#because the real reason it started wasn’t helen’s fault. it was because of the gods. and she was in the crossfire

[sammayrin]

Allen: The enemy of my enemy is my friend? No, the enemy of my enemy is also my enemy.

Allen: They are fighting over who gets to kill me, though. So it does give me time to escape.

[littleteatimestories]

John Wick x Reader: Start of Something New (3)

A/N: Noice! 🤩✨ Thanks so so so so much for the love and support, guyths! Your LIKES, REBLOGS, and COMMENTS mean the writing world to me. It really keeps me going. Here is Chapter 3. The next and final chapters would be a bit long. Don’t expect much, but I have planned out a second series for this John Wick reader-insert.

As always, enjoy! 😘

(FYI: I still don’t own this GIF. It’s a Tumblr GIF, but I don’t know who created this.)

⇇ Back to CHAPTER 1

⟸ CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

The car ride was silent. John glanced at you briefly while you fixated your eyes on the scenery before you, your hands absentmindedly rubbing on Daisy’s collar. You were also wearing Helen’s bracelet. John asked you to keep it safe.

“So are you going to tell me what the f*ck’s going on?” you broke the awkwardness in the air and scowled at him. You had enough of being kept in the dark after what had happened.

John breathed out. It was time to tell you the truth.

“There are a lot of things that I wasn’t able to tell Helen,” he began as he kept his eyes on the road. “When I met her, I left behind the life I had before. I wanted a normal life with her and I thought sparing her those details would save her innocence. And it did, for five years. I was happy.”

“I could tell,” you remarked as you begin to soften your expression. “Especially when you married her.”

You reminisced the time when you attended their wedding and you witnessed how lighthearted the two of them were, especially John. His smile at that time could almost reach his ears.

“I’m an assassin. A hitman.”

That really perked your ears. This time, you gaped at him.

“You kill people for a living?”

“No. I only kill the ones contracted to me.”

“John!” you admonished. “You still kill people! Oh my god!” You put your hands on your head, suppressing the ache that was about to unfold. “So Helen didn’t know all of this? At all?”

“No.”

You hung your head up next. You can’t believe that not even your sister knew who John really was. And, it had to be you who would find it out.

“Those men dressed in black? Who are they? Are they also assassins?” you inferred further.

“Yes. They were hired to kill me.” He took a glimpse at you and darted back to the road. You were already in New York bridge.

“What the f*ck?! Are you for real?! Why would they want to kill you?”

This time, he didn’t answer. You huffed. “John,” you sternly reached out for his attention.

“That’s a story for another time. It’s hard to explain everything right now. My top priority is to keep you safe.”

You laughed dryly. “My f*ckin’ god, John, I’m not a little girl! I can take care of myself!”

“Would you please just keep your word about trusting me?” his voice rose, which made you flinch. He nasally sighed and composed himself. “I’m sorry. I just...” He swallowed a lump of saliva in his mouth. “Look, I know you didn’t like me because you think I took Helen from you. You’re her sister and I cared for her. That means I care for you, too. So, let’s just trust each other. That’s the only thing that matters now. If you want to know why we’re doing this, I did something and it’s all about survival now.”

You just watched him with a blank expression. You were angry, that’s much obvious, but for some odd reasons, you can’t stay resentful to him.

It wasn’t your fault that Helen became a sister to you.

It wasn’t her fault if she met John Wick and fell in love.

It wasn’t his fault if all his life revolved around being a professional hitman.

And having a group of hired assassins terminate him would make sense. Yet, it made you wonder: why now? Why decide to eliminate him now?

You moved your eyes away from him and closed them whilst inhaling and exhaling a controlled breath. You didn’t know anymore. You wanted ignorance to be bliss for you, but more inquiries kept running in your head.

You opened your eyes.  “Can you at least tell me where we’re going? And why we’re dressed as if we’re going to attend a party?”

Those were the queries he can acknowledge for the time being. “We’re going to a hotel called The Continental. All of the patrons there are well-dressed. You need to be presentable.”

You raised your one brow as you peered at him. You’ve heard of that hotel. “The Continental? I heard that hotel is one of the most expensive hotels in New York. And I also heard that they’re picky with their patrons. They just don’t make reservations to anyone even if you’re a billionaire.”

“That’s because it’s not your ordinary hotel. It’s a safe haven for assassins and other members of the criminal underworld. The only rule you have to follow is that no business can be conducted in the hotel premises. That means no fighting and killing inside. It’s a neutral ground and as long as you’re in there, you’re safe.”

“So you’re bringing me there and leave me there afterwards. Great, just great,” sarcasm laced your voice as you avoided looking at him.

The car pulled over near what was supposed to be the hotel entrance. By the looks of it, the hotel seemed simple in the outside and resembled an ordinary apartment building.

John spoke, “Until things are settled down, just stay in the room or within the hotel. Don’t go outside. If you need something, call the concierge. You can use my credit card.” He drew his wallet out and handed you a black MasterCard.

Instead of being furious at him to which you really wanted to lash out right now, you became concerned and that surprised you a lot. “How dangerous is everything right now?” I’m scared, John. You wanted to add those last words, but you need to be strong. Things were changing abruptly and you need adjust as fast as you can.

John touched his forehead onto yours, both of your eyes closed. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. He then brushed his lips on your temple. You felt security all of a sudden.

He climbed down the car and so did you.

***

“Let me do the talking. Don’t say anything. Don’t look anyone in the eyes. No, no, don’t incline your head down. Just look straight ahead.”

Before entering the hotel, John gave you some sort of tips. Since you’ll be going inside a place full of bloodthirsty criminals, it’s good to just listen to him. You don’t want to have a bullet in your head or a knife to your heart for your first survival within the dangerous world of criminal underworld.

“I get it, John,” you told him confidently.

He seemed unconvinced, but it wasn’t your fault that you were as innocent as Helen.

“Just stay close to me.”

You finally entered the luxurious hotel. Well, if you can call it fancy and rich because everything in here looks... plain, in your opinion.

John walked forward whilst you followed behind. He had a leather strapped bag on his shoulder and a leather hand-carried suitcase in his left hand. You simply had a stroller suitcase and a small strapped purse with you. He discontinued from moving his feet and you did so, too. You looked over his shoulder and the receptionist was still busy dealing with a patron. You accidentally landed your eyes to a handsome young man (probably in his 30s) whose dark brown-colored hair was slicked back nicely and one of his piercing green-colored eyes winked at you along with a smirk. The wrong move you did was to smile back then shifted your eyes to the reception counter.

The female patron was done and eyed John, closing in and pausing beside him.

“It’s nice seeing you again, John,” her voice sounded angelic. She then looked at you. “I didn’t take you as someone having an assistant.” Her words were directed to the man.

“I had to,” he simply replied.

The woman just shrugged her shoulders and proceeded on her way. You were able to be entertained by the receptionist next.

“Welcome. How may I have of service?” He had a somewhat of an African accent, you noted.

“A room, please,” John requested.

“Two rooms?” the receptionist confirmed.

“No. One room. With two beds, if possible.”

The receptionist observed you. You tried not to fidget much and made sure to stand tall as if you’re proud and confident.

“An assistant? I didn’t expect you have one at your disposal, Mr Wick.”

“I just thought it would be convenient to have my own.”

The receptionist just nodded his head. “Room 882.” He handed an antiqued key.

“Thank you.” John slid a gold coin to which the receptionist took.

“Please enjoy your stay and as always, it is a pleasure to see you again, Mr Wick.”

John didn’t say anything and just spoke to you a, “Come on. Follow me,” in which you obliged to do.

***

You reached the room offered to you. It was bare, but elegant and pleasant. There were two beds (thank God for that) and you get to view some parts of New York.

“I need to talk to the manager. Make yourself comfortable. Order dinner, if you’d like. There’s a telephone over there. Just dial 0. Pay using the credit card I gave you,” John directed.

“You can eat first before you go,” you hinted for him to stay for at least a little while. Your nerves were still a little jittery.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not lying when I said that you’ll be safe in here. Just don’t go out of this room.”

“Am I going to just stay in here?” you nearly snapped. “You can’t keep me here, John. If you’re worried that I’m defenseless, I’m not because I at least know how to throw a punch or a kick. And I always have pepper spray with me.”

He breathed out intensely. “These are professional killers, (Y/n). But, fine. As long as you have the pepper spray.” He strolled over to you and hesitated for a moment. He kissed your forehead for another time.

“I won’t take long,” he bade for now.

He temporarily departed and left you alone in the room.

---

CHAPTER 4 ⟹

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Tryst 

Chapter 6- Roma( really more of a non canon outtake I couldnt’t help but write!)

Hi guys! Remember me! Remember them! Uh, they give me to much to work with!

There was something about Harry in Italy.

Helene had to confess, at least to herself, that he looked better here. She wondered if it was because their first tryst had been after the Bologna show. And their last one had been in Umbria. Maybe she wore colored glasses filtered through that special Italian light. The light that was concentrated on the steps of this museum in the eternal city. They'd barely kissed cheeks when she arrived, and she had been communicating with his assistant and Jeff, mostly.

They hadn't talked.

She told herself that was best because, well, boyfriend in the interim or no, she wasn't really over him. He was never really out of sight, she had memory cards full of him, plus the general obsession with him. So, Harry was never really out of mind.

But she had been effectively distracted before she got here. Hadn't even given herself a Harry pep talk. "He likes to fuck you, but doesn't want you for more. He's a good man, but your feelings for him are not the same as his for you," etc. Helene really hadn't thought she needed it.

Rene was home, had been in her bed until two days ago, satisfied all the itches Harry had mapped for her to show to a new man's fingertips.

Helene was sure she didn't need it. That she was Over it, and him, the elusive them. She wondered who Harry had been seeing, offhandedly, without an emotional attachment she reasoned. A man that attractive and skilled deserved a lovely boy or girl to keep him warm.

And that was the last thought she had had about it, she realized. As she cursed her heels and crouched down to shoot an up angle on the steps of Harry driving the crowd gathered for him on the steps wild. She imagined if anybody was looking they could see right up her little skirt. Thank God for opaque tights.

Now, well the all white was striking. And was he always this tall? He smelled different, she'd noticed immediately. Not like a gorgeous wood paneled office and faint cigar, but instead something undefinable and alluring.

Fuck, she was fucked. And suddenly thankful she and Rene had had a open discussion early on about the logistics of sex and two people whose career took them around the globe more often than not.

He'd brought it up, and she thought it was a great idea, though she didn't admit to herself until this moment, watching her boss in beautiful Italian sunlight, that it might have been so sweet to her ears because it would allow her to fuck Harry.

She really wanted to fuck Harry. He flashed his pastel nails at her in a wave and she captured it, in the viewfinder there were trails in the light. Magic.

Magic fingers.

There wasn't time to think much on that. The show was starting and Harry disappeared as he did at public events sometimes. So, she was free to watch the show. By phone light. Apparently, Alessandro was less captivated by light than dark.

The night progressed and she found herself with Harris in the show and later at the party. She was surprised he didn't know Harry was performing, she supposed that was great for him. He still got to be a fan. Helene had long since crossed a line there. She was so much less, his employee. Harry's thought out plans didn't catch her flat footed, because she was documenting them. And so much more, because she knew smell of his inner thigh and taste of his neck.

She really wanted to lick the strong veins in his neck watching him hit that high note with Stevie.

His own, real, high note was throatier. The one she could recall and still felt between her thighs. He'd been resting, his skin glowed and his voice shone.

"Fuck!" She muttered to herself. She was gonna have to decide whether to telegraph her need to him, or steer clear.

That idea went out the window, the left turn away, when Harry made a beeline for her not long into the after-after party at the hotel. Harry was officially off duty now, posted a picture with his new cast mates, including Harris, which explained the young person's excitement. Harry was immediately handed a drink by Jeffrey, in a fetching suit, and his head came up to where she was standing, stashing her camera.

His eye contact was compelling, so she returned it. So much for making herself scarce, if not unavailable. He was walking to her with his fresh drink, resplendent with Italian summer.

"Been a while, love! Look smashing! Like the Yin to my Yang!" He bussed her cheek, then the other. Full continental. And she swore he sniffed her hair. Fucker.

"Yes, you do stand out in all white. I almost feel...boring!" She felt like that sometimes, she was used to being the pretty one in her male/female relationships.

He looked at her sheer blouse. Scoffed, "Hardly!"

"Well, you're hard to one up, fashion wise. Though this look, definitely inspired by the Met gala." She teased gesturing to herself. He'd been nervous, she'd heard, though she had had another gig at the time.

"Oh, well, I'm sure the people would rather see you in a see through top than me." He shrugged modestly.

Helene tapped her temple and raised her brow.

"I'm inclined to disagree." She gave a pointed gaze at the sparrows and was immediately distracted. She wasn't sure what compelled her but, well, it was crooked. Without a thought, she centered the cross in Harry's chest hair.

And further damned, when she'd taken her hand away, she had caught his nipple. It hardened. She wondered if anything else did on him. She knew the effect on her.

He gave her that look, the one that always got her all wet, and her tights were suddenly uncomfortable, sodden.

And then, as always, he'd been spurred away. She's saved, and pressing her thighs together with new all white visions swirling through her head to put her to bed.

She caught up with some singer and Harris. It's a laugh. Something of a distraction. She'd been able to put away her libido, mostly, until would not doubt demand attention in her hotel room.

More distraction was the good wine seemingly self-refilling in her hand.

It was not long before she had to find the toilets.

She’d been washing her hands, when there was a knock. Bold, two rapid taps. Patience was her wish to whoever is out there, or maybe they'd had too much wine as well she thought in sympathy. Hopefully not too bad a stomach.

"Un instant, si vous plait." Came out before she can think in Italian.

"Helene." The voice was unmistakable.

She unlocked the door.

He slid into the low lighting. She wondered if Alessandro had that as a standing order. All dark all the time.

Harry was a bright white spot.

He locked the door, then. Helene watched him do it in the mirror. Immediately, with the sound of it sliding home, he was crowding into her non existent space. The ridge of the sink undoubtedly would bruise her hips. She may have minded, but He’s already caught the back of her blonde hair, turned her mouth to him.

It's less a kiss than a shared breath. He tasted sweet, from minty gum as always, and spicy from the tequila he'd been sipping. Redolent. His new scent, that already made its place in her memory, surrounds her.

His hand was also beneath her skirt, rubbing over the juncture of her thighs. She knew she was wet through. "Fuck, you're hot, wet." Harry breathed against her lips, and it's a kiss too. Their mouths continued to whisper over each other. He gripped her throat and look at her in the mirror, a white field with her tiny frame as a black dot.

"Yes?"

God, that he always asked, sooo hot.

"Yes," leaked out of her mouth.

She felt his finger on the stitching at the side of the white section in the middle of her tights, there at the juncture of her thighs. Where the fabric was weakest, where she is weakest. His painted nails opened a whole. She squirmed to get the finger near the money spot. Anything to get him there.

"Yes?"

He asked again and she wondered if he didn't hear her, or if her verbal agreement wasn't enthusiastic enough. Her bodily concurrence was running into his palm she was sure.

But saying "YES!" To him was so hot.

He agreed, if his "Fuck me!" was anything to go by.

And then the crotch of her tights were an afterthought and she could hear his zipper going down, and keened when his fingers left her.

The sound became a moan when he pushed her forward, arching her back and pressing her cheek to the mirror. Her heavy breath left a mark before retreating a bit.

The fog grew and didn't recede when his ample tip, her favorite inch of him, though the place between his sparrows was giving it serious competition, pressed into her.

"'Arry!" She could have written his name in the exhalation, it was so heavy.

"Helene!" He grit out as he glanced to the side of her cervix. God he was big, and that move alone, that she'd walked Rene through, was worth it.

The next one was definitely more for her than him. If he was looking to shoot his load, he'd maintain those deep, evocative strokes, but instead, he pulled her ass back a little, she grabbed the faucet to support herself now- the mirror wouldn't bear any weight at this angle. He used the distance between her hips and the sink edge to press her belly down, arch her ass up.

"Sweetest little ass. I dream about what you let me do to you last time we were in Italy!" He said between his teeth.

"Ahhh, me too!" Helene moaned when she realized the new angle was all about hitting her spot, that root part of her clit.

"Mon dieu, Harry!"

Her forehead touched the cold metal of the faucet. She couldn't support her neck while he tapped tapped tapped away, nudging her senseless, until her entire body tensed, and released, the flood of energy sizzling in her veins and out her mouth in curses.

"Yes!" he answered himself and switched to the longer strokes while she whined and pulsed out of rhythm around his cock. Aftershocks after he shattered her earth. One proved to be his undoing, and he blew along his own fault line, heaving to a heavy stop

His head, she could feel the sweat through the tight mesh between her shoulder blades, rested on her while they caught their breath and he wilted. She heard him tie off the condom. Laughed when he tossed it into the trash and seemed to not care it was on the top, so the next bathroom user would know somebody had fucked there.

From the look of her, they'd know who.

