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minustwofingers · 1 year ago

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exoplanet part 7

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

series masterlist (read parts 1-6 here!)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: stuck up awful rich people. mentions of: abortion (sowwy ** i can't write kids), homophobia, throwing up, general awful elitism, heavy drinking, implied minor character death, and we talk about stuff like unethical labor practices/basically slave labor. depictions of: violence, guns.

a/n: hey yall....sorry for taking literal months to write this. and sorry in advance for what you're about to read, since this is admittedly a little far removed from tlou. and i'm also sorry if this isn't what you guys are expecting—i know i made you wait a long time for this, so it was tough for me to finally get around to posting because i didn't want to disappoint anyone. also it was just sooo sad writing the last scene because i just didn't want it to end!! anywayyyy enjoy

wc: 14.6k (i know...i know...)

tags: @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28 @sugarqueencosmos @iriswalrus @chiao1209 @lovecaraya @thatgiraffefromtlou @alwayslongingforyou @thelastofshimmer

May 16th, 2029

Welcome to AskAI! Enter your questions below and I'll try my best to answer :)

How does Cordyceps spread?

Ophiocordyceps unilateralis is mostly commonly spread between humans by the medium of bodily fluids, though this was not always the case. In the early stages of the outbreak, most carriers were infected by the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores in flour from a Jakartan mill. It is still unclear how the contamination occurred.

Is saliva included in bodily fluids that carry Cordyceps?

Yes, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva. Other bodily fluids include blood, feces, mucus, and semen.

So if someone were to kiss someone infected with Cordyceps, would that person be infected too?

Yes, because Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva.

How long would it take before seeing symptoms?

If Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores were to be introduced to an individual via mouth-to-mouth transmission, the approximate incubation window has been recorded to be no longer than 8 hours.

How long would it take to be detected by a standard testing device?

Our testers would detect the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis within an hour after exposure. Note that this only refers to the conditions outside of Terranova. There has never been a detected case of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis in Terranova’s history.

Thank you.

You’re welcome! Please leave feedback on the AskAI Feedback Form if you have any ideas as to how I can improve <3

One year later

“And there’s no way we can skip?”

“You know the rules.”

Dina rolled her eyes and sighed as you two stood at the door of your parents’ penthouse, waiting to knock. “Maybe if you went and I said that I was sick or something.”

“They’d know you were lying.”

“They’d probably be happy if I missed dinner.”

“I don’t know if happy is something they can be,” you said. You tried to make it light and joking, but it came out with the heaviness of truth. “Plus, they’re not exactly thrilled with me either.”

“Not exactly thrilled” was the understatement of the century. Ever since you’d come home with a pregnant outsider toting a gun and covered in dirt, your parents had convinced themselves that you’d somehow become corrupted over your time living outside.

But Dina had it way worse. Your parents were so scandalized by her rugged ways and the fact that she’d gotten pregnant out of wedlock that they’d nearly fainted upon realizing you were advocating for her Terranovan citizenship.

You both had had the good fortune of avoiding any further tense interactions with them for the last few months, but that morning you’d awoken to an email that contained an invitation to their home for dinner. It was noted that Dina had to attend.

So here you two were. Dressed in uncomfortable, stiff clothes and nervously twiddling your thumbs.

“You’re going to be fine,” you promised Dina. It sounded like a lie. “I’ll do most of the talking, okay?”

“If you say so.”

You rang the doorbell.

It took just a few moments before the door swung open.

“Hi Chris!” you greeted, plastering a smile on your face.

Your family housekeeper smiled back with a neutral warmth. She looked slightly thinner than you remembered when you saw her last just a few months ago. “Hello. Miss Dina, please remember to keep your shoes on this time.”

Dina flushed bright red. The last time she’d come over for dinner, she’d taken her shoes off and had been given a very stern lecture by your mother about how improper stockinged feet were for dinner. “Of course not, ma’am.”

You sent her an apologetic look and stepped inside.

“Your parents are in the sitting room,” Chris told you as she took your coats.

You thanked her.

“Why don’t they ever come up to greet us themselves?” Dina whispered to you.

You shrugged. “No clue. They just never have. They probably don’t want to have to take a break from whatever stimulating conversation they’re having about the country club happenings.”

She snorted. All of a sudden, you were overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude for Dina and her spirit. After your family had essentially decided you were hopeless, family get-togethers had become torture. Dina was your lifeline.

As Chris had said, your parents were found lounging in the sitting room, your mother fanning herself with one hand and holding what looked to be a gin and tonic in the other, your father sitting across from her in a tastefully worn armchair.

“Girls,” your mother greeted. Her eyes looked flinty and flat. “How good of you to come. I was worried you’d lost your way.”

It was a classic Y/L/N insult for latecomers, but it was barely a minute past 6:30.

“The elevator wasn’t working,” you offered. “We had to take the stairs.”

“Hm. Well, come and sit. Petra can get you a drink.”

A tall girl who couldn’t have been much younger than you was standing at the other end of the room next to the bar. She had bright ginger hair that stood out starkly against the neutral beige of her uniform and a small, squatty nose. You’d never seen her before in your life.

“Is she new?” you asked.

“Who, Petra? Oh, I think so. It must’ve been…oh, I’m not sure. This March, I believe? What do you think, darling?”

“Around then.” The solid ice globe slid against the glass with a clink as your father answered, taking a long pull of his bourbon after.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Dina politely.

Your mother let out a labored sigh. “Dear, I’m very glad to see you working on manners, but there’s no need to engage with the help.”

Dina didn’t answer, instead sending you a meaningful look.

“Well, not usually,” she continued. “Though it is appropriate to interact with them in matters that are considered strictly business. Take, for example, the fact that neither of you have managed to order a drink yet. Petra, come.”

You stared at your hands, folded tightly in your lap. If there was anything you hated more than your parents, it was how they treated the help. And, though you’d never say it out loud, you didn’t understand how two middle aged adults needed more than one full-time housekeeper on hand. Chris made sense. Petra was entirely unnecessary.

“We really don’t need anything,” you said to Petra when she was in front of you, looking rather pale. “But thank you.”

The tension in the air refused to dissipate, not even when you were relocated to the dining room and had the crutch of picking away at the three courses served to you.

Dina, having been thoroughly scolded by your mother the last time she dined with her, was clinical in choosing which utensil to use for each course.

Your mother babbled on and on about the country club and the book club. Your father occasionally butted in with a few dull, lifeless comments. There was something especially dead in his appearance, like he was running on zero sleep.

“You may be curious as to why I asked you two here today,” your mother said after the main course plates had been cleared. “First of all, I wanted to extend my congratulations to my daughter for graduating in just a few days.”

“Thank you,” you said stiffly.

“And more importantly—”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“—I wanted to announce that your father will finally be retiring,” she said. “He’s been working so hard for the last few years. Isn’t this wonderful?”

“That’s really great, Father,” you said, feigning a smile to hide your confusion. You hadn’t known that your father had even worked, much less hard enough to warrant a formal retirement.

“Thanks, dove,” he said.

“When’s your last day?” you pried, wondering if you could manage any more information out of him.

“This Friday.”

“Hm.” So much for that. You exchanged glances with Dina as Petra reappeared with a tray of small goblets filled with colorful globes of sorbet.

“You’ll both be expected to be in attendance at his retirement party,” Mother added. She was frowning deeper now.

“Even me?” said Dina.

“Yes.” She smiled tightly. “And please note that they’re unaware that we helped you through your…little problem. I can’t imagine why that would ever come up in conversation, but I would really prefer it didn’t.”

“Uh huh,” responded Dina, her eyes wide.

When Dina had arrived, your family had given her two options—have her child and give it up for adoption, or terminate the pregnancy then and there in secret. Refusing to comply would lead to your parents being entirely unwilling to sponsor her citizenship as it was far too unseemly to be an unmarried mother. Though it was clear your parents thought she was devastated by the prospect, she’d confided in you later that she hadn’t realized that that had been an option for her. She’d taken the second option without a second thought, telling you that she didn’t feel ready to be a mother.

The unfortunate part of it all was that your parents held this over her head on occasion, using it as leverage to make Dina feel like she owed them. Hence why she never felt entirely comfortable with telling them off.

That your parents had kept the abortion a secret was hardly a surprise. Abortion was one of those issues that no one liked to talk about. Though it wasn’t the hardest procedure to get, it was never publicly discussed. You’d never personally known of anyone who had gotten one before, but the clinic had been so full when you’d attended with Dina nearly a year ago that you were beginning to second guess that fact.

“Anyway,” said your mother lightly, “Darling, have you heard anything from the Thompsons recently?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t seen Richard in quite some time.”

“It’s funny you say that. Melanie was supposed to host the Garden Club party last week, and you’ll never believe what happened.”

“What, honey?” Your father stared dully at the tablecloth, entirely unengaged.

“When I stopped by, the rest of the girls were already there,” your mother said. “Just sitting out in front of her building looking very confused. I walked right up and asked what was going on—you know, now that I’m co-president, I need to keep things in order—”

“Yes, honey.”

“—And Angie tells me that they’ve been ringing her for ten minutes and she hasn't answered. I decided to give her a call, and straight to voicemail. So we all sat out there until it started raining. We never even got an apology text.”

“Oh,” said your father, looking a little more engaged. “Is that really?”

“Yes,” your mother said. The attention made her sit up straighter. “It absolutely was. It was incredibly inappropriate. I couldn’t believe it. And to think that she stole that hosting spot from me…”

“Do you know if she’s alright?” your father asked,

She shrugged. “I should hope not. That’s the only excuse she could have for what happened.”

“Hm.” Your father moved the melting sorbet around without clinking his spoon to the crystal. “It seems that quite a few of us have been dropping off the face of the Earth.”

“It must be because of the long winter,” you said diplomatically. “Too much darkness makes us all a little loony.”

Your mother raised a brow and hummed in assent. “I suppose so.”

“Is that why groceries are so expensive now?” you asked. It had become a new development. About 6 months after you and Dina had returned, the prices on the shelves had rocketed upwards.

“Something like that,” your father said vaguely.

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N,” your mother warned.

“It’s alright, dear,” your father said, waving his hand. “It’s really nothing interesting. Supplying this city has always had its challenges. This year just happens to be especially hard.”

“What kind of challenges?” pried Dina.

“Shipments are always difficult to orchestrate,” he said. “As is quality control. It’s nothing that we haven’t seen before. Prices will go back to usual within a few months. The pendulum always has to swing back.”

It was a saying he always used—the pendulum analogy.

Dessert wrapped up quickly. Your mother gave you the official date for your father’s retirement party and ironed out your graduation details, and before you knew it you and Dina were off into the night.

“Thank fucking god that’s over,” said Dina as you two trotted down the street to the metro.

“Tell me about it.” You zipped up your jacket to ward off the slight chill in the evening air. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with all of that. I appreciate you coming with me. I know they’re awful to you.”

“Well, they’ll be worse if I don’t go,” she responded, her eyes cloudy for a second. She was right. One misstep and they could have her citizenship and their financial sponsorship rescinded.

“True,” you conceded.

The metro was bustling with people as you and Dina hopped on to the yellow line that would take you to the university residences. It was modeled right after the Parisian metros, with its Art Nouveau signs and themed stops. There was only standing room, so you two clutched onto the stainless steel poles in the middle.

The doors made a groaning sound and a speaker crackled as the announcer came on.

“Doors closing. Please stand clear of the exits. This is an express train with service to University Park. Other stops include 25th Street and North Village. There will be no evening service to Rotingham.”

You and Dina seemed to come to an unspoken agreement to remain silent and process the hell that had been dinner with your parents as the train lurched forward into motion. You closed your eyes and would’ve rested your head against the handrail had it not been so gross.

The only fortunate thing about your parents was the fact that they were incredibly easy to get to, despite living on the other side of the city from the university. What would’ve normally taken 40 minutes with transfers was cut down to 15 with the use of an express train that ran right from the station outside of your apartment.

You had resolved to just sit in silence when the train came to a screeching halt.

Your eyes shot open, meeting Dina’s confused gaze.

The lights above flickered, then sputtered out to leave you in darkness.

There was a hushed silence amongst everyone in your train car.

“What’s going on?” Dina whispered to you.

“This happens sometimes,” you said quietly back, but it was sort of a lie. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for the lights to go out, but you’d never had it happen in tandem with a train stopping on the tracks before reaching a station. And especially not an express train…

The lights flickered on again, and there was a shared sense of relief as a few of the train’s occupants let out a shaky laugh.

“Thought we were going to have to walk!” said a ruddy looking old man sitting across from you. The car responded with polite chuckles.

“Apologies for the delay,” came a voice over the loudspeaker—a human voice, not an automated one. “There was a disturbance on the tracks that had to be dealt with. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. Service will continue as usual.”

The train lurched back into movement, the dark walls of the tunnel moving past in a blur.

“That was weird,” Dina remarked once you two had gotten to your stop and were walking up to ground level.

“Yeah,” you said, frowning. “I didn’t want to tell you then because I didn’t want to freak you out, but normally express trains never stop, especially not at this time of night with less trains in service.”

“What qualifies as a disturbance on the tracks?”

“I have no clue,” you confessed. The sun was hovering just barely over the horizon, its last rays of light reflecting aggressively off of the skyscrapers in the distance from which you came. “Someone probably dropped something big like a suitcase onto the tracks and blocked the way. It happens.”

You were purposefully avoiding the elephant in the room—that it had probably been a person on the tracks. It wasn’t especially common—not nearly as common as you heard it was in places like New York before the outbreak—but it happened on occasion. Terranova wasn’t the best place for everyone.

“The Thompsons are Simon’s family, right?” Dina asked you. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the cheerful chatter of fellow university students socializing and drinking on the green next to the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” you said. You and Dina had occasionally hung out with Simon since returning. You noticed that Simon had really taken a liking to Dina, but neglected to mention it since his parents were actively attempting to arrange a marriage between him and some girl in the Art History program at your school. “Have you talked to him at all? I haven’t heard from him for a week or so.”

“Me neither.” Dina tightened the dark braid that fell over her shoulder as she walked, looking rather troubled. “I didn’t realize his parents were missing.”

“They’re probably fine,” you said. “I seriously wouldn’t worry about it. There’s nothing here that could hurt them.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I just forget that there’s no infected here sometimes. Like, tonight, I thought I was gonna have to start swinging on someone in the train when the power cut.”

“God, same.” You shivered. “It’s weird to know that we don’t have to worry about that anymore. But I think it’ll get easier with time.”

“Yeah,” said Dina, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Well, I’m going to text Simon and see if he’s alright. Or maybe call him. I’m sure he’ll know what happened.”

“Let me know what he says.” You’d ascended the steps up to your shared apartment and were slotting the key into the keyhole. “By the way, did I ever formally invite you to my graduation?”

“Not that I recall.” Dina followed you in and kicked her shoes off.

“Well, consider this your formal invitation,” you said, turning to grin at her. “It’s this Saturday. Be there or be square.”

“Will there be free food?”

“And anything you want to drink,” you told her, though you weren’t entirely sure of that fact. You’d only ever been to one graduation in your life, and that had been years before it was socially acceptable for you to drink anything beyond the odd glass of watered down wine—but you recalled a memory of particularly free-flowing champagne flutes being passed around.

“Consider me sold.”

You had to be going crazy. There was no way.

You entered the numbers back into the graphing software again. Then again. Then one more time, just to be sure you were seeing what you were seeing.

“Everything going alright over there?” asked old Professor Gunther, looking up from his grading and his steaming cup of tea.

“Um—” You blinked, hard, then looked back down at your calculations. “Professor, can you look at these for me? I think I must’ve made a mistake.”

“Of course, my dear.” He graciously accepted the notepad full of barely legible numbers that you came up to hand to him and adjusted the glasses on his face so he could squint more efficiently. “And what is this exactly?”

“I’ve been parsing through the data on that star—that K star you’d been watching for a while—and, um, I’ve noticed something.” Your voice shook nearly as much as your hand as you pointed to the scribbled numbers. “Can you, uh, graph these? And put them into a different program than StarBlast? And look at the spectra? It’s giving me what I think is—actually, I don’t know. You do it and I’ll show you what I got.”

“I’m confused about what you could have possibly done wrong,” he said, though he was already opening his own laptop and starting up a different program that you hadn’t used before because of how much you hated the GUI. “Did you try to parse it by hand to check?”

“Yes,” you said. “Horrible idea. Took me forever.”

“And you got the same result?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” He took off his glasses to wipe them off, then began typing in the data you’d emailed to him earlier for bookkeeping purposes. “Let me see what I have.”

The agonizing few minutes it took for him to enter him already had your mind spiraling with possibilities as the implications sunk in. If you were right—if this was right—everything was going to change in your field.

The spectra graph roared to life.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard your professor say. “Is this—”

“I think so,” you said. “I think so.”

What you two were looking at held more than one piece of crucial information. The first was nothing but basic calculations of a Doppler Shift that detected that there was a planet. Your calculations estimated its size at roughly the same as the Earth, with a similar orbital period and distance from its star that placed it in the habitable zone.

That wasn’t anything earth-shattering. There were plenty of Earth-sized planets in the habitable zone, implying that if the conditions were right, there was an environment conducive to organic life.

What was, however, were the spectra emissions that you were staring at, slack-jawed and skin prickling.

“Methane,” you whispered. “And oxygen. And phosphine.”

And not just a little—enough that it suggested biological processes that could only occur with the presence of life.

“I think you should finish writing this report,” Professor Gunther finally said.

You froze. “What?”

He turned to you, his glasses sliding down his bulbous nose and a kind smile on his face. “I’ve made enough discoveries in my life. This one is yours to claim.”

You were overcome with so much gratitude that you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

Gunther good-naturedly patted your back with the enthusiasm of a grandfather being pestered by his grandchildren. “This is your moment. Take it.”

“Thank you,” you said, pulling back with tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He smiled again. “It’s truly my pleasure. I feel lucky to have had a student like you.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to start crying.”

“We can’t have that,” he said, standing up and handing you back your sheet of calculations. “You have work to do.”

You settled back into your work across from him, nearly buzzing with excitement as you finished typing up your findings. It would be a long process for the study to actually be published—long, painful, and undoubtedly draining—but it would be so worth it. You’d be the one who discovered a planet that (most likely) harbored life. For the first time in history.

Though you wouldn’t be publishing a paper any time soon, you still had to log the planet into the “global” (not exactly global given that there was no other place on Earth with the same technology as Terranova) database. And with that meant giving it a name.

In that moment, it was like time froze as the cursor blinked in the box. There was nothing but the blood rushing in your head, the dull hum of the fluorescent lights above, and the slight stickiness of the leather desk chair beneath you.

You gulped. It was standard in the department to name planets after the astronomer that discovered them. You’d never had a planet named after you before. You’d only ever crunched numbers that Gunther had given to you to analyze spectra emissions. This was the first time you’d ever actually discovered something that hadn’t already been logged before it had landed on your desk.

And yet…

You closed your eyes. Suddenly you were back in the meadow at Jackson, tracing the wisps of the Milky Way with your finger as you and Ellie talked about the constellations. You saw the childish excitement on her normally stern features when she held the moon rock for the first time. You saw the wonder in her eyes when you told her a new space fact that she’d never heard before. That she’d never had the opportunity to learn before.

Your fingers moved before you could stop them, quickly tapping out the name “Ellie” into the box and hitting the enter button.

For the rest of the day, you regretted it. You tried not to think of her anymore. It was something that you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do after you spent the entirety of last summer miserable and doing nothing but turning over the memories in your mind until Dina made you do something with her.

It was difficult. You wanted to put it in the past, because you couldn’t think about her without thinking about how she probably wasn’t even alive anymore. Which didn’t make any sense. Nothing ever made any sense about Ellie. Even before you predicted she’d been bitten, she’d already been behaving erratically—not packing her things, not saying a real goodbye to Joel, catching more food than their small group of three could possibly need near the end. It was like she knew that she wouldn’t be able to go.

Which didn’t make any sense, because why go all that way knowing that it was for nothing?

Which made you think about how bizarre she was before leaving. How sad she seemed when she told you that she was going, like even then she knew that it wouldn’t happen.

And you hadn’t gotten sick from her, even though you should have. She’d kissed you long after she would’ve been bitten. And you knew from your frantic research upon arriving that you should have tested positive when Simon checked.

So why hadn’t you? And why had she?

It was things like this that could keep you up for days if you weren’t careful. It was awful, but sometimes you liked to believe that she had really been sick and had died shortly after. You had a vision of her killing herself before fully turning, and even though it hurt to imagine it, it was the most humane end of them all. If she was dead, then maybe there was an afterlife, and maybe a piece of her was watching over you. Maybe she was still with you. Maybe she finally was able to rest.

You hoped that little piece of her had seen her name the first planet with life after her.

A tiny smile crept across your face, but inside you felt devastated. You were going to mourn her again all day, like you always did when something reminded you of her. And you were probably going to dream of her, of her stupid grin and the way her hair felt when it tickled your face.

Pull it together you thought glumly. You had to be normal for your father’s retirement party that night, and you had just under 4 hours to do so.

“Ugh,” you said, staring at your phone as you stood with Dina near the door, both of you dolled up and ready to go to the party.

“That’s how I feel too,” said Dina. “I’m going to kill myself if anyone brings up anything about how hard my childhood must’ve been and how I’m doing such a good job adjusting one more time.”

“Ha,” you said. “Mom just texted me to tell me that we need to stop by theirs first.”

“Why? Aren’t they already at the venue?”

“Yeah,” you responded, wrinkling your nose. “But apparently she forgot her gift for him—some vintage Rolex she got restored for him.”

“A vintage what?”

“Stupidly overpriced wristwatch,” you explained.

It took less time than usual to get to their building. Despite it being at peak busy hour, the platforms seemed eerily empty.

“Is there some holiday going on?” Dina asked, sitting across from you so that you both had your own row of seats.

“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” you said, clapping your forehead with your hand. “Of course there is. That’s why my father held his retirement party today. It’s the first day of this festival that goes all week.”

“What’s it for?”

“I honestly don’t know the background,” you admitted. “Most people just use it as an excuse to get incredibly drunk. I think it has something to do with the founding. It’s, like, the only time that public intoxication is okay.”

