#crusty dog pictured bottom

[ginger-o-snap]

date night ft: my girlfriend and my moms crusty dog

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born ��

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays from my family to yours!! 🤍🎄

It’s Billy’s first Harrington Christmas with Steve’s family, and honestly? He doesn’t know what to think.

Because his own broken ‘family’ had consisted of him and his father for years, and Neil would get him one shitty gift every December 25th and then they'd going out to eat at some greasy diner together in the name of ‘Christmas’.

And once Max and Susan had entered the picture, things had changed a bit. Susan cooked them all a meal on the 25th. There were more presents. There was a fully decorated tree in the living room. Stockings.

And with that first Hargrove-Mayfield Christmas, Billy hadn’t realized just how much mothers made Christmas.

He could remember the last Christmas he had with his mother. Vaguely. He can vividly remember the warmth of it, the glittering gold of nostalgia sparkling in her eyes in front of the tree. She had gifted him a bike that year and he’d ridden it until he outgrew it.

Then, he had pawned it for money towards his car. He’d given a lot of his belongings towards his Camaro.

But — shitty Christmases aside, this is new. Mrs. Harrington is all about Christmas, decorating her house from top to bottom with wreaths and holly and mistletoe. She’d even put one just outside Steve’s room and gave them a playful smile once they’d realized.

Now, it’s Christmas Eve and six o’clock has just rolled around, so Mrs. H hands out a set of matching pyjamas to her husband, son, and Billy. Even Coco, the white crusty family dog, has a little outfit on that she seems happy to wear — like she’s used to it.

"You know the drill, put them on and come back down for pictures!" Mrs. H tells the three of them, her smile wide.

Billy kinda wants to die.

But, he holds the red, black, and green checkered plaid pyjamas in his free hand while the other clutches at his third glass of spiked eggnog — just in time for Steve to take it from him to set down, giving him a look with wide eyes and lifted brows that says 'just go with it'.

And Billy scrunches his face like 'do I have to?'

But, he follows his boyfriend upstairs, anyway, to change into the pyjamas like Mrs. H has requested.

And, to be fair, they're soft as hell and maybe the most comfortable thing Billy has ever put on his body. When he turns to look at Steve, he sees his boyfriend wearing the exact same thing and it makes them both snort with laughter.

"Every year?" Billy asks as Steve comes over, wrapping his arms around him.

"Every," Steve kisses his cheek, "Single," another kiss to the other side, "Year." A kiss to his mouth, gentle and soft.

It's gaudy but it's cute. Maybe.

Quietly, Steve whispers into the small space between their mouths, "Thank you, for putting up with all of this," he means the Harrington Christmas traditions, "I know it's...a lot, but...it's means a lot to me that you go along with it."

Billy stares into those dark eyes for a moment, flicking back and forth between them before he half-shrugs with a smile and mutters, "It's more than I've ever had."

Steve's face drops a little, like he's hurt for Billy, and he knows it's true — Billy's never had matching pyjamas with his family, he's never had homemade eggnog with Mr. Harrington's finest rum, he's never decorated a gingerbread house, he's never had a Christmas with so much love.

"If you tell my mom that," Steve whispers with a small smile, tilting his head, "She'll never let you spend another Christmas anywhere else."

And, honestly? That doesn’t sound too bad.

❄️

Once they’re back downstairs, Mrs. H has her fancy camera set up in front of the tree and is getting everyone in place on the floor, scooping up Coco into her arms as she exclaims, “Say ‘Merry Christmas!’”

A low chorus of ‘Merry Christmas’ is said and Billy manages a smile as the camera flashes. When Mrs. H goes to set up another shot, he feels Steve’s hand find his, warm and reassuring as Billy turns his head to look at him and catches the smile his boyfriend has just for him.

He returns the soft smile, feeling his tense shoulders relax a little more, easing into the moment as Steve’s mother rushes back to her spot beside her husband.

As Billy focuses on the camera again, he feels Steve’s hand slide across his back and to his side, gently digging his fingertips into it — just enough for it to tickle and make him grin as his hand shoots to Steve’s, gripping it as his boyfriend laughs and the camera goes off, catching them both with wide grins.

Immediately, Billy shoots a glare at his pretty boy, whose grin hasn’t faltered at all. It’s maybe even grown a bit.

“You little shit,” Billy mumbles, glowering somewhat playfully.

“Hope that one makes it to the Christmas card,” Steve hums with a smirk.

Billy rolls his eyes and stands as everyone else does, happily taking up Mr. H’s offer of another cup of spiked eggnog.

❄️

The picture doesn’t make the Harrington Christmas card, as it was already decided (although Mrs. H does want him in the one next year), but Billy does receive a copy of the picture once it’s printed.

He folds it and keeps it hidden in his bedside table, already looking forward to next December.

[happysparklingshadows]

𝚃𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ('𝟿𝟼)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

♡ Taissa is a Capricorn Sun and Leo Rising. (Taissa gives off Leo dominant in her natal chart vibes)  

♡ Taissa’s favorite color has always been Red. She liked how bold it always looked bold in every instance that it appeared. The bottom of shoes, the lining of lips, or the splitters on surfaces. 

♡ Taissa, like Shauna, is a big dog person. She likes any kind of dog is her kind of dog. Taissa gives off that she likes lap dogs a lot for the warmth they give off. I see her at her desk with her dog on her lap, sleeping. It helps push her forward with her work so she doesn’t move from her seat and doesn’t wake them up. She always understood animals better than people and loved feeling loved by an animal. Taissa grew up with a crusty white dog, lol.   

Taissa's spirit animal is the Wolf

♡ Taissa is a introvert, and she is a self-proclaimed loner. Taissa doesn’t like making friends. Throughout her elementary/middle school years, she had superficial friends and never really branched out for reassurance from others. 

♡ Taissa’s favorite food worldwide is her paternal grandmother’s Black forest cake. She has it every Christmas and demands it for her birthday every year; she even gets annoyed when asked because what else would she have.   

♡ Taissa is Autistic Coded! Because she doesn’t really understand other people much, She is a loner, very focused on academics. She has very strict internal rules that she expects everyone else to follow. A good example is how she talks about the supernatural and shuts it down because it is a rule for her.

♡ Her childhood was the picture-perfect 1980s American dream idea. A white picket fence with both parents working in high-paying career jobs, with three kids and a white dog. Taissa never had to worry about her needs or even her wants; she got whatever she wanted if she worked hard for it, like with her grades or chores. Her parents loved her but really pushed her hard to be the best she could be, not really giving her room to ever fail. Taissa’s only problem growing up was that she slept-walked into the garden and out of the house many times and never got a normal sleep schedule. 

♡ Taissa’s sex drive is kinda neutral, and she gives off the energy that when it happens, it happens. Taissa goes through periods of not wanting to be intimate and never wanting you to be away from her skin. She is a person whose mood changes pretty quickly,  it is the same with her sex drive. 

♡ Taissa’s vice is caffeine. Taissa seems like someone who lives off of Coffee and Lattes to keep her going. Taissa drinks them to keep herself sharp and awake, but she overuses them sometimes. She will sleep crash and fuck up her sleeping schedule. 

♡ ⚠️Unpopular opinion⚠️ Taissa is a fucking Bottom! 

𝙳𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙰𝚄s/��𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎s

♡ Royalty AU! Taissa would be the Hand of the King or a part of the King’s Council. She is so ambitious and likes to be a proactive member. Whatever Community she is in,  I think she would have a hand in the major events in a fantasy setting.  

♡ Delinquent AU! 90s hacker. Taissa falsifies records,  changes the attendance of students who pay her,  changes grades,  and even dabbles in falsifying negative drug tests. She does it for money to get things on the side,  she doesn't need the money, it's more for the thrill of messing with certified documents.  Taissa gives the Vibes of someone who likes to conform to Authority but then likes to mess with authority behind their back in their own space,  like The Golden Child prankster. Taissa, I think, would never get caught with it, lol. 

♡ Supernatural AU! Werewolf. The sleepwalking gives werewolf vibes and she changes only at nightfall. Other Taissa just seems to give that off. Taissa has a “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” thing going. 

♡ Superhero/Marvel AU! Capitan America because they share very strong morals and a strong responsibility to themselves. Taissa and Capitan America also share a longing for their first loves and them going back to them after decades of being apart. 

♡ College AU! Criminal Law Major and would be working her ass off her for a law degree. She would be top of her class, but she isn’t a part of any clubs or go to any parties at all. She doesn’t make a joke out of her education, and she is constantly burnt out.

𝙿𝚛𝚎-𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

♡ You were the one to Initiate a relationship with Taissa. Although Taissa is very smart and headstrong, she is not smart with her words or vibes. She doesn’t know how to flirt and is so afraid of rejection that she can’t pull herself to initiate a relationship. 

♡ Taissa likes to ride her bike around town all the time. Her biggest hobby is riding her bike when she isn’t studying and hanging out with you. She likes to go out to a store across town to get herself snacks and stuff to return to her comfortable learning cave. She also likes watching movies to turn her brain off and take in content without effort. 

♡ Taissa likes to have dates in the house and just cuddle dates. She likes to watch a show together, cuddle, and eat some takeout. Taissa really doesn’t like going out all the time. 

♡ Taissa’s the more avoidant partner in your relationship, but that was given when you got together with her. Taissa doesn’t try to be, but she is just so hyper-independent that she has a hard time figuring out how to add you to her life without changing her life. Still, you, of course, change her life. As she falls increasingly in love with you over the months you are together, she realizes it was a fool’s errand when the change in her life would be nothing but good.

𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

♡ Over time, Taissa, in the wilderness, is more open and public about her relationship. She is scared people will judge and will make things even harder in the wilderness. Taissa would openly call you her wife to other people, and she loves to talk about you to the others. 

♡ Other Taissa is fucking feral for you for some unknown reason. She literally wakes up in the early morning with dirt around her mouth, and she literally fucks you as you sleep. Then Taissa wakes up thinking you are fucking her. It’s surprisingly hot! 

♡ Taissa’s biggest lesson she learned in the wilderness was to rely on her and to get emotional reassurance from other people. She has to lean on her friends for her survival, and she leans on you for her mental sanity. She doesn’t trust herself with her own interpretation of reality, and she has always felt like she needs to stay logical, but she can’t when cabin fever sets in. 

♡ Taissa makes little wooden carvings like Javi; they bond together over it by quietly making their own little animals. Taissa obviously makes your favorite animal, but she likes to carve little wolves in her free time to work off her anxiety. 

 ♡ Taissa makes you sleep on top of her in fear of the other Taissa’s walking. You stop it some nights, and Other Tai pulls you with her to odd parts of the woods on other nights.

Vanessa Headcanons ✿  Shauna Headcanons ✿

[marybirch87]

Warm up in a greenhouse.

When we lived in Wisconsin I was spoiled with a fabulous garden center that was open year round very close by. On a dreary winter day when I longing for spring I could go roam up and down the aisles and drool over their plants, watch the fish in the koi pond. It was so wonderfully warm and humid in there, like therapy it washed away the winter blues just enough to get me through another week. Where we live in Minnesota I have to drive much further for this experience. My choice place, though 30-40 minutes or so from me, is Green Valley Garden Center in Anoka. I had not been since November, so when my 35th birthday came at the end of March, and it was still wintery outside, I dragged my whole family up there for some much needed spring-piration. I can be sure I leave GVGC with ideas galore. I always take pictures! Of course, I had to share so I could bring y’all along with me... How great is the repetition here? I love the birdhouses as planters, too. Stepping back for a wider shot you can see how they creative they are! Look at all the wonderfully different containers at work here- metal buckets, concrete, and terra cotta- with cottagey white metal plant stands. Harmoniously. PS. Those wreaths are bird seed! This cactus display makes me want to buy multiples of the same kind and stagger them just like this-in what looks like a rain gutter propped up by bird bark, and an old window: Just beside this rain gutter was an even larger repetitive display of cacti I loved; I also can’t get enough of the concrete looking planter they cacti are in: Just a few feet away I was smitten with this door and the perfectly placed branch in front it. How great is the funnel planter begging for a crazy cactus like dog tail or rats tail? I also see a pallet used here, and the amazing old chair: Step back and you see an amazing container filled with succulents and a great old chair turned container holder. Gimme more! A closer look at the chair: This funnel was planted with a dripping pea vine and more. Love it! Specifically I love the mix of metals here- bronzey, chrome-silvery, galvanized all working together with pallet wood, birch bark, moss. If I’m going to go home and try and emulate something, I always make sure to look at the details. I loved, loved, loved this little gem: see how they used the big birch log to make the table’s feet- very informally filling the gap with a chunk of moss? Genious. I can do that. I think the wall even looks like the inside of my garage door... Here’s another pallet idea I liked. They affixed a moss basket right to it. I like this “hanging” free in the middle of the air like this- would look cool hanging from a tree, or in between the posts of a gazebo for privacy. And while we’re on the topic of vertical gardening, this succulent wall hanging is too perfect. The little piece of fungi at the bottom is THE BEST. It was warm enough inside the green house to not mind getting splashed by this fountain. I love how the hanging baskets encircle it at just the right height. In a perfect world, I would have this fountain in my front yard, and hang little containers (don’t these resemble broken walnuts?!?) from the tree above it. Sometimes its the details I take pictures of. This huge wreath makes such a great statement- I have a wreath similar to this, and have never figured out to incorporate it into my garden. I bought years ago when our old house was large enough to hang it as a Christmas wreath swathed in white lights at the roof line. Now I’m thinking it belongs dangling above a container garden somewhere. My thoughts also wandered back to a huge piece of farm equipment-the same shape- I passed on last year at a yard sale- it would make an profound statement like this, placed just right in the garden to frame something... I kept telling myself I’d have to “do” something with it, when in reality just positioning it right as a frame would have been great. My garden color of choice has always been blue, so I was a total sucker for these hanging pots, the blue screen above (with the whimsical cat perfectly placed!!), cool blue cabinet, and those crocks on the floor--- they have blue birds on them! Moving on... I love so much about this russet hued area of the garden. I love how the earth tones make the green pop. The owls are awesome. The rooster in the container surrounded by the fresh green makes me want to pull all my philodendrons outside into the shade and place them around my garden statuary. I also like the lanterns hanging, and the wire orb candle holders. I sure did squeak out loud when I saw this old tub mounted on the wall of old wood. Don’t have a barn door or wall to create this look? Make a faux barn wall! Yes! And while you’re at it, mount that rusty crusty old galvanized tub on it. Oh, and those beautiful blue hanging pots come in this mushroom color, too. I brought home one of those birds nests ferns. This may have been my favorite thing there that day. This old huge bath tub? Who would have thought to put to two dog statues in it, and surround them with succulents? I love it! I had to take this picture to remind myself to put my rabbits foot ferns in similar hanging baskets. While at Menards this spring I saw some moss covered hanging baskets I loved, and this is the perfect plant for them. I always love the premade succulent arrangements they have, too. This is just one of the tables full of succulents... Here is my bounty for the day- I already had the containers, so the plants are what I brought home: Hope you enjoyed coming to garden center with me. Now I’ll be watching the snow fall here... drinking coffee with my sketch book planning for warmer days. Happy gardening!

[onlycags]

Tattoo Aftercare

Word Count: 4,499 Warnings: oral sex (both m/f giving and receiving), vaginal sex, mentions of blood and healing tattoos Note: These are all the things I’ve learned caring for my personal tattoos over the last six years. I’m aware, though, that everyone has different ways to care for their tattoos, though, but the aftercare routine is my own.

- - -

You’d known Çağlar had gotten tattooed but you hadn’t expected to receive a text with a picture of the detailed lion that adorned his back with the caption, ‘Bana yardım et lütfen?’ Help me please? You rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips as you shot back, ‘tabikide’. Of course.

An hour later, you were knocking on Çağlar’s door, a bottle of soap and some lotion in a bag. “Did your artist give you instructions?” You asked as you breezed past him, quickly setting up shop in his bathroom.

“I think so?” Çağlar replied, looking sheepish as he ran a hand through his hair. “I was a bit loopy from the pain and he spoke English way too quickly.” Çağlar couldn’t help giving you a once-over, his eyes gesturing to the art that adorned your body. “I figured I could just ask you later and you would know the answers.”

That got a laugh out of you. “Of course! Don’t know what you’d do without me.” You paused. “Have you taken the bandages off yet?”

Çağlar shook his head. “No. I remember him saying something about keeping the bandages on for at least eight hours, maybe longer.”

You did the mental math, nodding. “Okay, so you’ve got about...five more hours at least?” You continued once Çağlar nodded, “Alright then. It doesn’t make sense for either of us to stay up way past our bedtime just to take the bandages off. You’ll be fine if you sleep in them - I know it’ll be uncomfortable, but just wake me up when you wake up and I’ll be over A-S-A-P, okay?”

“Or...you could stay here?” Çağlar suggested shyly.

“That works,” you mused, thinking it over. “Just so long as you let me borrow something to sleep in.”

“Bitti.” Done.

The two of you ordered some food, settling in on the sofa and putting a movie on while you waited for it to be delivered. When you heard the knock, you jumped up, silencing Çağlar’s protests with just one look. “Teşekkürler,” he murmured gratefully when you handed him his own plate of food. Thank you.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, kissing his cheek.

Halfway through the movie, Çağlar started to get restless, shifting this way and that to try to get comfortable.

“You okay?” You asked, turning your attention to him.

“It’s itchy,” he mumbled, pouting slightly.

“I know.” You tried to hold back a giggle. “Do you want me to take a look at it? If the plastic’s twisted, we can try to take it off…”

Çağlar shook his head. “I’ll be fine - just wanna scratch it.”

“Turn around,” you said, moving so you were facing his back.

“What are you gonna do?” Çağlar asked, looking at you warily over his shoulder. “I thought you said not to scratch.”

“Where does it itch?”

“Here.”

You ran a soothing hand over the area Çağlar had pointed to, pride swelling in your chest as he let out a little sigh of relief. “Better?” You asked once you’d gotten all the spots he’d asked for, happy when he nodded.

***

You woke up the next morning to Çağlar whispering your name and poking you occasionally. The scent of coffee filled your nostrils and you inhaled, smiling to yourself. “Is there enough for me?” You rasped, your voice thick with sleep.

“Of course - and it’s the good kind.” You could hear the smile and pride in Çağlar’s voice. Opening your eyes, you watched him from the sofa as he puttered around the kitchen, grabbing the mug you’d claimed as yours ages ago and pouring the liquid gold into it.

“You’re amazing, thank you,” you praised, wrapping the warm mug around your hands before bringing it to your lips, a low moan escaping as the coffee hit your taste buds.

“I should be the one thanking you,” he said, giving you a smile. “You’re doing me a huge favour by helping me take care of this tattoo.”

“It’s nothing,” you replied, shrugging. “Somebody did the same thing for me when I got a few of mine in hard-to-reach places, so it’s only right that I return the favour.”

When you were done with your first cup, you grabbed a second and met Çağlar in his bathroom. “Alright, let’s see it,” you said, setting your mug down on his bathroom counter. You knew it probably wasn’t the most sanitary idea to take your coffee in the bathroom with you, but you didn’t care - you just wanted to see his new ink.

Çağlar felt a twinge of self-consciousness as he reached for the hem of the t-shirt he’d slept in, but he heard your gasp and saw your awed expression in the mirror and he knew you loved it. “It’s going to be beautiful when it’s all healed,” you whispered, involuntarily reaching out a hand to touch it but recoiling before you did so. “You ready for me to take off the plastic?”

“I guess so,” he said, sucking in a breath to steady his nerves.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” you answered, a teasing lilt to your voice as you put a hand on his shoulder and found the beginning of the bandage.

Slowly but surely, the bandage peeled away, leaving a thin crusty mix of dried blood and ink in its wake. Çağlar hissed a little on the more painful parts and you made sure to slow down. “All done,” you said finally, dropping the plastic in the bin. “You gonna shower or do you want me to wash it?”

“Could you just do it? I feel like it’ll be faster.”

Once more, you took your time, wetting a washcloth and sponging the expanse of his back clean. Çağlar let you know if you were pressing too hard and you tried not to hurt him. “So you’re going to want to just wet this with soap and water at least three times a day, okay?” You said, speaking softly in Turkish to him so he could understand. “Once you’ve done that for three days, then you’ll continue washing it with soap and water for the next eleven-ish days but following it up with lotion.”

“You’re gonna help me with the lotion, though, right?”

“I can, if you’d like. Or I’m sure one of your teammates wouldn’t mind helping - Madders has some experience with tattoo aftercare as well.”

“Yeah, but we both know he’ll tease me, though.”

You laughed. “Of course he would. I’ll do it to spare you the teasing.”

“Thanks.”

Your gaze connected with his in the mirror and you gave him a smile. “Anytime.”

***

For the next two weeks, you practically lived at his place. You saw him before and after work and helped him wash the lion right before bed. It made both of you a little uncomfortable but you quickly adapted - Çağlar would shower in his many-patterned swim shorts while you waited patiently on the opposite side of the shower; then he’d turn his back to you so you could put soap on the tattoo and then he’d go back and wash it off. Once he was out of the shower and no longer wet, he would lay on his stomach while you sat on his bum, pumping lotion into your hand and rubbing it onto his skin. Sometimes, Çağlar would accidentally let out a moan but you tried not to think anything of it, even if it made your stomach dip and a little thrill run down your spine.

“It’s healing nicely,” you said after the first week, noting that Çağlar wasn’t nearly as sensitive as he had been the first few days when you’d started putting lotion on.

“Really?” He asked, his voice muffled with his face buried in the pillows.

“Yes - you know I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”

“I can’t wait to see it when it’s healed.”

“Me, too - the girls won’t be able to keep their hands off you,” you joked, dismounting him.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You rolled your eyes, washing your lotion-covered hands off in the sink. “Whatever. You planning on getting any more?”

“I have a few ideas…”

***

Less than two months later, Çağlar was dragging you with him to go get his chest piece done - two portraits that looked like they had to be painful. “You’re such a masochist,” you chided, laughing as you watched him relax as the artist outlined the piece.

“And you’re not?” He shot back, giving you a look.

“Touché.”

You made conversation with Çağlar and the artist, discussing all your previous artwork and who you’d gotten each piece done by. It was a lot of fun, but you could tell that Çağlar was getting annoyed that all your attention wasn’t on him.

Your suspicions were confirmed on the drive back to his place. “He was flirting with you.” You thought you heard a hint of jealousy in your voice but you brushed it off.

