#if that post pissed you off. maybe look inward as to why you get so pissy about people pointing out you might have racial biases

[kurikurimix]

That post going around saying people on here have racist music taste really struck a nerve huh?

[musashi]

Pffff you sure do manage to piss a lot of people off, and not know why or how. Perhaps you should look inward.

i'd love to look inward, unfortunately these people i piss off never actually give me anything to work with. they'll say like "wendy, you eat babies" and then i say "can i have an example of when you saw me eat a baby" and then they block and ghost me and i go to my friends like "hey, did you ever see me eating babies? i'm trying to figure this out" and they all unanimously are like "uh no we never saw anything like that??? you did look at a baby once, maybe someone misunderstood???" and then five years pass and the person mad at me for eating babies leaves a long apology in my inbox and i connect with them through DMs and say "i'm just still confused. can you explain the thing where you said i ate babies? like do you remember what made you say that?" and without fail every time they reply "i don't know man, it just seemed right to say at the time."

i'm actually quite interested in bettering myself, and a great deal of my vent posts on here DO end with "i just don't understand" because of that desire. but i think a lot of people really do just forget that i am autistic and a huge part of autism is needing very clear examples of situations/behaviour/whatever. asking lots of questions, receiving lots of clarification, etc. with how mean and quick to abandon people have gotten on the internet lately, no one wants to give me that actionable feedback, or sit with me and help me understand what i might have done wrong/inelegantly. most of them just get angry, take my "maybe we should sit on this and come back to it later?" as an insult, and block me without answer.

currently, the person maligning me fully believes that i'm not "disabled" enough, claims i am "low support," and quite literally said "all [wendy's] symptoms [of disability] improve their life." i think this is very telling of a larger picture--people see how well i hide my cracks, how i boast my function, and how happy i am despite being disabled and file me away in their head as an arrogant neurotypical who is a little bit quirky.

but i would like to remind you, anon, that i am autistic. i am disabled. my social functioning is atypical. my way of understanding myself, my actions, and how those all mesh with the people i share a space with is atypical. "look inward" is great advice, and though I think you were trying to be mean, i welcome it with open arms! however, "look inward" only helps when i have additional help to guide me toward what exactly inward i am looking for. so, in this case, it is a little misguided.

if anyone who KNOWS ME PERSONALLY NOT ON TUMBLR who hates my fucking guts would like to give me some examples of how i act/talk/exist and why it makes them want to set a library on fire i am always, at any given moment, eagerly awaiting that feedback. but currently, the feedback is "none at all." every single person who has had a problem with me for the last half-decade of my life has simply blown up on me over things i did not do/intend/understand, or hardblocked me without a conversation and left me clueless as to what i did wrong.

until someone (friend or foe) is willing to actually communicate with me instead of being a sniveling coward, i will never know where inward to look. them's the breaks!

[joesalw]

All of Taylor's albums were tailored to the most popular aesthetic at the time. She didn't make shit popular, she just adapted. Especially when she made the transition into pop music.

True. She's currently jumping fences with rep as well. Making it out to be a goth punk moment and using trendy words like 'female rage'. The album has the most romantic songs she's ever written. C'mon now. The whole record is electropop with some R&B elements thrown into the mix.

She portrays 'Lover' as her social justice warrior era. 'If I was a man, then I'd be the man'. Yeah, we've seen it Taylor. Miss 'me becoming a billionaire is good for the world because I'm a woman'. She makes herself out to be this 'feminist girl's girl' when in reality it couldn't be further from the truth. She's not a feminist and she doesn't want to be the woman that's advocating for women's rights and leads the path for the future generation of women. She wants to be the man at the top. Her motto is literally 'gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, greenhouse gases'.

Another thing is her queer allyship. She's mentioned it when and only when it was profitable to her. During her tour she hadn't said a thing when the number of states signed anti-trans bills and the state of Tennessee where she says she lives *according to her own documentary* banned drag. I don't think she said anything about the anti-abortion legislation either. Her activist era started and ended in 2019.

Don't get me started on her position regarding the BLM movement. She only posted something because her own fans started calling her out and then declared that she's 'ferociously anti-racist'. She positioned herself as an advocate *by herself* and then immediately dipped when it stopped being as profitable. If you don't want to be dragged for your silence about social and political crises, don't proclaim yourself as an activist. Simple as that.

I've also seen the video on Youtube about TS being a narcissist (someone posted it on your blog earlier I think). And the guy in the video brought up her guitar teacher. So I looked him up and found an article where he talks about his experience with the Swifts which he got sued for later. According to the man, Taylor's mother was interested in him teaching her daughter how to play country music and was just a stage mom in general. And TS says that she'd been begging her parents to allow her learn how to play guitar and that she's self-taught. She wants her success story to be a rags to riches so bad I can't even.

She's a woman with an extremely fragile ego where millions of people could be praising her and a single negative comment would set her off. She can't handle any form of criticism, break ups or inconveniences like a grown woman simply because she doesn't have enough emotional intelligence to do so. Her being surrounded by yes men also doesn't help the situation. If i were her, I'd rather invest in a good therapist rather than 2 PJs. She drowns herself in work and relationships so she doesn't have time to go inwards and sit with her thoughts.

I kinda feel bad for her, honestly. She's been in the industry since she was 15 and her success was almost immediate. She doesn't know what the world's like because she's been sheltered her whole life and then had other people do things for her. I don't think she has many real friends as well. By real I mean people who aren't afraid to tell you the truth and are able to call you out in your face. Instead she has a bunch of people who appease her afraid of pissing her off and ending up on her bad side and as a result her vanity grows and she completely loses any sort of perspective whether in her friendships, romantic relationships or maybe even her own family.

I also wonder what she thinks about her fandom pirating her concert film instead of paying to rent it. I sort of hope that her fans are starting to wake up to her conning schemes. I mean, you've already made a shit ton of money from the theatre release, why charging 20$ more to RENT IT?Not even buy it. Or is it another narrative about how 'no one can own my work but me'?

This woman sells well but her cultural impact is almost nonexistent. She hadn't done any good for the world causes or inspired several generations of performers like Michael Jackson has with his philanthropic endeavors and incredible performing skills. The artists like Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars, Justin Timberlake (bleh) and The Weeknd were hugely influenced by MJ. These artist create their own unique legacy and impact on their communities. Especially the ladies. Gaga's been an avid LGBT+ advocate since the beginning of her career and created a foundation that focuses on issues like self-confidence, well-being, anti-bullying, mentoring and career development. She also participated in anti HIV and AIDS campaigns, spoke against immigration laws in the US, contributed to 2011's earthquake and tsunami relief campaign in Japan. Beyoncé's a huge advocate for the black community and black women especially which always finds its way in her work and visual art in particular. She's been platforming black culture and history for her whole career (2016 Superbowl and Coachella performance are the brightest examples of black american culture and releasing her Lion King album to showcase African artists' excellence). She also has a foundation where she provides black youth scholarships, clean water for communities abroad and housing to families in need in her home state.

What exactly makes Taylor Swift's cultural impact? Thousands of tons CO2 emissions? Music labels putting a clause in the contract so the artists can't re-record their material for 10 years now instead of 5? Making several versions of the same CD or vinyl so the sales are bigger? Mind you, that's all excessive plastic and paper. Some countries and US states are banning gas stoves. Her position regarding artists being paid during the early days of streaming (when the platforms were launching with a free period tial) was right but no one really benefited from it but her. She was shitting on Apple Music, then they offered her money, filmed an ad and released her 1989 Tour DVD exclusively on their platform. She shat on Spotify, then when LWYMMD came out, she was all over their biggest playlists all of a sudden and recorded Spotify Singles later on. Spotify's always promoted her every release like a motherfucker shoving her in every corner of the platform. Especially for the past 3 years. She doesn't have any memorable outfits or unique style to be called a fashion icon either. She's not a trailblazer she thinks she is. She is only popular because a lot of people *mostly ww* who peaked in high school see themselves in her. She's average in everything she does, her writing topes are also the same (only now she started using compound or uncommonly used words to mask it) but she's extremely commercially successful so that those people can see themselves in her. She doesn't have unique music style or chameleon-like discography like Gaga, Bey, MJ, Madonna, Shakira, Kelly Clarkson, Miley Cyrus or Nelly Furtado. She doesn't have a unique singing voice like Bjork, David Bowie, Freddie Mercury, Janis Joplin, MJ or Bob Dylan. She's no instrument prodigy either. And swifties say that 'Michael couldn't play any instruments'. Well, he was an exceptional beatboxer. She can strum 4 guitar chords and play basic piano, that's it. She doesn't have an outstanding dancing and/or vocal skill.

What is she gonna be remembered for? Her numerous relationships with famous men? While that might be misogynistic or sexist to some degree, she's the one who makes her relationships the centre of her music and public persona and brings them up even 10 years after they ended. Her public feuds with men and women that she can't get over years after? This woman is certainly can hold a grudge and is extremely vindictive. The leader of a parasocial cult that blindly defends her bigotry? I believe so. I don't think I've ever seen a fandom as toxic and as hive-minded as swifties. And again, it's Taylor's own creation. She's the one that constantly says 'look closely for the easter eggs' in her content making her fans theorize on every aspect of her life, or 'if you're very loyal I might invite you to MY HOUSE and you can listen to the new album early, we'll take pics and I'll bake you some cookies'. Of course they'll follow your any order. I'm glad I escaped.

Oof, I'll stop here. That's a very long one already

sorry hehe

.

[chirpsythismorning]

This is separate from people making Noah’s coming out all about byler, without ever separating Noah from Will, because yes that’s weird. But also entirely expected, like that’s as fandom behavior as it gets.

But for the sake of making a point here, what’s the main argument people use for why byler won’t happen?

It’s that the Duffers are just two straight old white dudes and the actors playing the characters are two straight white dudes. And because of that they’re probably all homophobic so it’ll never happen and if anything the opposite, most messed up ending, is more likely.

Heteronormativity and the assumptions that everyone is definitively straight, until they explicitly say otherwise, is something homophobes depend on.

Now all the people with ignorant arguments like that can do after this news, is bitch about how no one cares that he’s gay and it’s not even a big deal… a concept Noah literally references in his TikTok.

Even though I think straight ppl mean well when they say who cares, they’re ignoring the fact that straightness is the default expectation in our society. And this puts a lot a weight on queer people’s shoulders their entire lives, to essentially live a lie until they finally get the courage to come out.

Noah admitted that it took him 18 years to come out to his family and friends bc he was too scared to.

The reality is straight ppl mostly don’t want to talk/think about it and that’s why they get upset with too much discussion about the possibility in terms of byler and Stranger Things in general.

Unfortunately for all the practicing homophobes in the fandom, they’re going to get a big lesson on heteronormativity and the reality that literally anyone could be/not be gay.

Your best friend. Your brother. Your mom. Your gramma… You.

And that’s what scares ppl who’ve been internalizing homophobia their whole lives. They don’t want to talk/think about it for a reason. And it has nothing to do with actual other queer people just existing, it’s what they’re scared it could or could not mean for them. And they are making a vow to themselves to never find out.

And it’s because they know how gay people are treated and they don’t want to be the butt of jokes like that. They want to belong with people that are ‘normal’ or the default in society. And so hearing those same homophobes try to downplay and discredit Noah for coming out, it’s honestly just sad. The cycle of homophobia/internalized homophobia is so fucking depressing and it affects all of us.

Idec about specific ships at this point, it’s sad that a lot of men/boys in our society still see being gay as a negative thing, something they have to distance themselves from. And by being homophobic, they feel like they’re successful in achieving that distance.

And as much as homophobes piss me off every now and then online and in real life… I know why they’re doing it. Because they’ve been rewarded for it all their lives. They’ve been told doing the opposite made them different.

People forget (or are just unaware I guess) that Noah literally clapped back at byler fans on Twitter post-s2, saying, “why can’t boys just be friends anymore??”… yeah he literally made a textbook Reddit argument… though he has since deleted it…

And so I do hope that future generations of boys and girls are going to feel more comfortable accepting themselves, making it easier for us to be willing to look inward and not be scared and to eventually maybe get to a point where we don’t even have to come out as queer, we can just love who we love and it just is.

But that’s just not reality at this time.

And so yes I’m relieved that Noah himself was comfortable enough to share this with the world and didn’t spend anymore time hiding his sexuality, assuming he wanted to be out!

[herdiex]

Why do we love to hate?

in 2020, when i was 12, i LOVED dream's videos, as lots of young people did and still do. then i heard maybe a year later that he did something wrong, i didnt even know what exactly, then i spent much of my time judging my friends who still liked dream since 'he did something wrong'.

i feel that this experience happened a lot to me a few years ago - I'd hear about something bad someone online did and immediately hop on the hate train. don't get me wrong, there is MANY online that are worth hating, because lots of people, especially those who are famous, suck. But, I'd hear some vague rumor about someone sucking and be happy to immediately start hating them; even if it was someone that i'd liked briefly??

for a long time this confused me deeply after i grew out of that mindset. why would i WANT to hate someone, someone who i'd actually been a fan of at points? i don't think im alone in this experience, and my best guess is that certain sectors of the internet, like the ones i'd spend my time in, breed this negativity. these'd be the kind of people nowadays spending their time on twitter getting pissed about random stuff.

throughout history, people love to hate. it's the reason why gossiping with your friends brings you closer to them, and making fun of someone does the same thing. in a weird kind of way, hating, depending on why, makes us feel really good? everyone has something different that they might hate, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone in the world that doesn't hate SOMETHING.

well, why does hating make us feel so good? i'd love to hear your opinion, but i think its because it just gives us something to be angry at other than ourselves. as drew gooden, a youtuber i love says in his video 'Why is Everybody Mad About Everything', "it feels really fuckin good to be angry sometimes", because it distracts us from ourselves. if we're constantly pissed off about something going on in the world, we don't have the time to be pissed off at our own situations, our own selves, because who wants to be mad at something so sad when we can be mad about some internet shit?

genuinely looking inwards will ALWAYS be harder than finding some source to take your anger out on - but i hope this post makes you think about what you might be angry at right now, and helps you reflect - why am i actually angry about this?

[hikennosabo]

trimax vol 8 random thoughts

i feel like i'm still emotionally caught up in volume 7 lmao... but we march on! mercifully i have less to say about this one than the previous volume, but this still turned out pretty long lol. maybe i should split my posts up more...

chapter 1:

the cross in the foreground of the title page... lmao. subtle storytelling techniques.

we know legato's skill is controlling someone else's body, we've seen him do it before. however. i've been rewatching bits of stampede here and there, in which his power is more like... idk, general application telekinesis? for example, he uses his power to affect the engine on the sandsteamer. it's not that important i suppose but it's a change i'm wondering about.

this has me wondering. what's the relationship like between humans and plants on earth? it's been brought up a few times that humans stripped the earth of its resources. so is it just as exploitative? ...does knives plan on "saving" the plants on earth, too...?

meanwhile, wolfwood... wait a sec, is this...? --IT IS!!!

THE RETURN OF WOLFWOOD'S STUBBLE!!! THANK GOD!!!

...ahem. i mean, the poor man looks exhausted and miserable. but fr i missed his stubble so much, i was sad when he showed up clean shaven way back in trimax vol 1 lol.

...aaaand then the stubble is absent again. glad to have that one panel though.

okay, wolfwood intermission over, back to the conversation between vash and knives. everyone's already said so much about it already, and i've already gone over some parts of it, so i don't think i'm really adding anything here... but i want to talk about some aspects of it that didn't really fit into my other post.

i touched on this in my volume 7 post. vash wants to wait, knives doesn't. and this is interesting to me, because... knives isn't actually wrong here? we saw the Last Run along with knives, we've seen how badly plants are treated. vash answering "that's the way it is" seems, i don't know... passive? like, knives's actions aren't GOOD, but i think his sense of urgency is a little warranted compared to vash just wanting to... wait it out?

and as we know, the reason why humans were trying to emigrate to a new planet in the first place was BECAUSE their resources on earth had run dry. so knives isn't really wrong about that either.

also, the page has already been posted a million times, so i won't repost it again, and also i've already said this, but vash getting so emotional at the mention of tesla that he breaks out of legato's control is crazy. he already fought against legato's control to crawl his way to knives and it wasn't even the full extent of his will.

also "don't you turn away from me, knives!" ...i'm repeating myself atp but god. he just sees right through him, doesn't he.

his ass is not listening at all. knives, honey, he's saying YOU need to look inward!!! vash can see right through you and he's telling you that you failed at truly facing your pain!!! BUT YOUR ASS IS NOT LISTENING!!

chapter 2:

and we're here with livio and wolfwood... livio's mouth doesn't really open when he talks so i can't tell when he's the one talking lol. he... didn't really say much in stampede.

livio is huge, what the hell! why'd they twinkify him so much in stampede!

i must say, so far i haven't met a trigun character that i didn't like. (aside from like, random unimportant one-off villains that i don't care about.) but i like everyone who's been important/recurring. even characters like legato and knives, with all they've done wrong, all of their genuinely heinous actions, i still love them. i get emotional about them and think they're well-written and interesting to think about. that being said... chapel is kinda pissing me off lmao.

^ men will literally do... whatever this is instead of going to therapy.

(also this page is giving sephiroth vibes lol... this isn't the first and won't be the last time i will make this comparison. he IS a very sephiroth-like character.)

the chaos and destruction?! THIS IS ALL HAPPENING SO FAST HELP, ALL THIS AND A SEVEN MONTH TIMESKIP??

OH, WHAT A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES!! i didn't realize how much i missed them until they showed up... :') and yay, luida's here too!

chapter 3:

oh, even brad is back!! :) (i recently rewatched the episode of 98 where he DIES... crossing my fingers he makes it to the end of the manga lol)

meryl... ough :( i wish we could've seen her grapple with and work through all the trauma, talk with milly about it, etc... on top of having to face the sudden apocalypse... gal's been through so much. and she hasn't been able to talk with vash about what happened, the last time they saw each other was... well, it was a rough parting, to say the least. we didn't see her journey but we see her here, on the other side. more tired than before but still moving forward, able to talk honestly about the trauma she faced, and doing what she can to help people. she is so... cool.

also knives keeps making people just Vanish Outright like what is he doing exactly? eating them?? (<- this is a joke but actually.)

the plant memory... knives was brought to his knees by it. and his expression... ough

KNIVES BREAKDOWN.... 2!!!!!!

two breakdowns in two volumes... uaaagh, the effect of his face splitting apart is so GOOD. although i can't tell if the plants are deliberately showing him this, or if it's more of a side effect from absorbing so many...

and yeah, thinking about ordinary people, of course they wouldn't be the ones abusing plants. they don't have the power or authority to do so, especially not at a large scale. but knives doesn't see that - or hasn't seen it until now, rather - and thinks all humans are the same. so the real solution is to dismantle the structures that allow for plant abuse.

ELENDIRA MY BELOVED!! SHE'S SO COOL <333

also i LOVE the image of ww and legato that we end the chapter on. ww gets so many cool compositions, man.

chapter 4:

OUAGH, I LOVE WOLFWOOD. legato i love you baby but you deserved to get shot. also vash using his angel arm to escape...!! i mean, it's not like he has any other weapons he CAN use, but it's still... new to see him willingly using it like this.

I LOVE THE COMPOSITION HERE!!! IT'S SO GOOD!!! the "amen" shaped like a cross? INSANE... and livio's face being in shadow so we only see the skull mask... this panel is SO good

i don't have that much to say about the fight... it's painful to watch. i already know ww and livio's history from stampede, and i don't know how much more of it we're going to get here in the manga, but juxtaposing scenes of young livio against his current self is... all we really need to know. and i love wolfwood's prayer so much, it's just... so sincere and desperate.

i'm absolutely flabbergasted by the level of vashwood. everything about this is so fucking romantic, holy shit.

like. just the act of shielding ww is romantic in and of itself, but. also the fact that he answered ww's prayer. and that vash has been so afraid of his own power, which he's now using to protect... ugh. and their brief banter on the page directly after this is so good.

AND THIS IS JUST. SO GOOD. vash doesn't care about his own life, but HE CARES ABOUT WOLFWOOD!! SO MUCH!! oooggghh THE VASHWOOD OF IT ALL!!!

and then he uses his angel arm again, and it's the fanciest it's ever been... powered up with love... he has full control over it now.

but also, i already talked about this line in my other post, but knives begging vash not to go and saying "we only have each other"...i only talked about knives's feelings in that post - it's true for him. he only has vash. but vash has other people who he loves and who love him. and that love is why vash is doing what he's doing right now. maybe it's what knives was reacting to, when he touched vash with his feather... he realized he couldn't make vash stay. and that's why the end of the chapter says "it's over." just put me in the microwave already. ugh. i should've put this in my other post but i'm having Revelations in real time as i write lmao.

chapter 5:

oh hey! this is the first appearance of the little glass vial (a little glass vial? A LITTLE GLASS VIAL!!) that tristamp ww was constantly drinking from! aka the biggest death flag known to man. i was wondering when we'd see them.

also, ww is finally being honest and telling vash about himself...! :') it's all stuff i already knew from watching stampede, but still... it's rough. and the way stamp adapted it made it even more horrific and grotesque. ww looks, idk, around 14 or so? he was robbed of some pretty important years... i think his mind has more or less caught up to his body by now, but even if he wasn't a victim of experimentation, his childhood would've been cut short either way. it was already cut short the moment he was given a gun...

JUST HOW MANY WW DEATH FAKEOUTS ARE THERE GONNA BE. YOU CAN'T FOOL ME WITH THEM. two within a few pages of each other... is anyone keeping a tally?

VASH BLANKIE MODE!!! he even has slippies on... :') he's cozy

also wolfwood burrito :')

AND OH, MARLON'S BACK TOO!! i didn't expect to see him again, i'm just as happy as vash that he's here, lol. so many old characters coming back! and oh, meryl... :') they haven't seen each other since that day, and maybe vash thought she never wanted to see him again... this small gesture of hers was a massive relief to him. no words needed.

chapter 6:

okay since this is a spinoff/bonus chapter how are we counting the numeration. is this chapter 51. the trigun wiki says it's 50.5 but i know the wiki sucks ass so... (not like it matters...)

simple yet effective way of telling us roughly when this takes place - this was before he met vash. i love how this is where he got his "priest" schtick from, just... rolling with maylene's assumption and then carrying on with it lol.

this just hurts, especially coming right after ww's flashback. his life was put on rails the moment EoM took him.

ALSO BABY WW SOOOOOOOO CUTE

MY SON

ehhh... i don't really have that much to say about this chapter that hasn't been said already... it's an interesting look at ww pre-vash. and the villain is annoying lol

there's a lot that can be said of this chapter and ww's views on freedom, and i think other people have already done that better than me. but this panel sums up his priorities very concisely. no regard for his own wishes, doing as he's told, going "quietly" along... it's better inside the cage.

ummmm. i'm not ready for volume 9.

[kasienda]

A Miraculous Reveal - Rocketear

Nino pressed the play button for what had to be the twelfth time just in the past hour. His stomach had long ago turned to lead, so he felt almost nothing when the short clip began again.

Chat Noir dropped to the ground, and then twisted impossibly to the right in an acrobatic move that would have been impossible without a miraculous. Every time, Chat Noir managed to stay just out the past of each explosive blue tear that shot past.

Chat Noir was shouting something at the akuma, and Nino wished for the hundredth time that the security footage had audio. But whatever Chat Noir said had pissed the akuma off.

Which was just par for the course with Chat Noir. Get the akuma blinded with rage and it was just that much easier to goad them into a mistake.

But the next frame was not in the regular Chat Noir playbook. No, in his next move Chat Noir collapsed his baton, held it in front of himself in surrender, dropped it to the ground, and then just stood there!

