#love the headache and bizarre dreams that came with it

[minimoll7]

Having one of those days where everything is just making me so mad rip

[ambrossart]

PAPER MEN

— CHAPTER 29

SUMMARY: All Evelyn Tozier wanted to do was make Derry High School a safer place for her kid brother. Well, somewhere between kissing Patrick Hockstetter and telling the principal to go f*** himself, things got a little off track. Now she’s stuck in the middle of a bizarre love triangle with two of Derry’s most troubled teens while her little brother and his friends hunt down a creepy, child-eating circus clown. This year, summer can’t come fast enough. PAIRINGS: Henry Bowers x Tozier!Sister; Patrick Hockstetter x Tozier!Sister WARNINGS: violence, profanity, sexual content, bullying, sexual assault, physical abuse, emotional abuse, all kinds of abuse, trauma, mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, child death, angst, lots of angst, recreational drug use, underage drinking, underage sex, love triangles, toxic relationships, slow burn, slow build

WORD COUNT: 5,305

MASTERPOST

MASTERLIST

The classroom door, closing in her face without a care—not with a slam but with a noiseless, ruthless click.

She’s not worth it.

How could Henry say that? How, after everything they had been through together, could he…?

She’s not worth it.

Evelyn still couldn’t believe it. No, she refused to believe it. This all had to be some kind of bad dream, didn’t it? Yeah, it had to be! Henry’s eyes weren’t black; they were blue, bright blue… the first blue eyes Evelyn had ever seen up close. She would never forget them for as long as she lived. They were wet with tears and overflowing with so much hurt and hate, but in the early afternoon sun, they sparkled beautifully, like two pools of clear blue water. How pretty, Evelyn had thought, captivated, and that’s when she felt the first tiny prick of something—some sad, sweet, aching feeling that wouldn’t have a name until nine years later, while Evelyn was pinned up against a brick building and blood was trickling from a fresh scrape on her elbow.

It didn’t mean anything, Evelyn.

… well, maybe not to you.

Henry had been crying the day they met (he would deny that if you asked him, of course, but he was). It was a warm August afternoon, two months after the Crisses had moved to Derry, one day before school was set to start. Evelyn, who was both excited and anxious about her first day of kindergarten, was loafing around Memorial Park and slurping on a grape popsicle that she had purchased from an old man with a pushcart. The popsicle only cost her a quarter. Evelyn, a five-year-old with no real concept of money, thought that was quite a bargain. Two more quarters jingled in her right pocket. They were supposed to buy popsicles for her friends, but neither of them had been able to come outside and play that day. Jimmy was running errands with his mom and Victor was in his room, nursing a headache. Vic always had a headache when Evelyn came around.

“C’mon, I’ll buy you a popsicle!” Evelyn urged from the doorway. “Any flavor you want.”

“I hate popsicles,” Victor Criss answered moodily, his voice muffled by the pillow he held over his face. “They’re sticky and they drip all over you.”

I think you’re just eating them wrong, Evelyn had wanted to say, but there was no convincing Victor Criss when his mind was made up, so instead, she used his quarter to buy herself another grape popsicle. Just one more, she thought. After all, it was the last day of summer vacation.

She consumed her frozen treat while watching the birds splash around in the birdbath. Throughout the afternoon more happy little birds came and went, came and went, came and went, the child’s interest waning with each passing flutter. Adults may have enjoyed their bird-watching, but Evelyn did not. She bought a third popsicle with her last quarter, gobbled it up guiltily, and then got a nasty brain freeze. Nature’s punishment, one might say. That’s what you get for being such a greedy little pig, Evelyn. She sat on the bench with her head between her hands until the pain subsided, and when it finally did, she noticed a little boy sitting all alone on the curb of Kansas Street. A first-grader, she guessed, or maybe a second-grader; even curled up like he was, the boy looked too big to be a kindergartener.

Regardless, Evelyn crossed the lawn, sat down next to him, and said with a sympathetic frown, “Did you get a brain freeze, too?”

The boy lifted his head off his knees and glared at her with the most frightening, intimidating, beautiful blue eyes Evelyn had ever seen.

“Go away,” he said in a low, threatening voice. Mesmerized as she was, Evelyn could barely hear him. 

She watched in silent awe as a tear escaped his eye and rolled down his face, leaving a silver streak of wetness on his cheek. It shimmered in the sunlight and was beautiful too, so beautiful that Evelyn couldn’t resist the mysterious urge that came her over next. Without thinking, she reached her hand toward his face and—

SLAP!

Evelyn’s eyes widened in startled disbelief. An unfamiliar pain, sharp and sobering, shot through each of her five foolish fingers and made her whole hand throb. Wincing, she drew it back into her chest and cradled it until the stinging stopped.

“Sorry,” she said in a small, contrite voice. “I forgot.”

Boundaries, Evelyn. It’s been ten years and you still haven’t learned your lesson.

Henry had been crying on that day too, on that sleepy Sunday right before freshman-year finals, the day Evelyn’s family went out to the movies and she stayed home because she had to study (her English book lay open on her desk and her highlighter on top of it, the felt tip uncovered, drying out in the sun. Evelyn would throw it away later that night, and feel a great deal of remorse as she did). On that day, Henry’s dad had whupped him so badly he could barely walk, and he showed up at Evelyn’s house, broken, bruised, and bleeding.

They were sitting side by side on Evelyn’s bed, upon her pink-and-yellow floral quilt. Henry was bent over and sobbing, sobbing about things Evelyn couldn’t change or fix, things she would never truly understand. At that moment, he seemed so much like the sad little boy Evelyn met in Memorial Park. Henry looked up at her with tears in his eyes—those bright, beautiful blue eyes—and Evelyn reached for him like she had back then. She half expected him to slap her hand away, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned into her touch like he was desperate for it, like he craved it, like he was a man freezing to death in the dark and Evelyn’s warmth was the last glowing ember of a dying fire. And just like before, Evelyn was overcome by that same strange feeling. Except it wasn’t nameless anymore. Henry had given it a name and then walked away and left her with it. It may not have meant something to him, but it meant everything to her. Evelyn had been nurturing this feeling for years, alone, keeping it secret, keeping it safe, and now it had grown too strong for her to ignore.

(You got greedy, didn’t you?)

Yeah, she thought. Yeah, I did.

It’s been ten years and I still haven’t learned my lesson.

But she paid for it, oh yes she did. Henry stormed out and slammed the door in her face. He left her sitting alone on her bed, upon her wrinkled floral quilt. He left her stunned and confused, shamefully pulling her bra straps back over her bare shoulders. He left her without answers, without any explanation. Evelyn ran after him, tried to talk to him. She reached for his arm and he ripped it away.

“MAYBE I’M JUST NOT INTERESTED, EVELYN. EVER THINK OF THAT?”

Yes, actually.

Yes, Evelyn had thought of that.

In fact, most of the time she thought of nothing but that.

She thought of it while she was having a panic attack during her English final (and all over a silly notebook that she didn’t even need). She thought of it while she was lying in the nurse’s office and listening to the old woman lecture her about the importance of school-life balance. She thought of it all summer long while Henry refused to answer her calls. When the guilt was so unbearable Evelyn could hardly eat or sleep. She thought of it while back-to-school shopping with her mom and brother. While she was designing those stupid fucking shirts. (And Stan Uris was right, the text wasn’t centered. If Evelyn had been more focused, she probably would have caught that.) She thought of it while Henry was tearing up those shirts. Stealing those shirts. When he roughed up her little brother and threw him in the trunk of Belch’s car.

He wouldn’t just do that for no reason, right?

He promised.

She thought of it while writing her statement for Henry’s expulsion hearing. Foolishly, she thought pouring her heart onto those four single-spaced pages would be enough to show how truly sorry she was. But of course it wasn’t. Evelyn didn’t know why she ever expected it to be.

She thought of it while she was trying on that sunshine yellow dress with the flouncy little skirt that went whoosh-whoosh every time she moved her hips. She thought of it while Hannah-Beth was complimenting her. While Henry was grabbing her. Glaring at her. Telling her she was dressed like a whore. She thought of it while she was following Manda Bosch down the hallway and imagining all the possible things that Henry had let her do to him. Because Manda Bosch had curves and was sexy, and Evelyn was just a scrawny little girl playing dress-up in her neighbor’s clothes.

If I had been wearing this dress that day, then maybe… no, probably not even then.

She thought of it while Martin Davers was slamming her down on the desk. While she was plummeting down into that cold, dark place. While that wicked little voice was laughing at her and saying, You got what you wanted, didn’t you? 

She thought of it while Henry was glaring at her with those terrifying black eyes—eyes that couldn’t possibly have been his—and telling her she wasn’t worth it.

Am I worth it? Evelyn thought suddenly, presently, while tears filled her eyes and fell silently down her face. I don’t even know anymore.

Henry had walked out and closed the door. There were no answers on the other side of it. 

Is this it? she asked herself. Is this really all my fault?

Do you hate me that much?

This question shattered Evelyn so completely that she lost her will to fight. She retreated into herself, into her guilt, into her grief, while Martin’s rough hands closed around her hips. He yanked her back towards him and pressed himself tightly against her, forcing her to feel every last inch of him.

His eyes darkened with cold contempt. “See, Tozier?” he said. “No one’s interested.”

“I know,” Evelyn murmured in a hollow, heartbroken voice, 

and she licked the blood from a tiny gash on her bottom lip.

How did I get here? she wondered. How did I go from sitting beneath the stars with Victor Criss, from watching him point out all his favorite constellations and trying to commit them all to memory, from gazing into his eyes, seeing the reflections of so many stars, and thinking, This is it. These are the only eyes I’ll ever wanna get lost in… 

How did I go from that, from such simple, unwavering certainty, to 

this?

Evelyn was sitting on the floor of the science lab now, curled up and cowering in the shadow of the assigned lab table that she shared with Mallory Stone. (We have a reading assignment due tomorrow, don’t we? Yeah, I think so…) Foggy as her memory was, Evelyn could hardly recall how she had arrived there. She remembered, vaguely, wanting to go to the restroom. Wanting to wash and scrub all the makeup off her face. Wanting to claw the curls out of her hair and smooth it out just as it was before. She remembered wanting this so badly that her feet started moving by themselves, slowly, wobbly, as if she was sleepwalking or lost in some drug-induced stupor. Evelyn only made a few steps before she heard… something. A soft, feminine clicking sound. Heels, yes, that’s what it was. Mrs. Lafferty’s heels. She was finally returning from her smoke break and grumbling about having to wait around for a tow truck. Someone had taken the air out of her tires (Henry Bowers, she falsely suspected), but Evelyn wouldn’t learn this until three days later, when Mrs. Lafferty stopped her in the hallway and asked if she was okay.

“You left so suddenly the other day, I thought there was some sort of emergency.”

“Oh, no,” Evelyn said stiffly, too stiffly. She had to remind herself to smile. “No, I just had to get home, that’s all.”

She couldn’t bear to let Mrs. Lafferty see her like that, to let anybody see her like that. When Evelyn heard those footsteps coming down the hallway, she sprang into a blind panic. She started twisting and pulling, twisting and pulling on doorknobs, praying that one of them, please God one of them, would show her some mercy and open. Out of the six doors she tried only one was unlocked. One. Desperate as she was, Evelyn never bothered to question why. She slipped inside the darkened lab, comforted by its silence and emptiness (or so she thought then), and found safety within its sturdy, familiar walls. 

I never should’ve gone to the library that day. If I hadn’t then maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. Maybe I’d be off studying somewhere with Jake, and blushing when he dragged his chair closer to mine. Maybe he’d ask me out. Maybe I’d say yes. Then we’d be dating and I’d become the First Lady of the Student Council. (That does have a nice ring to it…) We���d date all through college, probably get married after I graduate, then we’d have some kids, get a dog, and—boom!—there’s your Christmas card, Hannah. I’d have a lovely, perfect life.

Why didn’t that sound more appealing to her?

Because I’m stupid, she thought. Because I just had to go to the library that day. 

Evelyn went there to type up her summer essay, and when she came out—

It didn’t mean anything, Evelyn.

No, it didn’t. She saw that now. 

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t special. Henry didn’t kiss me because he liked me. He kissed me because he could. Because he felt like it. Because my feelings don’t matter to him. They never have. 

Evelyn felt her eyes begin to water, but she did not cry. She would not cry, not over him. 

You need to stop, she told herself. You need to stop pushing. You need to stop forcing. You need to stop chasing after people who don’t want you. It always ended the same: with her feeling angry, embarrassed, disappointed, and so very tired.

(Behind the teacher’s desk, a student stirred from his sleep, sat up, stretched out his long arms, and stared drowsily around the room.)   

I’m done, Evelyn thought, and this decision didn’t come easily, not like it had with Victor Criss. It wasn’t quick, wasn’t painless. Evelyn had to reach deep inside her heart, breaking through layers of thick bone and protective tissue, in order to find this tiny… seedling. Yeah, that seemed like the best comparison. A tiny seedling like the one she had in Mr. Wallander’s eighth-grade agriculture class (Henry let me copy). Evelyn’s seedling was supposed to grow and blossom into this beautiful, colorful flower, but it never did. It just shriveled up and died. And Evelyn didn’t know if it was her fault, if she had watered it too little, or too much, or if it was just a bad seed right out of the packet. It didn’t matter anymore. It was dead. Now Evelyn had to dig it up, rip it out from the ground, and throw it into the—

Mr. Beecroft’s chair groaned against the floor. Someone else was in the room.

Evelyn stifled a gasp with her hands and ducked down, dropping her head into her shoulders. Her brown eyes bulged with fright. The door was unlocked. Oh my god, the door was unlocked! 

Footsteps emerged from behind the teacher’s desk. Closer. Closer. These weren’t the quick, delicate steps that Evelyn had heard in the hallway. These were heavier and unhurried. They crept forward with a slow draaaag and clump, draaaag and clump. 

Closer. 

(Clump) 

Closer. 

(Clump) 

The footsteps stopped behind her—on the other side of the table—and now the temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees! Evelyn’s bones froze with her next breath. Goosebumps broke across her skin. She stayed quiet, listening over the frantic thumping of her heart, and heard the table creak softly, ever so softly, as if straining beneath an unexpected weight. Silence followed. In it, Evelyn heard the slow pull and push of respiration. But it wasn’t her own. No, this was coming from behind her, from over her right shoulder. Terrified, Evelyn turned her head towards it and saw

(the Cheshire Cat)

the slow-blinking, heavy-lidded eyes of Patrick Hockstetter. 

His face broke into a sleepy grin. “Hey,” he said, “it is you… I thought I was still dreaming for a second.” 

Dreaming? Evelyn thought. What do you dream about, Patrick?

“Patrick, what are you doing here?”

He was leaning on his elbows over the lab table, his left arm tucked close to his chest, right palm cradling his chin. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he drawled, letting his eyes leisurely travel her face as he had done so many times before (often, admittedly, without Evelyn knowing). He swam in the deep pools of her eyes, hiked along the rolling hills of her cheeks, climbed up the gentle peak of her nose and looked out, admiring the enchanting landscape below. It was a well-loved path, somehow both foreign and familiar, that held endless fascination for him.  

Today, however, Patrick's journey was cut short. There was a crack in the road. 

“Someone broke you,” he said, displeased. “Now who would go and do a thing like that?”   

Evelyn opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, she saw Patrick's hand coming toward her face, slowly, skeptically, like he was testing the realness of an optical illusion in a trick mirror. Evelyn shivered at his touch. His skin was cold, dry, and cracked—scaly almost, like running your hand over a peeling sunburn. Patrick traced his thumb over her bleeding lip with careful concentration, his face slack and expressionless, eyes staring blankly… until he saw Evelyn flinch; then they flashed with curious excitement. Unnerved, Evelyn drew back slightly, and his eyes returned to their usual grey-green dullness. He gave her lip one last stroke, withdrew his hand, and observed his blood-stained thumb with a frown.

“Martin did this, didn’t he?”

“What?”

“I passed him in the hallway on my way here. He seemed really amped up about something.” Pensively, he rubbed his thumb and forefingers together, smearing Evelyn’s blood across his skin. To himself, he said, “Now I know what.”

He climbed onto his palms, hoisted himself onto the table, threw his long legs over the edge, and dropped to the floor beside her. 

“Did he hurt you?” 

Patrick’s voice was flat and apathetic, but it also carried an eerie undertone that made Evelyn hesitant to answer. No doubt about it, there was something menacing lurking behind that question. It was like a venomous snake stalking through tall, tall grass. Evelyn could almost hear it slithering between the letters of his words, listening, waiting, preparing to spring out and attack. 

“No,” she said, “not really. I think he just wanted to scare me, to show me what he could have done… if he wanted to.” 

But Martin hadn’t wanted to. He wasn’t aroused when he pressed himself against her. For some reason, he did it anyway. He forced Evelyn to feel every inch of his disinterest, and that hurt her in a completely different way.

But probably not in the way Patrick meant.  

Patrick nodded and the snake in his voice slithered away. “Well lucky you, then.” 

Evelyn inhaled sharply. Her whole body tensed with shock. “What?”

Patrick shrugged. “Lucky you, right? Or did you wanna get raped?”

“What?” Evelyn hunched forward, her face contorting with anger and pain. “How can you even say that?”

Patrick’s face didn’t change. 

“I’m just asking you a question, Evelyn. Did you want him to rape you? Would that have made you feel validated as a woman?”

“No!” she said. “Of course it wouldn’t!”

Patrick nodded. “Then lucky you. Right?” 

A hot tear slipped down her cheek, dripped onto her lips, and rolled back onto her tongue. “I guess so,” she whispered. 

Defeated, Evelyn turned away and wiped her wrist across her face. Then she drew her knees into her chest, put her chin on her knees, and went quiet for a minute. When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse and hard to hear.

“He ripped my skirt.” 

“Hmm?”

“The back of my skirt,” she said, “he ripped it.” 

And that hadn’t hurt, either. In fact, it was perfectly painless. Evelyn didn’t even notice it until after Martin had already left. Then she looked, she saw, and immediately burst into tears. 

“It’s not even mine,” she went on, laughing miserably. “I borrowed it from one of my neighbors. I dunno how I’m supposed to return it now.”

Her laughter rose, fell, and gave way to ugly sobs. Patrick listened but made no effort to comfort her. He simply stared at the tattered remains of her yellow skirt, his eyes somber and thoughtful.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he said. “I really liked that skirt.” 

Evelyn dried her eyes and looked at him. “How did you get in here, Patrick?”

“Hm?” He lifted his gaze back to her face and smiled his usual mischievous smile. “I stole a set of keys from the janitor.” 

Evelyn frowned, unsurprised. “Do you often sleep at school?” 

“Often?” Patrick seemed to contemplate this word for a minute. “Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

“You can’t sleep at home?”

“Not usually.” 

“Why?”

“Why?”

Evelyn nodded gravely. 

“Hmm…” Patrick sat back, pursed his lips together, and seemed to slip away for a moment. Where he went, Evelyn would never know, but there was something deeply unsettling about his vacant stare. That ghostly expression would haunt Evelyn’s dreams for days. 

And so would his answer. 

“It gets really loud at night,” Patrick said. “Makes it hard for me to sleep.” 

Loud? Evelyn thought, horrified. What does that mean?

Even more disturbing was the tone in which he said it. Patrick’s voice was dreadfully trancelike and far away, still lost in whatever nightmare his mind had wandered back to. His house, that perfect little white house on Ridgeline Road. Evelyn could see it now in her mind’s eye. At night, it transformed into something else entirely. At night, it became a crypt, a place of shadows and gloom, a place where the dead sleep and the living lie awake in terror, driven mad by the sound of endless, restless silence. Evelyn could see herself in this place—in this purgatory—and it took all her strength not to scream. She ran away from it, ran toward the light, and felt…

her hand close around Patrick’s, as if she was trying to save him, too. 

This subconscious gesture freed Patrick from the prison of his innermost thoughts. He reemerged in a near daze, glanced down, and observed their joined hands with a look of surprised pleasure. Evelyn was surprised too, by how tightly she was holding his hand. Still holding his hand. Mumbling an apology, she loosened her grip and threw her hand back onto her lap.

Boundaries, Evelyn.

I’ve never really believed in boundaries, a phantom voice whispered, but Evelyn didn’t want to think about that right now. 

Instead, she said to Patrick, “So you sneak inside empty classrooms to sleep?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“That sounds really uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah… isn’t it?”

Patrick shrugged. “It’s no more uncomfortable than sleeping anywhere else. Of course…” His eyes rolled up to her face, and his lips curled into a sly, seductive smile. “If you were with me, Evelyn, I don’t think I’d be able to sleep at all.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Evelyn thought, He’s doing it again, isn’t he? He’s trying to distract me from something… and it was working. 

Evelyn’s face scrunched up with utter bewilderment and suddenly she heaving with laughter! 

“What’s so funny?” Patrick asked, amused. 

“You,” she said, still laughing. “I just told you I was assaulted and now you’re making sex jokes!” 

The absurdity of this broke her up all over again. Tremors of laughter rippled through her body like the most powerful, wonderful earthquake. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. Her breath came in short, joyful gasps. Her busted lip split open wide, making her wince with terrible pain, but even that didn’t stop her laughter. It continued until it was no longer needed, until Evelyn’s chest felt light enough to breathe again. She sighed gratefully as it left. Then she pressed her knuckle to her injured lip and held it there until the bleeding stopped. 

“It’s oddly comforting,” she admitted afterward. 

“Is it?” Patrick said. 

She nodded. “A little bit.” Not enough to heal her completely, but enough to make her forget for a little while. “I don’t wanna be treated differently. I don’t wanna be treated like a victim.”

Evelyn looked into Patrick’s eyes as she said this, hoping to find a faint flicker of warmth and compassion, but all she saw was her own tragic reflection. His eyes were as empty as they always were. 

“You should go home,” Patrick said. That was all he said. 

Evelyn hid her disappointment behind a shy, awkward smile. “Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out how to do that.” 

“What do you mean?” Patrick asked. 

“I’m supposed to go to the office and call my mom. That was the plan, anyway, but…” Her bottom lip throbbed. “If I go in there looking like this, Miss Stoker’s gonna ask me what happened and…” Suddenly, it was like she was reliving it all over again. Seeing Martin standing in the doorway. Hearing the door moan as it closed, trapping her inside with him. Feeling the edge of the desk digging into the tops of her thighs like a dull knife. Feeling it saw viciously at her skin while she struggled and sobbed helplessly. While Henry opened the door and—

“Gotcha,” Patrick said, not needing to hear anymore, and that might’ve been the kindest thing he ever did. 

Until—

Without another word, Patrick climbed to his feet, walked out of the lab, and let the door close behind him. Evelyn was certain he had abandoned her and went back to detention. (That was Patrick’s way, wasn’t it?) She resigned herself to this sad reality and tried to move on as best as she could. She started thinking of excuses to give Miss Stoker. The split lip she could explain easily enough. Oh, clumsy me, I ran straight into a door again. That had happened to Evelyn in the second grade. Mason Keller was supposed to hold the door for everyone as they were going out to recess. That was the rule. First in line holds the door. Mason didn’t hold it long enough. Not nearly long enough. It swung backwards and smacked Evelyn on the right side of her face, giving her a nasty cut on the outer corner of her eye. Fortunately, the cut wasn’t deep enough to require sutures. Less fortunate, of course, was the timing of this accident. It happened right before Picture Day. For her picture, Evelyn wore a striped purple shirt and a matching ribbon in her hair, but all anyone noticed was the giant butterfly bandage in the corner of her eye. Mason Keller was wearing one in his picture, too. Earlier that morning, Henry Bowers had snuck up behind him on the playground, tapped him on the shoulder, and sucker-punched him. 

Yes, the cut Evelyn could explain. But the tear in her skirt… how was she supposed to explain that?

Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to. At least not yet, anyway. A few minutes later, Evelyn heard those heavy, dirty boots dragging and clumping down the hallway again. The doorknob turned, the door opened, and there was Patrick Hockstetter, clutching a long black coat in his hand.

“Problem solved,” he said, and threw it to her.

Evelyn held it warily. “Whose coat is this, Patrick?”

“Does it really matter?”

“No.” 

Evelyn didn’t care who this coat belonged to. She didn’t care if this was their favorite coat or their only coat. It didn’t matter. Right now, Evelyn just wanted to go home. 

She stood up and slipped her arms into the sleeve holes, only making it about three-quarters of the way through. The final quarter of fabric flopped limply over her hands and looked ridiculous. The hem, also too long, stopped somewhere between her calf and her ankle. She figured the owner of this coat must have been at least six feet tall. Evelyn, who stood just over five-foot-three, was currently being swallowed by it. She didn’t mind, though. The wool coat was warm, soft, and made her feel safe. 

“Thank you, Patrick.” 

He smirked. “Feels weird to say that, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit,” she confessed, blushing.  

She went out the door and into the hallway. Patrick, of course, followed. 

“You know you don’t have to walk me,” Evelyn told him. 

“I’m not,” Patrick replied. “I’m just going back to detention. Figured I should make an appearance before they mark me absent. Otherwise, they’ll just add another day to my sentence.” 

“I’m pretty sure they already did that, Patrick.” 

“Probably,” he said, unbothered. 

His footsteps slowed as they turned the corner. “Hey,” he said softly. “Why do you say my name so much?” 

“Huh?”

“You say my name a lot. Why do you do that?”

“What? I don’t…” Evelyn closed her mouth for a minute, speechless. How often did she say his name? Surely no more than anyone else’s. Yes. Surely. She shrugged it off and said, “I say everyone’s name, Patrick. It’s polite.” 

“Okay,” Patrick said, but he didn’t seem to believe her. 

They walked in silence the rest of the way, Evelyn swimming in her stolen coat and Patrick whistling under his breath. When they reached the office, Evelyn thanked him again. This time, she had to force herself to omit his name. Patrick noticed this omission, grinning as he did. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Evelyn finished. Then—

“Do you want me to pay him back?”

Evelyn’s hand fell from the doorknob and she turned. “What?”

“Martin,” he said. “Do you want me to pay him back? I will if you want.”

His smile was calm and compliant. I will if you want. Why did that phrase make the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end? Was it something in his voice? In his eyes? His smile? Evelyn didn’t know, but something made her think of Denny Booker laughing madly in his kitchen. The mask slips. It slips and you see the monster underneath. Was that what she was seeing now? Was the monster here and knocking on the door? 

I will if you want. 

I will if you want. 

It sounded less like a proposition and more like a… plea. 

“No, Patrick,” she said, shivering. “No, I don’t want you to do anything.”

Patrick frowned… or did Evelyn only imagine that?

“Okay,” he said, still smiling, and then he walked away.

Once he was out of sight, Evelyn went into the office and asked to borrow the phone. Before she dialed her home number, she was struck by a chilling thought: 

What if I’d said yes?

_____________________

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The Young Ones - Time 🕰️

Original air date: 5.6.84

Reviewed by: @rikhead

Greetings to the internet. Passionate fan here of the Young Ones and Rik Mayall from the US. Went with “Time” being, I think one of my favorites. Makes me smile from the beginning to the end, no matter how awful yet lovable the boys are!

Brief warning, I watch the show mainly just for them. very rarely I’ll watch the puppets or side characters just cause, I lost my interest, so not a complete review. Sure I’m not the only one who does this, but the musical guests most definitely too.… onward into the review.

So this is a wackier episode just from the introduction, and some different theme music. So it’s a parody of the American tv show “Dallas”, but was popular in the UK. Never seen it. Very amusing how we’re introduced to the boys playing different parts: Rick dives right into a pool, Mike is.. lying dead in a coffin, ok, Neil looking like a cool smokin’ cowboy, and Vyvyan poking an actual cow is adorable, and lots of girls. So the intro ends and it’s just Rick and a woman. Ok, I know sometimes the sets did look cheap, but the makeup/costumes? The BBC did well always in my opinion. Rik slightly looks like “Rick” with the pigtails, but free of acne! And BRIGHT pearly white teeth haha. Clearly some drama going on about oil and Rick being dramatic as usual. He goes to see “ET”, who surprise, is Neil.

Rick’s exaggerated bad American accent is, quite a sight. As an American, I laugh with pain to be honest haha. Anyways, so Neil changes something and they celebrate not till Vyvyan shouts, interrupting Neil’s “DREAM”…*sigh* the cliché dream sequence, but Neil’s moaning that his dreams are not a reality makes up for it. Vyyvan’s screaming at the church choir basically, with it being a Sunday, everyone goes to church, and the boys sleep in till the afternoon usually. Great yelling haha. We cut to our “hero”, a sleepy Rick in a quite larger version of his bed. Had to be bigger to fit two in, wait what?! Rick is surprised just like us, a woman is snoozing in his bed. He has a perfect reaction, until he turns into a pervy; crawls under the covers, snorting god knows what else.. but lifts the covers, pants-less, covered in filth, green spray paint in his hair, and even a streamer stuck in his undies, eww haha.

You can tell Rick is a moody young one, being concerned and questioning where she came from, but also delighted the gods gifted him, someone, to finally love, haha. Like a mischievous scamp, he puts his trousers on, and leaves to find the others (finally a plot) Vyvyan still being his usual self, trying to solve problems, is banging his head against the wall to try to stop his headache. Clearly not interested in Rick’s dilemma, Rick scurries off to the kitchen, where Mike’s sorting through newspapers.. why he has so many? We will never know why. Rick wanders in like the usual trait in every episode: trying to prove he’s cooler and more liked than Vyv.. his mannerisms are a true representation of series 2, being more cartoony and chaotic. Rick goes about doing something he never does, making tea. Normally the others bully Neil into doing all the cooking and cleaning. This goes to show Rick will do anything for love perhaps, haha. He goes about trying to outsmart with “oh we need more cups” but fails. Quite the scatterbrains they are. Bizarre, they can’t help wonder if Mike was pulling a joke on us., with how many times they break the 4th wall, or it’s an illusion, ah never mind, let’s move on. 

Rick’s got the tea, on his merry way upstairs when, oh no, Neil’s up and bumps into him, or Rick bumps into him. The hot tea scorches all over Rick’s shirt. Another great moment with what Rik was capable of in the screaming department. He isn’t much better when he gags at things, telling Neil to lick up the tea as it’s soaking into the carpet already; mad man haha. Great fight between them, calling Neil a pig with no snorts *gasp*. Vyyvan interrupts their fight with a “boom”, stick of dynamite going off his head to further attempt to cure the headache hangover. Good gag, then comes.. um. Well quite normal for the show to go off into random side events that lead into nothing. We’re instantly in a cheese shop, with Rik as the worker (how’d they clean him up so well? Lol) and Alexi running in. Could be one of the shorter Balowski family appearances in an ep, just appearing here and towards the end of the ep. Basically it is a homage to the Monty Python skit, which the guys grew up on. Very silly and making a 4th wall reference. 

**Then comes the “main focus”. Stories do not stay long in this universe, but the woman in Rick’s bed and what Neil asks about, could call it the main focus. Neil asks about a woman spotted in the bathroom (ooh er) and Rick decides to tell a tall-tale or a poor one, on the spot. Plus making goofy expressions: “If you got a spare couple of days”, wobbling his head and smirking, iconic. 

Funny still he loses confidence when Neil asks him to go into detail, and Rick not being brave enough to know at times, or possibly has never “done it”. Hilarious Vyv is unsure listening.. and then barfs right on Rick’s body. Then suddenly the mystery woman appears, and hilarious Rick goes after straight up to her face and she isn’t phased. Jennifer was such a pro. Looking like Cinderella, hilarious everyone’s reactions. The vibe is Rick taking charge introducing everyone, and then suddenly it’s all quiet, and awkward (in a funny way). Especially love Vyv using his lips acting puzzled, slowly putting the bomb box down, and cocking his head, slowly inching over to the table. Then Neil breaks the silence. Mike of course standing off to the side offering to be her man. Rick then does another not-normal thing! Make breakfast, out of frustration everyone not following his way of treating their guest. 

Very strange episode indeed. We find out the woman’s name is Helen.. Mucus oh boy, haha. Favorite part maybe, is Rick re-entering the room with the most pervy moves ever, or basically Richie from “Bottom” in the making, haha. Silly but also prior to this, Vyvyan sitting close to Helen and staring at her.. “jugs”, as the Brits call them, breasts. Yeah, no one says anything, but Rick thrusting everyone stares lol. Perhaps if they criticize Vyvan, he’ll “kill them”.. eek. Rick tries to cover his body language up with dancing, and their radio seems to be stuck on the choir channel haha. Vyvyan roasting Rick is great, and think some of us wouldn’t mind dancing with Rick *wink*. Helen then breaks the ice, spilling Rick’s story out of here. He didn’t have sex with her, she climbed through a window while the boys were gone (who knows where), and was simply sleeping in Rick’s bed without him knowing. Here we can insert theories on where the boys were, and this “party”.

Maybe they were at someone else’s house or the pub, and then they all came over to their house, with Neil mentioning Rick passed out from drinking cider haha.. the possibilities are endless. Anyway, uh oh, Rick lied about it, he’s blushing and scrambling, and Vyvyan cuts into the well-known line, “Rick is still a virgin!” and Rick shouting “I am not!!”

Funniest thing ever, when people look at other episodes, this moment I swear is one of the iconic ones, even when some readers may recall in the 5th Bottom live tour, Rik and Ade did brief impressions of the Young Ones: Rick about how “Grate” he is/ slurring his words and Vyvyan asking if we got a video and “virgin, virgin”; good stuff haha.