“He was not!” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “And even if he was, he’s definitely not my type.”

“Oh, really?” Çağlar asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips that you didn’t catch. “Interesting.”

“There’s nothing interesting about it! He wasn’t flirting with me, and on the off-chance he was, there’s no way I’d date him or sleep with him.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Are you gonna help me take care of this one or not?”

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Why would I?” He gave you a questioning look. “It’s right on your chest, Çağlar! You’re more than capable of doing this one on your own.”

The car stopped in front of his place, the two of you pausing the argument to get out. “But…” Çağlar pouted, giving you his best puppy-dog pleading face, “but you did so well with the last one!”

“You’ve got hands, and you know the process by now. You’ll be fine.”

“Lütfen? Sana ihtiyacım var.” Please? I need you.

“You bastard,” you whispered, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I know you can’t resist me when I speak Turkish to you.” He grinned at you, raising his eyebrows. “Although, I don’t know why, seeing as you also speak it.”

“Sounds better coming out of your mouth, I guess,” you retorted, your tone losing a bit of its edge as your gaze flickered briefly to his lips.

Çağlar took a step toward you, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. “I could say the same thing about you, except with my tattoos and your hands.”

Your back hit the wall and for a second you thought Çağlar was going to step closer, pin you against the wall and kiss you - but he didn’t, leaving you needier than you’d ever been when it came to your friend.

“Fine,” you hissed once you’d regained composure, “but you so owe me.”

***

“How does it feel?” You asked ten days later, your soapy hands washing his tattoo.

“Not painful anymore - still itchy, though.”

“That’s to be expected.” You rinsed your hands and then washed off the soap with warm water, handing him a towel to dry himself off. “It doesn’t look infected and I think it’s healing nicely.” You reached for the lotion, smiling as he sucked in a breath at the cool feel of the lotion on his skin.

When you were done, you pressed a kiss on his cheek, stepping away. “See you tomorrow.”

You went home, your mind racing as you drove. All of it gave you less-than-friendly thoughts about your friend: the way you could feel his heart beating rapidly under your fingertips; the way his chest rose and fell with every breath; the pulse point on his neck displaying itself prominently. “Fuck, Çağlar,” you cursed, your cunt clenching around nothing as you let your mind wander through various scenarios that ended with sex. “What are you doing to me?”

Luckily, you only had four more days to go.

***

Not even two months later and you were liking Çağlar’s newest private Instagram post showcasing his latest tattoo: a bird on his left side with a few cursive words that you couldn’t read from the post itself.

Smiling to yourself, you took a screenshot of the post and sent it to him with a separate text reading, ‘Let me guess...you’d like me to help you take care of it again?’

His response was instantaneous.

Çağlar: Yes please

***

There was something intimate about helping Çağlar with his tattoo aftercare. You’d first felt it with the lion of course, but had chalked it up to the fact that you spent fifteen minutes a day sitting on his bum while rubbing lotion on his back for eleven days. His chest was different - you could see and feel the way he reacted to your touch, and you couldn’t help thinking back to the day he’d accused the tattoo artist of flirting with you, a hint of jealousy in his voice that you hoped you hadn’t misread. The placement of this tattoo sent you reeling, though, the knowledge that you’d essentially be on your knees rubbing lotion on his body right next to his dick making you wetter than you wanted to be when it came to your friend.

The first few days weren’t bad; you just washed and dried his tattoo, keeping an eye on the ink and how his body reacted to it. Once you got to administering the lotion, things got a bit harder. You had to spend almost twice as much time on your knees, focusing all your attention on the tattoo and not the fact that your face was inches away from his dick. Of course, he had his boxers or athletic shorts on so you never actually saw his dick, but that didn’t stop your mind from working overtime thinking about all the other things you could be doing on your knees.

You teased him a little more each day, gauging his reaction to your touch. Your fingers would ‘accidentally’ brush over the waistband of his shorts, a mumbled, ‘sorry’ leaving your lips as you internally screamed at the breath he sucked in as you did so. Sometimes, you could see him getting hard, a thrill racing through you as you watched him try to tamp down his boner and not let you know it was happening.

“All done,” you said brightly, bracing your hands on his hips to help you stand up. “Just one more day and then you’re free.”

“I’m not sure ‘free’ is what I’d call it, but yes,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on your lips.

“You know, if you want to spend time with me, all you have to do is ask, Çağlar,” you said, your heart racing. “You don’t have to keep getting tattooed just so I’ll come help you out.”

“I know.” His gap-toothed smirk had your stomach dipping. “It’s just more fun this way.”

“Well,” you started, placing a hand on his chest, leaning in and whispering, “if you want me on my knees, all you have to do is ask…”

With that, you flounced out the door, trying not to regret the line you’d just crossed. You thought about it on your drive home, your heartbeat in your ears as you replayed your bold move. The first thing you did when you got home was shed your clothes and sink your vibrator into your dripping cunt, Çağlar’s name on your lips when you came.

The sexual tension was palpable the next morning when you showed up, dropping to your knees in the bathroom as you started to care for his tattoo. You worked quicker than you ever had, giving him a slight smile as you used his bathroom sink for leverage as you stood up, side-stepping him quickly and leaving for work.

“What did you mean?” Çağlar asked the second time you came over on that last day. You were still on your knees, your hand poised to rub lotion on his tattoo.

“What do you mean, ‘what did I mean’?” You asked, looking up at him.

Çağlar looked away, his jaw clenched. He’d been thinking about what you’d said since you said it; he’d even gotten off to the mental image of you on your knees last night, and now with you looking up at him, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I just, uh, was wondering what you meant when you said all I had to do was ask if I wanted you on your knees.”

“Oh.” You started to rub the lotion in, focusing all your attention on the tattoo and not on him. “You can disregard that if it made you uncomfortable - I didn’t mean anything by it, really. It was late and I was tired...plus, I’m probably a little sex-deprived, so you can just chalk it up to that if you’d like.” Your cheeks burned and you hoped a blush wasn’t visible, but nevertheless you ducked your head so you could focus on the tattoo.

Çağlar still hadn’t said anything by the time you stood up and rinsed the lotion off your hands. “Do you still want me back here at bedtime?”

“Yes, please.” Çağlar nodded, running a hand through his hair.

When you returned three hours later, you weren’t sure what to expect. Çağlar hadn’t given you any hints about how he’d felt about your earlier confession, but the little voice in the back of your head told you to prepare just in case. So, while you were wearing the same clothes you’d worn earlier, there was a sexy set of lingerie underneath your jeans and t-shirt this time that enhanced your confidence.

“Is it bad that I’m slightly nostalgic about this?” You asked, chuckling lightly as you started to run the water to wash his tattoo.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m already planning my next tattoo so I can get your help.”

“Çağlar Söyüncü, are you so touch-starved that you just want to get tattoos so I’ll put my hands all over you?” You almost laughed, but you looked up at him and saw his serious expression. “Just as long as you’re getting tattoos of things you actually love.”

“Of course. You’re just an added bonus.”

The way he said it had shivers running down your spine, and you tried to regain your composure as you washed the area with soap. “What if I say no?”

“You won’t,” he said confidently. “You love me too much.”

“True.” You rinsed and dried the tattoo, reaching for the lotion. You lost your balance, your hands going to his hips to steady yourself. Your nose accidentally brushed over the V of his hips and you heard him audibly gasp. “S-Sorry,” you stuttered out, not meeting his gaze.

“It’s okay.” His voice was thick with lust. “Will you look at me please?”

“No, I’m too embarrassed,” you said, pumping lotion into your palm and reaching for his tattoo.

You sucked in a breath when you felt his hand in your hair, the unspoken warning clear. When you looked up at him, you could see the heat in his gaze. “Bunun için özür dileme.” Don’t apologize for that.

You swallowed hard. “O-Okay.” You held his gaze as your hands slid up his thighs, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. You hooked your fingers in the elastic, dragging it down until the material was at his ankles. His cock sprung free and you got distracted, biting down on your bottom lip as you stared at him. “Can I have a taste?” You asked, licking your lips.

“Evet,” he rasped, nodding.

You started slow, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. Your tongue swirled around the tip and Çağlar rewarded you with a moan, your confidence building. His grip in your hair tightened, the pain sending little pricks of pleasure down your spine. You took your time, teasing him just like you’d been teasing him the last few days. Your panties were soaked already and you couldn’t wait for him to find out how wet you’d gotten while sucking him off.

“Siktir!” He cursed, the muscles in his thighs flexing as you licked up his shaft. Fuck!

“I’ve been thinking about this for far too long,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes as you gave him another lick. He groaned as you cupped his balls while you finally took him down your throat.

His length filled you up more than you were anticipating and you found yourself using your other hand to work the part of his shaft that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You gagged on his cock, spurred on by the sounds you elicited from him. He spoke to you in a barely-coherent mix of Turkish and English.

Çağlar couldn’t focus on anything but how good it felt to have your mouth on his cock. He’d cum to similar thoughts of this last night and now that the fantasy was coming true, he thought he was going to lose his mind. There was a part of him that wondered whether or not you’d actually put the lotion on his tattoo, but there was a larger part that didn’t give a fuck about that right now, all thought leaving his brain each time the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat. “Did you - siktir! - did you put, uh, lotion on…”

You could barely hear him, all your attention on his dick and making him feel good. The tip of your nose brushed against his pubic bone as you took almost all of him, the groan and shudder of his body making you wetter.

It was the last dominant move you made, Çağlar taking charge seconds later. Something shifted inside of him, his grip on your hair tightening as he let out another groan. “Fuck, take me deeper, Tatlı cadı. I know you can take me deeper.”

He’d never called you by a pet name before, but his words had the desired effect. Your spit mixed with his precum as you tried to take more of him. His impatience got the better of him, though, and soon he was holding your head in place while he fucked your face. All you could do was take it, looking up at him through your lashes as his hips snapped and his dick filled your mouth.

Just when you thought he was going to cum down your throat, he stopped, pulling you off his dick. You looked up at him in stunned silence, your mouth open.

“Strip,” he commanded, his voice deeper and his accent thicker with lust.

You lifted your t-shirt over your head, your cunt clenching around nothing as you heard Çağlar’s low moan of approval. “Siktir, seksisin tatlı cadı,” he groaned, his gaze fixated on your breasts in your lacy bra. Fuck, you’re sexy, sweet witch.

You stood up, your eyes glued to his as you unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans, sliding them down to reveal your matching panties. Instinctively, you reached behind you to unhook your bra, but Çağlar stopped you. “That’s my job later,” he growled, taking you by the arm and spinning you around so your stomach was pressed against the counter. You let him bend you over, taking the opportunity to watch him in the mirror.

Çağlar studied your body, finally able to put his hands on the curves he’d dreamed about for what seemed like forever. He took it all in - the way you responded to his touch, how your back would arch slightly and you’d whimper; the way your breathing quickened and your fingers gripped and tightened around whatever you could grasp.

“Please,” you begged when Çağlar’s hands brushed over your ass.

“Let me take my time with you,” he chastised, giving your ass a few slaps. You took each of them, the pain heightening all your senses and turning to pleasure.

When he slid your panties down, you let out a breathy whimper when the cool air hit your wet pussy. “Oh, did somebody get wet while sucking my dick?” He teased, slipping his thumb between your slick folds, reveling in the way you responded when he applied pressure to your clit.

“God, yes,” you stuttered, your eyelids fluttering closed. He slid a finger into your cunt and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck, Çağlar - just fuck me already!”

“I don’t think so,” he taunted, his gaze connecting with yours in the mirror. “Gonna tease you like you’ve been teasing me.” Your pussy spasmed around his finger at his words and you watched him chuckle. He slid the finger out, his gaze heavy-lidded as he brought it to his lips to taste you. “Nefis.” Yummy. Çağlar trailed kisses down your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Your tattoos - they’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hands falling to the intricate design on your hip. “I’ve dreamed of getting to touch them like this.”

His long hair trailed over your skin as he pressed kisses to your hip, speaking beautiful Turkish to all the parts of your body you hadn’t liked so you’d covered them in tattoos. He made you feel beautiful as he worshipped your body; when he finally dropped to his knees to lick between your legs, you thought you’d die of overstimulation.

His thumbs parted your lower lips, and he pressed a sucking kiss to your clit. You let out a whimper, your fingers tightening on the edges of the counter. You could feel the tip of his nose brush against your pussy as he ate you out and you arched your back to give him better access.

You moaned his name, trying to reach behind you so you could press his face further between your legs, but Çağlar quickly caught your arm and pinned it to your lower back. He slapped your ass a few times, chastising you in his native language before eating your pussy in earnest. You were off-balance without both hands to brace yourself and you could feel your orgasm building.

It was as if Çağlar knew exactly when you were going to cum, pulling away from you at the worst time. You made an indignant whine that quickly bled into a satisfied moan when you felt Çağlar’s dick slide into your pussy. His hands released your arms from behind your back, but instantly came up to wrap around your neck. His grip tightened with every fast-paced thrust into your cunt, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“I wanna feel you cum,” he growled, snaking his free hand between your legs to fondle your clit.

When you came around his cock, you saw stars, your orgasm more powerful as Çağlar slapped your clit with every spasm of your inner walls around his dick.

“Good girl,” he praised as he pulled out of you. The bottle of lotion thumped down on the counter next to you and you looked over at him in surprise. “Finish what you started, Tatlı cadı, and there might be another orgasm in it for you.”

[openheart12]

I Did Something Bad

A/N: Today is my lovely adoptive mom’s @burnsoslow birthday! I never thought me making a post about yk what would lead to our friendship and Kryce! I hope you have the best day ever and that it is every bit as amazing as you are! I’m so thankful for your friendship and how you make me laugh until I cry or pee fvhujskdghfn and you’re the only one who could ever make me into a Drake stan. I love you so much! Eat all the cake you can for me! Happy birthday, love! I hope you know how much I adore you ❤

A/N 2: This is very much full of Donald Trump hate and despitement because who wouldn’t hate him anyways jkhkdjgh there’s also quite a bit of cussing 

Word Count: 2,613

Thank you @rigatonireid for pre-reading!! 

“This is bullshit,” Kurns exclaimed as Bryce and Dick were watching the events unfolding at the United States Capitol. “This is why you don’t vote for oranges.” She said while rolling her eyes. 

“Agreed,” the two men replied in unison. 

“Jinx!” They replied again at the same time that led to twenty minutes of them saying “jinx again” in response until Dick finally gave in and let Bryce win. 

“You win, Bryce-y poo,” he had said. Kurns had kept her attention glued to the television during their little game. 

“You okay over there, banana flavored moonpie?” Dick asked, directing his attention over to Kurns. 

“No, look at all those turnips. And the cult leader himself told them to do this shit. People actually voted for this moron? They should all get head CTs to check for brain damage which they undoubtedly have.” 

“Would it make you feel better if we overthrew the government while kidnapping Donnie?” Dick asked seriously. 

“Yes, actually,” she answered with a wide grin. 

“Okay, let me make a few phone calls and can you download some episodes of My Little Pony on Netflix for Bryce?” Kurns nodded her head in response, she also took the liberty of downloading Among Us on their phones so they wouldn’t be bored on the flight. 

The flight from North Delanois was a little over eight hours and being on a plane that long with a toddler, well Bryce, was going to be a challenge. 

It was a private jet so hopefully it would be more bearable, but just in case she also downloaded a few episodes of Max and Ruby and Yo Gabba Gabba. She also downloaded some episodes of Parks and Rec and Friends for herself. 

After packing the essentials; clothing, toiletries, handcuffs, whipped cream, ice cubes -who knew- and My Little Pony gummies, they were off to the airport.  

“Dick Kock,” Dick said introducing himself along with Kurns and Bryce. 

Kurns was decked out in a Taylor Swift 1989 t-shirt and a pair of leggings with her trusty white vans whereas Bryce was dressed in a rainbow colored polka dot shirt, black and white striped pants, one blue croc and the other was yellow, and socks with weed on them. Him and Kurns had forgotten about meth since it already landed them in jail one. Chris P. Bacon was still a sore subject for the pair. 

They boarded the plane and Bryce immediately went to find his gummies. Kurns took a seat next to Dick and pulled up CNN news to get an update on the attack on the Capitol. 

Suddenly breaking news flashed across her phone screen: Taylor Swift set to release her tenth studio album later today. 

“OH MY GOD! BRYCE LOOK!” Kurns exclaimed, jumping up out of her seat to show Bryce. 

“OH MY GOD! TS10! TS10! TS10!” He chanted. 

“Oh wow, that sure is exciting!” Dick chimed in. 

“By the way, D, I think we should call this Operation ‘I Did Something Bad’ in honor of Taylor’s new album.” 

“That’s a spectacular idea, Kurnel Mustard!” Bryce said with a smirk, it had been a new nickname he had given her after the three of them had played Clue one night.

“Shut up, Apple Bottom Jeans, Boots with the Fur,” she retaliated, mocking the Little Pony named Apple Jacks. 

“Stfu,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You must be really mad if you’re talking in text.”

“Dick,” he pouted, “she’s doing it again.” 

“Be nice you two, we have a long flight ahead of us.” 

For the first two hours, they each did their own thing; Dick was reading a hunting magazine, Kurns was watching the news, and Bryce had already finished the entirety of My Little Pony. 

“Do you guys wanna play Among us?” Kurns asked out of the blue. 

“Hell yeah! I just bought the baby crew mate and I’m dying to use it,” Bryce responded. 

“I’ve never played before but sure!” 

“Okay so you’re either a crew mate or impostor and if you’re a crew mate, you have to do these tasks whilst trying not to die and if you’re an impostor, you go around killing other crew mates trying not to get caught in the process. You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” Kurns explained. 

“Thanks love bug,” Dick placed a quick kiss to the side of her head. 

The three of them found an open lobby and talked in the chat box waiting for the game to start and when it did, Dick asked the question of, “why is my name red?” 

“Oh my God, Dick! Don’t say that. It means you’re an impostor,” Bryce explained at the same exact time Kurns called an emergency meeting. 

“It’s purple,” Kurns typed in the text box, referring to Bryce’s color. 

“What the frick! It’s so not me. I’m not playing anymore,” he pouted, turning off his phone and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Now, children, can you two not get along? Think about the bigger picture,” Dick intervened. 

“True, but I’m still not going to play with her.”

His statement didn’t affect Kurns in the slightest and she went back to playing the game. Dick joined her while Bryce was running away from an imaginary dragon and he ended up colliding into one of the seats, face first. 

“Ow,” he rubbed his forehead that was now bright red. 

“That’s what you get for being a baby,” Kurns said, not looking up from her phone while Dick went to go check on his blueberry muffin. 

“You okay, strawberry flavored fig bar? That’s quite a hit you took.” 

“Yeah, a kiss would make it feel better though,” he said, using his puppy dog eyes. Dick smiled softly at him before kissing his forehead all better. 

The three of them spent the next six hours playing games, eating, and watching movies from the age of the dinosaurs that Kurns had saved since she was over 10,000 years old. 

After landing in Washington D.C., the trio headed straight to the Whitehouse, if people could storm the Capitol, how much harder could it be to kidnap the president? That was Kurns logic at least and as it turns out, it wasn’t that much harder. 

Kurns went to the Oval Office while Dick and Bryce went to the bunker since that apparently seemed to be Trump’s favorite place in the Whitehouse. But unexpectedly, Kurns found the Donald Duck under the office in the Oval, tweeting away on his iPhone 4s. 

“Mr. Racist,” she called and he immediately turned to look at her. 

“What? I’m tremendously busy if you can’t tell.” 

“I see that, Mr. Pigman.” 

“That is hugely racist towards me. I happen to be winning very bigly at the moment. I’m trending on Twitter!” He said proudly, he then proceeded to show Kurns his crusty ass phone. 

“Come on, I have some candy for you if you come with me,” Kurns coaxed him out from under the desk and led him to the white van they had brought with them, you know, the kind your parents warn you to stay away from. 

“Fake news!” Trump exclaimed with a huff. “You must be friends with sleepy Joe.” 

“You’re right,” she winked. 

“You know, frankly, this doesn’t make America great.” 

“I disagree, I think this definitely makes America great again,” Kurns retaliated. 

“Does Mikey know about this?” 

“Yeah, we planned it with the fly,” she snickered. 

“Well, it’s fake news, believe me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing you libtards wouldn’t understand it anyways. Anyways, what's that thing on your face?” 

“My mask?” 

“Yeah, what’s that for?” 

Kurns shook her head, not even being surprised by the question. “We’re in the middle of a pandemic, Donald Dump.” 

“What’s a panoramic?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” She got out her walkie talkie to talk to the boys. “The orange has expired. Over,” she said, their code word for getting Trump out. 

“Okay, bet, we’re on our way out. Over.” 

“Good job, K!” Dick said. 

“See you soon and thanks! Over.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Dick and Bryce arrived with a six foot cutout of Donald. 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“Hey, that’s me!” Trump chimed in. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Kurns said, she was quickly losing brain cells being in his proximity. 

“That is rude, quite frankly.” 

“We found it in his bedroom… along with some other, uh, questionable things,” Bryce explained. 

“Like what?”

“Like a, uh, dildo with Pence on it.” 

“Ew…” they all turned to look at Trump who was looking away and whistling, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. 

“Oh, um, about that. That was a tremendous invasion of privacy.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” they all said in unison and he pulled an imaginary zipper over his lips and threw away the key like a literal child. 

“I can’t be near him anymore,” Kurns said suddenly, getting out her phone to call someone. 

“Who are you calling?” Dick asked. 

“Joe, I was gonna invite him to go get some ice cream.” 

“OMG! I wanna go too!” Bryce exclaimed. 

“And me!” Trump said. 

“No, to both of you. You two have to keep an eye on Don and make sure he stays off of Twitter.” She was explaining when Joe picked up the phone. “Hey, Joe, do you want to go get ice cream somewhere?” 

“Duh! Taylor is actually here right now and you don’t care if she comes do you?” He asked to make sure. 

“Of course not! You can bring Champ and Major too! I know Jill is busy right now.” 

“Okay! On our way!” He said before hanging up. 

“Where are you going to go?” 

“Probably McDonald’s or something, Taylor is also coming with us, he said.”

“YOU MEAN THE TAYLOR?” Bryce asked in shock. 

“Yeah, him and Taylor are like BFF’s.” 

“I still like her music 25% less, okay?” Donald brought up. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Kurns said again. 

“Fine, fine. But could you make sure Barron is fed?” 

“Oop,” Bryce slapped his hand over his mouth. 

