#like very angry and defensive and hurt and paranoid and stuff and it seems he always needs time and caffeine to help him calm down

[sleebyconfy]

..

[dickwheelie]

This is a little specific so feel free to give it a pass if you're not into it, but would you like to like to do season 2 Lunch Date Era jonmartin with the 'friendly hugs' prompt? Thank you, and have a good day!

specific prompts are actually really nice, they give me something solid to work off of, so this was actually perfect! I had a lot of fun writing this one. thank you and enjoy, anon!

____________

Jon can't stop bouncing his leg.

He keeps forgetting that he's doing it, and then noticing again, and then forcibly stopping himself, but it never lasts long. The cafe is crowded and loud, which is distracting enough on its own, but Martin is also there, sitting across from him and tucking into a sandwich, gamely trying to engage Jon in conversation even though Jon keeps getting distracted and bouncing his leg.

"Jon? You there?"

Martin's voice fades back into Jon's awareness, and he shifts his gaze back to him. "Sorry," he says for the fifth time that lunch hour, "um, say that again?"

He feels bad. He does. Ever since he found out about Martin's CV, Jon's been kicking himself over how paranoid he'd been, thinking that Martin was out to get him, shouting at him over what turned out to be nothing. Jon doesn't want to be that sort of boss, that sort of person, but he'd just been so overwhelmed. He could hardly believe it when Martin asked him to join him for lunch, after all the things Jon's said to him. Still, he's grateful for the olive branch. It's too bad he keeps messing it up by forgetting to listen to Martin when he talks.

Speaking of--

"Oh, damn," Jon mutters, interrupting whatever it is Martin is trying to tell him. "Martin, god, I'm so sorry, I just got--"

"Distracted?" Martin says, and to Jon's surprise he doesn't seem annoyed, just . . . concerned. "I've noticed. Jon, are you feeling alright?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine." Jon eats the last few bites of his salad so he doesn't have to meet Martin's eyes.

"Sure? Because you seem really anxious." Martin's voice has that soft, worried lilt to it that Jon used to get annoyed by. It doesn't bother him so much anymore. It's . . . sort of nice, really, to be worried over, sometimes.

Not now, though. Because right now Jon doesn't need to be worried over. "I'm not anxious. Just . . . it's distracting in here. It's loud."

"Oh, well, let's go then," Martin says, finishing up his sandwich and standing up to gather his coat. "It's not too cold out. We can walk around downtown until lunch hour is over."

"I--" Jon wants to protest, but he realizes that yes, getting out of this small cafe would be very welcome. "That's . . . that's a good idea, actually."

His leg can't bounce when he's walking, and the early winter air is cold but not biting, and the walkways aren't crowded. Jon can feel himself calming down by the time they get a block away from the cafe. Maybe he had been a little anxious, after all. This was a very good idea. Martin has very good ideas, he thinks.

"If that cafe was too much," Martin is telling him, and thankfully Jon is actually able to listen to him now, "there's another place we could try next time. New Indian place, right around the corner from the Institute. Tim says he goes there whenever he has a PT appointment, to treat himself."

Jon wants to go back to the fact that Martin wants there to be a next time, but for now there's something more pressing to address. "Tim's still doing physical therapy?" he says. He'd thought he was finished weeks ago.

"Yeah, he says it's just follow-up appointments. He's mostly okay, they just need to make sure he's improving, I guess." Martin shoots him a sidelong look. "I thought you and he were close."

"Not, um . . . not so much anymore." Jon stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, ducking into his collar. "We don't really . . . talk."

"Oh," Martin says. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Jon doesn't want to get into it. Thankfully, Martin doesn't press the issue.

"Are you still going to PT?" Martin says instead. "You don't have to tell me, obviously. I just . . . I never see you outside the archives anymore."

Jon bites the inside of his cheek. "I, um . . . I sort of . . . stopped going. After the second appointment."

Martin stops short in the middle of the sidewalk, and Jon has to double back. "Christ, Jon!" he says, not angry, but aggravated. "You can't just skip out on that stuff, you could do permanent damage--"

"Martin, I'm fine," Jon says. "See, I'm walking around and everything. Trust me, if it was bad, I'd have kept going, but the whole thing was a waste of time and I had work to get done--"

"Your health comes first," Martin says, with finality, before his demeanor softens. "I'm not an idiot, Jon, I notice you staying late and coming in early, I notice when you skip meals. You're running yourself ragged. It's a job, Jon, and trust me, I know how important this work is, I get it, but none of it, alright, none of it's more important than you."

Jon blinks at him. He wants to protest, but every half-formed rebuttal sounds either defensive or outright silly. Martin is right, after all. Jon just wishes that he weren't, because then he wouldn't have to reevaluate everything he's been doing for the past two months.

Martin goes on, taking a step closer to him. "Just . . . you don't need to keep throwing yourself at a wall, Jon. At least give yourself a break every once in a while."

"I can't just walk away, Martin. O-Or, I don't--" Jon's voice has gone shaky. He clears his throat and tries again. "I--I don't really know how. There's just . . . there's so much, and I don't know where any of it leads, if it's leading anywhere at all, and . . . I just . . . I've no idea what I'm supposed to do about all of it."

Martin gives him a look that Jon doesn't know how to place. It's not pity, or condescension, which Jon would expect from most everyone else. He just looks . . . sort of sad. His hands are clasped in front of his chest, tugging restlessly on his fingers. "Jon, would you . . . um, that is . . ." Suddenly Martin thrusts his open arms out towards Jon and blurts out, "Would you like a hug?"

Jon's speechless. What a thing to be asked, he thinks, and especially by a coworker, no matter how well they know each other, it's completely unprofessional, and even if Martin were his closest friend, which he isn't, but even if he were, why on earth would Jon of all people need a hug? Sure, he's not doing all that great, but Martin doesn't need to know that, and anyway how is a hug supposed to fix anything, especially a hug from someone who doesn't know the half of what Jon's been going through lately, or how scared and confused he's been, or about Jon's very serious problems that are complicated and terrifying and can't be fixed with something as childish and simple as a--

"Yes, please," Jon says, the words coming out in an exhale of pent-up tension, and he all but collapses into Martin's open arms. His face lands just under Martin's chin, half-tucked into his shoulder, and he's just barely able to wrap his arms around Martin's midsection as Martin hugs him back tightly, squeezing him against his chest, and Jon had never known how strong Martin was, how much he had been hiding beneath those soft jumpers of his. His arms, all muscle beneath fat, feel as though they could fight off an army if they really wanted to, and despite his nagging paranoia, Jon can't help but feel utterly protected by them. He feels himself relaxing, bit by bit, sinking into the softness of Martin's chest, letting him hug him closer, just tight enough to be secure without hurting. As he leans into the hug, he doesn't feel any concern about Martin losing his grip or slipping backwards. Martin can take his weight; he knows this. He is as solid and reliable as a wall, and just as stubborn, and he will not drop Jon. Jon lets out a deep sigh, his breaths evening out and slowing, tension seeping from his limbs until he feels entirely relaxed. He feels cared for. He feels safe. It's been so, so long since he's felt safe.

He doesn't even notice that he's closed his eyes until Martin's arms shift around him, and Jon realizes they've been hugging for probably way longer than is normal. His eyes snap open and he backs off, hands sliding away from Martin, clearing his throat awkwardly. He tries not to miss the gentle security of Martin's arms.

"Um," Martin says, sounding like he's about to apologize, but Jon interrupts him.

"Thank you," he says, trying to keep his voice even. "That was--I, um. I needed that." When was the last time he'd hugged someone? Jon can't even remember. "It was really nice," he says quietly. Another one of Martin's brilliant ideas.

Martin nods, looking relieved, and perhaps a little fond, though it may just be Jon's imagination. "Anytime," he says, and Jon thinks he might mean it. He hopes he does. "What are friends for, eh?"

Jon blinks. Are they friends? How long has that been the case? He looks at Martin, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, a small smile on his face, and he thinks that yes, maybe they are friends. It would be nice to be friends, anyway. If Martin says they're friends, Jon won't correct him. "Yeah," he says, and he's very glad to see Martin's face brighten at the word. "I, um," and Jon needs to clear his throat again, "I-I'll try. To have a break once in a while."

"Promise?" Martin says, and Jon can't help but laugh.

"I promise."

Martin nods. "Okay. Good."

"This, today, lunch I mean, this was nice. I'd . . . um. I'd like to do it again."

"Oh! Um, sure. Definitely," Martin says, smiling.

"We can go to that Indian place," Jon says.

"Sure," Martin says. "Tomorrow?" His look is hesitant, but Jon's answer is immediate.

"Yes," he says, letting a smile run over his lips. "Yes, Martin, I'd like that very much."

[moirastuff]

So I saw the angsty Revali x reader turning into links sister being with Sidon for the original Botw timeline. Normally not one for angst cause it ya know makes me sad, but it was a good angst.

So because of that, I wanted to know what hcs you would have for Prince Sidon x Links sister reader? (kinda a continuation,but also it is still kinda just like relationship hcs. Idk how else to explain it). I think it would be really cute cause Sidon is just too damn sweet.

(Revali May be sad, but as you mentioned he still loves her so he’s probably just watching over her and making sure she’s happy. Mipha too probably knowing her brother and one of her best friends are happy. Doesn’t have to include this, but this just seems like how these two would be as they watch over their loved ones. Although, one little mistake from Shark Prince and Miphas spirit would have to hold Revali back from haunting Sidon)

This shouldn't be as funny as it sounds lmao

This is kinda cute and depressing.

I had to investigate about amnesia and how people with it live, because that's exactly how BOTW Link lives, and so (Y/N), with a bit of PTSD, sorry if it's not accurate.

Sorry for taking time on these, I'm starting to think I don't have control over my time management.

I hope you like it ✨

I had no idea how to name this one, I'm so sorry

(Y/N) dealing with amnesia and trauma with Sidon and Revali

I love this GIF....

After you and Sidon starting dating, you felt like something isn't what it should be.

Yes, you're happy with Sidon, Link doesn't mind at all and Sidon is also really happy.

But you felt like there was something missing...

Or someone

You had no idea, every memory you had before waking up was completely gone and even the stuff you get to remember, is easy to see it blurry.

You were even kinda jealous that Link had a way of finding his important memories.

But yours are gone with no clue where to find them, sometimes you have flashback's in random places.

Link and you get really good, he also feels bad for you but you tell him it doesn't matter, you don't really need your memories.

You and Link have a trauma with the guardians, with constant nightmares.

Link doesn't show it a lot but you can get easily scared with even a decayed one.

You sometimes think there's a guardian stalker near or a decayed one is still working, you see them move but there's nothing there.

Sidon is really worried for you two.

He was kinda surprised you weren't afraid of any monsters, not even of the Hinox or Lynels.

You helped each other with the nightmare's, Link doesn't say anything but he sure is scared.

He has to do check all the area where your sleeping in order to be more calmed and you help him.

When you wake up from a nightmare, you can't sleep, the slightest of sounds is going to alarm you.

It's amazing how yo two can do everything even with a very reduced sleeping schedule.

The first time you slept with Sidon was kinda problematic, Sidon didn't knew how you where after a nightmare or even if you sleep well.

You were in his room and falled asleep, it was a long day and you finally got to rest.

When Sidon entered the room he saw you sleeping so he tried to not make too much noise.

But even if he tried to not wake you up, you still wake up in cold sweat.

You grabbed your sword immediately and put yourself in defense position.

Sidon got scared and worried, he asked you if something bad happened or if he made so much noise.

You let go your sword and fall on the bed to start crying.

He immediately hugged you, trying to comfort you.

“Please answer me, I want to know if something happened, did you had an nightmare?”

You told him about your trauma but you where honest, you didn't remember or know how you got it.

All this time you where paranoid of something that you can't remember neither the moment you got that trauma.

You told him about your nightmares, it was imposible for you to sleep completely, you needed have your sword in order to be at least calm.

But the littlest of sounds made you go into fight or fly mode.

Sidon didn't get angry at you, he was really worried.

“I promise to protect you with my life for any kind of danger you fear, even from your nightmares, here in the Zora region is free form guardians and none of them will be able to hurt you anymore, and when you have a nightmare, you can hold to me tight so I can comfort you”

You were so touched that you started crying, he cuddle with you the rest of the night.

Not gonna lie, Revali was ready to haunt Sidon when he made you cry.

Also, he was jelly.

But also worried for you, at least you had someone to comfort you.

But if Sidon mades you cry once again or breaks your heart...

Ganon will be a tiny fairy compared to his gigantic hatred towards Sidon.

Mipha, please stop him.

At this point, Mipha is just holding Revali to come back from the death and beat Sidon's ass.

He doesn't hate him, he's just making sure you are completely happy.

Yes, he knows your relationship ended when he died and it's nothing of his business now.

But that'll never stopped him from loving you to the last day of his existence.

Revali can't do a lot to protect you, but he can try his best.

I think every time you have a nightmare, he's with you, checking on you and trying to make it go away.

He wish you remember him but that's not going to make him come back.

He just wants to talk to you and apologize...

Apologize for not being with you when you need him, apologize for leaving you behind in this cruel world, apologize for not saying goodbye.

But he knows you already have a lot to process and a spirit from the past it's not what you need... And he accepts his fate.

[ziracona]

What do you see happening after Josh is being rescued? Does he meet everyone of his friend eventually or some of them keep their distance? I read one of your answers about them abandoning him and honestly I don't think they didn't care at all about him, but the events were so traumatic and scary that they probably had a hard time taking into consideration that small possibility of him being alive. Plus I guess it's also part of the smooth flow of the game if it makes sense, Mike doesn't go after Jess either after he sees her falling into the mines and accuses Josh of killing her without being 100% sure that she is dead and without seeing Josh around when shit happened to her. But if I were Josh maybe I would be upset knowing they didn't come for me at all. So how would a reunion go?

That’s valid! You can interpret the lack of an interest in rescuing Josh to multiple things—that they are very sure he’s dead, if you want to be as generous as possible to them. That they think he’s probably dead and are afraid of dying too more than willing to save him, that they’re (sans Chris) too mad about the prank he pulled, etc. And I can see why people would go for any number of them. I think to me it has always read like they think he is probably dead, and the whatever he has, 30%, 20% chance? Of still being alive just isn’t enough for them to feel motivated to face very likely death to go hunting for him, especially with flamethrower dude just dead doing the same. Which makes /me/ angry, because Mike went batshit after seeing Jess wounded and dragged through a window and more trying to save her, multiple characters can kill themselves trying to save the others in the finale, etc, and I just think if you /can/ save someone who is your friend—or like, you have a shot anyway—you don’t know it is too late. You should. (& true Jess can still be alive and Mike will assume she is dead, but in his defense, so do basically all blind playthroughs she looks like she falls four stories or something while already almost dead I can’t fault Mike for assuming that was a 100% death there. Boy really tried. Whereas Josh’s vanishing from the shed is much less confirmed. There is no ‘I watched him fall’ here. Just a neither he nor his dead body were still in the shed so /something/ happened). Like I do get it, that’s a terrifying situation and not helping doesn’t = not caring, but I will hold it against characters if they don’t risk themselves to save their friends and I will be unhappy with them. Loyalty is very important to me. But it is a truly terrifying situation.

But I also get why they’d be terrified to go out there. I don’t think it makes them evil to not want to risk it till they have to, it just makes me disappointed in them. I don’t think I said I think they didn’t care about him—typo if I did, because I certainly don’t think that at all! I think Chris was traumatized and felt very sure he was dead, Ashley didn’t care (she explicitly says she thinks he deserves it and tries to stop Chris from saving him the first time), Emily doesn’t care a lot one way or another and is mostly on her own trauma right now and thinking about Matt and the awful shit she saw, that Sam does care but thinks he is probably dead and is in team mom mode and cares more about trying to keep as many friends alive as possible right now than anything else and doesn’t want to lose the others, and Mike is still pissed but also feels very bad and would prefer for Josh to make it but is also more focused on group survival and not losing anyone else since he just lost someone he loves horribly (based largely on how his reaction to the safe room scenario is either to kill Emily and feel awful but do it because he very vocally and visibly doesn’t want the others to be killed and she won’t go peacefully, and he’s terrified of losing them, or to try but not be able to because he loves Emily, and instead give the gun to the others to try to save themselves with in the event she /does/ turn). And although he’s a right coward bastard for leaving Josh if Josh gets grabbed instead of killed, down in the mines, I do think he cared about Josh. He seems truly sorry to some extent when he finds him, and does /try/ to lead him out of the mines. At the point they make the decision to go for the cable car key, I don’t think they don’t care at all, except Ashley. I just think they should care more. Although I tend to give Chris a pass because he just watched a man get beheaded, has strong reason to think Josh is dead, is injured, and spends the entire rest of the game more or less in traumatized mode quiet in the corner.

But that said I can also see why people would interpret the reactions to mean they all believe he is very dead, and mean they’re going after his corpse! I can see lots of basis in-game to interpret in quite a number of ways. And be generous to the fool kids if you want to! I /super/ hold abandoning Josh in the mines wildly against Mike, but Mike is still one of my favorite characters in the whole game. I love how flawed the cast is and that you go in hating most of them and only slowly grow to care because you don’t want them dead-dead, which keeps you there long enough to see some of their good sides. *cheff’s kiss* the great ability of the horror genre. The bar to initially invest is so low, it lets you have such a multi-faceted cast.

Okay anyway, original question! What do I see happening after Josh gets rescued and exorcised.

I think he meets up with all of them again eventually. Interesting to think from Josh’s pov how he’s going to feel. I expect to some degree he does feel abandoned, and fairly, and in RoB it is very clear he is afraid to some extent of Mike and Chris after being dragged off and tied up and left in the shed, and the things they said to him. He also /definitely/ feels massively guilty and self-blaming about all of it. He’s telling himself through Hill that no one will come for him and it’s his own fault by the final chapter. And mostly he’s just afraid of Mike and in ptsd dissociating mode by the time Sam and Mike find him. So, mixed feelings on his part I expect. Lots of fear and pain and hurt at being abandoned and so universally believed capable of murder, hurt, left to die alone in the mines. Pretty damn betrayed, and that on top of the hurt from what happened to his sisters and the inherent paranoia of paranoid schizophrenia. Hurt that they just left him. Hurt they didn’t believe him. Hurt nobody came for him until it was too late. Hurt he got betrayed again. Probably pretty miserable overall. But with that, also feels really bad about going too far and hates and blames himself intensely for everything, and I expect is also kind of not just traumatized but ashamed of what happens to him, and everyone knowing about the possession and the cannibalism. Probably he wants to lock himself in a room in the corner of a big house and never come out. But also is intensely and miserably and hopelessly lonely. Probably feels all of his friendships are likely broken beyond repair.

I don’t think they are though. Chris “I’m not your bro” six seconds later “bro are you for real?” Hartley almost dies trying to save him and wouldn’t care about the possession stuff except to be worried about him. Sam is angry and harboring some resentment, but clearly reacts to Mike reporting he is gone with regret. Mike would probably feel very guilty for leaving him and be hesitant to reconnect and then defensive doing it, but I think he cares. Jess wasn’t even there for this shit so probably she does. Same for Matt maybe? Ashley and Emily are harder to guess for. I think Ashley would be incredibly angry and resentful—I mean she wants him dead in-game, but might eventually join the others if the others got over stuff? Bc she’s also kinda a joiner? Really it’s hard to say she is a very...hair-trigger character. Volatile and intensely and massively changeable. Probably the least predictable of all. That kind of person scares me deeply in real life because I have been very backstabbed by them before. >.> But anyway hard to say. Also a lot of this depends on what ending, even assuming they all live. But I usually assume that like, Mike almost shot Em, didn’t, Matt tried to save her, Sam saw the workshop, etc ending. Emily I really don’t know. She’s a very self-reliant and hard person. She didn’t have anything very specifically for or against Josh with her experience, but wasn’t that close to him before, so I think she just kinda falls wherever she falls.

I think mostly though that they’d reconnect. Definitely Chris would jump to it, and I think Sam would too—she’s a well educated, empathetic and understanding person. She’d know he needs her. And Chris is his childhood best friend and cares the whole game. I think Mike would try to go too because of guilt, and because he’s a decent guy. Probably so would after not much time those least effected by what Josh did. I think Josh would be alone while being exorcised and probably reocvering in a hospital some after, and Chris would be the first, or Chris and Sam possibly. I think he’d be afraid to see them, and it would be complicated and messy and painful for them all, but it would be okay and sort itself out and they’d find old ground quickly. And having them there would be /incredibly/ vital to helping him recover. I think eventually he’d get back on his feet, and a lot of his old friends would be around and stay in his life. I think things would get better. I’d say the OG ExorJosh comic writer I think did a good job of guessing about what a lot of it would be like. Hard, and slow, and messy. But a lot of them care for him, and I think that would matter enough to help things get okay between them again.

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.IV: Danced of the Damned

pairing(s):  Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre:  Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, hints of traumatic experiences, blood, etc. 

word count: 5k

synopsis:  How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

You don’t know exactly what you were expecting to find in the archives of the Town Hall. Maybe a couple old files holding the ancestral information of Moon Dye or a couple ancient photographs where the faces are too blurred and rotted to recognize. Even the finding of a mere rusted pocket watch would have crossed your mind—not a thick registry stuffed full of unthinkable truths. 

In your defense, you just happened to stumble upon the records in the dank, dusty basement where the town’s archives stay. It was hidden in a secret compartment behind chalky boxes of cold cases that were forgotten a long, long time ago—how else were you to satiate your curiosity? Inside the mess of cobwebs and dust, there sat the information that would both make and break your sanity. 

And maybe if Jaebeom hadn’t approached you in that alleyway and confirmed your suspicions… your mind would have been able to come up with some sort of rationalization. 

“Look, I wanted to tell you so many times…” You can’t bring yourself to meet Mark’s gaze, finding more interest in swirling the contents of your untouched tea. Through the corner of your eye, however, you can see your companion feverishly shaking his head, “But knowing about me would put you in danger, (Y/N)... I couldn’t do that to you.” 

“That wasn’t your choice to make, Mark.” 

“I know that, but—fucking hell.” Mark buries his face in his palms, still rocking back and forth, “It shouldn’t be like this… God, I never wanted this—” 

“And you think I did?” You hiss, uncaring about the pure venom in your tone. “How the fuck am I supposed to process all of this? That vampires and werewolves and witches and probably goddamn pixies exist? That my best friend has magical powers and talks to the dead?” 

“I don’t—” Mark timidly shrugs, “talk to the dead…” 

“Well, at least there’s that much.” A heavy sigh passes from your lips, expelling barely any tension from your aching chest. You toy with the handle of your teacup before finally gathering the willpower to meet Mark’s eyes. His irises are wild and filled with all kinds of emotion, you immediately notice. Probably a mere reflection of your own. 

As much as you want to stay angry at your best friend—you physically can’t. No matter how many times your head and your heart go back and forth. Mark lied to you. Mark has been lying to you all this time. But something inside of you won’t let your eyes see past the genuine remorse and hurt written along his face. 

He’s still your best friend. 

Mark sighs, “What do you want me to do, (Y/N)?...” 

“I want you to tell me the truth—the whole truth.”

“I can’t do that,—” 

“I at least deserve that much, don’t you think?” Mark withers beneath your murmur, dragging a hand down his face with a frustrated breath. After another moment of silence that seems to stretch on for hours, Mark grabs a nearby bottle of bourbon, pours himself a glass and finally nods. 

“If I tell you everything, there’s no going back… Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Not really, but I don’t have that choice anymore.” You hum. “I need to know.” 

Mark nods again. “Where do you want me to start?” 

“At the very beginning.” 

The way Mark throws back the alcohol sparks uneasiness in your gut, but not as much as the gloomy darkness that overtakes his gruff tone. 

“The main story begins with the first ever vampires that came into existence, known as the Prime Two…” Mark moves to pour himself another drink, but changes his mind and ends up drinking straight from the bottle. You wonder whether you should ask for a sip as well. 

“But you know them already… as Im Jaebeom and Park Jinyoung.” 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

Youngjae releases a content breath as he steps into the warmth of the bookstore, effectively escaping the post-rain chill of the outside. He shakes the remaining coolness from his hands before heading toward the front counter, where Bambam is stationed flipping through a high-end fashion magazine. Youngjae fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Bam?” 

Bambam looks up at Youngjae’s voice. “Hey, man. What’s going on?” 

“I need your help.” Youngjae surveys the area of the store, checking down aisles and around corners for any signs of life. The racing of his heart somewhat slows at the lack of other customers, allowing him to turn back to the cashier and continue, “The coven is in danger. Nayeon-noona is dead.” 

“I heard about that. I’m so sorry, hyung.” Bambam nods his head, “What can I do?”

“Are you able to see an account of everyone who steps foot in this town? Visitors included?” 

“Yeah, I know some guys who can get whatever information you need. You feel like taking a trip up to the police station?” 

Youngjae hums in response, waiting patiently for Bambam to lock up the register. He watches the younger throw on his coat before meeting him behind the counter. With Bambam in tow, Youngjae leaves the comfort of the shop. After Bambam locks the door, the two continue through the cold in the direction of the police station. Youngjae again checks his surroundings, feeling more than just the chill of the air. 

“Did you… find what killed her?” 

“What?” 

Bambam repeats again a little louder. “Nayeon. Do you know what killed her?” 

“A hunter and another witch.” Youngjae explains, “We have records of them murdering countless covens before coming to Moon Dye.” 

“I may not know everything about this supernatural stuff, but don’t hunters hunt vampires...?”

“We’re not sure why either of them are specifically targeting witches.” Youngjae shudders, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. “I just hope we can find them before…” 

“Hey.” Bambam halts Youngjae’s pace with a hand on his arm. “We’re gonna find these douchebags and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.” 

Youngjae weakly smiles. “Thanks, Bam.” 

“C’mon. I’m freezing my ass off.” Youngjae follows Bambam’s wishes and continues down the street, feeling less and less paranoid knowing the younger is by his side. Instead, Youngjae’s mind thinks back to your sudden entrance only mere minutes ago.

Youngjae wanted to stay at the mausoleum and help Mark deescalate the situation, but the older insisted that he continue the search. He can’t help but remember the betrayal across your features—the way you looked at him and Mark as if they were aliens. 

“Why did you give (Y/N) Mayor Bhuwakul’s old diary?” The question escapes Youngjae’s lips before he can stop himself. His inquiry visibly takes Bambam off guard, manifesting in the form of confusion along his features, before shifting to realization. 

“Because she deserves to know.” 

“But what about Mark-hyung? You know what this will do to him, right? To him and (Y/N)?” 

Bambam shakes his head. “I know Mark cares about (Y/N), and (Y/N) cares about Mark.” He peers at Youngjae through the corner of his eye and shrugs, “That’s not gonna change just because she knows the truth, hyung. I doubt that will ever change.” 

Youngjae doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes trained on the moving pavements at his feet. He knows Bambam is right, and knows both Mark and (Y/N), but something in his gut doesn’t feel right—like a sense that something is coming. 

Something bad… Something really, really bad. 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“So you’re telling me that not only are there vampires almost a thousand years old running around without a care in the world, but you’re also the leader of the town witch coven who protects Moon Dye from supernatural threats?” Mark nods at your recount, holding back a smile at the cute furrow in your eyebrows. “You realize how absolutely unreal that sounds? Right?” 

“You said you wanted the truth.” 

“I’m only slightly regretting that decision now.” You sigh, smoothing a hand over your scalp. Mark notices a stray hair fall across your forehead at your movement. He’s not sure whether it’s the light buzz radiating throughout his veins or the way your eyes seem to glitter in the sunlight, but his mind has to warn his hands to remain glued to the table. Still, Mark can’t help but feel disappointed as you brush the strand away. 

You shrug your shoulders, “How… How do you do it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like…” Mark carefully watches your expression, noticing the slight tremor in your tone as you trail on. “How do you… do magic…?” 

“Well, there’s a bunch of ways.” He explains, “Spells. Potions. Channeling objects. Control of the elements. Some witches can even see events from the past, present or future.” 

“So you don’t wave around wands and ride on broomsticks?” 

The first genuine laugh leaves Mark’s lips for the first time tonight. “No. Though Youngjae did try to enchant his car to fly one time.” 

“Where does it come from? The magic?” 

“It’s dependent on the witch, and the type of craft they practice.” 

Not desiring to scare you off, Mark chooses to show a more modest example. He focuses his attention onto your cup, still full of now cold tea, and murmurs a quick incantation beneath his breath. Your entire body flinches as the glass lifts at least six inches off the table, enough to hover at the level of your eyes. After a couple seconds, Mark lowers the cup back into its original place. When he meets your gaze, he expects to see fear embedded beneath your irises, but it’s the opposite: 

You seem fascinated. 

“I usually practice Traditional Magic, so I use the Earth and other natural elements to amplify my magic.” Mark says, “Most witches are born with their own powers, but that’s not always the case. 

“Youngjae—take him as an example—is a Siphoner. In order to generate magic, he has to absorb it from other things, be it objects or people.” 

“So he… siphons magic?” 