Nino didn’t let himself look away as the next two tears struck Chat Noir in the chest, sending the hero flying into a parked van. The force of impact was so great, the van was caved inward and almost tipped over. Chat Noir fell face first to the ground, and then didn’t move.

Tears fell from Nino’s eyes.

He didn’t understand. Why hadn’t Chat Noir fought him? Why had he dropped his weapon and just surrendered like that?!

Nino had witnessed Chat Noir take dozens and dozens of hits in footage Alya had collected over the years. And Carapace had seen Chat Noir take hits first hand before. But in all of that, Nino had never seen anything like this.

Because Chat Noir’s sacrifices always served some purpose! He was protecting the team, or Ladybug! Or at very least, providing a distraction or stalling for time.

But here, he had just taken the beating.

Nino’s fist slammed into his desk.

It didn’t make any sense!

Read on Ao3

“Nino?” His mother’s voice called. “You okay?”

“Yeah, ma. I’m fine!” he called back, forcing himself to take a deep breath, tracing the protective charm Ladybug had gifted him with after his most recent akumatization. He had already gotten himself worked up enough watching this video to know for a fact that the charm worked.

The butterfly hadn’t been able to reach him, but man, it had tried.

But Nino knew that even with the protection he couldn’t continue like this. He had to do something. He had to fix it somehow.

He pulled out his phone, and immediately dialed his girlfriend.

“Hey Al?” he winced when his voice cracked.

“Nino? You okay?”

“Yeah, totally fine, babe. I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Anything I can do, you know I will!” she sing-songed back.

His lips stretched into a genuine smile. It was amazing that she could make him feel better in so few words without even knowing he needed it.

But then, maybe she did know.

“Do you think you could get a message to Chat Noir for me?”

“I don’t know. I could try.”

“What about Ladybug?”

“I could pull that off more easily. Why?”

“I just… can you tell her that I would like to talk to Chat Noir?”

“Yeah sure. Do you want her to tell him what it’s about?”

“I just… I want to say sorry,” and his voice cracked again.

“Nino,” she scolded. “I told you not to obsess over that clip.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t listen.”

She sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have posted it.”

“If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have even hesitated,” he countered.

“But you promised not to obsess over it!”

“That was before I had seen it!” he countered. “If it was you, you know you’d be just as obsessed.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I’ll send your message, but I don’t know how long it will be before Chat Noir hears it.”

“Thanks, Babe. You’re the best! I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

…

Chat Noir sat on the top of the Eiffel Tower, gazing into the distance without actually looking at anything.

“Chaton? Did you hear me?”

He shook himself from his thoughts, and turned towards his partner with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Yes, yes of course. Nino Lahiffe. I know of him.”

“He gave me his address, and was hoping you would stop by when you have the chance? I think he feels bad about Rocketear.”

He took the slip of paper from her. Despite the fact that his father had never once let him stay over at Nino’s, Adrien didn’t need the address. He knew exactly where Nino lived.

“I… umm… I’ll think about it.”

“He’s a really nice guy, just so you know,” Ladybug told him. And he smiled softly at her warm tone. She clearly thought highly of his best friend. Which made sense, as she had apparently selected Nino to be a temporary hero.

And after watching Nino face Anansi without any powers at all, it was no wonder that Nino had stood out to her. And despite some initial reservations at having yet a new person on the team, Chat Noir had always gotten along fairly well with Carapace.

It was too bad Nino clearly didn’t feel the same way.

“And between us, he’s Carapace, so it’d be nice if the two of you could clear the air so we can all continue working as a team.”

Normally, he’d be thrilled that Ladybug had trusted that detail to him even though he already knew. But he was very distracted these days.

“Thanks, LB,” he said, distantly. “For passing along the message,” he said.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her face full of concern.

He shrugged. “Yes, of course. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to, though I fear I’m not the best conversationalist tonight.”

He hadn’t been a very good conversationalist for about a week now.

Since Rocketear.

“Okay, well, let me know if you need to talk about anything.”

He nodded, and smiled. Despite his promise to himself to be more open and vulnerable with her, that just sounded impossibly exhausting at the moment. “Thank you.”

“Good night, Chaton!” she said with a cheerful wave.

He made himself wave back with another smile of his own. Once she was gone, he found himself taking the familiar route to Nino’s apartment building.

It wasn’t the first time he had perched on this particular building’s rooftop. It wasn’t even the first time he had done so since Rocketear.

But just like all the other nights he had been here, he didn’t even try to go inside.

He wanted to clear the air. He did. And now with Nino’s invitation, it wouldn’t even be weird for Chat Noir to show up at Nino’s bedroom window.

But he was terrified that he couldn’t actually explain anything, and that if he tried everything would get worse, and he would feel even weirder around his best friend than he already did.

And Adrien didn’t want to lose what little he had left with Nino the same way he didn’t want to lose what little he had left with Ladybug.

And so, he didn’t jump down two stories below, and he didn’t tap on Nino’s window. He just remained on the rooftop rehearsing all the things he wasn’t allowed to say.

…

Adrien and Nino sat next to each other in the courtyard during a break between classes. Alya walked by and pecked Nino on the cheek. “Just wanted you to know that the cat got your message.”

“Oh, awesome! Thanks, babe!” Nino said, his face lighting up in a huge smile.

She smiled back. “Anytime, babe.” And then she was running to catch up with Marinette.

“The cat?” Adrien repeated, purposely scrunching his eyebrows together to imply confusion.

“Chat Noir,” Nino explained easily.

“Why?”

Nino sighed. “Uh… Because I beat the crap out of him,” he said, looking away under the guise of straightening his hat. “He didn’t deserve that.”

“You were an akuma,” Adrien said. That fact should excuse all of Rocketear’s actions.

Of course, it was Nino’s words before he had been akumatized that still haunted Adrien.

“Did you watch the footage?” Nino asked.

“No.”

That was an akuma battle that Adrien definitely did not want to relive.

“It wasn’t a normal akuma.”

And now Adrien was actually confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I had a personal vendetta specifically against Chat Noir. I wasn’t just trying to take his miraculous. I wanted to hurt him. And I did hurt him,” Nino said, turning away, his expression tight.

Adrien put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m sure the ladybugs healed him. He’s okay.”

Nino shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

Adrien nodded. “You’re right. I don’t. Explain it to me?”

“You know all that stuff I told you in the boiler room?”

“That Chat Noir is obnoxious and flirts too much?”

Adrien couldn’t forget.

“None of that is true! I was just afraid,” Nino said, burying his head in his hands.

“Afraid of what?” Adrien asked.

“That I was going to lose the most important person in my life.”

And god, Adrien could definitely relate to that.

“Anyway, I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I just… I dunno. I want a chance to make it right.”

“Chat Noir doesn’t know you said all those things about him, though.”

Nino stared at him for a moment, before finally shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, dude. I know I said those things.”

Well, apparently Nino was just as haunted by that conversation as Adrien. And while Adrien was still terrified to risk what friendship they had, he was more willing to risk it for Nino’s potential peace of mind than his own.

…

Nino opened his window the second he arrived home from school, and just sat on his bed waiting. Well, hoping, really. He only had confirmation that Chat Noir had heard his message, but none that the hero would actually pay him a visit.

Who was a random akumatized civilian to Chat Noir, anyway?

There were probably dozens of others who wanted to talk to Chat Noir after being akumatized. Why would he pay any attention to Nino?

Sure, he was Carapace, but Nino was unclear on whether Chat Noir even knew that.

Nino sighed. He was fooling himself, wasn’t he? There was almost no chance that Chat Noir would pay him a visit.

He left his window open anyway.

He wandered to his desk and flipped open his laptop, only to be confronted with the frozen frame of Rocketear pummeling Chat Noir into that white van.

His forehead dropped to the desk. Nino wished he had never seen the footage, wished he had never caught sight of Chat Noir on Alya’s balcony, wished that he had just talked to Alya when things seemed off instead of letting his fears take over.

A throat cleared behind him.

Nino jumped a meter out of his chair, and whirled around. Chat Noir stood silently, looking completely out of place in the dead center of Nino’s small room.

“Rumor has it that you wanted to talk to me,” he said.

“My dude! Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” Nino exclaimed, clutching his chest.

“Sorry,” Chat Noir said brusquely. “I was under the impression I was invited?”

The hero didn’t so much as crack a smile.

Nino shuffled awkwardly to his feet, pulling on his own shoulder. “Y-yeah, thanks for coming. I really appreciate it. Do you wanna take a seat?”

Chat Noir glanced around the room, his eyes lingering for a second on the chair Nino had just been sitting in, and then the bed before coming back to Nino’s face. “I’m okay where I am. Thank you,” he said, as stiff and cold as Adrien’s old man.

Nino’s pulse boomed in his throat, his nerves deciding to turn the volume up to eleven. He searched for something to say. He had known five minutes ago what he wanted to say. He had blurted half of it to Adrien earlier in the day, and now he suddenly didn’t know where to begin.

Not with those strange green eyes staring straight at him.

Not when Chat Noir’s face, twisted into agony as Rocketear relentlessly tossed him around, flashed easily through his mind’s eye ten times every hour.

Chat Noir seemed to relax. He even offered a small smile. “You don’t have to apologize for what your akuma did, you know. It’s not your fault.”

Nino was already shaking his head, though he was grateful for the jumping off point. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but this is different.”

“It isn’t,” Chat said firmly.

“It is!”

Chat Noir frowned in clear disapproval. “Akumas are victims, Nino. They are not responsible for their actions. Hawkmoth is responsible.”

Nino clutched his head, pressing down on his hat firmly. “It’s my fault for jumping to conclusions so quickly and letting myself get akumatized over it in the first place. You didn’t deserve anything that I thought or said about you.”

Chat Noir shrugged. “Maybe not, but it’s still understandable.”

“How?!”

“You were afraid.”

“Afraid of what?!”

“Of losing one of the most important people in your life,” Chat Noir said. Nino couldn’t argue with that exactly. Hadn’t he said exactly this to Adrien earlier? But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to. He didn’t want Chat Noir to be understanding and kind. He wanted the hero to be angry.

It’s what Nino deserved.

But the way Chat Noir said it, Nino knew he was speaking from experience.

Who was Chat Noir afraid to lose?

Or had he already lost someone?

“I’m still sorry.”

Chat Noir smiled. “Thank you for saying that. It really means a lot to me. Most akuma victims don’t even think to worry about Ladybug or myself.”

That didn’t make Nino feel any better.

Chat Noir nodded and turned, as if to leave.

But it was too soon. He couldn’t leave yet! Nino wasn’t done!

“I watched the footage,” Nino blurted rapidly before Chat Noir could reach the window.

Chat turned back and nodded. “Okay.”

“You didn’t fight me.” Nino just didn’t get that!

Chat Noir winced.

“In the beginning, you dodged everything that I threw at you, but you never fought back. And then you just threw down your weapon, and you… just took the hits.” And Nino was trying to stay calm, to keep his voice even, but his whole body was trembling, and he wasn’t sure if he was pulling it off.

“Why?” Nino demanded when the hero still said nothing.

“You were hurting,” Chat said softly.

“So is every other akumatized victim! You still fight them!” Nino snapped, pointing dramatically to his computer screen that was still on the frozen image of Chat Noir slamming into the van.

Chat Noir glanced at the screen. His expression remained stoic.

Nino couldn’t imagine not fighting against an akuma.

Maybe if it was Alya, or even Adrien or Noël, and evening then, Nino couldn’t picture it unless he had been the one to hurt them somehow.

His brain stuttered on that thought. Chat Noir hadn’t been able to bring himself to fight Rocketear. Hadn’t wanted to fight him.

Nino’s eyes shot open wide, and locked onto the hero standing in front of him.

Chat Noir cared about him.

More than he should.

“Who am I to you?” Nino asked.

Chat Noir stumbled half a step back, as if Nino had physically pushed him. “Wh-what?”

“Who am I to you?” Nino repeated, more confident that he was onto something.

“You can’t actually expect me to answer that.”

“But I’m someone,” Nino concluded.

Chat Noir’s silence was deafening.

Fuck!

Chat Noir being a friend underneath his mask made the whole situation a million times worse.

Especially if…

Nino squashed the thought before it could fully form. He couldn’t face that guilt. He felt guilty enough already.

“God! I’m so sorry!” he cried out, beating back the burn in his eyes that threatened tears. “I’m sorry that I was able to think the worst of you! That I blamed you for my relationship problems when you had nothing to do with any of it.”

“You already said all that.”

“Yeah, well! I’m saying it again!” Nino exclaimed. “Maybe you’ll hear it this time! And I need you to promise me something else!”

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me that you’ll always fight back.”

Chat Noir’s shoulders softened. “Nino…”

“I don’t care if it’s me, or the person you care about most in this world! You fight back!”

And suddenly, Nino was crying. He stumbled backwards onto his bed. He crashed onto the mattress heavily.

“If I am someone to you, you’re probably someone to me, too,” Nino sobbed. “And I need him to be okay. You got it?”

Chat Noir sat down slowly on the bed beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Got it.”

Nino nodded acknowledgement of the promise even as he suddenly couldn’t meet the hero’s eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” Chat Noir asked.

And god! Chat Noir sounded so meek and uncertain when he asked that question. He didn’t sound like a hero at all.

He sounded a lot like someone else.

Nino squeezed his eyes shut.

“So are you?” Chat asked again.

“Yes!” Nino roared.

The vulnerability on Chat Noir’s face transformed instantly into a mask of stoicism.

“I’m pissed, dude! I just… I don’t understand why you would just take those hits like that! Do you have a death wish or something?”

Chat Noir just sat there, looking like a kicked puppy more than anything. And that really pissed Nino off!

“You’re doing it again!” Nino raged.

“Doing what again?”

Nino threw his hands up in frustration. “You’re just taking the heat. You’re not fighting back!”

“But it’s not like you’re wrong.”

Nino threw his hands up in frustration. “Gah! You’re just like Adrien!”

Chat Noir recoiled violently, like Nino had physically struck him.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

It was him, wasn’t it?

That means he had heard… everything.

What had he told Adrien about Chat Noir exactly? That he was annoying and an obnoxious slut, and everyone thought so?

Even Ladybug?

Fuck!

“Is that a bad thing?” Chat Noir asked softly. “I thought… I thought Adrien was your best friend?”

Nino almost started crying at the question. He wanted to be Adrien’s best friend, but he didn’t particularly feel he deserved the title at the moment.

But Chat Noir was looking at him expectantly, his hand fisted into Nino’s comforter, waiting for Nino’s ax to fall.

And if Nino said the wrong thing, the hero would just take it. He would never say a word. Would just absorb the hurt like he had every time. He’d come into class as Adrien the next day and put on a smile like he was none the wiser.

So Nino considered his words carefully. If his growing suspicion was right, it might be one of the most important things Nino had ever said to him. And if he was wrong, well, it wouldn’t matter.

“Adrien is my best friend. I love him so much! Around Adrien, I can just be myself. I’m never too weird or too awkward. The dude is just so earnest and excited to share anything and everything with anyone who is there! And it’s so easy and so fun to hang out with him.”

Nino couldn’t read Chat Noir’s expression. Especially when the hero glanced away. But he prayed that some of what he told Chat Noir about Adrien might heal all the hurt he had caused by telling Adrien about Chat Noir.

That was if they were one and the same. Nino knew better than to ask.

“Adrien deserves the best this world has to offer, and everyone in his life just keeps falling short. His father is awful. And his friends don’t really get how hard his life is. Even me,” he said, thumping his chest. “I don’t get it all the time, but I am getting better.”

And maybe he had finally caught the missing puzzle piece.

Nino grabbed for Chat Noir’s hand. The hero let him take it.

”The thing about Adrien that’s hard for me is that he’s so good at just taking crap, and somehow even better at hiding it. I am so scared that something’s going to happen to him. That his asshole father will do something truly awful or some girl will blow past what he’s comfortable with. And I won’t even know how badly he’s hurting and then I won’t be able to help him. I’m terrified I won’t see it and he won’t tell me, and then he’ll keep on hurting when he deserves so much better.”

Nino clutched onto Chat Noir’s hand so hard, he would’ve worried he might break it if the hero hadn’t been transformed.

“Because I want to be there for him. I want to fix things for him. And most of the time I can’t. And it makes me feel so useless!”

“I’m sorry,” Chat whispered.

“Don’t apologize! My point is, you’re like that, too! You’re so good at taking the hits, so good at hiding how much I know it has to affect you that I’m worried for you, too!! And that’s when I barely can keep up with worrying about him!”

“I don’t mean to stress you out.”

Nino laughed, but it had a hysterical edge to it. “Are you serious right now, dude?! You’re apologizing for stressing me out? You like, protect the whole fucking city on a daily basis from an emotional terrorist. The rest of us can fucking deal with some added stress.”

This time Chat Noir actually grinned - the expression stretched across his face, as bright as the sky on a clear, cloudless day. Some of the tension Nino had been feeling ever since he had watched the Rocketear footage dissipated.

“But even if his problems stress me out sometimes, it’s only because I love the dude. He’s totally and completely worth it. He makes my life better just by being in it. I don’t want you to walk away thinking Adrien’s some kind of burden. He isn’t!”

“But it does frustrate me when he takes everyone else’s bullshit the same way it frustrates me that you would just take the hits from the akuma without fighting back. Does that make any sense?”

“Y-yeah,” Chat Noir said, his voice cracking on the word. “Th-thanks for explaining all that. I… didn’t understand.”

Nino searched his face, looking for any reaction to Nino’s words.

“So, in the future, I would consider it a personal favor if you would fight back against any and all akumas instead of trying to reason with them.”

Chat Noir laughed. “Okay, fair. I’ll try.”

“Try?!” Nino repeated, clearly affronted. “Like, why would you ever try to reason with an akuma?”

“It worked when Alya did it!” Chat Noir snapped back defensively. “You threw that akuma off yourself! I’ve ever seen anyone do that before.” And then Chat Noir grinned. “It was awesomely impressive, dude,” he added softly, giving Nino a gentle shoulder bump.

Nino was quiet for a moment. “It probably would have worked with Adrien, too,” he added, his voice just as quiet.

Chat Noir snorted. “If that was true you wouldn’t have been akumatized in the first place!”

Nino’s eyes shot over to Chat Noir’s. Nino had suspected, yes. But he knew better than to ask, and he hadn’t actually expected Chat Noir to confirm it.

Apparently Chat Noir hadn’t either given how rigid he was, with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment, as if he prayed hard enough, he could take back that last sentence.

Nino’s heart twisted painfully in his chest even though he already suspected.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

“It’s actually you,” Nino said, his eyes welling with tears. Nino tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming. And then, he was the one crumpling like paper as sobs overtook him.

“Nino?”

Chat Noir grunted as Nino practically body slammed into him sideways, his arms clamping around him like a vice.

Chat Noir managed to steady them both before they crashed to the floor. He wasn’t a superhero for nothing.

“I’m so sorry!” Nino sobbed.

Chat Noir hugged him tighter.

“You didn’t know.”

Nino shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. I still hurt you.”

Chat Noir shook his head. “I hurt you first.”

Nino jerked away. “No, you didn’t! All that stuff I thought! All that stuff I said! None of it happened! None of it was true!”

“But you thought it was. And when I tried to make it better by paying Alya a visit, I made it worse.”

“That doesn’t make you responsible for it. Alya and I were having our own issues and I didn’t understand what was actually happening. And I pinned it on you. I lashed out at you because I didn’t want to be mad at her.”

“I can take it.”

“Would you fucking cut that out?!” Nino snarled. “Didn’t we just talk about this?!”

Adrien completely caved in on himself under Nino’s censure. “Sorry,” he said meekly.

“I’m sorry, too,” Nino said. “I don’t mean to yell at you. I know that freaks you out.” Nino grabbed him by the shoulders. “I just need you to stop accepting whatever I say just because I’m angry, and actually hear what I’m saying.”

Chat Noir blinked at him dumbly.

“None of it was true,” Nino said again, his eyes flashing.

“None of it? Even the part about me being such an annoying slut that even Ladybug can’t stand me?”

Nino’s eyes welled with tears all over again. “Especially that.”

Chat Noir wouldn’t look at him. “I knew you were hurting. I knew that you didn’t really mean it, but I couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a grain of truth in it.”

Nino shook his head. “No, dude! There was no truth! I was just jealous and I felt threatened.” His head fell into his hands. “I wish I had figured you out like a week ago. Then, maybe I wouldn’t have been so stupid.”

“I wish you hadn’t figured me out at all.”

Nino tried not to feel hurt by that statement. He dropped his gaze, trying to push his pain away. He didn’t have the right to feel hurt that Adrien didn’t want him to know. Adrien had reason not to trust him.

“Does anyone know?” Nino asked.

Chat Noir shook his head. “There was one person, but… he doesn’t remember anymore. Since him, no one knew. Not until today.”

Nino’s chest tightened. That… that sounded awful. Adrien had been living up to both his father’s impossible demands while protecting the whole city from a magical terrorist at a moment’s notice. How had he managed all that? And no one knew? Not a single soul? Not even Ladybug?

What if something had happened?

Nino wanted to throw up.

“Did you want anyone to know?”

Chat Noir barked a laugh. It was bitter. Nino hated it. “I have always wanted Ladybug to know. But the Guardian, Ladybug, and my kwami have all made it very clear that if my identity is compromised, I have to give up the miraculous.”

“What?!”

“And I… I can’t, Nino,” Chat Noir broke off into sobs. The fucking hero of Paris crumpled into the fetal position on Nino’s twin sized bed, his body wracking like an earthquake. “I can’t go back to being trapped,” he sobbed. “And I… I don’t… I don’t want to l-lose Ladybug even if… even if… she doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Dude!” Nino objected. But he had no idea what to say or how to fix this. He was in so far over his head Nino was certain he might drown, but it was Adrien who was fucking Chat Noir. Nino was going to try.

He grabbed Chat Noir by the shoulders and yanked him back to a sitting position, but Chat Noir didn’t meet his gaze.

“Dude, look at me.”

Chat Noir squeezed his eyes closed harder, his form still shaking under Nino’s hold.

“Adrien,” he growled. “Open your eyes and look at me!”

Chat Noir’s eyes blinked open, though they were flooded with tears, so Nino doubted he could bring anything into focus, but whatever. “You’re going to hear me right now, okay?”

Chat Noir nodded.

“You are amazing and worthwhile and good! I know for a fact that we’d all be dead a hundred times if it wasn’t for Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir started to shake his head. “Lady-”

“No! Shut up! Don’t tell me Ladybug is more important or that she’d figure it out without you. She’s not! And she wouldn’t.” Nino then proceeded to rant about how Chat Noir was vital in taking down like a dozen different akumas, and God, Nino had never been more grateful for having a super-hero obsessed girlfriend than in that moment because how would he have been able to put all the evidence out of his head without Alya talking his ear off for hours at a time specifically about the working dynamic between Ladybug and Chat Noir. The roles they played in battle and how they supported each other.

Chat Noir continued to sit there, his eyes glassy, just taking in every word as Nino berated him about how important he was.

“I’m sorry that no one could see your pain, that no one knew you needed to hear stuff like this. I’m sorry that I missed it,” and now Nino’s throat was trying to close off, but he swallowed convulsively. He couldn’t stop talking. Not yet. “I am so mad at myself for not knowing, for not seeing, for adding to your pain when I didn’t know. I wish I had been a better friend.”

“Nino…” Chat Noir interrupted, finally finding his voice. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Nino barreled forward, ignoring the compliment. “I also want you to know that I’m sure if Ladybug knew that you were hurting or that you felt unneeded, she would feel just as awful as I do right now.”

“Nino, I don’t want you to feel awful. I don’t want her to feel awful either.”

“Well, too bad. You don’t get to decide how I feel. And I may be the best friend you’ve ever had, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better. And I’m going to try to do that.”

Chat Noir pulled him into a hug. “I… don’t know what to say.”

