#crying sobbing throwing up dying chewing glass

[mobiblackout]

Throwing a champagne party right now. I can't think of anything else ever. ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Kyle looking more beautiful than ever

Roddy putting the haters through pain

Wardlow winning

Adam you are dead lol

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Cramps. | N.L. (+ D.T & S.F.)

in which the reader is having a really bad period, so her three best friends come and check up on her.

warnings: pain, periods, bleeding, swearing, we know how it is.

i’m on my period rn, & these three boys are my fav characters so this is mostly to comfort me (and idk if you guys can even relate, but my periods get THIS bad) (edit: this was NOT supposed to be this long but oh well i love these three)

gryffindor reader! (but anyone can read obv)

—

somehow, you had managed to make it through the previous school day. but, the whole time your stomach felt like it was completely turning on you, and with every step you took, the bleeding was so heavy. you couldn’t even remember the last time you went through so many pads and tampons in one day.

on top of that, you were an absolute emotional wreck. and, that became apparent to neville when seamus laughed over tripping over your shoe lace, and you looked up at your three best friends with tears in your eyes.

“merlin, y/n! i was only messing with you! what’s wrong?” seamus furrowed his eyebrows at you, only for you to bend down and groan in pain as you attempted to tie your loose shoe laces.

“i can’t do it!” you whined, a tear finally escaping your tired eyes. you stood up, and sniffled, not noticing the genuine concerned looks plastered across the three boys’s faces.

and then, if things couldn’t get any worse, you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to meet a terrified looking ron and harry, staring down at your legs,

“y-y-y/n... blood! t-t-there’s blood running down your legs!”

you looked down, and sure enough, there was a bunch of it. you automatically began to cry, and the sobbing only got worse as you realized that this was happening in front of not one, not two, but five boys.

“nev—neville... p-please give me your jacket...” you choked out, rushing as the blood seeped between your thighs. he did so quickly, tossing it to you, and your tied it around your waist before running into the nearest bathroom.

“why would you point that out?” dean asked ron, eyeing him,

“what?! would it be better for her to stay like that the rest of the day?” the ginger snapped back, still not putting two and two together. ron wasn’t exactly wrong, but his execution was awful.

the boys sighed, deciding that maybe waiting outside the bathroom would do you some good. but, unfortunately, as 15 minutes passed, you never came out.

“m-m-maybe someone should go and get hermione. or lavendar. or one of the parvati twins?” neville suggested, scratching the back of his neck. seamus shrugged, honestly clueless on how to handle the whole situation.

luckily, a saving grace skipped by, grabbing the attention of all of the boys,

“ginny!” ron called out, and she stopped in her tracks, “thank merlin you’re here!”

the look on her face was questionable as harry, ron, neville, dean, and seamus all stared at her.

“w-what?”

dean spoke up first, more than concerned, “y/n went in there. she—she had—blood running down her legs. and, she started crying...”

that’s all it took for ginny to nod her head, “okay. you guys go ahead. i’ll take care of her!”

they did so reluctantly, more so your three best friends. as ron and harry wanted to be away from the whole scenario as soon as possible.

and, that was the last they heard from you yesterday. today, they waited for you to come down from the girl’s dorm, but you never came.

they waited for you in the great hall, but again, you never came.

little did they know, you were curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing from the excruciating pain that filled your whole body. this cycle was hitting you like a truck, and you’d wished that somehow you had been more prepared for it.

hermione had left you reluctantly that morning, never seeing a fellow girl having such a bad period before. you had cried all night, and you and her both had barely gotten any sleep. so that’s why when neville saw hermione drifting off to sleep during a shared class, he was absolutely baffled.

as that same class ended, the three boys caught up with hermione,

“hey, granger! where’s y/n?” seamus asked, and she rubbed her eyes.

“she—um—“ a yawn interrupted her response, “she’s in our dorm. she doesn’t feel well.”

neville’s mouth went agape, and he finally put two and two together.

“i wouldn’t go and see her, though. you guys embarrassed her yesterday. she told me all about ronald, and ginny, and seamus. she’s really upset, and... she’s just in a lot of pain. so, just let her be for a while.”

and with that, she left the three boys. they gave each other weird looks, mentally questioning each other.

you on the other hand at this time, were crying as you changed out your bed sheets for the second time that day. it wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable experience to have to explain to a house elf why you needed a bunch of new clean sheets.

dinner soon came, and even then, the boys expected to see you sitting with them, eating and laughing. but, you still hadn’t left that dorm.

so, neville packed some extra food, and the three made a journey to gryffindor tower, just to see if they could break the rules to make sure you weren’t dying. (of course, all three of them were convinced that you were on your death bed.)

they slipped past the prefect, climbing up the stairs to your dorm.

dean was just about to knock when they all heard your voice,

“stop, hermione! please! i don’t care that i missed my classes! i’ve been puking all day, bled on my bed, almost shit my pants four times, so, i really don’t care about snape and what he said about me! piss off!”

seamus’s lips curled, and the sound he let out could only be described as pure disgust. but, neville nudged him,

“she can’t help it. don’t be like that...” he whispered, still not sure if you were alright with visitors at the moment.

“well, i’m sorry! but, dean, neville, and seamus are all worried about you! they—“

that’s when they heard a blood curdling scream, and it sounded exactly like you. it made them jump,

“I WANT TO KILL MYSELF! FUCK!”

“don’t say that! it’s only for a few days, y/n! i told you i would help you with anything you needed!”

“then you can start by fucking off! go away!”

the boys looked at each other,

“maybe—“

“yeah—“

“later.”

they all mutually agreed, and ran down the stairs before hermione had the chance to see them.

they settled in the common room, deciding to do their homework until they knew it was a safe call to go and see you. they all worried about you tremendously, as they had never heard you talk to a fellow friend like that. you simple weren’t that type of person in their eyes. you had always been patient with people, so it was a wonder to them how you loved them so much.

they spotted ginny, walking up to the girl’s dormitories with a glass of ice cream in hand. they naturally assumed it was for you. and truth be told, when ginny entered with a sweet smile on her face, holding the cold treat, you realized you had never been more happy to see a weasley before.

as pathetic as it sounded, you cried to ginny while eating the chocolate ice cream. you sobbed to her about all the events of that day, and the day before. your crush on neville and how you believed he didn’t feel the same, the way that seamus chewed too loudly, and how hermione was too uptight sometimes. she simply listened, knowing that’s all she could really do.

finally, the three boys saw ginny coming down the the glass now empty, and they ran up to her,

“is she okay?”

“what’s happening?”

“can we go and see her?”

she chuckled and shook her head them, “she’s fine, you guys. calm down. i’m not so sure if she’ll want to see you guys, but you guys can sure try.”

they all three looked at each other, slightly terrified.

but, they sucked it up and made their way up again. of course, seamus couldn’t hold back from making a snide comment,

“i swear, if i get a book thrown at my head and end up in the hospital wing with a concussion, i’m blanking it on neville.”

“why me?!” neville scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air,

“because! you fancy her and are the most worried about her! she’s just on her period! is it really that big of a deal?”

before neville could answer, dean cut in, “yes, seamus. it is a big deal. maybe not to us, but to her it is. try bleeding out of your dick for a week while your inside are ripping apart!”

if you would’ve been present, you definitely wouldn’t hugged dean for that one.

they finally arrived, and they argued for a moment over who would be the once to knock on the door. it felt like they were stepping into a death trap. finally, neville agreed to do it.

he did so gently,

“what?” you asked, “who is it?”

dean and seamus eyed each other, definitely panicking.

“erm—it’s... us...”

you groaned, and looked down at your state. you were only in your bra and underwear, trash bucket in your lap, nausea getting the best of you... again.

but, you figured seeing your three best friends would bring you some comfort. this wasn’t their fault, and you didn’t want to take it out on them anymore.

“um... you can come in, but warning! i’m—“

before you could warn them, the door flew open,

“naked...” you breathed out, looking down at the trash can.

they all went wide eyed, and neville covered dean and seamus’s eyes with his hands, and closed his own.

“close the door, you gits!”

neville did so with his foot, still covering everyone’s eyes. you let out a small chuckle at the fact, and shook your head.

“you guys can look, you know. you act like we haven’t been best friends since first year.”

“b-b-but you’re—naked!” dean responded, through neville still keeping his own hand over the boy’s face.

you pursed your lips as you felt vomit climbing it’s way up your throat, “who—“

that’s when they heard it. the violent sound of puking. neville thanked merlin that his eyes were closed, because he probably would’ve puked too.

“who cares?” you breathed out, wiping the slobber from your chin. that’s when seamus took neville’s hand away from his eyes, and realized how you looked.

you looked unrecognizable almost. you looked exhausted, pale, and like you had just been hit by twenty cars at one time. your eyes were all puffy and red from crying, and your hair was definitely not put together like it usually was. makeup was smeared all down your face, makeup from the day before that you simply didn’t have the motivation to get up and wash off. but, seamus couldn’t help but notice your bra and underwear.

“you—“ he chuckled, “you have teddy bears on your undergarments, y/n?”

you clenched your jaw, and tightened your grasp around the trash can, narrowing your eyes at him. his eyes widened,

“kidding! i was only kidding! they suit you well!”

finally, dean shoved neville’s hand off as well, and neville opened his eyes back up reluctantly. neville and dean took in your state, much less of a laughing matter to them, as they were more of the calm friends.

“merlin, y/n... are you alright?” neville asked, approaching you slowly. you shook your head,

“i’m dying...”

the three boys gasped, and you looked at them funny, “i’m kidding... but i feel like i might...”

that settled their nerves a bit, the theory of you dying slowly fading away. you spit in the trash can, and set it back down on the floor. of course, seamus being the curious cat he is, looked in the trash can.

“don’t look at my vomit, finnigan! don’t you have any manners?”

he jumped back, and nodded his head.

“what are you guys doing here, anyway?” you asked, laying down fully on the bed, stomach and legs exposed.

“well—we know—you—you sorta—“

neville sighed at dean’s awkwardness about the whole situation, “we know you’re on your period. and, we know that you’re in a lot of pain. and, we just wanted to come and check up on you.” he glanced at the other two boys, “right?”

“yeah, definitely!”

“totally!”

you giggled at seamus and dean, “oh, what gentlemen. how could i ever thank you?”

seamus couldn’t hold it in. the comment just slipped from his lips,

“well, seeing you in your bra and underwear is thanks enough in my book!” he joked, nudging dean.

surprisingly, the only one who laughed beside seamus... was you. this surprised the boys, as you were sure that would earn seamus that book to his temple, or at least a smack to the face. but, it didn’t.

“see? i told you guys she’s fine! she’s laughing like she always does!”

neville seemed to look over at you for reassurance, just to make sure that seamus hadn’t crossed a boundary with one of his crude jokes. it was something that seamus had done quite a few times, without even realizing it, but it was simply because he didn’t know how to put a filter on. you knew at the end of the day that seamus wasn’t trying to disrespect you. plus, it was something you had go get used to, being one of his best friends and all.

at one point, the boys had eased into the floor, getting things for you if you needed it. seamus even asked why exactly girls even got periods, and you explained it to him in full detail.

“so... like—the inside of your uterus is actually tearing? i thought dean was joking about that!”

you shook your head, “unfortunately, it’s not a joke, finnigan. it’s very real...”

“well, is it this bad for all girls?”

“no, actually. some girls only bleed for a couple of days, and it’s very light. they can go without cramps, puking... lucky bitches!”

that’s when the boys fell silent, even seamus himself. until he raised an eyebrow,

“is it bad that i’m kinda curious? you know—to see how it feels to... bleed... down—there...”

dean furrowed his eyebrows, but neville nodded his head in agreement.

“well, boys... i can’t make you bleed out your dick for seven days straight... but, i can punch you guys in the stomach with full force and show you how cramps feel!”

collectively, they all disagreed, which caused you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“but—it can’t be that bad, right? i mean, everyone can get a stomach ache...” dean questioned, but unsure of what he had just said.

“let me put it to you like this, thomas. imagine the weasley twins sneaking a muggle laxative into your morning pumpkin juice...” you started, “but that stomach pain for a whole week.”

dean put his head down, finally understanding. no wonder you had talked about almost shitting your pants.

that’s when the door swung open, revealing a surprised hermione,

“y/n! where are your clothes?! boys are in here! and plus, they’re not even supposed to be in here, anyway!” she snapped, immediately storming over to your closet, and pulling out a random shirt, throwing it at you.

“but, it’s too hot! and, any tightness hurts!”

“i don’t care! i couldn’t imagine sitting around with ronald and harry with my—lady parts hanging out!”

you chuckled at her hidden shaming, quite used to it by now. “oh, whatever, granger! it’s the same difference as a bathing suit! lighten up!”

seamus and dean snickered at the look on her face, and the way she stormed out.

“she’s right, y/n. not about—you know, we don’t care... but, just—seamus will be talking about it for the rest of his natural life if you keep your clothes off any longer.” neville stated, standing up and taking his sweater off. he passed it to you, making sure not to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable.

you smiled at the kind gesture. sure, it was a sweater, and you probably should choose the lighter t-shirt that hermione had snagged out for you. but, it was neville’s sweater, so, how could you refuse?

you slipped it on over your head, and pulled your hair through the hole. it was quite comfortable, and you were just the right amount of warm and cool. so, it worked out in the end. “thank you, longbottom. that was sweet.”

his face turned red at the small grin etched upon your face, but he shook it off and sat back down on the floor.

you all began talking again, not even noticing when seamus had gotten bored and ancy, and started snooping in your drawers. but, his eyes went wide at the sight of something in your drawer. he picked it up, and stared at it for a moment.

“uh... y/n...” he started, voice a bit shaky, “what’s this?”

he held it up, and you, dean, and neville all looked over.

“that’s a tampon, finnigan. i use it when i’m on my period so the blood doesn’t leak out.”

he took a beat of silence as he connected the dots, and his eyes seemed to widen even more,

“and... you have to put this where exactly?”

[halo-jpeg]

hi new bestie! can you please write some stanley or bill x reader fluff :)

Bestie indeed I got you 😚😌✨ So this is a strange amalgamation of stuff from the book and stuff from the movie because I couldn't pick one and uh- I hope it isn't too confusing. If you have any questions at all just leave them as a reply and ill answer in no time at all :) Also, in AUs where Stan doesn't die I like to headcanon him as like,,,, some reincarnation of the Turtle or something. It's totally unrealistic but it's a lot of fun to think he keeps all his memories and is just a little bit omnipotent. Yay.

Stanley Uris x Reader Fluff

You sat bolt upright and uttered a sharp gasp, your eyes blown wide. Goosebumps rippled back and forth along your arms, pricking eerily as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end- you were certain you would be screaming right now if you weren't painfully out of breath, your lungs clamped tightly together as if trapped in the unrelenting jaws of some beast. With your heart thrumming too quick inside of your chest you felt as if you were dying, as if you'd run a thousand miles just like you had seemed to be moments earlier in the midst of your nightmare. The menace, the fear, it played back in your head like some sick home movie, terrifying you to your very core and drawing out something akin to a wail, like the sound of a wounded animal, quiet and choked and desperate.

The space around you was vast, eternal, stretching left and right and up forever yet being lit by a yellowish, alien glow. People were with you, seven people but you didn't know their names. Someone had your hand on one side, someone else on the other and your stomach was roiling with horror. Before you was a demon, something that could only have come from hell and even that seemed to be a stretch. Through the endlessness you could only see eyes, glowing and red and promising death, and muscle rippling under fur-covered spider legs.

Your arms clamped around you in a death grip, your eyes slamming shut and begging for the images to be out out out out out. These images, why the hell did you keep seeing these images? This scene from beyond was forced upon you night after night after restless, sleepless night and you didn't understand why. The reasoning was there, you knew it was, you knew that the cause of these dreams lie somewhere in your brain but you just couldn't grasp onto it and right now you weren’t sure if you even wanted to. You pull your knees to your stomach, tears brimming in your eyes, your hitching breaths becoming desperate sobs and no further helping the hurting in your chest. You wanted to scream, to get up and run towards anyone and anything that would keep you safe but everything was too much, too sudden, too frightening and it your chest hurt and your head was spinning and the images, oh god the memories-

The beast roared, deafening, your hair pressing backwards and blowing wildly in the wake of it. The smell overwhelmed your senses and dug up stray memories of the Canal Days Festival, of petting zoos and goats and pigs and the stench of an animal carcass. You felt as if you were going to throw up but the grip on your either hand grew tighter and you swallowed down the bile. The phrase, Turn Light Into Dark, it washed you with a sense of power that only made your head throb more. Blinding lights spun down, down, closer, and though you knew your eyes were shut you could still see Its true form even though you didn't know what It was.

A hand pressed over your mouth to stop another wail from escaping, louder this time now that you had spare breath in your lungs. Tears spilled over and swam down your cheeks like small rivers guided by a canal cut through stone, the Kenduskeag, Derry- You forced the thoughts of Derry away and swept them under a mental rug. When you thought of Derry you grew afraid that you would find out why you were having these nightmares. You couldn't stand that. You were shaking, oh how you were shaking, tremors rocking you back and forth as if a dog- no, a werewolf had sunk its teeth into your spine and was regarding you as nothing but a chew toy. You needed something, someone, you needed to get this to stop-

These lights, the Deadlights, they doused you back into that cold sea of terror that the still-new power had almost saved you from. Seeing them now, here, descending, physical, you did not think that you could kill them. These candle flames would not be snuffed, you thought, and yet you screamed your throat raw nonetheless. A chorus of voices you felt rather than heard chanted over and over Turn Light Into Dark Turn Light Into Dark Turn Light Into Dark and then the lights were gone, swallowed up by something magical, something that killed monsters if you believed it did until the circle broke as one of you went to lock It up in Its new cage. As the circle broke so did the flowing power and a red glow overtook the alien yellow as the lid was pushed up and away and the sleek scarlet surface of a blood-coloured balloon emerged from the magic prison. You felt your stomach sink, your blood run cold, the power drain from your veins for the briefest moment as your belief waned completely and oh no oh God this was it you thought you would have killed It would have extinguished Its flame but It was eternal It was the Eater of Worlds and it wouldn't-

The door whipped open and you let out a startled cry halfway through a choking sob, not having noticed that you had begun to cry aloud. At once you slapped a hand over your mouth yet again, scrubbing at your cheeks with the heel of your palm and slapping on a shaky little smile that entirely contradicted the wild look in your eyes. Your heart was thrumming again both from the memories and the jump as the door flung open. You had to tell yourself again and again and again that you knew this man, that he was familiar and his name was right there at the tip of your tongue, curly hair and brown doe eyes and a kind, concerned crease in his brows that only deepened at the sight of you- Stanley, it was just Stan and suddenly you felt safe enough to cry. Your arms both going to pull your knees into your chest you let the terror grip you and the sobs rip free from your throat.

"(Y/N) what- what happened? Are you okay?" For a moment Stan hesitated, looking instinctively down at the palm of his hand for a reason you did not know and then he went surging forwards and to your side, gathering you up in his arms. He didn't speak just yet, simply holding you close, quiet, something about him dripping with a sense of calm. Laced underneath that pressing security was the power you had felt ripped from you in your dream, the power you did not know the meaning of but were certain was important, had been important, in some vital way. You cried and cried in Stanley's arms as your group of eight, a lucky number, crazy eights, was split instead into twos and ones.

One with glasses, one with a patch on his cheek, one with hair lit aflame like January Embers, one in love and one who was too smart for his own good and one who would lead them to safety no matter what and no matter when- and then there was him, he who let out this forcefield of strength, the one thought to be the weakest now doused in some strength greater than It, than love, than the Turtle whoever that was and he had your hand in his and you were running and trying to get away. Trials, terror, doors and bathroom stalls and clubhouses and (how do you know this?) little brothers and the macroverse. The Deadlights and blood and broken hearts and fear and pain.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was soft, safe, and his hands rest on either side of your face to guide your eyes to his own. They were dark like melted chocolate, solid, calm, steady and unmoving and nothing like the ruby red ones belonging to It, to the creature you didn't think possible to imagine. You didn't have to answer for Stan to know you would decline. He didn't scold, he didn't chastise- he would never do that. Instead, he leaned forwards and placed a kiss on the space between your eyebrows, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. He did nothing more than hold you, silent, waiting for the fear to run it's course.

Belief grew strong all over again, the Leader fanning the flame of hope and driving forth the metaphorical wooden stake at last. You had felt something like hellfire roar through you, a driving agony that nearly drove you into madness but then it faded to the back of your mind and It was flaking away. There was crying alongside the groaning of the earth, a lurching sound like wood moments from snapping in two. Urgency, warm and throttling, tied each of you eight together and forced you onwards despite the exhaustion tethered like weights to your limbs. A hand in yours, you raced into darkness, leaving behind webs to collapse and bodies to fall and be buried. The gargantuan remainders of what was Its nest would lie dormant in the ground for millennia to follow, undiscovered. Eight of you, one two three four five six seven eight, retraced steps with the help of a dying man and grew closer and closer to light and life and safety. You climbed rough rock, something or someone (Turtle? Other?) lending you all the collective determination to move quick and careful and leave no man behind. The earth sang a song of despair as it clung to itself with all of it's force, urging you forwards, cheering you on, hoping you would all make it out before it could cling on no longer and collapsed atop your sorry heads.

