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gingerbreton · 3 years ago

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You have to know someone

Fandom: FHR

Pairing: Chargestep (Ricardo Ortega/Lila Becker)

Summary: Back in the good old days, Ortega follows Sidestep on a jaunt through the Los Diablos underworld.

Notes: this was totally inspired by a discussion with @kittlesandbugs about how ‘streetwise’ step has got to at least be a little bit shady. they didn’t hear about the rat king in the queue at the post office.

Rating: T Word Count: 2992 [AO3 Link]

---

Los Diablos. 2009

“Just try to be cool, ok?”

Lila flashes a look back over her shoulder. Not sharp. More like preemptively exasperated.

“Hey! I’m always cool.”

Ortega’s mock outrage shifts to a Cheshire Cat grin at the way his partner (in crime, for today) tries to control the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but already he can’t imagine not knowing the smile that hid beneath the mask.

“Rangers Unlimited named me ‘Coolest Man of the Year’ 2007.”

“Oh God.”

Still, her regrets mustn’t be quite enough to send him packing. Yet.

They’ve been walking for nearly half an hour, and though Ortega’s certain they’re still somewhere in central Los Diablos, traffic noise has dulled to a low drone. The shining streets have given way to rundown lanes lined with shuttered businesses. Graffiti paints the walls; charting eras of villains, heroes, whoever ‘woz ‘ere’, and the occasional obligatory dick.

They’ve hopped fences. Turned down enough alleys that Ortega is certain Lila’s trying to sidestep his sense of direction. It’s working. If he hadn’t been preening so hard at being allowed to tag along he’d have paid more attention, maybe found his way back on his own some time. No chance of that now.

“So where are you taking me exactly?”

If you don’t ask, you don’t get.

“I’m not taking you anywhere. You decided to invite yourself along."

Or, you just don’t get.

Lila hops a railing, landing lightly at the bottom of some steps and pushes on the basement door. By all rights it should creak, but it doesn’t make a sound.

Interesting. Now we’re getting somewhere.

She pauses before pressing forwards, gaze intense within the shadows of her hood when she swings around to face him. The serious line of her mouth brooks no argument. Even though she has to know he will.

“Think you can shut up and follow my lead for once?”

“So bossy. I like this look on you, Becks.” The wink earns him a swift punch to the gut. “I’ll be on my best behaviour. Scout’s honour.” Temporarily chastised, he even tries to do the salute.

The door opens into an unexpectedly airy warehouse space. Long abandoned. The shell of a highrise hiding something else. Ortega makes a mental note to look out for similar facades. And the people who might use them.

Oh but this isn’t their destination. Lila hurries on ahead, crossing the floor two paces to a single one of his, down a second short flight of stairs, her path halted by a solid metal door.

She knocks a rhythm which could easily be mistaken for impatience, but there’s melody hidden within it.

A grate snaps open and a pair of violet eyes glance over Lila before sliding to him and narrowing. A small cough for attention from his partner is the closest thing to pass for words in a conversation of pointed looks, but after a moment long enough to make his skin itch, the door opens.

Oh this is definitely going to be illegal.And so very fun.

The air is cool and musty down here. All the noise of the city has melted away. Somewhere along the way while he wasn’t paying attention, the concrete passage has turned to brick. It almost looks like—

“Is this the old tunnel system?”

“Uh huh.” Loosely strung lamplight gleams off Lila’s smirk as a thought catches her. (pretty… she’d kill him for thinking it). “So do as the nice lady I paid off says and don’t stray from the path. We wouldn’t want you to end up a footnote in some Urban Legend.”

“Or run into the Catastrofiend.” It’s only half a joke.

Sparse lights guide the way like will-o’wisps flickering in the gloom, leading who knows where. Just deeper. Darker. Danger? At a glance, his partner seems unconcerned.

Ortega finds his excitement growing as the air warms and the bustle of movement and distant voices echo towards him.

Where are you taking me?

Two corners later and the tunnel—along with a dozen others—spill down into a sudden nexus. Loud and busy. Stalls fill the space. People fill the aisles. Low light. Heavy air. Flickering neon.

...a black market? The black market??

“This place is real?” It takes all his self control (hah) not to drag his hood down to get a better look. When Lila tried to skip out on him to meet a contact, he never imagined this. “I thought it was just a saying…”

“Well, it is and it isn’t.”

She chuckles. Like she loves to do when she’s got one over on him. Shocking the unshockable is always a pleasure (he should know).

“How did you find out about it?”

“You have to know someone who knows someone.”

“And who do you know?”

Never could help pushing his luck.

“Who says I’m not someone?” Lila’s long smile is almost wicked against the backdrop of Los Diablos’s underbelly. Almost. He resists the urge to boop that sharp little nose.

“I know a lot of someones.” Her gaze drops. More humble. More her. “A lot of someones, a lot better than they know.” She taps her temple.

Their tunnel is one of the highest. Yet another flight of stairs descends into the hubbub, but for now it affords a tantalising view over proceedings. There’s a stall for everything you could want or need—provided your interests are less than legal.

