#even if him and Jimmy were gone too quickly to see it through. or to see it withstand

[arc852]

8. Blinded

Summary: Jimmy has a run in with a rat and gets an injury that blinds him. He's now lost but thankfully, it seems another borrower has found him...

Word Count: 2081

Warnings: Injury, blood, temporary loss of a sense, fear, and panic

AO3 Link

This was a fun one to write! I hope you guys enjoy!

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 Jimmy didn’t know where he was, all he did know was that he had to keep moving.

 A rat had somehow made its way into the walls that Jimmy called home. He hadn’t been expecting it, suddenly turning the corner in his familiar route and coming face to face with a snarling rat was not something he ever thought would happen. But it had and before Jimmy could turn and run, the rat reared forward and slashed his face with its sharp claws.

 It had hurt. It still hurt. Jimmy had howled in pain as the claws ran right over his eyes, forcing them closed. He almost collapsed right then and there but he could hear the rat hissing, probably getting ready to lunge at him again. So Jimmy ignored the pain and the fact he couldn’t open his eyes and ran back the way he came.

 He lost the rat at some point, thankfully. His sporadic directions and his adrenaline fueled running had seemed to be enough to lose the rat. For now, at least.

 But thanks to everything, he had no idea where he had ended up. He had hit several walls on the way, had to push through some of them by force, he remembered. He turned so many corners he wasn’t even sure he hadn’t just gone in one big circle.

 He paused where he was, panting, listening for any tell signs of claws on the ground. But there was only silence and so finally Jimmy allowed himself to fall to his knees to rest. He brought a shaky hand up to his face and winced at the pain and then winced again when his hand came back sticky. Opening his eyes was, once again, also a no go.

 Jimmy dropped his hands to his side and wondered just how he was going to get through this. He couldn’t see, he didn’t know where he was, and the rat could still be somewhere in these walls looking for him. All in all, things were not looking good for Jimmy.

 He forced himself not to cry, only because the salt in his tears made his wounds sting terribly. He forced them back and simply tried to breathe.

 “H-Hello?” A sudden voice cut through Jimmy’s thoughts and had him jumping, giving a loud cry in surprise as he forced himself up back to a stand. “Whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya!” The voice said and Jimmy paused, as his heart calmed down, that a voice meant another borrower.

 He hadn’t seen another borrower in so long. Of course, he still couldn’t see them but just knowing they were there was enough.

 “N-No, no, you’re okay. I just…I can’t see right now.” Jimmy said, trying to reassure the other borrower so he wouldn’t leave. This was a miracle though, another borrower surely could help him. He was saved!

 “I…oh yeah, geez, are you okay? What happened?” The other borrower sounded more than a bit concerned and Jimmy let out a sigh.

 “There’s a rat somewhere in these walls. It caught me off guard and managed to claw at my face.” He reached for it again and winced as he made contact with the injury. His hand dropped. “It…really hurts.”

 “I can imagine…” The other borrower said. As the other borrower trailed off, Jimmy started thinking of ways of asking for help. Of course he could just straight up and ask but…well, he was a bit nervous.

 “...Um, I’m Jimmy by the way.” Jimmy decided to say instead.

 “Uh? Oh! I’m Skizz.” The other borrower, now Skizz, answered back. Jimmy nodded.

 “Well, it’s nice to meet you Skizz. And pretty amazing timing too.” Jimmy laughed a bit though laughing was only contorting his face in a way that hurt so he quickly stopped with a long wince. 

 “Yeah, dude, I don’t know how you got away from that rat without being able to see but that’s impressive.” Skizz said with a slight tinge of awe in his voice and Jimmy couldn’t help but blush a bit.

 “I mean, I’m completely lost now and have no way to help myself. But, um, thanks?” Jimmy said.

 “Oh, well, I can definitely help!” Skizz exclaimed, loudly. In fact, now that Jimmy was focused on that, Skizz’s voice was quite loud. It was probably due to one of his senses being gone though. He had heard that could happen, if one sense went down then the others improved greatly. His hearing must be amazing right now if Skizz was so loud to him.

 Jimmy sighed in relief as Skizz’s words processed. “That would be great, thank you so much.”

 “Of course! Just wait right there, I’ll go get my first aid kit.” Skizz said and Jimmy frowned, wondering why he had to stay where he was. Wouldn’t it be safer for him to go with Skizz? Instead of just waiting out in the middle of the walls where the rat could come back for him? Jimmy didn’t like that idea very much and took a step forward, and then another.

 “I can come with you! I’d rather I did to be honest…” Jimmy said, still moving forward. He tried to guide himself using the walls but for some reason he couldn’t reach them on either side.

 “Huh? Whoa-wait, stop!” Skizz suddenly exclaimed but it was already too late. Skizz’s words had barely processed before Jimmy’s next step was met with open air. Jimmy screamed as he felt himself tip forward and fall into a pit that should not have been there.

 Jimmy braced himself but the collision with the ground came a lot sooner than he was expecting. He hit the surface but it barely affected him, nothing more than a slight ache and a momentary loss of breath from the fall. “Gotcha!” Skizz exclaimed and it was only then that Jimmy froze.

 His hand brushed against the surface he was on as he sat himself up on it. It felt leathery and there was definitely a heat coming from it. But mostly, it was the fact that it was moving that truly gave it away. That, and what Skizz had said. “...You’re a human.” Jimmy said quietly, too in shock to be any louder.

 “Yeah?” Skizz sounded confused though Jimmy just barely registered it. “I told ya to stay put for a reason tho. Here.” Skizz moved and Jimmy stiffened but he was only placed back down. Jimmy felt the ground below him, it was cold and smooth. He must have been on the kitchen counter this whole time, not in the walls like he had believed. “There. Now please sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

 As Jimmy heard footsteps receding, he jumped into action. He couldn’t stay here, not with a human. He couldn’t believe he had been tricked like that…but there was no use in thinking things like that. He had to make it back into the walls and from there…well, he wasn’t really sure what he was going to do but he’d figure it out. Right now, he just needed to get as far away from the human as possible.

 Jimmy stood up on shaky legs and tried to gain his bearings. He took a few steps forward, making sure to be slow and feeling in front of him with his foot before he stepped down. When he felt the edge of the counter, Jimmy knew he was safe to turn around and move a bit faster than before, trying to make it to the walls.

 He came into contact with them, feeling the familiar backsplash that led up into drywall. Now all he had to do was find where his entrance was…

 “I’m back! And the first thing google says to do is clean…it.” Jimmy froze as he heard Skizz’s voice as he came back into the kitchen. “What-” Jimmy didn’t wait for Skizz to finish, jumping back into action and desperately trying to feel for his entry even faster.

 He heard rapidly approaching footsteps and grazed along the wall as fast as he could go, only to trip in the process. He groaned as he made contact with the floor but tried to quickly brush it off so he could stand back up. Unfortunately, before he could get himself all the way up, something came up behind him. Jimmy gasped but there was nothing he could do as fingers wrapped around him and pushed him closer towards the palm of Skizz’s hand. Jimmy tried pushing against the fingers, but he didn’t have to see to know it wasn’t doing anything.

 “Whoa, hey, calm down. It’s okay…” Skizz said and with his words, his grip got just a bit tighter. Not enough to hurt but enough where Jimmy felt completely immoble. “What’s going on? I thought you were okay with letting me help you.”

 Jimmy let out a small and shaky breath. “That…that was before I realized…” Jimmy felt his throat close up. It was still too much, to think that a human had seen him, that a human had his hands on him. There was no getting out of this, Jimmy was completely and utterly helpless. Even more so than usual, what with currently not being able to see. Skizz let out a small, questioning hum, but even that made Jimmy flinch.

 “Before you realized…what?” Skizz asked and Jimmy thought it was obvious. Did he really have to spell it out for the human?

 Jimmy tilted his head down. He knew he couldn’t see, but even knowing he was facing the human’s face was too much for him right now. “...That you were human.” Jimmy said ever so softly. Like saying it out loud for the second time was somehow finalizing his fate.

 “Because I’m human?” Skizz clarified and Jimmy just nodded. “I don’t…” Skizz trailed off and Jimmy could only wonder what for. But after a moment, Skizz let out a small, “oh,” and suddenly Jimmy was being moved again. He squirmed once more against the grip but he soon found that he was being put down, back on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t realize, even if you can’t see, I’m probably…humans are probably pretty uh, scary to you, huh?”

 Jimmy was still tense, not knowing where this was going, but he nodded. “We aren’t supposed to be seen.” Jimmy quietly explained. “Humans don’t know about us. If they did then…” A wave of thoughts slammed into Jimmy’s head but he didn’t speak any of them out loud. He hoped his quiet trail off was enough for Skizz to realize all that he meant.

 And apparently, it was. “Geez, yeah, I get it. Sorry, I didn’t realize…” Skizz let out a sigh. “I’m not going to hurt you, or turn you into the government or anything like that. I really do just want to help ya. I wasn’t lying about anything I said before.”

 On one hand it was still hard for Jimmy to believe anything a human said. But on the other…Skizz really hadn’t done anything to warrant Jimmy’s mistrust, other than being a human. Skizz could have snatched him up the second Jimmy had revealed himself and it would have been even easier than normal, since Jimmy was even more helpless with not currently being able to see.

 Maybe Skizz really did just want to help.

 And besides, it wasn’t like Jimmy really had any other choice.

 He sighed. “Okay.”

 “Okay?” Skizz repeated and Jimmy nodded.

 “I…I would like your help.” Jimmy clarified and he heard Skizz let out a soft sigh. And for some reason, though Jimmy had no real way of knowing, Jimmy imagined a smile blooming on the human’s face.

 “And I would be happy to.” Skizz said and there was some shuffling around. Jimmy could only assume it was Skizz laying out all the things he had grabbed from the first aid kit. “And I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

 Jimmy nodded, not knowing if he truly believed that but willing to put his trust in this human anyway.

 And as a gentle fluff of cotton started to rub at his eyes, Skizz’s words describing what he was about to do every step of the way, Jimmy began to realize more and more that that trust was more than earned. 

 And as he was finally able to open his eyes after what seemed like forever, and saw that smile he had only just imagined before, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile back.

[lcvecove]

Cleaning Max’s apartment while he’s gone and you accidentally break one of his race trophies.

𝒏ote , stop i loved writing this so much! thank you for sharing your little thought with me nonnie <3

fem!reader who is very sensitive (like me🥲) I don’t love how I ended this but that’s okay. . .

you had been so careful. so unbelievably careful not to touch the trophies as you dusted the shelf max’s whole life was displayed on.

you’d tiptoed around them like they were sleeping dragons. you used the softest cloth. held your breath. didn’t even blink too hard when you passed certain ones.

and still - still - you heard it.

that sickening clink.

that tiny shift in balance that meant something had moved when it shouldn’t have. you turned just in time to watch the austria trophy teeter and then crash.

you step down the little stool you used to reach up high, making your way over to the scene. your fingers hovered over the damage, the cloth still clutched in one hand like a murder weapon.

you whispered a panicked, “no, no, no…” under your breath, as if that would rewind time.

you hadn’t even touched it. just brushed too close, just shifted the air wrong, apparently. and now . . .

you sit back, legs folded, hand over your lips as you weigh your options.

you could call him.

you could confess in person.

you could flee the country.

“oh my god” you whisper, picking up the two pieces and inspecting them like maybe, just maybe, they’ll magically snap back together if you’re gentle enough.

but no. the clean break down the middle is unforgiving. you hold both halves in your hands like a confession.

“this is fine,” you mumble, more to yourself than anyone else. “this is totally, completely-”

a soft mrrp interrupts you.

you glance up to see donatello perched on the edge of the shelf, right where the empty spot now is, tail flicking innocently, blinking at you like what?

a few feet away jimmy is sprawled across max’s couch, utterly unconcerned.

your eyes narrow. “you guys suck” you huff with a pout and place the two broken halves down in front of you.

donatello lets out a quiet meow, almost smug. you look down at the broken trophy, then back up at the cat. you consider blaming him. briefly. desperately.

but you had always been a terrible liar and max would see right through it. he’d take one look at your face and know.

still you point a very stern finger “you better back me up when he gets home” as if the cat’s going to deliver a grade A defence statement in your honour.

when max steps through the door of his apartment, he’s immediately concerned by how eerily quiet it is. there’s no music softly playing like there usually is, no clatter from the kitchen.

the kind of silence that makes his chest tighten.

he toes off his shoes, hanging his keys up at the door, carefully holding the bag of takeout in his hand. “baby I’m home” he yells, a faint smile on the edge of his lips over how domestic his life has become.

when there’s no answer in response max frowns and rounds the corner into the living room, stopping in his tracks when he sees you.

sees you curled up on the couch, jimmy in your lap, tissues scattered next to you, eyes puffy and cheeks red, tears streaming down your face.

max’s heart drops straight into his stomach. the bag of takeout hits the floor with a dull thud, completely forgotten.

he’s by your side in two strides, crouching low in front of the couch, his hands hovering like he doesn’t know where to touch first. your knees, your arms, your face.

“what happened?” his voice is gentle but panicked, like it’s being strangled by fear. “are you hurt? what’s wrong?” he spits question after question.

you shake your head quickly, clutching jimmy tighter to your chest. the cat doesn’t protest. just purrs against you like he knows your heart is in pieces and somehow cuddling him will fix it.

“I broke it,” you whisper. your voice is hoarse, quiet, like admitting it again might make it worse.

max blinks. “broke what schat?”

your lower lip wobbles as you glance toward the shelf. his eyes follow yours, and land on the empty space where his austria trophy used to sit.

max exhales. not a sigh of anger. just a quiet release of tension. relief. but you misread it.

“i’m so sorry,” you rush out. “I was being careful, I swear. I didn’t even touch it, I just — donatello jumped up and — I don’t even really know how it happened. if it was me or the cat and I tried to catch it but I was too late and then it broke and —” you stop and take a shuddering breath that sneaks right into max’s heart.

your voice breaks as you say “and I ruined it.”

max doesn’t say anything at first. just studies you. his eyes soft, expression unreadable. then he reaches up, gently brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” he says quietly

“but—” you go to protest but he just shakes his head, cutting you off, “it’s just a trophy baby” he reassures you, wiping more tears and sitting on the couch. pulling you onto his lap, jimmy jumps off and your head falls into that familiar crook of his neck.

“it’s okay” he soothes, running his hand through your hair slowly.

he lets you calm down a little before saying, “thanks for cleaning my shelf” with a kiss to your head

“didn’t even finish cleaning it. I was too scared” you admit with a little pout lifting your head to look at him. “i’m so so sorry max, really. i’ll win you another one myself if I have to” you say sincerely

“first you break my trophy and now you’re threatening to beat me in a race? who needs enemies when I’ve got a girlfriend like you” max jokes with a click of his tongue.

a breathy chuckle escapes him when you hit his chest with the back of your hand, a little glare on your face as you start to tear up again.

“i’m just kidding baby. my sweet girl. stop crying now please? it’s breaking my heart” he says, kissing your tears away and cupping your face gently.

“it’s okay. it’s just a trophy. I have lots of them. it was an accident and we can fix it. it’s not the end of the world. you’re okay. we’re okay. everything is okay. okay?” he says and you nod, pressing your lips to his softly.

“i love you” you whisper and he smiles, kissing you again.

“i love you more” he says, gently moving you next to him and getting up to grab the food he dropped earlier. somehow its all still perfectly packaged and in place and max starts placing things on the table.

“wanna watch the austria race? we could relive the trophy’s glory days” max jokes as he settles back on the couch, laughing when you throw a pillow his way.

“you’re an ass” you say, kicking his thigh with your foot, but both of you settle into that comfortable silence as you watch tv, the broken trophy long forgotten.

[toutallyahoe]

━ hebrews 9:22 ,, mouthwashing

requested by: –

pairing(s): curly x male reader

word count: 1856

warnings: canon spoilers, cursing, character death(s), attempted murder, murder, deaths oh my god so many deaths help, j*mmy (ew 🤮)

a/n: yeah, im surprised it aint porn too

"Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood..."

Pained laboured breaths left what was once a hopeful man's lips. Well, hopeful was far from what he had become over the years, crippled by the trials and tribulations of what life had put onto him— yet he persevered despite the doubts that ate him whole. Curly persevered despite it all...

But does he still want that?

Laying in the Medical Room's bed without any control of his own body— burnt body— without feeling any sort of pain that he wished he would just die was difficult. Even breathing was difficult but he was forced to do so. Forced to endure. But Curly wanted to die. More than he had wished in the past... but he can't. Forced to lay in bed, feeling helpless as he watched his crew... his friends... descend into madness.

If he could cry, Curly would. The pain of his entire body doesn't hurt as much as the pain and guilt in his chest. Well, Curly thinks so. He doesn't know if the pain in his chest is the guilt of eating him or just the normal pain of being burnt alive to the point his skin is gone. But Curly still felt sick and hopeless. So despaired by it all. Because despite being forced to lay in bed and watch helplessly as everyone descended into madness, Curly knew it was his fault. And it eats him up.

Anya had already said her good bye after she locked herself in the Medical Room with him. Saying how despite everything he had done (or lack there of), she forgave him. Curly tried to talk, to reach out but all it came was garbled mess of croaks and pained wheezes as his throat hurts from the pain. Curly had to watch helplessly as she finally decided to escape the nightmare that came to the Tuplar crew of the Pony Express... to them.

The pain in his chest worsened as Curly could hear a pained screaming echoing throughout the room and it took a second for him to realize who the screamer was. But once Curly realized, his heart dropped as he wanted to cry more. Daisuke showed up in his peripheral vision, looking worse for wear since he had last seen the younger man. Curly wants to cry harder seeing Daisuke all bloodied and hurt, with so many cuts and gashes as Curly realized that in order for Daisuke to come inside the Medical Room despite Anya locking it, it was through the vents that were connected to the Utility Room. The same vents Curly knew was dangerous... fuck.

Curly had believed in the past he was a good captain. The crew in Tuplar sang his praises after all to the point Jimmy always mentions how annoying it was. Curly would have brushed it off like all the times but he knew deep inside he did feel a sense of fulfillment to be called that. A good captain. Because it made him feel like he was actually doing something worthwhile with his life.

But he doesn't believe that anymore.

How can he? Failing Anya despite the trust she placed on him to confess what his friend— what Jimmy had done to her? Where did she have to take things in her own hands? Failing Daisuke from Jimmy's manipulation that the poor young man is now crying from the pain of his injuries as well as he was screaming at Anya to wake up? Failing Swansea where he had to watch the older man lose himself to the little bits of alcohol in the Dragon's Breath mouthwash they were delivering? And worst yet... failing you as he watches the happy man descend into despair along with the crew.