“Damn,” said Dina thoughtfully.

“The trains will probably fill up on our way back,” you said, sighing. “Hopefully it won’t be too bad. Worst comes to worst we can walk.”

“It gets that bad?”

“There’s hardly standing room,” you said, recalling the last festival you’d been around for—the summer before you’d been catapulted to Jackson. “And it just reeks of drunk people. And you have to be really careful, because I hear the custodial staff has to work overtime to clean up all the vomit.”

“Gross,” said Dina. “And here I was thinking that it was just all being proper and mannerly.”

“Everyone has their limits,” you said lightly.

The penthouse felt just as oppressive as when you came for dinners, like you were walking into the lair of a dragon who was coming back at any moment. Chris was gone—likely participating in the festival herself—but you were surprised to see the figure of Petra bent in a corner as you entered, dusting the top shelf of their bookcase.

You and Dina politely greeted her before ascending the steps to your father’s office.

“Why did your Mom put it in here?” Dina asked as you began shuffling through papers to find the box that your mother had described over text.

“My father doesn’t work in here all too often,” you said, opening a few drawers and seeing no trace of the green and gold box. “He just uses it to file away things.”

“What does he do?”

“I actually have no clue,” you confessed. “He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t ask.”

“Do you want to see if we can find out?” Dina asked with a conspiratorial raise of her eyebrow as she motioned towards the filing cabinets. “Just a quick look. They’ll never know that we were here.”

You took a moment to consider. If Chris had answered the door to let you two in, you would’ve told her that you couldn’t, because she would definitely snitch if she knew. But she was nowhere to be seen, and Petra looked like she was busy enough downstairs.

“Sure. Why not.”

The first few cabinets held nothing interesting—just spending reports and copies of contracts that were written in legalese.

“It looks like he works with whoever supplies this place,” remarked Dina as you two skimmed the papers and saw records of contacts all over the continent, from the old continental US and South America, each detailing something boring about shipping dates and inventory.

But then came the third cabinet, with papers dated back before you were born with what looked like sketches of barren looking buildings and hand-scrawled notes.

“What are these?” you breathed, laying them out on the ground.

“I think…” Dina squinted. “I think that these might be manufacturing plants?”

“Oh?” You dug further around in the cabinet to see if you could find any further illuminating evidence.

“Yeah,” said Dina, staring as she began to flip through the pages already on the floor. “Holy shit, dude. This is…sort of messed up. Look at how small these living quarters are.”

You peered over her shoulder to see the architectural sketches of what looked to be more of what you imagined a prison to be. There were long bunks stacked on top of each other in what looked to be a never ending line, the mattresses barely even large enough to be considered twins.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you nearly leapt.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Petra. Her voice was low and raspy. You noted that it was the first time she’d ever spoken.

“Oh, uh—” You began to frantically gather the papers, hoping she hadn’t seen. Would she tell your parents? “Sorry if we disturbed your work. My parents, uh, they asked us to get something from—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.” You stared up at her steely green eyes, wondering what had compelled her to approach you and Dina. “Um, is there anything we can do to help you?”

“Don’t drink the bourbon,” she said, so quickly that it seemed to fluster her.

“What? Why?”

“Just don’t do it,” she said again. “Better yet, don’t drink anything except for the water.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling genuinely apologetic. “I’m not sure if I understand.”

Something crossed over Dina’s face, and suddenly something in her seemed to shift. Her features paled. She knew something you didn’t.

“I came from one of those places,” Petra said, motioning to the diagrams that you were staring at. “They’re not—they’re not somewhere you want to be. We all try our best to come here. That’s what they tell us, you know. Do well enough and you’ll get sent to where everyone gets to live a life of grandeur and luxury. But they barely send anyone, and when they do, they get shitty positions like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your understanding slowly grew. Of course. How had you been so stupid to think that wealthy people were ever going to have any of their kind work any real job?

“You two were the ones who came from outside, right?” Petra continued. When you two nodded, she crouched next to you. “And you were wondering what was going on with the prices?”

You nodded again, awestruck.

“Your Dad’s little spiel on it being about bad weather is bullshit,” she said, her words hard. “People are getting tired of this. They’re realizing they’re never getting out. You know what it’s like out there—it’s scary. It’s tiring. So many people get sick, so many die. So when people finally caught onto the fact that the work they’re doing is nothing but dressed up slavery and that their chances of getting out are basically zero, they start doing things to mess with the system.”

“Like contaminating the products?” Even as she said it, it seemed like Dina already knew the answer.

Petra just gave you two a long look.

“So that’s what he meant by quality control,” you said, the realization hitting you.

“Among other things.”

“How long do you think we have?” asked Dina.

“Not very long at all.”

“You guys can’t be serious,” you said, nervous laughter catching in your chest. “Do you seriously mean that Terranova isn’t going to be around for much longer? Is that what you’re saying?”

Petra shrugged and stood up. “Believe whatever you want. But from where I stand, it looks like there’s only two possible ways out of this situation. That is, unless you guys all become farmers.”

“I don’t think I’m following,” you said.

“Two options,” Petra said, sighing heavily. “Either we starve or we don’t. And the latter means taking a really big fucking chance on what we bring in.”

“But the system has worked for so long,” you said, more to yourself than anyone else.

“Too long,” she amended. “It was never sustainable. Maybe if you people had been okay with just eating native plants and wildlife. Maybe if you people were okay with changing your way of life. But no, you just had to have your fucking oranges from Florida and your coffee from South America.”

“Don’t lump me into this,” said Dina. “I just got here.”

Petra laughed, but it was a hard and sharp sound. “Well, chances are you won’t be here for long.”

“Hang on,” you said. “We’re still doing quality control inspections. The most likely scenario is that we’re going to have to cut down on imports—not that we’re about to go up in flames any minute.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” she said in that voice that told you that she thought that you definitely weren’t and didn’t see the point in arguing further. “Anyways, I’ve got to finish working so I can get home before dark. Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” you said. “And thanks for…not saying anything.”

It was a bit presumptuous considering that Petra hadn’t really given you any good reason beyond her word that she wouldn’t mention you lurking in your father’s cabinets, so you and Dina were thorough in carefully placing each file back into the correct place, just in case.

“Do you really think what she said is true?” you asked once you and Dina had located the watch and were on the metro once again.

Dina shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Look,” said Dina. “I know that this might be hard for you to hear, but I’m pretty sure this place lives off of what’s basically slave labor. If there’s any humanity left in the world, I would like to think that Terranova would eventually fall.”

You swallowed hard, then blinked. For a moment you thought you were going to throw up. “I never knew. I didn’t realize.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Dina’s voice was surprisingly patient. “You were a kid. But you’re not anymore, so it’s time to grow up and face the music.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either.”

The two of you fell into a silence as the train sped past empty platforms bathed in shadows and you thought and thought and thought.

There was just too much happening today. First Gunther’s lab, then Ellie, now your entire worldview toppling.

As the train windows continued to blur the background of the tunnels and empty stations, your mind spun with reflections of your childhood—of you enjoying simple luxuries that you didn’t realize came at the expense of others. That you didn’t even think to ask about. You’d mindlessly trudged along, eating your exotic fruits and drinking your expensive tea and wearing clothes built from indulgent fabrics just because you could. Even when Dina had asked where the oranges came from all the way back in Jackson, you hadn’t let yourself wonder. You hadn’t let yourself consider the possibility that it was anything less than the sanitized fairyland that you’d been brought up in—perhaps because you knew all along.

And that made it even worse.

Dina seemed to understand, sending you a few glances without prodding.

“Do you think we need to leave?” you asked, your voice just barely a whisper.

“Us leaving isn’t going to do anything,” Dina said, like she’d been expecting it. “And how would we even do that? It’s not like we can just charter a helicopter again to drop us off back in Jackson.”

Something twisted inside of you. “Oh, God. You’re right. We couldn’t even leave if we tried.”

And you might have to try, a sinister voice inside you whispered. What if Petra was right about the contaminated products? What if they missed something when checking imports?

You’d never been taught how quickly the fungus spread in the original outbreak, and you knew little about the normal amount of time it would take any sort of disease to infect the entire population. But you did know how densely populated everything was. How reliant everything was on a few strictly maintained channels, like public transportation.

It wouldn’t be hard for it to all come crashing down, really. It would just take the right place at the right time and—

“Don’t freak out, Y/N.” Dina laid a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll figure something out if it comes to that.”

You smiled at her, grateful that you didn’t even have to put your words into thoughts. “But if we can’t leave, what do we do? It’s not like we can just sit by and do nothing.”

Dina pulled her bottom lip under her teeth, worrying it before answering. “I don’t really think that we have a choice. Right now, at least. I don’t know if there’s anything that just the two of us can do.”

“I’ll find more,” you said. “I’ll talk to my professors—my friends at university—Simon—”

“Do you think that we’re the only two that know about this?” asked Dina. “Because I really don’t. Maybe your friends don’t. But anyone in the military and anyone who was around when this was founded has got to know. They just don’t care enough.”

Something slowly iced over inside of you as the implications sunk in.

Gunther had probably known. No, scratch that—he definitely did. He was an academic who had been in his 30s when the world fell apart. Any adult would have asked the same questions that Dina had upon arrival.

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure,” said Dina firmly. “Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Speaking of Simon,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “Did you ever get in touch with him? Is his family okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” said Dina. “He texted me back a bit ago. Said something about how he was just busy and that his family had been camping up in the mountains.”

You two faded into silence.

The retirement party came and went without much trouble. On the outside, at least. You were a mental wreck, barely able to keep it together as near strangers came up to you and expressed how much bigger you were since they’d seen you a decade and a half ago.

You noted with muted suspicion that Simon’s parents were nowhere to be seen amongst the crowd, not even by the lavishly decorated bar.

That night, you did dream of Ellie. It wasn’t the usual. Ellie wasn’t turning in front of you or bleeding or crying out in pain with a bite mark on her arm. She wasn’t yelling at you for failing her and letting her get bitten without even noticing. No; instead, she lay beside you in your meadow spot and talked to you.

And somehow that was so much worse.

“I named a planet after you,” you said, feeling hot tears pool at the seams of your eyes that you squeezed together to avoid sobbing. You knew you were dreaming. You always knew you were dreaming—seeing Ellie always seemed to prompt a degree of lucidity that was otherwise missing in your sleep.

“That’s really fucking sappy of you.”

“I miss you.” It came out like a compulsion, like you couldn’t stop it. “Are you here? Are you with me?”

“Y/N,” Ellie said, turning to look at you. The darkness made it difficult to see her whole face, but you could see the look of pity on her features in the gray-blue of the moonlight. “Of course I’m not here. Don’t be stupid. I’m dead.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re not. Like, if something happened.”

“Something did happen. I died.”

“Fuck you.”

She smiled sadly, and for a moment you thought her eyes looked more reflective than usual. “It’s not very helpful to think that way. And what can I tell you? I’m not even real.”

“I’d like you to try,” you whispered.

“Fine.” She sat up, pulling her legs into a lazy tangle as she looked at you. “What did you seriously expect, dude? You were never going to stay. I wasn’t going to go. If I hadn’t been bitten, I’m sure I would’ve orchestrated some way to get out of it. My family is back in Jackson. I liked you just fine, but you’re not my family. That shit’s deeper. Different.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. The sharp pain in your chest faded into a cold sense of familiarity. Then, because she wasn’t real and there was no reason to feel embarrassed about bearing your emotions:

“You feel more like family than anyone here.”

“Then that sounds like a you problem,” said Ellie, flatly. “I’m not gonna let you guilt trip me like this. Boo fucking hoo, you grew up richer than everyone else on Earth and had to deal with strict parents. Do you realize what actual, real problems are? What about the people who make your lifestyle possible, huh? What about them?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Then you’re fucking stupid.”

The tears were streaming freely down your face now. “I would do anything to be back with you. I wanted to stay. I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do with myself without you.”

“And I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

“Will you just say that you miss me too? You don’t have to mean it. I just want—I just want to hear it.”

“I can’t miss you. I’m not around anymore.”

Ellie watched as you curled in on yourself and sobbed so hard you thought you were going to be sick.

“You’re so weak,” she said after a few minutes. There was no venom in her tone. It was as if she was merely relaying something as inconsequential as the weather to you. “All you do is expect other people to care for you.”

Not real. Not real. Not real you repeated to yourself in your mind with growing franticness.

She wasn’t real. None of this was real. Ellie was never that affectionate with you, but this was another level. This was something personal.

“You said that being weak isn’t bad.”

“And you said that you were going to make sure I was going to get to Terranova.”

“And it’s not my fault that you decided to go gallivanting alone in the woods.”

“You could’ve tried harder.”

“I did as much as I could.”

“Sure you did.”

You bolted awake. The hair at the nape of your neck was wet with the slick of sweat. For a moment, you let yourself catch your breath, reorient yourself in your surroundings.

Your room. You were in your dorm room, with your space posters and your books. Ellie hadn’t been here. She hadn’t said that. You were okay.

A blaring noise jarred you as you realized that your alarm had made you wake up. Your alarm, because it was graduation day and you needed to be ready for a full day of festivities.

“Fuck,” you muttered, scrubbing your face with you hands. The last thing you wanted to do after this was have to see your parents and pretend like you like them for appearances.

She's gone. She's gone. She's gone you repeated in your head like a mantra. It was over. You shouldn’t have named that stupid planet after her, because she was gone and she always would be.

It would only be a matter of time until your parents would start asking you about your dating life, you realized as you brushed your teeth over the shiny white basin of your sink, the minty bubbles making your lips tingle. They’d been willing to entertain your reasoning of wanting to focus on your studies while you were at university, but you knew they’d been looking for prospective engagements behind your back.

It took you longer than usual to get ready, your mind wandering as you lingered in different corners of your apartment. You kept the lights off, opting to let the cool, gray daylight from the gloomy clouds wash the surfaces of your room.

“Hey,” said Dina, appearing from her own room and leaning against the doorframe.

“Good morning,” you greeted blandly, your attention on the necklace that just wouldn’t clasp around your neck.

“Looking spiffy,” she said. “By the way, did Simon say anything to you?”

“No.” You paused and turned to her, a frown on her face. As far as you were concerned, you really had no reason to be in contact with Simon beyond the general pleasantries.

“He just called me,” said Dina. “He seemed—I dunno. Like, weirdly frantic. He was saying that we need to stop by his.”

“His” was inconveniently on the opposite side of the city, even further past your parents’ place.

“Why? Pretty far for a short jaunt.”

“He was really insistent,” pressed Dina. Her long black curls were unruly, her skin sallow in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. She hadn’t been sleeping as well recently, it seemed, just like you since you’d spoken to Petra. “Maybe we should just stop by.”

“Did he say anything about why?”

“I tried to ask,” said Dina, frowning. “But the call dropped.”

“I hate how horrible service is in your room,” you said.

“Me too. Anyway, are we gonna see him?”

You shrugged. “I guess. We have some time. I’ll text him too just to see what’s going on.”

Dina was ready in just a few minutes, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over her shirt and stepping into her shoes.

“You look soooo cute,” she said, pinching your cheeks. “My little grad.”

You rolled your eyes, but the size of your smile ruined it.

For once in your life, you noticed that the university green outside of your apartment was suspiciously empty.

“Quiet,” Dina noted as you made your way to the metro. “It’s eerie.”

“People were probably partying all night,” you said. “Celebrating graduation and whatnot. I imagine everyone’s sleeping off a hangover instead of having to get up at the crack of dawn to voyage across the city.”

Dina held up her hands. “Gee. Sorry.”

The train was a little more populated. Some older Terranovans had newspapers cracked as they licked their fingers to turn the page. The silent hum of the train lulled you into another soliloquy as the tunnel plunged you into darkness.

You had to stop thinking about Ellie. You needed to move on, as awful as it was. You’d named a planet after her. She’d be forever remembered in the stars, and that should be enough. You didn’t need to keep dragging her memory behind you like a corpse, because she was dead and she was never coming back and she was—

On the platform?

Your mouth dropped as the doors of the train slowly rolled open to reveal a short girl with shoulder length auburn hair slowly ambling towards the platform. She was wearing a pale green short sleeve that had some sort of edgy spatter pattern on it—something that was very Ellie-esque. But something wasn’t…

It took you one breath to notice that neither of her bare arms had any tattoos. It took you another to see that what you had initially assumed to be a pattern was actually blood-soaked fabric formed from red rivelets that trickled from a wound on her neck.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, grabbing Dina’s hand. “Do you see—”

“Everybody run!” Dina screamed, leaping up from the train seat and dragging you with her as she bolted off the train and to the opposite exit.

The girl wailed and barrelled towards the train car, her eyes locking onto the nervous movement of the passengers. You froze. It was slowly becoming obvious that this wasn’t Ellie, from the slightly different set of her eyes to the unfamiliar button nose. But it was hard to not feel anything but sympathy for the monster before you. She was just a girl, probably younger than you.

“Fucking go, Y/N,” Dina snapped, yanking you harder and onto the platform just as Not-Ellie leapt onto one of the newspaper readers. “It’s not her.”

She didn’t need to tell you twice. In seconds you two had sprinted to the mouth of the stairs, feet pummeling against the pavement as the sounds of the carnage unfolding behind you followed.

You ran. You didn’t stop running, not even when the screams faded and you and Dina were blocks and blocks away, hidden in an alley. Not even when your lungs were so empty and sore that they felt like they were breaths away from breaking, not even when you were sure there was nothing left inside you.

Dina kept your pace, blindly following your lead as you darted in between streets and side alleys until you reached your parents’ apartment.

“Do you think there’s more?” you managed to whisper through heaving voices once you stood on the steps.

You and Dina hadn’t ran into anyone after the metro, undead or alive.

“Not here,” hissed Dina. “Inside first. Then we evaluate after we’re safer.”

For a moment, the phantom dread from your normal life spilled over and you were afraid of facing your parents. It was almost laughable—there were deranged infected hosts looking to eat your flesh roaming the streets, and you were worried about seeing your parents.

“I’d almost prefer out here, too,” said Dina, looking as if she’d read your mind.

The apartment complex was also empty and eerily quiet as you two ascended the steps. Dina had insisted that you took the stairs, pointing out that the elevator was far too risky.

“It might get stuck,” she’d whispered as she’d pulled you away from pressing the button. “Also—unnecessary noise.”

You nodded wordlessly, following her up the steps until you reached the top floor.

Still no one to be seen.

The spare key was still hidden under the flower pot, and the penthouse door swung open easily. You and Dina locked it behind you before dragging a small bookcase in front of it, piling on books until no one could physically break through.

“Sweep the apartment,” Dina said lowly, reaching over to grab the fireplace poker that was in the entryway. “Behind me until you get a weapon.”

For a few tense moments, you cowered behind Dina as she navigated you both into the dark, empty kitchen. Every breath that left your lips was shaky and uneven. Your fingers trembled around the handle of the butcher’s knife that you’d retrieved from the block.

Nothing was on the first floor.

Nothing on the second floor, either. There was no sign of your parents anywhere. By all accounts, it seemed that they’d just up and left for coffee. Which is probably what they’d done, given that your father had just retired and had nothing better to do.

“Fucking thank god,” you’d cried out once you’d swept the last room, collapsing onto the sitting room sofa. “Jesus Christ, Dina. What the fuck. I can’t believe I just—”

The words petered out as the adrenaline rush that had been keeping you at least someone composed dissipated, leaving you a shaking and inconsolable mess.

“We’re so lucky that we got out in time,” said Dina, her eyes blurry and unfocused.

You took a break from your crying to look at her. “What?”

“The doors close automatically,” she said flatly. “No motion sensor. If that girl had shown up any later—if we hadn’t noticed her in time—”

“We would’ve been stuck on the train with her,” you said, cold realization trickling into you. “Oh my god. That probably happened to the people on the train who weren’t quick enough.”

“Or didn’t know any better,” Dina added. “Didn’t you say that no one here really understands what the infection is? That it makes people hosts?”

Your heart dropped. “We’re so fucked. We need to get out.”

“Have a plane anywhere?”

“Oh, god, Simon,” you wailed. “He was probably—he must’ve known—his parents must have—”

“Let’s not dwell,” said Dina firmly, brushing her hands off on her pants. “Okay. Let’s take inventory of the situation. That girl likely wasn’t patient zero. Wherever she came from was around…8th street?”

You nodded.

“Right. 8th street, which is where the majority of non-student residential living spaces are. Chances are that if it wasn’t already, it’s all over that area. We came south, which is away from the most densely populated area and probably why we haven’t seen anyone else. We’re up high with what seems to be currently running water, no current activity in the building, and plenty of both perishable and nonperishable food.

“But this isn’t permanent. The power grid is going to fail soon, and plumbing is likely going to go next. And if we somehow make it long enough, any infected in the building are going to turn into clickers, and they’ll stop at nothing to get in. Our window is limited. If we wait to get out, they’re going to get stronger and grow in numbers. We need to play this right.”

“So what you’re saying is that if there’s any possible chance of escape,” you said, feeling the blood drain from your face, “That we need to take it.”

Dina nodded, her face hard.

“How long do you think we have until we have to make that choice?”

She winced. “Probably 2 hours ago. There’s likely enough infected scattered around the city after the metro incident that it’s all over now.”

Your stomach dropped.

“But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” said Dina. “It’s only going to get worse the longer we wait. So if that big fancy scientist brain of yours has any genius plans of how to get us out, please hurry it up and say so.”

“Well,” you said, your mouth dry as you brainstormed aloud, “We are at the southern tip of the city. We’re probably not all that far from the border. The problem would be getting across—and, of course, getting there in the first place. It’s designed to be deceptive so that raiders can’t find it.”

“We’re not going to cross the border,” said Dina. “We’re never getting across on foot unless it’s been destroyed. Simon told me about how it works. There’s quite literally zero chance unless we start tunneling underground.”

“So no crossing on foot,” you said weakly. “Noted. Well. Uh. Can you fly a plane?”

“Depends. Do you have one?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Come on, Y/N. Think. There has to be another option.”

Another option. Another option. Think, think, think…

Scientist brain. Science.

Like your degree. Like the lab you’d been working in last year. Like the ill-fated experiment that you’d scrapped after the university cut funding for it after your accident.