“Yes, now shut up.” 

Kurns was getting ready to go meet Joe and Taylor when Melania walked up to the van. “You have Trump?” She asked quietly. 

“Yeah, why? You need him?” 

“Yeah, could you make him sign this?” She placed some papers in Kurns hand. She read them and wasn’t shocked after realizing they were divorce papers. 

“No problem, hold tight real quick. Dick, make him sign these!” 

“Of course, ladybug.” He took a hold of Trump’s hand and wrote his name for him since he wouldn’t do it himself. 

“Here you go,” Kurns handed the papers back to Melania and she left without looking back. “Okay, I’m leaving. Be careful with that moron and for the love of God, don’t let his supporters know you have him.” 

“Roger that!” Bryce responded. 

“Don’t worry, vanilla brown sugar! We’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone. Have fun!” He called after her. 

She met Joe and Taylor at a local McDonald’s and greeted both of them with a hug. “Congratulations on winning the election and congratulations on album number ten!” She reached down to pet both of the German Shepherds who happily wagged their tails. 

“Thanks!” They replied in unison. 

“So how are the boys?” Taylor asked. 

“Good! They sent their regards. They’re actually, uh, holdingtrumphostage,” she said fast enough so hopefully they couldn’t understand but they are actually educated. 

“WHAT?” Joe exclaimed. 

“Miss gurl, how did y’all pull that off?” Taylor asked while hysterically laughing. 

“It was easier than I thought! Either security sucks or they wanted Trump gone and I can’t blame them for that.” 

“Amen sister!” Joe replied. 

“Can we see him?” Taylor asked. 

“I mean, yeah if you want!” 

“Okay let’s go!” She went to get up when Joe gently grabbed her arm. 

“But the ice cream…” He reminded her. 

“Of course, how could I forget?” She playfully rolled her eyes. They all ate their ice cream before heading back to the Whitehouse. 

Once arriving, Taylor and Joe headed straight to the front doors while Kurns stood there like 🧍‍♀️. “Hey guys, he's actually right there,” she said, pointing to the white van. 

Taylor opened the door to find Bryce half asleep on the ground, Dick was listening to ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ and dancing in his seat meanwhile, Donald had his lips glued to the side of the door, making out with it. 

“What the fuck?” All three of them asked at the same time. 

“OMG TAYLOR! HI! HOW ARE YOU?” Bryce shouted, jumping up off of the floor and pulling her into a hug. 

“Hi!” 

“Hello, Ms. Swift,” Dick greeted, gracefully bowing. “Mr. President,” he nodded. 

“How did you all meet?” Don asked. 

“We actually just met, our hate for you is what we bond over!” Joe explained in terms he would understand. Hopefully. 

“Oh,” was all he said and started to play with his fingers. “I don’t know if you knew this, but Washington D.C. is actually the capital of the United Stats. Did you know that?”

“What did you think it was? And it’s the United States, not… Stats.” Kurns asked in a surprisingly concerning tone. 

“I thought it was like a stat… or well state. Whatever it is.” 

“Oh,” Kurns said while Taylor called him an idiot under her breath. 

“That’s embarrassing miss gurl,” Bryce chimed in. 

“ARE YOU TALKING TIKTOK TO ME? I WILL BAN YOU,” Trump threatened. 

“Please, these empty promises you keep making are getting really old just like your term,” Dick said, making the others die of laughter… no literally, some Trump supporter that had been walking by had just collapsed and died. 

“And I oop-” Kurns and Bryce said at the same time. 

“IFHCBXNZNZ, HAHAHAHA,” Bryce barked out. 

“Can we get something to eat? I really want some Dino nuggies 🥺,” Trump pleaded. 

“No,” they all replied. 

“So what are we going to do with him?” Taylor asked. 

“I don’t know, what do y’all want to do with him?” 

“Excellent question, K, I say we feed him to some alligators!” Bryce exclaimed, flapping his two arms together to make an alligator jaw and started running towards Donald who jumped back in fear. 

“That’s not nice,” he pouted, a lone tear trickling down his cheek. 

“Fuck you, but not literally or physically,” Taylor said, making sure to explain what she meant. 

“I want some My Little Pony gummies!” 

“Me too!” Donald said with a smile now on his crusty, orange ass face. 

“No,” they replied again. 

“Fine,” he crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back to them, like the toddler he is. 

“Anyways, y’all want to go get Cookout?” Kurns suggested. 

“Yeah, of course!” Joe responded. 

The five of them headed to the nearest Cookout to get food and milkshakes, leaving Trump behind all alone. After hanging out with Taylor and Joe, it was unfortunately time to head back to North Delanois. With promises to meet up soon, the trio were soon enough taking off at the airport. 

“What ended up happening to Trump?” Bryce asked seriously. 

“He went to prison.” 

“As he should, period,” Kurns said with a smirk. 

“What are we going to do when we land?”

“Sleep!” Kurns and Bryce said. 

“Of course, my love doves. I’m going to try to do that right now, so please try to get along.” 

“Promise!” Kurns said, holding out her pinky finger which he took and kissed. The rest of the flight was surprisingly peaceful, Kurns and Bryce were able to get along while Dick slept. It had been a fun trip, one they hoped they would actually never have to make again. 

Tags: @burnsoslow @ao719 @callmeellabella @rigatonireid because no one else should have to read this :)

[noreasonjustbored]

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Jealous

Part 1:

Charlotte and Henry started dating a few months before their high school graduation. Everyone thought that it was a bad idea for them to begin a relationship because they were already set to go to separate colleges. Henry decided to attend the local community college, so that he could still be Kid Danger, and Charlotte would be a few hours away at Stanford on a full ride.

Before deciding to take the risk, they agreed that it wouldn’t work if both parties were not 110% committed. Knowing that they both wanted to make ‘them’ work above all else helped them to persevere through the rough patches. In the beginning the miles apart placed a strain on their relationship since they were so used to seeing each other every day. But they adjusted, they really put in the time and effort needed keep their relationship afloat. The distance eventually forced them to have better communication skills. They learned to articulate how they were feeling more concisely since they couldn’t read each other’s body language through text.

Since starting school they had both grown up a lot more. Charlotte decided to make the most of her college experience. She absolutely focused on her academics, but she wasn’t afraid to hit up a frat party every once in a while. She really found her stride in clothing design and would sometimes even sport her own looks to these events. Her wardrobe as a whole was more diversified. While her new clothes were far from risqué, she did show a little skin more often than not. She was overall a more confident and open person.

Henry was maturing in his own ways as well. He was taking over more responsibility when it came to the superhero business and the regular business. He would go out on missions alone frequently and only requested Ray for backup when absolutely necessary. Henry was really coming into his own as a hero. He was even considering rebranding himself and retiring his Kid Danger moniker for good. He couldn't yet decide between Man Danger, Sir Danger or Mr. Danger. He would have to workshop the name a little more.

It had been almost a year since Charlotte and Henry became official. In that time, they learned a lot about each other. Individually and as a couple. Charlotte learned that Henry was extremely needy and possessive and jealous. Henry learned that Charlotte was not.

Sometimes it bothered Henry that Charlotte was so nonchalant about people hitting on him. They had once been on a date where the waitress flirted with Henry the ENTIRE time. She was even so bold to leave her number on the receipt with a winky face next to her name. Charlotte didn’t even bat an eyelash. And he knows that Char noticed, she was way too observant not to pick on the very obvious server. She didn’t make any comments about it during or after the dinner.

He, on the other hand was always claiming her in front of random people. He couldn’t leave her alone for two seconds without coming back to some schmuck shooting their shot. Guy after guy were constantly getting curved by his beautiful girlfriend. That didn’t stop Henry from making his place known. A glare and a not so subtle hand around her waist or shoulder usually did the trick. He just wanted to drive home to these dudes that they had zero chance, not with his Char.

Henry figured that he should be happy that she was so secure in their relationship. And he was happy, but maybe he would like to see a little jealousy every once in a while. Charlotte had such a casual attitude towards the attention he got from other women, and sometimes men, that it felt like she didn’t care at all. He knew that he had already hit the jackpot with Charlotte, she was truly one of the best things to happen to him. He just wanted to feel as if the same was true for her.

Their first anniversary would fall during spring break so he convinced Charlotte to let him plan the entire week. She was hesitant to leave everything in his hands but conceded after a few days of pleading and pouting over FaceTime. She almost couldn’t believe how quickly she caved after seeing Henry’s adorable puppy dog expression. She did always find it hard to resist those beautiful brown eyes. Especially when combined with his hopeful begging to, “Just trust me babe. Pleeeaase.” Charlotte folded like fresh laundry.

Henry decided that they would go to New York for their break. Charlotte loved musicals and fashion, both of which there was an abundance of in New York. He decided that he would take her to a Broadway show, a concert and a runway show. He was ambitious.

During his research for the trip Henry discovered that the first installment of the official New York Fashion Week was hosted every February. They had already missed it but there were usually a series of smaller, more accessible shows in the month or so following. He was able to secure them seats at a show with an up-and-coming brand that seemed to fit Charlotte’s new style.

During his deep dive into fashion shows, plays and all the other events happening during their break, Henry saw that the Boo Man Group had shows in the city that same week. Charlotte loved them plus it would make up for that one year on her birthday that she missed their performance because of superhero shenanigans.

When trying to get tickets online he discovered that the group was sold out the entire time they would be in New York. Sighing in defeat, Henry was about to click off the browser when he noticed that the Boo Man Group weren’t doing a solo performance. They actually were just the opening act for none other than...Double G!

A tiny spark of hope bloomed in his chest when he realized that he just might have a connect to get into the concert after all. He figured it was a long shot but he quickly pulled out his phone and searched in the contacts. Once he found the name he was looking for, he immediately hit the call button.

Biting the corner of his bottom lip in anticipation, he hoped that she still had the same phone number and would pick up. Tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously Henry listened to the ringing tone and was just about to disconnect the line when he heard a raspy, “Hello?”

“Hey. Babe?” Henry asked.

Babe squinted down at her phone in confusion and cleared her throat. “Henry?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I completely forgot about the time difference between California and New York.” Henry said while glancing at his clock on his beside table. 9:02 pm. It would be after midnight over there. Oops, thought Henry.

“Uhhh yeah, that’s okay though. I’m up now, what’s going on?” Babe wondered while sitting up in bed. She hadn’t talked to Henry in over a year, unless you counted his extremely scarce retweets on Twitter or a rare comment under her posts on Instagram.

“I was wondering if you could help me get tickets to one of Double Gs shows in March?” Henry asked hesitantly while scratching the back of his neck.

“Uuuuuhh” was Babe’s reply.

“It’s totally okay if you can’t help me out. I figured I would at least ask because all the dates were sold out. And I know you are close to his family. You know what? Forget I brought it up” Henry said in a rush.

“Henry it’s okay, I’m still half asleep and I was just contemplating if I would be able to get you tickets. Chill.” Babe replied with a small laugh.

“Sorry. I’m a little high strung right now. I’m trying to plan a spring break to remember and these tickets would definitely get me one step closer.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll check with Trip tomorrow at work. He pretty much has access to all his dad’s shows. I can probably hook you up with backstage passes, VIP, the whole thing.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I can’t believe it” Henry exclaimed excitedly.

“Yeah just text me tomorrow with the details. What days you’ll be in town, number of tickets, whatever else” she said while yawning.

“Ok, ok will do. Thanks again. I really owe you one Babe” Henry said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it, I’ll be happy to collect on a favor from Kid Danger” Babe teasingly retorted.

“Well, have a good night. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later” Babe replies before hanging up her phone.

A large smile covered his face when he thought about all the fun they were going to have. Spring Break couldn’t come fast enough.

Henry was so busy arranging the trip that he barely had any extra time. He and Char usually FaceTimed every night but recently that had decreased to two or three times a week. On top of all the trip planning, he was out on more late night crime alerts than usual. It seemed as if every villain in Swellview had suddenly gotten the motivation to enact their little schemes all at once. Like they all decided that they needed to complete their plots for total domination before Spring Break. Maybe they were going on vacation too.

Henry was busy consolidating his budget one afternoon when he got a video chat request. Looking up from the document that he was reading he searched under all the pages spread out on his desk for his phone. He finally located it under a credit card statement that he had printed. Looking at the screen he involuntarily smiled when he saw the contact picture. Pressing accept, he was greeted by the glowing umber skin of his gorgeous girlfriend.

"Hey Love" Henry greeted with a dazzling smile.

"Hey Handsome. I was just calling to see how you were doing on budget day" Charlotte responded.

Furrowing his brows and squinting slightly, Henry chuckled. "How'd you know it was budget day?"

"Well I know you've been working on being more fiscally responsible after I explained that good credit wasn't just for 'crusty old dudes'. Plus your card balance is due tomorrow and you always wait until the last minute to figure out your bills."

"Wow, aren't you quite the detective?" Henry sassed lightly.

"Yes. Yes I am. Also, you put it in our shared calendar with a frowny face beside it." Charlotte smirked.

"Oh yeah, I remember that now. That was after the third time I had pushed it off for later. I decided to put it in the joint calendar because I knew you would hold me accountable if I didn't do it."

"Smart plan. You know I can help if you need anything."

"Yeah, actually I have a question about interest rates. How do you-" Henry paused.

Charlotte could see Henry looking at his phone in contemplation while biting the corner of his bottom lip. “Uh, baby?" Charlotte inquired after few seconds of silence.

"Hey, I'm actually getting an important call, let me call you back later okay?"

"Oh ok, don't forget to tell me...your question about interest" she trailed off when he she realized that he had already clicked over to the other line.

Strange thought Charlotte.

He reluctantly interrupted his conversation with Char because Babe was calling him back. He needed to know if she was able to secure the tickets for them. But, he decided it would be a good idea not to tell Charlotte who was calling. He didn't want her to figure out the surprise location and a clue like that could give it away. She wouldn't be able to guess where they were going since she didn't know that he was talking to Babe. What other reason would Henry have to speak to the New York native?

Henry spent the next few weeks coordinating with Babe about his Epic Spring Break Trip. She helped him get the concert tickets and extra perks but she also gave him advice about what other events would be in town that week. She provided the inside scoop about all the cool local spots in their area. She also helped him pick which Broadway show they thought he and Charlotte might like the best. She assisted with picking what hotel would work best with his budget. Babe was basically his travel agent without any pay.

When everything was finalized and shaping up to be the best spring break of all time, Henry called Babe to ask her what he could do in order to repay her for all the assistance. She responded that she was more than happy to help and if she thought of anything, she would let him know. He told that he would help her with whatever, whenever and let her know that it had been great catching up with her over the last few weeks.

Henry had previously only considered her a nuisance based off the impression she made when they first met. Now he thought of her as, at the very least, a good acquaintance. Maybe even a friend. Time seemed to have mellowed her out significantly. He might even consider accepting her friend requests on his private social media pages. He followed her profiles but she had seemed like she would be hella annoying online so he held off on letting her follow him back.

As the vacation approached, Henry got more and more nervous. He went back in forth in his head about if Charlotte was going to hate everything that he planned. Unnecessary thoughts plagued his mind. What if her interests had changed? What if she hates Boo Man Group now? What if doesn’t like fashion anymore? What if she doesn’t even like ME anymore?

His fears were quickly assuaged on the day before they were set to leave for New York. He, Ray and Schowz were all standing around talking while they hula-hooped. He had just dropped his hoop for the thousandth time when Charlotte came into the ManCave. She immediately dropped all of her luggage after stepping off the elevator and catapulted into his arms. He hugged her back tightly and when he pulled back to look at her face he could see the love shining in her eyes. He let out a sigh of contentment while holding her in his arms. Then they proceeded to have the most intense, toe curling, lip tingling kiss that they had ever shared.

Their passionate, borderline inappropriate kiss came to an abrupt halt when they heard an airhorn sound off loudly right into their ears. They hadn’t seen each other since New Year’s day, could you really blame them for getting swept up into the moment? Quickly jumping apart they looked around to notice that Ray and Schwoz were staring at them incredulously.

“Geez guys, did you remember to breathe?” Ray exclaimed.

“Yeah it looked like you were both trying to suffocate each other with your tongues.” Schwoz snidely commented.

Charlotte looked embarrassed to have lost her inhibitions in front of the pair and weakly called out “Shut up!” while rubbing her arms awkwardly.

Henry chuckled and pulled his mortified girlfriend into his arms again and gave her a simple kiss on the forehead.

“What are you doing here babe? I thought I was going to pick you up from school on the way to the airport tomorrow morning?”

“You were but I wanted to surprise you. You’ve spent so much time planning this trip that I feel like we haven’t spoken much lately.”

“Awwww...you missed little ole' me? I’m honored” Henry responded jokingly.

Charlotte hit him lightly on the arm. “I mostly missed Jasper” she says with a smirk. “Where is he by the way? I wanted to see him before we left. I thought he was coming home for break?"

“Jasper was invited to some kind of exclusive bucket convention last minute so he’s actually in Wisconsin right now.”

“Oh. That’s weird, but totally Jasper. I also missed those two goofballs, but don’t tell them that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Henry said lowly while bending down to give Charlotte another kiss. Before they could even brush lips, the air horn let out three quick spurts too close for comfort courtesy of Ray.

“Uh uh uh. No more of that in here. I don’t like to be reminded of how single I am.”

“And stop hogging Charlotte!” Schowz said while pulling Henry away to bestow a brief hug upon her.

“I missed you! You know these idiots can barely comprehend what I’m saying most days” Schowz lamented.

“That's because of your silly accent and you know it!” Ray cuts in while pushing Schowz away with a palm to his face.

He gives Charlotte a quick hug as well and says, “Welcome back Brains. I didn’t miss you at all.”

“Love you too Ray” Charlotte says with a smile.

They spend the whole day in the ManCave watching movies and catching up on life. This place was her home away from home and she wouldn’t it change it for the world.

[sevenseasofrog]

Lads ‘n Lasses

pairing: highschool!ben x fem!reader

summary: single sex schools are never boring

word count: 2982

a/n: wagwan gs, this might not be to everyone’s taste but i’ll see how it goes, this is the first time i’ve imagined myself as the reader while writing ?? not as someone else reading it ?? it’s also set in a manchesterish sort of place bc i had a major mind block trying to write about anywhere else other than where i actually live ,, that probably sounds weird idk aha, it’s defo an au where ben basically is still in education and all sorts of chaos takes place as the year moves forward ,, anyway ,, enjoy !! if you have any questions or likewise feel free to send an ask bc i see how it could be semi confusing ,, love u all a lotta :) ❤️

here’s also some stuff that could make it less confusing (especially if you’re not familiar with lingo from north west england, i’ll maybe add to this with each new chapter that comes out :)

St. Mary’s/ Mary’s- the all girls school the reader attends, quite middle class and full of students who like to make drama for their own entertainment, strong focus on languages and arts

St. Peter’s/ St. Pete’s - the all boys ‘brother’ school to St. Mary’s, very laddish with a focus on sports and science

Niamh & Maria - the reader’s two closest and longest friends

Tram/Met - British version of an overground subway?

Shout - another word for a houseparty

Snide - unfair

Swear down - saying you are telling the truth

also, the reader and ben are between the ages of like 17 and 18ish, the whole thing isn’t very accurate to the uk school system but it works a little better like that so yall are gonna have to go with it aha

ps, this chapter is spilt in two bc i got very carried away when writing it and tumblr has a word limit, hmph. however, that does technically mean that i can say i’ve written two chapters not just one ?? go me !!

Chapter 1: September

4th of September, the night before a new term, new academic year and a nearly fresh start. Your last year at St Mary’s had not been something you were dreading so to speak, and now it was finally here. Thanks to upcoming exams, you only had a little over five months to get through before freedom, and eventually, a completely clean slate at a new, far less intimidating school environment. Anticipation building, you called it a night

6:15am. You woke up to the painful sound of your alarm clock, early morning sun peeking through the split between the curtains. Eager to silence the blaring noise you crawled out of the comfort of the duvet and hastily clicked the stop button in the centre of your phone screen. You made your way into the bathroom, careful not to wake your parents, brushed your teeth and quickly got undressed before stepping into the shower, letting the cool water run down your back without getting your hair wet, since you had it cut and washed yesterday afternoon. Slipping on your school uniform you caught eye of yourself in the mirror and decided that you had nothing to lose by putting on a little makeup, you had time after all. It was about 7am when you made your way downstairs, the house still quiet with only you awake. These mornings were the ones you liked best, just you and your own thoughts, with no one to bother you other than the dogs. It was still relatively warm during the September days so you chose to leave your jumper hung over a chair in the kitchen, putting just your blazer over your crisp, white blouse. Throwing an apple and cereal bar into your bag for later in the day, you figured that you might as well also pack some paracetamol and chewing gum for good measure, knowing it would come in handy eventually. You headed into the hallway to sit on the bottom step of the stairs to put your shoes on, tying the laces as tight as you possibly could, slung the black tote over your shoulder and grabbed your set of keys, which were usually on a hook which your dad had attached to the wall earlier in the year.

The walk to the tram stop was pleasant enough. There was no real breeze and you walked with your hands in you pockets to the beat of the music. Skipping down the steps to the platform to buy a ticket for the week, the change rattled in your pocket, and you had to cover it to stop anything flying out. Once you had finally managed to get the machine to produce a ticket after it spat out the coins you tried to use a few times, you spun round and walked towards the sheltered seats down the further end of the stop. It was only 7:45 by this stage and there were still very few people around. Missing the school rush was certainly worth it for you, and it also meant there was time to grab a coffee on the way to school with Niamh and Maria, who both got on at later stops anyway. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, deciding to text your parents, as you did every morning to let them know you were okay. You skipped a few songs before slipping your phone back into your pocket and looking up to examine your surroundings, following a good few weeks of not coming to the somewhat grimy metro stop, nothing had changed. The ground was still caked in chewing gum, graffiti littered the ticket machines, and the bin was, as ever, overflowing.

There was one thing different though, slightly odd too. A blonde haired boy who you had never seen before was stood on the opposite platform. Weird. It was then that you noticed he was in the uniform for St. Peter’s, with a backpack hung on one shoulder and a gym bag on the floor- grim move from the newbie. It suddenly hit you however. He was on the wrong platform, and could end up getting on a tram further into the city centre rather than away from it. God, this was awkward. You could leave him? it would be kind of funny? but also a bit snide.

No.

Don’t do that you told yourself. Deciding to ‘start the new term right’ you cleared your throat before shouting across

“You going to St. Pete’s mate?”

