#i think part of this is that my joints get worse during the colder months

[queer-reader-07]

call me a rice krispie the way my body snap crackle pops

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For this, I did all 60 prompts. They will be posted twice a day. Some are shorter, some are longer, some are combined and some have multiple parts. Some are rushed and others are nicely done (in my opinion)

Summer of Whump #1: Freezing

"The Torture of Cold"

It was not meant to be 10 degrees out during the summer.

Villain was huddled in a corner, hugging himself. His jaw was clenched to keep from chattering. He was cold, much too cold. The thin shirt he wore did little to protect him from the drafts and chills. The most it did was prevent the artificial windburn that threatened to irritate his already raw skin.

It had been two months. Two months of everlasting torture by Hero, but he refused to give into her feeble attempts to get him to speak.

He was actually surprised that he was able to hold on for this long. Everyday, he would have to endure either a beating or eating poisonous food. He loved the days when he was forced to eat the bad food. He wouldn't talk, so Hero would be forced to care for him. It annoyed her, and him, but it was the easiest torture ever.

Things were so easy that Villain was even able to contact his henchman to get him out of here. Of course, Hero's security was top notch even if she was an amateur torturer. The five carefully planned escapes were basically thrown in the trash.

But now? Now, he was thrown into a room that was below freezing. He had an ice bucket thrown on him ahead of time, so he was ten times colder. After five minutes of sitting there (he was restrained, so he couldn't move to warm himself), his body had gone numb and then the ache of cold began.

The metal cuffs around his elbows and neck made things worse as they sapped up his body heat. He wished that the pain would leave him be.

Villain leaned back as far as he was able to. His eyes squinted against the oncoming wind. He tried to focus on it, not the fact that his body began to shiver mercilessly.

The shivering continued until Villain wanted to scream in pain. It rattled every joint, every muscle. He thought of the warmth he would receive- whether alive or dead- if he just told Hero about Supervillain's plan. Warmth was all he could imagine and he stuck with it. He just wished that Hero would barge in, her obnoxious voice and all and end Villain's suffering. He tossed around two scenes: one where he told Hero the information and being allowed to warm up, and the scarier one of refusing to speak and having to die in this freezer.

Villain squeezed his eyes shut. Was he finally breaking? After all of the pain he previously endured, he was breaking under a little bit of cold. Deep down, Villain knew that the outcome of this new method was far from great; he either died, or would be scared of getting food from a freezer for the rest of his life.

"S-stop... that," Villain stuttered breathlessly. He was concerned and surprise about how weak he sounded. Why was Hero doing this? Villain felt a strange new pressure in his throat. It puzzled him for a moment before realization struck him. He, Villain, was going to cry. A tough, defiant criminal like himself was going to break down in tears.

He actually hoped that the cold would freeze his eyes in place so that they wouldn't commit that treason.

But, of course, the cold did not do the work that Villain willed it to. A single tear slipped out of his right eye and streamed down to his parted mouth. He gulped. Crying was a new sensation. An action that he never allowed himself to do before.

And he hated it, but stopped resisting the almost instinctive urge.

He began to rock on his feet, his neck pressing against the collar and back until exhaustion started to dawn on him. He knew about hypothermia to some degree. Villain froze in his place, hypothermia? The thought did not cross his mind until now. He tried to stop thinking about it, but it proved impossible.

Atleast the shivering stopped, Villain thought gleefully. The aches he earned were still present, but weren't getting worse. Villain looked down at his fingers and tried to move them, concerned about the sudden lack of movement and the cold that came with it. Sure enough, when he tried to wiggle his fingers, they disobeyed.

Villain shut his eyes and let his lips droop. His chest rattled as sobs tried to escape him, but none came out.

Villain's relaxed against his restraints, suddenly very tired.

"Don' slee'," he mumbled, unable to properly form the words, but his body was beginning to shut down. Sleeping, suddenly felt so good that he didn't care about the dangers it would bring. Sleeping meant death, but wouldn't death be warm?

Villain cracked open his eyes. He wouldn't die... wouldn't. Not without a fight. Even if fighting seemed impossible.

But to Villain'a horror, exhaustion had other ideas. His vision began to dim and waver. He shook his head trying to clear it, but the effort made it worse. His breaths were also getting shallower and shallower. He was going to lose consciousness soon and he knew it.

Stop fighting, he told himself sadly. It's not worth it.

Surprisingly, warmth came. Villain didn't know if it was due to a final rush of adrenaline, or if his mind imagined it, but it was there, comforting him. With one last sigh, he allowed unconsciousness to take him.

Little did he know that it was Hero, holding him as his head fell limp into her arms.

"What have I done?" She whispered. Her fingers gently brushed Villain's wet hair off his forehead. He was cold to the touch like a dead corspe. He looked like a dead corspe.

"We need a medic," she spoke into her earpierce. She could hardly look at Villain's face. The red cheeks scratched from the unnecessary windburn she made him go through, the blue lips, and frozen tears and eyelashes.

Hero did not have much experience when it came to doctoring, but she knew that she had to take the wet clothes off. She unlocked the cuffs around his elbows (she already took the collar off previously) and laid him against her chest. Her heart lurched, he was hardly breathing.

"Stay alive for me please," she whispered, unsure if he was able to hear her or not. She doubted it. She took her knife out of her pocket and cut his shirt down the middle, revealing waxy, yellow skin. She looked away, feeling the guilt all over again.

Shortly after her encounter with the frostbite, a team of doctors entered the cell. They immediately took Villain's limp body away from her and wrapped him in blankets. They whisked him away without another word to Hero.

Hero was left there, sulking in the bitter cold room. She didn't know if she wanted to make sure that he would be cared for properly. If he died, then she would not have to do through the guilt of seeing him.

He almost died, under her orders.

It took a while for Hero to muster the courage to visit Villain in the hospital. When she did, she nearly left. Villain was attached to many monitors and IVs. He wore an oxygen mask and didn't seem to be awake.

Hero forced herself to go to his side and take his hand. It was warm, which was good, but it did not help the guilt that coursed through Hero's veins.

And it did not in any way prepare her for the look of sheer terror on Villain's face when his eyes fluttered open.

[sml8180]

Lasting Injuries

I started writing this yesterday when my knee was acting up from an injury I sustained roughly 8 years ago, and it initially inspired me to write this. I HC that Damien didn’t just have a cane for the looks of it, but because he actually needed it due to an old injury. I decided to write a story about what had happened to him, and when I asked in one of the Discord servers I’m a part of what that injury should be, @doctordiscord123 suggested that maybe Will accidentally shot Damien in the knee while showing off a new gun.

This story is the result of that idea, along with SEVERAL odd google searches.

Heads up for the following: Gun violence, poor gun safety, accidental shooting, accidental kneecapping, descriptions of injuries, chronic pain, long term injuries.

Lasting Injuries

William had told Damien that he had something to show him. He’d told Damien to head outside, and wait for him by the treeline, while he grabbed whatever it was he was going to show off from his room.

Damien hadn’t known what he’d expected, but he knew he wasn’t expecting William to show up and show him a gun. It was a brand new revolver, the metal clean and shiny, and Will held it in his hand as if it were meant to be there.

“I got it for my sixteenth birthday the other day!” Will exclaimed, showing off the revolver to his friend. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Damien nodded. He wasn’t exactly a gun person, but he enjoyed seeing his friend so excited. “You do know what you’re doing with that, right?”

“Of course I do! I’ve fired one before, but now I have my own!”

Damien seemed to relax a bit when he learned that Will knew how to handle his new weapon. He’d known it was only a matter of time before he ended up getting a gun, anyways, seeing as he wanted to go into the military some day. Now that his nerves were somewhat calmed, he was curious. “How does it work?”

“It’s simple, really!” Will told him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “This releases the cylinder,” he mused, pulling back the release to let the cylinder swing out. “And you load it like this,” he narrated, loading a round into one of the chambers, before clicking the cylinder back into place. He stepped back a bit, adjusting his grip on the gun as he went. “You look down the sights to find where you’re aiming, pull the hammer back,” Will looked down the sights of the gun.

Damien trusted that Will wasn’t aiming at him. He didn’t think he should move, until it was far too late. The shot rang out across the manor grounds, and the next thing Damien knew, he was on the ground, unsure of really what had happened. Things seemed to slow as Will set the gun down and ran to him, pulling off his coat and wrapping it around Damien’s knee.

“Just, just stay there, I’ll get help,” Will rambled, sounding shaken as he stood, sprinting back to the manor.

While William was gone, Damien started to feel a sort of burning pain radiating through his leg. It was dull at first, but as the moments ticked by, he could feel it getting worse. Will returned with a couple members of the house staff, along with Celine, who quickly knelt beside him, immediately starting to fuss over him.

He didn’t really remember much after that. He remembered Celine and the two adults fussing over him, making sure that he kept calm. They all brought him inside, and he remembered being loaded into an ambulance, with Celine by his side, holding his hand.

A few days later, Damien was feeling a little more himself. He was still confined to his bed in the hospital, but he was awake and alert. That was when he learned that William had shot him in the knee. William was apologizing profusely, saying he hadn’t meant to, it was an accident, he thought he was aiming at the tree.

“Will, calm down,” Damien consoled. “I’ll be alright, there’s no need to worry.”

Damien didn’t realize just how long it would be until he was up and walking again.

He went through three or four operations in an attempt to repair the damage to his left knee. The shot hadn’t been direct; the round had hit more to the side of his kneecap, shattering part of it, but not shattering the entire joint. The doctors did what they could to piece things back together, but there was only so much they could do. After all the operations, Damien had to go through weeks of therapy in order to even take a few steps. He was on crutches for what felt like ages, he wore various braces for years, and used a cane to get around after that.

He did his best to walk unassisted when he could, being the stubborn man he was, especially when it came time for his mayoral campaign. He wanted to seem strong, he didn’t want the public to see him relying on a cane, didn’t want them to see him limping.

Will had always been apologetic about what had happened; he almost never had a gun out around Damien after the incident. Damien always reminded him that it was an accident. They were just kids at the time, after all, they didn’t know better. He didn’t hold any grudge against his friend.

He’d never admit to Will’s face just how frustrating the lasting toll the injury took on him really was.

There were days where his knee hurt so badly he couldn’t stand. Days where he wouldn’t leave the house because he didn’t want to be seen leaning heavily on a cane with his knee braced. He snapped at doctors, at peers, at his own sister, some days, when the pain and limitations became just too much.

His campaign pushed his limits some days. All the events he went to, the debates, the rallies, and everything else, it all took a toll on his knee. Damien had to be on his feet so much, and he couldn’t just skip out on things; it would make him seem unreliable if he did. He did what he could to stick it out, made as many of the events as he could.

The colder months were a blessing and a curse. The cold often lead to more stiffness in his knee, causing it to be sore more often than not. But, he often wore long coats during colder weather, which he made sure would fall beyond his knees, allowing him to wear one of his braces. It wasn’t his best brace, but it was better than nothing.

It was early spring when the campaign ended, when all Damien could do was wait and hope he’d done enough. He waited inside, his fingers crossed. Justice, a friend from his years in university, was by his side, trying to help calm his anxieties, as well as offering some support to keep Damien’s weight off his injured knee, which was starting to act against the man once again.

Celine rushed in, carrying something behind her back. The results were about to be announced, Damien had to show his face out there, especially if it was him who ended up the victor.

“Celine!” Damien called, as his sister approached. “You said you would be here almost half an hour ago.”

“I know, I know,” Celine stated, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “I needed to pick something up.”

“I need to get outside,” Damien told her, already beginning to pull away from Justice. “What did you need to pick up?” he questioned, knowing full well his sister would be following him. He didn’t get an answer, and simply rolled his eyes as he stepped outside, just in time for the man up on the stage to begin reading off the final results in front of him.

It barely registered that it was his name being read off.

“Just a little something for you, Mayor Damien,” Celine finally told him, offering a cane to her stunned brother. The object was brand new, and straight as an arrow; the main body a shiny black, with a silver tip and ornate silver topper.

Damien took the cane in his hands, speechless. It felt as if time had stopped, at least until he felt Celine taking hold of his shoulders and turning him around.

“Well, go on! You need to say something to them!”

The new mayor took a breath, and stood a little straighter as he scanned the audience. Hundreds, thousands of eyes were trained on him. He took a deep breath, and planted the silver tip of the cane on the ground, finding that it felt far more sturdy than his older ones. He took his first steps with it up onto the stage, and felt the wave of energy from the audience wash over him as he walked to the podium with confidence.

They were some of the most confident steps he’d taken since he was a teenager.

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Dark felt fairly decent when he got up in the morning. His shoulders and neck didn’t feel as bad as they had for some time. He felt like today was going to be a good day.

That was until he went to actually get out of bed. His left knee practically gave out on him.

He thought back to that day so many years ago. When Damien had been shot in the knee. That injury had been a part of him for so long. Even though he was no longer in Damien’s body, he could feel the injury all the same.

Dark sighed, looking to the mess of pink hair beside him, still sleeping. Wilford didn’t remember the incident from what he could tell. It was for the best, really. He always claimed that it was simply his chronic pain that occasionally lead to him bracing his knee, or using a cane. He didn’t mention the damage that had been done by a stray bullet.

So, Dark simply braced himself against the wall, going about his usual routine. He showered, did his makeup, got dressed. He was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room when Wil woke up, strapping his brace into place to support his knee.

“One of those days, Darky?” Wil tiredly asked, getting out of bed and approaching his husband, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders and kissing his cheek.

“Mm-hm. One of those days,” Dark responded, returning his husband’s sleepy kiss.

Wil nodded, and picked up Dark’s cane from the corner. Dark took it from him, running his thumb over the topper for a moment before standing up.

“I’m going to head down to the dining room. I’ll see you at breakfast,” he mused, giving Wilford a final kiss to the cheek before making his way out of the room.

He found an odd comfort in the sound of the silver tip of the cane against the wood floors of the manor. It was a familiar sound, one that Damien had found oddly comforting for years, and one that Dark now found oddly soothing. With the brace on his knee, and the cane in his hand, Dark walked with a surprising confidence, despite the lasting injuries that tried to slow him down.

[hollenka99]

The Creator

Summary: When Sean discovers he has the ability to bring his characters to life, he wasn’t expecting to be shunned by them or for it to lead to tragedy time and time again.