Curly felt useless as he laid there motionless and despaired in bed. He can hear Swansea cursing out as he and Jimmy dragging out Daisuke who was moaning and groaning in pain. He didn't hear Anya anymore... will never hear her voice ever again.

It all was a blur. Time passed by so quickly... not that Curly knows how long it had been. The pain made it hard to focus on his surroundings but he saw someone standing in front of the medical bed. Curly let out a pained croak when he saw it was you. The one who used to be a picture image of a calm and collected crew member of his who had bright eyes that looked at him with love and respect looked frantic yet oh so tired as your dull eyes are red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your sunken cheeks. Lips quivering as you looked down at Curly. There was panic and mania in your eyes. Curly dreaded it.

"Let's rest now," You said, your tone shaky and raspy. You bite your bottom lip to stop your lips from quivering until you tasted blood that grounded you a little bit. "We can rest now, right?" You asked as tears brimmed your vision on what you were about to do. You looked at Curly and gave a smile. A smile that Curly knew was far from genuine. It didn't reach your eyes. Not the same sweet smile you would send him when you two would wake up early in the morning, in bed together. Far from the one Curly is used too. It looks despaired, haunting...

Curly tried to talk, to reach out. But just like Anya, he failed. Like he always does.

"!!!"

Curly wanted to cry when he felt your hands wrapped around his throat. He wheezes in pain as his body thrashes automatically when you squeezed. It hurts! It hurts— but let him die! There were salty tears falling down his bandaged cheek, stinging him as he could see you finally breakdown. Losing it all.

"We can go together! Everyone is gone so let's go together like you said!" You said as a deranged laugh left your lips. "Aren't we in this together, captain? We can rest!" You put more pressure down Curly's throat.

"Please, just stop suffering already!" You wailed as your entire body was shaking. You desperately tried to tune out Curly's pained noises and thrashing as you sobbed. You didn't want to do this— but you had too. No one else was going to put Curly out of his misery. No one is giving your poor captain mercy.

Anya already died, her rotting corpse was beside you, slumped over the floor. Daisuke had his head split open by an axe by Swansea. You were there to witness Swansea put down the young man. You already knew Swansea was dead somewhere around the ship. Especially when you had heard two loud gun shots rang out eerily inside the Tulpar— Jimmy was fucking insane! You knew that oh too well as you watched that monster descend to madness.

You knew you only had so little time to do what you needed to do. To finally put Curly out of his misery because you knew Jimmy wouldn't. You can accept whatever responsibility is left when Curly is gone. Whether Jimmy kills you with a gun or you having time to get the axe and kill Jimmy yourself... it'll be fine as long as you take Curly out of his misery first. Because Curly deserves it.

"Please wait for me," You cried as you looked at Curly through your tears. "I'll be close behind, okay?" You say as you smiled. The blood from your bruised bottom lip stuck to your teeth as you smiled. You look deranged but Curly could only admire you. He wanted this. He wanted to die— to have the suffering end already. Curly just wished it didn't have to be you to put him down knowing how much you loved him.

"I love you," Curly heard you sobbed as black spots formed in his vision. Curly already had trouble breathing after the crash but he can barely gasp for air, not with your hands on his throat, trying so hard to kill him. Slowly, Curly's body stopped thrashing, too weak as the black spots continued on to fill his vision. He can barely see your broken face now.

He was going to die. Curly was going to die... and that's fine.

Curly just hoped you won't suffer painfully before you both are reunited once again in the after life. Hah, when did he even believe in an after life? Curly lost hope of a god existing so many years ago. But if there was a god, Curly hoped they would be kind enough to let him see you again after this. To see the others too. But mostly... Curly just wants to see you—

Bang

Thud

Curly let out a painful gasp as his lungs burned while greedily took a lot of air to fill it back up. His throat hurts so much. If he could tear up, Curly knows he would with his one singular eye left from the pain. Everything hurts. Fuck. It hurts...

Wait.

Pain... was pain part of death? Living was painful and Curly thought death would be more welcoming. Curly would have thought it would be peaceful like when the air was deprived from his lungs as you strangled him. When Curly knew he was dying as his vision darkened. You— where were you? Why was Curly's head ringing so loudly? Was... was he still alive?

Why... why was he still alive?

Why?

Why?

Why?!?

Didn't you promise to take him out of his misery? Was it all a lie? But the pain— the pain in his throat was real! Curly swore it! Where were you? Where were you?!? What happened?!?

Curly found his answer when he saw a shadowy figure where you once stood. Where you should be. And seeing the face of the figure, Curly wanted to cry and scream. Wanted to yell until his throat was raw and burned. Curly wanted to thrash his burnt body and cry.

But he can't. Curly can't...

"It's okay, I saved you," Curly heard Jimmy say. Curly wanted to bitterly laugh at his words. Jimmy didn't save him. Far from it. Jimmy depraved him from his peace! What more can Jimmy take away from him?!? Where were you?!?

Curly could only let the man whom he used to call a friend carry him without much of a fight as he was tired and still processing what everything just happened, wondering where you should have been. Did you chicken out on killing him? Was your love for him too much to kill him? Then where were you then?

Curly looked at Jimmy with dull eyes as he was carried away from the Medical Room. You were nowhere in sight— until Curly saw you... dead on the ground with a puddle of blood around your head... no. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO—

"Don't worry, Curly. I'll fix this..."

"And without the shedding of blood... there is no forgiveness of sin..."

[theemporium]

🧸 max with his daughter when she has a nightmare🥺

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Max was never a heavy sleeper.

Even as a young child, the smallest of noises could wake the boy up. His mother used to say he was a nuisance, that Victoria could sleep through the apocalypse but he would be up and ready when the postman pushed the mail through the door. Maybe it was the racer in him, maybe it was an innate urge to be constantly vigilant even in sleep. But he was just never a heavy sleeper. 

And after your daughter was born, being a light sleeper was a blessing in disguise. 

It was rough, obviously. Waking up in the middle of the night to a small newborn crying wasn’t easy on any set of parents. But Max felt useful for it. You had done more than enough. You had done more than he ever could have asked for. The least he could do was to be the one to wake up in the middle of the night to comfort your daughter, and let you rest. 

It was something that seemed to follow into Claudia Verstappen’s toddler years.

He had just come back from a triple header, eager to spend some time with his family before he was forced to fly out for the next race. The house was quiet and the lights were off when he arrived. He had scratched Jimmy and Sassy on the head when he walked past, took a quick shower before settling into bed beside you, happy to just finally have you in his arms again. 

It hadn’t even been an hour before he heard the screams.

He was up instantly, blinking away the sleepiness in his eyes and scanning the room for the source of the noise. It took a few seconds before he realised it wasn’t coming from inside the room, but instead one down the hall. 

He hadn’t even bothered to slide his feet into slippers before he was racing out the room, a little dazed but the tightness in his chest was his main concern when he realised the noises were coming from his daughter’s room. He barreled through the door, wide eyes taking in the sight in front of him before he realised what was happening.

Claudia was still asleep. She was clenching the sheets, letting out soft whimpers and cries as she jerked around in her bed like something was trying to grab at her. She opened her mouth, a painful cry for help leaving her lips and Max felt every hair on his body rise as he quickly raced over to her side.

“Shhh, Claudia, baby, wake up for me,” he softly called out to her, his hands holding her arms to try and stop her from hurting herself. “Wake up, schatje, it’s just a dream. A bad dream. Come on, Claudia, wake up for me.”

When the girl had finally woken up, it took a few seconds before she realised her father was in front of her, and then she threw herself into Max’s arms. 

Max caught her with ease, his arms wrapping around her protectively as he held her to his chest. He placed a few kisses on the top of her head, placed in between murmurs and whispers that she was safe with him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He whispered when she had finally stopped crying, wiping her teary eyes and snotty nose on his shirt, but he didn’t care. 

Claudia shook her head, sniffling slightly. “No.”

“Was it a monster? You know Daddy will protect you from the monsters,” he said to her, pulling back slightly so he could run his thumbs over her puffy cheeks. 

“It wasn’t a monster,” she whispered, her lips turning downwards. “You were gone. Daddy, I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Hey, hey,” he softly called out to her, seeing the way her shoulders began to shake like she was about to start crying again. “Look at me, schatje. I’m never gonna leave you, okay?”

Claudia nodded.

“You’re my little princess,” Max said to her, lightly poking her stomach until she flashed him a bashful grin. “Who else am I going to spoil?” 

“Mama?” Claudia guessed honestly, staring up at her father with wide eyes.

Max couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Yeah, I like spoiling Mama too. My queen and my princess, that’s what you two are.”

“Does that make you king, Daddy?” Claudia asked, still clinging onto him as she made herself comfortable on his lap.

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he hummed as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Do you think you can go back to bed?” 

Claudia blinked up at him. “Can you stay with me, Daddy?”

“Of course, schatje,” he murmured, and it was almost comical to see him curl up into the little princess pink race car bed she had, but he didn’t care. Claudia nuzzled herself against her father’s side, a small yawn escaping her lips. 

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

.

[wandering-pirate]

Permanent Eclipse

Summary: We saw it all happen from Jimmy's eyes, but what was going through the dying intern's mind during his final moments?

Words: 1.5k

Tags: Angst, heavy angsty angst

TW: Character deaths and gore (mouthwashing being mouthwashing)

a/n: i was inspired (tortured) by this tiktok: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS62aWV9h/

He screwed up. Again.

One chance to redeem himself from all the headaches he caused the whole crew - all down the drain. One chance to save Anya, the person who treated him like a sibling - gone. One chance to make the man he looked up to proud... how he wished to see Swansea smile at something he did, with genuine pride. He'll never be able to see that.

Daisuke's irregular breathing was filling the whole room up, loud and uneven, like the chaos in his head. Regret. Self-loathing. Guilt. And gosh, Anya. He never saw something so empty in his life. Her eyes that used to look at him with warmth and care, were now cold voids.

The gut-clenching pain of the scene twisted harder than his raw and oozing wounds. It didn't matter though, because the only person that could heal him was now sitting lifeless before him. And it was all his fault.

The loud banging of the medbay door snapped him out of his daze. The reason why he climbed the vent came back to him and he limped towards it. The second the lock clicked under his trembling hands, his legs crumpled.

“Hey bud, I got you! What happe--”

“Anya... Anya, she-- she’s--”

One look. Daisuke's brows furrowed, stunned by how the co-pilot didn’t even spare a glance at the nurse's body. His focus solely on finding a spot to lean the wounded intern against.

“I know, I know. Let’s get you cleaned up first, alright?”

Jimmy's arms steadied him, but all the young man could look at was the face of their substitute captain. His pressed lips, the prominent line between his brows, his clenched jaw. Daisuke winced at the pure disappointment silently radiating from him.

He shivered at the cool metal wall Jimmy placed him on. Having a clear view of Anya... and goodness, he forgot about their bandaged captain. What hit him hard was seeing Curly's wide eye transfixed at her, tears were flowing in one continuous stream.

"This might sting, Daisuke, but it'll disinfect your wounds, alright? Just hang in there, bud"

When the mouthwash hit his open flesh, he barely flinched. The sting being a distant feeling perceived by his hazy mind. Receiving the harsh treatment from the co-pilot's hands, Daisuke could not even react. Jimmy worked quickly, but the boy's gaze was glued to Anya. Just lying there. A corpse. Maybe… maybe she wasn’t gone.

Yeah! That's it. Anya was just showing how Swansea and he have acted the past few days with their mouthwash alcoholism. She was just proving a point, right? Just making him have a taste of his own medicine. She'll get up. She'll stop the charade after knowing that Daisuke's hurt... She wasn’t really…

"She's dead, Daisuke. Let's focus on patching you up"

Jimmy cut through him like death's scythe. Cold and unforgiving. His mind wondered why the co-pilot was nonchalant with the whole thing. Maybe he blamed him. There's nothing Jimmy could do because Daisuke failed to save her.

He never even realized how his vision blurred from the tears. Hearing the words he kept denying himself shattered him. Dead. Of course she's dead. And it's all his fault.

His wounds made even the lightest of breaths a battle, the nauseating smell of metal mixed with sweet mint. The guilt clawed at his guts, unforgiving, unrelenting. It was all too much. His body was shutting down.

The last thing he remembered was Jimmy swearing and shouting his name. Yeah, he deserved that, every nasty word thrown at him, he'd take it.

When he woke, he didn’t feel any better. If anything, it was worse. Heat and excruciating pain throbbed under his wounds, radiating out like fire while the rest of him shivered uncontrollably. Every nerve in his body screamed, yet all he could think about was the heavy presence sitting beside him.

Swansea.

Daisuke froze. He wasn't ready to face the man he looked up to. Couldn’t meet the mechanic’s eyes. Daisuke wasn't a shy one nor was he an introvert, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was to dig himself a grave. To hide. To be forgotten. To just.. disappear.

Jimmy’s disappointment was already too much; Swansea’s would destroy him. Daisuke's eyes were closed but his ears were definitely not, and his lips trembled after hearing the older man sigh, deep and gravelly.

"What were you thinking?"

Soft. Too soft. Was it pity? Is it rage masked with calmness? Daisuke panicked. Swansea never used this tone. He yelled, barked orders, always had sarcastic quips. But, not this. This calmness was worse. This calmness meant his mentor had abandoned all hope on him.

"I-I'm sorry..." Daisuke meant it to be a steady apology, but it left his lips in a shaky whisper. He hated how pathetic he was being.

"Look, it ain't yer fault," Swansea rubbed his face. "If anyone is to blame, it's that ass actin' captain this whole damn time."

All those words fell into the fire, burnt into ashes. Daisuke wanted to believe him, but no. Every terrible decision, every wrong turn, it all led back to himself. Anya’s death. His wound. The infection eating away at him.

Every second was agony, it felt like running a marathon just by wiping his tears. Every movement, blades raking through his skin down to the bone.

The world dissolved into a haze, Swansea’s figure reduced to a shapeless blur. Each breath he took felt like dragging shattered glass through his already tired lungs. His thoughts twisted into knots he couldn’t untangle—tight, choking, blaming

It’s all my fault

Home. I just wanna go home. I can’t do this anymore

I should’ve been braver—no, smarter—why wasn’t I smarter? Why did I screw up again?

Anya, I’m sorry. Gosh, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this

I should’ve been stronger, faster. Maybe then… maybe then I could’ve saved you

Swansea… I let you down

Mom, I—Mom, I’m sorry. For everything. For being me. For not being the son you wanted

If only… if only I’d been better. Maybe then none of this would’ve happened

Jimmy and Swansea were arguing but it all blurred into a single incoherent mumble. Every word drifted into a distant echo with the boy's eyelids growing more and more heavy.

For the second time, Daisuke lost consciousness, his body succumbing to the pain. Even in his dreams, his guilt followed him. Denying him rest, plaguing him with nightmares.

His vision blurred after returning to consciousness. His sight flickering in and out of focus. After having some clarity, his eyes met the dull gray metal ceiling, a yellow blob sticking out on his peripheral. He's now reminded of the mechanic's presence. How much time has passed? Did the mechanic stay beside him after all his failures?

The infection, it had to be worse now. It wasn’t just the wound that was tearing at him—it was everything else, unrelenting tidal waves of nausea, the aching, feverish delirium that had him questioning whether he was awake or dreaming.

Daisuke tried to speak, but even a grunt felt like blades were cutting his throat. All he could do was lay there, pathetically, his body too weak to move. Too worn out to ask the mechanic for his forgiveness. It wasn’t just the wound anymore—it was his entire self getting split open from the inside.

He didn’t notice the way his body twitched and jerked. But Swansea saw it all—the tremors in his limbs, the shallow, uneven breaths, the thin sheen of fever-slick sweat on his skin. To anyone with two functional eyes, it was clear: Daisuke’s body was falling apart. Piece by agonizing piece.

"It's alright, Daisuke. Calm down."

The deep voice cuts through the fog. Again with his soft tone, but something was different this time. There was this quiet desperation in the way the gruff man spoke... Was that sorrow?

He opened his eyes, looking up to the mechanic. His senior was furrowing his eyebrows like he usually does, but his eyes. They were mourning.

"You coulda taught an old fool like me a lot"

Daisuke strained hard to understand all the words. He tamed his writhing body, steadied his breathing and kept his half-lidded eyes on Swansea. With every ounce of strength left, he fought to show the man that he was listening.

"Just a damn good kid tryin his best"

It dawned on him - sharp and cold. The man was saying his goodbyes.

"Close your eyes, Daisuke..."

The axehead was above Swansea's head now, and for a moment, Daisuke's thoughts scattered. Was Swansea really going to kill him? He knew he deserved it, but it somehow ached his whole being. It wasn't like the sharp pain from his wounds or the burning fever. It was a numb, suffocating, and heavy kind of ache that sucked him of all his strength.

But even now, with everything crumbling, the intern followed the mechanic's instructions. His lashes fluttered shut, pressing his unshed tears down his fevered cheeks.

Maybe, just maybe, if he got it right this time, he'd finally hear it:

"You did good, kid"

[otissbluebearshirt]

hii can i request “I’m not scared.” “Your face says otherwise.” from the autumn prompt list with mike dodds?🥺 yk like it's halloween season and the precinct gets a lead to some house but when they get there it's decorated like a haunted house (with jumpscares and stuff) so reader is jumpy and mike laughs at her at the time but afterwards he's worried and hugs her and they have a moment and there's fluff etc

Haunted House - [ Mike Dodds ]

Prompt: “I’m not scared.” “Your face says otherwise.”

Word Count: 4654

Warnings: female!reader, use of y/n, mentions of jump scares, brief mentions of dismembered limbs

A/N: this is my first Mike work so please be nice lol

Masterlist | Mike Masterlist

Ever since it fell abandoned back in the late 1800’s, the old Sunnydale Asylum had easily grown legend to many a spooky tale.

From sightings of disoriented patients still clad in their dirty, white gowns, and left to wander halls forever as ghostly apparitions seeking peace. To the spine tingling story of the doctor who once ran the hospital still eager to lobotomise anyone he deemed fit, the asylum had grown to be quite the destination for those with a thrill for scares.

In fact, it became so popular for tourists and city dwellers alike that on every Halloween since before you were born the owners would set up the most intense haunted house inside, leading those who were brave enough to enter on a terrifying, bloodcurdling journey throughout history.

“God, there is nothing sunny about this place,” You muttered, feeling easily unsettled as your eyes landed on the moulding, degrading sign of the asylum.  The very sight of the smiling sun above the name, sent a fierce shiver rippling down your spine and you ran your hands up and down your arms, following Mike reluctantly, yet quickly, down the path before he ended up too far away for comfort. 