"Focus on your breathing, my dear. You're all right. I have you," Stanley let his hand rest on your hair, stroking, smoothing, calming, "You're going to be alright." For a moment the floodgates in your head flung open and you knew everything but then they slammed shut once more and you were left hopelessly, blissfully clueless. You curled tightly into yourself, coiling like a frightened snake, letting the golden power coming off of Stanley in waves lay over you like soft, light silk. Something about this strength, glowing brighter than the sun in a manner much more pleasant than the Deadlights(?) felt ancient as well as young and fresh. You are certain Stanley has had this aura forever, and yet you have never ever felt it this strongly. It was almost as if you could see him lit from the inside out.

More darkness, sewers, the dead things smell fading slowly yet steadily. You passed places that were achingly familiar and yet felt worlds away, not having even the chance to stop and say farewell (did you say farewell to nightmare places?) since the roof was dropping flakes of grit and the rumbling had grown near a roar. Another well, a rope, heaving and pulling, up up up out of the dark and into the light, the homestretch. The feelings you felt were smothering, a sickening concoction of relief and one last choking bout of terror. It was not over yet. Eight of you, all eight, running through the house on (Nelson? Neibolt.) street towards safety, towards the end, towards-

You had never seen this far before. Your nightmares always cut off abruptly before you could even start to flee. They always cut off right before you defeat It, whatever It was, right before you snuffed Its light from this realm. Now, however, as if coaxed forth or caught on the end of a fishing line, you were seeing the ending, the ending of everything. Stan was still petting your hair, rocking gently back and forth as your trembling began to ease and your crying, ever-slowly, began to subside. The memories were still frightening, coming to you in rapid flashes, reminding you of an old black and white film spinning on a reel.

Towards the door. Floorboards creaked and groaned and split, sinking down, breaking underneath your feet. Glass shattered as walls sank towards collapse, as the dirt began to part, opening into a grave. Somewhere behind you the roof collapsed and spilt old dust-soaked furniture, a coffin, a collection of porcelain clowns down towards their resting place. With one final shriek of snapping wood all eight burst out into the Summer sun and the house gave in behind them. They didn't stop; the cement path was cracking, the weeds being reclaimed by the soil. The Earth opened up at last, providing just enough time- maybe held together by some greater strength- for the eight to reach safety. You all spun, watching, awestruck and horrified and solemn as the Earth opened up it's unrelenting jaws and swallowed whole the home of death that It had claimed as it's own.

Your shaking had stopped. Your sobbing had halted. Your heart had slowed to a regulated beat like that of a drum. Slowly, Stan's grip around you had begun to ease and you wrapped your own arms around him in turn. Your eyes, which had been screwed tightly shut, fluttered open and then fell closed once more, soft, not afraid.

"There you are, baby-love," Stan whispered the words into the top of your head and bumped his nose gently against it, "All better, right? You're going to be okay." With a swell of love that almost made you want to cry once more, you believed it. He was going to keep you safe just as he has done forever. With a concrete certainty you knew that Stanley would fight of Heaven and Hell if it meant saving you. With a concrete certainty you knew that, at some point, he basically had. You shift, slow, leaning away from him to gaze into those dark caramel eyes yet again. That's where the power came from, you were certain; from those eyes of his. They were so calm, so collected, so firm and confident and adoring. They shone with nothing but utter love.

"Stan..." Your voice was weak and shaky but Stan nodded his head, patient, waiting for you to find your words again, "Do... do you ever get nightmares?" At this, Stan cracked a radiant smile that was brighter than starshine and glowed in a way entirely different from the burning of the Deadlights. This smile was otherworldly, like the beams of the sun in the form of man. He nodded.

"Of course, dear," he hummed, and let his head fall forwards, forehead against your own, "We're only human." The last sob shook your body, and then you grew still as Stanley bumped his nose gently against yours. Your goosebumps sank away. The tightness of your lungs eased. A honey-toned warmth seeped from a newfound crack in your memory floodgates, letting through scraps of your childhood you had long since forgotten. The Summer of '88 had been pushed from your brain; as far as you had been concerned it had never even happened, it had just been Spring and then Autumn but now, with the door cracked open just a sliver, the memories spilled through and they were brilliant. You remembered the Barrens, playing guns and tag and Parcheesi and jungle hunters, winding through bamboo and splashing in the river and building a dam and an underground clubhouse. You remembered buying ice cream and movie tickets and picking through the dump with the seven greatest friends you had ever known. You remembered Stan the first time you'd seen him, haloed by the setting sun as you fell upon him and his friends on the cliff above the quarry. You remember Beverly's kind smile, Bill's welcoming eyes, Mike's handshake, Ben's timid wave. You remembered Richie's ill-timed joke and the way Eddie had so lovingly punched him so hard in the shoulder he had almost tumbled right off the rock he was seated on. You remember feel- hearing a click like pieces of a puzzle slotting together and you remember thinking these are my people.

Underneath these warm memories were dark ones begging to push through, to smother the good things, but for some odd reason you could imagine Stan fending them off, keeping them at bay for your sake. You can imagine him keeping the door held shut enough that the big ugly thoughts about hurt and fear on the other side of the gates. And you were grateful.

"You know," Stan said, and placed one hand on your cheek, his thumb skimming lightly over your cheekbone, "Those things in your nightmares can't hurt you. Monsters can always be killed," And, as if he had spoken directly to your brain, you feel-heard him saying if you believe they can. You met his sunbeam smile with your own, smaller but just as listlessly beautiful. Yet again you felt the aura around him, around your man, your husband, the only person you ever needed in your life.

"I know," You replied, and kissed him soft, "and I believe they can so long as you’re here with me.”

—————

Okay i actually,,,,, adore this I think? Stan doesn’t get enough love and I would die for him. So, just to kind of explain this in case I failed to do that through the text itself, Stan was gifted a few nifty little powers by either The Turtle or The Other depending on what makes more sense to you. He can (with a little struggling- that’s why the ‘floodgates’ opened and shut suddenly before finally only letting the good stuff through) staunch and release the memories of It and Derry in all of his friends heads, meaning he can choose what they do and don’t remember. He can also, just a little bit, project his thoughts onto other people. I’m not exactly sure why I went with this idea but I thought it was nice and fun and after playing a lovely It based game called ‘Use You Outside Voice Richie Tozier’ I fell in love with God-Stan. Thanks for reading :)

[star-killer-md]

Goldilocks

— for Cowboy 

A/N: This was inspired by an ask about bathing with the AD boys from @cowboy-kylo​ like forever ago. It’s also like got a fair amount of fluff just to prove to you all I am capable of writing non-painful things. I hope you enjoy some lovely soft Clyde dear! 💖

Pairing: Clyde x Reader

Warnings: none really, fluff and smut, a bathtub is involved, handjobs, this is in a word tooth rotting so beware

Word Count: 2k

You never thought too much about how small your apartment was. For so long, it had just been you on your own, so the minuscule space between the island and the stove, the low ceilings and narrow hallways hadn’t been a bother. 

But Clyde made it feel like a tin can left in the freezer overnight and ready to burst, dying to expand. 

To be fair, Clyde Logan made everything seem small with his hand like a boxing glove—minus all the hard fists and swung punches—and his shoulders hunching in every doorway as if the world was never able to fully accommodate him. You thought maybe that was why he smiled the way he did, sort of apologetic even at the happiest of moments, like he was sorry for never quite fitting anywhere.   

Clyde made you feel small too though you were always afraid to tell him that. Knew he’d take it the wrong way and smile that sad, sorry smile and try to fade off into the corners of your bedroom, try not to ‘crowd ya’ as he’d say. So you never said it, but you thought about it often. 

Clyde Logan made you feel small in the most beautiful of ways. 

Not like most people did when they spoke over you or made stupid backhanded comments that you were meant to laugh at so as not to seem rude or when they stared right through you that way people do when they don’t give two shits what you’re saying and don’t care enough to pretend. 

No, Clyde Logan made you small in a way you’ve never been. 

He made you feel comfortable everywhere.

Sometimes, when you’d go to visit him at the bar, he’d place his hand on the small of your back, let it run feather light around your hip and rest there in the curve of the bone. And suddenly, you didn’t feel so out of place, like you were taking up too much space that wasn't meant for you. Once, you were helping him clean up after a long shift and knocked a whole tray of glasses straight off the bar top, sent the shattered bits skittering all across the floor, but there was no burn of embarrassment. Just, “it’s no problem, darlin’,” and a soft press of his lips to your head. 

Sometimes it was overwhelming, the sense Clyde gave you, finally in your proper place. 

And in his arms, when he wasn’t too nervous to hold you in ‘em—too afraid he might crush ya—you felt small and perfect and not at risk of breaking anything precious. 

It pervaded every inch of you, and occasionally you felt just how small the apartment really is. Now that you were used to the puzzle piece fit of Clyde Logan, the cold tile floors and microcosmic rooms felt cramped in a way they never did before. 

You told him a while back you’d start looking for a new place, somewhere you both can fit. 

But for now, you were still in the little shoebox you’ve called home for so long and you could hear the key turning in the front door’s lock, big, heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Clyde stopped by most nights after work these days, slept in your bed most nights too. Pounded you into the mattress and made you cry for him or let you ride his cock, thighs burning to take him deeper and watch how his pretty eyes roll back when he cums. 

And as delicious as it sounded, as much as it sent sparks off between your thighs, you had something softer planned for him. Something lovely for this man who came the closest to the human personification of southern sweet tea you’d ever known. Refreshing like the little sprigs of cut mint he kept in mason jars to chew on sometimes, cool like the feel of his prosthetic on your bare skin, soothing like his fingers scratching gently at your scalp and the way the hair on his chin grates your shoulder when he rubs against you in his sleep. 

“Darlin’?” his voice echoed down the hall. 

“In here!”

You had the bathtub all filled up with near scalding water and fragrant bubbles floating like clouds along the top. The room was hazy with steam that settled in little droplets on your skin. The top of your breasts peeked out from the water and Clyde’s eyes fell immediately to the shape of you under the surface. 

He had just his head poking through the crack in the door and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks whenever he got shy like this. Like he hadn’t seen you bare a thousand times before. 

“Oh, uh, m’sorry didn’t mean ta—”

You cut off his stammering, “Feel like joining me?”

“I don’t know if I’ll fit, sweetheart,” he said, already tugging off his t-shirt and sitting on the edge of the tub. 

He always called you so many little pet names. Normally you’d hate that, but it melts you a bit when they come from his mouth. 

“You’ll fit,” you said, drifting over to help him take off his prosthetic and lay it gently on the vanity. “You always fit.” 

And he did, because it’s you and him so there’s never a place the two of you don’t. 

His jeans and socks and underwear—that you bought him because you swore they made his ass look so good in those bootcut jeans he wore—lay in a little pile by your sink and Clyde’s chest is finally warm and solid against your back. 

Just where he’s meant to be. 

His legs were bent up around you, knees poking out of the water, and you brought one of his massive calves to rest between yours, kneading gently at the taut muscles. 

“You don’t have ta do that, darlin’,” Clyde said, and groaned when you unwound a particularly tight knot. 

“Shh,” you hushed, “tell me about work.”

He hummed as you reached for the soap, lathering your hands up and working it all down his legs. 

“It weren’t too excitin’, I did have ta kick out one fella—real piece a work too.”

Clyde went on and you listened, almost drowning in the way the words left his mouth and shifting around to sit chest to chest in his lap so you could work on his shoulders. His cock was half hard and twitched against you, but he lay still, hand loosely on your hip and head tilted back while he talked.

You loved the feeling of the warm, smooth planes of his skin under your hands and raked your nails across his chest, pausing to thumb at his nipples and chuckling at the catch in his voice. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say your tryin’ ta distract me darlin’,” Clyde mumbled, sitting up so you were pressed tight against him and laying his head in the crook of your neck.

“I would never, just trying to help you unwind.”

You pulled him up by the hair to finally fit your lips to his, loving the glide of him, the scratch of his beard. Clyde’s arms sloshed the water over the sides as they wound up and around your middle. You hummed when he didn’t hesitate to touch you with both. Sometimes he got a little wary about touchin you without his prosthetic, but it seemed you’d done your job well. He felt loose, all the tension released as he fell perfectly into you. 

Puzzle pieces, just the right size. 

Edges and curves finding their way into place like how the sea meets the shore: inevitably. 

You felt the sharp expanse of his ribs when your hand brushed his achingly hard length under the water. He was nothing if not proportional, your Clyde, wide and long in every aspect of himself, so that your hand barely wrapped all the way around him. 

He moaned in earnest now, resting his forehead to yours, “Darlin’, you don’t gotta do that.” 

You hushed him, moving your wrist in long, languid strokes. Listened to the breathy little noises he made and needed every one of them. 

“There’s nothing in the world I want to do more,” you said, twisting your hand just how you knew he liked it and earning yourself another gasp. “Let me make you feel good, Clyde.” 

He nodded breathlessly, tilting his head back so you could suck and nip little marks all over his collar. 

The first time the two of you had ever got a little hot and heavy, you’d accidentally left behind more than a little evidence—which you're sure Clyde got more than a tad of flack for from the guys at the bar—but you knew he loved it. Loved looking at them, loved remembering how they got there and loved the reminder of where and to whom he belonged. 

“Ya always make me feel good—” he trailed off when you bit just over his pulse, licking a hot stripe up his neck. 

Clyde bucked his hips up as the pace of your hand on his cock increased, and he mumbled a nearly incoherent apology when more water spilled out onto the bathroom floor. 

But the mess didn’t matter when his head fell back, resting in your hands and giving you a lovely view of his freckled chest, pink with the steam and all the pleasure you were pulling from him. You wanted to kiss every mole, connect them all like constellations in the clear West Virginia night sky. 

“Oh honey, you’re so pretty,” you hummed, taking in the scene before you. 

Clyde choked back a sob, pulling his pretty plush lips between crooked teeth. You felt his cock twitch in your hand and knew he was getting close. Couldn’t wait to see his face screw up with the shock of it, couldn’t wait for his arms to lock you in like he was afraid you’d stop and leave him cold. 

“Sweetheart, m’ not gonna last much longer,” he groaned and dropped his hand from your hip between your legs, thumb rubbing perfect circles around your clit. “Let me help ya.” 

You grabbed at his wrist, “Clyde, you don’t have to—”

He knocked your hand away and surged forward, bending down to wrap his gorgeous lips around one of your nipples, laving his tongue over the stiff peak and pulling back with a wet pop. 

“Let me make ya feel good,” he said, throwing the words back at you. 

The smug little grin on his face alone nearly sent you over the edge. 

How could you ever deny him that?

So you let him continue, loving the feel of his rough, calloused fingers touching you in all the right places, with just the right rhythm and stroked his leaking cock to match. His eyes stayed on your face the whole time, never glancing away, never shy or embarrassed. 

You couldn’t have looked away if you’d wanted to. 

This is where you belonged, you thought. This is where you fit. Not too big or too much, but goldilocks perfect under his gaze. 

And then his face was scrunching up—just like you knew it would—and showered him with praise as he painted your stomach with white ropes of hot release, fingers never letting up their frantic circles until you were throwing your head back and gasping with the white sting of your climax. 

After a few moments, you released his softening length and collapsed into his solid chest, reveling in the way he locked you in his embrace. 

Later, you’d make the two of you a warm drink, and let him rest his head on your breasts while you stroked his hair and listened to his breathing even out. Later you’d fuck him properly in your bed where his feet always hung off the edge, ride him so he could sit back and rest his hand on your hip and watch you take all of him, despite the size.

Because Clyde and you just fit together like that, without question, as natural as anything. 

Just right. 

[lucy-the-cat]

Lover’s Curse Chapter Two - The Queen of Pawns

Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Intent

Mare

They didn’t save me.

I stare listlessly at the food on my plate.  My arvens brought it to me an hour ago, muttering curses after I shattered the accompanying glass.  If only they missed a shard.

Maven is always near me now, perched at the doorway or pacing at the window.  He almost lost me.  He already lost his mind.  And if I play my cards right, he’ll lose his war, his throne, and his life.

Empty victories.

“Eat.”

I burrow under the covers, closing my eyes.  Hunger gnaws my insides, but it doesn’t move me.  My bones ache, my heart cries, my blood burns.  What’s another layer of pain, if it will make it all end?

“Eat.”

“Choke on Farley’s boot.”

“Eat or I will make you.”  He rips the blanket away.  “You’re not dying.”

I screech, cackling, shrieking, and sobbing as he clutches his ears.  “That’s great.  Tell another.”

“You’re not dying.”

“Oh, colors.”  I wheeze.  “Too good.  You’re killing me, Maven.  You’re kill--”

He pulls me against his chest, trembling.  “I’ll hold you down if I have to.  I’ll hold you against the wall and force you to chew and swallow until I trust you will do it without me.  Is that what you want?”

“I’m so fragile.  You’d probably break me.”

He grips me tighter.  “Samson.  Don’t make me--”

“Do it.  I fucking dare you.”  I haul him down until our noses touch, until he has nowhere to look but my eyes.  “Let a whisper into my head again.  Let him scrape into my skull until I can’t tell what is him and what is me.  Let me become a walking corpse.  Sound familiar?”

I’ve never seen him cry before.

“Please.”  He traps me in his gaze.  “Don’t do this.”  Tears splatter onto my cheek.  “Don’t kill yourself to spite me.  You’re worth so much more than that.”

I want to throw the words back at him.  He’s bled all the worth out of me.  Why shouldn’t I kill myself?

I’m killing myself.

I’m killing myself.

I’m killing myself.

HOLY SHIT I’M KILLING MYSELF

Why am I framing this as his victory?  I’m sure he’ll be very sad, but I’ll be dead.  Dead!  I won’t see my family.  I won’t see Cal.  I won’t get to watch Maven suffer, so why the hell am I doing this?

My life is my own.  No one can take it from me.

Not even myself.

My body shakes, and I lunge for the fork.  I don’t taste the food before swallowing, nearly choking in my haste.  Hungry.  Colors, I’m hungry.

Maven backs away to the door, fumbling for the handle.  “Get some rest.”

I give him the finger.

He leaves, and I scream, so loud my Arvens tell me to shut up.  I polish off the rest of the plate, regretful I spurned the water.

I shatter it against the wall.

_

I eat.

I sleep

I count 823 ceiling tiles.

I don’t stare at the door and will him to enter.  I don’t imagine conversations with him, examining what pieces I’ve gathered to predict his reactions.  I don’t want to know where he is, what made him lose interest and condemn me to rot.

I can’t be that desperate.

Screw it.  I am.

“Hey, Egg.”  I tap the shoulder of the nearest Arven.  “How do I request a visit from His Majesty?”

“My name is--”

“I don’t care.”  I try to channel Mareena Titanos, but my voice is too hoarse and flimsy.  “I would like an audience with Maven Calore.  He won’t object, I’m positive.”

“You’re a prisoner.  He’s a king.”

“What’s your point?”

He sighs.  “Fine.  Don’t whine to me when he refuses.”

“I probably will.”

“Bitch.”  He skulks away, disappearing.

It doesn’t take long for footsteps to come, halting and unsteady.  Maven creaks the door open.  “What do you want?  I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

“I’m bored.  Entertain me.”

He grits his teeth.  “Mare, if boredom is your biggest problem--”

“My biggest problem’s the searing agony of dying from silent stone, but I’ve accepted you’re not gonna do anything about that, soooo . . . “

Pause.  “How about chess?”

_

“That move’s illegal.”  Maven restores my rook to its previous position.  “As I’ve said fifteen times.  Really, Mare.  I expect better cheating from you.”

“Says you.”  I fold my arms.  “There’s no way I lost twelve games.”

“Says the rules.”

“You set the rules on fire!”

“By accident.”

“Sure.”

“They were bone-dry!  I couldn’t help it.”  He makes a face.  “Like you’ve never incinerated a rulebook before.”

“I guarantee I haven’t.”  I slide my bishop six spaces, knocking his queen over.

“That’s ill--”

“No.  No.”  I snatch his queen from the board, scowling.  “You’re messing with me.  Bishops move on a diagonal.  You not liking it doesn’t make it cheating.”

“I’m king.  It’s illegal if I say so.”  Colors, he’s insufferable.

I chortle.  “Only knaves cheat at casual games.  Also, you lose.”  I mark the first tally under my name, giddy.  “I stole your king.”

Maven glances down at the board, corner piece suddenly absent.  “Excuse me?”

“I plucked it while I grabbed your queen.  My queen now, I suppose.”

He extends a hand.  “Another round?”

“As long as you stop lying about the rules.”

“Me?  Lie?”  Maven laughs.  “Never.”

We trade captured pieces back to each other, one eye to the board and another on our opponent as we reset.  This isn’t fun.  It’s unpleasant, frustrating, anxious to a near unbearable degree.  But there’s a thrill, a richness to sparring with him, and the recognition unsettles me.

“My birthday’s coming up.”

“You’ll be one year closer to death.  An event worth celebrating.”

He moves his pawn two spaces ahead.  “Did you get me anything?”

I slide mine one space.  “I have so many opportunities to go shopping.”