"Merde." She breathed after she'd straightened her hair. She loved her sex hair, though it was obvious, but when she smoothed her skirt, she saw the growing trails where her stocking were running. She pulled her skirt back up.

"What're you doing?" Harry asked after he'd tucked himself back in. Helene laughed. He hadn't even taken off his rose colored glasses.

"Taking off my tights, they're ruined, and, well, anybody will see the bullseye they are making and....guess?" She shrugged. She didn't really care, but hated to be so indiscreet, obvious.

"No, I can help!" He flashed his brow, and the switch back to boyishness after sex god was forever jarring. Lovely. He picked her up and sat her on the sink and produced the purse she hadn't seen him bring in. She supposed that was where the condom had come from.

"You're carrying nail polish?" She laughed.

"Yeah, when they chip I pick at them, unless I have clear coat." He smiled at her amusement. "Now, quiet, I have to concentrate!" He bent his head and she sympathized with his knees from the crouch he was in. He definitely couldn’t get his white knees on the bathroom filth.

Later, She snapped a phone pic of them as yin and yang. It was their thing, the pictures, and he'd rolled his eyes, but gave good face in the mirror behind her.

She catalogued her changes in her own hotel bathroom when she excused herself not long after, a quick escape to her lodging close by. The sex hair.

And all the tiny dots of clear polish, that she ran hands over like Braille. She almost threw them out, the tights. But they deserved a pictures, or five, to capture Harry.

The boy who'd fuck her over the sink in a public bathroom, then spent 20 minutes preserving her modesty by fixing her tights.

In the morning, she was sad to not see him in the Italian dawn, but was thankful for the Roman night.

The dark inside all of his light.

[ninwrites]

tell me it’s love that i’m feeling

Pairing: Helen Blackthorn/Aline Penhallow

Words: 2610

Summary: helen and aline make the most of their last winter together. 

read on ao3 or below the cut xx 

  “I hate this.”

Aline wrapped the scarf that Helen had knitted her for Christmas around her neck, her fingers trailing along the smooth wool. “I had no idea. In fact, this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it.”

Helen pouted, trying to fold her arms against her chest, only for the bulk of her winter coat to restrict her movement. “I wouldn’t have to mention it if you didn’t keep making me join you.”

“I would never make you do anything.” Aline pointed out. “I asked if you wanted to come, and you said yes. It’s not my fault that you forgot you hated the cold.”

Helen glanced down at her snow boots, despite the fact there’d barely been a flutter since the morning. “Yeah. Guess I’ll know better than to forget that, again.”

Aline frowned, tugging on her favourite gloves, a soft, rosy pink that is only a few shades off her scarf - they were a temporary stakeholder until Helen was able to figure out how to make gloves herself, her last few attempts not quite working out the way she wanted.

(Aline had tried to tell her that it didn’t matter much to her, the thought already meant the world, but Helen insisted that it had to be perfect, and Aline hadn’t been able to speak over the butterflies in her throat.)

“Hey, are you okay? We really don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”

Helen quickly shook her head, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I made a promise. I’m not going to break that.”

“If you’re sure…”

Helen reached out, and Aline felt the touch even through the barriers their gloves made. “There’s nothing else I’d rather do, okay?”

Aline wasn’t sure that was true, but then, she didn’t really feel like doing much without Helen, and any way she could keep Helen by her side was an opportunity she wasn’t stupid enough to pass on.

“Okay.”

Aline had always loved the cold.

There was something enchanting about it all - the sky looked clearer without the sun’s intense rays bearing down; when it rained, it filled the air with beautiful petrichor, and the soothing soft patter of raindrops; when it snowed, it was like watching magic in real time, the pretty snowflakes with their own unique designs, and the way it blanketed the ground and the trees and the roofs of houses, sparkling white under the morning sun.

Helen had always hated the cold. For as long as Aline could remember - and they’d been neighbours since they were six - Helen had complained about it all, the chilly air and the raging thunderstorms and the pesky rain and the way she always got stuck in the snow whenever she tried to leave the house.

Helen adored the summer so much that she held a party as soon as it got warm enough for her to wear dresses without a jacket just in case, although they’ve evolved from fairy cakes and fruit punch to lounging on the grass on beach towels and sipping champagne with their parents sly permission, champagne that they pretended to like because it made them feel cool, especially when they slipped cut strawberries in the glasses just to make the drink fizzle; to inviting their closest friends around to laugh over cheap pizza and two litre soda bottles, pretending they weren’t trying to recapture the youth quickly running from them.

They’d all be off at different colleges soon, Helen to UCLA to study Psychology, Aline to study Political Science (perhaps by the end of it, they’ll be able to come together to figure out what really makes Jia Penhallow tick.) This was the last winter they’d probably get to share together for a long, long time, and Aline wanted to soak it up as much as she could.

Because, yeah, Aline loved the cold. But she kind of loved Helen more.

Not that she’d ever been able to tell Helen this. Somewhere between thinking that her hair looked golden under sunlight and not wanting to spend even a day apart, Aline had fallen for her best friend, and she hadn’t been able to find a way to get back up since. Nor had she been able to find the right time to admit it, because there was always something in the way; new step-siblings for Helen, a forced summer internship for Aline, exams and senior year and crippling finals and their impending future looming over the horizon threatening to split them apart-

Helen was the best thing in Aline’s life, and maybe it made her a coward to keep her feelings a secret, but that was something she was willing to do - she’d do anything, if it meant she got to keep her best friend for as long as they both had left.

Once they went to college, whether they liked it or not, everything was going to change. This was their last winter, their last chance to just be themselves, stable and unchanged and together. Aline just wanted to make the most of it.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Helen.” Aline tugged on Helen’s hands, walking backwards despite the increasingly alarmed look in Helen’s eyes. “Trust me, okay? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Helen didn’t look convinced. “I’m a little more worried about the possibility that you’ve already hit your head and hurt yourself. This is insane.”

“Snow angels are a very common winter practice-”

“Not when the snow is like, four feet deep! We’ll get stuck.”

Aline smiled. “Good thing we have each other then, huh?”

Helen shook her head, but she was smiling too, and Aline knew that she’d won. The snow wasn’t that deep, the sun had already started to melt it in patches, and besides they couldn’t do snow angels without a little bit of actual snow.

“You’re a menace,” Helen declared, letting Aline tug her towards the front lawn - better padding underneath, Aline had reasoned, in case the snow truly did melt too much.

“You love me,” Aline quipped back, not realising once the words were already out how they might have sounded.

Helen just squeezed Aline’s hand and sighed, not looking up from where her boots were sinking into the snow. “Yeah. I do.”

The air felt heavy with something Aline couldn’t name, something she wasn’t sure if she wanted to, her heart pounding against her ribs hard enough for the sound to echo in her ears.

“Are we doing this at the same time?” Helen asked, unaware of Aline’s internal struggles. “Just, flopping onto the ground and hoping it doesn’t completely shatter our bones?”

Aline rolled her eyes, impossibly fond. “You’re acting like we’ve never done this before.”

Helen looked up to the sky. “I tried to block it out, but there are some things you just never forget.”

“Oh, my god, you’re so dramatic-”

Helen tugged sharply on their joined hands, and they fell back into the snow at the same time, the oxygen rushing from their lungs, instantly replaced with bright and uncontrollable laughter. Helen didn’t let go of Aline’s hand, and Aline tried not to think too much about the contact of warmth, or how it felt like nothing else in the world existed but the two of them.

“Payback.” Helen wheezed slightly, her eyes alight with mirth. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

Aline gasped out a short laugh. “All I saw coming was the sky as the world tilted around me.”

Helen glanced up at the sky, a clear cloudless blue, fooling itself slightly that the sun would be able to do much, despite it’s warm glow. “It is a beautiful sky.”

“Yeah,” Aline whispered, unable to take her eyes off of Helen, the way her golden hair fanned out in loose curls above her, her cheeks pink from the cold and pulled into a smile almost bright enough to rival the one in her eyes. “Beautiful.”

Helen wiggled slightly, her legs shifting in the snow. “I don’t know if this will be an actual snow angel or just a vaguely human-sized indentation…”

Aline let her head roll to the side, so that she can watch Helen try and make a lasting form in the snow without craning her neck - in for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever the saying was. If she was going to stare - and it was unlikely that anything else was going to steal her attention away - she might as well be comfortable doing it.

“Is there some quantifiable proof that angels even exist?”

Helen frowned. “No…”

Aline quirked an eyebrow, watching as Helen finally clicked on where Aline was going with it. “Then who’s to say that your vaguely human-sized indentation isn’t an angel? I mean, anybody who tries to argue that it isn’t is just being disrespectful to actual, blob-like angels that may or may not exist. They deserve respect too.”

Helen laughed like there were champagne bubbles in her throat, gentle and warm, and it lit a fire deep in Aline that chased away any cold the snow might have been trying to creep in. It was a wonder that Aline was able to even function with the emotional rollercoaster tracking through her body each time Helen did … well, anything.

“You’re so full of it,” Helen rolled over, with only a slight amount of struggle, until she was properly facing Aline, as though they were lying on Aline’s stupidly big bed and not her front lawn, bound in so many sweaters and coats that they barely through the fairly expansive front door.

“I’m just trying to support your dreams and aspirations.” Aline protested. “Like a good friend.”

Helen smiled gently - it wasn’t her ‘that’s funny’ smile, or her trademark ‘you’re such a dork, Aline’ smile, it was softer, quirked at the corner with a hesitation that easy to read but hard to follow, because this was Helen, and she didn’t hesitate about anything. It was one of the limitless things that Aline admired about her - Helen was, strong and empowered and she went after what she wanted without a thought to anybody who might want to stop her. Helen was beautiful, and smart, caring and supportive and inspiring, she … she was the best person that Aline had ever met.

“You know how, I don’t have good timing with like, anything?” Helen asked, glancing up shyly.

Aline nodded, as best she could anyway. “Your dad banned you from baking after that time when were nine and I wanted to set the timer, but you said that you’d be able to remember and then we smoked the kitchen up so badly that the fire department were called.”

Helen huffed a nervous laugh. “Dad still won’t let me in there unsupervised.”

“Smart man.”

“He is,” Helen agreed. “Thing is, baking isn’t the only thing I’m not that good at. I get complacent really easily, and it can be hard for me sometimes to realise when time isn’t on my side.”

“Are you having a quarter-life-crisis at nineteen?” Aline wasn’t sure if she was meant to be greatly concerned or find it terribly relatable - she was hovering somewhere in a weird limbo between both. “Do we need to crack out the cookie-dough ice-cream and Golden Age Disney films?”

“I mean, that actually doesn’t sound too bad, but it’s not, what I’m trying to get at either.”

Helen pursed her lips together. Aline’s heart started doing hurdles in her chest, as though it was getting ready for a marathon that she wasn’t aware of yet.

“I know, that I should have said something ages ago, but I was scared, and now we’re both going to college soon and we’ll be so far away, and I already can’t stand the thought of being away from you but what makes it worse is the idea that I’ll leave you here without being totally, and completely honest.”

Aline’s heart tumbled over a few hurdles, but seemed quite adamant at not giving up just yet.

“Aline Penhallow,” Helen sucked in a deep breath. “I have loved you since I knew what love meant, since we were six and my father moved Mark and I into the house next to yours, and you came to the door with a plate of store-bought cookies because your mom insisted that you couldn’t say hello without a gift and you were too impatient to wait for her to bake something herself. Since were we were eleven, and you fixed my knee up with a Hello Kitty band-aid after Victor Aldertree tripped me over in the park, and then you kissed above the scratch because in your words, kisses made everything better. Since we were fourteen, and you stayed up all night making me a Valentine’s Card with smelly stickers and a whole tube of glitter covering the front, because love between best friends was just as worthy of celebrating. Since we were sixteen, and you took a whole week off from your internship to look after me while I had a summer cold, and when you drove me four hours to meet with my biological mom when we were seventeen, and spent the next four hours back letting me cry into your favourite sweater, promising me that if she didn’t want to know me, that was her loss.”

Helen exhaled a shaky breath, and it was only then that Aline realised that she was crying - that they both were.

“I can’t go to college knowing that you’re not aware how much I love you. You’re my best friend, you’re - you’re my soulmate, and even if you don’t feel the same, it’s fine, it won’t change anything, because the only thing I ever need is you. I needed you at six, and eleven, fourteen and sixteen and seventeen, and I’ll need you still when I’m thirty, and fifty, and creeping into my nineties.”

“You,” Aline shook her head, tugging Helen forward, until their heads bumped together, both of them sprawled awkwardly, half on their sides. “You beautiful, impossible dork. Those cookies tasted like chalk, the band-aid didn’t even stay on, and you were getting glitter out of your carpet for a month.”

Helen lifted her hand, cupping Aline’s cheek, the fabric of her worn gloves soft against Aline’s skin. “I don’t regret any of it. I’d eat a hundred chalky cookies and set fire to a hundred more fire alarms if it meant I got to spend time with you.”

“I love you more than snow,” Aline blurted out, eyes wide. “You know that, right? Like, I know that snow is one of my favourite things in the world, but you’re at the top of that list. You’re my favourite thing, ever, my favourite person and I - I love you too. I always have. Like, that.”

Helen’s nose scrunched adorably. “I know that, now. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We’re so on the same page.”

Aline tipped her head down, until the edge of her nose bumped against Helen’s. Helen’s smile pressed against the corner of Aline’s mouth, her hand curling against Aline’s cheek. It wasn’t the most sensible place for a first kiss, but neither found a reason to stop; their giggles seeped into each other’s skin even as the snow threatened to do the same, their smiles matching in perfect harmony as they were pressed together, their hearts dancing in tender synchronicity.

College would be calling in the fall, pulling them apart, and there’d be new experiences and new people and new lives to embark on, but just like winter, and summer, they’d always come back.

To where they belong, with each other.

[ask-teamsunrise]

It’s 2am I can’t sleep, so here’s the reasoning behind the names I gave the characters because I’ve been known to spend HOURS trying to find the perfect name for a character.

Saki (Treecko, hero)- The name Saki comes from two Japanese words, Sa which means blossom and Ki which means hope. I thought it was a fitting name. Also, you might have noticed from the one time I drew her human form, but Saki is supposed to be Japanese.

Pallas (Eevee, partner)- Pallas means wisdom, and in Greek Mythology Pallas was the name of Athena’s best friend who she accidentally killed during a spear contest. The partner in EoS is probably the smartest out of all the partners, and explains many things to the player (Mystery Dungeons, the Time Gears, Treasure Town, etc.)

Andy (Bidoof)- Andy is the shortened form of Andrew which means manly. However I didn’t give this name to Bidoof because of the meaning, but instead association. I’ve grown to really love the name Andy (it’s my favorite male name) because I find that most fictional characters with the name to be adorable and really endearing. (Andy from Fantasy Life is a big reason as to why.) So I figured I’d give it to Bidoof.

Maximus (Wigglytuff)- Maximus means greatest. I thought it would be a good name because the name can be shortened to reflect the two sides of Wigglytuff. Max- a shorter, more childlike name (When I hear the name I tend to think of the show “Max and Ruby) to associate with Wigglytuff’s friendly carefree side. While Maximus stands for his more serious and “dangerous” side hence the longer and more intimidating name.

Antonio (Chatot)- Finding the meaning for this was a bit harder, but the most I saw for the meaning is priceless. And a synonym for that word is invaluable. Which is fitting considering that Wigglytuff calls him his “invaluable partner” in Brine Cave. Though funnily enough, that was just a coincidence. Since Chatot’s my favorite character I had some specific requirements for his name. The first was that I wanted it to be musical related. The design of Chatot is heavily based off of music (The quarternote head and metronome tail for example) and even during the game Chatot tends to sing out his words. The second was that I wanted a name I could get a nickname out of. Because the idea of Wigglytuff giving Chatot a nickname was too cute to pass up. I chose Antonio for Antonio Vivaldi, who was a composer. (I played one of his violin solos for a contest once) and for a nickname I came up with Annie.

Clytia (Sunflora)- Clytia means renowned, famous, splendid, and excellent. Okay, I got the mythology wrong, but oh well. In Greek mythology there was a nymph who had that name, and that nymph fell in love with Helios. However he left her for someone else. Angered, she killed that other girl but didn’t gain back Helios’ love. Filled with dispair she sat unclothed without eating or drinking and on the ninth day was turned into a flower called the heliotrope. However, when I read the myth it just said she was so in love with Helios that the gods took pity and turned her into a sunflower. Bit of a mistake on my part.

Louis (Loudred)- Louis means renowned warrior. I think I really was just lazy with this one.

Joey (Corphish)- Joey means he/god may add, which is pretty ironic considering Corphish doesn’t really... do anything. Honestly if you got rid of him there would be no consequences. Anyway, when you go on deviant art and look up Corphish gijinka some of the top results have Corphish with a blue headband wrapped around his forehead. And that headband plus the orange hair reminded me of Joey Richter’s version of Ron Weasley. So now whenever I think of Corphish I think of Joey Richter. (Fun fact! My design of Corphish is actually based off of Joey Richter as well.

