#but it took him three months of 12-hour days to do it alone

[thus-spoke-lo]

Our downstairs-and-to-the-side neighbor just sold his condo last month and idk if he had remaining repairs to do, or he’s just doing some personal projects before he leaves, but he’s been using a circular saw on and off since 10am and I’m so done lol. He uses it for like 5-10 mins, then stops for 15-20, then repeats. Like please just figure out how much wood you need and cut it all and then stop, why are we doing this in batches.

[sweetprfct]

Okey, I just saw your re-post of the music video of expresso by Sabrina Carpenter. And it occurred to me (bc you do a great job basing fics on songs) that you should write a fic of Joe head over heals for reader based on the song of expresso. Just giving you and idea, if you don't want to is totally Okey ❤️

Espresso

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe's thinking about you every night. Is it that sweet? You guess so.

Author's Note: To celebrate 300 followers, here's a little gift. Thank you all for the love! Currently, I have been obsessed with this song and Sabrina. So, I'm so glad that you requested this! Thank you for this! Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: 18+, smut

Wordcount: 2.1K

It was midnight. 

Joe had been tossing and turning for about an hour already, and he couldn’t seem to sleep at all. He took a deep breath and turned his body so that he was laying on his back and gazed up at the ceiling. The light from the lamp post outside slightly reflected through the crack of his window curtains. The night was quiet, and his mind kept pondering about the thought of you. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Joe whispered through your bare skin as he left repeated kisses on your bare back. 

You giggled softly, looking over your shoulder. You were laying on your stomach, and Joe had moved himself closer to you. His fingers gently tugging on the duvet to expose your bare back, his lips finding your soft skin. He planted soft kisses all over your back, his long lashes tickled your skin as his fingers stroked your back softly. 

“I can’t get enough of you, I swear.” Joe murmured. 

Chuckling softly, you turned your body to face him. Joe hovered over you as you pulled the duvet closer to your chest. He grinned happily as he leaned down and kissed you softly. His hands slowly slid the duvet away from your naked body and his hands roamed your sides. A small moan escaped your lips as he parted from the kiss and trailed his lips down and traced the line of your jaw. Then, his lips found your neck as he sucked on the skin lightly, making you moan again in his ear. 

“God, I love that sound.” He murmured through the kiss. 

“Hmm…” Smiling through the kiss, you curled your fingers through his hair and pulled him down close to you. 

Joe pressed his face on your chest, planting a soft kiss on it. If anyone would ask him, he would prefer to stay in your arms forever. He could happily stay here and just indulge in every part of you. However, that was not how life works. So now, he was laying in his bed alone and couldn’t sleep at night because all he could think about was you. All he could think about was your soft skin under his touch. The sounds you would make in his ear, and your soft lips on his skin and his lips. 

God, he was so head over heels. 

He didn’t even realize it until now. You were running in his mind 24/7 and when he tried to push the thought of you away, he only missed you even more. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he saw that it was 12:30 am already. Pursing his lips, he opened up his messages and stared at the screen for a moment. 

Still awake?

He sent the message and waited. After a few minutes, he saw the three bubbles popping up on the screen. A smile immediately tugged on his lips. 

You were working late because you had some reports that still needed to finish. Your mind has been somewhere else, and you have been trying so hard not to stress too much about your work. Though, here you were up late and finishing up reports for work. When your phone vibrated next to you on your desk, and you saw Joe’s name appear on your screen, you immediately grinned happily. You needed a little distraction after a long day.

Still working. Why are you still awake?

The text message that you sent to Joe sent a warm feeling in his stomach as he smiled at your text. 

Can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. 

Biting your lower lip, you grinned at his message. You couldn’t help but think how the last two months that you have been seeing Joe, you have been so happy. You didn’t even care about the fact that your friends kept telling you to be careful because he was an actor. That he might just immediately change his mind and find someone else. Though, that wasn’t what it was at all. 

From the way he kept calling you every night, you didn’t have the time to feel insecure at all. He kept telling you that he was always thinking about you, and he couldn’t even sleep because he only wanted to be next to you. 

He was too sweet. 

You couldn’t relate to the desperation that your friends would act when it came to their boyfriends. 

Aww! :( Want me to come over? 

You bit your nails, grinning cheekily as you waited for him to answer. Joe, who immediately sat up on his bed, reached over to turn his lamp on. He stared at your text and then shifted his eyes towards his clock on his bedside table. 

Yes, please. 

He stared at the text for a moment before deleting it. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting like a 16 year old boy? At his big age too. He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself for acting so stupid over you. Rubbing his forehead softly, he stared at his screen and didn’t know what to reply to your text. He never acted like this before, not even with his exes. He didn’t know what it was that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you. He couldn’t sleep because of you. He kept thinking about how beautiful you were. He kept thinking how smart you were and such a hard worker. He couldn’t really describe it, but he was just so deep in his feelings for you since you two had started seeing each other. He was feeling so drunk of you like he had drunk ten espresso shots every night before bed. 

It’s okay. It’s late. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?

He typed the text message and sent it to you. He was right though. It was literally past midnight, and he was bothering you because he couldn’t sleep. 

What an idiot. 

Exhaling a sharp breath, he set his phone down on his bedside table and gazed up at the ceiling again. After a few minutes of silence and no reply, he figured you had fallen asleep. His mind wandered back again at the thought of you. 

“Don’t be cheeky.” Joe laughed, pressing his face on your neck.

You had told him a dirty joke, and he couldn’t stop laughing. The way he was literally hooked with your humor all the time. The one little joke made him all flushed and flustered that he was hiding his face from you.

“That’s not fair. Don’t hide your cute face from me.” You grinned, lifting his head and cupping his face between your hands.

Joe’s chocolate button eyes sparkled as he gazed down at you with a loving smile. You loved seeing him like this, and you certainly love the fact that you could make him act like this. 

Sighing, Joe closed his eyes and pushed the memory away. 

He needed to sleep. 

This was getting ridiculous. 

Pulling the duvet closer to him, Joe settled himself comfortably in his bed and closed his eyes. He forced himself to really sleep and as soon as he started drifting off, he felt the mattress of the empty side of his bed dip. For a moment, he thought he was just dreaming. Then, familiar arms wrapped around his torso, and he knew exactly who it was even if his eyes were closed. 

He was thanking his little stars that he gave you that spare key for his flat.

“It’s late.” He murmured, holding in his smile as he pulled you closer to his body. 

You let out a soft approving hum, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Even in the dark, you could see his beautiful facial features as you softly stroked his cheek with your fingers. 

“You can’t sleep lately.” You whispered. “I’m worried about that.”

“It’s your fault, you know.” Joe teased.

You laughed softly, moving yourself on top of him, straddling his hips. 

“Yea?” You trailed kisses on the line of his jaw and then down his neck. 

Joe had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from moaning. He swore if he was dreaming right now, he would hate his brain in the morning for giving this much of a vivid dream about you. He was already folding for you, and his brain was now betraying him even more? 

This was so foul of his dreams to do to him. 

“Yes.” Joe gasped the word as you ran your hands down his bare chest. “I think I’ve gone mad.”

You smiled through his skin as his fingers curled around the strands of your hair as you kissed his bare chest. You loved that you could wrap him up around your finger, and he would just fold under every kiss you left on his skin. You never had anyone act like this over you, and you were enjoying every minute of it. 

He was adorable like this. 

“Hm…” You smiled, grinding against his hard member that was between your legs. “I can help you lose your mind even more.”

Joe’s fingers immediately curled at the back of your head, pulling you down for a hungry kiss. Smiling, you giggled softly through the kiss as he tugged on your shirt and pulled it over your head. Soon, he was tugging on your pants too and it joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

You reached your hand down to grab his member, wrapping your fingers around it and slowly slid himself inside of you. Both of you gasped softly as you helped him thrust inside of you. His lips were sloppily kissing you, his tongue licking your bottom lip. 

“Shit…” Joe groaned softly as he trailed kisses down your neck. 

Your hands found his headboard as your pace quickened, and it only made Joe moan louder as he found his lips on your nipple, sucking on it softly. 

“Ah—Joe.” You arched your back as he moved deeper inside of you. 

He could hear your voice sounding distorted and far away as he continued to suck your nipple and then trailed his lips up on your neck, sucking the skin softly there. He wasn’t the kind of man that loved to leave a love mark, but he couldn’t help but leave one on your neck and then on your chest. You moaned softly as you leaned down and buried your face on his neck, feeling your walls tightened around him. 

“Love, you’re so tight.” He moaned. 

You kissed him hungrily as he thrusted faster inside of you, your legs trembling and feeling the pleasure build up in your stomach. Joe had forgotten everything around him. He had forgotten what time it was. He had forgotten about the fact that this all started because he couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

You were here. 

You were really here. 

You were in his arms, and you were making him forget his name. He could feel the pleasure build up in his stomach as he flipped the both of you over, and he was hovering over you. He thrusted deeper and faster inside of you, your toes were curling and your nails were scratching down his bare back. 

“Come for me.” You whispered in his ear, making Joe tremble from the way your voice sounded in his ear. 

He usually was the one who was able to make his exes feel like this but with you, he was weak. He would do anything for you. He never felt this way about anyone before. With shaky hands, he reeled you in his arms and pressed your body against his flushed one. 

“Right there, baby.” You moaned in his ear. “Don’t stop.”

You gasped, your nails digging into his skin deeper as pleasure crashed over the both of you. Stars exploding at the back of your eyes as you screamed his name. Both of your bodies shuddered, both panting together as Joe collapsed his heavy body against yours. 

“Holy shit.” Joe cursed under his breath, still panting. “You’re literally amazing.” 

You smiled, trying to catch your breath. You stroked his curly hair away from his sweaty forehead and planted a soft kiss there. 

“Now, you could sleep.” You joked, making Joe scoff at your little comment. 

“No.” He whispered, pressing his face on your neck and nibbled on the skin lightly. “We’re gonna be up all night.”

You grinned widely, flipping the both of you over so you were on top of him again. 

“Hmm… Don’t challenge me.” You smiled deviously under the dark. 

“You’re the one who’s been keeping me up all night, so don’t challenge me.” Joe retorted back. 

You laughed softly, kissing him hungrily again and grabbing the duvet from behind you. Covering the both of you with the sheet, Joe tangled his fingers through your hair as you both blissfully enjoyed each other’s flushed bodies against each other. 

Time had frozen, and Joe didn’t care if he needed to be up early tomorrow morning. You were literally the espresso shot that could keep him up all day and night. 

Somehow, that was enough for him. 

********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

[didyoulookforme]

pov: matty finally comes back from tour

just some fluffy and smutty times after he arrives at your place.

this one is longer than usual as it’s one i had in my drafts from a while ago.

warning: 18+, smut. grammatical errors, typos.

word count: ~2,900

masterlist here

———

it was 17:48 and you stood facing your dirty floor length mirror. you kept messing with your hair, doing your best to tame it but nothing seemed to be working as little bits just kept sticking out at the sides. sigh.

today was the day. after many, many weeks (a lifetime, really) matty was finally coming back to london. you'd been counting down the hours for this night since you last hugged him right outside the uber. "don't miss me too much, darling," he whispered before he kissed your lips one more time, hopped inside the car, and left you standing there, alone.

to say you missed him was an understatement. you tried to keep occupied by picking up extra shifts at the cafe, frequenting the cinema by yourself, rearranging your room several times, anything to keep your mind from that messy curly hair and pretty brown eyes. but nothing worked which made you feel sick to your stomach with longing.

every other minute he made his way back into your thoughts whether you wanted him there or not. you missed his stupid, silly grin. you missed his baggy clothes. you missed his hands tangled in yours. you missed seeing him walk through your door.

it was now 18:12 and you finally finished picking out your outfit. some sheer black tights, a short denim skirt and one of his shirts, the flowery one which he accidentally left at your flat years ago. the buttoned top was too large for your frame, but you didn’t care as it very faintly smelled of coffee, cigarettes and matty.

you were choosing a ring next when a knock at the door made your heart jump. the jewellery didn’t matter anymore as you swiftly ran across your hallway, thankful that your flatmate agreed to spend the night elsewhere because she knew what would end up happening. you smirked because you knew she wasn't wrong...

you swung the door open (a bit harder than you meant to) and there he was, holding one single white flower.

“i’m searching for my girlfriend. do you know where she might be?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help and laugh at his stupid pickup line. "is that really the best you could come up with during the last few months, healy?"

you stepped forward to wrap your arms around him, nestling your face in the crook of his neck and pulling yourself in as close as humanly possible. his arms found your waist and the both of you stood there while you felt the warm blood rush through your body.

“i missed you, matty” is all you managed to say before you pulled away just far enough to kiss him on the lips which he eagerly welcomed. he tasted of honey and everything was okay again. “i missed you, too, love.” you kissed once more.

you stepped aside to welcome him in, closed the door in front of you, taking a long, deep breath before turning around. he held out the small flower which you gladly took to place in a small bottle half-filled with water. you enjoyed that he was one for cheesy, romantic gestures because deep down you loved them even if you didn't admit to it.

matty sat down on the floor to take off his beat up sneakers. "huh, so i guess that's where my shirt went," he looked up and pointed at the top you wore. you decided to leave the upper three buttons undone which you hoped he would notice. "but it looks much better on you." he definitely noticed.

———

it was now 20:36. you'd both spent a few hours catching up, matty sharing his stories from tour while you made him a very simple but tasty dinner. "you have no idea how much i missed having food that doesn't come in a greasy paper bag." he ate up every single bit of the meal while you just watched from your spot on top of the kitchen counter, glass wine between your hands.

while you missed him when he was gone, you didn't envy the lifestyle of a touring band. it sounded lonely. even though there were many people around you, it appeared they only wanted to get in your bed. matty didn't seem to mind so it made you wonder if anything might’ve happened between him and others...

you continued to sip your wine, taking mental notes of his current appearance. his eyes were tired yet his greenish cardigan made them sparkle. his hair was slightly shorter than you remembered, yet defined curls still framing his face. he wore his usual necklace but there were some new ones added to the mix. you liked them (he knew you would).

when he finished his food, he got up to wash the dirty dishes and store them away. dear matty wasn't one to keep his own home clean but you appreciated his efforts to be better at your place. thank you.

he walked over to you (still on the countertop), snaked his arms around your waist and placed his head on your chest. you set your wine glass aside to play with his hair, soft and fluffy between your fingers. you definitely missed this.

it wasn't long before the both of you sat on the sofa messily kissing as if to make up for the time he was gone. you'd be lying if this wasn't what you’d been looking forward to the most, yet it still caught you by surprise when you found yourself straddling his lap. you realized what happened and it made your face turn red, which matty instantly noticed.

"are you okay, love?" he kissed the corner of your mouth, "we can always stop if you want." he gently ran his hands up and down your thighs to provide some comfort, eyebrows knitted together wondering if he had done something to upset you.

he had done nothing wrong. you hesitated because for once, you wanted to be in control. and knowing that you had mindlessly crawled on top of him made you realize you were about to make that happen. or at least attempt to.

you grabbed his hands in yours, placing them over his head and behind the sofa as his look of concern turned to that of hunger. you bent down to eagerly kiss him, making your way to his neck and leaving small red love bites all over. you could tell he wanted more as his hips started to shift up and down, but you didn't give him the satisfaction just yet. instead you bit down on his neck one last time before placing your forehead against his. "i want to be the one riding you tonight."

you saw as his pupils dilated at your request, his goofy grin starting to appear before your lips found his again to stop him from talking. (this wasn’t the time for cocky remarks, sorry matthew.) you could feel him melt underneath you as his fingers went soft in your grasp. "do you understand?" all he could do was nod before you bit his bottom lip, finally eliciting a moan from him. this was all the confirmation needed to boost your confidence.

matty gazed at you, slowly panting through parted lips as you brought his arms back over his head and placed his palms on your chest. he understood what you needed from him, as he started touching your breasts making you close your eyes and smile. “fuck, i want you.” he began to unbutton your shirt but you quickly swatted his hands away. “not time for that yet, i’m afraid.” the sounds that came from his lips were just heavenly, want dripping from every groan.

now you were the one who started to remove his cardigan, pulling at the fabric of his white shirt underneath until his upper half was bare. “you’re a thing of beauty.” you couldn’t help but kiss him again, holding on to his shoulders hard enough for your nails to dig into his skin, leaving more marks on his body.

you began to slowly grind your hips against him, feeling his excitement through his jeans. his fingers found your hips as he tried to get you to move faster. you stopped.

right away he knew he made a mistake, causing him to groan in frustration and cover his face with his hands. “this is not fair.” seeing him want you this bad was exactly what you had craved when you daydreamed of this scenario.

you removed his hands from his face and pressed a peck on his nose. “just taking my time to see what you do, baby. clearly it’s not your thing.” this made him chuckle but you could feel the tension building on his body as you slid down his lap, placing yourself on your knees right in front of him.

you pressed your cheek against his thigh, innocently looking up at him, batting your eyelashes at a sexually frustrated matty. you didn’t feel too bad for him.

now that you had started to undo his belt, he gazed down at you, bottom lip quivering between his teeth pleading for you to go faster. you managed to unzip his trousers, right away noticing a wet spot on his boxers which you touched with your thumb, swears leaving his mouth the second he felt you finally pay attention to his cock.

you pulled down his jeans which fell to pool at his ankles. you kissed his tip through the thin fabric, hands moving up to hook on the waistband and tugging it down. the dumb expression on his face was priceless. you had him were you wanted and there was nothing he could do about it.

all of his clothing was finally set aside. a naked matty sat right in front of you and you were pretty sure you could do anything. you still didn't feel bad for him.

———

you quickly glanced at your watch, the hands telling you it was 21:42. still on your knees, you decided it was maybe time to give poor matty some relief. he had tried his best after all.

when you started to stroke his cock, his head fell back and the sounds pouring out of his mouth were otherworldly. his hands were to his sides, grabbing at the fabric of the couch as you continued to move your own fingers up and down at a slow but steady pace.

once again you placed your cheek on his leg and looked up at him, taking a mental picture of wet parted lips, unruly brown hair, and slightly closed eyes.

he finally looked back at you, lifting his right hand to run it through your hair. even though you were giving him a hard time, he was gentle with you, knowing that hurried actions weren't going to get him anywhere tonight. you were glad he now understood. even though you wanted to be in control and make him come undone, you still yearned for softness and care, something which you've always wanted from a relationship but were never lucky to receive. this was the closest you've ever been.

you continued to stroke him while you brought your lips to his tip, taking him in your mouth. "fuck, fuck..." you knew it took all of matty's strength to not thrust his hips into you. good boy, you thought.

after a few minutes of licking and sucking, you stopped (sorry matthew), stood up and grabbed his hands in yours to lead him into your room. when the two of you reached your bed, you kissed him for the millionth time that night before gently pushing him into your bed. you both laughed, matty getting settled on your covers, head on your pillow, all while you took off your skirt and tights.

he stared at you getting undressed, doe eyed and sweet, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. ugh, he was perfect you had to admit.

in only your (well, his) shirt and underwear, you crawled on top of him, carefully sitting on his legs. this is how you had pictured this evening, you above him studying his every action.

you started to undo the remaining buttons of the flowered shirt one by one, taking your time getting to the last one. an excited matty lifted himself on his forearms, sucking at his bottom lip when the shirt fell off your arms and realized you had nothing underneath. "god, you're going to be the death of me."

he grabbed a hold of your thigh, drawing slow circles with his thumb wondering what your next move would be. what he wasn't expecting was to see you slide your hand down your panties and to start rubbing your clit. to be honest, neither did you.

but it felt good. you knew how to please yourself better than anyone and it was made infinitely better by having a horny boy gazing in your direction, lusting after you. his hand had stopped caressing your leg and instead he was holding on to it like his life depended on it. you continued to touch yourself, slowly moving your hips along and never breaking eye contact with him.

it wasn't long after that you inserted a finger, making sure he knew exactly what you were doing. you didn't confess that you did this same thing many times while he was gone, thinking of fucking him senseless. that's what you now wanted, too.

you pulled your hand out of your underwear and swiftly took them off in the process, finding yourself naked on top of a patient matty. you didn't waste any more time as you moved forwards, gently touching his lips as he opened his mouth to hungrily suck on your fingers. you wanted him to taste you, his moans reassuring you he was enjoying every second of it.

once your fingers were wet enough, you went straight for his cock again, but moved at a much faster pace than before. the poor boy couldn't keep a hold himself anymore, loud whimpers echoing off the walls and his whole body twitching underneath you. "please, fuck me." that's all you needed to hear before you kneeled forward to place him at your entrance and finally start riding him.

the sensation of him filling you up felt unlike anything else, making you arch your back in hopes of getting even closer to him. you couldn't go slow any longer, but your movements were still calculated, wanting to savour every single moment.

