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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years ago

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share with us the angstiest thing you have ever written for the boys

triggering content starts after the cut. warnings: suicide, suicidal ideation, blood, substance abuse, major character death.

Before everything, Starcourt and monsters, blood baths and last breaths, Billy would knock on the double doors of the Harrington mansion exactly five times. The nights in Hawkins were long and dark, bad things happened in the small town after dark, and he always wanted Steve to know it was him. It was like clockwork, almost every night, when either of them couldn’t sleep or just needed to kill time, the sound of his knuckles against the double oaken doors rang out five times.

Now Billy was dead, and Steve would do anything to hear that knock again.

It’s been three months since they buried Billy, and Robin comes to check on Steve like she always does. They had an argument, and hed been holed up in his room since. Outside his bedroom door, Robin shifts her weight awkwardly back and forth, from her left to her right, thinking of what age could say to him from the other side of the door, but she’s frustrated, and eventually she gives up and walks away. But Steve, on the other side of that door, I’m some part of his mind, is unaware that it's her. He's in his bed for five hours without so much as moving, thinking that if he would’ve made a sound, the Russians would have found him again, and he cries silently in his bed.

He wishes he wasn’t alone.

Steve is in the hospital again. They say he can’t be trusted on his own anymore, that he needs constant supervision to keep him from ‘doing something he’ll regret’. What he really needs is to go back to the start, before abduction and drugs and death. They’ll never understand that, the five pairs of sympathetic eyes staring back at him as he sits in that stupid, stiff bed.

They can’t help him anymore, and he doesn’t want their help.

Steve doesn’t leave the house anymore. It’s not without reason, the first time he does go our, it doesn’t go well. He thought he saw something, someone just a little too familiar on the sidewalk, and he was too scared to move, instantly lost in his head. A horn blares five times, the last sharp beep piercing his haze and shocking him back into action. There’s a car behind him, and he’s parked at a green light, staring with wide eyes at the sidewalk. He drives back home like nothing happened, but he’s shaken, and he can’t stop worrying about what he saw.

Robin takes his license and his keys the same day.

Sometimes, Nancy comes to check on him while Robin’s working. They don’t trust him by himself anymore. Today’s apparently his 20th birthday, but he hasn’t known what day it was since July 4th. Every day in his head he’s back there, celebration seems pointless, almost disrespectful even. Nancy hands him a neat little stack of five gift boxes, one from her and some from a few of the kids she says. He doesn’t open them.

She leaves in a hurry, because there’s nothing really to celebrate.

It’s hard to know that there’s no joy in life left for him. Waking up and living everyday without a purpose is hard, next to impossible almost. The kids don’t need him anymore. Robin thinks he’s a burden. Billy and Hopper and 30 other people who weren’t strangers enough to forget them are dead. Everyone else moved on and he’s just stuck. He puts out his fifth cigarette against his wrist, watching the little red burn mark that forms on his skin.

He swears it doesn't even hurt, and thinks about not putting it out next time, leaving it to burn on the carpet, or in a blanket.

It’s been a year now, and they think he’s doing better. He isn’t, but they don’t need to know that. If they don’t see the tears, they don’t count. If they can’t find the scars, they aren’t really there. They wouldn’t get it anyways. It’s the Fourth of July again, and all it takes is five little firecrackers from the neighbors yard before he’s back there, back at the mall, concussed and sick to his stomach and throwing fireworks at the monster that had his Billy. And then Robin pulls him back inside and gives him something to take, and it’s over, much in the same way it was over the day Billy took a tentacle straight through the center of his chest.

He wants to change what happened that night and save everyone. He wishes he had been the one who died.

The phone rings five times before anyone answers it. Steve already knows it’s his therapist. He’s been lying and they found out. You don’t just drop thirty pounds without trying, and you don’t take too many pills by accident. They treat him like he’s crazy, like he’s broken and has no right to be after what happened, what he saw. They try to get him another job, try to make him eat three times a day and make him be social again. Steve knows it won’t work, because he’s already gone.

Everything that he went through already killed him.

A sound wakes him up. It’s the early hours of the morning and there’s a tapping on his window. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. For a moment he wishfully thinks it was all a dream, but then the reality hits him. The monster is back for him, it found him and it finally came to finish what it started. He closes his eyes, but he isn’t scared, he’d felt it coming for a long time. It would come through the window and it would tear him to pieces, even if there wasn’t much left of him to begin with, and quite frankly, he was relieved. But it never comes. The sound was nothing more than a branch from the overgrown trees nobody had bothered to trim in years rapping against the side of his house. This repeats like clockwork, every night the same routine.

Steve is so, so tired.