Warnings: Blood mention, implied death (including children), kidnapping mention

Sean wishes he never went to Max's house that night. It wasn't any fun. They were just really mean to him and he didn't like it. It's not like he didn't try to stay awake. It was a dumb anyway. His mother asks him if he'd like her to speak with Max's mother. He tells her no. In response she encourages him to stop moping about if it wasn't that bad. Well, fine then. Max sucks and Sean can make a way better friend than him any day. Right, what kind of qualities should a good friend have? He should be kind always, never teases him in a mean way, be willing to be there for him and want to join in with his games. For the hell of it, Sean adds 'never sleeps' to the criteria. This imaginary friend is named Jack, after the family nickname. Having been moulded into the 6 year old's interpretation of a perfect friend, Jack becomes a concrete part of Sean's life. Jack is always there when he gets home from school. They mess around in the woods near the house, complain about homework together and share a great deal of laughter between themselves. For years, his parents and siblings brush it off as him being a little boy. However, Sean is undeniably getting older. With each birthday, having an imaginary friend is increasingly becoming something he should outgrow. And he is, somewhat. It's just that Jack feels so real to him. But his friend understands. Sean is no longer 6 and it is time for him to gradually mature. He gets crushes, makes his way through secondary school and decides he may have made a mistake with his original degree choice. Through it all, he's maintained an interest in video games. So screw it, there is a place for gaming content on YouTube. What does he have to lose? This damn cabin doesn't exactly allow him many opportunities to socialise with those outside his family otherwise. He goes by Jacksepticeye on the website, harkening back to a nickname he gained following an injury years before. Months pass and it is soon July. To his surprise, his channel's subscriber count reaches 1000. He's delighted. That was 1000 more than he'd ever really expected. He films a vlog to mark the occasion and thank his audience. Something he'd expected even less than his sub count was his doppelganger, complete with an identical outfit, collapsing in front of his television. Regaining composure after getting to his feet, the clone speaks. "Um, hi Sean." "What the fuck? Who are you and why do look like me?" "I'm Jack." "Okay. Hello Jack. What the hell are you doing in my living room?" "No, Jack as in... Jack. From when you were a kid." Sean stands there, no words coming from his mouth. He seems to remember himself after a minute. "But you're imaginary. You were an imaginary friend, it's kind of in the name." "I guess that's changed." Jack shrugs, obviously as lost as he was by this unique situation. Sean falls back onto the sofa. With his hands in his hair, he lets out a deep breath. Jack gently sits himself on the other side of the sofa. Not bothering to lift his head, Sean opens his mouth. "I'm going to be honest. This was not how I imagined my day going." "I didn't think I'd suddenly come to life either." Sean leans back and their eyes meet. A beat passes before they both descend into laughter at the absurdity of it. That summer is phenomenal compared to his previous expectations for it. He introduces Jack to so many things that he usually took for granted. They eat more tubs of ice cream together than was healthy, don't allow a week to pass without a competitive gaming session and occasionally wander about in the woods surrounding the cabin. There was apparently a whole other world with people Jack haphazardly described as 'the NPCs to my main character'. Their faces were probably based on people Sean had walked past in the street. There was this completely separate world and the entry point was simply lingering outside his cabin. It was inconceivable. When he gets the courage to venture through the gateway, he discovers it's actually a bit remote. Isolated, like his cabin is. Jack helps him laugh it off. Besides, he couldn't be expected to be creative with his literal worldbuilding if he didn't know how he was doing it in the first place. Jack introduces him to a friend who was like him. This Australian guy called Angus Irwin tags along to a hang out session. Here was this person, standing right before him, whom he was entirely responsible for creating. By messing around in Far Cry 3 and putting on a dumb accent, he'd created life. What the hell was he capable of? The three of them are firm friends by the time the local trees have suffered a significant loss of leaves. He and Jack gradually become the joint face of the Jacksepticeye channel. For some reason (Jack cited Sean's 6 year old self for this) his doppelganger didn't sleep. This was actually very beneficial for him because he could edit while Sean slept. God knows Jack complained enough about his sleep schedule. When he gets announced as a winner of Pewdiepie's shout out competition in September, Jack swings by to congratulate him. Along with Angus, the trio spent the evening celebrating this bizarre occasion. There was a lot of work he'd have to put in to keep the momentum going but Sean knew it would be worth it in the end. The colder months fly by after that. Jack had never been particularly affected by the cold before. However, now that he could feel it, he suffered the consequences of not wearing enough layers. Jack detesting the cold is funny to Sean, especially after how much his friend thrived in summer. Angus wasn't used to the lower Irish temperatures either. He helped them stay warm as best he could. That goddamn cabin with its internally forming frost didn't help but still, he tried. He jokes he should conjure up more radiators for Jack and Angus' home despite not having the faintest clue how to actually do so. As the new year approaches, Sean realises he never gave Jack a birthday. They could have celebrated in November because he is maybe 90% sure Max was born during that month. Therefore, Jack would have been initially thought up during November 1996. But Sean had no idea what the specific date of creation was. Not to mention November had already passed anyway. There was that date in July but he wasn't sure he should pick the anniversary of Jack becoming corporeal as his birthday. At a loss, he goes for the day he associates with birthdays the most. Who says Jack couldn't share his birthday? He blanks on what to get his friend. He's not sure where he gets the dumb idea to let Jack experience hot chocolate for the first time as a birthday treat. Jack gets understandably frustrated by this ban on the drink. It pays off when Sean gets to witness the wonderful sight of his friend enjoying hot chocolate. Lost on what to give Angus for his birthday in early April, he approaches Jack for ideas. His friend suggests getting a toy leopard and jewellery that can fit on the animal. Sean can't help but question the odd combination. When Jack explains leopards love jewellery, especially the gold digging females, it's as if these were widely known facts. Sean had been bullshitting when he'd spouted that nonsense. Jack reminds him it was factual to Angus. Oh alright, fuck it. Let's present Angus with a jewellery loving leopard on his birthday. As predicted, the Australian wildlife man greatly appreciates the gift. It's late summer once more when Sean's problems begin. Jack mentions being concerned about their friend's changing sleeping habits. Then Angus' memory gradually starts suffering. Throughout 2015, Angus gets worse. Jack's always had a big mouth. He tends to speak before he truly thinks things through. Sean's technically to blame for that. However, it hasn't been much of an issue until now. The first time Jack brings up potentially finding a way to reverse whatever was affecting Angus, he hates to reject him. The painfully dejected look in his best friend's eyes breaks his heart. He wants to help, he really does. He just can't. Not long after, he spends an hour or two looking for a game with an open world. Perhaps he could put on an Australian accent for the anniversary of the character's first appearance. Nothing comes up. Life gets in the way. Sean abandons the search for a while. Jack never allows him to forget for too long. What starts as "I'm worried about Angus" soon morphs into "Angus only called me Jake once today". The longer it goes on, the more desperate Jack gets. And angrier. Sean has never seen such frustrated fury in his friend. He wishes he never had to. He's not even sure if he can call himself a true friend anymore, given how much he's already failed them. The cycle of attempting to find a solution and putting it on the back burner due to no leads continues. As do the arguments with Jack. Contrary to popular belief, he is putting in the effort. The main problem was he never seemed to have anything to show for it. He still cares for Angus too. The reason he wasn't visiting their home as often was because he didn't always feel welcome. As was in Jack's nature, he kept forgiving him. He'd say it was fine and Sean would agree for the sake of it. But it wasn't fine. He is beginning to forget when the last time things were 'fine'. Following some filming with Ninja Sex Party, Sean is excited to dress up as a superhero for a bit during a Welcome To The Game video. Jack is just as pleased to make a new friend. Jackie is a surprise, his young age even more so. He was 16 and, as far Jack had told him, brimming with excess energy. The new arrival had been a shock for Jack too, apparently. The most he could offer the kid last night was a can of Dr Pepper and some custard creams. Shit, this was new territory. He hasn't had to deal with a new ego in years. Jackie's age causes conversations about school and whether the boy would need an education in the first place. Sean doesn't necessarily see the point. Was Jackie currently the only minor in their world? Because in that case, has a high school suddenly popped up to accommodate a single student? Even if Sean created a character with children at a later date, the kids would probably be the wrong age group to attend school with Jackie. If it was that important to Jack to see the young superhero have an education, he would have to do it himself. Being home-schooled would also allow Jackie to do his job. Attempts at being responsible aside, he ensures Jackie knows he can come to him if needs anything specific. Naturally, he gravitates to Jack as his adult role model. Sean doesn't mind. They live together and Jackie therefore has easier access to him. But Sean is still there if the need arises. A month later, he buys a cheap cat mask that covers half of his face. It was something to use once and forget about until you throw it away in a big spring clean. The magic set was the same, only with extra smaller parts. The video is nothing spectacular. All it entailed was him messing around with the box's contents before switching to decorating the mask. The last thing he was anticipating was the creation of life. Although, by this point, perhaps he should have. Besides, he hadn't even given himself a name. It was just 'Jack the Magnificent'. Jack comes to rectify this oversight a couple days later. He explains he'd made the suggestion the night of Marvin's arrival. The box had the name on it so why not let the new ego make it his own? The main issue Jack had with all this was that Marvin had not been planned in the slightest. With Jackie, there'd been some preparation. Neither of them may have foreseen his creation but at least there had been a name and outfit. All Marvin had was a mask, plus a name that was already taken. "This better not happen again." Jack privately demands. "I don't want another Angus. God knows you're not going to help." Jack swings by at the end of August to inform him Jackie's in hospital. He'd gotten stabbed while confronting a thief. He was fine, recovering well and all that but he thought Sean might want to know. On the subject of requiring medical care, Jack brings up the idea to have a doctor ego. Just someone who understood their unique situation and could also take care of their health. Oh, oh yeah. He can totally do that. He'll need some things for the video so give him a chance to prepare but definitely, one doctor coming right up. He feels somewhat dumb playing Operation as if it were a serious procedure in this cheap surgeon's outfit he bought over the weekend. And yes, even he can admit the 'German' accent was atrocious. Half of what comes out of his mouth is bullshit. If this works as intended and he creates an ego from it, this guy is sure going to be interesting. He pretends to be distressed over Peter's death. Then it hits him that Dr Schneeplestein probably won't appreciate him killing his friend and personal accountant. He could try refilm it but he doubts he has the time. Fix it through editing? Sure, but then it might be obvious that there was another part. Alright fine, maybe he'll just have to deal with the consequences. Dr Henrik von Schneeplestein is indeed an interesting guy. A married father too, which surprises him. Not only has he made the doctor, there is a new family of 5 in the egos' neighbourhood. One of these days he'll know what he's doing with this creation thing. For now though, he thinks it's very cool that he managed a 5 for the price of 1 deal. Henrik himself is intelligent and if Sean was more knowledgeable on certain topics, he's sure they'd be able to share thoughtful conversations. Either way, Henrik was incredibly busy with his professional duties and personal commitments. It was understandable that neither had much time in the day to sit down and truly get to know one another. For the hell of it, he throws in a little extra into the egos' characterisation. They can't die. Or, to be more specific, they can't die for long. Jackie gets stabbed and bleeds out? Easy, just deal with the wound and he should wake up after a while. What this means for Peter, who knows? Sean is secretly thankful when the accountant isn't granted life. That's one less person to keep happy. Like seemingly everything ego-related he does, it backfires. Within a year, this failsafe will have caused more suffering than hope. Sean isn't to know. However, he convinces himself he's done the right thing for once. He sure as hell knows how much trouble it's going to cause him if they don't believe that too. Sean makes an irreversible mistake in the October of 2016. The entire month, he has glitches sprinkled throughout his horror game videos. He gets so caught up in the teasing and build up that he doesn't contemplate how this will affect the egos. Worse yet, he recklessly allows Jack to film the Halloween video. Sure, he would have used a bit of red paint if it had been him filming. But since it was Jack? He doesn't want to imagine the scene Jackie discovers. God, he can't believe he's been so thoughtless. Signe has to encourage him to bed before he manages to rack up over 24 hours of being awake in one go. Resurrecting the dead is exhausting, he finds. He postpones visiting Jack for a day before realising his avoidance is likely making matters worse. The dread cumulates to the point he swears he will be sick if he doesn't actively focus on his breathing. The loophole he made in September might have ensured nobody died permanently but it never mentioned scars. It's not visible behind the bandages but he knows it's there. Jack is pissed off. Rightfully so. Matters worsen even more after Jackie vanishes while attempting to get away from their fighting. It's just another thing that's ruined the egos' perception of him. If he thought the hill Jack was ready to die on was Angus, he's got another thing coming. There's only so much he can take before he has to force apathy for the sake of his sanity. He understands he can't control Antisepticeye. Once this situation is dealt with, he vows, the demon will never be used on his channel again. The subscribers' love for the character will have to ignored. It's too risky to play Anti again. He puts the red suit on again. In the short video, only a minute or so in length, Jackie sprints through poorly lit corridors to the exit. Sean acts scared and looks behind him frequently as he runs. It is uploaded privately. His community didn't need to know anything about this. He hopes with everything he's got that it works. Nothing. For days, for weeks, for months. Sean doesn't bother letting the egos know what he'd tried to do. It's guaranteed Jack and Marvin would tell him to try harder. He has no idea what that means in this context. Christmas passes without incident. As does January. In February, he celebrates his 27th birthday alongside Jack. It's a day devoid of resentment. Sean had almost forgotten that was allowed in their friendship. He exaggerates his dissatisfaction about getting older. In response to this, Jack smears the frosting of his slice across Sean's face. 'Accidentally', of course. Just as accidentally as Sean reciprocated the action. Signe humours them by taking photographs of their new cake-based look. The next time they are hanging out in Jack's room, he notices a picture from that day is in a frame on his friend's dresser. "What's this about?" "Oh uh, this is going to sound dumb but... I like being reminded it isn't always so rough between us." "No. No, I get it. I um, I feel the same way. That day was great." He glances at the image once more. He lets out a humoured scoff. "Maybe I should save your dumb face to my phone." "Aww, wow, I knew you loved me really." Jack puts his arm around his shoulder. A playful shove. "Fuck off." In an emotional slump during April, he buys a bunch of Lyons boxes and mini chocolate eggs. It's just a parody of Dude Perfect from someone with zero accuracy. Then he does the stupid thing and creates life again. Fuck it, his wife hates him and he may never see his kids again. Chase Brody's depression causes him to pretend to shoot himself before the end card plays. When Jack calls him and demands to know what the hell he was thinking, Sean has no answer. It turns out that when the ending translated into Chase's reality, he'd actually shot himself in the head. Fuck. Afterwards, Jack doesn't provide his creator with any updates. Insisting he has the right to talk to Chase only makes him more hated. Despite having never met before, Chase already resents him. The next time an ego is intentionally created, Sean's going to be there to intercept them. They're not going to enter that home and have their opinion of him influenced by people who wished he wasn't in their lives. The next new guy would be given a fair chance to see Sean for what he was. A massive screw up when it came to the ability he's unsure how to master. But in no way was he some villain. August is around the corner when Jack asks to visit. The two of them seem to be on the same page that day. Sean is more than happy to hang out and cheer him up. Believing Jack would be empathetic, he begins a conversation about how the YouTube algorithm was bothering him. Over three years of working as a duo on the Jacksepticeye channel meant Jack should understand where he was coming from. But, of course, his friend makes it all about himself and his own problems. Why wouldn't he? It's what he usually does. They argue because apparently that's the only way they communicate with each other nowadays. Jack sure knows how to pack a punch. Being friends with him shouldn't be such a struggle. Sean snaps. The emotional fatigue of trying to keep up with the algorithm and all this fighting causes him to make one of the worst decisions he'd ever go through with. If Jack wants him to be the bad guy, fine. Sean would be the bad guy. Just this once, he'd actually be the asshole. "You want to sleep, I'll let you sleep." He threatens when Jack begins walking off mid-argument. "Bring back Jackie. He's been missing for months. Do something!" Jack flings viciously back seconds before he marches out the door. He can tell Signe regrets asking him how the gaming session went. He dresses as Schneeplestein as soon as he finalises his plan, pretending he aims to save a version of himself in Bio Inc Redemption. He loses. Oops. He acts as he feels the real Schneeplestein would, desperate not to watch another patient die. He sends the video to Robin for editing. The final uploaded product is nowhere near what he'd recorded. His audience are all talking about Anti. They were praising him for his acting and Robin for his editing. But... he never included Anti. Any recollection of filming the final scene was non-existent. And the parts with Henrik getting possessed weren't him either. The more he thinks about it, the further the terror sets in. Over the course of years, Jack had chipped at Sean's mind until he cracked. It had only meant to end with Jack slipping into a coma. Just a chance for Sean to focus on his own problems for once. He would have gotten Henrik to wake his patient up when Sean was ready. God, he just wanted peace for a change. It was never meant to happen like this. Marvin ever so pleasantly greets him with a "Fuck off" when he tries to visit Jack. He supposes he deserves it. But he didn't come here just to back down at the first sight of opposition. He may have caused Jack to be in that coma but, as his friend, he was still entitled to a visit. He has to push past Marvin just to get in. "Leave right now before I make you regret it." Marvin tails him through the corridor. "Hey, listen, I'll be the first to admit I fucked up big time-" He says over his shoulder. "You don't say." "But he was my friend too. I am seeing him whether you like it or not." "Well, I don't like it. And this is my home. So get out." Fed up to the back teeth of Marvin, he halts to whip around before lashing out. "We both know a bad mood on my part can spell disaster for you. That is how we got into this situation is the first place. So I would watch your mouth." "Oh, look at me, I'm Sean McLoughlin. I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it." Marvin uses a mocking tone before reverting to venom once more. "Guess that's what you told your 'best friend' before you put him in a fucking coma, isn't it?" "Don't you dare suggest I don't care." "You made him feel like he had no choice but to keep being nice to your sorry ass. He barely survived Halloween and now look where he's en-" "God, cut it out!" Chase marches towards them, looking as if he was 30 seconds from grabbing a weapon to silence them. "Both of you. Sean, you have 10 minutes then we want you gone. Marv, leave him alone because we honestly have enough shit going on without you stirring more of it." Marvin bluntly says "Five." "Okay, fine, you have 5 minutes then you leave." The magician clearly isn't satisfied with this compromise but decides it's not worth the effort of fighting further. "Thank you." "It wasn't for you. I did it so I can avoid a headache." Chase promptly leaves him to it. He's not even sure he wants to enter once he reaches the infirmary's doors. Still, he's gone through too much trouble to get this far. He can't undo all that effort now. He walks into the room and- Nope, he can't do this. He means, look at Jack! He makes for an awful sight. If his friend had looked terrible while recovering from Say Goodbye, this was a whole other level. He decides against making it past the doors. He's simply there in the corridor, sobbing. "Sean, I think you should go before Marvin tries to commit arson or something." It's the most patience Chase can muster after all that's happened this week. Sean can't appreciate the effort enough. He answers with a mix of 'Uh-huh, yeah, sure.' Jackie looks like he hasn't eaten a thing in the past 11 months when Sean answers the door to him in early October. He doesn't know what to say. If Jack were currently conscious, he would have probably informed Sean of the kid's arrival by now. Yet, as it stood, Marvin seemed to be the new 'leader' and pigs would fly before he bothered to do anything that benefited Sean. He notices Jackie never lets his feet touch the ground the entire time he's there. There is a long silence in the living room before Jackie comes out with "Why didn't you do anything?" "I tried but it didn't work." "Somehow I struggle to believe that." "Jackie-" "You could have prevented a lot of shit. But why fucking bother when we're not even real, right?" "If you give me a couple minutes, I could find that video where I tried to trigger your escape." Jackie doesn't reply. He locates the footage for him regardless. The teenager remains silent the whole time. Sean decides to break it. "It must have backfired but I did try." He notices Jackie glaring at his own legs. "Great, now I know you're to blame. Not to mention you moved country while I was gone. Thanks for making me walk from Athlone, by the way." The boy superhero abruptly makes his exit, making no attempt to elaborate. Well then, great chat. Except, wait. Walk from Athlone? How the hell do you walk from Athlone to Brighton?! Sean makes good on the promise he made to himself months before. He risks uploading the pictures to Instagram. On the 29th, there is a fair amount of hype at the potential new character. He lingers inconspicuously near the egos' home for a couple hours, keeping himself occupied with his phone in case the ego didn't appear. Which he doesn't. He repeats the activity after posting the 2nd photo on the 30th. Still nothing. It's the video on Halloween that triggers creation. It was a simple thing. The same as the previous two years, he had carved a pumpkin. The main difference was that he had dressed up like a dapper gentleman, waistcoat and bowler hat inclusive. There was some glitching at the end, nothing Sean or Robin had a hand in. He supposes he should be glad there was such a small interruption. Outside the house, he spots the lost time traveller. His first surprise, for both of them it would seem, was that Jameson had lost the ability to speak. He seems reluctant to use the speech slides. No worries. Sean can buy a notepad or two for him tomorrow. Learning to sign, or in the very least understand it. will take a considerable amount of time. Written responses would have to be a sufficient compromise for now. Either way, the most important thing was that Jameson was willing to come with him before he met the others. He is in awe of Jameson. He knows he'd intended to create an ego with a proper backstory but this was far more than he'd been expecting. He had drafted a brief life story beforehand. Jameson would be the middle child of three in an upper class British family. He'd be too young to join WW1 but his brother would lose his hearing to it, allowing Jameson to know sign by the time he went missing. Maybe throw in some time in the army for good measure. However his power worked, it filled in the gaps nicely. Jameson is fully fleshed out, as are his memories. "Thanks for humouring me." He tells Signe that night. She hums in acknowledgement of what he'd said. "You can't keep him here forever, you realise that, right? I'll let you have tomorrow. But you really should let him make his own choices after that." On the 1st, Chase comes knocking. Sean relents, allowing him in to be introduced to Jameson. As expected, Chase calls him out. He assures Jameson that it was fine to go with the unfamiliar ego. As hostile as Chase was, he was still trustworthy and believed he had Jameson's best interests at heart. He lets his latest creation go. Now he will be taught the egos' version of the 'truth'. He doubted Jameson would be rushing back. But oh, there he is days later. It's completely reasonable for the dapper man to want answers. Sean provides them to the best of his ability. Jameson surprises him once more when he says he'll let the deception slide if he cuts it out from now on. Of course he will. As Jameson heads off back to his world, Sean is thankful he made him open minded. While having a casual conversation, Jameson mentions befriending someone named Shawn. At first, Sean is simply perplexed at the written name. Jameson knows how to spell his name, even includes the fada. So surely Shawn couldn't be him. When he has his friend explain, he can't believe it. Shawn Flynn. In other words, his Bendy voice cameo. Okay, egos like Henrik, Chase or Marvin, he could understand. Those guys had gotten specific videos that centred around them. He also got the whole 'springing from him putting on a voice for a series' thing with Angus and Jacques etc. Robbie... well, who the fuck knows what happened there. The point was they all came from his channel and his channel alone. Shawn Flynn was not his to claim. He was only a voice, a few sentences' worth of speech. He will always be amazed by his community's power to create from scraps. As soon as he lost Jack's contribution to the channel, he had been forced to pick up the slack. Even with Robin editing most videos, recording twice as many as he was used to was taking its toll. Something had to be done. He needed a new recording partner. And who better to help him than someone who already had experience with maintaining a channel? Obviously, Chase is opposed to the idea at first. He tries to get him to listen to his reasoning. Without Jack, he was struggling to have time for himself anymore. If he has no time outside of work, then how is he supposed to figure out how to reverse the coma? Not to mention, the community members were the ones responsible for keeping the egos from fading. Chase agrees to, in the very least, consider the offer. Sean is glad to have him as part of the team when he reluctantly accepts it. He is very grateful too. He knows this requires a sacrifice on Chase's part, perhaps more than he is aware of. In the run up to Christmas, he'd simply wanted to raise money for Save The Children with the help of his friends and community. There had occasionally been odd noises throughout the first day but nothing super suspicious. He has no clue where the hell the security footage came from. He had intended for the stream to stay up, sure, but it was meant to display a screensaver. Some people begin to notice the glitches and unusual goings on were triggered by donations of at least $1000. Well, how nice to learn that Anti liked encouraging charitable donations. The day after the event is over, Jameson attempts to speak to him about it. Listen, he's really sorry to hear about what happened over at the house. It's awful that Jackie suffered a huge panic attack from the music. But what do they expect him to do about an event that's already passed and he had no control over in the first place? The less he has to think about 'Overnightwatch' over the holidays, or Anti in general during the new year, the better. He's so fucking done with 2017. The following cold months blur. The Dr Jacksepticeye character becomes a community-made ego in January. That was great. He was aware the egos had been struggling to provide Jack professional medical care. March sees Chase getting custody of his kids on the weekend. Although he doesn't risk ruining the party with the scene his attendance would cause, he congratulates Chase on the good news in person. To top things off, he began the first leg of his tour. That had been a hell of an experience. Maybe 2018 would indeed be a better year. This hope is kept alight at the start of May. He had spent months attempting to work out how to save Jackie. Following that, they lost Henrik only to welcome the hero back. Then the doctor had been out of reach since August. It is for this reason that he receives the news of Henrik's return with great relief. Chase is ecstatic when he recounts what had happened at the end of his recording session. Sean is happy for him. He and the rest of egos need more positive events in their lives. Jackie certainly surprises him when he randomly shows up at his door days later. Signe gives him a heads up about the visitor as he leaves a recording session. The teenager comes across as distracted while they talk. Something feels really off. Then again, they haven't been able to talk since his kidnapping. Months' worth of trauma were bound to change how Jackie acted in certain situations. When he eventually leaves, Sean feels like he's missing some sort of sign. The community goes insane after Dark Silence is uploaded. He cautiously makes himself watch the infamous ending. Once more, Anti has added content to a video. The whole time Chase stands in that hallway, Sean is begging his screen for his friend to start sprinting in the other direction, as far from Anti as he could manage. But, of course, you can't prevent an abduction through a screen, especially when it had happened hours beforehand. Chase seemed so distressed. The thought of his reaction to Anti won't leave Sean be. Nor will those two questions. Jameson swings by in an attempt to comfort him. For what it's worth, his heart is in the right place. Sean just doesn't feel he's in a position to appreciate the efforts properly. He supposes this is his opportunity to finally get a rescue attempt right. Yet, with the tour and having to revert back to multiple recordings a day, time slips away. No doubt he'll get accused of not caring. Thankfully, Chase returns in June. Mostly unscathed physically too which is good. He wishes the same could be said for mental repercussions. Chase relapsing hard with his alcoholism wasn't great to hear either. Suffice to say, Chase needed help. Some good news about the whereabouts of his ex and two young children would be fantastic too. The Akinator video is fun. He enjoys making that website's algorithm figure out the characters. Admittedly, he doesn't know whether picking Jameson for a round was a smart idea. Even worse are some of the questions he gets offered. There are two specifically he doesn't feel comfortable answering on camera. He plays it off as teasing eventual ego content to his audience. In reality, he's not sure it's his place to say. And it's hardly like he can put the recording on hold to contact Jameson about his personal life. The video goes up and the community naturally laps it up. Sean wonders if he should be concerned about the fact Jameson was yet to speak to him about it. In October, he asks Jameson to deliver a card on his behalf. Henrik would be amputating Jackie's legs in an attempt to reverse one of the most prominent aftereffects of his time with Anti. Therefore, a get well card was in order. It's not much but he hopes Jackie will appreciate the gesture nonetheless. Jameson simply shrugs as he hands him a note a couple weeks later. He ends up finding the message humourous. On it is written: Thanks for the card but you don't need to bother next time. He's just about had enough of Anti when Quit The Game To Win gets recorded. He's not sure at which point in the video he becomes lightheaded. There's a brief moment of zoning out then he's sitting at his desk, having sent the video off for editing a minute prior. Unlike the other times, there is no extra content even Robin was oblivious to. The footage of Sean staring into the camera had undoubtedly been there the whole time. They debate whether to upload it. The decision gets taken out of their hands when it is uploaded regardless. That goddamn bastard. He probably realises Sean can't take down a video like that with no explanation. And what explanation is there to give? The community has no idea the egos were real or that it was actually Anti speaking to them. Oh but sure, the compliments to his 'amazing acting' pour in without fail. Also, next phase? What the hell was Anti planning to do? He and the egos would have to remain proceeding with caution. On his 29th birthday, he is surprised to find numerous egos on his doorstep. A little dumbfounded, he invites them in for cake. It wasn't like he was doing much today other than typical work stuff and checking out the community's birthday art. Chase spots his notebook, the one containing his story plans. This topic of conversation leads to them encouraging him to rectify his mistakes by waking Jack up. He's all for it. Even after all these years, he's not sure how exactly his power worked. He gets it into his head that staying up indefinitely will cause Jack to remain conscious. Somehow, this becomes the actual criteria. As the day goes on, he thinks about how things must be like over at the egos' home. It must be wonderful to have Jack up and about. He can imagine him sharing jokes, laughing and smiling, just generally enjoying the company of friends. He's always been a bit of a night owl. He can manage to stay up the whole night, for Jack's sake. Jack deserves as much time as he can give him. He increases his caffeine intake. It didn't matter whether it was coffee or a fizzy drink. If it had caffeine and could help him stay up longer, he'd drink it. His plan seemingly backfires when he plays Shadow of the Colossus while exhausted. He wakes up with a crick in his neck, the sight of Wander stationary upon Agro's back and looming guilty disappointment. When he checks in, Henrik confirms Jack was indeed back in the medical bay, unresponsive as ever. The doctor tells him that, not for nothing, they'd all enjoyed the day. It had been after 2am when Jack had begun exhibiting signs of diminishing consciousness. Even if the others may not admit it, he was sure he wasn't the only one who appreciated what Sean had given them. Perhaps one of the stupidest things he ever voluntarily subjects himself to occurs that May. He leaves peculiar edits in the Observation series. Then he posts an unlisted video of him facing off against his clone with a bloodied throat and exclusively black attire. It works. For the first time in Sean's life, he stands in Anti's presence. As it turns out, Anti is grateful. If it hadn't been for Sean spending weeks playing around with a community fuelled concept, complete with a grande finale, the glitch would still be lurking in the shadows as a nobody. Sean had solidified him. Antisepticeye had long since stopped being a fun idea that lived purely in fan creations or Tumblr headcanon posts. Even better, he'd been armed with a knife and violent tendencies. Bit of a bad combination, wouldn't you say? In fact, he's been revelling in watching the whole Sean vs Egos fiasco. Because sure, he could blame a lot of things on Anti if he wanted. But the mistrust that began with Jack then seeped into the others via the original ego? Sean's doing. The one who used his powers of creation when, even to this day, he doesn't quite understand how on earth they worked? Sean. Best yet, letting his emotions cause him to put a loved one in a coma he had no clue how to reverse? Once again, courtesy of Sean McLoughlin. Sean brushes these comments off. He's been called out too many times to be that easily affected by it. Besides, he had some things on his own mind that needed saying. Where were Stacy and the kids? Oh, in a ditch. They served no use without Chase's conscience there to haunt. Actually, where had Anti himself been during all these years? Here, there, everywhere. Why stay in one spot when he thrived on being near impossible to pin down. Any question Sean has, Anti's answers are delivered nonchalantly. Right. That's how Anti wants to play it, huh? He creates another piece of footage. This time, he dresses as Chase and speaks on the phone. 'Chase' begs Stacy to take the kids, stay hidden and only contact him when she really needs to. Once Sean posts it (privately of course), the real Chase updates him on the recent developments in his life. He'd gotten a text from Stacy saying they were safe for now. He had only managed to compose himself before leaving the house but ah look, there go the waterworks again. Sean apologises as he makes it abundantly clear that Chase would not be able to see his family for a while. It was for their safety. Chase understood, right? Yes, yes of course. For good measure, he also talks to Henrik. His wife and children weren't in as imminent danger of becoming Anti's targets right now. However, there was no harm in staying vigilant. It was up to the doctor but Sean thought it would be for the best if they maintained a low profile for now. Sean discusses another video with Chase in October. The father is reluctant to have more of his story explored, especially if things are going to play out the way Sean had planned. That's fine, he assures. That was exactly why he wanted Chase to be part of the process. Besides, it may seem a little bleak right now but his fortunes would improve as soon as the ball started rolling. When it comes to filming the short video, Chase kills it. The community may be praising Sean but he makes sure Chase is aware of the love he had earned. He decides to allow Jameson another solo video for his birthday. They brainstorm together, coming up with the premise of a puppet show. Jameson is the one who comes up with the 'I can't be questioned, I'm rich!' joke. As soon as he does, he goes off on a tangent about how he used to know people like that. Hell, his own parents had been like that. Sean laughs along with him. The first sight of trouble is the random bit of string around his arm. Jameson naively removes it without becoming suspicious. Sean's been in this position before. If the video's up, it's already way too late for the targeted ego. He forces himself to watch to the end. Jameson's wrapping up the story when the strings reappear. His arms go limp before he begins swaying on the spot. It is clearly Anti who is controlling his movements now. Sean really wishes he didn't know the sign for 'help'. He bets Jameson believes he has the power to save him. If only he did. The worst part of it is having to witness Jameson clearly attempting to fight against it. If Sean thought Henrik's distress during Kill Jacksepticeye had been a challenge to watch, he had another thing coming. Goddamn it. Can he please go one year without losing more of those he cared about? He'd once been friends with Angus before the fading fiasco caused them to drift apart. Jack kept giving second chance after second chance until Sean had let his frustration screw that up. Chase had gradually begun to see him as potentially trustworthy, only for Anti to kidnap him and set them back to square one. Is it too much to ask for them to feel happy and safe as well as remaining so? His 30th birthday is quiet. There are no egos hassling him or attempts to initiate a bout of insomnia. It's a nice day chilling out with Evelein and BB. He would have enjoyed it even more if he knew he'd achieved his goal of waking Jack up by now. Or even getting Jameson back. The last person he expects to see coming round to his house is Marvin. He doesn't think the magician is entirely sure why he chose to do this either. He states that he gave his word when he said he'd never forgive Sean. With his fae heritage, that meant something and he couldn't go back on that. Marvin seemed offended when Sean shows surprise upon learning he had connection to fae. Well, how exactly was Sean supposed to know this detail if Marvin's been keeping him far away for 2.5 years, especially since they hadn't been best buddies pre-coma either? The magician scowls before returning to a calmer neutral demeanour. He carries on his point. Marvin may not be able to forgive Sean for what he's done, not that he really has a reason to given what was still happening to the egos. That said, he wasn't going to judge his friends as harshly anymore if they decided to give their creator a chance. That uh... shit, that was huge coming from Marvin. All he can reply with is a thank you. August rears it's terrible head. It's been three years now. 36 whole months, god knows how many weeks or individual days. He's had all this time to fix this yet is still working on it. And oh, sure, he can rationalise it. He can remind himself that during 2018, if he wasn't on tour then he was preparing for a leg or decompressing after one. Not to mention that had also been the year he'd finally started addressing his mental health. Now, the biggest thing preventing him from progressing the story to the point where Jack woke up was the virus. For half the year, he couldn't film anything that required a crew, let alone do so on location in America or wherever like he had with CHASE. Instead, he sits at the end of the bed as usual. Legs to his chest, he simply lets himself be here. Henrik is going to kill him for the way he is seated. He rambles at Jack, updating him on recent goings on. When he's said his bit, he becomes contemplative for a moment. "I'm still trying, I swear. You're going to wake up one day. I'm just- I'm doing my best to get everything sorted. I promise you can call my ass out eventually. I will get there. Anyway, I'm sure you have better things to be doing than listening to me mope about like I have been for the past three years. See you around, buddy."

