#but my dad thinks he can get the boiler down the stairs safely

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

I am fookin exhausted. I have lugged a broken riser recliner chair, vacuum cleaner,broken tumble dryer and TV outside for the council to pick up tomorrow.

I couldn't safely get the old broken ass boiler downstairs without something going wrong.

I am exhausted and there is a likelihood the damn council won't even take our shit

I'm so done.

[harringtonstilinski]

Safe With Me - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @stilinskiparker​ Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Reader Word Count: 505 Warnings: Fluff, little bit of Angst? Idk. Requested: Hi! Could I request 13. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me” with either Dylan or Stiles please? A/N: My first request ever by the lovely @kellysashcroft​. Thanks so much for requesting this, love! I had so much with it. I kind of based it on the Night School episode (which is one of my favorites of S1, lol). It’s kind of all over the place ‘cause I was trying to remember the events as they happened in the episode, but I hope it meets your expectations! As always for anyone else reading, read at your own risk and enjoy ��

Running through the school, I didn’t think I’d be at this point in my life. Sure, I was only 16 and had my whole life in front of me, but this was different. Scott was bit about a month or so ago, and we’ve been dealing with this creature called Alpha. 

Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm my racing heart, I slowed my running down to bend over and rest my hands on my knees. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“Y/N/N, what’s going on?” Stiles asked. “Why’d you stop?”

“Cause I don’t see him anywhere,” I breathed. I stood back up, feeling like I could take a nice, refreshing breath again. I hadn’t noticed that I stopped in front of a wall of windows, so to say that I was freaked out when I saw two glowing eyes at me from across the outside of the school would be a severe understatement. 

“Oh, shit,” Scott muttered. “Run. Guys, run!”

Good thing we did, too, because as the Alpha ran and jumped into the windows, Scott, Stiles and I tore off down the hallway.

“Boiler room!” Stiles said. “Boiler room, boiler room. GO!”

Running down about two or three flights of stairs later, the three of us found ourselves in the boiler. 

“What are we even doing down here?” Scott asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, Scotty,” I sassed. “Having a picnic.”

He rolled his eyes and walked around me and Stiles, leaving us to ourselves for a moment. I felt his fingers lace with mine; something we used to do for comfort as kids. I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “I’m not gonna die here. I refuse to die at school just because someone’s after Scott.”

“Hey,” Stiles said, turning me to face him a little more. “You’re not gonna die. I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” I whispered. 

Putting a hand on my cheek, he whispered, “Because you’re my best friend. I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” He gently pulled me forward, placing a quick kiss to my forehead before walking around me to go find Scott, my hand still in his.

We ended up finding him, and chaos ensued after that; the Alpha somehow got inside the ceiling, Allison, Lydia and Jackson somehow made it here. Oh, and then Scott ended up getting put under the Alpha’s influence and ended up being like Carrie and wanted to kill us all.

Did I mention that he also found a dead janitor in the bleachers? No? Oh. Well, he did.

Sheriff and his deputies as well as the EMT’s and such ended up coming to the school ‘cause at one point Stiles called his dad, which we were more than grateful for. 

Standing next to Stiles by his Jeep after talking with Deaton, who was in the back of an ambulance, I poked his shoulder, causing him to look at me. “Thanks,” I said.

He looked at me confused. “For what?”

“For being my best friend.”

~~~

Forever Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 ​ @stixnstripesworld

~~~

If you have any requests, please don’t hesitate to ask! And if you would like to be apart of a taglist, just let me know 😊

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.28

Word Count: 2,581

Characters: Derek Hale, Cora hale (brief), Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent (brief), Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluff

A/N: this part took a turn with my okay writing oof sorry peeps

Masterlist           Series Masterlist

“We’ll split up into two, okay? Me and Isaac, you and Derek,” you looked at the hole in the wall, remembering a few minutes ago as Boyd and Cora escaped.

There was blood dripping from Scott’s mouth, as he leaned against the vault door, Allison next to him.

“Can you even walk?” Scott asked you.

“I’m fine,” you replied, taking a deep breath as you leaned against the walls.

Scott could smell the blood dripping from you.

“It’s not the worst I've had,” you breathed heavily as you stood up, looking around.

Derek wasn’t there. You frowned, wondering where he went.

Cora was alive. Peter really did save her. 

“Where did Derek go?” you asked.

“I’m here,” he appeared behind you, holding Erica's body in his arms.

“God,” you closed your eyes, looking away from her.

She was dead.

“(Y/N),” Derek walked to you, holding your hand.

“Yeah?” you cleared your throat shakily as you looked up at him.

He began to take your pain as you exhaled shakily, watching as the black veins went throughout Derek’s arm.

“You don’t have to-” you started.

“I know. I think,” he looked at Scott and Allison before lowering his voice and looking back at you.

“I think you should go home,” he said softly.

“What? Why?” you frowned.

“You’re hurt,” he started.

“I’ve had worse. Derek, I’m fine,” you said.

“I know, (Y/N), please. They're not just werewolves on a full moon, they weren't able to shift for months. They’re basically rabid,” he said.

“Which is why you’ll need help in the first place,” you raised an eyebrow.

“No, what I need is for you to be safe. Please, I’m begging you,” you looked into his eyes, looking as they watered slightly.

“I can help,” you said softly.

You felt a pit in your stomach as you looked at him. Like he didn't want you there.

“I know you can. But I want you to be safe. Please,” he begged.

You nodded your head softly, looking down. He lifted your head up, pressing a kiss to your lips as he stroked your cheeks.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you bit your lip as you walked out of the vault.

---

You were on your way home, spotting Argent’s car in front of you, parked. He must’ve been getting groceries. An idea immediately came to your head, knowing he could help.

You took a deep breath, walking into the store as you looked for Chris.

“Chris,” you spotted him in front of you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he asked you.

“Looking for you. I need help.” you started.

“Yeah, walk and talk,” he motioned, as you walked alongside him while he did his groceries.

“Okay, a few months ago Erica and Boyd were kidnapped. By some alpha pack,” you started explaining.

“What does it have to do with me?” he asked.

“I’m getting there. We found them. Well, we found Boyd. Erica’s dead,” you exhaled shakily.