You never would have come here willingly. You hated anything even remotely scary and a haunted asylum, filled with actors waiting to pop out on you, was the very last place you ever could have wished to spend your Halloween. You’d wanted to spend it at home, watching something light and fun, but unfortunately for you duty had called in the shape of a case and for some reason…For some, the universe hates me, what did I do to deserve this? Reason, it had led you straight to the very asylum that you never wanted to see with your own two eyes. 

“I hate this already,” You complained, tailing Mike towards the ticket booth that had a line way too long for your liking as who would ever put themselves in such a situation as this if not under threat of immediate death? “Why is this place even allowed to be open? I thought some guy died in it last year.” 

“He fell down the stairs,” Mike replied casually, glancing briefly towards you. “He wasn’t murdered by a ghost.” 

You scoffed, “Yeah, that you know of. But who’s to say a ghost didn’t push him?” 

Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at your dramatic nature as the two of you weaved your way through the crowds of people waiting for their turn inside, many of whom were actually dressed as asylum patients and had the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up already. 

Why, oh why, hadn’t you just gone to the landfill site with Carisi? 

“Excuse me,” Mike said as you approached the ticket counter, gaining the attention of the rather young looking man, dressed as an orderly, who sat behind it. “I’m Sergeant Dodds, this is Detective Y/L/N of the NYPD. We’re looking for a James Santos, we were told he works here.” 

With his mouth hanging open, the ticket guy said nothing for a split second before his reddened eyes widened in realisation and he nodded, “Oh, you mean Jimmy.” 

Okay, so he was high. Great. 

“Yeah, he works here,” The guy continued, yet he didn’t bother to elaborate further until Mike snapped him back into reality with a click of his fingers, startling the kid terribly and causing him to shuffle in his seat. “But, uh, he’s inside. He's one of the actors down in the South Wing… Look for the guy in the straight jacket and the muzzle.” 

“Muzzle?” Mike repeated, curious.

“Yeah, you know… Like Hannibal Lecter,” The guy said, watching as Mike narrowed his eyes a little before shaking his head and the whole thing off entirely. 

It was too late, too cold, and he was far too eager to close this case to bother dumbing himself down anymore by talking to a stoned twenty-something year old. 

“Is there any way you can get Jimmy out here?” Mike asked, yet to you it seemed more like an order than a question. Something you were extremely thankful for as you did not want to go inside there and have to look for a guy impersonating a cannibal.

“Sorry, dude, I wish I could help. But once they’re inside and in costume they’re off the grid as cellphones kinda ruin the vibe.” 

“Well, is there any other way for us to get inside?” You asked hopefully, as you were already twitching minutely at the faint screams you could hear from inside the asylum, therefore you didn’t even want to imagine what you might look like should you be forced to walk through them. “Maybe an unlocked fire exit somewhere?” 

“No, we keep all the fire exits locked from the outside to stop kids from sneaking in,” The ticket guy replied plainly, only tightening the thick rope building in your stomach as if kids weren’t allowed inside…then what the hell kind of horrors lay beyond those doors?

“What about a back door?” You questioned toughly, finding yourself in sudden interrogation mode from the fear you had over venturing inside. “This is an old asylum, there’s bound to be other entrances.” 

“Look, lady…”

“It’s detective,” Mike corrected harshly, his teeth gritted together so hard you were surprised he had any left. 

“Detective,” The ticket guy corrected nervously, his attitude easily shifting as he became all but sober under the weight of Mike’s heavy glare. Even you were taken aback by his sudden harshness, and if it hadn’t been for the gentle, yet brave, pat on the arm you gave him to help him relax, you were afraid he might have launched himself over the counter and supplied the haunted attraction with an extra body to display. “The only other door is all the way around back.” 

“Great,” You said happily, tapping the desk with your knuckles before stepping back. “We’ll go that way then, you mind showing us?”

“It’s a fifteen minute walk through the forest,” The guy added, his eyebrow raised questionably. “Are you sure you want to? I mean… I don’t know if you know this but there’s stories of those woods being haunted…” 

“We’re not walking through the woods,” Mike stated, causing the guy to snap his mouth shut instantly and look away. You did the opposite though, in that you twisted your neck so quickly to look up at him you could have starred as a special performance of Regan from The Exorcist. He saw you easily from the corner of his eye, your mouth gaped like a fish and your eyes hard. “What?” 

“I’m not going in there.” 

“Why?” Mike asked, puzzlement sitting deep in his features until they slowly began to loosen. You, yourself, stiffened, as a smile etched its way onto his face at the sudden realisation of exactly why you would rather walk around through woods than use the front door. “Wait a minute… Are you scared to go inside?” 

“What?” You chuckled delusionally, your tone an octave higher than usual as Mike studied you, nothing but an annoying doubt plastering his otherwise handsome face as he saw right through your facade. You drew your tongue awkwardly over your back teeth as you added, unconfidently, “I’m not scared.” 

“Really? Because your face says otherwise,” Mike replied bluntly, humorously, causing your aforementioned fear riddled face to shift instantly into a frown that he couldn’t help but find ridiculously adorable. He always loved seeing you get all riled up like this. 

“Fine, you wanna go in?” You asked, a newfound wave of bravery coursing through your veins at his obvious smugness. He nodded, his hands on his hips as you stared up at him, your arms folded and your stance firm. “Then let’s go in, sergeant.” 

“Happy to,” Mike said wittily, knowing damn well you did not want to go in and that you weren’t happy with him knowing it either…otherwise, you wouldn’t have called him sergeant. He stepped aside, dropping his hands and motioning for you to go first as a smug smirk rose to his lips, “After you, detective.” 

A disgruntled huff left your nose as you strolled past him, keeping your shoulders high as you put on a brave face in hopes that he couldn’t tell how truly scared you were to go inside. Which wasn’t much, you know, your bones just practically shook beneath your skin as you ascended the steps. Each flickering light that caught your eye or ear piercing scream that met your ears caused your stomach to lurch inside you and if you weren’t careful, it was likely going to force its way up and land in front of you, but other than that you were just peachy. 

“Well, good luck,” The ticket guy called cheerfully after you, causing you to almost spin back around and arrest him. 

However, luckily for him and tragically for you, Mike’s large frame following behind you easily stopped you from turning around, meaning you had no choice but to carry on towards the building. You already felt uneasy. From the mere sight alone of the large double doors that were peeling away and rusty, you knew that what lay beyond was going to be ten times worse than what was outside.

Nevertheless you carried on, reaching the top of the steps far quicker than you’d have liked. You lifted your shaking hand reluctantly, curling it around the handle and sucking in a sickly breath as you mustered up all the courage you had in you to push it open. You could feel Mike lingering behind you, the heat of his body so close to your own yet it didn’t allow you to feel nearly as much comfort as it might have done, not with the horror that stood beyond the door you still hadn’t opened. 

“Oh, you are so scared,” Mike laughed, nudging you playfully with his elbow and finding even more amusement when you shoved him away to the other side of the step. “Do you want me to open it?” 

“No,” You replied, your word a little choked that it caused you to clear your throat roughly. “No. I can do it.” 

You heard Mike hum sceptically as he retreated back to you, yet he did nothing. He just lingered beside you patiently, watching as your focus grew distant and you forced the fear to momentarily leave your mind just long enough to allow you to power through. You took a deep breath, pushing open the heavy door as the air left your lungs in a shudder. 

God, you were already regretting this. From the eerily wailing sound of the hinges creaking open, and the pitch black darkness that engulfed you from the second you stepped across the threshold, you knew this was a bad idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle. But at the same time, you were also stubborn. You didn’t want Mike to win…whatever game it was that you two were playing and even if you hadn’t you still wouldn’t have been able to turn around, not when Mike had already closed the door behind him and was now hidden…somewhere amongst the shadows around you.

You couldn’t sense him. You couldn’t hear him, not with how hard your heart was pounding inside your chest and all the way up to your ears. You couldn’t even feel his usual presence around you either and that worried you. It terrified you, rather, as if there was one thing worse than being in a haunted asylum…it was being in one alone after Mike decided to be a dick and stay outside. 

“Dodds?” You whispered, swallowing thickly at the echo of creepy laughter that swept through the room around you. 

Against your better judgement you then stepped further into the foyer, hoping that at least hearing Mike’s footsteps follow you in would give you a general sense as to his position. But when you heard nothing, not a single peep besides distant screams of those further inside, you began to sweat…Both from your body, and from your eyes.

“Mike, I’m serious,” You said…seriously, and both of you could tell you were as you’d never once had you called him by his first name. “Where are you? This isn’t funny.” 

At the moment a hand clasped onto your shoulder and made you jump so hard you might have cried had Mike not appeared from within the darkness, a knowing, amused, smile tugging at his lips, “Come on, it’s a little funny.” 

“God, you’re such a dick sometimes,” You muttered bluntly, a very real anger towards him building inside you as you shrugged out from under his hand. 

Only, when you went to walk away from him to emphasise that you were huffing with him and would rather go alone, a skeleton swung down from the ceiling right in front of you. You screamed, your heart leaping in your chest as you stumbled back, feeling the firmness of Mike’s chest behind you as he caught you, his hands holding your outer arms gently before you ended up tripping over your own eagerness to run.  

“So, you’re not scared, huh?” He whispered tauntingly into your ear, causing an entirely different sensation to tingle down your spine. You shrugged out from within his grasp again and stepped away, hearing a pleased chuckle leaving his lips as he followed suit and placed his hand back on your shoulder. Only this time, as a way of comfort. “Come on, I promise I’ll keep you safe.” 

With a reluctant, heavy sigh you nodded and allowed him to lead the way as you mumbled, “Great, just a fun trip into an asylum to get killed.” 

Mike laughed, “We’re not gonna get killed.” 

“Maimed.” 

“Y/N/N.”

“Stabbed.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Beaten.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Burned.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What?” You said innocently, watching as Mike struggled to hide his smile at your incessant rambles of the danger that would likely never succumb to you in here. He kept quiet though, as no matter what he said to you about you being perfectly safe with him, he knew it wouldn’t sink into your stubborn mind until you were back in the true safety of the precinct. 

Instead, he simply continued to lead you further into the asylum, constantly checking to make sure you hadn’t passed out behind him each time an actor jumped out to try and startle you both. He was fine with it, a small twitch of his shoulders every now and then but you… You hated every single minute of it. 

It didn’t matter that Mike was at the front and was the primary target of the scare, you still seemed to take the full brunt of it and each time a disturbing, how did he even manage to make himself look like that? actor would pop out from within a locker or lunge out from behind a door, you would scream like a little kid and lurch forward to cling to Mike’s arm. Not that he minded, though. He kind of liked having you this close to him, and each time he’d feel your face press against his bicep as you hid it from view, his heart would literally skip a beat. 

However, as the two of you delved further into the asylum and had yet to come across another jumpscare actor in the last five minutes, you grew uneasy and on edge, and because of that, you did something Mike wasn’t the least bit prepared for… Nor did he even know how to react when you did. 

“Y/N,” Mike said quietly, almost nervously. He heard you hum from next to him, your pitch a lot higher than it should be as he came to a slow stop. You glanced up at him questionably, your eyebrow raised where his was dipped and the way he kept dropping his gaze between your bodies only heightened your sense of intrigue, and so with a partial widened of your eyes you urged him to speak his words. Something you’d regret the second they slipped past his lips. “You’re uh… You’re holding my hand.” 

With your face dropping, you instantly snatched your hand back and looked away from him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as your stomach began to flutter furiously. Oh God, you hadn’t meant to do that. You hadn’t meant to… Shit. You’d only meant to take a subtle hold of the cuff of his jacket with your fingers just to make sure you didn’t get separated, but you were literally so scared of something popping out in front of you that you held his hand.  

“Sorry,” You mumbled, tugging your sleeves down over your hands as you sucked in a shaky breath and tried to force yourself to look back at him. 

You didn’t want to, not by a long shot. You didn’t want to see the cringed look in his eyes over having you hold his hand but you knew you had to. Not only did you want to keep what remaining dignity you had left but you had a job to do and you literally couldn’t stomach where your eyes were facing now… as there was a concerningly realistic decapitated head sitting in a pool of blood next to you and it was making you want to reach out and take Mike’s damn hand again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike replied as casually as he could, watching as you turned around and smiled at him…a proper, genuine smile that could strike a man smitten had he not been so already. He could have kissed you. Hell, he was going to, had he not spotted the opportunity of a lifetime sitting just off to his right. “I get that these things can be scary and if you really want a hand to hold, I’d be more than happy to provide you with my own.” 

With your heart literally skipping beats inside your chest, you were about to happily take him up on the offer before he slowly raised a severed hand, wiping your smile away far quicker than it had formed. 

“Or if you’d rather… I can offer you this one instead,” Mike said, rolling his lips as he struggled to not laugh at his own cheesy joke. 

You simply deadpanned him, folding your arms across your chest and refusing to even acknowledge the hand he held out towards you.

“Oh come on, lighten up…” Mike chuckled, wiggling the hand a little to gain your attention — which failed. “It’s funny.” 

“You and I have very different definitions of the word funny,” You muttered, spinning on your heels and deciding to venture further into the asylum by yourself. 

You made it a few steps before you heard a soft thud from behind you, no doubt from Mike tossing the hand aside as it was quickly followed by his hurried footsteps as he caught up to you. He fell in line with you easily, continuously peering at you out of the corner of his eye and when you kept glancing around you anxiously with one hand placed firmly on your churning stomach and the other hanging loosely by your side, he reached out his own and slipped it back into yours without so much as saying a word. 

The two of you stayed like that, with your hands clasped firmly together and your chests fluttering furiously beneath your skin, until you finally reached the room you needed to be in — the operating room. It was basic. As stereotypical as any hospital room in any horror movie could be but there was something about the lonely hand trolley that stood in the middle of the room, with a single man dressed like Hannibal Lecter strapped to it, that very deeply unsettled you.

“This is not a good use of this room,” You whispered, hearing a brief, almost amused…maybe, breath leave Mike’s nose as he slipped his hand out from yours and approached the Hannibal wannabe. 

You stayed behind, not wanting to go anywhere near him just yet until it had been established that they were not there for the scares, and were in fact cops who were investigating a brutal double homicide…Otherwise you simply wouldn’t have been there in the first place. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, as Mike came strolling back over to you with a deep look of guilt sitting heavy on his face. 

“That’s not him,” Mike said, swallowing thickly as he had no idea how you’d react to the news. You squinted questionably, prompting him to elaborate even further. “That uh, that’s not James.” 

“What do you mean? He’s the only guy in this whole place dressed like that!” You exclaimed, gesturing angrily towards the guy who had better turn into James before you got a hold of him. 

“They swapped shifts,” Mike explained, placing his hands on your shoulders to gain your attention and feeling as they rose rapidly beneath them. “James was never here.” 

With a frustrated groan, you shoved Mike’s hands away from you and made for the exit. He followed after you swiftly, jumping more at the way the door banged against the wall as you threw it open than he did at the countless horror actors who’d just spent the last twenty minutes popping out at him.  

“You’re telling me that I just went through all that…” You pointed furiously towards the asylum as your turned in the dirt with so much pressure put on your heels, that it made little dents in the dirt. “And the guy wasn’t even fucking in there!” 

“Wow, hey…” Mike exhaled, taken aback by your sudden swearing as he approached you carefully, your hands on your hips and your chest heaving with every breath you took. 

At first, he thought it was from nothing more than anger at the entire situation. Having your Halloween ruined by work… Having to drive here so late at night… Having to venture through a ridiculously cheesy haunted house set up in an otherwise creepy asylum, but the closer he got to you… the moment he saw the first glisten of the moonlight in the fresh tears that brewed in your eyes, the more he came to realise that you weren’t angry. 

No… You were scared. You were really, truly terrified that whole time and he had no idea. He thought… He thought you were just messing around. He thought it was all a game, but he literally couldn’t have been farther from the truth and honestly, it made him feel like such a dick for all but making fun of you for it. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Mike said softly, his lips pressing together regretfully as he closed the gap between you, his brow pinched together with worry. “I had no idea, I thought… I thought you were just messing around. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” You sniffled, feeling like such a pathetic child for almost crying over a stupid haunted house. “You didn’t know. You… It’s fine. Really, Mike, I’m okay now.” 

“Are you though?” Mike questioned doubtfully, watching as you nodded your head with uncertainty a few times… before shifting and immediately shaking it as you were not okay. Not by a long shot. He then raised his hands and cupped your face instantly, his heart warming at how easily you seemed to relax under such a small gesture. 

At that immense softness that shrouded your features as you smiled tearfully up at him, Mike couldn’t stop himself from dropping his hands and pulling you into the safety his arms, allowing you to feel as they wrapped around you so tightly…so comfortingly that the last twenty minutes became nothing but a distant thought in your mind. Your own slipped under the warmth of his jacket and around his waist, holding him equally as tight and as close to you as you could as you all but melted against him.

You weren’t aware of just how long he held you like that. Time seemed to tick idly by without you having so much as a care in the world, not when you were here in his arms where he allowed every ounce of fear and worry to leave you entirely. It was strange… Unrealistic almost, how one simple touch from one specific person could make you feel so much better than ever thought possible. But he did. Mike made you feel better. He made you feel safe…like nothing would ever happen to you again and it was because of that…because of that sudden realisation that kicked in in your mind that you did what you did next. 

When he inevitably pulled back from you, just enough for him to glance down at you, you slipped your hands out from around him and curled your fingers tightly around the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer to your face so that you could do the one thing you’d been dying to do for weeks, and might never have found the courage to had he not hugged you. 

You kissed him. 

You pressed your lips so tenderly, so sweetly against his own that his knees almost gave out from under him even despite how quick the moment had come and gone. But it was slow enough to get Mike going and he steadied himself easily, his arm slipping securely around your waist as he brought you closer to him. You could already feel your heart racing as he placed one hand on the side of your neck and brought you towards him, his lips crashing against yours in a way that had you seeing stars, and not those that you could see in the sky just above him. 

You tightened your hold on the front of his jacket to keep him close to you, feeling the way his hand slid slowly round to the back of your head where his fingers began to weave their way through your hair as he cradled it. His tongue traced eagerly over your bottom lip as he did so, pushing them apart as it delved deep into your mouth, causing such sweet sounding hums to leave the back of your throat as he easily deepened the long, overdue kiss that the two of you never wanted to end.

“God,” Mike breathed out, when the two of you inevitably had to pull apart due to a stupid thing called oxygen, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” 

“There was nothing stopping you, sergeant,” You said flirtatiously, dragging your bottom lip through your teeth as there was nothing causing you to be shy anymore. Not when he’d just stuck his tongue down your throat and answered all the lingering questions you could ever have about whether or not he’d have ever liked you back. “You could have kissed me like that any time you liked.” 

