#in which my brother was making me do his chores/homework in exchange for him not outing me

[pussymasterdooku]

if my mom could find a cure for her chronic case of outing people to people they are Specifically Not Out To, For A Reason, that would be, uh, great!

[ethereal-writes]

Toy Jail (Ft. Lucifer and GN! MC)

Warnings: Romantic relationship

Length: 0.8k words

Genre: Fluff, slight hurt/comfort

A/N: Whoah! First fic in how long? What’s even more wild, I wrote this and am posting it on the same day! And even wilder? It’s Lucifer centric! I’m super excited to start posting again.

As always, if I’ve missed any warnings, please feel free to let me know! Enjoy!

-Ethereal (✿◡‿◡)

Story below, please don't claim as your own!

Lucifer sighed, hanging up his coat. He had finally made it back to the House of Lamentation after a long day of the usual nonsense.

The day had started off relatively calm. He’d spent the first part of his morning in your room, working on his paperwork. His own desk was entirely covered in papers he had yet to even start, so working there would have been virtually impossible. Besides, he didn’t mind spending time with you anyway.

Then it had all gone downhill. He’d been forced to intervene in his brother’s shenanigans once again when he started hearing explosions from the kitchen— they had been trying to follow a recipe exploding cheesecake. Seriously? Why had they thought that was a good idea in the first place?

After he’d dealt with that, Lord Diavolo contacted him, letting know he had some more work for him to pick up. So, off Lucifer had gone to pick it up. At least these papers wouldn’t need to be high on his priority list.

He arrived back home just in time to diffuse a massive brawl between Levi and Mammon. Something about Mammon selling off some of Levi’s figurines or posters or some…sort of anime paraphernalia that had nearly resulted in Levi summoning Lotan.

 By the time that had all been dealt with, he had just enough time to wrangle his brothers into looking vaguely presentable before shoving them all out the door in order to make it to the student council meeting.

Now he was home, exhausted, and he still hadn’t finished the damn papers he’d left on your desk. He made it to your door, knocking three times and waiting until he heard you call for him to come in.

You were sitting on your bed, doing the last few bits of homework you’d been assigned before the weekend. You offered him a smile. “Hey, how was your day?”

He hesitated at your slightly off tone but decided he didn’t have the energy to figure it out right now. “Very long, my love. And unfortunately, still not over.” He turned to the desk to return to his papers…but they weren’t there anymore. He turned to you with a quizzical look. “Have you seen the papers I left here?”

“Your papers?” A slightly…smug look came over your face. “Yes, I have.” You gestured to a plastic tub in the corner of the room, which, sure enough, contained the stack of documents.

“Ah, thanks.” He went to go retrieve them but paused when you held up your hand.

“Ah, ah,” you said, standing up. You gestured to the box. “Your papers are in toy jail.”

“Toy jail?” He repeated. He glanced at the tub, seeing the label on it. “…what does that mean?”

“It’s a common punishment in the human world. When a child leaves their toys out where they aren’t supposed to, their toys get put into a box, or “toy jail”. To earn them back, usually they have to do some sort of chore. I got so sick of everyone leaving their stuff here I decided to implement something similar in my room.”

Lucifer huffed. He really didn’t have the time nor energy to deal with this today…though he couldn’t help but find it a little endearing. “So…you’re punishing me like a child?”

You nodded.

He sighed in mostly false annoyance. “You’re saying that I…the Avatar of Pride, the eldest, one of the most powerful demons in hell…may not retrieve my paperwork from a plastic tub in your room…because you said so…because this is how children are punished in the human world.”

You finally looked up from your homework to give him a smirk. “Uh-huh.”

He groaned, though it was really difficult to pretend to be annoyed when you were looking at him like that.

“And…what is it you’re asking me to do in exchange for their…” bail”?” He asked. He took a seat beside you on the bed, leaning back slightly to look down at you.

“I want to watch a movie with you and order takeout.”

“I…huh?” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. “Out of everything you could ask…that is what you want?”

You nodded. A slight frown tugged at your lips. “Yeah. You’ve been so busy lately, you’re overworking again. And…I feel like I haven’t spent time with you in a while. I miss you.”

Oh.

Well, that softened him up immediately, and the guilt pulled at his heart. “…it…has been a while, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, I’m just…terribly busy…”

You nodded. “No, no, I know. But…I finished the paperwork you left here while you were gone. It was pretty easy, just…really…really tedious. So…can you maybe spend the rest of the night with me?” You asked hopefully.

Well…he definitely couldn’t say no to that. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you to lean against him. “…of course I can, dearest.”

[kissmeaboutit]

For the Buddie prompts my little angsty heart immediatelyyyy perked up at “Leave me alone” and “I needed you” 🥺

Hi hi!! Thanks so much for the prompt! I'd love to do more so if anyone has ideas totally send them my way!(See my last post for some examples and ideas)

And thank you to my friend Risa for reading this over for me!!

It happened on a Tuesday. Buck entered the station fifteen minutes late, something rare for him. The team was seated upstairs, except Eddie who had stood over the balcony the second he heard the sounds of Buck's footsteps down below. His face looked pensive, like he was trying to get a read on Buck from above.

Buck made it up the last step after changing, his shoulders hunched. He looked like he barely slept. The team followed him with their eyes as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

"Hey, Buck? You aren't usually so late, is everything okay?" Bobby asked gently. Usually he was one to scold his team for tardiness, but he could sense this was different. Buck also wasn't one to be late. Buck was quiet as he put the coffee pot back and started adding to his mug. 

He hummed. "Guess so."

The team exchanged glances, each having some sort of silent conversation. Buck drank half of his coffee before heading downstairs to start on his chores,looking for a distraction of any kind.

He proceeded to avoid talking to anyone about the whole thing, not wanting to get into it right now. Or ever for that matter. He worked efficiently on calls, and to a stranger Buck seemed perfectly fine.

Eddie knew better.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to confront Buck. Not now, he told himself, instead pushing on as he looked at his best friend longingly. He wished to smooth a thumb under his eyes and wipe away the dark smudges there. To kiss his birthmark gently until he felt better.

Their last call of the day went badly. The type of call that has everyone silent and still on the ride home. Car accident with a mom and her two kids. All DOA.The gruesome scene had left them all with a  sort of haunted look in their eyes as they hopped out of the truck, going to wash up and head home. 

Eddie was glad that he had a scheduled movie night with Buck and Chris, it would be good for them to spend time with each other. Eddie was heading to the locker room when Buck passed him on his way out. Eddie's brows furrowed at how quickly he was leaving. "Hey-" Eddie gently grabbed Buck's arm which made him flinch a bit. Eddie slowly let go. "Hey, you are still coming over for movie night, right?"

Buck rubbed at his neck, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry, I'll be there. See you later."Before Eddie could think of a reply, Buck was already walking away.. He stood there for a moment to watch his retreating form before finally going to change and head home.

Usually on their movie nights, Eddie got home and ordered food. Buck often wasn’t far behind with a six-pack of beer. Tonight, like any other night, Eddie stepped inside and found his son. He hugged Chris extra tight, kissing his curls gently. Finally, he sent him to finish homework while he ordered food. Twenty minutes passed, and there was no Buck in sight. Eddie frowned a bit as he checked his phone, no new messages. Traffic most likely. Even if Buck left before him. Definitely traffic.

Then the food arrived. Eddie was disappointed that the man at the door wasn't Buck. 

To: Buck 6:47pm

Hey man...you on your way?

Eddie chewed his nail as he took the food out and placed it on the table. He had ordered from Buck's favorite Italian place. "Chris? Wash your hands please," he called to his son, trying to ease the growing knot in his stomach.

From: Buck 7:18pm

sorry. can't make it

"Dad! Do you think Buck will want to watch Brother Bear?" Chris called from the living room where he was now picking out a movie. Eddie quickly felt his worry turn to anger.  Buck was standing them up.The frustration built as he recalled their day and Buck’s behavior. He should have known by the way that Buck avoided his eyes at the station that he was lying.

Eddie tamped down the swirl of emotions and took a deep breath, rounding the corner into the living room to face his son. "Chris, hey bud. Uh, Buck isn't going to make it tonight," Eddie said as he took a seat next to him. 

Chris' shoulders slumped at the words. He looked back at the screen where he was hovering over the play button, dropping the remote on the couch and getting up. 

"I'm going to work on my project," Chris said before excusing himself. Eddie completely forgot that Buck had offered to help Chris finish it up tonight. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sinking into the couch and staring at the TV. Eddie really needed this tonight. Just like Chris did. He knew Buck did too.

Which is why the next  morning after Eddie dropped Chris off at school, he stopped at Buck’s loft. He didn’t bother to knock as he used his key to unlock the door and let himself in. 

“Buck?” he called as he shut the door behind him. He started up the stairs, listening for any sounds. When he reached the top he was met with the sight of Buck curled in the middle of his bed, his hand smoothed over a tiny LAFD onesie. His eyes were open and red as his finger trailed over the lettering.

“What is going on, Buck?” Eddie stepped closer, brows furrowed. 

Buck didn’t even look up at him, just stopped his hand and let out a slow breath. “Leave me alone, Eddie,” he grunted out.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut me out. What the hell happened last night, huh? You just bail on me and Chris without saying anything? You knew at the station you weren't coming.” He shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh.

“C’mon Eddie, it’s one night. Can you just fuck off for one day?” Buck rolled over to the other side of the bed, back to Eddie now. 

Eddie tossed his hands in the air and got onto the bed, pushing Buck onto his back. He pinned his arms down. “Look at me when I'm talking to you. What the hell is your deal?!”

There was a moment of resistance before Buck gave up and stared up at him. “The kid isn’t mine. Okay? I-fuck. The timeline ended up being off, the baby is Connor’s. I should be happy for them! I should, but I-” His eyes glossed over. “This was my only shot. I know this baby wouldn’t have been mine, but I figured it was probably my only chance for-”

“Are you joking right now?” Eddie felt even more furious than when he had come here. “Are you serious? I-God, I needed you! I needed you last night. That call ruined me and then Chris…he was so devastated that you ditched him. You are such a dick, Buck. You already have a son, and you bailed on him to mope over a baby you were never going to have any connection with?” Eddie hissed out.

Buck stared up at him, his mouth parted as if he couldn’t move. “He’s not-”

“He is, Evan. He is your son. He loves you like you are his dad. If you can’t see that then I don’t know what to tell you. Your son needs you. So suck it up, stop mourning a child that wasn’t yours. Then, come home with me,” Eddie whispered.

Buck blinked back tears, swallowing hard. Their position was becoming more noticeable now that he was thinking thoughts again. “You’re right. I… I think I was using this baby to mourn the family that I wished I had.”