Nino squeezed him harder. “You don’t have to say anything, dude.”

“Thank you for saying all that. If… if Ladybug takes my miraculous, I think I’m still glad that you figured me out.”

“Dude! Ladybug won’t take it. She wouldn’t ever.”

“I know she didn’t take yours. But I think the rules are different for me.”

Nino froze. This was why Adrien had been so upset that he and Alya knew each other’s identities. Nino had never realized that people on the team couldn’t know.

“So we won’t tell anyone,” Nino assured.

Chat Noir smiled sadly. “Do you think you can keep that secret?”

“Yes!”

“Because you kinda spilled your guts to me the other day. Told me a ton of things you shouldn’t have told Adrien.”

Nino pressed his lips together. “You know that’s only because I trust you, don’t you?”

“And I’m touched. You have no idea! But I’m also Chat Noir and if there’s a vulnerability, Ladybug needs to know.”

“But I don’t want you to lose your miraculous either. No one will know about this from me. I will never say it out loud. Promise!”

“Even from Alya?”

And Nino knew in that moment, he could keep it a secret from Alya. He could if it was for Adrien.

Just like he could keep Alya’s secrets from Adrien.

He cared about them both that much.

“Look dude, Alya and I respect each other’s boundaries. Yes, we tell each other everything about ourselves. But if she realizes I know something, all I would have to say is that it’s someone else’s secret and she would respect it.”

Chat Noir sighed. “I’ll… ummm… think about it.”

“I don’t mean to ask you to lie to Ladybug, dude. I didn’t mean it that way. I just want you to know I’m with you either way.”

“Thank you, Nino.”

They grew quiet just sitting side by side on the bed, Nino finally feeling at peace with his own guilt. He still worried for Adrien. Obviously. But at least now, maybe Nino could be there for him.

Chat Noir opened his mouth for a second, only to close it again.

“What is it?” Nino prompted.

“She told someone her identity.”

“Well then, you should be fine!”

“I don’t know. Like I said, the rules have always been different for me.”

“That doesn’t seem right to me, dude.”

“Yeah.”

And Nino knew that Adrien was always going to struggle with confronting the girl he loved for any reason.

“Have you tried talking to her about that?”

Chat Noir’s free hand rubbed the back of his neck. “No? Well, I did tell her that I was afraid that not knowing her identity meant that one day she might just disappear and then, I would never know what happened to her.”

Nino sucked in a breath, his gut twisting painfully at those words. Ladybug probably had no idea that Chat Noir had already experienced someone just vanishing without a trace.

“What did she say?”

“That she would never abandon me,” Chat Noir repeated hollowly.

“That’s what your mom used to say when she was sick?”

“Yeah,” Chat said, and then he was crying again. “I’m so scared, Nino. I don’t know how I would handle it if something happened to her.”

“That’s why you’re so willing to sacrifice yourself for her during akumas?”

“Yeah… it makes her really mad sometimes.”

Nino pressed his lips together, silently agreeing with Ladybug.

“But when that fear strikes, nothing else matters. Not how mad she’s going to be. Not my friends or my father. Not even me. All that matters is that she’s okay. As long as that’s true, anything else is worth it. Anything.”

Nino didn’t like it. “Do you think you could become the next Hawkmoth?”

Chat Noir turned to him, his eyes wide in horror. “What?!”

Nino shrugged. “You said anything. So if Ladybug was somehow lost to you, do you think you could become the next Hawkmoth to find her again?”

“I…” and then the hero wilted. “No. I couldn’t do what Hawkmoth does.”

Nino smiled in relief. “I bet we could find her without terrorizing the whole city.”

“Huh?”

“If Ladybug is ever lost. Between you and Alya, we could find her.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, dude. I really do! I honestly believe the only reason the two of you haven’t already figured her out is because she doesn’t want you to, and you both respect that.”

“I don’t know. If she disappeared, would she even want me to find her?”

“Ladybug thinks the world of you, dude.”

Chat Noir snorted. “Did I tell you about the time she threw me into a trash can?”

Nino rolled his eyes. “If any of us say anything that could be interpreted even slightly off, she jumps down our throats.”

“Really?”

“Dude! I’m not even exaggerating.”

“So you said something off about me at some other point?” Chat Noir asked with arched eyebrows.

“Dude! That time I didn’t mean it like that! She just…”

Chat Noir started laughing.

“...interpreted it that way! And it wasn’t anything bad. You had told a joke. And all I had said was, I’ve heard that one before.”

“Maybe you had heard it before from me.”

Nino snorted in laughter. “Yeah, maybe. But you should have seen her glare. She looked straight at me and said with a tone cold as ice, “Chat Noir’s material is completely original, and absolutely hilarious. You’d best remember that.”

“She actually said that?”

“I swear to god! That’s exactly what happened. I’m sure Alya can tell you a ton of ridiculous stories about Ladybug getting all protective over her partner.”

“Really?”

“Dude! Really! Do you seriously think I’d lie about something like this? Get your hopes all up only to have them dashed later?”

“That would be rather cruel,” Chat Noir said with a playful grin.

Nino didn’t smile back. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that we care about you?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “Maybe it’s just scarier if you do.”

Nino sucked in a breath. “Fuck, dude.”

“I’m sor…”

“Nope! Nope! None of that.”

“I was scared to come here,” Chat Noir admitted.

“Why?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “I just… I already felt weird around you since what you said to me about Chat Noir. And I was scared that talking to you would make things worse. And that I might lose whatever friendship we had left.”

“What changed your mind?”

“It sounded this morning like you needed something that only Chat Noir could give you. And while I wasn’t willing to risk it for my own well-being, I wanted things to be okay for you again.”

Nino smiled. “Thanks, dude. I do feel much better now. How are you feeling?”

“I… I’m feeling raw, but… I think I’m glad I came. But ask me again if Ladybug takes my miraculous.”

“She won’t, dude. She won’t.”

“I’m glad one of us is confident. Say, do you have any cheese?”

Nino frowned. “Yeah? I think so. Why?”

“Plagg, claws in.”

There was a flash of green. And now it was Adrien sitting next to him, fidgeting in front of Nino all over again in obvious nerves, this time, sans mask, a floating cat kwami manifesting into his hands.

“This is Plagg,” Adrien introduced.

“Nice to meet you, kwami dude!” Nino said with a grin.

Plagg glared at him. “Did you apologize for all that crap you said to my chosen?”

Nino ducked his head down in shame. “Yes.”

Plagg’s whole demeanor changed instantly. “Great! Let’s have a party! You got any cheese?”

“I have always wanted to hang out here with you,” Adrien admitted, his eyes glancing around the room with undisguised eagerness.

Nino grinned. “Dude! Yes! We can make a tradition out of it! Let me run downstairs and get some stuff. Cheese you say?”

“For me!” Plagg said. “Camembert if you have it. I will not be sharing, so get some disgusting human food, too.”

Nino laughed. “You got it!” He tossed a controller to Adrien. “Get UMS started up while I’m downstairs.”

“Aren’t you terrible at this game?” Adrien asked.

“Only when playing against you or Marinette.”

“And Max.”

“Just for that, I’m going to beat your ass,” Nino called back as he ran downstairs, determined to show Adrien the time of his life even if that meant losing to him five or ten times in a row at Ultimate Mecha Strike.

For the first time since Nino had been akumatized as Rocketear, Nino was actually grateful that he had misconstrued everything between him and Alya because it had led him to this - a chance to know his best friend that much better, a chance to truly serve in Adrien’s corner.

And maybe, now that he knew that Adrien could abuse his powers to sneak out, they might have more unauthorized hang outs.

It was going to be awesome.

…

Continuation: Meddlesome Friends

[17wishbones]

Thank you all who have liked, reblogged, and commented on this Demon Slayer Quickie. Rengoku is just a breath of fresh air kind of character (as are the rest) but his time on screen still hurts. I’ll stop crying about and instead keep posting chapters. I hope to do so nightly or every other day. Let’s love him together! So here is more Rengoku goodness. - - - - - - -                                 CHAPTER III: UNNECESSARY APPROVAL

You sat next to Kyōjurō with your head drawn down. His father had a despicable aura pouring out from him and it made you bite your bottom lip from drawing into a frown. ‘Respect his father. Respect his father. Respect his father.’ You repeated in your head as a mantra.

“Father, _____ and I are engaged and to be wed at the end of this year!”

Rengoku Shinjurō scoffed while not even looking your or his son’s way. “Someone useless like you marrying someone worthless like her? Hmph! How sad.”

Your nails painfully dug through the hakama pants, daring to break skin. He really pissed you off. Rengoku answered him nonetheless. “Do not insult my soon-to-be-wife,” he spoke with a stern tone, taking his stance, “As she will be part of our family.”

Shinjurō shrugged his shoulders. “Do what you want. You’ll die against the demons anyways. What use will you be then? Go ahead and get yourselves killed.”

You bit your bottom lip hard this time, keeping your words to yourself in order to respect Kyōjurō but it hurt to see the pain in his eyes and it hurt you to the core. Here he was with a father and younger brother and the drinker acted like neither of them existed. Your existence be damned, but. . . you didn’t move a muscle until Rengoku moved.

Once removed from his presence, you were ready to burst into tears of anger. How could he, a former Hashira, talk down upon one of the best things in your life!?

“Don’t cry, My Sunflower!” He embraced you close. “I won’t let even his words dim my flames!”

“You’re too good for this world,” you murmured, “And I hate seeing you like that. It hurts to see a living parent not want to be with their kids.” You sniffled. “I wouldn’t put my children through that.”

“You mean, “our'' children, right?” He gently smooched your forehead.

“Our children,” you repeated, “How many did you want again?”

“Ten is a good even number!”

“Eh!? Ten!? How about you reconsider with three or four kids?”

“At a time? That sounds perfect!”

“That’s not how it works, Kyōjurō! And how will I work with so many kids?”

“You won’t have to worry as I will become a hard-working husband and father, to make sure my wife and children are well taken care of!”

“And I’ll get to be a big uncle!” Senjuro exclaimed as he came out of a nearby room, waiting on you both. “And how did Father take the news?”

You sharply turned your head. “Just as when I told him we both became Hashira - not great. Regardless! We are to wed before the end of this year, so our plans have not changed!”

Senjuro ran up and hugged you . “I can’t wait to have my big sister!”

“And I can’t wait to have you as my little brother, Senjuro.” When you looked into their vibrant eyes and loving smiles, you couldn’t ever imagine leaving them for anything. Not even he could make you run away. “I love you and your big brother so much. No matter what, I’ll never leave.”

Rengoku’s chest swelled with pride. “I am the luckiest man to have you as my wife! That’s why I will never stop fighting for you!” 

“And so will I!” Your enthusiasm made him bloom with desire. The time of the meeting was, unfortunately, so close, but if fate was on his side, they’ll be on a mission together this time.

“RENGOKU AND _____, MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE PILLAR MEETING!”

“Oh,” you gazed at the crow above, “It’s already time to go. We will be seeing you again soon, Senjuro.” You leaned down and gave him smooches on each side of his cheek. “You take care, okay?”

“I will!”

“What about me, Sunflower?” Rengoku asked. “I want three for good luck!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Come here.” One kiss, two kiss, three kiss, four…

“MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE PILLAR MEETING NOW!”

If it weren’t for the crow, you would still be at the Rengoku Estate, letting him pollinate your flower. “On the way!” You shouted. “Shall we?”

Happy, Rengoku held your hand and began leading the way. “Be good, Senjuro!” 

You felt so lucky that both brothers treated you as an equal, as someone who was loveable and desirable. For them, all of what you did was worth it.

‘Fingers crossed that we get paired together. Just have to get through this meeting-’

The sudden push of swarming auras met you at the corner, where the other Hashira gathered. You knew that feeling well. Some still rejected you, even though it was clear and evident that you had the strength and the drive to be a Flame Hashira. It frightened you at times, their inward feelings. You had wished to not be cursed with this kind of ability, however. . .

“Good morning, everyone!” Rengoku made the aura dissipate with every footstep, lighting an open path into the closed circle. Every step filled with purpose. Every word full of confidence. He refused to let your hand go as you both approached them. Shock still riddled them from his rooftop outburst last time. He truly meant every word, and he wanted them all to know that this was real, and it was happening.

Words and expressions were chosen over an exchange of Nichirin blades as fighting another as a Hashira went against the code. Ubuyashiki’s word was law, but if Rengoku had the opportunity if he were not loyal to the code, he’d challenge those opposing to a 1v1, square up or shut up, match.

“My children, good morning.”

You both released hands and knelt before Ubuyashiki’s arrival. “You have gathered as much information as you could, but even still, Muzan remains out of reach, and there have been more cases of demons arising. So, I will group you today.”

His words softened as the confines of your mind filled with indifference of your trip down in Asakusa. You considered another daring trip to see if you can find just anything that’d bring everyone closer to locating his whereabouts. Maybe even where a couple of the 12 Kizuki reside.

“Rengoku and _____, you’ll be heading back to Osaka. I heard you got very close to finding him, _____.”

“Yes, or so I’d like to think. A horde of demons erased his trail, and so I couldn’t follow it thereafter. I believe they sent them to put me off of his trail, and to have me dead.”

“That is why Rengoku will be your partner.”

“Thank you, Master! This arrangement is most suitable!” Rengoku couldn’t help smiling. For once, fate really was on his side!

Even though Ubuyashiki couldn’t see, he knew that the two of you connected. As two Flame Hashira, you both were going to be a force to be reckoned with. “Good. This concludes our meeting. Make haste to your next assignment.” - - - - - - - - -  Chapter: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

[addictofreading]

@zutaraweek

Zutara Week 2020 Day 3: Fuse

(Part 2/?)

Zuko had never been known for his calm and even temper. Even before his exile it wasn’t uncommon for him to blow up at someone when provoked. That it was a trait shared by most of his immediate family didn’t help him feel any better about it, especially when he knew half the palace staff was scared to even pass him in the halls when word got out he was angry. It was something he was working on and he usually accepted it as a process that took time.

Katara was not known for her temper. The other diplomats knew her as someone who was fiercely just, bold, confident, and passionate about her job. The palace staff treated her with proper respect while somehow still talking to her like she was one of their own. All smiles and gossip.

Obviously none of them had ever been on the receiving end of Katara’s fury when she was angry, but Zuko experienced enough to understand what she was really like.

The first time they had fought after they started dating he’d been scared he had ruined everything. That two people with short fuses could never make a happy relationship together and it was his fault for not having better control. The fight had been about something small and stupid, something that he would have tried to ignore but would definitely still eat away at him the longer it went not talked about. She had been the one to bring it up. The arguing started and then the yelling and then— to his amazement— the talking, a compromise and then before he knew it, laughing. The day had continued normally, only without the festering thing in the back of his mind from before, which had been replaced with another layer of appreciation for Katara.

They’d had a few small arguments since then, but they were easily worked through since their basic understanding was that they both really liked each other and wanted to stay together. Knowing that usually helped them not jump to any harsh conclusions.

But all this is to say that Zuko learned exactly what Katara was like when she was upset. Which was why, when she stormed into his office that morning all red faced glares and stomping feet (which probably would have looked adorable any other time), his first instinct was to rack his mind for anything he could have done to piss her off. His second instinct was to take stock of any liquids he had nearby as she had a tendency to waterbend without really thinking when her emotions got the better of her.

He couldn’t think of anything he did to get this reaction, so opted to stay quiet as he eyed her, slowly pushing his tea tray farther away from the papers on his desk.

She caught the action and stopped her pacing long enough to raise an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. She rolled her eyes and resumed pacing. Feeling like that was enough to confirm her ire wasn’t directed at him, he ventured to ask, “Katara. What’s wrong?”

“Aang. Aang is what’s wrong!” Oh. It had been three days since the Avatar and the others had arrived. Three days since Zuko and Katara told them how they were dating. And three days of Aang keeping his distance from them both. To be fair, he was still doing his part as Avatar and helping to moderate some important discussions about reparations with the Earth Kingdom, which was the original excuse for his visit. Aside from a few cool looks directed Zuko’s way, he was able to remain surprisingly professional and fair.

Though to be honest, Zuko had been less worried about Aang than he had been about Sokka. Aang may be the Avatar and Katara’s closest friend, but Sokka was still her brother and Zuko knew he still looked out for his little sister. It turned out there was no need to worry, though. When Zuko had approached him about it in private Sokka simply shrugged and said matter of factly, “I’m gonna be honest with ya, buddy. After the year and a half I just had, my little sister dating the new ruler of the Fire Nation is not the strangest thing to happen.”

So there was that.

“Didn’t he agree to practice waterbending or something this afternoon?” Zuko asked now. Katara stopped pacing again and the look in her eyes could freeze steam, no waterbending required.

“He cancelled. Said he had “important Avatar business” to do. As if I wouldn’t know anything about Avatar business!” She threw up her arms in frustration and Zuko’s tea pot rattled ominously. He casually shuffled some documents to the other side of his cluttered desk before standing and walking to her.

“I thought we were going to give him space to work through… things.”

She sighed and walked away to his open balcony. “It’s been days! And I’m no good at giving space. I just want us to be able to talk through it. We should be able to do that. We’re still best friends.” She hesitated. Hugged herself and sort of shrunk inward. Zuko was there, wrapping his arms around her before he even realized he stepped outside. “At least I still consider him my best friend. Zuko, what if he never forgives me?” She whispered.

He hugged her tighter and felt her lean into him. “We’re talking about the same kid who lectured us both on the saving power of forgiveness during a hundred-year war. I think you might be overthinking this, just a bit.”

She huffed out a laugh and actually smiled up at him, though ruefully. And he took a moment to feel the thrill of knowing he could make her smile, help her relax the tension building in her shoulders and brow. Especially now, when she was so upset and needed cheering. All he’d known for so long had been anger, so he never used to think he could do cheering. But for her he wants to become an expert.

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” she said reluctantly. “But if he doesn’t talk to me soon I’m going to sick Toph on him. And we all know how scary she can get.”

——

The length of this one kinda got away from me, sorry! My goal is to keep the ficlets somewhat short, but I kinda build the story up in my head while drawing and it sometimes becomes more than I originally intended. I tried to hide the text under a cut, but I only have my ipad and I can’t find the option to do that with the app. :/

Anyway, I’m loving all the beautiful works people have been posting! I love this fandom!

[chwetuan]

+ the baker, the bun ; yugyeom

+ read this & this | pregnancy!au | husband!yug

+ gender reveal shenanigans, markbam crackhead dynamics, all that good stuff

+ category: one-shot | genre: it’s literally just fluff

+ requested by @geminimess​

Yugyeom feels like he’s going to pass out. Not because he’s outside in the 90 degree weather of the summer, but because you’re glaring at him with such hatred that he’s truly beginning to wonder if he’s called you his wife for the last two years.

The cap on his head does nothing to stop the way the heat creeps up his spine. His eyes are trained on you — so pregnant, ankles swollen, cheeks flushed pink and sipping on a red Gatorade because it’s “the closest thing” to a cocktail you can get your hands on.

Yugyeom’s heard it from all his friends and coworkers — how women seem to glow when they’re pregnant. And to an extent, it’s true — your face seemed to be beaming with life, cheeks full and pretty when you smiled. But more often than not, he swears on his life, you don’t glow like an angel. Rather, you glow red like satan’s right-hand man, coupled with a sharp tongue and a newfound-wit about you.

You wore pregnancy like armor — literally, always in defense mode and ready to chew his, or anyones, head off at the smallest inconvenience.

But he takes the hits and rolls with the punches, because at the end of the day, you were easy to talk down.

You’d grown impossibly sweet, calmed by simple kisses and the sound of his voice when it seemed like you were on the brink of exploding with rage or annoyance. On most days, you were fussy at best, only needing the bare minimum of a hug and some peanut butter to keep you satisfied.

But right now, there’s something he can’t place his finger on.

It feels like a guessing game — he isn’t sure why you’re glaring at him, or what he’s done to warrant such a look of venom, but mentally, he’s going through a checklist of what he could’ve possibly done to piss you off.

You’re reclined on one of the lounger-chairs in your tiny backyard, your dad next to you. He’s peeling a tangerine and singing along to whatever 80s throwback he’s decided to play. Yugyeom has no clue why your sister employed your insane father with the task of setting the playlist for your gender reveal, but he’s known your family too long to ask questions when it came to delegation. The old man wears the same blue tinted bifocals, but instead of his usual button down Hawaiian shirt, he wears a white tee that with bold lettering that reads “grandpa” across the front.

“Dude, you look like you’re going to pass out.”

At the sound Mark’s voice, Yugyeom is snapped out of his daydream.

“These lemon squares are simply exquisite.” Bambam buts in, squeezing his way in to stand between the two men.

You’ve finally mastered the recipe, after all.

Mark stares at him for two beats before facing Yugyeom. “For real, are you okay?”

Yugyeom nods, taking a sip from his water bottle. “I’m fine. Just. Gender reveal, you know?”

Again, Bambam buts in. “______ looks like she’s going to kill me. Or you. She’s staring in this general direction and I can’t really tell.”

He knows you’re staring. You’ve been doing so for the last 15 minutes and he hasn’t decided on his approach yet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sister enter the backyard with a white cake box in hand, resting it on one of the many, many, many (really, the table to guest ratio is absurd), food tables that crowd the space.

It’s then you motion Yugyeom over, brows angled inward and a huff leaving your chest.

Your hands are grabby when you reach for him, and his arms are around you as he helps you up from the seat. He stares at you a few seconds before brushing your bangs from your face and planting a soft kiss on your forehead. It’s only then that the crease in your brow disappears, your face relaxing into a happy smile. It’s simple.

“The spawn won’t stop kicking.”

He laughs, loud and open, palms falling to your rounded stomach. “When are you gonna stop calling our baby a spawn?”

“When I find out whether or not it’s a female or male spawn. Maybe then I’ll think about a different name.”

You look around at your friends and family that have began to gather around the tables, all wearing various shades of blue and pink — in competition with each other placing bets on whether or not it’s a boy or a girl.

After a few more minutes spent talking with them, Yugyeom asks —

“Are you ready to cut the cake?”