Like the time that you’d actually succeeded in inventing teleportation, even if it was accidental.

Like the contraption that was likely gathering dust in an unlocked lab room just a few blocks away.

“Dina,” you said, “I’ve got it. But I need you to get me to Gunther’s lab.”

The only good thing about today was the fact that Gunther’s lab, which was normally an inconvenient train ride away from your apartment, was in fact within perfectly reasonable walking distance from your parents’.

There were many bad things, though. Namely the infected now roaming the streets. And the plumes of smoke rising in the distance, suggesting that the Terranovan authorities were attempting to quell the issue the old-fashioned way.

With two knives and a pistol in your hand (you’d never been more happy to see something actually useful in your father’s antique collection), you were at least feeling more prepared to slowly creep back down the staircase of the building and out onto the streets.

For the first two blocks, everything remained uneventful. You and Dina stuck close to the shadows, being careful not to speak, make any noise, or bump into anything noisy.

Then a girl that looked somewhat familiar to you came stumbling around the corner, cloudy orange saliva dripping from her ashen lips. She locked onto you and began to excitedly chitter, her jerky movements becoming more pointed as she started approaching.

“Knife,” Dina whispered, flicking your arm once she saw you raise your pistol. “Too loud.”

It was your first kill without the help of a bullet. As the blade slid across the throat of the girl, you realized where you recognized her from—she’d been one of the students you’d tutored back in high school. You’d always liked her. Her name had been Liesel, and she was one of your best pupils. She’d been so bright. You thought she’d end up skipping senior year and just coming with you to college.

Not anymore. You tried not to think too hard about the look you’d seen in her eyes right as you severed her carotid artery—something human, something cognisant. You couldn’t cope with what that implied.

Did Ellie look like that? No, surely not. It’d been over a year. She was likely a clicker by now, her freckled face entirely swallowed by the spore shards. But was she still in there, like Liesel had been?

The next ones were easier—random men whose eyes remained flat and flinty even as you sent them to their ends. By the time you and Dina had broken into Gunther’s lab, you were splattered in blood and assorted mystery fluids.

The sterile building was empty and deathly silent. Each step on the tiled floor echoed, the fluorescent lighting painfully bright.

“Are there any workers in here usually?” Dina asked, her voice low.

“Rarely,” you whispered back. “It’s normally totally empty beside me or Gunther.”

“I hope you’re right.”

A long screeching that sounded like it came from a few doors down made you freeze.

“Let’s move,” Dina said under her breath. “I don’t want to find out who that is.”

Gunther’s lab was nearly just as you remembered it. The only difference was the missing files on his desk, which suggested that he’d taken his work home with him.

As you’d hoped, the prototype you’d developed in your third year was under a white sheet, almost entirely untouched.

“This is what sent you to Jackson?” Dina whispered in wonder, her fingers hovering over the wires but not daring to touch.

In actuality, it was a very small contraption, just transistors and gates and wires that crossed over each other like veins. It had been intended for use on laboratory rats. It’d never been sized to people. But if this was your only shot…

“I can’t remember exactly what Gunther and I did to—”

Scratchhhhhh.

Your blood ran cold. Something was outside the door.

“I’ll cover it,” said Dina, her voice firm. Don’t worry.”

And you wouldn’t—not when there was one zombie against you and Dina, armed to the teeth.

“Uh, anyway—” You blinked as you stared down at the mess of wires. “Technically what happened was it short-circuit—”

Scratch scratch scratch

You gulped. “Um, like I was saying, it short—”

Scratchscratchscratchscratch

To punctuate the point, the door creaked and shifted.

Dina pressed her finger to her lips as she slowly crept over to the door, standing on her toes to look through the thin strip of plexiglass that ran across the top of the door.

For a moment, you thought that she’d frozen. Then she quietly stepped over to the desk, snatched the pen Gunther had lying around, and scribbled something onto it. She handed it to you, her finger still posed over her lips.

7 of them. All big. I think they followed us from the street.

Just as you finished reading it, the doorknob began to turn, back and forth and back and forth against the lock.

Dina pulled the note from your fingers to scribble something else out.

Don't say anything. Noise will send them into a feeding frenzy. Door won't hold long. Do whatever you need to fix it and get us out.

You nodded, your heart crawling in your throat. If you couldn’t figure out how to fix this in time…Gunther’s lab was on the 6th floor.

There were only 3 bullets in the pistol—you’d checked. And a kitchen knife was fine when you were out on the street facing one infected at a time, but 7 in an enclosed space was different.

You probably weren’t going to get out of here alive.

Not unless you pulled it together right now.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to run through all possible ways to recreate the conditions that had sent you to Jackson. You needed that special iridescent wire, which you could see shoved into the corner. You needed a power source. You needed a working circuit board.

You had all of it. You could do this.

SIlently, you retrieved the spool of wire and began reattaching it to the board in the pattern you vaguely recalled from your work.

The lights flickered above, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from swearing out loud.

The power needed to hold. It needed to hold for just one more minute, just for a moment while you finished configuring the—

Your hand knocked the spool to the floor.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The thudding started slower but crescendoed into the sound of groaning wood as the infected outside began to pound at the door.

Dina waved a slip of paper in front of you with wide eyes that said Hurry the FUCK up!.

You sent her a desperate look back. Your hands were shaking so hard that it was a miracle you were even able to feed the end of the wire through the pliers to snap off the end. You dug your nails into the protective sleeve at the end to expose the tip of the wire.

The door held just until you plugged the wire into the input.

As it hummed to life, sputtering and sparking and shimmering in the air, the lights flickered once, then plunged you into darkness as the sound of wood splintering came from the door.

Someone—it was probably you—screamed as a crowd came barrelling through the door, all hunched shoulders and gaping maws.

Then you grabbed the hand of Dina and felt yourself tumble into nothingness.

The sky was clear and bluebell blue above you when you came to, your back pressed uncomfortably against the sun-warmed earth. Every part of you ached like you’d just been run over, just like it had that day one year ago that started it all.

You didn’t need to look around to confirm—you were certain of where you were. You just knew it.

A groaning sound made you shoot up, clutching at the pistol in your hand.

Dina was sprawled on the ground next to you, rubbing her forehead with her hands.

“We did it,” you said, astonished. “We actually did it. We got out.”

“And you launched us out to Jackson.” Dina was sitting up now, looking around with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ. Are those things coming with us?”

“I don’t think so,” you said blandly. Your hands were still shaking, just as they had in the lab moments before.

The backpack you’d packed with supplies lay strewn on the ground, covered in the dust of the clearing.

“Are we—”

“I think so,” you said. “Funny how it sent us to the same place it sent me. I guess we’ll never figure out how, though.”

“Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you acclimated to the bright Wyoming sun, the warmth of the air against your skin.

Your heart lurched as the implications sunk in. Now that you couldn’t pretend like Jackson had been some sort of distant memory, you were going to mourn Ellie all over again whether you liked it or not.

“It’s going to be weird without her.” Dina was apparently on the same page.

You choked back the sob that came up, rubbing your eyes angrily. You would not cry right now, not when you had more important things to attend to.

“She really did love you, you know,” Dina continued, also apparently oblivious to the fact that you were just barely holding it together. “Even if she never said it. I’ve never seen her like that around anyone. I hope you haven’t been beating yourself up over what happened.”

You sent her a tight smile. It was odd, talking about Ellie like this with her. You’d never had before. It was one of those topics that you both knew to just avoid. “I just hope Joel is alright. I can’t imagine how difficult that would be—losing two daughters just like tha—”

A twig snapping in the woods sent you into silence, your hand drifting back down to your pistol as you spun around.

For a moment, all you could hear was the breath that hitched in both your and Dina’s throat. Then a girl with short brown hair burst through the tree line, her gun set on you.

“Ellie?” you gasped.

She fell still, mouth agape and eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.

“Ellie, what the fuck?” said Dina, recovering much quicker than you. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I—” Ellie dropped her pistol so it pointed to the ground, staring at Dina incredulously. “What are you doing here?” Then she rounded on you. “What did you do? You promised to stay in Terranova.”

You couldn’t answer. You were just so starstruck that all you could was stare, taking in everything about her. She was certainly Ellie—with her stupid little flashlight on her backpack strap and her fern tattoo and the perpetual grumpiness etched on her face. It was strange to think that you could have mistaken anyone else for her.

“Well?” she pressed, stepping closer, her mouth in a hard line.

“Terranova fell. It’s gone. I did what I had to do to get us out.” The words came out quietly. Then, without thinking: “You’re alive.”

“Long story,” said Ellie. “I think the scanner was defective.”

“That sounds like a pretty short story.”

She stared at you with an expression of such odd devastation that you felt your heart drop.

Dina jumped to her feet and launched herself at Ellie, throwing her arms around her neck and laughing hysterically. “I can’t believe it. I just—I just—you’re alive. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Ellie, for her part, stood mostly still, awkwardly patting Dina on the back until she was released. “I’m glad you are, too.”

You tried not to feel jealous, but it was hard not to. Dina could jump into Ellie’s arms and tell her nice things like that without having to think twice because they’d always been friends. You did, because you weren’t sure if Ellie would want that anymore.

You didn’t try to touch her as she walked you and Dina back. She followed suit, not even trying to speak to you.

By the time you were walking through the walls of Jackson and waving to the gaping passerbys who were shocked at your return, you felt like you were going to be sick.

Ellie was alive. She’d never been dead, and you’d left her out here while you and Dina got to eat fancy Brazilian chocolates and Floridian oranges and artisanal bread. You’d been actively trying to forget her instead of trying to find her.

And now she was here, next to you. And she didn’t seem even remotely interested in you. But could you blame her? It had been a year. You’d left her to come back to Jackson all by herself. She didn’t have any reason to wait around for you. She’d probably found someone else. Or gotten back together with Cat.

And who were you to think that she’d even be interested in you if there wasn’t the guaranteed casualness from a definite end date?

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Joel appeared on the front porch as you and Dina approached with Ellie flanking you, his eyes wide.

“Joel!” you cried out, your angst briefly forgotten.

His eyes darted between the three of you, his face awash with shock. “Did ya just get sick of living there or something?”

You looked down and surveyed your outfit. You were clearly wearing something that was intended to be formal—a flowing graduation dress—but you were splattered with blood and viscous mystery substances and covered in a healthy layer of dirt. You’d clearly gone through some shit.

You were struggling to come up with a response other than “hey” when you were reminded of something you’d shoved into your bag while you’d been preparing to leave your parents’ penthouse.

Feeling smug that you’d managed to remember, you reached into your pack and fished around until you found what you were looking for.

“We just figured you’d be almost out of this by now,” you said dryly. The value-sized bag of coffee beans dangled from your fingers, its maroon packaging catching in the sun.

His face split into a wide grin as he shook his head in disbelief. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I guess I’ve got to tell Tommy that we don’t have to ration anymore. C’mon, let’s get you settled.”

Joel insisted that you move back into your old room instead of the vacant cottage down the street, which was equal parts touching and equal parts terrifying. Ellie lingered by the doorway as you unpacked, disappearing down the hall when you finally lifted your head from your few belongings to say something to her.

You let out a long, labored exhale, dropping onto your bed and curling your knees up to your chest. You’d since changed and showered the dirt and blood off, shed your tattered graduation dress and left it gathered in the corner like a snake’s molt. The setting sun filtered through the curtains, turning the walls golden.

You didn’t know what to do. That you could even come back to Jackson had been a thought you hadn’t dared to consider until this morning, when there were no other options. That Ellie was still alive—well, you hadn’t had any time to strategize or plan for that one. You were still reeling from seeing her for the first time in a year, all summer freckles and flyaway hairs escaping from a loose hairband.

She’d looked even better than you’d remembered. There were certain parts of her that you realized you’d forgotten—like the scar on her eyebrow, the way her voice sounded. It made you feel nauseous, knowing that despite your best efforts, you hadn’t been able to keep the real Ellie alive in your head.

You’d already eaten something with Tommy and Maria, who had been insistent on hearing from you and Dina about the events in Terranova. Joel had left you to your own devices with instructions to see him tomorrow to figure out work after you’d had a decent rest, so there was really no reason to go roaming around hoping to run into Ellie.

But you really wanted to. You checked the clock again, seeing that it was already past 9. Dusk had already fallen upon Jackson, the setting sun now just a suggestion of a golden line on the horizon.

You had a feeling you knew where she was.

The meadow was just as lush and green as you remembered as your feet carried you across the grass. It seemed that really nothing had changed—except for the horses in the distance, where you could see a small foal beside a chestnut mare that you were pretty sure was Shimmer.

“Hi,” you said, settling down next to Ellie’s spot under the tree.

If she was surprised to see you, she didn’t show it. She just sighed and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on the darkening sky. “I just wanted to come find you to tell you that I understand if you don’t—want me like that anymore. I’ll leave you alone if you want me to.”

Even when she took her time responding, you didn’t dare look her way.

“Is that what you want?” You couldn’t quite decipher the tone she’d used.

“Obviously not,” you said mildly. “I would never want that.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze dropping to meet hers. You were just about to speak when—

“The scanner wasn’t defective,” said Ellie. Her voice was soft, her own eyes falling to look at her tattooed arm.

“Of course it was,” you said, feeling very confused as to why she was suddenly detouring into something so unrelated. “If it wasn’t, you’d be dead already.”

“I’ve been bitten twice.”

You blinked, sure you’d heard her incorrectly. “Sorry?”

“I’ve been bitten twice,” said Ellie again, this time with more conviction. “That’s why the scanner came back red. There was nothing wrong with it.”

“Then how…” Your words trailed off.

She didn’t let you ponder long. “I’m immune.”

Immune.

You closed your mouth—it’d been hanging open unceremoniously for a moment—and tried to fit this very startling fact in with everything else you knew about her. What did being immune mean? And why was she telling you now?

“You knew from the start that you couldn’t come with me to Terranova,” you realized aloud.

Ellie was gnawing at her bottom look as she looked back at you. You noted that she didn’t offer up any corrections.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice. “Why did you lie to me like that?”

“I found out that I was immune when I was back in Boston,” Ellie said, the words spilling out of her. “I was in this abandoned mall with my best friend—Riley. She told me she was leaving to be a Firefly, and I begged her to stay and kissed her and for a moment I was so sure that something was going to change between us—something for the better. But then…” She waved her tattooed arm in front of her. “We both got bit. I survived. She, obviously, did not.”

Something deep inside you twisted as you tried to imagine how traumatizing that must’ve been for someone that couldn’t have been older than 14.

“And so I thought that maybe, you were my chance to right what I’ve done wrong,” continued Ellie. Even though she wasn’t looking at you anymore, you could see the reflective sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’ve gotten to live while so many other people have died. I just can’t handle another. It’s not fair of me to keep someone here when there’s somewhere safer for them. It’s selfish, and I’ve been that enough.”

It was as if you’d found the last puzzle piece for the jigsaw of Ellie Williams. All this time, you’d been struggling in your attempts to understand why she was pushing you away—and why she changed her mind so suddenly.

Now you got it. Ellie had come into this knowing that she’d likely never see you again. She’d been betting on it, even. It was all some convoluted way for her to set things right in her head, for her to forgive herself for Riley and whoever else she’d lost.

“You could have told me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I would have understood.”

Ellie sent you a sad smile, shaking her head. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that I’m immune. It’s one of those things that only Joel and Maria and Tommy know about. No one else. They’d fucking kill me if they found out you knew.”

“I’m really sorry.” The fabric of her t-shirt was soft under your fingers as you rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m really sorry for how much of an asshole I was to you,” said Ellie. You didn’t miss the way her eyes had widened when you’d reached out to touch her. “I didn’t want to be that way. I always wanted more. I just couldn’t handle having that, knowing that you were going to leave anyway. I thought it’d be easier for the both of us if you thought I was awful.”

“Didn’t work very well.”

“Clearly.”

“I forgive you,” you said, moving your hand so you could thread your fingers into the loose strands that she hadn’t pulled into that baby bun she always wore.

Instead of kissing you like you thought she might, she threw her arms around you and crushed herself against you, burying her face into your neck.

You held her there, feeling the way her frame trembled under the weight of a sob and tracing patterns across her back.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your chin rested atop her shoulder. “I thought about you every day.”

Ellie clung to you harder as you shifted.

“I’m really sorry,” she said again, muffled against your neck. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I’m not.” You finally pulled away so that she had to look you in the eyes. Under the soft bath of moonlight, her green eyes glowed. “Terranova shouldn’t have existed in the first place. I’m glad that I got out. And I’m even more glad that it brought me back to you.”

Her hand found yours, your fingers tangling.

“I used to spend all my free time wondering what you were doing up North,” said Ellie. You felt her thumb brush across the top of your hand. “I thought that maybe if I imagined you happy, it’d be easier.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Lots of studying, I assumed. And going to fancy events for rich people, eating all that expensive shit that the rest of the world can’t have.”

“Not far off,” you admitted. “But you missed how much time I’d spend wondering about you. I dreamt about you all the time. Sometimes I’d see people who looked similar to you and it’d ruin my whole day. I couldn’t believe that you were gone. I think that deep down I knew that you weren’t.”

She squeezed your hand. When you looked down at where you were touching, you noted how there wasn’t such a stark difference between you and her anymore. The doll fresh-out-of-the-box skin had disappeared in favor of scars and marks collected from your time in the real world.

“I really thought you’d be safe there,” said Ellie.

“You don’t need to worry about me like that anymore,” you told her, cupping her face with your free hand. Her eyelids fluttered half-closed as she leaned into the contact. “You’ve done enough. You can care about me without taking responsibility for everything bad that ever happens to me. You deserve to have something good without suffering because of it. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not anymore,” she agreed.

When you kissed her, it felt like coming home. There was something so achingly familiar in the slope of her neck, the slight chapped-ness of her lips, the almost silent click of her jaw as her mouth parted with a gasp as your hands twisted in her hair.

You weren’t quite sure how you managed a year without it.

The skin of her neck was just as soft as you remembered against your lips, her response just as reactive.

“What’s this?” you asked, pulling away to point at what looked like a small tattoo on the side of her neck. You hadn’t noticed it before—her hair had been covering it.

“Oh.” Ellie looked sheepish. “My free birthday tattoo from Cat. It’s the moon.”

“I see that,” you murmured, brushing her hair back more intentionally to get a better look at it. “Why that phase?”

“It’s the phase it would’ve been on the day we met,” said Ellie. She was bright red now. “Don’t fucking laugh. I know that it’s stupid. Shut up. Stop!”

You desperately tried to stop your giggles, schooling your face into something straight and no-nonsense.

“I spent so long wondering if you even liked me,” you told her. “And now you’ve gone and gotten a tattoo dedicated to me. I feel so validated.”

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“I have you beat, though,” you said, quieter now.

She looked back at you, her brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“When it comes to grand, stupid gestures,” you explained, your finger pointing up to the sky in the general area that you’d collected your data from. “There’s a planet named Ellie up there now.”

Her jaw dropped for just a moment. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” Now you were feeling slightly self-conscious.

“You would do something like that,” Ellie muttered, more to herself than anything. “A whole fucking planet.”

You let her drape an arm around you, pulling you into her until your head fit into the space between her shoulder and her chin.

“So,” Ellie said, and you could feel the words vibrate in her diaphragm, “What now?”

“What do you mean, what now?”

“I mean, what are you gonna do now that you’re stuck here with me for the foreseeable future?”

“Enjoy being stuck with you,” you said. “Maybe get a matching tattoo. Give you the piece of the meteorite I nabbed from the display case in my lab. But mostly spend my time bothering you.”

When she didn’t answer, you shifted so you could look up at her. She was already looking back, her eyes soft and the corners of her lips pulling into two dimples.

“Is that alright with you?’ you ventured.

Her arm tightened around you, fingers gently pressing into the flesh of your forearm like she still couldn’t quite believe you were there.

“You can be so fucking stupid sometimes,” she said. “I get a tattoo for you and you’re still asking if I want you around.”

“It’s been known for you to make rash decisions,” you offered dryly. “I didn’t want to jump to any assumptions.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling down at you, eyes awash with the reflections of the stars above.

Slowly, you reached up and touched her face again, letting your fingers relearn her features, tracing the paths created by freckles—just like you had in her bed all those months ago.

But unlike last time, she didn’t stop you. She didn’t do anything except let you. There was something in her demeanor, something that was fragile and vulnerable and everything that you wanted her to be with you.

“Is this going to be enough for you?” she asked suddenly, her voice raw.

“What do you mean?” Your fingers paused and rested at her cheekbones.

“It’s just—” She blinked hard and cast her gaze up to the sky. “You grew up so differently than me. I’m not going to be able to give you that fancy Terranova life. Are you sure this is going to make you happy?”

“Yes.”

She looked at you, an eyebrow raised skeptically. Your hands moved to cup her face, fingers threading back into her hair.

“Don’t make that face,” you chided.

“I just find it really hard to believe.”

You took in a breath. Perhaps more elaboration was in order.

“I’ll put it like this,” you said. “I spent most of my life thinking I needed to be something extraordinary to be happy. I put so much time into trying to be special and nothing I did ever felt like it was enough. But then I met you, and one day I realized while I was here that I didn’t need that anymore. Just being around you makes me more content than I’ve ever been. I don’t want to be like what I was before. I would consider it my greatest success if I got to lead an ordinary life with you.”

You took her brief silence as an opportunity to press your lips to the corner of her mouth.

“Believe me now?” you asked.

Ellie nodded, leaning in to drop an affectionate kiss at the top of your nose.

And as you sat there, nestled into the warmth of her side and craning your head up to the sky, you’d never been more sure of yourself.