So I suppose it’s the climax, next big conflict, Rick and Vyv go off into a fight, throwing stuff and poor Neil being thrown in as well. You think it’s over as Rick smashed their giant record player over vyv’s head, and says a rude joke “Who wants a boiled egg?” (which you might now Rik used in his standup shows frequently), but Vyv pops the door open and pokes Rick with a fork, leading the fight to continue upstairs. A shame it isn’t shown much. 

Suddenly the radio pauses the church music and a newsflash comes on, revealing Helen isn’t who she seems to be (a dangerous killer!).. The camera zooms in, revealing the DJ is a pirate on a boat. Get it, pirate radio, har har.. I always skipped it cause I could care less about most of the side characters, but must say rest in peace Robbie Coltrane. It is incredible the amount of times he guest starred, and such a loved character in Harry Potter.

But after that scene, we cut back to reality, Neil tring to fix the radio but gets knocked, and Helen ends up throwing the radio and silly Mike doesn’t realize she is a murderess. She keeps knocking Neil out and Mike keeps trying to put the moves on her. Then finally back to that other “plot”, Vyv’s in Rick’s bed (ooh err) gives him a purple-nurple, and literally pounces on him haha. Back downstairs, Mike suggests they eat “Breakfast in bed”, then *BOOM* down comes Rick’s over-sized bed through the ceiling, with Rick and Vyv in it. Still funny how big it is, compared to “Sick”, you can see they have little personal-sized beds. Props to them for pulling off the stunt. Makes my brain hurt seeing how that must’ve felt falling that far down. Lots of shouting from the two, throwing and Rick bouncing haha. Helen’s blocking Mike from hearing the news, while he takes it delightfully, in fact, no one is listening. 

Appears to be Neil only who slightly heard about Helen being dangerous, but before he can say much more, Vyvyan carries him up to fight Rick, who is armed with a chair, then suddenly a sound goes off. The lightbulb apparently is gone, literally as a puppet walking out the door. Rick calls out Neil for stinking so bad, but I think it’s a combo of everyone’s smell, look at Rick! Lol Might be the only time they’ve used animation on a puppet.

Another moment of Neil complaining he does all the work, then Rick says something mentioned in another episode as well “What about *name of musical guest*?” He did this in the party episode “Interesting” too. It’s like they’re acting like the bands already live in the flat, or Rick has magic powers: any band he mentions appears, or their door is always open to strangers? More possibilities there too lol. The musical guest here is Amazulu, jazzy ska type music. Not too bad, in fact for a period the song was stuck in my head for days. Have learned the band would usually play a faster version of their songs to help with run time, or maybe more time for the “plot” lol. Fun song with seeing the guys dance to it. Rick being unsure how to and then talks to SPG is great, or literally talking to himself, being the same voice of the hamster haha.

Vyv and Rick sneak through on the stage to grab wood for the next bit, (with clearly Rick hitting on the lead singer haha) and then the song ends. Awfully nice of Vyv calling them “sweet”, but then he and Rick show them the door. So it’s Rick, Vyv, and Mike standing together on a ladder and Neil on a piece of wood they carried over. They go ranting on random meaningless stuff, with Neil questioning why they couldn’t have used the ladder to change the lightbulb, but Rick stops the chaotic talking to just get on with it.But then he has to say “for Cliff’s sake” haha oh Rick. And great, a poop joke, wouldn’t be the show without those. So they all jump, Neil goes flying through the ceiling, ouch. They’re gonna have to get it fixed! Awfully nice of the guys to try and pull Neil down, instead of leaving him to fend for himself. 

A reminder of how nasty they are, as they’re pulling Neil’s legs, they find cornflakes in his shoes to hide from Vyv. Then of course Rick reminds us he puts sticky labels on his belongings, but then Vyvy just eats them. He really must be related to Eddie of ‘Bottom’, who doesn’t mind eating or drinking anything bahaha. They pull anyways, and Neil crashes down with a new lightbulb, until Vyv smashes it on Neil’s head, who goes unconscious again. The Vyvy returns chasing Rick haha. 

Mike tries to pull the moves again on Helen, who decided to leave, and as she hits the door, it falls on her! *gasp*

Knocked down by a horse and door, in walks.. a knight. Sure, cause anything is possible. 

We learn he’s very easy-going and peaceful, until hitting Neil unconscious.. I don’t know.

But we go right upstairs, Vyvyan’s still after tormenting Rick, and happened to find some anti-tank gun, and shoots comedically at Rick. All the shots miss, and cuts to some townspeople from the same era as the knight…. who carries passed out Helen and Neil over. Neil falls in mud. Shot booms and hits the people, who then get angry and blame Neil and chase after him. Good plot.

Then the famous picture happens here, as Vyv and Rick conclude their.. whatever you’d call that, Rick has a “I AM A VIRGIN” sign on his neck, and apparently pays Vyv for being wrong? Or maybe for all the damage they caused to the house lol.. but not paying for the shirt he has to get made saying he’s a virgin. Oh Rick, we still love you. Suddenly Neil is back home, panicking about what just happened. They all suddenly realize there was a time-warp. Oh no, they’ve been warped to the Middle Ages! Rick’s reaction is hilarious, looking delighted at living in the past.. but then they realize no telly existed back then! One of the best lines comes from Neil, “Oh, no! I'll die if I miss Scooby Doo!”

Everyone runs around and “panic” means to hang Neil up, I got nothing… but still the telly works?

I always skipped this part, Alexi’s characters for me, some are interesting to keep watching (like Mr Balowski) but then some like the jester character here and, the guy from “Interesting”, the party ep, I lost interest. So it’s a medividal game show basically, with Helen on it, and even the woman that appeared in Bottom in the dating episode. Always wild to see the same people pop up in the same shows.

But finally near the end, their tv watching is interrupted by the angry mob, then in typical young ones fashion, it ends.. the boys could care less  about being in danger and end up playing cards, as the mob wanders around the house, and Neil gets bonked, THE END!

Typical crazy episode, seems to be low on most Young Ones episode ranking lists, and I don’t know, I consider it underrated, but I can see why some would prefer other eps, funnier lines or the music group.. At times, not much happened in this ep, but I feel it made me laugh more than “Boring” did. It’s a classic Vyv and Rick fight, Mike does quite a bit, and even Neil has some happy moments; it’s an ep that deserves to not be forgotten! Hope you enjoyed me review.

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Chapter 24

Chad woke up on Monday morning with a headache. What a weird dream, he thought to himself! I can’t believe that I would ever dream about anything as gay as that dream. It was so weird—this Master Bob guy, being fucked by a couple of dogs, sucking on Master’s cock, going shopping with Christy for new clothes, sucking off the starting guard on Arlington’s basketball team and then sucking off Master’s cock and sharing it with Christy. Too strange! Even coming home was bizarre. He came home dressed in Christy’s pink camisole top and white hot pants that made him look like a fag to begin with. His parents thought nothing of it and he showed them all the new outfits that he had bought. He even modeled a couple of the really gay ones for them and they seemed very supportive of his new lifestyle.

Oh, well. I guess even the best of us ladies men have these kinds of weird dreams, Chad said to himself. He jumped out of bed and into the shower. He paid particular attention to making sure that he was really clean. I can’t wait to get to school. I’m going to get into one of those cheerleader’s pants tonight. Suddenly, he got real sick to his stomach. He couldn’t stand it. His mind was focused upon a naked cheerleader’s cute ass and it was making him sick. Chad then remembered his dream and sucking off a guy’s cock. As the image replaced the girl’s image in his mind, the sickness left and Chad began to get really turned on. His little dick started to get hard. Chad didn’t seem to even notice that his cock had shrunk to the size of a five year olds’ dick. “God—I’ve got to get a hold of myself and stop these gay thoughts!”

Chad got out of the shower and dried off. He paid particular attention to how his hair (was it longer?) was styled. He even put on some really great smelling aftershave, which he never did. Chad went over to his underwear drawer. He pulled out a tight fitting thong. Although he had always worn boxers, he really loved how these tight white thongs fit him (wow, do I look hot!). He then picked out one of his new shirts (tighter than he normally wore). He grabbed one of his new low rider jeans and pulled them on. He loved the look of the outfit on him and really liked the fact that the t-shirt rode up on him and exposed his stomach. Chad then finished the outfit with a new pair of shoes. He really thought he looked good today. As he looked at himself in the mirror, Chad didn’t even notice how he put his hands on his hips and modeled much like a female high fashion model.

Breakfast was a blur. Chad’s mom kept commenting on how good he looked and how much she liked his new look. Chad gobbled down his breakfast and headed out to school. When he arrived, some his buddies yelled over to him. When Chad waved back to them, he didn’t even realize how limp wristed the wave was. He walked in with the guys to his first period class. He kept noticing the guys walking in front of him. He thought how great they looked in their jeans. He could not keep his eyes off of their tight asses in their tight jeans. Inside, Chad started boiling over. He hated these thoughts—he wasn’t gay. But he could not seem to stop gay thoughts from coming fast and furious. He kept thinking about guy’s bodies and his little dick started to get hard. When his buddy Jeff showed up, Chad could not help but think about the package Jeff had in his jeans. He knew that Jeff was hung like a racehorse and he was so turned on by that thought.

All through the morning, Chad struggled with his thoughts. He kept telling himself that he was a regular guy but every time he would look over at a girl and think about her (which was his normal classroom activity), he would get sick to his stomach. He would then quickly switch and start thinking about some guy in class and how hot his body was and how much Chad would enjoy caressing it. He would get so excited from this and the pleasure would almost take over his body. The guys were starting to get creeped out by the way that Chad was staring at them.

Luckily, Chad managed to make it to lunch. He fully intended to sit with his buds on the basketball team but then he saw Lance Peterson sitting in the corner by himself. Chad would normally never give Lance the time of day except to give the queer a hard time. But today, well, Chad saw Lance in an entirely new light. He could not believe how handsome Lance was and how hot his body was. Chad felt himself getting so turned on by Lance. Inside, he was seething. Get away from that fag, he told himself. But he could not seem to really control his body and found himself walking over to where Lance was eating lunch. He felt his heart start to race, as he got closer to this really hot guy.

“Hi, Lance. Do you mind if I sit down and have eat lunch at your table?” Chad said in a chirpy voice. Lance looked up and about had a heart attack. This was one of the big jocks in the school. What did he want with Lance? Why was he even talking to him (normally, the jocks only talked to him to call him a fag or a queer)? “Sure, help yourself”, Lance said cautiously.

Chad sat down opposite Lance and was so happy that he was able to sit with him. For his part, Lance wondered what was up with Chad. He was dressed so different—almost in an outfit that screamed gay boy. Chad started talking to Lance in such a nice way that it made Lance relax a bit. Chad told Lance how he was going through a bunch of major changes. “You know, Lance, I used to be such a dumb jock but now I really have become much more sensitive and tuned to the environment around me. I used to only think about how I could get laid and get into some girl’s pants. I’ve really decided that that is not for me. There are so many other interesting things to do or people to get to know—like you.” Lance was really taken back at all of this. For his part, Chad was screaming inside to stop this god awful talk with this fag but he could not stop himself from continuing to flirt with Lance.

“I would really love to get to know you better. You really are a very interesting and handsome guy. It’s amazing that we have never been friends. I’d really love to get to be good, close friends if you know what I mean.” Lance was smiling on the inside. This big jock was hitting on him! He could not believe that this lady-killer was now acting like some smitten little fag trying to pick him up. He even felt Chad’s shoes rubbing up against Lance’s. Chad kept looking deep into Lance’s eyes. Yep, this guy really is hitting on me!

It did not go unnoticed in the lunchroom. Why was the school’s number one jock dressed like a queer and now sitting down engaged in a very friendly discussion with the gay guy Lance? They seemed very friendly. Chad even kept reaching our and touching Lance on the elbow or on his hands. They looked like a couple of fags preparing for a hot date!

Which was precisely what Chad had in mind. He really wanted to figure out how to make Lance, this really hot guy, want to take Chad as his lover. Chad thought that Lance was the most handsome and hot guy that he had ever seen and he was determined to make him love him. Just being around Lance created so much pleasure in Chad. He was so disappointed when lunch was over and they would have to go their separate ways. He asked Lance if they could have lunch again tomorrow. When Lance agreed, Chad was so happy that he leaned across the table and gave Lance a little kiss on his cheek. The entire lunch room saw it and could not believe it.

Chad was in seventh heaven. He actually kissed Lance on the cheek. He loved the feeling of seducing this really hot guy. But he ran into all kinds of trouble after lunch. His friends kept calling him a fag and a fairy. They wondered what was wrong with him. Chad on the inside felt like he was going to explode—why couldn’t I tell them I’m not a queer? Outside, Chad just smiled and took the abuse. He didn’t care what his old friends thought about him. He only cared about Lance and getting to know him.

It continued over the next couple of days. On Tuesday, Chad wore a t-shirt that said ‘Mad About Boys’ on it and another pair of light low rider jeans. He had lunch again with Lance. Lance could not believe that this former jock was really hitting on him. Chad sat right next to him in the lunchroom and kept whispChloeg in Lance’s ear. He felt Chad’s hand on his knee. Lance also felt different. Whereas in the past he was a very docile person, he started to feel very dominant. Whereas before he was considered a weakling, for some reason his body was really toning up and getting muscular. His dick had even grown and looked to be nearly nine inches long when hard! He had no idea that Bob was making these changes happen. Lance began to think about Chad as becoming his little bitch toy. He thought Chad might be fun to be a fuck boy for him and a cum receptacle for Lance. He could not believe how overtly gay Chad had become.

“Do you want to be my little bitch?” Lance asked Chad. Chad was overjoyed. This was exactly what he wanted and to be the bitch of the hottest guy in the school was so exciting. “Oh, yes. I’d love to be your boy toy.” Lance smiled. This could be fun.

“If this is what you want, I want you to shave your body below your neck tonight. The only hair I want to see on you is a little tuft of hair above your pathetic dick—you know, like a porn star. And I want you to wear something really sexy and really gay tomorrow to show me you really want me to take you. Now, come over here and give me a kiss.”

Chad was shaking when he leaned over and gave his love a wet kiss on his lips. He felt Lance force his mouth open and felt his tongue explore his mouth. Chad could not believe it—he was being French kissed by this handsome stud. He loved the feeling of Lance’s lips and responded accordingly. Chad put his arms around Lance’s neck and hugged him as they kissed. The entire lunchroom looked at the two fags making out. Most were almost sickened by this display of gay passion.

Finally, Lance broke off the kiss and told Chad that he would see him tomorrow and they would do something special. As Chad walked away, he felt Lance squeeze his ass and it felt so great. As Chad was leaving the room, a couple of his teammates cornered him. “What the fuck is up with you? When did you become such a queer? I thought you were out to fuck Christy and now you just seem to want to act like a fairy with that fag Lance. You had better straighten your act up or else!”

Chad almost cried. “You guys don’t understand. I love Lance. I really want to be with him. I’ve always been this way and I guess I just hid it from everyone. Please leave us alone.” The guys walked away shaking their heads. They told the sissy that he had better not try anything in the basketball locker room or they would make sure he got kicked off the team.

Chad managed to make it through the rest of the school day. He got to basketball practice early so that he could get dressed before the rest of the team arrived. He was shooting foul shots (or at least trying to) when the rest of the team arrived on the court. “Look at the sissy fag. He even shoots like a girl!” It was true. Try as he might, Chad was shooting the ball just like a girl would. It was like he had not strength as most of the time he had trouble even getting the ball to the net. The team began to scrimmage and Chad was awful. He ran like a girl and shot like a girl. The rest of the team kept calling him a fag and a sissy. Inside, the old Chad kept trying to come out but the new queer Chad was all that people saw.

At the end of the horrible practice, Chad and the rest of the team were sent to the showers. “Don’t try anything funny, you little fag,” said Mike. When they were all in the shower room, Chad couldn’t help but look at the guy’s tight butts and their big cocks. He really loved how the guys looked when they were soaping up their bodies and especially when they washed their dicks and balls. His little cock started to get hard. “Hey, I think the little fag likes us. Have you ever seen a more pathetic little dick on a guy.” The team all laughed at Chad and told him he had better be thinking about quitting basketball and taking up knitting or maybe even cheerleading. “A fag like you would probably love to dress up in the cheerleaders skirt and top and wear a bra and panties, wouldn’t you fag?”

Chad was crushed. He just kept on sobbing and got dressed as fast as he could. His former friends were all abandoning him. Thank goodness he had Lance. He could not wait to spend more and more time with Lance than his old friends. Lance would love him and Chad would love him back and that was better than basketball anyway.

Chad got out of bed the next morning. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked really hot with his newly shaved body. His legs and chest was baby smooth. He had shaved his cock and balls perfectly smooth. He just left a little ‘porn star’ tuft of hair above his little dick. His ass looked really cute—it just kept on getting rounder and hotter looking. He got dressed—wearing a pair of tight bikini briefs, a baby blue tank top, a pair of khaki slacks that were so tight and a pair of shoes with a medium heel. He wanted to look hot for Lance so he had picked out a shirt that was short and exposed his midriff. He spent lots of time getting his longer hair just right and ended up pulling it back in a ponytail.

The day went by like a flash. Chad paid little attention in any of his classes since he could not wait for lunch so he could see Lance. And then after school—well, who knew what might happen after school! At lunch, Chad snuggled up to Lance at the lunch table. Lance seemed even taller and more hunky to Chad. He was really so hot today. Lance loved his little swishing ex-jock who was trying so hard to seduce him. Lance had discovered he was gay when he was in junior high school. Being a skinny and unattractive guy, he had never really had many relationships and he was always the submissive one when he did get with a guy. Now, it was like a dream come true for him. He had always fantasized about getting it on with one of the really hunky jocks at the school. For whatever reason, Chad was now playing into his fantasy. Lance was now going to be the dominant one finally; in fact, he was feeling so dominant now and could not wait to break this new boy toy down and make him his personal fuck slave. He knew that he could turn Chad into anything that he wanted him to be.

Chad just hung on every word that Lance said and held on to his arm as they ate lunch together. Outwardly, Chad would do anything to win Lance’s love. Inside, his brain was sickened by the way he was swishing around and acting. He couldn’t believe he would wear a blue tank top that said Boy Toy on it. He could not stop himself from throwing away his real maleness and acting like a swishing fag trying to get fucked by this Lance guy. Try as he might to break the spell that seemed to be on him, he couldn’t stop himself from holding hands with Lance, from thinking about how good it would be to sleep with Lance and from kissing Lance. He was sickened by all of this but he could not stop himself. He really could not stop himself from whispChloeg in Lance’s ear, “Why don’t you come over to my house after school today? We can go up to my room and I will make it very worth your while. If you want, you can even spend the night. My parents know that I am gay and don’t really mind if I would bring a guy over for the night.”

Lance was thrilled. He was going to get a chance to fuck this jock over and over. But he wanted to play with Chad’s mind again. “I don’t know. I may have something else to do that is better.” Chad was crushed. He began to tear up and sob as he sniffled and begged his desired lover, “Please Lance. I love you and I will do anything for you. I really need you to come over to my house and let me make you feel good. You can do anything to me. You can fuck me in my mouth or in my ass. I’ll suck you off so well. You will love being in my mouth as my tongue licks your beautiful cock all over. I will be your little boy toy and fuck slut. I’ll make sure that you feel so good. You can do anything to me—tie me up or spank me or beat me. I only want you to be happy and will do anything to please you. Please, please please come over!”

Lance loved seeing this former jock so humiliated that he was in tears begging Lance to come over and fuck the shit out of him. Lance lifted poor Chad’s face up and dried off his tears. He told him he would come over after dinner and play with Chad. He gave Chad a gentle kiss on the lips.

Chad was so happy. He was going to be very, very good for Lance in bed. The rest of the day seemed to blur by. He didn’t even notice all the verbal abuse he got from almost everyone in the school. Chad could not wait to get home and get his room ready for Lance. He cleaned everything up and even put satin sheets on the bed. At dinner, he told his parents that Lance was coming over and they were so thrilled for their gay son to have a special friend come over to spend the night with Chad.

Chad was so fidgety waiting for Lance to come over. Finally, at 7 pm, the doorbell rang and when Chad opened the door, it was Lance. Chad rushed into his arms and gave him a big wet kiss. He took Lance by the hand and brought him into the house. Chad introduced Lance to his parents who told the boys to have a good time. He then led his new lover up the stairs and into his bedroom. Chad was so nervous that Lance would not like it but Lance seemed to think it was a pretty neat room. Lance sat on the bed and told Chad to do a slow striptease for him. Chad was only too happy to comply. He slowly took off his blue tank top to reveal his tight stomach. Chad reached down and unbuttoned his khakis and slowly pulled them down his legs. He was now clad only in a tight pair of briefs. He turned around and wiggled his newly rounded and sexy ass at Lance. He very slowly hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and began to pull them off. He continued to wiggle his ass at his lover while his pulled his underwear off. Chad was now completely naked. He turned around, embarrassed by the size of his little dick.

Lance loved the look of this fuck boy. He was totally shaved below his neck except for a cute little tuft of pubic hair above his little cock. He cock looked like a little boy’s dick. Lance loved the look of Chad’s bubble butt. He motioned him over and told him to kneel at Lance’s feet. Chad immediately fell to his knees in front of Lance. He would do anything for his lover. Lance looked down at his boy toy and felt the power to control him growing. He told Chad to take Lance’s shoes and socks off and clean his feet with his tongue. Chad feverishly removed Lance’s shoes and socks and immediately started to lick his feet with his tongue. Oh, how he loved making Lance happy and he loved licking his feet and cleaning them. Inside his mind, Chad could not believe that he was now naked and on his knees giving this other fag a tongue bath for his feet. He was so embarrassed by all of this.

Lance loved the feeling of having such control over Chad. He looked down at the boy licking so energetically at Lance’s feet. He told Chad to stop and told him to lie over Lance’s lap. “You need to have your ass reddened a bit by getting a spanking. Chad got up and immediately lay over Lance’s lap. He felt the sting of Lance’s hand as he began to get spanked. Got, this was such a turn on. His tiny cock began to get hard. He could feel Lance’s huge cock through his jeans. Lance continued to spank Chad’s bare ass. He wanted to hear him cry. Chad tried hard not to sob but finally he couldn’t hold out any longer. He began to sob like a girl. Lance loved hearing his new sissy crying and stopped the spanking. “You needed to be punished and now you can get your reward.”

Chad knew that the spanking was for his own good. He stopped his sniffling and was so happy when Lance told him to undress him. Chad unbuttoned Lance’s shirt and took it off. He rubbed his hands all over Lance’s hot chest. He then undid his jeans and unzipped him. He feverishly pulled down Lance’s pants and removed them. His lover stood in front of him clad only in a pair of tight briefs. Chad caressed Lance’s tight bottom through his briefs. Lance’s big cock was straining at the front of his briefs and Chad could not wait to see it. He pulled Lance’s underwear off and both the boys were now naked.

Lance pulled Chad’s body up against him and began to kiss him. Chad felt Lance’s tongue enter his mouth and explore it as his own tongue gently met it. Chad felt Lance’s huge erect cock up against his own inadequate dick. It felt so good to feel his cock pressing against Chad’s groin and stomach. Lance was squeezing Chad’s ass and pulling him up against him. Chad loved the feeling of Lance’s body against him and the delight of Lance deeply kissing him. Chad began to caress Lance’s body and pull him tight against him.

Lance broke off the kiss and told Chad to give him a tongue bath. Chad started with Lance’s face. He licked it all over, paying particular attention to his earlobes and his luscious lips. He then started to give his chest a tongue bath. He licked and sucked at Lance’s nipples and loved the taste of them. He sank to his knees and licked each one of his legs and thighs. He kept getting closer and closer to Lance’s cock but wanted to tease him a bit before he took that prize. Lance turned around and Chad began to lick at this ass. He loved licking Lance’s beautiful ass and spent lots of time on his butt crack—licking as deep as he could. He then began to lick and suck at Lance’s beautiful asshole. He began to rim it with his tongue and then began to playfully push his tongue in and out of the sexy hole. Each time, he was able to thrust his tongue deeper and deeper in Lance’s shit hole. He loved the taste of his lover and could not get enough. He knew that Lance loved this action.

Lance then turned around and faced Chad. Chad began to slowly lick Lance’s big balls. He loved the feeling of the balls on his tongue as he played over the surface of the wrinkled balls. He then began to lick Lance’s shaft. He went up and down slowly and savored the feeling and the taste. He then started to lick at the massive head of the big cock. He could not wait to get this cock in his mouth.

Lance looked down at Chad. The big tough jock was nothing but a simpChloeg cock licker now. He loved the look of Chad’s tongue licking Lance’s cock. He knew that this jock was now his sissy lover. He told Chad to stop licking and start sucking. Chad was overjoyed. He began to take Lance’s nine-inch cock into his mouth. He loved the taste of it in his hot mouth as he sucked on it and rubbed his tongue all over it. He took more and more of the delicious cock in his mouth until he had all of it. He continued to deep throat Lance’s cock. It was so good. He loved the feeling of a cock in his mouth and just knew he was meant to be a cocksucker for the rest of his life. He could not image anything more exciting than to have another man like Lance as his lover.

Lance looked down as Chad energetically sucked on his dick. This boy toy was going to be good. He was a great cocksucker. Lance wanted to sample the rest of Chad. He told him to stop and bend over the bed. Chad looked so hot with his sexy bubble butt in the air. Lance grabbed some lube and put it on his big cock. He then lubed up Chad’s ass with his fingers. Chad loved the feeling of being finger fucked by Lance! He then felt the head of Lance’s big cock at the entrance to his puckered hole. With a push, it entered Chad’s ass and he began to moan with pleasure. Lance kept pushing his cock inside Chad until Chad could feel Lance’s big balls slapping against his ass.

Lance began to vigorously fuck Chad, ramming his cock in and out of the formerly haughty jock’s ass. He knew that Chad was enjoying it as he began to meet each thrust of Lance’s cock with his ass. Chad loved the feeling of getting fucked by Lance. This was what he was made for—to be a cum receptacle for his lover. He could not wait to feel Lance’s hot cum fill his ass. Finally, Lance began to shoot his hot cum in Chad. It felt like a quart of cum filled up Chad and it was awesome. Chad was moaning and almost sobbing as Lance’s hot cream filled up his asshole. He felt empty when Lance began to pull his cock out of Chad.

He told Chad to lick him clean. Chad was overjoyed and immediately took the cock in his mouth and began to lick the delicious juices off. He loved the taste of cock, cum and Chad’s own ass on the cock. He worked the cock in his mouth and made sure that Lance was very clean. He could feel the cum oozing out of his ass. He reached behind and scooped up some of the cum leaking out of his ass and put it in his mouth. He loved the taste of Lance’s juice. When he was done, Lance pulled him to his feet and once again deeply kissed him. Chad loved Lance and wanted him to never leave him. He would do anything to be Lance’s lover.

They made love over and over again that night. Master Bob had given Lance the ability to recover quickly. Chad took Lance’s cock up his ass again and sucked him off twice more. Finally, he fell asleep in Lance’s arms—content to be sleeping in his lover’s embrace. When he awoke the next morning, Chad gently slid down Lance’s body and took his soft cock in his mouth. He could not get enough of Lance’s cock! Lance began to stir and his cock began to harden in Chad’s mouth. Chad gave Lance an awesome blowjob and swallowed every bit of his tasty cum. He then took Lance by the hand and led him to the shower. The two lovers showered together and Chad washed every inch of his love’s body. He paid particular attention to soaping up and fondling Lance’s cock and ass.

The two boys dressed and headed off the school. They arrived hand in hand. As they departed to head for their respective classes, Lance leaned over to Chad and gave him a very deep kiss. The two gay lovers embraced in front of everyone and kissed. Lance was fondling Chad’s ass and Chad was rubbing Lance’s back. The two ended their kiss and went to class. The school could not believe that Chad was this much of a sissy fag to do all this right out in the open. But they soon got used to the sight of the two fags walking hand in hand or kissing or rubbing each other’s body.

Lance spent the next several nights at Chad’s house. He became the dominant one in the relationship. Chad was like a girl—waiting for his lover to make the first move and concentrating on only pleasing his man. He was truly a gay fag. He didn’t even notice girls anymore but only guys and only Lance in a sexual way.

When Lance awoke on Saturday morning to his usual morning blowjob from Chad, he was in bliss. When he came as usual in Chad’s mouth, he then reached down and kissed him. He quickly got dressed and left to run some errands. He was going to meet Chad for dinner that night.

Chad was getting out of the shower when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. It was Christy. “You do remember your appointments today, don’t you? And your first one is with the Arlington basketball team. I thought that they might like to get a blowjob from a cheerleader. You are now an honorary member of the cheerleading team and here is your uniform to wear today.” Christy pulled out a red, white and blue cheerleader, pleated skirt red athletic bra and cheer panties. “You will be such a turn on for the other team to see the star guard and captain dressed in a cheerleader skirt on her knees giving them each a blowjob. Time to get dressed and moving so you are not late.”

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 54

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The Ancient One explains some truths.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

She didn’t look how you remembered her.

Instead of flowing robes and a bald head, she was wearing a khaki uniform that said Magical Pest Removal on the lapel, and what looked like a cheap, bob-cut blond wig on her head.

Despite the bad disguise, you would recognize the Ancient One anywhere.

“Your mother told me I could find you out here,” the sorcerer said, her accent the same posh one you remember, making her mundane outfit seem even more bizarre. “She also said she was unhappy that you tried to burn the termites in your closet.”

Your closet? Termites?

A burnt circle…

You knew exactly what this was.

“You mean the demon portal I opened?”

The Ancient One opened her mouth, stared at you a moment, and then closed it. You wondered if anyone had left the ancient sorcerer speechless before.

“Yeah, I know what I did,” you continued on in a rush. “I mean, I don’t remember it, but I know I opened a portal and you and the other sorcerers are here to investigate it, and—“

She raised a hand, and you fell immediately silent.

“Have we met before?”

The question hit you like déjà vu, and why wouldn’t it, when it was so similar to the conversation on the Sanctum rooftop?

“Yes,” you began slowly. It was still bizarre to hear your voice as a child. You’d forgotten what it sounded like. Or what it was like to be without your horns and tail. Every time you tried to move your non-existent tail, you experienced a slight feeling of unsteadiness. “Or… I’ve met you before. This is the first time you’ve met me. I think.”

“Ah,” she said, as if that had made any sort of sense. “I see.”

“Really?”

Her lips spread into a reserved but warm smile.

“No. But in these types of situations, it tends to be wiser to pretend you know more than you truly do.”

She gestured to the swing set.

“May we sit?”

“Uh, sure.”

Even without her robes, her gestures were as measured and graceful as you remembered. She sat on the swing Bucky had used in what seemed like a lifetime ago, but truly hadn’t happened yet. It hurt your head to think about as you sat on your own swing. Even that felt real beneath you. Was this truly a memory?

“Thank you.” She smoothed out the wrinkles on her cargo pants. “These bones aren’t as young as they used to be. And your bones are younger than you expected.”

You gaped up at her. For someone who said she didn’t know very much, she knew an awful lot.

“Then, you know I don’t belong here? That I’m in the wrong place? Am I trapped? Is this a memory or-or am I stuck in another time-loop?”

Your lip trembled as your eyes burned. You’d forgotten how quick you were to cry as a kid. This was more embarrassing than being trapped in a time-loop, that was for sure.

If she was surprised at the mention of time-loops, the Ancient One didn’t show it. Instead, her eyes were warm but pitying.

“You are so young, yet you’ve been through much. And you will endure more before the end, I fear. That is the path of all those who wield the name.”

“Name?” You rubbed your forehead, the headache worsening there. “What name?”

“The Ancient One.”

You dropped your hand and looked up at her. Stared, really. Why was she making even less sense than the first time around?

“It is a title that only one sorcerer can hold. They reign above the Sorcerer Supreme, and it is they who bear the greatest burden of our order.” She lowered her gaze, meeting you unflinchingly. “I sense that you will hold that title when I am gone.”

“I… what?” You shook your head. “No, I don’t—no. That’s not why I’m here. I—“

“Then why are you here?” Her expression hadn’t changed at all, and it was terrifyingly piercing. “What were you doing just before you subverted the laws of time to arrive here, in your past?”

Your mouth hung open. How could you possibly explain the ritual, the experimental demon bond, Bucky—

Bucky.

“You-you have to help someone,” you blurted out, nearly falling from your swing in your panic. “A demon. Or, he was a man, but HYDRA changed him, turned him into—You have to help Bucky Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes.”

The name on your tongue sent a curl of pain through your ribcage.  Was Bucky all right? Was he still where you left him, writhing on that table?

How had everything gone so wrong?

You looked down at your shoes. Faded pink things that were long worn by dirt and wear. Little white unicorns prancing along the sides. You’d forgotten how much you loved them, but not even they could distract you as despair coiled in your chest.

“He came through the portal I created.” You closed your eyes, the words burdened far more than they should coming from a ten year old. “If it’s only the day after, he should be in Boston still. You’ll catch him, lure him into a trap, and—Please, please help him.”

“I will help him, because it has already happened.” Her expression was fond, if a little exasperated. “And did no one tell you that no one should know too much about their own future?”

You looked away, your cheeks heating easily, as they always did when you were a kid.

“Yeah. You did, actually.”

“Well, I do give very good advice.”

The humor in her words wasn’t enough to remove the pit from your stomach.