“I swear to god if I have to listen to one more joke about how I’m now literally a baker, I’m going to kick everyone out and then retire.”

~~~

Stood in front of the people closest to you, you and Yugyeom both grip the knife, prepared to cut into the frosted white cake that sits before you. He doesn’t know why there’s so much tension in the air — but everyone is excited, holding their breath and waiting to see what color the slice of cake is.

“Ready?” You ask and he nods.

When the knife parts the frosting, you can feel the excitement buzzing through the air as your friends and relatives watch on.

Jackson stands next to you, watching intensely as the first slice is plated. He looks like he’’ll burst into tears at any second.

“Boy! Boy! It’s a boy!” Exclaims your dad, face breaking into a smile as guests begin to cheer.

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

Yugyeom is speechless, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you what feels to be a thousand times.

But within a few seconds, the cheers are replaced by silence as you stare at your sister, who’s approaching the table with a second cake, in confusion.

Now, Yugyeom really feels like he’s going to pass out.

With Jackson’s help, she places the second cake on the table in front of you. “Uh, surprise?”

On the sidelines, Bambam whispers to Mark. “It’s fucking twins! You owe me ten bucks.”

“I’m not paying you shit! I-“

“I knew I was right!”

Mark shoves him, just enough to have the younger man tripping over his feet and repositioning himself.

“Shut up! It was a joke, you weren’t even being serious.”

“It’s a girl!” Your sister yells, and the two men turn their attention back to you and Yugyeom.

“Now, you owe me ten bucks.” Mark quips, clapping and cheering alongside the rest of your friends and family.

.

.

.

“It’s two spawns! You knocked me up with two spawns?” You exclaim, shoving a mouthful of cake into Yugyeom’s mouth as he tries his best to keep his composure.

Your house is empty now, and it’s just you and him standing in your kitchen going in on what’s left of the cakes from earlier.

He knows you’re joking, you haven’t stopped smiling since your sister brought the second cake out.

Whether it be chance laying out the cards or a higher power sketching the timeline of events, he feels blessed, to have you in his life.

To have you as his wife, the soon-to-be mother of his children, to have you as his best friend.

You beckon him closer to you once more, pulling him into a kiss that tastes like frosting and the epitome of happiness.

X

X

X

(written july 4th - posted & edited july 5th)

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (14)

indelicate marks: chapter fourteen - the promise 

A/N: i managed to return, after many technical difficulties, to post chapter 14!! i hope you are all enjoying the story so far... thank you everyone for reading. lots of love and please enjoy :) - ivy 

warnings: language, sorta angst

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22 @bitch-im-a-fangirl @erinisbadger @strawberriesonsummer

indelicate marks index

It so happened that that night would be the last time you would see Draco Malfoy for two weeks. You'd woken to the sound of the door clicking shut - the blinding sun in your eyes, and the lack of a warm body next to yours. You poured over that night in your mind for hours. It wasn't as though he'd pushed you away - he had signalled nothing wrong with the fact that you had kissed him. No, in fact, he had kissed you back. He hadn't been in any of your lessons you usually had together. At first, you put it down to him being ill, or maybe his sleep deprivation had finally caught up with him. Then, he hadn't shown up to your usual meeting at the classroom. Beginning to worry that something had happened, you'd forced yourself to go the Great Hall. Something regarding the mark on his arm, perhaps, or even to do with what Potter had mentioned. But, Draco had been there, alive, sitting at the Slytherin table next to Pansy Parkinson. It didn't take you till the next missed meeting to understand that Draco was avoiding you. And it hurt. It hurt so much worse than you ever could have imagined. You were supposed to be friends. Even if friends didn't think about each other every second of the day - even if friends didn't kiss and then refuse to acknowledge it. Draco was, still, the only person you had. You didn't want to lose him to your own stupid mistake. His ignorance continued for a couple more days - until you got called out of Transfiguration by Snape. All eyes followed you as you hesitated to stand, staring at him with a dull knowing settled in your chest. Nausea swam in the pit of your stomach as you collected your things and left. You tried to ignore a certain grey gaze that only moments ago you would have adored to know were following you, burning holes into your back. The dull knowing was all too correct, and the pain was suffocating. "Are you sure you don't want someone to accompany you back to the Slytherin dorms, Miss Y/L/N?" The crease in Dumbledore's brow deepened. Edging away from him, you tugged at your sleeve with a harsh force. "Yes." The word came, sharp, from your mouth. Covering the name that was blaring in your mind, you supposed, but you cleared your throat to adjust your tone. "Yes, I'm fine, Professor. Thank you." Dumbledore watched you for a second longer, and then offered you a slow nod. Legs shifting quicker than your mind, you shot out of the office before he could speak again. It didn't take you ten strides away from the Headmasters office before you were interrupted. A hand wrapped around your arm, dragging you towards an empty classroom - but the jump of your heart was short lived. You'd almost anticipated it, grinding your teeth as the door swung and locked behind you. Yanking your arm back, you glared at the figure facing you. Draco stared back with a very serious expression. Features fixed and gloomy, you pushed away the guilty sense of elation at the sight of him. "What the fuck was that about?" He growled, not even missing a beat. And Merlin, could you explode with the amount of emotions coursing through you. Terror. Rage. Desperation. Longing. "Nice to see you too." Voice seething, you clenched your jaw, wrapping your arms around yourself. Uncharacteristic, panicked anger glinted in the greys of his eyes. "Merlin, Y/N, don't make this personal." It came with a play of a sneer on his lips, and whatever ounce of happiness you held that he was talking to you dissipated. A small scoff of disbelief left you before you could hide it, disguising the stab of hurt that hit you square in the chest. "You need to tell me what happened. Everything." "I don't need to tell you fuck all, Draco Malfoy." Your tone raised, praying that the lump in your throat wasn't evident in the roughness of your voice. His face remained so hard, so steely. It felt like you'd gone back to square one. "Fucking hell." The words came as a frustrated groan, rumbling in the back of his throat. A hand resting on his hip, the other ran through his hair as he steadied his expression. "Can you, for once in your bloody life, not make things complicated?" Draco's eyes were hot and angry and anxious on yours. In any other circumstance, in fact, it would have been concerning. But something in you snapped. Maybe the way he'd spoken, like everything was your fault. Maybe the standoffish position his body fallen into. "Fuck you!" Tears were undoubtedly welling in your eyes, even as you yelled. "Where have you been, Draco? Two weeks of you avoiding me like the bloody plague - after saying we'd talk about things - and then you storm back into my life, demanding I tell you everything - and then you call me complicated?" A ragged breath pushed past your lips as you stared at him, looking bedraggled and most likely a little crazy. You'd taken a step towards him as you shouted, and Draco's expression had withdrawn. Another second of tense silence. "You want to know what happened?" You raised an eyebrow harshly. "My parents are out." Draco froze. "Shit - Y/N -" "Don't you dare pretend you care." Another low, painful growl. Draco stared at you, thrown off by your outburst. "This is it, now, for me. I'm fucked - I am so fucked - and you just left for me for two weeks-" And then, you broke into a sob. Draco shot forward, but you stumbled away. Something flicked across his features, swallowed by his vacancy before you could label it. You didn't care, though. Because he'd moved forward again, cupped your cheek, and pressed his lips against yours. Hands curling into fists, your nails dug into your palms - only to drop them round his shoulders. It felt as though your chest was being crushed inwards with emotion as Draco shifted his jaw to meet yours. It only lasted a moment. You pushed him away again, hands still lingering at his shoulders. Taking in a long breath, you refused to look at him, heart throbbing in your chest. "Don't do that again." You mumbled, finally dropping your hands. Draco hesitated, eyes boring into you as his hands twitched at his side. "Why?" Faltering, you couldn't help but send him a glance. Whatever you were expecting him to say - it wasn't that. A determined look had spread across his features, and you clenched your jaw a little tighter. "Why do you think?" Your words came rough again. "Last time that happened you dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks." A sour twinge flicked across his expression. Grey eyes glittering, he searched you, but you only balled your hands, arms tight across your waist. "I've been busy." His voice was cold. Again. A scoff came from the last of your anger, still lingering in your chest. "Well, thanks, Draco. Glad to know how much I mean to you." Muttering, you shifted back - as though to leave. "Fuck, Y/N-" Grabbing your arm, you froze to the spot, gaze flying back to him. Draco stared back with a murmur desperation, the uncertainty in his eyes unnerving. "Can we talk? Somewhere else." You hesitated. Because you were still mortified, and pissed off - and now confused. Because knowing your parents were walking the streets was making you feel sick. Really, you just wanted to curl up and pretend you didn't exist. Draco, however, had never looked so on edge. So nervous. And, admittedly, you needed to hear what he had to say. Sighing, you let out a defeated reply. "Fine." It didn't take you long to get to the usual classroom. You avoided Draco's eyes as he opened the door and gestured you to go in first, locking it behind him. The school day had almost finished, sunlight filling the room, giving it an air of exposure. Everything felt so different to the last moments you'd spent there together that your chest clenched up. Hesitating in the middle of the room, you waited for him to face you before you spoke. "Go on, then." Draco scowled, still reluctant. "I need you to understand." Finally, he spoke, eyeing you up as he did. You waited for him to elaborate, but there was only silence, and your lips fell into a frown. "Understand? Which part? You acting like an emotional yo-yo or the fact you vanished for two weeks straight?" "Remember what I said about us arguing?" Draco growled, expression hard. "Look, I thought you'd understand why we haven't been talking." "Well, Draco, I didn't." You bit back another lingering comment, keeping your raising heartbeat quiet in your chest. "And I still don't." "I-" He paused, for a second, fingers running through his hair again. "I can't make any promises to you." Draco's eyes were desperate, again. Begging you to understand what the hell he was trying to make out with his vague language and unstable attitude. You wished you could. It took a second for you to reply. "Draco..." Sighing, your gaze darted away from him as nervousness overtook you. "If you don't - don't feel that way about me then that's fine-" "What?" "What?" You echoed him. Draco, looking almost comedically dumbstruck, stared at you. "You think I don't feel for you?" It came as a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as he shifted towards you again. Glancing away, you turned a little, pushing him away before he could even touch you. His features flashed. "Why the fuck would you think that?" "I don't know what else I was supposed to think." You muttered. "Y/N," Draco sighed, lifting his hands to your shoulders. The movement was careful, so that you didn't shift away from him again, and they settled when you allowed him to. "I didn't do it because I wanted to." You remained silent, scanning his eyes with a tight chest. They searched yours equally, and when you didn't reply, he spoke again. "I did it because I can't help you." You blinked. "What are you talking about?" Words only a breath, you nearly missed them, the noise of your heart pounding too loud. "I'm a Deatheater." Draco's brow furrowed a little, as though he was pointing out the obvious. "You even associating with me would make everything worse. With your parents, with the mark. I would make it inescapable." He paused. "I can't promise I can keep you safe." A flush of emotion hit you as he finished, scalding, yet freezing, all at the same time. You quite possibly adored him. A shuddering breath passed by your lips. Etching his features into memory, you finally allowed yourself to feel the comfort Draco always offered you. You embraced his presence like an old friend. "I don't care about any of that." Mumbling, your hands slipped up to clutch onto his forearms. His expression had remained mostly clear, something that rarely happened. "I always knew things would turn out this way - with my parents. I never had a choice in that." You paused. "But I do have a choice with you, and I'm choosing you." The grey of Draco's eyes darkened in the slightest, fingertips digging into your shoulders a little more. It was hard to keep your voice steady as you continued, heart clenched. "So let me." There was that awful conflict glinting in his gaze again. Painful, and recognisable, and foreboding. It remained for a second, and then it was gone again, and you allowed yourself to ignore it had ever been there in the first place. "No promises?" It was selfish of him, really. Denouncing any mistakes before he could even make them. You didn't care. You only let out another, terrified exhale. "No promises." And then, Draco kissed you for the third time.

[foxtophat]

hello hello hello

i got thrown off my groove for a month there doing irl shit but i finally sat down and posted this piece of mercy fic that i’ve been sitting on for like a month. it’s all about john and kim hanging out and bonding so that’s fun!!!

i have a couple of ideas for stories but i’m not QUITE SURE how many of them are going to actually get posted. i might do like a yearly synopsis and put it in the series, writing out what happens between stories and stuff so when i reference shit it isn’t out of the blue, BUT ALSO i am lazy and it’s a miracle mercyverse has gotten this much from me, so lets not try to rock the boat huh???

anyway this is a story about john and kim falling into a cave. it’s like a bottle episode except the bottle is like a large intestine.  i hope you like it!!! if you do, consider reblogging this post, or sharing the link, or kudosing or commenting or liking or subscribing or SMASHING THAT BELL

as usual, the story is under the cut for those of you who want to stay on tumblr for some godforsaken reason

Kim had thought that she was doing Nick and John a favor when she first offered to go cache-hunting with them. After all, Grace and Carmina had their hands full working on the yard's shooting range, and there hadn't been anything better to do than dig a couple of holes out in the woods. She'd figured, why not? An extra set of hands could speed things up, and she could keep them focused on digging instead of bickering.

Of course, now that she's out here with them, she regrets ever having offered. As it turns out, their method of cache-hunting involves incessantly goading one another into a fight, trading places between aggressive pessimism and irritatingly fake optimism whenever it might serve to piss the other off more. She's given up on trying to stop it; after all, it's not too much worse than what they say while mending fences and hauling scrap. It's just that the distance between them means that they're arguing at a headache-inducing level.

At the very least, Kim had hoped for some kind of method they could fall back on, but at three hours in, they've all but given up. She supposes the first two caches had been pretty easy to find, being in areas where the terrain hasn't changed much — but this neck of the woods has definitely seen some shifting. Between the rock slides and massive knots of collapsed trees, the steep hillside looks more like a beaver dam than the picturesque hiking trail it probably used to be.

"I'm starting to think that Jacob was full of shit," Nick says, as if he hasn't been reiterating the sentiment for the last thirty minutes. "There's no way we're gonna find anything out here."

Nick might be right, but Kim isn't about to gang up on John right now. She's been mostly staying out of it as the two of them argue about Jacob's map coordinates; why get involved now?

She ignores them and instead picks her way up the hillside towards one of the many uprooted trees nearby. Just like the last dozen trees she's checked, this one doesn't hold a barrel in its roots, nor do any of them have any damn sign indicating where they should be looking. Whatever marker Jacob might've left, paranoid bastard that he was, it's definitely been destroyed by the apocalypse.

"I told you that this wasn't going to be easy," John says. "There's half a mile of trail to search, and there's only three of us. This isn't some pasture outside town —"

"When I asked you if we should bring Grace and Carmina along, you said they would just get in the way! Now here you are, telling me we need more people!"

"If they were here, who do you think Grace would blame if Carmina got a goddamn splinter or scraped her knee? How do you still not get that she is actively looking for a reason to shoot me?"

"At this point, I'm looking for a reason, so I don't know what you're expecting!"

Kim has to admit, they're both making pretty good points. She just wishes they wouldn't make it sound like the start of a fistfight.

John's sigh is especially theatrical, and Kim hears the leaves crunch underfoot as he begins to stalk up the hill after her. He's probably going to try passing her, just to get space from Nick, but he really shouldn't bother. They should at least stop for something to eat and some water, and then they can figure out whether or not expanding the search zone is a good idea. They should probably reconsider their current "poke around and hope" method, too.

Setting her sights on a stout, dead tree with its roots partially torn up, Kim decides to make that the last straw. If she's got any luck at all, the cache will be tangled up in the tree's roots, and she'll be able to gloat about finding it for the rest of forever.

"Don't get too excited," John says, catching up to her as he runs away from Nick.

"Too late for that," Kim teases. "My hopes are at an all-time high. I'm about to be crushed by the disappointment."

"Fantastic," John grunts, rolling his eyes.

He lets her take the first approach on the tree, which juts awkwardly out of the ground at an acute angle. Its scraggly branches are covered in dry needles, and the partially exposed root system seems to have rotted from rain. There are no other trees for a good couple of yards in any direction, so this tree must've gotten the brunt of the worst nuclear weather.

"We should take a break," Nick shouts from halfway down the hill. "I need a goddamn drink!"

"I told him this would be a waste of time," John grumbles. "We could have taken any other location, even the one at the goddamn compound, and had better luck than out here."

"Well, we're here now," Kim replies. "Come on, maybe the cache is tangled up in the roots or something."

John reluctantly follows Kim as she tests the spongier, damp soil around the rotting tree's base. It's clear he's already given up, but that only makes Kim more determined to find something worth the trip out here — at the very least, so that she can rub it in John's pessimistic face. He can't be a sour bastard forever.

No barrel in the root system, of course. All Kim finds is molding wood and the flash of exposed rock. It's just muddy enough that Kim's going to have to scrub her boots when they get back. From here, she can see the slope of the hillside, and the trees that slump with their tops pointed in her direction. It's like they're telling her, go back!

"Please talk Nick into giving this up," John insists, lingering right behind her and scowling at the roots that have betrayed both of them.

"I mean, we've only been out here for two hours. There's plenty of time to find something." Kim crouches down to check the rocky substrate for anything interesting. "Look on the bright side, at least we don't have to dig."

"I think you two are blinded by that bright side of yours." John sighs, leaning against the tree and glaring down in Nick's direction. "You know that the interstate is only a half-day hike from here, right? This is the exact sort of place Jacob would've stashed passports, money — bug-out kits to abandon the county, that kind of thing. It's not like he buried more coffee and rice out here."

"So is that your new theory? Jacob was planning escape routes for you guys?"

John frowns. "It's one of them."

Kim stands and comes around to join him by the trunk. She debates on invoking Jacob's memory any more than she already has; he seems to have a habit of upsetting John even from the grave. She gives the tree trunk a little kick as she considers pressing him, knocking some mud from her boot tread.

Her curiosity takes a backseat as the world lurches uncomfortably beneath them. She catches herself against the trunk and looks towards Nick, who's picking his way up towards them. Only now does she notice that the trees in this direction also lean inwards, towards the lone tree they're currently beside.

John catches on at the same time, hissing under his breath before hollering a warning. "It's a goddamn sinkhole, Nick, watch out!"

The inconvenience turns into real fear as Kim considers the terrain. With all the caves littering the mountains around here, there's no telling how deep the void beneath their feet might be — five feet, twenty? Or, God help them, more?

Kim struggles not to panic as Nick makes no effort to hide his own. "Come on, you guys," Nick calls from between two jutting evergreens, "Just cut across before the whole damn thing gives out!"

There's not a second to spare, but even as Kim starts to move she knows it's too late. She gets one last look at Nick's horrified expression before she, John, and the dead tree crash down into the empty space below.

Kim lands hard on her side, her arm taking the brunt of the blow and blossoming in radiant, white-hot pain. The world around her, suddenly dark and unfamiliar, tunnels alarmingly out of her vision, her blood rushing into her ears until she can only vaguely hear her own pained crying. Trying to move only causes daggers of pain to shoot right up her arm and into her brain, but she only finds that out as she rolls off of her definitely broken arm. At least, Kim's pretty sure it's broken. She's terrified of looking over and seeing her bone poking out, or something even worse — she knows that she won't be able to stand it, that she'll pass out, and she can't do that down here in this goddamn cavern!

Vague, warped voices vibrate through her as John appears abruptly by her side. The left side of his face is covered in a smear of blood from a deep wound scored over his brow. His mouth moves like he's trying to speak to her. God, her fucking arm!

"Take a deep breath," John commands once again, and this time Kim hears him and abides. The pain doesn't subside, but at least the panic that comes with it is softened as she struggles to calm down. As she does, the background noises begin to come into focus; the crumbling rubble settling, the sharp, birdless silence of the air, and most importantly, Nick hysterically shouting her name from above.

John puts a hand on the shoulder not currently delivering mountains of pain. "Another one," he says, and Kim obeys. It's while she's trying to catch her breath that John steps away, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting up, "Kim's broken her arm!"

"God damn it, what happened — never mind, just —! Stay put! I'll go get help!" Nick's voice cracks as he realizes aloud, "Shit, there's nobody to get help from!"

Kim sucks in a deep breath. There's no way that John is going to be able to handle Nick's mounting panic by himself, and so she steels herself and tries to steady her voice. "It's gonna be okay!" she shouts. "I'm fine!"

"Bullshit you're fine, that looks like a two-story drop from here!"

John swears under his breath. "I don't have time for this."

"He's going to try and jump down if we don't talk him out of it," Kim hisses, closing her eyes as a wave of painful pins and needles washes up her arm. She keeps accidentally moving it, and the feeling of the bone scraping is enough to make her want to vomit.

John clearly decides she's right, changing tactics as Kim desperately tries not to start sobbing again. "It isn't bad, Nick!" he shouts, "But I need rope if I'm going to splint it! Get the cord from the glove box!"

Nick is quiet for a moment. "Y-Yeah," he calls down shakily, "I... I guess you got plenty to work with — hold on!"

Kim lets out a breath she hadn't meant to hold, then bites back the scream that threatens to rip from her throat. "Please tell me you can do this," she moans as John crouches down beside her broken arm. "I can't look — is there bone?"

"There's no bone," John replies. His voice is tight and unhappy, but at least he isn't lacking in confidence when he tells her, "I know what I'm doing. Try to stay conscious, and don't move. The last thing I need is to be stuck alone with Nick."

"Excuse him for worrying," she groans, staring up at the sky through the fifteen-foot-wide hole above her. She counts down the seconds until Nick gets back, if only to focus on something other than the pain.

John leaves her to it, making his way over to the tree that's joined them here in the cavern. There isn't much else down here besides them and the vegetation that came down with them; the sinkhole must have joined with a cavern somewhere along the way. The rock here probably hasn't seen daylight before — when she glances around, she spots a dark crack in the wall that implies there might be more, unlit caves to explore beyond.

Boy, she really does not want to go into that creepy tunnel, and she especially doesn't want to do it with a broken arm. Thankfully, Nick returns before that worry turns to panic.

"Everything okay? Actually, never mind — look, I got the rope, and the first-aid kit!"

Anything Nick decides to throw down is going to stay down here, and so Kim quickly stops him. "You keep that, Nick! If you get hurt up there, you'll need it!"

"We need it more," John points out, returning to her with a few branches that he clearly intends to use as a splint. He's not wrong about the medkit; the cut over his eye is a nasty one, and Kim could use all of those expired painkillers about now. Not to mention, there might be more injuries they've missed.

Still. "I'm not leaving Nick without supplies," she says.

John doesn't reply, but his scowl speaks volumes.

After a minute or so, Nick is ready to throw the cord down. They coordinate the hand-off just fine without her, which is great, because Kim needs to reserve all of her strength for what's to come.

Nick's bundled a few of the medical supplies into his worn-out flannel, along with the crank flashlight and one of the ultra-dry military rations, all tied off with the paracord. Kim is both touched at the thought and horrified at the idea that they might be here long enough to get hungry.

"This is good, Nick," John calls. "We're in a cave — there's got to be another way out nearby!"

"I'll go look for a way in!"

"No," Kim shouts, her voice cracking, "You might get hurt, Nick!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Kim! I'm not gonna leave you down there!"

Kim has never in her life imagined that she would say her next words, but that doesn't mean she doesn't mean it. "I'm going to be okay! John's down here with me, I'll be fine!"

John doesn't seem to have expected her to say that, either, boggling at her with open confusion. But... well, come on! If John can trust her enough to gun down Peggies trying to kidnap him, then she can at least trust him to help her limp out of one of Hope County's many caves. Sure, it's not an ideal situation by any means, but Kim's just happy not to be stuck looking for a way out by herself.

"Are you sure you can even walk?" Nick calls uneasily.

"I can handle it, Nick," John replies for her. "We'll look for a way out — if we don't find anything in an hour, we'll come back here and try something else!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!"

John pauses long enough to look at Kim, but since he seems to have more ideas than she does, she defers to his judgment. "Circle west around the hill and look for any entrances to call from! There's going to be a cave opening somewhere nearby!"