Adonis (Croagunk)- Adonis means lord. Now that I think of it there really was no reason for me to give him this name, though if you wanna have a weird time you can look up some information about the Adonis from Greek Mythology! Man... I really need to brush up on my stuff.

Terence (Dugtrio)- Apparently this name has no meaning. It just reminded me of the word “terrain” so that’s why I chose it.

Noah (Diglett)- Noah means rest/comfort. In the Bible Noah and his family were spared from the flood by God. I chose it because of Digtrio’s obsession with the ocean.

Suzi (Chimecho)- Suzi means lily or rose. Originally the name I chose for Chimecho was Suzuki which means bell tree. But when I found it they said it just meant bell... and that it was a first name. And when I realized my information was wrong I was already fond of the name so I chose the next closest.

Hemlock (Koffing)- Hemlock is a poisonous plant that can kill you.

Oleander (Zubat)- Oleander is a poisonous plant that can kill you. (He’s called Ollie for short)

Nightshade (Skuntank)- Nightshade is a poisonous plant that can kill you. However this isn’t Skuntank’s real name. He was just jealous that Hemlock and Ollie were named after deadly poison and he wanted in on the fun.

Hector (Grovyle)- Hector means to check or restrain. In Greek mythology Hector was a Trojan prince, who was considered the opposite of Achilles. He’s known as being kind, even telling Helen that the war wasn’t her fault, and that it was just a war over a man’s sense of pride. One of the scenes from The Iliad involving Hector that stick out the most is the scene in which his son sees him in his armor and starts to cry, and doesn’t stop until he takes his helmet off. Hector is also the name of my mom’s cat.

Faye (Celebi)- Faye means fairy, though it could also mean loyalty or belief. I chose this name because Celebi gijinkas tend to look like fairies and I find that adorable. There’s also a character in Fire Emblem that’s in love with the hero. (Though obviously that’s the only thing they have in common.)

Alastor (Dusknoir)- Alastor has many meanings “he who does not forget” avenger, persecutor and tormentor. Ya’ll really didn’t think I’d give Dusknoir a nice name, did you?

Caspian (Lapras)- Named for the Caspian Sea. Also in CS Lewis’ book “The Dawn Treader” Caspian was sailing a ship for whatever reason. I haven’t read or watched it in awhile. But Lapras’ gijinka captains a boat so it fits. Also Caspian’s uncle was kind of a mad king that tried to kill him and I headcanon Lapras as being Dialga’s adopted son. (Which is why he can go to the Hidden Land.)

Kronos (Dialga)- Kronos means to cut. In Greek mythology he was the Titon of Time.

[blooblooded]

Smiles goes to The Void

"You remember too much,

My mother said to me recently.

Why hold onto all that? And I said,

Where can I put it down?"

--Anne Carson, Glass, Irony, and God

For Smiles, life had degraded into a blur of sameness. The days and nights were repetitive, nothingness. Time passed by too quickly for him to hold on to.

He was 27 years old.

“Pop this zit on my back for me.” Pete’s voice jarred him from a state of spaced out contemplation. He was sitting on his bunk in the dorm, staring straight ahead. Smiles passed a hand across his face to bring himself back into the present, to bring himself out of the blankness. He saw that she had approached him and was in the process of pulling her shirt off.

“What?” he asked. His mouth was dry.

“This zit. It’s on my back, I can’t reach it.”

“Urgh.”

His second in command dropped her shirt on the floor and turned around. Smiles had a full second’s view of her tits before she sat down on his bunk with him with her back toward him. “I can’t get it.”

Over the last few weeks, Pete had become increasingly difficult to deal with. Always challenging him. Checking him. Calling him out. It was that time. He knew that she could sense the change within him, the growing weakness. It was only natural. She could smell blood. More importantly, she could sense that he was no longer in control. She wanted to be in his position so that she could do better than he could. The only problem was that he was still around.

Maybe she was right.

Smiles pressed the spot in the middle of her back with two thumbs. “Does that hurt?”

“Yeah. Get it for me.”

He grimaced and pressed hard until it popped, then wiped it on her skin. Her skin was hot to the touch. Pete leaned back against him and Smiles was able to cop a feel. It didn’t bring excitement like it used to. At this point, after what…5 years of working together, he still found her attractive, but too…something. Too familiar.

It wasn’t normal to want to fuck someone who thought you were old and used up, irresponsible.

Two days ago she had told him he needed to file a formal request to step down as Primary agent on the team. He had rejected that. It wasn’t something he was able to do. Until the day he was Retired, until the day his handlers dragged him away and put a bullet in his head, Smiles would remain responsible for Pete, Nickels, and Johnny.

That day was coming soon. He could feel it. He could see it in the way the staff looked at him. He could hear it in the way his own team talked about him.

“Why are you so fuckin’ greasy?” he asked her.

“Like you aren’t covered in backne.” Pete made herself comfortable against him and reached back to press a hand to the crotch of his sweatpants. When nothing happened, she tilted her chin up and her eyes back to look at him. “Your dick still broken, huh?”

Smiles didn’t even try to move her hand from grabbing at him. A few months ago, before he had been electrocuted by the red haired Artificial trying to escape Eden, they had fucked all the time. Now it felt impossible to muster up any interest for anyone, much less the girl who constantly accused him of not caring enough for his team.

He was worried that the problem might be that he cared too much. That he could not separate himself from them.

“Yeah, I found popping a huge pimple on your back so sexy,” he said, attempting to joke. He had to joke. Over the last few months it had felt like a huge scream had been building up inside of him. There was no release for the scream, it felt more real than he did. Nothing he did could bring release.

Pete left his bed and picked her shirt up off the floor. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat like it always was, a side effect of a body temperature that ran too high.

Burning. She was always burning. She loved him, she cared about him, but in the end she would burn him up. That was the destructive nature of fire.

Smiles passed his hand across his face again, resisting the urge to hit himself to jar himself out of his state of depersonalization.

This had all started when he had failed to stop the group of extremists from driving through the gate. Nothing had been the same since that day. He had become slower, caught up in his thoughts. Movement and instinct were no longer natural. Smiles found himself thinking about those people more than he thought about himself. Their faces were in his dreams and those dreams bled into his reality. Ever since that day, he had started to screw up.

No. Not just since that day. Ever since he had found the blonde blood magic user’s work ID on the floor of Helen’s temple. Even before he saw the young woman in person, he had dreamed of her with black slime and blood dripping from her mouth and nose and ears. It wasn’t fear or disgust that he felt when he thought about that either. No, it was dread, the same helplessness he felt when he thought about being unable to stop the terrible things happening to his team.

This was what going insane probably felt like. Smiles had lost it. He knew that everyone could see.

It was only a matter of time.

“Nicky should be coming off her shift Upstairs soon, you better be nice to her.” Pete stretched her strong arms up above her head then easily bent to touch her toes before moving down into a plank and beginning a sun salutation. Her physical and mental control, so carefully practiced, were unmatched. They had to be. She wasn’t like Smiles. If Pete lost control, she would burn this whole place down to the ground.

Would that really be so bad?

“When am I ever not nice to her?”

Pete exhaled a small sarcastic breath. She finished her sun salutation and began another one. “Right. Think about why Nickels keeps getting assigned TP work instead of field work with us, or why Johnny snuck out of here this morning before we woke up.”

Bitch. She was such a raging bitch. Smiles rose from his bed to stand next to her. He touched his toes and the knee on his left leg, his bad leg, popped. “Nicky’s on brainwash duty because they can’t get their hands on enough psychics to kidnap, get off my ass, that’s not my fault. If staff wants to assign B-Class telepaths to disintegrate the new kids’ brains, that’s on them. They know what they’re doing.”

It had already occurred to him that the Program was somehow deteriorating. The dorms could house up to 150 secret police agents, but by his count, there were 108 of them left. When he had been Recruited, agents were likely to be terminated for stepping out of line or getting injured. Now? It was like the higher-ups didn’t want to risk it. It was not out of compassion, it was out of not being able to kidnap enough kids to keep the Program running smoothly. Something was happening on the outside. Something was getting in the way of Recruitment.

As busy as he was, he did not have the capacity to figure out the why’s or the how’s of this. All he knew was that now, because of the difficulty of discovering psychics, there were only about 35 of them in the Program, and only half of those were A-Class. So B-Class telepaths like Nicky were stuck on brainwashing and torture duty when they were ill suited for it. In the old days this would have never happened. Smiles was selfishly grateful for it, since it meant he was less likely to get hauled Upstairs to get his mind violated.

He tried to mimic a pose that Pete twisted herself into but was not flexible enough for it. “You seem particularly devious today, Peanut.”

“No reason to be devious. I’m just saying. And you seem particularly spaced out and mean, but hey, what else is new.”

Smiles responded with a short bark of laughter with no real fondness behind it. “You know me.”

“I know you’re getting old.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She fixed him with a look even as she moved through her routine of stretches. In the years that they had worked together, she had grown from a chunky, angry teenager to a strong, composed young woman. She had no issues with calmly starting conflict. “You think any more about filing a formal request to step down?”

“Fuck you,” said Smiles. He stopped mirroring her poses and crossed his arms.

“Yeah? So what happens to us when they put a bullet in your head a month or two from now? They'll split us up. They’ll make Nicky work Upstairs permanently until she starts getting seizures and brain bleeds, then they’ll put her down too. They won’t even bother putting Johnny on a new Squad since he’s C-Class, he’ll just have to be a free floater and work with those kids who treat him like shit. Me, they’ll reassign me to work on an Elite Squad, they’ll make me burn people. They’ll make me really hurt people. Do you want that for us? If you put me in charge then we won’t get split up after you’re dead. I can keep us together. If you really cared about us then you’d step down.”

These thoughts had already occurred to him. They had occurred to him months ago, when he realized that he was starting to get caught up in...whatever was going on in his mind. The...memories, the dreams he was having. It was the obvious choice, the smart choice. But Smiles did not want to accept it.

“Fuck you,” he said again. “Fuck you, Peanut.”

Infuriatingly, Pete smiled at him, then dropped into the splits. “Well you’re definitely not fucking me, or anyone else, Boss.”

He considered throwing a punch at her and starting a tussle, the way that they always used to end arguments. He didn’t.

The temperature in the dorm room rose. Smiles didn’t comment on it.

Soon, Nickels returned to the dorm room after her shift working Upstairs. She looked tired. No, tired was not the right word for it. She looked drained. Her pretty, fat face was greyish colored and a dribble of blood showed in both her ears. Smiles could see that the pupils of her black eyes were hugely dilated. When she saw her teammates, she gave them a vacant, empty smile.

She looked like Lady.

“Dust leaking trees the black pyramid,” said Nickels.

Smiles and Pete looked at eachother, then back to their 20 year old companion.

“What’s that, Nicky?” Smiles asked nervously.

Her eyes were black. Blood trickled out of her ears and down her neck. “All over horses to go to night.” And she wobbled like she was going to fall over.

Instead of standing there like an idiot, staring, Smiles went to her and led her to his bunk so that she could sit down. Sweat had saturated her tank top and there was something else on it too, something that looked like thick mucus. He helped her strip it off, then grabbed a water bottle so that she could drink. “Snap out of it,” he said, trying to hide the fear from his voice. “It’s not real.”

The blood in her ears worried him. The word salad worried him more. There was a reason that psychics did not last long in the Program, especially low level ones.The human brain could not tolerate being overused like that, and it was not natural for someone to go into another person’s mind for extended periods of time.

Nickels took a sip of water. Some of it dribbled out of her mouth. She looked at Smiles and he rubbed the soft stubble on her head.

This was the part he hated most. It was not so bad when he was suffering, he knew that he could handle it. Smiles could power through, he could put the soft, scared parts of himself away in a box somewhere. It was this. Being forced to watch, to see the suffering of others and being unable to do a single thing about it.

If anything happened to Nickels, he did not think he would be able to stand it. It was no secret that she was his favorite-- how could you not have a favorite? Even though she was part of a group of people he despised, he couldn’t help but love her. Pete could be bossy, pushy. Johnny could be clingy, annoying. But Nicky? She was special to him, a sister.

“Fuck those fuckers,” said Pete a little choked up, standing there, unmoving. “Why are they doing this to all of us?”

They -- whoever ‘they’ were, in his 7 years in the Program, Smiles had never been able to find out -- were doing this because they could. Because they wanted to. Because they didn’t care. To them, the minds and bodies of over a hundred young people were nothing more than commodities to be used up.

“Snap out of it,” he said again, more to himself than to his teammate.

And after 10 minutes, she did snap out of it. Nickels’s pupils returned to their normal size and some color returned to her face. “I think I’m gonna throw up,” she said. “Sorry. They had me working on some guy all morning.”

“If you puke, don’t do it on my bed,” said Smiles, unbearably relieved that she was speaking in full sentences again. “Fuck me, Nick, I thought you were permanently disabled or some shit.”

She noticed that her shirt was off and crossed her arms to cover her bra and the rolls on her stomach.. Out of the 4 of them, Nickels was the one with the greatest sense of modesty. “It was fucked. They never have me work on civies but Lady is sick so they put me on rotation. Dunno what they were thinking, I’m just a telep.”

“They had a civilian Upstairs?”

“Some guy, he has dreams R&D wants to get into or something. They got pissed because I can’t see images, only words. I kept trying to explain but they wouldn’t listen.”

Smiles didn’t know why the scientists in R&D would drag a civilian Upstairs to their creepy labs. He didn’t care much either. Better an adult man get tortured and have his brain invaded than some scared 13 year old kid. He rubbed Nicky’s head again, knowing that it brought both of them comfort.

Of course, Pete had a healthier sense of curiosity. She sat down next to Nickels as well. Nickels flushed. “What do you mean dreams they want to get into?”

“I dunno. Dreams. It’s not like I could see anything. They need someone like Lady or Wicker for that.”

“But the guy was thinking?”

“Not lucidly. There was something wrong with him, it was like trying to read a crawler. Scrambled and shit.” Nickels touched her ears and winced. She brought her hands away to look at the blood. “Some of his thoughts were pretty clear though, not like that was useful to me. Like, ‘It wasn’t me!’ and ‘Talk to me, Marty,'' blah blah blah, over and over again. Useless shit. That’s when it started hurting me. I tried to tell that Handler cunt Alaska I wasn’t getting anything but she just smacked me until I kept going.”

Pete made a low sound of frustration. She got up from the bed and moved back into her series of sun salutations.

On the other hand, Smiles felt like he was the one who had been smacked. Something about the name Marty made him feel bad inside. Presumably it had been the name of someone he had known in his life before, and it had not been the first time he had heard it lately. The extremists in the truck, the ones who had escaped Eden those months before, had said that name, and he had felt the same horrible unease. Presumably this was unrelated. Marty was not an uncommon name.

Still, it made him feel sick to hear it. It made him sicker to hear about his subordinate’s abilities being misused. He rubbed Nickels’s head one last time, then stood up.

“You good, Nicky?” he asked her, fear and dread growing inside of him. At the rate that they were forcing her to use her abilities, she would die of an aneurysm before he even got Retired. “You feel OK now?”

Maybe Pete was right. Maybe he needed to step down.

His little psychic looked up at him, completely trusting and loyal. She was still pale and he could see the dark circles under her eyes. How could anyone hurt her? How could anyone make her hurt other people? The scream that had been building inside of Smiles threatened to come out.

“I’m all good now,” she said. “I just need a nap.”

Smiles clenched his fists. The dorm room felt way too hot.

He couldn’t fix much, but he could try to fix this.

“You stay here with her,” he told Pete, who was again twisting her body into something painful. Did that really help? Did that really keep the anger, the helplessness at bay? Nothing he tried ever helped. Exercise didn’t help. Breathing didn’t help. Nothing fucking helped, he was just stuck with his negative feelings unless he put it away in a little box, pushed it away inside. And that didn’t address the source of the problem, now did it? “I’m gonna go talk to staff and ask them to take her off Upstairs duty.”

Did Pete’s careful breathing sound angry? What was she keeping deep down inside? What was trying to get out of her? Smiles wondered if there was a scream building in her stomach as well. She didn’t even look at him. “Fine,” she said. “Go pull Johnny out of wherever he’s hiding while you’re at it.”

How could she say that that easily? The prospect of finding their youngest teammate and the trouble he got himself into was never a pleasant one. And she always pushed it off onto him because she couldn’t stand to deal with it. The last time Pete had attempted to deal with Johnny’s behavioral problems herself, she had sent Coop, a 16 year old neuro-path with repulsive proclivities, to the Infirmary with 3rd degree burns. Staff had locked her in solitary for a week after that.

Smiles looked back at Nickels, who had laid down on his bed. She had curled her arms up like she was comforting herself. His stomach flipped.

“I’ll fix this,” he said, but the girls weren’t listening to him. And he left.

