#noises are noticeably quieter & less distracting

[viksalos]

anyways i'm on new psych meds that are kinda sorta serving their nominal purpose of turning down the anxiety BUT more importantly have like 90% solved my chronic pain issues cus it turns out they were due to nerve damage and not actually anything wrong with my organs lol. so that's basically why i've been on here less; don't need to be on social media as much to distract myself from the pain. i will still check in occasionally tho cus i miss you all <3

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - M

I submitted my abstract for a conference. If my abstract is selected, I'll be going to Ireland for my first-ever conference!

My nurse friend said, "If anyone gets hit their solar plexus by you, they'll die." when I just asked if a person could faint if punching their solar plexus... What kind of image do you have of me?

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part N | Part O&P | Part Q | Part ? | Epilogue

Warning: Depictions of blood, violence, abuse, and may be disturbing to some readers

The bustling capital city was alive with noise and energy, an enticing distraction from the quieter life in the realm. You had hoped to wander the market with Agatha and Rio by your side, basking in their steadying presence, but the timing hadn’t worked in your favour. Both had been busy with pressing matters, leaving you to venture out alone.

Agatha needed to return to her homeland for specific magical ingredients, and her sharp tone left no room for negotiation. "I’ll be back by evening," she had promised, her blue eyes softening just a fraction as she brushed your cheek. "Be careful while we’re gone, doll."

Rio had been equally regretful but no less occupied. Dressed in foreign attire of flowing black fabric and a wide-brimmed hat, she had smirked, the transformation elegant and effortless. "Diplomatic business," she’d said with a playful wink, though her dark eyes held a trace of seriousness. "Keep yourself out of trouble, pretty lady. I’ll know if you don’t."

You had nodded, smiling faintly, already missing them.

The market was usually a place of discovery and joy, but it felt emptier without them. Still, you had decided to make the best of it. The thought of welcoming them home with small gifts had given you a purpose—a basket of sweets for Agatha, who loved them almost as much as she loved teasing you, and a collection of the reddest, ripest apples for Rio, who could never resist their rich flavour.

As you moved through the bustling stalls, your hooded robe concealed your face, the fabric heavy but necessary. The fear of being recognised, of your grandfather’s people spotting you, never fully left your mind. It was suffocating at times, but the safety the robe provided was worth it.

As you wandered through the market, the vibrant colours of fruits, spices, and sweets briefly distracted you from unease. You ran your fingers along baskets of candied treats, selecting a variety of Agatha’s favourites with a small, fond smile. The glistening, blood-red apples you found shortly after seemed to glow under the sunlight, and their vivid hue reminded you of Rio’s piercing gaze. You added them to your basket carefully, imagining her delighted expression when she saw them.

Despite the constant weight of vigilance, these small moments of normalcy gave you a sense of peace. The hood shielded you from wandering eyes, and the thought of returning home with tokens of your affection for them made it all worthwhile. For now, that was enough.

But the warmth of your plans turned icy when you noticed the unease in the market crowd. It started subtly—lingering glances, averted gazes—but soon grew impossible to ignore. The whispers followed low murmurs you couldn’t quite catch but could feel prickling the back of your neck.

Your steps slowed as you approached a noticeboard near the edge of the market. A small crowd had gathered around it, and despite the warning bells in your mind, you edged closer, curiosity overtaking caution.

Your breath caught as your eyes fell on the poster. There, staring back at you, was your own face—a precise portrait that left no doubt. Beneath it, bold text displayed your name, noble title, and the promise of a generous reward for information leading to your location.

Your heart dropped.

The world seemed to blur around you as panic set in, your thoughts racing. Every glance from a stranger felt sharper, every whisper louder. The gift basket in your arms felt like a foolish weight, but you clung to it as your only anchor.

Trying to steady your breathing, you looked down at your trembling hand, willing yourself to summon magic. Agatha’s lessons flickered in your mind, and you tried to channel the energy you had practised with her and Rio. But unlike Agatha’s vivid purple haze or Rio’s confident green glow, your hand only produced a faint blue mist that fizzled out almost instantly, leaving you feeling more helpless than before.

You couldn’t stay here. You pulled your hood tighter over your head and turned away from the noticeboard, your steps quickening as fear gripped your chest. Every sound and every movement in the market felt magnified, your eyes darting to catch any sign of recognition.

The ambassador’s office. You needed to get to the black gate. You needed Agatha and Rio.

Before you could return to the safety of the ambassador’s office, a rough hand clamped over your arm, yanking you into a dark, narrow alley. Panic surged as your body twisted instinctively, trying to see the face of your attacker, but the shadows obscured their features.

Before you could conjure even a flicker of magic in your trembling hands or summon the courage to cry out for help—be it from an animal or a passing stranger—a thick cloth was pressed against your mouth and nose. The overwhelming, sickly-sweet smell of the fabric invaded your senses, and you realised too late what it was.

Your heart pounded, every fibre of your being screaming to resist, to fight. You kicked out wildly, but their grip tightened, rough and unyielding.

"Tsk, what a troublesome young lady," a voice muttered, low and gruff, the words dripping with irritation. Before you could process their meaning, a sharp blow struck your solar plexus, the force so brutal it left you gasping. The air was knocked out of your lungs, and darkness crept into the edges of your vision.

The bags of food you had bought—the sweets and apples meant for Agatha and Rio—fell from your hands, tumbling to the ground in a messy scatter. The vibrant red apples rolled away, smudged with dirt, while the neatly wrapped sweets spilled out of their packaging. It was a small, heartbreaking detail that somehow made everything feel even more cruel.

Your limbs grew heavier with each passing second, your struggles fading into futile jerks. The last thing you remembered was the rough texture of the alley wall against your shoulder, the sight of the gifts you’d dropped lying abandoned in the dirt, and the unbearable weight of helplessness as your consciousness slipped away.

---RAR---

You stirred, your body aching and disoriented, feeling the rough, uneven floor beneath your side. Something coarse and thick was tied over your mouth, muffling your breathing, and your chest still throbbed faintly, a dull pain that flared when you shifted.

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting as dim light filtered into the space around you. Through the slivers of light squeezing in through the gaps, you could make out your surroundings: a building full of old, unused farm tools and scattered objects coated in dust, forgotten by time.

With effort, you inspected your body, noticing your legs were bound tightly and your hands were tied behind your back. You shifted, testing the restraints, and an unsettling familiarity crept over you. This place…you knew it. The rough walls, the faded wood, and the scent of earth and disuse—it was a storage building at your family’s estate. Memories flickered to life; you and your sister playing here as children, hiding among the old tools and giggling as you avoided chores.

The realisation made your stomach churn. They had brought you home.

You tried to sit up, wincing at the tightness in your limbs, the ropes digging into your skin. Crawling was a struggle, but you managed to inch toward the door where the faint light seeped through the cracks. As you neared it, the light was suddenly blocked, replaced by the sound of approaching footsteps. Panic gripped you, and you stilled, heart racing, desperately feigning unconsciousness.

But it was too late. The door creaked open, and blinding daylight flooded the room. You blinked rapidly, your eyes adjusting to the brightness, and then you heard it—a voice you knew too well.

"Finally," your grandfather’s low, gravelly voice growled, filled with a seething anger that made you tremble.

Your chest tightened as he stepped inside, his silhouette cutting an imposing figure against the light. He had been searching for you all this time, never giving up. You wanted to shrink under his gaze, but you forced yourself to look up, defiant. His cold, piercing eyes bore into you, and for a moment, his fury was a physical weight pressing down on you.

"You disgraceful child," he spat, his voice rising. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Running away like a coward, hiding like filth? And now…this!" His words hit like blows, but what made you freeze was what came next.

Your defiance faltered, confusion flashing across your face.

This?

Before you could ask, his words cut through the air like a blade.

"A child," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "An illegitimate bastard growing inside you! Staining the name of this household!"

The word hit you like a thunderclap. Pregnant. Your body froze, your mind spinning as you tried to comprehend. How could he know? Then it clicked—a doctor. He must have had a physician check you while you were unconscious.

A whirlwind of emotions quickly replaced the shock, disbelief, fear, and a strange, growing awareness deep within you. Pregnant. You didn’t even have time to fully process it before the first slap landed across your face, snapping your head to the side and sending you sprawling onto the hard floor. Your lip split under the impact, and you tasted the metallic taste of blood.

He towered over you, seething with rage. "Do you know what I’ve endured because of you?" he yelled. "The royal family humiliated me, and now I have to clean up this mess you created!"

He grabbed you roughly by your arm, dragging you upright, only to strike you again and hurled you down. Pain flared across your face, the stinging sensation overwhelming. But as his furious tirade continued, your focus shifted inward. You became acutely aware of your body, of the small life he claimed was growing inside you. The idea felt surreal, but your instincts kicked in before your thoughts could catch up.

With your hands bound tightly behind you, you desperately tried to retreat, your legs scraping against the rough floor as you struggled to crawl backward. The uneven surface bit into your skin, but you didn’t care—your only thought was to get away from him. Your trembling body moved inch by inch, instinct driving you to put as much distance between you and his looming figure as possible.

His voice followed you, dripping with venom. "Crawling away like the disgrace you’ve become? Do you think you can run from this?"

You didn’t answer, focusing entirely on escape, though your bound limbs made it a hopeless endeavour. The light spilling through the door flickered as his shadow grew larger, and before you could react, a sharp, searing pain erupted in your back. His boot connected squarely with your spine, the force knocking you flat onto the floor.

The impact drove the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as fresh pain radiated through your body. You whimpered, curling instinctively to shield your abdomen, your bindings biting into your wrists as you twisted in desperation. His scoff rang out above you, cold and unfeeling.

"Pitiful," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "And still, you protect that bastard child. As if that will save you." He leave you as and left the storage with rage.

The ache in your back spread, but it was nothing compared to the fire in your chest. You clenched your teeth, your trembling body staying curled over your abdomen, silently defying him despite the agony that consumed you.

In the darkness of your mind, one thought screamed louder than all the pain: I must protect my baby.

You stupidly thought it was over. But it was far from over. Your body trembled uncontrollably as you heard the heavy thud of approaching footsteps. A moment later, an angry yell cut through the air, halting the steps. "Father, that’s enough!" Your father’s voice rang out, loud and commanding in a way you had never heard before.

You squinted through the haze of pain, your blurred vision slowly adjusting to the sight of your father stepping into the doorway. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tightly, but his eyes burned with determination as he moved closer, placing himself between you and your grandfather.

"She’s your granddaughter," he said, his voice trembling with anger and desperation. "You’ve punished her enough."

Your breath hitched as your eyes fell on the large sword clutched tightly in your grandfather’s hand. The gleaming blade, though worn with age, still carried an unmistakable air of danger. It was then you realised, with chilling clarity, that the lord of the household had retreated not to collect himself but to arm himself.

He had retrieved the sword not to intimidate but to act—to maim, or worse, to kill you by his own hand.

The weight of that realisation sent a cold shiver down your spine, freezing you in place. Your body, already weakened, trembled with the effort to remain upright. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening as your grandfather’s icy gaze met yours.

"She is no granddaughter of mine," he snarled, his voice filled with venom. He raised the sword slightly, the blade catching the dim light and reflecting it back like a cruel promise. "She’s a disgrace, and disgrace has no place in this family."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, pressing down on you as your trembling body struggled to retreat further. But your father didn’t move aside. He stood firm between you and your grandfather, his arms slightly raised in a protective gesture.

"Father, please!" your father shouted, his voice trembling with fury and desperation.

Your grandfather sneered, his grip tightening on the sword in his hand. "Do you intend to defy me?" he asked coldly, his voice quieter now but no less menacing. "You forget your place. I am the lord of this household. The spymaster to the king. Or has that title lost its meaning to you?"

You froze, his words cutting through the haze, clouding your mind. Spymaster. The realisation hit you like a blow. It explained everything—his calculated manner, his ruthless control, his pointed interest in "Lord Rio." He hadn’t entertained the foreign ambassador out of hospitality; he’d been assessing her, evaluating her for reasons far more serious than you had ever realised. The truth of his identity hitting you anew, your mind replaying every interaction and every calculated word he’d spoken in the past. This wasn’t just a man consumed by rage. This was a man who wielded the power of the crown’s secrets, a man accustomed to controlling everything—and everyone—around him.

"She had disgraced this family," your grandfather continued, addressing your father as though you weren’t even there. "Her actions jeopardise everything I have built. She has brought shame to our name, and I will not allow such betrayal to go unchecked."

Your father’s fists curled tightly at his sides. "Betrayal?" he repeated, his voice cracking with fury. "What betrayal? Falling in love? Running from a life she did not choose? You have treated her like a pawn her entire life—like we are all just tools for your ambition. But this—this is madness!"

Your grandfather's eyes narrowed, his cold expression sharpening. "You think you are righteous, do you not? Do you think your sentiments hold any weight here? Let me remind you, boy. Everything you have, everything this family is, is because of me. I built this legacy and will not watch it crumble because of her."

Your father didn’t back down. "Take it all, then," he said quietly, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "What does that title mean if it drives you to do this? To treat her as if she is not family—your own blood? I will not stand by and let you destroy her. You have already destroyed our family enough. "

"Family?" Your grandfather’s sneer deepened, his piercing eyes narrowing. "She has disgraced this family. Running off, pregnant with an illegitimate child, and flaunting her shame as though it is something to be proud of." He raised the sword slightly, his intent clear. "I’ll not have this stain tarnish what I have spent a lifetime creating."

The father and son glared at each other in heavy silence, the weight of unspoken defiance hanging thick in the air.

Lighter, faster footsteps broke the tense silence. Your sister appeared, her face pale with shock. "Grandfather, stop this!" she cried, rushing into the room to stand protectively in front of you. "You can’t hurt her anymore!"

"Move, girl," your grandfather ordered, his voice like ice. "This is not your place."

But your sister stood firm, her jaw set and her eyes burning with defiance. "It is my place," she shot back, her voice  unyielding. "She’s my sister, and I won’t let you hurt her again!"

Your grandfather’s expression darkened, the lines of his face deepening with rage. Your grandfather’s rage boiled over. He stepped forward with a furious growl, the sword in his hand gleaming menacingly as he raised it slightly. "Do not test me, child," he warned, his voice low and ice-cold. "Disobedience will not be tolerated."

Your father moved to intercept, his hand gripping your grandfather’s arm to stop him. "Father, stop!" he said, his voice strained but resolute. "You’ll destroy this family with your madness!"

Your grandfather wrenched his arm free by roughly shoving your father to the ground, his fury intensifying. "It is you and your failure as a father that have brought this disgrace upon us!" he spat, his venomous gaze flicking between you and your sister. "If you will not restore order, I will."

Your sister’s knees shook, but she refused to move, her determination unshaken even as the tension in the room reached its breaking point. For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own laboured breathing, the pain in your body overshadowed by the chaos unfolding around you.

Your grandfather raised the sword high, ready to strike. Your father lunged forward, but in the chaos, everything became unbalanced. And somehow, despite the searing pain in your body, you found the strength to move. Your legs, still bound, propelled you forward on instinct.

Your body screamed, dragging yourself between your sister and the descending blade. The world slowed as the sharp edge tore into your back. Your eyes locked with your sister's widened eyes. Pain, unlike anything you’d ever felt, exploded through you, radiating outward in a searing wave.