“Were you worried about money?  The Crown will cover it.”  A few moves, and he claims my pawn.  “It’s the thought that counts.  Mull it over a few days, and tell the guards what you have in mind.  Make it good.”

My knight leaps over my pawn to claim his.  “What.”

“You said you were bored.”

“Bored, not masochistic.”  Another pawn falls to his rook.  “That’s your business.”

“A business we share.  C’mon.”  His expression turns mischievous, unwavering as my bishop claims his rook.  “It’s an opportunity to show your affection.”

“Would a gold plaque labeled ‘Fuck you’ be too much?”

His queen enters the ring.  “How tame.  You’re more creative than that.”

“Am I?”  My pawns chase it across the board.  “Considering how often you visit me, I assumed I’d grown dull.”

Pieces cluster around his king.  “Never.”

I don’t have a chance to respond.  The door opens as his queen claims my bishop, and Iris pokes her head in.  “There you are.  You had a meeting four hours ago, and you never showed up.  I had to conduct in your place.”

Maven jolts.  “Four hours?  That can’t be right.”

“You were also to discuss war strategy with your generals, which you never did.”  Iris steps closer.  “Furthermore, there are two large stacks of documents on your desk which require your signature.  Do you expect me to run this country by myself?”

I sweep his side of the board.  “I win.”

Iris twitches.  “Do not tell me you were playing a child’s game.”

“Hey, now.”  I put up a hand.  “It’s a very sophisticated, super mature--”

“I’m allowed the occasional break.”  Maven packs the pieces in the box, barely looking at me.  “I’ve been overworking myself for weeks.  I needed a few hours to unwind.”

“A few hours?”  Her gaze flickers to me.  “Hm.  Children do love to play with their pets.”

His hand lingers on my glass.  “She’s not a pet.”

“Would you rather I called her your whore?”

It shatters.

There was no malice in her eyes, no jeer to her tone.  “Would you?  I find it crass, but men have strange tastes.  Especially you.”

“I would rather you called her nothing at all.”

Iris takes my hand, curtseying.  “Nice to meet you, Nothing-At-All.”

Maven grits his teeth, stepping into the hallway.  “I have business to attend to.”

She doesn’t follow.  With a hand, water sweeps across the floor, gathering all the glass shards in a sphere of pain.  “So it has teeth after all.”

No anger.  No hostility.  No hatred.

I’ve never met a person more terrifying.

Iris chuckles.  Then she leaves, taking the shattered glass with her.

I did not intend to make Maven neglect his duties.  I did not consider how busy his schedule must be, how many hours it must take to run a country.  But now there is a tension between him and Iris.

I forged this alliance.  I can make it burn.

[letitrainathousandflames-archive]

Whumptober #2 - Explosion

Fandom: The Clone Wars

Rating: Teen and Up (16+)

Characters: Hardcase (main), Jesse, Kix, Fives

Tags: death, blood, trauma, bullying, only hurt and a teaspoon of comfort, whump, child death, umbara, if I forgot to tag something pls let me know

Summary: Hardcase had a leak in his tube that would’ve deemed him as defective and qualify him for decommission, but someone saved him from this fate. Years later, Hardcase got to choose his own fate.

-

Eight years and four months ago, the Kaminoans noticed a leak on a clone’s tube and ordered Ninety-Nine to empty it, liquid and embryo altogether. The leak could cause the clone to become defective, and defective products were something inadmissible for their perfectionist standards.

Ninety-Nine had stared at the tube. He couldn’t quite see much of the clone in there aside from a small reddened clump the side of his fist, since it was at such an early stage of its development, but when he touched the glass and the warm liquid trickling from a small crack there trailed between his fingers and over the back of his hand, Ninety-Nine could feel him. He knew he could. No clone deserved to be ruled out before at least having a chance to prove themselves, it wasn’t fair.

The truth is, Ninety-Nine had seen himself in the allegedly defective clone. The clone was there, just waiting for one chance to prove himself useful, and Ninety-Nine would be damned if he didn’t help him get it. So Ninety-Nine fixed the leak as best as he could and prayed for an opportunity to cover up what he knew would be seen as a mistake. He could be killed for this. He didn’t care – dying to protect a brother was a good death, a righteous death for a clone. If he truly had to go like that, he couldn’t ask for anything better.

The opportunity came in a miscarried clone, only thirty minutes later. Ninety-Nine wept for him, as he always would. It’s a sad thing, witnessing a clone trooper being robbed of the opportunity to fight alongside his vod’e. Ninety-Nine emptied what was then a useless tank as required – and transferred the clone from the cracked tube into that one.

The kaminoans had seen Ninety-Nine’s actions in the security feed and demanded an explanation, and what could the clone say for himself? That he cared for each and every clone in the facility, that their lives had meaning and purpose, that denying someone’s right to live when you had intentionally forced them into existing with your unethical science in the first place was cruel and selfish?

So Ninety-Nine had spoken sheepishly, eyes set on the stark white floor.

“I-If I may say so, you’ve already invested your time and resources in this clone, doctor. Why not see him to completion? If he comes out defective, he can” and Ninety-Nine swallowed down, grimacing “be sent into the front lines, used as a shield.”

The kaminoan in front of him stared coldly at the clone, tone dry and merciless.

“This is not up for you to choose, clone. You are not a scientist, you are not a specialist. You are an experiment gone wrong that we chose to allow to exist, and instead of thankfulness, you give us betrayal.” She drew in a breath, looking down at Ninety-Nine to then offer him a smile that the clone knew to be false “Very well. You will be responsible for whatever comes out of that tube. If it can walk and follow orders, it’ll be sent to battle.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously “But if it’s deemed unfit for battle, you will be personally responsible for terminating it. Not with a medical droid’s assistance, not with an injection, but with a loaded blaster.”

Ninety-Nine kept his eyes low, trying not to let his wincing be noticed, fighting off his wish to scream at the scientist and ask what in the moons was wrong with her. For the most of his life, Ninety-Nine had wanted nothing more than holding a blaster, but now the very thought of it had made him sick.

If it boiled down to that, Ninety-Nine would rather shoot himself than execute a brother.

So when the day of batch 6000’s decanting comes, Ninety-Nine takes the newborn clones one by one into the nursery room, wraps them gingerly into warm, soft blankets and welcomes them into the universe. It’s always a joyous occasion to him, seeing his brothers opening their eyes for the first time, taking the very first breath of their tiny lungs, but this time the happy feeling comes with an anxious thought that keeps gnawing at him – what of the clone from the leaking tube? A loud cry cuts Ninety-Nine thoughts abruptly, and he wonders: could it be…?

When he walks back into the decanting facility across the hall, one single clone is placed in a the clear plastoid tray over a nursing cart – the newborn is bare, so, so small like all newborn clones are, still wet with the liquid he’d been immersed in up until then. Ninety-Nine rushes to the cart, looking at the baby lying there, and the baby looks up at him, eyes big and wet with tears, face red from crying. The is a dark blue spot on his cheek, right below his right eye, and Ninety-Nine can see by the reddened skin surrounding the spot that it wasn’t a birth mark – that was a fresh wound.

“This” the kaminoan doctor states dryly “is the tampered clone. I marked it with a small tattoo so that it won’t get mixed in with the others. We will be keeping a close eye on its development, and if it shows any signs of delayed development, if it seems defective in any way, we will have you personally terminate it.”

Ninety-Nine draws in a sharp breath, looking at the baby that still whimpers without comprehending why he had been hurt in this way only minutes after being born. Ninety-Nine reaches for the baby, wraps the fabric around his small body to keep him warm.

“Yes, doctor.”

When they’re alone, Ninety-Nine rocks the baby, cooing gently until he stops crying. When he places the baby – CT6160 – in the vacant clear plastoid box right next to CT6116, he notices his hands are shaking. He swallows down thickly, runs a gentle hand over the baby’s head, wrinkled fingers ghosting over soft skin.

“You’ll be fine. You and your brothers will train together and fight together, and you’ll tell me all kinds of stories from every corner of the galaxy when we meet again. You’ll be fine.” He sighs, shakes his head “Don’t ever let them tell you your life has no worth. You take care out there, okay?”

-

CT6160 tries his best, he does. But he still can’t keep his mind from wandering during most classes, or his leg from bouncing no matter how many times the instructors tell him to stand still and pay attention. He starts tapping his fingers on his desk instead, or chewing his lip to the point of bleeding. He just doesn’t know what to do with all the energy in his body, and trying to keep it still within him almost makes him ache.

“Kid’s a hard case, as most of the instructors say.” Rex, an older clone on supervising duty sighs to doctor Nala Se during one of her inspections “But he’s doing some effort to keep up. I believe he will improve in no time.”

Nala Se nods, intentionally keeping from Rex the information about what will happen to the 4-year-old clone, should the weekly reports from his behavior take a worse turn.

By the time everyone is calling him that, Hardcase has already accepted the nickname with a wide grin – every clone is eager to shed their ceetee number as soon as possible, to start building a sense of identity.

“I could’ve gotten a batcher named ‘calm case’, ‘quiet case’ but no,” CT-6116, who had recently started going by ‘Kix’ complains, applying bacta to Hardcase’s most recent training-related wound “No, I get the kid that can’t stop getting into trouble.”

“You should be thankful” Hardcase says, wincing a bit when the bacta burns some at his wound “You’re getting extra practice at medical training. Isn’t it the thing you’re going for?”

Hardcase isn’t dumb. He knows that his behavior wasn’t exactly that of a standard clone’s, and despite how hard he had tried to fit in, to be like the others, he would still be too much. Too loud, too chatty, too bouncy. So he gives in, accepts his place as the unusual one, the strange one. After he becomes friends with Jesse, a clone from another squad that was known for his sense of humor, the two of them become an unstoppable duo prone to making the funniest jokes and having the dumbest ideas that would make their brothers laugh like the kids they are. Even the older clones will occasionally allow themselves a smirk at their jokes.

“So, what’s your idea?” Jesse asks, tattoo gun ready to ink

“Blue lines over here and here.” He points the planned trails over his face and head “Then down my neck and over my back and maybe my chest too, and-”

“Vod, if we’re starting with your kriffing face I’m pretty sure you won’t stand getting inked all that much afterwards.”

“Says the guy with the Republic’s crest over his skull.”

“That hurt like hell, you won’t believe how long it took to-” Jesse sighs “Whatever, raise your face up and let’s get this done with.”

Kix throws a datapad at them from across the room.

“At least clean his face before you shove a needle in it, do you shebs even pay attention to any of the classes?!”

-

Hardcase is always happy. Always. There’s nothing that can bring the kid down. Not even the scolding from his instructors, telling that he’s inches from failing his next test.

I’m trying, I swear I’m trying, he mutters to himself as he curls himself up in a ball under the sheets, sobbing softly into his pillow.

-

Hardcase is seven when instructor Bric orders him to meet him outside, under the pouring rain that soaks him through the red cadet uniform. He doesn’t try to defend himself when the scolding turns into a beat up, when a fist strikes his cheekbone, sending him down to the ground.

“You are an embarrassment to what it means to be a clone trooper!” Bric exclaims, kicking him in the ribs while he’s still down “A useless, defective clone that should’ve been flushed down the drain before getting even born.”

“I’m not…” Hardcase grits out, lifting himself up on his elbows, breath shallow “I’m not defective!”

Bric kicks him again, and Hardcase drops back on his stomach, coughing. The instructor crouches down to then grab Hardcase by the neck of his shirt.

“Your tube had a leak. The clones say it made you ‘hyperactive’. I say it just made you defective. You are just a defective clone that was never meant to live past your decanting day.”

The rain runs rivers over Hardcase’s head and face, cold and unforgiving like the world he had been put in.

“You’re lying!”

Bric grabs Hardcase’s face, presses a thumb over his cheekbone.

“That’s why they marked you. So that we would know ‘this is the broken clone’.” he growls, voice lower now “I don’t know why the Kaminoans are taking so long to put you out of your misery, but I’m sick and tired of wasting my time trying to train you.”

And with that, he bashes Hardcase’s face onto the ground. Not hard enough to deal permanent damage, but definitely hard enough to split his lip and bruise his nose an inch from breaking.

“So until you get your act together and fix your results, we’re gonna have a friendly little meeting just like this one. And if you die, well… No one’s gonna miss a defective product, though getting rid of you should be the other defective one’s job.”

-

When Ninety-Nine sees the clone soaking wet and sobbing by the door of the cadets’ dorms, he rushes over to him, kneeling down in front of the boy.

“Are you alright?” Ninety-Nine sees the blood trailing from his nose over his upper lip, his lower lip swollen and reddened “What happened?”

Hardcase wipes his nose, lips quivering. His eyes are red and he blinks his tears away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Clone troopers are supposed to withstand any kind of stress, but he can feel himself chipping away, and he’s so angry and so tired. He rapidly taps his foot on the floor, body shaking with the intensity of it.

“Bric said I’m broken and that my tank had a leak and that you’re supposed to kill me. S’that true?” and Ninety-Nine draws a sharp breath, staring at Hardcase for a few instants before Harcase insists, louder this time “Is that true?! Am I defective, Ninety-Nine?!”

Ninety-Nine shakes his head, heart sinking. And before he knows it, he’s wrapped his arms around the kid and pulled him into a hug.

“No. No, you’re not defective. I promise you’re not.” he pulls back, wrinkly face offering him a tentative smile “Is it okay if we talk for a little while?”

-

Hardcase lets Ninety-Nine take him by the hand to the mess, accepts the cookies he offered and sits gingerly on a chair while the older clone cleans the blood off his face with a cloth. And for the first time, he manages to actually listen. He doesn’t know if it’s because Ninety-Nine lets him bounce his legs as they dangle from the chair, or if it’s because Ninety-Nine occasionally stops his tale to ask him if he has any questions, or if he needs him to repeat anything, or how Ninety-Nine doesn’t get angry when Hardcase needs some bits to be repeated two or three times. But he listens. Stars, he listens.

They stay very quiet afterwards, and Ninety-Nine gently places his hand over Hardcase’s on the table.

“I accepted the deal because I always knew you would be fine, you know, kid?”

Hardcase stares at the table, avoiding Ninety-Nine’s eyes, and he’s so glad that he’s not like the other adults that berate him for doing this. The question he asks in a tiny voice feels like it burns his throat with every word.

“But what if they still make you do it?”

Ninety-Nine doesn’t move his hand, squeezing Hardcase’s hand softly instead, and he give him a tiny chuckle.

“If they ever gave me a blaster and told me to shoot you, I’d shoot myself instead.”

That makes Hardcase turn to look timidly at Ninety-Nine, eyes wide.

“Why?!”

Ninety-Nine is smiling still, looking very serene.

“A clone should always look after himself, Hardcase, you should always cherish your life. But sometimes… sometimes it’s worth it to give our lives for something that matters. And nothing matters more than our brothers.”

-

Hardcase graduates with high marks, his skills and ingenuity at the physical and strategy tests tipping the scales against his difficulty at the written tests. After his first few assignments with his squad, he is thrilled to join the 501st Legion, general Anakin Skywalker’s legendary troops.

“Suck. On. That, Kaminiise. Who’s defective now, huh?” he mutters to himself, painting his helmet with a blue line motif

Kix rolls his eyes, holding still as Jesse tattoos something on the left side of Kix’s head, right above his ear.

“You’re so pumped over that armor.”

Hardcase grins, fingers dirty with paint fixing his grip on the brush, and Jesse laughs as he carefully tattoos an inscription that reads ‘a good droid is a dead one’:

“Like you’re not all giddy with that cross on your shoulder, doc.”

Kix clicks his tongue, and Hardcase’s grin widens. He’s glad to have been able to turn the small blue dot that had marked him a defective clone into part of his newer tattoos, into what identifies him as who he is. The instructors and the kaminoans had deemed him a hard case – he embraced that too, making it his name. He is a person, and his life matters, no matter how others had tried to convince him of the contrary.

-

It’s a risky plan, of course it is. As they soar through the dark Umbaran skies, Hardcase goes through the plan over and over, pays attention to Fives’ warning to hold his fire. It’s dangerous, but if they do it right, they might save the lives of their brothers from both Torrent Company and the 212th battalion. He can already picture them returning safely to the base, thinks of a good joke to make about the whole deal. Wonders how good it’ll feel to rub this victory on Krell’s ugly face.

Hardcase hands are pressing over the panels of the stolen umbaran fighter as they are cornered by the enemy ships that fire non-stop at them. They only have seconds to do something, otherwise he, Fives and Jesse will die. Jesse had grown with him and had always had his back. Fives is a great leader, and he had taken care of him and the others below his station even when his life was on the line. He can’t let them die. He needs to come up with something, anything.

He glances over his shoulder, sees the generator right behind them past the shield. Hardcase removes his helmet, blaster fire filling his ears louder, lights too bright as his eyes adjust and find a way in.

“We can’t turn back now!” he shouts; It’s too narrow for his ship, but seemingly wide enough for him and at least part of the umbaran fighter. Hardcase’s hands work fast, quickly finding a way to dismantle part of the ship, removing one of its propulsors. “Cover me!”

He exits the safety of his ship’s shield, lowering himself to the ground and rolling away from incoming blaster fire.

“Hardcase, get back to your ship!” Fives barks out, and it would remind Hardcase of all the scolding back at his cadet days if it wasn’t for the clear note of fear in Fives’ voice

“Trust me, I got a plan!” he reaches the large propulsor of his ship, its antigravity engines keeping it afloat; Hardcase pushes it towards the entrance to the generator room “This is for the 501st. Don’t wait for me.”

You’re just a defective clone that was never meant to live past your decanting day.

Fives knows him well enough to understand that this isn’t one of Hardcase’s bouts of hyperactivity; the ARC trooper knows his brother has a plan, and he already imagines its outcome.

“Hardcase, NO!”

Hardcase turns his back on his brothers, a bittersweet feeling blooming in his chest. How many times had he heard someone yell these words? It’s almost funny that they’ll be the last thing he is going to hear.

“You disobeyed a lot of orders today, sir.” he says, keeping his head low and turning to look at Fives one last time “Follow this one: get out of here!”

Sometimes it’s worth it to give our lives for something that matters.

All clones live as dead men walking. From the day they are born, their only purpose is to die. For their generals, for the civilians they’re protecting, for the republic, for the chancellor. It’s never up to them to choose what they are going to die for, so Hardcase feels almost proud for being able to do it.

And nothing matters more than our brothers.

He runs through the narrow corridor, sees the generators ahead and, with a low grunt, pushes the propulsor towards them. He turns to see Fives and Jesse rushing away in the last few seconds he still has left.

“Live to fight another day, boys.” and he sighs, smiles; he feels in peace, and he truly understands what Ninety-Nine had meant before “Live to fight another day.”

When the explosion engulfs him, Hardcase is still smiling.

[damnthoseyes]

Storm’s Coming

A/N: Fluff is hard. I’ll never do it again. Please note this is purely my reaction to being in this situation. I realise many people will have different reactions which are all valid. As always, please do let me know what you think xx

Words: 2k

You walked through the door and locked it behind you. Resting your head against the hardwood, you tried to take a deep breath and calm your rapid pulse. You pushed yourself off the door and turned around, your eyes wide as you paced around the kitchen, biting your nails, reliving the last hour of your life.

Every conversation, every movement, every thought racing around your head on a never-ending loop.

You dropped onto the couch and clutched a cushion to your chest. You put your feet up on the edge of the coffee table and tried to breathe deeply. Your knee started bouncing under your elbow as you continued to chew on your fingernail. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry or throw everything in arm’s reach at the wall.

You started mumbling “what am I gonna do?” to yourself over and over again but came up with nothing. No ideas. No plan. No clue as to what to do next.

Your eyes were trained on the black and white framed photo on the coffee table. Christopher was holding you from behind, kissing your cheek as you smiled into the camera. Normally it would bring a smile to your face but today it only made you more miserable.

A loud rumble of thunder broke through your trance. You blinked slowly as your eyes came off the frame and focused on the large window in the wall directly in front of you. Keeping the pillow close, you walked over and looked down at the street below. The weather reflected your mood. People opened umbrellas and pulled their coats over their heads, desperately trying to shield themselves. Water gushed through the gutters lining the street. Cars drove through huge puddles, splashing the sidewalk and nearby pedestrians.

Keys rattled outside the door and you let your head fall onto the window frame. Your chest tightened with an impending sense of doom and your eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds before focusing back on the street.

“Amor?” Chris looked around the room while he closed the door with his hip. “Ah, there you are! Hope you’re hungry because I went to that Chinese place you love and, I know you’re gonna say I got too much food, but I’m starving! Oh, and I stopped at the donut place down the street. Everything looked so good, so I got some of everything.”

He had set his bags on the coffee table and disappeared down the hall, yelling to be heard. He walked back out in a new hoodie and starting rummaging around the kitchen. Your eyes hadn’t moved and his voice was barely audible.

“Are you feeling better? How did it go at the doctor’s? Did your test results come in yet?” Christopher put the glasses and cans down and finally looked at you, his cheerful expression fading. “Nena?” His voice softened and his eyebrows creased as he walked around the coffee table to where you were standing.

He put a hand on your shoulder and turned you slightly. He used two fingers to lift your chin and cupped your face when your eyes met his. “What happened?”