He stomped down the dorm hallway. Only a bunch of C-Class 13 year olds were up and about, they scattered when they saw him. Even though they had no reason to be scared of Smiles, word spread. He did not have a reputation for being friendly. That was fine. That was just fine. He didn’t want to interact with the majority of the little monsters in here anyway.

This place was killing him. The dormitory walls were all painted a light green so that they did not appear so institutional. Some stupid posters, the kind with cute animals and therapy-speak phrases like “Pause and Reflect” and “Think before you Speak” hung at different points in the hall. They hung right alongside notices that all behavior was being observed by staff and violations of policy would be addressed immediately with appropriate consequences.

He walked past dorm rooms, many of them empty. The lounge was empty as well. Best not to think of that, best not to think about their dwindling numbers. Or why they were dwindling.

The main office was located above the dormitory floor, on the same level that the training rooms were located. Smiles took the stairs instead of the elevator. There were no cameras in the stairwells, but there was one mounted in the elevator. He took the stairs 2 at a time and spent a moment at the top to prepare himself before he pushed through the door.

He walked into the office. It was never locked, no, staff tried to encourage agents to come to them whenever needed. Not that anybody ever did. It didn’t take long for newbies to realize that the Handlers and dorm staff were worse than anyone on the inside, and had more power. If another agent beat the shit out of you or molested you, at least you could fight back. Maybe even report it if you caught one of the more sympathetic staff members. If a Handler had it out for you, you just had to take it.

Over the years, Smiles had learned one thing for sure: all the freshly graduated Artificials that got hired on as staff had to come from some repressed, unpleasant homes. Maybe they were all like...that. So far, he had not come across a single one in his life that did not have severe emotional issues.

The office was painted the same green as the dorms were and it had the same stupid posters on the wall. There was a big desk that held a monitor with a bunch of camera screens on it. There was a couch in front of that desk, presumably to encourage dumb newbies to sit down and spill their guts. The entire place would have made for a believable high school guidance counselor’s office, and Smiles hated it.

He had hoped that a new or easily manipulated staff member would be on desk duty, but no, no such luck. It was only October. October --Nickels had read his mind once and gleaned that his real name was Henry-- was one of those creepy later stage Artificials, around the same age as Smiles. Some Artificials mostly appeared normal, but some…came out wrong. October was tall and muscular and had an eerie, uncanny valley face that was only made less creepy by a perpetual expression of lazy insolence. When he saw Smiles walk in, he rolled his heavily lidded eyes.

“Whatever it is, I don’t have time for you,” he said. He was watching videos on his tablet.

Smiles could never bring himself to grovel, especially in front of a piece of human garbage like this. He had really been hoping for the Handler named Saturday, since her rapport with the team bordered on sympathetic. “I don’t want my psychic assigned to any non-field-work objectives from now on,” he said. “I’m serious.”

“Ahh’m serious,” mocked October, mimicking Smiles’s flat Lower Levels accent. He put down his tablet and leaned on the desk. What did these people do all day when they were not harassing others? “What are you gonna do, file a complaint?”

Smiles gritted his teeth. “She’s B-Class. She’s just a telepath, and is more useful on the field. You people are gonna liquify her brain, she just got off shift with blood in her ears, talkin’ nonsense. I don’t want her working Upstairs anymore.”

“She’s a psychic. They all have to carry their weight around here, even your fat little telep.”

“Why can’t you just make Lady go on permanent brainwash duty instead?”

October fixed him with a strange look, a weird, tense smile. “Maybe BG doesn’t want his precious psychic’s brain leaking out of her ears either, huh, you ever think of that? Maybe this place doesn’t revolve around you and your people, Smiles. No. Psychics get assigned psychic work. The rest of you get field work. You got a problem with our schedules, take it up with someone else.”

One day, whenever Smiles got dragged upstairs to get a pullet between his eyes, he hoped that October would be working. On that day, he would do whatever it took to take him out with him. There was nothing that would bring him more pleasure than to hurt him as severely as possible.

He shifted his weight slightly. His bad leg was hurting him again.

“What needs to happen to get Nicky off those shifts? What, you people need to Recruit more A-Class psychics? What do I need to do?”

“Nothing. That’s just the way things are. Quit complaining.”

It was useless to appeal to this person’s better nature. This person did not have a better nature. Smiles attempted anyway. “I’m responsible for her.”

That got a reaction. October scratched his eerily perfect nose, then stood up. The uniform that they all wore was black and unremarkable. “Yeah?” he asked, coming around the desk and into Smiles’s personal space. He smelled good, like expensive cologne. “You’re good at being responsible, Smiles? Why can’t you stop your telepath from getting sent Upstairs then? Why do I keep hearing about how guys have been running a train on your Artificial? Why can’t you even take care of yourself, then? The way I see it, the only responsible one on your Squad is the pyrokinetic. What were you saying about responsibility?”

He couldn’t help it. It was a reaction that October wanted, and it was a reaction he received, even if Smiles knew that it was all true. The anger was not something that he could control. His right hand twitched upwards like he was about to strike out.

For a moment, they both looked at each other. Two men of the same age, who under other circumstances, out in the world, might have also worked together or gone to school together. Might have even been friends. There was a world where both their lives had not been irreparably changed by being made to be violent to others.

Lazily, the same way he did everything else, October gave Smiles a little shove backwards. It wasn’t hard, it didn’t hurt him. It was just enough to remind him who was really in charge. Just enough to remind him that no matter what, he couldn’t do shit. Just enough to make him feel small.

“Get out of here,” said Smiles’s Handler. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

And Smiles followed orders. Smiles left.

He paused again in the stairwell to collect himself. That could have gone a lot worse. He would try again, he would come to the office when Saturday was working and try to get her to see his point of view. And if that did not work, he would go to someone else, again and again.

It was fruitless, yes. But it was something to do. It was something he could do to stop himself from feeling so helpless.

He wanted to take it out on someone. The best way to stop feeling weak and worthless was to go hurt someone else, go make someone else feel weak. There was no time. Smiles had more important things to do.

After all, he was responsible.

He wandered the hallways of the dormitories for a while. It didn’t take long. As the saying goes, bad pennies always show up. Smiles caught his youngest teammate slinking out of a bathroom and pinned him with a mean look.

To his eyes, Johnny looked bad. There were stains on his t-shirt and he moved in a wincing, cringing dog kind of way. Obviously hurt; either he had been jumped for annoying the wrong person, or he had allowed other kids to mess around with him again. Probably the latter. He had been in bad shape for a while now. Just like the rest of them, he was angry, trapped, lashing out in what small ways he could.

Smiles approached him and Johnny froze like he had been caught doing something wrong. “Hey,” said Smiles. “Where’ve you been hiding, huh? Peanut’s worried sick about your dumb ass.”

Johnny looked at him mistrustfully. Like Smiles, the last 6 months had marked a distinct change in him. Maybe it was because he was 16 now, no longer the playful, loving child he had been when he was Recruited. But Smiles didn’t think that was it. His affect and attitude often changed to reflect those of whoever he spent time with, a weird and chameleon-like emotional ability. 6 months ago he had behaved more like...well, more like Smiles. “Why don’t you leave me alone?” he asked.

“OK. After you tell me where you’ve been for the last 3 hours. You want me to write you up? You can’t just fuckin’ disappear like that when the team’s on call.”

“It ain’t my fault, Boss.” As usual, Johnny’s tone pitched to a whine. “I wanted to hang out with Major and his buddy. Well. I only wanted to hang out with Major because he said he’d let me kiss him this time. They didn’t let me leave, the door was locked, you can’t write me up for that, that’s not fair.” He paused. “They didn’t even kiss me.”

Major was a 17 year old C-Class agent who had a sadistic history, a long list of assaults. Smiles took a menacing little step towards Johnny. He already felt the uncontrollable rage rising up from his belly. “Oh yeah? That sounds like gang rape.”

Johnny smiled vacantly and rolled his luminous yellow eyes, but came off as pathetic, a kid trying to act more mature and worldly than he was. “Gang bang, Boss. I’m really good at--”

“--Yeah? They lock the door for that? Lock the door for hours?” He needed emotional help that Smiles could not provide. “Infirmary. Now.”

“I don’t need to go to the Infirmary, I need—“

Tired of this. Smiles was so tired of watching someone he cared about, someone he loved, put himself in these situations over and over again. Self destruction was nothing new in the secret police, there were people who were so hurt or angry that they wanted that same pain to show on the outside. In a way it made sense. How was this any different? Smiles couldn’t even get rid of the problem, couldn’t just go beat the shit out of the little freaks behind this, because they were all the same age, all boys who were 16 or 17.

Well. He could. Could if he wanted to. And he still might. What was it to him if he went and hurt a couple of teenagers? Why did he have some rule in his mind that he wasn’t supposed to target those who were under 18? Teenagers could be just as twisted and nasty.

It made him angry too and it was hard, impossible, not to take out that anger when the source was right in front of him. The desire to protect, masquerading as anger. Smiles grabbed Johnny’s wrist so that he couldn’t get away from him. “Today isn’t the day,” he said, starting to drag him down the hall. “Not the fucking day.”

“Ow! Let me go!”

But Smiles didn’t listen. Smiles dragged him all the way down the hall and all the way to the elevator that led up to the Infirmary. He ignored everything. He ignored the whining, the crying, and did what he needed to do. Smiles always did what he needed to do. That was responsibility. He could be responsible.

In the elevator, Johnny pushed his body up against the wall so that he was as far away from Smiles as possible. “I hate you,” he said.

“Aw, you hate me now?” Smiles pressed the elevator button multiple times as hard as he could, as if that would make the trip up faster. “Fine. I like that just fine.” He was used to the little mood swings, the rapid fluctuations between obsessive admiration to frantic dislike. Doc had told him about it, said it was called splitting. It wasn’t something that could be fixed, just like his own dissociation couldn’t be fixed.

Or maybe it could, out in the real world. In the Program, what was the point of trying to treat mental illness? There wasn’t a point, the only thing that could be done was make the symptoms a little easier.

“Pete says you’re gonna be dead soon. Then you won’t be so mean to me anymore.”

Smiles mashed the elevator button. He wanted to be done. Johnny smelled like piss. “Maybe I will be. You ever think about what’s gonna happen to you once I’m not around to find you? One of these days someone’s gonna keep the door locked.”

“Probably be better off then, Boss.”

What Johnny probably needed was a good hard smack, but Smiles didn’t raise a hand to him. In the long run, corporal punishment wouldn’t do any good. You couldn’t smack the delusions out of a person. Smiles continued mashing the elevator button until the door stopped, dinged and opened.

“Come on.”

“I told you I don’t want to see the doctors. They-- they make fun of me!”

Smiles grabbed his arm again anyway. Johnny dug in his heels and pushed back, for a minute it seemed like he was going to try and hit him, but Smiles easily overpowered him, seizing a handful of his shirt and shoving him out of the elevator. He didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t want to upset him. Smiles just didn’t know what to do or how to help.

The Infirmary was one of the few places in the Capitol Building that was not dormitory that the accessible elevator led to. As such, it was painted white and had none of the stupid posters. The Infirmary was part of Upstairs-- it was only a few small rooms on a floor dedicated to....Research and Development. Smiles understood not wanting to go there.

He walked up to the front desk, pushing Johnny in front of him. It looked like the only nice nurse-- Doc, a big man with a soft accent-- was not on shift. Doc only worked there part time, 2nd shift a couple of nights a week. Instead, a young woman with cornrows and blue scrubs was on duty.

“You again,” the nurse said flatly.

He showed his teeth with a threatening smile. It was true, Smiles ended up in the Infirmary often due to his rash behavior. Sometimes staff made him go, claiming that he was ‘manic’ and needed to be sedated. “Me again. 3385C here needs medical care.”

“Why?”

“Will you just fuckin’do your job and make sure he’s OK?” Smiles didn’t want to embarrass himself.

The nurse rolled her eyes and got up. “You know the drill,” she said, pointing towards the exam room and walking back without waiting. Johnny followed her, but not before giving Smiles one last yellow look of blame.

The definition of blame is to assign responsibility for wrong-doing. Smiles thought about how he was about to be responsible for kicking the shit out of someone in the near future. The white walls of the Infirmary made him anxious, he had had too many bad experiences there-- and worse ones in the Research and Development rooms that lay beyond. He wasn’t about to wait around for his youngest teammate to get checked out.

Even though it was what Pete would have done.

No. What was he thinking? Pete wasn’t capable of doing anything that wasn’t her precious breathing exercises and yoga. She couldn’t make the hard decisions, not like him. Why was he so focused on her? How had she gotten into his mind so easily?

Something had happened to him. Whether it was the aftereffects of almost getting his guts spilled in Helen Gutierrez’s blood magic temple, or if it was the girl with the curly blonde hair he kept dreaming of, something had made him stupid and weak.

He wasn’t going to be around much longer.

“What’s wrong with you?” A squeaky-toy voice jarred him from his thoughts and made him flinch. Lady. Smiles had forgotten that Nickels had said she was sick.

Lady had come out of another exam room. She appeared...worse than normal. Thinner, if that was even possible. Paler, definitely. When she smiled at him, he could see that her teeth were greyish, translucent. An IV was stuck in her arm, attached to a bag of fluid on a rolling hanger.

Nope.

“Not today, bitch.” Smiles didn’t turn around, didn’t want to take his gaze away from the fragile but terrifying young psychic. He stepped back. “Get away from me.”

How was it possible that this stick insect person had gotten into his brain, his memories, and tortured him so much? He could probably kill her with one good punch to the throat.

The grey pants and shirt she wore were too big for her, but were part of the uniform that top psychics were supposed to wear when they worked Upstairs. Lady blinked slowly, as if even that was difficult for her. “Is your telepath sick yet?” she asked.

“What?”

“Your telepath. Is she sick yet? We’re all getting sick.”

Smiles eyed her. He was afraid of Lady, but she wasn’t known to be a liar. At least, she had always been truthful to him. There was no point in a psychic as powerful as her to lie or be lied to; she could dig the truth out of anyone the same way a bird pulls a snail out of its shell. “The fuck you mean, sick? Sick like a cold?”

“No. Sick like...brain sick.” Lady placed one of her spidery hands on the point where her IV was connected to her arm. “They have us trying to crack this civilian. His mind is...it’s beyond the Rift and they want to see inside. They want to see the black pyramid in the Void. Everyone who looks, something happens.”

Dust leaking trees. The black pyramid.

“Nickels isn’t sick.” He stared at his enemy, at her weakness. If something was happening to her brain because of what she was being forced to die, he hoped that she would die. But Nicky had been forced to do the same things. “She didn’t see anything, she’s just a telep. What the fuck are you talking about, sick?”

He was scared now. You couldn’t catch anything from reading a mind. You could go crazy, yes, Lady was proof enough of that. But you couldn’t get sick. The brain was just wet tissue containing millions of nerves, synapses. There were memories, there was pain and joy, but there was nothing...nothing that could spread.

Lady’s nose began to bleed and she absently watched it drip onto her ill fitting grey shirt. This was a person who had been completely broken by the Program. There was nothing left inside of her except the sadistic desire to inflict pain on others. BG could try to protect her all he wanted to, but it was too late. They had used her up. They had used every part of her up a long time ago.

It was sad, but it was the fate of every psychic. Smiles felt no pity for her. He couldn’t. She had caused him too much pain over the years, even if she had been commanded to do it.

“What do you mean, sick?” he repeated, not wanting to get any closer to her. “What guy? What fucking guy do they have you people working on back there?”

She used the back of her hand to wipe her nose. “I think I’m going to be dead by next year,” she said, sounding strangely contemplative. Some of the blood from her nose got into her mouth and stained her teeth. “I’ve been there the most. My mind, I mean. In the Void.”

There was no Void. It meant nothing to Smiles. More crazy psychic talk.

Smiles couldn’t help it, he stepped towards her, close enough to touch. “Lady,” he said. “What guy? What Void? Nickels was talking about some black pyramid earlier, what is it? What fucking guy?”

She looked up at him. Her black eyes were enormous and the pupils had overtaken the whites. “Nobody. He was nobody, a man named Lee Harlan. One of R&D’s projects, but there’s a lot more of them now. They put crawler blood into his head and now he’s somebody, one of the links between here and, and the other place. They make us see it. They make us look at it.”

For a moment, Smiles was no longer there. He was no longer in the room with her. His mind became peacefully blank, protecting him from the panic that rose from hearing a name he did not recognize but for some reason understood. He dug his own fingernails into his palm to bring himself back and stood there stupidly staring at the sick psychic in front of him. Lee Harlan. Marty. He knew those names, knew them better than he knew his own. His heart pounded in his chest and he could feel his eyes bulging.

Crawler blood. One frenzied thought occurred to him then, as it had before: why did they always collect the slime from the little goo aliens when they were sent out to terminate them?

He was aware that he was shaking and he didn’t know why.

“They make me go into his head and look at that place,” said Lady, and it was like she was not seeing him. Her gaunt face was just big black eyes and a smear of blood. She looked like she was about to break into pieces. “I don’t want to look.”

