#cried over vacuum cleaners

[keendaanmaa]

😅

[pseudowho]

"Why the fuck...does this vacuum cleaner smell like cheese?"

Kento was yet to arrive home, and you saw this as only a blessing for him. Staring down the barrel of the hoover, the house finally hushed from the sounds of rowdy children, you wore your finest holey tank top, and pyjama shorts which covered asscheek, pussy and belly (but only ever two at a time, at any given time).

Your antiperspirant didn't have the same stamina as you. You swore as you trod barefoot on Lego, staggering and cussing like a mad old witch.

Bra-less, and without the time to scout the laundry pile for underwear, you hoovered crumbs and war-detritus like a skrunkly raccoon; hungry, cross, and in need of a shower. Your mind was lost, running between the alleyways of your chore-list, when the door clicked open, and closed.

You vacuumed, and vacuumed, not even looking up as you heard the rhythmic tack, tack, tack of his brown Oxfords approaching.

"There she is."

As if you were the Venus de Milo.

You grunted, lifting the rug and picking up an abandoned, squashed peach with an ugh! and cursed your sleeping offspring. You stood up with a huff, blowing sweaty hairs off your face, your breasts swinging independently of you.

"How's my darling wife?"

Pristine as ever, crisp and ironed and with the faintest tang of sweat and cologne, you wondered if Kento would ever arrive home looking like he'd been intimately acquainted with a trash can. The day had not yet come. Whiskey-deep eyes drank you in, parched.

Your heart ached with how handsome he looked, and how pathetically mismatched you were against him.

"Kento. You're home."

"Mmmm."

Either in confirmation, or having seen something delicious; you weren't sure. You suspected the latter. You scoffed as his hands reached out to slip round your raggedy waist, and you scoffed, and he shushed you, and you berated him, and he mumbled sweet nothings into your neck until you were finally folded into him, his missing ingredient.

And how he looked at you, as if you'd hung the stars and orchestrated the seasons.

You breathed him in, lax against the brick-wall solidity of him. You could have cried.

You still had sloppy peach remnants in your hand as Kento kissed you, soft and mellow and longing. You huffed against his lips.

"Kento, I am a fucking mess--"

"You're lovely--"

"--I absolutely am not--"

"--ravishing--"

"--you're ridiculous--"

"--gorgeous--"

"You're an idiot."

"I've missed you."

"God, I've missed you too. So much. You don't even know."

"I'm sure I do."

You sighed, nuzzling your face into the hard planes of Kento's collarbones, growling away a day of frustration. His chuckles rumbled up, tickling your nose. You rested your cheek against Kento's chest, your weariness bone-deep, having had no agency over your body or your time since dawn.

You surveyed the carnage together in silence; toys strewn as if the bodies of soldiers, abandoned laundry with stains of suspect aetiology, congealed meals, lovingly prepared and never eaten. You felt the weight of the day threaten to overwhelm you, feeling the panic and anxiety climbing, tidal waves on your waterline--

"Sit down. I'll make you a cup of tea."

The floodgates almost opened. "I can't do that-- you've had a long day-- so much to do--"

"And, I'll do it."

"No you won't, I--"

"Sit down. And I'll make you a cup of tea."

A single, slow kiss to your sweaty forehead. You sniffled, no strength left for another battle. You offered paltry smiling complaints as Kento nuzzled your hair, gripping you closer, growling into your neck as you squeaked and laughed.

You felt the familiar heavy press and twitch of his cock against you, and he groaned as you squirmed in his grasp, giggling. You caught his eye, as he twinkled down at you, pressing one slow kiss to your lips, possessive and full of promise.

"...I'm not apologising for anything. You look incredible."

"Ridiculous man, Nanami Kento."

[queenshelby]

The Client (Rewritten)

Part One: Starting Out

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (37) & Reader (35)

Note: In this fic Cillian is a lawyer, helping the reader after she becomes a victim of domestic abuse.

It was one of those days again where James was seething with anger. Exhausted from overwork, his mounting stress erupted in a torrent of fury directed at you.

"Didn't I fucking tell you to clean up this mess an hour ago?” he bellowed the moment he barged in at 6 o’clock, his eyes ablaze with disapproval. You knew that yet again, your efforts fell short of his demanding standards.

“James, I am sorry. I lost track of time. I was in the garden…” you faltered, justifying yourself, avoiding his piercing gaze as you spoke.

“When I talk to you, you look at me! Understood?” James hissed as he yanked your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his imposing glare.

"I-I'm sorry, i-it won't happen again, I promise," you whimpered in fear, the sting of his slap still fresh on your face as you crumpled to the floor.

Without warning, he had struck you once more, the scalding tears tracing a path down your cheeks.

"Look at the things you make me do Y/N! I don't want be the bad guy here," James muttered, hoisting you to your feet as you wiped away the evidence of your pain.

“I am…” you attempted to speak, but he cut you off abruptly.

"I am sorry. I overreacted,” remorse etched on his face, though you didn't want his apology, refusing to meet his gaze as he enveloped you in a suffocating embrace.

“Okay,” you choked on a sob, swallowing hard. Words failed you, a suffocating fear gripping your heart.

Nine weeks pregnant with your unborn child, the last thing you wanted was to draw his wrath further. It wasn’t the first time his fists struck you, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. Amidst his tirades and vicious cycles of abuse, his apologies felt hollow, the promise of change a mere illusion.

"Come on now, Y/N. Some of the senior associates are coming over tomorrow, and I need this place spotless! You don’t want to embarrass me, do you?” James remarked as he released you, prompting you to nod meekly and reach for the vacuum cleaner.

Without wasting a single moment, you attacked the housework, vacuuming and scrubbing with a frenzied determination. Every inch of the furniture received your fierce dusting, and not even the windows escaped your meticulous cleaning. By around 9 o’clock, you had conquered the tasks, but the exhaustion had already settled in.

As you completed your chores, you ascended the stairs to the bathroom, yearning for a brief respite under the warm water. Wrapping a towel around your trembling frame, you hastened to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable, but your attire failed to appease your husband's dissatisfaction.

“For once, could you not make an effort for me? I am your husband, after all,” James seethed, his breath reeking of alcohol as he barged into the room, making his presence felt.

He must have faced a brutal day, likely losing a pivotal legal battle, a realization that spelled trouble for you.

“Please, James, not now,” you pleaded, your words trembling with fear as he advanced towards you menacingly.

"You are mine. You will obey. If I desire, you will submit. You are good for nothing else," James growled, his tone dripping with malice as he forcefully pushed you against the wall, his grip tightening.

"James, please, I'm pregnant. You know this," you cried out amidst tears, attempting to evade his suffocating presence.

"So what?" James spat venomously. "That doesn't exempt you from my needs. On your knees, now," he commanded, gripping your hair and throat mercilessly, his wrath escalating.

"Stop! Just stop!" you begged, your voice breaking as you struggled against his brutal advances, triggering his unchecked fury.

He suddenly kicked your stomach, first once and then twice and slapped you till your face was bleeding once again.  

He was full of rage, and you couldn't make it stop. You were just going to let him do this to you because you didn’t have any strength anymore to fight him. You started seeing dark everywhere and before you knew it you blacked out.

Hours later, you woke up at the local hospital, engulfed by searing pain and exhaustion. Despite the haunting memories of what had befallen you, you chose to keep silent about the truth.

“I fell down the stairs,” you feebly explained to the nurse, offering a feigned facade. Unfamiliar with your history, she dismissed it as a minor accident.

But beneath her seemingly indifferent exterior, a flicker of concern burned brightly. As she somberly delivered the news of your lost child, you found a peculiar solace in the revelation, casting shadows of doubt on your inner turmoil.

“You appear oddly composed despite your loss. Is there anything I can do for you? I can arrange for a psychologist or call your husband to be here with you,” the nurse endeavored to comfort you, sensing an unseen weight upon your shoulders.

“The pregnancy was not planned. I didn't really want another child, so I will be fine,” you mumbled uncertainly, concealing the painful truth that your husband had manipulated you into this plight.

As you pondered your bleak predicament, the specter of freedom beckoned. Yet, with nothing to your name, escape seemed as elusive as a wisp of smoke.

“But, actually…” you hesitated just as the nurse was about to depart.

“Can you please call my brother for me? I don't have my phone on me, and I don't have a wallet either,” you implored, hoping against hope that the nurse would grant you this one favor and that your brother would pick up your call after almost a decade of silence.

“Of course, use my phone,” the nurse offered kindly, extending the lifeline you sought. With Dermont's number etched into your memory, you dialed it, engulfed by a mix of trepidation and longing.

After about three rings , a rough, familiar voice answered, "Who is this?"

"It's me. Please don't hang up ," you blurted out hastily, anxious the nurse wouldn't witness the conversation unfold given how you had parted ways with Dermont many years ago.

A brief pause followed, and your breath hitched, amplifying the suspense.

"Y/N," he finally said, his tone laced with surprise and perhaps a sliver of compassion. The name he hadn't uttered in so long seemed to weigh upon him, dragging up dusty memories of a shared past.

"I'm at the hospital. Can you come? I need your help. I have nowhere else to turn," you murmured into the phone, your voice cracking with unshed tears.

The heaviness of those words hung in the air, enveloped by a thick silence. You could barely discern whether he was mulling over your request or simply wrestling with the fervent desire to hang up.

"Which hospital?" Dermont asked, his tone now a shade softer. It seemed there was always a piece of him, deep within his heart that wouldn't abandon you despite your troubled past.

"Mater Private. I'm on the fourth floor," you mumbled as you swallowed the lump in your throat, anticipating the decision that could change the trajectory of your life forever.

"All right. I'm on my way," Dermont reassured, trying to hide the unease lacing his voice.

The phone call terminated, leaving you on tenterhooks, the enormity of your actions mercilessly sinking in.

The nurse watched you with gentle eyes, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. A whirlpool of agonizing vulnerability consumed you, spreading barbed tendrils of panic but somehow you knew that, at least for now, you were safe. Dermont would be coming from you and you would not have to face James again. 

Hours later, at Cillian's House....

It was around midnight when Cillian’s phone rang, ripping him out of his sleep.

“Jesus, why is someone calling you so late?” Janette, Cillian's paralegal, yelped while laying next to him. She pulled the doona over her face to cover her ears, trying to block out the unexpected interruption. Cillian and her had been entangled in an on-and-off romance for a few months now. It wasn't anything serious, just innocent fun on restless occasions.

“It’s a friend. It’s probably urgent,” Cillian murmured to her before taking the call and, as Dermont's panicky voice flooded his ears, a sense of urgency gripped him.

Barely shaking off the dregs of sleep, he scrambled out of bed, his actions fueled by instinct.

"What's going on, Dermont?" Cillian asked hurriedly, his mind shifting gears as he mentally prepared to handle whatever crisis his friend was in. 

“I urgently need an AVO. It can't wait,” Dermont nervously admitted and Cillian could hear the strain in his voice. 

"What the fuck for?" he wanted to know, thinking that Dermont had gotten himself in trouble and what he heard next made him forget all about his restless night.

"It's for my sister, Y/N. I swear, she needs it urgently. She's at the hospital because her sick bastard of a husband did beat her up again," Dermont explained and the sudden mention of your name made Cillian bolt upright. 

"How bad are her injuries? Is she alright?"  Cillian queried urgently, concern etching lines onto his face. The strong defenses he had erected around his heart began to weaken, an unspoken history pulling him under. Despite having lost touch with you just over sixteen years ago, memories of you remained vivid.

Dermont sighed before replying, "The doctors and nurses managed to deal with the damage. She's alive but she her entire body is covered in bruises,"  Dermont's voice cracked, conveying his helplessness at the distance that had grown between them after all these years.

"Did she report him to the police?" Cillian asked through clenched teeth, his cool demeanor betraying an intense surge of anger.

"Not yet. She's scared, man. She is really scared," Dermont whispered, the weight of his words settling menacingly in the air. 

"Listen, there is nothing we can really do tonight. You need to take her to the shelter on York Street. She'll be safe there. They provide emergency accommodation in cases like this. Come to my office with her tomorrow morning, at 8 o’clock and we'll start the paperwork,” Cillian advised, his mind racing through scenarios to ensure everyone's safety.  "Oh, and Dermont, get her a prepaid phone. She shouldn't be using hers in case her husband is tracking her," Cillian added as an afterthought, knowing that dangerous men like James often went to great lengths to control and harm their victims.

"Thanks, man," Dermont responded appreciatively, the reality that his friend was offering a much-needed olive branch sinking in.

"Of course. I will see you both tomorrow," Cillian agreed as he terminated the call with a sense of purpose coursing through his veins. As he glanced at Janette, who had since emerged from beneath the covers, a spark of clarity illuminated his eyes.

"What happened?" she wanted to know as Cillian climbed back into bed beside her.

"My friend's sister needs an AVO. Her husband has been beating her for a while I think and she just ended up in hospital tonight," Cillian pensively uttered the words as he slipped back into bed, disrupting the tranquility of the room that suddenly seemed tainted by the overwhelming gravity of the situation.

Janette blinked, slowly awakening to this revelation and the evident distress on Cillian's face. 

"I don't get it," she said softly. "Why are you even getting involved in this? You no longer do this kind of work and should refer her to Legal Aid rather than taking this case pro-bono which I know is what you are going to do." 

Cillian let out a sigh before replying, "Because he is my best friend, and I knew her from when we were young. We basically grew up in the same neighborhood."  he clarified, while absentmindedly toying with a loose thread on the blanket.

"Okay sure," she replied, immediately lapsing into a trance-like silence. With furrowed eyebrows and a partly sealed mouth, Janette's disapproval lingered uncomfortably in the room. "But honestly, do you even think that she will accept your help? If her husband has been doing this to her for a while, then she might even go back to him after a you bring a lawsuit," Janette interjected, the skepticism evident in her voice. "She's obviously got mental issues. Women who allow men to do this kind of stuff for a prolonged period of time usually have other things going on with them Cillian and you may not be able to save her," Janette persisted, exposing her doubts about the situation at hand.

Cillian felt a pang of defensiveness on behalf of you which was something he hadn't seen in over a decade and a half. "She isn't that type of woman, trust me. I knew her quite well," he stated emphatically, as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair before sighing deeply. "Let's just get back to sleep, alright?" he then murmured, draping an arm around Janette's waist. But his mind remained restless, preoccupied with thoughts of your predicament and, to make matters even worse, when had fallen back asleep, Cillian's thoughts drifted back to their shared past, resurrecting memories of a time when life seemed infinitely simpler.

One evening in particular entered his mind. It was a cold autumn night just over sixteen years ago. You had just turned 18 the month before and Cillian was visiting Cork during his Semester break.  It was Dermont's 20th Birthday and Cillian had traveled all the way from Dublin to join the celebration. 

Spotting you in the corner of the room that evening, Cillian's pulse quickened as usual. He had been feeling this irresistible pull towards you for years, but never had the courage to utter a word about it. 

"Hey," he finally said, approaching you timidly, holding a little parcel in his hand. 

"Oh hey. I didn't even know that you were coming," you responded excitedly as you spotted him.

Your smile was as dazzling as ever, bathing his heart in warmth.

"Well, I wouldn't miss your brother's birthday for the world," Cillian replied with a wink, handing over the present wrapped in shiny blue paper.  "And this is for you I suppose. I am sorry it is a bit late. So, happy belated18th birthday," he told you, his heart pounding in his chest like a wild drum.