“Stick close and keep your hood up.” Lila beckons him to follow with a curl of her finger (flirt).

“You gonna hold my hand?” His shit-eating grin is dazzling in the low light.

“In your dreams.”

“Oh no, in my dreams—”

Lila scoffs, leading the way down into the crowd before he has a chance to finish. Against her own advice, she lowers her hood. Neon light paints freckled skin bright pink, stealing all the fun of seeing if he made her blush. Damn.

She moves differently here. Chameleon that she is. Just the right balance of I belong and don’t fuck with me. Never letting eye contact linger more than just a glance.

How many masks do you own, Becks? Is there a world you can’t slip into at least for a short while?

For now she acts as tour guide, pointing out stalls and whispering underworld gossip as they weave their way through the crush of warm bodies.

Neon crackles and glows. Vendors bellow their wares: mods, weapons, tech. Anything ranging from just this side of legal but unethical to military grade. There’s a back-alley doctor, ready to tend to anything the authorities might have done to you. A stall with boosted pets—‘no returns’ (did that dog just catch fire?). If the rhythmic thump of bass (or the pounding of fists against flesh and sound of breaking glass) is anything to go by, somewhere in the back there’s a bar. A rowdy one

Might be worth a visit. Can’t pass up on the chance for a great story.

And it wouldn’t be Los Diablos without the so-called ‘hero drug’ waiting to add the unsuspecting and the desperate to it’s mortality stats.

The aisles are packed with everyone from the obviously Enhanced and the seemingly ordinary—all crammed in like sardines, moving from stall to stall. They could be mistaken for any busy market crowd if it wasn’t for the unusual merchandise—half of which is available in Los Diablos proper, just at extortionate prices and only to the ‘right’ people. Not every criminal is a “villain”. And it seems like half the “criminals” here are just that for getting their hands on things an unfair system doesn’t want them to have.

But there are villains here. The lower budget types Ortega barely recognises��ones the Rangers don’t tend to get involved with (they’re vigilante territory). There are vigilantes here too—he’s sure he recognises a couple of faces in the distance before they vanish into the crowd.

With anyone but Lila watching his back, the intoxicating buzz that comes with this kind of danger (is he the wolf amongst sheep? or the lone sheep waiting to be torn apart?) would be tempered by an edge of caution he’ll never admit to. But there are no dampeners here. Nothing to stop Lila’s mind unfurling. Reaching out. Ever watchful. Always ready for signs of trouble.

It’s just one of the things he likes about partnering with her; he can be on his worst behaviour and still get forewarned if someone’s spoiling to kick his ass.

Unless it's her.

“If you see anything you want, buy it now.” Lila glances back, teasing. Smirks too at the confusion on his face. “You’ll never find this place again. It moves. Constantly,” she adds, as if she could read his determination to prove her wrong.

Well, if that’s the case, he might as well let the flow of the crowd pull him in an interesting direction. See what it has to offer. Not the safest idea, but this place is too exciting for that. Every stall screams for attention. How can he not pause to look?

The first one that catches his eye is ‘Lost & Found’ (good one), selling quite the spread of knockoff and stolen mods; probably the most illegal store here, at least if you ask the corporations that made the originals, even though there’s not a lethal piece of tech on display.

Halfway up the next aisle the scent of ozone catches in his nostrils, draws him through the crowd to a makeshift tattoo parlor. The purple-haired mod within is running the signage and machinery off her own internal generators. That’s one way to burn yourself out. She gives him the finger when his attention overstays its welcome.

“Ocular fibre optic enhancements! Discount for the pair.”

The owner of the opposite stall (‘installation while you wait’ ...yeesh) yells out into the crowd, locking onto him. Now he says it, Ortega can see the red dots behind his irises—hopefully they’re hooked up to something less skilled at recognition than a stranger’s memory. Still, the man peers a little too keenly.

“They look wonderful, but I’m afraid it would break my poor mother’s heart.” Ortega shrugs helplessly, theatrically, beaming his brightest smile from the shadowed safety of his hood. “You see, I have my father’s eyes. Passed down through the family.”

He lets the crowd swallow him before the man can reply. He’s lingered too long, best find his guide, keep an eye out for vibrant red hair low amongst the crowd.

Lila jumps at his hand on her shoulder. Curses like always when he startles her. Curses him more for not sticking close.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“You worried about me, Becks?”

Couldn’t keep the smug out of his grin if he tried.

“Just...don’t wander off, idiot.”

It’s not a no.

Moving on through the crowd, at her side this time, he can see she does have contacts here—not that he didn’t take her at her word. Not really. Amongst a sea of strangers there’s an occasional nod. Some scowls (returned twofold). A handshake (palmed some paper). Another hand slipped into her jacket pocket (another note she doesn’t unfold until the next aisle).

Before Ortega has a chance to nosy over her shoulder, Lila’s already read and folded up the message. Sharp lines. Careful. Deliberate. Trying to look like she’s in control—which means she’s rattled.

No chance to press her on it, she’s already up on tiptoes scanning the market like a meerkat.