From far away, Smiles heard his own voice: “Look at what?”

And then, Lady was no longer looking past him. She smiled and held her hand out. “I’ll show you,” she said.

There was no time to move away. Lady pressed her hand to Smiles’s cheek and her skin was as cold as ice. Cold like a corpse’s.

And Smiles looked.

It wasn’t real and he wasn’t there, he knew that much. This was simply Lady’s memory of going into someone else’s memory. This was only images that she was projecting into his mind, images and sound. But it felt real. It felt so real.

Smiles found himself standing alone in a vast desert of white sand and a sky so red that it looked like a sea of blood. The horizon stretched on forever. There were grey rocks all around him, huge monoliths of absurd shapes, twisting themselves into geometry his mind could not comprehend. There was no wind, no living things. No moon or stars or clouds, but fleshy, pulsating orbs hung in the sky like massive egg sacs. And in the distance, rising up at the place where land and sky met, ascended a black pyramid of inconceivable size.

When Smiles tried to suck in a mouthful of air, his lungs would not fill. Looking down, he saw that he was in Lady’s body, of course he was, this was her experience, her memory of a dream. She was the one who had been choking for air in a place where there wasn’t any. Above him, the gelatinous skin-colored sacs wriggled in the red sky as if something wanted to burst out of them, and one of them grew dozens of eyes that rolled around in their sockets.

When he tried to scream, no sound came out. Low buzzing emanated from somewhere, and Smiles knew that it came from the terrible black pyramid. He clapped his hands over his ears (or, in the dream, Lady had clapped her hands over her ears) to drown it out but was unable to, and the fillings in his teeth vibrated, shook like they were going to shatter. Didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to see! He wasn’t supposed to see this!

Something terrible lived here, something terrible had once been here. It was unnatural and evil and he didn’t want to see!

From behind him came another sound, a sort of wet, heavy smacking. Smiles turned, his body moving slowly like he was underwater, to see a man crouched less than 3 feet away, over what appeared to be someone else’s prone body, repeatedly smashing one of the misshapen grey rocks into their head. The skull was split open like a broken gourd, brain matter spilling out onto the fine white sand. The other man kept smacking the rock down, over and over again.

“It wasn’t my fault!” The man panted, hysterical. He was either laughing or crying. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about his appearance, other than a pale scar curving into his hairline. “Why don’t you believe me?! I’m a good person, I’m a good person, Marty! Why don’t you believe me?!”

Without any evidence, Smiles knew that this was Lee Harlan, whose dreams Lady had forced her presence into. Forced her presence into again and again and again. To find..something…

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smiles was completely and painfully present. Trapped in a memory, in images in his own mind, he was unable to drift away.

Fluid began to leak out of his ears and he could hardly move. All he knew was that he needed to leave this place, leave before the man with the rock saw him. Leave before the grotesque and massive objects in the sky hatched. Or worse, before whatever it was that had once lived here became aware of his presence.

The rock came down again, hard. “Please believe me!” babbled Lee Harlan, who then seized the shoulders of the body laying on the ground, the body with the ruined face, and shook it. A small chunk of skull, hanging with scalp and black hair, broke off and fell to the sand.

Impossibly, completely impossibly due to the smashed jaw and broken teeth, the body spoke. A child’s voice. “This is all your fault, you fucking degenerate.”

Lee laughed. Or maybe he sobbed.

This wasn’t happening.

Smiles found his voice in that airless place. “Lady!” he screamed. Finally. The scream inside him came out. The pain in his head and body were too much for him to bear, but the fear was worse, much much worse. “Get me out of here! Get me the fuck out of here!”

The noise made Harlan’s head snap up to look at him. He was white, there was blood splattered across his face and the dull light that emitted from the wriggling, unnatural spheres reflected off his glasses. He let go of his grip on the body, let it fall, and slowly rose from his crouch.

In the distance, the black pyramid droned its maddening oscillation.

“Get out of my head,” Harlan said very quietly, advancing a step. Behind him, the body that he had been pounding into jelly stirred.

“Lady!” Oh god, he didn’t want to see! It was all beyond him, beyond any human. Was this the place that they had made Nickels tune into? What mind breaking words had formed in her mind when she had tuned into the pyramid’s hum? What gibbering language could come from the fleshy things hanging in the sky? Every part of the Program was preferable to seeing this! Smiles would take anything, he would rather hurt people, would rather witness assault, would rather be humiliated, would rather drown in his own helplessness-- anything other than this! “Lady, goddammit!”

The things in the bleeding sky thrashed. The small body on the ground thrashed and sat up, and it’s smashed head began to knit together and reform. More fluid leaked from Smiles’s ears. If he stayed here, in this memory of a memory of a dream, he would go insane. Harlan advanced another step towards him, panting and wheezing, and Smiles could not turn around, could not allow himself to face the black pyramid on the horizon.

“Get out of my head!” Harlan said again, louder, his skin waxy and his eyes rolling up under their lids. And somehow, Smiles knew that he knew him, knew that he recognized him. For so many years, he had wished for some memory, some reminder of his life from before the Program. Now, staring a memory in the face, he regretted that wish.

Fate. Fate is the buzzing life-swarm of mankind. The buzzing, the hum, would not stop.

Unmoving, watching Lee Harlan approach him, Smiles wondered what would happen if he-- if he in Lady’s body in this memory-- was touched.

He did not have to wonder.

One moment he was trapped in the terrible white desert of the Void, the next he was standing in the terrible white Infirmary. Lady had pulled her own memory out of his mind.

Smiles bent over and threw up bile. “Oh god,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “God.”

Before him, Lady was almost a comfort, a familiar presence. All his suffering of the last hour was now a relief, something expected. Something real. His life had been put into perspective by that one small glimpse of an impossible place.

“You see?” asked Lady, and she laughed, girlish and high pitched. “See? They want to know more about that place. You know what I think? I think they want to get in.”

He was going to be sick again and briefly considered slapping her, but knew the consequences of touching her cold skin. Shaking his head, Smiles scrambled back and away from her. Away from the Infirmary. Away.

But the indescribable buzzing did not stop droning in his head until well after he got off the elevator and into the dormitories.

Faces passed him in a blur and Smiles pushed by them, not caring who he shoved. He had left his teammate alone up there, but that was not important, no, the important thing, the only thing that mattered, was that he returned to the safety of his room as quickly as possible. There was too much in his head, too many unavoidable revelations.

He slammed open the door of the dorm, startling both Nickels and Pete. They watched him with wide eyes. Smiles was now drenched with sweat and he pulled his tank top up to mop his face. He felt weak and faint and confused.

“What the fuck,” said Pete. She was back on the bed next to Nickels. “What happened to you? You get strip searched again or something?”

“Don’t start!” Smiles snapped. He was breathing heavily. The white sand. The red sky. The eyes staring down at him from huge globular chunks of flesh. Lee Harlan’s hysterical expression. And the pyramid, the enormous black pyramid.

Something bad was happening, something he did not have the capacity to fully understand. He had always believed that the squints in their labs were researching...normal stuff, normal science stuff. What Lady had made him see in the Void changed all of that. What could R&D hope to learn from a place like that? What possible reason could they have for wanting to know about it, or more unfathomable, what possible reason could make someone want to go there?

It sounded like blood magic to him. Those red eyed cunts worshipped something that they said lived in the Rift. Well, maybe it did, but Smiles had a pretty good feeling that Something had once lived curled inside of that buzzing black pyramid.

Unthinkable. It was all unthinkable.

Now he was sure that he had known Lee Harlan from his life before. But how? He had come into the Program at 18 years old.

He was starting to dissociate again, as the initial shock left him. Smiles rubbed his face and tried to focus on his breath. He had to stay present.

“Nick,” he said, at length.

His chubby teammate blinked at him. In the time that he had left, she had changed into clean clothes. “Yeah?”

“What else did you tune into on your shift this morning? Did you hear anything else, anything that wasn’t the guy’s thoughts?”

Nickels’s mouth tightened. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Did you hear anything else? Shit like humming?”

“Quit bothering her,” said Pete. “And you were supposed to find Johnny, but I don’t see him here.”

Smiles glared at her with such force that she shut up. Again, he mopped the sweat from his face. “Just had a run in with Lady. I heard that shit too. In the Void. I heard it. Did you-- did you hear anything in it? Anything like words?”

The circles under Nickels’s eyes were very dark. Their gazes locked and Smiles could see in her a sort of recognition. The knowledge that the two of them shared was vast and nightmarish. He wished that he could take it away from her in the same way that he wished he could take it away from himself. “There were words. It’s a broadcast. It’s broadcasting to something out here, something that can hear things we can’t.”

“What’s that broadcast, Nicky?” He did not want to know. But he had to. Something in him compelled him, not curiosity, but the unfiltered and raw desire to understand what could not be understood.

In a quiet voice, the quietest that she was capable of, little more than a whisper, Nickels said, “Directions. Directions through the stars. A way back home.” She paused one last time. “A way-- a way back here, too.”

Smiles thought of those wriggling things in the blood red sky of the Void.

And for the first time that day, he had a true understanding of what responsibility meant.

[justanotherbuckydevotee]

lostmyhead - part 4 (final)

Word Count:  2,298 words. Prompt : Lovecraftian – Horrible and indescribable platonic love. Or in which you don’t know how to deal with your emotions. Warning(s): Usual angst, sad bucky (im sorry)  A/N: At last, the final one! This series took a really really different route. Written for @hellomissmabel for her 2k Birthday Celebration. Thank you Annie for giving me the extra time. I hope you’ve enjoyed this mess of a fic. Now I can focus on memories. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and happy reading!  PS: this blog turned 1 today <3

masterlist | series page The Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | part 4 | 

** gif not mine **  read previous >> part 3

It’s so damn bright.

The intense light overhead is the first thing that greets you when you blink your eyes open, eyelids heavy. Then your head is pounding, a series of painful throbs at the base of your skull and creeps its way to your forehead that you hiss. You swallow your dry throat uncomfortably, eliciting you to curse under your breath.

“That’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth?” a voice next to you laughed –an unrecognizable voice.

If you weren’t feeling so horrible you’d have the decency to say ‘screw you’ to this unknown person, but your body is adamant to let you suffer. You don’t get the chance to ask who this person is when you feel the ache around your arms and legs, the side of your hip particularly excruciating that you groan.

Finally, a team of nurses and doctors come flooding to your room, giving you that blissful shot of morphine to your system, sedating your muscles to relax. You don’t know how much time passed as you slept, but when you stirred the light isn’t from the fluorescent bulb but rather the sun.

The light comes in through the breaks of the curtain, landing to the floor of your room and giving you a calming feel.

“Hey”

You turn your head away from the window to see Sam smiling at you.

“Hi” you greet him back with a rasp roughly before coughing, grimacing at the sandstorm shoved down your throat. Sam quickly pours a glass of water for you, helping you sit up before you drank gratefully.

“What the hell happened?” you asked, looking down at your own body. Your hands make its way to your eyes, rubbing the drowsiness away. It’s then that you notice the bandage that’s tightened around your head. Panic slowly settles in as you try to remember what happened. You’re confused as you try to recall any memory of you in combat, but your thoughts are muddled and hazy.

“Take it easy, (y/n)” Sam tells you, hands holding your shoulder and forearm. “Could you tell me the last thing you remember?” he asked gently.

You tried to think, hard. What was the last thing you remember? What did you do before this? Where were you? Who was with you?

It’s taking a lot for you to remember anything, and Sam notices the symptom of someone struggling. “Okay, (y/n), could you tell me the date for today?” he asked, guiding you.

That’s easy so you answer him without any hesitation. You’re certain of this because one thing you remember clearly was the mission planned to attack a HYDRA base in Sokovia. You feel accomplished for a moment, relishing in the fact that you at least remembered something. But Sam’s been silent a little too long to let you know that it wasn’t something to be celebrated.

When you meet his gaze, you know for certain that something was wrong.

It’s a beautiful day; the sun is gracing its presence down on you as you walk with Natasha. Or rather, Natasha is the one walking and is the one leading, pushing you in a slow pace around the compound’s many outdoor areas. You lay your hands on the wheelchair’s handle as you looked around you.

After countless days of staying in the bed of the infirmary, you could feel your sanity slipping away; immobile on that damn bed, looking at the white walls that confined you, listening to your heart-rate monitor as nurses and doctors came in to check up on you once in a while. It left you to ruminate about the whole situation you’ve found yourself in.

You see Dr. Cho’s lips moving, explaining to you the effects of your state but you can’t register anything she’s saying. You’re looking at her with a distant stare, not believing that this was real. Then your eyes flicker to Sam and Bruce, eyebrows slowly furrowing. What if this was all a lie? A sick, twisted game played by the enemy? What if this is just a setup? You found yourself thinking to yourself.

“(y/n)” Helen’s hand suddenly breaks you from your thoughts. Her touch alarms you and before you know it you’re squirming for her to get her hands off of you. “Get away from me” you roared.

It doesn’t really shock Helen the way you’re behaving, but it does pain her to see you so distrustful. She’s back to square one now –the progress of friendship between you and her permanently lost. So she nods her head curtly, not daring to look up at your angered state, before leaving.

Sam and Bruce do all they can to help you cope, to help you understand but it’s all too much for you to take in. Your head is pounding, a throbbing headache generated from an overload of information. You can’t decipher which ones are the truth or lies, but your gut is telling, begging you to simply trust one person in the team.

“Where’s Nat?”

Which was how you ended up here. You only trust her enough to accompany you around, and when you asked if she could take you out with the excuse of needing fresh air and warm sunlight, Natasha doesn’t say no.

“You okay?” she asked.

You could only snort as a response, before answering with “I wake up to see myself beaten and concussed to the point where I don’t remember two whole years of my life. I’m peachy, Nat”

You know you shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t snap at her when she was just being a friend. But the situation that’s befallen you is utterly frustrating. Two whole years of your life –24 months, 104 weeks, 730 days, forgotten.

You sighed, stopping. “I’m sorry” you apologize, looking up to meet her green eyes. “I just feel like this isn’t real. Like I’m being tricked” you confess. You felt cheated and, for some odd reason, you feel like it’s all your fault that you were here.

“Can you feel this?” she asked softly, her hand resting on your shoulder. It’s a simple touch, but it says a lot. You nod.

“This is real, (y/n). And I know it’s tough to wrap your head around it, but we’re here for you. We’re all here for you” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. “You just need to trust us, and I know it’s a big step, but we can’t help you if you don’t” she continues.

Neither of you say anything, letting the nature that surrounds you be the only noise accompanying you both.

Inside the building stood Bucky, the giant glassed window giving him the perfect view of you and Natasha. The bandage that was wrapped around your head is now gone, and he can see there’s color on your skin again. But your eyes. My god, your eyes.

Even in the distance, he can see how empty they looked. Your shoulders are slumped as Natasha continued to talk, defeated. He can see you’re half-listening, half-thinking, at Natasha’s words. He can’t take his eyes away from the scene in-front of him. The last time he was with you was the night you woke up, cursing in pain and obvious discomfort.

Standing here now, he wondered what’s going to happen next? How long are you going to be distrustful? How long before you trust them?

You twitched suddenly, feeling like you’re being watched.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked worriedly, moving to the front and kneeling in-front of you. “I just feel like I’m being watched” you answer her truthfully, before nervously looking around. You just see bushes upon bushes of lush green set in-front of the modern buildings and its vast glassed walls. Gradually you scan the upper floor, eyes landing on an unknown figure.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do, something inside him whispering how much you’ll fear him.

“Who is that?” You ask Natasha, who let out a breath of relief at your genuine curiosity, glad to see you weren’t anxious.

“That’s Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes. Steve’s friend” she clarifies.

You turn your head to look at her, stunned. “Steve found him?”

She nods, pulling you to a nearby bench before she begins explaining. It’s long, detailed and something you needed to hear. You listen to her talk, engrossed in the stories she’s recounting. It’s oddly calming you, easing your body to relax, allowing your heart to start believing. When Natasha finishes her story, you lean back.

“All of that in the span of 2 years?”

If you were normal, you’d have thought it ridiculous.

But you aren’t –the world that you’re living in isn’t normal anymore. You live with literal Gods coming and going, enhanced individuals are created, inhumane experiments are being performed. You live in a world where the legendary stories of the mystical world make up parts of this reality. You remember then your secret, the one ability you were taught and told to keep confidential.

Natasha sees you reflecting all she’s said, realization dawning on you. She patiently waits for your reaction, only to be given a gentle and slow nod.

“I’d like to go back to my room now”

Weeks pass, and in that time you’re allowed to go back to your room.

Well, not really your room. But it was better than the hospital bed. You missed lying on your king sized bed, where there was no constant and vigilant people watching over you (try as they may to be stealth about it), where you weren’t strapped by delicate lines, your own privacy.