Five knocks on the bathroom door, and he’s free of all the pain. Billy is here, and Steve isn’t sad anymore. He wants to cry when he sees him, kneeling down beside him, his golden hair and his deep blue eyes, no blood or black veins anywhere in sight, but he doesn’t think he could. There’s too much to be happy about. No more sleepless nights, no more terror plaguing his every thought, no more pitiful glances while he struggles to cope with what they did to him. Finally, it was all over, and Steve could move on.

~~~~~~~

Robin finds him in the bathtub. There’s a deep gash in each of his wrists, and a note taped to the mirror. She supposes she’s in shock, but it isn’t really surprising. For a while she could tell that they should’ve been doing so much more for him, but they weren’t. They didn’t know how.

She lets herself cry for a long while before she calls anybody. She knows that if it wasn’t for Steve, she probably wouldn’t have been able to deal with everything. Lord knows Steve couldn’t, even with what little they offered him.

She’s torn apart by the loss of the most empathetic person she’d ever met, of a brave soul and an even better leader, of her very best friend.

The faucet drips five drops at a time, and Steve’s blood is on Robin's hands.

#tw suicide #tw blood #tw substance abuse #tw major character death #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #robin buckley #story by ej!#ej writer #this is not glorifying suicide #this is Steve’s thought process in his depressive mindset #and how Robin is slipping into that same mindset #I do not support suicide as a solution to anything #I just think grief and loss are horrible things and the cycle of suffering it can cause can ruin lives #ps thank you for the request anon! i was lookin for a reason to finish this #answered

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harrysweasleys · 5 years ago

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Legacy

Summary: Slytherin Reader is married to Fred and the two have a daughter. When she goes off to Hogwarts and gets sorted into Slytherin, it’s a tough pill for Fred to swallow.

Warnings: angst, language

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: So I really enjoyed writing this one. It starts off a little slow but it picks up, I promise!! I’m just soft for dad Fred. he deserved better.

The pairing of Fred Weasley and Y/N Y/L/N was unlikely to say the least. The two, who had been in the same year, didn’t find themselves in each others’ company during their time at Hogwarts. But, Y/N, who was loyal to the school, had saved him from a terrible fate during the Battle of Hogwarts, and the two found their way together after that.

She had known of the Gryffindor prankster, he was not exactly subtle in their years together at Hogwarts. On multiple occasions, the tall ginger twin had set of Dungbombs and Fireworks in their classrooms. Y/N never admitted it, but she always found the twins’ pranks quite amusing. She would silently laugh behind her hand as McGonagall or Flitwick, or sometimes even Snape would glare at them and remove points from Gryffindor. But, that never dampened the spirits of the brothers, who always found a way to keep people on their toes.

Y/N, on the other hand, tried not to bring too much attention to herself in her time at the school. She was placed in Slytherin, much to her parents’ utter thrill, and kept her circle of friends small. She only really had two friends — a dark-haired boy named Stellan and a blonde girl named Alice. The two had been her go-to companions practically the whole time she was there. They had been some of the only non-pureblood-fanatics she had met. Sure, she prided herself in being a pureblood with well-respected parents, but found no understanding in why some people in her house — particularly Draco Malfoy — found pleasure in bringing down those who weren’t.

After graduating, Y/N took time off and debated coming back to Hogwarts as a professor — the late Professor Snape always told her she had a talent for Potions — but with the looming threat of the Dark Lord’s return, she decided to stay on the down-low and get a job in Diagon Alley at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

She spent five years being a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, she really did love the sport. She also found herself wandering into Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes during her breaks, admiring the new products on the shelf and having a laugh at those who tried some of their infamous sweets. How the twins managed to keep people smiling in such a dark time, she had no idea.

When the Battle of Hogwarts came to be, Y/N found herself on the frontline, ready to defend the school that her heart belonged to. Which is how she found Fred, cornered in by a Death Eater, who looked ready to kill. She had sent him a curse — ‘levicorpus!’ — and Fred knew right there in that moment that she was the one.

The two found each other one day in Diagon Alley, and they were both done for. Falling in love didn’t come hard for these two. Five years later, they were married, and two years after that, their first child — a daughter — was born.

Ariella Weasley took after her father. She had long, curly ginger hair and freckles scattered across her pale cheeks. The older she got, the more she resembled him. She also did take after her mother, though, because she had Fred wrapped around her little finger. She also had her mother’s pale Y/E/C eyes and her honest smile.

“I’d die for the two of you, y’know?” Fred mumbled to Y/N one night as the two put their baby girl to sleep. Y/N knew, she’d die for the both of them too. They were her entire world.

As Ariella grew older, she started to have fun pranking her cousins with her dad. The two were like partners in crime, and Y/N felt like the luckiest woman alive to be surrounded by two of the liveliest people in the universe.

When Ariella was 11, her Hogwarts letter came in the mail.

“Now, Ari, you’ve got a reputation to live up to. A legacy if you will,” Fred told her, sitting her on the couch, “Uncle Georgie and I really left our mark on Hogwarts, yeah? So keep in mind that you’ve got to live up to it.”

Arielle looked to her mum, eyes wide.

“He’s kidding, love,” Y/N rubbed her back soothingly, “Your dad had a reputation of getting into trouble. If you chose not to go down that same path, you won’t hear me complaining.”

Fred rolled his eyes at his wife, “You know that I made sure things were never boring. Life is supposed to be fun!”

“Fun, yes,” Y/N chuckled, “But education is also important, especially for a young witch. Your dad caused many distractions.” Ariella looked between her two parents and shot them both a toothy grin.

“Trouble and learning go well together!”

Y/N shook her head, a smile on her face as well.

Fred grinned at the two of them, “That’s my girl! When you get sorted into Gryffindor, tell McGonagall I say hi.”

“If she gets sorted into Gryffindor,” Y/N reminded him, “Any house is fine, darling. They’ve all got their strengths.”

Fred was proud of his time in the scarlet and gold house, and he made sure people knew. Everyone in the Weasley family had been placed there and they had each been treated with respect every time they stepped foot back in the school. Ginny, Ron, Fred and George had been on the Quidditch team, Bill and Percy had been Head Boy — there was no shortage of love for the Gryffindor house in the Weasley family.

“But what if she gets placed in Slytherin?” Fred grimaced, “Goodness.”

Y/N thought he was joking, so she shrugged him off and faced her daughter, “I was a Slytherin, and I think I turned out fine.”

“You did, not everyone did. I mean, most Death Eaters came out of there,” Fred pressed on, arms crossed. Ariella looked between her parents, trying to figure out what she’d do if she wasn’t in Gryffindor.

“There are no more Death Eaters, Freddie,” Y/N was a little more stern, “Besides, I knew loads of people in Slytherin who didn’t end up working for the Dark Lord. You just gotta pick your battles.”

Fred dropped the subject and continued telling his daughter about all the things she has to look forward to in her upcoming years.

---

The day Y/N and Fred dropped her off at Platform Nine and Three Quarters was sad day indeed. Y/N shed a few tears, and Fred felt his heart crack slightly as he watched the red steam engine barrel out of sight.

The two made their way back, stopping by to have tea in London before taking their sweet time coming home, and when they got through the front doors a little after sunset, Fred threw his body down on the couch and dragged Y/N down with him. He wrapped her up in his arms and nuzzled his head into her neck.

“What are we gonna do with all this alone time, huh?” he smirked against her neck, placing a light kiss before abruptly pulling away, “Pillow fight!”

He caught her completely off guard and smacked a couch pillow across her face. She held back a gasp, grabbing the one behind her and smacking him right back.

The two battled it out until they were red in the face and panting, both slightly sore from toppling over furniture to avoid getting hit in the face.

“What should we do for dinner, love?” Fred wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the side of her cheek, “First dinner without Ariella in a long time.”

“I know,” Y/N replied, the hollow feeling in her chest growing as she missed her daughter, “It’s weird. But I know she’s off to go have the best seven years of her life.”

“Yeah,” Fred responded, “Maybe she can even bring home the House Cup!”

“Maybe she can,” Y/N twirled around, placing a light kiss to her husband’s lips and trailing off into the kitchen.

---

The next morning, Y/N and Fred Weasley were awoken by a large owl knocking at their window, a letter attached to its scrawny leg.

“Oh, it’s from Hogwarts,” Y/N grinned as she opened the window, plucking the letter off of the owl, tipping it with a quick snack, and letting it fly back to where it came from.

She opened the letter and read it aloud;

‘Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

We are thrilled to inform you that as of last night at 7:03pm, your daughter Ariella Weasley has been sorted into Slytherin House. Headmistress McGonagall would like to send her well-wishes and hopes this letter finds you well.

Forms will be going out next month to students who wish to come home for the Christmas and New Year holidays.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’

Y/N placed the letter down with a smile, her heart thumping loudly, “Hey, she takes after her mother after all! She’s in Slytherin!”

“What?” Fred muttered, his face paler than usual. His hands gripped the bedsheets, “She’s in Slytherin?”

Y/N clutched the letter in her hand and made her way over to the bed, sitting next to him with a smile on her face, oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm.

“That’s great, I’m happy for her. I wonder if I should tell her about the secret passageway next to the fireplace—”

“She’s in Slytherin? Why?” Fred placed his head in his hands as if searching his brain for the answer. Y/N dropped the letter and held onto his wrists, forcing him to look up at her.

“What’s the issue? Why are you so upset she’s in Slytherin?” she tried to hide the hurt in her voice at how lowly he thought of her house. Yes, Slytherin had a reputation, but that was in the past. Y/N had a lot of emerald pride.

“Because — Slytherin, Y/N,” he shook his head, “I mean, come on. Voldemort was Slytherin, Malfoy, Snape, Crabbe and Goyle—”

“So was I,” she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow, “First off, Voldemort was fifty years before us. Snape’s dead, may he rest in peace, so are Crabbe and Goyle. They made mistakes and paid for them. Not everyone in the house ended up being awful. Every house in Hogwarts has had their share of... troubled wizards. Slytherin happens to have had more, sure, but that’s not the house’s fault. It’s the wizard’s fault.”

Fred didn’t seem calmed by her words, not bothering to hide his distaste for Salazar Slytherin’s house.

“But they’re wicked. They’d cheat at Quidditch, they’d taunt first years, they’d always think they were better than everyone else.”

Y/N didn’t stop glaring at him, “Fred, you can’t be serious. I was a Slytherin and I saved your ass. Alice was Slytherin and she’s now an Auror, Stellan owns a store in Diagon Alley — which may I remind you, you do too.”

“That’s different,” he muttered, turning to face away from her and getting out of bed, “You were good. You’ve always been good. You should have been in Ravenclaw or something.”

“What?” she got up as well, forgetting about the letter on the bed, “What is your problem? Just suck it up and accept the fact that two of the women in your life are Slytherins.”

Without another word, she stormed out of the room and down the stairs, anger fuming from her ears. She knew Fred still held distaste for her house, but she thought that after all these years, he’d be way over it.

She stormed into the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea and grabbing the copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered at their doorstep that morning, sitting down at the table and sipping her tea. She looked over the announcements from the Ministry, seeing a few familiar names, and didn’t bother looking up from the newspaper when she noticed Fred begrudgingly walking down the stairs, his feet dragging across the floor as he sat across from her at the dining table.

“Love, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to look at her over the newspaper, “I shouldn’t have said what I did, I was just shocked, I guess.”

“Shocked? Is that what you call shock? Sounds like a grudge, if you ask me,” she replied cooly, still not looking at him.

He sighed, “I overreacted, I know. I don’t know why, I just can’t help but think of them the same way that I did when I was in school.”

“Freddie, you can’t do that,” she finally lowered the paper and placed it aside, “Firstly, it hurts me. Secondly, it’ll hurt Ari as well if you start dissing Slytherin. She was really nervous, she doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reached across the table and held her hands gently, “And I don’t want Ari to think I’m disappointed in her. I just — I’ll get over it, I promise.”

---

Over the next few months, Ariella wrote to the two of them, expressing how excited she was to be making friends. She also ranted on for two pages about her love for Transfigurations and Herbology. Her Professor, Neville Longbottom, had been a friend of Fred’s when he was at school.

Fred had grown more used to the fact that his daughter was a Slytherin, and the conversations involving her house were usually pretty short between him and Y/N.

As the Christmas holidays rolled around, Fred and Y/N had decorated the house in preparation to finally have their daughter home. Although they never really lost contact, it had been a long few months for her parents.

“The train’s arriving at two o’clock, Fred! You need to get going!” Y/N whisked him out the door, placing a quick kiss on his lips before returning to the kitchen and continuing the cookies she had been making. It was rare she did them the muggle way, but she had time to spare and thought baking would be fun.

Within the hour, Fred and Ariella arrived through the door, both grinning and red-nosed. Y/N rushed over to her daughter, scooping her up in her arms and squeezing her.

“Mum, ouch,” Ariella giggled, “At least let me take my shoes off.”

Y/N placed her daughter down and started removing her apron, rushing into the kitchen to place the fresh batch of cookies in front of them both. Fred grinned, shoving three of them in his mouth and smiling at Y/N, crumbs falling all over the table.

Ariella grabbed her trunk that Fred brought in and excused herself, rushing upstairs to her room to put it away.

“These are good, they taste like Christmas,” Fred spoke through another mouthful of cookie.

“Fred, don’t eat them all,” Y/N chuckled, moving the plate out of his reach with a smirk, “I haven’t got all holiday to keep making more.”

He sagged his shoulders and sighed dramatically, “Fiiiine.” He walked around the table, pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Ariella came tumbling down the stairs in a mess of green.

“You good?” Y/N asked her daughter, holding back a laugh as Ariella stood up, brushing herself off as if no one noticed her fall.

“Yep, totally,” she walked it off, placing a mess of fabric down on the table, “Anyways, I wanted to show you guys my stuff! Here’s my Slytherin scarf, I usually only wear it to Quidditch games — oh, we beat Hufflepuff real good — and here’s my tie. Getting used to it was weird but I quite like it now. And here’s my sweater that a girl in my house gave to me as a Christmas gift.”

She lifted up the bulky green sweater, showing off the giant Slytherin house crest on the front, “It’ll be my new go-to during matches in the springtime. Slughorn — he’s head of my house — says I’ve got unmatched Slytherin pride! He also says hi, mum.”

Y/N smiled, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “This is all lovely, darling. I’m glad you’re so proud of your house. And tell Professor Slughorn I say hi back.”

Ariella grinned, picking up the scarf and wrapping it around her neck, tossing her ginger hair over her shoulder and posing, “Doesn’t green just suit me?”

“Of course —”

“We get it, you like Slytherin,” Fred snapped from next to the fridge. He was leaning against it, arms crossed as he watched his daughter flaunt her Slytherin clothing items, a proud grin on her face.

“Fred...” Y/N dropped her head, taking her hand off of her daughter’s shoulder, “Come on, we’ve been over this.”

“Over what?” Ariella piped up, slowly removing her scarf as if she was offending him, “Dad... were you... ashamed that I was placed in Slytherin?”

Fred sighed, avoiding eye contact with her and looking out the window at the slow snowfall. Ariella seemed to take this as a yes, and she dropped the scarf on the table with a defeated sigh.

“Ari, honey, it’s not —”

“It’s fine, I get it,” she scoffed, taking off upstairs with loud footsteps. Y/N flinched as the door slammed shut loudly, rattling the walls of the house. She picked up the scarf on the table, remembering how proud she was when she brought all of her stuff home to show her parents for the first time as well.

“Fred, you need to let this go,” Y/N said softly, not taking her eyes off of the scarf, “You can’t keep denying that she’s not in Gryffindor. I get it, every Weasley has been in that house, but she’s not just a Weasley. She’s a part of me too, and she’s taken after you in every other aspect — her hair, her attitude, her freckles, her laugh — why can’t you accept the fact that for once, she’s taken after me for something?”

Fred seemed to ponder her words. He had never thought about it that way. People always told him about how much she resembled him in every aspect, but it wasn’t often that people said that to Y/N. And now, she watched with pride as her daughter was placed in her old house. It was almost like she could finally see herself in her.

“You’re right,” Fred mumbled, “You’re completely right. Merlin’s beard, I’ve been an idiot.” He wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her into him, hugging her as if his action was louder than his words.

“You have to go tell her that, she’s the one who thinks you’re ashamed.”

Fred pulled away and sighed, running his hand down his face and nodding, “You’re... you’re right. I need to go talk to her. She needs to know that I am proud of her. I always will be. And... that her mum was the most badass Slytherin ever. She’ll take after you there.”

Y/N giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Go tell her that, Freddie.”

“Can you come with me?” his voice was barely above a whisper and Y/N nearly swooned at how desperate he was. Ariella was, no doubt, a daddy’s girl, so having her dad come around and reassure her would mean the world her.

“Of course, love,” Y/N placed a kiss on his cheek and the two of them walked upstairs. She knocked slowly on her door and once a quite ‘come in’ was heard, she opened it and looked down at her daughter. Ariella was sitting on her bed, reading ‘Hogwarts: A History.’

When she saw her parents walk in, both looking apologetic, she placed the book down and sat crosslegged, turning to face them.

“Your dad has something he wants to say,” Y/N nudged Fred forwards. He gave her a grateful nod and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry if you thought I was ashamed,” he started, “I was shocked when we got the letter saying you were in Slytherin, I won’t deny it. When I was at school, the Slytherin students were always cunning, mean, rushing around the halls looking for any reason to torment the people they saw. They cheated, they lied, and eventually, a lot of them ended up working for the Dark Lord. I guess that now, twenty years after my time, I’m still thinking about that side of Slytherin. But then, after I left school, I met your mum. And she changed my opinion completely.”

Y/N sat there in awe, listening to what he had to say.

“She was caring, smart, loyal, funny — everything I wouldn’t expect from a Slytherin. I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though you take after me in every aspect of your physical appearance, I’m glad that your heart is like your mother’s. I’m proud of you.”

Ariella was close to tears, and so was Y/N. She watcher her daughter flail her arms around her dad’s neck and hug him like her life depended on it. Y/N sat by the door, her hand over her heart, and a loving smile on her lips.

She watched the smile spread across Fred’s face as he hugged his daughter back, relieved she wasn’t mad at him.

Later that evening, after Ariella had gone to sleep, Y/N and Fred sat on the couch, wrapped in blankets and watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. Her head was leaning against his shoulder, and his head leaning against hers. His hand was on her thigh, rubbing slow circles.

“I love you,” he muttered quietly, “I’m so sorry for everything. I’ve really been an idiot.”

“You have, but it’s fine,” she giggled, leaning up to face him, “I still love you.”

And she really did, with all her heart.

Who knew these two were so perfect for each other?

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley one shots #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots

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kookicat · 4 years ago

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The Price of Peace pt2

So I wrote a second part to this fic-

Full thing is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907364/chapters/71064504

The Morning After

He wakes slowly, swimming up from sleep like he’s climbing through slowly setting cement. It clings to him, and if he wasn’t in dire need of a piss and a drink, he’d give in, let it pull him back under because he hurts all over. He bites back a groan and focuses on his breathing, falling into the old exercises easily, until some of the pain eases. His face is the worst, the hairline fracture in his cheek throbbing like a bad tooth. In fact, it’s making the entire side of his face hurt and he lifts a shaky hand, feeling the heat and swelling and realises belatedly he should have iced it before he passed out. They have instant ice packs, somewhere, but he doesn’t feel up to hunting though three rooms to find them.

He drops the footrest on the recliner and sets his feet on the floor, bracing his ribs with his bad arm as he levers himself upright. Moving lights up his ribs and shoulder like he’s dropped a match in a box of fireworks; all bright flashes and pain burning along his nerves. The room spins violently and he closes his eyes, hanging onto the chair with all the strength he has left, because he’d rather shoot himself in the head than pass out and have one of the team find him. Probably in a puddle of piss too, he thinks sourly and lets out the unsteady breath he’s been holding.

The dizzy spell passes and he shuffles towards the bathroom, feeling three times his age. His knees ache with every step. He pees and moves over to the sink, washing his hands before turning on the little light and examining his battered face critically in the mirror. He’s looked worse, he’s sure, but he damn well can’t remember when. The skin over his cheekbone is black with bruising, puffy from the swelling that covers his whole eye socket. What isn’t bruised is pale and faintly clammy until he soaks a washcloth and wipes his face. He opens his mouth, carefully, feeling the click deep inside of his jaw he didn’t have before the fight, and runs a finger over his teeth.

Nothing seems to be wrong, but he knows he’s probably going to have to visit his dentist when he gets back home. It’s all part and parcel of the life, but sometimes- especially deep in the AM, when he’s hurting and exhausted and sleep is eluding him, he wishes he had a different job. Something that doesn’t leave him littered with bruises and other people’s blood. Something clean, but he knows he left any chance of that behind him a long time ago and there’s no use pining for things you can’t reclaim.

Someone has left a fresh hoodie and pair of sweatpants on the vanity and while he’s desperate for a shower, he knows he’s not quite steady enough to risk it for now. The thought of falling on his ass in the shower makes him wince for multiple reasons; he’d probably never live it down, for a start. The small gesture touches him though, brings a fleeting smile to his lips before he turns the light off and eases the door open.

Sophie is curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, eye mask firmly in place, blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon. She stirs as he passes the bed, shoving at the mask with one hand so she can squint at him. “Eliot?” she asks, sounding sleepy, confused, then sits up as the events come back to her, smoothing her hands over her hair to bring it to some kind of order. “How are you doing? Why are you up?”

He blinks at the rapid fire questions. “Yes, fine and needed to use the facilities,” he says dryly and hopes like hell it’s too dark for her to get a good look at him, because once she does, that lie is going to sink faster than a lead balloon.

She reaches for the lamp and switches it on, and he knows he’s blown. He curls his injured arm around his ribs as she runs her gaze over him, frowning. “You call this fine?” she asks, but there’s no anger in her words, just a tired sort of resignation that’s somehow almost worse. “Sit back down, I'll get you an ice pack and the pills the Doc gave you. "

He retreats to the recliner, grabbing a spare pillow off the bed and taking it with him. It hurts to lower himself back down and he bites the inside of his lip, holding a heartfelt groan inside. He folds the pillow and rests his bad arm on it, taking some of the strain off his shoulder which helps, then hits the button to raise the footrest and braces himself, twisting so he’s curled on his good side. The movement whites out the room for a long couple of seconds and when he blinks back to awareness, Sophie is standing next to him, hands full of supplies, eyes full of worry.

“I’m-” - fine, he starts to say, then closes his mouth because he’s pretty sure they both know it’s not even vaguely true. Spit pools in his mouth as the nausea from earlier comes back and he gulps, taking small breaths to settle his stomach, but it’s no good.

Sophie gets the trash can under his chin just in time as he retches, bringing up what little he has in his stomach. It fills him with agony; jolting his ribs, his shoulder, making his head throb so badly he wishes it would just fall off and put him out of his misery. If he had the breath, he’s pretty sure he’d be groaning right now. The worst of it passes and he flops back against the seat, utterly drained.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely, swiping an unsteady hand over his mouth, probing his lip which is bleeding again. He presses the side of his thumb against it and lets his breathing settle.

“You did the same for me,” she says, and takes the trash can into the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. “It’s about time I got to return the favour.”

He intercepts her hand as she tries to wipe his face, taking the cloth gently, because the thought of anyone touching him right now makes his stomach clench in a knot. “The bad clams,” he says faintly and wipes his mouth.

“You did try to warn me.” She shakes her head, holding back a laugh. “What do you need, Eliot?”

It’s stupid, after everything they’ve been through, but he feels awkward asking for stuff. “Can you grab my bag?” he asks, because he keeps a kit in there for just this situation.

“Of course.” She presses a bottle of Gatorade into his hands, along with the bottle of pills the doc gave him. He glances at the label; it’s a combined muscle relaxant and painkiller that he’s taken before. The full dose knocks him out, and that sounds like a blessing right about now.

His stomach rolls at the thought of drinking anything, but he knows that he needs the fluids and cracks the top on the bottle, swallowing a single mouthful to see if it’ll stay down. It makes him feel a little queasy, but there’s no sign it’s going to come back up, so he swallows another mouthful, then closes the cap, resting his head against the chair, knowing he needs food before he can take any pills.

“Here.” Sophie leans his bag on the arm of the chair, then reaches down to pick up the discarded blanket, shaking it out over his legs. Neither of them had bothered to change the room’s air con setting, and it’s chilly.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and digs into the bag, pulling out a pack of plain crackers and a box of Zofran. He lets the bag slide to the floor and jams the bottle between his hip and the chair so he can open the box of Zofran, popping out a tablet. He swallows it with a sip of Gatorade, licking his lips. He needs food and sleep and the painkillers in equal measure so he tears open the wrapper around the crackers, pulling one out.

Chewing hurts, and he spends a fleeting second wishing he was home, with access to his freezer and the homemade soups he keeps stocked there. There’s a lemon chicken broth that would hit the spot right now, but he pushes the thought away and takes another bite of cracker, convincing himself it’s just as good. Once he’s swallowed the full thing, he fumbles open the box of painkillers and pops one out, washing it down with a mouthful of Gatorade that tastes more like chemicals than the fruit punch it claims to be.

Sophie is dozing on the sofa, hair in her face, body curled into a ball. It makes him smile, because it’s rare to see her with her guard down. They’re alike in that way, though she hides behind masks, slipping through personas with an ease that unnerves him occasionally. He hides his true self behind a carefully curated image, letting people see what they want, the hitter, the easy mark, letting them underrate him so he can get in close for the sucker punch. He’s let a lot of that go, since joining the team, but it’s so ingrained now it’s a conscious effort most of the time.

He yawns, putting an end to his mental rambling, and shifts, already feeling the drugs getting to work. There’s still a good couple of hours before morning, when he has to pick himself up, drive the mask back into place and be the Eliot they all need him to be; unflappable, untouchable. It’s a heavy mask to wear sometimes but it’s a weight that he’s well used to carrying now, and it’s one that gets lighter for every month he spends with the team. They can carry each other, fill the gaps. Together they’re whole, and that’s a damn comforting thought. It brings a smile to his lips as he closes his eyes and lets himself rest.

#the tap out job #leverage #eliot spencer #eliot whump #whump #episode tag #part two #sophie devereaux #hurt/comfort #friendship #hurt eliot spencer #eliot spencer whump

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poisoned-monkey · 5 years ago

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Here is my gift for @askdaponies16 for the Saiouma winter exchange!

Ao3 link: Here

or read it below!

Towards the middle of the night, Shuichi was awoken by a chill prickling across his body and muffled sounds of coughing. It took him a few seconds to really register what he was hearing. When he realized the sound was coming from beside him, he became much more aware. He sat up from bed and ran a hand through his hair as he looked over at the body next to him.

Kokichi was sitting up in bed with all the of the covers pulled around him. When he noticed Shuichi, he gave him a small smile.

“Good morning?” He tried before he started coughing again, speaking seeming to agitate his throat.

Shuichi peered over at the clock that blinked back at him with the numbers 3:00.

“Technically that’s correct.” He stifled a yawn before he turned his full attention to the other.

“What’s wrong?”

Kokichi pulled the covers over his face, muffled through the thick cloth, he replied quietly, “Nothing.”

Shuichi paused, not convinced in the slightest. “Really?”

“Someone must have left the AC on.”

He reached under the blankets to feel Kokichi’s forehead, who startled under his touch.

“Geez Shuichi, your hands are cold as shit!” He swatted weakly at the aforementioned appendage.

“You’ve got a fever.” Shuichi deadpanned, pulling the cover back so he could see him. A bit of worry sparked in him, as he looked at Kokichi’s flushed face.

“I’m fine. You’re, like, overthinking it or something.” He muttered, with no real intent behind any of his words. He rubbed at his nose and wiped it on the covers.

Shuichi reached over for the tissue box they kept by the bed and plopped it into the other’s lap. Kokichi glared up at him but accepted the tissues anyway.

“I’m going to get you some medicine.” Shuichi said firmly, moving towards the door. Kokichi’s hands shot from under the covers with the speed no sick person should possess. He latched onto the corner of Shuichi’s shirt as hard as he could.

“M’fine. I feel like a crisp dollar bill, not even bent once,” He said, not relenting his grip even as Shuichi put his free hand on top of the one that grabbed him. Kokichi’s skin was clammy against his own.

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m okay. Just don’t…go,” The words came out of Kokichi’s mouth uncertain and stunted.

Shuichi looked at him in surprise, a bit off put by the quiet request.

He placed his free hand on top of Kokichi’s and gave him a smile. “I’ll just be gone for a second, okay? I promise.”

Kokichi scrutinized his face for a few seconds, searching for any hint of a lie before he dropped his hands with a pout.

“Hurry up or whatever,” he said as he covered himself back up in blankets. Shuichi nodded. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

As promised, Shuichi returned shortly carrying medicine, a glass of water, and an extra blanket. He sat down on the bed and wordlessly offered the medicine and water to Kokichi, who took it slowly.

“This should help with the fever and coughs,” He assured.

Kokichi knocked back the pills and the whole glass of water quickly.

“Ewww,” he stuck his tongue out at Shuichi before he reached up and rubbed at his eyes. “Lets just go back to bed, yeah?” Kokichi said tiredly.

Shuichi agreed and tossed the extra blanket over Kokichi as they both settled back in. Kokichi cuddled close and Shuichi just hopped that’d he’d feel better by tomorrow.

Morning came early to Shuichi as his daily alarm went off. Kokichi whined beside him and put the pillow over his head.

Shuichi obliged and sat up as he turned the alarm off. Kokichi was almost immediately back to sleep so Shuichi figured he’d go ahead and let him rest for the morning.

Time passed but Kokichi was still sleeping. Shuichi tried to wake him up a few times but he was just told to go away. It seemed that he still felt bad.

As the sun started setting, Shuichi got a phone call. It was Kaito, wondering about the plans we made prior.

“Sorry, Kokichi has come down with something. I don’t think we’ll be able to come to the New Year’s party.”

“Well, tell the gremlin that I hope he feels better, I guess. We‘ll make sure that we eat enough for the both of you at the party!”

Shuichi laughed. “Thanks for the thought, Kaito. I need to go check up on him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“See you later man!”

Shuichi hung up the phone with a sigh; he figured he might as well put on something for dinner. He wasn’t really the cook in this relationship but he was gonna try his best.

When he turned around, he was met with a scowling Kokichi, a blanket wrapped around him. He could tell that Kokichi was mad but it was a sort of hard to take him seriously when it seemed as if a strong breeze could knock him over.

“Why did you cancel our plans?”

“Because you’re sick,” Shuichi said as he reached a hand over to his forehead. “you really shouldn’t be out of bed-“

Kokichi smacked it away.

“I’m fine. I want to go to the party,” He asserted. Kokichi could be pretty stubborn when he wanted to be.

Shuichi shook his head. “You aren’t fine. You had a pretty high fever last night,” He moved to go towards the kitchen, knowing that Kokichi would follow him.

“Jeez, Shuichi when did you become the liar in this relationship. I was totally okay last night!” Kokichi trailed after him as expected, a bit unsteady on his feet.

“We both know that’s a lie. Besides we can celebrate at home,” Shuichi said, opening the cabinets and trying to parse together which pan one would make soup in.

“That’ll be boring. There’s no fireworks at home.” He said as he warily eyed what Shuichi was doing. He took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Well, we’ve got other things.” Shuichi held two pots in his hands and went with the bigger one. Now for the ingredients, the trickiest part.

“Like what?” He queried, still being obstinate.

Shuichi paused and turned around to smile at Kokichi. “First of all, I could bring out the kotatsu,”

They should have gotten it out way sooner than now but they had both been busy with work and whatever Kokichi filled his days with.

At the mention of the kotatsu, Kokichi’s eyes sparkled but he quickly hid the expression away. He held up a finger, “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll take you up on your offer but only if we order take-out tonight.”

Shuichi stopped again and offered him a sheepish smile. “I found this good recipe online? It should turn out fine-“

Kokichi shook his finger “Onllllly. If we order take-out,”

He put the pots and pans down with a sigh. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Ouma,” Shuichi offered his hand out to Kokichi who grinned as he shook it.

“Naturally.” Kokichi cleared his throat as he stood up. “Now, I’m gonna go lie down on the couch because I feel like shit.”

Shuichi laughed, reaching for the phone.

It was a bit of a struggle dragging out everything for the kotatsu but it didn’t take too long to assemble.

Kokichi stretched across the wooden top like a cat. “Yep, this is the stuff.” Shuichi sat down across from him and nodded his approval. “We should have put this up way sooner, huh?”

“Definitely.” He said as he tilted his head into the table. Shuichi was glad he was feeling better enough to joke around.

“Now what? We already ate dinner,” Kokichi asked.

Shuichi hummed. “We could play some chess?”

“Ugh. That’s too boring,” Kokichi raised his head from the table with a sly smile. “I’ve got an idea.”

Kokichi got to his feet and headed over into the bedroom, his blanket trailing behind him. Shuichi raised a hand to stop him but he was already gone. He shook his head, even a sick Kokichi is a handful.

The boy returned moments later carrying an old gaming system and two controllers.

“Game night!” He announced proudly as he set to work on plugging the system in and changing the channel.

“But…we both know I’m no good at video games.” He tried helplessly but to no avail.

Kokichi laughed but started coughing as he did, he quickly recovered. “Just because you suck doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, dummy.” He shrugged a bit with a grin. “Besides I suck at video games too, so we’re even.”

“That’s-“

“A lie? Yep, I only play on hard mode so expect to get your ass beat.”

Kokichi sat down next to Shuichi under the kotatsu and handed a controller to him before he cuddled up as close as he could get. His nose was running a bit and he used the back of his sleeve to wipe it.

“Don’t get any funny ideas. I’m just trying to leech off all your warmth and take it as my own,” he said as his nose still ran.

Shuichi made a face at him as he passed over a tissue to the boy who took it begrudgingly.

“Well, I’m happy to give it the less fortunate,” Shuichi smiled as he noticed a slight blush appear on Kokichi’s face.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s start the game, I’m gonna be Kirby.”

They played like that well into the night. Shuichi struggling and Kokichi making it harder for him every step of the way but it was fun. Shuichi liked watching the other laugh at his two left thumbs.

As midnight rolled around, Kokichi was just about asleep, slumping into his side and halfheartedly pressing the buttons.

“Hey Kokichi?” He asked, putting down his controller.

“Yeah?”

“I know it wasn’t a perfect New Year’s, but I hope that you weren’t too upset about it.” Shuichi said, reaching for Kokichi’s controller who relinquished it fairly easily in favor of clinging onto Shuichi’s arm.

“I had a terrible time. Absolutely awful.” He mumbled into Shuichi’s sleeve as he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry to disappoint then,” Shuichi smoothed out the others bangs with a gentle hand.

“S’okay. It’s a lie,” Kokichi said before he settled fully into sleep.

Parting his bangs Shuichi, placed a kiss on his forehead as the clock struck twelve.

“Happy new year’s, Kokichi.”

#saiouwe2019 #danganronpa #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #my fanfic #fanfic

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kessielrg · 5 years ago

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[Ducktales 2017] Phantom Pain

Summary: She had once thought that being home would mean the pain would end- but in some respects, it only made things worse. [First Ducktales fanfic! And, I’ll admit, it’s a bit rough- but it is a lot longer than most oneshots I write, so...]

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,461 words

If you like the story, please considering buying me a coffee!

. . . . . .

I was a firecracker, baby, with something to prove;

But now I gotta contend with the living blues.

I could've missed it, I never knew;

Chain reaction but you're holding the fuse.

-Die Young, Sylvan Esso

. . .

Page 121 of the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook shows and states how one should go about amputating one of their own limbs. Of course, that doesn’t mean that you should go chopping off your buddy’s leg with no problem- but Della Duck was in a situation where she wasn’t going to chop her buddy’s leg off for the fun of it. Oh no, her situation was much, much worse.

It was all a funny story -probably to someone other than her right now- what with the 20-something duck under the wreckage of her crashed spaceship. It became quickly evident that she couldn't get her leg out from what force she could give in her position. Della looked from the looming exhaust to a piece of metal, still hot from the crash.

“Oh phooey...” she grumbled to herself. In order for her to get home, she could either bite the bullet or amputate her own leg. Of course, being part of the Duck-McDuck family meant that, even if you bit the bullet, you better spit it right back out and laugh.

Taking the piece of metal in her hands (and dropping it for a moment because of how hot it still was), Della carefully tried to measure where she would cut. It would be easier to go above the knee, right? Wincing at a moment for the anticipated pain, Della once more mumbled, “This is gonna smart...”

. . .

In present day, at the wee hours of 12:13 in the morning, Della Duck woke up with a start. A pain worse than any she could imagine was surging from her left leg.

“Ssssweet Yensid, that smarts!” Della cursed as threw her covers off to figure out what was wrong with her leg. For a moment, she stared at the spot in shock. Despite the persistent feeling of her leg being crushed, nothing was there. Her leg was just… gone.

And that was when she remembered everything.

Della flinched -more from the pain than in her own recollection- before starting to work herself up. She gave a small, dismal look to her handmade prosthetic leg, and with a hard sigh she put it on. Della got off of her bed to make the short journey to the bathroom. Even with the prosthetic on, the pain did not subside any- Della all put flinched every time she put her weight on it.

McDuck manor was awfully quiet tonight. Usually you'd hear someone (Donald, of course) snoring, but tonight? Nothing. Dead silence. Della didn't pay much mind, easily making her way to the bathroom and opening up the medicine cabinet for the pain killers. Moving like she was sleepwalking, Della unscrewed the top of the medicine bottle, took out a pill, and swallowed it without so much a sip of water. Placing her hands on the sink, Della gave a small sigh as the pain from her no longer existent left leg subsided.

“What is wrong with me?” Della asked herself. “I've never gotten phantom pains before.”

Shaking her head, Della closed the medicine cabinet and looked up at the wrong time to see her own reflection stare back at her. Della stood frozen as she and her reflection just looked at each other.

Slowly, her reflection started to put on a nasty grin. “Maybe it's because you're weak.” it taunted. “You're a bad mother, pilot, and now your poor planning is causing even more trouble for you. What were you even thinking that night, Della? Only an idiot would leave her only children behind and cause a ten year rift between her loving brother and uncle.”

“NO!” Della shouted before throwing a punch at the reflection. The glass from the mirror instantly shattered at the impact. When Della realized what she had done, she found herself once more in horror. Not knowing of what else to do, she backed out of the bathroom and quickly made her way back to bed.

Sleep did not come easy once her head hit the pillow again. When the first rays of light came through the window, Della rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. It didn't matter what direction she tossed and turned in, though. The phantom pain was gone but the overall feeling of something suddenly being missing remained. In a fit of frustration, Della got back up out of bed and started to make her way downstairs for breakfast.

Every step she took with her prosthetic seemed to mock her. By the time she got herself a bowl of cereal, Della almost looked like she was limping as she tried to avoid putting weight on the robotic leg. Finding herself a spot in the middle of Scrooge's comically large dining table, Della started to eat her breakfast in silence.

She didn't even notice Scrooge was eating too until he spoke up.

“Good morning Della.” Scrooge greeted with a smile. “Did you sleep well last night?”

She flinched. “No,” she admitted in a small voice, “Not really.”

Knowing this, Scrooge gave a curious tilt of his head. “Is it something I could help you with, lass?”

If she thought that delaying her answer would stop Scrooge from looking at her suspiciously, Della was dead wrong. Before Scrooge could press further, Mrs Beakley entered the dining room.

“Sir, if I may have a word?” the British bird questioned- no, demanded. Della almost had to hide the sigh of relief she gave as Scrooge turned his attention to Beakley.

“What's the matter Beakley?”

“The mirror in one of the guest bathrooms is shattered.” the housemaid informed him simply. “I'd suspect one of the kids, but it seems to have been deliberate. Unless my deductive reasoning skills are failing, I've come to the conclusion that someone came into the bathroom late at night, punched the mirror in rage, and managed to crack it.”

“But who would do that?” Scrooge wondered.

Knowing exactly who did it, Della stood up so quickly that she almost moved the table. “I should check on the kids!” she loudly declared before hurrying out of the dining room, leaving half a bowl of cereal there. Scrooge gave a confused eyebrow raise while Beakley folded her arms in suspicion.

“I have only one guess.” she told Scrooge with an eyebrow raise of her own.

. . .

“H-hey kids.” Della carefully greeted as she walked up to Louie and Huey. “What'cha doing?”

“Hey Mom.” Louie replied with a smile and half a wave. “We’re playing Webby’s version of football. Which means that at least one of us will probably die.”

“Of fun!” Webby cheered in the background. From where they were, Della could almost make out that something was in Webby's hands. With an amused glimmer in her eye, she asked her kids,

“Was she carrying…?”

“Fireworks? Yep.” Louie confirmed with a grin.

“They're used for when the winner reaches the goal post.” Huey explained. “I think...”

“You think?” Della repeated in confusion.

“Webby likes to change the way we play every time we play. At this point, calling it 'football' is a really horrible misnomer.”

“It makes her happy though.” Louie noted with a shrug.

“It does.” Huey agreed, giving a resigned sigh.

Della gave a smile at her boys before starting to say something, but was cut off my the sound of Webby's surprised scream. The three of them gave each other a worried glance before running off to help Webby. What they saw made Della stop dead in her tracks.

One of Webby's fireworks had gone off prematurely, knocking over an empty wooden crate. The crate had fallen on Webby's leg. Webby herself seemed more annoyed at the situation than anything else- using her free leg to kick at the crate.

“Would you hold still?” Dewey demanded as he tried to get the crate off of her. “You're gonna knock something else over.”

Huey and Louie ran over to help their brother get the crate off, but Della remained where she was. Sure, to the normal observer, it was just a minor scrape that Webby could easily walk away from. But to Della all she could see was herself. Trapped under the wreckage of her own ship, there was only one way out. Without any warning, Della let out a scream as a sharp pain shot through her body.

“Mom!” the boys (who had gotten Webby out, no problem) cried as Webby also declared, “Miss Duck!”

But Della couldn't hear them- the triggering feeling that her lost leg was being crushed felt far more real. Her mind moving too fast to truly think clearly, Della removed her prosthetic and sunk down to the ground- her hands covering the stub as if it were procuring blood.

She didn't know whose idea it was to lead her back to the mansion. When she regained some sense of reality again, Della found herself looking right into the eyes of Uncle Scrooge.

“Naw phooey.” she mumbled to herself as she tried to look away from the older duck. Scrooge's gaze only hardened as he put both hands on his cane.

“So you've been having phantom pains, dearie?” he asked her, not sounding at all sympathetic.

“No…!” she immediately denied. But in seeing Scrooge's hard glare, she relented to admit, “Yeah. Okay, maybe a little.”

“And I assume the broken mirror was your doing as well?”

“Yes sir...”

Scrooge straightened a bit more- Della well knew that the sign meant she was about to get an earful.

“Della Duck,” he started, “I don't know what's gotten into you, but you can't just go off the handle whenever you feel like it! So what if you're getting phantom pains now after all these years? You almost scared the children, for goodness sake! If you're having such a hard time with you lost leg, then...!”

“This isn't just about my leg!” Della shouted, surprising herself for a moment.

“Then what is it about, Della?” Scrooge demanded right back, slamming the bottom of his cane against the floor.

For this, Della quickly racked her brain for an answer. “I...” she faltered, “I don't know!” Tears started to well down as she finally admitted, “I don't know Uncle Scrooge! Maybe… Maybe I thought that once I got back everything would be normal again. Like, like our kind of normal. But… but it's not! The boys are eleven, and I know nothing about them! And… and Webby? She's adorable, but is she actually the forth triplet or am I really just missing an in-joke?! And I just can't… I don't know what to do Uncle Scrooge! This isn't just about my leg anymore- it's about my own family! I've left them, and I'm reminded of it every time I see their bright faces in the morning. Heck! I don't even have to do that! Just looking at this stupid robotic limb is enough to remind me just how much of a screw up I am! I failed as a mom, a pilot, and I just can't… I just don't know anymore, Uncle Scrooge...”

Tried as he could to keep a straight face, Scrooge could not stop his expression from softening.

“Oh Della,” he sighed as he put a hand on her shoulder, “It'll be alright. You're not meant to know everything, my dear. That's just how life goes- even in our family.”

“What should I do?” Della finally asked. “I hate this feeling.”

Scrooge tilted his head to the side as he thought something over. “I think I know someone you could see.” he informed her. “Someone other than that annoying mooch that Donald sees.”

“I guess you expect me to pay out of my own pocket, huh?”

Scrooge faltered for a moment before looking back up at her, a faint hint of determination in his eyes. “No.” he decided. “I'll cover whatever cost it takes to make sure you get the care you need.”

Della looked up at her distant uncle with tears forming around the corners of her eyes. Before she could even gather the words, she threw her arms around his neck in a tearful hug. The older duck paused for a moment before accepting the gesture.

. . .

The next day, Della was already starting to regret everything again. Scrooge had directed her to a physical therapy place that honestly looked like it was being operated out of someone's spare bedroom. The waiting room certainly felt that way, at least, with the ugly brown carpet, absolutely no windows, less than inspiring wallpaper with fleur-de-lis designs on it, those stupid and generic 'You can do it!' posters that Della thought mocked her just slightly.

Of course, she wouldn't even been here if she hadn't taken that stupid rocket for a joyride. Della flinched, her absent leg sending an absent signal to her brain that it needed be itched. It only served as a reminder. Now and forever, whenever that stupid amputated leg acted up, she'd be reminded of the ten years she couldn't get back. How she has to find her place in her own family again.

She didn't belong with her family, and she sure as heck didn't belong here.

“Are you my 3 o'clock?”

Della, snapping out of her thoughts, looked up at the person that talked. There is front of her was a toon dog with dark colored fur, sparkling green eyes, and an incredibly infectious smile.

“I guess so...” Della agreed with a small grumble. The physical therapist did not lose her bright attitude as she gestured for Della to follow her. But the duck hesitated. Her hesitation did not go unnoticed by the PT.

“If you're overwhelmed, that's okay.” the dog lady told Della in a calm voice. “Today is all about getting to know you- all that awful stuff you hear about physical therapy will come later after we figure out your personal care plan. I'm not going to lie, it's going to be incredibly painful and frustrating. But you can bite the bullet any time you want to. Physical therapy is all about you and getting to know your body.”

Della turned her gaze away from the physical therapist for a moment. She could bite the bullet at any time, you say? Scrooge might not like it, but who was he to dictate what she did with her own life? Besides, she was a Duck-McDuck, when one of them bit the bullet, they were expected to spit it back out and laugh.

And, oh boy, how did Della like to laugh.

#ducktales #della duck #ducktales 2017 #scrooge mcduck #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #ducktales fanfiction #i've got a sequel planned #hopefully a multi-chapter story #it involves della's relationship with the physical therapist #because della needs more friends #dt17

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mama-m1na · 5 years ago

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ICUAMC: Chapter 1