Mike chuckled, drawing his thumb down the softness of your kiss swollen lips, “I don’t think the guys would have liked seeing me kiss you like that in the middle of the squad room.” 

“Maybe not,” You murmured humorously, leaning up to press another gentle kiss to his lips. “But then again, we’ve all seen worse.” 

“True,” Mike replied, pecking another kiss to your mouth as it curled against him. “But I’d rather not have the whole team watching us as we did.” 

“You’d rather have an asylum full of freaks instead?” You questioned, your eyebrow raised playfully as Mike glanced towards the building and shrugged. 

“If that’s what it takes,” He said, drawing his eyes back to you and trailing his knuckles down the side of your face. “As after all…had it not been for that asylum full of freaks then I might have had to wait a whole other year for sometime to scare you badly enough to make you kiss me.”

Like Mike? Apply to his tag list here so you don’t miss out on his works!

Like my work? Consider buying me a coffee!

[watcheraurora]

Let Me, This Time

I have hurt myself with this idea for too long. It was inspired by ezzrrin's "Traitor" animatic. Go watch it if you want to watch Sad Block People set to a song I listened to like 60 times in a row afterward and got passive-aggressive popups from Spotify about it 2.5k words

I had a bet with @infernafiresword that I could make this under 5,000 words and still have some sort of emotional impact... I... succeeded on the word count... whether I succeeded on the emotional impact is up to reader response XD

—

Jimmy's eyes snapped open, but it made no difference. He was surrounded by darkness. Void. Floating weightless.

No. Not floating.

Falling!

He shouted in alarm and flipped over so he was looking down wherever he was falling and spread his—

Wait.

Where were his wings?

He looked over his shoulder.

He was still in his superhero jumper. With the S on the front. Not the loose blue collared shirt and the white T-shirt under it. And no wings protruding from his back. No slits in the jumper to allow them through.

He looked back down toward where he was falling.

"What's happening?!" he shouted.

He couldn't see anything but void. He couldn't see if he was going to hit anything. If there even was anything to hit.

"TiiiiiIIIIIMMMMM!" The cry crescendoed.

Wham!

Something solid smashed into him and he went tumbling, screaming and scrambling against whatever had hit him.

"Stop it! It's me!" Grian's voice snapped.

"Grian?! What are you doing?!"

"Saving you, idiot!"

"From what?"

"No time to explain! Just hold my hand!"

They leveled out, no longer tumbling rear-over-teakettle through some gravity well. Just floating, weightless, in the nothingness.

"Wait—how come you still have your wings?" Jimmy demanded. "Where have mine gone?"

"They were temporary. Granted to you while you served their purpose. While you bore their curse. Out here, the curse can't hold on as easily."

"Who is they?!"

Grian's face sobered up. "You know exactly who they are."

"Excuse me? I do not!" Jimmy declared stubbornly.

Grian's eyes—huge and black—flickered. A purplish glimmer revealing square pupils. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

Something formed over his face. Black silk—with a purple symbol emblazoned in the center.

A broken Nether portal.

Jimmy's throat closed up and his chest tightened like a giant had him in its fist.

As quickly as he saw the mask over Grian's eyes, it was gone.

"The Watchers?" he breathed.

His own mask, burnt in a cave on a brand-new world, Martyn shouting for him to hurry up after his had gone up in smoke...

"Yes! They're behind all of this. These death games—the gimmicks. You never escaped them! They let you leave Evo—they let you think you got away! They bided their time!" Grian exclaimed.

"Well what about you, then?" Jimmy demanded. "You escaped!"

"They took me, Jimmy!" Grian spat, angry and bitter.

Jimmy blinked. "Wh... what?"

Grian's wings flared—and Jimmy finally processed them. They weren't the scarlet macaw wings he'd grown used to seeing, bound to Grian's back during the death games.

They were black, and they glinted purple in the void.

And they were much larger than Jimmy remembered.

Grian's body flickered. Instead of a red jumper and grey trousers, he was clad in a long, flowing black robe. His hands were as black as the void, fading back to fair at the wrists—

He was back as he'd always been. "Now hold my hand," Grian snapped.

Jimmy took it without arguing. "What was that?"

"They took me. After the dragon fight. They told you, after you beat your dragon fight. That they were taking me to be one of them. By the looks of things, they took those memories when they deposited you here."

"One of them? You mean you're a—"

"A Watcher? Yeah. But a converted one. Which makes me... different. It's complicated. Now shut your eyes."

"But—"

"Tim. Unless you want to vomit, I'd recommend shutting your mouth."

Jimmy's teeth clicked shut.

"Eyes too."

He closed his eyes.

With a ssstrrreeetch and a snap! of gravity, Jimmy was blinded by sunlight.

His mouth was already closed, but he felt like he might vomit anyway. He retched and dry heaved for a moment. "Yeah there's nothing in your stomach," Grian remarked blandly. "All better?"

Still lightheaded and not better, Jimmy nodded anyway.

"Sit with your head between your knees and breathe while I fetch everyone else."

Jimmy didn't argue as Grian vanished. Just followed instructions.

Slowly, the other members of the server appeared around him with Grian, in various states of warp-sickness. Joel disappeared around a mound for five minutes. Etho was completely unbothered, despite Bdubs hanging off his shoulder, looking green. Scott swayed on his feet but maintained his composure. Scar flopped face-first onto the grass immediately. Pearl seemed relatively normal, quietly talking Cleo through the worst of the nausea.

Tango collapsed to his hands and knees, breathing hard. He caught sight of Jimmy and crawled over before resting the back of his thighs on his heels, still folded over. "Hey," he greeted raspily.

"Hi," Jimmy replied.

Martyn appeared last, red in the face and arguing with Grian. "—what about Netty, then?!"

"I can't find her!" Grian spat back. "I've been looking! She must be in a game right now, not the void!"

"Boys!" Lizzie snapped, her usually-sweet voice going hard and catching everyone's attention. Poking out of harsh tears in the back of her shirt were a pair of ragged, half-formed yellow wings. Too short and sparse of feathers to actually let her fly. "Stow it! Grian, what's going on?"

"I'm trying to get you all away from extra-dimensional, eldritch beings called Watchers."

Martyn's red face went pale just hearing the name, even though he obviously already knew what was happening.

Tango's warm hand rested around Jimmy's wrist. "You okay, buddy?" he asked.

"I..."

"You know what he's talking about?"

"I do, yeah. I never told you about Evo much, did I?"

"No."

"It's a long story. But the Watchers were there. They... we thought we got away." He looked over at BigB, who was wide-eyed and holding onto Pearl's wrist. She had his arm in her other hand. "We thought we escaped them. We... we didn't, apparently."

"What's the big deal?" Tango asked.

Grian's eyes snapped to him. "Watchers feed on misery, hatred, anger—the worst of mortal emotions. And—"

"And death," Martyn added. "The lifeforce a player gives off when they die. It's why they made the games. The gimmicks. So we'd kill each other and hate each other. So they can eat. Feast, even. We're a farm to them." His tone was disgusted and bitter—livid beyond reason.

Jimmy met Grian's eyes, asking a question without saying anything. Something he could only do after years of knowing him. Do you?

Yeah. Grian twitched his brows. Try not to. But yeah.

"So what's the plan?" Impulse asked.

"Let's take 'em!" Skizz exclaimed.

"We can't," Grian said. "They're too powerful. They'd just throw us back in the void. The best we can do is really get away from them now that we're out of their Sight."

"How are we?" Martyn challenged. "They can See everything."

"Don't be stupid. Of course they can't. Not everything. We're at the furthest edge of the universe I could find. We're too far away. They have a range. As long as we stay out of it, we're safe," Grian said. He turned back to everyone else. "We split up. Run to other worlds. We keep moving. Assume nowhere is safe. There are only a few Watchers compared to how many of us there are. Hide in crowds if you can. Hub worlds, mini-game worlds. That sort of thing. Whitelists and firewalls don't stop them. They slip right through the code. For those of you that are codeshifters, don't assume taking a new form will keep you safe from their Eyes. Don't anyone assume that setting your spawn somewhere will last. One death, you end up back in the void. Back in their games. Maybe you won't, but assume you will. Stay alive at all costs. This is ultra hardcore, now. Creative mode in worlds that allow it won't save you. Be safe."

Tango's hand on Jimmy's wrist tightened.

Grian's wings flared and a ripple of purple power burst out of him, swamping everyone in particles. Jimmy coughed and spluttered on them. His free hand scraped at his tongue, trying to get the taste of grapefruit(?) off.

He heard his friends crying out, shouting—Martyn and Skizz swore in almost eerie unison—

—

Jimmy blinked.

A mini-game towered over him, way up into the sky, casting its shadow on the ground.

"That was quite the light show. I think Grian's been holding out on us!" a voice said, almost too cheerful.

Jimmy looked down.

Tango was still folded up, but slowly straightening. When he released Jimmy, purple magic particles drifted down from where they'd been touching. Tango's red eyes tracked a particle that drifted down. "We probably weren't supposed to end up in the same place," he remarked. "But I'm glad we did."

"Yeah... me too." Jimmy peered around. "Public mini-game world."

"Seems like it." Tango looked around too, climbing to his feet. "Oh hey. There's a Bedwars arena! Xisuma invented that game! You met Xisuma, right?"

Xisuma. A codeshifter, a voidwalker—and also Hermitcraft's Admin. "Once or twice," he said. "I think I knew he invented Bedwars." He wasn't entirely sure, but that sounded familiar. He stood himself. "We should keep moving."

"Right, right," Tango said. He extended a hand. "Stick together? I'd hate to lose my Rancher in the chaos."

Jimmy nodded and took Tango's hand. "Hold on tight."

They headed for the hangout hub of the mini-game world, following magenta glazed terracotta arrows in the ground and signs.

"What happened to your wings?" Tango asked.

"I'm not the canary anymore," Jimmy said. "I guess. Grian said something about the curse's grip being weaker in the void."

"Weird. I thought those kind of code changes were permanent."

"Me too. Apparently not."

"I mean... Grian did say eldritch. They could be powerful enough for things like that," Tango mused. "But adjusting player codes without them already being fluid codeshifters... I've looked into the Source Code a little. That kind of mod requires a lot more computing power than most of us keep with us." He started muttering under his breath about coding that meant nothing to Jimmy.

Then slowed down. Both his muttering and his feet.

"Hey. Tell me about Evo."

Jimmy did, spending the rest of the walk detailing his memories.

—

Several weeks passed. Jimmy and Tango found out, from hopping to busy public worlds and bumping into the other Lifers, that they were the only ones who stuck together. Cleo even actively encouraged them to go their separate ways, for their safety. Tango and Jimmy thanked them for the advice, but ultimately chose not to heed it.

They tried to stay positive. To be energetic. To encourage one another.

But, after a few weeks, they got tired. They wore themselves out with the running.

They paused on a public world and wandered what must have been thousands of blocks away from spawn. While they moved, they got some wool and wood for beds. Jimmy went about making beds and finding some food while Tango constructed a small shelter to keep them safe from mobs at night. Nothing fancy but more than a dirt hut. It was a plank hut.

The thing about players was that they didn't get sleepy. They could grow fatigued from exertion, but never really wanted to sleep the way villagers did. Sleeping was purely a choice.

But Jimmy and Tango started feeling like they needed some sleep. Running, running, running with no stopping left them exhausted.

Jimmy placed down the beds in the hut. The sun was going down.

"Ready for some sleep?" he asked.

Tango nodded. "Ready."

"Should we keep watch? Trade off?"

"Honestly, I think if we did, we'd fall asleep while on watch. We're thousands of blocks away. We might have time to just sleep a whole night through."

Jimmy nodded. "Okay."

They burrowed down under the covers. The fire in Tango's hair flickered out and he was asleep before his head touched the pillow. Jimmy shuffled around for a bit longer, looking for a new comfortable sleeping position now that the weight of his wings were gone.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook him and he dropped off too.

—

BWMMMMM!

Jimmy sat bolt upright. "Tango!" he exclaimed.

Tango roused slowly. "Hmm?"

"We have to go—now!" He hurled himself out of bed and yanked on his sneakers, the only things he'd taken off to sleep.

"Wh... why? What's the prob—"

BWMMMMM!

Tango sat up. "What was that?"

"Watchers. Moving fast. The only reason we can hear them is because we've been near them for the Games."

Tango launched out of bed and shoved his feet into his boots. "Let's go!" He broke the beds and put them both in his inventory, his axe appearing in his free hand. "Come on."

Jimmy took his outstretched hand and together they ran out of the plank hut. He put his sword in his hand, to match Tango's axe.

"What do we do?" Jimmy asked in a panic. "We need to world-hop."

Tango swallowed. "We can't world-hop this far from spawn," he said. "We have to get closer."

"If we turn around, we're just going to cross the Watchers' path faster!" Jimmy exclaimed.

"I know," Tango ground out around a clenched jaw. He looked over his shoulder at the night sky. Mobs were spawning and they were starting to run into them, dodging zombies and ducking skeleton arrows. "We have to go in... we have to go in one huge circle. Keep them behind us until we can get close enough to spawn to hop somewhere else."

Jimmy started to breathe hard. Not just from the running. "Tango... Tango, we're not gonna outpace them."

The night sky was getting brighter at an alarming rate. But the light was purple and it wasn't the dawn. It was the building light of something getting closer. The Watchers on the move.

"How can we?" Jimmy continued, despair lacing his tone. "We're on foot and we're Players. We can't dodge mobs and Watchers at the same time. We'll never make it to spawn in time! This is doomed. We're gonna—"

Tango yanked them both to a stop under a thick canopy of leaves.

“Jimmy. You have to kill me.” His red eyes burned as they stared Jimmy down, squeezing his hand.

“What? Tango, no! Why?”

Tango looked through the leaves toward the purple light. “Because the energy I’ll give off as I die will sic the Watchers on me. My death will give you time to run. To get off-world.”

Jimmy's warm hazel-brown eyes were wide. “No!”

Tango swallowed. They didn't have time to argue.

“Let me be the canary this time, Jim.”

He stowed his axe in his inventory and grabbed Jimmy’s wrist. Of the hand Jimmy was holding his sword with.

Tango plunged Jimmy's sword into his own gut.

“TANGO, NO!”

Tango was slain by SolidarityGaming

His body collapsed. Jimmy took off running.

Grian said one death would put them back in the Watchers' void between Death Games. There was no hope of finding Tango back at spawn.

Through his tears, Jimmy kept running.

Let me be the canary this time, Jim. Tango's words followed him through the woods.

[urapunk]

(TW; mentions of self harm and vomiting.)

A Gary Smith writing that I made, and'll probably make more of.

People Dont Consider Me a Tradgedy And I Wish They Did

It's funny how alike he is to Petey. He's no different, he gnaws his nails quietly in class and listens to conversations around him because its embarrassing to start a conversation other than being the one spoken to. But thats a lie. He's just nervous and it tastes bittersweet and disgusting in his mouth like straight syrup.

But he cant even get better. He just cant. And so in the back of the ambulance with his snapped arm and new cuts from glass, he found himself crying. Crying for once. He's going to be fixed up and.. And well.. Sent away. Three months they said. Thats an entire summer. A summer in a looneyhouse and then its right back to the hell of bullworth if his grandpa decides to offer enough money. Those same faces. Those same, disgustingly familiar faces that he knows are staring. They're always looking, looking and looking and looking.

The EMT can see the cuts lacing his arms up and down until they get to his upper arm, because they feel even worse there and he doesnt hate himself so much as to make it sting even worse.

But he still does it. Theres atleast 12 cuts on his upper arm and they were all from really bad times. Times he's repressed and forgotten, times that make him want to rip his arm off and grow a new one, times that make him vomit from the anxiety of them happening again.

The lights are so bright in the roof of this death van. They hurt his eyes so bad, and he's sure his ankle is broken or wrist is shattered. He doesnt even know its his arm yet. Why didnt he just get Jimmy kicked out instead? Did he have to take over bullworth? Couldnt he just... Couldnt he just talk.

But he doesnt know how. He babbles like a small child when it comes to his stupid emotions because what are they. They all feel the same, his heart races, his face contorts, and thats it. Thats only how it feels and it will never feel different, and thats only the literal sense. They can either make him feel like hes driving a bumpy road or they can feel like his guts are spilling out so disgustingly in his lap.

It doesnt stop, and when they give him a therapist in happy volts itll still be the same. His therapist would ask him questions, like 'what caused this for you,' or 'why'd you do it?'...

'Why'd you do it?'

'Why'd you do it gary!'

And thats when he let out a loud, frustrated groan of pain.... He couldnt hear the sirens. Where had the sirens gone? Why couldnt he hesr the ambulance that he was in-?

He noticed he was wrong. He wasnt in it. He was now in a hospital bed, light beaming through the curtains and illuminated the cast on his right arm.

The cast. The cast that would restrict him. He was restricted now. Restriction is a bitter word. He doesn't like it because it specifically restricts him. Restrict, restrict, restrict.

It hit him that he had just woken up. He disnt remember falling asleep, maybe they out him out because he was writhing too much or- crying. Did he cry? Was he crying? He shouldnt have been crying. But nevermind that. He had obviously woken up from something frustrating him and he had no clue what it was. Maybe its best he doesnt remember.

It wasnt much longer in the day when he was checked into happy volts. He felt sluggish, and he quickly recognized the disgusting, stomach churning 'calm' of medication. His therapists all said the same things throughout those 3 months. Each time he was first meeting them he'd do a survey; with one question that stumped him every time, not matter how many times it was explained. 'Are panic attacks frequent? On a scale of one to 10, how bad do your attacks get?'

What is a panic attack. His therapists all just gave him the same answer, but he was searching for one that really set it up in him. He underatood it, a little, but it was like the knowledge of the ocean. It has fish and is very deep; it's emotional and very scary.

The thin mattress he slept on was annoying, and he couldnt tell if it made his slouch better or worse. He didnt have to wear one of those stupid gowns, they gave him a nice blue sweatshirt and white sweatpants with...

Grippy socks.

It made him want to die the amount of times he tried to slide down the hall only to remember, these arent normal socks. They have GRIP to them. He'd nearly fallen a less than safe amount of times. He couldnt even be childish, he had to be reduced to a 'calm' medicated zombie that felt sick all the time.

The clothes were comfortable though, the bed was.. Okay, but the showers were awful. He didnt feel clean. It never got hot enough to help him feel soft and fuzzy.

And it reminded him that he'd never wipe away the punches thrown at him over the years.