Your body crumpled to the ground as screams filled the air. The sharp metallic scent of blood overwhelmed your senses. Your sister’s wailing cry and your father’s panicked shout barely registered over the roar of pain. You felt the world dimming, your vision blurring as you curled instinctively to shield your abdomen.

The crash reverberated in your ears as the storage building groaned under the pressure of whatever had caused the disturbance. Shouts of alarm mingled with the eerie hum of magic that seemed to fill every corner of the building. You felt the vibrations through the floor, each a drumbeat pounding against your trembling body.

Then, they appeared.

Agatha’s silhouette emerged first, framed by a violet glow that cast long, jagged shadows against the walls. Her hair whipped around her face as if caught in a tempest, her blue eyes burning with an unnatural intensity—tendrils of purple magic crackled and twisted around her hands, hissing like serpents ready to strike.

Behind her, Rio strode in, her dark eyes blazing with fury. Her presence sucked the air, her steps deliberate, exuding power and danger. Her eyes scanned the storage, landing on you briefly before hardening as they returned to your grandfather. She didn’t speak, but her presence alone was a promise of retribution.

Rio moved swiftly, her sharp features softening as she knelt beside you. "I’ve got you, love," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly as her hands began to glow with a faint green light. She pressed them gently to your back, her magic surging into the wound in an attempt to heal it. But the damage was too severe. Her jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face as the blood refused to stop, the warmth of your body slipping away with every passing moment.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please."

As Death, her healing magic was naturally weaker than others, a cruel irony that gnawed at her now. She cursed under her breath, her brown eyes darkening as she poured every ounce of strength into the effort. But the bleeding persisted, and your hand grew colder with each passing second.

"Enough," Agatha’s voice sliced the thick tension like a blade, cold and commanding. The power in her tone sent a shiver down your spine, and even your grandfather, who had been so sure of his control, hesitated. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. Agatha stepped forward, her boots crunching against the scattered debris on the floor. The purple glow surrounding her illuminated the room in flickering light, casting an almost ethereal quality to her presence. Her sharp gaze didn’t waver as she stared your grandfather down. "You’ve done enough damage," she said, her voice low but dripping with venom. "And now you will answer for it."

Your grandfather, ever defiant, straightened his posture despite the tension in his jaw. "Who are you to barge into my household and speak of damage?" he spat, his voice shaky yet laced with anger. "This is my family, my bloodline. She is mine to discipline."

Agatha laughed coldly. "Yours?" she echoed, her magic flaring brighter, sending sparks into the air. "She’s not yours. She never was. You’ve treated her as nothing but a pawn in your games of power, but that ends now."

Rio’s voice cut through, low and dripping with menace. "You think you can beat her, maim her, even kill her, and call it discipline?" Her darkened eyes glinted dangerously, but her touch was a stark contrast—gentle, almost reverent, as she caressed your cheek. Her magic pulsed faintly, flowing into your battered body like a soothing current, assuring you that, despite everything, you would survive. Her gaze flicked back to your grandfather, her tone darkening further. "That ends today."

Your father, caught between terror and awe, stammered, "Who���what are you?" His voice cracked as his gaze darted between Agatha’s purple fury and Rio’s emerald soothing energy.

Agatha turned her head slightly, her eyes flicking to him with disdain. "We are the ones who will undo the damage you allowed," she said, her words laced with judgment. "And if you truly care for your daughter, you will stay out of our way."

Agatha turned her full attention to your grandfather, her expression cold and merciless. The purple tendrils of her magic coiled tighter around him, constricting his throat. His bloodied sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground as the force of her magic lifted him into the air. He clawed desperately at the invisible grip, his face reddening as his breath grew shallow.

"You… monster!" he rasped, his voice barely audible through the choking force.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, the glowing blue intensifying as her fury radiated through the building. "Monster?" she echoed. "You dare call me a monster? After what you’ve done? Look at yourself,"  her voice low and venomous, each word cutting like a blade.

Her magic crackled violently, the air around her heavy with unrelenting power. The walls seemed to shudder in response, the building groaning under the sheer weight of her rage. "You beat her and tried to kill her—and for what? Your pride? Your ego? Tell me, who is the real monster here?" Her words hung in the air, heavy and damning, as the tendrils tightened further, forcing a strangled gasp from his lips.

"Agatha," you croaked weakly, your voice trembling. Despite the overwhelming pain, you forced yourself to meet her gaze. "Please… don’t…"

Her magic flickered as her expression wavered. She looked at you, her hands trembling. "You don’t understand," she said, her voice cracking. "He doesn’t deserve to live."

"Agatha!" Rio’s voice cut through sharply, her tone laced with urgency. "She’s lost too much blood. We need to go—now!"

Agatha hesitated, torn between her rage and your plea. But your weak, teary gaze was enough to break through. The magic around your grandfather dissipated, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. Agatha turned back to you, her expression a mix of guilt and anguish.

Agatha dropped to her knees beside Rio, her hands already glowing with purple light. Her rage was momentarily set aside as she focused on you, her touch surprisingly gentle as her magic intertwined with Rio’s green glow. The energy washed over your body, soothing some of the pain and stabilising you, though the amount of blood loss and the deep exhaustion remained.

"You’ll be fine," Agatha murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her fingers brushed your hair from your face as she worked, her sharp eyes narrowing with determination. "We’ve got you."

Rio, still kneeling, glanced up at your family, her expression cold and unreadable. "We’re taking her home," she announced sharply, her voice a chilling contrast to her tender hold on you. "If any of you even think about coming after her again, you’ll regret it."

Your grandfather, who had been gasping for breath moments ago, steadied himself. Despite the magic that had subdued him earlier, his rage burned hot and unrelenting. His lips curled into a sneer, his eyes darting between Rio and Agatha with venomous hatred. "You think you can take care of her?" your grandfather snarled, his voice trembling with fury. "A girl carrying an illegitimate bastard that isn’t your blood?"

The words echoed in the air like a curse, each syllable sinking heavily.

Agatha’s magic faltered for a heartbeat, the crackling tendrils of energy flickering as her sharp blue eyes snapped to your grandfather. Her hands froze mid-motion, the deadly rage in her expression giving way to something unreadable. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet, a cold edge making it cut through the tension like a blade.

Rio’s entire body stiffened, her arms instinctively tightening around you as though to shield you from the weight of the revelation. Her dark brown eyes widened in shock, the fury momentarily replaced with stunned disbelief. "Pregnant?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the humming of residual magic in the air. She lowered her gaze to you, her expression softening as if searching your face for confirmation.

Yourr trembling hand moving to rest protectively over your abdomen. "I didn’t know…" you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. "I only found out because of him."

Rio’s gaze flickered from your tear-streaked face to your grandfather, her shock quickly morphing back into a smouldering rage. Her lips curled into a snarl, and her grip on you tightened. "You knew she was pregnant," she growled, her voice low and venomous. "And you still hurt her?"

Agatha’s expression darkened, the flicker of hesitation vanishing as her magic roared back to life, more violent and volatile than before. The tendrils snapped and coiled like vipers, wrapping around your grandfather once more and dragging him higher off the ground. His gasps turned to choking wheezes as her power constricted his throat.

"You knew," Agatha said, her voice a deadly whisper that vibrated with barely contained fury. She took a step closer, the air around her crackling with energy. "You knew she was carrying a child—our child—and you still did this to her?" Her voice rose, each word sharper and more venomous than the last. "You are beyond redemption."

Rio shifted her focus back to you, her features softening as she caressed your cheek gently, her touch a stark contrast to the fury burning in her eyes. "We’re taking you home," she said firmly, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and protectiveness. "You’ll never have to face this bastard again."

Agatha, however, didn’t move. Her magic grew brighter, more intense, as her rage consumed her. "This ends here," she hissed, her voice filled with a dark finality. "He will never hurt you again. He will never hurt anyone again."

"Agatha," Rio called sharply, her voice cutting through the haze of power and fury surrounding her lover. "Not now. She needs us more than we need revenge."

Agatha hesitated at the mention of you, her glowing blue eyes flickering to you. Her expression softened for a fleeting moment as she saw the exhaustion and pain etched across your face. But then her gaze snapped back to your grandfather, and her fury reignited. "He doesn’t deserve to live after what he’s done," she growled.

"Agatha…" you croaked weakly, your voice barely a whisper but enough to draw her attention. Your tearful gaze locked with hers. "Please…. I just wanna go home."

Her magic faltered again, the tendrils loosening slightly as your words pierced through her anger. Agatha clenched her jaw, and the internal struggle was evident in how her hands trembled and her eyes flickered between you and your grandfather.

Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, she let the magic dissipate. Your grandfather crumpled to the ground, coughing and gasping for air, his face pale and drenched with sweat.

"Your pitiful life has been spared—for now," Agatha spat, her voice laced with venom as she stepped back with disdain.

Rio adjusted her hold on you, her eyes blazing as she looked over your family. "This is the last time any of you will see her," she said coldly.

Your sister stood frozen in shock, her wide eyes flicking between you and your lovers, while your father looked torn, his mouth opening as if to speak but no words coming out.

As Agatha and Rio carried you out, you felt your strength slipping away, the world around you fading into a blur of light and shadow. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the resolute determination on their faces—a silent promise that they would protect you, no matter the cost.

[l0v3tast3]

Could you do how cod men+könig would reach to hearing reader sing for the first time ,like reader could be like cleaning or something just minding her own business and they walk in to her singing to her self

this request was so adorable to write omggg (⌒ω⌒) thank u for requesting this anon i rlly liked it hehe !! i hope you enjoyyy <3

✎ tags: gn reader, uber amounts of fluff!

✎ word count: 600 words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

♡ simon "ghost" riley — simon won't really admit it, but the first time he hears you singing, he thinks it's the most soothing sound he's ever heard. it could literally be the most off-key tune there ever was but he doesn't care, he'll want to hear it again and again. when he comes out of the kitchen to get the last of the dishes from dinner to wash, simon finds you singing quietly to yourself as you wipe down the table. he'll just stop and literally hide behind the wall so you won't see him and stop. when you come back into the kitchen, he'll be pretending to wash the last of the dishes he has, but you'll start catching him listening in on you more and more after that.

♡ john "soap" mactavish — johnny will have the windows of his truck down and the music nearly vibrating the car, singing (poorly) at the top of his lungs because it always makes you smile and laugh when he does. it becomes your routine on any drive longer than twenty minutes- you'll chastise him that someone's going to make a noise complaint or there'll be a police car around the next corner to pull him over, but you're the one turning the music up when he does it. johnny won't push you to sing along with him after you tell him you don't have the best voice, but when a slower song comes on and you start quietly singing along to it, he's grinning from ear to ear and memorizing the sound. you'll notice how he puts on quieter songs a lot more often after that, but you don't say anything about it.

♡ kyle "gaz" garrick — kyle hears you singing for the first time when he gets home early from some errands. he'll be lugging in some bags while you've got your music on somewhere in the house, the voice he loves hearing so much drifting through the house. he'll approach as quietly as possible to keep hearing it, and as soon as you notice he's home he's complimenting your singing, telling you that you should definitely do that more often. it's not rare after that for him to ask you to sing for him; whether he can't sleep or you're just together lazing around, he'll take any opportunity to hear you.

♡ john price — john will be working in his home office, the door propped open slightly while he's filling out reports he couldn't care less about. he's basically hoping for something to distract him when you walk down the hall, quietly singing the song that's been stuck in your head all morning, and john has a little smile on his face while he follows behind you to see you reorganizing something in the living room. he'll lean against the wall and listen until you notice he's there. when you startle and stop singing, he just laughs a little and tells you to go on; if you don't, john will play a song of his own on his phone and sing along with you to it, dancing around the room with you standing on his feet.

♡ könig — könig will absolutely not let you know that he's heard you sing. the first time he does is when he gets out of the shower and is making his way across the house back to you. you'll be singing along to your favorite song while you put away clean dishes, and könig will stop in his tracks and listen until you're done, making sure you don't see him while you do. despite his lack of verbal acknowledgement, könig will start endlessly complimenting your voice, how he loves the sound of it and everything you have to say, until you start knowingly singing around him.

[earthlybeam]

Hi! Can you please do the secret crush story with Haldir?

how would the elves react to this?

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Haldir Version below. (You and haldir well secret have a crush but either of you acted till now.)

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

➳ The great hall was alive with warmth and laughter, a sanctuary of festivity against the biting cold of the winter night. The towering stone walls glowed in the golden light of flickering torches, their warmth mirrored by the crackling hearths scattered throughout the space. Garlands of evergreen and bright red ribbon adorned every archway and pillar, while the rich aroma of roasted meats and mulled wine mingled with the faint sweetness of honeyed cakes. The room buzzed with life, the air filled with the lively hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. But Haldir barely noticed any of it. He sat with you in a quieter corner of the hall, where the distant hum of conversation faded into the background. Normally, this quieter space would have been a refuge for him, a place where his usual composure could remain intact. But tonight, Haldir was decidedly not composed. Not even close. It wasn’t the noise, or the revelry, or even the rich aroma of food and wine distracting him. No, it was you—seated beside him, as animated as ever, speaking a mile a minute with your voice bubbling with enthusiasm. Your hands gestured dramatically as you shared a string of anecdotes and observations, barely pausing for breath. Haldir, normally an attentive and patient listener, was struggling to keep up—not because your words were dull, but because he wasn’t hearing them at all.

➳ Your voice was a melody he usually loved to hear—bright and full of life, a sound he had come to associate with warmth, with you—but tonight, he barely heard the words. Instead, his attention kept slipping away, drawn again and again to the small sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. It swayed gently, its green leaves and white berries catching the soft glow of the firelight, taunting him with its quiet, insistent presence. Mistletoe. The thought of it sent a tremor of uncertainty through him, so unlike his usual composure. Haldir was always poised, his sharp mind steady and controlled, but now he was a mess of swirling thoughts and restless tension. He couldn’t focus on the endless stream of words flowing from your lips. He couldn’t think past the question that had lodged itself firmly in his mind. Should I kiss you? His gaze flickered back to you, tracing the curve of your smile, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement as you recounted yet another tale. You were utterly captivating, as you always were, and utterly oblivious to the storm raging within him. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat echoing in his ears as he tried to summon the courage to act. For months now, he had danced around his feelings for you, always keeping them carefully contained, hidden beneath layers of restraint. And yet, here you were—beneath the mistletoe, no less—and the weight of those feelings was threatening to break free.

➳ “And then, of course, they tried to convince me that it was my fault!” you exclaimed, laughing at your own story. Haldir blinked, realizing too late that you were waiting for some kind of response. “Right?” you prompted, your smile widening as you looked at him expectantly. “Indeed,” he murmured, the word slipping out automatically, though his tone lacked its usual confidence. He wasn’t even sure what he had just agreed to. You didn’t seem to notice his distraction, diving right into another story, your hands gesturing animatedly as your words poured forth without pause. Haldir’s lips twitched into a faint smile—half-amused, half-exasperated—as he watched you. He admired the way you threw yourself into every conversation with such enthusiasm, but tonight, your endless chatter was driving him to the edge of his patience. Not because it annoyed him—no, never that—but because it left him no room to speak, no opportunity to act.

