idyllic.

Jungkook claims the largest shower to a chorus of groans from the others who are also sticky with sweat from the dance practice. The 3 other bathrooms are steadily claimed, eyebrows raised and questions asked with raised eyebrows, “want to join?”

Jungkook takes off his clothes and puts them right into the washing machine. He grins when Yoongi tells him that he shouldn’t be a tease. And licks his lips in answer to the wandering hungry eyes, Tae already has Jimin pressed up against the counter in the kitchen, neither of them caring much that they’re both sweaty. But they won’t waste the day doing this here, there will be time for that later.

Jungkook giggles and walks in the direction of the largest bathroom. The one just off of Namjoon’s room. The blinds drawn against the sun is the first indication that something might be wrong- that and, your clothes are folded there, neatly, on the bed, your wallet on top.

You must have left it. He doesn’t remember you leaving in their clothes this morning, but maybe they’re clean and Namjoon just folded them for you. You do that sometimes, leave wearing their clothes claiming that theirs are so much more comfortable, only to forget half your wardrobe here.

Jungkook smiles, thinking of how forgetful you can be, the countless times that you've gotten somewhere looked up and said “oh I forgot my phone!” and Namjoon would look over his shoulder and shake his head sometimes saying, “We spend too much time together you’re starting to act like me.” Hoseok slinging his arms around your shoulders from behind, frog walking with you for a few feet until it gets too inconvenient, making noises in time with your steps. Hoseok can’t see it but you're smiling but the rest of them can.

“She’s just distracted by our handsomeness~” he sings, the same moment you join in. And Jungkook finds himself impossibly endeared, tipping his head into Hoseok's shoulder and grabbing your shoulders at the same time.

“Help- she’s been consumed by a junghope sandwich, someone get me a plate” Seokjin deadpans, making everyone erupt into laughter.

The memory is sweet and fond on jungkook's tongue. He misses you, he want you here right now to enjoy this day with them. He feels your absence as keenly as he would with any of the others. The clothes are a reminder that there is 1/8th of them missing. Though you were there that morning when they woke up (You’d slept between Jimin and Taehyung last night). You’ve probably gone back to your own apartment to get some work done. Sometimes Jungkook wonders why you even still live apart from them at all.

“Hey has someone called Y/n? She should come over today!” his request is answered by a few muted agreements. Words swallowed by the largeness of the house.

Things have been so much better between you and Jungkook recently. Not quite the best, but he’s coming around and you’re letting him in again. Namjoon had given Jungkook a mountain of articles to read about helping people with your type of problems, and it’s safe to say he’s dedicated himself fully to the mantle of being an understanding boyfriend. understanding and not helpful- because it was irrational to think that they could fix your mental health (Namjoon’s words not his- Jungkook swears he’s an expert on this).

The lingering awkwardness felt between you two had disappeared after he’d done the hard thing and apologized.

The night Jungkook finally man’s up, You’re in Jimin’s room. Fiddling around with something on his computer trying a find a new drama for the two of you to watch having finished the previous one the night before. Jimin’s hair is curly and floppy and bleach fried. He reclines on his bed in a baggy set of blue pajamas and prattles to you about things on twitter when Jungkook had come in, propping up his shoulder on the door frame.

“Hey, do you mind if i um- talk to you for a minute?” Jimin looks up from his phone, sending a concerned look in your direction, almost looking like he might want to stay to mediate. The fact that Jimin thinks he might need too only makes Jungkook feels worse. But he swallows down the feelings shame, because this isn’t about him or how he feels- this is about how he’d hurt you and owning up to it.

So he can’t take it personally, Jungkook knows Jimin doesn't want to risk another incident like the one a few days ago where Jungkook yelled at you in the hallway and inadvertently made you go… hurt yourself. No mincing words. Of course, that hadn’t been his intent, but that had been the effect of his actions.

Whatever look you give Jimin must make him decide that it’s okay to leave the two of you alone together, “I’ll go get the popcorn.” Jimin says as he gets up off his bed, brushing Jungkook’s hip affectionately with the tips of his fingers in passing as he slips by and gives you both privacy. Jungkook shifts from foot to foot. Until your eyes flicker up from the computer.

“You can just sit Kookie.” Jungkook squishes down on the edge of Jimin’s bed, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees As you forgo the computer and turn the rolly chair in his direction. He runs his hands through his hair.

Jungkook looks at the ground, unable to meet your eyes, “I don’t know where to start.” You don’t respond, and when he looks up he finds you not looking at him either. Your hands clenched together in your lap, twining over each other in the way he knows you do when you get nervous.

Are you thinking about indulging in your bad habit right now? Is that why you look so distracted? Is it like a notification on your phone? Dragging your attention away from the present? How does it feel? Are you okay? Would you even tell me if you weren’t? Tell me love - tell me please- I only want to-

This isn’t about me, he reminds himself.

“I want to apologize to you- I know that I didn’t make enough effort when you first told us about your…your self-harm” Jungkook barely manages to get the words out, but it’s a start to being more forward at least. He doesn’t want to tip-toeing around it, especially when he knows you have more open discussions about it with the others. You finally look up at him, at jungkook’s words falling uncontained and unfiltered “But I want to be someone you can rely on- like you rely on the others. Like I should have been in the beginning. God do you know I would get jealous?”

That prompts a little quirk of your lips. Small and barely there, and he feels the tension in his shoulder break. Jealousy is never something that any of you really get in this giant poly relationship as impossible as that sounds. There is always so much love to go around, everyone spoils each other so that it’s easier to ask for more space than for less. There is very little room for jealousy and even less time for it. “I can’t imagine why.”

“When I would see you with Yoongi or Namjoon, and you guys would go all quiet when I walked into the room because I knew you were talking about mental health stuff- Jesus, I just wanted to be a part of it- but I let my stupid preconceived notions get in the way of that.” Jungkook swallows. “But what I’m trying to say is that- I’m sorry for treating you so terribly, and I’m going to change so that You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me anymore- and I know you can’t forgive me but-“

Jungkook is knocked out of his reverie by your hands, soft and delicate, cup his cheeks, and he realizes he was looking at his feet again. Thumbs come up to brush across his cheeks affectionately. “Jungkook it’s okay- I know it’s not easy,” your lips quirk down at the side, eyes getting a little shadowed, a little distracted by whatever internal monologue it is that makes you sad, the opposite of what he wants,“I know I’m not easy-“

“No don’t-don’t excuse what I did.” Jungkook says with a shake of his head, grabbing your hands in his and holding onto them tight. “It doesn’t have to be easy, you should never feel like you need to be perfect like you have to sacrifice yourself and your happiness to be perfect for us. If I was a good boyfriend I would have accepted you for you and not demanded you change without a reason. I want to try to be better- to understand you better- If you still want me.”

His voice tapering off into an unsure hush. In the weeks since everything blew up in between you two, it’s been a little off-kilter. It’s not like you and Jungkook had broken up and he and the other boys were still affectionate. But you could both admit that it had sort of feeling like you’d broken up. And you realize as you look down at him, his eyes wide, the chiseled jaw that you love so much and the kind man in your arms that you know never meant to hurt you, you don’t want to stay in limbo.

You slot yourself more fully between his legs, standing and tilting his head up to look at you his hands clenched on either of your thighs, Your nose traces his as you whisper, “bunny” chiding and delicate, Jungkook hates the nickname from anyone but you. Your breath a warm soothing wave over his skin. “I’ll always want you.” you kiss him, soft and sweet, and before Jungkook realizes it he’s crying a little breaking the kiss and burying his face again in your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs through the tears, holding onto you tightly like you're going to leave, but you aren’t going anywhere.

you run your fingers through his long hair, curling the ends around your fingers. “I forgive you Jungkook.”

Jimin and Taehyung watch through the crack in the door, munching on the popcorn as Seokjin walks by with his sugar glider on his shoulder. “What are you two meddlers up too.” He whispers if he listens closely he can hear you and…is that Jungkook? Talking softly. His hand hovers on Tae’s hip.

“Just listening to the show hyung,” Taehyung says through a mouthful of popcorn. Grin boxy and happy.

Inside you and Jungkook are too. His hand running up and down your back, face buried in your stomach, as he promises you that he will never dismiss you so terribly again, that he’ll treat you better, that he’ll treasure you every day.

He wanted to fix it.

Fix it so badly.

When Jungkook opens up the door to the bathroom, on that hot day in June, he realizes that he might not get the chance.

Is this another bad dream? An intrusive thought, Jungkook stands there frozen.

How many times had he had nightmares about this happening, how many times had he dreamt of finding you like this? how many times had the others had the same fear?

This has to be another bad dream. A piercing scream, half shout of anguish, Jungkook’s disconnected from the sound even though he knows it comes from his own mouth.

But the image of you, lying eyes closed and prone in the bathtub, lips blue and skin ashen, the cold water blood red, your hand dangling over the side and a puddle on the tile, won’t go away no matter how many times he blinks.

A still life. A painting,

His knees hit the floor with a crack but he pulls himself over to you, lifting himself up on the edge of the bathtub, his breathing ragged and tearing through him, “please please don’t- be- don’t” he chants as he presses his fingers to your throat, and nearly sags to the floor when he finds a heartbeat there, beating unevenly but strong, still there, and still alive.

“Fuck Y/n!” he sobs, hauling your body up and out of the water, not caring about the blood that splatters against his bare chest or soaks into his grey track pants. “Someone! Please! Someone Call-“ but his choking sobs cut him off. He screams for his hyung’s, voice shrill, breaking. He shouts again and again and again for Namjoon, for Seokjin or anyone of his hyungs, for his loves, the people that have always helped him and loved him.

Jungkook shakes and sobs as he pulls you up against his chest. Small and limp and unmoving. And someone must here him because all of a sudden Jungkook hears a voice on the phone with police and paramedics rattling off their address. Seokjin’s shaking hands on his cellphone, choking back something in his throat as he looks into the bathroom and can’t- can’t handle it, turns away to steady himself and talk to the operator.

And someone is telling Jungkook to let you go- “Let go jungkook please”, Namjoon climbing over Jungkook to push him back- what’s going on- Namjoon why are you- what could they even- his back hits the wall after Namjoons shove. He looks up, Namjoon lying you out flat so that he can put his full weight on your wrists which are still gushing blood a little bit- but they seem to mostly have stopped with the added pressure.

Someone’s sobbing in the other room. Jungkook has your head in his lap tears drip onto your chest as he grits his teeth, and all Jungkook can say is your name, like a record that’s stuck on a loop. Namjoon holds your wrists down and keeps you from bleeding out- if you haven’t already.

A few Minutes drip by, like the leaky faucet in the tub, like the blood on the bathroom floor soaking into the grout of the tile.

The apartment is a flush with activity and everything hazy through panic, the idyllic world disturbed by all this red, and you and your limp body. The pill bottle clatters as Namjoon accidentally knocks it off of the side of the tub, though now it’s empty- Hoseok’s sleeping pills? didn’t he just fill his prescription last week? Why is the bottle empty?

Namjoon and Yoongi talk to the paramedics because Jungkook can’t, can’t see anything other than your face, your lips turned blue, the same ones he kisses whenever he gets the chance. The ones he could never kiss enough- maybe would never kiss again. The paramedics drag him back, get him out of the bathroom as they rush because there simply isn’t room.

Namjoon and Jungkook are the ones who get to pile into the ambulance with you. Though they’re originally only going to let Namjoon in, Jungkook won't leave your side, won't have anything come through the haze- not the words of the paramedic telling him to get out before they clothes the doors- not Namjoon who insists he comes. Both of them pile into the spot in the ambulance that’s meant for one person and not two above average size young men.

The others will follow a short time later. The ambulance door closes against Jimin’s nearly shrieking sobs as Taehyung tries to hold him up, almost unable to under the weight of all this panic- just as week with fear his teeth gritted.

You have to be alright- have to- they can’t lose you, not like this. Not when they should just be starting building a future with you. Yoongi drives everyone to the hospital and he does not speed and risk crashing. Though he does have to wipe away his tears whenever they have a stop light. And his whole body shaking too much to hold onto the steering wheel as well as he normally would- should- if he wants to make sure his family gets to the hospital unscathed.

Jungkook and Namjoon arrive at the hospital and watch as you are loaded into the gurney, doctors in blue-green scrubs shout statistics and numbers like a separate language that makes little sense to either Namjoon or Jungkook. A nurse tugs Namjoon along asking about your allergies and getting a clearer story of what happened.

Hoseok’s empty pill bottle is handed over as they push your hospital bed at a breakneck pace, disappearing behind doors that clearly state “operation gallery: doctors only” in red lettering. An orderly is pulling Jungkook back behind that line. But Jungkook can’t hear him, can’t hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears.

Eventually, he gives up and leaves Jungkook watching those doors, waiting for you to come through it, someone put a sweatshirt on him at some point and it’s half zipped over his bare chest. Jungkook looks at his bloodstained hands for a second before his eyes go back to the doors, waiting for you to hop out and say “sorry just a bad prank!” but it doesn’t come, it doesn’t happen.

He’s dimly aware of Namjoon talking a few feet away arguing with the nurse at the front desk. His low and panicked words, his begging “please- please is there anything you can tell us- how she’s doing- anything-“

The first flash of a camera startles Jungkook.

He turns, someone in a facemask a cell phone out, another flash as his face. And then someone else, with another more professional camera who came from who knows where takes a photo of Jungkook. They must have been waiting outside of their apartment and followed them.

After all, they do live in a complex known for their celebrity clientele. It’s a good bet that they didn’t even know who was in the ambulance and only hoped it was someone famous. And then Namjoon is there tugging Jungkook’s hood up and over his face with shaking hands as well as his own. He turns to the nurse asking for a private room to wait in.

The hospital is already scrambling with activity by the time the others pull up. All in varying states of distress. The sun just barely setting. Seokjin supporting Jimin while Yoongi rushes through the paparazzi trying to remain stoic but unable to conceal his puffy eyes from them without a face mask.

By the turn of the hour the internet and the news are roiling with questions. What was Bangtan doing at a hospital? Was one of their family members hurt? Was one of them hurt, why was the youngest covered with blood? Who was the young woman who came in just before them? The internet was abuzz with activity while the others filed in, intercepted by Namjoon, the only one who's somewhat steady because he has to be right now.

Jungkook is still standing by the door, still watching it and waiting for you to reappear. The cameras flash regardless. By the end of the night, there will be enough photos that no one will be able to deny that yes it was him and the rest of Bts there. Was the youngest hurt? Why wasn’t anyone seeing to him?

“Jungkook come on-“ Seokjin tries to grab his arm but Jungkook flings it off of them.

“No! She has to be okay hyung, she has too-“ he breaks off, a sob silencing him. The adrenaline is fading- His chest is breaking open like a cracked egg without anything to hold it in place. legs shaking and nearly giving out.

“Jungkook- please”

“No I’m not leaving-“ he gets out through gritted teeth.

“There’s nothing more we can do Jungkook, we just have to wait,” Yoongi says, voice low, blinking away tears his shoulders shaking, hands fisted in the arms of Jungkook's sweatshirt. Through the glass, the cacophony of reporters is flashing, photographing their every movement.

Though the hospital staff has quickly moved not to let people in. and keep a barricade at the door. They can still capture the way Yoongi’s fist is clenched around the bloody sleeve of Jungkook’s sweatshirt.

Yoongi puts himself in front of Jungkook, blocking his view of the door.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi begs, just his name, and Jungkook takes it as some sort of permission to break. His hyungs are here together, they’ll keep him afloat under the tidal wave of all of this. Sobs tumble uncontained from the cavern that is his chest, the kind of sobbing that comes from fear and desperation. His face buried in Yoongi’s shoulder, hands coming up to cover his face, to feel the shuddering breaths that manage to escape from his lungs even though Jungkook feels like he can’t breathe.

Together Seokjin and Yoongi lead Jungkook towards the private room guiding him away from prying eyes to hide his breakdown. One of the nurses watches them with something that looks like pain- like she knows something about grief like this because she sees it every day. Yoongi feels anger flare in his chest at the look- though it’s extinguished almost instantly by the maknae’s next shaky sob.

Inside the room, Jimin, finally calmed down enough to try and stop crying- tips his head back against the wall. He’s only partially successful as he’s breathing heavy enough to call it a panic attack and he’s not the only one- Hoseok is shaking that way too. Hands digging into his sides. None of them can seem to stop crying.

The only one who doesn’t take a chair is Namjoon. He tries to but can’t, instead standing by the door, knee shaking in an anxious jerk, scanning the hallway for anyone, anything that might help.

His phone in his pocket rings and the others watch as he lets it. Taehyung looking up from where he’d pressed his face into Yoongi’s shoulder. But only after the third call does he answer. “yeah uhm- Mr. Bang, it’s Y/n- she’s- she“

And he breaks off, covering his mouth with his hand to try to keep his sobs contained, tears finally consuming him when he has to explain what he just saw- what he just witnessed- The trauma finally hitting him.

Jimin’s breath stops coming in gasps the second Namjoon needs him, standing just in time to grab under his arms as Namjoon’s knees give out and steer him into the chair he just vacated. taking in a deep breath as namjoon shatter, half in-between his legs and half still holding him, picking the phone from namjoons hands.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin starts, and then it's hard for him to stop talking. His voice the only one in the room, as he spills the contents to their boss- why, the how- everything.

“I don’t understand. I don’t fucking understand this.” Hoseok sobs, pulling at his freshly dyed hair, as he makes these offal-wrenching gasps. The way that Hoseok cries- almost tearless, that makes it sound like his lungs are rattling around his rib cage.

No one has an answer for him. Seokjin’s shaking hands fist in his pant leg next to him. The others silently watch the door, straightening up every time a nurse or doctor passes it.

Around the end of the first hour, The PR team starts doing real damage control. More protection is set up in the hospital, noticed by them only because of the two guards that come to stand outside their door. though their faces are recognizable only vaguely (there have been so many new guards recently).

Mr. Bang is there too. Talks to Jimin and Seokjin and manages to get a word through to Taehyung, who only answers with a shake of his head when he’s asked if he wants food. If there’s anything he can do. While the others just sob or stare blankly after he clarifies that there is no news about your condition yet. No one asks about what’s online. No one checks their phones to see the photos or the theories; half of them don’t even have their cellphones or left them in the car.

Mr. Bang and another manager leaves to get them food, which no one touches. Jungkook stares down at his hands. Stained with your blood but drying- flaking off onto the floor.

Seokjin kneels down in front of him, a wet wipe in his hands, stretching out carefully to clean them off, finger by finger, slowly and gently. Taking care of Jungkook like he has since he was fifteen.

Jungkook doesn’t mention the fact that Seokjin is sobbing himself. But when the elder finishes, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull him close. Needing something to hold onto, and it’s the saddest Seokjin has ever felt with someone’s arms around him.

It’s almost midnight by the time someone comes by to tell them anything at all. the doctor is still wearing her scrubs, the sleeve of her shirt blotted with blood. The boys, still life at one moment and then a flurry with movement when she appears at the door- asking about you, swarming her, asking If you were okay, how you were doing. If there was anything they could do.

taehyung stays in the back, breath held, as he waits for the words he dreads. Doesn’t let himself feel anything until he knows. Knows for sure. He waits to hear the words come from the female surgeon's mouth. I’m sorry, but there wasn’t anything we could do she was too far gone.

The doctor inhales.

“We managed to seal the lacerations on her arms after a few hours of surgery, she had to get her stomach pumped due to the medication she took. She’s very lucky that you found her when you did, she would have overdosed and gone into multiple organ failure if she had gotten here 5 minutes later-” They fall silent, waiting for the shoe to drop. And then in the back again, Taehyung letting out a jagged sob in relife, holding onto the windowsill for support.

“-We need to monitor her overnight to make sure there isn’t any damage to her organs and probably for the next few days, she might not wake up right away either.”

“So she’s- she’s okay? She’s not going to die.” Taehyung almost doesn’t want to know the answer.

“For now yes, the chances are slim.” The nurse purses her lips, almost about to ask another question. Before Hoseok pipes up, voice raspy and quiet.

“Can we see her?”

Namjoon didn’t know what the hardest part was going to be, he’d thought the hardest part was going to be when he’d held your wrists in the bathroom to stop you from bleeding out, but this- somehow this was worse.

Your body underneath the sterile white blanket, your hair tangled in places, your purple lips, tube going into your nose, your hands above the blanket, everything from your hands to your elbows wrapped in thick white gauze, the heart monitor beeping steadily but slowly. Calmly even.

The nurses realized quickly that none of them were going to obey the “only 3 people at a time” rule. The manager talked to the head orderly and gave them special privileges, these continued when visiting hours ended. They knew it might be a little while before you woke up after anesthesia. The doctor had come by to talk again, about how personal drive had a lot to do with it.

Namjoon knew what they meant- they meant that if you didn’t want to wake up you might not, but didn’t say it outloud for fear of what it would do to the others. A look in Yoongi and Seokjin direction lets him know that he’s not the only one who understands what this might mean. But the maknae’s are still so hopeful. Looking at you like they haven’t given up yet.

Hoseok is still- still half not there. He moved from the waiting room to your room like a ghost, where he chooses a chair and just stares into empty space. The rasping sobs have subsided and now-now he just sits and watches. Shrugging off any hand that might touch him with the intent of wanting comfort or giving it.

Hoseok grits his teeth in anguish, able to keep the sobs in his throat, his eyebrows knit together as he tries to keep himself from breaking down. his breaths coming out short and labored. as he locks the part of himself away that’s panicking. His eyes sting, and he knows his face is looking pinched and severe. “you always look so angry when you cry.” You’d teased him before, after their last award show when they’d come home and Hoseok and Taehyung had been admittedly a wreck.

Hoseok can’t forget the conversation he had with you almost a month ago. He should have asked again- he should have told someone. Blame sits on his shoulders, heavy.

The night had started with a win from an award show, and ended with Hoseok falling giggly into bed next to you. He doesn’t often reach the right amount of drunk vs sleepy, but tonight- everyone had let loose more than usual, high off the win and rush of getting an award and beating another record. Even though he usually doesn’t like alcohol, it sings like a special kind of caffeine in his veins tonight and he almost dosent want it to end.

You are equally as trashed, and equally as soft looking in his bed. You’d been waiting at home after the award show. Food and glasses of champagne ready and waiting for them. Ready to celebrate and dance around your living room.

Hoseok doesn’t know how he got so lucky in his life, the liquid gold threading it’s way through his heart like some kind of magic, he smiles at you and leans over to press his lips to yours. You can taste the happiness in it and the delightful cinnamon and spice taste that is Hoseok.

“Hey,” he whispers, trying to be serious for about a quarter of a second before he fails, falling into giggles again, hiding his face in your shoulder hand fisted in the sleeve of your shirt. Suddenly dizzy with all the excitement. He keeps his tone joking “Want to have angsty conversations until two in the morning and drink wine?”

“That’s what me and Yoongi do!” you cry, for some reason indignant, kicking your socks off.

“Yeah but I can be that way too! We could even, like- invite him!”

You snort “like he’d ever get out from under Namjoon right now- not even for all the wine in the world” as if on queue, a high-pitched breathy moan and a muted ‘yes Joon right there’ is heard echoing from across the hall. Someone- jin from the sound of it- bangs on a wall crying something like “stop being nasty!”

“A min Yoongi venting sesh without min Yoongi” both of you giggle at the thought. unlike other nights, when you might be interested in more of a supine eventing, tonight you just strip off your clothes to the barest forms without being truly naked, falling asleep in Hoseok's favorite way, your skin pressed against his.

He’s drunk enough that he doesn't stop to wonder about what tracery the darkness hides on your skin instead settling into your arms like a ship would at port. Your hand running up and over his lithe shoulders tempting groans of pleasure from his throat. Hoseok has always always loved being touched, and being touched by you makes him feel like his very soul is shivering. Falling easily asleep in each others arms, the alcohol sending you into a spiral towards sleep.

When you wake up, your head is pounding, and Hoseok is warm next to you, his fingers stroking through your hair, a look at him confirms that he’s awake and watching you. You know the wetness in his eyes as he looks down at you. You wonder if his head feels as bad as yours.

“What’s wrong baby,” you say, reaching up to wipe the tears off his cheeks.