But that was for his therapist to hear, only because she was paid to. He's talk to his grandpa when he got home, but.. His grandpa wouldnt want to hear that. He wouldnt want to hear about how his grandson fought more than he should. That his grandsontried to take over the school and broke his arm in the process, that he fought ontop of bulworth academy and his last name would be slandered now. They shared nothing but the word Smith sometimes.

When he finally got out his grandpa had brought him clothes to change unto before leaving, a soft white tshirt and black cargo jeans, and a dark green jacket. He loved that jacket so much. It was like the perfect shade, the color that was the embodiment of gary! When he finally settled in the car he noticed his grandfather gripped the wheel angrily.

"So why'd you do it Fish?"

'Why'd you do it?'

'WHY'D YOU DO IT GARY!'

That made him wanna hurl. He couldnt stop thinking of Jimmy when anyone asked, but hearing it from his grandpa was sickening. Especially with the nickname he had aince a boy. He always loved aquariums and fish and all to do with fishing, so papa called him Fish, or just... Gary.

His grandpa was met with silence... And it did worry him. A little bit. But there wasnt room for worrying about gary now.

"Fish, tell me." He wasnt spitting venom out alongside his words, but more like a bittersweet syrupy medicine thats overly sweetened, the kind you'd take as a child and wanna throw up after.

"I dont know."

...

[judgementdayslittle]

Can you do one where reader has an encounter with the OG Bloodline? Like when TJD and Bloodline were supposed to team up

Sorry this took so long! Trying to get back into the swing of things.

-Your were, of course, nervous to meet The Bloodline. They looked so scary on TV!

-Your caregivers assured you that it would all be okay and they won't lay a finger on you. And you believe them, because anyone who would date hurt The Judgement Day's babies were in for a world of pain!

-Still, you did feel nervous. Though those nerves calmed down when Mami found a llama toy for you and Dom to play with!

-You were having so much fun playing and cuddling up to Mami, you didn't even notice when Roman, Jimmy, Solo, and Paul Heyman entered the room.

-When you did, you instantly jumped off the couch and ran to hide behind Papi.

-Papi chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair. Comforting you gently.

-"It's okay sweetheart. You know they wouldn't dare hurt you. Right?" Damian gave them a glare at that last part.

-You slowly poke your head out to look at them. Giving them a little wave.

-Roman and Jimmy give you a smile. Paul is too busy handling business, and Solo is... Well, he's Solo.

-You're placed back on the couch with Dom while they start talking business. It sounds boring, so you time out.

-You and Dom play with the llama and some of your other toys for a while, until you see a shadow hover over the two of you. It's Jimmy.

-He starts asking you two what you're doing, and you shyly show him your toys. Luckily, he seems nice and invested!

-A little later, Mami said she wants to talk to Heyman, alone. But you wanna stay with Mami! So you whine and hug her tightly, like a koala!

-She very quickly relents and let's you sit on her lap while she talks to Paul.

-He looked confused, but Mami kept warning him to pay attention to her, not you.

-Your mostly zone out again, just happy to be with Mami. But when you hear Mami tell Paul to 'Acknowledge me' you laugh and turn to Paul to say "Acknowledge Mami!"

-Causing Mami to laugh and give you a big kiss on the cheek! Leaving a lipstick mark.

-"You heard the little one." She would say proudly.

-In the end, Mami called you her big helper! Even though things would still of gone to plan no matter what, Mami still saw you as her good luck charm!

[arc852]

Comfort From the Storm

Summary: Jimmy has learned to love the annual thunder storm the college gets. Tango, on the other hand, is terrified of storms. Jimmy decides to do something about that.

Warnings: slight fear

Word Count: 2086

AO3 Link

We get to see some more of Jimmy and Tango bonding! There might be another one of these smaller fics showing the two getting to know each other more but otherwise the next big fic will be Jimmy finally meeting Imp and Skizz! But until then, I hope you enjoy!

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

 Jimmy had honestly been waiting for the annual summer storm to begin. He wasn’t sure if it was the same everywhere (it wasn’t, according to Grian and Joel) but around here, and without fail, there was always a storm that started the summer off.

 Jimmy was currently hanging out with Tango, as they now tended to do on Mondays. They had quickly learned that while Grian and Joel both had classes on Mondays, Tango didn’t. And even better, Impulse also had classes on Mondays, so it was a good time for Jimmy to go over to Tango’s dorm in order for the two to hang out.

 Jimmy rested his head against the window, body curled up on the windowsill as he stared out into the storm. The sight was familiar, as he tended to find a place to watch the storm every year. The clouds were dark, making the already dimming evening become night far too early. The only source of natural light coming from the occasional lightning dancing through the clouds. That was Jimmy’s favorite part.

 The rain was another favorite of Jimmy’s and he watched as it pelted against the window, coming down fast and hard. And finally, the thunder, loud and consuming as it bellowed for everyone to hear. When he had first come to the college, the thunder had scared him. It was too loud, too scary. Jimmy hadn’t known what was happening and had been expecting the worst.

 He hadn’t been able to sit still and let whatever bad thing happen though, which is what led him to finding a window in an unoccupied room to peer outside. And from there, he hadn’t been scared anymore. Seeing the storm had not only amazed him but calmed him. The steady noises, even if loud, had turned soothing once he could see the origin of them.

 Jimmy let out a deep breath, a relaxed one as he simply stared up into the sky. Though he tore his gaze away as he heard the door to the room open. He looked over to see Tango coming back in, a bag of food in hand. Apparently the driver had trouble finding Tango’s dorm, so Tango had to go to the dorm lobby to go and meet him. During the five minutes Tango had been gone, the storm had grown from a simple downpour to the thunder and lightning storm it was now.

 “M-Man, the storm’s really picked up.” Tango said, more to himself as he toed off his shoes. He looked up and his eyes widened when he saw Jimmy sat on the windowsill. “Jimmy! What are you doing up there?!” Tango asked, putting the bag of food down on his desk as he quickly made his way over to the window and Jimmy. His hands reached out but paused before they could get too close. Despite the talk they had, Tango still had some trouble physically interacting with Jimmy at times.

 Jimmy looked up at Tango with his head titled in confusion over Tango’s tone. He seemed almost panicked for some reason. “Oh, I climbed up here as soon as I heard the thunder.” Jimmy said with a smile, looking back out the window as the rain continued its heavy downpour. “I love watching thunder storms, they're so calming.”

 “C-Calming?” Tango repeated, incredulousness thick in his tone. “I don’t know if I would say-” Tango was suddenly cut off by a loud bout of thunder. He let out a terrified squeak and that was all the warning Jimmy got before he was cupped between Tango’s hands and pulled close to his chest. As soon as Tango had a hold of Jimmy, he had backed far away from the window, practically huddling against the opposite wall.

 Jimmy blinked, though he was used to being grabbed out of nowhere, he was caught off guard by Tango being the one to do so. Still, even with it being mostly unintentional, Tango hadn’t fully trapped him in a fist. Instead, he was cupped between Tango’s hands, free to move even if it was still limited.

 He looked up and saw only the bottom of Tango’s face but even so, he could feel the shaking in the hands that held him. It was easy to see that Tango was scared. “Tango? Hey, it’s okay. It’s just thunder.” Jimmy said, trying to calm the human down.

 Tango looked down at Jimmy, his eyes wide with fear that was quickly covered up by the realization of what he had just done. “Oh! Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

 “It’s okay, Tango. You know I don’t mind.” Jimmy reassured him. It was slow progress in getting Tango comfortable in holding him and such but even slow progress was progress. 

 Tango bit his lip. “R-Right.” Tango said. A moment later there was a flash from the lightning striking through the clouds outside. Tango tensed again, eyes wide and staring out the window and Jimmy noticed Tango’s hands moving ever so slightly closer to his chest. Jimmy hummed. It was strange seeing a human so scared.

 “Are you scared of thunder storms?” Jimmy asked, despite having reasoned out the answer.

 “Well, I…” Tango trailed off, seemingly embarrassed. A moment later, thunder rolled through the skies again and Tango full body flinched. He froze as he realized he had just given himself away. “...Maybe.”

 Jimmy smiled softly at Tango, trying to show him there was no reason to be embarrassed about it. “It’s okay. I used to be too.” Jimmy said, causing Tango to look back down at him. “But then I found a way to watch the storm and I felt a lot better about it.”

 Tango bit the inside of his cheek, cheeks still flushed red. “I just…I’m 23 years old! I shouldn’t be scared of a dumb thunder storm.” Tango walked a bit closer to the window again, looking out at the heavy downpour and dark clouds with a wince. “I know it can’t hurt me and yet…” Tango watched the outside with wide eyes before having to tear them away.

 Jimmy hummed and looked between Tango and the storm outside. There had to be something he could do to help Tango feel better…

 Briefly, Jimmy remembers a long forgotten memory. Of himself as a kid and of his parents. He remembers thunder-like noises shaking their house and being terrified of them. And he remembers his mom and dad holding him close, comforting him as they passed the time by telling stories.

 Jimmy closed his eyes for a moment, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden memory before it passed as quickly as it had come. Jimmy opened his eyes back up, an idea forming in his brain thanks to the surfaced memory.

 “Hey, Tango?” Jimmy spoke up, pulling Tango out of his anxiety for a moment as he looked down at him again.

 “Yeah?” Tango answered.

 “How about we move to the bed for a bit?” Jimmy said, glancing over at Tango’s bed as he said it. Tango frowned slightly, confusion apparent in his eyes.

 “What about the food?” Tango asked and Jimmy smiled a bit. 

 “We can always warm it up later. I think this might be more important.” Jimmy said, confusing Tango even more. Even so, Tango started to slowly walk over to the bed and Jimmy knew he was being extra careful because Tango was holding him. As they made it to the bed, before Tango could get into it, another bout of thunder roared outside, causing Tango to jump again. Jimmy rubbed circles on the skin under him, trying to offer some comfort.

 “I’m okay.” Tango said and then slowly got into bed. He sat up in the bed, over the covers since he hadn’t wanted to risk trying to get under them while holding Jimmy. But Jimmy wasn’t satisfied with the position.

 “Here, put me down on the nightstand real quick.” Jimmy said and it was like Tango didn’t need to be told twice as he reached his hands over and let Jimmy off onto solid ground. Tango’s hands quickly went away and Jimmy pointed at him. “Now get under the covers and lay down.” Jimmy all but demanded. Another roar of thunder had Tango wincing but otherwise he did as Jimmy said.

 Tango was now under the covers, laying down with only his head slightly raised from his pillow. Jimmy smiled to himself and then went over to the lamp and clicked the small button at the bottom of it, turning off the light. The overhead light was still on but it was dim, the reason they needed the lamp in the first place, and it created the perfect kind of atmosphere that Jimmy was aiming for.

 With everything set up, Jimmy jumped off the nightstand and onto the bed. Tango let out a little noise of surprise and stress as Jimmy did that and Jimmy sent him a smile to reassure him that he was fine. Tango put his hands back down, as they had jumped up a bit when Jimmy had jumped across the small gap between the nightstand and the bed, and watched as Jimmy only moved closer to him.

 “Uh, what are you planning here?” Tango asked, confusion thick in his tone. Jimmy knew if he actually said his plan then Tango might stress about it too much for Jimmy to actually enact it. So he kept quiet about it and just kept walking closer.

 “You’ll see! Just don’t move.” Jimmy said.

 “Don’t move? Wha-?” Tango started to ask but cut himself off as the words got caught in his throat as Jimmy started to climb up on him. Tango’s mouth went dry and he stilled, barely breathing as Jimmy gripped onto the fabric of his shirt to hoist himself up onto Tango’s chest. As he finally got to the top, Jimmy could feel the heart beat under him going at a rapid pace. He looked over at Tango, whose chin was pressed hard into his chest in order to be at an angle to see him. His eyes were wide. “J-Jimmy, what are you doing?” Tango asked.

 Jimmy feared, for a moment, that he was causing Tango more anxiety than the storm now, but he decided to push on. Hoping that the small amount of stress now would make up for the comfort he was about to give Tango. “It’s okay. Uh, don’t freak out please?” Jimmy said with a slight unsure chuckle.

 Tango wetted his lips. “Um…I’m trying.” Tango said and Jimmy nodded. That was all he could really ask for.

 “Okay, bring one of your hands over here.” Jimmy said and he saw Tango swallow as he lifted a hand from underneath the covers and brought it slowly over to Jimmy. He paused, hesitating before he could actually touch him, so Jimmy took the initiative and grabbed hold of one of Tango’s fingers, bringing his whole hand closer.

 Jimmy then laid down right on Tango’s chest, pulling the human’s hand with him. Tango seemed to get what Jimmy wanted him to do and gently settled his hand over Jimmy’s body, only leaving his head free. Jimmy grinned and snuggled his head into Tango’s chest. “There we go! Just focus on me, not on the storm, okay? It’ll pass eventually.” Jimmy said, keeping his voice steady.

 Tango blinked, fully realizing what position Jimmy had maneuvered them both into. They were cuddling, and Tango’s hand pressed down just a bit more at the realization, feeling the small weight on his chest and the small form against his hand. The feeling was grounding and Tango let out a small breath, the storm all but forgotten.

 Another flash of light, another roar of thunder, but Tango ignored it in favor of putting all his attention onto Jimmy.

 “So this was your plan.” Tango said, chuckling a bit. Jimmy smiled at the sound. “Can’t say I’m upset by this.”

 “Well, I would hope not.” Jimmy said, lifting his head up to look at Tango. “I just…I remember my parents doing this for me, holding me close to comfort me. I know…I know I can’t really hold you like that but I figured…this would be enough?”

 Tango smiled gently down at Jimmy and held him just a tad tighter against him, settling down fully into the bed with a sigh. “It’s more than enough.” Tango said with a soft smile. “And you were right, like this…the storm isn’t so bad.”

 Jimmy grinned. “I’m glad.”

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Okay so. I've been gone for two days I think it is...? It has for me, at least. But anyway, I did get fired. Regulations on companies make it so they can't alter any universes too heavily so they made it so I'm not allowed to talk to you directly. Bummer. Anyway, an explanation. I'm from an entirely different reality from you (you expect that by now I suppose) That's a bit in the future of yours technology wise. We can open wormholes at will to travel across the universe to set locations or even communicate with people in a different universe.

Anyway, I was allowed to talk to you using my company's tech as long as I didn't talk directly to you (I know that's confusing, bear with me) so I coded a little robot to send you songs. It pulls songs directly from my playlist, filters out any songs that it deems too vulgar or upsetting to send, generates the relevant information on it (Artist name, song title, etc) and I manually approve on whether to send it to you. That one time I sent a really weird song where one guy literally eats another guy's tongue? Approved it by mistake and it sent through before I could do anything. It wasn't even supposed to be one of the songs it could pull. The whole thing about it being a bot that sends you songs as like, therapy or something? Kind of a lie. I just wanted a way to connect with you...again. I suppose.

Now, what I mean by that is that there was another Curly in my universe. You were mostly the same as you were before the whole "Jimmy crashing the ship thing", but your family was completely different. You had a single mother and an absent father that, surprise surprise, after heavily smoking for years, kicked the bucket due to lung cancer. You, as a young adult, went to the funeral thinking no one else would show up. Double surprise surprise, turns out, he had a whole family with a woman that he divorced before he knocked up your mom. You had four whole half siblings you never even knew about. One half brother and three half sisters. The youngest (still 20 years older than you) actually lived in the same state you were studying to be a pilot in, and she had three little fuckers. One of em was me.

You stayed with us in between hauls. Always came back with some kind of present. Told me about your crew. I even met em, since I always was there to see you off on your hauls. Even though I only met you when I was like, eight or so, you felt like the uncle that had always been there. I loved you a lot y'know. But it seems tragedy loves to fuck over anyone named Curly.

Routine haul. Since we got wormhole technology, this haul wouldn't even last 6 months, and you would be delivering goods halfway across the universe. Anyway, you made it to the wormhole station and was halfway through before something went wrong with the station and the wormhole closed. The entire ship, split in half. I don't know if you suffered, but I do know you died quickly. At least the universe granted you that mercy that they couldn't afford in your universe. Surprisingly, at least one person survived. It was Daisuke. Coincidentally, Swansea was teaching Daisuke about the cryopods and his ass was halfway in one. We don't know what exactly set Swansea off, whether it be a sudden sound of the ship tearing apart or something he felt, but he managed to shove Daisuke inside and freeze him while the ship was torn asunder. Everyone else was dead. We sued the hell out of the company that controls the wormhole stations and got a shit ton of money, but you were still gone. Money couldn't bring you back.

Life moved on. 5 years later, I'm working a job I hate that scrapes internet data from other universes to fuel their shitty AI. It feels so hollow, but this was the only job that was offered to me after college (the job market in my world is beyond shitty) when I get the idea to use this tech to find another you and talk to you, for some kind of closure. My manager was great and was a big part of why it got approved, so I'll be thanking her forever. I coded a little bot, loaded it up with all sorts of cool music, and started looking for a version of you that would be good for this kinda thing. Lo and behold, I found you, a version of Curly with all sorts of voices in his head already, so I sent it off to you. But everytime I got everything ready, it would always make me cry. I miss you so much, uncle Curly. You would've been forty this year.

-Music_Bot_0005768_system_manager

Hey, glad you’re okay. I’m so sorry I lost you your job. Wouldn’t have tried to talk to you if I knew.

Really. Huh. That’s really interesting, actually. What sort of company is that? You got me good. I believed the therapy bot thing. Either way, I appreciate the songs. …Connect with me… again? Do I know you?

Oh. That’s, uh… wow. Yeah, you’re right, that doesn’t sound like my family at all. Universes are a crazy thing, huh. Wait, so you’re my— we’re related? This is bonkers. And incredible.

Yeah? That’s… that’s really nice. I’m glad we could have that connection.

…Oh no. That’s… was it all of them on there? I— I’m glad it was quick and I’m glad the kid was okay. Some mercies there, thank God. I’m, uh… sorry for your loss, as strange as that is to say about myself.

God, okay. It— it’s okay, kid. It means a lot that you did all this for me. Really. I— I’m sorry I can’t be him for you. Thank you for everything.

…Hey.

What’s your name?

[fortunefavourstheboldau]

chapter 3: seize the day

Curly opened the door, staring down his co-pilot. Jimmy stared back, nostrils flared, face creasing with anger.

"What were you two talking about in there, Curls?"

He suppressed a laugh, smiling as fake as he could manage. Curly knew Jimmy could usually tell when he was lying, by the expression on his face. Forcing a smile would be his only way to successfully lie through his teeth, but he'd get shit for it later.

"Anya needs me to restock the medical supplies when we dock to refuel. We were going through the complete list, so I don't accidentally order the wrong thing. I'm taking it upon myself to do your psych evaluation too, since you feel the need to be a complete dick."

