#does anyone else ever think about how adam's corpse is still there even if he regenerates

[normystical]

sinner adam seeing his own skeleton probably

[a-crumb-of-whump]

if you wouldn't mind, i'd love a summary of what carlos, ryker and adam's dark!au personalities would look like? 😅

This gets really dark. Please heed the warnings as you go.

Content: [mentioned] death, murder, vampire whump, whumpee-turned-whumper.

So, I've talked about Carlos' dark!au before, I think, but he essntially just becomes a much more vengeful version of himself. I imagine him making a living out of hunting down humans who have abused vampires in the past, similar to Cohen's situation! Torture and prolonging someone's death still isn't something he agrees with, but he will definitely ensure that the person he's after will never hurt another person - human or vampire - again.

He does not do this until after Ryker and Adam have passed, however. After that, he starts to feel like he has no purpose in life, but if he can't kill himself then he's going to at least make the most of what he's got, which is a lot of self loathing, frustration and vengence. Unfortunately, he does not have a third party to stop him, because Bailey is in full support and even becomes his work partner at some stage.

-

Content: Suicide, verbal abuse, [implied] minor whump.

Ryker's dark!au would involve him (unintentially) turning into a watered down verson of his parents. His relationship with Adam would be extremely unhealthy and possibly even abusive at times, and he'd be more prone to verbally abusing the people around him (I can't see him becoming physically abusive, even in this au) in general.

Carlos actually sees more sides of Ryker in this au than anyone else. Ryker targets him frequently because he knows Carlos won't leave him afterwards, but also is at his most vulnerable when it's just the two of them. He hates the person he has become, but does not have the tools to stop it and better himself. He has not lost his strong sense of self-awareness.

I like to think that Ryker is able to find support and get help eventually. It's not something he's able to stop completely, but he develops enough coping strategies to be able to heal relationships with friends and maintain them without turning into something abusive at every corner.

But. The sad part about Ryker here is that he most likely takes his life much earlier. There is hardly ever a moment in time where he doesn't hate himself and what he's done. He hates that he's hurt so many people, and that they continue to love him anyway. The guilt in knowing how disappointed in him Carlos must be is consuming him, and there comes a point in time where he just can't do it anymore.

-

Content: Murder, minor whump, suicide.

And then we have Adam. I'm going to be blunt here. He will end up killing his parents before he hits thirteen. This poor kid has been through so much abuse, and he actually considers it anyway in canon. I think he's just far more impulsive here.

He immediately owns up to what he did. He sits in between his parents' corpses while on the phone to the authorities and explains what he did - doesn't even mention the things they'd been doing to him. He knows it won't matter anyway.

As sad and anti-climatic as it is, I imagine he kills himself soon after. I don't know how. I don't know where, but I know that he would not live a long life in this au.

[sinnamonrasinslut]

The Ease With Which We Hurt [I] ICorpse Husband x Fem!ReaderI

A/N: You guys. I have never simultaneously loved AND hated a piece that I wrote. I really don��t know how I feel about this, but I promised myself last year that I wouldn’t overthink my writing, so here we are. This is part one of most likely four, but we’ll see about that. Thank you to everyone in my inbox who gave me ideas to turn this into a multi chapter fic! They’re all coming, I promise :)

SYNOPSIS: Corpse loves her, she loves Corpse. But both of them are too dumb to realize it, and too afraid to admit it. 

It started, like most good things in his life, out of the blue.

He met her three years ago. Well, not met, but befriended her three years ago when her podcast was just taking off. He remembers sending her a DM about how great her work was, remembers her being gracious in her praise of his own narrations after and he remembers talking to her well into the night until she fell asleep. The rest, to Corpse, is history.

And yet, all he knows of her is a voice, a name, and the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. she chooses to wear a mask every time they FaceTime, just for the formality of the entire ‘faceless’ situation. She’s told him she thinks it’s ironic, how she feels like he knows her inside out, and she’s still afraid to show him her face. It’s not like corpse can blame her. She doesn’t even know his name, let alone what he looks like, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t filed him away as some no face creep by this point. 

But she hasn’t. She’s still here, after three years of being her friend, and almost a year of seeing her eyes and convincing himself that she’s his friend, damnit, she’s still here. It’s already a lot more than he can ask for.

He’s been holding himself back from falling in love. Or rather, he’s been in love for as long as he can remember, but he's been adamant on denying it; because he knows how this goes. It’s never gone well for him in the past. And he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s afraid. But sometimes, she tells him things that make his heart break, just out of the realization of how absolutely fucking stupid he's being, holding back from her.

He’s convinced that when he dies, she’s going to be the light at the end of his tunnel. That heaven means nothing more to him than a place in her world, however small, however insignificant, as long as he gets to see her eyes for the rest of eternity.

Every part of corpse tells him that it's love. But he tries to push it away, suppress his own feelings till he's nothing but a walking contradiction, overflowing with voices that only say her name.

But he’s tired. And he's scared. Because he’s been down that road before, opened himself up to people who haven’t liked what they saw and left with pieces of him he’s not sure how to tape back. He’s unsure if he's willing to let her try.

So, he settles for a small corner of her world, a little piece of her existence that gives him life, and every time he talks to her, hands flailing as she animatedly tells another story, he pushes the yearning to the back of his head till it crawls down and clings to his windpipe, unsure and immeasurable, and he can’t speak anymore without choking. But then she says things that make his heart jump into his throat, and then he’s choking but for entirely different reasons.

“What would you do if I was gone?”

He doesn’t mean it like that. Well, he does, a little bit, but his brain isn’t taking over every part of his body trying to convince him he’s unwanted, so he doesn’t mean it like that. He’s only curious, maybe in need of a little reassurance. And nobody does reassurance better than her.

She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment. Corpse knows the gist of her impending answer but the pause still blooms unnecessarily in his chest. But it’s not like they haven’t done this before.

“I’d write about you.”

“Huh?”

She only huffs a laugh at his confusion. She pulls a blanket closer around her and props up her phone to rest against what he assumes is a wall.

“You’re not easy to forget, Corpse,” her voice is soft, truthful without flattery, provides comfort without justification. “if you were gone, I’d write about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s the least I’d need to cope.”

It’s not what he thought he’d hear, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that it’s exactly what he needed. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her. 

“Besides,” she continues, hair falling in her face as she adjusts the blanket, “there is no place for me in a world without you in it.” 

 And he physically feels his heart stop and clench in his chest. The thought of meaning this much to anyone, to her in particular, is more than he knows how to handle. So, he doesn’t follow that up with a quip, no teasing laughter, no suggestive, exaggerated winks that only he can see. He only lets himself bask in the warmth of her honesty, lets her smile at him in that way only she does, the way that makes him freeze and ache and crumble.

He chooses not to talk after that, settles for listening to her tell stories about her childhood. Her voice is the purest thing he’s ever heard, he’d hear her talk till the world ended if he could, and the sweet lilt of her voice lulls him to sleep hours after she’s hung up the phone.

He doesn’t get to talk to her for almost two weeks after that. He misses her a little, but he keeps that to himself, and instead, tags her under dumb twitter memes and sends her pictures of cats that he’s saved specifically for times like these, and another video of two geckos fighting on a tree captioned ‘u and me’ .

There’s no place for me in a world without you in it.

The words wrap around his ribs like a noose, tightening by the second. Some days, when his heart is fast enough to beat out of his ribcage, it grounds him just as much as it hurts. But when she’d said it to him, it passed through him like a train wreck, distorting all semblance of control he’d convinced himself he had.

He knows it’s ridiculous, but he loves her. She’s only a voice through his phone and eyes on his screen and he has no clue what the rest of her looks like, but he’d be damned if he lets himself deny it one more time. He loves her. And that’s the most terrifying thought he’s ever entertained.

It doesn’t take long after that realization takes root, for him to send her a picture. He doesn’t let himself think too much about it. Taking pictures of himself is still new to him, but he tries his best. Don't think about it too much, he reminds himself, and unsurprisingly, it's her voice in his head that does all the soothing. He captions it something stupid, more out of habit than anything else (my hair makes me look like Dora the exploraH), with his name across his forehead and ‘Dora’ in brackets beside it. 

Momentarily, he wonders if he’s ever asked her if she even wants to see his face. (He has, and he distantly remembers her agreeing as long as he’s comfortable with it.)

He hits send before he has the chance to stop and think. 

Then he waits. 

Her response is quicker than he’s prepared for, her name flashing across the facetime request on his phone. He’s giggling before he even picks it up. 

“CORPSE, WHAT THE FUCK!” 

For a very long moment, they just stare, taking each other in. This is his endgame, corpse thinks, he’s never going to need to show anyone his face after this, nothing, no one will matter as much. 

With a jolt, he realizes that she’s not wearing her mask. He can see her, all of her, and that on its own should be enough to take him out.

And then she smiles. 

If there was any doubt in his mind before about how head over heels he is, she’s taken it out of his mind and stomped it to the ground. He’s not the poet in this friendship, but he’s assured he could write entire paragraphs about the way she smiles. And he tells her exactly that. 

“I’m curious to see how that would fit with fine lass nice ass cat ears and she uwu,” she teases, eye twinkling with mirth, “but I'm sure you’ll figure it out.” 

He’s both amazed and amused at how quickly they go from fawning to bantering. But perhaps that’s the thing about her that feels so familiar.

“I will write a song about you baby, don’t tempt me.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“It’s a confession,” he shrugs, suddenly shy, unsure of where to lead with this. Thankfully, she interjects before he has to say anything else. 

“That’s an awfully bold confession for a man called Corpse.”

“I’m also awfully alive for a man called Corpse, but you don’t see me complaining.” Awfully alive and not enough husband, he wants to say, but he keeps that to himself. 

“You complain about being alive everyday, Mister Husband,” she counters and Corpse groans, dropping his head into his hands. 

“I say that to you in confidence,” he grits out, playfully glazing at her.

“You also tell about a million people on stream, I’m not special,” she laughs. 

“You are very special to me.” His voice is soft, shy, almost afraid to tell her the things he’s saying, “I did say I’d write a song about you. Pretty special if you ask me.”

She hums, taking a huge gulp of water and nodding enthusiastically. 

“Correct, me, the cat girl and the e girl. What’s the next single, Corpse? Faceless Girls are ruining my life?” 

“You’re a rascal,” he chides as a familiar warmth settles around his heart, and grips. 

“It is one of my finer qualities, yes.” 

Distantly, some part of his brain registers that this is the first time he’s seen her, but there is no sense of hesitation in his head about her. It feels just like it always has, with her on the phone saying the silliest things, and him responding with equal enthusiasm. This is the way they’ve always been. 

While she talks, hands animatedly moving around, Corpse allows himself a small moment of reprieve to think. He knows he loves her, but he wonders briefly if it’s too soon to be in love with her (he concludes that probably it is, given that she remains unaware of his feelings, but he finds that it doesn’t really matter)

Because while Corpse loves her, he’s sure he doesn't know how to love her. Doesn’t know her favourite flowers even if he knows her coffee order by heart, doesn’t know her ideal date even if he’s memorized every poem she loves. 

The meanest parts of his brain tell him she deserves better, and he knows they’re wrong. But a small part of him can’t help but dwell. He’d rather have her and her unnecessary hand movements in his life as his friend than not at all. So he pushes away his feelings for another day, and just listens to her talk. 

Corpse is perfectly content with that. 

[nemo-draco]

The First Step

Hi all! Bit of a crossover piece here, courtesy of some amazing art on behalf of @rose-junk-junky on Tumblr, and @a-rae-of-sunshine, whose characters feature here along with my own. Long story short, saw some amazing animatics and art with Rae's characters in a Frankenstein-like scenario, and my guys jumped in with a cry of 'new friend!'.

To read off our cast, Whimsy, Fancy, and Whimsy's 'creator' (this AU's version of the Mayor of Burnsville) are the characters of a-rae-of-sunshine. The AU itself was thought up by rose-junk-junky, who I also have to thank for showing the Frankenstein Musical album in the animatics. All the rest are mine.

Hope you enjoy!

A First Step:

"If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind!" Adam Frankenstein, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Their dreams were racing, blurred things, fraught with frantic energy and a sinking sense of wrongness that made them feel sick to their stomach. It was like they were stuck on a top, whirling from images of crackling electricity, to fire, to the ripping of stitches, to the sounds of people screaming in both anger and fear. But rising above it all was that one face, that one person, who's attention they had coveted the most, and the one they hated all the more for what HE'D DONE TO THEM-

"I should never have given you breath…"

-Awakening in a dark room, empty, filled with books and beakers, devoid of anyone-

"You're a beast to be feared…"

-Wandering in the wilderness, cold and alone, seeing others but always being met with screams and vitriol-

"By heaven we'll drag you…"

-The brief respite of the blind woman and her company, ruined when the others came and saw-

"And haunt you…"

-Fire leaping, climbing higher and higher, growing out of control-

"And banish your soul…"

-His face, their own creator, staring at them with such revulsion and hatred-

"From this earth!"

The nightmare went from formless to something concrete, Whimsy all but slamming down into their own body just in time to feel a rope slip around their neck. Immediately it tightened, yanking the reanimated faerie towards…

…A creaky, rickety platform of wood. One that somehow filled them with more dread and fear than they'd ever thought possible. The fear became something real, forming fire that leapt around the construct like it was some specter summoned up from Hell. A shadowy crowd appeared in the billows of smoke, voices like howling wolves as they screamed.

"Kill it!"

"It's a demon, a monster!"

"Be rid of the awful thing!"

They spun, pulled, tried everything they could to get away from the noose's pull, even slipping their fingers around the rope to try to yank it off, but nothing worked. And worse still, a numbness was seeping into their body, starting from their feet and working its way up to their ankles.

A face in the crowd leapt out to them, their eyes widening as they recognized their creator standing among the throng. Before they could even think, or read into the neutral, blank expression on their maker's face, they cried out like a drowning man casting about for a lifeline.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

Their legs grew stiff and cold, only weighing them down as they struggled to escape the noose, the fire, the awful drop...

"I'm alive!" They screamed, eyes tearing as they sought out their creator's emotionless stare, as cold as the deadening sensation creeping up their body. They were being pulled up the stairs, up to the gallows...

But somehow, even over all the screaming, the jeers, the fire, and the creaking pull of the hangman's rope, they could hear their creator whisper as though he were right next to them.

"No, you aren't."

"You made me!" Whimsy cried, feeling a slight give in the boards under their feet, hinting at the presence of a trapdoor. The fire climbed, the crowd howled for their death, the feeling of the end pulling their hands away from the lethally light weight of the noose. "YOU MADE ME!"

But with no inflection, no emotion, came the cold response.

"I reject you."

And with a snap, then came the short drop...

...And the sudden stop as their body thudded against the floor, thankfully a carpeted one that masked the noise.

Not that Whimsy, for the moment, had much mind to be thankful.

For the time being, their mind was frozen, limbs shakily drawing in to curl out of some instinctive reaction as they tried to figure out whether or not they were once again dead.

The feeling of their heart galloping in their chest, as well as the frantic gasping rushing in and out of their clenched teeth, contradicted that idea. Well, that and a slight sting radiating through their hip given that had smacked into the floor before the rest of them.

Sitting gingerly up and untangling themselves with a trembling set of arms, Whimsy sat in the dark for a spell, before deciding that this wasn't helping and stumbling to their feet. Their hands only shook a little as they found the doorknob, though as they stepped out into the hall the faintly cooler temperature jolted them to something that felt a little more in control...and drew their eye down to a plate that had been left next to their door. A quick sniff brought the scents of beef, some kind of vegetables, maybe bread? All of it was a little dulled though, the plate itself cool to the touch. This had been left a while ago, that was for sure...

It made them realize that they weren't even fully aware of what time it was. The most they could say was 'night' but the house around them was dead silent. Everyone else must already be in bed.

The notion was surprisingly relieving, Whimsy picking up the plate and deciding to head downstairs. Even the faintly chilled food was somewhat appetizing, especially since this would be the first time they'd eaten all day. Or…night? Whenever.

Despite their height, the reanimated (corpse) faerie was able to move stealthily down the hallway, to the stairs leading down to the larger part of the house. The…guy, Cab, who had brought them here had said that it was an old firehouse. When they'd gotten it set up, they'd moved the pole, somehow got a spiral staircase, and made the whole downstairs open to co-join the garage with the rest of the first floor, barring a little section for a bathroom and closet. That was a design choice that Whimsy'd been a little confused by, Cab's words that it was for 'Bee's benefit not really helping to illuminate much.

At least, not until the car sitting in the garage space started talking, during which that little mystery was cleared up in short order.

Whimsy had just come down the stairs when a faint noise caught their attention, their head jerking in the direction it had come from to see a very small figure sitting at the table. The most eye-grabbing feature was a small streak of silver running through a head of otherwise black hair, a tired shadow in the tailor's face despite the brief flash of nerves at the sight of the towering, stitched-together faerie (reanimated corpse). The pair stared at each other, Whimsy belatedly remembering that this was the person who owned this house, what had Cab called him again?

Either way, they couldn't exactly ask with their mouth full, so they made an effort to swallow a rather large mouthful of chilled beef and bread. He ended up beating them to actually talking though, voice quiet with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Glad to see you liked the food. We did have dinner a while ago, but you were asleep. We didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks," Whimsy muttered, once their mouth was free to reply, though they realized that they didn't really have anything to add or say. Funnily enough, Fancy seemed to have the same issue too, drumming his fingers on the table for an instant as his eyes cast around before lighting on the softly steaming mug in front of him.

"Do, you want some tea?"

Tea. Whimsy had a vague memory of it from when they'd spoken to the blind woman. A bit bitter, but warm. And, if something were to go wrong, then they could just leave, right?

So, even with the mistrust nudging at the back of their mind, Whimsy edged cautiously forward, carefully watching for some sign of underhanded play. It was a nervousness that was echoed a little in the tailor, Fancy looking up to meet Whimsy's eyes and, consciously or not, huddling down a bit like a fox that had come too close to a bear.

The faerie themselves edged quietly into the seat, nearly approaching calm before a metallic, humming voice spoke up from behind them.

"'Ey Whims."

Oh, right, and the car, the thought of which immediately had Whimsy changing seats to keep both Fancy and 'Bee' within view (and noticing with a silent shiver of bracing tension that the sleek, not all together large but still not small black car had rolled closer). Not that Bee himself seemed to take much offense, given his next, calm words.

"Thanks for switchin', by the way. Easier to talk when I'm not hollering over someone. Guess it's the exterior, dunno. Not many people expect the car to hold a conversation." Despite the easy tone, Whimsy couldn't feel relaxed, like there was a trap somewhere that they needed to keep an eye out for. They might not have been run out on a rail yet but it had barely been twenty four hours.

"People…ignore you?" Whimsy still asked, faintly piqued by the implication. Though they really couldn't guess what was worse, to be shunned or ignored. A faintly vindictive part of them hissed that to be shunned was worse, an ignored person could at least live among other people.

"Eh, sometimes. Though bein' innocuous enough to escape notice does have its perks. It's how I was designed after all."

Immediately Whimsy's brain got stuck on that last bit, to the point where they couldn't help asking.

"…Designed?"

"Originally I was made to be what you'd call a 'cursed object'. Maker just decided to be more ambitious and cursed a car rather than something like a toaster or doll or whatever. Demonically-charged rituals can be a mite bit unpredictable, apparently, 'cause I ended up with enough 'me' to say I liked the guy I was supposed to be causing trouble for a lot better. 'Course I couldn't stay when I kinda revealed I was alive, but, y'know, nice while it lasted."

"We're glad to have you either way, Bee." Fancy spoke up, it just striking Whimsy then and there that the tailor didn't seem surprised by any of what Bee had just said. Granted that could make sense, considering they had known each other longer. Things like this had probably come up before. It definitely seemed like it considering that Bee's tone was casual, even wistful in some spots, when talking about this person that he'd supposedly been sent to cause trouble for.

"Same. Great to be in a house where I can actually talk to people."

It was almost relieving for Whimsy to drop into the role of a spectator, but inevitably, the talk had to turn back to the last conversation partner that was sitting at the table.

"So, Whimsy, were exactly have you been? Thought I knew all the myths around here. Granted, most of them live in this house, but, well…" Though Bee trailed off, and certainly didn't sound like he was anything but calm and faintly curious, Whimsy couldn't help but feel the edge of an interrogation in the words.

"I, I've been…traveling…" Even to their ears, it sounded incredibly feeble. But they didn't know what else to add so they stayed quiet. At least, what they could say without getting into some worrying territory.

"Blew in from outta town?"

"Yeah." The faint grumble from the reanimated faerie completely contradicted the easier, flowing tone that the car employed, Whimsy remembering what they'd just learned about Bee and feeling…a sort of discomfort. Bee had sounded like he'd at least known something about what they went through, at least on some level, how on earth could he sound so put together? So calm?

It wasn't fair.

"What made you decide to come here? It's not exactly a prime tourist spot."

"…I wanted to meet someone."

"This a myth or a person?"

"Person. Didn't work out." To put it mildly, their memory flashing to a twisted, destroyed frame hidden partially under a sheet, sightless eyes staring up at them as that voice screamed about how they would not be tricked or cowed by a demon, a shambling wreck of a faerie-

"Sorry to hear that."

Whimsy didn't have an answer, and looked down as Fancy came back with a mug of tea. It was too hot to drink, but the warmth from the mug was more than enough to create a comfortable heat, soaking into their hands and driving the memories away. At least for the time being.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? I know Cab's probably said you could stay, but… do you have someone that might be waiting for you?" Bee asked, the somewhat quieter, hesitant tone a definite tell that this was a question that the car was aware might be difficult.

"…No."

Alone. All alone. Anything they might've had gone in a blaze of fire and all because of some bad timing. Anything they could have had gone because of a selfish, stupid creator that only cared that they'd taken their first breath, and not any of what came after.

A flash of pain went through Whimsy's temple, causing a wince that had them bringing their hand up before they realized what they were doing.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

The sound of something rustling off to the side caught Whimsy's attention, the reanimated faerie nearly jumping out of their stitched skin as they looked in the direction of the noise, only to see Fancy having reached to the center of the table for a napkin. The sudden movement on their part made the tailor jump too, though something in Whimsy's face seemed to catch his attention.

"Whimsy?"

They weren't fine. This wasn't fine. They felt horribly off kilter and the questions and constant presence of people were starting to take their toll. If it was just Bee, or just Fancy, Whimsy felt like they could have handled it better. But the fact that there were two relatively sharp individuals here, moving around and poking at them, stoked their nerves. Even though they knew that there was no immediate danger, that no one had lit fires or gathered up weapons, a part of them was consistently on edge, looking for some sign of trouble.

And they didn't want to! It was making their jaw clench, their head zinging with overstressed aches and pains. They were jumping at shadows and it made it hard to concentrate.

They knew that the full answers would only provoke suspicion, and perhaps an eviction. It wasn't like they'd told everything to anyone here. Though, the memory of the blind woman, and the distinct difference in how that had felt versus this, tugged at Whimsy, making them wonder both just what had changed in them to create such a feral anxiety, and also knowing exactly why.

How long before this ended too…

Another faint pain twanged at the muscles in their temple as a result, the feeling making Whimsy wince and murmur to themselves as they tried to knead the sensation out.

"What's, what's wrong with me...?"

There was a pause, Fancy seeming to shore up his nerve before taking a seat next to the steadily devolving faerie, a hand tentatively resting on their arm.

"I think, that there's a lot you're grappling with, and you need some time to process it all. I could be wrong about this, but it doesn't seem like you've really had anyone before Cab brought you here, and part of that might be due to your appearance. Which, isn't fair to you, you can't control that sort of thing, not completely. I would say it's normal, even expected, for you to feel angry, to feel hurt, and... perhaps even a little afraid."

The notion that they were, or had ever been afraid caused Whimsy to recoil, turning a hard look Fancy's way as the tailor jumped and also withdrew, his face a mask of tension. Bee too remained quiet, though Whimsy could just faintly hear the noise of his tires rolling closer by a half-inch. The standoff lasted for all of a few moments, before Whimsy remembered that Fancy did not have to let them stay in his house. Besides, he had drawn off, and didn't look ready to try touching the reanimated faerie again.

So, Whimsy let him be, and turned back to stare into their tea.

But the sight of their own reflection merely stirred those thoughts up again, the defiant bark of why would I be afraid answered with a smaller, insidious whisper of because your existence is singular, and you will always be alone. You don't even like the sight of yourself in the mirror, remember? Your creator wanted nothing to do with you, you were a mistake from beginning to end...

And when death finally claims you, who will even bother to mourn?

A small droplet of water splashed into the tea from above, Whimsy's grip on the mug handle so tight it was quivering.

"Whimsy...?" Fancy's voice came from the side, still worried sounding but there was a new edge of care to it that still felt so alien for Whimsy to hear directed at themselves.

"Oh geez…" Bee's voice murmured, with the same sort of softer, concerned tones.

"Damn that stupid, selfish..."

It was quick, a hissed few words on Fancy's part, but Whimsy had heard them clear as a bell.

They weren't able to move, much less address those words, and Fancy didn't acknowledge them either. Instead, he rested his hand atop their arm again and continued to speak.

"Whimsy, I need you to take deep breaths, just a few. Can you do that for me?"

They tried, but what came out were hisses that turned into gasps that felt like far too much effort for the simple act of breathing.

"Alright, that's a good start. Now I want you to try breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, Whimsy. It'll help you feel better, I promise."

Though there was that instinctive nugget of mistrust, there was also the part of Whimsy that was starting to believe that they were being smothered somehow, and the way Fancy had spoken before tipped the scales in favor of trusting the little tailor.

And, in spite of everything, the advice was helping. Whimsy found air coming easier and easier after a moment or two. But the whole experience had left them winded and exhausted, which made it a little difficult to hear what Fancy asked at first.

"How are you feeling?"

"I," Whimsy started, swallowing around a dry throat. "I feel…"

It took a moment to really parse through their physical symptoms, though eventually words came to describe the strange mix of light-headed and completely worn out.

"Dizzy. Air, I need, outside…"

"It's alright, there's a window next to you, I'll open it. Just stay sitting down, please. I don't think I could carry you if you fall."

Whimsy glanced to the side as Fancy moved to the window in question, getting it open with only a small bit of effort. The rush of cool air was a balm, Whimsy turning in the direction and leaning as much on the chair as their towering frame would allow.

"Just take deep breaths, it'll pass." Fancy's voice came, the faerie's eyes fluttering open for a moment and locking straight on the tailor's gaze. There was a slight flinch that went through Fancy as their eyes met, Whimsy frowning and looking away first.

Something in their face must've leaked to Fancy, because he spoke up again.

"Do you, want to try drinking some more of your tea?"

With nothing else to do, Whimsy did take a sip, the lukewarm liquid still having a soothing edge to it. There wasn't much left, but the whole episode had taken a lot out of the reanimated faerie, leaving them rubbing at their eyes and blinking blearily as they set the mug down.

That eventually turned into them letting their head rest on their folded arms, though they still tried to remain turned towards the window. It was later in the year, but the faint chirping of crickets was still prevalent over the dark nightscape outside. The sound was a calming, and vaguely relieving one, reminding the faerie of those times when they'd lived off the land and spent long nights under the stars.

Before they realized how…different they were. It was definitely an easier time.

They must've dozed off at some point, because a new voice speaking up brought them back to reality.

"Aww, lookit that. All tuckered out."

It was a voice they only somewhat remembered, given that the person in question had been present when they had been brought in to be introduced. A concealingly-dressed figure that had been quietly leaning back in his chair, looking them up and down with a set of luminously colored eyes that flickered through bright, sharp hues. Everything about this otherwise gray shape was nonchalant, from the way their frame settled to the way a similarly colored smile flickered into being over the wrapping covering the lower half of the face, there and gone. After everything Whimsy had been through, it was a different way to be greeted, and they still weren't sure if that was a good thing.

So, carefully, they opened their eyes and turned their head in the direction of the voice, and immediately caught sight of the same figure simply lounging in the chair next to them, even going so far as to tilt it onto its back legs.

"Tagger, please don't break the chairs." Fancy's voice came, the tailor gathering up the mugs before stepping away.

"Alright, alright. No fun," 'Tagger' replied, and performed the somewhat odd feat of dropping the chair back on all four legs with barely any noise. Though, as it landed, those oddly-colored eyes happened to see Whimsy's, and immediately there was a flicker of that smile again.

"Oop, guess somebody is awake. Hey, Whims. Think maybe you wanna catch some 'z's in your own bed?"

On some level, that should have been a good idea, though there was a part of Whimsy that definitely remembered why they'd come down to the kitchen to begin with, and therefore was not so ready to just head up to lie in bed, jumping at more shadows and quite possibly have more nightmares. So, instead of acquiescing, they settled in and closed their eyes, turning their head away.

"No, good here."

"But, you're gonna go back to sleep." Tagger pointed out.

"Maybe I will," Whimsy growled back, still refusing to open their eyes.

"Inna chair."

The rather frank observation did get a more venomous look from the faerie, though Tagger didn't look the least bit worried by the much taller Whimsy staring him down. It was such a strange switch to what would usually happen that they honestly weren't sure what to do, so they ended up breaking off the impromptu contest first to stubbornly shut their eyes, huddling in their arms like it was some sort of impregnable fortress.

And they knew exactly what Tagger thought of that given that the sound of him chuckling to himself wasn't long in following.

"Oh, you are just a treat, aren't you? Can see why Cab liked you."

Cab being the one that had brought them here, that had opened the door to his home. Admittedly, he'd neglected to mention the presence of folks like Tagger, or Bee, but he did mention the fact that he knew two faeries. They'd already made the decision, but it definitely helped things along. Still didn't endear them much to Tagger right now though.

"Bit of a backstory moment here, Whims. I was the first."

"…What?" The reanimated faerie couldn't help asking, their gaze turning back to Tagger just to see if they could spot some falsehood. A bit hard with a mostly concealed face, but for the most part it looked like he was telling the truth.

"The first one Cab made friends with. The very first. We've been paling around together for years! Think after that it was Patches, then we found Bee, then Sunny, and finally Manny. Oh, and then Fancy." Tagger elaborated, just as the tailor walked by and glanced over with a fondly sardonic look.

"Thanks for remembering."

"Welcome. Anyway. Guess we can add you to the list. That's if you plan on sticking around, a'course." Whimsy honestly wasn't sure if the implication that they would just up and leave was insulting or not, and ended up giving off at least half a surly glare which was probably why Tagger continued. "Well, you don't gotta make a decision just yet. It's only your first night. Plenty'a time if you decide you're sick of us an' wanna split."

