#i looked out my window and saw one and remembered how many r there that i cant see bcz of the FUCJING STREET LIGJTS

[autistic-katara]

they should make light pollution illegal i need to see the stars

[otomehoneyybearr]

Kagari Amagase

Be My Lover, Be My Beast

Ch1 | Ch2 | Sweet | Premium | Epilogue| Bonus

Warning: Mention of death

(I never expected this moment to come so soon.)

As I looked out the window of the swaying carriage,

The reflection I saw wasn’t the same person who had been happily munching on dorayaki a few hours ago.

My hair was beautifully arranged with a cherry blossom hairpin, and the petals dangling from it added a touch of delicate and ephemeral look.

When I lowered my gaze, I saw the vibrant kimono I was wearing, with its cream-colored fabric adorned with snowflakes and small flowers, its skirt flaring out like a dress.

(I’m happy to wear this kimono, but how did it come to this? No, more importantly...)

●●●●●● Flashback ●●●●●●

Kagari: "Please be my lover"

●●●●●● Flashback End ●●●●●●

(What did he mean by that...?)

Seeking answers, I looked at Prince Kagari, who was seated across from me.

Kagari: "What’s the matter? You seem restless."

Emma: "Prince Kagari, isn’t there something you need to tell to me?"

Kagari: "You look adorable. The kimono suits you."

Emma: "R-Really? Thank you— Wait, that’s not what I meant."

Kagari: "I know. Don’t worry, I didn’t mean it literally when I asked you to be my lover."

Emma: "So, what did you mean...?"

Kagari: "....."

A sudden silence fell, and Prince Kagari glanced at the sword beside him, letting out a small sigh.

Kagari: "There’s someone I need to convince that I have a lover, no matter what."

Kagari: "That’s why I want you to pretend to be my lover at the place we’re going to."

Kagari: "I considered paying a woman from the entertainment district, but it would be too obvious a lie or mistaken as a casual affair."

Kagari: "So will you help me? My kind-hearted Princess?"

Emma: "Calling me that doesn’t really help your case, you know?"

(I see. So that’s why I was made to change into this outfit... to look like his lover.)

(This is the first time Prince Kagari has asked me for something so seriously.)

(Whoever this person is must be very important to him.)

Prince Kagari has helped me in many situations.

Now that I have a chance to repay that kindness, I had no hesitation.

Emma: "I understand. If I can be of help, I’ll do my best to play the role of your lover."

Kagari: "I knew you’d say that. I appreciate it."

Kagari: "Think about what you want as a reward. I’ll get you whatever you wish for."

(He probably won’t take ‘nothing’ as an answer...)

Emma: "In that case, could you treat me to one more dorayaki from the sweets shop we just visited?"

Emma: "It was so delicious that I’m planning to try all the flavors while I’m in Kogyoku."

Kagari: "You could have asked for something more extravagant, yet you ask for so little."

Kagari: "Dorayaki, I’ll remember that."

Emma: "Thank you."

Emma: "Whoa...!?!"

The carriage jolted sharply, likely from riding over a stone.

The sudden movement lifted me from my seat, and I found myself caught by Prince Kagari in front of me.

Kagari: "Are you alright?"

Emma: "Yes, I’m sorry..."

(Although I’m grateful, this is so embarrassing... It looks like I just jumped into his arms.)

Kagari: "....."

His red hair was so close it brushed against my cheek, making my heart race.

I tried to pull away quickly, but for some reason, he grabbed both my arms, holding me in place.

Kagari: "I know I’m the one who asked, but are you really capable of playing the role of my lover?"

Emma: "I-I can do it… in my head, at least."

Kagari: "Just standing next to me isn’t enough to convince anyone that we’re lovers."

(Ugh… How did he see through me?)

Kagari: "It’s better to get used to it so you don’t give yourself away."

Kagari: "I’m doing this for you, shy little princess, so you won’t be acting so awkward just because we’re close."

Emma: "W-Wait...!"

Prince Kagari effortlessly lifted me up and seated me on his lap.

Who could have predicted the day I’d sit on a man’s lap? My whole body felt like it was about to burst into flames.

Kagari: "Let's stay like this until we reach our destination. You’ll have to get used to me, whether you like it or not."

Kagari: "And then we’ll hold hands, look into each other’s eyes..."

Kagari: "Ah, I almost forgot something important."

He intertwined his fingers with mine and pulled my head close with his other hand.

When I squirmed from the warmth that touched my neck, I heard a slightly dissatisfied voice.

Kagari: "Don’t move, or I won’t be able to put it on."

Emma: "You’re not talking about a hickey, are you?"

Kagari: "What else would I be putting on you? A cut?"

Emma: "That’s even worse!"

Emma: "I said I’d pretend to be your lover, but please don’t leave any marks on me."

(I didn’t expect this much physical contact...)

Kagari: "It’ll fade in a few days, won’t it?"

Emma: "Yes."

Kagari: "The I suppose kissing you here is out of the question too."

Emma: "Of course it is! Absolutely not!"

He lightly touched my lips with his fingers, and I felt my body temperature rise again.

Kagari: "…I don’t get it."

Kagari: "How is it any different from holding hands or touching each other like this?"

He tilted his head in genuine confusion, and I felt a wave of both embarrassment and surprise welled up inside me.

Emma: "While it’s similar in that it’s physical contact, a kiss on the lips is something that particularly expresses affection."

Emma: "It’s an act of confirming each other’s feelings and sharing happiness, and I want to save that for someone special."

Kagari: "Is that so?"

He looked slightly upward as if pondering, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Kagari: "I understand your perspective. I’ll be mindful from now on."

(I managed to express my thoughts clearly, but... was that really enough?)

(To Prince Kagari, a kiss isn’t about pleasure or conveying feelings emotions; it’s just a meaningless act of touching, like everything else we’re doing right now…)

Thinking that made me feel a little sad, as if I was the only one who was overly conscious of it.

Kagari: "Oh, that’s right. I had something to give you."

Emma: "Huh? What is it?"

Prince Kagari reached for a box attached to the carriage, as if he’d just remembered something.

(Oh...!)

What he pulled out was a dagger, and I found myself tensing up unconsciously.

Kagari: "In Kogyoku, not carrying a weapon is something only those with a death wish do."

Kagari: "If you don’t want to die a pointless death, keep this on you at all times."

For someone like me, who grew up in a peaceful place, the thought of carrying a weapon still felt a bit unsettling.

But here, being careless, even for a second, could cost me my life.

(If I don’t want to seem like someone who doesn’t value their life, then I guess…)

Emma: "...Thank you."

I accepted the short dagger with both hands.

It was heavier and more sturdy than I had imagined, and it felt like it weighed on my heart as well.

Kagari: "But if you ever want to die, let know me. I’ll make it painless for you."

(That’s the words of someone who’s seen a lot of death.)

Though I couldn’t read Prince Kagari’s emotions or thoughts from his expression, I could tell that he meant what he said.

Emma: "I... no matter how tough things get, I don’t think I’ll ever choose death myself."

Kagari: "That’s very much like you. Hold on to that thought."

Kagari: "...No matter what happens."

…..

(Wow...)

To my surprise, we had been brought to a casino.

The floor was bustling, and I had to raise my voice a little to even be heard.

Emma: "I didn’t know there were places like this in Kogyoku."

Kagari: "There’s been ongoing factional struggles in Kogyoku, with various countries supporting them."

Kagari: "Because of that, there’s a lot of cultural influence from outside. The casino is one of the results of that."

Emma: "I see..."

(And the person we’re here to see is somewhere in this place... I never would have guessed from the serious expression on his face when he asked me to do this.)

(Now I’m even more curious about who it is.)

Emma: "...."

A large hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me close, and I instinctively tensed up.

Kagari: "You didn’t cry out this time. A gold star for you, Princess."

My heart pounded at his low whisper in my ear, and all I could do was nod.

(If it weren’t for what happened in the carriage, this would’ve been bad.)

I moved my feet to match Prince Kagari’s as he began to walk.

(Come to think of it… it’s my first time wearing a kimono, so it should’ve been difficult to walk, yet I’m able to keep up with him...)

(No, it's more like he’s adjusting his pace to mine.)

I silently thanked him for his kindness and discreetly surveyed the area.

(Why do I feel like everyone’s staring at us?)

Emma: "Prince Kagari, is there something strange about me? Like, am I moving stiffly or have a strange expression...?"

Kagari: "The stares are more because of me than you."

Kagari: "It’s rare for me to come to a casino or to be seen with a woman for that matter."

(But I don’t remember ever being this blatantly stared at in town...)

(It’s like everyone here knows Prince Kagari very well.)

Emma: "Um, Prince Kagari, what kind of person is it that you want to convince you have a lover?"

Prev | Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[roguerogerss]

snow lands on top

pairing: coriolanus snow x covey reader

w/c: 3.2k

warnings: just fluff! a few sexual comments but nothing more, mentions of family deaths, reader is just a poor lil soul

(merry christmas my angels! if you’re having a hard time, i feel you! here’s some soft coryo lovin to help you through it. the holidays r a hard time for so so many people, and my inbox will always be open to anyone who needs someone who’ll understand <3 luv you the most, we’ll get through it all)

-

Christmas Eve. The soft patter of snowfall, the breeze from your half open window, the bustle of the Corso below. You'd been listening to the Christmas shoppers - stressed or unbothered - the kids playing in the snow, mothers and fathers dragging their children to holiday themed events. Laying around in bed all day in old silk had become your go-to on the run-up to Christmas.

You’d come to hate snowfall. It meant the sounds of merry families, playing outside together. It meant mourning for when you could do that, it meant resenting others, something that the Covey would never want for you.

Christmas was bittersweet. It had been for years, now. No gifts under your small, sad Christmas tree, no family gathering, no over-the-top dinner event, sometimes no dinner at all. You lived alone, in your little apartment which you could hardly afford, and had no family left since the war.

You remembered the good times, of course, that was the 'sweet' in all of the bitter. Remembering your mother's baking and the smell of sugar cookies and Christmas cake. The lavish real evergreen tree that made the ridiculously high ceilings of your apartment look low. The gifts, the dinner, curling up with a mug of hot milk on the plush sofa. You even thought of your Christmases back in District twelve. Never too fancy, never too many gifts, but a family, the Covey, music, a home.

Life after the war had been cruel to you. What once was a young girl, with a family wealthy enough to move her to the Capitol, had become a young woman with no one to turn to, and not a penny to her name. You didn't have the luxury of pretending like everything was fine, like you had your family's riches to fall back on. Everyone at the Academy had found out when you'd had to ask for a scholarship loan to pay for your tuition, one which you'd never be able to pay back.

That was something you'd always envied of a particular classmate of yours. Coriolanus Snow. Crassus Snow's baby boy. You knew he must've been penniless, as poor as a church mouse. But maybe you only knew that because your own circumstances were much the same. Coriolanus was smart about it, always looking classy from an outside perspective, never asking for money, never acting hungry. But, when looked into closer, you could easily see cracks.

His shoes were the same ones he'd had since first year at the Academy, and they must've been achingly too small for him. He'd eat only small amounts at school and pretend he was full up, but you'd seen him once, with no shirt on, and his ribs stuck out like a sore thumb. Wherever there was an academic prize that involved money, he was always trying his hardest to win, pulling out every stop, but if there was no monetary prize, he'd only do half as much.

You saw right through his act, always had, but instead of exposing him to everyone else out of jealousy, you'd helped him out whenever you could. Us poor orphans have to stick together, right?

You'd share food, give eachother your spare trolley tokens so you wouldn't have to walk the hour back to the Corso, discuss strategy over how to win said academic prizes, and split them with eachother when you did.

You'd become close friends, over the years, even although it was kept strictly as a secret from all of your other classmates. And so, when you heard a familiar voice floating in through your window, you smiled to yourself.

"Y/N?" You could only faintly hear him calling from the street, but you started up from your bed and yanked the window open fully so that you could hang out of it.

There he was, Coriolanus Snow, in all of his glory. Blonde curls full of white snowflakes, wrapped in what seemed to be a ratty fur coat, chittering away. You laughed when you saw him. "Coryo, what are you doing out? You'll freeze to death!"

"Wanted to come and make sure you were okay." He called back, and then looked around warily, almost as though he was checking the coast was clear before asking, "Can I come up?"

You nodded, "I'll buzz you in." And then you swiftly closed the window. Goosebumps had raised on your arms and chest and you'd be paying for the next year if you had to put the furnace on.

You crossed to your bedroom door, made your way down the hall, and pressed the buzzer, which always made the most abhorrent sound when it let whoever was outside, in.

You waited by the door, and soon enough, Coryo was coming bounding up the stairs, fur coat now in his hand, nose and cheeks bright red. You let him in and laughed as you took his coat from him and hung it up. "It's Tigris'. I don't have anything warm enough, but it's the rattiest old thing I've ever seen."

"It's quite something." You turned back to see him shivering, arms folded around his body to try to warm himself. "Oh, you poor lamb."

Your Covey accent had never faded. The Capitol had always looked down upon you for it, but Coryo blushed every time you spoke. "I'm fine, I'll be fine."

"But it's freezing in here, too. Come here." You opened the small cupboard in the hallway, which held a few random seasonal items, and pulled out two, old blankets. You smiled at Coriolanus as you draped one around his shoulders, and he smiled back, close enough to you that his breath was hitting your cheek.

"Thank you, honey." Coriolanus' eyes scanned your apartment, peering through the living room door and then your bedroom door, and he frowned when he saw just one Christmas decoration - your tiny little tree. His family was poor, but Tigris was creative, and they still managed to uphold some joy in the form of tinsel and stockings at Christmas time.

"What?" Your face dropped and you looked worried, placing a tender hand on Coryo's blanket-clad shoulder. "You look so sad."

"You just..." Coryo's voice trailed off, unsure of how to say what he meant without hurting, or offending you. "I mean, you don't have too much, do you?"

"Well, I thought you knew that." A crease had appeared between your brows and you sounded upset with him, dropping your hand from where it had previously sat. Coryo corrected himself quickly, shaking his head at you.

"No, I'm sorry, that came out wrong." He racked his brain for something to say that would make you feel better. The look on your face made his chest sting. "I don't know, would you want to spend Christmas with us?"

You cocked your head to the side, looking at him as though he was going insane. Maybe he was, he wasn't even sure what he was saying. He closed his eyes and ran and hand over his face, which brightened you up a bit. You laughed, and he laughed, and he felt his shoulders relax. Why was he so nervous? He never got nervous, not like this, anyway.

"We don't have much either, but it'd mean you weren't alone. I know how you feel, especially at this time of year." Coryo noticed the slight tinge of pink that had dawned your cheeks, and, on a whim, he reached out and, with two freezing fingers, tilted your head back so that you were looking at him. "You could come to our house, Tigris makes bread pudding, and we managed to get some beef mince this year, too. Maybe you could even sleep over tonight, and we could wake up together-"

"Coryo, you're rambling." You stopped him, you knew he could go on for hours, and, although the offer was tempting, and you enjoyed the idea of spending even more time around Coryo, you planned on turning him down. "Thank you. That sounds lovely, but I'd never want to intrude. No, the Covey wrote me to let me know they've installed a telephone in the town hall, I can call them for a couple minutes tomorrow, lift my spirits. I'll be fine."

You waved him off, and pulled your mother's old silk robe tighter around your body. You started towards the living room door, expecting Coryo to follow, maybe you'd sit together on the flaky sofa and talk for a few hours, but he didn't let you get far. He snatched your hand from your side, and when you turned to look at him, his blue eyes were filled with concern.