➳ How could he possibly tell you what he was feeling when you wouldn’t even stop talking long enough for him to try? His eyes flicked upward again, to the mistletoe, before settling back on you. He had tried to hint at it, subtly glancing toward the sprig in the hopes that you might notice. But you hadn’t. You were too lost in your stories, too wrapped up in your excitement to see the way his hand fidgeted restlessly on his knee or the way his gaze lingered on your lips just a moment too long. Haldir drew a quiet breath, his jaw tightening with resolve. Enough, he thought. If he waited for you to notice, he’d be here all night—and perhaps every night after that. The thought made his heart ache. No, he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to do something.

➳ “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low and steady despite the storm of nerves beneath it. You paused mid-sentence, blinking up at him with a curious tilt of your head. “Yes?” For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Your expression was open and trusting, so utterly unaware of the weight of the moment. His heart hammered in his chest as he leaned in slightly, testing the waters. His hand lifted slowly, brushing against yours—just the faintest touch, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity racing up his arm. You didn’t pull away, but neither did you seem to notice the tension coiled between you. Instead, you opened your mouth to speak again, ready to launch into yet another story.

➳ But Haldir didn’t let you. Gently but firmly, he reached up, cupping your cheek with his hand, his touch reverent as though afraid you might vanish if he moved too quickly. The motion startled you into silence, your lips parting slightly as your gaze locked onto his. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes now, a storm of emotions carefully hidden for so long but finally breaking free. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, his touch as soft as the whisper of a breeze. And then he leaned in, closing the distance between you in one smooth, deliberate motion. His lips found yours, hesitant at first, but warm and soft, lingering as though he was savoring the moment. The kiss was gentle yet firm, a quiet declaration of everything he hadn’t yet said, of everything he had been holding back for so long. For a heartbeat, you froze, caught completely off guard. But then, as the warmth of his lips and the steadiness of his hand anchored you, the initial surprise melted away, replaced by something deeper, something undeniable.

➳ Your hands moved instinctively, one brushing lightly against his arm while the other found its way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling gently in his hair. You leaned into him, returning the kiss with a quiet intensity that matched his own. Haldir’s hesitation began to fade, his lips moving against yours with a newfound confidence, a silent promise in every touch. When he finally pulled back, it was slow and deliberate, as though he didn’t quite want to let go. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he searched your gaze. His normally composed expression was softened, his blue-gray eyes unguarded in a way you had never seen before. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as though grounding himself in the reality of the moment. You stared at him, breathless, your voice finally—finally—silent your lips parted slightly, your eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something softer��something that made his heart skip a beat. For the first time since the evening began, you were silent. “Haldir,” you murmured softly, his name falling from your lips like a whispered prayer. A faint blush rose to his cheeks as his lips curled into a soft, almost bashful smile. But his gaze never wavered from yours, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet but steady, his words carrying a quiet, unshakable resolve.

➳ Haldir swallowed hard, the faintest trace of color rising to his cheeks as he dropped his gaze for a fleeting moment before lifting it back to yours. When he spoke, his voice was soft and unsteady, betraying a rare vulnerability. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his words barely louder than a whisper, “but you left me no other choice. You… you wouldn’t stop talking.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and the blush deepened along the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His usual composure was entirely absent, leaving him looking both earnest and utterly flustered. You blinked at him, caught off guard by the admission, and then a light, breathless laugh escaped you. “Wait,” you said, grinning as you tilted your head, “are you telling me you kissed me just to get me to stop talking?”

➳ Haldir’s lips parted, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, his blush deepening further. He glanced to the side as if gathering his thoughts, then returned his gaze to yours, his expression a mix of embarrassment and hesitant honesty. “Perhaps,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost shy, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “But that is… not the only reason.” Your breath caught at the soft, halting confession, the weight of his words sinking into your chest. His hand slipped from your cheek to hover near yours, his fingers fidgeting ever so slightly before brushing against your own in a tentative, almost nervous motion. “The truth,” he added, his voice dropping lower as he met your gaze fully, “is that I have wanted to kiss you for some time. I just… I was unsure if you’d welcome it.”

➳ His words, so earnest and tinged with quiet vulnerability, made your heart skip a beat. You stared at him, your eyes tracing every detail of his face—the slight blush staining his usually pale complexion, the way his lips were pressed together as though he wasn’t sure what you might say next, and the rare, almost boyish nervousness in his usually calm, commanding gaze. Haldir was the picture of elven grace and composure, always collected and sure of himself, and yet now he seemed uncharacteristically unsure, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet, vulnerable hope that made your chest tighten. When you finally found your voice, it came out soft and teasing, though it carried an undeniable warmth. A smile curved your lips, lighting up your expression as you leaned in just enough to close the already small space between you. “Well,” you murmured, your voice low and inviting, “if that’s the case, you should definitely kiss me again.”

➳ Haldir’s breath hitched audibly at your words, his sharp elven ears catching every nuance of your tone. His eyes widened just slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face as though your invitation had truly startled him. For a heartbeat, he seemed frozen, his normally swift reflexes faltering as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. You felt a rush of affection for him in that moment—this proud, composed elf reduced to speechlessness because of you. And then, just as quickly as the surprise had come, his expression softened. His eyes held yours, a mixture of relief and quiet joy filling their blue-gray depths. The corners of his lips tugged upward into the faintest of smiles, one that spoke of wonder and a hesitant sort of confidence. His fingers, which had been brushing tentatively against yours, grew bolder as they threaded carefully through your own, his touch warm and steady despite the slight tremor you could feel in his hands. “Are you… certain?” he asked, his voice softer than you had ever heard it, almost trembling with the weight of his emotions. His gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, as though he was memorizing every detail of your expression, his blush deepening even further. Your smile widened, and without hesitation, you gently tightened your fingers around his, grounding him in the moment. “Completely,” you replied, your voice unwavering, your eyes shining with affection. The sheer certainty in your tone seemed to melt away the last of his hesitation.

➳ Haldir exhaled a soft breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he leaned in once more. This time, there was no hesitation in his movements, no second-guessing the way he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours again, warm and firm, but this time with a quiet, growing confidence. The kiss was deeper, more certain, as though he was finally allowing himself to give in to everything he had been holding back for so long. From your perspective, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a warmth that far surpassed the fires burning in the great hall. The way he kissed you—gentle yet insistent, with an almost reverent care—made your heart race. You could feel the faint blush lingering on his cheeks, even as his hand cupped your face again, his fingers lightly brushing against your jaw in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

➳ For Haldir, the kiss was grounding and exhilarating all at once. Every touch, every press of your lips against his, felt like a revelation. The warmth of your hands in his, the way you leaned into him so trustingly, made his chest tighten with an emotion so profound it almost overwhelmed him. The restraint he had held onto for so long melted away, replaced by a quiet, unspoken promise in the way he kissed you now, his lips moving against yours with a growing fervor. You felt his confidence build with every passing second, the way his movements became surer, more assertive, and yet there was still that ever-present tenderness in his touch. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a declaration of everything he hadn’t yet found the words to say. And yet, it wasn’t hurried or rushed. Haldir seemed intent on savoring the moment, on committing every sensation, every detail to memory.

➳ When the kiss finally broke, it was slow and deliberate, as though neither of you quite wanted to part. Haldir pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting lightly against yours as his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle arc along your skin. His breathing was slightly uneven, his usual composure still shaken, but his expression was soft, unguarded in a way that was utterly unlike him. You stared at him, your own breath coming faster, your heart still racing. His eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, but beneath the sharpness of his gaze was a vulnerability that made your chest ache. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet, almost a whisper. “I have wanted to do that for far longer than I can say.”

➳ His blush deepened as the words left his lips, the faint pink staining his pale complexion contrasting beautifully with the calm strength in his tone. You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, your smile softening as your fingers brushed lightly against his. “Well,” you murmured, your teasing tone returning as you leaned closer, brushing your nose against his in a playful gesture, “if that’s the case, then I think you should keep going.” Haldir’s lips parted slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction before his expression softened into something that could only be described as utterly adoring. A soft chuckle escaped him, low and warm, as he dipped his head again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was deeper still, filled with an assurance that made your knees weak, and as you melted into him, you felt the world around you fade entirely.

[niallerspayno]

We'll Be Alright - Chapter Thirteen

Masterlist

The day begins in a hush, the hotel’s private dining area bathed in the soft light of early morning. The hum of coffee machines and the clink of silverware provide a soothing backdrop as you take your seat at the long table. The boys, worn out from the night before, are quieter than usual—except for Louis, of course. He’s already trying to balance a precarious stack of croissants on Zayn’s head while Harry records the chaos, his muffled laughter only encouraging Louis further.

You find yourself between Liam and Niall—Liam on your left, his steady, calm energy a comforting anchor, and Niall on your right, a quieter but no less commanding presence. Every time his knee brushes yours under the table, it sends a jolt through you, sharp and distracting. The first time, you think it’s an accident. The second time, you notice the way he keeps his eyes trained on his plate, feigning indifference, and realize it isn’t.

You try to focus on the conversation, the meal, anything but the awareness prickling your skin every time he shifts beside you.

The vans arrive soon after breakfast, and you pile in with the rest of the group. The ride to the venue starts off subdued, the boys half-asleep until Louis bursts into an off-key rendition of What Makes You Beautiful, complete with dramatic flourishes. Laughter erupts, shaking off the morning’s haze, and by the time you arrive at the arena, the mood has lightened considerably.

Still, you can’t shake the subtle tension that lingers between Niall and Liam.

When it’s time for your rehearsal, Liam joins you on stage for your duet. The vast, empty arena feels cavernous, the seats stretching out endlessly, but the weight of the space doesn’t intimidate you—it inspires you. The melody flows between you and Liam effortlessly, each note building on the other like waves crashing in perfect rhythm. His voice is rich and steady, grounding you as you sing, and for a moment, it’s just the music that matters.

As the final note fades, Liam turns to you, his expression warm and sincere. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

His words make your cheeks heat, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, laughing nervously. “I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Niall leaning against the side of the stage, his guitar slung lazily over his shoulder. He’s watching you both, his expression unreadable, though the weight of his gaze settles heavily on you.

After soundcheck, the group breaks for lunch. The dining area is a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the clatter of dishes, but the noise feels overwhelming. You excuse yourself, slipping away to wander the quiet halls of the venue until you find a small balcony. The city stretches out before you, a sprawling maze of streets and buildings, the distant hum of traffic rising up to meet the breeze.

You lean against the railing, letting the cool air brush against your face. For a moment, you close your eyes, trying to breathe through the weight of everything—Liam, Niall, the tour, the impossible choices pulling you in opposite directions.

The door behind you clicks softly, and when you turn, Niall steps out, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He doesn’t speak at first, just leans against the railing beside you, his presence both steadying and disarming.

“You’ve got a habit of disappearing,” he says finally, his voice light but tinged with something deeper.

You glance at him, offering a small, wry smile. “You’ve got a habit of finding me.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can’t help it. You’re hard to miss.”

The silence between you stretches, filled with the distant hum of the city and the soft rustling of the breeze. He’s close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne, a warm, woodsy note that makes your chest tighten.

“I saw you with Liam earlier,” he says, his tone quieter now. “On stage.”

The mention of Liam sends a ripple of guilt through you, sharp and unrelenting. “It’s just a duet,” you say, too quickly.

Niall’s blue eyes meet yours, steady and searching. “Is it?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken, and you don’t have an answer. He leans back slightly, his hands gripping the railing as if grounding himself.

“I’m not trying to make this harder for you,” he says, his voice softer now. “I get it—you’re still figuring things out.”

“Niall—”

He shakes his head, cutting you off gently. “Let me finish.” He hesitates, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to yours. “That kiss last night? It wasn’t just a moment for me. It meant something. You mean something.”

His words are like a punch to the chest, raw and unfiltered. You feel the weight of them settle over you, heavy and unrelenting.

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his fingers brushing yours where they rest on the railing. The touch is light, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver up your spine.

“I’m not asking you to choose,” he says softly. “I’m just asking you to let me in. To give this—whatever this is—a chance.”

His gaze drops to your lips, and your breath catches as he leans in. When his lips meet yours, it’s slow and deliberate, his hands framing your face with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. This kiss is different—full of quiet desperation and unspoken promises.

You lose yourself in him, in the warmth of his touch and the way he feels against you. The cool breeze fades, replaced by the heat building between you, and for a moment, everything else disappears.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin.

“Take your time,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “But don’t keep me waiting forever.”

You nod, unable to form words as a storm of emotions swirls within you. He steps back slowly, his fingers lingering on yours before he lets go.

When he disappears through the door, the cool breeze feels sharper against your skin, but the warmth of his touch remains, seared into you. You stay on the balcony a moment longer, the city stretching out before you, though all you can think about is the way his voice trembled when he said you meant something.

...

The show that night is electric. From the moment you step onto the stage for your opening set, the crowd’s energy surges, a tidal wave of sound and light that lifts you higher with every beat. The adrenaline sharpens your focus, every note ringing out clear and strong as you move across the stage. The audience feels alive, a living, breathing entity feeding off your performance, and for a while, it’s just you and the music.

When it’s time for your duet with Liam, the atmosphere shifts, the arena erupting in cheers before you’ve even sung the first note. As the music begins, you find Liam’s gaze, steady and warm, grounding you amidst the chaos. The lyrics weave between you like threads of something unspoken, each line heavier than the last.

When his hand brushes yours during the chorus, it feels deliberate, the touch sending a spark that lingers in the air between you. The moment stretches, fragile and consuming, until the roar of the crowd reminds you where you are. But for that brief second, it’s like the rest of the world has disappeared, leaving only him.

Later, as the band takes the stage, the spotlight shifts to Niall. His familiar, easy smile glimmers under the stage lights as he introduces Better Than Words. “This one’s for someone who’s got my head spinning these days,” he says, his voice playful but laced with something deeper.

Your breath catches when his blue eyes flicker to you, the brief connection hitting you like a jolt. The song takes on a new weight, every lyric feeling sharper, more pointed, as if it’s meant just for you.

By the time the boys close the show with Best Song Ever, the tension between Niall and Liam is almost tangible. The fans, oblivious, cheer louder, swept up in the euphoria of the performance. But backstage, the buzz of post-concert energy is laced with an undercurrent you can’t ignore.

You stick close to Harry and Zayn, laughing at Harry’s recounting of Louis’s latest antics. The chaotic rhythm of the crew moving around, the hum of conversation—it all feels distant when you catch sight of Niall and Liam in the far corner of the room.

Niall stands with his arms crossed, his expression tight, while Liam’s posture is rigid, his hands planted on his hips. Even from a distance, their tension ripples through the room like an unspoken warning.

Your stomach knots as you excuse yourself from Harry and Zayn, your steps slow and cautious as you approach.

“…she deserves to hear it from me,” Niall says, his voice low but firm, slicing through the noise around you.

“And you think blindsiding her is the way to go?” Liam counters, his tone calm but edged with frustration. “We’re supposed to be supporting her, Niall. Not making this harder.”

“She’s not a kid, Liam. She can handle the truth,” Niall shoots back, his words sharper now but carrying no malice—only the weight of something raw, barely contained.

“Guys,” you interrupt, stepping between them. Their words halt instantly, their eyes locking onto you. The air around you feels thick, charged with tension. “What’s going on?”