His eyes were soft and his hand felt so warm. It was enough to make you want to fall into his arms and let him hold you for a while.

“I went to the doctor’s today.” You were mumbling, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched yours, a level of panic seeping in. You closed your eyes and let your head fall onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head and rubbed your arms.

“You’re dying, aren’t you?”

“What?” Your eyes widened but you kept your head down.

“You have some terrible disease and you’re gonna die on me. I can feel it!”

You lifted your head and squinted at him.

He held your shoulders and shook you. His voice grew whiny and he was barely containing a smile. “We’ll go through it together! Just tell me what you have! Don’t die on my babe, please!” He dropped to his knees dramatically and wrapped his arms around your abdomen. “Don’t ever leave me, baby!” He cried out, faking a sob.

You sighed and tried to pull his arms away from you. “Chris, could you not? Please?”

He looked up at you, any hint of humour disappearing, his concern floating back in. He pulled himself back up and you looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes in that moment. “Ok, that’s it! Come sit down and tell me what happened.” He took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the couch. You dragged your feet and fell onto it, tucking your foot underneath you.

Chris rested his elbow on the back of the couch and tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ear. “What did the doctor say?”

You covered your eyes with your hand and dragged it down your cheek, pulling at the skin, trying to find the right words.

“The tests came back and, um, turns out,” you laughed nervously and ran your fingers through your hair, “I’m pregnant.”

You swore you could hear the loud, drawn out “fffuuucckkkk” and alarm bells going off in his head. His eyes widened and he looked like he was staring right through you.

“Que?” He blinked slowly, his mouth remaining open while he waited for a response.

“I’m pregnant? Estoy embarazada? Preggers? Baby in belly? Bun in oven?”

He waved a hand in front of your face saying, “ok, ok, I get it.”

You shifted down and went to rest your head on the cushions, staring at the coffee table.

After a long, excruciating silence, Christopher spoke up. “Well, this is great, right?”

You scoffed and sat up again. “What about this is great exactly?”

He shrugged. “You know, new life? A tiny human to love?”

“Someone to share your toys with?”

He pointed at you and squinted. “Diablo.”

You raised your eyebrows dubiously.

He slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Shit.”

“Yep,” was all you could say.

“What are we gonna do?” He looked at you earnestly, absent-mindedly picking at his cuticles.

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out. I don’t even know if I’m gonna keep it.”

Chris shook his hair out of his face and rested his chin on his knuckles. “Are you really considering it?” His voice is as soft as it’s been all afternoon.

“Well, yeah. Think about it.” You got up and started walking to the other side of the coffee table, pacing across the small living area. “I’m definitely not ready to have a baby. You’ll finish this album by the time it comes out and then you go and do promo, and then tour, and then make another album, and do promo, and tour on this never-ending loop. Leave me to raise a whole kid alone.”

He opened his mouth to interject but you cut him off quickly.

“I can’t quit my job! I’ll have to go back to work eventually. And who’s gonna look after the kid? My mother?” Your face paled instantly. “Oh my god! My mother!” Your eyes widened in fear and you stopped dead in your tracks.

Chris’ head snapped to face you. “Oh my god, my mother!”

You both just looked at each and simultaneously let out a loud “fuck”.

“She’s gonna fucking kill me!”

He put his feet on the ground and buried his head in his hands. “Yours will just kill you. Mine will, what’s that phrase? Tear me to shit?” He rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Shreds.”

“Whatever. Doesn't matter. Bottom line: we’re fucked.”

“Chris, she's not gonna kill you. Your mum actually likes you.”

He lifted his head and looked you right in the eye. “Nena, she yells at me when I stick my head out of the window of the car.”

You sighed and put your hands on your hips “Ok, true.”

He clasped his hands in front of his mouth and trained his eyes on the frame. “We could get married.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Married?”

His eyes met yours. “Yeah. Married. It'll calm our mothers down a little.”

You blinked at him slowly. “Umm no.”

“Why not?”

“Because a marriage shouldn't be a band aid! It should be about two people who love each other so much they’ll spend their life savings celebrating it. Not like this.”

“What? We don’t love each other enough?”

You glared at him and pursed your lips.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “It was going to happen eventually.”

“Chris, please, not like this.”

He slumped forward and let his hands fall between his spread legs. “Then we have no choice: we have to run away.”

You scoffed and creased your eyebrows. “Run away where?”

“Mexico?”

“You think our mothers won't find us in Mexico?”

“True. Pick a place. Anywhere you want to go.”

“Switzerland?”

“Singapore?”

“Zanzibar.”

“What the fuck?”

You smiled. “What about Italy?”

“On Lake Como? Could do it.” He looked up at the ceiling, thinking it over.

You started walking back around the table slowly. “We could learn Italian, get a little house by the lake…”

“Change our names…”

You smiled and stood by his side. He looked up at you with a small smile, picked up your hand a kissed it lightly.

“We’ll make it work, I promise.”

You took a deep breath and held his cheek, gently caressing his face with your thumb. “I hope so.”

“And besides,” Chris rested his back on the couch and took hold of one of your legs, guiding you to sit on him. “We’re gonna have a baby that’ll look just like you. More to love.”

“God forbid.”

“Que?”

“God forbid it looks like me. Poor child.”

He scoffed and pushed your hair away from your face. “Why not? They’ll have your beautiful eyes and that little dimple you have.” He leant forward and kissed your cheek.

“They’ll have your nose.” You leant forward and placed a small kiss on the tip of his straight nose.

“And those lips…” his voice trailed off before he gently kissed your lips.

“And your smile,” you kissed him again.

“And your laugh,” another kiss.

“And your sense of humour,” you held his kiss a little longer this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and enjoying his warmth. “But please, God, don’t let them have your feet.”

He opened his mouth in horror. “Hey!”

“Baby, come on.”

“My feet are fine!”

“Are they though?” You scrunched up your face until he smiled shaking his head.

“He’ll just wear shoes all the time, it’s ok.”

You leaned back in his arms. “A boy? Nope!”

“Por que no?”

“They’re little psychos!”

“And girls are better?”

“Yes!”

“No way! They’ll grow up and find boys and-”

“Boys like you?”

His eyes bugged right out of his head. “Carajo!”

You could help but laugh. “Un mujeriego.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back. “No girls!”

“Hate to break it to you, babe, but I don’t think either of us have a choice in the matter.”

Chris lifted his head back up and touched his forehead to yours. He let out a deep sigh and you gently kissed the top of his head. He placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing down a little. Your hands covered his as you rested your head on his.

“You’re gonna be a mum.”

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

“You’re gonna be a great mum.”

“You’re gonna be a great dad.”

Christopher lifted his head and searched your eyes, cupping your face in his large hands. Your lips curved into a smile. His eyes drifted to your lips as he pulled your face closer to his, allowing your lips to meet while his fingers seeped into your hair.

[teetkmost123]

One last time

Trytokillmeorsomething123

Summary:

An AU where you know about your last time doing something. Marinette hardly got any alert about her last time, but that morning it starts out strange...

[Your last time eating these cereals. ] "What the- But this box is halfway full?!?! " Marinette exclaimed.

Marinette wakes up to her alarm go off crazily, she slowly made her way to the bathroom. Start off her daily routine by cleaning herself up, Marinette is ready for the day work. After taking a shower, Marinette dresses up simply with a pair of jeans, a pink tank top, and a black jacket. Her stomach growling, she should get something simple for breakfast. So that's why she now chewing on a bow of cereals.

[Your last time eating these cereals. ]

Marinette almost spits out all her cereals, "What the- But this box is halfway full?!?? " Checking on the expired date, it's fucking bland new. "The heck? :D" Then how on earth would someone like Marinette thrown away a box of cereals like this? Sure, the taste of it is not her favorite and she wouldn't buy it again... But it's only halfway through, she would not just throw it away! Oh well, maybe someone would finish it before she did.

______________________________________________________ Got herself in the car, she was going to the Agreste company tower, she has an appointment today.

[Your last time going to work. ] "... " Okayyyyyyyy. That's weird. ______________________________________________________ "Adrien, today is fucking weird. " Marinette talk to her bestie, who is burying his face with her pantry. "Is there even a normal day for us m' lady? " The cat asked, still munching of food. "... You are not wrong... " And then she started working on her design again. [Your last time designing. ] Marinette looks at the notification with a blank face. "Kitty, I think I need a day off. " Marinette said. Adrien replied with a muffler mouth. Quickly swallowed it, "Sure, go and relax, you're a billionaire and millionaire bestie anyway. " "... Kitty you shouldn't said that. " But Marinette walked out anyway.

Adrien happily munching on his food before noticed some alert in front of him. [Your last time seeing Marinette at work. ] [Your last time eating Marinette pantry. ]

"... " Am I going to die? Adrien mumbled.

Then he started calling everyone he knows. "Yeah Tim, please tell me I'm crazy. Why? There two alerts in front of me right now. Uhh, yeah, it's said it's my last time seeing Marinette at work and my last time eating her pantry. Yeah, hey, don't-" Great, he off the phone.

"But if not me? Then... Marinette?!?! " ______________________________________________________ Marinette walked out from the hospital, she's not sick, lacks sleep but not too much. Then why? [Your last time going to a hospital. ] "... " Marinette staring at the alert.

She called the first one on her contact number list. "Bruce, I think I'm hallucinating. " [Your last time talking to Bruce through a phone. ] "... Bruce, I think it gets worse. " ______________________________________________________ Marinette opens the Miraculous book, reading through pages and pages to find something about her condition.

[Your last time reading a miraculous book. ]

"... " Ignore it.

"Ah-ha! " Finally something relates!

"Your now conditions are called 'reborn' when you used the miraculous too much and suddenly stopped. It damages your soul, soon, when it's come to an end, you will forget your past life. And reborn as a guardian... "And it's will Finnish the moment I went to sleep? Forget everything? Is it any different than death? Reborn my ass! Marinette ran out. ______________________________________________________ [Your last time seeing a sunset. ] " The fuck? " Did she really just wasted her last day walking around the town? Oh, she did. She still remembers all the alerts. "Last time eating mama cook, last time walked around the park, seeing someone, eating ice cream,... " Marinette can feel the warm tears slowly appear. "... " Marinette quietly let it be. She doesn't want to end like this. No. She crawled down. She only twenty one! She hasn't done enough! ______________________________________________________ Marinette came home, start cooking for herself like every day. [Your last time cooking. ] "... " She did it quietly. ______________________________________________________ [Your last time talking a shower. ] "... " ______________________________________________________ [Your last time open the miraculous box. ] "... " [Your last time using miraculous. ] Marinette taking out three miraculous, the ladybug the cat and the horse. She wearing the earing and the glass up. "Marinette! " The ladybug happily exclaimed. "Took you long enough. " The horse only snored. "Hi Tiki, hi Kaalki. " Marinette smile at them. She talks to them for a while before decided she wanted to go. "I'm thinking about a small patrol. Just like the old times? " Marinette said, both of the kawmii seem excited. She transforms herself. [Your last time being ladybug. ] "... " Marinette smile dryly. ______________________________________________________ "Kitty! " Marinette jump into Adrien working room. "M'lady??? What's-? " Adrien seemed pretty surprised, but no time to waste. "No time to waste! Transform! " She threw the miraculous at him. He catches it, and quickly transform himself. "What's the emergency m' lady? " Chat Noir said, seriously.

"Emergency? Oh hahaha, no. I just want to patrol. " Ladybug laugh. Ignore the alert. "Want to go through Gotham and messing with the bats? " She asked.

Adrien just nod, he surely didn't miss his alert, something is wrong. [Your last time seeing Marinette as Ladybug. ] [Your last time patrol with Marinette. ] [Your last time being Marinette Chat Noir. ] ______________________________________________________ They jump through the portal and start messing around, the bats noticed them and they all start a game of tag.

When finally they got out of those bats sighting, Marinette laughs like she never laughs before. [Your last time seeing Marinette laugh. ]

"M'lady, now can you finally tell me what going on? " Chat noir asked. "... " Marinette stop laughing.

"Mari I know you don't want to but please! Just tell -" "I'm dying Adrien. " Marinette simply said. "What-" "Reborn, that's what those guardian calls, Marinette would be gone, my memories would be whip out the moments I closed my eyes and let myself go to sleep. " "... " Adrien couldn't say anything. "I'm scared, kitty. I'm scared. " Marinette crawl into a ball. She started sobbing. "I don't want to forget everything, everyone. " "I don't want to die. I don't want Marinette to be gone. What should I do kitty? " [Your last time seeing Marinette crying. ] "... " Adrien couldn't say anything. "This alert keeps appearing. I don't want to see them. Adrien. " Marinette now crying and shaking violently. Adrien could only hold her close to him. "I'm scared too, I don't want to lose you. " Adrien could felt his tears appear too. "B-but at least I'll be on your side till the end. " Marinette smile at him. "Could you be with me till the end? "Marinette begs her best friend. "... Yes m' lady. I will. " ______________________________________________________ Marinette and Adrien transform took off the miraculous, and start making the bed. They do it quietly.

"Kitty, when I w-wake up, please tell me everything about myself. " Marinette speak out her last request.

[Your last time requesting. ] [Your last time hearing Marinette's request. ]

"... Of course m'lady. " Adrien give her a smile.

[Your last time seeing Adrien smile. ] [Your last time smiling at Marinette. ]

"... " "... " And with that Marinette let herself laying down to sleep. ______________________________________________________ Maria Fu awakes to see a blonde stranger smiling at her. "Who are you? " She asked. The stranger just keeps smiling. "I'm Adrien, Marinette's best friend. " Maria Fu is even more confused. "Who's Marinette? " Then the stranger-no Adrien start smiling with his teary eyes. "Someone you used to be. "

"... I'm Marinette? "

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 30: Club S

Lu opened the door for me. He’d cleaned up the living room. Everything smelled nice. He was still in his Cassell uniform. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Just water is fine. Have you swept this place for bugs? I don’t trust, Fingel.”

“I wouldn’t ordinarily… But Johann came over and got him and dragged him off for some reason. We’re probably good if he’s keeping him busy.” He raised a pitcher and poured me a glass of water.

“Wow, water with lemon? You’re pulling out all the stops for me today.”

“Well, I really… appreciate this day… I have a lot to get off  my chest and I’m sure you do too.”

I accepted the water and he sat next to me, throwing one arm over the couch. “Do you wanna start or…?”

“You go first… you’re my senior.”

Master List

He took a deep breath, his eyes growing distant. He then turned to me. “When I first came here, I was just like you. I had no idea what the hell…” His smile appeared and died as soon as it did. “I came in as they were in the middle of Day of Liberty.  They were using bullets with that red stuff that freaked you out, remember?”

I quickly swallowed my sip of water, eyes wide. 

“I thought everyone was dying around me. I saw Nono get shot and… I lost it.” He turned away, licking his lips. “I took the first gun next to me… and I just shot the person who shot her. Took her gun and blew both Caesar and Johann away.”

I was frozen in shock. “You tried to kill them?” I whispered.

“Oh yeah, I was serious. I don’t think… well, maybe Johann figured but… I don’t think they ever knew how much I wanted them to die at that moment.”

My jaw shook as he watched him run his hand through his hair. “So I know that feeling, you got.” His brown eyes shifted to mine. “With Isaac. And with his friends.”

I started to shake all over. “You knew? You knew this whole time? How?”

“Just a gut feeling. No one feels as sorry as you did over a monster. Isaac’s friends disappeared at the same time as he did. He was never without them. I just put two and two together with my own experiences. The only difference between you and I is that… you were working with live ammunition.”

“So… I wanna start out by saying that.. Even though technically, I didn’t kill your boyfriend… In my mind? I’ve been carrying around that reality where I did. So I understand.”

I buried my face in my hands. He reached over to rub my back. “Carli, we just got started, don’t fall apart yet!” 

My sobbing was so loud that I’m sure someone heard it. Someone had to. I pulled my knees up to my face and rocked back and forth.

“Shit.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “Shh… come on… It’s okay. I know you’ve been carrying that around with you all this time… same as me. I get it.”

I couldn’t stop no matter how much I wanted to. His gentle, kind and sincere understanding just made it worse. I had no idea how I would ever stop crying now. Just looking at him, his tears, set me off again. But he didn’t panic. In fact, he smiled a little.

“Sometimes, I wish I could cry like you.”

It was exhausting.

He again chuckled. “So that’s one…” 

I couldn’t help but laugh with him, even though it sounded more like another breathless sob.

“Ready for number two?”

“I don’t know… is it worse?” I looked at him, “Seriously?”

“I ...Maybe? Maybe worse for me.” He stood up and left to go to his bedroom. While he was gone I covered my face again, trying to get a hold of my breathing. But trying to calm down just made me sad again.

He came back with a small cardboard box that said “Baseball cards” on it. “These aren’t baseball cards.”

He opened it up. He pulled out a picture. “This is Ronald Tang. We played Starcraft together a lot. He went to Cassell.”

The person looked to be in his thirties with auburn hair and a friendly smile. “He looks really nice.”

“He was a dragon. I didn’t know it… he didn’t know either.”

“He… he looks like a normal person.” I looked up at him in confusion.

“Dragons can take the shape of humans. They often do. It’s part of how they escape detection. He was part of a set of twins in an egg that hatched under Three Gorges Dam in China. When they discovered the egg and brought it here, Old Tang got exposed to it, regained his memories and turned into Norton.”

“He’s Norton?!” He wasn’t just a dragon. He was one of the Four Lords! My memories of the ballet I performed rushed back to me. The fiery red costume of the Lord of Bronze and Fire was always a hit with audiences.

“Was.”

That single word brought me back to reality.

“By the time I realized that it was him. I’d already…” He hung his head. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Anjou knew. Because he was a student.” He massaged his temple. “No one else does. I didn’t have a chance to even try to save him. My friends were in danger and I just thought… I have to kill this dragon. So...”

“This is… Xiao Mi… or Shavee as we called her some times.” He pulled out another picture. “Johann really liked her. But…”

“She was a dragon…” I finished the sentence. “The second dragon lord you killed. The one that almost killed Johann… I recognize her face from the vision...”

“What vision?”

He handed me the picture when I reached for it. “When I was dying on the mountainside. I saw your memories. I … saw what she did to him.”

“What?” His face contorted with confusion. 

“I don’t quite understand it either, but it was like… our souls were speaking to each other.” I stared at the picture.

He looked at the far wall. “Oh… okay.”

“I wanted to stay dead. You didn’t let me. When I woke up. My wounds had healed.” I looked up at him.

He was nervously chuckling and stammered. “Wow! I uh… I wasn’t exactly… planning on telling you that.”

“Your dragon gift? That was it, wasn’t it? You just told me not to die… and I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Why don’t you use that more often?”

“Because of blowback.” He replied. “There’s a principle in dragon gifts that, the higher level the skill is, the more likely consequences will blow back into your face. Nono’s skills are very high. I have never seen her use them. She’s afraid to.”

“The consequences are worse than death?” I asked.

“Probably not. So… you must have really been about to die for me to use it. I don’t… I don’t even remember.”  He stared into space.

“You… didn’t trade a quarter of your life for me… did you?”

“AH! How do you know about that?!” He clutched the sides of his head, completely mortified.

“I had visions I said! Some kid told me you had to give up a quarter of you- Mmf!” He covered my mouth with his hand.

“SHH!” 

There were voices in the hall. He sat still until they receded. “Okay…” He pressed his palms together in front of his face. “Okay… Don’t… EVER mention that again. Okay? Not even between us. I cannot afford anyone to know.”

He turned from me and leaned his elbows against his knees, rubbing his face with his hands. I chewed my lip. “If they found out… I would never be allowed on these missions again. And my friends would absolutely die. Nono almost died, Caesar almost died… Johann… if I hadn’t traded my life, they wouldn’t be here.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Oh… no…”

“What?” My hands were balled into shaking fists in my lap.

“Why did he even talk to you?”

“You were unconscious. It was the only way we were getting out.”

“Nobody was supposed to know that. It’s not your fault. He just… blew our cover. Thanks… jerk…” He grumbled.

My whole body was humming with stress and anxiety. I was getting a headache. “I think maybe we should stop…”

“Yeah I agree. Pizza should be here any minute.” He rested his chin on his hand. “You look like a mess.”

“I am a mess.”

He took a breath. “I’m sorry … about your mom.”

“You had to… Or I would have…” I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I’m not one hundred percent certain it was really her …”

He expression didn’t change. “Yeah, you are.”

I settled against the couch. “But she… her body...”

“Like I said, dragons can look human. You’re the first direct descendent I’ve ever met. Are you really from thousands of years ago?”

My jaw dropped and I eyed him in confusion. “No my mom’s n…” I stopped myself, gasping.

“You’re a hybrid. Your mom was a dragon. Carli?” He reached over and shook my shoulder. “Hey! Snap out of it!”

It was impossible. My dad was a dragon, not my mom… my mom wasn’t… my eyes were wide and vacant as I remembered. Her yellow eyes bored into my memory. Her claws.

She had claws.

“Snap out of it!”

If my mom was a dragon and my dad was a dragon… then that meant.

“Oh damn it!”

Pain exploded in my head. My hand flew to my cheek. “Owwww!”