Yeah, that language really wasn't helping, Whimsy's stare towards Tagger turning a touch more spiteful. Though, instead of being bothered by that, he gave a theatric shiver before slipping back into his seemingly normal, at ease persona.

"Yeesh, if looks could kill… Tone down the eyeballs kid, it's casual conversation." Then a brief flicker of that same, glaringly colored smile appeared over the wrappings covering Tagger's mouth, further conveying the mischievous smirk in his following words. "Though I guess someone does need to go back to bed. A certain grumpy someone."

And back to this again, Whimsy growing fed up enough with the whole encounter to just resettle their head on their arms and close their eyes. Though, in doing so, they completely missed the somewhat conspiratorial, and equally impish grin that Tagger flashed to both Fancy and Bee.

It made the feeling of being swept up into a pair of arms all the more jarring, Whimsy left blinking as Tagger arranged the reanimated faerie in a bridal style carry and spun on his heel for the stairs.

"H-Hey! What're you-?!"

"Wouldn't squirm too much, Whims, the staircase is only so wide."

A very good point, and while Tagger was apparently strong enough to carry someone that definitely was a good few inches taller that didn't mean that the stairs were necessarily going to alter their proportions to make it easier.

So, out of a perceived sense of self-preservation, they scrunched in their towering frame as much as possible, warily eyeing the metallic edges as Tagger easily ascended. After what felt like a harrowing few minutes, they both made it to the upstairs hall, though to Whimsy's surprise and more-than-slight annoyance, Tagger kept going until he was standing next to the door of their room.

"…You can put me down now."

"Whatever you say, Whims," Tagger replied with shadows of that same amused chuckling, to the point where Whimsy had the honest impulse to just scramble away and figure things out from there. Tagger's approach to them may have been novel, but the novelty was quickly turning sour. They weren't a child!

Still, Tagger was both deft and careful, setting them down on their feet and heading past them to a door down at the furthest end of the hallway.

"Night, Whims. See you in the morning."

And he was gone, leaving Whimsy standing like a silent sentinel in the hall. With nothing better to do, they went back into their room, quietly clambering onto the bed and staring at the night sky they could see from their window. The sight brought to mind the window downstairs, from which those familiar sounds had emanated that had provided a brief spark of respite.

Whimsy got up to crack the window open, sliding under their covers and looking in the direction of the small square that looked out to the outside world. The sound of crickets and the rush of wind through the trees accompanied them as the world grayed out, and they slid into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

A knock at the door snapped Whimsy awake, though it only felt like they'd just closed their eyes. Blinking bemusedly, they stared in the direction of the window, seeing a blue sky and trees losing their red and yellow leaves, not quite sure what was going on before the knocking came again.

Yeah, they…probably should answer that, shouldn't they? The thought of which was what teased them up, causing Whimsy to reel to their feet and plod around their bed for the door.

A familiar face was there, a more unique set of features given the black and white, checkerboard-like pattern that was stamped into the other person's skin. Cab was wearing the same primarily white pinstriped suit as yesterday, a not-totally open grin on his face that somewhat disguised his teeth, which Whimsy couldn't help noticing yesterday given that they'd resembled the sharper ones in their own mouth. Cab was tall, lean, though even a six-foot-tall frame didn't have much when compared to Whimsy's eight feet in height, and therefore he'd had to crane his neckless head back a little to look them in the eye, reaching up to hold his boater hat on his head.

Not that Cab seemed to mind, an ever-present grin on his face that sharply contrasted Whimsy's barely awake stare.

"'Ey Whims! Sorry for wakin' you up, but I figured you'd wanna get some breakfast. Ever had pancakes before?"

It took their wakening brain a few moments to figure out, firstly, what had been asked, and secondly, that no. Pancakes were a somewhat foreign concept.

"It's a food…right?"

"Yep, it's a food, a breakfast food. Wanna come down an' try some?"

Their curiosity had been piqued, so they did say yes and made to follow Cab. Whimsy found themselves waking up a little bit more, enough that they couldn't help noticing the confused look Cab passed them just before making it to the stairs.

"…What's wrong?"

"Nothin', nothin', it's just…did you sleep in your overalls?"

Were they being insulted? It was a little hard to tell, though from what they saw Cab wasn't the sort to just poke a beehive just for the sake of it. But, if it was sincere then what was even the point of the question?

"…Yes?"

"We could try givin' you some pajamas if you like."

"What are… pa-jamas? Is that even a word?"

"It is too a word! They're clothes you wear when you're sleepin'."

"People wear special clothes just for when they sleep?"

"Well, yeah, they're meant t'be comfier. Fancy could make you some if you like!" Cab's offer was nice, though Whimsy was decently sure that if they tried to go to the tailor to ask for anything they might end up giving the poor guy a heart attack. Hopefully, they thought as the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, Cab wouldn't bring it up with Fancy because they sure weren't about to.

"What're we talkin' about Fancy makin'?" The sudden presence of Tagger's voice made Whimsy jump, head swinging around to see the whatever-he-was in question leaning on the railing like he might as well have been there all along. Even though Whimsy knew he hadn't been just a moment ago.

"Hi, Tagger! We're talkin' about pajamas! Fancy could make Whimsy some!" Cab replied, as though the sudden appearance just didn't bother him.

"Oh, are we?" Tagger's reply had Whimsy preparing for more demeaning mockery, though they were somewhat thrown when Tagger instead looked them up and down before coming to a decision.

"Green or red. Maybe blue. But not light, definitely darker colors."

"You think so?" Cab's frank question was also somewhat disarming, to the point where Whimsy finally had enough and decided to break in.

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"

"If you were gonna get new clothes, those colors would probably look the best on you. Your fur's darker, so lighter stuff would just clash. And make you look pale. Paler. You get what I mean."

"Tagger's an artist!" Cab jumped in, the 'artist' in question looking more flippant.

"You can see my work around town sometimes. Usually at night. I've, ah, 'tagged' a lot of buildings." Tagger's expression clearly hinted at a joke, though as to what the actual joke was, Whimsy couldn't help not knowing. And Tagger didn't seem too primed to explain, muttering about how 'it didn't land' and turning away, heading out to the kitchen.

The kitchen at which Fancy was quietly helping a much taller figure, a similarly patchwork shape that was handing him plates to put on the table. Whimsy had seen this one too, back when they'd first come in. They'd been given a name, they knew, but the sight of a figure even remotely similar to them had caught them off-guard.

Though, as the moments of that first meeting had worn on, it became clear that there were differences.

This other creature, this other faerie, did not seem to need to blink, for starters. Pale blue eyes ringed in black faintly glowing and constantly staring, almost as if their owner had been trying to pick apart Whimsy by sight alone. They, no, she, was also considerably shorter, with the top of her head coming up to the middle of Cab and Tagger's faces. In physical shape, she resembled a doll with a simplified face, jagged-edged mouth and all. But, much like a faerie, she had more animalistic features mixed in, namely small but noticeable claws, legs that resembled a dog's or a cat's, along with two points coming out of the top of her head that resembled a pair of ears. Though, given that her skin appeared to be a sort of canvas material, Whimsy wasn't sure exactly how well they worked. Then again, maybe they did, faerie logic being the way it was. Whimsy had tried to read into it, but the general consensus was that people generally didn't know how faeries worked. At least, not inside and out.

Their creator might've known. But the ship had sailed on asking.

Before Whimsy could even have a hope of sitting down, a pair of fast-moving shapes dashed past their legs, hurrying to the table with the same frenetic urgency of a starving animal that had just been presented with the prospect of food. And they were both chanting 'pancakes' like the apparent breakfast would need some sort of summoning ritual.

"Hold on you two." Fancy's calmer tone hinted that he had no fear of either, despite the fact that one was a literal skeleton but dressed like a child they might see walking down the street, and the other looked like an uplifted wolf puppy, dressed in what looked like some sort of medieval garb. A tail wagged through the seat of the canid creature's pants, mirroring the flicking movements of a pair of batlike wings poking through the wrap covering the upper part of the small body. Somehow Whimsy knew, without being told, that this was another faerie.

Granted, they had the same feeling that they did when first looking at the canvas-made fae, that, just maybe, they might be too different to fit in with another faerie. The fact that this little one was so bouncy, full of life, didn't help that notion any.

They felt like a note in a song that didn't fit, Whimsy's feet already sliding back before an arm at their back caught their attention. A glance to the side revealed that Cab was the culprit, the sharp-toothed grin turning softer at the edges as they gave the reanimated faerie a little nudge; it's okay.

So, taking a deep breath, and feeling like the act of moving their own limbs was a momentous thing, Whimsy put one foot in front of the other and started moving towards the table. They weren't exactly making a lot of noise, even with their larger size, so they weren't sure what exactly made the little faerie-puppy's ears swivel around to them. Her head followed the movement, cherry-red eyes growing wide as she looked up and up…

I should say something, right? Whimsy couldn't helping thinking, the feeling of something squirming in their stomach as they stared down at the faerie-puppy's face, the mask-like fur around her eyes starkly contrasting with that bright scarlet.

"U-Uh, h-"

"You're tall…"

This hadn't come from the faerie-puppy, but from the little skeleton who had turned around while Whimsy had been focused on what exactly they were going to say. The small, child-sized skull had bright lights set in the sockets, glowing blue pinpricks that also stared up and up at Whimsy with the same stunned shock.

"Yep! This is…" Cab started, before trailing off and gesturing with theatric dramatics to Whimsy, inviting them to introduce themselves.

"Whimsy."

"…Whimsy! They'll be stayin' with us ferra bit, so, don't give 'em too much trouble, okay?" Cab continuation may have been meant well, but it seemed to hammer in the notion that Whimsy had done their introduction wrong. Not that they had much experience, but the emotional knife had already been pushed in, and twisted all the more by who exactly they were being introduced to. They didn't exactly have the best luck when it came to people, never mind children…

An image flashed through their mind, of a small child clutching his arm as they tried to skitter away from the faerie, eyes wide and liquid-y at the edges as they stared at Whimsy with nothing short of complete fright.

"Why did you do that? I-I was trying to help you!"

-a limp little figure in their arms, before a CRACK-BOOM rang out and pain blasted through their shoulder-

They blinked, hard, the images vanishing though the sight that greeted them when they opened their eyes didn't seem much easier. Both the little skeleton and the faerie-puppy were still staring up at them with frankly unreadable, worrying awe, and Whimsy felt fresh out of possible conversation. Thankfully Cab came to their rescue, though the reanimated faerie felt like a coward as they accepted his reminder of pancakes as an excuse to get away from the pair, and actually sit down.

However, the trials for the day were not done, as the one that slid in to sit on Whimsy's other side was the other faerie, the taller one with the staring eyes. It didn't help that once the dishes were all laid out, this faerie was taking over the actual doling out of the pancakes, and while Whimsy was trying their best to mirror what they saw the others do, it didn't keep them from feeling a twinge of nerves when those unblinking, unreadable eyes turned to them.

It seemed to take an inordinate while of them staring at each other for the other faerie to figure out that Whimsy needed a little help, a much softer toned, feminine voice speaking up and somehow very audible to them despite one of the children laughing about something nearby.

"Did you want one pancake or two?"

"…Can I get three?" Whimsy's request was answered as she doled out three pancakes, though they couldn't help the brief glance at the plates around, mentally doing the math as to whether or not they'd taken too much. It seemed fine, but their brief spate of figuring was interrupted as they realized that the other faerie had not stopped looking at them.

"…Wh-What is it?"

"You never mentioned your name."

Though the specific language wasn't used, this still felt like a request for a name, and not in just the 'what is your name' kind of fashion. Whimsy had certainly not forgotten that this was a faerie, a faerie that, even with their more placid demeanor, probably held to at least some of the old standards when it came to behavior. So, squaring their shoulders a little, they replied.

"You can call me Whimsy. I don't think I got your name either?"

"Do you want to know it?"

Wasn't that why they were asking? Maybe they should have phrased themselves differently…

"…Yes?"

"Then you can call me Patches." The frankness with which the words were delivered made it hard to tell if the other faerie was upset or angry about what they'd said, Whimsy feeling that uncomfortable, cornered-animal-type squirming settle in their gut as they maintained eye contact. Patches was the one to look away first, turning to her two pancakes and leaving Whimsy to awkwardly consider their own three. The pancakes themselves were warm, the smell more than appetizing though the sight of the faerie-puppy trying to slice hers with her fork while partially shoving them in her mouth caught their attention briefly. Fancy's efforts to get her to use the knife something that Whimsy paid close attention to. While there was a surlier, more combative part of them that groused who cares how we eat it, a part of them couldn't help pointing out that if they wanted to avoid attention, they'd at least have to give some semblance of good manners.

Though when they finally tasted the pancakes for the first time, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate impulse to scarf them down. They were good, the one with the little dots of blue in it quickly discerned to have blueberries and wasn't that just a completely welcome surprise.

Non-sarcastically meant. At this point they were seriously considering asking for more, though a quiet chuckle from Tagger cut through the euphoria.

"You enjoyin' the pancakes, Whims?"

Of course, their mouth was full when he asked, leading to them throwing the neon-eyed figure a glare as they considered the notion of whether or not they could rush through swallowing this. Deciding that no, they wanted to savor the pancakes, Whimsy instead made to turn their attention back to their food, and ended up having another distraction in the form of Cab proffering what looked like some kind of jug.

"Syrup's real good on those. Here, give it a try."

Whimsy watched with a growing-less-wary sense of curiosity as the golden…liquid (?) was poured onto what remained of their pancakes. And a hesitant taste turned into pure bliss as Cab had been proven completely right. The rest of the pancakes were quickly scarfed down, though a quick glance around the table showed that there were other things to pick at. They recognized the small bowl of berries, snagging a few and quickly eating those, though the one with the bacon going too quickly for them to have a hope of getting anything and with everyone reaching for some they weren't too sure they wanted to bother.

But, just as Whimsy had dropped back to more or less consider their empty plate, Cab reached over and placed down a few strips of bacon. At their surprised look, he pointed to his other side, to where the little skeleton boy gave a bright wave to go with his fixed grin. Whimsy's lips twitched, though the sight of the relatively normal-looking teeth brought to mind their own, sharp-toothed grin, and they kept their smile small. It didn't seem to deter the little skeleton at all though, the small bones clattering as the child jittered around with pure happiness at the simple show of gratitude.

It did help, a little, though Whimsy found themselves drifting towards a silent backdrop, more listening to the words of the others rather than contributing. They didn't think they would have very much to say anyway. At least, not things you said when everyone else was talking, laughing, telling jokes, and overall being far more light-hearted.

Was this what it was like? To be…normal? To have a home and a family? It was vaguely reminiscent of what they saw through the cracks in the walls of the blind woman's family, the strangeness of the current cast aside, and it made the role of the watcher feel all the more fitting and familiar. Safe.

"Whimsy," someone started, the faerie feeling like that veneer of security just tumbled down around them as they were yanked into the conversation. The source turned out to be the nearly silent Patches on Whimsy's other side, their eyes yanking to her like she'd brandished a knife. "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"

Their brain stuttered out a little, because they knew the answer and also had the very certain knowledge that perhaps telling the whole group in any detail how that went likely wouldn't end well.

"I, uh, yes. A long time ago."

Not so long though, the reanimated faerie avoiding everyone's eyes as they drew inward, closing off from the rest of the group. It didn't stop them from hearing the somewhat awkward pause in their wake, the conversation stuttering to life with some sort of joke from Tagger that blurred in their ears. They didn't really feel like paying attention much anymore, the earlier, calmer feeling gone by the wayside as things seemed to move on around them. Before they knew it, everyone was getting up, doing their respective parts to gather up the dishes as Cab took over the washing of said dishes.

It felt like the rest of the group moved on like a hurricane, taking their warmth and energy with them. Whimsy was left clumsily fumbling along in the aftermath, glancing around in askance before handing their plate off to Cab who'd practically all but entreated the reanimated faerie to give it over.

Just as the porcelain left their fingers, a tug on their overalls caught their attention, Whimsy looking around before dropping their gaze even further, and finally catching sight of the faerie-puppy staring up at them.

"Y'smell really funny." Her voice had such an odd accent to it that it took Whimsy a few moments to realize that the words weren't altogether flattering.

"Uh…"

"Y'smell like a lotta different things. It's weird."

"Uh, Sunny…" Cab tried to interject, though he was still up to his elbows in the dishes from breakfast.

"They smell like apples, Cab!" Sunny insisted, before closing her eyes and taking in another deep breath through her nose. "An' trees. An' dirt. An'…"

Another inhale, and Sunny's eyes opened again, looking more puzzled.

"…Lightnin'. You smell like dead things an' live things. Which one are you s'pposed t'be? Are you like Manny or are you like me?"

It felt very much like the child was asking the question 'are you alive or are you dead?'. It was one that Whimsy couldn't help asking themselves sometimes, especially given the fact that the only side of the spectrum they'd ever see were the people in the villages, the towns. The very much alive, and the dead things were lying in their worm-infested, decomposing beds. Seeing Manny was definitely a first, but Whimsy knew that they weren't the same as the little skeleton.

"I, I don't know. I don't think I'm…either…"

"Why don't you know? Wasn't anyone there t'tell you?"

No, but the word wouldn't come to their mouth, as it came with ranting about how their own creator hadn't wanted them, had taken one look at them and fled, leaving Whimsy to deal with the world alone. Even with distance, and cares, that still stung worse than physical wounds. But, as they tried to figure out how best to answer, Sunny seemed to come to her own conclusion, reaching out from her perch and pressing a hand to Whimsy's front.

"…It's okay. No one told me either. But if you're smart, you won't need tellin'. You'll figure it out. That's what Tagger said. But Patches said I could ask an' so did Cab an' Fancy. Maybe they can tell which one you are." Sunny said, with the gravitas of someone delivering a prime solution, punctuated in the conciliatory pat they gave the leg of Whimsy's overalls. It was the sort of thing that they really didn't have any words for, but in lieu of just sitting there like a dullard Whimsy did try to add something to the conversation.

"That's…that's some nose you have."

…Didn't mean that it didn't sound any less lame to their ears. Though, thankfully Sunny didn't seem too off-put by the switch. If anything, she seemed proud that Whimsy had pointed it out.

"I've got the best nose. Ask anyone."

"It's the best. Can find a rabbit in the whole forest." Cab pointed out, Sunny grinning happily at the support.

"Yep!"

But, even with the lighter switch, the question that the little faerie-pup had asked stuck in Whimsy's mind, beating like a drum.

Are you alive or are you dead?

It was one that, for all their efforts to wrangle an answer, they couldn't quite manage it.

They ended up retreating to the couch again, settling down on the leather fabric with a quiet sigh. Was there a right way that that was supposed to go? It hadn't felt right at all…

The faint sound of someone walking caught their attention, their head turning to see Cab approaching, a somewhat nerve-edged smile flickering over his face as he came near.

"'Ey, Whimsy. You doin' alright?"

"Yeah, fine," they mumbled, looking away to consider their knees and feet yet again. It seemed to provoke something in Cab, his tone changing from moderately upbeat to quietly apologetic.

"…Hey, just wanted t'say sorry. Forgot the kids can be a lil' inquisitive sometimes, realized that y'prob'ly didn't want t'deal with that just after wakin' up. And don't worry about Sunny, she's just curious. An', hey, Manny seems t'like you."

Which was, reasonable, and a little bolstering, but Whimsy couldn't help a recriminating thought from slipping out.

"…Don't think most people would want their kids being around me…"

"Hey, hey no, none of that now," Cab suddenly murmured, sitting down on the table in front of the sofa just to be within the reanimated faerie's field of vision. "Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person, y'hear?"

Whole mobs of people felt differently, Cab, Whimsy wanted to say, though the more biting thought wouldn't quite make it to their tongue. Instead, something a bit more lame slid out, the faerie letting their chin drop even more as their shoulders rolled inward.

"…yeah, sure…"

"Whimsy, look at me? Please?" Ordinarily, they might've rankled a little at the thought of anyone telling them what to do. But Cab's behavior, his tone, everything felt like he was actually trying to be nice, like he thought of them as a person. So, even though they didn't quite relinquish their hangdog, beaten-down demeanor, Whimsy did look up to meet Cab's eyes. The look they saw there was enough to give them pause, only having seen something like it once before. Beaming sincerity and emotion, to the point where the eyes glimmered faintly at the edges. Cab's hands came up to grasp Whimsy's shoulders, the touch only getting the faerie to look away for the briefest instant before their gaze immediately snapped back to Cab's, somehow sensing that what he was about to say was something that he wanted them to properly hear and absorb.

"Trust me, I know. This is hard. And it's okay to be freaked out about it. But, Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person. And, if you want to, you don't have to be a bad person. You don't have to be. You can be just as good as anyone else, just as good a person as you want to be. Nobody can force you t'make a choice, only you do that. And, Whims, I don't know a whole lot, I'll admit it. But, anythin' anyone said, anythin' anyone did to you, it's not your fault, okay? That's on them, what they do, what they say. Not on you."

It was nearly everything they'd wanted to hear, but somehow, there was doubt. There was a part of them that couldn't help looking for falsehoods and tricks, that thought that what Cab was saying couldn't apply to them. And maybe it didn't. It wasn't as though Cab knew about what happened to the blind woman's house, or that child's arm, or a similarly patchwork shape underneath a sheet…

"…Why do you care? Why, why does this…matter so much to you?" It was an honest question given how suddenly Cab had come in and just started, offering them things like friendship and a place to stay. Though while Whimsy couldn't fault themselves entirely for asking it, a part of them couldn't help feeling just a little like they'd done something wrong as Cab's hands fell away, his eyes glancing around as though for help before he just seemed to decide to come out with it.

"…I, I've been there, before, Whims. Maybe not exactly where you are, but…I've been somewhere near it. And, in a lotta cases, what I'm tellin' you was, I didn' exactly have that many friends to start out. Pretty much none, actually." Cab's eyeline dropped, his whole, lanky frame drooping as though held down by weights. But he didn't stay that way for long, quietly looking back up to meet Whimsy's eyes though there was still a careworn shadow in his face as he smiled. "Kinda, y'know, when you see someone goin' through somethin' similar, makes you wanna stick up for people like that. T'help them out. Heh, sorry, prob'ly not makin' much sense."

"No, I, I think I get it." Whimsy replied, feeling a faint, nearly involuntary grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Thanks…Cab. Thank you."

"Welcome. Also, Whims, we're goin' out, by the way. Just takin' a walk. Wanna come with?" As Cab spoke, his hand reached out to Whimsy, gloved palm up with the fingers a little outstretched. There, if they wanted. But...

More crowds, more people, more feeling out of place.

"...No." They should say something else, right? "No thank you."

Though there was a slight downturn to Cab's smile, he nodded in that understanding sort of way before heading back into the kitchen.

"Okay. I'll see you later, okay, Whims?"

"…Sure." Whimsy more murmured back, a faltering feeling in their stomach that Cab probably couldn't hear them. The thought that the group would have to come back through the room, and would therefore have to walk past them, forced Whimsy up and back to the spiral staircase. Not to mention, Bee was right beyond the door, and if he were to come back…

Well-meaning or not, Whimsy didn't want to deal with really anyone right now.

They were nearly to their room when they saw a faint ribbon of light playing across the floor, from a door that was a little further down the hallway than theirs. A wary sort of curiosity pricked at Whimsy's conscious mind, the reanimated faerie skirting down the hall with a stealth that was a little disarming given their eight-foot-frame.

It was a skill well honed, though, and put them right next to the door in question. And, with the way it opened, they got a rather good view of the room beyond. It was a space filled with color, different reels of fabric here and there, gatherings of sewing material, a rack full of completed and partially completed clothing. There was a desk directly across from the door, a familiar figure there and quietly at work. Fancy was bowed over what looked like a mess of warm colored fabrics, hands a constant blur of motion as he carefully stitched one of the seams. Whimsy honestly could not have said what it was, both because of the angle and just by looking, they were hardly any sort of expert on clothing.

But, the more they watched, the more they found the motions, and the overall atmosphere of the room, soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that it was quiet, but warm, and perhaps it also had something to do with the stitches running through their own frame, but somehow it was enough to keep Whimsy rooted there, quietly watching, for what felt like a good few minutes, their eyes quietly roving over everything from the clothes themselves to other things scattered about the room.

On one of the upper shelves of the desk, standing out because it was different from the other nooks and crannies filled with sewing supplies, were a bunch of what looked like random objects. Small stones, what looked like some sort of porcelain figure of someone dancing, an apparent amulet with a piece of some kind of crystal, a small mechanic's wrench, and a folded piece of paper with a smaller, colored piece pinned to it.

They were too far away to really look at any of the other objects, but the wrench immediately brought to mind Bee. Had Bee given Fancy that? Were the other objects all gifts too?

With the added layer of detail, the view into the room almost became a mirage, something that Whimsy could almost imagine themselves stepping into and claiming as their own. Someplace warm and inviting, with objects here and there that had their own stories, their own place.

Their own home…

Though unfortunately, the spell was broken with a too-loud creak coming from the hallway, Whimsy not sure if they'd accidentally shifted or not but seeing Fancy pause and make to look up. Without thinking, they turned tail and tried to hurry back down the hallway as quietly as they could, closing the door of their bedroom behind them.

For a brief instant they stood there, listening, before realizing that there was light coming in through the window behind them, which would illuminate the fact that they were standing there. Stepping back, Whimsy moved closer to the window, and happened to catch sight of movement in the yard below.

Out of instinct, they drew back, but it still didn't mask the sight of Cab, Tagger, Patches, Sunny, and Manny all heading off for their walk. The younger children skirted around the older three, clearly in good spirits with Cab more readily following along. Tagger and Patches were going at a more sedate pace, though were clearly part of the group. Despite the strangeness of the people, it was much like what Whimsy had watched from a distance.

What would it have looked like if they had gone too?

It felt foolish, not to mention horribly vulnerable, to just stand there staring out the window, so Whimsy instead turned to the bed, still rumpled from the nightmare-fraught sleep of last night. It looked just as lonely and forlorn as they felt, the reanimated faerie letting their eight-foot-tall frame thump onto the mattress. They didn't want to sleep, for a multitude of reasons, but, really…they had nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.

It was…frustrating. Wasn't this supposed to be better? Were they doing this right? Was there a right way? They didn't want to go on the walk. Cab hadn't tried to force them, but he'd seemed… not bothered, but maybe a little put out. Had he wanted them to come?

But, they hadn't wanted to. Should they have agreed anyway?

The thoughts were more maddening than helpful, and getting tumultuous enough that Whimsy forcibly cut them off with an irritated growl as they pressed their face into the pillow.

Of course, cutting off their own air really didn't help much, so after a few seconds the reanimated faerie quietly pulled their face away and looked to the side instead, fixating on the blue and the tops of the trees they could see through the window. They had the thought to open the window again, to hear the sounds of the nature outside given that so far, it had been the only comfort. Though the thought was in their head, and they could easily picture getting up to do it, for some reason, they couldn't make themselves move. Instead, what happened was that Whimsy rolled onto their side, eyes lazily focusing on the trees outside as they gently swayed in a breeze.

Time melted by like that, and they easily could have slipped into a doze that thankfully was too light for dreams. But, as they flopped onto their back, a knock came from the door.

It brought to mind Cab, though in a twist, the one standing there when Whimsy opened the door was Tagger.

"Hey, Whims!"

"Hi." Whimsy wasn't about to force more than a politely neutral tone, though Tagger's voice still kept that calm, devil-may-care lilt that showed he wasn't the least bit intimidated by anything, never mind the eight-foot-tall faerie staring him down.

"Missed you on the walk, but Sunny and Manny wanted to get you some stuff. Think you might be able to come out and play next time?" They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow Tagger moved past them, setting down a few objects on the dresser across from the bed. Two rocks, one lighter colored and with rounded edges, the other jet black with sharp angles. As Tagger placed down the little souvenirs from the hike, it struck Whimsy just how plain and bare the place was. Fancy's room had been littered with personal touches, but for them the only thing in the room was the furniture.

Well, it wasn't like they'd set up shop anywhere long enough to really acquire things of their own. The fact that they had an actual bed still felt like a marvel. Tagger was currently sitting on it but it still counted.

Still, Tagger's tone, and words, rankled enough that now Whimsy actually felt a rebuke coming to their tongue.

"I'm not a child, you know."

"…Funny you should say that. T'me, pretty much everyone in this house is young. Well, younger." Tagger's tone had softened a little as he turned back, the look in those oddly-colored, glaring eyes easing down to something a little less blinding. It brought to mind the conversation that Whimsy had sort of participated in, where Tagger had divulged that he had been the first one that Cab had befriended, and more or less kicked off the formation of this strange group. Perhaps then would have been a good time to actually dig in and find out more, but, well, they were here now. No time like the present, right?

"…How old are you?"

"Rude." Given that it was more than a little hard to read Tagger's face, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate apology that leapt to their tongue. It didn't help that Tagger's body language could have been either mock-affronted or real-affronted, his arms crossed and upper body turned away with his head back a little. Had they said something offensive, it wasn't like they would know…

"I, wait, I wasn't…"

Thankfully, Tagger seemed to get that facing in the opposite direction wasn't helpful, turning around and actually facing the reanimated faerie as he replied.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm kidding, Whims. Don't be so serious. And, honestly? Couldn't give you an exact, numerical answer. I just know that, in terms of age, I pretty much rank ahead of everyone, Fancy included."

The notion was honestly a bit of a shocking one, though it stoked to life Whimsy's curiosity. And, if Tagger hadn't been too bothered by that one question…

"What exactly are you?"

"Well…you know that feeling you get when you're out at night, alone, and you keep having the feeling that someone's behind you even though you're pretty sure no one's there?"

"…Yeah?"

"That's kinda in the same ballpark as me. 'Course, you might be a little more familiar with the rest of the family. The Call of Cthulhu mean anythin' t'you?"

"…No, not really."

"Don't worry about it. For reference's sake, think of it like the blackness between the stars, or like when you're swimmin' in deep water an' just happen to look down at all that nothin'. Just, all the stuff out there that's too big to know that might keep you up at night if you think about it too much because, as it turns out, there's either no answer, or there's one you might not like all that much. Point bein', there's a reason I keep all this paraphernalia on."

Well, that was something of a revelation, even though Whimsy felt they really could only guess at exactly what Tagger was eluding to. Something unknowable, something too old to really pin down a proper age to, something that couldn't even show its true face or form around anyone. How on Earth did Cab even befriend something like that?!