This would be more than enough.

final a/n: ok so some apologies are in order for this one! first of all, sorry for aborting jj lmao. i just couldn't envision doing light speed travel with a baby strapped to dina. big apologies for not including a final smut scene. i actually had one semi-drafted out because i wanted to write one where ellie bottomed bc i feel like it would really hammer in that she was finally choosing to be vulnerable, but the shift in the scene tone just didn't sit right with me. sometimes i write bonus scenes for big fics like this, so if there's enough interest i might write a short one shot of the scene i scrapped/other scenes that i also scrapped. also, speaking of things i scrapped: i had an alternate ending in mind where joel actually did die and ellie went on her seattle rampage + y/n realizes she's alive and tries to sneak out with dina to find her. i might end up writing that one too, depending on interest! anyway, thank you all for coming along on this journey with me so far! it's not totally over yet...the epilogue is still in the works! i appreciate hearing what you guys think of this and hope you all enjoyed !!!

also idk if this is important to bring up but i will say that i didn't realize the kind of message i'd be sending when i wrote a protagonist who's from a place like terranova—exoplanet isn't meant to be some sort of piece that makes you empathize with ignorant beneficiaries of slave labor...it's just the way it shook out and for that i'm sorry 😭

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n

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haitaniapologist · 1 year ago

Text

mon soleil ( lyney x fem!reader )

warnings — royal au, general fluff, indications of human trafficking, misogyny, class clash(?), if you squint enough spoilers of the fontaine archon quests and lyney's story quest.

hi! june making a comeback bc lyney is my newest obsession. reblogs and comments are appreciated!

you never understood why you were so fascinated by magic. maybe it was because of how it could bring a bit of color to your dull life, or maybe it was because of the pair of violet eyes from your childhood that always managed to make you smile with some tricks.

the second option was the truth, but you never spoke about it out loud. the memory of grayish hair and purple eyes was so old that it was almost fading away, and you couldn't remember his face nor his name — sometimes you wondered if he was just an illusion your mind made up to compensate for the lonely years of your childhood, however, your gut always told you he was real.

the magician from your childhood plagued your dreams with the doubt of his very existence, until a fateful day when a magic show was held in the chief of justice's state.

as the daughter of one of fontaine's forum members and a count, you were expected to follow your father and sit pretty at his side during such endeavors, maybe to find a husband or just as an ornament for him to show off — but you hated it, because it only showed you how lonely you were. all the other girls were friends and could dance freely with whoever asked for one, while you sat at your father's side, though, sometimes, the conversations you heard were quite interesting.

your father always said he was doing it to protect you, so, when he announced another ball at the chief of justice's state, you paid no mind. a new dress and new jewels were at your bed when the time came, and you got ready like you always used to.

the way to the chief of justice's house was the same, though you could see more commoners than normal crowind in the streets. before you could even ask your father if there was having some kind of celebration for them, he already started to complain, and the mask took over your face — it was how you called your ability to hear what the nobles said with a neutral face, even if you wanted to roll your eyes and sneer at their nauseous word.

the mask stayed in your face the whole way and even when you arrived at the fancy state, greeting the other nobles and hearing them talk nonsense about the crowd in the way. the ballroom was decorated slightly differently, as if the chief of justice prepared a show for his guests, as the chairs were facing a stage and unknown staff members were running around.

the talk only stopped when the chief of justice himself arrived at the small circle you were in with your father, and you averted your eyes to your shoes. monsieur neuvilette, as kind as he was, still had a position greater than yours.

“mademoiselle y/n.” he greeted you, gloved hand taking yours and soft lips caressing your knuckles. you gave him a courtesy, the mask still on your face, though you felt nervous — you could feel a pair of eyes watching your very movement, as if waiting for you to notice them. “i hope the magic show will be of your liking.”

at the word magic, your eyes lit up, and you finally looked at the chief of justice's face. “magic show?” you asked in surprise, mind already thinking about the violet eyes of your childhood.

the mask probably slipped off, as when you focused back on neuvilette's face, he was giving you the gentlest smile you ever saw. “indeed. i saw one of the magician's shows with the supreme judge, and i thought it would be good to change our endeavors this time.” he explained, hand still holding yours.

“what's the name of the magician, monsieur neuvilette?” it was fruitless to ask for it, since you couldn't remember his name, but you were still curious. you knew about some magicians of the court, but never about one who caught lady furina's attention to the point of her going to show of theirs. maybe, just maybe… you knew he was going to be talented someday.

neuvilette kissed your hand again. “i think the show is about to start, mademoiselle. shall we go?” he offered you his arm and took it without thinking, though maybe that was what your father wanted — having his daughter married to the chief of justice was a great honor, after all. however, it wasn't what you wanted.

maybe you just needed a closure from your childhood — to say you were in love with someone you only saw thrice was madness, but he made you feel like a normal person for once in your life. he made you laugh and smile like no else did, and he was the only person that saw you without the mask. monsieur neuvilette, with all his rich and soft words, would only make you more miserable.

you followed the chief of justice to the front row of the chairs, sitting next to him albeit uncomfortable. all the eyes were on you two, since he never expressed any interest in anyone until, apparently, now. the blonde traveler, who arrived at the court some days prior, was sitting at your side too, and you enjoyed hearing their traveling companion talking about everything and anything with neuvilette. it was good to hear mundane words coming from a different mouth but, as soon as when you started to feel more comfortable around them, the lights were turned off and you could see two silhouettes at the stage.

“monsieurs and mademoiselles, welcome to lyney and lynette's magic show!” an enthusiastic voice spoke up and, when the lights above the stage were turned on again, you grabbed the end of your seat's armrests.

the eyes. the eyes from your childhood were looking directly at you once again.

“is everything alright, mademoiselle y/n?” you heard neuvilette asking and you could only nod, eyes never leaving the magician's figure. it was him — it was the boy who made you dream with flowers and sincere laughs, the boy who made everything else besides him feel so dull and boring. unconsciously, you smiled, and you watched as his smile, too, grew bigger, eyes never leaving your face.

the show was mesmerizing and incredible. you always knew he would be talented when he grew up — the determination in his eyes to make you smile whenever he performed a magic trick for you back then was what brought him there, to the applause and screams of nobles and senators. lyney knew how to hold a crowd's attention, his charming smile and playful words, in combination with lynnette's calm and soft movements made them an unstoppable duo.

you held your breath when he made lynettte disappear inside the water, squealed when she came back in the middle of the chairs, giggled when he made birds and even a tea set appeared from his hat. you couldn't tear his eyes away from lyney, not even when neuvilette spoke to you — how could you not look at him, now that you've found him?

“now, monsieurs and mademoiselles, the last trick of the night is going to happen, but not the least important.” lyney smiled at the crowd, a wooden box being positioned behind him. “and, for this trick, i will need the help of the audience. any volunteers?” the nobles started to scream, and you frowned, an ugly feeling spreading out inside your body.

did lyney remember you? or you were just his first guinea pig?

you took a deep breath, not trying to jump into conclusions. you needed to talk to him, and you would — if not today, then in another day. you knew who he was now, and that was the biggest step you ever took.

but before you could revert your eyes to his form, gloved fingers held your chin and turned your head towards their owner, and you blinked in surprise at how close neuvilette's face was. however, before he could even open his lips to say something, another pair of gloved fingers were holding your hand, and you returned your face to where it was, meeting lyney's eyes once again. !would this beautiful lady accept to be my assistant in this trick?”

it was refreshing how he asked you, and not neuvilette, and how he didn't even mention the fact you were being his companion. “yes, of course, monsieur magician. it will be my pleasure.”

“splendid!” he exclaimed, fingers squeezing your hand. despite both of you wearing gloves, you could feel his warmth. “dear sister, if you may.” you were passed from lyney to lynette, who led you to a twin of the wooden box on the stage.

“he finally found you.” she whispered in your ear, voice as quiet as the wind, that you almost didn't hear because of the screams of the crowd. you managed to capture the disappointed eyes of your father, like they were knives being targeted at you by an assassin. but, for the first time in your life, you didn't care.

you tried to listen when lyney started to explain the trick, but lynette's words were still resonating in your head. they meant he was also looking for you, wasn't he? that was a good sign, you thought. you entered the box with the help of another assistant, lynette nowhere to be seen — she would probably play a part in the trick, after all.

it was dark and a bit quiet inside the box, but you could feel someone, for some reason, moving it. you would never question a magician's way of doing his tricks, but you hoped nobody could see what was happening now. lyney deserved to win the favor of all these nobles, to have many sponsoring him and lynette. soon, the box stopped, and you could hear the audience counting to zero. that was it, then — the trick was about to end.

the crowd cheered, and it seemed like it worked. soon, the door of the box opened, but all you could see was lyney — the playful glint in his eyes and his happy smile. you accepted his hand and stepped out of the box, and the crowd cheered once more. you gave the magician a soft smile, remembering to use the mask in front of all these people.

but you were sure they could see the redness on your cheeks when he kissed your hand. “you are, mademoiselle, the most beautiful assistant i had so far.”

and with that, the magic show was over.

—

you needed to find him.

after the show ended, all the nobles wanted to talk with lyney and you were whisked away from the stage by neuvilette, who led you to another cycle of nobles — this time, not your father's friends, but younger senators who had similar ideologies to yours. it was refreshing to hear young people talking about what to do with the poor of the country, those who were suffering in the streets, then blaming them for the economic crisis fontaine was going through.

however, you weren't in the mind to talk about politics, far from it. you needed to talk with lyney, but he wasn't nowhere to be seen now — until you saw a pair of violet eyes looking at you through the windows of the balcony, and you knew that was your cue.

“monsieur neuvilette?” you whispered for him in the middle of a conversation, and he leaned in to hear you better, while still paying attention to the senator talking to him. “i will go to the balcony to get some fresh air.” you didn't need his permission because he wasn't your husband — he wasn't your anything, actually — but social rules were still expected in a woman's behavior.

“of course.” he kissed your knuckles once more, but what he said next made your stomach drop. “but be back soon, my dearest, your father has an important announcement to make.”

that could only mean your marriage to him. it would make sense why you were kept at his side throughout all night, why he was calling you by such an endearing term only reserved to those who had the blessing of the supreme judge. it made your heart burn and your vision to be blurry, but you were determined to reach the balcony — no one dared to interrupt you, maybe because the mask was off and no one saw you expressing that many emotions before.

you opened the doors of the balcony quickly, hoping he was already there. but you found no one, and your heart burned even more — you were sure you saw his eyes asking you to meet him there! were you too blinded by his presence that you were seeing things now?

“i am deeply sorry for making you wait, mademoiselle y/n.” you heard his voice and turned around to meet him, lyney's hands already finding yours and making the right one to rest on his chest. you could feel how quickly his heart was beating, almost in sync with yours.

you stayed in silence for a few moments, all the words you wanted to tell him now gone in his presence. “who i saw here, then, since it was not you?” it was what you managed to stay, though not what you wanted to.

he chuckled, and you swore it was the most beautiful sound you ever heard in your life. “lynette. the nobles weren't leaving me alone, and i needed to speak with you.” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. “having a twin sister has its perks.” you nodded, lips parting to ask him all the questions you wanted, but he was quicker than you. “can i make a magic trick?”

you leaned your head to the side, unconsciously, a little bit confused, but nodded anyway. lyney took his hat from his head and took a flower out of it, handing it to you. before you could thank him for it, he took it again from your hands, hat already sitting comfortably at his head, and made it disappear.

“lyney! that was such a beautiful rainbow rose!” you scolded him, but despite the tone of your voice, he was smiling fondly and with something more shining on his eyes.

“we never lose something in magic, mon soleil.” you felt his hand on your ear, putting some strands of your hair behind it, his fingers staying there for some more moments than necessary — he had an electric touch, one that brought your heart back to life after so many years of being sleeping, just waiting for him like in the fairytales. “do not you feel something different?” he whispered, his face the closest it ever was.

you were too lost looking at his eyes to notice anything before, but there was an additional weight on the same ear he touched. you lift your fingers and the flower petals met your skin, as soft as the silk sheets you slept every night. you gasped, though that was the same magic trick he did with you the first time you met — you were crying in the garden after some rude words from your father, and lyney took as his mission to make you smile and forget what it was said to you. both of you were still children, both faces with immature features and innocence shining in your eyes, but even if now you were older, you still felt like the same girl from back then.

you still felt the same happiness she did at his presence.

“how can i repay you?” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes, the waltz playing inside just a quiet sound that made the moment more intimate than it should be — but you weren't asking to repay for just now or the magic tricks he did, but for the moments of happiness and humanity he gave you. in those small moments of your childhood, lyney reminded you that you were first a human, and second a noble. it was hard to remember this with the position you had, but you always remembered his smile and the giggles he managed to coach out of you.

he smiled at you, hands now cupping your face. “would my y/n be willing to give me a kiss?”

giggling, you lifted your head a bit more, meeting his lips while grabbing his shirt to bring him even closer.

you were no stranger to kissing, the stable boys having the honor of being your guinea pigs for this art, but kissing lyney was the first time you kissed someone with such raw emotion — the way your hands gripped him in desperation, too afraid of him going away without any explanation again, the way his hands held you as if you were his most treasured prize, the way your lips touching spoke more than any words could.

lyney broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours, and you closed your eyes — to feel him. “i am deeply sorry for my disappearance,” he whispered. “there was not a day that you were not in my mind, y/n.” you could only nod, kissing his jaw.

“it is alright,” you whispered back. “i know my father's deeds. what he did to you and lynette, lyney?” you weren't dumb and knew your father was a horrible man, especially to his staff. he would sell them to other nobles just for making a small mistake, and whenever one of your young ladies disappeared, you knew he sold them to be bed warmers of one of his friends.

it was disgusting, but you couldn't do anything — your position as his daughter forbid you to do so.

“he sold lynette.” he admitted, and you opened your eyes, this time holding his face between your hands.

“you do not need to tell me what happened.” you comforted him, kisses on his face followed by your words. “what matters is that you and her are now here and thriving. i always knew you would be talented, lyney.” your words felt like an antidote to a poisoned man, and lyney could only smile. although he only started to do magic tricks for you to see if he was as good a magician as his master, your smiles and giggles became his reason to try better everyday — and after he left, seeing you again became his fuel to become the best magician the court ever saw.

“and i always knew you would become the most beautiful lady of this court, mon soleil.”

before your lips could meet again, the chief of justice's surprised voice rang in the air of the balcony. “mademoiselle y/n?” you and lyney turned around, your eyes widening at the sight of the man you were probably going to be engaged in a few moments. you could see disbelief and anger in his eyes, but hurt and sadness shined the brightest. you didn't know what to say, hiding behind lyney who stepped in front of you, maybe to shield you what was coming next — you never demonstrated any interest in the chief of justice, in anyone actually, then why was he looking so forlorn at seeing you in the arms of another man?

you were saved from any explanations by a scream coming from the inside of the ballroom, which made the chief of justice turn his attention to what was happening inside his home.

“were you engaged to him?" lyney asked, still in front of you and looking at the commotion inside. he hoped lynette managed to get away safely.

you furrowed your brows. “no, of course not. i think my father wanted to make his bride.” you explained, brows still furrowed by what was happening. people were screaming and running, and you could hear some servants saying a maid found a dead body.

“good.” lyney whispered, turning his face to you once more. “lynette killed your father.” he admitted, no shame on his features. although the news were supposed to shock you, were supposed to make you sad beyond human comprehension — after all, the boy you've loved for years just admitted his twin sister killed your father — you just nodded.

that caught him by surprise, but lyney soon chuckled. “you have two options, mon soleil. stay and be the bride of the chief of justice, or go with me.” he offered you his hand, eyes shining with hope. “i can not guarantee you will have the same life you did, but i can promise that my heart will always be yours and, while i live, nothing is going to harm your beautiful face.” lyney poured his heart out to you, and sighed in relief when you squeezed his hand.

“how i can let you go again, lyney? take me wherever you go.”

@softbajis here you go loser

#lyney x reader #lyney #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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dedfly · 9 months ago

Note

I just had a *delicious* Shadow Milk/Reader idea!

What if, after the events of the game, Reader finds Shadow Milk Cookie (whether Reader's inside or outside the Tree's barrier is up to you) sulking or generally being upset that he hadn't gotten his way after his defeat. Being a good friend/lover/etc., Reader then decides to (either right then or after a bit of time to prepare) play him a song like they were his personal court jester & he was their king?

I think he'd appreciate something like that (and probably find it endearing), although he might tease that they had better not try and steal the show/leave the jesting to him, y'know?

Like, reader is just really playing up the antics and making fun of those *terrible, no good cookies* that had slighted him in an attempt to cheer him back up some. I just think that would be really cute.

- =^ •ᆽ• ^=

I hope it's cute enough

† Shadow Milk cookie x reader †

† Oneshot †

Kinda angsty

Shadow Milk sat covering his head with his hands in defeated position, muttered something under his breath, cursed and spat. Anything to stop the approaching tears. But despite this, a telltale lump was already forming in his throat, and there was an familiar unpleasant feeling of aching pain in his heart. Thousands of years of waiting are down the drain, it’s not fair, it’s not right, and in general just awful.

He would have sat there even longer if he had not heard some fuss. He immediately perk up, quickly wiping his eyes with his puffy sleeve.

Shadow's slitted eyes flashed as soon as they recognized who had come to visit the jester. Despite this, Shadow was, to put it mildly, out of sorts, and maybe if it had been someone else, he would have put on his usual cheerful mask, but not this time. He was amused at the sight before him.

His eyes darted between you laying out your “props”. It was even comical to be on the other end of the stage and be an audience for once. Not that he could make anything out of his imprisonment besides watching and observing.

What’s even more comical is that all attempts to cheer him up only caused him to smile a little, and only because he still noticed how much of an amateur you were. It was warming his heart for sure, but he is too full of himself to admit that.

At that moment when you were telling him about how “mean” the Elder Fairy had done by transferring the powers to White Lily and oh God, they hid this fact from the poor unfortunate jester. Attacking from behind!and who does that anyway? Horrible evil cookies.

Rolling his eyes at another attempt to “suck up” to him, Shadow Milk extended his hand to flick your nose.

“Oh come on, you silly cookie, shoo shoo I've seen enough,” Milk purred before pressing himself against the tines of the fork that were holding him back. Despite the fact that he would never admit it, hearing something so far from the truth that showed him in the best light could not but please him. He reached out to ran his hand along your hair a bit patronisingly, yet not enough so you would notice.

The seeds of deception are sprouting faster than he expected. Even such little lie makes him feel more alive. How pleasant.

________

I feel a bit like in one webtoon where instead of a joke it said *funny joke* while writing it ಠ_ಠ

Ironically, it was also about the jester

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk x reader #crk x you #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie x you

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broken-freedom · 1 year ago

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Nina can you write a blurb or one shot of Eren going to the strip club one day and discovers that Y/N is a stripper plus she doesn’t want anyone to know her secret that’s why she doesn’t tell anyone. One day he catches her and in order for Eren to keep her huge secret she has to give him more than a lap dance in the back room if you know what I’m saying 😏

• Your Little Secret •

Word Count: 1.9K

CW: lap dance, humiliation (?), face riding.

A/N: It took me forever I know, but hey! It is now done at least! Enjoy ;)

Your worst nightmare became reality the moment your eyes locked with his in the middle of your performance. You managed to keep your “job” a secret from every single person you know for 4 long years only to be discovered by the one person you hate the most.

It started as a little extra support, because let’s be honest, who can afford to pay all this money every semester for 4-5 years atop of all other life expenses? You left home as soon as you graduated from high school and even with the extra shifts you were picking up here and there, the bills were left unpaid. When one day you were working as a waitress, serving dinner and cleaning tables, an older man slipped a note in your hand as he paid you a farewell, one you thought was a generous tip to conclude the good service you provided, or at least .. you hoped. You shoved the note in your back pocket and resumed working.

After your shift ended, you opened the note to only find a number and a few words scribbled messily underneath “I can provide you more, somewhere else.” The note creeped you for days, but one afternoon you were desperate, unpaid bills everywhere, unsubmitted assignments alerts filling your school’s email. How are you supposed to find time to study when you are practically overworking yourself to be able to pay for rent, classes, gas and food?!

You ran to the note and with shaky hands opened it and dialed the number.

“H- hello …?” you start nervously.

“I was waiting for your call” you hear the man on the other side of the line talking with such confidence.

Turns out to be a stripping job that the owner of the club saw you and thought you would be able to earn a little extra doing that instead of serving food and relying heavily on tips. Without a second thought you accepted, the number he offered you would solve 99% of your problems and you only needed to work 3 days per week. In the other 4 you can actually focus on your education and get your degree to find a better job for yourself that can fully support you.

You managed to keep your little job a secret from your friends and classmates. Yes it is a small town, but who would go to a strip club on a Tuesday evening while needing to be in class first thing in the morning the next day? And it worked, for four years, you buried the truth intending to never admit it out loud, not even to yourself, until today….

The day where your secret comes out and everyone will know about it because of him.

You were in the middle of your seductive movement taking off the little excuse of a bra as a part of your dance when you locked eyes with him. You feel your whole world crashing at once. The air around you is thick and making it hard to breathe. The room you’re in suddenly turns 100 degrees and rising. You meet his amused gaze with a mortified one, feeling sick to your stomach. Your body is moving as you do every time performing your seductive dance as if you were on autopilot but your brain is flashing alarms at you to run away from his burning stare. The way his eyes are twinkling looking at you makes you sick, and you would love to smack that shit-eating grin out of his face, but you sadly have to carry the dance.

“Eren Fucking Jaeger.. Why is he here? We have a test tomorrow! Shouldn’t he be studying?”

The more you wonder, the wider his grin gets, making you clench your teeth to prevent yourself from screaming from the top of the stage.

Your thoughts are running 100 miles per hour but also trying to keep your cool as much as possible replacing the mixed facial expressions of disgust and anger with a much calmer and relaxed one. The show has to carry on no matter what.

Your body swaying left and right to the beat of the slow tone music as your own hands cupping and grabbing at your skin starting from your thighs to your hips, to finally settle on your tits. You try to keep your mind off him and focus on your work, you’ll have to deal with him later. But he makes it so hard for you with him whistling and cheering at your every movement, feeling his flame-filled gaze on your bare back even when you can’t see him.

The moment the music dies to a stop you rush off stage and run in your heels to shield yourself from his prying eyes, you strip in front of thousands of people without care, but not him, not Eren. He will make sure to turn your life into a living hell now he knows your secret. You’ll have to run away, change your name, and find a new life elsewhere. But it doesn't always end up as you want as Eren catches up to you and holds your wrist preventing you from going further into the dressing room.