~~~I~~~

It was an exciting night for the group of six as they gathered around a fire on top of an empty hill that looked over a suburban area of their hometown.

“I still can’t believe that this was the hilltop that was on fire two years ago,” the only male in the group said as he sat down on a blanket that was laid on the ground.

“Yep, well the scorch marks are still here so you best believe it,” an eighteen-year-old ravenette spoke as she gestured towards the exposed frame of what used to be a building behind them.

“You know it’s pretty cold for fucking July in southern California,” muttered a Mexican with short brown hair and green eyes as her teeth chattered with a cooler breeze.

“I thank the heavens for that, otherwise I would be complaining to no end,” the ravenette replied as she looked down to her outfit consisting of a black tank top, red shorts and brown ankle boots for the climbing.

“Shut the fuck up, Mina, you were literally born in the snow,” snapped the brunette as the other females let out small chuckles.

“Nope, I was born in a hospital where my mother kept pissing off the doctor while she was in labor,” she shrugged, taking her own seat closer to the edge of the hill.

“So when are the fireworks starting?” a dark skinned female asked as she lay across another blanket, looking at her phone.

“They should be starting soon I mean the sun is already down,” the youngest of the group spoke as she checked her phone.

Just then the first bang was heard as the group looked up to see multi colored lights in the sky.

A few hours later the fireworks were all done and the group were all ready to go to sleep with their sleeping bags laid out.

“Ramen, are you sure you don’t want to wear pants?” Callum asked as he worriedly looked over at the ravenette who was still sitting by the edge of the hill, “It’ll get colder and I know how weak your immune system is.”

“I’ve been taking my supplements, I’ll be fine,” chirped the female as she looked over the city and up at the stars, “It’s really pretty up here. I don’t know why we haven’t come up here before, it’s pretty close to my house too.”

“Holy shit, shooting star!” she exclaimed, jumping up to get a better look at the sky.

“What? Where?” the darkette asked as she opened her phone to the camera with the clock reading 11:59.

Looking up Callum’s eyes widened before he exclaimed, “Rhamina, look out!”

However, it was too late.

The ravenette turned over her shoulder to see a light flying straight towards her and when it made impact she was thrown off balance, sent tumbling down the steep slope as the clock struck midnight.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as the females only watched on in shock, “Don’t just sit there, call 911!”

Already on the dial pad Kerstin started dialing only to be struck by something similar, knocked unconscious on impact.

“Kerstin!” the brunette called as she cradled her sibling only to be struck as well.

“Callum, what’s happening?!” the youngest female cried as she clung to the male’s arm as the dark skinned female was struck.

“I don’t kn-” Callum was cut off as he too was struck and so was the girl before she could even let out a word.

The ravenette’s eyes twitched as she was slowly brought out of her sleep by a warm breath on her face.

She let out a groan as she rolled onto her left side to avoid the annoyance, feeling pain from all over her body.

Finally opening her eyes, Rhamina slowly began to recollect what had happened to her.

“Fuck,” she hissed as she sat up only for her head to start pounding before she reached up to feel something sticky.

Pulling her hand back she saw it was red and she looked down at the rest of her self to see multiple bruises on her very exposed skin, but what concerned her the most was the large gash running down her left calf.

The ravenette let out a huff of frustration when she realized that she had left her hoodie up on the hill so she had nothing to even try to stop the bleeding with.

A soft nudge to her back had the girl turn around faster than she should have as she was met with the sight of an animal that should not have existed.

It stood on all fours with a black body covered in white fur. It had a ruff around its neck and chest and a tuft on the top of its head adorned with a single blue-black oval. It had a feline face with almond-shaped, red eyes full of curiosity, a scythe-like tail, and a crescent shaped horn on the side of its head. Its broad feet were equipped with three claws each, and spikes protruded from the heels of its hind legs and elbows of its front legs.

Rhamina’s breath hitched in her throat as it approached but she made no move to escape, not like she could with the state she was in.

Once it got close enough she slowly raised her hand in front of her with her palm up with the creature watching her the entire time.

It leaned out to sniff her hand before giving small licks at her wrist causing the female to giggle before ruffling the fur on top of the creature’s head.

After a few more moments to collect herself the ravenette attempted to stand only to crumple back to the ground upon putting pressure on her left leg.

The creature looked down at the female in worry as she sat back up while moving hair out of her face.

“This sucks ass,” she smiled before trying again only to get the same result, this time with fresh blood running down her leg.

With a distressed cry the animal placed one of its front paws on her uninjured leg and looked her straight in the eyes.

‘Stay here and don’t try that again,’ a male voice spoke in the female’s head causing her to stiffen and look around before her gaze stayed on the creature.

“Was that you?”

It nodded before jumping into a bush only to return a few moments later with the ravenette’s purse.

“Nice! My phone should be in there!” she chirped as it dropped the bag at her side.

Finding the said device she clicked the power button to see that it had thirty percent of its battery left.

Going through her contacts she immediately picked Callum’s contact and put the device to her ear.

“Hello?” a groggy voice asked after the phone rang about three times.

“Callum? Thank god,” Rhamina sighed in relief, “Where are you guys?”

“We’re still at the top of the hi- Oh my god! Are you okay?” the male asked as he woke up some more and remembered what happened, “Where are you?”

“Well, from what it looks like, I’m just at the base of the hill but I can’t walk so I need some help,” the ravenette replied as the creature sat at her side.

“Alright, I’ll call for an amulance-” “No.” “Ramen, what do you mean, no? You just said you couldn’t walk,” the male sighed as he began to wake up the others.

“Yeah, but you can’t call an ambulance or police or anything like that,” the ravenette explained as she looked at the animal next to her, “I promise I’ll explain once you guys find a safe way to get down her, also could you bring my backpack please?”

“You better be alive by the time we get down there,” hissed the male before he hung up and the ravenette could feel the earful she was going to get when they got down there.

“I’m in danger,” she chuckled as she plopped her back onto the ground.

It took about twenty minutes of waiting until Rhamina heard the loud screams of Kerstin trekking through the bushes.

As soon as the females came saw the female and the creature next to her their jaws immediately dropped.

“Mina, why do you have a fucking pokemon?” the shortest and youngest female exclaimed.

“Mind your damn business, Chloe,” the ravenette retorted as she sat up, “Who has my backpack?”

“Don’t need an ambulance my ass, Rhamina!” Callum exclaimed as soon as he saw the blood on her leg upon coming out of the bushes before noticing the monochrome creature, “What the fuck is that?!”

“This is the one that got me my phone so I was able to call you, so please give me my backpack,” Rhamina requested upon seeing that the oldest of the group had her purple bag.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do about that, Rhamina, you need stitches,” Callum sighed as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I know,” the ravenette chirped as she pulled out one of her water bottles and began using it to rinse away any blood before pulling out a first aid kit to repeat the action with alcohol.

“Can I borrow someone’s lighter real quick?” she asked as she wiped down a needle with some alcohol.

“Are you really going to do it on your own?” Sam asked as Kerstin handed the ravenette the fire starter.

“Yep, I can’t really call an ambulance if I have this one cause that’ll look hella suspicious,” she continued as she ran the needle through the flame before wiping it down with alcohol again.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Callum asked as he looked down at the female.

“Kind of,” she spoke before starting to stitch the long gash while biting down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming.

“You actually did it,” Tijarah spoke with raised brows as the ravenette began to wrap her leg in a bandage to keep it protected and to provide support to help suppress some of the pain.

“Do any of you guys have pain killers?” the ravenette asked as Tijarah pulled out a pill bottle from her bag.

Rhamina reached out to take it with her left hand when Kerstin noticed something.

“Since when did you have tattoos, Mina?” she asked upon seeing the markings on the female’s arm in a dark shade of umber.

“Um, I didn’t, but I’m not really surprised considering an ominous ball of fucking light knocked me the fuck out and caused me to roll down that nice ass hill,” spat the ravenette as she took the two pills with the rest of the water she had, completely forgetting about the blood on her face.

“They look familiar though,” Kerstin said as she ruffled her hair, “Those are sigils you told me about, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, probably, but I’m not the only one with new shit,” Rhamina sighed as she stood up again, putting most of her weight on her right leg, “Y’all have new accessories if you didn;t notice so, let’s just get to the car for now so we can spend the rest of the day at my house like we planned to do.”

“Yeah, we have no idea where these came from and we literally cannot take them off,” Sam spoke as she looked down at the green leather bracelet on her right wrist.

Chloe had a white leather bracelet on her left wrist, Callum had a necklace with an orange stone pendant, Tijarah had a ring with a black band and green gem, while Kerstin had a black leather anklet with three red beads.

“Is that thing coming with us?” Tijarah asked eyeing Rhamina as she limped ahead with the creature next to her, matching her pace, “I don’t think we have room, I mean Chloe’s already sitting on someone’s lap.’

“Does it look like he’s going anywhere else?” came the blunt reply from the ravenette as she took out the keys to her truck, “We can put him in the back, people will probably think it’s a dog.”

“You are not driving like that,” Callum spoke, snatching the keys from the younger female as she looked up with a betrayed face, “You already got out of going to a hospital, you are not fighting me on this.”

The ravenette gave in as the group made their way back to the black pick up truck in which they drove to the hill in the first place.

After the group, except for Rhamina, loaded their things, the creature jumped into the back and laid down behind one of the walls as the others made their way into the vehicle.

The ride to her house took only about ten minutes but they were halted by a hooded figure stopping them on the side of the road.

Cautiously rolling down her window, Rhamina faced the figure and asked, “Did you need some help?”

“My how gracious are you, Holy Songstress, and all of you, Chosen Warriors,” a scratchy voice spoke as the figure looked up to reveal the face of a woman with completely white eyes, “But it is not I who needs help.”

Rhamina turned to Callum who sat next to her in the driver’s seat but shook her head when his grip tightened on the wheel.

“You,” the crone spoke pointing right at the ravenette, “Are not complete. Now, young one, take this and complete your battle.”

With that last sentence the woman shoved an ornate book into her hands before dashing away.