“This way.”

Lila doesn’t wait for a reply before pushing on through the crowd.

–-

One of the larger stores sits at the far end of the market, recessed into a tunnel entrance, all its wares carefully housed behind glass. The price tags on some of these things wouldn’t look out of place at one of Hollow Ground’s auctions.

The proprietor has their back to them, busy dealing with another customer. Their coiled hair bobs as they laugh politely, trying to secure a pricey sale.

While they wait, Lila crouches in front of one of the display cases—high tech weapons. Everything ranging from non-lethal to extremely deadly; portable to very much not so. Her attention lingers on a little energy caster.

Ortega’s attention lingers on her.

“Welcome.”

The owner’s attention has turned to them. No, not to them. To Lila. Amber eyes that glow almost too brightly to be natural (boost maybe?) are fixed on her. And hers are locked in return.

Something in the air crackles but not the way he does—no lightning here—more like lake ice. Cold. Dangerous. Enticing.

Across the counter, gloved hands reach beneath, returning with a pill box. And Lila eyes it oh so carefully. He eyes it too. The delicately removed pill is pale blue with a bright orange letter stamped on it—no time for Ortega to make out which before they swallow the pill dry.

He’s missing something—everything—about this meeting.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, little bird.” They smile. This is getting interesting. “What brings you here?”

“Rumours.” Lila stands, smiling a smile that isn’t hers. “You’re the only person I know who’s qualified to know the truth.”

There’s no talk of trust here.

“And what do you have for me?” They fold their arms. “I like you, little bird, but you know nothing in this town is free.”

“My friend here has funds burning a hole in his pocket.”

Now that’s Lila’s smile; lips tug into a lopsided smirk. Ortega chuckles. This is his punishment for insisting on tagging along. Good job he always carries too much cash.

“Well in that case, please feel free to peruse my wares.” They make a wide gesture towards the glass cases. “My assistant will help you choose something… appropriate.”

The air already tastes like danger, but Ortega can’t help himself. “And may I ask who you are…?”

“You can call me whatever you like.” Ortega’s outstretched hand is met grip-for-grip. Smile met sparkling white tooth-for-tooth. “Marshal. But it shan’t be my real name.”

Shouldn’t have opened his big mouth.

Is that cold sweat blooming on his back? The sound of thin ice cracking beneath his feet? But he’s been in far deeper shit than this, so why should—

Oh...these stakes aren’t his.

One glance at Lila and mierda.

She’s only recently trusted him with her face—not long enough for him to know whether he’s reading tension or real fear in those stormy grey eyes. But he hates it. Never wants his stupid ego to make her look that way again.

As if he has any chance of keeping that promise, but at least he’ll try.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Ortega settles on.

“Indeed.”

Seemingly satisfied that he’ll behave, the owner leads Lila past a hung divider into the back, leaving Ortega to browse the merchandise. And sorely wishing he could eavesdrop.

Becks, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Will this do?” He points to a display case. The assistant, who has been watching him with an unmistakable air of impatience and distrust, nods without a word. “Can you gift wrap it?”

She doesn’t hit him, at least.

---

It’s five tense minutes of waiting, loitering just outside the store, trying not to draw too much attention. Patience isn’t Ortega’s strong suit—it’s easier when Becks is there to chastise him for fidgeting, at least then he can deny it.

“You ready?” It’s Lila’s turn to make him jump. A stray crackle of static jumps between them.

“Did you get what you needed?”

She nods, looking a little pale (even for her), but no worse for wear.

“Anything useful?”

“Not for right now.” Lila chews her lip, mulling over whatever she learned. “But… if it becomes relevant, it could be a lifesaver.”

They drift away from the stall, keeping to the quieter fringes of the market, Ortega keeping watch this time while Lila stays caught in her own head—seemingly oblivious to how many tantalising questions are hanging in the air around her.

Ortega manages to keep them to himself for all of about half an aisle until the juiciest one can’t contain itself any longer.

“Little bird, huh?” he teases. “Can I—”

“No.”

Usually she sidesteps his prying, this time he runs headlong into a brick wall. There’s history there—not the good kind. Another piece for the puzzle he’s slowly putting together.

“I was just playing, Lila.” Hands up, he backs down quickly. Sometimes even he knows when to drop things.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She doesn’t shrug off the hand he lays on her shoulder.

That bad, huh?

---

The market bustle has long faded into the darkness behind them, the only sound left is the fizz and crackle of loosely strung lamps when drips from the cool tunnel walls hit them. The way out seems far lengthier than the way in (definitely no chance of finding his way back then) and far colder.

Paper crinkles as he pulls his jacket tighter—the contents of the bag jab a reminder of his purchase into Ortega’s hip.

“I got you something.” It’s meant to be teasing, but comes out all too genuine (damn).

He can’t help it though when she’s still so on edge. And that look. This close she has to tilt her head right back to look at him. Too jittery to remember to glare.

“Really?”

Kindness always catches her off guard. Leaves her unsteady. Softens her gaze (dangerously).

Luckily for them both, her confusion quickly melts into a small laugh when she opens the bag.