Mark smiles. “Exactly. You’re catching on pretty quick.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” You shake your head, curiously peering down at the stationary teacup before returning your attention back to Mark. “When I read through that book in the archives, I saw something about Lycanthropes… Does that mean what I think it means?” 

“Werewolves.” He states matter of factly.

“They exist too then?” 

“You remember Kim Yugyeom? Bambam’s best friend?” 

You nod. 

Mark nods too. “He’s the second in command of Moon Dye’s pack. I don’t think you’ve met the new Alpha, Bang Chan.” 

“I’ve heard the name from some of my kids.” Mark can practically feel the exhaustion from your sigh. He debates the idea of reaching across the table to take your hand in his—the loneliness of your fingers spurring him on even more. Before Mark can make up his mind, you’re already withdrawing your limbs and hiding them in the comforts of your lap. 

“I just—I’m just having a hard time processing all of this.” 

Mark shakes his head, “It’s a lot to take in, (Y/N).”

“I know, but—” You pause to lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in his direction with the beginnings of a scowl overtaking your lips. “I’m still pissed that you kept this whole other world a secret from me. I mean, for fucksakes, Mark, you’re my best friend.” 

“I’m—I was protecting you. Knowing this stuff exists doesn’t come without consequence, (Y/N).” 

“Stop saying that, oh my god—” Mark waits as you bury your face in your palms, deeply breathing through the divots of your laced fingers. After maybe a minute of silence, you raise your head and murmur, “What is it about me knowing that puts me in danger? I was nearly killed by that vampire without knowing shit.” 

A wince overtakes Mark’s features. “It’s complicated…” 

“I’m so sick of everyone using that excuse.” You hiss, “You don’t keep something like this from me, especially the fact that you’re—” 

“Do you know how Nayeon died?” Mark can see how his sudden question takes you off guard by the widening of your eyes and pursing of your lips. You take a few moments to collect yourself, right your expression, before answering: 

“She was… killed by an animal.” 

Mark shakes his head again. “No. Nayeon was murdered by a supernatural vampire hunter and another witch.” 

You blink. “B-But… was she a—?” 

“She was a witch—an innocent witch that never provoked, nor hurt anyone.” Mark leans forward until the edge of the table presses harshly against his ribs. The uncomfort does little to garner his attention—too focused on speaking to you with his desperate eyes. “This world—my world is dark, (Y/N). The creatures in my world are even darker, including me.” 

He pretends not to catch the brief wave of unease that washes over your face. 

“Right now, there are two fucking crazies in town out to kill me and my people.” Mark gulps at the stone long formed at the back of his throat. “If I lose anyone else, I—” Unable to finish his sentence, Mark shifts his focus. “I just need you to understand, (Y/N). Please.” 

“Mark—” Tremors shoot through his veins as your fingers latch around his wrist—the warmth of your touch sobering the last remnants of his mind. He has to hold back tears at the pure sympathy that resonates from your bright irises. “I understand, okay?” 

He nods, not trusting the quality of his voice. 

You softly squeeze his arm. “No more secrets though… Promise me.” 

“(Y/N)—” 

“Promise me.”   

Mark knows he shouldn’t, but the way you’re looking at him—so calm, yet so determined—the way you always look at him… He can’t do anything but give in. 

“I promise.” He murmurs, placing a hand over your own with a weak smile. “No more secrets.” 

You nod approvingly, offering up a smile of your own. Your lips part again, as if to ask another question, when a knock sounds from the door. Mark almost verbally protests when you pull away, but holds back his annoyance to answer the unexpected visitor with a silent sigh. However, he can’t hold back his scowl at the sight of Jinyoung on his doorstep. 

“Mark. It’s good to see you.” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I apologize for my sudden visit, but I needed to talk to you about—” Jinyoung’s voice trails off, which Mark quickly realizes is because of your known presence. He watches, with narrowed eyes, as you and Jinyoung exchange an array of glances before he turns back to Mark. 

He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll come back—” 

“She knows.” An uneasy feeling erupts in Mark’s gut at the weak expression that crosses over Jinyoung’s face. He doesn’t like how Jinyoung looks at you again, nor the blank stare you offer the vampire in response. 

Jinyoung nods. “I see…” 

“What did you—?” Mark’s phone rings before he can finish his question, temporarily relieving him from the atmosphere of awkwardness and irritation. He steps aside to allow Jinyoung the space to enter while pulling his phone from his pocket. His eyes remain fixated on the interaction between both you and Jinyoung as he answers the call, lifting the device up to his ear. 

“Please tell me you and Bam found something.” 

“It’s not much, but we at least found a lead.” Mark breathes a sigh of relief at Youngjae’s answer. As to include both you and Jinyoung into the conversation, he turns Youngjae on speaker phone, avoiding the curious glint in your gaze.  

“There’s no record in the police database of any suspicious visitors entering town within the last few months, so we’re sure they probably got into Moon Dye undetected, or at least not on city file.” 

“How does that help us?” 

“You need to let me finish, hyung.” Mark can practically hear Youngjae roll his eyes over the line. “We may not have records, but some of Bam’s friends were able to look into the cameras stationed around the border of the road that leads into town. They caught footage of a bus dropping off two young women, who were then picked up by a 2018 BMW M6. We tried to track the license plate number, but the registration is private.” 

Jinyoung murmurs with a nod, “So someone who lives here in town brought them in. It’s possible we may be dealing with more than just a hunter and a witch.” 

“I don’t think so.” Youngjae disagrees, “The tracking spell would have picked up on every accomplice involved in Nayeon-noona’s murder.” 

Mark feels sick at the slight grimace that pulls across your features. He knows you're playing strong by the way you quickly mask your discomfort. 

“Anyway, we were only able to track the vehicle as far as Poison Square. But we do have the faces of the two young women that got off of the bus.” 

“That’s something then.” Mark sighs, sharing a wary glance with Jinyoung. “What do they look like?” 

“Both are probably somewhere in their early- to mid-twenties, have dyed blonde hair and are relatively around the same height.” 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “That could be anyone. Can you be more specific?” 

“The one woman has three distinguishing beauty marks: One on the bridge of her nose, another above her upper lips, and a third near the corner of her mouth.” 

“Shouldn’t the hunter have something on them? Like a mark?” 

“We wouldn’t be able to see the hunter’s mark.” Jinyoung shuts down Mark’s inquiry with a frown, “It’s only visible to other hun—” 

“This mark… Is it a tattoo, by any chance?...” Mark nearly flinches at your sudden question—Jinyoung almost doing the same. The latter resurrects from the surprise before releasing a hesitant answer: 

“Well, I’ve never seen it myself, but… yes.” 

“Oh my fucking god…” The pure shock that overtakes your face sends warning bells chiming through Mark’s mind. He sets the phone on the table before dropping to his knees in front of your sitting form, immediately noticing the trembling of your hands. Worst case scenarios play through his thoughts like creepy puppet shows, but he pushes them away to focus on you. 

“What is it?” 

When you meet his gaze, your eyes are wild with a blend of shock  and fright. Mark feels even sicker than before, and not because of the alcohol. 

You gulp. Not once. But twice. 

“I… I know who Nayeon’s killers are.” 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Please, just let me go…” Jihyo sobs, hot tears beginning to spill down her burning cheeks. The rope around her wrists chafes uncomfortably at her skin, eating away at what little dignity remains in her heart. “I really don’t understand what you want from me…” 

Momo releases a huff—the sight and sound mirroring a dragon blowing smoke through his nostrils. Jihyo watches through terrified eyes as Momo paces across the living room floor, feverishly shaking her head and mumbling incoherencies underneath her breath. The fear continues to grow when Momo stomps to where Jihyo is frozen stiff on the sofa. 

“How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself?” Momo growls, shoving her tattooed arm in Jihyo’s face. “You see this mark, then you’re a hunter. It’s not rocket science.” 

Jihyo weakly shakes her head. “You’re sick, Momo… Th-This whole thing about vampires and witches and hunters doesn’t exist…” 

It’s a lie—Jihyo knows in her heart that a part of her, a very stupid part of her, believes every little detail that has left Momo’s lips. Some of it makes too much sense not to be true: The sudden animal attacks. The mysterious disappearances. The unexplained instances she’s had ever since she moved to Moon Dye Bay. 

“I told you that—”  

Momo’s voice cuts out at the sound of a slamming door. For a moment, hope swirls through Jihyo’s gut, thinking that either Sana or (Y/N) must have come to her rescue, but the burst vanishes at the sight of Mina stepping into view—Jihyo’s fear instead skyrockets. 

Momo said she’s a witch. 

“What is going on here?” Mina demands, her tone stern and expression cold. Momo only smiles in response. 

“Sister!” She skips over to the newcomer, delicately taking Mina’s hands into her own. The act actually surprises Jihyo, not expecting the supposed, rather sadistic hunter to be capable of such affection. “Jihyo can see my mark! She’s a hunter just like me, sister!” 

Mina immediately tears her hands away, glaring at her sister with such bewilderment and venom. “Are you out of your damn mind!?” 

“Wh-What do you mean?” 

“Jihyo cannot be involved in any of this!” Goosebumps rise over Jihyo’s skin at the hidden darkness beneath Mina’s words. Her eyes glance toward the hallway, wondering the success rate of being able to reach the front door without alerting either sister. “Do you not remember what happened last time you tried to train another hunter?” 

“Things will be different this time. I am stronger now—we are stronger.” “You don’t know that for sure.” 

“Think of how easy it will be to take out the rest of Tuan’s coven with another hunter on our side, sister.” Momo persists, striking more panic through Jihyo’s already stocked body. Against her better judgement, Jihyo tries to escape her rope bindings… and unsurprisingly, fails. 

Mina shakes her head furiously. “Tuan and his witches have sided with one of The Prime brothers. We can’t risk killing another member without putting our own lives in danger—”

“All the more reason to take on another hunter.” Jihyo shrinks in on herself as Momo grabs Mina’s hand and leads her to her prisoner on the couch. “Please, sister. Think about what those witches did to us—about mother and father.” 

Silence, save for the hum of rushing blood in Jihyo’s ears, hangs in the air, thick like a pool of humid fog. Like Momo, Jihyo carefully watches Mina’s expression, searching for any features that may determine the underlyings of her fate. 

“So many lives we’ve already taken for mother and father.” Mina pulls her hand free from Momo’s and shakes her head. The rope seems to dig harder into her wrists—as does the terror in her chest when Mina murmurs her next words: 

“When will it ever be enough for you, sister?…” Jihyo’s gaze remains transfixed on Mina as she makes her way back through the kitchen, pausing to offer the bound woman an apologetic glance. “I’m so sorry you were brought into this… but I’m even more sorry that you’ll have to die because of it…” 

Whatever remaining hope inside Jihyo snaps as Mina throws her one last pitiful smile before rushing out the apartment—leaving Jihyo to the mercy of her deranged sister. 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung closely watches how your fingers seem to cling to Mark’s hands as you think over your words, almost as if his mere touch is enough to keep your mind grounded. And though he’d never admit it aloud… Jinyoung feels envy that Mark is the one who’s comforting you. 

“Mina and Momo are friends of Sana from when they were in high school.” You explain, peering between both Mark and Jinyoung’s curious expressions. Though Jinyoung notices how your gaze seems to avoid his seeking eyes. “I don’t know anything about them beside the fact they’re foster sisters, and they had a pretty shitty time in the system.” 

“Then how are you so sure it’s them?” Youngjae inquires, still over the phone. “And how did you know about the hunter’s mark?” 

You pause, and based on your expression, Jinyoung would guess you’re almost reluctant to answer his questions. He moves to soothe your uneasiness, but Mark beats him to it: 

“We have to know, (Y/N)... It’s important.” 

Jinyoung’s jealousy expands at the intimate glance you and Mark share. 

After another moment of quiet and a heavy sigh, you finally speak, “The other day, I heard Jihyo comment on a tattoo that Momo had—but there was no tattoo. Neither Sana nor I saw one, so I just thought Jihyo was imagining things until…” 

“Until now.” Jinyoung finishes. He inhales an unsteady gust of air, carding his fingers through his styled hair, and shakes his head with a solemn expression, “(Y/N)... For Jihyo to be able to see Momo’s hunter mark would mean she’s a—”

“We have to warn the others.” Mark interrupts Jinyoung, suddenly rising to his feet. “Youngjae, give a call to Lia, Jisung and Minho and tell them to get their asses over here as soon as possible.” 

“Already done, hyung. I couldn’t reach Minho, but I left several voicemails and dozens of texts.” 

“I’ll start on that linking spell we talked about. This ends tonight.” Mark lifts his phone from the tabletop, readying his thumb to tap the end call button. “Get here safe, okay?” 

Youngjae hums. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe ten.” 

“See you soon, Youngjae.” No sooner had Mark ended the call does your voice sound: 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? ‘This ends tonight’?” 

Mark shakes his head. “(Y/N)—” 

“No. I want to know what that means.” You abruptly rise, sending your chair sliding across the wood floor with a shriek. Jinyoung waits for Mark to come up with an answer, secretly enjoying the obvious discomfort amongst his features, before answering himself after maybe a minute of radio silence: 

Jinyoung places a hand on your shoulder. “It means we do what we have to do to keep everyone safe. Including you and the town.” 

“But you won’t… kill them? Right? I mean, there’s-there’s other ways that don’t have to end with anyone dead, right…?”

“I don’t know.” Jinyoung murmurs honestly, “If they’re willing to talk, then maybe. But if it comes down to it—” 

“Please, don’t…” His heart practically breaks at the shakiness of your tone. “Just—do anything you have to, but don’t kill them…” 

Mark raises an eyebrow with a scowl, “They’ve killed dozens of innocent people, (Y/N). If anything, they deserve to die.” 

“Maybe…” You shake your head. “But killing them would make you no better than them.” 

Jinyoung feels as if you just punched him in the gut with your words. He has to let go of your shoulder to reach back and support his weight against the table, suddenly dizzy and light-headed.

“We’ll…” Mark sighs, “We’ll try our best, okay?” 

You nod before wiping your palms against the side of your jeans. 

As you and Mark engage in another round of small talk, Jinyoung tries to settle the nauseous feeling in his gut and focus on anything other than the fragrant waft of your scent. He knows he would never hurt you—his self control is too grand to allow anything like that—but the lack of human blood is beginning to affect him again. For the worse. 

Usually Jinyoung is able to hold his own with only a couple droplets of animal blood every few days or so. However, his strength and other abilities have long depleted since he began this strict diet, and while he may not be anywhere near desiccation—Jinyoung is certainly hungry. And weak. Very, very weak. 

He just hopes he will be able to withstand the upcoming battle. 

“But I want to help!” 

“And the answer is no fucking way. Absolutely not.” Jinyoung returns to reality just in time to see Mark shake his head indignantly toward your seething figure. Since then, he notices the two of you have moved to a nearby lectern, where Mark is currently flipping through a large grimoire.

“I can help, I mean—Mina and Momo know me and I swear I can—” 

“It’s not fucking happening.” Mark growls, slamming the book shut and leering down at you with a sneer. Jinyoung catches how your face doesn’t falter in the slightest at his angered expression. 

With a single finger, you poke Mark’s chest. “I’m not just going to sit back and watch while you and your damn wizard gang go and play hocus pocus with a pair of killers.” 

“It’s too dangerous—!” 

“Do I look like I fucking care!? Didn’t think so!” 

Jinyoung steps in, making sure to keep his tone calm so as to not infuriate you anymore. “Mark is right, (Y/N). I’m sorry—but you’d only be a liability for us to keep track of.” 

Your expression hardens. “A liability—? Are you serious?” 

Mark doesn’t spare a second glance in your direction and instead turns to Jinyoung. He points toward the countertop behind the vampire, “Can you grab the bowl that’s there? The one from yesterday’s ritual?” 

“So that’s it then?” Jinyoung  grabs the silver bowl filled with dried blood and the charm bracelet as you continue to rant, and hands it to Mark. The witch immediately dips two fingers into the crimson liquid, closes his eyes and begins to murmur a hushed incantation. 

You shove at his shoulder. “Mark? Are you kidding me?” 

“(Y/N), please—” Jinyoung steers you away from the witch, forcing himself to keep strong underneath your icy stare. “It’s for your own good…” 

With a clenched jaw and sparkling eyes, you shake your head. For a moment, Jinyoung hopes you’ll simply turn on your heel and leave the tense atmosphere of the mausoleum, but as always—you surprise him. 

“You know, I let your and Mark’s lying about everything slide because I wanted to move past it—for a fresh start.” You lean closer until Jinyoung can practically taste your minty breath on the tip of his tongue. “But you two are still treating me like some sort of princess that needs to be protected.

“And you know what, Jinyoung?” Your hiss strikes something deep inside Jinyoung’s soul—something even he can’t place. “I’m no princess. And I don’t need to be protected. You’ll do best to get that shit through your head.” 

Neither Jinyoung nor Mark try to stop you as you stomp out the door. 

Jinyoung bites his lip before turning to Mark. “Are we… doing the right thing?” 

“I don’t know.” Mark replies, and for once, Jinyoung can relate to the lost tinge in his tone. 

“I really don’t fucking know.” 

[thefloorisbalaclava]

All That Really Belongs to Us Is Time - Chapter 1 - Arthur Morgan x Belle Kennedy

A/N: I’ve been so nervous about posting this, but it’s finally happening! I hope someone out there enjoys it! Just a little warning: this will be a very slow burn. There will be little moments here and there, but those moments will leave you wanting. Trust me, I’m angry with myself. I want them together more than anything, but I’m waiting for the perfect time.

Okay, enough blabbing. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Belle stared out the window, wondering why she ever agreed to stay late and help set up this new exhibit. She was excited about it, but she was tired and just wanted to be in bed.

“Belle, snap out of it. We need your help here.” The curator snapped his fingers and Belle jolted out of her daze. She reached for an item but he stopped her. “Gloves, please. You know better.”

“Yes, sir.” She rolled her eyes and put on her white cloth gloves. “Where's this stuff from anyway?” she asked.

“This stuff is from the Wild West. Well, from the end of an era as we knew it. 1899” He handed her a few things and she was fascinated already. She dug through the boxes, picking up pistols and photographs, some of which had writing on the back. Her boss cleared his throat and she looked at him. “It's not for you to just stare at, Miss Kennedy. Get on with it.”

“You're telling me that none of this interests you? It's from so long ago but not that long ago, you know?” At the bottom of one of the boxes was a journal that was in pretty good shape to be from 1899. The leather was a bit worn and the pages were yellowed, but it wasn't falling apart or anything. She was about to open it when the curator called her name again. “What?”

“Put this over there.” He nodded to a spot near the window and she did as she was told, her eyes constantly going back to that journal.

“Do we know who this journal belonged to?”

“I don't think it matters. What matters is that you put it where it belongs before tomorrow.” She loved her job but her boss could be a dick sometimes.

“You're no fun.” She picked up the journal and placed it on a table with a few other items. Her boss stepped out and looked at the things from outside the window, how guests would be looking at them, and gave her a thumbs up.

“I guess you can go home now,” he said as he walked back into the space. “I know I am. Goodnight. Don't forget to lock up.” He walked out, leaving her alone...with that journal. She couldn't understand why it seemed to call to her. Her curiosity eventually got the best of her and she picked the book up, opening it carefully.

“Hey, Belle, what you got there?” She jumped at the sound of her coworkers voice, putting the book down quickly. “Did that come in with all the rest of this stuff?” he asked.

“Yeah, doesn't look like it though, does it?” She removed the gloves then went to leave the area, looking back at the journal. Her coworker moved in front of it and picked it up. “You gonna read it?”

“I want to but...wouldn't that feel like invading someone's privacy?”

“Whoever that belongs to has been dead for over a hundred years now…” Her friends face changed and she squinted. “What is it?”

“Did you have any ancestors that may have ran with a gang in the Wild West?” he asked, eyeing her strangely then looking back at the pages.

“What? How would I know? Why are you asking?” She walked over to him, her interest piqued.

“Because…” He turned the book so she could see what he was looking at. “...you have quite the doppelganger.” Belle almost reached out to take the book but remembered she wasn't wearing gloves. The likeness was uncanny. It was like she was staring at herself. “This A.M. fella seemed to really be taken with a woman who looked just like you.”

“That's…” She couldn't find the words for it but suddenly she felt flushed and as if the room was spinning. “I need to sit.” She stumbled out of the exhibit and her coworker followed closely.

“I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I'm not overwhelmed. It's just...it's been a long day,” she lied. The longer she had looked at that journal, the stranger she had felt but she wouldn't mention that to him. It was more than just seeing someone who looked just like her--it was something else, something deeper.

“You still with me?” He waved in front of her face and she blinked a few times then smiled. “Thought I lost you there.”

“Nope. I'm still here. Not going anywhere. I can't or our boss would lose his mind.” They both laughed then he helped her to her feet. “I'm gonna head home.” But not before getting that journal she thought to herself.

She reassured her coworker that she was fine at least ten times before he finally let her go. Before leaving, she used her key to get back into the exhibit. She looked around before slipping her gloves back on and picking up the book. She put it into a protective carrier and slipped it into her bag. It felt good being bad sometimes. No one would miss it since she would be in before anyone else to get things ready for the big reveal.

----------

The entire way home, Belle couldn't keep her eyes from wandering to her bag sitting on the passenger seat. It was calling to her. She couldn't understand why. Maybe it had something to do with the sketches of the women who looked like her…

No.

She pulled into her parking spot and ran up the stairs to her small flat. She threw her other things on the floor but carried her bag carefully to her room and set it on her bed. Without the gloves, she opened the bag and took out the protective carrier. She opened it and let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. The journal was really here...in her home.

“Gloves,” she whispered, grabbing the gloves and removing the journal carefully, immediately opening it to the pages of sketches. As she flipped the pages, she didn't notice the dried flower that fell to the floor. She touched the sketches lightly and smiled. “Who are you?”

Belle got lost in the pages of this journal. Whoever A.M. was had an amazing story to tell and she was only getting a small piece of it. She had wondered what happened to him and why the last few pages seemed to be written by someone else. There was a connection there but she was too tired to figure it out now.

She placed the book back into the carries then removed the gloves. Standing from her bed, she looked down and spotted the dried flower. “Where did you come from?” As she bent to pick it up, she heard an eerie sound and looked behind her. Nothing. She was being paranoid. There was a rush a freezing air that rushed past her as she touched the flower but before she could react there was nothing but dark.

Cold. Freezing. She was laying in something cold and wet and she didn't like it at all. She opened her eyes slowly only to find that she was surrounded by white. Snow. But it hadn't been snowing when she got home. If she remembered correctly, it had been unseasonably warm.

Sitting up, she held her head which was throbbing for some reason. She looked around and found that she seemed to be in the middle of a forest. How did she get here? She pushed herself up against a tree and stood quietly trying to get her bearings.

“Hello!” she called. “I...I need help!” She listened for footsteps but heard nothing but the wind howling. God, it was cold. She needed to get somewhere warm. She wished she could figure out where she was. The sound of a twig snapping sounded behind her and she turned back with a gasp. It could be a person...or it could be an animal. She was in the middle of a forest after all. She turned away from the sound and hugged herself before walking as quickly as she could.

There were no lights, no sounds of cars passing that could tell her if she was near any kind of road...or civilization. Another sound behind her and now she was running--running and crying. She was just at home. Was she dreaming? Oh God, please let me be dreaming, she thought.

She ran and ran until she heard a horse? No. That couldn't be right. She heard it again and ran towards the sound. “Hello?!” Stupidly, she turned to look back and ran into what felt like a tree. She hit the snow with a thud and focused on what towered over her. Or more like who.

“What the hell?” the man said in a gruff voice, shining his lantern down on her. His eyes widened when he realized just what had hit him. “Miss...are you okay?” He surveyed her and looked even more puzzled. She scooted herself back away from him. “I ain't gonna hurt you…” When he saw that she wasn't going to answer, he sighed and rolled his eyes then began taking his coat off. She stood up quickly, shivering.

“D-don't you even think about it!” she snapped and he stopped to look at her. “I know s-self-defense!”

“What are you talkin’ about, lady?” He shrugged his coat off and held it out to her. “You wanna freeze to death?” Belle looked at the coat then back at him. She walked over slowly until she was standing in front of him. He sighed again and moved closer until she tensed. “I told you I ain't gonna hurt you.” He carefully wrapped the coat around her then backed away.

“W-who are you? Where the hell am I?”

“You're in Colter, ma'am. Now...you wanna tell me what the hell you're doin’ out here in such a strange getup?” He pointed the lantern at her again and she squinted against the light.

“Colter? Where the hell is that?” She pulled the coat around her tighter as the wind blew. “And who the hell are you? Why is there snow? It wasn't snowing when I got home. It's too warm for snow.”

“It feel warm to you?” he asked sarcastically and she glared. “I'm Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” At the time, she didn't have the chance to put two and two together. She was cold, scared, and lost. “And you?”

“I'm Belle.” She let out a shivering breath and hugged herself tighter.

“All right, Miss Belle, we better get you somewhere warm.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He looked at her, offended. “Fine. Stay here and freeze to death.”

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Another man came into view. He seemed to be a little bigger than this Arthur guy. The new man looked at her, his eyes widening as well. “Who is she?” he asked, “And why is she out here?”

“She's-”

“My name is Belle. Who are you?” This man looked friendly enough, with his gentle looking face and beautiful, black hair.

“I'm Charles. Are you lost?”

“Obviously. I don't even know how I got here. I was at home in bed and then...I was here.” She began to cry and the men got a little uncomfortable. “Wait a minute…” She felt her pockets, her bra, but nothing. “No phone.”

“...we can't just leave her here,” she heard Charles whisper.

“I know that but…” Arthur looked at her and stopped talking when he realized she had been watching the two of them.

“You guys got a car or something? You can just drop me off somewhere. I'll see myself home.”

“Car?”

“I think the cold might be gettin’ to her,” Arthur said to Charles. He turned to her and held out his arm slowly. “We can take you somewhere...at least for tonight. You'll die out here.”

“I gotta get home. I have the new exhibit to premiere tomorrow!” She covered her face and cried some more.

“Just grab her,” Arthur whispered.

“Miss, you need to come with us,” Charles said cautiously. Belle didn't know what to do anymore. She looked at both men through her tears. They were both carrying weapons and even if they weren't they could easily overpower her. They didn't look like they wanted to hurt her but that's how a lot of people get lured in. “We have somewhere warm you can stay and tomorrow we'll see about getting you home.”

“Why should I trust either of you?”

“With all due respect, miss, you'll die if you stay out here. Now, stop bein’ stubborn and come with us,” the man named Arthur said. Charles looked at him and shook his head. “What?”

“Fine, but if either of you try anything I'll kick both your asses.” Charles smirked and Arthur shrugged. “I mean it. I can take both of you down. Doesn't matter how big you are.”

“Whatever you say, little lady,” Arthur said, amused.

“My name is Belle.”

“Alright, alright. Miss Belle. I apologize. Come with us.” She squeezed herself between the two men and tried to keep up with their strides. Her shoes were soaked through and she could hardly feel her feet but she wasn't going to complain to them. She stopped in her tracks when she realized they were leading her to horses.

“Uh...horses in this weather? No car?” She shivered and hugged herself.

“You need help gettin’ on up or what?” Arthur asked standing in front of her. She shrugged and he lifted her easily, placing her toward the back of the saddle and waited for her to swing her leg over to get himself on. He turned his head to look at her. “Hold onto me. Don't want you fallin’ off.”

“I'm not gonna fall,” she said but when the horse began moving she jerked back and she wrapped her arms around Arthur's middle instinctively. He chuckled and clicked his tongue to get the horse moving a little faster. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

Belle had no idea how long they rode before she had fallen asleep. She was pressed to Arthur's back and she noticed that even in the freezing cold, he was warm.

“Charles, get her down from here. Can't move with her wrapped around me like this.”

She felt two strong arms wrap around her and pull her down carefully but even then she jolted awake and almost panicked. “What are you doing?!”

“I'm helping you down. You fell asleep and Arthur was afraid to move while you were holding him,” Charles said quietly.

“I wasn't holding him,” she yawned, pushing away from Charles and getting her bearings.

“You were holdin’ me pretty tight, Miss,” Arthur teased. “And you fell asleep. You got pretty comfortable, huh?”

“I held onto you because I didn't want to fall, you asshole.” Arthur chuckled again and Belle looked around at the dilapidated cabins. “What the hell is this? Where are we?”

“This is...home,” Arthur said. “For now at least.” Belle shook her head in disbelief. She couldn't understand for the life of her what was going on or where she was. “Miss Grimshaw!” Arthur yelled, making her jump. A woman rushed over and took a nice long look at Belle. “Miss Belle here needs a place to stay for tonight. Found her while we were out huntin’.”

“Well, what were you doin’ out there, sweetheart?” the woman asked sympathetically.

“I...don't know, to be honest. I don't even know how I got here,” Belle admitted. “I want to go home.”

“I'm sure you do and we'll help you with that tomorrow. For now, you best come with me and we'll get you warm and dry.” Miss Grimshaw put her arm around Belle and led her to a cabin at the far end of the camp. She looked back for Arthur but he was nowhere to be found.

Miss Grimshaw had helped as much as she could even giving Belle clothes to wear.