“You weren’t breathing! You weren’t breathing.” Mingfei grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

I cringed away. “That really hurt!”

“I’m sorry! I thought you were going to pass out! Johann’s going to kill me.”

“Yeah he is!” I yelled at him. “Especially if that shows up tomorrow, you idiot!”

There was a knock on the door. “Ah geez.” He got up to go get it.

I glanced to the wall. Ielia had appeared. She was making emphatic gestures, shaking her head. 

I nodded in understanding. My mom wasn’t a dragon… and neither was I. Ielia vanished.

He returned to me with the box of pizza and paused. I was still holding my face. “Do you need some ice?”

“You know, I was going to invite you to my club.” I grumbled.

“You started a club?!”

“I said I would! So we can have these conversations. But I’m not going to put up with you knocking me around.”

“Okay… sorry…”

“This isn’t a movie… God…” I slowly started to calm down.

He settled back next to me. “Let me see it.”

I lowered my hand, still grumbling. “If it bruises, it won’t show up for a while… I started the club because I really want to have a safe place to share these things. I think that would be good for you too.”

“I… panicked.” His eyes dulled. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever… forget it.”

“Well… if the offer is still open then… sure. I don’t like Student Union anyway.”

“You’re in the Student Union! When was this?!”

“How did you not know that? I joined a few days after I enrolled!” He laughed, serving me a slice. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking to Caesar about anything we do or say.”

“You spy…” I lightly shoved him. “I wanted you to join so that I could use Norton hall as a base.”

“Wow… are you trying to piss him off?”

“Maybe? He deserves it. I don’t care what anyone else says… he’s responsible for what his club members do.” I took a bite of pizza. 

“No arguments from me there. Well… let’s play games. Street Thug?” He was trying to change the subject.

I chuckled, I would have to let him off the hook. Still massaging my cheek, I nodded. “Yeah… let’s do that.”

[sensesdialed-aa]

“There is goodness in the heart Of every broken man Who comes right up to the edge Of losing everything he has." -Mars, Sleeping At Last

                                                                ------------------

“Peter Parker, report to the guidance office, please.” 

Voice blares over the announcement system, stopping the scratching of pencils against paper and the tapping of students’ feet, incessant whispers and the discreet chewing of gum attempting to hide it from the teacher ( but he can hear it all clear ). They all look at him. Or at least, it feels like it. Heads turning and pairs of eyes all burning holes into his already worn down form. Peter grips his pencil just a little tighter. Don’t break it...he places it down instead. His chest aches, and he doesn’t want to get up, didn’t even want to come into school today. Wanted to lay in bed and face the wall and stay there until the hurt goes away and it’s finally numb. But he has to, or else the stares will just continue. So he stands. 

  Uncomfortable eye contact with his teacher, who gives him a knowing nod, and he trudges out with his gaze cast downward-- everyone knows. Talk spreads fast, and during the week that Peter has been gone from Midtown High, just about everyone who has seen the bright-eyed boy that’s always tapping his feet and excels in Chemistry knows that his uncle is dead. 

   Maybe he can leave. Maybe he can run out the side door and keep running until he gets back home again. Or he can run into the bathroom and throw up and ask the nurse to go home. But the label on the door in front of him is staring right back at him-- he doesn’t even remember walking here-- and he has to go inside. 

He’s spoken to the counselor before, briefly, of course. He’s just a freshman, and there’s no way in hell he’s talking about any of the shit in his life. Still, he recognizes the slightly uncomfortable rolling chair and the posters on the wall and the way sunlight creeps in through the window, leaves rustling on the trees-- it doesn’t feel like they should be. Nothing should be going on. The world should be unmoving, FROZEN in time and shaken from suffocating tragedy. But that’s just Peter. The Earth still turns, the school bell still rings, the sun still shines, but they don’t in his world. Because Ben is gone, and he’s drowning. 

  “Peter? Why don’t you sit down?” 

Startled by the voice, he jumps slightly, gaze flickering around the room as if he expects another GUNSHOT to pour out, droplets of blood splattering against the pavement, before he blinks-- it’s the guidance counselor. Her brows are knit and her expression is full of sympathy-- he’s tired of that look. He knows she means well, but he’s still sick of it. 

   He wants to scream, yell until his throat is hoarse, but he nods instead, sinking down into the chair. Anxiety pools in his stomach, and he knows what she’s going to say. He knows exactly what’s going to happen, he even GUESSED it would, but he isn’t even the slightest bit prepared. 

   “I know you already know what I’m going to talk about.” What, can she read his mind now? “But all I want is to help you through a rough time. I know you’re going through a lot, and I would like to do whatever I can to guide you through it.” 

   Nails scratch against a spot on his hand, a spot still a bit red, even now, from the bite that changed everything. Gave him something he’s always wanted. Took away something he never wanted to lose. “Um...I appreciate it, but....I’m sorry but I don’t think it’ll help.” 

   “You’re not the first student to say that to me. I know this is something you must be unfamiliar with-”

“My parents died when I was a kid,” He spits out, but there’s no bitterness in his voice. He just sounds tired. 

   “Well...you’re much older than that now, teenagers handle things differently. We don’t have to discuss anything today, if you don’t want to. We don’t have to discuss anything. We all deal with grief in different ways. I’m just here to let you know that my office is always open if you’re feeling alone, or if you feel as if you have no one to talk to about this.”

    But he DOESN’T, does he? Even if he tells her about how every breath feels as if he’s heaving through a million glass shards stuck in his lungs, or how there’s an empty hole where light used to be, he still can’t talk about how it’s HIS FAULT. He can’t talk about how he could have SAVED Ben, can’t talk about how the bang of the gunshot and the way Ben’s breathing came to a shattering halt haunts him every time he closes his eyes. He can’t talk about the guilt, because she won’t GET IT. NO ONE WILL GET IT. Because he has to keep the powers a secret. A childhood dream twisted into a nightmare, abilities he couldn’t even use to save what mattered most and a voice in his head that tells him he has to save everyone else now. He has to be there for May...has to take a deep breath and pretend to be alright as he falls apart. He can’t talk to her about any of that. 

       “Uh....okay.....yeah-- um...thanks.” He fidgets in his seat, visibly uncomfortable, eyes burning. “Is that-- ...is that it?” 

   “Only if you want it to be. I can keep talking to you if you need it, or you can go right back to class if you don’t want to right now.” 

  “Can I...um-- can I go back? Thanks for the offer, I just...I have a quiz I can’t miss...already missed a whole week-” 

  A saddened smile appears on her face, and she nods. “Okay, Peter. You can go. Just know that you have a place to go when you need to get all this off your chest.” 

 He pushes himself up, clutching backpack straps over his shoulder, another nod. “Right...thank you...um...bye-” The second he walks through the door, he’s making his way down the hallway, chest somehow feeling even tighter than before. Room 202-- his geometry class-- is down the hall and to the left, but he makes a sharp right, slipping out the doors and into the sun that shouldn’t be up in the sky. It isn’t until he’s two blocks away from the school that the tears finally start to fall. 

         He doesn’t go back to her office. 

                                                    ------------------

“Peter Parker, report to the guidance office, please.”

   He doesn’t get any looks two years later. Students have been called down left and right, nobody pays attention to who. All of them shaken, everyone with their own things to worry about. Two years later, Peter is sixteen. Or...seven years....at least for the rest of the world. He still can’t wrap his head around it. Sixteen and different, sixteen and a superhero, sixteen and back in the same old spiral. Except the world did shut down this time. Just without him in it. 

   Same trudge through the hallway. Same deep breath before he opens the door. Different counselor...he doesn’t know what happened to the other one, probably left the school in Peter’s absence. Maybe she got a better job offer somewhere...or maybe it was all too much....he doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about anything. But sitting down in the same chair they haven’t replaced in seven years, his head is spinning. Because he’s sixteen and different, sixteen and wants to GET AWAY from all this. 

   “Hello, Peter.” It’s a man this time, same sympathetic look, except this time, the whole world gets it. Or at least...some of it, in Peter’s case. None of them know anything about what Peter went though...none of them. “I just wanted to talk to you about.” 

   “I know what you’re gonna say.” Again, not bitter, just exhausted. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re gonna tell me that you’ve been calling down students to talk about what happened..er-- the Blip. Tell me that you’re here if I wanna talk about any of it. Tell me that I don’t have to go through this alone. Right? That’s what you were gonna say?” 

   “Well...yes, we have been calling students down, but-” 

“I’m sorry, sir, but...I can’t. I can’t talk about everything, so there’s-- um, there’s really no point-” 

   “We do have information about your life. We know you disappeared, and we know of your internship with Tony Stark-” 

   The world slows down in that moment, and there’s a ringing in his ears that muffles out the rest of the noise, throat suddenly closing up and blocking any air from getting in-- memories RUSH to the front of his mind. The spaceship. Titan. Dying. Didn’t wanna go. Hurt, it hurt so bad, he was scared. The battle. Lasers. The gauntlet. A second chance. Glowing lady. Pain. They won. Pleading. Fear. Death. The slowing of a heartbeat. Kneeling. Sobbing. The ripple of a lake in the soft glow of the sun that should be gone like the light that flickered out from Tony’s chest. 

The counselor’s mouth is moving, but Peter doesn’t hear him. He can only hear himself begging not to go, or repeating how they won. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying. It isn’t until there’s a hand on his arm that he shoots right up from the chair, chest heaving up and down before he rushes right out of the office, and all the way down the hallway until he reaches the same exact door he left through two seven years ago. 

   He doesn’t even make it two steps before he sobs. 

                                                            Maybe Parker luck repeats itself. 

[lovemesomerafael]

EL AMOR TODO LO PUEDE Chapter 11:  Worse Comes to Worst

Photo Source

Link to list of Previous Chapters

TRIGGER WARNING:  Graphic mentions of violence.  (Please trust it’s not gratuitous - this experience is integral to who she becomes.)

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

Laura had no business in any other bar, but she was safe at Molly’s.  It was the last bar on the planet that would ever serve her alcohol, even if she asked for it.  Everyone knew which of their colleagues were in recovery, and no one would have let them drink. Laura was no exception.

There was nothing like walking into Molly’s as a full-fledged CPD officer.  Sure, six months after graduating the Academy, Laura was the rawest of rookies, still working a beat with an experienced officer to train her.  But she was a cop.  One of them.  She was so proud of that, she would sometimes wear her uniform into Molly’s even though she really had time to change.  Tonight, however, she was wearing simple jeans and a round-necked pullover.

Otis liked to tease her when he saw her in uniform, which was another reason she sometimes wore it to Molly’s.  She would definitely have been interested in Otis if she weren’t dating Mouse and he weren’t dating Lily.  As things were, they just enjoyed a harmless flirtation.

“Hey, Officer,” Otis called to her from behind the bar, shouting to be heard over the clamor of the crowd.  “The usual?”

“Let’s switch it up.  I’ll have a seltzer.”

“You’re not driving, are ya’?”  Otis pulled a glass from a shelf and scooped ice into it.

“No worries, I’m walking.  Hey, can I get you to autograph my ‘firefighter of the month’ calendar?  You’re September, right?”

He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.  “And March.  And for you, I’ll sign ‘em both.”

As he handed her drink over the bar, he said, “You’re walking?  That’s a little dangerous, isn’t it?  With that maniac out there?”

“I learned moves in the Academy that would give him nightmares.  I got it covered.”  She winked.

The bar was crowded, mostly with first responders, as she made her way to the table where the man of the hour was sitting.   Laura just had time for one drink before she had to head home for Mouse’s big dinner surprise.  He had been talking it up for days and she was looking forward to whatever he had planned, but she’d had to stop by Molly’s because one of the guys from District 21 was celebrating twenty years on the force.  

She congratulated him and spent the next half hour enjoying the camaraderie of the place.  Although there was the usual amount of laughing and gossip, tonight most conversations tended to end up on the subject of the serial rapist and murderer currently terrorizing the city.  The bastard raped his victims both before and after he killed them.  Everyone wanted the guy taken down, and everyone was frustrated at the lack of leads the CPD had.  Women all over the city were buying pepper spray and rape whistles.  

Despite some good-natured grumbling about her leaving early, and teasing about being obedient to Mouse, Laura said goodbye to the assembled cops and turned for the door.   Olinsky, sitting at one of the tables between her and the door, put a hand out and caught Laura’s arm as she passed.

“Hey, you goin’ home?”

“Yeah, remember?  Tonight’s Mouse’s big gourmet extravaganza.”

“You walking?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s going with you?”

“I’ll be fine, Al.”

Olinsky stood.  “No, no, I’m coming with you.”

“C’mon, Olinsky.  You’re three sheets to the wind.  If he tries anything, the only way you’re gonna be helpful is if I throw you at him.  Stay here. It’s all good.”

“Look, you got two choices,” he said, getting in her face as though he were her father.  “You either let me walk you home, or you promise to text me when you get there.”  

“Fair enough.  It’s only a few blocks.  I’ll be home in less than half an hour and I will text you,” she said, with mock seriousness.  She hugged him briefly before she headed out into the night.

********

As she walked down the darkened street, Laura called Mouse.  

“Hey, babe, I’m on my way home.”  

“Great!  I’ll see you in a few.  I’m at a very delicate stage of the process right now, so I gotta hang up.  Gotta get my Julia Child on.”  

They both laughed as they said goodbye.

She was still smiling as she dropped her phone back into her purse.  As she did, a huge hand grabbed her arm, swinging her around.  As her momentum was still carrying her toward the man behind her, she saw his fist coming at her.  Her body swung into the punch, with all its weight behind it, at the same time the massive fist crashed explosively into her face.  

The world went a very dark, murky shade of red.

********

Al Olinsky was taciturn by nature, preferring to watch and listen rather than call attention to himself.  Although by now he was fairly drunk, his watchful nature kept him dimly aware of the time.  He’d gotten into a long litany of “remember when’s” with a guy he’d been undercover with years before, and he knew Laura should’ve texted by now.  When he looked at his phone, he saw that it had been an hour since she’d left Molly’s.

Damn that kid.  She knew how dangerous the guy out there was.  He never should have let her walk home alone.  He could easily have strong-armed some other uniform to go with her. At the very least, she should have had the sense to remember to call him.  These selfish, stupid, horny kids they were graduating from the Academy now! They didn’t care about anything but the glory of a high-profile bust and getting into each other’s pants.  They had no idea what it was really like out there. They all had to find out the hard way. Well, he supposed he had been no different, but he was still going to give Parker an ass chewing she wouldn’t forget.

He punched in her cell number.  No answer.  He called Mouse’s cell.  If Mouse didn’t answer, Olinsky would have to stop by Parker’s apartment and make sure she was safe.  If he had to do that, he was going to be pissed.

Mouse answered.  “Hey, Detective Olinsky, what’s up?”

“Is your girlfriend home yet?”

“No, and if she doesn’t get here soon, I’m gonna be – Huh.”

“What?”  Olinsky grunted.

“I just looked at the clock.  I’ve been cooking and I didn’t realize how long it’s been since she called.  She should’ve been here a while ago.”  

Suddenly, Olinsky was stone sober.  “Yeah.  Listen, I’m gonna just take a few of the guys and walk her path.  When I find her, you’re gonna hear me light her up from where you are.”

“She’s not walking by herself, is she?”

“Yeah.  She was supposed to text me when she got home.”

Olinsky held his cell out from his ear as Mouse let loose a shouted curse.  

“Stay put.  I’ll find her and bring her home.”

*******

By the time Olinsky, Voight, and Dawson had walked to Parker’s apartment and checked in with Mouse, they were all alarmed.  Voight called the rest of the team at Molly’s and told them to put down their drinks and start toward Parker’s, beating the bushes and checking everywhere on the way.  He would be moving in the opposite direction, doing the same thing.

It was Atwater who found Laura’s purse, tossed under a parked car.  Everything, including cash and her cell phone, was still in it.  Something very bad had happened to her.  They hoped it wasn’t as bad as what they were all thinking, but not saying.

*********

Laura dug the elbow of her left arm in the dirt, pulling herself a few inches forward with it while pushing with her right leg. She hurt everywhere, but her dislocated right shoulder seemed to be the worst.  She could do nothing but drag her useless right arm behind her across the dirt floor of whatever this place was.  Some kind of cellar or underground storage room or something.  She hadn’t seen it from the outside, because she had been all but unconscious as the killer carried her over his shoulder from the sidewalk where he’d attacked her.  She’d regained a foggy consciousness when he’d dumped her on the floor, not even bothering to bend over, so that she fell the full distance from his shoulder.  

She wasn’t going to think about the rest.  All she focused on was getting out.  The killer was behind her, also on the floor.  He wouldn’t be stopping her.  She wasn’t going to think about that, either.

It was so far to the stairs, though.  Her broken left leg was no use, and her broken fingers meant her left hand was useless, too.  All she could do was pull herself along with her left elbow.  But it was so slow, and it hurt so much to move, and she had so far to go…  She laid her head down on the cool dirt for a moment.  No good.  Something broken inside hurt whether she was moving or not, and her shoulder was killing her in any position.  

She lifted her elbow and dug in again.  That fucker was not going to win.  She was not going to let him kill her.  He was the only one who was dying tonight.  

“I will not die here,” she grunted through what was left of her teeth.  Her jaw wasn’t moving right, either.  “I will not die here…”  

She elbowed another few inches, her head collapsing to the dirt once again from pain and exhaustion.  She began to cry again.  

“I’m sorry, Mouse…  I’m so sorry…  I tried to get there…  I’m so sorry…”  Blood, saliva, and tears mixed with the dirt as she wept.

She allowed herself only a few minutes to rest and vent her misery before she slowly, painfully raised her head again.  It was getting hard to see as her eyes swelled. She cried out weakly as she lifted up onto her elbow once again, bent her right leg, and pushed herself another few inches toward the stairs.  She couldn’t imagine how she was going to get up those.  

Another thing she wasn’t going to think about.

“I will not die here…” she shrieked through broken teeth, sobbing.

******

Otis took Voight’s call to the bar phone.  When he let everyone know that Laura was missing and Voight was asking for help to look for her, Molly’s emptied.  Every cop, firefighter, paramedic, doctor, and nurse in the place joined the search.  

Her purse had been found three blocks away.  Worse, several teeth and a lot of blood had been found on the sidewalk nearby.  They could only assume they were hers.  The CPD knew this killer murdered the women close to where he attacked them, and left the bodies where he killed them.  That meant Laura was nearby.  But where?

They knocked on every door, went into every building, shined flashlights into every car and under every tree and bush.  Aside from her purse and bloody teeth, she had vanished.

Voight was angrier than any of them had ever seen him. What happened to Nadia Decotis had been brutal on the whole squad.  He couldn’t endure that again.  And this would be worse.  He wanted to tear every building down brick by brick until they found her.  He thought every moment about what was happening to her, and relentless questioning and searching were the only outlets he had for the overwhelming rage he felt.

He pulled on a metal door on the side of an apartment building.  It was locked, so he moved on.  But something made him turn back around.  He realized he’d been assuming that if a door was locked to him, it was locked to the killer, as well.  What if that wasn’t right?  What if the killer had a key to one of the blind, locked doors they’d bypassed?  He got on his radio and instructed everyone to rouse whoever they had to, to look behind every door in every building along the path between Molly’s and Laura’s apartment.  It would take forever, and he knew some people were likely to object to allowing them to search locked areas.  Voight knew he needed a search warrant, but he wasn’t in any mood to wait for one, or to take no for an answer.

*****

It had now been four hours since Laura had disappeared. With a roiling, sickening pain in his gut, Halstead called Mouse again.  

“Did you find her?”  Mouse’s distraught voice answered.

“Not yet.  I’m just checking in with you.”

“If she’d called or come home, I’d have called you,” Mouse snapped.

“All right, buddy.  I know.  How you holding up?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Right.  Listen, we’re going to find her.  And she’s going to be OK.  You just stay there and wait for good news.  All right?  Can you do that?”

“Yeah.  Yeah. I’m OK.  I’m holding it together.  But it’s killing me sitting on my ass in here.”

********

Laura lay at the base of the stairs.  Her right eye had swollen shut, and she could barely see her right hand through the slit left open in her left.  It hurt to try to focus her eyes.  Her head was pounding and she could hear a shrieking in her ears that she knew wasn’t coming from outside.  She’d thought she was past fear, but there was something very wrong with her head and she knew from the dizziness and fuzziness of her thoughts how serious it probably was.  But she was having trouble looking away from her right hand, covered in a layer of blood and dirt.  She’d done… something with that hand.  She couldn’t remember what, but it was bad.  Very, very bad.  The interesting angle of her middle finger told her it was probably broken, but it hurt so much she thought it more likely it was dislocated.  That seemed an odd thought to have, but she just couldn’t focus her mind.  

She finally turned her head and tried very hard to see the top of the stairs.  She’d made it that far.  Now she needed to find a way to haul her broken body up.  Just one stair.  That was all she’d worry about for now.  She placed her left elbow on the first stair, and braced her right foot.  She tried to take a deep breath in preparation, but it hurt so much she cried out.  Anyway, for some time, she hadn’t been able to breathe right, and it was getting worse. With a colossal effort, she bore down and tried to raise herself one stair.  She fell back, exhausted.  She was simply too spent and too weak to lift herself up.