"Call them from our house." He wasn't going to let you off without a yes. "Please. I can't leave you alone, that's not fair. Plus, I've always wanted to meet them, haven't I?"

You took a breath and adjusted your hand in his. It felt nice, to have him be so affectionate. You could admit you were closer than most friends, the line between friendship and love always slightly blurred and maybe crossed over on more than one occasion, but it always felt good to have him near.

After careful consideration, and a few reassuring rubs at the back of your hand from Coryo, you finally gave in. "Are you sure? I don't mean to be a pain-"

"You're not. You could never be." He stepped closer and took your other hand, close enough to you that, if he leaned forward, your foreheads would be touching. "Honest, Tigris will be happy to have someone other than Grandma'am."

"And what about Grandma'am? I'm District, I don't think she'll like that-"

"She respects your family. It's not the right way, I know, but there are very few district people she doesn't mind. She knew your parents, always says they were very respectable people." A grimace crossed Coryo’s face, talking about his Grandma’am’s views in front of you. He’d agreed with her for most of his life, but that was until he met you, and that Covey accent finally made snow melt and changed his mind.

"Really?" Your face had lit up. The idea of anyone from the Capitol accepting you, no, respecting you, was something you’d only ever dreamt of.

"Really." Coryo smiled, now, and then he joked, “What an honour, huh? To have Grandma'am like you."

"An honour, indeed." You laughed. You let go of one of his hands, but kept hold of the other. You started to drag him with you towards your bedroom, but Coryo stayed put, confused. He’d never been inside your bedroom, he assumed it was off limits. You laughed at him, “I’m not trying to get you into bed, darlin’, if I was you’d know about it.”

His face turned a deep shade of red and you approached him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Coryo, I’m messin’. I’m just going to pack a bag, you can come if you like, but if I’m making you uncomfortable you’re welcome to sit in the living room.”

“No. Oh, no. You’re not making me uncomfortable.” Coryo let you lead him to your bedroom, now, and he looked around the almost bare room as though it was a place of worship. There was hardly anything in there, a mattress on the floor, a small, oil lamp positioned next to it. A couple of books, a wardrobe which held your school uniform and your mother’s old performance dresses, which you wore every day you could. He was just happy to be somewhere so intimate, somewhere you allowed only the closest people in your life. “Sorry.”

You got that cheeky look on your face, now. The one that Coryo loved so much. “It’s okay. I know you’re a virgin, anyway-”

“Hey!” He smacked you with the blanket and you giggled and smacked him back. “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it’s obvious.”

-

The walk to Coriolanus’ apartment wasn’t long, but it felt different. You’d never made it obvious that you were close, before, but you walked together, through the snow, chatting away like you’d been best friends for years - which was the case, and now people knew. Even when you passed classmates or their families, you’d both smile and wave, and it felt good to know that people would know.

“Are you excited to meet Grandma’am?” Coryo joked. Your cheeks balled when you laughed and gripped onto his hand in an overdramatic way. Coryo thought his heart might’ve burst.

You bounded forward, still holding his hand, and walked backwards in front of him. “Oh, the most excited. I’m sure she’s got great gossip.”

“Only the best. Did you know she had a fling with the President’s brother when they were in school?” Coryo whispered dramatically, and you gave him an equally as theatrical gasp.

“I hope she’ll tell me all about it.”

You arrived at the apartment cold but happy, noses bright red but laughing. Fingers freezing but locked together. You felt pure joy for the first time in a long time, and Coryo decided he could get used to this.

When Tigris opened the door, you knew this was the right decision. Her face lit up, and she clapped her hands together excitedly as soon as she saw you. She didn’t even bother to greet Coriolanus, just started straight for you, “Oh my! It’s so lovely to see you. Please tell me you’re staying for Christmas!”

“I sure am. Coryo managed to convince me.” You looked up to the boy stood beside you, who’d already been smiling down at you with such love in his eyes.

“Well, we are so happy to have you. Lucky to have you.” Tigris squeezed your shoulder and then stepped to the side, gesturing to both of you. “Come in, please.”

You could’ve sobbed, the feeling of being wanted, not being alone. Coryo touched a comforting hand to your arm as you stepped into the foyer, once grand, but now cracked and tired. Tigris took your coat, and the Grandma’am greeted you with open arms.

“Your dress is beautiful.” Tigris commented, and you did a quick twirl to show off the lace-up detail in the back.

“Thank you, it was my mama’s. I try to wear her dresses whenever I can.” You smoothed the ruffles of your dress, looking down lovingly at the shades of green tulle, handmade by your mother herself.

“And so you should.” Tigris reached out to touch your ruffles, too, and she smiled at you as she did so. “She had great taste.”

Coryo led you through to his bedroom, to let you drop your bag off and familiarise yourself with the place. “Thank you.” You muttered as you placed your bag on his windowsill. “For letting me come here, letting me stay. Your family are just beautiful.”

“Yeah, they’re great.” Coryo stood from his bed to join you as you looked out of his window onto the snow covered Corso, at a fresh snow angel and a family you could hear laughing from the penthouse. “I’m sure the Covey are, too. And your parents.”

“My parents were. And the Covey are. I hope one day, you can meet them.” You turned to him, that crease in your brow back.

“I’d love to.” Coryo took hold of your hand, noticing that you’d taken up an unsettled look. “Should we get some air? Grandma’am keeps roses on the roof, might be nice to see them in the snow.”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

The roof was nice, you could see the entirety of the Capitol from up there - roofs engulfed in white, and the snow-covered roses were such a beautiful sight. You plucked one of the stems, after Coryo said you could, and simply stared at the thing. Back home, flowers were everywhere, they felt like warm hugs, like trips to the lake, like your mama. It was rare that you saw them growing in the Capitol.

“It’s beautiful up here.” You commented as you took a seat at the edge of the rooftop. “You can see the whole city.”

“It is beautiful.” Coryo sat next to you, shoulders touching, pinky fingers travelling closer to eachother and then pulling back, looking forward but watching eachother out of the corner of your eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

Coryo had let it slip, and he took in a deep breath and held it for a while after speaking. You tried not to let your smile get too wide, worried it would border on psychotic-looking if you let it reach it’s full potential. Beautiful, Coriolanus Snow called you beautiful.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, quietly, only loud enough to be picked up by the soft breeze and carried over to Coriolanus. “Thank you, Coryo. I think you’re beautiful.”

Coriolanus looked down and laughed, shaking his head at you. You let your pinkies intertwine, now. “You’re just saying that because I said it.”

“I mean it. Anyone would be stupid not to think it.” Then all of your fingers were locked together. And you sighed and let your head fall onto Coryo’s shoulder. He smiled to himself, and then, in a quick surge of confidence, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and decided to speak his mind.

“You know I love you, right?" He blurted out. He didn’t regret it, but he was nervous, now. If he’d learned anything this Christmas Eve, it was that you made him nervous.

"I know." You closed your eyes and breathed in the cold air, “I love you, too."

"But I mean, really love you." Coryo took his hand from yours and, instead, draped his arm around your back, fingers reaching up to fidget with your hair. “You're very easy to fall in love with."

"Hm." You hummed and removed your head from his shoulder to look up at him. Your cheeks were flushed and your breath made little clouds in between your two faces. “I think you're very easy to fall in love with, too, Coryo."

You were so close, noses touching, Coryo’s hand still twirling one lock of your hair around and around. And then your lips were on his, his hand gripping the back of your neck, kissing you with a hunger, a passion, you’d never felt before. Not feverishly, not sexual in nature, just real, raw passion. You’d meant what you said. Coriolanus Snow was incredibly easy to love, and you did. You loved him. And he loved you. Nothing else had ever seemed to simple in your entire life.

Coryo couldn’t imagine a world, now, where your lips hadn’t been on his. Where you hadn’t called him beautiful. He was on a high, an all time high, he was convinced. Snow lands on top.

The snowflakes continued falling, landing on your heads, noses, the roses. And you let them, with no resentment, no upset. Because Coryo was there, everything was easy, now.

[your-absolute-destiny]

Offscreen Post

The first thing Lucky noticed once she exited the Pelipper was just how big Gen’s house was.

It was far larger than her own home, with three stories, and many windows allowing a peek inside, though curtains obscured much of what laid within. It had a front yard, too, with a tree on the right side of a path to the front door.

It was almost like a mansion. Almost. Almost enough to distract herself from her situation.

But not quite.

She was so in awe at the house, that she almost missed the front door opening, and a small creature waddling out. It looked almost like an Oshawott, but had a fin atop its head, and a large curly tail. It also wore some sort of red hood.

That must be Gen.

Gen waddled towards Lucky, fidgeting with the hood he wore. His tail slowly swayed from side to side, as he came face to face with her.

“Um…L-Lucky?” Gen asked, looking up at her. “I, uh. I’m g-glad you made it here s-safely.”

“I'm glad too,” Lucky said quietly, still scared after the sudden changes to her body and nervous about this new housing arrangement falling through.

“I, uh. I-I have something I need t-to confess to you,” Gen says, beginning to tremble.

Panic coursed throughout the already shaken girl. What was it? Did they not have enough space for her after all? Was she going to have to go back?

“What's wrong?” Lucky asks, as calmly as she can in this scenario, which is to say not very much.

“...m-my family, uh. We, um…” Gen takes a deep breath, then admits, “We’ve b-been housing d-dark types. And fairy, gh-ghost, and psychic types.”

“What!?” Lucky exclaims, alarmed at the idea of having to share space with such types, before remembering she herself is a dark type now. Before she could continue, though, Gen spoke again.

“...I’m s-sorry,” Gen says, looking down. “I j-just. I saw your blog, w-with so many people being mean to you, a-and…you just seemed s-so alone. I thought y-you could use a friend.”

“Thank you, I really did need one. Still need one right now, actually, since I don't have any others anymore.” Lucky felt tears threaten to fall from her eyes at the reminder that she could no longer return home.

“...um. W-would you like a hug?” Gen asks, looking back up at Lucky.

The dam bursts at the offer, and tears spill freely.

“Yes!” Lucky all but yells before choking out a sob.

Gen waddles closer, and puts his paws around one of Lucky’s forelegs, while wrapping his tail around her other foreleg.

It takes a second for Lucky to realize that this is hugging but eventually she gets it, leaning down to rest her head on top of Gen's. It's nothing like the hugs she used to get from her mother whenever she felt this upset, but it was the best she was going to get.

After a bit of hugging, Gen eventually pulls away, and turns around. “Um, r-ready to go inside?”

The absol hybrid shoved down the urge to say ‘No, I'm not. I want to go home and pretend this never happened now!’ because as much as she wished to do that, it wasn't an option.

“I'm ready.”

And so, the two of them walked forth, into Lucky’s new home.

[marginofthought]

Your last post about S8-9 preggo Sam 😩😩😩😩I NEED to know what happens next

Okay, my favorite headcanon here is that they actually figure out that something isn’t right with “Ezekiel” quicker and they manage to evict him early. I’m not the best at drawn out angst (i love my happy endings too much) so be warned:

Sam came back to himself, not slowly but all at once and he bent over in the chair to get his breathing under control until he stopped when he couldn't bend as far as he should be able to.

He opened his eyes just to see his shirt extended, stretched tight over the huge sphere his stomach had become.

His breathing picked up further but he just couldn’t get any oxygen into his lungs. He must have been wheezing by now but he couldn’tt hear himself, the rushing in his ears too loud for anything else.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him, why did he look like that? And why couldn’t he remember how he got here or even where he was?

Sam couldn’t even remember where he thought he should have been, he just knew that this was wrong.

A hand rubbing between his shoulder blades finally let Sam tune back into his surroundings and soon Dean’s low murmur registered in his ears.

By the time Sam finally was able to get his breath under control and looked up, there was no one but Dean in the room.

“I wanna go home,” he mumbled out.

“We can do that,” Dean replied, a little startled. “We can definitely do that.”

His older brother helped him up and kept a hand on him until Sam was sitting down in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean rounded the car and slid in next to him, turning to him immediately.

“You okay to drive?” Dean asked him, his hand twitching as if it wanted to reach out.

Sam nodded before turning and letting his head rest against the window. He wanted to curl up like he had done when he was ten and twenty but at thirty his stomach was in the way.

He stared out of the window, his eyes losing focus as the landscape rushed by them, just like it had happened a thousand times but nothing like it at the same time.

Sam didn’t say anything on their way back. There was nothing he could think of to say.

–

The mirror was fogging up again, no matter how many times Sam wiped at it.

He didn’t want to see himself. Yet at the same time he knew he had to.

It was more of an inspection really.

He still had ten fingers and ten toes, any sallowness he’d had from the trials was gone. He objectively looked fine.

Except for the fact he hadn’t just gained back the lost weight, he had added to it.

There were red marks on the side of his belly, where he had pushed and pulled the flesh. He could feel the huge solid bump, knowing it was not fat, he could feel it and see it but couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be.

Sam was lean, had grown out of his chubbiness by age thirteen, had been a lanky teen and had always kept himself on the leaner side after that.

He wasn’t supposed to be like this, had always been careful with his eating and his birth control, had always made sure that his partners were wrapping it, hadn’t he?

Obviously not. Obviously he had let Dean in without it.

He couldn’t remember, didn’t know.

The mirror in front of him turned blurry as he tried to think back to when he last felt like himself. He remembered Dean coming back, the heartbreak and guilt when talking about Amelia and Purgatory, the shame but also the love for his brother, the elation everytime he looked over and saw green eyes looking back.

He remembered the relief at gutting that hellhound in Idaho, knowing he could spare Dean the pain and suffering that was sure to come, knowing he might be able to atone for some of his latest sins.

Things got blurry after that, he vividly remembered purgatory and hell, Bobby’s soul, but the rest was clouded by a heavy layer of misery. He guessed it must have happened then, seeking solace and comfort from Dean without his usual hypervigilance.

And once was enough right?

Sam startled when sharp knocks rattled the door.

“Sammy?” Dean’s tone was worried.

Sam would have liked to assuage his brother but he couldn’t face him now. Maybe never. No, not never.

Dean knocked again and even rattled the door knob.

Of course he wouldn’t leave.

“I’m fine.” Sam rasped out, loud enough to be heard. Satisfied when no more knocks follow.

The cool air hit, damp skin pebbled up. The worst was his stomach, the hair standing up and drawing his attention back to the problem at hand.

He framed it with his hands, the mirror showing the illusion of something he might have wanted ten years ago. Round with Dean’s child. A naive dream back then. Maybe a nightmare now.

Sam ripped his hands away, pulling another towel around himself to hide his image from the mirror.

He strode out of the shower room, the hallway surprisingly empty, though he guessed Dean was just around the corner, listening in.

As long as he stayed around the corner.

..

Sam was blissfully left alone the rest of the night. The bliss ended with the start of the day.

Hunger had driven him to the kitchen. He would have normally ignored the feeling. It wasn’t just him anymore, he knew. He had a new, even if unwilling, obligation. Had to take care of what was growing inside him.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed as he entered the kitchen.

Sam looked up from his bowl of healthy cereal. It didn’t taste right. It didn’t matter.

“Shit, fuck, Sammy.” Dean repeated and sat down heavily across from Sam.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let him-” His brother said when Sam didn’t reply. “I didn’t know.”

And well, that could just mean a hundred things, couldn’t it. There were too many things Dean could apologize for. Too many things Sam should apologize for.