Thankfully you were healing speedily, the progress promising. After that afternoon with Natasha, you allowed yourself to have a sense of trust towards your team mates, had tried your best to ignore the nagging feeling of skepticism. You apologized to Helen, and Sam and Bruce, and anyone you’d thoughtlessly took your anger at (so many of the staff members).

Sprawled on your own bed, a notebook opened as your hands write down your thoughts, an activity suggested by your therapist to cope.

I only hope this next step will be the step that brings my memories back you jot down, thinking about your request to meet everyone (again) a few days ago. A knock on the door prompts you to stop, grabbing the crutch on your floor to help you properly stand before making your way towards the door.

With a simple twist, you unlocked it, pulling to reveal Steve standing there.

He looks down at you with a smile when you greet him brightly. “Ready?” he asked as you step out, closing the door behind you tightly.

“Yeah” you answer him nervously, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to ease your nerves. “Kinda feels weird, y’know? since they’ve met me before, but I haven’t. But then technically I have” you began to spit the words out, making Steve chuckle.

“It’s gonna be alright. They’re eager to see you”

Everyone’s gathered in the common room, sitting and chatting with one another in an attempt to lighten the mood. It all feels odd to Bucky because he was once at the receiving end of this.

For the first time in a while, he feels genuinely excited, because you were finally ready to meet everyone. He can’t help but let his smile be present as he listens to everyone converse with one another. He’d miss you, but the situation doesn’t permit him to simply come over to you anymore. He’d miss you, and it struck something inside of him knowing that you didn’t know a thing about him when he knew everything about you.

Was this how Steve felt when he met him back in D.C? Was this how you felt right before Steve brought him back to the compound?

He’s brought out of his little reverie when someone nudges his knees.

It’s Wanda.

Her big blue eyes are looking at him with an almost inscrutable expression, before giving him a slight nod towards the direction behind him.

“There she is” Sam is the first one to move and walk over to you, clearly delighted to see you again. Soon everyone’s made to move, except for three of the members.

Wanda, Bucky and Vision all stand behind, looking at the others rejoice.

“Here, meet Wanda” Clint brings you to a young woman with long brown hair cascading her shoulders. She’s looking at you with a look of curiosity and something you can’t quiet put your finger on. Still, you greet her with a smile.

“Hai” you say, shaking her hand in yours. “I’m sorry if this is awkward” you tell her earnestly, eliciting a smirk on her lips.

“It’s alright” she waves it off, extending her hand over to Vision before introducing her.

“Ms. (y/l/n)” “Oh, please just call me (y/n)”

Steve moves over to Bucky, who’s at the side watching the little exchange. “I know this is going to be awkward” he begins, noticing Bucky’s gaze over you. “But give it time. I’m sure it’ll be like before again” he continues, patting Bucky’s shoulder in an attempt to assure him.

But will it ever go back to the way it was?

The answer was simple.

No.

Because then you’re right in front of him, hands extended forward like the first time you met him.

“I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you, James”.

It physically hurts when his skin touched yours. He tries so hard to ignore the ache in his heart when the formal name comes out of your lips. It was clear to Bucky then that what the both of you had will no longer happen. But he manages to smile, seeing how everyone bated their breathe during this intimate introduction.

“Bucky. My name’s Bucky”

tagging: Angst Royalty Babes @barnes-heaven @alphaabucky @captnbarnesrogers @hellomissmabel @rotisserierogers @buckyywiththegoodhair @buchananbarnestrash @minervaem @heartmade-writingbucky | Permanent Babes @lovely-geek @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @httpmcrvel | For This Series @cam0flug3 @southern-frued-chicken @chuckennuggets1213 @sebstanwassup @cami23593 @elorajaii @exploratiionist @mizzzpink @violence-and-velvet @lloeppky 

Thank you so much for reading! If you’d like to be added to the permanent tag, please send an ask. Thank you 

[myownsuperintendent]

Fic: “Five Times Scully Talked To William (And One Time They Talked To Each Other)”

There were moments in which she was able to talk to her son.  Set in Seasons 8 and 9 and post Season 10.  Rated G, also here on Ao3.

.....

One

At around eighteen weeks, your baby begins to hear sounds.  In the second half of your pregnancy, your baby will be able to hear your voice and will even come to recognize it, so go ahead and start talking!  While Mom’s voice is important, it’s not the only voice your baby can get to know.  Encourage your partner to join you in talking to your baby.  That’s when Scully crumples the pamphlet and throws it in the trash.

But she knows it’s true—the baby can hear her.  And even if she doesn’t always feel much like chatting these days, the baby should really get the chance to hear something more than autopsy findings and questions for suspects and work discussions with Agent Doggett.  So she tries one evening, sitting on the couch after she’s finished eating dinner.

“Hi,” she says, putting a hand on her abdomen.  She’s still not showing much, but she can feel the baby move sometimes: this is real.  “How’re you doing in there?”  Then she can’t help laughing at herself—why is she asking a child who isn’t even born yet questions?  “Anyway,” she says, “I’m your mom.  My name’s Dana Scully.”  She still feels a little silly, but they might as well get acquainted.  “I guess you probably won’t call me that, though. I guess you’ll call me Mom.”  A light kick.  “It’s kind of funny for me to think about that,” she confesses. “You know, for a long time, I didn’t think I could be a mom.  I wanted you, but I didn’t think I could have you.  But you happened.”  Another kick; she lays her hand over the spot.  “You happened,” she repeats.  “And I’m so happy about you.  There are some things going on now…it’s a little bit complicated…but I’m so excited to meet you.  And I’m going to love you and take care of you.”  She runs her hand over her abdomen.  “So don’t you worry about anything,” she says, and the baby calms and stills, and she wishes it were always that simple.

.....

Two

Three AM and she’s still awake.  (Make sure you get plenty of sleep, say all the books, or Sleep is very important for both you and baby, or There’s this thing called sleep you should try, have you heard of it?)  Her back hurts, even when she lies in the recommended position, and her thoughts…there’s no body position that can do anything about those.  The baby’s awake too, kicking.

Scully sighs and touches the bump.  “Can’t sleep?” she asks.  “Me neither.” She shifts in bed, trying to get a little more comfortable.  “I just keep thinking,” she says.  “About…about your dad.”  She’s barely talked to anyone about this yet.  She only talks about what she has to talk about: work with Doggett and Skinner, her pregnancy with her doctor.  Her mom brings food over and looks at her anxiously, and she says she’s holding up but she’s tired and wants to be alone.  But tonight, at three AM with her body and heart aching and the tiredness overwhelming her, she wants to talk about Mulder, knowing that here she won’t have to deal with anyone’s response to her grief.

“I haven’t really told you about him,” she says.  “How about I do that now?”  The baby moves again, under her hand, and she takes that for assent and forges on.  “His name’s Mulder,” she says.  “Fox Mulder, but he likes just Mulder.  I always call him that.  He calls me Scully, too…that’s just how we do things.  Did things.”  She’s been hoping for so long, but now she’ll have to learn not to talk in the present tense. “I don’t even know where to start,” she says.  “We were partners in the FBI, you know that?  We were partners…and then he was my best friend…and then we fell in love.” It sounds so straightforward, put like that.  “He was such a good man.  He cared about all the right things—the truth and justice and…and people.  He always wanted to take care of me, too, but I didn’t always let him.”  She wonders if she should have, more.  “He’d want to take care of you, if he were here.  And I’ll do it for both of us, so you don’t have to worry about that, but I really wish he could too, baby.”  The tears are coming now, but she lets them fall.  “He was so smart.  So funny. And sometimes he drove me crazy, but mostly…mostly he kept me on my toes.”  She tries to concentrate on the baby’s movements, anything to ground her, anything to make her feel like she’s more than one big emptiness.  “God, you would have loved each other.  I know that.  He would have been an amazing dad.  I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anyone else and now it’s just me.” There aren’t any more words then, and she just cries.  Her body shakes, and the baby kicks and kicks and kicks.

“Just me and you,” she finally corrects herself, reaching for a tissue.  “But I’ll tell you more about him, later.  When you’re older and can understand me.”  She wipes her eyes and nose.  “We should probably get some sleep, baby.  Thanks for listening.  I promise I don’t cry all the time.”  She settles back down onto her side.  “I love him so much,” she adds, quietly.  That one belongs in the present tense.

.....

Three

Scully hasn’t been this comfortable in a long time.  But here they are: she’s got William in her arms, and she’s sitting back against Mulder, who’s got his own arms around her and is looking at her like he’ll never let her go.

She kisses him quickly, and then she looks at their son again. “Hi there,” she murmurs.  “Hi, William.”  He blinks, slowly, and she kisses him too, right on the top of his tiny head.  “You are the sweetest baby in the world,” she tells him.  “You know that?  The sweetest baby.”

“Your mom’s right,” Mulder says.  “I’m a little worried we’re going to make you full of yourself, telling you all this, but what can we do?  You really are almost unreasonably cute.”  He reaches out and touches William’s hand, and William grabs for his finger.  She’s never seen a smile as big as Mulder’s, but she thinks her own could probably give it a run for its money.

“We’re so happy to have you here with us,” she says.  “It’s been a long wait, and well…we’re just so happy.” Beside her, Mulder nods, still grinning.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” he asks her after a few minutes. “Something to eat or drink or anything like that?”

She shakes her head.  “Not right now, thanks.  But if that’s a standing offer, I’ll probably be taking you up on it a lot in the next few months.”

“Hey, happy to oblige,” he says.  “You did all the hard work here, after all.”

“Oh, it was very worth it,” she says.  “Wasn’t it, William?”  And she kisses him again for good measure, whispering, “Your dad and I love you so much.”

“We do,” Mulder says, his voice solemn and utterly joyful all at once. He presses her close, and she cuddles William, and she thinks this is a beginning.

.....

Four

It’s been a long day of teaching, and Scully is glad to get home.  Her mom stays for dinner—they talk about this and that—and after she leaves, Scully gets William ready for bed.  He smiles at her while she’s giving him his bath, splashing the water around with his hands.

“You look happy,” she says.  “You had a fun day with Grandma, huh?  It’s time for you to go to sleep now, though.”  She lifts him out of the tub, wrapping him in a towel, and carries him into his room.  She’s practiced at this by now, almost seven months in, and it doesn’t take long before she’s got him dressed in his sleeper.  She settles him on her lap in the rocking chair and unbuttons her blouse to feed him.  

“There you go,” she says softly as he nurses.  She looks down at his face, almost wanting to cry.  There’s no special reason for it; it’s been a perfectly ordinary day.  Sometimes it just comes on like this.

“I miss your dad,” she tells him.  His only response is a gurgle.  “Sometimes I think we really are doing what’s best.  Most of the time.  But I wish we could all be together.”  William finishes nursing, and she leans him against her shoulder and pats his back gently.  “I wish he could see you,” she adds.  “I know we will be together again, sometime, but I don’t want the two of you to miss too much, you know?”  She wishes, too, that she had Mulder here to take care of William with her, that once in a while she could read a book or take a long bath.  She doesn’t want to lean on her mom any more than she already does; it would be different if she had Mulder, living here with them, the two of them truly partners in this as in all else.  She doesn’t tell William that part, though.  It’s not his fault.

William’s almost asleep in her arms.  “Good night, sweet William,” she whispers.  “I love you.  And we’ll see your dad again soon.”  She doesn’t feel great about maybe lying to her baby, when it might not be soon at all, but saying the words makes them sound like they could be true.

.....

Five

“Just give me five more minutes,” she begs at the last.  

“Of course,” says the other woman—her name is Helen, she has a bob and she’s wearing a cardigan, Scully hates her stupid cardigan.  She turns aside, and Scully retreats into the bedroom, clutching William in her arms.  She closes the door firmly; this moment is for them alone.

“William,” she says.  “William, I love you, okay?”  He just stares back at her.  “William, I need you to know that.  I know you won’t remember this, but maybe somehow…”  She can’t finish the sentence.  The very idea is nonsense.  There isn’t any redemption here.  But she still has to tell him.  “I’m only doing this because I love you and I want you to be safe,” she says. “And you’re not safe here with me. I wish you were…I wish you were so much…but you’re not.”  She’s starting to cry, and her voice is wobbly and her arms are wobbly, and it’s making him start to fuss too, and she’s fucking up her very last moments with him. “I can’t even keep you safe,” she says. “You need a mother who can do that. You’re going to go live with some wonderful people, and they’ll…they’ll take care of you and keep you safe.”  She can’t manage to say They’ll love you.  Could anyone blame her for that?  “But don’t ever think it was because I didn’t want you.  When you get older, don’t ever think I didn’t want you or I didn’t love you. Because I did.  I do.”  She presses her wet cheek to his and kisses his fuzzy head for the last time.  For the last time.  For the last time.  “I love you so much, William.  So much.”

When he’s gone, with Helen, she doesn’t cry any more.  She sits on the couch and goes over her lesson plans for Monday, writing and rewriting feverishly until the sun goes down and it gets too dark to see.  She could get up to turn on a light.  She doesn’t.

.....

One

He’s taller than her.  How can that be?

But Scully can tell it’s really him, really William.  He’s got her hair and her complexion; the shape of his face is Mulder’s, and that height, too, that height that she can’t quite wrap her head around yet (he was a baby, she could pick him up).  He’s shifting from foot to foot, here in the hospital waiting area, and she wonders if he’s as nervous as she is.  Only Mulder’s hand on her back keeps her grounded as they finally approach.

“William?” she says, and he looks at her (the eyes are the same) and nods quickly.  

“Yeah,” he says.  “Yeah, that’s me.”  He studies them; maybe he’s picking out the resemblances too.  “And you’re  my…”  He breaks off.

“Your birth parents,” she says.  “I’m Dana Scully.”  She’d like to hug him but thinks a handshake might be safer, so she goes with that. They clasp hands for a little longer than usual.

“I’m Fox Mulder,” Mulder says, and he and William shake hands too. “You can call me Mulder, though. If you want.”

“Okay,” William says.  He smiles tentatively.  They smile back, equally tentatively.

“How are you feeling?” Scully asks.  The question sounds so banal.  “After the donation.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” William says.  “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well, you did save my life,” Mulder says, at the same time as Scully’s saying, “I’m so glad it all went well,” and as she’s finishing speaking, William’s starting to say, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”  They all stop.  Smile at each other again.  Try to figure out what to say next and whose turn it is to speak.

“You know your…Scully’s a doctor,” Mulder says at last.  “So she has to ask about these things.”

“I thought they said you were in the FBI?” William asks.

“Both, actually,” Scully says, and she thinks about another life, one where William would have known all of this.  “I’m a pathologist.  I do a lot of forensic work with the FBI.  And the two of us work together too.”

“It must be really cool,” William says.  So he doesn’t think they’re embarrassing to know.  Maybe in that other life he would, at this age.

“Yeah,” Mulder says.  “Most of the time.”  Another little silence.

“I’m so glad to see you again, William,” she blurts out.  She needs him to know that.

“Me too,” Mulder puts in.  It’s been even longer for him, she thinks.

“It’s…um…it’s nice to meet…to see…you both,” William says.  He looks unsure.  She wants to make this easier for him.  She doesn’t know how—not when she’s so unsure herself—but she has to try, at least.

“It’s okay if this is strange for you,” she tells him.  “I think it’s strange for all of us.”  At her side, Mulder nods, and after a minute William nods too, and they all smile a little, again.  “I don’t know what you know about us, but probably not very much?”

William shakes his head.  “Just mostly that you’re my birth parents,” he said.  “And that you’re in the FBI, and about the stem cells.  And I know Mom and Dad adopted me when I was a baby, so I guess that’s how long it’s been.”

“Yes,” Scully says.  “Fourteen years now.”  She wants to tell him how much she’s missed him, but she can’t drop the full weight of that on him in the first five minutes.  So she keeps it simple, just saying, “We missed you.”  She can’t read the look he gives her.  She doesn’t know his looks.

“We don’t know very much about you yet either,” Mulder says, filling the silence.  “But we want to.  If you’re interested.”  She can tell from his face and his voice that the idea of William not being interested is as painful to him as it is to her.

She lets out a breath when William says, “Yeah. I’ve kind of, you know, wanted to know about you too.  Who you were, I mean.”

Mulder nods.  “I’d definitely have a lot of questions in your place,” he says.  “And we’ll do our best to answer yours.”

Scully nods too.  “Do you want to go somewhere?” she asks.  “We could get lunch and talk some more.  If it would be all right with your…your parents.”  She’ll have to say it some time, might as well be now.

“Yeah,” William says.  “Yeah, that sounds good.  I’m sure it would be all right with my mom and dad.  I’ll just call them if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” she says, and he takes his phone out of his pocket, wandering away from them a little.  Mulder presses her hand in his, and she squeezes back.  She can’t help trying to make out words from the phone conversation, lunch and nice (does he think they’re nice?) and call you again later.  He comes back towards them after a minute or two.

“They said it’s good,” he says.  “We can go.”

“Great,” Mulder says.  “Let’s go find a place.”

“Is there anything you feel like eating?” Scully asks.