"You shouldn't have gotten me anything," you smiled as you unwrapped the gift with your slender, small fingers revealing a bracelet featuring your favorite animal.

"Oh wow, Cillian. Thank you," you exclaimed, that warm smile lighting up your face once more, sending a flutter through Cillian's heart.

"I'm glad you like it," Cillian replied, his own mouth curving into a grin as he marveled at your unbridled delight. "I first thought getting you jewelry was weird, but I don't know, when I saw it, it seemed really fitting somehow,"  he confided, a certain vulnerability in his voice which you found both surprising and endearing.

Your fingers grazed the intricately designed silver badger, its keen little eyes gazing back at you, seeming almost fiercely protective. 

"It's perfect," you told him before leaning in to kiss his cheek.  The gesture was innocent, yet it ignited a lingering warmth between you two - a feeling that left Cillian both thrilled and lovesick.

The night wore on, and the party dwindled to a close, but that brief encounter remained etched in Cillian's memory. He sought you out a few times that evening and, eventually, he found you outside, enveloped by the chill of the night. The atmosphere was saturated with a heavy silence, the hushed rustling of leaves playing an eerie melody in the darkness. The soft glow emanating from the house cast shadows upon the garden as he hesitantly approached.

"Avoiding the drunken crowds?" Cillian asked as he sat down next to you on the big swinging bench which you always assumed to be from the seventies. In his hand, he held a pint of Guinness and you reached for it to take a sip.

Your fingers made contact with his, setting off a current that surprised both of you. "I almost forgot that you are old enough to drink now ," Cillian mentioned, trying to bring the electricity in the air back down to normal levels.

"It's not my first sip of beer, but don't tell alright?" you chuckled , before cautiously taking a mouthful of the bitter drink.

Cillian's lips spread into a warm smile, enjoying your carefree laughter. It was a sound he wished to hear more often, although he realized he knew very little about what made you truly happy. "Scout's honor," Cillian nodded, the corner of his lips twitching in a soft smile.

The frosty night descended around you, weaving in the shared quietness and the stirring breeze.

As you handed the beer glass back to Cillian, you brushed your fingertips gently against his, the little shock still radiating like a cozy secret between the two of you. Cillian studied your face, reading the emotions swimming at the surface of your eyes. Something so genuine and comely: it was invigorating, and he couldn't seem to glance away.

"I know I've never said this, but honestly, I always quite liked you, you know ," Cillian quietly admitted, baring his soul to you. Opening up to his best friend's younger sister—the girl he pined for relentlessly throughout adolescence—felt both breathtaking and slightly terrifying.

"Really?" you queried, attempting to keep your wavering voice steady. "Why didn't you say something?" you asked, the words barely audible, as a nervous flutter rose within you. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, mirroring the tumultuous storm brewing within your heart.

Cillian let out a soft chuckle before answering, "I'm not sure, really. You were young, and I was neither mature nor brave enough to express my feelings. I don't know,"  Cillian said with a shake in his voice, bashfully lowering his gaze. The vulnerability emanating from his statement filled you with a deep warmth, especially when he raised his eyes to meet yours again.

As you stared at each other, a wave of intensity rippled between you. "I kinda liked you too , y'know," you confessed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the depth of Cillian's ocean blue eyes.

"In fact, I always had the biggest crush on you but just when I was ready to tell you were dating Siobhan O'Connor and  I hated that. I thought you would never notice me," you admitted nervously.

Cillian looked taken aback, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"What? That can't be," Cillian countered. "Of course, I noticed you! You had always been the most beautiful girl at every party we went to," Cillian cheerfully insisted, causing a soft blush to grace your cheeks. 

"Do you still think so?" you asked, your voice barely audible as a shiver of anticipation coursed down your spine. You shuffled closer, your breath hitching when your thighs brushed tantalizingly against Cillian's. Suddenly, he felt like the only solid thing in a world of chaos.

Cillian's gaze dropped to your lips, and in that moment, he knew that you two had been dancing around each other for far too long. 

"Yes, I do. You are beautiful,"  Cillian whispered hoarsely, leaning in to cup your face gently. Your eyes fluttered shut, and his lips met yours in a searing kiss that turned the world upside down. Every fear, every moment of hesitation dissipated like smoke in the night, replaced by the thunderous wave of desire.

You hesitated at first, unsure of how to react to the sudden turn of events as you had never been touched with such tenderness, and it took a moment to adjust.

Yet, as Cillian deepened the kiss, you realized that something seemed to awaken within you—a heavy hunger you didn’t know existed.

With shaky hands, you reached for his face, tracing your fingers his jawline. Cillian reacted with a low groan, tightening his arms around your waist. You tugged at the bottom edge of his sweater, desperate to feel more of him pressed up against you.

"Do you want to go to my room?" you murmured, pulling away just enough to speak. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Cillian heard you loud and clear as if it was the most reasonable thing anyone has ever asked him. Albeit sensing your nervousness, he nodded and, shortly after that you led him to your room while everything around you seemed to blur.

You locked the door behind you, taking a brief moment to survey the room that was once yours but now seemed foreign.

The single bed was pushed against the wall, and a vanity littered with makeup and hair supplies occupied the other corner. But all of that faded into the background as you turned to face Cillian.

"We probably shouldn't tell Dermont about this," you murmured with a hesitant smile and Cillian chuckled softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face.

"Probably not," he replied, caressing your cheek gently.

As he leaned in to kiss you once more, you could feel the heat rising between you two. Your breath hitched as his hands roamed your body, and you clung to him greedily, running your fingers through his hair.

Cillian's fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping under it to touch the warm, smooth skin beneath.

You shivered nervously  , but didn't stop him. Instead, you pulled him closer, your fingers digging into his back.

Cillian kissed you harder, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands moved up to cup your breasts, and you arched your back, moaning into his mouth.

You could feel his hardness pressing into your hip, and you reached down to touch him over his jeans.

Cillian hissed, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. "Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You bit your lip, feeling reckless and wild. "I never, you know , did it before," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to, with you."

"Are you sure? We don't have to,"  Cillian said, searching your face for any signs of hesitation or uncertainty. But you only saw concern and care in his eyes - a stark contrast to the hunger and desire that had consumed you both just moments earlier.

"I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to pull him down onto the bed with you for another kiss. Your bodies pressed together, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. Cillian's hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before settling on the button of your jeans.

With trembling fingers, he undid the button and slid the zipper down, revealing the lacy red thong that lay beneath.

You watched him, your breath hitching as his gaze dropped to your lower half. Cillian swallowed hard, his throat dry as he saw the dampness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice ragged. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your jeans and dragged them down your legs, leaving you laying there in just your thong and your snug fitting t-shirt.   The anticipation coiled tight in your belly while you watched him stand and remove his own clothes, letting them fall to the floor where his shoes already lay discarded.

His body was lean and covered in freckles. Your eyes were drawn to the firm muscles of his abs, your gaze tracing the lines and ridges formed by his body. Then they wandered lower, to the bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs. 

You quickly sat up and pulled off your t-shirt , tossing it aside with eagerness, revealing your bare breasts for the first time to his gaze. 

You sat there nervously  , anticipation and excitement coiling in your belly. Your nipples hardened under his gaze and you couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Cillian said, as he knelt on the bed and crawled towards you, trailing his fingers over your skin. You inhaled sharply and leaned back to allow him access. He gently caressed one breast and then the other, before leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. You gasped as his hot mouth closed around it, and your body trembled under his touch.

The sensation of his tongue swirling around your nipple sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pooling in your core.

You let out a low moan, arching your back as he teased you. Your hands roved over his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your fingertips. Cillian's hand traced a path from your breasts, down your stomach, until he reached the apex of your thighs.

He hooked his finger into the hem of your thong and slowly pulled it down your legs, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine as he stared at your naked body, taking in every inch of you.

His gaze was intense, filled with desire and longing.

His eyes met yours, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply.

His tongue plunged into your mouth, dancing with yours in a sensual rhythm that mirrored the movements of his fingers.

Cillian gently explored the folds of your pussy, discovering your slick wetness and groaning into the kiss.

He slipped a finger inside you, and you gasped at the sensation, your hips bucking upwards to meet his touch. He added a second finger, stretching you open and preparing you for what was to come.

Cillian broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and over your collarbone. He suckled at your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with his tongue before continuing his journey down your body.

He planted soft kisses along your stomach, inching lower and lower until he reached the apex of your thighs. You spread your legs wider, allowing him access to the most intimate part of your being, the scent of your arousal heavy in the air.

Cillian wasted no time in exploring you further, spreading your lips apart with his thumbs and diving his tongue into your wetness. You cried out, your fingers finding their way into his hair, holding him in place as you ground yourself against his face.

"Holy shit, I didn't expect that," you panted, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as his tongue flicked expertly against your clit.

Cillian groaned against your wetness, his hands spreading you wider open as he feasted upon you. The sensation of his tongue delving into your most intimate places was almost too much to bear, and you struggled to keep your sanity as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Don't stop," you pleaded, your fingers tightening in his hair as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

"Cillian, please, don't stop." Your voice was a breathy whisper, urging him to continue his assault on your senses.

Cillian eagerly obliged, redoubling his efforts and bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. His tongue fluttered against your clit, and his fingers plunged deeper inside you, curling up to stroke the sensitive spot within.

The sensation was indescribable, and you felt your orgasm building, spiraling higher and higher until it threatened to consume you entirely.

"Cillian!" you shouted his name as your release crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body shuddered, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Cillian didn't relent, his tongue continuing to circle and flick against your sensitive clit, drawing out your orgasm for what felt like an eternity. When you could finally take no more, you pushed his head away gently, panting and gasping for air. He looked up at you with satisfied eyes, crawling up your body to kiss you deeply, sharing the taste of your release with you.

It was the strangest but most satisfying experience , feeling his face slick with your desire, knowing that it was because he had pleasured you in the most earth-shattering way possible.

He brushed the hair away from your sweaty forehead, murmuring sweet words of love and adoration.

"You taste fucking delicious," Cillian whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his lips traced the shell of your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for another searing kiss.

As you were kissing, you reached into his briefs , wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. Cillian hissed, his hips bucking forward as you began to stroke him firmly.

"Goddamn, Y/N," Cillian growled, his blue eyes dark with desire as he watched your every move. "You're going to make me come like this."

"That's the idea," you purred, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-come that had gathered there.

"No, really," Cillian tried to sound stern, but even he could hear the barely concealed desperation in his voice. You chuckled and continued your assault, your hand moving faster and faster along his length. "I wanted this for so long. I need to feel you. All of you,"  Cillian moaned, as you released his manhood from the confines of the briefs. His cock was thick and pulsating with need, and you couldn’t help but marvel at its size and girth. Cillian leaned back, resting himself on his knees, giving you the perfect view. His muscles rippled in the dim light, and the sweat glistening on his skin only added to his allure.

He pushed his briefs all the way off , tossing them to the side and leaving him completely bare.

You couldn't take your eyes off him, mesmerized by the sight of him fully naked before you. He was a work of art, and you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the male form before you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Cillian asked, his voice low and husky. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Y/N."

But you knew what you wanted.

"I want to, Cillian. I want all of you," you whispered and, with that, Cillian was on top of you, his lips crushing down on yours in a passionate kiss.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, and you couldn't help but squirm underneath him, eager for him to enter you.

"Please, Cillian," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me."

Cillian didn't need any further encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your slick folds. He hesitated for a moment, savoring the feeling of your wetness against him.

Then, with a slow and deliberate thrust, he entered you, filling you up completely. You gasped as he bottomed out inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Shit," you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Don't move yet," you begged, still adjusting to the sensation of him inside you.

Cillian obeyed, resting his forehead against yours, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back. You could feel the pulse of his cock inside you, and it sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"How does it feel?" Cillian asked, his voice strained. You could see the strain in his eyes too, the effort it took for him to hold back.

"Strange. But in a good way," you replied quietly, your breath hitching as he shifted inside you, causing your walls to clench around him.

"Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?" Cillian whispered, concern etched on his face.

"No, no, I want more," you reassured him, your hands roaming down his back and gripping his firm buttocks.

Cillian took your cue and began to move, slowly at first, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. With each thrust, his cock hit a sensitive spot inside you, eliciting a gasp every time. The smell of sweat and sex filled the room, and your bodies slapped together, creating a primal symphony that echoed through the space.

"Oh god , don't stop," you panted, your legs tightening around Cillian's waist as he thrusted into you gently, but precisely.  Your bodies melded into one, slick with sweat and desire, every movement bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Cillian's thrusts became more insistent, and your moans grew louder as he hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl.

"I can feel how wet you are for me, Y/N," Cillian whispered, his voice husky with lust.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring the corners of your mouth as he continued to thrust into you.

You moaned against his lips, your legs wrapped around his waist as you took every inch of him. The friction of his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls was driving you crazy, and it didn't take long before you felt another orgasm building inside you.

Cillian must have felt the same because he started to build his own rhythm, driving himself harder and faster into your writhing body.

"I am so close. Oh god fuck," you panted, your fingers digging into Cillian's back as your body tensed up and you released a loud moan . The intensity of the orgasm shook you to your core, making you dizzy and disoriented. Your walls clenched around Cillian's cock, the sensation sending him over the edge.

With a loud groan, Cillian came inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you up with his warm seed. He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he caught his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as your bodies slowly came down from the intense high.

Cillian's breathing was heavy, his heart pounding against your chest. You could feel his sweat mingling with yours, creating a sticky mixture that coated your skin.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "That was intense," he gasped and you moaned loudly again as he slowly pulled out.

"Yes it was," you agreed, shivering as the cool air touched your wetness. You could feel Cillian's warmth seeping out of you, merging with the sticky fluid that dripped down to your thighs. The sensation was oddly comforting and erotic at the same time, causing you to lick your lips in anticipation.

Cillian leaned in to kiss you once more, but before you could reciprocate, there was a sudden knock on the door.

"Y/N, are you in there?" you heard your brother ask and you quickly covered Cillian's mouth with your hand before responding.  "Yes, Dermont, what do you want?" you said, trying to compose yourself. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you could still feel Cillian's warmth seeping out of you.

Cillian shot you a puzzled look, but you just shook your head slightly, indicating that he should stay quiet. He looked confused but thankfully didn't protest.

"I was looking for Cillian. Do you know where he went?" your brother asked and you were quick to respond.

"Nope , I haven't seen him," you lied, trying to hide the panic in your voice. Your heart was racing, and your body still hummed with pleasure from the intense lovemaking session you had just shared with Cillian. You could feel a blush creeping up your neck as you tried to remain calm.

"Alright," Dermont said, sounding disappointed. "Well, I'll catch up with him later then. If you see him, let him know that he left his  phone in the living room," Dermont said, his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

As soon as you heard the front door close, you let out a sigh of relief.

"That was close," you whispered to Cillian, who was still lying on top of you and  he chuckled, his breath hot against your ear.

"Too close," he agreed and then he kissed you once more before having to say his farewell for the evening. It was one and only time you had slept with each other before Cillian returned to Dublin for his studies and you went to Australia for your gap-year and whilst Cillian had promised to wait for you, life had other plans. 

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[hannahssimblr]

“Granny?” Ivy cries. “I hate granny.”

“You’re not supposed to hate your grandmother,” I point out as I unwind the vacuum cord. “Even if she is… the way that she is.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“Alright, well maybe don’t tell the truth in front of mom and dad.”