“You’re feeling brave. Arming me when you enjoy annoying me so much.”

“I obviously did not think this through,” Ortega laughs in return.

“...thank you.”

The elbow she gives him might not quite class as affectionate, but the smile she’s aiming at the floor might.

#chargestep #fhr #oc: lila becker #ricardo ortega #sidestep #my writing #i'm very much still finding my feet writing new fandom stuff but i had fun

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happylittlenarwhal · 3 years ago

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Oh shit, here we go again. This took too long to write but I hope it was worth it? Same reader as the last posts. Eventually I'll compile this into a proper fic.

Confession time for these adorable idiots! Reader is 25, Bruno is turning 30.

"Bruno..." You tried to calm your nerves as you walked towards his room. "Before I give you your birthday present, I wanted to ask you something..." You trailed off.

His eyebrow raised. "You know you can ask me anything. What's on your mind?

"I was wondering..." The words were just on the tip of your tongue as the two of you moved closer to one another.

"Y-yes?"

Panic set in. What if he didn't believe you? What if his sisters were wrong and he didn't feel the same? There was one way to prove it though...

"Would you do a vision for me?" You blurted out.

His face fell from hope to horror in less than a second.

"Nope. Absolutely not." He opened his door and shut it right behind him.

"Bruno!" You pounded on the door.

"Y/N, you know how most of my visions turn out." He groaned, just on the other side of his door.

You decided to try and lighten the mood. You slumped down dramatically to the floor. "A humble villager of Encanto, the village your family created and serves comes to you begging you to use the gift you were blessed with, and you would deny them?" He cracked his door open slightly and you tumbled in. You looked up at his stone faced expression, not unlike the carvings around his cave. "Too much?"

He nodded.

"Sorry, Bruno, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"Y/N, what could be so important that you'd risk ruining our friendship? What if you don't like what you see?"

You stood up too fast and Bruno had to help you balance. "First of all, I'd never let that happen. You're stuck with me. And second, I know how it works. You don't control the future, you're not at fault for anything."

"Yeah, you say that now, but-"

"You don't trust me?"

"N-no, it's not that, it just...I don't like doing them for friends or family. I don't want you to hate me! You're the only person outside of my family that's stuck around this long. I can't lose you." He admitted.

"Bruno..." you cupped a hand to his cheek, and smiled when he leaned into your touch, "Nothing would change the way I feel about you. I could never hate you. You know that right?" You searched his eyes for an answer. "I promise, no matter what we see, I won't be upset with you."

"Y/n..." He sighed. "You're not letting this go are you?"

"That's correct."

"And I'm not getting my birthday present until I agree, am I?"

"That is also correct."

"Ok, I'll do it!" He threw his hands in the air. "Eres insufrible."

"You say insufferable, I say tenacious!" You cheerily replied. You turned to go further into his room, when you were met with the curtain of sand. "Oh wait...I forgot about the sand."

"Seriously?"

"Here," you started to tie up your hair in a bun. "Give me your ruana." You looked at him expectantly.

"What?"

"I don't want to get sand all over my new dress."

He crossed his arms and shook his head. "Uh-uh! It comes with the territory. You want to know your future? You deal with the sand."

"Please Bruno?" You asked with puppy dog eyes. "I got this made special for tonight. I wouldn't want to disappoint tu madre."

You were in a stand-off and about to back down, when Bruno groaned and ripped off his ruana. "Fine." He threw the green bundle at you, rougher than expected. From inside came disgruntled squeaking.

"Ricardo!" Bruno came rushing over to you. "Lo siento, amigo. I forgot you were in my hood." The rat wriggled out of his grasp and perched itself on your shoulder. You scratched under its chin.

"He doesn't seem to like you right now." You chuckled.

"Well, this is just great. You steal my ruana and my rat." He mumbled.

"We don't have to go through with this if you don't want to." You said quietly.

"No, no...you said this was important. I'll do it," a mischievous grin spread across his face, "but you'll owe me."

"No, please don't make me read for Carolina again, I love your stories but-"

He put a finger to your lips. "Carolina and Juanita."

You gave a look of defiance before finally relenting. "Deal." You quickly pulled the ruana on, careful not to disturb Ricardo and put the hood up to cover your hair. You posed yourself like the image on his door. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculous." He said with a wry grin.

"Hey!"

He sighed and ran a hand through his curls before taking your arm. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

You slid down the sand dune with ease. "That's always so much fun," you giggled. He helped you up with a look of grim determination on his face. You made your way to the rising platform at the base of the stairs, but Bruno stopped you before you could hop on.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To your vision cave?"

"When a humble villager wants a prophecy, they walk up the stairs." He threw your words back at you with glee.

"You can't be serious."

"If you want me to do this, you're getting the whole song and dance." He explained as the platform began to rise. "Ricardo will keep you company."

"You've gotta be kidding me!" You exclaimed.

"I'll see you at the top!" He yelled back down. "Besides, this will give you time to think about what you really want!"