He looked up from the ground, obviously somewhat confused, checking to see whoever the person who had shouted was talking too. Luckily, this was quite easy, given that he then noticed that he was in fact the only person on the platform. You gave a wave and as friendly a smile as you could muster given it wasn’t even 8 o’clock yet, in a desperate attempt to get his attention, which just so happened to work.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Because given that you’re on the wrong platform, you’re gonna have a very hard time getting there”. His jaw dropped a little

“You are joking, right?”

“Nope!”, you popped the ‘p’, just for emphasis, “So... are you just gonna stand there like a lemon or change platforms then?”. He quickly picked his bag off the ground and jogged up the steps to the bridge. As he crossed you rolled the waistband of your skirt up, realising that you previously looked a little to nun-ish for your liking. By the time you had finished fixing up your appearance the mysterious blonde was plodding down the steps, towards you. Shit. Now what?

You had just about composed yourself by the time he reached you.

“Ben. Ben Jones” he spoke, before offering his hand to shake.

“You’re very proper aren’t you!?”, you thought out loud “guessing you're not from up here then hm? Name’s y/n l/n by the way, I go to St. Mary’s”, you said, trying to remain friendly.

“Yeah, moved up from Bournemouth at the start of summer. My parents wanted to come up here so I had a chance of getting some sort of sports scholarship or something for rugby, y’know, for uni and that”. He spoke with quite a low, quiet voice, but definitely had a southern accent that you couldn’t imagine going any time soon. Now he was stood nearer, you had managed to get a clearer picture of Ben; he was very well built and had the physique of a genuine sportsman, He wasn’t too tall- but still taller than you by a considerable amount. His facial features were mostly soft, although his nose looked like it could have been broken in past games and he had the most striking green eyes.

“Well, you’d have had a pretty difficult time getting anywhere if you were stuck in the centre of town.” you both let out a laugh.

“Honestly, I’m such a melt, only I could do that on one of the few days that being on time actually matters”. You broke eye contact momentarily to see that a tram was approaching.

“Right then” you said, stepping towards the edge of the platform. “We’re a bit early but I normally get a coffee anyway, you can come if you want? I mean, you don’t have to get this one if you don’t want but if you do then the offer’s there..” You trailed off, noticing that you had waffled on a bit.

“Aha, no it’s fine! I’d be happy to get this one, you’re literally the first person I’ve spoken to who’s like, my age so it’s not like I have anyone to wait for. Plus, I’ll probably get lost if you abandon me now.” He looked up with puppy dog eyes after picking his gym bag off the floor again.

Stepping on the tram, you decided to offer him your first piece of valuable advice; “Right… Well. If we’re gonna be mates I better give you the rules of the road up here”.

“Go on then, local expert”, he said with a smirk.

“First things first. Don’t put your bag on the floor. It’s crusty and makes you look like a gimp”.

“Noted”, he spoke as the pair of you sat on the grey seats.

“Second. Most of the boys are maniacs and the girls are awful bitches, I’d say that I’d help you figure out who’s who but you’ll probably be able to decide for yourself”.

“Hm, you’re really selling it to me. The brutal honesty is a nice touch”. You gave a playful punch to the side of his arm, with a grin smeared across your face.

“Swear down mate, you’ll thank me later for this though.”

The journey passed in a flash, the pair of you talking like friends reunited. You learnt that he had a beagle named Frankie, lived not too far from you, he played rugby for teams but also enjoyed drama and music.

“You’re quite the character aren’t you! can’t say I took you for a performing arts kinda guy”

“Well… What kind of person did you take me as then, all knowing-y/n”

“Well Ben from Bournemouth.. that would be telling wouldn’t it, I can tell you however that this is our stop though”. You both stood up, grabbing your bags and heading for the doors of the carriage. You had a text from Niamh and Maria earlier on in the journey saying they’d be late and there was no point waiting for them, so you carried on the walk alone with Ben.

“If I left you here right now, would you have any clue where to go?” you questioned, genuinely intrigued.

“Erm.. no… I would have to stand around for a bit and hope someone takes pity on me”

“What about google maps though??”

“Hmm.. Let’s just say that there’s a reason I don’t take geography”

The coffee shop was about the same distance from the tram stop as is was from school, and it was about 20 past 8 when you pushed open the door with a small chime. It was a cosy little café, situated on the corner of the market street with wicker chairs outside and brown leather sofas inside. You never stayed in however, much preferring to enjoy whatever you brought during the rest of the walk to school. Today was a latte day, no questions asked. You liked to rotate throughout a few different drinks, depending on your mood. Ben stood close by as you explained how you’d most definitely be on black coffee by this time next week, but you might have the odd pumpkin spiced latte as September moved into October, just for novelty really. He gave out a small chuckle,

“You really are in a league of your own aren’t you? I’ve known you like an hour and I’m convinced you hold the secrets of the universe or some shit”. You liked Ben. He was good company and you had a fair bit in common;

“and what if I did hold the secrets of the universe huh?”

“I’d use the black market to sell you to a looney philosopher somewhere or other and make myself some fat stacks.” You both doubled over in complete hysterics. Would it be weird to say that you’d never bonded so quickly with someone? yeah, probably you thought, brushing the idea away quickly. Your giggle fit was quickly broken up however when the barista announced that your drink was ready, you fished the loose change out of your pocket and handed it over moments later,

“keep the change mate” you said politely, turning on your heel towards the door once again.

“You really are quite the angel aren’t you?” the boy walking next to you said “ooooo, keep the change mate, I’m y/n and I am the source of all life and joy” he mocked.

“You know it blondie”, you retorted with a smirk.

You had walked a fair deal further, now following the main road and considerably nearer to school when Ben reached into his inside pocket .pulling out a cigarette and lighter. You silently watched out of the corner of your eye as he held the stick in his mouth and lit one end, he inhaled deeply before taking it from between his lips to exhale. Before his could bring his hand back up however, you plucked it from his fingers and drew a breath from it yourself before throwing it down and stamping on it. Ben simply stood with his mouth hung open looking dumbfounded. “Whoa steady on...What the fuck was that about then? Oh… and for the record, you owe me a cig now!”, he spoke with a tone of shock mixed with annoyance

“Boo-Hoo”, you spoke back, “But neither of us can have a first day back if we get excluded before we even get to school you dimwit. There’s teachers stood by the traffic lights down there”, you pointed further down the pavement. “See for yourself if you want…” you trailed off. Ben looked a little guilty, realising that he could have got you both in a good deal of trouble,

“Ah, Right, Okay… Sorry about that..”

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly. It’s fine, you’re new! You’ve got a lot to learn still”, you gave him a reassuring smile, but you could tell that he still felt a twinge of regret.

The pair of you carried on the walk in a comfortable silence, and as you approached St. Peter’s a thought struck you. “Right. After school, wait for me here, I don’t really want you being lost in a new town stuck on my conscience all night”

“How noble of you, Miss y/l/n! How will I ever repay you for this selfless act of charity!” He exaggerated, running his hands through his hair as he spoke.

“We’ll have to see about that one won’t we, I guess”, You hitched your bag back onto your shoulder properly. Before he turned into the courtyard of his new school he grabbed your arm,

“Wait a minute... you give off way too much chaotic energy for things to run smoothly. What’s your snap or your number or something incase something goes horribly wrong” He spoke again, with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Hm, go on then, I’ll give you my number then you can just add me on snapchat with it too if you really want. Two birds with one stone ‘n all that”, you reached into your bag and pulled out a pen. “Gimmie something to write on, chop chop matey!” you spoke hurridley, realising that you only had 10 minutes before you needed to be sat down in your first registration of the academic year. In a panic, he stuck out his hand, and you began to scribble down the first few digits.

“Fucking hell! I thought you were writing it down not tattooing it!”, he took in a sharp breath.

“Hm.. What.. Wait! Shit, sorry.. I’m a bit heavy handed”. You finished writing the numbers down with a conscious attempt not to press quite so hard and then threw the pen back into your bag.

“Aight then, I’ll see you later yeah?” He looked up at you,

“See ya later lemon boy”. You shot another smile before continuing on a few meters further down the path and approached the gates of St. Mary’s.

Hello old friend, you thought before taking a deep breath and turning into the school, with no way out for the next few hours at least. You stepped hurriedly through the labyrinth of corridors before reaching the room where you’d be registered. Throwing your bag onto your usual desk you could feel two sets of eyes on you.

“y/n l/n, You have some explaining to do! go on then, who’s the boy?” Niamh began, a devilish grin on her face.

“Gimme a second to sort my life out yeah? I just need to get my bearings then you can interrogate me”, you spoke, followed by a heavy sigh. After you put your bag in your new locker you returned to the desk where you were greeted by your long time friends once again. “Wait a minute, how do you even know? started hiring government spies or some shit?”

“Erm, no. But that’s quite a good idea actually. If you’re that desperate to know, Lewis sent me a message asking if you’d got a boyfriend over summer..” You let out a scoff before Maria could continue. “He still really likes you ya know?”

“Yes mum, I do know, you remind me most days” You all let out a laugh, attracting some attention from the neighboring tables.

“We’re off topic, you still need to explain yourself and we have like, 3 minutes until the bell goes” Niamh interrupted, she had always been the most conscious member of the group, as much as both you and Maria hated to admit.

“Right, I’ll keep it simple. I was at the met stop and he was stood on the wrong side so I told him to switch otherwise he’d never make it to school then he told me that his name’s Ben and he’s new and he’s in our year and then we got on the tram and then we went to get coffee then he decided he wanted a smoke and then I told him off and then we got to school and then I told him I’d meet him after school then I walked into school and now I’m here with you two” You barely paused for breath and gasped before either of your friends could continue, both of them looking shocked and rather confused.

“Right. You can explain that all again later in a bit only at least 76 times slower. ok? thanks? nice” is all Maria managed to respond before the door swung open and your teacher walked in...

Hope you enjoy !!❤️

Let me know if you want adding to the taglist !! :)

[goondis-and-the-plupples]

1920′s Chicago AU masterlist

all credit goes to the brilliant anon who created this au!!!

Scene:

“1920s Chicago people from all over are moving, the world is changing and whether they are immigrants or natives, rich or poor, a suave detective or an artist they’re all a possible victim but to who and why? Crime, love, and the changing of times, it’s all happening. “

Starring:

Ryan Bergara: The out of place Californian “ghost hunter”. Broke, desperate and with nothing to lose when he hears about the strange occurrences happening in Chicago he caught the first train there and now is stuck. He’s got some dark secrets and no matter what his two partners do he’s not letting them know anything about his brothers who are only known as Goldsworth and Night-Night. Reluctantly he joins forces with Detective Madej and Miss Impicciche to get to the bottom of what’s happening. 

Shane Madej: Detective Shane Madej used to work for the police station but his bosses hated him and he spent his day drawing hot dog comics so with the money his brother he affectionately calls “long legs” sends him he bought himself a big house and started his own detective agency and he employs his friends such as Miss Impicche who he’s still not sure how he found. He met his partner in crime and best friend Ryan the day he moved there and saw him yelling at the “ghosts” in the corn field.

Kelsey Impicciche: A ball of sunshine who Shane says he “discovered”. She tags along on cases and can be seen in the back making her shocked faces at Ryan and Shane and figure clues out. No ones quite sure where Kelsey came from the story changes every time is she a Italian immigrant, a lost movie star, a former girl on the streets all they know is she’s employed at the Madej house and is pretty crucial in solving what the heck is going on in Chicago.

Sara Rubin: An artist who you can find drawing around the city; she loves Shane and has one rule - “don’t get killed and don’t get any animals killed or I’ll kill you.”

Madam Safiya Nygaard: A literal Queen; once shot down a robber from her third story window window with a slingshot. Left the business Buzzes Miracle Feed a few years ago. Lives in the huge mansion on the end of the street with Tyler and Crusty and no one knows anything about her except that she gets packages every week.

Steven Lim: Food critic who has a joking rivalry with Ryan since they’re both stuck in Chicago but Steven for a different reason unlike Ryan he has money but is always seems to be swindled by the Lady Like Ladies Of Cherry Street. The guy just can’t resist what they’re offering him. Kind of disappointed the city doesn’t have that much truffle. 

Andrew Ilnyckyj: Works for the newspaper and tags along with Steven to write about local restaurants and because Steven always pays and is pretty nice.  

Adam Bianchi: Takes pictures for the newspaper takes along with Steven and Andrew. looks reallyyy good in a 1920s suit and sometimes Kelsey calls him up because Ryan and Shane forgot to bring a camera to take pictures of the crime scene 

Lady Like: the ladies dressed to the nines that sip tea and watch people outside Freddie’s boutique. Know everything about everyone. Will dwindle you out of money. The law doesn’t apply to them.

Try Guys: Exactly what they are today: a bunch of guys who started their own company after leaving Buzz’s Miracle Feed and are literally the only people in the whole city that don’t have any dark secrets. 

Ariel Fulmer: An architect and interior designer for the town and they’re all just wholesome with Neds son like a big family.

TJ Marchbank: Shane’s neighbor who pretends he doesn’t like Shane, but is always lurking around cases; when asked why, he claims that they’d all get themselves killed if it wasn’t for him. Keeps the boys in line when Kelsey can’t. Scares Shane a lot and says he has a life outside of the boys but does he really no ones sure

ANYWAY I LOVE THIS AU THANK YOU ANON AND BLESS YOUR SOUL

[spacebookettes]

Garden Centre

It was a hot day in the garden.. she was garden sitting for a friend. A giant waterproof bean bag in one cool corner: She collapsed in to it almost spilling her tall cold glass of sparkling water. She took a sip and noticed a droopy leaf. She’d been there two days, the owner had said “water when its hot.” She noticed another droopy leaf on another droopy plant. Though the flowers were bright in the sun shine. She took another sloshy sip. A leaf turned in the ever so slight breeze; it turned to face her and stayed in that position. The garden sitter sat the tall chill glass next to her and kept an eye out for insect drinkers. She noticed another droopy plant in a pot, the soil looked like the crumbs in the bottom of a toaster. She settled back in her shady position, marvelled at the bright shining flowers and thought to herself, I’ll water tonight. A desiccated branch snapped somewhere, though she couldn’t see it. The roses she noticed seemed to be all peering in her direction. Ha she amazed. Had they always been watching me like that? A wasp disappeared into a flower, she heard a struggled frantic buzzing... it never came out. She sipped a little sparkling water it dribbled down her chin onto her top, she giggled and looked up into the canopy craddling her from the scorching. A deranged face, made up of leaves, seems to peer back at her. A brown crusty leaf floated down toward her glass of sparkling water and just missed it’s opening and instead settled on the edge of a terracotta pot in a little spot of sunlight. She felt kind of sorry for it, curiously and brushed it into the shade. She took a giant gulp of the bubbly water. Another dry snapping came from behind her. She looked around and saw only garden wall and bushy tree trunks. A bird flew onto the house roof. It looked down at her, then looked at the perspiring glass beverage. The ferns were all turned to face her now, though she didn’t notice. The bird flew off. She sat back, stretched her legs out and dangled her toes just in the sunlight. A yellow petal drifted onto her little toe. Owww she snatched back her feet into the shadows. “did that petal bite me. Some of the branches seemed to be stretching and reaching down toward the cold water, almost touching the rim. Large droopy leaves looked sullen, not enough energy to turn their gaze all the way towards her. A decrepit old twig gently tapped her on the shoulder. She upturned her limbs and the glass beverage: It shattered and the water seeped into the below. Someone shouted Charizard "Charizard.. Charizard" with a whistle; faint sounds of hungry meowing could be heard moving. She looked down at the shards; the water had gone, all dried up, consumed. I'll get the hose out now then. As she unravelled the hosepipe into the centre of the small but lavish garden. Every leaf flower and branch seemed to be focused toward her. Birds started gathering on top of the garden boundary bushes. She turned on the hose, she’d been told to wet the soil not the leaves or they’ll scorch in the sunlight. She flooded the ground with full force water pressure. Every grey brown piece of dusty soil was soaked engorging for a good half hour. She stood there filling plant pots to the brim. The birds eyed the puddles, some were brave and dived into the hydration. Splashing, preening and drinking. The shrubbery seemed to swell, twice the garden seemed now to be here. She turned the hose on herself, drenched from head to foot she went back towards the house to change. She notice one Sunflower, smiling a seedy missing grin. And as she closed the door behind her, all the birds dived into the oasis.

The end

By Peter Stringer

OOOZ

 In one of the great Super Cities, one of the ones surrounded by a world of retaken by nature... in it’s bowels they say there’s a nightmare war being fought. Forces sent down to the colossal vats; vats that hold all the chemical waste no longer allowed back into nature. They say Things live in the vats.

It’s just stories to keep kids in the brighter upper areas; stories and also scientists are down there taking samples, trying to find uses for the black goo... they travel with armed guards, just in case.

 

By Peter Stringer

Daft Cow

Daft Cow was fully grown... at least in physical proportions. She liked to play with the other animals. Played chase still. The fox cubs on the farm, looked surprised to see a fully sized cow bow it’s front legs, turn it’s head and then friskily run after them around what was left of the meadow. The farm dogs liked to take it in turns to jump on her back, she stood proud for them and then chased them around the farm yard.

The owners of All Animal Farm fed the rescued chickens as a flash of cow hulk speeded past them, a furious goose behind chasing. Daft Cow tried to play with the free range chickens but they didn’t seem up to it. Their half feathered bodies had never seen a cow before and they scattered when this one dropped a bright orange ball before them. Daft Cow thought this was a game and scattered herself in the opposite direction, hid behind a tractor. The chickens didn’t come to find her. She sulked off to the great metal fence to look at the alligator. The alligator wasn’t allowed to be free range... somehow gator instincts remain intact, even when freed from the competition of survival.

All Animal Farm had a new arrival, a security goat from a scrap yard, she'd never walked on grass... Daft Cow showed her how. The goat kicked in the air so did Daft Cow knocking down a fence post keeping the fence up around the duck pond, a goose chased both of them to the other side of the meadow.

Daft Cow slid up to the tractor shed, she wasn’t allowed in there anymore. The goat was the look out. The daft cow wacked it’s bum on the lock mechanism. It cracked and Daft Cow sauntered backwards into the tractor shed. Two massive gleaming tractors, Daft Cow loved chasing them through the fields, but they sometimes ignored her. The goat was disgusted, how rude.

Daft Cow had a idea... they walked slowly to the trees, into the shade and to a large hole in the ground. Daft cow stuck her snout in the hole and bellowed the largest moo she could muster. Daft Goat did the same with a bleat. Scuffling barking, angry growling. Five adult badgers came raging out of the hole entrance the cow and the goat ran for it.

Daft cow showed Daft Goat the metal fence around the alligator. How she longed to play snap chase with the giant reptile. Daft Goat look unsure. The gator didn’t move, not in the least bit bothered by the playful duo.

Daft Cow stood proud at the top of the hilly paddock. Stood on her back was an impressed Daft Goat taking in the green scape scenery vantage: she'd never seen this many fields before. They looked down on the farm below them. The owners took a picture of the Daft animals on the hillside. This is perfect for the promotional material for our next funding drive.

Many hits the website with the Daft picture got. A year later the picture was taken again. A Daft cow and Daft Goat proud on a hill top., next to them was an older Daft Donkey... it’s eyes bright with mischief.

The end

By Peter Stringer

[the-headbop-wraith]

1_14 Flare Ups

The ancient factory had been built in a portion of the town where vision had failed to flourish, while at the time traffic had moved so naturally in other developments and the town had forgotten of former allies.  Roads surrounded the large of brick and steel monolith basking in the last carpet of light, the color of the air that had been so vibrant when on the other side of town now took a drab gray tone despite the fervent strokes of the diving sun.  On the opposing sides of the factory roads sat a forest still trembling at the edge of industrial expansion, the other third of the territory beyond the old roads was invaded by large plots of land trampled for new venues. These temporarily abandoned construction zones where the roots of delicate architecture of steel beams and cement slabs sat, boarded by chain-link fences made statement for new growth rising from the ashes of destruction as the phoenix rose from its incineration.

A few vehicles, Arthur counted five, passed the van as it made its way down the road.  The occasional crinkle of a wrapper and munching of the cookie came from the back, but there was otherwise little sound from the group as they made their second trip to the factory.  Lewis had the passenger side window down and was leaning out checking the perimeter around, before Arthur turned off the main road to take the single lane path that ran around up the backside of the factory and to the thick gate that surrounded the plant.  Soft whines came from Mystery in the back and coos from Vivi as she hushed the dog.  

The sun was falling faster and faster behind the distant hills and quivering tree lining, by the time Arthur brought the van to a halt beside the gate that surrounded the factory.  He parked amongst tall trees and brush that tore through the rusted bars of the gate, but Arthur felt there was no danger of the vehicle being discovered or bothered while they were this far out from the main town.

Low ticks twittered from the engine of the van, once the ignition was cut.  Without a word Arthur shoved the driver side door open and slipped out to inspect the falling dusk, and rising blues in the brisk cool air.  Dust gravel and earth was rich on the breeze, dry leaves rattled over the bare path, and the familiar aroma of cheap old grease hung thick. The factory marinated in the memories and ill influence, of those that had once loathed its callous structure.  As he moved along the vans side to the back, he looked up through the branches of the trees and saw the last light of sun gleaming orange and red from the few remaining windows in set beyond the great height of the distant gray wall.

The back doors creaked open and Vivi poked her head out.  “Got a light?” she asked, and clicked on a flashlight. She held it out to Arthur and he took it.

“Got my bag?” Arthur caught it when Vivi slung it his way.  “I’m… being sabotaged,” he said, as his metal arm fumbled to twist the correct way through the arm strap.  Vivi assisted by carefully turning his arm further back, and spun Arthur around to reach through the strap proper.  “Thanks.”

From the front of the van Vivi caught the sudden slam of passenger door, followed by the faint crunch of rock underfoot.  “Can you carry a bag, Lew?”  She slid out one more bag with her, and turned to check the eyes glinting behind the sunglasses.

“Yeah, give it here.” He took the offered bag, and stepped back as the odd patter of legs joined them.  Mystery sprang out of the open back and when he hit the ground, gave a hard shake, as dogs do.  His collar jingled as the hound worked out the loose hair and wrinkles in his muscles. Lewis saw the red eyes turn and look at him, before Mystery spun away and trotted over to Arthur.  “Anything else?” Lewis asked, as he looked into the van.