"So, now that you know somethin' about me, can I ask somethin' about you, Whims?"

Seemed fair, though they weren't too certain they'd like where this was going.

"…Sure."

"Y'can sit down by the way, not gonna bite. Alright, my question is…where've you been, exactly? I can tell you're a faerie, at least on the outside and before whatever happened there, but somethin' like you doesn't just sprout up overnight."

"…I, I was, I've been traveling. Around. I…I spent some time in a village, a good ways north of here." Whimsy haltingly replied, sinking down to sit next to Tagger.

"Yeah? Spent a while up there?"

"Yeah. I, I was staying with a family…they didn't really know I was staying with them." This felt like the start of a chain reaction, Whimsy fully aware that this was, while not the worst of their crimes, a good lead into the destruction they'd wrecked.

"Guessin' the family might not have reacted well to their house guest, huh?"

"…One did. There was an older woman who lived there. She was blind. I thought if I could make my case to her, then, maybe they'd let me stay…"

"Didn't work out?"

"No. Her family came back, and they saw me, and chased me away, and when I'd gotten back they'd left and I-" Fire, fire had happened as the little cottage that they'd been so fond of burned up around them like some portion of Hell had risen to devour it. Whimsy had been angry, true, but there'd been something so soul-chilling in the sight that it had sapped them of their anger like a bucket of water to the face. Their efforts to put out the flames had ended in burns, burns that hadn't stopped stinging until they'd been able to douse it with water from the well and despite their best efforts, the whole thing had gone up. They'd had the thought in the back of their mind before, but especially now as they relived the memory, they couldn't help wondering what happened to the family. Did they come back? Did they see what the faerie had done?

"…I burned their house down."

"You don't sound proud of that."

"I wasn't, I'm not, I just…I got angry." A deep sigh, before Whimsy went with the first thought knocking about in their stitched-together head. "Doesn't matter anymore. Wouldn't have worked."

"Maybe you didn't find the right people."

"There aren't any right people. Nobody cares about me."

"You sure?" Tagger's voice had started to take on that semi-teasing lilt again, the reanimated faerie finding that they had barely any patience left for that nonsense, thank you.

"…Look, whatever you want to say, just come out and say it."

"Don't know the specifics, but Cab didn't have to say he'd be your friend, right? Fancy didn't have to let you stay in his house. I didn't have to carry you back up to your room last night. But we did. Kids didn't have to get you presents either. But they did. Know your experience is a little skewed, but…what'dya have to lose in tryin' again, Whims? Besides, you're not dealin' with some run of the mill, salt of the earth types. We're all pretty weird. Think I just demonstrated my own case decently well. And, if you're runnin' around with a crowd of folks that're weird, d'you really stand out?"

It was a good point, Whimsy going quiet as they considered it. They were, unique, for sure, and they were pretty sure that there wasn't anyone else in the world like them, but, considering what they were learning about their new housemates, maybe someone exactly like them wasn't needed.

"We're a stubborn bunch, Whims. You ain't gettin' rid of us that easy." The words, in and of themselves, were something to think on, but what grabbed Whimsy's attention was the fact that Tagger, did something. Made some sort of motion like he was going to reach out to the reanimated faerie, but as Whimsy stared and leaned away, Tagger pulled back.

"Alrighty then, suit yourself," he murmured, almost sounding dismissive. Though as Tagger made it to the door, he glanced back to the faerie. "And, if and when you're ready, c'mon down. We'd like to see you sometime."

They'd all like to see them. There was nothing in Tagger's voice that suggested a falsehood, which made the knee-jerk, resulting thought that no, no one wanted to see them, feel very much like a double-edged sword. Keeping anyone else away, but cutting deep somewhere inside.

"Oh, by the way, Whims," Tagger spoke up, twisting around in a way that didn't look altogether right as the neon pie-cut eyes glimmering from underneath the hood glanced back at the reanimated faerie. "Left you a surprise on one of your gifts, but you gotta turn the lights off and close the curtains to see it. Anyway, see you 'round!"

And with that, he was gone, leaving a somewhat confused Whimsy in his wake. Bemusedly their eyes turned to the little stones that were now sitting innocently on their dresser, the faerie even resorting to going over and picking them up for a closer look. Left something on them? What the heck did that mean?

Though there was the added stipulation of the lights, Whimsy quietly putting the stones back down before going to the light switch and then crossing the room to get the curtains.

It was when they turned back to the stones that they saw the glimmers of light, almost like paint, dotting the surface of the darker one. But it was only when they got close and picked it up that the reanimated faerie could read what had been scrawled over the rock.

A simple message, written in brilliantly neon colors with ever letter being a different shade: Hi Whimsy!

And a sort of design underneath it that, as they turned it around, looked like a small, simplified face winking at them.

It was such a small thing, the kids not having to think to get them a present but Tagger also had not had to add in the extra message. But it felt both lightening, and a little worrying. Like Whimsy was standing on the edge of a precipice and couldn't see the bottom of the pit they were looking to jump into. They'd seen groups of people, both friends and presumably families, that looked to have that perfect happiness.

It had been a strong lure, as perfect and content as it looked, to tease Whimsy from the trees and pique them to try talking to the people they saw. But it had never worked. Even when the other person couldn't see how they looked, it never worked.

Whimsy was weird, Whimsy was wrong, Whimsy was disgusting, a monster, unwanted, not supposed to be…

In a snap, they realized that they had started to squeeze the little stone, and immediately loosened their grip with a worried grimace. The present, and the message written upon it, were thankfully unharmed, Whimsy looking down at it for a moment before carefully placing it back on the dresser.

Their attention was grabbed by a brief shuffling noise in the hallway, Whimsy wondering for a brief instant if Tagger had come back to see if his gift had been warmly received. The door had been left open a crack, a few strides taking them over to it and a brief nudge opening it enough for them to look out into the hall.

Which was empty. Whimsy peered left, then right, seeing no one.

They pulled back into their room, thoughts turning to what Tagger had said before. Maybe, maybe they would try to go downstairs in a little bit. Just to maybe explore the place a little more, though they couldn't help a mental block on the notion of what they would do if they actually encountered anyone. Maybe better to tackle that in the moment rather than try to plan ahead, planning ahead didn't seem to do them much good…

Whimsy ended up being so engrossed in their own thoughts, that they missed seeing the door to Fancy's workroom, which had been open a crack, surreptitiously slid shut as they returned to their own room.

It took a few hours before Whimsy felt ready, heading down to the landing and ending up a little relieved by how quiet the main area was. Bee, it seemed, had left, and though the sight was calming, they were still on-edge given that just because the more-visible car had apparently stepped out didn't mean that the others weren't here somewhere.

Though, thankfully, at least from the higher-up vantage point, Whimsy could safely say that they couldn't outright see anyone wandering around in near the couch below, or in the kitchen. Listening around revealed that things were quiet, though a quick glance to the windows drew Whimsy's eye to the fact that the sky had gone gray, the first of a rainfall pattering against the glass.

It did kill the fleeting impulse to actually wander around outside, though Whimsy was loath to just return to their room. Not after they'd come this far. Maybe, even with the possibility of someone coming along, they could just sit for a while.

So, with that thought in mind, they slipped the rest of the way down the stairs, walking past the little kitchen area to the sort-of living room.

It was a good thing that Whimsy had gotten into the habit of watching where they were putting their feet, otherwise they might've traipsed all over the two little forms simply sprawled on the living room floor. As such, they simply stood there for a moment, a foot handing in the air as they stared. Sunny was predictable enough, the little canine-gargoyle faerie arranged like a sleeping puppy, but Manny was…more interesting, to say the least. At least, Whimsy was fairly sure that when things looked all disjointed and, spread out like that, they were supposed to be dead. Actually dead, but then again, Manny being a little skeleton, maybe the rules were different?

Either way, this was a little more weird than they felt equipped to handle, especially from children, so the reanimated faerie turned on their heel. Thankfully, Patches was just coming out of the back room, though the other faerie's lighter tread meant that Whimsy nearly ended up running into her when they peeked out. Immediately both recoiled, Whimsy with an apology on their lips, though they ended up truncating it, given that Patches had that ever-present serene look as she considered them. The kind that barely seemed to get ruffled, it was almost maddening given that it made it difficult to tell what she was really thinking.

But it would be…wrong, to simply judge the other faerie for a trick of her demeanor, something not able to be really helped, so Whimsy simply bit their tongue and stayed quiet on their internal thoughts. Instead, they turned, gesturing to the scene in the living room as they tried their best to convey the issue at hand.

"I just, I found them like this, is Manny supposed to be…?"

Patches peeked around them, pale, unblinking eyes immediately lighting on the slumbering pair. Perhaps it was relieving, in a way, that the cloth-made faerie didn't immediately blanch, or scream, but that calm serenity was a little maddening. This was precisely why they'd been so slow to integrate with anyone, Fancy was easy to read, Cab was too earnest to have ulterior motives, the children were children, Bee was a demon, if not an easy-going one, and Tagger was…Tagger. Whimsy still had yet to figure that one out, but at least he had more visible moods, unlike Patches who seemed to skate through life with a strange sort of distant coolness.

"This happens sometimes," she was saying, lightly skirting over with barely a noise. "You can just pick up Sunny. I'll show you what to do with Manny. Just watch my hands."

"If you just give him a little help, he'll come together on his own." To illustrate her point her gentle motions of picking up the somewhat discombobulated skeleton caused Manny's bones to jolt back into place, Patches carefully scooping up the small monster and tucking him close, like Whimsy had seen mothers handle their children. Manny himself barely woke up, automatically snuggling in to Patches's shoulder, though the reanimated faerie felt themselves bristle as those unblinking eyes turned to them.

"You can try picking up Sunny. As long as she's comfortable, it should be fine."

Though there was a part of them that bristled at the notion, especially since Sunny could easily fit in an arm, Whimsy still knelt, reaching carefully out to the small, winged body. It was only after they'd carefully plucked the wolf puppy-like faerie off the ground that they realized that Sunny had been sleeping on top of something. It was a sheave of paper, along with some pencils, though what drew Whimsy's attention was what was on the paper.

"Sunny likes to draw," Patches said by way of explanation as Whimsy picked up the paper, though something in their expression caught her eye. "Is something wrong?"

"I, she drew me."

And it was so, Whimsy able to more feel than hear Patches coming around to look, but for the moment they had no space left for their knee-jerk guardedness. They only had eyes for this, picture. This child's creation that had them as a part of the group, standing under a bright sun and blue sky, amongst what looked like long, yellow grass. Strangely enough, Tagger was the tallest of the group, Whimsy competing with Cab for second-tallest, and what was probably Bee looked like more of a jumble of red and black than a proper car, Sunny, Manny, and Fancy looking similarly blobbish, but it was all recognizable. And they were a part of it.

"Patches told us," Sunny spoke up through a yawn, having woken as Whimsy had picked her up, ", 'bout the fields she used to live in, when she scared the crows. She said it was like a dream, when it was sunny, and the winds blew through the fields. It's her best place. She said I could use it. Wanted you to be there too. No more bad people, just us. All of us."

"Wh-Why…?" Whimsy forced out, their mouth feeling very dry as something about the word, or perhaps the emotions behind it, stuck in their throat. But Sunny merely looked up at them with her cherry red eyes, beaming that sort of empathetic heaviness that most children didn't have. Maybe Whimsy might've considered it more, though right now, their emotions were bubbling up their throat, coming out in a soft sob at what had simply fallen in their lap.

"If I had known…I would never have given you breath!"

"You're an object of shame, without soul or a name!"

"You…no place but…THE GRAVE…"

"No," Cab had said the other night, when they'd first met. "You don't need him! You don't need someone that don't want you! He's hurt you, cut him out of your life! If you need somewhere to go, you can come with me, with us."

"You're a little late offering me friendship," Whimsy had replied, a sneer curling their lip as they glared at the bizarre…thing, a creature dressed very much like a man, that stood before them. But, a strange thing was happening, had happened. Even as Cab had spoken, tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes, like he'd meant every word of what he'd been about to say.

"But I'm doin' it. Late or on time, the point is in the doin' of the thing! An', if'n you saw someone who you know felt as lonely and as hurtin' as you do now, would you just stand by? Knowin' what you know, and havin' been through what you've been through, would you, would you just let them suffer?"

They hadn't an answer, but when Cab had held out his hand, they'd taken it with only a faint bit of hesitation. Cab had tried more to steer them along, but the way he'd been keeping a grip on Whimsy's hand made them wonder if he thought they might bolt if he let them go. But then he'd turned to them and said something that had been sitting quietly at the back of Whimsy's mind.

"Everythin' in life is a choice, an' while you've gotten one hell of a raw deal, you don't hav'ta stay there, you hear? You won't be alone, not with us."

A choice. Whether they'd been aware of the significance or not, they'd made a choice. And it had brought them something small, but heartfelt, and precious. This, not small, but simple life that accepted them so readily as one of their own. That accepted them as…

"Whimsy, it's okay, I just meant that we're family now, see? Patches, Cab, Tagger, Bee, Fancy, Manny, me, you, we're all a family now." Sunny's voice trembled with upset, though Whimsy felt completely unable to answer. But, like a calm wind, a ray of sun in darkness, Patches's calm, whispery quiet voice spoke up.

"I think Whimsy needs a hug, Sunny. Can you give them a hug? One of your very best?"

The small arms wrapping around what they could of their frame snapped the last, delicate thread holding back the emotional floodgates, Whimsy doing their best not to crush the smaller faerie as they cradled her, and cried. Deep, heaving sobs that came from somewhere far down inside as a wail stayed locked behind a set of clenched teeth, their stitched together frame feeling like it might shake itself to pieces from the maelstrom raging inside.

We're a family…

"No soul or a name!"

You don't have to stay there…

"Corruption of biology…"

You won't be alone…

The feeling of another small frame, this one bonier, coming to hug them caused Whimsy to start, wide eyes finding the equally tumultuous ones of Manny. They must've woken up the little skeleton, but before they could even think to apologize the boney little arms were wrapping around their own arm, Manny tucking in in his own effort.

Whimsy looked up just in time to see Patches kneel in front of them, something beaming through as they made eye contact. That calm serenity swirled with a compassion that loomed as large as the open sky, Patches quietly reaching out to the reanimated faerie, and carefully brushing their tears away with a hand made of course cloth. They were quickly replaced by more, though for the moment Whimsy only bowed their head, shoulders helplessly shivering as they tried their best to ride out the storm.

What they weren't expecting was for Patches to reach out, gently easing them to lean into her shoulder. Her hands, with their faint suggestion of needle-like claws, carefully combed through the topmost layer of their curly mane. Their head rested against Patches's shoulder, folded down enough that even their eight-foot-tall frame could rest comfortably while still not crushing the two children doing their best to give the overwrought faerie a hug.

A soft hum caught Whimsy's attention, Patches's whispery tones rumbling low in her ribcage before it blossomed into a lulling song.

"You'll remember me, when the west wind moves, 'pon the fields of barley, you'll forget the sun in his jealous sky, as we walk in fields of gold…"

The 'best place', a field of pure gold that rippled in the movements of wind like something alive. But peacefully so, like the soft rise and fall of breath. It felt so antithetical to what they had known before, the shouting, the strife, the loneliness, the abandonment…

Though there was a part of Whimsy that wanted to push back, to withdraw until they felt safe, they found they couldn't. It felt so foreign, and yet there was a part of them that couldn't help staying right where they were. It was also the part of them that seemed to be the center of the emotional storm, this screaming, wailing, crying thing that grasped at the physical comfort like a lifeline. Patches's voice blurred in their ears, a lulling hum as their mind moved away from the images of darkness, lightning, mobs, screaming…and to a field of softly waving gold.

The thought caused a soft, near-involuntary sob to rattle through Whimsy's frame, Patches briefly breaking in her song to murmur some soothing words that was probably meant to be nonsense, but somehow, Whimsy couldn't take it that way.

"Shh, shh, we're here, we're here…"

A few moments of that, and carefully rocking them a little, and the scarecrow faerie went back to her tune. Whimsy listened, holding onto it like it was a part of the stitches running throughout their skin as the world dissolved into an exhaustion-dulled haze.

"I never made promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken, but I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold…"

"Hey, Whimsy…" A voice spoke, piercing the calm stupor that had drifted in. In the moment, Whimsy had no other thought apart from that they particularly liked where they were and didn't want to move, burying their face in the material as they tried to get away from whoever this was.

"G'way…"

"Would, but you're kinda pinning Patches to the floor. Wanna try gettin' up on the couch, probably be comfier?" At first, Cab's words were confusing, Whimsy's eyes blinking groggily open before they realized that, well, he was right. Turning their head brought Patches's face into view, the calm, even stare a little softer as she looked down at the reanimated faerie. With a somewhat sheepish flutter in their chest, they realized that they were still using Patches's shoulder and upper body as a pillow, with Sunny and Manny still held close in a careful but firm grip. Whimsy straightened, pulling away from the relatively vulnerable position, but they couldn't make themselves let go of the pair just yet.

With nothing else they could do, and a glance around telling them nothing, they couldn't help asking a somewhat hesitant question.

"H-How long was I asleep?"

"About ten minutes. Not very long at all," Patches replied, stretching now that the weight of all three had been removed.

"Hence why we're bringin' up the couch." Cab pointed out, about to reach down to help Whimsy up before Tagger nudged him aside.

"They got two heads on you, noodle-arms. Lemme do it."

Though Tagger was definitely more than ready to haul Whimsy up, it was a little difficult given that their hands were full of sleeping children. Patches and Cab tried to make it easier by taking at least one per each of them, but Whimsy had a moment of conflict as they looked between the offered hands and the little forms nestled against their front.

"It's okay," Cab spoke, catching Whimsy's hesitation. "They're pretty much out. You wanna take five with 'em?"

The question provoked a shy, eye-avoiding nod, though no one seemed to begrudge Whimsy an iota as they clambered up onto the sofa, and quietly scooted inward to make room for the sleeping Sunny and Manny. Instead, there were just quiet words on the part of Cab and Tagger, varying levels of affection in the pair's voices as Cab handed Whimsy a blanket and wished them a good nap, and Tagger's neon grin rife with rough warmth as he said he'd see the faerie later.

Sleep well, see you later. Was that normal to hear, and to feel like it was being meant? They weren't sure if they wanted to ask, but it definitely was a first for them. But, as Cab and Tagger were moving away, it suddenly struck Whimsy that Patches was still standing by, and apparently had something to say.

"You can come to me again if you need to talk, I don't mind. Also," she murmured, kneeling down next to the couch to look Whimsy in the eye. "You have brambles in your hair. I got about three out but there's probably more. We can try to fix that later if you like."

The faerie in question wasn't sure they could offer much to that, but Patches thankfully didn't seem to need an answer, getting up and leaving without any prompting. Whimsy was left blinking in the wake of that, before deciding that, well, they didn't need to really decide anything now and settling into the pillow with a sigh.

The slight movement made both Sunny and Manny move around, twitching and squirming for a moment or two. Without thinking Whimsy reached out and placed an arm over the pair, mostly for the sake of keeping them from rolling off the couch, but found themselves surprised when Sunny turned to huddle into them, Manny's arms reaching over Whimsy's and wrapping around like the limb was a stuffed animal.

It made the realization hammer in all the more that these little creatures, these kids, trusted them. Trusted them enough to sleep peacefully next to them, trusted them enough to let them into their home, draw pictures of them like they were one of the, the family.

The thought had Whimsy swallow another lump in their throat, a prickling at the corners of their eyes stubbornly forced back down because they were sick and tired of feeling miserable. Besides, if they started up again it might wake the kids.

"Shh, go to sleep, you're safe with me." They found themselves murmuring anyway, a faint tremble eating at their voice as they huddled around Sunny and Manny.

The sounds of the rain pattering on the windowpanes formed a soothing backdrop, Whimsy's eyes lazily drifting to see the water as it ran in rivets down the glass. It didn't quite banish the sounds of fire, of screams, that lay burned in their memory, nor the ghostly feeling of a noose tightening around their neck…

…But it was some space. It was a start. Maybe that would be good enough for right now, the thought bringing enough peace to the reanimated faerie that they let their eyes slip closed, breathing growing slow and deep as they slipped into slumber.

It made them miss when, a little while later, a much shorter figure came round the sofa to look at the little huddle gathered there. Fancy looked upon the otherwise sweet scene, a slight furrow in his brow as his eyes turned to the hand and arm Whimsy had used to keep Sunny and Manny close, covered in stitches that he knew so very well. Because he'd sown them with his own hands, slaved for hours over the eight-foot-tall frame that now belonged to the sleeping faerie on his couch.

Briefly, the tailor reached out for the fingers in some knee-jerk impulse to inspect them, before the thought of what if Whimsy woke up, how on earth he would explain what he was doing made him draw back. Thankfully none of them moved, but it left Fancy standing there, awkwardly staring, and wondering what on earth to do.

The sight of a light flashing from behind the sofa, out in the garage, quickly caught the tailor's attention, and he followed the nonverbal signal all the way to the car innocuously parked in the far corner of the garage. The door opened silently in an invitation, Fancy climbing into the driver's seat with an exhausted sigh and feeling more tired than he'd felt back when Cab had simply brought his 'new friend' right to their doorstep.

"You gonna tell them?" Bee's voice spoke from the radio, quiet but questioning. Not accusing, or forceful, but like a nudge on your shoulder to get you in gear. But right now, Fancy very much did not want to 'get in gear'. Instead, one of his arms folded over his front, his hand coming up to knead at his forehead to dispel the growing ache there.

"Okay, different question," Bee started, "what'dya think of them? It's been a few days, you gotta have at least some thoughts."

"I think…they've had to deal with far more than they should have. That that stupid idiot…made some very big mistakes in handling them. That they've probably been alone for a while. I'm glad they're connecting with people though, be it Cab, or Sunny and Manny, or Patches. It should be good for them."

"Alright. Gonna let 'em stay?" Bee asked, the sudden question catching Fancy off-guard.

"Huh?"

"Whimsy. It's your house. Is it okay if they stay?"

He could tell that this wasn't meant to cast doubt on Whimsy or their character, but if the tailor were to be any judge he would say that this might be a way to make up for the downright shock that Cab simply bringing the reanimated faerie home had been. Especially given that it was practically unannounced, which was something that tended to throw everyone when it came to Cab. In a group of supernaturals that had to adhere to some strict etiquette rules, the one that behaved the most like a mortal, with all of the spontaneity that came with, tended to stand out like a sore thumb. Even if, to this day, Cab was something of a mystery. A mystery that tended to be danced around, given that telling someone like Cab that they were 'different' was usually a recipe for the checkered-skinned toon to just avoid the issue and then for him to burn out a few days later from how much he tried to avoid dealing with it.

And, either way, it wasn't like Whimsy had destroyed his house or anything, so Fancy didn't feel too much conflict over his next words.

"Don't think I could throw them out now even if I tried. The kids would be too upset if their new playmate left. Cab wouldn't like it either." It also probably wouldn't be very good for Whimsy to be just acclimating to a new place and then be thrown out. If anything, it would likely undo that bit of progress that Fancy had just seen. And, though Fancy might not admit it to anyone other than himself, there was a slowly growing sense of responsibility for the reanimated faerie. If the mayor would not look out for his own creation, then maybe the only other person aware of the circumstances behind said creation should.

"Good point." Bee's voice rumbled through the speakers, before taking on a somewhat more hesitant air as he asked his next question. "You, uh, holdin' up okay?"

"I'll be fine. You're not worried, are you?"

"Think Tagger an' I have been sorta worried since you called us to come get you. First time I saw you that freaked out by anything. Second might'a been when Whimsy came in."

To be fair, Fancy ruminated, both instances had been firsts for him too. The fact that a reanimated myth had simply been brought to his doorstep was a shock in and of itself, but the fact that it was the same myth that he'd been more or less forced to slave over, put together from dead bodies, and whose creator pushed him to the point of a nervous breakdown, now that was enough to perhaps add to the gray streak in the tailor's hair.

The nervous breakdown itself had been something, given that while Fancy could say that he'd had rough points in his life before, there was nothing quite like the experience he'd had when one of the bodies that Whimsy's creator had been working with turned out to be a little more rotten than previously thought. Mostly because trying to take anything from it had resulted in a horrid, absolutely putrid smell filling the room, Fancy having gotten a glimpse enough of the rotting features that he'd about lost whatever little he'd been able to eat beforehand. He'd run out, managing to get a call home and getting Tagger, and of course he'd come with Bee for expediency's sake.

The ride home was an ordeal, given that by the time Fancy had been sitting on the curb for a good fifteen minutes, trying to banish the stench and sights from his mind, he'd become uncomfortably aware just how acquainted he'd become with the dead. The sight of dehydrated, blackened flesh no longer enough to sicken him but in retrospect it was all the more horrifying. He'd tried to focus, tried to buckle down, tried to tell himself that it was just a job and he'd make it through, and the mayor had definitely been paying good money that could be put to good use.

But in the end it wasn't enough, and Tagger had been coming just shy of outright putting his foot down in stating it. It wasn't enough to justify poor sleep and worsening health. It wasn't enough to make up for the fact that Fancy knew, in his heart of hearts, that what the mayor wanted wouldn't be so easily obtained. Some 'conditions' just weren't curable, and death was unfortunately in that category. And while the tailor had been able to ignore the niggling concerns in the back of his mind about just where these bodies were coming from, there was the part of him that wondered if they were all being obtained by 'legal' means. Or, if any family involved might be aware of what was happening to their loved ones.

There was only one body that he'd felt more or less sure about, the one that the mayor had had set up on that main table, the one that had been having the most alterations done to it. That one had clearly died not that long ago, still with a shadow of life in its features. In the right light, it almost looked like someone languishing under an illness, their face frozen in a look of quiet but poignant resignation though their neck had been a little oddly bent.

Perhaps it was to be expected, given that it was a faerie's corpse, though there had been a part of Fancy that had been a little put off by how dismal the expression was coupled with what the mayor had been doing. Perhaps it could be partially blamed on the fact that he knew faeries, Patches and Sunny, and to see either of them in this position would have been gut-wrenching. But he hadn't known this one, so looking at them had just brought a sort of melancholy irritation for their situation.

You look like you've suffered enough. Can't he just let you rest?

But then that night had happened, and Fancy had taken a break for a few days to come back to a note on the door for him, explaining that his services were no longer required. There was talk of a payment, the mayor had sounded apologetic regarding the whole incident, but Fancy's mind kept going over what had happened when he'd asked why his services hadn't been needed anymore. The mayor's exact words were that the experiment had been a failure, but he didn't elaborate.

Maybe that should have been a sign that not all was well, but Fancy had believed the whole endeavor impossible. How was he to know it had actually succeeded in creating something?

Though, as Fancy snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that he'd more or less been sitting in silence, ruminating, for a good minute now, with Bee patiently waiting for him to reply.

"…I'm doing better, promise. Startled me, definitely, but I'm feeling more…balanced. Definitely less 'freaked out', as you put it."

"Good to hear there. Though, Fancy…I get 'not now', but, be careful with that kinda secret. If anything just because it'll end up sitting like a rock in the trunk."

"Fair enough. Worried I'll get more gray hair?" It might've been a bit of an unfair thing to joke about, as while Fancy had adjusted to the streak of gray in his hair following the whole incident with the mayor, the supernatural cast of characters in his household…really hadn't. At least, not until everyone was sure he wasn't about to keel over given that they'd all made the somewhat correct assertion that 'going gray' could mean that you were close to the end of your life. It had taken at least a few weeks for them all to back off, though out of all of them, Tagger and Bee were the only ones that knew the full circumstances. Still, there was a laugh in Bee's tone as he replied, hinting that while there might be a worry it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been.

"Hey, don't even go there, mister. Not until you're at least pushin' fifty."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful. And, I probably will tell them. Just not right now. Thank you, Bee." The words were punctuated with a gentle pat on the steering wheel, the lights flickering like a grin in reply.

"Welcome. Gotta work on stuff?"

"As always."

"Can you show me sometime? Can't exactly make it up the stairs…or wear clothes, but it looks fun." It might've been an odd request for a car to make, but Fancy was decently sure that Bee had made similar ones before now, about various things that though he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of him being able to participate he still wanted to know about. Ergo, it wasn't too hard to agree.

"Sure thing."

As Fancy was about to cross the living room, his path brought him within viewing distance of the huddle still slumbering on the couch, the tailor pausing for a moment to sort of re-take in the sight. Whimsy's face was quietly relaxed, arm still in that careful, protective position over Sunny and Manny, the pair just barely visible though Fancy could see Manny's much smaller arms still wrapped around the darker, stitched-together limb.

It was a surprisingly sweet sight, even with the unusual-ness of the cast of characters. Fancy gave a quiet, calm smile, before heading for the stairs.