“Ugh! For how long?”

“I don’t know, a few hours. Five, maybe.”

“Five hours?” 

“Bring a book.” I find a socket behind a potted plant and fumble with the plug. “Or you can have my iPod. Actually, you can have and keep it.”

“Okay, but whenever we put on music at her house, she complains and says it’s the devil’s.”

“Not all music, just the Rolling Stones.” I point out. “Actually, Mick Jagger. She said he was the devil personified, remember?” I think she came up with that line in the sixties, thought it was poignant, and hasn't stopped saying it for the rest of her life. I don’t even listen to the Rolling Stones. She just assumes all my music must be theirs, because she hates it with the same vigour as she did Beggar’s Banquet. 

“‘Oh, what are you reading, Ivy? Something by some old cowboy?’” Ivy says in this plummy, pretty spot-on impression of Granny Hyland, who also likes to call everyone she doesn’t like a cowboy, for reasons I could never grasp. That includes me, of course, that time I shaved my head.

“‘I’d prefer that children didn’t speak at the dinner table, and that they ate all of their disgusting, soggy peas and carrots that I’ve put no salt on. And don't scrape your cutlery on my ugly plates!’” Ivy goes on. A direct quote, probably. 

I swear I can see Granny now, sitting there, all thin and powdery in her musty, Glasnevin Victorian that one of us is one day cursed to inherit. She’s always seemed so old, even though she’s still only in the first half of her sixties. How she would sit there at the table, gripping her knife and fork over Christmas dinner with those weird, rheumatic hands and jawing on about manners, she was like a turn of the century relic. 

My decision to throw a party tonight has condemned my sister to an evening of that, and for that, I’m guilty. 

Ivy throws herself onto the settee, her hair spilling over the floor. 

“Move your rat tails or I’ll suck them up in the hoover,” I mutter.

“Why are you hoovering? Irene does that for us.”

I sigh. “I guess I’m the cleaner today.”

“Why?”

“Because mom and dad said so.”

She frowns. “Why would they say that? If they want the house cleaned, they would just phone her to come and do it.”

“Yeah, I know, but they’re teaching me a lesson.”

“A lesson about what?”

“I don’t know, hoovering, I suppose. Move.” I scoop her hair out of the way, then hit the wrong button on the hoover. The cord retracts and tightens. 

Ivy sits up. “Who’s coming to your party? Anyone cool?”

“Define ‘cool’.”

She shrugs. She doesn’t really know what cool is in an Irish way, only in that glossy, American tween show way she knows from watching TV at her friend Ella’s house. I’ve wanted to tell her nicely that if those smiley kids wearing belts on top of their t-shirts from her beloved Camp Rock went to school here, they’d have the contents of the canteen bins chucked over them while inside the bathroom stalls, but they’re cool to her, so I just let her enjoy it before she realises. 

“It’s just gonna be some people from school, that’s all.”

“What about your friends from summer?”

I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask them. They probably won’t come.”

“Why?”

“Because they live far away, and it’s short notice.”

“You should ask. You’re going away tomorrow. Maybe they’d come because it’s the last chance to see you.”

“It won’t be the last chance. I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, at Christmas,” she says, as though Christmas is the year 2036. 

“Uh, yeah. Christmas. It’s not that long.”

“It is! It’s ages away! And also-”

“Ivy! I’m hoovering now. It’ll drown you out even if you keep talking.” With my foot, I whack the button, the correct one this time, and the machine roars to life. Ivy yaps on, but I just move my hand like a sock puppet. “I can’t hear you!”

She sticks out her tongue, and I stick out mine, but when she’s turned away and become interested in a bird out hopping around on the patio furniture, I pull my phone from my pocket and tap out a hasty message. 

Having a goodbye thing at my house. Will you come? 

It’s several minutes before Evie replies, and by then, I already assume that she won’t, in that kind of sad, desperate way, familiar to me only from my pubescent MSN days. By the time my phone vibrates, I jump. 

Okay, what time? 

I type back:

Seven. Look, I know you’re in Offaly, obviously, so you’re welcome to stay if you need to. There’s a few people crashing here. 

She won’t come. She definitely won’t come. Especially not if she has to sleep in my house. Who am I kidding? There’s all that stuff about her strict mother, and being around boys, and-

Ping.

Yeah, sounds cool. I’ll be there. 

Oh. 

Cool. See you later.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[probablyasocialecologist]

Robert Oppenheimer and the Manhattan Project knew from the start that this place was not all that isolated and was far from uninhabited. There were, in fact, dozens of families within 20 miles, largely poor families of ranchers and farmers, many Hispanic and Indigenous, who unwittingly went about their daily lives in the first fallout of the atomic age. Now, those who were infants and children downwind of the detonation of the “Gadget”—a code name for the plutonium bomb used in the Trinity test—are nearing the end of a decades-long battle to be recognized and compensated for generations of illness they trace to exposure from radioactive fallout.

[...]

The reactions of Manhattan Project observers at the Trinity site are well documented. “Words haven’t been invented to describe it,” physicist Val Fitch said of the enormous fireball. General Thomas Farrell said the awesome roar “warned of doomsday and made us feel that we puny things were blasphemous.” “A few people laughed, a few people cried,” Oppenheimer recalled years later. “I remembered a line from the Hindu scripture . . . Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” Physicist Kenneth Bainbridge said, “Now we are all sons of bitches.” Less documented are the reactions of the many New Mexicans who lived near Trinity. They had no warning, no context for the star-level explosion that shook their homes and startled them awake that morning. Worse, in the weeks after the test, they were never advised that their land, crops, livestock, and water may have been irradiated. A 2010 report to the CDC used archives at Los Alamos National Laboratory to re-examine the extent to which New Mexicans were unknowingly exposed to radioactive contamination from Trinity. Its findings revealed a shambolic and sometimes cynical effort to track the Gadget’s fallout that windy morning using “crude” and “ineffective” measures. Spotlights were deployed to try to follow the 230 tons of sand and ash falling from the mushroom cloud as it dispersed over southern New Mexico. Film badges designed to detect and measure radiation had been sent to nearby post offices before the test, but because of the Manhattan Project’s secret nature, there was little explanation on how the badges were meant to be used or why, and so they were deployed incorrectly or not at all. Some soldiers assigned to chase and monitor the radioactive cloud couldn’t relay their findings to headquarters in Albuquerque because they were not equipped with long-distance radios; other monitors attempted to gather fallout samples with domestic Filter Queen brand vacuum cleaners. (These samples were later lost or destroyed.) At least one monitor left the area after his superior declared tracking fallout a “waste of time,” while another soldier misplaced his respirator and took the official but scientifically misguided precaution of breathing through a slice of bread.

[dark-elf-writes]

Blaming @musicfeedsmysoul12 and the “humans are space orcs” post for this taking over my brain with a vengeance but I would kill for a 500 episode series of Sarek and Amanda’s relationship from the beginning because seeing a Vulcan coming to terms with all the illogical that is humanity would be so fucking funny.

This man would make it through her first period and look like he just escaped an active war zone. She has pack bonded with their vacuum cleaner that she put plastic eyes on and cried when it broke. She got wine drunk and drew eyebrows on their Shelat with an eyebrow pencil and is scream laughing on the floor. She told him to “shut up his eyebrows” during an argument. Despite the fact that he is three times as strong as the average human male and would have gladly helped her she decided to rearrange their living room while he was at work. When they’re on earth there is one (1) pigeon she has beef with that made its nest near the Vulcan embassy she can pick it out without fail every time. She has asked him which of two identical shades of pink lipstick looks better and got mad when he told her they were the same. A human man twice her size made a rude comment about Sarek when they were out in public and she lectured that man until he cried.

And all of this culminates as him explaining humans to little Spock who is solemnly nodding along with his every word like it’s gospel.

[junocandraw]

JEFF THE KILLER REWRITE 4/4

If you’ve made it this far, I owe you my firstborn. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Anyways, back to edgelord 9000.

Incase you couldn’t tell, this isn’t the beginning. The first part is linked at the top of my page!

The Inferno

It had been a week. An entire week since their aunt from Michigan had come to take Liu away. She pulled up to the Wood’s house in her beat up red minivan, and without even allowing him a hug, took Liu away to a town even smaller than Elmerville. Jeff cried out in the driveway for an hour, before his father pulled him inside.

That week was so painful for Jeff. He missed Liu’s random visits to his room. His drawings, his poetry, his stupid striped scarf. He began to eat even less, and pace even more. He would have moments of violence where he would throw things in his room, punch the walls, or pull out his hair, one strand at a time. He looked like a shell of what he used to be. His friends from Milwaukee, including Stanley, had tried to get into contact with him, but he wouldn’t answer his texts.

Jeff lost track of time. He was beginning to have the opposite problems with his sleep schedule. When he wasn’t pulling his hair out of his head, he was sleeping. He was grateful for this at the beginning, but soon hypersomnia became a problem. He would shut his blackout curtains, and sleep for 48 hours. Once in the week, he went three whole days without eating anything, and drinking out of a left over plastic water bottle in his room. He was so pale and skinny, he looked almost inhuman. All he knew was that everything was getting worse.

One Friday morning, Jeff had been sleeping for around 17 hours straight. His eyes were puffy and red from yet another night of crying himself to sleep. He began to stir when something caught his attention. A vacuum cleaner. His mom was vacuuming the hallway. It was around 11 in the morning. Jeff knew she wasn’t cleaning, she was trying to wake him up.

He buried his head under his pillow, his black nails gripping the white fabric case in an attempt to block out the noise. He desperately wanted more sleep, even though he had been getting more than enough. He realized his attempt was futile when his room door opened, and his stepmother entered. She wore pink capri jeans, an expensive belt, a patterned paisley tank-top, a revolting lipstick color, and a pair of flats. It was an odd choice for the dead of winter. Jeff peeked out from under his pillow, and saw her. He immediately knew that something was up. His suspicions were proved when his stepmother began to speak,

“Jeff! Wake up! It’s a beautiful morning!” She uninvitedly pulled his curtains open, and let the sunlight in, further angering her eldest son. He felt like a vampire being burned alive, as sunlight hadn’t touched his skin in days,

“Mom- What?” He groaned, sitting up in his bed. His stepmother frowned when she saw him. His shaggy black hair was messy, and streaks of eyeliner stained his pale cheeks,

“Jeff, wipe that depressing muck off of your face. It isn’t proper.” She scolded, switching the vacuum cleaner off,

“Are we going somewhere?” Jeff asked, pulling his slippers on as he stepped out of bed. He wore blue sweatpants from his old hockey team, and a black, Jason Vorhees themed hockey shirt.

“Jeff! I have a wonderful surprise for you!” She cheesed, moving to her stepson and grabbing his hands. Jeff was disgusted. This affection was so fake, and her words were sweetly superficial. They dripped from her mouth like honey,

“I know things haven’t been easy for you with Liu gone. I’ve struggled a bit myself.” She lied. Jeff resisted the urge to scoff, and instead raised a quick eyebrow, before settling back into his bored expression, “But, we’re going to set things right. We-“

“Is Liu coming home?” Jeff’s face lit up. This was mostly a jab at his stepmother, a way to show that whatever she was offering, he didn’t care. It was also a glimmer of hope that just maybe, he would see his brother again soon,

“Jeffery. We talked about that.” She looked up sternly at stepson.

“Jeff.” He corrected her. An unnoticeable smile tugged at the left corner of Jeff’s mouth, knowing his disinterest was absolutely killing her. She wanted so badly to fight, but she swallowed her pride, knowing she couldn’t fight to get what she wanted,

“Jeff… The Haydens have invited us over to their house. Randy’s mother and I want to set things right between the two of you.” Jeff felt like the floor had fallen from underneath him, and his heart rate began to increase at the mention of his foe. The feeling was back, the one he hadn’t felt since he was on the ice. That awful, sadistic hatred.

“No. No, Mom. Not in a million years, no.” He ripped his hands out of his stepmother’s grip, and ran one hand through his hair. He started to hyperventilate. He needed to calm down.

“Jeff! What is wrong with you?” His stepmother placed her hands on her hips, “Is it really that bad to make amends? Do you hate the idea of being friends with a normal person that much?”

“Normal person? Does she even know what he did?” Jeff thought, his knuckles whitening from the fists he was making. His stepmother prepared to use her secret weapon,

“This may change your mind. If you make this work for us, Liu can come home early.” Jeff stopped. This kind of a move was his father’s idea, as his stepmother was far too dull to come up with a plan as elaborate as this. His parents had absolutely backed him into a corner. He was trapped. He had no choice. His stepmother took his hands again, her fake, bedazzled nails clawing at Jeff’s skin. He sighed, begrudgingly admitting his defeat,

“Fine.” He muttered, staring down at the floor. Her expression changed from one of anger, back to one of superficial delight.

“I knew you would! Thank you, son. We’re leaving at 6 tonight. Make sure you eat something.” Before she left, she did a double take at Jeff’s black nails, “What is this? Jeff, just- I can’t- clean this off before we leave.” With that, she stormed out of his room, not shutting the door behind her. Jeff stood still, unable to process what had just happened. With all of this rage pent up inside of him, he did the only thing he could think to do.

Jeff gave a swift, unforgiving blow to the wall on his left, right through his Pantera poster, and right through the drywall. He didn’t care. It was just paper. He held his head in his hands, and sat on his bed.

He realized then that it was the first time in a week that he hadn’t been under the hazy trance that controlled his movements while he idly watched. He actually felt in control of his actions. This thought only lasted for a moment, before his attention was directed back towards getting Liu home,

“This is for Liu. It’s just one night. How bad can it be?” Jeff breathed in and out, “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’ll be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was around when Jeff started getting ready. He found that he couldn’t decide what to wear. When he had come downstairs with a red band t-shirt, a black zip up jacket, black skinny jeans, and Converse, his parents were upset, and sent him back upstairs to change. Luckily, he still had around 30 minutes to decide.

He kept the pair of black skinny jeans on, and opened the door to his closet. All he had to wear were band tees, striped shirts, and patterned or printed hoodies. He furrowed his brow, and began to sift through his wardrobe. Finally, he made it to the back of the row of hangers. All he found was a plain white hoodie. He sighed, realizing it was his best bet. He threw it on over a black System of a Down t-shirt, his favorite band. He laced up his Converse again, and called it a day. It wasn’t exactly fashionable, but it was his.

Jeff picked up an eyeliner pencil and held it in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, examining the label. He remembered that he purchased it from a corner drugstore outside of his neighborhood in Milwaukee a week after he got his full license. He realized that he hadn’t thought about home in a while, which only made the memory more painful. Just as these thoughts flew through Jeff’s mind, he heard a voice call from downstairs,

“Jeff! We’re leaving!” His father called. Jeff looked at the clock on his wall. It read 5:55.

“One second!” Jeff called back, quickly lining his eyes and blending the pigment with his middle finger. He grabbed his phone and his earbuds, and ran swiftly down the stairs. When his parents saw him, they frowned,

“You’re wearing that?” They asked in unison, before Jeff’s stepmother looked at her phone,

“Oh, no time to change. Let’s just go.” His stepmother shook her head, moving out the front door in her over-the-top winter dress.