“What the fuck?” Tijarah cussed in bewilderment as Callum merely continued driving to the house, “What did she give you?”

“A locked journal, I guess?” the ravenette replied as she eyed the three digit lock before turning the dials to read ‘666.’

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Callum asked as he looked down with his peripherals.

“It’s worth a shot,” Rhamina shrugged as she pressed the button and by some miracle, it opened.

“Fuck!” she cackled as the others looked over her shoulder to see the lock opened.

“Who the fuck sets their password as ‘666’ on a diary?” Callum asked as he parked in the ravenette’s open garage.

“Me, Bitch,” chirped as she opened the door and hopped down only to wince when she landed on the injured leg that she had forgotten about.

“Idiot,” Sam snickered only to trip as soon as she took one step on solid ground.

Rhamina raised a brow before opening the bed of the truck to let the new creature down and followed behind her friends to enter her home.

As the girls and Callum settled themselves in the living room, Rhamina took her normal spot in the cover of one of the couches, but this time she had the creature taking up the spot next to her causing Chloe to glare.

“Hoot,” she spoke in a low tone causing the ravenette to look at her.

“Why are you anger hooting?” Rhamina asked as she looked up from the page she was reading in the book.

“Hoot,” she glared at the creature who merely blinked as it��s head was in the ravenette’s lap.

“Chloe, he’s literally done nothing to you,” sighed the female as Chloe reluctantly sat on the other side of the creature.

“So what’s in the book?” Kerstin asked as the ravenette turned a page.

“Looks like their old magic songs?” Rhamina replied as an envelope fell into her lap.

Upon opening it and reading the contents the ravenette clasped her hands in front of her face before taking a deep breath.

“No,” she exhaled.

“What did it say?” Tijarah asked as she looked from scrolling on Netflix.

“Well, lemme just,” the ravenette started as she picked the paper back up, “Dear Lightning Thief Hono no Rozen, Flame Wizard Akemi D. Sora, Red Death Cole, Rogue Knight Ceth, and Holy Songstress Kitsami, I write this in hopes that you have finally awoken to your true states of being. As you are likely to notice, the songstress is missing her relic and in order to save this world unlike your first, it must be retrieved. To find the Soul Gem, you must either quell or defeat the beast lurking in the place of ancients.”

“Um, what the fuck?” Callum asked as he snatched the paper from the female’s grip while the creature looked up at the ravenette, “Did any of you talk about our Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.”

“Not at fucking all,” Rhamina sighed, “But I guess this kind of makes sense with our slight physical changes like my new tattoos and the fact you can’t take those things off. They must be your relics.”

“Oh, yeah because someone cursed them to us,” Tijarah scoffed.

“Y’all know you would have lost them or sold them for gold,” Rhamina retorted with a sneer, “We couldn’t have that happening.”

“That’s why that fucker looked familiar!” Kerstin exclaimed as she pointed at the creature, “That’s fucking Neo!”

The creature let out a small noise before resting his head back in the female’s lap.

“I mean, I heard his voice earlier so yeah,” the ravenette shrugged, not really perturbed at the assumption.

“So we need to get your relic then?” Callum asked once he finished reading the letter, “Where even is this shit?”

“Pechanga,” Tijarah spoke returning her attention to the television screen, “I mean that tribe was known as an ancient people.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam started, “So do we have our powers or some shit?”

“Someone test it,” Rhamina shrugged.

That statement was a massive mistake.

The group ended up destroying a neighbor’s backyard but no one had to know it was them, right?

“So, when can we get a chance to go to Pechanga then?” Callum asked, “It would be pretty sketchy if we all just went to a casino even though I’m of age.”

“Well, there is a music competition next week and we do have a bard in our party,” Kerstin sung as she pulled up an online flyer next to a smirking Sam.

“Um, fuck no, I can no do that in front of people,” Rhamina uttered as her Filipino accent began to slip through into her words.

“We’re not saying you do it alone,” Sam mused as she draped herself across the taller ravenette, “Do you still remember ‘Moondance?’”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, Hitomi has been working on the piano parts and we can have Chloe on drum set, Tijarah with her clarinet, Callum on alto sax, I can be on upright bass, and we can have you doing vocals then when the trumpet solo comes up just switch,” the brunette suggested, “It might be the only legitimate chance you get to convince your parents, Mina.”

“That is true, Rhamina, your parents are really stingy about you leaving the house,” Callum said, “Just send me the sheet music and tell me when we can do a group practice.”

“Same,” Tijarah spoke the same time as Chloe.

“What am I going to be doing then?” Kerstin asked.

“Learn how to control your damn fire,” Tijarah scoffed, looking up from her spot on the floor, “You were lucky Mina was next to the hose otherwise that pomegranate tree would be non-existent.”

“So, Hitomi said we can practice at her house starting tomorrow,” Sam said after texting the high school junior.

“Fuck, that means I might see Umi,” groaned Rhamina as she thought to the male with long silver hair who always glared at her with his bright brown colored eyes.

“You guys still don’t get along?” Callum asked, remembering how the ravenette would constantly be picked on by a male her age during his last two years of high school.

“Nope, at this point he’s really just confusing,” the ravenette muttered thinking to their most recent interactions, “I mean literally towards the end of the semester I tried to apologize for the times when I would snap at him and he just scoffs at me calls me scum, you know the usual, but then when I come back after being gone for two days, covered in bandages after I got jumped walking back from the bus stop, he yells at me for being stupid and then proceeds to follow me everywhere for the next week… I fucking won that fight by the way people need to learn that I am not a good target to jump.”

“I would have thought that he would have given in by now,” Callum commented as he laid further back into the couch.

“I know, they usually cave after a month or two,” Tijarah replied.

The next day Rhamina rolled out of bed and went through her normal morning routine but this time she had a companion following her through the various steps of her day.

Her family had already gone off to work and they knew she had somewhere to be so when it approached the meeting time she merely took put her trumpet in the back of her car and told her familiar to guard the house while she was gone.

The entire drive the ravenette had a small frown on her face as her rip on the wheel became tighter upon approaching the much larger house.

She had been there before to support the younger female in her recitals but that didn’t make her anxiousness recede any further.

Rhamina parked in front of the house and began walking up the stairs with a slight limp, noticing that Kerstin’s car was parked across the street.

When she knocked on the door, the ravenette could only pray as she waited for someone to open the door and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding when it was the mother of the four siblings in the house.

“Hello, Mrs. Tanaka,” she greeted, “It’s good to see you.”

“Rhamina, it really is,” the woman replied with a kind smile as she opened the door wider, “Come on in, your friends are waiting.”

“So, how have you been?” she asked as the eighteen-year-old followed in after taking off her shoes and leaving them in a cubby by the door.

“I’ve been fine, we went out to watch the fireworks and I may or may not have tumbled down a large hill,” chuckled the female honestly as they came into the living room where the others were already setting up around a large grand piano.

“Is that how that happened to your leg?” the woman asked as she gestured to her calf which was wrapped with fresh bandages.

“No comment,” Rhamina said as she sat down and began setting up her trumpet and warming up with the other winds.

About half way into the practice Rhamina was sitting at the piano with the brown haired Hitomi as she read over the piano part for their piece and they were enjoying the time until the ravenette felt a familiar glare.

“What are you doing here?” the male voice hissed as she turned around with a sigh.

“Hello, Umi,” she greeted while standing to return to her brass instrument, “I’m here to practice for the competition and I’m so sorry that you had to see my face after we graduated.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance before he noticed the bandage wrapped around her left calf.

“What happened to you?” he asked in a notably softer tone which caused the ravenette to glare.

‘There he fucking goes again,’ she thought with a glare as she bit her lip before replying.

“Nothing.”

Callum watched the two recently graduated teenagers bicker back and forth when he realized something.

“You guys see it too right?” he asked as all the others watched as insult bounced from mouth to mouth.

“Yep, the only one who doesn’t is her,” Tijarah spoke as Sam took out her phone to record.

“The way my brother acts doesn’t really help this situation,” Hitomi sighed as Chloe stood there anger hooting.

“Owl does not approve,” she hissed as the taller male took hold of the female’s left wrist.

“When did you get tattoos?” he asked with a raised brow as the ravenette silently fumed.

“Hun, I’m eighteen now, let me make my own decisions please,” she huffed, ripping her hand out of the male’s grip and turning back to her group, “Should we start at the top?”

The next few days were spent with the group practicing to get the song sounding decent together and when the night for the performance finally came they were ready.

Rhamina gazed at her reflection in the mirror she had in her room.

Her black hair was silky and flowing as she let it hang to its full length, coming to her upper thighs as her brown irises, speckled with golden flecks, gazed at the slightly uneven golden brown tones in her skin.

Her make up was done simply with just neutral shades of eyeshadow on her lids before a darker brown was placed in her crease. She had black winged liner and didn’t wear anything on her lips since she would be playing a wind instrument.

She wore a black, vintage styled top with a black a-line skirt with white polka dots that reached just past her knees and vintage styled heels with white bows on them.

When she was satisfied with how she looked the ravenette grabbed her black, Coach purse that was gifted to her by one of her richer relatives, and slung the strap of her trumpet case over her shoulder as well as the strap on the case of her lyre before she walked out the door with Neo on her heels.

Over the course of the week in which the group was training and getting used to their skills, they found that the relics allowed them to turn into their D&D characters physically and since the ravenette lacked her relic she would be in trouble on her own if they needed to fight anything that night, so they all decided it would be a good idea to let the death spirit whose physical appearance was inspired by a Pokemon, to join them that night.

It took about seven minutes for the female to reach Callum’s house where he sat in his car waiting for her to arrive.

“Ready to do this?” Callum asked as he looked to Rhamina who was sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

“I guess.”

Upon reaching the casino resort, a wave of anxiety washed through the ravenette as she stayed close to the older male while walking to the ballroom where the room where they would be performing in.

It was technically a ballroom, but it was set up with circular tables on the floor so audience members could eat while watching the performances.

Finding the rest of their group, the two swiftly made their way across the floor, sneaking Neo underneath the table they’ve chosen which was right next to the two tables the Tanaka’s occupied.

The other performances were quite entertaining to watch but there was one that made Rhamina’s mind start to wander into darker territory.

It was a thirteen-year-old Asian boy playing the violin and he was talented.

It was only a reminder to the ravenette of how she could never reach the level of a musician like that and served to dampen her mood entirely.

“Hey,” a male voice called, snapping the teen out of her thoughts, paired with the hand on her shoulder, “Are you brain dead or something? Your group needs to start heading back stage.”

“Huh? Oh, thanks, Umi,” the ravenette whispered before she stood, not even looking at him, and walking out of the room with her trumpet.

He watched on with a confused look before his head snapped forward.

“Ow, Haru!” he hissed rubbing the spot where his younger sister had whacked him on the head.

“Umi, you are a fucking idiot,” the red head hissed as she glared at the second child.

The silver haired male opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by his older brother sighing.

“Umi, I have to agree with Haru, you’ve been pining after that girl for years but have made no effort to actually do anything for her,” the taller male spoke in a deep voice with soft eyes, “She’s been trying to get close to you.”

“You think I even remotely like that idiot?!” the seventeen-year-old whisper shouted as the performers on stage exited, “Where did you pull that idea from?”

“Well, I think we’re about to be proven right,” Haru stated before pointing at the stage, “There she is.”

“And for our tenth and final group of the night we have the Chaos Troupe playing a rendition of ‘Moondance’ by Michael Buble,” the person introducing groups said as the group set up before he walked off stage to reveal Rhamina standing front and center behind a microphone stand with her trumpet on a stand next to her.

Looking back at the group, they all nodded at her before she pointed at Chloe who gave a quick count off before the two woodwinds came in for the intro.

It sounded slightly awkward without brass in the intro as well but many forgot about that as soon as the ravenette began singing.

“Well it’s a marvelous night for a moondance with the stars up above in your eyes. A fantabulous night to make romance, ‘neath the cover of October skies,” the ravenette sung, immediately swaying her hips to the swing beat laid down by the bass and drum set, “And all the leaves on the trees are falling to the sound of the breezes that blow, and I’m trying to please to the calling of your heart-strings that play soft and low.”

“And all the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush. And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush. Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love? Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?” she continued, eyes sweeping across the crowd, the song sitting in a lower range that the ravenette had trained to be smooth as warm caramel.

“Well I want to make love to you tonight. I can’t wait till the morning has come, and I know that the time is just right, and straight into my arms you will run,” Rhamina sung before finally making eye contact with Umi whose normally pale complexion was lit red, “And when you come my heart will be waiting to make sure that you’re never alone. There and then all my dreams will come true dear. There and then I will make you my own.”

“Anytime I touch you, you just tremble inside, and I know how much you want me that you can’t hide,” she sung as she got more comfortable on the stage, sending a testing wink towards the male, “Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love? Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?”

Haru smirked as she saw her older sibling gulp at the wink sent his direction while the female backed off from the mic to let the saxophone player have his solo.

“You alright, dear brother?” she asked, elbowing him, “You’re looking quite red.”

He only glared before the saxophone player sat back down giving way for Rhamina’s trumpet solo.

It was just as energetic as when she was singing but it still flowed beautifully and the passion the girl held could be heard through her instrument.

By the time the song ended everyone on stage was sweaty and trying to catch their breath as the room erupted in applause as they went to put things away.

“You did great, Hitomi,” Rhamina chirped as the group was putting their things away backstage.

“Um, thank you, Rhamina, you did amazing as well,” the younger brunette smiled, “I could tell my brother was impressed as well.”

“I highly doubt that,” the ravenette huffed with a small frown before they made their way back into the ballroom.

Rhamina could feel the gaze of the male which was normal but she couldn’t feel the same irritation or annoyance, it actually made her feel quite uncomfortable so she did her best to ignore it.

Suddenly, her chest felt tight and an audible growl came from Neo who was still under the table as the next performer walked on stage.

“Is it time?” Kerstin asked from her seat as she looked up at the woman’s glowing blue eyes.

“Yeah, cover your ears,” Rhamina commanded loudly as the woman took in a breath.