“Bad dream,” he says. His eyes searching your body, his hands holding on a little too tightly. Hoseok doesn’t dream often, but whatever he must have dreamed about is clearly weighing on him.

“Want to have that venting sesh now?” you pry gently, pulling yourself up so that you’re at his level and not snuggled in near his chest. His breath brushed over your cheeks when he breathes out. And in this lighting of very early morning, all of the red is diluted in Hoseok’s hair, making it look almost grey.

You wonder what he’ll look like when it turns grey with age, you wonder even more if you’ll get to see it. In the dark, Hoseok looks like he’s wondering the same thing. He shakes his head, and your hands tighten on the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you want me to Y/n.”

You stuck in a bated breath “what did you dream about Hobi?”

He didn’t want to ask, maybe he didn’t want to know. All of the last weeks have been burning that question through him and he knows- all of them know what you said to Yoongi in the bathroom a few weeks ago when he caught you. Hoseok hears the words as good as if he was there himself - ‘I’m not going to kill myself’- But Yoongi- Yoongi wasn’t asking the right questions. “it’s just-“ he breaks off, swallowing a thick breath. “Do you ever think about dying? Do you want to die?”

You smile at him- or try too at least, the answer you give him isn’t what he wants not by a long shot. “I don’t want to make you sad Hobi,” your smile, your smile isn’t sad, regardless of what your words hint at, or the horror that wells up in Hoseok’s throat at how hopeless you look.

Hoseok doesn’t want that. You shouldn’t be resigned to this, this sadness that’s consuming you. You should be trying to fight at it. You try to give him a tired smile, a little stronger than before. Tugging him to turn onto his side so that you can put your arms around him. Hoseok doesn’t know what to say, what to do for that matter, his head pounds with the after-effects of the alcohol. “Let's just go back to bed okay?”

Hoseok curls up against your throat and listens, hearing your heartbeat, and is lulled into a thankfully dreamless sleep, not realizing that later- he would wish he wouldn’t have, he would wish he had stayed up and asked you what you meant by that. If you really wanted to.

“Do I ever make it better? Do any of us?” he murmurs, nearly asleep.

“Of course you do.”

If they had thought finding you in that bathroom was bad- it was nothing to compare to the pain of you waking up.

Sometime in the early morning, muted grey yellow light filtering through the cracks in the blinds, some of the boys had collapsed into the so-called “parent cots” that the hospital staff had been nice enough to bring around.

The two smallest curl up swathed in Seokjin’s arms, with Jungkook and Namjoon in the other cot. Jungkook shaking through a nightmare in Namjoon’s arms at one point in the night, though by that time everyone is losing track of time.

While every beat of the heart monitor had everyone feels a little better- because At least you were alive.

Taehyung is propped up against the wall, coming to sit by you when he gives up on sleeping. After the first few hours of emotionally exhausted listlessness, Jimin couldn’t sleep either. Shifting out of Seokjin’s arms going to join Taehyung in the slightly larger seat probably not meant for two people. Hoseok is in a haze, half asleep and half awake, and never totally present.

From their side of your bed, Taehyung and Jimin watch and wait for him to fall apart.

Hoseok has been awake the whole night, the only one who at one point hadn’t fallen asleep or at least tried. Hoseok looks like he might fall over, the bags under his eyes and the coldness in the room making his shoulders shiver uncomfortably, he watches you and he waits.

At one point in the night, Taehyung leans forward, taking his hand in yours, your hands are cold, but maybe a tiny bit warm on the palm, Taehyung warms it with both of his, careful not to jostle your bandages as he kisses your fingers. If he had any more tears left he would cry.

“I promise, one day- we’re going to take a trip together, leave this whole city and everything that bothers you behind, and it will be just the 8 of us, maybe you and I could take day trips on our own, and I’ll make your life so happy and full that you’ll forget this ever happened, that you’ll forget you ever where sad.” Taehyung looks up when he senses Hoseok’s heavy eyes on him, his lower lip shaking. But he says nothing.

Hoseok does reach forward and take your other hand in his. Thumb rubbing along the back of your hand slowly and gently. Eventually, Tae pulls back, leaning into Jimin’s shoulder, and drifts a little, not truly asleep and not truly awake. leaving Hoseok and Jimin to stand vigil.

Jimin watches Hoseok almost as much as he watches you, he watches so hard he almost doesn’t realize when your eyes are fluttering open, he’s imagined it so many times over the last few hours he’s half-convinced it's not real. There is stillness for half a moment. The heartbeat monitor beeping unconvincingly in the corner.

Your eyes are hazy and unfocused; Hoseok lets out a choked noise in relief, maybe your name, hand tightening over yours. “Y/n! Thank you- oh fuck thank god, thank you for not fucking dying- holy shit-“ Hoseok sobs, holding your hand so tight as he collapses forward onto the bed, knees sliding to the floor as he breaks uncontrollably.

You blink through the cloudiness in your eyes as those sleeping stir awake. Seokjin blinks sleepily, unintentionally shifting Yoongi in his arms. On the other side, Namjoon stirs as Jungkook bolts awake. Jimin has never moved quicker in his life moving to your bedside. Taehyung jerks awake without Jimin's shoulder to lean on almost falling out of the chair.

Hoseok is right- thank god for waking up. A god that Jimin has never believed in but might now just for this. He wants to collapse in exhaustion as all the fear leaves him and relife takes its place, he feels like he might just with how his legs feel like jelly.

“What,” you say, voice small and rough, but it’s the most beautiful word Yoongi has ever heard in his life, more beautiful than any melody or rhythm. Eyes darting around the room taking in them: your family sprawled out in the grey hospital room.

The heartbeat monitor kicks up beating faster, uneven. Your breath comes out worse. Suddenly taking everything in and understanding what it means. blood rushing through your head.

fuck- fuck you didn’t- you didn’t succeed when all you wanted to was- and now- and now they’re here and you’re- The white bandages on your arms are cumbersome, don't allow your arms to bend at all when Jimin and Hoseok take your hands in theirs.

And Jimin’s expression is absolutely painful- painfully happy.

It doesn’t make sense, not when the blackness in your lungs is sticky and suffocating- your treacherous heart hurts in your chest pumping despite everything. The dysphoria at living feels- it feels god awful. Worse than the pain that laces up your arms like gauntlets, worse than the swirling nausea lurking in your empty stomach.

Hoseok smiles at you through happy thankful tears. Jimin too- Looks so happy that you’re alive. It doesn’t make sense at all why he would be happy- not to your brain with everything- everything harsh and biting to your very being- god your head hurts. You’re dimly aware of Namjoon letting out a half laugh half sob in relief. Jungkook standing, his long hair half ruffled, his bunny eyes wide and tear-filled, looking so stunned, a smile slowly painting his face.

It doesn't feel real, nothing does. The only thing you’re really aware of is the thunder in your ears of your own heartbeat, you can’t take it all in fast enough, everything- nothing you see makes its way through the fog in your mind and yet you’re overwhelmed with stimulus.

The thunder of the heart monitor, Jimin’s and Hoseok’s hands holding yours, skin on skin warm but you feel so cold. Yoongi sitting up looking sleep ruffled but his eyes screwed closed with tears, back bending with the weight of it all as he holds his head with his elbows on his knees. Namjoon smiling at you tearfully with his dimples that you love so much on display, looking thankful. The sluggish pull of painkillers in your veins makes everything startling off-kilter like a ride at an amusement park. Taehyung crumpling into Jungkook’s side, falling to pieces in his arms. It’s all so much- too much.

You give a shaky breath, pulling your hand out of Jimin’s and Hoseok’s hands, Jimin tries to hold on- but it’s almost violent how quickly you retract your hand from his, pulling at the iv drip there too so that it dangles out of the back of your hand. Pulling both of them to your chest, placing them there like you're guarding yourself against them. The heart rate monitor kicks up to the point that a warning tone sounds. A nurse opens the door as Yoongi stands. Not sure what to say- even less sure what to do.

“Please- please why are you- why.”

What are you begging for, what do you need? Just tell me how to make you better love, just let me help heal you. Tell me why you did it- why did you do it- why why why. There isn’t enough air in the room for your lungs to breathe easily. you can’t handle this- all of their eyes on you. Black spots start to dance in your vision

The nurse strong-arms her way next to you in the bed, shining a flashlight into your dilated eyes “Miss do you know where you are? Are you in any pain?” Your breath still comes too fast-to-fast.

“Please- why- what’s going on- why am I-“ your words are strangled by your breath, the panic all-consuming. The nurse hits the blue button; Seokjin utters your name- still blinking away the sleep in his eyes. Everything harsh and slanting and doesn’t feel real.

“Miss you need to breathe, you need to calm down, you’re in the hospital.”

There is another nurse at the door now, their hand on Yoongi’s side. Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s too. The room is full of people at this point. “You need to give her some space.”

“No” Tae growls out, watching as you push away an oxygen mask, panic picking up again from the way you’re pushing everything away not just them. How afraid you look of everything, especially the hands that only want to help.

The beeping from the heart rate monitor reaching a fevers pitch. The surgeon from before shoves her way past the guard at the door. Followed by another orderly who quickly tries to lay hands on Jungkook, who throws them off.

“Someone gets them out of here- and pump 3 cc’s of Midazolam, she will tear her stitches if she keeps moving around- someone gets these boys out of here!”

“Fuck off we're not leaving.” Jimin spits. The surgeons head whips up to look at him, her eyes narrowing at him, and Jimin has the good sense to look absolutely terrified. They all do.

“I do not care who you boys are. if you put the health of my patient at risk more than you already have I will ban you from her room and this hospital.” You still fight against their arms, even as the nurse shoots something into your resecured iv, another nurse holding your arm down to make sure you don’t try to tear it away.

“Let me go. Let me go- please-please” you plead; the orderlies have to grip Jungkook around the waist before the door to your room closes behind them. sealing all the panic inside.

Hoseok runs his fingers through his hair sagging against the wall, pulling at it harshly- and doesn’t know if he wants to punch a wall or be punched himself.

“Okay- this is- that was. This whole thing is so fucked up.”

He’s not wrong.

Food is unanimously decided on, a separate office room that one of the nurses leads them too. Namjoon doesn’t know what kind of strings Mr. Bang must have pulled to get them special treatment, but he makes a mental note to thank his boss later.

For once, they’re all lost for words as they eat. Though Jimin doesn’t touch the food in front of him. And for once, no one forces him. This might have to do with the fact that he’d thrown up when they’d walked into the room. Yoongi and Seokjin both only nurse a coffee not feeling up to solid food just yet.

It’s around an hour before the same surgeon finds her way back into their room. “She’s okay.” She opens with, glaring at them like a hawk, Taking in the visible sigh of relief from all of them.

“Why was she-” Seokjin swallows against the lump in his throat, “why did she push us away? why was she so-” he breaks off. Looking up at the doctor imploringly for answers to soothe the ache in his chest.

“She was in distress, with all the painkillers and medication lingering in her system it’s likely she didn’t even know what she was doing.” everyone in the room sags in that. The doctor crosses her arms, giving everyone a warning glare. “If you put her in distress like that again I will have you banned from this hospital until she becomes more stable,”

For the first time, everyone pays attention to what she’s saying. “You are not to touch her wrists or her stomach. We’re running tests right now to make sure she’s not in any immediate risk for acute organ failure, we’ve given her a sedative to keep her from potentially hurting herself or panicking the way you all made her but I swear if.-”

“Is she awake? Is she still talking? Is she-“ Namjoon starts the same moment Yoongi says “let us see her.”

The surgeon snorts, rolling her eyes at the rapper. And Yoongi finds himself wishing that he were just a little bit taller so that he could stare down at her and intimidate her the way he’s trying too. Not that it looks like it’s doing anything other than piss her off.

It was worth a shot anyway, and next to him, Taehyung is crossing his arms, looking at her with that unsettling blank look that seems to be doing enough. “If it were up to me you all would have been thrown out already.” Her hand hovers on the door, eyes going softer after a second “But she’s been asking for you- so follow me.”

You’re sitting up in the bed when they walk in. The yellow hospital gown clings to your shoulders- far too big. Hands lying on top of the covers your arms are bound in fresh white bandages From wrist to elbow.

Someone’s opened the blinds of the window. And the morning light spills across your face. Looking much calmer and put together than when you woke up it’s almost startling. You try to smile at them, and say a muted ‘hey guys’, but it comes out so strangled it’s almost not a word.

The bags under your eyes are almost purple. In the hospital bed- you look worn. The very soul of you looking like someone had washed a rag too many times and still hung it out in the sun to dry, leaving it crumbling and crusty and oh so delicate. You look a little sleepy too- must be the drugs, hell Seokjin could actually go for a sedative right now too.

One of the beds has been removed. Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook sit on the other. Jimin looks so unsteady on his feet that Namjoon immediately yanks him into the chair. Hoseok takes a seat at the end of your bed. Tae stands.

“I’m-I’m so sorry guys.” You say, a little tear coming out of your eyes as Jimin thoughtlessly takes one of your hands, realizing what he’s done the second he did and how you reacted before. But thankfully You don’t pull away this time. And he sees wetness sparking in your eyes. “I didn’t mean- I never wanted you all to-“ you look from boy to boy hunting for absolution, for forgiveness for something that none of them know how to give.

“Are you sorry you tried? Or because you didn’t succeed? or was that even your intention? did you just go too deep?” Taehyung asks, not bothering to wipe away the tears that haven’t stopped falling since he saw you sitting alive in the hospital bed, calmer than before. There is nothing accusatory in his tone, he just wants to know.

You don’t answer. Jimin takes the silence as his own, clamping down on the nausea.

“You know I thought there’d be a sign if you were really going to do it?” he says, and you turn from Tae to focus on Jimin. Your fingers holding onto his hand weekly. And like before, once he starts talking he just can't stop, the words tumbling from his lips like a confession.

“I thought that maybe we’d be able to anticipate it and be enough of a support system to catch you before this point. I even- fuck- you don’t know this but I even checked your phone? Even though I knew it was a breach of privacy? I thought ‘she’s definitely the type to leave a note and she’d probably draft it before she sent it out or something’ so I’ll be able to know before she does it. I’ll be able to stop her.”

Jimin is trying so hard not to break down, you can see it in every twitch of a muscle that he makes, every single deliberate word. His collarbones look incredibly sharp under the collar of his t-shirt. And his other hand bites into his shoulder, holding on tightly while the one in your hand grips gently. As gently as you would touch something soft and newborn. Jimin’s lips are red bitten, his eyes puffy but clear. “But you know what the last words you said to me where?” you shake your head, trying not to cry yourself.

“You said ‘see you in a little bit’ yesterday morning before we left for practice. like it was just going to be any other day- and after we found you all I could think about what that. That I’d see you when” his voice cracks, but he presses on the ache in his lungs, needing to get the words out. “That I’d only see you when we both died, and maybe that was what you meant. Maybe I’d have to wait my whole life before I saw you again in whatever what comes next.” Jimin is sobbing now, openly, doing nothing to stop the halting trail that they carve down his cheeks. Over cheeks and over lips that you’d kissed a thousand times.

And almost never got to kiss again.

“But I don’t want to see you then- I want to be with you every single morning, every single time I wake up I want to see your face, from this day on until the day I die I want to be able to see you every single fucking day.”

He’s crying too hard to let the words get through towards the end. You reach up, your hand stopping when it tugs on the iv but Jimin is already falling into you taking your reaching as permission, already burying his face in your shoulder as much as he dares, worried like that you would disappear with too much force. And you cry, the weight settling on you like blame- because you’ve hurt this man, this lover of yours who wanted nothing more than the tenderest of lives for you.

A life that you have never wanted. And you wish you did, you wish you had. If not for anything else than to avoid this mess that you’ve made, the pain you’ve caused in the people you love so much.

You’ve hurt him so much by tearing yourself apart that now he is falling in shambles. You wish you could move your hand to run them through his bleach fried yet greasy hair, you wish that you had any soothing words for him- but you don’t.

You’d tried to kill yourself, nothing more than that and nothing less.

You’d tried and failed and you were still here, and now you had to deal with the consequences. Jimin won’t move, won't stop running his hands over your throat to feel the pulse there, nose pressed to your neck to hide his tears. to reassure himself that you’re alive, that he still has time with you.

On the cot pulled next to you, Yoongi sits, his hands shaking around a coffee that he doesn’t sip it. He’s the next to speak, the next one who has enough courage, “you know what I thought when I came into the bathroom and found Namjoon and Jungkook there with you?” Yoongi’s voice shakes, his hands in fists at his sides, he looks so so small there, his teeth gritted against the emotional pain in his throat. “I thought fuck- how are they going to survive this, how are they going to put up with losing both of us.”

Jungkook lurches to his side, “Yoongi no-“ he says, as the others look on horrified, Yoongi bites his lip and brushes the tears out of his cheeks angrily as Seokjin fists a hand in the back of his jacket. “I know I wouldn’t have done it- I know it was just a passing thought, but also- fuck, I would have been a ghost had you not come back to us- a part of me would have died if you had, and I don’t want you to think that I’m holding onto you just to hold onto myself- but fuck, fuck I need you. I need you every day. Every moment like Jimin said every day that doesn’t have all of us in it is hell for me.”

Taehyung pipes in, teeth gritted against his tears, “I want you to be here, and I want to you want to be here- I want you to get better. I don’t know what would be good for you.” Taehyung’s lower lip trembles as he tries not to cry, in taking several shallow breaths, “we’re not enough to properly take care of, and I know that now” Taehyung sees how your crying anew and rushes over his own words.

You don’t want to admit it- none of them do, but the fact of the situation is that no one would be here if they were enough to keep you alive. “I know, I know you try really hard, and I know that all of us do too, but-but we couldn’t stop you, we couldn’t help you in the right way, and I know you need a better safety net than us. Do you think-”

Taehyung pauses, closing his eyes for a moment- he knows he won't be able to go back from his next words, his next suggestion, once he says them you’ll act regardless of what he wants, but it might be what you need to keep this from happening again.

“Do you think that it might be better if you went to a recovery center? Or a mental hospital for a little while? Just to make sure you’re okay and safe?” Seokjin and Jimin stiffen, but no one protests, no one tells you that you shouldn’t- even if they don’t want you too, they all know it might be best if you do go.

“I don’t know-I don’t think that i-” you shudder and shiver, eyes darting from each of them, waiting to see if any of them are going to jump up and say that they don’t want you to be admitted to a hospital. Don’t want you to go somewhere that they can’t follow.

Seokjin grabs your hand from where he sits folded over your right side, winding his knobby hands with yours, “you don’t have to decide now” the words you’d needed to here, a tense breath released from all of them.

“You can think it over and we can try to figure something out that works.”

The next few hours are marginally less sucky. You meet with doctors, they check your stitches and run a few more tests. There is a tenser meeting with the police. But everything goes smoothly- probably because of a stack of cash slid to them by one of the managers to keep it quiet. Always focused on containing scandals.

By the end of the day, some of the boys need to go home and at least shower and change clothes if not get some sleep. Though Jungkook straight up refuses too until Namjoon gives him a look. Yoongi and Tae go to retrieve dinner from somewhere better than the cafeteria to get food.

The others will be back soon, Seokjin stays with you, the others promising to bring back a change of clothes- he’ll just shower in the small bathroom attached to your room. He leans up against the door, the tv droning in the corner on some drama. Watching your face silhouetted against the yellow light. indulging in the image of you for a moment.

You’re quiet just watching the tv going in and out of sleep. They’re going to try and wean you off the painkillers in an hour or so, and the doctor had warned you to try and get some sleep while you can. After a moment, you notice Seokjin by the door, giving him a small tired smile.

Seokjin struggles to find something to say, but doesn’t, putting his hands in his pockets. You scoot over a little, patting the bed next to you. “Want to sit and wait for food with me?” neither of you mention that you probably won't be able to eat any of it. You’re on a liquid diet until they get your second-day labs back. But one of the nurses did promise you a very tasty strawberry and watermelon shake, so there’s that to look forward too.

Seokjin nods and carefully gets into bed next to you, on top of the covers while you’re underneath, careful to leave some distance between the two of you in case you want it. His heart fluttering when you don’t instead turning onto your side and reaching to set your arm over his chest gently. Seokjin shifts, letting you tuck your shoulder under his arm.

The television changes to a news briefing. a car pileup, and then before Seokjin can change it, “No news yet on the most recent celebrity news. What were the members of Bangtan Sonyeodan doing at Asan Medical Center and why aren’t the police saying anything- more on what we know during our celebrity bulletin at 8.”

“I really made a mess of things for you guys didn’t I.”

“Don’t worry about it please” Seokjin begs, running his hand down your arm and kissing the top of your head. Reaching for a moment, for the clicker to shut the television off before they play anything else.

“But you-”

“I’m serious Y/n” Seokjin cuts you off, looking down at you, a bone-deep exhaustion in him as he reaches a hand to brush at your cheeks, hooking a hand under your jaw to turn your face up so he can see you better.

“The managers have dealt with it, and we’ll see if any of the doctors breach doctor-patient confidentiality- and none of us care, we’re all just relieved that you’re still alright now.” the thudding truth of that last statement makes Jin feel like he’s gonna cry again, but he doesn't want to- he’s tired of crying.

“You should get some sleep before the others get back.” You nod, seeming to accept his words for now at least before you snuggle further into his side. you’ve lost a little bit of your ashen tint to your body, but you’re still a little bit cold, a little weak from the blood loss (though they did have to give you infusions during surgery. Seokjin rubs a hand up and down your back rapidly to warm you up.

“Can you...” you start for a second, cutting off, looking shy. cheek against his chest.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Seokjin asks murmuring the words into the top of your head (even if your hair is a little greasy)

“Can you sing for me?” you ask quietly.

“Of course,” Seokjin smiles, you’ve asked him to do that before, in the kitchen in your house, before you go to sleep, you love the sound of his voice, of all of theirs really. “Any requests?”

“Whatever makes you happiest.” Seokjin swallows, turning it over in his head for a moment before he decides on it. He starts up, the words falling from his lips the way they’ve done 1,000 times.

“Will you stay by my side will you promise me~” he continues the rest of the verse of butterfly until he gets to the rap part. Slipping into Yoongi’s lines with a slightly more joking tone, changing the words to puns as he sees fit. “butter cake~ butter cake~”

Even after all these years- Seokjin still can’t rap. But he does his best switching around the lyrics and making them goofier while keeping the rhyme, swaying side to side with you in his arms as much as he can in the hospital bed. The giggle you let out is soft and rippling, coming from your belly. Making the first real smile he’s had today appear on Seokjin's face, his hands holding onto you a little tighter as he breaks off “You’re going to make me lose tempo ~” he whines.

Outside the door, Yoongi and Taehyung pause, listening to the sound of your and Seokjin's laughter. Looking at each other, the bags of food in their hands, just soaking in the sound for a second, even as it fades. You start singing too. your voice gentler and quieter, sleep-roughened, joining in with Seokjin's.

Taehyungs hand squeezes his roughly, the younger taking in a shaky breath. And for the first time since they got home and found you, Yoongi lets himself believe for a moment that everything is going to be okay.

4 WEEKS LATER

“So,” Mr. Bang says as he makes his way around the edge of the table, it’s only him, their manager Sejin, and boys in the conference room today, this decision is purely between the head of the company and them really. “We’re here to discuss which one of you should go public with Y/n as your significant other.”

The room erupts with the conversation, Jimin and Seokjin actually sit up, everyone simultaneously volunteering themselves for the position. It wasn’t really a position, they knew that whoever went public with Y/n would undergo severe scrutiny and probably a hit to their popularity; it would incur the wrath of the fans, several trending hashtags of twitter. And make everything much more difficult for them in general.

They didn’t care at all of course, how many times had they each wanted to take you to a party or an award show with the company’s blessing- or have you sit in on an episode of run BTS or star in a Vlive. Being your official boyfriend in the company’s eyes was just permission in general to do just that.

The only reason why none of them were jumping out of their skin in anxiety about having you not in the room with them was that you were currently exactly 3 floors below them, in the practice room- Soobin had invited you to watch their practice for their upcoming first concert.