“What do you want Eren?!” you try to yank your hand out of his grasp but no success since he is way stronger than you. “Oh why so shy now darling, you were ready to drop your panties for me not a minute ago?” He holds your gaze daringly. “I also paid for a lap dance, would never miss the chance of having Ms. perfect dancing half naked in my lap”

“Not in your wildest dreams! Let me go right now!” You try to push him away with your other hand, but he is faster, holding both of your hands now and pulling you closer to his chest, hovering over your face and smirking devilishly “You were the last person to come to mind when I asked for the best.. You? The best? Got to try to believe it .. or do you want your secret to make it past the walls of this building?” He twists you around and pushes you to walk in front of him to the same hallway you were going to earlier, not to your dressing room, but to the private room right next to it.

You want to keep your job, it still pays the bills, but also needs to find a way to keep Eren from exposing you to everyone you know, you walk with him as you think, and think, and think, you need to have the upper hand in this situation, but knowing how evil Eren is, you will need to calculate your next step carefully.

You get inside the private room and push Eren to sit on the sofa, his hungry eyes exploring every inch of your body as you make your way to the pole in the center of the room. “Someone changed her mind” Eren chuckles thinking to himself how easily you got manipulated to do exactly what he wants. You wouldn’t want anyone to find out about this after all, and from who? So you’ll have to do what he tells you to do.

You grab the pole, bending your body ever so slowly, giving Eren a full view of your puffed pussy strangled by the thong. A loud whistle coming from behind you reminding you of who is actually sitting there watching your every movement. You close your eyes shut trying to steady your breathing and carry on your plan. Slowly but seductively you make your way towards Eren pushing his knee apart so you can stand in between and reaching for his necktie to untie it “Hands behind your back Jaeger, club’s policy” He does what you tell him to do, hypnotized by how good you smell and you tie his hands behind his back. You bend over as you sway your hips pushing your tits closer to his face. The way he gulps the closer you get to him tells you that what you are doing is correct and gives you the energy you need to continue. You pull the string of your bra down exposing your boobs as you straddle Eren’s lap. Watching the teasing gaze drop from his face gives you satisfaction when you start grinding on him wanting to torture him. The more you grind the louder he growls “ Fuck …” wanting more, and now you can feel him more. Erected, desperate, and wanting more, and you give him more by pushing your weight down on his cock but stand back on your feet quickly “wha- … why?” his confused tone makes you giggle.

With one swift motion, you place one leg on Eren’s shoulder, reaching your hand to teasingly rub your clothed clit before you pull the string to the side exposing your wet pussy to Eren’s widening eyes. “You did not pay for this but I am feeling like giving you a special treatment today”

The closer you get to Eren’s face the more he understands what you want to do “why are you doing this?” “Because I can, isn’t that obvious?” “But you- …” you cut him off when your pussy makes contact with his lips, tongue darting out immediately to taste the sweetness of your essence dropping into his mouth. He moans, loud, and you enjoy the scene of his eyes rolling back. Grinding his clothed cock was fun, he made cute noises, but riding his face is even more thrilling. His whole diameter changed and it is pleasing to watch. You pinch your nipples in between your fingers speeding the process, Eren thrusting his tongue inside your pussy with his nose pressed against your clit is more than enough to send you to cloud nine, drenching Eren’s face with cream liquid and a few drops falling into his shirt staining it white. Your legs shake and you try to steady yourself by putting your leg back on the floor, Eren is quiet, he is more surprised than you are by how your actions silenced him, but his eyes are screaming at you. You look at his flushed, wet face with amusement, his hands still tied behind him. One final step before you conclude your plan.

You drop to your knees in front of Eren, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants to take his raging cock out, fully hard and leaking in your palm “what a pretty cock, Jaeger” you smirk giving Eren’s cock a few pumps making him growl in response. You keep your eyes locked with his as you bend lowering your head, but before your lips reach his tip, you tear your eyes away from Eren’s looking at his length in your hand “what a shame for a cock this nice to be attached to an asshole like you” and you spit on it before you stand up and start backing up to go to your room to change “keep your mouth shut Jaeger, or I know a way to keep it useful other than talking shit about others”

Even though he never actually planned on telling a living soul about your little secret. He’ll still come to spite you every once in a while, and to get you to sit on his face again…

xXx

#eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren smut #eren aot smut #eren x you #aot smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x fem!reader

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two-white-butterflies · 2 years ago

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you're losing me (six) | am. targaryen and j. velaryon

Description: A song that you wrote after breaking up makes Aemond to go back to you. In which, a man gives away everything for love.

Rating: General Audiences

part five

Aemond keeps watching you - already memorizing the choreography to every song that you wrote. He takes a sip of his water, rolling his eyes as Aegon began to cheer for the surprise song. "This song is very personal to me, I wrote it after breaking up with someone - and I don't wish that any of ya'll relate to this," you laugh, and the entire crowd cheers, hearing the few notes. "I get myself twisted in threads to meet you at the Alcott," you sang.

Your face flashes on the LED screen - your eyes were blurry with tears, and hair wet with rain. You looked a like a goddess in his eyes - seemingly staring at his soul. "I go to the corner in the back, where you'd always be." you hummed - thinking of him while you walked around the stage. The Alcott was a place that only the two of you knew about - a secret con, and a hotel garden.

"- and there you are, sitting as usual with your golden notebook. Writing something about someone who used to be me." you added, his brother elbows his side gently - leaning his head closer so that they'd be able to hear each other through the singing crowd. "It's about you," Aegon yelled and he nodded - not finding the power to take his eyes off you.

"- and the last thing you wanted, is the first thing I do. I tell you my problems, you tell me the truth." you added with a small pout, waving at the crowds from beyond the stadium. You could attend a thousand interviews and swear to the gods that you were over him - but you'd be lying, because he was your greatest love - the what if that rattled your brain constantly.

"It's the last thing you wanted, it's the first thing I do." you repeated, walking towards the VIP Station and freezing once your eyes bump into each other. "I tell you that I think I'm falling, back in love with you." you pointed at him, and chills ran down his spine. Maybe this was the way that you'd reconnect with each other - the string that was tying you back again. "I sit there silently waiting for you to look up," you sang - watching as the lyrics of the song unravel into reality. He smiles slowly, avoiding the crowds that were cheering at him. He keeps his cap on his head - hiding his face.

"I see you smile when you see it's me. I had to do something to break into your golden thinking. How many times will I give up and you'll still believe?" you changed the lyrics, deciding to move into a separate part of the stage. The connection was there - but the crowds didn't need to get suspicious. "Tell me, which side are you on dear?" you sang, kneeling on the stage and glancing at his figure.

You were stupid to pretend that you could lose him. That the heart was incapable of CPR.

"Give me some tips to forget you," you smile hearing the backtrack sing back. "Have I become one of your problems?" you smile again, knowing that he was your problem - the headache that you couldn't send away. "Could it be easy this once? Everything that's mine is a landmine." you sang the low note - deciding to go back to his part of the stage. "Did my love aid and abet you?" you joke, reminiscent of the toilsome beginning of the relationship.

He nods his head with a smirk, mouthing the words 'yes'.

"I tell you that I think I'm falling back in love with you." you finish the song, signaling the technicians to shut the lights. There was no use singing more of the song - because the answer was right in front of you. Aemond wasn't a landmine, he wasn't a place that you could go away from - he was part of you, half of your soul and you didn't need any reminding to remember that. "I tell you that I think I'm falling back in love with you." your voice fades out.

y/nkittens: SO ME AND MY FRIEND WERE IN THE VIP SECTION (separate seats) and I just noticed that she kept going back to our section (she started there when she was singing 'The Alcott' and she was smiling at some guy behind us) then she kept going back for 'invisible string' and 'Fearless'

78 comments 912,839 likes

diveediva: kittens do ur thing 🫣

y/nkittens: UPDATE: the guy kinda looks like Aemond Targaryen 👀 but ya'll didn't hear it from me.

Y/N L/N WINS COURT CASE AGAINST AMERICA: SHE'S ALLEGEDLY PAYING HER TAXES, FOLKS!

JUST IN: After three-years of a hefty legal battle with the state of California, all charges against singer, Y/N L/N were waved. According to the singer, her father (who is a renowned con-man) used her name to create expensive purchases that she was unable to file the tax returns of (as she wasn't aware that those expenses were made) and her father was the one who handled her finances at the time.

Despite the betrayal, the singer asserts that she still 'loves and supports her father' and that her fans shouldn't throw any 'hate' at the man.

Aemond nervously bounces his legs, waiting for you to finish the show. He was escorted back-stage after a few songs. He was playing with the ring - callously placing it on his fingers. It was a family heirloom, a ring given to him by his mother that came from his grandmother. "Aem," you began to bolt in his direction - wrapping your arms around him. "Darling," he breathes - holding you tightly in fear that you'd let go.

"What's the meaning of this? What are you doing here?" you inquire - eyes narrowing around the sight of his disheveled figure. "I've been attending your tours since January." he began, cupping your cheeks with softness and longing. "I thought that you were better without me - because I'm not better without you," he bit the inner corners of his lips, ignoring the staff that were watching you. "I haven't slept properly in months," you chuckle, letting him know that he wasn't the only one having a hard time.

"Let's get back together please," he pleaded, preparing the ring. "You don't give a damn about your family, but I do - your mother loves you." you hum, knowing that his family would never accept you. "I've grown to realize that it doesn't matter what they think. I can do what I want. I'll do what makes me happy - as for my mother, I think she loves you too." he smiled - pulling the ring out of his pocket.

A gasp escapes your mouth.

It was the same ring that Alicent was wearing when she warned you to stay away from Aemond.

"Mom can't stop talking about how generous and humble you are. That you're prepared to drop everything just because you think that it'll make my life better." he explained - your eyes were painted solely on the ring. "Will you marry me?" he asked, dropping on one knee.

"Yes."

(one year later)

(your full name): can i go where you go?

235,689 comments 12,245,089 likes

officialaemondtargaryen: 💚

toelicker69: Congratulations y/n and husband!! 🕷

-(your full name): thank you sm heleana 🥰

Daemon_Targ69: 🎉 congrats,,,kids

LarysNoor: feet

officialaemondtargaryen: All along there was some invisible string, tying you to me.

10 comments 234 likes

jacaerys_velaryon_author: Congratulations uncle 🤘🏽🎉

-officialaemondtargaryen: thank you jacey-poo 💚

toelicker69: Is it too late for a divorce? @(your full name)

-officialaemondtargaryen: I'm afraid that it is 🙂

Jace hands the both of you a glass of champagne. There was a tinge of regret on his heart - festering like an open wound.

He longed for what you had.

You were his greatest love, but he wasn't yours.

"Congrats," he smiled, happy for you. "Thanks," you two say in unison. You looked around you with tears in your eyes - sure, Aemond wasn't going to inherit his father's company but you had everything you could possibly want.

Support. Love. and Peace.

"Cheers to forever," Aemond raised his glass, and you smile. "- and eternity," you add while taking a sip of your champagne.

(your full name): i hope that the kids know that mama and papa loved each other very much. 💗

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@glame @xcinnamonmalfoyx @winxchesters @yentroucnagol @hotchnerswife @mxxny-lupin @joliettes @kemillyfreitas @mxtantrights @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kravitzwhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @introverbatim @flrboyd @kemillyfreitas

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saltyfish64 · 7 months ago

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💥 MARS IN 8TH HOUSE - GENIUS OR CRAZY

👉 Yeah, just like the title, with Mars in 8th house in astrology, you can become a successful person or a murderer, depending on what you want to choose -)))).

👉 Why do I say that?

💫 First a little bit about 8th house : governing death, our approach to transformation, deep connections and mysteries or taboos. Ummm, frankly speaking, it's extremely complicated and mysterious, because 8th house is ruled by Scorpio (lol).

💫 As for Mars, it was mentioned in the previous post so I'm too lazy to say it again. In general, it is also related to Scorpio.

🤏 Combining these two things together, Mars in 8th house is like coal meeting fire, burning brightly but releasing CO gas, yes -))) which is a toxic gas. So for me, well, Mars in 8th house is not a very good placement.

👉 Talking about the characteristics of Mars in 8th house:

💫 Mars in 8th house just born seems to be able to read other people's thoughts, so it's not easy to trick them, you can even be spun around like a pinwheel without even knowing it. When they get tired of playing, maybe you will realize -)))).

💫 Although Mars in 8th house is a person with the ability to see far, they are not as calculating as God, they often encounter unexpected things but they are not afraid to face problems -)))) Instead of avoiding it, they prefer to solve it quickly and concisely.

💫 Mars in 8th house also has a trust issue -))), basically, it's quite difficult to get them to trust completely, but once they trust, it's very common to get stabbed in the back 🤡.

🙏 A real example is me, I've been betrayed by a few people before so I know it very well -)))), I played with friends wholeheartedly, and friends stabbed and shocked my brain 🤡.

💫 Mars in 8th house came into contact with death quite early. I remember when I was in 3rd or 4th grade, I already knew about these things. At first, I was afraid of death -))), well, I was simply afraid that my parents would die and I would be alone, but later I thought that death is not really the end but just a new beginning.

💫 Mars in 8th house loves to explore and learn about what interests them 🤔, especially about spirituality and death, um with dramas and also cases, human psychology and crime for example. Moreover, they are also talented in finding the truth, so if you are in love with them, don't do anything wrong to them, they know everything, it's just that they want revenge so they still let you free 💀.

💫 If they are determined to do something, Mars in 8th house will do it to the end, even mountains of swords and seas of fire cannot stop them -))). I remember how many times just looking for a picture or a series of stories, I spent several hours scrolling through all the pages I followed 🤡.

💫 Mars in 8th house in the early stages is a bit lost, they don't know what they want to do and what to do, their psychology is always unstable, they tend to self-destruct or destroy others💀, maybe even will have the intention of "ruining" with those who hurt them deeply. But if they can overcome that stage, find their ego, understand what they want and need to do, then they will be a successful person 🫶.

💫 On the contrary, like the title -))))) I also said above, Mars in 8th house emits CO gas -)))). Really, if the person with this position does not use energy well, they will most likely go down the wrong path (such as addiction, gambling, etc).

👉 In general, if they grow up, they will become people who protect and help others, then you will feel lucky to have them by your side.

💫 Well, Mars in 8th house has a short lifespan -))))) Talented people often die early 🤡 (just kidding, don't throw stones), people with this position like to learn about death, and death also likes to come with them -))))), they will often encounter unexpected accidents without any prediction.

💓 This is the end of this article, thank you for watching me babble 🤭.

💦 Btw, My English is not very good, so if I make any grammatical mistakes, please let me know.

📌 Anyway, this article is personal and written based on my own analysis.

🍀 Wishing you success and luck will come to you.

📍Dành cho bạn nào người Việt thì mình có đăng bài này bằng tiếng Việt trên FB, link mình để ở dưới

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/yR3J9Sn4mYXXrFDX/?mibextid=oFDknk

#Mars in 8th house #astrology #Mars #8th house

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 year ago

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Games for one? Most of my experience is with dnd 5e but getting groups together is always a pain.

THEME: Solo Games

Hello friend! I see you've given me plenty of license to go wild with the recommendations, so I hope you like a nice little selection of different genres!!!!

Space Jellyfish Overhead, by Spring Villager.

This is an ancient place, known only as Land. The people of Land seek to live in harmony with the sea and the sky. Once a generation, a bloom of giant jellyfish fills the skies above. The Visitors descend, stay a few days, and then leave for many years. Nobody knows why they come or where they go, but the Elders teach that they are messengers from the stars.

A select few possess an innate ability to communicate with the jellyfish. Known as Jelly Watchers, these individuals journey through wild places in search of signs heralding the Visitors’ impending arrival. They listen to the jellyfish songs, learn their secrets, and share their wisdom with the people of Land.

Players journey through wild areas, seeking signs of the Visitors' arrival. The game blends introspective journaling with deep time. Players uncover lost truths, assess threats and chart a path forward for their community—all influenced by the strange space jellyfish above.

I love the premise of this game. It’s 2 pages long: rthe first page gives you play instructions and some basic setup, while the second page is an oracle that you can use by drawing cards from a playing card deck. The game occurs over four acts: Searching, Arrival, Jelly Days and Departure. You roll dice until your character finds Jellysign; then you determine what the Jellyfish looks like. Jelly Days uses the oracles on the second page to determine truths, threats and tasks conveyed through messages; you then take time to decide how your visions convey these messages. The final stage details your departure from the meeting withe the Jellyfish, as you decide how your messages are received.

Overall, if you love eerie settings and deciphering prompts in the process of creation, you’ll like this game.

Gunslinger, by KLN Games.

You’ve arrived on a strange swamp planet. A powerful curse threatens the land, and you are the only hope to stop it.

Gunslinger is a scifi-fantasy journaling TTRPG with Flintlock pistol combat. Can be finished in 2 to 3 hours. You play as a Gunslinger, a sort of freelance hunter who has been recruited to help bring an end to the decaying state of the world.

This is another game that feels more akin to a dungeon delve than an interpretive experience. You will build a character with stats and attacks, and you are given a swamp map to explore with various locations and NPCs that may help you or give you quests. The brochure itself has a very definitive style that I really like: it’s simple, but communicates the feeling of the setting.

Escape from Charybdis Station, by Kaid Brenen Sacander.

You are a Myrmidon, an elite servant of the queen of the Attala Star Empire. You stole the secret weakness of the enemy’s star-eating superweapon, and must return it home for any chance to save your people.

While fleeing your pursuers, you were caught in the FTL-disabling zone of Charybdis Station, a massive, ancient Precursor relic that has ensnared generations of careless star travelers in its net.

If there is any hope to save your home, your people, your queen, you must traverse the myriad depths of the station, battle or avoid the perilous Custodians, locate and disable the FTL dampeners, and Escape from Charybdis Station!

This is a solo game using the Firelights SRD, which is a system inspired by metroidvania video games. The game itself fits on a double-sided brochure, but it fits a lot on there. You have three approaches and a fatigue meter. As you move throughout the world, you pull from a deck of cards to determine where you are, and use them to build a map that your character will be able to explore. You also have a task that you need to fulfill: in this case, Disabling the FTL Dampeners. You will roll for events, but also to determine whether your character succeeds or fails at certain tasks. If you like a game that is less procedural and more suited for dungeon delving, this is the game for you.

The Familiar’s Rebellion, by ToriBee.

In The Familiar's Rebellion, you play the role of a magical creature bound in service to a formidable witch. Aided by a deck of tarot cards and a Jenga tower, your destiny is literally in your hands. The Major Arcana cards shape your tasks, handed down by your master, while the Minor Arcana cards weave intricate tales of your everyday life and relationships with other magical beings.

The suits of the Minor Arcana - Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles - guide your actions and choices. Navigate the demands of your servitude (Wands), manage the ebb and flow of your emotions (Cups), carefully plot your rebellion (Swords), and handle the inevitable consequences of your actions (Pentacles). Each decision you make influences the game world and determines your path towards freedom.

But the stakes are high. Pull a block from the Jenga tower each time you face a consequence and should the tower fall, your rebellion has been discovered. It's a delicate dance between obedience and defiance, comfort and risk, servitude and freedom. As a Moth, a Raven, or another mystical creature, will you gather your strength, outwit your captor, and finally taste the sweet air of liberation? Dive into this solo RPG and create your own tale of magic, cunning, and freedom.

This game might require you to acquire a tarot deck (and a Jenga tower) if you don’t currently own one, but I appreciate the way the Jenga tower can keep you in suspense. The game also looks really pretty.

In Service of the Fey, by Christina Evans.

You are in the service of the Fey. You have survived until now. You have four seasons left in their service before you will be released.

This is your story of your last year in Faerie.

In Service of the Fey is a deck and dice based storytelling game for solo play. Using a standard deck of cards and single six-sided dice, you tell the story of your year in service to the Fey and the Fey who change you for better or worse.

A short journaling game, this is a great setting for fans of high fantasy. Your character will navigate four seasons in the service of the Fae, after which they will return home. This is a pretty short game, so it’s great for folks who just want a chance to experience something interpretive to see how they feel about it.

The Hands of Gods, by KMST.

Mechs are a common sight in many stories, but where do they come from? This solo journaling game has you chronicle the lives and work of those who are responsible for making the massively complex mechs that we take for granted. To play, all you will need is a regular deck of 52 playing cards, and a way to chronicle your story.

The game consists of three phases. In Setup, you decide on the background, context, and theme of the mech and your character, as well as your playstyle. In Construction, you draw from the deck to determine what events happen as you make progress on the mech, and in Journey, you take a wider view and see how your mech fares as it goes off to battle, and what becomes of it.

Created for the MechJam of 2023, this is pretty substantial for a solo game - 18 pages long! I especially appreciate the worldbuilding tool that helps you set up exactly what kind of setting this mech game takes place in. It doesn’t assume that you want a space game - you can play fantasy, post-apocalypse, whatever your heart desires. This game is more guided than other interpretive games, asking you plenty of questions about your character’s beliefs and workplace before giving you various oracles to fuel your journal entries.

Previous Solo Game Recommendations

Free First-Time Solo Games

Crafting and Exploration Solo Games

Short, Daily Solo Games

Character-Focused, Lighthearted Solo Games

First Time Solo Games

Lighthearted Solo Games

Wizard Solo Games

Solo, But Not Alone

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #solo games

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moonchildreads · 1 year ago

Text

small town

Chapter 24 - Up Where We Belong

IN THIS CHAPTER: Graduation gowns, strawberry milkshakes, and Wayne asks a question [9.9k]

WARNINGS: dealing with grief (nancy, dottie, eddie to a less extent), writer not knowing how graduations are in the us

A/N: happy new year!!!! i hope everyone is having a wonderful start of 2024, here's your belated christmas gift from yours truly. if you read this and think "that's not how that works", then i don't know what to tell you bestie but i tried. i watched a TON of graduation ceremonies on youtube and i pulled heavily from those, aside from borrowing things from my own not-american graduation. i hope you enjoy it anyways! (and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!) <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

All we have is here and now All our life, out there to find

Friday, June 13th - 1986

Wayne Munson had walked the halls of Hawkins High School several times throughout recent years courtesy of his nephew’s misbehaving, but never making it past Principal Higgins’ office was turning out to be a problem. Resigned, he stomped on his cigarette gently before following a family that looked like they knew where they were going, regretting not taking up Eddie’s offer to escort him inside before he disappeared in search of his friends and fellow graduates. Graduation. Ain’t that a funny thing to think about, Wayne mused. The auditorium, he noted as he finally found it, was decorated in bright orange and calming forest green, a Class of 1986 paper banner hanging from the dark curtain that was doing its job as an unassuming background at the very back of the room. On the stage, there was a regal-looking wooden lectern, and a small table with stacked up rolls of paper tied with orange and green ribbons; next to it, a bunch of black chairs where teachers would probably be sitting during the event had been carefully lined up into a single row.