"you feel so good, sweetheart," he managed to mumble out between moans. his head was on the pillow, a lewd expression on his face as you continued to grind your hips against him, his hands firmly holding on to ensure you didn't stop.

your hair started to stick to your body as sweat appeared on your skin. you leaned back a little to keep yourself upright, while also giving him a better view. you knew exactly what you were doing and he took notice. a string of swears stumbled out of him, a look of nothing but hunger across his face as you kept thrusting yourself against him. "matty, please touch me."

you didn't need to ask him twice before he propped himself up to a sitting position and started to grab your breasts while you continued to fuck him. there was no harshness to his touch, which you greatly appreciated, a deep contrast to your hips frantically bucking back and forth on his hard cock.

his mouth went to your neck, placing small kisses wherever he could while moaning your name against your skin. it was all too much and not enough. he cupped your face, resting his forehead against yours, both breathing heavily and quietly laughing at the same time. just as the flower he gave you earlier that day, these cheesy, small gestures were what you craved the most. "matty."

it was at that moment that you hit your high, unable to control your movements any longer and giving yourself permission to let go as he held your body close. your head fell back as he carefully grabbed the side of your neck to ensure you didn't go far. a few seconds later you felt warmth as he came inside you, crying your name once again.

you kept your arms wrapped around each other for a while, him kissing the top of your head asking if you were okay. you nodded against his neck, unable to move much as most of your energy had all been spent.

eventually he fell down on his back and looked at you, “fuckin' hell, that was amazing.” he was still catching his breath, you both were. “maybe i should go on tour more if this is the welcome i get.” that earned him a pillow smack on the side of the head. “don’t get any ideas, healy. you got lucky this time.”

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 12

Part 12:

"Your apartment smells funny," Liana said as she entered the building and moved towards the main window. "We can buy a rug for the living room. Do you want one?" she asked after walking around the rooms in Patrick’s apartment. It was small. Living room, kitchen, bedroom, and a bathroom. It had been a month since she settled in the Oxford dorms. Patrick had arrived three days ago, and this was the first time they were meeting.

"Hey Amanda. I missed you too." Patrick leaned against the bedroom doorframe, watching her with amusement. She just couldn’t help it. She had to fix something. She would always find something that needed tidying and organizing. He had learned not to argue with this trait from a young age. He had learned that if he refused, she would withdraw into herself, and it would bother her until she could do something about it.

"Hey." She smiled genuinely and hugged him. Patrick looked almost the same as she remembered. Jet-lagged but pleased with his choices for a change. "Hey..." he refused to let go of her, inhaling her scent deeply like he always did when she allowed him.

"You're here." She took a step back and examined him, as if not believing it was really happening. As if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment. That’s how Patrick decided to interpret her facial expression, even if that’s not what reality was showing him. He would take the current smile any day over another day where she was at a certain point on the map and he was on the other side of the world. "So many possibilities, Amanda." He couldn’t stop smiling. "Let's find you a rug and some pillows for the couch, okay?" she replied, trying to solve the current problem she had found for herself; his apartment.

They wandered around London for hours. Stopped for lunch at a small Italian restaurant. Went into a small museum and did some window shopping at brand stores neither of them could afford. Liana’s laughter filled the space occasionally. A sound Patrick prayed to dream about when he would be alone without her scrutinizing gaze around.

As the sun set, they sat on the grass in a park near Liana’s dorms, each holding an ice cream cone. "I think I found a job," she said, trying to eat as much of the ice cream as she could before it melted completely. "Where?" he asked with curiosity. "There’s a cafeteria in Oxford that sells smoothies and other things that pretentious people willing to pay unreasonable amounts. I’ll probably start next week." She smiled, pleased with herself. "Will you be able to balance it with your studies?" he asked. "I have to try. My parents were barely willing to keep paying for my studies as long as I'm not at Stanford, and I don’t want to take an actual loan just to be able to pay for food. It feels unnecessary and lazy." She shrugged, as if it was self-evident.

"You're tough. You’ll make it. When do classes start?" he asked. "In a week. I’m stressed. But a friend of my roommate, Flor, is starting with me, and I met her. She seems nice." Liana chatted about people she had met in the past month. "You're nice." Patrick smiled his characteristic smile when he tried to dodge the implications of what he was saying. It was a toothy grin that included a dimple. It usually highlighted his eyes, showing something mischievous that at age 20 should have started to fade. But not with Patrick. "You're a jerk." Liana rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder, which automatically made him grab her hand.

Liana couldn’t help but think about Art. About the fact that it was the same gesture. Art had held her just like that at the Christmas party. She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat for a moment. Not wanting to change the atmosphere too much but feeling the shift anyway.

Patrick felt the change too, but it was like background noise. He understood something happened but didn’t know what. This wasn’t the first time he touched Liana. You could say he was a touchy person by nature. It wasn’t new and didn’t characterize just his relationship with her. "What just happened?" he asked with a chuckle, as if it wasn’t really important. As if it wasn’t serious. As if he could breathe properly and wasn’t trying to correct the mistake he made a moment ago. As if he wouldn’t do anything to make her laugh again and not look at him with furrowed brows.

"Nothing. It’s getting late. Shall we go?" she asked, with a smile that didn’t reach her ears. One that showed teeth but not all of them. One that hid from him what she really felt. He hated that smile.

"Patrick! You'll have ants in your house!" Liana scolded. No, she wasn’t just scolding; she was fuming. Three months had passed since Patrick moved to London. His coach, Kirk Fucking Morcich, was objectively the best coach he had ever had. He had improved tremendously. From the moment Patrick decided to take tennis seriously and not just as a way to avoid a real job, he started seeing results.

He still had to attend the annoying courses his parents signed him up for. But he had already won a tournament in Europe. Something he didn’t think would happen, and certainly not so soon.

His parents were proud of him. A strange feeling. An almost unfamiliar feeling. His mother called him and actually said those words, “Hey Pat, your dad and I read about you in the paper. Well done.” And he wanted to find something bad and start a fight because he didn’t know any other way to talk to his mother, but he said “thanks” quietly and felt himself blush. Like a little boy needing a kind word from an adult who was never really responsible. Not for what mattered.

“You can’t just leave your food out like this, Pat.” Liana interrupted his train of thought. “It’s not that bad.” He responded with an eye roll. “Patrick, it’s moldy. It’s been sitting on your table with actual mold. How am I supposed to wash this? It’s disgusting!” she fumed. Her cheeks were red, and her hand moved quickly over her nose.

“You don’t have to wash it. Did I ask you to wash it? Just throw the plate away; I have more plates.” He rolled his eyes again. “Why can’t you take anything seriously?!” Liana nearly stomped her foot. “Did we get married or something? Because this relationship doesn’t have the benefits of marriage, you just yell at me after I haven’t been home for a week.” He sighed and sat on the couch, officially tired of this argument. “No, Patrick, we didn’t get married, and sorry I don’t want you to die of dysentery while you’re living alone.” She shot back, and he heard the plate land in the sink. “So instead of throwing it away, you decided to break it?” He started getting angry too, because lately, that’s how all their conversations looked. Conversations about why he didn’t wash dishes, why he left the milk out, why he didn’t water the plant she bought him, why he didn’t show up at the bar her friend worked at, why he didn’t.

And he just wanted to tell her that if she acted like he was her boyfriend, then she should let him touch her the way he wanted to touch her. But they hadn’t had that conversation yet. He hadn’t told her that when he wasn’t thinking about tennis, he was thinking about her, and to be honest, if he wasn’t thinking about those two things, he was thinking about Art. And he knew she was thinking about Art too. And maybe they needed to have a conversation about fucking Art.

“I didn’t break it. Calm down.” She muttered. Liana had managed to somehow find herself in London. She couldn’t say that about any other period in her life. She enjoyed her studies and had met quite a few new people. People she liked being around. People she wasn’t embarrassed around and felt comfortable drinking wine with. She was a person who enjoyed wine now. Some might say Liana had grown up. She would agree with them.

One time, after drinking wine with her new friends, she called Art. She would say it didn’t happen until her dying day. She wouldn’t have anyone to say it to because he didn’t answer, and she didn’t plan on going around telling the world she drunkenly called Art Donaldson. It was embarrassing.

Patrick was always busy. Tennis. Fucking tennis. She hated tennis so much, and as someone who didn’t even know how to hold a racket properly, she couldn’t escape this terrible game.

So as close as Patrick had been during these months, he was still far away. She had hoped so much that he would be an integral part of this experience. That he would love London as much as she loved London, but he just loved playing tennis in London, and she was losing to the ball and racket again and again throughout her life. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Why are you mad at me?” Patrick stood up, moving towards the kitchen, leaning against the door in his characteristic way. “I’m not mad at you.” She rolled her eyes, her back to him, trying to wash the plate he ruined with food he didn’t clean up in time. “This is pointless.” She muttered to herself. “That passive-aggressive vibe might work with Art. It doesn’t work on me. Either tell me why you’re mad or let me go rest.” He said, not taking his piercing gaze off her back.

“Do you want me to leave?” She turned to him. Her expression made it clear she was hurt. She completely ignored the comment about Art. Patrick didn’t want to keep ignoring comments about Art. “I want you to tell me what you want from me, Liana. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.” He started moving towards her. “I don’t want anything from you, Patrick. You’re my friend. We came here together, and I care about you. That’s all.” She shrugged and looked everywhere in the room except his face.

“Liana.” He stood in front of her, demanding. Something in his tone made her look directly at him. “What?” Her voice was quiet. She hated her voice. Why did she always sound so desperate?! “Why are we fighting about dishes when you don’t live here? You understand that’s ridiculous?” He asked, not letting go and not changing his tone out of pity for her soft voice. “I’m not fighting with you. I want you to be reasonable. Do you think I enjoy playing mommy with you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms beneath her chest.

Patrick stared at her chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. Fuck it. “You can’t act like we’re sleeping together while not sleeping with me. That’s absurd.” He realized he had said it only when he saw her eyes widen and her face turn red. “You think I’m hitting on you, Patrick? Is that what you think this is?” She asked, her voice unsteady. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. God. Why is this happening to her? “Eat from your disgusting plate with mold for all I care. I won’t say a word.” She said and tried to move past him. It was her cue to leave before this conversation escalated. He pulled her back with a quick but not overly forceful hand movement. She knew he had a lot more strength in him. She knew he was fire. In the pair Fire and Ice, he would always be Fire. “Patrick.” Her weak voice almost whispered. “You’re not hitting on me?” He asked, also in a low voice. He seemed relatively calm considering the storm of emotions within him.

Patrick decided he had nothing more to lose. He was improving. He was maturing. He asked his parents for help. He had moved halfway across the world to be close to her. He was becoming the best version of himself. And to be honest, Patrick knew that if Liana had settled for the mediocre and basic version of Art, there was no reason he shouldn’t at least try. So Patrick decided to try.

“No...” She bit her lip and looked at him without breaking eye contact. “Bullshit.” He laughed. He just laughed in her face and didn’t release his hold. “You’re walking around my apartment, dressed in short clothes in fucking December in London. Getting mad about plates. Liana. Even you can’t be that naive about what this does to me after a week of a tournament. A grueling week of victories without anyone to celebrate my success.” He considered kissing her neck at that moment. He thinks she would let him. Now, looking at her, he was sure she would let him do whatever he wanted with her. And he was a greedy bastard. He wanted everything.

“Liana. Look at me.” He demanded. Not letting go. She looked. “Why are we fighting?” He asked. The stern tone made her blink. “I missed you.” She said, defeated.

“It’s really hard when you’re supposedly here but not really here, and I know you’re here for tennis, but I wanted you to be here for me too, and it’s okay if we have separate lives here, I do too—” Patrick cut off her endless ramblings because he knew she wouldn’t stop talking if it was up to her. His lips found hers, and his hands held the back of her head. and somehow she actually kissed him back.

The feeling of Patrick’s lips on hers was different from the feeling of Art’s lips. Liana hated herself for comparing him to Art. She wondered if every person who will kiss her would automatically be compared to the person who hurt her the most. She wondered if that’s how she would live the rest of her life. And during these existential thoughts, she realized the bitter truth. Art Donaldson would be a part of her forever.

“Pat. Wait. We can’t. We can’t do this.” She put a small hand on his chest, and he took a step back. Because when a girl told Patrick she wanted to stop, he stopped. “Why can’t we?” He didn’t look amused. He looked angry and hungry and tired, all in the once. In the same body movements. “You know why” Liana sighed.

Silence fell in his kitchen.

"You don't owe him anything," Patrick stated. This time he felt like he's the one who could stomp his foot like a kid in the middle of a tantrum.

"I know." She bit her lip.

"I don't owe him anything," he said, this time not looking at her. Because if she saw his face, she'd know he was lying to himself. Liana always saw him. She saw him stripped of defenses. And his biggest defense right now was tied to the girl in front of him and the fact that they both missed Art. And he did owe him the love of his life.

Because Liana still didn't know what Patrick and Art both knew clearly; Patrick had won. She would be his the moment he decided so.

"Liana. Please let me kiss you." His voice was weak, and his gaze shifted to her. His eyes still screamed fire. Fire. Fire. Danger. Run. Fire. Stay away. Get closer. Fire. Danger. Fire. "Liana." He said again, closer now, breathing the same air she breathed. The air she exhaled entered his lungs. He moved his hand back to her neck. The other hand, unashamedly, grabbed her ass in a half-pinch. It was a grip that didn't retreat, didn't regret, didn't shy away. As if he was born to hold her exactly like this. Exactly how he wanted. "Patrick." She didn't recognize the sound that escaped her mouth out of surprise, but she recognized Patrick's smile just a second before his lips were on hers again. Patrick had decided.

Hey thereeee It's London and it's Patrick's time to shine. What are we feeling about everything? Talk to me. I'm dying to know what you're thinking as usual.

taglist: @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[cursingtoji]

“You’re late” a 12 year old Megumi states jogging in your direction after spotting you and his dad.

“Yeah thanks to your highness over here” Toji nudges you.

“Sorry baby,” you kiss Megumi on the cheek “I miss-placed my wedding ring when I was gardening and took me half an hour to find it.”

“Couldn’t you come without it?”

“That’s what I told your father” you give Toji a ‘see?’ look.

“Absolutely not, especially not here” your husband place his hand possessively around your waist.

“What does tha— never mind, I’m taking you guys to my classroom” Megumi leads the way.

On this day his school was holding an event for parents and family to visit and see some of the work the kids have been doing giving the parents an opportunity to speak to the teachers and discuss their children performance.

So obnoxious Toji thinks, it’s all an attempt to raise money anyways, the kids are young and are not doing anything super risky so this was basically a PTA meeting.

“Honey?” you call Toji that replies with a low hum “Since we are here, what do you think about checking Mai and Maki? You know, see if they need anything” you suggest knowing the twins don’t have an easy time around their family.

“You know where your cousins might be, kid?” he asks Megumi that points across the fields, “Will you be okay?” Toji asks, since you’re not a sorcerer he gets tense about bringing you to such places considering his own past against the jujutsu world.

“Of course, ‘Gumi will stay with me” you rub your kid’s back.

Megumi takes you to a classroom where a couple of parents are sitting and a tall white haired man leans on a desk answering questions.

“That’s Gojo-sensei.”

“Figured” you heard about Megumi’s teacher from him and also Toji, “I thought he was younger, your dad always call him six eye brat” you whisper to Megumi.

“He calls everyone kid and brat, mom” you giggle along Megumi.

His sensei says goodbye to the last couple and welcomes you.

“Ah the Fushiguro matriarch!” he stands hovering over you, “You came by yourself?”

“Hello, Mr. Gojo, thanks for taking care of my boy” you ruffle Megumi’s hair and he rolls his eyes, “My husband is checking on something, so I guess it’s only the three of us for now.”

Gojo smiles and proceeds to go through a bit of what Megumi had been working on the past months and how he progressed. You listen carefully and Megumi is actually surprised about how maturely Gojo is leading this conversation.

After a few minutes you spot Maki crossing the hallway.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” you ask Gojo and he nods as you raise and run to catch Maki.

“Sorry, my mom worries about them” Megumi justifies.

Gojo raisers one side of his blindfold to peek at you delicately running through the hallway to meet Maki.

“Megumi, let me ask something” he says seriously, “Can your dad still fight?”

Megumi blinks twice wondering if he heard the question correctly then follows his sensei’s gaze to his mother who is now holding Maki’s face looking for any signs of mistreatment.

For a second Megumi considers saying yes just so his sensei leaves his mother alone, but after a second he thinks both Gojo and his dad could use some beating.

“Find out for yourself.”

“Got a text from Megumi’s sensei” you say hopping on the bed later that night.

“The six eye brat?”

“Yeah, he insisted for me to have his number in case of an emergency.”

“Let me see it” Toji asks and you handle him your phone.

It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Fushiguro, I hope our paths cross again.

— Satoru.

Ms. Fushiguro? Toji side-eyes the ring at your left hand that hasn’t come out since he helped you find it that morning. Maybe he should get you a bigger one. Or maybe he should have a talk with six eye brat.

[swiss-mrs]

EVERMORE: Chapter One

Eddie Munson Fic - Evermore Directory - Word Count: 7.4K

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Music blared through Eddie’s ears as he stared out the dingy bus window. “It's for the best, kid.” Wayne's voice echoed through his mind. “You know I care for you, son, but I have no clue how to handle this.” His uncle's sorrowful and concerned expression was drilled into Eddie’s mind.

It's been three months since his return, six since his ‘death’. The world has fallen into autumn, red and brown leaves adorning the trees that pass in a blur. “You'll master your powers and meet others like you. I'll miss you all over again, man.” He could still feel Dustin's tears soaking through his shirt.