Her head sunk to the stair.  She wailed to herself, giving in to total defeat and despair. She thought about her parents. They were going to be so very disappointed in her for being so unforgivably cocky that it got her killed. She hoped they’d clean her up before her parents had to identify her body.  

“I’m sorry…  I’m so sorry…”  Her wails were shaky and insubstantial.  She didn’t have the strength to cry.

At that moment, through the fog of confusion that was beginning to be too thick to penetrate, her thoughts focused on Mouse. Mouse who had been through hell and was just coming out the other side.  Mouse, with his beautiful eyes and the adorable way he sometimes talked out of the side of his mouth.  What would happen to him if she died here, bloody and broken, because she was too fucking stupid to let someone walk her home?  No.  That was unacceptable.  She was not going to be the one to destroy all that Mouse had rebuilt.  

She glanced in the direction of the killer.  “Fuck you!  I’m stupid, but you’re fucking dead!” She screamed feebly through a wet, bloody sob.  “I will not die here!  You can’t make me die!”  

She lifted her head, put her elbow on the step, and pushed with every remaining ounce of strength she had, howling with effort. She found her left flank was now balanced precariously on the step.  With that, a small burst of hope fueled a new dig with her elbow and foot, to put her close enough to the bottom stair to try to reach the second with her elbow.  She made the mistake of looking up.  There were ten stairs.  She saw a brief swirl of sparkling stars and passed out.  

******

Mouse couldn’t take one more second in the apartment, useless and crazed with fear.  He’d been trapped there for six hours now, sick with terror and fury. He��d paced until Otis had finally lost his patience and yelled at him to stop.  That had precipitated a brief shouting match that, although it relieved a miniscule fraction of the tension, accomplished nothing.  

Finally, Mouse grabbed his jacket.  He didn’t answer when Otis called after him, just took the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him, slammed open the door at the bottom, and ran out into the night in search of Voight.  He was going to help in the search, with Voight’s blessing or without it.

*****

When she regained consciousness – what passed for consciousness in her current state – Laura had only one thought.  The stairs.  Must get up the stairs.  Ignoring the raging torment that seemed to inhabit every cell of her body, she planted her elbow and foot and yelled as loud as she could as she pushed her torso up to the edge of the second stair.  

“I -will -not -die -here,” she slowly grunted, as she shoved herself further on to the second stair.  She had to rest, gasping for breath through her aching, constricted chest.

Five minutes later, she again moved her elbow to the stair above her and, with tremendous effort, pulled and pushed herself until her chest was halfway between the second and third stair.  It was agony resting her weight on her chest against the edge of the hard wooden stair, but worse was the pain in her left leg.  She could rest her weight on her hip, but she could see her broken thigh bone bulging out the blood-stained leg of her jeans and had to try to twist to avoid it coming in contact with anything.   In a crabbed, twisted position, she used the pain to spur her to push on to the fourth stair.  

At that point, her right foot touched the dirt below the first stair, and she discovered that she could pull with her elbow and push with her foot more easily on the stairs than she’d been able to on the floor.  She dragged her useless right arm and left leg up the next few stairs, shrieking with each attempt to raise herself another step.  She was halfway there.  

She tried to rest.  She couldn’t let her left thigh touch the stairs, and her chest and abdomen were killing her with her weight on them.  The only good news was that her right arm was beginning to go numb.  In the back of her mind, she had a niggling sense that that was not a good thing, but she couldn’t follow the thought.  All she knew was that she had to get up the stairs or she would die.  She couldn’t remember why, but she knew it was true.  If she could just get up the stairs to the door, the pain would stop. She really wanted that.  She was so terribly tired, and hated all this pain so much.  Climb the stairs.  Just get to the top.  That was all she had to do.

She lifted her elbow once again, no longer able to see through the swelling around her eyes.  Blindly, painfully, excruciatingly slowly, she pulled herself up another three stairs over the next hour.  She had passed out twice, although she wasn’t aware of it.  She wasn’t aware of anything.  All she knew was pain and a desperate need to get to the top of the stairs.

********

Al Olinsky was appalled that he had let Laura walk home alone.  He would never forgive himself for that, even if they found her safe and well.  If they didn’t, he didn’t know what could keep him from going off the deep end.  

He threw the building super to the ground at the foot of the rusty steel door that had, at one time, been painted orange.  The guy had made the mistake of taking just a little too long to pick up his keys and run to open all the doors in his building. This was the last.

Trembling and mewling with fear of this obviously unhinged cop, he fumbled the key into the lock and turned it.  Al shoved him roughly aside, knocking him to the ground once again, and tore the door open, shining his flashlight into the darkness. The storage room held lawn equipment, bulk cleaning supplies, and other maintenance items.  No Parker.  Al swore viciously.  

*******

The door felt cool on the back of Laura’s left hand. She pushed at it, but it didn’t move. She wheezed out a groan of frustrated anger with the remaining breath she could move through her tight chest. A knob.  A push bar.  The door had something she had to deal with to make it open.  But she was so tired.  She hurt so much.  And it was so hard to breathe.  She wouldn’t be able to do it much longer.  Maybe this was good enough.  Maybe she could just put her cheek against the nice, cool metal of the door.  

She tried to move forward enough to touch the door with her cheek.  But there wasn’t any way to rest on the stairs.  Everything was broken.  Everything hurt.  She really had to get the door open.  It would be cool outside, and she could maybe breathe easier.  Beyond rational thought, with the singular instinct to open the damn door she’d been trying so hard for so long to reach, Laura pushed up with her elbow and leaned against the door with her cheek.  Even that hurt.  Was her face broken, too?  Could faces break?  She didn’t care.  Air was just on the other side of the doorway, and she needed air so bad.  Why couldn’t she breathe?  

With a superhuman struggle, Laura planted her right foot on the highest stair she could reach, and began to push herself up the door, sliding her cheek against it.  Her left leg screamed as its weight began to hang, and even her numb right arm came to enough life to ache.  But she still pushed.  She had to get air.  She had to. And, there was something… she wasn’t supposed to die here.  Something about somebody who pissed her off, and she had to get out to… do something. It was important not to die here, for some reason.  

At last, she was crouching, leaning with all her weight against the door.  She fumbled out with her left arm, trying to find… something.  She screamed as her broken fingers came into contact with a hard metal object sticking out from the door.  She slapped at it, mumbling curse words because she couldn’t take in enough breath to shout them.  She moved her arm, sliding her cheek just a bit more up the door.  She lifted her arm as far as she could and let it fall down onto the handle, which depressed under the weight of her arm.  

The door opened, and she fell forward, halfway in and halfway out.  She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

*********  

It was Stella Kidd who found her.  As Stella came around the corner of a building half a block from where Laura’s purse had been found, urging a large, sleepy woman in a bathrobe and slippers to hurry up with the keys, she saw light spilling from a door she knew hadn’t been open when she’d checked it before.  A body lay halfway through the doorway, propping the door open.  She had her cell phone out before she reached the body, but for a few seconds, she could only stare in horror.  Finally, she tore her eyes from Laura’s limp, bloody form and pushed the button to call Voight.

[feelingsick]

((Collab with @ocsickficsideblog in which Rhys is Trying and Alistair is Dying))

After several days of being trapped inside caring for Alistair, Julius knew he’d have to go to a lecture and go shopping today - they had barely any food left, and Julius needed his class notes for when Alistair was well enough to catch up. He’d eventually texted Rhys and asked him to come over, knowing the pair were very close.

When Rhys turned up at the door, Julius looked rather frazzled. He led the boy into the living room and showed him the bizarre scene in there. The armchair and the sofa had been pushed close together, with blankets draped over the top of both. There were more blankets and pillows in the dark space between the chairs, and Alistair was curled up in the middle, his hair wild and tangled, his face pale. He had a basin by his side.

Julius smiled wryly at Rhys. “I can’t get him to come out.”

Rhys nodded with a smile, setting his stuff down and peering into the little fort. “Hi.”

“Call if you need anything,” Julius said, slipping out the door.

Alistair looked up in his fort. “Hey, Rhys,” he mumbled, like this was a perfectly normal conversation between two adults.

“C-camping?” Rhys asked, grinning as he inspected the structure.

“This is my burrow,” Alistair said solemnly. “You can come in if you want. Only you and Jules though.”

It took some maneuvering, but Rhys managed to slide in beside him. He pressed a hand to Alistair’s burning forehead, frowning worriedly. Alistair immediately tried to get as much of himself onto Rhys’s lap as was physically possible, clinging to his neck. He was worryingly hot.

“Take...take medicine?” Rhys murmured, running his fingers through Alistair’s sweat-dampened hair. Alistair shook his head stubbornly.

“I don’t want it.”

“Need,” Rhys insisted.

“Just stay here in the fort with me,” Alistair mumbled. He did desperately need medicine - he was dangerously close to needing hospitalisation.

Rhys chewed his lip, thinking. “...M-medicine now,” he said, trying to reason with him. “Then fort.”

Alistair sighed, but nodded. He made no move to get up, clearly just expecting Rhys to carry him by now. Rhys sighed, patting his head before sliding out from under him and crawling out of the fort. As quickly as he could, he dashed around the flat and gathered up some supplies. Medicine, a glass of water, and a damp cloth. Once he had everything, he came back to the fort, kneeling down at the entrance.

“Here,” he said, pouring a couple fever reducers into his hand.  

Alistair looked up at him reproachfully. “You left me here.” He actually looked near tears, the fever messing with his emotions. Rhys frowned, shaking his head.

“No,” he insisted. “N-never.”

“You promise never? You’ll always be my friend? You won’t get sick of me one day and tell me I’m an annoying twat?” Alistair babbled.

“Promise,” Rhys assured, smiling. He held out the pills again. Alistair double checked the package just in case, then took the pills obediently, grabbing Rhys and trying to pull him back into the fort. Sighing, Rhys climbed back into the fort, shifting so that Alistair could lean against him. Taking the damp cloth, he began to dab at Alistair’s forehead, trying to bring his fever down.

Alistair seemed to settle for a while, slumped with his head in Rhys’s lap, but then he curled around his tummy, groaning. Rhys frowned, touching a hand to Alistair’s stomach. He could feel it cramping and churning.

“Alistair,” Rhys murmured sympathetically.

“If I puke again, I’m going to stab someone,” he grumbled. Rhys smiled, but it was clear he was worried. He continued to pet Alistair’s hair, but he reached out and pulled the bin closer just in case. Alistair groped for it, aiming his head over the bin with a groan, his hair tangled in his face. Rhys dutifully attempted to gather his hair back, holding it in a loose ponytail while he rubbed Alistair’s back with his other.

“Okay,” he soothed, though Alistair looked anything but okay.

“Not okay,” Alistair mumbled, and made a small, choked noise like a sob. Then he suddenly heaved, a gush of puke falling into the basin. Even though he should have expected it, the suddenness still startled Rhys. He hooked his arm around Alistair’s chest to help him stay upright, still fighting to keep his long hair out of the way.

“Alistair…”  

Alistair wasn’t able to answer, his stomach clenching as he purged into the bowl, his whole body shaking hard with exertion. After a while it was only Rhys’s arm keeping him upright.

Rhys held him tight, making soft shushing sounds as he continued to be sick. He was starting to get worried, knowing that Alistair had been sick for days already and seeing no signs of that changing anytime soon.

Even when Alistair had finished throwing up, his shoulders continued to shake. He pressed his hands up to his face, trying to cover that he was crying.

“Should Julius?” Rhys questioned softly, already reaching for his phone.

“I don’t know,” Alistair wept. “Rhys, I’m scared… I feel horrible, and it’s not getting better.”

Rhys pulled Alistair into his lap, holding him close. “Got you,” he murmured, but he pulled his phone out and texted Julius a series of exclamation points anyway. Alistair clutched onto Rhys, holding him around the waist and sobbing into his tummy.

Julius text back immediately: ‘How bad is he?’

‘Bad’, Rhys texted back, running his fingers through Alistair’s hair. The redhead held onto Rhys tighter still. Rhys’s phone dinged with a message -Julius said he was coming home.

[obiwan824]

Ill- Anatole Kuragin x Reader

A/N: Featuring lots of platonic Pierre because I love Pierre as a friend, but I worked really hard on this! This is what I’ve been writing all day, haha.

Warnings: Sick people, crying, Anatole crying, Anatole calling the reader ‘honey’ (it makes me melt so just a warning you may experience the same), Pierre angst, Sad Man Pierre, lots of backstory and reading, so this is a more long term reading? Not really a oneshot? It’s kind of confusing but.

“Baby? Baby, please just stay with me-”

Y/N took a deep, shuddering breath. “An-Anatole-”

Kuragin looked down at her with tears in his eyes. “Darling, don’t worry, okay? Just- just stay awake, help is on the way-” he sobbed and looked down, covering his face with his hands. “This is all my fault…”

Y/N feebly reached up and took her hand, her grip so weak and her hand so limp that he began to worry more. “Anatole- it isn’t your fault-”

He sobbed again. “I-I’ll be right back, okay, honey? I’m going to get help.” Y/N nodded. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, squeezed her hand, and walked away. In the corner of the room, a small crowd of fretting people spoke in hushed tones. Anatole approached them anxiously.

“None of the doctors are available,” Helene said softly when he reached her, looking down. “There’s nobody who can help.”

Anatole put a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry. Tears poured down his face, he looked back at his wife- pale, a sheen of sweat covering her face. “There must be someone who can help.” When none of his friends replied, Anatole grew angry. “Think, goddamnit!”

Helene flinched and put a hand on his arm. “Anatole, sweetie, you have to calm down!”

“How can I calm down?” he shrieked. “The- the love of my life is dying, and-” he paused for a moment and began to pace, chewing his lip. His head snapped up to meet his sister’s gaze. “Pierre.”

“Pierre…?” as it hit Helene, the corners of her mouth turned down. “Anatole-”

“It’s our only chance.” Anatole studied his sister for a moment before turning away again. He quickly took out a piece of paper and scribbled a note for his old friend. He handed it to Dolokhov slowly. “Balaga.”

Dolokhov looked at his best friend with confusion until he realized. A sparkle came to his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “At once.” Fedya turned and ran off, leaving Anatole alone with his sister and Y/N.

“This can’t be good, can it?” Helene asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice, but a smile was prominent on her face. Anatole barely managed a thin grin before his mask slipped and the tears returned. “Brother-”

“I have to be next to her if- if it happens.” Anatole looked at his sister with desperation until she had run the sentence over in her mind a few times.

“She’s going to be-”

Anatole put a hand on her shoulder to silence her. “I can’t be sure.” Rubbing at his eyes, he walked back to his wife, taking her hands in his and pulling them up to his lips.

“Anatole?”

Her voice was so quiet, so weak, but the quiet sound made him look at her quickly. “Y/N.”

She bit her lip. “If I don’t-”

“Hush now,” Anatole said soothingly. “Let’s not think of that now, huh?” Her lip began to quiver and he was quick to place a kiss on her cheek. “Honey…”

Meanwhile, the note had arrived in Moscow. Pierre, alone in his study, jumped at the sudden knock on his door. He slowly put the book away, pushed his slipping spectacles up the bridge of his nose, and answered the door.

“Balaga,” Pierre said slowly, sure that the driver could only be bringing trouble. He took the note that was shoved at him and unfolded it, scowling when he recognized Anatole’s handwriting. He tried to hand it back. “I don’t want to hear from him.”

Balaga only turned and walked away. Pierre huffed, realizing his only option was to read the note, throw it away, and finally be done with Kuragin once and for all. He hadn’t heard from Anatole since he had left for Petersburg, and he hadn’t seen his wife since she had received a similar note inviting her to spend time with her brother. He liked it this way- in the peace and quiet of his own, empty home, he could finally dwell on his feelings for the Countess and write them down without prying eyes searching for any bit of gossip he might have left around. Pierre finally looked down at the letter, wondering what the prince could possibly want now- money, most likely.

Pierre-

This is a matter of great importance. I cannot begin to express to you how much I regret my actions of the past and how sorry I am that I had to bother you once again. However, my beloved, Y/N, has fallen ill. None of the doctors can come to our home and she is too ill to leave. I know of your previous medical experience, and I beg of you- I understand you may never forgive what I have done to the Countess, as I know I will not forgive myself, but if you would help my wife- I would do anything to make it up to you.

Do not think of this as helping me, because you never have to help me out again. I understand if you decide not to help and think of it as revenge to me, but by getting your revenge, you are taking the life of an innocent young girl who has done nothing.

Her life is in your hands.

Anatole Kuragin

“Damn it,” Pierre growled. Throwing on his coat and clutching the letter tightly, he got in the troika.

...

“Pierre.” Anatole’s voice was shaky, unlike anything Pierre had ever heard. He had doubted himself on the way to Petersburg, wondered whether Anatole loved Y/N or if she was just another woman he would forget about, but seeing the tears pouring down his face and the anxiety in his eyes, all doubts flew out of his mind.

Pierre nodded stiffly and walked to her other side, letting Anatole keep his seat next to her. Kuragin still had Y/N’s hands pressed tightly against his lips. Y/N watched everything with eyes that were not quite there, still shaking. Anatole watched in a similar way, although illness had nothing to do with it.

“She’ll be okay,” Pierre said quietly, his voice rough and hoarse from not speaking for so long. “I can save her.”

Anatole burst into tears, but a small smile was on his face. Looking at him, Pierre almost felt as if he was doing something right. He threw himself into his work, not wanting to look at Anatole and feel for him any longer.

…

Pierre came to the door slowly, his feet dragging. Helene would be there any moment, the wife that he tried so desperately to forget. She had done so much to him, cheating on him with multiple men and having an affair with Dolokhov, yet he could not do the same to her, leaving him completely alone.

When he answered the door, however, a familiar smile greeted him.

“Pierre Bezukhov,” Y/N said quietly, dropping into a formal curtsy. Finding himself smiling, Pierre mimicked her actions with a bow.

“Y/N Kuragina, are you well?”

Y/N giggled. “Of course, I only came to pay you a visit- and- well, I know I’m not exactly welcome-”

“No, no, of course,” Pierre quickly interrupted. “You are always welcome, my dear.”

Her smile grew. “I just wanted to thank you. And- and my husband- he’s aware of what he has done- he wanted to come and tell you himself, but he knew he would be unwelcome- but he wanted to apologize. Not just for the-” she paused, gathering her thoughts, obviously uncomfortable with the elopement her husband had almost had. “Incident, but for all the years he spent asking for money and treating you wrongly.”

“He isn’t unwelcome,” Pierre choked out, unable to say anything else. He didn’t want to say it, the words felt bitter on his tongue like venom, but he knew it was only polite. He didn’t want to see the man again, but all must be forgiven eventually.

Y/N nodded and met his eyes. “We both know that isn’t true, my friend.” She shifted. “But thank you. Helene and my husband traveled with me, she’s right out there,” Y/N gestured to the troika. “So this is goodbye.”

Pierre swallowed hard, but some sort of relief had come over him, the heavy weight resting on his chest, making it hard to breathe, that he had felt ever since he had woken up dreading his wife’s return, hearing her words. “Of course.”

Y/N smiled one last time before turning away. Pierre shut the door but immediately ran to the window, pulling apart the curtains and watching through the glass. He felt awkward doing so, but he felt a need to see Anatole again.

Helene stepped out of the troika and into Y/N’s arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek before turning back to the house, stepping up the walkway with distaste present on her face. Y/N watched for a moment until Anatole stepped out, pulling his wife against his chest. He pressed light kisses to her forehead and down her cheeks to her jaw until she giggled and pushed him away. He gave her one sweet kiss to her lips before Pierre heard Helene turning the doorknob. He pulled away from the window and shut the drapes quickly, leaning against the windowsill as casually as he could.

He never thought he would envy Anatole’s love life, but in that moment, Pierre wanted nothing more than to have what Kuragin and Y/N had.

[loseitall-ff]

7. Part 2

Staring ahead of me “was that Rihanna?” Keeis said in a whisper, breaking my stare from the wall “yeah” I sighed out “thought so, she good?” I shrugged, turning around “is she good though?” Mijo asked “I have no idea, I am so confused. How can she just come to me like that” I am not sure if to go upstairs or just stay here “do me favour, uhm. Just get everyone out for me yeah. I rather nobody here” Mijo hit my arm “got you, let me know if you need anything though” scratching the top of my head making my way to the stairs, I am just in shock a little because this is not my Robyn that I know. She has Mel, that is her friend so why me. I am just going to guess that she is using my bedroom bathroom, sharply breathing in. Walking ever so slowly to the room, I am just scared to hear anything that has happened to her but then again when Robyn is drunk, she tends to come to me and tell me how she feels but she doesn’t seem drunk at all.