None of them knew their juniors all that well yet. But they knew there would be enough staff around to keep an eye on you. No one had come out and told any of them what had happened, or even knew the nature of your relationship with the boys. But all of them knew that you were somehow special to them, though only the managers knew anything more to speculate about your relationship- Mr. Bang and Sejin where the only who knew the full story.

You hung around so often that you knew all of the staff by name, had brought doughnuts to the break room often enough and volunteered to help many times, enough that the staff liked you. In the first week after the hospital stay, one of the makeup noonas had even asked Jimin where you where, tensely asking, “is she- still in the hospital?”

Jimin had been able to choke out “She came home last night.” while he barely managed not to burst into tears. Taehyung had stepped in, stepping in with a hand on Jimin's shoulder, and comforting words in his ear, gripping his hand hard.

“it’s okay Jimin, she’s fine at home, Namjoon is with her now- we don’t have anything to worry about.”

So at the moment, they had nothing to worry about. And as much as they all hated to admit it, it wasn’t because they trusted you- no- it was because The staff was under explicit instructions from Namjoon at this moment not to let you leave the company building without texting Namjoon first.

Your hospital stay had been all over the news for weeks even if no one had ever figured out your identity. A small miracle in its self. Some talk shows were still speculating about it- and hopefully, this business with them coming out with you as their official S/o would put the matter to rest.

You understood why it was necessary, even if it meant lying about what had really happened. Saying that you had fallen into a glass table, would be your official story, the youngest member finding you first which was why Jungkook had been so dazed, why there were more than 400 photos floating around on the internet of him half shirtless and bloody.

An accident- even if it was anything but.

This particular discussion had come out of a few tense weeks- following your…attempt. When the boys had decided that hiding you were doing more harm than good. They’d initially intended to draw straws for it- pure luck was the only way to do it fairly. And they’d alerted the company more as a courtesy than anything else.

The company hadn’t like that one bit. None of the management, Accept for Mr. Bang, who had sat back on his thighs, given them a tired smile and said, “you really love to give me a headache don’t you?”

So now they did it the company’s way, with statistical evidence to who it would affect the least, who was most likely to not cause too many waves. It was an ineffectual and unemotional approach to it, and all of them hated it. To Taehyung especially- it seemed like the statistical information in front of them discounted on fact.

The facts being that they where all in this relationship together, every party an equal piece of the love that you shared, even if the nature of that love and the way it was felt and received was different for each member.

Everyone needed different things and from each other- they got it. Tae needed companionship more than anything, someone to be there- but not necessarily to speak, simple enjoyment of each others company which was why sometimes he was content to sit back and let the others be loud for him.

It was different than the way that the others showed and receive love the same way Jimin needed physical affection like it was air, and Yoongi- Yoongi only really needed it on the bad days like Tae. Whereas Namjoon- wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of the bunch but was always okay with receiving even if he wasn’t initiating it- different then the way that Seokjin sometimes needed his space and needed that to be physical- Seokjin who got just as much satisfaction from caring for others as he got from being cared for. Which was why he and Jungkook had a symbiotic relationship, Jungkook needed to feel snuggled down and smothered with love to feel secure.

And you, the way that you needed understanding and care without enabling your worst habits. Care and gentleness without accommodation. That in itself a challenge that they were slowly conquering together, though your therapist was helping them in no small way.

They were all a puzzle piece fitting perfectly with the ones around them. And this- this arguing and analysis of them- it felt like management was trying to shave down a piece to fit better when in reality- they already all fit perfectly together.

So the others might shout and ask questions- but Taehyung just sat back, and waited.

“Before you try to speak your case, you should know that both of you have been eliminated from consideration.” Yoongi has to grip Jimin’s hands to stop him from sitting up, he can feel the rage underneath the younger skin as Jimin’s whole body tightens.

“Would you at least tell us why?” Seokjin asks scalding, never one to take the company’s wishes into account.

“It’s simple,” Sejin says, shuffling the papers on the conference table in front of him. “You’re the most popular domestically, and Jimin is the most popular abroad by a number of twitter engagements- statistically the group would take too much of a hit if either of you was viewed negatively.”

The members don’t comment on this, rolling their eyes if anything. They’d long since stopped being jealous over each other being more or less popular that each other- since just after their debut. Seokjin slumps back in his chair rubbing his lower lip with his finger. And surprisingly, doesn’t protest.

He’s thinking of all of us, Yoongi realizes with a start- his heartstrings pulling, Seokjin might have tried time and time again to piss off the company as much as possible with his hair dying, hair cutting and liberal style opinions. But this time- he’s not just accountable for himself.

“Because of this Hoseok is also out.”

“What the actual F-“

On the other side of the table, Seokjin forcefully pulls the redhead down. Taehyung looks like he might laugh if it wouldn’t make him sick.

“We also believe that the fans will think it’s strange if the youngest member is in a relationship before his hyung’s” Jungkook’s jaw tightens but he waves his hands for Mr. Bang to continue.

“Which leaves us with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung as possibilities.” The three are rim rod silent. Taehyung looks tired, blinkingly lazily, Namjoon’s tapping the table agitatedly. Mr. Bang turns to Namjoon first, leaving no room for preamble. “We’ve come to the conclusion that Namjoon would be the best pick, we believe that next to him, Y/n will leave a favorable impression. Namjoon is best equipped to deal with all of the stress as the leader.”

“But won't this also add to this stress?” Taehyung asks, leaning forward, his eyes dart to Namjoon’s “I’m not trying to advocate for myself it’s just-“ Taehyung makes eye contact with Namjoon. “this is going to be…a lot”

Besides Namjoon, Yoongi nods, “it is- but it’s going to be worth it.”

“Are there any objections?” Mr. Bang asks.

Inside the practice room, you watch the members of txt perfect the ending of one of their songs- Soobin is the only one who you really have any interaction with, as he’s not that much younger than you or Jungkook. But you’re slowly starting to get to know the other members better, even if the age difference is a little more insurmountable.

They’d offered you an in on this practice more as a courteously to their hyung’s than anything else. Here at the company- no one knew exactly how to place you. Most of them taking bets on who were you dating this week, which was a subject of constant debate at the beginning after a makeup unnie had walked in on you kissing Namjoon and Yoongi in the same week (in the same closet no less). The unnie had even tried to tell Namjoon after a little while- not that it hadn’t already made it around the rumor mill.

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if they broke up? But she distracts all the boys when she comes around and they do have an even busier schedule coming up.” Imagine her surprise when her confession, what she had seen was greeted with an understanding laugh from Namjoon and a flushed face by Yoongi. “So that’s where you went off too when you were supposed to be working on your mixtape- you asshole! I waited for 30 minutes for you!”

Now, most of the staff knew you by name- and knew not to ask what kind of weird relationship you had with the boys, not that they’d ever believed the truth of the matter. You were all good at hiding it and dodging any questions. But they did notice the marked shift since the hospital stay.

Everyone could put two and two together. Especially given how the boys were with you now compared to before.

They’ve been treating you so gently the last few weeks, so tenderly, even in front of the staff. Yoongi had brushed a hand across your cheek when they left for the meeting, and Jimin hadn’t seemed to want to let go of your hand. If any of the staff was watching the 8 of you, when you’d looked up- you hadn’t noticed. The assistant that usually babysat you when you were without one of your boyfriends (not without good reason- you’d gotten lost on more than one occasion wandering around the company before) gesturing you towards the leather couch in the corner where you could sit and watch the practice without fear of disturbing them.

You have another week until you can get the stitches out of your arms but the scars will stay for a while- if not for good. Your light blue sweatshirt is tight at the wrist; there isn’t a risk of your sleeve slipping up and any of them seeing. Before the Txt members can finish their current song the door to the training room opens. And a mask-clad Jungkook pokes his head in. You shoot up and gather your stuff.

You cast a quick glance around making sure that there aren’t any cameras around to record or microphones- it’s just a general practice so you shout. “Thanks for letting me kill some time cucumber!” before you hurry out the door.

Soobin’s reply comes with the start of “yah! Noona-“ but you don’t hear the rest of his protest at your weird nickname for him as the door closes behind you and Jungkook.

“How was the meeting?” you ask sweetly as you follow Jungkook, and you can see his eyes crinkle and know he’s smiling at you under his mask. The tips of his fingers brush yours after you’re done hooking your mask over your face. You’ll enter the car through the underground parking garage, but it never hurts to be extra safe in the face of paparazzi. “You guys figure out which one of you is going to be my fake boyfriend yet?”

“Yeah, there isn’t anything fake about me you brat,” Yoongi says as he exits his studio as you pass flicking you on the shoulder before running his fingertips down your arms gently, joining you and Jungkook on your way down the hall to the lounge room where the others wait. Yoongi like Jungkook only brushes fingers with yours though he does playfully tug on one of the strings of your hoodie- he’s in a good mood- but the heaviness in his eyes tells you that whomever they’ve decided for you it isn’t Jungkook or Yoongi.

At the same moment, Jimin passes on his way out too and almost stumbles when he sees you, that same heartbreaking boyish smile that makes his eyes disappear erupting on his face when he sees you.

Pulling you away from Yoongi and Jungkook and giving a careful glance around to make sure there aren’t any unwanted prying eyes. Pressing his lips to yours in hello when he realizes there aren’t. His plush lips sucking yours in a passionate kiss, one that seems a little resigned though.

“So it’s not you either,” you ask when you break apart. Jimin giggles, and shakes his head. “No, but I wanted to see you before I left, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be back later,”

“What are you doing?” you ask shyly, as Jimin kisses your fingertips, his fingers lingering on your rings you have there, small and perfect, a small red stone at the center of a delicately thin band. He slides one off your ring finger and puts it on his own, though it’s a tight fit. “This is pretty- who gave it to you?”

“Namjoon” you smile, letting him take it, you and Jimin are the type of couple who share jewelry all the time. “You never answered my question”

His answering smile is mischievous, “you’ll find out later,” he says, kisses you again quickly, letting his forehead rest against yours for a second.

“Number sweetheart?”

2 weeks earlier was when you’d devised the number system.

“If you’re not going to go to the hospital, then I think we should set up some rules- or just some things that could help you.”

You suck in your lower lip, hands tightening on the blanket in front of you. and Namjoon is already soothing a hand over yours. It’s a comfy night in, take out, your staple these days and everyone in pajamas. You yourself are in a cooky themed top and tata themed bottoms. All the others are piled around you likewise swathed in fluffy blankets propped up against pillows.

Someone had the bright idea of dragging two king-sized mattresses out into the living room a few days ago and you’ve all been sleeping out here, like a massive sleepover every night. It’s more out of necessity than anything else, after the second night that you’d slept home, you’d woken up to Yoongi sleeping in Namjoon’s chair again for the third night in a row, just to keep an eye on you. and this might not have been an ideal arrangement (everyone was woken up whenever someone stirred to use the restroom) it was better than that alternative.

You play with Seokjin's fingers in your lap, tracing along the double joints and the lines of his palms as he talks. “you promised you’d be more open with us Y/n. And you’ve tried before- you’ve tried to tell us how and I know it’s too hard for you. But maybe it will be better if we’re not all comparing notes and you give us something to jump off of.”

“And you know I’m not sure it if-if I can give you that.” you have to be open with them, even if it’s hard but sometimes, it’s just impossible for you to be open. When you say this, some of them look tired, some of them look a little angry. But what’s best is Jungkook leaning forward to take your hand, your feet in his lap “I understand,” he says, nodding a little, his fingers smooth over your knuckles in admonishment, His long curly hair falling in his eyes.

it’s Taehyung who suggests it, curled on his side, head half in Namjoon’s lap. “What if we devised something easier, some way that we can check in without feeling like we’re going to make you close off, kind of like the colors system.” You nod, as do the others. You’re all familiar with the stop light system for your more intimate encounters, enough that you all understand what he’s is getting at.

“So like- numbers you’re thinking?” Namjoon clarifies, sucking in his chin and mulling over the words in his head. his fingers absentmindedly trailing along Taehyung's jaw. below him, Tae basks in the affection, it looks like he would purr if he was a cat, but Namjoon is so thoughtful that he doesn't notice. “So like, 10 for like, needing to be checked into the hospital, and 1 for like, so happy I think everything could be okay?” he clarifies.

“I feel like it should go the other way maybe like 10 is happy, and 1 is sad,” it seems almost too simple to use those words but the others know what you mean. Sometimes it comes down to something just that simple.

“We should write it out,” Jimin says, standing up and almost falling over as he steps over bodies to get a nicer marker and a clean sheet of paper, switching back and forth with Namjoon, scrawling in elegant Hangul as you bounce things back and forth. Eventually coming up with this:

10- So happy that I think everything’s okay from now on. 9- A really really good day, 8- I’m gonna be okay probably for a few days after this, Cuz I feel so nice, 7- happy, (the feeling like when you get a hug and the warmth stays for a long time) 6- happy, might feel a little meh, but it’s nothing that’s getting in the way of everything. 5- I’m okay. 4- I’m not okay but I might be in a little bit. Be gentle with me, maybe don’t leave me alone. 3- Don’t leave me alone. Bug me to talk until I do (even if I don’t want to). 2- Don’t leave me alone, get everyone together, cancel whatever needs to be canceled. 1- Check me into the hospital.

Jimin is careful as he pens the last line. Thinking about the possibility of a one. The list gets pinned to the refrigerator, alongside a picture of the 7 of you (minus Seokjin who was behind the camera) all sprawled out and sleepy in the living room after a movie night.

It’s a few days until it’s used. But Jimin is surprised how much better it makes him feel when Taehyung asks you “number?” and you sit and think about it for a second, looking at the list on the fridge. “Probably a 4.5,” you say in a quiet voice, a little bit worried how it will be received, But it’s honest, and that’s all you promised to be with them. You’re feeling just the slightest edge towards delicate today.

Taehyung and Jimin spend the rest of their free time snuggling you and running their fingers through your hair until they have to go record. And throughout the evening and most of the afternoon, you sit in the corner of the recording booth watching the seven of them record a chorus until their throats hurt. Flashing them smiles and thumbs up whenever one of them turns to look at you.

“Number sweetheart?” Jimin asks, in the hallway after they’ve decided which of them will go public with your relationship.

You think for a moment, “probably a 6 or so.” Jungkook still lingering nearby, nods, then gestures you to follow. Jimin’s heart a little lighter after checking in that and making you’re okay, knowing that even if you weren’t the others knew and would take care of you. He takes a moment, Kissing you again, making it deeper this time, his hand on the small of your back, tongue licking at your lower lip hotly, before he’s breaking away again leaving you a little breathless and flustered.

“See you tonight!” he calls, dancing away, at the same moment you yell “Park Jimin you are a tease!”

It’s isn’t until you’re all back home that they tell you, Namjoon shyly looking down- trying to hide his dimples. As you shout “Joonie!” and hug him. His hands slipping over your shoulders, holding you tightly. His dimples and his smile incandescent.

“Ah I’m so jealous,” Seokjin comments behind you at one of the bar stools, though he doesn’t look all that upset with a lap full of Hoseok who seems to barely be paying attention, almost asleep in Seokjin’s lap.

He didn’t get a good night sleep last night- and you try not to think about why that is, and why he crawled into bed with you and Jungkook so early this morning either, all of them have a hard time leaving you alone- or going to sleep in general these days, especially since you’d taken apart the group bedroom in the living room and switched back into your usual sleeping arrangements.

“Your knees are so boney” he comments, shifting to sit better on Seokjin’s thighs. “Yah! Like your ass is any better!” Seokjin replies, but there’s no bite to any of it. Especially when Hoseok slumps against Seokjin’s shoulder. Tipping his head into Seokjin’s neck, a safe harbor despite the teasing, looking small and in need of protection in a way that he rarely asks for but sometimes needs.

At the same moment across the city, Jimin sits in the expensive and plush chair, the room is private enough where he can take off his bucket hat and his facemask, running his fingers through his hair before the manager enters his office after having left Jimin alone for a moment. “We’ve had it altered of course to your specifications. And changed the color as you specified in your last email.”

“Thank you for that, and for allowing me to respond via email.” they usually don't allow that, preferring in-person meetings for non-overseas clients. The manager nods, he knows who Jimin is, and has seen the copious amount of media coverage in the last few weeks. Enough to suspect why Jimin might be busy, and also might have put a rush on this. But the jewelry designer is one he picked particularly for Its anonymity as well as for its high-end designers.

The manager opens the velvet box carefully, and Jimin almost wants to sigh when he sees the engagement ring in the center, it’s hexagonal cut stones surrounded by a flurry of rose cuts in the shades of lightest pink. Glimmering in the lights. Jimin takes it, barely hesitating to feel the coolness of the stones. Already imagining it on your finger. Jimin nods, showing his approval before he slides your ring out of his pocket.

“This is exactly what I had in mind, when can I have it sized?”

(Please comment and reblog! Likes are nice, but they do little to support content creators!)

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theartofimaginaryfriends · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4 - Low Morale

Fic Series: The Final Straw (HP/PJO Crossover)

Premise: Nova and Payton reunite after four years, and the daughter of Hecate has a chat with Percy.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ilvermornymascot, @lukecastellandeservedbetter

Word Count: 1,355

A/N: The conversation between Nova and Percy wrote itself, and I had absolutely no control over it. So there’s things about my own OC that I didn’t even know until it ended up on the page XD the rest, however, was a bit of a struggle to write but we got there eventually! As usual, please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and please comment as it helps keep me motivated!

Nova sat on her bed struggling to pin the Head Girl Badge onto her cardigan and got increasingly frustrated as it weighed down the fabric. She wanted to get out of the room quickly to avoid being face-to-face with Payton, but the pin had other plans. "Hey, Nova."

"Wills." Nova went back to struggling, hoping the Gryffindor wouldn't say another word to her.

"Look, about fourth-year-" just her luck, she wanted to talk.

"I don't want to hear it."

"We're rooming together for the year," Payton rolled her eyes. "I'm just trying to make it easier for both of us."

"Alright, fine." The witch sighed and looked up.

"I was awful to you when you transferred to Hogwarts," she admitted. "And I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. Just please, give me a chance like you're doing with Draco."

"Why should I?" Nova kept a neutral expression.

"Voldemort was wrong," Payton continued. "I figured that out in Year Six, but I couldn't change sides no matter how much I wanted to. I was weak, and fell into a dark path because I didn't know where else to go."

"You get one shot to prove yourself. One." Nova gave in. Payton seemed truly remorseful of what she had done in the past – both to Nova and to her friends – and she had a point. If Nova was giving Malfoy a second chance, Payton deserved one too. "But if you try anything on myself or any of my friends, I will get you kicked out."

"I'll take it," Payton shrugged. Nova stood up, having given up on the badge, and searched through her trunk for a jacket. "What are you looking for?"

"The Head Girl badge isn't sitting right on my cardigan," Nova sighed. "I have a jacket that might support it better, but I don't know where it- Connor and Travis."

"What? Who?"

"Just a couple of friends from camp," Nova shook her head. "I need to find them to find my jacket, but I'll see you at the campfire. And if not the fire, then back in the room."

"Hold on," Payton grabbed the badge from Nova's bed and stopped the girl at the door. Nova tensed as Payton pinned it to her cardigan, and connected it to her shirt. She was stunned at the bold move the Hogwarts student made, not sure if she should punch her or back away.

"Thank you, but I really have to go." She left the building in a hurry, needing to get away from Payton before a panic attack ensued. She was overstepping a boundary already, and it hadn't even been a day, let alone an hour. Nova wasn't even sure why she agreed to give Payton a chance so quickly.

Before joining Lucas at the far end of the campfire, Nova sat down on one of the logs to take a breather. To distract herself, she looked around the area, noting the new additions to the residence. The lodges each donned an emblem of each house above the doors, distinguishing each building. This area was adjacent to the castle, and a bridge connected both areas. In front of the lodges, and a few feet from surrounding picnic tables, sat a massive firepit. It resembled the one at Camp Half-Blood, but it was designed to fit over six-hundred students as well as the staff.

Percy was sitting next to her, still in his uniform. He seemed more upset than before, and Nova spoke up in hopes to calm him down. "You know, most students are eager to get out of the uniform right after dinner."

"Most students haven't had to deal with watching their friends die due to a prophecy, going missing for months, and waking up with amnesia only to be forced into yet another prophecy," Percy complained. "I'm sick of doing the God's dirty work."

"That's why you stormed out."

"Wouldn't you?" He asked. "Especially since it seems like Chiron and the Headmaster dude knew it was coming."

"I suppose," she replied. "And whether or not they knew, it's for the best that both communities become friends rather than enemies."

"Annabeth disagrees," Percy sighed. "She doesn't think this is a good idea. I tried to remind her that she had the same mindset with the Romans, but that was hopeless."

"Are you two doing okay?" Nova asked.

"Everything's been weird since the breakup," he shrugged. "We're still friends, but it's been hard to adjust back to it. At least it is for Annabeth. Apparently she had a crush on me for a long time before we started dating."

"Percy, everyone knew about her crush except you," Nova snickered. "Gods, it was kind of painful to watch."

"Yeah, I've heard that quite a bit," he chuckled darkly. Percy shifted so that he fully faced Nova. "Look, I'm sorry. After I came back from that quest, I distanced myself from most of the Hermes cabin. After what happened with Luke..."

"That hit us hard," she shook her head. "Even his death... Luke wasn't a bad guy, just misguided. The two of you became really close, so I don't see a reason for you to apologize."

"No, I know," Percy said. "But you and I were close, too. Closer than I ever was with Annabeth. I just... I regret pushing you away."

"We'll talk about it later," Nova sighed. She hadn't thought about it in years. Percy would cut their conversations short and made any and every excuse to stay away from her. No one noticed, with Nova keeping to herself most of the time. Eventually, Percy had mostly forgotten about her. The witch didn’t care about that now, but back then it was painful. "It's been a long day, and we've got an hour before the campfire if you want to change out of the uniform."

"Nova- yeah, you're right," Percy stood up, failing to mask his disappointment. "I'll see you later, then."

He began walking away, until Nova stopped him.

"Percy?" The son of Poseidon stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his friend. "I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks," he smiled. "Same on my end, alright?"

"Yeah," Nova smiled back. Percy made his way towards the Thunderbird cabin, and Nova circled around the pit to Lucas. They had to talk to the prefects about their duties for the rest of the year. The Head Girl explained what to do if any demigods got into fights, and wouldn't listen if asked to stop. She was instructing them on how to deal with Clarisse La Rue specifically when Chiron announced that the final activity of the evening would begin in fifteen minutes.

Most of the demigods showed up, and a small group of the wizards did. The numbers made the divide between everyone even more obvious. The wizards collected in a small semicircle, the demigods taking up the rest of the area. Some of the staff tried to encourage them to disperse and enjoy it together, but Headmaster Tahamente stopped them. It was only the first night, this was expected.

The campfire began with the Ilvermorny school anthem, the Headmaster using magic to write the words in the sky for everyone to follow along. After that, they alternated to sing the songs Camp Half-Blood was familiar with, as well as campfire songs that the wizards were familiar with. The flames at the campfire flickered between gold and purple, the tension in the air showing the low morale within the group. Most of the demigods didn’t even have their hearts in the sing-along, no matter how much the Apollo Cabin tried.

At the end, the Headmaster and Chiron bid the students a good night, and everyone went off to bed. The atmosphere grew even more awkward than before, and no one seemed in the mood to hang out until curfew. The common room was completely empty, everyone had gone to their rooms. Nova hoped she wouldn't be woken up to resolve any issues on the first night, as she shut the curtains on her four-poster. The last thing she needed was more drama.

#harry potter #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #harry potter/percy jackson crossover #harry potter/percy jackson crossover fic

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van-dyne · 5 years

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am i just too much of a petty bitch or am i right in my discontent by the fact that steve never actually apologizes to tony, even after his speach and everything?

anon it’s like you read my mind,,, I was also making a post regarding this so might as well just put it here.

The confrontational scene when Tony got back from space was great, really great, it was such a performance on Robert’s part and as Tony fan I feel vindicated because he finally got to say what we’ve been saying the whole time. But the thing is while it was great to have Tony just spelled out how he felt in front of everyone but the movie lacks the acknowledgement from the others? (apart from worried!Rhodey who was like, okay Tony, just sit down a bit, you made your point.) From the beginning to the end, it was just a one-side confrontation, and Tony ended it himself with him passing out after the outburst. It was a great moment and I wouldn’t change how that scene was played out, but it kept me waiting for the response from Steve, and it never came. Steve never sought out Tony after that and have a conversation about what had happened between them. We never get any real resolution regarding their fallout in the movie.

