#and in one of them it froze me FOUR TIMES IN A ROW

[theyuseifan]

mewtwo is a freeze spamming little BITCH

[imaginealpha]

Tech product guides trying to troubleshoot your issues: lol have you tried turning it off and turning it on again 🧐 I'm not going to read any of the things you said you did, if it doesn't work then get fucked. Go to settings and click this option that you said isn't even there anymore

Reddit: here's some actual helpful suggestions on where to find settings that can fix your problem. We're more reliable than google search. Except for when we just tell you to buy new hardware instead of trying to fix your problem

Some obscure tech blog article from 7 years ago: i *google ad* gotchu *google ad* *google ad* *troubleshooter you never knew existed* *google ad* *solution to your problem*

[heirofnight]

meddling, pt. 3

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.9k - i will never not be a yapper

summary: ah, my favorite little adorable pair. part three of the meddling series. reader wants to thank azriel for being so kind to her since her arrival at the house of wind several months ago. she gifts him with a silver chain. azriel loses his mind. fluff, so much fluff.

warnings: none, except for potential cavities from the sweetness.

a/n: this was the brain child of a post that i made thirsting over azriel wearing a chain & rings. someone commented on that post and suggested i incorporate that into this series. and here we are. probably my favorite piece of writing that i've done so far, ok. i'm simple. pining azriel makes me weak. enjoy! <3

read part one & two

you clutched the tiny, wrapped gift box in your hands, your fingers moving to glide along the cobalt blue silk bow adorning the lid.

you felt jittery, nervous. butterflies had taken flight throughout your chest and belly, relentless wings swirling.

you supposed this gesture wouldn't strike azriel as odd, or out of left field. after all, the male had been going out of his way for you for months.

his warm, kind gestures toward you as he sat next to you during your first dinner at the house of wind - you'd been so petrified, but he took you under his wing (literally). the kind, soft eyes he'd given you. he'd served your plate, giving you hushed anecdotes about each dish so you could choose what you'd wanted to indulge in. you hadn't admitted it, but you only chose to try azriel's favorite foods.

then, the sweater. he'd given you one of his oversized sweaters to snuggle into. you'd mentioned to him one time that you often froze, no matter the weather conditions, and he'd somehow remembered that detail - presenting you with the best solution he could muster. now that you knew him a bit better, you weren't sure if he'd actually remembered you admitting how cold you always were, or if that fact was just something he was able to observe himself. he was the spymaster, after all. maybe you were just easy to read.

if you were to actually ask azriel, he'd say that he remembered every word you'd ever spoken. every detail, every slight reaction. and it wasn't because it was his job to do so - wasn't because rhys had ordered him to watch over you seven months ago upon your arrival to the house of wind. no, you no longer needed his watchful eye. you were settled in, comfortable, part of the family.

he remembered the words you spoke because he hung onto every word that left your lips.

today, you sat in that favorite armchair of yours in the private library on the third floor - as always. you glanced over to the large shelf closest to you, a smile slowly spreading across your lips as you took in the romance books neatly lined before you. the romance books that azriel had removed from an obscenely tall shelf that was completely unreachable. to you, at least - unless you felt like scaling the entire thing.

he was so observant. he'd noted your favorite genre, remembered that you struggled to reach that row of books. took time out of his day to rearrange the entire left side of the library in favor of making you more comfortable. and now, here you sat. your favorite novels within arm's reach at any given moment, all because of this achingly kind male.

yes, he deserved this gift. he'd done so much, you wished you were able to bestow him with more. you were wearing his sweater again today, but this one was different. he's since presented you with four more sweaters from his closet, although he hadn't grown less bashful about offering them over to you - even though your reaction is always the same. blushing, bright eyes staring up at him in wonder as you grip the fabric and hold it to your melting heart.

and azriel, he revels in those moments. he can't help the sense of pure pride that warms his entire body from the inside out. he couldn't stop doing things for you if he tried, your smile and twinkling eyes circulating throughout his bloodstream like the first hit of a drug so strong, it threatened to bring him to his knees.

you took a deep breath, eyes flitting towards the elegant grandfather clock to your left. he'd normally stroll into the library around this time each day, joining you to read in silent, comfortable companionship.

and, like clockwork, that feisty, stray tendril of shadow that you'd come to love twirled through the crack in the wooden double doors with a flourish. it darted straight towards you, as it always did - worrying over you for a moment each time it found you. you'd imagined it was giving you a general once-over to make sure you were safe and content. it was much like its master in that regard.

the shadow looped through your fingers and hands, taking notice of the gift box that was sitting on your lap. it focused its attention there momentarily, swirling through the silky bow that matched the color of azriel's siphons - a detail you'd hoped he didn't find weird.

azriel made his appearance a second later, pushing through the doors with a book held under his arm. he moved with so much grace, despite his tall, muscular frame. he was astonishing to watch, even if the action was something completely mundane. tearing your eyes from him sometimes felt impossible, the allure he possessed was almost suffocating - but in the sweetest way.

he didn't even try to hide the fact that his sights were set on you immediately. he used to give a sweeping glance of the entire space before he allowed himself to find you, but now, he looked for you first - and you were always there. he felt any lingering tension within his body melt into the floor beneath him.

"hey, you," you spoke tenderly towards him, and the smile that he gave you made your chest warm.

he approached you, as he always did, unable to stay too far away. his eyes raked down your torso, never tiring of the feeling of seeing you in his clothing.

"i think this one is my favorite on you," he noted, eyes turning to molten honey as he took you in.

you preened at this, making a mental note to don this particular sweater a little more than the others.

"i, uh, i have something for you," you started, extending the small gift box towards him. now you knew how he felt, waiting to see if you'd accept the items of his clothing each time he presented you with them. you held your arm out without wavering, even though you felt a bit silly now.

his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink, and he studied the box in your hand for a moment. it wasn't lost on him that you'd chosen a bow that was the exact color of his blazing siphons. he felt his heart lurch against his ribcage at the realization.

"it's just a little something," you started again, voice woven with a nervous undertone at his continued silence. "i wanted to thank you for being so kind to me since i've arrived," you cleared your throat. "you've really made this place feel like ... like a home," you finished, giving him a shy, tentative smile. he could tell by the look in your eyes that you were pleading with him to accept it. you didn't have to beg him - well. maybe he'd like that, in other circumstances. however, not now, not for this.

a small smile spread across his lips at your last words. a home. he'd made someone feel like they were home, and that was enough of a gift for azriel. several times since meeting you, he'd felt as though his heart was swelling uncontrollably, growing beyond the confines of his chest. like you were somehow nurturing and tending to it. this was one of those times.

he reached a scarred hand towards the box, taking it from you gently. "y/n," he traced the bow with his fingers, slowly tugging the ribbon apart. "you really, really didn't have to do this. i just wanted you to be comfortable here, with us," he flicked his soft eyes towards yours, and you were doing that thing you did when you were nervous - fiddling with your fingers. he wanted to grab your hands then, run his lips along your knuckles, kiss each fingertip slowly. i will love it no matter what it is, he thought to himself, please don't be so nervous.

you dipped your chin at his words, huffing a small, breathy little laugh. "well, i am, az. comfortable here. with you," you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and azriel trembled with the urge to gently place the delicate gift box aside in favor of gently tugging your delicate body towards his instead.

he took a deep breath then, composing himself, as he lifted the lid from the box. inside was a custom-made, silver curb link chain. one that was long enough to rest right in the middle of his clavicle. small, glimmering cobalt blue stones were hand-set throughout - only able to be seen when the light hit them a certain way. but when the light did hit them, they were stunning. the surface of the gems danced with the fragments of light as though they were on fire, alive.

this made him think of you: the light that found his shadows, setting him aflame.

his breath caught in his throat, and he lifted the chain from the silk pillow that it rested on. he loved it. absolutely, wholeheartedly, loved it. it was powerful-looking, strong. the best gift he ever remembered receiving.

now, you'd be lying if you said this present wasn't also - maybe, sorta kinda - for your benefit. his strong, tanned neck hugged by a silver chain? gods. okay, yeah, this was slightly indulgent on your part.

but, in your defense, azriel had begun sporting silver signet rings on several of his elegant fingers. you thought a similarly-fashioned chain would tie the look together nicely. this was just a product of your own observant nature. really, that's all it was.

...

azriel let out an exhale of astonishment, meeting your eyes with widened ones of his own.

"this, is - i mean. beautiful. this is - thank you," he breathed out, setting the now-empty box, and the book he'd been cradling under his arm, down beside you. he gently began working at the clasp of the chain, his movements so careful, you could tell he was trying his hardest not to break it - ruin it.

you stood up before him, taking a step so that you were right in front of his towering frame. "here," you whispered, tenderly taking the chain from his hands. you unclasped it with ease, standing on your tip-toes to reach behind his neck - wanting to place it on him. he ducked his head for you politely, allowing you to see what you were doing a bit better.

you were so close to him, and with his head ducked down towards you, his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder. you fought every instinct within your body that was screaming at you to move closer, breathe deeper, inhale his scent, touch him.

but you didn't. you held your composure, clasping the necklace around his neck - making sure to be careful of his wings.

azriel had his eyes closed, also fighting similar urges of his own. he wanted so badly to rest his face within the crook of your neck, wrap his arms around the middle of your back, tug you into him.

two lovesick idiots, silently pining for the other.

necklace now adorning his neck, you stepped back. azriel stood to his full height once more, and he peered down at you with a gaze that he fought to keep friendly - instead of one that screamed complete adoration.

"well," he croaked out, swallowing thickly. your eyes darted to the movement, watching his adam's apple bob beneath the silver jewelry.

you were fucked.

"how's it look?", he continued, his hand reaching towards his neck to trace the smooth, curbed chain.

it was your turn to swallow hard, which of course, he noticed. he fought a smirk, especially when he witnessed your cheeks growing hot.

you pursed your lips together, trying your best to think of a response that wasn't akin to a dog barking.

"it's -," you sighed thoughtfully, smiling warmly up at him, "you look very handsome," you stated playfully, hooking a finger underneath the chain, tugging him towards you lightly.

he faltered for a moment, almost stumbling into you. not because of your light tug, but because of your words. handsome. he loved that compliment - was one of his favorites. however, the one bit of praise that always sent him to his knees was being called pretty.

"so pretty, az," you whispered again, seemingly more to yourself than to him, eyes caught on his neck.

okay, so now azriel was fucked.

a/n: okay, i think this was my favorite installation of this series so far. i'm giggling and kicking my feet, and i'm the one writing it lmfao. azriel is making me WEAK, i need to lay down now. let me know what you think! thank you for reading <3

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun @topaz125 @mrsjna @lovegoodlunaa @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @luna9876 @kennedy-brooke

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[rafesbabygirlx]

What You Do To Me - Frat!Rafe x Pogue reader

Masterlist

Summary: You and Rafe were both from OBX just the opposite sides of the island. You also ended up at the same college. Continuing his reign as the most popular person on campus, he still is obsessed with you. You never gave him the time of day, and he decided he couldn’t wait anymore.

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT

Rafe and you knew of each other from OBX. He was the Kook king and you were the quiet Pogue. You never spoke to each other but would always hear his insults that he spewed to your friends and would watch his assaults on JJ and Pope. You were the only one to never notice the looks he would give you. You were never bothered by him, and that pissed him off. Girls on the island would do anything to be around him but you never gave him the time of day. Not around town, not at parties, not at the boneyard. It’s like he was invisible to you. 

With complete shock, you two ended up at the same college. You were there on scholarship and he was a year above you but you still ended up in the same writing class. He, of course, continued his reign of arrogance as president of his frat but what he didn’t know was how you blossomed the first year he was gone. You were confident in yourself, your hair grew out and the clothes you wore now hugged every curve just right. He’d notice you every day. Sometimes you’d smile at him as a courtesy but most of the time you’d walk in and just go to your seat. Just like how he continued his same ways, you continued yours with unintentionally ignoring him. 

Your roommate and two other friends dragged you out to a frat party. You didn’t know what frat and you didn’t care you couldn’t wait to have fun. You wore a shirt black dress and heels. The four of you smoked a joint on the walk and immediately headed to the kitchen and down 5 shots each.

It all hit you at once, you were pulled to the makeshift dance floor and you let yourself go. 

Rafe's eyes were locked onto you as he drank in every detail - the way your hips swayed with each move, the way your dress hugged her curvy frame, the way your long  hair fell in soft waves around your face. He couldn't take it anymore. He pushed through people to get you. He moved up silently, pressing his chest to your back. You invited the touch, even without knowing who it was, and moved one hand to his neck and the other to his thigh as you pushed yourself into him a little more and began to grind your hips. 

He moved his lips close to your ear and whispered, “Hey Pogue.” 

Your drunken heavy eyelids shot open and you froze at his words. You spun around to look at him. 

“Rafe?!” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He cocks his head as he takes all of you in up close. “I don’t remember you looking this good back in Kildare.” He smirks and runs a finger down your side. 

“Stop it.” You shoo away his hand and grab your roommate's arm and walk away. 

You’re silent for the rest of the night, avoiding him like the plague. You’re too caught up in your thoughts. What no one knew about you back in OBX was how attracted you were to Rafe. You know your friends would hate you for it, and he’d never be caught dead with a Pogue. So you were stuck, alone, with your feelings. The only way you knew how to let them go was to pretend he didn’t exist. 

.⭒☆━━━━━━━━━✰━━━━━━━━━☆⭒.

A week had gone by and you stuck to your routine. Go to classes and ignore Rafe. Your Friday night writing class starts in 10 min and you arrive before Rafe. You sit in the front row so you don’t have to make eye contact. He comes in 5 minutes after you and looks at you but you don’t react, despite how hard it was not to. He sits in his usual spot in the back. 

Rafe sat in the lecture hall, antsy and agitated.  He couldn't take his eyes off the gorgeous girl a few rows ahead. You had no idea the effect you had on him. He'd fantasized about you countless nights, jerking off to the mental image of you tied to his bedposts, panting and spent from his dirty fantasies when he was done. 

When the mid-lecture break came, he couldn't take it any longer, he strode purposefully towards you at the front of the room.  "No more playing," he growled, into your ear. He wrapped his big hand around your wrist and yanked you up. 

Rafe barged into an empty classroom a few doors down, his eyes dark with lustful intent. He threw you up against the door, locking it behind you. "I’m gonna fuck you now, ok?" he muttered. He grabbed the bottom of your shirt and looked at you, you looked back into his eyes and nodded. He followed with his shirt and then your sweatpants, exposing your lace bra and thong. 

"So damn sexy, you wear this to lecture?” he groaned and licked his lips. 

You whimpered when he grabbed your waist, already wet for him, knowing you couldn't resist his domineering possessiveness. His eyes smoldered with lustful promise. The unknown, built up tension between the two of you was finally being let go after all these years. 

“Fuck, I'm done waiting. You're mine," he vowed fiercely

Rafe couldn't take it anymore. In one fluid motion, he scooped you up, carrying you to the empty desk. He spread your legs out, getting comfortable in between, devouring your neck. 

"Tell me you're my good girl and get on your knees" he demanded possessively and roughly massaged your tits over your bra before unhooking it and throwing it somewhere in the room. You whimpered but didn't dare resist him. His eyes promised death if you tried to leave his room. You shifted on the desk sitting up on your knees. You give him puppy eyes and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I’m-” you lean in closer to his ear. “Your very, very bad girl, Rafe.” 

He takes a deep breath and turns you around. Your knees skid across the desk. He pushes the top half of you down and then slips off your panties, so your ass is on full display for him. 

He spread your legs a little, shoving his tongue inside you. You yelped at the sudden feeling, but tried to stifle your cries. He ate you out roughly, shoving three fingers inside your dripping hole. 

"Tell me again, what's mine?" he growled out before lashing her clit with his tongue. 

"Oh fuck! Me! I'm all yours," you panted breathlessly, already on the edge from his filthy words.

He growled his approval before spreading her ass cheeks wide, eating her out roughly. He fucked her with his tongue, loving how she submitted to him. He ate your pussy and resumed fingered you until you were screaming and shaking. Your neck was sore from the bent over position you were in, and your knuckles are white from gripping the edges of the desk. Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks and he continues his movements until you come down from your high. He collapsed onto you, resting his head on your back. You stayed like that for a second, he pulled you up by your hair and turned you back around to face him. 

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then grabbed you by the neck and pulled you into a sloppy feverish kiss. He pulls away from you and cups his hands on your cheeks. He goes to kiss you again but misses your face as you sink to the floor. 

On the floor, you reached up to rub his cock over his pants. He pushes back a little, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, and you notice how hard he is, his cock straining against the material. You reach down and roughly unzip his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His hard cock springs free, and you gasp at the sight of it, already standing tall and proud.

You grab his cock with one hand and stroke, resting the other on his thigh. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you marvel at the sheer size of him. You give his red tip a gentle kiss, savoring the salty taste of his pre-cum. You lick it off your lips, and he watches you intently, his eyes burning with desire.

As you look up at him, you can see the hunger in his gaze, and you know that he's ready to take things further. You can feel his cock pulsing in your hand, and you know that he's already close to coming. You lean in closer, running your tongue along the length of his shaft, and he groans in response.

He wraps his fingers around your hair, pulling you closer, and you feel his cock twitching against your lips. You take him deeper into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat. The sensation is intense, and you find yourself getting more and more turned on. You start to move your head slowly, taking him in and out of your mouth in a rhythm that seems to please him. His moans and grunts encourage you to continue, and you feel a sense of power and control as you bring him closer to climax. The taste of him fills your mouth, and you find yourself becoming more and more addicted to the sensation. You bob your head back and forth, using your hand to stoke the rest of him because he’s too big. You gag on his length, but continue your movements. 

You can feel his hips bucking against you, and you know that he's close to coming. You pull back, and he groans in protest, his cock still hard and ready. You look up at him, and he locks eyes with you, his eyes filled with lust and desire. You can feel his cock pulsing in your hand, and you know that he's ready to explode.

"You want to cum?" you ask, your voice husky with desire.

"You're fucking mine I fucking own you,," he repeated himself again. 

“You said that already.” You laugh, removing your hand from his cock and settling both on his thighs. 

He grabs your chin and leans down, “don’t tease me.” 

You smile, then open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue. The corner of Rafe’s mouth turns upwards and he silently understands what you're asking for. He grabs his cock and taps your tongue with the tip. He pulls your head back slightly and hovers over allowing him to enter you more deeply. As Rafe slowly starts to enter your mouth, you feel a mix of anticipation and excitement. You adjust your position and grip the back of his thighs to stabilize, your lips wrapping around him, and just as you're about to get used to the sensation, he suddenly slams his entire length down your throat. The force of his movement catches you off guard, and you feel a rush of air being pushed out of your lungs as you suck in a deep breath through your nose.

Rafe grunts loudly, his body tensing with pleasure as he feels the warmth of your throat enveloping him. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, and he starts to thrust, taking himself in and out of your mouth in a slow, rhythmic motion. The feeling is overpowering, and you find yourself getting more and more turned on as he uses you to continue to pleasure him.

The moans you release send vibrations throughout his body. You only add fuel to the fire once you hollow your cheeks and move your tongue with his thrusts, making the suction even more severe. Drool pools on your chin and slowly drips onto your knees. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you refuse to tap out.The taste of him fills your mouth, the scent of him is overwhelming as he slams into your mouth again and again. He's too powerful, too dominant. He's going to make you swallow every drop, and he's going to do it with a passion that leaves you breathless.