[yellowcanna]

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Available on AO3!!

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CHAPTER 14

STRAYS (NIGHT 3: TUESDAY)

This story has been beta'd by Momentary_Flight, Nanami_ontheShore, Shady Spades

Dazai sat comfortably in his seat as he looked towards the stage, his eye meeting a pair of sky blue ones. Bathed within the red light, nobody noticed the faint trail of a crimson glow slowly disappearing from the singer’s body.

Chuuya was smiling at the crowds and even talked to some of the audience that ran too close to the stage despite the line of waiters holding them back. Somewhere in the back, someone even threw him a can of beer, which he caught with ease before waving in that direction.

The man down there was like a star shining brilliantly in the night sky.

Yet only Dazai knew that, right now, every movement Chuuya made was carefully calculated. No matter how he stood or where he was seemingly looking towards, he made sure that Dazai was well within his sight. Despite how relaxed he may look, there was no question that the Executive would spring into action the second danger towards his boss was detected.

Chuuya walked off the stage, tossing the microphone to Tachihara who took his place.

The music picked up again, pulling the crowd's attention away from Chuuya as the redhead made his way back into the VIP section.

As soon as Chuuya returned, Dazai dismissed the guards around him, leaving the space for only the two of them.

The brunet patted his knees, but the redhead stopped right in front of him with his arms crossed.

“What’s wrong, Chuuya?” Dazai blinked his large, chocolate brown eye at his lover expectantly. “You were so docile before!”

“You want to see how docile I am?” Chuuya gritted, cracking his knuckles to loosen his joints.

“You never know who might be watching, we need to keep the act up!”

“There’s no one watching,” Chuuya retorted.

“They could from that giant hole in the wall.”