Marvel purposefully set up the tension between Steve and Tony from the very first Avengers movie, and then carried on to highlight their differences in AoU, and then broke them up in Civil War, and then the Russos kept saying the reason why the Avengers failed in IW was because Steve and Tony were apart. So having that all built up and into Endgame, you would expect them to have a heart-to-heart conversation about all that had happened between them, an apology, an understanding, an acknowledgement, from the both of them. Instead we get a 5 year time jump and then when Steve sought Tony out was for business and you can clearly see that the tension between them accumulated from all those years was still there. It can be assumed that they hadn’t properly resolve anything. And then later Tony just decided he was over it and put aside the any hard feelings and gave Steve back the shield. Like @kayytx had said they always made Tony too forgiving and Steve never ever had to say or do anything to earn Tony’s friendship and trust back. To me it almost feels like as if the writers think oh it was just Tony being dramatic and they’d be fine once Tony was done being angry and Steve didn’t have to prove or say anything and everything will go back to how things were! The movie never had Steve to address the elephant in the room on his part, and just like that we’re supposed to accept the resolution between them when nothing had actually been said or done in order to resolve.

The little time travel trip was fun and it was nice to see them enjoy each other’s company but to me that was the highlight of their relationship interaction in this movie, we never get any deeper and more sincere emotions from Steve other than answering Tony that yes he trusted him. (Notice how even that was a question asked by Tony.) Even after Tony’s death, we didn’t get anything said from Steve in memory of him that could be an emotional payoff of their friendship that had been explored in all the previous movies. Endgame is the movie they promised closure from Civil War - a movie that they deliberately set to break them up so to pay off in later movies, but I don’t see this promise delivered? If they’re gonna end it the way the movie is ended, with no real resolution from both sides, then what’s the point to have the drama from civil war in the first place?? Seeing them being buddies again in that time travel trip was not enough, some ‘silent understanding’ and body language between the two of them was not enough, because that’s just subtext, Steve owed it to Tony to explicitly say it in his words, even as simple as ‘Listen… Tony I’m sorry about what happened’ I’m not asking him to apologise for his choice in civil war, I’m not expecting an apology as sincere as the one in Zootopia when Judy apologised to Nick, I’m just asking him to explicitly say his regret as a friend who had lied to a friend and had literally broke his friend’s heart. Like yeah you may say that Steve felt that way from his expression but Tony deserved to hear it from him. A thank, an apology, an acknowledgement, anything but no. He got none, we got nothing.

It’s been a habit of the Russos and the writers, throughout all the movies, there barely has any recognition, acknowledgement or gratitude explicitly said to or about Tony from the Avengers (excluding the Iron fam because they do let him know). They always just let Tony or Tony’s action to speak for itself, and then it’s up to audience interpretation, and while I appreciated that they give Tony a voice, he rarely gets any support and acknowledgement in-universe from his teammates. Tony is always the one who gives and forgives, when shit happens that somehow related to him he’d get all the blame and the Avengers and others wouldn’t hesitate to remind him; when he saves the day and provides them with what they need, how many ever express their thanks and appreciation to him in person over the years? Yeah you can say not everything needs to be said, but it would be nice for once someone from the team actually say something nice to him, appreciate his effort, but I suppose it’s all too late now.

#endgame spoilers #tony stark #stevetony #avengers endgame #marvel meta #ask #Anonymous #a4 spoilers #my post

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fae-fucker · 4 years

Text

Zenith: Chapter 56-59

Chapter 56

We’re in Andi’s POV. She’s angsting, as usual, about how she’s a bad person and all that stuff, but now that she and Valen have exchanged apologies and everyone else is partying down, she will allow herself to get wasted and dance for real, which is significant because she only pretends to dance. With ghosts. Yeah, remember that bit? I wish I didn’t.

Andi finds herself looking for Dex Dogtective and thinking about how they used to bone good, but she’s acting all tsundere about it:

The two of them together were like Griss and Rigna. They just didn’t mix well.

We still don’t know what Griss and Rigna is, and I bet we never will! I’m assuming it’s some sort of booze, in which case ... I mean I’m no expert but some specific types of Earth booze go together. We don’t exactly know the effects of neither Griss nor Rigna or how they interact in the same system to have this comparison make sense to us.

But sure, uuh, deep sci-fi worldbuilding, I guess.

Andi asks Valen if he’s ready and that this isn’t one of their military balls and they can just “live,” and Valen is like “how does one live” and Andi’s like “lets find out together” and it’s very deep, trust me, I promise.

They see the Unified Systems flag and Valen makes a comment about “them” not deserving to be on the flag. Andi assumes he’s talking about the Olen System, where Xen Pterra is, and we get yet another exposition dump about how Xen Pterra was running out of resources and attacked the other systems for not helping. Which, and forgive me if I’ve said this before, doesn’t make any sense? Wars are expensive, resources spent in armed conflict could have been used to help out the planet instead. I dunno if Shinsay are trying to make a Statement about people in power caring more about warfare than their own populations, but I’d be very surprised if they went that route and didn’t play this as straight as they seem to be.

Shinsay introduce yet another type of booze. Andi and Valen drink it. It’s good shit. They go dancing.

She felt weightless.

Like a starship made of glass.

... but with metal shields that pop out when it needs extra protection. See, this metaphor could’ve been good if any thought went into it beyond “does this make me sound deep?”

Chapter 57

Dex is already tipsy and he’s thinking about how hot Andi is in ... interesting terms.

Andi, with her “stab you in the balls and laugh at you as you scream” eyes.

I ... What?

Pro tip: When having a character describe someone they find desirable and you want to convey that to the reader, avoid using the word “balls” anywhere in that description.

Just some advice<3 xoxo love u

Anyway, Dex watches Andi have fun with Valen and the crew and decides he wants in on that. He approaches Andi and it’s all supposedly very sexy. He notes that she’s drunk and he’s also tipsy I guess but even though she’s “not thinking straight” his “body” wants this so they go in for a smooch when

DUN DUN DUUN

Something explodes and the chapter ends.

Riveting.

Chapter 58

The Xen Pterrans are attacking. Lon gets instantly wounded because drama. Dex pulls Andi to the ground and covers her with his body. It would’ve been exciting and/or touching if I cared. Alas.

Chapter 59

We’re in Valen’s POV. He’s having flashbacks to his torture. He’s about to get shot by a Xen Pterran when:

“No!” Valen shouted. “No! Not me!” He closed his eyes and waited for the shot. But instead, a body brushed past his. Valen opened his eyes, and the soldier was gone.

Valen tries to hide and sees Andi and the rest of the crew being all badass. He’s starting to have a severe flashback and is about to lose his grip on reality when Andi snaps him out of it with a smack to the head (don’t do this IRL) and says they have to run. Valen sees the Xen Pterran ships overhead (???) and the crest on them (?????), which is the Solis family crest. It reminds him of Nor and we get this:

A queen of death and darkness, seated upon a throne of the galaxy’s bones.

I didn’t italicize this because this entire sentence was italicized in the book. No idea why. To make it more epic, I guess?

This post is a bit on the short side because the chapters are on the short side and nothing really happens in them despite there being plenty of potential for interesting character development, so I figured I’d take this opportunity to make some observations.

The multiple POV shit is so, so bad, if you guys hadn’t noticed. I’m sparing you a lot of trouble by recapping with minimal quotes. So why don’t I think it works here?

To pull off good multiple POVs, you need strong character voices. Dex is the only character who has anything close to a character voice at all, which isn’t saying much. Lira would be next, then Andi/Nor, whose narrations sound almost identical and I’m pretty sure that’s not intentional, and then we have Valen, who has literally nothing going for him. When all of the characters sound the same and make similar observations using similar thought processes about the same events, there’s no reason for them to have their own POV.

The POV flipping takes you out of the action. I understand that Shinsay are trying to show us how the same event affects different characters, but they forget that they’re showing the same event over and over, though we don’t stay long enough with any of the characters for us to actually see how they’re affected. It ends up becoming a disjointed mess of different people describing the same event. This is not necessary and doesn’t add anything to the story, rather it removes any well-needed tension and excitement by breaking up the action.

Building off the last point, we don’t stay long enough with anyone to really get a good feel for who they are as people. We just jump around fanfic-like from different heads just so Shinsay can have their OCs jerk each other off about how cool their moves are. It’s extremely pointless. Multiple POVs isn’t just about getting a new angle on the same cool action shot the hero does, it’s about getting us closer to the character whose head we’re in.

Back on the topic of the “plot”: Did nobody, like, look up, at this festival? How would the Xen Pterran fleet already be not only in position, but close enough to the surface where Valen can see their crests? Did nobody notice the strange ships hovering above their heads? On a planet that supposedly doesn’t have a significant starfleet? Surely that’d be something people would find at least alarming?

Also, why did Xen Pterra attack the one planet that posed no threat to them in a military sense? It sounds like my question answers itself but think about it. Now Arcardia, which is famously military, will have time to prepare and launch a counter-attack. Surely you’d want to focus your surprise attack on the strongest opponent to hopefully take them out of the fight quickly and then pick off the rest? Or, in this case, hope to brainwash them into submission and then use their resources on the other allies? If I remember correctly, this was supposed to be a “test run” to see if Zenith works, but is that really a risk they can take by alerting the enemy to their new cool superweapon?

Well, except I’m pretty sure Arcardia doesn’t launch any counter-attack and barely even prepares for war at all, so I guess I’m expecting too much of ... well, all of it.

Really need to stop doing that.

When will I learn!

#eff reads: zenith

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crossbows-and-moonshine · 5 years

Text

Such a Softer Sin (Chapter seventeen)

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four)

(Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight)

(Chapter nine) (Chapter ten) (Chapter eleven) (Chapter twelve)

(Chapter thirteen) (Chapter fourteen) (Chapter fifteen)

(Chapter sixteen)

This one's kinda short because the next one will be pretty long, and I don't want to make it even longer by adding this part to it. Hopefully you’ll still enjoy it.

Murphy talks to Lila about Connor, and Connor tries to fix shit.

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When Murphy got back inside the apartment, he saw Lila at the sink washing the dishes from their wonderful birthday breakfast. His heart ached when he heard her sniffling and he had to fight the strong urge to go down and beat some sense into his brother's thick skull. It was rare that he’d seen Connor act like that, like him. Connor always acted so reserved, almost like feelings got in the way. Murphy wondered what that was like. He had always been over emotional. He felt too strongly to the point it overwhelmed him, and now it seemed his brother was getting a taste of what that was like. Murphy wasn’t stupid, he’d made his peace a while back that they were both in love with the pretty redhead. The night they had both told her they loved her in different languages. Connor didn't seem to have a memory of it though since he was more inebriated than everyone else and Murphy hadn't mentioned it to his brother. He wondered if he hadn't told Connor because he knew his brain would fucking short circuit and turn him into an asshole.

He wasn't sure what fucking alternate universe they entered on their birthday that warranted his brother being overly emotional and rude and leaving Murphy to do the damage control, but he didn’t fucking like it. He wasn't used to being the responsible one. He was much more comfortable screaming at someone or crying like a little bitch. This responsible fixer bullshit, that wasn't his jam. He walked over to Lila, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his chin on her shoulder. She stopped washing the dishes, relaxing and leaning into him, resting her hand over his on her belly. It made his chest swell that she didn’t mind him holding her this way.

“He doesn’t mean it m’girl, he’s just...overwhelmed. Ye know how he is, ain’t used te it.” He sighed regretfully, soaking her in as he held her like this. He hadn't done this before and it felt even more intimate than their hugs somehow. Maybe it was how her ass pressed against his cock or the way he had a good view down her top at this angle, he wasn't sure, didn’t really fucking care, but he just knew he liked it. Lila had some time to think when she was washing the dishes and she knew deep down Connor hadn’t meant to be so rude or hurtful, he wasn't the type to be spiteful, but it still hurt.

“I know. I just...wanted to do something nice for you both.” She said sadly.

Murphy let her go, he really didn't want to, he was loving holding her that way, but he wanted to look at her. He turned her around, his hands slowly trailing up her arms, making her suppress a shiver at his touch. She blinked up at him as he looked down at her adoringly, his hands sliding over her shoulders and settling on the sides of her neck, his fingers stroking the base of her skull where her hair started.

“Ye did love, I promise. He just needs some time te wrap his head around it. It’s been an emotional mornin’ aye?” He smiled softly, she nodded and tried to give him a smile back but it was far too weak for Murphy's liking, so he decided to tell her more. He took her hand and lead her to Connors bed, getting her to sit down and sitting opposite her. He kept a hold of her hand in his, rubbing his thumbs over it.

“Ye already know by now how different we can be m’girl. Ye know how emotional I can get, but Connor...he’s never been that way. He's always been so careful, locked away. He ain't really used te lettin’ things in, ye know? Sometimes it's like...he acts like feelin’s just get in the way or somethin’ if its anyone but me. He's usually closed off. I think everythin’ just got on top o’ him, but he’ll be fine. And I can guarantee he’s feelin’ like shit right now about it.” He said sincerely, opening up to her. She was grateful he did. The thing with Murphy was that he opened up to her a lot. It was easier to get information out of him and he had no issues with being honest with her. Connor was always more secretive, a little more closed off like Murphy had said. It was just who they are and she loved them both the way they were.

Lila nodded, his words did help a little and she hoped when his lighter haired counterpart returned he would be in a better mood. It was their birthday after all.

“So...do you like your gift?” She asked carefully, wanting to switch directions to forget the sting of Connors rejection. His beaming smile was an answer of itself and she laughed lightly at how adorable he was.

“Aye m’girl, I fuckin’ love it. I can’t even...you've made it harder for when yer birthday comes around. We’ll have te buy ye a diamond fuckin’ ring te top these off.” He hadn't really meant to say it, it was as if his subconscious had pushed it out of his mouth after the things he had been thinking, and it was like the air suddenly changed as the words left his mouth. Lila blinked at him for a moment, surely the ring comment had not been meant the way it had sounded, no, she was imagining things obviously. Murphy shifted in his seat, wishing for a time machine so he could go the fuck back and stop himself from blurting that fucking shit out of his mouth. But she hadn't said anything about it, he wondered if she thought he was joking, he fucking hoped so.

He was oh so grateful when the door to the loft opened and Connor walked in, looking guilty as hell and like he was expecting them both to shout at him. Murphy stayed quiet, he wanted to let them sort it the fuck out, he’d have it out with his brother after for the shit he had said to him. Lila looked at him, Connor sucked in a breath seeing the hurt behind her eyes and he sighed. He was once more composed, but he was still feeling the after-effects from his emotional lapse. He walked over hesitantly, stopping beside the bed.

It was all too awkward for any of their likings as Lila and Connor looked at each other. Murphy was looking between them both, waiting for one of them to fucking say something, but they never did. He fought the urge to hit their heads together. He didn't want to say anything, it wasn't really his place, so instead, he opted to reach out to his brother telepathically and give him an urging nudge. Connor glanced to Murphy, clearly feeling it and Murphy gave him a pointed look. It wasn't like Connor to be so fucking difficult.

“M’sorry lass.” He finally blurted out. Murphy almost fucking cheered that words had managed to leave his lips. But he could tell by the look on Lila’s face that wasn't enough, she wanted an explanation from him. She’d already kind of had one from Murphy, but she wanted to hear from the man himself. Connor tugged his lower lip through his teeth and he shifted on his feet, he felt so fucking uncomfortable. Talking about his feelings with anyone but Murphy was like pulling teeth from him, he hated it.

“I didn’t mean te act that way. T’is Murphy's job te overreact, not mine.” He started, trying to crack a joke to clear the air, even if it was an awful one. Murphy snorted a little and shook his head.

“I just...I got overwhelmed lass, and I hope ye can forgive me. I love the car, I promise ye I do. And I can’t ever think o’ a proper way te thank ye. I shouldn't have acted like I was ungrateful, ‘cause that ain't the case, I was just shocked is all.” He, of course, left out the part about realising he was in love with her, that wasn't really the talk he wanted to have today. The answer was good enough for Lila though, he’d practically told her just what Murphy had but she needed to hear it from him. She gave him a warm smile and a nod and Murphy could see the tension slip away from Connor as he returned the smile.

The door knocked and Lila got up to answer it, making her out of earshot of the brothers.

“No apology for me then brother?” Murphy huffed with a glare as he stood up. Connor heaved a sigh and looked guilty as he looked away from his brother.

“Ye know I didn’t mean it Murph.” He said regretfully. Murphy scoffed and shook his head. He knew he was overreacting, but as Connor had said, it was what Murphy did. He had been hurt terribly by his twin throwing what he did to Lila in his face, especially since Connor knew just how much it bothered Murphy.

“Is it really that hard for ye te just fuckin’ say it?” Murphy asked with a frown. Connor didn't have time to reply though as they were both grabbed into a bear hug by their favourite hairy friend.

“Happy birthday fuck faces! Enjoy the treats from your girl?” Rocco grinned, moving away and frowning a little at their faces.

“The fuck did I miss?” He asked confused, glancing between the two sour faces.

“The usual MacManus drama.” Lila snorted as she walked over to the oven, grabbing a plate full of food she had made and left there to keep warm for her friend. He beamed a smile as he sat at the table and started devouring it, muttering how the boys should have a birthday every day if he got treated like this.

Lila looked at the boys and walked out to the fire escape, and they knew to follow. When they joined her, she tilted her head and looked them both over.

“I don't know what was said after I left, but you two sort it the fuck out because it's your birthday. I’m not having you fighting on your birthday like this, or any day for that matter. You both know deep down you love each other, whatever was said doesn't matter, it doesn't change that. Now kiss and make up.” She demanded before she climbed back in the window to leave them to it. The boys watched after her with raised brows, once again shocked that she knew something was amiss with them and wanted them to patch it up. Even in their brief casual relationships, the lasses seemed like they wanted to tear the brothers apart, even making comments about their closeness and how it was weird. Trying to turn the brothers against each other. Yet here Lila was, always demanding them to make up and hating it when they fought. They were grateful for her, and once again they were reminded of their Ma, they knew she would like the fiery lass.

“Look Murphy I’m sorry, alright? Ye know I didn’t mean it, I lashed out. I think ye know better than anyone that ye don't always mean what ye say when ye lash out.” Connor sighed, looking at his brother apologetically. Murphy inhaled deeply, calming himself for Lila's sake. He could easily stay mad at his twin for about a week or more for this, that's how stubborn he was, but for Lila, he decided to let it go. He nodded and gave his brother a smile, it widened and Connor pulled him into a hug. When they moved away, Connor pat his cheek affectionately.

“We’re lucky bastards aye? A fuckin’ camera and a car.” Connor laughed incredulously, Murphy grinned as he looked through the window at Lila talking to Rocco with a smile on her face.

“Aye, real lucky.” He beamed, ruffling Connors hair with a laugh before he climbed in the window, listening to Connor grumble behind him.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28

#boondock saints #boondock saints fanfic #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus fanfic #connor macmanus #connor macmanus fanfic

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thejackal64 · 5 years

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Pillars of Magic: Paradox | Chapter 4: Within the Walls

Piano keys were being taped without fingers somewhere in the marketplace, along with the strings of a lute playing itself. The song was pleasant, like the first warming breeze of Spring kissing goodbye chilled Winter days. Some men and their ladies danced.

The music, the sounds of people buying and selling their wares, the clatter of silverware against plates from outdoor restaurants, the happily laughing women, all had been a comforting presence that surrounded Star in an embrace all its own every time she was able to travel to the square. But now, all of the to-do became a single merged unwanted din to her ears, and none of it at all as comforting as before. It was a cloud of chaos that she was intent on escaping as quickly as possible.

She rushed past a couple of other concubines, accidentally bumping into them and nearly tripping on her long shimmering gown.

Star stammered an incoherent 'So-orry!' not sparing them a glance. But with the jostle of the crowd, nobody heard much of anything and didn't take the time for pleasantries towards the people they knocked into. She kept her eyes forward, her feet run-jumping, as fast as they could carry her out to the front of the pavilion where a great marble fountain marked the place of transit.

The fountain was an entire story tall, with jets of water constantly surging out from the horns of a dozen floating stone-faced pony heads encircling around its base. The water danced with an array of colors; it shifted hues as it traveled through the air before diving back into the fountain, only to rain down like a multicolored waterfall into the holding pool below. It was a portrait of calm nestled within the chaos.

Cars hovered around the fountain as they speedily pulled up curbside to take on their passengers. Valets got out, still taking a brief moment to bow to their fares as they hurried inside the magical vehicles. Some of the vehicle doors opened up like the wings of eagles, while others slid up or away on invisible tracks.

Without pause Star waved down one of the drivers, jumping into the humming machine as soon as the door had opened wide enough to allow her to squeeze through.

"Where to, miss?" asked the surprised driver. "Reports are coming in of a monster in the pavillion?"

She barked like a thief that was trying to make a getaway from the scene of a crime.

"I don't know, just drive to anywhere, just not here!"

"Excuse me, my lady?"

The driver furrowed his brow, unsure that he'd been spoken to in the manner that he'd heard, and doubly unsure if the panic residing in the young woman's eyes was simply due to the lights from the aether-tech gauges reflecting therein, or if she truly was in need of some kind of assistance. He wasn't certain whatever was happening in the marketplace wasn't just a publicity stunt of over-hyped drama. He had been so startled from the speed at which he took on his new guest that he couldn't be sure if maybe he was seeing in her face, or hearing in her voice, things that weren't there.

He got into the vehicle and adjusted the mirror to better see his frazzled, but elegantly dressed, passenger, almost ignoring all others, or at least the notion of panic in the area.

"Uurm, that is," Star quickly worked to calm herself, giggling lightly back at his questioning stare, "…that is to say, anywhere away from all of this commotion!"

She exaggerated breathily, fanning her hand in front of her face for effect. She hoped, secretly, that she wouldn't actually pass out while she tried to relax her racing heart.

"It has made me dizzy, with all the lights and sounds."

"Ah, I understand, miss!"

The driver tipped his hat to her in the rearview mirror while his face once again took on a calm rosy exterior, his mind returned back to its ignorant cradle of worriless, wealthy Mewnian peace. He drove around-about the fountain and began to head away.

"A pretty lady like yourself needs to take a bit better care not to become overwhelmed. It is lovely though, isn't it, Mewni at night? It could easily make someone less accustomed to traveling faint just from the sight."

He had noticed her collar, and began to head towards the concubine district, presuming that the market square was all new to her, and that she'd been sorely out of her element.

"You like a water, miss?" he asked, pushing a button on his console before awaiting a response.

An armrest lowered itself next to her. The top portion of it drew back into itself, a small hidden platform elevating up a more than ample liter bottle of clear, cold water. Within the bottle was a single frost-glow orb, resembling a golf-ball-sized blue marble that constantly emitted an icy chill while wet, fading in and out with almost breathing neon light.

She shyly took hold of the glass bottle in her hand. It misted over her face and hands when she cracked the top open to drink. As she sipped the refreshing liquid, she realized just how much she truly was grateful for it, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. The large bottle continued to spill a foggy vapor out the top even when she had stopped drinking.

"Thank you," she said.

The heartbeats in her ears finally began to slow down as her breath did the same, looking out the window and seeing that the night had indeed come on rather quickly. The marketplace was so far in the distance she felt she could let her nerves relax just a little.

But in the absence of adrenaline her thoughts began to take over, hissing sentences from the depths of her mind as if they slithered out from the mouths of the nameless people in the square, and all at once. They were demanding answers, shouting with countless fingers pointing her way, volleying doubts against her back while they clawed at her resolve.

How could you leave your caretakers that loved you so? Look at your fine dress, your collar, your headband. How could you ever leave your only friends behind? Willow's heart will break. Can you live with knowing they suffer in silence as you go free? Don't you know your place?

Worse still, she wasn't sure where her new place would be. Concubines had keepers or served in the pleasure palaces. It was wholly unacceptable in society for a concubine to live on their own.