“No you shouldn’t have.” Sam replied.

There was a choking noise from across the table but Sam couldn’t look at Dean. He couldn’t even see the table in front of him, could only see Gadreel’s smug face, could feel his presence taking over his life. He had been inside him, been inside the most vulnerable parts. He had taken over because of Dean.

Sam shoved away from the table, his spoon clattering to the floor.

“I gotta-” he mumbled out, fleeing down the hallway and back towards his room. He needed to be alone, safe.

..

There was a tray with lunch and a protein bar in front of his room when he tried to sneak to the bathroom. The food was still steaming. Sam hated Dean just a little for being so caring.

Gadreel’s solid schedule had Sam’s body used to regular meals now and Sam wasn’t used to it anymore. But apparently Dean was.

But then again, Dean could solidly remember the last year.

Sam couldn't.

He wanted every bite to taste like ash, to find a reason to not finish it, but he couldn’t do that either.

…

Sam had felt like his bump was haunting him. Like it was a ghost.

If he didn't see it, he didn’t have to believe it was there. Whenever he caught sight of it, he got spooked.

Dean had left an oversized shirt on his bed that morning while Sam had been showering. It had made affection for his brother swell in his chest for the first time since he had been alone in his head again.

Sam had pulled it over his head, glad to see it cover his abdomend a little better. Though nothing could truly hide the deformity.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” Sam said in greeting when Dean spotted him wearing the shirt.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little brother.” Dean replied casually but Sam could see the tightness in his eyes.

…

It emboldened Dean anyway and his brother ran a hand across Sam’s shoulder after their silent lunch and even squeezed Sam’s hand before he left for his bedroom that night.

Sam didn’t like to admit it but he was missing Dean, even though he knew that it was his own fault for hiding away.

But Sam was still trying to put together the last few months and he couldn’t take Dean’s guilt yet. His own feelings and thought were too jumbled to regard someone else's.

…

Sam was sitting in his bed, his book distraction fallen next to him, a weird feeling in his belly. He rested a hand against the swell, shocked by the press against it.

No.

That wasn't.

No.

As if summoned, Dean knocked on Sam’s door. Sam was quicker in speaking

“How far along am I?”

Dean’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open a little. Sam knew that it was the first time he had acknowledged the pregnancy since they had come back to the bunker and Dean had obviously not expected it.

“Uh-” Dean stuttered for a moment. “We think around eight and a bit months or somewhere there.”

Sam nodded absentmindedly. “I think I felt it m-”

“It’s mine, right?” Dean interrupted Sam, though he looked deservedly chastised when Sam shot him a cutting glare.

“Yes, Dean. I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” Sam ground out.

Dean looked guilty and unsure.

“Leave, Dean.”

…

“I’m genuinely sorry, Sammy. I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again to save you, but I still am sorry.” Dean burst out the next time Sam finally left his room.

Sam didn’t want to talk, not to Dean, not to anyone. Not true, actually. He had been talking, had been talking to the fetus, unwillingly, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He was feelings things and he didn't know why.

He was trying his hardest to wrap his head around what had happened. He needed to understand it in order to break it down and put it away, needed to shove it in his neatly made drawers in his mind.

He was pregnant.

It was Dean’s.

The last few months were jumbled and missing pieces.

Dean had shoved an angel inside him.

He wasn’t dead because of Dean.

Dean had saved him.

He would have saved Dean too.

“Sammy?” Dean’s words shook Sam out of him thoughts.

“Hmh?”

“I’m-”

He’s sorry. Sam knew it, even without the words.

Lips pressed against lips in order to shut the older brother up.

“Not forgiven.” Sam mumbled but kept close, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Got it.”

…

Sam had questions.

So many questions.

He needed to fill gaps, both in time and in knowledge.

Dean was dutiful in his responses, filling Sam in.

His brother had questions too. Sam couldn’t always answer but he tried at least.

“Feel,” Sam said, pulling Dean’s hand against his. There was a flutter under his skin again and the horror of it had lessened. He didn’t know why. But it was Dean’s and maybe that was enough for now.

“Fuck,” his brother exclaimed, falling to his knees. Kisses were pressed into Sam’s flesh, the closest contact they've had in weeks and for some reason Sam didn’t want to stop him.

His brother seemed to notice too as he sat back on his heels, wide eyes staring at Sam.

Neither pulled away.

“It won’t be linear.”

“I know and I don’t care.”

“Can we do this?”

Terrified. Sam felt terrified when he thought about it.

This was real. This was him and Dean and something they had created.

“Yes.”

[mountkennedie]

Slide 'Neath the Waves

King Caspian x mermaid!reader

Summary: On the Dawn Treader, you lure Caspian into the sea

Warnings: none

A.N. She/her pronouns and reader has breasts. Can you tell how much I love mermaid!reader yet????

The Dawn Treader was slicing through the water, and the setting sun was illuminating the wounds. Caspian had been watching the waves crash and collide from the window in his room. The sight always calmed him when his duties became overwhelming. He found peace in feeling the ship rock from side to side. What he did not expect was to see a woman among those waves. Seeming to be one with the current around her.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He rushed up on deck, taking a lantern with him. Upon reaching the main rail, he looked out over the water for any sign of the beautiful woman he had just set sights on. After no luck, he turned to leave. Caspian then heard the most alluring voice begin to vocalize over the water.

It sucked the air out of his chest. Without a second thought, he found himself heading straight in the direction of the voice. And there he saw her. There he saw you.

The dying sun had long laid to rest. And in its place, the fair moon rose, illuminating your skin. You looked out of a dream to the captain. Many stories he had heard from crewmates and others about the folk that could live beneath the waves. And the power they can have on those above. But now, all those stories were nothing but fiction. How could something, someone, that is so beautiful be such a danger?

~

You approached the boat. You kept your scales hidden for the time being. Some pieces of wood along the side of the ship stuck out, giving you just enough to grip and pull yourself upward. You didn't go too far, just enough to show some scales that peppered your waist. You kept your eyesight on him, wanting to keep the handsome man locked on you.

You raised a hand upwards to him. In hopes that you built up a need in him to see more of you. Having seen your sister lure men, you know what attracts them best. You arched your back smoothly, making sure your breasts were highlighted by the moonlight streaming in.

~

Caspian's eyes widened. Never had he ever seen a more beautiful woman, especially one so exposed. He did not stare, remembering some manners. However, his gaze instead lingered on her compelling eyes. His hand reached to meet the maiden, but he could not close the gap between them.

Growing frustrated by the delay of your skin on his, he looked for something to pull you closer to him. A rope lay at his feet, and he grabbed it. He threw it over the edge, and it landed right next to you.

~

You blinked at him. Then, he grabbed the rope and allowed him to pull you up. When the edge was in reach, you grabbed on and propelled yourself up. You sat on the rail and looked at him. He didn't speak a word. You took a chance and reached toward him.

He really was very beautiful. You had a choice to make. Feast upon him, or simply take him with you? You were leaning on plainly taking him, but sparing his life. You gently took a strand of hair that had fallen in his face and placed it behind his ear.

"Are you my jolly sailor bold?" You asked.

~

Your voice was pure silk to the captain. He held your hand in place, on his face. Not wanting you to be far from him at all. Caspian knew it was rude to not verbally respond to your question. But he could not even muster the word 'yes'.

He only furrowed his eyebrows in defeat and nodded yes.

~

Your hand that remained on his face brought him close. You had made your decision, and you would spare the life of this man. So you brought him upon your lips, in a kiss that would bless him to breathe below the waves.

He melted on you, as to be expected. And when you pulled back, he looked as though you were his only priority. Like you were his only reason for living.

~

Caspian found himself, climbing onto the railing with the fair creature. Her kiss flooded his senses completely. All duties and responsibilities died on land, for he was now part of the sea.

Together, they slid from the Dawn Treader and into the endless oblivion of the ocean for eternity.

[sunnydreams17]

(( Part 7 of Hannibal: A Heart That Bleeds Gold

It was so peaceful..... for once in his life Will felt as if he could stay in this state forever. Everything was dark, he couldn't see a thing in front of him at all. He felt as if he was floating in a world he never knew was real....yet it felt so familiar.

That's when Will saw something move in the dark and then it got closer and closer till he saw a younger version of himself. It was that poor little boy all those years ago. That little boy with no family, no life, and no hope.

" I'm sorry"

The young Will said softly as he looked down " I'm so sorry for leaving.... I didn't mean to...I've never meant to! I just wanted to go see the world? Just a little! Even from the window.... please, give me one more chance! I'll do better! I'll give you what you want! You wanna be like...like a God? Right? I'll do it! I'll look deep inside! And I'll make you one! "

Will stumbled back confused at the words of his younger self. That's when it hit him...this boy wasn't talking to him.

Will remembered this moment and he knew who would be behind him. Will step to the side and glanced to where his younger self was shouting at and saw James " ....this is a... dream? A flashback? " Will said softly

" I went to where you told me! I saw the spirits! I was so close to speaking with God! Yet he was so so so far" the younger Will cried out " but I'll try again! I'll make you proud!....w....we can....we can be a family..... you said you'll be my papa if I did what you wanted! I'm doing it! So...so you'll be my papa? Yes? Even if I mess up?"

" are you done speaking? " James voice was cold and his face showed no emotion. " you really think I want to be family with someone like you? A curse? You can't even do anything right yet you wish to be my son? You go against my orders....you go to the window when I've told you many times don't go to it" James walked over to younger Will and toward over him" little boys like you need to be taught lessons.... I know~ that little friend of yours yes? Let me go speak to him"

" NO NO NOT ALEX " this time it wasn't younger Will that said that.... no it was the older Will " please... James " Will reached out for James but stopped half way when he saw his younger self and James turn to him and say

" you're not supposed to be here "

And then that's when Will felt a slam of life go into his body and he jolted up in bed gasping loudly. His heart going crazy as he grabbed at his blanket.

" Will!? " hurried steps came up to a door before it was almost slammed open. Hannibal rushed in going right to Will " Will calm down " he reached for the other and gentle touched his cheek " hush....shhhh " he pulled Will into an embrace and runs his fingers through Will brown curly hair " you're safe now.... I promise you you're safe "

Will didn't even know how to respond to this at all. Though, his body physically started to calm down as he leans against Hannibal. Wills head rested against Hannibals chest as he takes deep breaths " .... sorry" he whispers and closed his eyes " sorry I didn't mean to....to just act up like that " he pushed away from Hannibal gently " where are we? " Will looked around the room confused, till he saw a window. I mean after the dream he had he probably didn't even want to go to a window but Will did. He got up and walked towards it hearing the familiar sounds of chickens screaming about, children running to school, people shouting out prices for their goods, and those damn church bells

" were....in Luna? " Will whispers as he looked out the window in shock. That's when it hit him.... he had ran to the village to find something out... to see if James was alive and he was " what happened?

" Will you shouldn't get out of bed just yet" Hannibal said yet he sat on the bed smiling softly as he admired Will.... there was something attractive about Will being distressed and confused " I would also like an answer to that question as well. You just passed out right in the middle of the road. You were near a church " Hannibal takes out his watch " there was a man.... I think a priest " he taps the watch gently with his finger " he said your name.... he was going to take you into the church but I stopped him and said you are under my protection"

Hannibal gets off of the bed walking to Will " and that I can't let you out my sight, not even for a small second " he brushed his hand against Will and gentle pulls Will away from the window

" so why didn't you take me back to the kingdom? Why did you stay here? " Will asked and moves his hand from Hannibal as he takes a step back

" well because the priest asked if we could have dinner with him tonight " Hannibal smiled and allowed Will to get his space....at least for now " and you did run here so that means you wanted to stay here....you know it's very weird that you know this village is here. Not many golds know of this village at all...actually, this village is on no maps or anything so how did you know it was here? "

Now Will was taken back with fear and worry. Fear because the priest asked for dinner with them and worry because Hannibal was getting onto him " I could ask the same for you.... how do you know of this village? You're acting like you've known of this village more then I have "

" oh my dear Will~ I know of this village because I'm a commander sweetie " Hannibal hums softly " now, how do you know of this village? You're just a profiler~ how does a profiler know so much about the outside world~

" stop it.... just leave me alone! I just...I had a feeling there was something around the area and I followed my instinct" Will turns away annoyed now by everything. Who the hell did Hannibal think he was!? The damn king!? " maybe you should just stick your nose somewhere else and leave me out of whatever you're thinking I've done " Will marched towards the bedroom door pissed off till he felt Hannibals hands icy cold on his skin.

Will stumbled back when he got yanked by the arm and his back slams right into Hannibals chest. " what the hell do you think you're doing!? LEAVE ME ALONE

" you've lied to me so many times in just this conversation alone~ and I've warned you already about how I hate when people lie to me" Hannibal tightens his grip against Will and gently brushed his lips against Wills ear " naughty boys needs to be punished~ " he bits Will ear " but I hate breaking things I like~

" what?" Will felt a shiver go through his whole body at the feeling of Hannibals touch " let me go! I'm done with this shit! You think you can just get away doing this to me!? " Wills eyes widen when he got bit lucky for him it wasn't enough to get blood to leak

" doing what? Disciplining a man that lies? "

Will rolled his eyes at that statement" and what have I lied about to you? Mr. Saint" he growled

Hannibal chuckled softly and sighs " about this village~ about most of everything really~ it's funny that you say you just felt like there was something here because it's so hard to get to this village. Our kingdom works hard to keep this village a secret and only the reds that live here know the path to get in~ yet someone like you~ thats never supposedly left the kingdom and went outside its walls till now has found it so fast~ my dear Will~ no more lies~ " he hugs Will softly taking in his scent and God was it intoxicating " when you slammed onto the floor there was blood"

Will felt his heart stop for a second and the more Hannibal spoke the more he felt sick. Will only gave up when Hannibal said there was blood. Will knees buckled under him and thank God Hannibal was there to hold him up " ....blood? .... that could have been from an animal"

" no need to call yourself an animal Will" Hannibal gently picks Will up and carried him to the bed " That beautiful red blood came right from your head " he placed Will down on the bed and leans in close " I won't tell a soul~ rest up... tonight we have a dinner with the priest" and with that Hannibal left

And Will sat on that bed so many new fears going through him. Though, one thing went through Wills head out of everything. With the amount of times his been close to Hannibal.

" I've not heard a single heartbeat come from that man"

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hi it’s for the sprint event, prompt 7 with Kuki Shinobu.

She was busy for the day so R had to deal with the gang’s mess in her place.

“Go and take some rest, I’ll do the rest.”

Characters: Kuki Shinobu x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I haven't written for Shinobu in quite a while (I think), so it was nice being able to do it again, especially since I love her.

I hope this matches what you wanted, if you don't like it, feel free to tell me and I'll try again once I find the time/motivation.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Kuki Shinobu

Shinobu was well known to many people in Inazuma, from the normal day to day person that would visit her for advice in one of the many things she had gained expertise in, to police officers that got to see her whenever she had to get the rest of the Arataki-gang out of trouble, respecting her judgment and capability for dishing out punishments enough to let them out each and every time… even if it was just a matter of time until they did something stupid again.

And while it was obvious that you didn’t automatically command the same respect as her just because you were her partner, whoever saw the way you acted and helped her out was likely to see you in a good light and far more willing to do you a favor, especially when you asked in Shinobu’s name.

Shinobu was late. Something that didn’t necessarily mean that anything happened, since there were days where the number of people asking for advice was far too high for her to finish in whatever time she took from her day to tend to them. But considering how you had seen around a dozen soldiers march off in the direction of the “next big event hosted by the Arataki-Gang” just an hour or so ago, you had more than just a few doubts that nothing had happened.