"Bruno Madrigal!" You screamed in frustration and you heard laughter above you. "I already know what I want..." You said to no one but Ricardo.

The climb up was excruciating. Your feet and legs ached. Although Bruno was right. It did give you time to think. So much for looking your best tonight. You were sure that you were sweating through your dress. The ruana didn't seem like such a good idea now. According to his sisters, he did have feelings for you. Were you a coward for trying to force a confession using a vision? You knew it was a big ask. You started feeling bad for putting him through all of this, until you saw his shit-eating grin at the top of the stairs. You decided then and there that you could torture this man a little longer.

"Took you long enough." He teased as he helped you take the final few stairs.

You hunched over, putting your hands on your knees while you caught your breath. "Did- did you ever think- that maybe people wouldn't mind a bad outcome, if they didn't have to deal with those damn stairs?" You sat down to rest. "And you think I'm insufferable? Your stairs are insufferable. I'm going to get blisters..." You whined.

Bruno sat down next to you. "Eat, you'll be fine." He pulled out a wrapped arepa he had hidden away from breakfast. "I was going to give this to the rats, but I think you need it more." He gave you a lopsided grin.

You bumped him with your shoulder. "Thank you. What a gentleman." You took a bite and sighed, Julieta's magic already soothing your aches and pains. You gave a few bites to Ricardo who had made his way to your lap.

Bruno watched you with the sweetest smile on his face, before frowning, remembering why you were here. "You know, you haven't even told me what I'm going to be looking for." He said meekly.

"Oh, right..." It was now or never. Maybe you wouldn't need the vision if he caught on to what you were trying to tell him.

"Well?"

You turned to look him right in the eyes. "I want to know what will happen if I kiss the person I have feelings for."

"What?!" He lept up in surprise. Ricardo skittered away farther into his room, "We're doing this over a crush?" He started anxiously pacing. "You said this was important!"

"It is important!" You countered, "And it's not a crush!" You started blushing again. "I'm in my twenties, and you're about to be thirty!"

He turned back to you. "If this is so important, why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?" He asked, rubbing his arm nervously, "We tell each other everything. What happened to open communication?"

You stood up and made your way over to him. "I just...hadn't gotten around to telling you. I want to see how the vision goes first." You explained lamely, as he stared at you silently asking you to continue. You took a breath. Fine...if he wanted to know..."Ugh! He's just..." you waved your hands around trying to describe him, "...some guy. We've been friends for awhile, and I think he might have feelings for me as well? He's sweet and a little bit shy. He's an amazing storyteller. He can always cheer me up. He's great with kids, and animals too." You smiled at him softly. "Oh, and he's very handsome." You searched his face, praying that he would figure it out.

He couldn't keep eye contact with you. "Sounds like quite the catch." He told you in a sad voice. This adorably thick-headed man. The vision was your only option.

"Bruno, please?" You tugged on his arm, pulling him closer to his cave. "I've already embarrassed myself enough. Can we just get on with it?"

"Yeah." His voice cracked and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Let's get on with it."

Bruno quickly fell into his pre-vision routine. You watched as he poured a circle of sand and prepared his bundles of leaves. You had seen him work before, doing house calls, but getting your own vision in his cave was an entirely new experience for you.

He sat down cross-legged and motioned for you to do the same. "You've seen this enough to know the deal," he closed eyes and held out his hands for you, "Hold on tight."

You grasped his clammy hands, noticing how much your own were shaking. His brow furrowed in concentration, looking more like his door than you had ever seen him. The ground rumbled slightly as sand began to slowly whip around you. He opened his eyes and you were dazzled by their green glow. You wondered how long you could stare into them before going blind. He gave a nervous laugh at your scrutiny. "Y/N, you might want to look up."

Your head snapped up to the two figures forming in the sand. You were in someone's lap. Your hands were in their curls, foreheads touching, lips brushing. It was hard to discern at first, but once you saw that your figure was wearing his ruana, you knew without a doubt who the other figure would be.

"Bruno, look!" You shouted over the wind.

You looked back down at him. His head was low, his eyes darting around, his breath coming quickly. "I don't want to see this."

You wrestled one of your hands from his to gently lift his chin. Bruno flinched at the contact. His eyes immediately met yours. "Yes, you do." You smiled gently at him as you turned his face upward towards the vision.

His eyes went wide. "I-is that me?"

"How's that for open communication?" You teased him as the vision shifted.

"I don't understand, why am I in your vision?" he asked as you both watched his figure, now hovered over yours, grasping your hips.

Your jaw dropped when his hand delved under your skirts. "Madre de Díos!"

"I'm stopping the vision!" He yelled out.

"Don't you dare!" You hissed and gripped his hands tighter.

Both of your faces burned with embarrassment as the scene progressed.

Bruno avoided eye contact with you. His gaze flitting between the ground and your figures. You, on the otherhand, couldn't look away. You've never seen him take control like that before. At least it looked like the two of you were enjoying yourselves.

Thankfully, the vision shifted again. This time, you were alone.

"What's happening?" You asked Bruno, straining to look around the cave. "Where did you go?"