Eddie wasn't completely alone on the bus. Aside from the driver, there was a girl, probably around 15, sobbing in the back of the bus, and a boy who looked no or older than 12 or 13 towards the front of the bus, staring out the window in a similar fashion to Eddie. His eyes were dry, but he didn't really look happy to be on this bus ride either. 

Eddie was sat in the middle, a good amount of space between both the others. According to his watch, they were about 11 hours into their 13 hour drive. He glances over his shoulder to find the girl passed out against the window with dried tears on her face. He turns to look in front of him to find the boy still staring out the window blankly. He wondered if either of these children went through the same thing he did. Did they also suddenly gain mysterious, super natural powers they can't seem to control? Did they too do something unforgivable to put them here? He sighs and averts his eyes back to the window. The morning sun was peeking over the skyline. Did they always do night pickups? Was it to hide their shipments?

Eddie's leg began to bounce as they neared closer and closer. ‘Welcome to Vermont’ the sign read as they passed. He knew this was the best choice but that couldn't stop his heart from feeling betrayed and bitter.

Over the last three months, he was plagued with night terrors and migraines. It made him detached and irritable beyond belief. He lost count how many times Wayne was unfortunately on the wrong end of those lash outs. Every time, Eddie felt a pang of regret immediately after, but that didn't keep it from happening again and again.

Eddie was never this bad. He'd always been a good kid despite what everyone thought, despite his transcript. Wayne had no clue what to do when Eddie came back a full 180. The last thing he was expecting that day was to find his dead nephew alive and passed out on their front porch.

Wayne genuinely thought he might’ve been hallucinating. All the exhaustion had fleeted, and he rushed Eddie inside to keep him from prying eyes. It was a miracle no one saw him. When he woke, Eddie was too weak to actually explain himself, not that he even had answers to give. Eventually, Wayne just said to hell with it, and simply catered to his kid. Never in all of Eddie's years had he ever known Wayne to take a day off, but for Eddie, he took several. Three days and nights were spent aiding Eddie back to health. He fed him when he was too weak to lift a spoon and held him when he cried from head splitting nightmares. By the morning of day four, Eddie was at least able to make it to the bathroom and back on his own. Wayne made sure to have some food prepared for Eddie in case he got hungry during his night shift and told him to call if anything went wrong. He'd be back in a heartbeat.

As the weeks went by, Eddie became stronger and stronger, more than before. His night terrors didn't stop, but he was at least able to stop screaming and crying himself awake.

It was just two weeks ago that Eddie had done something he couldn't forgive himself for. He hurt Wayne.

He remembers the dream like  a real memory. He was taller, bigger, but, somehow, he also felt lighter. He remembers looking down at his hands and seeing his pale fingers were replaced with slender, dark gray appendages. His blunt fingernails were now black sharp claws. His back felt heavy, like someone had strapped 300 pound weights to his shoulder blades. He remembers looking down at his body and being horrified. He's a monster, a real monster. His breathing started to pick up, and he began to feel lightheaded, a dull thumping in his mind. Though he was panicked at the sight of himself, there was this itching in the back of his brain. Something was there. He had felt an urge he'd never felt before. It was dark and malevolent. It scared him. What's happening to me?! He began thrashing about at the stale air around him, an unfamiliar roar coming from within him, rumbling through his chest. It was so boisterous that it rattled his own eardrums.

He was shaken out of his dream by the sound of his uncle's voice, “Christ!” Eddie's eyes rip open, and he immediately realizes his back on the ceiling. As soon as the realization hits, he falls to his bed, bouncing off and onto the floor with a heavy thud. Still in his panicked state, he yells, scrambling to back away from an invisible horror in front of him. Wayne made the mistake of rushing to his aid.

Feeling a grip on his shoulder in the midst of his screaming panic, Eddie swings an arm around, clawing at the perpetrator. “Ah!” His uncle's voice rings out in pain. Eddie's eyes snap up to the source, finding Wayne falling back, clutching his chest. Blood escapes his skin, staining the torn front of his shirt. Eddie stares up at his shocked uncle in terror.

“Wayne!” He yells, full of concern. He reaches out to him but is immediately taken aback when he sees the black, blood soaked claws on his hand. The tips of his fingers were shade gray as if halfway turned into the monster he was in his dream. He screams in horror at the sight of his own hand.

“Son!” Wayne's voice yells. Despite the blood rising down his front, Wayne closes in on Eddie, gripping his shoulders to grab his attention. Eddie's eyes find Wayne's, and he stops screaming. Tears immediately fill his eyes, and his uncle painfully brings him into his chest, holding him tightly. As Wayne rocked side to side, Eddie could feel the warmth of his uncle’s blood smear on his face and neck. Eddie sobbed uncontrollably, struggling to breathe as his heart pounded irregularly in his chest.

Eddie closes his eyes and leans his head against the bus window with a dull thud. He could feel his eyelashes dampen at the memory of that night, an all too familiar anxious drumming behind his ribs. This is for the best. He repeats in his head. He can't allow something like that to happen again, ever. 

Before he knows it, the bus is passing a ‘Welcome to Jericho’ sign then not too long after driving through a black metal gate that reads ‘Nevermore Academy’ at the top in a gothic font. The bus pulls to a stop into the driveway.

Wordlessly, the driver exits the bus after opening the doors for the few passengers. Eddie takes in the new location through the window. There's an older, dark skinned man with dreadlocks conversing with the bus driver, giving him a friendly greeting with a smile. Are those horns? The man helps load the few bags that were in the bus's storage compartment into a trailer on the back cart of a small vehicle. They give each other their farewells and the bus driver goes to tend to the bus while the man hops in the car to drive away.

“Hey, mister?” Eddie's gaze switches to the little boy who was now standing in the aisle looking at Eddie. He takes one of his wired earbuds out.  “It's time to get off.” The boy says timidly. Eddie nods and stands up in his seat, towering over the kid. The little boy turns to rush off the bus as Eddie puts his backpack on. He glances around the bus to realize it's empty. The girl must've already got off too.

Eddie trudged down the aisle, ducking a little to avoid bumping his head against the roof of the bus. He walks down the stairs, slowly stepping off the final one as he takes in a deep breath. The air here was a bit chilly, crisp, but it filled his lungs graciously. He walks up to stand beside the two younger kids. They stand in a line, in front of a tall platinum blonde woman dressed in a monochrome, light gray outfit. She began to speak a ingenuine speech, no doubt repeated a million times to every new arrival. Eddie tuned her out, just taking in her appearance. Her eyes were a piercing blue shade, and her lips were colored red, highlighting her smile. Her teeth were white and perfectly aligned. She had an unreadable aura around her. She reminded Eddie of a shark. Her sheer existence is just off-putting.

It seemed like her speech was coming to an end as she then gestures to a student beside her. “This will be your mentor, your guide, Mr. Sheridan.” She averts her eyes to look down at the young man standing next to her. He could easily be around 18 years old, most likely a senior or something. His dark brown hair was cut short and styled perfectly. He had blue eyes, defined lips, and a strong jawline. Judging from his looks, his neat appearance, and ironed stiff school uniform, he must be this school's ‘The King’ equivalent. He held a tight, polite smile. “Mr. Sheridan here is a great student who will ensure to take good care of you. You truly are in good hands.” He looks up at the official looking lady with a bashful grin before looking back at the three. He nods to the younger kids then looks over to Eddie with a curious expression. Eddie looks deadpan at the guy and the student turns to address the full group.

“It is an honor to meet you all.” His English accent rings out. Eddie fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I will be your go to informant to guide you and get you accustomed to the ins and outs of our daily life here at Nevermore Academy.” Jeez, this guy sounds like a douche. Eddie thinks, using the second scripted speech to get a good look at the building and grounds from where he stood. “Please, follow me.” Eddie's attention is brought back to the senior as the kids next to him start moving.

“Welcome to Nevermore, dear students!” The lady calls out as they walk passed. Eddie ignores the spiel getting rambled off about how their first days will be laid out, instead looking around at the campus as they walk through. He's enamored by the sights the school offers. It's something straight out of a book. His chest can't help but feel a little giddy.

The campus seems strangely empty for being as large as it is. As if reading his mind, the young boy raises his hand to ask a question, “Excuse me, Mr. Sheridan?”

“Please, my name is Matthew or Matt, for short.”

“Where are all the other students?” The tan boy asks. The student, Matt, gives the shorter kid a kind smile and nods.

“Good question.” He chuckles, “Classes are in session right now. You three arrived kind of mid-day for most of us.” He looks down at his silver, expensive looking watch, causing Eddie to subconsciously do the same with his much less expensive, rubber one. 10:36 AM. Eddie drops his wrist. “Actually, this class period should be releasing some students here in about the next 15 minutes.” He looks back up at the trio with a polite grin. “We're making pretty good time. Our first stop is going to be the administrative office. We'll get your schedules. You'll get fitted for your uniforms, and we'll get your dorm keys.” He turns back around with a motion to continue following him. Eddie trails behind a little, not necessarily in any hurry.

Matt opens up the door to the office, holding it ajar for the trio to enter ahead of him. Oh, what a gentleman. Eddie fawns sarcastically in his head. Matt nods cordially at him as he passes, following behind Eddie as he enters. “Matthew, my boy!” A deep voice booms, naturally demanding Eddie's attention.

“Good morning, Professor Shaw. How are you? I have our new arrivals here.” The blue eyed boy turned to gesture to the new students, all of whom were staring at the horns atop the older man’s head. Man, this guy looks something straight out of DND. His deep skin tone complimented his golden irises. He stood quite a few inches over everyone else and was obviously built sturdy underneath his neutral toned, professional attire. 

“I see! Hello, young man.” The older man directs at the little boy. “M'lady.” He nods to the teen girl nicely. He then turns to Eddie. “Mr. Edward Munson. I presume?” Eddie's brows raise, shocked to hear his name come off the older man's tongue. Great, I'm already known here by name.

“Eddie, sir.” He corrects. The man raises his brows slightly and gives a frown of approval, nodding his head.

“Eddie it is. Pleasure to meet you. Pleasure to meet you all.” His attention is brought back to the other two. “I'm Professor Gardnal Shaw. I primarily work here in the admissions office, but I am also the teacher for Intro to More class, a course you all will undoubtedly be attending.” He smiles proudly. He lifts a hand towards the right side of the huge office. “If you would please, follow me.” He leads the way to a portion sectioned off behind a heavy velvet curtain, Matthew second in line. The teenage girl was next then the little boy after her. Eddie towered over the both of them from behind. His eyes are forward, but he catches the young boy in front of him timidly glancing back at him. Eddie offers a ghost of a smile, not wanting to make the kid any more nervous or uncomfortable around him. The boy's eyes widen when Eddie's eyes catch his gaze. An awkward smile sneaks onto his adorable face as he quickly turns to face forward. Eddie holds in a laugh, curiosity overtaking him. Wonder what this kid got himself into.

As the group passes the threshold of the curtain, they are met with an older, glasses wearing woman. She looks like the nicest middle aged lady you’ll ever encounter the way her face lights up at the sight of new students. “Students, this is our lovely seamstress, Ms. Glenda. She will be assisting you with your uniforms.” Mr. Shaw announces with his hands clasped together in front of him.

“New arrivals!” She exclaimed excitedly.

“Good Morning, Ms. Glenda.” Matt adds. She turns to him with a kind grin, her eyes crinkling at their corners.

“Well, good morning to you, Matthew. Very dashing, as always.” She compliments, motherly. The young man blushes, his bitten back smile extenuating his cheekbones. She turns her attention back to the new faces before he can come back with anything. “Now, who do we have here!” She adjusts her little, wire rimmed glasses and squints at the three. “A stunning young lady, an adorable little man, and quite a handsome young fellow, hmm.” The three all have their respective bashful, avoiding glances. “You,” All three lift their heads, but find her attention on Eddie specifically. Eddie's heart picks up slightly, nervous of what she may say next. “You, young man, are a bit older than the normal new arrivals I'm used to seeing.” She lifts her chin to look down the tip of her nose through her falling glasses. Eddie's brows furrowed in confusion as his eyes flit from one face to another, awkwardly glancing at each person in the room. Before he can open his mouth to say anything, Mr. Shaw buts in to take over.

“Sir Eddie here is the first of many to come. Our academy is expanding the age range of our admissions to include those who may have found changes later in life.” The man eloquently clarifies, giving Eddie a comforting grin. Great, ‘first of many’. Even amongst ‘outcasts’, I'm still an outcast.

“Ah, I see. Well, that's wonderful news.” The older lady says, voice full of warmth and welcome. She grins softly. “Well, let's get you all fitted! You've got a lot more to do today!” She smiles widely before pulling each new student in one by one to get them situated with uniforms.

The next two hours were spent in the office, getting uniforms, schedules, and supplies. Following the admin office, Matt guided them around campus, giving them a tour of the common yard, the libraries, showing them different wings for the different studies offered before finally leading them to the massive cafeteria.

The café had two levels. The main floor held a buffet spread of rotating foods, vending machines, and several rows of tables. The second floor was a balcony that had additional seating overlooking the main floor. On the far side of the cafeteria was floor to ceiling windows, presenting a mystical view of the Vermont countryside. “Alright, I think this is a perfect time as any to take a break and get some lunch.” Matt announced, looking down at his watch to see the time as 12:45 PM. “Take an hour to relax and eat. I'll be back to collect you three around 1:45, so we can head to the dorms for you all to get settled in. For now, help yourselves to whatever you’d like.” The uniformed guide clasps his hands together, gives them a nod, and walks away.

The two kids glance at each other then at Eddie. The teenage girl walks off first. The little boy glances back to Eddie after watching the girl walk away. He looks like he wants to say something, which Eddie raises a brow to, but ultimately, he scurries away.

Eddie sighs and follows suit, assembling himself a plate of food that appears too appetizing to be a school lunch. He spots an empty seat next to the massive windows on the main floor. He’s one of the only few not wearing a uniform, so on top of his obvious age difference, his attire makes him stand out like a sore thumb. This causes him to catch a couple curious glances from some passing students, nothing he isn’t already used to.

As he walks to the empty table, he gets a pretty decent idea of different cliques. Even in this world, high schoolers aren't too different. On top of grouping up by sport or ‘status’, one of the obvious differences is that some are separated by species.

Eddie had to use everything in him not to stare at some of the more obvious ones, some with unnaturally colored skin tones, some with horns, others with tusks for canines. It was incredible to see in person something he’d only ever imagined or seen in movies and books. Man, what the guys would say about this. He shakes his head, looking down with a small chuckle. He successfully makes it to the targeted seat without issue. He drops his bag to the floor beneath him and starts eating, “Mmmm.” Holy shit. The food here is just as good as it looks. He hums to himself. After that first bite, suddenly all the hunger his emotions were hiding came to the surface. His stomach growled, begging for more. He scarfs down half his plate before something out the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Outside, several feet down in somewhat of a courtyard he’d had yet to tour, there was a group of students. Are those real? The thing that caught his eyes was the glimmering of metal. The afternoon sun reflecting off steel weapons and shields. Eddie drops his hands to the table to watch the commotion going on outside. There were stairs that led off the slide of the cliff that held the main school building. There were two students walking down them with trays of food. On their uniform jackets were added emblems that took up most of the space on their back panels. It was difficult to get a clear view of the royal purple embroidery from this far, but from what Eddie could tell, it looked like a sword with wings where the cross guard should be.

Eddie’s brows draw closer together as he squints to try and get a better look at the group below. All of the ones sparring had taken their jackets off. The others that were seated and eating were too small for Eddie to see their jackets any clearer, but he does notice one person in particular. 

Atop a boulder on the edge of the courtyard stood an observer dressed in the same purple and black striped uniform jacket and black pants. This observer had a golden sash hanging across their torso, fastened together at the hip, something only seen on royal families. They seemed to be yelling out orders or instructions ever so often. Standing next to the boulder was another onlooker.

This person had short brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and a hard gaze. Their white button down shirt was tucked into their black uniform pants. Even from this distance, Eddie could see the white long sleeves were struggling to contain their crossed, muscular arms. Jesus, who are these people? Eddie looks down in shock. Eddie’s eyes are back on the golden sash student as they hop down from their high point to go up to the two sparrers.

Taking one of the swords as they talk, they ready themselves for what seems to be a demonstration. Eddie watches as they start swinging the sword around, immediately catching the attention of all the other students around. They can be seen talking as they move so fiercely. Each swing of the sword is incredibly controlled and impactful. The fight is intense, yet the observer is basically floating, light on their feet, still talking. Everything done was talked through and masterfully executed. You definitely had to be their leader.

Without much difficulty, you were able to disarm your opponent, turning to the one you assumed the place of with a nod, handing them back their sword. Some of the students watching even clapped. Eddie looked on in disbelief at the scene that just unfolded. Wow. He looks down at his half empty plate. Those look like real heroes.

The rest of his lunch was spent taking bites of his food as he looked out the window, utterly intrigued. A cough of someone clearing their throat brings Eddie out of his trance. He whips his head around to see Matthew the Guide looking down at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time I take you to your dorm for you to become acquainted with your new roommate.” He says with a small, kind, and a little awkward smile. Eddie raises his brow and nods.

“Whatever you say,” Eddie stands, bringing his backpack up with him. He stands an inch or so above Matt. He cocks his head to the side and gives him a sarcastic grin. “Dashing young fellow.” Eddie says, mimicking Matt's English accent. Matt's small smile drops a bit. He sighs, a small glare squinting his eyes.

“We’ll be waiting for you over by the doors.” He turns and strides away. Eddie huffs out a puff of air. He picks up the remnants of his lunch and drops it off at a trash can on his way to where Henry and the other two new kids stand. “Alright, now that we’re all here.” He smiles sarcastically at Eddie before turning to the other two with a more genuine smile. “Let’s head to the dorms.”

Matt leads the three to the different student housing areas. They dropped off the teenage girl to her building, Matt handing her off to that building’s dorm manager. Next was the young boy Eddie would come to know as Anthony. He was dropped off at his door as he, Eddie, and Matthew all stayed in the same building. Once he disappeared behind the door with his new roommate, Matt and Eddie were left alone. “Come on.” Matt says, walking away without sparing another glance at Eddie. Eddie’s lip turns up in a grimace.

“Hey, man. Careful with the attitude.” He bites back, catching up with Matthew. He scoffs.

“Me? You’re the one with an attitude, young fellow.” Matt gives Eddie a hard look. Eddie is stubborn with his defiance.

“Whatever, man.” Eddie scoffs and looks away.

“Listen, I understand if you are not necessarily happy to be here, but you don’t need to be rude.” Eddie’s brows raise in disbelief.

“I’m not being rude, and don’t act like you know anything about me. You’re the one who gave me a weird look the second I get here.” Eddie shoots back. Matt sighs.

“Like Shaw said, we don’t usually get new students over the age of 16, so I was just a bit caught off guard. I admit it may have not been very welcoming, but I don’t think that should get me on your bad side before we’ve even gotten to know each other.” Matt goes on.

Eddie glances over at the guide through his peripheral. They enter the empty elevator, heading up. Matt stares forward with his jaw clenched, obviously annoyed that he has to be in an enclosed space with Eddie. There’s a few seconds of silence after the doors close before Eddie sighs.