"I don't like any of this, Kim!"

John pinches the bridge of his nose, leaving Kim to answer, "It's the only plan we've got!"

The silence from above stretches out. "We don't have time for this," John mutters, abandoning his attempts to reassure Nick. "There's no telling where a way out might be, and I'm not wasting more time because Nick can't trust me."

"It's not about trust," Kim snipes in return. "He's trying not to panic."

John only grunts in return, settling on his knees next to her as he prepares to do the hard part for her. That leaves it up to Kim to encourage Nick to get a move on; she really doesn't want him sticking around for the painful part. "Nick, be careful, I don't want you to fall in another sinkhole! We'll be okay!"

Nick is frustratingly silent for another moment, but eventually, he relents. "Okay, fine! Remember to mark your path! And don't trust any ropes or ladders you see! And stay outta any water you find, you don't know how deep it is!"

"Jesus Christ," John mutters.

"Oh, shut up," Kim tells him, lifting her strained voice to call back. "Alright, Nick! We'll be careful! We'll see you soon!"

Kim makes John wait another minute after Nick leaves before she lets him at her arm. Despite his sour expression, John manages to be nothing more than stern, and surprisingly gentle. "Careful," he tells her, as if she needs a warning as he adjusts her broken arm. She's unable to decide if the burning sensation or the stabbing sensation is worse, but they're both vying for the spot as John examines the fracture. God, she hopes he knows what he's doing. She hopes it heals clean. She doesn't know what she'll do if she loses the thing.

John jostles her a little too abruptly, and a gasp of pain tears her from her downward spiral of worst possible outcomes. If John notices, he doesn't comment.

"It's not so bad," he says, although Kim's still not sure if she trusts his judgment on the matter. "It seems like a single fracture. I'll splint it, and... Well, there's somebody in town with medical experience, isn't there?"

"I don't know," Kim gasps, head reeling, "Maybe?"

John sighs. "Well, at least you'll survive."

"You better hope so," Kim jokes, or tries to anyway.

John rolls his eyes, but thankfully he's not in a vindictive mood as he prepares to set her arm. "You'll want to scream," he tells her. "Try breathing through your nose instead."

He sure isn't wrong. Kim can't think straight for a minute after he's finished, her face wet as the pain forces her to tears, but John is utterly detached and methodical as he binds her arm to one of the branches. It's reassuring at first, but Kim can't help but wonder just how many people suffered broken bones and serious trauma at his hands, only to see the same dispassionate bedside manner afterward? God, assuming they even survived what he put them through.

"Catch your breath," John tells her once he's done, standing and turning back to further investigate the tree. "The cave systems go on for miles down here, but there are dozens of openings in the hills. As long as we stick to the larger tunnels, we should be able to find one of them."

Kim watches him pick through the tree, sizing out larger branches and dismissing them one by one.

"I'm surprised you're not more freaked out," she says as he picks out a four-foot branch. "You know, being underground and everything."

John furiously breaks the branch from the trunk, then roughly cleans it of dead sprigs and foliage. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Sorry, I just meant —"

"I know what you meant," he says. "It's fine. I'm not... Like I said, these tunnels are hardly inescapable." He strikes the branch against the ground and seems satisfied by the sound. "I spent a lot of time studying the cave systems out here. We considered using them for passage between the gates, but that plan never went anywhere. It left me with enough useless knowledge that I'm not prone to panic down here."

"Useless until now," Kim points out. "Now help me up and let's get the hell out of here."

John helps her to her feet with her good arm, careful not to jostle the splint as she tests her balance. The world heaves for an uncomfortable second or two before righting itself, although it's mostly shock and adrenaline keeping her moving. She's not sure how long that's going to last, but she sure hopes it's long enough to reunite with Nick.

"I should probably lead," John says, looking unhappy about her tentatively upright position.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm in the position to trail-blaze."

"You're barely in the position to walk," he replies. Casting one last look around the sunlit cavern, John turns towards the dark crack in the wall that leads further into the system. "Try not to pass out."

"No promises," she says, staggering her way to their only exit.

She can feel the cool, musty air from here, oddly relieving against her sweaty face. She wishes she hadn't watched The Descent so many times before the apocalypse, because that is really coloring her perception of this situation. Of course, they're more likely to run into a wolverine or bear den than they are to be hunted by a pack of cave-dwelling mutants, but that doesn't stop her from considering it.

John starts forward. Kim, anxious and trembling in pain, tries to joke. "Just avoid stepping on any weird symbols carved into the ground, okay?"

"Christ," John groans, the same way he does every time somebody tries to rope him in with a pop-culture reference. He winds the flashlight up and the beam of light cuts a sharp swath across the dark tunnel "Will you two please let that Hollywood bullshit die already?"

"Oh, relax," she replies. "Tropes are older than L.A. and you know it. They aren't going to disappear just because civilization got nuked."

"One can dream," John snipes dryly in return.

Of course, even with the attitude, John keeps close to Kim, sticking to her uninjured side. Kim imagines her slow pace must be irritating the crap out of him, but he impressively manages not to sigh or stomp like a passive-aggressive toddler. He's been getting a lot better about letting his exasperation get to him, although she bets it's got a lot to do with exhaustion and survival instinct right now.

The silence stretches for a time between them. Kim imagines John is lost in his thoughts, but she's been hyper-aware of every distant sound of rubble shifting or oddly-shaped rock formations that are easy to mistake for humanoid shapes in the dark. The tunnel is only about eight feet across and somewhat taller than that, but that's plenty of room for Kim's imagination to play tricks on her.

"I always thought your anti-Hollywood thing was some kind of shtick," she admits. "Maybe you got scorned on a screenplay or something, I dunno. But you really believe that all of the entertainment industry deserved to get firebombed out of existence?"

"It deserved a reckoning," John replies.

"You mean something like nuclear annihilation?"

John's frown deepens. "Maybe," he says stiffly.

Normally, Kim would try to dig into that more, but she's not in a position to make much sense of it right now. Honestly, the conversation is irrelevant — she just needs something to keep her from fantasizing about monsters in the dark. Or, you know, passing out. Whichever would be worse.

"So I guess you don't have a desert island five, then."

John huffs loudly at that. "I wouldn't be able to remember it."

That just tells Kim that he does have one. She bets American Psycho or Fight Club was on it. Maybe Fear and Loathing?

"Okay, well... say you had to pick a movie to watch as soon as we got home. What would it be?"

Even without looking, Kim knows he's rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Is this really the time?"

"Humor me."

He groans in annoyance, but Kim doesn't miss the short stretch of silence that follows as he thinks it over.

"I don't know," he finally grumbles.

"Come on, you've got to have something."

"I only ever saw a handful of movies growing up, and I lost interest in the medium in college."

"God, you must have been a pretentious bastard."

Despite himself, John chuckles at the jab. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies.

The conversation dies, just like John had probably hoped it would. Kim tries to find something else to distract her, but there's really not much to look at. They've only found one offshoot that John had been able to fit in, but it had ended only a few yards in. They've been exploring for maybe fifteen minutes, though; there's still time for a miracle. Until then, she's got moss to look at, and the distant trickle of water from somewhere far away. With the way the land's shifted, there may be a new river forming somewhere up on the surface. In a few decades, it could swallow these caverns entirely.

"How does your arm feel?" John asks, his voice bouncing off the walls and breaking the silence.

"Not... great," she admits, still trying not to focus on the numb agony of her arm. "I wouldn't mind lying down and sleeping for a few weeks right about now, but I think I can keep it together until we find a way out."

She hopes, anyway.

"Good." John takes a moment to crank the flashlight before it can go out, then picks up the conversation as though Kim weren't even there. "There's nobody in town that I know of that has serious medical experience. With the gates destroyed, there's no telling where the experts we'd vetted for the Project wound up. Dead, probably. Or worse, still involved with Joseph. Hell, even a vet would be better than nothing."

He's definitely more anxious than he wants to let on. Kim doesn't believe for a second that being in this endless, dark tunnel is any better than being trapped in a bunker, save for maybe the space. At least in a bunker, you know which way is out, and you know what's going to kill you.

Now Kim is the one who starts to ramble. "I mean, there's got to be an eagle scout out there somewhere. And there were a couple of doctors still working when I had Carmina — one of them might've survived, right? Somebody out there will know enough to check your handiwork. For the record, though, I think you did a pretty good job for a guy stuck in a pit."

John shakes his head. "I've set plenty of broken limbs." There's a weird sort of challenge in his voice as he says, "Of course, I was the one who broke most of them."

"And I think you feel pretty shitty about it, so I don't know why you sound so smug."

"I'm just reminding you of who you're trying to compliment."

Kim rolls her eyes, her exasperation carrying over in her voice. "I know exactly who you are, John. Quit trying to rile me up like you do with Nick, it isn't going to work."

He huffs. "Sure," he says, then promptly shuts up. Of course he does. No wonder he only ever wants to talk to Nick — it's like he doesn't know how to hold a conversation without trying to start a fight.

Well, Kim needs something to distract her, so she'll carry on with it herself. "I've sprained my ankle a couple of times, but the only time I've ever broken a bone was in soccer camp when I was... thirteen, I think? It was my big toe, and the humiliation was way worse than the pain."

"I can't imagine," John drawls, distinctly unenthusiastic.

Kim opens her mouth to ask the obvious question, then catches herself. Asking about John's past is essentially opening Pandora's box; every time Kim has gone digging, she comes away with something new she wishes she could forget about. The breadcrumbs of information he's given her over the past year or so have honestly kept her up some nights. She probably doesn't want to know anything about the number of broken bones John's had. She definitely doesn't want to know how.

John looks over at her, daring her to ask. It's only when Kim manages to contain her curiosity that he parts with a few terse details. "The first time was when I was eleven. It was a powerful learning experience. One I... try not to revisit."

"Sure," she says. It sounds reasonable enough, anyway.

The flashlight's beam cuts across the wall further ahead, revealing the first major fork that they've come across. They're forced to take an impromptu break as John tries to determine their best way forward. John scowls at the darkness in either direction, but it doesn't seem to help make a decision. Meanwhile, Kim takes the opportunity to rest against the cold stone, swallowing down the nausea that's starting to build. It's a miracle that she's made it this far without fainting, but she doesn't think John's in the mood to hear that.

Frowning, John turns the flashlight back the way they came, sweeping the light down the forking path. "Strange," he mutters.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he says, sweeping the light down the way they came. "Except... see this?"

He steps closer to highlight a uniformly rectangular notch in the wall, just about hip-level. Moving the light reveals more, equally spaced notches, continuing along the wall of the newest fork in their road.

"There were guide ropes installed at one point or another. It doesn't seem to be an active mine, though — it must've been for dumb tourists, just in case of lawsuits."

"I hate to tell you, John, but right now, we're the dumb tourists."

"Unfortunately so. I guess that means we should take the left."

It's smaller, and it looks just as untouched as the rest of the cave has so far, but John's made a compelling point about the seemingly man-made notches.

"You're the expert," Kim says, "I'll take your word for it."

"Alright," he says, not as enthusiastic as Kim would have hoped for. He eyes her somewhat critically, then asks, "How are you doing?"

It's probably the pain making her delirious, but she's surprised at John's concern for her wellbeing. She really shouldn't be. Of course he cares; even if he weren't actively trying to be less awful, he's too smart to leave Kim down here and risk Nick finding out. But still. She's pain-addled enough to be touched by the sentiment.

That doesn't mean she's in the mood to sugarcoat the truth. "I'm surprised I'm still standing," she says. "Let's just hope we find Nick before I pass out."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing me carrying your limp body out of the abandoned mine."

Kim laughs, regretting it as it sends an ache jolting through her body. "Oh, I bet. Just don't be surprised if I tap out at some point."

"You're stronger than that," John remarks. "Follow me."

Now, following John Seed through a dark cave tunnel with a broken arm seems like it would be a bad time. If this were ten, eleven years ago, Kim's sure she would be hunting for a weapon or looking for her own escape route. That is, of course, assuming he hadn't left her to die down here. No doubt that her survival would've banked on how much he would have needed her.

She's glad that's not the case now. John is a reliable navigator, slow-going and cautious as he leads the way, testing suspect rock formations and ducking into narrow crags that don't go anywhere. Honestly, he's probably being more cautious than they need to be. It's already been a half-hour or so, and they're going to need to turn back before much longer.

John has other concerns to bother him, though. "I wonder what happened to the anchors," he says at one point. "You'd think we would have found one by now."

"Maybe they took the rope down before the Collapse," Kim points out. "Lots of tourist traps weren't exactly up to code. Earl probably got here way before we did, back when he was trying to crack down on these kinds of things."

John frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"It's not like people are down here renovating for the next season."

"We don't know that," he points out grimly. "Survivors might've hidden from the radiation down here. Or maybe some angels got lost after Faith was killed."

"Come on, John," she groans.

"Nick's always wondering where the mutants are. Maybe we'll be the ones to find them."

Kim side-eyes John just in time to catch the remnants of a smirk on his face, and she can't help but elbow him with her good arm. She tries to admonish him, telling him, "Knock it off," but she can't help laughing as she does.

"You're probably right about the code violations," John chuckles at last, lifting the light to check the ceiling ahead as it dips low enough for them to need to duck. "Not a lot of these cave systems were what I'd call safe. It's one of the reasons we decided against using them as tunnels. The work involved was too expensive, and the chance of cave-ins was too high. And, as we've found out, they weren't guaranteed to stay underground."

"So, what was going to happen instead? Were you guys going to rely on radios, or what?"

"It doesn't matter what we decided," John points out, more weary of the conversation than irritated. "The gates were barely finished before the Deputy destroyed them, and we never got to find out what might've happened."

They follow the notches through two more forks, and Kim starts to worry that they're only going deeper into the old attraction. Well, at least they're taking the easy way. With a smooth floor and a ceiling that rarely drops lower than eight feet, Kim gets the impression that they're in a manufactured mine, and not an organic one. For all they know, some crazy prepper dug this tunnel out to make a quick buck for his bunker-building hobby. Of course, if that's the case, it's a miracle that nothing's caved in yet.

They pass underneath a lower segment of the ceiling, and the tunnel abruptly opens up into a massive cavern. Defunct light rigs are scattered amongst the stalagmites, with several hanging stalactites covered in chipped fluorescent paint. The rest of the rock outcroppings are covered in lichen, which disappointingly fails to glow in the dark. As John sweeps the flashlight across the large, empty space, Kim gets a good idea of the cheap edu-tainment that was offered on short hikes through the mines. Somewhere in here, there's probably a storage closet full of Halloween decor waiting to liven up the otherwise boring cavern.

"Well, this wasn't worth the twenty dollars it cost to get in," John grouses.

"Don't forget the thirty-dollar iron-on tee-shirts they print off at home," Kim reminds him with a laugh. It's enough to make her lightheaded, and she doesn't quite regain her balance, even after she braces herself against the wall.

"We can only rest a minute," he warns her, sweeping the light in the direction they need to go. Any more huffing and puffing on his part is diminished as the light glints off the rounded edge of something metallic. When John refocuses the light on the object, neither of them really know what to say.

Lying amongst the rocks, battered and dirty, is one of the dark green bliss containers they've been looking for. Kim looks up, but the ceiling is rooted in darkness, and she can't see any sign of another cave-in or sinkhole. The idea that Jacob might've come this far himself crosses her mind, but if that were the case, why is it sitting out in the open like that?

"John, wait," Kim calls as John steps off the path. Suddenly, all her jokes about booby traps seem tasteless, especially with John charging into the unknown like he is.

Of course, this isn't Indiana Jones, and there's no pit of spikes or tripwire to trigger. John doesn't wind up with a face-full of poison darts as he picks up the dented canister; the only thing he's forced to sacrifice is a good grip on the flashlight, which shines at an awkward angle and only illuminates a useless part of the floor. His slow pace and the bad lighting leave Kim to imagine what he's found inside — remnants of supplies, or a dead animal? Indications that something chewed through the rubber sealant, maybe?

John drops the barrel between them, the clanging metal causing Kim to jump. John doesn't notice as he reorients the light, leaning over to illuminate the barrel's contents. The interior is flaked with rust, and whatever sealant had been used is all but completely worn away. The only thing left inside is an empty, smashed bottle of liquor and a few wrapped, moldy packages of cigarettes.

"I don't know if I'm disappointed or not," Kim says.

"I know I am," John replies, grimly reaching into the empty barrel to check for a false bottom. The screech of metal rises up into the cavern, bouncing off the far ceiling and turning into an ugly birdsong. Kim leans back against the wall; if she keeps looking down, she's going to end up toppling over like a broken Weeble-Wobble. John glances her way after a moment, before lifting a clump of wet paper out from the depths of the barrel.

"Of course he buried documents here," John mutters. Kim can't quite pin down whether he's upset or resigned to the bad luck at this point.

"Anything salvageable?" she asks.

"Doubtful. I'll... bring these along, I guess." He checks again, digging out what he can. Other than the loose papers, there's a water-logged manila envelope and an equally soaked box of ammunition. John tucks the box away in his front pocket, holding the papers uncomfortably in his hand. "We'll worry about what these are once we're out of here."

Despite the pain in her arm giving her full-body tremors and John's dismal mood, Kim is nearly upbeat as they exit the cavern. They're still in civilization, after all, even if it's a defunct tourist trap, and the knowledge that they're clearly on their way out is the main thing keeping her moving. If they're lucky, they aren't too far from the truck — if they're really lucky, Nick will have found the entrance before them.

They eventually find a few anchors that are still moored to the walls, a knotted bit of rope still attached, and Kim breathes a sigh of relief. The sigh quickly turns to a groan of pain as she rattles her arm, but at least it isn't enough to knock her off her feet.

John hesitates in front of her, slowing just enough so that he can offer his arm to her. "We can't stop now," he tells her.

"I know," she pants, wiping sweat from her forehead that she hadn't realized was gathering. "Okay. We're nearly there."

She gives up on pretending entirely, leaning heavily against John as they continue forward. Lying down and resting for, oh, a hundred years or so sounds great right now, but first, she needs to make sure Nick hasn't had a heart attack waiting for them. He's probably convinced himself that they've gotten killed somehow, and John isn't going to be able to talk him down on his own.

They approach what will hopefully be the last fork in the tunnel, only to find that both directions have anchors. The newest offshoot seems to curve pretty severely downwards, though; it's clear even as they stop that they should stick to the path they've been on.

"I don't like this," John says, looking first behind them and then ahead, down the new path.

"Fine," Kim groans, "You can choose the next tourist trap we get stuck in."

"I'm serious, Kim." John turns the flashlight down the new path. The air coming from that direction is thick and stagnate — Kim's imagination unhelpfully supplies a few images of killer clowns and deformed mutants to lurk down in the dark that way. God, why did she have to like horror movies so much? Why couldn't she have enjoyed normal, safe entertainment that wouldn't have filled her imagination with monsters and a deep-rooted fear of the unexplored dark?

It certainly doesn't help as John says, "I keep getting the feeling that we're being watched."

"Okay, that's it," Kim snaps, desperately trying to bury the surge of fear the suggestion fills her with. "I'm done being creeped out."

"I'm not trying to scare you —"

"Well, you're naturally gifted, okay? Look, let's just — we know that's the way out," she says, nodding towards the safer route. "Let's just go that way. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Agreed," John grunts.

John adopts a brisk walk that Kim has some trouble keeping up with, but she's not interested in slowing down for anything. She feels vindicated by their choice of exit as they pass a faded safety sign lying on the ground, as well as the decidedly fresher air coming in from what Kim expects to be the exit. There are a few moments where John has to resist breaking out into a jog; Kim can't exactly blame him, but his jitters are amping up her own anxiety, and now she's trying desperately to listen for chasing footsteps behind them. It's hard to hear much of anything over the blood pounding in her ears.

It's a massive relief when John finally slows down. "It must have been an animal," he says at last, casting one last look behind them. "God, I fucking hate being underground."

"Well, let's hope we aren't leading the mutants to the surface world," Kim jokes. It probably would land better if she didn't sound completely wiped.

John frowns at her, but the dark makes it hard to pin down his expression. "We're almost there," he says, which sounds alarming like a reassurance.

Her spirits lift as they pass an overturned rail barricade, but the wind is immediately taken out of her sails as they find the path blocked by a chained and padlocked gate. The thick gauge chain-link fence has been welded to brackets on the wall; the bottom has been bent outwards, likely from some angry animal forcing its way through. Unfortunately, it's too small for either of them to get through.

"For fuck's sake," John hisses between gritted teeth.

They're not going anywhere, and Kim's nausea forces her to find something more solid than John for support. She manages to stagger to the nearest wall before falling against it, but it's enough to make her regret moving at all.

At least she manages a weak thumbs up when John anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Just — giving you room to work," she gurgles, staggering a few feet back down the path before throwing up.

John swears under his breath as Kim tries to coax her headache back to something more manageable. She can hear him tearing at the gate behind her; if she weren't feeling so miserable, she'd probably be flipping out on it, too. As it is, she takes her sweet time to turn around and start back for the fence, watching as John tries to widen the gap left behind by some tenacious wolverine. It's going to wreck her arm to try and weasel through the hole, but Kim is willing to try anything at this point.

"How far are we from the truck?" Kim rasps. "Maybe Nick can hear us?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" John snaps, well past the end of his rope. Kim has to admit, she's surprised he made it this far. "God damn it, I don't know where we are any better than you!"

"Okay, point taken," Kim says — after all, she's in no position to argue with him. As it is, it's taking most of her focus to keep from sinking to the ground. As soon as she's sitting, she's going to pass out, and she's not in any position to be doing that yet.

Thankfully, Nick's voice reaches them before she can give up. A tidal wave of relief floods Kim at the sound of him calling her name; she staggers forward, gripping the chain-link with her good arm.

"Nick!" she shouts. The sound of her own voice bouncing off the walls only amplifies her pounding headache, but it doesn't stop her from shouting his name a few more times in desperation.

John grabs her good shoulder. "Careful," he says, "Take it easy."

"You take it easy," Kim snaps as Nick's voice bounces off the far-away cave entrance. Trying to glare at John is a mistake, as vertigo nearly sends her to the floor. The only thing that keeps her upright is John's grip on her arm, easing her back until she finds the wall for support.

"Let me handle it," he says.

Kim has no choice but to follow his orders, reeling against the wall as he picks up the impromptu game of Marco Polo. She's not sure how much time passes between her slow, long blinks, but all that matters is the moment that she sees Nick appear with the lantern held high. It's enough to bring her to tears — well, that and the dizzying pain — and from Nick's tearful shout, it's having the same effect on him.

"Oh, thank Christ," he gasps as he reaches the gate, rattling it with his free hand as if he could just pry it back. "Kim, you're alive! Are you okay?" He turns the full force of his relief on John, concern furrowing his brow. "Jesus, John, are you okay? We needa get that cut looked at."

"It's fine," John says. "You didn't see any keys anywhere, did you?"

"Let me go check the ticket booth," Nick replies. "Don't worry, you guys — I'm not about to let a goddamn padlock stop me."

Nick jogs back down the tunnel and Kim finally sags, sliding to the ground with a tired groan.

"Okay, John," she sighs, "Mission accomplished. Wake me up when we get home."

"Kim, hold on," John replies, but frankly there's no stopping her now. This was as far as she'd hoped to get on her own two feet, and honestly, she's surprised that she made it that far.

She does rouse briefly as Nick begins wailing on the padlock with a steel pipe, but that's something the boys can handle without her. Here and there, she registers hands on her, and dappled light flashes over her face as they finally escape the caves. The fresh air brings her back long enough to help Nick get her settled in the truck, but she's already dozing off by the time John and Nick start arguing again. The rest of the trip, for better or worse, is completely lost on her.