Seeing Robyn’ clothes on my bed, she is in my bathroom but I don’t know if to just walk in. I mean I am an asshole but when it comes to Robyn, I have a little respect for her. I have never had to question myself on whether to walk into Robyn having a bath or not, this situation is just different and I can feel it. I know the door is a little open but I am just going to knock and do the decent thing, that is my baby mother and what not. Lightly knocking on the door “uhm, it’s me. You good in there?” I said aloud, hearing the water splash, the sound of her moving. She didn’t speak a word, I can’t help but to have a little look. Slowly poking my head around the door, seeing the bathtub filled to the rim. Her head against the headrest, the water just flowing just under her neck. My jaw flinched seeing the tear slowly fall from her eye. My eyes slowly closed remembering the time when Robyn was pregnant, she had me running her baths all the damn time and the one time she was near the end of the pregnancy. All I remember is Robyn shouting me and I came running, her lazy ass couldn’t get up out of the bathtub. The struggle to get her up while her body being soapy, I grinned to myself opening my eyes.

I want to speak to her but then again I feel like she don’t want to speak, moving my head back. Let me act like I wasn’t just watching her “Robyn, you good in there?” asking again, hearing Robyn clear her throat “you can come in” her voice so low, pushing the door open slowly. Chewing my bottom lip, I am dying to know what happened because why me. Out of all the people in her life, I know Robyn, she has good people in her life so she would go to them. I don’t know what to say now because deep down I am scared to know. Rubbing my hands together “you mind if I sit on the side?” I pointed, she opened her hazel eyes slowly, those beautiful eyes that are now red “yeah, you can” releasing my bottom lip from the grip of my teeth, I am nervous. Slowly sitting on the edge of the bathtub “is this water hot enough for you?” this is steaming and a little too hot for my liking “I don’t know, is it too hot?” she asked, I shrugged “from when I remember, you liked it a little warm. You didn’t like it this hot” maybe she has changed “I don’t feel it” furrowing my eyebrows.

The silence is driving me crazy so I have to say something “I know you, this is not you. Something has happened, tell me? I mean you don’t have to tell me because I would never say no to you having a hot bath here but I am just confused, speak to me. I know I am the last guy you want to speak too but also I am the last guy you would come too, unless drunk” she knows I am right, she swallowed hard not looking at me “come on Robyn, it’s me. Something made you come to me, even when your ass is drunk you come to me. Talk to me, who is it? I still care, I cut all communications with you but here you are” feeling a wet hand placed onto mine, Robyn finally looked at me and I swear I felt a shudder down my back “you right” is the only thing she said.

Looking down at Robyn’ hand atop of mine “talk to me shawty, what is wrong? You know I got you” she sniffled, she took in a breath but it looked like the thought in her mind was too painful, the look of fear on Robyn’ face took me “you need to tell me now, I am not here for this at all. Talk to me, what happened?” Robyn stared into my eyes, moving her hand away from mine as she shuffled up a little, the water still covering her breasts “I was a little tipsy, I drank again so it’s my fault” she doesn’t look drunk to me at all “we had sex, as always” she closed her eyes “he got a little too rough, I said to him stop. Please you’re getting rough, he kept going. I tried to move, he’s a heavy guy” is this real life, are these words even coming out of her mouth “Mychal?” I said to confirm, Robyn nodded her head. Bringing her legs up to herself, I am numb to this information she is telling me “let me get this straight, Mychal raped you?” Robyn’ eyes flew open “don’t say that, we are adults. I was drunk things happen” shaking my head “he raped you, Robyn what the fuck?” she grabbed my arm “you the only person I could go too, I can’t go to my family. They would make it into a big thing, please don’t say that. I want this forgotten, you can’t say anything” she pleaded with me “it is a big thing, Robyn..” I dragged out, she is in denial.

I feel sick to my stomach, she is being blind to the real truth. My heart broke for her “nah, just because you had sex, you said stop” getting up from the edge of the bathtub, her hand snatched away from my arm “fuck” I can feel the anger in my body, I want to kill him “where is he?” I asked, Robyn shook her head “leave it, please Chris. I want to be forgotten” shaking my head “Robyn, you finna tell me where he is!” she got up from the bathtub, I don’t know who she is trying to stop. My eyes fell to her waist. I can’t even stand to see it, turning around and walking away. She has a bruised waist, I am so angry right now. Rubbing my head, he about to get this shit. Getting my phone out of my pocket, I will get him myself. The images of Robyn’ waist blurred my vision and the thought of that happening “fuck!” I shouted out, throwing my phone straight through my balcony window, the smashing of glass to the ground “you need to fucking tell me right now! Tell me where he is!?” I shouted, pacing back and forth “Chris what the fuck!?” Mijo shouted outside the door, I am so angry and I don’t give a fuck right now.

I was about ready to leave, that phone fell on my car. Everyone is gone and I was about to go, I don’t want to walk in even though the door is half open “Chris, the fuck are you doing in that room?” I am panicking here, I heard Rihanna say she was having a bath, I don’t want to see her naked. I was about to just bite the bullet and walk in but I heard stomping “fuck you!” the door slammed shut, he hit it so hard it just came flying back open “you need to calm down” I don’t even know where Rihanna is, seeing Chris I got a little scared my damn myself, he is so mad “you need to go, I fucking told you to go! Why the fuck are you here?” I didn’t know what to say to him “Robyn, tell me where he is now? I swear I am going to kill someone” holy shit, I just need to walk in and be blind to Rihanna if she is naked or not.

Walking into the bedroom “Chris, tell me what has happened” staring ahead of me, Chris is breathing so heavy staring at what I can think is Rihanna at the side of us “leave it Chris” Rihanna said in a whisper “leave it!? Fucking leave it” he covered his face with his hands “Chris just calm down” I said, Chris gripped my tee pushing me back out of the room “get the fuck out!” he pushed me down to the ground, I am a big guy myself and he pushed me down, staring up at my brother “Mijo, just go. It’s ok. Honestly I can deal with him” seeing Rihanna behind him with a towel wrapped around her body, Chris moved back from me “you telling me where he is now, you fucking telling me now! Where is Mychal! Where!? I told you he is a bad guy!” Rihanna shook her head “please stop” she said fighting back a cry, Chris stormed off back into the room. He is like the hulk, getting up from the floor and hearing what I can think is a television being hit to the ground “Mijo, honestly it’s fine. Being here is making it worse” I can’t leave her with him, he is an animal “if I couldn’t handle him I would’ve said” somehow I believe her.

Searching Robyn’ pockets from her clothing on the bed, feeling a card in her pocket. Pulling the card out “hotel Bel-Air” I said reading the card, he will feel the pain she is feeling. Turning around “no!” Robyn snatched the card from my hand, the towel she held around her body fell to the ground “you’re not doing this, I came to you. Stop it” she slowly leaned down to pick the towel up but I stopped her, I reached down picking the towel up slowly for her. I didn’t look at her body, not because I am ashamed but because it hurts to see. Placing the towel around her shoulders covering her body, Robyn didn’t once look at me. She let out a sob, her head hitting my chest “why won’t you let me get him” wrapping my arms around her “I told you he was bad news, why didn’t you listen to me” my heart hurts so much to hear Robyn cry, she is in pain and there is nothing I can do about this to make her better.

I still want to kill him, he will somehow feel the pain. I will get him, Robyn sat down across from me in my oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Looking down at my hand, a slight cut to my knuckle but it’s nothing to worry about “I’m sorry I put this on you” Robyn spoke, looking up from my hand “don’t say that” watching Robyn stare down at herself “you now have a broken window and TV, I had nobody else” she mumbled “what if I wasn’t here?” I questioned “then I do what I am good at, hide the pain. Cry and get over it, I just didn’t know where to go too. I had nothing, sat in a cab and I didn’t know where to go” shuffling closer to Robyn, she rubbed her hands together “I drink, I always do. Numbs me at times, I thought to myself I need to move on. I need to be happy, I need to be just like him. Be over something without a care in the world and I tried so hard. He was on me and I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t stop it” she cried out “I tried but I let that happen” tears falling, grabbing Robyn’ hand “you didn’t let anything happen, stop blaming yourself. This is not your fault, I want to kill him for you” tears fell from my eyes automatically “no man is good for you, I keep telling you this. Not even me. Stop blaming yourself” sniffing as I wiped my tears away, I feel so bad.

I can’t believe that this has happened, it has to be some sort of dream “you think things like that would never happen to you, but you’re lying there helpless, the man is just enjoying himself. I never thought” I said shaking my head “thought it would happen to Rihanna?” she finished off for me “yeah” I said, I sighed “you can’t let this go Robyn” she shook her head “no, I am not doing it. I am not being the victim again, I am not going through that shit again in my life. My family, my friends will never know, my daughter will never know. You never to tell anybody, I am trusting you because you’re the only man I know that I can trust with this. I needed someone and I know I can come to you, I am sorry I never listened but I am suffering like I always do” she wiped her nose with the sleeve of my hoodie “I don’t want to ever mention this again, I feel dirty. I feel disgusting inside Chris, I laugh at the person that would want to be me because it’s nothing good” I don’t think he should get away with this shit, he needs to get a beating “where is your stuff?” she wiped a tear that fell “I ran out of the room, it’s in the room. He was asleep” she needs her stuff back “I think he will be ashamed, let me please get your stuff. He won’t want this to come out, I am calm. Let me get your things” she needs to let me do this.

Stopping outside the Bel-Air hotel “you keep your ass in the car, give me the key card” holding my hand out, Robyn has been hanging her head low for the whole car journey “please don’t do anything stupid, think of me. I don’t need to be shamed, people think I am some hoe already. They will think I deserve it” gripping the steering wheel “please stop talking like that, stop that shit. Wait in the car” snatching the card from her “you move, the car alarm will come on. I am locking you inside” pulling the car door up “hurry up, I don’t want to be alone” getting out of the car “I won’t” closing the door, locking the door with Robyn inside. It will keep her ass inside even though she won’t move, she is not the woman I know right now.

The door unlocked which is a great sign, pushing the door open. Nice room, looking around the dimly lit room. Scanning the room, seeing his suitcase. Rubbing my face and making my way to the bedroom, I have to remember that this nigga is built like a caveman and could beat my ass but then again I think I can get him. Seeing the bottle of Ace of Spades, grabbing the bottle as I walked straight ahead. The bottle is still full, I should be just getting Robyn’ stuff but I need to do my thing. Pushing the bedroom door open, the room is blacked out. Looking to the side of me and pressing the light switch on, I snorted seeing that nigga sleeping, I could just kill him. Walking into the bedroom and making my way over, I feel myself getting angry seeing the bed alone, my grip on the bottle tightened.

Standing at the side of the bed, contemplating on many of things and also killing him is one of them. I need to calm the fuck down, clenching my jaw as I held the bottle over his face and poured the contents on his face. He gasped awake, letting the bottle go and allowing it to fall on his face “surprise motherfucker!” stuffing my hands in my pockets watching him struggle, he jumped out of bed holding the blankets around his body “are you fucking crazy!?” He spat in shock “I said I would get you, I am that crazy motherfucker you called the police on. You might want to put some clothes on” I am glad to see the bottle has cut his eye lid, seeing him squirm and falling over himself “you lucky I didn’t kill you” I will wait until he can put some pants on, I am not about that shit. This guy is built so big but I am not scared, no wonder Robyn’ small frame was stuck.

He pulled his sweatpants up walking over to me in shock “how the fuck you get in the room?” he stormed towards me “I mean, I just came to get Robyn’ things” I pointed at her bag, Mychal turned his head to look and then looked back at me, I punched him square in the face. Mychal stumbled back, not expecting that. I did karate and boxing, I will beat his ass. Mychal froze touching his nose “you fucked with the wrong woman, I told her I would be good but I can’t help but hit you.” Mychal charged at me, angry and yelling, I simply stepped to the side as he missed me.

Mychal hit himself into the wall but he turned around, I managed to punch him again in the same spot and heard his nose crack. I hit him again, this time in the chest. He staggered backwards and I charged at him punching blows to his face “you want to rape women, you sick fuck!” I shouted “I want to fucking kill you” punching him in the stomach, looking up Mychal head-butted me in the mouth and pushed me back “that is a lie!” he shouted back, touching my bottom lip “you stay away from Robyn, you raped her. She said no and you know she did, I swear to fucking god, I want to kill you! You dickhead, you better watch your fucking back. You stay away from my family” Mychal chuckled “like your daughter, I spoke to her” I am going to jail tonight, this nigga “you know what, I am not doing it. I want to see my daughter grow up” it is taking all of me to do this and walk away “you stay away or I will make sure your career is over, rapist” I spat on the ground before walking off.

Banging the car door shut “here” passing Robyn her Jacket and bag on to her lap “your knuckle, Chris” I am angry, so very angry “don’t want to talk about it, so very close. I wanted to strangle him. Motherfucker!” punching the steering wheel “Chris please stop” he mentioned my daughter, he mentioned my fucking daughter “I wanted to kill him, I don’t feel I have done much for you. I let him get away with it” I feel so bad because this is on me too “stop, I just want to get away from this. Please let’s just go” I honestly want to cry, this is so fucked up.

[roxiesdiary-blog]

Dawn of Change, Chapt 3

Hi, everyone! Welcome to my third diary posting! I hope that you enjoy reading about my adventures in Magnolia, Fiore! If you want to read further than this chapter, there are 4 more after this, all posted on the following websites. Just follow the link you want to follow! Also, please don’t forget to favorite/follow/bookmark and comment.

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6555616

FF.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11262127/1/Fairy-Tail-Dawn-of-Change

In this third chapter, Natsu, Lucy and I arrive in Magnolia and I finally get to meet the Fairy Tail guild! Including my hero, Gray Fullbuster. Now, then. Here we go!

Exhaust burned in her lungs as Roxanne strained to catch the bus, jumping over the curb lithely as she stretched her legs as far as she could. Before her, Nicole, Melody and Jacob were on the bus, waving back at her through the glass at the rear of the vehicle. Their lips were moving so Roxanne knew that she shouldn't be able to hear what they said, but their words still traveled to her ears clearly.

"It's your fault you'll be late." That was Nicole's voice, as gentle as ever but the reprimand still stung. Roxanne knew she responsible, and to be reprimanded by Nicole hurt much more than the words ever could. "You shouldn't have turned off the alarm."

"Now you'll be late and you only have yourself to blame," Melody said. Her voice was wispy like a cloud, disappearing quickly into the background. "But we won't be late because we got up on time."

"How can you expect to be worthy of my love if you can't even wake up when you're supposed to?" Jacob asked harshly, the question cutting Roxanne to the quick. She stumbled as her brother hurled her greatest fear at her, making her wish to bleed so her pain would have a physical form. It didn't matter that the real Jacob would never say such a cruel thing, that this was a dream. Her brother's words still hurt deeply. "You'll only be a burden to others if you make them wait for you. Haven't I taught you anything?"

"Wait, please! Jacob, come back!" Roxanne shouted as she got up and raced for the bus once again. "I promise I won't sleep in again, so please don't leave me. Jacob!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched the bus turn a corner and her friends and brother faded from sight, leaving her alone once more.

Heartbroken, she slowed and fell to her knees. "Please. Don't leave me," she sobbed and covered her face with her hands.

"Roxanne!" A strange voice called out. "Roxanne, wake up!"

Roxanne jerked awake as her mind forced itself to awareness, wrenching Rox away from the dream and into real life in the space of a heartbeat. "I won't sleep in again, I promise!" she shouted, not yet recognizing the change from dream to reality. Then she blinked, awareness setting in as she saw Lucy's startled face to her left. "Morning," she whimpered as she started crying again, still shaken from the nightmare.

"Oh, Roxanne." Frowning in sympathy, Lucy sat down and hugged her. "Shh, shh, it's alright," she said gently, stroking the younger girl's hair as she cried herself out.

Once she was able to wipe away her tears, Lucy handed her a bottle of water and a box of tissues, which Roxanne quietly accepted.

"Thanks," she whispered as she blew her nose and threw the tissue in the trash, then uncapped the water bottle. "I'm sorry I cry so much."

"You don't have to apologize," Lucy assured her patiently. "You've been through a lot, and crying is the body's way of adjusting to things. So cry all you need."

"Thank you. That's really kind of you." Roxanne nodded, feeling reassured. She wiped her eyes again and jumped out of bed, determined to not let her old life upset her new life anymore. The past was in the past, and the time for grieving was over, at least for now. Today, she had to focus on becoming a mage and joining Fairy Tail, living her dream to the fullest. There was no room for distractions. "Where are Natsu and Happy?"

"They're downstairs in the restaurant, eating lunch."

Lunch?! Did I really sleep in so late?

As if seeing Roxanne's thought in her eyes, Lucy replied quickly. "You've had a hard few days, so Natsu and I decided to let you sleep. It seemed cruel to wake you, so we decided that we could always catch the next train."

"Oh… You didn't have to do that." Rox mumbled, feeling another rush of gratitude and shame. Once again, she'd held up the group. They could have been in Magnolia by now! Lucy would be a part of the guild now, and Rox would know what her future would hold, and the anime would continue. But instead, they were still in this hotel. Why? Because Roxanne had needed the sleep… and Lucy and Natsu had been kind enough to recognize that, and thoughtful enough to be okay with the delay.

Roxanne felt tears coming to her eyes again. What a foundation for a friendship she was laying with them; nothing but lies from her while they were nothing but kind to her. "Thank you."

Lucy smiled in a 'You're welcome but it'd be crass to say it this time" sort of way, and then she took a breath, thus ending that conversation.

"Speaking of lunch, you should come eat."

Roxanne nodded her understanding. She knew she needed to eat, but the dream had left her without much appetite. "When does the train leave?" She would eat later.

"Not for another few hours," Lucy assured her. "We wanted to make sure that Natsu would have enough time to digest some of his lunch first."

Roxanne gave Lucy a puzzled look, knowing that she shouldn't know about the Salamander's motion sickness yet. "So, can I take a shower?" she asked. "I'll meet you in the restaurant afterwards, I promise."

"Of course you can take a shower, but I don't mind waiting." Lucy smiled at her. "I'd rather wait then risk you getting lost."

"I'd rather not keep you waiting. My mom always said that keeping people waiting for you was rude. Besides, if I get lost I can ask for directions," Roxanne insisted. She really didn't want Lucy to wait for her. Her dream had scared her, and she didn't want anyone to wait for her ever again.

"Well, alright then," Lucy conceded doubtfully. "If you're sure. I'll be at the restaurant." She stood and made her way to the door.

"Thanks, Lucy," Roxanne said as Lucy smiled and closed the door. Rox nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

When she was done, Roxanne made her way downstairs. One look at a directory sign told her that trying to read the plaque would be a wasted effort, since it was written in the runic language Fiore used, rather than English. Whatever magic let her understand people talking, and let them understand her, it didn't extend to the written word, so she was forced to find the front desk and ask directions from the clerk. Thankfully the lady was quite happy to help and before long Roxanne was sitting down next to Lucy at the restaurant bar.

"I ordered you the same thing we had last night. You seemed to like it. I hope that's okay." Lucy smiled as Roxanne sat down beside her, nodding.

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks, Lucy." Roxanne responded, easily hiding her discomfort. Last night's dinner had been composed of some kind of sauce, an animal that resembled an octopus or a squid, lots of bread and various strange-looking fruits on the side. Roxanne was not eager to eat that meal again now that she was not literally dying, but she would eat it regardless because this was the food of Earthland. She would not find any food from her world here, so she needed to swallow her discomfort and eat.

That's not to say that she didn't still struggle to keep the food moving past her teeth. She'd done alright the night before—near-starvation had done wonders for her appetite despite her disgust—but now it wasn't so easy. She had to suppress the urge to shiver in distaste as she stabbed a tentacle with her fork. All her life she'd been taught to eat whatever she was given without complaint, since hiding one's distaste was an essential skill for any upper-class family. So that was what she did. She closed her eyes tightly, took a deep breath and held it so she wouldn't smell the food, and then shoved the forkful in her mouth. She winced as the 'calamari' touched her tongue, but she didn't give in to her instincts. She chewed and swallowed quickly before she could analyze the flavor and texture.

Allowing herself to shiver now, she took another breath and repeated the process, unaware of Lucy watching her. They ate in silence until Natsu and Happy's noise interrupted their thoughts. Both looked over at the boys and frowned.

"Jeez, Natsu! Do you have to eat like that?" Lucy shrieked, ducking behind a menu as some food came flying at her. "We've got plenty of time before the train gets here, so you don't have to rush."

"I'm not rushing." Natsu mumbled with a mouth full of food. "I'm just hungry."

"But it's rude to throw food and to chew with your mouth open. And it's just unsafe to eat without chewing in the first place!" Lucy retaliated, and Roxanne had to agree. One of the first things she'd been taught when she was little was proper table etiquette in a variety of settings. For this hotel, which seemed to be middle-class, it was acceptable for her to eat with her elbows on the table and to use her utensils a bit more carelessly than usual. But no matter the setting, eating like Natsu was sickening.

"She's right, Natsu. Eating like that is really gross." Roxanne said with a frown.

"So what?" Natsu asked. "I mean, we all have our own ideas about food. Look at you. You can barely tolerate the squid, and yet you're eating it."

"I'm eating it because I don't want to starve.”  Roxanne accentuated, not raising her voice in volume but making her point known using her tone. “And I doubt I'll find any food from home, so I have to learn to at least tolerate what's in front of me. But what you're doing is sending perfectly cooked, germy food flying, which is going to make someone sick. And you're chewing with your mouth open, so everyone has to see you chewing, and it's gross and it's going to make someone throw up." It certainly wasn't helping her keep her own food down. "Really, didn't your parents teach you about manners?"