Once everyone was in the car, Jeff noticed the empty back seat next to him. Jeff looked at his family, noticing how overdressed they were,

“Jeff, why on earth do you think that attire is appropriate?” His father asked, glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

“Don’t you think you’re a little overdressed?” Jeff commented, sitting criss-cross in the car’s seat. His father was about to lecture Jeff, but he was stopped by his wife,

“Jeff, we may be overdressed, but this is how you go if you want to make an impression.” His stepmother explained, as Jeff quit listening. He plugged in his earbuds and began to mentally prepare to be in the same house with Randy for the whole night. He looked out the window. The sun had just begun to set, and the snow fell down gracefully. The sky was a dark blue color, with hints of a sunset behind a dreary overcast on the horizon. That winter hadn’t been super snowy, for Wisconsin at least. It only snowed every couple of days, but it was still very cold. Instead of admiring the beauty of nature, Jeff imagined a scene much more beautiful to him,

Jeff was digging a clip-point knife into Randy’s sternum, breaking each of his ribs with memorable cracking. The look of terror on his face was priceless, as was the crimson blood that stained Jeff’s clothes. He relished in the pained screams and the weak struggling that came from his prey.

“Jeff? Are you listening to me?” His stepmother’s shrill voice interrupted his train of thought,

“Um…yes?”

”Then what did I say?”

“I don’t- I don’t know?” His stepmother sighed, and shook her head. Jeff just continued to stare out the window, his mind wandering back to sadistic visions of gore.

The Woods had driven eastward a little ways out of town. This is where the dairy farms were in the county. All of the sudden, they were surrounded by a thick forest. After they drove a little ways longer down the winding back road, they made it to Randy’s house. They were around 20 minutes from Jeff’s house, and 10 minutes from the school.

They pulled into the Hayden’s long driveway slowly, so as to not lose traction on the ice. They drove for about a minute, before they found the house. It was huge, a borderline mansion. It was painted white with blue shutters and a matching navy blue door. The lawn was illuminated by the glow of warm lights coming from indoors. The house was in the middle of the woods, which made for great privacy. Jeff admired their place. Even he had to admit that it was nice.

They three exited the car, and walked up to the porch. Jeff’s father knocked on the door. Jeff shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pocket. The door opened, and they were greeted by Randy’s mom, whom Jeff hadn’t met. She was a taller, thinner woman. She had short blonde hair that framed her face, and the same dark blue eyes as Randy. She wore a light blue winter sweater, black dress pants, and white ankle boots. She gave the trio a smile, and welcomed them into her home. As Jeff walked in, he could smell roast beef and various vegetables and sides cooking. He had, once again, forgotten to eat, so his stomach growled at the smell of the delicious food. Randy’s mother turned her attention away from Jeff’s parents, and to Jeff,

“You must be Jeff. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Kirsten.” Randy’s mom was a brain surgeon, the breadwinner of the family. She had a strong Canadian accent. She offered Jeff a hand to shake, and he reluctantly obliged.

“Kirsten, are you aware that having your son was a mistake?” Jeff thought, putting his hand back into his pocket,

“I’m really sorry about everything that's happened,” Kirsten pouted her face deceitfully, “Randy never gets into fights. He told me that Jeff is new, and is still getting adjusted.” Jeff turned his head to the side, and then back to Mrs. Hayden. He just couldn’t resist a slight jab at her,

Jeff rolled his eyes, making sure that Mrs. Hayden could see him. Her face flickered with resentment before returning to its false hospitality.

”Jeff, the boys are upstairs in Randy’s room. It’s the second door on the right.” Jeff felt his stomach flip. The dreaded moment of the night had finally come. He gave a curt nod, and turned to the stairs beside where they stood. As he walked, he took note of the family pictures hung all over the walls of the staircase. Once he completed his ascent, he turned right.

There was a dim light coming from underneath one of the doors. Jeff took a shaky inhale, and knocked twice. The conversation inside stopped. He waited for a moment before the door opened. He was face-to-face with his redheaded enemy. Jeff quickly averted his eyes to the floor, waiting for something to happen.

“Hey.” Randy also averted his eyes from Jeff. They stood parallel to each other, unsure of what to do or say. Randy broke the silence with an awkward, “Come in.”

Randy’s room was decorated with Maple Leaf posters, and other hockey decorations. Jeff assumed by his mother’s accent, and Randy’s room, that she was from Toronto. Jeff noticed four other boys in the room with Randy. Tom and Adam sat on the carpeted floor around a TV with a paused video game displayed on the screen, and Troy and Keith sat on Randy’s bed. Jeff felt his heart rate increase. He was at least relieved to see two others who seemed to be there against their wills as well. Randy sat on a gaming chair next to his bed. All eyes were on Jeff, so he broke the incredibly awkward silence,

“I’m…sorry about…everything, dude.” He apologized, even though he didn’t mean a word of what he said. Swallowing his pride did not taste good, but he would have said anything to make Liu come back home. To Jeff’s surprise, Randy laughed.

“It’s fine. I don’t care if you don’t care.” He shrugged, grabbing the PlayStation controller and unpausing the game. Jeff let out a sigh of relief, and plopped down on the floor next to Tom. Tom was playing the game, and Adam was watching.

Jeff remembered Randy’s comment about how Adam “probably couldn’t afford” to go to Milwaukee. He wondered why Adam’s family was at Randy’s house if they disliked them so much. Despite his apology going well, Troy and Keith’s silence made Jeff nervous. Jeff pulled his hoodie off over his head to fight the heat in the house.

”You like System of a Down?” Randy asked, noticing Jeff’s T-shirt.

“Yeah.” Jeff replied, looking down at his t-shirt.

“Name three songs.” Jeff was a bit annoyed at Randy’s pretentious comment, as it seemed like something a middle schooler would say. However, when he looked up, he noticed that Randy was smiling. Not a mean smile, a genuine, happy smile. Jeff felt like he was dreaming,

“Sugar, Soil, and uh…Chop Suey.” Jeff answered proudly.

“Poser.” Randy leaned forward, throwing a punch at Tom’s video game character. Jeff couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so he just tried to continue the conversation,

“What about you?” Jeff questioned,

“Huh?”

“What music do you like?���

“I’m a Led Zeppelin fan. My dad introduced me to them when I was younger.”

“Name three songs.”

“Gallows Pole, Immigrant Song, and The Battle of Evermore.” Randy answered as he won the match in his game, “Do you and Adam want a turn?” Randy asked, offering Jeff his controller. Jeff was hesitant, but agreed. He was a little weirded out by Randy’s weird shift in behavior, but he decided that he would just go downstairs and hide in a bathroom or something until it was time to leave.

After a while of being there, Jeff had actually started to relax a bit. He started to let his guard down, and actually began to have fun with the boys. They played video games, talked about music, hockey, girls, and other teenage-boys things. Jeff even got to hear about some of the town's gossip,

“What have you done while you’ve been out, Jeff?” Adam asked, watching Jeff and Tom fight in Randy’s video game. Jeff let out a long sigh, and shook his head,

“A whole lot of nothing.” He admitted, “My parents took pretty much everything from me, and thanks to the medication I’m on, I can’t drive anywhere. It sucks.” Suddenly, Randy snapped his fingers,

“Driving!” He smiled, eyes wide, “Jeff, do you like cars?” He asked, looking down at Jeff from his bed. When Randy said this, it seemed to grab Troy and Keith’s attention,

“Yeah, I know a little bit about them.” Jeff shrugged, pausing the game.

“Do you want to see my Dad’s 60s mustang? It’s really awesome.” Jeff raised a suspicious eyebrow at Randy,

“Where is it?”

”Oh, in the garage. Trust me, it’s beautiful. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Jeff wanted to say no, but Randy looked so excited. Everything had been going so well. Randy might just want to show him a cool car. Maybe he would get mad if Jeff said no to him. Maybe there would be another fight. Maybe Liu couldn’t come home,

“Sure.” Jeff nodded, throwing his hoodie back on.

“Okay, but we have to be quiet. My dad doesn’t like me going outside after dark, okay?”

”Outside?” Jeff wondered out loud. Randy stood up, and motioned for his friends to follow behind him. Jeff wasn’t sure about going outside, but he was in too deep now, “For Liu. Do it for Liu.” His mind repeated, the thought of his brother coming home early warming his heart.

The six walked through the upstairs hallway into a large family room in the upstairs area. Randy had a second living room. It was to the right of Randy’s room. All of the lights were off. There was another staircase that led downstairs. At the bottom of it, there was a back door that led outside.

“There's a window outside of the door into the dining room, which is where everyone is.” Randy explained, “We have to be quick and quiet or we'll get caught.” The boys nodded, following Randy down the stairs. Once they made it to the door, Randy opened it, and led them outside. The snow was still falling peacefully, and a thick blanket of it covered the ground. It was very dark out, only the porch light illuminating the exterior of the house. They hurried off of the porch and into Randy’s backyard.

The snow crunched underneath the boys’ shoes. Jeff’s legs were cold, and he began to wonder if the jeans he had chosen were the best choice. He could see his breath as he exhaled, following Randy through the backyard.

“Where…are we going?” Jeff asked, feeling a tinge of nausea,

“The garage is a little ways back here. You can’t see it yet, but the light will come on automatically once we get there.” Just as Randy said this, a motion light lit over their heads, revealing a barn at the entrance of the woods. Jeff shivered, breathing hot air into his hands. The barn was about 60 yards from the house.

“Jeff, I promise, it’s gonna be super cool.” Tom smiled, his green eyes reflecting from the light above. Tom’s reassurance made Jeff feel a bit better. He wondered why they were suddenly on Randy’s side after the mean things he had said to them in the locker room.

Randy attempted to push the sliding barn door open, and eventually did after a long grunt. The inside of the barn was pitch black, only the front of the entrance dimly illuminated by the motion light.

“Come in, it’s toward the back.” Randy had an odd look in his eye, but Jeff moved inside anyway. The dirt floors dusted Jeff’s sneakers, and he couldn’t see a foot in front of him.

“So…where’s the ca-“ Jeff’s sentence was cut short by a blunt force connecting with the back of the head. His body hit the ground along with a metal pipe that Randy had just swung. Jeff clutched his head in pain. It was a trap.

Keith kicked him in his back with much force, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Jeff howled in pain. Just as he tried to stand up, another hard kick connected with the back of his neck. After much difficulty, he shakily stood up, facing away from Randy.

“You’re finally up?” Randy snickered, his two cronies by his side. Tom tried to intervene, but he was knocked to the floor by Troy by a swift punch in the throat. Adam was frozen in place while he watched Tom choking on the blood in his throat. Wasn’t really sure what he was going to do. He moved his feet into a shaky fighting stance, and glared at Randy through his brows. They were about 6 feet apart from each other.

Randy lunged at Jeff, and delivered a good punch to his cheek, knocking him back into a dusty chest on the ground. Suddenly, the ringing in his ears slowly started to return. A fire ignited in Jeff, bringing that feeling back. The fury. The sadistic urges. The pleasure. They had all led up to this moment. He rubbed the spot on his cheek where he had been hit, the violent haze beginning to consume him. He forgot everything he ever knew. He didn’t care about hockey, he didn’t care about Liu, and he didn’t care about Milwaukee. All he wanted to do was hurt the three boys in front of him. Jeff dusted his pants off, and looked up at Randy.

Jeff’s pale face was smeared with black eyeliner, dirt, and a slow drip of blood from his nose. What was the most alarming was the look in his eyes. He was like a violent predator closing in on his prey. Jeff slowly turned his head to the side, and stared at Randy. He wiped his nose on his hoodie sleeve, staining its pure fabric with red blood.

“Randy…what are you doing…?” Adam stuttered, watching Jeff and Randy faceoff in silence.

Randy balled up his fists ready to deliver another blow to Jeff’s face, but Jeff acted quicker. He wrapped his hands around Randy’s neck and pushed him to the ground. He wrestled Randy into the dirt, and pinned his arms down with his knees, just as he had done on the ice. He continued to choke Randy, watching him gasp and sputter for air. A surge of adrenaline ran through Randy’s body, and he pushed Jeff off of him. Jeff quickly recovered, and sent a powerful right hook to Randy’s face who was still on the ground, then another, then another. A wicked cackle escaped Jeff’s throat as he watched his visions become reality. Just then, Troy grabbed Jeff’s hoodie, and pulled him off of the ground. Jeff spun around and sent a strong knee to Troy’s groin, causing him to let go of Jeff and fall over.

Keith came out of nowhere and punched Jeff in the back of the neck. This hurt, but it didn’t stun Jeff. Jeff whipped around and sent a hard fist into Keith’s throat, and then into his chest at just the right moment, stopping his heart. Keith stood shocked for just a moment, before his lifeless body collapsed into the dirt with a thud. With a demented laugh, Jeff launched a final kick directly into Keith’s throat for good measure. He looked unconscious to everyone else, when he was in fact dead. Jeff turned around to Troy and Randy, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth,

“GUYS!” Tom called out, blood pouring from his mouth. He was far too scared to intervene. Troy stood up and pulled a knife on Adam and Tom so that they wouldn’t come between Jeff and Randy,

“NO ONE INTERRUPTS THEM, OR GUTS WILL FLY.” Troy barked, shoving Adam to the floor. They were helpless. It was between Jeff and Randy now. Randy’s nose was bleeding just like Jeff’s, and he had a nasty incision on his bottom lip. Jeff breathed heavily, reveling in the twisted satisfaction and pleasure that this violence gave him. Randy stared at Jeff, his eyes overflowing with unbridled hatred. He rushed Jeff, sending his fist flying into his opponent’s cheek. Jeff ducked just in time, but received a brutal kick to his back instead. He let out an angered groan before recovering as fast as he could. He then kicked Randy hard into a shelf on the barn’s wall. When Randy collided with the shelf, several items rattled around and fell to the ground.

A can of kerosene fell from the top shelf with a thud beside Randy, barely missing his head. Randy’s eyes landed on the can, lighting up with an idea so horrific, it made him smile. Jeff took his opportunity while he was still on the ground. Jeff punched Randy in the nose as hard as he could. Randy screamed in pain, and pushed Jeff off of him again. He was as angry as ever now. Randy grabbed a knife that had fallen off of the shelf and stood up. He refixed his gaze on Jeff,

“Randy…NO!” Adam called, running to break them up before being grabbed by Troy. It was too late. Randy stabbed Jeff hard in the shoulder. Jeff let out a guttural scream of agony. It was the most pain he had ever been in in his life. He grabbed Randy’s shoulders, and flipped over on top of him. He pulled the knife out of his own shoulder with another blood curdling scream, and held it right above Randy’s throat. Randy was terrified, and he and Jeff struggled for what felt like an eternity. Just as the tip of the knife connected with Randy’s throat, he felt a tug on the back of his bloodstained hoodie,

”JEFF! RANDY! STOP!” Adam begged, trying to pull Jeff off of him. Troy grabbed Adam, and slammed him onto the dirt floor of the barn, kicking him hard in the face with his cowboy boot.

“WHAT’RE YOU DOING?” Tom cried on his knees, trying not to look at Randy’s disgusting blood stained shirt. Jeff was trying to get back up, but he was losing a lot of blood. He was growing weak. Randy shoved Tom, knocking his small frame to the ground. While Adam was busy trying to calm Tom down, Randy grabbed the can of kerosene that had fallen off of the shelf. If you thought about it, Jeff and Randy weren’t that much different anymore. He was just as insane as Jeff was.