————

When Kim finally comes to, she's immediately met by the familiar sight of her room at home. She can't tell what time it is, only that it's late enough for the lamp to be lit. Judging by the voices downstairs, everyone is still awake — and going by the sling and bandages, they've had some company since she was last conscious. She allows herself to imagine the whole thing was all a horrible nightmare, just for a second, but the throbbing in her arm is already reminding her of the unfortunate truth. At least she can check "escape mutants in a tunnel" off of her bucket list.

She doesn't have long to focus on the slowly returning pain; it's not even a minute later that she hears boots on the stairs, and Nick pokes his head in not long after.

"Hey," is about all she can muster up before she has to clear her throat, but it's enough.

"Christ, Kim!" he exclaims, throwing open the door as he rushes to her side. The worry breaks on his face as he crouches beside her, careful not to jostle her broken arm. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Uh... not awesome," she admits, shifting in an attempt to sit up. Nick hurries to help her, and she can't help but smile at him as he piles the pillows behind her. "Better now, though."

"That's what I'm here for," Nick laughs, "That and making everybody else uncomfortable. They kept tellin' me not to worry, but you know how hard that is."

"They?"

"Well, John mostly, until Jerome and Grace showed up. Then I had to keep it together for Carmina, so that helped. Uh. How much do you remember about gettin' back here?"

"Not much," Kim says. Now that she's more conscious, she's able to discern the late evening light for what it is; it's been hours since she was last aware of where she was. "I... remember getting into the truck, I think? And then... Nothing. Why? What did I miss?"

Nick shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. "Nothing much, honest. Most of the ride back was me and John arguing about what to do. He radioed Jerome for help while I got you up here and settled in, then I called up Grace so she could keep Carmina busy until Jerome showed up with some help. I guess Winona, y'know, down at the Eagle? She was getting her nursing degree, or license, or whatever, so Jerome brought her over here to help out. She said it looked like a clean enough break, and John did a good job setting it, so we just had to make sure you wouldn't be accidentally moving in your sleep." He chuckles. "You know, real exciting stuff."

"Oh, boy," Kim groans, "I bet I scared the crap out of Carmina. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Worried about you, obviously, but Grace gave her a pep talk and we kept her busy downstairs. Figured you oughta be awake before she came to see you."

"Good call." Kim briefly debates whether or not getting out of bed is worth it, but she quickly decides against it. Even if she weren't wiped out, Nick looks like he'd fall apart with worry if she tried to exert herself. "You might have to go get her, because I don't think I could move if I wanted to."

"Don't even think about it," Nick says, pointing at her as he gets back to his feet. "You're on bed rest until tomorrow at least. I'll be right back."

Kim dozes for the few minutes that stretch between Nick leaving and Carmina coming up the stairs. It's impossible to fall back asleep, but the rest is good enough on its own. She makes sure to perk up when she hears Carmina coming up the stairs, smiling wide as her daughter enters the doorway.

"Hey, honey," she says, her voice rougher than she'd expected it to be.

"Mom!" Carmina exclaims, careful to avoid jostling Kim as she climbs into the bed on her good side. "I was so worried!"

Kim folds her arm around Carmina's shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "I know, sweetheart. I didn't mean to spook you."

"What happened? Dad said you and John fell into a cave!"

"That's pretty much it," Kim laughs. "We fell through a sinkhole into an old cave system. It used to be a place people could visit, though, so it wasn't hard to find our way out."

Carmina frowns, picking at a loose thread in the comforter. "But it was probably really dark. And your arm was broken, and John busted his head open, and..."

"First of all, his head wasn't busted open," Kim says, reaching up to ruffle Carmina's hair. "He probably needed a few stitches, sure, but he knew what he was doing, and we both made it out okay. And your dad got the flashlight to us, so we had plenty of light to see by."

Obviously, Kim never wants to go back to that awful place, but she needs her daughter to learn not to panic now, in case she ever has to go into those tunnels herself. There's no summer camp to enroll her in that will teach her how to be mindful of caves, so Kim's going to have to do it herself... She just wishes she'd gotten to it before she'd had her own scary experience.

Carmina huffs, frowning briefly at the door. "You were lucky John was there," she says.

Kim bites back on her knee-jerk reaction to scoff at the idea. "You're right," she admits, a little more reluctant to do so than she really should be.

"Nobody else thinks so," Carmina grumbles. "Grace got mad dad left you two down there and then Jerome got mad at John for getting you hurt and Winona was really mad that she had to give John stitches. I wanted to say something but dad wouldn't let me."

"That's because they have good reasons not to trust him," Kim points out, although that excuse is starting to wear a little thin, even with her. "They just need time."

Carmina groans. "I guess. I'm... just really glad you're okay."

Kim squeezes Carmina's shoulder. "Me too."

Carmina sighs. "So... what was it like?" she asks, unable to resist her curiosity any longer.

That's okay by Kim — she could use the distraction. "Well... it was dark, and chilly. It was really quiet — the only thing we could hear was water dripping on the walls and our footsteps. The tunnel wasn't very interesting... but there was a big cavern in the middle where we found the cache, covered in stalactites and stalagmites. You could see where they used to have lights rigged up, and they'd painted some of the rocks to glow in the dark."

"You didn't see any animals?" Carmina frowns. "I always thought animals would hide in the caves."

Kim absolutely will not be telling her daughter about John's creepy sense of danger, thanks. "You know, we didn't. There isn't a lot of food for rabbits or cougars in there, though. I think they usually prefer little caves, not big ones."

There are plenty more questions for Carmina to ask that Kim only barely knows the answers to. Thankfully, geography and natural history are easy to teach hands-on; while she's not about to go back to the cave they just escaped, there are a couple of old attractions she remembers visiting that might do the trick. Places with good gift shops and little museums and educational plaques everywhere to help Kim explain how basic geology works.

"If you want, we can do some cave exploring of our own one day," Kim offers. "I'll need some time to get better, first. And I'll have to find the right place. But when we have some free time..."

"That sounds fun," Carmina says. "Just don't fall into another one first?"

"I'll do my best. We'll, uh, teach you what to look for so you don't make the same mistake."

They talk for a little while longer about the cave systems that litter Hope County, but it's not exactly Kim's favorite topic right now. It's a relief when Carmina declares that she needs water; even more so when she offers to bring some up to Kim. She considers asking Carmina to relay her thanks to John, but it can honestly wait until morning. Hopefully by then, she'll have adjusted to the makeshift cast, although she suspects she'll have plenty of time to get used to it. How long does it take a broken bone to heal, she wonders? Probably a few months, at least. She's really going to have to take it easy, and hope that nothing catastrophic happens while she's down one working arm.

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

∞ - for Connor x reader obviously. If you want it of course :-D

∞ - for my muse being crushed by something and your muse finds them.

This post got so far away from me to the point I couldn’t do anything until I finished it. I have no clue why that happened. I hope this is still enjoyable. 

“SJ, ready for your walk?” Connor asked the large pup currently lounging on the couch. Sumo Jr rolled off the couch and ran over, dancing around excitedly, tail smacking the wall. “Shh! You have to be quiet or you’ll wake Y/n." 

It was yours and Connor’s day off, so sleeping in was a must for you. While you prefer to wake next to Connor, SJ was used to his walk at 6:30 am and Connor was a busy body. He loves holding you, but staying still is hard for him so he just ends up disturbing your slumber. Instead, he uses this time to spoil SJ and maybe try some new hobbies.

Today, he intends to take SJ to the dog park, then stop by the local hobby store, afterward, he will pick you up your favorite pastry for breakfast (or brunch if you decide to sleep in later than usual). He doesn’t know what to do after that, but it’s a nice day, so he thinks he can convince you to come with him to the farmer’s market. Connor likes to watch the bees at the honey table.

He quickly clips SJ’s leash on and leads him out before he could make any more noise. As wonderful as you usually are, sleep deprivation is a surefire way to make you hostile. 

Connor takes his usual route, enjoying the sun shining down. There was a cool breeze today, so he opted for his dark gray tracksuit. You laugh at him for his need to always match, but he knows you find him attractive when he does. The android looks around the neighborhood, seeing the previously barren gardens showing signs of spring, some even sporting flowers already. SJ would stop on occasion, smelling a dandelion growing through the sidewalk or finding the scent of another dog. 

The dog park was only a few blocks from yours and his shared house. Connor liked that he could take SJ here whenever he wanted. Both androids and humans alike use the park, so he felt safe letting SJ run around and mingle with the other dogs. Connor could already see the Santiago’s Jack Russell Terrier, Napoleon, waiting for his friend to arrive at the gate. The little dog was jumping up and down, making a fuss as they crossed the street. It made him smile.

-

Next thing Connor recognized, he was on the ground. Did… Did SJ pull him down? Why can’t he get up? He realized his hands were empty. Where’s SJ? In the distance, Connor could hear the sound of a car, and it was getting closer. Just as he turned his head to the sound, the car backed over him, tires ran over his lower back and legs, the weight of the vehicle crushing him. The speed made him roll, further disorienting him while warnings flashed in his vision. He cleared them all out, trying to see where the car is. It was a little ways down the road, waiting. He could just barely make out the license plate no before the warnings popped up once more.

The car’s engine revs. He needs to get out of the road. He tried to claw his way to the sidewalk, but he couldn’t move fast enough. It was speeding back towards him. He tried frantically to move, panicking. 

Someone gripped onto his jacket, quickly dragging him out of the way just in time. The car sped off and Connor can only hope it won’t come back. A tongue ran over his face, prompting him to roll over and look at his hero.

"Good boy, SJ, ” Connor murmured, patting him on the head. The dog only whined, licking his face once more.

Connor built up the courage to look down at himself, needing to assess the damage. He knows his lower body is disconnected from his spine, unable to move or feel his legs. One of his thighs was bent inward, the structure snapped. His ankles were also crushed, and he was missing a foot. 

“Y-Y/n is going to be pissed, ” Connor jokes, trying not to panic. You just replaced his leg earlier this year when he was shot in the knee. His parts weren’t cheap to replace. SJ perked up at the mention of your name, looking around. He suddenly dashed off.

“SJ? Heel!” The dog didn’t follow his directives, leaving Connor alone. A countdown was on his HUD.

13 minutes 47 seconds

In less than 14 minutes, he will bleed out. He tried calling for assistance, for the police, for you, but his calls kept dropping. The Santiago’s often leave their dog at the park to get coffee, so they likely won’t be back until it’s too late. Connor was going to die here, alone on the sidewalk. There would be no replacement, no second chances. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was such a nice day. He should have just stayed home. Take SJ on a walk around the block and return home. Crawl back into bed with you and hold you close. He’d give anything to have that chance again. All he can do is lie here, staring up at a clear blue sky, wishing you were here.

……..

The scratching and barking at the front door woke you up. What the hell was SJ doing? And where the hell was Connor? He was going to tear the front door apart! You threw on your robe and slippers and made your way to the door, ready to reprimand the bad pooch. 

Instead, you opened the door and screamed.

In front of SJ, on your doorstep, was Connor’s foot, still wearing his tennis shoe.

………

7 minutes 19 seconds

Connor was starting to feel cold. A few cars drove by, but nobody stopped. So much for being a safe neighborhood. He was still trying to call for help, but it felt useless. It kept him from thinking about his fate. How he will never get to see Hank again, watch Sumo and SJ play together, or invite his younger brother Nines over for a game of basketball. Connor won’t get to see you again. Hear you whispering your love close to his ear. He’d even take you yelling at him for doing something reckless. 

“Connor!” He jolted at your voice, looking around for the source. He found you, practically being dragged by SJ, cell phone against your ear, and your small emergency kit over your shoulder. You weren’t even dressed, running over in your robe, wearing your shoes without socks, your hair still a mess. He had never been happier to see you.

You crouch next to him, pulling out a thirium pack and giving him the small tube to drink from. 

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna be alright. You’ll be fine, ” you reassured. Connor looked terrible. His clothes were torn and it was clear his legs were unusable. You placed your hand on his knee. “Can you feel this?”

“No, ” he answered, quickly finishing the first thirium pack, relieved as the number climbed back up to 12 minutes 31 seconds. You set him up with a second one then placed your hand on his thigh, squeezing slightly.

“How about that? Do you feel that?” He shook his head, “Okay… It’s okay, ” you stroked his head, something he finds comforting, “help is on the way. I called it in, and they’re gonna take you to the hospital.” You worked to slow the bleeding. SJ laid close to Connor’s head, pushing his front paws under his head.

“SJ… Deserves a… Deserves a treat… When we get home, ” Connor gasped out. He was having trouble breathing.

“He can have a prime rib dinner every night for the rest of his life for all I care, and sleep in bed even during the summer, ” you chuckle, though it turns into a sob. Connor reached up and wiped away your tears.

“He’d be overweight like… Like his father, ” he smiled. He didn’t want to tell you the countdown only went up a minute after the second pouch. He was starting to overheat. “If something… If something happens, I want you to know… I love you… You’re all I would… Or ever could want.”

“I already know that, because I feel the same way about you, but you are going to be fine. I can hear the sirens, ” you could, and around the corner, you saw his emergency transport.

“I… I know… I just wanted to… Let you know, ” Connor was still smiling, happy that you were here. He knows his survival rate, he just needed to tell you. The emergency technicians rushed over. “Take SJ home… I’ll meet you at the hospital.” Before they could load him on the gurney, you bent down and kissed him.

“I love you, Con. I’ll see you there, ” you tried to smile for him. Stroking his head one more time before letting them carry him off. You stand there, SJ at your feet, watching as your lover is toted off. You wanted so much to jump into the ambulance with him, ride with him to the hospital so you know he gets there safely, but SJ would be left here, and he doesn’t deserve that, especially since it was him who saved Connor in the first place. 

You watch as the ambulance speeds off, staring even after it was out of sight. One of the officers whose name escapes you said that someone would meet you at the hospital to get your statement. It wasn’t until you heard SJ whine that you looked down, grabbed his leash and made the trek home.

…………

You sat in the waiting room, Hank on one side and Nines on the other. They were already here by the time you made it to the hospital, having been informed of the incident by the department before you even had the chance to call them. Hank had his arm thrown over the back of your chair and Nines was holding your forearm, offering comfort in their own ways. 

You kept thinking back to what you saw, Connor lying on the ground, so broken. You’ve seen the android beaten and battered in many ways, but it has always been for work. He was just out walking the dog. It was a completely normal and safe thing to do and someone decided to run him over. It just… It didn’t make sense. Connor was a detective, working with dangerous people all the time, and he already didn’t have the best track record for self-preservation, yet he was almost killed on his day off. 

Nines felt angry. His older brother has been through enough. Connor deserves to be able to enjoy the happiness he has found, not live in fear about what’s literally around the corner. Once he is sure Connor was okay, he will ask for whatever info the RK800 has and track down the person or people responsible for this. 

Nines knows Hank feels the same. He had taken the two androids in as his own family. Anyone that would hurt them will have hell to pay. The only thing keeping Hank from going off the rails is you. It was obvious you were in some sort of shock, just staring at nothing in particular. Usually, when Connor is damaged, you pace or bite your nails. Nines deduced that the fact this was the first time he was injured off duty was likely what put you in this state. You let your guard down at home, and now someone has torn that security apart. Nines wasn’t very good at comfort, but you usually respond well to physical contact.

“It’s a pretty brutal reminder, isn’t it?” You ask aloud, still staring out.

“Of what?” Hank grumbled.

“That because Connor is an android, he’ll always be a target for somebody to aim at, ” you answered, melancholic.

“How do you know it is because he is an android?” Nines enquired. You stopped staring off and looked at him, as if the answer was obvious.

“You don’t get those kinds of injuries by a simple hit and run, ” you ground out between clenched teeth, “I’ve seen just what vehicles can do to an android. This was deliberate!”

Nines looked down, trying to avoid confrontation. There was a high probability you were right, that this was a hate crime, but it wasn’t definite. Facts are not what you need right now. You need something to direct your anger at to avoid lashing out at those you care for. That, he can understand.

“Anderson?” A nurse called, prompting the three to stand. He led them to a room down the hall. Connor was sitting up in a hospital bed, a wheelchair sitting next to it.

“Connor!” You exclaim, going over and hugging him. He happily welcomed it. 

“You alright, son?” Hank asked, moving next to the bed and ruffling Connor’s hair.

“More or less.”

“He’s still disconnected from his lower body, ” Nines stated with a frown, prompting you to back up and look at Connor with concern. The RK800 sighed, annoyed that his hug was interrupted.

“You scanned me, ” Connor looked to his loved ones. 

“Explain, ” Nines turned to someone else in the room, which you had not noticed until now. Seeing that it was Nines addressing him, you guessed it was the technician, but he was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, especially with Nines bearing down on him.

“I-I’m the… The RK800’s technician-” he stammered, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.

“Connor, ” you hissed, “his name is Connor.” Your open hostility made the timid man stumble back. Your eyes burned, an anger that was just waiting to pour out on the first unsuspecting victim. Connor always appreciates how protective you are, feeling cherished, but he’d prefer if you didn’t eat the technician. He tugged on your sleeve to get your attention. When you leaned forward, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down. You melted against him instantly, but you still threw your arm over his shoulders protectively while glaring at the technician.

“Right, sorry, Connor’s technician. My name is Dr. Williams. I overlooked- I mean, oversaw Connor’s operation. While we were able to repair most of it- him, the-the joint that connects Connor’s spine to his pelvis needs to be completely replaced, and we don’t have one for his specific model.”

“What? So Connor’s permanently paralyzed?” Hank exclaimed. 

Dr. Williams shrank back from the large man. He wished the nurse could have handled this instead. He liked it better when all he had to do was fix a busted robot. There was no need to explain technicalities to a machine.

“No, no, we already put in the order to Cyberlife, but because it, I mean, he, is a unique model, it will take about a week to get here. We’ll be able to fix him, but until then, he will need to use a wheelchair. Connor is free to go home and we will call when the part comes in, ” the doctor’s pager went off and he had never been more thankful, “if you will excuse me.”

“Thank you, ” you mumble, burying your face against Connor as tears started rolling down your cheeks. Nines nodded to the doctor as he scurried out. 

“Looks like you’ll be on leave fer a week, ” Hank addresses Connor. 

“Why can’t I be on desk duty?” Connor implored. He could still fill out paperwork or go over evidence. He could still be useful.

“Androids are not fond of downtime, lieutenant. You know that, ” Nines added.

“And I ain’t fond of watchin’ Connor try to wheel himself ‘round the bullpen or get down the stairs to the evidence locker. One week won’t kill ya, ” Hank groused. 

“I could assist him, ” Nines offered.

“No, you’ll be helpin’ me catch the son of a bitch that ran his ass over.”

“Actually, he missed my ass, ” Connor smirked, feeling you giggle against him. Hank’s patience was wearing thin, eye twitching.

“Do you have any information on the perpetrator?” Nines asked. Connor held out his hand, transferring the data he had collected. The RK900 instantly ran the plate number into the database.

“The car belongs to a Jerald Elkins, ” he concluded.

“Jerald Elkins? Fuck, ” Hank spoke what Connor was thinking. They had helped put his brother behind bars two years ago for android trafficking. 

“We need to get an arrest warrant, ” Nines stated, already moving to the door. He wants this man off the street as soon as possible. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Just wait a damn minute! We need to get Connor home first, ” Hank snapped. 

“I can take care of him, ” you sat up.

“Yeah, right. I can tell by just lookin’ at ya that yer nerves are shot. You’ll collapse the moment you try to pick 'im up, ” Hank brought the wheelchair closer to the bed. You know he was just taking your welfare into consideration, but you still pouted. Watching Connor pull himself onto the wheelchair, you never felt so useless. You should have woken up earlier, rather than overindulge in unnecessary sleep. Should have taken SJ, or at least went with him. Even with his injuries, there wasn’t much you could do, only able to minimize the bleeding, and now you couldn’t even be trusted to take him home. 

Nines noticed your shift in demeanor, the volatile emotional state likely stress-based, but lack of nutrition could also be a contributing factor. You hadn’t eaten anything this entire time, likely all day. If you are to take care of his brother, you will need your strength. He put his hand on your shoulder, giving a small, reassuring squeeze, then letting go. You gave him a wry smile. 

Connor wheeled himself out, the three following you to your car.

“You alright to drive?” Hank asked.

“I will drive, ” Nines answered immediately.

“It’s a switch car, guys. It can drive itself, ” you retorted with a roll of your eyes. Connor snickered, helping himself into the passenger seat. 

“I can handle it from here, ” you smiled at the two but Nines stepped forward.

“I’m coming with you. Your house isn’t wheelchair accessible.”

“You’re not actually giving me a choice, are you?”

“No.” Nines climbed into the backseat. You sighed, turning to Hank and giving him a hug.

“We’ll get that mother fucker, ” he muttered.

“I know you will, ” you pulled out of the hug, “See you later.”

“Yeah. Let me know if ya need anything. And you-” he gestured to Nines, shouting, “-Once you get Connor settled, get yer ass back to the department. I ain’t dealin’ with Gavin’s dumbass attitude.” Nines nodded and faced forward. His way of saying 'let’s get going already’.

Once on the road, every small bump made Connor wince. The broken connection kept rubbing together, pain erupting up his spine, a headache spawning from it.

“Turn off your sensors, ” came Nines’ deadpan response.

“You turn off your sensors, ” Connor shot back. He didn’t care if it was a childish response, he hated turning off his sense of touch, even if it was inconvenient. The car hit a pothole, a grunt escaping him. You took his hand, interlacing his fingers and kissed his knuckles.

“We’ll be there soon, love, ” he nodded, leaning his head on your shoulder. You gave him a peck on the forehead before leaning back. 

Nines was annoyed and a little bit envious. A part of him, that he refuses to admit exists, yearns for that kind of care and attention from his own brash detective. It took him so long just to be on level ground with him, even being considered a comrade. Nines is happy with his progress, considering where he started, but he’d still like to mean something more in Gavin’s eyes.

Just as the car was pulling into the driveway, another car pulled up on the curb, the logo of a local pizzeria mounted on the top. You assumed one of the neighbors ordered it until Nines climbed out and went over, giving the man some cash and taking the food. He handed it to you and worked to get the wheelchair out of the trunk.

“When? Why?” You were baffled.

“You need to eat and that is the only item I know you to eat” he answered, matter of fact. 

“Oh, well, thank you, ” you were still dumbfounded, but pleasantly surprised. With the events of the day, you hadn’t eaten anything, and now, in your moment of calm, your stomach is letting you know of the abuse. 

Nines only nodded, holding the chair still while Connor worked his way out of the car. Moving ahead of them, you unlocked the door, SJ already waiting inside. When he saw Connor being wheeled in by Nines, he started trembling, moving around excitedly with his tail swishing back and forth. Once Connor passed the doorway inside, the large pup could hold back no longer, jumping up into the chair and licking Connor’s face. Had it been anyone other than Nines pushing the chair, the sheer force would have sent Connor back out the door and off the porch.

“Good boy, SJ, Good boy!” Connor exclaimed between tongue licks, scratching at the dog’s neck and ears.

Unlike his predecessor, Nines did not have the same propensity with dogs. He developed more of an attachment to cats. They generally require little care and are independent, deciding when they need attention. the RK900 would be lying, however, if he said he wasn’t impressed by SJ’s devotion to his brother. Nines quickly pets SJ’s head in thanks before stepping back.

“I will be back tomorrow to check-in, ” Nines stated as he backed out. A self-driving taxi already pulling up.

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Nines, ” you had just grabbed a slice of pizza. You didn’t expect him to stick around, but you thought he’d last longer than a minute. 

Connor grabbed his little brother’s wrist, connecting with him.

'Thank you, Nines. I really appreciate your help.’

'Of course.’

“I love you, brother.’

Nines nodded, trying to leave. He was never good at expressing emotions, even familiar bonds. Connor still had him by the wrists, a shit-eating grin on his face.

'I’m not letting go until you say it.’

 Nines sighed, blushing slightly in embarrassment. Sure, he could easily break away, but he won’t deny his brother a simple joy just because he isn’t good with emotions,  'I love you, too.’ Connor let him go, smiling.

"Thank you, Nines, ” Connor spoke aloud while Nines left.

“Nines is such a weirdo. Badass with a heart of gold, ” you commented, already grabbing another slice.

“You’re going to make yourself sick eating that fast, ” Connor turned to you. 