“I'll tell Arthur to come and check on you soon,” she said before walking to the door.

“You don't have to do that.” Belle pulled on the dress uncomfortably before speaking again. “Can you tell me something...and this might sound crazy but...this isn't the year 2019, is it?”

“Two thousand!” Miss Grimshaw exclaimed. “My dear, this is 1899. We've come a long way but not that far.” Belle plopped down on the small bed and shook her head. “You sure you're okay? You hit your head or something?”

“No. I'm not okay.”

“You were wearin’ some strange clothes even for 1899. Is this what they wear in the cities or somethin’?” Miss Grimshaw asked.

“Something like that.” Belle was in a daze. 1899. That couldn't possibly be right. How would she even get to 1899?

Miss Grimshaw must have left while she was lost in her thoughts. The wind made the rickety cabin creak and the cold seeped through every crack and crevice. Belle hugged herself and stared off at nothing. She tried but couldn't come to terms with anything that was happening to her right now. Someone knocked on the door and she responded distantly.

“Yeah…”

“Miss...you alright?” Arthur peeked in and she nodded slowly. “You sure? Miss Grimshaw said I should come and check on you.”

“I told her she didn't have to tell you that.” She spoke without looking at him. She heard the door close as Arthur walked in. “What's your full name again?”

“Arthur Morgan, ma'am.”

“Arthur Morgan,” she repeated quietly. “Arthur….” She snapped her head up at him. Arthur Morgan...A.M…the journal she thought. “You. Its you.”

“What?” he asked.

“I...nothing. Sorry.” She held her hand out to him. “I'm Belle Kennedy.” He shook her hand and felt a kind of rush go through her. The way he looked at her made her think he felt it too.

“Where you from? What are you doin’ out here? It ain't safe for...well, for anyone.”

“I'm from...far away. I can't remember how I got here. I'm so scared.” Belle covered her face and sniffled into her hands then turned away from Arthur, embarrassed. “Sorry…”

Arthur grunted awkwardly and tapped her shoulder in a sort of comforting way. “It's all right. We'll get you home. You got family? Anybody that might be lookin’ for you?”

‘Sure do’, she thought, ‘But they don't exist yet and won't for another 120 years.’ This had to be a bad dream that was only going to get worse.

“Miss?” Belle looked at him and he nodded. “Look, I ain't gonna badger you for details about who you are or where you're from but I can't help you ‘less you give me somethin’.”

“I just...I can't say.” She looked away from him again and he sighed in defeat. “Sorry.”

“You ain't gotta be sorry. I get it. Maybe there's something or someone you're runnin’ away from and if that's the case then I guess you're my responsibility now. I found you.”

“I'm no one's responsibility. I can take care of myself.”

“I don't doubt that, ma'am. But I found you alone in the cold and it seems to me that you could use some help.” He held up his hand and put his finger and thumb close together but not touching. “Just a lil bit, hm?”

Belle stood and Arthur watched as she walked to the window. “You're the first friend I've made here, Mr. Morgan.”

“I ain't all that friendly but I'm glad you consider me a friend.” He walked over to where she stood. “If we're gonna be friends you gotta call me Arthur.”

“Okay...Arthur.”

“I should go and let you get some rest.” He walked to the door and turned as though he was going to say something else.

“What is it?” Belle asked.

“Nothin’. I'm gonna get you home, okay? I promise you that.”

“Thank you.”

He tipped his hat and smiled lightly. “Miss Belle.”

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

CHAT:

#1 after the Whispering removed

Following on from Anna telling Jo to get over it, Jo making a comment about how Anna had her changed by someone who hates her while Jo was changed by someone who claimed to love her.

*Anna rolls her eyes* “Right because doing something out of hate is teh same as doing it out of love.”

“It’s /better/ than doing it out of love with the amount of damage that happens.”

“So should I be screaming at you for what you did to me?”

“I always thought you should have. Though really it was out of love for my mother, not you, that I did what I did.”

*Anna shrugs* “I don’t even know what you did, just heard in passing something about crazy pills and you. It just seems like everyone hurts everyone else for their own good is part of teh normal. Why are you so upset?”

“I got given the option of drugging you like you had been in past, or my mother would be facing the same wrath that the rest of us have from Crowley. It wasn’t for your own good, or at least not mostly.” *Jo shakes her head, not quite sure how to explain it* “I’m upset because.. because this is completely against what I’ve been told in past from hi- it.”

“Do you love him?”

“I… ….I don’t even know if what I’m feeling right now is what I feel or what I’ve been made to feel any more…”

“What did he do to you?”

“It-He changed the way I think, about how I view myself when it comes to hunting and stuff. Made me more careful and cautious and less likely to be selfless in situations. But I don’t actually know if that’s /all/ he’s done - given he made me forget he did it before. Could have done it before with something else without my knowing.”

*Anna tries to not smile* “Gee can’t imagine how that feels at all.”

“And you’re not upset about it..?” *Jo frowns back at her, not liking the almost amused tone*

“I don’t know. Should I be?” *Anna run her hand through her hair* “If Grey had asked you to not do something dangerous would you have not done it?”

“I would be if I were you and everything had been tweaked. Though maybe not remembering that it has other than what people say is a bit easier..  Of course I wouldn’t, I told him that when he asked. It’s not the way I am, and he’s known that for months. He’s never tried to actually stop me doing what I thought was necessary before.”

“You kind of strike me as the type that tells her mom she’s not eating a cookie from the jar and then walks out of the kitchen with them in her pocket.”

“Well in that circumstance - so long as I didn’t have a cookie in my mouth - I’d be telling the truth..”

“but then as soon as you get in the other room you eat them.”

“But then they’d be from my pocket, not the jar. It’s a simple matter of getting the words right… Really important, sometimes.”

“Being told to not eat cookies before dinner and saying your not, only to turn around a min later to do it is still wrong. Splitting hairs doesn’t make a real difference. I just think that for Grey to do something that drastic there must have been a good reason behind it.”

“Always was a little worthless telling me not to eat before dinner - I eat far too much.” *Jo sighs and glares at the other making a reasonable argument* “The good reason being that he could? Or that he didn’t trust me? Or he had some crazy feeling that I was going to do something crazy? He did it because he was paranoid and he could.”

“Rightttt….”

“What would /you/ think a good reason for altering a part of someone you claim to care abouts personality would be? Completely and against their will, and then making them forget that you did until such a time as you see fit to change them /back/?”

“I think if it was a matter of life and death it would be different. But running out infront of a car to get to the other side of the street because it gets you to your objective faster is a bit different than waiting to cross at the light when it really doesn’t change anything.”

“Do I really seem the type whose stupid enough to run infront of a car to get across the street? Maybe if there was only a distinct amount of time I had to cross the road, but otherwise..”

“You seem that impatient, yes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t. Usually. And that just pisses me off if that’s what he thin-thought.”

“Well you can always take up my answer to everything, icecream. It’s kind of hard to be angry with brain freeze.”

“I mostly hit the bars, hit or kill something, bake something or go curl up on the couch wit- …”

“With?”

“With someone who calms me down.”

“Talk to him about it, if you two love each other then it’s worth putting aside your anger and forgiving him Jo.”

“You don’t make the people you love change, Anna.”

“No you change because you love them.”

“By that logic then neither of us love the other.”

“And maybe that’s why he felt the need to do what he did.”

“…I’m not following.”

“You wouldn’t change or meet him in the middle..I mean I don’t know Grey that well but he just doesn’t seem like the one that do that on whim.”

“…I wouldn’t have thought so either, but honestly, what do I even know. Can’t remember how we became friends, seen him acting more and more out of character - or at least more like his siblings. I don’t even know any more.  …I didn’t need to meet him in the middle or change though! I wasn’t doing anything that would have prompted me to need to.”

“Because you’re just so great at understanding people right?”

“… point.”

“Just talk to him. You don’t want to end up alone. It sucks and from what I’ve seen you’re still you.”

“I don’t /want/ to talk to him! I’m furious at him and I don’t want to blow up or shoot or burn hi- things. He did something..really really wrong, you might not get it but our entire friendship has been based on mutual /trust/ and he obviously doesn’t trust me and now I don’t trust him.   …I am fine on my own. You on the other hand…”

“So you’re friendship is different to any other friendship? I thought they were all based on mutual trust.”

“Not always. I’ve got friends I know I can’t trust and they know they can’t trust me and it works out just fine..”

“That’s called having an acquaintance not a friend.”

“…You don’t get it. And I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

“How do I not get it? Because you have an idea that isn’t the same as the rest of the world? I do get it. You don’t bend to anyone or anything. You have a totally different idea of what a friend, you haven’t acted like one since I started talking to you and you just get mad and defensive. I never said go right now and talk to him, I just said talk to him.”

“You don’t get how damn stupid this entire thing makes me! I thought that we trusted one another, when obviously we don’t, and I’ve just…  I apologise then, seriously.  ..I don’t want to.”

“God, everyone here so fucking prideful. You know what, stay pissed. Don’t talk to him, save your fucking pride and everything that makes you a special snowflake and live alone. I don’t care. I don’t know why I even talk to any of you. Being an adult means doing things you don’t want too.” *Anna storms off*

#2 - Anna continues with the “You did this to yourself” argument/blaming everything on Jo

Hows Anna doing in deciding if she wants to talk to Gray yet still?

she doesn’t know but shes okay with talking

*nodnod* That’s progress, right?

maybe lol

hows Jo?

Jo’s more mopey than angry, been eating frosting since her bakings been burning, and just very weird. So progress lololol

awwwwww

Anna thinks Jo should still get over it

Understandable. �� Jo’s not sure its something you can ‘get over’, and she’s feeling sort of really bad for treating Anna like she had about not remembering things or being freaked out.

“okay let me put it this way. How many other people are you going to find that’s going to put up with your ass? And willing to go to such extremes because he cares?”

“Probably none, with all things considered. But going to extremes isn’t a very good thing, especially when it restricts someone you’re supposed to care abouts freedoms.”

“You should know all about going to extremes from what I hear.”

“What is it you hear then?”

“Careless, reckless, gets the job done but is sloppy.”

“Doesn’t mean I effect anyone but myself usually”

“You effect everyone that cares for you, idiot. Grey most off all.”

“I haven’t died since the last time, I think I’m doing okay, so maybe I just dont get why people are worrying”

“……………. maybe Grey should have tweeked your IQ level when he was in there.”

“Why? I have…barely even gotten close yet again. I don’t get why it effects everyone that cares about me how I do my job, because the job gets done and I get out mostly unscathed. I’m not a complete moron, I don’t take on what I can’t do myself.”

“Do you even hear yourself? You judge things as being okay by how close or not close you get? That mentality worries every, you aren’t a cat, you don’t get nine lives.”

“Maybe not, but I’m on my second one, so who knows maybe I am. I judge it that way because..well, that;s the easiest way to. I might break some bones one hunt, I’m not dead. I might get a concussion or have a large amount of blood loss, but I’m not dead. I’m still moving, I’m still breathing, I’m fine.”

“And what happens when you don’t care about being dead anymore?”

“I keep doing the same thing I’m already doing until I’m not any more?”

“and what about the people you leave behind”

“People die all the time.. you learn to live with it.”

“You learn to live with it? Have you ever mourned anyone as an adult? Not as a kid?”

“Not I’m guessing in the way you’d mean.”

“then think about that, and I’m going to guess Grey and Gray have a longer life than us..”

“Uh… longer than me, that’s for sure.”

“So they get to the time you have..and then Grey gets to mourn you for the rest of his life and if you act careless, you’re taking time away from him.”

“Are you applying this same theory for yourself? You realise you somehow got the most psychotic, murderous, uncaring creature I’ve ever met to feel something for the first time ever and you’re not even trying to patch things over or work out the kinks or help him get over the woman he fell in love with?”

“Turning this on me isn’t a good way to get out of this conversation and he’s not the only one trying to get over tht other woman. But the point is I plan on being around whenever the time is right for us to talk if at all again.”

“Sure it is, I’d much rather talk about you than me. I’m not /planning/ on dying.”

“You aren’t doing anything to make anyone feel assured by that claim either.”

“Why not? I don’t want to die. How is that not reassuring?” (sorry was making lunch)

“Just..never mind you’ve never been in the place where you have to worry about someone. I don’t know how to make you relate.”

“I try not to worry about others anymore. I swear it aged my mother ten years and then another ten after.”

“Clearly.”

“Course that’s a lie though.. I worried about the..other Anna? Is that what I should call you, er, her, um..”

“I don’t know and you cared enough to hurt her. So..”*Anna shrugs*

“That was a case of caring about my /mother/ more so than my not caring about her.”

“Is all conversations like this? With Grey? You justifying your actions with the attitude that you’re in total control and not at fault at all?”

“I’m not saying I wasn’t at fault there, I very very clearly was - but I was saying that I worried about her before. A lot.  …I dunno. Probably?”

“And you wonder why he just did something like that?”

“I told him I wouldn’t lie to him and say I wouldn’t do something reckless in order to get rid of Crowley…”

“And the rest of the time?”

“…I’m not going to promise not to put myself in danger to save others.”

“What about because it’s a rush and there’s no one in danger?”

“Sometimes if you don’t rush to get the job done, it’ll get out of reach and then someone could get hurt or worse later.”

“Do you really hunt to save people or do you do it because like simply like it?”

“…Why can’t it be both? Why’s everyone seperate them out as the only answers. I want to save people, I want to help people and I like to do both those things, but, yeah, I like hunting outside of that as well.”

“Because you hide behind saving people like a shopping addict hides behind needing just one more top or it was on sale.”

“Well I don’t. I want to stop other people losing their families, I want to do something which makes me happy too.”

“Sure..but maybe you should start by saving Grey’s only family first.” *Anna walks off*

#3 -Scene right before Jo called Grey back to talk for the first time after the Whispering (and when Anna ends up sleeping over while Jo talks to Grey)

*After the last few excursions out of town repeatedly the last week, it had slipped her mind about having broken the coffee pot and running out of instant before the last demon chase; and with her sleep not being anywhere near as peaceful as normal, she’d headed into town for an after-dinner coffee run to get her through the night. Though as she got to the footpath in front of the house and spots Anna sitting on the stoop, Jo starts to regret getting a take away option or three.* “Hey… what are you doing here?” *Moving past the other, Jo juggles the drinks holder while unlocking and opening the door with the other*

*Anna hasn’t had a good night since she last spoke to Gray and she doesn’t know what to do, she feels lost as to how to handle him and everything else. Jo seems to know her as well as Gray and she knows him so she had put on her coat and headed over to the house she was staying in. When no one answered she checked around back, still seeing the car so she had sat down waiting on the steps. Jo returning fairly soon was a good thing as it’s getting cold now fast when the sun goes down and she stands as Jo walks past her holding her coffee.* “I..wanted to talk. Is it okay to come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” *Jo steps back against the door, holding it open and waving Anna in, tossing her keys haphazardly onto the small cabinet against the staircase in the hall, not caring when it slides down the back. She’s got time to get them later* “..So… whats up?”

*Anna walks inside looking around, she isn’t sure how to start or what to even say at first so when they move into what she guesses is the living room she bites her lip.* “I talked to Gray, my Gray and well yours too but it’s more about what my Gray said that sort of made me realize everything and just let me start off by saying. I’m sorry for my attitude and everything.”

*Jo nods in understanding when Anna talks about talking to the shadows, though she doesn’t hide her surprise at Anna having talked to the both of them that well. Sitting down, she sets her drinks on the table in front of her before kicking a few things off of the rest of the sofa for Anna as she grabs a drink* “Anna, no apology needed. Honestly, I’m starting to get a bit of an idea about your perspective, so.. it’s okay. Like I said first time we re-met - forgive and forget. Though, gotta ask, what’d he say that’s…” *Jo waves her free hand as though to encompass everything and Anna, raising an eyebrow*

*Anna sits down looking around, raising a brow at the holes in the ceiling.* “Gray, told me what happened. What all I did to him. I guess I finally got it, watching him talking about it. I don’t know what to do about it now.”

*Taking a large mouthful of her drink as Anna raises her eyebrow, Jo shrugs a shoulder* “He told you everything? Start to finish? Or just about..what ended up making things tense between, well, most of us?”

“About Crowley and what happened in the last few weeks. I already knew about like how he and I met. Gray’s been upfront about things I’ve been asking.” *Anna leans back letting out a sigh.* “Everyone seems so miserable now. It’s not fair that you all live with it and I can’t remember it.”

“Right, well.. things were hard at that time for everyone - you can’t really be blamed for reacting to such a change like you did. Lord knows how most people would handle it.” *Anna’s comment about everyone being miserable gets a laugh out of her, shaking her head* “It’s not your fault if people are any more; and last time I ran into Gray he seemed in a pretty good mood actually.”

“Probably because he was without me. I don’t get it, why he even wants to be friends. I said some really shitty things to him it seems and I just don’t get why any of you have tried to talk to me. At least Grey is clear, we aren’t friends.”

“Because? We’re all fucked up and who the hell else is going to put up with our crazy asses?” *Jo lets out another laugh, a tad more bitter sounding than the last one, before shaking her head and shifting to kick off her boots* “Because in our own way we - I mean me and your monster - love you, same as you do us, and it’s sorta easy to take the hits after a while?  …yeah, I’d have guessed that would be pretty clear enough..” *She takes another gulp of her drink, glad it’s cool enough not to scald her mouth as though it’ll wash away the topic of the other monster, before leaning over to set it on the coffee table*

“Love isn’t supposed to be about taking hits. If it’s toxic and it sounds like ours was then you purge it.” *Anna runs her hand through her hair and she looks at Jo.* “Grey’s hiding out in churches, it’s where I ran into him.”

“Sure it is, Bobby always says that family, love, whatever, it’s not supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be hard and you’re goin’ to get beat down with it sometimes. That’s just how it goes.” *Jo shrugs a shoulder before shooting Anna a look. Turning away after a beat, she adds quietly* “Yippee for him.. …he.. …is he alri- not acting like his brother?”

“Besides looking like he kicked a puppy he seemed fine. We talked for a while before I wore my welcome out.  He really doesn’t seem the type to go out and pick up girls.” *Anna smiles some and she looks at Jo feeling awkward.* “I don’t know how to make any of this right with anyone. What should I do?”

“I meant more eating /people/. …don’t care if he decides to go out and do whatever else.” *Jo shrugs, tucking her feet up under her and shifting on the couch. Anna’s question though startles her, not having expected the other to really want her opinion  “Well, things are pretty right with me. We bicker, we fight, we don’t really apologise much and we just hang out. And you’ve never been friends with Grey, so it doesn’t really… count.  As for Gray…”

“Gray I don’t know what to do the most, I hurt him bad it seems and he’s still hurting over it I think. He wants to just take it slow. He out right said that’s why he put conditions that he knew I would never agree with.” *Anna sighs as she thinks about what Jo said about them bickering and so she reaches over and takes on of the cups of coffee for herself.*

*Jo makes an outraged squeak when Anna grabs one of her cups, before shaking her head* “Yeah, I didn’t think his…well, what I broke up was likely to be something you’d be alright with. Do you not want to take it slow though? What’s the issue? If you guys aren’t sleeping together and going to try for friends, then I guess both of you being yourselves is a good thing.”

“I don’t mind taking it slow, but I think by slow he means just be friends.  I don’t even know why, just you and him provoke the strongest feelings. And yea, basically he wanted to be free to do what he wanted too and when I said fine I get too as well he didn’t like it.” *Anna takes the top off the coffee, blowing on it before taking a sip.*

“Probably does, to begin with.. He’s bad at - heads up, its a double - being ‘just friends’. …probably as bad as I am.” *She laughs quietly to herself at the attempt at a joke, nodding though at Anna’s comments* “That would probably be because you and I were really close, friends, hunting partners, actual partners of sorts. And Gray… well, it’s like you both just connected. Really strongly. As for the not liking that kind of stuff, yeah, just..not in their nature to be alright with that.”

“I just don’t know where to start to make things up to Gray, he tried really hard to not be mad at me but he’s still hurting and I don’t want him to look at me and constantly be reminded of the bad things.” *Anna sighs before looking at Jo and then looking around at the house.* “Are you and Grey over with for good?”

“Just… well, you don’t think he’s any of the stuff you told him do you? That he’s said you said, I mean.” *Jo raises an eyebrow at Anna before tilting her head at the question, leaning over to grab her drink before shifting back and taking a few sips as though considering things* “I dunno. Haven’t spoken since he broke the news and went. …I doubt so, though.”

*Anna shakes her head quickly.* “For someone that’s supposed to be an evil monster, Gray tries really hard to be there and no, I don’t think he’s like his brother or that he’s weak.”

“All you have to do is keep feeling that around him then. Treating him like how you, like I dunno, feel he is. He’ll pick up on it.” *Jo shrugs again, relaxing back again and pulling the lid off her coffee to lick the frothy underside before tossing the plastic away and continuing to sip from the open cup* “Honestly, even I acknowledged he was a good guy for you. One of the reasons I agreed not to kill him, and didnt hand him over to his brother when Crowley gave him to me..”

“But this isn’t about if he’s good for me. I don’t think I’m good for him.” *Anna looks down at the partially drank coffee in her hands as she sighs.* “I don’t want to hurt him anymore and I feel like I keep doing it. He practically lets me get away with anything even though it annoys him or he doesn’t like it. I don’t know what to do to make him happy.”

“Yeah well, you’re good for him too. He’s less deadly when he’s been with you, he’s a lot less aggressive and definitely seems more happy than giant-jerk-asshole-dickish all the time.” *Jo lets out a small laugh at just how serious Anna seems to be feeling and how bogged down* “I’d say sex, but that’s kind of against the going slow idea.  ….try to pump up his confidence a bit, maybe.”

“How? It’s not like we date or anything and like you said sex isn’t a going slow method of things.” *She can’t help but feel frustration coming on as she doesn’t know what Gray likes or doesn’t like and the main things he seems to really enjoy she isn’t exactly a fit partner for.*

“It’s not like any of us actually do dates, though lord knows what he think would be an appropriate one.” *Jo raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side* “You’re the expert on friends out of us Anna.. How did you make your friends feel better before… everything?”

“I don’t see Gray as the box of chocolate and a spa trip sort of guy to make him feel better.” *Anna snorts at the suggestion of what she remembers for her other friends before this life and then the church.* “And a prayer circle is I’m sure totally out of the question.”

“Never know, he’s got a twisted sense of humor.” *Jo tries not to laugh at Anna’s suggestions, the mental images sure to haunt her for a while. Tilting her head to the side, she tries to think of something that could be helpful* “Well.. all I can think is he likes sex, killing girls and his razors. I’d try to think of his hobbies but that sort of sums them up.”

“Yes, take him to a spa and have the heated stone massage he can kill the girl and then relax in the steam room. Sounds like a plan to me.” *Anna can’t help the sarcasm in her voice as she’s not any closer to finding out what she should do.*

“Its sad that that could probably work as a plan. Though I strongly disagree with it.” *Jo sighs, smiling slightly at the sarcastic response* “Be much easier if he had non-destructive hobbies or interests.. Course, you could always just flirt with him a fair bit. Goes against the slow but if he knows you’re not givin’ it up, he doesn’t seem to mind the playing.”

*Anna sits there in thought for a while and she sits up placing the coffee on the table.* “I think I have an idea, do you have like around three hundred dollars I could borrow?”

*Jo jerks at Anna’s movement, giving her a strange look* “You’re not getting him another hooker, are you? Cause I don’t think he played with the last one really.”

*Anna turns red instantly at the idea that she bought him a hooker and she nearly chokes shaking her head quickly* “No! God! No! I..just something that seems to appeal to him that is perfectly safe!”

*Jo bursts out laughing at Anna’s response, finding her reaction beyond comical* “I.. …do I even want to know what this idea is? But yeah, I have some cash you can have. Don’t worry about paying me back, not mine anyway.”

*Anna still red as her hair nods and stands up, checking the time. She couldn’t do it tonight but in the morning she could.* “Alright thank you Jo. I should probably head back to my place, it’s going to be freezing soon.”

“You can always crash here if you want. Not like I’m sleeping tonight anyway.” *Jo just throws it out there as she stands up too, moving into the hall to open the drawer she keeps most of her cash rolls, an old habit from at the Roadhouse sticking with her, credit cards, and credit card offers. Grabbing one that would be more than enough, she holds it out to Anna like its nothing*

*Anna takes the money and thanks Jo again, putting it away, last thing she wants is mugged on the way home.* “It has to be lonely here after being used to Grey always being here with you. If you want the company and you promise to not shoot me then I could stay I guess.”

#4 - Putting this one up because of the ‘breakfast, lunch and dinner’ remark from Jo that just needs to see the light of day (Grey absolutely has to see that line because jesus girl) but also Anna yet again accusing Jo (whose been perfectly nice) of being a bitch offhandedly…

“What do you think I should do Jo?”

“Honestly? I’d give him a taste of his own medicine and let him know what he’s missing..”

“I mean about everything..as much as I try I’m always going to be that other Anna and I

’m tired.”

“…well, if you want to learn about her - I’m happy to talk; but..otherwise maybe trying to get your memories back if you want them.”

“I don’t know..I’m me, part of the memories I have are real right? Crowley only messed with part of them and when the other Anna came  back, it was like I died..the angel took over but now I don’t know anymore if I should have stayed dead or maybe both of us should have died.”

“That right there sort of sounds like her. ..She kind of regretted coming back for the second time. But Crowley messed with a bit - though the angel? She still remembered right up until you first went into the hospital years ago, actually. Just a little - or a lot - more than that as well.”

“She fell and I was the result, so in truth I was the lie all along..” *Anna makes a bitter laughing sound as she takes the bottle and fills a glass.*

“She didn’t want to be an angel, do you know what their like? They’re emotionless, cold, hard. Nothing feels the same as it does for us, like our human emotions but layered and layered in cotton buds.” *Jo sighs* “She wanted to be you, so badly. And I get the feeling she never quite knew if she was that angel or you any more in the time I knew her.”

“You know what’s stupid. I want to be me too and I can’t because no one knew me, all they knew was her and I’m never going to get out from under the shadow of her.” *Throwing back the shot Anna pours another one and downs it as well before pouring her third.* “She was a failure at being an angel, she fucked up everything she touched and now I’m paying the price and I’m not even real!”

*Anna’s reaction actually makes Jo laugh, reaching out to grab the bottle and pour herself a drink* “You were real Anna. All your memories up until your hospitalisation were real, your childhood, your parents..Your dad might not have biologically have been your dad, but your mom gave birth to you, they loved you as their own and you are real, Anna. …I wouldn’t mind getting to know you, if you’ll forgive me if I forget sometimes, that is.”

“Right..gave birth and because of me or Anna or us they died. And face it, you would have never tried to get to know this me, you would have just brushed me off as being a..what do you call it? A civillian and moved on with your next hunt. The angel was useful at least somewhat I guess.”

“My mom died because of me, thing I’ve learnt is that what demons do? Isn’t our fault.  Course civillian you wouldn’t have bothered to speak to someone like me as it is, would you?”

“I don’t know you look like you could use some saving..” *Anna snorts throwing back another shot, feeling it burn going down.* “But then I think I would have been talking at you than talking to you because it would have just bounced off that thick skull.”

“Just a little!” *Jo laughs, running a hand over her hair as she watches the other before leaning forward on the bar* “Course, I know my scripture, or at least enough. Apocalypse signs and everything… Still, I’ll get to know this you, civilian or not.”

“It’s not just you, did you know Gray is borrowing a body like I would socks..because I didn’t but it seems everyone assumed I knew. Everytime I think I get things figured out, someone decided to make me feel like an  idiot.”

“Oh god, I forgot to mention that didn’t I?” *Jo pulls a face, looking awkward as she takes her drink and pours another* “Sorry, I forget that some things aren’t common knowledge.”

“Doesn’t matter. I tried to do something nice but I messed it up I think and then I had a small freak out when I learned about monsters and angels being able to possess people. I’m sure Gray in the end is tired of dealing with me, I would be if I was him. He wants to just be friends and friends doesn’t mean dealing with the baggage because that’s all I am.”

“Wouldn’t write him off, but honestly, Anna, if you want to move on then you should either that or tell him you don’t want to be ‘just friends’, that your feelings are deeper than that and you want to work out a solution that makes the /both/ of you happy. …Don’t ask me where I’m getting all this from, I’ve been watching a lot of daytime tv and romcoms.”

“I don’t know, you and Gray cause feelings that I don’t understand. Gray, I get frustrated at because I don’t know what to do, everything I seem to try doesn’t work. He doens’t want anything but to be friends now because we got in a fight over if he has free reigns to hook up then I should but that didn’t seem to fit. He doesn’t like the idea of whats fair for the goose is fair for the gander. Gray opened up, told me what Anna did to him, he looked so sad and I don’t understand why he even talks to me if she did so much wrong to him but he does and he’s been nice and I tried to do something nice for him but I don’t think he liked it, I may have checked to see if he had been in to the shop and he hasn’t. So I don’t know, I feel like I owe him for what she did and he needs someone but I don’t know if I’m that person because my feelings are messed up and I want to do whats the right thing but I feel like I shouldn’t be selfish and push anything.” *Anna probably doesn’t need another shot but she takes one any way when she runs out of breath*

“What’ve I got to do with this?” *Jo shoots her a look before shrugging a shoulder, pouring the both of them another drink* “Just so you know, whatever idea you had was probably a good one if he wasn’t so uncomfortable in some situations. …my question is why don’t you just say he has free reigns and keep him too happy to do anything about it? Lord knows that that is not an undesirable task..”