“Yeah, hold this,” he began to hand you a tray of eggs and milk.

You rolled your eyes, holding them.

“Boyd’s alive, and so is Derek’s sister, Cora. But they were kept from shifting for the past three full moons,” you said.

“How?” he asked, barely paying attention as you began to get frustrated.

“Chris, will you just look at me for like two seconds? I need your help here,” you stood in front of him.

“(Y/N), I don't hunt anymore,” he replied.

“That's a lie, Chris,” you rolled your eyes.

“No, it's not. We’re out, (Y/N). Me and Allison. I lost my wife, my sister, my dad. No more,” he shook his head, giving you a sorrowful look.

“But you’re not like them, Chris. You’re better than them. That’s why we need your help,” you said softly.

“I can't. I’m sorry,” he sighed.

“Chris, please,” you begged.

“Need a ride home?” he asked.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” you sighed in defeat, looking down, not able to help but feeling useless.

You finished helping Chris with the groceries, getting into his car as you looked out the window. 

“Are you okay?” he asked you.

“Yeah, fine,” you rubbed your forehead, sitting up as Stiles called you.

“What’s up?” you asked, picking it up.

“Boyd and Cora killed someone,” Stiles said.

“What?” your eyes widened.

“Can you meet me at the community pool?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there,” you hung up the call, turning to Chris.

“Can you drop me off somewhere else?”

---

You pulled up to Stiles, surrounded by police cars and ambulances, along with a crying family holding each other as they looked at their kid’s body.

You looked at Chris, while he looked out the window, looking at the body. 

“Did they do this? Was this Boyd and Cora?” he asked you.

“Yeah, it was,” you replied.

“Damn it,” he sighed, before looking at you.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do…”

---

You texted Scott, telling him to meet you and Chris by the preserve, while the two of you waited anxiously for their arrival.  

“What are you doing here?” you heard Derek’s voice behind you.

“Me and Argent have a way to help with Cora and Boyd,” you started.

“Yeah, one second,” he pulled you away from the rest of them as you frowned.

“What is it?” you asked, looking up at him while keeping your voice low.

“I told you to go home,” he said.

“But I can help. We have a way-” you tried to speak before cutting you off again.

“I don’t care if you have a way! I need you to be safe! Why is it so hard for you to listen?!” he raised his voice as he began pacing around, rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes watered slightly as you looked at him.

“Me? You’ve basically ignored everything I’ve been trying to say! For weeks! I’m trying to help, Derek! Erica was my friend, Boyd was my friend, Cora was my friend! I’m not letting you deal with all of this by yourself! Why are you getting mad at me for this!?” you frowned, tears in your eyes as you looked at him. 

“I don’t need your help,” he exclaimed.

Before you replied, Isaac walked nervously to the two of you, handing you a bag.

“Uh, we decided to split. You and Derek are gonna go together. Here are the light things,” he gave you an awkward smile before dropping the bag in front of you, running off.

“C’mon, let’s just get this over with and trap them in the school,” you looked away from him as you wiped your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“(Y/N),” Derek started, his voice softened as he walked toward you.

You shook your head, as you ran ahead, avoiding him as you felt that pit in your stomach. That never-ending pain. Why was love so hard?

---

After placing all the light emitters around the woods, creating a path to the school, you and Derek made your way to the school, in silence. 

None of you had said a word to each other since earlier. 

“I can hear something. I think they fell for it,” Isaac shook his head.

“Good, so how exactly are we leading them to the boiler room?” you asked Chris.

“Well, we have three wolves, a hunter, and a witch. We can figure out something,” Chris replied.

“Not good enough. We need an actual plan,” you shook your head.

“Yeah, I agree. How are we gonna lead them to the basement?” Scott asked.

“Okay, well obviously someone needs to be at the front to keep them closed in. We need people in the back too,” you bit your lip as you paced around. 

“How about you and Derek keep watch for them from the front?” Isaac suggested.

You turned to him, glaring as you gave him a death look.

“Actually,” you started.

“Yeah, we’ll lock the doors from the front,” Derek nodded as he held your arm, pulling you to his side. You smacked his arm, pushing away from him. 

“New plan. How about Isaac and (Y/N)?” Scott shrugged.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” you linked arms with him as you pulled him with you, running off. 

“Why’d you offer me and Derek?” you whisper-yelled at him, pulling him out of the school.

“Well, if it’s not obvious, you two are clearly having problems and need to talk it out,” Isaac said.

“We’re not having problems,” before you could finish your statement, Isaac interrupted you.

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I live with you two, in case you forgot,” he said.

“Shut up. I hate it when you’re honest. You’re gonna chase away any girls or boys interested in you,” you crossed your arms.

“Well, you’re supposed to be truthful to those you love. If someone dumps me for being truthful, then they don’t deserve me,” he replied, making a face.

“If you go home right now, I won’t say anything,” Isaac said.

“You’re joking, right?” you scoffed.

“No, actually, I agree with Derek. Look, you’re my best friend, you mean the world to me, but you can’t heal like us. No one wants to see you get hurt, you mean too much to us,” Isaac said.

“Chris is human, in case you forgot,” you argued.

“Well, Derek isn’t dating him. He’s dating you. He doesn’t love him. He loves you,” he said.

You sighed, looking away from Isaac before hearing a noise, as your head peaked up. 

“Tell me you heard that too,” Isaac said as you nodded. 

“Duck!” The two of you ran to opposite sides of the school, hearts beating fast as you heard Cora and Boyd run straight in.

You ran back to the front, quickly shutting the doors as you wrapped the chains around them.

“Bloquear,” you recited a spell, your eyes glowing purple as chains fell, turning to dust as Isaac looked at you.

“The doors won’t open now,” you shrugged.

He pulled at the door, opening it as he raised an eyebrow.

“No one will be able to get in or out if they’re in wolf form, and it’s gonna last till the sun comes up.”

“It was just that easy, huh?” he mocked.

“Yeah. C’mon, let’s go,” you pat his back as the two of you walked in.

---

You made your way to the boiler room, as Scott and Derek leaned against the door, out of breath. 

“They’re trapped,” Scott said, breathlessly. 