[chaakjigar]

Tum Ik Gorakh Dhanda Ho

By Naz Khialvi کبھی یہاں تمہیں ڈھونڈا کبھی وہاں پہنچا kabhi yahaan tumhein dhoonda kabhi wahaan pohancha At times I searched for you here, at times I traveled there

تمہاری دید کی خاطر کہاں کہاں پہنچا tumhaari deed ki khaatir kahaan kahaan pohancha For the sake of seeing You, how far I have come! غریب مٹ گئے پامال ہو گئے لیکن ghareeb mit gaye paamaal ho gaye lekin Similar wanderers wiped away and ruined, but کسی تلک نہ ترا آج تک نشاں پہنچا kisi talak na tera aaj tak nishaan pohancha Your sign has still not reached anyone

ہو بھی نہیں اور ہر جا ہو ho bhi naheen aur har ja ho You are not, yet You are everywhere تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

ہر ذرّے میں کس شان سے تو جلوہ نما ہے har zarre mein kis shaan se tu jalwa-numa hai With what majesty You manifest Yourself in each atom! حیراں ہے مگر عقل کہ کیسا ہے تو کیا ہے hairaan hai magar aqal ke kaise hai tu kya hai But my mind is astonished by how you are, what you are تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

تجھے دیر و حرم میں میں نے ڈھونڈا تو نہیں ملتا tujhe dair-o-haram mein maine dhoonda tu naheen milta I looked for you in the temple and mosque, but you cannot be found مگر تشریف فرما تجھ کو اپنے دل میں دیکھا ہے magar tashreef farma tujhe apne dil mein dekha hai But I have seen You gracing my heart with Your presence تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

ڈھونڈے نہیں ملے ہو نہ ڈھونڈے سے کہیں تم dhoonde naheen mile ho na dhoonde se kaheen tum You are not found through searching; nor through searching are You anywhere اور پھر یہ تماشہ ہے جہاں ہم ہیں وہیں تم aur phir ye tamaasha hai jahaan ham hain waheen tum But then there is this spectacle that You are wherever we are تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

جب بجز تیرے کوئی دوسرا موجود نہیں jab bajuz tere koi doosra maujood naheen When besides you, there is no second in existence پھر سمجھ میں نہیں آتا تیرا پردہ کرنا phir samajh mein naheen aata tera parda karna I do not understand why you seclude yourself تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

حرم و دیر میں ہے جلوۂ پرفن تیرا haram-o-dair mein hai jalwa-e-pur-fan tera In the mosque and temple your artful manifestation is present دو گھروں کا ہے چراغ اک رخِ روشن تیرا do gharon ka hai charaagh ik rukh-e-raushan tera Your one face is the light of two homes [mosque and temple] تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

جو الفت میں تمہاری کھو گیا ہے jo ulfat mein tumhaari kho gaya hai The individual who has lost himself in your affection اسی کھوئے ہوئے کو کچھ ملا ہے usi khoye hue ko kuchh mila hai It is that lost one who has actually found something نہ بت خانے نہ کعبے میں ملا ہے na but-khane na kaabe mein mila hai He found You in neither the idol house nor in the Kaaba مگر ٹوٹے ہوئے دل میں ملا ہے magar toote hue dil mein mila hai Rather he found You in a broken heart عدم بن کر کہیں تو چھپ گیا ہے adam ban kar kaheen tu chhup gaya hai You have hidden somewhere as nothingness کہیں تو ہست بن کر آ گیا ہے kaheen tu hast ban kar aa gaya hai While elsewhere You have come as existence نہیں ہے تو تو پھر انکار کیسا naheen hai tu to phir inkaar kaisa If You are not, then why deny it? نفی بھی تیرے ہونے کا پتہ ہے nafi bhi tere hone ka pata hai Even negation reveals Your existence میں جس کو کہہ رہا ہوں اپنی ہستی main jis ko keh raha hoon apni hasti That which I am calling my own existence – اگر وہ تو نہیں تو اور کیا ہے agar wo tu naheen to aur kya hai If not You, what else could it be? نہیں آیا خیالوں میں اگر تو naheen aaya khayaalon mein agar tu If You did not come into my thoughts, تو پھر میں کیسے سمجھا تو خدا ہے to phir main kaise samjha tu Khuda hai Then how did I recognize You as God? تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

حیران ہوں اس بات پہ تم کون ہو کیا ہو hairaan hoon is baat pe tum kaun ho kya ho I am astonished thinking about who You are, what You are ہاتھ آؤ تو بت ہاتھ نہ آؤ تو خدا ہو haath aao to but haath na aao to Khuda ho If I can grasp you, you are an idol, but if not then you are God تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

عقل میں جو گھر گیا لا انتہا کیونکر ہوا aqal mein jo ghir gaya la-intiha kyoonkar hua How can one who is enclosed in our comprehension be boundless? جو سمجھ میں آ گیا پھر وہ خدا کیونکر ہوا jo samajh mein aa gaya phir wo Khuda kyoonkar hua How can one we understand then be God? تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle فلسفی کو بحث کے اندر خدا ملتا نہیں

falsafi ko behes ke andar Khuda milta naheen The philosopher does not find God in his arguments ڈور کو سلجھا رہا ہے اور سرا ملتا نہیں dor ko suljha raha hai aur sira milta naheen He is untangling the cord but cannot ever find its end تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

پتہ یوں تو بتا دیتے ہو سب کو لا مکاں اپنا pata yoon to bata dete ho sab ko la-makaan apna Thus you tell everyone that your address is “nowhere” تعجب ہے مگر رہتے ہو تم ٹوٹے ہوئے دل میں ta’ajjub hai magar rehte ho tum toote hue dil mein How amazing it is, though, that you live in a broken heart تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

جب کہ تجھ بن نہیں کوئی موجود jab ke tujh bin naheen koi maujood When there is none except you in existence, پھر یہ ہنگامہ اے خدا کیا ہے phir ye hangama ae Khuda kya hai Then what, O God, is all this commotion about? تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

چھپتے نہیں ہو سامنے آتے نہیں ہو تم chhupte naheen ho saamne aate naheen ho tum You neither hide nor come forth جلوہ دکھا کے جلوہ دکھاتے نہیں ہو تم jalwa dikha ke jalwa dikhaate naheen ho tum Even when showing Yourself, You do not show Yourself دیر و حرم کے جھگڑے مٹاتے نہیں ہو تم dair-o-haram ke jhagre mitaate naheen ho tum You do not wipe out quarrels between religions [the temple and mosque] جو اصل بات ہے وہ بتاتے نہیں ہو تم jo asal baat hai wo bataate naheen ho tum You do not say what the actual truth is حیراں ہوں میرے دل میں سمائے ہو کس طرح hairaan hoon mere dil mein samaaye ho kis tarah I am surprised at how You have occupied my heart حالانکہ دو جہاں میں سماتے نہیں ہو تم haalaanke do jahaan mein samaate naheen ho tum Though even the two worlds cannot accommodate You یہ معبد و حرم یہ کلیسا و دیر کیوں ye maabad-o-haram ye kaleesa-o-dair kyoon Why this shrine and mosque, this church and temple? ہرجائی ہو جبھی تو بتاتے نہیں ہو تم harjaaii ho jabhi to bataate naheen ho tum Whenever there is disloyalty, You do not tell us تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

دل پہ حیرت نہیں عجب رنگ جما رکھا ہے dil pe hairat naheen ajab rang jama rakha hai It is not astonishment, but a wondrous color that has formed on my heart اک الجھی ہوئی تصویر بنا رکھا ہے ek uljhi hui tasveer bana rakha hai You have drawn up a confused picture کچھ سمجھ میں نہیں آتا کہ یہ چکّر کیا ہے kuchh samajh mein naheen aata ke ye chakkar kya hai I do not understand what this whole matter is کھیل کیا تم نے ازل سے یہ رچا رکھا ہے khel kya tum ne azal se ye racha rakha hai What is this game you have fabricated since eternity? روح کو جسم کے پنجرے کا بنا کر قیدی rooh ko jism ke pinjre ka bana kar qaidi Having made the soul a prisoner to the body, اس پہ پھر موت کا پہرا بھی بٹھا رکھا ہے us pe phir maut ka pehra bhi bitha rakha hai You have then placed it in the custody of death دے کے تدبیر کے پنچھی کو اڑانیں تم نے de ke tadbeer ke panchhi ko uraanen tum ne Having given the bird of Your plan flights دامِ تقدیر میں ہر سمت بچھا رکھا ہے daam-e-taqdeer mein har samt bichha rakha hai You have placed the trap of destiny for it on each side کر کے آرائشیں کونین کی برسوں تم نے kar ke aaraaishen kaunain ki barson tum ne Having decorated the two worlds for eons ختم کرنے کا بھی منصوبہ بنا رکھا ہے khatam karne ka bhi mansooba bana rakha hai You have also established a plan for destruction لا مکانی کا بہرحال ہے دعوہ بھی تمہیں la-makaani ka bahar-haal hai daawa bhi tumhein Though in any case you claim to be without a home نَحْنُ اَقْرَب کا بھی پیغام سنا رکھا ہے nahnu aqrab ka bhi paighaam suna rakha hai You have also told us the message of “We are nearer…” [Qur’an 50:16] یہ برائی وہ بھلائی یہ جہنم وہ بہشت ye buraai wo bhalai ye jahannum wo bahisht This badness, that goodness, this hell, that heaven اس الٹ پھیر میں فرماؤ تو کیا رکھا ہے is ulat pher mein farmaao to kya rakha hai Do explain to me, what is the point of this jumbled mess? جرم آدم نے کیا اور سزا بیٹوں کو jurm Aadam ne kiya aur saza beton ko Adam sinned, yet his children were given the punishment عدل و انصاف کا معیار بھی کیا رکھا ہے adal-o-insaaf ka meyaar bhi kya rakha hai What kind of standard of equity and justice have You kept? دے کے انسان کو دنیا میں خلافت اپنی de ke insaan ko dunya mein khilaafat apni By giving mankind Your viceregency on Earth, اک تماشہ سا زمانے میں بنا رکھا ہے ik tamaasha sa zamaane mein bana rakha hai You have created a spectacle in the world اپنی پہچان کی خاطر ہے بنایا سب کو apni pehchaan ki khaatir hai banaaya sab ko You made everyone for the sake of recognizing You سب کی نظروں سے مگر خود کو چھپا رکھا ہے sab ki nazron se magar khud ko chhupa rakha hai But You have hidden Yourself from everyone’s vision تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

نت نئے نقش بناتے ہو مٹا دیتے ہو nit naye naqsh banaate ho mita dete ho Continuously you make and erase new designs جانے کس جرمِ تمنّا کی سزا دیتے ہو jaane kis jurm-e-tamanna ki saza dete ho Who knows which crime of desire You punish us for کبھی کنکر کو بنا دیتے ہو ہیرے کی کنی kabhi kankar ko bana dete ho heere ki kani At times you turn pebbles into a mine of diamonds کبھی ہیروں کو بھی مٹّی میں ملا دیتے ہو kabhi heeron ko bhi mitti mein mila dete ho At times you merge even diamonds back into the soil زندگی کتنے ہی مردوں کو عطا کی جس نے zindagi kitne hi murdon ko ata ki jis ne He who gave life to so many corpses وہ مسیحا بھی صلیبوں پہ سجا دیتے ہو wo maseeha bhi saleebon pe saja dete ho Even that Messiah You adorn on crucifixes خواہشِ دید جو کر بیٹھے سرِ طور کوئی khwaahish-e-deed jo kar baithe sar-e-toor koi If someone sits on Mount Sinai with the wish of seeing You طور ہی برقِ تجلّی سے جلا دیتے ہو toor hi barq-e-tajalli se jala dete ho You burn Mount Sinai down with a bolt of brightness نارِ نم��ود میں ڈلواتے ہو خود اپنا خلیل naar-e-Namrood mein dalwaate khud apna khaleel You Yourself get Your friend [Abraham] thrown into the fire of Nimrod خود ہی پھر نار کو گلزار بنا دیتے ہو khud hi phir naar ko gulzaar bana dete ho But then You Yourself turn the fire into a bed of roses چاہِ کنعان میں پھینکو کبھی ماہِ کنعاں chaah-e-kanaan mein phenko kabhi maah-e-kanaan You throw the Moon of Canaan [Joseph] into the well of Canaan نور یعقوب کی آنکھوں کا بجھا دیتے ہو noor Yaaqoob ki aankhon ka bujha dete ho You thereby extinguish the light from Jacob’s eyes [making him blind] بیچو یوسف کو کبھی مصر کے بازاروں میں becho Yoosuf ko kabhi misr ke baazaaron mein Sometimes you sell Joseph in the bazaars of Egypt آخر کار شہِ مصر بنا دیتے ہو aakhir-kaar shah-e-misr bana dete ho But ultimately you make him the king of Egypt جذب و مستی کی جو منزل پہ پہنچتا ہے کوئی jazb-o-masti ki jo manzil pe pohanchta hai koi When one reaches the height of divine absorption and intoxication بیٹھ کر دل میں انا الحق کی صدا دیتے ہو baith kar dil mein ana-al haqq ki sada dete ho Sitting in his heart, you give voice to the words “I am the truth!” خود ہی لگواتے ہو پھر کفر کے فتوے اس پر khud hi lagwaate ho phir kufr ke fatwe us par Then You Yourself place charges of blasphemy on him خود ہی منصور کو سولی پہ چڑھا دیتے ہو khud hi Mansoor ko sooli pe charha dete ho You yourself make Mansoor hang by the noose اپنی ہستی بھی وہ اک روز گنوا بیٹھتا ہے apni hasti bhi wo ik roz ganwa baithta hai One day he too loses his life اپنے درشن کی لگن جس کو لگا دیتے ہو apne darshan ki lagan jis ko laga dete ho Whomever you give the desire of Your sight کوئی رانجھا جو کبھی کھوج میں نکلے تیری koi Raanjha jo kabhi khoj mein nikle teri If some Ranjha departs on a search for You تم اسے جھنگ کے بیلے میں رلا دیتے ہو tum use Jhang ke bele mein rula dete ho You torment him in the forests of Jhang جستجو لے کے تمہاری جو چلے قیس کوئی justajoo le ke tumhaari jo chale Qais koi If some Qais embarks on a quest for You, اس کو مجنوں کسی لیلیٰ کا بنا دیتے ہو us ko Majnoon kisi Laila ka bana dete ho You turn him into a madman for some Laila جوت سسّی کے اگر من میں تمہاری جاگے jot Sassi ke agar man mein tumhaari jaage If love for You awakens in Sassi’s heart تم اسے تپتے ہوئے تھل میں جلا دیتے ہو tum use tapte hue thal mein jala dete ho You burn her in the scorching desert سوہنی گر تم کو مہینوال تصوّر کر لے Sohni gar tum ko Maheenwaal tasawwur kar le If Sohni imagines You as Mahiwal اس کو بکھری ہوئی لہروں میں بہا دیتے ہو us ko bikhri hui lehron mein baha dete ho You drown her in the frenzied waves خود جو چاہو تو سرِ عرش بلا کر محبوب khud jo chaho to sar-e-arsh bula kar mehboob If You desire then You can summon Your beloved to the highest heavens ایک ہی رات میں معراج کرا دیتے ہو ek hi raat mein mairaaj kara dete ho In just one night, you complete the Nightly Journey to Heaven [of Muhammad] تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

آپ ہی اپنا پردہ ہو aap hi apna parda ho You are Your own veil تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

جو کہتا ہوں مانا تمہیں لگتا ہے برا سا jo kehta hoon maana tumhein lagta hai bura sa Granted, what I say seems bad to You پھر بھی ہے مجھے تم سے بہرحال گلا سا phir bhi hai mujhe tum se bahar-haal gila sa But still, I have a complaint to you in any case چپ چاپ رہے دیکھتے تم عرشِ بریں پر chup-chaap rahe dekhte tum arsh-e-bareen par You remained quiet, looking from the Sublime Throne at تپتے ہوئے کربل میں محمد کا نواسہ tapte hue Karbal mein Muhammad ka nawaasa Muhammad’s grandson [Hussein] in burning Karbala کس طرح پلاتا تھا لہو اپنا وفا کا kis tarah pilaata tha lahoo apna wafa ko How he let his blood become a drink of loyalty خود تین دنوں سے وہ اگرچہ تھا پیاسہ khud teen dinon se wo agarche tha pyaasa Even though he had been thirsty for three days دشمن تو بہرحال تھے دشمن مگر افسوس dushman to bahar-haal the dushman magar afsos The enemy was, after all, the enemy – but how sad it is تم نے بھی فراہم نہ کیا پانی ذرا سا tum ne bhi faraaham na kiya paani zara sa That You did not provide even a little bit of water ہر ظلم کی توفیق ہے ظالم کی وراثت har zulm ki taufeeq hai zaalim ki viraasat The bounty for every cruelty is the inheritance of the oppressor مظلوم کے حصّے میں تسلّی نہ دلاسہ mazloom ke hisse mein tasalli na dilaasa But the oppressed is given neither consolation nor comfort کل تاج سجا دیکھا تھا جس شخص کے سر پر kal taaj saja dekha tha jis shakhs ke sar par Yesterday, the individual who had a crown adorning his head ہے آج اسی شخص کے ہاتھوں میں ہکاسہ hai aaj usi shakhs ke haathon mein hikaasa Today I see a beggar’s bowl in the same individual’s hands یہ کیا ہے اگر پوچھوں تو کہتے ہو جوابًا ye kya hai agar poochhoon to kehte ho jawaaban If I ask what all this is, You say in response: اس راز سے ہو سکتا نہیں کوئی شناسا is raaz se ho sakta naheen koi shanaasa “No one can be acquainted with this secret!” تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

حیرت کی اک دنیا ہو hairat ki ik dunya ho You are a world of bewilderment تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

ہر ایک جا پہ ہو لیکن پتہ نہیں معلوم har ek ja pe ho lekin pata naheen maaloom You are in each and every place but I do not know your whereabouts تمہارا نام سنا ہی نشاں نہیں معلوم tumhaara naam suna hai nishaan naheen maaloom I have heard your name, but your mark I do not know تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

دل سے ارمان جو نکل جائے تو جگنو ہو جائے dil se armaan jo nikal jaaye to jugnoo ho jaaye If a wish emerges from the heart it glows like a firefly اور آنکھوں میں سمٹ آئے تو آنسو ہو جائے aur aankhon mein simat aaye to aansoo ho jaaye And if it condenses in the eyes it becomes tears [of joy] جاپ یا ہو کا جو بیہو کرے ہو میں کھو کر jaap ya hoo ka jo behoo kare hoo mein kho kar By getting lost in Him [God] through the repeated chant of“Ya Hoo” اس کو سلطانیاں مل جائیں وہ باہو ہو جائے us ko sultaaniyaan mil jaaein wo Baahoo ho jaaye One receives lordships and becomes like Sultan Bahoo بال بیکا نہ کسی کا ہو چھری کے نیچے baal bika na kisi ka ho chhuri ke neeche Some receive not the slightest of injury under a knife حلقِ اصغر میں کبھی تیر ترازو ہو جائے halq-e-asghar mein kabhi teer taraazoo ho jaaye But at times an arrow in Asghar’s throat becomes the scale [of justice] تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

کس قدر بےنیاز ہو تم بھی kis qadar be-niyaaz ho tum bhi How carefree You are, too! داستانِ دراز ہو تم بھی daastaan-e-daraaz ho tum bhi A lengthy saga You are, too! تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

راہِ تحقیق میں ہر گام پہ الجھن دیکھوں raah-e-tehqeeq mein har gaam pe uljhan dekhoon On the path of inquiry, I see confusion at every footstep وہی حالات و خیالات میں انبن دیکھوں wahi haalaat-o-khayaalaat mein anban dekhoon I see that discord between circumstances and ideas بن کے رہ جاتا ہوں تصویر پریشانی کی ban ke reh jaata hoon tasveer pareshaani ki I become a picture of distress غور سے جب بھی کبھی دنیا کے درپن دیکھوں ghaur se jab bhi kabhi dunya ke darpan dekhoon Whenever I closely look at the world’s mirror ایک ہی خاک پہ فطرت کے تضادات اتنے ek hi khaak pe fitrat ke tazaadaat itne On one earth, there are so many conflicts of nature اتنے حصّوں میں بنٹا ایک ہی آنگن دیکھوں itne hisson mein banta ek hi aangan dekhoon I see one courtyard divided into so many parts کہیں زحمت کی سلگتی ہوئی پتجھڑ کا سما kaheen zehmat ki sulagti hui patjhar ka sama Somewhere there is the season of the burning autumn of hardship کہیں رحمت کے برستے ہوئے ساون دیکھوں kaheen rehmat ke baraste hue saawan dekhoon Somewhere I see the descending monsoons of mercy کہیں پھنکارتے دریا کہیں خاموش پہاڑ kaheen phunkaarte darya kaheen khaamosh pahaar Somewhere hissing rivers, somewhere silent mountains کہیں جنگل کہیں صحرا کہیں گلشن دیکھوں kaheen jangal kaheen sehra kaheen gulshan dekhoon Somewhere jungle, somewhere desert, somewhere rose gardens I see خون رلاتا ہے یہ تقسیم کا انداز مجھے khoon rulaata hai ye taqseem ka andaaz mujhe This manner of division makes me weep tears of blood کوئی دھنوان یہاں پر کوئی نردھن دیکھوں koi dhanwaan yahaan par koi nirdhan dekhoon Here I see some rich, some poor دن کے ہاتھوں میں فقط ایک سلگتا سورج din ke haathon mein faqat ek sulagta sooraj In day’s hands, there is only one smoldering sun رات کی مانگ ستراوں سے مزیّن دیکھوں raat ki maang sitaaron se muzayyan dekhoon But I see that night’s part is bejeweled with many stars کہیں مرجھائے ہوئے پھول ہیں سچّائی کے kaheen murjhaaye hue phool hain sachaai ke Somewhere there are the withered flowers of truth اور کہیں جھوٹ کے کانٹوں پہ بھی جوبن دیکھوں aur kaheen jhoot ke kaanton pe bhi joban dekhoon And elsewhere I see the thorns of deceit flourishing شمس کی کھال کہیں کھنچتی نظر آتی ہے Shams ki khaal kaheen khinchti nazar aati hai I see Shams’s skin being peeled off somewhere کہیں سرمد کی اترتی ہوئی گردن دیکھوں kaheen Sarmad ki utarti hui gardan dekhoon Somewhere I see Sarmad’s head coming off

رات کیا شے ہے سویرا کیا ہے raat kya shai hai savera kya hai What is this thing called night, what is dawn? یہ اجالا یہ اندھیرا کیا ہے ye ujaala ye andhera kya hai What is this light, what is this darkness? میں بھی نائب ہوں تمہارا آخر main bhi naaib hoon tumhaara aakhir After all, I too am Your deputy کیوں یہ کہتے ہو کہ تیرا کیا ہے kyoon ye kehte ho ke tera kya hai Why then do you say, “What is yours?”? تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

دیکھنے والا تجھے کیا دیکھتا dekhne waala tujhe kya dekhta What could someone looking for You see? تو نے ہر رنگ سے پردہ کیا tu ne har rang se parda kya You have veiled Yourself in every manner! تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

مسجد مندر یہ مے خانے masjid mandir ye mai-khaane Mosque, temple, these taverns کوئی یہ مانے کوئی وہ مانے koi ye maane koi wo maane Some believe in this, some believe in that سب تیرے ہیں جانا کاشانے sab tere hain jaana kaashaane All of them are Your home, Dear کوئی یہ مانے کوئی وہ مانے koi ye maane koi wo maane Some believe in this, some believe in that اک ہونے کا تیرا قائل ہے ik hone ka tera qaail hai One is persuaded of Your existence انکار پہ کوئی مائل ہے inkaar pe koi maail hai Another is inclined towards denial اصلیت لیکن تو جانے asliyat lekin tu jaane But You alone know the reality کوئی یہ مانے کوئی وہ مانے koi ye maane koi wo maane Some believe in this, some believe in that اک خلق میں شامل کرتا ہے ik khalq mein shaamil karta hai One includes You within creation اک سب سے اکیلا رہتا ہے ik sab se akela rehta hai Another stays aloof from the rest ہیں دونوں تیرے مستانے hain donon tere mastaane Both are Your drunken devotees کوئی یہ مانے کوئی وہ مانے koi ye maane koi wo maane Some believe in this, some believe in that سب ہیں جب عاشق تمہارے نام کے sab hain jab aashiq tumhaare naam ke When all are lovers of Your name, کیوں یہ جھگڑے ہیں رحیم و رام کے kyoon ye jhagre hain Raheem-o-Raam ke Why are there quarrels between Rahim and Ram [Muslims and Hindus]? تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

دیر میں تو حرم میں تو عرش پہ تو زمیں پہ تو dair mein tu haram mein tu arsh pe tu zameen pe tu You are in the temple, in the mosque, in the heavens, on the ground جس کی پہنچ جہاں تلک اس کے لیے وہیں پہ تو jis ki pohanch jahaan talak us ke liye waheen pe tu However far one’s reach goes, You are there for him تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

ہر اک رنگ میں یکتا ہو har ik rang mein yakta ho In every possible aspect, You are unique تم اک گورکھ دھندا ہو tum ik gorakh dhanda ho You are a baffling puzzle

مرکزِ جستجو عالمِ رنگ و بو markaz-e-justajoo aalam-e-rang-o-boo The center of our quest, the world of color and scent دم بدم جلوہ گر تو ہی تو چار سو dam-ba-dam jalwa-gar tu hi tu chaar soo In every breath You are manifest, You are on all four sides ہو کے ماحول میں کچھ نہیں الا ہو Hoo ke maahaul mein kuchh naheen illa hoo In God’s surroundings there is nothing but Him تم بہت دلربا تم بہت خوبرو tum bohat dilruba tum bohat khoobaroo You are very enchanting, You are very beautiful عرش کی عظمتیں فرش کی آبرو arsh ki azmatein farsh ki aabroo Glories of heaven, honor of earth تم ہو کونین کا حاصلِ آرزو tum ho kaunain ka haasil-e-aarzoo You are the attainment of the desires of the two worlds آنکھ نے کر لیا آنسوؤں سے وضو aankh ne kar liya aansoo’on se wazoo My eye has performed ablutions with tears اب تو کر دو عـطا دید کا اک سبو ab to kar do ata deed ka ik suboo Now at least grant me a small proof of Your presence آؤ پردے سے تم آنکھ کے روبرو aao parde se tum aankh ke roo-ba-roo Come out from Your veil, face-to-face with my eye چند لمحے ملن دو گھڑی گفتگو chand lamhe milan do ghari guftagoo For a few moments of union, two hours of discussion نازؔ جپتا پھرے جابجا کوبکو Naaz japta phire ja-ba-ja koo-ba-koo Naz will mutter in devotion, in every place and every alley, وَحْدَہُ وَحْدَہُ لا شَریكَ لَهُ wahdahoo wahdahoo la shareeka lahoo “He is one, He is one, He has no partner!

اللہ هو اللہ هو اللہ هو اللہ هو Allah hoo Allah hoo Allah hoo Allah hoo God is, God is, God is, God is!”

[deans-baby-momma]

Seeking Mercy-Chapter 4

Once they were done confirming that the Fgovalen’s corpse was well hidden from view in the woodland behind the derelict and run down house that it had housed it’s victims in, Dean, Sam and Mary climbed into the Impala to head back to the motel.

“I’ll let Don’ know that it’s been taken care of,” Dean says as he pulls into the empty spot in front of room 23. He watches Sam and Mary get out of the car and waits until he can see that they are safely inside the room before he reverses and heads for the police station.

Although the station is empty when he walks in he knows Donna is still on the premises because her truck is parked in her assigned spot. He knocks on the closed door to her office and waits for permission to enter.

“Come in.”

Dean turns the knob and enters the room to see Donna sitting at her desk, a half-empty bottle of bourbon in her hand. Donna’s eyes widen as she sees who walks in. Flashbacks of her walking into this very room, clad in lingerie, plays in her mind’s eye.

“Taken care of,” is all Dean says.

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” Donna answers him, purposely not making eye contact with her friend and colleague.

“It was a Fgovalen,” Dean tells her, unprompted. “Kind of like a djinn. They take their victims and consume their blood while the victim is living in a dreamworld. Except unlike djinn, Fgovalens don’t kill their victims,” Dean continues to explain, shifting from one foot to the other. “They feed off humans for about a week and then they let them go.”

It is quiet in the office as Dean watches Donna and allows her to absorb the information. “Don’, did you-” Dean clears his throat as he steps toward the chair across from her. “-were you taken?”

“I think so,” Donna’s voice is low and hushed. “I went out to check out that place on 54. The old Henderson place. No one has lived there in years. I remember walking in, with my gun in my hand then the next thing I remember is waking up in my cruiser about a mile down the road. I didn’t realize so much time had passed until I got back to work.”

“How did you explain your absence?” Dean asks.

“Another health retreat,” Donna chuckles before bringing the bottle of bourbon up to her lips. “I must really be out of shape if these people think I go off on health retreats so often.”

“Nah, you’re not out of shape,” Dean honestly says, without thinking. “You’re-”

“Don’t. Just don’t,” Donna’s voice is full of tears as she takes another gulp of the amber liquid. 

“Donna, I have to ask. What was your dream about?”

She throws her head back and laughs at his question. “As if you don’t know. I’m pretty sure that asinine show I gave you earlier is proof of what I dreamed about.”

Dean looks at Donna, taken aback. ‘So that is where all that came from!’ he thinks to himself. ‘Wait, does that mean Donna is into me?’ 

He takes a good look at the sheriff in front of him. ‘Donna is one hell of a woman; pretty in her own way. A little wacky and eccentric but any man would be lucky to land a woman like Sheriff Donna Hanscum.’

“Listen, Donna-” Dean begins but is cut off before he can continue.

“No, it’s alright. I just want you to know, I would never, ever do something like that. Make you cheat on Y/N? Nuh-uh. That ain’t how I roll. I know you love Y/N, you only have eyes for Y/N. I was witness to the big Dean and Y/N romance, remember? Just forget it. Forget what you heard, what you saw. Please?”

“I can do that,” Dean says with a nod and then smiles. “Now are you going to hog all the booze?”

Adam looks up from the newspaper he had been reading.

"Sure. What's up?"

"Uh….well, you know how I was sick this morning?"

"Yea."

"And Dean asked you to stay back to keep a check on me."

Adam smirks as he says, "To make sure you don't drink your weight in whiskey, yea."

"It wasn't a hangover. I've been sick every morning for about a week and a half now."

"You think you got the flu? Are you running a temperature?" Adam stands up out of his chair and approaches her. 

"No. I don't have the flu."

"Well then what's wrong? Oh god, you're not sick sick are you? You're not dying right? Dear god don't tell me you are dying!"

Y/N shakes her head as she wrenches the stick in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she unfurls her fists and produces the test on her palm.

Adam looks confused for a second until it sinks in. He grabs the test out of her hand and studies it.

"Oh my god! Oh my fucking god! We did it, baby! We made a baby! I'm gonna be a father!"

In her anxiety-riddled mind Y/N doesn't comprehend his reaction at first. She doesn't realize that in his mind that he thinks she has only been with him for the past 8 months; that it was a certainty that Adam Milligan-Winchester fathered the baby growing inside her.

That is, until he picks her up and swings her around, laughing and smiling. 

"God, I can't wait to see you get big and round with my kid! Fuck, you have made me so goddamn happy Y/N. I love you so fucking much!"

When he leans in to kiss her is when Y/N realizes her mistake. She made Adam believe that she was announcing to him that he was the father. And that was not what she meant, at all.

"No, Adam. You don't understand."

"What is there to understand? You and I made a life. Our love created a tiny person who is growing in your belly. My baby is in you. Fuck, I'm so happy I could shout it from the mountaintops. Y/N WINCHESTER IS HAVING MY KID!"

"ADAM! SHUT UP! LISTEN TO ME!"

Her raised voice broke through her brother-in-law's celebration and he stopped to look at her.

"Are you not happy baby? I thought this was what you wanted. You begged me to fuck a baby in to you."