“You just I guess you were the other person Anna felt attached too..” *Looking away she feels awkward saying that to Jo but she shrugs, reaching over and picking up a peanut on the bar and cracking it, peeling away the shell.* “He does have freedom to do what he wants..and I’m not what he wants so I can’t use that plan..”

“Yeah well, I was pretty attached to her too up until some stuff, so no biggie.” *She shrugs again, tossing her head back before coughing half her drink up at Anna’s comments* “You’re joking right? Pretty sure he’d be pretty happy getting back in the sack with you Anna..”

*Anna raises a brow at Jo’s choking and she laughs* “Once..we were together once and that’s when the whole just be friends thing started so it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that he really doesn’t want me that way now.”

“Yeah, no, that wouldn’t be it. It’s the goose and gander comments, goes against their nature really and he’s done it once before but… that didn’t end so well.” *Wiping her mouth, Jo sighs and pours herself another drink* “Probably just scared and calling it something else. God knows I’ve hidden behind ‘just friends’ for months even though I want to fuck them for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

“It doesn’t matter if he wants me or not, I tried to start over, I did. I just wanted to be normal but I’m a coward and I’m afraid of being alone. I don’t want to be cut off from the only people I know.” *Anna throws the peanut down and has another shot, she’s lost count at how many she’s had and she’s feeling it hard now.* “If he wants to be friends then what right do I have to ask for anything else, the other Anna did everything against what he wanted and I’m not her..”

“Normals for people who’ll get their necks torn open in their beds.” *Jo quips back, shrugging before dusting her hands off* “So you’re going to just..what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not going to ever be normal. I could learn to hunt again I suppose.” *Anna doesn’t mention Gray because she’s not going to stop being his friend but she’s at a loss as to what she wants for herself personally now.*

“Take it from me, the other Anna kind of hated it.” *Jo lets out a laugh, sipping from her glass* “I could show you the research ropes again, that was sort of you and Harry’s /real/ jobs here until..you stopped.”

“I guess. It’s not like if I get killed now it’s going to matter much. You could use me for bait, I’m sure that would make hunts go faster and you say you’re a good shot. At least this way I’ll feel useful again in some way.”

“Think you’re underestimating how good your memory and research skills are, Anna. Hell, I’m guessing you were doing pretty good in college, am I right? As for the bait thing…I tend to end up in that role when theres more than just myself on a hunt these days”

“Research is fine and I’m just talking.” *Anna stands up, swaying as she steps back, her foot catching on the bar stool and nearly falling because she didn’t feel it.* “I should go home or to that place I sleep, home..that’s a laugh. You know what they say, can’t ever go home again Jo.”

*Jo leans across the bar to steady Anna, shaking her head* “Should just go upstairs, knowing Harry and Lily neither of them probably moved rooms.” *Anna’s babbling about home makes Jo sigh, barely containing an eyeroll even though she knows exactly what the other means*

“Nah I can make it home, walk off what I drank.” *Anna reaches over and hugs Jo tight without warning.* “You’re nice even though you act like a bitch at times. Thanks.” *Anna turns and makes her way out of the bar, trying to walk straight.*

[loveissupernatural]

“The Man Behind the Mask”

Pt 5

Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You’ve recently moved to Queens, New York after your father finds a new job with the U.S. government handling alien affairs in the city. You’ve grown up in a small town, and it’s your junior year of high school; culture shock takes a whole new meaning when you’re saved by the famed new web-slinging Avenger - and when you meet a new group of friends at Midtown High that seem to always be hiding something. But things quickly get personal.

Masterlist / Pt 1 – Pt 2 – Pt 3 – Pt 4

Peter wasn't in Chemistry that afternoon, and like he requested, you covered for him. When your teacher got to Peter's name on the roll and there was no reply, you quickly shouted out that he was called in last-minute by Mr. Stark concerning something very important. Your teacher looked annoyed, but satisfied. This made you wonder just how often Peter skipped classes for this internship – after all, your teacher didn't seem surprised in the slightest.

Luckily for you, the lesson plan for the day consisted of only lecture and a few PowerPoint slides, so all you had to do was keep organized notes. Although, something told you that Peter could probably take the test for the chapter and ace it without attending a single class or reading a page of notes.

Ned walked to the bus stop with you when the day was over and gave you an encouraging hug before you slid into the cold leather seats of the government-issued SUV. Your mother was not in the back to accompany you like last time. It was only you and the asshole driver/bodyguard/assassin that apparently never got the memo that wearing sunglasses all the time made you look like a douche. He didn't speak to you and you didn't speak to him, which was just fine by you. You were still angry with him for his lack of answers to your searing questions in the hospital elevator that morning.

The silence would almost be awkward if it weren't for the fact you were still so pissed off. After the silent elevator ride, you practically sprinted toward your father's hospital room, desperate to see him. You prayed in your heart of hearts that your father was awake, or at least improving. You heard your gorilla of a driver snort in annoyance at your impatience, but you didn't care. It took the will of every cell in your body not to turn around give the guy a middle-finger salute.

Your mother was out of her chair and giving you a tight hug the moment you entered the room, and you could feel the pent-up stress slowly melt from your shoulders. She rubbed soothing circles into your back before pressing a quick, almost undetectable peck to your hair.

“How's he doing, Momma?” you asked, your voice almost too quiet for her to hear. What if the answer was something you didn't want to hear?

She sighed through her nose and looked into your eyes, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. A watery smile crept onto her lips.

“He's about the same, baby,” she replied. “Nurses and his doctor came in a few times throughout the day, but didn't really tell me much. They changed out his gauze a few times and took some blood. After a certain point I just stopped asking questions.” A flicker of anger crossed her face.

You could tell that your mother was about as fed up with the lack of information as you were, although she was much better at hiding it. You didn't have much of a filter and sometimes wish that you possessed your mother's level of self-restraint.

“When will we know?” you sighed, collapsing onto the small love seat that had been your bed the night before and tossing your backpack to the floor. “I'm so sick of this, Mom. We deserve to know what's going on, or at least if he's gonna be okay. They—they can't just keep treating us like this. We're his family, for God's sake.”

“I know that this is frustrating, honey, trust me, I know,” she said, sitting beside you on the love seat and putting a supportive arm around your shoulders. “But they have their reasons for not telling us details right now, and it's for the best. We have to believe that... otherwise, we'll go crazy.” She laughed with an air of sarcasm as you rolled your eyes.

“You know, Peter says that they’re doing this for liability reasons,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “That they'll do whatever they can to avoid any kind of bad press or a lawsuit.”

Your mother leaned back, assessing you with critical but gentle eyes. “Oh, really? And who's this Peter?”

“He's a friend I made at school,” you replied, doing your very best to keep your expression neutral. “Peter has an internship with Tony Stark—ya know, Iron Man? He said when all of that alien attack stuff happened in New York a few years back, that Mr. Stark had to deal with the government a lot, and that he still does. That Mr. Stark says everything is all about self-interest with them.”

Your mother closed her eyes and ran a hand through her knotted hair. “I'm sure everything was very tense during those days, Y/N. No one was at their best.”

“Well Mr. Stark knows a lot more about the way the Department of Defense runs than we do,” you said quickly, determined to hold onto this theory that the government was hiding this accident from the world—from its victims' families—for nothing more than selfish reasons. “I mean, think about it, Mom, really think about it. A lot of people lost faith in the government to keep them safe when the big attack hit New York. They created the Department of Alien Affairs with the help of the Avengers right after it happened, and they helped with the clean up efforts and restorative projects around the city. There were so many press conferences and photo ops—I mean, it was as much an image thing as it was actual work.” You took your mother's hand and squeezed it. Her eyes didn't lose their somewhat critical edge. “Can you imagine the outcry if it got out that something like this happened in their new department that is supposed to be dedicated to safety, to being prepared at all times in case something like that attack happens again?” The gears started whirring in your brain. “If they can't keep their own employees safe, how will that look to the rest of the world?”

Your mother's eyes softened. She suddenly looked ten years older and very tired. She started to play with the pieces of hair falling from your messy bun. “Baby, I know that you're looking for any kind of explanation for this. I get it. But let's not get carried away, okay? They're probably just keeping everything hush-hush until they finish their investigation on exactly what happened. Government agencies, even private companies, do that all the time when something goes wrong. It keeps misinformation from getting out there—”

“Mom, please don't tell me that I'm overreacting or that I'm overthinking this, okay? Something's not right here, I can feel it!”

“Of course something's not right,” she almost snapped, her watery eyes gazing at the heap of gauze and casts that was your father. “We were starting over, starting a new life with lots of new, exciting opportunities, and before we could even start to enjoy it, and grow as a family, your dad...” she trailed off and looked at her feet, trying to hide her sniffling. “Your father is very hurt and is in the hospital, Y/N. Of course this isn't right, and this isn't fair. But life isn't always fair, and that's something, if anything, that you can take away from this.”

“But—but, Mom,” you begged, tears building and that familiar stinging overtaking your throat, “you have to believe me, something is happening—”

“No, Y/N,” she barked, and you were taken aback by the harshness in her voice that cut through you like knives, “this—this is hard enough. This is quite enough to handle without... without far-fetched conspiracy theories piled on top of it. Obsessing over this, it's not going to make your dad any better, and it's only going to make things harder for you and for me. We have to deal with this in a healthy way, not with misplaced blame and—and paranoid theories that the people keeping your dad alive right now are somehow secretly working against us.”

“But, Mom, that's not—” you whispered, the tears flowing freely.

“I don't want to hear another word about it,” she cut you off, rising from her seat and leaving the room. You watched as the only family you had left within a thousand mile radius denied your fears and left you alone. She left you alone in the hospital room with nothing but the sound of your quiet wails to drown out the beeping of the machines, the only thing keeping your father alive.

You fell asleep with puffy, swollen eyes and a pounding head before your mother came back to the hospital room. She left a faint kiss on your forehead before covering you in a light blanket and collapsing into the armchair at the other side of the room. You cracked open an eye to watch her as she gently took your father's cast-covered hand and finally drifted to sleep. You then peeked toward the hallway, observing the security camera mirror mounted on the ceiling across from your room. You could see the faint reflection of a black bulge standing outside of the door frame—looks like asshole sunglasses guy never takes a break.

You drifted again into a restless sleep that was shrouded by dreams of explosions, endless hospital hallways, and sneaky doctors with evil faces surrounding your father's hospital room.

You were woken by yelling down the hallway and running footsteps. There was yelling, so much yelling. You opened your eyes with difficulty, rubbing the sleep away to find the hallway illuminated in red light, the outlines of nurses, doctors, and men in suits rushing every which way disorienting you.

“Mom... what's going on?” you asked croakily, your heart starting to throb painfully as your body and mind caught up to all of the noise and flashing lights.

Your mother was standing by the doorway with her arms crossed and back to you. She slightly turned her head, enough for you to see the bags underneath her eye. “Stay where you are, Y/N.”

“Code five, code five!” you heard a man shout down the hallway, and two more large men in suits ran past your doorway with guns held high. You ignored your mother's request and came up beside her, peering out into the hallway. It was complete chaos, an alarm beginning to sound, with a woman's robotic voice echoing throughout the floor.

INTRUDER IN SECTOR FOUR, it rang, CODE FIVE ENACTED. INTRUDER IN SECTOR FOUR.

“Someone broke in?” you asked no one in particular, rubbing your eyes again as you tried to comprehend what that meant. Why would someone be breaking into a hospital? But then again, why was this hospital set up like a prison instead of a place for the sick and injured?

Your mind was racing one thousand miles a second. Was the intruder dangerous? What did they want? Did this have something to do with the accident, or was it something even worse? Were you in danger? More importantly, was your family in danger? What were you supposed to do? For the first time since this whole thing began, you were missing your asshole bodyguard. Where was he? He would know what to do.

“Where is it?!” you heard someone demand down the hall. You peered around the door to see a female doctor about ten feet away grabbing a nurse by the collar. Her expression looked livid illuminated by the blood red light. “Where are all the files?!”

“I s-swear,” stuttered the nurse, her face drenched in nervous sweat, “I locked up the file vault like I always do if I leave the immediate perimeter! I went to go get coffee for five minutes—”

“If you locked up Sector Four and enacted all of the security protocols then how the hell did someone get in there?!” the doctor demanded, shaking the nurse in fury. “This is gonna be all of our heads, you insolent little—”

She was interrupted by a man that you recognized as your assigned security guard running toward her, his face drenched in sweat with a bruise the size of a baseball forming on his forehead. He stowed his gun, gasping for breath. “They're g-gone. All the files for the explosion at the main lab. All of 'em, they're gone.”

Explosion at the main lab? Your mother's eyes darted to you, anxious questions swimming in them. You put a finger to your lips as you pressed against the inside of the door frame and slid as closely to the hallway as you could without being seen.

“Shit,” the doctor spat. “How is this even possible? I was assured that this was the top-of-the-line security system, that no one without proper clearance could get in or out of that room once the alarm was tripped.”

“I don't get it,” your guard answered, wincing as he put his hands on his hips and tried to stand up straight, “the room is spotless besides those missing files, like he went in knowing exactly what he was lookin' for.”

A few nurses rounded the corner supporting bloodied and bruised suited agents, all looking like they'd just gotten jumped by someone twice their size.

“But here's the kicker,” the man continued, gingerly touching his forehead and pulling his hand back as if it'd shocked him. He opened one side of his suit jacket, pulling out his gun with ginger fingers. You couldn't believe what you saw next. His firearm's barrel was covered in a thick, sticky, white substance. You knew what that was. “Dr. Lexley, I think our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.”

The harsh red light was eventually turned off. The robotic alarm ceased. Groaning men the size of linebackers, some covered in webbing, were being rolled in on stretchers to a room down the hall. You didn't fall back asleep on that lumpy love seat for the rest of the night, your eyes wide open and mind racing like it never had before. Spider-Man had been there. Spider-Man had broken into this government facility, stolen files on a lab explosion (was that what happened to your father?) and easily fought his way through security to swing away into the chilly New York night. What did Spider-Man want with those files? Why were they important? If this superhero was investigating the Department of Defense's affairs, was something bad going on? Otherwise, why would he get involved in the first place? Was this the confirmation you needed that something shady was going on in Alien Affairs? Were you, Peter, and Ned right? Was there more than meets the eye here?

Peter was friends with Spider-Man, right? You could ask Peter to talk to his friend in the blue and red suit on your behalf, and maybe even ask him to stop by your apartment one night to give you the inside scoop. Maybe you could finally figure out what was going on with your father.

“Ned!” you called to your friend the next morning, waving to him from across the crowded high school hallway. You worked your way through the crowd the way Ned and Peter had taught you, with your shoulders. He greeted you with a light hug but quickly looked down at you with concern.

“Damn, girl, are you sleeping at all?” he asked, and you self-consciously smoothed down your hair.

“I mean, maybe I'm not sleeping that great, why?” you asked, eyes narrowed. You'd looked in the mirror that morning; you knew the purple circles under your eyes were there, but they weren't that bad, were they?

“Uh, no reason,” Ned seemed to catch himself, giving a nervous chuckle.

You rolled your eyes and looked over Ned's shoulder. “So, where's Peter?”

Ned quickly turned from you to his locker, opening it and switching out a few books and binders. “Uh, I don't know,” he answered vaguely, adding another strip of tape to the string holding the small replica of the Death Star hanging from the roof of his locker. “It's probably an internship thing.”

You groaned. “Again? How is he keeping up with school when he's, like, never here?”

Ned shrugged, back still to you. “He's wicked smart, remember? Besides, Mr. Stark calls in every other week to clear his absences.”

“He can do that?” you asked in surprise. You chewed on your bottom lip. Damn, maybe you needed a Stark internship.

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Stark can do anything,” Ned said, almost dreamily, closing his locker and turning back around to you, obviously glad for the change in conversation topic.

“Well, do you know if Peter is coming in today?” you asked, almost begging. Ned's shoulders deflated and he seemed visibly more uncomfortable. “I really need to talk to him, both of you really. It's about my dad.”

Ned dropped his large robotics book on his foot, and held back a yelp. You quickly bent down to pick it up for him. “Ned, are you feeling okay?”

“Whaddya mean? Of course I feel okay, freakin’ awesome actually. Why?” he asked quickly, taking his book from your outstretched hand and looking at his shoes as he walked.

“I don't know, you just seem a little jumpy,” you shrugged, watching him from the corner of your eye. He gulped.

“Nah, nah, I'm uh, just a little stressed. Yeah, stressed. About our robotics presentation today. Peter better show up,” he answered quickly, almost murmuring the last part to himself.

“Oh, don't worry, I'm sure he will,” you reassured your friend, patting his shoulder. “Peter's not the type to let you down, I'm sure.”

Ned snorted to himself. “Right.”

It was lunch before Peter Parker made an appearance, sitting down in his seat with a sigh in the middle of you and Ned having a discussion about whether or not your history teacher secretly had a foot fetish.

“I'm telling you, Y/N, he definitely has one,” Ned assured you, pointing at you with his fork after taking a large bite of chicken. He didn't bother to swallow it before he continued. “Ever notice how he looks at the floor when he talks to you, especially if you're wearing open-toed shoes? It's a thing.”

“I thought he just didn't like making eye contact with people,” you laughed, attempting to prevent yourself from spewing soda through your nose.

“Peter!” you and Ned both said at the same time, surprised by his sudden presence. You took in his appearance. His hair was messy and he had a large scrape across his left cheek. You gasped.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” you demanded, your eyes scanning over his body for any more injuries.

Peter's eyes widened and they flashed to Ned before going back to you. “Oh, it's nothing, don't worry about it...” he shrugged, opened his lunch and stuffing a sandwich in his mouth.

“Don't worry about it?” you repeated incredulously. “Peter, it looks like someone took a knife to your face.”

He kept his eyes on the table as he swallowed his bite.

“Oh, Peter's, uh, just clumsy,” Ned said quickly, slapping his friend on the back. Peter winced. “You told me you—you fell off your bike on the way home last night, right?” Peter looked at Ned with raised eyebrows.

“Oh! Yeah. Right, that's exactly what happened,” Peter nodded toward you solemnly. “I was uh, riding home after I finished up with Mr. Stark and... and my neighbor's stupid cat just ran out in front of me.”

“Yeah, and then he fell on his face,” Ned added enthusiastically. Peter narrowed his chocolate eyes.

“I think she gets that part, Ned,” he muttered.

“You must've really hit your head,” you smiled with pity. You hated how even with a scratched up face and messy hair, Peter still looked very attractive to you. And you scolded yourself for that being the first thought that ran through your mind. What were you, some stereotypical thirsty teenage girl? You pushed down the butterflies you were getting at the thought.

“Oh, I'm fine,” Peter said, looking away from you and back to his food. Were you imagining the faint pink tint in his cheeks?

“So, Y/N, you wanted to talk to us about something?” Ned inquired, nudging his best friend's shoulder. Peter suddenly sat up straighter, his expression very neutral. Your narrowed eyes went back and forth between the two before you shrugged it off.

“Yeah, actually,” you sighed, pushing your plate of cafeteria food away from you. You leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. Ned and Peter mirrored you. “You guys will never guess what happened at the hospital last night.”

“Uh, I for one have no idea,” Ned said quickly. Peter began to look uncomfortable.

“So, around two in the morning, all of these alarms start going off,” you began, hands sweating at the memory. “The whole place was going crazy, like it was the Apocalypse or something. I mean, I was asleep, and I wake up to all of this yelling and this voice going 'Intruder alert' or whatever. Long story short, someone had broken into the hospital and stole a bunch of Top Secret government files.”

“Wow, really?” Ned asked, incredible surprise etching every syllable. “That's... amazing! I've definitely never heard about that. Like at all.”

You heard a faint sound that almost sounded like a stomp, and suddenly Ned was wincing and Peter looked smug. Peter's eyebrows burrowed together, and just then you noticed a tiny spot of dirt on his forehead. “So do they know who did it?”

“That's just it,” you smiled, radiating excitement. “Peter, I overheard the head doctor talking with security in the hallway, and saw the guards on stretchers. People and guns were covered in webbing. It was Spider-Man.”

“Whaaaat?” Ned asked, but his apparent surprise seemed a bit manufactured to you. You regarded him with narrow eyes before looking to Peter again. His face was oddly unreadable.

“I also overheard them talking about a lab explosion at the main office, they said all of the files that Spider-Man took were concerning that incident,” you explained, leaning forward even more. “Do you know what that means? That's probably the accident that happened to my father. I can finally find out what happened.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked slowly, almost cautiously, and you were confused by his demeanor.

“Well, I mean...” you looked around and lowered your voice, “you're friends with Spider-Man, aren't you, Peter?” Peter and Ned exchanged a look that you didn't understand. “I'm saying that you could talk to him about what he found! Or maybe you could ask him to swing by my place again and he can tell me what's going on!”

“Right,” Peter said almost to himself, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous way. The movement caught your eye. “I mean, I guess I can try to ask him. I just don't know if it's such a great idea.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, who knows what's in those files... maybe it's something a lot bigger,” Peter replied hesitantly, and it was apparent that he didn't like talking about this subject. “Just going from what Spider-Man has told me, I mean... telling people what's going on when stuff like this happens could put them in danger.”

You stared down Peter with a mix of anger and confusion. What was the harm in him asking his web-slinging friend just to get you out of the dark, just enough to calm your family's torture, enough to sleep peacefully at night?

“Something is going on with that program, with that whole department,” you whispered determinedly, holding Peter's gaze. If you weren't so upset by Peter's response, your stomach would be a twisting tornado of butterflies right now. “I can feel it in my gut. I don't need to know every tiny detail, I just need to know enough to be able to help my dad somehow. I just need to know something.” Peter's eyes held something that you couldn't decipher, but you wanted to pull it from them. “If Spider-Man was getting involved, then that means I'm not crazy. That means something is going on. Something bad.”

Peter looked at his nearly-untouched lunch, at Ned, then back at you. Before you lost your nerve, you reached across the table and took Peter's unsuspecting hand. It was soft, warm, but strong. Peter's expression suddenly resembled a surprised puppy’s.

“Please, Peter,” you asked, squeezing his hand. His fingers slowly curled around yours in return, and the butterflies came back to your stomach in full flying force. “Please talk to Spider-Man. For me.”

Peter visibly gulped and a shy smile cracked across his face. “I... you know, I guess there's no harm in just asking...” he conceded. In a moment of unadulterated joy, you stood from your seat and crossed the table to Peter, giving him the tightest hug you could muster. Your cheek rested against his unscratched one, and you could feel him smiling.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, and his surprised arms wrapped around your small frame. Your face felt like it was one thousand degrees and the butterflies in your stomach had spread to your toes and fingertips, but you didn't care. There were few times in your life that you felt as good as you did the moment that Peter's strong arms engulfed you firmly, yet so gently.

Pt 6

Tags: @rivaea @starksparker @its-nikki-bitch @emmaelizabeth2014

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 36

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 36 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

“I was being a prideful self-absorbed dumbass and I’m gonna stop with that,” Len says, once everyone else has gone – most of them on Len's instructions, while Rip decided to continue to FBI his way around town, hoping that, as the only other person Savage might recognize, he could serve as an additional means of heightening Savage’s paranoia – and they’re alone in his room.

“I really hope Gideon records the contents of our rooms,” Mick says, crossing his arms and smirking. “I want photo-visual evidence of that.”

Len rolls his eyes. “I’ll say it in front of a camera, just for you.”

“You don’t need to,” Mick says, sobering, his smirk falling away. “I wasn’t acting all too great myself.”

Len frowns. “Being upset at me being controlling and not listening to you is pretty fair,” he points out.

“I knew I shouldn’t have promised anything to the time puppies without consulting you first,” Mick says. “I knew it, and I did it anyway, and I felt bad about doing it, so when you called me out on it, I was already on the defensive and I lashed out at you. I shouldn't have.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it ain’t,” Mick says. “You weren’t yourself.”

“I was acting like an asshole,” Len says humorlessly. “Not exactly that out of character.”

“That type of asshole is out of character for you,” Mick says. “Trust me, I know your type of asshole, and it ain’t like that. Also, you do know I don’t really hold you saving my ass against you, right?”

“Sure seemed like you did.”

“I was angry at myself for being an asshole,” Mick says. “And then at you for not telling me about the necromancer. You know I hate it when you leave stuff out.”

“I know,” Len says. “And I’m gonna try to stop with that. Can't promise I'll always succeed - but I'll try.”

“Good,” Mick says firmly. “But that still doesn’t mean I should be hitting below the belt. I’ve never once thought of our relationship as unequal, okay? You’re usually pretty good at treating me like I’m a real live person.”

“I don’t see you as different,” Len starts, then pauses. “No, that’s not right. I do. You are different. You’re the one person who’s never left me, never got used against me, never had to worry about. The one person that I thought for the longest time was safe. You couldn’t get hurt, you couldn’t die – that was my bedrock.”

“And then Cabrera happened.”

“And then Cabrera happened,” Len agrees. “You were right the first time about it. The whole thing - it knocked me loose a bit, made me paranoid. My dad hurt me, sure, whatever, it was horrifying but I'm pretty used to him pulling new horrifying things out of his hat, but Cabrera threatened you, and that freaked me out. It shook me.”

“And then you find out the immortal asshole we got recruited to fight is another medium, just like Cabrera, and you freak out even more,” Mick says, nodding. “I get it. S’no excuse for how you’ve been acting, but I get it.”

“I’ll do better,” Len says, thinking of Kendra’s little dust-up with Ray. No point to it at all, but for pride and the desire to keep the ones you care for safe. Nasty combination, and Len has it all in spades. He can't let that get between them, though. He can't.

“I will, too,” Mick says. “Specifically in noticing when you’re not in a headspace for a fight. What happened?”

“What do you mean? I’ve told you all of it.”

“You’ve given me some details, yeah, but – Lenny –” Len’s not sure whether to be relieved or concerned that they’ve moved into ‘Lenny’ territory. “– I shouldn’t have picked a fight when you were still in shock.”

“I wasn’t!”

“I checked with Gideon once I noticed,” Mick says. “You definitely were.”

That – would actually explain that weird distance that'd been surrounding him, which had slowly started to fade until he’d finally cracked through the ice to be able to feel things like proper emotions again.

Len’s been in shock before, but it’s been a while, and it’s usually when he’s been shot. It'd occurred to him a few times that it might be it, but he'd always dismissed it: he was sound in body, how could he be in shock?

Apparently, he could be.

“Must’ve been a side-effect of meeting the angel,” Len says, frowning. It’s the only thing it could’ve been – sure, he’d had escalating paranoia issues, but he’d been managing them (however badly) up until then.

“Yeeeeeah, about that,” Mick says, plopping himself down on the bed, looking about as relieved as Len feels to have gotten the touchy-feely portion of the conversation over with. “What’d you mean, angel? You ain’t the religious type, and you don’t do that much in terms of metaphor usually.”

“Well, you know how we were in deep space and I kept having a really loud ringing in my ears?”

“Yeah?”

“Stars.”

“…stars?”

“Yep. Stars. Singing. Actually, more like the ghosts of stars, apparently,” Len says. “Bright light, blue eyes, wings – maybe, I’m not sure – anyway, the ghost of a star that used to live in the place we went came to visit me.”

Mick blinks. His face is doing that thing where he can’t decide what he’s feeling or even if he’s feeling anything because he’s just so bewildered by what he just heard.

“It was weird,” Len adds.

“A ghost. Of a star?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know it was a thing either.”

"A star."

"You got it."

"A ghost of a - and it looks like an angel?"

"Yeah."

“The fuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

“To the angel, Len?!”

“He said Ezekiel did it, too!” Len protests.

“Ezekiel as in Old Testament Ezekiel?”

“The one who saw angels, yeah,” Len says, rubbing at his face a bit. He had been doing such a good job of ignoring the comparison up until now, too...

“…well,” Mick says, because really, what else is there to say? “Huh. Well then.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s really something.”

“Agreed.”

“Okay, no, now I've gotta ask. How the hell did a guy from thousands of years ago see a ghost of a star, though?” Mick asks. “Even assuming he was like you, some ancestor of yours, it still doesn't make sense. He didn’t have space travel! So how - and why - was there an angel hanging around for him to see it?”

Len feels his face goes very solemn even as his belly seizes with the old familiar anticipatory glee.

“Well, Mick,” he says with a straight a face as he can manage. “I guess the star must’ve been shooting by.”

“Shooting – goddamnit, Len, this is no time for puns.”

“I dunno, I thought that one was out of this world.”

“Len –”

“Okay, okay, so I didn’t planet out all that well; I’ll do better next time.”

“Your puns suck worse than a black hole, you dumbass.”

Len cracks a grin. That was a good one. “ I knew I married you for a reason.”