“So, we did it,” you walked to Scott, holding his hand as you led him to the stairs. 

“Wait,” the three of them froze, turning to the boiler room. 

“Someone’s in there,” Derek said.

“Oh god,” you felt your heart stop out of fear. 

“I’m going in,” Derek said, about to open the door. 

“What? No! That’s suicide!” you yelled at him.

“Whoever’s in there needs help,” Derek turned to you.

“What if Cora and Boyd hurt you? Or worse,” you said.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Derek, no. We’ll figure out something else, we have to,” you shook your head, walking to him.

You could feel your heart beating harshly. 

“There’s no time,” Derek replied, holding your hand.

“Derek,” you started. He pressed a small kiss to your hand, before motioning to Isaac.

“Isaac?” Derek nodded his head.

“Derek, no please,” you begged. 

You felt as Isaac wrapped his arms around you, holding you as he began to pull you away.

“Isaac, stop. Please, Derek, don’t do this,” you begged him.

He looked at you, smiling softly before running into the boiler room, locking the door behind him.

“(Y/N), come with me,” Scott started, holding your arm as you pushed away from him and Isaac. 

“Both of you are insane! I’m not going anywhere,” you yelled.

“(Y/N), I’m staying right here. I’m staying here with Derek. He’ll be okay. But right now, Scott needs you. Stiles needs you. You have to go with Scott,” Isaac said softly.

“Isaac, I can’t just leave him,” you sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes for a second.

“He’ll be fine. Go,” Isaac gave you a small smile.

After looking nervously between the two of them, Scott reached for your hand, nodding softly before the two of you walked away.

---

“Okay, look. These are the three bodies. Look carefully. They were all killed the same way,” Stiles pointed out a ligature mark around their necks. 

“So what does it mean?” you asked.

“It means Boyd and Cora didn’t kill anyone. These bodies are sacrifices. Three sacrifices,” Stiles explained.

“For what?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, but sacrifices are always bad. And on top of that,” Stiles took a deep breath as you and Scott looked at each other, then at him. 

“(Y/N), will you have sex with me?” As soon as Stiles spoke, you immediately curled your fist, punching him harshly in his arm.

“Ow!” he yelped.

“What is your problem?” you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, the people who are being sacrificed are all virgins! Meaning me! So yeah, I’m a little scared for my life. Besides, you won’t even have a boyfriend in a few hours, so,” Stiles jumped back as Scott took his arm, holding you back as your eyes glew purple.

“If Scott wasn’t here this morgue would’ve gotten another body,” you clenched your teeth.

The two of them looked at you, before looking away. 

You rubbed your head as you leaned against the table, sighing. 

“I’m going home,” you said softly.

“Yeah, we’ll see you later,” Scott said, waving as you walked away.

---

You walked through the night, noticing the sun rose as you took a deep breath. Derek would be okay if he was still alive. 

You felt sick in your stomach as you continued walking to the loft, taking a deep breath.

You heard leaves rustling, feeling that uncomfortable feeling once more. Like someone was watching you.

You froze, feeling your heartbeat as you turned around quickly, staying alert. But there was no one there.

You’re tired, no one’s there

You shook your head, opening the door for the loft as you took a deep breath, walking in.

“(Y/N),” Derek stood in front of you as you walked in, tensing up.

You looked at his ripped clothes, dried blood all over his body, as well as his face. Your eyes watered before you walked closer to him.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

“I’m okay. I didn’t mean to get mad at you. All I care about is you being safe because I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he immediately apologized, stroking your cheek.

“We’re always fighting now,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“I know, we can fix this,” he nodded softly.

“Yeah,” you sniffled.

“Cora’s alive,” he smirked.

A smile crept up your face.

“Where is she?” you asked.

“She’s right here,” you felt your bones jump as you heard Cora’s voice from behind you.

You turned around, laughing as tears fell from your eyes.

“Cora,” you exclaimed.

You ran to her, wrapping your arms around her tightly as she hugged you back.

“(Y/N), I missed you so much,” you heard her sniffle.

“Can’t believe you’re crying you baby,” you laughed softly, wiping your face. 

She laughed, as the two of you held each other tightly, reunited as one. Your second half was back, she was alive, she was okay.

[illusionlockarchive]

Smile for Me Walkthrough Guide (Good End, Everyone Happy)

Hey there! My name's Romeo, and I'll be your guide as we solve the puzzles and riddles of Dr. Habit Kissing Simu-OOPS I MEAN - Smile For Me!

This will be a Good End run, as this is the ending I understand best how to get and was aided by my friend on getting it. I noticed a severe lack of any playthroughs that went further than the carnival, and pretty much no written walkthroughs, so I'm providing for that.

Without further delay let's begin!

The first day, talk to Nat, the person standing at your door. She will ask a series of yes or no questions, which you can nod or shake your head to, to keep the conversation going. After her last question, she will ask to see a flower. Show her the dawn blossom in your inventory. Grab the other flowers by the window with the hand she gives you, then select one and hold it out long enough for her to finish sniffing. She should be happy now.

Go out of your room and talk to the painter, Dallas. Once he's explained his situation with Mirphy, the photographer, go talk to her the other side of the room. After she's finished, back away a little bit, and pay attention to what she says to herself. Or just keep reading the walkthrough and I will tell you myself hehe.

Go talk to Dallas, nod when he asks if you figured it out. The clues are as follows: likes small canvases -> yes, likes to fill with action -> no, likes greens -> no, likes dogs -> no

If you do all this correctly you will get the Unremarkable Painting. Give it to Mirphy. She will give you her old camera in return. Go talk to Dallas. He will ask if she is into him or not. You can either nod or shake, as it should not affect your progress (although I feel it's more safe and genuine to disagree). Whatever your answer, he will move out of the way, and now you can go down the stairs. Dallas and Mirphy won't turn truly sparkly and blue until later, so leave them alone for now.

In the yard, you will find three characters. There is a path to the boilers, but they are blocked off by chains.

You can do the first three characters' quests in the yard in any order, as they all depend on each other somewhat, but I'll give you my preferred order. Talk to Trencil, the blond man in the corner, first, and after a small conversation he will ask you to plant flowers for him. You should still have the flowers from before in your inventory.