“This should be everything,” Vivi answered.  She moved away as Arthur returned, and slammed the back doors of the van shut.  For a moment, Vivi fiddled with her backpack turning it around at her side and pulling, before she pulled out the camera.  A bright flash went off and she lowered the camera and scanned through the images, her feet moving as she began leading.  “C’mon Mystery.  I know you don’t like the shoes, but it’s just for a few hours.”

Lewis smiled as he watched Mystery pad after Vivi.  As everything done to him by his companions, Mystery endured it well.  But he made them aware just how much he disliked wearing little dog shoes, even if they were the most fashionable black that Vivi could find, they still looked ridiculous.  Even for a spirit as free as Mystery was, broken pieces of metal and dust coated glass was not worth weeks of sore, infected paws.

The group spread out as they moved along the rusted gate.  Weeds and large trees had jutted through the bars of the fence, which had time ago surrounded the welding plant back in its prime. In the unlikely event of visitors Lewis had parked off the road, several yards away from the main gate entrance that led into the plants open loading yards.  Over the years the entrance gate had corroded and fallen partially off its hinges, and no doubt many had entered the factory through this way.  There was a small path formed in the gravel among the weeds, and the Mystery Skulls used it just as well to enter.  Vivi viewed it as good luck omen, and that many before them had used the path to come and go safely from the factory, so of course they would too.  Thought, it just as well meant a minor danger of unwanted company in the factory, but due to rumors of hauntings it was a higher possibility that no one would risk a night time visit.

Corrupted asphalt ended at the chipped and worn cinder blocks, stretching further into the sky than the naked eye could see.  The day before the group had spent the first hour or two of the night hunting for a way in that they could all use, the group splint up in two separate direction and Arthur had eventually found an employee entrance near the utility shutters of the factories furthest side.  Arthur had made an effort to hide the fact he found the doors, until Lewis began prying.  The doors would be just around the corner of the building, and up a short set of cement steps.

Oil and grease permeated the air outside the factory, seeping through stones walls in its gradual escape.  It was too late in the year for crickets, but somewhere above a bird chattered out into the night, getting the last song of the evening harmonized before sleep.  Aside from their steps echoing with rich resonance off the sun bathed wall at their side, the air had a tranquil vapor that seemed to hover just over the groups shoulders.  It wasn’t haunting, more unwelcome but less of an ominous presence as result of the absence of the living.

Arthur stumbled in his step and turned his gaze off from the group and scanned over the open road that picked at their side.  He could just make out the amber outline of the vans roof through the trees and brush as the sun was falling and the air darkened around his eyes.  Vivi paused to look at him, but Lewis kept walking with Mystery following.  No one said a word, and once Arthur was done or felt better, he turned and resumed his march.

“Sometimes,” Arthur murmured, head lowered, “I swear, I sometimes hear things.”

Vivi walked beside him watching his downcast face.  “Voices?” she asked.  Arthur shook his head, somewhat timidly.  “What then?”  Arthur raised his shoulder and dropped them, but made no comment.  Vivi pressed no more questions, but hurried in her steps.

The factory was a tall, single story.  Lewis had already pushed the door in and was entering the near black atmosphere that pooled within the oily walls.  He could detect the high ceiling and the ancient shutters, where light and wispy clouds formed above the broken spaces in the ceiling.  Steel beams crisscrossed in jagged rusted pyramids, and cables or frayed electrical cords hung down in tatters from above.  Large drums and tanks dotted the large floor below, a few of te long industrial tables stretched across the concrete expanse. Rusted and broken tools remained on top, and even a few leaves from the outside world had fluttered within. Footsteps scrapped at his back, and Lewis jerked away as Vivi and Arthur crept in.

Vivi clicked on her flashlight and ran the cold blue beam over the gray and crusty tools – Bunsen cords, metal rods, sheets of metal, all crumbling into the cement floor.

“I think I saw the office,” Arthur began.  He shielded his eyes when Vivi turned to him, nearly catching his face with her flashlight.  “I’m not sure, I didn’t actually go into it.”  He snapped on his own flashlight and turned the yellow beam down on Mystery, as the dog led the way.  “Unless that ghost made a point to hint about where we’re supposed to go.”

“No,” Vivi said, as she began following Arthur.  “Let’s see what you found first.”

It was some distance through the factory, towards the front side. Along the way Arthur would breathe onto his knuckles and rub at his bad shoulder with his free hand.  At odd intervals Vivi would lift the camera and take a picture, and occasionally she would share her find with someone, most the time it was Lewis as he would prompt first.  Arthur didn’t like to be reminded of the things he couldn’t readily see. Mystery pad alongside the group and sometimes barking at a distant shape huddled beside a wall or large tank, shadows lurking that Vivi missed, or Mystery would pause and turn his attention into a particular direction and perk his ears high.

“That looks like the office,” Arthur had said, when they reached the bottom steps that rose to a higher story.  It wasn’t so much a higher story as it was a small apartment that overlooked a large open section of the lower chamber.  Arthur estimated this portion of the layout was designed in mind for the more important, high key projects.  Ruble had fallen to the floor from the underside, and when they reached the top landing they could identify a large cracked window further back from the railing that would view across the open floor below.  What glass remained was cracked and coated in a thick film, and the rusted frame was bent at jagged angles within the mortar wall.

Somehow throughout the years the door had remained locked, or rusted shut.  The group ventured into the low ceiling alcove, Vivi trying the door before she stepped aside and shined her light on the doors knob.  “Arthur, can you?”

Arthur stepped up and slumped off his backpack, he rubbed a finger over the tarnished plate illuminated in the blue light and hummed to himself.  Mystery padded up to sit beside Arthur, as Arthur rummaged through the sack and pulled out a chisel and hammer.  “Can you move a little to my left?” the mechanic asked.  “Other left.  Thanks.” Arthur put the chisel beside the plate in the doorframe and gave a few sharp blows.  When the plate came off, Arthur examined the interior of the lock and deadbolt.  Lewis watched as Arthur went back to his backpack, and pulled out a sharp pick. Lewis looked away as the harsh blows came, then a click.  “Got it.” Arthur shoved the door with his shoulder until it inched open, a peeling squeal came from the rusted hinges as he moved the stubborn metal panel.  Vivi moved beside Arthur and helped him wrestled the door open enough that they could slip through.

“Whoa, watch it,” Vivi said, as they stepped into the office.  Several steps from the door and beneath the window was a large hole, at its depths was the carnage of ruble they had viewed on the ground below.  “Careful where you step,” she further cautioned, as she crossed the spacious room. “Lew, can I have that bag now?”

Lewis had stepped into the room and was looking down into the open wound of the collapsed floor, and onto the broken teeth of ruble staring up at him.  “Yeah, here,” he said, and passed the bag over.  He turned and stared into the swirling murk and dull rust, before he turned away.  “I don’t think I’m gonna be much help,” he admitted, as he watched Vivi explore around the room.  

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.  “You can light candles, can’t you?”  Vivi held up one of the tall cheap white candles sticks she bought in bulk.

Lewis looked at it, and smirked as he looked past the candle to Vivi. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea either.”  He caught Arthur’s movement, as Arthur glanced over unaware his stare was caught. Lewis broke his gaze and snapped to attention, when a small camping lamp was tossed his way from Vivi.  The lamp almost popped out/through Lewis hands as he grabbed for it.

“Turn that on, then,” she said, before she stepped over to Arthur with a collection of candles bunched together in one fist.  Lewis turned the small lamp on and the bright LED covered the immediate area where Vivi had elected where they would begin their work. Vivi pointed out the broken wall scattered over the floor, and Arthur took out a stiff little brush to sweep away the larger bits of dust and rocks.  As they submerged themselves in the routine, Lewis saw it fit to set the lamp down on the only available surface, the floor, and gave the room a fleeting scan.

The office was spacious despite its deterioration, enough that the group was not bumping into each other as they worked around.  A side wall of the office had fallen across the room, large chunks of rusted metal and concrete made for an interesting stand for a section of the little shrine Vivi had constructed.  She had two notebooks out on the floor and alternated between flipping through the separate pages, and marked shapes onto the flat sides of cement that were available as well as on the floor itself with a piece of graphite. Arthur had the lighter and was pressing wax down and fixing candles where Vivi directed.  The little electric lamp placed near their workspace covered the area with soft white light, shimmering occasionally as Mystery paced the floor back and forth eagerly watching the work of his companions.  At some point Mystery seated himself down and continued to supervise, as Vivi sets out a thin silver dish and places a bundle of sage on that between two burning candles.

Lewis moves away and again finds himself looking down through rebar and wood of the broken floor.  It ebbed something in him that he didn’t want to feel, but he couldn’t avert his gaze. The rugged folded edges helped, made it seem less intimidating.  He focused on the dark that was reaching, clawing to his limbs and chest.  Until there was movement.  Another ghost below, looking up at him.  Lewis watched the other, and the other spirit stares back up appearing much like a living person, but for those eyes.  Lewis was about to ask a question, when the ghost dissolved from sight, body first followed by the polished ribs.

“Have you started yet?” Lewis inquired.  He turns to Vivi as she shakes her head.  “Right.  We might be gathering an audience.”  But there was no indication where the other spirit had gone, or why it appeared.  He doubted that was Fritz, though he had no reason to have an opinion yet.  Lewis backed away from the broken floor, the weightless and dislocation that mingled in his core becoming unbearable.  He looked to Vivi and Arthur as they mingled about in perfect unison and felt a mild pang, a whisper of disassociation twisting about their presence.  As if he had become a spectator watching some scene unfold. The notion made him uneasy and Lewis felt the urge to say something, even a stupid comment about how nice Vivi’s hair looked with the shadows hovering over her, but he couldn’t.  The lamp beside Lewis dimmed, and he moved across the room away from it as Vivi and Arthur glanced up.

“We’re ready to start,” Vivi announced.  “Are you okay, Lew?”

He nods, as he spun around to look at the lamp and distract himself from the symbols shimmering under the light.  His voice popped and sputtered before he managed a word. “Yes.  Just, the other spook.”  He intertwined his fingers and set his hands together in front of him.  

Vivi nodded and turned back to her work.  “Just say anything,” she said as invitation.  “Don’t leave me in the dark.  Got it?”  Lewis tilts his head towards her and nodded.  Satisfied by this, Vivi moved to position herself behind the small circles drawn on the floor in front of the cracked slabs of concrete, where the rust and dust had been brushed away for more figures etched with graphite.  Vivi moved her backpack off her shoulders and opened it up.  Arthur moved to just behind one side of her shoulder, and Mystery placed himself a little behind and between Arthur and Vivi.  “Could you come join us, then?”  From her backpack Vivi pulled out another candle from her seemingly endless inventory, and a bundle of cloth.  Lewis watches as Vivi unwraps the cigarette tin from the cloth as he moves to stand near the group.  Vivi shoves the provision backpack aside, out of the way and Arthur leans over to hand her the lighter.

“Does the air feel a lot colder?” he asked.  Arthur glanced around, and coils down into his vest.  “I mean it.  It feels a lot colder than that other night we were here.”  He blows into his hands again and rubs at his shoulder.

“You really need to consider just wearing your sleeves down,” Vivi remarks.  She shuffles the cloth and candle into one hand, and with a piece of graphite in her other hand, Vivi marks a rune on the floor and sets the cigarette tin on the symbol. “It’s not good for you to get sick all the time.”  She sets the cloth aside, then takes the candle and lights the wick.  

“We’re calling, Fritz Owen,” she begins, initiating the séance. Vivi drops melting wax from the candle onto the cement beside the sage on the dish and sets the candle down on the edge of the circle between the cigarette tin and the unlit sage.  “Fritz Owen.  We would like to speak to you if possible.  We insist you make your presence known.”  She turns the backpack over in order to reach a side pocket and slips the lighter inside, and paused briefly when a distant clatter occurs. Slowly, Vivi pulls the camera from the bag and over onto her lap where she sits.  She glimpses over her shoulder up to Lewis, and then resumed, “We have an item you once owned in life.  Are you not compelled by our call?”  Vivi focuses on the tranquil burn of the candlelight glistening off the marred side of the tin.

Arthur shifts where he’s seated on his knees.  He looks over as Mystery sets his paw on his thigh, and Arthur reaches over to the dog’s neck and gives him a scratch.  There is no draft in the musty office, the candle flames burn steady in the absence of disturbance and thought.  But the air… shifts, or changes.  He can feel that, the sense of it is uncanny as it bore into his spine. Arthur’s certain the shadows at the edges of the light have thickened, as if the grease that clung to the air was now swelling into something… irritated.  He feels a tickle in his spin and trembles.  “God, it is cold.”  Vivi hushes him.

“Would you like to borrow my sweater?” she asks.  Arthur shakes his head.  Lewis is looking at him again.

“Focus, Vi,” Lewis says, instead.

“Right, right, I got this.”  Vivi takes a deep breath, and resumes, “We know about you, Fritz Owen. You worked in the welding factory sometime during in the 1920s.  You had a wife and a child,” she says, and paused.  There was another sound, somewhere, a far off clatter echoed.  She couldn’t discern if it was the sound of the factory decaying, or some animal scurrying around in the rafters overhead. She heard Arthur shudder, but ignored him.  “Your wife, or someone close to you, gave you an item of sentimental value.  We now have that possession.  Will you not show yourself?”  All is quiet, even the hiss of the candles compliant to the flat air have a no perceivable trill.

Arthur stiffens.  A voice, barely audible but he could make out the echo on the words.  No one, not even Mystery gazing off into the dark shattered wall of the connecting room, reacts to the utterance.  “You guys,” he murmurs.  “Guys.  Vivi. Did you hear that?  Please tell me you heard that?”

The answer is unanimous between Vivi and Lewis.  “No,” “Nada.”  And Vivi goes on to ask, with interest, “What’d you hear?”

Arthur shakes his head, and takes his hand from Mystery’s shoulders to rub at his own neck.  “1924,” he said.  “Something about 1924, I think.  That’s all I heard.”  Arthur brings both arms up to rub at his shoulders, and the soreness in his remaining left arm.

Lewis didn’t like this.  He scanned the room over but could detect nothing, and saw nothing evident in the shadows.  All he felt was the pull, and the urge to get away from the writing on the floor.  It was suggestions and nothing more he reminds himself, but it made him uncomfortable.  It could as easily be his sense of nerves and reflections as anything, but he wouldn’t attribute it to ‘phantom’ paranoia.  Or was it because there was another seeking?  Was Fritz hiding because of him?

“What would that mean?” Arthur whimpered.  “1924?”

Vivi ponders over the date.  “Well, that was during the Roaring twenties.  When Fritz would have lived and would be working,” she said, pondering. “It was considered one of the best times to be an American.  A lot of cultural mingling, jobs, the economy was booming.”  Vivi’s voice became quiet.  “Up until the Crash of Wall Street.  But that has nothing to do with Fritz.”  She looked over at Arthur briefly, then looks back to the cigarette tin as if to speak with it directly.  “Fritz Owen. Did you die in 1924?”

Even before Vivi had finished her question, Arthur was fidgeting and looking around.  “You heard it that time, right?” he asks, pulling his arms tighter around his sides. “I’m not going crazy?”

“You’re not going crazy,” Lewis says, tilting towards Arthur. “The spirit just chose you for some reason to transition answers.”  

Arthur gave a low whine in his throat.  “WHY?  I am the worst person!”

Lewis looks away, toward the dark section of the open adjacent office Mystery had remained focused on.  “I won’t disagree,” he mutters.

Arthur glares at Lewis, and sinks down into his vest collar a little. “That was an unnecessary comment.” Lewis shrugs showing his palms, and folds his hands behind his back.

“Art, focus,” Vivi said.  She tugs on Arthur’s shoulder to get his attention.  “What’d the spirit say?”

Arthur blinks at her.  “No.  Just… ‘no.’ I guess he didn’t die in 1924?” Arthur winces when Mystery leans into his side, pressing into his bad shoulder.  “Hey bud.”

“Okay,” Vivi says, and rubs her hands together.  She raises her hands near one of the candles and resumes. “Fritz Owen.  When did you die?  Do you remember how?” Vivi begins massaging her palms together, until Lewis crouches beside her and takes her hands in his.  “Anything, Arthur?”

Arthur shakes his head as he glances around.  “No voice,” he says.  “No… sound.”  Arthur looks away from Vivi and Lewis.  “What!”

Lewis glances up in the direction Arthur is staring, and sees a gray shadow in the furthest side of the room gazing back.  Arthur flops to his side and scoots away from the candles glow and the marks on the floor, as the dark shape drifts further into the room. The shade stops to stare at the four, its bright eyes going over each in turn.  It is vaguely shapeless and more like a dirty sheet, a soft white glow comes from its chest.  It moves closer to the cluster, much to Arthur’s dismay, and sways back then lowers to the floor where it seems to sink down into the cement.  Its bright eyes continue to stare around at them, as the candle light wavers across its pale contrast against the dark gloom lingering around the electric lamp.

“That’s,” Vivi begins, edging out of Lewis hands.  “That isn’t Fritz, is it?” She cocked an eyebrow at the small shroud as it bobbed up out of the floor.

Lewis glares at the little spirit as it glides up and seems to examine the display of melting candles set out on the cement and broken slabs littered around them.  “I don’t… no, it isn’t,” he says.  The spirits glimmering chest pulses in time with the locket hidden under his sweater, but otherwise the nondescript takes no interest in his presence at all.  “I think he’s just curious.”  He shuffles on his knees, but stops himself from rising when he notes the cigarette tin and markings on the floor.  “Or maybe just scoping us out.  He might be a friend to Fritz.”

When Vivi reaches out to the gray shade, the spirit drifts towards her.  The candles flutter under the spirit as glides backwards from her hands.  With a flutter of its shadowy edges and a sputter from the lamp, the ghost rises up and fades into the ceiling above.  Arthur stares up until the shadow is gone, then heaves a thick breath.

“Fritz Owen,” Vivi goes on, with a small sigh.  “Do you plan to appear before us?  Will you talk to all of us, and not just our friend?  That is very rude.”

Mystery perks his ears and moves away from Arthur’s curled up body. Mystery stares past Vivi to the window and gives a yap.  There’s a sound of snapping, followed by a dull clatter as a a small section of the window cracks out of the marred and twisted frame.  Lewis stands up but doesn’t move from his spot, in response to his movement the candles sway and dance causing the thick shapes mingling over the floor and walls to quiver under his presence.  He sees nothing and no further activity was made apparent.

“Are you with us now, Fritz Owen?” Vivi questions.  She looks up to Lewis when he looks back at her, and Vivi shakes her head.  Lewis turns away, and Vivi continues, “We are calling you, Fritz Owen.  You are compelled to obey.”

The dull air holds its countenance, but there is something new. A change in the thickness of the oppressive atmosphere, as if the factory had come alive for a brief and silent moment to expel a long lost sigh of decay.  What glass that had fallen through the collapsed floor crinkles, tinkling down over rebar and wood.

Mystery gives another bark, right as Arthur shrieks.  In the furthest corner of the room, near where the nondescript shade had manifested, now stood a dark figure cloaked by the shadows repelled by the light.  The spirits eyes glint white deep in its dark eye sockets, gray hair is stylized in an undercut and the longer top upon the scalp is combined back.  A portion of the suit around the shoulders has faded revealing bleached bones, and a white heart pulses dimly over the dark tatters draped over the ribs.  The exposed remains of bone are coated in a black cloak of ravels that seem to seep from the shadows among the figure.  What is most terrible about this apparition is the ugly frayed rope around the lingering collar of the suit.  The remains of a noose.

Arthur is muttering, sinking down behind Vivi as she stares at the spirit in the corner.

“Why are you here, Fritz Owen?”  Vivi asks, unblinking.  “Why do you remain?”  

There is no sound, or none that can be heard.  The spirit soaks back into the shadows as if it had never been. In the distance a crash comes, audibly relatable to a large structure that was shoved over or thrown aside.  

Arthur calms down somewhat when he sees the shadow absent, and pokes his head up from where he was bent down.  “He says, he is not happy that we are here,” Arthur whispers, to Vivi. “He wants us to leave.”  

“Well,” Vivi huffs, “We’re not leaving until you make yourself more hospitable.  We had to buy KitKat’s and coffee beans, and we didn’t get to try any of them.”  She glanced around, but saw no indication of the spirit.  “After this though, we’re gonna try it.  Together. We were told it’s good, by your great-great-great grandson.”

“I think it’s just great-great grandson,” Arthur says.  He paused and frowned.  “Fuck.  I can taste chocolate and coffee!”  He licks his lips.  He couldn’t deny the rich flavor on his tongue, it was clearly there and on his breath. And….  “It’s… it’s kind of good, actually.”  Arthur smacks his lips.

Viv sniffs at the air, and looks over at Lewis standing near them. “I can smell coffee?” she said. “Like, from a bag.  Fresh beans.  It’s like I’m standing in a Starbucks.”  She beams at him.  “It’s so weird, one minute this place smells like grease and yuck, and now I’m craving coffee.”  She sniffs a little more and squeals, barely able to hold still.  “Incredible.”

Lewis makes no comment, but smiles.  This was a refreshing change.

“That’s very impressive, Fritz Owen,” Vivi continues. She adjusts her glasses on her nose, and shifts her legs on the grit digging uncomfortably into her knees. “We know you killed yourself in this office, Fritz Owen.  And we know what happened to cause you to do what you did.”

Mystery looks back at Arthur as he quivers and lowers down more, hiding his face beside his shoulder.  “‘You know nothing,’” murmurs Arthur.

Lewis looks over at the trembling figure, a warning sparked in him. He could feel Arthur, pick out the parts that were him and found nothing too distressing or mangled.  It was just Arthur being frazzled and spiked, but he didn’t like that part.  The tone his voice had taken.  “Try us,” Lewis hissed.  He looked away from Arthur and scanned the office over.  “Tell us.  But leave him alone.  You can talk to us, we’ll listen.”  The dark in the room seemed to pull back and lighten, but he wasn’t certain if the others had caught it.

“He… doesn’t want to,” Arthur says.  He leans up as Mystery pushes his nose under his chin.  “He doesn’t trust us.  I think it takes too much out of him.”  Mystery crawls over Arthur’s lap and looks into the far side of the room, where the two spirits had appeared from.

Something was different, something that Lewis had missed. A twinge of pain crept into Arthur, but faded out.  “I get it,” Lewis said, watching Arthur as he slumped down beside Vivi.  “He’s weak.  He can’t do much but lurk and talk.”  Something faded behind Arthur, a face and dark eyes glowering.  Lewis missed the glance Vivi shot his way. There was another resonance somewhere, a clang of hollow metal.  “Then you throw a tantrum.  You can’t even do it with us watching.”  Arthur makes a sound, a low groan as he huddles down.