Mick smirks back. “Oh, it’s for the puns, is it?”

“Entirely,” Len agrees, looking at Mick contemplatively. He'd love to spend a bit of quality time reestablishing important marital bonds, but... “Want to bet on whether the rest of the team has managed to get in trouble yet?”

Mick rolls his eyes. “That’s a sucker’s bet.”

And, almost as if it'd been waiting for its cue, there’s a buzz on their comms – the ones Cisco gave them back in Central, meaning it was one of the old Team Flash that'd been put on their team: Jax, probably, or maybe Stein.

Len and Mick look at each other, long-suffering.

“Ten to one it’s trouble,” Mick says with a groan. Len agrees, but clicks it on anyway.

It turns out to be Stein.

“What happened?” Len asks. "What's the emergency?"

“Ah - while I understand why you might think that, in fact, nothing out of the ordinary is happening,” Stein says. “The plan is proceeding apace. We are now nearing Nanda Parbat, where Jefferson and I will be enacting our portion of the plan. Before we arrived, however, I stole away for a moment to call you.”

Len blinks. If they’re not in trouble, then what…?

“I wanted to apologize to Mr. Snart,” Stein says. “For judging him overly hastily, particularly given my knowledge of him.”

“Uh, thanks?” Len says. “I think? I mean, I’m used to it – thief, murderer, that sort of thing…”

“Not that,” Stein says. “It was made very clear to me – by Jefferson, among others – that despite your reputation, you were a good man to have on our side: intelligent, cunning, and capable. I trusted in that reputation. And yet, when you and Mr. Rory went off to have your fight in the forest and only Mr. Snart returned – I assumed the worst.”

Len and Mick share bewildered looks.

“Professor,” Mick says gently. “You – you have been told that I’m dead, right?”

“I know that,” Stein says, clearly rolling his eyes so hard it was almost audible. “Mr. Allen and his friends informed me, and Jefferson confirmed it after our bonding - and, if you recall, I did happen to witness that battle on Earth-2. I most assuredly believe in it. Indeed, however bizarre I might find it, it’s not exactly outside the realm of the teachings of Judaism – I was trained as rabbi, you know –”

“Told you it was kosher,” Len tells Mick smugly.

“No, it’s – that’s not – we’re getting away from the point here. As I was saying, hen Mr. Jefferson joined our triad, and indeed, when Mr. Snart became allied with Team Flash, I was in fact informed of Mr. Snart’s abilities and your particular iteration thereof, Mr. Rory. Despite that, I assumed that Mr. Snart had, in your fury at each other…ah…well…to be frank, Mr. Snart, I assumed that you had somehow banished Mr. Rory.”

“Oh,” Len says blankly. “I mean, I don’t really ‘banish’ ghosts the way that mediums do, all circles and spells and stuff, but I do sometimes send them away – still, that would have been a shitty thing to do in the middle of a forest in who-knows-what-era…wait. Has that been why everyone’s been so weird around me? Because they assumed I did something to Mick?”

"The others -" Stein begins.

“Len wouldn’t do something like that,” Mick objects, overriding him. "He ain't like that."

Len winces. Technically, in 2046, he had done exactly something like that, albeit with good intentions – and you know what they say about good intentions –

“Wait, hold up another sec,” he says, thinking back. “Was - was that why Rip apologized?! Because he thought he’d encouraged me to go – to Mick – for this stupid mission’s sake?!” He stands up. “You know what, I’m gonna –”

Mick grabs Len’s arm. “Down, Lenny,” he says sternly. “Let’s finish this whole business with the poltergeist kids first.”

Len grumbles, but concedes and sits back down. “Don’t worry about it, Stein,” he says into the comm, where Stein had been waiting in worried silence. “We haven’t worked together all that long and you don’t have personal experience with me; you mostly know what you read in the papers, which ain't exactly complimentary, and beyond that you’ve just got Jax’s word for it. Makes sense you’d make a hasty leap.”

“I appreciate your understanding,” Stein says.

“In the future, though – I don’t turn on crew that don’t turn on me, and you’re crew. Especially since you’ve got Jax in your bond. So if you’ve got any questions, just come talk to me direct; I won’t take offense. And good luck on your mission.”

"Seconded, Professor," Mick adds.

“I will,” Stein says warmly. “And thank you both.”

He clicks off.

“Well, no trouble in that camp,” Len tells Mick, shaking his head. He can't believe that anyone who knows him would think that, but he guesses that this crew hasn't really had a good chance to get to know him. And he has been acting pretty out of character... “Let’s go see what trouble everyone else is up to.”

Surprisingly little, it turns out: Gideon reports that Kendra and Ray have taken great care to always be seen in public areas, fighting, and that Savage has been repeatedly spotted all but stalking them – specifically Kendra – quite obviously; people have already started to notice, so much so that Ray’s starting to be worried that if they don’t deal with the problem soon, the nosy neighbors might start the ruckus themselves.

Gideon also reports that Rip is pulling off an increasingly credible FBI agent, and connect them to his comms for them to listen in. Turns out he even took the cue from Len’s earlier comment to spin a story about being undercover in the Cold War and the British accent just sticking. The sheriff had been pretty wowed by that.

Of course, then he asked what was the deal with someone like Len – using an entirely unnecessary slur, of course – working for the FBI.

“He’s one of our informants,” Rip lies.

“Making him feel better by giving him a badge,” the sheriff says, nodding. “Got it. They've started getting all uppity, nowadays, won't do anything unless they feel catered to...”

Rip suddenly gets a lot of cooperation, but he spends the entire time sounding like he’s smelled something bad.

It does a surprising amount to cheer Len up, actually. Okay, Rip might sometimes be an idiot captain making incredibly stupid assumptions sometimes, but he’s part of Len’s crew, and he means well - his apology and acknowledgement from earlier showed it. That counts for something.

Len supposes he can forgive him, if only because Mick is laughing quite so hard about it.

“I do so love Gideon’s comms,” Len says happily once Rip is out of earshot of the Sheriff. “Gideon, tell me I can have a recording of that?”

“Captured, Mr. Snart. Would you like me to produce a hard copy file for you?”

“Nah, digital's fine. Email it to me; I want to treasure Rip's Very First Experience With Systemic Racism forever.”

“Your sense of humor is infantile," Mick says.

“Says the guy on the floor.”

“I’m laughing at your expressions. Better than a comedy show.”

“Uh-huh. I believe you.”

“You know, I always appreciated that in a partner: the love, the trust, the lack of condescending assholery…”

"And yet you stick by me. Have you checked your own sense of humor recently?"

“Listen, you…” Mick says with a smirk, starting to reach for Len.

The comms crackle back to life just when it was starting to get interesting. "We've got the Lazarus water!" Jax exclaims. "Also, the League may or may not think I'm a phoenix. Or an angel. Or whatever they call firebird-angel-things here. I made cawing noises, it was fun."

"Congrats," Len says, eyes suddenly drawn by instinct to one of the other screens where Gideon is showing the locations of the various crew members on a map, along with dots to signify other people. "Come back, double-quick. I think Savage is getting tired of waiting."

"On it, boss."

"Mick, look," Len says, gesturing at the screen.

"How did Haircut and Chickadee end up getting lured over to the sanitarium past nightfall?" Mick demands. "She decide she wanted to go up against Savage alone after all?"

"Possible," Len says, jabbing at the screen to try to get it to go to video. Luckily, Ray had been into the whole button cam idea, so there was one. "Huh, nope. Looks they have an escort. An armed escort."

"Is that Savage? No – it’s that sheriff."

“Yep,” Len says.

"He's been doing a lot of escorting for Savage," Mick says darkly.

"That may be because one of the afflicted boys is his son," Gideon says.

"Didn't know that, but it makes sense. Savage probably told him about the experiments but made it out like they were a cure, not the disease," Len says, nodding. He activates the comms. "Rip, plan's off. Ray and Kendra are being dragged into the sanitarium. Meet you there?"

"I'll be there at once," Rip replies. "Bring the Waverider; we may need her."

The comms click off. Len blinks. "He knows we can't drive, right?"

"I can instruct you, Mr. Snart," Gideon says.

"Teach Mick," Len says. "I don't drive."

With Mick in the Captain's seat – Len's gotta say, he likes the look on him, like a very muscular Kirk or Sisko, and obviously some Picard in the haircut – they land in the parking lot by the sanitarium quickly enough.

Ray and Kendra have started stalling.

"I don't know what your problem is," Kendra says, her voice audible over the comms. "You come out of nowhere – force me and my husband here – and for no reason!"

"No reason?" Savage laughs. "My dear Chay-Ara, we are surely beyond that now?"

"I don't know who this Chay-Ara is," Ray says, best Brad Majors impression firmly intact. "But don't you dare talk to my wife that way!"

"I must admit, you are something of a surprise," Savage says. "I was expecting – shall we say – another."

"We don't know what you're talking about," Kendra insists.

"Don't you?" Savage asks. "Let us look in your purse, here –"

"Don't you dare – oh!" There's the sound of a slap.

"You bastard," Ray says with real anger. "How dare you hit her?!"

"That was ill-mannered of you, sheriff," Savage says, his voice slick. "I would advise you not to repeat the action – and to apologize to the lady."

"But –"

"Now," Savage says, his voice pointed.

"Sorry," the sheriff says, clearly unrepentant but cowed by Savage.

Len and Mick creep closer to the room, turning the corner and moving as silently as they can. They can now see the room – Ray is handcuffed to a chair, Kendra is on the ground clutching her cheek, Savage is holding her purse and glaring at the sheriff.

Kendra lunges for her purse, only for Savage to grab her by the shoulder and throw her into the table.

"Looking for this?" he laughs, pulling out the dagger. "You thought you could come here with this false marriage, these false smiles, and think I would not realize you had remembered yourself? Even after my dagger goes missing? You must think me a fool, Chay-Ara."

"Nah, just moderately stupid," Len says and fires the cold gun.

Savage dodges, and the cold beam freezes only his shoulder, which he takes with a grunt.

"Sorry to disrupt the party," Mick says, and steps forward with his heat gun, aiming at the sheriff, who is trying to draw his gun.

He manages it, only to promptly drop it, yowling, in the face of a blast from Mick's heat gun. Metal is a very good conductor of heat.

"Boys!" Savage calls. "To me!"

And then through the door burst the – Len doesn't know what to call them. Half-lives, poltergeists in the bodies of the living. Boys with their eyes whited out and glowing, faces twisted in snarls of rage, unspeaking, angry.

"Oh, let me at one!" Loraine calls, darting forward. Len has only empowered her a little; she's nowhere near the visual spectrum, but it makes the boy flinch back anyway.

Len grins.

The kids can see the ghosts.

"Come here," Len says, his voice echoing, a single command.

And they come. Loraine's ancestors, her tribe and their mortal enemies, those who more recently died – accidents and murders and suicides – natural deaths come too quickly –

And, of course, the ghosts of the boys' victims.

That certainly gets them to flinch, faces twisting in terror, hands and invisible ripping claws going wide, hitting walls, beds, chairs, but missing people.

"And what are you?" Savage says, his eyes alight, fixed on Len, intent. "Something old, perhaps? Or something new?"

"Something borrowed, something blue," Len says. "Don't you know Hollywood-style wedding traditions?"

He fires his gun again.

Savage dodges again, more successfully this time, and throws a knife that he's pulled from somewhere. And then he tears off that lab coat of his, revealing the answer: he's wearing what look like dozens of them.

Len ducks behind a ripped-up table, pushing it onto its side just in time for two of Savage's knives to embed themselves into where he last was.

"Ray! Kendra!"

"I have the dagger!" she shouts.

"You'll never have a chance to use it, my dear," Savage calls, and throws one of his knives, knocking the dagger out of her hand.

Then he aims at Ray, who's shrinking down, and catches him halfway through the process, knocking him head over heels.

"Ray!" Kendra shouts, diving for the dagger and snatching it up again, but turning helplessly towards Ray instead of rushing at Savage.

"Boys, get him!" Savage orders.

Two of the boys leap forward, eyes intent, hands outstretched –

"Not today, suckers," Sara says from the door, and hits them with a spray from a water gun.

The boys stagger back, shrieking, but even as Len watches, the white light fades out of their eyes. Their bodies swell with life – real life – their spirits, disjointedly put back the wrong way, turning and slipping home, clicking back into place like puzzle pieces.

Damn, but Len loves to be right.

"Dad?" one of the boys says, looking at the sheriff, still nursing his burnt hand. "Dad!"

"Son –"

They embrace.

"You're still a racist dickbag," Kendra tells him, then looks around. Sara is spraying the water on the remaining boys. "Damnit, no! Where'd Savage go?"

"Out the window," Mick says grimly, picking himself up. "He knocked me back – nearly got a knife in my gun – and went out. Want me to follow?"

Len shakes his head. Not alone, definitely not.

Mick shrugs, having already clearly assumed that that would be the answer.

"Great," Kendra says, looking disappointed. "So we're back where we started."

Ray resizes himself and touches her shoulder. "We stopped the murders, and we've got the dagger now," he reminds her. "And, hey – you got to see Savage run from you. Not bad, huh?"

Kendra smiles. "That part was pretty good."

"It's of no matter," Rip says, standing at the door. "We will get him the next time. Savage's reaction here shows that the plan we were working with had a fair chance of being successful – he was overconfident and foolish." He smiles. "He got lucky this time. Next time, he won't."

"You bet your ass he won't," Mick growls.

"Oh, Mick," Kendra laughs. "The journey hasn't been the same without you."

"Indeed," Rip says dryly. "In fact, I was wondering if you'd explain that."

"Nothing to explain," Mick says, shrugging.

"You just don't like talking," Jax tells him with a laugh.

They're all starting to relax, so naturally that's when one of the ghosts Len called up from the sanitarium says, "A second ship is approaching."

Len and Mick both straighten up, alarmed.

"Gideon, report. Is someone coming?" Len asks.

No reply.

"Something's wrong with Gideon," Mick says.

"What?!" Rip exclaims, and they all rush out.

It's good that they do, too, because they hit the Stormtroopers Three dead on, trying to board the Waverider.

Len hoists his gun and bares his teeth.

He's starting to get really sick of these assholes.

Luckily, repelling the Stormtroopers Three from the Waverider turns out not to be that bad. Kendra takes wing, dagger in hand, and dives at them from above, while Len and Mick use their guns to scare them off the ship. With Sara, Ray and Rip covering their retreat, it’s easy enough to keep the Three at bay while they’re backing onto the Waverider, and then Gideon gets them off the ground.

“They’re no Savage, that’s for sure,” Ray says with pleasure as the Waverider makes the jump, soaring into the green of the time stream.

“Indeed,” Rip says. “I think that we –”

A blast shook the ship.

“What the hell?” Jax demands, running to the window. “It’s – guys, it’s those assholes again!”

“Already?” Kendra exclaims.

“Gideon, evade!” Rip exclaims. “Everyone, strap in, we’ll fire on them, and then we’ll do a quick series of jumps to make sure they can’t follow us further –”

Len was under the impression that time-jumping was nauseating. That has nothing on a lot of time-jumping in a short sequence of time.

“I hate this,” Mick moans.

He has no place to complain - it isn't going to kill him, he's already dead. Len's stomach, on the other hand, might decide that this is the fatal blow...

“I think we’ve lost them, Captain,” Gideon reports.

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

“Very well,” Rip says. “Gideon, please put in the following coordinates –”

“Wait, where are we going now?” Sara asks.

“A small town called Salvation, in South Dakota,” Rip says. “In, ah, 1871.”

Everybody stares at him.

"Remind me again, Rip, why do we think Savage will be in the Wild West?" Len drawls. "Seemed like he was a fair bit more of an urban kinda a guy, at least to my eyes."

"At the moment, it's not Savage that's the problem," Rip says. "It's the Hunters."

It takes a minute for everyone to realize who he's talking about.

"The Stormtroopers Three?" Jax asks.

"Larry, Curly and Moe?" Mick adds.

"We're running from them?" Sara asks indignantly. "We just kicked their asses! Twice!"

"But they disabled our shields before we arrived," Rip says darkly. "A few more solid hits, and they'll shatter. We cannot afford a direct engagement until they are repaired, and the fact that they were able to catch up to us so quickly suggests that they've obtained updated technology from the Time Masters which we will need to account for."

"And the Wild West?" Len asks again. "Why there?"

"It's a time pocket," Rip says. "We'll be safe from detection there."

He's treated to a handful of skeptical looks, but that's what he deserves, given that he'd previously been talking about how safe the time stream was. Even after the first time the Stormtroopers Three had very nearly caught them in the time stream after their first attack failed...

"They weren’t aiming to get to us so quickly before, even without the tech, and they were really shooting to kill this time," Mick says. "Why'd they change it up now?"

"The bounty on our heads may have been changed from alive to dead or alive," Rip says. "Going to the time pocket will help us rest and recover.” He scowls at them. “Especially since certain people on this crew have rejected my other proposal for where to go.”

“We’re still not going to the future to murder baby Hitler,” Ray says. “We all agreed. Every one of us, right before we went to the ‘50s. We’d be sorry, but – we’re really not.”

“Not a one of us signed up for child murder,” Kendra agrees.

“You wouldn’t be –” Rip starts.

“We’re not aiding and abetting child murder either, Rip,” Sara says. “The vote was unanimous against you. Drop it already.”

“We could just use the time period to attack Savage, as we know he’s there,” Rip says stiffly.

“Except you’ve already explained about the extensive defenses Kasnia has surrounding its leader,” Stein says. “Savage would never give us the opportunity, which would mean that you would propose returning to your original plan. I'm afraid we must continue to object, Captain Hunter.”

“Remember, Rip – teamwork means working together,” Jax reminds him. “Besides, not even you’re sure whether you could actually do the kid in.”

Rip makes a face, not disagreeing. He's not really a very good killer, not personally, and by now they all know it. “Very well, I concede the argument. That doesn’t change the fact that we need to go in for repairs somewhere, and the time pocket in Salvation is likely the best place for it. Please strap yourselves down or return to your rooms; this jump will be particularly bumpy."

Mick glances at Len and jerks his head to their room, clearly wanting to talk about something. Len nods and follows.

"You gonna be okay?" Mick asks once they're alone.

Len frowns at him. "I should think so," he says. "We ain't going up against Savage this time, just going to go to ground for a bit, and I hardly think we'll run into any necromancers or mediums or angels there."

"I was more thinking about regular run-of-the-mill ghosts," Mick says dryly. "1871 ain't too far back from 1865, you know, and a hell of a lot of Civil War vets went out west, and probably took their ghosts with 'em."

Len purses his lips. That’s a good point. "We'll warn Kendra and Jax about that, too; the living are probably just as racist as the dead. You think there'll be a lot of ghosts? Surely South Dakota’s too far out."

"I think the Civil War rousted up a lot of unquiet dead," Mick says. "Wars always do. You shoulda seen the years right after World War II."

Len makes a face. It's been months and months since his last serious unquiet dead attack; he's gotten powerful enough to draw friendlies to his side almost automatically, and he barely has to remember to give them enough to make them happy. But yeah, the Civil War – he can see that giving rise to a lot of very angry, very unpleasant ghosts.

"How do you want to handle, then?" he asks. "Want me to stay behind on the ship?"

Mick considers it, and Len lets him. He's excited to see the Wild West, but he's none too interested in the Civil War. American media paints them so differently that he'd forgotten they happened at basically same time.

"No, I don't think that'll be necessary," Mick finally says, nodding. "I'm pretty good at watching your ass –"

"You're my husband; I should hope so," Len quips.

"Mind out of the gutter, boss; I'm being serious. I think it'll be okay, but maybe you ought to take extra care in getting some friendlies right off the bat, more than usual, I mean."

Len nods. "Fair. You know, I hadn't really noticed it until I was repelling ghosts in the ‘50s – all except Loraine – but I'm pretty sure I used to be a lot better at remembering their names. The ghosts, I mean. You know, knowing something about 'em, knowing what it is they want, that sorta thing. Now I barely even ask 'em what they're called. Really ought to fix that."

Mick looks amused. "You do that, boss."

"What?" Len protests. "It's a thing, it's been happening."

"Of course it's been happening, boss," Mick says. "There are more ghosts."

"So?"

"So a general's a lot less likely to be on one-on-one terms with his men than a sergeant is, that's all I'm saying."

"I'm trying to avoid too much – generalship. Remember?" Len reminds Mick.

"Oh, I remember," Mick says. "I still want at least one friendly watching your back in the West."

"I'll look for one, or better yet, more than one," Len says, still somewhat annoyed by Mick's blithe dismissal of the issue. Sure, Len isn't always the best with names – he has some face-name matching issues that he tends to cover with nicknames, just like Mick does - but he used to at least make an effort with the ghosts. He always felt it was the least he could do, what with him asking them for favors immediately thereafter.

He quietly resolves to do better.

Of course, then they change into era-appropriate gear (flintlocks! Be still Len's grew-up-down-the-street-from-a-historical-reenactment-ground heart!) and go out into the streets and he is promptly flooded with ghosts coming to take a gawk at him.

"Uh, hi," Len says to them. "What're your names?"

"SarahGraceTheordoreReenaMacyWhiteDoeJamesLon-"

Len throws up a hand to stem the tide.

Mick is sniggering.

Len glares at him, then looks at the ghosts. "Uh, you, Quaker-woman and, uh, you, uh – what tribe are you?"

"I am of the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe," the man says. "But I was baptized James."

"...is that your preferred name?"

The guy looks taken aback. "It will do," he says. “Calling me Diving Hawk just makes me think my mother is cross with me.”

"Well, wouldn’t want that. Whatever floats your boat. Quaker-woman?"

"Grace," she says. "And I’m no Quaker. I'm a follower of Joseph Smith."

"All right, then," Len says, wondering why that sounds familiar. And why Mick's sniggers have intensified. "Can you two be my go-betweens with the others?"

"We would be delighted to," Grace says. She's only a moderately powerful ghost, a weaker poltergeist, though she has a look about her that makes Len think she's probably one of his more violent friendlies. "What would you want them to do?"

"Me want them – no, no. Nothing at the minute," Len says. "Just, you know, if you or any of them want life to get something done –"

“Oh, yes,” Grace says. “If we –”

"Maybe not now," Mick interjects. "The other Legends are coming, and they're looking bitchy."

"Later," Len tells his ghosts, who nod and float away to talk to the others, presumably about Len’s offer.

Sara's in the lead. She marches straight up to Len and says, "Rip's not coming."

"What? Why? I’d have thought – y’know – with the duster and the revolver –"

“Yeah, you’re not alone,” Ray says, scowling.

"He says it's for repairs, but we kept up on him and it turns out he had a bad encounter in this time period, or something like that. Wouldn’t give details." Sara snorts. "He's hiding something. Again."

"He's having real trouble with this whole team thing," Mick comments. “Funny, it being his idea and all.”

"Yeah, well. I promised we'd behave, but I'm thinking we can 'behave' ourselves at the local tavern. All the movies make out like it's the best place to gather intel anyway."

"Sure, intel," Mick guffaws. "That's what you call it?"

"What do you call it?"

"Trouble, that’s what I call it.”

She grins. "I'll settle for getting a feel of the old West. You two in?"

"Sure," Len says.

"Bet I can outdrink you both," Sara says.

"I'll take that bet," Mick says, brightening.

"He cheats," Len warns Sara. It's unfair to drink with a dead man, though he thinks Sara might be able to swing it.

"I'll deal," she says blithely.

The town they go to is small, wretched and dusty. The tavern is the liveliest joint in town, and that's a low, low bar, given that the alternative appears to be sitting around coughing up dust and possibly watching weeds grow.

Len has a brand new respect for Saints and Sinners.

Of course, then Grey cheats at cards and some asshole tries to draw on him.

Len shoots the gun out of the man’s hand.

"Sonofabitch!" the man shouts, clutching at his hand.

"That coulda been between your eyes," Len drawls disinterestedly. "Now either sit down and put up or get out."

"How dare you?" the man shouts. His face is flushed a deep red, his mouth flecked white with spit. Len is somewhat concerned about accidentally killing him via triggering an apoplexy. "Do you know who I am?"

"No," Len says. "Don't much care, either."

"I'm one of Stillwater's!"

Must be a local gang.

"Pass along my condolences, will you?" Len says.

"Your – what?"

Len has a decision to make. This is about to turn into a fight - depending on what he says, he can either calm it down or rev it up.

Though, to be fair, after the last few weeks he’s had, Len could use a nice, uncomplicated bar fight right about now.

Oh, what the hell. He didn’t promise to behave.

Len makes a show of sighing and puts down his cards. "Tell your boss," he says slowly, "that I'm sorry he has to deal with such a dumbass snot-nosed horse-fucker as yourself on his crew."

The guy goes for the lamp on the table and throws it at Len.

Len shoots it out of the air, just to show off.

Then half the room jump to their feet and three of them rush at Len.

Naturally, that's when Mick gives a big old holler and rushes them, Sara at his side.

Damn, but Len loves a good bar fight.

"That was kinda fun," Jax says when they're done and the rest of the fighters are either unconscious or fled. Even Stein got into the fun, grabbing a chair and swinging it around like a maniac.

"If by fun you mean trouble," a harsh voice growls from the door.

Len looks. It's a man in a grey Confederate uniform, a nasty scar on his face, and a scowl.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the guy asks.

“No,” Ray says, stepping forward. “We’re from out of town. Uh. Way out of town.” He grins.

The guy sneers. “Yeah, of course you are. Why don’t you lot tell me where you’re really from?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” Stein says.

“Lemme rephase,” the guy says. “Tell me when y’all are from.”

They stare at him.

“You stand out like a dog in a manger,” he says with a sneer. “Now where is he?”

“Who?” Sara asks.

“Rip Hunter,” the man says. “I’ve got words that need saying to him.”

“You know,” Jax says. “I think we’ve just figured out why Rip wanted to stay on board.”

“C’mon,” Sara says. “Let’s go back to the ship.”

“What, with him?” Len asks doubtfully. He doesn't like that uniform or what it stands for.

“Rip’ll know what to do,” Sara says firmly.

Turns out that Sara's right and he's wrong, though: Rip’s expression when he sees the man is priceless.

The man – Jonah Hex by name, it appears – starting the conversation by accusing Rip of stealing his coat?

Even better.

[demonicheadcanons]

RFA and V and Saeran being cheated on by MC

(AN: Remember, cheating is wrong guys. Don’t cheat on your partner(s). I’ve never been in the position of being cheated on, nor have I ever cheated on anyone, so I’m sorry if I write this at all poorly or mis-portray it in any way.

I should note that after each incident in all of these, MC leaves the RFA, or is just straight up kicked out of it. They will not stand for anything like this to happen.)

(Edit: This is very, very long. It’ll take some time to read through these haha. It’s just under 7200 words overall)

Zen

He wanted to trust you

But you were never at home any more. You were constantly on your phone at work, and you seemed to have very little time to spend with him nowadays. You blamed it on your managerial duties, but he knew you were much more organised than that, because just two months ago you had made a rota showing exactly when you would do work so that the two of you had free time to spend together

You’d disappear at night and would show up half-drunk in the morning, acting as if nothing had happened, and he was starting to get scared. His trust faltered and he didn’t really know what to do, not being a particularly confrontational person, especially seeing as he loved you so much he didn’t want to even think you could be doing anything behind his back

One day he decides to ask you what’s up, if everything is okay, but you swear up and down everything is fine, and he relaxes a bit, because surely his MC would never lie to him?

But then one day he’s dragged out to spend time with Seven and Yoosung (Zen was acting completely uncharacteristically, retreating into himself, lacking any real confidence). And then he sees you sitting in the café, giggling as the person across from you leans across the table to give you a quick kiss

Seven had noticed as soon as they had walked in, but Yoosung was still clueless. Seven was trying to get him and Zen out of the café, but Zen wasn’t having any of it

“Hey babe, you weren’t at work today,” he calls, walking over to you. You jolted back from the person you were sitting with, and stare at him, eyes wide with fear, almost looking upset, but mainly just guilty. “Hey, who’s this? You should’ve told me you wanted to go out to a café babe, I would’ve totally loved to come with you.”

You sit blushing and scared, unsure of what to do, as Seven and Yoosung walk up. Yoosung looks terrified now, looking anywhere but at MC. People are starting to quiet down a bit to listen in to what’s happening, many of them recognising Zen

Seven looks really, really pissed off, but he’s trying to diffuse the situation by getting Zen out of there. Zen stands his ground and glares at you and the person you’re with

“What do you mean, ‘babe’?” the person asks, glancing between Zen and you, clearly just pretending to be clueless about the situation, and Zen picks up on it immediately

“Oh, don’t even start. Everyone knows we’re dating, it’s been spread about everywhere,” Zen growls, lowering his voice so as not to cause too much of a scene. You tries to get up and raises your hands defensively, but Zen just takes a step back

“I tried everything to make you happy. I guess you’ll just never be satisfied with anything,” he tells you, turning on his heel. Before he leaves, he turns back and, although he’ s still angry, he just smiles at you. “You can come collect your stuff within this next week. After that, I’m throwing it all out.”