“Look, man.” Eddie starts. “I’m sorry. These past few months have really turned my world… upside down.” Eddie frowns with a thousand yard stare. Henry spares Eddie a glance over his shoulder. Eddie rolls his shoulders back, bringing himself back to reality. “I’m used to being Eddie ‘The Freak’. Ironically, even here I’m a freak among ‘freaks’.” The way Matt doesn’t even bat an eye at being called a freak is a bit strange for Eddie. “I guess, I just came in swingin’, preemptively judging you too early.” Eddie tilts his head. “You kind of remind me of this one guy, ‘The King’ of Hawkins. He was a pretty big asshole to ‘freaks’." Matthew nods understandingly. “But, what do you know, he turned out alright when I met him again later.” Eddie sighs, “Sorry.”

“You know, you should realize something,” Eddie looks up, eyes on the back of Matt's head as he stares forward. “Nevermore is a school just like every other, but most people here are coming from a place in your shoes. Sometimes people here forget, but outside these walls, beyond that gate, we’re all just freaks, monsters,... evil to the rest of the world.” Matt looks down the bridge of his proud nose with a familiar distant stare. The elevator doors open and Matthew walks out without missing a beat.

They pass a few doors before Matt speaks up again. “I am your ‘mentor’,” He halts in front of a door, turning to Eddie, “I am not your enemy.” He looks Eddie in the eyes with determination, trying to get through to him. “You should know, even if we are not meant to be ‘friends’, I am still an ally. If you need help with anything, you can reach out to me.” Eddie holds Matt's gaze, unsure of what to say next. He’s never gotten an actual warm welcome before. Matt's lips form a thin line as he gives Eddie a tight smile before nodding once. He lifts a hand to knock on the door they are outside of.

There's stumbling and a commotion on the other side of the door. Eddie’s brows crease in suspicion at the noises, but Matt just sighs and rolls his eyes. The door swings open revealing a young, dark skinned boy with wide, shocked eyes. He was huffing like he just ran a marathon, undoubtedly from stumbling over stuff in the room to get to the door. “Junior.” Matt says in a warning tone through gritted teeth and an annoyed smile. Junior avoids Matt's eyes by awkwardly staring at anything on the floor.

Eddie glances between Matt and the kid, Junior. Matt turns to Eddie, “Eddie, meet Junior,” He turns to gesture to the kid. “Your new roommate.” Matt raises a threatening brow at Junior. “Junior, meet Eddie.”

“H-Hi,” The kid’s voice cracks awkwardly, “Come- Come on in.” Junior turns to walk away from the door, going further into the room. Eddie glances one last time at Matt. Matt looks over to Eddie with a sigh and raises his brows.

“Good luck.” He mutters as he walks away. Before Eddie can follow up with Matt's concerning final words, Junior starts rambling.

“Here, over here is your bed, obviously as it’s the empty one, and over here is mine, obviously. Um, I moved some things around, but you’re more than welcome to move anything around how you’d like, I mean, as long as, you know, you leave my side of things alone, unless you want this side, we- we can figure something out that works for both of us. Over there,” he turns to point at a door next to the one Eddie just entered through. “That- That’s the bathroom. It’s pretty nice, we have a tub, shower, sink, toilet, everything needed, and, uh,” Junior keeps rambling as Eddie slowly walks through the space.

It’s shockingly spacious. Once he passes the entryway, the place expands into a large, square room. This is nothing Eddie expected for a dorm. The full-sized beds are on opposite sides of the room with enough respective furniture for two people. Each side has its own bed, dresser, desk with a lamp and chair. Junior has a foldable, wooden divider next to his bed, blocking his bed from Eddie’s. On either side of the room were two archways leading into an extra individual area. Without being too nosy, Eddie could see that Junior’s side has a plant and a bookshelf. His side seemed a bit barren.

Eddie back glances at Junior’s side, finding it an odd mixture of neat and messy. The younger’s clothes were filling a dirty laundry hamper to the brim, but there was not a trace of anything on his floor. His mirror was squeaky clean, but his dresser had different, mismatched knickknacks littered over the top. His desk had papers spewed all over with multiple open books, but the chair was tucked in and pens, markers, and pencils were organized by color and size in a storage container. His bed wasn’t made, but he had shiny shoes neatly lined under the bed frame.

The rambling kid himself was set up in a similar fashion, his appearance is pristine, his white shirt tucked into ironed pants, shoes shined, necktie tightened and perfectly aligned, but man, the kid would not take a breath. “It’s nice to meet you.” Eddie interrupts whatever he was on about. Junior comes to a complete stop, turning to Eddie with raised brows.

“Sorry, I forgot my manners.” He shoots out a hand with his chin lifted high, back straight as a board in perfect posture. “Junior Shaw. It’s a pleasure to meet you, mister.” Eddie slowly reaches out to shake Junior’s hand. He raises a brow with a small smile.

“Shaw?” They shake hands for a bit too long due to Junior not knowing when to let go.

“Yeah… He’s my dad.” Junior tilts his chin down to hide his face. This is the first time Eddie notices the small horns growing atop his head, just barely peeking out in his thick dark hair. Eddie nods as his smile grows. “Oh.” Junior drops his hand. “Sorry.” The awkwardness of the kid makes Eddie’s heart swell. It’s oddly comforting. “Uh…” Junior trails, seemingly trying to fill the silence but not knowing what to say.

Eddie walks off, heading over to his side of the room. His eyes immediately land on the bed, seeing his new uniforms and his old suitcase. That was fast. He runs his fingers gently across the striped fabric. “Oh!” Junior says abruptly, grabbing Eddie’s attention. He turns to see Junior running to his dresser, picking something up, and turning to rush up to give it to Eddie. “Here.” He hands Eddie a small welcoming gift. It was a gift basket with some pens, pencils, notebooks, and other miscellaneous school supplies. On top of it all was a purple card with gold writing on it. ‘Welcome, Edward!’ it read, causing Eddie to bite back a small smile. “I know,” He raises a brow looking up from the basket to Junior. “It’s kind of cheesy, but my dad said giving you a welcome gift would make you feel more… welcome… yeah.” He says. Eddie gives him a kind smile.

“Thanks, kid.”

“Welcome.” He says before walking away to go to his desk and sit in the wooden chair. Eddie takes a seat on his bed, next to his uniforms, and places the welcome gift beside him on top of the neatly folded clothes. “So, uh…” Junior starts, “You’re kind of old…er… older. Older than the usual new students.” Eddie chuckles and nods.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just curious, is all. Sorry.”

“No worries. I’ve been getting it all day.” He tilts his head. “You know I’m not old. I’m only 19, going to be 20 this year.” Junior nods without looking up at him, instead focusing his eyes on the papers on his desk.

“That’s cool. My dad told me we’re taking in more students, probably opening up a new department or something like that. So, how’d you end up here?” Junior asks absentmindedly. The question takes Eddie off guard a little. What is he supposed to say? He turned into a monster and attacked his uncle after dying in battle in an alternate dimension. Would that make sense even here? Junior takes Eddie’s elongated silence as a sign. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to tell. Told you, I’m just curious, probably too much for my own good.”

“I… acquired some new… powers?” Eddie thinks of how to word an explanation without going too in depth. “So, I got sent here to try and help… control them.”

“Oh, an Acquirer. That makes sense.” Eddie tilts his head in intrigue at the new title, but before Eddie can ask for clarification, Junior bombards him with some questions. “Have you looked at any of your classes yet, seen any clubs, you know, if you’re into that? Were you in any clubs or sports back when you were in your old school?”

“No,” he chuckles, “No sports. I’m not a sports guy.” Junior nods. “But I did have a club I was leading, called Hellfire.” Junior turns in his chair to look at Eddie with a curious look.

“Hellfire? What was it about?” Eddie’s eyes light up a bit, now that’s a question he loved to answer.

“Well, it was a mystical gathering of the most daring and creative minds.” Eddie began with a smirk and squinted eyes, enjoying the familiar innocent curiosity on the young boy’s face. “Creatures of all kinds, from all over would gather to travel together and fight great battles, solve fantastical mysteries, and establish their title as heroes.” Eddie says in a theatrical tone, drawing Junior’s interest. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head and looking down. “It was a club where I would host DND campaigns after school.” He smiled, reminiscing. Junior raises his brows and nods.

“Oh, I’ve heard about DND! Sounds a lot like Slayers, just minus the tabletop portion.” Eddie lifts his head to the smiling boy.

“Slayers, huh?’ Junior nods.

“Yeah, Dungeon Slayers Club, officially, but we just call it Slayers for short. It was kind of inspired by DND, but you know, we’re the actual ‘creatures’.” Junior explains. “It takes all the fun of DND and brings it into real life. We really train and fight and go on quests and everything. It’s really fun.” He beams.

“Is that the club with the emblems on their backs, the group of students out in that courtyard during lunch?” Junior’s brows raise.

“Yeah. I wasn’t there during lunch today. Usually, the lunch gatherings are just us hanging out during our break. The real club takes place after school.” Junior says matter-of-factly. “First official meetup of the season is tomorrow.” Eddie nods.

“Think I can come and check it out?” Junior's brows raise again, and his eyes go wide.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I mean, we’re always welcoming to new people, at least they were with me. I was the last person who joined, but, uh we’re not really the most popular group.” He rambles. “Slayers doesn’t really have the best reputation. It’s kind of…infamous? Most of the other students see us as a paranoid bunch of…well, losers, like end of the world preppers or stuck in the past people or whatever. I don’t know if you’d want to start yourself out by associating yourself with us. You- You may want to check out something else like the fencing team or- or something” He says bouncing his gaze around in one of his awkward antics.

“No,” Eddie stops him, “I want to check it out.” He says firmly. Junior, though a bit shocked, becomes excited.

“Oh Okay, well, tomorrow then, I can bring you with me to the club during lunch so you can meet some of the members and maybe we can get you to talk to the leader. They’re awesome.” Junior begins with a glint in his eye. “They’ve been heading Slayers for, like, the last four years, been in the club for even longer. They’re so cool, really.” He says seriously, nodding his head. “If the world ever did come to an end. They’re definitely someone you’d want on your side. They’re, like, really amazing. They can out fight and out smart anybody, I swear.” He nods in approval. Eddie smiles. I wonder if this is how they talk about me. I hope so. Junior turns back to the homework on his desk, “They’re a great leader. You’d like them, 100%.” He nods again.

Eddie and Junior sit in a comfortable silence, the loudest noise coming from Junior’s pencil against paper. Eddie stands after a minute or two and begins unpacking his things, organizing his half how he wants. “Do you usually study in silence, or is it just cause I’m here?” Eddie asks as he closes his last drawer and turns to look at the back of Junior.

“No, I usually work this way. Sorry if that’s weird, but- but don’t worry about me. If you want to play music or watch something, don’t worry about me.” He lifts a hand to wave dismissively. Eddie nods and walks away from the dresser.

“You know, I think I’m going to do a little exploring.” Eddie announces as he heads to the door. Junior lifts his head.

“Oh, do you want me to come with? I could help show you around.” He offers, but Eddie shakes his head with a wave of his hand.

“No, just continue with your work. I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna wonder and get familiar.” Eddie says with a small smile. “Be back later, kid.” He turns to leave without another word.

As soon as Eddie is outside of the dorm building, he decides to just pick a direction and start walking. He walks around the campus, again getting some looks from passing students as he’s the only one out of uniform. He leisurely wanders around, eventually stopping in an outdoor hallway that surrounds a small courtyard in the middle of one of the buildings. As he stands there, he stares at a familiar stranger’s face.

You were sitting at the end of a wooden bench at one of the picnic tables. In front of you, sat on top of the table was a boy with ivory skin and brown, fluffy, curly hair. He was slim but obviously muscular and had a killer smile that you couldn't help but return. Sat beside you was the same onlooker he saw earlier, the one who stood beside the boulder at lunch.

She seemed a bit more relaxed and was leaning on her elbows that were rested on the table in front of her. Her brown waves were loose from their little ponytail and now let down, cropped at her shoulders. She was also looking up at the boy who was talking, quite animated, about something Eddie couldn't quite hear.

Though you didn't know of his existence and he had never spoken a word to you, Eddie couldn’t help but admire your smile. It was easy to get distracted by you. Aside from being a total warrior badass, you were simply gorgeous. The shine in your eyes, the way the world around you brightens with your smile, the curves of your nose, the creases of your face as it contorts with laughter. This is the leader of the ‘infamous' ‘loser’ club? It was confusing. Eddie couldn't comprehend how anyone could not like whatever had your stamp of approval. You and your personality screamed positively infectious and contagious. It was plain to see. Even from a distance, Junior’s fanboying over you made total sense.

Eddie stood in the shadows of the hall just watching you and your interactions with your friends. He couldn't help but feel a bit envious. Abruptly he winces, flinching at the all too familiar feeling in his brain.

The sharp migraines he'd gotten ever since waking up in that place have started to dull, feeling more akin to an unreachable itch or a fuzzy static. He didn't know if the pain was weaker or if he was just building a tolerance. Eddie sighs, opening his eyes to see you and your friends standing and collecting your things. Before any of you can notice his presence, he takes his leave, disappearing out of the courtyard corridors and closing in on a new found back exit off campus.

Eddie walks along the road that leads up to the campus before he makes his way into the wooded area that lines the pavement. Once he feels he's gone far enough, the buzzing itch returns. He groans, annoyed at the feeling.

He knows he's alone out here, but he can't help himself from looking around him to see if anyone is watching. Once he decides the coast is clear, he kneels down, closes his eyes, and takes a few deep breaths, slowing his heart rate. He reaches a hand out and rests it on the massive trunk of the fallen tree he'd stopped in front of. He takes deep breaths during the entire exchange, feeling the wood beneath his fingers shift.

The feeling of a numb rush floods his veins as the headache dissipates. He knows that means he's done right. He opens his eyes, seeing the newly opened glowing gate. Again, he looks around him before looking back at the portal. Every time he opens a new door between worlds, that area in the back of his brain tells him he's done something right, but his heart still makes him feel like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, constantly scared he's going to get caught doing something he's not supposed to.

One of these new found powers of his was the ability to open passages from this world to the other. At first, it felt wrong. There were so many bad memories there, but he'd always felt compelled to open these doors. Now, it's more so akin to a guilty pleasure, something he knows he shouldn't enjoy, but he can't resist. It calls to him. Plus if Vecna is dead, what is so wrong about it?

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[eksvaized]

[ Previous ┃ Next ] part 12

Two weeks ago, just as Simon’s break ended, and he was preparing to leave for a mission, he asked you to be his girlfriend. The question took you by surprise, which is why at first you were hesitant to answer it. It felt like everything was moving too fast. So you tried to construct a list of reasons why you shouldn’t date him. However, you weren’t able to come up with any.

The truth was, you liked Simon. A lot. You weren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet, but deep down you knew that your feelings for him stretched out beyond friendship. Slowly, but surely, you were falling in love with him. And even though you wouldn’t dare to utter those three words out loud yet, they were tucked away in the deepest corners of your heart.

Simon was there for you when Matt started ignoring you and then left the city without saying goodbye. You learned about Matt’s departure from a series of posts on his social media. Although you tried not to care, it still hurt to know that one of the three people in your life could disappear without bothering to even send you one stupid message.

Simon was also by your side when you cried for what seemed like countless hours, when Mindy and Liz continued to ostracise you. Two people who once were your close friends, your only friends, as a matter of fact, stopped taking your calls and responding to your texts. If you happened to bump into them on the street, they would pretend not to hear you calling their names. And even when you once managed to corner Liz, she had an excuse ready and left you after a conversation that lasted exactly thirty seconds.

Once, when you wanted to drink until the pain subsided because you were sick of crying and feeling miserable, you forced Simon to go to a club with you. There you ran into Mindy and Liz. For a brief moment, it seemed as though they were not going to flee and would like to talk with you. But as soon as their eyes settled on Simon, they vanished.

Later Simon confessed that on the night your paths crossed at the club, and you saw him for the second time, Mandy couldn’t keep her hands off him. He said he tried to gently turn her down, but she refused to leave him alone. This revelation led you to a painful realisation that Mindy was jealous, and this jealousy drove her to distance herself from you. On top of that, she ensured Liz abandoned you as well.

You felt hurt, unable to comprehend why they couldn’t just be happy for you. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but you ultimately decided that if they no longer wanted to be friends, perhaps it was for the best. After all, you now had Simon by your side, and you didn’t need anyone else.

The first two months of your relationship with Simon were nothing short of spectacular. You found yourself in his company nearly every single day. He often surprised you with fancy dates to the most exquisite places. Whenever you were upset, he could immediately sense the shift in your emotions, and was ready to do anything it took to ease your distress. If he had to move mountains to keep you happy and smiling, he would do so without a question.

However, the picture-perfect fairytale you were living in was slightly dampened when he mentioned he was going to be away for two weeks. As a lieutenant and a skilled soldier, you knew he would eventually have to return to work, even if he didn’t talk about it much. Yet, you weren’t prepared for the wave of loneliness that would wash over you once he left for a mission.

You texted him every day, letting him know how your day was. Occasionally, if you were lucky, and if Simon had a minute or two to spare, he would call you. The conversations were always hurried and short. But that didn’t matter because you got to hear his voice, you got to hear him say how much he missed you, and how he couldn’t wait to come home and see you, kiss you, and be with you.

You never realised that falling in love could be so effortless. It was the first time you were in a relationship where there were no fights, no pointless arguments, or useless bickering. Loving Simon was easy. However, the enormous distance that separated you two was a constant thorn in your side. It made you ache for his presence, yearning to feel the warmth of his touch against your skin.

Each night before falling asleep, you would think of him. Your mind would wander to the nights you spent together, remembering how his fingers would delicately trace patterns on your back. His sweet whispers in your ear were like a lullaby, serenading you until dreams took over.

But all of that is in the past now. Two weeks had gone by and he was coming home tomorrow. You wanted to do something special, so you decided to cook him dinner as a surprise.

Before Simon left, you spent practically every day at his house. He wouldn’t tell you, but he preferred staying at his home rather than yours. You, on the other hand, didn’t care which bed you slept in as long as you were together. Because of this, you had the key to his place. He had left you it for emergencies. But you haven’t used the key once, and over time it found its way into a glass bowl on the kitchen counter, amongst other trinkets, where it was accumulating dust until now.

The next morning, you woke up early, took a long shower and headed straight to the store because you knew Simon’s fridge was going to be empty. By the time you finally got to Simon’s house, it was already noon. If he wasn’t lying about the time he was coming home, and if your calculations were correct, you had plenty of time to plan your surprise and cook a delicious meal. The last time you ventured into the kitchen, things hadn’t gone exactly as planned. In fact, it had been a disaster. But this time it would be different, you assured yourself.

But as you started cooking, you suddenly came to the realisation that you had forgotten to buy wine. Simon had a bottle of whisky stowed away, unopened, and gathering dust in the back of the fridge. However, you disliked the bitter taste of it, and it wouldn’t pair well with the meal you were making. Plus, you preferred wine, so after glancing at the clock on the wall, you saw that you still had enough time to run to the shop.

The table in the dining room was set. Everything was almost ready, which is why you decided you needed to leave a note for Simon, in case he returned earlier than expected, while you are still out. Looking around, you tried to find a piece of paper and a pen. Your eyes scanned each room, but unless you wanted to rip a page out of some book or write by dipping the tip of the knife in the sauce, you found nothing.