The voices persisted: Why are you so selfish in thinking that there is a better life than what you had? What are you even good for?

She pushed through her reservations, through the newfound fear that was making her fingers tremble; they clutched the water bottle harder. Did she really deserve anything better or should she have just been thankful for what she had, especially since she would now lose everything she'd ever known?

She refused to go back. There was only forward, no matter the cost, or where it led.

It was all Star could do to keep her head against the limousine's window, trying not to allow the quiet rumble of it to allow those thoughts to enter in again. A slight line of light passed over her, waking her from her troubled reverie. The arc gate scanner had passed through the car, signaling their entry into the concubine district.

"Wait, driver? Can you take me to," she hesitated, leaning forward in her leathery seat; she knew she couldn't ask to be dropped off just anywhere, and especially not directly on the outskirts of Mewni; instead she offered, "erm, to uh, the industrial district?"

"The industrial district? Are you quite all right, miss? What would a pretty thing like you be doing down in the industrial district?"

"Oh, it's where my uh, client is I need to see."

The driver narrowed his lips, remaining quiet a while before tilting his head back to speak, without taking his eyes from the road.

"Forgive me, my lady, but you're not exactly dressed for being in that district, if I may be so bold to say."

Star knew he meant to say something regarding the lower classed workers not being able to afford a concubine of her caliber, but to his credit he did rephrase the question in a way that was palatable for the ears. She played the game.

"Well, this is a very special occasion for one of the factory owners. It's his retirement party."

"Ah, my apologies! Say no more," he said with a knowing wink.

Star had never even come close to descending into lower Mewni. She was used to being able to see the sky overhead, with its wispy clouds and occasional advertisements, the colorful array of birds that sang cheerfully in the gardens, and the lush planted trees and shrubs dutifully placed all around for decor. But as the driver drove she saw less and less of the sky, fewer instances of green and other bright colors. The open air and pretty sights of upper Mewni were slowly replaced, covered over by pillars and support structures, multiple bridges and stonework, all completely enveloping everything overhead.

The vehicle drove down the many sloping layers of Mewni that squeezed out natural light, heading deeper and deeper into the lower parts of it. As Star watched out her window she was confused and amazed at how different the worldview became, and how surrounded she was by architecture on all conceivable sides. The wealthy of Mewni simply built their world on top of the former, poorer structures, lower Mewni serving merely as the elite's groundwork, forgetting and ignoring the downtrodden, literally concealing them from sight.

They continued on for the better part of an hour until they arrived at the industrial district's arc gates. The vehicle hovered along the roadway which became less fancy of inlaid flagstone and instead more like cobblestone. The buildings in the district, even though roofed-over by other buildings and roadways above them, were far taller than any of the grand manors Star had been used to seeing, which said a lot. Even though the factories were meant for the inventing of future aether-tech, their lofty exteriors were spotlessly clean, like palaces that hadn't yet been adorned by splashes of color from an artist's brush. Their outsides were lit all around and gave off a very sterile, almost medical building vibe. Smokestacks coiled around the exteriors and rose upwards, disappearing into the city's framework beyond Star's visibility. Somewhere higher in upper Mewni they emerged, spewing various colorful plumes out that, during the daylight hours, would appear as if they were manufacturing rainbows.

When they had gone far enough down, Star signaled the driver to let her out in front of one of the factory buildings. She had chosen one that looked both a bit more regal, but which also had the least amount of people milling around. Luckily, even though the laborers worked at all hours, designing and developing twenty-four-seven, there were fewer workers around during the dinner hour.

At least she would have that as an advantage, she thought, as she got out of the vehicle and tipped the driver with the few pieces of silver she had left in her small handbag. As the vehicle hovered away she sighed at the emptiness in her purse, then started the long walk through the industrial district, keeping her head down and trying not to attract anyone's attention.

The industrial district was the last vestige of what would be considered proper Mewni. Wealthy Mewmans wanted as much separation between themselves as the poorer Mewmans, and the factory buildings served as a suitable buffer zone between those that could afford aether-tech, and those that could not. Going further was something inconceivable.

Quietly, she followed along roadways that crept ever downward.

Eventually the factories began to lessen in stature and number, the cobblestones giving way to flat grey cement, devoid of any character or warmth. The further Star traveled on its drab surface, the more pock-marked and fissured it seemed to get with lack of upkeep or care, and the more out of place she appeared among the changed landscape.

There wasn't a single road in the Mewni she was acquainted with that wasn't bathed in aether light; but in this strange subterranean Mewni, there was a shortage of streetlights and lights coming from the very buildings themselves. The sparkling gauges covering every surface were not present. Any light at all came from fogged windows from the insides of the buildings. Instead of fine marble and well-maintained clay, the buildings were crafted from bricks and mortar, left almost forgotten by time, covered with cracks and grime.

"So dark," Star whispered to herself. She wasn't used to nighttime not being lit up enough to compensate for daylight, especially in a place completely enclosed with buildings that didn't feel the touch of the sun. "Well, everything should look better by tomorrow," she hoped, finding comfort in her own thoughts as she slowly followed what little light she could see until it cast her shadow long behind her. The light steadily increased as she got closer, finally coming up to a gateway of a kind she'd never seen before. She could only guess which type of gates they were, presuming them to be aether-driven due to their incessant glow, with a hue like cherry blossoms.

The aether-gates were large expanses of humming, pinkish light that stretched like a rippling transparent barrier, as if water could be controlled and held in a wall-like vertical plane so thin you could see through to the other side, albeit murkily. The barriers were wide enough to allow the width of a car, like arc gates, but it wasn't simple light beams that scanned passengers going through. The forcefield was a solid plane of magical current preventing all physical entry unless the field itself was disabled by the guards.

She'd only heard whispers of their existence, which prevented lesser-classed Mewmans from passing into zones meant for higher-classed citizenry… by force. The rumor was that touching the forcefield beam meant instant debilitating shock which would render the victim unconscious, or worse. A solid wall was built high enough on either side that they were load-bearing to the many countless floors higher above. There was no way to get further below in Mewni except by aether-gate access.

Star stood there, transfixed by the swirling patterns reaching from one side of the gate to the other. It was a pretty light, and stood out as much as her attire compared to the drab, crumbling surroundings.

There was a guard posted at each end of the beam, and a panel inset on both metal pillars behind them that cast out their portion of the glowing aether-shield. It wasn't long before the pinkish barrier-light caught her gown and sent a dazzling display of sparkles into the dull eyes of the guards, stealing away their attention. They locked onto her, their chuckling words cut off mid-sentence. Confusion from both sides kept the silence in the air palpable for a lengthy minute, before one of the guards finally spoke.

"You there, miss!"

Star visibly shuddered from the shout, bracing for further word impact. She scrambled for thoughts on how to convince the guards to let her pass. To her dismay, the guard that had spoken softened his tone and ushered a hand wave for her to come forward.

"Come, come. Don't be shy."

Star didn't want to appear as if she had the backbone of a mouse, so she stiffened her spine and walked forward with intent. She made a conscious effort to keep her chin up and her footsteps purposeful, her eyelids not overly wide as if she would bolt at the first sign of her pan unraveling.

"Not often we see a beautiful woman like you in these parts," the guard said. "This gate will take you down into the Alleys. Is that where you're headed?

Star had never heard of the Alleys, but she acted like she'd been there countless times.

"Yes, of course."

"You have the Gate Allowance?"

At this she hesitated, looking to the other guard, who offered, "The Pink Slip," which didn't help her one bit towards acknowledging whatever it was they wanted. She looked through her empty purse for the imaginary pink slip that she was pretending should be within. Her fingers ruffled the bag's interior aimlessly while her mind sought for excuses, her heartbeat starting to put an edge on her nerves.

"Ehh, you have it?" the first guard asked, his eyes captivated more so on her chest and dress than the charade she was desperately attempting to pull off, looking through her bag.

"No, I'm sorry. I must have left it in my other bag. Could I still pass? After all," she quickly chuckled, "I wouldn't want to be here if I didn't have a reason."

"I dare say not!" the guard laughed. "But, even so, if you got business down there, I need some sort of ID."

She fumbled and stopped looking through her purse, turning her eyes up to him.

"I don't really have anything other than the pink slip… it had everything on it I needed." She looked down, fluttering her eyelashes and sighing as if she might cry. "But it took a while to get down here. Don't make me go back all that way back just for the slip. I have business I have to do and will get in trouble if I don't get it done."

The second guard shook his head. "We can't let you pass without it. I would, and he would, but it's our jobs on the line, sorry."

Star looked past the guards at the control panels behind them. There was no way for her to run behind one guard, hit whatever button it was to remove the forcefield, and then get through. The button had to be pushed at each panel at the same time, by each guard.

"I insist you let me through. If not, perhaps your jobs will be more at stake than you realize."

She felt her nerves gather up like a cat on the hunt, all pretense towards acting pitiful dropped, as she debated such dodgy actions. She realized it would be foolhardy to try, but was prepared for a last ditch effort. She took a few bold steps towards the aether-field.

"Hold on, there." The first guard stepped away from the panel.

Her eyes took note of the gap, the opportunity she could capitalize on.

Slowly, the guard reached out towards her. Her first reaction was to shy away, but she didn't, still putting on the front that she was supposed to be there and not illicitly trying to get into lower Mewni.

His crusted, fingernailed hand brushed the hair aside from her white neck, meaty fingers tracing along the collar.

"Who sent you down here?"

"My caretakers; who else?" she replied, matter-of-factly, gauging the distance between the guard and the panel, and the secondary guard and his panel across the way. Her stance widened ever so slightly.

"And who might they be, miss?"

The first guard's eyelids rose, his hand stopping in a shocked fashion as his eyes saw the engraved seal on the fine collar which belonged to Aage and Aagil. He quickly stepped back towards the panel.

Star's heart sank as she saw the window of escape closing, but the guard hit three buttons on his control panel, giving a hand signal to the other who, after a hesitant pause, did the same.

All at once the glowing barrier sucked back into itself on both sides, leaving the way open to her.

"Sorry about that, miss, but I have orders. You understand."

Star blinked, uncertain what had just occurred, while her feet carried her numbly forward. It took her a moment but she said, "Thank you," as if the exchange she'd just had never carried with it the least bit of concern to her.

The second guard walked over to the first to discuss what that all was about. There was a questioning look on his face as he immediately pulled a small monitor and keypad device from his pocket and finger-punched a bunch of buttons.

"Wait a second," he said.

But Star didn't wait, pretending not to have heard them. She scanned the area for where to go next, and quickly. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and the guards as possible before they realized anything was amiss. She took as many turns around bends she could, easily losing her own sense of direction as she sought mainly to get away.

The second guard had pulled up an image of Star. In moments, they sprang into action.

When Star thought it was safe to slow her pace and regain her breath, she heard the thunder of a pair of heavily boot-clad feet pounding towards her direction. The guards were yelling for her to stop.

She did the opposite, taking a deep breath and pushing her legs harder.

"We found her," one of the guards was yelling into a communication device on his wrist. "She's heading to the lower jurisdictions!"

The place she was in was hardly enough of a labyrinth, but finally she came across a single door without a handle, a grubby light fixture alighting it in a hazy glow as if it was a focal point of the area. There didn't appear to be any other place to go. Even the walls seemed to funnel her towards it.

The door automatically slid back into the wall to give her entrance, a ping sound buzzing dolefully in her ears. It was a type of elevator, she knew, but this one was walled in on all sides and only had one direction to choose from – down. There weren't even floors to select. The type she was used to would hover to their destinations, enclosed by sheer panes of glass you could see through on all sides, and were not limited directionally; and as she stepped into the belly of the box awaiting her, with no other choice, the claustrophobic atmosphere creeped over her shoulders like a cape of foreboding gloom.

She saw the two guards down the wide hall. They caught sight of her the same moment as she did them. They stormed forward, but couldn't cover the distance fast enough before the elevator door slid closed.

The interior was greasy, every surface covered in an unknown stain from an unknown source, each splotch competing against the other for maximum coverage as they crawled up the walls. The floor was metal and long since scraped to a perpetually dirty state, caked in sticky grime. The slight rank of ammonia also filled Star's nostrils while the single green light inside flickered like a dying lightning bug.

The box lurched her downward fast on creaking cords, her stomach keenly feeling the effects of the janky travel. Thankfully though, the ride wasn't long. She was grateful, for fear at any moment the box holding her would come to a screaming halt due to the guard above hitting any switches to trap her inside, but it never occured. It bounced a couple times, as if deciding whether to continue, or perhaps to return back upwards, and it made her stomach sea-sick.

Then the box hit the ground like a giant falling on its rear.

The doors opened after what felt like an eternity. Star practically jumped out of it and into the open.

Even the air was different in lower Mewni. It wasn't crisp and clean but almost had a taste to it Star couldn't quite identify. It was like oil mixed with dirt. She could practically feel it adding another layer onto her bare skin.

Unlike the last place she'd been, this was an area full of decrepit buildings and streets she could easily get lost in.

The few cars there were no longer hovered but drove on tires that touched the ground; and they didn't have steering wheels, two long stick-levers with handles replacing them. Smoke and steam billowed out from pipes as they drove by, making her cough when she accidentally inhaled it. She almost didn't recognize that they were cars at all, so different they were in appearance to the sleek, flawless elegance of the limousines she was used to. They were haggard, broken down sheet metal things held together with gears, rivets, and possibly even prayers to the Great Stump.

There were only a few people around, but they were enough to raise the hairs along the back of her neck whenever she met eyes with them. Their faces seemed always to have a smear of dust while their bodies were noticeably gaunt, so scrawny and thin they couldn't possibly be eating three meals a day.

And the way they dressed, if she even considered it 'dress,' was nothing like she had ever seen before. Men and women tended to wear fingerless, knitted gloves with loose threads poking out every which way, while their shirts and coats were so age-worn she wondered if they were the only coats they had ever owned in their lives. Shoes were not polished but were scuffed, dresses were ruffled but tattered and patched, no stocking had a lack of ladder-like runs, and their hair was unkempt as if a perpetual wind had blown them out of place, or perhaps they didn't even have combs.

Star had heard rumors that the poorer Mewmans didn't have aether-tech, but she never believed such wild stories. How anyone could live without it, her brain couldn't even fathom. Yet, she saw only gearworks and pipes, steam-powered locomotives and devices she couldn't put any sort of name on. Nothing at all glowed of magic.

"Not all technology has to be magic. I can do without… I think."

While she walked aimlessly, spinning around as if a visitor in a foreign land, or perhaps even another dimension, out from the alleyways crept a few gloomy figures. The evening had drawn on and even though Star wasn't immediately aware of it, the streets had emptied of the few citizens that had been milling around, leaving her quite unattended.

The shadows watched Star like a pack of wolves, sizing her up as they would their prey. The dress she wore caught their fancy first, its glistening sapphire drawing their eyes like hypnotized moths to flame. There were no bright colors in the lower part of Mewni, since it was covered in neutral, cheerless tones, typically spattered in soot. The flash of blue made her garment stand out as if she were the only color against a backdrop of blackened coal. From her glittery headband down to her shining shoes, she was untarnished even from walking along the dirty pavement. Her skin hadn't a stain, and the collar around her neck was a flawless red gem, making them lick their lips with greed.

Star didn't pick up on the fact that she was being followed right away. The sights distracted her, each glance this way or that bringing her even more insight into the abysmal, claustrophobic world that poorer Mewmans were forced to live in. It appalled her to the core with each passing second she took it all in, her nose wrinkling from the dust in the air. So much of the stories she had heard through haughty whispers had turned out to be true after all. Seeing it come to life, she wished it weren't so.

Along a row of tightly packed buildings, while she peeked into some windows so caked-up she couldn't even see through, she thought she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Something, or someone, had darted back around a corner. There wasn't enough light anywhere for her to see by, so she wasn't completely sure if she'd actually seen something or not. Too much of this Mewni was covered in darkness.

"It's all right, Star," she whispered to herself. "This is fine. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. Not used to all this dark is all."

Star had never known true nightfall. She only knew a Mewni bathed in so much light that night was relatively equal to the day. She hadn't known that darkness could have its own ominous feeling to it either, except maybe in bad dreams or somewhere in her distant memories. But where she tread now, even the darkness seemed to have a skittering life of its own, and she didn't enjoy feeling the crawling threat of it simply due to a phenomenal lack of lights.

She knew she needed to find some place to stay for the night. Some place safe.

Her shoes clicked against the cement as she carried on with a bit more speed in her step. They almost echoed against the squished-together buildings, the streets were so narrow and vacant; that, or another pair of footsteps mimicked her own, she couldn't tell.

"I can do this. No biggie, just dark, and I'm not afraid of the dark. I can do this, chin up…"

One building crushed right up against another, leaving very little space anywhere between. They all looked fairly the same, save one in particular that stood out from the rest, tucked in-between two ramshackle houses. She couldn't tell if it was a business or a house, since there didn't appear to be any district separations to keep the two zones apart, but it was larger than the others, and more well lit inside.

The structure had two stories of multiple windows along the sides, glowing a warm amber in the evening, full of fine reddish drapes with black fringe. It even had small white pillars out front and a modest matching staircase, leading up to wooden double doors more well kept than the rest of the building. It was the most welcoming thing Star had seen yet and she headed its way. If nothing else it was familiar, in a stylish kind of way.

"You look a might bit lost."

Star visibly jumped from the voice that sidled up suddenly behind her. She whirled around to see a woman of maybe twice her age, but whose face was as lean as all the rest, the wrinkles of stress and poor diet adding more years other than were true. Her dirty-blond hair was covered in a threadbare shawl, hooding over it to keep it in place.

"Uhm, well, I am a bit new around here," Star admitted.

"A bit new indeed," the woman replied between a few chipped teeth.

Star wasn't sure of the scrutinizing look on the woman's face, but the way in which she repeated her own words set her more on edge than before.

"Yeah, getting a little late so I'm just looking for a place to sleep for the night."

"Ahh, looking for a place…"

The woman squinted and looked her over as if studying a machine to find out what makes it tick, enjoying the exterior of it all the while. Her eyes seemed to flit between Star's dress and her collar, requiring a force of will to meet eyes with Star's own.

"You're not a girl from these parts."

It was a statement, and spoken with a gleeful jeer. Star wanted nothing more than to get to the building.

"Just visiting, yep. Taking in the sights, and it's getting late sooo..."

"You're from up there, aren't you," the woman continued to speak, not a hint of question in her voice. "You're a long way from home, lass. Someone surely is missing you… someone who would be willing to pay dearly to get you back."

Star didn't know where to turn. She took a few steps backward, excusing herself with a nervous chuckle. "I'm sorry, it was nice to meet you but I'm very tired and I really have to be going."

"And so nice to meet you too!" she whined menacingly as she kept pace with Star, edging forward. "Say, you said you wanted to find a place to stay for the night, yes? I can help with that bit. Why not come with me? I have a right nice place for you."

"Thanks, but actually I'm heading over to…"

"To where, my finely dressed lady? Wouldn't want anyone to hurt you out here. That trinket around your neck must be worth more than most people's homes out in these parts. Such a thing could feed a family for weeks! Shame to see it stolen… shame!"

Star's feet backed up more quickly, despite her trying to maintain her composure.

"Sorry, I have to go!"

"Oh lassie, there's really no hurry. Come with me, I insist!"

Star backed up to the end of the walkway curb. When she stepped into the street, a pair of feet thunked heavily out from the shadows to cut hers off. Her back slammed into the chest of a large someone that was twice her height and almost as hard as a wall. The burly gentleman shed backed into latched onto her shoulders with two huge weighty palms.

"What should I do with her?" he grumbled dumbly.

"You take her with us, obviously, you dolt!" Her voice became shrill and high-pitched. It was grating, and it stung the ears when she yelled. But in the same breath she dropped her tone in a sickening fashion, crooning towards Star.

"Oooh, this necklace of yours."

Her cold fingers began touching the collar, working to find a clasp to undo it. They curled uselessly around the exquisite silver edges, trying to yank it off.

"Stop!" Star resisted, feeling the nails scratching hard into her neck as they tried to loop around the band. "It-It doesn't come off! It belongs to me!"

"It belongs to us now, so let us have it! Now, lass!"

The woman didn't interpret the meaning of the collar 'belonging' to its owner, and there was no use trying to explain as the two hands gripped harder in Star's shoulders, broken fingernails digging into her dress to hold her still.

"Watch it! Don't damage the goods!" the woman yelled. "That dress'll fetch us a good price too!"

She snatched the small handbag attached to Star's wrist, opening it and creasing her brow at the emptiness found within.

"What's this, nothing here?"

"Give that back!" Star yelled, and loudly, the sensation of being captured by Aagil still a fresh memory in her mind. Again she felt a heat rising in her face; but she remembered her reflection in the mirror, didn't want to tap into the part of herself she had experienced before, but her limbs began to quake.

"Time for you upper class to give back a little I'd say, girl," she said without concern for Star's force of words.

"Let me go!"

She elbowed the overhanging gut of the man holding her and jammed her heel deep into one of his grubby boots.

The man roared, his palms releasing as he hopped off his injured foot. Star saw her opening, this time making a break for it without hesitation, though her graceful shoes were not made for running.

"After her! Don't let her get away!"

The woman was surprisingly spry for being such a scrawny figure. As she shouted, she bounded after Star, managing to grab a fast hold of her wrist before she could get even three yards away. Star tried to break her bony grasp, but her hulking sidekick recovered quickly, his leg lashing out to trip her from behind. She was sent hard into the concrete, allowing the woman to regain a hold on her.

"Nice try, little princess!"

The word 'princess' gave Star pause. It was another moment when something deeper within herself was triggered, only she had no idea why or for what purpose. Somehow, even though the witch-like face had spoken it with spitting malice, it sounded right to her ears, as if it was originally part of her name.

She was literally shaken from her thoughts, a set of fingers yanking her up by her hair until her shoes barely touched the ground. A cry of pain burst from her lips, having never felt something so harshly done to her before. She didn't know if sections of hair were being pulled from her skull, but it felt likely they were. And for the first time since she could remember, she was hurt, and in several places, the skin of her knees and elbows grazed and bleeding.

The female grabbed the sparkling headband as it slipped down her face.

"Pretty, so pretty," she murmured, transfixed by the beautiful thing in her hands.

"Let me go!"

The henchman held the squirming Star out far from his body as fright flooded her senses. She flailed uselessly around, grunting and trying to kick any part of anyone she could connect with, all the while trying to free her hair with her hands. The thick-chested thug was simply too strong a force, his fist like the jaws of a clamped crocodile. She wasn't used to feeling agonizing pain and she didn't know what else they would do to her. The glaring image of Ginger's lacerations flashed across her mind.

"URGHH! Release me!" Her voice gave way to desperation.

With the opportunity at hand, the woman snatched hold of her thrashing feet. She clenched them tightly under an arm and wrenched both shoes clear off their now-ripped stockings.

"You won't be runnin' away again, lass!"

"What're you going to do with me!? You dregs!"

The woman sneered, then back-handed Star across her mouth.

"You'll be our um, guest, until some of the uppers come looking for you. I'm sure their pocketbook will hold more than yours!"

She tucked the headband with the shoes covetously against her chest and barked at her cohort. "Now let's get out of here before someone hears her crying and tries to steal our prize!"

Two bright beams of light cut through the blackness around the group. With a grunt of sound, the man holding Star stiffened, his pupils becoming tiny pinpricks against it. The woman instinctually tried to hide the stolen goods behind her back. Star continued to dangle, partially dazed, unable to see past the light freezing them all to the street nor the dots of sparkles still littering her view from being struck.

A calm voice reverberated around them, sounding amplified somehow, and larger than life.

"Release the girl and put your hands in the air."

The next thing she knew, Star was dropped to the ground, the pavement coming up to meet her like a second filthy slap to the face. The man didn't need to be told twice.

The woman shouted, "Run, you nitwit!" already running away. "If the police catch you, I'm not coming back to save you!"

The man took off in the opposite direction as fast as his feet would carry him.

Star reached a hand up to shield her eyes from the floodlights. Suddenly a siren sounded. She saw colors of red and blue flashing all around. The twin beams grew larger as the growling sound of an engine increased with intensity and speed. Whatever vehicle it was accelerated towards her as if to mow her down.