And then he leaves, and he just breaks. Seven and Yoosung rush him to Seven’s car, where he just starts sobbing and he curls up into himself and won’t speak for a long time. He loved you so much, how could you do this to him? Was he not good enough? He had dedicated so much of his time, love, and attention to you, and yet...

The look in your eyes when you had kissed that other person, he hadn’t seen that look in over a month. You had been growing more and more distant from him, he should’ve known

And almost as if he can read Zen’s thoughts, Seven turns around and tells him, “It’s not your fault, it’s yours, okay? You couldn’t have prevented this, nor could you have found out about it any earlier. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Zen just nods and fights to regain his composure. He��s an actor, he can put on a happy face and pretend everything is okay, and no one would ever be able to see how broken he had just become inside

Yoosung

He was sitting playing LOLOL with his headphones on when you had gotten up and left the room, talking into your phone quickly and quietly. He couldn’t make out the words, you knew this, and so he just assumed you were taking a standard phone call

Until he saw that little smirk on your face as you glanced back at him, unaware he was watching you as you left. He smiled casually at you, and you quickly smiled back. Everything was fine

Right?

He messaged his guild, telling them he’d be right back, that he just needed to go talk to his partner, and then silently removed his headphones and got up

Surely he was just being paranoid, and everything was okay, but he was getting more and more nervous as he got closer and closer to the door to your shared bedroom. He put his ear up to it and listened, feeling guilty for eavesdropping, but he had to be sure things were okay

“Babe, I told you, you can’t call me when I’m at home. What if Yoosung finds out about us?.. Yeah, I will, I will... I love you, I promise, it’s just not easy because we’re married...”

You were talking in a hushed voice into your phone. He swallowed hard and opened the door, tears already forming in his eyes, but he was more angry than anything else in that moment

“MC... who are you talking to?” he asked, studying you carefully for anything to tell him that what he heard wasn’t real, that you were his with all your heart

But you just looked scared and guilty. A silence followed, and it seemed to drag on forever as Yoosung felt the tiny cracks slowly and steadily form across his heart, one by one, each sending a wave of pain through his body

“Get out.”

It’s barely a whisper when he speaks, but he knows from the look on your face, that pained look, that you heard him. How dare you act as if he’s hurt you, after what he just heard

“Yoosung, sweetheart... don’t do this,” you tried to beg, but he was done

“I said get out, MC. You have half an hour to pack whatever you need for the time being, you can come and get the rest of your stuff some other time, next week or something. Just... just get out of my sight, okay?!”

He turns and storms out of the room, fighting to keep the tears at bay, quickly wiping away the few that spill over his eyelids and run down his cheeks. He gets his phone and texts Seven, asking him to come over in about an hour or so

You follow along behind him for a little bit, begging him to just listen and telling him you love him and you’re sorry, but you quickly realise he doesn’t actually give a shit and that he’s counting down the minutes until you leave

You stand at the door with a suitcase in one hand and your bag in the other, staring at him nervously, biting your lip. He doesn’t even glance up at you, not until after he hears the door shut behind you. And then he waits until he hears you walk away. And then he bursts into tears, sitting at his desk, his arms crossed on it and supporting his head

He hears the door open not long later. Only you, him and Seven have a key to the place. He quickly wipes his eyes and looks up to see Seven looking at him, clearly very concerned

He drops the bag he’s holding on the sofa and in a second he has his arms wrapped around Yoosung in a tight hug, telling him it’s okay if he needs to cry, and asking if he can explain what’s wrong (“but it’s okay if you can’t right now. I’m here for you.”)

Seven stays with him for the next week, and when you come back to get your things, he stands firmly by Yoosung, stopping you from trying to come up with some kind of excuse for your actions

He even invites Yoosung to move in with him and Saeran, telling him it’d be so cool for the three of them to live together. He could use his special gaming equipment to play LOLOL (though god knows Yoosung doesn’t need to play any more of that – he’s barely showered or eaten in the last week, he’s just sat at his computer blankly playing LOLOL. Even his guild noticed something was up because he just seemed to be barely functioning)

Seven’s there for him every step of the way, and Yoosung knows this, but he struggles to pull himself together. He avoids all the places the two of you used to go together, gets rid of any photos of you together, and just breaks inside completely. He becomes a shell for a while before finally moving in with Seven and Saeran and returning to his old self a bit, with help from all the RFA members, but there’s still a pain there when he thinks about you. He feels as if he’s not enough for anyone anymore, and avoids dating for a long time, feeling like a toy that’s been chewed up and thrown away

Jaehee

(I’m not so sure how to write her yet, sorry if this is really OOC)

She notices you act odd around this one person who comes into the café every week

They start coming daily, and you spend longer and longer talking with them. You seem to form several inside jokes with them

Jaehee trusts you wholeheartedly and doesn’t think much of it, and she’s actually happy that you’re making such close friendships with customers

Actually tells you this to your face, ignoring that slight bit of guilt that shows in your eyes. It’s nothing, you’re probably just embarrassed by her compliments

But then you just seem to be getting closer and closer to this one person in particular, going so far as to touch each other casually at times, and even though it’s just light taps on the arms or shoulders, Jaehee can feel herself start to get uncomfortable

She isn’t sure what to do or what she’s feeling, and she wants to stay professional with the others so she doesn’t bring it up to anyone and just lets it fester

And then one day she’s out stocking up a few things for the house so that she can make you both something nice to eat after a long week of work, and she sees you with that one customer. Maybe you two just bumped into each other?

And then she notices you’re holding hands

And then she sees you lean in for a kiss

She turns around and leaves. When you get back to the apartment later, everything is all set and packed for you to leave, and she’s sitting with his arms crossed, staring at a blank TV and waiting for you to arrive. When you walk into the room, she calmly stands up and turns to face you, straightening down her skirt with her hands

“Hello, MC,” she says coldly, the warmth she had come to develop when around you completely gone. “I’ve packed your things for you. I hope your new partner allows you to move in with them, because you certainly aren’t staying here.”

You just stare at her, acting confused, but she stares back, calmly and coldly. She isn’t taking any nonsense, and she isn’t changing her mind on this

“Oh, and don’t bother coming to work on Monday. Or ever again, really,” she adds, turning away and sitting back down. “We can sort out any legal issues later, but for now, I want you to leave.”

She faces the other way until you leave, until the door closes, until the tears start spilling and she shuts her eyes tight, hugging herself and praying for this to all be a dream. She isn’t sure who to turn to, and she spends the next day on her own watching Zen’s musicals before actually messaging him and explaining what’s up

He comes over immediately, and the two sit on her sofa, just close enough for comfort but not close enough to be touching. He gets her to explain the situation, and then tells her that she mainly needs to remember it’s not her fault, and that it’s impossible to be able to know. It was great of her to have trusted you, and it was your fault for breaking that trust

She puts on a brave face and tells customers that you simply quit when they ask where you went, but they seem to be able to tell that something has happened. The person you cheated on her with never shows up again, and you quietly sort out all the legal issues over short phone calls and e-mails. The rest of the RFA find out about what happened, and Jaehee finds it entertaining when they have a whole chat just dedicated to telling her she’s great and that you’re a jerk for cheating on her

Zen does everything he can to bring her confidence back up, and over time it helps, but she can’t ignore the pain in her chest whenever she’s reminded of you. She still has days where she just feels empty, staring into the distance, unable to truly focus on anything. Eventually she moves, relocating the store and such so that she can change things up, getting rid of any reminders of you. She doesn’t see you around anymore, and she stops talking to you, and slowly she recovers

Jumin

He notices right away when you begin to grow more distant, and he asks you about it, but you brush him off. You go out a lot more now, and he gets worried for your safety, because there could still be people out there after you

So one day he sends out a bodyguard to follow along behind you, making sure you don’t notice, just so he can be sure that you are safe (and also that you’re not cheating on him, because he would definitely be worried about that – he’s scared he isn’t and never will be good enough for you)

The body guard comes back before you with a sour look on his face. He holds up his phone, showing pictures of you with someone else, laughing and having fun and holding hands and kissing

Jumin asks him to print the pictures out for him, before thanking him and asking him for some time to be alone. The guard asks what they should do about you, but he just tells him to let you in as normal and pretend all is okay.

He sits on the sofa with his head in his hands before texting Jaehee, asking if she can reschedule his meetings for today and tomorrow. She doesn’t seem happy about it, but he just texts ‘please, Jaehee’, and she seems to get that something is up and tells him to take care of himself, and that she will attend in his place where possible

He sits there for what feels like forever until he hears the door open, and hears you call his name. When you get to the room you look so happy and giddy, and he just turns around a gives you the coldest, saddest look you’ve ever seen. Your face falls, and you start to sweat and glance around

“Is something wrong, Jumin?” you ask innocently, approaching him slowly

He raises a hand, signalling for you to stop where you are, and stands up himself. He walks over close to you, pushes the printed photos into your hands, and glares at you as you look down at them and take a step back from him when you realise what they are

“Jumin... how did you get these photos?”

You look so scared and nervous and he is torn in two, half of him wanting to pretend nothing happened and protect you and make sure you’re okay, the other half bubbling with rage and wanting to just yell at you. However, he takes a deep breath and calms himself, knowing he must remain as civil as possible

“You could have told me you were unhappy, MC,” he begins, staring you in the eyes the entire time he speaks, seemingly unfazed, although you can see the little bit of pain in his eyes that he doesn’t have the energy to mask. “I would have done anything for you, you know that, and if things weren’t working out, you could have left. You are no different from everyone my father tries to get me to be with, using me for your own personal joys and ignoring how I feel. And you thought I would put up with that?”

“Jumin, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, MC. You clearly meant to. You don’t just accidentally cheat on someone. You put in a conscious effort to do this, to sneak out and to distance yourself from me. I have noticed the change in behaviour, that is why I had you observed today, and I was right. Now, we need to explain housing arrangements and such, because you can’t stay here, and you need to explain the situation to them. I assume they know about us being together?”

You nod quietly and he pushes past you and leaves the room, returning with a large suitcase which he pushes into your hands. “You have precisely one hour to pack up. You can stay tonight and even tomorrow night in a guest room if necessary if you cannot find anywhere else to stay, but you need to leave as soon as possible. I will not be accommodating for you any longer. You also may want to think about finding a job to support yourself, but maybe they will do that for you.”

And then he leaves you standing there in the doorway, quickly contacting a guard to come and watch over you as you pack up and to show you to your new temporary room. He goes and stands in his garden, staring off into the sky. After a bit, he calls V and explains the situation to him, unable to put a word on how he actually feels inside. The dark, rotten feeling that makes him feel hollow. The anger is still there, but it is weakened and he feels tired. V talks to him for quite some time, without anything much really being said between the two – Jumin was never one to talk all that much, and V wanted to give him the space he needed to recover, the silence to let him think

V offered to come over, but Jumin politely declined and instead decided he would focus all his time and energy on working. He called Jaehee and avoided any questions about how he was doing, saying that he could actually make it to the meetings tomorrow, and that if there was any more work to be done he would happily do it. Jaehee was sure something was up when he also suggested a few ideas for more cat projects, but said nothing of it and wished him well instead, telling him to get a good rest

He couldn’t sleep the entire night, and just wrapped up warm and stayed in his garden, staring out into the sky and trying to think, trying to feel anything other than empty and hurt and lonely. It had been a while since he had been so truly lonely that he was scared by it

He worked and worked and worked over the next while, long after you had moved out and gone on to continue your own life without him. He worked so hard that everyone was getting concerned – especially the RFA members, as he never showed up in the chat rooms anymore – and yet he still couldn’t get rid of these dark, indescribable feelings he was experiencing. He hated it. He felt ashamed, disgusted, betrayed, and so on, and he couldn’t get rid of it

He eventually began to settle into a better pattern, no longer overworking himself but ensuring he constantly had his thoughts occupied by something, whether it be with planning the RFA parties, or making up new ideas for cat projects, or his work. If he spent even a moment alone with his thoughts he became overwhelmed, and he had even ended up breaking things in his frustration at times when it became far too much for him to handle

He felt like such a failure. He had loved you so much and he had lost you so easily, and he just could never get over that

Seven/Saeyoung

Oh boy

He had been so scared of losing you to the agency, worried that they would come after you to get back at him, that he had gotten really, overly protective. He knew he was probably smothering you, and he was trying to loosen up a bit

You started leaving once a week, the same time every week, and he told himself things would be fine and that you were okay. But he couldn’t be sure. So, feeling incredibly guilty, he put a tracker on your phone just so that if something did happen, he could check it. He wouldn’t go near it otherwise

You left and returned around the same time every week, so he didn’t see any reason to worry. You were just having a bit of freedom, that was totally fine. As long as you promised to stay safe, and as long as you called him if anything went wrong, and as long as you came back in a tidy state and not too drunk it was okay

But one day you didn’t come back, and he began to panic. It had been ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour past your usually time of return. He was waiting, sitting with his back to the wall, watching the door. He was panicking, and Saeran was getting concerned himself as his brother’s state

An hour had passed and you still weren’t home. Something must have happened, right? You weren’t responding to his messages asking if you were okay, and if you needed a lift or something. He hadn’t heard anything from you

So he turns on the tracker, and sees you’re located in some random house somewhere. He’s confused and he just can’t think straight as he grabs his jacket and keys and goes to drive there. Saeran grabs him by the shoulders and grunts at him to stay safe, and then watches as he runs to get in one of his cars

He speeds the entire way there, trying his best to be careful but just wanting to get to you already. When he gets to the house, everything is eerily quiet. And then he hears you... laugh?

He runs up to the door and knocks. The person who opens the door just stares down at him blankly, and he quietly asks if you’re there

“Yeah, they’re here, what do you want them for?” they ask, looking nervous and confused

“I’m... I’m their boyfriend? I wanted to check if they were okay. They haven’t been responding to me at all,” Seven explains

He gets so scared when the person just laughs

“This is a funny joke. I’m dating MC, dude. There’s no way she would cheat...”

They stop when they see just how confused and hurt Seven looks. He doesn’t look quite all there, honestly, his eyes wide with panic and doubt and his breath catching continuously in his throat

The person turns around and calls for you to come to the door, begging Seven to hide to the side for a second so that you don’t see him. You come out, a drink in one hand, smiling and blushing lightly

“Hey babe, what’s up? Someone for me?” you ask

Seven steps up to the door and stares at you, looking so hurt and betrayed and confused, his eyes begging you to tell him this isn’t true, that this is all just some big, bad joke

But you just drop your drink and stare at him, mouth open, eyes wide in fear

“Sae... Saeyoung, what are you doing here?” you ask quietly

And he just glances at the other person, who looks equally confused and hurt as he knows he does right now, and he turns and walks away. He doesn’t know if you’re following him or not, and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care when he can’t hear your footsteps behind him, but he does. He cares a lot

He gets in his car and drives off, not to anywhere in particular, and not back home. He ends up outside Yoosung’s apartment, and he sits in the car for a moment crying. He texts Yoosung asking him to come let him in to the building

Yoosung is at the door in seconds, asking him if everything is okay and what’s wrong and why is he crying?

When Seven doesn’t answer, choking back a sob, Yoosung just tackles him in a hug and they stand there for a while, Seven eventually hugging him back and trying his best to calm down and just think

They go in and sit down and Seven explains what happened as Yoosung gets them both a PhD. Pepper and something light to eat. Yoosung seems really shocked by the news, and he isn’t the best to give advice – especially concerning relationships – but he looks up at Seven and there is definitely anger in his eyes as he tells him that what happened isn’t his fault, and that he needs to cut you out, to make you realise what you did was wrong, and to stop you from hurting him again

They sit and relax for a bit, Seven finally able to clear his head a bit and think about the situation. He couldn’t have known, and seemingly the other person didn’t know either. He hoped they were doing okay

He had put his phone on silent and when he was walking back to his car, he finally checked it. Nothing from you, but a few messages from Saeran telling him he needs to come home right now

He sits for a second with his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on the steering wheel, before making his way back home. He opens the door and sees Saeran waiting for him, looking a bit frightened and concerned, but he covers it up immediately with his usual blank look

“They came home and they weren’t making any sense. They’ve just been sitting waiting. I didn’t know what to do,” Saeran explains

“They cheated on me. They’re not staying here,” Seven whispers to him, a light hiss in his voice as his anger rises

He walks in and sees you sitting on the sofa, curled up into a ball, looking so small and scared... But no, you messed up here, and you need to deal with that

Seven walks over, and you turn and jump up off the sofa as soon as you see him. You look so guilty, but he doesn’t care

“Why, MC?” he asks

“I... I just... I don’t know, I wanted some freedom, I felt so trapped here, and I went out one day and met them and I just...”

“I warned you about this. I told you not to get attached to me. I told you that when we were in Rika’s apartment! The first time we met, I warned you!” Seven barks, and you shrink away from him a bit

“I didn’t mean to, Seven, you know that... you know I love you, I promise I didn’t mean to, I just got so caught up in it...”

“You don’t love me. If you loved me, you wouldn’t sneak out every week to go see someone else. Clearly I’m not enough for you, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“But, Seven... Where am I supposed to go? Is there no way I can fix this?”

“No, you can’t. How am I to ever believe you won’t just turn around and do this again someday when you get bored and ‘feel trapped’? And why don’t you go stay with them, they seem to have a nice house.”

“They... they dumped me.”

Seven snickers, and you look so hurt. He turns around and goes to your shared room, pulling out a suitcase

“Here’s the deal. You have until the end of the day to pack up and get the hell out of here. I’ll let you come get the rest of your stuff then within this next month. You’ll have to ask ahead of time for access to the bunker. And then, after that, I don’t want to hear from you again. Understood?” Seven asks, glancing up at Saeran who is standing nervously at the bedroom door, watching the two of you. When Seven and him link eyes, he just nods at him, reassuring him that he’s doing the right thing

Seven shoves the suitcase in to your hands and walks out of the room. He feels Saeran’s hand on his arm, and he turns around, surprised

“Things will be okay,” Saeran tells him, and then he clears his throat, puts on that old blank mask, and retreats away to his room (he ends up hovering about, spending more time closer to Seven over the next few days)

Seven completely ignores you as you pack up your stuff and leaves. Then he goes in to your (old) shared room... it’s just his room now. He feels so empty yet overwhelmed at the same time. Today wasn’t supposed to be like this. He never thought anything like this would happen

He curls up on the bed and your scent is still lingering and he just starts sobbing

He overworks himself for the next while. It’s all he can manage. He makes programs and apps and little robots to distract himself from the constant dull ache in his stomach and chest. When he’s not working he tries to distract himself in other ways. It takes him a long, long time to recover, with Saeran and Yoosung spending a lot of time with him to help him on his way

He’s not going to go back to dating for quite a while

V/Jihyun Kim

You were out meeting up with some friends and he didn’t like to be in the apartment by himself, so he had gone out to a random park with his camera. He loved going out on walks in pretty places now that his eyes had been fixed. He had missed this so much

He invites Jumin to come with him, and the two stroll through the park and gardens together, chatting away like they did when they were younger (V does most of the talking, Jumin was never all that talkative). They pause every now and then so that V can take photos, and he tries to help Jumin take a few photos on his phone

V jogs on up a path and hides around a corner. When Jumin walks up to see what he’s doing, he pops his head around the corner and takes a photo (it somehow looks amazing even though he had only just stopped moving when he took it. V is the God of photography)

And then he sees you, walking down a path not far away, coming in their direction, but not really focusing on them as you talk to the person beside you. You’re holding hands with them, and you look very much in love

The image is burned in his head, and it takes him a moment to register what he’s seeing before he pulls Jumin to stand hidden beside him, listening as you get closer and closer. Tears fill his eyes and he just stares at Jumin, trying to figure out what he should do

Jumin didn’t see you, so he doesn’t quite understand what is happening and why V keeps telling him to be quiet and stay hidden. V shows him the latest photo. In the background, there you are, walking with this stranger, cuddled up to them and looking like a proper couple. Jumin’s face turns sour as he glares at the photo, and then he leans up against the wall, waiting for you to approach

As you turn the corner and spot the two of them, standing there, Jumin looking angry and V looking very, very hurt, you take a step back, letting go of the person’s hand and flushing bright red. You just stare at V, looking shocked and guilty, and he stares back, not really knowing what to do

The person laughs nervously and asks you what is wrong, and Jumin is the first to speak

“We’re friends of MC. How do you know them?” he asks, keeping his cool

“Oh, cool! I met MC a while ago, we’ve been dating for a few months, I thought they would’ve told their friends about me at least,” they tell him, and they laugh again, relaxing a little until they see V’s face and start to connect the dots

“A few months?” he asks quietly, feeling his heart start to crack and shatter in his chest. His heart was fragile enough already, why would you do this to him?

“Yeah... uh... about 3 months at this point I think?.. Is everything okay?” they ask, seeming concerned

“I’ve been dating MC for a few years,” V tells them, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. This can’t be real

Jumin puts a hand on his shoulder protectively, before forcing him to turn around and walk away. The person stands there looking shocked, before turning and talking to you in a hushed voice. They then turn away and walk off, leaving you standing on your own. You go after them, which shocks even Jumin. How could they mean more to you than V?

After they’ve walked for a bit in silence, Jumin pulls V into a tight hug and holds him there. V breaks, and starts going on about how it’s all his fault and he should have been better and he just wishes he could be enough for someone, for anyone, he just wants to be enough

Jumin gets Driver Kim to take them back to V’s place, where he just sits on the sofa, doubled over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands

Jumin sorts things out over the next while. You won’t be returning, he’ll have your things sent to you, and he’ll stay with V for the next few days, ensuring that a maid takes care of Elizabeth the 3rd for him

V doesn’t really eat or drink much over those few days, and he refuses to talk to anyone much. He opens up to Jumin a bit, and Jumin keeps reminding him it’s not his fault, it’s not his fault, it’s not his fault

After a while, when Jumin is about to leave to go to his penthouse again as V is recovering and starts to take care of himself, V asks him to keep a secret and to take something with him

He hands him a small box, and Jumin’s face drops as he realises what it is. He looks up at V, who is starting to cry again as he stares at the small box

“When were you going to...” Jumin begins to ask, but he can’t finish the question

“That night. I had planned to take them out to dinner, and then go a walk in the park and ask them there, at midnight. It was to be a clear night and everything, the stars would be out, and it just seemed to be perfect...”

Jumin hugs him again, tight, and tells him to come to the penthouse as often as possible. V just nods and watches him as he leaves, before sitting down again the way he had when he had first gotten home after seeing you with the other person (according to Jumin, they had left you too, because they had been unaware of the situation also. You had been playing the two of them)

He stares at the floor as the tears fall. Why couldn’t he just be enough?

Unknown/Saeran

You were late meeting up with him. Of course, it had been arranged last minute, but he had been in the bunker and you had supposedly been out in the town anyway, close to the fancy little ice cream parlour that you were supposed to be meeting up at. What the hell was keeping you?

He texts you and gets no response, so he gets an ice cream for himself and then leaves to go look for you

He finds you a few blocks away, cuddled up in someone else’s arms, staring up at them lovingly as you say goodbye to them and give them a kiss

He drops the ice cream and stares for a second before getting angry and stomping up the two of you. You see him before he gets to you, and push the other person away quickly

“S-Saeran, what are you doing here?” you ask

“I was waiting for you, and you didn’t show up. So I came to find you. What the fuck is going on, MC!?” he growls, glaring at you and the person you’re with, who looks like they really don’t want to be there right now

“I’m sure this is some misunderstanding,” they start, and Saeran reaches out and just shoves them, telling them to just ‘fuck off’ and let him deal with this

They look uncomfortable and scared, but then they glance at you and realise the situation, and they walk away looking betrayed and fearful

And now you’re left to deal with the consequences of your actions as Saeran grabs you by the shoulders and forces you to look him in the eyes. He seems completely unfazed by your tears as you stand there shaking in his grip

“What. The. Fuck. Is going on?” he growls again, slowly, waiting for you to answer

“I... I didn’t mean to Saeran... I really didn’t,” you try to explain, gulping down sobs

He lets go of you, and takes a step back

“Am I not enough for you?” he asks, his anger showing clearly in his face

“No, no, Saeran you’re more than enough... I just... I... I’m sorry, I love you, I’m so sorry.”

“Save your apologies for someone who cares, MC. I’m done with this. We’re done.”

And then he walks away. When you run up and grab his arm, he just shakes you off and yells at you to go away and leave him be. He had trusted you so much, he had let you in, and you broke his trust. That made you a disgusting disgrace of a person to him

When he gets back to the bunker he throws his bag onto his bed and stares at the photo of the two of you on the bedside table

He reaches out and lifts it, rubbing his thumb gently over the frame, before throwing it across the room. Seven knocks on the door and opens it slowly and quietly, staring at Saeran as the hot tears bubble in his eyes and start to spill onto his cheeks and roll down his face

“Saeran... is everything okay? Where’s MC? I thought you two went out for ice cream?” Seven asks, walking into the room

“Leave me alone, Saeyoung.”

“What happened?”

“Leave me the hell alone!”

And then he starts sobbing, and Seven looks so shocked and confused and he just doesn’t know what to do. He tentatively walks over and wraps his arms around Saeran, not letting go of him even though he initially struggles and fights against him

Eventually Saeran relaxes and just buries his head in Seven’s hoodie and lets it all out. Seven tries to think of what to do, who to call, but you were the only person Saeran really let get close to them. Clearly this is about you. It doesn’t take Seven long to come up with a few possibilities – you had gotten hurt, you had broken up with him, or you had... cheated. Shit

“Saeran, they aren’t worth this,” he says quietly, and Saeran freezes in his arms and shoves him away gently. “Please explain what happened to me.”

“I caught them with someone else. We were supposed to be meeting up and I caught them with someone else,” Saeran explains quietly. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

His voice catches in the last sentence, and Seven feels horrible. He tells Saeran to wait here one second, and he goes and gets his phone. He calls Yoosung and tells him to come over for takeout and stuff, and briefly explains the situation to him. He orders some food for Yoosung to collect on his way over, and then he calls you and you can tell he’s really suppressing his anger as he hisses for you to not come back, he’ll send your things to you. He hangs up before you get much of a chance to speak

Seven quickly changes the door’s passwords, so that you won’t be able to get in to the bunker even if you do show up, and then he goes back to Saeran and tells him to get up

He drags him to the sofa, makes him sit down and drink something, and then goes to the kitchen to sit and think about things

Meanwhile, Saeran sits on the sofa and just stares off in to space, ignoring his drink after Seven leaves the room. He can’t understand why people can’t love him, what did he ever do to become so unlovable? He knew he had messed up and made mistakes (being a part of Mint Eye being the main one), but he had been unlovable from the start, and he had convinced himself he was so used to being abandoned that it couldn’t hurt him anymore. It still did, though

Yoosung shows up after about half an hour, holding the take out, and the three of them eat in silence. Saeran barely touches his food, as Yoosung and Seven try to talk to him about what happened, offering whatever words of comfort that they can. Eventually they realise he doesn’t want to talk about it, so they change the topic instead and try to brighten the mood. Nothing works

Saeran retreats back in to his shell quite quickly, constantly reminding himself that he was not loved and that everyone was lying and that, eventually, they would all leave him too

(Finally finished oh my god this took hours and hours, coming to a total of around 13 pages on Microsoft Word, and about 7,200 words. I’m sorry if it seems OOC or rushed at all, I just really wanted to push through my writer’s block and get this done. Hope it was all okay. If you have any comments or anything, please send them to me ^^ Take care!)

[tumblunni]

Finally got back to finish Oneshot...