“You mean that?” Chuuya huffed proudly as he gestured towards the wall he had thrown the League of Villains through. The hole was already filled up by broken pieces of bricks, smashed together and squeezed into the hole until not even the smallest gap could be found.

“Uwaah…” Dazai made a disgusted face. “I bet interior designers all over the world are crying in joy that Chuuya didn’t become a construction worker.”

“Hah?!” Chuuya felt a vein on his forehead throb. It was a miracle his veins haven't popped yet. "I'd like to see you do better, you shitty—mmh!”

While the Executive was distracted, Dazai reached up, a nimble finger hooking onto the silver ring on the redhead’s choker, and pulled him down. Chuuya stumbled as he fell over Dazai, but he swiftly put a knee between his boss’s legs and a hand on each side of the brunet’s head to stop them from colliding.

Chuuya moaned into a pair of lips that smothered against his, with a wet tongue slipping into his mouth without any warning. Rough, calloused hands caressed his hips before they slipped under his tank top to feel his abs.

The redhead shivered at the touch before pulling away.

Dazai didn’t stop him. He just sighed in disappointment and licked his lips that were moist from the shorter man’s saliva.

“You know, Chuuya.” He looked up to the redhead who was fixing his clothes despite how it didn’t matter since they were in a club and the other wasn’t in his usual suit. “Maybe I should demote you and have you become my personal dog. That way, I can have you on my lap day and night.”

“I would like to ask the boss to please reconsider, as the Port Mafia cannot afford to lose a valuable asset such as Chuuya-sama.”

The boss and his right-hand man turned to see an elderly man making his way up the stairs.

“Ah, Hirotsu-san,” Dazai greeted cheerfully, “did you enjoy your vacation?”

“It was quite eventful.” Hirotsu bowed to his boss before turning to Chuuya. “Your performance tonight was spectacular, Chuuya-sama.”

"At least someone appreciates my effort," Chuuya moved to stand by his boss's side. 

“Well then, tell me about your reports, Hirotsu,” the Port Mafia boss said as he got comfortable in his chair.

Hirotsu reached into his coat and pulled out a large yellow envelope. Chuuya stepped forward to take it before passing it to his boss.

The first thing the two of them saw when Dazai pulled out the papers was the picture stapled on the first page. She was a young girl about the age of six or seven with bluish silver hair, crimson eyes, and a horn on the right side of her forehead.

“I have confirmed that the Shie Hassaikai is indeed creating a drug capable of destroying Quirks. The drug is created using the flesh of Chisaki Kai’s adoptive daughter, Eri.”

“Flesh?” Chuuya raised a brow. “So it’s a Quirk?”

“Yes. The girl’s Quirk is to rewind the time of living beings.”

"Which means with proper adjustments her Quirk can directly attack the virus within the host's bloodstream and completely erase the virus from the body without damaging the body itself," Dazai hummed as he flipped through the documents.

“It is quite similar to the vaccine first created when Quirk began to appear,” Hirotsu nodded.

“But now, those vaccines will only kill them,” Chuuya pointed out. “Since the second generation, the bodies of those outsiders started to merge with the virus and now it is part of their genetics. There's no way of reversing that process without killing them.”

“Yet this girl can rewind the time of the genetic structure of the body to separate the virus without taking their life.” Dazai smiled before his eye snapped to Hirotsu. “How far along is the development of this drug?”

“I would say at eighty percent," Hirotsu replied. “The current drug created by Shie Hassaikai can only temporarily remove a host’s Quirk for six to seven hours.”

“And?” Dazai tossed the documents onto the table. “Surely you’ve brought me the finished product.”

Hirotsu bowed before setting a black briefcase onto the table. He unlocked the case with a finger scanner then swiftly keyed in the passwords.

The case unlocked with a light click.

Spinning the briefcase around, Hirotsu laid it down and opened it to reveal five syringes. Each syringe was within a vacuum-sealed bag and filled with crimson fluid.

“During my infiltration, I had taken some of the incomplete drugs as well as some samples from the girl and brought it to the laboratory yesterday evening. These are the completed versions that the lab has created.”

“So they only needed one day to finish what Shie Hassaikai had been trying for years,” Chuuya snorted. Organized crime in the outside world is getting worse and worse as the years go by. It was also stupid of the Shie Hassaikai to sell the drug when it was still incomplete. Did they think they wouldn't catch unwanted attention? Or were they that confident in thinking they were the only ones capable of creating the drug just because they had the material?

Dazai reached forward and took out one of the syringes. He squinted his eyes to get a closer look at the drug inside. While the colour was the same as blood, the density was closer to water’s.

“Have these been tested on Ability users?”

"No," Hirotsu replied. “According to the head scientist, this drug only targets the body's DNA which the viruses reside in.”

“That I’m sure.” The brunet agreed as he put the syringe back into the case. “But nevertheless, we can never be too careful. Give these to Ryuunosuke-kun and have him test it out on Ability users. If by some miracle it does have the power to destroy Ability…”

Dazai’s eye narrowed, losing the warm light it held before and took a colder, crueler quality.

“Kill the girl and burn the Shie Hassaikai to the ground.”

“Yes, boss.” Hirotsu bowed. Recognizing his boss’s dismissal, he took his briefcase and headed off to complete the first task he was assigned since returning to work.

Chuuya watched Hirotsu leave before looking over to Dazai who was lazily flipping through the documents scattered on the table while humming a light tune.

“You seem pretty happy,” the redhead noted.

“Can you blame me?” Dazai grinned at his right-hand man. “It’s been a while since someone dared to blatantly scheme in front of me like that, especially when the schemer is as easy to read as an open book. I can’t help but play along~”

“Play along?” Chuuya narrowed his eyes, not believing a single word that came out of his boss’s mouth. “You mean manipulating them to play along with your shit? And don’t fucking tell me that making me sing on stage every Tuesday for the past three months was just for this!”

“How could you accuse me of that, Chuuya!” Dazai gasped with his hands flying over his heart. “I truly enjoyed watching you sing every night. Chuuya’s like a shining star on stage!”

Another vein popped out from Chuuya’s forehead. As much as he wanted to slam his fist into this man’s gut right here and now, he knew he couldn’t. They were in public, they had an image to keep up.

“So? What’s with those kids?” Chuuya snapped, changing the subject.

“Chuuya, even if they have eighth-grader syndrome with dreams of destroying the world, calling them kids is a bit—”

“I’m talking about those Hero kids,” Chuuya corrected. “The ones from U.A. You purposely led them here at this time and knew I would have no choice but to let them out the backdoor.”

“I did promise their principal to show them around Yokohama," Dazai smirked. “What kind of guide would I be if I didn’t let them enjoy Yokohama to the fullest?”

Chuuya snorted at the poor excuse. He didn’t care that Dazai didn't answer his question, as he already has a clue as to what that was about. After all, that person was doing his mission nearby. Although the chances of them accidentally running into one another were slim, if a certain scheming bastard manipulated this…

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

Seven Months Ago—Port Mafia Headquarters

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  BOOOOOOOOOOM

The sounds of explosions resonated through the air, shaking the entire building as dark smoke stretched towards the night sky.

“Fire! Shoot it down!”  

“The barrier’s been damaged!”

“What are they doing?! Why isn’t the barrier restored yet?!”

“The system’s been jammed! We can’t operate it!”

"Another one's coming!"

"GET DOWN!!"

Within the darkness, a missile flew down from the sky, slicing through the wind as it aimed towards one of the five Port Mafia buildings. The missile slipped through the hole in the barrier the first missile had created, slamming into the side of the building as crimson flames erupted, followed by the sound of explosion.

Alarms echoed across the halls as sprinklers were immediately activated to put out the flames.

Men and women ran towards where the explosion had occurred to help put out the fire.

A man cloaked in black rushed down the hallway, his body almost becoming a blur as he flew down the stairs and arrived at the floors that had suffered the most from the explosion.

“Senpai!” a blond-haired woman gasped as she did her best to catch up to her superior. “Senpai! It’s too dangerous, please head back!” she shouted after him, but the man did not listen to her words.

The explosion had annihilated the hallways of three floors, but that wasn’t important at all. What’s important was the room at the end of the middle hallway.

He ran into the fire, one hand holding a cloth over his nose and mouth to protect his lungs from the heavy smoke. When he arrived at the room, his eyes flew wide at the metallic door that had been completely blasted off its hinge, distorted and leaning against the corner.

His cloak fluttered around him as he walked into the room. Silver eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings. Aside from one side of the wall completely blasted away by the explosion, the remainder of the room was pretty much undamaged.

The man looked over to the bed, then to the collection of large stuffed animal toys. Activating his Ability, black tendrils shot out of his coat, stabbing into the bed, toys, and closets—tearing everything apart.

The blond woman finally caught up, panting heavily as she walked into the room. She wasn’t given the time to take in what the room looked like before her eyes shifted to the missing wall where the outside world was visible to her eyes.

“Senpai!” She cried as the man whirled around, looking up to the sky where a giant whale was swimming beneath the sea of stars.

They were only able to see the barrier around the headquarters materialize for a split second before multiple explosions blasted over the surface of the barrier. For a minute straight, the barrier was engulfed in flames, casting crimson light upon those inside the building.

Everyone shielded their eyes as the barrier protected the building from being touched by the scorching flames. When the flames finally disappeared, all that was left was the crumbling pieces of the barrier. When the raven-haired man looked back up to the sky, the whale was gone.

“So this was what they were after.” The man gritted his teeth as he stormed out of the room, stepping over a framed TV in the process, completely shattering the screen under the pressure of his foot. “Higuchi, send out an order. They couldn’t have gotten far with Q. Send out all men to find Q and kill them on sight.”

“Yes!” The woman hurriedly did as she was told. She tapped onto the Bluetooth in her right ear and commanded, “Abandon all battle stations! Q has been captured by the Guild! All personnel are to find Q and kill on sight!!”

From another building identical to the one that had suffered from the bombing, a man in a black suit and a red scarf stared at the bright flames lighting up the night.

“Boss, please step away from the window! The barrier is gone, it’s dangerous!” the men around him fretted, but the brunet just waved them off.

“It’s fine. They can’t see anything from the outside.”

“But—” The men looked like they wanted to argue, but a sharp glare from their boss silenced them as they remembered their place.

“Boss.”

“Ah, ane-san.” Dazai smiled when he saw Kouyou speed walking over to him. The men surrounding him backed away, making room for their Executive.

“Where’s Chuuya?” She furrowed her brows, instantly noticing the lack of a petite redhead. Ever since Chuuya had become Dazai’s right-hand man, the two were barely ever seen being apart.

“Chuuya is checking on the barrier," Dazai replied. “Do you need something, ane-san?”

"The Guild has Q," Kouyou informed her boss with a grave look on her face. “Please follow me into the safe room until the situation is dealt with.”

“Ah-ah~” Dazai sighed, but obediently followed Kouyou down the hall with men surrounding the two as protection. “I leave the headquarters’ defense to Ryuunosuke-kun and this is the result. Looks like he’ll need some more discipline once the Guild’s been dealt with.”

“The missiles accurately targeted the room Q was confined in,” Kouyou frowned, not as easy going as her boss. “I’m afraid we may have a traitor amongst us.”

“Hm…” Dazai hummed, “There’s no need to worry, ane-san. I’m sure everything will work out.”

Kouyou glanced over her shoulder to her boss. Questions were swirling in her eyes, but the Executive kept her silence and continued leading the way. 

It was only after they began descending the spiral of stairs that she spoke again.

"The Guild has crossed the line by directly attacking us," Kouyou said as they arrived at the lowest floor. She waved off the men around them and led Dazai down a long hallway. “Do you still refuse to let us step in?”

“I told you, ane-san. Taking down the Guild is Atsushi-kun and Ryuunosuke-kun’s job,” Dazai said, stopping in front of a door. The two guards standing by the door bowed at his presence as Dazai’s fingers danced swiftly across the number pad.

After scanning his palm, the doors opened, one layer after another. The moment Dazai stepped inside, the doors slammed shut, clicking sounds echoing in the air as the locks were being put back into place.

Dazai strolled into the simple underground chamber. The most elaborate thing here was the bed and chandelier. He leaned over a handrail, humming as he gazed up at the chandelier hanging directly above his large bed. He should find some time to replace that obnoxious thing.

Dazai blinked, seeming slightly surprised before he stifled a small laugh.

“Four years ago, the first thing that would have come across my mind would be how perfect it is for hanging.” Dazai snorted at his own change as he walked to his bed and plopped onto the king-size mattress. Or perhaps he could sabotage the chandelier and have it fall on him while having a peaceful sleep.

“If you want to die that badly, I can come and finish you off,” a sarcastic voice came from the black Bluetooth in the Port Mafia boss’s ear. “How does the curb sound to you, shitty boss?”

“And leave Chuuya to become a widow?” Dazai smirked as he folded his hands behind his head. “I trust that you haven’t been caught?”

“Who the hell do you think I am?”

In the other building, a short man in a black suit and fedora kicked down the iron door. He emerged from his hiding spot with his hands tucked in his pockets. Despite the entire place being charred and dusty, there wasn’t a speck of dirt on his body.

“As if I’d get caught by that apprentice of yours,” Nahakara Chuuya snorted as he walked into the room that looked as if a beast had been rampaging in it. Everything that could hide a person had been violently torn apart and thrown onto the ground.

“Looks like I wasn’t needed,” he said, kicking away a small piece of cement by his feet. “But to think those bastards broke through the walls with just two missiles…!”

Chuuya clicked his teeth. Even if this was planned by Dazai, he didn’t like it one bit. The outer layer of the building was specially made to withstand at least sixty consecutive missiles! And for the protection barrier around the headquarters to be so easily blasted apart was another issue.

“It’s not surprising that their weapons are more advanced than ours. They don’t have a city like Yokohama to protect them in America, so the developments of their technologies are solely focused on weapons,” Dazai hummed, “Though they were still discovered and hunted for human experimentation.”

Chuuya frowned at that. He has heard of too many similar stories in the outside world.

Despite the seemingly peaceful relationship they have with Japan, the rest of the world treated Old Humans very differently. For one, the knowledge of Old Humans isn’t known to the whole world. Their existence had always been top secret in Japan and kept from the rest of the world. It’s only in the last century that it was no longer a state secret.

As society became more and more stable, there were always curious eyes turned towards the mysterious city. So occasionally, Yokohama would invite a selected few inside, allowing only one to walk back out and deliver information.

This was the only way to get those nosy governments to get rid of any weird ideas about Yokohama—like reclaiming it for example. By showing Yokohama as a threat, the Japanese government wouldn’t move recklessly, especially when they still have the issue of Villains. They couldn’t afford to create another enemy, and as long as they are left alone, Yokohama has no intention of waging war against them.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for other countries. Without a base to protect them, once discovered, Old Humans will easily be captured. Abilities are extremely rare and even if they were powerful, they cannot fight while protecting a whole community.

“If that’s the case, then won’t they blast the entire city to the ground?”

“They won’t,” Dazai replied with certainty, “Even if their technology in weaponry is a tad higher than ours, Fitzgerald isn’t stupid enough to think we won’t have a countermeasure against large scale attacks. And even if he is, he knows he won’t find what he’s looking for if the entire city is gone.”

Chuuya walked over to the open wall. He leaned forward, poking his head out a little so he could see the state of things below. Blue eyes sharply trailed over each man and their positions before the redhead leaned back and glanced to a torn blanket lying on the ground not far away.

“So who were the ones that took Q?” Dazai asked cheerfully. Chuuya was sure the other knew already, but responded anyway.

“It’s the two that engaged with that other apprentice of yours,” Chuuya said as he took out a small booklet from his pocket and flipped through the pages. “John Steinbeck and Howard Phillips Lovecraft. So far, we still can’t figure out what Ability the second guy has.”

“Then perhaps it’s not an Ability at all.”

“You mean he’s a Quirk user?” Chuuya didn’t believe it. After all, if that man was a Quirk user, he wouldn’t have slipped through the barrier.

“It doesn’t matter.” The redhead could hear the smirk behind his boss’s lips. “After tonight, they won’t be relevant.”

Chuuya didn’t ask what that meant as he picked up the cotton blanket and headed back towards the edge. Crimson light coated his body as Chuuya activated his Ability. With a stomp of his feet, the floor beneath his feet caved in. Chuuya threw the blanket around his body as he fell towards the ground.

The sight of the baby blue blanket falling attracted the attention of the men stationed nearby. They raised their guns and circled the blanket that had a bulge in the middle. One of the men stepped forward, gripping the corner of the blanket and ripping it away only to find that it was a piece of concrete.

To be sure, the men searched around the area. After making sure there wasn't anything suspicious, they returned to their posts.

Perched on a nearby tree, a certain Executive watched the sight with narrowed eyes.

“Bunch of morons. I’ll deal with them after this is over,” he muttered darkly before he turned and darted off. He easily made it across the street, undetected by the Port Mafia underlings that were on watch.

The more of them he successfully evaded, the more the redhead felt his blood boil. It seemed their training had been too lax. He'll need to have a long talk with Kouyou about creating a new program after this entire mess got cleaned up.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a quick scan of his fingerprint, the phone lit up with a map on the screen. Chuuya stared at the blinking red dot that was rapidly approaching. He looked towards that direction just in time to catch a blur of white darting across the street before it was gone.

“Dazai.”

“Yes, love?” Dazai’s voice whispered gently into his ear.