Jeff’s body began to try to crawl out to the snow. His vision was growing blurry. The night was so serene. Randy’s house silhouetted against the trees, the lights from inside shining onto the porch and into the backyard. He could see the adults in the dining room, oblivious to what was going on outside. The snow fell to the ground, only seen under the brassy motion activated light outside of the barn. He couldn’t really hear anything, the ringing in his ears had taken the sense away from him entirely.

He was almost to the outside. When his fingertips reached the cold surface, he was dragged back into the barn by his ankles. Randy kicked Jeff in his ribs as hard as he could. Randy shivered because his long sleeve shirt was so stained with blood, it had frozen halfway to his body. Jeff coughed up blood, the metallic liquid staining the dirt.

Randy turned around and stumbled to the shelf. He saw the half empty gallon of kerosene spilled on the ground. He picked it up and started to unscrew the cap.

“Randy…what are you doing?” Troy tried to talk to his friend while still holding Adam and Tom back. The bully realized how long Keith had been laying still for, and began to assume the worst,

“RANDY, THIS IS TOO FAR!!” Adam yelled, Randy pointed the knife at him, and widened his eyes. He could barely be seen in the darkness of the barn,

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP TROY! GET AWAY FROM US OR I SWEAR, I’LL GUT YOU!” Randy screeched, throwing the kerosene can’s cap to the ground. Tom, Troy and Adam were frozen. They wanted to run and tell the adults, but they were scared of what Randy would do to them. They watched helplessly as Randy poured what little was left in the gas tank onto Jeff’s body. Jeff groaned in pain when the gasoline met the wound on his shoulder. He used the last ounce of his strength trying to crawl away. The fluid made him colder than he already was. He shivered, his vision beginning to fade.

Randy let out a chilling laugh. He then took a lighter out of his coat pocket, and struggled to summon the flame. Finally, Randy’s face brightened in the darkness from the orange glow of the lighter. Adam ran towards Randy, but it was too late. As soon as the lighter hit Jeff’s kerosene soaked hoodie, his entire back went up in flames. The scream he let out shook all of the boys to their cores, including Randy. His adrenaline surged and he actually managed to stand up as Randy and Adam fought behind him. He was an inferno, using his last bit of life to tear what remained of his hoodie from his body. The fire had soaked into his teeshirt, which now burned into his skin. Jeff panicked as the flames seared his skin, moving up his body. His skin melted, and sloughed off into the snow in chunks, hissing when it hit the cold snow. The fire cauterized the wound on his shoulder as he collapsed backwards into the cold powder.

The back of his body was put out, but his front was still on fire. The flames had reached his face, and now up in his hair. He tore at his skin, trying to extinguish the blaze. Instead, he just tore pieces of flesh from his face, only worsening the pain. He used his last bit of life to flip his body over. He laid motionless in the cold snow. He still couldn’t hear anything. He stared sideways at the treeine against the night sky. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, and even if it was out, he wouldn’t have been able to see it over the motion light. Everything seemed completely peaceful as the snow fell around him. The pain slowly subsided, as did Jeff’s consciousness.

The last thing Jeff remembered seeing before he faded away was the tall, faceless man standing over him under the flickering barn light.

The Breaking

Jeff’s body had laid still in the hospital for 2 weeks, going in and out of stable condition. He was a medical miracle. If it hadn’t been for the thick blanket of powdery snow on the ground that put out the fire, he would have certainly died.

Jeff’s friends and close family members had visited him throughout his hospitalization. His parents had only stopped by when they absolutely had to, even Jeff’s stepmother, who was a stay-at-home mom. Jeff awoke in the hospital room on a Wednesday.

He could just barely open his eyes as his entire head was wrapped in sterile, white bandages. There were several vases of flowers beside his bed, including an especially beautiful blue and yellow bouquet from Jeff’s old travel hockey team in Milwaukee.

He made a weak attempt to sit up, not realizing the extent to which his upper-half was wrapped up. He was bandaged all the way down to his upper stomach, and all the way down his wrists. He tried to sit up one more time, and was successful. He brought his hands up to his face, and felt the coarse bandages under his fingertips. He tried to unwrap them, but was interrupted by a nurse rushing into his room,

“Hello, Jeffery!” She whispered cheerfully before grabbing Jeff’s hands. He was annoyed that she didn’t call him ‘Jeff’, but he could hardly speak to correct her,

“Water…” He croaked, his throat as dry as a desert. The nurse ran over to a sink in the room, and poured him a little paper cup of water. She put it up to Jeff’s lips, and let him drink in small sips. He started to take in his surroundings,

“Where…am I? What happe-“ This was all Jeff’s mind could process before the memories came pouring back in. His body engulfed in flames and the smell of kerosene and burnt flesh singing his nose after he had been beaten nearly to death. His hands clawing at the dirt floor of the barn to make it to the snow so that he could escape the agony. Randy’s sick grin under his disgusting blue eyes. Jeff felt rage flow through his veins at the thought of Randy.

“Jeffery? Hello?” The nurse asked, waving her hand in front of his face. Jeff responded without averting his gaze an inch,

“It’s Jeff.” He muttered faintly, memories of the fire scorching his skin replaying over and over in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” The nurse was a bit stunned at Jeff’s terrifying blue eyes, “So…Jeff…how are you feeling? Do you need more water?” She asked. Jeff didn’t answer with words. He instead shook his head slowly. The nurse hit the call button, and within minutes, doctors and nurses swarmed the hospital room.

The next few hours, Jeff was pelted with redundant questions from every direction. About an hour in, Jeff stopped answering them entirely. All he could think about was hurting people. Hurting the doctors. Hurting the nurses surrounding him. Mr. H, Coach Barkley, and of course, Randy.

That night, Jeff was left alone by everyone, excluding the first nurse that had originally come to check on him. She would periodically return to give him food or water whenever he needed it. That night, she entered Jeff’s room to find him watching a movie on the TV in front of his bed. On screen, Laurie Strode hid in her closet from Michael Myers, who was just about to break through the door.

“Halloween?” She smiled, carrying a tray of broth. Jeff slowly turned to look up at her. He nodded, “That’s one of my favorites. Have you seen Rob Zombie’s version?” She asked, setting the tray beside Jeff’s bed,

“I hate that movie.” Jeff mumbled, almost inaudibly. He tracked her every move out of the corner of his light blue eyes.

“Me too.” She laughed, agreeing with her patient. She looked to be fresh out of college, with dark, hazel eyes, and long, wavy, brown hair. Freckles dotted her pale face, and she wore dark blue scrubs.

“Michael Myers is my favorite slasher.” Jeff breathed, turning his face back to his movie.

“I love Scream.” She admitted, beginning to spoon feed Jeff his broth. If Jeff was in his right mind, he would have been very embarrassed. Instead, he was enveloped in the body that Michael Myers hung on the wall with a knife through the neck. Jeff found that he liked this nurse, and he wanted to know more about her,

“What’s your name?” He turned his gaze back to her without moving his head,

“Oh I’m Jane.” She smiled, and gave Jeff another spoonful of warm broth. When Jeff finished his dinner, the nurse switched the movie off, and tucked Jeff into bed,

“Will you be here in the morning?” Jeff wondered. His voice almost had a creepy, child-like tone to it.

“Um- Yes! I’ll be here.” She answered, “Goodnight, Jeff. Use the call button if you need anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeff’s January, February, and the beginning of March were spent in the hospital healing from his burn wounds. Every couple of days, his favorite nurse, Jane, would come in to change his bandages. They would have the same conversation every time:

”Do you want to see your face, Jeff?” She would ask, offering him a mirror. He would shake his head, and giggle childishly,

“No, no, no…It’s not time yet.”

Jeff’s friends would visit sometimes, and Stanley came once a week to check on him. Jeff didn’t care anymore. When they would come, he would give them one word responses to all of their questions, hoping that they would go away. Sometimes, he would pretend to be asleep so that they would drop their gifts off and leave. He had much more important matters at hand.

He would mutter to himself about Randy, or his parents, and about how much he hated them. He would watch his movies, and imagine himself as the antagonist. Every character that died was Randy Hayden. These movies only fueled his twisted fantasies further.

Jeff also began to refuse treatment as much as he could, as it would interrupt his thoughts. His doctors and visitors were beginning to notice Jeff’s behavior. It concerned them, but they replaced their worries with blissful indifference, and moved on. Finally, the day Jeff would be discharged came.

Jeff had insisted multiple times every day that his family not be there when his bandages were finally removed, but unfortunately, his wishes weren’t granted. Jeff’s stepmother and father were scheduled to come in and see Jeff’s bandage removal. Little did Jeff know, there was a surprise that came with them.

“Jeff?” Liu’s voice caused Jeff to turn rapidly towards the doorway, hurting his neck a little in the process,

“Liu?” He called back as his half brother ran to him in an embrace.

“Jeff! I missed you so much!” Liu cried into Jeff’s shoulder, hugging him tight. Jeff’s reunion with Liu didn’t feel anything like he thought it would. He wasn’t really excited or joyed to see his brother. It was underwhelming. It felt empty. He realized then that he had barely given his brother’s absence a thought while in the hospital. Liu was taken away from Jeff with a gentle nudge by Jeff’s main doctor.

“Well…are you ready?” The doctor asked, standing beside Jeff’s bed in a pristine white lab coat. The 4 nurses that had cared for Jeff, including Jane, as well as Jeff’s parents, and Liu stood around the bed in anticipation. Jeff gave a little nod, and felt his arm bandages begin to be unwound. He shut his eyes tight to avoid spoiling the surprise. When the bandage at Jeff’s left shoulder was all the way off, he heard his stepmother irk in horror. The doctor shot her a look, before moving to the other side of the bed to unwrap Jeff’s other arm.

After his chest bandages had been unwrapped, it was time for the grand finale. The doctor unwrapped Jeff’s face, and shakily peeled away the gauze. The whole room gasped when his face was finally revealed.

Jeff opened his eyes, and immediately looked down. His upper arms, shoulders, and chest were covered in jagged peaks and valleys where smooth, pale skin had once been. Surgery scars etched shiny lines all along his upper body. He was a mosaic of pale pink and tan. He slowly moved his hands to touch his chest. The ridges and bumps felt unfamilar to him. Jeff gazed in the mirror that had been provided. The mirror shook, and his knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped the handle.

His face was covered in jagged burn scars that ran all across his face. The upper right side had been relatively unscathed, but his nose, cheeks, chin, and left eye were severely damaged. The outer half of his left eyebrow was gone. He moved his black hair to the side, and found that he had a bit of an undercut below his ear where his hair had been burned away. His blue eyes stood out even more now that his face was covered in scars, almost seeming to glow.

“Mr. And Mrs. Woods…May I speak to you outside?” The lead doctor asked, giving a look of sympathy to Jeff’s stepmother, who was now crying. They were taken outside, and the doctor began to speak,

“Your son is a very lucky boy. Dare I say a walking miracle. He made an incredible recovery, one of the best I’ve ever seen in my 25 years here. However, he still has a long road ahead of him.”

Jeff’s father glared at the doctor, and moved to comfort his wife. The nurses and doctors exited Jeff’s room so that he could spend time alone with his family. Jeff’s parents stayed outside, and spoke quietly together in the lobby of the hospital.

Meanwhile, Liu watched with a great deal of concern as his older brother stared at himself in the mirror. He wore a green hospital gown, and grippy socks. Jeff would feel his skin, and stare at his scarred face. Liu couldn’t tell how he was feeling, as Jeff hadn’t said anything since they had embraced.

“Jeff…It’s not that bad…” Liu tried to comfort him, setting a gentle hand on Jeff’s lower back to avoid touching his scars.

“Not that bad?” He spun around to look at Liu, “It’s perfect!” Jeff turned back around, and laughed.

“Um…What?” Liu raised an eyebrow, worry beginning to simmer inside of him.

“This new face…It matches me perfectly! It’s perfect. It-It looks like me.” Jeff began to repeat ‘It’s perfect’ over and over under his breath, wrapping his fingers in his hair. Liu backed out of the hospital room’s bathroom without his brother noticing. He crept into the hallway, looking for a doctor. He ran straight into Jane, who was carrying clothes for Jeff.

“U-um…are you a doctor?” He mumbled, a bit taken aback by her beauty.

”I’m a nurse, sweetheart.” She answered, “What can I do for you?”

”Um…I don’t think my brother is…okay.” He whispered, not wanting to alert Jeff to his conversation. Jane looked slightly confused,

“How so?”

“He isn’t upset about his face at all…he’s happy. He keeps talking about how “perfect” it is.” Liu answered, talking nervously with his hands.

“Ah…um…I’ll tell the doctor. In the meantime, you can wait outside while your brother gets changed.” Liu nodded, and sat on a bench beside his brother’s room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeff gave his doctors and nurses a final goodbye right before he was discharged. He never really cared for any of them, except for Jane. He found her odd. She wasn’t like the rest of the staff. She was the only one who got a hug from Jeff.

The car ride home was bleak and empty. Muffled sobs from Jeff’s stepmother, the engine, and the wind rushing past the car were the only sounds that could be heard. Jeff didn’t pay attention, and instead smiled widely while looking out the window. Liu felt odd, and decided to break the silence,

“What’s for dinner? We should go somewhere special for Jeff.” He suggested, before a scoff from his father,

“Shut up, Liu.” He spoke bluntly, as his wife continued to sob. Liu was alarmed. His parents were mean, but never that bluntly. He looked back at Jeff, to see if this had elicited any reaction from him. Nothing. He continued to smile wide, and stare out the window.

Liu couldn’t explain it, but he had a horrible feeling. A gut-wrenching, sickening, alarm-bell-ringing feeling. His brother needed help, and he knew that his parents would delay a psychiatry appointment for as long as they could.

The End

That night, Jeff hadn’t been able to sleep a wink. All he could think about were his parents, Randy, and his beautiful new face.

They had ruined everything. His parents took his home, his school, hockey, and his brother from him. They wouldn’t listen to his (or his half-brother’s) cries for help, no matter how desperate they were. And when he thought that it couldn’t possibly get worse, they sent him to the slaughter house. They sent him to die. Though Jeff didn’t view his appearance in a negative way, they were why he was disfigured. It was all their fault.

And Randy. He had been a nuisance since the moment he arrived in Elmerville. If he had just left Jeff alone, they might have made a great team. Jeff hated him. He hated him more than his parents. His heart pounded harder than it ever had before. Then, he realized something. He had beat Randy pretty badly when he had first arrived at the school, but Randy had hit him back harder. He had bit off more revenge than he could chew. He hadn’t even been punished for it, as his parents just paid for an expensive lawyer to get him out of the trouble.

Jeff wasn’t like him. He knew that the score needed to be settled. He knew that justice needed to be served. Jeff’s cheeks burned from his manic smiling, and he dropped the facial expression. He sat up in his bed, and shook his fluffy hair around.

“I can’t smile anymore.” He whispered out loud to himself, followed by an angry head shake and groan. He gripped his head in his hands, and gave a loud sigh. Then, an idea popped into his broken mind. He regained his smile, and jumped out of bed with a start to head downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeff’s stepmother awoke when she heard a noise coming from outside of her bedroom. She had always been a light sleeper, unlike her husband. She sighed, and tried to ignore it. It was around 12 in the morning. Her hair was in curlers, and she wore pink satin pajamas. The noise grew louder, and she found that she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She figured it was Liu trying to sneak a midnight snack. Too bad he couldn’t be any quieter.