“Fuck baby.” He moans and throws his head back. 

You feel him twitch in your mouth. Rafe's eyes blaze with intensity as he starts to quicken his thrusts, his hips pumping wildly as he drives himself deeper into your throat. As he continues, he starts to groan, his voice low and husky. The sound sends shivers down your spine, and you feel yourself getting more and more turned on. You're not sure how much more you can take, but you know that you won't stop until he's finished.

Rafe's cock throbs on your tongue, and you can feel his precum dripping down the back of your throat. He's close, so close, and you know that he's going to cum hard. You start to swallow, your throat contracting around him, and he responds by increasing his thrusts even more.

You feel him hit deep in the back of your throat, and you gag hard, but he doesn't stop. He's too far gone, too lost in the moment. He's going to cum, and he's going to cum hard. And as he does, you feel his cock explode in your mouth, his cum flooding your throat and filling you up.

You swallow, your throat burning with the intensity of his release. And as he pulls out of you, his chest is heaving. You rest your hands on the floor, leaning over trying to catch your breath. He brushes the back of your head, and gives you his hand to pull you up. You lean against the desk and you both are still breathing heavily. 

As Rafe inches closer to you, you feel a sense of anticipation building. He settles in between your legs, his eyes locked on yours, and you can see the hunger there. He lifts you up and sits you back down, your body weightless in his hands. You feel his tip poke your thigh, and you can't help but wonder how the hell he can still be hard.

But Rafe isn't interested in taking it slow. He moves his hand down and begins to rub your clit, his fingers expertly stroking the sensitive flesh. You throw your head back in pleasure, your body arching towards him as he teases you. You're sopping wet, your pussy aching to feel him, and you know that it won't be long before you cum again.

But Rafe has other plans. He moves his hand away from your clit and positions himself at your entrance. You feel his tip pressing against you, and you gasp as he enters you in one brutal thrust. The sensation is overwhelming, the force of his movement makes your head spin. You feel him stretch you out, filling you up in a way that makes you feel alive.

He leaves no room for adjustment, pounding into you hard and fast. The only sound is the slapping of their bare skin, harsh grunts, and your breathy moans. You can feel your nipples rubbing against his chest, the friction sending sparks through your body. Your hair is tangled in his fists, and he pulls your head back, his fingers digging into your scalp as he continues to fuck you. He licks, and nips at your neck, the overstimulation has you squirming beneath, but he tugs on your hair harder to keep you still.

You try to push back against him, to meet his thrusts, but he's too strong. He's in control, and he's going to take what he wants. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, and you know that he's close. You're close too, the intensity of the moment pushing you towards orgasm.

As he continues to fuck you, you start to feel your body tense, your muscles contracting with pleasure. You can feel your clit throbbing, and you know that you're going to cum. And as you do, you feel Rafe's cock explode inside you, his cum filling you up as he continues to pump into you.

He finally pulls out of you, completely out of breath. You lie there, your body still trembling with pleasure. “Don’t think, I’m done with you.” He smirks, pulling you into another kiss. 

Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, and then he spun you around, bending you over the desk. He spread your legs, exposing your pussy, dripping with his cum, to him. He grabbed his cock and pushed it against your entrance, and then he thrusted hard, slamming into you again. You cried out in pain and pleasure, your body taking his thick cock. He fucked you hard, his hips slamming into you, and you could feel yourself getting closer to yet another orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Cum for me again..."

You moaned in agreement, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. He pulled you up against him, your back to his chest, one hand around your throat. The other reached down and rubbed your clit, sending you over the edge. You came apart in his arms, screaming his name as he followed right behind you. 

"You're it, baby. My everything," he swore, his eyes filled with a dangerous possessiveness. After all this time, he finally had you

You screamed in pleasure, your body convulsing around his cock, as he came with a roar, filling you with his seed.

He collapsed on the desk next to you, both of you  trying to catch your breath. He turned your face to his and he kissed you deeply,

"Your mine, say it, let me hear it again," he demanded between kisses. 

“I’m yours, Rafe.”

.⭒☆━━━━━━━━━✰━━━━━━━━━☆⭒.

Taglist - click the link to join

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite

[gemharvest]

RGB idea GF wiping the floor with BF and Pico in Uno even if they team up against her (she's eating the cards)

"Uno!"

"Jesus Christ, Gee, this is the third game in a row. There's no way you're that lucky." Pico gestured to the girl, holding nine cards in his hand.

"You're just a sore loser." Girlfriend said with a small laugh. "Besides, it's not my fault Biff keeps hitting you with draw fours."

Upon being called out, Boyfriend just gave a toothy smile and shrugged. Pico stared daggers at him; at the both of them.

"It's just starting to feel suspicious, that's all." The ginger grumbled, shaking his head.

"Ska be d'bop."

"Don't you start too-"

A few more moves, and Girlfriend placed down her last card. The game officially over, Boyfriend took the cards to reshuffle for a new one. He hesitated for a moment, then looked at the stack more carefully.

"Ba bo..?" Pico looked over at the cards as well, then furrowed his brows.

"Yeah, I swear the stack keeps getting smaller each game. We're not losing cards, are we?"

Girlfriend felt a bit anxious at the boys' observation, though was able to hold a perfect poker face.

Truth be told, she wasn't that good, or even lucky, at Uno.

What gave her that winning streak? Well, her boys would get distracted easily; staring into their cards with a bit too much focus or giving their phones a quick check when it wasn't their turn. In these brief moments, she would slip a card into her mouth and eat it.

Probably not the smartest idea; though much like Boyfriend, she wasn't really known for them. It was only a couple cards a game, and neither boy paid enough attention to the others' card counts to even notice. As long as she could get away with it, she'd do it.

"It doesn't look that small? Maybe we misplaced a few cards last time we played."

Pico raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't seem to have any desire to argue.

"Maybe, I guess I'll have to keep an eye out the next time I clean."

Nice, they're still none the wiser.

Boyfriend nodded at the pair, before splitting the deck to shuffle. After a few passes, he set the deck face-down, smiling at his work; the boy probably enjoyed shuffling the deck more than actually playing the game.

Cards were dealt, and a new game began. Pico seemed to be putting an effort into paying more attention, so Girlfriend had to go quite a few turns without pulling her trick.

Eventually, his eyes turned to his own cards. Girlfriend waited a moment, making sure he was truly focused while Boyfriend agonized over what card to play himself, before carefully slipping one of her cards out and into her mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Girlfriend froze, card stuck halfway in her mouth. Beside her, Pico's head was still in his cards, though his eyes were raised and staring at her.

Slowly, he lowered his cards and his stare turned into an incredulous look.

"Have you been eating your cards? Oh my god?"

Girlfriend took the card out of her mouth, now crumpled and slightly damp, and held it with the rest of her deck casually; as if she hadn't just been caught.

"Whaaaat, no... Why would I do that?" She spoke, voice feigning innocence. Pico huffed at the lie.

"Bullshit. I can't believe you're trying to pretend you didn't just get caught." Pico scolded, voice more amused than angry. "How in the hell did you even come to the conclusion that that was how you should win."

"Well... It's not like you guys had noticed cards going missing until now."

Boyfriend, Who had been staring silently up until then, suddenly burst out into a fit of musical laughter. Pico and Girlfriend followed suit, not being able to suppress chuckles at how ridiculous the situation was.

While the laughing fit was probably only a few seconds, it felt several minutes long to the trio. Pico was the first to speak after, voice still cracking slightly from the laughter.

"Oh, you are definitely banned from Uno for a while. You also owe me a new deck." He wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning as he spoke.

"Awww come on, I promise I'll stop doing it." Girlfriend pouted, giving puppy dog eyes to Pico. "The deck thing is fair though, I'll bring it the next time I'm over."

"Beebop ska doh??"

"Yeah, I'm not budging on the ban. You'll have to deal with the consequences of your actions, sweetheart." He shook his head gently while he spoke.

Girlfriend stuck her tongue out at him, playful yet clearly not happy with the decision.

"Wow, you're so mean to me over just a few cards."

[mixxiew]

cruise of love | hc

chapter four: a shitty first day

yn’s heart buzzed with excitement and nerves as she stepped into the classroom with her two best friends by her side, the chatter of students bouncing off the walls. the room was bright and airy, with large windows overlooking the vast ocean, the shimmering blue water reflecting sunlight into the room. It was hard to believe she was here—on a cruise ship, no less—about to start a semester of studying while traveling the world.

“yn!” jaemin waved her over from the middle row.

she weaved through the rows of students, her tote bag bumping against her hip, and after she found her seat (thankfully near him) she sat down.

giselle lets out a big groan after seeing her seat so far from her friends and so did rei, founding herself in the front seat.

yn waved while sending them kisses just to comeback to jaem.

“good morning sir” she greeted, glancing around as she pulled out her notebook. “this place is packed.”

jaemin nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “packed and full of eye candy. I already spotted someone from last night’s party.” his voice dropped to an excited whisper. “two rows ahead, three seats to the left. don’t be too obvious!”

yn tried not to laugh as she casually looked in the direction he mentioned. “the guy in the navy sweater?”

jaemin nodded dramatically, clutching his chest. “that’s him. Isn’t he so hot? I swear he smiled at me when I walked in.”

“I think he was just being polite, he looks like a puppy” Y/N teased, earning a playful shove from jaemin.

as she scanned the room, her eyes landed on a group of boys sitting near the back. on of them, a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and a shy demeanor, caught her attention. he was laughing at something one of his friends said, his smile lighting up his face.

“omg that’s the guy!” she whispered, nudging jaemin.

he followed her gaze and grinned. “the hottie on twitter? yeah i saw him earlier, he’s even hotter in person”

“very” yn admitted, her lips curving into a small smile.

her eyes probably longed too much on the boy because one of his friend spotted her and waved at her, making her blush from head to toe

before anything else could happen, the professor entered the room, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “good morning, everyone! welcome to Semester at the Sea. I’m Professor Paul, and I’ll be your instructor for Global Studies this semester.”

the room quieted as Professor Paul launched into his introduction, explaining the syllabus and what they could expect over the next few months.

yn was jotting down notes when the door suddenly swung open with a loud thud.

every head in the room turned as someone strolled in—late and completely unapologetic.

it was him.

that motherfucker.

haechan.

or whatever his ass name was.

yn’s stomach dropped. he was dressed in a crisp white shirt and blue jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. he carried himself with the same effortless arrogance as before, his bag slung over one shoulder.

“ah, Mr. Lee” Professor Paul said, his tone light but teasing at the same time.

“so nice of you to join us. Were you saving the best entrance for last?”

the class erupted in laughter, but haechan didn’t seem fazed. he flashed a lazy grin.

“just wanted to make sure everyone noticed me, Professor.”

“well, congratulations. mission accomplished. now, find your seat before I start assigning essays as punishment.”

haechan chuckled, his gaze sweeping the room as he sauntered down the aisle. yn’s heart sank as she realized he was heading straight toward her row.

“please don’t let it be near me. please don’t let it be near me” she muttered under her breath.

jaemin looked at her laughing a bit.

yn know that giselle was killing him with her eyes.

just in time Professor Paul pointed to the empty seat right beside her.

“that one’s yours, Mr. Lee. take it.”

yn froze, her worst nightmare coming true in real-time.

haechan’s eyes lit up with recognition the moment he saw her. a slow, smug smile spread across his face as he slid into the seat next to hers. “well, well” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “i guess we are kinda fated at this point.”

stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. “this must be my punishment for something” she muttered.

haechan chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “oh, don’t look so thrilled. i’m a great deskmate.”

she looked at my for a second before taking her attention back to the professor. “I suggest you to bring a raincoat for future classes.”

“don’t be so dramatic,” haechan said, propping his chin on his hand as he turned to face her. “you should be flattered. I don’t usually remember people.”

“oh, lucky me” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Professor Paul clapped his hands again, pulling the class’s attention back to the front. “all right, let’s focus, everyone. we’ve got a lot to cover today.”

yn tried to focus, but she could feel haechan’s gaze on her, practically boring a hole into the side of her head. finally, she turned to him, whispering harshly. “stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring” he whispered back, his lips twitching with amusement. “I’m observing.”

“same thing” she hissed.

“relax yn” he said, leaning closer. “we’ve got a whole semester together. might as well get comfortable.”

her jaw clenched as she turned back to her notebook, determined to ignore him. but the playful glint in his eyes and the smug curve of his lips told her one thing:

this was only the beginning.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

previous | masterlist | next

౨ৎauthor’s note: this is for y’all cuties a written chap bc i love them! 😁 hope y’all enjoy it!

౨ৎ taglist! @dlin3 @haechology @iamsimplyasimp @dudekiss3r @gukuwii @minhosprettywife @catpjimin @injunnie-lemon @snoopyjimin @spacejip @yewshi @delululi

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 29

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Victory/Blood and Cheese (Alyssa II) 

It was a horrible day - the clouds covered the sun before it could rise. An equally horrible storm was happening beyond Dragonstone, making it hard for Daegon’s boat to settle near the shore. A loud groan escapes his mouth, seeing that there was no way that his boat would meet the castle in time. 

“We should take a rest, my lord.” his loyal squire whispered, also ceasing his rowing. Daegon is brought back to reality - the reality that his cousin is dead, and that his sister’s husband was the one that murdered him. 

“What do you think will happen next, Dorren?” he turned to look behind him, the older man had a defeated face. 

“We'll tell the moment we enter Dragonstone,” the man answered, rubbing his hands together to create warmth. 

Daegon knew that there was something he should’ve done to prevent Lucerys’ death. He should’ve sworn his hand to one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters, pledged to them his undying loyalty - but he froze. He froze at the sight of Vhagar and Aemond asking for his eye. 

Daegon was Lord of Harrenhal, but he felt like the lord of none. 

“Do you think muña will be mad at me?” he looked down - imagining his mother’s disappointed face. The man chuckles softly, “I’ve never seen your mother cross with you.” he replied, comforting the boy. 

“She will be proud of you, my lord.” Dorren added, placing his hands back on the oar. 

Daegon was about to do the same, but he began to hear rumbling - slow flapping of a dragon’s wings. He looks behind him, and Dorren hears it too. “Are there any dragons we should look out for?” the man asks, and his mind drifts off to the books that his uncle provided. 

The Cannibal, the Sheepstealer - and countless dragonlings. 

“A lot of them,” he whispered while lowering his head - seeing a dragon fly above them. The dragon was black as coal - with pointy scales. It lets out a loud roar - shaking their boat slightly. “The Cannibal,” he mumbled to himself while holding onto Dorren. 

The man begins rowing the boat again - keen to escape the watchful eye of the dragon, but it keeps following them. 

“Stop,” Daegon commanded - the dragon begins charging at them. The man closes his eyes, and the dragon swerves at the last minute. “Does he want to eat us?” Dorren freezed, and the boy shakes his head. “I-I don’t think so,” he mumbled, hands reaching to pet the dragon. The Cannibal flies down again, but this time - he uses his belly to land on the water. 

Daegon reaches for the dragon’s snout slowly - placing his hand with caution on the dragon’s scales. He takes a deep breath, seeing that he wasn’t dead yet. “I think he wants you to ride him,” Dorren remarks, earning a twitch of a brow from the dragon. 

A warm feeling enters the young lord’s veins, flowing through him and prompting him to exit the boat and board the dragon. He looks down on Dorren, “Will you be safe?” he inquired, feeling the slow falling of the water on his skin. “Yes,” the man replied - and that was all the dragon needed to fly. 

A loud scream exits the boy’s mouth, feeling air and water crash on his body. “Slow down,” he mumbled - grabbing onto the dragon’s scales in order to not fall. The Cannibal relents, slowing down with reluctance. 

—

Daemon’s hands were wide open to welcome his little boy. “Our boy has claimed a dragon,” he mumbled while wrapping his arms around Daegon. Instead of saying words of appreciation - or of love, the boy takes a deep breath. “Prince Lucerys is dead.” he announces - Rhaenyra’s smile drops. 

She begins marching towards her nephew, refusing to believe him. “Who killed him?” she inquired - biting the inner corner of her lips. Her sweet summer boy was taken from her - all she wanted was to make the murderer feel the same way. “Who killed him?” she repeated, watching as Daegon evades her stare. “Daegon,” she says firmly - holding his collar. 

“Prince Aemond,” he replied reluctantly - knowing that there was a connection between them. Rhaenyra’s face turns stoic and cold. She lets go of the boy - and begins striding towards the castle. Ignoring Saera who was arguing with her. 

—

(Alyssa’s POV) 

Queen Alicent was my guardian in the absence of my parents - she was my second mother, providing me with knowledge and advice. But something was different about today. The banners that once flashed black and red, were now green and gold. King Viserys and Princess Rhaenyra would never approve of the change, unless something was amiss.

"Alyssa," the Queen smiled, pouring herself a glass of tea. "My Queen," I bowed, making my way beside her. "- have you seen Aemond?" I inquired, searching the room for the familiar face of my husband. "I will be frank with you, dear girl." the Queen took a deep breath, "- The King is dead." she added.

A gasp escapes my mouth - eyes brimming with tears at the realization that Aegon was king. "- and I have sent Aemond to make negotiations with other houses." the Queen replied - anticipating all the emotions that were flowing out of me. 

"Do you believe that we'll be on your side?" I spat - she was like a mother to me, but couldn't betray my actual mother in favor of her. "War will not brew, Alyssa. Alliances are being forged," she comforted, placing a hand on my shoulder - but I shove her away. "What will you do to my siblings? Will you kill them? They pose a threat to your very claim," I interrogate - cursing the gods that there wasn't a knife or a dagger near me.

"They will be cupbearers and squires, my dear."

"My mother would rather kill herself than let that happen." I snap, and someone clears their throat from behind the both of us. It was Larys Strong - my uncle, and he had a dark grin on his face. "Queen Alicent, Princess Alyssa." the man curtsied, quickly making his way beside the Queen - and whispering a few strings of words on her ears. I was unable to hear it, but the premise was clear

Prince Lucerys Velaryon is dead.

Alicent's eyes widened, eyes suddenly shaking and spilling drops of the tea that she was holding. "I apologize, Alyssa - if our meeting is cut short." she stood up, motioning for Ser Criston to bring me back to my room. "What is the meaning of this? I refuse to be included in this treason," I wiggle away from the knight's grasp but his hold remains firm.

"Ser Criston, I beg of you." I pleaded - his brown eyes softened, "I will bring you to Aelor, but please follow whatever the Queen commands." he whispered, pulling me away from the chambers.

—

Rhaenyra takes a deep breath, staring at the men in front of her. “Mysaria mustn’t know of this,” she asserted - knowing that the whore was on her sister’s side. “- I want you to execute Prince Aelor.” she commanded, dropping a few gold coins on the table. 

“It will be done, my lady.” the older man replies with a smirk. 

“What’s your name again?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“My name’s Blood.” 

“And I’m Cheese.”

next chapter>>

that's a wrap guys, see u in 2024

taglist: @watercolorskyy @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @issybee0611 @tato0od @delaynew @thisbihreadstoomuch @plutoscosmoss @immyowndefender @marvelescvpe @batmans-love @luanasrta @tesha-i-guess @valeridarkness

[0sincerelyella]

Her Knights In Shining Armor - J.B

Summary: y/n and joe run into the end of the beginning to their exciting new journey, and the boys are happier than they ever could be.

Warnings: i don’t capitalize on purpose this isn’t a school essay. these are just for funzies for me and you, hope you enjoy!!