“Why are you saying ‘wished’, huh? We are right here, stupid.” Eddie let Buck’s wrists go and brought both hands to cup at his face. “We are right here, and we love you. I love you.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Buck’s lips, feeling the hitch in Buck’s breath and moving back barely an inch to gauge Buck’s response. After a moment of shock, Buck bridged the tiny gap to return it.  Buck’s hands lightly twisted in Eddie’s shirt.

“If you want a baby so badly, I'll give you as many as you want. If you stop being a dick,” Eddie teased against his mouth. Buck let out a wet laugh, laying his head back into the bed. He reached up to brush at a tear that rolled down Eddie’s face and kept his hand there.  Despite his joking tone, the emotion in his voice was thick. The happy light in Buck’s eyes turned into something more sober as he continued stroking his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “I am  sorry, Eddie. For last night, and for today. For doubting you guys. I love you, too.” Buck pulled Eddie back towards his lips. “You are my family. The only family I need,” he whispered as their lips connected.

They spent a few more minutes getting acquainted with each other's mouths before Buck  pulled away, still keeping their faces close and looking breathlessly wrecked. ”Hey, I just wanted to talk for a minute. As fantastic as this feels, I need to get some words out.” Buck’s knuckles gently trailed up and down Eddie’s arm. He watched the goosebumps that raised on the tanned skin. “I know I already apologized. It just doesn’t feel like enough. You guys mean the absolute world to me. I can’t even put it into words.”

“I get that.” Eddie smoothed his thumb under the dark puffy patch under Buck’s eye, just like he imagined doing  yesterday. “It feels like too much for words.”

Buck nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I know I need to learn to wake up and realize when I have something good in front of me. I need to stop thinking I don’t deserve you. I do. Because…” Buck looked up at him then, his wide eyes shining and serious, “God dammit I fucking deserve you.” Buck’s voice got louder, as if trying to convince himself.

Eddie smiled softly at him, shaking his head in amusement. “You do deserve me. I deserve you too. If therapy taught me anything it’s that I should go for the things I want. I deserve to be happy. You make me happy.”

The lump got bigger as Buck swallowed around it. He nodded a few times as the tears started up and he scoffed. “Fucking hell, don’t tell anyone about how much I’m crying today. You just make me so…” The words got lost on him as he stared up at Eddie. “How are you so beautiful?”

Eddie’s eyes widened a bit and his head ducked in embarrassment. “Uh, I dunno. Ask my parents? Actually maybe I should be asking you the same question,” he teased, leaning down to kiss his birthmark. “How are you so beautiful, Evan Buckley?”

“Shut up, You are so annoying.” Buck grinned, not looking even the slightest bit annoyed.

Eddie laughed loudly and finally dropped beside him, toeing off his shoes. “Okay, Buckley. We have T-minus 6 hours till we have to pick up our son. And you, my dear, need the longest nap of your life.” He pulled Buck into his chest, kissing his curls and not missing the way Buck beamed at the words as he snuggled into Eddie’s chest and flung an arm around his torso.

Buck’s eyes shut almost immediately after, though. He was truly exhausted, but still managed a few last words. “M’kay. We get Chris, and then go home?”

Eddie smiled into his hair. “Yeah, then we go home.”

[married-to-google-translater]

For Obey me how would a pletonic relationship would be with the cute sheep mc w/ Mammon, Lucifer and Beelzebub?

Like mc is that later back sibling yet can be strict when needed

Beelzebub

"Oh hi Mc I'm just eating lamb do you want to taste too?... Oooooooooh"

Beel tried to eat you at first.

He didn't know you were an exchange student yet.

( I would have done the same. Whenever I see a pink sheep running around I try to eat it. There's nothing unusual about a pink sheep. *sarcasm* )

Beel would be sorry later.

He would try to apologize by bringing you food.

First he would ask Satan what food the sheep like.

You are the only human sheep that Beel shares his food with.

Usually Beel would carry you from place to place.

Devildom can be a dangerous place.

There are many demons here who want to hurt you.

Beel avoids eating meat around you.

He feels that you are looking at him accusingly.

Especially if he eats lamb.

Beel would love to pet you.

He would also like to sleep with you when he has nightmares.

Your wool is really warm.

Mammon

"Look closely Mc, here is a picture of Lucifer's credit card. *shows picture* I want you to grab it and bring it to me. NO MC DON'T EAT THE PICTURE!"

His human sheep.

Mammon would try to train you to steal Lucifer's debit card.

Or, actually, Leviathan's bank card also works.

Mammon trusts that no one can be angry with you for long.

But you really are a stubborn sheep.

Also, when Lucifer hears about this he will take you away from Mammon.

At least Mammon is not as bad as Satan.

Mammon refuses to admit that he thinks you're cute.

Especially when you follow him around.

Or when you climb into his lap and demand to be petted.

Mammon is trying to keep you away from his money and chores.

You tend to eat paper.

Mammon would try to teach you away from this habit.

He doesn't want you to eat his money or his homework again.

He would definitely buy a harness for you because you are so energetic.

Or several harnesses because somehow you always manage to bite the strap.

You don't really appreciate Mammo's possessiveness "kindness"

Lucifer

"MAMMON!!! Didn't I say you can't teach Mc how to steal credit cards? SATAN!!!! Stop bringing Mc to my office just so they can mess up places and eat my important papers!!! If you can't be nice with Mc, I'll take them away from you."

You can see Lucifer's hair turn gray the second you enter the portal.

WTF.

You are a sheep...

Why did Diavolo want a sheep for the exchange program?

He tries to stop Diavolo from completely embarrassing himself.

It fails miserably when Diavolo tries to talk to you.

First, he must make clear to Diavolo the difference between a sheep and a human.

However, you can stay.

Every other day Lucifer tries to stop Mammon who is going to teach you how to steal credit cards.

And on those days when Mammon behaves Satan is a problem.

Satan has a compelling desire to teach you how to set Lucifer's office on fire.

Which he thought was harmless at first.

But then you learn how to open a gas canister.

You are a frighteningly intelligent sheep.

Because his brothers don't know how to behave, Lucifer takes you away from them.

He usually puts you on his lap while he does paperwork.

Your company is surprisingly nice.

[deedee-sims]

Snippet #2!

I said I’m going to post more snippets, but I never really posted any XD Here’s one I wrote on a whim *checks document* last July. It’s about how these two met back then when they were baby faced :P Enjoy! (no pictures, just text I mean I guess there is one picture lol look at them)

I manage to slip away from my father and my dear brother and swipe a flute of champagne I'm not allowed to drink from one of the waiters who circle around the room.

There's a guy standing at one of the tables, who looks just as happy to be here as I do. I saunter closer to him. His dark blue suit compliments his build and he has an impossibly sharp jawline.

"Hello there!" I greet him with a smile.

He looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "General Kenobi."

I stop myself from snorting, oh, that'll be fun. "It's Rhett, actually."

"Yeah, I know who you are."

I take a swig of my champagne. "I bet I have amazing reputation!"

"That too. I'm Max."

I wink at him. "Nice to meet you!"

His lips twitch in a half smile. "Just don't let my parents see that you're flirting with me."

Am I flirting? I didn't even notice. "Who are your parents?"

"The hosts."

Oh shit.

"I see you didn't do your homework," he remarks.

I shrug, pointing at the general direction of my family. "We have Callum for that."

"Well, I don't have anyone, so I memorized all our guests," he says.

"Sounds like a chore."

He watches me take another sip. "You shouldn't drink in front of my parents."

"But you drink too," I point at his glass.

"It's apple juice." He grimaces. "And my parents are coming."

Oh shit. Luckily, a waiter just walks by, so I discard my almost empty flute on their tray. Watcher knows I don't want Max to get into trouble because of me, despite that I know him for approximately five minutes.

"Maximilian!" Mr. Lachlan starts. "I see you're mingling with the guests!"

Max smiles politely. "Rhett just told me about his ambitions at Teleline. Did you know that his brother is already working part time at the company?"

Well, I certainly didn't tell him any of this, nor I have any ambitions at the family business thankyouverymuch, but he delivers it so smoothly, I almost end up believing him myself.

Mr. Lachlan just waves dismissively. "Always business. We're here to have fun!"

"And make meaningful connections," I pipe in, knowing it's the right answer.

Mr. Lachlan smiles at me. "That's right! And, what do you like doing in your free time, Rhett?"

Fucking. "I play the piano and play tennis."

"What a coincidence!" Mrs. Lachlan says. "Our Max plays tennis as well!"

That's when my father materializes out of nowhere besides me.

"What's this commotion, Christopher? I hope you're not trying to intimidate my son to get my business secrets!"

"No, James," Mr. Lachlan chuckles. "We just found out that our sons share a hobby!"

"It's tennis," I tell dad, before he has another idea.

Dad leans on the table. "Maybe we should organize a match, to see who's the better of them!"

I try very hard not to roll my eyes. I catch Max's gaze instead which radiates the same dismay.

"They are not race horses, James," Mr. Lachlan tells him. "It's a hobby. They should play for fun! Max would find a use of a tennis partner!"

We exchange a glance with Max again, and then he shrugs. "Fine by me."

"Yeah, alright," I surrender as well. Not like I have many choices here, but at least Max seems like a fun enough guy.

"Awesome!" Mr. Lachlan claps his hands, delighted. "I'll leave you to discuss the details. James, there's someone I want to introduce..."

We watch as our parents leave the scene, then I turn to Max.

"You're a smooth motherfucker," I tell him appreciatively.

He raises his glass at me as a toast. "Years of practice."

Damn, I really like this guy. I watch him downing the rest of his apple juice, making a face. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You said it's apple juice."

He shrugs then, with a smirk playing on his lips. "Never said it wasn't spiked."

[deliberatelyvague]

Worthless (lucifer x fem!reader)

Pairing(s): [lucifer x depressed! reader]

Trigger Warning(s): Attempts at Suicide, depression and all the feelings that surround that.

Author’s Note: I have a few requests that I have to get to, but I’ve been feeling pretty bad mentally the past few days, so I can’t really find it in me to do things that could be happy. I’ll get to them as soon as I can, I promise.

Looking for my Masterlist? Here it is (x)

————

You took a slow, deep breath in as you laid on your bed. You really couldn’t find it in yourself to do much of anything else. You felt really overwhelmed, like everything was just building up to being too much for you to handle.

You had homework that you could be doing, and you knew that every day you didn’t do it it was just growing to be bigger and bigger, which in turn made you feel overwhelmed, but you didn’t move from your spot.