She wouldn't have been able to roll out of the way fast enough if she tried, but the machine drifted sideways just as it reached her sprawled form, forcibly stopping. The lights no longer blinded her but the maneuver kicked up a cloud of street debris, and the exhaust fumes made her gag.

Her attackers had fled.

Mercifully, the driver shut down the blaring siren. She could only hear the softer rumble of the engine issuing out from the many pipes along the undercarriage. She knew it was some form of law enforcement car, but it wasn't anything she'd seen before. The front of it had only one large rubberized wheel while four smaller gear-like wheels in the rear were covered in thick metal treads, a pair on either side of a window-less carriage.

Her eyes adjusted slowly as the figure from the vehicle opened the squad car's door. Star saw his shoes first as they stepped out onto the ground. They weren't scraped-up like all the others in this downtrodden version of Mewni, but highly polished and looking new. He was tall and slender, but not from lack of eating, and his skin was a pale grey-green. Atop his head rested perfectly brushed, slick black hair that ran down to his shoulders.

His tail shut the door behind him.

Her eyes went immediately to his butter yellow spheres as the man knelt down beside her, extending a hand.

"My lady, are you all right?"

"I…"

It was her nature to take an outstretched hand, so she placed hers into his, allowing him to pull her up. At first she thought he had only three fingers but, when she did a double-take, saw that he had all four.

"I-I think so."

"I am officer Toffee," he said gently. "And you are? Hmm… not from around here, I see."

Star smoothed her dress with her hands and tried to straighten her abused hair. She still felt the pain of the pull throbbing against her scalp. She grabbed one of her sore elbows with a hand and embarrassingly looked down over her tousled clothes.

"I'm Star."

As she absently swept her long hair away from her neck, no longer having a headband to keep it held back in place, Toffee's eyebrows raised in surprise. The red heart gem of the collar reflected in his widening eyes like a mirror. He was momentarily held captive by it like so many before him. The finery that Star wore made him realize exactly where she had come from, and what she was.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Star," he said pleasantly. "This is no place for a lady such as yourself. Please, let me take you back to the station so we can write up a report."

"I don't really want to cause any trouble. I can just… uhm, be on my way."

"Nonsense. No trouble at all for you, my lady. Those derelicts accosted you, and did they likewise steal your things?" His eyes had already taken her all in, and she caught them glancing down at her feet. "I presume you didn't walk all the way from home without shoes?"

"Well I… no."

He cocked an eyebrow, a smile disarmingly gracing his long face as he guided her towards his vehicle.

"Come. You will be safe at the station. At least we can tend to your injuries. I'll get you something warm to drink, something for your feet, and after we file the report you can be on your way, if that is your wish."

Star had become confused with knowing what exactly her wish was, not having planned very much past getting away from the manor and every aspect of the Mewni she knew. She wasn't used to making her own decisions. But, Toffee's suave demeanor and soft spoken words soothed her like a warm blanket, easily sliding her worries away and leaving her feeling comfortably sheltered. His uniform was well tailored, and his badge glistened with authority.

She was still in shock from the mugging, not thinking her clearest, or even caring, past the desire to get safe. She found herself allowing the Officer to lead her into his car.

He opened the door for her and held her hand to assist her in, giving a gracious bow like a valet.

"My lady."

Star had to almost climb into the vehicle, so lifted off the ground it was by the treaded wheels of the rear. She sat in the passenger seat besides Toffee as if she were his partner, the back part of the squad separated by thick plexiglass and iron-barred windows. She noted there was room enough in the back to seat up to four people sitting across from each other. Shackle-like devices hung from the sidewalls at the ready, attached to the interior frame.

"Those are called handcuffs. I know you've probably never seen them where you're from, although they have something similar… stronger of course. Don't worry, you're up here with me, not back there with them."

She gave a small chuckle.

The corners of Toffee's lips turned upwards into a smile, murmuring a small laugh. His eyelids just partially lowered over his eyes, giving him a charming countenance.

He slid into the driver seat and closed the door, immediately pulling two of the many levers inside with his hands. The long metal bars went down into the floor and connected with the frame and engine out of sight. The vehicle spun as if in place, making a zero-turn in the street.

Star watched out her window as the one building she had been heading towards was quickly fading into the distant night and getting lost among all of the other ones crowding in around it.

For a while, the pair was quiet. Star began to feel her bruises pulse as she sat back against the seat. A light fog of steam from a pipe exiting the vehicle's hood started to puff against her windowpane, the droplets picking up the outer coating of grunge along the car's surface and running down like grey rivers against the glass. Star's mind drifted as she watched the beads.

When she looked over at Toffee she saw in him, and in his impeccably-kept outfit, someone she felt she knew.

"You have been to, uhm, where I'm from?" she asked, as shyly as a child asking a question she feared might cause unease.

Without turning his head, Toffee's eyes drifted to Star then back on the road.

"Yes, I used to serve as a… factory worker."

"Oh," she whispered. She knew none of the working class personally, and there was no way she'd have ever been in contact with them.

Again Toffee took a quick glance at her. He thought to keep the questions one-sided.

"Yes, I left, same as you I presume? If that is what you intended to ask next."

"No-no-nooo, I just thought maybe you were someone I ran in to at some point. I don't mean to be nosey."

"Someone as ravishing as you, my dear Star, I would have certainly remembered, and I would have made sure you'd remember me."

A rosy color filled her cheeks. The air was subdued between them, but not awkwardly so. He went on speaking, his words becoming lighter, more reassuring.

"Star, may I ask why you decided to leave?"

"I just…" she trailed off, looking down and seeing that her fingers had gathered the folds of her dress in involuntary fists. She opened her hands quickly, letting go of the fabric. "I just didn't like…"

"It's all right. If it troubles you, you need not say."

The desire to speak her mind to someone rose like a small fire within herself.

"No, it's ok. I just thought I could be… meant for better things?"

"You feel like you didn't matter there. The people you lived with saw you as nothing more than property."

She found that when he'd given her space, she couldn't stem the surge of words that wanted to stream from her mouth, and wasn't entirely sure of everything that came out once it started. His question-like statements fed the growing fire of emotion within her like tinder, and once started, the blaze had to burn.

"They loved me. They said they loved me. But they acted the complete opposite. I had a good life and I loved them, like if they were my parents, I mean. But… they only saw what they wanted to see in me. I was their doll to dress up, and I allowed it. They did things to me I didn't want, and I allowed that too. They kept wanting more and more until I felt like nothing at all but a thing. Don't I have a say? Am I wrong to want my own say? Can't I say 'no' to being just… just a…"

"Slave?"

"A plaything."

Toffee raised an eyebrow on the side not facing Star, noting her side-step of his bold word, and how she downgraded it into something she could more easily swallow. He listened, fascinated with the strange woman seated next to him that gave him an awkward vibe. Her pitch became louder and broken with tiny sequels at the peaks.

"They only saw what's on the outside. That's all that mattered; not how I felt inside, only what I offered and what I could give, or they could take! I ran away and don't even know if I did the right thing. I left everything I knew behind… my only family and my friends. I don't know where to go. I don't know what I even want because I've only ever given others what THEY wanted. I don't even know myself."

Her chin dropped as she turned back towards the window, shielding her face from his by the barrier of her golden hair, preventing him from seeing the tiny tear that escaped down her face.

"What if I was wrong?" she sniffed quietly, watching the steam drops dance against the window.

Toffee could sense the mild sobbing and sought to rebuild her prior confidence.

"I have only known you a few minutes and already can tell that you're remarkable. Your leaving was no mistake at all. They didn't appreciate you, Star, and that was their mistake." He handed her a handkerchief from one of his many vest pockets. It was embroidered with a lower Mewman symbol for the letter 'T'. He held it out for her and waited until she took it, to dab at her eyes before continuing.

"You know, it takes bravery to break away from everything and take control of your own life. So few have the strength to be anything but a follower. Oh they all say they want to be individuals and stand up for themselves, but in the end most of them just cower like sheep. You're not alone in wanting to find your own way outside the flock."

"There are others like me?"

He spoke more slowly, carefully choosing his words.

"Well, not quite of the same class as you, but a few, yes, that have escaped over the years and come to this place to start over in obscurity. Look at me. I am an officer now, not some worker in an aether-tech factory known only by a number, building the toys that only the wealthy can enjoy. I think you'll find this part of Mewni to be a good place to disappear."

"And remake myself, you're right! Like, a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly!"

"Yes well, one step at a time, Star."

The officer gave her a light smile and returned his focus to the road. Star was uplifted by the support of his words, and even though it was dark and bleak outside, the lights of the vehicle skimming over lower Mewni and making random alley rats scatter, she had a more positive feeling than before.

Star was staring out the window. While her eyes had been seeing the word going by, she only briefly took it in, her eyes staring blankly as the world went by. She allowed her thoughts to take precedence over her vision, wondering what the next day would bring and how she'd get started in this underworld of new experiences. Then, Officer Toffee shook her back into the moment.

"Would you care for a snack or drink?"

"Uhm… sure," she said.

He reached over to her side of the car and tapped the dash. He did it twice, as the dash didn't immediately respond, unlike the luxury vehicles with their holographic screens and buttons you'd tap in the air. He simply tapped the dash itself. With a slight grunt of annoyance, he nudged the part of the dash that opened but not all the way.

There was a compartment within the dash that held a few odds and ends of police business paperwork and set over them was some kind of wrapped candy bar and a very small bottle of water. It did not have an ice orb in it and didn't particularly look appetizing, and she wasn't really peckish, but she didn't want to seem ungrateful. She thanked the officer and took the candy, slowly unwrapping the shiny paper from the chocolaty insides.

"Mmm, thank you," she said while swallowing. "What is this?"

"That? That is a Snookers bar. It's the great equalizer… sold to all classes in Mewni."

"It's pretty good."

As she took small nibbles of the candy she realized how thirsty it was making her, and decided to go ahead and take the offered water as well. Officer Toffee nodded his approval while his hands turned the levers. Outside the window the world all looked the same despite being new to Star. It almost seemed as if they were driving in circles.

She had become dizzy. And tired. Her arms felt difficult to raise. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. It had come upon her so quickly it brought along with it a sense of dread. Something was wrong.

She looked over at Officer Toffee, who had a tiny smirk playing in the corners of his lips, looking at her from the sideways glance of his eyes. She thought she heard him chuckle, but maybe she imagined it, or saw something not there. Her eyes were blinking more than usual, her head lolling slightly when she turned away.

Her head and eyelids became heavy like her arms. The anxious fear that had taken hold was like a dull background pulse that wasn't fully connected to her body. It was there, crying out to her every sinew to make her move, but she couldn't muster the energy. Sleep felt inevitable, the fight too great.

Finally her resistance drained. It was impossible not to shut the lids that wanted to seal her eyes and the world around her away.

When Star's eyes fluttered open, as the sleepy haze wore off, the strong scent of something itched inside her nostrils. It had tickled her out of the blackness of false slumber.

A heavy blanket had been draped around her shoulders. She had been nestled into it, and was no longer in a moving vehicle but a wooden chair. The fabric was almost comforting, were it not for the fact that she immediately found her arms and wrists held down by thick leather straps.

She awoke relatively quickly, the dulled fear she recalled having only minutes prior surging back into her veins like a spirit retaking its body.

"Ah, wonderful to see you awake."

It didn't take her semi-glazed eyes long to find Toffee. He stood before her, a pleased expression painting his maw. In one hand he had been holding some kind of small stick that was broken in half. She could smell the intense spice of it until he clasped his hands behind his back along with it.

"Before you decide to panic, let me make you aware of a couple points, shall I?" he asked, but continued on without waiting for her answer. "You're safely tucked away beneath the police station. No, you're not in the jail, nor are you under arrest, but you're in my… custody. As long as you cooperate, perhaps we can come to certain agreements."

"I-I thought you wanted to take a report," she muttered, trying to maintain her composure.

"You're right, Star."

Toffee spun on a heel and walked to the desk directly across from her. He sat briskly and immediately began to prick at a strange keypad device before him while looking at a glowing screen. His eyes skipped from the computer monitor to her, then back again, as his reptilian fingers danced across the Low Mewman letters. He seemed to delight in Star's amicable reaction to her capture.

Star didn't pay as much attention to his glances, unaware that his eyes often fixated on the collar about her throat. Her own eyes kept staring at the only thing in the room besides the table: the strange computer gadget lying on top, box-like and full of gears and small mechanical lights. On its front was a flat console screen, and in front of that was a touchable keyboard. There were computers where she was from but they looked so drastically different that Star almost felt like she had entered another time. Mewnian computers didn't require screens, displaying the images within the air from a console. One would touch the airborne symbols rather than physical keys on a board, like the difference between the fancy limousines and Toffee's dashboard.

Toffee was apparently recounting the evening while Star sat watching the interlocking gears turn, hearing the very faint murmur of a motor buried somewhere within that kept the computer alive. Within herself, her adrenaline was choking her throat, but she decided not to try her bonds or appear too stricken by her situation, trying to play along.

"So, you do this for all of your rescuees?"

"I beg your pardon?" he said, still distracted with the paperwork.

"You bring them here and make them comfortable, tying them to a chair?"

"No, it's not standard procedure, and a bit regrettable. I'm pleased to see you're taking it well."

She tilted her head to the side and gave a snarky attitude.

"I try to go with the flow."

"A wise decision."

There was the clacking of more typing as Star stared down Toffee. Without turning her eyes away she casually glanced about the room to get a look at the place. It wasn't filled with many objects besides cabinets and tables, mostly sterile, and not just in scant furnishings. The room was immaculately clean from floor to ceiling and painted white. It seemed medical in nature, and gave her an all new rush of fear when her eyes saw a metal tray with several needle-like apparatuses and tubes placed on it.

She broke the silence as much to keep herself calm as to find out more about Toffee.

"Why did you rescue me?"

"I am an officer. It's my job to stop the criminal element. I only allowed those two to run because taking care of you was my first priority. They are petty, short-sighted criminals and won't be on the loose for long when I get on their case."

"Uhm… that's not quite what I meant."

"You are asking why I rescued you and then brought you here, only to tie you up, I know."

The computer was making an annoying whirring noise, filling the stagnant air as his statement lingered within it, unnecessarily long.

In truth, he would have preferred not to have begun with her being restrained, but he'd sensed in her something different. Whatever it was gave him an uneasiness he wasn't accustomed to. He was not a man to let precautions slide.

He cleared his throat, looking up from his work.

"I also know you're used to a life of extravagance. It's a sheltered and entitled life. Your handlers kept you naïve to many things. But it's no wonder. Only the most prized concubines are dressed as you are and wear such a fine 'feature' about their necks. It's hard for you to understand how the real world works because you've never known otherwise."

Her blue eyes went wide with shock.

"Y-you knew all along?"

"I used to serve the wealthy elite, after all."

"As just a factory worker, you said."

"Yes, well," he brushed it quickly aside, "Regardless, I am well aware of those collars and the station one such as yours represents."

She pictured the magically sealed, smooth surface of the crimson heart that she often blindly toyed with. She'd made a motion as if you reach up and touch it, forgetting that she was prevented from so doing. It was so much a part of her that his continual staring at it made her feel exposed. She re-adjusted her legs as one of her bound hands fingered the blanket draping down off her shoulders.

"You said we all can make a new life for ourselves. I don't have to be what this collar says I am, and I don't plan on it."

"You were a slave before. Now, you're free."

She stretched her neck in an overstated manner to look at her still leather-strapped arms. "As free as free can be."

"And," he snorted a mild laugh as he smoothed back his hair, "if you'd like to remain that way, I can be of great service to you. Conversely, if you decide on the wrong choice…"

He stood and, rather casually, walked to the front of the table just inches away from her. He leaned against it, looking down into her eyes as she sat with bated breath. She had pulled her feet up off the floor and was sitting with them tucked up beside herself, wrapped in the blanket. Without shoes, her stockings did little against the cold of the concrete.

Toffee raised an eyebrow as he gradually maneuvered his tail. It slithered up underneath the blanket and against Star's legs. He could feel them shiver at his scaly touch.

Star felt the tail creep along, the tip of it tracing along the crease of her pressed legs like a finger trying to make its way northward. She remembered Aagil leisurely trying to train her, as if the pace at which the unwanted touch came had anything to do with her acceptance of it.

The flexible green limb didn't stop until it slithered its way over her arms, teased at her throat, and the end of it caressed at her cheek.

Her body stiffened, revolted, drawing away from Toffee while clutching the blanket. She averted her eyes sharply; that's when she caught from the corner of her eye something sparkle off Toffee's belt. He had several keys.

She yelled, trying not to look at the keys, as if Toffee would follow her gaze. "If you think I'm going to become YOUR concubine, you're making a big mistake!"

His calm demeanor belied his hidden desires, having fun with her fears. He didn't even bother to hide the smirk that crossed his lips. Swathed in the blanket Star appeared so frail, and yet was more beautiful than any female he had laid eyes on in quite a long while.

"I left because I didn't want the same path I had before! If I have to fight you like I had my caretakers, I will! I'm not about to let you-"

"Yes, you certainly will," interrupted Toffee, using his tail like an extra hand, tilting her head to both sides before pulling it back. "I can almost see the fire in you! Your bloodline hasn't completely lost it. Excellent."

She squinted slightly, confusion stopping her tongue from flying out further defensive statements. "What?"

"I am sure once we get better acquainted, you'll change your mind, in time, and see that my plans can mutually benefit us both."

"I don't plan to be here long enough to get better acquainted, so you better be the one to change your mind. Let me go, before I'm forced to hurt you too."

He chuckled as he cocked his head, reclining against his hands gripping the table's edge behind him. He continued with a tender, yet patronizing, tone.

"Forced to? Oooh my, you are quite the catch. But, why don't we take a step back and have a realistic chat, hmm?"

"Maybe we could have… if you didn't drug me and tie me to a chair."

"Relax. You certainly are stunning, but If I'd wanted to have my way with you, I'd not have woken you up with the smelling salts."

He acted as if he hadn't heard her sarcasm, reaching over his desk and proceeding to hit a couple of keys on the keypad. Then, he turned the screen to face her. Over the flat surface she could see images of Aage and Aagil, information written in higher Mewman, and an image of herself, and the collar.

"They are offering an obscene reward for your return, Star. I don't need to tell you that the sum would be utterly life-changing for anyone this side of Mewni. But as an officer, I am even more so obligated to bring you in."

"But you won't… right?" She tried to appeal to his sense of camaraderie. "I mean, you and I share escaping lives we didn't want. We wanted the same thing."

Toffee took a very deep breath. "I was free to leave any time. I wasn't anyone's property. A worker goes missing, there are plenty more to fill the gap. You, however, can't just disappear. That collar can't be removed except by your keepers, and so you'll forever stand out down here. You need my level of protection. I brought you here to protect you."

Star hovered between fear and hope, her eyes quivering from not blinking as she watched Toffee's expressionless face, unable to read it.

"But… you won't take me back?"

"I could be persuaded to break the rules on your behalf…"

"…If?"

"You disappoint me," he grinned with a sardonic smile. "You should know I'm not exactly a fan of the upper crust, having left there myself. Of course I sympathize with your plight."

"Then, if you don't want a concubine, why are you keeping me here?"

"You are from the uppermost city. You're one of the few Mewmans that's permitted to see the sky."

The sound of Toffee's thinly disguised resentment began to soak through his words, feeling like an obvious warning to her ears.

"As such, that makes you of particular interest to me. You see, my dear, the most privileged Mewmans have a particular lineage. They have done their best to keep the classes apart for many reasons, not all of which is political. Those criminals that mugged you saw value in keeping you alive not out of kindness, but because a kidnapping meant the potential for more money. Others might have killed you on the spot and just stolen your things, or tried to sell you."

"And you're different because…?"

Toffee's voice was low, almost barely audible, his eyes squarely resting on Star. "We all have our hungers, but my eyes are not so short-sighted. You are more precious to me alive than dead."

Toffee pulled away from the desk, instantly making her flinch. But rather than putting his hands on her, he instead turned and went back behind the computer.

"You need me to survive down here, and I need you for some… tests."

Star looked at the metallic tray cradling the implements she assumed were for what Toffee was implying.

"No."

"Just a small request, really. I would like to take a sample of your blood. Let me run it through my computer. If my theories are correct, your higher Mewman blood will-"

"Why would I allow you to do that?"

"Simply put, because I am asking… not ordering. I could have already taken your blood, just as I could have taken you, remember? You're merely tied as a safety measure while we can sort out a deal."

"I don't want a deal. I want you to let me go!"

Toffee's lips shrank into a small slit, his eyelids half closing with irritation.

"Think this through. You're a smart girl. The only way I'd let you go is to send you home and gain that reward. And as I've said, that's a pittance compared to what we can gain together using science and a little bit of your DNA."

"No, I'm not going back home."

"Ah, I knew you'd see things my way and come arou-"

"No!" her voice rose, feet stamping to the floor for emphasis, though they only made mild slaps from her stocking feet. Her loudness echoed through the nearly empty space around them. It turned her bold once again, as she had been when facing Ginger. "I'm not becoming some kind of lab experiment for you! Not to you or anyone else!"

Toffee narrowed his eyes. "You sound like you've made your choice."

Her chin lifted defiantly. "I have."

"Well then…"

Toffee rose and clasped his hands behind his back. He strode around Star, saying nothing, until she diverted her eyes from his pacing lanky form for just a moment.

CLICK!

It was a pitiless sound that slapped the memory of receiving her collar back to the forefront of her mind. She felt hard metal against her arm and jumped, looking down to see the handcuff-like brace that Toffee had locked near to her elbow. It snapped onto the armrest of her chair.

She flashed her eyes upwards, directly meeting his just inches away.

"Why're you-"

"I'm too tired to argue. Now, I'm not asking."

There was no time for a whimper. He pinned her wrist firmly against the chair and grasped one of the needles from the tray. Even though she struggled, he seemed not to need to apply any kind of force to fight against her resistance.

Toffee merely waited while he held her down, allowing her to expend her efforts futilely. She thrashed and kicked around for a good minute, her blond hair whipping teasingly around his long, amused face. What kicks connected he simply took.

She arched her back to break free, and even tried to lean over and bite him, but it was useless. She was reduced to a breathless, drained mess, her muscles trembling with both fear and exertion.

The blanket had completely fallen to the floor. Her kicking and jerking at his body had left her limbs spent. She tried to catch her breath.

"Finished?" he asked, with an utterly sweet ring to his voice. "I commend you for trying. It was a valiant effort. I especially enjoyed it."

He seized his opportunity and plunged the needle into her arm before she could muster any rebound strength.

Star cringed back a painful gasp, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes to the point she could see sparks behind her eyelids. She felt the violent rush she had had with Aagil in the bedroom, sizzling her nerves, making her cheeks hot. She didn't want to break the needle in her arm. It was painfully tearing her skin with each fruitless attempt to pull away.

The tongue in Toffee's mouth slid over his teeth as his lips parted, allowing himself a heavier breath as he got a strong scent of her. His tail wrapped itself, snake-like, constricting around her legs to hold them back against the chair, like a free hand without fingers, enjoying his complete control.

"Nnurgh! Toffee stop!"

"Just relax, my gorgeous princess. I will be gentle." He was steadily drawing back on the plunger, pulling her blood along with it. He stopped once enough of the crimson fluid had reached one of the scratched markings along the side of the syringe body.

Again, the word 'princess' sounded so familiar, yet she hadn't a second to dwell on it. She yelped a groan as she felt him lean forward into her. There wasn't a moment where the tension on her wrists relaxed enough to let her slip free.

He removed the metallic clamp that clenched her arm, then withdrew back to the computer with the vial. The small hole he'd left in her flesh beaded with a growing red droplet.

"Now, for the real test," Toffee mumbled, inserting the end of the vial into a hub at the back of the computer's box-like body. A bulb of light flashed from orange to green, and even more, smaller gears within the contraption started to spin.

With all the eagerness of a child opening a surprise gift, Toffee scrambled into his chair, leaning forward to study the screen as rows and columns of symbols appeared, trailing down it like raining blue text. Star was used to seeing the reptile predominantly without much expression, but now his eyes widened, pupils shrinking. The light and letters of the monitor reflected off the wet surface of them; he gobbled them up as soon as they hit the screen, his snout beginning to bare a wicked smile of teeth.