So when you heard the front door finally slide open, only to see Shinobu walk in, visibly frustrated, you considered your theory all but confirmed.

“Ugh. I wish that idiot would just listen to me for once. I told him exactly that this was going to happen”, she complained to herself, fists clenched as she hurried to the living room, only to slow down when she encountered you. “Oh, you’re still awake?”, she asked, you finding yourself responding with a nod.

“Of course, it’s not that late. The sun didn’t set more than an hour ago”, you stated, causing her to look out of the window before tiredly rubbing her eyes.

“I see. It felt a lot later to me”, Shinobu responded, having all but calmed down from her fury just a few moments ago. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to head out again. That ‘gang’ got itself arrested again and I once again have to get them out somehow… even if I can’t help but wonder if leaving them there a little bit longer might teach them a lesson.”

Even without her taking off her mask and revealing the lower half of her face, you could see how tired she was, causing you to quickly stand up before walking over to her.

“I think you already did enough today. Go and take a rest, I’ll do the rest”, you offered, only for her to slightly shake her head while taking off her mask, letting out a small yawn while she was at it.

“Thanks, but I’ll doubt the guards will remember who you are and that you’re asking in my name, so going there will only result in me having to do the same when it’s even later”, she explained, only for you to quickly counter.

“Come on, they’ll know you sent me. Who other than you would care enough to get that bunch of idiots out?”, you joked, causing a small smile to appear on her face.

“That does sound plausible. Alright, but let me write you something, just in case they aren’t as cooperative”, Kuki responded before walking over to the table, writing something on a small slip of paper, putting her stamp on it and handing it to you once she was done. Sending you with a small kiss on the cheek.

The moment you left through the door, she let herself collapse onto the nearest chair, silently thanking the electro archon that she had you.

[clavissionary-position]

You Bring A Rooster Into Gilbert's Bedroom

Gilbert x Reader, 800+ words

C R A C K

(I saw there was a thing omkookie wrote recently about Gilbert and raccoons, and while I haven't really read it, I wanted to acknowledge it! The idea itself sort of inspired this.)

+ + + +

The Rooster had a remarkably cushy life back in Rhodolite. It is unknown how it traveled all the way to Obsidian, or how you were able to recognize it so clearly, so immediately, as it clucked past your window.

Thinking you would figure out a way to send it back, you run out onto your balcony and pick the lady up, dusting the top of her head off. Then you turn on your heel and launch yourself back in through the open window, rolling into a crouch and entering your room.

That you share with Gilbert. And Gilbert rolls over in his sleep and smacks his lips. The sunlight coming in through the curtains cuts a sharp line over his features.

You set The Rooster up with a cushy perch atop one of the bed posts.

"I'll get you some food. Please don't wake Gil."

The Rooster nods and begins roosting on the egg-shaped thingy on top of the bed post. She'll make it hatch, somehow.

You leave the room.

Gilbert wakes up. "You have the goods?"

The Rooster clucks once in the affirmative.

Gilbert holds out his open palm.

The Rooster shimmies its neck as it regurgitates something before depositing it onto Gilbert's hand.

Gilbert holds the object up to the light. "Just the one?"

The Rooster clucks.

"This was not our agreement."

The Rooster clucks.

"Who do you think I am? Getting you back into Rhodolite will be as simple as getting the Little Rabbit to do so for me."

The Rooster clucks twice.

"Chevalier has better things to do than be on chicken-watch."

The Rooster clucks.

"I have a thousand years of dirt on Clavis. He'll stay in his place."

The Rooster makes the shape of a pair of glasses with her wings.

"The Palace Devil is a concern, but I can easily set up a diversion for him to attend to on the day of your arrival."

The Rooster thinks this over. Then it gives a cluck.

Gilbert smiles. "I'm not normally one to give second chances, but I can't trust anyone else with this job. However, you will remember that a third chance from an Obsidian prince is fable."

The Rooster nods.

"Rest-assured that if you do this for me you will enjoy the highest quality of life and want for nothing. Your eggs and offspring will of course be cared for as well."

The Rooster clucks.

"Of course I eat omelettes. Food is food. I'm not going to stop just because one chicken does something for me."

The Rooster clucks defiantly.

Gilbert's smile deepens. "Good, good. I like that fighting spirit. I'll remember it the next time I trample an egg into a bowl."

"Gil? Who are you talking to?"

Gilbert points to The Rooster. "My friend here."

You laugh. "You're so random." You walk over to the bed post and hold up a bowl of make-do chicken feed. "Did you sleep well?"

Gilbert sits up. "You were moving around too much. Perhaps I need to give you something before you sleep?"

"From that bizarro doctor of yours? No thank you. I value my taste-buds." You slide back into the bed and plop your head onto Gilbert's lap.

"So you don't care about how well I sleep?" Gilbert begins running his hand through your hair. "You're so unkind to me, Little Rabbit."

"And you slip too many suspicious things into my drinks."

Gilbert laughs. "I didn't know you preferred to lead a life of suffering. But then again, you are with me."

You wrap your hand around the one Gilbert has on your head. "That I am." Something feels off to you. "Wait, what's..." You bring your hand to your ear. You weren't wearing earrings before but there's clearly something on your ear now. More than that, the shape feels eerily familiar. "I thought I lost these..."

"It doesn't look bad. I wish it were black though." Gilbert pinches your nose. "You'll have to do something for me if you want the other one back."

"You're holding my jewelry hostage now?"

"How is it anything of the sort if you're mine and all your belongings are mine?"

"Because you're mine, and I think that supersedes everything."

Gilbert goes quiet for a moment. Your words float in the quiet of the room as if the recipient is afraid to touch them.

The Rooster clucks.

Gilbert snaps at The Rooster. "Your commentary is unnecessary, thank you very much."

It's quite a sight. You decide to humor his silly make-believe. "And pray tell what did The Rooster say?"

Gilbert sighs. "That I've gone soft." He deflates back against the headboard. "Have I gone soft? I have, haven't I..."

"I don't think it's that." You sit up and cuddle into Gilbert's side. "You're like a boiled egg and-"

The Rooster clucks.

Gilbert laughs. "She doesn't appreciate that analogy."

[domquixotedospobresblog]

How is that love that I wanted so much one day, I don't know where she is or if she's married, I wonder if she remembers me, the looks she returned so much, that rosy little face from the day I held her hand, I wonder if she forgot that little boy who insisted on writing me so many love letters, all thrown in her garden, and after reading them, she smiled when she saw me the next day at school, I who rode my bike and also played ball in front of her house, we looked at each other several times from afar, leaning out of our windows, until someone appeared calling us for dinner, does she have children, or has she simply decided to be alone like me, maybe she sits on the porch of her new garden, waiting for a letter to fly over the fence, and she runs desperately and hopefully that in a few lines, she can hear news of me, and there written the same as always, "Ana, do you want to be my girlfriend" and with that deep sigh, she presses the letter to her chest and screams out loud loud, now without the fear of parents hearing, yess ...I do want it, in fact I always wanted it, come so we can be happy, should I write this little letter again and go from garden to garden, looking for my little girl with the orange bow?

Jonas r Cezar

[jovialtorchlight]

AS YOU ONCE WERE

A short play by Jonny Bolduc

Characters:

VOICE: You, in a dream.

YOU. You, as you are.

CHILD: You, are you once were. 

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

VOICE:

The door flies open.

YOU:

Damn. This is it. The house I grew up in. The blue armchair in the living room, the hardwood floor, the desk by the window. I remember every divot in the carpet. Can I…go into my room?

VOICE O.S:

It’s your dream. You can do whatever you want. But there’s something you should know. The junk drawer, the one that squeaked really loud every time it opened and annoyed the shit out of dad is stuffed full of handwritten apology notes.

YOU:

Apology notes? To who?

VOICE: 

I’ll tell you in a moment. But get this. The hamster you buried in the backyard in 2005  is scurrying across  the kitchen countertops. Fresh sheets,  still hot from the dryer are parachuted  on the bed. Sims 2 is loaded up on the  white brick computer.

YOU:

Holy shit. Can..can I stay here?

VOICE:

No. 

YOU:

Oh. 

VOICE: 

Tell me something.

How are your days? How have you been living?

YOU:

I haven’t. I haven’t really been living. I have given myself to the flow of

the days that do not  understand  mercy or  what it means  to cry “uncle”. I have burned this house in my mind. I have razed this memory to the ground. I have tried to end my life twice.

VOICE. O.S:

Huh. Interesting. You know, I think someone here might be able to help you. 

Come on in.

A CHILD enters, clad in a baseball cap. 

CHILD:

Hi.

YOU:

Hi. Are you…?

CHILD: 

You?  Yeah, I am. 

YOU:

Me. As a..kid?

CHILD:

As a ten year old. 

YOU:

Woah. 

CHILD:

Yeah!

YOU:

So. I was, uh, wondering something. 

CHILD:

Whatsup? 

YOU:

Can I stay here?

CHILD:

I don’t think so. Why? Is the future not good? I mean, are we not happy?

YOU:

No. We’re…not.

CHILD:

Why not? What’s wrong? Are we not a famous writer? 

YOU:

No. And look, it’s just…time hasn’t been kind to us. Time has taken and taken and taken and we’ve been battered by the unrelenting force of the days. The terror of the nights. 

It’s like every day, another heavy stone is dropped onto my chest. I just…I can’t take it anymore. 

I gave up. 

On life.

CHILD:

You gave up on us? What? How could you? 

Why?  Is there nothing else to learn? No books to read? No time to go look into the water of a pond and see the water teeming with tadpoles and triops and waterbeds and life? No good video games? No time to give  mom a hug? 

What could be so bad that you would want to do that? I mean, things can be dark and scary and bad, right now.  The  dark corner of the  basement where  I saw a ghost.  The terrible roar of  the furnace echoing in the dark. When I get real trapped in my thoughts and my chest gets tight and I get sweaty and panic. When I get sad for no reason and want to get lost in the woods and never come back to school. But I keep going. 

You’re telling me…we aren’t worth it?  

YOU:

I’m so sorry. 

I’ve tried to get better. To get help. But every fucking day—

CHILD:

That’s a bad word. 

YOU:

I’m sorry. Every day is full of stress and terror and failing. I just…I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t get better. I’ve tried so many times and I keep falling back down into this pit of black. 

CHILD:

Look. It's okay. Want to play Animal Crossing? That always makes me feel better when I'm sad. Or we could look for frogs at the grassy edge of the retention pond. 

YOU:

I would love to. But do we have time? 

CHILD:

Of course we have time.  Obviously, you can’t stay here forever. But you can find someone like me. A kid who needs what we needed when we were younger. And if you help, if you make things better…some of the sadness will go away.

 I can’t stay here forever, either. I’m gone. I’m a part of you, now. But we can do this. We can find the light again. We can feel safe. 

We can do it together.

YOU:

I’m so sorry.

CHILD:

It’s ok. 

Want to play Super Smash Brothers?

YOU:

Absolutely. 

I’m going to beat you. 

CHILD:

No way!

Grabs cap off of CHILD’s head. CHILD reaches for it, and they run off, laughing. 

END

[unorthodoxsavvy]

The Philver Scream

The American Nightmare

Chapter 6

Word Count: 75k

Rated: R

Genre: Horror

Phil sat at his kitchen table with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a mug of hot tea in his hands. He hadn’t noticed, but it was the mug his brother Martyn had given him. The hot liquid had called out the constellations of stars, but Phil was too busy staring straight ahead at a knot in his wooden table while Dan paced back in forth in front of him on the phone.

“Yeah. Yeah, it just happened. Yeah, I got over here as quick as I could. No, you don’t need to come up. We’ll be there tomorrow. I don’t know, I’ll think of something. Yeah, I’ll tell him. He’s in no shape to talk to anyone. He’s like, in shock or something. No, not like medically, but he may as well be. Yeah. I won’t. Okay.”

Dan pulled away his cell phone from his ear and ended the call.

He slipped his phone in his jacket’s pocket and glanced at the time on the stove.

“If we leave now we can make it by lunch,” Dan commented, more to himself than anything.

He stopped his pacing and pulled out the other chair at the kitchen table, sitting down.

“Phil?”

Phil continued to stare at the table.

“Phil?”

Phil looked up at him.

“Phil, I need to know what you saw,” Dan explained gently. 

Phil didn’t say anything.

“Phil, where was it?”

“I don’t know,” Phil mumbled.

“How many victims?” Phil winced.

Dan rephrased the question.

“How many people died?”

“Children,” Phil mumbled.

“How many children died?”

“Four.”

Dan glanced away for a second, pained.

“Who did this?”

“A man.”

“What did he look like?”

“He had scars on his face. He wore a fedora and a tattered and dirty red and green stripped sweater. He had a glove that had blades on the end of it. They called it a knife-glove.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know. It was always dark when he was there. It was hard to see him clearly.”

Dan paused and pursed his lips in thought.

“Phil?”

Phil didn’t respond.

“Do you remember when you were at my mother’s house? And you held her hands? And you looked through her memories?”

Phil nodded.

“Can you… show me? Can you show me what you saw?”

Phil took a moment to think about it. He supposed he could.

“Yes,” he replied.

Dan held out his hands.

“I don’t want to,” Phil objected, the horrors of his dream still fresh on his mind.

“I’m asking you to,” Dan argued softly.

“I saw you die again.” At this, a tear spilled down Phil’s cheek.

“Please, Phil.” 

Phil hesitated, but slowly, with great restraint, he placed his hands gently in Dan’s, closed his eyes, and squeezed, pushing the memories and thoughts of his dream into Dan.

Dan’s grip on Phil’s hands tightened as he witnessed everything that Phil was able to remember from his dream. There were snippets missing, details that were foggy, but the main gist of it was there. The murders were there.

Dan pulled his hands away.

“Oh my god,” he whispered.

*-*-*-*-*

Dan went upstairs and packed a bag for Phil while Phil sat at the table and drank his tea. It was the morning of August 14th, and it was still dark out. Dan came back downstairs and loaded Phil into his car and drove all the way back to his house. Phil sat in the car and waited while Dan packed a bag for himself.

Dan popped the trunk and placed his own overnight bag in the back before climbing back into the front seat to start the long drive back down to Quantico.

Phil leaned against the passenger seat window staring ahead in the dark as Dan’s high beams lit up the road in front of them, illuminating trees, deer on the side of the road, the blades of grass wet with morning dew, and so much more. Phil focused on one thing for a second before the next thing caught his eye.

Dan stared straight ahead without saying a word. The radio was off and Phil didn’t have his earbuds in. There was nothing but the sound of the car and it’s engine and it’s tires as it ate up the miles, bringing them closer and closer to Virginia.

Do you want to talk about it? Phil asked.

I don’t know, Dan answered honestly.

Phil’s eyes flickered towards the corner of the dashboard, as far away from Dan as they could.

We have to talk about it at some point.

I know. But not right now. Not right now.

*-*-*-*-*

Phil wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point he’d fallen asleep, because when he woke up the sun was just starting to peak over the skyline, and they were pulling off 95 towards a McDonalds.

McDonalds coffee is shit.

“I’m hungry.”

Phil didn’t reply.

“I hate when you do that,” Dan said again.

“Sorry,” Phil mumbled, quietly.

Dan spared a quick glance over at Phil. 

“It’s okay. If it feels better for you, you can do that.”

Thanks, Phil smiled.