You just laid there, looking at the stars plastered onto your ceiling. It hurt so much to breathe. No, it hurt to be alive. You just wanted to die.

It made you feel worse, because you knew there was no good reason that you should be feeling like this, but you figured everything would be much easier if you were dead. Whether or not you would just be sent back to the Devildom, or if you would actually make it into the Celestial Realm, you didn’t know, but you didn’t particularly care.

You could only imagine how the brothers would react if they were to find your dead body, you could only imagine that they might not care.

You were a pathetic human, only here because of the exchange program. They only cared about you so that Diavolo would look good. Lucifer only cared about you because of the exchange program and keeping up Diavolo’s image.

Thinking about the fact that Lucifer doesn’t actually care about you made your chest ache more. You grabbed your blanket and pulled it over you, curling up in a ball and facing the wall, closing your eyes.

You weren’t going to fall asleep, your chest aching would stop you from that, and one of the brothers coming into your room will eventually wake you up anyway.

How much would really happen if you died? Of course, your family and friends back home would be devastated, and you would miss them. But they knew about your depression and suicidal ideation, you had gone to a therapist and had medicine, but that ended when you came down to the Devildom.

Now it was a few months without the medicine or therapy sessions, and you felt the repercussions of it. But you didn’t bother to tell them, you didn’t want to bother Diavolo with issues like that, Lucifer had too much on his plate involving the brothers, much less having your mental health add to the issues.

The door to your room opened gently, someone flipping on the light switch. You didn’t move, you couldn’t be bothered to move.

“[Y/N], get up. You need to work on homework. Mammon’s in all your classes, I know how much you guys got.” You hear Lucifer scold you, which made the aching in your chest make itself known again and make a weird feeling in your jaw as you sit up.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired, I guess,” You tell him as cheerily as you can, swinging your legs off of the bed and making your way over to your desk.

“You need to finish your work then you can sleep. Diavolo’s reputation is on the line, that should be your first priority.” You bit your lip, and nodded. Of course he couldn’t see through your facade, you had spent years working on it, so obviously it would easily be able to come back when needed.

“Okay,” you answer him and pull out your book work. He seemed content with that answer and he kissed the top of your head before leaving. The place where his lips touched your head felt warm, but it was quickly replaced with a dull ache.

“I’m going to start dinner, please be more attentive when it comes to getting your work done. Also, these grades do transfer to your home, so they also matter to your future,” he says and you just nod.

The last part didn’t really matter to you. How could you care about your future if you didn’t even see one for yourself? The entire conversation you just had with Lucifer left a bad taste in your mouth.

It made you feel worthless, like you weren’t anything more than a nuisance to him. He claimed he loved you- all the brothers told you they cared for you, but you didn’t feel it.

You finished the homework moderately quickly, only half paying attention to what you were doing. The bell for dinner rang soon after that, and you got up and took off the RAD jacket you had yet to take off and put on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to take off the turquoise turtleneck that went under the uniform.

Dinner was as eventful as normal, all the boys seemed too caught up in their own problems to notice you being quieter than normal, not that you were complaining. You waited until everyone was finished before leaving the table, offering to wash the dishes.

“Less work for me,” was all Belphie said when you told him you would take over his chore, and he left the room.

You were cleaning up the dishes, scrubbing away at a pan when you felt two arms around your waist.

“Are you doing alright, baby?” You heard Lucifer ask.

“Of course, why?”

“I just noticed you being more quiet than normal. You can talk to me, you know that right, [Y/N]?”

“Of course, I’m just tired. There’s nothing else.”

“Nothing? So no demon had been bothering you? If so, you need to tell me so I can tell Diavolo. Nothing can go wrong with this program, not even that.”

Of course, he wasn’t just concerned about you. It could never be just about you, he didn’t care about you, he cared about Diavolo’s program. Nothing else. He only cared about Diavolo, which you should have warned yourself about the first time you even had an inkling about that being the case.

“No, nothing. The demons here have been fine. I just need some more sleep,” you told him, and he just nodded and took his arms off of you.

“Alright, well, be sure to get to bed soon,” you saw mental glint in the suds of the sink, a long blade peaking through. “Maybe you could spend some time with Belphegor to make you tired.”

You nodded.

“Maybe I should try that.”

Lucifer left with nothing else, and you reached for the knife, your palm gripping the blade, it cutting into your skin. You didn’t care, though.

How easily you could just plunge this knife into your chest, how quickly all the pain you felt would be over.

You positioned the tip of the blade between your breasts, digging it in slightly, feeling a trickle of blood run down your chest and stomach, before plunging it in all the way.

———

It was peaceful. You only saw white, that was all that was surrounding you. This wasn’t Heaven or Hell, or the Devildom. There was nothing.

“Hello?” You call out to the void. Nothing responded. You felt a twist in your gut, and an off sensation that you hadn’t felt in awhile. Almost the.. thrive to live? The need to continue breathing, it suddenly took you over, out of nowhere.

The feeling that now isn’t your time to die washed over you, and you refused to just believe that this was all there was for you. You wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to-

—————

You open your eyes again, but immediately shut them. A loud pulsing noise came from beside you, and you cringed away from it. Why was it so loud? You slowly opened your eyes again, them adjusting to the brightness.

There was no one around you, but you could hear two voices talking, and when you looked out into the hallway, Lucifer and Diavolo were standing there, talking in a hushed voice, almost as if trying not to wake you up.

A feeling of dread came over you, and that need to survive was quickly stifled out. You felt the need to cry, so you did just that. Quietly, tears started to stream down your face as you laid down as far as you could.

God, what a mess you had probably made. How could you be so selfish? Who found your body? Thinking back on it, it was probably Beel, the most innocent out of all of them, how could you have done that to him?

Selfish, selfish, that’s all you are. How could you have done that and not even batted an eye about the repercussions? All you think about is yourself, selfish, selfish, selfish-

“[Y/N]?” You heard a gentle voice. You looked over to the doorway and Lucifer stood there. He took off his coat, leaving him in only a black shirt and pants. You didn’t respond. “How are you feeling?”

“I can’t feel the wound yet, so, pretty good,” you tried to joke with him.

“Don’t, don’t do that. Baby, why didn’t you tell me, tell someone? We could have gotten you medicine, allowed you to see your therapist, or a therapist.”

“I didn’t want to be more of a burden than I already was. But now, I guess I made that worse right? I’m sorry. I hoped it would work,” you tell him, and he just furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve probably ruined the program, right? I’m sorry. I was being selfish, I didn’t take into consideration what me trying to commit suicide would do.”

“[Y/N]..” Lucifer started, but trailed off before hugging you, almost ripping you off of the bed. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that your only purpose in the Devildom was to be an exchange student for Diavolo. I know I talk about it a lot, and I’m sorry about that.

“I’m not going to try to come up with excuses as to why I do that, but you better know this right now: you are more than just an exchange student. To me, to my brothers, even to Diavolo. You’re more than that. I love you, and it hurts to see you think of yourself as less than someone worthy of being here.

“I know you’re not going to get better by telling you this, I know that it could take a long time to get better, to make sure you're in a safe place mentally. But I want you to also know that I will be right here, by your side, while you get the help you need.”

You had started crying halfway through his speech. You wrapped your tube-infested arms around him also, deeply breathing in the scent of him that you had missed so much.

“I want to get better, please help me. I’m tired of feeling like this again.”

“Of course, [Y/N]. First thing we’ll do is get you back on your meds and then schedule a therapy appointment, okay? You’re also put under suicide watch, so I’ll be staying with you until you’re granted freedom from that.”

“Thank you, Luci.”

“Of course, [Y/N]. I love you.”

————

This was written by me in no way trying to romanticize mental illnesses. I try to write what I feel would help me in the moment. I completely understand that mental illnesses don’t just ‘disappear’ when you’ve figured out that someone loves you or someone helps you once- that’s why I don’t write what happens after in most cases. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust, or call a hotline.

[lost-in-time-marie]

Into the Shadows: Chapter Two

The rest of the week passed easily. I hung out with Natasha and Katy whenever possible, easily getting into my familiar school routine. I put in extra effort to participate this year, shaking of the previous years’ disinterest. I avoided any form of contact with Ryder; in class a competition took place of who could pretend best that the other wasn’t there; I liked to pretend I won those. Classes picked up eventually and I started getting the first lessons and assignments of the year.

Things did, however, get interesting one Wednesday. Mrs. Robertson was announcing “Romeo and Juliet” to be the play of the semester, a super original choice, I noted with the roll of my eyes, when Mr. Monroe, the principal, walked in. He whispered something to Mrs. Robertson, and she nodded and smiled. A few seconds later Mr. Monroe walked out and ushered a tall, dark, and handsome male inside. A swarm of hushed, excited conversations passed between the girls in class. The guy was handsome; I had to say that, with curly, dark brown hair falling over eyes so brown they were nearly black, wiry muscles hidden under slightly tanned skin, and his face was all angles, smooth and sharp. The class watched curiously as an introduction took place. Mrs. Robertson greeted the new student kindly; he returned her warm smile and shook her hand. Mr. Monroe took his leave just as Mrs. Robertson turned and addressed the class.

         “Class,” she announced, “this is James Sampson, he is new to our area so please be kind to him.” Mrs. Robertson led him to my seat and loudly pushed a desk from the back of class to the side of my desk unoccupied by Ryder. Our school was very popular this year, apparently so was I. For the second time in so many days, the gazes of my peers shot daggers into my back, and I felt every single one.

“I know you already have a partner,” Mrs. Robertson said, gesturing to my other side where Ryder sat, “but would you be a dear and show James around? I know I can trust you to be nice.” Mrs. Robertson flashed a joyful smile and returned to the front of class without even waiting to hear my answer. I didn’t really mind helping out, but seriously? How many new students was she going to place in my care? At least this one appeared nicer than Ryder.

“Is Mrs. Robertson going to put her with all the hot guys?” The girl behind me, Kim, complained to her partner, Elizabeth, who muttered in agreement. I rolled my eyes. God, I hated them so much.

“Hello, I’m James,” the mysterious newcomer greeted me politely, flashing a charming smile and offering his hand after taking a seat. His molten gaze aimed in my direction quickly dispelled my thoughts of Kim and Elizabeth.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Kristin. Welcome to hell,” I joked surprisingly easily, my round face brightening with a warm smile as I took his hand.

“Is this class really that bad?” He chuckled.  

         “Oh, you have no idea. Mrs. Robertson can’t control a class to save her life, and she just finished telling us the play for the semester. Care to take a guess? It’s a huge cliché: Romeo and Juliet,” I whispered, as Mrs. Robertson began passing out the script.