“If this plan of yours doesn’t work, I will kill Q.”

“Of course.”

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

Present

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 “Who are you?” the child asked as mismatched eyes looked at the group of twenty people standing there.

They were all stunned at the sight of such a young girl—or perhaps a boy? Either way, this didn’t seem to be a place where they would find a child.

They automatically looked around, hoping to find the kid’s parents, but couldn’t see another soul in sight.

“We’re just some people who are a bit lost,” Uraraka laughed as she crouched down to get to the child’s height. “What about you? Where’s your mom and dad?”

“Mom and dad?” the child hummed, needing to take some time to think over that question before smiling back at them. “I don’t have one.”

“E-eh?” Uraraka��s jaw dropped. This was an answer neither she nor her classmates had expected. She frantically waved her hands as guilt consumed her. “I’m so sorry! I-I had no idea!”

"Sorry?" the child tested the word as if it was something foreign to them. "Why?"

Uraraka blinked as her hands stopped in midair.

Why? Why what?

However, she couldn’t ask that, as she had already stepped on a landmine. Fortunately, Asui came up to save her.

“Do you have anyone looking after you?” she questioned with a finger to her lips.

“I do!” the child chirped brightly, but then saddened as they slowly swung their legs back and forth. “But I got lost…”

“Do you know their phone number?” Iida asked, already pulling out his phone, “I’ll call them for you.”

“I don’t know...” the child replied, looking unconcerned over not remembering their guardian’s contact number. “But it’s fine! He’ll find me. He always does!”

Everyone exchanged looks. They were all skeptical about this. During their way to the bar, the latter half of their trip was void of any people. No matter how they looked at it, this area was filled with factories and warehouses. Why in the world was there a child so young here all alone in the middle of the night?

Didn’t anyone know how dangerous it was?

"Maybe his dad brought him to the bar or something and forgot about him," Mineta whispered, only to be stabbed in the eyeball by an earphone jack.

"Let's wait around for a bit," Midoriya suggested. “Maybe his guardian is looking around for him.”

"Ah…there goes our curfew time," Kaminari whined jokingly. He understood that finding this kid's guardian takes priority over everything else. He looked around the empty street, “What if they never show up?”

"We can always call the police afterward," Tokoyami stated.

Midoriya walked up to the child and knelt in front of them with the friendliest smile he could muster. "My name is Midoriya Izuku, what’s your name?”

“I’m Kyuusaku!” the kid replied. Those symbol-carrying eyes looked Midoriya up and down, scanning over his body before the kid brightened even more. “You’re the one that broke your arms and legs!”

Arms and legs?

Midoriya recalled the foreigner he met when he was handing out the flyers earlier today. “You watched the Sports Festival?”

Everyone was surprised, but then remembered that the people here had access to the outside channels.

“So you watch the Sports Festival!” Kaminari laughed as he crouched down in front of the kid and pointed at himself. “Then do you remember me?”

Kyuusaku shook his head, still smiling so brightly that Kaminari didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“….Don’t mind," Asui patted his shoulder.

"Did you enjoy the Sports festival?" Jirou asked.

Kyuusaku nodded, “It looked really fun! I wish I could play too…”

“Oh! Do you wish to become a Hero in the future?” Iida asked excitedly.

“Hero?” Kyuusaku blinked. They stared at Iida with wide eyes before the child suddenly burst out into laughter, as if Iida had spoken the most hilarious joke they’ve ever heard. “No way!”

Everyone just stared at the child in confusion, then to each other. None of them were able to understand the joke.

“Big brother, do you like Stain?” Kyuusaku asked, mismatched eyes locking onto Iida.

Everyone froze at the name none of them had expected to hear coming out of this kid's mouth. They automatically looked towards Iida, whose face had darkened at the memories of the Villain flickering through his mind.

“Of course we don’t like Stain!” Sero exclaimed, drawing the kid’s attention to him. “He’s a bad guy!”

“Bad guy?” Kyuusaku tilted their head cutely. “Why?”

“Because he does bad things," Sato explained.

“Like what?” the kid pushed on, not noticing the discomfort the teenagers were feeling. There was only pure curiosity on the child’s face.

“Well, like—” Kirishima swiftly caught himself and stopped talking. He couldn’t possibly talk about killing in front of a kid, but even without the redhead saying it out loud, the child already knew the answer.

Kyuusaku smiled at the redhead and finished the words for him. “Like killing?”

Everyone stared at the child who had spoken of killing with such a happy expression.

"Yes…like killing," Yaoyorozu said slowly, eyes darting to her classmates.

“But don’t Heroes kill people too?” Kyuusaku then asked.

“Of course not! Heroes don’t kill people!” Midoriya defended.

At that, Kyuusaku looked genuinely confused as they turned to Midoriya. “So when Heroes fight Villains, they hold back their strength?”

“Well, no—”

“So you don’t hold back?” the boy asked, not even bothering to wait for Sato to finish.

"When Heroes fight, we use our strength to save people," Iida told the boy. "It's not about holding back or not."

“So you fight with all your strength?” Kyuusaku giggled. “Then how do you know you won’t kill the bad people?”

Some of the students opened their mouths but found that they couldn't answer the question.

"I saw a bad person die on TV. He died when fighting Heroes." Kyuusaku told them, still smiling.

“That’s not killing,” Todoroki tried to explain.

“But someone died?”

"Yes, but those are accidents," Shouji told the boy. “It couldn’t be helped. In a fight against Villains, there are always innocent bystanders getting caught in between. A Hero’s job is to—”

“But killing is killing,” the kid stated. “No matter what reason it is, you still killed someone.”

“Kyuusaku-chan…do you like Stain?” Yaoyorozu couldn't help but ask. The child's thought process was so…well, weird. How could a child talk about killing so easily? No, it’s because they’re a child that they didn’t understand the gravity of what their words meant. Considering the amount of influence the Hero Killer brought, Yaoyorozu wouldn't be surprised if Kyuusaku, much like many others in Japan, could understand Stain’s motive.

She wasn’t the only one thinking this way. Everyone else was expecting the kid to answer yes, given the conversation they just had. But to everyone’s surprise, the warm smile on Kyuusaku’s face dropped for the first time. On that kid’s face was an expression of pure confusion as those large eyes blinked up at them.

"No," Kyuusaku answered, as if it should be obvious. “He’s just a murderer that needed excuses to kill people. Why would I like him?”

Kyuusaku’s voice and tone were purely innocent. There was no mockery, no laughter…nothing. The child’s voice only held confusion over why they even asked that.

Everyone was taken back by the child’s response. Never had they heard anyone describe Stain like that. When Stain’s name first came around, the only things discussed were his actions and the current state of Heroes. There had been many debates over whether or not Stain’s actions were right, but so blatantly calling Stain a murderer was…something else.

“Kyuusaku-chan, what do you mean by that?” Asui asked with a frown on her lips.

“Isn’t it true though?” Kyuusaku jumped down from the bench and landed onto their feet. A bright smile lifted the corner of their lips. “He just wants to kill, yet he justified his actions by making a grand excuse. Isn’t that funny?”

“Justified…?” Midoriya stared at Kyuusaku. What is this kid even talking about?

The rest of the class wasn’t doing any better. They stared at the kid strangely as if they couldn’t understand the words coming from the kid’s mouth. This was no longer weird—it wasn’t normal.

“Hey, let’s play a game!” Kyuusaku suddenly changed the topic as they walked up to the U.A students. “I haven’t played a game in a long time! Won’t you play with me?”

Midoriya opened and closed his mouth. He was still trying to wrap his head around what this child had just said.

“S-sure, what do you want to play?” Hagakure hurriedly asked when the silence dragged on for a bit too long.

Everyone was now looking at the child weirdly. There was something not right with this kid. Despite that, none of them saw Kyuusaku as a threat. What they were beginning to worry about was this child’s environment.

Just what kind of environment gave the child such a skewed viewpoint? Kyuusaku did say they don’t have parents, but what about the guardian? Was this child perhaps neglected?

Many of them were already compensating on whether or not to call the police, but then Kyuusaku spoke.

“Let’s play tag!”

“Oh! Tag! That’s a great game!” Sero laughed, trying to brighten the weird tension in the air. “I’m super good at tag!”

“We can play in that park!” Ashido said, pointing to the park right next to them. Even if there weren’t any cars around, playing on the street was still dangerous.

“Alright! Who will be it?” Kaminari asked as he looked around.

“What’s an it?” Kyuusaku suddenly asked, causing everyone to look at the child in surprise.

“Kyuusaku-chan, have you not played tag before?” Asui asked carefully.

The young child shook their head, “I’ve only seen other people play it.”

“…I haven’t either.” Todoroki suddenly spoke up, frowning as he looked at the child.

Everyone stared between Todoroki and Kyuusaku while Midoriya’s eyes widened.

He looked over to the young kid. Could it be that this child had a similar childhood to Todoroki? No, rather than saying it's similar, it's more like…

“The it is the person that catches the other people," Ojiro explained as he walked up to crouch by the child. "They catch people by tapping them. If you get tagged by the it, you’re out.”

“What happens when you’re out?” Kyuusaku asked.

“Then you have to sit and wait until the it catches everyone. After that, the game restarts.” Tokoyami finished the explanation.

“Then I want to be it!” Kyuusaku said happily before reaching their hand out and tapping Ojiro on the shoulder. “You’re out!”

No one bothered to correct the child on how they should be given time to run. The moment Kyuusaku announced this, everyone ran off, squealing and giggling like little kids. Ojiro just laughed as he scratched his cheek, not minding how quickly he got thrown out of the game.

“Do I have to run after them?” Kyuusaku blinked as they watched the older kids run away.

“Yes, if you want to catch them?” Ojiro replied unsurely. "You don't like to run?"

"No, it's just running hurts," Kyuusaku replied. They didn’t sound sad or anything…just stating a fact.

Ojiro’s eyes automatically dropped to the child’s legs. Since the kid was wearing shorts, he was able to get a good look at slender legs lacking any form of muscle. Aside from the kid being a little thin, there didn't seem to be anything wrong. Maybe they sprained their ankle? Was that why they were sitting on a bench?

Believing that he had found the answer, Ojiro turned to his classmates who were scattered on the grass. They hadn’t gone far and were all waiting for the child to begin chasing them.

“Come on, Kyuusaku-chan!” Uraraka called as she waved her hand at them.

“Guys!” Ojiro called, successfully grabbing their attention.

“What’s wrong, man?” Kirishima asked, about to walk up when he stepped on a tiny twig lying in the grass.

Snap

“…!”

Ojiro heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He turned and saw Kyuusaku standing there, trembling with wide eyes locked on Kirishima. Those irises were dilated and unsteady…there were even droplets of sweats rolling down the kid’s face despite how chilly the night was.

Those small hands were gripping onto his doll so tightly that they were shaking and white around the knuckles.

“Kyuusaku…?” Ojiro called out gently, but the kid didn’t even seem to have heard him. Their breathing was growing faster and faster. The time between each breath was also getting dangerously short, to the point where Ojiro thought they might hyperventilate.

The other kids noticed this as well and they all began to run over. Their footsteps thundered across the grass and somewhere amongst those footsteps, another twig snapped, causing the boy to completely freeze in place, his breathing stopped altogether.

“Kyuusaku?” Ojiro reached out both hands and grabbed the child’s forearms, hoping to snap the kid out of whatever shock they were in. The moment his hands made contact, he felt something very wrong. There were multiple hard objects under his palms sinking into the kid’s arms from the pressure of his grip.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!”

Kyuusaku suddenly let out an ear-piercing scream, pushing Ojiro away and stumbled back, clutching onto the doll even tighter.

“NOOO!!!” They shrieked, voice cracking as pale fingers sank into the fabric of the doll, pulling on the surface of the fabric so hard that some of the white stuffing was being squeezed out. “NO! NO! NOOOO!!!”

“Kyuusaku-chan?!” Yaoyorozu wanted to approach, but was afraid she might agitate the child even more.

“What’s wrong?” Midoriya spoke loudly, hoping his voice could be heard through the child’s screams.

“IT’s aLL YouR fAuLt!!” Kyuusaku screamed, face morphing into what could only be described as pure malice. The doll trapped in his grip was beginning to move, but no one noticed as their eyes were all locked on the child’s face.

“I’LL cUrsE yOU! I’ll CURSE—!!”

“Q!!”

A voice bellowed from the distance, causing Kyuusaku to freeze up.

For a long moment, nobody could move. They all stared at Kyuusaku with cold sweat rolling down their faces.

What…what was that?

What exactly was that?

The sound of footsteps slowly brought the students back. One by one, they turned around to see a person emerging from the dark alleyway. He was covered in a long, black leather coat with white fur around the base of his collar.

Silvery white hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as the person slowly stepped into the light. They couldn’t see much of his face, as half of it was covered by his coat’s tall collar, but the way those golden eyes seemed to glow in the dim streetlight was unnerving.

He looked young… not much older than Class 1-A.

“A…Atsushi!” Kyuusaku seemed terrified as they clenched onto the old doll.

"What were you going to do, Q?" the white-haired boy questioned.

“I-I wasn’t doing anything!” Kyuusaku gasped, sounding desperate as they ran up to the young man. They reached out a small hand and gripped onto his black coat. “I wasn’t, so—”

When those golden eyes narrowed, Kyuusaku swallowed down the rest of the words. They clutched the doll tighter to their chest and spoke in a desperate voice.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again! So…don’t leave me!”

The white-haired boy’s gaze softened a little before shifting to the students.

“Thank you for taking care of this child. I apologize for the trouble,” he said, nodding in their direction before turning to leave.

“Wait!”

Upon being called, the man stopped and turned around. His golden eyes met with Midoriya’s green ones.

“Are you…” Midoriya hesitated, eyes darting down to Kyuusaku then back to the stranger. “Kyuusaku’s guardian?”

“I am,” the other replied naturally. That didn’t seem to be a lie…and from how Kyuusaku interacted with this man, he was most likely the child’s guardian. However, it was precisely because of this that Midoriya needed to stop them.

"Do you have any identification to prove that you're that child's guardian?" Iida asked, looking at the man with a face full of distrust.

No matter how they looked at it, that interaction just now wasn’t normal. It wasn’t a conversation any ordinary kid would have with their guardian. Kyuusaku was terrified of this man, yet the way they still begged not to be thrown aside was raising red flags in all of their heads.

The images of Kyuusaku’s crazed look were still fresh in their minds, but that only fueled their desire and need to protect this young child. Anyone could tell by now that the kid’s mental stability wasn’t, well, stable. The cause may very well be this person right there.

 “Proof?” The man raised a fine brow as those golden eyes shifted to Iida. The moment their eyes met, Iida felt a droplet of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. He didn’t know why, but something wasn’t right with this person.

“…There is no need for me to prove anything to you,” the white-haired boy said calmly. He turned again and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Kirishima called, but the other didn’t stop. He just kept on walking with Kyuusaku by his side.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!” Bakugou roared. He knew he needed to stop them. Something wasn’t right about that guy. He couldn’t let him take the kid. “We’re not done speaking!”

“Don’t yell at Atsushi!” Kyuusaku suddenly spun around and shouted. Those eyes were glaring murderously at Bakugou who stopped in his tracks.

Bakugou was stunned. He couldn’t understand why the kid would defend this man who terrified them like that.

“Q, we’re leaving,” the boy known as Atsushi called. He didn’t look back and continued to walk away, not caring about the group of teenagers behind him.

Kyuusaku ran back to his side, one hand gripping onto the older boy’s jacket as they walked down the abandoned street. From the shadow of the alleyway Atsushi had emerged from, a dagger soundlessly slid back into its sheath as a figure slowly stepped back and vanished into the darkness.

Class 1-A could only watch as the young man and the child disappeared from their sight. None of them were able to stop them.

“We…we have to call sensei!” Aoyama all but screamed after they lost sight of the pair.

“No matter how you look at it, that’s not normal,” Jirou agreed.

“I’m calling right now!” Iida was way ahead of his classmates as he opened his phone, pausing at the contact list. Who should they call? Their teachers? But their teachers were outsiders as well, would they be able to do anything?

So Iida chose the most obvious choice and clicked on Kunikida’s contact. The blond man was the one they were most familiar with. Iida was certain he could save Kyuusaku.

“What’s wrong, Ojiro?” Shouji asked when he noticed Ojiro was still sitting on the floor, the same position he had been in since Kyuusaku pushed him away.

Ojiro didn’t reply, his head dipped low as he stared down at his own hands. When everyone else looked to his hands, they paled at the sight of red fluid covering both of his palms.

“Ojiro-kun! What happened to your hands?!” Midoriya was horrified by the amount of blood that was there.

“It’s not my blood!” Ojiro explained, voice quivering slightly. "When Kyuusaku was screaming, I tried to get him to calm down and gripped his arms, I—"

Ojiro was quickly calming down as he recalled the feeling of what he felt underneath the child’s sleeves. Whatever those were, they were sharp and all over the kid’s arms. No, rather, it felt like his hands were the ones that made those sharp objects sink into the child's flesh.

He quickly explained that to the others.

“Back then…Kyuusaku said that running hurts.” Ojiro felt sick as he finally realized what was wrong. It wasn’t the child’s legs that were hurting, it was his upper body that was hidden beneath his coat. “We have to find him, he might be in danger!”