She pulled her slippers on, and walked slowly to her bedroom door. She opened it, allowing her to better hear the noises. The guest bathroom’s light was on. It was across the living room from their room, about 25 feet away. She crept towards it, finding that the door was slightly opened. It sounded almost like crying. As she approached the door, her mind made more sense of what she heard. It was laughter. Twisted, evil laughter. A chill ran down her spine.

When she set her hand on the door to open it, the laughter instantly stopped. She took a quick breath, unsure of what to do. She hesitated before pushing the door all the way open. What she saw horrified her. Her hands moved to cover her agape mouth as her body was frozen in shock.

Jeff stood in front of the bathroom vanity, which was covered in blood. Bloody handprints covered the mirror, as well as the walls, the sink, the floor, and even the cabinet below the sink. The bathroom looked like a piece of modern art. Jeff gripped a blood soaked knife in his right hand, evidence of what he had just done. His burned cheeks were freshly sliced open into a gruesome smile. Blood poured out onto his light gray band tee-shirt, underneath which he wore a long sleeved black shirt. Mrs. Woods had a look of disbelief on her face as she stared at what her son had done to himself,

“You…Jeff- What- What have you done?” She stared at him as he let out a soul-chilling cackle.

“I-I couldn’t keep smiling…It….It hurt after a while…so…I did this! Now, I can smile forever...” His pale blue eyes were ringed in black. He had taken his eyeliner in a messy attempt to enhance his appearance.

“Son…you look hideous…w-what have you done!?” She screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks, “All these years your father and I have been through, and for what?!” Jeff’s psychotic smile changed. His chin tilted downwards, and he stared at his stepmother through his eyebrows. His smile fled his face,

“You…d-don’t think I’m beautiful…do you?” He cocked his head slightly to the side. Before his stepmother could answer, he rushed her with his knife, gutting her. Her organs and copious amounts of red blood spilled out onto the bathroom floor, furthering the mess he had already created. Jeff couldn’t contain his laughter as he watched her lifeless body fall to the floor, twitching and sputtering for air. When he looked up, he saw his father standing in the darkness of the living room, frozen in terror,

“Son…” Was all he said. Jeff resumed a smile, although it wasn’t quite as large this time,

“Dad?” Jeff questioned, wiping the blood on his knife off with his sleeve, “Do you think I’m beautiful?” Jeff’s father stared at his wife’s bloody corpse on the floor. He said nothing, his biggest mistake. Jeff’s smile faded again, and he lunged at his father.

His shoved his son, but it had nothing to it. Jeff was a machine that was running off of adrenaline, bloodlust, and rage, a deadly combination. He stabbed his father in the chest, his ribs cracking loudly. When Jeff pulled the knife out. Jeff’s father yowled, clutching his bloody shirt. He staggered backwards, unsure of what to do. He fell into the short coffee table with a loud crash. The glass shattered beneath his weight, and the wood support that held the table up in the middle impaled him straight through his stomach. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

He looked up at his eldest son, his blue eyes seeming to glow in the dark. The only sounds were Jeff’s footsteps and the drops of his own blood hitting the floor. Jeff tilted his head to the side again, staring at his helpless father’s suffering. When he was bored of this sight, he leaned over him, and slit his throat, blood spurting out on the carpet.

When Jeff stood back up, he sighed out and smiled again. He was pleased with what he saw. He had made such quick work of his parents, and it felt great. They wouldn’t be there to bother him anymore. When he stood up to leave, he heard a soft groaning sound coming from behind him. When he turned around, he saw his stepmother crawling towards him, dragging her intestines out behind her. She left a smear of blood on the floor like a snail. Jeff got down to her level, and finished her off with a quick stab in the back of her neck.

He flopped down on the couch for a moment, examining the chaos of the living room that was only illuminated by the light from the guest bathroom. Warm blood flowed slowly down his chin and neck, but he couldn’t feel a thing. It was eerily silent, his surroundings standing in awe at what he had just done.

He pondered his next move, and decided to go for a drive. He padded silently up the stairs, and stepped quietly through the hallway. Just as he was about to enter his room, he remembered his brother. He walked slowly to Liu’s room, his door already cracked open. When he pushed on the wood, he found his brother asleep in his bed. He listened to music with headphones, so Jeff knew he wouldn’t have heard any of the commotion downstairs.

Jeff moved silently to Liu’s bed, and leaned over him. This woke Liu up, but just barely. The room was too dark for him to actually see Jeff’s appearance.

“Jeff…?” He muttered sleepily. Jeff gave his brother a bloody kiss on the forehead, “Jeff did you…wash your face?” Liu chuckled, wiping his forehead with his sleeve and pulling his covers over his shoulder. Jeff smiled slightly, stroking his brother’s brown hair with his hand.

“Go to sleep, asshole.” Liu whispered, hugging his pillow and trying to return to his slumber. Jeff said nothing and took his knife out of his pocket, wiping it clean of his parent’s blood with his hoodie sleeve.

“No, Liu.” He uttered, a short giggle escaping his lungs. Liu stirred more, sitting up in his bed. Jeff grabbed Liu’s shoulder, and pushed him back down into his bed with force, “Jeff, stop-”

Jeff raised his knife above his head, the light from the hallway catching the blade. It took Liu a moment to process, but when he did, he let out a scream so loud, Jeff had to cover his mouth with his hand to shut him up. He plunged the knife directly into Liu’s chest. Directly into his beating heart. Liu looked stunned, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened to him. Jeff yanked the knife out, and stabbed him again. Then again. Then again. He kept going for around 5 minutes, until Liu’s poor body had around 34 stab wounds in it. He looked like a slush of blood, organs, and bone fragments. His face was unrecognizable because Jeff had carved a deep smile into his cheeks to match his own. Liu didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. He was dead. Jeff’s beloved brother was dead, and he felt nothing.

Jeff climbed out of Liu’s blood-soaked bed, and dusted himself off. Obviously, this did no good. He threw Liu’s door open, knowing now that he was basically home alone. He felt sick to his stomach. What he had done hadn’t quite registered yet. He was too focused on what he was going to do next. He had limited time. He had to make the most of it.

Jeff went back to his room, leaving bloody footprints in the carpet. He flipped his bedroom light on, and began to search for what he needed. He changed his clothes, as the ones he was wearing were completely saturated in blood, and would become unbearable in the cold. He put on a team hockey hoodie from his old school, and a Black Veil Brides shirt over it for warmth. He grabbed a black jacket, his fuzzy socks, boots, and a thicker pair of insulated pants. He had some fingerless gloves that he pulled on, along with a couple of bracelets from his nightstand.

Jeff walked down the stairs, and passed the site where he murdered his parents. He admired his work for one more quick moment, before grabbing his car keys off of the kitchen’s island with shaking hands. When he opened the house’s garage door, he felt a rush of chilly air surround his body. He looked out into the serene night sky, dusted with stars and the occasional clouds. It was mesmerising. With one final glance backwards at his parents, he disappeared into the night, leaving the new house’s door wide open.

OH MY GOSH??? YOU READ THE WHOLE THING???? THIS MUST MEAN THAT YOU LIKED IT?? THANKS!!

[dragonjesterwrites]

Late af but have a Valentine's Day oneshot I whipped up in like an hour and some change

Please enjoy 2k words of Sun and Moon getting jealous of your new Roomba lmao

~~~~~

"Hey, loves, I'm back!"

You stooped to pick up the hefty box by your feet as the front door swung open, the keys still in the lock marking the movement with their jingling. The indoor air that rushed briefly over you smelled like freshly baked, warm cookies, and beneath that, tinges of lemon and pine.

Sun rounded the corner in a flash of yellow, skidding to a stop in front of you and bouncing up and down on his heels. "Welcome home, Sunshine! Whatcha got there? Do you want me to carry it in? And how was work?"

You let out a warm laugh and leaned up and over to kiss your hyperactive partner, enjoying the excited nuzzling he immediately reciprocated with. "I've got it, love, thank you. Work was great, and as for this-" You shifted the box in your arms as you carried it in, toward the living room. "-Well, you'll see in a minute."

"Ooh, a surprise~!" Sun exclaimed, hanging back for a moment to pull the keys out and close the front door before bounding over. "Can I guess what it is? Can I?"

"Yeah, you can guess. We have time until Moon gets here. Where is he, anyway?" You asked, setting the box down and looking over your shoulder from your crouched position.

"He's in the garage, organizing the bins- we spent the whole day cleaning and baking!" Sun told you, and you stood to survey the house. The pillow fort on the couch had been redone, neater and cozier, the gleaming floors swept and mopped, the bookcases and coffee table free of dust- even the walls and ceilings looked clean.

It looked amazing, and you turned and hugged him, standing on your tip-toes to pepper appreciative kisses all over his faceplate, smiling when he giggled and wrapped his arms around you tighter.

"Thank you, love, the place looks great." You finally said, pulling back and resting on your feet.

"Aw, you're welcome, Sunbeam!" He replied, dipping down to gently bop his static grin against your forehead. He let go of you fully then, and turned to consider the box, bringing a thumb and finger up to the bottom of his faceplate while his rays pulsed slowly in and out. "Now then… let's see…"

You watched in mild amusement as he knocked on the top of the box, then retracted his rays on one side so he could press his audio receptor to the top of it. "Hrmmm…"

He lifted his head back up and shook it, rays popping out with a ping, then placed one hand flat on the top and tipped it forward, lowering himself further to inspect the bottom. He didn't find anything, given that you'd put the original box into a plain white one so they wouldn't know what it is, and he let out an agitated whine that you had to stifle a laugh at.

"Oh, I simply don't know!" He cried, sprawling out onto the carpet, lanky limbs askew and one hand cast dramatically across his forehead. "Won't you tell me, Dewdrop? Else I fear I shall die of curiosity."

"You'll be fine." Moon called out, the garage door creaking distantly, and you grinned as Sun gasped in excitement, shooting up at the hips before scrambling to stand, apparently recovered from his syncope.

Moon arrived and paused to dip down and nuzzle against your neck, purring quietly, before reaching the box and peering down at it, faceplate tilting this way and that.

"Alright, I give up." He said after about five seconds, turning to you. "May we open it?"

"You barely even tried!" Sun scoffed playfully, then looked at you too. "Can we?"

"Go ahead." You said, a bit eager yourself, and Sun quickly knelt down and tore the lid off of the white box, the tape strips giving way with a series of split-second snaps!

Moon pulled the box out and set it down, and they both fell quiet and still as they examined it.

It was a robotic vacuum cleaner, not top of the line but very well reviewed all the same. You figured it would give you all some more free time, especially Sun and Moon, as they often cleaned while you were at work. You'd also gotten it because you'd seen others name theirs, give it 'treats' in the form of sprinkles or crumbs, and otherwise bond with it like a family pet, and thought it was adorable. 

You waited excitedly for their response, but the silence dragged on, and you felt yourself falter. "What do you think?" You asked after another few seconds, and they seemed to snap out of it then.

"Oh- yeah, I like it." Sun said, giving the box a single pat.

"Mmhmm. Definitely could be very helpful around the house." Moon added.

You wavered, hopeful but still unsure. "It's not, er- offensive, or anything-?"

"No, no, not in the slightest." Sun assured you with a shake of his head. "We like it, really."

You weren't entirely convinced, but you supposed you should just take them at their word and shrugged it off. "Alright, I'll get it set up then! It won't need to clean yet, since you two already have-" You paused to kiss them both briefly, making them both purr, a touch loudly, you noticed- "but just to help it map out the floors. You guys wanna watch a movie or something while it does?"

"Ooh, yeah, let's do that!" Sun said, springing to his feet as his excitable energy abruptly returned, relieving you of the last of the worry that had tensed you up.

"Awesome. You guys kick back and get settled in, I'll take care of the vacuum and the movie."

Well, not exactly the reaction you'd been hoping for, you thought as you finished setting up the movie before kneeling down to open the second box, but maybe they'd like it better after awhile. Maybe they'd even name it.

~~~~~

"Idiot." Sun muttered as the robot vacuum hit a wall for the nth time that morning, clattering loudly.

"Moron." Moon said, throwing a piece of popcorn at it.

It bounced harmlessly off of the vacuum's outer shell and came to rest in front of it. The vacuum paused in its crawl across the floor, as if to consider the offending debris, then maneuvered around it, prompting Moon to grumble and get out of his seat to pick it up himself.

"See? He can't even do his job right." Sun exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air before tightly crossing them. "Needs us to do it for him."

Moon merely grunted in agreement as he passed by, dropping the popcorn piece in the trash bin. The vacuum's whirring got louder as it rounded the corner, trundling in towards him, and Moon had to resist the urge to hiss at it.

"I don't know why our Sunshine got you when they have us." Sun continued sullenly, glaring at the table as the vacuum made a left to go under and began to clatter about below. "We're more sophisticated, more handsome, and we don't run into things constantly."

"...They were trying to do something nice." Moon reluctantly pointed out as he retook his seat. "Now we have more free time." 

"Yeah, I know." Sun sighed, sinking down until the bottom of his faceplate rested on the table. "I just- you saw how they were cooing over him- it- the other day."

"Mm. I remember." Moon replied, recalling perfectly the way you had spent a good half hour fussing over the vacuum after it had gotten clogged- one too many popcorn kernels, apparently. Once you'd cleared it out, you'd reassured it with petting and sprinkles, and even knelt down to give it a little kiss.

He shot the plastic beast a sour glare as it finally freed itself from the tangle of dining chair legs and skittered away.

"I don't know, Moony." Sun sighed, catching Moon's attention. "Maybe being jealous of it is- is silly. It's not sentient like us, after all. What if-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the vacuum bumped into the bookcase, and a framed picture of him and Moon fell, smashing upon contact with the ground. The vacuum crawled on top of the mess and then let out its stuck chirp before beginning to rotate idly on top of the shattered glass, crunching it and driving it into the carpet.

Sun let out a wordless shout of indignation and stomped over to the bookcase, Moon following quickly behind.

"Don't hurt it." He warned, even as murderous intent lit up his own circuits.

"I won't." Sun replied, grabbing the vacuum up off of the floor and carrying it away.

Moon bent down to pick up the picture and frame it was encased in, shaking off the glass before setting it on the bookcase and going to the kitchen for the better vacuum.

By the time he'd lugged it in, Sun had returned, notably without the vacuum, and Moon paused to cock his head at him. "What did you do with it?"

"Put it in the bathtub- no water. Best time out spot I could think of." Sun told him, inspecting the picture frame himself, and Moon nodded as he moved to plug the regular vacuum in.

But before the triple prongs reached the outlet, the sound of a key turning a lock made them both stop and whip their heads around.

"Hey guys, I'm back." You called out, sounding far more tired than you had the past few days. Sun immediately headed over, and Moon looked between the vacuum and the direction of the door only once before getting up and joining you both.

You were in the middle of a yawn as he turned the corner, and he had to resist the affectionate urge to pick you up and carry you to bed for cuddles and a nap. "Long day?" He asked instead, and you chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah. Looking forward to chilling out with you two and Jerry. Where is Jerry, anyway?"

Jerry was the name Sun had suggested for the vacuum. Fitting, if perhaps, Moon acknowledged, a bit cruel- Jerry had been a Parts and Services tech. His constant incompetence and tendency to break things had eventually gotten him fired, but not before he'd wooed half the human staff, something Moon hadn't been able to comprehend for the life of him. You were… admittedly not aware of who Jerry was, having been hired long after his departure, but what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you. 