You were walking back to the kitchen when your gaze fell on the door, which led to Simon’s office. Usually, that room was locked. The first time you stayed for a night here, the curiosity had got the better of you and asked what kind of secrets he kept hidden in there. Simon laughed and rolled his eyes, saying that the room contained shelves filled with sensitive and classified military files, which he preferred to keep under lock.

You respected his privacy, and unless he allowed you to go in there, you generally avoided his office. But now, you needed a pen and paper, and you will surely find what you require there. Hesitantly, you walked towards the door. Your fingers wrapped around the metal handle — honestly, you were expecting it to be locked, because it always was — but as you pushed the door, it creaked and swung open.

The moment you stepped into the room, a feeling of guilt settled upon your shoulders, clinging to your conscience and reminding you that you shouldn’t be in here. You tried to shake it off, repeatedly reassuring yourself that once you get what you need, you will leave. In the silent room, after you found a black pen and a piece of paper, you scribbled a quick note, adding a pair of little hearts to the corner.

Just as you were stepping out into the hallway, your eyes inexplicably found themselves drawn towards the corner of the room. Nestled among a few black folders on the tall shelf was a box that caught your attention. You weren’t sure why it stirred such curiosity within you, but it did. A quiet voice in the back of your head told you to leave it alone — you had no right to look inside. But instead of heeding your gut feeling, you grabbed the box and sat down at the desk.

After removing the lid, you felt perplexed. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to find, but it definitely wasn’t a random assortment of items that resembled a heap of insignificant trinkets and rubbish. However, then your eyes settled on the flower that lay atop the clutter. You picked it up. Upon closer inspection, you recognised it as the very same flower you had made out of the napkin at the club. You thought it was sweet that Simon kept it. You were aware of his softer side, but you never considered him to be sentimental.

You continued looking through it, now eager to discover what else you could find.

You spotted a receipt. Its edges were crumpled, and the ink was faded, but you still could make out the letters and some numbers. As you examined it, seeing what was bought and on which day, you realised Simon had kept this after the first time he met you, and saved you from embarrassment by paying for your coffee.

There was also a notebook. You flipped through the pages, but nothing made any sense to you. The pages were filled with a random mix of vaguely familiar addresses and a hand-drawn calendar with some things scribbled in it. You were about to close the notebook and throw it to the side, but then you spotted your name. Under it was a meticulously compiled bullet point list of various facts about you. Okay, that was a little strange, perhaps even slightly unsettling, but nothing too out of the ordinary. You attempted to reassure yourself by trying to rationalise what you were seeing. Maybe Simon just liked to keep track of things.

However, the more you looked at the contents inside the box, the more disturbed you became.

You pulled out a crimson fabric and after letting it unfurl in between your fingers; you realised that these wear your panties. As if touched by cold frost, a sudden chill shot down your spine, causing you to nervously gulp and swallow hard. Instead of methodically going through the box and ensuring you memorised the location of each item so you could put everything back together exactly as it was, you began rifling through things quickly and haphazardly.

You discovered a few random keys and a stack of neatly arranged photographs. You picked them up to get a better look, but when you comprehended what you were looking at, they slid out of your fingers and scattered all over the floor. These were very promiscuous pictures of Mindy. A wave of nausea washed over you, forcing you to close your eyes and take a deep breath. And only one thought was echoing in your mind: has Simon taken these?

This all made no sense to you. But the longer you stayed glued to the ground, gripping onto the edge of the desk so hard that your knuckles turned white, the more questions began to surface in your head, causing havoc within you. Was Simon some kind of creep, a pervert who won your trust and blinded you with his lies? The evidence seemed to suggest that, but the very thought was unnerving.

And then there were pictures of Mindy, impossible to ignore, and which were a testament to his hidden obsession. Why did he have those images? You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the reason Mindy started avoiding you. Was Simon holding these over her head?

You also found a phone. Despite the web of cracks on the screen, it had a full battery and no password. As you scrolled through the address book and old conversations, trying to determine the owner, it dawned on you — this was Matt’s. There was no doubt about it. Your number was there, along with the messages he had sent to you. Another wave of sickness washed over you, making your vision blur.

You were on the verge of fainting. Your heart was pounding violently against your ribcage like a drum. Each beat echoing in your ears. Every muscle in your body screamed in protest as you extended your trembling hand towards the box and took the last item out of it. You brought the glass jar close to your face. In it were teeth – human teeth. An icy chill ran down your spine, causing you to gag as your body recoiled.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon wasn’t the man you believed him to be. The man you thought you knew was a stranger to you now. There was a storm brewing inside you, a sea of emotions waiting to spill. All you wanted to do was slow down and try to comprehend everything, but you had no time to do that. Before Simon came home, you needed to get out of this house. If he will find you here, in his office, standing by the desk looking at the open box, he might... You shook your head. The fear was swallowing you, but you refused to think of it and instead began to act. In haste, you scooped all the pictures up from the floor and carelessly put everything else back in the box, which you then placed back on the shelf.

You ran out of the office and back to the kitchen. You didn’t stop to wash the dirty dishes in the sink nor you wasted a second to clean up the dining room. With shaking hands, you started gathering all your stuff. But just as you leaned over the counter and grabbed the phone, you heard the front door open. Your blood turned to ice, and you froze. Your pupils dilated in fear, reflecting the terror that gripped you, and a rush of panic surged through your veins.

Simon.

“Y/N?” His weary voice reverberated through the house.

Paralyzed by fear, all you wanted to do was scream and run, but the eerie sounds of the footsteps coming towards the kitchen held you in place. Your body, rigid and immovable, refused to heed the desperate pleas of your mind. Your back was pressed against the rough counter’s edge. You could feel it digging into your flesh. Your phone was in your trembling hand, and your eyes, wide with terror, were fixed on the doorway, unable to look away.

You found yourself cornered, with no other choice but to face him. The window of opportunity to flee had closed. Now, all you could do was to act normal, to pretend that everything was just as it should be. Then, when an opportunity presents itself, you will seize it and get out of this house, slipping away from Simon’s grasp.

Simon entered the kitchen.

“Hey,” the corners of your lips tugged upwards. A faint smile appeared on your face. You chose to speak in short, clipped sentences, afraid that the longer ones might trip you up, cause you to stutter and betray your anxiety. “I hoped to surprise you. But... but you came home early.”

“Surprise me?” He asked, creasing his brow in confusion. His eyes then drifted over to the sink, and he noticed a tower of dishes in it.

“I made a dinner.”

Your fingers fiddled with the phone, a futile attempt to keep your trembling hands under control. A fleeting thought crossed your mind - you should call the police. The mere idea of seeking help was like a beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness. But as soon as you unlocked your phone, Simon approached you. Instinctively, your first reaction was to jerk away from him. However, you forced yourself to stay still and pushed your phone back into your jeans’ back pocket.

“Mind if I take a quick shower first? And perhaps change out of these grimy clothes before we sit down to eat, okay?” He spoke softly as he closed the gap between your bodies. You could feel the warmth of his breath caressing your skin. He dipped his head, and his lips brushed over yours.

Despite the shortness of the kiss, you felt your muscles tighten. His touch, once a source of comfort, now left you reeling, dizzy, but not in the intoxicating way it used to.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, his voice laced with concern. You could feel his fingers gliding down your arms before he placed his hand on the back of your waist.

Fuck. You realised you weren’t doing a good enough job of acting like the loving girlfriend you were supposed to be.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. You mustered a faint smile, hoping it would conceal the turmoil you felt inside. In an attempt to distract yourself, you took a step back, retreating towards the sink and turned on the water. You hoped washing the dishes would help you to mask your quivering fingers. “Just had a hard day at work. That’s all.”

Your rather feeble excuse seemed to work, and he bought it. The conversation continued to drag on for a bit longer. He promised that as soon as he cleans himself up, he will help you to take your mind off it all. You nodded, perhaps a tad too eagerly, desperate to have him leave you alone.

“Just go,” you found yourself saying, more out of urgency than anything else, when he continued to linger idly in the kitchen. You felt his eyes glued to your back. His gaze made you want to curl up, which is why you instead focused on the feeling of warm water running through your fingers. “We don’t want to eat a cold dinner,” you added, after realising that you might not be doing a great job at masking your restlessness.

He looked at you with an expression of mild confusion. His eyes swept over the side of your face as if he was trying to read your mind. But after a moment, he gave you a nod and ventured out of the kitchen.

For what seemed like an eternity, but it was only a minute, you remained completely still. Your feet were rooted to the cold tiles, and every muscle in your body was taut with tension. You didn’t dare to move; the breath getting stuck in your lungs until you heard the bathroom door open. After it closed, without a moment of hesitation, you raced towards the front door.

“I have to run to a shop real quick,” you called out, your voice echoing in the hallway. You were already halfway into your shoes, your fingers fumbling with the laces in your haste. You prayed that this excuse would buy you time, and he wouldn’t question why you were leaving. There was a slight tremor in your voice, a hint of fear that threatened to swallow your body, but you pushed it down, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on it. “I...I forgot to buy the wine.”

You opened the door, and an icy gust of wind swept over your body. You could feel the cold seeping into your bones, making you shiver. But before you could take a single step and go outside, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, with everything around you spinning and blurring together. A shaky breath escaped you after your lips parted, and then your surroundings began to fade, as if they were being swallowed by an all-consuming darkness. And then there was nothing but absolute blackness. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed in the hallway. Just before your consciousness slipped away, you heard the front door shut.

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 12: The Headstone

Thanks for all the love so far!! We still have a ways to go before the story is over 😉

32 Days before Competition

The headstone read Here Lies Oleanna Archeron. 

No In Loving Memory. 

Not a trace of Rest in Peace. 

And certainly not Always in Our Hearts. 

Just a name. 

Mama’s name. 

Elain remembered the day Mama died so clearly. She had fallen ill with pneumonia one winter, and was bedridden up until the day she passed. Feyre and Nesta had been at the doorway while Elain knelt by Mama’s bedside, tears clinging to her lashes. Nesta was the one to pry Elain out of the room five hours later. 

Elain had wanted a detailed engraving on the headstone, but she was outnumbered by her sisters and forced to concede. Even someone like Mama should be remembered and honored in death, Elain had defended. Her two sisters didn’t think so, and were fully content to not purchase a headstone at all had Elain’s sobs not convinced them otherwise. 

Alone in the cemetery, she knelt down on the grass before the stone, placed the single flower at the base, and took a breath. “Hi Mama. It’s Elain.”

It was silly to introduce herself each time she visited, every three months like clockwork, because she was the only one who ever showed up. Nesta and Feyre hadn’t set foot in the cemetery since the headstone was placed in the ground. She doubted they ever would. Not even so Mama could meet her only grandchild. Maybe she would have been a better grandparent than she was a parent. 

“I know you probably wouldn’t care to know this, but I’ve been doing okay.” 

Mama was never big on feelings, unless those feelings were shame, anger, and disappointment. In all of Elain's life, Oleanna smiled only a handful of times. None of those times were at her. Shrugging it off only worked temporarily, before Elain had made it her life’s mission to bring a smile to Mama’s usually impassive face. 

“Feyre and Nesta are doing well,” Elain chirped, eyes bright as she gushed about her sisters. Nevermind the fact that they weren’t as secure in their relationship as other siblings. Elain’s heart still swelled with pride at their achievements. “They’re still painting and dancing and there's no signs either of them are slowing down anytime soon. You’d be proud of them.”

She always had been. Feyre and Nesta, her pride and joy, though she was still capable of treating them harshly, too. Not quite to the extent Elain experienced, but enough to where Mama’s death brought them relief, not pain. Had Mama even known the hatred Feyre and Nesta held in their hearts? Would she have cared? There was no way to find out now. 

“I’m still skating,” She confirmed with a half hearted chuckle, arms splayed wide before they dropped to her thighs. She said a bit softer, “Just like you wanted.” 

If Elain wanted her Mama to be proud of one thing, it was how she hadn’t given up. Despite failures and hardships and insults, she persevered. She hoped that counted for something.

“The competition is coming up in a few weeks,” Elain revealed, fingers running through the soft grass at the base of the headstone. “I’m kind of…excited. I think. My emotions have been all over the place. At first, Lucien dropped out of the competition, and I went from angry to hurt to panicking in the span of three hours. Come to find out weeks later, he didn’t drop out at all. He was scheming this entire time, Mama. He has a new partner.” 

That was as much as she’d say about her ex-partner, not wanting to dwell on it. There was no reason to waste her energy on rehashing the betrayal. In the end, it appeared she was better off without him. But nonetheless, it was news that Mama would have wanted to know. Anything pertaining to the world of skating, Elain was sure to tell her. 

“My new partner is named Azriel,” Elain whispered, lips twitching as images of him came to mind. “He skated with Morrigan for a while, remember? I didn’t want to disappoint you this year by pulling out of the competition, so I did something brave and asked him to be my partner. We’ve been practicing for a few weeks now, testing our chemistry, rehearsing basic sequences, adding new spins and small lifts and it’s…refreshing. Skating with him feels natural. Although, you probably wouldn’t like him very much,” Elain said, twirling her finger around a blade of grass. “Everything he tells me is the opposite of what you’ve told me.” 

Responsibility versus enjoyment. 

Social isolation versus connection.

Consistent, grueling practices versus necessary breaks. 

No, Mama most certainly would not have tolerated Azriel’s way of thinking. Elain herself was still growing accustomed to it. 

“The word fun wasn’t in your vocabulary, but it sure is in his,” Elain continued, letting a tear drip off her nose. “He’s trying to convince me to let loose every now and then. Sometimes I don’t even know what that feels like anymore. It seems impossible to achieve but he’s persistent and I–I don’t know. I think I want to entertain the idea that I should let myself smile and laugh and not take things so seriously.” 

She outwardly cringed then, picturing Mama’s objection. 

“But I know that's not what you’d want from me,” She said hoarsely, scrubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “So I’m going to try my best to be everything you wanted me to be. I’m going to focus my time and energy on skating, on bringing home the gold, and I’m going to do it for you, Mama.” 

A pause. 

A deep breath. 

And then, “That’ll be the easy part,” she swallowed, stroking the petal of the flower she’d brought. “The hard part will be pretending that I’m not falling for him. Because honestly Mama, he’s the kind of man who is so easy to love. I’m not…there yet, but…” The words drifted off in the wind. She couldn’t say the rest out loud. Not yet. 

Elain stood from the ground, not bothering to brush the rest of the tears from her cheeks or dirt from her knees. She hoped that if Azriel’s words somehow had enough influence on her…that if she grew into someone Mama disapproved of…if she sought out a skating partner and ended with a lover…that she would be forgiven in time. 

With a kiss to the headstone, Elain murmured, “Goodbye, Mama. This is the year I’ll make you proud.” 

Artwork by @chachachai17: Here

Divider: @saradika-graphics

[via-the-ghoul]

A Hanging Dying dream forever repeating

AKA: the Via-Verse’s version of Alagadda’s origin.

After working off and on on this for months and debating whether or not I should post it, it’s finally, finally here! This takes some elements from other tales, but I made it my own lol.

Anyways, TW: mind-altering, body horror, death by childbirth, heavy usage of blood, emotional child abuse, plague (which has descriptions of killing people), religious themes, child abandonment, mild gore, medical themes, suicide by hanging, slit throats, and someone snaps their own neck at one point, a knife’s briefly mentioned, cosmic horror, chains, brief mentions of drinking, someone plays with another person’s trauma in an attempt to manipulate them.

Sorry about the long list of TWs, but it’s just text, no pictures.

Anyways, here we go! (The document this is saved on is 12 pages long what is wrong with me lol)

Have you ever heard of Alagadda? Probably not, most haven’t these days. It was a kingdom long ago, before it became something else at the cost of memory. Do you wish to know what happened? …Good.

It all started as most stories do: before anything noteworthily weird happened. There was a king, there was a queen, she was pregnant, they loved each other very much, and the kingdom loved them. Nothing that made it seem too different from most kingdoms.

Except, of course, for one thing. The king had a certain secret, one that would hand the ink and pen to the hands of fate for Alagadda.

He had a love for forbidden magics. His nights spent at the Wanderer’s Library, writing the names of Gods and various sights across the sea of universes. Eventually, the Way he used just closed up, but that didn’t matter. He already had what he needed to grant his greatest wish.

Dyo’s surroundings felt like a dream to him. A faint memory of a dream from centuries back, that was what this was. He knew he wasn’t in Alagadda anymore, and he felt off. Was this fear, or bewilderment? And what were these colors? And why wasn’t this entirely unfamiliar?

He could hear birds chirping somewhere on his left. Why was the sound’s location so clear? And what kind of birds were these, with a song so beautiful and clear, something he could sing along to if he possessed vocal chords?

What was this strange, new, beautiful world? The sky above him, it was blue? Was that the word for it? Why did he know the word?

Gosh, if only he still had his body. Then he could investigate this strange new world he was thrown into. See the birds. Maybe sing.

The king wished that him, his queen, and his future child would live forever. The kingdom loved them, and he loved his queen, so there was no problem he could think of. Plus he had a common trait to most mortals: thantophobia. He was a strange man driven by fear. Not very strange, actually, when comparing him to others.

He whispered into the abyss, and three brothers answered. The youngest draped in darkness, his pale face standing out with a sliver grin. The middle a strange mismash of armor and arms, dust and clutter. The eldest of pale colors, faced in pure shadows and towering over the night sky. Three ways to die. A deal was made, a game of cards for immortality.

He fought for this immortality, he really did. He was able to top the two younger. But the eldest defeated him, far, far too easily, crushing the built up hope. And then they returned to the shadows without a word, leaving him alone.

The queen gave birth three days later. The child survived, but she faded away. The child didn’t cry, covered in their mother’s blood. The king didn’t understand why, and did not hold the child. So they remained, wrapped in dark clothes by the midwife, for someone else to take care of.

Time seemed to return to a familiar melding for Dyo. He couldn’t tell how many hours it took before the sun began to set. He knew that soon, a familiar night would appear. He felt strangely sad, he rather liked this new day. But he couldn’t really hear the birds anymore, and he was rather tired of being stuck in one place. Perhaps something familiar would help this horrid wait for some poor soul to come across him.

However, a new sound came from his right. Faint, but approaching. He had heard variations of this sound back home, and it sometimes appeared in this new daytime, but never was the crushing of leaves back home, and never was it approaching him here.

Footsteps. The stepper was probably wearing boots, from the sound of it. He honestly couldn’t wait, he really wanted to move around this new world. See the birds. He wondered what new colors they would be.

The footsteps got closer and closer, until finally a shadow covered Dyo. He could feel himself smiling. He never smiled back home. He could get used to this new world. He felt a gloved hand grab him, and hold it up to the mysterious face of the new being. The face…

It was probably the most horrific face Dyo had ever seen.

The plague came after that. Sores spotted the people of the kingdom, blood and bile coming from screeching mouths. The screams of the people echoing in the streets for years. The inescapable smell of death. But the king never heard them, never smelled rot or tasted bile.