“About... about what I was doing before. Before I arrived here. I was…” You curled your small fists as you stared resolutely at the leaf-strewn ground. “I… I don’t know how to explain it without telling you everything, but you did tell me something. The last time we spoke, or, I guess for you we haven’t spoken yet.”

You shook your head. Time stuff was so confusing.

“Yes?”

“You said… You told me that I would have to make a choice.” You closed your eyes. “That when the obvious choice is wrong, I would have to make a different one. And to trust myself, because I would make the right choice, even when others didn’t believe me. That was… the gist of it anyway.”

“I see,” she said in that cryptic way of hers. “And did you? Make the right choice?”

“I don’t know.”

You opened your eyes again, hoping against hope you would be back at the Sanctum, like this was all a bad dream. Instead, you were still in your backyard, somehow talking to the most powerful sorcerer alive. Or, who had been alive in 1995, anyway.

“All I know is, I want to get back home. To my time, so I can make sure…”

“You care for him, don’t you?”

Her eyes were warm again when you met them. There was no judgement there, no surprise, just a quiet kind of understanding you couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Yes,” you said, your voice small. “I do. I need to get back to him.”

“There are many reasons you need to return to your present consciousness,” she said, as if that somehow made sense. “One of which is that you will soon need to take up the mantle you were meant to bear.”

She rose to her feet and you quickly followed suit,

“Listen. I don’t know why you think I’m the one who—“

“It is not what I think. You simply are. Your aptitude toward creating cross-dimensional rifts is a good indicator that you are no simple child. Nor will you become a mere sorcerer. You haven’t found your relic yet, have you?”

As was so often the case, the Ancient One’s line of thinking threw you into confused stuttering. How had she known? That no matter how many relics Wong showed you, none of them were activated by your presence?

“I… I don’t… No, I haven’t.”

She slightly bent down, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.

“When you return, go to my office. You’ll find what you need.”

You’d barely digested the words when she pulled back, an amused glint in her eye that quickly faded.

“Before I help encourage you to return to your time, I fear there is something I must explain.”

The gravity in her words were heavy, and you shifted uncomfortably. You almost preferred a cryptic message the last time she sent you on your way, but you had a feeling you wouldn’t be spared now.

“The mantle of the Ancient One is a heavy burden to bear. If I tell the others of my order what I have discovered, if I tell them what you are… your childhood will be forfeit. All you will know is this life, and it will be many years before you’re even allowed outside the walls of our sanctums.”

Her expression lightened, but the aged lines of her face were still deep with the weight of her words.

“I sense you have not lived a life like that, which can only mean I did not tell them of your budding powers. But leaving you here, as you are, unguarded and unprotected would be negligent.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but she pressed on before you could.

“If your powers continue to manifest, it will be only a matter of time until you attract those who would wish to use your power for their own. So until such a time as you can sufficiently fend for yourself, your power will be locked away. And a guardian will look after you.”

A guardian? Did she mean…

The Ancient One finally smiled.

“I believe you know him already, though I have yet to meet him. I look forward to it, very soon.”

The Ancient One had known about Bucky looking after you all along. Surely she would someday know about the bond as well. And yet… she had still trusted him, anyway.

Tears blurred your vision again as you gave a shaky smile. Knowing that Bucky would be safe, that he would have someone to help him heal and learn how to be a person again, was more of a relief than you could say. You owed her more than you’d ever realized. And if the Ancient One insisted this was the path you were meant to take, then you could let go of your fears and trust her too.

She clasped her hands together, startling you.

“Now, it’s time to send you home. And to lock away those powers until you’re ready to use them.”

You expected her to do what she did last time, place her thumb on your forehead and jolt you back to the present, but instead she drew concentric, fiery circles in the air between you.

Panic crawled up your throat.

“Wait!” you cried. “Will we meet again?”

Her small smile, much like herself, held an edge of delight and mysterious.

“Perhaps. Time will tell, won’t it?”

The concentric circles folded together, creating a sort of echoing tunnel that went deeper and deeper, until you were falling through it, panicked and alone and in the dark.

You hit the ground and jolted upright, gasping in panicked breathes as your hands clung to something soft.

Plush covers. On a bed. You were back in your room in the sanctum, still wearing the silver ornate robes. You shoved up the right sleeve and stared at the thick bandage wrapped around your shoulder.

So, it had been real. You were back, and the ritual…

Oh, God. Bucky.

Next Chapter

[nottodayjjk]

the realm ~ part i

summary: you wake up in a dark place, not knowing where you are and how you got there. and what keeps you wondering the most: who does the voice belong to that you’re hearing in your head?

pairing: jungkook x female reader.

word count: 1,121.

genre: mystery, fantasy, angst, so much angst.

warnings: a little anxiety, darkness.

future warnings: mentions of death, death, smut, anxiety, panic attacks.

banner credits: created with canva. image of jungkook from: https://www.deviantart.com/beapanda/gallery. (also got a little help from @nightowls388​, love you!)

notes from the author: wow, this is my first thing ever. never thought i’d  post anything i’ve written. thanks to everyone who has inspired and encouraged me to do this! this is also heavily inspired by the anime death parade and the series supernatural and will be split up in chapters (many, many to come). big thank you to my beta reader for beta reading it for me and giving me so many helpful tips!

> part ii

“Wake up.“

A soft voice entered the terrible, terrible nightmare you were trapped in, slowly waking you up from a deep, uneasy slumber. Your eyes fluttered open, eyelids feeling heavy, while your brain couldn’t hold the memory of the gruesome dream you were just having. The only thing left was an anxious feeling that made your stomach turn and your heart ache in pain.

A quiet sob escaped into the emptiness of the space around you, the emotions that flooded your mind and body just being too much for you to handle.

You were laying on the cold ground, a thick darkness surrounding you. A lone lamp in the distance was all that gave light in this lonely place. Where am I? was the first question that came to your uneased mind, not remembering a thing that had happened. You still knew who you were but not how you got here. What if you were still in a dream?

You slowly tried to sit up, supporting yourself on your arms that for some reason felt a little weak. Feeling your body for any injuries, which couldn’t be found, you noticed you were wearing all white, a long flowy dress covering your body. Even though you didn’t remember anything, you were pretty sure that this wasn’t yours.

An eerie feeling crept up your back, giving you goosebumps. The quietness didn’t help at all. Faintly remembering the gentle voice calling, you weren’t quite sure if it had been part of the dream or not. Your eyes searched the surroundings for any orientation, but not a thing nor person was to be seen, and the dim, white light of the lamp in the distance only illuminated the darkness. A dull headache had you closing your eyes for a second and massaging your scalp in circles trying to sooth it.

“I won’t do you harm.”

Suddenly, the soft voice rang again through your mind. It was real, nothing out of a dream. Eyes shooting open, you tried to make out the source, turning around in a frenzy.

Your eyes caught sight of a dark frame standing next to the lonely lamp. A hood was covering their face which made the whole situation even more creepy. You couldn’t move, too afraid of the unknown being.

“You don’t have to fear me.”

They were standing so far away from you, but the voice still echoed through your head like they were standing next to you. Even though they tried to comfort you, your heart rate sped up, nonetheless.

The situation was so surreal that it had you pinching the skin on your right arm, leaving little red marks where your fingers had tormented it in an attempt to wake you up from this bizarre dream. But unfortunately, nothing happened. ‘No, this can’t be real,’ you thought to yourself, not believing in anything that your eyes saw right now.

“I can explain everything to you, but first you must come over to me. We can only go there together.”

There? Where there? What were they talking about?

“I- I don’t understand,” you called out, trying to bridge the distance that was still between you. Your voice was unsteady, quavering as you spoke to the being. The eerie feeling wasn’t leaving you. But you knew that you didn’t really have a choice, that there was only one way to find out what was going on. And that was accompanying the hooded frame. Even though it was the scariest thing you had done in your life, ever.

“It is the right choice, dear. You will understand soon.”

It was just now coming to you that they could also apparently make out what was going on in your head. It didn’t help at all with the anxiousness you were feeling in your chest, but you had already made your choice.

You looked up again, noticing that the being was stretching out an inviting hand towards you, making even more clear what you had to do. Trying to push back your overwhelming fear, you slowly got up, propping yourself up on your arms. Your legs felt wobbly, like they hadn’t been used for a bit. But you got steadier with every step you took towards the lamp and hence to the being.

Being in reach of their hand, they gave you a quick, reassuring nod, while the hood was not moving an inch. You were very curious to see the face under it. But would it even be a face? Hopefully, you would find out soon. You hesitated for a second, looking suspiciously at the hand that was still stretched out towards you.

“I can only bring you there if you take my hand.”

You bit down on your lip in thought. It couldn’t be that bad. The thought of staying at this place alone was much more appalling to you than to go with them. And what could actually go wrong? If it were still a dream – you didn’t really believe that to be the case anymore though – nothing would happen to you. You would just wake up at some point. And, to admit it, you were also kind of curious to see what that so-called “there”-place would turn out to be.

“You can trust me.”

Receiving the encouragement, you finally put your hand into theirs. You were surprised to feel that it was in fact quite warm. Somehow you had expected it to be cold, but it felt comforting. You felt your heart rate going down in an instant, a serene calmness flooding your entire body, replacing the fear. What were they doing to you?

“We can’t go over there if you’re afraid of it. It would disrupt the journey. Something could go wrong,” they explained to you patiently. You nodded understandingly. “You taking my hand was the first step to trust me. So, I could give you the calmness that your body is now ready for.”

Even though you couldn’t see their eyes, you felt their gaze lingering on you, checking if you were alright.

“Are you ready?”

This last question felt like a faint whisper that was passing by your ear like a breath of the wind. You could already see the scenery changing around you, the lamp slowly beginning to fade. You were still a little anxious, but now full of trust. Nodding your head, you whispered back. “Yes, I am.”

The hooded being nodded, gesturing for you to stay close to them. They led you past the lamp, into the darkness. You couldn’t see anything major different at first. And then, suddenly, the scenery was changing in front of you, feeling like you’ve stepped over a barrier that shielded this place from the one behind the lamp.

[melodiesofblueroses]

Hello <3 may I request a fic with Yoosung x MC?

MC is the complete opposite of him, not realising she actually has romantic feelings for him

Hey hey anon! This was so so so cute to write, and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did! Thank you sm for the request and hope you enjoy 💕

»»————————-　♡　————————-««

-𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: yoosung kim x f!reader

-𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff

-𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: ~1.9k

»»————————-　♡　————————-««

“um, when do you get off of work today?” it was a pretty simple question, really, but y/n couldn’t help but furrow her brows at how antsy her best friend seemed to be when he asked it. yoosung was averting his gaze from hers and fidgeting with his hands. she wasn’t quite sure why he was so nervous or what prompted him to feel that way in the first place, but she decided to not push it. 

“seven as usual, why?” she gave him a bit of a puzzled look as she ate her lunch, having to hide the look of disgust she felt when she put the pasta in her mouth. the cafeteria food was always so bland, but this one simply took the cake. 

“oh, uh, that’s cool.” ok, now things were getting a bit too weird. i mean, yoosung was always a bit odd when it came to talking with others, so usually, y/n didn’t really think much of it. but this was her, yoosung’s best friend since pretty much childhood. there wasn’t a reason for him to act so on edge whenever she was around. perhaps he was hiding something of huge importance, and as much as she wanted to know, y/n decided that it was better to not question it. if yoosung wanted her to know something, then he’d simply tell her. “it’s just that i got tickets to see ‘always’ in theatres, and i wanted to know if you wanted to come.”  

though the last part was mumbled out, she still very much heard yoosung, who was now fully avoiding her gaze and trying to focus on the far left window. y/n really wasn’t so sure as to why yoosung was so nervous about asking her out to the movies considering that the two of them were the closest of friends. did he think that she’d say no? well, surely he must’ve been out of his mind by then. perhaps the latest chemistry quiz fried his brain. 

“isn’t that a romance movie?”

“y-yeah, but you don’t have to go! it’s fine-”

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t go.” the way his entire face flushed pink straight away was a bit cute in her eyes, and she tried her hardest to contain her smile, though to no avail. geez, why was yoosung so jumpy? did the cafeteria food do something to him? y/n couldn’t lay her finger on it, but she decided it’d be better to brush it off. “it’ll be fun to go to the movies. gotta get the last bit of freedom before finals, right?” 

“right. so, i’ll pick you up at nine, ok?”

“sounds good. by the way, how was the latest lolol event?”

y/n knew that at the mention of his absolute favorite game that yoosung would return to normal, and his fast transition from nervousness to excitement made her giggle a bit. he always had a bit of sparkle in his eyes whenever he went on and on about lolol and how much fun it was. he even tried to get her into it, though to no avail. 

her and yoosung were pretty much complete and total opposites in nearly every aspect one could imagine. while he preferred video games, she opted for board games instead. yoosung loved the indoors whereas y/n would always be out and about, enjoying the wonders of nature and what it had to offer. he was more of a dog person (or at least she thought so) whereas she liked cats a bit more. ever since the two first met, y/n could recall that they’ve been the exact opposite from one another.

but perhaps the most striking difference of all was in how they felt about one another, or at least, how they thought they did. yoosung was pretty in tact with his feelings; that is, he knew a crush when he saw one, and he had fallen hard for his childhood friend. y/n, on the other hand, was a lot more oblivious to her own feelings. she did have a crush on him, a pretty large one at that, but she simply had no idea. blissful ignorance if you will. y/n simply thought of him as a friend, even if the words ‘yoosung’ and ‘friend’ in the same sentence made her heart ache and a gnawing pit form in her stomach. she still thought nothing of it. honestly, yoosung was probably more aware of her feelings for him rather than she was, which was pretty sad to say the least. 

y/n didn’t really know how to describe it whenever her heart did flips whenever yoosung pushed his hair back, or how she felt the heat rise to her face when yoosung was concentrating pretty hard on either his game or schoolwork. of course, to anyone else, these feelings were an indication of a crush, feelings of love really. but to y/n, she thought that they were nothing but weird things her body did whenever she was around yoosung. it was quite the coincidence, but she didn’t really think much of it. 

and soon, the time for the movie had come, and the two of them had gotten back row seats, which yoosung seemed to really want as he opposed all her suggestions for moving up to the front. “if we sit all the way in the front, we’ll get a headache from the bright screen you know. it’s always happened to me whenever i play lolol too late,”  he reasoned, though she wasn’t fully convinced. since yoosung was so adamant on sitting in the front, however, y/n allowed it. 

yoosung, once more, was acting a bit bizarre. for one, when he complimented her on her outfit, yoosung couldn’t look her in the eye or help the blush that spread across his face. it was weird how he acted so strangely around her and even weirder how he looked like he had just seen the light when she complimented him back. secondly, he had offered to buy her any snacks that she wanted, though y/n brushed that off as nothing more than him being hospitable. still weird, sure, given that the two of them were simply on a ‘platonic’ date. yoosung was strange to say the least, well, stranger than before. 

yet again, however, y/n decided to simply brush it aside and enjoy the movie. it was the first time that she’d been out with yoosung in quite a bit, so she wanted to enjoy her time. yoosung was always such a fun person to be around, and y/n felt as if she could truly be herself around him. he was always so kind, caring, and understanding, and the fact that the two of them were in such close proximity right now made her feel good. it was nice to get some alone time with her best friend. 

“oo, the movie’s starting,” she pointed out, continuing to eat from the bag of popcorn yoosung had bought for the both of them (yet again, he seemed so hesitant and quite nervous to share a bag of popcorn even if she insisted otherwise. the food was simply too pricey, and y/n didn’t want yoosung to spend any more than he had to). “i hope it’s good.”

he simply nodded along to what she was saying, still antsy over the fact that he had managed to score a date with his longtime friend and crush. now, he was excited, of course, but yoosung thought that one wrong move, and it’ll be over for good, before it even had the chance to start. he’s had dreams of dating her ever since the two were in high school, but yoosung simply didn’t have the guts to ever confess, not wanting to risk losing their friendship over his silly feelings. 

so he bottled them up and tried to forget about how much he loved her, though to no avail. as years came and went, yoosung simply felt himself falling more and more in love with her. he always found something new about her to admire, and before he knew it, yoosung was madly in love with his best friend. now that he was in college, however, yoosung decided that it was time to at least try to make a move, and this date was the perfect opportunity for that. 

when the lights in the theatre dimmed down, yoosung began to feel way more confident since the dark was now hiding everything; and so, although he did hesitate, yoosung worked up the courage to hold her hand, thankful that it was dark so that he didn’t have to see her reaction or his red face at the moment. 

y/n, on the other hand, was quite taken aback by this sudden development, though that wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy it. yoosung’s hand was so big and warm as compared to hers, but they still fit perfectly. she felt her heart speed up in the slightest, and almost as if it was a reflex, she intertwined her hands with his as well (yoosung was now extremely thankful that it was dark).

needless to say, neither of them could focus on the rest of the movie. yoosung was too caught up in the fact that he and his crush were holding hands (and they never once let go) while y/n was beginning to question why she felt the way she did. holding yoosung’s hand wasn’t really anything new as they had done so quite a bit in the past, but this time, it felt different. y/n felt all warm and tingly on the inside. it was a comforting feeling. why was her body acting all weird whenever she was with yoosung? it simply didn’t make any sense. 

but the answer soon came to her towards the end of the movie. 

it all happened so quickly, but one moment, the two of them were watching the couple on screen sharing a kiss, and the next, yoosung was asking if he could kiss her. and y/n’s mouth was working faster than her brain could comprehend, and as if on instinct, she answered yes, immediately feeling yoosung’s lips on hers. they were so warm and inviting, to say the least, and both of them could tell that the other didn’t want to pull away, not so soon anyway. 

and so, the kiss deepened. 

it honestly felt like time had stopped for everyone but them at this point, but neither of them seemed to mind as they reveled in each other’s touch. the kiss felt so good and so right, as if they were made for each other, a pair. those were the only feelings they could pinpoint as everything also seemed to be moving too fast, or at least that’s what they thought when they pulled away. outside the kiss, time was too fast, but within it, it was too slow. time was such a paradox. 

but in that moment, when the two had pulled away, y/n had finally made sense of her feelings. she finally understood why her heart started to beat crazy fast every time yoosung complimented her, why she wanted to look nothing but the best for him, why her body seemed to move on its own, and why she couldn’t help but notice the tiniest details when it came to him. 

y/n was in love with her best friend.

[just2bubbly]

Breaking the news..

Masterlist

Rumors and Affairs Chapter List

// This is an update of  What was she thinking?! 

Cinder’s Perspective: 

She decided to go through the articles. Most of them were dated from when she had escaped out of prison with Thorne. They said how Cinder had run away with her ‘lover’ criminal Thorne. She cringed on the word lover. The more recent ones were about her and Thorne at the Ball. After reading many such articles, she came across the article that was the root cause of all the rumors. It had the picture of her and Thorne standing outside the hall while the ball was going on. He had brought her outside to tell her about how he was going to propose to Cress and Cinder had become so happy to see how far her best friend had come. She had hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Being pregnant had made her super emotional; she could have a headache or laugh over the silliest thing. The media captured this specific affectionate moment between the two and right now she wanted to kill herself for her idiosyncrasies. She was just hugging Thorne why did they have to make such a fuss about this. Well after reading the entire article she came to realize that the media had misinterpreted the scene between the two. They had thought that the two were meeting outside to have a word without the Emperor catching them and it became a bit affectionate but Empress Selene restrained herself in the fear of getting caught.

Cinder recalled how she had confined Thorne that she was literally more scared of doing childbirth than leading the lunar revolution and he had assured her in a rather affectionate way, where he did hold both of their hands on her swollen stomach. The media had definitely misinterpreted and made a fuss about it. Plus Thorne was known for his flirty personality all over the world and also Luna.

All such times she hated how the press and mass media could not have any restrictions and limitations. Stars, they should not publish stuff that they did not have a clue about.

She was having a strong headache meaning that if she had tear ducts she would be crying now or maybe she was just having a headache from frustration. Either way it was not good for her or the baby. Last month they had a riot outside the palace gate about her cyborg-ness. The hatred towards Cinder had been high time since Kai and she had announced that they have been expecting an heir soon. Kai did his best to make her feel better but she was so insecure in moments like these. After all she had received this hate since she was 11. Memories don’t fade easily, especially bad ones.

She was walking in the gardens when the whole incident had happened. The riots were peaceful but Kai and Torin were all shaken up. It looked like they had been expecting this sometime sooner or later. Well saying that Cinder was not expecting this would be a lie for she had so many nightmares about her being close to a crowd and then a riot would start where she and the baby would be harmed in some way or the other.

Cinder herself had taken so much effort to remove cyborg prejudice. Even then she had to suffer through first hand cyborg hate taking in consideration that she was the Empress of the Eastern Commonwealth.

That’s when she saw it. It was Kai. He had commed her. In a normal and peaceful situation she would be happy and bubbly(I know I just made a reference) to see him but now that the situation was anything but calm and normal. She wanted to not pick his call. Not receiving his comm won’t help her though. So she gave in.

“Hey! You took a lot of time to pick up the comm, were you sleeping?”

Seeing him in front of her eyes she just wanted to hug him and let him whisper to her that everything was fine-

“Hail to Cinder! Are you there?”

“Yeah! Why?”

“Well respond so that I can understand”

“When are you coming back?”

“Oh! I see you were so lost in thinking about me that you forgot to realize that your dear husband Kai is there in front of you! Tell me Cinder, Am I wrong? Did you spend all your time thinking about me then?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Emperor. It does not suit you well.” Technically she had been thinking about him all the time but pregnancy had not made her lose her mind so far so she would not blurt out about how she was day-dreaming about her husband.

“C’mon Cinder why can’t you just accept that you missed me?  I do it all the time.”

“Okay Kai. Tell me when are you returning now?”

“I will be there in New Beijing besides you till tomorrow afternoon. I would have left tonight but Queen Camilla invited us to dinner at the royal palace. I don’t want to go-”

“What? You will be coming tomorrow?” she screamed, maybe.

“I thought you would be sad to know that I am delaying my flight because of some stupid dinner.”

“No Kai, it is not like that. Well I certainly do miss you and am happy that you will be there here tomorrow. Stars, it has been difficult without you here but I thought you had yet a week to come and stars above I have so much stuff to do and things to fix. I just don’t have the time to do it before you get back I can’t believe I am running late on my schedule Kai I want-”

“Calm down Cinder. I had asked you to do nothing if you remembered. Plus Torin told me.”

Cinder had covered her face with her hands. She peeked at him a bit scared of his reaction. Why the hell was he being good and not yelling at her if Torin had already told him?!

“What did Torin tell you?”

“Why? Is it problematic that my advisor tells me all about you?”

“That’s not the point Kai. What did he tell you?”

“Nothin’ just how you over-work yourself and do not rest well and keep zoning out between conversations. You really do get hopeless without me.”

“Oh! That’s what Torin told you. Thank goodness”

“Why? Was there something else?”

“NO! Nothing else…. for now at least- I can’t ...I don’t know” why couldn’t she lie towards Kai as easily as she did with the others. It felt like Kai could just look through her soul and realize the truth.

“What happened Cinder? Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Did something happen to you? Did Dr.Nandez say something about the pregnancy? Cinder tell me! ” He looked desperate and all the worst possible scenarios were running through his mind now. She could tell it.

“Kai, I am fine. The baby is fine. Everyone is fine. Well not everyone because Torin and I are all panicked because I did some mistake and screwed up big time….” she trailed.

“Oh! Only that much. Well I thought something happened to you and the baby.”

He sighed before continuing, “What did you do?”

“Well it’s related to the baby. In the head staff meeting I said something that made the entire Thorne-Cinder affair rumors worse.”

“Oh.” he had not expected that.

“Can you brief me about it if it is okay for you or should I ask Torin?”

“Well I kind of blurted out that the rumors about me and Thorne are true while I was zoning out and although I tried to assure them I don’t think that they are much convinced. Shit. I screwed up Kai.”

His eyes had definitely widened. Cinder could tell that without looking. He was trying his best to remain calm but she wanted him to talk. Bloody hell she wanted him to talk now. She was a mess on the inside. Thankfully there were no new rumors about her and Thorne or any news about today’s meeting on her newsfeed yet.

There was an unwanted and suffocating silence between the two of us.

“Well you did screw up big time Cinder but it's okay. Do they know that I know about these rumors?”

“I don’t know. Mostly likely not because I think usually courting outside of marriages are to kept a secret.

“Cinder please.” She should not use sarcasm in situations like these. She nodded and whispered a sorry.

“What should we do?” she asked again trying to take a hold over this bizarre situation.

“You really cannot do anything anymore. Whatever you say will not be given much importance and most likely be doubted so you would only give a single official statement in my presence when I return. For the rest, I will come up with a plan with Torin’s help.”

“Kai stop fighting my battles. You already have done enough by not kicking me out okay. I should take responsibility of my mistakes-”

”It’s okay Cinder. Everything is okay. You and I know that we are madly in love with each other. That’s all that I care about. You would no longer over work yourself. I guess you should stop holding meetings for time being as well, you know as a precaution.” he said the last part teasingly but yet I felt disheartened.

I was glaring at him but then the rumors about our child’s parentage hit me like some train. I could not tell Kai this. He would surely be disappointed. He would be heart-broken.

What should I tell him huh- Hey Kai! The media thinks that the child I am carrying is Thorne’s and not yours. Lol, but you know the truth right?

Sue me.

“There is something more Kai.”

“What?” he asked a bit concerned, a furrowed brow forming.

“They questioned about our baby’s parentage as well”

Upon hearing this he really looked so sad. His face had fallen and he avoided looking at her.

She heard some commotion from his side.

“Cinder I have to go. I am sorry we will talk later. I will figure it out with Torin’s help. Bye. Take care.” He was croaking. Cinder had a headache coming as well.

Before she could reply, he had ended the comm.

Glancing at her net-screen Cinder sighed. There was no news about today’s meeting anywhere. Torin might have done his miracles on the staff again.

__

A/N: I am thinking about a good damage control idea, so it might take a while. Needless to say, There is more!

( I also have an another Kaider fic named ‘ Nightmares’, if you like Kaider fluff you can check it out!!  🖤 )

Likes, Reblogs and Comments will be much loved!  🖤

P.S Can you suggest some baby names for Kaider child, both the gender please.  

[xylaes]

Part 8

Prologue —> Here Part 1 –-> Here Part 2 —> Here Part 3 —> Here Part 4 —> Here Part 5 —> Here (@fio-renze and @theconstructsworld’s writing) Part 6 —> Here Part 7 ---> Here

**WARNING: Body horror, violence**

There was so much blood and carnage everywhere he looked, but he couldn’t lose focus. Not now, not yet. The faint touch of Callia’s hand against his arm or back every now and then grounded him and reminded him that he needed to keep going; her life, or whatever this was, depended on him holding his own. He wouldn’t fail her, not this time.

“Arrus…”

That sounded like a whisper in his ear, strange to be hearing it among the screaming and the clash of steel. The blasts of arcane magic came as quickly as he could muster them from that foreign limb attached to his body.

“Arrus, wake up…” What a strange thing for her to say at a time like this. 

He could feel the adrenaline slowly wearing away and all the pain beginning to seize up his muscles once more. Surely they had to be nearly free from this compound by now. His face felt cold, he didn’t have much longer. Callia touched his bloodied hand and somehow he managed to continue swinging that axe and using his newfound magic.

“Xylaes, WAKE UP!”

He hesitated, and that was the end of him. A cleaver wielded by a large abomination slashed downwards towards the center of his face.

Eyes flew open and he attempted to sit up only to be pushed back down against the bed. He was soaked with sweat and suddenly became very aware that his arm, no, that stranger’s arm, was restrained. “You were having that dream again.” Reality washed away the confusion. He was safe now, from everything except his own mind. 

Callia set the cold towel aside that she had been wiping his face with and leaned over him to release the restraint from the foreign arm. After nearly destroying this makeshift penthouse in his sleep thanks to the unbridled magic coursing through that arm, everyone, including himself, decided it was best to make sure that never happened again. Xylaes rolled the wrist and opened and closed the hand while staring at it; it had become a choice every day that he had to make whether or not he wanted to keep this strange arm. His actual arm was being kept cryogenically frozen in case he ever wanted to go through with the limb replantation, and Pollux had also visited and offered to make him a prosthetic limb with all the bells and whistles. Eventually he would have to decide, but there were a lot of factors involved and he wasn’t ready to fully confront the fact that he had a dead man’s arm sewn onto him just yet.

“Yeah...I figured.” He reached over to grab a glass of water from the bed table and chugged down the entire thing before turning his attention to Callia. This had become a normal routine for them, she had slipped so easily into caregiver mode and practically lived in the penthouse with him while he healed. It was all a little awkward at first, Fio gave them space, but Callia also gave Fio and him space as needed. Fiorenze was still alive, after all. Eventually Xylaes would go back to the world of the living, somewhere Callia herself couldn’t go, and she wanted him to be happy there. Here was a woman that clearly loved him despite everything, and would do anything for him. Callia refused to put herself in the way and deny him that.

At the same time, it felt good to have him here; that was a rare feeling in Maldraxxus. They spent hours talking about their son and about their new lives, and the anger she harbored towards him gradually faded away and was replaced with something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Just like him, she was very good at hiding her true feelings. After he spoke on what happened after her death and then during his time in jail, she found it difficult to maintain those ugly thoughts that he had just been using her all along. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t be here right now.

He sat up straight to peel the sweat-soaked shirt off, tossing it to the side before glancing down to the various healing wounds scattered about. At this point, most everything had scarred over, although the broken ribs and some of the other, deeper trauma inflicted would take longer. “How is everything feeling today?” Callia crawled in closer to him on the bed, laying a hand upon the foreign limb.

She was still just as beautiful as he remembered. A little harder and thicker around the edges, but that only strengthened the attraction. She was out of her typical armor, instead donning a simple white nightgown for comfort which meant she felt safe here with him. It was a nice feeling. He laid his hand atop hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, “About the same. Sore, stiff, have a headache…” Among some more mental issues that he wouldn’t mention. She knew.

Her gaze became distant for a moment, something that had been happening more and more often as their time together passed. She was quick to snap out of it at the touch of his hand and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. Despite all the time spent together, intimacy had been largely kept off the table. There were a few shared kisses, occasionally she would lay next to him in bed, but that’s about as far as it went. The topic never came up, and both seemed hesitant on everything given this entire bizarre situation; not to mention after all he had been through, it wasn’t often on his mind. “You should think about going home, you seem well enough to travel. Plus whatever you decide with..” She squeezes the arm, “..needs to be done back in Azeroth.”

His lips pulled into a deep frown. He knew at some point he would have to leave, but a part of him didn’t want to. Those moments when his thoughts got away from him, he would think about how he could be here with her, permanently. It’s not that he wanted to die, he didn’t go through absolute hell in his life to end it all now. That and he had their son to get back to. Callia would never forgive him if he chose her over him, nor would he forgive himself. She had already been working on letters for Xylaes to bring to their son; spending hours at the desk writing, crumpling up the paper to throw it away, then starting over. Xylaes made sure to hold onto every single one of those crumpled pages, but always refused to read them. “I know…I just...” No other words came out, but the pained expression spoke volumes.

She smiled and nodded in understanding. The words needn’t be spoken, they both knew that theirs was a bond of love that transcended even death. A love he would have to leave to death yet again.

@fio-renze​ @theconstructsworld

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Mabel’s All-in-One Guide to Being a Shooting Star: How to Avoid Being Caught and Other Tips You Should Know

Chapter Three: Not Dipper

A big ol thank you to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

He’s so tall and handsome as hell; he’s so bad but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins.- Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

Warmth.

Warmth and safety.

Those were the first things Mabel noticed when she woke up for those few brief seconds, the first things she could recall feeling. She was too tired to open her eyes, and her head was freaking killing her, but there was warmth seeping into her skin like melted butter into bread, and something smelled remarkably good.

It wasn’t a familiar smell, not by any means, but she found she liked it quite a lot. She turned her face towards the warm, smooth fabric the scent was coming from, nuzzling it happily with a small smile.

It didn’t help her killer headache, of course, but her bed or whatever it was, it smelled goooooood, and she was all for it.

She felt as if nothing could touch her, there in that little bubble of delicious-smelling warmth, and she wondered idly if Dipper was around, because she only ever felt so happy and safe when she was with him.

When had she seen him last, again? Mabel couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything, really.

Oh well. Whatever. She was warm. She was safe. She was comfortable. She was happy. She smiled again, just a little bit, as her thoughts faded when she lost consciousness again.

She would not be so content when she woke the second time.

———————————————————————

There was a throbbing in her skull. An intense kind, particularly in her temples and behind her eyes. It hurt worse when she opened her eyes, and it took them several rapid blinks to adjust to lights that were actually quite dim, but with her concussion headache, they seemed ridiculously bright against the blue ceiling.

“Yeesh,” she muttered, sitting up on the… was that a chaise? Yup, okay, that was definitely a chaise. She’d never even seen one in person; those things were for fancy people. Mabel had always been many things, but fancy most certainly wasn’t one of them.

Anyway, she was sitting up on the super-duper fancy chaise, her hands supporting her. “My head, what in the…” Dammit, her wrists and arms hurt, too, those were, ugh, were those rope marks? They sure looked like rope marks.

There was a sound nearby when she spoke loud enough to be heard, but Mabel’s head was throbbing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear much of anything. She massaged the skin on her wrists, trying to get the soreness to dissipate. It didn’t.

And then the whole thing came rushing back.