Although… he did feel a pang of guilt, as you had taken his and Sun's suggestion as acceptance of the vacuum, and they hadn't corrected you in any way.

"Er- Jerry is in time-out." Sun said, beginning to fiddle with his wrist.

"Time-out?" You frowned. "Why?"

"He bumped into the bookcase and broke a picture." Moon explained, and your frown deepened.

"He didn't do it deliberately. He's not sentient- right?" Sun and Moon both vigorously shook their heads at your mildly hesitant question. "Okay, so I don't think he's gonna learn anything from time-out."

"No." Sun muttered. "Suppose not."

You were quiet for a minute, and Moon found himself unable to meet your gaze, shifting from leg to leg as you considered him.

"You're jealous of Jerry." You finally said, making them both wince. It wasn't an accusation, but it wasn't a question either.

"Yes." Moon admitted.

"...How'd you know?" Sun asked.

You chuckled quietly, and then Moon felt a warm hand take his, and he looked up as you led them both to the couch.

"Well, for starters, all you do is glare at it." You began after you were all settled in. "One time, Sunny, I heard you hiss at it. I know where the name Jerry came from- Abby told me. Then there was the time you tried to assassinate it with popcorn kernels, Moony-"

"I wasn't trying to kill it." Moon protested, faltering when you and Sun turned to look at him. "I was just… throwing them at it."

"You hate it." You concluded, and they both nodded.

"Yes, okay, we hate it. We got jealous, and it was stupid, but- it bumps into everything, including us, and it doesn't clean as well as we do, and we just- we just felt like we were being replaced." Sun finally admitted.

He'd started off loud and ended quietly, and the expression on your face was one Moon could only describe as heartbreak.

"I'm sorry. Come here." You said, tugging at them, and they followed your urging, laying down and wrapping themselves around you.

"Don't apologize. We're the ones that should be sorry." Moon mumbled, clutching at you as you petted the rim of his faceplate.

"Yeah. We'll leave Jerry alone. And… maybe rename him." Sun suggested sheepishly, but then he made a curious noise as your laughter gently shook them.

"I mean, it's kinda funny. He does miss a lot of stuff." You said, and Moon leaned into the kiss you pressed against his forehead. "But hey, listen. I'd never replace you two, never. You're my soulmates, and Jerry's a piece of plastic. Tell you what-"

You shifted, and Moon unwound his arm from around your back so you could pull out your phone, watching curiously as you opened it up and began to tap away at the screen with one hand. "I'll call Abby and see if she wants Jerry. Lord knows it could help her with Sweet Potato and Gingerbread."

"Starlight, are you sure?" Moon asked hesitantly. Abby's two cats were fluffy little things, both adorable and extraordinarily messy, and the vacuum certainly would take some stress off of her, but Moon knew the vacuum had eased your worries too, not to mention cost you a pretty penny.

"Yeah. I'll pick up the slack. I'm thinking we can have cleaning days, where we put on music and tidy up the house together." You said, smiling kindly down at Moon. Stars, you were lovely.

"That does sound like a lot of fun." Sun said with a content sigh, sitting up some where you lay on top of him and wrapping his arms around you tighter.

"Awesome." You angled your head back, and Sun extended his neck to meet you halfway, gently pressing into your kiss before you moved back and glanced back down at the phone. "Let me call Abby, and then we can maybe make some brownies? I grabbed a box from the store on my way home."

"I love you." Moon said, and you laughed- such a pretty sound, he thought.

"I love you, too."

[mamawasatesttube]

Can I request konbart and 86 please?

86. "Don't be scared; I'm right here."

"You're doing it again," Bart complains.

On the big common room TV, a zombie looms out of the darkness and slams into the hallway window—classic jumpscare. Bart doesn't flinch; he just opens his inventory, grabs the wooden planks, and boards up the window just as the zombie crashes through. Then he sticks his tongue out at it, for good measure.

The TTK holding his waist in a vice-grip, however...

"Kooooon." Bart reaches over and smacks one rock-hard (ow!) shoulder. "You're squishing me!"

The TTK loosens immediately, and Kon lifts his head from the pillow he's been hiding his face in with a sheepish look. "Sorry. It's just—that's so creepy, dude! How do you not freak playing it?!"

"You're scared of the zombies?" Bart can't help it; he laughs. "The zombies are the least scary thing in this whole game! Just wait 'til you see Mr. X."

"What the fuck is Mr. X?" Kon grips the pillow tighter, his eyes wide. Bart wonders just how much superstrength its seams can take before they give. "Bart. Who or what is Mr. X?"

"You giant baby." Bart grins. Leon keeps traipsing down the corridor; the unfortunately-bisected body of Officer Elliot lunges at him from the floor, and Kon yelps, clutching at Bart's shoulder again. In any other circumstance, it'd be cute; as is, Bart has to laugh at him. "Aw, don't be scared. I'm right here."

His distraction costs him; another zombie looms out of the shadows, and on the screen, Leon cries out as it sinks its teeth into his neck. Aw, grifenuggets. Bart's trying to go for that good good Hardcore mode S rank; he can't afford to waste heals on these chumps!

"This hallway sucks ass," he moans, knifing two of the zombies to death (redeath?) and then booking it outta there, pronto. "It gets worse once Mr. X is in here, though."

Kon stares at the screen with deep, deep suspicion. Bart can't wait to see him jump when Mr. X finally shows up in the station. "Bart. Who the fuck is Mr. X?"

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Bart sing-songs cheerily. The funniest part of this is, Kon was nowhere near this freaked out when they all ended up in that haunted house that was like actually full of malicious ghosts last week (...long story), but the scary video game? Ohhh, noooo. Superboy can't handle that.

It's like when he makes fun of Krypto for being scared of the vacuum cleaner, Bart thinks with glee.

Guess what, Kon? Mr. X is the vacuum cleaner now.

"I'm very worried about it!" Kon huffs. His TTK tightens a little around Bart's ribs again, and then Kon tips over into his side, rigid as can be. He's still clutching his pillow like a lifeline—better it get crushed than Bart's organs, though.

How indignant would he get if Bart told him he's being really cute right now? Like, in a really stupid way, but still. Cute.

"Sounds like a personal problem," Bart says instead, and keeps playing with a grin as Kon splutters at his side.

♥ angst/fluff prompts ♥

[bots-and-cons]

Ramblings and my day

I got two wisdom teeth pulled today, so that was an experience. It took all of 15 minutes, and then I had to wait for my bus for like a half an hour, so that took longer than the actual dentist appointment. I thought it was going to be horrible, I almost cried because I was so nervous when I talked to the dentist before we decided which procedure to do today. The dentist was really nice and understanding, and he made sure I was comfortable the whole time. I hadn't been to the dentist for like 6 years prior to last November, because I couldn't afford it (the student health organization pays for it now, as long as I'm in university) and I dislike it so much, so there's a lot to fix now. It doesn't help that I also hate brushing my teeth, but I've been trying to do better with that. I have 50 days in a row I've washed my teeth now, which is a huge win, and I'm really proud of myself for that, because it's a lot for me.

I dislike going to the dentist immensely, it's such sensory hell. The sounds, all the instruments in my mouth, the numbing that lasts for hours afterward, I dislike all of it. When I was a kid, I had to be physically dragged/carried into the room, because I was literally hanging on to the door frame and crying. I had to be sedated so they could get stuff done, because I was so scared and hated it so much. When I was like 12 or 13, for some reason they stopped sedating me, and I just had to bear it. So yeah, I don't really have the best experiences with going to the dentist.

Also, my little sister was here a few days last week, since school hadn't started yet. We went shopping, she bought most of her own stuff by herself, but I paid half of a book she wanted, and she paid the rest herself. I used my xmas gift money to buy a new vacuum cleaner and another squishmallow. I now have two cows, a snake and a bearded dragon and I love them. I have all my plushies in my bookshelf, because I don't want them in my bed, I just hug them when I feel sad or something. I have the dog plushie I got the day I was born, but I'm really sad that I can't remember its name anymore. It's really worn and old, but I'm never letting it go again. (My ex-stepmom took talked me into putting it into a "memory box" when I was like 13 years old, and then she put the box in the attic, and I wasn't allowed to touch it. She was a bitch...) Anyway, I need to ask my mom and dad what the name of the dog plushie is, because they might remember.

I should probably go to sleep soon, I'm starting to ramble, but on the other hand it's kinda fun. I'm kinda dreading school starting again in like two weeks. I don't have many default courses this spring, but I need to take a couple more to keep up with what I need to do to keep my benefits. I've been sleeping a lot lately, and I'm tired all the time. Idk if that's because I've been sleeping too much or because I'm still tired from being at my mom's place for almost a month and being sick for over two weeks.

Anyway, I wish you all a good night/day/morning and remember to stay hydrated. Also please, please, please, be smarter than me and go to the dentist if you can and take care of your teeth!

[lolwatermelons]

Valdangelo Singing (fluff wip)

(T rated - the full piece is too short to post to the archive imo so i wanted to leave a slice of it somewhere)

Nico finally lets out a breath and sinks onto his butt by a series of bushes. Leo plops down right across from him and places his ankles right between Nico’s own. They share a tender smile before they look up at the splattering of stars across the unpolluted sky.

“We’re soaring, flying, there’s not a star in Heaven that we can’t reach—”

“Leo," Nico warns, though he’s fighting a smile.

Leo laughs and reaches out for both of Nico’s hands. He accepts and the sweet feeling of warmth courses through their bones. It’s nice because the chill of the evening is starting to make their teeth chatter.

“Okay, what about this?” at this point, Leo takes off his outermost layer and drapes it over a shivering Nico, who blushes but accepts.

“Use the sleeves of my sweater, let's have an adventure, head in the clouds but my gravity centered, touch my neck and I'll touch yours, you in those little high-waisted shorts!"

“LEO!” Nico snaps. His face is bright red and Leo can tell even in the darkness.

Leo puts his hands up and giggles. He knows his boyfriend is just shy, and he clears his throat while he sings, “Okay okay: I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust—”

Nico sighs even though he adds, “I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I will never rust…”

“If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot!” Leo finishes with jazz hands.

Nico doesn’t fight the hands that come near him and he lets out involuntary cries as Leo dives and starts to tickle him mercilessly. They’re a squirming, laughing mess on the red stone, and with the midnight blue above them, it’s more than Nico could’ve ever asked for.

[ekkoh]

15 Questions and 15 Mutuals

literally LOSING MY MIND that i was tagged in this 😭 thank you @outer-edges

Were you named after anyone?

no, but my older brother told me i was named after a vacuum cleaner brand and i believed that for a couple years. 💀

When was the last time you cried?

today!! i cried over the end of nimona. one thing you should know about me is that children’s animated movies are constantly destroying me. (see: puss in boots 2, both spiderverse movies, the sea beast, fantastic mr. fox, i can keep going—)

Do you have kids?

nope! no nieces or nephews either. idk what i’m gonna do when i become an aunt bc i don’t know how to talk to kids. 😭 i feel like kristen stewart in that snl duolingo for kids sketch.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

not online but i feel like A LOT in person. maybe too much.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

this is weird but… hair color? where i live, natural brunettes are dwindling because everyone’s dying their hair blonde. 😭 whenever i meet a natural brunette in the wild i always feel an instant kinship. we are bonded for life. we can never dye our hair.

What's your eye color?

blue!! i’m irrationally proud of it because my entire family has brown eyes. i’m cool. i’m ~different.~

Scary movies or happy endings?

HAPPY ENDINGS!!!! this is because i don’t watch scary movies, ever. any movie that is slightly “scary” is off-limits bc i am a huge coward. i can’t even watch the nightmare before christmas.💀

Any special talents?

i’m really good at hitting all the best rides at disneyland without waiting in lines longer than 15 minutes. it’s an art form that i’ve mastered.

Where were you born?

CALIFORNIA!!!! (california gurls we’re unforgettable)

What are your hobbies?

i love creating incredibly specific playlists for incredibly specific emotions. i collect pins!! one of my prized possessions is a limited edition tangled pin. i also like to write fic, although real ones know i only write it in my head because i’m always disappointed by my skill when i actually type it out. 💀

Have any pets?

an orange cat named winston! not from new girl, i just thought it was a cute name. he is my light and my life, and yes, he is dumb.

What sports did you play/have you played?

i did jazz and hip-hop as a kid, i was a cheerleader (backspot) for one year lol, and i played volleyball (middle) for two years. i sucked at everything. i’m not athletic. 😭😭

How tall are you?

my government height is 5’6.5” but i like to tell people 5’7” because it’s a neater number. 💀 my height is actually one thing about me that i love. i’m on the tall side but not super tall, y’know? great for concerts. i can see the stage but i’m not feeling guilty bc i don’t block other people’s views.

Favorite subject in school?

ENGLISH NATION RISE UP!! i was the kind of girl that everyone hated in english class bc i was always commenting in discussions. also, not to brag (i’m bragging) but i always got the highest scores on essays.

Dream job?

this sounds stupid bc i literally worked at a dinosaur museum and then quit because it sucked but. i want to be a museum tour guide because i love teaching people about things i’m obsessed with. not a dinosaur guide though. i hate dinosaurs. (sorry to the dinosaur kids)

no pressure tag @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel (if you’ve already done this i am so sorry don’t look at me i would be so embarrassed)

[jellostories]

AJ the Very Whimsical, Ch. 26: Vacuum-Packed

It was only a quarter to 1:00, and AJ had already gotten herself neck-deep in trouble. It was all thanks to her mother's vacuum cleaner, a phone call, disobedience, and poor impulse control.

For context: Like everything else they owned, the Arquettes' vacuum cleaner was old, worn down, and definitely from a thrift store. Twist often joked that it had probably been a decent vacuum in a previous life, and there was a 97% chance she wasn't wrong. The hose had several holes covered with swan tape, one of the wheels on the tank had fallen off, and several stickers spelling out the manufacturer's name had peeled off. Instead of "STUCKMANN APPLIANCES," it read "S _ UCK ____ APPL ____ ES." To top it off, it made a weird wheezing noise whenever it sucked up anything larger than a cockroach.

Finally, one cloudy August morning, Blaze decided she'd had enough of this Stuckmann Dust Army Tank. She announced she was going to write the manufacturer a strongly worded letter and read it live over the headphone. Blaze marched into her bedroom, where the computer was, snickering like a teenage prankster. AJ was left in the TV room with the offending vacuum, which she eyed curiously. For some reason, Blaze hadn't put vacuuming on AJ's chore list. She watered the plants on Mondays, dumped the trash on Tuesdays, cleaned the bathroom on Wednesdays, dusted the furniture on Thursdays, did the dishes on Fridays, and vacuumed the house on Never-days. Blaze's reason? "It's too dangerous, Crumpet." This left AJ with a burning desire to at least hold the vacuum, just to see what it was like. Even when AJ made a small mess on the floor, Blaze still refused to let her use the Dust Tank. But now that Blaze was distracted, AJ thought with a sneaky smirk, maybe it was time to take this patched-up vacuum for a spin.

The silly girl snuck towards the Dust Tank, glancing at the staircase, worried that Blaze would burst out of her bedroom and come storming back into the TV room. Thankfully, Blaze didn't, and AJ reached the Tank. She flipped the switch, making it roar (and wheeze) to life, sucking up every dust particle in the area.