(mason is six, ollie is four)

As a 9 month pregnant woman, it was difficult for y/n to get up and down the stairs to the stadium at this point. Sadly, that is the boys favorite place to watch the games. At this point in y/ns pregnancy she couldn’t risk sitting in the stands, in fear of not having a way to get out. she didn’t want to ruin the boys fun at the games so they sat with Joes dad in the stands while y/n sat in the VIP box with joes mom.

Todays game is the biggest of the season. it’s the AFC championship game against none other than Kansas city for the third year in a row. It was in the beginning of the fourth quarter, the bengals were up one touchdown and Kansas city had the ball.

Y/n sat in the VIP box with Robin, on the edge of her seat. she’s screaming and yelling at the plays and the flags, she’s standing and pacing back and forth. “Y/n maybe you should sit down, you don’t wanna stress bean out” y/n sighed, angry at the distance between kansas city and the end zone

She obliged and sat down, holding her stomach, feeling an odd sensation she didn’t enjoy much.

looking back to the game she quickly stood in anger, watching as the chiefs scored a touch down. “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE-“ a sharp gasp stopped the yelling.

a pool of water flooded the ground, and y/n held her stomach as tight as she could. “Y/n? oh my goodness!” Robin stood as fast as she could. “It’s time no it can’t be time” her breathing became heavy as everyone in the box began to help her out of it as Robin called staff on the side to inform Zac. Quickly, the staff gave zac the phone.

“Zac i know it isn’t the time but y/n is going into labor” Y/n was groaning angrily as she tried to get herself down the stairs. “Oh no, i’m gonna have to pull joe” “NO! do not let him leave!” “y/n he’s going to want to be at the hospital.” “i know but this game is important to him- AH- and me, and it’s almost ove- CRAP just DONT LET HIM LEAVE”

Zac sent security up to get them and drive the two to the hospital.

on the feild, the fourth quarter had 5 minutes left as y/n began to make her way to the hospital.

Joe was throwing the ball and jamar ran it into the end zone, putting them up a touchdown. joe celebrated with his teammates as he heard zac’s voice through his helmet. “Joe, don’t freak but your wife’s going into labor” joe froze for a second, then ran towards the sideline “coach you gotta pull me” zac explained what y/n requested but joe was not having it. “i’m not missing my child’s birth!” “Joe y/n wants you to win the game, it’s almost over just push through and we will get you to the hospital as quickly as possible”

joe was not happy about it but he agreed, staying the rest of the game.

Jim, joes dad, had been told to let the boys finish the game and then take them to the hospital. so that’s what he did.

after the game, which the bengals had won, sending them to the super bowl. but joe had no time to celebrate. He rushed to the hospital as quick as possible in pads and all. He ran as fast as he could into the hospital, being directed to the room y/n was in. when he saw her laying in the hospital bed he completely broke down. “i thought i missed it” he was about to cry.

“Enough of that- OW- did we win?” she was wincing and screaming, but cared about nothing but the game. “Yes baby, we won, now come on let’s deliver this baby”

——————————

as quickly as he could, joe ran out into the waiting room, only to be faced with his whole team, his mom, his dad, but not his two sons

“What are all you guys doing here? you should be celebrating” the big grin on his face never left. “We couldn’t celebrate without our QB and our new D1 athlete” Jamar said. “So tell us joe, How is my new baby?” his mom asked

“She’s beautiful” that’s when the tears fell. the entire lobby filled with yells of joy, yelling about this beautiful new baby girl.

“her name is Bailey Eleanor Burrow” Robin began to cry as she hugged her son. “can i see her?” “i wanted the boys to meet her first, where are they?” just as he said that, Oliver and mason ran into the room playing tag.

“Daddy! Daddy! how’s bean?” joe smiled, grabbing his boys, taking them to the room.

when the boys poured into the room, y/n was holding bailey to her chest. “boys” she smiled, as oliver climbed into the bed. “oli stop it!” “no joey he’s okay” joe took his daughter as the boys hugged their mother close. “boys, i want you to meet your baby sister, bailey”

the first night they took bailey home, she cried all night, as babies do. not only keeping joe and y/n awake but also mason and oliver.

specifically, one night, mason and oliver crept out of there room before their sister woke up to cry. they layed infront of her door and closed there eyes.

when bailey began to cry, joe got out of bed to tend to the new light of his life. when he walked into the room, he hadn’t noticed the crying stop. he looked at her crib, and low and behold the two boys had stood on chairs to bend down and help their sister sleep.

“boys? what’s going on?” the boys looked up. “hi daddy” ollie said, smiling brightly. “Sorry you woke up daddy, we wanted to keep bails safe tonight don’t worry” mason smiled, standing tall and bright.

“joey? what’s happe- boys what are you doing awake?” y/n walked into the room, smiling at her boys. “you should be sleeping”

“they wanted to protect bails” the smile widened.

“oh boys” y/n tiredly picked up oliver, and joe picked up mason, walking towards his girlfriend with a kiss on the forehead.

“you boys are her nights in shining armor”

[serickswrites]

John Mclane

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, gun, gunfire

Team Leader couldn't believe they had failed their team so significantly. Couldn't believe they had let Whumper get the drop on them all as they had fallen for the trap. Couldn't believe they now had to watch Whumper hurt their team. There was nothing Team Leader could do.

Whumper walked between Teammate One and Two, waving a gun in the air as they spoke. "I could just shoot them, make you watch as they bleed out."

"NO!" Team Leader strained against the rope that kept them in the chair.

Whumper chuckled as the stopped next to Smallest Teammate. "So sensitive." They carded their fingers through Smallest Teammate's hair. Smallest Teammate's eyes were wide with terror.

"Please, I--" Smallest Teammate began, but their words were cut off as Whumper shoved a gun in their mouth.

"WHUMPER STOP!" Team Leader roared.

Whumper smirked. "I will, this is getting kind of boring. Shall I just shoot them all and be done?"

"Please," Team Leader begged, "I can make it interesting. Please."

"The only thing that interests me, Team Leader is watching you suffer." Whumper moved to circle Teammate Two once more. "Perhaps there is a way to make it fun for all of us." They spun around and stared at Team Leader. "Shall we play a game?"

"Yes, please, just don't hurt them."

Whumper opened the cartridge of the revolver. They removed four of the six bullets. As they spun the cartridge, they smiled, "Let's play a little Russian Roulette. But with higher stakes. Two bullets instead of one."

"Whumper, please--"

"Team Leader, I'm giving you a chance to save your team. Two of you will walk away. Maybe even three if you play your cards right."

"Whumper, I can't let you--"

Whumper silenced Team Leader as they pointed the gun at Teammate One's head. "I could just end it now. Don't you want a chance for them to live?"

"Yes, yes, please. Whumper, just shoot me." Team Leader ignored the horrified looks on their team's faces. If Whumper wanted someone to die, it was better that they die.

Whumper frowned. "There's no fun in that. You'll get a turn in between each team member, Team Leader. Don't worry." And before Team Leader could protest, Whumper pulled the trigger. It clicked empty. Teammate One sagged with relief.

Team Leader sighed. Teammate One was safe and would make it out of here. Whumper walked over to Team Leader and shoved the gun to Team Leader's temple. "Your turn, though it would be a shame if you died before the rest of the players."

Team Leader closed their eyes, making their peace with the universe should it be their time to die. But the gun clicked empty.

Whumper laughed. "Good, I want you to stick around to the end."

Teammate Two looked up at Whumper rather than at Team Leader when Whumper put the gun beneath their jaw. "I will fucking end you," they spat in Whumper's face.

"If the odds are in your favor," Whumper said as they pulled the trigger. The gun clicked empty once more. "You are lucky, Teammate Two."

Whumper walked towards Team Leader once more as they took aim. "Let's see if lady luck smiles on you, Team Leader." They squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked empty one final time. "Two bullets in a row left. Oh Smallest Teammate you are the winner of tonight's game!"

Team Leader's mouth went dry as they realized that the next shot would surely kill whoever Whumper took aim at. "Whumper, wait! Please! I want another turn. Please, give me another turn!"

Whumper stopped as they carded their fingers through Smallest Teammate's hair once more. They pressed the gun to Smallest Teamate's temple. "Why would I let you cheat like that?"

"Because I'll suffer. You want to see me suffer! You don't have to shoot me in the head. You can shoot me somewhere else. Watch me bleed to death."

Whumper considered for a moment. Team Leader's heart froze in their chest as Whumper shook their head. "Why do that when I can watch you suffer over the loss of you beloved teammate? Then I can shoot you so you bleed out slowly."

"Whumper, please. Please. Shoot me." Team Leader blinked back tears as they tried desperately to convince Whumper to kill them.

"All in good time." And they pulled the trigger once more.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 28: Prompt- Skill @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 483 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Regulus was bored an hour into their second trip to the ice rink. Without James here to distract him, he’d nearly perfected his routine already and was left to idly practise his jumps or follow his brother as he chatted up anyone in his age range. There didn’t seem to be a goal in this mass socialisation campaign, other than to encourage more strangers to stare at him. To be fair, Sirius was a master of that particular skill.

“Reggie, come meet-”

“No.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and grabbed his arm. “Quit being a twat and talk to people.”

“Why bother? We leave in a week, Sirius. I doubt I’ll ever return to this little town again.”

“You will if you date James. The Potters come here every year.”

Regulus froze, then pulled his arm away. “What? No one said anything about dating.”

He wasn’t opposed to the idea obviously, but James hadn’t said a word about a relationship. They had chemistry, of course. That didn’t mean they were compatible. In fact, they couldn’t be more different. Regulus figured that he would get a holiday hook-up out of it, if he was lucky, then wait to see if there was a chance for more.

“Regulus Arcturus Black! Are you thinking about shagging my best friend, then breaking his heart?”

“Lower your voice!” Regulus hissed. “This is not the time or the place, nor is it any of your business.”

Sirius prodded his chest with his finger. “It couldn’t be more my business! You’re my brother and he’s my best friend!”

“Stop it. Just because we fancy each other doesn’t mean it has to be real.”

“The fuck it doesn’t!”

“Sirius, be realistic. I live in London and he lives in Edinburgh, that’s not-”

“Bollocks! It’s four hours via train.”

Regulus levelled a glare at him. “Each way.”

“Why can’t you move to Scotland? You don’t even have a job yet,” Sirius insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because I just rented a flat in London! I have a lease and roommates to consider.”

“You have me to consider!” Sirius stormed off of the ice.

Regulus hesitated, glancing up at the groups of people gaping at them from the stands. His face heated as he skated to the edge of the rink and stepped out. Immediately, he reached for his bag and plopped on the bench.

This was an absurd argument. Sirius had to know that. There was no reason to believe that James actually liked him, as a person. He certainly didn’t have any trouble ignoring him for three long, miserable days. It was Regulus who cracked first.

When he’d changed out of his skates and caught up with Sirius, his brother was still fuming. Regulus followed him silently as he reviewed their row. There was one detail nagging in his mind.

Breaking his heart. How would shagging James break his heart?

Next Part>>>

[aftermathfanfic]

He slowly approached her, sitting down beside her. They sat in silence, neither of them wanting to talk about the last adventure. Truthfully, Dewey didn’t really know how to talk about it. This wasn’t just inter-family drama and misunderstanding, it was… failure. Dewey didn’t know how else to describe it. It felt like they had failed.

If they hadn’t, that girl would still be alive.

~~~

Chanda waited in the agriculture plot of Quackmore Public, leaning against the shed wall with her hands in her pockets. Classes had just started, if she remembered the school’s timetable correctly, and there was nobody around. Not yet.

Her eyes scanned the bushels and bushes of the plot, an amateur farm about four yards across either side. Still, Chanda felt a pang of envy at it – her school certainly didn’t have anything like this.

Finally, she spotted her target, entering in through the back gate of the plot. He was a large pig boy, only a couple of years older than her, dressed in a green polo and brown shorts. His gaze was down at his phone as he walked through the plot, only looking up to notice her when he was a few feet away.

Once he did, he froze.

“Oh, God.” He muttered, taking a step back from her.

“Hey, Rhind.” Chanda greeted him. She cocked her head at him. “How’s the hand?”

The pig moved his right hand behind him, almost subconsciously. “…Fine.” Rhind replied warily. He watched her suspiciously. “…What do you want?”

Chanda was silent for a moment. She watched the older boy stew in his nervousness for a bit longer, then remarked, “I heard you were dealing again.”

“…I share a blunt or two with friends, sure. What of it?”

“Did Drake give that to you?”

“Oh, come… what, did he send you?” Rhind groaned, taking another step back. “I don’t work with you guys anymore, give me a break!”

Chanda almost cursed. Rhind wasn’t working for Doofus. He wouldn’t know anything about the statuette, or anything about his operations.

But he might know something else, she quickly realised. Deciding to play into his anxiety, Chanda stepped off the wall and approached him, asking in a low voice, “Why would he have sent me, Rhind?”

“You tell me! You’ve met the guy, anything can set him off!”

Chanda took another step forward. “Maybe he’s concerned about where you’re getting your goods from.”

“What? Wh-what do you mean?” Rhind spluttered as he stumbled backwards.

“His stash, idiot. He seems to think that’s where you’re getting your stuff.”

“Aw, come- You think I’m dumb enough to steal from that creep? He’s the one constantly spying on people, he should know it wasn’t me!”

“What wasn’t you?”

“Whatever it is you’re coming to me for!”

Chanda got right up in his face, cornering him against a row of overgrown tomato bushes. “…A couple pounds of our stuff went missing.” She lied, making herself sound as threatening as possible. “You sure you don’t know anything about that?”

“I don’t even know where he keeps his stash!” Rhind argued. “How would I steal from it?”

“You could’ve found out. You might have asked one of the other guys, cut him into it.”

“None of the other guys know where it is either! We only ever got it directly from him, he knows that!”

Chanda narrowed her eyes at him, letting him stand there, sweating nervously. After a moment, she backed down, realising he was telling the truth. Rhind breathed a sigh of relief as she let him relax a little.

“You don’t know anyone else who could have stolen it?” She questioned him, hoping to get a name out of him at least.

Unfortunately, Rhind shook his head. “No-one would be crazy enough.” He told her. “Not after what happened to Ryan.”

“Ryan?”

“…Ryan Goodfeather? The guy who got beat up by a bunch of Beagle Boys?”

Chanda vaguely remembered hearing something about that. She hadn’t paid much attention at the time, though. “What about him?” She asked.

Now Rhind was looking suspicious. “The kids who jumped him worked for Doofus, didn’t they?”

Chanda stared at him. “…Where’d you hear that?” She demanded.

“Ryan said so. He tried to steal something from Doofus, so he sic’d those guys on him. What, you didn’t hear about that?”

Chanda didn’t answer, staring into the middle distance.

“Right… you weren’t at the hospital. Too busy with your mom, or whatever.” He snorted, sounding amused. “Doofus never told you that he was in with the biggest gang in Duckburg?”

“…He probably didn’t want to scare me off.” Chanda muttered.

“Yeah, no kidding. I mean, a bunch of us quit when he heard that. No amount of money is worth working for those guys.” He folded his arms, shrugging. “I mean, it’s not that surprising if you think about it. The guy’s in the same crowd as Glomgold, Beaks… all those psychos.”

“No. It isn’t.”

Rhind looked down at her. “You want my advice? You should look at keeping your distance from that stuff too.” He suggested. “I know your mom’s important and all, but Doofus is in the middle of the Duckburg crazies. It’s dangerous shit.”

Chanda glared back up at him. “I didn’t ask for your advice.” She shot back. “And don’t go telling anyone about that Beagle Boy stuff. Like you said, dangerous shit.”

“…Sure. Whatever.” Rhind shrugged again. “So… can I go now?”

Chanda sighed reluctantly, then jerked her head towards the school proper. Rhind quickly took the hint, jogging away from her without looking back.

Chanda sighed, walking back to the shed and leaning against it. That hadn’t been a complete waste. Rhind might not have known where Doofus’s stash was, but it sounded like this Goodfeather guy did, or at least knew how to steal from him. She just needed to find him, pay him a visit, and find out what he knew. Still, this stuff about the Beagle Boys…

She shoved her hands deep into her jacket pockets, swallowing hard. Fighting high school bullies was one thing. Fighting the Beagle Boys was entirely another.

She felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She took it out and held it up, looking at who was calling her.

Green Dickhead, it read.

Chanda frowned, then answered it. “Hey.” She murmured into the phone.

“Did you tell anyone?”

“What?”

“Did you tell anyone?” Louie repeated aggressively.

“Oh, well, hello to you too.” Chanda muttered.

“Just give me a straight answer!” Louie hissed.

“No, I haven’t told anyone!” Chanda snapped. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?”

“Really? Because Doofus knows!”

“…What?”

“He knows! He called me last night to collect on my side of our ‘bargain’, and he knew that we were trying to get back at him! He’s known-!”

Chanda shut her eyes tight, letting her hand fall loosely to her side. He already knew. They’d failed before they even started. Frustratedly, she punched the shed wall behind her, gritting her teeth and holding back a string of curses. Reluctantly, she brought the phone back up to her ear.

“…or if he’s just… fuckin’ psychic, but he knew!” Louie rambled as she returned to the call. “And I know that I haven’t told anyone, so… like, you haven’t accidentally let it sleep to anyone who could’ve told him? Anyone at all?”

“No. Nobody.” Chanda replied. “He must’ve had someone spying on us back at the bus stop.”

“Not possible. We were alone back there. He had to have heard from someone, or-” He cut off briefly, then continued “-or he’s gone to the Karmic Court, and they’ve told him-!”

“Calm down.” Chanda told him forcefully. “You’re panicking.”

“If you had been through the crap that this asshole has put me through, then you’d be panicking too!” Louie snarled.

“Just focus!” Chanda commanded him. “Look… what did he say to you? Is your deal with him off?”

Louie scoffed. “Deal. Sure. Let’s call it that.” He sighed. “No… I managed to talk him into giving me an extra week. But whatever we do to get out of this, it has to be before then! Because if we give him time to prepare, then we’re screwed!”

“Okay.” Chanda said evenly. “So… what does this change for our plan?”

That seemed to give Louie pause. “…Nothing, I guess.” He admitted.

“Then stop panicking. All this means is that we need to be more careful.”

“Right… yeah.”

Chanda frowned. He sounded pained for some reason. “You alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just pulled something during while I was out adventuring. You know how it is.” Louie replied. “Or… I guess you wouldn’t. Whatever. Did you manage to catch any info on your end?”

“…Kind of. The guy I told you about, he doesn’t know anything. But he let slip someone who might.”

“Another one of his dealers?”

“Yeah. He tried to steal something from Doofus and got himself beat up for it. Chances are good that he was stealing from Doofus’s stash.”

“Perfect. Get a location from him, and whatever we find, we use it as leverage.”

“Assuming that he hasn’t moved it somewhere else.”

“That sounds like negative thinking to me.” Louie remarked. Chanda could hear the smirk in his voice. “You gotta be positive when it comes to planning, trust me.”

“…He… also told me something else.” Chanda added after a moment’s hesitation.

“What?”

“He said that Doofus gets his drugs from the Beagle Boys.”

“…What?”

“Apparently they’re the ones who jumped the second guy.”

“Oh my God, that’s great!” Louie said excitedly.

“…How?” Chanda asked worriedly.

“Gang connections? That’s excellent blackmail material! If we find proof of that, give it over to the cops, we could shut his operation for good! He’d be powerless!”

“He could easily tell the cops that he was being coerced by them!” Chanda argued.

“Won’t matter. Either way, he loses the drugs. He can’t exactly frame me for dealing if he’s got nothing to frame me with, can he?”

“I- okay, can- can you picture something for me?” Chanda said anxiously. “Let’s say we do that. And let’s say it shuts him down. He’s going to be pissed at us, right? He’s going to be pissed at me!”

“So?”

“He knows my mother’s name, dickhead!” Chanda snarled. “He knows where I live! He’ll tell the Beagle Boys, they’ll blame me, and they’ll come after my mother!”

“If he gets caught, the Beagle Boys aren’t going to give a crap what he says.” Louie rebutted. “But, fine. After we bring Doofus down, I can make sure your family’s safe. I know some people.” When Chanda didn’t respond, he added, “He’ll try to get back at you no matter how we go about this, Chanda.”

Chanda sighed, replying reluctantly, “Fine… what’s your next move, then? That Bosman guy, right?”

“Not anymore.” Louie replied. “He was bit a gamble anyway, and we don’t have time to be taking chances. But his brother – well, adopted brother – he technically works for my uncle. If anyone knows anything about Doofus’s operations, it’ll be him.”

“…Alright.” Chanda replied. “Let me know what you find out.”

“Yeah, you too. Be seeing you.”

Chanda put her phone back in her pocket, hanging up. She sighed, looking around to see if anyone could see her, then turned to leave the agriculture plot.