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

~~~Fin. Chapter 1~~~

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Song Used: Moondance - Michael Buble

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#It Came Upon a Midnight Clear #original story #Chapter 1

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welcometothepenumbra · 6 years ago

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SECOND CITADEL – THE TREACHEROUS HEART

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? The Second Citadel.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

On the final night of the Festival of the Three, Amaryllis, herbalist of the Second Citadel, was kidnapped by a purple-cloaked monster of the swamp. But why?

(CHUCKLES) Well, we’ll soon find our Penumbra Express travels not only through space, but time as well. And so now we journey to the festival’s third morning, when Rilla returns from a long night to find an old friend waiting for her.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: the Treacherous Heart.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS, LEAVES RUSTLING. BRANCH SWISH.

SIR MARC: Ow!! Watch where you’re going, Dampierre! First you get lost in the jungle all night, then you drag me through every branch…

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

What do you mean, I’m driving? You’re the horse!

SOUND: SNORT. BRANCH THWAP.

Owwww!!

(SIGHS) Let’s just stop. I hate when we fight. And besides, I think we both know who’s at fault here: my brother. “Oh, Marc, the people of this village want to pay me to help them track an eight-legged wolf because their tracker was eaten by a cave! Ohhh, Marc, it can’t wait until you get your leg medicine because we’ve spent every last cent we have and we haven’t eaten in three days! Oh, Marc, I’m just a big worrying baby-person who—” (WINCES)

SOUND: WHINNY.

No, I’m fine; I’m fine. Just– my leg. Hold still while I get the medicine.

SOUND: GULP. PANTING.

Though… Tal might’ve had a point. That was my last pill.

Maybe we should’ve factored in moving a little slower through the jungle without Talfryn around. Maybe… alright, Dampierre, keep it moving. The doctor will be in, and then it won’t matter how lost we were. In the nick of time is still on time, right?

SOUND: SNORT.

We’re close to her hut, at least. There’s the tree Talfryn used to climb – you remember. And the rock I’d train on, and… a gigantic dead rat. Huh. Looks like someone had fun here last night.

MUSIC: ENDS.

SOUND: WHINNY.

Oh, stop it. There’s nothing in this forest we can’t handle. You’ve been too jumpy since that Rattle-Panther broke one of your ribs. Why worry? You must have two hundred more of them rolling around in there.

SOUND: SNORT.

Oh, thirty-seven, two hundred, what’s the difference.

(SNIFFS) Oh, do you smell that, Dampierre?

SOUND: SNORT.

Not the rat, the food! It’s the third morning of the Festival. If we move quickly, we should be able to get some leftover fish skewers from Saint Damien’s feast last night. And tonight, there’ll be Saint Ferdinand’s fireworks! Tal is going to be so jealous! Oh, and there’s her hut! Finally!

RILLA: Finally home. Saints, that was a long night.

MARC: There she is! Rilla!

SIR DAMIEN: Yes, long, but– well, enjoyable, I thought? You had a good time, I hope?

MARC: There he is! Sir Damien!

RILLA: I had a good time, Damien. I’m just tired.

DAMIEN: Tired? Have I tired you?

RILLA: No, actually, staying up all night at the festival made me tired. Weird, right?

DAMIEN: Yes, yes, that makes sense.

I enjoyed dancing with you beneath Saint Damien’s bells. I will… always treasure that.

RILLA: I won’t.

DAMIEN: Ex– excuse me?

RILLA: I’m only going to treasure it until tonight, when I see you again. Then we’ll do something much more interesting than two-step underneath a gong.

DAMIEN: But– my duel tonight…

RILLA: After your duel. You’ll win, Damien. You always win.

DAMIEN: But if I don’t… promise me you’ll remember me for last night? Dancing beneath the bell? Not—

RILLA: Fine, I promise. Now go. I want to sleep.

DAMIEN: Of course. Farewell, my love.

RILLA: Have a good day, Damien.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

(SIGHS)

SOUND: DISTANT THUD.

MARC: A little overly dramatic, don’t you think? “Farewell, my love! Begads, my precocious heart! My soul doth wrack atwainder!”

SOUND: SNORT.

I am not being rude. You’re being rude. Just– go, I can feel myself getting sicker. (FAKE-COUGHS)

SOUND: HOOFBEATS. KNOCKING.

RILLA: (THROUGH THE DOOR) We’re closed!

MARC: Not for long! Your favorite guest is here!

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

RILLA: Huh, he was right. Dampierre, how are you?

MARC: Rilla! Am I ever happy to see you. Aren’t you going to invite us in?

RILLA: (SIGHS) Marc, I’ve had a long night. Get a room in the Citadel and I’ll talk to you and Tal tomorrow.

…Where is Talfryn?

MARC: Oh, he doesn’t matter. I’ve been riding for days to see you, Rilla! You must have a couple of minutes for your best friend.

RILLA: I already said hi to Dampierre.

MARC: (LAUGHS) Careful; if you keep joking about that, I might start to think it’s true.

RILLA: Marc, I’ve had a long night—

MARC: Oh, come on, you must have a minute to spare—

RILLA: —and I really don’t have it in me to hang out right now!

MARC: We’ve been together through thick heads and thin skin! Both mine, admittedly. I’ll just be a minute, we’ll get some breakfast and chat and—

RILLA: Marc!!

MARC: (QUIETLY) Ohh, she’s mad now.

RILLA: I just need to go to sleep, okay? I’m happy you’re here, really, but I need you to leave, now.

MARC: I… can’t.

RILLA: (SIGHS) You’re out of medicine.

MARC: In my defense, I haven’t been out for very long.

RILLA: (SIGHS) You have to take that three times a day, Marc. I told you not to wait until the last minute.

MARC: Oh, I know. I was supposed to arrive two days ago, but Dampierre got lost.

SOUND: SNORT.

We got lost.

SOUND: SNORT.

I got lost.

RILLA: Of course you did.

MARC: It was Talfryn’s fault.

RILLA: Sure it was.

Just stay there. I’ll make you enough for today, but then you’re coming back tomorrow, alright?

MARC: Yes, Rilla.

So… how’s Damien?

SOUND: BOTTLES CLINKING.

RILLA: He’s Damien. Writing poetry, fighting monsters, writing poetry about fighting monsters.

MARC: And that’s going… well?

RILLA: The poetry’s seen better days. He’s in the middle of sonnets phase, but at least it’s better than the odes.

SOUND: CLUNK.

MARC: And the monsters?

RILLA: They’re monsters! What do you want?

MARC: You just didn’t mention—

RILLA: Marc, do you mind? I can’t with you talking.

SOUND: SALT SHAKER SHAKING.

Alright… there’s the Salveroot, three grams of Woodworm, twenty ccs of Solution B, and…

SOUND: CLINK.

Where…?

MARC: Uh, Rilla? Something wrong—

SOUND: DRAWER OPENS & CLOSES.

RILLA: You’re kidding me. The Numbcap. I’m all out of Numbcap toadstools and it’s the most important component.

MARC: You’re out? That can happen?

RILLA: Well, it looks like it just did. This is why I tell you to come two weeks before you run out.

MARC: And stop everything I’m doing just because of a little pain?

RILLA: You know better than me that it’s not a little, Marc.

MARC: (UNDER HIS BREATH) I left a week ahead of time; that should have been enough. If my brother hadn’t abandoned me it would’ve been…

Well, no sense in regretting the mistakes of the past. Especially, since Talfryn isn’t here to apologize for them. I’ll just have to go out and get some mushroom myself. What’s it called? Dumbcap? Numbstool?

RILLA: Ugggghh.

You already got lost in the jungle once today, so I’m thinking the odds of you coming back before… next month are low. I wasn’t planning on getting another Numbcap on zero hours of sleep, but, I guess we’re going. Why not?!

MARC: Rilla, I-I’m sorry—

RILLA: If sorry takes time, I don’t want to hear it right now. Come on, follow me.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: BIRDS CHIRPING, INSECTS BUZZING.

SOUND: WHINNY.

MARC: Calm down, Dampierre. You’re shaking like a giant, four-legged leaf.

RILLA: He seems a little jumpy today.

MARC: His imagination has been too active ever since his injury. He needs a creative outlet or something.

SOUND: SNORT.

That’s just a bird! If you don’t get ahold of these nerves you’re going to start mistaking cuckoo-clocks for cockatrices! Sea bass for basilisks! Cameleopards—

SOUND: LOUD NEIGH.

Whoa! Whoaaaaa!!

Stop! Stupid– horse– stupid– Talfryn!

RILLA: You keep blaming this on Tal, Marc, but he’s not even here.

MARC: (GRUNTING) That’s the problem!

Talfryn’s the one who knows everything about all… this!

SOUND: SNORT.

RILLA: You’re pointing literally everywhere.

MARC: Outside! Forests, jungles, caves, that sticky thing next to the lake, what’s it called—

RILLA: Swamp.

MARC: Ew! But Dampierre won’t believe me when I tell him that these noises aren’t monsters. He’ll only listen to Tal, because Talfryn knows what he’s doing.

RILLA: So why isn’t he here, then?

MARC: Nothing important. He’s taken some job in a village nearby for food and money. (SPITS)

RILLA: (SIGHS) Being without your brother sounds pretty scary.

MARC: Why would I be scared? He’ll be back in a week, and then won’t he feel stupid.

RILLA: For… keeping you fed?

MARC: Let’s not talk about it anymore. Are we almost at the Numbcaps?

RILLA: Almost. We’ve been taking the scenic route. This part of the jungle is dangerous – monsters are always crawling out of the lake to the north of here.

MARC: And you come out here alone?

RILLA: Most of the time. Damien comes with me when he can, but, I’m not going to delay my experiments just because some giant lungfish decided to go for a walk.

MARC: That’s… specific.

RILLA: That was Wednesday.

MARC: Rilla!

RILLA: If I didn’t, you’d be… well, not good.

SOUND: HEARTBEAT.

Knights aren’t the only ones who have to get things done out in the jungle. I can take care of myself. So, relax. Just past these trees, there’s an open clearing with some old logs and stumps. The Numbcaps are small, so you usually have to dig a little to find them.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: WHINNY.

MARC: Rilla? I think we might have found the mushroom.

RILLA: That Numbcap’s the size… of a house.

MARC: Are you sure you should be getting so close to it? It’s making a… a noise.

RILLA: It’s never done that before.

MARC: It might be dangerous. Didn’t you say this jungle was dangerous?

RILLA: You’re right… it might be. Hey Marc, if I fall over suddenly, take some notes. I’m especially interested if my eyes change color.

MARC: Very funny.

SOUND: PAPER FLUTTERING.

Hey! What’s this?

MUSIC: ENDS.

RILLA: A notebook. I wasn’t kidding.

MARC: Rilla!

Go, Dampierre. We aren’t going to let her have all the fun.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

This is the Numbcap, then. But… bigger?

RILLA: It looks like. Noisier, too.

It could’ve mutated suddenly, I guess, but… this is… a lot.

MARC: Now you sound like Tal. Why can’t you make me medicine from normal things, like steak dinners and little cakes or, I don’t know, magic potions or something?

RILLA: If some hack in the Citadel tries to sell you a magic potion, Marc, throw it in their face and gallop away. There’s no evidence those things do more than get you drunk and turn your tongue blue.

MARC: That is pretty exciting, though.

RILLA: Their benefits aren’t reproducible! That’s what real medicine should be about. The sooner everyone gets over their superstitions and stops trying to stuff rosemary up their noses to keep the bogeyman away, the better.

MARC: Never had a head for medicine. Do have a Rilla for it, though.

RILLA: (CHUCKLES) Unlike a magic potion, the Numbcap works every time. You feel the pain in your legs, but your condition’s in your brain, Marc. You need a something that directly blocks the pain receptors up there, and Numbcap’s the only thing I’ve found that does it the way you need.

SOUND: LEAVES CRINKLING.

Interesting. The texture of the mycelia seems normal, but… the smell is strange, and the sound…

SOUND: SWORD UNSHEATHING.

MARC: Ugh, I’ve had enough of this. Hyah!

SOUND: SLASH. THUD.

RILLA: Marc!

MARC: I can’t keep watching you touch it. It makes my skin crawl.

RILLA: So you slashed it?

MARC: You said it was just a big Numbcap. Well, good! We’ll cut it down and have enough for ten years!

RILLA: Still, that was reckless.

Want to set it on fire?

MARC: Um, yes, but are we doing this for any particular reason, or just fun?

RILLA: The Numbcap is highly flammable. Before you ingest any of it, I want to check to make sure this is the right thing. Also when you light it on fire it does all these really cool purple sparks.

MARC: Well, I do need to see that.

RILLA: I should have some instant firestarter in my bag.

SOUND: RUSTLING.

There. Dampierre, nudge the cap this way, and then, step back. This catches quickly.

MARC: That powder in your bag just… starts fires?

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

RILLA: With impact. It’s the fastest way to do experiments out in the field. Just be careful not to confuse it with table salt.

MARC: Interesting.

RILLA: Here we go!

SOUND: SMALL EXPLOSION, FLAMES WHOOSHING.

MARC & RILLA: (IN UNISON) Whoaaaaaa.

RILLA: Well… it’s Numbcap, alright. If anything, it’s a little more potent than usual. I’ll have to take a few more readings back at my place before you eat it.

MARC: So… do you want to burn some more?

RILLA: Oh, definitely. Cut us a piece.

MARC: Yes!

SOUND: SWORD SLASH.

(GRUNTING) It’s… it’s tougher over here…

SOUND: CRUNCHING.

Huh. It’s– getting pretty noisy, isn’t it?

SOUND: SPRAY-HISS.

Whoa-hoaa! (COUGHS)

RILLA: Marc!

MARC: (COUGHING) I’m fine. It just sprayed something in my face—

SOUND: SPRAY-HISS.

RILLA: (COUGHING)

MARC: Like that, actually.

RILLA: (COUGHS) These must be spores. They’re… pretty potent.

MARC: You’re tellin’ me. At least Dampierre avoided them.

SOUND: SPRAY. HORSE SNORT.

Nevermind.

SOUND: DISTANT SCREAM.

What the…?

RILLA: What was that?

MARC: Hello? Who’s out there?

Rilla, it sounds like someone’s in trouble. I’ll be right back.

RILLA: Marc, you are not going without me.

MARC: But you aren’t a knight!

RILLA: Yeah, well neither are you! And as your healthcare professional, I’m telling you you’re bringing me. Because I’m not hanging around alone near this giant, creepy, fascinating fungus. Now scoot forward, I’m getting on Dampierre.

MARC: Ohhhh, I wouldn’t. He hates that.

SOUND: WHINNY.

What do you mean, it’s fine when she does it? You shameless flirt!

SOUND: RUSTLING. ANOTHER DISTANT SCREAM.

Well, that’s enough bickering for now. Hold on tight. Hyah!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

RILLA: Hello! Can you hear us?

MARC: Where are you? Scream twice for left, and yelp three times for right!

RILLA: Does that usually work?

MARC: It always gets results of some kind.

SOUND: LOW GROWL, RATTLING.

…Though, I have to say this is the first time it’s gotten results like that.

SOUND: GROWL. NEIGHING.

MARC & RILLA: (IN UNISON) Whoa!

MARC: Dampierre, what are you doing?

SOUND: NEIGHING.

You know I hate sudden stops! We’ve talked about this!

What, no retort? Nothing?

RILLA: Marc, he is a horse.

MARC: Yet he’s showing none of the acerbic wit you’d expect from one.

SOUND: RATTLING, GROWLS.

RILLA: It sounds like there’s something in the trees.

MARC: That growl… it sounds familiar…

SIR TALFRYN (DISTANT): Sir Marc! Sir Marc, are you out there?

MARC: Is that… Talfryn?! Is it just me or is this jungle getting more crowded by the second?

RILLA: I thought you said Tal was on a job somewhere else.

MARC: He’s supposed to be, but—

TALFRYN (DISTANT): Sir Marc!

SOUND: DISTANT SCREAM.

MARC: That must be Tal screaming!

RILLA: Are you sure? It doesn’t sound like him…

MARC: I’d rather not risk being wrong, I’ll say that much. Follow that scream, Dampierre!

SOUND: GROWLING & RATTLING. WHINNY.

Don’t back away! I said follow it, follow it!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

RILLA: That thing in the trees sounds like it’s getting closer.

MARC & RILLA: Ah!

MARC: You have nothing to be scared of! There aren’t any more Rattle-Panthers, you silly horse! We killed the last one!

SOUND: NEIGH.

That’s right, friend, we’re safe. Whatever’s in these woods, I can guarantee you it doesn’t have venomous fangs and cats’ eyes and obsidian claws. It’s alright.

SOUND: SNORT. HOOFBEATS STOP.

RILLA: You’ve gotten… pretty good at talking him down.

MARC: It’s not like I have much choice; I’m usually strapped to him. But… he’s not such a bad horse to be strapped to, all things considered.

SOUND: SNORT.

Shh, friend. We’re having a moment.

RILLA: Do you know where we are? After all that running, I’m a little lost. And this fog isn’t helping.

MARC: It is thick. And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fog so… um, pink. Or smelly.

RILLA: Well, we couldn’t have galloped too far, right? But I don’t even recognize these plants. Hold on, I’m going to check them out.

Hup!

MARC: Just go quickly, please. Tal can hold his own, but… I didn’t like the sound of that screaming. We have to find them soon.

(CALLING) Hello! If you can hear me, say something!

RILLA: These trees look like they’re covered in… mold.

MARC: Ughhh. The trees are rotting?

RILLA: Common misconception. Mold isn’t the same thing as rot. Rot is usually caused by bacteria; mold is a… fungus. Huh.

MARC: This is a really exciting mystery, Rilla, but I don’t think whoever’s screaming out there is going to be as interested in it as you are. Shouldn’t we start looking again?

TALFRYN: Sir Marc! Sir Marc, are you there?

MARC: Tal! So we ended up close to him after all. Come on, Rilla!

RILLA: But… wasn’t his voice coming from the other way before?

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

Marc? Marc, wait!

TALFRYN: Sir Marc! Where are you?

MARC: I’m right here, Tal! You’re the tracker; track me, for Saints’ sake!

TALFRYN: Sir Marc, I have some news. Come this way!

RILLA: Marc…

MARC: Talfryn? Tal!

There you are! Get over here and give your brother’s horse a hug!

TALFRYN: I need you to come over here actually, Sir Marc.

MARC: Have you twisted an ankle, or are you just lazy? Get up and give your brother’s horse a hug.

RILLA: Tal, you should probably get off that stump. Something’s weird about the fungi in this jungle, but—

TALFRYN: I have some news you should hear.

RILLA: Is… something wrong?

TALFRYN: No. Things are better than they’ve been in a while, honestly, but… Marc, you just need to come here.

MARC: If you have something important on your mind, just say it.

TALFRYN: Marc, I…

SOUND: SPRAY-HISS.

…didn’t want to have to tell you like this, but—

MARC: What? Just speak up!

TALFRYN: —I can’t keep going on this way. I’ve decided to stay in the village as a tracker. I’m… not going to be a knight anymore.

MARC: You what?

RILLA: Tal… do you need to talk, or something? This doesn’t sound like you.

MARC: Doesn’t sound like him! There you couldn’t be more wrong, Rilla. I’m just surprised he didn’t say it sooner. I knew it. I always knew you’d take the easy way out one day.

TALFRYN: Being a knight just doesn’t make sense to me anymore. I’m good at tracking, and in the village, I don’t have to go hungry, and I don’t have to take care of you all the time.

MARC: Oh, so you just take care of me? Because I don’t do anything for you, right?

TALFRYN: I mean… I clean your armor, and organize your medicine, and… let’s face it, Marc, you can’t even walk in a straight line through the jungle without me.

MARC: You…! You…!!

RILLA: Marc… something feels off.

MARC: I’ll tell you what’s going to be off in a second: my stupid brother’s stupid face. Get over here and I’ll slap it off you!

MUSIC: STARTS.

TALFRYN: I’m sorry, Sir Marc. I just don’t need you anymore.

MARC: That’s it! Go, Dampierre! I want my fist in his teeth at full gallop!

RILLA: No, wait!

SOUND: NEIGH.

MARC: Out of my way, Rilla.

RILLA: It’s a trap, Marc.

SOUND: SQUELCHING.

MARC: What the…? What is this, slime? It’s as pink as the mist, and it’s… moving.

RILLA: It looks like a slime mold. That’s another fungus, Marc – and that means we’re up to two more weird fungi than I usually see in one day.

TALFRYN: This is goodbye, Sir Marc. I’m leaving forever.

MARC: Just… sit still, alright? Shouldn’t you be a little more concerned about this?

RILLA: Doesn’t it seem like Tal’s acting a little– ahh!

MARC: What is it?

RILLA: The slime mold grabbed my foot!

MARC: Uggggghhhhhhhh.

RILLA: Marc, do something!

MARC: Yes, right, grab on. Dampierre!

SOUND: SNORT.

MARC & RILLA: (GRUNTING)

SOUND: RUBBER STRETCHING.

TALFRYN: This is it. I’m going, Marc.

MARC: Just wait a second, alright? Come on, Rilla.

RILLA: Ugh. It’s still crawling on my leg!

MARC: Well, while you scrape that off, hand me the instant firestarter.

RILLA: The– Marc, that’s genius! Here.

MARC: Perfect. How much of this powder do I need? A handful sound right?

SOUND: SALT SHAKER SHAKING.

RILLA: A pinch is more than enough.

MARC: A handful, right. Take that, slime!

SOUND: EXPLOSION.

RILLA: Marc, careful! Talfryn’s sitting in the—

SOUND: FIRE CRACKLES.

Too late.

TALFRYN: I’m sorry, Sir Marc. I have to go.

MARC: Stop talking and burn!

TALFRYN: (VOICE WARPING) I can’t adventure with you anymore…

SOUND: POP.

MUSIC: ENDS.

MARC: Ha ha! I knew it, I knew it!

RILLA: He… exploded. Into spores?

And the slime stopped. How did you know for sure?

MARC: I did not. But boy, am I glad I was right. If that had been Tal, the being-burnt-to-a-charred-skeleton thing would have been unfortunate.

RILLA: Marc. Really?

MARC: Oh, it’s easy if you make a lucky guess right away. None of this started until we were sprayed by that mushroom’s spores, right? And ever since, it’s been dragging us across this forest to this spot – running towards the screaming, away from the thing in the trees, towards Talfryn… and this trap here. The monster was using long and short strokes to get us away from it and into the slime. It’s just an extended version of that– th-that game, what’s it called? You use a stick to hit a ball into a hole that’s far away?

RILLA: Farhole stickball, you mean?

MARC: No, no, that’s not it.

Miniature farhole stickball! That’s the one. It didn’t make sense for Talfryn to just– flip, from one direction to another like that. And, besides, I…

…knew that he would never… say those things. They hurt so much I thought he might, for a second, but… I knew he wouldn’t really.

RILLA: So… you really think that the Numbcap is doing all this?

SOUND: HEARTBEAT.

MARC: You said yourself it was acting strange. And—

RILLA: Wait! Shhh.

I can hear it. It’s… beating like a heart.

MARC: Disgusting! Hop on, Rilla. We have a fungus to fry.

SOUND: RUSTLING. DISTANT SCREAM.

Hyah!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

There’s that scream from before.

RILLA: Should we follow it? It sounds like it’s behind us.

MARC: No, it must be trying to lure us away again. You said this mushroom interacts with the brain, right?

RILLA: The pain centers, specifically.

MARC: Then that’s how it works!

RILLA: Then what’s how it… what?

MARC: It interacts with the pain centers of our brain, figures out what we would find painful, and then creates it in mushroom-spore-fungus-monster form. That’s why I saw Talfryn saying all those things! Because it hurt!

RILLA: Marc, that’s—

MARC: It hurt a lot! No fun at all!

RILLA: Marc, that makes no sense. Emotional pain and physical pain aren’t even the same thing. That’s not science. That’s just a bad metaphor.

MARC: Monsters live on bad metaphors, Rilla. Science is a human domain. That’s how you get an ogre with two faces that makes you betray one another, and that awful bird that duplicated every time you placed it in a bush, and that earthworm that turned into a dragon when you bullied it, and—

RILLA: Stop. Just… I knew I hated monsters for a reason.

Well, what about the growling in the trees? I already told you – I’m not afraid of anything out here, and you kill monsters every day.

MARC: That’s because that illusion’s not from either of our brains, Rilla…

SOUND: RATTLING, GROWL. WHINNY.

It’s from Dampierre’s!

MUSIC: STARTS.

Whoa, friend, whoa!

RILLA: That’s the monster that broke Dampierre’s rib, isn’t it?

MARC: A Rattle-Panther… or the spitting image of one, anyway. Dampierre, damn you, hold still!

SOUND: GROWLS.

Now listen to me! Are you going to be afraid all your life? Are you a horse, or are you a mouse?

SOUND: LOUD NEIGHING.

Hold still, friend. Be brave. Step just a little closer to it and we’ll fry it once and for all. Rilla, do you have the instant firestarter?

RILLA: Ready.

MARC: Steady… steady… See, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It isn’t even moving.