“Um, I like pizza,” he says.  “If you do.”

She knows that a lot of people like pizza—it’s in no way a quirky personal taste or some strange genetic heritage—and yet she can’t help smiling at that.  “We do,” she says.  “There’s a good place a couple of blocks from here.  Should we go?”  He nods. “And we can talk there,” she says. “Take our time.”  It will take time.

They walk out of the hospital.  Mulder’s holding her hand.  William’s at her side.  

[thisislizheather]

February Feats

So happy that February flew by this year, although with no snow in New York it felt a little sacrilegious. I think this has been the least snow I’ve ever experienced in a winter in my life and it feels awful. There’s still a few weeks left of the season, so I guess that could change but I mean snow in March? Give me a break. Here’s what went down this month.

NATHAN DID THE TONIGHT SHOW! And it was amazing. So crazy proud. I got to go with him to 30 Rock and everyone was so nice and it was incredible.

I rewatched As Good As It Gets and what a terrible movie! No way in hell would Helen Hunt get together with Jack Nicholson. C’mon.

I started watching The Haunting of Hill House and I don’t think I’ll continue. Reasons? 1. I don’t think I like horror shows. Movies? Sure, that’s a fun time with an end date of a few hours. 2. What awful parents would keep their millions of children in a house like that? 3. Maybe it was a bad idea to start this in February, when it’s nowhere near spooky season, that might be my fault.

Saw Happy Death Day 2U with Nathan on Valentine’s Day because I wanted to see something and WOOF, what a nightmare of a movie. I knew it would be terrible, but it still shocked me.

Read Ellie Kemper’s latest book.

Finally caught up to the end of season four on Broad City and goddam is that a perfect show. Excited to start season five soon.

I rebought Essie’s Apricot Cuticle Oil because I used to love it and then finished it and forgot about it. It’s such a great product but you do have to use it at least semi-daily to see a real difference in your cuticles.

Went to Charlie Palmer Steak for a Restaurant Week lunch and even though the environment is kind of stuffy, the food was really good. I love when pasta is offered as an appetizer, it’s always the perfect amount. The tagliatelle was really good and the steak sandwich was great (if not a little too bread-y). That sandwich is also the “official sandwich of Madison Square Garden” which everyone tells you a thousand times upon entering the restaurant, so that’s something too, I guess?

CANNOT WAIT FOR THIS SHOW TO COME OUT mainly because of how amazing the book is. Airs March 15!

Love that Trader Joe’s keeps putting out new candle scents. The Lemon Cookie one is fantastic.

Loved the Big Mouth Valentine’s Day special. Obviously over the moon pleased that the lady bug was in it.

So I tried Ree Drummond’s Caesar salad dressing recipe and I wasn’t a huge fan of her dressing itself  (Teigen’s dressing is better but of course it is because of the mayo), BUT I loved the way she does her croutons. They turn out really crunchy on the outside, but still super soft on the inside, it’s genius and I’ll include how to do it below.

Ree Drummond’s Croutons recipe: Slice the (French or ciabatta) bread into thick slices and cut them into 1-inch cubes. Throw them onto a baking sheet. Heat some olive oil in a small saucepan or skillet over low heat. Crush-but don't chop-the garlic and add them to the oil. Use a spoon to move the garlic around in the pan. After 3 to 5 minutes, turn off the heat and remove the garlic from the pan. Slowly drizzle the olive oil over the bread cubes. Mix together with your hands, and then sprinkle lightly with salt. Toss and cook in the pan until golden brown and crisp. Add a little butter for more flavor.

Honestly, those croutons were so good that I had a few leftover that I put in a pappardelle tomato pasta the next day and… whoa. Have you ever put croutons in a pasta before? Holy fuck was it good. The crunch factor in an otherwise texture-less dish was unbelievable. How is this not a thing that everyone is doing? We all need to wake the fuck up.

I also made Ina Garten’s cauliflower toast and my god, IT WAS AMAZING.

A new bar opened in my neighborhood called The Huntress, so we went and it’s pretty good! It’s mostly a wings places and they were really tasty (and that’s coming from someone who does not enjoy wings - the bones are too tiny and gross and no thanks), but these were really good. They also have poutine (!) on the menu, and even though the gravy is much too salty, the beautifully authentic curds were appreciated.

I always forget about the one bottle of Tom Ford nail polish I have, but it lasts me a full week whenever I wear it. I mean, the price is stupid, but it does last a decent amount of time.

Have you heard of the site or the book Desserts For Two? Pretty self-explanatory, but it’s created by a woman who makes recipes specifically for two people. I tried her chocolate cake recipe for Valentine’s Day and it was delicious. The cake was so good, but I really didn’t care for her frosting, if you do try this one definitely find a better icing recipe online or better yet just buy the premade one they sell at grocery stores. Or even just top it with Nutella. Fuck, I’m hungry now.

Watched all of Difficult People and I mean… SUCH a great show, which everyone obviously knows by now, it just took me awhile to finally get there and see it. Other than it being a great show, I was completely in awe of Julie Klausner’s wardrobe. I wanted everything she wore.

This Lemon, Bacon, Kale, Cauliflower pasta blew my face off, I made it three days in a row.

I rewatched a lot of the last season (spoilers ahead) of Dawson’s Creek (does it sound like a don’t have a job? I do! I just don’t work very hard) and when Jen dies and then Grams says to her, “I’ll see you soon, child. Soon.” I fucking sobbed. BUCKETS. My god. I mean, see for yourself. (And if your reaction isn’t quite as strong as mine… look inside yourself, maybe.)

I have wanted to try this Serious Eats  potato recipe forever so I did and it just didn’t work out the way I wanted it to. Some of the potatoes turned out the way they were supposed to, but you’re really supposed to do this technique with a real oven and not a tiny convection one like I have. The few that came out the way they were supposed to were really good and crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, but the effort involved in this recipe was too next-level. Maybe as a Thanksgiving recipe it’d make sense?

I watched the Versace series on Netflix and holy heavenly fuck, it’s a bad one. I only lasted about three episodes before I just couldn’t go any further. SO terrible.

Had a slice at Scarr’s in the Lower East Side and it was very decent, definitely one of the most solid pepperoni slices in that area. UPDATE: Definitely don’t go late at night, they’ve been sitting around all day and they suuuuuuck right before closing.

I now know how to make a steak at home and there’s no turning back now. I’ve been forever intimidated by cooking steak at home because it seemed like such a hard thing to do properly. (I did it once a few years ago and, like, tripled the amount of cream sauce I put on top and felt so sick I didn’t ever want to do it again.) But I did it on two separate occasions this month and I think I’m maybe kind of a pro at it now? This Tasty video helped so much. The only tip I can offer is to use normal salt and not the course kosher salt that I did on steak #1, that baby was inedible because of that course salt. Oh! And for the sauce that you obviously have to serve your steak with, it’s best to grind your own peppercorns in a spice grinder. I don’t know why, but I feel like this was the most important step. I have a lot of steak thoughts. I’ll stop.

I tried the tacos at Empellon Al Pastor in the East Village and while they were pretty good, I found them slightly on the expensive side for a place on Avenue A. We can all calm down a bit.

I visited Sweet Moment in Chinatown for a latte and it was a pretty cute experience even if the service was a little salty. If we’re being real, people only come here because Instagram exists, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The cream art choco latte that I had was ridiculous good, which makes sense because I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s just melted chocolate in a cup.

I visited the Glossier flagship store again because I was in the neighborhood and I (finally) tried out their Boy Brow. And let’s get this straight, I tried it on even though I already had other eyebrow products on (ColourPop’s Brow Boss Pencil as well as a little Milani Easybrow) which was maybe a dumb idea, but I didn’t want to wipe my eyebrows off and try the Glossier one incase it sucked and then had to walk around the rest of the day looking like a psychopath. SO, that being said, here’s what it looked like using all three products.

They look pretty full, right? I kind of think too full. I don’t know, maybe I’m a maniac. I should’ve done a before and after photo, not just an after. I just don’t see the big deal about their products. I feel like every item Glossier sells is something you need to use in combination with something else so it’ll actually look like something’s working. In conclusion, I have no idea if this is a good product or not and that’s really irritating, even to me.

Chrissy Teigen just announced that she’s gonna start her own website with new recipes! Amazing news!

I ate the pepperoni slice at Mama’s Too on the Upper West Side and all the good reviews about it ain’t lying. Crazy good slices. Might even be better than Prince Street Pizza.

I tried the mini Thickening Spray from Bumble & Bumble in my continued attempt at hair domination (and may I suggest that you always buy the mini size of any new hair product you’re trying? It makes so much more sense and is much cheaper) and it worked out well! I’ve only used it once but I think it’s a good product, next time I’ll definitely try it on my roots as well to see what it can really do. UPDATE: Definitely don’t spray it on your roots, it works much better if you use it sparsely on the rest of your hair when damp. 

I saw Waitress on Broadway and just wow. I haven’t been to a show in years and I forgot how much fun they are. This one was absolutely no exception. I went because a friend of mine that I met at the restaurant is in it, so I went to see her and not only was she phenomenal (Jessie Hooker-Bailey), the entire show was incredible. Joey McIntyre was great. Also? They had these mini pies for sale at intermission (genius) and the Salted Caramel Chocolate Pie is literally reason enough to go see this show. I need that recipe and I need it badly.

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A post shared by Liz Heather (@lizheather) on Feb 28, 2019 at 9:13pm PST

I finally ate at Sardi’s (which is something I’ve wanted to do for years) and sat at (in my opinion) the best corner booth under Dr. Ruth. And while I wish I had more to gush about, I… don’t. Ugh! I really think I just ordered bad. I only got the steak tartare and it was probably the most disappointing one I’ve ever had, which sucks considering it was also the most expensive. I knew I should’ve ordered the crab cake. That being said, I will definitely return mainly because the service was so impeccable that you’d have to return. Everyone was crazy nice and accommodating and pleasant, this one is just my fault I think. Also, I need to stop ordering streak tartare. I’ve already found the place that makes it the best (The Dutch) so why the hell am I still looking? I feel like a happily married man who can’t stop looking for something better to come along. STOP!

HELLO BEST MONTH OF THE YEAR, MARCH!

[withoutbringingmedreams]

Eyewitness fic pt. 16 FINAL

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Pt. 7| Pt. 8 | Pt. 9 | Pt. 10 | Pt. 11 | Pt. 12 | Pt. 13 | Pt. 14 | Pt. 15 or AO3 

They can’t talk while they ride, and that’s perfect. He doesn’t have the words right now. Phillip’s arms are so tight around him they’re nearly crushing him, but that’s good, too. He can focus on the pressure, focus on the slap of the air on his skin. Focus on the sound of the wind and the rumble of the engine. Anything but what the hell he’s just done.

He can go on for hours like this. Maybe he will. Except Phillip might actually have to loosen his grip a little before he’s severed in half.

As if in response, Phillip frees one of his arms to point toward an open field they’ve used for filming. Lukas almost ignores him, but now that he’s no longer being squeezed to death, he can’t blame Phillip for the fact he’s still struggling to breathe.

He veers off the road and into the thick green. He’s barely slowed to a stop before Phillip hops off and tears away his helmet, leaving his hair an adorable mess. A mile-wide smile stretches across his face, complete with wind-pinked cheeks.

“Lukas, I can’t believe you…I mean, I know it was kinda vague, but still, I can’t believe you…you just…”

Phillip trails off as Lukas carefully dismounts from his bike. He takes off his own helmet and crouches down, resting his head on his knees.

You can do this. You know how to breathe.

Phillip kneels beside him. “Lukas?”

He’s able to lift his eyes, but his breath hasn’t sorted itself out yet. He watches Phillip’s chest rise and fall and concentrates on making his own match. It’s not that bad, this time. Either he’s getting better, or getting lucky. He falls into a cross-legged position once he’s got it all under control, and Phillip does the same.

“What’s wrong?” Phillip’s voice is low and shaky, the earlier excitement sucked right out of him. 

Nothing is on the tip of Lukas’ tongue. His go-to denial. It’s always worked for him in the past.

Then again, has it?

“Sometimes…sometimes it just gets hard for me to breathe. Stupid, huh? Helen said maybe I should talk to someone about it. Like a shrink or something. Someone who fixes crazy people.”

Phillip puts an arm over his shoulder. “You’re not crazy.”

“Yeah, right.” He rolls his eyes and pushes back the hair clinging to sweat on his forehead. “I mean, you went through worse than what I did, and you’re not going nuts.”

“First of all, I didn’t get shot and lie in a coma for days, so not exactly the same thing. And secondly, the only reason I’m not…” Phillip stops and swallows. “Not ‘going nuts’ is because…I have you.”

Shit, that nearly takes the air from his lungs again. But in a good way, somehow. In the I mean something to the person I love way. And he really cannot stop thinking that L word, can he?

Still, it’s a little hard to believe. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Phillip tugs him closer, into his embrace. “I have you making me go outside, go back to school. Making me remember how to laugh and smile again. Reminding me what being happy feels like.”

He’s really doing all that? Well, damn. That’s a confidence boost. Maybe even more than the one he got from the discovery of his mad blowjob skills. 

“This may come as a surprise to you…“ Phillip’s hand slips into his and they play their dancing fingers game. “But I’ve been through tough times before, without you, and it…it wasn’t good, being alone. It’s much better with you.”

Lukas sighs and presses a kiss to Phillip’s temple. Phillip is a warrior compared to him. “I’m sorry. After everything you’ve been through…you’re amazing, really.”

Phillip shifts in his arms. “I…haven’t always been amazing,” he says quietly. “There were some really shitty moments where I wasn’t amazing at all.”

The words cause a swift plummet back to reality—to the truth of Phillip’s tough times. No matter how hard things ever were for Lukas growing up, he always had food in his stomach and a roof over his head. But Phillip…Phillip’s seen a much darker side of the world.

“Hey.” He gives Phillip a little jostle. “You made it here. That counts for a whole hell of a lot.” 

Phillip lifts half his mouth in a sad grin. “I guess so. And it was worth it. If I actually had…uh, given up any of the times I wanted to, I wouldn’t have met you.” 

Lukas closes his eyes, a desperate but pointless attempt to block out just what given up really means. He can’t think about that, can’t imagine a life without Phillip in it. If any tough times come near Phillip again, he’ll raze them to the fucking ground. It’s his job to protect Phillip now.

“And if I hadn’t met you,” Phillip continues, his smile growing, “I wouldn’t have been there to see you kinda sorta starting to come out to your friends today.”

Oh, right. That. Lukas’ stomach plummets into a whirlpool of sick fear and his breath catches in his throat again. “Huh. Yeah.”

“I mean, I’m not sure they’ll get what you meant—“ 

“They’ll get it. Keith Horner saw us hugging on the roof and the rumors had already started.”

“Oh.” Phillip blinks. He scoots back slightly so he can face Lukas. “So you like, actually came out.” His eyes grow wider with every word, filling with excitement and wonder. “You came out and you told everyone we’re together.”

Shit, he looks so fucking happy. It’s enough to calm some of the storm in Lukas’ gut. This day was coming, one way or another. At least he’s taken charge—kind of sort of accidentally—and impressed the hell out of Phillip. He should really just let them bask in it.

“I don’t think it’s gonna be like how you want it to be,” he blurts out instead. Why enjoy the moment when he can go for Lukas-style awkwardness?

“Huh?” Phillip’s delight is wiped away by a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Great. Instead of celebratory sex, he now has to explain all the deep, dark worries swimming around inside him.

“Out here.” He clenches his jaw and inhales slowly, just to make sure he still can. “It’s not like the city. It’s not gonna be some fairy tale. People are gonna make fun of us and talk shit and be jerks. Not everyone, but some people for sure. Some adults, even.” 

Phillip nods slowly. “Yeah, well, people already make fun of me and talk shit about me, so no real change there.”

“It is for me.” Lukas frees his hand from Phillip’s and sinks it into the dirt. He’ll be strong—for Phillip—but that sure as hell doesn’t mean he’s looking forward to the coming shitstorm. “It’s gonna suck.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Lukas concentrates on digging a hole in the ground, since he’s done just about the same to this conversation.

He can feel Phillip’s sad eyes on him, tracking his progress. “Then why’d you do it?” Phillip asks quietly.

Lukas snorts. “Uh, because I love you.” 

Oh, holy shit. He did not just say that out loud.

Phillip’s jaw drops open and his brows rise up so high they’re lost behind the flop of hair on his forehead.

So…yeah. He’s said it out loud. Perfect.

That sort of shit is supposed to be said in the right moment. And romantically, like it’s super important and meaningful…not with the same tone of voice he uses to say things like duh.

Phillip closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His lips tremble slightly. “Wh-what?”

Well, the damage has been done, obviously, and backing out now would only make it worse. “I love you?” Lukas repeats, only this time it comes out as a question. As in, is that okay? Because that’s how it is.

Phillip launches forward, tackling him to the ground and pinning him with a frantic kiss. His fingers scramble around in the soil until they lock onto Lukas’ and stay there, leaving them pressed together from head to toe.