Dan reached over and ruffled Phil’s hair. Phil closed his eyes in bliss, using every part of his mind to savor his touch.

“Do you want anything?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded.

Dan pulled up to the microphone menu.

“Hi, welcome to McDonalds, how may I help you today?”

“Hi, can I have a large coffee, and two egg McMuffins?”

Dan watched his order come up on the screen while Phil unbuckled his seatbelt next to him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

Phil climbed onto the middle consol as much as his long legs would allow him and shoved his head in front of Dan’s to speak out the window.

“Can I have a breakfast with hot cakes and a large coffee as well?”

Phil slid back into his seat while his order came up on the screen.

“Will that be all for you today?”

Dan glared at Phil as he spoke.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied cheerily while giving Phil a death glare.

“That’ll be twelve eighty-two at the next window.”

“Thanks!” Phil called before Dan could say anything else. Dan took his foot off the brake and slowly rolled around the corner.

“You’re paying,” he said pointedly.

“My wallets in the trunk,” Phil reminded him, but as he was speaking Dan reached into his back pocket and pulled out Phil’s wallet, removing his debit card and paying at the first window.

Phil shrugged and turned to admire the view of early morning crows dumpster diving in the McDonald’s dumpster outside the passenger-side window.

They didn’t have to wait long for their order to be ready this early in the morning, and soon it was back on the road.

Dan side-eyed Phil as Phil scarfed down his food quickly.

“I guess you were hungry too,” he smirked.

Phil shrugged as he chowed down on his eggs. He was watching the GPS slowly count down the miles until they arrived back in Virgina to start everything all over again. Phil couldn’t help but wonder how many times this was going to happen to him. What if this was the rest of his life?

He tried to push the dark thoughts away for the time being as he turned his attention out the window. It was still dark enough for Phil to spot some deer on the side of the road. He hoped they stayed there and didn’t try and cross the interstate. There was no reason for them to. There was nothing better on the other side.

“If you could have any wild animal for a pet, what would you pick?” he asked Dan, trying to distract them both.

Dan tilted his head to the side ever so slightly as he drove and thought.

“A tiger,” he growled.

“You really want to house and feed a tiger?”

Dan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a raccoon. Or, ooh, a red panda. Yeah, I’ll take a red panda. They’re cute.”

“Do you even know what they eat?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, they eat like bamboo and stuff.”

Phil nodded.

“What about you?”

“Maybe a koala.”

“A koala?”

“Yeah. They sleep a lot and they hug you when you pick them up.”

“Don’t they smell weird?”

“I don’t know, do they?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never hugged a koala. Maybe I’m thinking of a sloth. You should get a sloth.”

“Like just go out in the wilderness and pick up a sloth and bring it home?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t survive a day out in the wilderness.”

“I don’t know, you survived being hunted by some secret agency of doctors with guns trying to kill us and stuff. I think you could survive the wilderness.”

“I would cut myself on a tree and get tetanus or something.”

Dan shook his head.

“You need to give yourself more credit. I think you’d be fine.”

Phil shrugged.

“Maybe when all of this is over we can go camping,” Dan suggested.

Phil shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.” To himself, he thought, if Dan was thinking about taking him camping, then he guessed the dream hadn’t scared Dan off from him forever. Not yet, at least.

“When do you think this is all going to be over?” Phil asked, circling back around to his earlier thoughts.

Dan pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Phil, but it won’t go on forever. We’ll catch whoever is doing this.”

“Do you think it’s the same person who did both?” Phil asked.

Dan shook his head. “I don’t know, Phil. I don’t think it’s likely, but look at some of the serial killers we do know about out there. I mean take Israel Keys for example. Guy drove all around the United States killing people with his little premade killing kits in every state. Maybe whoever this is has a similar deal. It’s not totally out of the realm of possibility that the guy can hop state lines killing people, it’s just unlikely. And if it is one guy, then he’s gonna slip up sooner or later, they all do.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be like roughly a hundred or so active serial killers at one time? And I mean, like, they didn’t catch like Jack the Ripper or anything,” Phil argued.

“Jack the Ripper killed less than ten people, didn’t he? Same with The Zodiac. They stopped before they got caught. They weren’t too greedy. It was the ones who were too greedy that got caught. And this guy? If it is the same guy, he seems really greedy. He killed seven kids last month, and another four this month. He’s going big. The bigger you go, the more room there is to mess up and get caught.”

“Do you ever listen to, like, true crime podcasts or anything?” Phil asked.

Dan shook his head. “No, I don’t have time to. And anyway, even if I did, I don’t know if I’d want the input of some crack armchair detectives spewing their own ideas about cases they know nothing about.”

“I think some of them just cover the facts, and a lot of them talk to people who were involved. If you got murdered, you wouldn’t want to end up on a true crime podcast?”

“Hell no. They can keep their noses out of my death. If someone didn’t care enough about you in life, why should they care about you in death?”

“You didn’t know Martyn when he was alive, but you care about him now that he’s dead,” Phil pointed out. 

Dan shook his head.

“That’s different. It was a professional relationship. I was the cop working his case.”

“And so this, this is a professional relationship, then?” Phil asked, hesitantly testing the waters.

Dan sighed. “No,” he admitted. “It’s a working friendship.” He left it at that.

Phil shrugged and searched for something else to talk about.

“So, if you could have any other wild animal as a pet, what would it be?”

Dan rolled his eyes. 

“Isn’t it time to put your headphones back in?” He suggested.

Phil smiled and did just that.

*-*-*-*-*

Lunch was McDonalds, again. Phil didn’t complain, he just gave Dan his order, pointedly staying in his own seat this time. They pulled back off onto 95, windows down and fast food wrappers flapping in tight grips while Dan kept one hand on the steering wheel and Phil kept one earbud in.

Phil watched as a car pushed past them doing near 80 with a little “Baby on Board!” sticker on the back windshield as he delicately held a french fry between two fingers. He harumphed and popped the fry in his mouth.

“If the murders took place over four days, then do you think that your dream was the first night they all died, or the last?” Dan asked, ignoring the car flying by.

“The last, I think. And don’t you want to wait until we talk to Jake?”

Dun shrugged his shoulders, hand holding his whooper. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just so…”

“Vivid?”

“Yeah. It’s stuck in my mind, even if the details are murky and hazy in some places.”

Phil nodded.

“I understand why you had trouble sleeping after this.”

“Thanks,” Phil replied, thinking about how in his dream they’d been sharing a room, sleeping together at a sleepover and then to stay safe against the dream demon, or the man with the knife hand, or whatever or whoever he was. He missed when Dan and him had shared hotel rooms or laid together on the same bed comfortably. Time and distance had changed the nature of their relationship, and Phil didn’t know where he stood with Dan anymore. Not that he ever did, really. And Phil knew his own attitudes about things wasn’t helping. He never sensed any kind of romantic feelings between Jake and Dan, but his mind couldn’t help but be jealous anyway: even if it wasn’t a romantic nature, Dan spoke about Jake in a way he never spoke about Phil. He spent a lot of time with Jake, and revered him. Phil felt like he’d not only taken a backseat, but faded into obscurity in the rearview mirror. And at the same time, he was embarrassed he felt this way to begin with. He was glad his psychic abilities didn’t go both ways; he wouldn’t want Dan seeing his thoughts and how he felt about him. But Phil could reach out and see how Dan was feeling, even if it wasn’t specifically about him.

Phil closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, finding Dan and latching onto him, and letting the feelings flood into him. They were a mirror of his own. Worry, confusion, repulsion at such a horrible dream… what were they going to find this time around? Phil already knew, and he wished he didn’t.

Phil rolled down his window with the crank handle and stuck his face out the window.

“It’s nice that it’s still warm down here,” he commented, letting the wind hit his face and push his worries to the back of his mind.

“Global warming,” Dan muttered.

Phil shrugged. “I know. But it’s nice.”

Dan didn’t rain on his parade any more.

*-*-*-*-*

They pulled into Quantico a little past 1:30 in the afternoon. Jake was waiting for them outside the same building Dan had pulled up to when they first arrived last time. His button down shirt had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his arms were crossed at the chest. As they got closer Phil realized just how disheveled he looked.

“Dan, Phil,” he greeted as he walked to meet them.

He turned towards Phil. “How are you feeling?” he asked, placing a hand on Phil’s arm.

“I’m alright, thanks,” Phil replied genuinely. He still wasn’t Jake’s biggest fan, but he’d been kind and useful to Phil, something that was hard for him to come across.

“Let’s get you both inside, and fill you up with more crappy coffee,” he joked.

Phil followed behind Dan, who followed behind Jake as he led them inside. 

“Have you found anything yet?” Dan asked the question that’d been in both of their minds they entire way down.

Joke glanced over his shoulder while shaking his head. “I’m afraid we haven’t. Are you sure it was New Jersey?”

“I’m sure,” Phil pipped up.

Jake shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter anyway, we haven’t heard squat.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Phil growled under his breath as they stopped outside the ground floor elevator doors. 

Dan put a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “We’ll find them, Phil.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Phil asked quietly, but not quietly enough, it seemed.

“Tell me what?” Jake asked, swiveling to face them while the elevator doors dinged and opened.

They piled inside.

“Part of Phil’s…” Dan hesitated, remembering what Phil had said about him not liking when Dan called them his “gifts” or “abilities”. “Phil can sometimes show people what he’s seen, and people can show him their thoughts too. So I asked, and Phil was able to show me the dream as best as he remembered it himself at the time.”

“So you’ve seen it to?” Jake asked.

“Yes, I have,” Dan confirmed. 

“Can you show me?” Jake asked, as if the words stumbled out of his mouth. Then he waved a hand and shook his head. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Well, two minds are better than one, at least. It’ll be better that we’ll be able to consult both of you now.” Phil couldn’t help but feeling his role in all this had been diminished. Dan had been there to translate what Phil had seen to the FBI. Now, though, Dan has seen everything Phil had. Did they really need Phil anymore? Well, it wasn’t as if they were going to send him home.

“I’ll show you something else some other time,” Phil offered. Jake threw a quick smile and nod over his shoulder as he weaved down the maze of seemingly endless yet similar hallways before stopping at his office door to unlock it.

When he was able to push into the door, he beelined for his desk, taking his seat quickly and jiggling the mouse to his desktop computer while Dan and Phil shuffled in, pulling up chairs to the other side of Jake’s desk.

“I have contacts out with an ear to the ground if anything comes up, but so far I’ve only found a few homicides with two people or less, and quite a few suicides.”

He turned away from his screen to look between the two. Dan and Phil looked at each other.

“Well you’re the FBI agents. Shouldn’t we start taking a closer look at these homicides and suicides?”

“Phil’s right,” Dan agreed, turning back towards Jake. “And besides, it wasn’t all in one night this time.”

Jake leaned back, stroking his chin in thought. “Maybe we should start by you both telling me what exactly happened in Phil’s dream.”

Phil looked at Dan and Dan shrugged. Between the two of them, they started telling Jake everything about the dream. Dan left out the part where he and Phil were in love, though, much to Phil’s relief. He didn’t think he could handle the embarrassment.

“Diazepam?” Jake repeated, interrupting Dan as he was speaking.

“Yeah, in Phil’s dream, he suggested we take Diazepam to help us fall asleep before we could defeat the dream demon.”

Jake did some typing and clicking over on his keyboard and mouse before swiveling around the desktop computer screen to face Dan and Phil. This morning a headline had popped up that read “Double Teen Suicide Inspired by Romeo and Juliet.”

“Romeo and Juliet!” Phil exclaimed. “That was the book they were reading in English!”

“There’s a news clip here,” Jake turned the screen back a little on it’s lazy susan so both sides of the table could watch while he steered his mouse to hit the “play” button.

A woman in a blue shirt and a blue cardigan stood in front of a house. In the sloped driveway behind her, an ambulance could be seen while paramedics transferred two body bags into the back of vehicle.

“The town of Blairstown, New Jersey has been rocked yet again by a mysterious teen suicide. This marks the ninth overdose of the sleep suppressant drug Diazepam this month in the US by a teen. In this house, a pair of teens were found holding hands and laying in bed together with the pill bottle on the nightstand next to them in what is being described as inspired by the famous Shakespear play Romeo and Juliet, which the two were reading in class. Allison and Mason, the names of the two students found in this house, were close according to reports, growing up across the street from each other. Reports say that the death of their friends earlier this week may have influenced them to take their own lives.”

Jake looked over at Dan and Phil. Phil was shaking his head. “It wasn’t a suicide, though. Someone killed them.”

Jake looked at Dan hesitantly.

Dan sighed. “I know how it sounds, Jake. One killer teleports around a camp in the middle of the night killing kids? Well, it can be explained by more than one killer. But a dream demon that kills kids while they sleep?” He thought for a moment. “Maybe we’re taking this too literally. Maybe this is some kind of metaphor. I mean really, how many times do your dreams really happen like they do in real life?”

“What do you mean?” Jake asked, running a hand through his hair as he leaned on it. Phil figured that was partly to blame for him looking so frumpy.

“What if we’re not looking for a dream demon, but someone who just kills people in their sleep? I mean maybe he’s drugging them first with Diazepam and then slicing and dicing them.”

“The media was saying that the deaths were overdoses, though,” Phil pointed out.

Dan shook his head. “Listen, I’m not saying it is right, but I’ve seen a lot of cops do what they think is right, including covering up a serial killer to chalk it up to accidental death or suicide. I’m not saying it’s good or it’s right, but that it might be what’s happening here.”

“Well how do we know for sure?” Phil asked.

Dan looked at Jake.

“You want me to call and ask?” Jake asked, dumbfounded.

Dan shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. “We can’t claim jurisdiction if there’s no homicide,” he pointed out.

“You want me to call the town of Blairstown, New Jersey, and ask if they’re covering up a serial killing?” Jake reiterated.

“Jake, what choice do we have?” Dan pushed.

Jake shook his head. “Dan, I’m sorry, but we don’t have enough to go on.”

Dan’s face hardened and he leaned back in his chair.

“Fine. Phil and I will go by ourselves then.”

“Dan-”

“No. We’re right about this, Jake.”

Jake made a fist and slammed it on the table. “Dammit, Dan, I didn’t say I didn’t believe, you, I said we don’t have enough to go on.”

“So let Phil and I go!”

“This is the FBI, Dan, not some rinky-dink police force. You cannot just go rogue. There are protocols in place for a reason. Are you really willing to throw away your entire career over this?”

“Jake, children were murdered!”

“You don’t know that, Dan.”

Dan’s face hardened again. “Yes I do. I believe Phil.”

“So do I, Dan,” Jake repeated. He sighed and put his head in his hands. “Look. You’re not an official FBI agent. If you and Phil want to take a drive on your own personal time up to New Jersey, I can’t stop you, and I won’t stop you, but I can’t help you, either. Not in any official capacity. And I cannot help you unless I am invited by whoever is in charge of this case down there, of their own volition, which means admitting to covering up a series of homicides.”

Dan stood up from his chair. “We’ll get you your phone call. Just be ready for it.”

Jake sighed. “I will be, Dan. I will be.”

*-*-*-*-*

“Thanks for standing up for me in there,” Phil mumbled as they waited for the elevator.

“Yeah, well, I want to catch this sick son of a bitch,” Dan mentioned.

Phil shrugged. “It’s just nice to know you have my back, is all.”

The elevator doors dinged and Dan rushed in followed by Phil.

“Of course I have your back, Phil. I saw what you saw. I know you’re not lying.”