SOUND: GROWL, WHINNY.

Okay, so it moved! That doesn’t mean anything! Just one more step, that’s it.

RILLA: I got it!

SOUND: POP, FLAMES CRACKLING. GROWL FADES.

Yes!

MARC: We did it! Dampierre, you beautiful beast!

SOUND: SEVERAL KISSES. SNORT.

MUSIC: ENDS.

Oh, stop grumbling. You’re never too old to get a kiss from your Marc.

RILLA: The mushroom sounds like it’s close.

MARC: I hear it, too. Let’s finish it off. Yah!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

With the Panther taken care of, there’s only one question left.

SOUND: DISTANT SCREAM.

DAMIEN: (SCREAMING) Rilla! Help me!

MARC: Huh, and there’s the answer. That was fast.

RILLA: Damien!

DAMIEN: There’s some sort of slime on me, Rilla! It keeps… crushing me… yaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!

MARC: Rilla… what do we do?

MUSIC: STARTS.

RILLA: I… don’t know.

DAMIEN: Rilla, pleeeease, pull me out! It hurts, my love, it hurts! Yaaahhhhhh!

RILLA: If I use the instant firestarter, he’ll go up in flames, too—

MARC: If he’s not an illusion.

RILLA: Do you think I really want to take a chance like that?!

DAMIEN: (YELLS)

MARC: You could try to pull him out, then, but—

RILLA: And let the slime mold grab me?!

MARC: I’m just saying it’s an option!

SOUND: SQUELCHES.

Whatever you choose, you’d better do it soon – the goop is gooping our way.

DAMIEN: (YELLS)

MARC: Alright, so. We just need to figure out if this is an illusion, right? So, could this have been pulled from the pain-center of your brain?

RILLA: Oh, what a shock. The sight of my fiancé being crushed to death upsets me.

MARC: No, I mean… today. Tal was on my mind today and the Rattle-Panther was on Dampierre’s. Why would you be worried about a monster killing Damien today?

RILLA: Just stop and let me think!

DAMIEN: Rillaaa!

RILLA: Sir Marc, make Dampierre step back.

MARC: You heard the woman.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

RILLA: That should be far enough.

DAMIEN: Help me!

RILLA: Take this! Hah!

SOUND: SMALL EXPLOSION, FLAMES WHOOSHING.

DAMIEN: (SCREAMS, VOICE DISTORTING AND FADING)

MUSIC: ENDS.

SOUND: POP.

RILLA: (PANTING)

MARC: You… you did it. Rilla, you did it! Did you see that thing burst? It was another fungus illusion all along!

So, um… how’d you figure it out?

RILLA: I didn’t.

MARC: Uh, what?

RILLA: Listen, I… just need a second to collect some samples. We still have to make your medicine.

MARC: Um, sure. Take as long as you need.

(QUIETLY) Dampierre, let’s give the lady a minute.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS DEPARTING.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: BOTTLES CLINKING.

RILLA: There.

Your medicine. Finished, finally.

SOUND: PILLS RATTLING.

It seems like that giant Numbcap is going to work just as well as the normal ones. And now I have plenty to spare.

MARC: You’re too kind.

No, actually, I’d die without these, which means you’re exactly kind enough.

That was… a very rude way of saying ‘thank you,’ I’m realizing.

RILLA: Yep.

MARC: …It was nice to spend time together again.

RILLA: That’s cool.

MARC: (AFTER A PAUSE) Rilla… in the jungle, I– just have one question.

RILLA: Is this going to be about the mushroom-Damien again?

MARC: No, actually, but if you’d like to talk about that—

RILLA: I don’t.

MARC: Okay.

Rilla, you’ve always known I don’t like Damien.

RILLA: You don’t?

MARC: Well, now you know, anyway. But I care about you. You’ve been like my sister for as long as I can remember. And… my doctor. And my mother. And on one very special occasion, my sous-chef – that was quite a meal, wasn’t it? The little salad with the nuts and—

RILLA: Just say it, Marc.

MARC: Alright.

Well– I may not like Damien, but, I know you do. And the fact is: he’s a knight. And that means one day, more likely than not, a monster is going to kill him. That’s… just what this life is.

RILLA: Your point?

MARC: Are you sure… are you sure you want to marry someone like that? That mushroom showed us the thought hurts you, but… it’s going to happen, one day. Do you really want to live through that?

RILLA: Marc, I’m tired. Just take your medicine and get out of here, okay? Please?

MARC: Rilla, I’m trying to talk—

RILLA: And I’m trying to stop talking, so drop it. Don’t condescend to me, okay? I can be scared that Damien is going to die in the slime of some monster and still want him to be a knight. I think he’s an idiot for it, but whatever. I love him. I want him to be happy. And if that means burying him with a talon through his heart one day, fine. I’ll do it.

MARC: But are you sure?

RILLA: Marc, I wasn’t even convinced that Damien was fake when I lit him on fire. I just knew that if he was real, and if you, or I, or Dampierre, or anyone else somehow got hurt trying to save him, he’d never forgive himself. He can barely handle the guilt he makes up. Real guilt would be worse than killing him. He’d rather go out a fireball than that, and that’s what I gave him. Okay?

MARC: Okay.

Just… one last thing.

RILLA: Marc. I want to go to sleep.

MARC: I know, but… this is embarrassing to ask. But there have been a lot of strange things going on in the jungle near here lately. Monsters that get into your head… they’re dangerous. And, dangerous in a way that even I’m not used to.

RILLA: So?

MARC: So, maybe stay out of the jungle for a little while?

RILLA: I’m not going to stop my experiments!

MARC: Just for a little while. Until Talfryn and I figure it out, and save the day, and there’s a big parade and everyone loves us. You just have to stay out of the jungle, and if you see anything strange, let me know.

Um, please?

RILLA: If I say yes, will you feel better?

MARC: Yes. But I’d feel even better if you actually did it.

RILLA: Yes, then.

MARC: Is that yes like you’ll really do it, or—

RILLA: Bye, Marc.

MARC: Because I really think you should probably be a little bit more scared, given that you live outside the Citadel’s walls and there was that giant hallucinogenic mushroom of pure pain and fear about three minutes away from your hut—

RILLA: You try having as many people relying on you as I do, Marc, and then tell me if you can afford to be scared.

MARC: I’d rather not. It sounds hard. But…

RILLA: Goodnight.

MUSIC: STARTS.

MARC: Goodbye, Rilla. Sleep well.

RILLA: Plan to. Bye, Dampierre.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

Finally. Now I can examine… that thing.

SOUND: CLATTERING. CRANK SPINNING.

Come on, recorder, start.

SOUND: MECHANICAL WHIRRING.

(CLEARS HER THROAT) Research log, entry 4226: in the jungle with Marc this morning, we found a Numbcap with… um, mutations. Analysis of the fungus itself showed no difference between its composition and that of a normal specimen, but in the soil beneath it I discovered this:

SOUND: GLASS CLINKS. CORK POPS. HEARTBEAT.

It looks like… an insect larva, but not one I’ve ever seen before… pure white, no eyes, a weird warmth emanating from it… and that sound… Like a heartbeat. Like the Numbcap.

I took the specimens I could and I killed the rest, but… what even is it?

I’ll run further analysis on the grub tomorrow. Right now, Rilla needs sleep.

SOUND: STOPPER TWISTING IN BOTTLE.

Research log concluded.

SOUND: GLASS CLINKS. CLICK, MECHANICAL WHIRRING STOPS.

Finally… what a day… or two… (SIGHS)

MUSIC: ENDS.

SOUND: SILENCE. GLASS SHATTERS.

(GASPS)

Who’s there?

Hello?

SOUND: INSECT-LIKE HISSING & RATTLING.

Show yourself! I-I have a knife, and I’ll— (GASPS)

LORD ARUM: Do you mean this knife?

RILLA: A monster! What are you doing in here?

ARUM: Looking for what’s mine. You appear to have stuck your little fingers where they don’t belong.

SOUND: GLASS CLINKS.

RILLA: That weird grub?

ARUM: My weird grub. Apparently it ran away from home… and you found it before I did. My secret’s out.

(SIGHS) That means you and I have a problem.

RILLA: Stop. Get away from me!

SOUND: GRUNTS, THUDS. FABRIC RIPPING. PUNCH.

ARUM: Well, now that I have you, little pest… what am I supposed to do with you?

Can’t kill her… who knows who else she’s told. But that means I’ll have to… ughhhhh. Humans. (GRUNTS)

Tktktktktktktktk.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Noah Simes and Melissa Ennulat, and co-creator Kevin Vibert:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

NOAH: …Without answering every– every question, right?

KEVIN: Right, right.

NOAH: We– we’re still not… quite sure what’s going on, at the end of these respective episodes, that seem to end—

KEVIN: Right.

NOAH: —in the neighborhood of near each other.

MELISSA: Yeah, they both technically have the same cliffhanger, so you’re thinking—

NOAH: Right, exactly.

MELISSA: —you know, the last episode, you’re gonna find out what happened to Rilla, and we’re actually just kinda like, going back in time, and then—

NOAH: Yeah, gotcha! (LAUGHS)

MELISSA: —gotcha, we end on the same cliffhanger, guys! Sorry!

KEVIN: (LAUGHING) Well, you find out why, just not what.

MELISSA: Yes. You find out what—

NOAH: We sorta find out…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Francie Liana, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, Lynné Herman, Gray, Jaimie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, The Treacherous Heart, was told by the following people: Melissa Ennulat as Rilla, Stefano Perti as Sir Marc, Matthew Zahnzinger as Sir Damien, Jason Mellin as Sir Talfryn, and Noah Simes as Lord Arum.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#second citadel

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

Text

460

Do you like the show Scrubs? No. I never got into medical series.

Do you like coloring books? OMG yessssssss. I love them so so so so so much. I have three coloring books with a city theme, which I’ve always preferred over mandala/abstract styles. It’s my go-to when I feel anxious or stressed.

Have you ever been called a whore? I don’t think so.

Do you own an IPod? I used to. I stopped using it four years ago and I don’t remember where I last placed it. I lost the charger so it’s not like I can use it still anyway.

What kind of phone do you have? It’s an iPhone 8.

Do you enjoy drinking milk? I’ve enjoyed my few sips here and there but I’m lactose intolerant, so I can’t actually drink a whole glass.

Are you a light or heavy sleeper? Pretty heavy. I can sleep through anything. I sleep lightly only when I know there’s something I have to wake up early or get ready for, like an org event or if I have finals – when there are nights like these, it’s the opposite: I’ll wake up over anything.

Do you like hot chocolate? I generally hate hot beverages but I’d make room for hot chocolate.

Do you ever get carsick? Yes. I tend to get dizzy if I’m not the one driving :/

Are you superstitious? Not at all. The only superstition-y thing I follow is knocking on wood if someone says something no one wants to actually happen.

Do you trip often? Believe it or not, I’ve been better!!! I used to showcase my clumsiness in the last 6-7 years I’ve been taking surveys; now I can’t even tell you the last time I tripped.

Are you overweight or underweight? Underweight. I guess it’s just genetics, because I really do eat a lot.

Does the sight of blood frighten you? Absolutely yes. I feel faint instantly.

Do you like to sneeze? I mean I don’t like doing it on purpose, but it feels good to release one lmao.

Have you ever come close to dying? Other than near-car crashes, no.

How many times have you been in a car accident? With my own car, 3 (in my defense, Gabie was driving in one of those times). With other people driving, 2.

What does you think of necrophilia? Illegal? Insane? Stupid? Horrifying?

Do you think it should be legal to own guns? I’m not educated about this issue well enough to make my own opinion. All I know is that do hate that blonde, curly-haired, ratchet-ass gun-wearing white college girl from the US making all kinds of messes on Twitter.

Do you know anyone with an STD? No, I don’t think so.

Would you pull the plug on a family member if they were a... A...?

Do you go trick or treating on Halloween anymore? The last time I went was the Halloween before college. I’ve been super busy since then.

Did you have a bad childhood? Hahaha man are you in for a ride...

Do you litter? No.

Are you afraid of deep water? Yeah, it’s one of my big fears. I guess it stems from the fact that our swimming teachers would always assume I’m one of the tall girls and put me over to the deep end of our pool. Nowadays I start to panic if I even have to tip-toe to reach the floor of pools or beaches.

Do you get dizzy easily? Yeah, very.

Have you ever been thrown up on? No.

Have you ever thrown up on someone? I’ve thrown up on the floor while passed out and someone had to wipe it for me before they were able to find a trash can around the area, if that counts. Obviously I apologized profusely the next morning and told her never to do that for me again hahaha.

How many times have you thrown up from being so drunk? I think 4 times.

What kind of blizzard do you like from Dairy Queen? I don’t really order from their Blizzards much. I’m more of an Oreo frappe girl.

Don't you think Napoleon Dynamite was a terrible movie? I’ve never seen it, actually.

Have you been baptized? Yes.

Are you a virgin? Nope.

Do you like balloons? As long as they aren’t flown into the air to pollute the planet some more, yes.

Does the sound of fireworks scare you? It used to. Now it just excites me.

What's your favorite firework? The bigger the display, the better.

Have you ever been beat up? My cousin and I used to play wrestling and beat each other up, but he never did anything terrible.

Do you believe in steryotypes? Sometimes they turn up true, so I’ll occasionally give stereotypes a chance.

Have you ever seen a jellyfish? Nope. But I’ve been stung by one.

Have you ever ridden first class on an airplane? I haven’t.

Is your family wealthy? I mean I wouldn’t say wealthy.

Do you like big butts and you cannot lie?

Is a three hour movie too long for you to watch? It normally would be, but if it’s supposed to be really good like Gone with the Wind, then length wouldn’t be a problem.

How many weddings have you been to? Very few. I can remember around four, but there could be more. All of them have been weddings of my parents’ friends/distant relatives and I haven’t been to one since 2007. I think the next one I’ll be going to will already be a wedding of someone from my generation.

How many funerals have you been to? My parents don’t take us to funerals. I’ve been to wakes, though.

Have you ever been on a cruise? Yes, once. It was my 18th birthday/graduation gift.

Does orange juice give you heartburn? No.

Are pills hard for you to swallow? If there’s no water nearby, yes.

Have you ever overdosed on pills? I haven’t.

Does your home phone have call waiting? I don’t know. We haven’t checked if it does that anyway.

Does your home phone have caller ID? Nope.

Do you have more happy or unhappy memories? I’d say it’s a fair balance.

Are you moody? I’m not able to help it sometimes, yeah.

Do you get emotional easily? Yeah, very. It’s very easy to make me cry, for one.

Do you cry when you get angry? Sometimes.

Do you watch That 70's Show? Nope. I’ve had it queued on Netflix for ages, though.

Is the clock in your room digital or manual? The only clocks in my room are my phone’s and laptop’s, if they count.

What's your AIM username?

Do you get online often? Yeah, I’m online basically all the time now. It’s the easiest way to connect to people.

Don't you just LOVE FunDips? :D I’m not crazy about them, but they’re cool.

Do you even know what a FunDip is? Sure.

Do you wear shorts or sweatpants more? Shorts.

Have you ever had chicken pox? Never. Everyone keeps telling me that each person is bound to have it once in their life – not sure about the accuracy but I’m just waiting for my turn lol.

Are you a perfectionist? Yep.

#survey #surveys

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puregaychaos · 6 years ago

Text

Learn to Fly (Biadore oneshot)

Hello there I’m back again. Sorry this has taken so long for me to post but thank you for being so patient. luh you xo

He was never sure where it came from, but for as long as he could remember, Danny was terrified of flying. It wasn’t like he was worried that they were going to crash and die, obviously. He mostly attributed it to watching Final Destination a few too many times when it came out. As soon as he hit a moderate turbulence he would have a major panic attack thinking this was it for him. Naturally, this was pretty inconvenient given that his work required him to travel the world. The amount of anxiety pills required to get him through these flights could probably kill someone and forgetting to refill his prescription was never going to end well for him.

These were the thoughts going through Danny’s head when he was in the cab on the way to the airport for the ABCD Tour. His leg was bouncing, his stomach was spinning and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this nauseous. When he arrived at the airport his fears escalated, only subsiding slightly when finding his best friend waiting for him. “Jesus, you look a mess,” the charming Roy greeted. This kind of banter was nothing new to Danny as he chuckled, hugging the shorter man. “Let’s get drunk!” Danny exclaimed, knowing he would need something to take the edge off of his flying nerves.

“Danny it’s 10am...” Roy trailed off before laughing, “let’s go.”

With a few hours to kill, Danny and Roy found a small bar in the corner of the airport and ordered themselves a round of drinks. Then two, then three then four until Danny was no longer even feeling nervous. “Whoa,” Roy said checking his watch, “we need to go sweetie.” Danny slurred some gibberish and wobbled all the way to the gate with only Roy holding him up. It wasn’t until they’d boarded and sat down that the nerves started to kick in again.

“Roy, Roy, help me.” Danny’s breathing was erratic and Roy grabbed his hand.

“Hey, breathe with me.” Roy responded, breathing slowly in and out trying to help Danny.

“No, my heart...is gonna explode.” Danny was having heart palpitations at this point and stood up, feeling immediately dizzy.

“Sir, you need to sit down, we’ll be taking off soon.” The flight attendant politely said.

“No, no,” Danny’s whole body was shaking until Roy grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you’ll be fine, I’m here,” he whispered. “Can we get some water?”

Danny woke up on Roy’s shoulder, not realising he’d passed out. Roy was peacefully watching a movie on his iPad with his earphones in. He glanced down, noticing Danny’s movement. “How are you feeling?” Danny simply mumbled in response, feeling his nerves bubble up again.

“Don’t like flying,” was Danny’s more coherent reply, to which Roy chuckled. Despite his sleep, Danny was still feeling tipsy. “Help me,” he slurred.

“What do you you need?” Roy asked and instead of answering, Danny wrapped his arms around his neck in a tight embrace, his head buried in Roy’s sweet smelling hair. When the two pulled away they locked eyes for what felt like forever. It was a strange new feeling for Danny, like the ultimate intimacy without even touching. Suddenly his heart rate was speeding up and slowing down all at the same time, it wasn’t the flying he was scared of anymore, it was what might happen next with Roy. Not that there hadn’t been times where Danny wanted to make a move before, he’d had feelings for Roy for a while. It was just that he’d never acted on them and this time he thought that maybe Roy wanted it too. It was such a big risk but in Danny’s eyes so was being on this plane and if they were gonna die on this flight, he wanted to know that he’d at least tried with Roy. Then again, what if Roy flat out rejected him? What if he was so disgusted by the idea of Danny kissing him that it ruined the friendship they had? As he finally snapped back to reality, he realised it was too late to be worrying about this because he was already leaning towards Roy. This was it, the moment that that could make or break everything. His mind was spinning as he realised what he was doing. He shouldn’t have even been doing this Roy was his best friend and he could be about to kill that in an instant. Before he had time to register any of this, their lips were touching, only slightly, it didn’t take Danny long to notice that Roy didn’t seem to be kissing him back and he moved away quickly, hanging his head in shame. That was it, he’d ruined it all, their friendship was over.

"Danny I," Roy paused. Danny couldn't even look at him, he was terrified and his heart was beating double time. Of course it had to be that moment when the plane hit turbulence. Danny's knuckles were white from where he was clinging to the armrest between them. At that moment he was struggling to breathe. Roy rested his hand over Danny's, "look at me," he commanded but Danny still couldn't, keeping his eyes on the floor. After saying it a few more times, Roy gave in. He grabbed Danny's cheek and moved his head to face him. Danny finally moved his eyes to look at Roy, still in the midst of a panic attack. Before he could think, Roy's lips connected with his, this time actually kissing him. Danny could feel fireworks inside his chest, suddenly he wasn't so worried anymore. It didn't take long for their kiss to become more heated with Roy grabbing the back of Danny's head with one hand and caressing his cheek with the other. Meanwhile Danny's hands were roaming all over Roy's body, wanting to feel every part of him while he can. Their steamy makeout came to an abrupt end as the seat belt light above them turned off and they were no longer in turbulence. "Bathroom, 2 minutes," Roy whispered to Danny as he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane.

Danny took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. He looked around the cabin at the, mostly sleeping passengers, as he stood up. He made his way to the bathroom, seeing that the door was locked, and tapped on it rhythmically. He saw the lock go from red to green and let himself in, checking over his shoulder first.

Before Danny could even make it fully into the small bathroom, Roy was pushing him against the door, clicking the lock behind him. He pinned Danny's wrists above his head as he kissed him passionately, exactly the dominant lover Danny imagined him being. An involuntary whimper left Danny's mouth as he felt Roy's tongue on the roof of his mouth. Roy pulled away briefly, leaving Danny a light-headed panting mess. He threw his head back as Roy moved down his neck, kissing and nipping whilst moving his hands away from Danny's wrists, moving down his arms and resting at his waist. Danny wasted no time pulling Roy's head back up and wrapping his arms around his neck. Roy's hands slid down to undo Danny's jeans and starting teasing him through his boxers. Danny wasn't sure how to react, almost wanting to swat Roy's hand away because he didn't know what to do. Of course he'd done this before but this was different. It was Roy. Roy's hands delicately stroking him through his boxers almost as if he was afraid of hurting him. Just as he was thinking this, Roy pulled Danny's boxers down to his knees. Danny gasped as Roy pulled away, now wrapping his lips around Danny's cock, slowly moving up and down his shaft. It was an amazing feeling that Danny just wanted to last forever. Roy pulled his head back, swirling his tongue around the head before ducking back down, taking the whole of Danny deep into the back of his throat until he gagged. Danny could feel every muscle in his body relaxing as he knew he was close to climax already, a pitifully short amount of time. "Roy, please." Danny stammered, "please fuck me."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Sir, we will be landing shortly please make your way back to your seat." Both of the men giggled, embarrassed by the situation.

"That'll have to wait until the hotel," Roy whispered as he helped Danny get his pants back up.

"Is that a promise?" Danny replied, making Roy laugh and nod his head in response. Once both men had composed themselves they exited the bathroom, both looking down to hide how much they were blushing. Roy intertwined their fingers as they walked through the cabin back to their seats. Once theyd sat down, Danny looked down at their hands. He couldn't believe what just happened. This man he'd had a crush on for years may have actually felt the same. He kissed him on the cheek after they'd lock their seatbelts and rested his head on the older man's shoulder.

"Still scared of flying?" Roy asked, to which Danny laughed.

"Not if you'll do that more often."

#Biadore #Bianca del rio #Adore Delano #Biadore fic