“Can’t help it, I’m starving, ” and possibly stress eating, but a little overindulgence every once in a while can’t hurt. Connor wheeled over to you, laying himself down on your lap. You stopped eating. “You okay?” You knew he wasn’t, it was just the easiest way to get him to talk.

“I didn’t know there was a fate worse than death, ” he mumbles against you.

“What?”

“Dying alone." 

Suddenly, you weren’t so hungry. 

"Oh, Connor, ” you stroked along his back, tangling one hand in his hair.

“I couldn’t call anyone. The impact on the pavement disabled my connection. I still kept trying despite it. When SJ left, I didn’t know where he was going or what he was doing, but when he left, I was alone. People drove right by, but nobody stopped. I might as well not have existed.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, ” you whispered. He shot up.

“No, I’m not blaming you. I just haven’t been in a situation where help might not come, at least, not for a while, ” he thinks back to the Stratford Tower incident. It felt like it was so long ago, “SJ went to get you and you found me. You saved me.” You leaned forward and kissed him.

“And I always will. I’ll never give up on you.” Connor felt warm, basking in your words. The two of you were lost in each other’s eyes, broken only when SJ came up, dropping something in Connor’s lap.

“Oh my God! SJ! Why?” You exclaimed. Connor stared for a moment before laughing.

“Good boy, SJ." 

At least he didn’t lose his shoe.

[bloodredx]

Day 27: Midnight

The old bell at the center of Reedsdale sang out its chime, the low echoes of the metallic clang reverberated around the buildings to let folks know it was far too late to be out and about. Didn’t stop anyone though. There were parties to go to, bars to sample, and the night to enjoy. Bones didn’t have to count the chimes to know what time it was, midnight on the nose. And where was that pain in the ass little mage? He was the one who wanted to meet him, not the other way around. He could be sleeping, or at least at home if rest would not find him. Sometimes it was just too much of a pain to come all the way into town from the deep swamp. Especially when the waters were high.

He leaned against a nearby lamp post, contemplating whether or not to just bail. While he was rarely on time himself, he didn’t mind not extending any courtesies to those who would waste time themselves. He made note of the cobbled streets, counting a few stones before becoming bored of the action. He had intentionally chosen a more residential side of Reedsdale, so as to have some level of privacy. There were far too many still out and about downtown for Bones to feel comfortable meeting someone like Pria without incident.

Feeling a rush of cold air, Bones glanced to his left, seeing a flash of black cloth settle into the outline of the boy. “Hey Pria.” He grunted without much fanfare, pulling a cigarette from the box in his pocket.

“Salutations.” The ever so cheerful voice shined back. Bones had never seen the kid’s face, but nothing he could picture ever matched the tone he always spoke in.

“What ya want from me? I ain’t got much time, so make it quick.” Bones flicked his lighter, igniting his smoke with a single motion.

“One has as much time as needed.” Pria noted, seeming to bounce on their toes before continuing. “Have you ever noticed how thin the air gets at midnight?”

Raising a brow, Bones grunted a single “No.” It was a lie of course, he had been around enough to know that the world felt different at midnight, but it held no other significance to him. But it was in his nature to play the idiot, and let people explain their purposes.

“Magic just seems easier.” Pria concluded, a slight clap to their hands. “Air tastes better too.”

“And ya brought me all the way into town to just say that?”

“Sure, why not? You fascinate me, Bones. I quite enjoy your company. Wouldn’t you want to spend time with fellow wielders at such an hour?”

“I ain’t much for playin’ with magic unneeded.” His eyes again wandered over the cobbles, thinking longingly for the road back home and back to bed. “I also haven’t spent much ‘round other mages, at least not formally. Too stiff with all their rules, colleges ain’t a place for me.”

There was a soft silence, before Pria took a step forward. “You don’t like me much.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact. There wasn’t much emotion attached to it either.

“Can’t say I’mma fan of anyone dragging me into town this late.”

“Aw, don’t say that. All the fun things happen after midnight. It allows us to do things like this.”

A low roar was heard in the distance, and the sound of stomping feet were getting louder with every step. Bones didn’t know why he was so surprised, but he leapt into the air, summoning his staff, bracing himself for the sight of whatever weird creation Pria had come up with now. He turned his head to yell at the boy, but as usual he was already gone. Bones bit his lip and rushed to meet the beast head on.

In Pria’s usual fashion in making nightmare creatures, this thing was massive. It nearly reached three stories in height, its sewn skin dripping off of it in pieces, leaving a convenient trail to follow if Bones ever lost sight of it, but how could you lose sight of such a large beast? Antlers jutted out on all the joints, splitting between exposed muscles. If the sight alone wouldn’t make one vomit, the smell certainly did. How did he keep this thing under wraps for so long? Bones sneered as he began to doubt his own senses, normally he’d sense this creature the second it was animated. Perhaps there was something else in play here. That could be solved later, right now he had to at least get this thing out of town, and then destroy it somehow without getting its foul flesh all over his body.

Bones stuck his fingers between his lips, blowing a shrill whistle to get the monster’s attention. “Hey big boy, come’n get it!” He waved his free hand and began to fly down the street, leading towards the tree line.

The beast opened its maw and released a horrendous roar, turning to follow the tempting prize of the necromancer. At least it was stupid and sight oriented. “That’s it, come play with me! What, ya so pathetic ya can’t even fly? Your master must not love ya at all.”

It flexed its muscles, crouching to build up tension and then releasing it all at once flinging its weight several hundred feet forward. “Aw, hell.”

Bones dodged at the last possible second, the monster passing him easily. Note, bad plan to taunt it too much. Could cause needless destruction. Just as he was pondering what to do next, a buzz reminded him of the flip phone in his pocket. “What now?” He flipped the phone open. “Make it quick. Got my hands full.”

“Where are you?” Icarus’s voice squeaked through the speaker.

“Tryin’ to keep the neighborhood from bein’ ripped apart.” The monster roared again, as if wanting a part in the conversation. “Where the hell are ya?”

“Walking to town, what the hell was that?”

“A pain in my ass, can ya get down to the east side and give me a hand?”

“I’ll try.”

“Ya better.” Bones slammed the phone shut and refocused on leading it away. They were so close to being out of harm’s way.

Bones jet himself forward, focusing inward to feel the skeletal structure of this thing, maybe he could take over influence of its action. They were too far from any known burial sites for him to summon any assistance, and who knows how long it would take Icarus to arrive, or if he’d be any help at all. But if he could hijack its energy, maybe he could just bend it to his will. Bones’s eyes glowed purple, trying to make out what made this thing tick, seeing the aura of magic moving over its body was fascinating. There were so many connection points and the system seemed to be finely tuned. He couldn’t directly notice a weak point. But there were flares when it charged up to move, as if it had limited capacity to hold together, it was leaking energy something fierce. How did Pria manage to get this thing moving in the first place? He must’ve tricked several mages into powering its core, there was no other way to get that much force from one person. Let alone a kid.

A rustle of branches let Bones now Icarus had just arrived, not to mention to shriek of fear once he laid eyes on it. “What the fuck is that?!?”

“Doesn’t matter, help me kill it.” Bones growled, beginning to chant wards to block the beast from moving further.

It screamed once it realized its muscles were locking up, turning to spitting up whatever bile was circulating in it. Icarus was fear struck, he had never seen anything like this, or heard about monsters of this size. His hands shook as he tried to figure out exactly where he should start on such a being. He slit his palm, forming one of his throwing knives in his hands. This would be such a waste of blood, and he cursed himself for coming out to this at all.

He threw the blade at the beast’s knee, trying to cut the sinews that gave it mobility, the blade struck alright, but didn’t seem to make much of a dent. It only proceeded to make the thing even more pissed off, Icarus knew this due to the blow a swinging fist that caught him to the side, the force throwing him into the tree tops.

“Shit.” Bones whispered between chants, lowering his altitude to see if Icarus was alright. The stirring of leaves let him know the vampire was at least still alive. That was good. What was not so good was the beast winding up to get him next. He had to end this right now. “I’m gonna hate life no matter what, so here we go.”

With little choice, Bones flung himself into the chest of the beast, grabbing onto portions of exposed ribcage, and willing his magic directly into the conglomeration of bones. His body screamed at the dishonor of touching such a filthy thing, the image of whatever ooze, bile, and other miscellaneous filth covering his hands. Just a minute longer, he could freak out in a minute, just take this thing down.

Icarus freed himself from the leaves, dropping down to gear up from a more close range attack, snapping his dislocated should back into the socket. He was pissed, feeling the heat rising into his hands, so he summoned a new knife. He would make that thing regret its every move. He rushed forward, realizing that his leg wasn’t properly centered but he would worry about healing later. The lust of adrenaline was controlling him now. His new blade sunk into its leg, and he pulled it out, slashing and tearing at the flesh like a mad man.

Glowing purple runes suddenly bubbled up to the surface of its flesh, giving Icarus enough warning to leap back. The beast screamed as flesh flung off its body in a sick rain of gore, increasing in speed until only the bones remained. The light of its eyes went out, collapsing to the ground. “Well that went well.” Icarus moaned in pain as the adrenaline wore off. His senses came back for a moment, where the hell was Bones?

He carefully moved around the monster, looking through coagulates of flesh, moving bone and marrow around, listening for the telltale sound of the mage’s heartbeat. He rolled over the ribcage, finding him unconscious underneath and leaking black smoke out of his mouth. “Fuck.”

He picked up his ooze-covered friend and ran back to the house. He needed to call Lady Serena right now. Nothing good was about to happen, he could feel it in his blood. His mother always told him nothing good happened after midnight, and now more than ever he knew what she meant. He just hoped there was time to fix this.

(OC-tober prompt list by @oc-growth-and-development can be found here)

[kxhlzn]

[iii.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, ANGST, fluff, slight crack.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader, unrequited!bev/reader, eventual benverly, eventual reddie (possibly unrequited.)

➳ wordcount: 5.9k

➳ warning(s): profanity, sexual comments, ANGST, jokes about 80s AIDS, hurt feelings, fireworks (don't try this at home, kids!)

➳ song rec: flowers in your hair by the lumineers.

➳ author's note(s): sorry i made richie cry, i hate myself too lmfao. also i love stan. that's all. that's the post. give me some recs on what you'd like to see happen to them in the future! :)

July, 1989.

the rain is constant; pattering, almost as if it expects you to open your window and let it sneak into your bedsheets, like a sneaky, horny, little teenager. except, the only teenager creeping through your window tonight is mischevious richie tozier, head full of grand ideas and schemes.

his hair is sopping when he slams on the glass, and you nearly lose ten years of your life at the scare. most of the terror racing through you isn't because you're shocked by his presence, but rather you didn't really want him to see your arms full of letters and graham crackers. he stares at you a moment, his glasses dripping with water, as a single crumb trickles onto the floor from the corner of your mouth. you consider, for a moment, that he didn't see it, but from the small smirk that appears on his lips, you know you were caught. he's crouched on the roof beside your window, tapping his knee patiently.

you don't rush to make a move, either, as you both have a staredown; richie is uncharacteristically patient, you notice, and it makes you loosen your grip on the items momentarily. but then, richie slips, and you throw them all on the bed and make a break for the window. once you've tossed it open, richie is already steady, his hands splayed out at hip height. he's preparing himself in case he slips again.

"what do you want, trashmouth?" you quip, propping the window open. you glance at the surrounding area behind him, and the sky is a deep grey. the trees are heavy with water, puddles scattered across the ground. what on earth could he need at this time?

"so, i got this cool idea," he says, gripping the sill as he slides through the crack of your window. now, he's got water dripping all over the floor, and you scowl at him as he shakes his head like a dog, flinging droplets across your bedroom. "what if we buy fireworks?"

you don't miss a beat. "what?"

"like, you know, fireworks. for fourth of july? i might know a guy."

"seriously? that'd be so cool!" you say, picturing lighting off rockets into the sky, at the quarry. richie nods in excitement, collapsing on the floor beside your bed, leaning his head against your sheets. one knee is propped up, and his arm slings comfortably on it. the water drips onto his (for once) solid color grey t-shirt and plaided black pajama pants.

"right?" richie agrees, "you can thank me later. i already told 'im to buy them. 'said he'll get back to me soon. what are those?"

you blink at him a moment, and draw your attention to where he is focused. he's eyeing the pile of letters on your bed behind him, and he starts to get grabby as he digs through them.

you jolt forward, swatting at his hands. "they're, uh... letters? to? someone?"

"your pops?"

"what? no. well, actually, most of 'em, yeah."

"he ever respond to the ones you sent last year?" richie asks softly, peering at you when you take a hesitant seat on your bed, near richie's mop of hair.

"nope," you shrug, "but it's worth a try to send some more, ya know?"

"nah. you're trying too hard, babyface. you ever think that maybe it's time to toss the towel in?" richie's hand lands on your knee, but you jerk away from him.

"toss the towel in? what the fuck, richie?" you stand, quickly, and take a few cautious steps away from him.

"no, urgh, listen. i just hate seeing you hurt yourself like this—" he stands, too, stretching his long legs in a couple strides toward you.

"what's so fucking wrong with me writing a letter to my dad?"

"it's stupid! i just think—"

"you're just pissed 'cause yours sits a room away from you, and he talks to you less than mine!" you bite, and you immediately regret it, a sour flavor sitting on your tongue.

"fuck you!" richie barks, pointing an accusatory finger at you. his voice cracks in the process. "at least my dad bothered to stay! i wasn't so fucking bitchy that he disappeared into the night, not able to deal with having me for a kid!"

you want to snap back, but you're afraid your voice will betray you, so you merely open and close your mouth like a fish. richie's shoulders are heaving, eyes blown wide enough to rival the size of his actual face, with the glasses magnifying them so much. his fists are clenching and unclenching, consistently while you stand in tense silence.

"you're right," you whisper, mostly to yourself, and you cradle your arms against your chest. you lean up against your wall and slide down until your arms hug your knees. richie gapes, mutters out a few incoherent words, and then collapses in front of you, his hands on your arms.

"no, fuck, no, i shouldn't have said that. i didn't mean it. we're both tired, and hungry, and frustrated. that was such an asshole thing for me to say," he sputters out, and he pulls your head into the crook of his neck while he coos softly.

"it's okay, i didn't mean what i said, either. i think, i just, i know you were right about the tossing in the towel thing, but i.. i just don't think i'm ready to, you know?" you mumble into his shoulder, and he nods.

"that's okay, it was just a suggestion, babyface. you want to send him a letter? fuck it, let's do it."

"okay."

you spend the next ten minutes sealing the letters up, stamping them, and tossing them into your desk drawer for later. you sit comfortably in your chair, finishing up writing the address on the last one, when richie hums to himself.

"what?" you ask, spinning around to face him. he holds a letter up from his seat on your bed, sitting crisscrossed. his magnified eyes are glued to the words.

"nothing, you just missed one. except, it's not for your pops..."

"what do you mean? i didn't write one for anyone e—..." and it dawns on you. "richie, can i have that letter, please?"

"uh, yeah, nope... 'dear beverly marsh—'"

"richie, god, please!" you fling yourself at him, and he screams, throwing his hand up so you can't reach it while you climb over him. there are a few grunts as you dig various body parts into his flesh, grabbing for the paper, but he's not having it.

"why the hell are you— ouch! —writing a letter to bev?" richie questions, shoving at you a bit to get a good look at the piece of lined paper. "is it a looove letter?"

your silence forces you both to stop your movements, and the pink on your cheeks makes richie blink a few times.

"wait..." he begins, "does that.. do you.. do you like beverly?"

"what does that even mean? 'like'? of course i like her, she's one of my best friends! why wouldn't i? she's kind, and pretty, and one of the best people i know."

"yeah, okay, but do you want to stick your hand down her pants?"

"richard tozier!"

"well, you know what i mean."

"unfortunately, yeah, i do. but... that's not.. i can't, you know, like her like that. she's a girl," you squirm, scooting over to the headboard of the bed. richie leans up next to you, his shoulder bumping yours.

"so she's a girl. if she were a dude, would you do it?" richie presses.

"do what?"

"stick your hand—"

"beep, beep, richie!"

"what i'm saying is, if she were a guy, would you like her?"

"uh, i don't know, i guess," you admit, your hands in your lap. you bite your lip.

"then what's it fucking matter?" he asks, brows curved inward, "just admit it."

you blink at him, kind of understanding where he's coming from. you suppose you never could accept how you felt because it's the 80s, and you're in derry, so same-sex relations remain strictly platonic. you wonder if others have felt, or feel, the same way you do. maybe it's not so bad. maybe you can say it out loud, to someone.

"i have a crush on beverly marsh."

it feels empowering. like you could stand on top of your roof and scream it to the entire world, make everyone know that you, a small-town girl in maine, likes another girl. it feels empowering, but also incriminating— like you have something to hide, like you should be guilty for feeling this way.

guilty of what? loving another human being?

"well, shockingly, that's not the most lesbian thing you've ever said to me," richie quips.

"beep, beep, richie."

"anyway," he clicks his tongue, desperate to change the subject, "so the fireworks. what's your game plan?"

"right. well, we'll probably have to ask bill to tell eddie's mom that they're studying. you know how she gets when me or bev call— rant about how he can't hang with us 'cause we'll force him into an orgy 'n shit," you laugh dryly.

"wouldn't mind an orgy with her," richie whistles lowly.

"her, and who else? stan's mom? she's too high-strung for that."

"with my charms? pft, please," he replies, signaling down his body.

you roll your eyes. "oh, for sure, she'll be on her knees in no time."

"nah, she'd break a hip."

you laugh. "okay, focus— so you got the fireworks, bill's got eddie's mom—" ("he'd better share!") and everyone else should be able to make it. bev and ben can sneak out, and mike is pretty much free to go wherever. i can convince stan's mom that we're spending the night at bill's, with supervision. she likes me, but i can't be sure she won't think i'm trying to fuck the jew out of him."

"he wouldn't mind."

"seriously, richie, learn when to shut the fuck up," you scold, and he laughs, "anyways— do ya think mike could scrounge up a picnic again, or should i go over to bill's to make one? i think mike would want to do it..."

"yeah," richie yawns, and he leans on your shoulder. you sigh softly, sweep his hair away from his face, and slip his glasses off, onto the bedstand. "should prolly head home."

"no, it's pouring out. you've stayed here before," you tell him, pushing him off of you so you can turn the light out. by the time you've turned yourself around, he's hogging all of the blankets and you frown. rolling your eyes, you mutter something along the lines of "didn't get to eat my graham crackers", and you stash them under your desk.

crawling beside richie, you kick him with your leg as a sign to scoot his ass over, or else. he doesn't listen at first, but another heel in his side, and he's doing as he's told. (richie won't admit it, but he likes being the little spoon); you wrap your arms around his torso and poke his back with your nose as you prepare yourself for sleep.

after a few minutes, richie turns over slightly, glancing at your face. when he is convinced you've fallen asleep, he sighs softly and bites his lip— there are so many things he wishes he could tell you. so many secrets. after hearing you admit you like bev, he feels safer; like someone can relate to him, like he's not alone. it would be the first time he ever admitted it, even to himself.

richie doesn't know you're even listening, but having you next to him makes it easier to say out loud. "okay, so uh, listen... i think.. i think i'm like you, okay? i think i like..."

he's quiet for a moment, but now you're focused; you hadn't been asleep yet, but this is odd of him. you sigh, and snuggle up against him. "eddie. it's okay."

his breath hitches, and he chokes out a "yeah". you think he's fallen asleep after, but you hear small sniffling, and you can't help but tear up too. your grip on his chest tightens, a sign that you hear him and understand. he flips his body around, and suddenly, rather aggressively, pulls you against him, his face in the crook of your neck. his small tears melt into sobs, and yours soon follow suit.

"it's okay, it's okay," you coo, combing your fingers through his hair. he sounds so hurt, so painfully heartbroken. but, so do you.

"is there something wrong with me?" richie cries, the droplets creating a pool in the skin of your neck, "with us?"

"i don't know," you reply, your shoulders shaking, "oh, god, i don't know."

how badly you wish you did; if not to ease your own pain, but most especially his. richie tozier did not deserve to be crying in your arms in the dark, because he fell in love with his best friend. he deserved a much better love story than that.

—

over cereal the next morning, you and richie don't talk much. you're both reeling from the many emotions that were expressed last night, and you're afraid if one of you speaks, it will spoil everything.

your stepfather and your mother are speaking in the other room, and you hear the pattering of footsteps — loud ones, at that, a sure one it's your stepfather — as he walks into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee. he looks as dead as the two of you.

"hey, kiddo, i need you to take the trash out when you're done," he says, glancing at you. it takes him a moment to register that richie is sitting across from you. he gets an eyeful of him, and shrugs nonchalantly, "hey, rich."

"yo," richie replies, stuffing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. the two stare at each other briefly, before your stepfather becomes bored and pads off into the other room to inform your mother of richie's presence, as she wasn't aware. you hear her nearly shriek, worried that the house isn't clean enough for guests.

"it's fine, mom, it's just richie," you raise your voice so she can hear you, "he literally doesn't care. like, at all."

she says something back, but you don't catch it, as you stand from the table and put your bowl in the sink. richie follows suit.

"so, um... i'll call bill, you handle the, you know, and then i can head over to stan's to let him know the plan. you got everyone else?" you quip, and richie smirks at you.

"you need to take the trash out, kiddo. but, yeah, i got everyone else."

"okaay," you reply, groaning.

richie leaves a few minutes after, through your window, for dramatic effect. you tell your parents he left through the second living room, a sliding door to the backyard in it. they accept it.

calling bill is easy; he always answers, (as he is always home and his parents don't care much for the phone), and rather quickly, too. it's easy to convince him, as well, as he's kind of excitable. he agrees to free eddie.

you call stanley, next. his mother picks up, and you curse to yourself. she's a hard nut to crack.

"hi, mrs. uris!" you tell her it's you, and you swear her tone becomes a bit sharper, but she stays polite. as is the way of jews.

"hello there, sweetheart."

"is stanley home?"

"yes, he is," she replies, you smile. he's always home, too, if he's not birdwatching.

"... could i speak to him?"

"oh! yes," she says, and she barks his name quietly, a sign that he was probably walking past her when you asked.

you tap your foot as there is brief movement on the other end, and stanley breathes into the phone just a millisecond before he speaks.

"hello," he says softly.

"hi, stanny! you free today? great!" you chirp cheerily, smiling against the telephone.

"o-oh, uh, yeah—"

"i thought we already established that."

"oh. um, yeah, i guess.. we have," he sounds dejected.

"kay. i'm coming over."

"what? wait, okay—"

you hang up, and hop slightly as you turn yourself around to grab your things. once you've gotten them, you head out to the place stanley calls home, a small house right outside of the synagogue.

you knock on the screen door at the back of the house and bounce on your heels as you await stanley. the locks on the door rattle briefly, and he's there, pushing open the door to let you in. you thank him and slip off your shoes in the entrance.

"so, you wanna hear about what we're doing tonight?" you say happily, poking his shoulder with a giant grin on your lips.

he swallows. "okay..."

you capture a handful of his collar, and pull him closer to you; he turns beet red. "we're gonna light off fireworks! but i gotta tell your mom we're staying at bill's."

"what? are you guys insane? that's dangerous!" stanley whisper shouts. he looks at you in complete and utter bewilderment.

"i know!" you cheer, "it'll be a blast!"

"no, i'm not doing that!"

"pleaaaase?" you beg, giving him puppy eyes, "it won't be fun without you."

he rolls his own. "no! that's ridiculous!" stanley crosses his arms, glances at your sweet face, and huffs dramatically. "ugh! fine! only because i don't want any of you doing something stupid. mostly you, because you're accident-prone."

"you know me too well, uris," you whisper sappily, and give him a strong hug. he refrains from doing it back for a second but sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

"stanley!" mrs. uris calls out sharply, and she shakes her head stiffly at him. you immediately take a few cautious steps away from him. "what on earth are you doing?"

"i, uh, was just hugging her because..." he trails off slowly.

"my grandma died," you spit out.

"oh! goodness, when?" mrs. uris asks, putting down her basket of laundry.

"um—" you think of a random time, and say, "last night."

unfortunately, stanley says "this morning" simultaneously.

you glance at each other.

"last night," stanley says, "i forgot, and thought it was this morning."

"oh," mrs. uris mutters, "goodness, child, you almost had me thinking you just hug that girl for the sake of it."

"yeah, nope, i would never," he agrees, "she has like, um, ...cooties."

when the high-strung woman finally skitters away, you and stan release a breath.

you're the first to speak. "cooties, stanley? really? that was your genius idea?"

he throws his hands up in defense. "i'm sorry! it was the only thing i could think of. i couldn't say AIDS!"