Each flower needs to be in a specific pot so that they receive light at their optimal time to bloom. Their positions are as follows: Duskflower in the pot closest to the man, Noonbloom in the middle pot, and MorningDaisy in the pot closer to the door of the rooms building.

Leave them be until the next day. Talk to the little girl, Millie, and she will tell you to hit Ronbo, the clown, with a golf ball, using the pipes. To do this, simply align the pipes by turning the wheel on them, then telling Millie when you believe they are ready. You will eventually get them in the right position, allowing her trick shot to hit Ronbo, and she will be made happy. As a reward she will give you the Erythronium seed. Plant it on the flowerpot on your windowsill the next time you visit your room.

Talk to Ronbo, learn that he needs the locket. Align the pipes again, this time so they hit the locket that is hanging from the lounge sign. Pick it up, show it to Ronbo. He will tell you to get a picture of Tiff, however she is located somewhere else entirely. If you have already advanced to the next day and completed the flower errand, talk to Trencil. He will give you the shears. Use them to advance to the next area, the boilers. Find a small window that shows a bit of the lounge, and take a picture of the girl that is closer, Tiff. Go back and show it to Ronbo. The carnival should be open now.

Let’s head back to the boilers. Talk to the man in a scarf, Trevor, there, and he will tell you to get a confession from Trencil. Go back upstairs and use the locket to unlock the room with the padlock on it. Take the megaphone, you will need it for this quest and for later as well. Go back downstairs. Take a picture of Trencil and show it to him, and when he starts talking about how he hasn’t aged, put the megaphone up to him. Go back and talk to Trevor, and he should turn sparkly and happy.

Head to the carnival. Talk to the little girl, Putunia first, she will tell you to come back the next day. Then talk to the Broccoli Kid, and say no to his every offer, until he gives you the Item Finder for free. Use it to find and dig up three items: A shiny quarter, a pocket mirror, and a quick-translate, all of which you will need later. If you haven’t advanced into the next day yet, do it now. You will be able to in this next day meet Gillis, the strong man that was guarding the lounge before. Talk to him, then take a picture of him and hang it on the camera. Talk to him again. Next, go to the carnival. Play the button-pressing game, using the pocket mirror to cheat without having to physically look behind you. After you’ve won the bear, give it to Gillis, and he will give you his mask, and tell you the code to get into the Lounge: 3 knocks, pause, 4 knocks, pause, 2 knocks.

Take the mask and slap it against a crude red colored painting on the wall of the carnival, to make it red, then give it to Putunia next time you talk to her (she will not accept the mask in its original form). Next, walk behind the fortune teller tent, and use the shears on that small square patch, and you should get the cape you need to give to Putunia. In return, she will give you the boxing glove.

Go talk to the man holding a briefcase and standing next to the tire fire, Parsley. He will tell you how hungry he is, and to get some food from his father. Before you go to the lounge, look for loose bolts around the carnival, one will be on Martha, another next to Parsley, and the last at the fortune teller tent. Go to the lounge and talk to the bartender, Parsley’s dad. He will give you a recipe, and you can already put down the “mushrooms” aka the bolts. Next, go back and talk to Dallas. He will give you a new quest, find a home for three consecutive paintings. The first should go to Putunia, the second to Trevor, and the last to your own room, as there will be a nail on the wall indicating you can hang it there. After you’ve done that, talk to him and he will give you his palette.

Go back to the Lounge and place the palette in the recipe as the “meat” then the very recipe paper as the “cheese”. Take the finished result to Parsley, let him eat, and talk about visting his father. Go back to the Lounge, talk to his father, and he will become happy and sparkly, and give you the bathroom key. Go into the bathroom, open the locked door, take the fortune coupon, then flush the toilet and grab the toilet teeth. Go back to the Carnival and give the teeth to Broccoli Kid after he states he needs a favor from you, and watch him turn sparkly and happy. Check on Parsley, make sure that he will visit his father, remember to not agree to his father talking about girls or sports. The next day, Parsley will be at the Lounge, and talking to him will immediately make him happy and sparkly.

(EDIT: SPEAKING OF NEXT DAY, I FORGOT TO PICKLE BOY) Pickle Man spawns I think a day after the lounge. For him you can either give the pickle jar to Gillis so he can open it or just crash the jar into him so many times he gets coated in pickles anyway. So sorry.

(ANOTHER EDIT: SORRY TO TRENCIL) Around a day after the lounge as well you may go back to Trencil and do a new quest to fully make him happy. To do this, play a game of telephone: talk to Nat, then talk to him, then go back to Nat, then as she says “If you think I’m gonna be the bigger person...” put the megaphone to her mouth. Then go downstairs and talk to him and he should be happy.

Next, return to the rooms building, and to the flight of stairs where a moping woman, Lulia, is located. Talk to her, and learn from her she needs to see that she will have a good fortune. Go back to the carnival, and into the fortune teller’s tent. For the fortune telling to work, you need to wait until noon, when a ray of sunshine illuminates the crystal ball (thanks to the cut out patch). You can do this by accelerating time with the stop watch. When the sun is shining on it, touch the crystal ball with the coupon, and you will be able to get the Good Fortune Certificate. Bring it back to Lulia, and she will be cheered up as well.

Go to sleep, and in the next day Lulia will have moved. Go upstairs and talk to Borbra, the large woman with the binoculars, and she will tell you to get an Y’owl, as in exchange she gives you a glove over your hand. Talk to the purple child, Tim Tam, and they wil tell you to punch 20 people. Do just that, then come back to her. Grab the duck, then take the shortcut to the carnival by taking the shears, cutting the chains and opening a hole between the bars and jumping down. Give Gillis the duck. Go back upstairs, then talk to Tim Tam again. Staring contest. Then, get the two other lost items. Give the lipstick to Lulia, then go back down again and give the cigarettes to Ronbo.