Excitement filled the air. It was in the murmurs of the people taking their seats, skimming their programs to proudly find the names of their kids printed on the semi-matte paper. It was in the way the school’s faculty could not stand still, barely having time to say hello to everyone walking in before they were off to check yet another little detail so everything could go as smoothly as possible. Wayne walked down the central aisle trying to find a good spot to sit in while feeling a bead of sweat go down his back. The last time he’d worn a suit, any suit, had been to his mother’s funeral eight years before; in fact, he still only owned that one suit. The temperature in Hawkins was steadily rising as June turned into July, and Wayne felt incredibly stuffy in his clothes but he didn’t dare wear anything less for such a special day. Eddie had defied all odds and was now a High School Graduate, the first Munson to walk to stage in three generations. Truth be told, his Uncle was willing to bet that he was actually the first one to do so in their entire family history, and thus, Wayne wore the suit, and the shirt, and the tie, and searched for a seat near the front to witness his nephew doing the exact opposite of what the whole town had always expected him to do: succeed.

Bianca, Donny’s mom, was fussing over her youngest grandson, Francesco, when she saw Wayne looking a little lost in the crowd and waved at him to wordlessly invite him to sit with them. The eldest Munson approached them with a smile, settling himself on the row behind the Vitale family who was so very busy trying to keep little Francesco and his (barely) older cousin Marco from running down the aisles and bothering other families.

“Good to see y’all made it,” Wayne commented, shaking Donny’s dad Angelo’s hand before turning to Vittoria, Donny’s heavily pregnant older sister. “Though I coulda sworn I heard you were on bed rest, missy.”

“I am, but what my doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she laughed, hand resting over her swollen belly. “This little lady hasn’t stopped kicking me all day, I think she’s more excited than I am to finally be outside the house!”

“It’s a special day, I’m sure the doctor won’t mind too much as long as we take it slow,” her husband said, kissing the side of her head. “Say hi to Mr. Munson, Marco.”

“Hi!” the little boy said, standing between his parents’ seats. “Whose Grandpa are you?”

“Marco!” his dad exclaimed, but Wayne laughed loudly.

“That’s not a grandpa, you dummy! That’s Eddie’s dad,” said Francesco, before grabbing his cousin’s hand and leading him towards Nonna Giulia down the row in search of the candy she always kept in her purse.

“I’m sorry,” Vittoria said with an apologetic smile. “They read this picture book about families at pre-school and now he thinks all men with white hair are grandpas.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I know I’m not gettin’ any younger,” Wayne joked, his eyes straying to the side of the auditorium where the seniors were finally getting ushered into formation.

The Vitale family craned their necks to see their boy, and Wayne in turn searched for his: Eddie was standing near Jeff towards the middle of the line, the two of them engaged in conversation as they waited for everyone to get into their respective places. It wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying; he was clearly answering back and keeping the chat going, but it seemed to his Uncle that he was searching for someone in the crowd, eyes scanning rows of unknown family members for a face he hadn’t yet found. Wayne was about to lift his hand to let him know where he was sitting, but it soon became apparent that Eddie hadn’t been looking for him - he had been looking for the short haired girl who had just ran into the auditorium with a panicked look on her face and an askew cap on her head.

Dottie hurried over to where her classmates were standing, enveloping a curly haired girl Wayne wasn’t familiar with at the very back of the line in an enthusiastic hug before doing the same with Donny. Wayne saw with an amused smile how Eddie waited patiently for his turn while she hugged Jeff, and how all his anxiety looked like it was melting away as he embraced her, eyes closed and face buried in her hair. After saying their hellos, Dottie kept walking to the front of the line where she greeted a strawberry blonde girl with excited hops and shared an equally loving hug with both her and Gareth. Her dad watched her with a fond smile from his place near the doors, a program held tightly in his hands. Taking pity on the poor man who Wayne knew was attending the event alone much like he was, he motioned for James to join their mismatched group who gladly took the offer, walking briskly towards the still empty seat next to Eddie’s uncle. James greeted Donny’s family before getting comfortable on his wooden chair and let a long breath out. Finally.

“Long morning?” Wayne asked, knowingly.

“Be grateful you don’t have a teenage girl in your house, Wayne. It was near impossible to get here on time,” James scoffed.

“Can’t be worse than Ed’s allergy to his damn alarm clock. It went off for a whole 15 minutes before he got up today.”

“Did it wake you up?”

“Nah. Was already up reading the paper but I wasn’t about to turn it off for him. He just rolls over and keeps sleeping if I do,” he said, and James shook his head with an affectionate smile on his face.

“Teenagers, right?”

“Yup. Teenagers.”

Over the few short months Wayne and James had known each other, they had learned to appreciate the quiet but hard work the other did for their respective kid. It wasn’t easy to be a single father, and even though Wayne wasn’t Eddie’s biological dad, there was no doubt in James’ mind that he fulfilled that role wonderfully in the boy’s life and heart. The Munsons and the Burkes had gone through a lot over the years, that much was undeniable, but on that hot Friday morning both fathers could be proud that their kids had made it to the other side relatively unharmed, all the while somehow finding each other to rely on along the way. If Dottie and Eddie were going to be inseparable all summer as they had been since the day they met, it was only fair James and Wayne got to compare notes on parenting and commiserate over the little annoying things they’d miss once the kids had left the comforting safety of their family homes.

Before they could continue their talk however, teachers began herding the seniors into a neat single file and getting into their places on the stage, Principal Higgins taking his spot behind the lectern. Excitement amplified as the crowd hushed - only suppressed coughs and a few little children’s voices could be heard in the quiet room. Wayne saw Higgins approach the mic and took a deep breath letting the pride he’d been feeling all morning take over him. The heat of the almost-here summer was forgotten outside in the parking lot, along with his smushed cigarette butt and the heavy weight he’d been carrying since a CPS agent left a scared 8-year-old Eddie on his doorstep all those years ago.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Hawkins High School Principal Thomas Higgins,” the man began, voice booming across the room with the aid of loudspeakers; Dorothy peered at him over the shoulder of the taller girl standing in front of her. “On behalf of the faculty, staff, and administration of Hawkins High, we’d like to welcome family and friends, and most importantly, to our seniors to the Commencement Exercises of the Graduating Class of 1986.”

Higgins paused for effect and the crowd followed his cue by breaking into happy applause - the aforementioned seniors gleefully waved to the few family members they could find within the sea of heads straining to look at them. The Class of ‘86 stood patiently to the side towards the back of the auditorium, waiting to be called into the main aisle where their names would be announced one by one and they’d go up the stage, accept their diploma, and go back downstairs to the rows of chairs at the front left that had been reserved for them. The full graduating class was small, no more than 40 students, and Dottie wondered how different things would have been for her if she were graduating with her New York classmates in a year that comprised around 400 kids instead of doing it in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Please, rise from your seats and join us in singing the National Anthem, followed by the Hawkins High School Spirit Song,” Higgins announced, and the sound of creaking wooden chairs filled the air as everyone followed his request.

Dottie sang along to the National Anthem without thinking too much about it, but when the first notes of the Hawkins High school song came through the speakers, she realized she had no idea what the lyrics were. No one had told her they’d be singing it during their only rehearsal, and certainly no one had spared a moment to teach it to her in the last six months. She wasn’t even sure she knew a spirit song even existed before that very moment. Eyes surveying over the crowd of family members, she saw that most if not all were singing along - the only ones not joining in were probably those who hadn’t attended Hawkins High and lived in a different town, perhaps even in a different state altogether. Heat rising up her chest under her dark green gown, she turned her head to the front, feeling very much like an outsider amongst her peers for the first time in months. Bryan Butler right behind her sang louder as the song was ending and she tried to not call attention to herself to let him take the spotlight. Once the music stopped, Principal Higgins neared the lectern to continue his speech.

“Thank you, you may be seated now,” Higgins said, and the wooden creaking resumed for a second as everyone sat back down to watch the rest of the ceremony. “The Hawkins High School Class of 1986 has experienced many memorable moments over the last four years, and Hawkins is proud of how these young graduates have worked and persevered through hard times to get to this day. We as faculty could not be prouder or more thrilled to celebrate with them, and we look forward to sending them off onto the next chapter in their lives. Parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and other family members, we are honored to have you here today as our guests to celebrate our graduates and we thank you for your support. Please clap along as the Class of 1986 proceeds to their places.”

The speakers began playing Pomp and Circumstance March No.1 in D and the crowd broke into fervent applause once more, Michael Allen leading the way for his fellow seniors to stand in the central aisle right below the middle set of stairs where they’d wait to be called to the stage. As they fell into their designated spots, Dottie finally recognized who had been assigned to stand right in front of her; it was Robin Buckley, the shy band nerd she had met at Family Video a few weeks earlier and briefly bonded with over their shared love of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was wearing white Converse sneakers with little drawings in blue and black ink, and the edges of her black rolled up jeans could be seen poking below her gown. She’s so cool, Dottie thought, not knowing that Robin was desperately trying not to scan the audience lest her nerves paralyzed her. Not even painting her nails bright orange had saved them from being chewed on this time around.

“Hawkins High School’s Class of 1986 was given the opportunity to choose a member of our staff to read their names as they cross the stage today,” Principal Higgins explained as three people already on stage stood from their seats. “I am honored to announce that this year, our Assistant Principal Mrs. Elaine Chandler will present the diplomas to our newest graduates. Mrs. Suzanne O’Donnell, Mr. Leopold Hauser, and myself will present them with their diploma cover, graduation medallions, and honor cords if applicable. Elaine?” he motioned for her to switch places with him.

“Thank you, Principal Higgins,” said Assistant Principal Elaine Chandler, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she looked down the list of names in front of her. “Allen, Michael,” she called first from behind the lectern, and the crowd clapped as Michael went up to her and received a hug and a rolled up certificate before moving down the stage towards the other teachers to shake their hands.

Dottie’s palms began sweating as more names kept being called and her time as a Hawkins High student slowly came to an end. Even though she had felt very much like an intruder looking in through a window during her first few months in the town, she had to admit that was happy here now - certainly much more happier than she’d ever been back in New York. Here all the teachers knew her name without having to read it from a file. Here she had a group of friends she’d go to literal Hell and back for, and she had a boyfriend who loved her the way she’d always thought love should be: easy and gentle. Here she had attended the best prom of her life, and her face would be permanently attached to a club that had given her the safety she’d never gotten anywhere else to finally, truthfully, be herself. Here Dottie had been at home.

While Barnes, Kathleen was getting her extracurricular honor cords for being part of the cheerleading team, Mrs. Chandler called upon Buckley, Robin and Dottie suddenly found herself at the front of the line. Robin climbed the steps with as much grace as she could muster while being pretty much mortified, and Mrs. Chandler soothed her with friendly pats on her back before presenting her with her diploma. The tall girl accepted it with shaky hands, her rings glinting under the stage lights, when a loud cheer rang above the polite applause of the crowd. Robin laughed, half embarrassed and half grateful, and when Dottie turned to see where the sounds were coming from, she found not only Dustin and Erica hooting and hollering besides a couple who were clearly Robin’s parents, but also that Steve guy that worked at Family Video with her, the one that Robin had described as her strictly platonic best friend with a capital P. It looked like retail did bond you forever after all.

Mr. and Mrs. Buckley looked between confused and amused as Steve pinched his bottom lip and let out a loud whistle - a chortle escaped Robin’s mouth while a cheerful Mr. Hauser, who had been her favorite teacher all four years of high school, put her graduation medallion around her neck, nerves all but forgotten before she skipped her way down to Mrs. O’Donnell to receive her extracurricular honor cords for being in band. Huh, that’s curious, Dottie thought distractedly. Didn’t know Dustin and Erica were such good friends with her and Steve. I wonder how they met.

“Burke, Dorothy,” called Mrs. Chandler through the speakers, jostling Dottie out of her musings.

This was it. The moment of truth. Dottie climbed the stairs and accepted a hug from Mrs. Chandler, hearing her friends cheering for her loudly in the background when her damp fingers came into contact with her diploma. She glanced at the crowd and time seemed to stop when her eyes found her Dad, a proud smile on his face and his program tucked under his armpit so he could clap loudly for his daughter. She waved at him and Wayne, who had also stood up to cheer for her, and time resumed after a blinding flash went off and she was whisked along to where the rest of the teachers were standing. She shook hands with both Principal Higgins and Mr. Hauser even though she hardly knew both men, and accepted her diploma cover and her graduation medallion before turning towards Mrs. O’Donnell. She was about to hug her teacher when the old woman presented her with her own honor cords, entwined green and orange ending in delicate tassels dangling from her manicured hands.

“That’s not- I’m not-” Dottie began.

“You have one of the highest GPAs in your year, besides being involved in two extracurriculars. Congratulations, Miss Burke. You’ve earned this,” O’Donnell said, and it was perhaps the only time in the whole semester Dottie had seen her genuinely smile.

“T-thank you,” she managed to get out, letting the woman drape the cords on her shoulders and rushing to her seat before she began bawling on stage.

“Hey, congrats!” Robin whispered once they were both seated next to each other, shaking her own cords lightly. The ceremony continued with no regards to their little chat.

“You too! Didn’t know I had qualified for any of this, I think everyone saw me have an aneurism up there.”

“Nah, everyone’s too nervous about not tripping down the stairs on their way back, don’t worry about it.”

“Coleman, Gareth,” Mrs. Chandler announced, grabbing Dottie’s attention.

Carver, Jason hadn’t even reached the sidestage stairs to go down after accepting his diploma when Gareth, in his haste to get everything over with, tried to climb two steps at a time and got his feet tangled in his dark green gown. Cunningham, Chrissy, who was right behind him, quickly caught his arm before he could lose balance and hit the floor. He quietly thanked her with red cheeks and embarrassed eyes before he finally went up the stairs, one step at a time. Chrissy went back to the front of the line while other classmates around Dottie and Robin snickered at the little mishap; Gareth accepted his diploma and other paraphernalia, and got the hell off the stage as quickly as humanly possible.

“Thank God that wasn’t me,” Robin muttered, and Dottie grimaced in agreement.

Gareth ended up awkwardly sitting between Jason and Chrissy, but much to his relief, they had all been assigned to the row behind Dottie. Taking advantage of the proximity, he leaned forward to talk to his friend as the ceremony progressed and Chrissy quickly joined, stopping to give Dottie a kiss on her cheek from her seat behind her as a second greeting. Jason watched the scene unfold and asked himself when had his girlfriend started hanging out with people he didn’t know. He thought he knew everything about Chrissy - when had that changed and to what extent? Selfishly, he couldn’t help but think about what the future would look like for them when they left for college. Chrissy was headed to OSU and he would be at Indiana State, almost four hours and more than 250 miles between them. Would this be their last summer together? He didn’t like to entertain that thought.

Davis, Monica, Foster, Kyle, and Hanson, Randall were some of the names they didn’t pay much attention to until Humphrey, Andrew was called to the stage. Jason distracted himself from his anxiety over his relationship possibly having an expiration date by clapping loudly for his best friend. Dottie and Gareth shared a mischievous look: Andy wasn’t wearing any bandages on his nose anymore, but the dark purple shadow under his eye was still very visible with the bright stage lights illuminating his face. After him came Hurley, Marcie, one of Dot’s colleagues from the newspaper club, and Kemper, Lucy, the girl who had sold almost everyone their prom tickets. Morgan, Theresa was on stage when Dottie realized she knew almost all the people in her graduating class by name now, even if they had never spoken to one another before. In New York, she’d never known the names of all the people within a single class, not since elementary school at least. She wondered if they remembered her, but then decided she didn’t care that the answer was probably a resounding no.

When Munson, Edward was called to the stage, Dottie and Gareth stood up to make as much noise as possible, both infinitely proud of the long haired boy with the charming eyes who was accepting the one piece of paper that had seemed so elusive all this time. Dustin and Erica hollered at him, and the rest of the Hellfire Club, still in line waiting to accept their diplomas, joined them in their antics. When Principal Higgins went in for a handshake, Eddie pulled him into a hug; the older man laughed and let it happen, a sort of fondness for the metalhead’s unwavering resilience present in their interaction. He accepted his medallion and his own honor cords for being the Chapter Leader of a student organization, and just before he climbed off, he approached the edge of the stage with a dazzling grin.

“Here it comes,” Dottie muttered, anticipating her boyfriend to give the middle finger to the entire town and bolt as he had declared he’d do on multiple occasions.

What Eddie did instead was find his Uncle in the crowd and bow deeply in his direction as people clapped for him like it was the end of a play. Wayne pretended to not be choking back tears as his nephew got off the stage, lips pursed behind his fingers trying to hide the grin threatening to break out on his face.

“Coward,” Gareth said, and Chrissy hit him in the shoulder.

There was no time for Eddie to do anything more but find his seat, because immediately after him came Patton, Jeffrey, and exactly ten names later, came Vitale, Donatello. The teachers laughed and cooed at his excited nephews jumping up and down the aisle, cheering for his favorite Uncle. One day in the not so distant future, they’d probably be handing them their diplomas too. Just how many faces in the crowd had walked through these same halls, attended the same classes, and some of them even had the same teachers as the Class of ‘86? A much younger and recently married O’Donnell, a Higgins as a History teacher prior to his Principal days, a Kaminski after his eldest son had just been born. Never before had the kids in the Hellfire Club felt as much part of the Hawkins High community as they did now - it almost felt unfair that they had to permanently leave the place to finally feel that way.

“And last, but certainly not least,” said Mrs. Chandler when there was only one person left to climb up the stage. “-Wheeler, Nancy, the valedictorian for the Class of 1986 who will say a few words for us and her fellow graduates after receiving her diploma.”

The crowd broke once again in loud applause as a red cheeked Nancy in her dark green gown and bright orange valedictorian stole greeted all her teachers with a few flashcards containing her speech in her hand. Karen Wheeler looked at her daughter with shiny eyes, infinitely proud of her little girl that’d grown into a smart, capable woman right in front of her. In a few months she’d be far away, following her dreams, and taking a piece of her mother’s hopes with her as she did so, but none of her fears. Holly raised her arms, silently asking to be lifted up so she could see better, and Karen picked up her youngest daughter, pointing at her big sister in the distance so she could wave at her. Nancy took her place behind the lectern and looked at the audience, a carefully put together mask over bittersweet eyes that Dottie had almost become used to seeing on her friend. If she stared into a mirror too deeply, she could recognize the dents in her skin of her own mask, now laying shattered at her feet.

“Honorable guests, Principal Higgins, Hawkins High School faculty, academic and supporting staff, friends, families, and graduates - good morning,” Nancy began, voice soft but pleasantly clear. “It is with great pride that I stand here before you on such a special occasion to deliver this speech, which I promise I’ll try to keep short and sweet,” she lightheartedly smiled at her audience before she grew solemn once more. “However, before I start, I would like to ask you to join me in a moment of silence to commemorate the students and family members who could not be here today with us, and to remember the victims of the Starcourt Mall Fire on July 4th, 1985.”

Not a sound could be heard for a few heartbeats, and Dottie watched the faces of the town she’d come to love morph from amused to weary. There was real mourning here, a deep gash left open in a community that couldn’t heal properly because some wounds were just too deep to scab over. Eddie had told her everything he knew about what had happened, the official story everyone that hadn’t been involved in the tragedy repeated when asked, and her heart constricted when she saw Dustin and Erica in their seats with their heads down. They looked downright haunted. Steve sat next to them, watching over them with such turmoil in his eyes that Dottie had to wonder if there was something they were all missing about what happened. Had Steve also been in the mall with them? Had Robin, who was quietly sitting next to her like she was reliving a horror movie behind her eyes, her fingers absentmindedly tangling and untangling themselves in her honor cords?

Karen, sitting next to her unaware husband and emotionally closed off son, took a few deep breaths to keep her tears at bay and gently kissed Holly’s head before shifting her baby on her lap to hold her against her chest more tightly, like someone could snatch her off her arms at any given moment. Dottie twisted her mom’s engagement ring on her left middle finger and bit the inside of her cheek while blinking away the wetness gathering on her lash line. Not now, she scolded herself. Later.

“Thank you,” Nancy said, breaking the silence and moving onto her next flashcard. “Four years ago, we arrived at Hawkins High as children, and we are now leaving as young adults with our whole lives ahead of us. Some will go on to college, others will enter the workforce, but all of us will take the lessons learned here and let them guide us to become who we were always meant to be,” she turned to look to her side. “I'd like to thank our teachers for sharing their knowledge with us, for being patient and pushing us to achieve great things. With their help, our Hawkins High Mathletes reached their first ever state finals and brought home the silver medal earlier this year.”

There was a loud cheer coming from somewhere in the auditorium that sounded very much like Rick Stewart, exiting Captain of the Hawkins High Mathletes. Some people laughed goodnaturedly and joined in, the teachers clapping proudly at their labor being recognized. Nancy smiled and continued, knowing the applause would only get louder as she read the next part of her speech.

“I'd like to thank our coaches and counselors for making school more than just homework. You taught us about discipline, teamwork, and integrity, which led our basketball team to win the 1A North Central Conference Championship for the first time in 22 years,” the applause that followed was deafening, and it took several minutes for it to die down before Nancy could keep going. “I'd like to thank our families for supporting us in more ways that we could ever count, for chaperoning our dances and field trips, cheering for us at our sporting events, and attending all our plays with so much love and commitment, that our Drama Club was able to extend their winter run of West Side Story with a packed audience every night until their closure.”

The cheers this time were much more subdued, yet polite and sustained enough to not be embarrassing to the Drama Club members and their families in the audience. It was clear, however, where the town’s loyalties stood: Indiana’s love for basketball was known throughout the country, and Hawkins wasn’t the exception to the rule. Nancy looked at her graduating class and grabbed the last two flashcards in her pile.