GAH

my emotions...

spoilers below

Okay I was spoiled beforehand, so i already knew the final choice is ‘save the world or save Niko’ from the point I set foot in the library. And I was very certain of my choice but the game still made me doubt it a hundred times over, DEAR GOD

Mostly the ‘reality game’ aspects of this thing have just been annoying to me. It gets in the way of the story a lot, and doesnt really... do anything? It feels like its ONLY there for the ‘wow how did they do that’ factor, I guess. But it just gets obnoxious and seriously its never actually made me ‘paranoid’ or anything, and if it DID then that isnt a good thing! I don’t get it... But yeah, its just mostly annoying having to search thru the game files every five seconds in order to solve the next puzzle, rather than it actually being IN THE GAME. And its annoying cos sometimes they don’t even TELL you that you need to look outside the game for the answer! There’s so much backtracking and pixel-hunting already, you didnt need to make me do it for no reason when you put the answer replacing my desktop all along, or whatever. And I just imagine how unplayable it would be for someone who’s computer isnt capable of doing all this stuff. like if they had an antivirus that blocks it, or a really old computer that lags out or crashes when it happens. Plus its SO STUPID that the ENTIRE POINT OF THE NAME OF THE GAME comes from a stupid trick it pulls on you in the ending. It tells you you only had one shot and you can’t play again, but then there ACTUALLY IS A NEW GAME PLUS and you CANT GET THE FULL ENDING WITHOUT IT. You HAVE to delete your save data from the files in order to PROGRESS THE GAME. I just... I just feel SO BAD for any players who go fooled by this or just didnt have enough meta sense to grasp some of these puzzles without a guide. Its like a ‘you must be this smart at random programming bullshit to progress’ barrier... So yeah this is the one game in all of time that I most reccommend using a guide for! I tried my best to do it without one but I missed a whole bunch of achievements and shit because of it. I guess at least that makes the newgame plus a little more fun, even if I’m still not exactly happy I have to do all these bullshit puzzles TWICE MORE to get the true ending... gahhhHHH

BUT

BUT

the ONE time the dumb meta puzzle bullshit was actually good and actually enhanced the story IS THE ENDING

The final puzzle has you running a second ‘decoder program’ from the game’s file directory (yeah, bullshit, IKR?) and it does actually have some creative puzzles of holding the image over the game window to reveal the right way to go. But more importantly, it does it in a very creative way! All the hints are pages torn from the Author’s journal, and you kinda have your first and last conversation with him via these. And he tells you about the sadistic choice you now have to make, and apologizes... :(

Also its very good meta that the Entity tries to interfere with you during this section. Usually there’s no damn reason for the stupid super hard meta puzzles, this time there IS a reason! In-universe, its supposed to be that the Entity has removed your ability to interact with the game normally, so you can ONLY solve this last puzzle by fiddling with the files. Its really really upsetting to see Niko being fooled by the Entity and there’s no way to talk to them, they think you left when its really some asshole depressed computer god that kicked you out! GAHHH!! But also i feel a lot of sympathy for the Entity cos the Author says they’re trying to destroy the world because they have no other way to kill themself. And the nature of the Entity is still left completely unexplained in this ending, which is why it SUCKS that the game tries to trick you into thinking there isnt a newgame plus! But it seems the entity might be like... an artificial god? With their powers they’re clearly more of a god than the player could ever be, but they talk like they’re one of the ‘tamed’ robots we’ve been seeing for the whole game. I’M REALLY REALLY CURIOUS ABOUT THIS TRUE ENDING, DAMMIT

Anyway... aaa... I picked to save the world instead of Niko. And I feel like COMPLETE SHIT! HOORAY! But like.. god.. I know that it would not be morally defensible to kill hundreds of strangers just to save one child I’ve grown to love so dearly. I’ve always got mad when characters in videogames choose to doom the world just to save their best friend, but this game really makes me feel just how hard that choice is to make! My only criticism is that maybe it wasnt as hard as it COULD have been, since you do meet a bunch of huggable characters throughout the game that you’ll love just as much as Niko. It was a decision that couldnt be made by any form of proper logic, so I just boiled it down to a stupid emotionless profit/loss analysis. I can cry over losing one person, or losing the dozens of others I also met, AND a whole world of strangers! Either way I cry equally as much! AAAARGH!! I JUST COULDNT STOP THINKING OF MR LAMPLIGHTER AND THE UNNAMED PANCAKE CAFE PERSON AND THE PROPHETBOT AND KIP AND SILVER AND THE BIRD FAMILY AND THE CAT HUGS ALLEYWAY ROBOT AND ALL THE OTHER CHARMING ROBOTS AND THE TINY LITTLE PHOSPHOR SHRIMP AND THE ROOMBA!!!!!!!!!! GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH But at least I was able to get some pancakes for Niko, and be honest with them about what was happening, and say goodbye. And at least in this ending nobody dies, its just that Niko can’t ever go home again so its equally as sad as if they died. And i can’t even talk to them ever again to comfort them!! GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH But like.. its mildly more optimistic than the alternative, I guess. Cos you get to see a montage of everyone else you ever met seeing the sun come back and crying. AND EVEN TINY BABY PLANT SPIRIT CAME BACK TO LIFE BECAUSE OF MY SIDEQUEST FINISHING POWERS I can feel like maybe Niko would be able to make a new life there, even if they’d always miss their momma and probably resent me for it... *sigh* its still better than 400+ other people not even getting the chance to make a new life, JUST so one mom and their kid can be happy but still it hurts dear god making the ‘right decision’ doesnt matter when it still hurts both decisions would be wrong to someone...

at least I didnt cry as much as I could have, cos I knew in advance that there’s a newgame plus and a true ending i dunno if the true ending is happier or sadder tho but DEAR GOD i would have been SO pissed off if i fell for the game’s stupid trick and never found the newgame plus and this was just THE END FOREVER fuk u developers u aint so clever *waving middle fingers as i descend into a quicksand of tears* god im not even emotionally okay enough to start playing again now i know i have to play two more times aaaaa and I have to see the other bad ending too aaaaaaaa and i have to walk through everywhere again now with the knowledge of how it ends AND the newgame plus has added dialogues and stuff just to rub it in aaaaaaaaaaa god i dont know whether to congratulate the developer or be REALLY ANGRY at them god just fuck me up AAAAAAAAAAA i am not a god, please stop giving me the responsibilities of a god please can anyone else decide who lives and dies please can niko hug their mom again without everyone else losing their moms in order to do it AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA this game.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Warm Me Up Ch. 27

Click Here for Ch. 1

Click Here for Ch. 26

The end of the school year drew nearer and nearer. Nico couldn’t believe he’d managed to make it through his freshman year of college. With Annabeth’s help, he was able to bring his grades up enough to keep his scholarships, and with his friends- especially Will- he was able to manage himself a bit better.

He hadn’t even had ten visits to his therapist yet, but she had encouraged him to rely more on his friends for help. While it didn’t keep the lows from happening or messing with his mind and progress, it helped to get distracted as often as he was. His time was divided between his friend group and Will.

Every now and then, Nico let slip a flirtatious comment, but Will would only respond with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, then continue talking as though nothing had happened. After a while, he stopped, if only to make sure things remained comfortable between them. And they were. Things were good, and Will made him laugh and blush and smile and caused butterflies and hope to sprout in him.

However, it had been almost two and a half months since they began this, and Nico wasn’t sure how great their progress was. When, exactly, would he know it was okay to try again? Was Will waiting on him to ask? Or should Nico wait on Will? The confusion was frustrating, but he was also afraid to bring it up.

Nico was sitting outside the café with a cigarette between his fingers while he searched for cheap apartments nearby. If he wanted to keep going to therapy, he would have to stay in the city and get a job. He liked his therapist. He didn’t want to switch to a New Yorker over the summer. Especially since it meant he’d have to start over.

A few moments later, Will sat across from him and smiled brightly. “Guess what?” he said, bubbling with excitement.

“Uh… your favorite book is turning into a movie? You… are getting a new car? Your favorite band is touring this summer? Um-”

“Are you done?” he asked with an exasperated smile. Nico chuckled and nodded. “I was accepted to be an orientation leader this summer.”

Nico smiled and held out his fist. “Sweet. Does that mean you’re staying on campus all summer?”

“Yep. Housing is provided. I’m excited. I thought I wouldn’t get chosen, but….”

Nico furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him fondly. “You do realize you have phenomenal people skills and literally everyone on campus likes you because you’re so… happy and optimistic and stuff.”

Will rolled his eyes and glared at him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, the bad thing is you don’t see it.” Will rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Hey, I was going to ask you, since your people skills are way better than mine, could you go to this thing with me? It’s an apartment complex and I want to check out the layout with their tours and stuff, but… people.”

“You are such an introvert,” Will scoffed, sliding Nico’s computer over. “Oh, I’ve seen this place. The apartments look nice on the outside. Yeah I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks. And congrats on being chosen as an OL. I knew you’d get it.” Will smiled gratefully and Nico looked away, not wanting him to see the blush that crept into his cheeks. “Does that mean you’re not going home, though?”

Will bit his lip and sighed. “Maybe for a week if I can save up. Or if they visit me. But no, I don’t think I’ll get to see them often. It’s okay though. Part of growing up, right?” Nico raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything. “Besides they might come up for my birthday, so that’ll be fun.” He checked his watch and cursed under his breath. “My class is starting soon. I’ll see you later. What time is the apartment thing?”

“Later, like around three.” Will nodded and scribbled a note on his hand with a pen. “See you later,” he called as Will turned away. Nico finished his cigarette and continued looking at apartments.

Suddenly there was a weight on his shoulders and someone was ruffling his hair. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing around him?” Leo teased.

“Leo!” Nico growled, shoving him off.

Laughing, Leo came around and sat in front of him. “What? Oh come on, it’s cute. You get all flustered and stuff.” Nico glared at him and Leo raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. We’re all going to get pizza tonight as pre-celebration for surviving year one. Want to come? It’ll be around eight.”

Nico hummed and bit his lip. “Yeah, I could go for pizza…. Um… could I… bring someone?” Leo smiled widely, like a Cheshire cat and Nico slumped into his seat. “Stop looking at me like that, or I swear I will punch you.”

“Yes, you can bring Will,” he said, trying to make his smile smaller. Nico nodded and looked away, hoping Leo wouldn’t comment on the tinge in his cheeks. “You should know I find this very interesting. The start and end to this school year… well.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Leo smiled and leaned forward. “At the beginning of the year, whenever I teased you about Will, you swore you didn’t like him. You still threatened to hit me, but that’s normal.” He shrugged. “But you’d get defensive and… you were pretty stoic. Now you’re… well you’re blushing and you’re not denying it and….” He sighed and a smiled, more sincerely than teasingly. “It’s a nice change for you.”

“Thanks, I think,” he mumbled.

Around two, a knock on his door pulled Nico from the music playing in his ears. He opened the door and let Will in, feeling the familiar knot of jitters in his stomach. “What are you doing?” Will asked.

“Just laying down listening to music,” he answered. “You’re early.” Will shrugged and sat on the desk.

He looked at him curiously with intense blue eyes that seemed to pull out every dirty secret. “You okay?” he asked. Nico nodded, wondering how his eyes could have the effect they had on him. He wondered if his own boring brown eyes ever captivated Will in the same way. “You just seem pretty quiet. And you said you were just laying down.” Nico smiled and furrowed his eyebrows, not really understanding how that could indicate much about his emotional state. “You don’t have to push people away when they want to help, you know? And you don’t have to push emotions away when you want to be around people.”

“I’m not,” he protested. Will gave him an exasperated look and Nico scoffed. “No, really. I’m okay…. Sort of. I’m not pushing you away, okay? I promise. I just… I’m trying to prove to myself that I can do this too. That I can make myself feel better and not rely on friends each time. Besides, I can only burden other people so much before they get annoyed. Nobody wants to deal with all of it all of the time.”

“What’s that mean?” he asked.

Nico shrugged and scratched his head. “I’m not trying to push you away. I’m actually trying not to do that. I feel like constantly going to you when I’m upset would be what pushes you away. And I just want to know I can handle this myself. Does that… make sense?”

For a few seconds, Will didn’t say anything. He just looked at Nico. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Yes and no. I mean I get what you mean, but…. Neeks, you’d be surprised how much people don’t mind handling when they care about someone.” Nico’s lips parted slightly at the subtle reminder of the feelings Will still had for him. His freckled cheeks were tinged pink as he looked away and shrugged. “But I understand where you’re coming from and I won’t push you to vent each time. We’re- you’re working through this. And that’s the whole point, right?”

“Yeah. I’m just trying to get better.” Will smiled fondly at him and looked away, seemingly preoccupied with his thoughts. “We should go,” he said a few seconds later. He grabbed his keys and Will followed after him.

While he drove, he remembered Leo’s suggestion. “Hey, my friends are going out for pizza later. You want to tag along?”

“What time?” he asked.

“About eight.”

“Sounds fun. I’m up for it,” he answered. Nico nodded and smiled gratefully. It wasn’t like they didn’t go places together. They did. Often. Whether it was for a midnight breakfast or a movie or just to get some takeout, they had gone out before. Strictly as friends, of course. Nico didn’t flirt and Will didn’t try to hold his hand, and they kept conversations light and comfortable.

But they were always alone. This was the first time they’d be with Nico’s friends as well. It’d be the first time the two of them hung out together with other people. Other people who knew their history.

Being with Nico was comfortable for Will. It felt right. No, it wasn’t like before. He couldn’t kiss him because he wanted to, he couldn’t get too close, and he had to be careful with what he said so they wouldn’t delve into the dynamics of their previous relationship.

It sucked. But in a way, it also felt stronger. He knew Nico so well, knew his weakness and strengths, he’d seen him at his highs and lows, and now he was seeing him working to make himself better as a person. He was watching him slowly begin to open up to friends and allow himself to be more vulnerable than he had been when they first met. It just seemed stronger.

And if Nico still felt the things he felt before, Will was certain that a romantic relationship would be way stronger and he wouldn’t be so paranoid like he used to be. He was long past being angry or hurt because of the things Nico had said when they broke up. He was past feeling stupid for having been so vulnerable to him. Nico had made up for that with apologies and his determination to change and showing his own vulnerabilities.

They were both getting stronger, and frankly, each passing moment with him only made Will’s feelings grow. He was filled with so much want and love for Nico, he was starting to go crazy wondering when that perfect moment would come again.

Was Nico waiting for a certain milestone? Would that milestone be in his therapy or between them as friends? Did Nico know Will still liked him? Did Nico still like Will?

They were so used to their boundaries and limits that now Will didn’t know when it would be okay to change that. They pulled into the guest parking area and Will walked beside Nico as he went into the office. While Nico asked about the tour, Will glanced around the small lobby and wondered when he would have to deal with the responsibility of an apartment.

A very flamboyant male with one side of his head shaved and the other a bright pastel blue walked out and smiled. “Hi, I’m Kyle, I’ll be showing you around today. Are you ready for your tour?” Nico nodded and Will fell in step beside him. “So is this a two bedroom or a one bedroom that you’ll be looking at?”

“One,” Nico answered.

“Oh, so you’re a couple.” Will and Nico both stumbled in their steps and turned their heads to him, their eyes wide and their faces flushed.

“Uh, no,” Nico answered awkwardly. “No, we’re uh, we’re not living together.” Will groaned inwardly and turned away, waiting until his face cooled down enough to look back at them.

“Oh. So you’ll be living all by yourself?” Nico nodded. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he answered.

“Wow, and already getting your own place?” Kyle smiled. “That’s pretty impressive.” Nico shrugged and Will got an uneasy feeling in his stomach. “So here’s our one-bedroom layout. The living area. It would come furnished, but of course pillows and the coffee table are for decoration.”

“Spacy,” Will noted. “For one person.”

“Well, we know even people who live alone like to have guests over from time to time,” Kyle said with a small smirk. “Especially someone looking like you, you must have people over every week,” he said, directing it to Nico.

Nico was glancing around at the kitchen which was separated from the living room by a mini bar. “Not really. I’m not a people person.”

Will shook his head as the comments seemed to fly over Nico’s head. But at the same time he was grateful. He opened a door and found the bedroom layout. “Neeks, look,” he called. He walked in and heard Nico’s steps behind him. “Walk-in closet,” he pointed out.

“Full length mirror too,” Nico said, glancing around at the space. Will turned and saw their tour guide eyeing Nico unabashedly. He felt upset, but he knew he had no right to. This guy had no reason not to try to hit on Nico especially if he had the notion that Nico was single… which he was. “What about the bathroom?”

“Right over here,” Kyle said, beckoning him over. Will nearly grabbed Nico’s arm to keep him from going before realizing how ridiculous that was. Of course he had to follow. He was looking the place over. “No tubs, sadly, but very spacious. If you want to relax though, you’d have to go to the pool. We have a jacuzzi too, which is always fun to go in.”

The sentence itself was harmless. But the tone he said it in made Will grimace and he walked away from the bathroom door, where Kyle was already blocking his view anyway, and returned to the living room area. He distracted himself by looking out the window at the shrubs and fences.

A few moments later, Nico came back, with Kyle close beside him. “What do you think?” he asked.

“You’re the one living here, not me.” He shrugged. “It’s your choice.”

Nico stared at him for a few seconds, biting his lip and nodded. “Hey, Kyle, could you get me the financial information for this, you know bills and stuff? Paper format helps me organize.”

“Sure thing, sugar,” he answered, leaving the apartment.

As the door closed, Nico asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Will answered, eyes wide, playing innocent.

Nico hummed and nodded, but when he looked up, he was smirking. “So… Kyle’s blatant and terrible flirting attempts aren’t what’s bothering you?”

“Oh is that what he’s doing?” Will asked playing dumb. “I thought he just had shitty people skills and no work morality.” Nico burst into laughter and Will bit his lip. “No reason it should bother me.” Nico hummed again, but kept smiling at him. That stupid perfect smile that made Will jittery and self-conscious. “So you like this place?”

Allowing the subject to drop, Nico looked around approvingly. “It’s the nicest one I’ve seen. I don’t know I guess… I’m more concerned with knowing whether or not I’ll be able to handle this. It’s such an adult thing to do…. But yeah I like it.”

“Then I say go for it. It is a really nice and really spacy place. If the rent is reasonable, you should get it.” A moment later, Kyle came back with files and paperwork. Will continued to watch as failed attempts at flirting took place, with Nico answering obliviously or looking over at him with a smile before switching the conversation.

When it came time to talk to a different worker, Nico asked Will to take over because he had to go over the paperwork with his father over the phone as well.

In the end, Nico got the apartment. His father had agreed to pay the first two months of rent, but Nico had to take that time to get a job and save up for bills and personal expenses. In addition to that, his father gave him a limit on his credit card which, though it bothered Nico, didn’t seem to affect him too much.

They walked back to the car and Will pulled him to a stop and smiled. “Dude.” Nico raised an eyebrow. “You just got an apartment. You are officially adulting!” Nico grimaced but Will kept smiling. “This is great for you, Neeks! Congratulations!”

Nico laughed and shook his head at his enthusiasm. “You are very special person, Will. Thank you.” He hugged him and Will hugged him back, elated with pride at Nico’s progress. He heard his chuckle in his ear and when he pulled away, found their faces closer than they had been in a long time. “Uh,” Nico stammered, turning away, blushing, and chuckling. “Thank you for the support.” Will smiled and bit his lip.

A couple of hours later, after killing time by taking a walk in a nearby park, they met up with Nico’s friends to get pizza. The expressions on their faces told Nico that Leo hadn’t mentioned Will joining them.

Jason looked confused, but did his best to hide it. Piper and Annabeth were whispering to each other somewhat discreetly. Percy shot Leo a look and then tried to look encouraging. Nico could almost feel Will tense up beside him.

“Hey,” Nico greeted as he went to the table. His friends greeted him then Will and gestured for them to sit. “Have you guys ordered yet?”

“Yeah, small cheese for Pipes, one meatlovers, and a regular pepperoni,” Leo answered, being the only one unfazed by Will’s presence.

The others seemed to be looking at them expectantly, waiting, anxious. It made Nico want to hide. He felt his face begin to warm and his heart began to pound. Then suddenly, Will began to talk.

“You know, I can’t believe freshman year is over. Summer is so close.”

“I don’t know if mine will really count as a summer, I’m an orientation leader,” Leo said.

“Really? Me too,” Will answered. Leo’s eyes lit up, and the conversation began picking up from there.

Leo and Will talked about the expectations over summer and orientation, while the others chimed in on what summer held for them. Slowly, the tension in Nico’s muscles melted away and he was able to relax again.

“What about you, Nico?” Percy asked. “What are you doing this summer?”

He shrugged and bit his pizza. “I’m not sure yet. I’m not going back home, but I got an apartment today.”

“Whoa what?” Annabeth asked, sitting up straighter. “An apartment?” Nico nodded.

“And he got hit on,” Will added with a smirk. Nico kicked him under the table. “Ah! What? It’s true.”

“Irrelevant,” he shot back.

“You could’ve asked for a special discount, you know? I bet he’d have given it to you.”

“You’re being really snarky about this which is strange considering the fact that the guy was annoying you the whole time.”

“That is besides the point,” he answered with blushing cheeks.

Meanwhile, his friends were watching their interaction closely. The way they seemed to pull towards each other. The way their eyes focused on each other and their smiles seemed different from their usual ones. The emotions underlying their voices, their smiles, were so obvious, they didn’t understand how they still weren’t dating.

It was even considered that the two were already dating and it had simply slipped their minds to mention it. Otherwise, how could they possibly be restricted to being friends?

Watching them interact was mystifying and frustrating. Nico would lean against Will, laughing, and Will would absentmindedly touch Nico’s arm from time to time, and neither of them seemed to mind or even notice. It was as though they were immune to the obvious signs and it was confusing to watch them and remember that they weren’t actually dating.

It wasn’t until after the pizza was gone and Will had gone to use the bathroom that Annabeth pulled Nico’s chin to look at her and raised an eyebrow. “Are you two dating yet?”

Nico’s eyes went wide and he blushed. “N-No.”

“How can you guys do that? How can you both know what you feel for each other and just be friends?” she asked.

“How long until you guys start dating again? I’ve been tempted several times already to just shove your faces together,” Leo muttered.

Nico’s face turned redder and he cleared his throat. “I messed up really bad. And now I’m trying to fix it. There’s things I have to do for myself before… I can try again. We’ve talked about it before. I’m working on it. We both are.”

“I really hope that time comes soon, for both of your sakes. It seems like it takes everything in you both to keep from telling each other you’re in love,” Piper said. “Oh he’s coming back.”

“What’d I miss?” he asked as he sat down.

“Just Leo rambling about Civil War again,” Annabeth answered, saving Nico the embarrassment. As Leo immediately pounced on the subject, Nico gave her a grateful glance and turned his attention to the argument Leo was making about the movie.

He was suddenly hyperaware of every touch and every glance between him and Will. And he wished with all his heart that the day he could kiss him again would come soon. Though he had no idea how he was supposed to know when it was enough time again….

Click Here for Ch. 28

[lethe-distillery-blog]

Un Bel Rosso

The music surrounded me like a living thing, pulsing and alive it surrounded me in a claustrophobic cocoon of sensation and pulsing electronic beats that pulsed against my chest like another heartbeat. Every part of me felt engulfed by the thrashing sound that sounded like I had hooked a speaker up to an electronic keyboard and threw it down a couple flights of stairs with a random assortment of discordant guitar sounds, vocals, and other strange things that I couldn’t even place for an assorted variety. You know, in case listening to someone trying to choke out a computer using a dial up connection was too much. I sighed and did my best to ignore the dull throb that started between my temples at the concussion blasts of bass from the speakers as I picked up my gin and tonic from the bar counter, leaving a couple bills before working my way towards the large expanse of windows that left the entire south wall open to city lights, outside traffic, and a semblance of sanity. It wasn’t a deck, or even a fenced off pavilion, but it would do. And there, I would be left to my own devices, and maybe then the double takes, the odd looks, and the confused frowns would stop. I knew I was an outsider, and it only took me walking into the establishment to figure that out.

 I found a corner and pressed myself into it, one shoulder pressed against the cool glass window, allowing the comfortable chill to flow into me. It wasn’t crowded exactly but stuff a hundred bodies anywhere and the ambient temperature was bound to rise. Get them moving, I wasn’t quite intoxicated enough to call this light and sound show and resulting seizures dancing, and it was going to get even worse. Most times I was alright with being alone, hanging by the fringes of a society that confused me more times than it ever made the slightest amount of sense. But tonight, tonight I needed out. My walls of my condo had been closing in around me, even my books hadn’t helped much. After reading the first paragraph three times and not remembering any of it I had finally decided that I needed to socialize. Now that I thought on it, I didn’t remember the last time I had bothered to talk with another person.

 Funeral Directing was an isolating profession. And while I couldn’t stand the small talk that people exchanged as some sort of constructive exercise there was something to be said for not isolating oneself from the world either. It had been touch and go the last few years after Mom was killed in a car accident. She had been the person I was closest to; it wasn’t really that she knew my darkest secrets or my innermost thoughts but she understood me enough that she could pull me back from inside my head. So, it had been hard for awhile after that, forcing myself to pay attention more than I normally would, and stopping the house to see Dad and see how he was handling things. I was the one that lived closer anyways but it was Phillip that called and stopped by when he could. Still, I had tried.

 My roaming eyes stopped on a ground of young folks, on a more thorough look they seemed to be surrounding a girl. She didn’t look that old, eighteen maybe? Pretty, blonde hair, too light to be natural. She looked to be both a little more intoxicated than necessary, and a little uncomfortable. They looked to be pressing on her to drink more, if the ruckus and her furtive glances to a line of shot glasses were any indication. Peeling myself from the wall I decided that I would use the local facilities. Coincidence that I had to walk by the loud group of young things that wore such an odd ensemble of clothing that I half wanted to check ID’s to make sure they hadn’t raided old trunks for their garish getup and were playing ‘Grown Ups.’ One young, acne faced lad, looked to be straight out of the movie Greaser, slicked back black hair, jeans, white shirt that had seen better days and an old, patched, black leather jacked that didn’t fit the shoulders quite right. Another had on a local highschool jacket, the girls weren’t exactly dressed the same either. One had a hairstyle that seemed like she had gotten into a fight with a weed whipper and lost before getting her face plunged into a bucket of acrylic paints and sharp bits of metal. It was a shame, she had a cute enough face but the large hunks of metal drooping from nose, eyebrows and lips dispelled the illusion. Not to mention the hideously applied makeup that made brown eyes sink into a pit of navy blue and lips stand out a harsh garish slime green. Though I was likely only a half dozen years their senior I didn’t exactly know what to do with, these, children. However, I wasn’t allowed to just ignore them. Oh no, that would imply some sort of justice in the universe that I could spend the night remembering why I preferred my quiet, often solitary, existence.

 No. I just had to be a white knight.

 “What the fuck are you doing?” Beneath the jacket he was scrawny, gawky even. The excess bulk of him crumpling under the leather as I slammed him against the wall, hand around his throat. The girl, having been halfway to her own pit stop came hurrying back. His friends kicking up enough of a fuss to bring over the bouncers. I didn’t care.

 “What the fuck man?” The whiny tone was choked off as I squeezed my fingers around his throat, my entire vision going dark, the little punk was lucky I had enough reign on my temper that I had simply slammed him into the wall. I desperately wanted to give him a facial reconstruction, without anesthetic. And I knew enough about human anatomy that I could make it count.

 His friend tried pulling me off but I shrugged him away. “So,” I seethed, “why did you do it?” My voice was coming out in a growl, my fingers tightening so much that the greasy little shit’s eyes started to bug. The blonde girl was crying somewhere out of my periphery vision, I was yanked backwards, and since I was six four and just over three hundred pounds, that took a bit. The animal inside me wanted to lash out, to throat punch the bouncer, rack his friend, and then take the piece of shit kid to the floor and break his face until nothing was left but bone shards and gore. But, cooler heads prevailed. I still seethed, I still wanted to break the kid’s face. But I didn’t.

 The Jock came over, the punk girl consoling the pretty blonde. “What the fuck are you doing?” I admired his tenacity, but he was too drunk and I knew I would ruin whatever scholarship the football brat earned if I broke bones. Besides. He wasn’t the one I was pissed at.

 I glared with a fury that one could only describe as hatred at the little greaser, my knuckles ached from the memory of when I shattered them against a concrete wall. That lovely experience had taught me to get a hold of my temper, alright, well, a better one.

 I heard the bouncer mumbling something to his buddy and they started shoving me towards the door. “Wait.” Of course they didn’t. I tried again, the truth coming out of me in a vicious snarl. “That little punk spiked her drink!”

 Everything went silent for at least twenty feet around us. The epileptic seizure crowd still blissfully unaware of the commotion, though one of the bartenders was coming over. “The fuck is going on here?” He sounded angry.

 The little punk went on the defensive. “He just slammed me against the wall for no reason as he was walking by! I didn’t do anything, especially not spike her drink as he’s saying I did!” His hand was still around his throat, coughing, though it did sound exaggerated.

 The bartender, Steve, if I remembered, looked at me. His eyes were no longer the friendly easy going look I remembered from when I had ordered my drink. “Is that what’s going on?” I nodded, he looked to the young punk who had the audacity to sneer at him and me.

 “He wouldn’t do that,” a very quiet voice came from beside us somewhere, Steve and I looked over to where the blonde stood, her makeup had run and gave her a rather goofy looking racoon appearance. “He’s my boyfriend.” She came over, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and the arms wrapped around her.

 Naive little girl. People will hurt you no matter who they are to you. It doesn’t matter, so long as they can have control over you in some capacity. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my keys and flipped to a larger one. I popped out a creamy white disk and held it between my fingers. I was a paranoid bastard, last thing I needed, with my career, was something happening. I looked over at Steve. “You know what one of these are?”

 He nodded. “Date rape drug tester right?” I nodded and held it to him. I didn’t miss the eyes starting to bulge on the kid.

 “You seriously don’t expect something like that to work?” He sounded cocky, and a little scared. “It’s likely a fake, something for him to get his jollies off in bossing people around and kicking people out.”

 Steve glared at the punk. The jock and the other girl standing beside him and voicing their own concerns as to why I was faking it, how they couldn’t prove it, How there was no reason he’d ever do something like that, how this was prejudice and racial profiling. How they managed that last one since the only one of us that was something other than white was the very large native american bouncer to my left, was beyond me. My guess was because I didn’t exactly fit in with the, general appearance of everyone around us. While most were casually dressed in jeans and tees or girls in shorts and tank tops my personal definition of dressing down resulted in slacks and a button down shirt. I wanted to break in, to tell them that I worked with dead people all the time and I had seen all of it. But I knew it wouldn’t help. No story I told them about vicious rape murders, drunk kids driving and deciding to take flying lessons out of a windshield would help them. I, was the bad guy right now and I was oddly alright with that, because I knew I was right. It was the punk kid that was throwing a tantrum as Steve took the drink, pulled the foil off the tester, dabbed his finger onto it and placed a drop onto the disk.