Since you are already down, next attempt the Y’owl quest. To do this, it must be night, almost time to sleep, and you must stand with your hand out only a few steps away from the tire fire in the carnival. Wait for the Y’owl to spawn, and it will run in a circle. To catch it you must actually grab it. Once you’ve succeeded in grabbing it, make your way upstairs and sleep (inevitably). After you wake up, go back down, and talk to the fisherman in the pond. Go into the boilers, take a picture of the person in the hole, then put it over the camera. The fishermen should be happy and sparkly, and give you his fishing rod. Go into the carnival, and dig under the tree next to its entrance to find a hat. Go back to the rooms building, punch a hole into the “Habit Loves You” poster, and grab the toothbrush, then bring it back to the Lounge, go into the bathroom, and put paste on it by slapping it against the paste stuck on the sink.

Take the fishing rod to the roof, then among the umbrellas find the one spot that has a missing umbrella (you will understand when you see it), and put the fishing rod there. Before you go, talk to Tim Tam, have her turn happy and sparkly. Then talk to the sad girl with the strange language and give her the hat, and she will turn happy and sparkly. Go to the little building still on the roof, with the picture of a lily, and use the shears to cut the chains. Advance the story by pressing the button until you find the glasses.

Go downstairs, talk to Mirphy, she will tell you about how she wants a butt pic. Back away for her and wait for her to get distracted, then take the picture and give it to her. She will upgrade your camera, and now it has a flash feature. Go into Tiff’s bedroom, then take pictures of her contract until the ink is ruined. Go down to the Lounge, then talk to Tiff, let her know you already got rid of the contract, then talk to the tipsy woman, Jerafina, and give her her glasses when she asks for them. Next, take the kiss she offers. Both Tiff and Jerafina should also be happy and sparkly by then.

Go back to your room, and give the kiss to the plant. Then go back to the roof.  Next, go talk to the man inside the bars, Kamal, and brush his teeth, and after that take a picture of him. Go back down and to the boilers, then go talk to the person in the hole, Wallus, and show him Kamal’s picture. Agree to find the record. Don the gloved hand and listen to his instructions as you search the acid waters. Once you pick it up, show it to him. Go back to the Lounge, and if you haven’t used the quarter on the jukebox yet, use it now. Select the Pumpkin album. Go back to the boilers and talk to Wallus, and he will give you his ID. Take a picture of him with the new camera. Go back to the Lounge, use the ID to get a drink from the bartender.

Go back to your room, give the flower the drink, then as it smiles, brush its teeth. Take the Tooth Lily. Go back to Kamal on the roof, and show him both the ID and the picture of Wallus. If you’ve done everything right, he will ask if you want him to open up the tunnels. Say yes, although you might want to save first if you haven’t yet. Remember to have the Lily in your inventory. Then go back to your room and sleep (advance the time if it’s not late enough to sleep).

After you get out of bed, make your way outside, and into the boilers. Go through the door that was once closed, continue through the halls, until you finally find yourself in a circular room with an elevator to the side. Enter, then press the button to go up. Once it’s gone up and opened, walk out and walk around the waiting room until you black out.

Go through the cutscene. Once Habit leaves the room, you’ll be able to get control of your inventory once again. Use the hand to grab the teeth and mirror. Use either the smaller mirror or bigger mirror, and you will be able to see the code on the wall. Use the teeth and fling them at the correct numbers: 7 4 0 8 1. Once you’re free, climb the knocked over pillars and then use the hand to turn the wheel on top to open up the door. Walk out the door, and as Habit begins monologuing, show the Lily to him. Follow through the conversation with him. Agree to all his requests, to listen to him, be his friend, etc. He will turn happy and sparkly. Leave through the elevator and then go down, then leave through the main gate that should now be open.

OPTIONAL 1: If you play the Wack-A-Molar game in the carnival, you can get an additional diary page as a prize. It’s not required, but it is interesting.

OPTIONAL 2: If you want to kiss Dr. Habit, you may do so by taking another kiss from Jerafina before you go to sleep after you activate The End with Kamal. Then, when you find him monologuing outside the room, you may either kiss him before or after giving him the Lily. However be careful, because kissing him first and letting him fully talk and react to it will lock you into the Neutral End, so show him the Lily quickly after you kiss him.

[gotatext]

claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine. 

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years. 

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s 

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time. 

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate. 

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

 massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

 massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps.  i hate her

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy,  cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. 

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

[musikat18]

Workplace Romance (Chekov x Reader)

Pairing: AOS Pavel Chekov/Reader

Rating: PG for language and CHARACTER DEATH MENTION

A/N: Oh, Pavel Chekov, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Surprise, they’re all that he’s adorable and deserves love. I wish I could have done more today (curse an impromptu Texas highway drive with my dad), but I hope this is a good enough note to end things on. :)

You didn’t really have all the details, but you were sure someone would fill you in.

For one, you knew Admiral Pike was dead. That had been all over the news, and your faithful “self-proclaimed cool uncle captain guy” Jim Kirk had messaged you as soon as he had gotten himself to stop shaking and sobbing. Granted, you didn’t actually see him cry, but you knew how close the two had been. You would have been more surprised if he wasn’t broken at least a little. You also knew that there was a dangerous terrorist on the loose; you weren’t scared of an angry, pissy British guy, but Jim had warned you to be careful, so careful you would be.

“Sign off on the missiles, Scotty!”

And now, apparently, there were missiles.

“No specs, no signature!”

You didn’t always like eavesdropping, but this seemed to important to miss. After all, you were the auxiliary chief engineer. You had a right to know about this, since it pertained to work.

“прости!” 

You turned when a soft thing knocked against your shoulder; it was just Pavel coming aboard and passing by. You offered him a kind smile. You knew the boy your age was clumsy at times. Plus, he was exceptionally cute. That always helps.

“It’s okay, Chekov,” you said. You wanted to elaborate in hopes of spurring further conversation, but, as usual, the navigator spat out a parting word and left. Oh well. He probably had more important things to do than you, anyway.

Not like, do you, do you. Just...dinner would be nice. 

You were so engrossed in the presence of the cute navigator that you nearly missed your CO handing over his PADD and straight-up walking off the ship with Keenser.

What the fresh fuck?

You must not have been as quiet as you thought, because Captain Kirk beckoned you forward, “It’s alright, Lieutenant. I’m glad you heard it all here.”

“Sir, I’m still an ensign,” you pointed out.