They should have realized sooner just how incongruent everything about Kyuusaku was!

“Kunikida-san?” Iida spoke and everyone turned to see him on the phone with Kunikida. “We need help! There’s a child and— where are we? Uh…” Iida began looking around, but couldn’t see any road signs indicating their location.

“I know!” Kaminari said as he fumbled with the paper map he used to lead them to the bar.

Iida turned the phone to speaker mode and turned it towards his classmate.

“We’re on—!” Before Kaminari could say the address, Kunikida began to speak.

“That’s alright, I can see where you are on the map,” the blond stated from the other end. “I am not going to start with why all of you are even there. You have forty minutes to come back. I won’t be explaining to your teachers if you miss your curfew time.”

“Kunikida-san! There’s a kid that’s hurt and got taken away by a strange man!” Ashido explained.

“He could be a human trafficker!” Aoyama joined in the background.

“A kid was taken by a strange man?” They could all hear the frown on Kunikida’s face. “By force?”

“No, they walked away together but—” Todoroki tried to pipe in, but was interrupted by Kunikida.

“Forget it.”

“Eh?” Ashido blinked, as if unable to believe she had heard right. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I meant.” Kunikida said on the other end. “If you don’t know how to get back, stay put. I’ll come to get you.”

“Wait!” Midoriya yelled. “There’s an injured child who might be in danger!”

A sigh came from the other end of the line.

“Yokohama is not the outside world,” Kunikida reminded the group. “Don't stick your nose into places where it doesn't belong.”

“That’s got nothing to do with anything!” Bakugou shouted. “Did you not hear a fucking word we said?! There’s a kid—”

“And I’m telling you to forget about this kid,” the man sighed “Use your brains, would any ordinary kid appear in such an isolated place so late at night?"

“That’s why we need to help!” Yaoyorozu said, as if it was the most obvious thing. “Something isn’t right and that child could be in danger! He’s bleeding!”

Another sigh. “You know what, this is going nowhere. Just stay there and don’t move around. I’m coming to pick you up.”

Click

Just like that, Kunikida hung up, leaving the kids staring in shock and disbelief.

“What the fuck?!” Bakugou hollered, voicing out everyone’s thoughts in three short words.

Iida gritted his teeth, hands gripping tightly onto his phone before he began dialing again.

“What are you doing?” Tokoyami asked.

“The police!” Iida answered, typing in the numbers before putting the phone over his ear. He reached the helpline fairly quickly. Everyone watched hopefully as Iida explained the situation to the operator.

“It’s Kyuusaku, sir!” Iida said into the phone. “Surname? I don’t know...gender? A boy maybe? No, I don’t know for sure—we just met in the park!”

Iida seemed to be panicking as he struggled to converse with the other side. Everyone just watched as his responses grew weaker and weaker.

“Well, yes, that person claimed to be their guardian but—…yes…yes…they left together.” After that, Iida didn’t say anything. He just waited for the other side to finish before he slowly pulled the phone away from his ear.

“They…” Iida opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could finally utter the words. “They said they can’t do anything.”

“What…do you mean?” Uraraka asked. “A child’s being taken—”

“Kyuusaku-kun walked away by himself," Iida told everyone. "And that person said he’s Kyuusaku-kun’s guardian. The operator said the police won’t get involved unless we can provide proof that he was being taken away against his will.”

“What?!” Ashido was outraged. “What kind of response is that?!”

“How can…are we just going to let it happen?!” Sato spluttered.

For the first time since arriving, the kids felt the malice within Yokohama. This was wrong! This whole city was wrong! How could they all turn a blind eye to someone—a child — that needed help? No matter how they looked at it, it’s just not normal!

“I’m going.” Midoriya suddenly announced.

“Deku-kun?!” Uraraka gasped.

“Kyuusaku needs help, and I can’t turn a blind eye to it,” he said as his hands rolled into tight fists. Questions flooded through his mind as he kept replaying their conversation with Kunikida.

Why?

Why did he refuse to help even when there was someone in need of help? Wasn’t the Armed Detective Agency there to help people?

Midoriya didn’t understand, but one thing that’s clear was that no one was going to save Kyuusaku.

“It might be dangerous!” Aoyama whimpered. “Kunikida-san told us to stay put, and we can’t use our Quirks!”

“I’m just going to follow them and find out where they went,” Midoriya explained. “If I can find their location, then we can call the police and have them do something, right?”

“That’s true,” Sero agreed. “They want proof right? If they go take a look for themselves I’m sure they’ll find something wrong!”

“But you saw how Kyuusaku-chan defended that person,” Yaoyorozu pointed out.

“We can’t just do nothing!” Ojiro was the most affected by the situation due to the child’s blood staining his hands.

“I agree with Midoriya,” Todoroki said. “I’m going as well.”

“I’m coming too!” Bakugou announced, still grinding his teeth in irritation at the thought of that man. “There’s something off about that guy.”

“You guys can’t all go! You’ll get found out!” Hagakure said as she pulled off her gloves and threw them onto the floor. “How about this, I’ll go with Midoriya-kun! Since they can’t see me, I can scout the area without getting seen!”

“But your Quirk—” Sato began, only to get cut off.

“I’m not using my Quirk! I’m just naturally like this!”

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. 

“I’ll go with them!” Jirou said. “Even if I can’t use my quirk, I can still hear better than average people.”

“I’ll go with you too,” Shouji walked over to Midoriya. “If anything happens, I can take everyone and run.”

“Then I’ll—” Kirishima also wanted to volunteer, but was stopped by Bakugou.

“Any more and the enemy will notice, stupid,” he pointed out.

“We have enemies now?” the blond gaped.

“Thank you, Shouji-kun, Hagakure-san, Jirou-san,” Midoriya thanked the three. He knew he was being selfish, and he knew that it was going to be dangerous. Whoever that white haired male was, Midoriya could tell he wasn’t anyone ordinary.

Everyone else knew as well, that’s why none of them could turn a blind eye to Kyuusaku’s situation.

“Fifteen minutes,” Iida finally gritted out. Anyone could tell he strongly disapproved of it, but he also wanted to save Kyuusaku more than anyone else. “If you don’t come back in fifteen minutes, we will call the teachers and Kunikida-san.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya nodded.

“Here, take this phone.” Yaoyorozu held out her phone. “It seems there are trackers on the phone for Kunikida-san to find us. I’ve turned off the sound just in case. If anything happens, we can find you.”

“Thank you, Yaoyorozu,” Jirou said as she took the phone.

Ashido also handed the phone she carried to Hagakure, while Midoriya and Shouji took out their own phones and muted them.

“Don’t do anything dangerous, ok?” Uraraka told them.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you guys know it!” Hagakure said cheerfully, though no one could see her aside from the pair of shoes still on her feet.

Just like that, the four of them took off, running towards where the man had disappeared off to with Kyuusaku.

As the rest of the class watched them go, Asui let out a small croak from the back of her throat and looked up to the cloudy sky. A cold droplet of water came out of nowhere and fell onto her left cheek.

“Gero?”

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[sankta-arya]

The Seasons of My Love (3)

Written for day 1 (soulmates) and day 5 (seasons) of @jonsa-week

Rated mature, major character death

3. Melting In My Hand

Chapter title from ‘Misty’ by Kate Bush

A widow at twenty-five and her only experience with marriage being quite a horrendous one, Sansa has no intention of ever getting married again.

That's until she meets a handsome young soldier in a pub.

After fifty-five years of marriage, two children, five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, Jon and Sansa are still happy. But then disaster strikes.

Sansa is twenty-five.

She and her friends have all signed up as army nurses. She wanted to spend her last night before leaving in peace and quiet, but somehow she let Margaery talk her into coming along to a pub. A group of soldiers awaiting deployment are spending their free night here as well and the girls are giggling too loudly as they try to catch the boys' attention.

Because that's what they are: boys, all ranging between the ages of seventeen and nineteen - perhaps one or two can boast to be twenty or twenty-one - and they have no idea what's waiting for them. The Knights of Summer, her mother would have called them.

Sansa feels out of place, being not only the oldest of their group, but also a widow. She can't say she regrets her husband's death, she's too relieved to be rid of him. Joffrey was a vulgar bully and at times she can still feel the bruises and cuts that used to litter her skin during their marriage. Between Joffrey and leering Uncle Petyr, she's had her fill of men, so unlike her friends, she's not keen on having an innocent flirt with an army boy.

She takes a sip of her soda, trying to smile at a bawdy joke Margie's cousin Megga just shared and excuses herself. She needs some fresh air and a cigarette.

It's colder than she thought outside, so she wraps her coat more tightly around her as she tries to light a cig. The flame of her lighter keeps flickering out and suddenly a pair of large hands cup around hers to shield it from the wind. His head's bent down, but she recognises the unruly dark curls. He's one of the soldiers from inside the pub.

"Thank you," she mutters.

He glances up at her with a smirk. "You're welcome, Miss."

Their eyes meet, and even in the dark, she can see colour flooding his face. His lips part in surprise and she instantly drops her cigarette, fleeing back inside.

She tries to ignore him for the rest of the evening, overwhelmed by all the beauty she can suddenly see and what it means.

It's not until later, when Margie is talking to her handsome stranger and lightly brushes her hand over his shoulder, that Sansa can't take it anymore.

She stalks over to them, heels clicking rhythmically, and practically shoves her friend aside.

She's not even sure what she was planning to do, but now that she's close enough to count his eyelashes and study the curve of his lips, she doesn't hesitate.

She cups his jaw, lightly scratching his wispy beard and dives in to kiss him deeply, encouraged by the hoots and delighted shrieks of their respective groups of friends.

I loved a maid as white as winter

with moonglow in her hair

Sansa sighed as she pulled the brush through her thick, snowy mane. They'll find him, she kept telling herself. He'lll be fine, the mantra repeated itself over and over again in her head.

She couldn't allow herself to think otherwise. Oh, how she wished she could be out there looking for him herself, but she would be of no use to them.

I shouldn't have sent him out by himself. Jon made the trip to the grocery store just around the corner and the bakery across the street almost weekly. The doctors said it was good for him to keep doing things independently as long as he could. The worst that had happened so far was that he got angry because the butcher wouldn't sell him any bread.

It's all my fault. She'd given him a list, told him exactly where to buy what, but perhaps she should have waited until she felt better and could have gone along with him, or asked Minisa for help. It's just that she didn't want to impose on her daughter's life more than she already did.

Suddenly the front door swung open and she pushed herself to her feet, bracing her hand on the table to keep herself steady.

"We were out of dog food," she could hear Jon explain to Mina. "Your mother forgot to put it on the list."

They hadn't had a dog in seven years and the store on Torrhen's Square he went looking for had closed nearly two years ago. When he couldn't find it, he'd tried to head home again, but he had forgotten how to get back.

***

The next morning she woke up to Jon opening drawers, a scowl fixed on his face. At first she'd asked him what he was looking for whenever he did that, but she'd learned it often set off his temper.

He glanced up to find her standing in the doorway and beamed at her. She was fond of his smiles, they made him look fifteen years younger and incredibly handsome.

He closed the distance between them quickly - he was still in an excellent physical condition for his age- and cupped her cheeks to kiss her. Suddenly his hands slid down her neck and collarbones and he started to fondle her breasts.

"Jon!" she cried out, swatting his hands away as she pulled back. "We're too old for that nonsense!"

She pushed past him to get to the kitchen. She almost jumped when she suddenly felt his hand groping her arse. "I can't help it, lovely girl," he whispered into her ear. "You drive me insane."

***

She was sitting on the bench under the cherry tree, trying to focus on her knitting, but the doctor's voice kept echoing inside her head.

She'd been able to hear the words, but she couldn't make sense of them. Lymph nodes. Metastasis. Early stage 4.

"Is it treatable?" Minisa had asked. Her stomach churned as she recalled the look of pity on the oncologist's face. He'd murmured excuses like "your mother's age" and "with her medical history."

I'm still sitting right here! part of her had wanted to scream, but she'd just felt too numb.

"How long?" she remembered asking.

"Difficult to tell, probably six months."

Dying didn't particularly scare her, being left behind was always worse, but she couldn't leave Jon, not now.

"Should we tell him?" Mina had asked after explaining the situation.

The doctor had rubbed his chin and removed his glasses, wiping them as he pondered her question. "I believe it's best to consult the physician who's treating your father before making a final decision," he'd stated eventually. "But I'd advise against it. He won't remember most of the time, and when he does, it might be too much to handle."

***

So Sansa tried to cope by herself, keeping her husband in the dark on the fact that she was dying. She willed her body to stay strong, for him. The doctors and her daughter and son had all agreed that she shouldn't tell Jon, but she kept worrying. What's going to happen when he wakes up one day and I'm gone?

She was aware telling him probably wouldn't make any difference, but it still hurt so much to lie to him and to bear this pain alone. She had Arya and Brienne, but neither of them were good at talking, and Sansa would never burden Mina or Ned with her own troubles. She was their mother, for Seven's sake!

Jon had been her rock for over fifty-five years, and though he was still with her, she was on her own now. Some days she felt like the Jon she'd known and loved for so long was already gone.

Jon would have never shoved her aside in frustration. Jon wouldn't stand in front of their open window stark naked, glaring and shouting at the people who pointed and laughed behind their hands.

***

Brienne and her husband Jaime were visiting. They'd just finished their tea and cakes when Jaime proposed they all play a board game together. Sansa tried to distract him by asking how his brother Tyrion was doing, not wanting to explain that Jon was no longer able to remember the rules to most games.

She couldn't make Jaime change his mind however, especially after sweet oblivious Jon agreed, both men's competitive streak coming out, but she did manage to steer their choice toward a relatively simple card game.

Yet twenty minutes in, Jon suddenly leapt to his feet, roaring: "You're all cheating!" and threw his cards in Jaime's face.

"Hey, sit down, caveman!" Jaime urged him, as Sansa hid her flushed cheeks behind her own cards.

"You're a fucking cheater, Lannister!" Jon threw back at him, banging his fist on the table.

Sansa thanked all the gods Brienne had the presence of mind to stop Jaime from taking it any further by putting a hand on his arm.

***

Jon was walking around naked again, but at least he wasn't near any streetside windows this time. He grinned at Sansa as she let her eyes trail down his body, desperately wondering how she was going to convince him to put on some clothes.

Suddenly he slapped his own arse. "I have a nice butt, don't I, Sansa? I've seen you looking at it. I know you want to get your hands on me," he purred, trying to wink at her.

She decided to indulge him, taking a step closer and admitting: "You caught me!"

Suddenly her vision became blurry and her knees buckled. The last thing she heard was his panicked cry: "Sansa! Sansa, baby! What's wrong?"

***

Five months later.

Jon hobbled on through the black-and-white streets of Wintertown, the snow flurrying down around him. For some reason he'd woken up in a hospital bed that morning, and though his joints felt a little stiff, he was quite sure he was not ill, so he had no business being in a hospital.

The world around him looked drab and dull. It hadn't always been like that, but he couldn't remember when or why it had changed. When he closed his eyes, he could still see colours: blue and pink and cream, and a rich rusty red that smelled like lemons and lavender.

He couldn't recall the exact significance of those colours and that scent, but he knew he had to get back home, where she'd be waiting for him, and everything would be fine.

Her name was on the tip of his tongue. He wet his lips, trying to remember. He kicked the lid off a trash bin, huffing in frustration.

He crossed the street when he saw a florist shop, going in to buy a pot of jonquils. After another forty-five minutes, he'd finally found the house with the cherry tree.

He patted his pockets, looking for a key. When he realised he must have forgotten it, he knocked on the door, but no one came to answer it. How foolish of him! It was the middle of the day, she must still be at work.

He sat down on the bench under the cherry tree and decided to wait for her. It was colder than he'd realized. He rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air into them, wishing he had a warmer jacket.

He pushed himself to his feet, groaning at his protesting joints and started pacing the front garden. He didn't really keep track of time, but after a while he decided to get comfortable on the bench again. She won't be long now.

He could feel fatigue settling in his bones and his head slumping to his shoulder. He jerked up, suppressing a yawn. She won't be long now.

He felt so sleepy suddenly. He'd just close his eyes for a minute.

A delicate hand touched his shoulder. "Jon," she whispered. He blinked, shielding his eyes from the bright light that suddenly invaded them.

She was standing in front of him in a lovely blue sundress, long auburn hair framing her face in soft curls. "Sansa?" he asked, his voice rough.

She beamed at him. "Come."

He took the hand she was extending to him without hesitating.

[aestroviks]

The Fool’s Tale Chapter 1

Ao3 link

Rating: Mature

Summary: A kiss on the cheeck, a promise left unfulfilled and memories he’s rather forget

When Evie, Mal and Jay get called to Auradon they need to leave their friend Carlos behind. Promising they only will be away for a few weeks Carlos patiently waits. But after a failed attempt of opening the borders, a declaration of goodness, Carlos is forgotten. Losing with each day the hope and faith his so called friends would ever return Carlos ignores the future they had promised him. Surving on his own all over again.

More than a year later Carlos gets called to Auradon along with the second batch of children who are given a second chance. But all Carlos can think of is his anger towards the poeple who played with his emotions like that, and perhaps the king should not have given him this chance.

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Marijuana is the only drug referenced, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Child Abuse

Notes: This fic is based on @bunny-lou prompt which you can find here, I let my own imagination loose on this though. 