Looking around, Jimmy searched for sight of the other crew members. Swansea was nowhere to be seen, but Daisuke was busy fiddling away with his gameboy. Jimmy didn't regard him as a person, so he didn't watch his mouth around the boy.

"You didn't talk about our little arrangement? Didn't tell her about our little night visits?"

Jeez, Jimmy really did ever only want to protect his hind.

"No, Jim. I didn't even tell our prior nurse. You know that I've always kept my mouth shut. "

Jimmy walked closer, hands balled into fists.

"It better stay that way. You know how bad it was for me last time, when you hurt me Curls. I was so distraught. I don't want you to hurt me like that again."

Curly flinched, as Jimmy grabbed him by the collar. Every wrinkle and blemish on Jimmy's weathered face was visible, his vague coffee breath beating down on Curly's face.

"Be a good captain, and keep me happy, yeah?"

Shaking, Curly frantically looked around for an exit, any way to get out of that situation. Jimmy tightened his grip, hand moving to Curly's neck.

" I don't want to do this to you, Curls. "

"You can see me tonight. I won't complain. Just please don't hurt the others, I beg of you!"

Curly wept, anxiety building more and more in his chest. Jimmy, seemingly satisfied, let go of him ; letting Curly crumple to the ground.

"I knew I could count on you, Curls."

God, he hated how quickly he broke apart, when Jimmy got physical. He was like a shattered mirror, reflecting fragments of whoever discovered his ruins. He wasn't even a damn good Captain. He couldn't even keep all his crew under control, couldn't even complete a stupid psych eval to keep Jimmy away from Anya, instead irrationally deciding to sacrifice himself. God, could he do anything right?

Sitting in the cockpit seemed to be the only thing constantly keeping him from diving off the deep end. Pushing down the memories flooding him, he scanned the centre console. The autopilot disabler.. Would it be worth it to keep the key on him? Would Jimmy notice? Would Jimmy lash out? He used to think Jimmy wouldn't act irrationally, if it meant saving himself, but- Flames flickered across his skin, seeping into his pores, scraping his skin from his body. Pain flared through his entire being, causing him to yelp, scratching at the flames; trying to get them to stop.

"Captain? You in here?"

Daisuke? Curly whipped around, noticing the boy was obviously distressed. The flames faded.. Were they an illusion? It felt.. so real.

"What's up, mate? Swansea yell at you again?"

"No, I wanted to talk to y̷̡̖͚̮̙̟͕͛͘͠o̶̧͎̙͛͂̄̂͋̎̀͂͝ų̸̛̥̖̟̰͖̟̥͍̣̯͎͙͉,̶̡̧͚̮̪͌̈̍̎̏̌͝ ̶̡̛͚̰̞͎͚͗͜G̷̛͍̜̹͉̼͕̗͗̽̆͒̍̀̑͝ŗ̵͖͔͍͙͎̥̳̑͌̓̇̅͗̓͂̑̏̚͝͠͝ą̴̰̀͐͛͊̄̀̈́̊̈́̾̕̚̚ņ̶̡̢̲̯͖̭͍͈̱̠̙̟͔́̈́̔͒̌͂̓̑̕̚ţ̷̤͍̓̅̅̑̃̚͜͠ ̶̲̳̿̍̓̃̄͂͆́́̃̓̅̒͘͝Ċ̶̡̢̡̠̙̘̇̐́̔̃͘̕͝u̶̦̫͍͉͚̒̽̓͆͑̊̄̑͒̈́̑́͘͘͠ŗ̵̠̭̼͈͔̭̝̣̮̳̒ͅl̵̜̻̰̙̥̮͖͔̭͎͗̇͋̎̑̽͌̉͝y̶̬̳̺̞͙͈͐̓̓̏̚͜.̵̡̛͍̪͖̙̩̜̮̞̳͈̻̮̿̋̋̋͑͌̇͝"

Daisuke grinned, the corners of his mouth stretching further than normal. His voice began to warp, reminiscent of an old radio beginning to break.

"Uhh.. What's up, Dai?"

Curly scratched his arm, double checking that the flames were gone. Was he really going insane? At 35?

"I know your predicament, Grant. I know you believe you're going insane. Remember how you begged me to s̶̢̨̛̰̳͈̠͚̪͇͋̓̈͌̑͊̋̈́̔̏̎͗͜͜͠a̶̡̛̳͉͉͖͕̯̯̖̪̪̩͈̜̒̂͐́͊͘̚͝v̸̧̺̥̬͔̣̣͙̗͙͇̱̹́̑̿̎̀̍̀̊̔̊̍͗̚͜͠e̸͎̜̞̍͑́́̂͌͘ͅ you from h̸̛̛͓̙̥̞͕̖̦͕̼̖̫̑̒̂̉̀̈́ͅi̵̧̡̛̺̣͎͓̦̗̝̹͔̇̇̎̎͘ͅḿ̴̨̡͍̣̤̪̟̹̹̻̝͔̤̗?"

Daisuke stepped closer, eyes starting to glow - reflecting the green of the pilot controls. Putting his hand on Curly's shoulder, he began to laugh, quiet yet a hint of otherworldly energy to the sound. Curly stayed, frozen in movement and speech. He needed to know more, but the thought terrified him.

"L̸i̶s̶t̴e̶n̴ ̷t̷o̴ ̸m̸e̷.̷ ̸Y̵o̵u̵ ̵n̷e̵e̴d̴ ̷t̷o̵ ̵g̷e̸t̴ ̷r̸i̶d̵ ̸o̶f̵ ̶h̵i̵m̴.̶ ̵H̷e̵'̴s̷ ̵g̷o̴i̶n̶g̴ ̴t̴o̸ ̴d̸o̶ ̸i̴t̸ ̴a̷g̵a̷i̷n̴ ̸i̶f̸ ̴y̸o̶u̵ ̶d̵o̵n̵'̴t̵.̵" "You're a smart man. Now prove that you're a g̸̢̛̲̮͙̻͚̘̅̊̈́̄̐͌̀̊͘̚͝͝o̵̺̰̱͇̞͚̦̳̿͆̅̋͜ö̵̧̹̜̙̙̬̻͈̜̗̯̥̻̼͍́d̴̡̛̮͔̹̞͉̞̖̘͉̣͔̂̄͂̍̾̀̾́͑͠ͅ Captain."

Daisuke removed his hand from Curly's shoulder, deciding to walk over to the cabinets. Curly followed him, confused. He tapped on the cabinet with the autopilot key, giving Curly a wink before bounding away.

"Thanks Dai..."

"No problem, Cap!"

Curly opened the cabinet, taking the autopilot key in his hands. The pilots weren't allowed to keep the autopilot key on their persons, but if it meant keeping them all safe.. He shoved the key in the breast pocket hidden on the inside of his uniform. Anything to keep them all safe. The autopilot always redirected around asteroids, so they would never see a situation where they need to turn it off. But..

How did Daisuke know?

He was long gone by the time Jimmy had laid Curly out on the table, and sawn into his burnt flesh.

He was a corpse!

Had whatever entity that decided to save him- possessed Daisuke? He was the least likely to cause harm if he was possessed, but Curly slightly wished it was Jimmy who'd been taken. Maybe then Jimmy would be a good friend again. As stupid as it was, he missed the Jimmy he used to drink with at the bar, after their harsh training. He'd broken his leg once, right before his birthday, and Jimmy had forced all their friends to get together and make sure Curly had a damn good day despite being in the hospital. Jimmy had baked him an - albeit disgusting - cake, made of chocolate and caramel whey protein powder, but he loved it. He'd been loved by many, but he'd never felt truly loved until that moment. Now Jimmy was... Well, Jimmy. Curly closed the door behind him as he headed towards the kitchen, deciding he'd go have another shitty cup of coffee.

"Curls?"

He froze, fear flooding through his system. Only Jimmy called him that. But the voice was older, and kinder, that of a guy old enough to have photos of his loving grandkids.

"Curls, come here for a sec, won't cha?"

A relieved chuckle escaped his chapped lips. It was just Swansea. He was safe, at least for now.

"Yeah, what's up, Big Swans?"

He walked over to Swansea, situated in the Utility room with the axe in hand, and a letter in the other.

"I want you to read this. I found it sitting on Anya's desk, a couple days ago. I meant to give it to you sooner, but Daisuke's been snooping around my things."

Anya? Fuck, was it Jimmy again? Swansea handed him the note. It read; " I need to find a way to report Jimmy, without drawing attention from Grant. He's stuck too far in his head to realise that Jimmy has to go, and he can't keep blaming it on a potential loss to our paychecks. I don't care about the paycheck anymore. I shouldn't have this wretched baby inside me. In a way, I understand Captain though. He's been stuck with Jimmy for so long that the absence might be the last straw on the camel's back. But Jimmy's too much of a hazard for us to keep dancing around the topic. The next stop is in 3 and a half weeks. I need to get rid of him, but it's out of my control. I need to convince Grant to let me get access to his way of communications with Pony. Our lives hinge on this. "

"Think ya need to chat to our paranoid nurse."

A way to get rid of Jimmy? He'd certainly considered it, but the risks had always set him back from doing it. Pony allowed co-pilots access to the captain's communications, so he was terrified of Jimmy finding out if he even attempted it.

But.. He had to do something. His own damn crew were conspiring behind his back, just to get rid of Jimmy. Curly didn't blame them, after all it was his fault that Jimmy was on the ship in the first place. The lack of trust was the only thing he really felt like shit about. But, yet again, he deserved it. He hadn't exactly proven himself to be someone who would take action.

"Thanks. I mean it, Swansea."

"No problemo, boy."

Curly sat down on his bed, knees creaking with the sudden movement. He wriggled over to the hidden locker beside his bed, deciding he'd store the key in there. The door snapped open, revealing the voice recorder and photos of his dog Danger hidden in there. Maybe he could record tonight? It'd give him evidence of Jimmy's.. misconduct. Anya could use it to help her case against Jimmy, when they report him. He slunk down onto his bed, after grabbing out the recorder and shoving the autopilot key up the back. Curly already felt disgusting. He already knew he'd be scraping at his skin in the shower, trying to get the filth off of him. Yet, Anya had to live with the consequences, every day.

Notes:

dw, something's gonna happen to j-diddy before he can do that shit again. im not writing that type of stuff. fic link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61405324/chapters/157094176

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 10)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 next: Part 11 | ao3

time for shenanigans.

Jim’s frustrated.

This whole week has been a major event after another; Joyce’s son vanishes on Sunday, the same happened with Eddie Munson the day after, and the Hollands’ daughter going poof the other day. And then Will’s body had been found in the quarry, which was a cherry pick top on with Benny’s sudden death and the damned MK Ultra stories he can’t get out of his head-

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. Takes a deep breath. Exhales it out. Yeah, Jimmy boy, exhale some of that shit out.

He’s sitting in his vehicle on the roadside, just at the intersection of Cherry Ave and Cornwallis Road. He doesn’t really have much to do. Theoretically, he should be sitting his ass behind his desk at the station but what is he going to do?

The goddamn suits and rangers of the state had shown up right after Will’s body was recovered and told him to relax because they got it all covered.

Yeah, right.

In a different time, Jim wouldn’t mind shouldering off the responsibility and leave the big hats to finish it. But he’s not that kind of cop. He doesn’t trust the state to place their greasy hands over the cases. At best, they’re going to fuck it all up.

But it seems that they really aren’t kidding about being involved. When Jim had tried to get into the morgue last night to do a better autopsy on Will’s body, the doors were guarded by, not one, but three rangers. He almost punched them all out, but he had simply shared the most polite conversation he can with them before they politely kicked him out.

He had thought about seeing Joyce earlier this morning, but he would be a heartless jackass to accidentally send her to a public breakdown at her son’s funeral.

Now he’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, staring at nothing on the road, unsure what to do and where to start.

His mind wanders to the notebook sitting in the glovebox. Having already read it front to back, he can admit that Wayne really has a sharp eye for everything. There’s one particular point about Eddie being last seen with a cut on his hand that’s nagging the back of Jim’s memory cave. But nothing solid comes up so he brushes it aside for now.

“How long it’ll take for you to even care out what happened to my nephew before his body turns up next?”

Jim stops his tapping on the wheel and drops his forehead against it, sighing heavily. Wayne really knows exactly what to say that haunts you for the rest of your damned life.

Not so different to what Joyce had fired back at him few days ago.

Will’s body comes back to his mind again. He hadn’t seen him up-close, not with the coroner being defensive on preventing contamination. But Jim’s not an idiot. He had seen enough of Will’s perfectly intact body to call bullshit on the accepted belief the kid fell into the quarry.

Suddenly, he gets a sinking feeling in his gut.

Jim looks up towards the direction of the laboratory. He’s too far to actually see the building but he feels its presence nonetheless. Enough to conjure up the image of Martin Brenner’s polite smile when he said no, we haven’t seen a child here on these grounds.

He starts the engine.

—

From the way Wayne keeps glancing up at Joyce, she senses that her pacing is getting to his nerves.

It’s fair for him to think that. She’s been practically burning through his kitchen floor for the past thirty minutes. Or she thinks it’s been thirty minutes. Hours were quickly slipping and the sun’s already setting outside. 

Hours without any word from Will or Eddie. Not even a tiniest flicker from the lightbulbs. 

Despite her empty stomach, she can feel bile climbing up her throat. She swallows it down, daring a glance back to Wayne. 

He looks up at her again, his hand rubbing the side of his temple. Joyce tenses when she catches his mouth opening as if he’s ready to say something. She’s already had enough listening to the hauntings of her mother’s scolding in her ear and whispers from the townsfolk (including Lonnie and Jonathan) right behind her back. She doesn’t want to hear another one to her face from Wayne.

Just then, through her anxiety, she gets struck by a realization.

“Of course!” Joyce snaps her fingers in a feign of excitement. “They probably went back to my house!”

Wayne gives her a bemused look. “Your house?”

She nods quickly, already pulling the older man up as she reminds him through a long-winded explanation of how she manages to establish communication with Will and later Eddie at her home. Wayne looks all the more confused, but he hurries along with her to his truck. It’s a quicker drive from the trailers to Cornwallis. Wayne follows her brief directions, soon parking on the driveway. Before he even stops, Joyce jumps out and runs to the front door. 

She realizes a second too late that she should give him a warning about the current state of her living room. But whatever words she’s about to say withers in her mouth when she steps into the house.

The Christmas lights are gone. 

Every one of them that she’s strung up, even a few she had reluctantly pushed to the corners this morning, are nowhere to be seen now. Her only way to speak to her baby, gone.

As she gapes around the room, her eyes land on the suspect, who’s kneeling on the couch and methodically replacing a new layer of wallpaper above it. Right were the letters used to be.

“Lonnie.” She doesn’t know how she finds her voice, but it doesn’t sound like herself. It’s too calm to match the anger burning within her chest.

Lonnie looks over his shoulder, unfazed. “There you are. Thought I had to call the cops when you disappeared this morning. Like mother, like son, huh?”

Joyce clenches her jaw tight at the normalcy of his tone. She glares at him, making Lonnie mockingly throw his hands up. 

“Oh, sorry. Never meant to say that. I was just worried about where you went.” Lonnie chuckles. Then he looks over her shoulder and his expression falls. Joyce dares a quick glance and sees Wayne standing awkwardly in the doorway. She cringes inwardly, motioning at the other man to leave. But Wayne doesn’t move. He just crosses his arms and stares back evenly at Lonnie.

When Joyce peers back at Lonnie, his eyes are darkened. She can hear his teeth grinding as he gets off the couch and towers over her. “Seriously? We just buried our son and you run off to-”

“What did you do to the lights?” Joyce cuts him off. Her voice is still and quiet.

Lonnie raises his eyebrows, his temper briefly quelshed with confusion. “What?”

“The lights, Lonnie. Why did you take them off? And why are you ruining the wallpaper?”

He has the audacity to sigh and shake his head as if his heart is breaking. That liar. “I threw them out.”

It feels like the world just stopped. “What?”

“Because your mind’s not right, Joyce. I can’t see you act like this, pretending that Will’s trapped in the walls-”

“Since when have you ever cared?” Frost drips out of her voice. She hopes it turns into icicles and stabs into her ex-husband’s heart.  “You never gave two shits about me when I had to bust your ass out of jail countless times and take up the night shifts because you couldn’t hold a job anymore. You never cared how hard or loud you’ve hurt me in front of Jonathan. You never, never cared about Will until you thought about hitting him too.”

“Joyce-”

“And now you show your face up, acting like the grieving husband and father so you can make everyone believe you’ve cared. But you never did. Because I bet it’s because of that sweet money the state’s going to donate to your pocket for acting like the way you are. So what gave you the fucking right to take down all of my lights, tear my wallpaper off, and act like it’s for the sake of my sanity?”

Lonnie throws his arms up, his face looming closer like he always does when they fight. “Because you’re sick, Joyce! You’re acting completely irrational and ruining this house-”

“I’m ruining the house? Is that what you care for now?!”

“Yes! Because this is where you and your son live in-”

“If you fucking dare to move back in here-”

Amidst their arguing, Joyce barely remembers Wayne. She just hopes that he had just left already, seeing no point in watching a couple’s dispute. It’ll hurt, but it would be the best for him. He doesn’t deserve being dragged into more of her messes.

Lonnie’s hand suddenly shoots towards her in a blur. Joyce instinctively flinches away, already feeling the phantom stinging of the previous slaps. 

But she doesn’t feel her head snapping to her side or taste sharp copper in her teeth. She peeks her eyes open (she doesn’t realize she had shut them) and sees Lonnie’s arm being held in the air by Wayne’s tight grip.

“If your way to end an argument is to hurt someone, then you’re better to take the loss and leave.” Wayne speaks to Lonnie’s face so softly that his usual gruff tone vanishes for a moment. Oh. Joyce realizes. That’s how his anger sounds.

Lonnie stares at him wide-eyed, a drop of sweat trailing down his cheek. His forearm whitens around Wayne’s fingers the longer they grip into the skin. Finally, Wayne leans away with a curt nod and lets him go, making Lonnie stumble back. He looks at them both before the familiar snarl of displeasure returns. 

“You’re both fucking crazy. You both deserve it together.” He spits just before he storms out, loudly slamming the front door shut. 

Trembling, Joyce glares through the still-open window as Lonnie starts up his car and promptly drives off. 

Wayne scoffs quietly, “Serves him right.”

It should be enough to let her relax and breathe again. But there’s so much of her anger boiling her veins that Joyce grabs her head and curls her fingers into her hair, pulling it harshly so that several strands get ripped out.