         He let out a low whistle, “Oh man, it’s so much worse than I thought. Just kill me now,” He joked.

         “Only if you promise to take me down with you,” I laughed. James was easy to laugh with, I was surprised to discover. Generally being considered the school outcast and finding it a chore to relate to the rest of my species most of the time, I was impressed by our light interaction. After that, we became instant friends, joking about class and comparing schedules. It turned out we had AP Literature, lunch, and AP Psychology together as well. James glowed with warmth and oozed charm. Acting suddenly became my second favorite class of the day instead of a morning drag.

              “Hey guys, this is James Sampson,” I introduced, plopping down with my tray at the lunch table. Natasha sat beside Aleks, a Russian foreign exchange student who had transferred to our school two years ago. Natasha always had an odd, bordering creepy, fascination with everything Russian for as long as I had known her. The moment Aleks had been ushered into our classroom in tenth grade with his shaggy dark hair, muscular build, dark eyes, pale white skin, and thick accent, she pulled up a desk and befriended him. He stuck with us ever since, I never minded because he was actually a very nice guy.

         “Hello,” James greeted warmly.

         “Nice to meet you,” Natasha said kindly.

         “Hey,” Aleks said casually after a moment of eyeing James warily. I explained that James was new and Mrs. Robertson instructed me to show him around. Shortly thereafter, he won over Natasha and Aleks as easily as he had me. I got the feeling James was just good at that kind of thing; making friends, charming people, adapting to new surroundings. All of us already felt like we’d known him for much longer than a couple of hours.

         “Well, you’re certainly better than the first new kid Kristin had to show around,” Natasha praised openly with a smile.

         Aleks shook his head, before candidly adding “Natasha was just filling me in on that. Ryder is a huge asshole.”

         “Our other partner in Acting?” James asked with a quizzical look.

         “Yeah, I’d watch out for that one, he’s not terribly friendly. He’s said about one whole sentence to me since school started, and that one sentence wasn’t very nice,” I explained, recalling our brief introduction and the hallway when I tried to help him.

         “Yeah, I kind of got that feeling from him. He doesn’t look at us at all; just sits perfectly still and straight in his chair, when the bell rang today, he practically ran out the door.” James observed.

Conversation eventually took a new turn, for which I was thankful, and the rest of lunch passed easily as we introduced James to the school and gave him tips and warnings. Soon the bell rang and I headed off to Teacher Assisting. Helping Mrs. Enders grade papers and make copies certainly doesn’t make a class period go by quickly, but at least she was nice and when I finished my work she let me do my homework in the library. Eventually the torture ended, and I headed off to AP Chemistry, an entirely different, more painful, kind of torture. After what felt like ages of hearing Mrs. Gold ramble about atoms, molecules, ions, and other things I didn’t care about, the bell rang and I bolted for AP Psychology, my favorite class. I caught up with Natasha and James before the late bell rang. We took seats near each other while Natasha dished the latest school gossip. Soon the bell rang, and Sinclair came sweeping in the door, right on time. Class passed quickly as he explained an upcoming project, when the bell rang again, I could hardly believe the school day was over.

“Hey, Natasha, do you mind waiting by the car for me, I need to drop off my volunteer application at the elementary campus,” I said, shoving a binder into my already heavy green backpack.

“Ooh, I want to see the babies,” Natasha cooed excitedly.

“Wait for me at the car, I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail for kidnapping,” I laughed. She sulked and grabbed her books, trudging off to the parking lot.

Our school had an interesting tier design. The high school, my school, stood at the very front of a large piece of property, behind it, across a grassy field, the middle school was built, and across another grassy field, in the very back, sat the elementary school. The elementary school had an after school care program to watch the students whose parents worked late, the school was always looking for volunteers to help out; I loved kids so it was a convenient way to get my mandatory volunteer hours for graduation.

I made the long trek to the elementary campus, taking my time, appreciating the vast greenness of the school fields and the dappled patches of wildflowers growing amongst them. A large brick building loomed closer and closer, a copy of the two other large, brick buildings behind me. My legs led the way without any prodding and I found myself in main office. Air conditioner and the scent of orange sterilizer blasted me the moment I entered. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. None of the office ladies sat behind the long tan counter, which bisected the room. Just when I was about to turn and leave, I noticed a small, black bin perched on the counter labeled Volunteer Applications. I placed my packet in the bin and turned to walk out the door. Instead, I slammed right into the person behind me. At least, I assumed it was a person, because it felt a little more like running into a brick wall.

“Ouch!” I yelled, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Are you alright?” A soft, concerned voice asked from above me. My eyes fluttered open to the sight of Ryder, except he didn’t look like himself. The stone mask I’d grown so accustomed to melted away, worry and concern softening his sharp features.

“I’m fine,” I replied a little dazed, still curiously studying his expression. His jaw line softened from harsh angles to a more rounded edge and his eyes looked more brilliant instead of glaring intimidation. Ryder grabbed my arms gently and pulled me up with ease; he studied me for just a moment longer, then all at once the stone mask slammed into place and he jerked stiffly away.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not letting him turn to stone so easily.

“Picking up my little brother,” Ryder said in the same stiff tone he always used. I sighed and said a half-hearted goodbye, not wanting to be near stone-statue Ryder any longer than I had too.

“What took you so long?” Natasha complained when I finally reached her car.

“Long line,” I muttered sliding into the smooth, leather passenger seat of her car, not feeling up to divulging in a six hour play by play of my run in with Ryder.

“So do you want to come over my house and work on the AP Government assignment?” Natasha asked starting the car and backing out of the parking lot.

“Oh, I completely forgot about it. Yeah, that sounds good, just let me text my mom,” I said. I got permission from my mom and chatted with Natasha about James and other school events for the rest of the short ride to her house.

“Kristin?” Natasha asked in a more cautious voice than usual once we parked in her driveway. I paused halfway through undoing my seatbelt to turn to her, sensing a more serious turn of conversation.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I asked.

“That night I pulled you out of bed, I’m sorry for being so reckless. It was really irresponsible of me. You know how I get in those danger seeking moods with my bipolar disorder,” Natasha apologized softly, staring at the steering wheel.

“It’s really okay, once you ran off I just went home,” I shrugged, wishing to end the conversation. It wasn’t often Natasha had enough insight to realize her actions in her manic phases, I wasn’t quite sure how to take her sudden maturity. Perking back up to her usual self, Natasha retreated into the house ready to begin our project with a clear conscience. As I stepped out of the car to follow her, an image flitted through my mind, a dark figure darting about in the shadows, but the more I reached for the memory, the further it slipped away. I shook my head as if that would dispel the thought, grabbed my books, and ran after Natasha into the house.

    My footsteps echoed on the wet asphalt street. I hugged my jacket closer against the cold, damp air. I warily searched each shadow and dark, empty yard for figures and silhouettes. I felt the oddest sense of déjà vu. Why am I being so nervous? I’d made the short walk from Natasha’s house to mine thousands of times, during both the night and day. I could probably close my eyes and my feet would just lead me home. I squared my small shoulders, shook my head, brown hair smacking me in the face, and told myself to stop being such a baby.

Natasha and I hadn’t intended to work that late. The assignment wasn’t due until next week, but we got an idea and finished the whole project in one night. The next time I looked up it was already 10pm. We quickly packed up and now I was practically jogging home so my mom wouldn’t ground me for breaking curfew. I silently cursed myself for insisting on walking when Natasha offered a ride, but I wasn’t ready to be home so soon.

“Hey! You’re the girl that got my brother in trouble!” A deep, harsh voice shouted at me. I jumped in surprise, shuttled instantly from my thoughts to reality. The dark street came into focus again, but this time in front of me a hulking man blocked my path. The darkness sheltered him; in the only bit of light offered by a distant streetlamp, I could make out thick, rippling muscles. I instinctually backed up. The monstrous man let out a bellowing laugh.

“That’s right, girlie, you should be afraid,” He taunted, taking a giant step forward. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach and I fought desperately against the panic rising within me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked annoyed, faking confidence, “You’re making me late. I have a curfew.” I crossed my arms and stared straight at him. This guy was bigger than a horse, but I was determined to keep up my façade, so I kept glaring at him defiantly and refused to show any weakness. The flashes of images were running rampant behind my eyes, confusing bursts, a flurry of overwhelming emotions. One thought tickled the back of my mind, taunting me with the clarity just out of my reach.

“You better make time for me then,” He bellowed angrily, “You got my brother arrested. He was just being friendly and talking to you. The police arrested him for no reason at all,” He ranted, walking closer. I refused to move an inch.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” I complained, forcing an exasperated sigh. My head was spinning with the force of the memories, and still the one memory I needed for them all to make sense danced just out of reach.

“I’ll just have to finish this matter then,” He rambled nonsensically with an excited smile, sauntering closer. I took several steps back this time, fear crashing down on me like an anvil. The snarky, sarcastic voice in the back of my mind joked about being attacked by such a cliché thug, but fear quickly gagged that voice. This was real, actually happening, it wasn’t like the movies I was accustomed to watching or the stories I was fond of reading. That thought almost pushed me over the edge, and if my joints weren’t locked in place I may have collapsed.

“Run little girl,” the thug whispered, “I’ll even give you a head start.” He taunted.

“That makes you nicer than me,” A light, teasing voice echoed from behind the thug. Suddenly, in the time it took me to blink, the man before me was lying on the floor, leaving a lean figure standing in his wake. The man roared and jumped up. I stood frozen as the lithe figure danced around the man, easily avoiding his blind, rageful attacks.

The memory ripped forward from my subconscious, finally ready to be discovered. I remembered Natasha rapping loudly on my bedroom window, calling me outside to seek danger, and then her leaving me alone in the street. On my journey back home, two experienced thugs trapped me in the dark street and a strange figure saved me. The next thing I knew it was morning and I was waking up in my room thinking the whole ordeal had been a strange dream.

“Oh, you’re going to have to do better than that,” The shadow teased, leaning against an unlit streetlight, pulling me from my reverie. I squinted to get a better look at the figure; it was definitely the one from the other night. The figure was rather tall, a head taller than my 5 foot 3 inches, lean, and muscular. That was all I could discern in the dark. The man bellowed and charged at the shadow, but the figure was already gone, the man instead punched an empty streetlamp with a metallic thud. The thug cried out in pain and whirled around searching for the taunting shadow. His eyes fell on me. Before I could move an inch, if I could have even moved at all, he had his thick, sweaty arms wrapped around me. I gagged on his overwhelming stench of sweat and body odor. His hot breath on my neck made my stomach churn in disgust. I might as well have been restrained by steel bars because no amounts of kicking or squirming made him even ease up.