"Let's see," AJ scoffed, feeling a bit cocky, "this thing works just like a regular vacuum! What was Mommy so worried about?"

Just then, the Dust Tank coughed and began sucking things up with greater ferocity. It gobbled up the crayons AJ had left on the coffee table, a few videotapes from the cabinet, some socks Blaze had dropped in front of the laundry room door, logs from the firewood rack – all of it went straight into the vacuum's hose and tank, which grew accordingly.

"Sacrebleu!" AJ cried. "How big is this thing!?"

Panic tightened its grip around AJ's throat with every item the Dust Tank sucked up. She had to do something!

AJ leaned over the vacuum's hose and squinted at the power switch. There were four modes, which she read as: "FFO," "WOL," "HGIH," and "REPUS HGIH". Figuring she'd just wing it, AJ flipped the switch from WOL to REPUS HGIH. The vacuum's power increased tenfold, and it began sucking up the furniture. First, it took the grandfather clock Blaze had inherited from her great-great-grandparents, then the coffee table, the shoebox in the entryway, and finally, it turned its hose on AJ.

“Oh, merde," AJ thought worriedly as the vacuum began sucking her up, head-first. "There go my dreams of becoming a famous fashion designer and finally kissing a boy…"

~~~~

A few minutes later, Blaze exited her bedroom and walked down the staircase, a smug look on her face and three pages of angry words in her hands. Haha, oui! As soon as she was done reading this to customer service, Stuckmann Appliances would taste the full wrath of Angel "Blaze" Arquette, Sr.! But first, she had to experience a bit of that wrath herself. As soon as her feet touched the TV room, the Dust Tank exploded with a mighty BOOM, sending everything it had sucked up flying across the room in a dusty heap. AJ landed on top of her mother, dazed, exhausted, and covered in dust, but otherwise fine. Normally, Blaze would've been glad to see her daughter unharmed, but this time, she looked rather cross.

"Oh, uh, hi, Mommy!" AJ said nervously, noticing her mother's expression. "I was just, uh, you know – dusting out the riffraff!" she chuckled weakly.

Blaze's emerald-green eyes narrowed into slits. "Did you seriously think that lame pun was going to get you out of trouble?"

AJ sighed. "Oui, it really did suck, didn't it?"

Blaze quickly hid a chuckle.

[dearkorrafrommom]

Czech Republic and our baby big girl

We are on our yearly trip with you, and you have been so much fun, as usual. Every time I say "you're my baby," you say, "I'm a baby big girl," hence the title.

We have been mostly in Prague, but right now we are in the cutest town EVER, called Cresky Kromlov. It is so quintessentially Europe, with the cobblestone streets and beautiful castles and churches and bridges. It's FREEZING but you are sooooo dang cute in winter clothes.

We have not been doing much "kid stuff" but you have been enjoying riding on the subway and trains, and lots of restaurants have kid toys in them, luckily. But I've really been amazed at how you can entertain yourself anywhere. You have this card that we got from one of the airline attendants on the way here. You've been carrying it around, and when the train attendant comes to check everyone's tickets, you give him your little card and they stamp it. It's the cutest thing and makes me realize the magic of childhood - to you, everything is exciting. Sometimes when we are just hanging out, not doing anything, you get the card and you point to the words on it and say things like, "First you go here to the train station and then you have to go to the other side and then..." and you go on and on. It's just a simple card but you have had so much fun with it. And I LOVE when you start talking. You have a wild imagination and can talk without stopping for a long time - I think you have probably talked for about 6 minutes without stopping before. :)

One thing you did tonight in the hotel (which has NOTHING for you to play with) is you moved the coffee table closer to the bed so you could easily jump on the bed.

This morning at breakfast, (a coffee shop called Kollectiv), there was a basket of toys and I saw you holding a stuffed snowman like a baby.

Before we left home, you were really into playing "dentist." So one day, I just laid down for about 20 minutes while you worked on my teeth with random tools like the spatula and my headphones. :)

You are also constantly saying funny things and you have an amazing brain for details and spaces. For example, a 4 year old boy lives in the place we are staying in (home exchange), and you saw that he had kinetic sand in his room. You wanted to play with it, so I said, "Ok but you can't get it all over the floor." You said, "Like we do at home?" And I said, "Yes, because I don't know where their vacuum cleaner is." And you said, "Oh it's right there, Mommy." And you pointed to the corner of the room and you were absolutely right.

You are MESMERIZED by these ceramic Christmas villages they have everywhere - usually it has something moving, like people ice skating or Santa "flying" through the air. You can watch them for so long. I think your attention span is so good. Maybe because we haven't let you watch a lot of tv? I don't know, but I feel like you are very smart already. I hope we are doing a good job of being your parents. Sometimes I think I give you whatever you want too much. Like tonight, you cried for me to take a bath with you so I did. I don't know, maybe that is bad, (lots of people think it is), but I hope you continue to be a sweet and kind person who understands she can't always get what she wants. I feel like you're really really well-behaved compared to other kids your age. But I also know that being well-behaved isn't the most important thing. Sometimes, it's necessary to misbehave. :)

[sciencestyled]

Under the Microscope: Inside the Ridiculous, Bizarre, and Downright Insane Hidden Lives of Everyday Stuff

Alright, listen up, you glazed-eyed collection of academic zombies! Today, we’re going where no sane person has dared to go—into the minds of mundane objects. That's right. Under my trusty microscope, I’m cracking open the bizarre, microscopic underbelly of things you’d never expect to have so much going on. You think a grain of sand is just, you know, a grain of sand? WRONG. That grain is the molecular Coachella of unimaginable chaos. Every single speck is a micro-universe of scandal, drama, and more than a few horror stories that’ll make you look at the world with an entirely different brand of existential dread.

Now, before you roll your eyes back into your cerebral cortex, let me warn you. I know this sounds boring. But buckle up because what I’m about to show you is nothing less than an HBO drama unfolding on the head of a pin. And I mean the really juicy kind of HBO drama, not one of those "two noble houses vie for power" snoozefests. I’m talking “real-life soap opera meets horror flick meets Reddit conspiracy theory.” It's all happening at the microscopic level, and the only ticket to the show is your undivided, albeit mildly skeptical, attention.

Now, look at your hand. No, really, look at it. See that skin? Yeah, well, newsflash—your epidermis is teeming with microscopic beings you couldn’t see with even the most intense Instagram filter. Little critters. Some that make a Kardashian family feud look like an afternoon tea. You’re essentially a walking reality show, a real-life “Keeping Up with the Keratinocytes,” except with far more biochemistry and way less photogenic appeal. Those cells are slapping each other around, regenerating like it’s their job (because, spoiler, it is), and they do it all while making your skin feel all smooth and flawless—or, you know, just kind of oily and blotchy if you’re anything like me.

Let's zoom in on that blade of grass you stepped on last week in that forgettable patch of green outside the library. You probably thought it was just some leaf, minding its own business, right? WRONG AGAIN. Blades of grass are essentially the seedy underworld of the plant kingdom. These guys are dealing in molecular weapons-grade photosynthesis. They’re armed with chlorophyll and they know exactly how to use it, sucking in sunlight and carbon dioxide like some sort of mini vacuum cleaner that’s operating on a level more advanced than your average high school science teacher can wrap their heads around. This photosynthesis stuff is why grass grows back every time you trample it, which is basically the plant equivalent of that one person who insists on getting back together with their toxic ex every other weekend. “This time it’ll be different!” cries the grass blade, oblivious to the foot that’s already poised to stomp it into oblivion again.

Alright, so how are we supposed to peep into these wild microcosmic scenes? Enter the microscope. Yes, the unsung hero of science education. That clunky, ancient-looking apparatus your high school lab partner kept banging into like an oblivious pigeon. This tool is basically like having your very own cinematic lens, and it’s the only way to peel back the visible world and see the raw, unfiltered microscopic drama going on in everything from your pet’s fur to the dusty corners of your backpack. Without microscopes, we’d be living in some nightmarish oblivion, blissfully unaware of the billions of bacteria that just hang out, throw parties, and generally make a mess of things all over our belongings.

But don’t get sentimental, folks. We’re not here for a heartwarming “microscopes help us learn” tale. Oh no. We’re here for SCIENCE—Science, with a capital S, the kind that makes you question why you ever thought biology was tame. Let’s take dust, for example. Microscopic dust mites are the original freeloaders, literally crashing the parties that are your bedsheets. These miniature freeloaders are so small they’re practically invisible, but their lifestyle would make any basement-dwelling, Mountain Dew-drinking gamer blush. They’re feasting on dead skin, reproducing faster than a viral TikTok trend, and they don’t pay a single cent in rent. Forget microscopic marvels; we’re talking microscopic lawlessness. They’re organized chaos on a level that would make most punk rockers look like members of a monastery.

Then there’s the hidden social network of grains of sand, each one intricately designed by nature as a unique, tiny fortress. Every granule is like a lonely little piece of geological art, shaped by eons of erosion, water, and time. But hold on, don’t romanticize it too much—these grains of sand are actually like the cast of an awkward middle school drama club, stuck together, shuffling around, trying not to touch each other too much. If you think sand is peaceful, you’ve obviously never zoomed in to the molecular level where grains jostle for position like a YouTube comment section after a controversial makeup tutorial.

And then we have the molecular shenanigans happening inside something as mundane as a drop of water. Under a microscope, that droplet transforms into an Olympic stadium packed with microbes, each competing for survival. You've got paramecia darting around like they're late for a meeting, amoebas engulfing their prey with a terrifying casualness, and the odd tardigrade—those creepy, eight-legged creatures that look like they’ve been cast as the villain in a low-budget sci-fi movie. These little critters aren’t just swimming around, minding their own business; they’re playing out a microscopic Hunger Games, fighting over resources, slashing at each other, sometimes even reproducing with what can only be described as microscopic enthusiasm.

And this, my friends, is where our so-called "science education" gets it wrong. Textbooks paint such a polite, “See Dick Run” picture of these organisms. But the truth is, microorganisms are out there living life in a way that would put any "Real Housewives" cast member to shame. This is gritty, no-holds-barred reality, and it’s happening on a scale so tiny, you’d never know it was there without a microscope.

Now, here’s where things get really fun. We’ve talked about what’s happening in skin cells, grass, dust, sand, and water, but how about a nice, friendly peek into your lunch? Ever wondered what’s REALLY going on in that hastily made sandwich you scarfed down on the way to class? Under the microscope, your average bread crumb transforms into a kind of microbial Woodstock. It’s teeming with yeast cells, sugar granules, and the occasional rogue spore. They're all hanging out, vibing together in a way that defies logic and probably every health code imaginable. When you eat that sandwich, you’re basically inviting an entire ecosystem to crash at your place—and they’re the worst kind of guests. No respect for personal space, no awareness of hygiene, and don’t even get me started on their “contributions” to the digestive process.

So, the next time you’re handed a microscope and a sample slide in the lab, don’t groan. Remember that you’re peering into a hidden world, like you’re watching “Keeping Up with the Bacteria” or “Real Microorganisms of Silicon Valley.” It's pure madness in there. Every squiggle, every speck, every grain—it’s all part of a drama so intricate it makes Shakespeare look like a two-bit soap opera writer. Every day, we walk around blissfully unaware that our stuff is ALIVE—well, kind of.

In conclusion—if I have to spell it out for you—microscopes are the window into a madness so intricate it’d make your average Marvel plot twist look like a nursery rhyme. They’re the gadgets that reveal a mess of epic proportions happening all around us. Every speck, every cell, every microscopic beastie is part of an endless cascade of tiny, barely-there catastrophes that somehow make up our world. So next time you casually brush some dust off your sleeve, remember: you’re wiping away entire civilizations, epic battles, tragic romances, and god knows what else. And that, my undergrad compadres, is the kind of science education that’ll really keep you up at night.

[amnestria-the-elf]

Back to Yesterday, Chapter 2: Pacemaker

Linda's back at it, folks! Today she and Gale are chilling at camp when an unexpected arrival shows up. Linda cleans everything and offers some helpful advice to Gale. Excerpt below. Read the whole thing on AO3.

*~~~*

She worked her way around the campsite, eyeing each of her companions’ tents critically, trying to determine where to start. The pale one’s tent was mostly neat and orderly, though it looked like he’d spilled some wine the night before. Linda dragged a fingertip over the stain; damn, it had already dried. She frowned. Without any club soda and baking powder the stain would never come out now. Well, nothing for it. She made a mental note to remind the pale one to be more careful in the future.

Her eyes traveled over to Lae’zel’s tent and her nose wrinkled in disgust. A pile of dirty rags lay haphazardly on the ground, that disgusting replica of a squid-person stood prominently in front, and her bedroll lay messily unmade. Linda nodded. This would be the perfect project for the day.

“Gale, can you set some water on to boil? A lot of it,” Linda asked.

Gale looked up from his book, his eyes a bit unfocused. “Hmm?”

“Can you boil a lot of water for me?” Linda repeated, gesturing towards the pile of nasty rags. “This is an infection waiting to happen.”

“Oh,” Gale said, blinking, “Of course.” He waved a hand to fill the cauldron with water and light the fire underneath. 

While she waited for the water to boil, she studied the rest of the area around Lae’zel’s tent. The animal skins were acceptable enough, if a bit dusty. Without a broom or vacuum she resorted to beating them to get the dust out. She coughed at the cloud of dust, but it was worth it as she arranged them back on the ground, visibly cleaner than they were before. She ducked into Lae’zel’s tent and made up the bedroll, then stood back to admire the overall effect. She frowned as her eyes traveled over the positively awful taxidermied heads that Lae’zel kept proudly on display, but there was no accounting for taste. At least Lae’zel could enjoy a clean living space.

She gathered up the nasty rags and dumped them in the boiling water. She poked them in with a stick and sat down to wait. Gale was watching her with a bemused expression.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you always clean people’s tents without their permission?”

Linda shrugged. “I like to be useful. Besides, you know what they say: clean house, clean mind. I know this isn’t a house, but we should still care for it.”

“That’s– gah!- very pragmatic of you,” Gale said with a strained voice, and winced as he pressed his hand against his chest.

“Gale, are you all right?!” Linda exclaimed, reaching a hand out to him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s– ah– nothing to– worry yourself about,” he replied, gasping for breath and doubling over.

“Gale, sit down!” she cried, and grabbed him by the arm and practically threw him down on the ground. She stood over him and pushed his shoulders back against the log, then turned, wildly scanning the campsite for what she needed.

She bustled over to Wyll’s tent. He had neatly rolled up his bedroll this morning, and she grabbed it and hurried back to Gale. 

“Bend your knees,” she commanded. He complied, and she shoved the bedroll underneath them. “Now relax, and try to breathe.” She wrung her hands, feeling helpless. “Damnit, if only I had my aspirin…”

Gale was breathing deeply, looking less distressed now. He cocked his head slightly as he looked up at her. “What is aspirin?”

“For your heart attack,” Linda replied matter-of-factly. “Prevents irreversible heart damage.”

He shook his head. “I’m not having a heart attack.”

“Of course you are. I know the signs when I see them. Chest pain, shortness of breath, ashen skin. Classic. We just need to keep you comfortable and calm until help arrives.” As the words left her mouth, Linda’s blood ran cold as she realized no help was coming. There were no first responders to call here, and even if there were, where would she tell them to go? Down by the river?

Keep reading on AO3.