This should be enough. But there’s so much of her anger boiling her veins that Joyce grabs her head and curls her fingers into her hair, pulling it harshly so that several strands are ripped off.

She can hear Wayne calling her name. But she doesn’t listen or look at him. She just turns around and stomps her way down into the house. And then there’s a blast of cold air and heavy crunching of leaves under her feet. Before she knows it, Joyce yanks the shed’s door open.

The first thing she sees is a pair of shovels. She grabs them, only for both tools to be somehow tangled with each other. It makes her more mad as she struggles to separate them. But once they’re freed, they get caught against the other tools in the shed.

“You’re kidding me.” She says to nobody in particular except this stupid shed and whatever god is up in the sky who likes making her life miserable. She tries to shove her anger down, but the shovels are stuck again and they’re just banging against the shed, doing nothing but make the buzzing in her head louder and louder and she can’t think of anything other than-

“Joyce.” 

She jumps, her shoulders up to her ears. She whirls around, expecting to see Lonnie crawling back to her. But it’s only Wayne, standing just a few feet away.

She glares up at him. “What?” 

He looks wearily at her and at the shovels in her hands. “What are you doing right now?” Wayne asks, sounding too gentle like he’s trying to coax a scared animal. Thinking of that comparison makes Joyce even more mad.

“None of your damned business.” She hisses. She turns back to what she’s trapped herself in doing and tries to free the shovels. How is it this hard to get a couple shovels out?! 

But she still senses Wayne behind her, even approaching closer. She whips her head back to him, “Leave.”

Just after she says it, the shovels she’s been holding bang against some equipment inside, creating a cascade of metallic crashes.

Her frustration explodes. She drops the handles and kicks at the wall several times hard enough that it almost surprises her it doesn’t collapse. Her hands dig back into her hair as she yells up at the sky. And because Wayne is still here for some godforsaken reason, she yells at him too. 

“Just go! You already know how goddamn sick I am! Just go and spit on me after wasting your fucking time for sitting around and waiting for your nephew-”

Wayne takes another step forward and-

He hugs her. 

Joyce stiffens at first, a second of shock overcoming her. Then she lets go of her hair just so she can pound her fists onto his chest, attempting to twist away from his embrace. Bad women like her don’t deserve hugs like this.

“What did I tell you about using others to comfort your pain, Joyce? Now I’m going to feel awful for wanting to give you a hug. You see what you’ve done? To your own mother, no else?”

Wayne doesn’t let her go. Instead, he smooths her hair down, careful at the aching patches where she’d just abused her scalp. Something about that motion makes Joyce to drop her arms down. Her breath shudders as she lets her face be buried into Wayne’s cardigan. It smells like cigarettes, old oak leaves, and flour oddly enough.

It sends a crack somewhere through her heart.

She doesn’t recognize the wretched sound coming out of her mouth. It sounds like a dying animal, too rough and guttural as if it wants to cut through her throat. Her small body wracks violently with every sob like it’s desperate to rattle her soul out to leave this earth. She wants to leave, but Wayne isn’t letting her. He keeps her arms tight around her, slightly rocking them side to side like a father does to a child. Just like how Joyce does to Will and Jonathan after a bad day and night. 

Thinking about it restarts the cycle of tears again.

After she feels her tears are spent and regains control of her breathing, Joyce taps on Wayne’s arm. He gets the message and unwraps himself from her, though he keeps a hand on her shoulder. The front of his cardigan is nearly soaked through but he doesn’t raise a complaint.

Joyce’s eyes feel swollen. There’s snot and tears running down her face, which she’s quick to wipe away. Once she’s sure she can speak without another threat of tears, she mumbles, “Sorry about that..” 

“No need to apologize. Seems you really needed that.” Wayne tells her softly. She looks up at him and there’s a small sincere quirk of his lips. Not a single ounce of malice or pity is shining out of his doe eyes, just complete reassurance and comfort. 

It almost makes Joyce cry again, but she holds it together and just sniffs her snot back in. 

Silence falls between them, but it’s not as awkward or tense as Joyce expects. It’s more comforting. Maybe breaking down in front of someone who doesn’t immediately taunt her does more wonders than she thinks.

“Do you want to explain why you were wrestling with these shovels?” Wayne asks. A flush of shame comes over Joyce and she looks down to the ground again. Crosses her arms as if it’ll prevent herself from answering.

“Joyce?”

She lets out a shaky sigh. Fuck it. Wayne’s been with her this far.

“I want to go back to the cemetery.” 

There’s a pause. She doesn’t look up as Wayne asks, “Come again?”

She sighs again. Flicks her eyes up to stare directly at Wayne. “I want to see who was that boy they buried as Will.”

Wayne furrows his brows. Then the realization comes over him. “You-”

“I know it’s stupid and very illegal.” Joyce keeps her hands to herself so they don’t flail around, takes a step away from him. There’s something wrong with her in which every time she wants to be taken seriously, another thing happens that keeps testing Wayne’s patience for her.

She continues, “But I can’t stand it. I know in my heart and soul that whoever they found in that quarry just looks like Will, but it’s not him! If it was, they would’ve allowed an open casket or let me stay with him for a bit before-” Her breath shudders again. “I just want to know what the hell is going on!”

Joyce tears her gaze away from Wayne, staring at the ground as if it’ll rip open and spit Will back to her. “If you want to throw me into jail or Pennhurst for this, then go ahead. If you’re fed up with my ‘delusions’-” she spat the word, “then leave and forget about me.”

The silence drags for a horribly long time that Joyce can see their shadows extending before her eyes. Then Wayne’s feet shuffle out of her view. She closes her eyes, shivering from the cold catching up to her.

Then there’s a little nudge on her arm along with Wayne’s gruff voice speaking, “Alright, better now than later.”

Joyce blinks her eyes open, her jaw falling open at the sight of Wayne back to her side and holding out a shovel to her. While carrying the second, no less. “W-Wha-?”

“You’re right on a couple things.” Wayne interjects her kindly. “There’s some strange stuff happening around here these past few days. It has to do with our boys going missing and we both know they’re alive somewhere. If you’re beyond certain that the kid you saw being buried isn’t Will, then nothing hurts to check.”

Joyce almost wants to laugh. She almost asks Wayne if he’s losing it. But she sees that look in his eyes, the hard determination she’s seen in herself too. It gives her a spark of hope again.

She takes the offered shovel. She has to bite the insides of her cheek to keep some hysterical giddiness from showing. Staring into Wayne’s eyes, she says, “If you’re in this with me, for what we’re about to do, then you need to also help me out if we get caught by Hopper.”

Wayne gives out an exasperated sigh, but his mouth quirks up something resembling a smirk. “Let me double check my bail money first.”

—

As they drive up into the cemetery, it’s gotten dark enough that all of the headstones look like lumps. Undead potato lumps. A morbid joke that his sister Suzanna once shared with Wayne when they were kids and has somewhat stayed in his vocabulary. Once he slipped and said it around Eddie few years ago, who had gladly adopted the phrase.

“The grave’s over there.” Joyce frowns, pointing over to a direction behind them.

“And we’re going to stop here.” Wayne says, parking the truck at the very end of the road where the oldest areas of the cemetery start embracing the woods. “Wouldn’t want to park near your boy’s grave and get caught too soon.”

Joyce makes a small ah sound. Wayne cuts the engine and headlights off and they both get out. He takes the shovels from the truck’s back, along with a crowbar and a flashlight. Joyce raises an eyebrow at the crowbar but says nothing as she takes the flashlight and the lead to their destination.

They hurry further in half-crouches, carefully weaving around the other gravestones. The groundskeeper has night shifts for a reason and lord forbid if there’s any sneaking reporters hungry for pictures.

“Here.” Joyce whispers. There’s almost no need for her to point it out with the too-new marble headstone and bouquets of flowers are placed on the recently-buried dirt.

They stand together on the side, staring down at the ground. A little adrenaline rush of I am actually doing this comes down onto Wayne. He should feel ashamed of himself. That he should have listened to his logical side of not helping a grieving woman’s delusions and now it’ll start a landslide effect of following Al’s forbidden footsteps.

But he doesn’t feel anything. A little nerves, sure. But otherwise? He’s just calm. Nothing towards himself or Joyce.

Maybe he’s like this because a part of him already wants to dig up Eddie’s grave in the future just to hold his boy close for the last time.

Or it’s just the Munson thing.

He breathes slowly, repositioning his grip of his shovel and handing the other to Joyce.

She doesn’t take it. She stares down at the still-fresh dirt with a lost expression. “But what if I’m wrong? That all this time, this is Will and everyone was right but I’ve been denying it?”

“Then you’ll cry.”

She looks up, shooting him a baffled look.

“You’ll cry, either out of relief or grief.” He continues, nudging the shovel’s handle to her. “It’s the best any of us can do. And what happens next is up to you.”

Joyce’s eyes well up again but she shuts them tight, her expression shifting to the hard determination Wayne is already familiar with. She opens her eyes and takes the shovel in her hands. Then she gives him a single nod.

Wayne nods back and plunges the shovel’s blade into the dirt.

It’s less back-breaking than he expects. Benefits of growing up south and spending years at the plant, he supposes. The soil’s still loose enough so it might’ve helped easing their efforts. But his arms and knees start to ache after one and half feet in. Joyce’s already trembling at this point, pausing to catch her breath every minute or two.

“I’m not sitting down until we get to the damn casket.” Joyce pants out before Wayne opens his mouth. He wisely keeps it shut.

By the time their shovels hit polished wood, it’s fully dark and a absolute miracle that any groundskeeper hasn’t heard them. Yet. Wayne snatches the flashlight and kneels down to sweep the soil off while Joyce collapses to her feet.

“God.” She tilts her head back, seemingly regretting the motion as it brings some dirt falling on her hair. “I’d almost prefer Mr. Turlington’s gym classes to this.”

“If this was his grave, we would’ve made him proud. Hold this.” Wayne hands the flashlight to her.

“I can barely lift my arms!” Joyce protests, but she takes the flashlight, keeping the beam aimed at the head of the casket. Wayne feels his hands around the edges, shuffling more of the tightly pressed earth away.

He stands up, reaching out for the crowbar above. He moves slowly, feeling conscious of the fact that there is a young boy’s body inside. Any more quicker and heavier movement he and Joyce make might just break the casket itself.

“Did ya get the casket sealed?” He asks.

“No, finding the right casket itself was expensive enough.” Joyce winces right after she says it, as if paying for a casket by itself is the most shameful thing in the world. She eyes at the crowbar in his hands. “Why do you ask?”

“From what I heard, unsealed caskets are easier to reopen.” Wayne kneels back down, roughly scooping out a few handfuls of one wall so there’s a small pocket of space. He looks again at Joyce, silently asking are you sure about this?

She gives him an unwavering stare that all but replies with yes, get on with it.

Wayne wedges the crowbar to the side of the lid. He silently prays that this action won’t taint his memory for eternity and then pushes down on the crowbar with all of his might.

It takes about what feels like hours before a crack resounds and the casket opens. Wayne grabs onto the newly freed lid, pushing it up until the top hits the earthy wall.

Joyce makes a choked noise, almost close to a sob. Wayne himself recoils at the sight of Will Byers’ too-pale face, eyes softly shut as if he was just sleeping.

But the smell…

Wayne sniffs the air. Continues for a moment, unsure if his senses are messing with him. With his eyes still on the boy’s face, he asks, “Do you smell anything?”

A strained chuckle comes out of Joyce. “What?”

“Do you smell anything?”

Joyce falls silent before she starts sniffing. Then again with more consideration. “..No. Just the dirt.”

Wayne manages to tear his gaze away from the boy and back to Joyce. “Doesn’t matter how much chemicals you put in a body for preservation, the smell of rot comes back as soon it’s buried.”

Realization dawns on her face. Then she carefully crawls over next to him, ducking under Wayne’s arm as he still holds the lid up. Joyce looks down at the body and slowly reaches a hand out to the face of her son. She gently cups the cheek, bringing a terrified expression upon her before it shifts into a frown of doubt.

“Do- Do bodies always feel like plastic?” She asks slowly. Wayne looks at her with shared confusion and reaches out to touch the boy’s face. However, his hand must have been too slow or too quick because it instead brushes against Joyce’s.

She gives out a too-loud startled squeal, her head bumping hard against Wayne’s chin. He falls back, hearing a small groan from Joyce. In the process, he loses his grip on the lid and barely stops it from slamming shut by kicking his leg out and holding it up halfway. The weight’s gonna bruise it for days.

“Ow, oh, Wayne!” Joyce is suddenly fretting above him, rubbing the back of her head. “I’m so sorry! You didn’t mean to startle me that bad, it’s just the nerves and-”

“I’m alright.” Wayne means it, even if his chin and leg might not. He’s had worse than beginner’s level grave-robbing. “It’s my fault I scared ya.”

Joyce’s shaking her head. “No, really, I’m sorry-”

Wayne grunts as he slowly pushes himself up. “Would ya get the lid off my leg first?”

“Oh, of course!” Joyce scampers back, groaning with effort as she pushes the lid off. Wayne pulls his leg back to him, rubbing the bone carefully. Yep, he can feel a bruise coming.

“Wayne.” Joyce’s voice is very still.

He sits up more upright. “What’s wrong?”

Joyce doesn’t answer. Her back’s toward him, the flashlight still shining inside the casket. Wayne scoots closer, peering down to see-

Will’s head turned on the side, no longer attached to his body.

It feels like Wayne’s soul is exhumed out of his body all at once. His first thought is, oh lord I just decapitated a dead kid in front of his mother. But somehow through his panic, he notices that despite the damage, there’s not a spot of blood anywhere.

Joyce reaches her hand in again and picks up something. Holds it up close to the flashlight for a closer look.

It’s a wad of cotton.

Wayne checks the head and neck of the body. Thick wads of cotton sticks out of both ends.

“I knew this wasn’t Will.” Joyce whispers, her tone devoid of anything save a hint of triumph somewhere. “None of his moles match and there wasn’t even a birthmark.”

Wayne stays silent, staring down at the body that is not Will Byers. Who that half of the town came and mourned for just hours ago. All of this for a fake body.

“Wayne?”

Joyce’s looking at him, concerned. It feels terribly juxtaposed. A grieving mother sitting atop of her son’s fake body wanting to know if he’s alright.

“Did they tell ya who found the body?”

Joyce thinks for a moment before replying, “Not anyone specific. I think Hopper said it was somebody from the state.”

Wayne swallows but his throat’s too dry. He lifts his gaze up towards the sky at last. The stars are coming out. “Chief told me that the state’s taking over Eddie’s case.”

They both become quiet for a long time. Until they both catch a faint whistling tune of the groundskeeper. Then it’s a mad careful scramble out of there.

—

Brenner studies the new dummy on the table, taking a glance at the reference photographs laid out on the desk besides McNeil, who stands on the opposite side and poorly hiding his fidgeting.

There’s nothing wrong with McNeil’s works. It’s a masterpiece, much like the previous. Anyone who never touched a human body or kept on his payroll wouldn’t notice the difference.

But Brenner always sees flaws in perfection. That’s the duty in being a scientist. Running through the tests over and over until the subjects are one hundred plus ten percent faultless.

It always leaves a bitter taste on his tongue when he skips over a mistake, even for the sake of studying. He’s being more considerate these days after the disastrous cases with Henry and Eleven.

“Is this accurate to the boy’s measurements?” He asks. McNeil stops fidgeting and straightens up with an air of confidence that should be permanent.

“Yes, sir.”

Brenner eyes the small flock of bats and devilish marionette inked on the right arm. “Is this the only tattoos he has?”

“No, sir.”

“Then where are they?”

McNeil clears his throat, almost looking away from Brenner. “It’s difficult to perfect the other designs when there’s bare references of what they exactly look like. Tattoos are heavily variable, sir.”

Brenner sighs quietly in disappointment. He’ll save this discussion of incompetence much later, preferably once Eleven returns. “Then find the exact designs and make sure they match.” He looks down at the blank intimation of Eddie Munson’s face, thinking for a moment. “And give it the impression that it’s been deceased for longer than Will Byers-”

The door suddenly opens and Agent Sterling walks in with an annoyed expression. “We have an intruder.”

Brenner frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

She gestures for him to follow and he’s lead to the screening room of their security footage. One of them shows the police chief Jim Hopper cautiously walking through the basement level, undoubtedly heading to the room with Eleven’s gate.

Brenner can’t help but chuckle. That man truly wants to know more about what they are doing.

“Should we eliminate him?” Agent Sterling asks.

He shakes his head, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No. Just tranquilize him and send him back home. Place our listening device somewhere in his residence as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopher @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost @niniel-karenine @tinyplanet95

[xkittypunkerx]

SCREAM - A Beautiful Lie

Chapter Summary and Gang Members: Punk and his gang realize that AJ Lee has returned and begin to make their plans.

Gang Members

2009 Heel CM Punk

SOA Season 1 Jax Teller

James Keenan aka Corey Graves

The Shield Seth Rollins

Jimmy Jacobs

Chapter two

-April Mendez-

Within the next week or so, any stranger would think that we've been living here for years. We installed an amazing improved stereo system, flat screen TV, and a few other needed appliances and such. I guess you could say that our parents really love us.

I groggily opened my eyes to the smell of bacon and eggs flowing through the house. Kofi must be over here showing off his secret culinary skills. I stretched as I got out of bed, and made my way down to the kitchen. "Well look who finally decided to get up," Kaitlyn laughed as she swallowed a forkful of hash browns.

I rolled my eyes, "C'mon, I didn't sleep in that late!"

I noticed that both Kaitlyn and Kofi were staring at the oven clock and suppressing laughter, so I followed their stare and saw that I had slept in until 10 AM! I was supposed to be at an illustration intern meeting in exactly 30 minutes...

"Shit!" I cursed as I ran down the hall to my room and quickly changed into a black and grey pinstriped business suit, straightened my hair, and applied just a slight amount of makeup, enough to look like myself but not so "scary."

I rushed to the kitchen again, noting I only had 10 minutes left. Good thing that this event was on campus, otherwise I'd be mega screwed.

"Ok, I should be back around one, so you guys can go to lunch without me if you want. Um...don't forget to clean up. Peace out!" I yelled as I ran out the door to the truck.

If I wasn't in such a rush, I could've had just enough time to laugh at myself. Seriously, I just sounded like their mother! All humor aside, I pressed the pedal to the metal and pulled into the parking lot mere seconds before the meeting was about to begin.

When I walked in, it turned out that they were still distributing name tags. And much to my surprise, people were still stumbling in after me. Sometimes I honestly believe I worry way too much.