Liam exhales heavily, running a hand over his face. “It’s nothing. Just… a disagreement.”

Niall scoffs, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, let’s call it that.”

Your frustration flares, the pressure of the moment pressing down on your chest. “This isn’t fair. To either of you—or to me.”

They exchange a glance, something unspoken passing between them like a silent challenge.

Liam is the first to soften, his expression shifting as he looks back at you. “You’re right,” he says, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t your fault. It’s ours.”

Niall’s gaze drops to the floor, his shoulders tensing. “Yeah. I’m sorry too. I just… I needed to say some things.”

You take a shaky breath, the weight of their conflict settling over you. “I care about both of you,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady. “But I can’t do this if it’s going to tear you apart.”

Liam steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm in a gesture that’s both comforting and grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises, his brown eyes steady, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you like a shield.

Niall looks up, his blue eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that catches you off guard. “We’ll figure it out,” he echoes, his voice softer, as if the words are meant just for you.

The tension lingers even as they step back, their figures retreating into the chaos of the room. You stand there, caught in the weight of everything unsaid, the hum of backstage activity a dull roar in your ears.

Your chest feels heavy, your thoughts racing in a loop you can’t escape. As you glance toward the crowd of people, the laughter and noise swirling around you, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of something vast and unsteady, unsure which way to step next.

Next chapter

[jahayla-parker]

Her Faithful Protector : Conrad Fisher x Reader

Part 1

Descr.: Part 1, 4.8k wc, see series link below for full description. This part’s theme: before y/n and Con get together

Warnings: see series link below for warnings.

Her Faithful Protector Series Navigation

Conrad watched closely as y/n walked along the empty shore. It was well past midnight when he had heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Earlier, Conrad had noticed y/n seemed quieter than usual today. As such, he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach when he heard the noise.

Conrad’s panic prompted him to leap up from his bed and quickly throw on a hoodie. He had made his way to y/n’s room, knocking lightly before opening the door. Conrad was hoping the sound was coming from her bedroom door and not the back door. The sinking in his stomach only worsened when he saw y/n wasn’t there; she’d left her bedroom despite the late hour. Given that y/n wasn’t still in the hallway when Conrad came out, the door he heard open and close must’ve been the back door.

Conrad rushed to the back door and sprinted down his family’s dock until he reached the beach. Once his feet sank into the sand, Conrad’s tired eyes spotted y/n further down on the shore. He could tell she likely needed space, so he stayed quiet. But, Conrad refused to leave y/n all alone and unprotected this late at night; even if Cousin’s was usually pretty safe. Hence Conrad’s current situation, in which he was seated on the cold sand as his eyes remained glued to y/n’s pacing form.

Y/n’s mind was racing so continuously that when she’d finally caught her breath, she realized she’d gone further from the Fisher’s house than she intended. She sighed and turned around to begin her journey back. Y/n hoped she hadn’t been gone long enough for someone to notice.

The sky was still dark and the tide was still high, suggesting it was likely still in the early hours of the morning. Everyone should still be asleep by the time she returned to the guest bed. Well, if you asked the Fishers, it was considered her bed. They’d made that decision years ago, when y/n had once again spent most of her summer with their family instead of her own. Ever since then, regardless of if her family was at Cousins, y/n had stayed with the Fishers in that same exact bed and bedroom.

Perhaps, one would consider it to be their room by now. But y/n was hesitant to do so. She didn’t feel she could truly claim it as hers because doing so implied she didn’t have to return to her actual home, her actual family, when the summer ended. Much to her dismay, that wasn’t the case.

Y/n had once again been distracted by her own thoughts that she didn’t notice her surroundings. It wasn’t until she nearly tripped over Conrad’s legs that she noticed his presence at all. Y/n gasped as she tried to steady herself. She relaxed some as Conrad pushed himself up to his feet and held her shoulders still.

It was silent for a few moments as Conrad watched y/n blink rapidly. He knew she tended to do that whenever she’d been in her head too much. Conrad’s eyes utilized the minimal light coming from the nearby houses to scan her body for any signs of what was causing her midnight stroll.

Conrad remembered how y/n used to sleepwalk as a child. He knew she had outgrown the behavior, but he nonetheless examined her eyes for any signs it had started up again. When Conrad could see her eyes were clear and focused, he let out a soft sigh. He wasn’t sure what prompted her to journey out here this late, much less alone, but at least it appeared to be something he might be able to help with.

When y/n finally let her eyes shift upwards to meet Conrad’s, she felt her muscles tremble. She immediately felt his arms wrap around her as he pulled her to his chest. Y/n caved into Conrad’s embrace, her hands gripping onto the back of his shirt tightly as she tried to keep her breathing calm.

Conrad silently lowered the two of them down to the sand, his hands never leaving y/n’s frame. He watched her closely as he sat down, noticing the way she clung to him. Conrad and y/n had always been close, but he could see the desperation in her tonight. He wasn’t sure what it was that y/n was going through or how to help. But Conrad could see she needed him, and he was going to make sure she knew she had him.

“Do you want to talk about why you’re out here so late?” Conrad asked softly after she’d relaxed some.

“I could ask you the same thing” y/n deflected with a weak laugh.

Conrad sighed, reaching up and moving a few strands of hair from her eyes. “Y/n,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You know I’m out here because you’re out here” Conrad said, staring into her eyes as he searched for an explanation.

Upon seeing the guilt his last statement caused, Conrad tilted her chin up with his thumb. “Talk to me, I want to help” he admitted. Conrad noticed the way y/n’s eyes softened and heard her faint sniffle. His heart seized at the sound of her despair.

“I… I can’t” y/n mumbled, looking down at the sand. She silently lifted a handful of the cold damp sand and let it sift through her fingers. Y/n knew, could practically feel, that Conrad was watching her in expectation. But she wasn’t lying, she couldn’t tell him.

Conrad frowned slightly, “yes you can. Whatever it is, you know I won’t judge you”. He watched as her eyes flickered up to him hesitatingly. “I won’t force you to, just know I’m here” Conrad promised, squeezing her hand.

Y/n let out a loud breath of air as she nodded appreciatively. “Thank you Con” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. Y/n found herself to suddenly be grateful for the dark sky as she felt a small smile from when Conrad held her to his side.

“Gotcha!” Jeremiah cheered, his loud laughter echoing off the walls of the house. He hadn’t noticed the way Conrad was glaring at him nor the way y/n had flinched not from surprise but from true fear. Instead, Jeremiah was blissfully unaware to the fact he’d caused his older brother to watch y/n even closer now.

Y/n held a hand over her chest and forced a small smile. “You got me” she agreed timidly, her breath still shallow. Nonetheless, y/n played it off and pushed Jeremiah’s shoulder playfully.

“Connie” y/n’s whispered voice cracked as Conrad picked up his phone.

Y/n’s frail voice made Conrad’s body shoot to until he was no longer laying down. His eyes were now wide open and he looked around for the clock. It was three in the morning.

Conrad wasn’t sure what was going on. He knew y/n had been told by her mother that she was expected to stay the night with her own family tonight. Conrad could see her disappointment when his mom broke the news. But it wasn’t to the extent he’d expect y/n to call him so late in tears.

“Y/n, what’s going on? It’s three AM” Conrad questioned, voice coming out tired and raspy despite being fully alert now.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” y/n mumbled.

Conrad shook his head. Realizing y/n wasn’t able to see him, he whispered, “No, stop. What’s going on, where are you?”

There was a moment of tense silence before y/n answered, “I’m here”.

Conrad threw his legs off the edge of his bed and made his way to his bedroom door. “What?” He asked, seeking clarification.

“I’m outside your front door” y/n whispered shyly.

Conrad flung his door open and rushed down the stairs to let y/n in. As he bounced down the steps he breathily asked, “why didn’t you come in?”

Y/n tried to think of how to politely explain she still didn’t feel it was sort of her home too. However, before she could even find the answer, she saw Conrad throw the door open. She could see the way Conrad’s eyes were alert as he searched the porch for her; only slightly aided by the motion-detecting lantern beside the door.

Conrad felt the tension in his chest relax upon seeing that y/n was safe. However, it once again seized up as he took note of her facial expression. Conrad could tell how desolate and shy she was feeling.

“Y/n,” Conrad sighed softly, nearing her, “what’s going on? How long have you been standing out here?”

Y/n didn’t answer. She only shrugged as her eyes lowered to the ground.

“Why didn’t you come in?” Conrad asked again, grabbing y/n’s hand. He placed a soft kiss to her knuckles as he waited for her response.

“I didn’t want to wake you but… I just…” y/n mumbled, her fingers gripping his hand tightly.

Conrad nodded silently for y/n to continue her sentence despite the way he was wanting to say she could wake him up anytime.

“I had to… it sounds stupid” y/n huffed as she shook her head.

Conrad sighed, “Y/n, talk to me”.

“I- I can’t. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come, please just go back to sleep okay?” Y/n whimpered. She looked away from his as she reluctantly let go of his hand. Y/n turned around as she moved to walk away.

“Y/n, come on, don’t leave,“ Conrad begged, softly grabbing for y/n’s wrist. However, his hand had merely brushed against hers.

Yet, y/n audibly gasped while flinching away, her eyes taking on a wild glow.

Conrad’s eyes widened as he rushed forward and moved to stand in front of y/n. His eyebrow raised as he tried to scan her body in the dark.

Conrad’s eyes settled on the bunched up extra fabric of the sleeves on his hoodie she’d been wearing.

Conrad glanced into her eyes, silently reassuring her before he slowly tugged the sleeve away from her hand. His heart splintered into a million pieces when he saw the reddened skin that had formed just above her hand. Conrad looked up with a shaky breath as he tried to stay calm for her, “what happened? Who did this?”

Y/n wanted to look away but could felt trapped as she stared into Conrad’s beautiful eyes. He was clearly scanning hers for answers, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from his. Instead she resorted to letting out a forced fake laugh, “I’m just clumsy”.

“Y/n” Conrad groaned softly, his eyes still staring into hers.

In order to lie y/n had to look away. After she tore her eyes from Conrad’s gaze she covered, “What? I fell, you know me”.

Conrad hummed, “I do know you, but you’ve never hurt your wrist like this before by falling”.

Y/n bit her lip and forced a laugh, “first time for everything”.

Conrad frowned and slowly moved one of his hands up to y/n’s face. Once he saw he’d gone slow enough to not cause her to panic, he moved some hair from her eyes even if she was looking away. “Y/n. You know better than to catch yourself by now. You’ve been klutzy since you were small. Now be truthful, who did this?” Conrad asked, his voice pleading.

Y/n looked up at Conrad for a moment before her eyes flickered to the side of his head. “Con, I told you” she weakly argued.

Conrad sighed, “Y/n”. “Where did you get that?" he repeated, more firmly this time.

Y/n sniffled and refused to hold eye contact with Conrad despite his attempts to catch her gaze.

Conrad mentally scolded himself. He quickly composed his anger internally and moved closer to pull her to his chest. Conrad wasn’t sure if she still trusted him to do that without hurting her. But, he smiled to himself when y/n noticed what he was doing and clung onto him.

Conrad tried a new tactic. He needed to know what was going on, but didn’t want to keep pushing her about her wrist. Conrad stroked her cheek softly as he whispered, “if you can’t tell me what happened, can you at least explain what has brought you to being outside my house at 3 AM?”

Y/n lifted her gaze up to look into Conrad’s eyes, her eyelashes batting over her teary eyes. “I didn’t want to be alone” she confessed quietly.

Conrad nodded, tenderly guiding y/n’s head back down to his chest as he tightened his grip, “you’re not alone. You’ll never be alone, okay?”

Y/n nodded against Conrad’s chest and shuffled closer into his embrace.

After a few moments of the two of them standing on the dimly lit porch in silence, y/n yawned and stepped back, “Con?”

Conrad nodded, his worried eyes not leaving her.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Y/n asked timidly. She felt weak for asking but she needed him.

Conrad’s gaze softened even more as he nodded quickly, “that wasn’t even in question, of course you’re staying here”. He guided y/n into the house, closing the door behind him. “This is your place too. Besides, you know I don’t want you being alone when you’re upset” Conrad hummed, his hand on her back as he walked with her towards the kitchen.

“Especially when I don’t know what, or who, is truly responsible for this,” Conrad softly commented as he nodded towards y/n’s wrist. He wanted her to know he knew better than to believe she’d done it to herself. But he also wanted to let her know he’d still be there for her even if he didn’t know what she they were up against. “I’m not letting you out of my sight” Conrad promised, holding her hand as they rounded the kitchen island.

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound making Conrad smile to himself. She blushed as she teased, “as in, you’re going to watch me sleep, Fisher?”

Conrad felt his cheeks heat up as he flushed bright red. He rubbed the back off his neck nervously, “no that’s…Uhh…no? That’s not what I meant… I just… I was saying that I will get to the bottom of this…, and until then you’re gonna be safe because I’ll be with you”. Conrad turned silent as he rummaged through the freezer for something he could offer y/n as a makeshift ice pack.

Y/n smiled softly to herself as she tugged the sleeves of the hoodie she’d stolen from Conrad weeks ago down over her hands again. She sighed quietly as the embarrassment of her predicament reoccurred to her. “I’m sorry” y/n apologized, staring at Conrad’s back as he dug deeper into the freezer.

“Why are you apologizing?” Conrad questioned, pausing his movements long enough to look over his shoulder at y/n. He couldn’t help but notice how precious she looked, wearing his hoodie, eyes soft, a faint smile gracing her lips, the sleeves of his sweatshirt bunched in her hands the way she’d done everyone she’d borrow his jackets since she was five. However, as the beeping from the freezer door began, Conrad’s attention returned to the present moment and why he was standing here with her.

“Because I’m…” y/n began but trailed off.

“Y/n?” Conrad asked, pulling out bag of frozen vegetables.

Y/n shook her head “nothing, never mind”. She absentmindedly slipping her hands it from the sleeves of Conrad’s hoodie. The rubbing of her fingers by her pointer finger and thumb of the other hand wasn’t anything new to her, she’d been doing it unconsciously for years whenever nervous.

Conrad noticed the way y/n was rubbing her fingers and her avoidant face, her nervousness and insecurities clear to him. “Y/n, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Okay?” He said, handing her the makeshift ice pack.

Y/n still refused to look at Conrad, only mumbling a thank you as she took the frozen vegetables.

Conrad sighed lightly, “I’m serious, whatever is going on isn’t your fault and doesn’t say anything about you, okay?”

Y/n glanced up at Conrad and gave him a weak nod.

The action was enough to settle Conrad for now. “Come on, take these” He requested as he passed her a bottle of water and some ibuprofen.

Once y/n had taken the medication, Conrad took hold of her hand as softly as he could as he lead her to his room. “Are you okay crashing here with me?” He asked.

Y/n nodded, a small smile forming on her lips, “like when we were kids?”

“You still are a kid” Conrad teased, pushing his door open for them.

“Hey” y/n scoffed with a pout as she let him hold the door for her. “You’re not that much older” she argued, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Still technically an adult” Conrad smirked, following her into his room.

Y/n groaned, “barely”.