“How, though?” Phil asked.

“How what?” Dan asked, confused.

“How do you know I’m not lying?” The doors opened and Dan strode out, making his way deliberately towards where he’d parked the car. “How do you know that I didn’t just make it up?”

Dan shook his head. “Because you wouldn’t,” he argued. “You just wouldn’t.”

Dan unlocked the car and slid in. Phil followed suit on the passenger side.

“You’ve seen all your life what death and grief do to people. And you’ve experienced it yourself. You wouldn’t just make that up for clout. I don’t know why we were in these dreams, or why you’re having them, or why we were together in both of them, but it means something, and I want to get to the bottom of it. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Dan pulled out of the parking lot.

“How did you know we were together in the first one I had?” Phil asked.

“I knew there was something you were keeping from me about the first dream. When you showed me this one I figured that had to be it.”

“Are we going to talk about it?” Phil asked.

Dan glanced over and saw the pained look on Phil’s face.

“I’m sorry, but not right now, Phil. Solving this murder comes first. Not us.”

“You can’t put it off forever,” Phil muttered, looking away.

Dan grabbed Phil’s hand so Phil could sense he wasn’t lying.

“I’m not, Phil. I’m not. Just… not right now, okay? Not right now.”

*-*-*-*-*

Neither of them were looking forward to being in the car for an entire day again, but New Jersey was closer to Quantico than Massachussettes or even Connecticut was, even if it was only by two or four hours, so they pushed on through the exhaustion and kept driving. At some point Dan had let Phil take over driving, the first time in all their travels, but they were running on only a few hours of sleep and a lot of emotional exhaustion as well. They hardly spoke throughout the drive, one often sleeping in the passenger seat while the other sucked down a Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts or Mcdonald’s coffee trying to keep their eyes from fluttering shut. 

The dotted white lines were hypnotic and the traffic was slow, neither of which helped any in keeping them awake. Phil blasted heavy metal in his earbuds while he drove, but at this point he’d become desensitized to it, and figured it was just a functional as a lullaby. He turned it up, however, past what was probably safe for his hearing, and kept on driving and driving, knowing that it couldn’t last forever. In fact, the GPS on Dan’s phone, propped up in it’s little holder on the dashboard informed him just how much longer they had. Phil watched the time count down minute by minute as he flicked his eyes back and forth from the road in front of them to the phone screen to the rear and side view mirrors then back to the road in front of him again. He made mental notes of the cars he saw frequently, who were traveling companions of theirs and yet they’d never met, off on their own adventures… ones happier and better than theirs, he hoped.

It was with relief that they finally crossed over the Delaware-New Jersey state line, joining up with their fellow cars on the New Jersey Turnpike. Dan was back in the driver’s seat and Phil had his earbuds in once more, leaning against the window as he gazed out of it. 

Neither said anything as they crossed the state line. There was still another 45 minutes to go, but it was better than an hour, or two, or three… 

Before either of them knew it, they were pulling off 95 and weaving their way through smaller highways, and then finally through country backroads, over scenic hills and rolling farm lands and idealistic quintessential New England towns, until finally they rolled past a sign for Blairestown, New Jersey, a town that up until today they’d never heard about. It was dark by now, and they’d have to find a place to stay, but for now they found a parking space outside a local hardware store and climbed out of the car to stretch their sore and aching bodies.

“So this is it,” Phil muttered, looking around at the town bathed by streetlamps.

“This is it,” Dan repeated in agreement.

“Not much to it, is there?”

“Never seems to be.”

Phil couldn’t argue with that.

Dan locked the car and they took a walk down the town’s main street’s sidewalk. 

“What do you think?” Dan asked after a few minutes.

“I think there’s more to the story,” Phil replied.

“I think so too. Should we head back and get some sleep and figure out the rest tomorrow?”

“I suppose. And we should probably get our story straight,” Phil mentioned.

“Or gay,” Dan couldn’t help but joke, trying to throw in a smile.

Phil smiled back. “You’re right. Queer it up in here.”

They made their way back to the car and Phil pulled up places to stay the night near the town.

They ended up driving about twenty minutes back out of town where they pulled into a chain motel and booked a room for the night. 

Dan took a hot shower, and when he exited the bathroom, Phil was already on his bed near the room’s windows, curled up, and facing away from Dan.

Dan grabbed his phone off the motel room desk and plopped on his own bed, opening his screen and looking through his social media, half expecting Phil to roll over and start a conversation with him- but he didn’t.

Dan could feel Phil’s mind racing, turning everything between them over and over again. It didn’t seem like that healthy of a distraction from the murders, but Dan supposed anything was better than thinking about dead children and the way their bodies had been slashed, leaving flaps and folds of flesh flopping, dripping with blood…

Dan shuddered. He needed a distraction too.

The air between them was tense, and Dan could feel a sort of emotional pain radiating off of Phil. He found that if he focused too much on that as well, he started to feel it too. Was Phil always feeling like this? Maybe that’s why he constantly had earbuds in, trying to drown out the feelings with anything… as far as Dan knew, Phil didn’t drink or smoke or take anything except some anxiety and depression medication. Maybe focusing on his own pain stopped him from feeling all the pain of those around him. Was that really any better, though?

Dan wanted to talk about things, to work them out, he really did, but he couldn’t let himself open that box right now. He needed to focus on the case. He couldn’t let himself feel… well, feel like Phil felt. Phil was good at compartmentalizing his pain, but it was like he reached down inside himself when he could and took it out, holding it, observing it, ruminating over it… it was almost an indulgence. Maybe that’s why he didn’t need any drugs. It was like he was addicted to his own pain. Dan would never say that, though, at least not out loud… there’d been a time between them, just a little, when Phil’d been able to put the pain of his brother’s death behind him, and where he’d been able to smile, to laugh… ever since Dan got back from Quantico, though, things had changed. Or maybe they’d changed before that, and he just hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t let himself notice.

Dan was a loner at heart. Relationships just made things more complicated. All types of relationships. Even his relationship with Jake was a potential burdon: sure, they knew each other well and were comfortable in each other’s presence, and that had it’s merits, it’s benefits, but if anything were to happen could Dan trust himself to make the right call? A call that needed to be made, for better or for worse? Maybe when he was out of the field, retired, or some old sod of a police chief in a sleepy New England town, he could relax a little… though, from where they were sitting now, it didn’t seem like that was the best case scenario either. He really didn’t want to believe that a department would cover up a serial killer, but he knew that a lot of police forces did a lot of things that weren’t right, even if they felt like they were… that’s why Dan couldn’t let emotions get in the way. That’s why he had to box it all up. He’d open that box soon, as soon as this case was solved, but he couldn’t, not now. 

Dan was pulled from his thoughts by Phil rolling over in his bed to face Dan, but still Phil didn’t say anything. Dan left him to his own musings. 

Finally Dan shut his phone off and placed it on the bedside table. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow, and he needed to get a good night’s sleep in order to be the best cop he could. To be the cop that those kids needed. If not in life, then at least in death.

*-*-*-*-*

When Dan woke up Phil wasn’t in the room. He was surprised; Phil was almost never up before him.

Dan grabbed a change of clothes for the day from his bag and carried them into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. While he was in there he heard Phil come back into the room.

Dan opened the bathroom door and took a few trepid steps out to see what Phil was up to.

Phil had a plate with a blueberry bagel piled with cream cheese on it that was already partially eaten.

“None for me?” Dan joked, testing the waters.

Phil glanced up but didn’t say anything.

The waters were icy cold.

Dan wanted to complain about how these days he never could predict what mood Phil would be in, though he remembered what he was like when they were on the road hunting down Martyn’s killers, and he figured he didn’t really have room to criticize. It’d be nice if they could go back to having a relationship outside of all the murder and mayhem they seemed to run into together. Or maybe this was just how it was meant to be between them.

Dan left the room without saying anything else to go get himself something to eat. There were a few muffins left to choose from, along with a few other options, so he grabbed one and placed it on a plate. He scoped out the containers of pre-packaged single-serve cereal containers and grabbed an Apple Jacks, peeling the wrapper off and filling it with milk from the container in the mini fridge. Dan snagged a plastic spoon from the utensil area and brought everything back to their room.

Phil was in the motel room’s shower. Dan could hear the water running from where he sat at the desk eating his Apple Jacks as he scrolled on his phone. He’d been trying to rack his brain for an idea for a reason why they should be allowed to see the bodies, why they were there at all, anything… but his mind was drawing a blank. Seemed like they always had the perfect story in shows like Supernatural. Show up saying you’re the FBI. “Well no one called the FBI” but there they were. Only Dan really was FBI. And if they did call, it would be an issue. Dan huffed. Everything was better in Hollywood.

Dan heard the water in the bathroom stop just as he was fishing for the last pieces of his cereal in the tiny plastic bowl.

He was just sipping up the last of his milk when Phil emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair hanging down above his bright blue eyes.

Dan spit up on the milk in his mouth and looked away.

“Oh, god, Dan, I’m- I forgot a shirt, and I knew you were down getting breakfast. I guess I thought I had more time.”

Phil’s eyes shifted between Dan and Phil’s open overnight bag on his bed- all the way on the other side of the room as the temperature in Dan’s face continued to rise. 

“Do you need me to…” Dan gestured at the bag on Phil’s bed, keeping his eyes pointed directly towards the floor so he could only make out the vague shape of Phil and any movements in his peripheral.

“Uh, yeah, sure, maybe that would be best. Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s fine,” Dan waved a hand, trying to brush away Phil’s concern. 

He set down his little plastic cup of cereal and pushed his chair out from the desk to stand up and walk over to Phil’s bed.

Dan grabbed a shirt from the bag, balled it up, and tossed it. It started to fall flat, so on instinct, Phil leaned over Dan’s bed to try and catch it, the towel haphazardly slipping from around his waist. Phil ended up being pulled in two directions as he tried to grab both the shirt and keep the towel around himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Dan muttered, turning to look out the window. “Fix yourself and then get back in the fucking bathroom.

He heard Phil sigh quietly and shuffle back into the bathroom.

*-*-*-*-*

“What if we said we had heard a local rumor about a string of murders-”

“No, because we don’t want them to know that we know it’s murder,” Dan reminded him.

Phil let out a dramatic sigh and flopped backwards on the bed.

Phil had been sitting on Dan’s bed with his long legs draped over the edge while Dan sat backwards in the desk chair, arms crossed over the back of the chair. They’d been talking around in circles for almost half an hour at this point, trying to come up with a reasonable cover story, but it seemed like no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t come up with anything.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Phil suggested, sitting back up.

Dan nodded.

“Where did we hear about the murders?”

“The suicides,” Dan reminded him.

“Where did we hear about the suicides?” Phil corrected.

“On the news.”

“And why did we watch the news?”

Dan paused.

“Because Big Brother is always watching,” Phil continued on.

“We can’t use that,” Dan patronized.

“Why not? It’s true isn’t it?”

“No,” Dan argued.

“Did we not scope out the news to find this story?”

“Yes.”

“Are we not the FBI?”

“We are…”

“Then we scoped out the news because we were looking for strange deaths that we think may be connected to an active case the FBI is working.”

“Right.”

“The team working on this mysterious homicide down in Texas flagged the news report as suspicious.”

“Okaaaay-”

“And now we’re here to check it out as representatives of that team.”

“Fine.”

Phil smirked. “Next. What do we need to claim jurisdiction?”

“Jake said that we needed to be invited.”

“But not if it’s suspected to be related to another homicide in a different state, right? That would give us jurisdiction.”

“Yes, but we need evidence to link it to that homicide. Your prophetic dreams are not evidence.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When do we need evidence by?”

Dan shook his head. “Are you seriously suggesting we look for evidence to fit the crime?”

Phil shrugged.

“No. That doesn’t make us any better than them.”

Phil rolled his eyes, exacerbated. “What choice do we have? Of course we’re better than them! We’re actually trying to find out who did this to them!”

“So you want me to tell the FBI we have evidence that links these two cases and then find that evidence later?”

“Yes.”

Dan sat for a moment chewing his lips.

“Fine. Then we still need them to declare murder. Or we need someone from the FBI to come down on reasonable evidence to take a look at the case to declare murder.”

“We don’t have the evidence yet to bring down someone from the FBI yet, though.”

“Meaning they have to admit murder first so that we have a justifiable reason to claim why we looked for evidence in something that was declared a suicide.”

“Maybe we can just see how it goes while we’re there,” Phil suggested.

“You want to hinge this whole plan on hoping we can convince the officer in charge to change the rulings to murder?”

“It’s what we got. It hasn’t failed us so far.”

Dan rolled his eyes. 

“Actually it nearly got us killed last time.”

“Good thing I can deflect bullets with my mind,” Phil smiled toothily.

“Jesus Christ.”

*-*-*-*-*

Dan pulled into a parking space on the side of the road across the street from the police station.

“You better hope this works,” he muttered towards Phil as he ejected himself from the driver’s seat.

The police department was small, smaller even than the one Dan had worked at. 

The front desk was devoid of a receptionist, leaving only a bell on the desk. Phil reached over and pressed the button down gently, giving it a little ring.

The chief of police himself wandered in from the room behind the desk.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Detective Howell and this is my associate, Mr. Lester. We’re with the FBI,vrepresenting a team looking into suspicious deaths across the country, and some of our detectives flagged the recent string of suicides as suspicious, and sent us down here to take a look.”

“What kind of suspicious deaths?” The police chief asked.

“We’re looking at a murder case-”

“Well these were suicides.”

“Right,” Dan agreed, tersely. “But see we have reason to believe-”

The police chief started to turn around.

“Wait!” Phil called.

The man turned back around to face him.

Phil held his hands out by his sides, fingers splayed apart ever so slightly. He looked at the man directly in the eyes, and gathered his strength inside him, and then… pushed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have the coroner look at the bodies again?” Phil asked.

The man huffed and snorted in laughter, but he didn’t move.

Phil reached down within himself, pulling reserves he didn’t even know he had, reaching, reaching as if into his very life force itself, pushing himself harder than he ever had.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have the coroner look at the bodies again?” Phil repeated.

The police chief looked at Phil and Phil felt himself within the man’s mind. Phil pushed his will onto the man as hard as he could.

The police chief stared at Phil and Phil stared back. 

Dan looked around, half expecting the lights to flicker or Phil’s nose to start bleeding.

But slowly, the police chief said

“Maybe I will, yeah.”

And he turned around and started going back the way he came.

Phil let go of all the energy he’d been holding and stumbled, caught by Dan.

“See, I told you. You’re like fucking Eleven.”

Phil smiled tiredly.

*-*-*-*-*

Phil was too weak to follow the p0lice chief into the back of the building and down the stairs to the mortuary, so Dan went alone.

When they got there, the coroner was sitting at his desk reading a stack of papers.

“Dr. Cadwell, this man’s from the FBI. He says that these deaths might be related to some murders they’re looking into.”

The coroner glanced from the police chief to Dan slowly.

“Well, you told me to classify these as suicides,” the corner reminded him, speaking slowly and deliberately. Dan got the impression the coroner was against the idea.

“Well, why don’t you take another look,” the police chief suggested, nodding.

The corner looked past the police chief directly at Dan.

“Do you need me to sign these off as murders so you can take the case.”

“Well…” Dan scratched the top of his head.

The coroner dropped the paper he was reading.

“Done. Just give me the paperwork to sign.”

*-*-*-*-*

“Good news, we got the officer to change the ruling to murder, and enough evidence to warrant sending down an official FBI team to look into the possible connection with the homicides at Camp Crystal Lake in Texas.”