"His parents?" Lucy asked, and Roxanne cringed. She'd said too much. Oh crap!

"If you mean Igneel, he taught me about different cultures, theories and other stuff, but he never enforced manners," Natsu said simply, his mouth still stuffed with food.

Roxanne turned her attention back to her own meal. She pondered Natsu's response, remembering that Natsu once summarized the lessons Igneel the fire dragon had taught him. Manners had not made the list. Was it because Natsu had not deemed that information worthy of being repeated when he was new to the guild, or had Igneel never taught him? Or had Natsu simply forgotten?

Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she sighed and turned back to her food, noting in the back of her mind how very Gray-like she must appear to be right then. "Whatever. I guess if it was that important, someone would have taught you by now. Sorry to be so mean, Natsu. Let's just say bad manners are a pet peeve of mine."

Natsu shrugged, not offended. "It's cool."

After that, the meal continued in a kind of haphazard peace. Natsu and Happy continued their antics while Lucy and Roxanne scooted further down the bar to avoid the flying food. After a while, Natsu and Lucy paid for the meal and the group went back upstairs to gather their belongings. After that, Roxanne and Happy left checking out up to the adults, preferring to venture outside and play. Roxanne made a game out of chasing Happy around, who didn't fly too far out of her reach nor too high, teasing Roxanne with the tip of his tail. The whole village could hear Roxanne's laughter as she chased Happy in circles, and Natsu and Lucy watched on quietly from the train platform. They watched as the child who had already seen so much destruction chased a flying cat as if she didn't have a care in the world. They watched as she was able to put aside her worries and fears, and just be a kid. The sight made Lucy smile, and Natsu tried to hide his own as well but there was a light shining in his eyes that matched the radiance of Lucy's smile.

When Roxanne heard the train whistle and raced to the platform, she could have sworn she saw tears in Lucy's eyes as Natsu smiled in a way that she hadn't seen before. This baffled her, but she brushed it off as the train whistle blew again. Seeing the train now, she squealed and ran around a bit more. For her, this was more than a train in front of her. It was the beginning of her new life, the beginning of a dream that's finally coming true.

The train pulled to a stop and Roxanne was the first one onboard, racing to an empty pair of seats and quickly claiming the window view. Lucy sat down beside her, while Natsu and Happy sat down across from them. Roxanne couldn't help but notice the green tint in Natsu's skin.

Just a few moments after that, the train whistle blew once again and the train began moving. Simultaneously, Natsu gagged and collapsed to lay prone on the seat. While Lucy commented about Natsu's motion sickness, Roxanne just watched the country roll past them, happy beyond measure.

"Lucy, how long will it take until we get to Magnolia?" She asked for a few minutes.

"It should be about two and a half hours." Lucy replied, digging in her bag for something.

"Aww! That long?!" She pouted but quickly sighed and resigned herself to the wait. "Well, guess I might as well get some sleep, then." She curled up on her side, feet braced against the side of the train, knees turned toward Natsu. She lay down and wriggled a bit, trying to get comfy on the too-hard bench, but was soon asleep. Happy watched the little girl and quickly joined her, curling up next to her stomach. Lucy smiled at the picture for a few moments then she turned her head and spent the next two hours writing a letter.

Lucy woke Roxanne and Happy almost three hours later as the train finally pulled into the Magnolia train station. Because she'd been in a deep sleep, it took Roxanne a bit of time to wake up and comprehend where she was. Once she had, though, she raced off of the train and waited not-so-patiently on the platform while Lucy and a Natsu-ridden Happy followed. Roxanne bounced on her toes, aching to run around and get some of this energy out of her system. But she didn't complain too much as they waited for Natsu to recover, then they set off for the guild together. Roxanne, however, raced ahead of the adults about twenty meters before she turned tail and raced back to them to make sure she was going the right way, only to turn around and race back toward the guild. Happy laughed and joined her in her game, flying along beside her. Again, Lucy and Natsu watched the girl and the cat play and the crowd also parted for Roxanne. The mothers smiled as they watched, the children cheered and a few of the younger ones ran with her while their older siblings watched with their parents, and some of the fathers just watched. A couple of them smiled and laughed, a few were silent but moved out of the way, while a few more made their bodies into obstacles, intending to play along with the children. Roxanne was happy to dodge around these adults, testing her physical limitations and agility.

By the time the trio made it to the guild hall, Roxanne was quite thoroughly out of breath, but she couldn't be happier as she gazed at the building before her. She was stunned into silence. After all, here was concrete proof that she was where she'd always wanted to be, that her life was more than manners and fancy dresses. Here, she would find friends and a true family, find a new meaning for her life. Here, she could be anyone she wanted to be. And she burned with her desire for this opportunity.

She looked at Natsu and smiled. She was ready. He nodded and walked calmly to the door.

Then he took a breath… and kicked the door in.

Lucy was stunned at Natsu's violence at the defenseless, undeserving door, but Roxanne just rolled her eyes and followed Lucy inside the guild as Natsu launched himself at one of the guild members, thus starting the brawl that never failed to make her laugh. Feigning fright, she ducked behind Lucy's legs and watched as member after member got pulled into the fight. She almost lost her mind when she found Gray and had to stop herself from running to Loki to hug him, and she so badly wanted to stand beside Elfman and mime his lines and mimic his movements.

Restraining herself was a challenge that became even more unbearable when the ground shook, marking the entrance of a shadowy figure that was as tall the guild hall itself.

"Would you fools stop bickering like children?!" The figure yelled, and the entire guild hall froze. Well, except for Natsu. Roxanne and Lucy watched as Natsu laughed at his frozen comrades, boasting about how he must have won. His laughter was cut hilariously short as the figure's foot landed on him. Roxanne cowered behind Lucy's legs a bit more as Lucy also recoiled in fear.

"Well, seems like we have two new recruits." The figure growled as he turned his attention to Rox and Lucy. It was then that Roxanne truly got an idea of how large he was, and she felt even smaller than usual. She grew nervous and swallowed heavily as she tried to rally herself, reminding herself that this is Makarov! He was big now, and he sounded ferocious, but that was an act he rarely put on. He wouldn't hurt her unless she proved herself to be a threat to the guild, so there was no reason for her to be afraid. However, no amount of reasoning could stem the apprehension that was now flooding her mind. Looking at the behemoth, she felt so very small. She felt like a fly compared to this guy before her. One massive finger could easily crush her. With a squeak that wasn't entirely faked, she ducked behind Lucy.

"Yes, sir!" The girls responded, Lucy's voice was tinged with surprise while Roxanne's voice held a couple notes of fear.

Then, without a response, the shadow growled again and he began to shrink. He went from two stories tall to about two feet tall, which shocked Lucy heavily and Roxanne was fascinated by the change. Even though she had been expecting it, and knew that this particular man was far more powerful than he seemed, Roxanne still stared curiously at him. It also helped that the fear went away so she was able to let her real self shine through.

"Nice to meet ya!" The old, short man greeted them, raising a hand in hello.

"Hello," Roxanne replied as Lucy replied in a… rather rude manner. "He's tiny! This little guy's really in charge here?"

"Of course he is!" Mirajane chirped. "Allow me to introduce the Fairy Tail guild Master, Makarov."

Unfortunately for Lucy, Makarov didn't stay to greet her. Instead, he turned around and jumped to the second-floor railing on the far side of the guild. Or, well, he tried to. He didn't quite make it. But he recovered quickly and soon faced his guild.

"You've gone and done it again, you bunch of clots!" He yelled and held up a stack of papers.

"Just look at the paperwork the Magic Counsel sent me this time! This is the biggest pile of complaints yet! Have you lost your minds?! All you kids are good for is getting the higher-ups mad at me!" He practically shook with his anger, and the whole guild looked remorseful.

Makarov growled, breathed for a second, and spoke once again.

"However," He spoke in a less-angry tone, though his displeasure was still clear. It was completely gone with the next sentence, though. "I say to heck with the Magic Counsel."

In the next instant, he had set the pile of complaints to flame and casually tossed the flames into the air. A moment later, Natsu leapt into the air to catch the flaming papers in his mouth.

"Now listen up! Any power that surpasses reason still comes from reason, right?" Makarov asked, and Roxanne stepped out from behind Lucy's legs, mouthing the speech silently.

"Magic isn't some kind of miraculous power. It is a talent that only works when the flow of energy inside of us and the flow of energy in the natural world are in perfect synchronization. To perform magic, one must have a strong mind and the ability to focus. It should take over your being and come pouring out of your very soul! If all we do is worry about following rules then our magic will never progress! Don't let those blowhards on the Counsel scare you. Follow the path you believe in. Cause that's what makes Fairy Tail number one!"

To accentuate 'Number one!', Makarov thrust his hand into the air, his pointer finger extended as the back of the hand faced the guild. A moment later, the guild hall erupted into a cacophony of cheers and whistles as each and every one of the members copied their Master's hand sign. Roxanne did as well, not at all caring that she wasn't accepted into the guild yet. She was celebrating along with the guild, so a technicality like that wasn't gonna stop her!

"Well, I guess I've found my answer." She whispered to herself as the crowd began buddying up, the aura of togetherness still thick in the air. "Anyone who can focus and has a strong mind can learn magic. So, that's what I'm going to do."

I'm going to learn magic so I can protect this guild from the dangers that are approaching. I'm going to become a wizard of Fairy Tail and make this guild my home and family!

With the cheering dying down, Makarov approached Roxanne and Lucy again. "So, you two want to join the guild, huh?"

"Yes, sir!" Roxanne replied again, just as happily as before and with more determination. However, she looked disappointed."But I'm not sure if I technically can. I'm not a mage." She adopted a determined, 'nothing's going to stop me' face and posture, and it showed in her tone of voice. "But I really want to be. Before we came here, I was on a mission to find out how a person becomes a wizard. I had a lot of conflicting sources, but you gave the answer to me loud and clear, sir, so please let me stay for a while so I learn magic!" She begged the Master, growing nervous as Makarov stayed silent. Finally, after what felt like years, he smiled.

"I like your spirit, my dear. I can see your desire to fulfill your dream, and you seem to have the dedication needed to help you overcome any troubles you may encounter. So, I'll tell you what. You can stay for as long as you wish, and you can train with me while you discover your magic. Once you have, I'll let you join the guild officially and you can choose your mentor if there is someone here who shares your magic. But, let me warn you. Finding your magic is not a simple task for those who seek it as you do, but working for it will make gaining the magic even sweeter. As with anything, learning something new takes work and time. You need to be prepared to handle this, young one, for the journey is long and hard."

"I understand, sir, and I promise I'm ready."

"Very well, then… oh! I don't think I caught your names before?"

"I'm Roxanne, sir, and this is Lucy. Lucy wants to join too."

Lucy nodded determinedly and Makarov smiled, sizing her up instantly. "Yes, I can see the same fire in your eyes, Lucy. Welcome to Fairy Tail, you two."

"Yay!! Thank you so much, sir!" Roxanne cheered and hugged the man. Above her, Lucy thanked Makarov just as eagerly as Roxanne. The man smiled, enjoying the attention.

A few minutes later, Makarov sent Lucy to Mirajane for her guild stamp while he continued his discussion with a now-teary-eyed Roxanne.

"Since you can't take any jobs yet, I'm going to let you stay in one of the apartments upstairs. And you can live there, rent-free, until you start taking on jobs. Once you do, you'll be expected to pay rent like everyone else."

"Yes, sir. What happens after that?"

"Well, with a source of income, you can decide if you want to move out and get your own place, or if you want to stay here."

"That sounds fair, sir."

"And I take it, judging by your lack of possessions, you don't have any money on you?"

"No, sir," she whispered, immediately saddened. "I did have a fair amount of money and just a few possessions, but I was robbed."

"But I'm going to fix that, sir." Lucy interrupted, appearing silently behind Roxanne and making her jump in surprise. "I was going to take her shopping as soon as we finished up here."

"That's very sweet of you, Lucy." Makarov praised Lucy, to which the mage just chuckled.

"It really is, Lucy, but are you sure?" Roxanne asked worriedly. "I mean, I've already been enough of a burden. I'd hate to put you out even more."

"It's fine, Roxanne," Lucy assured her. "I'm happy to help! I want to help. And if it makes you feel better you can pay me back once you start making some money of your own. Okay?"

"Okay, then." Roxanne felt better for that last bit. She didn't ever want to be a burden to her new friends. "Thank you very much, Lucy!" she smiled.

"Now, then, Roxanne. You've got enough on your plate for today. Please spend the rest of the day getting settled in, and be sure to get plenty of sleep. Your training starts at seven am tomorrow." Makarov reclaimed Roxanne's attention.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir!" Roxanne replied and hugged the old man once again. "I promise, sir, I won't let you down." She whispered in his ear before she broke off and rushed to Mirajane.

It didn't take long for Roxanne to select her apartment on the top floor, and Mira also gave her a keychain to hang her key on. She accepted it, clipped the key to the keychain and then clipped it to one of her belt loops. She smiled happily and hugged the white-haired woman. Lucy, Natsu and Happy came over and each of them got hugs as well.

As Roxanne broke away from Happy, a few other guild members came over to greet the newcomers. She had to stop herself from rushing to Gray, the urge to run up to him and declare her admiration was so strong. Somehow she stopped herself and instead smiled at him.

Natsu did the introductions, since he and Happy were the only wizards the two groups had in common.

"Guys," He began, addressing his fellow members of Fairy Tail. "This is Lucy and Roxanne. Lucy, Roxanne, this is Gray,"

The black-haired, bare-chested wizard stepped forward to shake their hands. "Yo. Welcome to Fairy Tail." Roxanne could almost feel her heart beating in her chest, beating so quickly that she thought it'd stop from exhaustion.

"Thank you!" The girls replied, Roxanne said a bit breathily.

"Elfman, Mira's brother," Natsu introduced the big, muscle-y mage.

"Nice to meet ya!" Despite his size his smile was kind, and his huge hand was very gentle when he bent down to shake Roxanne's.

"And Macao and Wakaba." Natsu finished the introductions with two of the oldest wizards in the guild, though they didn't look like it yet. Macao was a bit taller than his partner, dressed in a white jacket with a black undershirt underneath. He had tan skin and blue hair. Wakaba, however, had a pipe in his mouth, and his brown hair was shaped into a protruding… log, maybe? She had no idea what to call it, but it was seen only on Wakaba.

"Hi, ladies." Wakaba greeted them, and Macao pushed his half-flirting friend aside. "Welcome!"

Roxanne giggled. "Nice to meet you!"

Thirty minutes later, the girls left the guild hall and made their way to the port side of the city, where the markets were located. Well, it seemed to be more like one huge marketplace with restaurants and storefronts tossed in, but it was an adventure in and of itself. The anime hadn't shown much of the city so it was fun for Roxanne to build up a more accurate mental map of the city. However, she still clung close to Lucy because there was quite an enormous crowd and the street wasn't very wide so everyone was crammed together. It would be so easy to lose a companion in the crowd, so Roxanne stuck quite close to Lucy.

The first place they stopped at was a clothing store for kids, where Lucy bought Roxanne two jeans and five shirts—Lucy had insisted on the last two shirts, absolutely convinced that she needed to have enough clothes to last her six days so she would be forced to wash everything on a timely schedule. Also, Lucy claimed it would make it easier for her to pack should the situation arise. Roxanne tried to refuse those two shirts, but she let Lucy have her way since she was the one buying the shirts and because she'd been so very helpful thus far.

The jeans were simple, one black and one white denim pair, and the shirts were quite varied. One of them was a bright blue color and had a chocolate brown pattern on the front, which Roxanne was ecstatic about. She loved how those two colors naturally paired, so she tried to wear such combinations. The second shirt was white with a cyan, purple, and pink floral design. The third shirt was solid white, meant to pair simply with the vest she was currently wearing. The fourth shirt had the same purpose but it was more of a purple color. The fifth shirt was pink with a purple bedazzled butterfly on the front, and on the back it said 'Cute but Fierce,' which Roxanne found to be really amusing. Lucy also realized at pretty much the last second that Roxanne needed pajamas, and pretty soon there were two sets of warm, fuzzy pajamas, a nightgown, a bathrobe and slippers on the counter. Roxanne's head spun with how much she was being gifted with, and the jewel that it was costing Lucy. She thanked Lucy profusely, but Lucy just waved it away, saying she wanted to help Roxanne get everything she needed to be comfortable and that if it made her feel better, then Roxanne could pay her back when she could. Of course, Roxanne was already intending to do just that, but she still appreciated Lucy saying it was okay. She much preferred having permission to do something, instead of doing the thing only to find out that it's not wanted or appreciated.

The second store was a book and magic store, where Lucy bought several reams of plain paper, a stack of envelopes, several quills and an inkbottle for herself. For Roxanne, she bought a journal, one book - the kind little kids use in school to learn the local language - and another ream of paper, two quills and an ink bottle. The journal was simple enough, but what Roxanne treasured was its presence. With it, she could write down every thought that crossed her mind, every fear or hope or dream. She could also keep track of the date and where in the timeline she found herself. It was a place, the only place, where she could forget that she was pretending to be someone she wasn't, where she could be an average girl from a privileged family who was sucked away and dropped into a fictional world that apparently wasn't so fictional. It was a place where she could strip away her exterior and truly be herself. It was her coping mechanism.

Lucy sensed that, when she saw Roxanne looking at the journal she now held in her hands. She watched the girl for a bit, watched her stare longingly at the book, and gently, silently, took it and placed it in her basket. Roxanne understood immediately and Lucy could almost swear the sun was right there in the girl's face because her smile was so bright.

The book was to help Roxanne learn the language she was surrounded by, and the paper would serve as a place for her to practice her writing without messing up the journal with the mistakes she'd surely make.

The third place they stopped was where they bought the bulk of their items. Both needed shampoo and conditioner, Roxane needed a hairbrush and hair accessories along with body wash, a body scrubber, toothbrush and toothpaste, and laundry detergent. Lucy needed makeup. She also bought them a fair amount of sweets in case they got what Lucy called 'the munchies' late at night.

As the girls continued on their way, now scouting the areas beyond for candidate apartments for Lucy, Roxanne was careful to keep her eyes peeled for the apartment that Lucy would later rent, the one by the canal with the bridge nearby and the teasing but neighborly worried older men in the boat. Roxanne also emphasized the flaws in the other prospects, praising the highlights sparingly. She wanted to encourage Lucy towards the waterfront apartment because that's where Lucy would be, and Roxanne wanted to preserve the timeline as much as possible so things wouldn't change and so she could then anticipate what was happening.

They didn't find the apartment that day, so Lucy bought a blanket and a pillow from a home goods store and the duo made their way back to the guildhall to settle in for the night. First they ate a hearty dinner, which thankfully agreed with Roxanne much more than the lunch from earlier, and they socialized until the sun had left the sky. Then they climbed the stairs, making their way to Roxanne's apartment.

She had deliberately chosen an apartment on the top floor because she wanted the exercise that will come from climbing all of those stairs twice a day, and because there would be only silence above her when there might not be had she chosen a lower floor. Also, she didn't anticipate being in the apartment that much, so she figured whoever was below her would appreciate the silence above them.

The apartment was small compared to Roxanne's parent's mansion, but it suited Roxanne well. She liked how compact and close, and yet spaced out it felt. It came with a twin-sized bed with a brand new mattress—apparently she was this apartment's first occupant—and a kitchenette with fridge and freezer, a full-sized bathroom, a wardrobe for her clothes, a desk and one window above the bed.

Looking in at the small space, Roxanne smiled. This was her place. Her apartment above the Fairy Tail guildhall, and she couldn't be happier. Smiling, she and Lucy agreed that Lucy could take the first bath while Roxanne put away her new clothes, set up the desk and started writing her first entry into her journal. She was careful to not leave out any memory or detail, and she wrote in her native language so that no one else could read it—the runic script here was completely different, and if she couldn't read it, then they couldn't read English. Not that she was worried about people deliberately invading her privacy, but she knew that Natsu and Gray, and even Erza and Happy didn't have much respect for personal space. So she wanted to not take any chances about anyone finding out who she really was, and wrote in a language that she was quite fluent in and they weren't. That way, her secret would be safe.

When Lucy got out of the bath, Roxanne took the comforter off of her bed and placed it on the floor a respectable distance away from her bed, to mark where Lucy would be sleeping this first night. Without a word, the two switched places, Lucy fixing up her bed and writing her first letter while Roxanne took her bath.

The bathroom was styled interestingly. Roxanne had seen a public-sized version of this style in anime before, a public bathhouse where each person had to shower first before they got into the communal tub or hot spring. She quickly decided that she liked seeing it here, meant for one person. It suited her, she decided, since she could decide if she wanted just the shower if she was in a hurry or if she wanted both a shower and a bath after a long, hard day. She smiled and got undressed, opting to use both this time.

An hour later, she dressed in one of the new pajamas, her bathrobe was hanging on the pole by her head with the slippers right where her feet would be tomorrow morning. She slipped herself under the sheets and sighed in contentment. Her hair was washed, her teeth were brushed, her skin was clean and smelled good. She could sleep now, and she did.

She was asleep within five minutes.