The king had hidden deep in his castle, sobbing, mourning his queen, and only his queen for all those years. Unaware of the state of his people. He had put the lords in charge of it all, the kingdom and his child. His child…

His child grew strange. They were quiet, and rarely smiled, but weren't mean. They did try to help the people, as much as a child could. Sometimes, when there was no hope that someone would survive, they would sit by their side until they fell, no matter how the doctors warned against it. Strangely, the child never grew ill themself. Despite most people accepting the child, there were… rumors about the kid. Whispers of being the devil’s child and witchcraft, which the child somewhat heard. They didn’t believe it, but… it explained why their father never played with them like other fathers did.

10 years after it all, the king finally listened, having returned from his sorrows. He heard the screams. He saw the blood, and he saw the corpses. But he didn’t blame himself, no.

He blamed the child. He accused them of not being his child, of having been a spirit possessing them sent by the brothers to torment him, bringing the plague with them wherever they went. A monster that must have killed the real child.

The child didn’t understand. They had never met their father before this, but they heard they weren’t supposed to do this. They were supposed to love their children. That was what they saw with the fathers in the street. Was this why he never showed himself? Were they really a monster? A fake? Were those whispers right?

The king ordered the child to be locked away in their room, and never let out. Proclaimed them to be a contamination spreading monster. Some believed and some didn’t, but the ones that didn’t didn’t do anything to stop it.

Perhaps they were supposed to be locked away, perhaps there was something wrong with them. That was what they wondered, anyway. Their father hid away from them for so long, after all. Perhaps this was the reason. Perhaps they were born of dust and shadows, their mother unable to bear the beast she created. Perhaps everyone was right, perhaps they doomed the townsfolk they loved by existing.

The child began to cry.

There was something completely off about the figure’s face. It had the same mask-face as the people back home, but there was something off about its construction. The mask felt too organic, the yellow eyes uncovered, sunken deep in its head. Too expressive, too wrong, that was the eyes. It’s eyes, something changed in Dyo upon seeing the creature’s eyes.

Memories began to appear in his head, of long before, of a state of wakefulness, of trees and blue birds, and colors! So many forgotten colors, bright orange paints like the sky when the sun rose, the green grass and trees he could get lost in, a blue sky, a blue sky! And purple, purple was his closest friend’s favorite.

His childhood friend. The king’s child. By the stars, the king had a child! Why couldn’t he remember more about this lost child?! What happened to them?

Dyo didn’t see the strangely beautiful abomination for long, as it wordlessly put it in a dark brown bag. Brown, he could remember the color of tree trunks and dying leaves and the child’s eyes. The child…

Though now he was in darkness, he could tell the entity would let him out sooner or later, it had too. Perhaps there were more wonderful joys he had forgotten that the entity would show him. Though, why weren’t all these joys back home? Why were they hidden away? And what happened to his friend…

The king tried again the next morning. He knew he may not be able to resurrect his wife, or his child, but he was willing to try to give himself immortality again. Not with the brothers, of course. He simply called into the void, hoping someone, anyone would answer.

Something did come out, draped in dark robes and with a hidden face behind bandages, if it even had a face. They called themself an ambassador of a faceless being. They promised the king much more than immortality. They said they could make the king a God. A God… a God could bring back his wife and child. A God would never die. He could have it all, as long as he did what the thing said. The king smiled for the first time in ten years.

Meanwhile, our child looked out their window. A small wave to a boy their age they got along with, but the boy didn’t see. Perhaps the boy would forget about them. And they’d be up here forever. If they weren't such a clever child, perhaps they would try to jump out the open window. Alas, the child didn’t wish to die. Maybe not wanting to sacrifice themselves for the kingdom was part of being a monster. Not wanting to kill the twisted, sick devil that cursed the town-

It was at that time a crow landed at the window. The child liked crows, even though their father didn’t, as they were always nearby when they went to visit their mother’s grave, back before the tower. It was strangely comforting to them. So the child then took a piece of lavender from their shelf. It died when they plucked it, and it was rotting, being here for years, but the child didn’t care. They placed the lavender in front of the crow, and it picked it up. It almost seemed to smile before flying off. The child felt better. Maybe they were not a monster. Crows seemed more trustworthy than the king anyway.

Time was melding again in the bag. Or perhaps it was Dyo not liking the dark. It felt like he was floating in the darkest void, where no one could hear him scream, even if he had the vocal cords necessary. Gosh, perhaps the entity would give Dyo a body so he could actually talk!

A sudden blast of light and another gloved hand later, he was out of the bag. Apparently the entity lived in some sort of cave. He could make out some sort of cloth in the background. He didn’t know why, but Dyo figured it was called a blanket. People… slept on blankets. They never slept back in Allagadda.

He saw a table with another cloth on it, this one not a blanket for sleep. It was soaked in red blood. Medical cloth. This was a doctor of some sort. The entity placed him on said table, laying on the cave’s wall. The blood was dry, but the blanket was somewhat wet. Attempts of cleaning blood that never really worked. The doctor stared at him, before staying one sentence, in a dark, echoey voice.

“I know you are alive.”

Three years passed, and the kingdom grew strange. The king started to paint over anything that wasn’t black, white, yellow, or red. His favorite colors. More people started to wear masks, masquerade masks, forever. No one seemed to question any of this, and just went along.

The child meanwhile, disappeared. They had attempted escape twice before, and the lack of fighting back once they were caught again made them think escape wouldn’t be much of an issue. As the plague had been fading out, the king simply assumed they returned to the darkness they came from. This is not what happened, they merely escaped, without anyone noticing this time. Though some suspicion was casted on the new young court jester, theories they let out the kid, nothing ever came of it.

The child had grabbed a mask and ran off with it. No one was to see their face, no one was to know who they were. They cut their hair and changed their name. They ran to the town doctor, and claimed to be an orphan child seeking apprenticeship. The doctor took pity on the kid, and took them in. No one realized who they really were. No one claimed them a child of the devil, or a witch.

Dyo wished he could respond to this, he really could. He really wished that he and the entity could have spoken this whole time, about the sky, and the birds, and all these questions that were in his metaphorical brain. But he had no host, and he couldn’t look into this thing’s mind. Maybe he was still getting used to this dimension? He simply frowned. The entity tilted his head a bit.

“Huh, I thought you could still speak in this state. I must have overestimated you, my apologies. Hold on.” The entity picked him up again, and flipped Dyo around. Now they could only see the cave wall. The entity better have a good explanation for this when he actually gets a body.

He could still hear, however. He could hear the bag opening, tools being taken out, as well as something soft. Sewing, wet tearing sounds, soft fleshy noises? How did he not feel any of those in the bag!? And why did the entity think he wouldn’t want to see this over a boring old cave wall?

After what seemed like hours, he was flipped back around to see the entity’s crude creation. Flesh draped over bones, a tear in the “face” to simulate a mouth, bulging eyes and no hair. A small mannikin of flesh.

“I could have done better, but you will just destroy it anyway. No use wasting more spare parts than necessary.” The entity sighed before placing Dyo over its face.

Finally, he was getting pretty bored.

The years went on. No one mentioned the king’s child anymore. It was getting harder to see any colors that weren’t the king’s favorite, even in the yellowing sky.

The people began to change as well. They seemed to be losing themselves, more and more thinking merely of parties and wine. It didn’t affect everyone, but most that weren’t inflicted ran to other kingdoms. Eventually, the only people not affected were the town doctor, and our child. Our child…

Our child wasn’t much of a child anymore, and despite having hid it so well, they never forgot their past. They could still be found laying the last bits of rotting lavender at the Queen’s grave. Sometimes, they’d talk to the crows, simple little greetings, but still.

You see, that one crow in the old prison, it would come back. The child would talk to it eventually, when they ran out of lavender. They were friends. Once, the crow even gave a piece of rotting lavender to the child. They never forgot that. They even took it with them when they escaped, though they had now lost that decaying flower. The child spoke better with crows than people since then.

Though one day, 20 years after the day the king first invoked the three brothers, it was time for the final step of the thing’s plan. No one could have guessed. No one but the king knew the thing. And the king was too entranced to question its word. No one could have guessed what it wanted.

“Thank you, you do not know how frustrating it is to need to talk but have no mouth! I am sincerely grateful-”

“Why are you here?”

“...Huh?”

“Why are you here and not… there?” The entity’s voice was cold and stern. Clearly not a fan of Alagadda.

“Oh, right, I was so ungratefully thrown out of my home for daring to be worried about my king, daring to question the ambassador, daring to care about my people!” Dyo was still, admitting, getting used to puppeting a body in this world, and this body didn’t have all the necessary parts to move, but he tried dramatically throwing his hand to his face and his other hand where his heart would be. The intent could probably be read however, judging by the entity’s reaction.

“Sounds about right. There is no care in that kingdom, no sense. The moment someone begins to fall out of line…”

“Not a fan huh?”

“Of course not! That kingdom is an artery in the body of the pestilence. It is filled with animal instincts, only chaos, consuming, destruction with no rhyme or reason, and that ambassador would not have it any other way.”

“...Have you been there before?” A potential way back. As much as he liked this new world, he did want to go back. He couldn’t get revenge without going back. The entity hesitated before giving their answer.

“Yes. I am waiting until I have made enough progress on my cure to retur-”

“How did you get there? Have some unfinished business I need to, well, finish.” The entity froze. Something about that question thawed away all that cold from the entity. In there, somewhere, was something afraid to lose him.

“You… Want to go back there? What could there be to justify entering that place again, when you have just begun to find yourself again?”

Dyo tilted the fleshy thing’s head, and paused.

They found the king in the middle of his court, hanging by a rope. But no one seemed to care. They simply threw him in the grave, not bothering to remove the rope or even bury him. He just laid there, as crows feasted on the body. Even the town doctor, so far unaffected by anything, found herself uncaring to the king. Her apprentice never really cared for the king at all anyway.

That night, however, they still couldn’t sleep. They still wondered what could have happened to prompt this, so they looked out the window. What if the king really did love them, and this was their fault? No, that couldn’t be the case. Perhaps they’d see a crow outside, something to ground them in reality.

However, they didn’t see that. Instead, they saw… something slowly moving, for walking or even stepping didn’t feel right, through the street, rope around their neck. They couldn’t make out a single other feature, but enough was enough, and they could read context clues, they were not sticking around any longer. The town was going mad, and the apprentice and the doctor could not do anything about it. They had to leave, they had to. They panicked, putting on their mask, before they ran downstairs in an attempt to get their superior out with them…

The doctor was dead. Simply lying there, throat slit. Knife next to her. Blood was everywhere around her. Far too much blood for this type of wound.

The apprentice was horrified, and ran outside. It didn’t matter how, they had to get out of here as quickly as possible, and never look back. They’d mourn later.

But as they ran, they heard something behind them. Something was chasing them, but that wasn’t what they heard. It must have been floating, as they could also hear faint sounds of wind. No, the apprentice heard the thing talk. The voice sounded like a wind chime, neutral and sing-song. The apprentice didn’t want to listen to what it was saying. It clearly had bad intentions.

“THIS IS MY KINGDOM NOW. ACCEPT YOUR DESTINY AND TURN AROUND.”

The apprentice just kept running, and running, and not turning back. This wasn’t a home anymore. They didn’t know anything about the thing, but they knew the thing didn’t have good intentions. They knew their kingdom wouldn’t be a good place to be. Especially with the blood they felt on the ground.

And they did it. They ran all the way out. Perhaps they were tired, perhaps they thought they were safe, but they looked back. They’d never been anywhere else before.

A chain wrapped around their torso. Knocking them down, pulling them back into the kingdom, back with that… thing.

“YOU FOOLISH, FOOLISH CREATURE. YOUR DYING BLOOD WILL FLOW TO THE HIDDEN ONE, AND YOU SOUL WILL ROT IN YOUR COT FOREVERMORE. NO ONE WILL REMEMBER YOU. IT IS YOUR PURPOSE.”

The apprentice was terrified, they really were, but they didn’t show it. They knew damn well that no matter where this was going, they would die. But they knew the thing wanted them to bleed as they died. So maybe, if they died bloodlessly, they’d be safe from the… thing. They didn’t know, but they didn’t want this thing to have their soul. If they were right, perhaps they’d be somewhere safe, far away from this thing. Perhaps their mom would be there. Their knowledge of anatomy left them with one real option now, even if they were scared to die. It was on their own terms, at least.

Before the apprentice could fully be dragged back into the town, they wrapped their shaking hands around their own neck, and turned it as hard as they could.

“...what do you mean by finding myself? I’ve always known myself!” Dyo smiled, trying to ignore how much he only remembered after waking up here. That didn’t mean he wasn’t the same old Dyo. The entity’s head tilted.

“Alagadda used to not be a dream-state pocket world. It was a kingdom here once, until the Ambassador appeared. He changed people into caricatures of themselves obsessed with the king. Take yourself, for instance.” Dyo wasn’t smiling anymore. He could remember it now, figments of what Alagadda was. Blue sky. Their friend, the king’s child, a child around his age at the time, who he was close with, but disappeared one day, and then everything was foggy.

“When I knew you, you loved theater so much. You were so happy, I remember your smile so well, even after all this time. You wanted to be an actor. You became the court jester instead, suddenly obsessed with the king. It took a toll on you. You were miserable the last time I saw you, and when we met again today, I assumed you were warped so much that you were just… gone.”

Dyo remembered a lot more as they said this. The theater. There was a theater, where no actors killed themselves at the end. Where dying in the play didn’t mean anything for you. He had wanted to be there, with the actors themselves. They seemed to be having so much fun, and he’d practice his silly little improvised monologues to his friend. His friend, his only friend at the time…

They still couldn’t remember who this entity was. Strange. Maybe if he played his cards right, he could get the entity to jog his memory…

“I missed you. I mourned you. I, I should stop. This is a lot to take in-”

“No, please continue. Who, who was I, to you?”

It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, it didn’t have to matter! The king doubted this kid even existed, they didn’t have to be in the kingdom. It wouldn’t affect the plan at all. They were entirely optional, and had willingly thrown away a chance at eternity. Strange. They did not accept the purpose of being locked away forever. So they left the child to rot away, feasted on by bugs and crows.

The king was hanging at their throne again, twitching, faint breaths, but no words. The three lords and the court jester each also hanged in a different corner of the court, each noose done too tight, blood dripping from their necks. The Ambassador held up a golden cup, and blood, all of the blood throughout the entire kingdom, flowed into it. The Ambassador went to the twitching, shaking king, who began to slowly reach for the figure.

“WITH THESE, THEIR BLOOD, IT IS THE HANGED KING’S.”

They held up the cup for the king, who held it himself. He held the cup behind his veil, to his small, rotting lips. He began to sip from the cup.

And then he dropped it.

“...We were close, very close.” The entity said. Dyo simply waited for them to continue, but they didn’t.

“...And…”

“My apologies. I tend not to dwell on the past, considering how warped the kingdom has become, so I tend not to talk about it. No one has heard of the kingdom anyway.”

“Heh. Strange that I can’t remember you though. Can you turn into a bird or something?” the entity let out the smallest of laughs.

“No, no, I just was successful in leaving my old life behind.”

In all fairness, Dyo wasn’t entirely honest anymore. His disappeared friend and this mysterious person claiming to have been his friend… it couldn’t entirely be a coincidence. But something felt… off. Something else happened. This wasn’t just an Alagaddan who left, something changed about them. Sure, there was no influence from the Ambassador, but there was something else Dyo couldn’t put a metaphorical finger on. Maybe if they played their cards right, he could get the figure to reveal it. Reveal if they could be friends again.

“Well then, what’s your new life like? This boring old cave doesn’t really jog the imagination, you know?” Maybe they’d give away a God or two with the details.

“I seek to cure the pestilence.”

“For anyone in particular?”

“Humanity.”

“...Why, though?”

“I believe that curing such a horrible ailment is simply the right thing to do, and it is why I am still here.”

Ok this wasn’t going anywhere. Why they are still here, though…

“What do you mean, why you’re still here? What happened to you?”

The hanged king was dead, the hanged king was alive. The kingdom was dead, the kingdom was alive. No one was truly dead, and the only one truly alive was the Ambassador, the real one in control. Everything was on repeat. Everyone would go through the motions of partying, drinking, forever and ever. The kingdom didn’t exist and it did exist. It was somewhere else. No one back on Earth remembered it.

Everyone would go through their motions, like a play, of sorts. Everyone had their roles to play. The lords walked with the people, and the king wrigged and withered chained on his throne, but the Ambassador was the one in charge. It was like a dream for them. Everyone only remembered what they wanted them to remember, and that didn’t include that child.

That child… the Ambassador barely thought about them. They were dead. They were dead, and they’d never know what the kingdom became. That was that.

The Ambassador was intelligent. They knew everything that had gone done in the walls of the kingdom, the many that entered, the few who’d left. They had trapped another goddess, one of the moon, in a cycle of trying to destroy the king, being attacked and almost killed by them, before returning to the sky to rest, before coming down again once per year. They even had found a use for the prison meant to contain that child, keeping the bird who’d betrayed the queen in there before repeating the cycle. They knew a lot.

But they were not entirely correct about that child.

“Whatever do you mean by that, Dyo?”

“It sounds like something should’ve killed you, but didn’t. Whatever happened-”

“Enough about me. I am afraid I have come across much more selfish than I truly am, I do not wish to dwell any more on me, let alone my past.”

“No, no. Tell me what happened. Now.” Dyo was getting impatient. This being clearly was hiding something. Dyo didn’t like when things were hidden. He needed to know it all.

“No.”

“I don’t think you know what’s really happened to me, do you? I… I am royalty these days! You better explain exactly who you are now!” Dyo forced the body up, and stared down the being. They didn’t look like much, muscle-wise.

“No.”

“You have no one, do you? That’s why you’re all alone here. No one would miss you if I were to-”

The entity ripped the mask right off the body, cutting Dyo off.

“I really let myself hope…” it said. Its eyes were filled with fire. But now, Dyo felt a bit more… comfortable here. He could speak in the entity’s mind.

“How rude. I bet if your father cared about you he’d be very disappointed.”

Dyo couldn’t really see where the entity was taking him, but that remark seemed to make them go faster. Seemed to, as they were rather slow either way.

“Why are you gripping me so hard? I thought we were friends!”

“We were, yes. You have made it clear that we are not now.” They did loosen up a bit though. Nice to know Dyo had found a way under their skin.

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“Yes, and I still do. Here we are.”

They were back in that field. A couple of dark birds flew off as they arrived. Maybe they were the same ones from before, maybe not.

The entity left him on the ground, face down, before beginning to leave. Dyo could not believe this rudeness!

“Hey, don’t leave me like this! At least let me see the stars!”

The entity didn’t respond.

It all started unlike how most stories do, with a young human snapping their own neck in a final act of defiance towards a God. Said God had then returned to their kingdom, but the human had woken up somewhere else.

Said somewhere wasn’t too different from the place they left, but there were more trees, and there was no kingdom. Or was there? It was very dark, the person couldn’t tell. Was this what death was like? They slowly got up, putting a hand on a tree. No reason to stay here all alone, when they could explore this strange world. …Until he heard a coo behind him.

Turning around, they saw someone. A crow. The person let out a small smile.

“Hello,” Said the human. After everything that happened that night, it was nice to see something, anything familiar. They sat down in front of the crow.