“How about if I squeeze the life out of your little girlfriend?” The thug shouted at empty air, spinning wildly looking for the figure. This thug smelled about as pleasant as the last, apparently his brother, and his brother I only got a whiff of from a distant. Up close and personal was not a place I wanted to be with this guy.

One moment the man restrained me, the next I dropped quickly to the ground and the man lay behind me in a crumpled heap. The shadow stood with the unconscious man at his feet and made no attempt to approach me. My head swam, black spots dancing across my vision. I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the damp, dirty street and never move again.

“Are you okay? You’re not going to pass out again, are you?” The figured asked from the shadows, his voice softer now, wary. I quickly stood up and brushed myself off. Luckily my huge displeasure at showing emotion to strangers won over my weaker self.

“I don’t think so,” I said, scowling and giving myself a quick once-over. I squinted in the dark trying to get a look at my savior. In the glint of the moonlight I saw only a black, Lone Ranger style mask and dark eyes. I stepped closer to get a better look, but the figure retreated farther.

“It seems you have a knack for trouble,” the figure teased playfully, leaning lazily against the unlit streetlamp again.

“Whatever do you mean?” I joked with mock confusion. I thought I saw him flash a bright grin as he turned to leave.

“Wait!” I shouted, “Don’t I get to know who saved me? Twice,” I added.

He chuckled, “Just stay away from dark streets, they’re dangerous at night.” With that, my hero melted silently into the shadows.

[angelofarts]

Of Crochet and Comas Part Two

Me visiting the hospital on a Sunday was practically unheard of – I had last minute assignments and chores and a dozen other excuses I’d used over the years. And yet I must have been losing my mind, because here I was, sitting in the hospital, anxiously crocheting at my brother’s side. I was listening for the slick sound of leather brogues, and wasn’t focusing on the hat taking shape under my fingers, so when I finally heard the clicking of high heels, I fell backwards in disappointment.

“Well, well, if it isn’t His Superior Craftiness the High Lord of Crochet,” a sarcastic voice intoned from the door. I almost gave myself whiplash as I swung my head around, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Not only was Tesha there, so were Richard, Lisa, and a girl who looked so much like Lisa that she had to be a close relative. I felt blood seep from my neck into my face, making a blotchy flush that I hadn’t experienced in years, as I realized that Tesha must have complained to her friends about how I had spoken to her.

The younger girl crossed her arms. “So you’re the one who was mean to Tesha.”

“His name is Aaron, Julia,” Richard muttered. It was gratifying to see that at least he seemed as uncomfortable as I was, stuck in his wheelchair and thus forced to watch, since the girls were blocking the door.

“It doesn’t matter what his name is,” Lisa declared loftily, leaning against the door. “He was mean to Tesha, so we want him to apologize.”

“I’m right here,” I pointed out. “You shouldn’t talk about people in front of them.”

“You shouldn’t insult people’s hobbies and handmade gifts either, yet you did both,” Lisa countered.

I groaned quietly. “Just leave. You’re going to upset my brother.”

Tesha shook her head at Richard when Julia snorted out, “Your brother isn’t going to get upset, he’s asleep.”

I gestured for them to enter, which they did warily, as though scared I would use my big bad crochet hook to bite them. I pointed at one of the monitors.

“Look, you see that spiking? That measures brain activity. Kenzo is very much awake, so if you could please stop dressing me down in front of him, I’d appreciate it.”

Tesha smiled and took Kenzo’s hand, squeezing it softly. “Hi, Kenzo. It’s nice to think that you’ve heard me every time I come in here. Sorry that your main source of conversation is your self-entitled brother who can’t understand the value of a craft he doesn’t perform.”

I groaned again. “It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t know you knitted it yourself!”

While Julia and Lisa laughed together at my exasperation, I leaned over to reach my backpack.

“And actually I did come with an apology, I just didn’t think I’d be delivering it in front of anyone else. Here.”

I passed her a light blue lacy hat. Made in subtle heathering yarn, it had a pattern that seemed like it would suit her nineteenth century aesthetic, and surprisingly it matched the legwarmers that slouched over her calves and high heels where her knee length dark green skirt stopped.

“Oh it’s lovely,” she breathed, pulling it on. Richard reached up and pulled on the back of it, allowing the slouch to form, and suddenly Tesha looked less like a girl from the 1950’s and more like a girl from this century. As she moved into the sun to thank me, I was struck by the silver of her grey eyes – that couldn’t be a natural colour, could it?

“Where are our hats?” Richard demanded, ruining the moment. It was a good thing he did, before I blurted out something to embarrass myself.

I raised an eyebrow. “Were you not just telling me how Tesha’s stuff is better?”

“No,” Julia said as she folded herself onto the floor. “We said Tesha is nicer so we like her better. She actually talks to us.”

Lisa looked a little embarrassed at the way her - sister? Cousin? Random acquaintance that shares enough in the genetic pool that she looks like her and thus has claimed a strange form of family? – was talking to me, but she didn’t correct the statement.

“Is that what you think of me?” I demanded hotly.

Richard shrugged, making the blanket around his shoulders slip again. “Well, yeah? You only ever talk to Bert and Lizzie, and that’s if you talk to anyone before you rush in here.”

Tesha absentmindedly pulled the blanket back up to cover Richard’s bony shoulder as she addressed me. “I didn’t even know you existed until yesterday, and I’ve been volunteering for a year.”

“I tried to say hi to you once in the parking lot,” Julia piped up. We all stared at her, until she grumbled, “Okay, fine, but still.”

“Anyways,” Lisa said, resuming unofficial leader of the team, “what we’re trying to say is that you can’t say we don’t try to be nice to you.”

I shrugged. “I don’t have time. I have to see Kenzo.”

“Yes, because your brother is such a good conversationalist,” she replied drily. “If he was awake, can you honestly tell me he’d want you here instead of with people your own age?”

“He is awake,” I reminded her. “He can hear everything you’re saying. And yeah, Kenzo was never big on telling me what to do, so he’d let me stay here if I wanted to.” Lie. Big fat lie. In the way of older siblings everywhere throughout all of time, Kenzo adored telling me exactly what to do and how to do it, confident that a year gave him some kind of mystical ability to boss me around.

Julia stretched out on the floor, letting her blonde hair fan out. “It doesn’t seem like you talk to him much anyways, since when we came in you were quiet.”

“Aren’t you worried about dirt?” I inquired, distracted by the light hitting her hair. It was almost light enough that I could imagine it to be reflective, the kind of white blonde you only ever see on people of Scandinavian descent.

Lisa scoffed loudly. “It’s a hospital. This is probably the cleanest floor in the whole of the village, she’s fine.”

“I dunno,” Tesha said, sounding like she was reluctant to agree with me. “You never know what someone may have trekked in from outside.”

She and Lisa began to debate back and forth, until Richard interrupted with a loud cough that started fake and quickly turned real, hacking and deep.

“You okay Rick?” Julia asked, real concern clouding her features. He held up a dark hand, warning her from coming closer.

“Fine,” he said after clearing his throat three times. “Tesha, could you help me get back to my room?”

I was surprised at the request. From what little I knew of Richard, he hated to seem reliant on anyone, often rejecting the assistance of his nurses and operating the wheel chair himself on pure determination.

“Of course,” Tesha murmured, grasping the handles. “Lisa, Jules, don’t go anywhere.” They left the room in a blur of dark green skirts.

Lisa exchanged a worried look with her… relative. I was almost positive they had to be relatives of some kind. You don’t get eyes that pale a blue on two people by chance.

“Tesha will take care of him,” Julia reassured her. “And you know he doesn’t mind it. She doesn’t baby him.”

Aha. That answered one question at least.

Hesitantly, I sat back down and picked up the project I had been working on before this whole fiasco started. A bright red beanie, using a puffy popcorn stitch, and with a button band on the side for decorative purposes. The feel of the yarn gliding through my fingers soothed me, and I was surprised to find that I felt real concern for the boy I’d known in passing for a year. Knowing he was sick, and understanding the reality of that, appeared to be two different things.

“What’s that?” Lisa asked, clearly trying to distract herself. “What you’re making, I mean.”

“Another hat. My mom struggles with winter, so it’s an easy way to make sure she doesn’t get sick.”

Julia plopped down next to me and examined the portion I’d finished. “You know, I bet Odette would love this,” she mused. “She’s always in red.”

“Odette?”

“One of the cancer kids,” Lisa explained. “She comes in twice a week for chemo and treatment. She used to have this gorgeous mane of hair, like a mermaid, and it was about hip length, but she lost it about three months ago. Shook her, hard.”

“Odette?” Tesha asked, entering the room again. She took disinfectant out of her skirt pocket and wiped her hands carefully. Lisa nodded.

“Well, it was very nice shaking you down, Mr. Aaron,” Julia said as she rose, “but unlike my sister, I have school tomorrow and have homework to catch up on. Nice insulting you though!”

My confused, “you too?” was lost as she left the room in a rush, and Lisa, after waving at me, went after her, thereby confirming – sisters.

Tesha looked at the slim silver watch on her wrist and sighed. “I have to go too. I have homework due for two classes first thing tomorrow, and I should help Julia study for maths, otherwise Lisa and her roommate will end up killing her.”

I rose, unsure of what exactly I was planning to do, until I held my hand out awkwardly.

“Nice seeing you again?” I offered.

“Nice not being insulted,” she returned, laughing lightly as she slipped her hand into mine. “Let’s try this again next week, yeah?”

I stood staring at the door stupidly long after she left, my murmured “yeah” ringing in my ears softly.

*

I opened up my laptop, staring at the draft of my essay. Slowly, I pressed the backspace key and erased the words I’d typed last night. When a blank page stared at me, I took a deep breath and, for the third time, attempted to define myself.

Today, I spoke to a knitter, a sister, and two fighters….

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

So, I learned something recently...

Mary Kate Olsen (the top billed twin; I feel kinda bad for Ashley) is married to a man 17 years her senior, who also happens to be the half brother to the former President of France.

That sounds like the plot to one of their movies! Like, there’s a foreign exchange student at their school and they discover that he’s secretly foreign royalty.  I can picture the whole thing in my head, I’ve thought about this a lot:

It has a late 90s/early 2000s aesthetic; kinda grungey and “totally radical, dude!”