"Adam," Y/N calmly says. "I'm pregnant but….I don't know who the father is."

Adam visibly balks at her revelation. His face contorts and he looks like he'd been punched in the stomach; he looks like he is about to lose his dinner.

"Who else could it be? I'm the only one you've been with." Adam says and then looks her straight in the eyes. "Right?"

Shaking her head, Y/N glances around the room, looking at anything other than the youngest Winchester.

"Who?"

"Dean."

"Wait. I thought his dick was like a limp noodle. Didn't think he could get it up, like an old man or something." Adam chuckled. He fucking laughed at Dean's previous situation.

Rage and fury bubbled through her veins at his nonchalance toward his brother's prior predicament.

"Yea and then Cas healed him," she says, a bite in her tone. "He healed all of him, including his ED. And yes,  I've made love with my husband since."

"Oh."

"'Oh.' That is all you can say is 'Oh'? Fuck you Adam! Even if this kid is yours, I'm not telling anyone. And if you appreciate what all we've done for you,  taking you in like a stray and the guys teaching you the family business, you best not utter a word."

Y/N stalks out of the kitchen, leaving Adam standing there dumbfounded and confused. But as he thinks about the possibility that Y/N's baby is his, he gets a smile on his face and a plan begins to take form in his head.

Turning back to the table, Adam begins putting that plan into motion. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​​ @squirrelnotsam​​ @sandlee44​​  @internationalmusicteacher​​ @kricketc29​ @natura1phenomenon​​ @blacktithe7​​ @spnbaby-67​​ @travelingriversideblues-x​​  @keymology​​ @tftumblin​​ @markofdean79​​ @thevelvetseries​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @winchester-fantasies​ @akshi8278​ @michellethetvaddict​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @hoboal87​ @atc74​ @maddiepants​ @delightfullykrispypeach​

[vampirrediaries]

Enemies Of The State : Dark!Klaroline {7}

summary:

This fiction follows the events of just how Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes lost everything that tied them to their humanity, leading them into something neither of them can come back from.

—————

{10 years ago}

Caroline Forbes felt a degree of satisfaction when she finally packed her things. Just the necessities, of course. Hair curler, clothes, blood bags and vervain in case any vampire’s attempted to get in her way. She could annoyingly name a few, which is why she needed to get out of here as fast as she could.

Not that she was scared of fighting off her supernatural counterparts. No, Caroline just couldn’t be bothered with the whole ordeal. New York was only a few hours away, and the sooner she left the better.

She was zipping up her suitcase when her eye caught something. That wretched piece of parchment on which she was perfectly drawn. Caroline scoffed. Guess she could thank Klaus for one thing. If he hadn’t drawn that, she would still be a girly little vampire with her humanity in tact. She quickly stuffed it in one of her bags, paying no mind to it after that.

Caroline thought it was pathetic, really, how she couldn’t keep him out of her head even with her emotions turned off. Whatever, it’s not like i’m gonna see him again.

With all of her things packed and ready to go, Caroline hastily went out the door, throwing her suitcase in the backseat of her car when she reached it. Slamming the door shut, she looked over her home with lifeless eyes from the drivers seat, not knowing that this was one of the last times she would ever see it. Not that she cared, anyways.

With that being done, Caroline started up the engine, finally driving away to the freedom she so craved.

***

Elena Gilbert’s home was only full of silence as they stood in the wake of Caroline’s outburst.

“Who knew Caroline had that in her.” Damon spoke up in efforts to diffuse the silence. Nobody knew the right thing to say, and why would they? The sweet blonde girl they all knew was gone without a trace.

“She’ll get over whatever she’s going through,” Bonnie began to reason “I mean it’s Caroline. What harm could she do?” Elena whisked her head around, beginning to take in the reality of what had just happened.

“It’s Klaus. It’s his influence,” the Doppelgänger said thoughtfully “She wouldn’t be like this is she had some sense to leave him alone.” The room hummed in unision, silently agreeing with Elena.

“What else did all of you expect? She’d go to the first man to call her pretty. It’s kinda sad, actually,” Damon said with disdain as he made his way to the couch. Elena shot him a look, but didn’t bother defending her friend because she silently agreed with the words coming out.

Everyone did.

“I just can’t believe Klaus of all people,” Elena complained “He tried to kill me multiple times. How could she be so careless?”

“I actually thought she had better taste,” Damon said amusedly, a hostile look in his eyes “I mean she did go for me-”

“I never knew how hypocritical all of you were until now.”

Stefan Salvatore finally spoke up, his tone was as fed up as they’d ever heard him. The room turned their heads in unison, taking in the words that were spoken with surprise.

Damon immediately stood up from the couch, his expression an amused one as he walked towards his only sibling. “Go ahead and enlighten us, brother” His eyes shone with a twisted curiosity “On how we are the hypocrites.”

Stefan scoffed, shaking his head as he walked past Damon. He needed to say this to everyone, because it wasn’t just his older brother that was acting like he was completely innocent and wouldn’t dare cause harm, but all of Caroline’s former friends.

“I don’t know if all of you have realised this, but pray tell me how it’s Caroline who always gets thrown aside because she fell for somone who actually chose her for once. Is it because all of you have promised to make her feel so guilty for everything she does?”

“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” Elena spoke up with disbelief, approaching the vampire with shallow steps. “She betrayed us! She fell for a monster who killed-”

“Yeah, because you’re so innocent” Stefan scoffed “Damon’s killed more people than I have, and yet nobody pushed you to the side when you’ve been with us both.”

The raven haired vampire’s amused look was gone as if it were never there, hostility quickly replacing his features.

“That’s different!” Elena hissed, rage filling her by the second “The pair of you aren’t like that anymore. Your jealous that i broke up with you, and that’s why you’re trying to hurt me”

“Oh spare me. You’re the last thing on my mind these days,” Stefan shot back venomously “And what’s your excuse for someone known as Kol Mikaelson? Because last time I checked, he’s still a cold-hearted murderer-”

Damon flashed towards his brother in an instant, cutting him off. His eyes were a deadly calm as the bore into Stefan’s.

“I wouldn’t say another word, brother.”

Elena looked at a loss for words, silent anger was the only thing she could feel at that name. Stefan wasn’t finished with what else he had to say, either. He wanted the whole group to know just what they had done to Caroline Forbes for the time they’d known her, but as soon as he could get out another word, the door suddenly flew open.

Everyone’s widened eyes were on Rebekah Mikaelson as she walked into the angst driven living room. She was slightly bloody looking over the group with seriousness. She only saw incredulous stares, her being the last person anyone thought they’d see tonight.

“We have a problem.”

————

Klaus Mikaelson’s rage echoed through the mansion as he threw an empty glass on the far side of the wall, screaming.

“I will hunt him down to his bloody death,” Klaus seethed as his rage went to other limits “I want him in a coffin if he dares touch her!”

Kol Mikaelson didn’t look fazed as he saw his this take place. He expected him to be like this, but it didn’t mean dread didn’t fill him up. Klaus would unleash hell on earth if something dared happen to Caroline Forbes, and Kol happened to like earth the way it was. It was why he was so adamant on keeping Katherine alive, to avoid such events from ever occurring.

“Let’s not be rash, brother” He approached the rageful hybrid slowly, making sure not to rile him up any further. “We don’t know if Elijah has gone to kill the girl for sure.”

“Oh, pray tell me Kol,” Klaus hissed venomously “Where would our brother possibly go the minute he heard Katerina was nothing but a pile of bones?”

“Her friends won’t possibly let him kill her-”

“Her incessant friends don’t care for her,” Klaus growled as he cut him off, fangs lengthening by the second as his strong emotions overtook him.

He was a fool for ever leaving her, thinking it was for her betterment. He should’ve taken her with him, and she would’ve came as well. She gave him a chance, and he betrayed her in the cruelest of ways. His heart clenched as he recalled her utterly broken voice that poured her soul to him over a phone call, when he should’ve been there in person.

You promised. You promised you’d be here.

No, Klaus Mikaelson didn’t deserve Caroline Forbes. He didn’t deserve to be her last love. But damn him if anything harmed his light.

Before Kol could stop him, the ruthless Hybrid had already flashed away to save his Caroline’s fate. He would kill everyone and everything that stood in his way of getting to her, and if he had to to desiccate his brother to ensure that she was still breathing, he wouldn’t think twice about the ordeal.

————

Caroline was on her way to sweet freedom when her phone started buzzing halfway through the journey. She rolled her eyes, carelessly throwing the ringing thing in the backseat. Whoever it may be, they would only stand in her way. She just couldn’t have that now, could she?

Her hand was occupied with a blood bag while the other was on the steering wheel, effortlessly guiding the car through the streets of a small town she’d came into on her way. She slyly smirked to herself. There was no reason she shouldn’t get a head start. Caroline felt her throat tighten with starvation for that red ecstasy straight from the vein, feasting her eyes upon the walking flesh and blood that crowded the pavements.

She impatiently got out of the car, slamming the door behind as she stiffly began walking in efforts to find somewhere witnesses won’t be present. It was a dreary little place, reminding her too much of her former home. Whatever, she would just drain the life out of a poor, unexpecting human and be done with it. It would suppress her urges for the rest of the way.

Caroline’s eyes suddenly caught a boy, walking down an abandoned alley as calmy as ever. He only looked thirteen. She didn’t care. She just wanted blood, and blood is what she’ll get no matter who it came from.

Bloodlust surged through her now, snapping into focus as quickly as ever as she flashed towards the boy. The poor soul looked up quickly, innocence protruding from his expression as his eyes bore into Caroline’s darkening one’s questioningly. She didn’t say a word as she felt the familiar feeling of fangs growing from her incisors.

The boy slightly parted his mouth to as if he was about to say something, or to scream. She didn’t know, because she instantly plunged her deadly weapons into his neck before he could dare draw attention. Holding her hand tightly across his mouth, she drank greedily. Her body felt alive and euphoric, the feeling all vampire’s fought to chase.

Her victim slowly stopped the muffled sounds of violent protest and pain, falling limp as death neared. Caroline sickeningly revelled in the heart barely pumping blood now, drinking until it was all gone, and so was he. Dropping the corpse on the ground carelessly, just like she did with her first victim, the vampire was far from feeling remorse. All she felt, and all she wanted to feel, was the thrill of the hunt rushing through her every nerve.

Leaving the corpse where it was, Caroline wiped her mouth with her sleeve in order to not cause attention to herself. Sure, the mangled body was a factor, but she’d be long gone before it was found. She quickly made her way to the car, getting in the drivers seat as she started the engine. The car hummed as it drove away from where she’d committed a murder that was hopefully first of many.

A twisted, sadistic smile appears on Caroline’s face as she drove. See, she knew that this was the point of no return. She finally let her true self out to play, and after pushing it deep inside the darkest crevices of her mind, finally letting it fully consume her whole being felt like power.

She loved it.

——————

masterlist

[littlemisssquiggles]

I was watching Phoenix/Night’s chapter 11 review video, he had ideas of what’d happened to Oscar. One of them was that maybe he was able to get away from Neo and try to run away from her but he wasn’t fast enough to get away and somehow got captured by her. I assume that Neo took him to the Vault of the Relic of Creation where I assume the Oscar vs Neo fight is gonna happen. I believe it’s gonna parallel the Raven vs Cinder fight in V5, a fight for the two relics. What do you think about that?

Hey Chels. Hmm…I’m not sure about the vault part, fam.

Even if Neo managed to take Oscarhostage, why would she take him down to the Vault of the Winter Maiden? As faras the audience is aware of, Neo (and by extension Cinder) doesn’t know thewhereabouts of the Vault within Atlas Academy. Nor is she aware that Oscarknows about it either. While I agree with the part about a potential fight downin the Vault, I doubt it’ll be between Oscar and Neo. For me, I’m moreexpecting Oscar and Ironwood to have a confrontation either down in the Vaultor on the way to the Vault. My assumption is that Ironwood went down to theVault and is probably waiting for Winter to join him down there once she’sclaimed Fria’s power. That way Winter would open the Vault for Ironwood so thathe could use the staff’s power to hoist Atlas Kingdom into the orbit; removingthe kingdom and its citizens from Remnant.

However, my presumption on whatmight really end up happening is one of the following few concepts--

Ironwood will be waiting down in theVault for Winter only for Cinder to show up instead to challenge him for theStaff. A fight then breaks out however Ironwood is unfortunately overpowered byCinder who had the strength of two Maidens on her side after successfullyclaiming Fria’s power for herself; confirming much to Ironwood’s despair thatWinter Schnee---his right hand and top operative---had been killed by one ofSalem’s very own. Cinder then goes to kill Ironwood but he’s saved from neardeath by Oscar and Ruby arriving down in the Vault. Oscar then instructs Rubyto take the injured Ironwood to safety while he tries and stop Cinder fromtaking the Staff. A fight then breaks out between Oscar and Cinder, rekindlingthe fateful rematch us Pineheads have been itching for.

The alternative to this is Ironwoodwaiting for Winter down in the Vault but Oscar shows up. Since the othersalerted him of the General’s intentions, Oscar attempts to talk some sense toJames but at this point he’s too far gone. He won’t listen to reason. He eventrains his gun on Oscar. But just as it appears as if the two were going toclash, Cinder arrives down in the Vault to claim the Relic.

As a third alternative, Ironwoodgoes down to the Vault to wait for Winter. But as he enters the vault he isbemused to discover a narcissistic Cinder Fall already waiting there for himwith the corpse of Winter Schnee in one hand and the remains of a dismantledPenny Polendina in another which she wickedly lays at Ironwood’s feet; as if togloat of her accomplishments. A fight ensues between the two. At this time,Ruby and Oscar arrive at the Vault in an attempt to stop Ironwood. But as thetwo Rosebuds arrive down the Vault they are met by Cinder who has alreadysucceeded in gaining the Relic of Creation. With the staff in her hand, thingsget a bit topsy-turvy as Atlas begins to fall out of the sky as a result of thestaff’s removal leading to Oscar and Ruby to fight gravity and a dual-powered MaidenCinder for the Staff as a means of stopping the collapse.

Those are just a few ideas I have. Eitherway, my headcanon remains that Oscar willbe the one to fight Cinder in the end. I have a feeling that V7 endgamecould parallel V3 with Oscar sending his allies away to safety while he staysbehind to prevent Cinder from claiming the Relic of Creation. This way I canimagine Oscar embodying both Ozpin and Pyrhha--ensuring that his friends---thepeople he cared for and whose lives he was more or less entrusted with---madeit out alive before moving forward to do whatever he could to stop Cinder; evenif it meant sacrificing his own life to stop her. The last time, a Wizard ofLight challenged Fall Maiden Cinder, they lost. The last time Oz stood up toCinder, she killed him and that was back when she only had one Maiden power.

Somehow I kinda like the concept of Oscar challenging Cinder and avenging Ozpinby being the one to put a stop to Cinder. I don’t know what the CRWBYWriters’ plans for Cinder are. But in the event that V7 is to be her final curtain call, I feel like it wouldbe fitting if Oscar was the one tofinally do so.

@moondrop04, I know I told you Ididn’t like the idea of Oscar sacrificing himself for his friends. However I’vehad more time to think about it and now I can actually picture it beingsomething Oscar would do as a testament to his bravery. This doesn’t mean thatI think Oscar will die though. Nah. If anything I expect Oscar to fight Cinderand survive. I like the idea of Oscar sacrificing himself to try and stopCinder just like Oz. Who knows? Perhaps,in a similar fashion to V3 with Pyrhha, Rubyends up going down to the Vault just in time to find Cinder about to kill Oscar. At first she suffersdifficulty to summon forth her Silver Eye power as a result of the fear Saleminstilled in her in regards to her mother’s death by her hands. It’s a momentwhere Ruby finds it impossible toclear her mind long enough to think of positive thoughts to protect everyone.So in that moment, Ruby does the just thing. She basically emulates the advicethat Other Dimension Peter Parker gave to Miles Morale about becoming a hero inSpiderman: Into the Spider-verse.

“…Youcan’t always just think about saving everyone. You have to think about saving atleast one person first.” 

Or something alongthose lines since I’m paraphrasing here. Sobasically that’s what Ruby does. She thinksabout Oscar; how much he’s proven to care about her and their team sincethey met and the way he made her feel. Because in that moment, Ruby wasn'ttrying to save everyone. All she wanted to accomplish in that moment was protectingOscar. Because in that moment, saving him was all that mattered and she was notabout to let Cinder Fall kill another friend she loved ever again.

Soin a nutshell, Ruby is able to summon her Silver Eyes at full blast which issuper effective again Cinder who shrinks back from being exposed to the light.As Cinder lunges for Ruby, she is finished by Oscar who lands the final killingblow. Imagine if… crystalized stalactites with the the Vault. Perhaps Oscar could use the magic of the Long Memory to cause oneof the stalactites to fall on top of Cinder, crushing her before she could getto Ruby.

Notsure how to feel about Oscar killing someone, even if it is a villain. I don’twish for a repeat of what transpired with Bumblebee last season with AdamTaurus now with the RosegardeningRosebuds. I’m not even sure if Cinder will actually be killed off. I’mstill waiting to see what the PLOT does with her especially since we’resupposed to learn more about her backstory at some point for this arc trilogy.Regardless, still wanted to toss the idea on the table.

As I said to @daggerpawstudios inanother, I’m starting to like the idea of Oscar trying to get away from Neo. Soin that regard, I agree with Phoenix/Night. However where I deviate is that Ilike the idea of Oscar not being kidnapped at all. My headcanon is that Oscarsuccessfully escaped Neo’s attempt at taking the Relic off of him and iscurrently somewhere else on Atlas premises trying to get as far away from Neoas possibly. However V6 highlighted Neo being able to mask objects with hersemblance (as she did with Mistral airship), my idea is that currently Neo haspoor Oscar trapped in an illusion where he’s been attempting to find an exithowever Neo has disguised all the exits as dead ends, making Oscar think he wastrapped with no way out and with no way of getting in contact with his comradessince Ironwood locked off communication within the hero group.

I like this concept since it’s aninteresting way to show off Neo’s cunningness as a villain while additionallytesting Oscar’s resolve. I dig the idea of Neo messing with Oscar psychologicallythrough her illusions, making him believe he was all alone trapped in a maze ofher creation with no way of finding his friends. 

What’s more terrifying is thatNeo could also disguise herself as any of Oscar’s female allies, inclusive ofRuby. Oscar wouldn’t know where to turn and who to trust since, in Neo’sillusion, he wouldn’t know what’s fake from reality.

It’s cool since it provides an opendoor for Oz to return and guide Oscar in the same manner as he did back inArgus. Not to mention that it also provides an opportunity for Ren to debut hisevolved semblance. 

Imagine if…JNR hasbeen trying to find Oscar too but Neo’s illusion winds up confusing them aswell and keeping them from reaching Oscar until Ren reveals a new ability thathe’d been developing all season where he can possibly locate Oscar’swhereabouts by locking onto his emotions specifically. 

I really do that have afeeling that Ren might play a role in finding Oscar; especially in the eventthat he’s stuck inside an illusion that’s keeping him trapped inside and anyoneelse trying to find him outside. 

I like this concept a lot and I think I’llkeep that as my main hunch for RWBY V7CH12 until the episode debuts.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 36

“Okay. So he should fit now.” Said Dustin as he chucked another shelfload of food onto the Byers kitchen floor.

Him and Steve had been trying to fit the dead Demodog into the refrigerator for the better part of half an hour, failing more miserably with each consecutive attempt.

The whole process was as you’d imagine, pretty disgusting, with the rapidly heating cold blooded creature smelling worse by the minute.

“Can you guys hurry up. You’re making the place stink.” I complained, covering my nose from the stench as I sat myself on the edge of the countertop.

“You know; this would go a lot faster if you actually helped.” Steve commented, struggling with holding onto the blanket wrapped corpse in his arms.

“Oh no! I wanted to bury it in the backyard; you two were the idiots who thought it would be nice to keep it as a souvenir.” I refused point blank, because I drew the line at acting as body disposal for the whims of thirteen year olds.

Steve wisely gave up on petitioning for my help, and instead focused his efforts on manhandling the thing into the icebox, Dustin offering minimal help with the ordeal.

“Is this really necessary?” Steve asked the kid; his nose wrinkling in disgust at the close quarters to the decomposing monster.

“This is a significant scientific discovery. You can’t just bury it like some common mammal.” The kid argued, attempting to wrestle one of the creature’s claws into the small space.

“Alright; well, you’re explaining this to Mrs Byers.” Steve conceded, finally managing to get the damn thing to fit.

He slammed the fridge door shut; him and Dustin working together to hold it closed in case it tried to burst open from the force.

Lucky for them, it didn’t.

With the dead Demodog bagged and tagged for later analysis, Steve and Dustin sank down against the icebox, resting their backs against it as they sighed in relief that they didn’t have to deal with that god awful smell anymore.

——————————————————

We’d only been waiting for about half an hour, but Jesus Christ; did it feel like longer. Time ticked by like a snail on molasses, and I found myself glancing at the clock only to be convinced it was broken.

I knew being left behind wasn’t gonna feel like no picnic, but I honestly didn’t expect to feel so bored!

“Mike; would you please just stop it already? You’re making it worse.” Complained Lucas to perhaps the only person who was even more tense than I was as he paced up and down the hall in a display that was so frenzied; I couldn’t help but imagine my dad.

“You weren’t in there; okay Lucas?! The lab was swarming with hundreds of those dogs—“ Berated Mike with all the consternation of a worked up parent.

“Demodogs!” Corrected Dustin from the kitchen, cueing a well timed eye roll from Lucas.

“The Chief will take care of her...” Stated Lucas; his faith in my father almost touching.

Of course; I knew better. But I wasn’t about to say that out loud.

“Like she needs protection!” Exclaimed Max; her apparent awe of my little sister still not wearing off.

“Dude- if the coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it—“ Steve agreed, sounding the most like a jock I think he ever had in his life.

“Okay, first of all; this isn’t a stupid sports game, and second, we’re not even in the game; we’re benched...” Mike argued; his rationale making far more sense to me than it probably should.

“I mean; Lola, aren’t you at least a little bit worried about your dad?” He asked; clearly sensing my sympathy to his cause and honing in on it.

“Well; yeah, but it isn’t like there’s anything I can do from here—“ I shrugged, my arms crossed across my chest, because as much as I hated to admit it; I was as useless as anyone else here at the moment.

“The point is...” Steve interrupted, only to lose track of what his fucking point is in the first place.

“The point is... right; we’re benched, yeah?” He finally found his train of thought, nodding at me as if I was somehow in support of his analogy.

“There’s nothing we can do.” He stated; clearly expecting that would be the final word on it.

“Well.... that’s not strictly true...” Corrected Dustin, forcing all eyes to fall upon him.

The boy had a plan. I could already see it on his smarmy face, and now we were gonna hear it.

“I mean; the demodogs have a hive mind. They ran from the bus because they were called away...” He explained; his rationally reminding me of his status as a child genius, rather than the annoying thirteen year old I’d had to put up with for the past five hours.

“So if we get their attention—“ Continued Lucas, already picking up on his train of thought.

“Maybe we can draw their attention away from the lab—“ Added Max; already proving how she earned her place amongst a gang of ultra intelligent preteen boys and a super powered girl.

“And clear a path to the Gate.” Finished Mike; the simplicity of the plan almost beautiful when said out loud.

“That’s— actually not a half bad plan.” I admitted, trying and failing to find a hole in their logic.

“Yeah — except you forgot the part where we all die!” Exclaimed Steve; clearly not on the same page as the rest of us at all.

“Well, that’s one point of view...” Shrugged Dustin, looking disturbingly casual about the conclusion.

“No; that’s not a point of view. That’s a fact.” Objected Steve; clearly having chosen his hill to stand on.

But the kids weren’t going to listen. They’d already begun putting their little heads together, hurrying over the primitive map drawn out across the Byers’ walls.

“This is where The Chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnels...” Stated Mike, already pointing at a large cross drawn onto the map.

“And look; right here...” He continued, dragging his finger along a tunnel to a large chamber of some sort.

“This is like... a hub. See how all the tunnels feed into it?” He asked, cueing a series of nods from all the kids.

“So maybe if we set this on fire—“

“Okay— yeah; that’s a NO!” Objected Steve, standing as a barricade at every step of the way.

“The Mind Flayer would call away his army...” Theorised Dustin; not put off by Steve in the slightest.

“They’d all come to stop us...” Continued Lucas, and already I could sense this plan coming together.

“And we’d circle back to the exit here.” Mike further explained; clearly having quite the head for battle strategy.

My dad would be proud. Angry, but proud.

“By the time they realised we were gone—“

“El and my dad would already be at The Gate.” I finished; seriously impressed with this kid’s planning.

“Guys!! HEY!! HEY!!” Yelled Steve; outraged and frustrated with the clear lack of concern we had for our own safety.

“This—“ Steve lectured, pointing at the map angrily.

“This is not happening.”

“And I can’t believe you’d even consider this!” Steve turned to me; a strange blend of accusation and disappointment in his voice that I wasn’t used to hearing.

“Come on, Steve—“ I whined, hoping I could win him over.

“No—“

“But—“

“No. No Buts!” He refused point blank; his adamant stance really surprising me.

“I promised to keep you shitheads safe and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He stated, turning his attention back to the kids just in case they decided to jump in on out little couple’s argument.

“And as for you...” He said; turning a sweeping finger back in my direction like a smoking gun.

“I told your dad I’d look after you, and I’m pretty sure if I don’t; he’ll wear my skin as a suit. So; just NO!”

“We’re sitting here, on the bench, and we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job.” Instructed Steve; returning to his coach persona with renewed dedication.

“Does everyone understand?”

“This isn’t a sports game—“ Muttered Mike under his breath; clearly not buying into the whole Coach Harrington thing.

“I said; does everyone understand?” He repeated himself; basically yelling now as if he could force his point across.

“Jesus; Steve—“ I sighed, rolling my eyes, because for a people person; Steve really needed to work on his inspirational speeches.

“I need a yes...” Steve demanded, but really; he had to stop with this.

“Steve; come on...” I said, walking up to him to take his arm and lead him away.

“No; I’m not done yet.” He argued, pulling back against me as he snatched his wrist from my grip.

“Come on; Steve. Let’s go talk.” I tried again, taking his arm, and this time he came without protest.

[melodiouswhite]

Classic literature vines compilation: crossovers pt. 02

A/N: The second part of the crossover compilation. :)

STRETCHING HABITS

Victor Frankenstein: *The Screamer*

Dr. Jekyll: *The Sexual Stretch*

Dr. Moreau: *The Tarzan*

Van Helsing: *The Exorcist*

Herbert West: *Death Metal*

Hyde: *struggling with his shoes*

Dorian Gray: *laughs* Can't tie your shoes?

Hyde: I can't tie my shoes, but I can fuck your bitch!

Van Helsing: And when we go in there, let's show Victor, that we're happy for him!

Dr. Moreau: But I'm not.

Dr. Jekyll: Well, then fake it.

Dr. Jekyll: Look at me, I could be grinding on the fact, that without my stabilising telescope mount, he never would have found that stupid, little clump of cosmic Schmutz.

Dr. Jekyll: But I'm bigger than that!

Dr. Moreau: … Fine. What do you want me to do?

Van Helsing: Smile!

Dr. Moreau: *smiles creepily*

Dr. Jekyll & Van Helsing: … O_O

Dr. Jekyll: Oh crap, that's terrifying. O_O

Van Helsing: We're here to see Victor graduate, not kill demonic entities. -_-

Dr. Jekyll: Try less teeth.

Dr. Moreau: *still smiles creepily*

Dr. Jekyll & Van Helsing: … O_O

Van Helsing: Close enough. Come on. -_-

Victor Frankenstein: I'm so angsty!

Dr. Jekyll, to Herbert West: Hold my champagne.

Dr. Jekyll: It was destiny, that we met! ;)

Herbert West: Did it hurt, when you fell from heaven? ;)

Victor Frankenstein: … *very fast* Do you want your mouth on my mouth? Darling. I'm out. >///< *runs off*

The other two: …

Griffin: At what point did you forget that WE'RE TRYING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!

Edward Hyde: Who gives a shit, GET THE FUCK A LIFE!!!                

Everyone else: *clapping in approval*

Dr. Jekyll: I'm not angry. Nooo! *laughs* You thought I was angry? Quite the contrary! I feel … splendid, I do! ^^

Dr. Jekyll: *knees Dr. Moreau to the chin* My knee hurts a little bit now, but that's okay. Because, I'm … I'm a gentleman! A gentleman never gets angry. ^^

Dr. Jekyll: A true gentleman keeps his calm cool. And he … he … he respects his environment …

*Victor Frankenstein appears and taps him on the shoulder*

Dr. Jekyll: And he is nice to people-FUCK YOU!!!

Victor Frankenstein: :(

Victor Frankenstein: I'm so troubled!

Dr. Jekyll: Hold my champagne.

Edward Hyde: Hah, joke's on you!

Dorian Gray: There is something on me?!

Edward Hyde: Uh, no, that's-

Dorian Gray, shrieking: GET OFF ME!!!

Edward Hyde: But-

Dorian Gray, hellish voice of hell: GET OFF ME OR I'LL KILL YOU!!!

Edward Hyde: …

Herbert West: Yo, what do you wanna eat?

Victor Frankenstein: What do I want to eat? How can I eat, when life is an illusion? An elaborate-

Herbert West: So, like pizza, or what?

Me: Story time! For some reason Victor Frankenstein and Dr. Henry Jekyll are fighting. Again.

Victor Frankenstein, proudly: I created an artificial human, when I was nineteen!

Dr. Jekyll, drily: Yes, by committing grave-robbery and using rotting flesh and then you wondered, why he didn't turn out the way you had imagined. Also, why does your creature have to be so tall?

Victor Frankenstein: It was easier to form him that way!

Dr. Jekyll: Then you must really suck at sculpting.

Victor Frankenstein: Excuse you?! Your creature is just as hideous as mine!

Frankenstein's Creature, thinking: Why am I still here …

Dr. Jekyll: *glares* First off, don't call him hideous! He may look creepy, but he's not ugly! Except for being very small and pale, but that's not the point! He gives off the impression of being ugly, that's a difference!

Dr. Jekyll: Secondly, he's my alter ago and my other half. The only one who's allowed to call him a creature is me!

Victor Frankenstein: You were already an old man, when you created him!

Dr. Jekyll: Yes, I spent decades of scientific work, research and theorising! You just decided to reanimate a corpse out on a limb, like the immature teenager you are. And when you succeeded, you ran away. Like a coward, leaving him to his own devices.