And then it wasn’t a crow. It was a being wearing shadows like a robe over their pale body. Its gray eyes stared into the person, into all they ever were. Horrible and beautiful.

“Oh.” The human did not react with fear, or even shock. Strangely, the figure still brought them comfort. Perhaps the being had been there their whole life, under the appearance of the crow. Perhaps it was some sort of guardian angel. Or perhaps it was one strange coincidence. It didn’t matter anymore.

“GREETINGS.” A voice akin to if whispers in the darkness spoke loudly instead came from the thing.

The two simply sat there for a bit. Until they began to talk again. About the kingdom, and about the thing that warped it in its own image. About the thing that drove it. About the curse that was still in the human’s blood, even if they escaped the kingdom. Even if their mind was clean. This burning red malice, it still lingered in the kingdom. In humanity. And whether they liked it or not, the human was a part of this now.

A deal was struck there. The king was never correct about their child’s identity, they were never some spreader of disease sent by the brothers to torment the king. They were merely a child who wanted to help the people of Alagadda. But they were not a mere child anymore, and the people of Alagadda could not be helped anymore either. They were consumed by a plague of madness, one the human could never hope to stop with what they currently knew.

So, the human would perfect a cure to the madness of spilt blood, eradicate it, and then they would return to the darkness they were in now. Or die trying. This was to be the human’s purpose, to cleanse the red-stained madness, one they took without hesitation. Only once it was gone, or if the physical burden on their rotten form grew too much, should they return here. To be a savior, to free the people of Alagadda, and help this… thing, that the king was wrong to use as an insult, who was better family than the king. This was something that the human accepted.

…Oh, who am I kidding?

They were not human anymore.

Come on, where was it? They knew it was somewhere in this journal- aw, there it was, right at the beginning. A simple list of names. Not every name, just the ones they could remember. A collection of them, lined up neatly. So many still unaccounted for.

The people of Alagadda. All gone from life and from memory. They couldn’t hope to remember every single name, but they put the ones they could here, as a memorial. It was necessary, since they were the only one who could mourn Alagadda.

They had hesitated at first, reading his name again, but it was needed at this point. His name was one of the first ones written, as the memories of him were some of the fresher, even now. They were close once, very close. But he changed. Sure, the kingdom changed everyone, but once away from the kingdom, he was still much more cruel. They did not wish for any part of this man to be remembered anymore, but they couldn’t just erase it. They couldn’t erase that boy who saw he was having a bad day and created poetry on the spot just to make them feel better, playing in the flowers, laughing together…

The doctor crossed out Dyo’s name. Never again, not even in death. Never ever, ever again. That boy was gone.

…Though, they figured the old them was gone too. They were not a quiet child worried about a father who never looked at him with love. They couldn’t care less about the king anymore. They were helping people now. They were untraceable to the kingdom now, no one needed to know, no one, no one.

No matter. It still hurt, just how much the two had grown apart. Perhaps it was meant to be, the two being driven apart. Maybe they should’ve stopped being sentimental and smashed the damned mask to smithereens.

This was why they didn’t sleep that night. What if Dyo came back? What if somehow, he saw the light? Or what if he came back to attack them again, and they had another chance to crush him?

But all throughout the night, Dyo did not return. It was quiet. Under different circumstances, they believed it would have been calming. But they couldn’t relax, Dyo could show up again, or someone sick could show up at their door needing help.

But as the sun rose, no one showed up. A part of them was sad Dyo didn’t show up again, but they buried that part of themselves. Their time as a child, as an allagadan, ended centuries ago. They were a professional, a doctor, they couldn’t keep thinking about the past, there were people they needed to save.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

Meet my 3rd Disco Elysium OC: Danny the Entroponeticist aka a Pale Scientist

Name: Daniel Arden Naveen

Nickname: Danny

Age: 33

Gender: Male (Trans)

Sexuality: Gay

Height: 5’10”

Weight: 150lbs

Race: Semenese

Danny grew up in Oranje as an only child to a single immigrant mother. He grew up poor, his mother working as a house cleaner for the wealthy homes in the nice neighborhoods and singing at night for some extra cash. Danny's father had been a Paledriver, but never came home after a trip, leaving his mother and Danny alone. From a young age, Danny was a curious child, always wanting to know how things worked and constantly on the move poking his nose into things he shouldn't. He because fascinated by the Pale from the time the basics were taught in elementary school. Danny would fantasize about traveling the Pale, hanging around the loading stations down by the ports for a chance to speak with the drivers and watch the Coalition airships take off. In high school, he ran track and field, seeing it as a way to help train his body and get fit for the goal of traversing the Pale. He had a high school physics teacher who took a shine to him, feeding his hunger for knowledge by getting him access to any and all books he could, and mentoring him one on one. At the age of 17, Danny built his own version of a Pale Latitude Compressor as well as his own suit using scrap from a friend in the autoshop class and old radios he had thrifted. He borrowed an old row boat from a friend of his father's and set out to the part of the Pale that hung off the coast, eating away at the sea ice. He completed 4 successful trips into the Pale, but his Compressor failed him on the 5th attempt. When he didn't come home, his mother contacted the Coalition Guard and, after a few hours, they located him and took him in to be questioned. Danny spent the entire night and half of the next day being questioned and evaluated before he was offered a scholarship to the University in Graad, making him one of the younger applicants of the Entroponetics program. At 21 years old, Danny graduated with his doctorate and has worked as an Entroponeticist for the last 12 years.

Most of what Danny does is the experimentation that others will not do; the dangerous acts that put one smack dab in the middle of the fray in order to know if something will work or not. He tests the updates to the equipment, proves or disproves theories, and pushes past the limits in order to see what is on the other side. It has earned him some scars, the strange swirls on the back of his hands from when a suit failed and began to be eaten by the Pale. It's also earned him quite the reputation, being cited in over 200 studies over the past 12 years as well as being published on his own three times.

Danny is constantly bouncing from Isola to Isola, never in one place longer than a few months. As a result, he was single for most of his life, not bothering to worry about anything other than his job. He finds people confusing, always feeling like he doesn't know the rules of social interactions. Danny wishes that people would just say what they mean instead of dancing around everything. As a result, he is rather to the point, and though certainly not rude, he does often hear this behavior can be rather jarring to those who aren't expecting him to be so honest. When he gives you his attention, he gives you all of it, which can feel a little intense sometimes. Danny is an incredibly bubbly person, easily excitable and almost always smiling, even when he is working on a problem. Making friends is rather easy for him, though he always seems to keep people at arm's length.

Aside from his experimentations, Danny is part of the division of scientists who investigates isolary entroponetics: the idea of the Pale being able to form from inside an Isola. It is part of why he is constantly on the move, though Revachol is often on his list. He has bounced in and out of Jamrock over the last 12 years after earning his degree. It was on one of these trips that he first met Jean Vicquemare ten years prior. It was a brief meeting, one that Jean remembered but that Danny had forgotten due to other major things that had happened at the same time. Their first meeting had been rather poor, Jean mistook Danny for a criminal; as a Junior Officer at the time, Jean went undercover at a gay bar in order to flirt with the young scientist. Danny had already been teetering on the edge of giving up on dating, so when a young Jean had made a fool out of him and grilled him for information, it was the switch that Danny needed to simply shut off that part of his life for good. The two men ended up meeting ten years later when Danny had been called by Trant in order to come on as a secondary Special Consultant, Danny already having been in town to investigate the Dolorian Church of Humanity. Danny didn't remember Jean, but Jean certainly remembered him, feeling guilty over his behavior all those years later.

Ultimately, the two men end up pursuing a relationship and Danny laughs about the situation, releasing Jean from his guilt. They complement one another well; Danny's bright and happy nature with Jean's sarcastic biting own. They work well, Jean needing the honesty that Danny provides and Danny very much appreciating Jean not allowing Danny to shrug off being cared for. There are some ways in which their relationship might now be "healthy", but it works for them; Danny loving when Jean gets possessive and Jean finding Danny's petty streak very flattering. The depression that Jean deals with and how he deals with it- pushing people away- does clash with Danny's fear of rejection, but they find a way to make it work. It helps that both men are fiercely loyal, those feelings driving them to the extreme when either is at risk. Both have helped the other come out of their shell in different ways, finding comfort and safety in one another even with everything else strives to be chaotic.

Danny is trans and began testosterone at 18. That is also when he got his top surgery, though he got his tubes tied at 21 as a "graduation gift" to himself. His mother was not supportive, being incredibly religious, and when she died when Danny was 23, they hadn't been speaking. It is one of his biggest regrets and is part of why he shut himself off to the world. He is not religious but he was raised in Dolorianism as a child.

[seriuslymoons]

After Story

Remus sat on the dusty bed. It obviously hadn't been touched in a while, the whole room looked like it hadn't been touched in some time. Besides one photo by the bed. There were marks from a hand placed face down. The dust still sat on Remus' fingers from facing the picture down, he couldn't bear to look at the faces in the picture. 

It had been several months since Sirius died, Remus couldn't really remember how long, just months. Months without seeing his goofy smile, months without feeling Sirius rough hand in his own. It was killing Remus inside. All of his friends were now dead, all of the people who had cared about him in the past, the ones who would do anything for him and he'd do anything for them. And now he was alone.

Sirius' cousin 'Tonks' had been trying to get his attention for a while, but Remus refused. Remus could see his smile in Tonks' and he couldn't bear that right now. Remus didn't even want to go to that stupid wedding, but he would have to, he was part of the group standing guard.

After some time of sitting there, staring blankly at the poster-covered wall in front of him, most of the poster contained muggle women with very little clothing. Such a Sirius thing. Remus let out a small huff resembling a laugh at the thought. He looked around the room, the weird wallpaper, slightly burnt gryffindor flags on the walls (Probably Walburga trying to get them down but failing). Remus' eyes landed on the photograph. 

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, flinching when his hand got closer as if the picture would reach out and bite him. He finally picked it up and turned it over. The smiling faces of Sirius, James, and Peter huddled together, and himself standing a bit to the side smiling at them. The picture moved, showing them laughing and messing around. It had been taken at the Potters home the summer Sirius ran away. He must have got it back from Monty and Effie before he was sent to Azkaban and stashed it here. Another picture on the wall was of him and his brother. Sirius standing proudly, but looking very unhappy, and his little brother Reggie, who was sitting in a chair next to him, then same scowl that the boy had at Hogwarts.

"Oh Sirius, you idiot." Remus said, his voice shaky and uneven. "I love you." Remus whispered before putting the picture back, facing it normally and getting up from the bed. Before he left the room, Remus opened the closet door, a box sat on the ground, the contents spilled everywhere. Letter, Polaroid pictures of the marauders & co, Sirius old video camera. It all sat there, a layer of dust covering it all. Who got into this? Remus wondered, but he shrugged it off.

He put everything back in the box and took it, along with Sirius' very worn and very loved leather jacket. 12 Grimmauld Place now belongs to Harry, that's what Sirius wanted. Remus was allowed to stay there as well, but he couldn't bring himself to stay. So he took what he wanted and left the rest for Harry. (Plus some of the stuff on that video camera is not meant for others' eyes) As Remus left, some of the other people who came to help clean up the house were sitting in the dining room area. 

Remus didn't know how long he'd locked himself in Sirius' old bedroom, but it was dark out now so Remus had to guess about two or three hours. Remus had lost Sirius once, a few people had noticed how broken he was that time as well. This time was different though. He had truly and Utterly lost the one person who was both his best friend, and his lover. Although nobody knew that they were more than old friends. Only Peter, James, and Lily knew that. But they were all as dead as Remus felt. Minnie had a suspicion, since she had caught them holding hands once when they were in school, that day was fun. Well, not for Remus but Sirius seemed to think it was funny. 

God, why did I have to lose him too? Remus thought as he walked out the door of the old Black house. He ignored people trying to talk to him as he walked out, and then walked across the street to the forested park to apparate back to the flat he was staying in at the time. 

The flat was quiet, almost too quiet. That's how it was, quiet, sad, dark. Remus couldn't bring himself to play music, or turn on the lights to see the collection Sirius had given to him after he got out. He gently placed the box on the coffee table, but kept a firm grip on the leather jacket as if it would disappear. 

Remus got ready for bed, then pulled the leather jacket over his shoulders. It fit because Sirius had broader shoulders then Remus. Plus Remus was skinnier from being a spy amongst the werewolves and from Sirius death. Remus laid down but couldn't fall asleep.

He had always had nightmares. Even when he was in school, the death of Sirius replaying in his head over and over again was worse than all the other nightmares by ten fold. So, he cuddled that stupid leather jacket Sirius bought in their seventh year. That stupid leather jacket that Sirius wore everywhere, that stupid leather jacket he worshiped. The same leather jacket that Sirius put patches and had even scribbled on in some places. And tried to rest.

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

Day three of Paxlovid, Bubby wanted to test and see if we're still positive for covid19. We are negative! Though I think it's just the med, and we may test positive after it wears off, but seeing negative did feel nice.

He got a bunch of tests for free from work. How? The place he works always has them on hand as is company policy, so giving him to boxes with 12 tests each wasn't a big issue. We'll be testing daily until probably next week.

I'm still feeling weird courtesy of covid19, like the room is rocking as though teeter tottering. It's not my ears. This is triggered simply by moving my eyes. Paxlovid isn't helping. I know a couple other epileptics have experienced this with covid19 and Paxlovid, so it's likely neurological. At the same time, it could ge the Ritalin I was taking (stopped when I started Paxlovid) was doing what over a dozen seizure meds I've used had done.

Meds like to release real quick in my system, which is why I use a extended release version of my seizure med. As one doctor put it, I have especially strong or concentrated stomach acid, which is why I was diagnosed with GERD. When my seizure meds were releasing too fast, they built up in my system, and weren't be processed fast enough. Every dose released more, building it higher and higher. This resulted in the med becoming toxic, a dose of activated charcoal so my liver wouldn't crash (and why I got my liver checked once a month on some meds) because apparently that's where the meds build up, and then I was without meds for a week for a full "cleaning house" situation. During that week, I was either booked in the hospital or never left alone at home. Ritalin may be doing the same seeing as it's designed to release quickly. I may need to switch to a different ADHD med, a slow release. This likely won't last the 12 hours most are designed for, and instead six to eight hours instead. My extended release seizure meds in the past did the same. Some of them I took more than once a day.

It's also why I can't be more than a two to three hour late for my next dose of my current med. After the second hour, I start having issues. When the end of the third hour hits, I either get my meds or a hospital visit.

Before anyone comes at me with "suggestions" or "advice" about my seizures or epilepsy: shut up. Not all epilepsy can be 100% controlled. Not everyone qualified for surgery nor implants. Not everything has the ending TV, films, and books consider happy. My epilepsy has 0% chance of 100% control. I have been on over 20 meds in 30 years, some of which are now blacklisted and illegal due to permanent side effects. My seizure threshold is fucking low, trigger by mood/state of mental health, fever/illness, hormones (i look forward to being postmenopausal), noise (not helped by autism), specific sounds (i don't know what they are, but when made it sets off a seizure), flashing/flicker lights (I haaaaaaate fireworks with a cold deep passion), food (celiac disease causes gluten to inflame my gut, resulting in my meds not being absorbed at all), and heat. The threshold is fucking low, meaning it takes little set off my seizures. My epilepsy is the number one reason I'm permanently Disabled and on SSDI. When I tried being part of the workforce, most of my time was spent fucked up from seizures. It nearly killed me. Ah, yes, epilepsy is terminal if not controlled. Every seizure is brain damage, every seizure a risk of SUDEP.

I feel weird, wonky, and physical unbalanced. For those who haven't experienced med toxicity, it's like being drunk but so much worse.

[utterlyinevitable]

“You look amazing tonight.” for ethan x mc

Amazing (2/2)

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) Rating: Teen+ Summary: It's a masquerade date at Boston Opera House! Trope: Fluff, Date, Secret Relationship 

A/N:  Part 1

__________________

Becca spent the beginning hours of her day off cleaning the apartment bathroom. A decision made on impulse and sheer boredom since waking up just after sunrise with the rest of her friends. 

She was scrubbing the last remnants of bleach from the shower tiles still, at noon, when there was a knock on her apartment door. Fumbling to slip into something moderately decent and shuffling her way to the door, she finds a courier stood unimpressed with an envelope and a small white box. 

“Delivery for Dr. Lao,” he reads off his handheld blandly. 

Becca pulled her robe tightly around her, “That’s me.”  

The young man handed her the parcels with one hand and the screen on the handheld with the other for her to sign for. With a tap of a stylus and a click of the door, when Becca was well and truly alone once more, she placed the unsuspecting package on the kitchen counter. Brows furrowed and trying to figure out where this weird present has come from. She hadn’t impulsively ordered anything in weeks and it was a few months too early for her aunt to be shipping her any presents. 

Fingers itching, and really nothing but curiosity to lose, Becca tore open the stark white envelope. 

The embossed card read: 

Rookie, That dress deserves a night out. Pick you up at 6pm. 

After some skilled Google sleuthing Becca surmised that he was taking her out. A public outing. Even if it is a masquerade event at the Boston Opera House. 

At promptly six o'clock in the evening, Becca slinked out of her apartment before Aurora could ask any questions. Her heels soundlessly trailing along the old '90s carpet to the complex door. A smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she sees her date front and center through the glass window.

Ethan's stood in a tux on the curb idly in front of his sedan, blue eyes scorching every patch of her skin on display. And maybe, just a sliver of a possibility that Becca feels the heat of his gaze and decides to saunter; walks a little slower, taking longer steps that sway her hips to the rhythm of his heartbeats.

“You’re right," his deep voice concedes. "That dress is impeccable." 

His eyes meet hers for the first time this evening. Ethan side steps just enough to open the passenger side door.

“I have so many questions," Becca says through her smile.  

Ethan raised an eyebrow, more out of habit than anything. “You can ask them while I drive.” 

As soon as the key was in the ignition and seatbelts were fastened, Becca asked the most pressing question that has plagued her mind the entire three hours it took her to get ready.

“How’d you pull this off in under 12 hours?" 

“What do you mean?" 

“Hot date. Mask that literally matches my dress perfectly."  

“It’s an annual members event at the Opera house. This year is masquerade themed. I wasn’t planning on going but…" 

“But you wanted to see me in this dress." 

He shook his head, a delightfully rueful smirk giving him away.

Becca couldn't help but think about the last time she was in this box. Ethan was kissing her, pinned her up against the upholstered railing with hands holding on for dear life. He told her 'it’s complicated' - and not much has changed. Though now their feelings weren’t complicated, they wholly belonged to the other in spirit. In practice, they were still close friends. Friends who were definitely more than in the privacy of Ethan's apartment. 

“You look amazing tonight," he reiterates, interrupting her reverie with hands curling around her waist.

“You’re not half bad yourself." Becca turns just enough to face him, flicking the programme between her fingertips. "Is this in English?" 

Ethan shook his head. “Danish.” 

“You speak Danish!?" 

She's rewarded to the warmest smile; the one's that accompany a twinkle in his eye and Becca swears makes her heat skip a beat.

“No." It's the almost-scoff, the jovial sound that turns the word into two syllables, that reminds her how endeared he is to her. She could go on countless amazing dates with any other men, but they wouldn't be half as fulfilling as doing nothing but making Ethan Ramsey smile.