Shit. Was she married to the gnomes now? Was that gonna be her life? No, no, it was fine, gnome marriage wasn’t legally binding, she didn’t think, and even if it was, it wasn’t legal for somebody to marry a whole bunch of people at once, and it definitely wasn’t legal for that somebody to be an unwilling participant. Therefore, any marriage contracts they may or may not have drawn up were null and void, legally speaking. Which meant she needed to escape. Which meant she needed to figure out where she was.

Wait, what about the blood-gnome? What was up with that? Or, shit, the floating glow-dude! What the heckity hecking heckfire was going on with that shiz?

Suddenly, out of nowhere (or perhaps not truly nowhere; she just hadn’t examined where she was just yet, as she hadn’t looked up), a pair of arms wrapped around her, and her head was squished against a very masculine, yummy-smelling (the same smell as before, actually! What a lovely coincidence!) chest. Mr. Hugglebus reached up and threaded his fingers through Mabel’s hair, holding her head against him.

“Mabel,” a voice whispered, like its owner couldn’t believe he was getting to say her name. It was familiar, but also very much not, and Mabel was, like, off-the-charts levels of confuzzled. “Mabel,” the voice said again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

It was hard to think with the pounding in her ears, but she did her best to ignore it.

She had bigger things to deal with than a headache, no matter how nasty it was.

“Wh- whoa there, friend,” Mabel said shakily, putting her hand on his chest and pushing away from him lightly. Mr. Hugglebus pulled back enough for Mabel to get a proper look at him, and…

Wait.

What?

“Dipper?” she gasped. He said nothing. “What is up with your hair, man?” she laughed. “Or- or your getup, like! What? You goin’ to a fancy party or something? No, no, wait!” she was giggling, and it hurt her head, but it was just so goddamn good to see him she didn’t care. “Okay okay, I know! You’re doing, like, a knock-off impersonation of Gideon, right?” He furrowed his brow, annoyance filling his ice blue eyes.

But… wait. Ice blue eyes? Dipper has brown eyes. They were identical to hers. She knew this. She’d stared into those stupid-beautiful eyes of his a bazillion and one times. She knew her bro bro’s eyes, aight? She knew those suckers. This guy, though. This guy was different. Like. Different different.

“Are you… are you Dipper? ‘Cause like. The Dipster I know won’t even wear color contacts for cosplay purposes, and those eyes ain’t blue naturally, so…”

It was several moments before he finally spoke. He was gazing at her with this weirdly intense look in his eyes (holy crap, those eyes, they were so pretty, nobody’s eyes should be allowed to be that freakin’ blue) she’d never seen on anyone before.

“I’m not… your Dipper,” his emphasis the ‘your’ was strange, condescending, as if he loathed saying it.

She scooted away, her back hitting the arm of the chaise.

All she could think about was a gnome drenched in blood, babbling in terror before exploding violently.

”Then who are you?” she whispered, eyes wide.

He smiled, and not unkindly, either. It was… strange. It was a kind smile from someone who didn’t look like such things came to them naturally. It was nothing like her twin’s smile.

Nothing like it at all.

It did something to her insides. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t know how to interpret or name.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, keeping his distance, his legs twitching as if he wanted to get closer to her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said, not believing him in the slightest. ‘Cause. Like. The blood-gnome. Had that been him? Had he done that? She hadn’t seen it, but in retrospect, it totally made sense for him to have done that somehow. “But who are you?” she asked again.

“I’m something of an… alternate version of the Dipper you know.” The more he spoke, the more she found his voice to be different and strange. Plus, he looked so similar to Dipper, but Mabel only ever saw her bro’s birthmark once in a blue moon. This guy had it front and center, and his hair was slicked back, and she lowkey wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like. His voice was deeper than Dipper’s. More monotone, too. It was bizarre.

It was… it was attractive, is what it was. His look and attitude, the whole shebang, it was just insanely attractive. Wait, no, no! Mabel thought to herself. It’s cool, Mabel girl, you’re all good, everything’s a-okay, it’s just that he looks like your bro, alright? No big deal. Well, okay, you shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts about your bro, either, but we’re well past that.

“Alternate… version…?” Wait. Shit. Maybe he was… “Are you the anti-Dipper?” She whispered frantically, trying to back away more as if her back wasn’t already firmly pressed against the armrest. “There’s tons of different versions of me, I know that, but I’ve never seen another version of Dipper, and you look just freakin’ like him except for your whole… style and general demeanor, I guess, so-“ she was trying to get up, but holy hot pockets, that was some serious dizziness right there.

Moreover, was there another Mabel in this universe? She hadn’t seen another Mabel in years. It’d be… interesting to see one again. Wait, shit, if he was the anti-Dipper, there was the anti-Mabel somewhere around there, and Mabel was not at all confident she could currently best the anti-Mabel in a fight. And something told her the anti-Mabel wasn’t exactly one for fighting fair and waiting till she was ready. She wasn’t the meme-worth Inigo Montoya, and this wasn’t The Princess Bride.

Dammit.

Wait, he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. And she’d definitely never met him before, she would’ve remembered a fancy, older version of her bro, which could only mean he was talking about the other Mabel. Had something happened to her? Had she left, maybe?

“I’m not,” he cut in quickly, moving towards her slowly, like she was a feral cat ready to book it at any moment. “I’m not the… anti-Dipper, or whatever it was you said.”

She looked around. They appeared to be in some sort of dressing room. No, wait, it was Gideon’s dressing room! Except it wasn’t, because Not-Dipper was there, lounging on the ultra-fancy chaise as if he owned it, which he might very well have done, because Not-Dipper didn’t exactly look like he was a broke college student.

He looked like he used hundred dollar bills as tissues like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland.

Still very much fighting the urge to attempt to GTFO, as the kids say, Mabel turned back to him. “What are you, then?” He blinked for a moment, as if he were surprised, and then she belted out more questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? You don’t look like you’re the same age as me, which is weird if we’re kinda-sorta-pseudo-twins. Why am I here? Where even is here? How-“

“Okay, let’s do this properly, shall we?” He tilted his head when he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards in another one of those strange smiles that did something to Mabel’s insides. “One question at a time,” he said, holding up a long, slender finger. “You can ask me anything you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. However,” he crossed one leg over the other, his foot dangling off his knee, the arm closest to her draping casually over the back of the chaise, “for every question I answer, I get to ask one of you in return. You don’t have to answer me, of course, but if you choose not to, that’ll be the end of our little game,” he paused for a moment. “For the time being, at least. Sound fair?”

She nodded hesitantly. She could stop at any time, right?

“Go ahead, then,” he waved the hand that dangled haphazardly over the chaise.

“What’s your name?”

“Mason William Gleeful, but I’ve always been called Dipper,” he said easily, as if he’d been fully expecting that very question.

“Because of the birthmark, I assume,” Mabel was very careful not to phrase it as a question, not to raise the pitch in her voice at the end of her sentence. She didn’t know how he’d react if she asked two questions in a row.

“A fair assumption,” he agreed with a slight nod and another one of those smiles. Ugh. Could ya not, man? Like, for real, Mabel thought. His smile was most definitely not helping her nausea. “And your name? Your full name, if you would.”

“Oh, um,” was she seriously forgetting her own name? Jeez, Mabel, get it together, he’s not Dipper, get over it! “M- Mabel Caroline Pines,” she managed to stutter out.

“Pines, hm? Interesting. Alright then. Shall I go along with your other questions from before, as well?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering about your last name,” he raised his eyebrows at her and motioned for her to continue. “There’s a sort of… psychic, I guess is what you’d call him, in my universe, and he has that last name. Is that… I mean… we are in what looks like his dressing room, so…”

“I did shows here,” he said quietly, a strange look in his eye, as if he wasn’t seeing her despite looking right at her. “Once upon a time.”

“Oh. I see,” she squeaked out.

His gaze sharpened on her again, and he was moving closer to her, and Mabel tried to back up further, her sneakers scrambling against the fabric of the chaise. Eeek way too close way too close back the fudge up, man, what are you even-

“Why were you in his dressing room?” He was right in front of her face by that point, like waaaaaaay too close, ‘cause their noses were almost brushing and she could see each individual eyelash, and god his eyes were even more startlingly beautiful up close, and she wanted to reach up and touch-

No no no no, bad, bad Mabel, he’s not your Dipper, this is a different version! she told herself firmly. No touchy!

“We gave each other makeovers,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice even. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she got mildly defensive. “I was twelve! He was… I dunno, ten or eleven! Jeez!” He chuckled at that, then leaned away from her, satisfied with her answer, she supposed, and resumed his previous position as if he’d never moved from it at all.

As if he hadn’t just sent a chill down her spine that was… not altogether unpleasant, which was significantly more concerning than it would’ve been if she’d hated every second he’d been near her.

She pursed her lips and put it from her mind. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” he said easily. “And you?”

“Nineteen,” she told him quietly, surprised at his age. She glanced at the foot he’d balanced on his knee.

His shoes were fancy, too. Everything about him seemed to be. “Not what you were expecting, I see,” he observed from her expressions. Damn her and her expressive face!

“Well, it makes sense, because you certainly look older than… than my Dipper.” Her voice shook on the word ‘my’.

His hand clenched into a fist.

She didn’t know what to think of it. Was he angry, or did it mean nothing?

“But it also doesn’t make sense, because if it’s a parallel universe, we should be the same age, I would think.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Not-Dipper reasoned. “In some universes, time moves at different rates, from what I’ve gathered. In our case, it’s the same, but it seems I was born earlier. I was born in 1993, whereas you were born in…” he thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “1999.”

“Oh.” She’d never noticed that when interacting with other Mabels. Perhaps it was simply because she was too preoccupied with not dying. It had seemed rather urgent at the time.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “So, your questions,” he reminded her after a few seconds of silence.

“Right.” What had they been again? He kept looking at her, she had to get him to stop doing that. It was distracting. His eyes were distracting. She couldn’t think when they were in her, dammit. Oh! That was it! “Where are we?”

“My universe. I found you with and brought you here through a portal,” he stuck a hand in his pocket. “If you meant the locale, however, as I said before, this was our-“ he cut himself off, took a breath. “My dressing room until several years ago, when I stopped performing.”

“I… see,” she said slowly. So where was the other Mabel, then? Shouldn’t there be a fancy, blue-eyed, properly Adult™ version of herself somewhere? She looked around the dressing room (holy crapinoli, she didn’t think she’d ever seen so much blue in one room), but there were no signs of a woman anywhere. There were no perfume bottles or makeup on the vanity, no dresses on the clothing rack, nothing.

How strange.

“Why were you in Gravity Falls?” He asked.

“To get away.” Helooked at her questioningly. Did it count if it was an unspoken question? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t risking it. “I needed an escape. College can be… stressful.”

That wasn’t the full reason, of course, but she wasn’t lying, either.

“Interesting.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. How could a person’s fingers be pleasant to look at?

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You needed help,” he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He winced slightly when he did, but just a bit; the change in expression so minor she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “However did you find yourself kidnapped by gnomes, of all things? Gnomes who wanted you for their queen, no less.”

She looked away. It’d been a long time since she had fought against anything but class schedules and exams she wasn’t prepared for.

“They… caught me off guard,” she told him quietly. “They tried something similar when I was a kid, but they lost. It never occurred to me that they might try again.”

“Gnomes are persistent little things,” he mused. “They dislike losing, and they are quite stubborn. It stands to reason that they’d try again if you’d beaten them before.”

“What… what did you do?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “To the gnomes, I mean. Unless, of course, I’m misremembering, because there is every chance I am, what with the concussion I very likely have and all, so if I am just say the word, but it seemed pretty dang clear that-“

“I killed them,” he said bluntly. His face was bored, disinterested. Apathetic, even. It didn’t even seem to be bothering him. How could it not be bothering him? Unless…

Unless he’d killed before.

The human brain could get used to just about anything if given enough time.

“You- you killed them,” her voice was horrified, she knew. She could hear it in her tone. Yeah, she’d wanted to get away from them, she’d wanted them to leave her alone, and maybe she’d even wanted to give them a good whack, but she hadn’t wanted them dead.

“Of course I did,” he sounded surprised at her reaction. “They hurt you. They were going to hurt you far worse.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I know that. But that doesn’t give you the right to just… you can’t be someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. That’s not right.”

“I only did it to save you, Mabel.” She had only heard Not-Dipper say her name once before.

It was different than when Dipper said it. Maybe it was because Not-Dipper’s voice was a little deeper, a little smoother-sounding?

“You weren’t safe. Not in your universe.” His eyes were burning, which was strange since they were the color of ice. “I can keep you safe. I will keep you safe.”

“Ummm… that’s cool and all, but that’s pretty freakin’ unsettling, to have somebody just, like. ‘Splode a bunch of gnomes for you,” she eyed him warily, still trying to figure out how to get away from the dude without crawling. Would he get angry with her for not being appreciative? She didn’t want to see him angry. Would he hurt her?

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he told her quietly, his voice a little sad.

She almost lied and told him she wasn’t scared of him, that everything was hunky-dorey, and that he should smile.

She didn’t.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have, I dunno, made people explode in front of me?” She was being sarcastic, she knew, and that was probably a bad idea, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

“Gnomes aren’t people, technically,” he reminded her.

“Semantics,” she waved his argument away. “They’re living creatures. Or they were, anyway, before you decided to go and massacre them.”

Not-Dipper had a look on his face that suggested he wasn’t opposed to killing living creatures, whether they were human or not.

Maybe he already had.

Mabel hoped he hadn’t, but something in the way he held himself gave her a sneaking suspicion that he had.

“I’m sorry if that… bothers you, or if it scares you. I don’t want to make you feel those things,” he sighed. “That said, I think it’d be best if I were up front with you: if put in the same situation again -if you were in danger again, that is to say- I’d do the same thing.”

She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and glared at him. “Take me home, please.”

There was panic in his eyes. “I- I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The portal… it doesn’t work like that. I’ll have to find another way to get you back,” he explained. She was still glaring at him when he continued. “But for the time being, you can stay with me. If you want,” he turned his body to face her for the first time since he’d hugged her.

“Well. I suppose that’ll have to- WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” She was pointing, horrified, to his shoulder, where one arrow, perhaps about a foot long, was embedded in his shoulder. Another was in his side, the one that had been facing away from her. Blood had seeped through to pool around the entry wounds, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His eyes followed her shaking finger.

“Oh, right. I got shot with a couple of arrows. Just gnome ones, though, so they’re quite small,” she dropped her hand back to the soft fabric of the chaise.

“Okay, so you saved me, and you got hurt doing it,” she was saying this to herself, staring at her knees and speaking as if he couldn’t hear her when he could absolutely hear her. “Okay. Okay. This is fine, this is fine, Mabel girl.” She looked back up at him. “Okay, let’s go… wherever we need to go for you to treat those… yeah…”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll take you there.”

He helped her to her feet, and she still found herself a bit dizzy, wobbling a bit.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he offered, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“Carry m- say what now?”

“I don’t mind, particularly if you’re having difficulty walking still.” As if that explanation was adequate! Why was homeboy cool with it at all, though? She’d gotten a hella nasty gash on her leg once in PE, can ya guess how many people offered to freakin’ carry her to the nurse? Zero, is the answer. Zero.

What a weird dude. And Mabel was in love with her gay twin brother, so if she, of all people, thinks you’re weird, then you are weird.

“Nope!” she squeaked out way too quickly to sound even remotely close to being normal. “I’m good on the carrying front, thanks! Got it covered!”

“Suit yourself.” Ugh why, why was he smiling that smile again, it reminded her of Dipper and also not, and it made her nervous as all hell. “This way.” And with that, he promptly strolled out of his dressing room, clearly expecting her to follow.

[jonspurpleskirt]

Down the Spiral

Tim Stoker & Jonathan Sims, hurt/comfort

Summary: Michael loves playing with the Archivist and so after Not-Sasha is taken care of and Jon is back at the Institute murder charge free it reveals that he has Sasha stashed "savely" in its halls. All Jon has to do to get her out is go through the yellow door. ____

Everything just kept getting worse. That thought hadn't left his mind since the confrontation with Elias. It kept him from his work, making him stare at the statement he had wanted to record hours ago. Something impatient within him tugged to finally get on with it, but his eyes just didn't see the words in front of him and the insides of his head kept resembling a barren wasteland.

There was nothing good in his life anymore. There was nothing good in any of their lives anymore. He had ruined everything. Dragged everyone into the cage with him and locked the door because he hadn't known any better.

If he had just known...

But he hadn't and now they were all trapped here. Nothing waiting for them outside and nothing but hostility meeting them inside. At least that was the case for Jon. He didn't know if Tim and Martin still spoke, still sometimes joked with each other. If Melanie had made friends with Basira perhaps, or god forbid even Daisy. The two of them shared a frightening amount of bloodlust.

He doubted it, though. Whenever he dared to emerge from his office these days the atmosphere in the shared space of the Archives was tense. One or more of them were always gone, Basira more often than not sitting somewhere reading.

Neither of them did much work these days, Jon mused. It was funny that once upon a time that thought would have made him angry.

Jon sighed, glancing over the statement for the upteenth time, saying to himself that now he would finally start and do some work, when loud cursing and several crashes made him jump out of his chair and run towards the door.

He ripped it open with the wrong hand, the burn left by Jude Perry sending a stab of pain through his arm.

Basira, Tim and Melanie were for once all there, and had taken on various defensive poses. They didn't grace Jons dramatic entrance with even the slightest of glances, but the being that called itself Michael grinned and cooed as though it didn't have a knife, an axe and a gun pointed at it.

"Archivist! Just whom I wanted to see~ It is quite hard to get a grip on you, you know. I've been meaning to have a little chat with you for a while now."

Jon squeezed his eyes together to ward of the headache Michaels multiple voices and impossible features always gave him. He breathed through the pain, before looking at the Distortion again, squinting to be able to make out something that resembled a coherent form.

The image still swam in front of him, Michaels smile literally blinding, teeth flashing with too many deeply saturated colours.

"Hello Michael. What do you want?"

"Awww you don't sound excited to see me at all! I've got more of a reaction from your assistants."

The thing pouted, but the grin reappeared fast when it heard the click of the safety of Basiras gun coming off.

"Aha I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice it used screeched like nails on a chalkboard and a microphone with its volume set too high. Weapons clattered to the floor as everyone scrambled to shield their ears from the sound. Jon felt a trickle of blood running down the side of his neck and winced.

"There. Better. You people are so rude." The laughter that followed was worse than the voices before, high pitched and low, aggressively amused.

"Michael." Jon hissed and it stopped.

"Yes dear Archivist?"

"Why are you here?"

"Ah." A misplaced chuckle, alltogether fake and a hungry grin. "I've heard you've dealt with Not-Sasha! Congratulations! Do you want the real one back now?"

"What?"

Tim had recovered fast and somehow had already taken up the axe again. He looked more than prepared to chop Michaels head off with it.

"Oh hello! I forgot you were here, too. How did you like my hallways?"

"Fuck you! What are you talking about?!"

Michael shrugged, or what could be perceived as a shrug. It was hard to tell when there seemed to be three sets of shoulders all in various places they shouldn't be.

"It is as I said. I took Sasha into my hallways so she could flee from the thing in the table. And now that Not-Sasha is gone I'm willing to trade her."

"Trade her for what?"

Jon had a bad feeling about this, but he let Tim lead the conversation. Better he ask the questions. Jon didn't want to accidently use compulsion and make Michael angry.

"Why for the Archivist of course! I'm terribly bored at the moment. No good prey out there. And I'd love to see how my hallways work against someone from the Eyes ilk."

"So it would be a game to you." Jon was careful to not word it as a question.

Michaels blinding smirk hit him square in the chest and left him heaving. "Yes, you could see it that way."

"Jon." Basira warned, inching toward him.

Melanies lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes never strayed from the Distortion, even when tears started to run down her face from the strain. She kept quiet, but it was clear that she would attack if she felt it to be necessary.

"And that exchange."

"Yes." Michael dared him to ask.

"What would it look like."

"No static! My you are truly making an effort! It goes like this. You come here and step into my door and I let Sasha out."

"Jon we can't trust him." Basira hissed.

"I'm an it, actually." Michael purred.

"Whatever."

"I know. I want to see her. Melanie, you know what Sasha looks like. We'll both verify."

"Hmmm, sounds like a deal. Come here."

Jon scowled at the crooked finger beckoning him to come closer. Michaels horrible 8 bit laugh echoed through the Archive again.

"Don't be shy. I won't stab you this time, I promise!"

"What." Tim sounded about as done as Jon felt.

He'd rather not have to explain himself though. He was glad Tim wasn't directing his ire at him at the moment. So he quickly crossed the distance and came to stand stiffly beside Michael, tensing when the entity curled three of its impossible long fingers around his elbow.

"Marvelous!"

Another door that had appeared in on of the shelves banged open and out of it stumbled a woman with clammy tanned skin, big round trendy glasses and warm brown wavy hair, her grey eyes open wide.

Tim stumbled forward to catch her, trembling about as much as her. "Sasha?"

He looked to Jon for confirmation, who had to fight back his own tears. "Yes. Yes."

"That's her." Melanie whispered her own affirmation.

Before the smile on Jons lips had time to fully form he was yanked back, the yellow door slamming shut behind him. It felt like being dragged into a whirlpool while high on LSD and if Michaels realm would have permitted it Jon would have lost what little food he had eaten that day right then and there.

As it was he had to endure the minutes or hours he had to get used to the shift in reality, unsure if he was standing, laying down or sitting. When his head eventually stopped spinning and his eyes and other sensory input systems agreed to work again he found himself standing at a deadend. The door and Michael were gone, but the air was still filled with joyous laughter.

"Welcome to my humble abode little Archivist! I hope you like getting lost~"

Jon frowned at his surroundings that seemed to tilt and wobble under his every step. He was sure Michael was being extra distorting with the surroundings it had thrown Jon into. Jon didn't want to give it the satisfaction of knowing how much that bothered him. Although he doubted he could hide his terror from it.

Time didn't matter in the Distortions halls. It all melted together, turning and twisting into a bizarre fever dream. Jon relaxed as much as was possible with the horrible migraine that had formed behind his eyes. This actually wasn't so bad. He would probably just wander around aimlessly until he would either die from hunger or thirst, Michael would grow bored and kill him or he actually found the exit.

Jon very much doubted the latter. He had no real grasp of his supposed powers and the Beholding only opted to drop in a fact or two about the colours that normal humans shouldn't be able to see.

When he didn't grow tired nor hungry or thirsty in what he presumed was quite a while a new fear formed beside the pounding in his head. What if he was stuck in here forever?

But even that terror dulled over what didn't quite account for time. The hallways got tamer. They were still decorated with garish colours and wallpaper, bits of furniture strewn about here and there. But they had stopped being all wobbly and impossible.

Well they were less impossible. Jon thought as he walked through a wardrobe only to emerge from a mirror into a room with six walls, three doors, a window and a painting.

On and on it went until he felt deep in his bones a rhythm to it all. There was a spiral pattern to the twisting turns of the rooms and hallways. Inverted and containing a lot of deadends, but it was there and all Jon needed to do was follow it.

Down and down he went, even when the path lead him upward or turned him upside down. His head started to feel blissfully empty for once. No worry, no greater goal. He could just exist here in this weird home and wander. He might be as lost as he had been in the real world, but at least here he wasn't hurting anyone.

Electrical lights flickered on and off before turning to torches casting pink shadows across the chessboard walls. He startled out of his haze when he heard the clacking of heels somewhere to his right, a thought thundering into his mind, shattering all other not thoughts that hadn't resided in there.

"Helen!"

"Jon?"

"Helen! I'm here. Stay where you are!"

Jon skidded around the corner and there she was, still wearing her business dress and jacket, chin length brown hair curling around her ears. She was sobbing before he could even get to her and soon he had an armful of crying real estate agent in his arms.

They held each other tight and just weeped for what felt like an eternity, but was still too short.

"I was so scared." Helen sobbed as she drew back just enough to fix her gaze on Jon. "I thought I walked out of the Institute, but instead I found myself back in these horrible hallways and I couldn't find a way out this time, but I just couldn't stop walking, you know? I needed to find some way out. And Jon, Jon! There's an end here. It's close I just know it! You believe me right? That's why you're here? You're also looking for the end?"

Jon rubbed up and down her arms to calm her. "Yes. Yes Helen. I'm so sorry. Had I known-"

"It's alright." She gave him a watery impression of a smile. "It'll be all alright soon. I hear it whispering. Come."

"Now that was quite the show." Michael suddenly stood between them and they sprung apart. It had its arms crossed and a deep frown carved into what could have been its face.

Jon couldn't exactly make out its eyes. And yet he was sure there was a spark of fear there.

"It was nice to play with you." Michael adressed Helen. "But I feel you overstayed your welcome."

A door appeared behind her, standing in the middle of the hallway, no walls around it.

"There is the exit. Shoo."

She looked at Michael with wide, glassy eyes. "No. No I can't. I need-"

And with a sudden, horrible clarity Jon knew what would happen if she didn't leave now. A door locked from the outside. The body of Michael Shelley destroyed. Helen lost.

"Helen. Please believe me when I say that this is better. Don't heed the call. It will only cost you."

Her flitted between Jon and Michael, hesitating. "Why?"

"Michael was human once, too." Jon whispered and understanding bloomed behind her eyes.

"Oh. But can I be sure?"

"I can." Jon assured her. "You can open that door. It's save."

She swallowed. "Okay. Okay. Are you coming with?"

She reached for him, but Jon shook his head. "No. I don't believe my game is quite finished yet."

He looked over to Michael to make sure. The Distortion looked back at him, frown lightened by a pensive look. It didn't feel the need to correct him.

"Okay." Helen said again, sounding like it was everything but. "You'll be fine, though?"

Jon gave her the best smile he could manage at the moment, which wasn't much. "I think so, yes."

"Good then. I'll... see you around. Just. Not here, I guess."

"Yes. Take care Helen."

"You too."

The door clicked softly shut behind her, taking with it the swift breeze of fresh air and gentle midday sunlight.

Jon sighed. "That was... something. Thank you for letting her go."

"Hmmm."

Jon felt a deep satisfaction at how uncomfortable Michael seemed to be at the moment.

"I guess I shouldn't continue to walk down, then?"

"You were walking straight."

"It's all the same here, though, isn't it?"

"Stop that." Michael frowned harder, drawing itself up, terror apparent in the way it shook, after images pulsing off it in waves.

"What?"

"Knowing me."

"Sorry."

"You could just walk back up again, you know." Michael muttered, friendly facade all but forgotten. A near death experience would do that to you. Jon could sympathize.

He nodded, indulgent. "I guess I could."

Michael heaved a sigh that sounded more like the blare of an airhorn. "I'll show you out."

Jon didn't deem it necessary to tell it that it could just manifest a door like it had done with Helen. He got that Michael probably needed a hot minute to digest what had just happened. And for once Jon was more than content with providing some company.

It was Michael who talked first, essentially giving Jon its statement. Jon saw the fierce anger burn behind those multicoloured eyes and was reminded of Tim and his fury at Jons betrayal.

"How much of Michael is there in you, then?" Jon carefully asked, voice so soft it was barely there in order to keep any sort of compulsion out of it.

"That's not the right question to ask Archivist. Because there is no answer to that, that would stay definite. How much of you is in those tapes you record? It's your voice in there. How much of you is actually you? There's no meaningful distinction."

"That doesn't sound right."

"That's because you're too deep inside your head." Michael laughed. It wasn't as grating as usual.

"Thank you for keeping Sasha safe, by the way." Jon whispered into the screaming silence that had enveloped the two as they meandered through the endless expanse of hallway stretching out in front of them.

"You are no fun."

"Pardon?"

Slim fingers crawled like worms across his shoulder. His head spun with a sudden dizzying motion, feeling oddly light. His skin tingled with confused nerves at the points of contact. Unconsciously he leaned into the touch loosing himself in the sensations. The Distortion was less scary now that he knew it. It was actually kind of sad and he might have formed a small grudge against Gertrude for it.

Michael huffed beside him, caught between grinning and frowning. Jon wondered which emotion the Spiral wanted to portray and which one actually belonged to what was left of Michael Shelley.

"That's what I mean. You're not afraid at all! You're enjoying yourself. That just won't do."

It nudged him forward and oh, there was a yellow door there. Jon stepped up to hit and hesitated, hand hovering over the handle.

"What is it now?" Michael grumbled behind him, pout evident in its voice.

"I... I'm not sure if... I'm not sure if it's alright for me to get out."

Michael blinked at him in surprise. Jon shouldn't have been able to see it, but the motion was reflected in front of him.

"I just don't know if it's a good thing that I'm out there. Something is going on with me and at least in here I'm not hurting anyone."

"You... don't want to get out? You like it here?" Shrill, disbelieving laughter filled every nook and cranny of their space, drilling into Jons head and hollowing out his skull. Michael was bent over in a spine breaking way, arms wrapped twice around it and shaking with manic chuckles when Jon turned to frown at it.

"Two people in a row wanting to stay." It giggled, rightning itself. "I really need to redecorate this place." It shook its head, smile sharp yet soft. "No Archivist I will not drag you around as deadweight. Not when you aren't even making an effort of being afraid."

Jon squeaked as he was lifted, knife hands nicking the skin on his cheek and temple. With a heavy thump Michael kicked the door to the Archives open, startling Tim awake, who had been slumped over the desk, facing the door.

"We're baaack!" Michael crooned. "I'll leave you to decide if the Archivist should stay." He dumped Jon into Tims lap, who was barely awake enough to grab at Jon before he slid off.

"But Jon, when you next step into my door I will not let you back out again. See you around~"

Jon tried to identify the exact moment Michael had left the room. It was a futile attempt and not at all enough to distract from the fact that he was currently still inhabiting Tims lap.

"I'm sorry I'll-" Jon tried to stand up, but the arms around him tightened and he was squashed unceremonously against Tims body.

"Jon"

Oh no. What had he done now? He just got here why was Tim already so mad? Was he mad? Oh good lord he was crying. Jon awkwardly turned so he could sling unsteady arms around Tims neck, letting the man bury his head into his shoulder.

"Uhm hi?" He'd really rather go back to Michaels hallways now, please. This was already starting out to be a situation much more terrifying than wandering forever in a fever dream.

"You absolute bastard!"

"Sorry?"

Tim laughed and it was a strange sound. Too normal after who knew how long in Michaels domain.

"No you don't get to apologize. Not when you don't even know what you've done." Tim stood, Jon scrambling to get his feet under him so he wouldn't crash.

Standing on even, unmoving ground was like coming back on land after a year at sea. Tim shaking him did not help his coordination.

"You've been gone for over three months. Over three months, Jon! We had to blow up the circus without you. Elias was pissed! But Sasha managed to McGyver together a remote control for the C4 and it was amazing! Pressing that button was probably the best thing to happen in my life!"

"Wait slow down." Jon mumbled, trying to keep up with Tims flood of exposition while simultanously trying to get Tim to stop shaking him. He was going to be sick at this rate.

Tim didn't seem to hear him. "And then everything was over and Sasha was there, but you still weren't. And that bloody door stayed here all the while, mocking us. It wouldn't open. We tried everything minus blowing it up, figured you wouldn't have liked that. Tried to hunt down other Spiral locations, but no odd door would open to us."

Tim took a huge breath and stopped shaking Jon, his grip tightening when Jon tried to put some space between them.

"We didn't know what to do. And then about a week ago Helen came in to tell us about what happened in the hallways. She's fine by the way. Apologized for waiting so long before coming by. She was sad to see you still missing, left her contact details and wants you to call her when your feeling like the world makes sense again, whatever that means."

Jon knew exactly what it meant. He was sure it would take him a while to make sense of anything that wasn't strobe light effects, after images and nausea. He would have liked to elaborate on that and point out that he really should sit down oh my god everything was spinning.

"We figured if she was out you'd come back, too. And we didn't want you to stumble into an empty Archive so we took turns watching the door. Do you know how hard it was to keep Martin from hogging all the night shifts? The man hasn't slept more than a wink in months I tell you. He looks about as bad as you so if you don't let him hug you and fuss I will play the most embarrassing prank I can think of on you next April Fools day, you hear me?"

Tim shook him once and Jon had to cough and force the bile back down his throat before he could answer.

"Quite."

"Good."

There was another shaky exhale and a much more tentative hug. "You look like shit, come on you can crash at my place."

"I too have a flat, Tim." Jon felt the need to remind him, but let himself be led to the front doors and to Tims car, grateful to finally be allowed to sit again.

"You just came back. No way am I letting you out my sight and give you the opportunity to vanish again. Sasha and Martin would have my head."

Jon frowned down at his hands, flinching when the car sprung to life and grabbing for an empty take out bag, just in case. Tims behavior deeply confused him. The last time he had mother henned him like this was back in Research. Did Michael accidently drop him in a different dimension?

"We're there."

How did Tim get to the side of his door? When had they started to move? When had they gotten to Tims flat? Good lord time didn't make sense anymore.

Jon half stumbled out of the car and followed Tim into his apartment.

"Make yourself comfortable boss. I'll get you some tea, yeah? And food. Try not to fall asleep on me yet. And don't wander off."

Where would he even wander off to? Jon wanted to ask. He forgot about that as soon as his body hit the hard surface of the couch. At least the pillow was nice enough to cushion his fall. Letting out a pitiful groan he levelled himself up again to take his glasses off, rubbing at the spots where the plastic had dug into his skin.

He was glad that Tim seemed to have calmed down during the ride. Maybe doing something had helped. Tim had always been an action guy, needing an outlet for all the pent up energy.