~~~

Whenever Webby got upset when they were younger, Dewey would be able to find Webby hiding in the mansion’s ventilation system, tucked away where nobody would find her except him. He always knew where she was hiding, and he always knew how to comfort her. He vividly remembered one time where he managed to make her laugh, her giggling reverberating off the steel walls of the vent duct and all across the house.

They were too big to hide in the vents now, obviously. She got stuck in a vent shaft when she was thirteen, and neither of them had attempted to crawl back in ever since. It had taken Dewey a while to figure out the new spot she would go when she wanted to be alone.

Alarmingly, she had chosen the roof.

That was where he found her now. He pushed up the rooftop trapdoor to find her sitting on the west wing roof, watching the sun setting on the horizon. Her back was turned to him.

He slowly approached her, sitting down beside her. They sat in silence, neither of them wanting to talk about the last adventure. Truthfully, Dewey didn’t really know how to talk about it. This wasn’t just inter-family drama and misunderstanding, it was… failure. Dewey didn’t know how else to describe it. It felt like they had failed.

If they hadn’t, that girl would still be alive.

“…Do…” Webby started to say, her voice tight. “…Do you think she had a sister?”

Dewey looked at her. Her eyes were red. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all last night.

He turned back to the sunset. “…I dunno.” He mumbled. He hadn’t seen the girl’s family. He knew that Scrooge had contacted the local authorities when they had emerged from the dungeon, but beyond that, he was in the dark.

Webby pulled her knees up to her chest. “I… I feel awful about it, but… I don’t remember her name.” She choked out. She looked at Dewey, almost begging him with her next question. “…Do you remember…?”

“Filomena.” Dewey replied, staring down at the city below them. “Her name was Filomena.”

Webby wiped her eyes, mumbling, “We- we should do something. To remember her.”

“Like what?”

“…I dunno. Just… something.”

“…We could send her family something.” Dewey suggested. “Or do something for them.”

“…Yeah.” Webby nodded. “Yeah… something from all of us.”

Dewey twiddled his thumbs, not sure how to transition to the topic he came up here to talk about. “Um… listen, Huey told us something that happened while we were gone, um… apparently he was, like, interrogated by this FBI agent about something…”

Webby looked up at him. “What?” She gasped in disbelief.

“Yeah, but Huey thinks that he was just trying to use him to get at Uncle Scrooge, or some-”

“What? What does- why?”

“I dunno. I dunno. The whole thing’s weird.”

Webby stared at him, beak agape. She turned to stare off at the horizon, stunned into silence.

“We, uh… told May and June.” Dewey added. “Well, Huey’s told them, and-”

“We saved the world!” Webby cried, throwing her hands up in a sudden burst of anger. “We beat Magica! Lunaris! F.O.W.L.! Who is this guy to treat us like criminals?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, it’s messed up.”

“My dad hasn’t done anything wrong!” Webby declared furiously. “Nothing! Whoever this agent is, he can go to hell!”

Dewey flinched. Webby didn’t swear often, and he knew to be careful whenever she did. He let her seethe quietly for a few moments before he said, “…The adults haven’t told us yet. But they’ll probably tell us that we’ll need to be careful, or that we need to lay low, or something. And with everything that happened at Galinha, they’ll also tell us…”

“…That we’re gonna stop adventuring again.” Webby finished for him.

“…Yeah. At least until they figure out what’s going on.”

“Great.” Webby muttered miserably.

“…Well, we won’t be going to school this week, at least.” Dewey added, trying to sound positive. “That’s something, right?”

“…Yeah. It’s something.”