“Then, congratulations on the promotion,” Jim handed you Scotty’s PADD. Your eyes bugged. “He said you were the only one he’d trust to take care of the ship. If there’s any way for me to make your transition smoother, let me know.”

You signed off on the missiles, first and foremost. If it was that big of a deal, you wanted to fluff your position up with a little job security.

“I think I’ve got most of it,” you said, and he walked along with you. “But I can’t do this on my own. I need a replacement me, and I need them fast.”

“I’ll send you a list of candidates, and you tell me who you want.”

You sighed as the captain headed up toward the bridge. 

Great. Just peachy.

Jim pursed his lips as he sent more and more requests down at you, though he was certain none of them would stick out. You were particular in your working style, something that many of those candidates would be apt to ignore. He needed someone who would respect you, and your work ethic, and be interested in helping you, and not mind spending all day every day with you, and also know enough to keep up after such an abrupt placement and- oh god he knew exactly who to send you.

He just...decided he would surprise you. After all, everyone likes surprises. And you would definitely thank him later, so he was sure you wouldn’t mind.

“Ensign Chekov,” Jim casually approached the navigation console as casually as James Tiberius Kirk can approach anything in life, “I understand you’ve been shadowing Mr. Scott and Ms. Y/L/N for a long time.”

“Yes, keptin.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but Mr. Scott has resigned from the Enterprise,” Kirk continued, noting Chekov’s shocked expression. “Y/N’s working all alone down there, and she could use a hand, which is why I’m making you the new auxiliary chief engineer. Go put on a red shirt.”

There were many reasons Chekov did not want to put on a red shirt- least of all being in such close proximity to death- but it wasn’t like he could disobey a direct order.

No matter how much being near you gave him butterflies, he couldn’t disobey a direct order.

“Aye, keptin....”

“Sir,” someone called to you, “warp core is functioning and stable.”

“Just keep the stupid missiles away from it,” you had your nose in your PADD, going over various extra suggested replacements sent to you from Commander Spock for the position of auxiliary chief engineer.

“What warp factor should we prepare for?”

“Send Lieutenant Sulu a notice and hopefully he’ll reply promptly enough that we’ll be fine.”

“The nacelles are overheating a little, sir-”

“What do you mean the nacelles are overheating?! We haven’t even moved!”

Now you understood why Scotty was always ready to fight someone.

“U-um…Lieutenant Y/L/N?” A small voice said from the antechamber. Your hair swished as you turned, surprised, to see sweet Pavel Chekov, looking nervous and out-of-place in a brand-new red shirt. “Keptin Kirk said that I was to report here as your auxiliary chief.”

Your first instinct was to bark at him for Captain Kirk’s impatience and snap-reassignment, especially of a boy as kind as Pavel.

Then it hit you.

Of course Jim would reassign Pavel Chekov to work so closely with you, that sneaky bastard.

“Alright, Mr. Chekov,” you took a breath. “Welcome to engineering.”

This was going to be interesting.

“What do you mean, there’s a coolant leak?!”

It had taken about an hour for something to go horribly wrong, and it was kind of stressing you out. Well, you supposed it didn’t help that Chekov kept floating a few feet behind you like a beacon of nerves and anxiety.

“One of the pipes has started leaking, sir,” an ensign said. “We’re trying to find the source.”

“Can you try faster?! We’re gonna end up stuck in Klingon airspace!”

“Yes, sir!”

“What can we try for now?”

You sighed at Chekov’s question. You knew there wasn’t much to be done until the leak was found; hell, you knew that he knew there wasn’t a barrel full of options. It had been unnecessary and oxygen-wasting questions for the last two hours, and you were up to here.

“We can pull out of warp from here, but that’s about it.”

“Can I help in any way?”

You were trying not to get frustrated with him. You really were, but a stressed engineer could only take so much.

“Chekov, honey, you just asked that with different words,” you tried your hardest to stay as calm as possible. “I’m really glad that you want to help, but what I really need for right now is for you to...not want to help.”

“Lieutenant Y/L/N, did you break my ship?” you heard Jim on the comm.

“I’M SORRY, DID YOU SAY SOMETHING, MISTER CAPTAIN ‘I’M-RECKLESS-AND-I-HAVE-NO-SELF-CONTROL’?!”

Your face was as red as your shirt. It was obvious to Chekov that you needed a break.

“I-I will look for the source of the coolant leak,” he offered. “May I bring you a glass of water, as well?”

His kindness in the face of your outburst floored you; embarrassed, your cheeks were flaring for a different reason, now.

“Yes, please,” you said quietly. “Thank you, Chekov.”

He nodded and left you to take a breather.

You had to admit, for being thrown into the most stressful part of the ship (second only to maybe the medbay), Chekov was handling this even more life-threatening development incredibly well.

Gravity disabled? No big deal.

Power weakened? Show him a panel and he can try his best.

Warp core destabilized? Okay, he’ll wait for you to work something out.

The ship’s crashing headfirst into San Francisco? Cool, he’ll roll with it.

You, on the other hand, were a ball of stress.

“Is anything still working in here?!” you snapped at an ensign; one of the handful left after the hull breach.

“Air conditioning?”

You were this close to actually throwing yourself into space.

Scotty had been wrong; you weren’t the proper replacement. You had too many things coming at you from all sides, and for all that had happened, Pavel wasn’t faring much better. There were only so many places he could be and so many things he could try to do; you were stretched even thinner than him, and he had already dissolved into a disheveled pile of curls and sweat.

This was really going to be it. Just you and the Russian rushing down to a catwalk where the captain and Scotty were about to fly off into space and HOLY SHIT WAIT A SECOND WHAT THE HELL.

You had to look again to make sure it was real: Chekov was the sole thing keeping Jim and Scotty from dying. Your heart was leaping for so many different reasons, it took a moment for you to transition from damn, he’s stronger than I thought, that’s attractive to oh shit they need help.

Of course, though, by the time you met them down a few flights of stairs, Chekov had them safely behind a boiler.

“Lassie, will you go flip the switch behind the reflector dish?” Scotty asked.

“I thought you’d never be around again to ask...come on, Pavel,” you pulled the out-of-breath boy along with you. The ground shifted underneath your feet, causing you to fall into Chekov’s arms and slide down an apparatus toward the reflector dish. 