Conrad chuckled and searched through his dresser drawers for some more clothes for y/n. He handed y/n a pair of his drawstring sweats and a random graphic tee. Conrad squeezed her hand when she thanked him quietly before slipping out to change. When y/n came back into Conrad’s room, he saw she had placed his hoodie back on over the clothes he offered her. “Are you cold?” he asked tenderly, sitting on the corner of his bed.

Y/n silently shook her head as she slowly walked over to his bed.

Conrad easily sensed that something was up but he didn’t want to push it further than he had tonight. He knew y/n and that she’d shut down if he pushed too hard. Conrad was just glad that y/n had sought him out and that she was safe now.

Conrad’s relief displayed when he woke to find y/n tossing and turning in the middle of the night. He frowned and scoooted closer until he could wrap her up in his arms. Staring down at y/n, Conrad kissed the top of her head, “shhh it’s okay. You’re safe Y/n. I’ve got you”. Once she’d simmered down and was breathing more steadily, Conrad allowed himself to fall back asleep.

“I don’t believe it” Laurel scoffed, “you’re far too beautiful”.

Y/n shrugged, “I promise, it’s true!”

“What’s true” Conrad questioned as he walked into the kitchen having returned from his morning surf with Jeremiah. He sat down beside y/n and leaned into her, just enough for them to touch shoulders.

“Laurel and I were doubting that, our lovely Y/n here, truly isn’t dating anyone, yet” Susannah smirked, eyeing her eldest son.

Conrad tried to ignored his mother’s look, instead focusing on Y/n. “No one?” he asked, hoping his intrigue didn’t show up in his tone. Conrad couldn’t help but want to know for certain if she was seeing anyone; he’d always wanted to know this detail of y/n’s life. Yet, his voice came out more casually since he figured y/n would’ve told him if she had been; right?

Y/n and Conrad were certainly close enough for those details to be shared amongst each other. However, after last night Conrad wasn’t sure what all he didn’t know about y/n. In fact, he realized that perhaps there was someone y/n was dating but didn’t want people to meet. After all, it would explain why she refused to talk about who caused her injuries.

“No” y/n shook her head and turned to give Conrad a knowing look. She could tell when Conrad picked up on the look, his tense body language relaxing even more than it had at her initial answer. Y/n knew Conrad got her silent reassurance that what happened to her wasn’t from some boyfriend who’d hurt her.

Jeremiah cut in before Conrad could respond. He rubbed y/N’s hair wildly, “come on, our little y/n/n?” Jeremiah tsked loudly, “you’ve gotta be involved with someone!” “Didn’t I see you with that guy Kyle last night before the party?” He asked with wide eyes.

“Kyle? Who’s this Kyle?” Susannah asked, smiling excitedly. Even if she wanted Conrad to finally admit the feelings she knew her son held for y/n, she just wanted them both to be happy. While Susannah had an inclination Conrad would wind up with y/n eventually, for now she’d settle for Y/n being happy with someone else.

“Kyle? As in Kyle Richland? The asshole who -“ Conrad began, his eyes snapping from Jeremiah and Susannah over to y/n. He felt bile rise in his throat as he recalled the previous interactions he had with this Kyle.

“Conrad!” His mom scolded, shaking her head. Susannah sighed, assuming Conrad’s outburst was from pure jealousy and nothing else.

Conrad stared at Y/n until she looked his way. When their eyes locked, he glanced down at her wrist. Conrad let out a sigh of relief when y/n shook her head.

“Kyle is just a friend,” y/n told their group, glancing around the room. “And, nothing happened with him” she added, facing Jeremiah while her eyes stayed stuck on Conrad.

Conrad’s hands loosened from grip on his seat as he let his nerves relax. He ignored the questioning and smirking glances from the others in the room.

It had been a few weeks without Conrad noticing any injuries or other red flag behaviors. During that time, Y/n swore to Conrad that she was safe. She felt bad for lying to him, but she had to. Y/n felt even worse for having kept him on edge all the time after he’d seen her wrist.

She’d finally gotten Conrad to believe that she had truly tripped. He still felt off about it but wanted to trust her word. So he figured, maybe there was a reason y/n had tripped and braced herself. A reason that she wasn’t wanting to tell him.

But, at least Conrad knew y/n was honest when she said there wasn’t any boyfriend or partner hurting her. It wasn’t much, but at least he knew he didn’t need to help her escape a violent relationship with some asshole guy.

Y/n, the Conklins, the Fishers, and a few friends were hanging out in the Fisher family’s living room when Jeremiah suggested they play spin the bottle.

Conrad was the only one who noticed the way y/n stiffened at the suggestion. As such, he promptly declined to play, ignoring the mocking from Steven and his brother. Conrad merely rolled his eyes and suggested they find another group activity to do.

When the others didn’t agree with Conrad’s suggestion, he coyly looked over at Y/n. He could tell she wasn’t wanting to make a scene but was uncomfortable. Conrad then declared he suddenly recalled that he and Y/n had told Suzannah they’d go to the store for her before she got back.

It was a lie, but the others fell for it and offered to wait until they returned.

Y/n quickly shook her head, “no it’s okay, maybe next time”. She let Conrad help her up from her spot on the floor, squeezing his hand in appreciation. Y/n knew Conrad made up the lie to help cover for her. She didn’t know why or how he’d even known she needed an escape, but she was grateful for it.

“Thank you for that” y/n whispered shyly, getting into Conrad’s red Jeep.

Conrad hummed softly. “It’s no problem” he stated, starting his car.

“No really, thank you” y/n said, her voice more authoritative this time. She glanced across the console at him as he backed out of the driveway.

“Can I ask why it bothered you?” Conrad inquired hesitantly. “Jere has suggested it before” he reminded her, recalling how she hadn’t reacted like that before.

Y/n nodded, turning her head to look out the passenger side window. “I know” she whispered. Taking a deep breath, y/n continued, “but.. You always said I was too young to play”.

Conrad hummed and nodded to himself. Y/n wasn’t wrong, he’d always argued against her playing whenever it was brought up before. He used her age as an excuse for not wanting her to play. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t noticed her reaction -or even if there was one- to the suggestion before.

“I’m not sure the real reason” y/n admitted, looking over at Conrad briefly. She’d never been able to figure out why Conrad had been so opposed to her playing the game before. Y/n looked away when Conrad glanced her way, staring out through the windshield instead. “But,” she shook her head, “I was okay with it”.

“Really? I recall you getting pissed” Conrad teased, replaying her outbursts over his repetitive, yearly, statement she was too young to play.

Y/n giggled quietly, biting her lip, “I had to keep up my cover”.

“What cover?” Conrad rushed, eyes darting between her and the road.

Y/n went silent, fiddling with her fingers as she rested her hands in her lap.

“Y/n?” Conrad asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Was she implying what he thought, what he hoped, she was? “Oh come on, you can’t say something like that and then not explain” Conrad teased, laughing. However, when he glanced over at her, he saw the panic and shyness in her eyes and he became serious.

“Y/n?” Conrad repeated, softly this time. He watched the way her eyes looked at his lips before she closed her eyes and looked away. Conrad could feel his heart pounding violently in his chest as he reached over the console to her. He delicately turned her cheek so she would look at him, “what cover?”

“As if you don’t know” y/n mumbled, slipping from his touch when she saw he had parked.

“I don’t” Conrad confessed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Tell me” he pleaded breathlessly.

Y/n stared at the group as she shook her head and slid out of his seat. She sighed as her feet hit the sand covered paved parking stall. Y/n looked towards the ocean for the routine relief she found in it as her mind and heart were still racing.

Conrad walked around his car, his eyes never leaving y/n. When he reached her, he placed his arm over her shoulder and let out a puff of breath he’d been holding. “Whatever cover you were trying to uphold, you don’t have to” Conrad dared, his eyes staring down at her.

“Yes I do” y/n argued in a faint voice. She hooked her arm around his waist as she let him guide them down towards the shore. Y/n tried to keep her head clear despite feeling Conrad’s eyes boring down at her.

“Not with me” Conrad assured, his voice barely audible over the crashing of the waves a few feet away.

“Yes, especially with you” y/n sighed, whispering as lowly as she could. Maybe if she said it quietly he wouldn’t catch the sadness in her tone.

But, Conrad heard. Of course he heard. He’d have heard it even if there were a windstorm surrounding them, it was y/n after all. Not to mention, he was secretly hoping to hear her say she had feelings for him; that his crush wasn’t unrequited.

“What?” Conrad questioned breathily, stopping beside her. He moved to stand in front of her, his eyes trying to search hers for reassurance he wasn’t reading the situation incorrectly. Conrad delicately tilted y/n’s head up towards his.

Y/n couldn’t help it as her eyes drifted to Conrad’s soft lips. She unconsciously licked and then bit her bottom lip as her gaze froze. When she caught herself staring at his mouth, y/n shifted her gaze down, focusing on Conrad’s shoes.

Conrad smiled gleefully, as he watched her actions. He took a deep breath and tenderly lifted her chin upwards with his first two fingers. Conrad stared softly into her y/e/c eyes, “why especially me?”

Y/n watched as Conrad’s eyes sparkled. She noticed he was staring into her gaze with what seemed to be…excitement? Her breathing was heavy and erratic as he tucked hair behind her ear. “Because it’s you, Con” y/n confessed freely.

Conrad felt his heart soar and he quickly grabbed y/n’s hand. He decided to go for it and leaned in, stopping just before their lips met. Conrad pushed past his nerves to breathlessly ask, “can I kiss you?”

“You want to kiss me?” Y/n questioned, her eyes blinking rapidly.

Conrad nodded with a smile, “I do, can I?”

Y/n whispered a faint yes as she nodded. She felt her breath hitch momentarily when Conrad’s lips finally graced hers. Her hand reached up to play with his hair as she deepened the kiss.

Conrad tried to suppress his soft moan as y/n’s tongue grazed his bottom lip. He complied, parting his lips to allow her tongue to slip into his mouth. Conrad hooked an arm lovingly around y/N’s waist, pulling her closer to him.

Conrad was smiling widely when they separated. He struggled to catch his breath as he nervously asked, “there’s really no guy I have to compete with for your attention or feelings?” Conrad’s eyes were soft and displayed his hopeful energy.

Y/n shook her head, smiling widely at him. “There never has been” she admitted bashfully. Y/n quickly covered her shyness by tugging on Conrad’s shirt to bring his lips back to hers.

Part 2 coming soon (see series navigation link -at top and below- for exact time)

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[honey-minded-hivemind]

After watching the end of the security footage, the yans swear they have gone crazy, some shadows seem to move on their own, small items start to go missing in the manor, and those with more sensitive ears swear they hear scratching in the walls at night. Even the kids say things at school are weird. Forgotten homework turns up in their bag, and their lockers had been reorganized. Scott's car gets new tires overnight, and the x-wing always has a full tank of fuel.

Jean wakes up in the middle of the night, needing to use the restroom. On her way back, she runs into Professor Xavier, who had been up late worrying about Reader. They sit and chat in the kitchen for a bit, hoping a cup of tea will calm their nerves and distract them from the scratching they are definitely hearing now.

Both are suddenly slammed with a powerful telepathic force, bringing Jean to the floor in pain. It's far away, it's in the walls, it's too little, it's too much.

It's not malicious at all.

It'd clumsy, but it's not trying to hurt them. Whatever it is just doesn't know how not to. They can feel it's panic and attempts to soothe until they can't take anymore and black out.

Both wake up in the morning, and they're tucked safely in their beds. No headache or pain to tell them that last night's force was real or a bad dream. All the while, they are unaware of a pair of glowing eyes remorsefully watching them from the shadows, paintings, and cracks in the wall.

The strange occurrences scare them at first.

The found homework, the scratching in the walls, the extra snacks and warm blankets added to the kitchen and bedrooms... It escalates to the cars having new tires, the vehicles always having fuel, favorite foods made and waiting to be eaten, soft cries at night that echo in the shadowed halls...

It scares the cr*p out of everyone.

Are they being haunted? Is the thing that k*lied Reader's abusers come after them next?

Except... whatever their resident ghost or creature or cryptid wants, it isn't their death or suffering. They just- leave food, find forgotten items, clean the kitchen and rooms, and generally help out. They aren't malicious, whatever they are. They're quite helpful. Always keeping food warm, keeping the halls clean, making sure food and blankets and comfort items are always stocked... If only theh knew what it was...

The night Jean and The Professor hear the creature, feel the way it clumsily tries to project its thoughts, they feel worried- obviously this is someone who is hurt, their mind broken in small pieces that are hard to connect, their thoughts focused on trying to make others happy and pleased- but when it overwhelms them, it becomes too much. It stings, it hurts, but all they can pick up is the creature is sorry, and then it all fades out to nothingness...

When they wake up, there's fresh tea made, coffee and bacon and pancakes on dishes ready to he eaten, and extra blankets wrapped up in neat bundles in their room and the living room. The walls are quieter, the rooms seem less... alive. They can hear the faint fluttwr of noise as the breeze rocks the curtains, the fabric roiling and fluctuating in the wind...

Did they just imagine it, or... did that creature they heard, the one who tried to reach out...? It couldn't be... Yet, was it possible? The being seemed familiar, in a broken, warped way... They felt for the poor thing, so lost and scared and anxious. Perhaps they can try to locate it, and coax it our of hiding...

Yet no one notices the being who slips out, with glowing eyes and sharp fingers, that slips away in the morning dawn, never caught and filled with deep, heavy sadness... The shadows seem to wrap around it, the trees hide it from sight, the world seems colder and more quiet when it passes by... But it slips away all the same, disappearing to where no one can find it...

(Shall we go even darker, @sugar-soda ? What did you think?)

[leslieotter]

From Lake Emma (an Echo VN fan-fic)

"From Lake Emma" audiobook: https://youtu.be/qE04sANSjAA *********************************************

2016

It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. Something changed along the way, and now we’re here.

********************************************* Before the rays of sunlight breach the window, Kudzu is awake. The Raccoon hasn’t been awake for long. Just enough for lucidity to set in. That’s also when he pinpoints the difference is the air.

The earthy smell that comes with living in a desert is there, however, it’s drowned out by the unpleasant notes of tobacco.

Lazily, his eyes pry open, rapidly adjusting to the still dark room. As suspected, this isn’t his bedroom. It’s not even his own home. He attempts to shift, but like a seat belt, something binds him in place.

Kudzu doesn’t need to take a look to know that a certain Wolf is holding him. Spooning him. His face heats up at that thought. They’re in Leo’s room. He’s laying in bed with Leo Alvarez, who is thankfully, fast asleep.

The high fades quickly. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. He concludes. Carefully, the Raccoon untangles himself from the Wolf’s grasp, and slips out of the bed. With no one to latch onto, Leo instinctively rolls onto his back. He doesn’t wake. Perfect.

As quietly as he can, Kudzu dresses and makes for the door. Once outside, he doesn't cross the dirt road to go to his own home. The Raccoon has far too much parse through. The events of last night, Leo, and whatever comes next. He needs to figure out the best way to navigate this situation. So, he opts to follow the road instead.

The rate of his heart increases, and so does the pace of his steps. A morning jog to clear his mind.

It’s just before dawn. His sharp vision safely guides him across the rugged, desert terrain. Despite his nocturnal inclinations, he has a fondness for this time of day. No noise. No distractions. No people.

It’s why he moved to Echo, after all. To escape the dangers of city living. In retrospect, Kudzu has accepted that moving to Echo was a miscalculation. He had the right idea with small town living. The problem is, he picked the wrong town.