Becca steps back considering his words. “Then let's make sure to keep perfect attention, Dr. Ramsey."

They both know that her words were hollow, even without the accompanying wink.

Intermission came, and instead of spending the thirty minutes doing nefarious things on every velvet-covered surface of his box, Ethan and Becca wandered down to the members bar.

They were engaged in a very serious discussion about the patronage of an event such as this, and Becca's comments on the antique lampshades that look like stoned squids sat atop the sconces, when an unfurling voice cut through their silly conversation.

“Ethan," the older gentleman boomed, his hand slicing through their conversation to reach for a handshake.

“Teddy," Ethan acknowledged with a limp shake of his wrist.

“All these years I’ve never seen you at a single event," Teddy smiles that of a Cheshire cat. His beaty eyes moving from Ethan to Becca to Ethan's pocket square the same shade as her dress, and back to a still-masked Becca (a choice she is more than glad she chose to don when leaving the box, in the spirit of the event and all).

“Yes, well my job is demanding." Ethan removes his hand and subtly wipes it against the back of his trousers. His feet shuffle slightly to his right, closer to the bar than towards Becca.  

Teddy didn't even notice the sober look of panic flash across Ethan's face as the man's eyes landed on Becca. “Who’s this lovely lady?" 

Ted's hand went to reach for Becca's, but before it could make much movement, the blonde woman leagues younger than her partner wrapped her arm around his. “Oh Ted, leave him alone, he's on a date," she cooed.

But the looks didn't leave. If anything they were more intent. Ethan's concealed panic, stormy eyes looking for any ounce of recognition in Ted's features, while Ted and the woman were waiting on Becca like two patrons at a zoo waiting for the parrot on display to speak.  

“Caroline," she says. Her shoulders held up higher and back just a bit straighter. "Nice to meet you…?"

“Teddy Hutch," he smiles wickedly, like a man with far too much endowment. "I work with Dr. Ramsey here. I’m on Edenbrook's legal team." 

“Oh."

Whatever would have happened next - whether Teddy would ask her about her career or how she knows Ethan, or whether the couple would have seen Becca turn towards Ethan with fear rooted in her eyes, or whether Ethan would have jumped in with an anecdote to pull the conversation elsewhere - is thrown off course because the blonde tugs further on Teddy's arm.  

“That’s enough badgering honey." 

“Enjoy the show," Teddy bids adieu as he saunters away.  

Fifteen seconds pass. Both Ethan and Becca's attention fixed on the retreating forms of a close encounter.

When the bell rings to return to their seats and the pair are sure there's no one else of note around to eavesdrop on their conversation, Ethan breaks their silence with furrowed brows.

“Caroline?"

Becca shrugs. “Not a big fan of Carolina."

Ethan's unwavering stare and wrinkled forehead keep her talking. "My middle name. Rebecca Carolina Lao. Caroline sounds more dignified."

He nods without finding fault in her rationale. They begin the walk back up the small staircase to their box hand-in-hand.  

“How’d you know?" he asked lowly and leaning down for just her ears.

“I’ve seen him coming and going from the administration floor. Figured you didn’t want anyone seeing us together."

The hold on her hand tightens. And it's okay. Neither of them want anyone to know - to burst their bubble just yet.  

The air around them is somber and so not what it was before.

“Who’s your alter ego?" she asks.

“What?" 

“In the mask. We’ve established mine’s Caroline, who’s yours?" 

“I will never be anyone other than Ethan." 

She shot him a very raised, very critical eyebrow. Silently calling him out for killing the fun.

Ethan sighs, loud and dramatic and just because he likes to niggle her. “I guess I could be Jonah." 

“Caroline and Jonah out on the town!” she laced her fingers with his and tugged him close. Close enough that with just one nudge, a lift of the tips of her toes, their noses would brush and she could kiss him right here at the top of the stairs.  

Ethan feels it too. “Rook-" he warns.  

“Caroline doesn’t work at Edenbrook."  

“That’s not how this works." 

“It’s exactly how roleplay works."

There, two doors down from Ethan's private box in the member's wing of the Boston Opera House, Jonah Ramsey and Caroline Lao share a kiss for any wandering eyes to witness.

_________________

@choicesficwriterscreations  @openheartfanfics

[lostathena]

Name: Athena Harper Pickett Nickname: Thee Date of Birth: February 24 Age: 26 Pronouns: She/Her Hometown: San Francisco, CA Occupation: Jackson Seamstress

Biography:

Athena found herself an orphan just hours after her birth when her birth mother passed away from complications from the birth. With no father in the picture, Athena is left alone in the world at only hours old. She lucked out though and a kind nurse and her husband would soon step up to adopt Athena. Athena would enter a loving home that not only included a mom and dad, but a big brother as well. Despite her sad beginnings, Athena knew nothing but love when she entered the Pickett's home.

Athena’s birth mother never got the chance to name her before she passed this left the Pickett’s with choosing a name for their new daughter. For days they went back and forth over what name to give their baby girl when the idea was to name her for a mythical god the same way their son did. After going over the many different names they settled on Athena with the hopes that their daughter would be wise and strong in life.

For 12 weeks Athena was doted on by both her parents and brother. The newly formed family of four bonded with each other but all too soon Athena’s mother had to return to work and within a few months her father was deployed once more. Just like her brother, Athena found herself spending time with the neighbors or her grandparents. The bright spot in all of this was the fact that her brother Atlas was there with her.

Athena might have been just a newborn baby but that did not stop her from developing an instant attachment to her brother. She smiled every time she heard their voice, giggled when she saw their face and as she got older, and started to move around on her own she would follow them. Athena always wanted to be where Atlas was and if she couldn’t be with him she would cry until she could. While you would think this would bug them it did not. Atlas doted on Athena. Over time Athena would do anything she could to make Atlas happy.

Happiness to a child can be the simplest thing even in the middle of an outbreak. Athena was only three years old when her world changed dramatically. Her family left their home to move into the San Francisco QZ. There she would live out her childhood, teenage years, and enter adulthood. She thought of herself as one of the lucky ones. She still had both her parents and her brother while others had lost one or both parents or even their whole families. Athena never took what she had for granted.

While her parents found jobs within the QZ, Athena was once more left with her brother. To help pass the time Atlas would allow her to add finishing touches to his artwork. She loves those moments and thinks of them often. As Athena grew she started to realize how much she loved to put pencil to paper and create something unique. Something that no one else had ever thought of.  While her drawings were not as good as Atlas’s, Athena still had a knack for creating beautiful dresses and shirts. Once her mother discovered one of Athena’s drawings she knew it was a sign that she needed to teach her daughter how to sew.

At first, Athena did not have much interest in sewing. She thought of it as a bit annoying and it took away from her time to play. Over time she started to realize that she had fallen in love with bringing two pieces of fabric together to form something new. By the time she was 16, she had started working with the other seamstress in the QZ. While the work never allowed her to make one of her designs, she was still doing something that was close to her passion.

Athena’s day-to-day life was in a continuous loop until it wasn’t. San Francisco QZ fell and that left a lot of chaos and destruction in its wake. Athena had been with her mother at the time and without thinking they headed back to their home in search of her father and brother. The mother and daughter were able to find Athena’s father, but her brother was nowhere to be found. Her father left in search of Atlas but never returned. The day turned into night and before Athena knew it three days had gone by with them locked up in their tiny home. Her mother knew they could not stay there any longer and took a chance by leaving to find help.

Athena thought she understood how the world was outside the walls of the QZ, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. The reality of the horrors that existed not just the outbreak but by how people treated others shocked the young woman. Leaving San Francisco behind, Athena and her mother traveled north toward Oregon. Her mother told her that she had a sister up there and the plan had been that if they got separated they would meet up there. It took weeks to make the trek through northern California up into Oregon. Just before they hit the state line trouble found the pair. Athena would make it out, but her mother would be bitten.

Athena begged her mother and pleaded with the old woman not to make her go but in the end, Athena left her mother. She made it about a mile away from her mother when she heard a shot ring out. With no idea where to go or who could help her, Athena wandered for months through California and Oregon then into Idaho, and at last down into Utah. It was in Utah that she finally met up with a group of five who were willing to let her join them. During her months of traveling any time she would come upon another human, they would chase her away or try to kill her. Athena quickly learned how to be cautious and reserved around others. She knew that at any moment a friendly face could turn into a deadly one.

This time was different and while Athen did not change cautious ways she did at last allow herself to open up to her new friends. Time passed and one month turned into two and all too soon a year and a half passed. By this point, they had made their way into Wyoming. They were camped just outside of Jackson when they were approached by two people. They seemed nice but that did not mean Athena was about to let her guard down. They talked for a few hours, answered questions, and questioned a bunch of their own. By the end, the strangers offered to bring them into Jackson. Athena entered Jackson hesitantly, unsure if this was all for real or a trick. Only time will tell if she has truly found a safe place or if she’ll end up back out into the unknown, searching.

[uptoolateart]

If I Let Myself Love You - Ch 12

My fic for @mlbigbang 2022!

PREVIEW from Chapter 12:

When lunchtime came, Marinette lingered outside the cafeteria door, contemplating going in for the first time in more than three months. Things were going better with Alya. And Marinette was forced to admit that she had missed the other girls all that time. And even some of the boys.

Stop pretending, a voice spoke in her head. It sounded like Adrien. You’re just afraid to be alone with me.

‘Marinette?’ His voice came from outside her head this time, and she nearly shrieked.

She turned slowly. Seeing him again sent a flutter through her chest and turned her blood warm. He was just so beautiful. It wasn’t simply his features. It was that plain look of total openness on his face.

‘Adrien! There you are!’ she exclaimed as though she hadn’t seen him all day and definitely hadn’t been avoiding him.

‘Is…everything alright?’ He scratched the back of his head, his expression uncertain.

‘Of course! I was just…looking for you! It’s lunchtime, after all, and we’re going to sit together, aren’t…aren’t we?’

He shoulders released, and he wore a look of pure relief. ‘I’m so glad you said that.’ He laughed in staccato, running a hand through his hair. ‘This might sound crazy but…I thought you were avoiding me or something.’

She felt a stab of guilt. ‘Me? Of course not! Don’t be silly, Adrien. Why would I ignore you?’ Stop babbling, Marinette!

He frowned hard, his eyes darting briefly to his shoes. ‘I don’t know.’ The way he said this, she had the distinct impression that he’d spent all morning genuinely trying to think of reasons why she might not want to be around him.

She’d got it all wrong. This was not a boy who would be ashamed of her or ignore her in public. It was clear as day that he’d been looking forward to being with her all morning.

She walked firmly to their bench and took her usual seat. He followed and sat beside her. He didn’t have a tray today, instead bringing his own bag from home.

‘I don’t trust the cafeteria,’ he confided. ‘They had a whole week to prove themselves to me and they failed. Now I’m a packed lunch kind of guy, all the way. Which is interesting because I didn’t think I would be. Eating lunch from a school cafeteria was on my list, you see.’

‘Well…at least you tried it?’

‘Yes! Because that’s who I am – the boy who tries something new every day!’ He laughed and opened his lunch bag. ‘Sorry I didn’t text much yesterday. I was just so busy.’

She tried to keep her voice light. ‘Oh, right. With what?’

He shrugged and pulled out a stuffed baguette. ‘I had the most boring photo shoot you can imagine. It went on for, like, five hours.’

‘…five hours?’ Who made that sandwich – a personal chef?

‘Mm-hm. It was for this new campaign Father’s designed for that perfume.’ He rolled his eyes.

She thought of the posters all over town. ‘Oh, right. Adrien: The Fragrance.’

He groaned loudly. ‘It sounds like something you spray on to smell like me. I can’t personally think why anyone would want that, but….’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t make the rules.’

Marinette giggled even as she tried to keep track of his schedule. Any second now, he would tell her what he’d been doing when she’d seen him at the Seine.

‘I don’t even wear cologne,’ Adrien went on. ‘So it definitely doesn’t smell like me. And the photographer just kept going on and on about spaghetti. I’ve never craved Italian food so much in my life, but alas, Father has me on this strict regime to keep me….’ He blinked like he’d just remembered he was talking – and maybe been about to say something he didn’t mean to say.

Keeping Reading at Ao3

*** No kwamis AU - 100% Adrinette. Half funny / fluffy and half heavy but with a happy ending. Please read tags. *** Rating: Teen and up

[hiddlesdarlinggabrielsangel]

This is pretty raw, and a lot longer than I expected but I think I needed to let it out. If you’re currently grieving a pet, this might be too much to read.

My dog passed away this past Saturday morning.

I’ve been in shock ever since and absolutely devastated. My appetite is gone and I’m nauseous and I’m realizing that even though my mom had a similar bond to Ivy, her way of grieving is very different, and I just feel alone.

While Ivy lived a wonderful life of 10 years, longer than many dogs get, she seemed to be doing fine until literally midday on that Friday and we had no idea it was something that would ultimately take her life. We’re struggling with all the “what-ifs” and “if only” thoughts but even though we don’t know for sure, we suspect the cancer we had removed a year ago had come back and even though we get her checked out routinely, we just didn’t catch it in time. The emergency vets said that it was as though her body was attacking itself. It’s just hard because we have her father from the breeder who literally turned 13 the day after she died, the day we buried her. We also still keep in touch with the breeder and she’s told us that HIS father is still alive. So, it was just so unexpected. And Zac, her dad, doesn’t even seem to be registering the fact that she’s gone. We showed her to him when we brought her home, but he barely noticed and just laid down next to her for a second before getting up and wandering off. He doesn’t have the best eyesight and maybe what they did to her body made her smell different, but I thought there would have been some recognition. But he just sort of moved on like nothing happened. Maybe he just understands better than we humans do that death is a part of life, even for his own daughter, but when she was alive he did look after her in his way. I just hope he doesn’t wake up one day looking around for her but we did all we could do.

I didn’t expect to get into the actual event but to be honest, it helped to type it out. The thing is, while I’m absolutely devastated right now, it’s not like I was on top of the world before she passed. Three years before we got her as a puppy in 2014, I was diagnosed with endometriosis. The year I graduated college, 2014, I got a job as a nanny for an emotionally abusive family (which I thankfully left after 3 months but was still a bit traumatized). I had a second surgery for endometriosis in 2015 and was prescribed depo provera which made my depression and anxiety way worse than it already was. I got a job as a photographer taking photos for church directories which was insane (12-17 hour days, no breaks worked in, at least 2-4 hour drives, many kind people but enough rude people to make it miserable), I developed panic attacks and took a medical leave of absence (ultimately left), was judged by so-called friends, went through a time where I couldn’t work because I didn’t know enough about what would trigger these panic attacks, isolated myself from my friend group (hardly any of whom were reaching out anymore anyway), and realized in early 2017 that most of those “friends” who did reach out weren’t really my friends, and between April 2016 - Sept 2017, my “job” (because I didn’t have a real, paying one) was to work on myself in individual and group therapy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m very grateful for both, but when your job becomes analyzing what’s wrong with you, or why you do what you do so you can stop/change/adjust constantly, it gets to be a bit much. Then I got a retail job in Sept 2017 where I dealt with a narcissist coworker. I also started getting migraines at that job in 2018. Sometime in 2018, my brother met his now wife who has never liked us because we don’t fit in to her “fantasy” (not confirmed, but my theory). When we first met, she told my brother I was “too nice” and “not candid enough”. We have done and continue to do everything we can to be welcoming and she’s nothing but disrespectful to all of us. She even sent something to members of her own family recently that they have been very hurt by. Anyway, in July of 2019, I briefly got a job canvassing neighborhoods for a construction company until I had an 8-hour long panic attack. Needless to say, I did not stay there. Feeling ashamed and hopeless, I made a plan to take my own life. My dad interrupted me as I was writing the suicide note, and obviously I’m still here. I got another job the following week, one that I’m still at, but it didn’t come without its hiccups. A man who yelled at me and who I still have to set boundaries with nearly five years later. Another man who acted inappropriately but ultimately he was set straight. As you can imagine, my brother’s girlfriend/fiancée/wife made our lives difficult and did everything she could (and succeeded a long time ago) to separate him from his family who he seemed to be so close to before (I used to think of him as my best friend). In the summer of 2020, I started having hypnopompic hallucinations where I’d wake up physically but I would still see things as though I was in a dream state which freaked me out. In December of 2020, I made a total of 6 batches of cookies, rolled out, embossed, all the works for literally hundreds of cookies, and that triggered an underlying back issue from carrying too much weight in my backpack slung over only one shoulder in college. This resulted in me going to the chiropractor, getting massages, and as the back issue was finally working itself out, it felt as though it dispersed all that pain and more to the rest of my body. I won’t go into it because that would be a post somehow longer than this, but about a year later after having had a third surgery for endometriosis in 2021, seeing a gastroenterologist, worrying if I was having seizures, and finally seeing a neurologist, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 2022. I found out my uncle had been diagnosed with cancer earlier that year too, a sarcoma. He passed away in May.

Around a month later, my mom, a non-smoker, was diagnosed with a rare type of non-small cell lung cancer. It’s called ROS1 and it’s very aggressive. Not only that, but it does not go into remission; my mom will have this cancer for the rest of her life. Already, she’s gone through two treatments, and the when we suspected the trial she was on wasn’t working anymore because of a mass they found in her right lung, she had a biopsy done in December right before New Years, and in the middle of it, she had heart failure. Thankfully, they revived her and she’s ok. At first they thought it was a heart attack but her arteries were clear. They said it was a case of broken heart syndrome. Her heart has recovered fully since then, but she was taken off the trial, and after briefly trying another targeted treatment, she’s now on chemotherapy.

After experiencing a traumatic event with my brother and sister-in-law back in December of 2023, my family hosted a baby shower for them at our house earlier this month. I’ve been conflicted about how I feel about the coming of this child. I have been overwhelmed about my mom and the side effects she’s been having from the chemo along with the other drug that they’re giving her for the first 4 rounds. My dad caught pneumonia a few days before Ivy passed. I was already overwhelmed.

I was almost always already overwhelmed. But through all of the above, except those first 3 years of endo, I had Ivy. I could go to her. I could play with her. I could pet her. I could cuddle her. Or I could just watch tv or be on my phone but she always had a way of knowing when I’m sad or upset and needed her there. And I think she just genuinely wanted to be with me whether it was on the couch, on the floor, or even upstairs.

That’s part of why this is so hard. It’s ALL of these current things, plus Ivy. Ivy made it bearable. I know I’m not always going to feel this way, but I think I need to get it out somewhere. While I know that I will move on and live my life through the good and the bad… part of me doesn’t want to. I don’t want to face life without Ivy. I don’t want to have people come into my life and not be able to introduce them to my “buddy”. I know how that sounds. And again, I know I won’t always feel that way, but the thing is, I don’t have any friends I can talk to. I have people who care about me and that I care about, but I’m not close enough to share this and one person I used to think might be that type of friend kind of has proven that she’s not interested in a real friendship. She just checks on me by text every few months and says she’s praying for me. While that’s sweet, whenever I try to engage, she ignores it and then literally just writes another text checking up on me a few months later. She responds to updates, but not when I try to reciprocate.

So, with my friends falling away, with my brother turning away from me, Ivy really was my best friend. Possibly my only real friend.