“That was really cool!” you cried on the way down. “Where the hell did you get the guts to do that?”

“You,” he admitted, “mostly because you’re so incredible for being able to handle this place every day!”

“Well, it’s not exactly every day that we almost die!” You quipped as your boots finally hit the edge of the switch. It took you and Pavel together to lift the cover off and flip the switch. When the familiar whir of power came on, you couldn’t stop beaming. Pavel smiled happily at your blissful relief; god, you were so beautiful, even bruised from sliding around and covered in sweat and grease.

“So, I gotta ask, why not work down here full time?” you suggested.

“The bridge is...much quieter. No offense to engineering, but I prefer the cushier environment,” he admitted sheepishly. “Though, there are perks to working down here.”

“What, my charming personality?”

Chekov gathered up every ounce of courage in his body, “No, not entirely. Just being around you.”

You couldn’t contain your grin, and why would you? You two had just survived not dying horribly. Feeling bold, you pulled his face over and planted a kiss on his nose.

“It’s a shame, I like being around you, too,” you smiled, taking in his sudden flustered state.

“So...um...” he fidgeted when he realized he was now cradling you in his lap, “what now?”

“Dinner would be nice,” you offered.

“Aye,” Chekov grinned and noted the damage around you two, “especially since we will be grounded for a very, very long time.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you giggled.

Pavel pulled you into a hug, and you buried your face in his neck, more content than you’d ever been and certain that nothing, not anything in the whole wide world, could bring you down now.

Tagging: @impalaanddemons, @barbrichards

[lunakinesis]

What Was Left Behind

April 17th

School was cancelled today! Dunno what for, mom woke me up just to tell me not to bother getting up. Thanks, mom (not!). I'm pretty glad since school's so far away I usually have to be up and ready to go when it's still dark.  Price you pay for some fancy private school. Gonna spend the day playing Mario Kart. Mom said she was meeting dad. I wasn't really listening but it's weird, I'm sure dad had work today. Maybe they're meeting for lunch or something? Sucks that she didn't invite me then. Leftover mac'n'cheese it is then.

----

April 18th

School's still closed. Guessing there's probably some major repairs or something, never heard anything about a strike. Pretty weird. Though it could be the boiler. It's always the boiler with stuff like this.

Hang on, can hear hammering downstairs.

Um... Dad's boarding up all the windows? Didn't ask him why, he didn't seem to be in a good mood. There's a crapton of shopping bags in the kitchen too, been there since yesterday. Dunno why Mom hasn't unpacked them yet. Guess a bad storm's coming.

Must be why school's closed.

----

April 20th

Dad boarded up the doors too. Real thick, heavy pieces of wood. How bad of a storm could it be? Mom's been going up and down the stairs, saw her carrying all those plastic bags from the store. Shouldn't that be going down in the basement if a storm or twister is coming?

I'm scared to ask them, they've both been pretty snappy and just kind of off recently. I guess they could be anxious or whatever, but it's just so weird.

Shouldn't the storm have hit now?

----

April 23rd

I don't know what's going on. Mom and Dad brought just about everything they damn could upstairs. Dad started SMASHING the stairs. We're stuck up here, it's like they've both gone fucking crazy. I asked what the hell he was doing and he didn't answer me. Mom told me to go to my room, that they'd explain soon.

I watched them bring the furniture up. They used the couch and armchairs and half the damn house to make some kind of barricade at the top of the stairs

What the hell is going on?!

----

April 26th

Dad put blinds up at my window, matches the rest of the upstairs now. He told me to part them enough to let light in if I needed it, but never fully and to never take them down entirely. The neighbours must think we're going nuts.

Or they would if we ever saw them. Usually Marie's mom comes around three times a week to have coffee with Mom but I haven't seen her. Or anyone. You'd think they'd come over to ask if things were alright after seeing the house all boarded up. Everything's so quiet. I've only heard a couple of cars. No kids playing, no barking dogs or neighbours talking. Not even the mailman or an ice cream truck. The family across the road seems to be the only one's going about their business. I heard Mom and Dad whispering, Dad called them 'crazy idiots' and Mom said something about 'getting themselves killed.'

Just what is going on?

----

April 28th

I know. I know what's happening now. Everyone else probably does too but I'm writing this still just in case, and just for a sense of normalcy. If I can have that anymore. I haven't really been sleeping. Neither have my parents. One of us always has to be awake anyway. We're safe. But there's always a chance we couldn't be.

I saw them. Yesterday morning. Thought it was just someone drunk staggering home at first. Until I got a good lookk at them through the blinds. They looked like roadkill. That's the best way to put it: Foot hanging off, clothes torn and bloody, skin all discoloured and chunks of flesh missing all over their body.

I thought I was seeing things but then more and more started flooding down the street. The silence was broken by them. The sounds they make... God, it's going to haunt me for as long as I live. Grunting, groaning, snarling... like deranged wild animals.

Mom heard them too and she pulled me away from the window and shushed me. She didn't pull me out of my room fast enough for me to avoid seeing those things shatter the neighbour's windows.

I heard the screams.

I don't want to think about what happened.

----

May 1st

Haven't written in a while. Haven't had the focus. Everything's gone to shit. Power went out yesterday; thank god we have plenty of battery and crank-powered lanterns and flashlights. Dad had the sense to fill the bathtub and sink in his and Mom's en suite and the main bathroom before the water stops. We've filled everything else we can too, there's plenty of soda as well at least.

We've started doing our business in a bucket. Too scared to flush the damn toilet to get rid of our shit in case those things hear. For things rotting to pieces, they sure do have good hearing. Dad throws it all out into the backyard from the guest room window after checking to make sure none of them are wandering around. They haven't noticed we're here yet, we keep the curtains and blinds tightly closed at night and just barely have the blinds open during the day.

I'm lucky my parents were smart. Were prepared. We have supplies to last years providing neither those things or other people find us. My dad heeded crazy news stories like the over-prepared, paranoid nut he's always been, it's saved our lives. More than I can say for most of my neighbours.