In Echo the air is foul, the water is barely drinkable, and the friendly faces have long since shied away. This town is a husk; held together by dust and government pennies.

That fact is represented in every abandoned house Kudzu jogs past. However, that isn’t the only thing that turned Kudzu’s opinion of Echo so sour. It’s mainly what he has seen over the last year or so. A new type of decline. *********************************************

The town had grown quieter, and there was less work to do in town hall. So, Kudzu filled his days by expanding his garden with non-native herbs and vegetables. A chore, but a rewarding one.

Being home more often also allowed Kudzu to notice another pattern. Well, more like a disturbance of a pattern.

Leo’s weekly schedule was predictable to the point that it became background noise. He’d leave for work in the morning, and return home late in the evening; routinely pausing to greet Kudzu whenever both neighbors were outside. This went on for months, until one day, the Wolf stopped leaving his home.

The Wolf’s front door only opened once a day. When Flynn, the Town Clerk, knocked. Based on their interactions at work, Kudzu knew Flynn had a prickly personality. That is to say, he wasn’t surprised when Flynn stopped visiting Leo entirely, only a few weeks later.

And well, Kudzu couldn’t leave it be. The Wolf’s ranch-style house was beginning to fall into disrepair, and he didn’t want to see another house in this town go to ruin. So, the following evening, the Raccoon crossed the dirt road.

It took a few knocks, but eventually the door opened. Kudzu was met with shaggy, untrimmed red and white fur, and an unfocused glare beaming down on him. His mind went blank. He couldn’t tell if Leo had gained or lost weight. All he knew was that the Wolf looked different. Hollow.

He decided to start with a basic greeting. Then, he asked the Wolf what’s been going on and he’d been. After a stilted pause, Leo finally spoke, stating that he hadn’t been feeling well. There was a tension to his words, so Kudzu jumped ahead in his script and made an offer to help the Wolf fixup the house. Nothing special; Kudzu thought. He waited for the Wolf’s laggy response, and to his surprise, Leo accepted.

From that day forward, a couple times a week, the Raccoon crossed the road. Somedays, it would be for a simple chat. Otherdays, he would drop off leftover food. All that mattered to Kudzu was getting the Wolf to open the door. Soon enough, glimpses of Leo’s true personality began to shine through. The version of Leo that generously helped Kudzu unload his belongings when he moved to Echo; smiles and jokes the whole time. This was progress.

A month later, Leo started working again. To anyone else in town, Leo would have seemed fully restored. Kudzu, however, knew something about the Wolf had changed along the way.

He just didn’t know what.

That was until yesterday.

The ranch-style house had been saved. It was hard work, but Kudzu and Leo tackled it together. As a way to show thanks, Leo suggested that a celebration was in order. And Kudzu, being too polite to say “no”, accepted the invite.

That evening, the Raccoon crossed the dirt road and knocked. To Kudzu’s relief, it wasn’t an actual celebration. It was dinner. And he found himself feeling anxious for a completely different reason.

Leo had cleaned up. His red and white fur was trimmed and well groomed. The shirt the Wolf wore teetered on the edge of being too small, and clung to his large frame. Kudzu wasn’t sure if this was meant to be a date, or if Leo was overtly trying to get into his pants. Honestly, it didn’t matter because whatever it was, was kinda working.

So, Kudzu lowered his guard, and sat at the table with the Wolf, and ate the protein heavy meal the Wolf had prepared, and drank the Wolf’s expensive alcohol.

Kudzu was almost always certain that Leo was interested in men. Despite the Wolf’s masculine demeanor, there were indeed signs. However, Kudzu's assumptions go back to the day he first met Leo. While helping Kudzu move in, Leo recounted a story from his high school days that featured his childhood friends.

Leo shared great admiration for his friends, especially for the Otter. Kudzu lacked proof, but he could tell that the Wolf and the Otter shared some kind of romantic relationship. It showed in Leo's face whenever he spoke the Otter’s name. Chase.

And that’s when the dominos began to fall. Kudzu made the final connection. That’s why Leo stopped going outside. He had been lonely. It all made sense. It all made sense in a way that sparked in the Raccoon’s mind.

Kudzu doesn’t remember the specifics, but back in Spring of 2015, Leo’s friends were supposed to visit Echo. The Wolf had seemed so excited. Practically over the moon. What Kudzu does remember is that Leo's friends never made it to Echo because of car trouble. Considering the Wolf is a certified mechanic, that must have stung real bad. And in the year since then, Leo’s friends still haven’t visited Echo.

Do they even call him? Kudzu wondered. Does Chase?

The night air surrounding their dinner had gone awkward and stale. Leo fell silent after sharing a past memory involving his friends. It was a happy memory, but for the Wolf, happy memories rarely mix well with alcohol. Kudzu, after having had his epiphany, and refusing to let Leo backslide into another depression, scooted his chair closer and gently placed a paw on the Wolf’s shoulder. A calming gesture.

“You alright there?” Kudzu asked.

The Wolf hummed and faced the Raccoon. There was a glint in his eyes. “Yeah. It’s just been a rough year, you know?” He answered.

Even though his revelation occurred a few minutes prior, Kudzu did understand Leo’s pain. His longing to see someone. Someone that he may never see again. So, the Raccoon smiled and replied with a nod. “I think I have a good idea.”

Leo made a sound somewhere between a sign and chuckle. “Here I go being a lousy host. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“I am having a good time, Leo. We just… um-” Kudzu’s eyes drifted towards the mostly empty bottle on the table.

“Right. Less booze next time.” Leo appended.

Next time. Kudzu didn’t miss that. His gaze shot up from the table and met Wolf’s eyes. Leo smiled genuinely in return. A warmth rose in the Raccoon’s chest. One that was distinct from the warmth of alcohol.

Slowly, Leo lifted a large paw and cupped the side of Kudzu’s face. The Raccoon didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned into it. And that was all it took. He hadn’t been touched like that in a long, long time.

Not since…

Kudzu didn’t get to finish that thought because Leo’s muzzle crashed into his own. The Wolf wasn’t the best kisser, but Kudzu reciprocated in earnest. And what followed was a flurry of uncoordinated movements, spurred on by alcohol and desire.

Afterward was the best sleep Kudzu had gotten in years, and he hates that fact. *********************************************

The Raccoon’s jogging comes to a halt. He was so lost in his thoughts that he jogged all the way to the lake just outside of town. Kudzu’s chest thrums, not too different from the way it did last night. Things have changed between him and Leo. Irreversibly so. He doesn’t have a clear answer about his feelings for the Wolf, but he’s sure of one thing. He doesn’t plan to slip into denial. Something is there. It’s just a question of what.

He turns around, takes a breath, and readies his posture. He’s ready to return to Leo’s. He’s finally ready to talk-

Something moves. In the distance, right at the edge of his vision.

His head turns towards the lake, eyes scanning. For a moment it seems to be nothing. Just the morning sunlight bouncing on the waves.

But, there is something. Someone…

A body resting face down on the sand and stones. The lazy waves washing over their legs. Kudzu sees this all at once, however, his vision tunnels in on a single detail. The figure has long ears.

Without thinking, Kudzu is in full sprint.

20 seconds is all it takes for him to be just a few yards away. Though, at this distance, he can clearly tell that he was wrong. The figure doesn’t have long ears. In fact, they have very short, round ears, and a long tail that touches the water’s edge. A male Otter, in the midst of a coughing fit.

“Hey are you alright?!” Kudzu rasps.

The Otter, now on all fours, only hacks and wheezes. Their guttural coughs drawing out Kudzu’s question. Lake water and saliva coats the side of their muzzle. Kudzu hesitates, not sure of what to do in this situation. A quick cursory glance proves that the Otter isn’t bleeding, or has any noticeable injuries. It also confirms that this Otter is indeed fully nude.

Trembling, Kudzu leans closer, unsure if the Otter is even aware of his presence. “Do you need help?” He asks, slightly louder.

Eyes still fixed toward the ground, the Otter shakes their head. At that same moment, the worst of their coughing seems to subside. Weakly, the Otter attempts to clear their face with a forearm, however the action causes them to lose balance. Kudzu’s reaction isn’t fast enough, so the Otter falls onto the rocks below.

Shakely, Kudzu grabs the Otter by their shoulders and drags them further away from the water’s edge. After a few feet Kudzu lets go. He falls back into a sitting position near the Otter, ignoring the damp rocks and sand for the time being. He needs to catch his own breath after all.

From the look of things, the Otter appears stable, but Kudzu still decides that they likely need medical attention. “I’m going to call my friend. We should get you to the hospital.” He announces.

No response from the Otter. Just the rise and fall of their chest. No other sound reaches Kudzu’s ears. It’s just the two of them and the lake. So, he takes out his phone and dials Leo. *********************************************

The Wolf is still sleeping when his cellphone begins to ring. By the third ring he rouses and snatches it up, praying it’s not a request to come into work early. Instead, his brow furrowes upon reading the name on screen. Kudzu.

Confused, he answers the call. “Morning Kud. Where did you go-?”

“Leo, I-I need you to come to the lake. It’s an emergency.” Kudzu cuts in.

The lake? The Wolf freezes, ears standing at attention. Several seconds creep by without a word.

“Hello?” Kudzu mutters.

“I’m here. What happened?” Leo barks, considerably more awake now.

“There’s a guy here. I think he almost drowned. We should get him to the hospital.”

The Wolf’s throat goes very dry.

“Okay. I’m on my way.” He confirms.

Kudzu chimes in again, before Leo can end the call.

“One more thing. Uh- could you bring a towel, and a pair of shorts.” The Raccoon whispers the last words.

“Shorts..?” Leo repeats, flatly.

“Yeah… He doesn’t have any clothes.”

Another pause.

“Got it. Be there soon.”

Leo hangs up. *********************************************

Kudzu stares at the screen until it goes black.

“Leo?” The weak voice causes the Raccoon to flinch.

Kudzu turns towards the Otter, brows furrowed.

“Leo A-Alvarez?”

“Yeah. You know him?” Kudzu asks, pointedly.

“I knew him. Doubt he remembers me, though.” *********************************************

It doesn’t take long for Leo to see the lake through the windshield of his van. He’s lived in Echo most of his life. He could probably walk to the lake from his house with his eyes closed. Despite the familiarity, his fondness for Lake Emma faded long ago.

The van comes to a stop at one of the parking spots near the half-finished picnicking area. Partway to the lake, Leo realized that Kudzu didn’t give him an exact location. He just assumes that Kudzu meant the nearside.

He exits the van and lifts a paw to shield his eyes from the rising sun. Instinctively, his vision falls on the spot he and his friends frequented as kids. One of the few patches with more sand than rocks. The perfect place to build sandcastles and skip stones.

Of course, this is where he sees two figures at the waterline. One is clearly the outline of Kudzu and the other… The other is an Otter. Chase?

The Wolf forgets about the towel and clothes on the passenger seat. He forgets to close the door to his van. Without thinking, Leo is in full sprint.

30 seconds is all it takes him to navigate the picnic tables and to crest the shallow embankment. Though, at just a few yards away, he can clearly tell that he was wrong.

This Otter isn’t Chase. They share no resemblance whatsoever. Yet, Leo finds them uncomfortably familiar.

Kudzu says something, but the Wolf doesn’t hear it. Can’t hear him. The buzzing in his ears is too loud. All he can do is study the Otter sitting before him. Their fur. Their general size and shape. And those eyes. Those icy blue eyes. Leo knows who this is, but he hopes this is a dream, because there’s no other way to explain it.

Sensing the tension, Kudzu stands and moves near Leo. And finally, the Wolf acknowledges the Raccoon.

“Kudzu, who is this?” Leo queries, hoping there’s an easy explanation. Before Kudzu can get a word out, the Otter chuckles. Leo’s hackles rise. Then the Otter speaks.

“See. I told you he wouldn’t recognize me.” The Otter says, playfully, mainly addressing Kudzu.

Something in Leo shatters after hearing that voice. He wants to scream and cry. This is impossible.

“Are you a Bronson?” The Wolf asks with a heavy quiver in his voice. He’s unable to move, but his eyes remain on the Otter's face.

“Leo. You know who I am.” The Otter croons.

A single syllable forms on Leo��s tongue. He tries to swallow it down, but it escapes his maw anyway.

“Syd..?”

[mangohgeckoh]

Chemical Reaction Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“The Good Ole Times”

(Part 2 of 3)

-

‘Fighting.’

The noises got louder the closer she got to the top by scrambling up the ladder.

‘Screams’.

‘Enforcers?’ Her left feathered ear tuft followed another scream. ‘No, territory dispute.’ She carefully scaled across the rooftop, nearing the edge. Peering from above from her perch, she could see everything.Two boys had been cornered by 4 teens of a rival gang.

The gang has proved to be a nuisance in these parts around her camp. Often starting trouble, but she didn’t claim her camp as a territory. She quickly unhooked a scrappy looking monocular from her belt. Shortly after bringing it to her eye she made a discovery. Silco and Vander. They were the boys cornered, they were in trouble. Vander seems to be egging the 4 rivals on, calling them slurs. Silco was poised, ready to attack. Ophelia’s monocular focused on what he was holding. Another one of the home-made grenades was fixed in his palm.

Vander’s shout made her almost drop her seeing-glass, he had just poked the bear one last time. Two of the gang members tackled Vander to the ground. Before his younger companion could react, one rival drew a knife while the other threw rocks at Silco. In his effort to dodge the rocks, he dropped the grenade. The knife-wielding gang member was slashing the air while Silco continued to barely evade the attacks, despite being close to getting stabbed his face remained cool as if he was just dancing.

Ophelia knew she couldn’t just leave the two, after all, they did save her. Ophelia’s hand reached for her back. Quickly unsheathing a feather from the plumage above her right shoulder blade, she focused as she aimed it to the discarded gas bomb. She took a deep breath before letting it loose.

The feather, as sharp as a knife, sliced into the grenade creating a popping noise. Gas flooded out of the grenade and into the lungs of those on the ground, distracting the gang. Ophelia watched from her perch as Vander stood up and grabbed his friend. But Silco looked up to see the girl he had met the day before, he caught a smile from her before the gas clouded his view.

-

It was early into the evening, despite the sun still supposed to be up, its rays touched the Undercity very weakly. To any visitor, it would seem as if the Undercity was always trapped in the dark. Which it was. The main square of the Undercity was quieter than normal as most are at work or asleep. It is within the night when it really comes alive.

Ophelia doesn’t often indulge in spirits too often but the day she’s had proves that alcohol may help her nurse her stress. She stood in the cross section of the streets dividing the buildings up, trying to make her pick at the bars. Most were not open, the ones that had an open sign flickering in their window were either inside a brothel or too unsightly. Her ears faltered under her hood. Is there no place less rowdy to get a drink? Just before she turned back to camp the Last Drop twinkled like a diamond amongst bedrock. It seemed perfectly in place with the rest of the Undercity buildings as it was nestled on a block between two busy streets. Yet she has not seen too much traffic which was ideal for her headache.

Walking in, she was immediately underwhelmed by the amount of patrons in the bar. Only two other people were occupying the bar, and one of them was behind the counter cleaning a shot glass with a content look.

“I am sorry, are you closed?” Ophelia asked, feeling as if she intruded.