Vivi looks away from Arthur and stares across the room.  She raises the camera up and flashes a picture. She stands up beside Lewis as she activates the image viewer, and shows the screen to him.  Something inside Lewis feels cold, as if his soul was squirming inside his ribs. From the broken ceiling beside the window dangles a noose, and a shadow hung from it.

“Cool,” Vivi murmurs.  Lewis says nothing.  The collective group winces when a chair crashes through the room from the adjacent office, and splinters against the floor close to where they stand.  On the other side of the room poised beneath the memory of the noose, the ghost hovers within the vacant wound in the floor.

“I want you to leave now,” it hisses.

It takes a beat for the collected to recover, and adjust to the reappearance of the spirit.  Arthur mumbles something under his breath, as Lewis shrugs off the rash incident.  “So, he speaks without a puppet,” he goads, crossing his arms over his chest.  Lewis smirks when Fritz glowers up at him.

“Talk to us for a bit,” Vivi offers, “And we’ll leave you alone. That’s all we want.”  She lowers the camera in her hands when the spirit turns his attention to her.  The spirit says nothing, just watches with its bright white eyes.  “Why are you here?” she prompts, when nothing is first uttered.

The spirit raises his shape above the broken floor and leans to one side. “Because you won’t stop calling me,” it said.  His focus falls to the marks on the floor, or perhaps the cigarette tin set there.  

“You know what I mean, Fritz Owen,” Vivi retorts.

“And stop using my full name,” Fritz says, gaze never leaving the floor near Vivi’s feet.  

She replies, “Only if you don’t leave.  Just answer our questions.”  Fritz fades somewhat as she takes another picture, and Vivi asks him to answer.  “Are you tethered?” she continues.  “Is there something we can help you resolve?”  

“There must be a reason,” Lewis picks up, and gestures to Frtiz. “Don’t you find it oppressive, waiting around this place?  Even if you didn’t die here?  But you did…. This can’t be by your choice.”

Fritz makes a sound, a cracked chortle.  “I do like it here.”  He raises himself to set his heels onto the edge of the wrecked floor and perched there, with his ragged arms folded behind his back.  He looks from Lewis to Vivi, Fritz’s eyes dim in their sockets. “That’s ALL you need to know.”

Arthur looks at Mystery when Mystery head bumps his bad shoulder gently.  The dog looks over his ambers glasses into Arthur’s eyes, and Arthur blinks as he turns to peer at the spook carefully.  

“This is where I belong,” Frtiz goes on.  “Call me sentimental, but I don’t want to leave for… whatever. It’s not that I’m afraid or anything, you understand.”  He drops his attention back to the tarnished metal case surrounded by the markings and candles.

“You’re lying,” Arthur mumbles.  Fritz peers beyond Vivi to Arthur.  “Viv, he’s lying.  He’s hiding something.”  Arthur sits up more as Mystery moves to stand in front of him.  

Vivi looks back to the spirit, and asks, “You wanna try again?” Without response Fritz dims out of sight.  Vivi sighs with exasperation.  “Fritz Owen,” she calls, partly to the floor, “we are not done here.  I’m calling you back, Fritz—” She’s shoved and falls backwards onto Arthur.  Mystery yelps when she tumbles over him, and he scrambles away barking at the shadows crawling around them when one of the candles tips over and rolls on the floor.

“Vi!”  Lewis spins and ducks down to grab her off Arthur.  Mystery is still snarling at lingering shrouds, and spitting at the odd shapes twisting on the broken ceiling above them.  “That was uncalled for,” he hissed, voice low and seething.  When he moves to pull Vivi up onto her feet, Fritz is standing there glaring down on the huddled group.  The noose hangs down the spirits bleached bone knit front, and the candlelight on the floor causes his shadow to stretch around them, outward from the black cloak slung around his glinting collar and shoulder blades.

“This is your last warning!” The spirit booms, eyes blazing. “Leave or I’ll give you a reason to run. No more questions.  No negotiations.  You’ll cling to that hope your lot makes it beyond these walls without me tied to your heels.”

Flames gush from Lewis collar when he twists away from Vivi on the floor, and he lunges up at the looming dark figure.  Magenta fire rolls from Lewis’ cuffs as he swipes out at Fritz, the sudden movement jostles the sunglasses off Lewis’ face and the glasses clatter to the floor at his feet as he rears up over the other spirit, eyes blazing from the pits of their black sockets.  Fritz recoils from the violent motion and smoothly perches a distance back from Lewis staring, a lack of comprehension evident in the bleached visage.

“You’ve done something,” Lewis says, standing between his group and the other entity.  Magenta embers crackle as they hover defensively beside his sizzling shoulders, blistering the poor edges of his blackened sweater.  “There’s a reason you’re stalling.  If you tell us, then maybe – and that’s a strained maaayybe – we’ll let you be.  But my strongest advice would be that you Do. NOT. Lie.”  Fritz says nothing, just stares at Lewis with an expression akin to unease.  After a terse pause the skull and bones fade from the room and Fritz’s presence is gone. “Damn it.”

“You okay?” Vivi asks. ��She touches the pale patch of skin on Arthur’s head.  He brushes her hand off.

“Yes, still in one piece,” Arthur says, as he raises his prosthetic.  “Which is good.”  He takes Mystery by the collar as the mutt tries to pad by again, nervous and snuffling at the dust kicked up.  “Settle down, bud.  We’re okay.” Mystery wags his tail and leans up to lick Arthur’s face.

Vivi stands beside Lewis, still poised and tense facing the vacant air the other ghost had occupied.  She sets a wary hand on Lewis’ shoulder, gently.  “Hey?  He didn’t know you were a ghost?” she poses, and  prods at the scorch threads around Lewis’ neck and stares.

It took a while for Lewis to let his agitation diminish, and he turns to Vivi.  “Apparently,” he said, looking to the tatters of the sweater on his arm and the remains of his smoldered glove.  Vivi noticed his suite, now exposed through the open splotches in the sweater.

“How does that work?” she asked, looking up at his face.  In their recent travels, Lewis had neglected to remove any of his physical articles since visiting the Owen’s.  He hadn’t bothered or either forgot, the matter on its own was unimportant so long as Lewis could look human, or appear Alive, among other people.  Little by little it began to dawn on Vivi that she too had forgotten of Lewis unique state for a short while, if only briefly, though her focus had been diverted onto the séance.  The realization spread a tinge of guilty through her.

“I must be very convincing,” Lewis said, with a smirk. “And you were complaining I needed to recover faster.  I wasn’t even startled.”

“Yeah,” Vivi agreed, lost in her own thoughts.  “Fritz couldn’t see you coming.”  Recalling their current subject, she turned to Arthur and knelt beside him.  “Art, what was that?” she asked, setting a hand on his bad shoulder.  “Did someone talk to you?”

Arthur seemed to melt under her hand and lowered his head.  He set his flesh hand on Mystery’s shoulder and gently rocked the dog crouched beside him.  “The accidents,” he said, voice low.  “I was… I nearly forgot.  Remember? The one major incident that started it. The terrible accidents.”

Vivi looked away, to the cigarette case and the candle slowly going out beside it.  “Accidents,” Vivi repeats, as her mind gathers back the obscure details they had collected.  “1924. Faulty equipment following the… oh god.”  She stood up and turned to Lewis, holding her hands up, one hand still held the camera.  “The accidents,” she began.  “The worst, the freak accidents only happened after Fritz’s suicide.”

Lewis looks away, to the ugly ruin of a hole and the glimmering rebar and glass within.  “We don’t know that for sure,” he says.  “The equipment was old.  Even Fritz suffered injury from it.”

“He wouldn’t know any better,” Vivi said.  She ducks around trying to find Lewis eyes where they had diverted onto the floor.  “His family said he was… broken, mentally shot.  What does the loss of sight and hearing do to a person?  He killed himself in this room.  He can’t find peace on his own.”  Lewis winced at her words.  “He has to be expelled from here.  He can’t stay.”  Vivi takes his chin and pulls his face to meet her eyes.  “It’s not good for him, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Lewis answers.  Though, he turns away as Vivi slips to the floor beside Arthur and drags her bag close, she begins rummaging through bottles, some rolls of paper, and yet more candles.  He knows she’s taking stock, deciding what would be best implemented for expelling a spirit through exorcism.  Lewis isn’t certain what he feels, but he knows Vivi is right.  A wandering specter lost and confused was one matter, but a suicide was a whole other miasma of potential corruption and disaster.  But—

A low grinding sound came from overhead.  Mystery goes ballistic, barking and jerking at Arthur’s leg dragging him across the floor, despite the protests of Arthur trying to shield himself with his satchel.  Lewis jerks back grabbing Vivi and Arthur, while Mystery remains tangled with Arthur’s pants leg.  A strangled yelp wrenches from Arthur’s lungs, as Lewis slings the group aside. A section of the roof cracks and drops, pieces of cinderblock slam down over the chunks of wall across the floor and the cigarette tin, as with the Vivi’s personal bag that had been left in the panic.

Lewis turns back once he’s assured the others are wary of their surroundings, in the event of another attempt on their life.  “At least we didn’t promise to return the tin,” Lewis mutters.

Vivi’s expression of horror deflates as the dust settles, and the crackles of mortar fades.  “He’s definitely getting exorcised now.”  She creeps away from Lewis, the only light now available being the lamp still seated on the floor.  She stares at the pile of bricks as Lewis approaches, with Arthur and Mystery close behind him.  “This is going to be difficult without the anchor.”  She pulls the provision bag over her shoulder and ponders.  The lamp on the floor sputters, then goes out. “Shit.”  Mystery snorts when he sneezes in the dark, scaring Arthur a bit.

Arthur jerks his flashlight from his back pocket of his pants and clicks on the light.  He turns the yellow beam from Mystery, over to the wreckage and waves away a bit of the lingering silt.  “I say we call it a night,” he offers, and coughs.  Arthur slinks back when Lewis glares at him, eyes burning in the dark outline he stood within.  “Or not? Vi?  Back me up here.”

“The tin wasn’t an anchor,” Lewis said.  He folds his arms behind his back, and felt the odd unevenness of his covered arm and the tatters of the sweater on the other.  “It was a bind.  It’s wrecked now, we can’t use it.”  Lewis paused, as Vivi turns to him.  She had her flashlight on and was shining the soothing blue light just under his collar. “We’ll need something else.”  He knew what she was looking at now.

“Lew.  Go on,” Vivi encourages.  She didn’t know how hard this was for him.

“He’ll carry something HE cherished in life.  It’s,” Lewis hesitates, and glanced over the room when another sound, a tinkling echoed in the other open space of the office. “It’s not real, not in a physical sense. But to him it will be.”

Vivi nods.  “Okay,” she says.  “Then we should go and find Fritz, or whatever this thing is he cherished.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Arthur begins.

“I agree for once,” Lewis states.  “Beside, you don’t even—” Lewis’ voice rattles off, when Vivi pressed a finger to his lips.

“It’s the heart, right?” Vivi accuses.  She drops the flashlight from his collar, and takes her hand from his face.  “All the ghosts we’ve seen – every single one – even the deadbeats have one.  Don’t give me that look, Lew.  You were very protective of your heart when we first encountered you in your mansion.”

Lewis drew back from Vivi and raised a hand to his chest. “We’ll,” he mumbled, and his voice had the odd crackle to it.  “I can’t say yes or no.  But don’t take it lightly, Fritz will be more than willing to harm to keep you away from it.”

“I know,” Arthur says.  And Lewis looks at him and can see Arthur’s eyes quite clearly, and Lewis detects something pacifying in Arthur’s aura.  “That part you don’t remember.”  The statement is missed by Lewis, but he nods slowly as it comes back. Arthur remembers and it’s a sensation Lewis tries to remove himself from.

“That’s good enough,” Vivi said, as she looked between Lewis and Arthur.  “Then let’s go.”  Lewis reaches over and takes her arm.  She wrenches her arm back out of his grip.  “No Lew!”

“You’re not going to look for him, I am!” Lewis’s voice echoed, the resonance clipping over the walls in the office.  Vivi opened her mouth to protest, but Lewis raised himself more and cut off her voice.  “This guy wrecks walls, and tampers with machinery,” Lewis goes on with harsh chatters, his eyes brightening within the dark pits of his eye sockets.  “Remember those gremlins?  This’ll be ten times worse.”

Arthur cringes beside Mystery and pulls the dog close to him. “Let’s just let them duke it out, huh?” Mystery opens his mouth to pant, his breath misting in front of his face. A few times Lewis tried to turn Vivi around or grab Vivi, and she would shove Lewis back and Arthur would wince.  As this went on, Arthur sighed and pressed his face into the dog’s fur.  He says, “Sometimes I think you’re the only one that understands me.”  Mystery yaps.

Lewis tries to put his hands on Vivi’s shoulders.  “I don’t—” Vivi swats his hands away, and he retreats that time.

“Lew!”  Vivi snaps, and sets her free hand over the locket hidden under the sweater.  “He’s sacred of you.  He’s weak and scared of us all.  He can’t harm us unless we let him, and we won’t.  Right Arthur?”  

 Arthur perks up from cuddling Mysery and nods.  “Yes?  Wait, no!” He tries to stand, and slips back to his knees beside Mystery.  “He’s dangerous Viv!”

“One collapsed ceiling!” she sneered.  “Whoop De Doo!  I’ve seen worse!  WE’VE dealt with worse!”  Arthur goes quiet and doesn’t comment.  Vivi turns back to Lewis.  “I am not going to let you go out there and do this on your own!  I won’t.  I watched you do that once, and if I can help it I will not sit by and watch you do that again!  Do you understand what I’m saying?”  Lewis lowered his hands from Vivi as she heaved a few gasps and collected herself. “Now listen here,” she resumed, voice calmer, “Fritz will play keep away, because he doesn’t belong here and he knows it!  He’s broken. We’ll find that artifact, and perform the exorcism in this room.”  

Lewis looks away.  Maybe. Maybe she is right.  Maybe.  He couldn’t say no to her face now.  The sensation crept back into him, dislocation and weightless in an essence that troubled his tangible shape.  Lewis crackles, and speaks, “You’re right.  But, give me a second.”  He leaves Vivi and returns to the ruble of the roof that had fallen over the floor and the marks Vivi had carefully laid down.  The floor shifts not from his weight, but from the blocks of bricks and wood he shoves away until he uncovers a section of the floor.  “Arthur,” Lewis said, and beckons with a finger.  “I need your hands for a moment.”  

Arthur glances from Vivi to Mystery.  He stands and shuffles over to Lewis.  “It’s nothing dangerous, right?”  Arthur scuttles back when the floor creaks under his weight, he gives Lewis feet a look where Lewis is poised, weightless, beside the wreckage.

“I’m right here,” Lewis said, and beckons with his hand.  “Just get the tin out.”  He hovers back as Arthur, still jittery, peers into the opening in the cement chunks.  Arthur uses his flesh arm to reach through the pinned stones and without much trouble he wrenched free the shattered halves of the warped tin.  “It’s broken?  Good.  Hold up the pieces separately and close your eyes.”

Arthur gives Lewis a distrustful scowl.  “What?  Why?”

Lewis’ eyes brighten with irritation.  “Arthur,” his voice comes wispy, almost in a cheerful melody. “Do it.  You owe me.”

“Why?” Arthur says, voice breaking.

“Doritos,” Lewis supplied.  He waits as Arthur appears to want another go with the argument, but Arthur relents.  Arthur sticks the flashlight into his back pocket, and takes a piece of the tin in either hand.  “You two might want to avert your eyes too.”  Lewis glimpses Vivi and her incredulous expression, and Lewis is compelled to cool her unease.  “I’m not going to hurt him.”  Lewis touches the collar of his suit, compelling the heart to twirl free from his chest and hover at his fingertips.  “But I don’t think you want to wind up like Fritz.”  When Vivi and Mystery had shut their eyes, Lewis guides the locket between the two pieces of the cigarette tin.  

As the locket hovers between the warped pieces of metal, Lewis raised a hand and faced a palm over the twin tin pieces.  His eye sockets flare bright magenta and for a brief moment his skull is visible through the skin of his façade, bright flames flicker up from his suit collar.  The remaining scraps of the gloves burn away when pink fire engulfs his hands, projecting a coal red symbol onto the surface of the tin.

Arthur gives a high pitched yelp when he accidentally opens his eyes, and catches sight of the eerie fire and skull face of Lewis. “Geez!  Fuck.”  He dropped the tins as he stumbled backwards into the furthest wall.  “Thank you for the warning!”

“You’re welcome,” Lewis rattles.  He looks down on the tins as the fire at his hands dies out, and the surface of the bent metal cools.  Lewis glances at Vivi as she approached with Mystery beside her.  “We’ve dealt with worse,” he said, as he admires the locket drifting at his fingertips.

“Yeah,” Vivi said.  She reaches out to the locket, until Lewis catches it by its base and turns to her. He doesn’t move as Vivi reaches over and sets her hand upon the softly pulsing heart gleaming in the gloom.  The bluish tint fades to golden under her touch. “You’re not gonna lose us.”

“Not gonna lose you,” Lewis hums.  When Vivi lowers her hand, Lewis returns the locket to the front of his suit hidden behind the sweater.  He took a piece of the crumpled tin and gave it to Vivi, then took the other broken half. Arthur was still seated against the wall, rubbing at his flesh hand.  “Are you hurt?”

Arthur shook his head and stood up, ignoring Lewis outstretched hand. “I’m fine,” he said.  “Just surprised, that’s all.”  He looked up at Lewis, before he was handed the remaining half of the tin.  “Is this some sort of protection?” Arthur ventures, as he examined the mark in the tin.

“I don’t know,” Lewis admits.  He glides after Vivi, who was already headed to the broken door.

“Then why all the flash and dazzle?” Arthur asked.  He hurried to catch up with them.  Mystery followed, and kept close to his heels.

“Fritz will not like it,” Lewis says.  He glides out of the door to stand with Vivi, and waits as Arthur and Mystery catch up.  “I used that symbol to… repel unwanted entities.  We’ll find out what happens.”

Arthur paused to look at the tin again, and was reminded of the crypt and the coffin.  It did make sense, but maybe not to Lewis as much as Arthur had decided it should. “Wait,” Arthur groaned, “are we going to splint up?  Guys, that’s a terrible idea!”

“It won’t be that bad,” Vivi insists.  She shines her light on Arthur’s chest when he begins to shake. “You and Mystery.  Watch each other’s backs, and above all don’t get separated.  You have a walkie-talkie, so don’t shut it off like you always do.”  Lewis smirked.  Arthur’s Achilles’ heel – he could run, he could evade, he could pick locks like nothing else in a pinch – but Arthur always and never failed to forget to turn on his walkie-talkie.   “Mystery, you’ll protect Arthur.”  Mystery barks, and trots to stand behind Arthur and pressed his side into the back of his companions trembling legs.  “Just don’t be afraid,” she says.  “If you need to, make some runes and a circle of salt.  You got this Artie.”

“I don’t,” Arthur whines.  Mystery barked and pranced around to Arthur’s front and hopped up to plant his front paws, in shoes, on Arthur’s thighs.  “You don’t know what you’re saying, Mystery.”  Mystery barked, insisting he did know.  But Arthur would rather be with Mystery than left alone with Lewis.

“You’ll be fine,” Lewis said.  “Don’t draw attention to yourself.  You’re good at that.”  Arthur mutters some words under his breath, but Lewis didn’t care for it.  “Remember the tin, but be careful.  There’s a chance you just might upset him with it.”

Lewis didn’t plan to let it come to that, and in a way, he wished Vivi was going along with Arthur.  When he found Fritz, and there was no doubt in Lewis’ intangible sense that he would, he didn’t plan to let the hostile spirit off before he managed to give Fritz a firm piece of the negative emotions brewing in his heated loathing.  For that little stunt in the office, Lewis vowed to find Fritz by any means available.  Even if it meant violating none corporeal laws, and endangering his own contentious state.

[juniperhillpatient]

Summary: Reddie sleepover with a side of spookiness and angst. Trigger warning for implied child neglect, pedophilia mention, and cursing - much milder than anything in the movie or book. Part two to THIS fic but it could also be a one-shot

*********************************

"And this is my favorite part! Look at all that blood!" Richie waved the comic in front of Eddie's face, pointing excitedly at the picture of the zombie on the page of the Tales From the Crypt comic. The zombie was oozing from every surface. Guts spilled from between exposed bones in the zombie's ribcage in pink and red globs, and Richie loved the disgustingness of it. "Isn't that just great!" Richie himself thought it was fantastic, but Eddie looked like his mind was somewhere else. 

Richie plopped down on the bed beside his friend, tossing the comic aside. He cleared his throat and spoke in his best old lady voice, mimicking the way the old lady who sometimes yelled at him for riding his bike over her grass sounded. "Alright, talk to Granny, Eddie Spaghetti, what's going on? Why are you being so quiet? Afraid the big bad zombie is going to climb right off this page and eat you up?" Richie grinned at Eddie, proud of his perfect impression, but his grin faded. It was no fun if Eddie didn't laugh like he usually did. "What's wrong Eds?" he asked in his normal voice. 

Eddie sighed, looking away, out the window. "Sorry, he said. It's a great comic, that zombie really is fantastic." Eddie paused, again staring out the window. It was dark outside, so there was nothing to see except the stars and the abandoned sidewalk across the street. Richie suddenly realized why the zombie disturbed Eddie so much. 

The leper. Eddie must still be thinking about that stupid leper. Richie felt a swell of anger. If he could, he would knock that stupid old hobo across his disgusting, rotten head.

"Look Eds." 

"Don't call me Eds, you know how I hate it." 

"Whatever Eddie Spaghetti." Eddie rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet this time, waiting for Richie to continue. "The leper isn't going to get you." 

"How do you know?" 

"I just know my good boy," Richie was now speaking in a British guy voice. He didn't really know how a British guy applied to the situation, but it sure was nice to be somebody else when he had no clue what to say. "I abso-positive-o-lutely guarantee it! I'll swear on it. That leper is gone. He's out of town picking lemons and limes down in Florida or someplace, and blowing some other, much better-looking kid! He's surely forgotten all about the skinny little boy with asthma that wouldn't even give him a dime for a blowjob!" 