Dewey could tell it hadn’t made her any happier.

~~~

Dinner was silent for the most part. They ate stew and mashed potatoes, with half the family on one side, half on the other, and Scrooge at the head. Neither Louie nor June were at the table, still recovering from their injuries, and though they were the only ones absent, the table still felt empty without them.

Towards the end of dinner, Scrooge cleared his throat, directing everyone’s attention to him. “Everyone, listen…” He sighed, a weary expression on his face. “I know there’s enough on our consciences as it is, but… something happened while we were away.”

“The FBI thing.” May spoke up, sullenly mixing her stew with her potato. “Huey told us.”

Scrooge didn’t look surprised. “Aye… and I know the man who accosted him. This ‘Agent Nickel’, he barged into my office the day after we got back from those Phoenician ruins. I didn’t think much of him at the time, but it seems he was more persistent than I thought.”

Huey frowned. “What did he ask you about?”

“About the cloak we nabbed from those two bull-headed gods. Thought it was some kind of weapon.” Scrooge replied, taking another sip of his stew. “Then he made some allusions that he knew about the Other Bin, spat out some half-baked threats, and went on his way.”

“Allusions mean that he knows the Other Bin exists, but he can’t prove it.” Mrs Beakley interjected, her stew half-finished. “We need to ensure that we keep it that way.”

“Why do they even care?” Dewey questioned, his beak half-full of food. “Isn’t the stuff in the Other Bin, like, super dangerous?”

“Ha! That’s exactly why they care!” Della laughed sardonically. Twirling her spoon in the air as she talked, she ranted, “They think we’re sitting on a stockpile of magic superweapons, and they want all that for themselves! It’s all these guys care about!”

“I thought all these particular guys cared about was taking down mob bosses.” Donald remarked confusedly.

“Eh, they all report to the same bigwigs.” Della countered dismissively.

“More importantly, what they want is control.” Scrooge spoke up. “Ever since I first made a name for myself, I’ve had to put up with pretentious politicians and lecherous legislators, all after the same thing! My fortune, my treasures, and in the past thirty years, my land! My ownership of the land Duckburg sits on means that it’s free from the nonsense thrown around by the government, and those gerrymanderers over in Washington know it!”

He slammed his fist into the table, his voice becoming a growl. “This desperate grab at the Other Bin is just their latest attempt to whittle me down! They’ll use it to prop up some- some trumped-up charge against me and from there, they’ll move to rip Duckburg out from under us!”

Daisy put a spoonful of stew into her beak mournfully. “Funny.” She remarked. “You’d think they’d have a bit more gratitude towards the family that saved the world.”

“Bah!” Scrooge leant over his food as he said viciously, “These people don’t know the meanin’ of gratitude!”

Up until this point, Webby had been staring silently down at her bowl of untouched stew, her expression flat and unhappy. At Scrooge’s words, however, she straightened up, and turned to look at him, fierce determination in her eyes. “What do we do?” She asked.

Scrooge leant back, taking a long exhale. “Nothin’. They’re waitin’ for us to give them an excuse to seize the Other Bin. If we don’t do anythin’ reckless, they’ll never get that excuse, and eventually, they’ll have to move on.” He looked at her and added regretfully, “Which means, unfortunately… we’ll have to take a break from adventurin’ for a while.”

The answer wasn’t unexpected for any of them. But Webby still argued, “We can’t just wait for them to give up!”

“This is the federal government we’re up against.” Beakley told her sternly. “These aren’t foes we can fight in a grand climatic battle.”

“Why not? That’s how we defeated FOWL!”

“FOWL didn’t have the entire United States government behind it.” Daisy pointed out. “We have to deal with this the same way we deal with the media – keep our heads down, don’t do anything controversial, and don’t talk about anything they can use against us.”

“Which sucks. We know it sucks.” Della told them. “But it’s temporary.”

Webby didn’t reply. The frustration on her face was palpable.

“…My friends texted me a few hours ago.” Huey said in a quiet voice, prompting everyone to turn to him. “They want to know why I wasn’t at school today.”

“Oh…” Donald murmured sympathetically.

“I haven’t answered them yet.” Huey added. “I don’t really know what to tell them…”

Scrooge looked around at the other adults, and sighed regretfully. “…You can’t tell them what happened in Portugal, lad. Not with this FBI nonsense…”

“Then what do I tell them?” Huey asked desperately. “They’ll know if I lie to them, I-!”

“Just tell them that Louie and June got injured in the last adventure, and we’re just staying with them while they’re recovering.” Daisy told him. “You don’t have to be specific about it. If they press you, just tell them you’re not comfortable talking about it.”

“…Alright.” Huey agreed reluctantly. “It still feels dishonest.”

Dewey looked down at his food, staring into the mixture of meat and potato as he came to a realisation – he hadn’t gone to baseball practice today.

The first practice with Trent Bosman.

He didn’t mention it during dinner, playing it as cool as he could, but once he was back in his room, he grabbed his phone and immediately went to his messages. He wouldn’t have missed this training session for the world, and his friends knew that. His absence alone would have told them something was wrong.

Sure enough, the first message he saw on his phone was from Pete, the team’s best catcher: Hey man, it read. How come you weren’t at school today? You sick?

Dewey hesitated, then began to type out his response.

[calsper]

DWC: Day IV

SURRENDER & TRANQUIL @daily-writing-challenge

Anything you can do on land, you can do on ice. How am I supposed to bring skating back into the world without having first perfected what I teach?

He understood the sentiments Calsper always reminded him about but Tirrak did not understand how something as dangerous as backflips were necessary. Just having to watch his elven roommate attempt them on the ice countless times in a row without surrender made his knees ache and all he was doing was whittling nearby upon a fallen log, the pond Cal favored freezing for his practice only a few yards out. Another drogbar slain meant another bead to carve for the charm on his antler tassel.

“Why don’t you wear joint guards?” the Highmountain tauren hollered out to the sin’dorei when he yet again landed clumsily onto his elbows and knees.

Calsper dusted them off of frosty debris before calling back, “Movement restriction! Bruises are pretty, anyway.” Something Tirrak couldn’t quite make out that followed that contained the accursed ‘almost there’ phrase which meant he’d have to continue sitting tense until the other was satisfied with his efforts. Earth Mother have mercy; the lad was relentless. Every flip risked a broken neck…

Another half hour passed. By the end of it, one damned backflip had finally been both landed and skated out of with enough grace that the weathermancer allowed himself to take a break by gliding back towards land, the ice in his wake rapidly melting behind him. The blade on each sole disappeared with an enchanted shimmer before stepping into the dirt and just like that, it was as though he were never out there on a makeshift rink.

Short black gloves were peeled off in order to have better dexterity when removing the hair tie from his ponytail—the blue-to-white ombre of a layered bob fluttering down once freed. “Joint guards,” he scoffed beside Tirrak.

“I would wear them.”

“You won’t even go out there.” A foot reached over from where he stood to nudge at the Skyhorn’s thigh. “Keep saying you’d—”

“—Fall straight through the ice? Because I would. I’d chip it all up with my hooves and plummet right into it. Don’t care how thick you say you can make it; my kind don’t seem suited to what you do in the slightest.”

Eyes like a robin’s egg cast a stare across the pond with a dismal yet meditative hum. It was one of the most tranquil sights Calsper got to admire day in and day out, his soul never tiring of the way the sunset’s pink hues wavered in the rippling water or of watching geese fly back down to its cold edge for bathing. Seeing a distant group of goslings close behind their new mother left him smiling at how opposite the tiny creatures were from the moose of a man to his left. “Maybe,” he shrugged, chest puffing from the hearty inhale he took of the campfire-laced air. “Wouldn’t know unless you tried. I agree that dancing on blades might be impossible unless a different shape could be figured out, but… you could at least stand on it. Slide around.”

Tirrak side-eyed Calsper with a snort. Seeing as the elf was finished for the time being, he began to put his miniature woodwork away into a belt bag and rise for the short trek back to their tipi. “In an outfit like yours?”

“What is wrong with my clothes?!” Arms spread in exasperation whilst staring down at himself. All he donned in this mountaintop atmosphere was a fitted black tee and thermal leggings of the same dark color—as well as, of course, his boots that the leggings were modified to loop around. But the tauren warrior could not reply.

Both men were startled into wide-eyed silence as a shriek pierced through the distance and in their direction of travel.

Calsper froze, paled so rapidly that his skin prickled with goosebumps, and forgot how to breathe.

Harpies? Harpies! Do they know…? No, that's impossible—count to five. Just five. You can do it, damn it. One.

Two.

They're here for me.

Three...

Not again. Was that his name being called?

...Four . . .

[outcasts-redeemer]

The florescent lights hummed as they came on one row after the next, illuminating the white room with a hard glow. The girls of RWBY and Sun and Neptune cringed as the light momentarily blinded them.

Ruby, after blinking a few times to adjust her eyes, looked around the room spying several cabinets and a large metal door to the side only to stop as her eyes landed on Headmaster Ozpin who standing in front of a table located in the center of the room.

Ozpin gazed at them coolly, his eyes withholding any warmth that the girls were used to. “Do you know where we are?” He asked them, his hands tightening on his cane.

Neptune fidgeted as he answered. “The sign outside said this was the morgue?”

Ozpin glanced at the blue haired young adult and nodded. “Yes.” He said, “This is the Vale City Morgue Station A-12. It was built forty years ago to answer the ongoing logistical issues of dealing with fatalities on newly built trans-city highway. Unlike its older siblings this facility was designed to hold ten times the number of fatalities a normal morgue would hold.” The white haired professor motioned to the room they were in. “This room is one of ten autopsy rooms connected to the main cadaver storage room.”

Ruby swallowed and stepped forward. “Why are we here?”

Ozpin leveled his eyes upon her own silver ones and stepped to the side waving her over in the process. “You are here because I convinced the Council that what happened on the Highway was not your doing.”

Ruby took a step forwards but froze as she saw the small shape hidden under the white cloth

Ozpin noticed her gaze and spoke again, “However, as hunters any choice you make holds the lives of countless others. This is the price of making the wrong choice.” With that statement the white haired headmaster pulled back the white cloth showing the body of a six year old girl, her face a mask of peace that was contrasted by the broken and torn form that was her lower body and legs.

The results were instant. Weiss and Yang both gasped in horror covering their mouths in an attempt to keep from crying out. Blake and Sun paled and took a step back while Neptune turned a shade of green and ran towards the nearest trash bin and threw up the noodles he and Sun had eaten.

The most affect however was Ruby herself. Standing still, her face ashen with understanding and her eyes focused on the immobile form of the young girl, Ruby asked a simple question. “How many?“

Ozpin hated hearing the brokenness of one of his most talented students but this needed to happen. She and the other students needed to know their actions have consequences. “There were one hundred thirty six fatalities as of last count with an additional twenty four injured.”

Yang tore her eyes from the young girl and looked at her headmaster with a look of growing horror. “W-what?”

Ozpin gave her an unimpressed glance before turning back to look at Ruby. “I will be frank with you. What happened tonight should not have happened. Not only did you break regulations, engage in vigilantism, and break restrictions put on you for your previous stunt.  You fundamentally failed as a team on multiple levels. Miss Rose. Tell me. Why are you the Team Leader?”

Ruby swallowed her shame and guilt and answered, “I showed exceptional skill when working under hazardous conditions to both organize and communicate with several other Hunters to both utilize their strengths and limit their weaknesses.”

Ozpin slammed his cane to the ground as he raised his voice. “Then why did you allow members of your team, as well as members not apart of your team to organize this one!?” He reached over to the girls still attached leg and read the tag connected to her toe.”Susan Brianne Grace, age six, cause of death: blood loss due to numerous Crush and Avulsion injuries along the lower extremities and torso.” He stopped reading and gazed at the six of them. “She died shoving her four year old younger brother out of the way of a falling four ton advertisement billboard for Hunters. She loved horses and liked to draw...”

Ruby was silent as tears pooled in her eyes. Everything had happened so fast all she could remember feeling was the rush of the chase and the determination to capture Torchwick. She never even stopped to consider anything else. And because of that. So many...

Ozpin sighed and lifted a stack of clipboards. “This lesson was supposed to be learnt during your second year, before going off on your first unchaperoned mission. But now I have no choice. Each of you will take a clipboard and work alongside the city morticians, recording everything there is about those lost to us due to the failures of their protectors. You will be here all night and in the morning you will report to Miss Goodwitch for aditional disaplinary action.” 

The grey haired headmaster began walking towards the exit but stopped before speaking one last time. “There is nothing you can do now to change their fates. All you can do, is learn from this and strive to be better.” He looked down at his feet lost in thought for a moment before whispering  Fore that is all we can do.” With those final words he shoved open the exit and left them to their new task

[wawa-boonliang]

Flufftober Day 5: X+1

Summary: four times the kids needed help + one time they didn't. A one-shot based on my BNHA fic Never and Always, Eventually.

6.3k words

“I can’t believe you forgot!” Hizashi was yelling. Hitoshi froze. He’d never heard Mic raise his voice like that. He slowly put down the comic book he was reading and looked across the living room to make eye contact with Shouto. Shouto’s eyes were just as wide as his. As the shouting continued, Shouto continued to shrink into himself.

“It wasn’t important to me,” Aizawa snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve had a lot going on, Hizashi.”

Hitoshi didn’t like the way Aizawa said Mic’s name. Hitoshi swallowed around a hard lump in his throat. He didn’t like the tense atmosphere that suddenly clouded the house. He set his comic to the side and eased himself off the couch as silently as possible. Shouto did the same, stepping onto the carpet, using the arms on the armchair as leverage to not make a sound.

Hitoshi had learned the hard way that when adults start yelling, you need to get out of sight. It doesn’t matter if they aren’t mad at you when the yelling starts. If they’re yelling, and they see you, they’ll be angry with you anyway. No matter what you are or aren’t doing, they’ll find something. Then, suddenly they won't be mad at each other anymore. They’ll be mad at you.

But that thought made Hitoshi hesitate. Maybe it would be good for them to be mad at him. If they were yelling at him, they wouldn’t be yelling at each other.

And Hitoshi trusted them. They wouldn’t hit him too hard. He began to creep towards the kitchen.

Shouto’s eyes widened further, realizing what Hitoshi was about to do. He shook his head violently. Hitoshi gave him a thin lipped smile and dipped his head towards the direction of the bedrooms. Shouto closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he flinched at the sound of a cupboard slamming.

“We should be looking for reasons to celebrate, then!” Hizashi cried. “We’ve both been stressed out beyond belief for months. What about the kids?”

“What about the kids, Hizashi.” Aizawa bit out every word like he was gnawing on them.

“What kind of example are we setting?”

“You mean, what kind of example am I setting.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth!”

Shouto clenched his fists and crept towards Hitoshi where he was just out of sight from the kitchen door. They locked eyes. Together? Shouto’s eyes seemed to say.

Hitoshi ignored the way his hands were shaking, and nodded.

Shouto slipped his hand into Hitoshi’s. Shouto’s hands were shaking too.

When Aizawa and Mic noticed them, their heads snapped to the door.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hizashi wanted to throw up.

Shouto and Hitoshi looked terrified. Hitoshi looked close to tears, and Shouto was as pale as a ghost.

They were both trembling with their shoulders squared and jaws set. Like they were about to face some horrible monster.

And they were looking at him.

Hizashi glanced over at Shouta. Shouta didn’t seem to be breathing, all irritation had drained completely out of sight. He hadn’t been thinking about what their “argument” looked like. To them, arguing was like sparring. It was just something they did without really caring who “won” or “lost.” Or, well, it wasn’t like sparring, because there was a point to sparring. There wasn’t really a point to their arguments. Hizashi was just complaining that Shouta had forgotten his birthday for the twenty-second year in a row. Honestly, the streak had probably been going on for even longer, but twenty-two years - come spring - was how long Hizashi had been around to notice. Shouta was annoyed, but no more so than he had been for the years past. Hizashi had already anticipated how the argument would go. Hizashi would nag, Shouta would deflect, then they’d all go out for cake and ice cream.

It was their normal.

He’d forgotten what the kids considered to be normal.

He didn’t know how to fix this. When he took a step forward, wanting to hold them, reassure them–

–Hitoshi flinched.

Actual bile rose in the back of Hizashi’s throat. “Hey, sweetheart,” Hizashi cooed, softening his voice as far as it would go, to the point where it was shaking, just slightly. “Can you believe this guy? Forgetting his own birthday.” He’d meant it as a joke, but Hitoshi tensed further, looking from him to Shouta wordlessly.

Footsteps behind him meant Shouta was approaching slowly. Hizashi felt a warm hand placed on his back, and he wrapped his own arm around Shouta, trying to show them that they weren’t actually mad, they’d just been teasing each other. Shouto seemed to deflate so fast that he swayed a bit. Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at Hizashi.

Hizashi wasn’t sure why that look was leveled at him and not Shouta.

Before he realized he was the one to raise his voice first.

“I didn’t forget,” Shouta drawled. “I just didn’t care.”

Before Hizashi could stop himself he cried out dramatically “That’s worse!” Then he choked, because he’d done it again. And both boys had taken a step back. An action that seemed to be ingrained, instinctive. “Hey,” Hizashi gave up trying to pretend like nothing was wrong, and addressed the kids directly. “Hey, babies, we’re not mad. I swear. I promise. I’m just teasing him, and he’s messing with me right back. We do this every year.”

“Don’t mind him,” Shouta, the traitor, told them. “He’s just being mean to me.”

“You do it, too!” Hizashi spluttered. But then Shouta crooked a grin at him, and he had to roll his eyes. But when he looked back at the kids, Hitoshi had taken a tiny step towards Shouta. Hizashi tried not to wilt.

But he also tried not to take it personally. Legally, Shouta was their guardian…Hizashi was just the loud roommate.

(He just usually tried not to think about that. He loved all three boys like his own. He adored them just as much as he worshiped Shouta. He held all of them so tightly to his heart that it left a permanent mark that he wore proudly.

But then things like this happen and he’ll remember that he’s not actually a part of this family. He just lives there.)

“Well,” Shouta broke the silence. “I suppose we have no choice,” he said as though doing something against his will. “Let's go out to eat tonight. I shouldn’t have to cook on my birthday, and I don’t trust you with the oven anymore.”

“That’s–!” Hizashi almost protested, but then he checked himself. No yelling. No yelling. Not in front of the kids. Not even in fun. “That’s fair.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

One

The two dumbasses were acting weird.

Not the old ones, to be clear. No, his dumbass brothers. They’d gone out to some fancy restaurant for Dadzawa’s birthday, and the weirdest thing his parents did was casting odd looks in Shitstain and Halfy’s direction.

Because they were acting weird.

Halfy, never the most talkative, didn’t say a word all evening. Only nodding when spoken to and staring at them all with the blankest expression Katsuki had ever seen in this lifetime. Shitstain, for his part, seemed to be avoiding Papa Mic.

And he had no idea what had gotten into the two of them.

Especially when Shitstain had hesitated when Papa asked if he wanted to get tucked in. He’d said yes, but there had been a noticeable pause. Katsuki had noted the way Mic seemed to be forcing himself to act like nothing was wrong.

That night, his door creaked open. Katsuki sat up, pushing away the sheets and blankets that Dad and Papa had all but trapped him in. “Dad?”

“No, Kacchan, it’s us.”

Shitstain. “Us?” Katsuki frowned. “The fuck you two want?” The door opened further, revealing both Shitstain and Halfy standing there barefoot in their pajamas.

“Can we talk?” Shitstain asked. Katsuki held back a grimace. Why the fuck did he sound… scared?

“Get the fuck in here before you wake the old people up.”

And then, to Katsuki’s surprise, the two other boys burst into action. Acting like their asses were on fire while still being quiet. They launched themselves onto the bed on either side of him. Katsuki tried not to wince at how cold Halfy’s side was when he attached himself to him. If Katsuki wasn’t so used to fucking Deku, he might have shook him off. As it was, he just leaned back, and patted the vacant side Halfy wasn’t on, looking pointedly at Shitstain who was perched on the edge of the mattress.

Some shuffling later, and all three of them were squished on Katsuki’s not-large-enough-for-this-bullshit bed, side by side under the covers.

Katsuki definitely hated this, and wasn’t at all nostalgic for the sleepovers at the old house.

“The fuck you two monkeys want?”

“Can we be serious for a moment, Kacchan?”

“I’m always fucking serious, Shitstain.”

“Please?”

Katsuki sneered and turned to look at him. Hitoshi was staring directly at him with wet eyes.

He looked like he’d been crying.

Katsuki took him in for a moment, then nodded. “What’s wrong, Hitoshi?”

Hitoshi curled up closer to him. “Has Yamada ever hit Dad?”

Katsuki jolted. “The hell?” He almost sat up, but the weight of two bodies pressing into him held him down. “The fuck would you say that for?” There was silence for a moment. When Hitoshi didn’t answer, Katsuki tried to prompt, “Did something happen?”

“Not really,” came the instant reply.

“That’s a lie,” Katsuki mused. “Shouto, what happened?”

“They were fighting.”

Katsuki turned his head to look at Halfy. Halfy had his eyes closed, looking for all appearances to be falling asleep. Katsuki wedged an arm under Halfy’s neck and drew him in closer. He’d noticed the tension lining Halfy’s spine. At the contact, Shouto started to relax. “What were they fighting about?”

“Dad forgot about his birthday, and Yamada was upset.”

“Papa was upset,” Katsuki corrected. “What gives, Hitoshi?”

“...he sounded really mad.”

“He gets like that.” Hitoshi winds up like a clock spring. “Not like that. He never means it. They were messing with each other. They both think it's funny. If Dad minded, he would have said so, and Papa would have stopped.”

“It isn’t funny,” Hitoshi whispered. “It’s horrible.”

Katsuki rested his head against Hitoshi’s, leaving his arm under Shouto, feeling a bit like he was playing Twister. “Next time, just tell ‘em to knock it off.”

“I don’t want them to yell at me.”

“They wouldn’t.”

“But what if they do?”

“Then I’d kick their asses,” Katsuki snorted. “But they wouldn’t, so I’ll never have to.”

“But what if they do?”

Katsuki clenched his teeth. “They wouldn’t. I promise.” He was silent for a moment. It was clear Hitoshi didn’t believe him. “Listen, dumbass. You’re my shitstain of a little brother, and I’d fucking fight for you, okay? I’d fight god for you.”

“You’d fight god for a candy bar. And you don’t even like chocolate.”

“You bet your ass,” Katsuki retorted. “So why wouldn’t I fight for you?”

“...promise?”

“Swear.”

Hitoshi inched closer, hand fisting in the blankets. Katsuki let himself relax, even though he knew it wasn’t completely over.

“Why did Dad sensei forget?” Shouto broke the silence.

“He didn’t forget. He thinks it’s funny.”

“But what about other dates?”

Katuski was quiet for a moment. “...those, he sometimes does forget. Not on purpose though. And not to be mean.”

“Does… Papa sensei get mad about it?”

Katsuki hesitated, but then admitted “Not mad. Upset, just a little. Not mad though. I don’t think they’ve ever really been mad at each other.”

“We should always remind him then,” Shouto concluded. “Then they won’t yell.”

Katsuki snorted. “Good idea, Thermostat.”

Shouto opened his eyes. “Are you being sarcastic?”

Katsuki sighed. “Yes, but I’m serious, too. Go ahead and do that. I’m sure it’ll help.”

Shouto nodded. “When is their anniversary?”

Katsuki opened his mouth, then he closed it. “I don’t know?” he said. “I mean… he just kind’a showed up one day, and they already seemed like… a thing. I thought it was just best friend shit, but then they started sharing a bed. And Papa calls him ‘babe’ and stuff, and Dad would probably beat anyone else’s ass if they pulled that with him.” He scrunches his nose. “And I’ve walked in on them kissing a few times.”

“Well obviously they’re together now,” Hitoshi drawled. If you only heard him, he’d sound perfectly normal, if not for the way he was curled into Katsuki’s side as tense as a bow string. “So you’re saying they got together before they adopted you?”

“Probably?”

“When do they usually celebrate it?”

Katsuki thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think… I’ve ever seen them do anything for it.” He whispers. “Maybe they don’t care?”

“But Papa cared so much about today.”