"I knew I was right about your bloodline, Star," he said happily, but then his brows pinched together, his lips puckering as whatever was being revealed to him changed from something amazing to something perplexing. "Hmm, interesting… rather interesting."

"What is?" Star growled, wanting to know, but at the same time snapping vengefully as if she didn't care. "Something the matter with your little machine?!"

"That would not be the case. My machines are highly calibrated. I leave no margins for error. No, this is something… within you, my lady, that is completely different than anything I've come across before."

"Do you plan to fill me in or just keep going on with your delusional rantings?"

He quirked a smarmy brow her way, smoothing back his oiled hair.

"Hardly delusional, but I suppose since you'll be here a while it's worth having a companion to talk to, or argue with – as the case may be – whether you understand these things or not. They do somewhat concern you."

She gave an over the top, overly cynical smile as she tilted her head like a cherub.

"I need to perform a second test. Don't worry, I can see on your face already you're itching for another fight, but I can still use the same vial."

Mere moments later the light on the gearbox computer went back to orange, then to green, making a steady, tripping sound like a ticking clock. Toffee's attention was so enthralled in his work that Star was completely safe in her ambitions to map out the room, focusing on the only door. As she did so, she squirmed her left arm. A thin sheen of sweat was all that was needed to help her squeeze her hand out from under the leather bindings. Using the part of the blanket that remained closest, she hid what she had done and began to work on her other wrist.

Toffee narrowed his eyes as the screen blipped. The results had proven Star's blood to be pure, which was very rare and yet a result of which he guessed, but pure to the extent it was surprised him. Not only was it without non-Mewman contaminants generationally, but it had another material intertwined with the DNA. Not a contaminant, but an RNA trace element of radiation, to a small but potent degree.

He whispered beneath his breath, "Amazing…" He questioned if it could possibly be a magic residue, trying to contain his quickening pulse. Certainly, now he would need to keep the girl as his secret prisoner, for the untapped potential alone and not just her pure blood. Not even he could determine how much power could be eked out of her veins. If she had any magic at all, it was a find beyond his imagination.

"You see, Star," he managed to tear his eyes away from the screen and stand up once more, hands a bit jittery, behind his back to keep them stable.

Star quickly hid the fact that she was half-way through breaking loose of the second leather strap, seeing his belt keys on his hip as she tossed her hair, feigning disinterest.

"…nobody is happy here in Lower Mewni. Forced to never smell the clean air or have sunlight on your skin will do that to you over time. I decided to correct this, which is why I was planning to enlist your help."

"I already said I-"

Toffee's chin went to his chest, his hand stretching out and ordering her silence. "I will have your assistance, willing or not. Using the purest Mewman blood I can find – yours – I can synthesize a drug that will temporarily relieve them of their dour moods, of all of their unhappiness, and all at a reasonable enough price point. I've experimented with other synthesized compounds and the effects were not as addictive or dynamic as I'd like. But with yours, the purity on your blood will drive these poor Mewmans out of their minds. Something that will make them forget their own miseries entirely. It will be society-changing. Imagine! Every Mewman wanting, no – needing – a taste!"

"So you're not just a kidnapper, but crooked officer dealing drugs as well?"

"I am no petty drug dealer, Star," he rumbled dangerously. "This would be well beyond the type of measly drugs on the market, in a class all its own. It's not so much a drug as a revolutionary medical treatment… a part of daily life like eating or drinking. The reason it's crafted from DNA is so that it bonds to the DNA of the users, at least in part. Once they use it once it will become a part of them, something they won't just crave, but need to survive off of, at the cellular level. It's genius!"

"I-it's mad!"

"Mad like the rulers in Mewni? Or Queen Omnia? The wealthy own the world, Star. You'd be wise to side with me. I may seek a little personal gain, but I'm a scientific philanthropist! Every Mewman will be happy again in this world, because of me. It will change all of Mewni, the poor and even the wealthy."

"You-you'd use fellow Mewmans like that? For your own sick profit? For power? By turning them all into genetically addicted slaves? That makes you no better than those who keep other Mewmans as concubines or erase the people down here from their sight! Maybe you shouldn't have left after all. You belong up there!"

The fire in her cheeks returned, becoming an even hotter sting as she tried to turn her head to break from his burning gaze. His sharp teeth threatened her as, instead of anger, he met her rage with a grin, taking a couple stalking paces forward.

"You have no idea how much I'd love to see their faces again when I rise back to the top! And all I need is you to elevate me there!"

At that moment a large sound erupted from an area above and the entire building shook. Dust and grains of cement crumbled down from the ceiling like powder. Toffee stopped, looking up at the grit which landed over them.

While Toffee's eyes were towards the ceiling, Star lunged, getting her second wrist free and reaching for the belt of keys.

She was hit by something hard; a slash of green whipped across her face. His tail sent her reeling as she slammed into the desk.

A fraction of a second after, another blast rocked the building, sending both Toffee and Star into different directions.

A sharp, high-pitched noise rang in Star's ears. She opened her eyes to find herself on the ground with a cloud of cement dust all around her. The desk had overturned and the computer, with all of its gears and lights, lay exposed and scattered in several parts about the floor. The vial was shattered. She had only blacked out for a moment, having mercifully landed on the blanket.

Slowly, the whine in her ears subsided and instead let in the muffled sounds of chaotic panic from dozens of shouting voices above.

"It's the resistance!"

"They broke through to the prison cells!"

"Are they in the basement?!"

"Get the steamhounds! Don't let them escape!"

Star coughed and looked around, seeing Toffee's body just a few feet away, sprawled next to the broken chair she had formerly been strapped to. A chunk of ceiling had come down over it leaving a gaping hole above, along with tearing down cabinets from off the walls. The tray and syringes were missing, replaced by plaster rock and broken glass.

Cautiously, she dragged away the chair as she reached Toffee's body. When she got closer she could see that he'd been badly injured. A large piece of wood had splintered off from the chairback and was sent deeply into his side. Ironically, he had probably protected her from it, having just bashed her aside when the explosion occurred. The wood was lodged just under his arm and through his ribs, blood pooling on the floor from the ugly wound.

Toffee appeared to be unconscious, but alive.

Star looked to the single door. The panel next to it was still intact.

Around Toffee's waist was her means of escape. Star grabbed for the keys, quickly figuring out how to undo the belt clasp. From there it was easy to pull them from the loose leather. She jumped to the door and got to work using the multiple smaller keys, trying to work them into the hole she figured was meant for one of them. Keys were more of an antique decoration she was used to seeing but not using, and her shaky hands hampered her efforts.

After what felt like minutes trying not to cough from her scratchy throat, and selecting key after key to pry into the slot, one of them made a satisfying click. A blue bulb illuminated through the dusty air over the panel. The door slid into itself, but when she stepped into the elevator, which was far more narrow than any she'd been in before, it didn't close behind her. It didn't move at all.

She looked for a listing of buttons or anything that would give it a command, but found none. Instead, against one wall was a large gear inset into the wall, with two thick ropes on either side.

"What the?"

She grabbed one of the ropes and pulled, the elevator slightly lifting. It was a dumb waiter style, requiring physical effort, the mechanics relying on a hidden system of pulleys within the wall. She learned fast. The elevator bucked into life with her ardent tugs.

She heaved until the box hit a stop. A black and blue bruise had started to throb on her forehead but the adrenaline prevented her from feeling it in full. The door creaked and slid once again into itself and opened to the turbulent ground floor of the police station.

A blackened fog billowed in over her along with the incoherent yells of people filling the air.

While stepping over and around chunks of wall debris, spilled office equipment and stacks of paper strewn all around, she dodged the other officers that were trying to get their bearings. They were tremendously focused on whatever rooms were nearby, so she kept afar back, hiding behind whatever she could find as she sidestepped around. She strove not to make a single sound of her own, even when her stocking feet stepped on hard concrete bits jetting into her soles.

Nobody so much as paid her attention, and she easily snuck out from the heavily damaged, smoke-filled building, camouflaged by the powder and soot covering her. When she was a good distance away she could see the extent of the damage. A large portion of the outside brick looked like it had been blasted away.

As she disappeared into the last remaining pieces of the night, Toffee was roused in the basement by a smaller officer shaking him.

"Toffee?! Toffee! You alright?" He called upwards into the air, "It's Toffee! I found him! He's down here!"

With a wince of pain, Toffee blinked and sat up. Noticing his wound, he tore the wood from the gash in his side, panting as it immediately began to enclose and heal. It left his uniform annoyingly torn, and worse - stained. He stood somewhat shakily and looked down at Laar.

"What happened, Toffee? What were you doing down here!? Toffee, the rebels - they were trying to break in, and you were in here doing… what!?"

Toffee growled as he buckled the leather, then brushed down his pants calmly, hiding any semblance of concern for being somewhat caught in his secret basement lab. There wasn't much anyone could make of it being such, however, a point he immediately noted with repressed ire.

"Go after her."

"What!? Who her? Toffee, didn't you hear what I just said!? The rebels-"

"I will handle the others. Go after the woman wearing the collar and blue dress that was just here."

"One of the rebels? You found one in the basement? In a dress?!"

"Do as I say and stop asking questions!"

"But Toffee!"

He shot the gnome-ishly short man a thunderous glare. "Need I remind you of rank?"

"N-no, but…"

"Then go! And do not disappoint me!"

The agitated and confused officer took off through the debris field.

It wasn't long until the new morning began, but the first beams of dawn that would've started to filter down over Mewni's wealthy metropolis did not so much as touch the dilapidated sector of Mewni. Star had been awake and on the move for longer than she'd known before, in a place that seemed forever too dark. So much of her was sore, tired, and completely spent from all she'd been through just fleeing from one bad situation to the next.

As the people began to wake up and go about their business, Star realized it must have turned morning. There was very little other way to tell that morning had indeed come, all of the lights being cheaply-made forgeries of those from Upper Mewni, and nowhere near enough to compensate for true daylight. Everything looked pretty much the same as it did during the nighttime hours. Lit only enough to dimly see by.

The streets were beginning to fill. She knew she needed a safe place to hide as far away from the police station as possible. She had to quickly duck around corners whenever she saw or heard a squad car motor past.

"At least they're all distracted," she muttered to herself. For the moment she was thankful that she looked as grubby and filthy as all the rest. Nobody turned their head to give her a second glance, keeping their own heads down as they went on with their own daily drudgeries.

She had wandered in many circles, easily getting lost multiple times. She felt trapped in a concrete maze. There were few, if any, street signs and the landmark buildings all looked as equally squalid as the next, without any truly distinguishing features. Finally though, she found the one building she sought. It was the same building she had laid eyes on when she had been mugged.

She headed for it as if it was an oasis in the center of a vast desert.

Star nervously approached the somewhat gaudy house. The stairs led up to a covered porch with small pillars on either side. It reminded her of a miniaturized but antique version of a mansion from her district of Mewni. At least it was somewhat familiar-feeling.

"I guess I have to at least try."

She reached forward, then tentatively knocked on the door.

The voice that answered from within belonged to a female, and it was deep and gravely, yet also sweet-sounding.

"We are closed until the evening hour, dear, but please come again later!"

"I'm not here for business, uhm, I'm," she wasn't sure what to say, because she didn't know exactly what kind of business the double-leveled house could have. She could only assume it was a hotel of some sort. "I-I'm just looking for a room. I'm sorry, I don't really have money to pay but I can trade, maybe?"

There was silence. Star struggled to find more to say.

"I'm so sorry. I'm very tired… and hungry. I wouldn't want to be any trouble and I wouldn't stay long. Please? I just need… some help."

Several locks were undone on the other side of the double doors. She could hear metal siding through latches, nothing at all electronic or magical sealing the door shut. And when the last bolt was slid one of the heavy mahogany doors creaked open. An older woman stood on the inside, her hair done up in a bun beneath a short-brimmed, feathered hat. She wore a deeply red, floor-length gown that was rather form-fitting, and looked to be around fifty years old.

"I am Madam Lovelace. Come in out of the streets, child."

She took Star's hands and pulled her in.

The place had a large living room lounge with couches and gaudy lamps all about, and a bar full of bottles of various liquors. She was welcomed by the warmth of it, and the perfumed scent that found her nostrils was so inviting compared to the outside that smelled of steam and wet aged grime. It was like lilacs in the summer. All of the windows were draped in red silky fabrics trimmed in black fringe. A staircase spiraled up on the left-hand side, leading to an upstairs portion with multiple hallways and rooms.

"Is this a hotel?" Star inquired.

The older woman beamed, perhaps finding her innocence amusing.

"Oh child, this is a place of temporary stays, yes, but not quite of the hotel sort."

She didn't know exactly what that meant, but just dropped her shoulders and gave up. "I just need a place to sleep a few hours. But I can only really offer you this dress as payment."

The Madam eyeballed her from head to toe, even walking all around her.

"Well, the dress seems mostly intact and not worse for wear, other than needing a cleaning. Can probably fix a few of those cuts, though those stockings have certainly exceeded their lifespan. And where are your shoes, child?"

When the woman spoke to her it wasn't at all in a demeaning way. It made her feel relaxed, even safe somehow. Maybe she was simply too exhausted to make up a story but she felt the last ounces of her guard slip away, and decided just to be straightforward.

"They got stolen."

"I see. That would happen when you wear such fine things out here." Her eyes seemed to linger on the collar. "You're not from this part of Mewni, are you?"

"No, ma'am."

"I know quality craftsmanship when I see it, despite it being covered in soot. You're a runaway concubine from one of the higher levels?"

Star looked up in surprise, then nodded sadly, grabbing an elbow with one hand and looking away again, ashamedly. "…Yes. Please don't try to take me back. I'm not going back."

The woman smiled in a genuinely heartfelt way as she took Star's hands into her own lacey, red-gloved ones. She led her to one of the couches.

"I wouldn't dream of it. I believe in doing what you can to survive, but that also means finding your own happiness."

She sat Star down and rang a small bell that sat atop a table next to a statue of a naked woman riding astride an overly-muscled warnicorn. A woman with wildly purple hair came down from the upper floor in response.

"Yes, Madam?"

"Beatrix, might you be able to scrounge up some of the dinner leftovers from last night?"

"Of course, mum, right away."

The woman was about the same age as Willow, Star thought, but more thin. She wore what might be considered an elegant styled dress for Lower Mewni, but it was very revealing of her figure, especially around her breasts, the dress sitting off the shoulders. The woman also had a very simple black lace collar with a large silver ring on it around her neck.

Star's face fell immediately into a pout. It hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Don't worry, child." The Madam gracefully set the small bell back down on the end table, facing Star. "I will not pretend anything with you. You'll find I am very direct. This is a pleasure house, much like the palaces they have in Upper Mewni. But all of my girls are not my slaves. They work for me, at their own will, and they get paid for their work. They can spend it however they wish and can leave whenever they want. Their collars are mere costume-ware to make the patrons feel a bit more… empowered compared to their lot in life. They remove them at the end of their shift."

"Really?" Star was confused. She couldn't immediately believe that anyone would choose to work in such a way when they were free to go, and to do anything else they wanted, not having masters that bought and paid for them.

"Yes, of course. All of my girls get room and board as well as a wage. I treat them fair, and you are welcome to speak with any of them. I could even take you on as a hire. That is, if you should change your mind."

Star's eyes widened with a note of apprehension.

"In time, I mean, child. You are quite young and beautiful, and would do well for yourself with me. It looks like you've been treated a bit roughly so far, judging by that bruise on your head and those knees. But know there is no pressure here. You are free to choose."

The older woman stood and went to the bar to jot some notes into a log book by hand. She used a feathered black quill, and Star's eyes were hypnotized by it as she saw it flutter over the page. She was dizzy, famished, and sleep was starting to make her limbs heavy.

"In the meantime," continued Madam Lovelace, "I shall have Beatrix prepare a room for you. I accept your trade offer and will take your gown as payment for say, two week's stay with full kitchen privileges. You can eat and drink however much you want, come and go as you like, have access to the bathing rooms, and have clean linens daily. I am sorry I cannot possibly offer you a truly fair trade for the dress. Even with those minor tears it's above my paygrade. This is the best I can offer you."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me."

"And who is 'me' child?" she smiled, stopping the feathered pen from its writing.

"Sorry, I didn't say earlier. My name's Star."

"Star, how lovely. Well Star, I am happy to have you with us for however long you wish to stay. And, if you decide to continue on here, we can come to another arrangement of course. Ah, Bee-Bee, please show Star to our dining room."

Beatrix had appeared from a side room carrying a plate of food, something looking like mashed potatoes with maybe a couple strips of meat laid over them, smothered in gravy. The scent of it immediately made Star's stomach grumble, waking her up just enough to stand and follow.

After she had scarfed the meal down, hardly allowing the food enough time to settle on her tongue for taste, Beatrix showed her to a room. It was a quarter of the size of her former bedroom at the manor, with a smaller wardrobe, smaller dresser for clothes, and a bed only large enough for one comfortably. The curtains had already been drawn for the night but it was already a darkened room. Nothing at all was white and bright like within the manor; the walls and flooring were composed of dark woods, covered with red and black matching rugs, wall-hangings, and bed furnishings, making it so much darker inside. There was one light with a lantern-like glass shade over it, its small flickering flame dancing from the tip of a fabric wick within. Due to the number of mirrors placed all around the room, the single light was surprisingly effective at keeping the interior aglow with a warm, cozy feeling.

"Beatrix?" Star looked to the girl that had shown her the room, and who was quickly making an exit.

She stopped in the doorway. "Yes? Anything else I can do for you?"

Star had questions in her head, and her tongue so wanted to ask them, but seeing Beatrix's soft green eyes, her mouth seemingly unable to frown, her attitude so upbeat, she decided to hold back. Rather than the heavier things she'd intended to ask, instead trickled out idle pleasantry.

"Thanks for showing me this great room."

"Ah, no bother! Mum decorates all the rooms but if you decide to stay you can change it however you like."

"You call her mum, is she… your mother?"

Beatrix chuckled a little. "No, no, that's just what all us girls call her. Most of us are from orphanages. Mum finds us in all places and offered us a chance at a new life. We all look up to her as a mother… of sorts."

Star held her tongue again, choosing not to inquire about the concubindome of Lower Mewni. Her body ached for sleep. The bed looked lumpy and misshapen, yet totally inviting.

"I'll bring up your clothing. When you're ready, just leave your dress and things beside the door and I'll fetch them later. You look pretty beat, best you get some sleep before tonight."

"W-why? What happens tonight?"

"Ahh, you know… the gentleman callers. It can get loud sometimes and lot of people coming and going."

"...Oh."

"Ahh," Beatrix shrugged and snickered again, "It's not as bad as it sounds! Don't worry. Most of us sleep during the day anyway."

Star crawled atop the bed. It sank in under her weight, a bit too much so, causing her to literally fall into it.

"You get some sleep, ok?" Beatrix smiled. "You can leave your dress near the door and I will fetch it later, and will leave you the new dress mum is going to get for you."

Star awkwardly rose back up from the bed which almost devoured her whole, breaking into a giggle herself. She was too used to her former bed, which was rigid and hard by comparison.

"Thanks again," she said. And when Beatrix closed the door she slid in under the sheets. The long broken-in bed springs hardly bothered to support her weight. She removed her dress and stockings, tossing them flippantly to the floor, and accepted the bed that acted more like a pillow. It was admittedly the most comfortable bed she'd slept in.

Later that afternoon Beatrix burst into her room. Star was still fast asleep, oblivious to the commotion as Beatrix snatched her dress and stockings, until the girl jumped into the bed with her, stuffing the dress down at their feet beneath the blankets.

"What's going-!?"

"Shhhhh! Police! Just play along!"

Her eyes went wide, her adrenaline instantly prompting her heart to beat into her throat. The sudden invasive awakening kicked Star's adrenaline into overdrive. Beatrix was on top of her underneath the covers, and embracing her tightly.

Star opened her mouth to speak again but the bedroom door flung open with a rough bang, and Beatrix planted her mouth onto hers, stifling her to muffled noise while adding in her own. The sound of crunching mechanical parts like footsteps, and sniffing hisses like steam vents, came into the room, as well as two other voices.

"Police! Just running a missing persons search, people, you can… ugh, continue," Laar grunted, seeing the struggling forms beneath the bed blankets and snorting, quickly averting his eyes with disgust. "Why can't Toffee do his own dirty work… he's the one that enjoys places like this."

Star was paralyzed in fear. Whatever was sniffing was taking long echoey breaths, edging closer.

"I thought Lovelace's didn't open until six of the clock?" the other officer grumbled, stepping ignorantly past Laar with a push into the room.

The sounds of the ratcheting metal was directly next to the bed, seeming to tower over it.

Star couldn't see through Beatrix's lavender locks draping over her entire head. It seemed that the concubine did so on purpose. When the officer spoke, Beatrix simply grunted harder, almost angrily. Star didn't so much play along as she remained stunned to the bed, wearing nothing but a bra and panties with the other woman groping her hands all around her in no particular fashion, being loud and obnoxious with her lips pressed against her.

The metal clanked like steel against steel, like teeth sharpening themselves. Star's body flooded with a rush of unknown heat, beginning at her cheeks.

The officer barked again, "I said, Lovelace's doesn't open until-"

"Until six, you're right, officer."

The voice came from the Madam herself. It was deep and without a hint of worry.

"Please, if you don't mind," she directed Laar and his partner away from the doorway, "I do allow for VIP clients to arrive two hours beforehand for special attention." She called out to Beatrix and Star, "My apologies for the intrusion, please feel free to help yourself to a sauna later, courtesy of the house."

Laar narrowed his eyes and took one last glance over at the bed, then sharply whistled. Whatever had made the mechanical noises bounded away, moving on multiple legs. The Madam closed the door and Star could hear the voices of the trio as they walked down the hall, followed more slowly by the grinding of gears.

"You certainly can check all of our rooms here but I assure you, no new girl has shown up in recent days, as a new hire or a client."

Laar persisted. "We just need to conduct the search room by room, regardless of what you say."

"I understand, but do so without barging into the rooms and questioning my clients. Do not disrupt my business whilst you conduct yours."

The voices faded away as they entered other rooms down the hall.

Beatrix finally unlocked her mouth from Star, sweeping her long hair away and leaning back, still straddling her.

"Whew, close one."

Star's eyes darted around Beatrix. "Whaaaaat just happened?" She wasn't yet ready to allow her muscles to relax. She stayed pinned beneath her, questioning what was about to happen next.

"That was the police looking for you. They asked about a girl wearing a beautiful gown and an irresistible heart collar, with long, flowing, amazing looking blond hair. Ring any bells?" she laughed lightly, a rosey blush flooding her cheeks hard.

"Did… did they use those exact words?" Star stammered, trying to break the tension with a sarcastic, yet nervous smile.

Beatrix could only laugh.

Awkwardly, Star looked up at Beatrix while she looked down at her. The moment seemed to last far longer than natural.

"Are you going to let me get up?" Star asked slowly.

"Oh! Ahh yes, sorry!" Beatrix hopped off of Star. "Stay here until they leave, all right? They still have the steamhound."

"Steamhound?"

"Yeah. That's why I couldn't hide you. I had to… ahh, improvise." Her cheeks flushed red as ever. "If I hid you anywhere else in here it would have seen you. Easier to turn you into a client since they'd expect two people in a bed, heh. It can see in the dark and where people are hiding. And when it finds what it's looking for it snaps its jaws down and you can't break that clamp. You'd never get away."

"Oh!"

"That's right, you're from Upper Mewni. Don't need no steamhounds there. Well, they're like a walking computer that looks like a huge dog, sort of. They're brutal machines. Fast, and unstoppable. You must be very important to someone because they don't send the dogs out except for like, the resistance members."

"Resistance members?" Star swung her legs over the side of the bed, covering herself with the blanket.

The motion of Star shielding herself made Beatrix suddenly realize Star's modesty. "By the way, I have the dress mum wanted to give you."