Frankenstein's Creature: First trauma of my life.

Victor Frankenstein: *gasps*

Dr. Jekyll: Yes, I just went there!

Victor Frankenstein: Well … you're also a coward! As soon as your alter ego What's-his-name caused trouble and got into shit, you claimed that none of this was your fault!

Dr. Jekyll: That's true, I admit it. One of us has to be the adult in this argument after all. Still, your creature killed almost your entire family and your best friend and you did nothing to stop him. Hyde killed one man.

Victor Frankenstein: Fuck you, old man! At least I don't have a split personality! Your alter ego is a psycho!

*Suddenly Edward Hyde appears visibly in a nearby mirror*

Dr. Jekyll, noticing his alter ego: Why don't you say that to his face, Victor?

Edward Hyde: No thanks, I heard everything. I just showed up, because I have to tell Frankenjerk a thing or two.

Edward Hyde: Alright, kiddo, first off: leave Henry alone. Because if you make him upset, I will take control and tear you to pieces! The only one who's allowed to bug him is me! Also, don't try to be the smart one here: you're a college drop-out, he's an actual doctor and professor.

Edward Hyde: Secondly, I may be a freak of nature - I stand by that - but Jekyll is not, so shut the hell up. Also, even though we don't get along, he still treats me better than you treat your creature. At least I have a name, a place to stay, papers, a bank account and he lets me have fun once in a while. And he didn't immediately book it when he saw me, just because of my appearance!  He may be hypocritical, but he's not as superficial as you! You're an arsehole to your creature 24/7. You didn't even name him! But don't bother, Jekyll and I already did that for you. His name is Adam Frankenstein now.

Frankenstein's Creature: *nods* It's all true.

Victor Frankenstein: YOU DARE GIVE HIM MY NAME????

Frankenstein's Creature: *grins gleefully* Indeed.

Edward Hyde: Try to bloody stop me. He's your fucking son, so deal with it. Moving on.

Edward Hyde: Thirdly, Jekyll may be fifty, but he's still gorgeous. Unlike you. Seriously, how old are you? Twenty? And you look older than he is.

Dr. Jekyll: O///O

Victor Frankenstein: *gasps* Oh no, you didn't just-

Edward Hyde: *smirks* Yep, I just went there.

Victor Frankenstein: *stomps off angrily*

Dr. Jekyll, to Edward Hyde: *blushing* … Thank you.

Edward Hyde: Eh, it's nothing.

Dr. Jekyll: Why did you defend me?

Edward Hyde: Hey, you're still my creator and my other half! And that little shit certainly has no right to talk shit about you. If anyone does, it's me. It's my privilege and mine alone. Do you hear me?

Dr. Jekyll: Duly noted.

Frankenstein's Creature: Ahem!

Dr. Jekyll: *startled* Ah, I'm sorry. Do you want to come over for tea?

Frankenstein's Creature, surprised: Really?!

Dr. Jekyll: Sure. Well, unless you mind having Mr. West and Dr. Moreau for company.

Frankenstein's Creature: Of course not! Count me in. :)

Dr. Jekyll: Great, let's go! ^^

Victor Frankenstein: I got 'A's in both my tests last week.

Dr. Jekyll: That's great.

Victor Frankenstein: And I was productive today!

Dr. Jekyll: Awesome.

Victor Frankenstein: So this is happiness! O_O

Dr. Jekyll: … Ew.

Edward Hyde: Can we go yet?

Dorian Gray: Not yet! Gotta do make-up! ;)

Edward Hyde & Dracula: *groan*

*later, after Dorian styled them both up*

Dracula: Never mind, this was an amazing idea!

Edward Hyde: We look so good!

Herbert West: Today we're gonna show you how we keep this delicious pie we just made taste fresh. ;)

Victor Frankenstein: And how we're gonna do that? ;)

*later, after they gobbled up the pie*

Herbert West: Eat the whole thing at once.

Victor Frankenstein: *burps*

Griffin: This homework is impossible!

Victor Frankenstein: I already did it.

Everyone in class: ANSWERS?!?!?!

Victor Frankenstein: Uh-oh. O_O

Dr. Jekyll, the professor: Boy, you better run.

Victor Frankenstein: *runs from a mob that wants his homework*

Dr. Jekyll, the professor: No one is answering? I guess I'll just have to call on someone.

Victor Frankenstein: GET DOWN!!!

Everyone in class: *panics and goes down*

Dr. Jekyll: *points at Griffin* You.

Griffin: Uhm … 42?

Dr. Jekyll: WRONG!

Griffin: x_x

Herbert West: THEY GOT GRIFFIN!

Victor Frankenstein: I bombed this test! :(

Herbert West: Yeah, we all did that, I got-

Victor Frankenstein: -Ninety-seven!

Everyone in class: *throws their paper away in frustration* 

Victor Frankenstein: I'm so bad at baking.

Dr. Jekyll: Recipes are step-by-step instructions.

Victor Frankenstein: Yeah?

Dr. Jekyll: So you're actually telling everyone you can't read. 

Dr. Jekyll, to the class: Alright, who's happy to be back?

Victor Frankenstein: Absolutely no one.

Dr. Jekyll: Me neither, let's get the heck out of here.

Everyone: *boarding the next train* YAAAYYYY!!!

Victor Frankenstein: *struggling to catch up* HEY, WAIT!!!

Dr. Moreau, sternly: Where is your project?

Herbert West: Uh, right … here!

Herbert West: *holds up a dog* PUPPY!

Dr. Moreau: *gasps* PUPPY!!!

Everyone in class: *squeals in delight*

Frankenstein's Creature to Edward Hyde: You ever thought about shaving your body or cutting your hair?

Edward Hyde: You ever thought about why your dad left you?

Frankenstein's Creature: …

Edward Hyde: Oh crap.

Frankenstein's Creature: *starts to cry*

Edward Hyde: I'm sorry!

[disregardcanon]

that one long ass rayllum fake marriage/ theon greyjoy style hostage au 

After the dragon king is killed and the dragon egg is killed (stolen), Xadia strikes each human kingdom one by one. They aren't seeking revenge, though, as much as insurance that this will not happen again. The humans will not act against Xadia in the foreseeable future after they do what they're planning to and they might be deterred from acting against them ever again. 

The dragon queen methodically travels the kingdoms, demanding a hostage from each monarch in exchange for not burning their cities to the ground. King Hawthorne of Del Bar refuses to give one of his sons up to the dragons, and the queen strikes him dead where he stands. The King's widowed husband, Rowan, decides to go to prevent the dragons from burning the city to the ground. Rowan’s oldest son, newly made King Florian, tries to talk him out of it, but he won't be swayed. Rowan, the Dowager King of Del Bar, will be the Xadians hostage to ensure the good behavior of his kingdom. 

Then they take Queen Aanya of Duren's aunt, Queen Fareeda of Evenere's closest advisor, and King Ahling of Neolandia's younger sister. These hostages are sixty three, thirty five, fourth two, and twenty eight respectively. 

Word of the dragon queen's intentions and tactics spreads, and King Harrow decides that he will offer himself when she comes. 

The dragon queen does not accept, saying that she knows she would kill Harrow if he were to leave with her and it would spark another war. Then, Viren offers himself. Fareeda offered her best friend and closest advisor, why should he not qualify? The dragon queen refuses, stating she will not allow the dark mage who killed her people into her kingdom. 

There aren't many options left. It must be someone Harrow can prove his closeness too, and beyond his sons and Viren.... the only option is Amaya, who is currently on a mission. 

His sons, however, are not an option. Until Callum offers himself. Harrow tells him that he can't, tries to talk him out of it, tells him all about how vital his presence is and about his PLANS for Callum at Ezran's side, but Callum knows this is the only option. 

They can't offer their best general and they can't offer the heir to the throne. He is the only one who qualifies they can spare. It takes a lot of convincing, but eventually callum does. He talks Harrow into letting him go to save the kingdom. Harrow writes Callum some letters to open when he's feeling homesick, and helps him pack and embraces him deeply. He apologizes for not being more affectionate, for never openly loving him openly the way that he should have. He calls Callum his son and tells him that he will get him back someday, somehow. They will bring Callum home. 

Callum nods, and he cries, and he hugs. He does not believe his father, but he lets Harrow believe that he wants. 

The group crosses into Xadia over the moonshadow path, and then they travel the land for what seems like months until they reach the palace of the thunder dragons. 

When they arrive, the hostages are all given the chambers of one dragon royalty share. They're enormous, big enough that the five humans don't have to act like roommates if they don't want to. They don’t. Sadly, they don't seem to cling together for warmth the way Callum'd hoped. They're the only five humans in the whole continent, the only humans they have for company, but most of them don't seem to want to be around each other because they're different ages and from different countries. 

He misses Katolis. Xadia is large and lonely and oh so different and he feels isolated and alone. He doesn't know their foods or their magic or their history or their culture. He just wants his dad and his brother and his castle and to smell the Katolis air and joke with Claudia and lose at sword fighting with Soren and celebrate their holidays and do human things and be home, warm and cozy with a book in his room. 

He doesn't get that, but at least the hostages are given semi free rein of the castle. Semi. They're each given a bodyguard for "their own safety". Mainly it's to make sure they don't escape. In the mind of the dragon queen, the ax over their heads is the only thing keeping their countries from invading Xadia. Callum's guard is named Rayla. For a while, she hates him for being human. Then she hates him for being a prince. Then for being an idiot, then he thinks she warms up to him. 

He warms up to her, at least. Rayla is good company, better than any of the other human hostages, at least. They're all grown people, worried about grown people things. Sometimes he can get Rayla to dick around with him and just do dumb teenage stuff like silly games, or exploring, of talking about magic. He's really interested in magic. He's told he can't do it, not because he's a hostage and he can't do it, but because he's a human and he can't. The palace magician is adamant about that, even when he insists that Viren and Claudia do magic. He's seen it. 

"That is dark magic," the palace magician says, "it is an abomination. I will not hear anymore talk of that or I will tell the queen." Who will ban him from coming to see her and learn about magic and maybe even confine him to the human quarters. 

Great. Callum really should shut his mouth, but he's never been great at that. 

"But my friend Claudia does it," he says, "that can't be evil." Claudia isn't evil. He knows that. 

The magician tells him a story about a group of humans who crossed the border, intent on murdering a nobleman on the edge of the kingdom. 

"His poor wife was gutted. His daughter had to become queen as a child and grow up without a father." It reminds Callum of Queen Aanya, orphaned by a mission into Xadia. 

She tells Callum how they killed him in cold blood for their magic and then dragged parts of his corpse across the border. 

"Wait," Callum says, "that was my dad- that was- that saved Katolis!" That was what left Aanya an orphan and killed his mother. He says that she must be mistaken, they did that to save hundreds of thousands of people. They killed a monster. Right? Right?

"He wasn't a monster. No one was except you people. As you say in your half, the giant they killed for their own benefit was human too." He wasn't, but he had a wife, a kid. He had feelings. They killed a man in cold blood and drug his heart across the countryside to save their own skins. Suddenly Callum feels uncomfortable in his. 

"I'm sorry," he says. He still gets why his people did it, but he feels less certain about it. Was that right? He feels even sicker when he realizes that his mother's heroic sacrifice was over this. Now it's tainted. His memory of his mother is tainted and- Callum feels ill. 

Callum leaves the room, Rayla on his heels. He asks her to leave him alone, she demands that she can't- it's her job not to. 

If he's left alone, these people fear that he'll go on a killing spree just because. He thinks about all the times he admired Claudia's magic, thought I want to do that, and realizes they're not that far off. 

He decides that he wants to learn to wield the arcanum. 

Maybe that can be the bridge between humans and magic- learning to utilize it without harming anyone else. Maybe he can fix things. 

It takes a long time to convince the palace magician to teach him and then even longer to learn. The years pass, the Xadians allow the three hostages from countries that have never directly attacked them to go for peace treaties and assurances and promises that the dragon queen will burn their counties to the ground if they ever break them. 

That leaves Aanya's aunt and Callum. They keep to their own end of the chambers and don't talk much. Lady Aalexa is not quiet in her suspicion that Callum has turned traitor from spending too much time with Rayla and learning magic. He's not great or anything yet, but he can do primal magic. Humans aren't supposed to do able to do that but he can. 

He's not behaving the way a proper human should anymore, but he knows now that proper humans are not always right. Sometimes they kill people just to keep themselves warm and he won't do that. He refuses. 

He keeps learning, and he hangs out with Rayla, and when he's lonely he rereads his dad's letter or hugs the stuffed animal Ezran sent him with or clutches his mother's locket or writes his family letters they may never get to read. 

He's eighteen years old now. He's been in Xadia four years and he worries he'll never see home again. 

That worry increased tenfold when Katolis gives Xadia a reason to kill him. He hears the whispers before the queen calls him, hears the servants gossiping that the queen is finally going to kill the littlest human because his kingdom attacked the border. 

Then the queen calls him and he knows that his life will soon be forfeit. Most of the human kingdoms do their executions by beheading, but he thinks the dragon would breathe lightning in him until he died. He doesn't know if that would be worse or better.

"There's been a Katolan attack at the border," the queen says. Callum bites his lip to keep from screaming. Nothing he says can change this now. He could fight, but his magic is feeble compared to the queen. He could run, but he'd only get a few feet before she would strike him down. 

Better to die with dignity, then. Then it's an execution instead of her putting him down like a mangy dog. She starts reciting words that he knows will doom him, but he hears Rayla's voice cut through the court. 

"You can't kill him!" Rayla shouts at the queen. 

"Why not?" The queen asks in her booming voice. 

"We're uh. We're engaged!" Rayla chirps. Callum sends her a look. We are? He mouths. Go with it, she mouths back. 

"Why have I not heard of this?" The queen says, "if the boy were to marry into our kingdom, then we would not kill him. I do not execute citizens without just cause." 

Citizen. Rayla is suggesting he marry her and become a citizen? How- what- 

don’t you have to forswear your homeland to get citizenship other places? 

"We've been keepin' it secret," Rayla says in that accent of hers, "we didn' want anyone to know before we made it more official. We haven't even talked to families yet after all." The queen chuckles 

"You expect to speak to King Harrow about this?" 

"Well. My family. Can't exactly go waltzing into Katolis to ask King Harrow for son's hand." 

"Quite technically, King Harrow has no claim to Callum's hand at the moment. He gave him up to me. Therefore, his hand is mine to do with as I please." 

"You may have it, Rayla of the the moonshadow elves. After I have one more piece of him." 

"Wait, what?" Callum squeaks. 

"Your finger. I need something to show King Harrow I make good on my threats."  

"You want to- to cut off my finger?" Callum asks, feeling like the air is being sucked out of his lungs. He hasn't felt this scared since he got settled in Xadia. They're really going to cut off his finger. 

Somehow that's scarier than the execution. He doesn't know why, but it is. 

"We won't take the ring finger, I promise." 

"Could I maybe, um. Just send a toenail? Dad'll know it's serious if we send him a toenail." 

"Or it could be your head." 

"Nope!" Callum squeaks, "a finger is good! I can um, blend in better! If you take a pinky! Then I'll look more like an elf! Four fingers Callum!" He can't shut up and he feels the air in the room thinning and even though he can control the wind he can't make it go fast enough into his lungs. 

He wants his mom, but she's dead. He wants Rayla, but there's nothing she can do to save him right now. 

They take the pinky of his non dominant hand to send to his father. It hurts like hell and it bleeds like hell but he gets through it. He has nine fingers but he's still alive. Being alive gives him options. 

His options are marrying Rayla or dying. So yeah. He accepts. 

He and Rayla wed. Eighteen years old and thousands of miles away from home and wed to an elf girl who used to hold his chain. What would the rest of Katolis think of him now? 

Especially since one of the vows they made him read was "I renounce my allegiance to all lands but Xadia, all rulers but her rulers, all laws but her laws." 

They're just words. They burn like acid on his tongue, but they're just words. They keep him alive to say the right ones later to his king, his kingdom, his land and laws. He is Prince Callum of Katolis even while he is Callum et Rayla of the Moonshadow Elves. He will not ever give himself up no matter what words he says or who he gives his heart to. 

He has a little more freedom as Rayla's husband than as the queen's hostage.  

Rayla is a respected guard as well as a trained assassin, and now that guarding him isn't a full time job she gets to take on higher paying more respectable employment like guarding the queen's nobles. 

But now that guarding him isn't a full time job, he doesn't get to see her nearly as much. It kind of pisses him off. He marries the woman and then gets to see less of her. What's the deal with that? 

But at that point, they realize that they both realize how much they value their fine together and become more intentional about making and spending time for each other. Then, they decide that maybe, just maybe, they do like this being married thing. 

They consummate, and their marriage is real in all ways except for where Callum's allegiance lies. He might not have pledged himself to the dragon queen for real, but he pledged himself to Rayla and he will keep that promise. He loves her. That part is real. 

Another year passes. Callum is nineteen. It's been five years since he saw his father last. It won't be a day more. 

King Harrow shows up at the gates of the palace, an egg in his arms. 

"Is that-" 

"The egg of the dragon prince," the King says. His dad has something in his arms that could end the conflict and all Callum cared about is seeing him. 

"Dad!" Callum screeches. His dad explains how Ezran discovered the egg, how Viren held it for years, how Viren is sitting in a cell awaiting his return and justice as they speak. 

"I wish to trade the egg for my son and the other hostage." 

"You may have the Duren," the queen says, "but it is no longer my place to decide where your son goes." 

"What do you mean?" Harrow asks cautiously. The dragon queen inclines her head towards Callum. The gesture asks: explain? 

"This is Rayla," Callum says, "my wife." 

"Oh," his dad says, "that's... fantastic?" Callum sighs and pulls his dad and Rayla into their chambers to discuss. They tell him dad that it was necessary to save his life, that if Rayla didn't marry him it would have been his head they sent his father and not a finger. 

"Well, thank you for marrying him to save him. I'm sure that was a sacrifice." 

"I'm not that unattractive, dad. I look like mom-" 

"I just meant because you didn't love him. A farce marriage is always difficult to maintain. I appreciate the favor you've done him." They both turn scarlet. Harrow looks scared. 

"You fell in love, didn't you?" 

"Well" 

"Uh" 

"That's just my luck." They talk for hours about possible ways to solve this problem. 

"Summers in Xadia and the other four seasons in Katolis!"  

"One year there one year here?" 

"Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth" 

They suggest option until his dad suggests Callum come back to Katolis and return to Rayla in Xadia when he feels ready. 

The way he said it implied he would never be ready. And, no matter how much Callum loves Rayla, he doesn't know if he could force himself to return to Xadia if he goes home without her. Trying to make the trek back itself might just kill him as a single human. 

"Please, Rayla," he says, "come with me. Just for a while, at least. I need to go home." 

Xadia has been a prison to him, but he knows that the human kingdoms won't be much better for her. Until they can fix things, there won't be a land that's good for both of them. He supposes that they'll just have to make due with what they have. 

They go home to Katolis and he sees everyone he loves and finds out how much things change and stay the same. He introduces Rayla to mixed reviews, but he defends her at every turn. 

They travel the human kingdoms with Ezran, promoting peace and tranquility, and then they return to Xadia for a time, and decide to travel back and forth and try to hit every shrine to learn magic and see the world. It's more peaceful nowadays, partially due to them, partially due to Harrow and the dragon prince, and partially due to a dragon queen who backed out on her hostage policies. And also, of course, love and marriage. But like, that was kind of a given, right?

[standtoreason93]

The Bible: Reading the “Ordinary” Way

By Greg Koukl

I never like the question “Do you take the Bible literally?” It comes up with some frequency, and it deserves a response. But I think it’s an ambiguous—and, therefore, confusing—question, making it awkward to answer.

Clearly, even those with a high view of Scripture don’t take everythingliterally. Jesus is the “door,” but He’s not made of wood. We are the “branches,” but we’re not sprouting leaves.

On the other hand, we do take seriously accounts that others find fanciful and far-fetched: a man made from mud (Adam), loaves and fishes miraculously multiplied, vivified corpses rising from graves, etc.

A short “yes” or “no” response to the “Do you take the Bible literally?” question, then, would not be helpful. Neither answer gives the full picture. In fact, I think it’s the wrong question since frequently something else is driving the query.

Taking “Literally” Literally

Let’s start with a definition. According to the New Oxford American Dictionary, the word “literal” means “taking words in their usual or most basic sense without metaphor or allegory, free from exaggeration or distortion.” Why do people balk at this common-sense notion when it comes to the Bible or, more precisely, certain passages in the Bible?

Let’s face it, even non-Christians read the Bible in its “usual or most basic sense” most of the time on points that are not controversial. They readily take statements like “Love your neighbor as yourself” or “Remember the poor” at face value. When citing Jesus’ directive “Do not judge,” they’re not deterred by the challenge “You don’t take the Bible literally, do you?”

No, when critics agree with the point of a passage, they take the words in their ordinary and customary sense. They naturally understand that language works a certain way in everyday communication, and it never occurs to them to think otherwise.

Unless, of course, the details of the text trouble them for some reason.

What of the opening chapters of Genesis? Is this a straightforward account describing historical events the way they actually happened? Were Adam and Eve real people, the first human beings? Was Adam created from dirt? Did Eve really come from Adam’s rib? Did Jonah actually survive three days in the belly of a great fish? Did a virgin really have a baby? Such claims seem so fanciful to many people, it’s hard for them to take the statements at face value.

Other times, the critic simply does not like what he reads. He abandons the “literal” approach when he comes across something in the text that offends his own philosophical, theological, or moral sensibilities. Jesus the only way of salvation? No way. Homosexuality a sin? Please. A “loving” God sending anyone to the eternal torment of Hell? Not a chance.

Notice the objection to these teachings is not based on some ambiguity in the text that makes alternate interpretations plausible. The Scripture affirms these truths with the very same clarity as “Love your neighbor.” No, these verses simply offend. Suddenly, the critic becomes a skeptic and sniffs, “You don’t take the Bible literally, do you?”

This subtle double standard, I think, is usually at the heart of the taking-the-Bible-literally challenge. Sometimes the ruse is hard to unravel.

An example might be helpful here.

Literal vs. Lateral

In the Law of Moses, homosexual activity was punishable by death (Lev. 18:22 and 20:13). Therefore (the charge often goes), any Christian who takes the Bible literally must advocate the execution of homosexuals.

Of course, the strategy with this move is obvious: If we don’t promote executing homosexuals, we can’t legitimately condemn their behavior, since both details are in the Bible. If we don’t take the Bible literally in the first case, we shouldn’t in the second case, either. That’s being inconsistent.

How do we escape the horns of this dilemma? By using care and precision with our definitions, that’s how.

Here’s our first question: When Moses wrote the Law, did he expect the Jewish people to take those regulations literally? If you’re not sure how to answer, let me ask it another way. When an ordinance is passed in your local state (California, in my case), do you think the legislators intend its citizens to understand the words of the regulations “in their usual or most basic sense without metaphor or allegory, free from exaggeration or distortion”?

Of course they do. Legal codes are not written in figurative language allowing each citizen to get creative with the meaning. The same would be true for the Mosaic Law. Moses meant it the way he wrote it.

But now, it seems, we’re stuck on the other horn of the dilemma. To be consistent, shouldn’t we currently campaign for the death penalty for homosexuals? For that matter, aren’t we obliged to promote execution for disobedient children and Sabbath-breakers, both capital crimes under the Law?

The simple answer is no. Here’s why. Even when a biblical command is intended to be understood literally, that does not mean it is intended to be applied laterally, so to speak—that is, universally across the board to all peoples at all times in all places.

Consider this situation: Jesus told Peter to cast his net in deep water (Luke 5:4). That’s exactly what Peter did because he took Jesus’ command literally, in its ordinary sense. He had no reason to think otherwise. However, even though Jesus’ command to Peter was literal, that does not mean the same command applies laterally to everyone else. We’re not obligated to cast nets into deep water just because Peter was.

Here’s another way of looking at it. California legal codes are to be readliterally, but not applied laterally. They only apply to those in California and have no application to people in other states. Its laws have local, literal application within its own borders, but no lateral application elsewhere.

In the same way, the words of the Mosaic Law, like those of all laws, are to be taken at face value by anyone who reads them. Yet only those under its jurisdiction are obliged to obey its precepts.[i]

The Jews in the theocracy were expected to obey the legal code God gave them, including the prohibition of and punishment for homosexuality. It was not the legal code God gave to Gentiles, however. Therefore, even if the words of the Mosaic Law were to be taken literally by those under the jurisdiction of that code, this does not mean that in our current circumstances we are governed by the details of the provisions of that Law.

A clarification is necessary here. Am I saying that nothing written in the Mosaic Law is ever applicable to Christians or other Gentiles or that there are no universal moral obligations that humanity shares with the Jews of Moses’ time? No, I’m not saying that.

Though Moses gave legal statutes for Jews living in the Jewish state, that Law in some cases still reflects moral universals that have application for those outside the nation of Israel. As I have written elsewhere:

Perversion is still perverse, and wickedness is still wrong, whether it be adultery, rape, incest, or bestiality—or any of a number of evil acts all condemned by Moses in the “old” Law.[ii]

So yes, we can glean wisdom and moral guidance from the Law of Moses for our own legal codes, but there are limits. Working out those details is a different discussion, however. [iii]

The question here is not whether we take the Mosaic Law literally, but whether we are now under that legal code. We are not. That law was meant for Jews living under a theocracy defined by their unique covenant with God. Simply because a directive appears in the Mosaic Law does not, by that fact alone, make it obligatory for those living outside of Israel’s commonwealth.

Americans are a mixture of peoples in a representative republic governed by a different set of decrees than the Jews under Moses. We are not obliged to obey everything that came down from Sinai. Even though it was commanded of the Jews, that does not necessarily mean it is commanded of us. If anyone thinks otherwise, he is duty-bound to take his net and cast it into deep water.

That confusion aside, we’re still faced with our original question: When do we take the Bible literally?

Reading the “Ordinary” Way

Here’s how I would lay the groundwork for an answer. If I’m asked if I take the Bible literally, I would say I think that’s the wrong question. I’d say instead that I take the Bible in its ordinary sense; that is, I try to take the things recorded there with the precision it seems the writer intended.

I realize this reply might also be a bit ambiguous, but here, I think, that’s a strength. Hopefully, my comment will prompt a request for clarification. This is exactly what I want. I’d clarify by countering with a question: “Do you read the sports page literally?”

If I asked you this question, I think you’d pause because there is a sense in which everyone reads the sports page in a straightforward way. Certain factual information is part of every story in that section. However, you wouldn’t take everything written in a woodenly literal way that ignores the conventions of the craft.

“Literally?” you might respond. “That depends. If the writer seems to be stating a fact—like a score, a location, a player’s name, a description of the plays leading to a touchdown—then I’d take that as literal. If he seems to be using a figure of speech, then I’d read his statement that way, figuratively, not literally.”

Exactly. Sportswriters use a particular style to communicate the details of athletic contests clearly. They choose precise (and sometimes imaginative) words and phrases to convey a solid sense of the particulars in an entertaining way.

Sportswriters routinely use words like “annihilated,” “crushed,” “mangled,” “mutilated,” “stomped,” and “pounded,” yet no one speculates about literal meanings. Readers don’t scratch their heads wondering if cannibalism was involved when they read “the Los Angeles Angels devoured the Houston Astros.”

We recognize such constructions as figures of speech used to communicate in colorful ways events that actually (“literally”) took place. In fact, we never give those details a second thought because we understand how language works.

When a writer seems to be communicating facts in a straightforward fashion, we read them as such. When we encounter obvious figures of speech, we take them that way, too.

That’s the normal way to read the sports page. It’s also the normal—and responsible—way to read any work, including the Bible. Always ask, “What is this writer trying to communicate?” This is exactly what I’m after when I say, “I take the Bible in its ordinary sense.”

Of course, some people may differ on what point the text of the Bible is actually making. Fair enough. There’s nothing dishonest about honest disagreement. They might have reasons to think some Christian is mistaken on the meaning of the text. Misinterpretation is always possible. However, conjuring up some meaning that has little to do with the words the writer used is not a legitimate alternative.

If people disagree with the obvious sense of a passage, ask them for the reasons they think the text should be an exception to the otherwise sound “ordinary sense” rule. Their answer will tell you if their challenge is intellectually honest, or if they’re just trying to dismiss biblical claims they simply don’t like.

Two Thoughts on Metaphor

Reading any writing the ordinary way requires we understand two points about figurative speech, both implicit in the concept of metaphor.

The New Oxford American Dictionary defines metaphor as “a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable…a thing regarded as representative or symbolic of something else.” So, metaphors take one meaning of a word and then creatively leverage it into another meaning to make an impact on a reader.

Here is the first point to be clear on: All metaphors (or other forms of figurative writing) rely first on literal definitions before they can be of any use as figures of speech. All words must first be understood in their “usual or most basic sense” before they can be used figuratively.

We find, for example, the word “shepherd” prominently featured in the 23rd Psalm. Do you see that we must first understand the literal meaning of “shepherd” before the phrase “the Lord is my shepherd” has any figurative power?

This point is critical for accurate biblical interpretation. Here’s why.

Sometimes we attempt to solve interpretive problems by digging through a Bible dictionary. This can be a helpful place to start since all figurative language relies in some way on dictionary definitions. But the dictionary cannot be the final word because it can never tell you what use a specific writer is making of any particular word or phrase.

Strictly speaking, no word standing alone can be a metaphor. Words can only be used metaphorically when they’re embedded in a context. Therefore, it makes no sense to ask of a solitary word, “Is the word meant literally?” because the word standing on its own gives no indication.

Dictionaries, by definition, can only deal with words in isolation. Other things—context, genre, flow of thought, etc.—determine if the word’s literal sense is being applied in a non-literal way, symbolically “regarded as representative” of something else.

Take two sentences: “The sunshine streamed through my window,” and, “Sweetheart, you are a ray of sunshine to me this morning.” Sunshine’s literal meaning is the same in each case. However, it is used literally in the first sentence but metaphorically in the second. Further, unless my wife understands the literal meaning of “sunshine,” she will never understand the compliment I’m offering her in a poetic sort of way.

So first, literal definitions must be in place before a word can be used figuratively. Second, metaphors are always meant to clarify, not obscure.