----

May 3rd

I saw them. Our neighbours from across the street. The Stephensons. Or what's left of them. They looked like a pack of hyenas had been fighting over them. Bones showing, flesh and skin hanging and flapping about.

I took a peak out of my blinds when I went to get some books from my room and there they were, shambling around their front yard. Or Mr. Stephenson was anyway, his wife was out on the street, chasing after a bird that had long since flown out of her reach.

They had a daughter. She was only three years old. If this is what those things did to her parents, I can't imagine there's anything left of her.

My stomach flips just thinking about it.

----

May 7th

I'm sick of the taste of spam.

----

May 10th

Mom cried all last night. We might be safe in here so far, but being confined to the upper floor of our house leads to some cabin fever. We expected relatives to come trying to find us, but no one has. The realisation of what's probably happened to them is finally sinking in. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins... Most of them are probably dead or worse, roaming around eating anything in sight. We can hope at least one of them is safe somewhere, or at least alive.

But it's a slim, fruitless hope. Grief's hit and Mom isn't doing so good. Dad's quiet. Real quiet. Always has his gun and a baseball bat with him too. Watching and listening in case our safe haven is breached. I don't like to think about that.

But I do have to wonder if we'll always be safe here. Will this nightmare ever pass. More and more of those monsters swarm the streets. I don't even know how many people are left alive. A gigantic swarm of them passed by last night. I don't know how none of us screamed.

We couldn't see them, but god we could hear them. A cacophony of shuffling feet, bangs against cars and their haunting, blood-chilling groans. It was deafening, there must've been hundreds of them, mindlessly marching in search of food they don't even need.

I don't know how this started, how the government did nothing about it... if they're doing anything about it now. Shit, that's if there's anyone left to do anything about it.

I'm probably going to die in this house. Mom, Dad and me. If those things don't get in, we'll starve to death waiting for a heroic rescue that won't come even years from now.

----

May 15th

Heard crying for help outside. The guilt I feel for having to ignore it to keep my family safe is eating me up.

The cries died down to screaming and gurgling. You can't be loud, they hear everything. You'd think people would get that by now.

They didn't eat all of her. She got up and walked away when they were done. Her intestines were hanging out.

I threw up.

----

May 19th

One stumbled into our backyard today. Dad couldn't throw the shit bucket out. House stunk as bad as I imagine those rotters do.

Mom slept all day. I don't think she's doing too good. Nothing Dad or I do consoles her. She barely talks to us, barely reads or plays games. Me and Dad have to take turns taking watch since we're worried Mom might space out or fall asleep.

----

May 24th

Mom's gone mom's gone mom's gone mom's gone mom's gone mom's gone. MOM'S GONE.

She took Dad's gun when we were asleep. He only shut his eyes for a minute. He was so bone tired. We've only been shut in here a month. I don't know why she'd do this to us. We were safe. We were together.

Those things heard and they've been gathering outside.

Dad put Mom's body in the guest bedroom. There's blood everywhere. There’s bits of Mom everywhere.

I'm scared.

----

May ?

Banging and groaning. Banging and groaning.

All day, all night. Stuff my ears to sleep but it's so loud. I hear it in my dreams.

Scared I'm going to wake up to one of them standing over me.

Mom's starting to smell.

----

June ?

So hot. House stinks of rot. From Mom and those things. Still there. They don't give up. They don't get tired, they don't need to sleep or breath or drink or eat. Even though they eat us.

Being as quiet as I can. Dad too. He sits with his gun trained on the upstairs hall. Watching and waiting. The glass downstairs shattered days ago. Don't know which room. But it's boarded up good and tight. Don't know how long the wood will hold out.

There's so many of them out there.

It's awful but. I hope someone passes. I hope someone makes a noise. They'll leave then. Go on to where they can find more prey.

Dad and I will be safe then.

Don't know what we're going to do about Mom.

----

June -

THEY'RE IN THEY'RE IN THEY'RE IN THE WOOD SNAPPED.

CAN HEAR THEM CRAWLING THROUGH THE WINDOWS, SNARLING AND CLIMBING OVER EACH OTHER.

CAN'T GET UP THE STAIRS BUT THERE'S SO MANY OF THEM.

DAD GAVE ME THE BASEBALL BAT. DON'T KNOW IF I CAN USE IT. I THINK I SAW MARIE OUT THERE BANGING ON THE WINDOWS DAYS AGO. WHAT IF SHE'S STILL THERE?

I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN DO IT. EVEN IF IT'S NOT REALLY HER ANYMORE.

----

June -

Dad had to shoot. They were climbing over each other to get up the stairs. Noise drew more of them. I can't hear myself think or their endless snarls and moans. All day. All night.

Can't sleep. Head hurts.

Mom stinks. The smell of them all made me sick. Covered in my own puke.

Dad's running out of bullets.

How could you do this Mom? You've killed us too.

They're starting to climb over one another to get up the broken staircase. Massive writhing worm of rotted bodies. Dad's crying. Shooting them just brings more but he can't risk hitting them down in case one grabs him.

He's giving me a knowing look. I think I know what he's planning. I'm so scared.

But this is better.

I don't want to be one of them.

----

March 3rd, three years after the end of the Walking Plague.

I am merely a witness to the clearing programme, a writer following along to document the actions of soldiers and civilians who volunteered for this duty, and to write of all traces of those who once lived in the many places we liberated from the dead.

This journal was found amongst the ruins of a town during the military clearing process. The possession of an adolescent and thus, not so thorough or factual as scientific, medical or government documents, but of equal importance. This and the countless artefacts like this have given us a glimpse into humanity following the outbreak. They let us remember them and their suffering. Let us remember what we have lost and what we must never lose again.

The journal was found tucked away under a bed, on top of which were the largely skeletal remains of a woman. Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head, we can gleam from the journal entries that this was pre-infection. A sorry case, or in her despair she doomed her family where they might have all lived. Such tragedies were commonplace throughout that eight year struggle.

The body of the father was found on the floor of the same room. He too lost his life to a gunshot wound to the head, from the final journal entry this seems to have been self-inflicted, done to avoid becoming one of the undead. Most of his soft-tissue was devoured after death.

One thing has been troubling me greatly. There were no traces of the family's daughter.