Your figure was older than you were now. You were kneeling, crying and clutching something to your chest. He looked up to see the scene above him. "I knew it," he muttered under his breath, "Of course I would mess the whole thing up..." Your heart dropped to your stomach. You knew he tended to cut visions short at the first sight of misfortune. "I should've never-"

"Bruno." your voice cracked as you pleaded, "Please, keep going. Let's see if there's more." He looked back down at you with tears forming in eyes. He nodded and steeled himself as the vision shifted once more.

This time, you were together. You looked older than your parents. Your hair was shorter, his longer. Just like in the first scene, your foreheads were pressed closed and your eyes gazed lovingly at one another. His hand cupped your cheek and you gasped when you saw a wedding band on his finger. The vision dissolved as your lips met.

You covered your head as the sand rained down on you. Suddenly, it was just the two of you. You were brimming with excitement. Finally everything was out in the open. Bruno's eyes had gone back to their normal color, cast down on the tablet in his hands. You took in a shakey breath. "W-wow, Bruno...that was-"

"I-i'm sorry, y/n." His face turned towards you with an apologetic smile. It felt like ice in your veins.

"Bruno?" You quickly moved forward coming to rest on your knees in front of him, "What are you talking about?"

"This can't be what you wanted to see." His voice sounded hollow as turned the glass in his hands. The vision shifting between the first scene and the last. You wanted to scream. How could he still not see?

"Why wouldn't it be?" You asked in frustration, your tone coming out rougher than intended, "What did I ask you to see?"

His brows knitted together, "You asked to see what would happen if you kissed the person you have feel-" he cut himself off and you could see the final puzzle piece clicking into place for him. He scrambled to his knees, grabbing your shoulders. "You have feelings for me?!"

"I do." You chuckled at his shocked face.

"And..." He sat straighter, a confused smile on his lips. "You think I'm handsome?"

"If I remember correctly, I said 'very handsome'. And yes, I do." You smiled back and brushed his hair out of his face. "I think you're handsome, and sweet, and funny, and kind."

"And you knew I feel the same?"

"Not exactly? I was never one-hundred percent sure, but..." Your checks flushed again. "Your sisters might've told me about your rehearsal confession?" He groaned at his sisters' interference. "They said you stopped halfway through because you thought I didn't feel the same."

His hands dropped down to his lap as he looked at you with a sad smile. "I didn't want to get my hopes up. Cause, y'know, I'm me...a-and I didn't want to ruin our friendship if you hadn't felt the same way." He explained.

"I've felt this way for years." You replied immediately, "Since our first walk through town."

He looked at you in disbelief. "We've been torturing ourselves for years?"

"Seems that way." You hummed.

Bruno let out a laugh. "That means the vision, this whole thing- You!" He gasped dramatically, "You set me up!"

Your eyes went wide as you rushed out an explanation. "NO! It's just that- I've been trying to tell you for weeks. But every time, someone would interrupt." His amused grin got wider as you continued to get flustered. "I chickened out, I-I'm not good at this! And I know you aren't either, so stop laughing!" You shoved him playfully. "Ok, ok!" He stopped snickering, trying to put on a serious face before he burst out in anxious laughter. "Bruno!"

"Lo siento, I swear I'm not laughing at you." He put his hands up, in case you shoved him again, "Well, maybe I am. It's just...I've never seen you like this." A laugh bubbled up again, "All hot and bothered. You're usually the confident one..." he smiled softly, "It's cute."

A blush touched your cheeks again, "Es lo que tu me haces..." You murmured.

He was speechless for a moment before he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, please continue with your evil plan to kiss me." He teased. That earned him another soft shove.

"I asked for the vision because I wasn't sure if you'd believe me, if I just told you. You're not very subtle, but you can't take a hint to save your life, you know? But I knew how nerve-racking a vision would be for you, and then I felt guilty. A-and now I'm just rambling," You covered your face with your hands. "I thought the best way would be for you to see it yourself. I hope you're not mad at me?"

"What? No!" Bruno took your hands in his. "I could never be mad at you. I mean, yes. I thought it was going to be one of the worst experiences of my life, but," he cut you off before you could apologize, "I haven't had a vision that good since...well, since ever! ¡Díos mio!" His lovesick grin turned into horror.

"Bruno, what's wrong?"

"I made you climb the stairs! ¡Soy un idiota!" He fretted as he pulled you in for a hug. "You should be the one that's mad. I am so sorry."

"Don't be." You mumbled into his chest. "I kinda deserved it after teasing you so much."

"I thought my heart was going to implode..." he huffed, "Guess we're even then."

You pulled back to look at him, "I was surprised to see that much...uh...detail?" Bruno let out a nervous giggle. "I mean, I knew you were good with your hands, but I didn't know you were that good." You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

"Y/N!" He pleaded as his blush turned darker.

"What?" You asked innocently. "You're cute when you're all hot and bothered."

"Tú serás mi muerte." He sighed.

You laughed and shook your head, "Not according to your vision! I told you, you're stuck with me, Bruno Madrigal."