Twins Mary Jane and Kelsey are just your average upper middle class teenagers living in multi-million dollar beachfront property with their widower dad, a security guard with dreams of being a detective.  His firm just got a big contract to provide security for the visiting diplomats of the vaguely Eastern European kingdom of Slovotia (it’s generically foreign; funny accents, weird customs, offensive Slavic stereotypes, the works. The writers based it on Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Austria-Hungary, Ruritania, Backwardistan, etc)

At school, the girls are introduced to hunky Slovotian exchange student Nico.  He’s, like, SO cool, but he doesn’t flaunt it.  He’s quiet, tries not to make waves, and sneaks away at lunch to be by himself; the girls follow him and find him talking to a a burly bodyguard.  Turns out, he’s the Crown Prince of Slovotia!  His uncle, Count Bartok (who is clearly the antagonist but SHHH don’t tell anyone, we don’t know that yet) is visiting America as part of the Slovotian delegation; his brother, the King, wants to normalize relations with the west, but the Count doesn’t really like America.

Nico and his bodyguard Dolf (a hulking man of few words) ask the girls not to reveal his secret; he just wants to live a normal life, and be a normal teenager.  The girls decide to show him around town and introduce him to hip American concepts like the mall and beaches and fast food.

They buy a hot dog from a street vendor, and Nico looks appalled.  “My uncle, he say Americans, they are dogs, but I did not know they were to be eating them, yes?”

“They’re not really made out of dog, Nico!  Try it, you’ll like it.”

He takes one bite, and is enraptured.  “This is best thing I have ever to be eating!”  He walks over to the vendor and offers to buy him out.  “You there, meat monger. This dog that is hot, it is food fit for king!  I buy your shop, I pay ten million Slovotian Kronle, good price yes?”

“Sure thing, whatever you say boss!  Good price!  Great price!  My ticket’s finally come it, it’s easy street from here on out!”

They show him around “the city.”  It’s never specified which city that is though; they live on a beach and go surfing, so it might be LA, but there are hotdog vendors and people with Brooklyn accents, so it could just as well be New York.  Maybe there’s a shot in the middle of the film where the bad guys are looking at a satellite map of the USA, and the camera zooms into the center of the country, or there’s a blinking red dot somewhere on a random coast.  The point is that there is no definitive location; it’s just meant to represent whatever city is closest to the viewer’s hometown (the writers didn’t put that much effort into it because this is a no budget direct-to-VHS Mary Kate and Ashley movie.  What did you expect?)

Dolf follows them everywhere they go, and Nico complains that he wants to have some privacy.  “You do not be seeing other kids with bodyguards, yes?”  Wacky hijinks ensue as the trio try to evade him; there’s definitely a chase scene set to a punk rock song like SR-17′s ‘Right Now’ or something by Bowling For Soup.  They sit on a park bench reading newspapers as Dolf runs by, then hightail it in the opposite direction.  They casually steal hats and sunglasses from passersby to blend into the crowd.  They walk in line behind a couple buys carrying a sofa.  The chase ends with them hopping into a taxi and laughing with one another as we see Dolf give chase for a second before giving up in frustration.

Nico confides in the girls that life as a prince is not easy.  His father, King Vladimyr XVI, is always telling him how big a responsibility he has, how important he is to Slovotia’s future.  “My father, he tell me, Nico, you will one day be King, so you must to be acting like one, yes?”  It’s so hard to be royal, he can never just be himself, he has to act a certain way to make his parents happy.  The girls tell him that they know exactly what he means; high school isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either.  They have homework and chores, and they too have to act a certain way or the cool kids will think they’re a couple of losers with a capital L (Nico doesn’t understand what the word cool means, “what does temperature have to be doing with this?”)

Suddenly, the trio is attacked by some dude in a track suit and gold chains with a jersey accent; he tries to kidnap Nico, and just when all hope seems lost Dolf appears from nowhere and lifts the would-be abductor up by the collar.

They interrogate him; Dolf holds him by the ankles from a second story window.  “I ain’t sayins nothin, youse will never get a word outta me.”

Dolf says that if he doesn’t start talking he will disappear.  “Maybe you wake up in gulag, yes?”

He sings like a canary.  He was hired by Count Bartok to kidnap Nico.  Bartok hates America and thinks his older brother Vladimyr is foolish for trying to normalize relations with them.  He hoped that by having Nico kidnapped, he could blame the American government and end the diplomatic mission early.  If anything were to happen to the boy, Bartok would become next in line to be king!  He’s going to blame the girls’ father for Nico’s disappearance because he was supposed to be head of security.

“That’s everything I know. Hey, I’m sorry, okays?  I just needed the money, ya know? I ain’t a bad guy, I’m just in a bad sitchy-ation.”  The girls tell Dolf that he can let the kidnapper go, but he takes this literally and drops him out of the window (onto a bush! He’s fine)

They have to race to city hall to meet the Slovotian delegation and stop Bartok from doing anything drastic.  Mary Kate plays the edgy tomboy, so she teaches Nico and Dolf how to skateboard so they can get across town super fast.  This sequence is filmed with a fish eye lens so it looks “totally bodacious.” As the group barrels down the crowded sidewalk, pedestrians leap out of their way.

They make it just in time to be locked out of the ceremony.  Bartok is giving a big speech condemning the Americans for kidnapping his poor nephew, and the girls have to watch helplessly as their dad is taken away in handcuffs.  Dolf uses his espionage training to break into city hall and get the trio into the sound booth undetected.

“Hey Dolf, where’d you learn to do all this stuff?”

“I have many skills” (he is implied to be ex-KGB and it’s played for laughs)

The girls interrupt Bartok’s speech with video they took of the kidnapper revealing his entire plan.  Bartok denies it, but the girls’ dad pulls some as-yet-unseen sleuthing skills out of his ass to prove that Bartok is lying, finally living his dream of being a detective.  Nico bursts into the room and orders the Slovotian guards to arrest his uncle, but Bartok pulls a pistol and holds one of the twins hostage.  Nico uses some of the American skills he learned to free her (he kicks his skateboard towards Bartok’s feet, and he slips on it)

Bartok is taken away, screaming that he would have gotten away with it were it not for those meddling twins, and the girls break the fourth wall by making a Scooby-Doo joke to the camera.  Nico delivers a heartfelt speech to the gathered crowd at city hall about how much he has come to love America and how he’s proud to be representing Slovotia and normalizing relations with the west.  He wants to open malls and hot dog stands and skateboard parks in Slovotia, and he gets a standing ovation as the mayor awards him the key to the city.

The girls are so proud of their dad, and he is just as proud of them.  Just then, King Vladimyr and Queen Anastasia themselves make a live appearance, apparently having flown all the way from Slovotia (it’s never explained how they got there so fast).  They thank the girls for helping their son, and award their father their kingdom’s highest honor. They even offer him a job as Dolf’s second in command, but he declines, saying he’d rather remain at his humble career and raise his family in the states.

The girls encourage Nico to tell his father how he feels.  He knows he will be king someday, but that is very far off, and he would like some time to just be a kid instead of a prince all the time.  The King decrees that Nico may stay in the United States and have a normal high school experience, “you are to be having twelve bodyguards instead of twenty now, good compromise, yes?”  The girls roll their eyes and laugh; Nico’s dad still has a lot to learn!

Nico tells the girls that they are “very cold” (he meant “cool,” but it’s the thought that counts)  He and Mary Kate kiss, and Ashley jokingly asks if he has a brother.  As it turns out, there’s a nerdy kid at school who is played by the same actor as Nico who’s had a crush on her for years, so she gets with him instead (once he takes off his glasses)

Freeze frame

THE END

Roll credits

80 minute run time

Return the tape to Blockbuster and never watch it again

[softupshur]

The Lord Rejoices: Chapter 1

Next>

Ao3 Link if you’re into that kind of thing

This work is a sequel, so if you haven’t read the original you may want to check out.

~Updates every Sunday~ During Temple Gate's founding years, Marta nears womanhood and wonders of God's plan for her.

*Warning that while this particular chapter is harmless, this story will go into game typical content involving young characters*

Chapter 1:

“For whom was it by that the line of Adam corrupted beyond salvation?”

While other students flipped through their gospels and avoided Mrs. Carson’s eye, Marta’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Marta?”

With her worn and yellowed gospel in hand, Marta stood straight and tall. “It was through Cain’s sin that the line of Adam displeased the Lord. For as Chapter 2, Verse 3 says, he was uncircumcised of heart and stiff-necked,’ corrupting his line by the murder of his brother, Abel. Thus we are descended from such sin and must seek redemption in the Lord’s eyes, as Cain’s wickedness flows through our blood.”

“Very good, Marta. Nonetheless, man continues to believe himself made of an incorruptible gold.” Her gaze returned to the sea of students. “Can anyone tell me what drives man to believe in this lie?”

Marta’s hand rose again, but Mrs. Carson only sighed. “Can we hear from someone other than Marta?”

The students opted to stare at the clock on the wall or pretend to take notes rather than volunteer. She sought the roster for a victim. “Hm...who have we not heard from in a while—ah! Otis, why do you think man continues to believe himself incorruptible?”

Snickers erupted through the class and Mrs. Carson rubbed her temple at Otis, whose head rested on the desk, unresponsive. “Can someone wake Otis?”

As she sat at the desk beside him, Marta reached over to poke his shoulder.

It was enough to make him stir, but he still took his time sitting up. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, evoking laughter from the class.

“What did I miss this time?” he grumbled.

Mrs. Carson pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “What is it that makes man believe himself to be above corruption?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“Stand, please. You know the rules.”

After stretching, Otis stood. “Uh…” While searching for an answer, he caught a glimpse of Marta’s gospel at the furthest corner of her desk. Once he brushed his overgrown hair out of his eyes, he was able to read it.

Marta pointed to the second verse in the second chapter.

“Because of the lies received from the traditions of our fathers?” Otis attempted after scanning the mercifully short verse.

“And why are those lies created?”

“Uh…” Otis looked again to Marta, but Mrs. Carson hadn’t the patience.

“Paige! Do you think you can help Otis?

In the front row, a rosy-cheeked girl stood. “It’s because it is easier to accept a lie than face a harsh truth.”

“That’s correct, and do you know what it is that keeps man in his ignorance?”

“That would be fear.”

“Fear of what?”

Paige hesitated as she looked down at her hands. “The fear that they are not predestined as we are in Temple Gate to receive salvation and His everlasting mercy.”

“That’s right.” She motioned for Paige to sit and reclaimed her lesson. “Outside Temple Gate, man will tell you that God forgives all; that Heaven welcomes everyone, when in truth only the chosen few can be saved. Those few are the faithful ones who are willing to take up the Lord’s battle to earn His love and mercy, rather than lie in complacency and take His power for granted. For those who believe otherwise, there is only the pit.” Her eyes wandered to the ticking clock on the wall and she went to scrawl an objective onto the blackboard. “Now, there will be no regular homework for tonight because tomorrow is a test day. You are to use the time to study Chapter 2 of the prophet’s word. You will be graded on both a written portion and your dictation, so be diligent in your work.”