Beatrix walked over to the small dresser and pulled out what might have been considered a very nice dress for Low Mewni standards, but it wasn't quite what Star was used to. It was short, to the knees at most, and only had two spaghetti straps to hold it up once on the shoulders. There weren't any ruffles or lace except for the lacework along the spine, to keep the bodice attached. But, it was blue, a pleasant fading shade of dark indigo, and came with clean white stockings.

"It's lovely, thank you," Star grinned. She was sad to see the beauty and elegance of her old dress go, but happy she would be able to fit in.

"Mum figured you'd enjoy the blue, your other dress being blue and all."

"She's very thoughtful."

"Yes, you will love her, you'll see. You won't wanna leave."

"Uhm… well, I-"

Before Star could complete her sentence, they heard footsteps coming towards them in the hall. Beatrix immediately sprang to cover Star.

The door of the bedroom opened. It was Madam Lovelace, alone.

"It's all right girls, it's just me."

"Oh madam, so glad it's you!" Beatrix removed herself from her hug of Star and set the clothing on her lap for her to get dressed.

Star was left wondering just a little bit more about Beatrix, but she shook her head to clear the thought from her mind, beginning to slip on the dress so that she could express her thanks once again to Madam Lovelace directly, while being clothed. The fabric felt a little more course than silky but she was impressed how well it did fit her slender curves. Beatrix quickly moved to lace up the corset in the back without her needing to ask, while the older women walked up to them both.

"I keep having to thank you, madam." Star said with a slight bow. "The dress fits me perfect and it's so colorful."

The madam smiled gently. "Star, we both know it doesn't compare to what you had before, but I thank you for your desire to thank me just the same. Just don't pander to me, child, I can only tolerate so much flattery."

Were anyone else to speak such things, Star might find them to be too boldly assuming, but the way the older woman sweetly confided, with so soft yet authoritative of inflection, made her feel more like a sympathetic equal.

As Star grinned sheepishly, she continued. "It appears that you had a run in with the police."

"Yeeeeah, about that…"

"You needn't explain, child. You're a runaway from Upper Mewni. No doubt your former owners are seeking to get you back."

"Er, yeah, something like that. Listen, I gotta thank you for standing up for me, and… and not giving me away. You didn't have to do that and it means a lot-"

"Stop thanking me already, Star. Treat my place as your refuge. We all have to stick together sometimes against such… oppressions."

"Than-I mean, uhm, I will."

"Good girl," she said, seeing Star's quick compliance and brushing the back of he gloved hand along her cheek. "You're stronger than you know, Star."

She was unsure why the madam has said that. "What?"

"I thought I saw something on your cheek there."

"Yeah, me too, under the blankets," Beatrix admitted. "Thought I saw something."

"Wha-huh, what something?" She rose a hand to her cheek but didn't feel anything but a slight tingle.

Madam Lovelace took her hand away and stopped examining her skin. "Nothing, child, I don't see anything there but a pretty young face. Must have been just my eyes as I'm getting older. The light hits your skin and really brings out your glow."

"Yeah," Beatrix breathily sighed.

"Bee-Bee?"

"Yes, mum?"

"Go help the others prepare for tonight."

The girl gave a mock pout and rolled her eyes. "Yeeees, madam."

"And Star? We all like to have a large meal right before we open, so you may join us in the dining hall. I can introduce you to the other girls."

*****

Almost the full two weeks had gone by, feeling like a fast-forwarding through time for Star. She came to know all of the working girls in the brothel, even helping out Madam Lovelace around the house as a courtesy. If any of the girls needed new linens she would quickly be there to get them washed, and even washed dishes after meals. She kept the place as tidy as she had for Aage and Aagil's manor. It was what she knew, and she felt good being able to fall back into a role she was used to and assist those that had helped to keep her safe and hidden.

Although it initially went against her better judgment, pricking her own sense of moral right to help out a place that she basically had just run away from, in speaking to the women she found none of them to be at all unhappy with their positions. On the contrary, they usually did far better in making a living for themselves than others in Lower Mewni, though Star didn't particularly think that was a good or noble thing. She thought that the amount of money somehow made it right in all of their minds - the self-employment, and the empowerment that came with it - but she figured it wasn't her place to complain when they were happy and clearly not slaves.

She had made good friends with Beatrix, though at times she felt that the concubine wanted to get closer than just friends. Beatrix was definitely more free in her sexuality, as many of the other women were, but Star found herself awkward in such situations. Her reservations against exploring some of the things Beatrix seemed to want to with her presented a challenge that only made Beatrix want to pressure her slightly more into what she termed as 'self-discovery.'

Nevertheless, they were close, as close or perhaps closer than she had been with Willow. She was starting to feel like she had found a new home, and was debating requesting a maidservant position with Madam Lovelace to work for her keep.

But as her two weeks were coming to a close, trouble was not too far behind chasing at her ankles, stomping her back under the bootheel of reality.

Lovelace's place served a great many customers from all corners of the bedraggled belly of Mewni. Some had positions of relative power like police or politicians, while others were their polar opposite: the seedy folk the police were tasked to chase down, or the well organized criminals. One of Madam Lovelace's more prominent attendees was a known mob boss, whose influence often swayed judges to rule in his favor, or simply paid off the police. Many were in his pocket. It was unwise not to give him his way.

He was the largest man Star had seen in Lower Mewni, where most of the citizens were getting by on scraps. Most ate too little to gain any fat, so his size was a definite mark of his status below. She'd seen far larger though, in Upper Mewni, even Mewmans that couldn't walk under their own power anymore due to their scale. They got around instead on wide hoverchairs.

She was busy tidying up the lobby before the evening began in earnest, when he walked in without so much as a knock. Two bodyguard-like henchman came along with him at either side, and his arm was wrapped around the shoulder of a red-haired teenage boy Star's own age.

Lovelace was always the portrait of calm even under pressure, and the rude entry did little to change it. She simply directed herself towards the pudgy-faced man with her usual flourish and good-natured hospitality, ignoring the ignorant intrusion.

"My, it's been a time since I've seen you and your boys. All work and no play, so they say," she smiled, "will get you into too much mischief!"

The boss was a great smile from ear to ear, the flab of his cheeks rippling to the sides. He wobbled a bit on his feet, with words somewhat slurred.

"We're here to create some mischief, not take a break from it!"

He was dressed as if he was about to fine dine, with a very clean-cut black suit. His thick hands were adorned with equally large rings that looked impossible to remove, like sausages overly wrapped too tight. His shoes weren't polished like Toffee's had been. They were scuffed and scrapped. A hefty gold chain was draped around his neck that ended in a small glowing white stone shaped like a demon horn. It could only have come from Upper Mewni. Such a thing reeked of expense.

"Lets not break any of the lamps or beds this time, alright?"

Madam Lovelace could get away with painting a criticism in with a compliment. Star enjoyed hearing her as she managed her affairs with total confidence.

"Do take into consideration you don't need to hustle my girls the same as you do your clientele. They will readily give you whatever your desires. So, how may we serve you this evening? The usual?"

The boss shook his head, then looked at the youth he was holding tightly against his side, shaking him a little until he likewise smiled, albeit sheepishly.

"This is my son, Maximus. It's his birthday today. The big eighteen."

"Ahh, well congratulations, Maximus. Finally come of age to enjoy all of the sundry adult entertainments."

His father spoke on his behalf. "Yes! Got him a bit loosened up and ready to go for ya girls."

The boy gave a gentle laugh, and when Star briefly met his eyes she saw his locked onto her. She didn't know how long he'd been watching her, but the sensation of his eyes immediately pricked her nerves. She decided to clean elsewhere, heading upstairs.

The boy's eyes followed her every step of the way.

The Madam rang the bell from the end table a certain way and called up to the working girls. Those that were not already with clients quickly came bouncing down the stairs and lined up beside her, holding their skirts with coy little smiles and winks at the men in the main lobby. They had done this lineup routine before.

Beatrix and the others bowed and did some twirls while the mob boss pointed and elbowed his son, distracting his eyes away from where Star had gone off to. His father made him look at the bawdy delights set before him.

"Now, which one do ya like best? Personally, I like this one here with the purple hair… she knows some special tricks with her tongue!" he laughed. "Oh but this one is also amazing! How she bends her body in all the right ways! If ya want more than one, that's OK too, but not too many. Ya'll get too worn out and we have more bars to hit up tonight after ya become a real man!"

Maximus observed the girls with a half-hearted air. He touched the hair of Beatrix between his fingers, then moved on to another, feeling along her breast, finally spanking a third just to hear her squeak.

"They aren't like limos, boy. Ya can test drive as many as ya want and not have to keep them, or make payments!"

The Madam's lips pursed into a purposefully drawn smile, her eyes twinkling, but hiding disdain.

"Take your time choosing. They are all highly gifted and each have their own flavor, but are all here for your tasting."

The birthday boy analyzed each in turn, then spoke with a lofty, arrogant tone.

"What about the one with the heart collar? Why isn't she here?"

Lovelace was taken slightly aback, but she didn't miss a beat.

"That is the help staff. She is not one of my service providers."

"Well that's the one I want," he said matter-of-factly. "Bring her to me."

"I'm sorry, but she is not for hire. Please, choose any of the others."

The girls standing there continued to suggest themselves, batting eyes and touching their bodies as if allergic to their clothes, and they needed to soon come off. Beatrix in particular tried to put on a more fierce presentation, turning around and bending as she adjusting one of her long to-the-hip stockings.

"That's the one I want."

His father stepped in, at first taking Lovelace's side, only to falter mid-way through. "Max, ya want a trained girl that knows her way around charming ya snake. Ya sure that's the one?"

"I'm sure."

Madam Lovelace began to protest, but the boss interrupted.

"If she's the one he wants, then that's his choice. Can't talk no sense into young kids these days," he chuckled. "So go fetch her."

"She is not hired for that."

"She's got a collar and a gash between her legs. What more does she need? My son's no fool. He can figure it out."

"I must disagree. She's-"

The bodyguards took a few steps closer to the Madam at the flex of the boss's shoulders, his arm dropping off his son's back at long last. His face went from wrinkles of good humor to a scowl of intimidation.

"She's the one my son wants, and the one he'll have tonight."

The girls in the line became more jittery, having trouble sustaining their sexy poses. Their eyes frequently went to Lovelace's face to read her. She remained firm.

"Choose another, and I can make it complimentary for you and your men for the entire night, open bar and sauna."

The angry father predatorily approached Lovelace, continuing to draw closer and speak softer until he was right up in her face, their noses almost squarely touching. But she didn't even tilt her head an inch back.

"I believe my son made it clear, but I can make it more so. You wouldn't want me to break anything."

"If your son has a bad time with an inexperienced girl, you're liable to do that anyway."

"Why test me on that? I could have your building burned to the ground. Where would ya girls go then, hmm? Do ya have enough saved up to build another place? I think not, especially since the prices of permits will go up if I speak to the Building Rep."

"You have the power to buy the clout to do that, but you won't put me out of business, even if you did torch the place."

"I'd not like it if I had to do that, mess up this nice place… or ya girls. Black eyes and missing teeth don't make for pretty faces for the customers, now, do they?"

The older woman lowered her head for the first time, the threat of violence to her girls a step too far. She was silent for agonizingly long seconds while he breathed his boozed-up breath in her face, until she looked up once again.

"Come with me, Maximus. I can't promise you she'll be willing."

The son stuck out his chin and gave a sly grin. "Who's asking? I get what I want, just lock the door behind me."

Lovelace and Beatrix exchanged nervous glances as she led the teen past the other girls and headed for the upstairs bedrooms. She knew Star was likely in her own room.

The pair began to mount the stairs, each step a slog through shame. Lovelace looked over the railing, seeing the bodyguards start to unwind at the bar with the ladies distracting them. She shook her head when Beatrix attempted to follow her up, leading the boy towards Star's room.

Her eyes begged a 'don't do this' stare, but Madam Lovelace's were ashamedly settled on their course.

Star was inside, sitting on the bed and stitching together a couple pieces of fabric where a hole had torn in one of the girls' hand gloves. Lovelace stopped just before her door, turning away so as not to look at her as Maximus quickly went forward. He entered the room like his father had the brothel, as if it and everything within was his own.

Once he slammed the door, the Madam regretfully pulled out her master keys. Her eyes didn't want to see what her hands had to do. She felt the key snap the lock into place.

The walls were crafted of thick wood, but it didn't keep down much noise, and hearing the goings-on in the quarters was an unsettling yet altogether familiar experience for everyone inside; but this time the sounds were rougher that the usual; combative; not the typical outbursts of excitement. The teenager that barged into the room immediately demanded for its occupant to undress.

"Uh, maybe you have the wrong room?" Star questioned.

"I don't. I've chosen you as my girl tonight."

"I don't work here. I mean, uh, I do… but not like that. You've made a mistake."

"That's funny. I don't make mistakes," he said as he rushed over to her and forced his mouth against hers.

She fought to pull herself away while his hands groped around her, grabbing a hold of the fabric and trying to tear off whatever pieces he could. She could taste the alcoholic burn in his mouth and tried to smack him away.

Madam Lovelace could hear the situation quickly escalating. She couldn't bare a moment of it, heading back down the stairs at the same time Star had broken free, running to the door. It was locked. No amount of jiggling the handle wretched it open. Everyone could hear the resultant bangs as fists hit against the door.

"Hey! Let me out!"

Maximus wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her waist away. "Get back here!"

Star found her fists balling up. Her anxiety began as a cold shiver that turned into sweat. Her chest tightened and her face flushed.

Her voice screamed out. "Someone open the door!"

"Not until we're done!"

Star's hand had reached out, and without even feeling her knuckles make contact to his jaw, the man toppled slightly, colliding with a mirror and shattering it. She repeated herself more vehemently, with gravel in her slowly deepening voice, as if a darker force was speaking for her and she didn't want to stop it.

"Let… me… go."

"Bitch, stop fighting me!"

He slapped a hand across her face and she fell backwards into the bed. He removed his belt.

As her blood raced, Star could hear it thudding in her ears, along with the voice she had heard whispering once before. It was faint, calling to her like her heart's pulse, insistent and undaunted, stinging her cheeks.

After the telltale clank of the belt, she heard the frightful sound of a zipper.

The unexplained fire that she'd felt before seemed to burn hotter in her veins. Without knowing fully what had possessed her, she gripped the tie of the boy as he hunched over her and tried to hold her down, one hand holding her arm back and the other pressing down her collar.

He laughed when her hand pulled the tie, bringing him closer. His scrappy pants fell to his ankles. The sound of his belt clicking in her ears was like the last ticks of an explosive grenade.

"I like this foreplay!" he grunted animalistically as his shoulder muscles trembled to keep her pinned.

But when he finally fastened his eyes to hers, what he saw therein made the blood flee from his face, his anticipation turning to terror.

She blinked hard as the inferno deep inside intoxicated her. The sapphire pigment of her eyes shifted to pure luminous white, so bright not even the blackness of her pupils could be seen. They were so full of light that they brightened the space around them both, the tie scorching in her fist and strangling him with a noose of fire. As he gargled out a scream, his hand that was placed upon her neck likewise burned.

"I SAID-"

But the young man didn't get to hear her finish.

She felt the anger surge into her every sinew. From the tips of her fingers and toes to every place in-between, it scorched within like the blistering of lava pushing up inside a pressurized volcano, climbing higher and higher still, into her fiery cheeks. Heart-shaped marks appeared on her face, searing with white-hot light.

She could see the snarl over the bridge of the gentleman's nose twist and contort, his eyebrows turning from hard downward angles to upturned distraught arches of pain. He had moved both hands to grip her by the throat in a vain effort to make her stop; connected to the collar, he found that he couldn't remove them. The power from Star's own body had conducted into it and his hands were completing a circuit between them, bubbling his flesh from the scorching heat.

Grinning from euphoria, Star's energy erupted. The man began to spasm wildly like an electrocuted puppet, his voice becoming shrill and piercing. The collar was melting the flesh from his fingers, the gemstone heart a blazing crimson as the man's fingers became bone.

A small white slash fractured across the gemstone heart's surface like the reaching arms of a snowflake. In a moment fermented in the man's final screams, everything around her exploded with shining pure light. The man shredded apart as if ripped by a spiraling internal tornado; the collar severed free from her neck; the exterior walls of the room opened to the outside.

Star had levitated, then collapsed to the floor, the exertion having pulled almost every bit of strength from her body. How long she had been unconscious, she didn't know, but it couldn't have been long. Madam Lovelace was the first face she saw when she was lifted up by her hands.

She was greeted with multiple pairs of eyes that looked on her not as much with worry as that of dread. Even Star herself, recalling the memory of what had just happened, wasn't sure how she had done it, or why she'd allowed it. She had murdered the mob boss's son in a moment of vengeance, utterly reveling with the power.

The voices of the brothel women came in at all angles, jumbled up in her head like the incoherent voices of hysteric starlings fighting to be heard, one over the other as they filed into the room. Then men's shouting, brutish and large, yelled over them somewhere behind.

They were charging up the stairs.

"Bee?" Star asked as she came out of her stupor, looking for her purple hair. "W-what happened?"

"I'm right here," a small voice said. Beatrix was not one of the women who had helped her to sit up, instead choosing to hang back behind the others, only darting glances towards her. She continually averted her eyes, looking from the broken wall, to Star, then at the burn marks all over the floor.

All at once the mob boss barged in, then halted, his inhaled breath hanging in his throat. His eyes searched the room, seeing the women piled together on the floor, the burn marks on the carpet, the drapes. The mirrors were shattered, and it was hard to miss the exploded out wall. But his son he didn't see.

His bodyguards burst in and were likewise aghast, looking to their stupefied boss for direction.

Star whimpered, the spent energy leaving her emotionally compromised. Seeing Beatrix, of all the brothel girls, afraid to touch her or even to go near her, was more than she was ready to handle.

"What happened Star?!" one of the other girls asked in a flurry. "How did your cheeks… glow?"

"Where is his son? He isn't here?" asked another.

"There was light, and an explosion. What did you do?"

One of the goons stomped forward. "The little tart killed him!" He pulled something that looked like a polished wooden stick wrapped in coiled wire from his belt holster. The second followed suit. They both pointed the weapons towards the women and they all squeaked with fear.

The boss began to heave his breaths, growling as his fists balled at his sides. Sweat on his brow ran down the sagging fat of his face.

"One of ya had to have seen something. Tell me! Now!"

Madam Lovelace protectively wrapped her arm around Star. "He must have ran. You saw as much as we did, and he's not here."

The father was on the verge of monstrous rage. The willpower it took to restrain himself left him visibly shaking. The veins of his neck raised out, skin thinning around tightening knuckles.

"If none of ya tells me what happened here, I'll make sure to find out, one finger at a time, one wrist at a time, one eye at a time!"

He grabbed Beatrix, who was the farthest from the pack, yanking her back by the hair and forcing her down at his knees. The guards stood by, ready in case she tried to resist.

"So help me, I will snap her neck right now!"

"Beatrix!" Star shouted. "Stop! Let her go!"

But it was Beatrix that spoke, in a coughed, tearful whisper.

"The man melted. I saw it. I saw it all myself. He's dead."

Star's head throbbed and her heart went through a myriad of emotions. The conflicted feelings besieged her while she looked down at her shivering hands, staring at them like illegal, deadly weapons that might activate and kill them all, being unable to stop it, or even worse - to enjoy it.

She saw the glint of the collar lying between her knees on the floor. She slowly touched the heart lock of it, which was cracked and broken, split down the middle; then, she pulled back her hand to feel at the skin left bare on her neck. She barely noticed the Madam's hands wiping the tears off her face with a handkerchief.

The words faltered from her mouth, but her body stood up on shaking though adamant legs.

"I didn't mean, I mean… it was an accident."

"Accident!?" the boss roared, several of the girls jumping back from the outburst. "Ya killed my boy! My boy!"

Anguished, Star could only repeat herself as she bent to pick up the collar. The brothel girls stood quickly, instinctively backing against the side wall away from the men and her. No one tried to reach out and grab back Star's arm, like she almost hoped they would. Not even Beatrix.

"I didn't mean to kill him."

The mob boss watched her with eyes glazed over, nearing the point of frenzy, ears no longer hearing any of her sniveled-out words. Then he gave the order.

"Tie them all up!"

The women began to scatter around the ruptured room screaming as the two henchman corraled them with their weapons. Only Madam Lovelace refused to resist. The boss himself grabbed her harshly by the elbow elbow and pulled a lose cord from a back pocket, lashing her wrists behind her back.

"I'll start with you."

"As well you should." She was proud even though defeat was closing in.

Star was frozen in what felt to her like a time bubble. The women were shrieking around her, being beaten and tied up by the men. Their motions swam around her in a horrific blur.

They were placed on their knees and lined up next to each other, weeping and pleading, until only Star herself remained, the broken-out wall at her back and everyone else before her.

She caught eyes with Lovelace, uttering an "I'm sorry" under her garbled breath.

"I am the one who needs apologize to you. He got what was coming to him. You did nothing wrong, child."

At those words the Madam shut her eyes, knowing that as she finished it would be the last thing she'd say. The boss drew his own firearm, pressed it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. A steel bolt inside the chamber of the barrel imbedded into her skull before instantly withdrawing, painted in her blood.

"Burn the place… burn it all!" he commanded over the women's terrified screams. "And take this one!" He side-swiped his gun against Star's forehead, causing her to reel almost out of the gaping hole in the wall. "I want to kill her slowly!"

Star was the last one not bound, and both of the goons focused their attention on her. But they hesitated awkwardly, as if waiting for the other to move first.

"What are ya waiting for!" the boss yelled, leveling his gun into the back of Beatrix's orchid locks.

Neither of his men wanted to touch Star, unsure of her power, or how she'd killed Maximus. While they mustered up the courage, Star could see the boss's finger pull the trigger.

The sound of wet bone tore Star back into the reality of the moment; seeing Beatrix's body slump to the floor triggered her reflexes to flee, like a racehorse that heard it's bell, the release gates opening to allow it to run.

She turned around and dashed for the crumbled brick hole. She leapt out of it, almost without seeing, grabbing hold of a fire escape ladder barely clinging to the side of the building on rusted hinges.

Ths boss barked for one of his men to exit through the front of the building and beat her to the street, ordering the other to light the place up. As Star's eyes filled with warped vision from overflowing tears she could hear the sound of glass bottles breaking, the whoosh of flames and crackling tinders. She heard the bolt-gun fire again and again as the ladder creaked beneath her weight.

The ladder allowed her to finish descending into the alley before it unhinged, bringing another slab of wall down with it. More debris crumbled off the building, the plaster and lathe giving way like a loose scab of skin over the bricks.

She heard the goons shouting whoops and hollers as the flames reached higher and engulfed the beautifully sad building. They knew her only route was towards the main street. She'd have to face them eventually and they knew it, waiting her out as if smoking out a hare from its rabbit hole.

But something was still calling to her.

As she kicked along the broken ground, she listened harder to the tugging in her mind and heart, holding the last trinket she had from her former life in her palm. The beautiful slave collar reflected her face a dozen different ways in the surrounding firelight, due to the cracks running across its surface. She would miss her friends: the childishness of Willow and free-spirited nature of Beatrix, even the callous sarcasm of Ginger. She'd have to leave it all behind.

"I have to."

She found a gaping sewer drain with edges heaped over with trash, snot-colored sludge dripping down into an unknown abyss. It was there she let the collar slip free from her fingers, allowing it to fall into the depths, forgotten.

She prepared to head into the main street, her heartbeats pulsing in her throat as she faltered in the alley. The thing that was drawing her stole her attention, as if her awaiting assailants were mere annoyances by comparison to it's pull. That thing began to call harder.

She was distraught, but followed the feeling until she staggered back a step in surprise. She suddenly saw a large man, not one of the well-dressed goons, covered in a thick blanket of rubble on the ground. And several feet in front of him there was a satchel, purse-like and splayed open, ripped along a seam. Out from the bag and laying on the ground, like a brand new sparkling toy, was a wand.

She bent down, the voice in her mind hypnotizing her to reach for it, screaming into her heart as if she was meant to –

She couldn't resist the voices anymore and so she proceeded to pick the wand. At that instant her fingers locked around the handle of the wand.

#star vs the forces of evil #stvfoe #pillars of magic #star butterfly #toffee #fanfic

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