It all felt so surreal. Here he was, out of the hallways, in Tims flat, with Tim being nice to him and the apocalypse over and done with. He would probably get an earful for missing out on that one later. Probably from Melanie. Maybe from Basira and Daisy.

Gods they were alright. He was gone for so long and they were all fine. Maybe a bit more traumatized, if Tims behavior was anything to go by, but alive. And in this economy that was probably the best outcome they could get.

"Sasha, how is she?" Jon asked as soon as Tim came back into the room.

A rainbow coloured mug and a bowl of instant noodle soup was placed on the coffee table in front of him before Tim answered.

"She's amazing. I mean she's doing well. She was in way better shape than you coming out of there. But I guess you didn't exactly go in at the heighth of your power. She said she was afraid for awhile, that Michael would keep her forever. But she was also curious how the hallways worked and she kinda got lost trying to figure them out? She chatted with Michael whenever it popped up to gloat. It kept her updated pretty well actually, which is kind of creepy. I think out of all of us she had it the easiest."

"That's... that's so good to hear." Jon breathed.

Tim chuckled. It sounded suspiciously wet. "Yeah. Come on sit up and eat your shitty soup."

Before Jon could move on his own an arm curled around his waist and hoisted him into a sitting position.

"I can move myself, Tim." Jon grumbled, leaning heavily into Tims side either way. Just for the contact, he told himself. He could totally sit upright if he wanted to.

"Of course boss."

Tim turned on the TV as Jon ate, the soothing chatter of news reporter talking about the weather filling the air. Jon was half dozing, unsure if he had eaten much at all when Tim moved him again.

"You want to clean up before going to bed?"

Jon took stock of his body, weighting his options. It was as if his muscles only now began to realize the amount of miles they had walked. His scars itched and pulled and the cut on his throat as well as the burn on his hand pounded against the confines of his mangled skin. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, a bit of vertigo still throbbing in the back of his skull, while his ears still echoed faintly with piercing, inhuman laughter.

"No?"

"Okay. Sit tight boss I'm gonna get you a blanket."

Sit tight... Where did Tim think he would go, if he wasn't even up for taking a shower?

"You got better, too." Jon said in lieu of a thank you when a heavy blanket got draped over him.

"Hm. Blowing up a building helped."

"Ah yes, arson. The best therapy of all."

Tim laughed at that. "You'd be surprised. But actually I did get a therapist at Sashas request. I blew up at her a few times in between and she didn't take it well. I wanted to be better for her."

"Good." Jon mumbled, half asleep. "That's good."

"Yeah. Sleep well."

"Hmhm."

He woke up in the middle of the night. Or was it day? It was dark, but the curtains were drawn so he couldn't be sure. It wasn't to a full body flinch like he was used to waking up with. Just a slow, disorientated blinking into wakefulness.

The flinching came later, followed by a yell when he made out a blurry shape sitting in the arm chair mere inches away from him.

"Good Lord, Tim! What are you doing?!"

"Making sure you're not getting kidnapped." Was the brightly given answer.

"That's creepy." Jon grumbled, rubbing his eyes and settling his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"Well you're not the only one allowed to be spooky."

"M not spooky."

"Suuure. So Martin and Sasha will be by in a bit. Wanna tell me what all that about going back through Michaels door was about?"

Jon sighed. "He- it just threatened me."

"Really? Cause it kind of looked to me like it was kicking you out."

"I have it on good authority that I can be rather annoying, yes."

Tim crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at him. "Does that mean I and the others need to make sure you take the right doors from now on?"

"No?"

"That's not very reassuring, Jon."

"Why do you care all of a sudden?" It was said out of exhaustion and Jon immediately regretted it, seeing Tims face fall. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No." Tim took a shuddering breath, mussing up his hair with the hand that wasn't clutching at his own shirt. "No, that's fair. I've been an ass to you before... Fuck before you literally fed yourself to the Spiral in order to get Sasha back."

"You don't have to feel guilty about that."

"I do! But that's not just it. You've missed a lot. And I got better, but I'm still so angry most of the time. But when you were gone I was also fucking terrified. For Christs sake Jon we were friends once. And I just let you barter your life away like it was nothing. I was happy. When Sasha came back and you were gone I was even happy for a while."

Oh no he was crying again. They both were. He knew because Tim had gotten up to draw back the curtains before dropping onto the couch at Jons feet.

"I... it didn't last long. Call me selfish, but after a while all I wanted was for us to be complete again. You know the original four. It took me a bit to realize that I was mourning."

Tim barked out a broken laugh. "I've probably not slept about as much as Martin."

"You should then. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere at the moment."

"I can't. Every time I try I panic that you will be gone when I wake up."

Jon mulled that thought over in his head, an odd tingle flooding his body. "Lay down with me then?"

Tim stared at him for a moment, biting at his lip and barely stopping before drawing blood. "That... that sounds like an idea. Yeah. Let me draw the couch out first."

They could have just gone to bed, but Jon just about managed to drag himself to the armchair. And Tim hadn't offered so Jon wouldn't pry.

Tim collapsed on the couch and immediately reached out an arm and made grabby hands. Jon huffed out a small chuckle and obliged, trying not to seem too eager.

"We'll have to get up again when Sasha and Martin visit." Jon noted, snuggling into Tims chest with a sigh, whole body thrumming at the none violent contact.

"Sasha has a key." Tim muttered into his hair, spitting out some of the loose strands right after.

Jon shook his head. There seemed to be quite a lot he needed to be caught up on. And as they tangled their legs together Jon found that for once the future didn't look as threatening as it usually did.

[fishoutofcamelot]

I am once again thinking about a BBCM Mystery Skulls AU. Now, for those of you who are so woefully unaware of what Mystery Skulls is, allow me to set the scene.

(This ended up WAY longer than I was expecting, so I decided to put it all under the cut-off)

Merlin, Gwen, and Arthur have been friends since high school. Gwen is a spunky yet affectionate employee at a book store and despite her cutesy pastel aesthetic she has a bizarre interest in the occult/paranormal.

She came up with the idea for the three of them to form a ghost-hunting troop, and they call themselves the Mystery Skulls. And while Merlin and Arthur aren't nearly as invested in the idea as she is, since this is pretty much her hyperfixation, they are both very supportive nonetheless and enjoy going on adventures together.

Gwen has a pet lizard named Kilgharrah, and it's been in the family for a very long time, since before she was even born. Are lizards supposed to be able to live that long? She's never really given it much thought, but sometimes it seems almost...intelligent. Unnaturally so. Nevertheless, the weird and unexplainable is kinda their whole brand, and Kilgharrah has become something of a mascot for them, so they all let it slide.

Arthur is the Fred of the group. Muscular and almost-but-not-quite-a-himbo, he's the one driving the van with a cocky grin. Fearless, popular, everyone loves him, and besides some family issues he's got a good life. He and Gwen are in a relationship, and they're very lovey-dovey about it. He doesn't know much about the paranormal, certainly not as much as his girlfriend, but the idea of punching a ghost in the face is very alluring to him.

And then there's Merlin. He lives with his uncle Gaius due to...unexplained family drama, but the two of them have a good thing going. Gaius runs a mechanic shop on the edge of town, but his age is starting to catch up to him so Merlin has slid in as his replacement. Which makes sense, considering Merlin's near prodigy level of skill with machines. He's the one who fixed up an abandoned beat-up van and offered it up for their ghost-hunting endeavors. He quite likes Kilgharrah, ever a fan of pets and animals and the like, and Kilgharrah appears to begrudgingly return the sentiment.

Merlin has been third-wheeling Arthur and Gwen since high school. But he's not bitter about it, really he's not. He definitely doesn't feel left out, doesn't feel like an outsider, doesn't constantly worry that they would prefer it if he wasn't around, doesn't constantly feel forgotten and cast aside as he watches them get so absorbed in their two-way whirlwind passion. Not at all. So Merlin sits and smiles, because he truly is happy for his friends, and he pretends the loneliness doesn't bother him.

One day, they decide to investigate a mysterious cave. There are rumors of it being haunted by some kind of demonic entity. Merlin, as always, says it's a bad idea and they should turn back. Arthur, as always, teasingly calls him a coward. Gwen and Arthur exchange excited grins at the prospect of facing a real ghost. Merlin watches them wistfully, longingly. He fails to notice the way that Kilgharrah is getting increasingly anxious the closer they get to the cave.

Merlin has a really bad feeling about this cave, and a gut feeling tells him to go back to the van and head home. No one heeds his instincts.

There are two diverging paths in the cave, and Merlin dreads the moment that Arthur will inevitably suggest they split up. They usually split up between Merlin and Kilgharrah, and Arthur and Gwen. Because of course Arthur will want to pair off with his girlfriend.

Arthur notices that Merlin is scared, which makes sense because Merlin is always scared during their investigations. Gwen is sympathetic yet encouraging like she usually is - but notices that Merlin is more frightened than usual, so she suggests that Arthur pair off with Merlin instead this time, while she takes Kilgharrah. This doesn't make Merlin feel any better.

Arthur and Merlin head down one path in the cave, which eventually leads them to a cliff. All the while, Merlin keeps hearing whispers. Whispers that speak of horrible, macabre, terrible things, and all those whispers keep rattling in his mind like sharp-edged marbles. Arthur says he hears nothing at all, and they both conclude that Merlin is just hearing things.

He is not, in fact, just hearing things.

Arthur comes to the edge of the cliff and peers over to see the sharp, jagged stalagmites at the bottom. He beckons Merlin to come over and check out this cool view - but Merlin can't.

Merlin is...frozen. Petrified. Unable to move because of all the whispers attacking his mind from all angles, pounding into him with a righteous headache. His thoughts have turned to static, and his vision is quickly growing dark. Starting at his fingertips, his arm begins to go numb. The numbness gradually crawls deeper and further into his body, until he knows no more.

The spirit of the cave, the demon, the entity, whatever it is...it sapped into him through his misery. Through his loneliness. Through his pain. His pain has made him vulnerable for possession, and the demon plans to take full advantage of this.

The possession begins at the fingertips, its demonic wispy presence infecting him from the hand up. By the time its control has reached all the way to Merlin's face, it has enough strength to surge Merlin's body forward while Merlin himself is unconscious.

The half of Merlin's face that is still free from possession remains slack and unaware, but the half that has fallen into the demon's clutches is alight with a grin. It pushes Merlin's hand into Arthur's chest and gives a powerful shove.

As Arthur falls from the cliff, he doesn't have time to notice how Merlin's normally blue eyes have turned a sickly green, nor to notice the jaundiced hue pervading his friend's flesh, nor the spectral mist clouding all around Merlin's body in a haze.

No. As Arthur falls, as Arthur crashes into the ground and feels a stalagmite rip into his chest, all he sees is the half of his friend's face that has been contorted into a demonic smile.

Meanwhile, Gwen and Kilgharrah's path led them down a different part of the cave, and eventually they reach the bottom of a deep chasm filled with stalagmites.

Gwen spots Arthur at the top of a nearby cliff and waves up to him, but her excitement is short-lived as she watches him fall. Watches a stalagmite pierce his chest. Watches blood splatter everywhere.

It is said that if someone wishes for something passionately and profoundly enough as they die, then their dying wish might be granted. In this case, Arthur wishes more than anything for Gwen not to see him die. To not remember this. To just forget.

His wish is granted, and Gwen faints from the sheer force of his dying wish turning all her thoughts into static.

Kilgharrah sees the demon at the top of the cliff. Sees the wretched beast puppeteering Merlin's flesh, and snarls.. How dare that horrible thing possess one of his humans!

You see, Kilgharrah is no ordinary lizard. But rather, a very ancient and very powerful dragon masquerading as such, tasked with the protection of Gwen's lineage - the reasons for which only he is old enough to know or remember.

But while he is supposed to look after just Gwen, he has taken quite a liking to her friends as well. All three of them are under his protection, and it would be a disgrace to let this pitiful demon steal Merlin away under his watch.

So Kilgharrah unfurls from his false lizard form and embraces his true form - that of a massive dragon - and does whatever he can to purge the demon from Merlin's vessel.

Unfortunately, there's only one thing he can do. Since the demon has so vehemently lodged itself in Merlin's arm, quickly spreading out through the rest of his body, Kilgharrah has only one option left to stop the demonic infection.

Hating himself for it all the while, Kilgharrah bites off Merlin's arm.

A day later, Gwen wakes up in the hospital. Not only can she not remember watching Arthur die, but she can't remember anything to do with Arthur at all. She wakes up in the hospital with no recollection of how she got there, her pet lizard a blood-spattered coil on her lap, and with everyone telling her that her best friend Merlin is in surgery.

When Merlin wakes up, he also has no recollection of what happened to Arthur. He remembers going into the cave, splitting up...but everything goes blank after that. He doesn't know where Arthur is. Doesn't know what happened to his arm.

And he certainly doesn't know why he has become so debilitatingly afraid of Kilgharrah. Kilgharrah, who is by all accounts an ordinary lizard, but in Merlin's dreams transforms into a massive beast with bloody teeth.

Gwen gets a glazed look in her eyes and suffers horrible migraines whenever anyone mentions Arthur, so Merlin eventually gives up trying to remind her. Her memory problems have made her a lot more...scatter-brained, and although Merlin gets easily spooked he's willing to go to a thousand seances if it'll help Gwen act like her old self again.

He also tries to go back to the cave, but it has mysteriously vanished from where he knows it was meant to be. Gwen says that if a place is haunted by something powerful enough, it can change its own location, or can make it so that it will only be found if it wants to be found.

But Merlin refuses to give up. He uses the spare parts lying around his uncle's shop and builds himself a mechanical prosthetic, and loses himself in a never-ending quest to find his friend, to figure out what happened to his arm, and to find a way to restore Gwen's memories.

When Arthur wakes up, he discovers he has turned into one of the same ghosts he and his friends used to hunt. He looks down and sees his body, bloody and broken and cold as it lays impaled on a stalagmite. He can't look at it for long without feeling sick.

He also feels angry. Very, very angry. While his death had happened fast, too fast, he can clearly remember Merlin pushing him. Merlin, who he thought was his best friend. Merlin, who he grew up with. Merlin, who has always been there for him.

Surging with betrayal and fury, Arthur's now spectral body floats out of the cave. He has only one objective on his mind: vengeance.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Lavender Fields

genre: wlw, supernatural

words: 18k

summary: There’s a phantom in the lavender fields.

In the wild lavender fields outside a small rural village is a strange figure that appears and disappears at random. Elodie has moved back in with her family, expecting to lose herself in mundane life there, and instead finds the mystery of a shadow figure she keeps communicating with.

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Water sloshed against Elodie’s sleeves as she fastidiously scrubbed a pan, it was a large cast iron skillet that barely fit in the sink and had last night’s pork loin stuck firmly to the bottom. A frown split Elodie’s face in two as she rubbed at the grease.

The sleeves of her blue blouse were kissing the water and soaking through, but she refused to acknowledge it.

“You’re doing it wrong,” a voice snapped at her from across the room. “Elodie, what is that even?” “Doing the dishes,” she didn’t look up, “like you asked.” “Yes, the dishes. Dishes from last night,” her sister loomed closer, “you’re just rubbing the grease around in circles! Use the iron wool.” Elodie grit her teeth, “it’s fine, it’s fine. It’s getting done.” She soapy water splashed down her wrists and she scrubbed harder. Her sister went quiet- a sign her brewing thoughts were slowly rising to the surface. “Were you even in last night?” She grit her teeth harder, “obviously.” “Tch,” her sister clicked her tongue, Elodie could already feel her shaking her head darkly behind her. “At what hour?” Elodie sighed belligerently, hot air escaping her lungs. “Can I just finish this?” She snorted, “it doesn’t look like you can.” Her sister said, this time with a teasing edge to her word. “Look, you’re just rubbing it around in circles!” She repeated.

“It’s fine!” She turned indignantly on her heels, “Lea.” She said tartly, “I need you to,” she searched the air wildly for the right phrasing. Then she closed her mouth again.

Lea, with her full lips and generous figure, just smiled mildly, “do your chores for you?” She gave a small laugh, “honestly, nothing has changed since we were kids.” Elodie could have growled, but a series of fast footsteps pattered up the back steps before they could continue, “Aunt Elodie!” A voice squawked, “Aunt Elodie!”

Elodie and Lea paused and trained their faces back into something amiable and not “trying to bite each other’s heads off” expressions.

“Samuel?”

A young boy crashed into the back door, making the blinds rattle and his sweaty red face plunged into view. He was breathing hard and his striped shirt was streaked with mud. “She’s back!” He said sharply, his eyes wide with something.

Elodie dropped the sponge she was holding and wiped her hands down on her jeans, “are you sure?” He nodded hard and fast. Lea put her hands on her hips, “are you two on about this again?”

“Come on,” he gestured fiercely with his small hands, waving back and forth, “before it-” “Aunt Elodie!” Another voice joined them, this one wheezing and strained. “She’s here, she’s,” gasp, “here.” “Margot!” Lea threw her hands in the air, “your asthma, what are you thinking?”

Little Margot just gave a pained breath and waved her hands back and forth like a sailor stranded at sea, “we saw,” gasp,“her.” Elodie furrowed her brow, but Samuel was grabbing her hand, “do it again, do the trick.”

Elodie looked between her sister and her niece as Lea got out the little girl’s inhaler and gave it a good shake. Lea shot Elodie a prickly look: you’re the one that’s excited them like this.

Elodie let herself be dragged away as Samuel tugged at her with all his might, “Aunt Elodie, you have to that thing again.” “Mama,” Margot struggled in her mom’s arms, “I want to see Aunt and the phantom!”

“Hush.”

They left the little girl and her mother and stumbled out the white steps of the little house into the fierce white sunlight, piercing and bleaching across their skin. Elodie wrinkled her nose, “are you sure?” She looked up at the empty fields, the sun wasn’t even halfway across the sky yet.

Samuel gave her a huge toothy grin with two front teeth missing and started running. “Follow me!” Elodie had no choice but to jog barefoot across the scraggly grass after him. It was a softly sleepy morning with a quiet dirt road to her right and fields and fields to her left. The village itself was only two kilometers away, but with the thick oak trees and oceans of yellow grasses it often felt like they were alone out there.

Rolling hills hit small dwellings in the distance and further out were foggy blue mountains that threatened you with their teeth and hollow voices- jagged craggy outlines on the horizon. It always seemed too quiet out there for her, but Elodie liked the watercolor yellows and blues of it and the way everything felt boundless and unknown.

They walked until they came to a shallow swampy lake that was really only a lake in name and more of a soggy puddle by then. They stopped and Samuel pointed out.

A smooth, sweet scent overwhelmed them on the breeze.

Dotting the small hill were purple clumps that crowded out the yellow grasses in haphazard rolling waves of vivid color. They were chunky lavender plants that had flown away from the larger plantations and took root all on their own. Acres and acres of blooming purple flowers spread out before them.

Elodie blinked a couple times, and Samuel looked left and then right.

“Is she…?” Elodie breathed and took a few steps toward the wild lavender field. At the base of a gentle hill two kids popped up and waved at them.

“Claire!” Samuel called, “Louise, where’d she go?” The two kids were grubby, one red-haired and covered in scrapes, and the other one with brown hair that went in every which direction. They must have been around Samuel’s age, seven or eight.

Elodie readied her “nice older relative” smile and then her body froze, Louise was pointing at the top of the hill. And there she was.

Elodie’s hands fell uselessly to her side and a sensation hit her like cold water being splashed down the back of her neck. “Oh.”

Samuel started listing off when the shadow had showed up and how they had thrown salt at her and nothing happened (again). Elodie just started to walk straight ahead, “I’ll handle it.” The phantom was pale, and whispery. She had the trappings of a person: long white-blonde hair, a silvery blue dress, and a pair of smudgy pink slippers on her feet. But she moved in a way that only things from dreams could move, bonelessly, careless.

She was a shimmering fish in the water or pliant white grocery bag caught in the wind. Sometimes when she turned Elodie swore she saw a flash of light or a dark gash in the air itself around her. She was bizarre to look directly at, like a brewing headache or a sunburn working its way through your vision. Wrong.

Elodie made her way warily upward. The sun glinted into her eyes and the figure swayed in place.

“Is your aunt going to do the thing?” The little girl asked Samuel excitably and Elodie realized they were trooping like ducklings behind her.

“Wait,” Elodie stuck her hand out. “You all wait here.” Three sets of large eyes blinked back at her, and Elodie mustered a reassuring smile. “She only likes me, remember?” More blinks. “Just,” she flinched, “stay right here.”

Her smile faded as Elodie turned to face the shifting phantom in the lavender fields, she heard rustling behind her, but Samuel piped up. “We have to stay here!” He asserted shrilly and kept his friends in place as Elodie made her way up, up, and up.

She focused her eyes on the pale figure ahead, she was a slip of a woman with spindly limbs and glowing blue veins along her thin wrists. Her back was turned to Elodie, as it always was, and her loose dress fluttered behind her fitfully.

“Hey,” Elodie stopped several paces behind her back. “Are you lost, ma’am?”

It took a moment, a pause in time that whipped around them like a stuttering heartbeat. She turned in place, and space shifted around her in unnatural shadows and bits of stray light.

Her eyes were wide frightened things, like moonless nights or dark pools of water. She had a small mouth and a crooked nose that was snug on her narrow face. Her cheeks were indented and skin almost chalky. Sometimes Elodie would look at her and think: of course this is an unnatural anomaly in the world of things. Sometimes she would look at her and think other things.

The ghostly figure parted her small pink mouth and stood up straight, her whole body shifting oddly in place and thick eyebrows twisting upward. “Hello?” Her voice was misty and muffled, like speaking through a piece of gauze, but it was touched with inflection and worry, a pitched girlishness. Human.

Elodie reached her hand out, “Ma’am” She stared steadily into her face, “are you lost?” The girl opened and closed her mouth, Elodie put her hand out, “I can take you home.”

The girl glanced at Elodie’s outstretched hand and then back to her face. “I can’t.”

And then there was a fading, a slow sunset, a dimming of an old lamp, and scattering of color in all directions. Something was sucked from her, and then there was nothing at all.

Elodie swallowed thickly and let her hand fall to her side, “of course.”

“Woah!”

“Oh my Gosh!” “Samuel, Sam, what did your aunt just do?”

And it was like it always was. The girl, the phantom, disappeared.

------------- There was a coolness touching the land by dinner time, a breeze that snaked in between the trees and had them propping open all the windows and exhaling gladly.

Elodie had been sweating behind her knees for hours by then, and it was nice to sit by the window and let the twilight sink into her. They put out iced sodas and the kids banged around upstairs as they tried to get the dog to jump through a hoop for them.

Elodie closed her eyes and took deep breaths, Carl would hate this. She smiled sadly to herself, or love it like a fool.

She was considering this when more footsteps came through the door, Elodie peaked her eyes open to see her sister: long green dress, plump waist, and black hair tied up in a bun. Her eyes were glimmering shards that caught the light as she took people apart with them.

“So,” she cleared her throat, “you entertained the kids for a bit.”

Elodie rolled her eyes, “it’s… nothing.” Lea winced slightly, “give them nightmares with that ghost talk.” Elodie looked away, “phantom.” She corrected absently, “and you’ve seen her before too.” They all had. “I’ve seen a person wandering around the lavender fields,” she said dismissively, “nothing new.” Elodie just sighed, you haven’t seen her disappear though. Elodie frowned, and reappear.

“I’ll try not to scare them,” Elodie reassured as she rested her head back and stared at the ceiling, “besides,” she gave a shrewd smile that shone like a new coin. “They know I can handle any phantom out there anyway.” She flexed one arm to show off the muscles. Lea rolled her eyes, “I did the dishes tonight you know.” Elodie wiggled her toes in the carpet, “thanks.” She sniffed loudly, “and if you go out tonight-” “Look, it’s not like-” “Don’t leave your bottles in plain sight like some sort of vagrant slob.” They exchanged a sharp, angular look, like they did as kids before they tried to wrestle the other one to the floor and smush her face into the dusty carpet. Elodie drew a deep breath, “you’re one to talk…” The storm was brewing. “When’s the last time you even left the property?”

“I don’t know, when’s the last time you did your laundry?” They glared.

A soft cough came from the nearby doorway.

“Girls,” a voice wheezed, “girls, no fighting in the house.” “Mom,” Elodie sat up completely straight and Lea whipped around.

“We thought you were asleep already.” Lea’s eyes were huge and fixed on the darkened doorway as a figure hobbled through the arch and stared at them through crusted eyes.

A tiny woman stood there in her nightgown, hunched over and with withered hands and deep grooves in her skin like gnarled tree bark. She blinked at them unseeingly.

“Mom?” Elodie was the first to get to her feet, “mom, how’re you feeling?” The woman turned to her and gave a dry cough, “don’t let it touch you.” She said with a sneer, “never let it touch you.” Elodie took a few rapid steps toward her, “let what touch me?” She reached to take one of her shaking hands.

Their mom simply tilted her chin up and her expression softened, “Daniel?” She asked weakly, “Daniel, I don’t want to take a bath right now.” Elodie took a deep heavy breath and she could feel Lea untensing behind her. “Come on mom,” Lea strode over to take her other hand, “let’s get you back to bed.” The sister’s gently guided their aged mother back to her castle of pillows and large bed where her monitors blinked and a note lay on the bedside table from the day nurse: Evelyne was a little foggy today, but nothing to worry about! She took her night meds and booster. I’ll see you both in the morning.- Love Tina.

Elodie didn’t look at her sister as they eased their mom back into bed and sat around her in a small circle until her breathing evened out.

Lea flattened her skirts down, and she kept glancing at Elodie. Maybe she feels bad about what she said, Elodie pondered, though of course Lea would never admit it.

“I’m going to go put the kids to bed.” Lea finally said offhandedly. “Tell me if mom stirs again while you’re down here.” “Of course.” They parted ways and their mother seemed to fall into a deep slumber. Elodie prepared to go out for the night.

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

Contrary to her family's belief Elodie did not walk all the way into town to spend her nights at the bars making idle chit-chat with strangers and sometimes allowing them to take her home. In fact, contrary to her family’s belief Elodie did not even go into town at all most nights.

That would involve transport, and money, and making sure her wallet was still on her by sunrise. She did not go into town.

Elodie swayed back and forth as she walked along a dirt path, “ladybug, ladybug,” she sang to herself, gently, “fly away home,” she took a deep sip out of her canister that smelled of fresh sharpies and what holy water must be to demons. “Your house is on fire and your children are gone!” The kids at Elodie’s first job taught her that song, back when she thought she would travel the world as an au pair. They had sung it to her in delight as they jumped rope and pointed at bugs to her on the lawn.

Elodie smiled at the memory, and then took another swig of vodka.

“Ladybug, ladybug,” she did a spin in the dirt and her senses blurred together like a kaleidoscope. It was better at night like this, the battery acid running through her veins and not having to be cooped up in her bed, waiting. “Fly away home!”

She hiccuped and kept walking, she never chose a real direction, just walked until she couldn’t feel her teeth and the burn in her muscles pierced through all the groggy alcohol in her system.

“Lea thinks,” she snorted to herself, “pfft. Bars are for,” she hiccuped, “bars are for,” she stumbled away, away, away, under a canopy of trees and toward the chirping crickets. The first thing she discovered out here was that the countryside just kept going. It drew a deep breath and it’s emptiness only seemed to expand. “Bars… are not.” She swayed and sipped until the bottle was nearing it’s halfway point, and then she stumbled to the ground and in a blip she was flat on her stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment. The grass was soft and damp against her cheek and she heard a voice in her head: this again, my love?

“Alright,” Elodie shook herself, “can’t let Lea win. No Lea win.” She pushed herself upright and staggered into the soggy light of the pale white moon. And then she blinked and there was the smell as full and striking as a cold glass of water on a hot day.

Lavender, soft and fragrant hit her across the face, Elodie dropped her bottle and made her way toward the scent. This was usually when she turned around, satisfied with her attempts to get absolutely smashed, and walked home.

“The fields…” She mumbled, the wild lavender spread in all directions, huge and expansive, it was lit by the dripping white half-moon and endless purple patches rolled into the silent treeline. The sight ballooned in her chest like an affectionate caress to the cheek. She stumbled further out into the fields and tried to yank out her phone from her pocket.

It took her a good minute to open the camera app, she hiccuped slightly. “Who’s shtupid now, Lea?” She rasped and drew her phone up to take what she assumed would be a perfect vision of a photograph in the morning. “Gonna be… gor-goush.”

She snapped, once, twice, and then tapped on it to see the results. Her eyes went huge. There was a pale glowing figure in the middle of the fields, in the middle of the image itself. Elodie jerked her head up and a young woman was standing before her, head tilted to the side and eyes vacant.

“Phantom,” Elodie swallowed thickly, nerves jangling together as the girl glowed eerily in front of her. It was one thing to find her during the day, but another thing to run into her completely alone in the deep of the night. “I,” she took a stiff step backward, “I didn’t know you… you could come at thish time too.” She said lamely, her words slurring together and world tilting sideways slightly as she stared too long at the figure. The phantom furrowed her brow together, “hello?” She said in her small, muted voice, flighty and baseless. Elodie studied the phantom’s face, empty and tense all at once.

She took a deep breath, remembering herself. “Are you lost, ma’am?” She asked gently, fighting against the self-inflicted fog in her head.

The girl paused in place and for the first time she met Elodie’s eyes, honing in and seeking her out, every hair on Elodie’s arms stood up. Her heart pulsed faster and she pinched lips together, “are you lost, ma’am?” She repeated the words passed from children to children to tell the phantom, to return her to where she came from and away from the fields.

The girl’s dark eyes continued to focus carefully, had she always been so close? And then the girl drew a deep breath, “are you?”

Elodie’s mouth fell open, what? She knew the script sometimes shifted, that the words and places and times all fluctuated. But this was different. Elodie was held there by something that felt like it could see her, witness her drinking herself into oblivion in empty fields.

“You should turn back.” The phantom said flatly, voice echoing in her skull and flavoring her thoughts. “Or you’ll be lost too…”

And then she began to turn, her whole body rotating in places and the light and shadows morphing unnaturally around her- twisting and convulsing. Her image flickered gently and eyes dragged over Elodie one last time before she began to evaporate.

“Wait!” Elodie scrambled to reach for her, her battered mind pushing on her to move, to act. “Wait, who- who-” Elodie grabbed for the figure, for something, she thrust her hand into the mist just as the image was dispersing. A pain like ice so cold it burned ran up her arm and blazed with a fiery vengeance, pinpricks that lit up every nerve.

“Ah!” A bloody scream was ripped from her vocal chords and tears sprang to her eyes.

But the figure waited, her eyes similarly huge and something like anguish contorting across her thin features. “Hello?” She asked, voice clear and silver- singing and bright against the dark air.

Elodie toppled to the ground and crushed her left hand to her chest as if to protect it. The second she let go of her the pain fizzled out and fled from her mind like walking into a room and forgetting what you went in there for.

She hyperventilated and looked straight ahead at the lavender plants, “oh.” The girl’s voice said from far above. “Aren’t you strange.”

Elodie tried to look up again, but her vision started spotting black and her eyes rolled back into her head.

The world was wordlessly extinguished.

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

Elodie woke with a pounding in her head and the taste of fertilizer in her mouth like it was trying to plant it’s own community garden on her tongue. She lapped at the roof of her mouth and tried to turn over in place and block out the searing on her eyelids and throbbing between her ears.

“Mamaaaa!” A voice whined, “Mama, here, here. I found her.” Oh no, Elodie jerked upright and her entire body recoiled from the sudden movement. “Oh God,” she cradled her head in her hands and curled up on the sodden earth.

“Aunt Eli,” someone poked her shoulder, “it’s time to wake up now.” Elodie cracked her eyes open and pushed through the commotion in her frontal lobe. Don’t be a baby, she chided herself and forced her arms out, unbending her legs with a deep groan that vibrated through her bones.

Her niece poked her again, “you smell bad.” Elodie squinted at Margot in her wide sunhat and neat overalls. She opened her mouth to respond but was overcome with a wave of nausea. This wasn’t how she usually liked to spend her mornings, she usually glugged a lot more water before she passing out most nights.

And it wasn’t usually on the ground.

“Elodie,” she heard her name called across the way, it wasn’t loud or even very sharp. It was however low and silky in a way that crawled across your spine and held your soul hostage.

Elodie swallowed thickly, her tongue a tangible piece of rotten fruit in her mouth. She lurched forward and forced her legs under her to try and stand.

“You need a bath,” Margot repeated as she looked up at her with morning-glory blue eyes.

“I do,” she said with a mustered shallow smile, and then her sister was beside her.

“Elodie,” she repeated her name in the same dark way. Elodie refused to look at her, Lea patted Margot’s head. “Thank you for finding your aunt, Margot, now run along.” Elodie’s shoulders pinched together and her head pounded like a construction sight. Ugh, Carl would be saying “I told you so” right now. “Okay,” Margot took Elodie’s hand instead and tugged her towards the house, “but Aunt needs to clean up first.”

Elodie exhaled through her nose and was grateful she wouldn’t have to be alone with Lea just yet. Lea saddled up next to her and her arm in an iron grip. She whispered into her ear, controlled and even. “I know you’re still processing everything,” she hissed, “but what the hell are you doing?” Elodie hung her head and looked at her worn shoes, covered and dust and flower petals. She knew how this looked.

Divorcee can’t handle her shit and walks away drunk and hopeless into the forest. She sighed as her sister dug her nails into her flesh.

I met a phantom Lea. And she said something new. Elodie didn’t say that either.