Dan was on the phone outside the police department.

“That’s great! What’s the evidence?”

Dan didn’t speak

“What’s the evidence?” Jake repeated cheerily.

He was met with more silence.

“Seriously? What am I supposed to tell them?”

“Jake, we’ll find something, I promise-” 

“It’s not eno-”

“Jake please.”

This time it was Dan that was met with silence.

“Fine. But you better deliver.”

*-*-*-*-*

Dan walked back into the police station and sat next to Phil in one of the chairs in the waiting area.

“I’ll find something, I promise,” Phil mumbled, clearly exhausted.

“I know you will, just be careful, okay?”

Phil nodded tiredly.

Dan stood up again and held out a hand to Phil, who took it. Dan pulled him up and Phil wabbled on his feet before steading himself.

“Do you need to sit for a little while longer?” Dan asked.

“No,” Phil replied, against his better judgment. “Maybe there’s a stool downstairs,” he smiled woozily.

Dan guided Phil down the stairs with one of his arms around Dan’s broad shoulders. It worked out well that Phil was just a tad bit taller than Dan: he was able to lean into Dan as they made their way down the staircase bathed in a horrid sickly green artificial light. The light hummed and flickered at they made their way down. Dan glanced at Phil.

“Cool as it would be, that’s not me,” he smiled half-heartedly.

Dan nodded back, and they continued down the stairs.

He left Phil leaning up against the stairway wall as he pushed and held open the door.

The coroner was still sitting at his desk reading his paperwork.

“I suppose you want a look at these bodies, then?” he called in a monotone voice, eyes still scanning the typed text.

“That’d be great, thanks. And some gloves.”

At that, the coroner looked up.

“Hands-on kind of agents, yeah? Don’t get a lot of those. Not that we get a lot of agents ‘round here to begin with.”

He placed the papers down on his desk and pushed his chair back to stand up.

“Must make the job boring,” Phil suggested.

“Makes the job easier,” the coroner corrected.

He didn’t bother to introduce himself as he handed both of them a pair of gloves.

“What can you tell us about the bodies?” Dan asked.

“Well,” the coroner eyed each of them, “they’re a real mess.”

The coroner opened a row of four body storage chamber along the wall, pulling out each exam table and revealing the four dead kids. Three boys and one girl.

Each body was covered in long slashes that looked like they’d been made by some sort of machinery.

“Do you have any idea what could have made these marks?” Dan asked.

The corner beckoned them over to the first body- the body of Chris. The teen had slashes all across his chest and neck, as well as his arms. Dr. Cadwell gestured to the mosaic of marks across the boy’s chest.

“If you look, a lot of the marks seem to have been made in groupings- I’m not sure if you can tell, but it looks like four or five slashes at once here. Not only that, but the slashes look like they were made by something that was able to bend- so, not like the tongs of a pitch-fork, for example, but something that had a hinge joint. The weapon was small enough to be easily wielded, as you can tell by the different directions the marks made. I know this sounds almost Hollywoodish, but it almost looks like how the average person would expect a body mauled by a bear to look like.”

Dan and Phil exchanged glances.

Dr. Cadwell turned his attention towards Dan. 

“You said you thought these deaths might be related to another case you guys were looking into. Are these marks the same as the ones that were made on the other victims?”

Phil looked at Dan too, wondering how he’d answer.

“No,” Dan answered truthfully. “We have other evidence that links these cases. We don’t believe the same weapon was used.”

“And I’m assuming that link is classified?” Dr. Cadwell asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Do you have information about what kind of weapon you think might have done this?” Dr. Cadwell asked.

Phil looked to Dan again, following his lead.

“We do, actually,” Dan said.

“And are you at liberty to share that?” Dr. Cadwell asked.

“What makes you think these are homicides?” Dan countered first.

“Well, they didn’t take place at the same time, so it wasn’t a freak accident. I understand that drugs were found in the system of the last two victims there, and there’s a very good and real possibility they took them together, but to have such precise wounds that were made over and over again be self-inflicted is just highly unlikely. I’m not saying it was a homicide, but it certainly wasn’t suicide, in my opinion.”

Dan chewed on his lip as he nodded, mulling over the words that Dr. Cadwell was saying.

“We think the weapon was a home-made tool,” Dan offered.

“Okay…” Dr. Cadwell trailed off. When it didn’t seem like Dan was going to offer up more information voluntarily, he followed up with “And do you have a guess as to what exactly that tool is?”

“Well…” this time it was Dan that trailed off, feeling like he would sound ridiculous. He remembered what Dr. Cadwell had said though, about how the marks on the bodies looked like a Hollywood bear attack, and figured maybe the coroner wouldn’t think they were so crazy after all. Plus, they were the FBI, he reminded himself. Their reputation preceded them- or at least, he hoped it did. 

“Basically, we think the killer-”

“‘Killer’, singular?” Dr. Cadwell checked.

“Yes, ‘killer’, singular,” Dan confirmed. “We think the killer, singular made a sort of… glove… with long blades on the end, almost like claws.”

“So a glove that the killer wore with home-made claws on the end?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Dr. Cadwell stood in silence, gazing down at the bodies again with this new information.

“I suppose that makes sense. And are you sure that’s what it was?”

Dan shot a quick glance over at Phil. 

“We’re pretty sure. We’re staking our case on it as of right now.”

Dr. Cadwell nodded. “Gotchya. Well, yeah, I mean, that lines up. That would make sense why sometimes there are four slices and sometimes there are five. The thumb would make the anomaly. I still have a lot of questions, though, if that is the case.”

“Like what?” Phil asked.

Dr. Cadwell glanced at him almost startled, as if he hadn’t expected Phil to be speaking at all.

“Well, for example, if what you say is true, and an unnamed killer broke into the house of our last two victims here, for example, then why were they found lying otherwise untouched in the bed? I understand they were drugged, and that they have defensive wounds, but did they just get slashed to pieces, and the killer left, so they decided to just continue to lay down and hold hands while dying? I mean, from the crime scene photos, it doesn’t look like there was any attempt made by either of them to stop their bleeding, get help, anything. And not only that, but there was at least one parent in the home as far as I’m aware during the time of this supposed murder. How was this committed with no one seeing or hearing anything?”

“There are examples of cases where other people in the homes were unaware of a murder being taken place in another part of the house,” Dan offered up.

“Right, and how many of these people end up in prison afterwards on murder charges?”

Dan didn’t respond.

“We have some theories as to how it could have went down,” Phil offered up.

The coroner looked at him skeptically.

“What are you, some kind of X-Files division?”

Dan chuckled. “I’m sure we’ve been called that before.”

“Actually,” Phil explained, “we think the killer has some sort of supernatural powers that allows him to attack people in their sleep, and that’s why the kids drugged themselves with Diazepam: to go after him.”

The corner scoffed a little and raised his eyebrows slightly.

“Didn’t know feds had a sense of humor.”

“Do we look like your regular feds?” Phil asked with a small smirk.

“You’re right, you’re right,” the coroner threw his hands up in defeat.

“Well, you seem to know what you’re looking for, so how about you take a look, and I’ll assist in any way I can.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

He moved out of the way to allow Dan and Phil access to Chris’s body.

“Did you know any of these kids?” Phil asked while Dan peered up and down Chris’s body with his hands tucked carefully behind his back.

“Not personally. Recognize them from around town. Maybe knew names and parents. Probably didn’t speak to them more than a ‘hello’ or an ‘excuse me’.”

Dan gave Phil a look like he was asking him if Phil was going to take a look at the bodies or not. Phil moved to trade places with Dan. He didn’t really know what exactly he was looking for, so he figured he would start from the head down. As much as he’d met dead people, he’d never actually touched a dead body, or been in such close proximity to one.

Phil pushed past all his natural instincts in order to start ruffling through Chris’s hair while Dan asked more questions about the town and the area and the victims. Phil had forgotten they didn’t actually know the last two victim’s names.

“Yeah, Tony and Maria. Grew up across the street from each other as soon as her family moved from Puerto Rico, or so I’m told. We have a population of Puerto Rican folks that live around here. Everything else is pretty white though. And she was the only victim of color, so I doubt it was a racial crime. You don’t have any motive, do you? Sick fucks like this don’t usually have a motive outside of wanting to kill kids. Were your other victims all kids too?”

“Yeah, they were,” Dan asked.

“And what case did you say you were linking it to?”

“I didn’t,” Dan smiled coyly.

Phil moved down to Chris’s face. He peeled the eyelids back and looked into the soulless eyes, and then opened the mouth. He felt awful about it, and really hoped he wouldn’t have to speak to any of these kids later on after pawing at their corpses, but he knew it was the smart thing to do. At least none of them were here, now.

Phil moved down towards Chris’s chest, trying his best to remove the emotions that came flooding when he looked at the ragged and torn skin. The blood had all been drained and washed off the body, since in declaring it a suicide there was no need to preserve evidence. Phil brushed his fingered gloves lightly over the deep grooves.

“Tragic, isn’t it? And they wanted me to call it a suicide.”

Phil looked up at him.

“So why did you?”

Dr. Cadwell shrugged. “They pay my salary. I gave them my educated opinion, but at the end of the day it’s the cops who decide whether to investigate further. Not little ole me.”

Phil didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his attention back down the the pale, lifeless body in front of him. Phil shuffled a few steps over and brought himself to the cadaver’s waist.

Doubting he would find anything of use in the groin region, Phil delicately skipped over the area and moved towards the body’s legs. Still, there was nothing of significance. Not even once Phil reached the soles of the feet with a white tag wrapped daintily around the child’s big toe did Phil find anything.

“Can you roll him over for me?” Phil asked, glancing at the doctor in one last bid.

“I suppose.”

Phil moved out of the way as the doctor ungracefully pulled the body over and rolled it to the other side on the thin metal slab.

Phil went through the hair on the scalp again, this time on the back of the head. Still nothing.

Phil ran his fingers down the back of the boys neck. There was a mark. He could have sworn it wasn’t there before.

Phil hesitated.

“Can I see your notes?” Phil asked, trying his best to sound casual.

“Why? Did you find something?”

Phil cursed in his mind.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

Phil reluctantly moved his fingers away as the doctor moved to look down at the body.

“What the hell? That wasn’t there before. I’m sure of it.”

While the doctor was busy squinting down at Chris’s neck Phil shot Dan a concerned look.

When the doctor stepped away Dan moved in to look down at it.

On the back of the boys neck were two small letters: I and X. Together, they made the roman numeral nine.

The doctor looked between them.

“That wasn’t there before. I’m sure of it,” he repeated, firmer this time.

Dan’s eyes scanned the body as rapidly as he sorted through his thoughts.

“I’d like my associate to check the other bodies, if you would.”

The doctor furrowed his brown at Dan while Phil went to the next body, the body of PJ. Trying to quell his stomach, he gently moved PJ’s head to the side so the back of his neck was exposed. There was nothing.

Hands shaking, Phil reached out again, gently brushing the back of the body’s neck. When he pulled his hand away, there again was the same mark.

Quickly Phil moved to the bodies of Maria and Tony under the pretense of checking them and revealed the mark on each of them.

“This has to be a joke. You’re planting some kind of evidence.” The doctor accused.

“Are you suggesting we somehow gave the bodies cuts?” Dan asked. He glanced down at the cadavers. “They don’t look fresh.”

The doctor glanced down at the marks on each of the bodies again.

“If you had t0 guess, when do you think those marks were made?”

The doctor pursed his lips. “Shortly after death,” he replied.

“So then how could we have just put them there?” Dan argued.

The doctor didn’t answer.

“This is the link we were looking for,” he said to Phil in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I agree,” Phil nodded, trying his best not to look as turmoiled as he felt. He was just a professional doing his job. Nothing more and nothing less.

“If you’ll excuse us, we have a phone call to make.”

Dan turned before the doctor could protest more.

Together, he and Phil climbed the stairs and walked out of the police station.

“Did you put those there?” Dan asked Phil, looking him directly in the eye once they were out of earshot.

“I don’t know.” Phil’s voice quivered.

Dan started pacing back and forth.

“Dan, I’m scared,” Phil admitted.

Dan looked at him.

“Why?”

“Dan, what if I’m the one doing this?” Phil suggested again.

Dan stomped over to Phil and clapped a hand on Phil’s shoulder.

“You’re not doing this, Phil. We saw someone do this. It wasn’t you.”

A tear slipped out of Phil’s eye and he hurriedly wiped it away.

“Look, just, wait in the car, okay? Wait in the car.”

More tears started to slip out of Phil’s diamond-blue eyes. He’s scared of me, he thought to himself.

“I’m NOT scared of you,” Dan snapped. “Just wait in the car while I figure this out!”

Phil dropped his head and stomped over to the passenger side of Dan’s car. He glanced at the tab on the inside of the car door and yanked it up, grabbing at the car handle and pulling. He threw himself inside and slammed the door shut without touching a thing.

It was there that he finally let himself drop his head into his sleeves and let out a quick muffled crying.

After a few second of loud and heavy breathing Phil lifted his head from his sleeved hands, pulled himself together, and stared out the windshield at Dan pacing on the phone.

Phil’s eyes shifted to the passenger door and he grabbed the window handle, slowly turning the knob, watching out the windshield to make sure Dan didn’t notice.

“Yeah, we found a link. No, I can’t tell you what it is. No, I don’t know what it means. Look, Phil’s freaking out, he thinks that he did this…” Dan trailed off. “He didn’t,” he practically growled into the phone, visibly upset. Phil watched him as he continued to pace up and down the sidewalk, tears slowly continuing to fall from his face.

“Tough luck, huh?”

Phil jumped, glancing up from the windshield to the rearview mirror. In the glass’s reflection, he could see two teens sitting in the back of the car. A girl with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a boy with slicked back hair. He recognized them immediately.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

The girl turned her head to look out the window while the boy looked past Phil out the windshield.

“Tough luck, huh?” he asked, repeating what the girl had said. “Guess it’s going around.”

The girl turned her attention back to Phil.

“They think we killed ourselves,” Maria said, getting straight to the point.

Phil shook his head. “No, no they don’t. I changed his mind. I told him you didn’t.”

“Is that what happened?” Tony asked.

Phil nodded but try as he might, he couldn’t say anything.

“‘The Romeo and Juliet Suicides’. Poetic, isn’t it?” Maria smirked.

“They’ll never know what happened.” Tony sounded far away as he continued to stare out the window.

“No, I’ll tell them what happened,” Phil argued.

“You don’t even know what’s happening up there,” Maria countered, throwing a nod at Phil.

“I didn’t do this,” he said.

She looked at him up and down.

“How should we know? The man had a mask.”

Phil blinked in surprise.

“A mask?”

“Yeah, a mask. Some creepy burn-faced mask. And a mark.” Maria turned her head to look out the window again.

“A mark?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of a mark?”

“Some letters,” she said, watching as someone passed by Dan on the phone walking down the sidewalk.

“What letters?”

“An I and an X,” Tony chimed in. “It was a nine. The roman numeral nine.”

[davidisen]

NOLA 2023, Part 2

My New Orleans visit, December 12-19, 2023, continued . . .

On Sunday, December 17, Aurora Nealand (soprano sax, clarinet, vocals) led an especially poignant gig at the Spotted Cat, with Steve Lands (trumpet), Leo Forde (guitar), Pete Olyciw (bass), each a highly-skilled, big-eared, adventurous soul. They played the standards, but in a very exploratory way. When Aurora sang, "In My Solitude," by Duke Ellington, she articulated each lyric with precious presence.