After giving the students a moment to write their tasks, she bowed her head. “Now let us pray.”

When the class followed her lead, she began. “Our Father who art in Heaven, we thank Thee for the luxury to gather in Your name and learn Your word. Bless all those present among us. Be with them as they journey home, and bless them with Your all-knowing and loving nature. Praise be to the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Knoth, amen.”

“Amen,” the class echoed.

The chiming of the bells broke through the school walls. The pealing was heavy and low, the kind that rattled the bones of any too close. In the silence that followed, students gathered their things and gravitated into groups. Most departed quickly in a flurry of chatter but a few lingered, Otis being one of them, dragging.

“Are you alright?” Marta asked of his sluggishness.

“Hm?” Otis blinked a few times. “Yeah, just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Then you should consider retiring earlier. This is the third time this week you’ve slept through class.”

“Easier said than done. Seth has yet to understand the concept of bedtime.”

“Oh, I see.” Marta’s tone softened. “He really never gets tired?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen.”

“My sincerest apologies.”

“Thanks.” Otis slung his bag over his shoulder. “Hate to say hi and bye, but I got a lot of work waiting for me when I get home.”

“I understand. Good day and God bless.”

Never did Otis return her blessings, but he always offered a wave when they parted. “See ya tomorrow.”

When he left, Paige took his place. “Hi, Marta!”

“Good afternoon. How are you doing today?” Marta attempted a smile, but they were never as warm as Paige’s.

“Great! I was worried I would choke on the question like last week, but I did pretty good if I do say so myself!” Though she was one of the shortest girls in class, she puffed her chest out and stood as tall as she could.

Marta nodded. “Yes, you did very well. Especially with being called on so quickly like that.”

“I really should have seen it coming when she called on Otis.” Paige tsked.

“God help him.” Marta shook her head.

“Speaking of help, do you mind coming down to the farm? Dad is going to be home late, and I have to do a few extra chores when I get home. Would you care to lend me a hand? I could make us something to eat later.”

“I’d love to,” Marta replied.

“Great! Let’s go!” Paige took Marta’s wrist and led her out of the schoolhouse, a skip in her step. She chattered happily about this and that while Marta was content to listen. They went through the schoolyard, Paige meandering past bicycles and toys the younger children abandoned after recess. When they made it through, she let go to trot ahead.

Dark ink smudged Marta’s skin. Some faintly resembled letters. She stopped in her tracks and held up her wrist. “Paige.”

“Hm, yes?” Paige turned around. Her smile vanished when she saw the marks. “Oh.”

“Were you cheating again?”

Paige shrugged and showed the palms of her hands littered with notes and verse numbers. “I think of it more like a study guide.”

“Paige!”

“What? It’s not that I don’t get it. I’m just not as good at memorizing verses and lessons as you.”

“That just means you should study more.”

“More? But I already hear it all the time between sermon, school, and you. I’m bound to memorize it eventually. What’s wrong with having a little guide until I do?”

“Nonetheless, a few recitations wouldn’t hurt, especially with tomorrow’s test. How about we do a few after your chores?”

Though Paige pouted, she conceded with a dragged out, “Fine.”

For the remainder of the walk, they faded into idle chatter. Their destination was one of the smallest homes in Temple Gate: The Larsen Farm, built with only enough room to house Paige and her father. However, their yard was one of the largest, allowing space for dozens of chickens to wander freely. When the chickens saw Paige nearing, they rushed to the gate.

“Hello, lovelies!” Paige threw open the gate and crouched down so she could pet each one and greet them by name. “You should say hello too, Marta! They hadn’t seen you in a while.”

Only three days had passed since Marta saw them. She looked down and said a quiet, “Hello.”

Most of the chickens remained in their huddle around Paige. Only one broke away to peck at Marta’s boot.

Marta took a step back. “I don’t think they like me much.”

“Nonsense! That’s just Henrietta’s way of saying hi!”

Three pecks later and Henrietta returned to the huddle, which parted when Paige stood. They followed her in a noisy flock and Marta trailed behind them. She was careful not to step on any tail feathers until they came to a coop about the size of a large shed.

Inside were rows of nesting boxes. Most of them were empty, but resting hens occupied a few. Hay covered the floor and a full feeder stood in the center. Against one of the walls sat a basket so large that it took both hands to hold. Above it, a clipboard hung from a tack that Paige took. “You mind holding the basket?”

“Not at all.” Marta took the basket and followed Paige as she gathered eggs from each nest. She made a tally on the clipboard after each one. In another column were names of townspeople that Paige marked off as well. The basket was filled to the brim by the time she was through.

“It’s all thanks to our girls working so hard. Isn’t that right?” Paige knelt down to pet a few of the chickens.

They all clucked in agreement.

“Don’t get too excited now,” she said, “We still have some work to do.”

To pass the time between tasks, Marta and Paige exchanged rumors picked up around town. Paige told of the neighbor couple whose cow had twin calves the same day as the wife bore two healthy sons, and a recipe for the best cornbread Paige had been trying to get the older ladies to tell her. They always said “when you’re married,” no matter how much Paige pressed.

Marta, in turn, shared of a feud amongst the deacons of whether resources should be used to expand the chapel or build new homes for the growing population. Without Knoth to guide them, they bickered constantly. Some requested that Marta speak to Knoth on their behalf, but she always told them to pray for guidance. She never stayed to hear the arguments that followed.

“And that should about cover it,” Paige said once the rumors ran dry and the chores through. “Thanks so much for your help. I didn’t think we’d be able to finish so quickly.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m glad I could be of service.”

“I say we did enough to deserve some snacks, c’mon!”

They started for the house so small that Marta had to duck her head to pass through the doorway. Inside, the home was cozy. The wooden floors always shone, a hand-knitted afghan draped over the sofa, and Paige’s embroidery projects decorated the walls.

The grey family mouser cat, Thomas, meowed a hello as they entered and rubbed against Paige’s leg. “Whatever he does, don’t listen to him,” she whispered to Marta. “He’ll play nice but he’s not supposed to eat for another two hours.”

“I see…”

While Paige gathered snacks, Marta took a seat, but her knees bumped on the table. She stretched her legs to the side, nearly kicking Thomas’s food bowl, and her bony hips edged the arm rests. It felt as if the chair were made for a doll rather than a person.

After a few minutes, Paige placed the snacks on the table and sat across from Marta, who already opened her gospel.

“Shall we practice recitations now?”

Paige pouted. “Do we have to? I was having a nice time just hanging out.”

“Just for a little. It will help with the test tomorrow.”

“Oh, alright.” Paige took out her own gospel. “Where are we starting?”

“Chapter 2.”

“Okay.” After finding her place, Paige skimmed over the words. “I guess I should start, huh?”

“If you would.”

Paige took a deep breath as she turned her gospel over and started. “Verse 1: Therefore—I mean, wherefore, gird up the loins of you that would listen...ready your minds. Be open and sober in patience for revelation, as obedient as children to parents, as parents to…”

“Another ‘P’ word,” Marta said when Paige trailed off too long.

“Prophets!”

“Right! Keep going.”

“As prophets to God and His angels. Verse 2: For as much as you—”

“‘Ye,’” Marta said.

“Oh, for as much as ye know that you—”

“‘Ye.’”

“Know that ye were not made incorruptible by incorruptible gold, so are the lies of traditions received from ye—”

“‘Your.’”

Paige huffed. “Why does it constantly switch between ‘ye’ and ‘you’? Wouldn’t it be easier to just pick one or the other?”

“The gospel is transcribed as the Lord makes it known to our prophet. Papa copies it as closely as he can remember, but he is still only a man, despite his gift of communing with our Lord Almighty.”

“Yeah, but...I’d still just pick one,” Paige said. “It’s so hard to read this way.”

“That is why it is of utmost importance that we study His word. It comes to us in a nearly pure, unfiltered state. Thus, it is to be expected that it takes multiple readings and studies to fully comprehend with our imperfect, human understanding. You need only practice patience and diligence and it shall become clear.”

“If you say so…”

They continued their studies until Paige successfully recited the full chapter. Marta congratulated her and Paige offered her gratitude.

“You were such a big help today around the farm. Let me send you home with something to say thanks.”

“That won’t be necessary, really—”

But Paige was already at the icebox, pulling out a half-dozen carton of eggs. “It’s not much, but I want you to have these as a thank-you. They’re fresh and can help you make a good meal.”

“You really don’t have to. It’s my pleasure to help, truly. I don’t want to deprive your home for something I volunteered to do.”

“It’s as much of a help to us as it is to you in your home. We always have too many anyhow.”

Only then could Marta accept Paige’s offering and go on her way.

Outside, she shivered in the autumn chill, and pulled her shawl over her shoulders before the walk home. The path she followed cut through town square, which bustled during the day with craftsmen and laborers gathering to trade their goods and services. With the setting sun, it quieted to only a few stray workers who started home as well. They greeted Marta and gave their regards to the prophet before musing over what their wives prepared for dinner.

Past the square, the houses became fewer and farther between until there came an incline in the trail. Atop it was the largest home. It stood at two stories but grander than any, with the exception of the chapel. All of Temple Gate could be seen from its spot.

Marta didn’t need to lower her head when she entered. She breathed easily underneath the high ceilings and spacious rooms, and left her school bag and shawl by the door. With the carton of eggs in hand, she went to the icebox. It took some rearranging for the contents to fit, along with taking out the leftover beef to make a stew for dinner. While it never turned out as sweet as she hoped, it came with a roasted, smoky scent that welcomed her after a chilly day.

She set two places at the table, when she realized she had neglected to get the rolls from the pantry. However, she found the basket empty.

A heavy sigh followed. She abandoned the kitchen to travel up the stairs. There were two directions she could go. Left led to her bedroom. Right went to the one place in the home forbidden to her.

She went right.

Though she was not to enter Knoth’s bedroom without his explicit permission, the door was never locked. She only took a deep breath to prepare herself to pass through the doorway.

The smell of incense and wine always made her eyes water, strongest at the bed that was too plush and large for one man. She pulled it until exposing an old rug. Folding it over revealed several loose floorboards. When Marta removed them, there was a cache of food large enough to last a week. Within it were the rolls wrapped in cloth, which Marta took. The rest, she left in its place, putting the boards back and the rug as it was.

She stood so she could push the bed back to its proper spot when something metallic clattered onto the ground. At Marta’s feet lay the hunting knife that took Knoth’s eye years before. Once she finished pushing the bed, she picked up the blade and tucked it underneath the pillow before before leaving the room.