"i think AIDS would have been more redeemable."

"hardly!" he exasperates, "'cause then she'd think you're a homosexual man with a sex addiction under that skirt and scrunchie!"

you break out into a fit of laughs and shove stanley's shoulder. he shoves you back, and then you're both laughing.

"what? so how am i supposed to convince her to let you come with me to bill's when she thinks my grandma just died and i have cooties?" you inquire as you both step into the main section of the house and prepare to enter the living room.

"with slow coaxing and distance."

—

somehow, all of the losers are able to come— with slow coaxing and distance.

a symphony of crickets echoes down the dirt path, matched with the small pattering of eight pairs of feet. the bugs' song drowns out eddie and richie's bickering at the front of the group, but soon, stanley's soft voice joins in. the sun has already dipped low past the horizon, coating the sky in a hazy blue-grey, but the large trees block out the color significantly. the greenery tickles at your ankles, sly weeds brushing up against you.

a few feet in front of you, stan's pearly whites sneakers kick up rocks, a thin powdery layer of dust residue sliding around the heels, and coating the sides. his laces are neatly tied, and he has taken extra care to tuck the ends away to avoid them from collecting dirt; a signature, and neurotic, move on his part. his socks are a snowy white, and nearly match the pale tone of his calf. almost as if he might turn suddenly and catch your prying eyes, you scrape them to the heavens, admiring the stars that begin to trickle into the blanket above you. you are startled as eddie shrieks, and you manage to catch a glimpse of richie waving a handful of mud from the mucky dissolve at the end of the path, which must have been created during the rainfall yesterday.

"that's literally so disgusting! no! richie, if you fling that at me, i swear to fuck—!" his voice heightens to a womanly pitch, as he withers back from richie's sopping palm. in turn, he snickers devilishly as he circles around eddie like a vulture, with stanley's disapproving expression prominent on his boyish face.

"do you realize how sick i can get from that, huh? flesh-eating bacteria can get into my fucking cornea if a rock cuts my eye!" eddie nearly wails, throwing his hands up to protect his face. richie makes inhumane sounds following eddie's spring for the opening up ahead.

bill shakes his head contently, mirrored nearly identically by beverly and mike. you glance around at the meadow, and your heart skips a beat when you catch sight of a small glow up ahead, hovering just above a patch of flowers.

you squeal and push past the others to get a closet look at the fireflies now littering the meadow. you like to catch them, but not with malice— you capture them, and let them crawl on your hands until they decide to fly again. you giggle, spinning around, arms wide open, admiring the plethora of them.

they're everywhere, and you're in your own personal utopia. richie appears next to you, and he allows a firefly to land on his finger. "hey, watch this."

you eagerly grin as he moves his other hand over the bug, and then— he crushes it, wiping the glow across his skin. you gape at him, and then scowl. "richie, you're such a dick! it was innocent!"

"yeah, but my skin glows!" he replies, showing his hand to the others. none of them are amused, as they peer at your now heartbroken expression.

"that was harsh, rich," bill says, shaking his head in disappointment.

"i thought it was cool," richie mumbles, adjusting his glasses.

you roll your eyes at his response and continue to gaze off into the dark at the glowing bugs. you manage to capture one and cup your hands as you march over to stanley.

"hey, hey, check this out," you tell him, and he cranes his neck to watch as you open your hands, and show him the lightning bug. he slowly reaches out, and it crawls onto his forefinger. "isn't he so cute?!"

"yeah, definitely," stan agrees. the glow from the bug as he raises it up to face reflects off his nose, illuminating some stray freckles on the bridge. his eyes are lit up to match, and they never leave the insect, even when it ultimately makes its flight elsewhere.

"hey, lovebirds! come help me collect some sticks! or should i wait 'til y'all are done gushing over a bug?" richie barks, raising his arms, which are full of twigs, for what you assume is a fire.

"we're not—" stanley begins, but richie is already turned away and focused on something else.

you toss stan a bashful grin. "c'mon, birdboy. 'm sure mike brought marshmallows 'n stuff for s'mores."

"wait—" stanley says suddenly, voice risen uncharacteristically as he grips your arm. when he's positive he has your full attention, he drops contact with you, and stares at the grass below. "u-um, i got you something. i-it's not like anything big, you know, just like.. i saw it, and thought of you, or, er, us."

you blink at him. "you didn't have to—"

"—no! uh, i mean, no. i wanted to," stanley replies, fishing into the pocket of his khaki capris. there, he turns over two bracelets— they're woven, some sections tan and others colorful. there are two short brown strings at the latch on both of them.

"oh, my god, stan!" you say quietly, sticking your wrist out happily. you're grinning, and you can't explain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach or the heat rising to your cheeks. "they're so cute!"

"heh, thanks," he says, stepping forward to slip the bracelet over your wrist. it feels oddly intimate. "i, uh, it's not much, but.."

"no, no, i love it," you chirp, keeping a hold of his hand while you admire the charm. your grin reaches your eyes as they rise to meet his. the feelings expressed by simply the contact of your gazes sends rushes of excitement into your bloodstream. "i'll never take it off. not once."

then stanley suddenly stares into the sky, his lower lip tucked under his teeth. his brows are now curved in concentration. "d-don't look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like this is the best present you've ever gotten. l-like this is the happiest you've ever been."

"it is," you say softly, "this bracelet means the world to me. i've never felt so cared about, not ever."

you take the second bracelet from his hand that remains stretched out, like he's offering the jewelry. you slip it onto his wrist, and use it to pull him into a warm embrace, your arms wrapped around his neck. your right hand rests on the flesh of it, a few curls brushing against your skin.

"thank you, stanley."

your entire being buzzes incessantly as he accepts your gratitude, and you pull away. the air hitting your chest leaves you chilly, the empty kind; disconnecting with him now feels like abandoning the other half of your body, and leaving it frozen in place. you feel as though without him you will always be cold. the empty kind.

richie makes short work of the fire, relaying a grand story about his survival in the woods at six years old, and his incomparable courage that winter. the flames are low and small, but no one dares tell him to stoke them or toss in some leaves for an extra shove, as he seems so content with the low burn as it is. you all subtly cuddle up next to each other, but bill is the most obvious, physically— he scowls and wraps his arms around himself while eddie is vocally unhappy.

beverly leans into ben, subconsciously, and the sweet boy glows brighter than the fire, his skin illuminating a deep red, like an apple. beverly's scarlet hair, in turn, rivals the fire as it roars. her hair, and the way it is ruffled and sharp with each sliced strand, resembles the flames as they lick up towards the sky. the reflection of the campfire makes it burn ever the more vibrant, and it melts onto the skin of her freckled shoulders and nose.

you're cut from your stupor when richie nudges you, and he whispers, "you're staring", as though you weren't already aware. the others don't catch on, fortunately, as they all listen intently to the process of shelving meat, as expressed by mike. you find it riveting, really — as riveting as the tale of processed and packaged animal flesh can be. a silence ensues once richie makes a horrible joke about vegans, and then he clears his throat awkwardly.

"so, fireworks? who dares me to blow one up eddie's ass? maybe it'll get the stick outa there," he chirps, and eddie shrieks and chucks a stick at him.

richie smirks at him and tells him to follow him so they can fetch the fireworks and eddie reluctantly agrees. they scatter off, and you watch contently as they bump shoulders. your brows draw in, a bit depressed by the two of them— how badly you wished they knew. how badly you needed them to know they were everything you dreamed to be.

while you all wait for eddie and richie, ben and beverly disappear behind the trees to go explore this stream ben had found. he told her he felt very poetic being near it, which he had hoped would signal something to her, but she hadn't noticed. in the meantime, you and stanley stay by the fire and discuss his journal, as he gushes about a ruby-throated hummingbird, and shows you a light sketch of one — he shaded the throat, and it makes you smile. he's certainly improved on his work, and you feel a rush of pride break through the dam of your chest.

"stanley, you've really been practicing," you tell him, running your index finger over the graphite lining the yellow paper, "i can tell it's a bird this time! and it's not having a heart attack!"

he nods in approval, and he takes a second to realize you were referring to the first time you met when you told him his art looked like it was having a health scare. his dull eyes blink at you momentarily, like he's trying to figure you out or understand you— and it dawns on you that he's not thinking about the drawing anymore— but rather, he's trying to understand you as a whole— as though you are some sort of puzzle he can't quite put his finger on.

stan's attention retreats back to the journal, flipping occasionally to the next page and reading the notes he's taken on each bird. when your eyes drag down his face, you feel a twinge in your stomach— there's simply something about stanley uris that you can't quite put your finger on, either, and you rather like that about him; it gives you space to unravel and discover each day. you always feel like you're learning something new and jarring about him, and you like to think that gives him depth.

however, his face holds something harsh and cold— something that remains constant, despite the circumstances of his mystery— and it's the sadness. it's the sadness and the fatigue, written like scars across every inch of flesh, a consistent tattoo of sorrow. he's imprinted with it, as though it's simply the base coat on the canvas of his life— and it hurts you, seeing him sad. and it's worse knowing that you don't think you've seen stanley uris any other way.

and you consider, briefly, just for a striking moment— that maybe he's only sad when he's looking at you.

stan recounts a conversation he had with a girl in your shared english class, persephone— known universally as percy — an introverted blonde girl, who has a curious knack for all things odd and quirky. she likes to wear lacy, flowy dresses, and unusual jewelry. she has a rather soft voice, like listening to a cloud speak— and she too enjoys birds. he says it's been a while since he's had a decent talk with someone about the animals, and that he's happy she appears genuinely interested and engaged in the topic. you aren't surprised, by this, though; you half expect percy to be some sort of angelic tree nymph.

you open your mouth to reply to his story, a bitter tang of jealousy on your tongue you don't recognize, but richie tozier beats you to it. almost to your relief.

"what's up, whores?! you ready to blow this place up?" he calls out, raising some fireworks, with exhausted eddie dragging behind him. he looks like he wants to swallow gunpowder and then a match.

you find yourself beside him, hands on his shoulders. he's too tired to even remove them. "eds, what the hell happened to you?"

his eyes are hazy. "richie thought it would be smart to go through the shit path, and now i've probably got seven diseases, at least."

richie smirks. "didn't want to go the usual way. woulda got caught by the po-po."

"you're a handful, tozier," you say.

"you love it," he replies, blowing you a kiss.

"you got me."

the rest of the night is soft chaos; richie lights off the fireworks, and they burst in bright and vibrant colors, lighting up the night. the air is crisp and free, and the grass between your toes is heavenly. you become drunk on your youth, an alcoholic in your own right. you wonder, briefly, if this is the peak— if this is the highest point of your life, if this is what you're meant for. if you're the peter pan of your successful friends, if they will all grow to be everlasting lovers and soulmates.

if this is where your journey with them ends.

and, by god, watching the way beverly looks when she's in her element, dancing barefoot with the rest of you— the way they all gaze at her like she's some sort of angel, some sort of saving grace. the way you gaze at her. how your chest aches. how it burns, to be amongst her beauty, to be jealous and insecure and in love all at once. your feet buzz with the shake of the earth, the fire in the sky. your skin sears, like ashes racing to compete. at this moment, you swear you feel your entire being burning alive.

and it is exhilarating.

and as you watch them, hooting and screaming and letting their voices be heard, you feel infinite. like the world is putty in your hands, like they are the most exhilarating people you'll ever know and you'll spend the rest of your life just settling. and your heart calms, because suddenly everything is simple; you want to hang out with these people until the end of time.

and stanley, the way his curls glow under the fireworks— the way his skin shimmers in possibility. the sadness so present in his face has faded, like he's suddenly hazy and thoughtless. his movements, they're slow and unsure, like he's seconds away from making a fool of himself. but he's beautiful— like some sort of saint— stanley is the human form of apollo, he's the sun himself. apollo— you crave that for him. and his soil eyes stray from the others and meet your excitable ones; his expression is not blank, but rather glowing. you can't define a single emotion on it, but rather a feeling. one that doesn't have a word. one that just is.

and he's looking at you like you're a goddess— you, with a crown of flowers sewn into your chaotic head of hair, you, with your flowy skirt and bare feet— and you know no one has ever looked at you like that. it sparks something in you, something luminescent and empowering. and god, he glows. that boy glows.

and it hits you both at the exact same time, like a comet striking the earth— an epiphany in the form of a human.

i want to hang out with this person until the end of time.

and maybe, you consider, just for a moment, almost a guilty thought—

he wants to hang out with you, too.

is that so bad to wish for?

a person to spend the rest of your youth with?

a person to spend the rest of your life with?

a person to call your own?

and by god, you want it to be him.

let your cries shake the earth, if it isn't.

[🌿] taglist:

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: Driving Home For Christmas

This is a one shot nonsense song-fic/ drabble to be read alongside my Stark Spangled Banner Series  and is inspired by a little drabble from @valkyriesryde​ which she posted Saturday Night.

Timeline wise this takes place the Christmas after Katie Stark and Steve’s wedding...but it can also be standalone

Song is Chris Rea- Driving Home For Christmas

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Warnings: Bad language, Hanger, and SMUT towards the end (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s.

 Driving home for Christmas Oh, I can't wait to see those faces I'm driving home for Christmas, yea Well I'm moving down that line And it's been so long But I will be there I sing this song To pass the time away Driving in my car Driving home for Christmas

"This is your fault" Katie sighed, looking out of the window with a frown.

"What?" Steve's head snapped to the side to look at his wife, who was lounging in the passenger seat with her feet on the dash "this is Tony's car so how on Earth am I responsible for it breaking down?"

"I wanted to fly but oh no the Star Spangled Man with a Plan had a better idea..." she said sarcastically "let's drive and on the way home I'm gonna detour off the damned Parkway into the middle of butt- fuck nowhere so pray, do tell what is your plan to get us out of this?"

Steve snorted a laugh, he could help it. For a split second he was sent right back to the 40s and a conversation he had with Colonel Philips before he headed off to bust Buck and the men who would become the Howlies from a Hydra Camp.

“Oh if it isn’t the Star Spangled Man with a Plan, what is your plan today…”

"Oh I'm sorry, am I amusing you?" Katie looked at him, the smile on his face evident.

“In a word, yes.” he looked at her.

"Jerk" she glowered "FRIDAY, update please?!"

"Mr Stark is still running a diagnostic..." The AI replied and Katie groaned.

Her brother's technology was great, except in circumstances like this. Plenty of people had stopped to help them on their way but there was nothing they could do as the car ran off a combination of a smaller arc reactor and a ludicrously complicated computer system. When Steve had suggested they drive, Katie had suggested they take her Camero. But he preferred the bigger cars, the SUVs, said they were more comfortable to drive. So they had taken Tony's Q7. Which had been fine, they’d made it to DC fine, been to see Peggy and then meet with the Real Estator who had just sold their old Penthouse to sign a few documents and hand over the last set of keys. But now, on the way back, they were stuck as something had gone wrong. A bug in the system. FRIDAY had said.

Well fuck bugs and fuck systems. "How far are we from that diner you were aiming for?" She sighed. "I'm starving"

Ahhh. So she was doubly pissed because she was hungry. Steve knew he was on dangerous territory if the hanger was hitting her system. He hit something on his phone which lit up the console in the middle of the car and studied the map.

“Mile and a half. 30 minutes or so walk.” “Or a 5 minute run for you.” “You want me to go?” he asked.

Katie knew he hated the cold. The fact he was offering made her anger at him dissipate somewhat. She looked out of the window. It was dark but clear. They could get wrapped up

“Nah let's just walk.” she said.

The two of them stepped out of the car into the brisk December air and hurriedly pulled on coats, scarves and hats. Steve took Katie’s hand and positioned himself between Katie and the road, as always. As they walked she fired a message to Tony telling them they were seeking shelter at the diner, pinging him the locations.

It's gonna take some time But I'll get there Top to toe in tail-lights Oh, I got red lights on the run But soon there'll be a freeway Get my feet on holy ground

“You know this isn’t exactly how I envisaged our trip going.” Steve said as they walked and Katie gave a huff, her breath forming a cloud in front of her. 

“It wouldn’t if we had taken the jet!”

“You know…” Steve sighed, his temper rising a little “I suggested driving because we needed to clear the apartment.” “No, we didn’t, that’s what Happy is doing!” she said, exasperatedly “I told you that when we got there!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to do it!” he was talking a little louder now “Instead of leaving it to someone else.” “Why?” she said, frustration lacing her tone “What was the point of us doing that? Happy is still gonna have to go and get the stuff we couldn’t bring!”

“The point is I loved that apartment.” he sighed. “And I wanted to clear our stuff ok? Take a last look round…”

Katie stopped walking and he did the same, turning to face her.

“You getting a bit sentimental?” she looked at him, a smile playing on her mouth. His blue eyes looked back at her, his handsome face illuminated by the moonlight and he sighed with a shrug.

“Look, when I came out of the ice, New York didn’t feel like home, not really, not anymore.” he took a deep breath “But DC did because you were there. And I know we didn’t live there together for long before we moved back to the tower but it has a lot of happy memories for me, from before we even started dating.”

Katie looked at him, her head cocked to one side as she continued to smile. He was a hopeless, romantic idiot at times and she loved him for it.

“You know movie nights, cooking together…” he continued as they started to walk again. “By together you mean I cooked, you ate.” she said.

“It was the first place we kissed, first place we made out.” he continued his trip down memory lane as their feet trod through the light dusting of snow. “First place you literally ripped my pants off like a horny school kid.” she quipped. “Yeah.” Steve grinned at the memory of the first time they had ever had sex “That was…”

“Good.” Katie smirked up at him. “Very good.”

“So, sorry for being a sentimental idiot.” he shrugged

Katie stopped, gently tugging on his hand before sliding her arms up round his neck. She pulled him down so her lips met his “I adore you, Steven Grant Rogers.” she whispered into his mouth as he returned her gesture, hand on the base of her back pulling her closer. “I’m sorry for snapping.” she sighed gently, when they pulled apart “But I really am hungry.”

He chuckled and pulled her to his side, his large arm wrapped round her shoulder, hers round his toned waist and they continued on their way.

So I sing for you Though you can't hear me When I get through And feel you near me I am driving home for Christmas Driving home for Christmas With a thousand memories

They eventually reached the Diner, but as Steve went to open the door he stopped dead and pushed Katie to the side, forcing her down below the window.

“Steve, what the…” “Robbery.” he said. Katie stood a little, peering in the window. There were three men inside, one ransacking through the till, one holding a gun to the Cashier’s head, the other had his gun trained on a group of civilians in the corner.

Katie sighed, her hand undoing her coat. “I make 10 hostages…” She pulled out the small pistol which had been tucked into her waistband and Steve looked at her. She seemed to permanently carry an arm now, especially after the trouble with HYDRA.

“Don’t suppose you have my shield tucked in there?” he quipped and she grinned.

“Sorry Cap.” “Worth an ask.” he said, looking round on the floor. Spotting a fairly big rock a few feet away he grabbed it before taking a quick glance through the window. “Ok, I’ll go in first, take out the one by the hostages. You get the other one with the gun.” She nodded.

Together they kept low, heading back to the door.  Steve stood at one side, Katie at the other and with a nod he kicked the door with his foot. It swung inwards and in a flash Steve was inside, the rock in his hand flew towards his target, connecting straight with his head, taking him down. At the same time Katie had leaned round him, discharging her gun into the knee cap of the man by the counter. With a yell he dropped to the floor, pistol falling from his grip. The other man vaulted the counter but ran straight into Steve who gripped him in a choke hold, rendering him unconscious. As he dropped to the floor the screams that had been ringing around the diner died down.

“Wouldn’t have gotten this much excitement on the jet.” Steve grinned at his wife, as she rolled her eyes, stooping to collect the weapons from the 2 men, before Steve instructed someone to call the police.

I take look at the driver next to me He's just the same Just the same

It took the cops about 20 minutes to arrive, by which time Katie and Steve, with help from the staff had managed to restrain the perps in the kitchen. Steve explained what had happened to the Officers and as they hauled the men out and once they were gone Katie turned to the waitress.

“Any change of a burger?” she asked, and Steve’s head whipped round to look at her.

“Seriously?” he shook his head.

“Listen, we’ve broken down, it’s the day before Christmas Eve, we just kicked some low-grade, good for nothing shit head asses and I’m really, really hungry so I ain't leaving here without a damned burger and a shake.” her voice grew loud and with the last word she stomped her foot.

She stomped her foot. Like a 4 year old kid.

“You are such a brat.” He shook his head with a sigh and looked at the Waitress ready to apologise, but she was smiling

“Anything you want guys, it’s on the house.”

Katie flipped Steve off as she settled in one of the booths, an annoyingly smug expression on her pretty face that made her look just like Tony. 

“You know...” Steve intoned, settling in opposite her, his voice growing stern as he leaned across the table “I don’t appreciate your little temper tantrums in public.” “Yeah?” she looked at him, her voice informing him she gave absolutely zero shits as to what he thought “What you gonna do about it?” “Oh you’ll see,Darlin’” his voice was full of his Captain authority as he leaned back and smirked, “you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” Her eyes widened, and Steve’s own flashed with mischief as he was now the one smirking with smugness as he knew full well he’d gotten her in the only way she responded to when she was in full on brat mode, and she squirmed a little in her seat, her teeth biting her lip. 

Gotcha.

Top to toe in tail-lights Oh, I got red lights on the run I'm driving home for Christmas, yea Get my feet on holy ground So I sing for you Though you can't hear me When I get through And feel you near me Driving in my car

It was hot and sweaty in the SUV, the cold of the outside forgotten as Steve rutted into his wife over and over again on the back seat. It wasn’t comfortable, trying to contort his 6ft 2 frame across the rear of the car but he had managed it and right at that moment, comfort was the last thing on his mind as her hands tangled into his hair, nails scraping his scalp as she whined and keened underneath him.

His teeth nipped at her neck, harder than normal, causing her to groan and he hissed into her ear, his voice low. “You’re such a fucking brat…” his breath was hot on her neck, his thrusts hard as she banged her head against the door, neither of them paying it any attention.

“Fuck you.” she replied as he thrust harder still, his hands sliding underneath her sweater, gripping her hips harder as his lips met hers in a hard, deep kiss.  He moved his hands down to her thigh and hooked her leg over his hip to find a deeper seat within her and boy did he find it. Beneath him, Katie let out a soft cry which he swallowed, his lips still on hers.

“Oh I’m gonna...” he ground out, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock as deep as he could “Gonna fuck some manners into you, Sweetheart...”

At his words she let out a filthy noise, and Steve thrust harder over and over again, and it wasn’t long before he felt her clench around him which was a tell-tale sign she was nearing her release. He quickened his pace even more and her moans became louder, her face turned and pressed into his neck.

“Fuck…” the curse tumbled from her lips as her body bucked “Stevie….”

White lights exploded in front of her eyes as she cried out, her back arching as she clawed at his skin, her hands under his Henley, the bite of pain from her nails overwhelmed him and he felt his own stomach tighten. His thrusts became desperate and then he was done for. His hips stuttered as he let out a load moan before he collapsed forward, trapping her between him and the rear car seats. The pair of them lay still, catching their breath. Katie smiled to herself as she moved her hand to wind into his hair, as his head lay nestled on her shoulder, face pressed into her neck before he moved his head to give her a lazy kiss, noses sliding against one another.

Their moment of bliss was disturbed by FRIDAY.

“Mr Stark has located the issue…” the voice made them both jump slightly, “it appears there was a glitch in the hardware.” “Can say that again.” Katie mumbled, and Steve let out a chuckle, both of them missing the rest of FRIDAY’s explanation.

“...and he has fixed it remotely.”

They caught that bit though. The car fired up and Steve looked over to the dashboard which was now alive again.

“Ready to go?” he asked, propping himself up allowing Katie to move and pull her jeans back on as Steve tucked himself back into his.

“Hmm. Had a fight, been fed, been fucked.” she said, ticking each of them off on her fingers. “Yeah, I’m good.” They both climbed out of the back and settled into the front. As Steve pulled off the side of the road he laced their fingers together and raised the back of her left hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back in a simple sign of affection.

Katie looked out of the window, this time with a smile.

Driving home for Christmas Driving home for Christmas With a thousand memories

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