Katsuki thought about it. “Midnight would know,” he said after a few minutes. “We’ll ask her. She’s still groveling at the moment, so she’ll tell us if I’m the one to ask.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hitoshi whispered. “Let’s ask her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Nemuri was surprised when her three nephews showed up at her doorstep one morning. She’d been getting ready to go on patrol. She was still on a probationary period, so she was briefly worried about being late. But then she steeled herself. Katsuki didn’t like her. She knew that. If he was here, it was something important.

They’d been getting along better, for sure. But he didn’t like being alone with her. He’d always leave the room as soon as he realized it was just the two of them. And he didn’t speak with her more than he needed to, and sometimes not even that much. Even still, he’d stopped sneering at her. Last time she’d gone to Shouta and Hizashi’s palace for dinner, he’d even given her an acknowledging nod.

“Hey, kiddies,” she smiled, though she was uncomfortably aware of how close she was to being late. “What can ol’ Aunty Nemuri do for you?”

“When is our parent’s anniversary?” Katsuki was the one to address her. Shouto had that wide-eyed gaze that bore into her soul. And Hitoshi was staring at the ground. Nemuri paused for a moment.

Anniversary? Unless they’d been lying about being married, then they didn’t have one. Unless they were talking about the anniversary of when they started dating, but Nemuri knew neither of them were the type of person to make note of a date like that. So, that left the day they met. Well. Officially met. She’d been told the whole sordid story before. Multiple times.

“January fifth,” she said. “Why?”

“Surprise,” Katsuki narrowed his eyes at her. “So don’t tell ‘em we asked.”

Nemuri raised her hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t even thinking about it. Let me know if you want any help.”

“Hold ya to that.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Two

“You guys are being quiet,” Deku noted the next day at school. “Did something happen?”

“Private,” Katsuki told him. “I’ll tell ya later.”

Deku accepted this with a nod and took a seat at his desk. Kaminari looked over at him. “Ooooh is it a secret? Can you tell me, too?”

Katsuki was about to tell him to go fuck himself, but Hitoshi spoke up. “Actually,” he said, surprising Katsuki. “We could use some help.”

Like a magic word was spoken, all of their classmates straightened up and focused on Hitoshi, throwing him a little off balance at the sudden attention.

“Of course, we’ll help,” Yaoyorozu told him with a gentle smile.

“So long as it is within our power!” Iida agreed. Then looked panicked and added “And it is not illegal.”

“Chill out Robo,” Katsuki grunted. “Ain’t that serious.”

“Just need to know if any of you have noticed Dad or Papa gravitating towards any specific dessert.”

“Awwwww,” Hagakure cooed. “Are you guys planning a date night for your parents?”

“Something like that,” Hitoshi allowed.

“We’re preparing for their anniversary,” Shouto added, making several heads swivel towards where he was seated at the back of the classroom. “It’s next month, so we don’t have long to prepare.”

“You have all of Christmas break!” Mina assured him. “That’s plenty of time! And we’ll all help!”

“Wouldn’t Bakubro know, though?” Kirishima asked.

Katsuki shrunk down in his seat. “Those fuckwads will eat anything I make them. They’re too biased.”

There was silence for a moment. “The implications of that are adorable,” Jiro announced. “I approve.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP EARJAX!”

Of course, just then the door opened. “Settle down,” Dad told them all wearily. “You should have been using this time to study.

“Dad sensei!” Kaminari raised his hands. “Can you settle a debate for us?”

Dad looked suspicious. “What debate?”

“Chocolate or vanilla!”

Dad snorted. “Chocolate,” he answered promptly. “Any other dumb questions?”

“Strawberry or cherry!” That one was Mina.

“Cherry.”

“Whipped cream or frosting?” Katsuki and Aizawa made the same confused expression as they looked at Sato, who had a notebook out and was writing something.

“...I honestly don’t care?”

Sato nodded.

“You guys are all idiots,” Jiro told them. “Sensei, they’re trying to figure out what your favorite dessert is, because Kaminari is trying to get you to admit you don’t like sweets.”

“Hey! Don’t throw me under the bus!”

Aizawa sighed. “Coffee cake, if it’s so important to you. But, unfortunately, Kaminari is correct, I don’t like anything being too sweet.” Then he turned around to write out the day’s agenda on the black board.

Behind his back, Jiro tossed Katsuki a wink.

Katsuki scowled at her.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Mic sensei, if you could only have one dessert for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Sherbet!”

“Real subtle, Ears.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Three

They were running out of time. There were only two weeks left of the school year, and then they would all be off for Christmas. Once that happened, the old people would be too deep in their business for there to be any hope of planning for the surprise. For now, though, Dad was busy with grading and Papa was at the radio station, leaving them to go “holiday shopping” with their “friends.”

“Why did you put quotation marks around that?” Kirishima asked Katsuki when he was explaining to the class why he’d summoned them all to the mall. Not everyone could make it, of course, but Shouto was pleased with the number that did come. “Are… are we not actually friends?”

Katsuki squinted at him. “The fuck? I thought we were dating?”

Shouto watched in astonishment as Kirishima’s face turned the same shade as his hair. He hadn’t realized the other boy’s quirk could do that. Interesting. Then he turned to Uraraka who had just arrived with Asui. “Hello,” he greeted them. “We’re looking for decorations for our parent’s anniversary, but according to my brother, we have ‘shit taste’ and he ‘doesn’t want to be solely responsible’ for the ‘shitstorm that’s going to happen.’” Shouto repeated back what Katsuki had told him that morning, and then realized he probably should have done what Katsuki did and made the air bunnies that indicated when he was quoting someone else.

Luckily, Uraraka was very intelligent, and seemed to understand anyway, because she only laughed instead of getting offended. “That sounds like fun!” she squealed. “What’s the budget?”

Shouto frowned, then reached into his pocket to count out the bills he had. Behind him, Hitoshi did the same. “I’ve got like seventy bucks,” Katsuki told them. “And some change.”

“Um, fourty-seven.”

“Two hundred thousand and thirty-four.”

Several pairs of eyes swung around to look at him. Shouto blinked. Oh, he should probably explain himself. “Endeavor never asked for his debit card back.” He told them all. “I’ve been making small withdrawals whenever I feel sad. It usually cheers me up.”

“...have you not been spending any of it?” Kaminari asked, bewildered. Shouto wasn’t entirely sure why he was making the expression that he was.

“What would I spend it on?” he asked the other boy, genuinely curious. “I don’t need to buy myself food, anymore. And Dad gave me a full closet of clothes when we moved to the new house. And in my room, I even have toys. I’ve never had toys before, and I’m not entirely sure how to use the ones I already have, so I shouldn’t get anymore. It would be wasteful.”

“Dude…” Shouto turned to look at Kirishima. Then he took a cautious step back, because the other boy had tears in his eyes. “Can… can I give you a hug?”

Shouto didn’t know why Kirishima was crying. Maybe he really needed a hug. “I like hugs,” Shouto told him, extending his arms and in the next moment receiving an armful of friendship. He liked having friends.

Tokoyami cleared his throat, Shouto looked at him over Kirishima’s head. “The darkness receding often reveals crevices once hidden. It’s not enough that the light has revealed them. One must ensure they are also filled, that one might not fall back in.”

Shouto looked around for the crevices. He was surprised that there were any inside the mall. “Where?” He asked Tokoyami, concerned. He would hate for one of his friends to fall into something. Though, of course, he’d help them out.

Tokoyami faltered. Hitoshi placed a hand on his arm. “Fumi means that you should buy yourself something stupid that you don’t need.”

“Oh,” Shouto released Kirishima who was still crying. He patted the boy on the shoulder. “What should I buy?”

“The first thing that looks interesting!” Sero told him.

“Something that makes you laugh, kero.”

“Something that will make your Dad do this,” Ashido adopted a face like she was having digestive issues and then exhaled very deeply. Shouto had seen Dad make that face before. It was usually directed at Hitoshi or Papa.

“Or something to eat?” Sato suggested. “Something like candy. Even if you don’t need food, it’s nice to have something junky to snack on when you get munchie. Just for fun.”

Shouto nodded. “I like instant soba.”

Katsuki sighed. “Of course you do.”

They went off into the store in one giant herd. Shouto thought they were perhaps being a bit obtrusive, but he liked being a part of the group too much to care overly so. They went into a merchandise store for heroes. Shouto paused as they walked past the Endeavor section. He picked up a figurine. There was a warning on it “Keep out of reach of small children.”

Shouto had a thought that it might be funny, but he wasn’t sure how to connect the thought into a joke.

“Bro?” Sero had stopped next to him. “Um. You okay?”

“I would like to buy this,” he said. Then he looked at the rest of the merchandise. “All of this.”

He got some odd looks. “Why?” Hitoshi asked, baffled.

Shouto looked down at the figure in his hands. “Papa likes smores. And we have a firepit. I thought this would be funnier than getting wood.” Shouto paused, then looked at his friends. “Am I… wrong?”

There were several beats of silence, and Shouto started getting a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach, when suddenly Kaminari started to laugh hysterically. “Bro! That’s the best idea.”

“No!” Uraraka said, eyes wide. “You can’t eat food cooked over plastic!”

“Oh,” Shouto drooped. Then he looked back at the merchandise section. “What about books?” There was a selection of comic books.

Kirishima looked considering. “My grandpa uses old newspaper to start his fires when we go camping,” he offered.

“Could get some shirts, too,” Ashido beamed.

Shouto nodded, feeling better about this idea now that his friends were on board. He grabbed an armful and strode towards the cashier. She looked at him with wide eyes. He realized, suddenly, that she’d probably heard the whole thing.

“My friends don’t think it’s weird,” he frowned at her. She blinked, then slowly started to check out his selection.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

They did end up getting decorations as well. Streamers to hang from the ceiling in black and yellow. Little bumble bees with musical notes trailing behind them to put on the walls. Cat table decor and paperware to eat on. A set of matching coffee cups with a cat wearing headphones. Throw pillows with each of Erasermic’s faces on them. And other assorted “bullshit” (according to Katsuki) that vaguely fit into Dad and Papa Mic’s themes.

(He wasn’t entirely sure about the bees, but he did think they were cute.)

After all was said and done, everyone was carrying at least one bag.

“Where will we store this?” Shouto asked no one in particular.

He was answered by silence.

“Fuck,” Katsuki said emphatically. “Dad cleans my room, so it can’t be there.”

“Why does your Dad clean your room?” Kaminari asked him.

“...he just does?”

“Bro. Why do you literally have the best parents?” he wailed. “My mom just yells at me.”

Shouto’s heart hurt for Kaminari. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told is friend. Kaminari turned towards Shouto with a confused expression on his face, which in turn made Shouto confused.

“Um. It’s okay?” he said, sounding unsure.

“I have room, kero,” Asui told them. “I can keep them in my basement, kero. My siblings are scared of the dark, so they won’t go down there and get into anything.”

“And when it’s time to make the cake,” Sato said. “Come on over to my house. I have the perfect recipe. Not too sweet, but not too bitter either.”

Shouto felt very warm because of the support of his friends. “That sounds perfect,” he told them. “I was concerned about doing all of this, but with your help, I no longer have any reservations.”

He was answered by all of his friends quickly assuring him that he’d always be able to count on them.

But he already knew that.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Four

It was after the final day of classes before Christmas break, and most of the other students had gone home. Hitoshi and his two brothers (he’ll never get over the novelty of being able to say that) were sitting in the teacher’s lounge waiting for Dad to get finished breaking down the classroom and tell them it was time to go. The lounge was empty except for them.

“I looked at the academic calendar,” Shouto was saying. “And we might have an issue.”

“What issue, Halfy?” Kacchan grunted.

“The first day of school is on the fifth.”

Hitoshi swore. “Damn it. And everything else was going so well, too.”

“We could always make them miss it,” Kacchan said, a smirk growing across his face. Shouto looked intrigued.

“How?” he asked.

Katsuki grinned at him, fully feral, all teeth. “A little bit of a broken leg never hurt anyone.”

Shouto got his usual blank expression that meant he was supremely confused. “That is… untrue. That is very much untrue.”

“Spoil sport.”

Hitoshi grinned. “We could get them sick?” he said. “Stand outside in the snow, catch just a little cold, then wipe our snot all over their stuff.”

Katsuki barked a laugh. Shouto looked concerned. “I’d…rather not. That sounds very unhygienic.”

“Well now you’re just stifling our creativity.”

“I may have a solution!”

All three of them jumped in surprise, twisting around on the couch to see what was perched behind them. Standing on the back of the couch behind their heads was the small mouse, bear, hamster thing that was Principal Nedzu.

“We weren’t being serious,” Hitoshi blurted out.

Nedzu chuckled. “Of that, I am perfectly aware. However, I am being completely serious.” Nedzu seemed very pleased with himself. “I’ll simply give them the day off!”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Give two teachers the first day of school… off.”

“Yes!”

“Why not just move the school year one day over?” Hitoshi questioned.

Nedzu looked at him with what was probably meant to be a confused expression, but it wasn’t expressed well on his furry face. “Why would I do that?”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Plus One

Hizashi was feeling refreshed after Christmas. As every year, he’d spent most of the evening of with Tensei and Nemuri, though… rather than having a party, they’d spent the entire day going from jewelry store to jewelry store. He’d planned on asking that very night, but then, when he’d gotten home, he’d found out that Hitoshi had waited up for him.

“You haven’t tucked me in yet,” was his excuse, ears poking out red from his crazy hair. Hizashi’s heart melted, and he couldn’t overshadow this important moment with something else.

It was, after all, the first time Hitoshi had approached him for comfort since… Shouta’s birthday. Hizashi had felt like crying, but he’d only smiled and said “Anything for one of my favorite listeners.”

Hitoshi had gotten an impish smile on his face that Hizashi had desperately missed seeing. “Which favorite? Your most favorite? Your second favorite?”

Hizashi had pulled him into a tight hug and pressed a firm kiss to the side of his head. “I love all of you so much, I don’t think any number would do it justice.”

There was a moment of silence as Hizashi just held his kid. Then “That sounds like an excuse to me.”

Hizashi barked a laugh. “You’re so Shouta’s child.” Hitoshi had beamed at him, and then allowed himself to be led to bed.

Now, it’s the week before the first day of the second semester during his babies’ first year at UA and he still hasn’t popped the question. And, well, he can’t help but feel like the moment has passed. They’re all about to be really busy, and it’s only right that this next week is about the boys. Hizashi really wanted to plan something special to mark the occasion, you only have first days back to school so many times, but when he tries to call Nedzu to ask permission to throw a party for the second year hero department, Nedzu cheerfully informs him that of course he can, but not on the first day. He has that day off.

“What?” Hizashi asked, confused. “But…but I have classes?”

“No you don’t!” said the principal, cheerfully. “The first day of classes will be eaten up by orientation, I’m afraid.”

“Orientation? For the second semester? For every grade?”

“That’s correct!”

Hizashi took the phone away from his ear just to look at the screen for a second and double check he’d called the correct rodent. “Um. Why?”

“Because those are the rules!”

Hizashi blinked. “They aren’t though?”

“They are now! And I’ve much to prepare! See you and Shouta on the sixth!” Click.

Hizashi stared into the void. “What just happened?” he asked outloud.

“Hizashi?” Hizashi turned to see Shouta emerging from his study, hair tied back in a bun in the way that made Hizashi swoon internally. And externally. Shouta rolled his eyes at Hizashi’s dramatics, then gestured to the phone. “Was that the principal? What did he say?”

“That… I have the fifth off?” He said, uncertain even though he’d just gotten off the phone. “And… I think he implied that you did, too?”

Aizawa frowns. “He said something like that to me yesterday, but I thought he was just being… foreboding. I didn’t think he meant it literally.” He frowned deeper. “I think it might be Tensei’s fault.”

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “And, you think that, why?”

“He keeps saying he’s too busy to hang out. And also Nemuri keeps winking at me.”

Hizashi hummed. “Yagi has been weird too, come to think of it. I passed him in the street yesterday. He’d flat out run in the opposite direction. You think they’re up to something?”

“Or they’re hiding something from us.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hizashi wakes up in bed with Shouta on what should have been the first day of school. Since, however, it is apparently not the first day of school, he just allowed himself to luxuriate in the knowledge that he managed to sneak his way into the bed of the prettiest man alive.

Take that, fifteen-year-old Hizashi!

Hizashi ran his fingers through Shouta’s hair. Shouta was laying with his head on Hizashi’s chest, as had become his habit since the incident at USJ. Hizashi was happy to just watch him sleep for a few minutes, when his fingers brushed against something soft that wasn’t hair. Hizashi frowned at brought it closer to his face, being near-sighted without his glasses on.

A petal. A black rose petal. Hizashi fumbles for the side table, trying not to wake up Shouta, and grabs his glasses. Sliding them onto his face, he gently lowers Shouta onto the mattress. But, it’s no use. As soon as he did so, Shouta groaned loudly and whacked him with a pillow.

Sending a flurry of black and yellow petals flying into the air.

“What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” answered Hizashi. “But look.”

There were black and yellow petals scattered everywhere. Across their bed. On the floor. On their dresser. There were whole flowers as well sitting in what looked like a hand-made vase with Hizashi and Shouta’s faces clumsily painted on the clay. There were streamers covered in bees hanging from the ceiling, and the pillow he’d been whacked with had his own face on it, made from sequins.

“What the fuck?” asked Shouta again, fully sitting up. “What happened.”

The door to their bedroom opened. In walked all three boys, dressed in their UA uniforms. Kacchan was holding a tray of… what he assumed to be “breakfast.” That is, if breakfast was made solely from coffee, an entire mountain of bacon, a single beautifully arranged bowl of sherbert with toppings, and an entire coffee cake. Shouto was holding a handmade card the size of their TV. Hitoshi, for his part, was holding more flowers. These ones, however, were an eclectic mix of colors inexpertly arranged. Hitoshi noticed him looking.

“Picked fresh this morning!” he said proudly. Ah that explained it. “From Endeavor’s garden.” That raised more questions that Hizashi was happy to let go unexplained.

Kacchan proudly placed the tray of “breakfast” across their laps and looked at them expectantly. “Um.” Hizashi cautiously picked up a piece of bacon as Shouta grabbed a mug of coffee (which had a cute cat on it) and downed it like a shot of tequila.

Shouto handed Hizashi the card, which he had to drop the bacon to accept. It was adorable, with hearts and music notes and cats drawn all over it… and glitter practically pouring off of it. That was going to be fun to clean. “Awww,” Hizashi tried to cover his wince. “It’s so pretty.”

“Open it,” Shouto urged. Hizashi obliged, and saw that it had been signed by all of class 1A. And 1B. And every teacher at UA. And the principal. And Mrs. Midoriya. And also Tensei and Nemuri. What the fuck? What was going on?

“Ok bye,” said Kacchan, and all three of them started shuffling out.

“Wha- where are you going?”

Kacchan looked at him like he thought he was stupid. Which. Ouch. “School? It starts in an hour? We have orientation, fuckwad.”

Oh. Right. “Um. Have fun?” The three boys gave him a solemn nod, and then marched out. Hizashi stayed frozen in bed until he heard the front door slam shut, announcing that the three of them had left.

“That just happened,” Hizashi sighed. Shouta grunted, then slid out of bed clutching his mug, ignoring the mounds of random foodstuff they’d been handed.

“I need more coffee.” Was all Shouta had to say.

But then they emerged into the living room, where there were even more flowers. Just. Everywhere.

And a handmade banner with little handprints all over it, as well as Yaoyorozu’s distinctive and beautiful handwriting spelling out “Happy Twenty-Two Years.”

“...did I forget our anniversary?”

“We aren’t married. We don’t have an anniversary.”

Hizashi blinks. A smile started spreading across his face. Well. He’d been waiting for the right moment. Hizashi can take a sign. “ Hold that thought.”

He returns holding something behind his back. Then he drops to one knee, looking up at Shouta’s very unimpressed face as he sipped his third cup of coffee. “So, apparently it’s been twenty-two years,” he laughed nervously. “And I’ve spent each one desperately in love with you. I let myself be a coward for twenty of them, and I won’t hold myself back anymore. That said,” He held out the box with bated breath and opened the top. In it was a pair of rings that he’d been holding onto since Christmas. “I’d like to marry you, Shouta. I have for a while. Since we were kids, actually.”

Aizawa stares at him for a long moment. Downs the last of his coffee. Plucks one of the rings out of the box, then walks back to the bedroom. “I’m going back to bed. If I find out it was you who planned this, we’re getting a divorce.”

Hizashi blinked into the empty room.

“...WAS THAT A YES???”

[waspsinyouryard]

Pa had sent me out to get an extra pail of air. I'd just about scooped it full and most of the warmth had leaked from my fingers when I saw the thing.

You know, at first I thought it was a young lady. Yes, a beautiful young lady's face all glowing in the dark and looking at me from the fifth floor of the opposite apartment, which hereabouts is the floor just above the white blanket of frozen air. I'd never seen a live young lady before, except in the old magazines—Sis is just a kid and Ma is pretty sick and miserable—and it gave me such a start that I dropped the pail. Who wouldn't, knowing everyone on Earth was dead except Pa and Ma and Sis and you?



Even at that, I don't suppose I should have been surprised. We all see things now and then. Ma has some pretty bad ones, to judge from the way she bugs her eyes at nothing and just screams and screams and huddles back against the blankets hanging around the Nest. Pa says it is natural we should react like that sometimes.

When I'd recovered the pail and could look again at the opposite apartment, I got an idea of what Ma might be feeling at those times, for I saw it wasn't a young lady at all but simply a light—a tiny light that moved stealthily from window to window, just as if one of the cruel little stars had come down out of the airless sky to investigate why the Earth had gone away from the Sun, and maybe to hunt down something to torment or terrify, now that the Earth didn't have the Sun's protection.

I tell you, the thought of it gave me the creeps. I just stood there shaking, and almost froze my feet and did frost my helmet so solid on the inside that I couldn't have seen the light even if it had come out of one of the windows to get me. Then I had the wit to go back inside.

Pretty soon I was feeling my familiar way through the thirty or so blankets and rugs Pa has got hung around to slow down the escape of air from the Nest, and I wasn't quite so scared. I began to hear the tick-ticking of the clocks in the Nest and knew I was getting back into air, because there's no sound outside in the vacuum, of course. But my mind was still crawly and uneasy as I pushed through the last blankets—Pa's got them faced with aluminum foil to hold in the heat—and came into the Nest.

Let me tell you about the Nest. It's low and snug, just room for the four of us and our things. The floor is covered with thick woolly rugs. Three of the sides are blankets, and the blankets roofing it touch Pa's head. He tells me it's inside a much bigger room, but I've never seen the real walls or ceiling.

Against one of the blanket-walls is a big set of shelves, with tools and books and other stuff, and on top of it a whole row of clocks. Pa's very fussy about keeping them wound. He says we must never forget time, and without a sun or moon, that would be easy to do.

The fourth wall has blankets all over except around the fireplace, in which there is a fire that must never go out. It keeps us from freezing and does a lot more besides. One of us must always watch it. Some of the clocks are alarm and we can use them to remind us. In the early days there was only Ma to take turns with Pa—I think of that when she gets difficult—but now there's me to help, and Sis too.

It's Pa who is the chief guardian of the fire, though. I always think of him that way: a tall man sitting cross-legged, frowning anxiously at the fire, his lined face golden in its light, and every so often carefully placing on it a piece of coal from the big heap beside it. Pa tells me there used to be guardians of the fire sometimes in the very old days—vestal virgins, he calls them—although there was unfrozen air all around then and you didn't really need one.

He was sitting just that way now, though he got up quick to take the pail from me and bawl me out for loitering—he'd spotted my frozen helmet right off. That roused Ma and she joined in picking on me. She's always trying to get the load off her feelings, Pa explains. He shut her up pretty fast. Sis let off a couple of silly squeals too.

Pa handled the pail of air in a twist of cloth. Now that it was inside the Nest, you could really feel its coldness. It just seemed to suck the heat out of everything. Even the flames cringed away from it as Pa put it down close by the fire.