The meeting itself was a great success. I ended up meeting some pretty cool people, some of which I had common classes with this semester, got brochures for internships, and even received a couple of compliments on the drawings I've gathered thus far for my portfolio. Anyone near me could tell that I was excessively ecstatic as I practically skipped back to the truck. At this rate, tonight would definitely be a party night.

I drove home to find two very strange things: it smelled like shit and Kaitlyn had left a note. I plugged my nose in suspicious disgust as I crept into the bathroom to see if I could figure out the source of the massive stench.

I groaned as I looked at the chunk of nastiness resting at the bottom of the toilet. The water was raised unnaturally high, and something told me this thing was clogged. My suspicions were confirmed after four flushes, and no success. No matter how many times I tried to flush afterward, it didn't go up or down...now that's really gross. That note better explain what's going on here.

The note was written on the back of some receipt and resting on the corner of the counter.

It read:

AJ, I'm leaving to go look for a job. Kofi said he'll stay here a little longer, but he'll probably be gone before you get back home.

Love, Kait the Great

I rolled my eyes after reading her signature, but then realized that it must've been Kofi who was the one responsible for the clogged toilet, though it doesn't really seem like something he would do...

I groaned as I pulled the phone book out from under the kitchen desk and looked for a plumber. I dreaded the thought of some gross fat man coming here while I'm helpless and alone - talk about paranoia. Remember: keep the past where it belongs.

I forced myself to dial the number and sat on the couch waiting for him to arrive.

-Jax Teller-

"Is anyone else ready to go look for new prey? I need someone to fuck with," I asked in a bored tone as I skimmed through some text messages in my cell.

All of the guys agreed in their own way as we chugged our liquor besides, as if it were water. At this point in our world, liquor was almost necessary to keep the entertainment and creativity flowing.

As I lounged back in the leather recliner, a random memory suddenly entered my mind, causing some beer to slip past my lips as I began laughing. "What's so funny, man?" James asked, eyeing me strangely.

"Do you guys remember April Mendez, from like 3 or 4 years ago? Damn, I would just love to go hunt her down and finally finish off our first project," I suggested.

Punk had a thoughtful look on his face, as if he was reliving memories, before he finally ended up cheering for the idea. He should be the one to support the idea the most, considering the fact that AJ Lee was his girlfriend at the time.

"You know, that would probably be way better than any of the kills we've done lately. It would be challenging to find her, but damn would it be worth it."

Seth stood up and walked over to the computer nearby. He was always the pro when it came to stalking people. "Don't worry, I'm on it!" he announced with a confidence-filled grin.

He quickly typed April Mendez's name in some weird college database and you'd never believe it, but we found her. It would seem that AJ Lee must have forgotten all about us, because she was stupid enough to return to the neighborhood for her college education.

It's a shame she has no idea what she's in for. And I can promise you that she will greatly regret the day she ever decided to return to Chicago. We each exchanged pleased looks as we gathered around the kitchen table, shoving all the fast food wrappers and bloody utensils out of the way so we could plan properly.

The following morning, Punk, Seth, and I decided to go gather some dirt on AJ Lee, find out where she lives, and create a reason for us to return to her new home later tonight. AJ Lee attended a rather prestigious college located right in the heart of Chicago. It was a sprawling campus, with several residential locations.

Of course, since AJ was so much classier than the other freshman, she's living in the gated community of condos. Luckily, the community was along the edges of the campus, right near a thick forest

Seth drove the van off the main road and down the bumpy, grassy hill to the right. If our calculations were correct, then we should be close to her condo...number 233 A. Once we saw the black rod iron fence, we decided to jump it and try our luck.

"Hers is just a couple feet down the street," Punk noted as we walked slowly down the sidewalk.

I decided to go ahead of the other two slightly, just to get a sneak peak inside the house. As it turns out, it would seem we weren't alone. A girl and a guy were both sitting at the kitchen table, chatting. Looks like all we can do is sit and wait until these little inconveniences disappear.

"Hmm, maybe we could snag that chick as an encore or something?" Seth suggested, nodding toward the black and blond-haired girl.

"That could work...or we could just use them against AJ somehow. I don't really give a shit what we do with them, I just want this to be the best work we've ever done," Punk said.

I nodded, "Don't worry, man. We'll use all our tricks on this one!"

We waited in the bushes until we were sure that both people left the condo. Then, we picked the back door lock and made our way inside. Seth whistled and said, "Check out this place!"

I made my way further into the condo, walking down the short hallway until I ran into two closed doors. "Which one do you think is hers?"

Punk shrugged and kicked both doors open with just enough force to get the job done, yet keep the doors' hinges intact. One room was green and the other was black and white. "This one's definitely her room," he confirmed as he stepped into the green room. Oh that's right, green was her favorite color.

She had tons of band posters plastered across the walls, a HIM comforter on the bed, and framed pictures of her with those two other people along the shelves attached to her desk. Punk stared hard at the photos, his eyes holding a hint of resentment.

He shook his head and placed a hand over his heart and said with a tone of false pain, "She doesn't even have a picture of her and me together! I'm devastated." I humored him with a laugh as I scanned the rest of the room, memorizing every bit of it for our return tonight.

"Hey guys we don't know when the bitch is gonna be back so we better work fast," Seth pointed out, leaning casually against the white door frame.

I got up off her bed and found my way down to the basement to mess with the electric system. And just for a little bit of entertainment, Seth decided to run over to the bathroom and take a massive dump to give me a reason to return as a plumber before the real fun begins.

Before we left, Punk changed the locks around so that we had easy access to the condo tonight, regardless of whether or not little defenseless AJ thinks that the door is locked.

"How'd it go?" James asked, briefly glancing up from his Sports Illustrated magazine.

"It's perfect! We've got the whole house rigged for our benefit and Teller's is gonna head back over there in a couple hours just to fuck with her," Punk exclaimed, reaching into the fridge for an ice cold water bottle. "Also, she doesn't live alone. A girl and guy were there earlier today, so we have a couple toys to use on the side."

"The guy actually lives across the street, but the girl does in fact live with AJ. I think we should take her too for a little extra fun for the rest of us," Seth added, showing off his stalker skills once again.

"I agree with Seth. Do you think you two can keep this chick out of the house until we give you a call confirming AJ Lee's capture?" I asked James and Jimmy.

"Her name is Kaitlyn," Seth interjected.

James smirked, "Sounds hot. Besides, Teller, you know we're the best at stalking, distracting, and capturing!"

I assumed that AJ had to be back home by now, so I drove over to this plumbing place downtown that we had a special connection with. Clearly, we've pulled this particular maneuver before.

Before entering the building, I changed into the navy blue jumpsuit and pulled the hat down low over my forehead. I nodded curtly at the young guy working at the front of the counter.

"Tell... Teller, what are you doing here?" he asked, just barely above a whisper.

I stared at him intently, savoring the fear in his eyes. "Relax kid there's nothing to worry about. I'm actually doing the job this time. No bloodshed involved."

He knew all too well that in most cases I used this cover up to sneak inside homes and steal the beautiful women inside. Technically, I wasn't really lying. AJ would stay safe and sound while I fix her toilet. I wouldn't be using a disguise to take her away tonight.

Ten minutes after my arrival, the phone rang shrilly through the tiny building. "I've got this one," I said reaching excitedly for the phone, clearing my throat to sound professional. "Hello, J T Plumbing. What can I plumb for ya?"

"Um, yeah, my toilet won't flush and, well, someone...you know...emptied a little too much and it won't budge. Do you think you can come out here and fix it?" she asked timidly.

I smiled as the tone of disgust in her voice reached my ears. "Sure, thing darling, that's our job. Can ya give me an address please?"

She told me the address and even gave me the code to get past the gate. I told her I'd be there momentarily and hung up the phone. I loaded a few things into the van and headed back over to the campus.

I arrived at her place a few minutes later and had to silence a laugh as I rang the doorbell and waited to see her filthy little face. The hardest part of this whole thing would be pretending to be nice to her, but it would all be worth it in the end.

I formed a perfectly fake, business-like smile on my face once she opened the door. Her eyes widened momentarily and she hesitated to speak after first seeing me. I knew she didn't recognize me... probably assumed I'd be fat and creepy...even though I didn't think all men of this profession were like that.

But then again, I'm not really a plumber.

In the next Chapter: The Gang Kidnaps AJ Lee

[ardenla]

My colleague

A short horror story I wrote a while ago:)

Word count: 929

It's loud and crowded in the office today.

I don't know why, but honestly I don't really care and just continue with my work.

Suddenly someone taps me on my shoulder and I look up.

It's Jimmy, one of my colleagues.

I quickly look away again, ignoring him and continuing my work.

"Hey, I want to talk to you about something."

"Sure."

He sighs, seemingly annoyed about my answer: "It's something I would rather discuss in private."

I look around to see the others working hard or talking loudly: "It doesn't matter, no one will hear you anyway. Everyone is too busy with their own things, they couldn't care less."

He turns his head away from me, making me unable to see how he is feeling.

"You're really not trying to hide it, huh?"

"Hiding?"

He scoffs: "That you aren't you."

Honestly his answer takes me by surprise, but I don't want to show him.

"What gave you that idea?" I ask him.

"I knew the original you, that's just a completely different person. Maybe even a different being..."

Annoyed, I look at him: "Seriously? How did I change then?"

"You used to always be very friendly, I knew you really well. We knew each other from high school, but suddenly you're gone for a month and come back like this."

Part of me gets what he is talking about, but the other part of me is just angry that he even came to ask me about this matter.

"You sound like you want something from me. What is it?"

"I want my friend back."

I shake my head and whisper: "That's impossible."

Jimmy looks at me with a face as if he is about to start crying: "If you don't tell me the truth... I will tell everyone." He suddenly says rather certain of himself: "I even have evidence."

I can't bear to look at him and just mumble back to him: "Fine, after work... I will show you."

After work is finally finished I get my stuff and take my coat to leave.

I'm stopped by Jimmy: "We're going together, remember?"

"Don't worry, I didn't forget." I grumble without looking up at him.

We walk out of the building, I don't look up, but can see snow falling slowly. There isn't much yet, so the buses should still drive normally.

"Where are we going?" Jimmy asks curiously and even a little anxious.

"To the place where you will get your answer."

It might be mean, but I really have to take him there.

We walk to a nearby bus stop, deserted by all of the living.

Might as well continue our conversation: "So, by 'other being' what do you think I am?" I ask.

"I saw you walk through a wall, maybe you are a ghost?"

"A ghost?" I laugh joylessly: "Are you sure?"

"No, not at all." He shakes his head: "You might even be an alien at this point, you look just like my friend after all."

"A doppelganger, or a clone then?"

"Maybe... you might even be an evil fairy at this point."

"Evil fairy? That's too kind of a thing to say for you, you're not going with zombie? Or even vampire?"

"If you were a zombie it would have been obvious and I have never heard of a vampire being able to look like someone else."

"Vampires can shapeshift into bats, why not other humans?"

He takes a step back: "So you're a vampire?"

"No, of course not."

The bus arrives and I shake off the snowflakes that have landed on me, I really stood that still.

The door opens and we get inside the warm vehicle.

Even the bus seems to be empty, it's only us here. So I decide that it's safe enough to talk again.

The snow outside has started falling quicker now, was the weather back then like this as well? I don't remember.

"So..." Jimmy asks: "What are you then? And what happened to the real you?"

"You will know when we are there." I answer cryptically.

Though I don't seem to be able to stop him from asking questions.

"Are you two friends?"

I shrug.

"Are you identical twins or something? If so, why have I never met you? Maybe a robot?"

I look outside, ignoring his stupid question.

It doesn't take long for the bus to arrive at the place we need to be.

I press the button.

"Where are we going, this is in the middle of nowhere?"

Ignoring him again I get out, immediately we are greeted by the cold.

It has gotten dark already, so I turn on the flashlight on my phone. There are no street lights here after all.

"It's just a little further." I tell my impatient colleague.

We walk further through the dark and the cold snow.

"It's here..." I whisper, barely being able to talk thanks to the cold and low energy.

Jimmy looks around: "Here? There is nothing here. Are you just joking around? Do you think this is funny? Or could this be a plan for you to get rid of me?" I can hear anger in his voice.

"Please stop..." I whisper, but this time he is the one ignoring me, ranting on.

"You're such a jerk!" The harsh words left my lips before I knew it.

He turns to look at me and his expression turns into one of shock or maybe even worry. It takes me a second to realize why: drops on the ground have started to appear. Melting away the snow. It's not the rain, it's the tears falling down from my face.

Why doesn't he get it? Why won't he understand?

It hurts so much.

Even though my body had gone ice-cold, I can still feel the heat from the wreckage of that day.

Swiftly with a wild gesture of my arms I point to the road.

"This is where you left me... and where I changed."

[snuggerudism]

all the trees change in the fall

elise x ollie

it’s been a week. she’s been radio silent with everyone in her life, including her family. it’s the longest she’s gone without speaking to them ever. sure, she sees the text and calls from her parents, and siblings that aren’t her twin, but she doesn’t have the energy to respond or pick up.

ollie had managed to get her out of bed and into the shower today, with the promise that they’d go to their favorite restaurant for lunch.

for the first time in days, she puts on a somewhat nice outfit along with a light amount of makeup. ollie is driving her car, mostly because she doesn’t think she has the energy to do so.

ollie misses a turn, and she realizes that they are not going in the direction of their favorite restaurant.

“ollie.” elise raises her eyebrow, crossing her arms.

“restaurant’s closed today.” ollie is not a good liar, and his girlfriend sees right through his words.

she’s not alarmed, at least not until she does a double take when she sees her parents car parked in a spot outside the restaurant ollie took her to.

“you-,” she snaps her head to look at her boyfriend. “we can’t go here. my parents are here.” but ollie is already out of the car, keys in hand.

“els, please get out of the car.” he begs.

“you can’t make me.” she snaps at her boyfriend, who takes a deep breath and makes his way to her side of the car.

“please do not make this more difficult than it needs to be. your family came to see you, they missed you and haven’t heard from you in a week.” he opens up the car door, and reaches across to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“you promised you wouldn’t say anything to my family.” her voice is quiet now, and a part of his heart breaks.

“els, i was so worried about you, and they were too. i didn’t tell them anything about jimmy, i swear. the only thing i told them was that you haven’t been doing well lately, and that’s because i couldn’t lie to your parents when they asked me how you were.”

oh. they had called and asked ollie about her? she hadn’t even told them she was dating him, and- oh. jimmy must’ve told them.

“i can’t go in there, ollie.” the words come out as a whisper,

“you have to,” he holds his hand out for her to grab, and she pauses for a moment, before sighing and lacing her fingers with his. “i’ll be right next to you, okay els?”

she nods, and lets him lead the way into the restaurant. she sees her parents and out of the corner of her eye, before the rest of her family pops into view, plus-

oh. he had to have been here, he’s part of her family. she doesn’t know why she ever thought otherwise.

she turns around quickly, seeing if she could run out the door, but ollie is quick to place his hand right below her spine, guiding her to the table.

the first thing she notices is the glare jimmy is sending in her directions, and anger fills her. he has no right to be mad.

“hi mom, hi dad.” she sends a gentle smile to her parents, before sitting next to her sister and pulling ollie down to sit next to her.

his hand reaches for her, trying to calm his own nerves. he’s met her family, but never as her boyfriend.

“this is ollie.” she presses a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek, letting out a giggle as his face turns red. “my boyfriend.” she looks at him with the biggest smile and eyes full of adoration.

she still feels the glare burning into the side of her head from her twin brother, but pays him no mind.

“it’s nice to meet you ollie.” her parents send him a smile, and she notices the way her dad pretends to go into a protective dad stance.

“ignore my dad, he’s harmless.” she whispers into her boyfriend’s ear.

“i give it two weeks.” jimmy snaps, and the chatter that filled the table drops into the abyss.

“james.” her mother warns, sending a nasty glare her brothers way.

“what? i was just saying what everyone’s thinking.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

just when she thought she was done crying and okay, she feels the tears start to build back up again. everyone in her family is staring at jimmy with a look of pure disbelief, but ollie is focused on her, whispering words of love in her ear.

even if he wants to scream at jimmy, and tell him how in love he is with elise, he bites his tongue.

“james, apologize to your sister now.” she’s never heard her dad sound so angry in her life, not even the time that jimmy broke the kitchen window after a puck went awry when they were playing hockey outside.

“why should i apologize? she was the one who went behind my back and dated my teammate without telling me.” his voice is raised, and his face is red with anger.

“i didn’t tell you because i wanted to avoid you reacting like this.” she snaps, fed up with her brother acting the way he is.

“i can’t be here right now.” jimmy slams his fist down on the table, and attempts to get up before their dad pushes him back down by his shoulder.

“you’re not leaving,” he won’t break eye contact with jimmy, who scoffs in response. “and quit acting like a child. you’re 19 years old. your sister is allowed to date whoever she wants.”

“i want you two to make up before we leave to go back home,” her mom reaches across the table to grab both of their hands, and elise is quick to grab it, but jimmy only does after a look from his mom. “you two have always had such a special twin bond, and i don’t want that to ever change.” her mom sounds so sad, and an overwhelming feeling of guilt washes over elise.

“i’m so sorry mom. i didn’t want to involve any of you in this.” she looks down at the table, her other hand still holding on to ollie’s.

“jimmy, do you have anything to say?” her mom looks toward her brother.

“no.” he drops his mom’s hand, and the pit in elise’s stomach only gets larger.

“james.” his dad warns.

“i don’t know what you want me to say to her. she’s the one who made this mess.”

“jimmy,” her voice is so quiet, and his eyes snap to her. “the last thing i wanted to do was upset you. but ollie makes me really happy, and i’m not sorry for that. i am sorry for not telling you i was dating a teammate of yours.

she sees something shift in her brother's eyes, and all the anger he held in them previously is washed away at the vulnerability in his sister’s voice.

he decides staying mad at her is not worth it anymore, and it’s “he makes you happy?”

“the happiest. i haven’t been this happy in a while.” she looks at her boyfriend, taking in how amazing he is. he’s staring back at her, eyes full of love.

“fine. but you’re not allowed to kiss when i’m around.” jimmy has a fake serious tone.

“i can’t make any promises.” she teases.

he lets that comment go, rolling his eyes playfully. “moore, if you hurt her or break her heart, i know where to find you.”

elise has never seen ollie look more terrified in his life. a giggle escape her lips, and ollie gives her a horrified look.

“now can you two hug? i need to see my babies get along again.” her mom has a smile and a sparkle of joy in her eyes.

“i’m so sorry els.” her brother squeezes her tight. she missed their twin hugs a lot.

“i forgive you.” and yes, she probably let him off the hook too easily, but she didn’t have it in her to be mad at him any longer.