Their lips are still touching as he speaks. “I love you, too, Lukas. I love you.”

And that’s how you were supposed to say it. With those shining eyes and in that breathless voice. Because hearing those words, that way, made all of Lukas’ insides melt into a puddle of sappy this-is-the-best-moment-of-my-life goop.

Shit, he’s so sapped up he might even cry. A couple of swallows fixes that, luckily, and he manages a shaky smile. “Bet you didn’t think I’d say it first.”

Phillip falls back onto him with another kiss. “You didn’t. I said it first, at the hospital. Before your dad kinda walked in on me kissing you.”

“What?” Well that was slightly terrifying—that his father might’ve known Phillip loved him before he did. “That doesn’t count. I was in a coma!”

“Not my fault you were lazing around like sleeping beauty.” 

“And what, you were trying to help with true love’s kiss?”

“Oh my God, you’re such a dork, Lukas.” 

He can’t let that slide, so he rolls over quickly, taking Phillip with him. Now he’s on top, staring down at the perfect picture that is a laughing Phillip. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Phillip grins up at him, and Lukas’ whole world is in that lopsided smile. There’ll be shitty days, sure, but if at the end of them Phillip can look up at him like this, like he’s actually someone, then fuck everything else. 

He loves Phillip Shea. Phillip Shea loves him. That’s all there is to it. 

He kisses Phillip, long and deep. It makes his legs turn to rubber, and by the way Phillip can only half open his eyes when they’re through, it’s probably doing about the same to him.

“You still wanna go to that party at Simone’s?” Lukas asks, only because he’s pretty damn sure of the answer. “We can if you want.”

“Some other time.” Phillip draws him back in for another tongue-twisting kiss. “Right now, I think I just want to be alone with you. That okay?”

“Hell yes.” Even with all he’s screwed up, he’s played enough cards right to wind up here. With Phillip in his arms, with sex and cuddling and more lazy moments spent kissing in a sunny field to look forward to. It’s almost like he’s got everything figured out.

“Besides, Helen and Gabe want you over for dinner. Said something about explaining ground rules to us or something?”

“Ew, seriously?” Well, almost figured out. “Screw that. Let’s go to the barn instead.” And just in case his message isn’t clear enough, he presses into Phillip’s groin until he gets a reaction—from both of them. Hell, maybe the field is safe enough for a little action.

“Okay, okay.” Phillip wiggles out from under him, cheeks flush. “First one to the bike gets to drive!”

“What? No way!”

He gives Phillip a head start—he has the keys, after all—before taking a deep, full breath of sweet spring air and racing after him.

Well, that’s it folks. Thank you to my 3 to 4 readers XP You guys rock. Still looking for a beta reader/writing partner for original fiction...or maybe just anyone who wants to talk about writing...this has been a quieter fandom than I’m used to.

[angelsanarchy]

Could you write something where Phillip and Lukas are moving into there first apartment together and while unpacking Phillip finds a book full of amazing drawings of mostly him; basically a hidden talent of Lukas's he didn't know about.

Certainly! Enjoy!

“Okay you own entirely too many things.” Philip complained lugged two giant gym bags and two huge boxes of Lukas stuff up the third flight of stairs to drop in the living room. It felt too real to finally see all their things piling up in their brand new apartment. Most of the appliances and furniture were “donated” by Helen, Gabe and Bo but the rest mostly belonged to Lukas. He knew he was spoiled, Philip called that when they first met but Philip didn’t seem to mind as much as their home truly started to feel like a home now that it was full of boxes.

“Hey it’s not my fault you’re a minimalist. Plus you wanted the apartment with the stairs and no elevator.” Lukas bends his neck down to kiss Philip as he rubs his sore arms.

“It’s more aesthetically pleasing.” Philip reminded him.

“Yeah remember that when we’re carrying groceries up three flights.” Lukas moved some of the boxes around to clear a path to the bed as Philip flopped down on top of it. It was the only thing they’d actually put together and NO it wasn’t so they could have sex the night they signed the lease…well it’s not the only reason. They wanted to be able to say they put the bed together and managed to be adults on their own. It took them until 5AM to actually get it together and it promptly fell apart which meant they’d be sleeping on the mattress on the floor until Gabe brought the couch in.

“How about you start putting stuff away in here and I’ll bring the last few boxes up. We can order pizza after?” Lukas suggest flopping down on the bed next to Philip. Philip smiles at him and pushes Lukas’ hair off his face.

“Pizza sounds great. Are you sure you don’t need help?” Philip asked letting his curls fall into his face. They’d both sort of let their hair get a bit out of control since graduation but Lukas was really into Philip’s curls and Philip felt closer to his mom having his hair grown to match what hers used to be.

“I’m sure. Start unpacking.” Lukas pushed up from the bed but not before kissing Philip’s forehead. Philip rolled over and pulled open one of the boxes putting both of their underwear in the drawer next to each other. He giggled a bit at how giddy he was to feel so domestic but he’d never admit it.

Putting their clothes in the dressers was the easy part. Lukas had a million random knickknacks that Philip had no idea where they would put so he pushed around two open boxes to a “Ask Lukas” corner before grabbing another, lighter box. Inside was about 4 notebooks that he recognized as the books they’d pass back and forth to each other in class just to get through the day. He flipped through some of the old pages and became nostalgic. It seemed like just yesterday that Philip was asking Lukas to prom and Lukas was trying to seduce him through chemistry.

He came across another, bigger notebook that didn’t turn out to be a notebook at all but a sketchbook. He doesn’t remember Lukas ever taking art but when he opened it he was taken aback. There were landscapes, stores in town, even a sketch of Lukas’ mother that was beautifully drawn. They looked quite old until he looked in the back of the book. Those were drawn of him. They’d gotten better the more he was drawn but gradually they started to include Lukas who was smudged and erased a lot more than Philip’s image ever seemed to be almost like he’d perfected drawing Philip but not himself.

“Alright since I lugged the last few up, I pick the toppings. Pepperoni and sausage because you know I like me some meats!” Lukas laughed coming through the door but slowed down as Philip looked up in awe.

“Lukas....these...you drew these?” He asked in shock and Lukas shrugged.

“Yeah they’re...I mean they’re really old. I don’t even know why I put them in the box. I should have thrown them out.” Lukas goes to grab the book but Philip pulls it back.

“Lukas this one can’t be more than a month old. This is Ginger that little boxer puppy that Gabe was taking care of that wouldn’t leave me alone.” Philip pointed out and Lukas crossed his arms.

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just something I do.” Lukas looked almost embarrassed and Philip shook his head.

“Are you kidding? These...Lukas these are really good. I had no idea you could draw.” Philip looked up at him and noticed how uncomfortable he was. He reached out and pulled on his hand so he’d sit down next to him on the bed.

“I took a class my freshman year. My mom was an artist. She’d do drawings all the time before she got sick. I kind of wanted to do something she’d be proud of but my dad found out and told me to focus on important things.” Philip stroked his thumb over Lukas’ hand and he touched the photo of Philip, the first one he ever drew.

“I hadn’t drawn in years...not until I’d met you.” Philip moved into Lukas’ side to kiss his temple.

“They’re really beautiful.” He whispered making Lukas smile.

“You were the first real beauty I’d seen in a really long time. I didn’t ever want to forget it.” Lukas turned his head to look at Philip closely. Philip ran his hands through Lukas’ hair and pulled him into a deep kiss, feeling his tongue sweeping into his mouth almost instantly. Philip moved the book back gently not to ruin it and straddled Lukas’ hips.

“I love you, you know that?” Philip pulled away to place sweet kisses on Lukas’ face as he grinned.

“Yeah you better. I don’t think I’ll be able to move for the next week after carrying all that stuff upstairs.” Philip laughed putting his hand over Lukas face so he could slap him lightly.

“Oh god let me get meat pizza in your body before you become too much of a drama queen.” Philip pushed off of Lukas grabbing his phone from his pocket to order their food. Lukas watched Philip order the pizza and wander through the boxes to find their plates, cups and napkins and felt an overwhelming feeling of love. He looked down at the sketch book and touched the old photo with his fingertips remembering the day he sketched it. Philip was hiding in the library in his leather jacket that was too big on his small frame, hair almost slicked back but one piece was falling in his face as he sat on the floor, knees to his chest, bag laying by his side and book in his hands. He knew that moment that he wanted Philip in his life. He had no idea how much he would need him to truly feel happy.

Later that night, he would sketch a photo of Philip wrapped up in their sheets, on their bed, in their first apartment together, curls all over the pillow and arms tucked under the pillow. Philip would open his eyes and smile at him watching him and talking to him as he sketched from the corner of the bed.

[guys-chill]

My Demons are PTA Moms

Hey so as you know, I love PTA mom jokes and like making names for my friends ect. Well sometimes, when shit hits the fan and there are lots of negative thoughts, so I address each thought as if it were some stuck up lady from the PTA. Here’s my “convo” that happened last night ( I was talking to my friend and basically texted her my thoughts) bc I think it’s funny. If you wanna skip the buildup and go straight to moms, skip the first bit and start where I say YOOT. Theres alot.. yall dont gotta read i know that its alot alot

TW for mentions of rape

Set the scene: My mind is wandering, open to passing thoughts

Me: I wonder why sometimes your brain thinks about nothing. Like, there are so many things to think about, yet I stare at the ceiling thinking about nothing just kind of floating in empty mind space

Me: Now im thinking about [ex bf.] and how i want to work through my [ex bf.] memories with you and [friend’s boyfriend who is also my friend] and how that’s unfair bc its like, yall dont exist to listen to my problems and im thinking i need to face them and get through that wall of pain. Like they’re motly breaking up memories atm. Im trying to avoid them because its hard

Friend: He and I are your friends and part of our job as friends is to listen

Me: :^)

Me: Ye but like no i feel so selfish when we are about me

Friend: But you shouldn’t

Me: You know that meme that’s like “I feel uncomfortable when we are about me”. Mood

Friend: No I don’t

Me: Rip. Yeet bc i wanna face them but i know it’s gonna have me breaking down and I want a hug and like yall aren’t responsible for me or like i j feel bad

Friend: It’s ok dude we’re here for you

Me: But i know i gotta face them but im putting it off rn bc i don’t wanna fall asleep breaking down but why cant i just do it like UGGGH. Like with opening up my feelings door I’ve opened up remembering that i blocked kinda or avoided ahhh lol my mind is riptastic and sad rn but my heart is only mildly and i dont wanna be sadddsdddddd and i avoid my shit. [Her bf] is right that its hard to face your shit. And I feel dumb for not. And its like just let the suffering commense, you’ll be fine later

Friend: I’m sorry

Me: Why am i so FUCKING needy. Lol sorry im like this

Friend: You’re not needy my dude!

Me: My brain is like !OOh idea! Lets want someone to love you and hug you and all this shit to be really extra even though it doesn’t even matter that much bc who gives a fuck yo people have they’re own lives but you know I think it sounds like a GREat way to make things difficult haha fuck u

Me: Lol i said i wasn’t gonna get into this but look at me goooooooooo. YEET

Friend: Oh boy you’re ok

Me: Yo its fine god im im a messsss yoot AAHH YOOT THATS SO FUNNY

Friend (Prolly like oh boyyy at this point): You’re gonna be ok I’m sorry

Me: Wanna hear my inner dialouge lol YOU KNOW WHAT IM GOOD AT MEMES YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT

Me: Ye thank you I appreciate that

Friend: If you want to share

Me: I appreciate you listening to me

Friend: Any time

Me: Why is my mind just like saying rando shit its like Haha you fucking psycho kill yourself, and its like no Pam, that’s not even what were talking about rn. Like who invited you. Yeah I know no one invited me to my own party haha funny jan. Why am I a mess. But HeY at least we’ve gotten distracted

Friend: Oh boy I’m sorry

Me: “Lol im gonna kill you” thanks maureen

Friend: Why all the suicidal thoughts

Me: Im thinking of that vine of this kid awkward dancing to like trap music and his mom walks in and you can hear her mouthing like turn it down wtf. I dont even know I dont even wanna die my mind is so unoriginal. Good to know Jan, youre worthless too

Me: Like im doing that thing where i make everything a joke to not have it hit as hard

Friend: Im sorry. You’ll be ok

Me: TW rape “Lol no he didn’t rape me in the butt you insensitive bitch (me @ Clarissa)” Haha im gonna fucking kill myself. That one was a bit more real. I suppose both but like the kill yourself bit

Friend: Oh boy

Me: I wanna die im a mess. Tw again Youre so ugly why the fuck would he even wanna rape you haha dumb bitch got raped you dummy couldn’t even get him off lol you got him off tho...SHUT UP. lol no Way hunny this is too fun you vulnerable cunt haha fucking ill whip out any insult that has to do with sexually explicit shit come at me slut

Me: Haha im sorry

Friend: Oh boy, don’t be sorry. You’re ok. What he did was on him, it had nothing to do with you it wasn’t your fault

Me: Why they gotta say rape so much like i get it gerryanna; you’re shitty at sales pitching sell me something i dont know. God i love these moods (sarcastically)

Friend: Oh boy

Me: Haha you dumb bitch like they’re not even original. Im calling the superintendent of my mind and having them all taken off the PTA board of trustees. Fuck you Helen. Not you though [Friend] your name susan helen does not apply during breakdowns

Friend: Oh boy. Is there anything i can do

Me: Im just laying here with a pained smile on my face its not even a breakdown its a roast sesh. Nah not atm besides listen and hear the dumb shit they say

Friend: Oh boy, does it help to get it out like would writing help

Me: Yeah. God you cant even type right. Yeah you’re a secretary Jan sorry I dont have a crumbling marrage and an English degree like you. Oooooh im throwing sick burns. Im not even funny im just sad. I hope you’re laughing. Genuinely I hope its a bit funny because im a piece of trash. Ok yo you didn’t need to say that last part margaree.

Friend: Omfg

Me: God hell yeah you can take me out on trash day fucking Mmm yeah you bet id like that feeling of powerlessness and suffocation of my voice please, expand uponthis trash bag fantasy joann. Ill sit on the curb and cry myself to death you right. Fuck you got me lol I guess ill just give up now. Fool im not done yet get PUNKED Pamela. Im still here to shit on your bad insults. I hate myself, yeah i hate you too Mary Sue. Go fuck yourself; I think i might give it a shot from what i’ve heard its best in the shower and i was gonna take one tomorrow...

Friend: Oh boyyyyyy

Me: Lol yall are dumb; When they try to make their voices sound like mine but you can tell the yall is just you and the’re throwing shit at you but you see it. Im great fuck you pam

Friend: Oh gee

Me: This is good, like genuinely its like a throwdown and they’re bloody on the floor (the pta council). Fuck em, yeah fuck you too janice. “I hadta do it to em”- me at my future kid asking why i did this. Yeah i beat up Suzanne but she was a bitch anyway. Ok now stop trying to get all on my side pauleenI know you’re with them. Go with the rest of em. I bought you a luxury cruise well actually yall did bc yall are selfish and feed off sadness go drink some martinis and come back but you bet ill be fucking waiting for you, yeah ik were not done donna, but ill still be there and... “I love you”- I love you too higher sweetie who sounds like [my friend’s spirit guide] no now its my higher self but also [her]? Yeet ok bye yall

Friend: Oh boy

Me: Fuck um, Patricia decided to stay behind and keep me company. Lol im a mess. How are you things have relatively chilled. And now im being told “I love you” from someone i think me a higher power that believes in me

Friend: Eh im alright. How are you

Me: Im better. Did you enjoy that little skit my ego wants to know so it can make a production and Pam can bring her friends back and then my higher self is saying just say you love me and you’re here, “and i love you”- higher bee thank you I love you too. Idek, yes I know i’m a mess pam. I know

Friend: “Higher bee” oh could you imagine if god was just a fluffy bumble bee wanting us to love ourselves. I’m sorry you’re going through this

Me: But im a mess of glitter, spilled but pretty and not going away yeah ok no pretty is not my only worthy reason for existing but thanks. Im also friendly. Awwww thatd be so sweet. Thatd BEE so sweet. She’s beautiful

Friend: Ba dum tss

Me: Its ok i find it mildly funny. “I cant drown my demons, they’re in a pta meeting atm and dont have their pool passes handy”

Friend: Lol

Me: Haha im livingg. I love you. Thank you for listening

Friend: I love you too and any time

Me: “I love you so much” thank you giant sky bee, God thank you giant sky bee godbless. Bless yourself. How are you. Im feeling loved. I faced part of the wall yoot lol

Friend: I’m glad you’re feeling loved I’m ok

Me: Like i faced something, im here and it matters. I love you. Im glad you’re ok. What have you been doing how long was that. 12:46 to 1:20. 35-40 min. Average breakdown cycle. Nice good to know. See, its all chill after 40 min

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And thats that my guys uhh yeah i keep track of how long i break down for and it really is only about 45 minutes until your body wears itself out. I love you all