"So..." His hands traced your arms tentatively, "Does this mean you're happy with your vision?"

"Our vision." You corrected him. "And yes, cariño. I told you, nothing would change the way I feel about you. Although..." you decided to tease him some more, "I'm not a completely satisfied customer.

"What? W-why? Was it because you were crying in that one part?

"No, Bruno!" You cupped his cheeks in your hands. "Life's full of ups and downs, we don't even know what that part could mean." You smirked at him. "I'm not satisfied, because the first part hasn't happened yet." Your eyes flitted down to his lips and you held your breath waiting for his reaction.

"Oh!" His eyes lit up as he snaked his arms around you. "Is this OK?" He asked as his forehead came to rest on yours, lips brushing, just like in the vision.

"More than ok," you answered, before finally, finally, your lips were on his.

#bruno × reader #encanto #bruno madrigal

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outoftowninac · 3 years ago

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SEVENTH HEAVEN

1922

Seventh Heaven or 7th Heaven is a play in three acts by Austin Strong. It was originally produced and directed by John Golden. The leads were played by George Gaul as Chico and Helen Menken as Diane. Also in the cast of the play was Frank Morgan as Brissac.

Strong originally conceived of the play as a one-act in 1918. It was then titled simply “Heaven”. In May 1920 it was given its first performances by Jessie Bonstelle's Detroit stock company, which featured Katherine Cornell.

ACT I ~ A street in Paris. ACT II ~ "Heaven." Three days later. ACT III ~ Four years later.

A romance between Chico, a street cleaner and Diane, a young prostitute, blooms under the shadow of World War I.

The play made its premiere at the Lyceum in Elmira NY on May 11, 1922. Elmira was not a usual city for a premiere, and there were doubts whether the Lyceum could handle Broadway-scale scenery.

After the first performance, Golden reported that changes to the script were already being made.

“This evening author Strong is going to spend bis time in the gallery of the theater. He wants to get the opinion of the college girls and others who inhabit that portion of the playhouse.” ~ ELMIRA STAR-GAZETTE, MAY 13, 1922

The play moved from Elmira to Nixon’s Apollo Theatre on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City NJ on May 15, 1922. After Atlantic City, the play was variously re-titled as Three Candles, and Valor, before coming back to 7th Heaven. The play took the summer off.

Seventh Heaven ran on Broadway at the Booth Theatre from October 30, 1922, to July 1924 for a total of 704 performances. It became the 5th longest running non-musical play in Broadway history.

On December 3rd, just five weeks into the play’s run, tragedy struck when company member Fred Holloway (who played ‘the Rat’), unexpectedly died. The play was his long-awaited Broadway debut.

Two films were based on the play. On November 18, 1927, a silent film starring Janet Gaynor opened at the Stanley Theatre (later known as the Roxy) on the Boardwalk and Kentucky Avenue in Atlantic City.

The 1937 sound version opened at the Casino Theatre on Steel Pier in Atlantic City on March 26th. It starred Simone Simon and James Stewart. The film earned 5 Oscar nominations, winning in 3 categories.

The song “Diane” was written specifically for the film version.

In 1955, the play was the basis for a musical of the same title by Victor Young and Stella Unger. It was produced on Broadway at the ANTA Playhouse (now the August Wilson Theatre) on May 26th starring Gloria DeHaven, Kurt Kasznar, Robert Clary, Beatrice Arthur, and Ricardo Montalban. When the show ran into trouble, Jerome Robbins was brough in as ‘show doctor’. It ran just 44 performances.

#Seventh Heaven #7th Heaven #Austin Strong #Helen Menken #John Golden #1922 #Nixon's Apollo Theatre #Atlantic City #Booth Theatre #Broadway Play #Broadway Theatre #Frank Morgan

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ardellian · 4 years ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY

Tagged by @antigonick and @impossible-rat-babies, thank you! <3 Here's another bit I managed to drag up from that unfinished folder... Not technically a WIP, rather something I abandoned, but reading it now I don't hate it so here it goes.

tw: blood, surgery

It’s more than an hour later when he finally finds himself with space to think. Staring at his palm in an ambulance, slowly opening and closing the hand. The whole arm tingles, from the shoulder to his nails. It’s probably bad. Someone’s going to be mad at him for it. It’s going to be expensive to fix; it’s always expensive to fix.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit; Sidestep is safe and what's a few more items on his tab, really?

“What happened?”

Ricardo jerks his head up, somehow surprised to hear the voice even though Chen's the reason he’s in the ambulance, not the arm which he didn’t even have time to tell anyone about. Not that Chen is actually hurt; just the armor. But it was damaged enough that he can’t get out of it in the field, so they’re going back to base like this.

Sidestep’s the one who was bleeding, but he never lets anyone look at his injuries. Ricardo should have dragged him to an ambulance, not—

Chen’s face darkens, and Ricardo realizes his mind is starting to drift again. “Sorry,” he says with a quick grin. “Lot on my mind. What did you say?”

“What happened?” Chen grumbled. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Nothing,” Ricardo says. “Maybe I overcharged the circuits a little.” He shrugs.