There’s a sense in which figurative speech drives an author’s meaning home in ways that words taken in the ordinary way could never do. “All good allegory,” C.S. Lewis notes, “exists not to hide, but to reveal, to make the inner world more palpable by giving it an (imagined) concrete embodiment.”[iv]

Figurative speech communicates literal truth in a more precise and powerful way than ordinary language can on its own. The strictly literal comment “Honey, your presence makes me feel good today” doesn’t pack the punch that the “sunshine” figure provides. The metaphor makes my precise point more powerfully than “words in their usual or most basic sense” could accomplish.

Remember, even when metaphor is in play, some literal message is always intended. Hell may not have literal flames,[v] but the reality is at least as gruesome, ergo the figure.

Once again, it’s always right to ask, “What is the precise meaning the writer is trying to communicate with his colorful language?” But how do we do that? Here I have a suggestion.

The Most Important Thing

If there is one bit of wisdom, one rule of thumb, one useful tip I can offer to help you solve the riddle of scriptural meaning, it’s this: Never read a Bible verse. That’s right, never read a Bible verse. Instead, always read a paragraph—at least.

On the radio, I use this simple rule to help me answer the majority of Bible questions I’m asked, even when I’m not familiar with the particular passage. When I quickly survey the paragraph containing the verse in question, the larger context almost always provides the information I need to help me understand what’s going on.

This works because of a basic rule of all communication: Meaning flows from the top down, from the larger units to the smaller units. The key to the meaning of any verse comes from the paragraph, not just from the individual words.

Here’s how it works. First, get the big picture. Look at the broader context of the book. What type of writing is it? History? Poetry? Proverb? Letter? Different genres have different standards for reading them—obviously.

Next, stand back from the verse and look for breaks in the passage that identify major units of thought. Then ask yourself, “What in this paragraph or group of paragraphs gives any clue to the meaning of the verse in question? In general, what idea is being developed? What is the flow of thought?”

With the larger context now in view, you can narrow your focus and speculate on the meaning of the verse itself. When you come up with something that seems right, sum it up in your own words. Finally—and this step is critical—see if your paraphrase—your summary—makes sense when inserted in place of the verse in the passage.

I call this “the paraphrase principle.” Replace the text in question with your paraphrase and see if the passage still makes sense in light of the larger context. Is it intelligible when inserted back into the paragraph? Does it dovetail naturally with the bigger picture? If it doesn’t, you know you’re on the wrong track.

This technique will immediately weed out interpretations that are obviously erroneous. It’s not a foolproof positive test for accuracy since some faulty interpretations could still be coherent in the context. However, it is a reliable negative test, quickly eliminating alternatives that don’t fit the flow of thought.

If you will begin to do these two things—read the context carefully and apply the paraphrase principle—you will radically improve the accuracy of your interpretations. Remember, meaning always flows from the larger units to the smaller units. Without the bigger picture, you’ll likely be lost.

Don’t forget the rule: Never read a Bible verse. Always read a paragraph, at least, if you want to be confident you’re getting the right meaning of the verse.

Do I take the Bible literally? I try to take it at its plain meaning unless I have some good reason to do otherwise. This is the basic rule we apply to everything we read: novels, newspapers, periodicals, and poems. It’s reading the “ordinary” way. I don’t see why the Bible should be any different.

___________________________

[i] This principle is critical to understanding the role of Old Testament Law in New Testament times.

[ii] See Gregory Koukl and Alan Shlemon, “A Reformation the Church Doesn’t Need: Answering Revisionist Pro-Gay Theology—Part I,” available at str.org.

[iii] For the record, I think the immorality of homosexuality is one of those universal moral laws since, among other reasons, it’s identified in the New Testament as wrong irrespective of the Mosaic Law (e.g., Rom. 1:27).

[iv] C.S. Lewis, The Pilgrim’s Regress, “Afterword to Third Edition,” (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958), 208.

[v] In more than one instance, Jesus described Hell as “outer darkness” (e.g., Matt. 8:12) and literal flames give light.

[chaos-weekly]

Rain pounded on Libya’s abdomen. Well, it pounded around her and on her, but she mostly felt it on her abdomen, where her bandages had bled through from the gunshot wound that refused to heal. Probably because she hadn’t stayed still for more than a few hours in the last week and a half, but it wasn’t like she had the luxury of rest and recovery.

Footsteps approached, squelching in the muddy field. Liya lay on the dirt shoulder of the road. She was a few hours’ drive from Boston, out in the closest you could get to the middle of nowhere in Massachusetts. It wasn’t like New York where she could hitchhike upstate to the Finger Lakes area like she used to love doing.

No, Liya would never see her favorite place again. And no, Liya didn’t regret her decision. Her father had done the unspeakable—probably had been doing it for a while—and leaving was worth it. There was no guarantee she’d survive much longer. Her abdomen wasn’t her only injured body part. The other shot the soldier had taken had hit her upper arm, even if it only grazed. She couldn’t go to a hospital, not without having paperwork and insurance. Which she didn’t have, because Liya couldn’t use any of the aliases she got from her father or the Bratva.

Basically, Liya was stuck in Massachusetts on the muddy shoulder of the road in the torrential rain.

The footsteps had stopped, but they grew closer. Liya didn’t open her eyes. Maybe if she couldn’t see them they’d think she was dead, or maybe they wouldn’t see her at all.

A gentle nudge hit her side. The cry of pain and her now open eyes were involuntary. Liya found her attacker in the form of a handsome man with an appraising stare. He didn’t look pitying or concerned. Maybe intrigued?

“So you’re not dead,” the stranger said. He didn’t have a Boston accent. He sounded just distinctly neutral.

“No thanks to you,” Liya hissed, a hand gingerly coming to rest on her gunshot wound. She hissed again, sharper this time. Touching it was a bad idea.

“Hm.”

Liya closed her eyes again, but it didn’t last long. She could feel him staring at her.

“Are you going to leave?” She opened her eyes to stare him down from her place in the mud.

“You’re hard to track down, you know.”

Panic. That was what she felt. This guy was coming for her. He knew her dad. Papa wanted her dead. Or he at least wanted her back. Probably to sell her to someone else for revenge for leaving. Or to marry her off to some associate so he could strengthen the New York Bratva’s numbers. Or to forge an alliance. Either way, as sick as it was, Liya was glad she had found out her father’s dirty secret and left.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice shakier than she had willed it to be. So much for confidence.

“I don’t know yet.”

Something was up with this guy. Liya didn’t like him. He was following her, but he didn’t have a use for her. That wasn’t normal.

“Then why bother tracking me?” Liya snarled, but she was soon whimpering as the downpour grew stronger.

“You left the Bratva, Rozaliya. You’ve survived a week and a half already. You’re the Boss’ daughter. You have a price on your head.”

Now the whimper was from fear, not pain. Liya hated her weakness. She hated that she was losing strength. She hated herself.

“So you’re gonna sell me back? Claim the money?” Liya knew the figure paying for her return, preferably not too disfigured. It was a good seven figures. That type of money wasn’t offered by people like her father. Not for a missing person. Not for a traitor.

“No.”

Liya looked at him sharply, finally studying the stranger as best she could in the cold rain. He was tall and thin with a bad haircut and hooded eyes. If it hadn’t been for the stupid haircut, he might have been properly attractive.

“What do you want, then? Can’t you leave me here to die?” She looked skyward again, turning her face from him.

“I’m taking you with me, I’ve decided.” Before Liya could respond, the stranger had picked her up.

////

“Does she knows who you are?” Joe Bram asked in a stern, cold voice. As the leader of the Irish mob, he was a tall and strong man with a dark beard and chilled eyes. He intimidated most people, but Cerin found his own adoptive father—the second in command—to be more physically intimidating. Not that Cerin would ever tell Joe that.

“She knows I work with illegal organizations and that she has useful knowledge. She also knows we might be able to offer her protection.”

Joe didn’t look too happy with that answer. “She shouldn’t know anything. She’s Bratva! We can’t trust her.”

Cerin didn’t budge as Joe stepped closer. Again, Dad was freakier.

“She left because her father was involved with sex trafficking. She has secrets of the trade. You’ve been talking about getting more into weapons for years, Joe. Rozaliya is our in,” Cerin said calmly. It had taken quite a bit of wheedling to get her reason for leaving, and Cerin knew it would strengthen his argument.

“Get rid of her, Cerin,” Joe spat. Again, Cerin didn’t move, even if spittle had flown into his face.

“If we give her back, the Bratva will wonder what she told us. They’ll investigate or attack. If we kill her, they’ll attack. If we set her free and word gets out that we had her? They’ll attack us. Rozaliya is an investment, Joe, and she’ll be worthwhile for us.” Cerin knew bringing in the estranged Bratva Princess unauthorized was a frowned upon move, but he also knew it would be for the best. He was saving her life or whatever, but he was also opening doors for business and advancement. If he could get her to help them—and he would—then she could give them the insider tips and tricks on the weapons trade.

“She’s a needless risk,” Joe exclaimed, turning to Cerin’s father, Landon, in frustration.

“You’ve done too much, son,” Landon scolded. Cerin’s mood soured further. He knew his dad wouldn’t be happy, especially not after the Cleveland incident the month before, but he was trying to get back in their good graces! He needed to be back in their good graces if he as gonna maintain his power.

“Give her a chance,” Cerin pleaded, surprising himself. She reminded him of himself, which was probably why he was fighting for her so fiercely. That and he knew his idea was a good one. Mostly the latter.

“For what? To f—k us over?” Joe laughed caustically. Cerin’s lips thinned.

“To give us info. I’ll do the dirty work. I’ll take the risks. I’ll prove to you that she can be trusted, and you’ll thank me when she helps us more than anyone else.”

“And how do you plan on keeping her in line?” Landon challenged.

He smirked at his adoptive father. “Simple, I sell her back to her father if she’s any trouble. Explain that I found her and found her significance and turned her back in.”

Joe spun back on Cerin, but he spoke first. “Joe, we both know I can talk my way out of anything. I’ll bring her to her father myself if she isn’t useful. Trust me, she’ll talk.”

Landon hummed in thought. “He has a point, Joe. But where will you keep her?”

Cerin shrugged. “My apartment, probably. I have that guest room. I’ll lock my apartment and ensure she can’t get out.”

Joe threw his hands up, ever the expressive one. “Fine. Keep her. Whatever happens is on your head. I don’t care who you’re related to or how helpful you are, Cerin. I will not hesitate in killing you myself.”

Cerin didn’t flinch. “Noted.” He nodded to his father and Joe, and then Cerin left to go find Liya (who he had kept locked in his car). She still needed medical help. Maybe Adam could help with that instead of just autopsies on corpses.

[scalira]

Don’t kiss me, I’m sick

Pairing: Stenbrough, Reddie (background), Ben/Mike if you squint Words: 3700 Read on ao3

Stanley Uris wouldn’t necessarily call himself dramatic, though basically all his friends would have to disagree.

Richie’s favorite way to describe him is Stan the Drama Man, closely followed by King of being Dramatic and Dramatiqué (Richie refers to that one as Stan’s possible drag name). Most of the others agree with Richie, except Bill. He might secretly think Stan is a big ol’ drama queen, but if he does, he doesn’t show it.

So, when Stan gets a mild sore throat and immediately cancels all his plans on Halloween just in case he’s coming down with throat cancer, Bill is the only one who doesn’t roll his eyes at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Bill asks him on his doorstep, the other losers waiting impatiently behind him. Stan glances over Bill’s shoulder, noticing how Richie is provoking Eddie and Eddie being seconds away from hitting him on the head with his lightsaber.

“I’m sure,” he assures Bill. “You should really get going now, before Eddie murders Richie and puts his corpse in someone’s front yard as a Halloween decoration.”

Bill turns around and groans, almost like an annoyed dad would. It brings a little smile to Stan’s lips.

“Okay. I promise we won’t have too much fun without you,” he says once he’s turned back around to look at Stan.

Stan rolls his eyes.

“Sure you won’t.”

Bill offers him a bright smile and taps his fingers against Stan’s, something they’ve been doing since kindergarten. Stan repeats the action before taking a step back into his warm house.

“Seriously, go,” he insists. “Don’t let Richie drink too much alcohol.”

“Why do you ruin good things?” Richie shouts from Stan’s front lawn. Stan flips him off.

“Get off my property, asshole!” He yells at him. Richie lifts his hands to form a little heart in response.

Bill sighs deeply and walks towards Richie, taking him by the arm to drag him away. The sight of Bill dressed as the Terminator pulling Richie, dressed as princess Leia, away from his house is almost enough to instantly make Stan feel better.

He watches his friends mount their bikes and then closes the door, making his way to the living room to bury himself in a mountain of blankets and drown himself in a shit load of tea.

***

The party is… well, it’s a party.

Josh’s house is already packed when the losers arrive. There are girls dancing on the dinner table, costumes so short Bill catches glimpses of their buttcheeks whenever they roll their hips. More people are dancing and talking in the living room, passing cigarettes back and forth and sipping from red solo cups. The entire house smells like a mixture of cigarettes, weed, stale beer and sweat.

“This is gonna be so much fun ,” Eddie deadpans, bending his body away from a drunk girl trying to cling onto him. Richie wordlessly pushes her away and gives her a stern look.

“Come on, Eddie Spaghetti. Lighten up a bit, will you?” He asks once the girl is out of their orbit.

“Don’t call me that.”

Richie grins at him and throws an arm around his shoulders. Eddie would’ve shaken it off if it were anyone else, including any of the losers, but with Richie he just gives him a mild shove.

“Anyone want a drink?” Ben offers. He and Mike are already making their way to the kitchen.

“Bring me a beer, Benny boy,” Richie says. Eddie asks for some soda and Bill declines the offer all together.

They push their way to a less crowded area in the living room and plop onto the couch, sitting so closely together they’re touching from shoulder to ankle. Eddie has to partly sit on Richie’s lap, which he pretends to hate while Richie takes the opportunity to wrap both his arms around Eddie’s waist and pull him closer. Bill is positioned between Bev and Richie, briefly thinking about how uncomfortable Stan would be sitting like this. Bill’s mind flashes back to any of their sleepovers, where Stan would only ever curl up against Bill’s side.

“I’m gonna try to get laid tonight,” Beverly announces.

“Oh, trying to find the John Bender to your Claire Standish?” Richie replies, referring to Beverly’s costume.

“You know damn well I don’t swing that way,” Bev says, slightly offended.

“Do you know any girls who swing your way?” Bill asks.

“A couple. There are more lesbians out there than you think, Billothy.”

“That sounds so ominous,” Eddie says.

Richie puts on a reporter voice, “ten more girls have gone missing during the lesbian frenzy. We beg everyone to stay inside and for the love of god, do not engage. There are more lesbians out there than any of us think.”

“A lesbian frenzy is the only way I wanna leave this world,” Beverly says.

“I wanna leave this world during a zombie apocalypse,” Richie says.

“ Why?” Eddie asks, appalled. “That sounds disgusting.”

Richie pulls Eddie even closer to him and bites his neck. Eddie squirms, but not enough to free himself.

“What’s disgusting about cool zombies biting the flesh off your neck?” Richie wonders, sounding genuinely surprised.

Eddie elbows him in the ribs, finally jumping off Richie’s lap.

“Everything! You’re so weird, Richie.”

Richie grins and stands too, taking Eddie’s hand.

“Thanks. Come on, Mike and Ben seem to have lost their way back, let's go find them.”

Bev and Bill watch them go, and then Beverly sinks further into the couch.

“They’re definitely sneaking away to go make out,” she states.

Bill chuckles and leans back into the couch too.

“Probably,” he says. Those two act as if nobody knows they’re totally into each other, but they’re so obvious about it. “Ben and Mike too, let’s be real.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Beverly laughs. “‘Getting drinks’, yeah, right.”

She sighs and puts her head on Bill’s shoulder. “What about you, babe?”

“What about me, darling?”

Beverly pokes him in the ribs.

“You know what I mean, Denbrough. Why are you here when you could be taking care of your sick loverboy?”

Bill hates how he can feel his cheeks flush.

“He’s not my loverboy.”

“ Yet,” Bev adds.

“No, period, Beverly. We’re not together.”

“ Yet!”

“Beverly, I swear to God if you say ‘yet’ one more time -”

Beverly laughs and nudges Bill with her shoulder. “Fine, Mr. Grumpy pants. But you know what I mean. You have a massive crush on him. And taking care of him when he isn't feeling well would be the perfect opportunity to swoop him off his feet, and yet you’re at this lame Halloween party.”

“Who says Stan wants me around when he’s sick? You know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” Bev nods, “our residential drama king. But he never complains about your presence like he does about ours when he isn’t feeling well.”

“I guess,” Bill shrugs.

“Oh my god, are you actually that blind?”

Beverly groans. She gets up and jabs a finger in Bill’s direction, putting on her Mom Frown. “I’m really gonna have to spell this out for you, don't I? You’re the only one Stan can stand to be around when he’s sick. He has never cuddled up to any of us the way he cuddles up to you on movie nights. Mr. Uris is currently sick and home alone, and the only person he enjoys spending time with when he gets like that is you. So fucking go over to his place, take care of him, make him some fucking soup or whatever and live happily ever after.”

Bill thinks about it for a second. What’s the worst that could happen? Even if he doesn't come clean about his feelings, they could still just hang out together. Alone. Watch some movies, share a blanket… Honestly, even just the prospect of cuddling with Stan sounds double as appealing as staying at this party.

“Don’t let Richie eat too much candy. He gets so hyper he doesn't sleep all night,” he tells Beverly as he gets up. Bev grins and gives him a high five.

“No problem, captain! I’ll look after him like he’s my son.”

Bill nods and says goodbye, craning his neck to look for the others. When he can’t find them, he just makes his way back to the front door.

***

The last thing Stan is expecting when he answers the door is Bill Denbrough in full Terminator costume, holding a pizza in his hands and wearing the Derry Pizza Delivery hat.

“Hi,” he greets, as if this isn't the weirdest thing Stan has seen all night.

“Uh, hi,” Stan replies. “What are you doing here? And why are you holding a pizza?”

“I caught up with the delivery boy on his way here and paid for the pizza so I could bring it to you.”

Stan leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't miss the way Bill’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows.

“What if I wanted to see the delivery boy?” He asks. “He’s cute.”

Bill’s cheeks flush. Stan has to bite his lip in order not to smile.

“N-not as cute as m-me, though,” Bill tries. His stutter betrays how nervous he suddenly is. It always does.

Stan takes his sweet time moving his eyes over Bill’s body, as if he doesn't already check him out whenever he’s not looking. He has to admit the all-black outfit looks really good on him.

“I suppose,” he eventually says, when his eyes reach Bill’s now bright red face. Then he takes a step back and gestures inside. “Come on, then. I’m hungry.”

Bill grins and steps inside, his arm brushing against Stan’s chest as he passes him. Stan’s heart clenches painfully at the contact, but he ignores it. Not now .

“So,” Bill says once he’s in the living room, “why order pizza when you’re sick? Shouldn't you be eating soup or something?”

Stan makes a face and takes the pizza from Bill.

“You know I don't like soup.”

Bill rolls his eyes.

“Right,” he says, taking the box back from Stan to put it on the coffee table. “You think it’s unnatural.”

“Food is supposed to be chewed!”

Bill shakes his head and laughs lightly.

“You’re ridiculous, Stan.”

Stan nudges him. “Shut up, dick.”

“Okay, fine. Let's just eat your greasy pizza and watch bad horror movies on TV.”

“That’s the best thing you’ve said all night,” Stan grins. He pulls Bill down onto the couch and pulls up his knees, settling against Bill’s side. He sits like that for approximately five seconds before he groans and sits back up.

“Your Terminator jacket is uncomfortable,” he complains. “Take it off.”

“Well, damn, aren’t you demanding tonight,” Bill says. He slips out of his leather jacket, revealing the black sweater he’s wearing underneath. Stan is delighted with this development; sweaters are a lot more comfortable to snuggle up to than leather jackets.

“That’s cheating,” he says, pointing at the sweater as if he cares even one bit about Bill not following the strict Terminator costume. “I’m sure Arnold never wore a sweater underneath his badass leather jacket.”

“Shut up, Stan. It’s freezing outside.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a bit chilly.”

Bill shoves him away from him. “Says the person who stayed in because he had a bit of a sore throat!”

“I might be dying, William! Be nice to me.”

Bill snorts loudly. Stan chuckles too, moving back to his position against Bill’s side.

“Okay, I might be a bit dramatic,” he admits. “Maybe I’m not terminally ill. Maybe I just have a cold.”

“I’m glad you came to that conclusion all by yourself.”

Stan looks up to Bill. “If you already knew I was barely even ill, why did you come to check up on me anyway?”

Bill’s cheeks flush again. Stan secretly finds him extremely adorable when he blushes, but of course he would rather die than to admit that out loud.

“Because I’m a good friend who doesn’t want his friends to be all alone on Halloween.”

“It’s Halloween, not some important holiday like Christmas or New Years. I would’ve been fine.”

“I can leave again,” Bill suggests, already moving to stand. Stan grabs into his sweater and pulls him back.

“No, you’re already here now. Might as well keep me company.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bill says, a bit too happy with himself as he settles back onto the couch. He kicks off his shoes, enduring Stan’s annoyed groan about how messily he kicks them away, and gets comfortable, wrapping an arm around Stan’s shoulders.

Stan enjoys cuddling with Bill. Like, he really enjoys it. He’s been getting comfortable with Bill’s touch since they were three, and now he’s one of the only people Stan can stand to be touched by. Even his parents mostly get short semi-hugs. Richie is the only other person he allows to touch him, but never to the same extend as Bill. Richie enjoys kissing his friends on the cheek or forehead whenever they say goodbye after a day of hanging out, which is also something Stan had to work up to. He can now comfortably let himself be kissed by Richie without flinching, but whenever he tries hugging him for more than a few seconds, Stan starts squirming.

Not with Bill, though. It’s been a very long time since he last squirmed underneath his touch - Stan can’t even remember the last time touching Bill had made him uncomfortable. It just feels so natural: knocking their knees together when they sit together in class; tapping against Bill’s fingers with his own; pressing together from shoulder to knee when watching movies. Stan even occasionally puts a hand on Bill’s thigh in class when he gets called on to speak and he gets his nervous stutter.

In fact, Stan has caught himself thinking about touching Bill more and more lately. And more often than not, his mind wanders to the less… innocent form of touching. Whenever he can’t sleep, he finds himself imagining Bill by his side, warm hands moving over his ribs and side. He thinks about tracing Bill’s jaw with his fingers, over his cheek to his lips. He wonders what it would feel like to be pressed against Bill with less layers between them. Not naked , per se, but maybe shirtless. Being able to feel Bill’s heart beat against his. Stan wonders if their hearts would beat in sync with each other. If their lips would slot together perfectly, or if they would bump noses and laugh about how clumsy and inexperienced they are.

That is, if Bill is inexperienced at all. He never really talks about his love life, but Stan knows he’s kissed some girls behind the bleachers at school. Maybe his hands have already slid over ribs and sides. Maybe someone already traced the path from Bill’s jaw to his lips. Maybe there’s nothing left for Stan to explore. To discover. Maybe all secrets of Bill’s body have been revealed to someone else already.

Stan doesn’t realize he’s completely tensed up until Bill’s fingers stop tangling themselves in his curls. He hadn’t even realized Bill was stroking his hair, so used to the touch he sometimes didn’t even register it anymore.

“Everything alright?” Bill asks. His chest vibrates against Stan’s ear. “You’re not gonna throw up, right?”

Stan pushes himself up to look at Bill.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I was just… uh - thinking.”

Bill raises his eyebrows. “About what?”

Now it’s Stan’s turn to turn red. Bill raises his eyebrows even higher, sitting up straight too. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. Damn it, Stan doesn’t blush easily. Bill must know something is up.

“Stan, were you thinking… filthy thoughts ?” Bill gasps, acting scandalized. Stan hits him.

“No, asshole! Your presence sucks every ounce of possible horniness I might possess right out of my body.”

Bill wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I could suck something else out of y- ” Stan hits him with a pillow before he can finish that sentence, pressing it against Bill’s face in a minor attempt to suffocate him.

“That’s such a Richie thing to say,” he complains, hitting Bill with the pillow again. “You really need to stop hanging out with him so much. He’s rubbing off on you.”

Bill tries to snatch the pillow away.

“You like it,” he says, struggling to take the pillow from Stan. Stan knows Bill is stronger and will eventually get the upper hand in this, but he isn’t going down without a fight. Stan shifts on the couch until he somehow manages to straddle Bill, yanking the pillow out of his hands to hit him over the head with it. Bill makes a small oof sound and shoots out his hands to grab Stan’s wrists.

“Okay, okay, truce!” He laughs. Stan smiles victoriously and drops the pillow, but doesn’t make a move to get off Bill’s lap. Bill doesn’t seem to mind either.

He lets go off Stan’s wrists and lets his hands rest on Stan’s sides instead. Stan is absolutely not painfully aware of Bill’s thumbs resting on his exposed hipbone, his sweater having ridden up in their struggle.

“Seriously though, what got you so distracted earlier?” Bill asks. The teasing tone has disappeared from his voice.

“I was just… I don’t know. I was just thinking about... kissing, I guess,” Stan confesses. Damn it, Bill Denbrough is like his own personal polygraph. It’s impossible not to tell him the truth when he’s staring at him with those big, bright eyes.

“Oh. That’s a weird topic to think about on Halloween.”

Stan rolls his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment behind feigned annoyance.

“Sorry I wasn’t thinking about torture techniques on this Holy Night of Horrors,” he says sarcastically. Bill squeezes his sides in response and Stan squirms, but not because he doesn’t like the touch. If anything, he squirms because he likes it a bit too much.

“Why were you thinking about kissing, then?” Bill pries. Jesus, the guy really can’t let it rest. As if Stan isn’t already embarrassed enough.

“I was just wondering... What it feels like. I don’t know, it’s stupid. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll strangle you in your sleep.”

Bill decides to ignore the last part of Stan’s confession and focus on the first part instead.

“You never kissed anyone before?” He asks. Stan tries to find the judgement or amusement in his voice, but he can’t find any.

“No. You know stuff like that grosses me out.”

Bill’s hands settle more firmly on Stan’s side as he swallows thickly. His ears turn red.

“N-not with me, th-though,” he says softly.

“No,” Stan smiles, feeling a blush of his own set high on his cheeks, “not with you.”

Bill moves his hands over Stan’s back and up his shoulders, lingering on his jaw. He grazes his fingertips over Stan’s jawline, thumbs moving up to press gently against his cheeks. Stan stares at him and leans into the touch without really meaning to. His heart is racing so fast he’s sure Bill can feel it.

Bill cranes his neck and brings Stan’s face closer, slow enough for Stan to tap out if he doesn’t want to do this. Stan’s mind is going a hundred miles a minute, trying to register what’s happening, trying to react to it, but the only thing he manages to do is bring up his hand and hold up a finger.

“Don’t kiss me, I’m sick,” he tells Bill, though he really wants him to fucking kiss him.

Bill blinks at him, then smiles.

“Is that the only reason you don’t want me to kiss you?” He asks.

Stan chews his lip. Bill’s eyes automatically dart to his mouth.

“Yes,” Stan breathes.

Bill takes away one hand from Stan’s face, leaving a cold imprint on Stan’s skin. He takes Stan’s held up hand instead and intertwines their fingers.

“What if I don’t care about getting sick?”

Stan makes a face.

“You should. It’s not fun.”

Bill shrugs, gently tugging at Stan’s hand.

“I wouldn’t have to take that Geography test on Monday,” he reasons. “And you could skip school to come over to my place and cuddle.”

“Are you encouraging me to miss out on my vital education?”

“If that means I get to kiss you, then yeah. Fuck school.”

Stan chuckles. He looks from Bill to their intertwined fingers and back, pressing harder into the touch of the hand still resting on his cheek. A quiet permission.

Bill gets it. His smile turns shy when he pushes himself up just enough to reach Stan’s lips, lingering for a second. Stan is afraid to move, scared that he’ll ruin it somehow, but allows himself to let his eyes travel over Bill’s face. From his nose to his parted lips up to his eyes. He’d never noticed the brown flecks in his eyes until now.

Bill’s breath tickles Stan’s cheeks. It’s something else Stan can only stand when it’s Bill; people noticeably breathing on him. He usually finds it disgusting to feel someone else’s breath on his skin, but with Bill, all he feels is excitement.

Stan’s eyes flutter shut when he finally feels Bill’s soft lips on his own. There’s some pressure against his mouth, an unfamiliar but not necessarily bad feeling. Bill moves his lips against Stan’s, obviously more experienced than Stan, and slides his hand from Stan’s cheek to his hair.

Stan is normally very calculated about everything he does. His mind is constantly working overtime to think through everything he does; each step he takes and each movement he makes is thoroughly thought out. He always thought kissing would be the same as any of his other actions, but his brain seems to completely shut down with Bill’s lips on his. For a few moments, Stan forgets how to think and just lets Bill lead him wherever he wants to go.

Bill skillfully pries open Stan’s mouth and slips in his tongue. Stan jerks back for a brief moment at the new sensation and Bill immediately pulls back, looking at him with concern. Stan offers him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “With tongue feels kind of weird.”

Bill chuckles.

“Yeah, I didn’t like it at first either. It takes time to get used to.”

Stan hums, sliding his hands over Bill’s arms to his chest and tugging at his sweater to bring him to his lips again.

“I think I need some more practice,” he murmurs against his mouth.

Bill huffs a laugh.

“I think so too,” he says, and then he kisses him again.

[lurkernolonger]

Find Your Centre

Nothing happens in this. Literally nothing. (Which is why it has laid neglected since August.) Yet it still manged to be upwards of 3,000 words. This is the fic I was referring to in this post, which seemed to resonate with some. So maybe you’ll enjoy? Or not. I don’t know.

If you’d like, you can find my other ramblings here.

Summary: Rae and Chloe attend a yoga class.

“Nope. No. No way. Not happening.” Rae shakes her head violently and begins walking backwards from the door.

“Rae, come off it would you? We’re already here.” Chloe pulls her back, pushing her closer to the large glass window that looks into the studio.

“Look at these people, Chlo! There’s no way I’m bending head over arse in front of them! What if I topple over and crush one – OH GOD what if I start a domino effect and the whole class goes down?!”

“Rae.” Chloe shakes her head and rubs at her temples, unsure if she wants to laugh or scream. Rae was always on it with her self deprecating humour. “Everything is going to be fine. Look, we said we would try new things, yeah? This is a new thing. And Kester said it could help with your anxiety. Our anxiety.”