Aurora appeared in David Simon's great, and under-appreciated, TV series Treme. Her best line of the whole series said, in part, " . . . but music, that's personal." She was talking about gigs like this one.

Here's another view of the same gig by Bill Bush, a new friend I met on this trip with similar musical tastes. Bill had some other gigs on his list that evening, but, like me, he sensed how special the gig was, and for three sets, he couldn't tear himself away. It's Bill's original pic, but it's my fault for messing with it . . . From L to R it's Leo Forde, Steve Lands, Steve Olyciw, and Aurora Nealand.

Jason Marsalis did one of the afternoon sessions at the New Orleans Jazz National Historical Park 2PM series. He explained the vibraphone - and its cousins the glockenspiel, the marimba and the xylophone. And he talked about growing up in the house of Ellis Marsalis with brothers Wynton, Branford, etc. And played a few tunes too!

Sharon Martin and her quartet did another one of those great 2PM National Park gigs.

That woman could sing.

I caught a set at Maison Dupuy by Robin Rapuzzi's Glo-worms, two mandolins and a guitar, focused on traditional Italian music. If the two guys on the right look familiar, it's probably because they're in Tuba Skinny. Robin's in the middle and Greg Sherman is on the right. Nobody was there. It was Sunday, something about Saints at the Superdome.

There's been a drum circle on Sunday afternoons in Congo Square since . . . well . . . there's a legend that before the Civil War, the enslaved people of New Orleans were allowed to play their drums on Sunday in Congo Square. One line of thinking says this is why New Orleans music is so unique. As I walked past Congo Square on Sunday afternoon, I heard drums . . .

One of my friends, now a very successful musician, once was busted for busking in a New York subway. He wasn't even playing. He had opened his violin case to look for something, and the cop saw him and out came the ticket book! Why??????

Busking is encouraged in New Orleans. One afternoon I stopped to listen to Charlie Bridges . . .

I met this young lady but didn't remember her name. She was a good singer and a songwriter too.

Doreen Ketchens is one of the best clarinet players in New Orleans! She gives 110%! I've seen her on Royal Street many times.

My allocated week in New Orleans was winding down. On Monday, I caught The Winding Boys at the Spotted Cat, and then Doyle Cooper and Z2 at Buffa's.

Here's The Winding Boys. That's Myla Burnett on guitar, Dizzy on washboard, and Dizzy on bass. One of those all-purpose names. I never caught the names of the two front guys. They were both good. The sax guy was musically clever. The trumpet player was verbally clever, with, a humph, clever, a humph, improvised lyrics. Note the great trumpet player James Williams, in the window.

I went to hear Doyle Cooper at Bill Bush's suggestion. He was very good. So was piano player Z2.

I had some fries and cheese sauce, smothered in Crystal hot sauce, and went home early to pack for my flight to NYC. A remarkable week.

[sungbeam]

hello i am throwing rocks at your window (a la ain't no romeo hj (i have not yet finished reading said title)) and also scaling the walls and eating cobwebs bc by reading rescue protocol i reverted back to the Kevin Moon Brainrot™️ of '21,,, this is by no means your fault (it is, how dare you make me fall in love with kevin for the second time) but honestly that fic changed my Brain Chemistry, like i cannot wait to open my laptop so i can finally rb it with tags 🤩🤩🤩

anw while i'm here i NEED you to know that i am ITCHING to finish reading anr but i can't just yet bc as i said it's midterms szn for me so i'm basically making your series a reward HSJSDG

thank you for thinking about us moonlights (he is SO friends to lovers coded) and for making my heart clench at least 5 times in the span of 29k words

idk if i will be able to survive the chanhee and juhak ones but i am looking forward to more of your works (passes out)

omg pls i like how u say u haven't finished anr yet but u know abt the rock throwing HAHAHA but hello hello skfbskjf thank u sm for this ask chip, i literally saw it during my lecture just now and nearly forgot to actually, uhm,, pay attention LMAOO PLS DONT EAT COBWEBS those things r nasty, but kevin moon brainrot is not nasty 😋😋 i am so happy i could reignite that flame within u >:))

KSJDKSKDKD PLS I DIDNT REALIZE HOW MANY PEOPLE R ALREADY IN EXAM SZN 😭 i forget that my school is just late </3 but good luck and good skills on exams 😼✊🏼 u got this!! liu is not going anywhere haha

kevin moon is deffo f2l coded like how could u not wanna be friends w that man??? and then slowly fall in love w each other until there's nothing else to do but exchange vows— but im glad to have contributed to the sad and barren state of kevin moon tumblr 😭💔 one day, i will contribute even more. there r so many things i have for him wasting away in drafts... maybe /i/ need to start eating cobwebs o_o

bro chanhee's and juhak's........ im sure you'll be fine 😁😁😁 uhm haha *scratches head* ANYWAYS looking forward to what u think abt the remainder of anr as well !! i remember seeing ur rb of ,,, party people??? but yes, it was so nice talking to u chip, good luck on exams!! 💖💖💖

[pluralwives]

The Failures of Plural Representation

Tw: mental health, abuse, torture, plural vilification, neurotypical shit.

My dad... (I don't want to say 'made me') invited me to watch The Lord of the Rings from a very young age. You know, like any good gen X parent would. And of course I fell in love with it! I was raised a nerd after all.

My favorite scene ofc has to be the part when Eowyn goes all Mulan and bitch slaps the Witch King to death saying "I am no man. I'm a woman!".

For a long time these movies became the gold standard for what good story telling looked liked. It sparked my passion for storytelling, cinema and writing.

Recently I've been rewatching the trilogy, the extended versions on HBO. And I hadn't watched them in so long, they felt like new and yet... they felt like home.

There aren't many things that have made me feel like home ever since I left my body...

But tonight I finished watching the two towers.

Began with a vat full of mousse cake and my wife by my side!

Finished sad... with a bad taste in my mouth that won't leave.

(No, it wasn't the mousse. My Alesha could never make anything that wasn't perfect)

And it's funny. Bc I remember that on the original cut that my dad and I rented from a Block Buster, the story of Smeagol seemed so sad to me.

But what I just saw was far from sad, it was cruel!

And not like some dramatic tragedy or anything like that!

It was a joke!

Smeagol was a joke!

His pain was just some passing slapstick! Sauron tortures him! The humans too! Sam harrasses him! And Frodo betrays him!

"You have shown your quality, sir. The very highest."

"You left out one of the chief characters: Sawise the Brave."

"There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for."

Oh! Why don't you go fuck a po-tay-toe, Sam! You bastard half-ling!

Faramir gets the girl!

Sam gets revindicated for misstrusting Smeagol!

And Frodo goes to the eternal shores or some shit!

And Gollum?

To the flames where he fucking belongs, the freak!

"But he was too far gone! The ring had taken control over him! He couldn't be trusted!"

👆

(Windows 10 seeks to censor me)

Yes, obviously. He is a flawed character. Just like almost everyone in the movies.

But you just don't see Boromir getting the same treatment. No, he gets the bitter-sweet flashback with his brother.

And Smeagol proves to get better and get rid of his toxic counterpart and be happy again! (100 times the strength any soldier has ever had in my experience) But still... No.

He's still just a freak.

The creature Gollum.

But alright. So J. R. R. Tolkien sucks at mental health representation. I don't think that's such a hot take if I know the internet.

But here's the catch:

It is worth remembering.

Cuz history has a funny way of tripping you over and kicking you in the gut for the bad memory of others.

(Split 2016)

A bad movie? Yes! But a popular movie? Also yes!

And that's why I'm currently mad enough to write a Tumblr blog at 4 in the morning. Bc popular media seems to mostly just show pural folks as monsters and not people you can empathize with!

And that's fucking scary bc, guess what?

We don't want to be treated like fucking monsters!

Big surprise there!

...

It's just... I sometimes forget how scary it can be.

To think that you can't be who you are in public because people will look at you... and see nothing less than a creature.

I didn't choose to be this way, and yet I'm trying to love myself for what I am...

And then you look at me and... What? Do I matter so little? Do you see me as lesser? ... Am I not even a person? ... Is it even a crime to harm me?

Fuck...

...

It's not all bad news though.

Maybe as part of the recent trend towards mental health acceptance, or maybe just bc of some rando guardian angel writer. or just for the f'ing lols, we're starting to see for the first time the representation of characters with multiple personalities that is not only accurate and sensible, but also effective and heartfelt from a storytelling pov.

I didn't finish Moon Knight, but for what I saw it gives me great hope that this will become the standard for talking abt multiple personalities on popular media from now on... bc that would honestly get rid of so much my daily stress.

...

I just want a family at the end of the day.

I want a stable job, I want my own small business, I want a house for my wife, and I want a child that feels free to become whatever the want to, and need to be. And I want heroes they can look up to.

Bc I'm running out of mine...

I'm really sad I have to leave this part of my childhood behind.

I could start trying to split hairs and defend the movie as something far away from Tolkien's nastyness... but something tells me that it's just not gonna be the same ever again.

I'm not gonna stop my rewatch or ban TLOTR from my home. They're still cool movies. It's just that the same enjoyment is no longer there. And I just don't feel like indoctrinating my family to these movies just like I was, even if some of their lessons are important.

For that I have Moon Girl and Devi Dinosaur!

–Tal

[vodid]

Hey, dream pal again….

I am okey, sorry if the “worst week of my life” coment freaked you out, im cool.

I did walk through a forest, but funny enough I had walked in it many times irl and was around said forest when the dream happened, so I just assumed this is why I dreamed about it. I was with Jazz there and here is were I lost the short guy and found “you”... I wasnt sure about the oak trees since I am not a fauna guy but after looking up how they look, huh, guess what? there were in the dream too.

One of the things that really haunted me about the dream is that I know and I have been in all the places of said dream while awake… Even the store you drew has a strong resemblance to a store I know, but again… no mural which I find so intriguing.

I do remember talking to the girl I found while Jazz was still in the store. I don’t remember much of the conversation besides comments on Jazz, the death environment and someone saying that it was going to be okey (I trully don’t know who said that). I remember getting angry, but not the reason why I got angry.

The dream doesn’t end in the store for me. After the store we hit the road, and I sat on Jazz’s passenger seat as I looked out of the window, I wasn’t alone in the car, and I know more than one person was on the car, but I dont know if it was the same girl from the store. I know they *looked* white (it could be the cappibara lady, who knows), but we where quiet all the way.

In the dream I knew there had been an apocalypse and I knew Jazz was the only Autobot I could find, but I was also aware (to a small degree) that is was a dream. Who knows maybe this is why I got angry when we left the store.

This is so freaky… The dream doesn’t end on the road either, at least not for me (who knows, maybe the car passenger NPCs logged into a different server)… But after that I was alone.

I have to ask, in the forest did you happen to see other animals (a mule/ donkey)? or a small cabin?

Dude Imagine I end up finding the other people in the dream… that would be, creepy ngl.

The dream pal,

- R

i'm happy to hear that! <3

oak trees are pretty common but they felt very prevalent enough in the forest i walked through that it was worth noting. usually, where i live, they're a bit more sparse and mixed with tons of other trees.

and before i continue, this got EXTREMELY long and detailed so i'm placing everything under a cut hsdfsdfs

the forest in my dream was one i walked through many times irl too!! it was heavily based off the forest right behind my house at first, which has a small creek in it (that's where i started off in my dream actually. went into my backyard, saw a capybara and followed her into the forest) but the path and size were different, both much larger. the path went straight instead of turning left, there were more slopes around it, a thicker canopy, and the creek i passed through was further in and running perpendicular instead of parallel (it was more reminiscent of a wider part of my creek downstream, but the location was all wrong) there was also a small hill just before or right after the creek. around that point, it melded with a different forest i've walked through only a few times before: the forest behind my high school, which had a mf maze for its trails that we hiked on a few times and a very large river in the deepest part, to the left. the desire path i walked on in the dream was a lot more like those ones. perhaps, if you were the girl, you walked on a different trail until we bumped into each other? (tho i don't particularly remember there being any forks in the path)

the supermarket was a lot like a regular ol walmart but it doesn't particularly remind me of any i know. most walmarts here are part of a strip mall/near one and i don't remember if there were rly many other buildings in the plaza from my dream. probably all got destroyed. not sure, the details of the plaza are fuzzy besides a very, very dusty and crumbled parking lot. very large lot, but i'm not sure how large, and how much had dirt and grass had grown over it

the mural i'm sure is something straight out of horizon forbidden west. there are holograms in the game of the heroes of the apocalypse? called "ten." the holograms had a couple graphics that the mural was most likely based off of, mainly the orange and yellow background (stole this pic from ign)

after seeing the mural, jazz didn't move or speak in the rest of the full dream. he just sat on the rubble next to the mural. i would've loved to have hit the road lol but i guess he needed time. i really wish i remembered more about what happened towards the end, but i do know that, alongside the worry and the sympathy, there were feelings of dread and a slight urgency. we weren't in active danger, but we could be. that place was abandoned for a reason. (it felt as though jazz was the one in danger, but he found the girl to be in more danger than he was. classic guardian syndrome i guess LOL)

that's so wack tho. we both in some way knew we were dreaming (usually i am not aware of that in mine) and everything i bumped into was some amalgamation of a place i have been to before, even if the general area was a bit more rural than where i live lol there wasn't a cabin tho. mainly just feelings of there being stores and more houses (i live in the suburbs) around us. the houses kind of had the feeling of... being very recently built or still under construction? obviously they're not new now but back then, before the apocalypse, whenever that was, they would've been brand new. not sure if that's an important detail lol

i don't remember bumping into any animals besides the capybaras and maybe a chipmunk or squirrel but i did collect vegetables/fruits?? there were like. bright red tomatoes, cabbage and fresh peaches i picked up from around tree trunks (reminded me a lot of things like breath of the wild) and i tried to give them to the mother/child to help them, since it was clear they were looking for food, but the mother did NOT trust me. she didn't want to be near me and i'm not sure why i kept following her. she looked like she felt a bit uneasy around me as she did not speak english at first, so it was easy to misunderstand my intentions

anyway i decided to give the general area of my dream a go, so let me know if anything in it reminds you of something. it's hard to nail every detail exactly, since you know how dreams like to do good ol switch-a-roos on things but this should be at least a little true to my dream

it's very possible the forest trail was longer but i do not have a solid concept of the time i spent on it. mainly just the beginning. also not sure if jazz and the woman appeared before or after the creek. it was a very shallow but wide stream (honestly i do not remember really walking through it. i just remember seeing it but i KNOW it ran through the trail) anyway, don't be fooled, this whole place i drew is MASSIVE. imagine it's close to a mile long from top to bottom. the forest was huge, the parking lot was huge, the area beyond (north-northeast) was huge with powerlines that felt like they ran parallel to the street but looked like they went perpendicular ...not sure how that worked. they had a field with lots of overgrown tall, dry grass tho

either way, i hope something looks familiar! dreams are so weird with how much context they can provide without needing to actually see it? so i hope you can trust my word on this lol i built purely off what i remember feeling in my dream. and honestly, if i had to say, definitely felt like that sort of area would've had a donkey LMAO or maybe more so deer, but i did not see any nor feel any from the given context

also wondering, how tall are you? and a little more obscure, but do you own or have owned any shirts like this? it's a regular long sleeve, waffle knit shirt with some sort of magenta heather pattern (thanks google for making me have to draw it)

it's probably not important but thought to ask anyway on the off chance you do