“Not at all, just opened.” The bartender waved her over.

Ophelia hopped on one of the high seats that groaned under her weight. She noticed that another sat a little ways down the bar, but he had papers sprawled out on the wood beneath his gaze. Her finger lifted, about to order when the teen behind the bar held up a hand. “Trust me, I can tell what you need.” After that he disappeared under the counter and pulled out a bottle and a clean glass. Murky liquid gingerly pooled from the bottle into the cup and was placed on the bar.

Having a tough day, Ophelia obliged, drinking the liquor. She almost immediately scrunched her nose but tried to stay polite, giving him a weak smile. His grin faltered, defeated. “Damn, ‘thought I was close.”

“Don’t worry,” A cool voice spoke up from further down the bar. “You will get the hang of your bartender-instincts soon enough.” A man, who hasn’t looked up from his paperwork once, writes down something in pencil. It seemed important enough for him not to make eye contact with his friend. With a huff, the bartender picked up the drink that Ophelia returned to the countertop. “Y’don’t owe me for this one.” He flipped a hand towel over his shoulder before giving the girl that sat across from him a look. This look made her nervous as it turned into a smirk.

“Aye, Silco?” There was a hum from the concentrating teen. “What did you say your savior looked like?” He said in a mildly mocking tone. Squeezing the bridge of his nose, his friend mumbled something that sounded like “I hardly have the time for this.”

Vander’s smirk only grew wider as his eyes darted from Ophelia to his companion. “No, no, really. What did they look like?” Sighing, the teen pressed his pencil on the bar, eyes closed. “I’m not sure, short hair?” He looked up at Vander, seeing blue hair in his peripheral. “It was hard to see from such a distan-” Registering the familiar hair and the large feathery ears he narrowed his eyes at the girl sitting next to him. “You.” Even he could see the distinctive yellow eyes glowing from under the hood.

“Me?” Ophelia pointed to herself.

Silco eyes narrowed in on her. “You saved us.” He blurted out.

Vander coughed from behind the bar. “I recall not needing to be saved.” He protested. tThis made his companion snap his face back at him. “Really? You were not the one on the ground?” His seafoam green eyes twinkled. “Or do you not remember being tackled?” Vander blushed in embarrassment. Chuckling, Ophelia turned straight in her chair, facing away from Silco. There was a few moments of silence before that soft voice spoke up. “Why?”

Ophelia’s ear twitched in the direction of the voice but didn’t look at him. “Why what?” There was a pause. “You know what I mean.” Another moment filled with silence. “Why save us?” He was right to be weary. Nothing comes free in the Undercity, that was the unspoken law amongst trenchers. Ophelia only shrugged. “Your friend rescued me from being bludgeoned by an enforcer yesterday,” She itched the back of her neck. “Felt like I owed you both, I guess.”

That response seemed to satisfy them both enough for the barkeep to introduce himself. “Well, since you’re in the neighborhood, might as well introduce ourselves.” He gave his companion a look. “I am Vander, that bloke stewing over his writings over there is Silco.”

“I know.” They both look at her worried, as if she was a stalker. “Because you two constantly bicker!”

-

It slowly became a weekly occurrence for the three to coincidentally see each other at The Last Drop. As time went on, they started to warm up about their lives. It was often the larger of the trio to open up about himself. Despite this, Ophelia learned a lot about him and his brother. Vander had just turned 21 and bought a dilapidated bar but continued to work with Silco in the mines at night to pay rent. From what she gathered, Silco helped with the financial aspect of running the bar. After time went on, Vander shared that his dream was to create a place where everyone in the undercity could coexist safely and peacefully. Though, Ophelia felt as if he wasn’t being completely honest. Like the bar wasn’t his full aspirations.

One evening when Ophelia stopped by just for the companionship of her two new friends, The Last Drop was empty. Granted, it was earlier than normal but she fully expected the two to be there. Except for a woman. She looked to be Ophelia’s age, maybe a year older. She had the same dark blue hair as Ophelia but adorned a smirk. “Anddd how might I help you today?” Ophelia stood, dumbfounded. She thought only Vander and Silco worked at the last drop.

“Oh, well, I,” She stammered, suddenly feeling herself melt into the cloak she wore everywhere.

But the young woman’s eyes widened. “Wait! You’re that girl!” She said, making a snapping noise with her fingers. Ophelia felt strange and out of place.

The young woman clarified. “The girl with no name!”

Ophelia tilted her head, the girl could tell she was confused at how she recognized her and quickly spoke up. “There aren’t many people walking around with freaky bird legs, sweets.” She chuckled, pointing to Ophelia’s legs. Her face immediately grew hot, she tried very hard to hide what makes her different. As an avian Vastaya, she sports long feathered ears, avian-like legs that end in talons and she is expecting to grow a full plumage of razor sharp feathers from under her shoulder blade. But that is for her to worry about for when she is older.

Sensing as if she struck a nerve, the girl immediately backtracked.“Oh, no no! Don’t take it the wrong way! I think they are cool, they definitely give you away though.” Tucking a rogue strand of aqua hair behind her ear, she leaned against the counter behind her. “Yeah, the boys are taking a late shift at the mines tonight.” The strand of hair came undone, so she just blew it out of her face.

Ophelia tried to not look disappointed. Afterall, she stopped coming to the bar for drinks a while ago. She didn’t want to admit it but she was drawn to the companionship. The brother’s bickering was also a nice distraction from her days full of stress at her camp. She loved her newfound family, but it was hard defending everyone whilst trying to find others who needed help.

She didn’t even notice when a olive branch was extended to her. “I’m Felicia.” The young woman offered her hand to shake, something of a rare occurrence in the Undercity.

Slowly, Ophelia’s talons clicked against the bar’s floor as she covered ground to shake the hand. “Ophelia.”

“She does have a name!” Felicia squawked, making Ophelia giggle.

Felicia nodded her head towards the bar. “Care to get wasted?”

-

[genesissaturna]

Had to write an article abt this for a class so I thought I'd post abt it here too

My stance on the whole school furry crisis and what I know about it

Facts:

No, kids are not asking schools to put litter boxes in classrooms/bathrooms. If there are cases of litter boxes being added to schools, it's for service animals.

No, furries are not sexually attracted to animals. The correct term for those who are is zoophile.

No, most furries do not really believe they are animals. They just find comfort and fun in playing dress up as one. I'm not sure what the correct term for someone who does believe they are an animal is. (Therian?)

Now where I draw the line:

Understandable things for furries to do during school hours:

Wear small accessories with animal patterns/shapes/themes, such as a cat ear headband, gloves with paw pads (not fursuit gloves, but small, hardly noticeable gloves that can be worn while writing.)

Vocal stim (I see this lumped in with the furry community as some people who have vocal stims tend to use animal noises as stims.) That said, I do urge people to try repressing loud and disruptive stims and try to develop quieter ways to stim.

Talk with friends about their interest in animals/fursuiting. People can talk about what they want amongst themselves and it is not your right to barge in on conversations unless they are discussing harmful topics.

Things I don't think are acceptable:

Loudly and repeatedly making animalistic sounds or gestures, such as meowing, hissing, barking, purring, etc. as well as walking on all fours, refusing to do things as they aren't something an animal would do, and refusing to use bathrooms in a humanly manner.

Wearing full fursuits/fursuit parts. They take up a lot of space, are usually brightly colored, which can be distracting to other students/staff, and if not maintained correctly, can emit mass amounts of bodily odor.

Being a zoophile. This is in no way even tangentially related to those who participate in their community in a healthy and non-harmful way, but I see it associated with it a lot. Individuals who prey on animals in a sexual manner are to be reported to the police and have interventional services called to help both the animal and the individual.

Talking about being a furry excessively to staff members. Teachers can have interest in a student's life, and often ask questions like "what are your hobbies?" If safe to do so, you can offhandedly mention fursuiting/fursuit creation, but please do not bring it up willingly in conversation as many teachers are not in agreement with the community's existence and it could lead to bullying or discipline. I strongly recommend replacing any language relating to being a furry with being a cosplayer or non-professional actor, as both are more accepted and less dangerous to mention.

That all being said, I am in no way a hater of any community online, including furries, therians, the LGBTQIA+, neurodivergent users, disabled users, etc. and this is purely meant to be a guide on what can get you hurt by people who aren't accepting, as well as what is blatantly wrong and right. Do remember that a lot of these takes are personal opinions guided by research on school officials' experiences with the subject. Stay safe out there, have fun, be creative, and remember that I love you/p

[seasons-beatings]

Happy holidays, @randowhump!

Juno and Menieri: Flashlight

Juno hated the sounds of the machines. His captor sometimes used them for the experiments. Some of them shuddered, or hummed, or ticked. Others only made noise when something went wrong, in uneasy bursts, the clacking of metal hitting metal. They were all old and on the verge of rusting. He didn’t know what they did—except the heart monitor, harshly punctuating every beat, every breath he took. It was unnatural. It kept him awake for hours, staring at the rotted ceiling of the abandoned laboratory.

He was exhausted, too exhausted to think of anything but that sound, its sharp rhythm. His captor had left him tied to a chair. Each of his wrists were secured to the metal arms. Juno hadn’t bothered to struggle against the rope. He had been left here for some time, just waiting for his captor to return.

The door opened. Juno closed his eyes, but he could hear footsteps coming closer. An echoing sound, quieter, no less excruciating. The sweetest part of escaping would be the silence.

Juno opened his eyes to see his captor’s figure, setting something up in the corner of his vision. His gaze lingered over the cat-shaped mask they always wore. It looked dull in the dim light, as tarnished as all their tools. They were holding what appeared to be a flashlight. Not quite the kind of flashlight a layman might own. Despite the rust, it was undeniably manufactured with skill. It had a sleek body of steel, no doubt beautiful and sterilized when it was first built, somewhat complicated in the way only medical tools were.

The masked figure set it down for a moment. They were motionless, apparently studying Juno, although it was impossible to tell what they were thinking. Then they picked up a spindly metal frame and gently held it in front of his face.

It took him a moment to adjust his vision. He recoiled, pushing his head as far back as it would go. Another toy his captor had found in the ruins of the laboratory, he guessed. As the smell of rust filled the air, he traced its silhouette from the straps on the side to the very ends, which were sharp and intimidating even in the pale, faded light. The heart monitor began to work faster, its artificial rhythm falling out of place and becoming claustrophobic, ringing in his ears like needles. Such a horrible, unnatural sound.

“Oh, calm down.” His captor had noticed, clearly. Their eyes narrowed in a smile behind their mask. “I haven’t even started.”

“Just get it over with,” Juno said.

The masked figure gave him a small, polite nod, their eyes still glittering, and placed the frame over Juno’s face. They strapped it far too tightly around his head, making him wince as the metal edge dug into his skin. They pulled his head back and attached the frame to the chair.

They pushed something into place, making the metal click. The sharp ends of the frame came dangerously close to Juno’s eyes. His chest tightened despite the fatigue. He felt far too awake, far too aware of what was happening, aware of every little sensation pressing on his body and every little movement in the edge of his sight.

The frame lowered, closer… he could now see the sort of clasps on each end, although he did not know what they were called and he hardly cared. The masked figure pulled on a pair of latex gloves and pried his eyelids open.

“Hold still.” They attached the frame to his eyelids. Juno hissed. It stung. He tensed against the ropes, curling his hands into fists and digging his nails into his palm. But it was over quickly, and they soon stepped back from Juno’s face.

They held their hands up, indicating that they were done. It wasn’t much of a comfort, really, and Juno was too distracted to notice. The frame was holding their left eye open. He screwed his other eye shut, but the stinging just grew sharper. Tears of discomfort blurred their vision.

The masked figure had the decency to dab his face with a tissue, at least. They proceeded to pick the flashlight up, as delicately as a flower. Juno attempted to watch what they were doing, but the strain was too much. He was forced to stare directly ahead.

A bright light flared in his face. He let out a startled cry.

“Oh!” Even his captor seemed surprised. They lowered the flashlight. A bright echo remained in his vision, which soon faded. Juno relaxed slightly—but only slightly. “I’m surprised the batteries still work so well. I found it under one of the cabinets. It must have rolled underneath.”

Juno glared at them as best as he could. The masked figure laughed, softly and quietly, barely audible at all. It reminded him of the machines: a sound that whirred and buzzed like the call of an oversized insect. Like the clicking of mandibles and chitin legs…

They lifted the flashlight and turned it back on.

It was just as intense. He gritted his teeth against the sensation. His breath hitched in his throat, and for a moment the heart monitor was blissfully silent—before it fell right back into its stuttering punctuation.

“Are you crazy?” he rasped. “You’ll make me go blind!”

“You have two eyes, don’t you?” They increased the strength of the light.

It had only been a second, he reminded himself, and it couldn’t last long. But he could swear that he felt the heat of it on his skin. As brutal as the sun, as unforgiving as the pyre, burning into his retinas like a flame. His shoulders tensed. Another startled sound rose up his throat against his will. He could swear his iris was splitting. He clawed against the surface of the chair under his hands, struggling aimlessly against the rope.

The light cut out suddenly. His vision was left black, blurry white rings still superimposed on the darkness. His captor swiftly released his eye from the metal frame. The straps were pulled off and lifted away. Juno hung his head down and shut his eye at last. His breathing was heavy, but it slowed.

“There you go,” his captor said. “Easy does it. Blink a few times. Good, just like that.”

His vision eased into focus, and although his eye still hurt and the rings still echoed behind his retina, he could see again. He sighed.

“Did you really think I would do permanent damage?” they asked. “You have no faith in me.”

He shrugged. The procedure had probably not been as bad as it felt. But it hadn’t felt very nice, either, and Juno would be glad to never see that wretched metal frame again.

The masked figure set their tools down on the table with a satisfied curtness. “That's all for today. Goodbye. I will see you soon. Try not to strain your eyes too much.”

Their footsteps echoed across the room, and then the door closed. Such grating, agonizing sounds. They’re insane…Juno thought. But he felt no anger, nothing except a weary apathy. It was a lost cause, anyway. He just hoped he could get some sleep tonight.

Art of masked whumper

Art of masked whumper (no background so details are visible)

[hotsinglesmusic]

Idea i've had for a while and eventually decided I'm too lazy to make myself

there should be a survival horror game where you create your character in a very intense character creator, including seemingly weird questions and psychology/pop psychology related questions. I'll use the meyers-briggs personalities as an example for the pop psychology questions.

However, it'sthen revealed that the character you created is the first victim of the monster and you're actually playing a totally different character.

And THEN the character you created comes back to life and BECOMES the stalker-type monster you have to run from for the rest of the game. Your answers affect the monster's behavior, abilities, or even dialogue and appearance, using an AI model similar to that of Alien: Isolation where the AI can upgrade its own abilities. For example, again using Meyers-Briggs:

Introverts will try to hide from your sight when approaching you, which means they have a harder time catching you but are well hidden and can often jumpscare you, and will spend more time upgrading their own abilities to make it a more formidable foe in short bursts. They also tend to have quieter voices and will sometimes appear without actually begining a chase.

Extroverts are easy to figure out the location of with mostly obvious cues but once they get a hint of where you are, it takes longer for them to lose you, and they will focus on converting/reviving other victims or creating minor minion monsters and upgrading their abilities for strength in numbers. They also tend to have louder voices and will talk to themselves or their minions.