“No one achieves success alone, and we are truly grateful for the help and guidance we’ve received during our years as Hawkins Tigers. However, if my classmates indulge me for a second, I’d like to ask each of you to think about a moment where you felt proud of yourself. Think about the things you’ve accomplished here, and the challenges you’ve overcome. A great woman by the name of Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote, you gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do. Our time as Hawkins High School students has come to an end. We did it, Class of ‘86. We did the thing we thought we couldn’t do, and we’ve learned that we can take the next thing that comes along, so keep moving forward. I’m proud of you, and I hope you are too. Thank you, and congratulations to us all.”

Dottie followed Nancy with her eyes as she shook Principal Higgins’ hand once more and left the stage towards her seat. Her hands were shaking lightly, and her lips were pursed, but she almost looked lighter, like she’d left significant weight behind that had nothing to do with public speaking related nerves. Nancy’s speech had been beautiful, there were no doubts about that, but it was strange to think about someone like her looking at her high school years as something that had been horrific to live through. She was popular enough to not have been bullied, pretty enough to have been desired and looked up to, smart and well-off enough to never have to worry about not fitting in.

High school was certainly hard for almost everyone, but the way Nancy had spoken about it left a familiar bitter taste in Dottie’s mouth. If Eddie had been right when retelling her the town’s recent strange happenings, Nancy had probably been thinking about her friend Barb when writing her speech. She would have most likely graduated alongside her, maybe she’d be headed to a nearby college where the two girls could still see each other often, or to a completely different one across the country and they’d have to call every weekend with updates on their new lives. Holland, Barbara should have been called up to the stage between Hall, Suzanne and Humphrey, Andrew, but now she was just another name added to the always-growing list of people who ought to have been there, but ultimately couldn’t be.

“Thank you for that inspiring speech, Miss Wheeler,” said Principal Higgins, returning to his place behind the lectern to close out the ceremony. “Graduating is an amazing achievement for these students, and we here at Hawkins High are excited to see the things they’ll accomplish in the future. By the authority vested in me by the Governor of the State of Indiana, Mr. Robert D. Orr, I confer the appropriate diplomas for the Class of 1986. Graduates, please move your tassels to the left,” he smiled at his now former students. “Congratulations Tigers, you can now throw your hats!”

As they had been instructed during rehearsals, they threw their hats directly above them, not wanting to lose them on the way down before they could take pictures with them but in the excitement and elation of the graduates, some caps ended up on the floor, prompting kids to search for the lost items under their chairs while their classmates cheered above them and congratulated one another. Dottie hugged Robin again while Principal Higgins said his goodbyes through the loudspeaker without anyone really hearing him, families eager to leave the auditorium and get into their cars quickly to avoid the inevitable bottleneck at the entrance of the parking lot.

“Thank you all for coming and being part of this special moment,” Higgins said, voice ringing above the loud chatter and scraping of chairs. “Please drive safe and have a good weekend!”

“Dad!” Dottie called upon seeing James talking to Gareth’s family near their cars. He waved at her in acknowledgment and she turned to her friend to say her goodbyes. “I’ll call you as soon as I have my new schedule down, okay? We can go to the movies some day!”

“I’m gonna go see family up North next week, but I’ll call you when I get back,” Chrissy said, arm still tangled with hers. “We have to go see the new Karate Kid coming out soon, Ralph Macchio is so cute.”

“I’m not even gonna correct you on that because I do wanna see it with you, but just know I think you’re crazy,” the brunette said, laughing at her friend.

“Well, excuse me, bad boys aren’t everyone’s type,” the blonde retorted, a secretive grin gracing her fairy-like features before she pulled her into a goodbye hug. “I’m gonna miss you!”

“We’ll see each other soon! You go have a great trip, forget about this boring town for a while.”

After the girls said their goodbyes and went in separate directions, Dottie watched Chrissy greet her family with curious eyes. She didn’t know much about the Cunninghams and was surprised to see that her newest and most unlikely friend had a little brother she had never mentioned before. He must have not been the right age to be in high school yet or he’d probably be under Jason’s overprotective wing, especially if he was athletic like his big sister.

Chrissy might have looked small and dainty, but there was a certain fierceness cheerleaders had in their step - their aura had been painstakingly trained to command a room and demand attention. And yet, Dottie noticed that as Chrissy turned from her unassuming Dad to her elegant Mother, the brightness she radiated seemed to dim ever so slightly, even if her charming smile stayed in place.

“There you are! I was looking for you everywhere,” James exclaimed, her thoughts instantly lost to the wind. “Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dottie melted into his hug, knocking her cap even more askew with his shoulder. “They gave me honor cords, did you see? I didn’t know I had earned them!”

“I’m seeing them now! You worked so hard, good job.”

“Congratulations, sweetie!” Lydia, Gareth’s mom, said, pulling her into a hug. “Have you met Gretchen yet? Gare’s big sister?”

“Hey, congrats,” Gretchen said with a polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, hi! It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” Gretchen said, eyes sparkling with mischief as she saw Gareth approach with two more kids toddling behind him. “I’m always really curious to meet any girl who would even talk to my brother in the first place, but you seem normal enough.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Gareth said, and Erica snickered.

“Honestly, he’s lucky we’re nice to him,” the middle-grader joined in, making Gareth groan in annoyance.

“You’re my friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Congrats, Dot!” Dustin said, hugging the older girl from her right side, prompting Erica to cuddle up to her on the left. “We’re super proud of you.”

“Aw, Dus,” she pouted, leaning her head on his. He really was like the little brother she’d always wanted and never had. “Thank you, you’re so sweet. I’m happy you two could be here!”

“It was fun! We enjoyed it.”

“I saw you guys with that Steve guy earlier, did you come with him?”

“You know Steve?” Dustin said, curious.

“Yeah, he works at Family Video with Robin!” Dottie said.

“You know Robin?” it was Erica’s turn to ask.

“Uh, yeah, we’re classmates? She was sitting next to me throughout the ceremony- wait, how do you know them? What am I missing here?”

“Nothing! Steve’s, uh- Steve’s our babysitter!” Dustin hurried to say. “Did you know he used to date Nancy a while ago? That’s how we met, through Nancy. And we know Robin through Steve. Hawkins is a very small place.”

“W-what? Nancy and…”

“Yeah, she dumped him in front of everyone at a party and he’s been all mopey and sad since then,” Erica said, prompting Dustin to elbow her. “What? Just the facts!”

“Uh…,” Dottie looked at Gareth, dumbfounded.

“Anyway,” Dustin continued, aware that multiple eyes were on him. “He’s our babysitter.”

“Dustin, you’re fifteen,” Gareth laughed. “You’re a little old to still have a babysitter.”

“My Mom’s protective of me, okay? I’m an only child.”

“And he’s a good babysitter?” Dottie asked, amused.

“The best. Steve’s… yeah, Steve’s great. More like an older brother figure than a babysitter,” Dustin smiled, clearly fond of the older boy. “You should hang out with him, I think you’d like each other.”

“Stop. Just stop,” said Erica, knowing where Dustin was headed.

“What?” he shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Alright, let’s take some pictures!” said Lydia, not having paid any attention to the kids’ conversation.

While they were in the middle of taking photos, the remaining Hellfire Class of ‘86 joined the group with their respective families. Eddie snuck up behind Dottie while she was distracted taking a picture with Jeff and picked her up, arms encircling her middle and spinning her around while she giggled unabashedly, hands coming to rest on his forearms when he put her down but didn’t let go. Wayne had to hide a chuckle while he talked to the other parents; his nephew really wasn’t as smooth and mysterious as he thought he was, and Wayne had been around the sun too many times to not recognize what he was seeing between Eddie and his little lady friend. Gretchen, in turn, looked at Donny and lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“What have I missed?” she quietly said, a smirk lifting the corner of her lips. She’d always liked Donny the best out of all his brother’s friends, and was aware that as much of a good confidant as he was, he never shied away from gossip.

“He said he wanted to wait until after graduation to ask her out so I don’t think anything has happened yet,” Donny muttered back, crossing his arms and leaning closer to her friend’s big sister. “They’re totally gone for each other, though.”

“You don’t say,” Gretchen said and turned to Erica who looked very interested in their conversation. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s too chicken to ask her out,” Erica laughed. “But they have been looking really cozy lately. That’s suspicious.”

“Eddie knows she’s into him,” Donny said, making Erica’s eyes widen. “Forgot to tell you about that.”

“You bastard, I thought we had a good thing going and you’re withholding information from me? Nuh-uh, this is betrayal. I want reparations.”

“Oh, she’s feisty,” Gretchen said.

“Come to the restaurant this weekend, I’ll give you ice cream and we can catch up and compare notes,” Donny offered, genuinely interested in keeping his friendship with the fiery younger girl intact. “But it has to be this weekend, Dot starts working with us on Monday.”

“How big is that ice cream?”

“Big as you want.”

“Deal,” she put out her hand for them to shake on it, but it was merely a formality - Donatello Vitale had no intentions of ever crossing the one and only Erica Sinclair again.

As families began saying their goodbyes and heading to their cars, it soon became clear that Eddie and Dottie did not want the festivities to end so fast. They’d already taken multiple photos with everyone and with each other, waved Dustin and Erica off as they climbed into Steve’s red BMW, and even said hello to the Wheelers, but they would just not leave each other’s side, always fluttering around one another no matter what was happening. If James thought anything strange about it, he didn’t mention it, but as Wayne looked at his nephew’s beaming smile, he realized he didn’t have the heart to cut his happiness short when there was such an easy solution to their problem.

“You two have any plans for lunch?” Wayne asked James, finishing up another smoke.

“Not really, no. I was thinking of picking up some burgers to celebrate. Why? You have any suggestions?”

“Well, me an’ Eddie like to go to the diner down on Randolph on special occasions. Thought you might want to join us,” he smiled at the kids who were now both staring at him expectantly.

“Can we go, Dad?” Dottie asked with hopeful eyes. “They have crinkle fries - you love crinkle fries!”

“That’s really kind of you, Wayne, but we don’t want to intrude,” James was saying, but Eddie hurried forward.

“You wouldn’t be intruding, sir. We both graduated today, we can celebrate together!”

“Come on, Dad, they wouldn’t ask if they didn’t want us there.”

Both older men looked at each other with knowing eyes and James sighed theatrically before conceding, his daughter cheering happily at the new impromptu plans. The teens quickly headed in the direction of their cars deep in their own happy little world; their parents amusedly looked as Eddie opened her door for her and helped her in while they talked about burger combinations and debated about their orders.

“Meet you there?” James asked Wayne, also getting into his car.

“You bet. Come on, boy, quit the yappin’. You’ll see her again in ten minutes, she’s not gonna run away from you!”

“Jesus Christ, Wayne!”

Eddie and Dottie had already been to the diner down on Randolph a few times; some of them before they’d begun dating and once after, but never with their parental figures as unofficial chaperones. The booth at the back they loved to sit at was occupied, so they chose a table near the front instead - the diner was bustling with energy as multiple families had had the same idea as them and got a headstart on their kids’ summer holidays. Eddie helped Dottie with her chair, thoroughly enjoying how shy she’d get whenever he did something remotely gentleman-like, and plonked himself next to her, quickly engaging in conversation about the menu she was holding. James had no option but to sit in front of his daughter as Wayne took the seat in front of Eddie, both of them also busying themselves with their own menus.

The teens tried to act normal in front of their elders, they really did, but it was such a lovely day, and they were celebrating one of the biggest achievements in their short lives that it was as if they’d forgotten that friends didn’t usually look so smitten with one another. Wayne took little peeks at them over the bright laminated piece of paper in his hands, catching how Eddie was stroking the side of her arm resting on the table with his pinky finger while she talked; he loudly coughed when James put his menu down and took his reading glasses off, the unexpected sound making them jump and separate instantly just in time for him not to see them. A young and friendly looking waitress approached their table, pad of paper and pen in her hand.

“Hi! Are you ready for me to take your order or are we waiting for the wives to arrive?” she said with a perfect customer-service smile. Dottie blinked up at her twice, her face morphing into a blank expression.

“No, thank you, it’s just gonna be us four today,” James said politely.

Today, he’d said. Like Margaret and Maureen were off doing other things, like working or shopping or attending a jazzercise class, and couldn’t join them for lunch but they’d probably be around later. Like they weren’t gone forever. Like they were still alive. Nancy’s speech rattled around in Dottie’s brain, her eyes glazing over and her ears filling with invisible cotton. James and Wayne ordered their food, and Eddie ordered for both himself and her, very much aware that something was bothering her. Her sight was stuck to her Dad’s hand resting on the cheap laminate tabletop. The gold band that had been there on his finger since Margaret and him had said I do all those years ago taunted her, glinting under the fluorescent lights of the diner. They’d promised each other forever, and what did they get? What did she get?

“Dot,” Eddie muttered, hand sneaking down the table to settle on the exposed skin of her knee. “Darling, can you hear me?”

“Huh?” she turned to look at him in a daze.

Behind him, there was a table where a family sat: a father, a mother and a daughter, barely older than she’d been when she’d lost the most important woman in her life. The baby gurgled in her Mom’s arms, and the woman cooed at her, noses nuzzling against each other’s. Dottie turned her head towards the other side of the diner where a mother was cleaning up a little boy’s face, chocolate staining his chubby cheeks.

She had just graduated from high school and her mother wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there when she got her first period, during her first heartbreak, or when she won a spelling bee at age seven. She wouldn’t be there when she graduated college, when she got her first job, when she got married to the boy who was holding onto her leg with worried eyes. She would never be there, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. It was always going to be just them.

“Honey, are you okay?” James asked, leaning forward.

“I-I’m sorry,” she managed to get out before she stood up and bolted outside and into the parking lot, her chair scraping against the floor in her haste to get out of the diner.

“I’ve got it, sir,” Eddie said before he sped after her, his chains rattling with every long step he took to catch up with her.

In silence, James and Wayne watched their kids through the huge windows next to their table. When Dottie saw Eddie running behind her, she turned her back on him, hugging herself as she tried to keep her emotions together. She lifted a hand to wave at him over her shoulder and said something - probably that she was okay, that she didn’t need help so he should go back in - but as he came closer, it was evident that the storm that had been brewing inside her all morning was on the brink of overtaking her. All it took was feeling his hand hovering on her shoulder for her knees to buckle as she folded onto herself, Eddie instantly rushing forward to catch her and pulling her into his chest, her back rising up and down violently as she sobbed into his graduation gown. He chewed on his lower lip as he held himself together, never one to cry in public where people could see him and judge him for it. He muttered something into her hair, his chin resting onto the crown of her head, gently rocking her side to side as her sobs subsided.

“She was really lonely until we came here, y’know,” James said, breaking the quiet that had fallen on their table. Wayne could only look at his nephew, the gentleness he’d always known he’d possessed perfectly on display. “All her new friends are great to her but Eddie… you’ve got a good boy there, Wayne.”

“They’re both good kids,” Wayne said, matter-of-factly. “It’s a damn shame they’re so young and been through so much already.”

“Yeah, it is.”

In the parking lot, unaware that they were being watched, Dottie lifted her head from Eddie’s chest, an embarrassed smile on her lips as she fanned her face with her hands in an attempt to dry her tears without ruining what was left of her mascara. Eddie, still holding onto her, blew on her cheeks; she laughed, heart feeling equally heavy and light at the same time. There was joy and levity to be found in shared grief, that was something new she had learned from him.

“Sometimes I feel like Eddie understands her better than I do,” James admitted, fingers toying with his wedding band.

“They understand each other in ways that you and I never will,” Wayne mused. “That ain’t a bad thing. Actually, I think it might be healthy.”

“Mhm,” James agreed, half lost in his own thoughts.

Dottie squeezed Eddie one last time like she was mentally preparing herself, gathering strength for whatever came next, and nodded once to let him know that it was okay to let her go. Eddie followed her inside quietly, holding the door open for her as they filed in and sat once again at their table. They both looked very tired, and perhaps even a little bit flustered at having to face their guardians after bolting out of the diner so unexpectedly. Dottie leaned forward to grab a napkin to blow her nose.

“M’sorry,” she said, eyes low. James grabbed her hand gently.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. S’just a lot, you know?”

“I know,” her Dad said, watching her glance at Eddie next to her.

“Can I… is it okay if Eddie and I go to the lake after lunch?” she asked, shy. “We want to burn some cards.”

“Yeah, of course,” James said, knot tightening at the base of his throat and fingers tangling with his daughter’s.

Eddie was silent through the entire interaction, hands hellbent on shredding the paper napkin in front of him to minuscule pieces. Wayne could feel their table shake as he bounced his leg frantically, something he had long understood as his nephew’s tell when holding back tears. The waitress, unaware of what had just transpired, came back at that moment with their drinks and two milkshakes for the teens. Dottie smiled at them with wet eyes, and Eddie had the indecency to look sheepish: she hadn’t mentioned to him she wanted one, but he knew she loved strawberry milkshakes from this specific diner because they made them with real strawberry ice cream and not the powder. He must have ordered them when she blanked out. The simple gesture felt like balm for her anguished soul.

“Well, I’d like to propose a toast,” Wayne said, dissipating the remaining uncomfortable tension at their table. “To the Class of ‘86.”

“To the Class of ‘86,” James joined him, clicking their bottles of Coke together in the air.

Food arrived shortly after, and as an easy conversation sanded whatever edges were still sharp for the moment, Wayne observed the tender behavior of the kids sitting in front of him. It wasn’t as playful as it had been before, no, this felt much more… intimate. Considerate. Muted, yet still softhearted. Not missing a beat in the story she was telling to her Dad, Dottie grabbed the cherry on top of her milkshake and left it on top of Eddie’s. He gave her a toothy grin before popping it into his mouth, and she shook her head at him fondly. Yeah, this ain’t a bad thing at all, thought Wayne, taking a bite out of his food and laughing along with James at the ridiculous gossip Dottie and Eddie were sharing about their now former classmates.

“Okay, hold on a second before you run off,” Wayne said, as his nephew ushered his friend towards his van.

After lunch was done, it was decided that Wayne would drive Eddie and Dottie back to their trailer so they could get Eddie’s van and head to the lake for what they were calling The Card Ritual. The eldest Munson didn’t really understand what it meant, but it seemed that James knew what they were talking about so he didn’t ask too many questions about it - all he knew was that the kids were going to buy some cards at Melvald’s and then burn them, and that Dottie was emotional over the whole thing. If burning some paper brought peace to her heart, then who was Wayne to judge? He’d indulged in far more destructive coping mechanisms throughout his youth, evidenced by his unshakeable smoking habit.

After they’d said goodbye to James, they climbed into Wayne’s truck and headed to Forest Hills, graduation caps, gowns, and his suit jacket now discarded into the backseat. The heat kept rising in the early afternoon and Wayne just wanted to get out of his clothes, drink a glass of icy cold water, and take a nap in his undergarments next to his trusty fan, but he felt like there was a pressing conversation to be had before he went in and could finally relax on his day off.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked, Dottie coming to a stop next to him.

“I just gotta know, kid,” Wayne turned to her. “Does your Dad know about you two or do I have to play dumb with him?”

“W-what? What do you mean?” she asked, nervously.

“I may not be young, but I ain’t blind, sweetheart,” he smiled. “You’re not in trouble, I just wanna know how to act around your old man, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t know,” Eddie muttered, grabbing Dottie’s hand and surprising her with how quickly he confessed. “No one knows, we haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Except Chrissy,” Dottie said.

“Except Chrissy,” he conceded. “She knows because I asked her for advice, but she’s the only one.”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long has this been going on?” Wayne asked, pulling his lighter out of his pocket.

“Uh, like two weeks? We’re not, like- we’re not official yet,” Eddie scratched his neck uncomfortably.

“Not offi- Edward,” his Uncle hardened his stare. “I taught you better than that.”

“Shit, I swear I was gonna do it today! Wanted to wait until after graduation, I’m not trying to be a flake-”

“It’s okay! We talked about it,” Dottie said, hanging onto his arm. “I don’t mind waiting, we just thought it’d be best to keep it a secret for now,” Wayne turned to look at her, wary. “Mr. Wayne, please, I’d announce it at the next Town Hall meeting if he’d let me.”

“We share all the same friends,” Eddie explained. “They’ll wanna know all the details, and I just- she breaks up with me and I’m the biggest loser in Hawkins, you know how those assholes are.”

“Oh my god, stop calling yourself a loser!” she whined.

“Don’t break up with me, and I won’t be!” he argued back, but it was clear he was being silly about it.

“Okay, so what’s the situation here? You two dating or not?” Wayne asked, getting back on topic.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, smiling down at her with hearts in his eyes. “We’re dating. I was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend officially later today but I might as well do it now since you’re so nosy.”

“It’s not like anything’s changing anyways,” Dottie said. “We just didn’t put a label on it, but I’ve kinda been his girlfriend since that party we went to a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hell yeah you are. And I’m your boyfriend, right?”

“No, you’re my private driver,” she deadpanned. “Of course you are, Eddie, what kind of question is that?”

“Just making sure, darling,” Eddie said, and Wayne snorted at how smug his nephew looked.

“Well, then… you two can go now, I guess. I’ll keep the secret.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne,” Dottie said, coming to hug him. “We’ll tell people soon, we just want a little bit of privacy for now. The guys can be so nosy sometimes.”

“Don’t I know that, kid,” he chuckled. “I’m real happy for you two.”

“I’m really happy too,” she whispered to him, a bashful smile on her face.

Eddie finally let her into his van, her white sundress and summery sandals a stark contrast against his ripped jeans and chains. They were an odd couple if one only looked at their clothes, but it was so clear that they vibrated at the same frequency that Wayne couldn’t help but think that he should have expected this development sooner. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to believe them when they’d said nothing had happened between them the night of the party. His nephew went towards the driver’s seat when he called to him again.

“Ed, a word,” he was dead serious as Eddie jogged to where he was standing.

“Yeah?”

“You treat that girl right, okay?” Wayne said, voice low so she wouldn’t hear from the van. “I don’t wanna hear shit from her Dad about you bein’ stupid with her.”

“I know.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not gonna fuck this up, Wayne. I love her,” Eddie told him, so sure of what he was saying that it knocked the wind out of his Uncle’s lungs for a bit.