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

“I knew the drinking was getting bad,” Lea walked back and forth across the kitchen, angrily picking up a stray dishware or washcloth and then putting it down again. “But this was just absurd!” Elodie looked miserably down at her lap as she cradled a cool glass of water in her hands, the sun glinted low and somber off in the distance. She had almost slept the whole day away when she got home. And now this. “I know, Lea.”

“Absurd! You hear me?”

“Yes,” Elodie bunched up into herself, the kids were still out playing and Lea and Elodie’s mother was buried deep inside her own head off in her room. “I know.” “You know?” Lea fumed, “You know how this looks to my kids then? What I have to explain to them?” Elodie flinched and looked away, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Lea took a deep breath in through her nose, put her washrag down, and flattened her skirts. “Elodie,” she said in a composed tone, “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks…” Elodie’s eyes sunk low, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I know how this looks.” “Do you?” “I can,” she swallowed thickly and her eyes stung, “I can get my things-” “No,” Lea shook her head, “I’m angry,” she tutted, “not heartless.” Elodie pinched her lips together and took another deep sip of her water, her skull was still shaking with a fragile headache. Usually she handled this better, usually she kept her shit to herself.

“Elodie,” Lea continued when Elodie didn’t respond. “I’m worried about you.” She closed the distance between them and leaned over her younger sister. “Listen,” she said softly, “I know Carl leaving will take… time to process.” All the muscles in her body tensed up, “I’m processing, I’m processing,” she said quickly, “this was just… nothing. It was something weird.”

Lea bent over and looked her directly in the eyes.

“You’re stronger than this,” she rubbed her shoulder, “I’ll tell the kids you’re sleeping walking again. Like when we were kids.” Elodie just nodded back, “and then I’m taking your stash. No more booze in this house.”

“What?” Elodie’s brow folded neatly inward, “that’s not yours to take! It’s my money, my things.”

Lea wiggled a finger back and forth, “it’s my house.” She said carefully, “and I think you should try sleeping the normal way.” She snorted, “you might like it.” Elodie jumped to her feet, “you think I do it for fun?” She growled, “that I just… just drink myself silly and exhaust myself like that for a good time?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “you always did things for the thrill of it. Wasn’t that how you married Carl in the first place?” “I,” Elodie set her glass of water down and bunched her fists up, they looked at each other across the way, heated and taut. Something simmered just beneath the surface. “I’m going for a walk.” She whipped around on her heels and stomped toward the door.

“Don’t you dare drink while you’re out there!”

“Lea, I see this with all sisterly sincerity,” she called over her shoulder, seeing red, “get stuffed.”

Elodie was halfway toward the door when she saw a shadow looming by the stairs, “ah!” She jumped violently as a bony hand reached out and a cough followed. Elodie clutched her chest, “mom!”

The old woman shuffled closer with her walker and stared ahead, “Danny.” “I, uh, Lea and I didn’t mean it...” she whispered, mostly for her own sake and not for her mother’s ears. “You let her,” she clucked and shook her head, “you shouldn’t have let her.”

Elodie frowned loudly, “please, mama,” she tried to guide her, “let’s get you back to your room.” Elodie grabbed for her hand. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me,” Her mother drew back as if burned, “fool. You already let her.”

Elodie stood their uselessly, all the energy in the world sapped out of her. “Fine.” She spat, “Go to Lea then.” She flung the front door open before jogging toward the end of the property. She could have screamed.

For a moment, just a moment, she thought the phantom was there, glimmering in the evening sun and a shadow of the great trees. Waiting for her.

But then it was just her, alone, swallowing down the frustrated wails and cursing herself.

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

Elodie was awake. Her eyes were itching and the night was heavier and larger than it had ever been around her. It was the second night awake, the first was nothing but a smear and a few lost hours, this one was sharp and ugly.

It stretched and prowled and a pain buzzed behind her eyeballs. She blinked slowly, and often, something wiggled and clenched in her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she pressed a hand to the back of her neck, it wasn’t. Even if they all warned me it would be.

She heard a soft knock at the door, Elodie considered pretending to be out. Pretending to be gone and passed out in the lavender fields for good this time.

Another knock came to the door.

“Yes?” She croaked with a voice swollen from crying.

“Aunt Elodie,” a voice piped up, “we brought you this.” Elodie oozed across the floor and to the door, she tugged it open and checked the hallway left and right before sticking her head out. “Ah,” she said with a small smile, “disobeying the law I see. Small fugitives.” Margot gave a laugh behind her little hands and Samuel grinned widely, “it’s not much.” He shoved a plate at her, “but mom said we could put it aside for you.” Elodie snorted, “warden approved. I accept.” They laughed together and Elodie took her plate from them, “thank you, I’ll give you piggyback rides or something tomorrow.”

Samuel smiled, “we’re too old for that auntie.” He said briskly, “but you could come out to the fields again. Mama says you can.” Elodie looked away blankly toward the wall, “I don’t think… I don’t think the fields would be a good place for me right now.”

“But she’s there,” Margot piped up, “she keeps showing up- like, pop, pop, pop.”

“I’m sure,” Elodie said faintly.

“What if she pops here?” Margot made a face, “she could… eat us. Like the stories.” Elodie just shook her head, “don’t worry.” She rubbed the little girl’s head, “we’re safe. She stays in the fields.” Samuel and Margot just exchanged a look and then Samuel tilted his head, “could you do the trick again?” Elodie took a step back, “I’ll have to do my phantom trick some other time.” She said plainly, “I need some rest for now.” “But-” “I’m sorry, little ones, thank you for my illegal treat.” She closed the door and they both groaned.

“She’s being no fun.” “Can the phantom really not get us here?” “Of course.”

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

It was the second night Elodie had decided to “retire” to her room for awhile. She hadn’t seen her mom or her sister in that time, she had mostly studied the scenery out her window and the screen of her phone. She hadn’t slept at all.

Elodie leaned on her windowsill and spilled her eyes over the dark night, this was supposed to fix things. Her shoulders fell, it was all supposed to fix it.

She came to the countryside to “recover” herself, but nothing was ever that easy.

The night hours dragged on and toiled away, sometimes she considered sleeping, but any time she lay down the thoughts tumbled around her in a hungry avalanche. You’re the reason, you’re the reason, you ruin everything around you.

Elodie sat back up again and busied herself with the view outside and endless buzzfeed quizzes online. This used to be easier.

And that’s when she peered into the night and her breath caught in her throat: “you.” She swore and then was on her feet, “you!” She shoved on a pair of sneakers and dashed down the dark stairs by feel alone.

She tried to quietly burst into the night and cross the long grasses that tickled her calves.

“You!” She pointed at a trim woman lost in the moonlight, “you did something.” The woman cocked her head to the side and swayed in place, “hello?”

“Ugh!” Elodie threw her hands up, “of course. Of course I’m just going crazy.”

“Hello?” Elodie strode up right toward her face, “you’re a real problem here you know. Don’t give me that look.” She snapped to make herself feel better. The phantom looked Elodie up and down, “were you the one drinking so much the other night?” Elodie froze, her thoughts grinding to a halt with a jarring lurch. She looked back at the phantom who moved so strangely and disappeared at will. “Excuse me?” “You were drunk,” she said bluntly, “slurring your words.” Elodie’s mouth hung open, “you… you, saw that? Or uh, understood it?” “Of course,” a faint smile played across her lips, “how could I miss it?” Her voice was somehow clearer, grounded in something.

Elodie ran a hand through her short hair, trying to process a spirit-being speaking so lucidly. “This is… different.” “I mean, I’m sure plenty of people do it. Maybe not so much though,” The phantom said, and blinked a couple times. “Why were you drinking so much?” “I got a divorce,” Elodie suddenly felt the need to defend herself, “and I have... trouble sleeping.” “That’s too bad,” the young woman lifted her face toward the scattered moonlight, “Sleep is hard sometimes.” Her strange face morphed into confusion, nose wrinkling and lips tugging down. “I think… I think it was.” “Are you,” Elodie searched the air, “who are you?” “Oh.” The woman looked back, “I’m Romy.” She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “that’s what I’ve been calling myself.” Elodie’s mouth was still open, “do you know where you are?” The woman, Romy, hummed deeply. “I’m here of course. What’s your name?” She asked, eyes glowing in the night.

“Elodie,” she responded carefully, “Elodie Paquet.”

“Ah,” the phantom spoke softly. “I knew that.” Elodie’s eyes went wide, “what are you doing here?” Romy shimmered and wobbled in place, her entire form wavering. “I think I knew once.” She took a step back and the shadows and lights morphed around her, “but… I’ve forgotten.” “Romy,” she said in a strained tone, “do you know what’s happening? Where… where are you from?” Romy’s turned her face toward the east, “you should go inside.” “What?” “You’re the reason I’m allowed here,” Romy spoke flatly, “but I think…” she frowned, “yes, go in.” “No,” Elodie took a step toward her, “what did you do to my hand last night? What was that?” Romy’s eyes flicked down, “you tell me.” Elodie glanced down and her whole head spun, her hand was… wrong. It was shifting among the light, the shadows hugged it and something twisted strangely around the digits.

“What did you-” “AAHHH!” A scream came from within the house.

Romy started to flicker away, “I told you.”

“No!” Elodie whipped around and sprinted back toward the house, dread flushed through her system and thoughts racing: evil ghost, demon creatures, phantom devils. She had brought this.

“Hello?!” She yelled through the front door and Lea was already bustling down the stairs and headed toward the corner room on the first floor.

“Mama,” Lea dashed forward with Elodie hot on her heels.

Their mother was yelling, clutching her sheets and crying out louder than she had been able to in years. “The dead, the dead,” her chest heaved, “the dead are here.”

The two sister’s tried to calm the old woman down just Elodie’s heart pounded in her chest: Carl, what have I brought on us?

Their mother said little else before disappearing again into a troubled sleep.

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

Elodie flipped over a hot pancake on the griddle, it splattered across her hand and the counter. She hissed through her teeth. “Dammit,” she moved the pancake around and then wiped up the drips.

She sprinkled in blueberries to the batter and poured five glasses of orange juice into their cracked mugs and one good crystal glass. She placed a flower from the garden in the center of the table.

It had been a long night.

“Pancakes!” She heard a squeal from the kitchen doorway.

Elodie smiled over her shoulder, “Good morning, little bug.” Margot clapped her hands together, “I want whip cream with mine.” “Of course.” She called for Samuel to come down and help her set the table. Elodie turned away from the kitchen entrance when a heavier set of steps arrived.

“You’re up early.” Lea commented dryly from behind her. I never went to sleep.

“I hope you don’t mind Lea,” she said softly, “I used all of the eggs.”

A sigh followed, “you’re dealing with them when they’re on a sugar high.” Elodie smiled over her shoulder, but the expression pinched as she saw the shadows under her sister’s eyes. “Should we…” Elodie hesitated, “should I make some for mom?” Lea didn’t even twitch, “of course.” She humphed, “but first we’ll let her sleep a little longer.” “Was grandma scared last night?” Margot ran around her mother’s skirts. “Will she be alright?” Lea herded her daughter toward the table, “she had bad dreams.” Elodie turned back to her pancakes, scowling at the fluffy, browning results. They had agreed it was night terrors, something the whole family was prone to. But… Elodie flipped the pancake onto her growing plates.

But Elodie had been there. Elodie had been talking to something that was surely not

Church-sanctioned or physics approved. And then her mother had briefly lost it.

She placed the syrup on the table and Margot cheered as she got the first two helpings of food.

“Samuel!” Lea called upstairs, “we’re sitting down.” The little boy joined them just as Elodie placed all the plates in a circle and Grandma Evelyne still hadn’t appeared yet. Lea hadn’t gone to wake her, even as they set the fifth place.

Night terrors… Guilt panged deep in Elodie’s chest and she gripped the children’s hands tightly.

“Lord, thank you for the meal.” Lea said firmly and Elodie squeezed her eyes shut and made a prayer that slipped away just as quickly as she formed it.

It was hard to form prayers around ghost girls and the strange stomach-churning movement around her left hand last night. Please, she tried again with her head bowed, let this all pass.

They let go quickly to start eating and Lea didn’t look up as she spoke, “and Elodie?” She said evenly.

“Yes?” Elodie hunched her shoulders, preparing herself for the next confrontation.

“Could you go get groceries after breakfast?” She asked perfectly calmly, “we’re out of eggs now.” Elodie just smiled unevenly, “yes.” They didn’t address the night before, just as their mother slept through breakfast.

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

Elodie held her bike helmet in hand and wheeled her bike along the dirt path. Normally, she would ride into town with her cheeks flushed and legs pumping.

However, the front tire was low on air and the morning sun wasn’t too hot yet for a slow walk and a little time alone time with her sluggish thoughts. She studied the tree branches overhead and waved lazily at the one blue truck that passed her along the way.

The air was sweet and bird songs criss-crossed overhead as she moved slowly toward the nearest grocery store.

Elodie kicked stones as she wheeled her bike along. “What would you say, Carl?” She asked her shoelaces and then tipped her head all the way back to let the sky settle over her face. “An idiot. Yeah. I know.” Her shoulders slumped down and hoped she brought enough cash for bonbons for the kids when she finally got there.

“Who’s Carl?” Elodie nearly jumped entirely out of her skin as a voice addressed her, “ack!” She cursed and looked back and forth so quickly it felt like her eyes might fall out. “Here.” Elodie’s entire face went slack and she stopped in place. There was a frail girl standing next to the trees just beside Elodie, she wore the same pale blue dress and distant expression. Elodie glanced toward the morning light and then the ghostly girl.

She opened her mouth and then closed it open. Romy.

Her face folded into a threat, “what the hell did you do to me last night?” Romy picked her way closer to Elodie on the path, “nothing.” She said simply. “What are you doing now?” Elodie threw one hand up, “what did you do to my mom?” “Nothing,” she repeated, “her mind is just… Adrift. She’s open.” “And does that even mean?” Elodie was about to strangle a ghost.

“She’s okay now, yeah?” Genuine concern seemed to ring through the girl’s tone. “She just remembered.” “What does, ugh,” Elodie groaned, “I can’t believe I’m trying to get reason out of a ghost.” “Is that what you think of me? Huh.” Elodie spoke softly and then turned up the road. “Will you take me to town?” “So you can haunt more people?” She shook her head with forlorn.

Romy spun in place, “I don’t think that will happen again.” She leaned toward the bike, “take me to town?” “No.” Elodie took a step back, “go back… go back to where you come from.” “I don’t want to.”

Elodie ran a free hand through her hair and tugged, “you come here to fight or something?”

Romy gave a loose chuckle, “not really.” She watched Elodie closely, “who’s Carl?” “Oh my God,” Elodie started walking, “don’t follow me.” “Are those your kids from before?” “You stay away from them!” “Wait,” Romy chased after her, “no. They’re… the other ones.” Elodie made a strangled noise, “you know I can’t touch you, but… I will start singing. Badly. Or I’ll scream.” Romy tipped back and forth on the balls of her feet, “I’ll scream with you if you like.” Elodie wrinkled her nose, “fine. You know what?” She walked faster, “Maybe I was going to try and help you before. But now that’s definitely not going to happen.” “You were not,” Romy smiled blithely. “Thank you though. Things were… blurry before.” Elodie slowed down at that, her bike wheels rolled to a stop. “Blurry?” She wrinkled her brow, “where do you usually go?” “Nowhere.” Romy studied Elodie’s face. “Do you have any food?” Elodie’s eyebrows rose, “can you eat?” Romy smiled simply, “just as much as you can.” “This is so weird,” Elodie lamented. “My life is punishment for everything else I did.” Romy tittered, “oh, it wasn’t that bad.” “Did we,” Elodie struggled, beginning to walk toward the village again, this time more slowly. “Did you, uh, absorb me I guess? When I touched you?” “No,” Romy laughed again, “do you want to be absorbed?” Elodie scuffed her shoes across the dirt and hung her head, “I mean, sometimes.”

“You are,” she hummed for a long moment, “What is it called? A sad sack?” Elodie huffed indignantly, “now I’m really not helping you.”

Romy walked on the other side of the bike with her, smiling serenely. “You’re the one out drinking in the fields.” Elodie jutted her chin out petulantly, “well maybe I would have processed my divorce somewhere else if I knew you were stalking me.” Romy’s feet crunched on the dirt road and it seemed odd, “did you like being married?” Elodie frowned as she asked, what kind of question is that? Romy continued, “I promised a boy I would marry him once. But he had such terrible breath in 6th grade that I don’t think I could ever really go through with it.” “How old are you?” Elodie asked in concern, “how do… you remember things?” “Like you do,” she said with placid smile, “and I’m 22.” Elodie whistled, “so young…” So young to die.

“You’re… twenty six?”

“Barely,” Elodie grumbled, “twenty six. Divorced. Barely employed.” She continued her laments, “If mama was lucid she would never let me hear the end of it.” Romy threaded a hand through her long blonde hair, “it happens.” She side-eyed her, “was it fun? Marriage?”

Elodie shrugged, “for a time… when you’re 19 and in love everything is fun.”

“Huh,” Romy nodded, “my mother married at 19 too.” Elodie studied the ghost for a long moment, “do you remember where you are now, Romy? What’s been happening to you?” Romy simply frowned, “I think so… be careful with your hand by the way.” The crunch of dirt under car wheels sounded from behind them. “And the lavender fields.”

Elodie’s eyes went wide, “will my hand get worse?” She swallowed, “fall off?” Romy just laughed, “no! Oh my gosh.” She snickered, “I don’t think what happened to me will happen to you.” “Uh,” the back of Elodie’s neck prickled, “Romy…” She said softly, “do you know what happened to you? Did someone… do this to you?” “No.” Romy gave a slim smile, “no one’s done anything. Not yet.”

“What?”

“I would like an orange.” She announced, grabbing the bike basket and stopping the bike in place. “Buy me an orange please. And I’ll keep you company.” “I really don’t want that.” Romy shrugged, “then I’ll leave you alone.” Elodie laughed and was about to confirm that deal, and then someone beeped at them from behind. “Don’t walk in the middle of the road, girls!”

“Oh, sorry,” Elodie waved behind her and danced off to the side of the road. “We should be more careful,” she chuckled, “wouldn’t want you to double-die.” She looked back to the place Romy had been, but the phantom girl was gone again. “Oh.”  Elodie blinked at the empty space and for an odd moment her heart sank at the sight. Then she got on her bike and quickly sped away from the spot- low bike tire or not.

The birds chirped overhead and the village appeared, Elodie reflected on her own mortal soul, oranges, and the way her mother’s eyes looked the night when she stopped recognizing their faces.

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

Elodie was staring at her left hand, flexing it, examining the fingertips and the mole on her pinky and scar on her right middle finger from a frisbee accident. She swore the light shifted unnaturally around the skin and shadows clung to it.

It might have all been in her head though, it might have been a slow descent into something unnamable and as threatening as teeth in the dark. Did him leaving really make me lose it this far? Am I ruined?

The house was quiet that day, the kids were playing over at a neighbor’s house and Lea had been out in the garden digging up weeds. Only the dog had been making much noise, and they still hadn’t talked about their mother and her outburst the night before.

They hadn’t talked about much at all.

Elodie puttered around the two story house until she located a small grey bag and filled it up. She slunk outside just as the sun hugged the horizon. Lea watched her from the garden, but neither of them said anything. “Mama,” Lea finally addressed Elodie’s back, “mama wanted me to tell you something.” Elodie turned and raised an eyebrow, Lea frowned delicately, standing among the tomato bushes. “Keep your feet under you.” “Okay?” Elodie stared at Lea for a long moment, but she didn’t have anymore energy for this.

She made her way to the edge of the property and walked until the house was just a white block on the horizon. She let her thoughts fade away until she came to a brimy lake that was a lake only in name alone. She turned to a low hill and surveyed the thick purple field.

She had decided to face this all head-on.

Elodie took a deep breath, “Romy?” She whispered, “Romy.” She lifted up the bag, “I have something for you.”

She waited for a long minute, the shadows dragging across the ground and crickets leaped out of her way as she strode into the lavender-scented undergrowth.

“Elodie,” a voice sang in return, “I know you.” Elodie whipped around, and the phantom was both tangible and smiling at her. “Hello.”

They stood several paces from each other, lavender plants surrounding them on all sides and the sun disappearing over the blue mountains.

Elodie exhaled, “here.” She took an orange out of the small bag and tossed it, her eyes trailed after it carefully, and to her deep surprise Romy caught it in between her pale hands. Elodie scowled, “how?”

Romy brought the fruit up to her face and sniffed it, “smells like summer.” Elodie tugged at her hair, “should I get a priest?” She barked, “do you need a priest or a detective? We can solve this Romy- we can let you rest.” Romy felt the orange in between her fingertips, “it’s been a very long time since I’ve eaten anything.” “I bet.” Elodie said dryly.

“Or maybe not that long?” Romy’s face clouded over in confusion and then she started peeling the fruit. Citrus sprayed and her fingers dripped with juice.

Elodie stood very still as she watched the display, and she glanced down at her own hand- was it moving strangely again?

She watched the phantom finish peeling the orange.

“Did you… do something to my hand- or my mom?” Romy shook her head, “I can’t do much.” She peeled an orange slice and plopped it into her mouth.

“Okay,” Elodie took a strained breath in through her nose, “then what happened to my hand?” Romy chewed thoughtfully, “I wish I knew.” She finally said, “it’s… hard. It’s hard.” Elodie studied Romy closely, and then she placed her bag down on the ground and settled into a cross-legged position on the ground. “Fine. What year were you born? Who were your parents? What’s your last name?” Romy gave a faint smile, “you really want to do this?” “I want to move on. And I can’t if I have… all this on my mind.” Romy’s gaze misted over, “it’s too late.” She said soberly, “but I understand why you’re here.”

Elodie quirked her mouth to the side, “why?” Romy pointed down, “it might be fine.” She nodded at Elodie’s hand. “Or maybe it won’t be.” “What did you do?!” “Nothing.” She sat across from Elodie, “can’t we just have a nice meal?” She asked sweetly, “tell me your favorite memory.” Elodie leaned back on her hands, “I’m trying to help here.” Romy smiled brightly, “then help me. My favorite memory was when I was seven.” She forged on ahead, “my brother had just stolen my new Mrs. Sally dolly. He was laughing his head off, he was the worst kind of brat. Your son-” “Nephew.” “Yes, him, is so much sweeter, I’m jealous.” Elodie couldn’t help but crack a smile, “you should be.”

She waved a hand in the air, “he was running all across the farm with Mrs. Sally while I cried and tried to come after him. But! Just as he was teasing me he ran straight into a pile of dung!” Romy’s face broke open and she started laughing.

Elodie laughed too despite herself, and shook her head. “I respect your favorite memory.” Romy gave a sneaking smile, “I thought you would.” Elodie sat up straight, “tell me when you were born.” “Years ago.” “Ugh.”

Romy just smirked, “now you. Tell me a favorite memory.” Elodie sighed and started to speak, “it was the first month of my au pair job and the whole family was taking a trip to a water park, a real water park with rides and giant slides, and the biggest pool I’ve ever seen…” If someone had told Elodie she shouldn’t converse with spirits she would have believed them. If someone told her right then to stop doing it- she probably wouldn’t have either.

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

It was well into the night when they stopped chatting, Romy was evasive as she had ever been. And Elodie was yawning.

“And then,” she rubbed at once of her eyes, “and then Lea said ‘but it’s not my fault!’ And mama just made her clean up the living room anyway!”

“You were the worst!” Romy spouted in joy.

“Oh yes,” Elodie beamed, “a terror.” She covered another yawn, but this time with a smile.

“I can tell,” Romy gave a small smile. “It’s too bad you’ve calmed down now.” “Have not,” Elodie said briskly, “I’m out here, aren’t I? No calm person goes chasing ghosts.”

“Not a ghost,” she commented dryly and leaned forward, “but you should sleep.” She looked up at the dark sky, “your sister really might kick you out if you pass out here again.” Elodie waved a hand through the air, “it doesn’t matter. I can’t sleep anyway.” “Why?” Romy asked in her usual curious way.

“Runs in the family.” She said simply. “It helped when I used to watch kids. I was always up with them then.” “Huh,” Elodie nodded, “did you always want to be a nanny?”

“Au pair,” she corrected tartly, “and… not really? I just wanted to be paid to travel and live in a nice house.”

“Ah,” Romy grinned with a rich laugh, “an opportunist.”

Elodie rolled her eyes, “it was going all according to plans until I gave into my damn self, or love, or whatever it was.” Romy frowned, “Carl?” “He was charming… at the time.” She said with a sigh, “I should have known, everyone warned me about him. He was twice my age and already dating someone the family actually approved of at the time.” “You were young,” Romy said carefully, “I would… be easier on yourself.” Elodie’s head bent down, “he was a doctor you know. Paid for everything, helped me with my sleep problems, bought me nice things…” “But a jerk doctor.” Romy said loudly. Elodie snapped her head up, “you don’t know him.” “Alright, but I bet he was a jerk!”

Elodie couldn’t help but smile, “he kind of was.” “I bet he chewed with his mouth open!”

“No, no,” Elodie said and snickered, “he did always like runny eggs though. Really runny, he got it all over his beard when he ate, it was terrible.” “Gross,” Romy nodded, “and his feet stank.” Elodie just giggled at that, “you sound like an eleven year old at a slumber party. I’m over it now you know.” “Are you?” “I mean… no.” Elodie relented, “but I will be.”

Romy leaned forward with a cheeky glint to her eyes, “and I bet he was terrible in bed.” Elodie snickered behind her hand and couldn’t help but beam at the phantom, “he had his… faults.” She leaned forward to whisper, “he tired so easily.” Romy cackled like a young girl, “oh Elodie, I missed this.” Elodie twitched at that, “missed what?” Romy shook her head, “I wish it wasn’t like this.” Her shoulders rose.

“Yeah,” Elodie nodded, “it might have been nice to meet you in a normal way.” “Oh, but what fun would that be?” Romy smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about it.” “I can still-” “Tell me about your high school days, I bet you were a right rebel.” Elodie gave a small yawn, “I wish I could help you Romy.” She said and tried to peel open the enigma a little more.

“You have.” Romy reached out her hand, pale and strange in the night air. “If you want…” She said carefully, “you could do it again.” Elodie’s eyes went huge and she drew back, “you mean…put my hand…?” She shook her head, “that hurt like the devil.” Romy withdrew, “I know.” She looked sheepish, “sorry.” She started to fade, her edges smearing and colors draining like they were dipped in bleach. “I won’t ask again.”

“Wait,” Elodie whispered, “there must be something else I can do for you.” Romy shook her head, “go home Elodie. Sleep.” And then she was gone, and Elodie was alone again.

She didn’t know why her chest tightened at that. She didn’t know why the best conversation she had in months was with something that couldn’t possibly be real.

She still didn’t sleep that night.

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

Elodie sat upright, her eyes drooping and thoughts myopic in her head- circling round and round with no end and no beginning. The fan was on high and the day was reaching an apex of dreamy, muggy heat.

It was not a day for doing things.

“Oh,” a light voice said nearby and noisily turned a page. “Of course.” Elodie glanced up in irritation, she sat in her mother’s bedroom where the woman was sleeping off a minor fever with a cool wet cloth across her forehead. Elodie promised to watch her. The day nurse, Tina, sat on the other side of the bed, a book was propped open in her lap and eyes darting down it’s page.

Tina was a willowy girl with hair twisted up in elaborate hair-dos, she wore too many bracelets, thick glasses, and had a perfume that smelled sweetly of peaches.

“Listen to this,” she said, unbothered by Elodie’s flat looks. Tina cleared her throat, “’the increase of disorder or entropy is what distinguishes the past from the future, giving a direction to time.’ Isn’t that fascinating?” Tina was a trained nurse in school to be something else altogether.

“Sounds great Tina.” “Isn’t it, oh, and this one,” she flipped to a new page, Elodie knew Tina had already read this book before, “’God abhors a naked singularity!’ It’s so poetic.”

“Stephan is a genius for a reason,” she responded listlessly.

“He sure is,” she turned back to her book.

Elodie didn’t dislike Tina, she was young and bright and didn’t mind coming to the house four times a week to look after a woman who called her by a boys name every morning. The only problem was how quickly she smiled, and much she reminded Elodie of what she used to be.

Elodie could use a drink.

She was drowsily slumped over in her chair, it had been another long night chatting with the enigmatic spirit of the lavender fields.

Tina tittered from her chair, “I have to send this.” She took a picture of a passage from her book and quickly typed away, “Mike will love it.” Elodie gave a half-hearted smile, “that your sweetie?” She tried to pass the time as they watched over her slumbering mother.

“Oh yeah,” Tina grinned, “Mike and I have been dating for years.” “That’s nice,” Elodie tried to say genuinely, “how did you meet?” Tina didn’t look up as she typed, “online.” She said simply, “he works in IT right now in Silicon Valley, in America.”

“Huh,” Elodie felt done with the conversation at that point.

“I’m going to join him once I’m done with school, oh,” she glanced up, “not that I would stop coming for miss Evelyne.” “It’s fine,” Elodie said as she raked a hand through her hair. “Mama is… well, she’ll miss you in her own way. But you’re fine to move on whenever you need to.” “She’s doing better,” Tina said earnestly, “honestly, I heard her saying new names yesterday- and she held her own spoon!”

“Yeah,” Elodie took a deep breath, “she’s… yeah.” They both just nodded awkwardly at each other and Tina turned back to her book, “ooh. Listen to this Miss Elodie, the universe doesn’t allow perfection…” It was a long slow afternoon, but Elodie paused once, her heartbeat striking into her chest. Her mother opened her crusted eyes and looked directly at the mirror on the wall.

“Romy,” she whispered, “Romy, why won’t you leave?” Elodie paused and her whole world crashed down around her.

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

Elodie didn’t sleep well that night, she rarely did, but it had been days by that point, and this was pushing it even for her. She didn’t even slip away into unconsciousness as the sun rose. She didn’t slip away at all.

Romy…

“Carl,” she spoke to the ceiling, and scowled. “You would know what to do with that, wouldn’t you?” She wasn’t sure, the ceiling did not speak back to her.

Romy…

Elodie clasped and unclasped her left hand, staring at it to try and make sense of it, it hadn’t hurt or tingled since that first strange night she tried to touch the phantom. Now it just sometimes looked out of place, different.

Romy…

She said the name out loud this time and for a moment she expected the specter to simply appear before her. But no, Romy didn’t work that way.

“Carl,” she said instead and grimaced, “Fuck you.” She got up from bed and took a long walk. Romy didn’t appear then either.

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

Elodie balanced high up on a thick tree branch, her back bent over and her body scrunched into a ball. The sun was blinking into view between the fluffy white clouds and the air smelled of baking dirt and a hot day to come.

A voice echoed in the distance: “eleven rocket ship, ten rocket ship, nine rocket ship…”

Elodie gave a small smile and settled onto the branch, she had even worn a faded green t-shirt that day to blend in and climbed behind a thick bunch of leaves. Her sleep deprived body protested the initial climb, but she managed all the same.

She crouched low on the branch.

“What are we doing?” A voice whispered into her ear.

“Ah!” Elodie scrambled to hold on tightly as a figure materialized beside her. “Jesus.” Romy’s form stitched itself together from nothing, first the outline and then the folds and details and colors bleeding together. She was similarly crouched on a branch across from her and staring straight ahead, the branch immediately bounced lightly under the new weight.

“Is this another cry for help?” Romy asked casually, “I’m impressed it’s so high up.”

“No, it’s not a cry for help, sshh,” Elodie waved a hand in the air and whispered harshly.

“Is it for-”

“Sshh! We’re playing hide and seek.” She interrupted in order to quiet her, “Samuel insisted I make it hard this time.” Romy covered her mouth and giggled, “I bet you just like winning.” Elodie waved her hand frantically again to hush her as a loud voice burst from nearby: “one rocket ship…. Lift off!”

Elodie held her breath as the grass rustled and he seemed to run in the opposite direction. She exhaled as he sprinted away.

“He always wins,” she explained coolly as she turned back to Romy, “he’s very disappointed in me he says and it’s no fun if I don’t try.”

Romy met her gaze, “you’re very good with them you know.”

Elodie shrugged and looked away just as a small smile crept across her features. “It’s nothing. They’re easy…”

Romy peaked out between the leaves toward the ground, “what happens when he wins?” Elodie tilted her chin up, “he gets my desserts for a night.” She wagged a finger in the air, “and if I win he has to carry me to bed like a princess.” Romy snort-laughed, “have you ever won?” Elodie scratched her nose, “well it would help if I wasn’t being actively haunted.” “Ooh,” Romy wiggled her fingers in the air. “Yes. Satanic spirit come to ruin your hide and seek games.”

“Yes. I’m being punished for something, remember?” She clicked her tongue and Romy’s shoulders shook with small laughs. Elodie smiled despite herself, and then wavered. She studied Romy up and down, “have you been speaking with my mom? She said your name earlier. Romy.”

Romy leaned forward on the branch, “there are many Romy’s. And I’ve only spoken to you.” She scrunched her nose up and Elodie tried not to notice that it was rather endearing. “And it’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to anyone at all.” Elodied hunched over even more, “will you tell me now where you’ve been? Where you go?” “Nowhere.” She repeated as she always did.