To Richie's relief, he got a small grin out of Eddie. He grinned back, proud of himself. Boy, that was one thing he could do! He wasn't much of a leader like Bill, but he could usually get a smile out of his friends even when they were feeling down, even when they were scared, even when they were scared out of their minds as Eddie seemed to be of that leper. 

The lamp across from them gave the room a warm glow. Richie had hurriedly tossed a bunch of clothes and stuff into the closet when they got upstairs and stacked his school stuff in a pile that he liked to pretend looked sort of neat. He yawned. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it had to be late, well past midnight. Eddie yawned as well, and lay back, plopping his head on the pillow. 

Richie got up to put the comic away before turning back towards the bed. He tried to hide his alarm when he saw that the pillow around Eddie's messy brown hair was stained red. Clearly, he did not do a good job of hiding his alarm, because Eddie sat up fast, looking scared. 

"What's wrong-" Eddie started to ask before looking down and seeing the blood stain. "Shit, I'm sorry!" he said. "I didn't realize I was still bleeding! You really made me bump my head bad earlier you dick!" Despite his words, there was no anger in Eddie's voice. 

"No, you're not," Richie said, coming over to assess the damage. There was only a little blood on the pillow. "It's just from your hair. If you were still bleeding it would be worse. Okay uh, let me think." He thought fast. "Here," he fumbled in one of his drawers and pulled out an already blood-stained T-shirt, handing it to Eddie. "Just put this under your head." 

Eddie held the shirt gingerly between his index finger and thumb, eyeing it with some suspision. 

"Cripes Eddie, you don't think I have leprosy do you?" Richie said with some indignation. "It's clean I just couldn't get the stains out." 

"What the hell happened?" Eddie asked, still eyeing the shirt like it might bite him. 

"What the hell do you think?" Richie muttered. "Henry Bowers and his goons. One day after school. It's nothing. It was a while ago. Just use the shirt to make sure you don't get any more blood on my pillow, would you?" 

"Yeah," Eddie said, putting the shirt on the pillow. Richie headed for the door. 

"Where are you going?" Eddie asked sleepily. 

"To get a sleeping bag from the basement since you decided to hog my bed, you little shit," Richie said and left the room. 

The hall was very empty, and there seemed to be a lot of shadows that he couldn't place the sources of. Don't be a baby, he told himself. They're just shadows, Richie, not clowns or mummies or lepers. Because you didn't see any of that. Now, why's that, do you suppose? Hm? Why did everyone in the gang but you see something? 

Richie tiptoed down the hall, not wanting to wake his parents. He didn't think they would say much, but suppose they went in to check on Eddie and noticed the blood? He couldn't have them calling up Mrs. Kaspbrak. He doubted it would happen, but it was a risk he was not willing to take. 

He made his way down the stairs, and to his horror, he sensed something prowling behind him as he walked. 

A monster. It's a monster! It's a monster and it's coming for me! Oh god, it's going to kill me! Richie thought, hopelessly. 

He could smell It. It smelled like a dog's breath, but worse, with hints of blood. He couldn't make himself look back, he just couldn't do it. He heard a creak on the steps, and before he could think it over or look back, he was hurtling down at full speed, all thoughts of waking his parents gone. 

He rushed through the big empty living room and pressed himself against a wall. He looked around, and there was nothing. It was just his imagination. 

That's what he called being a baby! What a scaredy cat! Look at Richie Tozier, afraid of an odd smell and a creaking step! Monsters aren't real, Richie, said a voice in his head that wasn't quite his own but certainly wasn't one of his fun impressions, monsters aren't real and even if they were they wouldn't pay any attention to a waste like you! 

He shook off the unwelcome thoughts and made his way down the hall to the basement door. He opened it up and looked down the steps. Each step had a space between and Richie was faced with the horrible idea that someone (something) was down there and if he took a step down the stairs, it would grab his ankle and yank him down. His heart was racing in his chest. 

He took a deep breath and began walking down the steps. He froze when he saw what was at the bottom. It was his father, but it wasn't really his father. Richie could tell that something was very wrong. 

"Dad?" he asked, hesitantly. 

It was his dad's face, but the eyes were wrong. His dad had brown eyes, like him, and these eyes were bright, piercing blue. Also, his skin was too pale, and it looked almost crusty. The most off-putting part was that his dad was wearing something Mr. Tozier would never in a million years have worn. It was a silver clown suit with orange buttons. 

"Hi-ya Richie!" Richie gulped. That sure wasn't his dad's voice. It was a high and wavering, spooky voice that sent shivers down his spine. It was a clown's voice. Richie got the idea the voice was supposed to be silly, but he sure as hell wasn't laughing. It was a horrible voice, a voice Richie wished he had never heard and hoped to never hear again. 

"What are you?" he asked, staring down the stairs at the thing in the shadows that was not his dad. 

He wanted to bolt, but it was as if his legs had turned to cement. He couldn't seem to move, let alone run. He could feel cold strands of sweat running down his forehead. 

"What do you mean? You know me, Richie! Geez! You've known me your whole life. What's gotten into you, son?" This time it was his dad's voice, and Richie wished immediately that it would go back to the clown voice. 

"Come on down! Don't you want to play? I've got balloons, Richie! I've got lots of balloons!" The dad-thing began to pull balloons out from behind him. there was an illogical amount of balloons back there, way more than could have possibly fit behind one man. 

There were red balloons, and pink balloons, and green, and yellow, and purple. First, the dad-thing was holding handfuls of strings, and they were drifting towards Richie. Then, there were so many balloons Richie couldn't even see the dad-thing. The basement was filling up with balloons, and they were starting to drift up the steps towards Richie. 

"Come on Richie! You know you want one! They float! Isn't that neat? If you come down here, you'll float too!"

For a horrible moment, Richie wanted to reach for a balloon. For reasons he couldn't explain, he wanted to grab a balloon and run down there, and see if it were true that he would float. He wanted to float through the air like a balloon and - 

"And nothing," he muttered out loud, and finally got his shit together and bolted. 

He ran through the living room and up the stairs and back to his room without pausing. 

He wanted to float!? What was that bullshit? Hell no. He must have been taken over by temporary insanity. 

Richie didn't stop until he was back inside his bedroom with the door shut and locked behind him, panting heavily, his heart pounding with the intensity of a thousand drum players having a rehearsal in his chest. 

"What's wrong?" asked Eddie, now wide awake and sitting up in bed. 

"I saw It," Richie said and burst into tears. 

He ran over to the bed and buried his face in the pillow, sobbing. He realized in the midst of his sobs that he had never cried in front of the other guys except when he got beat up by Henry Bowers, and those were a different kind of tears. Maybe. Maybe they weren't. After all, those too were tears of defeat and fear and shame. Richie couldn't stop. He kept thinking about his idiotic ass had almost reached for one of those balloons like a dummy victim in a horror flick. 

"Hey," Eddie was rubbing his back. "It's okay. Just take a deep breath or it'll be you having an asthma attack!" Eddie forced a shrill laugh. 

"It's a good thing you're not the funny one," Richie muttered, sitting up and leaning against the wall. "You suck at it." He gave Eddie a forced grin, which Eddie didn't return. 

"Just tell me what happened," Eddie said. 

And Richie told him. He started crying again in the retelling of the story, describing how first he had imagined a monster chasing him down the steps. He stumbled when he got to the part about the monster being his dad, and Eddie's face darkened. 

When Richie was finished, Eddie just hugged him, and he leaned his head on his friend's shoulder for a moment. When Eddie let go he felt a sense of loss. He had felt like the monster was in another world when Eddie was hugging him like it surely couldn't get him if he was in Eddie's arms. 

"Anyway," he said, trying to hide his thoughts from his friend. "I couldn't get a sleeping bag, uh, obviously." 

"I mean it's your bed," Eddie said. "And if it weren't for you I'd be spending the night in the emergency room because of a stupid bump on my head." 

"We can share the bed," Richie said. "No homo, of course." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, and lay down, resting his head on the blood-stained shirt Richie had given him. Richie got up and turned out the light. There was a pause. Richie could just feel Eddie's nervous energy going crazy, or maybe it was his own nerves, he couldn't tell. Either way, he turned the light back on before climbing into bed and pulling the blanket over both of them. 

"Hey Richie," Eddie said after a bit. 

"Yeah?" 

"Why did you think the monster showed itself to you as your dad?" 

"I don't know," Richie rolled over to look at him. "Maybe it was my dad. Maybe he was just getting off a good one." Eddie gave him a look. "Okay that doesn't seem too likely does it?" 

"Are you scared of your dad?" 

"What?" 

"I mean It showed up to Ben as a mummy, he must be scared of the mummy, and it showed up to Bill as his little brother's ghost, that's obviously pretty scary. We both know why it showed up as a leper for me. So why did the monster show up as your dad?" 

"Well jee Doctor Kaspbrak," Richie said, in a timid voice, a shaking voice, which he meant to be a mental patient. As soon as he started doing this voice, he found that he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. It sounded much too much like himself. It was too late to stop though. "I don't know. Aren't you going to ask me how it made me feel?" 

"Fine," Eddie said, annoyed, rolling over. "I won't ask." 

"Oh come on," Richie muttered in his regular voice, glad to be rid of the mental patient voice and vowing not to use that one again. "Look Eds, I've really got no idea why it showed up that way." 

But he did know, didn't he? 

Dad, look at this, I scored a hundred percent on this math test! Look it! Look! My team won the soccer tournament in gym class! Dad! Hey! Pay attention, would you? 

Richie squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to think anymore tonight. He hoped Eddie was serious when he said he wouldn't ask anymore because he didn't want to talk anymore, for once. Yeah for once Richie Tozier was about ready to stop talking and just be quiet, just shut the fuck up as everyone was always telling him to do. 

"Eddie?" But boy oh boy it didn't matter how much he wanted to shut the fuck up because he couldn't do it, that was one thing he sure couldn't do. 

"Yeah?" 

"Since we're playing shrink, what did you mean when you said we both knew why the leper appeared to you?" 

"Huh?" 

"You said," he imitated Eddie's high voice as best he could "We both know why It showed up as a leper for me." 

"Did I?" Eddie mumbled, sleepy. Then, after a moment, "Don't imitate me, Richie. Goodnight." 

"Hey," Richie shook Eddie's shoulder. "Talk to me or I'll start tickling," Eddie grumbled but turned around to face him. 

"You already know I hate germs. The leper was like a walking infection." 

"It's a little more than that, though, huh?" Richie asked. "Isn't it?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I don't know," Richie said. This was half true. "Duh you're afraid of disease, but I mean, what else scares you?" They were very close. 

Richie was not at all expecting what happened next. 

Eddie leaned in and kissed him, and in that moment he felt like there really were no such things as monsters as if he were the most important person in the whole world, and as if he and Eddie were only two people on the planet. It was the best feeling he'd ever had. 

Eddie stared at him, wide-eyed, and Richie stared back, his face growing hot. 

For once in his life, Richie Tozier was absolutely speechless. 

Weeks later though, Richie would say to Eddie that during their first kiss he had realized that maybe it didn't matter what scared them or why as long as they knew what made the fears go away. 

**************************************

A/N: I’m not gonna lie I’m thirsty for validation + I want to make sure anyone who was interested in reading part 2 knows there is one so I’m gonna tag people I remember being interested in part 1. 

If you didn’t wanna be tagged I’m sorry don’t feel any pressure to read and if you want, just ask not to be tagged in the future and you won’t be

aNyWaY

@skeletontozier  @mechanicalhabits @hair-fiber @punkpisces00 @evalocity

Thanks to anyone who takes the time to read my writing, hopefully, it turned out alright <3 I am not far enough in my re-read to be sure if I’m getting everything right, sorry if this isn’t exactly canon compliant 

[cherry-salamander]

Harmful

This is the last time.

Just one more. I promise. Just one more.

Red bubbles up from my sun deprived forearm, a sharp sting, but neither stops the silver blade moving of its own accord.

The pain fades and a thin red line is left in the metal’s wake. My thin and scarred fingers pull the skin around the open maroon, forcing the sides farther apart. A quick swipe to make sure the job is done, and a band- aid to cover up any trace of this moment ever happening.

And peace at last.

___

I wake up the next day, no sting, no pain, no emotion. I might need one more line to add to my collection.

But I promised no more. I promised myself no more cuts. No more bruises. No more blood.

I hate letting myself down, but I should be used to it. It happens all the time. I already hate myself for even starting this addiction, what’s a little more self- loathing? Besides, it doesn’t hurt that much anyways. Maybe I’ll need a bigger blade. Make a deeper scar, one that won’t fade.

Some say coloring on your skin helps. Some claim holding ice cubes is the cure. But I’ve spent too many frantic moments, tears cascading down my too thin cheeks, desperately clinging to any hope of stopping, only to receive a headache from sobbing so hard when my shaking hand inevitably reaches for the familiar and too clean blade.

Silence.

It’s too much.

My fingers numbly flip on a playlist, songs that are supposed to make me feel better, but barely even make me feel.

Nothing makes me feel.

Stained Glass Eyes and Colorful Tears by Pierce the Veil fills my ears, and even then it’s too quiet. I turn the volume as loud as I can without disturbing my family.

Not enough. Not enough. I’m still empty.

Topless, in the middle of changing from my sweaty pajamas, I plug headphones in and turn the volume up.

Finally.

I finish dressing for my day, though it’s only a weekend. But considering getting dressed is the only productive thing I will do today, I force my heavy arms to change from one fabric to another.

My dog licks my hand, and I unplug from the beautiful chords. Upstairs is for family time. Family time doesn’t include music.

One stair at a time. The band- aids on my thighs stretch with every step. Dull stinging. Good. I’m alive. If there’s pain, it must be real, even if my dreams are filled with torturous actions. But all nightmares are dreams too.

Loud noise, body flinches, bright light, running dogs. Dirty mouth, dirty body, dirty floor. My skin crawls with every step, but I ignore every uncomfort, instead focusing on a smile and wave at those awake.

Mirror open, messy hair, roll of crusty eyes. Open toilet, bones creak, back cries. Wipe eyes, clean glasses, fix hair. Adjust, adjust, adjust.

Back out, mindless conversation, harmful jokes. Secrets, secrets, secrets hidden behind perfectly placed smiles and a teasing tone.

Hot liquid, sweet tea, warm mug. Burn chapped lips, burn hand on the painted ceramic, take a seat. Open useless social media, get caught up with distractions from those thoughts. Sherlock, Merlin, My Chemical Romance, Dan and Phil.

Anything and everything to cover up the pain. Maybe even a real huff of laughter from seeing those you love more than anyone smile, or act silly. Little pictures that took such a long journey to get from the outside world, years ago, to a strange device most can’t function without.

Sore throat, nausea from hunger, nausea from eating. Sip. Focus on glowing screen with things to make you feel full with air.

Catch a glimpse- purple markings on my wrist. Will they notice? Will anyone notice? What if they do? The dog jumped on me and cut me with her claw. Exactly. That is exactly what happened. If they challenge, then all I have to say is, “That’s what happened.” and leave the conversation. No one can challenge what you claim as a true event in your life. As long as you don’t accuse a human. Then you’re in trouble.

Finish drink, nausea gone, feet cold, eyes heavy. Is it time for bed yet?

Plans for today, small talk, fake laughter. At least it feels fake to me. How can anyone actually feel happy?

Can I leave yet? Have I been up here long enough? Is it time to hide in the world I hide from myself? The one I lie to myself about, the one I repress the negative memories. The secret alcove of my dark and dangerous mind.

Escape. One, two, three, four, five, stairs, five more. Bottom, open room, my room. Door shut to a crack, safety from outside.

But what about inside my mind?

Because that’s why I hide from outside in the first place. It’s too much out there, it’s too much in here. So where do I even go from here?

Where do I go?

____

Red bubbles up from a pale thigh.

No one can notice these scars. It’s too cold to wear shorts for a few months.

The blood leaks through torn skin, fingers only opening the wound further.

Empty, empty, empty.

Will nothing ever fill this emptiness?

Sting, blood, sting, blood.

Finally.

Peace.

This is the last time. I promise myself that. Last time. No more.

Life resumes, the emptiness filled with air that will empty very soon. But until that moment, I will continue to wear that hideous mask the world loves so very much.

But this is the last time.

I swear that.

[thefragileblackdahlia]

Pilot: Part three

Summary

Blaire’s outfits  1 | 2

Warning(s): Angst, Typical Supernatural Violence, Mild Profanity

A/N: There is an error some where. It should say ‘of three years’ Not six years. My math was off by so much. It’s somewhere in there so ya.

Word Count: 4,897

NOV 2ND, 2005

MOTEL (MORNING)

Blaire stood at the motel check-in desk, still filthy, with Dean by her side and Sam standing behind her. She possessed a small pout on her lips, upset at the fact that she will have to shampoo her hair again. 

"A room, please." Dean asserted while dropping a credit card on the handwritten guest ledger. 

They all watched as the clerk picked up the card and read it, but just glanced up at Dean then at the card again. "You guys having a reunion or something?"

Blaire stared at the clerk with dead eyes. She was ready to shower, and the dried mud did not feel well on her skin. "What do you mean?" She asked flatly.

"That other guy, Burt Aframian. 'Came in and bought out a room for the whole month." The clerk answered. 

The boys looked at each other in unison then back at the clerk. "Yeah, Mind telling us the room number?" Sam slipped his hands in his pockets; for some reason, he always had his trusty lock pick with him, even at Stanford. He thumbed the pointed end. 

The elderly clerk nodded. "Yeah, He should be in room 10, do you still want your room?" 

"Yes." Dean decided and waited for the clerk to check them in.

 Once everything was handled and they had a key, they all walked across the lot. 

"Guess John planned on coming back," Blaire commented. 

"That's even if he's alive." Sam mumbled, mostly to himself, but Bee heard it.

When they arrived at the door, Sam knelt to the ground while Bee and Dean stood watchmen. The tall male picked at the lock, eventually succeeding.  Sam rose to his feet and slipped the pick back where it belonged. 

Bee realized that he was done and walked inside, leaving Dean standing obliviously outside. "C'mon, Big boy." She quipped while yanking him inside but his jacket collar. A cloud of dirt particles filled the air.

 The disheveled woman shut the door behind them and gazed intently at every surface. It was littered in salt circles and other things that ward off monsters. There are news clippings, maps, pictures, and notes pinned to the wall, as well as several books on the bedside table.

"Whoa," Sam gawked.

Dean glanced at the floor and intuitively stepped over the salt line. He reached over to the desk lamp and switched on the light. On top of a stack of books, was a half-eaten cheeseburger. He picked it up to examine, sniffing it but recoiling from the pungent odor. 

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least." Dean tossed the burger in the trash.

Sam squatted over the salt line, the dried dirt on her jeans, cracking. He ran his fingers through the salt but didn't break the line. "Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." 

Blaire wandered over to the wall decorated in news clippings and notes. She turned when Dean's voice came from behind her. 

"What have you got here?" Dean asked. 

The 22-year-old woman brought up her hand and fingered the edge of the papers. "Centennial Highway victims." Bee drawled. 

Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting on the skin. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs- ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

While Dean talked, Sam examined the other wall, a specific note catching his eyes. 'Woman in White' was pinned above a printout of the Jericho Herald article on Constance's suicide. Sam turned on the closest lamp to the wall. "Dad figured it out." 

Dean and Blaire turned in unison, "What do you mean?" asked Dean. 

"She's a woman in white..." Blaire murmured in deep thought. "It all makes sense now-"

"-those little fuckers." "You sly dogs." The two friends spoke at the same time, Bee had a look of disgust, and Dean had a sheepish smile.

"So, if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it." Dean clarified. 

Blaire tore off her crusty flannel and tossed it in the trash. "She might have another weakness." 

"Well, Dad would wanna make sure." Dean paused. "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?" He asked while crossing over to Sam. 

"No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband." As Sam spoke, he tapped at the picture of Joseph Welch on the wall. The caption in the photo said he was thirty in 1981, so by this time, he should be sixty-four.

"If he's still alive." He added.

Blaire stepped over to the bathroom with her clothes and grinned. "Alright. Sam, you find the address and Dean, I call dibs on the shower first!" She hurried into the bathroom before Dean could stop her from closing the bathroom door.

Dean groaned and started for the door. It looks like he will have to shower in the other room. 

"Hey, Dean?" Sam murmured. 

The 26-year-old halted and glanced over his shoulder.

Sam stared at the floor, "What I said earlier, about Blaire...Mom and Dad, I'm sorry." 

Dean held up his hand and put on his mask. "No chick flick moments." Even though he said that he felt like he really needed a hug and a shower.

"Alright, Jerk." Sam smiled.

"Bitch." Dean smiled and left the room. 

Sam just laughed to himself and looked at all the things strewn about the room. He came across two particular photos that were stuck into the mirror frame.

 The first photo was of John sitting on the hood of the impala next to a preteen in a baseball cap and a younger boy sitting on John's lap. The two children were presumably Sam and Dean. 

Sam removed the photo from the mirror and held it, smiling sadly. 

The second photo was of a preteen and a teen holding a huge bass fish, likely, Blaire and  Dean; they went fishing together when he went to Bobby's. Bee laughed in the photo, looking straight ahead at the camera, but preteen Dean was gazing at the preteen with a proud smile.

The photo made him laugh. They looked so happy then- his smile faltered when he realized that they weren't smiling like that anymore. 

Sam let out a heavy sigh while flopping down on the bed. From the shower, he could hear the water and a faint sob. It wasn't loud enough to where it may have been noticeable to anyone else, but he was a hunter. He assumed it was Blaire. 

And he was right.

It had been so long since she spoke to Sammy or even looked at pictures of him. And when she saw anything of his, she shut down. How could someone move on so quickly? Maybe she needed more time, but clearly, he didn't. 

It ate at her soul, crushing her under the weight of all the sadness to where if she stared too long into her reflection, she could see the pool of darkness expanding. 

Even if she was beautiful, she hated herself. She blamed herself for her father's death, and she always pushed people away. She didn't mean to say those words to Sam that night, but they just came out, and by then, he was already walking away. 

Blaire never bothered to message him or call, cause if he truly knew her, he would've known that what she said, she didn't mean it. 

About 30 minutes later, Blaire finished in the shower.

Sam held his cell in his hand and dialed his voicemail and listened. 

JESS: Hey, it's me, it's about 10:20 Saturday night...