“Love, huh?” Wayne laughed softly, and Eddie shrugged with red ears but looked so very happy. “Go, have fun. And take care of her.”

“I will,” he nodded.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Wayne said, ruffling his hair roughly like when he was just a boy barely taller than his own hip. “And your Momma would be too.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, eyes full of unshed tears. “I’m proud of me too.”

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

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ryuzakemo128 · 3 months ago

Text

Behold A Pale Horse

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x female reader/ you

Content Warning: Kyle Gaz Garrick the son of a billionaire from generations of old money, mental health issues touched on and briefly explored, philosophy explored to an extent, therapist and therapy session briefly inserted. Y/N is not metioned. Reader is called nicknames like: Firecracker.

Words: 5374

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @strangergraphics

Note: Italic writing are your thoughts are. In the case, I might need to tell you before you go ahead and decide to read this.

Note 2: Listening to Moonlight Sonata 1st movement is reccommended in my opinion. But any kind of classical music will fit as well.

Summary: You drape the black shirt over your body like a satin cloak owned by the angel of death and cut from the wings of the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, named Death.

You frowned as you looked at your paycheck, you didn’t know what to think of it. You weren’t used to having a large amount of money. Seventeen thousand pounds for the past month. It wasn’t something you felt like you could get used to anytime soon. You didn’t want to receive the pity of others.

You would rather die than receive the pity of others. Trust no one. Not even the people who call themselves your friend.

Do not mistake their kindness for affection. Show them nothing. Give them nothing.

You drape the black shirt over your body like a satin cloak owned by the angel of death and cut from the wings of the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, named Death.

A loud voice said, come and see. Behold a pale horse. The man that sat upon his steed was death, and hell followed him like a strong stench.

You had seen enough of death to know that the voice was a mere echo of your own thoughts. Taken the name of the Grim Reaper as it was yours to keep close to your heart and soul.

You didn’t care if it was never yours to have in the same sense of those of ‘the faith’. But what they wanted didn’t matter to you.

What you needed was far more substantial, in terms of ‘soul-searching’ and finding yourself all over again. What the fuck does finding ‘your truth’ mean, anyway? It sounds more like an excuse to spend frivolous amounts of money on a useless life coach they don’t need.

You had seen the horrors of war. The screams of the innocent, the smell of burning flesh, the cold touch of death, it all clung to you like a second skin. A reminder of what you had done. What you have been a part of and still work in, manners of death.

You might as well become the fourth horseman of the apocalypse at this stage of your life with all the lives you have taken by your own hand or by the hand of fate, which you had a say in.

The voice, it was, persistent, whispering sweet nothings of destruction into your ears, guiding you through the fog of war like a siren's call leading sailors to their watery graves.

My hands are covered in a sea of blood I will never wash away. Some nights I wake screaming, thinking I’m back there in the middle of the bodies of the people I have given the death sentence to.

I do not wish to be there again.

Ever.

Yet every night I am all the way back.

Over and over again. I see each of their faces painted, tattooed into my subconscious.

I want them to leave. Not only that, but I tell them to leave.

Yet they never seem to listen to me.

As if all I say is empowering them to remain in my mind.

Religion cannot save me.

Therapy is the route I have not taken seriously as of late. It is a sign.

I will go upon this path. Before hell itself consumes my soul.

Father, have I done the right thing?

Mother, are you ashamed of what I have unleashed?

I have created many men and women widows.

Created many children into a mass of orphans.

Yet the superiors of mine clap my shoulder and congratulate me as if I had done the greatest deed man could ever accomplish.

To me? It is the greatest burden I have dealt with.

The weight of their lives on my shoulders, a heavy crown of thorns digging deep into my skin. But I wear it, for the sake of what? The country? The queen? Or the fear that I might just be a monster in the eyes of society.

Yet nothing I could have done while you were alive would have been good enough for either of you.

The push to succeed, much like my older brothers before me. You neglected what I wanted in service to your own needs.

To your own wants and desires. Inside layers of a play written by William Shakespeare.

One where everyone has their part but me. One where everyone knows what their part entails and the consequences that come with it.

But I don't. I am the puppeteer whose strings are tangled, and the puppet is dancing to a tune I never knew.

But you can’t force people to like you. To love you. To adore you.

You cannot force people to do anything.

A dance where everyone expects you to know all the steps of once you have reached a certain point in your life.

“Dr. Stone. I was sincere in hoping therapy might unearth a lot of my….emotional baggage.” You told your doctor.

Your black skirt feeling more like a twisted contraption you were dying to take off by the time you were done in the doctor's office.

Her eyes were kind, understanding, a tad bit pitying. The kind of pity which always seem to make you want to scream. She nodded gently, her long platinum blonde hair brushing past her shoulders.

“It’s okay. Your feelings are valid. The first step is acknowledging that you need help.”

You always had ADHD, but your father didn’t believe it was a cause for alarm. Telling you, it was a hoax from ‘big pharma’ to get people to spend more on medication than to actually help people.

You felt like a burden. A failure. Especially when you were diagnosed with it at seven years old. He would yell at you, scream at you, tell you that you were just being lazy and that you needed to pay more attention.

How could you when everything was a blur of colours and sounds and words didn’t make sense?

When you were diagnosed with psychosis depression, in conjuncture of Synaesthesia and sensory processing disorder, it was like a sledgehammer to your already fragile sense of self. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of emotions and stimuli, with no one to throw you a lifeline.

Your father's dismissal of your struggles only served to fuel the fire of your isolation. You had always felt like an outsider in your own family, and now you had scientific evidence to prove it.

What good was evidence when the people who were supposed to support you didn’t believe in it?

A support system that couldn’t be bothered to support you. So, you learn to pickpocket from wealthy strangers in order to get the money you need for school supplies and food to eat during the school day. Lest your parents get a phone call from the school’s administrator to the child protective services.

The last thing you needed was to be taken from your home and placed somewhere else.

Keeping a sharp knife in your hoodie’s pocket, a silent reminder of what you were capable of unleashing unto others if you were given no other choice but to defend yourself.

“Cos I'm th' one gettin' in'a more fights than thee.” You reminded him with an eyebrow raised at him.

He chuckled before his expression grew serious. “Remember, it’s not for fights. It’s for when things get really bad. You're smarter than me, you’re smarter than all of us. Use it wisely.”

“Ta.” you muttered sheepishly in a bashful thanks.

It’s a long memory from years ago. Now, he is a married man with three daughters of his own, still living back in Yorkshire. After your father decided it was for the best that your brother, Caiden, had taken over the family farm. Leaving you to fend for yourself in the city with an alcoholic of a father who couldn’t even bother to remember your birthday.

You didn’t want to think what kind of desperation your mother would have needed to go through to leave you behind and cheat on your father repeatedly. Though, you know for a fact she didn’t care much about you or your older siblings, either. At least it was what your father drilled into you since you were sent off into the military at sixteen years old.

This is the least of your worries now.

The military charity dinner held by those in a level of wealth you were given the privilege to gawk at. Gaze upon in a hopeless wonder of knowing you were deemed less than in the grand scheme of the capitalist agenda.

“I don't know whether to be insulted at the gesture or wonder why they couldn't get someone else to attend in my place.” You told her as you stared at the window past her into the light grey cloudy sky.

“I could, no, I would be back there on the coastal shores in a heartbeat if they said they found someone else.” You continued to stare past her.

“I could be fishing for hours out there, and I wouldn’t have a care in the world.” You mentioned your diet of fresh fish, crab and the odd catfish if you were lucky enough to catch one.

Dr Stone nodded, scribbling notes on her clipboard, her pen moving swiftly, gliding across the page like an ice skater. As she processed your words.

“It’s important to find healthy ways to cope with your past traumas and the stress of your current job. Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, a hobby perhaps, that could help you find some peace?”

“I do MMA, Kickboxing, Axe-throwing, Javelin. I’m always studying anything to do with Electrical engineering. Even though I have doctorate now.”

“I haven’t found a reason to do much else other than fish as soon as I’m on leave. I leave out crab nets to catch crabs overnight. Primrose Valley is peaceful enough for someone who doesn't need much of anything.”

The doctor nodded, her gaze never leaving yours. “But what about something more…social? Something that doesn’t involve you being alone with your thoughts?”

“I don’t venture out much. I visit London for a two week vacation every three months. I come out more often if I need to get more clothes, shoes and tech for my workstation in my office.” You answered.

“My older brother said this military function was likely an excuse to parade around a poster child of a poor sod, a poverty-stricken soul who crawled her way to Colonel without wealth to back her up.” You mentioned.

Dr. Stone put her clipboard down and leaned slightly forward, her eyes searching yours. “And how does that make you feel?”

“One. It feels too convenient for him to say it. Two. I don’t know what to feel about it. Suspicious at the timing. But grateful for the opportunity at the same time.” You answered.

“I’m sorry for being so blunt, but I need to know where you’re coming from to help you better. How do you feel when you’re around others at these events?” She asked gently.

“I would have been offended if you weren’t blunt. It feels convenient they chose this time of year to do it. They could have chosen any other time of the year. But for some reason now felt like the ‘right time’. I feel like a zoo animal on display for them to gawk at and whisper about. Like they’re all expecting me to break down and show them the horrors of war. Like that’s what they want to see. That’s what makes them feel alive. That’s what makes them feel like they’re doing something noble by pitying me. Though, what is the use of pity now?”

You sigh heavily, feeling the weight of your words. “I feel like a fraud. Like I’m wearing a mask. A mask of success, of bravery, of strength. But underneath, I’m just a scared little girl who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing in a room full of lions dressed as sheep.”

Dr. Stone nods thoughtfully. “It’s normal to feel out of place in such situations. The military has its own culture, and transitioning to civilian life can be challenging, especially when you’re thrust into the spotlight like this. But remember, you earned your rank through hard work and sacrifice. You’re not just a story for them to tell. You’re a person with feelings and experiences that have shaped you into who you are today. It’s okay to set boundaries and to choose how much you wish to share with them. They may not understand, but that’s their problem, not yours.”

“Progress without work is not real progress.” you responded remembering the first session with her.

“How about trying to find someone to talk to at the dinner tonight? Maybe someone who you can connect with on a deeper level, someone who won’t see you as a charity case or a trophy, but as a human being with a story to tell.” Dr. Stone suggested, her voice a gentle nudge towards the social horizon you had long avoided.

“Only one way to find out right?” you sighed thinking of it.

The military charity dinner was held in a grand ballroom, the kind you only saw in movies. Chandeliers sparkled like diamonds hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden light on the marble floor.

The walls were lined with portraits of important figures, their stern faces watching over the event like guardians of the past. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the murmur of polite conversations.

You felt more like you were going through an outer body experience than actually attending the dinner. The room was filled with the who's who of society.

All dressed in their finest attire. The clinking of silverware and the soft laughter echoed around you.

A stark contrast to the chaos you were used to in the battlefield. You wore a sleek black dress that hugged your toned body. The fabric whispering against your skin as you moved.

It was a stark reminder of the armor you once wore. The one that actually kept you safe.

Looking for a seat painted. Coated. Dyed. Twisted inside the depths of both darkness and shadow.

The dinner was a masquerade ball of sorts, the kind where everyone wore their masks of charity and compassion while their true faces remained hidden behind a veil of wealth and privilege.

You walked through the crowd, the heels of your black stilettos clicking against the marble like the ticking of a time bomb, drawing glances that ranged from curious to pitying.

You felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, armed with your sharp wit and the stories no one genuinely wanted to hear.

You were sipping on a potent amber liquid in the corner out of the view of those who would rather pity you from afar than muster the courage to speak to you.

The gentle tapping upon your shoulder you were determined to ignore. Yet as you pretended to ignore them as if they were not quite there. A deep voice, the accent of the queen’s English breaking through his lips as if they parted in gentle parting waves rather than words.

“Excuse me, colonel, if I may, your presence here is quite the talking point.”

“I suppose it would be. Most oddities of the norm are spoken of. Are they not? Those who do not fit within usually stand out as clear as daylight or a black sheep born from white.” You responded fixing the leather gloves enclosing your hands from view.

He chuckled, a rich, warm sound that seemed to fill the empty spaces in the room. “I suppose that’s true. But you, Colonel, you’re more like a diamond in the rough, aren’t you? Shimmering brilliantly amidst the coal of our mundane existence.”

“I find the apt description of a black sheep more befitting. A black sheep need not take dye to turn into a different colour, it is simply born that way. Wool worth more because it doesn't need to change into a different shade. It is just as it is meant to be but is often discarded for not fitting in with the flock.” You replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

“I’m Kyle Garrick. But you can call me Gaz. I’ve heard quite the tales of your valour, Colonel.” He extended a hand, his grip firm but not overpowering, a sign of respect.

“Of that I have no doubt.” You took his hand and shook it firmly, looking into his eyes without blinking, as if to prove that you were not intimidated by his status. “Tales are often exaggerated to suit the teller’s needs. And I suspect that in this room, the truth is as elusive as a mirage in the desert of deception.”

Gaz chuckled again, his smile genuine. “Fair point. But I’ve seen enough of the world to know that true grit isn’t something that can be faked. So, tell me, Colonel, what brings a diamond in the rough to an event like this?”

“Other than being invited to it?” You questioned the young man.

He nodded in understanding, his eyes never leaving yours. “Indeed. Besides that, I mean. Is there something you’re hoping to get out of tonight?”

“I suppose I don't know. London is nosier than Primrose Valley. Lacks the sea air I have become accustomed to.” you answered.

Gaz leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes scanning the room as if he were assessing the situation. “I can understand that. The city can be...overwhelming at times. But there’s also something to be said for the energy here. The constant movement, the stories hiding in every corner. It’s like a battlefield in a different way, isn’t it? Just with less danger and more champagne.”

“You are just as likely to drown in it as to swim inside it.” you quipped. “Also, I don't know what battlefield you've been on. Most of mine have been as hectic as the daylight savings.”

Gaz’s eyes searched yours, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. “You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?”

“One would certainly hope so. I started at sixteen at the behest of my father. My mother left one night, and she hadn't come home back since.” you answered.

Gaz’s eyes widened slightly, and his smile faltered. “That’s...young. Too young, really. But I suppose necessity is the mother of all invention, isn’t it?”

“Necessity breeds innovation. Innovation breathes in the soul of the desperate.” You said, taking a sip of your drink, your eyes never leaving his. The liquid burned down your throat like a trail of fire, a comforting pain, a familiar one. “Mr. Garrick, why do you find yourself here this evening, you do not strike me as a charitable soul.”

He chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the ballroom. “You’re right, Colonel. I’m not exactly the charity type.

But, my father’s a high-ranking general, and he believes in supporting our troops.

Plus, it’s a good way to network, keep an eye on the new recruits, and maybe, just maybe, find a bit of the excitement I’ve missed since leaving active duty.

And you? What’s your reason for being here?”

“Do I require one?” you answered.

“No, I suppose not. But it’s always interesting to know what brings people together in a place like this. Besides, I find that the most intriguing people often have the most intriguing stories to tell. And I’d wager yours is quite the tale.” Gaz said, his eyes still holding yours, a challenge in his gaze.

“Not quite for those who cannot stomach the taste copper.” you responded.

“I see. Then tell me, what do you do in your free time?” Gaz asked, his gaze never leaving yours.

“MMA, Kickboxing, Axe-throwing, Javelin. I’m always studying anything to do with Electrical engineering. I haven’t found a reason to do much else other than fish as soon as I’m on leave. I leave out crab nets to catch crabs overnight. Primrose Valley is peaceful enough for someone who doesn't need much of anything.” you answered looking at the ornate fork on the table.

Gaz’s eyes lit up at the mention of MMA and kickboxing. “Now that’s a side of you I wasn’t expecting. Most women in the military I know prefer the more…traditional forms of relaxation. How did you get into that?”

“I'm a close combat specialist as well as a sniper. Best of both. A combination of two deadly worlds. I enjoy the rush and the discipline it brings. It keeps my mind sharp and my body in check. Plus, it’s a good way to let off steam. As for electrical engineering, it’s always been a passion of mine. Something about the chaos of circuits and wires makes sense to me when nothing else does. It’s like a puzzle, but instead of a picture, you get to build something that actually works.” You replied, your eyes never leaving the fork.

“Fascinating. You're a woman of many talents, Colonel.” Gaz said, his voice filled with genuine interest.

“You have to be. To survive and thrive in this type of world you need it. You require it. You must find yourself utterly complete inside and out.” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Ah, I see. So, tell me, what’s the most thrilling part of your job?” Gaz asked, his gaze still on you, as if he was trying to piece together the puzzle of your life.

“The technology. It adapts faster than we can ever learn to use it. Delightful to see the older generations scramble around as they shriek, 'How do I use this?' in different words. But the question always remain the same.” you snorted.

“But the most thrilling part would be when you can outsmart it. When you can use it in ways it wasn’t intended to be used. That’s when you know you’re truly ahead of the game. Like using a smartphone as an explosive device or a simple USB stick to bring down a network. The simplicity is the best part. It’s like watching a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat, except the rabbit is a bomb and the hat is your enemy’s security system.”

Gaz’s eyes widened, a spark of intrigue lighting up his expression. “Remarkable. It’s not often you find someone who can appreciate the beauty in chaos quite like that.”

“Chaos is everywhere. From the sea, to the sky and the creatures just below the ground. To the very sciences. We know less of our ocean than we do about our moon.”

“Indeed. But chaos is predictable if you know the patterns. And when it comes to technology, I’ve found that the patterns are quite…beautiful, in their own destructive way. Like a tornado, you see it coming, you know the path of destruction, but there’s a certain…elegance to it, isn’t there?” Gaz replied, his voice low and intense.

“Not quite. It is safe to assume we know because of what we already do know.” you pointed out. “A fool assumes he has all the answers. A fool denies truths revealed later to writhe in his 'limitless' ignorance. A smart man knows he does not know everything. A smarter one knows the right questions to ask to find the answers he does not know yet. And the smartest knows when not to ask at all, for fear of what he might find out.”

Gaz nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still locked with yours. “A philosopher and a warrior, Colonel. Quite the combination. I can see why they picked you as the face of this event. You have a way with words that could charm the birds from the trees.”

“My therapist recommended most of the books I have read on Existentialism Absurdist philosophy. It made life seem to look like it had more sense than it truly does. Like a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing, or a goldfish than happens to be koi fish. It's all in how you look at it.” you said with a shrug.

As the dinner came to a close, you were left with your thoughts and memories stirred up. As you walked over to your car, the cool London night air slapped you with reality. You were still the Grim Reaper, haunted by the ghosts of your past. You looked at you car, a 1966 black dodge charger, a symbol of your old life.

As you placed your vinyl leather handbag, until you heard your name, your heart skipped a beat. You turned around to see a man in a sharp navy blue tuxedo with a crimson tie walking towards you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Colonel, I hope I’m not interrupting your quiet moment.”

“If you call heading back to a hotel room as a 'quiet moment' then I would hate to see what you define as a party.” you replied dryly.

The man chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Fair enough. But I must admit, I found your company quite refreshing tonight. A breath of fresh, if not salty, sea air.” He extended his hand once again. “John Price, at your service. And before you ask, no, I'm not related to the hotel chain.”

“I was thinking of of a tinned fish brand than a hotel chain.” You said as you took his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Price.”

Price's grip was firm, but not overpowering. His smile remained, but his eyes searched yours, as if looking for something hidden beneath the surface. “Please, call me John. And the pleasure is all mine, Colonel. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Gaz. Quite insightful, really. Rare to find someone who understands the complexities of our line of work.”

“I would hope so getting shot at at the ripe age of 17 is not something I would have wanted my own children to go through.”

“Indeed, it’s a path that shapes us, whether we wish it or not. Tell me, Colonel, are you ever haunted by the ghosts of your past?” John Price asked, his voice carrying a weight that suggested he was all too familiar with such hauntings.

“John. No one can kill someone and come back the same as they were. It’s like trying to walk through a forest fire unscathed. The heat changes you, the smoke fills your lungs and alters your breathing forever. You’re never quite the same.” You replied, your voice a mix of honesty and resignation.

John’s smile remained, but his eyes grew serious. “Wise words, Colonel. And I suspect you speak from experience. I’ve seen enough of those fires to know that you can’t escape them untouched. But sometimes, those ghosts can be…useful. They can drive us to do things we never thought possible, push us to be better than we ever imagined we could be. And sometimes, just sometimes, they give us the strength to keep walking when we feel like we can’t go on anymore. Have you ever felt that way?”

“On and off. Most days yes. On others I want to be on my boat and fish for two hours.” you answered.

John's eyes searched yours, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. “Fishing, huh? I’ve always found there’s something peaceful about being out on the water, just you and the fish. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos we deal with in our line of work, isn’t it?”

“Nothing like catching a fish, cutting it up and eating for dinner later.” you smirked.

John chuckled, the sound echoing in the emptying ballroom. “Indeed. But tell me, do you ever find that the quiet of the water gets too…quiet? That you miss the rush?”

“Covert ops. Those ones are the ones I liked most of all. Its the combination of the James Bond spy feeling and the reality of it all. You get to save the world and look good doing it, minus the fancy cars and the women of course. Just me and my trusty boat, a fishing pole, and a whole lot of patience.” you said, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips.

John’s eyes lit up, a spark of shared experience in his gaze. “Ah, the quiet before the storm. The thrill of the hunt, the anticipation of the catch.

It’s quite a rush, isn’t it? The adrenaline pumping through your veins as you wait for the right moment to strike, knowing that one wrong move could mean the end of the mission. And yet, when you succeed, it’s like nothing else in the world.”

You ended up giving him your number to him. You don't know why you did. You felt compelled to do it. It was a choice you have decided to do in the heat of the moment.

Thinking nothing of it. As you drove to the hotel you booked to stay in for the duration of your stay in London. It wasn’t as nearly draped in luxury expenditures as one of the wealthy would have.

However, it wasn’t the cheapest either. It was the perfect kind of ‘safe’ middle ground you could find. It was enough to satisfy your needs without making you feel guilty for spending your hard-earned savings.

You decided to text your friend to check on your home along the coast. You weren't sure what to feel about this London trip. It was a new thing for you. A time for just yourself. And your mind. Everything else is extra.

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