Elodie sighed loudly, “well. Either way, I’m sorry to hear that.” She looked down at the grassy forest floor. “It must be very lonely.” “I guess.” She said blankly, “and you?” Elodie looked up, drooping slightly under the rising heat. “Me, what?” “You must be lonely too,” she whispered, eyes focused on her. “I’m sorry as well.” “Ugh,” Elodie leaned back, “even the undead feel bad for me. I should have mentioned that in my divorce hearing as a future undo emotional burden.” Romy smiled again and it was a nice sight. “It’s alright. I don’t mind you being a sad sack, it works for you.”

“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it,” she joked, but some of the light had left her eyes. Romy’s hand wandered up and out, and for a moment- just a moment, it seemed as if she might touch her, but instead she simply held onto a branch higher up.

“I wasn’t always,” Elodie looked past the other girl’s thin wrists to the sky, “I wasn’t always like this. Lea would say it’s growing up, but I never imagined it would be this way.” “What did you imagine?” Romy asked breathily, “I always thought I’d have my own practice by now.” “What practice?” Elodie asked quickly, eyes wide.

Romy shook her head, “For animals.” She said dreamily. “It doesn’t matter now, tell me what you imagined. Though I will warn you it may increase your sad sackiness.”

“What, do you expect me to say a lost princess or something?” She said irritably.

“No, more like forlorn waif in a lighthouse,” she grinned, “waisting away her youth on a lost love by the ocean side.”

Elodie rolled her eyes. “I’m fine with being a lonely waif in a lighthouse, but I’m done with the whole love bit.”

Romy tilted her head to the side, “but that’s the best part.” Her eyes looked Elodie up and down, “I bet you were a romantic once. I can tell.”

“Ugh, I guess,” she looked away, “I mean, I had all these ideas about love as a kid, obsessed over it, dreamed about it- I was one of those fools, you know? But I’m never doing anything like that again.”

Romy met her eyes carefully and the humor died down, “was it that bad? When it ended?” “It was bad,” Elodie’s voice wavered, emotion gathering in her tone. “But it’s not a big deal. Plenty of people go through divorces.” She looked at her hands and tried to swallow as a lump formed there against her will. Romy leaned close and Elodie smelled lavender and fresh mountain air, “you were so young when it started… It must hurt now.”

“But it’s over now. I mean, I think it’s over. I really want it to be over,” she bunched her shoulders up and a wave of dread ran over her as she realized something prickly and red was spilling over. “God.” She sniffed loudly, “It’s just, what if I never get over this? What if I’m ruined? And like, never alright again?”

It’s broken Carl, it’s all broken. And you broke it. She let the tears zip down her cheek and then gave a mighty exhale. And I broke it.

“It’s okay,” Romy was reaching out a hand again. “You don’t have to be alright, you don’t have to be anything at all. I’m sorry if I’ve been teasing you. I think you’re the most interesting person I’ve come across.” Elodie blinked through her stinging tears and pale fingers ghost close to her cheek. She swallowed her next whimper, “I want to be better.” Romy was very close, radiating something hushed and strange. “Here. Close your eyes.”

Elodie hunched over and tightened her group on the branch. “Okay?” She closed her eyes and waited. “They’re closed.” “Three, two, one,” a burst of cold air ran across her face and tiny pinpricks of cold settled on her cheeks.

Elodie popped her eyes opened in surprise and the air was sparkling with something. She touched her cheek and it was wet. “Snow?” She looked at the glittery white substance. “Snow!?”

Romy lifted her chin up proudly. “It’s my blessing. You’re going to be okay, that’s a promise.” She nodded, “and my blessings are good, I am a satanic being that interrupts hide and seek games after all.” Elodie was still gawking at the snow melting on her fingertips, “what the fuck.” Romy cupped her hands and frost glittered on her fingertips, “I have more if you like, as much as you need.” Elodie stared openly at her, “I feel as if I am being pranked. Perhaps by my brain, or the universe.” Romy sighed heavily and swung her legs back and forth, “only if you believe it.” She looked away, “but don’t worry, I won’t use the powers to hurt any of you. Duh.” “I know,” Elodie touched more snowflakes that settled in her hair, “I’m not sure about any of this, but thank you.” She gave a tentative smile, “I accept your blessing. I’d give you a hug if that were possible.” Romy’s expression pinched together, her features contorting. Distress seemed to radiate through her whole body, “I would like that.” She looked down, “I really would.”

Elodie’s heart thrummed in her throat and for a second she was reaching up too, considering the strange phantom in front of her. She imagined for a moment, just a moment, she was a real girl, in a real tree, hiding together and blowing snow on her face.

She imagined. And then she closed her eyes and let her hand fall to the side. When she looked up again the branch across from her was empty. Her muscles untensed, “see you around Romy…” She closed her eyes again.

Several minutes later a voice called up to her.

“Aunt Elodie!” A voice cried and knocked on the wood. “I found you. You were too loud! I heard your voice.” Elodie peaked over the side of the branch and smiled down, “it took you thirty minutes to find me anyway!”

“Nuh-huh,” he shook his head, “twenty-nine minutes. You still lose!” She laughed and nodded, “alright, alright,” she carefully made her way back to the trunk and slid toward the ground. “You can have my desert.” He tagged her and Elodie’s face dried, and something tightened and released in her chest. She followed Samuel hand in hand back to the house and some weight on her shoulder tops shifted.

She imagined she saw frost on her window that night, and Romy’s reflection in the glass.

She touched the reflection briefly before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

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

“You shouldn’t drink.” Elodie scowled as she heard that familiar voice again, “this is water.” She turned toward a large tree to her left. “And it’s nine in the morning.” A girl in a blue dress stepped out onto the dirt road with her, she liked to accompany Elodie to the town- it seemed to be her favorite time to appear. She dusted off her pristine skirts, “I was just checking.” Elodie made a face at her, “I’m not that much of a mess.” Romy gave a cheeky smile, “you sure?” “Fine,” Elodie stuck her tongue out, “you’ve convinced me, maybe I will go to the bars on a Tuesday and forget my own name.” Romy laughed gaily, “don’t,” she sang, “you said you do bad celebrity impressions if you’re too drunk. I won’t be held responsible for encouraging a public menace.” Elodie wrinkled her face up, “I shouldn’t have told you that.” “Too late!” She laughed again.

“Well,” Elodie cleared her throat, “I know you don’t know how to jump rope. That’s much worse.” “It’s too complicated!” Romy defended, “and I never learned, Yvonne and her friends were little caesar’s, they wouldn’t let me join as a kid. That’s number two on my list of crimes against me.”

Elodie laughed this time, “crimes against you list?”

“Yes,” she stated, “starting with my brother, and Yvonne, and now you. For bringing this all up.” “True pain,” Elodie giggled and watched Romy’s smiling face for a long second, “seeing young girls in school yards must hurt you to this day.” She leaned close and Elodie’s breath hitched. She could smell the soft lavender on her and count her long fair eyelashes. Her traitorous heart sped up, don’t do this to me. She begged, I can’t drown like this again. I won’t survive it this time.

She reminded herself this wasn’t real.

“Yes,” Romy smirked in a way that felt real. “Much like the hurt school children must feel when you do a poor impression of Asterix.” Elodie pulled away and forced herself to look up at the sky instead, “Oh hush, do you want oranges today or not?” She tried to channel Lea’s grumpiness as she said it. Romy smiled merrily and opened her mouth to confirm whatever treat she wanted that day, and then her features froze. Her body shimmered in place- an oddity of color and depth. “You should go home.” “What?” Romy took a step forward that was too large for a human girl, “go home!” She screeched. Elodie had just a moment to question that, but seeing the shadows on her friend’s face and the fear there struck in her heart, she turned. She took off toward her house with Romy on her heels, “go, quickly.” She ran all the way home, sweating and gasping for breath as she reached the property. She knew something was wrong the second she saw both Samuel and Margot shooed outside on the porch.

“Aunt Elodie!” They waved, “mama said-” Elodie didn’t stop though, she just dashed into the house. Anguished wheezing came from the corner room, “mom!” She streaked into the next room and gasped, “Lea.” Lea and Tina surrounded a wheezing old woman as she clutched at her chest, spittle gathered at the corners of her mouth and her watery eyes bulged out of her head as she struggled for air.

Lea glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve already called for the ambulance.” Tears pricked at Elodie’s eyes, Lea was already holding their mother’s withered hand as Tina searched through her instruments for something.

“What’s going on?” Elodie came to the edge of the bed and winced at each pained breath from her mom.

“Her vitals were off and she just started doing this,” Tina said with her eyes wild. “I think it’s her lungs.” “Not now,” their mother wheezed and they all turned toward her. “No, I can’t! Not now.” “It’ll be alright, mom, the doctors are coming.” Lea stroked her hand.

“No, not now.” Elodie’s blood ran cold, their mother looked off into nothing. “Please,” she struggled, “tell her I’m not ready, Romy Durand. Tell her to stop!”

Elodie looked to her left and her eyes landed on the last thing she expected. Romy had followed her all the way into the tight bedroom.

The phantom stood in the corner- looking pale and stiff as a board. For the first time Elodie felt a strike of fear through her system by the sight of her. Their mother stared at the strange phantom in the corner and repeated her name. “No!”

The ambulance came up the lane.

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

Romy. Romy Durand.

That was a real name, a real person. That was someone.

Elodie came home from the hospital that night, chilled and shaking from head to toe. Her mom passed out on the way over to the hospital and hadn’t woken up yet. They said it was a partially collapsed lung and that she’d have to stay overnight, but a full recovery was possible.

The sterile white walls and floors of the county hospital reflected like mirrors in the back of her head and a jittery energy coursed through her limbs. She couldn’t sit still.

She wandered into the yard and turned around and around, “Romy!” She yelled loudly, “Romy Durand, I know your name, come here!”

She spun until a shimmering figure stood just across the yard, looking sheepishly down at the ground and not moving. She was flatter and stiffer than before, a pastel color in a room full of neon.

Elodie swallowed a hard lump in her throat. “Why?” She croaked, “why didn’t you tell me you knew my mom?” Romy Durand was a real person.

Romy shifted toward her, “Elodie, please.” She said hoarsely. “I don’t want to do this.” Elodie took several strides toward the creature, “who the fuck are you?!”

“I can’t help your mom.” Romy looked at her pink smudgy slippers. Elodie tore across the unkempt lawn, “yeah, well you can tell me what’s going on.” Romy just shook her head, “I can’t.” Elodie thrust her hand out. “Are you dead? Undead? An alien?”

“Don’t touch me!” Romy jumped back, “I thought you knew that. God, I knew I shouldn’t have gone to you.” “Tell me how you know things, tell me what’s going on.” Romy shook her head again, listlessly, empty. “I can’t. I don’t know.” She swallowed thickly and looked directly at Elodie.

“Help your mom Elodie. I won’t bother you anymore,” she said somberly, form shivering and body crinkling at the edges like burnt paper. “Spend time with your family, eat something nice, meet someone new. Sleep. Don’t waste all this that you’re given… and thank you.” “Romy, hey! Stay right there,” She dove toward the figure and her fingers briefly entered the mist that was the phantom. They burned instantly, the tips of her hands shaking with a silver and undistilled pain. She let out a screech and Romy let out a final word:

“Goodbye.”

And then she was alone with her shaking hands and the memory of that terrible sting. But she was alone again.

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

Elodie’s mom slowly recovered.

The doctor said she was going to be a bit slower after this and ended up staying overnight at the hospital for nearly a week. The small family gave a collective exhale and Lea called her husband to confirm everything was alright, Craig would be home in two weeks from his summer work trip.

Elodie told her sister only one thing that weekend: I’m going to the library.

She sat down with a giant directory and opened to the first page. It held everyone born since 1950, she dragged her finger down by the “D” last names and started scanning.

Someone had to know about a girl that used to exist here, who used to be Romy Durand. It was a long first afternoon.

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

“Aunt Elodie!” Samuel piped up.

“Hmm?” Elodie barely looked up, “Samuel, where’s Margot? You’re supposed to be staying with her in the kid’s section.” “But you said,” he face fell, “you said tell you if I found anything.” Elodie’s eyes snapped up, “found anything?” He hurried up, “I asked the librarian about your mission.” He whispered the word “mission” in a careful hush.

Elodie sat up straight and her back popped, “what do you…?” He held a large book up, “she said check the old papers and gave me this.” “Oh.”

She put down the enormous local directory and turned to her nephew, “what did you find?”

He shrugged, “I dunno.” He flipped open the pages of the binder holding old local newspaper articles, “but look at this picture!”

Elodie’s eyes popped out of her head, “no.” “It looks like that thing, right?” He said excitedly, all of his eight-year old energy spinning out.

She traced her hand over a large picture of a young woman, circa 1970. Her face was narrow and smiling and she had a crooked nose and dark eyes.

Pictured, it said, Romy Durand.

Elodie studied the image for a very long second as she processed the vivid face, her pink cheeks, and expression sharp and smiling. She was so real.

She took another long second to process the headline of the article: Missing Woman.

Elodie held her breath, “it’s her.” She whispered, “she was here.” “The Phantom,” Samuel sucked on his bottom lip, “I knew it. Is she angry?” “No,” Elodie shook her head and trailed her fingers over the title font. “But I think…” She exhaled a long breath, “I don’t know what to think anymore.” Samuel glanced out the library windows, “can she come here?” He asked in a tense voice, they still believed she might eat them.

Elodie glanced up, “have you seen her recently?” He must have picked up on the hope in her tone, “not really.” He shook his head.

Elodie looked back to the vivid picture and nodded at it, “me neither.” She said softly and then gathered the book to her chest. “Thank you for this Samuel.” “Yeah!” He cheered and Elodie looked toward the checkout counter.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

Samuel followed her back down the stairs to collect his sister, he cheered the whole time about ghost hunting, how he found a clue, and about the “tricks” she could do.

Elodie hoped she had one last trick in her.

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

June, 1970

A group of young people have reported Romy Durand, a local young woman, to be missing since last Sunday. The group says that they were out on a yearly class reunion and planned a picnic for the event.

Romy Durand allegedly disappeared during this outing. Romy was described as a “free-spirited” youth with high hopes of completing a veterinary degree later next year and joining her family business. She was said to be a friendly, outgoing, and cheerful person.

Several of her classmates are in questioning right now by local authorities and a community search is underway.

No traces of the girl have appeared. She was last scene near the village of Les Ferres in Provence wearing a blue dress and pink shoes. She was twenty-two year old blonde woman, roughly 152 centimeters in height and 58 kilos in weight.

If seen please contact…

Elodie read the words over and over again until they ached.

She screwed her face up, this was all over fifty years ago.

No wonder her mother thought the dead were walking.

Elodie searched other databases and newspapers: there were several reports of a girl going missing and the case going cold after several years. People would sometimes report seeing a girl in the countryside, but every time authorities appeared to investigate no trace of her would be left.

It was called a community myth and passed into superstition.

The phantom in the fields was most definitely this young woman, and Elodie would make sure none of it was over yet. It was 2pm on a Saturday and she was back in the corner room of their house.

Her mom was sleeping soundly in the bed and Elodie had the binder of old newspaper clippings open on her lap. Tina was humming and reading a new book as well. They waited for the old woman to wake again.

It had been a tough recovery, but Evelyn Paquet was tough and hung on like a hangnail to a cracked knuckle. She didn’t say much in the following days, and Elodie didn’t prompt her.

Tina looked up every few seconds to search Elodie’s face, and then would return to her book again. It took several hours until Elodie’s mother stirred, and they fed her morning yogurt and medication and endured her usual complaining.

“All you ever do is leave me in this bed, Daniel,” she said with a vacant stare. “I should call someone about elder abuse.” “We’re putting on your programs right now Miss Paquet,” Tina said in a light tone, “remember? We’re watching the news this morning.” She took a breath, “why does my chest hurt so much?”

“You’re in recovery, remember Evelyn?” Tina said gently. “Your lungs are healing.” “Right, right,” she nodded absently and Elodie sucked in a tight breath. “Mom,” Elodie reached for her mom’s hand and tried to hold her gaze. “I have a serious question to ask you.” Both Tina and her mom looked directly at her, Tina’s eyebrow quirked up and her mother just scowled through the fog of her mind.

“What is it Daniel?” “Yeah,” Tina studied Elodie closely, “what is it?” Elodie took a deep breath, “how do you know Romy Durand?” A long silence followed, long and tense and her mother’s gaze floated away from her and to the corner. “The devil walks.” She hissed and Elodie’s eyes went wide.

“Do you know what happened to her?” She asked quickly.

Tina was really paying attention now, “who is that?” “Victor Durand’s younger sister,” her mom said dryly, “we don’t speak of her anymore.” Elodie’s eyes went wide, “I do.” She said quickly and looked to the corner as if Romy might suddenly pop up there. “What happened to her?” Tina’s brow folded in and her eyes darted between the two women. “She,” her mother struggled with something and then laid back in bed. “You can’t touch her. Don’t touch her.” She grimaced, “we were all told to never go near again.” She shook her head, “and you. My own daughter…” Elodie jerked forward and hovered over her, “what the hell happened?” Her mom’s face clouded over, expression softening into befuddlement. “I saw her. We all did.” Elodie held her breath as she waited for more. “She was there one second and then… those fields are evil you know, evil. The dead walk.” Elodie blinked a couple times, “did something get her? Did someone… hurt her?” Her mom just shook her head and looked to the TV, “I want to watch my programs now.” “Wait, one more quest-”

“No.” Her mom said firmly.

“Mom, please.” She hated that it sounded like begging. “Stop being difficult.” She said in a voice Elodie knew well. “You were always so difficult.” “Mom! For once in your life,” she fumed, “take me seriously, listen to me. Tell me where she went.” Her mom’s crusty eyes focused on her, “Daniel. Don’t yell at me.”

“Ugh!” Elodie threw her hands in the air and turned to go outside, “I’m going for a walk.” Tina just watched her go and her mom insisted they turn on “the funny man” show for her and complained about how her chest hurt. Elodie was still no closer to understanding the phantom they had first seen among the lavender since they bought the house.

Or where Romy could have gone now.

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

Elodie resented admitting to herself that she missed talking with a ghost, but there was a soft, empty part of her heart that rang hollow. She hadn’t talked to her in two weeks and it felt urgent, important, she looked back to the newspaper article on the disappeared girl.

She told herself to move on. She told herself to go the bars for real again, look for someone new to talk to.

She sat in the evening sun on their small porch and let her thoughts run away with her again. Her father before he passed always said she had the mind for mysteries- if only she stopped and settled on something maybe she could become a detective. Or a reporter. Or a superhero.

He always did have so many ideas for her.

Elodie sighed and traced the photo once more.

“Where did you go?” Elodie whispered at her, “why were you still here?” “Ah,” Elodie jumped as a voice joined her, “your sister said you were obsessing over something out here.” Elodie twisted around as Tina she stood at the front door with a bag on her shoulder, “sorry, her words, not mine.” She waved, “I was just headed out for the day. Your mother seems to be doing just fine considering.”

Elodie nodded without really looking at her, “good work today.” She said flatly and turned back toward the setting sun.

The porch boards groaned as Tina took a few steps out, “you know, my boyfriend has only ever visited me here once here.” “That’s good,” Elodie felt distinctly strange as she brought this up.

Tina tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear, “but he told me he wanted to explore the area. He brought this reader, said there were strange electromagnetic pulses in the area.”

Elodie turned to look at Tina more closely, “what are you saying?”

“This place is pretty empty,” she shrugged, “but there’s more to it than it looks.” She met Elodie’s eyes and held it, “strange readings.” Elodie’s eyes went wide, “have you heard of the phantom in the lavender fields?” Tina patted Elodie’s shoulder, “I should go. Your sister told me not to fuel your… distractions. I just thought I should let you know.” “Electromagnetic readings…” Elodie chewed on that for a long second as Tina went toward her parked car along the dirt road. She didn’t look back as she Elodie stewed with her thoughts.

“Wait!” Elodie called across the yard as Tina hovered by her beat-up subaru. Elodie lifted her hand up and pointed, “I touched it. My hand went through the phantom.” She couldn’t believe she was admitting to doing something so stupid, but she had to get Tina’s attention. She had to learn more.

Tina just quirked one of her eyebrows up, “oh?”

Elodie nodded as if her life depended on it, “I touched it. And talked to her. Is there… anything you can do?”

The twenty-year old just gestured for her and Elodie went running for the nurse’s car.

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

Elodie was sitting in a basement with a cold metal folding chair biting into her skin and a musty smell settling in her mouth. She squinted in the dim area and tried not to ask herself how she got into these situations.

It was a tight basement with old monitors in the corner and stacks of books piled up by the small yellowing windows. They sat around a flimsy card table with a single light overhead and the sound of the television blaring from up above.

Tina sat perfectly upright with her hair in four elaborate buns.

“So,” Elodie shifted in place, “you wanna show it to me?” Tina took a black box from her bag and set it in front of them, “Mike left this with me.” She said simply, “it should tell us if… uh, something happened to your hand.” Elodie scowled, “it did.”

Tina just nodded and flipped it over, “put it on top.”

It was a long black rectangle with plastic face and an arrow inside that rested on a long sticker that went from green to red.

Elodie clenched her left hand, lifted it, and carefully put it down near the cold face. It beeped rapidly and a light blinked. The red arrow on the face spiked- going from the green stickers all the way over to the red zone at the other side.

“Oh.” Tina’s said in delight and then adjusted her glasses, “so interesting.” Elodie turned quickly, “so that’s a yes? Some… magnetic-y thing happened?”

Tina hummed deeply and kept her eyes on the beeping machine, “it looks like it.” She smiled brightly, “I can’t believe I can tell Mike about the area. A real anomaly!”

“What about Romy?” Elodie said through clenched teeth, “what about the disappearance?”

“Well,” Tina looked at Elodie carefully, “that could be many things… But you for sure ran into something! A real electromagnetic distortion.” “And what could that be?” Tina frowned and reached for her machine, going over the readings again. “Tell me exactly what you’ve seen again.” “A girl. She comes and goes, like a mist. I touched her and it…. Hurt.” “Huh.” Tina just nodded.

“Yes?” Elodie clenched teeth. “She looks weird too. And when I was drinking and touched her, she, she changed. She became more real. And we talked, a lot.” “Huh.”

“And now I haven’t seen her again, not like I used to.” “I see.” Elodie put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, “tell me something useful.” Tina flinched and tensed, “well, I mean. It’s not enough data yet.” She looked away, “there’s no way of knowing.” “Ah!” Elodie exclaimed in exasperation, “can no one tell me what space-science weirdness is going on? Unless she is dead and God just makes magnets go funny.” “Magnetism,” Tina said simply, “and I could tell you a theory at least.” Elodie perked up, “go on then.” Tina met Elodie’s eyes, “but you have to promise me not to do anything with it. It would just be a theory and your sister would totally fire me if something happened to you.” Elodie nodded quickly, her skin prickling and mind feeling fully awake for the first time in years. “Tell me.” She held her breath.

“Well… I have a theory about the area, and what you just said about the light working weird and the disappearances and reappearances.” “Yes?” “It’s like what they say around the Bermuda Triangle. What they say about areas where, er.” “Where what?” She prompted, “is it…” She looked left and right, “aliens? I’m right about the aliens?” Tina scoffed a laugh, “no.” She smirked and got out a piece of paper, “but there is a theory about the multiverse.” “About the what?”

“That reality has many different dimensions, a multi-universe theory,” she explained while holding up the paper. “There are many planes of existence, and,” she brought the ends of the paper in half to make it bend in two. “They’re connected.” “You think…” Elodie struggled, “Romy is from another universe?” Tina laughed again and Elodie wanted to smack her. “Romy is from here.” She nodded, “but some people have a theory that there are… weak points.” “Weak points where they like, connect?” “Precisely,” she nodded, “and Romy was unlucky.” Elodie made a face and held her head, “I can’t believe. She’s stuck in, like our universe and the next?” “I don’t think so,” Tina said carefully, “I think she was much more unlucky than that. This is… very rare if I’m right.” “As in?” “As in, at weak points, people would normally just fall right through into some other realm.” Tina jabbed a hole through the paper with a pencil. “But Romy didn’t. She’s… stuck in an in between, maybe. A place between dimension where she can’t fully exist here anymore. Outside of time and space. Nowhere.”

Elodie bolted to her feet, sending her chair flying backward. She bent toward Tina, “how do we reverse it?” She asked hoarsely, “how do we get her back?” Romy didn’t deserve being stuck in a Nowhere place.

Tina adjusted her glasses and looked away, “I don’t know.” She said, her gaze folding inward. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Elodie searched the air, “could we drag her back?” Tina wrinkled her nose, “there’s no way of knowing. I’m sure the weak point is near those lavender fields, but if you go in then you’d be stuck there with her.”

Elodie clenched her hands and then starred decidedly at them, a place between dimensions. Nowhere.

Elodie turned around and grabbed at her purse, “thank you Tina. This was the most help I’ve gotten from anyone so far.” “Wait,” Tina reached for her, “promise you want try to follow this phantom.” Elodie focused on her and she relaxed, “why would I?” She said an almost ironic smile. “Your sister was just saying… you’ve been a bit, self-destructive as of late.” She said carefully.

Elodie took a deep breath, and then patted Tina’s shoulder. “Thank you Tina.” She repeated, “I have to go now.” Elodie ran out the door and walked all the way back to her house in the dark. No phantom showed up this time, but Elodie had a plan to make it so she would soon.

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

Elodie was in the living room lacing up her shoes, it was well-past 9 O’Clock by then and she had spent most of the evening at Tina’s house. She was ready for the next step.

She thoroughly tied up her hiking boots, they were one of the last gifts Carl had given her. She never used them before, but now she laced them up with the force of a small hurricane. She tugged and bared her teeth and kept everything else inside her blank.

“Elodie…” A cautious voice addressed her from across the living room, hesitant and shaking slightly. “Tina just called.” Elodie looked over her shoulder to where her sister stood in the kitchen doorway. “I know.” She said with a small smile.

“She told me… what you’ve been believing.” Elodie tightened her right boot, “Lea.” She said calmly, “I have a favor to ask.” “Please,” Lea put her hands up as if to defend herself from something, “hear me out. I know I’ve been harsh on you lately.” Elodie gave a crooked smile, “lately?” Lea returned a strained smile. “Perhaps… often.” Elodie laughed roughly at that, “but,” Lea bit her bottom lip anxiously, “I really do want to see you succeed. I don’t want to see this thing with Carl take a permanent toll.” “Thing with Carl?” She asked in a cold tone. Lea looked down at her shoes. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have… stopped it. Done more.” “You all warned me,” Elodie said with a wave, “he was a creep, and I would waste my youth on him.” She shook her head with a tutt, “but I’m leaving that behind me.” Lea blinked a couple times in a row, “you are?” “Yes.” Elodie finished tying her boot and stood up, “and you’re going to help.”

“Of course, anything,” Lea lit up in front of her for the first time in years it felt like.

“But!” Elodie jabbed a finger in the air, “you will have to leave the property.” Lea’s brow folded in, “I can do that.” She said hesitantly, though Elodie knew for a fact she hadn’t even gone to town herself in weeks at the very least. “What do you need little sister?”

Elodie gave a frail smile, “I want to help someone.” She said softly, “it’s been a long time since I actually helped someone I think.” Lea strode over to her and put her hand out, “I’ll help too then.” Elodie straightened up and took her sister’s hand, “get the kids.” She said with a blunt nod, “we’re going fishing.” “What?” Elodie just turned and dragged her sister to the door, “I know they’re not very strong, but I figure any muscle at all will help. Samuel’s getting pretty big, yeah?” “Wait, Elodie,” Lea pulled back, “you’re scaring me.” A smile shone on her face as she looked back toward her sister, she leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to her cheek. “I can’t explain yet.” She said brightly, “but you don’t have to worry about me. Not this time. I think I’ve worked it out.” She had not worked it out yet, but the look of relief on her sister’s face was worth it.

“You scared me you know,” she said with a sigh, “all those nights out late.” “I know.” She said solemnly and reached for the door, “I know I haven’t been… the most stable. But tonight I need you to trust me. Okay?” Lea’s expression softened, “okay.” “Good,” she lifted her chin up, “get the kids. I’ll go get the rope.”

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

They stole out into the first of the silver moonlight, it was almost ten now and a chill was whispering just across the land. The kids were bouncing in place as they followed their aunt and mother out into the night, Lea was not as pleased.

“What does the box say, auntie?” Margot was the most wide-awake of them, she always resented her bedtime the most.

Elodie glanced down at the black box, the electromagnetic reader, in her hand as she held it out, it kept flicking toward the red end of the spectrum. “Getting closer, little bug.”

“I can see her!” Samuel cried for the third time, “wait, no. Just a tree.” Their mother glanced worriedly between the three of them, it had taken at least ten minutes to gently coax her out into the fields at all. “I don’t like it out here,” she repeated softly, “what is the rope for Elodie?” It was rare for her sister to sound uncertain about anything, but Elodie shrugged that off in order to keep walking. “Don’t worry,” she said carefully, “I just need you to hold it.” They strode deeper and deeper into the endless lavender fields, and the machine’s beeping started to increase. Elodie held her breath.

“Go back!” A voice called out faintly. “Turn back, now!”

Elodie inhaled through her nose, “Romy.” She closed her eyes, “you don’t need to be afraid anymore. I know now. I know what happened.” There was a shimmering in front of her as she opened her eyes, but just a shimmer. “You can’t go any further.” She almost whimpered the words. “I can’t tell you-” “Romy,” Elodie held up her machine, “I’m coming.” And then they were standing in front of a normal lavender bush, and the machine was going crazy. Elodie looked at the bush more carefully and realized three things:

There was a bit of snow frosting the flowers

It’s shadow was cast slightly off

There was a girl standing in front of it with her arms out.

“No!” Romy was barely there, an overcast image or television signal that couldn't quite make it. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Elodie.” She whispered, voice coming from the wrong direction. “I shouldn’t have followed you. You just looked so sad. And, and-”

“It’s okay.” Elodie whispered back. “I’m glad you did.”

Romy went silent and her image flickered out of sight again.

Elodie tugged on the rope around her waist and tightened the knot. She handed the end of it to her sister and the kids, “remember, Margot, Sam.” She said with a wink, “show your mom how it’s done.” “Elodie?” Elodie turned to Lea again, who had gone perfectly pale. “I’m going to go help mom’s friend,” she said with a wane smile. “I think I really like her. I think you’ll like her too.” “You can’t-” Lea reached for her but Elodie was backing up.

“Trust me,” she mouthed, “and hold tight.” And then Elodie turned directly into a ghostly figure, “please.” Romy begged, “I don’t want this for anyone else.”

“Neither do I.” And then she leapt directly into the strange bush and slipped through something intangible.

It burned. Just like her hand did the first time she tried to touch something from “the Nowhere.” Her entire body surged with freezing cold ripples that set everything aflame, she tried to scream but the noise was eaten whole.

Pain surged through her from head to toe for another moment before it cooled into a nothingness. She tried to open her eyes, but there was nothing to open. She tried to move, but she couldn’t find the direction- she couldn’t remember what up and down used to look like.

Jumbled, wrong, things rushed at Elodie from every direction. A hand latched onto her shoulder and Elodie grabbed on to it.

There was no sound, no smell, no light, but there was the feel. Elodie sucked that shape to her, and then she was being yanked backward by her midsection.

The rope dug into her skin and her whole form protested against the snap of the rope.

Elodie held on with all her might to the shape connected to her, “let’s go home.” Elodie popped back into the pain and air, sizzling surged through her system and her insides tightened with the painful gasp for air of a drowning man. She was sweating from every pour and when she opened her eyes everything flooded into jarring focus.

“God,” she clutched at her chest, and then she felt someone wrapped around her- shaking.

Elodie turned slightly and it all came crashing down onto her head. A young woman was draped over her, she was blonde and spindly and her face was flushed and damp.

“Thank you,” she croaked hoarsely, “oh God, thank you.” “Romy?” Elodie’s heart sped up to that of a combustion engine and she twisted in place. “Are you okay?” She gently, slowly, and lifted a hand up to touch her warm and pulsing cheek. It didn’t hurt.

Romy sniffed and wiped at her swimming eyes- dripping with wet tears. “I’m here.” She breathed and sat back on her heels, “I think.” Elodie smiled brightly, “I think so too.” And then they are leaning forward and wrapping their arms around each other, trembling from head to toe.

“Is that the phantom?” Samuel whispered loudly.

“Is she gonna eat us now?” Margot piped up.

“Only if you’re bad.” Lea said irritably, of course she would be annoyed more than anything at the sight of dragging a girl back from the brink of Nowhere.

“Kids,” Elodie tilted her head up, “this is Romy Durand.” Romy turned to them weakly, “your aunt is a very brave person.” Her voice cracked as she said it.

“I’m not sure about that,” Elodie said in a small voice as they sat too close on the ground.

“Don’t be a fool Elodie,” Romy whispered into her ear, “that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. And can I tell you something?” Elodie nodded solemnly.

“Yeah.” Romy turned her face and pressed a damp, warm kiss onto her cheek. It was firm and a little sloppy, “I hoped it would be you.” Elodie blinked back her own tears and looked Romy in the face. They tipped their foreheads together and held each other’s gaze.

“I’ll buy you another orange.” She said in a hushed breath and Romy clung to her.

“You don’t need to.” Romy smiled wetly, “you’ve done more than enough.” Elodie leaned up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “you said you’d keep me company if I did. I’ll just have to keep buying them.” Romy reached for her hand, “I’ll follow you wherever you want.” She squeezed her fingers tight. They rose carefully to their feet, the family full of questions and prompts. Elodie raised a hand up, “wait.” She croaked, “Let’s go home first.”