The Fool's tale is a lying one.

A fool once said he would be fine to a princess with grace, who kissed his temple and promised she would take him to paradise.

All the princess left the fool with was a broken promise to a fool's paradise.

A fool was once told by the dragon that she would be away just a couple of weeks.

All the dragon left the fool with was a fool’s errand, a job filled with sneaking loneliness.

A fool once believed a thief who told him he would be free.

All the thief left the fool with was fool's gold- just like fool’s pride.

A fool once saw a dragon, a princess, and a thief who told him words that only a fool would believe.

All the fool left them were his tired, angry eyes.

CHAPTER 1

Foolish Hope

A kiss on the cheek, a promise left unfulfilled, and memories he’d rather forget.

Carlos glanced sideways as he walked through the streets. Villains were drunk and screaming as they chugged some more alcohol. A joint was being passed around by the younger generations, suffering because of their parents’ consequences, trying to use some plant to let them forget.

He ducked his head as a beer bottle was thrown at him by a fat drunk man, watching it break on impact against the wall beside him. All he could do was stare at the pieces of glass, parts of his reflection in them.

Carlos knew he had gotten older. But he didn't know if his mind was the same age as his body anymore. Perhaps it had always been older - one of those old souls they used as compliments in Auradon.

‘A insult really,’ he said to himself as he continued his walk back to Hell Hall. His back burned from the fingernails that had been there less than half an hour ago, scratching his back and digging into his already bruised and scarred skin. He didn’t complain. It paid him well, perhaps better than even Jafar would pay his son back when said son was still here.

(You should not think about them)

Before Carlos headed home, he went to the familiar tree. Hands went into the ground near its trunk as he began his usual routine of digging until his hands felt wood. Hastily, Carlos pulled the wooden box out, opened it and put in as much money he could miss (as much money as possible before his mother would get suspicious). He counted it carefully, checking that nothing had gone missing and to assuring himself he actually had something that he owned more than his mother.

After he had recounted the money three times (he always did that to make sure his brain hadn't gone insane), he put the wooden box back into the ground, only to cover it with dirt once again. Carlos swept his hands across his pants, trying to get as much dirt as possible from under his nails, because no dirty nails would let him into his sleeping space if mother noticed. He would end up sleeping outside where it was colder now that December and snow were arriving. It was the time of the year where hypothermia was the favourite method of dying for the people who lived on the Isle of the Lost - next to getting stabbed to death of course.

Carlos dragged his feet as he started on his way ‘home’. The walk felt more and more like a funeral march with each lead-filled step he took. He was dreading the idea of his mother, dreading the hand that would be waiting for the money he earned to be given, as if his mother was some kind of charity doing good work. He barked out a laugh at the idea. His mother working for a charity? She would rather kill her own blood, Carlos knew that for sure.

In front of the house, Cruella de Vil’s treasure was blinking as much as it could in the dark. The ugly car was parked in the overgrown bushes, as if they had suddenly become a parking spot. Carlos sighed as he looked away. He opened the door, closing it when he had gone through, and began to tiptoe.

“Carlos,” a nasally voice said from the living room. Frozen, Carlos heard her walk up to the hallway. Her heels clacked on the stone floor and before he could blink, Cruella de Vil was staring at him, hair wild and up as always. She was in a worn out black and white dotted bathroom robe, a sleeping mask on top of her head, and a thick green creme that was probably made out of toad on her face. Her bony hand raised itself like it did every other night for the last few months. He pulled the money out of his jacket, handing it over while the she looked at the money with calculated eyes, counting it slowly. With a poker face, she put the money in her bathrobe before roughly grabbing him by the face. Nails painfully set themselves into his skin.

“I expect more from you next time.” She spat in his face.

He simply nodded. He was frightened of her, but nowadays he could not bring himself to care about his feelings. The last people who cared turned on him and hurt them like anybody else on this island. Perhaps they would be proud of him now: Carlos de Vil, no putting emotions in his voice anymore.

No caring about feelings.

He still was shunned and stayed out of people's way most of the time. Some days he ended up with Harry Hook after school. “A mutual arrangement” they called it, ever since they crossed paths at Carlos so called ‘work’. He still went through the bullying, though. That had gotten only so much worse since the day his so called ‘friends’ decided to be good.

(He had celebrated it for a mere second before his feelings turned to anger and resentment. That goodness and kindness, while they may have acted like that during those moments, just wasn’t true. Carlos could tell, otherwise they would’ve gotten him out of here so long ago, but months had passed and had turned into a whole year. Longer than that even, not that he had kept track of time. He didn’t care anymore about those horrible people.)

(Yet you still care.)

Cruella pushed him down, his body colliding with the stone floor he had become so familiar with. She walked over him, the back of her heels hitting his back. All Carlos saw from his position was her feet as she walked upstairs to her bedroom, leaving him behind on the cold stone ground.

Carlos pushed himself up with the only strength he had left that night and brought himself to the tiny closet that he slept in at night. The moment his body hit the mattress, he fell asleep, his mind bringing him his routinely nightmares. His mind did not let him dream anymore. In his sleep state, all he had were the voices of false promises. Memories that once were happy turned to nightmares.  

“Carlos.” Harry Hook joined him the next day in his walk. He went through the shadows so nobody would notice him as he left the school.

“Harry.” Carlos said neutrally, not sparing the other guy a glance.

Harry changed his fake hook from his right hand to his left before sliding his right arm around Carlos waist. ‘I was wondering if yer could join me later?’

A suggestive eyebrow was raised with the question.

“Why not?” Carlos answered. His mind was screaming at him to say no but he couldn’t. The corners of Harry’s mouth turned upwards. His face came closer and suddenly his lips were against Carlos ear.

“Behind Uma’s place. The usual place is booked already.” And just like that, Harry disappeared again. Carlos saw him running up to Gil and Uma down the hall.

Carlos turned right, deciding that the other exit suddenly had become much more appealing to him. It would make him walk more, but anything was better than having to pass that group unnoticed.

He made his way to Uma’s place as silently as possible. When he got close to Ursula’s Fish and Chips Carlos, he suddenly felt an arm with a hook slide around his waist. It pulled him close and a pair of lips attacked his neck, leaving bite marks. As always, Carlos let Harry set the pace.

It was partly because he did not care anymore.

Partly because it would prevent him from getting any more injuries than he already had.

Harry loved the idea of pain. It excited him to see his partner’s intense reactions to it. Oh, how he had learned and was aware of that fact. Carlos sighed, and laid his thin bony hands under the other boys chin, pulling him into a kiss on the lips as their hands undressed each other.

“I got a high grade on Selfie’s.” Harry said while putting on his clothes, just as Carlos did.

As if the awkward silence would be cured with that conversation starter.

As Carlos pulled his shirt over his head, he turned and stared at Harry. “Congrats.” He simply replied, hoping the conversation would end there.

Harry wasn’t done. “You always get high grades right?” he asked Carlos, sitting down on a old crate as he started putting on his shoes. “People always mention that when they talk about you.”

‘When they talk shit about you,’ Carlos mind kindly translated.

“I do.” Carlos didn’t see a point in lying. Everyone was aware already of the fact that he got high grades. Harry nodded. Tying his other shoe, he glanced over at Carlos. “What?”

Harry shook his head, falling silent. While Carlos appreciated the fact Harry Hook actually could shut the fuck up for two seconds, it only made him more nervous because Harry usually spoke as much as the world would let him. He always spoke dirty and a lot when he bit Carlos’s ear, roughly digging his nails into Carlos’ exposed back, biting his lip till they both could taste Carlos’ blood in their mouths. It was the way it pleased Harry.

“Fancy a drink?” Harry suddenly said when he was done with tying his shoelaces.

At first, Carlos didn’t realise Harry had really asked him that. For a second he thought about agreeing, but then he remembered Uma and the rest of her pirate crew who bombarded the place they would get drinks at. He simply shook his head and watched Harry leave.

When the red jacket turned around the corner, Carlos sighed. His muscles were sore and stomach was growling to tell him he should get food. He felt bad and tired, but he knew he still needed to study and do whatever tasks his mother would give him that day.

He started the walk home, the first snowflakes beginning to fall on his exposed shoulders. They were strangely cooling on the biting marks, bruises and everything in between. Perhaps he had just gotten used to being numb to the cold, because the only heat he sometimes got was at night against some filthy wall.

(Not that it ever was the heat that he wanted.)

Two weeks later, it happened.

Carlos had headed out of his classroom as he finished his last class of the day (He sometimes wondered why on an isle full of evil, school was still a thing. It didn’t fit in with the whole master evil quota. Not that he complained - he loved school). As he walked down the hallways, he stopped when he heard his name.

‘Carlos.’

He turned at the sound of his name. He looked up at lady Tremaine, who held a ugly opened envelope in her hands.

(It was pretty. Everything that came from Auradon was pretty.)

She looked over him, eyes resting for a moment on the bruises around his neck from last night.

“Care to join us in my classroom?” The icy voice asked.

He simply nodded, nervousness settling down in his stomach as he followed after her. Upon entering the classroom, he noticed there were other students: Uma, her boys Harry and Gil, Frollo’s daughter Claudine, and Rick Ratcliffe. All looked unsettled and slightly annoyed at the fact they couldn’t be somewhere else at the moment, possibly murdering someone. Carlos dug his nails into the insides of his palms, taking a place against the wall closest to the exit, far away enough from the other villian kids.

Lady Tremaine coughed before pulling out the letter from the envelope. Even from here Carlos could see the gold logo on the back of the paper. The kings logo.

“Best, Lady Tremaine,” Said lady began to read aloud. “His Royal Majesty King Ben of Auradon and his royal counselor Miss Anna Romanov hereby request the pleasure of the following attendees’ company at the current academic year at Auradon Prep: Uma, Daughter of Ursula the Sea Witch.”

When Carlos looked at Uma, all he saw was a furious stare. The letter could turn into fire with her looking at it like that.

“Gil, Son of Gaston.”  Eyes went down.

“Rick, Son of Ratcliffe.” A chuckle was heard.

“Carlos de Vil, Son of Cruella de Vil.” He felt his blood run cold.

“Claudine Frollo, Daughter of Claude Frollo.” A irritated scoff.

“Harry Hook, Son of Captain Hook.” Lady Tremaine rolled her eyes as she read aloud the last passage. “Please notify the council if you decline the request. The Limousine is ready and will depart as soon as all passengers are ready. May we greet you soon, signed his Royal Majesty King Ben.”

When the last word had been spoken, Lady Tremaine tore the letter apart faster than Carlos ever had seen her move. She threw it into the fire that was used as a heater in these cold winter months.

“Well?” Tremaine said, looking one by one at the teenagers who stood there. They were lost, not quite sure how to handle the news. “Go on then. Get out of my sight.”

One by one, they walked out of the classroom. Carlos felt numb, not knowing for sure what was happening. Was this how they had felt? Blood running cold, numbness in their heads, not sure what was going to happen next?

Regardless of how he felt, Carlos knew there wasn’t an option for him not to go. He was going regardless, for reasons he did not dare to speak aloud. He knew everyone would have their own reasons. He looked at Uma’s silhouette, which left further and further away from him.

Carlos knew she would go to take revenge on the king, for making them suffer because of their heritage.

Gil and Harry would go because where Uma went, they followed. It was pirates law, Harry had once told Carlos.

He wasn’t sure about the closed-off Claudine Frollo. She was a book he never could read.

Rick Ratcliffe wouldn’t arrive in Auradon. He loved this place too much.  

And Carlos’ reason? His reason? It was to be more free than he would ever be here.

(And to take revenge on those who had hurt him)

So that was how he found himself in Jafar’s store. The old man barely spared him a glance as he continued to work, but it wasn’t until he looked over again and recognised the boy. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I need a bag.” Carlos said. His eyes glanced over the store, which looked more empty than ever. That was explainable, considering its supplier was now a goody two shoes.

Jafar glanced once again over at the boy.

“What for Cruella’s boy?” Jafar asked as he pulled out a box filled with bags.

“Joining your son, as you may have guessed.” Carlos replied as he pointed to a worn out leather bag. It would do. It was big enough for all his possessions, not that he had many.

“I don’t have a son.” Jafar answered simply, opening his hand so Carlos could drop the gold coins in. “Tell Cruella I still owe her that Silver set’s money.”

Carlos grabbed the bag and tossed it over his shoulder, hoping he could get away before his mother heard the news.

When he entered Hell Hall he felt like he was stepping into a trap. Carlos moved quickly. Everything needed to be done fast. He had to be quick before she noticed. He hastily opened the door, looking at his sleeping spot and moving over the tiny space to collect his belongings. For a moment, he stared at the blanket and pillow Evie had given him. He wanted to leave them behind, but all he did was put them in the bag, close it and walk back onto the hall. He felt his feet walk in a fast pace, and before he knew it he was running, opening the door rudely and slamming it shut.

Carlos leapt to the tree. He needed to have money. It had to have some kind of worth there. Knuckles hit wood and he only digged faster. He pulled the box out of the dirt, not even thinking about cleaning it before throwing it into the bag. He scrambled and ran into the city near the bridge. That’s where the car should be. He would be close to freedom - away from mother, away from this, but close to the others again. Carlos truly did not know how he felt about that, but it would mean being away fro-

“What do you think you are doing?!” Ice cold hands set themselves on his shoulders, and fear wormed its way into Carlos mind. Cruella pushed him back against a nearby wall where he hit his head. He knew there was blood in his hair. “I heard about the letter you mutt! You are not going, you hear me?!” He felt a slap in his face before she pulled him up by his hair.

When had he dropped to the ground? Eyes scanned the place to find the bag. It had been dropped few meters down where they were. He needed time to cut himself loose and make up momentum to get the bag. His only chance was the moment she let go of his hair.

It had felt like everything had gone into slow motion.

The moment her grip was released on his hair, he ducked and started sprinting, hand outstretched as he picked up the bag. Maybe it felt so slow because he had been aware  of the fact that this was his sole chance.

He ran through the streets, pushing people out of his way, his ears tuning out their screaming and yelling. He was taking turns left, taking other turns right. His breath was uneven, but the adrenaline didn’t let him focus on anything. All it did was make him move his legs faster than he could have imagined.

Carlos heard a distant yell. He heard the engine of the car he had been forced to wash so many times. He stayed by thin alleyways, nowhere the car could catch him. Still sprinting as he made his way to the bridge, he refused to slow down as he sought his single chance of freedom.

He refused himself to slow down even when he saw the limousine. It only made him run harder. He arrived at the limousine as fast as his legs could carry him. He was breathing heavy and felt like he was going to pass out. His world was spinning as he handed his bag to a man dressed in a yellow uniform. His head felt like it was going to burst.

Carlos felt his world die for a second when he suddenly felt an arm under his armpits. A thought flashed through his mind that his mother had caught him and his chance was gone, but a smooth voice broke that nightmare. He looked, bewildered, to his side where Uma stood, bright blue braids covering her face and her captain's hat still on.

“Let’s get you in the car, useless.” She simply stated, helping him into the limousine where everybody except Rick Ratcliffe was seated. Uma sat down next to him, ignoring his face of pure confusion. “We can go. Everybody is here.” She signed to the driver.

Harry and Gil were eating all the candy the limousine had available, fighting over who got to eat what first. Claudine Frollo had her bible close to her chest, as if it would disappear into thin air if she laid it down on her legs.

“This ride better be good. My mum’s already furious I’m going.” Uma huffed, rolling her eyes as she propped her chin up in one hand, eyes absently staring out of the window.

“It’s a bunch of rich kids,” scoffed Claudine. “they probably wear pastel clothes and smell like  fresh widdle daisies.”

“Still an upgrade from smelling like fucking shit.”

“Do you think they can really eat all they want?” Gil asked, gripping tightly a candy bar as Harry kept trying to yank it out of his his grasp with no success. “With this much candy, it sure looks like it.”

“If they don’t, I’m suing.”

Uma chuckled. “Like we have any rights. One complaint and we would be sent back there without a second glance spared, you fucking idiots.”  

“Would the classes be different from the ones here?” Claudine asked.

Harry quickly turned to look at her like she wasn’t thinking straight, as if she just had declared he was straight or said he was a good person.

“Why would you think about that? Of course they don’t have a Selfie class, they replace that with some other useless class.”

“With Remedial goodness.” Carlos said before he thought to shut up. The other four Villian Kids looked at him like he had gone insane.

With raised eyebrows, Gil opened his mouth “How do you know that?”

Carlos remembered the last time he had seen them and actually talked to them. It was over a fucking laptop webcam and they’d all looked awfully silent. Maleficent had been sitting in the foreground as the Evil Queen had told him about the event. As they told them about what they were doing, Carlos had bitten on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Envy had spread through his body while his mind told himself it only a few more days and they would free him.

Which had never happened.

They talked about their classes and they had mentioned the goodness class, where they were taught what was good and what was evil.

(He never understood why they needed that class. While they themselves hadn’t seen the goodness in themselves, Carlos had. Now he realised what he had witnessed was foolish hope, because his so-called friends weren’t kind. They were downright cruel. No class could teach that out of someone who was born with it.)

“They mentioned it to me once.” he answered softly.

“They?”

“He means Mal and her rookies you idiot.” Uma snarled. “What do you mean mentioned? Did you keep in contact with those idiots?” she continued to inquire.