Upon exiting, she took in a deep breath of clean air before descending the stairs and returned to the dining room to finish setting the table and fetching the drinks. Beside Knoth’s, she placed three capsules, one for migraines, another for aching joints, and the third to help him sleep.

Then, she straightened the tablecloth and waited. She fiddled with the food on her plate, but never took a bite. Occasionally, she looked up at the front door, but never for more than a moment.

No one entered, but Marta sat until the food went cold. Only then did she take a bite. Three more and she abandoned the meal. She placed Knoth’s portion in the overstuffed ice box, then dumped her own in the trash. She glanced at the door once more before retiring for bed.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

hunger - chapter 11

Hunger master post. 

 Stiles is surprised at how easily he fits in with Scott and Melissa. He doesn’t have that same feeling he did at the foster homes they put him in. Like he had to ask to use the bathroom, and was afraid to help himself to food out of the refrigerator, and he always felt like he was a guest in someone else’s house, always careful of what he said and did, and itching under his skin because he couldn’t just be him. He doesn’t get any of that here. The McCalls’ house is comfortable. It feels like it could be a home. He’s not treated like a guest here. He’s treated like he fits.

He misses his dad.

He misses the dog.

He cries himself to sleep more than once, but it’s okay. It’s grief. It’s not helplessness. His tears are cathartic, not desperate.

He has a pile of clothes that Scott has given him. It’s mostly stuff that Scott is growing out of. Stiles is skinny enough thanks to living on the streets that he fits them. He’s a little taller than Scott so the jeans aren’t quite the right length, but Stiles doesn’t care. Who’s he got to impress anyway?

He does a few chores around the house while Melissa is working and Scott is at school. He wonders how long it will be until it feels like the walls are closing in on him. A while yet, probably. The house is warm and safe. During the day he researches his dad’s case, and wonders if it will raise any red flags anywhere if he tries to order a copy of the transcripts online. Then he figures they’re not really what he needs anyway. He needs the notes from the initial investigation, not the prosecutor’s polished presentation. For that, he needs Rafa McCall. And for Rafa McCall to even think of giving them to him, he needs evidence.

He takes one of Scott’s unused school notebooks and makes a list of what he already knows. Which isn’t much apart from Kate Argent’s name, her brother’s address, G. Argent’s address—are they even related?—and how she shot his dog.

He thinks back to that, trying to divorce himself from the impending panic.

“Hello again, Derek. You don’t look so good.”

Except Stiles’s name isn’t Derek, and as far as he remembers he’s never met Kate Argent before in his life.

Derek.

The name snags in the threads of his memory like a hook, but Stiles can’t quite tug the memory free. He pushes it aside for now.

Stiles makes himself a cup of coffee—the caffeine helps settle the more annoying symptoms of his ADD—and takes it into the living room. He sits down on the couch and reaches for his notebook.

Scott’s laptop is open. Stiles was searching the Herald earlier. The elusive mountain lion still hasn’t been caught.

Stiles taps his pen against his chin, and thinks of Kate Argent again, and the exchange she had with Allison’s dad outside his house a few nights ago.

“I told Dad I’d check and see if you’d had any luck bringing down the alpha. Clearly you haven’t.”

Alpha. What is the alpha? First letter of the Greek alphabet. Term co-opted by asshole meninist PUAs. An episode from season six of The X-Files. And, in hunting terms, the foremost animal in a pack, right? Except that mountain lions aren’t pack animals. So what exactly is Chris Argent hunting?

Stiles sips his coffee.

What the hell is going on out there in the Preserve? Chris Argent is hunting something, and Scott got bitten by something, and all of it, every fucking thing, comes right back to those blackened ruins in the clearing, doesn’t it? Everything comes back to the Hale fire.

Maybe Stiles has been coming at this the wrong way.

Maybe he doesn’t need to prove Kate Argent framed his dad.

Maybe he needs to prove she had something to do with the Hale fire.

***

  Stiles likes helping Scott with his homework. He’s missed school. Not the other students or the teachers or whatever, but he’s missing learning. Stiles has always been wired a little differently than a lot of kids. Scott is basically failing Biology, and even though it’s been months since Stiles cracked open a textbook he falls easily back into the rhythm of studying.

“All I know is the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!” Scott says. “And I learned that from a meme!”

He looks so miserable that Stiles can’t help laughing at him. “It’s okay, Scotty. We’ll make sure you pass!”

“Thanks, dude. I need all the help I can get.”

Stiles chews his bottom lip for a moment. “Are you still hanging with Allison?”

“Yeah.” Scott flushes. “It really sucks that I can’t tell her about you, you know? She said that she keeps driving around town hoping she’ll spot you somewhere.”

Stiles’s breath catches. He tries to smile. “Hopefully not to hand me over to her aunt the cop, right?”

“No.” Scott holds his gaze. “Stiles, she says she hasn’t said anything to her aunt about even knowing you. I believe her.”

“Kate Argent set my dad up,” Stiles says. “Or at least helped whoever did.”

“What?” Scott’s jaw drops. “Seriously?”

“I don’t have any proof,” Stiles says. “But I heard her on the phone to my dad, warning him to drop the investigation into the Hale fire. So I’m guessing that she had something to do with the fire as well.”

“But that was an accident…” Scott trails off. “Wasn’t it?”

“My dad didn’t think so.” Stiles twists his hands together. The knot of anxiety in his gut is growing larger.

“Holy shit.” Scott’s gaze grows distant. “Cora Hale was the year above me in elementary school.”

“I didn’t know them,” Stiles says. “I went to Stuart, not Beacon Hills.”

“Ooh,” Scott teases. “A private school kid! Very swanky!”

“My mom taught there.” He looks down at the open Biology textbook. “We paid reduced fees. It was a Montessori school, which turned out to be a good fit for a kid with ADD plus zero social skills.” 

When he looks up again, Scott shows him an encouraging smile.

“Anyway.” Stiles closes the textbook. “I never met the Hales.”

“Cora was kind of scary,” Scott says. “I heard they never found her body.”

Just another thing that never added up about the Hale fire. Why would the Hales hide in the basement after a gas line explosion? And the fire investigator had said that the fire burned at such a high temperature that there was simply nothing to find of some of the bodies. Cora had never been found. Neither had one of the adults. And another one of the kids too. The teenage boy. The brother.

Derek.

Derek.

Stiles scrambles for Scott’s laptop.

Derek Hale. Sixteen years old.

Holy shit.

Stiles finds a picture online of a guy in a Beacon Hills High basketball uniform. A guy who looks absolutely nothing like Stiles.

“Hello again, Derek. You don’t look so good.”

Kate Argent must be crazy, or that’s her guilty conscience speaking.

He wonders, when she has people over, if she can hear a telltale heart beating from under the floorboards.

If she does, it serves her right.

 ***

 They order pizza because it helps with homework. That’s a scientific fact. They eat the pizza in front of the TV, which doesn’t help at all with homework.

“So you think Allison’s aunt had something to do with the Hales?” Scott asks.

“Yeah.” Stiles picks off a piece of pepperoni and eats it. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“We should really tell my mom,” Scott says. “And my dad.”

“Not without proof! If we tell your dad, then he’s obligated to do something about me being a missing person. And, you know, wanted by the police.”

Scott sumps back against the couch. “I can’t believe she shot your dog.”

Stiles feels the customary low burn of anger in his gut flare for a moment.

“Sucks, dude.”

Yeah. It really, really does. 

 ***

 They talk for a while about whether or not to tell Allison what’s going on. If her aunt has links to the Hale fire, than surely Allison is in the best place to try and discover some proof of that? Scott is sure that she can be trusted. Stiles isn’t willing to risk his freedom on that. Scott agrees that it’s Stiles’s call.

Stiles goes to bed just before midnight. He curls up under his comforter and thinks of all the times he sat in the alley with the dog.

Entropy.

Decay.

He has to act.

At the same time, he’s afraid. Everything is already so precarious that he’s terrified to make any move at all.

He tosses and turns for a while. He maybe dozes.

The basement has windows set high in the walls, at ground-level outside. The moon is a half-moon tonight, but bright enough that faint light filters through the windows. It fills the basement with a gentle glow.

Melissa says that if Stiles is allowed to stay, he can have the room next to Scott’s. But for now he shares the basement with the washing machine and dryer, and a shelf full of old board games, Christmas decorations, and assorted junk. He doesn’t mind that everything smells like fabric softener.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s asleep when the basement door opens, but he seems to jerk awake all the same.

“Stiles?” Scott whispers in the darkness. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Stiles whispers back.

Scott’s footsteps creak down the steps.

Stiles sits up. Scott stands in front of the sofa bed. He’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, and even in the dim light he looks pale and wide-eyed.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks.

“Can you hear that?” Scott shakes his head like a dog after a bath under the hose.

Stiles listens in the silence for a moment. “Hear what?”

Scott wrinkles his nose, and tilts his head. “Howling?”

Stiles listens again. “Dude, I can’t hear anything.”

“It woke me up.” Scott’s breath is coming in short panicked gasps.

Stiles remembers Melissa checking with him before she went to work that he knew where his inhaler was. “Do you need your inhaler?”

“N-no.” The question seems to distract him from his rising anxiety. He sucks in a deep, uninhibited breath. “No, I think I’m okay.” Then his forehead wrinkles. “How am I okay?”

“Lets…let’s go up stairs and get your inhaler, okay?”

Scott nods. “I think there’s something wrong with me. Really wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Stiles tells him.

Scott’s huffs out a laugh that sounds as though it’s bordering hysteria. “I can hear you lying!”

Stiles puts his hand over his fast-thumping heart. “That sounds really impossible, Scott.”

“I know.” Scott drags his fingers through his hair. “I know it does.” He freezes suddenly, and turns to stare up at one of the windows.

Stiles follows his gaze.

A shadow passes in front of the window.

“Did you—” he whispers.

Did you see that?

But the words don’t come.

Because when Stiles turns his head to look at Scott again, Scott’s eyes are glowing gold.

Sleep paralysis.

Imagination.

Frontotemporal dementia.

A nightmare.

Except Stiles knows in the pit of his stomach that whatever is happening now is a hundred times more terrifying than any nightmare, because he knows it’s real.

From outside, a howl tears through the night. It’s loud enough and close enough that Stiles feels the echo of it reverberating through his bones. The sound is big enough to swallow the world, and Stiles knows instinctively that he’s powerless in the face of this, whatever this is.

And then it’s gone again.

The shadow passes in front of the window.

Scott’s eyes are no longer glowing.

“It’s gone,” Scott whispers. “Holy shit. What was that?”

And Stiles stares back at him and thinks: What are you, Scotty?