And they walked back to the squat house in the rolling fields, past the swampy lake, and yellow grasses, and empty dirt road. They left the lavender fields and Romy cried the whole way back, she only spoke again as they collapsed into the upstairs bed.

“What if I disappear again?” She asked, trembling and weak.

They curled up on the bed together and Elodie pulled her close and felt her very real and pounding heartbeat against her chest. She wrapped her arms around the phantom, “then I’ll pull you right back out again.”

She nodded into her skin with a small smile they curled up around each other and didn’t let go.

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

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[gretchensinister]

An Archer, Of Course, Is Familiar With Loopholes

Right after TMA 173, Martin and Jon encounter two beings, neither people nor avatars, who’ve decided to take care of at least one part of the general awfulness that’s going on. Cameo by Helen. This IS a crossover and if you know me it probably IS what you expect.

***

The incident occurs shortly before Martin and Jon leave the domain of the Dark. They haven’t seen anyone for a while, nor anything that might have been anyone under better circumstances. But then, suddenly, they do. There wasn’t anything for the pair to have walked out from behind, no feature of the landscape that would have allowed it, but, well...it is dark. Though one of the pair is, in fact, shining, and it seems logical that they would have been visible from quite a long way off.

Oh well, stranger things, and all that. But the one that’s shining seems very much as though they shouldn’t be allowed, here. Their companion, on the other hand, seems as though they should be blending into the landscape, but they aren’t. There’s something not allowed about them, too, though they’re even darker than...well...the Dark.

Martin narrows his eyes, trying to make sense of them on his own, first. He doesn’t come up with anything. “Jon? Are those people, or what, that we’re approaching?”

“Not people,” Jon replies at once. “They’re—” He groans and presses his hands to the sides of his head. “Not avatars, either, but it’s—very difficult to explain.”

Martin is about to ask another question when the other pair gets within earshot...or something.

Was this what you were going for, though? If it was, I should have hit you harder.

The voice is soundless, manifesting directly in his brain, and that should be disturbing, like so much else about the world now, but instead it makes him...sleepy? He hasn’t needed to sleep since before, and now...this is real sleepiness. A real human sensation. It feels bizarrely good to have a normal human need again. He yawns hugely, and the shining figure (who he can now see is very short) gives him a dazzling smile. But no, not a human smile.

“You should have hit me harder anyway; I murdered you,” the dark one (the much taller one) says, and they sound so normal (aside from what they’re saying) Martin almost wants to laugh. “And no? I mean, this is all…” They take a deep breath and roll their shoulders. “I mean, I can’t deny that whatever we’re going to do here, it’s going to be very easy for me. I’m not going to have any power problems. But I do have standards! This isn’t really fun. And I respect blankets. It’s bad form, otherwise. So. No. I admit. No. Because I have standards.”

Anything else? The bright one gives him a cheeky grin.

“And because I have you, my dearest opposing cosmic force.”

They’re only a few meters away from Martin and Jon now, and when Martin looks over at Jon, he looks like he’s having the world’s worst headache. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t hold anything back about the question, and Martin feels the wake of it, wants to start explaining his part in this quest from the point he decided to lie on his CV. Only with effort does he manage to keep himself quiet, but even the effort doesn’t distract him from the little secret (as secret as anything can be, considering) thrill that always runs through him when Jon doesn’t hold himself in check, when he realizes how careful Jon is being at all other times. But the pair—the couple—sure, why not, stranger things, etc.—don’t react at all. As if they were simply unavailable to Jon’s power. When they do answer, it’s as if they’re people answering the question of an ordinary person.

Curiously, this doesn’t bring Martin any fear.

We just wanted to make sure you weren’t us, the bright one says. Certain parallels, certain depictions, the world full of fear—we had to check; it’s important to keep track of these things. I suppose there’s probably an us here, but they’re not you. They turn and looks up at the dark one. But also—well, you can explain this part, Pitch.

The dark one—Pitch—rolls their eyes. “Very well. I suppose I can’t worry about my reputation when I’m not even supposed to be here. Anyway. When we came here we could tell what was going on with the kids, and…yes, even from my perspective it’s not right, it’s no way to live. It’s all…too real. So I’m going to get them all out of here.” They put air quotes around the word “get.” “I’m the expert in that, you could say. And I will return them when they won’t be coming back to this.” They gesture around.  “When they come back maybe more of them will even stay put after being tucked in, eat their vegetables, etc. Though it’ll be somewhat complicated to teach anything after getting so many. Then again, it does feel like I’m a battery being charged by a supernova while I’m here, so. Maybe I will be able to do it.”

“Who are you?” Jon asks, and Martin now has the feeling that Jon isn’t being careful right now because he can’t, as if the presence of these two beings is like putting a powerful magnet next to some complex piece of electronics, making it go haywire. And this isn’t even going into any of the things they’ve said.

“I don’t actually have to answer that question, even when you do…whatever it is that you do,” Pitch says. They shrug. “I can’t actually tell what it is. So, as much as I love attention…I wonder, is it refreshing, to have someone just say no, when you ask something? Or does it make you…nervous?” They laugh. “I can’t tell, myself. Ordinarily I’d be able to. Turnabout is fair play, I guess. Anyway, we’re taking the children.”

Martin finally finds his voice. “How do we know where you’re taking them won’t be worse? To know all the kids would be…okay, for the duration…sorry, but it’s hard to trust that much of an improvement in things.”

Pitch turns to him. “Let me put it this way. I’m just as aware as your partner of what this world’s children are experiencing right now, and I have tens of thousands of years more existence-experience to understand it. Coming with me will be a distinct change in circumstances for all of them, and that change, by definition, is going to be an improvement.” They sigh. “Look, my place is mostly a horrible cave, but it’s got plenty of room and I can mold it into something livable fairly easily. The children won’t even have nightmares every time they sleep because my better half won’t allow it.”

Now, now, we can’t think of ourselves as two halves of one being, the bright one says. It makes the other Guardians more nervous than anything else we do.

“Guardians,” Jon mutters. “When I spoke with Gerry, he explained—was he wrong? Please answer, I—”

I’m sorry, the bright one says in their minds. Not in this world. Not in the same way. At least…no, I don’t know, I can’t tell. But there are more things possible than you understand. After all, Pitch and I were human once, too.

“And now look at you! Not even bothering with ear holes, or human proportions, or, well, a lot of human things, really.”

Helen is not really a surprise at this point, Martin decides.

Helen!

Though maybe the little bright one knowing her is, he amends.

“How did we manage to run into someone you already know here?” Pitch asks, sounding for all the world like a long-suffering introvert with an extrovert spouse.

Oh, you know, gold and yellow, dreams and madness. Dreamland has a lot of interesting neighbors.

On one level, Martin knows this could be important. If the new beings—and even Helen, really—keep talking, he and Jon might gain some more insight about the apocalypse. But Jon looks worse than ever, and since Helen is asking the beings why they didn’t bring her any sand, of all things, he’d really prefer this little tête-à-tête to wrap up tout suite. “We’re done here,” he interrupts, as forcefully as he can. Which he knows isn’t very, but…somehow it works this time. He wraps a supportive arm around Jon’s waist. “Look,” he says to the two beings. “I know I don’t understand all this, but you need to leave. I guess I believe you about the kids, that it really…couldn’t be worse. So…yeah. Don’t bring them back until it’s better.”

They both nod, and then the little one takes a sudden step towards him and Jon. “No, Sandy,” Pitch says, grabbing their shoulder. “You can’t touch them. If it did anything—you can tell it’s not allowed.”

Sandy (apparently) closes their eyes and sighs soundlessly. I know. It has to play out first. But it looks so unbalanced right now. They open their eyes and glance up to Pitch before fixing their gaze on Martin and Jon in turn. And yet. I wish you well.

“Well. Thanks,” says Martin. “But if that was the thing you do, I couldn’t feel it do anything.”

I guess I should’ve expected that.

“Come on, Sandy,” Pitch says. “Let’s get the kids.”

They walk deeper into The Dark, with nothing more said to Martin and Jon. Sandy doesn’t dim at all, despite what they’re going into, and Martin wonders a little bit more about what kind of powers he and Jon just couldn’t feel. Helen and her door goes with them, and Martin hears her say one last thing before the distance grows too much: “I won’t tell you not to worry, but Martin is one to watch, you know?” Whatever that means. At least Jon is able to support more of his own weight now, and seems less likely to have his head explode.

“Let’s start putting some distance between us and them,” Jon says, though he’s not yet standing on his own. “It wouldn’t matter, usually, but…I don’t want to know what they’re doing, and I think I can manage that the farther we are from them.”

“All right,” Martin says.

After a few minutes of walking (stumbling forward) and thinking, Martin muses aloud: “The way Pitch said ‘get,’ talking about nightmares, about kids staying tucked in, etc…like, were they just your bog-standard childhood boog—”

“Don’t say it,” Jon says. “I think I can forget that encounter and for the kids…I need to. We can’t talk about it. I can’t think about the potential existence of any other…kinder…world. Where they’d be the only one ever grabbing at anyone’s ankles from under the bed.”

“So we just assume that the situation with the kids is the same as how we left them,” Martin says.

“You can feel how easy it is to remember things that way,” Jon says. “If you let it happen.”

“Just tape over the last half hour?”

“Hah,” Jon says. “Exactly.”

[rhoeysama]

I had a weird dream last night, where Aerith and Vincent were a couple - and they came to live in my town, out of necessity. They told me that they had escaped from their world, and were in hiding, because they were both hunted, and left their world and came to mine “by accident”. But even so, they were convinced that they were still in danger, and the one hunting them was Sephiroth.

I helped them hide and arranged a place for them to live, which was in a penthouse apartment close to where I live. They had a little girl together, who was 2 years old (could walk and speak some words) and her name was Gaia. I babysat her sometimes, and she was not just lively, but she also possessed the ability to “hover”, and had figured out how to use it, which was a headache for her parents, and for her babysitter (me). Forget opening windows or the balcony door, because, well, I’d have a Peter Pan situation on my hands, minus the fairy dust...

Out of all the bizarre things in this dream (as you’d expect from any dream), the one thing that made complete sense, and that I liked a lot, was Aerith’s parenting; she was always affectionate, gentle, calm and patient, explaining things to her daughter, talking with her respectfully, showing her things, and not once losing her temper or raising her voice. She never treated that girl like she was dumb, either. I just marveled at her level of patience, even when her daughter threw a tantrum, because she very quickly managed to calm the girl down. A+ parenting! I wouldn’t expect anything less. :’)  

Vincent didn’t seem like he was a fan of PDA; whenever he would show any affection towards Aerith that involved a kiss or a hug, and I happened to be in the room, he would glare daggers at me, like silently saying that he wants me gone post-haste. He’s all about privacy, that guy.

I interacted more with Aerith in the dream than I did with Vincent; but she talked mostly about her role and duty as a mother, and that she wished to return to her world someday, but didn’t know if it was even possible, and certainly not safe, as Sephiroth would be targeting their daughter, and her safety came first. Aerith sounded sad and regretful, because there were many people she loved and cared about who she had to leave behind, but there was also a hopefulness and optimism there that only Aerith can pull off.

Vincent wasn’t the most talkative guy during my visit, and while he wasn’t rude or distrustful, he didn’t say much, and looked like his mind was occupied elsewhere; so was he most of the time, and it was basically just us three girls spending time together and enjoying ourselves.

Well, anyway, I thought it was an interesting dream, and wanted to share.

@chibikinesis​

[undermounts]

Bound—Chapter 12: Onward

AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: A long journey lies ahead.

Pairing: Gaius Augustine/Diana Leigh (BB MC)

                              Somewhere, 2042

Gaius was alive and whole—she had seen to it by checking his vitals three times over—and yet, Diana couldn’t bring herself to let him go.

She fussed over him, still sniffling hard and remembering how painful it had been to almost lose him, how terrified she was. Back in Copenhagen, with that last flick of her wrist, Serafine had trapped Gaius—perhaps unintentionally—his worst nightmare. But she hadn’t just trapped his mind, she had trapped his very essence, which meant if something happened to him in his dream…  

Diana wanted to start sobbing all over again whenever she thought of it. She knew she was being irrational, fretting over him like this, but it was the only thing that put her mind at east, reaffirming that he was alive, that their bond was not broken.

And Gaius, who was shocked to say the least at her visceral, but admittedly touching reaction, let her. Until he noticed the bolt still protruding from her knee, the wound bleeding all over the hay.

“God, Diana, your leg,” he gasped, leaning away from her touch so he could drag himself into a sitting position. His hands fluttered over the wound and he glanced up at her. “Will you stop being a… mother hen, as you said before, and let me get it out?”

Diana glanced down at her knee, blanching as if she had just remembered the injury she had taken. 

Now that her anger and adrenaline had faded and both using the Mercurian Compass and diving into Gaius’s mind had somehow left her drained, she knew this was going to hurt. She leaned back and nodded, forcing her breathing to slow.

Gaius shifted, gently setting her leg across his lap. He carefully gripped the bolt just above its sharp point; the fletching had snapped off after their jump from Copenhagen to… wherever this was. His eyes flicked up to hers. “This is going to hurt.”

Obviously, she thought, along with, Can’t be worse than going in.

Diana grit her teeth. “Do it.”

Gaius nodded and swiftly yanked the bolt out in one smooth pull. Diana swore, body tensing as blood gushed out—then stopped, the wound already knitting itself closed. Slowly, the pain ebbed away and Diana loosed a sigh of relief. Her fingertips found the Compass, crusted in her blood, and still hanging around her neck. Its power signature was faint, evidently drained for the time being. She glanced around, taking in the barn they had landed in.

They had been… transported here. Minutes ago, they were in Copenhagen, and now? Diana wasn’t even sure they were even in Denmark anymore. Diana dragged herself to her feet, spotting a thin stream of light that poured through the giant barn doors. She cracked the door open, peering out.

Green pastures were stretched out before her, several animals lazily grazing beneath the bright sun. A small house sat on a hill about a mile away and snow-capped mountains towered in the distance. A chilly wind swept through the barn door, invigorating and taxing all at once as she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Diana was about to explore and attempt to get a sense of their surroundings when the floor tilted beneath her and she stumbled.

“Easy, diviana.” Gaius reached out, grabbing her shoulders to steady her as she sunk to her knees, hay crunching beneath them. His eyes drifted to the amulet and they narrowed as if he could sense how it had drained her. Then he glanced outside, pursing his lips. “We’re going to have to wait until nightfall to go anywhere anyway, and you should rest.”

Diana wanted to protest, but even her legs felt shaky beneath her. They searched the barn for a place to hide until dark, occasionally shooing away any curious hens that nipped at their ankles. Diana found a ladder, nearly hidden behind boxes of feed that led up to a hay covered loft that appeared to be used for storage.

“Well, this isn’t as nice as the hotel I had,” Diana sighed as Gaius climbed up after her and surveyed the space. He huffed in agreement, then set about peering into the crates and sifting through the contents. The best he could scavenge was a thick wool blanket that he spread over the hay to create a place to comfortably lay, although “comfortable” was a generous description.

Diana gingerly sat down, pulling her knees to her chest as she flicked a piece of straw off of the corner of the blanket. She wrinkled her nose and rubbed her arms for warmth. “I’m pretty sure this is a horse blanket.”

“Gotten used to Manhattan luxury?” Gaius lifted a brow, pinching the fabric between his fingertips before shrugging and lounging on his back beside her. “You’ve slept on worse.”

“Yes, but I am paying for better. Back in Copenhagen,” Diana grumbled, as she picked at a loose thread on her shirt. Her attention strayed to the Mercurian Compass and she cupped it in her palm, scrubbing away some of her dried blood. 

“So that thing really transported us here,” Gaius noted, propping himself up on his elbow as he studied the amulet over her shoulder. 

Diana slowly nodded, chewing her lip. She gazed down at her palm, healed but still crusted in blood from when Serafine had cut it. “Yeah. When Serafine reached for it, I covered it with my hand and…” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’ve touched it before, but it’s never reacted like that. I think it needed a blood connection.”

“To you specifically, or anyone?”

“Anyone, I think.” Diana dropped the amulet back beneath her shirt. “When it spoke it me, it didn’t sound like it knew me or anything like that, so I imagine anyone could use it—”

“It spoke to you?” Gaius’s voice was incredulous behind her.

“Yeah. It was… bizarre. Like a… chorus of voices.” She shivered, but not from the cold this time as she remembered the amulet’s ancient whisper. “It asked me where I wanted to go, but it wasn’t giving me enough time to choose. Its power was already pulling me away, so I just told it to take me somewhere safe.”

Gaius made a thoughtful sound. “Most enchantments are incredibly specific. When you let magic make its own evaluation, things could end poorly. But it looks like we got lucky.”

“Yeah…” Diana echoed, glancing around the loft. Motes of dust lazily floated in the air, circulating on a draft that entered through the gaps in the wooden walls. Diana craned her neck to glance over her shoulder at Gaius, who was half reclined on his elbow, idly tracing shapes on the blanket. “How are you feeling?”

His gaze met hers, eyebrows lifting. He reached out, pinching the fabric of her sleeve and tugging until she lay down beside him. “I’m alright,” he replied, fingertips barely brushing her cheek as he swept a lock of her hair away from her face. His lips curved. “You saw to that. Thank you. For stopping me.”

Diana swallowed, glancing down to his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. She swallowed hard. “That was awful. The bond—I…”

She felt his gaze on her as he waited patiently for her to find the words. His fingers traveled from her hair, skimming down the length of her arm, and she closed her eyes, suppressing a shiver. 

“Gaius, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared for someone else in my entire life. When I saw you collapse on the ground in front of Serafine…” She shook her head. “I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what I would have done if we hadn’t left Serafine behind,” Diana breathed, her admission hanging in the air between them. 

Gaius’s hand stilled on her arm, then after a long moment, resumed its path, trailing along her knuckles. “It was probably the bond. It confused my well-being with yours so you were especially driven to protect me.”

Diana nodded, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Not for her. 

“I’ll be on my guard more,” Gaius said, more to himself than her. “Reinforce my mental shields so something like that doesn’t happen again.”

Diana didn’t respond, content to lay there quietly, drawing on the comforting warmth of the body beside her as she watched Gaius’s finger lazily trace shapes on the back of her hand.

“Tell me something,” he murmured.

Diana’s brows drew together. “Like what?”

“Anything,” he replied, breath ghosting over her forehead and stirring fine wisps of her dark hair. “Something good.”

Diana thought for a moment, automatically sifting through her archive of memories when Gaius shook his head. “I just want you to tell me about it, Diana. Talk to me.”

He did not know what that did to her, the way her stomach flipped in response.

“Anything,” he whispered, and Diana could have sworn there was a plea in his voice.

“When I was younger,” she began, not really thinking, just sharing the first thing that came to mind. “I wanted my parents to have another baby. I begged them, every day. I mostly wanted a little sister so I could dress her up and we could be princesses together. But I told my parents I would settle for a baby boy, even if little brothers were gross and annoying.  Because above all, I just didn’t want to be alone.”

 Diana felt Gaius’s gaze burning on her skin as she watched his chest rise and fall, breaths steady and even.

“I know now why my parents never had another kid,” she went on, turning her hand over so Gaius’s finger skimmed along the inside of her palm instead, tracing the lines and curves. “My mom didn’t think she could handle another child considering how painful her visions were. She already thought she wasn’t being a good enough mother to me, and her headaches only got worse as I got older. It must have been hard on my dad. I know he always wanted more. But he loved us so much that we were enough.”

“Did you get used to it, then?” Gaius asked quietly. “Being alone?”

Diana considered that for a moment, folding her other arm beneath her head for a cushion. “Used to it, yes. But I never enjoyed it. So whenever I made friends…” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I did my best to keep them.”

Gaius hummed thoughtfully. “That would explain your unrivaled tenacity.” 

He was teasing her, but there was a hint of fondness in his tone. 

She smiled slightly. “Yes, well, I’m fortunate to have found people who want to stay.”

“You miss them,” Gaius stated, his finger trailing from her palm to the inside of her wrist, hovering over her pulse. “Everyone back in New York.”

“It’s not so bad,” Diana replied and as she said it, she realized it was true. “I thought it would be worse, being out here all alone. But…” She shrugged, trailing off.

“But what?” he breathed.

Diana drew her gaze up, biting the inside of her cheek. “But I’m not alone.”

Gaius’s brows drew together, and for a moment, the expression that crossed his face looked pained. “Diana…”

“I know things between us don’t always make sense,” Diana whispered, her voice wavering slightly. “And you’re still punishing yourself for what you’ve done. But you’re my friend, Gaius. Truly. I don’t know if I could have handled the last few weeks had you not been with me.”

Now he truly looked wounded, lips pulled into a frown and eyes pleading, as if he were begging her to stop. “Diana, I don’t deserve that. You know this.”

She turned her hand over, sliding her fingers along his palm to grip his forearm. She felt his pulse echo against hers. “That’s not how friendship works. Not with me. It’s not earned, it’s given. You don’t have to accept it, Gaius, but I—”

“I do,” he choked out, fingers tightening around her forearm, and Diana felt a wave of emotion roll over her, so intense and muddled she couldn’t tell her feelings apart from hers. “There is nothing you could give me, Diana, that I would not accept.”

She wasn’t sure she was breathing properly, her chest so full it might explode.

Diana stared at him for several long, weighted seconds. Then, slowly, so as not to startle him—or even herself—she inched towards him, releasing his hand to set hers against his sternum. His chest barely moved beneath her palm as she wedged herself beneath her arm and nestled her head against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” she questioned, noticing the way his body was still tense against hers. Maybe she had overstepped, misread the situation. Perhaps when he had said there was nothing he would not accept, he meant intangible things, like opportunity and companionship, not… this.

But then, just as cautiously as she had come to him, his arm curved along her spine, fingers splaying out across her ribcage. His other arm was draped across his stomach and Diana felt her nerves jump as he tilted his head, jaw pressing against the crown of her head.

This was… a lot at once. It felt like she had arrived at a precipice and was teetering over the edge. It was both thrilling and terrifying in ways she had yet to comprehend. Diana found herself wondering, not for the first time, why everything had to be so complicated with him.

The dizzying speed at which her thoughts whirled around her head combined with her hyper awareness of all the places they touched was too much and Diana stepped back from the edge, reigning herself in before she spun out of control. “This is only because it’s cold and sleeping in a barn is uncomfortable.”

That was a lie. That was such a horrible, damn lie. It tasted vile on her tongue, but it was safer than the truth, which was that she wanted to be close to him. More than anything. She tried to quiet the thoughts that insisted this still wasn’t close enough.

She couldn’t explain why. This wasn’t a thing normal people who were on the verge of friendship did. But then again, they weren’t normal people—not even in the slightest. Normal people weren’t bonded the way they were. Perhaps that was why her blood sang when she fit her body against his, as if even her bones knew they were fated to rest next to his.

But she couldn’t explain that to him. Her confusing feelings were the last thing he needed to worry about, especially when he was still trying to dig himself out of a hole carved by three thousand years of sin. No, the lie was better. Even if it made her feel dirty inside.

Gaius’s breath halted, just for a fraction of a second, and Diana wondered if he sensed falsehood of her words too.

“Mhm,” he simply said, the sound reverberating through his chest and into her fingertips. After a moment, he sighed, his thumb absently brushing over one of her ribs. “We should probably get some sleep, diviana. We might be in the middle of nowhere for all we know and will probably have a long night of walking ahead of us.”

No sooner had he said that, Diana yawned, nodding against him. As she closed her eyes, feeling herself warm with their combined body heat, she asked, “What does that mean? You said it once before. Diviana.”

Gaius was silent for a beat. When he spoke, Diana could hear the fatigue in his voice as he murmured, “Just a derivation of your name.”

“What does it mean?”

When he didn’t respond, she craned her neck up to see his face, but he was already fast asleep. Diana rolled her eyes but settled against him. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed her too.

                                 The barn door swung shut, drawing Diana’s attention from where crouched on the ground rifling through the one duffle bag she managed to grab before the Compass transported them out of Copenhagen. She looked up as Gaius walked it, wiping his hand on the back of his mouth.

“Satisfied?” she asked, piling her clothes back into the bag atop the amphora.

Gaius nodded, sifting a hand through his hair. His face was flushed, color high in his cheekbones from feeding, a healthier hue than the gray pallor it had been earlier this evening. He stood behind her, peering over her shoulder at their meager supplies. All they had was the baseball bag containing their swords, Diana’s backpack which contained a refillable water bottle, a few granola bars, and the wool blanket, and her duffle bag, which was essentially useless for their trek back to civilization but also the only thing the amphora would fit inside.

“It’s not much, but we’ve dealt with less before,” Gaius sighed, slinging the sword bag across his back and hefting the duffle onto his shoulder, leaving Diana with her backpack. “Any idea where we are?”

Diana shook her head, holding up her phone. “My phone died after the Compass jumped us here, so I can’t get a pin on our location. The amulet probably drained its energy when it fed on mine,” she sighed, tossing it into her backpack. “This is going to be a fun story to tell Jax once I get it charged. After he finishes yelling at me.”

Gaius let out an amused huff. “It’s just because he cares. And he knows how reckless you are.”

Diana shot him a look that was both offended and disturbed. She shouldered her pack and stood, scrunching her nose in distaste. “Don’t… do that.”

“Do what?” They slipped out of the barn, firmly closing the door behind them as they made for the dirt path that led to an old country road.

“Sympathize with Jax,” she grimaced, batting away a horsefly that buzzed by her ear. “You’re right, but it’s… unsettling. You two don’t like each other.”

“I don’t… dislike him,” Gaius grumbled, swords clanging together as they came to a stop at the edge of the road. They looked up and down the road, neither direction showing any indication that civilization lay beyond.

“You don’t like him either.” Diana retorted studying the road. “Should we just… pick a direction and stick with it?”

Gaius shrugged wordlessly and Diana scowled. Seeing her expression, he scowled back. “What?”

“You’ve been alive for three thousand years. All of that life experience and you don’t have any advice on what to do?” She put her hands on her hips, gaze unwavering. This—arguing with him—she could do with ease. It didn’t warm her blood or make her chest feel tight. The lines were clear, and they would have to hold.

“This might come as a surprise to you,” Gaius snapped, rolling his eyes. “But I don’t make a habit of getting lost in the middle of nowhere.” He glanced around at the countryside, huffing. “I’ve seen a thousand mountains and pastures. After a while, they all start to look the same. So, no. I don’t have any sparkling advice for you. Just pick a direction, Diana, and follow it.”

Grumbling to herself, Diana re-evaluated the road. To the left, the road curved, not offering much aside first glance aside from the mountains in the distance. To the right, there were more rolling plains and a whole lot of nothing. She sighed and turned left, taking the mountain pass.

                                After hours of walking in bored silence, Diana was starting to wonder if maybe they should have gone in the other direction when they came to a fork in the road. A small signpost marked the divide, pointing down one of the roads. In white scripted letters, it read:

Zermatt

64 KM

Gaius huffed. “Zermatt. So we’re in Switzerland.”

Diana felt her face settle into a glower, unable to even marvel at the fact that she was in Switzerland for the first time because she kept glaring at the numbers on the sign. “How many miles is 62 kilometers?”

When she glanced over at him, he looked equally unhappy, his jaw clenched, eyes unamused. “Around 38 miles.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Diana groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. “38 miles to the nearest town?”

“Evidently.”

“We won’t make it tonight, even if we run.” Diana peered up at the moon, which had already reached its apex in the sky. “There’s about six hours left before dawn. We’ll have to make camp somewhere and finish the rest of it tomorrow night. Maybe we should try using the Compass.” She ran her finger along the amulet, but its presence was weak.

“And end up in the middle of nowhere again?” Gaius raised a brow, his eyes narrowed. “I think not. Besides, if it drains you as much as it did last time—”

“Fine. I get it,” Diana cut in, throwing her hands up in frustration and starting off down the road in the direction of Zermatt. “Onward, then.”

Diana didn’t look, but she knew he was smirking at her.

After a few minutes had passed, Gaius spoke up. “Tell me something.”

Diana looked at him sidelong, adjusting the straps of her backpack. “Why?”

He tilted his head, gaze flat. “Would you prefer to continue in silence for another six hours?”

Diana wanted to snap back, but she loosed a long breath and shook her head. “What do you want to know about?”

“Anything.”

“That’s not very specific.” She pushed her hands through her hair, fingers getting caught in knots. She drew out a piece of hay and frowned, imagining—not for the first time—how nice it would be to shower again. “There’s a lot of things I could talk about. Boring things. Random things.”

“I don’t mind,” Gaius replied. When Diana glanced at him, she found that he wasn’t looking at her or even the road ahead, but the sky. Diana had been so focused on the road, she hadn’t even noticed how many stars were out, or even how gorgeous the scenery around them was. The dirt road overlooked a valley, bordered on both sides by majestic mountains, their peaks coated in snow. A river wound through the basin floor, a sparkling ribbon of moonlight amidst towering trees. Diana took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of ice and pine. 

Well, she conceded. As far as 40-mile hikes go, we could certainly be in worse places.

Diana clicked her tongue as she thought. Why was it that whenever someone wanted to pick her brain, she never had anything interesting to say? Well, he did say ‘anything.’

“I love peaches,” Diana shrugged, rubbing her arms for warmth. It wasn’t the most exciting fact, but she didn’t exactly feel like delving into her memories to spin some grand tale.

Gaius’s brows rose. “Peaches.”

Diana nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Back in my childhood home, my neighbors had this peach tree that partially hung over the wall into our backyard. They said whatever crossed the wall was ours to take. I used to spend my summers sitting alone by our pool, eating peaches and reading books.” 

She smiled fondly and breathed deep, letting the cool air wash over her. “If I try hard enough, I can still feel its stickiness on my hands. Smell the chlorine in the air. Sometimes, the days were so hot, I would burn my feet on the concrete, so I would splash it with water. For some reason, I never thought to put on shoes.”

When Diana finally trailed off, she glanced over at Gaius and felt her lungs constrict upon realizing he was already looking at her. A small smile graced his lips, his head tilted at a curious angle.

Diana felt heat rush to her cheeks and she pursed her lips. “What is that look for?”

“Nothing.” Gaius shrugged, turning away to watch the road ahead of them. Diana caught the knowing glint in his eye as he said, “I just think I’ve started to figure you out, Diana Leigh.”

Diana blinked at him, her footsteps faltering. What did that mean? She hadn’t said anything particularly revealing, had she? They had spoken about far more important things than peaches. 

Diana regained her stride, resisting the urge to sigh once again as she caught up with him. Perhaps Gaius thought he was beginning to understand her better, but Diana was getting the feeling that no matter how much she learned about him, she would never know enough.

She supposed she had an eternity to find out.

                                When the sky turned from black to gray and color slowly started to leech back into the world, they finally set up camp a little ways off the road and in the surrounding woods, using the wool blanket they had slept on the day before as a makeshift canopy to block out whatever rays of sun the surrounding foliage didn’t catch.

Diana spread out articles of her clothing across the forest floor to provide something to rest on, sparing only the sweatshirts they layered on for warmth in the cool climate. She no longer cared how soiled her clothes got; she would just have to buy new things to wear when they stocked up on the rest of the supplies they’d lost. 

They huddled around Gaius’s blue fire as they rationed out the granola bars and drained half of her water bottle in an attempt to fill their empty stomachs, trading small facts about their favorite things as they did.

When it was time to settle down, Gaius extinguished his flame, leaving them exposed to the morning chill. Diana watched as he laid himself down on the bed of her clothing and chewed her lip, gathering her courage once again. She made her way over to the makeshift bed and felt some of her nerves ease as he looked up at her and held his arm open.

“For warmth,” he said, and Diana nodded. 

The ground was not comfortable. Diana felt every rock and twig that pressed into her side through the layers of clothing. She shifted several times, grimacing as she tried to get settled. “When all of this is over,” she muttered, “I’m going to find the softest bed to ever exist, and sleep in it for days.”

Gaius loosed a soft laugh that stirred her hair. He didn’t seem bothered at all by their conditions. “This reminds me of the days before I ran into you in Aosta.”

Diana looked up at him. “You slept outside often?”

His brow furrowed. “I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t always have cash to pay for a hotel room and when I was travelling…” he shrugged. “It was easier. I had a tent and sleeping bag in my pack.”

Diana smirked. “Looks like I grabbed the wrong bag.”

Gaius’s lip curled as he settled back and closed his eyes.

Right then, Diana thought, resting her head against his shoulder and preparing to give into the ache in her bones when she caught a gleam of light from within the shadows of two shrubs.

She narrowed her eyes, casting out her senses as the leaves rustled, parting to reveal—

The Black Shuck.

Diana stiffened, momentarily thinking to reach for her sword, but she forced herself to still. The shadow hound merely peered at her from the edge of their makeshift camp, silver eyes luminous. As Diana stared back, she felt a connection form and sensed its intent to protect her once again. Diana followed its gaze to Gaius, who was not yet asleep but had not noticed their visitor. Swallowing, Diana met the Shuck’s eerie stare once more and slowly dipped her chin. Safe.

As if it had sensed her thoughts, the shadow hound retreated a step, then dissipated on a phantom wind. 

Diana let out a long breath, equal parts relieved that she had averted the conflict and that the Black Shuck was alive and undeterred by their last encounter. For some reason, it still thought she was worth protecting. A weight Diana didn’t know she had lifted from her chest.

Perhaps she could still do things right after all.

                                Notes: Diviana means “the shining one.”

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