“I talked to them a few days before they fucked up the plan. Never again since then.” Carlos said coldly, emotions cut out of his voice. No one could make out his current mood from his face.

Uma simply nodded once before turning to look outside. A tiny ‘oh’ left her mouth before her eyes widened in fear.

“Stop, you idiot!” She yelled out to the driver, but the man didn’t stop. He increased the speed and the other VK’s had taken notice to what was going on. Claudine clutched her bible even closer to her chest and shut her eyes. Gil and Harry held each other, screaming, and Uma was frozen in fear. Carlos felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs, and tears came up with the thought that this was the end as he joined Gil and Harry’s scream fest.

Three seconds before they would go down Two seconds before they would fall to their death One second before he was a goner. Zero.

But nothing happened. There was no drop, no car that felt like it was falling down. Hastily, Carlos looked out the windows. All he saw was gold.

“We’re driving on gold.” he whispered out loud, the awe clear in his voice. The driver started laughing. They drove over a gold bridge that was connected to Auradon.

He wasn’t going to die.

Carlos felt relief going through him. But then it hit him that he was going to Auradon, where the others were.

These were the people who left him to die alone. All he felt from those thoughts was madness and a thin line of sadness, because he wasn’t ready to come face to face with the people who left him. These were the people he thought cared about him, who broke their promises and clearly showed their priorities laid in a future he wasn’t a part of.

The limousine pulled up on a fairytale-looking place, with everything covered in a nice layer of snow. Carlos saw from his window a young man standing in a dark thick fur coat. It reminded Carlos of his mother but unlike her, King Ben didn’t look like a king - more like a teenager who was going to be drowned in his own fur coat. It was sadly laughable.

The driver opened the portier and Uma was the first one to go. Harry was right after her, softly holding her hand the moment she was out. It surprised Carlos that she did not push him away. Carlos followed them, with Gil and Claudine behind him. Ben smiled happily at them as a greeting. He waved his gloved hand, stepping forward a second later.

Ben opened his speech with “Welcome to Auradon. We are all delighted you are attending our school.”

Carlos studied him, looking why Mal had fallen in love with him, but he didn’t see any. All he saw was a boy with the title of king.

“I am sorry its so late, but I will show you all to your dorms and give you your tour. Follow me please.” Ben said, turning around to start walking through the snow. They all followed him in a slow pace, looking around them and studying the place they would have to call their home.

There were lanterns with candles all over the place, lighting the way. All Carlos felt was uneasiness, because fire reminded him of the wrists his mother used as ashtrays. He pulled down his sleeves, as if it would help hide the burn scars on his bony wrists.

“Here are the sporting halls, over there is the tourney field and down that way are the stables. Horse Riding is still a big part of Auradon culture.” Ben continued.

“Nobody asked you.” Claudine said from behind Carlos.

Ben turned and smiled brightly at her, teeth whiter than Carlos ever had seen on a person back on the isle.

“I know,” he began. “But the first group had that question. I decided to upgrade my tour commentary so I would be more clear.”

Carlos looked down at the mention of them. His shoes had suddenly become much more interesting than the words coming out of Ben’s mouth. They walked further down the path, Ben constantly talking about things that Carlos did not catch till they stopped in front of a building with a big entryway.

The moment they were inside (Ben had politely held the door open till every single last one of them was in), his royal highness freed himself from his fur coat. A young man who was sitting down on a nearby sofa stood up and greeted Ben with a quick smile, adjusting his big horn glasses before looking over the group.

“This is Doug. He has your timetables and the classes you need to attend. He will also show you to your dorms.” Ben explained as Doug gave an awkward wave. He handed out the timetables one by one and the moment Carlos had the piece of paper in his hand he carefully studied each and everyday.

“If you want to attend club activities there is a board over there,” Ben pointed behind him. “with each and everyone of them. including the times they start and end. Everybody's schedules are made so they have time for club activities.” He continued to explain.

A loud clock rang through the room. On the big clock hanging on the wall, the hands were pointing to 11.

Ben's face visibly whitened. “I’m sorry. Doug, please show them their dorms. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Have a nice night.”

Doug nodded and Carlos looked at Ben's retreating back. Before he could help it, the words left his tongue - words he should’ve left unsaid, because bringing attention to himself made things worse.

“Ben, wait up.” Carlos said, ignoring the fact that the other VK’s rolled their eyes as they walked away, following Doug. Ben stood still, turning with a questioning gaze.

‘Pretty eyes for a pretty boy,’ Carlos thought.

“I had a question.”

“Oh sure, go ahead.”

“Does Auradon have the same currency as the Isle of the Lost?” he heard himself ask. Ben raised a eyebrow.

“I’m sorry…” Ben looked lost “I never caught your name.”

“Carlos de Vil.”

Ben eyes widened slightly but he quickly corrected himself.

“Thought the colour scheme would’ve given it away.” Carlos laughed weakly.

Ben shook his head. “No i just realised how similar you look to your mother.”

Carlos froze, feeling his throat hurt. Ben hadn’t noticed though.

“There are statues of the villains in a museum down here. Hence why I know.” Ben smiled. “But I am sorry I don’t know. How so?”

“I took the money I saved with me and I was interested in if it had worth in here.”

Ben nodded before laying his hand on Carlos’s shoulder. Who felt a bit of warmth coming of it.

“I am sorry I really don’t know. Show me tomorrow during lunch, perhaps. You could dine with me and my friends if you wanted.” Ben looked happy at the idea. “You know them for sure. Evie, Jay, and Mal, right? Do you know them well?”

Carlos felt like he just had ice water dropped over him. He felt like telling the truth, talking about the three villain kids who abandoned the people they cared about, but Carlos wasn’t a bad person. He had often been told he was a disgrace as there was no evil in him.

He shook his head.

“I was bullied by everyone and stayed in my own lane. I was more of a loner type.” He let out a soft laugh, looking at Ben. “I never really spent time with that group.”

(A simple lie)

“Oh,” Ben said. He looked apologetic. “If you don’t want to, that's understandable. We’ll do it some other time.”

“Sure,” Carlos said, feeling like he dodged a bullet.

“I am sure they wouldn’t mind though. They have become  good people.”

“I’d just rather not, in general.” Carlos said, looking at the clock and feeling a wave of sleepiness hitting him. “I should go to my dorm. Goodnight.”

He turned away, ready to go look for his dorm before stopping as a realization dawned on him.

“You don’t know where your dorm is ,do you?” Ben said from behind him. He let out a laugh before walking past, nudging his head “Come on I’ll show you.”

He walked up the stairs and Carlos followed obediently, more ready than ever to see his sleeping spot. They walked through several corridors before ending up at a door at the end of a hallway.

“This is it.” Ben declared.

Carlos looked at the door for a moment, hand laid down on the handle as he softly pushed it down. As he opened the door and saw the room, he felt his breath left his body. It was a room, with a big window and an actual bed.

It was an actual bedroom.

“Carlos?” Ben laid his hand on Carlos’ shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I-I am fine.” He stuttered. “Just… overwhelmed.”

He turned his head to look at Ben with an unsure expression.

“Are you sure this is mine?” He asked, needing reassurance that this was real, not a sick joke like everyone used to play on him. Confused, Ben nodded.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Carlos’ eyes widened.

“No reason.” He said that too quickly, but Ben just nodded. When he turned again, Ben let out a gasp. Quickly Carlos head snapped back to look at Ben.

“Your head, you... have blood in your hair.” Ben stammered.

Looking lost and not sure what to say or do, Carlos raised his hand to touch the back of his scalp, suddenly feeling the wetness and pain that was there. When he pulled his hand back, he saw that his fingertips were red.

“Oh.”

“You need to get that cleaned up.”

Ben moved through the room, opening a door that Carlos thought would lead to the bathroom and a moment later, Ben came back holding a box in his hands.

“First aid kit.” Ben explained when he saw Carlos look at the box as something foreign. “Lay down, its gonna take a while.”

Without a word, Carlos did what was him told. He picked the closest bed and lay down.

“Lay on your stomach, that way I can treat it easier.”

Carlos felt how Ben’s hands went over the back of his head, searching for the wound and looking for anything that may be in there.

“From the looks of it there’s nothing bad.” Ben commented, hands still going through the hair as he picked up the first layer of sterilized gauze. “The wound is minor - nothing into deep. It looks like most of the bleeding already stopped.” Ben applied pressure lightly on the wound. “Any idea how you got it?”

(Images flashed across Carlos’s mind: bony hands dragging him by his hair, a fiery laugh and a body that while it looked like there wasn’t a muscle on it still could hit with quite the force.)

“I fell while running towards the limousine.” Carlos stopped, biting on his tongue as to not let the hiss of pain slip from his lips. “Must’ve hit my head.”

“Ah,” Ben said.

A awkward silence filled the room.

“You mentioned earlier you were more of a introvert. Do you have friends on the isle of the lost?”

Carlos was glad Ben couldn’t his face right at that moment.

“No.” He answered, bitterness in his voice. “But this place would bring new beginnings wouldn’t it?”

The awkward silence hung over as Ben struggled to think of ways to kill it and Carlos continued to welcome it like an old friend he hadn’t seen in ages. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, Ben got up.

“Ah the 15 minutes are over!” Ben moved quickly, pulling away the gauze. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped.”

Feeling the shift in weight on the bed, Carlos raised his head slightly. Looking from the corners of his eye, he saw Ben get a pair of scissors and bandages.

“I need to do a butterfly cut. The wound was very minor, but let's have it heal overnight, alright? You should be fine to shower in the morning and get the dirt and blood out of your hair, but don't use shampoo, alright?” Ben said as he cut the bandages into a butterfly, sitting once again down on the edge of the bed, his fingertips finding the wound again.

“All done.” The king spoke. “You can sit up again.”

Carlos pushed himself up, looking towards the other man who merely gave an awkward smile. Unsure of what to do, he gave Carlos a little pat on his shoulder. Carlos smiled, while his muscles screamed in irritation.

“If it starts bleeding, go downstairs and use the landline. I'll write my number down and send someone to help you and check the wound tomorrow, alright?” Moving towards the desk, Ben grabbed a pen and quickly jotted something down on a piece of paper. Quickly, he moved back to Carlos side, handling him the paper. “You can call me for anything.” He reassured Carlos.

Still surprised, Carlos hesitantly accepted the note and looked from it to Ben a few times.

“...Thank you.”

“No problem.” Ben smiled, “Sleep well, Carlos.”

“You too.”

The moment the king left the room, Carlos sat, defeated, on the bed. His hands moved as he pulled off his jacket. His hands were on on the edge of his shirt as he slowly undressed himself. Clothes were dropped onto the ground without a second glance. Carefully, he shuffled his way under the sheets. As his eyes closed, nightmares returned.

[enzaime-blog]

Overcoming Complex Regional Pain Syndrome

New Story has been published on https://enzaime.com/overcoming-complex-regional-pain-syndrome/

Overcoming Complex Regional Pain Syndrome

Overcoming complex regional pain syndrome.

It was a twisted ankle that finally brought Corinne down. After so many injuries-a broken hip, surgery on her knees and her shoulder-it was one small twist, something anyone would dismiss offhand, and Corinne was flat on her back, in absolutely unimaginable, intolerable pain.

As a child, Corinne was susceptible to injury. Her family, like so many others, thought the bumps and bruises were nothing more than a sign of childhood clumsiness. But then, at 13, Corinne took a tumble on the basketball court that broke her hip. It was the beginning of a series of injuries that would suddenly halt her life.

“I always used to think that I was cursed”, says Corinne “that I was just the most unlucky human being, that somebody had it out for me and my body, that my body was just rejecting me totally.”

Her sophomore year of high school she had surgery on her knees because her body couldn’t handle the extra height caused by a growth spurt. During her junior year, she dislocated her shoulder while doing a single push-up. Shortly after, she had surgery to shorten the ligaments in her shoulder. It was only after that surgery that her family learned Corinne has Ehlers Danlos syndrome, a disorder that affects connective tissue with symptoms as peculiar as joints that hyperextend, bending far beyond the normal range of movement. In a way, the diagnosis was a relief for her family. They were tired of hearing that nothing was wrong and worried by the puzzled looks on all the doctors’ faces.

“To have a doctor say, ‘Well, this is beyond me’ is a scary thing,” says Wendy, Corinne’s mother.

And then her ankle twisted as she was walking down the stairs. Corinne tried to shake it off, but several days passed and the pain kept increasing. Assuming it was related to the syndrome, Corinne’s family sought the advice of different doctors, including an orthopedist. But it worsened each day and became so excruciating that Corinne couldn’t walk. She quit going to school and spent all day in bed.

“The pain was so bad you couldn’t even touch her leg with a cotton ball,” Wendy says. “She was crying all the time. It was terrible. There’s nothing worse than seeing your child in pain, excruciating pain, and knowing there’s nothing you can do about it.”

But Corinne’s troubles didn’t end there. The pain and the inability to live her life left her feeling alone and helpless, and she spiraled into depression.

“It just broke me down” says Corinne. “Your senior year is the year you’re supposed to have it all and do everything, and for me that just wasn’t an option anymore.”

Corinne went to a pain specialist who prescribed narcotics and diagnosed her with complex regional pain syndrome, a chronic condition. The cause of the syndrome isn’t completely understood, but it results in pain so extreme a small gust of wind on the affected area can cause intense, intolerable pain. But the medicine didn’t help Corinne, and it was actually Corinne’s pediatrician who recommended the Kennedy Krieger Institute’s pain management clinic, which provides interdisciplinary assessment and treatment of chronic pain on an inpatient and outpatient basis.

In the outpatient pain clinic Dr. Sabine Kost-Byerly, a pediatric anesthesiologist and pain specialist, confirmed the diagnosis.

“Corinne’s foot was very sensitive to even slight touch, mildly swollen, and colder than the other foot. A mottled discoloration extended almost to her knee,” Dr. Kost-Byerly says.

“When I got to Kennedy Krieger, I had been out of school for two months. I was on meds like methadone and OxyContin,” says Corinne. “I was a slug at this point. I didn’t have a personality.”

“Kids have often reached the bottom of the bottom by the time they come to us,” says Dr. Cynthia Maynard, a postdoctoral fellow with the Pediatric Psychology Program, which is part of Kennedy Krieger’s Department of Behavioral Psychology.

The therapists worked with Corinne to help her manage her pain and the depression. A crucial component of pain management at Kennedy Krieger is the interdisciplinary rehabilitation approach used. Professionals from a range of disciplines work together to develop a treatment plan for every patient. Those disciplines include medicine, occupational and physical therapy, behavioral psychology, nursing, education, nutrition, social work, child life/therapeutic recreation, neuropsychology, pediatric anesthesiology, and psychiatry.

“For patients who don’t immediately see the benefit of our multidisciplinary approach I like to use a sports analogy: professional teams have a coach (physical therapist), team psychologist (behavioral psychologist), and a team physician,” Dr. Kost-Byerly says. “You need all those people to help the players do their best.”

Because the team looked at Corinne’s case from all angles, they were able to help her manage her pain and go back to her everyday life. More importantly, each team member knew the plan and ensured it was being followed at all times, helping Corinne make progress and never fall behind on her goals.

The treatment team set small goals for Corinne. Instead of asking her to get up and walk as she always had, therapists had Corinne put weight on her foot for two seconds, slowly building up over time to five and then seven seconds. These steps forward, though small, laid a foundation allowing Corinne to regain use of her foot.

“You need more than just pills to overcome this disorder,” explains Dr. Kost-Byerly, “but these small steps are the only way to convince someone who is in so much pain to participate in any activities.”

Dr. Maynard also met with Corinne for individual therapy sessions, working to help Corinne manage her depression and cope with her pain, frustration, and anxiety by writing in a journal and working on verbal expression as ways to help her convey her feelings. Dr. Maynard also taught Corinne techniques such as progressive muscle relaxation and visual imagery that she could use to cope with, and distract herself from, the pain.

Working with Corinne during physical therapy, Dr. Maynard taught her coping methods such as deep breathing and distraction. While the therapists knew that they couldn’t completely eliminate Corinne’s pain, they encouraged her to use the physical therapy and coping techniques. Over time, she got used to bearing weight on her foot, so the pain slowly decreased.

Therapists also worked with Corinne’s family to educate them about what she was going through and how they could best support her. And that support system, Corinne says of family, friends, and therapists, is what helped her get through it all.

“When we started therapy I was very resistant. I was mad and I didn’t want to do anything,” Corinne says. “I wanted them to let me lay in bed by myself, but they pushed me, and that pushed me to push myself.”

Because that support system pushed Corinne to work harder and get through the pain, she was able to return to school and finish her senior year. She even danced in the school’s spring dance concert. Front and center, she soaked up the limelight.

“It was the best feeling,” says Corinne. “It was like I beat it.”

And, despite everything she’s been through, Corinne knows that her struggle isn’t over. Because she has Ehlers Danlos, her risk of injury is high, and any injury could result in a recurrence of the complex regional pain syndrome. Although Corinne now has a name for the pain, she can’t just go to the store and get an over-thecounter remedy, or visit the doctor and get a prescription and get well. But thanks to the team at Kennedy Krieger, she has the techniques and methods to help her if she needs them. For once, she’s on even footing against her pain.

“I feel like I’ve always been looking over my shoulder,” Corinne says. “And I know I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. But now I’ll look less often.”