Blaire emerged from the bathroom in her clean outfit. She wore a Guns 'n Roses cropped tank top with an oversized flannel (stolen from Dean), paired with butterfly embroidered bell-bottoms and black leather boots. Her hair was damp, the curls more prominent. The girl sported red gloss and bumblebee earrings that John had given her when she was 14. 

"Hey." She murmured, tucking strands of hair behind her ear as she leaned against the wall.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Dean came in for his jacket.

"Hey, man. I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?" Dean mainly spoke to Sam; he knew Blaire was always looking for an excuse to eat.  The hunter slipped one arm into the leather jacket.

"No," Sam replied. 

Blaire smirked, "I'm definitely coming. I need more of their bacon!" She hopped over to the door and opened it slightly. 

"Alright, Aframian's buying." Dean laughed, and the two disappeared out into the parking lot. 

As Dean closed the door, he shrugged the rest of his leather jacket on and glanced over at Bee. He noticed her earrings. "I didn't know you still had those- Y'know I helped Dad pick those out."

"You tell me every time, fashionista." Blaire quipped and gave Dean a little pat on the butt. 

"Frisky, I like it." Dean teased and draped his arm over his best friend's shoulder. He pulled her into his side.

They started to cross the lot when Dean noticed a police car, with the motel clerk chatting it up with Deputy Jaffe and Deputy Hein. It was almost as if on cue, the clerk pointed at the two of them. 

Dean, being the faster one, turned away and speed-dialed Sam and warned him to take off. 

"Dude, 5-0, take off."

SAM: What about you and Bee?

"They spotted us, Go find dad."

Blaire stood cover for Dean as he made the call, "There a problem, sir?" She drawled with her sweet southern belle charm.

Jaffe narrowed his eyes at her, "Where's your other partner?" He folded his arms over his chest.

"Other partner? Just me 'n him. Bonnie and Clyding it through the country."  The African American woman stepped to the deputy, subtly challenging him. 

(Reference to infamous outlaw couple Bonnie & Clyde)

Jaffe jerked his thumb toward the motel door labeled 10; Deputy Hein went in that direction. Dean fidgeted, but Blaire just stared daggers into the officer's eyes. 

"So. Fake US Marshals, fake credit cards. Got anything that's real?" Jaffe questioned.

Dean shifted on his feet and wore a dorky grin. "My boobs." He sassed. 

Several minutes later, Hein came back with no Sam but the order to arrest Dean. Jaffe slammed Blaire over the hood of the cop car just as Hein did the same to Dean. 

"Fuck!" Blaire groaned while she gazed at Dean, who was also watching her, surprisingly.

"Bonnie & Clyde, huh?" Dean whispered to Blaire.

The officers read them their Miranda rights and shoved them into the back of the cop car.     

SHERIFF’S OFFICE

NOON

Sheriff Pierce entered the interrogation room with a box of evidence from the motel. "So, You wanna give us your real names?" He asked while walking around to the opposite end of the table where Dean sat. 

The Sheriff sat the box down.

"I told you, Ted Nugent and Shemane Deziel" Dean motioned to Blaire when he said Shemane. The reference caught the woman's attention. She didn't mind it- it would have been more believable for her to be his spouse than a sibling; people wouldn't question it. 

(Reference to Rockstar Ted Nugent and his wife)

Blaire remained silent; she knew that she had a short fuse, and it was already lit. She had her eyes down on her anti-possession charm bracelet that Bobby gifted her for her 22nd birthday. 

Pierce planted both hands on the evidence box and turned up his nose, "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here." He turned his head to the woman of color and smiled. "Look, I don't know what he's got on you, but you seem like a smart girl- Don't lose your future because of a dumb nobody."

Dean furrowed his brows. "Hey- A sexy, dumb nobody."  He simpered. 

Blaire's eyes now met with the Sheriff's. "And you seem like a nice Sheriff, really, but it don't matter what kind of trouble he's in, I'll be right there with him." The huntress smirked. 

"We'll be sexy 'n dumb nobodies together." She drawled with a genial expression. 

"And you thought I was holding her against her will-" The 26-year-old hunter gazed at Bee with a tender smile. "But she just loves me that much- So are we talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble, or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble? "

Sheriff Pierce sighed. "Y'all got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall- Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, y'all are officially suspects."

Blaire directed her attention to Dean, who was having the time of his life rebelling. "Yeah, that makes total sense 'cause when the first one went missing in '82 I was three, and she wasn't even born yet," Dean replied.

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing." Pierce dug into the box and lifted a brown leather-covered journal. "So tell me, Dean & Blaire." He tossed the journal onto the table. "This his?"

Dean and Blaire gawked at the journal with an inflexible expression. On the outside, they were calm and collected, but on the inside, they panicked. John never left anywhere without his journal, and so if he left it- he was either dead, or it was on purpose. 

Bee subtly placed her hand on Dean's knee and squeezed it. The male hunter kept his gaze on the journal as his fingers just grazed hers; Dean thumbed her fingertips. 

Blaire knew how much John meant to Dean, finding him meant everything. 

The Sheriff sat on the edge of the table and began flipping through the journal. It is filled with many newspaper clippings, notes, and pictures. "I thought those might be your names. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out- I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy. "

Dean leaned forward to take a closer look at the journal.

"But, I found this too." Pierce added and delved through almost all the pages until he neared the end. There it was 'DEAN & BLAIRE 35-111' in black sharpie, and circled. "Now. Y'all are stayin' right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means."

They weren't sure how much time had passed, but now the sun was setting, and Blaire grew worried. 

The huntress lastly leaned forward and stared down at the page, then looked up at the white older man. "That's our shared locker combo, from highschool- Y'know how high schoolers are." She murmured. 

Although it wasn't their actual locker combination, Blaire and Dean did share lockers in high school but only once. 

"Yeah, right, why would he write down your combination?" Sheriff queried. 

Dean drew his hand away from Bee's and rested both elbows on the table. "You'd have to ask him that." 

"Are you seriously gonna keep askin'? It's obvious we're not gonna break- so handcuff us and go away."Blaire snapped, rising from her seat. 

Dean also rose, placing a light hand on the dark-skinned woman's waist. "Simmer down, Mathilda." He pulled her back and chose to switch seats before Blaire tore the sheriff's head, figuratively and literally. 

(Reference to Leon: The Professional)

Before Pierce could get out a response, a deputy came barging into the room. "We just got a 911. Shots fired over at Whiteford Road."

"You have to use the bathroom?" Pierce asked.

Dean pushed his best friend down in the chair he was sitting in, and then took her seat. "No, we don't." 

"Good." The white man replied and retrieved two pairs of cuffs. He then cuffed Dean and Blaire to the table before he left.

Once they were left to their own devices, Bee's male counterpart spotted a paperclip in the journal. Dean plucked it from the page and held it in the light. "Idiots." He uttered while picking the lock on his cuffs. 

"Hurry- he put them too tight on my wrist." Blaire huffed as she wiggled her fingers on the cuffed hand. She looked to Dean, who was now standing and towering over her. 

Dean grinned, "I don't know- handcuffs are starting to look good on you."

"Yeah? How about I wrap them around your neck." Blaire sneered and yanked at the chain. 

Dean furrowed his brows and just went to pick the locks on her cuffs. Once they were open Blaire gave him two middle fingers to the face and then rummaged through the evidence box for her pocket knife and pistol. 

"Alright, They're gone." The male hunter whispered and opened the door. 

The two make their escape down the fire escape, Blaire carrying John's journal in her arms.

STREET

PHONEBOOTH 

"Dean, We'll find Johnny- okay?" Blaire murmured from behind Dean. 

They were speed-walking down the street and came across a phone booth. Their phones were confiscated, and they didn't have enough time to steal the phones back but Blaire retrieved her pistol and silver pocket knife.

The sandy brown hair hunter jogged over to the phone booth, not ignoring Bee's comment but just thinking of what to say. 

"We better- 'cause I don't know what'll happen if we don't." Dean huffed. 

"Dean!" Bee shouted from a distance before jogging to the phone booth. She placed her hand on the frame of the door, panting hard.

It was hard enough for her to deal with the anniversary of her mom's death coming up, but now that John was missing and Sam going back to Stanford after the hunt- it wore Blaire down. She tried her best to keep it together for Dean, but also for herself. They were all together again and could have each other's back, but Sam didn't want this. 

The only family Blaire has left were Bobby and the boys, god forbid she loses them too.

Dean picked up the phone and slipped a quarter into the slot. He began dialing Sam's number. While the phone rang, he looked back at Blaire. He had a small tinge of sadness in his eyes. It was hard to distinguish, but she obviously knew it was bothering him. 

The 26-year old ran his tongue over his bottom lip and parted them, "Don't look at me like that." He huffed. 

"Look at you like what?" The dark skin woman forced herself into the booth; her eyes still focused on Dean's. She rested her head on the plexiglass window as she was still catching her breath. 

Dean clutched the phone in his hand but hadn't realized Sam picked up and was listening. "With those eyes- they're the- the sad puppy eyes. I can't resist those." He told them.

"It's just- We'll find him, okay? And when Sammy leaves... I'll still be here- you and I." Blaire whispered and put on her best, 'trying not to cry' smile. As much as she wanted to cry and hug, she couldn't afford it. 

The huntress nodded to the phone and raised a brow, silently asking if Sam had answered and was listening. 

Dean just tightened his grip on the telephone handle. He didn't know what to say in moments like these. It wasn't fair that Blaire could read him like that; he guessed it was only fair because he could also read her like a book. He opted not to make the moment sappy as he realized they were on a timed schedule. 

"Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal." Dean said into the phone.

Blaire shuffled closer to the male in hopes of hearing what Sam had to say. She heard a faint 'You're welcome.'

The telephone booth's small structure didn't allow for much space, so their bodies were close. 

Dean leaned against the plexiglass and looked down at Bee as he talked to Sam. "Listen, we gotta talk."

SAM: Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop.

Blaire snatched the phone and scrunched up her nose at Dean, who had a surprised look on his face. "Sammy- would you shut up for a second?" She snapped.

SAM: I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.

"That's what he was trying to tell you! He's gone. John left Jericho."  Blaire murmured. 

SAM: What? How do you know?

Dean swiped the phone away as well as the journal. "We've got his journal..." He glanced down at the hunter's diary.

SAM: He doesn't go anywhere without that thing...

"Yeah, well, he did this time." The black woman said loud enough for Sam to hear.

SAM: What's it say?

"Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going," Dean replied.

SAM: Coordinates. Where to?

Blaire grabbed the phone and held it to her ear. "We're not sure yet, but we'll check it out."

SAM: I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Guys, what the hell is going on?

Blaire's face contorted as she heard the screech of the brakes and Sam's hard breathing. "Sammy? Sam!" She gripped the phone so tight that it could probably snap under the force. 

A faint 'Take me home' was heard. 

The line was dead. 

Dean stood straight, snatching the phone from his companion. " C'mon!" He shouted and slammed the phone back down on the receiver before seizing hold of Blaire's wrist. "We gotta go to Constance's house." 

While Blaire and Dean made their way to the abandoned house, Sam struggled with Constance.

ABANDONED HOUSE

Dean and Blaire arrived on the scene to find the impala parked in front of the house. The windows were frosted over, clueing them that Constance had Sam. Blaire, from a distance, could see the spirit straddling Sam. 

All she saw was red.

"She's on him!" Blaire roared as she fiercely marched toward the impala with her arm outstretched, her black Remington 1911 R1 9mm pistol in hand. She fired twice into the window, only startling Constance. 

Bee's eye twitched as she studied the position they were in, it prompted her to keep firing until Constance disappeared.  

Sam managed to sit up and gather himself before shifting gears, "I'm taking you home." He groaned as he slammed his foot on the gas, sending Baby crashing into the front of the house.

"SAM!" Dean shouted.

Blaire panicked internally. Her eyes darted between Dean and the giant fucking hole in the house. Once her mind caught up with what was happening, she ran to Sam's side, followed by Dean.

"Sammy! Baby- You okay?!" The huntress called out subconsciously. She didn't mean to call him baby; it just slipped out. The only person who seemed to have caught it was Dean. 

Sam groaned and shifted his body in the seat. "I think..."

Dean rushed over to the passenger window and leaned through the window. "Can you move?"

"Yeah- Help me?" The tall hunter grumbled and held out a hand for Dean to pull. Dean opened the car door, met him halfway then locked hands. He began tugging and heaving his brother from the wreckage.

In the background, Constance lifted a large framed photograph of Constance and her two children. 

"Promise me that you're okay?"  Blaire leaped onto Sam, pulling him into a tight, tender hug. Her arms wrapped around Sam's torso, squeezing him to death. Sam set his hands on her head and just gave her forehead a small kiss; his version of 'I am okay.' 

Bee let out a heavy sigh and removed herself from Sam just as Dean closed the car door. 

It caught Constance's attention. 

Blaire's breathing hitched when she saw the spirit toss the photo down and glare at Sam and Dean. All of a sudden, a bureau (dresser) was sent forward, pinning the brothers against the impala. 

Constance then appeared before Bee and dug her nails into the huntress's chest. A cry erupted from Blaire's throat as the pain was unbearable, her heart began pumping furiously.

"NO!" The brothers cried in chorus.

Dean wriggled underneath the dresser, trying to break free. He couldn't lose Blaire, not when he lost his mom on this day. It wasn't fair. "Leave her alone!" The green-eyed hunter growled as he saw Constance's fingers dig deeper into Blaire's chest.

The lights began flickering, which startled the vengeful spirit and ultimately saved Blaire's life. Bee fell to the floor, gasping for air once she was released. Water began rushing down the staircase, pouring over the sides; At the top were Constance's two children, holding hands.

"You've come home to us, Mommy." They spoke in unison. The woman in white looked at them, clearly distraught when they appeared behind her and embraced her tightly. Constance wailed, her image flickering just before she burst into flames and was dragged down into hell. 

Her spirit left a puddle of water on the floor. 

This released the hold over the bureau, allowing the boys to shove it out of their way. Immediately, Dean ran over to check on Bee, who was left on the floor, panting and bleeding only slightly. 

"Is she okay?" Sam murmured while gazing at the puddle, left on the floor. 

Blaire opened her eyes with a tired smile plastered on her lips. "Prince Charming..." She greeted Dean.

"Yeah, she's good." Sam answered for himself with a small laugh. He attempted to regain his posture as he watched Dean aid his former girlfriend. 

In that small moment, her doe brown eyes met his emerald orbs, and she could have sworn she felt a slight pang in her heart. She assumed it was just leftover adrenaline from almost getting her heart ripped out. Dean lifted from the dirty floor and set her on her feet. 

Bee dusted off her clothes."So this is where she drowned those poor kids..." The huntress breathed through the pain. 

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them." Sam breathed.

Dean smirked. "You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." The older brother purposely slapped Sam on his injured chest and walked away to inspect the car.

Sam laughed through the pain, "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for Bee. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" He turned to Blare.

"Don't look at me like that- She was about to tear your heart out," Blaire replied while stepping over the debris to Baby.

"I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" Dean paused and whirled around to look at his brother. "I'll kill you."

Samuel burst into laughter and just shook his head. 

The triad of hunters climbed into the car with Dean driving, Sam shotgun, and Blaire in the back, listening to music. 

 HIGHWAY

BABY

The impala tore down the road, the right headlight busted. Inside, Sam had a map spread over his lap, as well as his father's journal and a flashlight tucked between his chin and shoulder. Blaire was listening to music on her 5th Generation iPod, earbuds shoved into her ears. Dean, of course, was driving, focused hard on the road.

"Okay, here's where Dad went." Sam murmured as he traced his finger over the ruler. "It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

Dean glanced at Sam and nodded. "Sounds charming. How far?" 

"About 600 miles." Sam affirmed and held the flashlight in his right hand.

The older Winchester glanced at Blaire in the rearview mirror to see her licking her lips and singing along to whatever she was listening to at the moment. 

"Hey, if we shag ass, we could make it by morning." Dean already knew the error in that statement when it left his mouth. 

Blaire couldn't hear what was being said, but she could sense the atmosphere shifting. She secretly lowered her music and pretended to sing ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears.

"Dean, I, um..."  Sam started but didn't finish. He looked to his brother then the map. 

Dean kept his eyes on the rearview mirror as he spoke, "You're not going..." He glanced at Sam with furrowed brows.

"The interview's in 10 hours. I gotta be there, Dean." Sam asserted.

Blaire shifted in the backseat and laid her head against the window. She watched the trees pass.  She almost forgot about his interview and would have been happy if he did too. Why did he have to care about being 'safe' when the hunting life taught him how to fight the monsters under his bed. 

It irked Blaire that he cared so little about finding John and about saving people. He was selfish. 

Tears pricked her eyes but did not fall. 

Dean nodded, a bit disappointed in his brother, but respected his wishes. He kept his attention on the road with a stoic expression. "Yeah. Yeah, whatever..." The jaded hunter glanced at Sam. "I'll take you home." Dean paused and peeked over his shoulder. 

"Look like it's just you and me, Sweetheart." The 26-year-old laughed through the hurt.

Sam turned off the flashlight and put away the items sprawled over his lap. 

Dean white-knuckled the steering wheel and put more pressure on the gas pedal. He just wanted to get on his way and out of Sam's hair. 

All he wanted was to have his whole family together because, to him, he was alone- even Bee had someone to go home to, but he did not. John was missing, and Sam wanted to get married and be a lawyer. 

Even if Blaire promised to stay with Dean forever, he didn't believe her; He couldn't afford that false hope. 

FINAL PART

SERIES REWRITE MASTERLIST

[weirdhawk]

That feel when you write fanfic of someone’s fanfic of your fanfic… @travellinglemonworkshop

“This is seriously depressing.”

Megatron took a deep, deep breath, and focused very pointedly on picking glass out of his knuckles over the sink as Rodimus loitered in the living room.

“No pictures or anything? No art?” He heard Rodimus’ sneakers squeak annoying across the floor as he inspected his apartment.

“I don’t need art,” Megatron muttered.

“Bullshit. Everyone needs art. It’s the most important thing in the world,” Rodimus said. By the sound of his voice and the fluttering of paper, Megatron estimated that he was standing by the window, paging through the books stacked on his bedside table.

“What about oxygen?” Megatron asked. Rodimus snorted.

“Oxygen’s in second place. What’s the point of breathing if you can’t look at art?” Squeak squeak squeak.  Rodimus’ footsteps grew closer, then faded as he passed the bathroom door. Megatron heard the kitchen drawers roll open and ground his teeth. When he’d left prison, one of the things that had made him happiest was the knowledge that no one could kick down the door and rifle through his things—and Rodimus, no matter how fascinating he might be, was doing exactly that, digging through his goddamn apartment like it was a scavenger hunt.

With the last of the glass removed from his hand, Megatron turned on the faucet and rinsed away the blood. He’d felt the sting a thousand times over, and the fact that it barely registered anymore said something not very nice about the kind of person he was and the places he’d been.

The motion of washing out his wounds was soothing, at least, as was the knowledge that the only blood that swirled down the drain was his. His opponent had walked away with a bruise instead of a bullet to the head, and that… that was enough.

Just as he was beginning to enjoy the silence, Rodimus spoke up again.

“Jesus, dude. Just one of everything? What if you have visitors or something?”

“Why would I have visitors?” Megatron said irritably.

“‘Cause friends like to come over to each other’s’ houses. Duh.” There was a long pause. “…Fuck. You don’t have any friends, do you?”

Megatron rolled his eyes as Rodimus went back to sifting through his kitchen.

“That’s so depressing.”

"So you’ve said.”

“At least you have a waffle maker,” Rodimus murmured.

“It soothes the hurt of having no friends,” Megatron said tartly. He heard a noise that might’ve been a laugh, and smirked in spite of itself.

Soap, water, antibiotic ointment, bandage. One for his hand, one for the cut on his cheek, and one for the scrape on his brow. After that came Advil washed down by a handful of lukewarm water, and he was set.

Rodimus squeaked up to the bathroom door with a shit-eating grin on his face, and Megatron had a heart-stopping ‘Oh God, what did he get into?’ moment.

“Can’t help but notice you’ve got two of these,” Rodimus said smugly, waving two coffee mugs. Anyone else might’ve blushed, but men of Megatron’s stalwart crustiness just scowled. He turned away to pack his medical supplies back into its box while Rodimus turned one of the mugs over with a critical eye, frown deepening with every second that passed. Eventually, Megatron looked up, unable to stand the suspense.

“What?”

“It’s white,” Rodimus said, with all the enthusiasm of someone finding dog crap in their shoe. Megatron frowned.

“What’s wrong with white?”

“It’s just kinda boring,” Rodimus muttered. “At least I can draw on it.”

“And what makes you think it’s yours?” Megatron said coolly. Rodimus rolled his eyes.

“Because you have no fucking friends. Of course it’s mine.” He peered inside of it. “I bet I could make one of those little porcelain frogs to stick on the bottom. He can have a hat.”

Megatron turned, folded his arms, and leaned against the counter, brows arched.

“A hat.”

“Yeah, a hat.” Rodimus glanced up, and suddenly all Megatron could see was red hair falling softly across blue eyes and freckled cheeks. “You want something in yours?”

He couldn’t think. His mouth had gone bone dry, and every word he’d learned in his entire life had deserted his brain like a flock of stupid birds. The reality of Rodimus standing in his apartment, staring up at him with a quiet earnestness as he was offering to make something for him plowed into Megatron with the force of a freight train. He tried to put something together to say. Anything. Anything at all.

“Like what?” he croaked.

Oh, fucking stellar. You’re getting an Oscar for that one.

Rodimus thought for a long moment, brows furrowed, chewing on his lip in a way that made Megatron’s heart liquefy in his chest. Then his face lit up with a smile, and the slushy remains sticking to his rib cage were vaporized.

“You can have a cat!”

“A cat,” Megatron repeated. What the fuck was a cat, again?

“Yeah. One that looks like Ravage. He can be pointing his ass up and mooning the drinker, you know?” Rodimus rubbed his thumb over a minute crack in Megatron’s mug. “What color do you want for the sides?”

God, words were hard. And to think he’d fancied himself a writer, once. Megatron floundered, grasping at straws until he made eye contact again, and in a moment of stunning idiocy he blurted, “Blue!”

Rodimus nodded approvingly.

“Can’t go wrong with blue. Mine’ll be red. We can be all matchy-matchy.”

Megatron sagged bonelessly against the counter as he watched Rodimus squeak back into the kitchen, and in that moment he was more magically, fantastically, moronically swept away by the idea of matching coffee mugs than he’d ever been by anything else.