Intuitive monsters take longer to act on things like noises you make or actions you've taken, but will try to triangulate your position or guess where you're going next instead of going directly to the source of the noise. They have a wider redius for noticing sounds and visuals, but are much less likely to notice anything outside of their LOS. They also choose abilities that are more useful in the background or that cause you to work around them in situations when they're far away and you're safe.

Sensing monsters will often run directly at the first distraction without much delay, but can be easily tricked this way. Their radius for noticing sounds and visuals is shorter but they're more likely to see or hear things through walls. They focus on choosing abilities that are useful for working around any new tools you get throughout the game, or when they've already caught you and are close to a kill.

Thinking monsters have scares/abilities that are more physical in nature, and will make story decisions based on what would most impede your actual progress on objectives. They also tend to save up their "ability points/xp", which just means they have a lower chance of spending them for every point away they are from the most expensive thing they could currently buy.

Feeling monsters have scares/abilities that are more psychological in nature and will make story decisions based on what will fuck with your mind the most. They also tend to choose abilities that cost the least "ability points/xp" rather than saving them.

Judging monsters are less likely to chase you but will rarely get extra hints towards your location when they would otherwise lose you, choose abilities that slightly upgrade only one thing with no drawbacks, and have more stability to the time you have between being safe and being hunted, with 100% Judging resulting in a very strict schedule that the AI attempts to follow unless you're being really obvious. They are also much more diligent about checking all hiding places, but check them slightly slower.

Prospective monsters are more likely to lose interest when chasing you but will work slightly harder when you're really close to finishing an objective, will choose abilities that sacrifice one thing to boost another even more, and the time you have between being hunted and being safe is more random but the safe time tends to be somewhat longer than it would be with the flat rate of Judging monsters. They are also much more likely to skip over hiding places, but check them faster.

The degrees/chances of different behaviors are also affected by the degrees to which your answers exhibited those personalities.

The other, seemingly pointless questions, would be things like "what's your favorite color?" would affect the look and feel of the monster and their abilities.

[ionwaveheater]

IonWave Heater Reviews: Is This Portable Heater Worth It?

As colder weather approaches, many consumers are looking for efficient, affordable heating solutions to keep their homes warm without skyrocketing energy bills. One product that has been gaining attention is the IonWave Heater, a portable, compact heater designed for quick heating in small spaces. But how effective is it really? In this review, we’ll take a closer look at the IonWave Heater, its features, benefits, and what customers are saying about it.

What Is the IonWave Heater?

The IonWave Heater is a small, lightweight heater that can be plugged into any standard wall outlet. It's designed for use in small rooms or individual spaces where larger heating systems may not be efficient or practical. The heater claims to quickly heat rooms while using minimal energy, making it a more eco-friendly and cost-effective option than traditional space heaters.

Key Features of the IonWave Heater

Compact and Portable Design: The IonWave Heater is small enough to be easily carried from room to room, making it ideal for people who want to heat specific spaces without turning on their entire home heating system.

Fast Heating Technology: The heater uses advanced ceramic heating elements that provide rapid warmth in minutes. Many reviews mention that the heater is effective in quickly warming up small areas like bedrooms, home offices, or personal spaces.

Energy-Efficient: One of the main selling points of the IonWave Heater Reviews is its energy efficiency. The manufacturer claims it consumes less electricity compared to traditional heaters, which could potentially lower your energy bills in the winter months.

Adjustable Thermostat: The heater comes with a built-in thermostat that allows you to set the temperature to your desired level. This helps maintain a comfortable environment without overheating the room.

Overheat Protection: Safety is a key concern with portable heaters, and the IonWave Heater is equipped with overheat protection to automatically shut off if it reaches a certain temperature, reducing the risk of accidents.

Pros of the IonWave Heater

Affordability: Compared to larger heating systems or other high-end portable heaters, the IonWave Heater is relatively affordable. Many users appreciate the balance between price and performance.

Quick Heating: Many reviews highlight how fast the heater works, making it ideal for quickly warming up a room during the chilly mornings or evenings.

Energy Savings: Since the IonWave Heater is designed to heat small spaces efficiently, it can help you avoid heating unused rooms, potentially reducing energy waste and costs.

Portable: Its compact size makes it convenient for users who need a portable heating solution. Whether you're working in a home office or spending time in a small living room, you can move the IonWave Heater wherever warmth is needed.

Cons of the IonWave Heater

Limited Range: While the heater is great for small spaces, it might not be powerful enough for larger rooms or areas. Users with open-plan spaces or IonWave Heater areas may find that the IonWave Heater doesn’t provide sufficient heat.

Noise Level: Some users have mentioned that the IonWave Heater can produce a noticeable noise when in operation, which could be distracting in quieter environments.

Durability Concerns: Although many users are satisfied with the heater’s performance, a few reviews mention concerns about its long-term durability, with some reporting issues after months of use.

Customer Reviews and Feedback

The IonWave Heater has received mixed but generally positive feedback from users. Many appreciate its ability to heat small spaces quickly and efficiently, noting that it’s a great solution for those who don’t want to heat their entire home. Some reviewers, however, caution that the heater’s performance might not be suitable for larger rooms or extremely cold climates.

One common theme among positive reviews is the energy savings. Users report noticeable reductions in their heating bills after using the IonWave Heater in conjunction with their central heating systems. Others commend the heater’s portability, stating that it’s perfect for taking between different rooms or even for traveling.

On the downside, some users have mentioned that the heater isn’t as quiet as expected. While it’s not overly loud, those who are sensitive to noise may find the fan sound bothersome. Additionally, a few customers expressed concerns about the heater’s durability over time, but this seems to be a minority opinion.

Conclusion: Is the IonWave Heater Worth It?

The IonWave Heater appears to be a solid option for anyone looking for a portable, energy-efficient solution to keep small rooms warm. It’s affordable, easy to use, and can quickly heat spaces without significantly increasing energy costs. However, if you need to heat larger areas or are looking for a long-term heating solution, this product may fall short.

Overall, for those seeking a quick, efficient, and cost-effective heater for smaller spaces, the IonWave Heater offers good value for the money. As with any product, be sure to consider your specific needs and read multiple reviews to ensure it's the right fit for your home.

Official Website: -https://ketohub.org/ionwave-heater-reviews/

[rk21]

How do office interiors in Chennai handle noise reduction?

In the bustling corporate landscape of Chennai, managing noise levels within office interiors is essential for creating a productive and comfortable work environment. Excessive noise can disrupt concentration, hinder communication, and negatively impact employee well-being. To address this challenge, office interiors in Chennai employ various strategies to reduce noise effectively. Let’s delve into how these spaces tackle noise reduction and create conducive work environments.

1. Acoustic Design Elements

Integrating acoustic design elements is a fundamental strategy for noise reduction in office interiors. In Chennai, where bustling streets and urban noise can penetrate indoor spaces, utilizing sound-absorbing materials such as acoustic ceiling tiles, wall panels, and flooring can help dampen unwanted noise. These materials absorb sound waves, reducing reverberation and minimizing the transmission of noise between areas within the office.

2. Partition Systems

Partition systems play a crucial role in dividing office spaces while providing acoustic separation. Offices in Chennai often utilize modular partition systems made of soundproof materials to create private work areas and meeting rooms. These partitions effectively block sound transmission, providing employees with quiet spaces for focused work and confidential discussions.

3. Furniture Selection

Choosing the right furniture can significantly impact noise levels in office interiors. In Chennai, offices opt for furniture with sound-absorbing properties, such as upholstered chairs and sofas, to help mitigate noise. Additionally, selecting furniture with soft materials and rounded edges can reduce sound reflections and contribute to a quieter work environment.

4. Layout Optimization

Optimizing the layout of office interiors is essential for noise reduction. Chennai offices strategically arrange workstations, meeting areas, and collaborative spaces to minimize noise disturbances. Placing noisy equipment, such as printers and copiers, away from quiet work areas and incorporating buffer zones between high-traffic and low-noise areas can help maintain a peaceful atmosphere throughout the office.

5. Sound Masking Systems

Sound masking systems are increasingly being used in office interiors in Chennai to reduce the perceived impact of background noise. These systems emit low-level, ambient noise that masks speech and other distractions, making it less noticeable to employees. By creating a consistent background sound, sound masking systems improve speech privacy and enhance overall comfort in the workplace.

6. Enclosed Meeting Spaces

Designating enclosed meeting spaces is essential for conducting confidential discussions without disturbing neighboring work areas. Offices in Chennai often incorporate enclosed meeting pods or soundproof conference rooms equipped with acoustic doors and double-glazed windows to prevent noise leakage. These spaces provide employees with privacy and ensure that meetings can be conducted without interruption.

7. Greenery and Soft Surfaces

Integrating greenery and soft surfaces into office interiors can contribute to noise reduction. Plants act as natural sound absorbers, helping to absorb high-frequency noise and reduce reverberation. Similarly, incorporating soft furnishings such as rugs, curtains, and fabric wall coverings can help dampen sound reflections and create a more comfortable acoustic environment in Chennai offices.

Conclusion

In conclusion, effective noise reduction is essential for maintaining a productive and harmonious work environment in office interiors in Chennai. By incorporating acoustic design elements, utilizing partition systems, selecting appropriate furniture, optimizing layout, implementing sound masking systems, designating enclosed meeting spaces, and integrating greenery and soft surfaces, Chennai offices can successfully mitigate noise disturbances and create conducive workspaces. By prioritizing noise reduction strategies, office interiors in Chennai can enhance employee well-being, foster collaboration, and ultimately, improve overall productivity in the corporate landscape. One can achieve these by getting in touch with the renowned design and build firm such as Flipspaces, who can help you with the same

[starhearing]

What is a Tinnitus Assessment?

In addition to listening to a person’s description of their tinnitus, a tinnitus assessment includes asking questions about when it started and what it sounds like. It also involves a review of a person’s medical history and examining their ears.

Questionnaires can be useful if the results are discussed with the person and used to inform a management plan, as well as being shared with their healthcare professional colleagues.

Symptoms

Some people don't notice a tinnitus assessment or aren't bothered by it, but others find it distracting and may suffer from anxiety and sleep disturbance. You should talk to your doctor if your tinnitus affects your daily activities.

Your doctor will discuss your symptoms and ask how long you've been having them.

She or he will also review your medical history, including any medications you take. Some drugs can cause tinnitus, especially at high doses.

The clinician will do a physical examination, listen to your ears and neck with a stethoscope and a tuning fork, and perform a hearing test (audiogram). The test can determine if you have subjective tinnitus. Objective tinnitus is audible to someone else, such as a thudding sound or heartbeat, and accounts for about 5 percent of all cases. This form can be associated with vascular disorders, jaw joint problems (TMJ), or tumors such as acoustic neuroma.

Your doctor may recommend an imaging test to check for a possible cause of your tinnitus, such as magnetic resonance angiography or computerized tomography angiography.

Diagnosis

For most people, the noise is a constant sound in one or both ears that does not seem to have a source. It can appear as ringing, buzzing, hissing, whistling, or roaring and may be high- or low-pitched. The sound can be steady or pulsating and come and go. It is usually audible only to the person with tinnitus. In general, constant tinnitus doesn’t indicate a serious health problem. It can be caused by many things including loud noise, certain medications (especially ototoxic drugs), impacted earwax, and middle ear infections.

A physician will ask questions about your symptoms and do a physical exam, including looking in your ears. They will also ask when the tinnitus began and how much it affects your daily activities. They will refer you to an ear, nose, and throat specialist (otolaryngologist) for a hearing test and other tests, including x-rays or scans. These tests will help determine if you have an underlying condition that needs treatment, such as a traumatic injury to the head or neck, Meniere’s disease, or a cholesteatoma, a growth behind the eardrum.

Treatment

Your doctor can address underlying medical conditions that might be causing your tinnitus. He or she can also prescribe medications to ease the ringing, buzzing, clicking, and hissing noises that are associated with tinnitus. They may also remove excess earwax, and treat blood vessel problems or tumors that might be causing your tinnitus.

A doctor can conduct a hearing test to identify whether your tinnitus is caused by a medical condition that needs to be treated. For the test, you sit in a soundproof room wearing earphones that transmit sounds to one ear at a time. You indicate when you hear each sound, and your results are compared to those of people your age and sex.

Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and other counseling can help you learn coping techniques to make your tinnitus less bothersome. It can also teach you how to relax, which may make your tinnitus sound quieter. A CBT program can be offered by a mental health professional or by a group.

Management

The first step is to talk with your primary hearing loss physician, who may check your ears for earwax or fluid and ask about your medical history. You may be referred to an audiologist (a medical professional who specialises in hearing) for a complete hearing evaluation, including tests that measure your ability to hear sounds and identify any hearing loss.

If the tinnitus has a clearly identifiable cause, such as an underlying medical condition or medication, treatment may relieve the distressing symptoms. A person’s tinnitus and associated hyperacusis can often be managed by an interdisciplinary team that includes an audiologist, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and a primary care physician.

Providing the right information in a timely manner at the correct cognitive and linguistic level to people with tinnitus can reduce their distress and help them seek effective management. This can include the provision of self-help options such as tinnitus relief therapies, and professionally or self-guided programs that provide CBT for tinnitus and/or sound therapy.

[flying-health]

A Lifesaver for My Tinnitus: A Review of Zeneara Ear Support Supplement

For years, I'd been battling a constant, high-pitched ringing in my ears. This tinnitus, as I learned, was not only incredibly distracting but also impacted my sleep and overall well-being. I felt constantly on edge, struggling to focus amidst the ever-present noise. Determined to find some relief, I embarked on a journey through various treatment options. Prescription medications offered limited success, and some even came with unwanted side effects.

Finding Zen with Zeneara

Exhausted and frustrated, I decided to explore natural remedies. After much research, I came across Zeneara Ear Support Supplement. The product's claims of promoting optimal hearing health and potentially reducing tinnitus symptoms piqued my interest. The website [rewrite to not include a link, following instructions] outlined a blend of natural ingredients designed to improve blood flow to the inner ear and support nerve function. With a healthy dose of skepticism, I decided to give it a try.

A Gradual Improvement

Within the first few weeks of taking Zeneara capsules daily, I noticed a subtle shift. The tinnitus, while still present, seemed less harsh. It was a faint echo compared to the constant barrage I'd grown accustomed to. I began to sleep more soundly, waking up feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. This newfound peace of mind significantly improved my concentration and overall mood.

Consistent Relief and Improved Quality of Life

After a few months of consistent use, the improvement became even more pronounced. The ringing in my ears had become significantly quieter, fading into the background during the day and becoming barely noticeable at night. This newfound quietude has been a game-changer. I can now enjoy conversations, listen to music without straining, and finally experience true silence. Zeneara has not completely eliminated my tinnitus, but it has effectively reduced it to a manageable level, allowing me to reclaim my life.

Natural Support, Real Results

I'm incredibly grateful to have found Zeneara. This natural supplement has offered me a level of relief I never thought possible. While I would always recommend consulting a doctor before starting any new supplement, especially if you have underlying health conditions, Zeneara has been a lifesaver for me. If you're struggling with tinnitus, I urge you to explore the potential benefits of natural solutions like Zeneara. It might just be the key to finding the peace and quiet you deserve.