 One minute, three seconds passed by in tense silence.

 The indigent cry told me all the information I needed to know. The fine gentleman to my right moved forward and slammed leather clad punk to the floor and cuffed his hands behind his back before the hand he had pulled back to swipe the drink off the table even made it to the apex of his swing. That level of commotion, and Steve’s shout to the bar for someone to call the cops got the seizure spastic people’s attention. Young punk was hauled towards the door, Native American bouncer, his name tag read Lance, turned to me. “That’s a really handy thing. Where do you get it?”

 “I order them online, I don’t know if their sold in brick and mortar stores or not but they’re called SipChips.”

 He nodded and made a note of that, thanked me, and took off for the door, the young brat making a bit of a fuss it seemed. What was really uncomfortable afterwards was the three friends thanking me. Profusely. I wasn’t one to gloat and all the attention made me highly uncomfortable. I felt bad for the little blonde though, all of her faith had been in the wrong man. At least I had been able to stop things before they went too far. I’d rather feel bad because she had a broken heart than to know she had been raped, or worse.

 Steve wasn’t at the bar when I went for another drink but word had apparently travelled fast. Apparently my drinks were covered. Not really that I drank that much, they wouldn’t be covering much. One more after this and I would be done for the night. The old fashioned was good, a bit strong, but it helped take the edge off my anger, and discomfort as people looked at me and whispered. I sighed. For once, I wished I could dress like a slob and blend in with the rest of the population. But no. A tall man wearing black slacks and a button down shirt with patent leather shoes fit only one person here. Me.

 I was suddenly grabbed from behind, my whole body tensed. Fight or flight flickered through my mind and as instinct reflex kicked in and I went to reach down and break the hold I paused. The arms were a woman’s with large hands with long pianist fingers, what’s more, I recognized them. I turned in the arms and was greeted by a face full of red hair. Yep, I knew her. “Emma.” It was part relief, part annoyance, part curiosity, and a great part affection. She was one of very people that I let into my inner circle, or rather, she had wormed her way in there the day we had met so very long ago. I was greeted to sparkling green/gold eyes that had stolen my heart years ago and a dusting of freckles. I even knew how many there were; thirty six, at least on her face.

 “I knew it was you.” She just shook her head. “You just can’t seem to help yourself can you.” She shook her head again and laughed. “No, I suppose you can’t.” She knew me better than anyone, even my own brother. Where Phillip and I had always fought growing up Emma Prinsen, or, Emmeline on the days where I felt like annoying her, and I had been thick as thieves. We had grown up together, her mom and dad were very good friends with mine and we spent many afternoons together getting into all sorts of nonsense. She had moved off to college after high school and though we had lost touch for the most part, she was the best thing that ever happened to me. “You were always such a gentleman.”

 “I do my best.”

 She laughed at my response and tugged me back towards the windows, but instead of finding a table to sit and chat at, she found us a pool table. Oh gods. “You know I’m going to kick your ass right?” I was awful, like, really really awful. Still, I couldn’t let her know that.

 She handed me a cue and grinned, “take it easy on me, I’m not very good. Just figured it would be better than sitting around and talking.” Well, she was right. Besides, I wasn’t so big of a gentleman that I didn’t appreciate the view when she bent over to put the rack of balls onto the table. I had my secret fantasies, and my silent truths, things that no one but me needed to ever know.

 I broke for the first round, and as we played we shared some snacks I ordered. What’s the point of drinking if there were no snacks. I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the snacks here. Most places had food that I swore was either simply deep fried or microwaved but this actually tasted like food. The first couple games were fun, good natured banter coming as easily as though she had never gone to college. Though we did meet up a few times over the last few years, the last had been at Dad’s wedding. After ten years he had decided to move on. I couldn’t blame him. He had been forty eight when mom passed. Old enough but still, it would be hard to live for another forty or so years ago. It had been nice then too and we passed time at my place with her boyfriend, Chad, Phil and his then girlfriend, now wife Carissa. It had been fun, playing some board games, dusting off my gaming systems and kicking ass at Mario Kart. It had been nice, even if Chad and I didn’t see eye to eye on things I had at least tolerated him and had taken some personal satisfaction in trumping him in Mario.

 Game three was when I started noticing something more than a simple game of pool. Call me dense but it took me Emma grinding herself against me when she bent over to take her turn to have reality break through my perverted thoughts. Sure, I had wanted to pretend she was bending over more to give me a succulent view of her jean short clad ass but I was pretty sure it was only me that had ever had such wicked fantasies about the other. To her, I was sure I had been always relegated to brother status. The way that she pressed into me, I took a calculated risk. I gripped her hips and pulled her back into me as she finished her shot. Giving her plenty to pull away from me but giving her a full sensational feel of my erection pressed against her. And, as I hoped, yet couldn’t believe, she pressed further back into me. “Finally.” It came out a low sensual purr as she leaned back behind her and cupped my head down to her shoulder as she rotated her hips in a slow circle. “I was worried you weren’t interested.”

 I laughed softly in her shoulder, breathing in deeply. “And here I was scared I was being a pervert.” She smelled heavenly, of vanilla and cinnamon though she did smell of beer. “You’ve been drinking.” It was amazing how quickly a game of pool could be forgotten as I hadn’t even remembered we had been playing as she turned around, her arms wrapping about my middle.

 “Brock,” her word was a soft sound, barely above a moan as she looked up at me, “please.” I couldn’t have rejected her even if she was plastered. Morals be damned. I wanted her. No, I needed her. We shared our first kiss surrounded by ruckus drunks and loud music, not quite the romantic candlelight or chaste promise at the end of the first date I had always hoped for as I swept her off her feet in my dreams but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Our lips crushed together and any sort of nervousness or reservations I held fled as passion positively overwhelmed me, my control buckling with the weight of it. Our lips massaged one another in the most tender of lovers while our tongues thrashed in a dance of aggressive dominance. She pressed herself against me, not an inch of her was separate from me and it was only as we came apart did I realize that this was because I had pressed her against the windows, her back bowed awkwardly over the hand railing but still she looked up at me with eyes that glinted gold. My own breathing was coming out in harsh pants, every inhale slurring with the starting of a snarl. I wanted her. And nothing was going to stop me taking what I wanted. Not this time.

 The taxi took forever, and though we passed the time with her in my arms and making out like horny teens. Part of me knew that this was wrong, she was drunk, and so far as I knew, she was still with Chad, and there were so many other reasons why this wasn’t a good idea. But, I couldn’t stop myself, worse, I knew that no matter how wrong this was, no matter how much I tried to rationalize everything and stop. I knew that I at least, wouldn’t regret this. We climbed in, I was grateful that it was only quarter past one. I didn’t feel like sharing. I had barely gotten my address out before she pressed her lips back to mine, her fingers brushing over the piece of my anatomy that was screaming for her attentions. She stroked me through the fabric, driving me to madness and making spots dance in my vision. It was insane, though I wasn’t a man whore I wasn’t exactly alien to the carnal pleasures, but she made everything feel new, so radically different and incredible that I felt as helpless before he as a stumbling virgin. Damn her shorts, they made it fucking impossible for me to reciprocate and I wanted to please her, taxi driver could enjoy the view for all I cared. I wanted her, I needed this. Before she came to her senses and shoved me away for all the reasons I was terrified she would.

 I was quickly losing a grip on my sanity. I handed the driver some bills, I knew it was enough to cover, beyond that, I didn’t exactly care. Emma practically dragged me into my condo, kissing me impatiently as I fumbled for the right key. Hard to think when all your blood is being used for something else other than brain activity. That impossible task done I took her hand and ran with her to the elevator and before it even closed I had her shoved against the back wall, her wrists above her head as I struggled for control and out lips locked together. She was more than a craving, I needed her as desperately as a man needed to breathe. Without her, I had always felt like I was floundering, struggling to find a purpose. And with her here, her lips on mine, her moans swallowed into my chest, her breasts mashed against my chest, my purpose became clear. Her.

 My door slammed behind us, aided by my foot, the automatic lock clicking into place. I looked down at Emma. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, her red hair a mess, her eyes golden with hunger, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps that made my cock jerk as I watched her breasts rise and fall. “Emma,” my word came out a long ragged sound, barely even human, I needed to ask this before I went over the edge. “Are you sure you-.”

 My words were cut off by another kiss, my open mouth plundered with a desperation that made it impossible to focus on much of anything, as much as I was trying. “Brock,” her voice was a sensual purr in my ear, a wicked promise of pleasure and of satisfaction, her hair tickling my skin and making everything come alive. “I’ve been wanting you for so long I don’t remember what it’s like to not want you.” Her breath was scorching my skin, Everything in me screamed for me to take her, right here, right now.

 “Please,” the sound was more desperate than I wanted it to be. “Don’t regret me.”

 We barely got to the bedroom, our lips only separating to breath and to pull her shirt over her head. Mine lay behind us with every button popped off and I couldn’t bring myself to care. By the time we entered the bedroom I was naked but for my socks, going commando had it’s perks, and she was wearing nothing but her socks and a skimpy scrap of cloth that could liberally be called underwear. She barely got those off before I pressed against her and she fell onto the bed. The sight of her, pale skin and rich garnet hair spread over my chocolate brown sheets would burn itself into my thoughts to stay for an eternity. She looked exceptionally small and fragile there spread on the kind sized mattress, her eyes flashing gold from the streetlights outside that illuminated her just enough to be mouthwatering. “I am,” it came out as a low demanding growl that ripped itself out of my chest, “going to devour you.”

 “Oh yes,” her voice was a soft breathy moan that made everything inside me come to life, “please Brock, I need you. Now.” I couldn’t deny her when she used that tone with me.

 I climbed in on her, the scent of her arousal hitting me fully, it was sweet and spicy. It was intoxicating. But here, now, I was too eager for foreplay, too desperate to claim her to take the time to please her as much as I wanted to. Here, in this moment, I had lost my sanity, had lost the internal fight to hold on. I watched her eyes widen with a satisfaction as I slammed her wrists above her head. My breathing coming out in low desperate snarls now. Every conscious thought inside my head had stripped down until nothing inside me remained but my eager and desperate hunger to have her. She wasn’t denying me, she wasn’t even trying to stop me. Instead she spread her legs for me. Opening herself up for my hunger.

 I slid into her with a savage thrust, our hips connecting with the slap of connecting flesh, my hips against hers, accented with her moan and my growl. I knew what I wanted, I knew what I could provide for her, and I was going to make sure that she didn’t regret me. Never me, Never from my Emma.

 Her breasts bounced with every thrust I drove into her, her tight warmth gripping me as I slid in and out of her, her body so tight, so hot, so welcoming, for me. She cried out beneath my onslaught but her cries and whimpers did nothing but drive me forward, encouraging me to take her harder, deeper. Her words were broken down into meaningless sound that simply promised her pleasure. My sanity buckled beneath the animal like hunger as my teeth sunk into her shoulder, her cry of wanton pleasure driving me on harder. “More,” the sound of her voice was desperate, a woman on the edge, I increased my tempo, the thrusting turning erratic as my own climax climbed on me. “Oh gosh, yes!” She built to a crescendo, I could feel her whole body starting to shudder beneath me, her arms pulling at my grip on her wrists. I kept going, fueled on by the desperate need for more. More, more more! I came with a shrieking howl that ripped through my psyche as the white hot pleasure pain of my climax crashed over me, shredding me apart until nothing was left but a beautiful blank nothingness.

 I came back to myself nearly ten minutes later, my muscles still shook as my orgasm ricocheted through my system causing uncontrollable shudders and snarls. Emma simply held me close, my head to her breast, her fingers in my hair, her lips to the top of my head as she helped me ride out my orgasm. I shuddered and growled, my back tightening as an aftershock hit me, “Shh,” her voice was the sound of an angel and she pulled me a little closer. “I have you.” She did, all of me, it was why I had never dated anyone seriously. Emma had my heart. And I never wanted it back.

 I woke up to an impact on my chest. What the-. I cracked open my eyes to be staring in the black bead eyes of a very old stuffed seal; the white fur was a pale grey from age, one eye had the beginning of a spider crack in the center I had stopped with some epoxy. I looked up, the night before slamming into me with clarity as I saw the beautifully naked visage of Emma. She looked like a goddess. Red hair all a tangle and askew, her pale skin practically glowing making the spread of freckles that spanned her chest stand out even more. The belly button piercing glistened in the sunlight. She looked like she belonged here.

 “I can’t believe that you still have that little old thing.” Her voice held a smile but there was a catch to it.

 I shrugged a shoulder and ran my fingers fondly over the old stuffed creature. Long ago memories coming back again. “What can I say?” I looked up into her eyes, naked before her in ways that had nothing to do that I was only wearing a sheet. “Those are some of my favorite memories.”

 Her eyes took on a weepy expression as she set her coffee on my nightstand, climbing on the bed beside me. “I always thought you would be a great father.” I shrugged and looked down at the little creature. The taste of it still prominent in my mouth, even after twenty years. Days when Emma and I, as young children, had carried my stuffed seal and her matching one, around in our mouths, played with them, pretended that we were animals and they were our children. We spent hours playing house, rocking fussy babies and singing them silly songs, pushing them on swings, carrying them in our mouths as we walked on all fours. I looked up into her eyes again, her lips moving into a shaky smile as she squeezed my hand. “Would you,” she swallowed hard, I didn’t rush her, I couldn’t speak either. “Would you believe me if I told you I still have mine?”

 A phone call ruined the moment, I looked to the clock as Emma dug her phone out of the pocket of her shorts giving me an ample view of her backside, the skin still quite red from where my hips had been slamming against it. I smiled in masculine satisfaction. I set the small seal on the night stand on my side. “Hey babe.” It must be Chad, I could hear the yelling from here, I started to get up to leave them to their privacy, last thing Emma needed was a witness to Chad and his temper. I knew I had no room to judge him for it, since I had been just as bad if not worse during my glory days but still I had at least gotten it under control, Chad still had a long ways to go, if he ever managed to get there. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Emma sounded in a tiff, but she stopped me from rising by sitting next to me on the bed and pressing her head to my chest and met my raised eyebrow with a smile. Instead she started pulling down the sheet, her hungry look scanning every inch of skin she exposed. “I went with Brock back to his place, that’s why Desiree couldn’t find me.” She winked at me, as she finally exposed what she had been looking for and started stroking my hardening shaft, her touch silken soft and delicate. “I’m just getting breakfast ready.” She licked her lips as she moved down my body, I was too stunned to move. “Sausage right now.” She licked the head and I fidgeted, my whole body shaking beneath her ministrations as she swallowed the head for a moment before using her hand again. “Yeah,” I’ll talk to you later when we get to Mom and Peter’s.” She squeezed the base of my shaft again and sighed as she hung up the phone tossing it aside and going back to teasing me to madness. “So,” she looked up at me, a sensual seductive grin making my cock twitch in her grasp. “Think we can go for another round before we get our cars and get to your Dad’s birthday?” The only answer I could give her was a low growl making her chuckle before she took me into her mouth again.

[celestialsunglasses]

would you illuminate more on nick’s DID? tell us about his alters/headmates, headspace, talk about interacting with them? i’m really curious!

I’m gonna anxiously make a preface to this entire response. Because I feel like it’s important to note: I myself DON’T have DID. I can do all the research in the world, but I will never understand what it truly feels like. And I’ll never know everything. Especially since every person’s experiences are different.

So basically what I’m getting at is, on one hand I’m only human so I’ll probably fuck up a little bit, or misunderstand something and get it a little off. But on the other hand if I unintentionally write something here that really fucks up and stigmatizes or romanticizes the disorder without realizing it extremely badly: Call me the fuck out. Preferably privately, and preferably politely. But like whatever works is fine. I’m not trying to worsen the shitty stigmas that already follow DID. Also gonna high-key apologize for not mentioning it enough out of fear of fucking up horrendously like I used to before I did more in depth research (seriously how did I not get a call out for my past bullshit on the first blog or two, fuckin yikes) and kinda erasing it a little. That probably doesn’t help either as far as fictional portrayals of it are concerned. So I’m also sorry about that. And of course if this at all triggers anyone on principle I really encourage doing what makes you feel safest. No judgement.

(( Also: Sorry this took me some days to get to, I was working through anxiety about the above prefacing before deciding it’d probably be okay for me to post it as long as I was open to potential criticism about it. I can live with that possibility. But it’s gonna be a bit long so I’m gonna put it under a read more for dash courtesy, and for courtesy of maybe people who just don’t wanna see it, provided they aren’t on mobile where read mores are usually void. Sorry, mobile users. ))

To be clear, Nick has this from some childhood traumas, and not just from Lucifer. But some alters did form after the later traumas. I’m not necessarily going to go into massive detail on that part of things without a reason because that wasn’t the question. But there were some bad things that happened to him as a kid for this to be a disorder that formed.

So Nick has actually quite a few alters. Thirteen if he includes himself. And he does sometimes include himself. He is part of the system. He’s as much an alter as the rest of them. It’s taken him some time to accept that and not feel overly weird about it as he also considers himself “the original” if he has to explain it to someone. Though he’s not sure he likes to phrase it that way. But people understand it better when he does, so if they ask, that’s what he’ll say.

Of the other twelve alters. One of them is more like a fragment that helped him through some stuff by being really good at her function. He just calls her Mother because she helped in taking care of the baby he had when he was having a hard time getting up to do that because he was so stressed. She’s two dimensional in her ways and for now only serves her general function so she definitely doesn’t come out often.

And there is an alter he hasn’t actually been able to communicate with yet. Can’t find him in the headspace, yet. And most of the other alters are kind of unaware of him too. They’re only aware because Nick’s communicated it to a few of them. Nick only has an inkling because of a familiar voice in certain types of recurring nightmares. That’s how he learned his name. When he fronts, Nick is more likely to black out completely than with nearly any other one in his system. Adrian holds a lot of darker memories and honestly bitterness. A lot of it is from Lucifer. He’s not evil. He’s just angry and kinda taking it out on Nick in his sleep because he’s not sure what else to do yet. He can be very hyper defensive when he’s out. Can come off very rude and yells if he’s mad. Can also be known to get very drunk. Like dangerously drunk. Never stops frowning. Kinda paranoid. But he’s mostly inward because he finds it hard to be otherwise sometimes. He was created during the possession, so sometimes it’s hard to remember he can come out. He identifies with the way the body looks. So he looks like Nick.

And there is also the main one that’s most likely to front if Nick is feeling unsafe and his name is Andy. Andy split off when he watched his family get murdered. He’s there to be able to handle violent situations. So he’s a little intense. Kinda true neutral. He does things for himself to survive because he feels that’s how it has to be. Even if sometimes those things seem to be in a bit of a gray area morally. He’s not doing things to hurt other people, he’s doing things to be able to keep going. He could just as easily do good things, and does when the opportunities present themselves. But if he has to do a little shady business to get by he’s not opposed. There is a line or two for him that he won’t cross. But some things he’s less afraid of. He’s got a couple issues with emotion regulation and can sometimes be known to seem apathetic to a degree. After waking up after Lucifer he fronted primarily for about seven months because he could handle the situation he was in better than Nick could in his very emotionally raw state. He’s very protective of Nick and just wants him to be okay. So he took over for a minute to protect and handle violence like he was supposed to. With therapy he’s gotten a bit better about the way he deals with stuff, but he’s still a bit intense at times. He’s married to Mariah in the headspace. Andy sorta looks very similar to Nick, but he does have black hair in the headspace. Also brown eyes. And he lacks the scarring on his face that Nick has. His skin is alarmingly pale sometimes. He’s a little broader than Nick, more muscle than fat.

He has a primary protector named Mariah. She’s mostly an inner alter these days, and only actively comes out anymore during therapy or when Nick really needs her specifically to be out. And she can come out if asked for once in a while, but she usually needs to be asked for. Whether by Nick, or someone else. Her reasoning is that she doesn’t want to take up too much time of Nick’s life. She’s happy when he’s happy. And she wants him to have as much opportunity to achieve that before she comes out. She does however sometimes co-front to help comfort Nick. And give him words of encouragement, or to help him feel level headed when he’s scared. Nick’s pretty sure she’s the first alter he ever had. At the very least she’s the first he really remembers when he started learning he had DID to begin with in his 20′s. She’s maternal in a way. Kind. Safe and loving. She’s a positive influence in the headspace, she is also the one who protects a lot of the memories that could really hurt him if he was aware of them in an unsafe situation. And she’s a gatekeeper of sorts. Helps put up walls when other alters probably shouldn’t be present either. She’s married to Andy in the headspace. And together they help things run smoothly in the system. She has sharp features, dark eyes, dark hair, and honestly medium dark skin in the headspace. She’s curvy and has a warm smile.

His other main protector is Nina. She is more of an emotional protector age slides between 17 and 24 depending on the moment. She has blue hair, which caused Nick do dye his hair blue a lot in school. She is also kind, if not a little awkward in some ways. She’s the one who comes out if the situation isn’t dangerous to help with his emotions. In the inner world, she kinda protects the littles mostly. Like she would take over if one of the younger ones tried to come out while Nick was driving. Or if the situation wasn’t safe for a kid. She makes sure they’re doing well. She and Andy are the main alters to come out to help more actively than someone like Mariah. She’s much shorter in the headspace, her skin tone is white, but a little more sun kissed than the body’s. She also has a more athletic body type. She has shoulder length blue hair, and is very feminine otherwise.

He has four littles, three of which hold some form of memory or traumatic feeling to varying degrees (Max, Terry, and Haven). One of which holds no trauma memories and is there to be the kid he should’ve been able to be (Lana). One of the kids is blind (Haven), and when he’s fronting, Nick literally becomes legally blind because that part of his brain turns off until Nick comes back, or until someone else fronts. They’re all friends with each other to varying degrees. But Max and Terry are especially close with each other and even share a room in the headspace. The other two kids have rooms next door to theirs. Max is mixed race Chinese and White. He has reddish brown hair, and dark eyes. Haven is Indian, or at least partially so, has dark hair, but bright hazel eyes. Both Terry and Lana are white. Terry has short, curly red hair, and freckles. Eyes are green. Lana has long mousy brown hair down to her mid back and bright blue eyes. They all come out once in a while. And if it’s safe and appropriate timing, the older beings are okay letting them just be out for slightly longer amounts of time to be able to play and talk or communicate before one of the older ones will front for the sake of safety.

There are two not human alters. One is a magical dragon thing who is called Cairo, the other is a werewolf named Alec. Cairo is always an insider, and always has been. He is kind of a dream weaver. He creates good dreams. He doesn’t hold trauma memories. He’s there to help him feel that things aren’t all so bad. That when he can, he’ll help create a safe space even if there isn’t one outside of sleeping. This was a little easier before certain things happened. But he does sometimes still build safe dreams for Nick. Otherwise helps in protecting memories from surfacing in places where it’d be unsafe if he can at all keep one from surfacing. He speaks telepathically in the headspace in that he doesn’t need to move his mouth to speak. And his speech is very formal. Nick knows this is an alter because when he was figuring it out, his voice and presence was very consistent in his thoughts, daydreams, and normal dreams. He’s long and crimson red.

Alec does have some memories. Kinda used to be aggressive toward Nick before therapy and learning to communicate better. Now he’s still kind of pretentious, and not great with people. Can be a bit growly. But he does try, and it’s not an aggressive relationship anymore. Also not a fan of children. He won’t hurt them, but he tries to keep like at least three feet of distance between himself and children, including the littles, when possible because he’d just Rather Not. Does not get the appeal. They make him a little nervous. He’s thicker, and broader. He shares the trait of being blond like Nick, but his eyes look gold because werewolf traits. (Obviously the body is not actually a werewolf. there is no real shape shifting or lycanthropy, but the alter himself can shift in the headspace. And when he fronts if he’s shifted in the headspace, then the alter is more wolfy in personality.)

And then the last one is Victor. Personality based just a little bit on Chekov from Star Trek because he thought he was funny and that kinda helped him through some things growing up, so his head created someone like that. No trauma memories, just someone there to help make life easier. Does have the Russian accent. Nick’s pretty sure he’s 14. He doesn’t really say. the headmates who interact with him tend to at least like him. He kinda helps take care of the younger ones because he gets along great with Nina. They’re good friends. As you can guess, he looks kinda like Chekov from Star Trek.

They communicate primarily through journals that Nick keeps for them. And for a few of them, like Haven who can’t see, or others who might just prefer verbalizing to writing, he does little voice recordings in place of the journal to make sure the system is getting what they need, and to talk through things that might be bothering them, or to check that they’re doing fine. Allows them to communicate with each other through those means. He also kinda sometimes talks to them in his head, or allows them time to front and just Be for a short while. With some rules that they can’t do things that harm anyone or the body when fronting. And preferably not do anything that could get them all in trouble.

The only one he doesn’t have a hand on with communication is Adrian. He doesn’t talk to anyone, and kinda assumes he’s alone and meant to suffer silently. Mostly he doesn’t know the others exist, or that there’s an outlet and is only vaguely aware of Nick. And thinks it’s his fault that things are what they are. Again. Not evil, just angry and without a recognized outlet to talk about it as of yet. He doesn’t even know how to properly talk to Nick outside of nightmares and that’s not really talking. Nick hasn’t figured it out either because Adrian is more difficult to locate and communicate with. He’s trying, though. And sorta getting somewhere because he at least recognizes him now instead of being unsure like he was for a few years there because at times he was very quiet and seemingly dormant. And also the fact his headmates are somewhat unaware as things go. It’ll take some time to fully figure that situation out. If he were to really think about it he’d find Adrian in the space he created when Lucifer wasn’t putting him to sleep. It’s a very blank space. Meant to feel like nothing to give the illusion of lacking feeling. He doesn’t like finding that place. Doesn’t like thinking about that place.

The headspace itself is like a big house. Or a mansion, I suppose. And it has a huge yard. The alters have their own space and rooms to be in that suit them, who they are, and their needs. There is also a cellar that’s locked up, and it’s a little bit like a dungeon thing really to keep particularly bad memories from surfacing at unsafe times if it can be helped at all. Only Mariah has the key to the cellar for now. Everyone at least sorta respects that decision if nothing else.

[chaos2go]

crystalline-caverns replied to your post: And of course immediately after I see that nice...

Honestly, the fact that you still have to deal with this is unbelievable. She needs to grow up and own up. Nothing will get resolved if she continues to hide behind her lies. But then again, she seems to see no problem with it, so it just blows up more in your face. Which is just even more unfair. Geez, this is just ridiculous.

She never will though. I’m blocked by her because I was ‘too mean’. For various reasons. I honestly, HONESTLY still want to try and talk things over so at the very least I can stop being upset when I hear of or stumble upon her art. I am just so sick and tired of all these coincidences popping up. I post something, she posts something. Fera posts something, she does something. I’m not even kidding at the last one. Fera was doing those poses/expressions with her deku and even goes to state about how we forget about body language. The very next day there’s a picture that she ‘worked on between commissions’ of her deku ‘using motion’ that she did during a break (and the title of the dev alone sounds like she was angry about something but that might be reading too far into it XD). This time however she went to OLD stuff that she read, that she had to follow, and to a character she knows I’m still HURT over her other friend taking things off of. I can no longer prove that last bit as the deviation was altered and wayback machine doesn’t have it documented. But now I’m just rambling.

The point still stands that I am willing to talk things out even over a group discord/skype with plenty of people to witness so it isn’t the whole ‘my friend vs your friend’s bullshit that she thinks we tried to pull on her and the same her friend Blazing did on me. Speaking of blazing, yeah I don’t even feel bad calling her out. I already did on dA. At the very least I can say this individual was 18 at the time and honestly probably thought she was ‘doing right’. The thing that I find hilarious is that she blocked one of my friends, he spoke to her, she said she was willing to talk to me. It took me 6 months to even note her and she wanted ‘to make things better’. She talked to me once since then. Back to topic, Even if she didn’t want to ‘work things out’, I just wish she’d leave my shit alone. I wouldn’t be so gosh darn paranoid every time I saw her stuff and LOOK.

I won’t deny that towards the end of my talking to her, my words and actions got harsh. I did rant and vent too much. But I think most people that know me well enough understand my vents and rants are not meant to be personal. If it pertains to you and upsets you, come talk to me and let me know. More often than not it’s a GROUP of people that are doing something , not an individual. If I know a story/character, I am less likely to be upset about it AND AT THE VERY LEAST, I won’t say something to upset you even if I disagree. Just... don’t let your friends tell my friends to put me on a leash. Believe it or not, I can keep my mouth shut on topics that people don’t want to hear (which is what I feel like this topic has become in general XD; ). Also yes, I won’t deny that I worried about the directions her characters were going. I did outright state that to her. But when do you need to like someone’s characters 100% of the time? I’m sure as heck not everyone likes Dryst. They’re probably sick of me rambling about him all the time.

The fact she got super defensive in the first place I still say is a red flag. But I’m just angry venting now. Sorry XD;