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dweebobeebo-blog · 6 years ago

Text

If you're bored wanna have sex? -josh dun

Words: 1271

Warnings: drinking, smut.

Requested: yes

I've been friends with Josh and Tyler for a while now, I grew up with Tyler then met Josh later on, we weren't always peachy towards each other kinda mean and picked on each other but that happens a lot right? I felt like he was stealing my best friend and he felt the same way, or maybe it's the unspoken sexual tension Tyler and jenna say that's between us, I don't see it, the sexual tension I mean. I see that Josh is very highly attractive and intelligent but wait what am I saying

I decided I was gonna call, jenna and Tyler and ask them to hang out I was bored, it rang a couple times before they answered

"Finalllyyy" I groaned

"Sorry I wasnt near my phone " jenna laughs "what's up"

"You guys wanna do something?" I ask "im bored"

"Sure we'll be there shortly" jenna have a mischievous tone to her voice and I didnt like it

so I cleaned my apartment, had the TV playing for background noise while I was in the bathroom putting a little makeup on, a knock on the door I went to get it thinking it was Tyler and jenna, I was wrong it was josh..

"What are you doing here..." I sigh

"Is Tyler and jenna not here?" He groans, I shake my head "they told me they were"

"Well they're not" I snap, he comes in "okay yes please Josh come in"

"Thanks doll" he slips his shoes off at least he did that, and throws himself on my couch

I wont be a bitch, I wont be a bitch.. dammit I have to be a bitch hes got his feet on my coffee table!

"Feet off the table dun" I groan throwing a pillow at him, the throws his hands in the air and moves his feet.

I sat on the other end of the couch, as we watched the big bang theory, I finally get tired of waiting and decide to call Tyler and it rang forever, so Josh called jenna and she answered

"Yes?" She answers

"Where the heck are you guys?!" I shout "I thought you were coming over "

"Oh! We are..." she giggles

"Hi josh!" Tyler yells in the back ground, "well be there shortly, k bye!"

The line goes dead, Josh and I just look at each other like what the fuck he throws his phone down and we focus back on the TV.

Hours pass and Tyler and jenna still arent here, plus we keep getting severe thunder storm warnings on our phone and on the news so yeah they're definitely not coming now. I groan and go to my kitchen grabbing myself a beer, figure why not be nice and get Josh one so I do, i hand it to him receiving a weird look from him in the process

"What, I figured with the storm coming you'll be here a while" i sigh

"Good point..." he takes it and opens it taking a swig before setting it on the coaster on the coffee table, for once.

"Wanna play a game?" I ask, shrugging my shoulder and point at (your choice of gaming system)

He shrugs picking up the controllers, tossing me one and putting a game in. Almost an hour later, death match rounds later we turn it off, I grab us another beer and it finally starts to storm

"I'm bored " I groan giving him his beer and laying on the floor

"If you're bored wanna have sex?" He says, oh so nonchalantly I snap my head towards him "what?"

"You're joking right?" I sit up leaning on my elbows

"Uh no" he says looking at me seriously shrugging "bad idea?"

"I'm not opposed to it.." I mutter, I mean I did say hes attractive and I will now admit I would so have sex with him

"So, are you saying yes..?" He moves off couch and hovers over me, moving my beer so I'm laying on the ground again I just shrug

"Yes or no?" He spits, almost venomously

"Yes dammit" I snap back, almost as fast as it came out his lips were on mine, and I wrapped a hand in his shirt and the other on his messy hair. I didnt expect to feel, fireworks and that shit with the kiss but shit I did, and I hope he did too. He pulls at my bottom lip as he pulls away, a smirk forming on his face

"Did you feel it too?" He licks his lips, staring at mine I nod, as he kisses me again, rougher this time as he trails down to my neck, nipping at it trying to find my soft spot to get me to squirm and moan

Our clothes are off, and thrown about everywhere in my living room, only in my panties and him In his boxers, he pulls away, hands tugging at my panties I lift myself so he can pull them off, once he does he pulls his boxers off ans strokes himself

"Condom?" He mutters bitting his lip

"On the pill" I grab his face and kiss him, delving my tongue into his mouth, he slides into me effortlessly, making us both gasp, feeling so full I tilt my head back his lips find my neck as he starts off slow, finding a rythm.

He picks up his pace, as my hands drag down his back, he nips at my neck as we moan and groan into each others ears, he pulls on of my legs up to reach a new angle making me moan louder than before I see him smirk before kissing me.

"Joshhh" I moan, throwing my head back and arching my back. Feeling close to my climax already.

A few more thrusts, and I feel like I'm going to explode, as I dig my nails into his back,

"You gonna cum for me baby?" He bites my ear lobe making my moan as his hand slides between our bodies. Soon I'm tightening around him, ready to release

"J-josh..." I mutter, hiding my face in his neck and tightening my arms around him

"Let go, I got you princess, cum for me" he whispers, his words send me over the edge and my orgasm explodes triggering his.

We lay there for a little bit, before moving and slowly getting dressed, exchanging small kisses, giggles and chuckles along the way playing with each others hair, a knock on the door we quickly stand up

"HOLD ON!!" I yell as we both finish getting dressed forgetting our underwear but not caring I run and open the door "Tyler! Jenna! Hi!"

"Hi..." Tyler says hesitantly

"What's up..." I giggle

"We thought we made you wait long enough, Josh still here?" Jenna asks, I just nod hearing something thud and then he appears behind me

"Yup yah yeap I'm still here" he says "I was playing a game and drinking so I didn't leave.."

They just nod, and we slowly walk back to the living room and I just nudge him and shake my head, before they sit down I notice my underwear and Josh's by the couch we both rush to push it underneath the couch and fall

"What the heck you two.." Tyler says, giving us weird looks we just nervously laugh and smile.

"Seriously what is going on" jenna says

"Nothing, I fell asleep he was playing video games the whole time!" I say

"You never sleep through storms" Tyler says and I shrug, they do not need to know what really went on.

#panic! at the disco #my chemical romance #fall out boy #falling in reverse #brendon urie #bring me the horizon #twenty øne piløts #dallon weekes #ronnie radke #tyler joseph #5sos #josh dun #gerard way #black veil brides #dan pawlovich

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hollygopossumlovesj2 · 7 years ago

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Collide Part 12

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, CW executives

Rating/Warnings: We’ll call it R for cussing, violence, a little sexual advances.

A/N: Thank you so much for continuing to read this! Let me know what you think!

Collide Master List

Hollygopossum’s Master List

Sam’s point of view

Filing the police report had gone as expected. They weren’t going to worry about it until she had been missing for 24 hours. Y/N was an adult and were we sure that she hadn’t just needed some fresh air? Blah blah blah…

Dean had fumed silently, letting me handle the methodical police officers involved. It was probably for the best anyway. Dean couldn’t afford to be arrested today. He was already pushing it with the way his fists were clenching so tight that his knuckles turned white. He’d clenched his jaw so many times that I expected to hear teeth cracking to bits in his mouth.

Ditching the Impala hadn’t gone any better. Dean had assured and caressed the hunk of metal until I was red in the face and ready to drag my brother down the street so that we could get this over with. I didn’t like the idea of Clif being involved any more than he did, but in our situation we’d be better of safe than sorry. We had to investigate. We had to collect more information to get the entire picture.

“She’s fine, Dean, and we’re coming right back.” I grumbled, trying to focus on something other than my brothers inconsistent breathing.

“Whatever.” He grumbled half-heartedly, his expression that of a petulant child’s as he basically dismissed the whole thing. I didn’t stop to think about what was going on in that twisted brain of his.

I rolled my eyes, trying and nearly failing at holding in all the things I wanted to say. Some might be helpful; others were downright hurtful. So I kept my mouth shut for the sake of our well-being and Dean’s sanity.

We were a block away from our charred home when Dean started to talk to me again. “Hey, Sammy?” Dean’s voice was breathy, but we were walking at a pretty good clip, so I ignored it.

“The car is fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I was just thinking that she could use an oil change, ya know? And maybe some new spark plugs, she’s kind of lagging lately when I press on the gas…”

“Yeah, you can fix Baby as soon as we solve this mystery first, okay? So can we focus?” So, I hadn’t been able to hold in my frustration completely. However, I wasn’t too hard on myself. I was convinced that Mother Theresa would have trouble being around Dean 24/7.

Somehow, I let Dean talk me into splitting up. Unfortunately, it probably had more to do with keeping my cool than any tactical advantage. I’d take the back of the house and he’d take the front. At the time, I figured we’d be a lot quieter separately and cover more ground that way.

The back of the house was still and covered in a silence that I found hair raising. The house was a charred mess, but everything in the back yard was left untouched. There was something not right about this whole thing. It drove me crazy not to have all of the information, to be going through this blind.

I didn’t even hear Dean enter the house before he bellowed, “Here I am, you son of a bitch!” My heart dropped to my stomach like lead and I realized instantly that I’d made a grievous mistake. “Come and get me asshole!” I nearly fell over my own legs in my rush to get to Dean who I now saw standing in the middle of our charred home with his arms spread wide. The missing walls the fire fighters had knocked down trying to control the blaze made it convenient that way.

I didn’t even make it up the stairs, that were strangely untouched by the fire, before two men in black jumped him. I ducked down below the porch, only barely able to see Dean and itching to go to his rescue. But the expression he threw me as he was carried out like a sack of grain stayed me.

He had planned this all along, the asshole. He’d played on my irritation and used it as a distraction.

The jackass had planned to be jumped and planned to be taken to where they were keeping Y/N and I could scream! I was so frustrated by my brother’s self-sacrificing assholery. He couldn’t know for sure that he’d be taken to the same place or if they’d even let him live long enough to see her.

The man had not one self-defensive bone in his goddamned body when it came to people he cared about. If there was a kid in the road in danger of being hit by a car, he’d push that kid out of the way and get himself killed. Hell, he’d probably rescued kittens from trees and old women from being mugged.

“Shit. Damnit, Dean.” I whispered along with a few more choice words as I tried to get to the Impala as fast as I could while keeping an eye on the white, windowless van that carried my brother away. It was impossible, of course. They were too fast and I wasn’t fast enough. But there was one thing that I knew Dean had been counting on.

Dean’s POV

It didn’t take them long to drag me from the van after a hugely uncomfortable ride. I think whoever the hell these assholes were had succeeded in hitting every pothole on the way. I felt the hard concrete and patches of grass as I was drug by my arms through a doorway. I sighed because I knew there’d be grass stains all over my jeans. I’d just gotten these comfortably worn in.

My frown deepened when I felt some of the thinner fabric tear on a sharp corner. The rough feel of concrete rubbing my thigh raw did not make the situation any better.

I couldn’t see for myself, of course. The dark fabric they’d pulled over my head and tied at the bottom made that a little difficult to do. I could feel my sweat tracking down my face, the humid air making it difficult to breathe a full breath. It was itchy and only made me more irritable than afraid.

I tried to ignore the erratic, fluttering beat in my chest. It made me feel like something had embedded its hooks into my throat and lodged itself there.

It was obvious that there was something going on with my heart. What was new? But, if we’d stopped now to address it, we may never have had a chance to find her. My hope was that it would correct itself, like usual.

Life was a little less horrible when they pushed me into a seated position on a wooden, creaky chair. However, it sucked out loud when they tied my legs and arms to it with the roughest rope possible. Even without any struggle, the material bit into my skin like I was made of dough. I could feel the grimace of distaste stretch across my face.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Dean Winchester.” The small hands that smoothed over my shoulders and the nails that then raked lightly across my chest gave me the serious creeps, mixing the taste of bile with the salty taste left by my own sweat.

“Hey, I didn’t sign up to be molested by the world’s biggest douche bag, douche bag. So if you don’t mind keep your fucking hands off me.” I growled out as soon as I could stop gagging, a heavy shiver shaking me down to my bones.

The punch I knew was coming, but could do nothing to avoid, exploded over my cheek bone like a goddamned firework. I had a moment to check the status of my teeth with my tongue before the blinder was taken off, reflexive tears in my eye.

“Lori, I knew you’d have something to do with this.” My usual cocky attitude was getting harder and harder to maintain as the pain in my chest spread. It made my voice raspy, rather than the steady tone I was going for.

“Winchester.” She smiled at me in what I knew she thought of as alluring. It would take a shit ton of whiskey before that became even remotely sexy. “So glad that you’re finally here with us.”

I was scanning the room, wanting to look anywhere but Lori’s sickly sweet face and to find a way out of here, when I spotted her. The exchange of emotions was dizzying. I felt a second of relief before her appearance filtered through and struck an oxygen depriving blow.

She was similarly tied to a chair like me, but her chin was resting at an odd angle on her chest. There were scrapes and bruises that looked like she’d put up a hell of a fight. That’s my girl.

“What did you do to her?” Internally, I rolled my eyes at myself. I sounded breathy and panicked. Way to bluff your way out of this, Winchester.

“Don’t worry about, Y/N. She’s just unconscious. For now.” Lori took a dramatic breath before her smile stretched even wider. It was the smile of every fucked up psycho from every horror movie ever made. “But now that we have at least one of the intended audience, we can begin.”

“Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“Oh yeah, I’m so intimidated.” Lori rolled her eyes before leaning over to smack Y/N’s cheek hard, the sound echoing in the empty warehouse. “Wake up, pretty! It’s time for the show to begin.”

Y/N’s y/c/e eyes were glassy as I watched her struggle to focus, a heavy feeling settling in my stomach when I realized that they’d already given her something. “What did you give her?”

Lori smiled brightly before patting Y/N’s cheek in a disgusting charade of motherly affection. “Just a little of her own medicine.” She pulled a pill bottle out of her pants pocket, the pills rattling together benignly. “They really are hers… I’ve tried this particular brand of sleeping pills, but they just weren’t for me. They were too strong and I felt like I’d never wake up in the morning.”

So that’s how it was going to go? Desperation gripped me like it never had before. What if Sam had been unable to track my phone? What if I was just signing myself up to watch Y/N die, just like my mother had? “They’ll never believe that she killed herself.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, baby cakes. Mark has been building a file on her ever since she started at the station. He knew that she wouldn’t have the sack to just stay out of the way. Why do you think he told her everything?”

My heart gave a particularly vicious pulse that made me cough, a couple of tears of exertion tracking down my face. It was getting even harder to breathe, the first threads of panic started to wind their way through me. I could feel that my hands and feet were cold for more reasons than lack of blood circulation.

“Did she tell you that your Mom had a choice? That it was her life or Sam’s?” She bent over my chair to talk, her breath washing over my face. The only good point was that this was Hollywood. Of course she had perpetually fresh, minty breath. “So, it’s basically little Sammy’s fault that your Mom was a cold corpse when you got home from little league?”

I spit with all the moisture I could collect in my mouth, smiling in triumph when she backed away with a shriek. “Sam didn’t give our mother those sleeping pills, you fucking bitch!”

Lori made a shrill scream of frustration in her throat as she wiped the amalgam of bile and mucous from her face. “No, he didn’t but he might as well have! Your Mom had a choice! She could’ve left with Mark, left her family a little heart broken, but ultimately she would’ve been alive. She chose death instead! She would rather die than live with you as her son!”

The blow to the stomach pushed all oxygen out of my lungs, causing my chest to burn with renewed vigor. Like someone had thrown acid there. I felt like my body might pull me inward and I would disappear into nothingness. Fuck. Her fist hurt like a bitch to my unguarded stomach, but for once the words hurt more.

Her voice, even though it was slurred and raspy, cut through the ringing in my ears. It was a fucking balm to my shredded fucking heart to hear her fight through the effects of the drugs they’d already given her. “S’not true. S’not the whole story, Dean.” Through the moisture in my eyes I could see her trying to focus on what she was saying, blinking and swallowing hard. “He t’me. She w’sn’t l’ving alive.” She took a deep breath, her eyes looking a little clearer. “’f she d’dn’t leave w’him.”

“I know.” I wheezed out, lying through my teeth and trying to smile. Lori didn’t need to see how easily she could tear me apart with just words. “I know. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? You don’t have to take anything else.”

Lori’s laugh was maniacal and almost hid the sound of the safety clicking off of the 45 in her grasp. “Well, we can’t get too carried away, but we can have a little fun.” She sat on my lap, careful to avoid my face, as if she knew that I would bite the hell out of her if she got close enough. Her weight and bony ass against my thighs was torture and I could already feel bruises forming. Stupid blood thinners. “We can decide who wants to die first or we could play a little Russian Roulette with this gun. I’ve only loaded one bullet.”

Tagging (Forevers): @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann , @daydreamingintheimpala, @tas898, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyxx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess, @hbenth, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @mysteriouslyme82, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @uniquewerewolfsuit, @ria132love, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @pretty-fortune, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @justanotherdeangirl, @weasleywinchester

Tagging (Collide Only): @4401lnc

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester series #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester one shot #collide serie #collide #hollygopossum writes #supernatural fan fic #supernatural au #supernatural alternative universe #cross posted on Ao3

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hellomissmabel · 7 years ago

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“Drunken playfulness and stolen kisses”

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: I have no idea how to put this so here’s a huge spoiler: there’s a dessert in this fic that’s called a “blowjob”. Mentions of sexy times but not the actual thing.

Word count: 1.628

Summary: It’s Steve birthday so you decide to surprise him with breakfast in bed. Inspired by the song “Only You” by Zara Larsson.

A/N: A special thank you to @imcaptainamerica for being the inspiration that allowed me to finish this fic. I love you.

Everyone knows how the story goes. You are the woman that keeps Steve Rogers’ bed warm, the girl that fills up the empty space in his heart. Everybody at Stark Tower knows who you are and what purpose you serve, namely guarding the Captain’s sanity and keeping his soul on the path of righteousness. You help him sleep well, without the sleeping pills.

I don’t wanna shower even if I stink ‘Cause I don’t wanna wash you off, wash you off my skin It’s been about an hour And I’m still trembling, oh Feelin’ you deep, feelin’ you deep within, eh

You’re there when he needs comfort after another bone-breaking mission, giving him back the strength he lost in another fight, restoring his faith in humanity. The softness and tenderness with which you handle the wash cloth that cleans him from the dirt on his skin and the blood on his hands, it’s what keeps him grounded. If it wasn’t for you and your warm smile, the Captain would’ve sunk with the ship that science created almost a century ago, when the weirdest specimen walking around on earth was him. Often he wonders whether or not leaving is the preferred option, but then you kiss him and he’s reminded of all the reasons he should stay. Because the world will fall without the Avengers, no matter what they say. And what kind of world would it be if the Captain can’t keep his beloved safe?

The sweltering heat keeps you from taking your clothes off the floor and putting them on. You’re just naked, lying on the bed next to him, his name like a hallelujah on your lips. He’s still sleeping and you don’t have to heart to wake him up yet. During the night, you must’ve kicked the sheets off the bed as they are carelessly scattered across the floor. The vast state of disorder you find your bedroom in is less than worrisome. It’s not the first time he comes knocking on your door, cupping your face and kissing you hard with desperation on his breath. You didn’t know you could ever be this thirsty, this needy for a man.

But Steve Rogers isn’t just any man.

He’s not your father, a workaholic who barely had any time left for his family until you moved out and started your job at Stark Tower. He’s also not the jerk who popped your cherry and left you with your very first broken heart. Neither is Steve the guy that pulled down your walls, breaking them down brick by brick until there’s nothing left but a broken frame and a dark shroud. The guy that left once he’s seen the ghost of the person you were before all the hurt dragged you down.

Steve Rogers is the man who made you realise that the love you’d been looking for all your life will never taste like magic. That sadness plays a song heard by many and sung by all. The man who showed you that fear is shapeless and that heartbreak burns brighter than any candle or any flame, not even the ones you light in church.

I can smell your smell so sweet On my pillow, on my sheets Yeah, I wanna keep it like that Keep on sleeping like that, yeah Baby, you’ll be hard to beat What I have is yours to keep Yeah, I never wanted so bad Best that I’ve ever had

There’s static running through your veins when his arm tightens around your waist, silencing your thoughts. Rolling over on his side, he nuzzles his face into the nape of your neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell so sweet, baby,” he murmurs into your ear, accompanied by the soft press of his lips on your skin. It accelerates your pulse, your senses almost begging for another touch.

“You know what day it is?” Your voice is tender and soft enough for only him to hear, your eyes hooded with affection.