Yet it's that glimmery white stuff in the pail that keeps us alive. It slowly melts and vanishes and refreshes the Nest and feeds the fire. The blankets keep it from escaping too fast. Pa'd like to seal the whole place, but he can't—building's too earthquake-twisted, and besides he has to leave the chimney open for smoke.

Pa says air is tiny molecules that fly away like a flash if there isn't something to stop them. We have to watch sharp not to let the air run low. Pa always keeps a big reserve supply of it in buckets behind the first blankets, along with extra coal and cans of food and other things, such as pails of snow to melt for water. We have to go way down to the bottom floor for that stuff, which is a mean trip, and get it through a door to outside.

You see, when the Earth got cold, all the water in the air froze first and made a blanket ten feet thick or so everywhere, and then down on top of that dropped the crystals of frozen air, making another white blanket sixty or seventy feet thick maybe.

Of course, all the parts of the air didn't freeze and snow down at the same time.

First to drop out was the carbon dioxide—when you're shoveling for water, you have to make sure you don't go too high and get any of that stuff mixed in, for it would put you to sleep, maybe for good, and make the fire go out. Next there's the nitrogen, which doesn't count one way or the other, though it's the biggest part of the blanket. On top of that and easy to get at, which is lucky for us, there's the oxygen that keeps us alive. Pa says we live better than kings ever did, breathing pure oxygen, but we're used to it and don't notice. Finally, at the very top, there's a slick of liquid helium, which is funny stuff. All of these gases in neat separate layers. Like a pussy caffay, Pa laughingly says, whatever that is.

I was busting to tell them all about what I'd seen, and so as soon as I'd ducked out of my helmet and while I was still climbing out of my suit, I cut loose. Right away Ma got nervous and began making eyes at the entry-slit in the blankets and wringing her hands together—the hand where she'd lost three fingers from frostbite inside the good one, as usual. I could tell that Pa was annoyed at me scaring her and wanted to explain it all away quickly, yet could see I wasn't fooling.

"And you watched this light for some time, son?" he asked when I finished.

I hadn't said anything about first thinking it was a young lady's face. Somehow that part embarrassed me.

"Long enough for it to pass five windows and go to the next floor."

"And it didn't look like stray electricity or crawling liquid or starlight focused by a growing crystal, or anything like that?"

He wasn't just making up those ideas. Odd things happen in a world that's about as cold as can be, and just when you think matter would be frozen dead, it takes on a strange new life. A slimy stuff comes crawling toward the Nest, just like an animal snuffing for heat—that's the liquid helium. And once, when I was little, a bolt of lightning—not even Pa could figure where it came from—hit the nearby steeple and crawled up and down it for weeks, until the glow finally died.

"Not like anything I ever saw," I told him.

He stood for a moment frowning. Then, "I'll go out with you, and you show it to me," he said.

Ma raised a howl at the idea of being left alone, and Sis joined in, too, but Pa quieted them. We started climbing into our outside clothes—mine had been warming by the fire. Pa made them. They have plastic headpieces that were once big double-duty transparent food cans, but they keep heat and air in and can replace the air for a little while, long enough for our trips for water and coal and food and so on.

Ma started moaning again, "I've always known there was something outside there, waiting to get us. I've felt it for years—something that's part of the cold and hates all warmth and wants to destroy the Nest. It's been watching us all this time, and now it's coming after us. It'll get you and then come for me. Don't go, Harry!"

Pa had everything on but his helmet. He knelt by the fireplace and reached in and shook the long metal rod that goes up the chimney and knocks off the ice that keeps trying to clog it. Once a week he goes up on the roof to check if it's working all right. That's our worst trip and Pa won't let me make it alone.

"Sis," Pa said quietly, "come watch the fire. Keep an eye on the air, too. If it gets low or doesn't seem to be boiling fast enough, fetch another bucket from behind the blanket. But mind your hands. Use the cloth to pick up the bucket."

Sis quit helping Ma be frightened and came over and did as she was told. Ma quieted down pretty suddenly, though her eyes were still kind of wild as she watched Pa fix on his helmet tight and pick up a pail and the two of us go out.

Pa led the way and I took hold of his belt. It's a funny thing, I'm not afraid to go by myself, but when Pa's along I always want to hold on to him. Habit, I guess, and then there's no denying that this time I was a bit scared.

You see, it's this way. We know that everything is dead out there. Pa heard the last radio voices fade away years ago, and had seen some of the last folks die who weren't as lucky or well-protected as us. So we knew that if there was something groping around out there, it couldn't be anything human or friendly.

Besides that, there's a feeling that comes with it always being night, cold night. Pa says there used to be some of that feeling even in the old days, but then every morning the Sun would come and chase it away. I have to take his word for that, not ever remembering the Sun as being anything more than a big star. You see, I hadn't been born when the dark star snatched us away from the Sun, and by now it's dragged us out beyond the orbit of the planet Pluto, Pa says, and taking us farther out all the time.

I found myself wondering whether there mightn't be something on the dark star that wanted us, and if that was why it had captured the Earth. Just then we came to the end of the corridor and I followed Pa out on the balcony.

I don't know what the city looked like in the old days, but now it's beautiful. The starlight lets you see it pretty well—there's quite a bit of light in those steady points speckling the blackness above. (Pa says the stars used to twinkle once, but that was because there was air.) We are on a hill and the shimmery plain drops away from us and then flattens out, cut up into neat squares by the troughs that used to be streets. I sometimes make my mashed potatoes look like it, before I pour on the gravy.

Some taller buildings push up out of the feathery plain, topped by rounded caps of air crystals, like the fur hood Ma wears, only whiter. On those buildings you can see the darker squares of windows, underlined by white dashes of air crystals. Some of them are on a slant, for many of the buildings are pretty badly twisted by the quakes and all the rest that happened when the dark star captured the Earth.

Here and there a few icicles hang, water icicles from the first days of the cold, other icicles of frozen air that melted on the roofs and dripped and froze again. Sometimes one of those icicles will catch the light of a star and send it to you so brightly you think the star has swooped into the city. That was one of the things Pa had been thinking of when I told him about the light, but I had thought of it myself first and known it wasn't so.

He touched his helmet to mine so we could talk easier and he asked me to point out the windows to him. But there wasn't any light moving around inside them now, or anywhere else. To my surprise, Pa didn't bawl me out and tell me I'd been seeing things. He looked all around quite a while after filling his pail, and just as we were going inside he whipped around without warning, as if to take some peeping thing off guard.

I could feel it, too. The old peace was gone. There was something lurking out there, watching, waiting, getting ready.

Inside, he said to me, touching helmets, "If you see something like that again, son, don't tell the others. Your Ma's sort of nervous these days and we owe her all the feeling of safety we can give her. Once—it was when your sister was born—I was ready to give up and die, but your Mother kept me trying. Another time she kept the fire going a whole week all by herself when I was sick. Nursed me and took care of the two of you, too."

"You know that game we sometimes play, sitting in a square in the Nest, tossing a ball around? Courage is like a ball, son. A person can hold it only so long, and then he's got to toss it to someone else. When it's tossed your way, you've got to catch it and hold it tight—and hope there'll be someone else to toss it to when you get tired of being brave."

His talking to me that way made me feel grown-up and good. But it didn't wipe away the thing outside from the back of my mind—or the fact that Pa took it seriously.

It's hard to hide your feelings about such a thing. When we got back in the Nest and took off our outside clothes, Pa laughed about it all and told them it was nothing and kidded me for having such an imagination, but his words fell flat. He didn't convince Ma and Sis any more than he did me. It looked for a minute like we were all fumbling the courage-ball. Something had to be done, and almost before I knew what I was going to say, I heard myself asking Pa to tell us about the old days, and how it all happened.

He sometimes doesn't mind telling that story, and Sis and I sure like to listen to it, and he got my idea. So we were all settled around the fire in a wink, and Ma pushed up some cans to thaw for supper, and Pa began. Before he did, though, I noticed him casually get a hammer from the shelf and lay it down beside him.

It was the same old story as always—I think I could recite the main thread of it in my sleep—though Pa always puts in a new detail or two and keeps improving it in spots.

He told us how the Earth had been swinging around the Sun ever so steady and warm, and the people on it fixing to make money and wars and have a good time and get power and treat each other right or wrong, when without warning there comes charging out of space this dead star, this burned out sun, and upsets everything.

You know, I find it hard to believe in the way those people felt, any more than I can believe in the swarming number of them. Imagine people getting ready for the horrible sort of war they were cooking up. Wanting it even, or at least wishing it were over so as to end their nervousness. As if all folks didn't have to hang together and pool every bit of warmth just to keep alive. And how can they have hoped to end danger, any more than we can hope to end the cold?

Sometimes I think Pa exaggerates and makes things out too black. He's cross with us once in a while and was probably cross with all those folks. Still, some of the things I read in the old magazines sound pretty wild. He may be right.

The dark star, as Pa went on telling it, rushed in pretty fast and there wasn't much time to get ready. At the beginning they tried to keep it a secret from most people, but then the truth came out, what with the earthquakes and floods—imagine, oceans of unfrozen water!—and people seeing stars blotted out by something on a clear night. First off they thought it would hit the Sun, and then they thought it would hit the Earth. There was even the start of a rush to get to a place called China, because people thought the star would hit on the other side. But then they found it wasn't going to hit either side, but was going to come very close to the Earth.

Most of the other planets were on the other side of the Sun and didn't get involved. The Sun and the newcomer fought over the Earth for a little while—pulling it this way and that, like two dogs growling over a bone, Pa described it this time—and then the newcomer won and carried us off. The Sun got a consolation prize, though. At the last minute he managed to hold on to the Moon.

That was the time of the monster earthquakes and floods, twenty times worse than anything before. It was also the time of the Big Jerk, as Pa calls it, when all Earth got yanked suddenly, just as Pa has done to me once or twice, grabbing me by the collar to do it, when I've been sitting too far from the fire.



You see, the dark star was going through space faster than the Sun, and in the opposite direction, and it had to wrench the world considerably in order to take it away.

The Big Jerk didn't last long. It was over as soon as the Earth was settled down in its new orbit around the dark star. But it was pretty terrible while it lasted. Pa says that all sorts of cliffs and buildings toppled, oceans slopped over, swamps and sandy deserts gave great sliding surges that buried nearby lands. Earth was almost jerked out of its atmosphere blanket and the air got so thin in spots that people keeled over and fainted—though of course, at the same time, they were getting knocked down by the Big Jerk and maybe their bones broke or skulls cracked.

We've often asked Pa how people acted during that time, whether they were scared or brave or crazy or stunned, or all four, but he's sort of leery of the subject, and he was again tonight. He says he was mostly too busy to notice.

You see, Pa and some scientist friends of his had figured out part of what was going to happen—they'd known we'd get captured and our air would freeze—and they'd been working like mad to fix up a place with airtight walls and doors, and insulation against the cold, and big supplies of food and fuel and water and bottled air. But the place got smashed in the last earthquakes and all Pa's friends were killed then and in the Big Jerk. So he had to start over and throw the Nest together quick without any advantages, just using any stuff he could lay his hands on.

I guess he's telling pretty much the truth when he says he didn't have any time to keep an eye on how other folks behaved, either then or in the Big Freeze that followed—followed very quick, you know, both because the dark star was pulling us away very fast and because Earth's rotation had been slowed in the tug-of-war, so that the nights were ten old nights long.

Still, I've got an idea of some of the things that happened from the frozen folk I've seen, a few of them in other rooms in our building, others clustered around the furnaces in the basements where we go for coal.

In one of the rooms, an old man sits stiff in a chair, with an arm and a leg in splints. In another, a man and woman are huddled together in a bed with heaps of covers over them. You can just see their heads peeking out, close together. And in another a beautiful young lady is sitting with a pile of wraps huddled around her, looking hopefully toward the door, as if waiting for someone who never came back with warmth and food. They're all still and stiff as statues, of course, but just like life.

Pa showed them to me once in quick winks of his flashlight, when he still had a fair supply of batteries and could afford to waste a little light. They scared me pretty bad and made my heart pound, especially the young lady.

Now, with Pa telling his story for the umpteenth time to take our minds off another scare, I got to thinking of the frozen folk again. All of a sudden I got an idea that scared me worse than anything yet. You see, I'd just remembered the face I'd thought I'd seen in the window. I'd forgotten about that on account of trying to hide it from the others.

What, I asked myself, if the frozen folk were coming to life? What if they were like the liquid helium that got a new lease on life and started crawling toward the heat just when you thought its molecules ought to freeze solid forever? Or like the electricity that moves endlessly when it's just about as cold as that? What if the ever-growing cold, with the temperature creeping down the last few degrees to the last zero, had mysteriously wakened the frozen folk to life—not warm-blooded life, but something icy and horrible?

That was a worse idea than the one about something coming down from the dark star to get us.

Or maybe, I thought, both ideas might be true. Something coming down from the dark star and making the frozen folk move, using them to do its work. That would fit with both things I'd seen—the beautiful young lady and the moving, starlike light.

The frozen folk with minds from the dark star behind their unwinking eyes, creeping, crawling, snuffing their way, following the heat to the Nest.

I tell you, that thought gave me a very bad turn and I wanted very badly to tell the others my fears, but I remembered what Pa had said and clenched my teeth and didn't speak.

We were all sitting very still. Even the fire was burning silently. There was just the sound of Pa's voice and the clocks.

And then, from beyond the blankets, I thought I heard a tiny noise. My skin tightened all over me.

Pa was telling about the early years in the Nest and had come to the place where he philosophizes.

"So I asked myself then," he said, "what's the use of going on? What's the use of dragging it out for a few years? Why prolong a doomed existence of hard work and cold and loneliness? The human race is done. The Earth is done. Why not give up, I asked myself—and all of a sudden I got the answer."

Again I heard the noise, louder this time, a kind of uncertain, shuffling tread, coming closer. I couldn't breathe.

"Life's always been a business of working hard and fighting the cold," Pa was saying. "The earth's always been a lonely place, millions of miles from the next planet. And no matter how long the human race might have lived, the end would have come some night. Those things don't matter. What matters is that life is good. It has a lovely texture, like some rich cloth or fur, or the petals of flowers—you've seen pictures of those, but I can't describe how they feel—or the fire's glow. It makes everything else worth while. And that's as true for the last man as the first."

And still the steps kept shuffling closer. It seemed to me that the inmost blanket trembled and bulged a little. Just as if they were burned into my imagination, I kept seeing those peering, frozen eyes.

"So right then and there," Pa went on, and now I could tell that he heard the steps, too, and was talking loud so we maybe wouldn't hear them, "right then and there I told myself that I was going on as if we had all eternity ahead of us. I'd have children and teach them all I could. I'd get them to read books. I'd plan for the future, try to enlarge and seal the Nest. I'd do what I could to keep everything beautiful and growing. I'd keep alive my feeling of wonder even at the cold and the dark and the distant stars."

But then the blanket actually did move and lift. And there was a bright light somewhere behind it. Pa's voice stopped and his eyes turned to the widening slit and his hand went out until it touched and gripped the handle of the hammer beside him.

In through the blanket stepped the beautiful young lady. She stood there looking at us the strangest way, and she carried something bright and unwinking in her hand. And two other faces peered over her shoulders—men's faces, white and staring.

Well, my heart couldn't have been stopped for more than four or five beats before I realized she was wearing a suit and helmet like Pa's homemade ones, only fancier, and that the men were, too—and that the frozen folk certainly wouldn't be wearing those. Also, I noticed that the bright thing in her hand was just a kind of flashlight.

The silence kept on while I swallowed hard a couple of times, and after that there was all sorts of jabbering and commotion.

They were simply people, you see. We hadn't been the only ones to survive; we'd just thought so, for natural enough reasons. These three people had survived, and quite a few others with them. And when we found out how they'd survived, Pa let out the biggest whoop of joy.

They were from Los Alamos and they were getting their heat and power from atomic energy. Just using the uranium and plutonium intended for bombs, they had enough to go on for thousands of years. They had a regular little airtight city, with air-locks and all. They even generated electric light and grew plants and animals by it. (At this Pa let out a second whoop, waking Ma from her faint.)

But if we were flabbergasted at them, they were double-flabbergasted at us.

One of the men kept saying, "But it's impossible, I tell you. You can't maintain an air supply without hermetic sealing. It's simply impossible."

That was after he had got his helmet off and was using our air. Meanwhile, the young lady kept looking around at us as if we were saints, and telling us we'd done something amazing, and suddenly she broke down and cried.

They'd been scouting around for survivors, but they never expected to find any in a place like this. They had rocket ships at Los Alamos and plenty of chemical fuel. As for liquid oxygen, all you had to do was go out and shovel the air blanket at the top level. So after they'd got things going smoothly at Los Alamos, which had taken years, they'd decided to make some trips to likely places where there might be other survivors. No good trying long-distance radio signals, of course, since there was no atmosphere to carry them around the curve of the Earth.

Well, they'd found other colonies at Argonne and Brookhaven and way around the world at Harwell and Tanna Tuva. And now they'd been giving our city a look, not really expecting to find anything. But they had an instrument that noticed the faintest heat waves and it had told them there was something warm down here, so they'd landed to investigate. Of course we hadn't heard them land, since there was no air to carry the sound, and they'd had to investigate around quite a while before finding us. Their instruments had given them a wrong steer and they'd wasted some time in the building across the street.

By now, all five adults were talking like sixty. Pa was demonstrating to the men how he worked the fire and got rid of the ice in the chimney and all that. Ma had perked up wonderfully and was showing the young lady her cooking and sewing stuff, and even asking about how the women dressed at Los Alamos. The strangers marveled at everything and praised it to the skies. I could tell from the way they wrinkled their noses that they found the Nest a bit smelly, but they never mentioned that at all and just asked bushels of questions.

In fact, there was so much talking and excitement that Pa forgot about things, and it wasn't until they were all getting groggy that he looked and found the air had all boiled away in the pail. He got another bucket of air quick from behind the blankets. Of course that started them all laughing and jabbering again. The newcomers even got a little drunk. They weren't used to so much oxygen.

Funny thing, though—I didn't do much talking at all and Sis hung on to Ma all the time and hid her face when anybody looked at her. I felt pretty uncomfortable and disturbed myself, even about the young lady. Glimpsing her outside there, I'd had all sorts of mushy thoughts, but now I was just embarrassed and scared of her, even though she tried to be nice as anything to me.

I sort of wished they'd all quit crowding the Nest and let us be alone and get our feelings straightened out.

And when the newcomers began to talk about our all going to Los Alamos, as if that were taken for granted, I could see that something of the same feeling struck Pa and Ma, too. Pa got very silent all of a sudden and Ma kept telling the young lady, "But I wouldn't know how to act there and I haven't any clothes."

The strangers were puzzled like anything at first, but then they got the idea. As Pa kept saying, "It just doesn't seem right to let this fire go out."

Well, the strangers are gone, but they're coming back. It hasn't been decided yet just what will happen. Maybe the Nest will be kept up as what one of the strangers called a "survival school." Or maybe we will join the pioneers who are going to try to establish a new colony at the uranium mines at Great Slave Lake or in the Congo.

Of course, now that the strangers are gone, I've been thinking a lot about Los Alamos and those other tremendous colonies. I have a hankering to see them for myself.

You ask me, Pa wants to see them, too. He's been getting pretty thoughtful, watching Ma and Sis perk up.

"It's different, now that we know others are alive," he explains to me. "Your mother doesn't feel so hopeless any more. Neither do I, for that matter, not having to carry the whole responsibility for keeping the human race going, so to speak. It scares a person."

I looked around at the blanket walls and the fire and the pails of air boiling away and Ma and Sis sleeping in the warmth and the flickering light.

"It's not going to be easy to leave the Nest," I said, wanting to cry, kind of. "It's so small and there's just the four of us. I get scared at the idea of big places and a lot of strangers."

He nodded and put another piece of coal on the fire. Then he looked at the little pile and grinned suddenly and put a couple of handfuls on, just as if it was one of our birthdays or Christmas.

"You'll quickly get over that feeling son," he said. "The trouble with the world was that it kept getting smaller and smaller, till it ended with just the Nest. Now it'll be good to have a real huge world again, the way it was in the beginning."

I guess he's right. You think the beautiful young lady will wait for me till I grow up? I'll be twenty in only ten years.

I wondered who submitted the first couple of paragraphs of the Library of Babel story as propaganda in a submission for @gimmick-blog-bracket but now I think I know the culprit

[wikipedia-the-non-official]

Pa had sent me out to get an extra pail of air. I'd just about scooped it full and most of the warmth had leaked from my fingers when I saw the thing.

You know, at first I thought it was a young lady. Yes, a beautiful young lady's face all glowing in the dark and looking at me from the fifth floor of the opposite apartment, which hereabouts is the floor just above the white blanket of frozen air. I'd never seen a live young lady before, except in the old magazines—Sis is just a kid and Ma is pretty sick and miserable—and it gave me such a start that I dropped the pail. Who wouldn't, knowing everyone on Earth was dead except Pa and Ma and Sis and you?

Even at that, I don't suppose I should have been surprised. We all see things now and then. Ma has some pretty bad ones, to judge from the way she bugs her eyes at nothing and just screams and screams and huddles back against the blankets hanging around the Nest. Pa says it is natural we should react like that sometimes.

When I'd recovered the pail and could look again at the opposite apartment, I got an idea of what Ma might be feeling at those times, for I saw it wasn't a young lady at all but simply a light—a tiny light that moved stealthily from window to window, just as if one of the cruel little stars had come down out of the airless sky to investigate why the Earth had gone away from the Sun, and maybe to hunt down something to torment or terrify, now that the Earth didn't have the Sun's protection.

I tell you, the thought of it gave me the creeps. I just stood there shaking, and almost froze my feet and did frost my helmet so solid on the inside that I couldn't have seen the light even if it had come out of one of the windows to get me. Then I had the wit to go back inside.

Pretty soon I was feeling my familiar way through the thirty or so blankets and rugs Pa has got hung around to slow down the escape of air from the Nest, and I wasn't quite so scared. I began to hear the tick-ticking of the clocks in the Nest and knew I was getting back into air, because there's no sound outside in the vacuum, of course. But my mind was still crawly and uneasy as I pushed through the last blankets—Pa's got them faced with aluminum foil to hold in the heat—and came into the Nest.