“Yeah well, fuck Kester! I’d like to see him showing off his rectum to a room full of beautiful lithe people.” Rae gestures wildly at the window, before her face scrunches up in disgust. “Eugh, rank mental image. Forget I said that.”

Chloe giggles but clocks the genuine fear in Rae’s eyes. Grabbing Rae by the shoulders, she squares her so they’re face to face. “Rae, nothing bad is gonna happen. We’re gonna go in, take the class, feel great about ourselves, and then go home and complain about how sore we are, alright?” She gives her a reassuring squeeze. When Rae just looks down, Chloe adds “we’ll grab a spot in the back, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. Thanks Chlo.”

The pair quietly enter the room where the rest of the attendees are chatting away, setting up and stretching on the mats laid out for them. Rae chooses a spot in the back corner, conveniently away from the mirrors that line the opposite walls. A pretty blonde girl directly in front of them is already twisted up in some impossible looking pose and Rae feels incredibly out of place.

“Jesus. Everyone in here looks like a fucking ballerina,” Rae whispers incredulously, tilting her head to one side to try and figure out how the girl even got in that position.

Chloe looks around, a slight worry on her own face, until a wicked grin sweeps over her expression. “He,” Chloe inclines with a tilt of her head, “is no ballerina.”

Rae looks up and instantly feels her stomach twist in to it’s own contortion. Stood near the front of the class is possibly the most beautiful boy she has ever laid eyes on (and she’s seen Damon Albarn live). He’s wearing shorts and a plain top, both of which show off his toned muscles, which somehow are flexing despite all he’s doing was reading over a piece of paper. His hair is brown and floppy and as he ruffles it absentmindedly, it lands in a perfectly dishevelled coif that on anyone else would look messy but on him looks just right. Rae moves her gaze lower admiring the curve of his lips, the cut of his jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

Another bloke approaches him and they greet each other with a grin and a high five, and Rae takes note of how his smile is actually kind of goofy. It gives him laugh lines and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and his sex appeal is swiftly thrown in a pick-n-mix of utterly endearing cuteness, and Rae’s pretty sure she’s in love. They’re laughing now, the two boys, and fuck if his laugh isn’t goofier than his smile. It’s choppy, waving in and out like a tide, and Rae wants to dive in and maybe float there forever.

His eyes (which are just as brown and soft looking as his hair) shift to her as his friend speaks, and that’s when she realizes she’s been staring. Open mouth, unapologetic, obvious as fuck staring. Rae looks away quicker than she should, the urgent movement basically confessing that “yes, indeed I have been ogling you”, and swipes at her chin with a hand because she was probably certainly drooling. Her eyes are wide as she stares down at her mat, chastising herself internally for being caught out. She keeps her head lowered and counts to ten before she allows only her eyes to flick back towards him and what the fuck? He is still looking in her direction. Rae thinks she sees him bite his bottom lip against one of those crooked smiles, but she’s too busy trying to act like she’s not thinking about his mouth in that much detail to be sure.

“Ahem,” Chloe coughs smugly next to her. “Happy we stayed then?”

Rae scowls at her before shoving at her shoulder with a shush, trying to hide the fact that she’s positive the hot blood in her cheeks has increased the entire room’s temperature. She tells herself to focus on literally anything else besides the fact that one look off the bloke has made her thighs tenser than any yoga pose probably would.

Rae wants to shrink away, keep her focus on the ground, but her stupid eyes are stubborn and again they pivot to the front of the class. He’s not looking this time, but his body language has changed. Dare she say he’s conveying shyness, and how someone who looks like that could be unsure about anything Rae doesn’t know.

He has one arm across his front, grabbing at the opposite elbow while his thick eyebrows are knit slightly and for fuck’s sake his grumpy face is somehow more attractive. Rae thinks absently about kissing that furrow away before moving to those pouting lips and…fuck, he’s looking again. He’s looking and Rae is too surprised to react so they just stare at each other for a few heavy seconds before the hand grasping at his elbow releases it’s hold and starts waving tentatively. Rae’s eyes double in size and she whips her head from side to side to see who else is around, because there is no way he’s waving at her.

Except he is. And when she allows her hand to wave back – small and low, really just the tips of her fingers – she feels incredibly daft. That is until his face is breaking in to that devastating grin and she doesn’t notice that she’s sporting one to match. He chuckles and Rae clocks a dimple and a smattering of freckles and, really, it’s unfair for one face to have so much going for it.

“Oi, don’t think the class paid to watch you two flirt,” Chloe whispers with a giggle, nudging Rae in the arm and breaking the stare down.

“Yeah, don’t think they paid to drown in the flood in my knickers either!” Rae shoots back.

Chloe laughs so hard she falls on her back and has to clamp a hand over her mouth when several people send them dirty looks. Rae is warm all over, but for once it’s not from the negative glares. No, it’s all thanks to one person’s attention. The brown eyed, brown haired, epic slice who is…standing at the head of the class and trying to get everyone’s attention?

Bloody. Hell.

She’d only gone and stared and made awkward eye contact and fucking waved at the fit as yoga instructor! And now she’s supposed to watch his Greek God of a body bend and twist into positions that will definitely haunt her later when she’s alone in bed. Chloe’s caught on as well, her palm cupping her mouth again to stifle her giggles, and Rae slaps her arm with the back of her hand.

“S'not funny! This is embarrassing!” Rae whines in a whisper.

“Why? So you made eyes at each other. No big deal.” Chloe shrugs.

“The big deal is I need new knickers from just looking at his face! How am I meant to watch his body do…things?!? Fuck Chlo, I am literally paying him to teach me how to make a fool of myself! Let’s just go, please?” Rae grabs Chloe’s wrist and moves to stand but the boy’s voice interrupts her.

“Right, this is ‘Yoga for Beginners’! My name is Finn and I’ll be your instructor today.” There’s a general mummer in the room at that, along with most of the girls (and a few guys) exchanging sly looks with their friends. “I see a few new faces today, so to them I’d like to say welcome and I’m glad you came.”

There’s no way that Finn’s gaze zeros in on Rae as he speaks. Except it does. And in reaction she drops Chloe’s hand, fearing the blazing heat of her skin may scald her. Finn and Rae’s eyes lock again and suddenly leaving doesn’t seem so urgent.

It wasn’t so bad. Thankfully when the course said “for beginners” it was mostly truthful. Rae managed the mountain pose, the pigeon pose, and the tree pose with no problems. She was ace at the corpse pose, and it helped to be able to stare at the ceiling instead of examining the way Finn’s arms flexed and rolled with every movement, or how his back muscles showed through the soft white cotton of his tee, or how strong his thighs looked and what would they feel like pinning her down – CEILING Rae, keep your thoughts out of the gutter and on the ceiling! There were also a lot of deep breathing exercises where their eyes were shut, which were quite helpful to follow the positions where Rae had to look at the other people as examples, because watching Finn do a bridge or cat pose was just too suggestive for her apparently filthy mind.

At one point, Finn had instructed the class to “find your centre”. Rae assumed he meant balance but the only central thing she could focus on was the ache from between her legs. The worst of it was when they were attempting the Bharadvaja’s Twist. The pose itself was fine, (Rae surprised herself with how bendy she was) but Finn had been walking around the room, checking postures. She felt him pause as he stood behind her, before his whispered voice was in her ear.

“Alright if I just adjust your shoulders?”

Rae could feel his warm breath on her neck and she worried she would let out a moan rather than an answer should she open her mouth, so she only allowed her head to nod minutely. His hands felt heavy but gentle, and as he tilted her slightly so she wasn’t so sloped, she’s sure the movement caused her heart to shift as well.

“Good. That’s…you look good.”

His voice was husky and so, so close that she had to press her nails into her palms to stop from wondering how it would sound moving through the thick air under her duvet. Rae wasn’t sure if she imagined how he pressed into her skin a second longer than necessary, though she was certain that once he’d returned to his mat he hadn’t stopped to adjust anyone else. She looked over at Chloe who shot her a conspiratory smirk and raised brow, and Rae couldn’t help her own smile.

At the end of the session, nearly all the attendees rush to the table at the head of the room where Finn and another employee are taking registrations for the next set of classes.

“I liked this a lot, babes. Think you’d come again?” Chloe asks as she rolls up her mat.

“Er I don’t know. It was alright, I guess. Don’t think it calmed me much…” Rae tapers off, her eyes once again darting in Finn’s direction.

Chloe follows her eye line and smirks. “Right. Maybe another class then? Reckon this one had an unforeseen stress factor.”

Rae tries to keep her face plain, but Chloe pokes her shoulder with the end of her mat and they both start giggling.

“Ugh, they should put a bloody disclaimer on the class description! ‘Caution: Fit teacher. Attend at own risk to ovaries.’” Rae shakes her head with a wry laugh, picking up her bag to leave.

“Right well, hang on to your uterus then,” Chloe whispers back.

“What?”

Chloe lifts her brows and tilts her head, indicating Rae to look behind her. When she turns around, she sees Finn heading in their direction.

“Shit! What’s he coming over here for?! Chlo, whatever you do DO NOT leave me alone!” Rae grabs at Chloe’s arm pulling her right to her side.

“Relax, babe. I got your back.”

Finn’s gait slows as he approaches, eyes glued to the floor, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He looks hesitant, nervous even, and Rae thinks it strange that he’s displaying all of her own feelings. He finally looks up when he reaches them offering a small closed lip smile.

“Hiya.” Finn outstretches his hand towards Rae, but her brain is too occupied by how completely gorgeous he is up close, and how completely fucked she is to compute any motor skills. An awkward second passes, with his hand just hanging there until Chloe swoops  in and grabs it in an enthusiastic shake.

“Hey! I’m Chloe and this is Rae!” Chloe chirps brightly before releasing his grip, knocking Rae purposely with her elbow. When no one else speaks up she adds, “great class! Very…zen.”

“Thanks,” Finn huffs a breathy laugh before another silence causes his brows to meet. He clears his throat, eyes shifting to Rae who looks away from him immediately. He presses his tongue into the corner of his mouth, before glancing off to the side.

“Riiiiight. I think I’m just gonna go put my mat away. Let you two…chat. Or, not. Or…I’ll just be over there.”

“Chloe!” Rae hisses, adding a quiet “traitor” under her breath. She looks to Finn giving him a sheepish half smile, before she clears her throat. “Sorry about that.”

“S’alright.”

There’s another awkward pause before their eyes catch, both smiling shyly.

“So…was it good for you?” Finn’s brows are raised in question, and his hand has found his elbow again. “The class, I meant!” he adds hastily at Rae’s widened eyes.

“Oh! Er…yeah. It was better than I expected. Not that I expected it to be bad, or anything! You were dead good to watch. Not that I was watching you!! I mean well I was, since you’re the teacher and all. Which you’re great at, by the way. Suppose it was just easier than I thought? Or you made it look easy. To me.  A beginner. Didn’t know I could bend like that!”

Rae chuckles nervously before looking away to cringe at her waffling, fighting the urge to face palm.  She quickly scans the room for Chloe, or another excuse to scarper, or maybe a black hole to suck her right out of this universe; any means of escape, really. But when she glances back at Finn his whole face is crinkled with that goofy smile, his eyes dancing with…something she can’t quite name. He hasn’t said anything though, so Rae takes it as her chance to end the torture.

“Right well, I should go find Chloe. Thanks for…you know.” She gestures vaguely around the room before pivoting on her heel to walk away, shaking her head at her ineptitude. She makes it a whole two steps before she hears Finn behind her.

“Ilikeyourshirt!” he blurts, the words blending together from his rushed delivery.

Rae turns to find him one arm out stretched in the air as if it flew up along with his exclamation, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck, brows furrowed. He looks just as confused as she is, like he didn’t expect his body to eject those words, and now Rae has seen enough of his face to know for sure any and every expression this boy makes is completely adorable. Finn looks at her then, offers a sort of pained grimace with a simultaneous shrug (and, yup, still cute) before his eyes drop to her top. She looks down as well, remembering she had thrown on her Stone Roses tee.

(Chloe, who had been chatting up Finn’s friend, walks back into the room to rescue Rae. When she sees the pair still stood silent – both just staring at Rae’s chest – she quickly turns back round to wait in the hall.)

“Erm…thanks.”

Rae shifts uncomfortably, cursing her decision to wear a sports bra. This fit lad is basically staring at her chest while she was suffering from major uni-tit. Prays the inferno in her face will heat the rest of her and prevent her nips from being on display. Holy fuck, he’s watching the boob-tube! The realization of the situation hits her and she crosses her arms over her stomach; a well practised move for a chubby girl who often tries to swallow her own size. Doesn’t take in to account that now her forearms are acting as a tit shelf and she is basically presenting them to him.

The movement seems to snap Finn to attention and he coughs roughly, looking away finally. He’s embarrassed, if his flushed face and red-tipped ears are any indication and Rae thinks now would be the perfect time for that black hole.

“The Roses are mint. Don’t know a lot of girls that listen to them.” Finn’s still palming the back of his neck, eyes flicking between the toes of his trainers and Rae’s chest.

“No?” Rae lifts her brows in question, not sure if she should be flattered or offended.

“No. None actually. It’s…refreshing. I like it.” Finn chuckles bashfully, scratching at his bicep and nodding to himself as if he’s finally pleased with what’s he’s said.

“Yeah well, I don’t listen to that mainstream stuff,” Rae asserts.

“No Crap FM,” they both add in unison, their eyes snapping to look wide-eyed at the other. Their surprised expressions slide into baffled amusement and then they’re laughing, neither of them noticing that they’ve both taken a step closer.

“Er…will you be back next week? For the class?”

“Oh uh, I’m not sure. Maybe. You’ll be teaching?”

“Yeah. I’ll even wear my Stone Roses tee. We can match.”

“Actually I think I’ll be repping Oasis,” Rae teases, starting to walk backwards away from him.

Finn follows her, keeping the distance between them short, that lopsided smile sliding across his beautiful, beautiful face. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?”

Rae trips on an abandoned mat and stumbles backwards a bit but Finn reaches out, hands catching her at the waist. Instinctively her hands find his shoulders, before she corrects herself. She’s embarrassed; wants to cover up with a joke about how she should have “namaste-d in bed”, but her wit gets lost in how close Finn’s face is to hers. She’s too occupied wondering what constellations she could draw amongst those stupidly charming freckles to notice Finn’s eyes are focused on her lips.

“Yeah, that’s how it’s gonna be,” she finally replies quietly, more confident than she feels.

“Then I’m very much looking forward to next week,” Finn answers back, just as quiet.

Rae presses her lips together to stop from smiling too wide, or babbling on, or just snogging his face off, and takes a step back. When she turns to head towards the door, she hears Finn chuckle before humming the opening chords to She’s Electric.

Yeah, she’ll definitely be back.

Told you nothing happened.

Tag list:

@bitchesbecrazy89 @crystalgiddings1993 @emmatationsforall @eveerez @finn-nelson-for-the-win @fyeahsharonrooney @hey1tskat1e @i-dream-of-emus @isthistherightwayround @karinskyme @kingbeeyonce @kj0504 @kneekeyta @likeashootingstarfades @lilaviolet @l88cym @mallyallyandra @milllott @milymargot @mmfdfanfic @nutinanutshell @protectfinnnelson @raeonashadowcaster @rockinthebeastmode @stinemarine @tinakegg @vivammfd @2muchtosee2littletime

[ts-akhmim]

Episode 11 | “You let me like a parasite leach into this game and I will not be going anywhere”- Ali

Alright, so now it's my time to either put up or shut up. This is the round I really need to make this move in order to put myself in a much better spot moving forward. Either Ali or Autumn need to go this round, and I need to figure out how in the hell I can make this work. I know me, Devon, and the three Beauties are in for this plan, but I'm really concerned about Jakey this round. For some reason he's not being fully forthcoming about his thoughts about this vote, and with someone telling me that him and Ali might be close, I'm really concerned that he may go and ruin this plan. I don't want to think he'd do that - he should know I have had his back since Day 1 and I still think he has mine - but like... this ain't a fun spot to be in. Part of me wants to stack on Autumn and pretend like it's supposed to be a split vote to get Ali to use his idol if Jakey does tell him, but it would be worthless, but I don't even know if that would work. So I think I really need to figure out what Jakey is ok with here and then figure out how I can guarantee the heat doesn't come on me if this plan is found out.

I- just... you think you know people. Me and Adam rn https://media.tenor.com/images/ad6bd858d5371eb4ad2755d4a11bc748/tenor.gif but also me and Adam rn https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b8/d0/26/b8d026447effad19676de7e8ccc05c6f.gif Not Adam calling me at midnight to tell me that the whole ass tribe is planning to blindside Ali. I can't even get into the tea fully cause I'm in my bag now that I know 6 people think so little of me and will to lie to my face all day tomorrow but like it's fine. They will be dealt with, Adam is a king, we will get our Emmy's tomorrow for bamboozling everyone back, and I will 100% get Ali to play the idol he (probably?) has when I lay all the cards at 7 pm EST tomorrow lmao. And I'm really gonna get Jakey and Deovn's double agent asses- THAT I do know! Just you wait cause like I said before: name an ally I won't kill

to THINK, to literally THINK i wanted adam out at a point in this game. adam is literally the only person i trust in this game, i will be the kingmaker for him to get the win he deserves. what a genuinely lovely man, im so glad we are both still here. it sounds like there is a blindside being cooked up for little old me this round and for what...i'm borderline inactive, i cant connect with anyone in this game like... voting me for what... for literally what. also if jake is voting for me i will literally scream into the void this is so stupid for him. i am literally so far up his ass in this game all season and yet he wants to send me packing and for what. adam literally is my god send, as is devon's inability to keep literally anything a secret? like i trusted devon... so much?! and yet he literally threw me so far under the bus my squished up corpse is a 2D shape. i'm so... shook?! and also i still cant decide if i think jake is in on this, but if he is... im screaming? what a clown decision. but literally i cant believe this. im so excited to idol out one of the generic men in this game out tomorrow, they can all literally suck it up i cant wait. i want to be the kingslayer, i want to be the person who votes out amir for the first time in tumblr survivor. screw keeping big threats around, fuck that noise. i'm going to literally go through metamorphosis and become alyssa this season. i will be the mother hen who takes the bullet for my allies moving forwards, adam/autumn will make it further and further (plus jake if he is proven innocent and not a snake) anyway cast assessment: augusto - he can have such empty conversations for hours?! like this tribe confuses talking lots with social game. but like with him its a real i don't love your excess energy, go girl give us too much... would love to see him do literal anything beyond just having nothingy conversations... that does not a winner make amir - WOW his galaxy brain is so big. honestly i have to be impressed with amir, the fact he has this tribe misted that he is not the mastermind he is... a testament to his skill. i want to idol him out tomorrow adam - literally my jesus. i owe him my life in this game and i will stay true to that. i cant believe i didnt trust him at first wow... i hope adam gets the win this season autumn - my other goddess.. the literal love of my life, i want her and adam in the f3 this season if i cant make it. i want an autumn hill two time winner yes please and thank you devon - okay devon remains SUCH a sweet guy but oh my god does he play like a snake HELLO. he literally pumped me full of hot air for literally nothing wow woww wowww. he has lied to me for rounds and rounds for literally nothing... am ready to get that snake caught in a trap jake - i think the man who i was willing to give up my entire game for has been lying to me, i feel the exact same way i felt when my boyfriend cheated on me like this feels so personal... and i dont even see the endgame for jake with this hello!? my heart is broken, i literally watched sharifa play in sequester for HOURS with that man and for what?! for WHAT kendall - a literal sweetheart, never dissed. hope she goes far the only non-fraudulent one of the bunch tj -askjdlfsa he is so... stale jKLJKASDFAS like as a player go girl give us nothing. i wish he was being deadass when he said we were gonna squash our beef but i guess not huh? clownery from me i see anyway its almost 8am i need bed. im fueled by rage and im ending the generic men. adam and autumn are the loves of my life, brain, brawn and beauty are linking UP.

GORL yall better hold onto your britches this is gonna be a LONG one, so immunity happens, a music challenge, which i knew was right up my alley, i was confident going into it and tbh i had no idea what was gonna happen this round, so i decided to take a risk and use my challenge advantage, WHICH PAID OFF BECAUSE BITCH I AM T H E SONGSTRESS, DO RE MI FA SO LA TI DA UP OUT MY FACE BECAUSE YALL CANT GET ME THIS ROUND. who would've thought little old me would end up winning not one, but TWO individual immunities in a single season! im always dragging myself but for once im so PROUD of myself because with my last one there really wasnt anything to brag about, it was handed to me, which kinda did feel nice in a sense considering i know no one trusts me yet they wanted to still keep me around, but like this one was M Y own WIN like on my own merit. I'm an aries, dont ever count me out because i will deliver all the gags and all the goops so after my win, i know im 100% safe, so i start to think... hmm well idk who i want to go so i guess ill see and wait if anyone says anything to me, and then DEVON calls me and we're having a convo when all the sudden he gets real coy.... and starts going "OMG ADAM UGHHH I DONT KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU THIS OR IF I CAN OR CANT" meanwhile, obviously i wanna know the tea so im like well bitch! spill! and he tells ME that apparently, him, jakey, tj, amir, and augusto have all allegedly been in talks and want to BLINDSIDE ALI THIS ROUND because they think he has the idol...and purposely leave me and autumn out? ill get to the THOUGHTS i have on that soon, because oh, i have SEVERAL thoughts, but as he tells me this he's basically just saying OMG PLEASE IM TAKING A HUGE RISK TELLING YOU THIS DONT TELL ANYONE ELSE, which, i DO trust devon slightly, but here's where the problems began and im gonna break it down for yall, 1) ONCE AGAIN, THE BIGGEST PHONYS IN THE GAME FAKE 1 AND FAKE 2 AMIR AND AUGUSTO LMAO LIKE .... DID WE NOT JUST END THE BEEF WE HAD WITH EACH OTHER BECAUSE YALL WANTED TO GO BEHIND MY BACK AND NOT INCLUDE ME IN THE PLANS, ONLY FOR YOU TO DO THE SAME THING YET AGAIN??????? 2) Devon also TOLD me straight up and he was kinda laughing when he said it "im gonna be straight up no one trusts you in this game but i do and thats why im telling you", because AMIR/AUGUSTO ARE TELLING EVERYONE I HAVE THE IDOL FROM BEAUTY. WHY WILL NO ONE BELIEVE ME AND WHY ARE THEY BELIEVING THEM I DONT HAVE IT. LIKE I CAN OWN MY GAME AND MY MISTAKES AND THE ONLY THING IVE DONE TO DESERVE DOUBT WAS MY STUPID LIE ABOUT THE AUCTION BUT E V E R Y O N E LIED LIKE WHY AM I ALWAYS THE BAD GUY? YALL WANT ME TO BE THE BAD GUY, CHUN LI? BECAUSE GUESS WHAT, I CAN BE. ive been playing this game with ONE mindset only. I'll be semi honest with everyone, but lie to me and then you can no longer believe a word i say.... and 3) devon also told me, while he trusts me and wants to go far with me, everyone else doesnt want to take me out this round, next round, or even 7, theyre planning to go for me around like final 6......ok so what im hearing is people are ALREADY trying to plan when to take me out and while he may trust me, i basically would have no way to play the game other than with him??? which why would i just sit there and accept that fate...OH AND ALSO 4) him and everyone else really just expects me to sit back and knowingly vote against kendall, who WOULDNT be going home so they can blindside ali...... so id literally lose a friend in this and gain an enemy? do i have idiot plastered on my forehead??? well, i guess they were right not to tell me about the plan because BITCH I RAN RIGHT TO ALI. Like honestly, screw all those people, i feel like ive done NOTHING so horrible to make people dislike or distrust me so severely so i feel like i dont owe anyone a damn thing. why would i just sit complacently waiting to get picked off at 5/6 and put all my eggs in one basket when i single handedly can change the whole game right now, and thats exactly what i plan on doing. At this point im TIRED of people overlooking me and thinking they can play this game around me and get away with it, but whatever, YALL WANTED GOOD TV, YALL WANTED A SHOW WELL BUCKLE UP BECAUSE YALL MAY BE GOOD AT THIS GAME AND GOOD AT BEING FAKE, BUT YALL DONT KNOW WHAT YOU GOT YOURSELVES INTO WITH ME, IN THE WISE WORDS OF TAMMIE BROWN, YOU WANTED CRAZY, WELL YOU GOT IT NOW ali was SHOOK when i spilled the beans to him, and i told him like look this is me giving you my trust because he's the only person who's shown me respect besides autumn and even if he wasnt being genuine, at least he's being SMART AND GUESS WHAT IT'S GONNA SAVE HIS GAME BECAUSE BITCH HE TOLD ME HOW HE HAS THE IDOL- NOT JUST ONE, BUTTWO OF THEM FJADHSKJFH GORL FIRST OF ALL im so happy i can STOP PLAYING 2048 THAT DAMN GAME WAS GOING TO BE MY UNDOING, SECOND OF ALL I LITERALLY CACKLED ON CALL WHEN HE TOLD ME, I KNEW I COULD TRUST MY GUT ABOUT HIM, OH AND IT GETS EVEN BETTER HE ALSO HAS THE IDOL NULLIFIER EFSDKAJH WHICH MEANS....if we play our cards right......we can take out whoever we want, maybe everyone was right to be scared of us. I'd be scared, i think they should all be scared, yall wanted to say fuck my drag time and time again, well watch me bring it to the runway now. we also agreed we need to let autumn in on this, which could be either the BEST or WORST move....i really THINK i can trust autumn, her and ali are hands down my #1/2 in the game, and devon right behind, although if we pull this off, i told them both i dont want to get devon since he let me know this, i think even if i blindside him and dont let him know, i can at least justify myself enough to him and let him know him going home was still never an option, but i called autumn right after ali and told her all the same tea and at first she was kinda hesitant about it all, but i knew her and jakey had a good relationship so the hardest part for me i think was making her really believe he's against her which i think i did a good job of making her believe because she SPILLED the tea to me about how her/ali/jakey had an alliance, and i absolutely did just kick him out and take his place oop, which i dont trust jake at all because something about him/amir/augusto is so shady, you mean to tell me they voted you out and he hasnt tried to go for them or vice versa this whole time.... my gut is telling me they're in kahoots, and would 100% be a solid 3 against me down the line... my whole game rn hinges on autumn believing me because its the TRUTH i just told her what i was told but clearly i painted it a little more my way oops, so as of now the plan is autumn and me will both keep playing dumb tomorrow, then around 7 pm we're gonna "tell ali" the plan (which i already told him) but autumn doesnt know he has the idol yet, so ali will confirm it to her, and we'll make our move. I'm going to push for it to be amir, i want him OUT OF THIS GAME. im SICK of him and augusto prancing around like the wicked step sisters and treating me like cinderella. but who knows, maybe devon telling me was strategy on his part so i tell ali and we flush the idol and they vote autumn, but i have to hope that all those people are good enough with autumn that they dont want to do that just yet... but i mean, ali does have 2 so we already said if we feel like we need to use both, one for him and one for autumn, it's an option. Also if any of them have the idol ... this could become a mess if someone plays one right after ali, this could also just fall apart if they split the votes 3/3 sedkfha the odds of me actually getting my way....are feeling slim, but im gonna be hopeful because it's all i got, if this works, it could be my winning move, but if it fails, and there's a high chance it fails.... im gone next round... but with ali staying i dont think thatll happen, he's a shield for me and someone i can trust, im taking a page from the michele winners at war book, and he's my jeremy. I trust him, and i need him in this game for at least a few more rounds or im just gonna be dragged along and disposed of at some point. And if i leave then whatever at least i can say i caused chaos, which im always down for.

So I think Ali is getting sketched out by this vote, so now I am working with Jakey and Devon to figure out a plan to make Ali feel safe and not play an idol. But I'm like... oh dear... this could really blow up in our faces if this doesn't work. And I'm over here trying to communicate now to everyone what is going on so that they don't panic and I'm like... wasn't I just on the bottom? Now I feel like I have some kind of power again? I like this feeling, but also, it be scary as fuck.

If last round was the calm before the storm, this round is a full on hurricane of a vote. I have spent the past round or so trying to rally the troops against Ali and I think it can finally happen? He has two idols, a vote reveal, a idol blocker, and a killer social game so these people need to smell the roses and get him out. I really hope I don’t leave but if this is my undoing, at least I tried to make a move! 

tribal is in a few hours and i have a WHOLE ass headache because i dont know what's gonna happen....so last night devon LITERALLY told me everyone but me/autumn were gonna be in the vote against ali... but then today he's telling me jake doesnt know he thinks......am i crazy? did i mishear?? or is he trying to gaslight me.....because i KNOW what i heard and i literally led this whole jake slander campaign to autumn and ali, autumn doesnt think we can trust jakey because i can see devon feeling nervous after telling me that and then they try to tell jake to get in good with us so he knows our plan, but it also doesnt really make sense if jakey works with them unless my conspiracy about him/amir being in kahoots makes sense....so i dont fucking know what's happening, if it were up to me this would stay between me/autumn/ali and we'll ask for forgiveness rather than permission on the next day... autumn/ali are on call rn and theyre supposed to let me know after because autumn is supposed to "spill" the tea to ali (which i already spilled last night) and then we'll go from there because since he does have the idol we just need to place our votes very carefully in conclusion; there's gonna be some angry gays one way or another after tribal (and a few confused heteros)

I don’t think anyone respects me... which is annoying because I am currently playing a social game. But even more annoying because nobody listens to me!!!!!! Like literally all we have to do is switch to Autumn!!!! Switch to Autumn and everything will be fine and no one is willing to do that. Ugghhhhhhh god damnit I’m going to lose my mind.

I WILL CONFESS LATER BUT WE ARE SENDING DEVON OUT 4-3 AND IM GONNA IDOL MYSELF BECAUSE IM SCARED... IM READY TO BE IN FINAL EIGHT AND IM READY TO FIGHT.

Fucking THIS AND ALL THESE FKING PEOPLE IM SO DONE, I literally have no course of action, I’ve went through every single plan in my mind and every single one reaches a dead end, I don’t know the details of how the idol block and vote reveal work I can’t switch the vote to jakey, because Ali will vote reveal and then idol jakey and then I’m left with 4 people who want me dead and jakey blowing up my game I can’t split on autumn and Ali because we don’t have the votes without jakey I can’t fucking do anything at all I have to be passive, but I have to be alert Ali isn’t gonna go, jakey isn’t gonna go, autumn won’t, and adam wont It’s going to be me or my allies So I just have to try and make it not me at this point 

I think devon is about to leave and like, that is okay, just be who you are