Steve hums in acknowledgement before slowly peppering your cheek with lazy kisses. “It’s my birthday.”

Turning around slightly so your nose is touching his, you whisper against his lips. “That’s right. It’s my hubby’s birthday.”

His smile is warm and even reaches his eyes, which is such a rarity these days. But Steve has a good reason to be so happy, so relieved, so free as of late. “How long have we been married now?”

“A full three days, can you believe it?,” you chuckle as you caress his cheek, pecking the tip of his nose with a laugh.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Steve says softly, mesmerized by your morning glow. “But is it wrong that I kinda wanna go back to the days you were my dirty little secret? Where we secretly loved each other and had to take a hotel room and spent the night there?” He plays with your entwined fingers, kissing your knuckles one by one. “Oh man, we did so many stupid things but we had so much fun, too. I kinda miss that, the drunken playfulness and the stolen kisses.”

“When did you get so serious?,” you ask with a giggle before the redness of your flushed cheeks dies down to a subtle pale pink. “I miss those days, too, Steve. But you gotta accept that those days are gone. No more smoke and mirrors and to be completely honest, I’m actually quite okay with that.”

Steve pouts a little. “But now I don’t have you to myself anymore. I have to share you with the rest of the team.”

“Oh, Steve,” you shake your head as he gives you his best puppy dog eyes, “You don’t have to share me with anyone. I’ll always be yours, I’ll always be there for you. I’ll be by your side, always and forever.”

I can’t love nobody like I love myself Like I love myself Only you, only you No one’s ever touched me like I touch myself No, nobody else Only you

A soft knock on the door and Bucky’s voice interrupts your conversation. “Y/N? Steve? Are you two lovebirds decent yet? I have no intention of being traumatised for life by Steve’s bare ass, okay?!”

Steve’s full-bodied laugh rumbles through his chest and the sound reverberates against the walls with palpable amusement. “Just give us a sec, Buck.”

You can already hear Buck sigh deeply at the other end of the door. As Steve jumps out of the bed to get you some fresh clothes, you send a quick text to Bucky to get your surprise ready. When both of you are fully dressed and wrapped up in each other’s arms once more, you call for Bucky to come in. “So you got everyone in on this, haven’t you, babe?,” Steve shakes his head with a laugh, smiling over to where Bucky is rolling his eyes.

“You’re gonna make me throw up with all that lovey-dovey talk,” Bucky smiles as he sets the tray down in front of you, careful not to trip it over. As he points out all the different delicacies on the tray, Steve squeezes your thigh underneath the sheets, looking at you lovingly.

“So per Annie’s request, I present you with molten hot chocolate, strawberries, whipped cream, blueberry pancakes, two mimosas to start the day with and a little courtesy of the team, a blowjob,” Bucky announces cheekily.

“Thank you for th- wait, a blowbjob…? Courtesy of the team?,” Steve pipes up, his eyes gazing confusedly between you and Bucky.

You bury your face in your hands as you realise what they’d done. “Omg… I told Sam about this a while ago. It’s a dessert my roommates and I invented way back in college. One of them decided to call it a blowjob because of the crunchy meringue and,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “the long chocolate stick.”

“Oh, I see,” Steve chuckles softly, obviously entertained once his state of confusion ebbed away. “Well, the name fits, I guess? Right, Bucky?”

Bucky only huffs at Steve’s response. “Are we not gonna talk about the fact that Annie literally just said ‘omg’? Those damn millennials.”

You throw a pillow at Bucky and give him the death glare so he’d get a move on. “Time for you to leave Bucky.” Grinning, you press a lingering kiss to Steve’s cheek, making sure to lock eyes with Bucky. “Thanks so much for helping me out but I believe Stevie and I have more important matters to attend to.”

Steve laughs at the look on Bucky’s face when he turns to leave. “Yeah, enjoy your two breakfasts in bed, punk.”

After Bucky has taken his leave, you rest your head on Steve’s shoulder, humming happily. Steve rests his cheek on the top of your head, smiling like a loon. “You’re amazing, Y/N. This is the best birthday I could’ve ever wished for. And the blowjob… it tastes interesting. But in a good way.”

You laugh heartily. “I’m glad to hear that. Only the best for the love of my life,” you answer smoothly yet sincerely, pouring all your loving into every single syllable.

“You know,” you whisper teasingly as you crane your neck so you can look at your husband. “I was originally going to wrap myself into the America flag, wearing nothing but the American flag and take you up to the rooftop for a bang with a view and some fourth of July fireworks,” you giggle at your own pun, “But I’m afraid Tony’s throwing a party so the rooftop might already be spoken for.”

“Well, we can always find a balcony with a view, too, baby. Don’t you worry,” Steve smirks before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. “The day has only just started.”

@beccaanne814-blog @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyries @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @bovaria @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @hymnofthevalkyries @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @austinamelio @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @justareader @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @jurassicbarnes @howlingbarnes @hollycornish

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ariston3 · 8 years ago

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In which Neil had Aspergers and Andrew finds out. Only because Neil runs out of medication

It’s one of Neil’s semester meetings with Betsy. Neil has taken after Aaron now and and so him and Beaty are having a silent stare down. This only lasts a few minutes before Betsy pulls out a small slip of paper, offering Neil and a small but unconvincing smile.

“Neil, you have Aspergers, don’t you?”

It’s so blunt for Betsy that Neil has to blink a few times to steel himself. He only gives a nod in return, his eyes strained on the slip of paper Betsy is holding. He knows what it is and yet she still says it aloud anyways. Typical Betsy.

“This is a prescription I received from the FBI. Being as now that you’re officially a real person all former documentation was gathered to see what you needed and mostly ‘delete’ your past lives. As your counselor I was given this and your contact prescriptions, save you should actually come to need them one day.”

She waits patiently for Neil to respond and when he doesn’t she looks down at the paper and sighs.

“Six different pills. Taken every morning, daily. Do you still have plenty?”

“Yes” Neil lies.

“Does Andrew know?”

Neil stares at her and she gets the hint. She goes to say something, probably that he should tell Andrew that he can’t function properly, but Neil chooses to look at the clock and sees that Betsy’s time is up. He gives her a nods as a sarcastic thanks and all but runs from the room. — He can’t go to Betsy. He can’t go to Andrew. It’s been three weeks since his meeting with Betsy and he’s now sitting with six empty pill bottles in his hands. Neil’s glares at them and prompts them to fill themselves with whispered curses. They remain empty and Neil sighs. He’s been off his meds for a few days on occasion and it shouldn’t bother him to go with out them. Obviously Neil will be fine.

Except he’s not.

It takes three days. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. On Wednesday when Andrew wakes up to get ready for his weekly session with Betsy Neil rolls out of bed with him. He wasn’t sleeping so it wasn’t that hard to persuade himself to get up. He follows after Andrew, who gives him a slightly raised brow but doesn’t question it. He has to speed up his routine so they get there on time and that causes his hands to twitch a bit, but that’s not too bad.

Then Andrew is ready to go and Neil still has to make coffee. He has to make coffee. It’s his routine. He has to.

The coffee is pouring into the pot when Andrew get inpatient.

“Neil.” It’s all he says, but there’s a very slight edge of irritation in his voice. Neil wills the coffee to pour faster. It’s in the pot and Neil picks it up to pour into his cup.

His hands slips and the boiling coffee spills on his hand a bit.

He watches it burn his hand and doesn’t move. He stares at it for a good minute before very slowly saying 'ow’.

He walks to the sink and dumps the coffee in his hand into the sink. He pours some into his cup and watches it cool for all but thirty second until Andrew’s gaze on the back of his head gets to heavy and he chugs down the burning coffee.

He slings his fox backpack over his shoulder (Matt and Dan had insisted with all the books he carried) and the soft thump it makes hitting his back has his thought turning back to the fact that this is not his routine. His hands twitch more.

He goes past Andrew to the door, flicking Andrew only the slightest of glances before he’s already at the stairway.

The drive to Betsy’s work is silent. — Betsy seems only slightly surprised when Neil walks in with Andrew but it only makes Neil want her to be more surprised. Neil and Andrew get comfortable on the couch with a few inches between them. Comfortable being Andrew laid back and stretched out, Neil on the edge of his cushion, head down, hands fiddling with fingers between his legs.

Both Betsy and Andrew watch Neil and wait.

After about ten minutes Andrew says his name, only once, and Neil is reaching into his bag. He pulls out a ziplock bag and takes it to Betsy’s desk, laying it there before returning to the couch. Andrew stares at the bag with Betsy and Neil stares at the ground.

Betsy pulls out the six pill bottles and sorts the into a straight line. She study them for a bit before speaking.

“You ran out three days ago.”

Andrew is still beside Neil, and when Neil finally drags his gaze from the floor to Andrews face he feels guilty. Andrews face is blank but his arched eyebrow speaks confusion and demands an explanation.

Neil is afraid. If Andrew's knows he’ll leave. If he doesn’t he’ll leave. He doesn’t want Andrew to leave. He says as much to Betsy. Andrew very slowly reaches out a hand to wrap around behind Neil’s neck. Grounding him.

“I told you to stay and that you weren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. Now ask.”

Neil feel so many emotions. He’s body is a firework, all his nerves firing, his brain telling him 'he’s going to say no’.

“Stay.”

“Okay.”

Then Neil is crying jut barely. Two years make it out before he quells his emotions enough to nod at Andrew’s response. Then he turns and nods at Betsy. She begins explaining.

“Neil has Major Aspergers, Andrew.”

Neil’s nerves should be dead by how much he’s on edge and afraid of Andrew’s response. It’s killing him inside. But only Andrew blinks a few times before looking at the pill bottles then at Neil.

Neil flinches away from his gaze. He knows Andrew has been around Aaron enough to know what Aspergers is, even if him and Aaron still don’t get along. Andrew beckons Betsy to continue.

“Some Aspergers is minor, but for Neil it’s not so. For Aspergers by itself there is usually only one pill taken. However, Aspergers often has… 'side effects’ you could say. The other five pills Neil take are to help with those side effects.”

She pulls one bottle away. The Aspergers only bottle. She starts to list the others and pulls them away as well, explaining to Andrew.

“Anxiety comes with Aspergers. People with Aspergers tend to have a set routine. Going outside that routine can lead to twitches and panic attacks.”

The look Andrew sends Neil says he is remembering this morning.

“ADHD can also come with Aspergers. This is when people can’t sit still for too long, or they always have to be doing something. However, while there are periods of hyperactivity, where they feel as though they have an excess of energy, there are also period of hypoactivity. This can mean not being able to focus on or doing anything, or focusing on only one thing. Like exy.” Betsy gives Neil a small smile at the gentle prod and Neil only squeezes his hands tighter.

“Next is insomnia. Not being able to sleep or just being awake because you can’t shut off your brain. This can also be caused by nightmares.” Andrew already knows what insomnia is and simply nods.

Betsy looks carefully at Andrew and even more so at Neil before she says the next one. Neil knows it’s coming and tenses. Andrew notices and it distracts him enough that he’s caught off guard by the next 'side effect’.

“Depression is another 'side effect’, especially, after not sleeping and so much pressure from anxiety.” She says it slowly as to not push either of them too far.

Andrew is frozen cold stone, and Neil won’t look up from his hands which are white from squeezing so hard. Andrew whispers a quiet 'yes or no’ to which Neil can barely nod to. But Andrew only puts him hand over Neil’s so gently their barely touching. Neil sighs quietly, but when Andrew’s pinky touches his wrist in a silent question the tears well up again.

“Not since I was 12.”

Andrew’s hand is stretched so tight Neil is afraid the skin may break. He needs to calm him, needs to let Andrew know he can tell him about it, but not here.

“Later,” is all Neil can say. Andrew understands and warily eyes the last bottle.

Betsy taps it before dragging it back to the others. “This one is not always related to Aspergers, but it still affects Neil. It’s eating disorder pills.”

Andrew is quiet and Neil knows he’s scanning his memory. Neil had an apple Sunday and managed to eat a small bowl of soup and noodles. No dinner. Monday Neil had an apple and told the Foxes he would eat at home, heated up the Mac and cheese, took one bite, and threw it all down the trash. He left the dirty dish in the sink for Andrew to see. Andrew realizes this now. Tuesday Neil did not eat an apple and his only meal was coffee with Renee, which he told Andrew was an actual a lunch with food. Andrew also realizes this now.

Andrew’s hand is now tight around Neil’s but not painful. He’s worried and he wants to help Neil. He swallows then nods slowly at Betsy. He turns to Neil.

Neil can’t look at Andrew. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.He cant. hecant. hecanthecantcantca-

Andrew’s hand is behind his neck, tugging his hair slightly, pulling him back to reality. Neil is crying and he can’t stop. Andrew says his name and Neil is sobbing. A quite 'yes or no’ spills from his lips to which Andrew responses by pulling Neil close, draping Neil’s legs over his, and holding him so gently it only makes Neil cry more. But it’s not from sadness. It’s from the fact that Andrew still wants him. Andrew is upset that this hurts him, that he hurts himself. That Andrew wants to help.

It’s the softest, quietest thing Neil has ever heard from Andrew’s mouth when he raises the percentage to 306%. Neil chokes. This morning it was 256%. It raised 50% because that’s how worried and caring Andrew was. It wasn’t the 'I love you’ the Foxes were betting on but it made Neil cry nonetheless.

They stay on Betsy’s couch while she goes to get Neil’s prescriptions filled, and when she returns she hands them to Andrew, giving Neil and apologetic smile. He doesn’t need it. He’s glad Andrew has them.

They return to Fox Tower and stay locked in their dorm for the day, ignoring all the Foxes. Kevin doesn’t even knock or yell once at the locked door or them not practicing. Neil guesses Andrew settled it.

The next morning Andrew hands Neil six pills and a glass of water with breakfast. Neil swallows them and after a quiet 'yes or no’, Neil starts a good day.

#andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #aftg #mental illness

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kinghenrythe3rd · 7 years ago

Text

The Fourth Day

I heard a cluster of noises. yelling, mumbling, endless chatter, weeping, and the sound of traipsing feet across hard, dirty floors. I was curled in a ball on a cracked leather recliner with a number spray painted on the side and covered by a thin hospital blanket. I poked my head out to see rows and rows of recliners in a building that looked like a school cafeteria. I could see the tops of heads, some had sleep spots, some were looking around and twitching. I looked towards the door and saw two big tables with nurses and a couple security guards. Every few minutes, a nurse would yell out a name and a zombie-like occupant of the many recliners would walk over, wrapped in blanket, droopy eyed and would sit at the table, get their vitals checked and exchange words with the nurses. This went on for hours. I could no longer sleep, despite the medication I vaguely remember taking earlier in the morning. There were no windows or clocks, so I had no grasp on the time or what day it was. I could have been here for hours, days, weeks. I didn’t know at that moment, which sent me into a slight panic that woke me up. I got up in an ill fitting hospital two piece and grey socks with grip on the bottom. I tried to talk to the nurses, and before I could finish, she asked my name abruptly. When I told her, she responded, “Don’t come up here until you name is called!” I leaned to the security guard and asked if there was a bathroom. “Yeah, its right there, but be sure to knock because there are no locks on the doors. Don’t want to walk in on someone shitting.” He said. I went inside to take a piss and wash my face. I returned to my recliner and they were passing out sandwiches. They looked like leftovers from prison. An older man sitting next to me, who didn’t seem well, asked me if he could have my sandwich. I handed it to him and put the blanket over my head. I listened to the noise as it seemed to get louder and more chaotic. I could here a man screaming and ripping his blanket from across the room. He was demanding that he was released immediately. The security grabbed him and took him to another room where a nurse followed. How did I get here and why can’t I leave? I kept the blanket over my head, trying to piece together whatever happened to get me here. I couldn’t think straight and everything was foggy. Chaos began to erupt as various individuals became impatient and unstable. I couldn’t blame them. I tried my hardest to keep my sanity so I didn’t lose it like them and end up prolonging my stay in this place. I could feel pain and confusion rising in me like stomach acid. The fear of being trapped in some medical building was grasping every inch of my body. I had figured out that I was in a mental hospital of some sorts and I was brought here by the police. I wasn’t able to leave until the nurses cleared me. I sat up in my cold sweat-covered recliner and looked around. I had to remain clam, despite the mental explosions going on around me, like grenades blowing up on a battle field. For a brief moment, I went under my blanket again, which was my only safe place at the moment, and began to weep as quietly as I could. I could hear my tears pattering against the leather of the chair. My heart was pounding fast and I began falling apart under this poorly woven blanket. I heard a figure approach me. He asked if I was ok, but I didn’t respond. I could tell he was also a patient. A couple more hours had passed and the room became quiet. I assumed it was evening and everyone had gone to sleep. I looked around and saw no movement. The nurses and security guards were still in the same spot, talking to patients one by one. I had prayed my turn would be next. At this point, I knew I had done something bad and that’s why I was here. I began to sink from within myself. A deep depression that I was far too familiar with began to lump up in my throat like a pill. My mind began scattering to all the places it shouldn’t have been. I began weeping again and wondering when I would leave this timeless void. In the midst of my frantic feelings, I noticed a very large, Native American girl that was walking around with her blanket tied behind her back like a cape. She was humming and seemed very happy. Perhaps she was a bit more unstable in the head and didn’t really care about her exterior surroundings. None of my pain or dread subsided, but I kept my eyes on her. In this moment of pure torment that I was withering from on the inside, she confidentially stands up on her recliner and begins to sings. I was suddenly brought to an alarming ease when she started singing a favorite song of mine by Prince. She held nothing back and belted the song like she was auditioning for something. “Baby, baby, baby! Is it him or is it me? Don’t make me waste my time. Don’t make me lose my mind, baby!” Tears were still falling from my eyes from the recent shamble, but I cracked a smile and felt calm for that moment, as this unknown girl began disrupting an entire auditorium full of sleeping mental cases. I didn’t care, I wanted her to keep singing, and she did. My mind wandered to the moment I heard that exact song performed live by prince himself. I could feel a strange sense of hope that I couldn’t explain, I felt like I could make it out of here, and as foolish or nonsensical as it may sound, it was the truest moment I had experienced in awhile. I closed my eyes and kept listening. Suddenly, a nurse yelled at her and told her to keep quiet. My moment was ruined, but right as that moment was ended another started, and it started with my name being yelled from across the hall. I jumped up and walked to the nurses table. “Mr. Carrillo, we’ve reviewed your files and you had stated yesterday in the hospital that you had a medication issue, is that correct?” I didn’t remember saying anything like that, but I said yes anyway. “Ok, well, since you don’t seem like a danger to yourself or anyone anymore, we are gonna refer you to the united psychiatric facility downtown where you can get your meds sorted. Now, you need to call someone to come get you, or we can give you a bus pass.” I had my cell phone in the bag where all my belongings were. I asked if I could charge my phone and call someone. They led me to a room and one of the ladies sat with me while I waited for my phone to start up. A clock ticked above me. 7:34pm. It was no where near bed time, but I still didn’t know what day it was. I made a call to the only person I knew I could count one. I asked the nurse where I was. “You’re at community mental health facility.” I called my friend Taylor and gave him the whole situation. “You're at that place?!” He said. “That place sucks. I was there a few months ago. I’ll be there in 15 minutes” I hung up the phone and began getting dressed. When I was arrested, I didn’t have a shirt on, but I had everything else. Shoes, pants, socks. The lady who brought me to this office opened a box full of clothes and handed my an extra large, aqua blue polo shirt. It hung on me like a bed sheet. I felt and looked foolish, but I was leaving and that was good enough for me. They lead me to a waiting room where I sat for several minutes, awaiting my ride to show up. I felt another wave of sadness come over me, but it was also followed by a severe exhaustion, as if I had gone through a marathon of episodes and blackouts. I felt shame and heaviness, because I knew there were also consequences on the outside that awaited me. My friend,Taylor, arrived and signed me out, he hugged me and made some joke about my shirt. We began walking out and I looked back at the door that led to the cafeteria. It made me shudder. I could feel many emotions and a great sense of relief. The door swung open and a wave of evening heat hit me all over. I stopped on the sidewalk and looked into the horizon. I could see explosions of glistening fireworks scattering through the sky. Bright colors of orange, green, red, purple were glowing against my strained face. My eyes began to water as I felt the warm air against my body and the sounds of the fireworks busting in my ears. They flew up in the sky everywhere around me and crackled all over. I laughed while wiping my tears. “What day is it?” “It’s the 4th of July, man” I stood a bit longer, in awe of the imagery and beauty of the night sky being lit up by fiery, neon glory. I got in the car and as we drove away, I kept my head against the the car window, watching the endless fireworks being emitted from all around me. It was Fourth of July and I felt free.

-Henry Carrillo III

#short story #short poems #fourthofjuly #poems

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