Let me tell you about the Nest. It's low and snug, just room for the four of us and our things. The floor is covered with thick woolly rugs. Three of the sides are blankets, and the blankets roofing it touch Pa's head. He tells me it's inside a much bigger room, but I've never seen the real walls or ceiling.

Against one of the blanket-walls is a big set of shelves, with tools and books and other stuff, and on top of it a whole row of clocks. Pa's very fussy about keeping them wound. He says we must never forget time, and without a sun or moon, that would be easy to do.

The fourth wall has blankets all over except around the fireplace, in which there is a fire that must never go out. It keeps us from freezing and does a lot more besides. One of us must always watch it. Some of the clocks are alarm and we can use them to remind us. In the early days there was only Ma to take turns with Pa—I think of that when she gets difficult—but now there's me to help, and Sis too.

It's Pa who is the chief guardian of the fire, though. I always think of him that way: a tall man sitting cross-legged, frowning anxiously at the fire, his lined face golden in its light, and every so often carefully placing on it a piece of coal from the big heap beside it. Pa tells me there used to be guardians of the fire sometimes in the very old days—vestal virgins, he calls them—although there was unfrozen air all around then and you didn't really need one.

He was sitting just that way now, though he got up quick to take the pail from me and bawl me out for loitering—he'd spotted my frozen helmet right off. That roused Ma and she joined in picking on me. She's always trying to get the load off her feelings, Pa explains. He shut her up pretty fast. Sis let off a couple of silly squeals too.

Pa handled the pail of air in a twist of cloth. Now that it was inside the Nest, you could really feel its coldness. It just seemed to suck the heat out of everything. Even the flames cringed away from it as Pa put it down close by the fire.

Yet it's that glimmery white stuff in the pail that keeps us alive. It slowly melts and vanishes and refreshes the Nest and feeds the fire. The blankets keep it from escaping too fast. Pa'd like to seal the whole place, but he can't—building's too earthquake-twisted, and besides he has to leave the chimney open for smoke.

Pa says air is tiny molecules that fly away like a flash if there isn't something to stop them. We have to watch sharp not to let the air run low. Pa always keeps a big reserve supply of it in buckets behind the first blankets, along with extra coal and cans of food and other things, such as pails of snow to melt for water. We have to go way down to the bottom floor for that stuff, which is a mean trip, and get it through a door to outside.

You see, when the Earth got cold, all the water in the air froze first and made a blanket ten feet thick or so everywhere, and then down on top of that dropped the crystals of frozen air, making another white blanket sixty or seventy feet thick maybe.

Of course, all the parts of the air didn't freeze and snow down at the same time.

First to drop out was the carbon dioxide—when you're shoveling for water, you have to make sure you don't go too high and get any of that stuff mixed in, for it would put you to sleep, maybe for good, and make the fire go out. Next there's the nitrogen, which doesn't count one way or the other, though it's the biggest part of the blanket. On top of that and easy to get at, which is lucky for us, there's the oxygen that keeps us alive. Pa says we live better than kings ever did, breathing pure oxygen, but we're used to it and don't notice. Finally, at the very top, there's a slick of liquid helium, which is funny stuff. All of these gases in neat separate layers. Like a pussy caffay, Pa laughingly says, whatever that is.

I was busting to tell them all about what I'd seen, and so as soon as I'd ducked out of my helmet and while I was still climbing out of my suit, I cut loose. Right away Ma got nervous and began making eyes at the entry-slit in the blankets and wringing her hands together—the hand where she'd lost three fingers from frostbite inside the good one, as usual. I could tell that Pa was annoyed at me scaring her and wanted to explain it all away quickly, yet could see I wasn't fooling.

"And you watched this light for some time, son?" he asked when I finished.

I hadn't said anything about first thinking it was a young lady's face. Somehow that part embarrassed me.

"Long enough for it to pass five windows and go to the next floor."

"And it didn't look like stray electricity or crawling liquid or starlight focused by a growing crystal, or anything like that?"

He wasn't just making up those ideas. Odd things happen in a world that's about as cold as can be, and just when you think matter would be frozen dead, it takes on a strange new life. A slimy stuff comes crawling toward the Nest, just like an animal snuffing for heat—that's the liquid helium. And once, when I was little, a bolt of lightning—not even Pa could figure where it came from—hit the nearby steeple and crawled up and down it for weeks, until the glow finally died.

"Not like anything I ever saw," I told him.

He stood for a moment frowning. Then, "I'll go out with you, and you show it to me," he said.

Ma raised a howl at the idea of being left alone, and Sis joined in, too, but Pa quieted them. We started climbing into our outside clothes—mine had been warming by the fire. Pa made them. They have plastic headpieces that were once big double-duty transparent food cans, but they keep heat and air in and can replace the air for a little while, long enough for our trips for water and coal and food and so on.

Ma started moaning again, "I've always known there was something outside there, waiting to get us. I've felt it for years—something that's part of the cold and hates all warmth and wants to destroy the Nest. It's been watching us all this time, and now it's coming after us. It'll get you and then come for me. Don't go, Harry!"

Pa had everything on but his helmet. He knelt by the fireplace and reached in and shook the long metal rod that goes up the chimney and knocks off the ice that keeps trying to clog it. Once a week he goes up on the roof to check if it's working all right. That's our worst trip and Pa won't let me make it alone.

"Sis," Pa said quietly, "come watch the fire. Keep an eye on the air, too. If it gets low or doesn't seem to be boiling fast enough, fetch another bucket from behind the blanket. But mind your hands. Use the cloth to pick up the bucket."

Sis quit helping Ma be frightened and came over and did as she was told. Ma quieted down pretty suddenly, though her eyes were still kind of wild as she watched Pa fix on his helmet tight and pick up a pail and the two of us go out.

Pa led the way and I took hold of his belt. It's a funny thing, I'm not afraid to go by myself, but when Pa's along I always want to hold on to him. Habit, I guess, and then there's no denying that this time I was a bit scared.

You see, it's this way. We know that everything is dead out there. Pa heard the last radio voices fade away years ago, and had seen some of the last folks die who weren't as lucky or well-protected as us. So we knew that if there was something groping around out there, it couldn't be anything human or friendly.

Besides that, there's a feeling that comes with it always being night, cold night. Pa says there used to be some of that feeling even in the old days, but then every morning the Sun would come and chase it away. I have to take his word for that, not ever remembering the Sun as being anything more than a big star. You see, I hadn't been born when the dark star snatched us away from the Sun, and by now it's dragged us out beyond the orbit of the planet Pluto, Pa says, and taking us farther out all the time.

I found myself wondering whether there mightn't be something on the dark star that wanted us, and if that was why it had captured the Earth. Just then we came to the end of the corridor and I followed Pa out on the balcony.

I don't know what the city looked like in the old days, but now it's beautiful. The starlight lets you see it pretty well—there's quite a bit of light in those steady points speckling the blackness above. (Pa says the stars used to twinkle once, but that was because there was air.) We are on a hill and the shimmery plain drops away from us and then flattens out, cut up into neat squares by the troughs that used to be streets. I sometimes make my mashed potatoes look like it, before I pour on the gravy.

Some taller buildings push up out of the feathery plain, topped by rounded caps of air crystals, like the fur hood Ma wears, only whiter. On those buildings you can see the darker squares of windows, underlined by white dashes of air crystals. Some of them are on a slant, for many of the buildings are pretty badly twisted by the quakes and all the rest that happened when the dark star captured the Earth.

Here and there a few icicles hang, water icicles from the first days of the cold, other icicles of frozen air that melted on the roofs and dripped and froze again. Sometimes one of those icicles will catch the light of a star and send it to you so brightly you think the star has swooped into the city. That was one of the things Pa had been thinking of when I told him about the light, but I had thought of it myself first and known it wasn't so.

He touched his helmet to mine so we could talk easier and he asked me to point out the windows to him. But there wasn't any light moving around inside them now, or anywhere else. To my surprise, Pa didn't bawl me out and tell me I'd been seeing things. He looked all around quite a while after filling his pail, and just as we were going inside he whipped around without warning, as if to take some peeping thing off guard.

I could feel it, too. The old peace was gone. There was something lurking out there, watching, waiting, getting ready.

Inside, he said to me, touching helmets, "If you see something like that again, son, don't tell the others. Your Ma's sort of nervous these days and we owe her all the feeling of safety we can give her. Once—it was when your sister was born—I was ready to give up and die, but your Mother kept me trying. Another time she kept the fire going a whole week all by herself when I was sick. Nursed me and took care of the two of you, too."

"You know that game we sometimes play, sitting in a square in the Nest, tossing a ball around? Courage is like a ball, son. A person can hold it only so long, and then he's got to toss it to someone else. When it's tossed your way, you've got to catch it and hold it tight—and hope there'll be someone else to toss it to when you get tired of being brave."

His talking to me that way made me feel grown-up and good. But it didn't wipe away the thing outside from the back of my mind—or the fact that Pa took it seriously.

It's hard to hide your feelings about such a thing. When we got back in the Nest and took off our outside clothes, Pa laughed about it all and told them it was nothing and kidded me for having such an imagination, but his words fell flat. He didn't convince Ma and Sis any more than he did me. It looked for a minute like we were all fumbling the courage-ball. Something had to be done, and almost before I knew what I was going to say, I heard myself asking Pa to tell us about the old days, and how it all happened.

He sometimes doesn't mind telling that story, and Sis and I sure like to listen to it, and he got my idea. So we were all settled around the fire in a wink, and Ma pushed up some cans to thaw for supper, and Pa began. Before he did, though, I noticed him casually get a hammer from the shelf and lay it down beside him.

It was the same old story as always—I think I could recite the main thread of it in my sleep—though Pa always puts in a new detail or two and keeps improving it in spots.

He told us how the Earth had been swinging around the Sun ever so steady and warm, and the people on it fixing to make money and wars and have a good time and get power and treat each other right or wrong, when without warning there comes charging out of space this dead star, this burned out sun, and upsets everything.

You know, I find it hard to believe in the way those people felt, any more than I can believe in the swarming number of them. Imagine people getting ready for the horrible sort of war they were cooking up. Wanting it even, or at least wishing it were over so as to end their nervousness. As if all folks didn't have to hang together and pool every bit of warmth just to keep alive. And how can they have hoped to end danger, any more than we can hope to end the cold?

Sometimes I think Pa exaggerates and makes things out too black. He's cross with us once in a while and was probably cross with all those folks. Still, some of the things I read in the old magazines sound pretty wild. He may be right.

The dark star, as Pa went on telling it, rushed in pretty fast and there wasn't much time to get ready. At the beginning they tried to keep it a secret from most people, but then the truth came out, what with the earthquakes and floods—imagine, oceans of unfrozen water!—and people seeing stars blotted out by something on a clear night. First off they thought it would hit the Sun, and then they thought it would hit the Earth. There was even the start of a rush to get to a place called China, because people thought the star would hit on the other side. But then they found it wasn't going to hit either side, but was going to come very close to the Earth.

Most of the other planets were on the other side of the Sun and didn't get involved. The Sun and the newcomer fought over the Earth for a little while—pulling it this way and that, like two dogs growling over a bone, Pa described it this time—and then the newcomer won and carried us off. The Sun got a consolation prize, though. At the last minute he managed to hold on to the Moon.

That was the time of the monster earthquakes and floods, twenty times worse than anything before. It was also the time of the Big Jerk, as Pa calls it, when all Earth got yanked suddenly, just as Pa has done to me once or twice, grabbing me by the collar to do it, when I've been sitting too far from the fire.

You see, the dark star was going through space faster than the Sun, and in the opposite direction, and it had to wrench the world considerably in order to take it away.

The Big Jerk didn't last long. It was over as soon as the Earth was settled down in its new orbit around the dark star. But it was pretty terrible while it lasted. Pa says that all sorts of cliffs and buildings toppled, oceans slopped over, swamps and sandy deserts gave great sliding surges that buried nearby lands. Earth was almost jerked out of its atmosphere blanket and the air got so thin in spots that people keeled over and fainted—though of course, at the same time, they were getting knocked down by the Big Jerk and maybe their bones broke or skulls cracked.

We've often asked Pa how people acted during that time, whether they were scared or brave or crazy or stunned, or all four, but he's sort of leery of the subject, and he was again tonight. He says he was mostly too busy to notice.

You see, Pa and some scientist friends of his had figured out part of what was going to happen—they'd known we'd get captured and our air would freeze—and they'd been working like mad to fix up a place with airtight walls and doors, and insulation against the cold, and big supplies of food and fuel and water and bottled air. But the place got smashed in the last earthquakes and all Pa's friends were killed then and in the Big Jerk. So he had to start over and throw the Nest together quick without any advantages, just using any stuff he could lay his hands on.

I guess he's telling pretty much the truth when he says he didn't have any time to keep an eye on how other folks behaved, either then or in the Big Freeze that followed—followed very quick, you know, both because the dark star was pulling us away very fast and because Earth's rotation had been slowed in the tug-of-war, so that the nights were ten old nights long.

Still, I've got an idea of some of the things that happened from the frozen folk I've seen, a few of them in other rooms in our building, others clustered around the furnaces in the basements where we go for coal.

In one of the rooms, an old man sits stiff in a chair, with an arm and a leg in splints. In another, a man and woman are huddled together in a bed with heaps of covers over them. You can just see their heads peeking out, close together. And in another a beautiful young lady is sitting with a pile of wraps huddled around her, looking hopefully toward the door, as if waiting for someone who never came back with warmth and food. They're all still and stiff as statues, of course, but just like life.

Pa showed them to me once in quick winks of his flashlight, when he still had a fair supply of batteries and could afford to waste a little light. They scared me pretty bad and made my heart pound, especially the young lady.

Now, with Pa telling his story for the umpteenth time to take our minds off another scare, I got to thinking of the frozen folk again. All of a sudden I got an idea that scared me worse than anything yet. You see, I'd just remembered the face I'd thought I'd seen in the window. I'd forgotten about that on account of trying to hide it from the others.

What, I asked myself, if the frozen folk were coming to life? What if they were like the liquid helium that got a new lease on life and started crawling toward the heat just when you thought its molecules ought to freeze solid forever? Or like the electricity that moves endlessly when it's just about as cold as that? What if the ever-growing cold, with the temperature creeping down the last few degrees to the last zero, had mysteriously wakened the frozen folk to life—not warm-blooded life, but something icy and horrible?

That was a worse idea than the one about something coming down from the dark star to get us.

Or maybe, I thought, both ideas might be true. Something coming down from the dark star and making the frozen folk move, using them to do its work. That would fit with both things I'd seen—the beautiful young lady and the moving, starlike light.

The frozen folk with minds from the dark star behind their unwinking eyes, creeping, crawling, snuffing their way, following the heat to the Nest.

I tell you, that thought gave me a very bad turn and I wanted very badly to tell the others my fears, but I remembered what Pa had said and clenched my teeth and didn't speak.

We were all sitting very still. Even the fire was burning silently. There was just the sound of Pa's voice and the clocks.

And then, from beyond the blankets, I thought I heard a tiny noise. My skin tightened all over me.

Pa was telling about the early years in the Nest and had come to the place where he philosophizes.

"So I asked myself then," he said, "what's the use of going on? What's the use of dragging it out for a few years? Why prolong a doomed existence of hard work and cold and loneliness? The human race is done. The Earth is done. Why not give up, I asked myself—and all of a sudden I got the answer."

Again I heard the noise, louder this time, a kind of uncertain, shuffling tread, coming closer. I couldn't breathe.

"Life's always been a business of working hard and fighting the cold," Pa was saying. "The earth's always been a lonely place, millions of miles from the next planet. And no matter how long the human race might have lived, the end would have come some night. Those things don't matter. What matters is that life is good. It has a lovely texture, like some rich cloth or fur, or the petals of flowers—you've seen pictures of those, but I can't describe how they feel—or the fire's glow. It makes everything else worth while. And that's as true for the last man as the first."

And still the steps kept shuffling closer. It seemed to me that the inmost blanket trembled and bulged a little. Just as if they were burned into my imagination, I kept seeing those peering, frozen eyes.

"So right then and there," Pa went on, and now I could tell that he heard the steps, too, and was talking loud so we maybe wouldn't hear them, "right then and there I told myself that I was going on as if we had all eternity ahead of us. I'd have children and teach them all I could. I'd get them to read books. I'd plan for the future, try to enlarge and seal the Nest. I'd do what I could to keep everything beautiful and growing. I'd keep alive my feeling of wonder even at the cold and the dark and the distant stars."

But then the blanket actually did move and lift. And there was a bright light somewhere behind it. Pa's voice stopped and his eyes turned to the widening slit and his hand went out until it touched and gripped the handle of the hammer beside him.

In through the blanket stepped the beautiful young lady. She stood there looking at us the strangest way, and she carried something bright and unwinking in her hand. And two other faces peered over her shoulders—men's faces, white and staring.

Well, my heart couldn't have been stopped for more than four or five beats before I realized she was wearing a suit and helmet like Pa's homemade ones, only fancier, and that the men were, too—and that the frozen folk certainly wouldn't be wearing those. Also, I noticed that the bright thing in her hand was just a kind of flashlight.

The silence kept on while I swallowed hard a couple of times, and after that there was all sorts of jabbering and commotion.

They were simply people, you see. We hadn't been the only ones to survive; we'd just thought so, for natural enough reasons. These three people had survived, and quite a few others with them. And when we found out how they'd survived, Pa let out the biggest whoop of joy.

They were from Los Alamos and they were getting their heat and power from atomic energy. Just using the uranium and plutonium intended for bombs, they had enough to go on for thousands of years. They had a regular little airtight city, with air-locks and all. They even generated electric light and grew plants and animals by it. (At this Pa let out a second whoop, waking Ma from her faint.)

But if we were flabbergasted at them, they were double-flabbergasted at us.

One of the men kept saying, "But it's impossible, I tell you. You can't maintain an air supply without hermetic sealing. It's simply impossible."

That was after he had got his helmet off and was using our air. Meanwhile, the young lady kept looking around at us as if we were saints, and telling us we'd done something amazing, and suddenly she broke down and cried.

They'd been scouting around for survivors, but they never expected to find any in a place like this. They had rocket ships at Los Alamos and plenty of chemical fuel. As for liquid oxygen, all you had to do was go out and shovel the air blanket at the top level. So after they'd got things going smoothly at Los Alamos, which had taken years, they'd decided to make some trips to likely places where there might be other survivors. No good trying long-distance radio signals, of course, since there was no atmosphere to carry them around the curve of the Earth.

Well, they'd found other colonies at Argonne and Brookhaven and way around the world at Harwell and Tanna Tuva. And now they'd been giving our city a look, not really expecting to find anything. But they had an instrument that noticed the faintest heat waves and it had told them there was something warm down here, so they'd landed to investigate. Of course we hadn't heard them land, since there was no air to carry the sound, and they'd had to investigate around quite a while before finding us. Their instruments had given them a wrong steer and they'd wasted some time in the building across the street.

By now, all five adults were talking like sixty. Pa was demonstrating to the men how he worked the fire and got rid of the ice in the chimney and all that. Ma had perked up wonderfully and was showing the young lady her cooking and sewing stuff, and even asking about how the women dressed at Los Alamos. The strangers marveled at everything and praised it to the skies. I could tell from the way they wrinkled their noses that they found the Nest a bit smelly, but they never mentioned that at all and just asked bushels of questions.

In fact, there was so much talking and excitement that Pa forgot about things, and it wasn't until they were all getting groggy that he looked and found the air had all boiled away in the pail. He got another bucket of air quick from behind the blankets. Of course that started them all laughing and jabbering again. The newcomers even got a little drunk. They weren't used to so much oxygen.

Funny thing, though—I didn't do much talking at all and Sis hung on to Ma all the time and hid her face when anybody looked at her. I felt pretty uncomfortable and disturbed myself, even about the young lady. Glimpsing her outside there, I'd had all sorts of mushy thoughts, but now I was just embarrassed and scared of her, even though she tried to be nice as anything to me.

I sort of wished they'd all quit crowding the Nest and let us be alone and get our feelings straightened out.

And when the newcomers began to talk about our all going to Los Alamos, as if that were taken for granted, I could see that something of the same feeling struck Pa and Ma, too. Pa got very silent all of a sudden and Ma kept telling the young lady, "But I wouldn't know how to act there and I haven't any clothes."

The strangers were puzzled like anything at first, but then they got the idea. As Pa kept saying, "It just doesn't seem right to let this fire go out."

Well, the strangers are gone, but they're coming back. It hasn't been decided yet just what will happen. Maybe the Nest will be kept up as what one of the strangers called a "survival school." Or maybe we will join the pioneers who are going to try to establish a new colony at the uranium mines at Great Slave Lake or in the Congo.

Of course, now that the strangers are gone, I've been thinking a lot about Los Alamos and those other tremendous colonies. I have a hankering to see them for myself.

You ask me, Pa wants to see them, too. He's been getting pretty thoughtful, watching Ma and Sis perk up.

"It's different, now that we know others are alive," he explains to me. "Your mother doesn't feel so hopeless any more. Neither do I, for that matter, not having to carry the whole responsibility for keeping the human race going, so to speak. It scares a person."

I looked around at the blanket walls and the fire and the pails of air boiling away and Ma and Sis sleeping in the warmth and the flickering light.

"It's not going to be easy to leave the Nest," I said, wanting to cry, kind of. "It's so small and there's just the four of us. I get scared at the idea of big places and a lot of strangers."

He nodded and put another piece of coal on the fire. Then he looked at the little pile and grinned suddenly and put a couple of handfuls on, just as if it was one of our birthdays or Christmas.

"You'll quickly get over that feeling son," he said. "The trouble with the world was that it kept getting smaller and smaller, till it ended with just the Nest. Now it'll be good to have a real huge world again, the way it was in the beginning."

I guess he's right. You think the beautiful young lady will wait for me till I grow up? I'll be twenty in only ten years.

Nope, not reading all that