“During the fight? What did you do?”

“The hole you blew was enough to expose the wiring. I got him from behind. Sidestep distracted him.”

“And then ran off?” Chen grumbles.

Ricardo sighs. “Come on, Wei. He got himself hurt to take that monster out, so don’t even start.”

“Then why is he not in this ambulance?”

“You know why.”

“Because Sidestep doesn’t like hospitals. Because Sidestep won’t tell anyone his name, or show his face even in private. Because Sidestep could be anyone, and you shouldn’t trust him so much.”

Ricardo sees Sidestep’s slightly parted lips in his mind. Wouldn't he recognize that, if they brushed past each other on the street? He'd like to argue so, that he knows those lips and that jaw line so well that he'd recognize them anywhere.

“What?” Chen says. Gruff. Displeased. “You do know his name?”

“No comment.”

Chen’s eyes narrow. “He showed you his face, too?”

“I trust him, Chen,” he says, putting on the Marshal voice, even though he doesn’t know how effective it is right now. “You don’t have to, but at least trust me. I’m not an idiot. I’m not about to give out any classified information, but Sidestep’s one of the good ones. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

Chen stares back for a second and then sighs. “If you say so,” he says, leans his head back and glares at the ceiling instead.

Ricardo goes back to staring at his arm. After a while he pulls out his phone. Starts to write a message to the contact which is right now labeled ‘Stephanie’—Sidestep has made him change the name every month or so.

The last received message stares back from the screen.

S: asshole

He smiles; starts typing:

O: how’s the leg?

O: if it hurts maybe let me try kiss it better? ;)

S: ha ha i need stitches you dumbass

O: if you let me know which hospital you’re at i can hold your hand while they do it

O: i’ll even let you cry on my shoulder

S: you’d be the one crying and you know it

S: you’re soft

This isn’t that bad. Not a big deal. He kissed Sidestep, but it doesn't have to change anything. Just adrenaline and relief and a stupid impulse.

He bites his lip, sucks in a breath and—

O: i can think of ways you could change that ;;;)

Ricardo grins at the phone when Sidestep doesn’t reply. Score one for him.

Sidestep doesn’t give a shit that Ricardo has enough power running down his spine to blackout a small city or kill a man with a touch, doesn’t give a shit that he’s the Marshal, that he’s famous, and if not rich at least doesn’t lack for money. His phone buzzes in his hands.

S: still not convinced you think at all

Ricardo laughs out loud, and ignores Chen’s huff from the bed. He resists the impulse to touch his lips.

This is nice.

---

This is a disaster.

You drag yourself up the last steps to your apartment, almost collapse onto the door. Manage to get your keys out.

Unlock the door. Get in. Lock it up.

Drop the bag—deal with the suit later; bleeding now. Dizzy; lost too much blood.

Fucking traffic—the bus ride shouldn’t have been that long. Should have stolen a car. Did you bleed all over the bus? Your pants are wet, but at least they’re black.

Just get in the bathroom. The phone is buzzing; fucking Charge—he kissed you—why did you let him do that? Are you absolutely insane? Just let it buzz; don't think about it. First aid kit; bathtub. Painkillers, the strong ones, and anesthetics, but the pants need to go first, and shit. You didn't take the suit off.

Fucking hell. You have to twist and turn and when you’re finally out of it the bleeding has started again and what even did that—a piece of a window?

It’s going to scar.

Never mind. Anesthetic. Sterile compress. Apply pressure. Okay, better. Just dizzy now. Not so much pain—great; time for the stitching part.

It’s a mess.

Your hands are shaking. You feel cold. Bathing with an open wound is stupid, but you can keep the injury up out of it? Yeah. You turn the shower on, let the water run around the bottom of the bathtub—it turns pink; almost pretty.

This is going to feel like shit for awhile.

Can’t fall asleep—very bad when you’re in this shape, and alone.

You reach for your phone and of course Charge has replied. Of course it’s a dirty comment. Of course.

A disaster.

Don’t smile; this is bad. Charge shouldn’t ever have been allowed to see your mouth, not to mention kiss it. You shouldn’t shouldn’t have gotten this close; he shouldn't even have your number. Why can’t you stop smiling?

This is a disaster.

You write a stupid reply, ignoring the innuendo.

Smile wider. Touch your lips. Maybe it’s the painkillers, maybe it's the blood, but it feels like they’re burning. You can still feel The Marshal’s hand at the back of your neck; around your waist.

Fuck, you almost got crushed and bled out and all you can think about is the feeling of his lips against yours. An absolute disaster.

#tagging anyone back stresses me out but i would love to see anything from anyone who feels like sharing <3 #fhr #my fallen hero stuff #fallen hero

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catastrofriend · 4 years ago

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WIP Wednesday (for once)

Was tagged by @starrypawz and @impossible-rat-babies I think I just checked I promise I also no memory

Will tag uhhhh @kittlesandbugs @antigonick @forestcreatures no obligation though <3

(Also please note that I wrote this at like 2am after I went to bed at 9pm and woke up three hours later body being Done with sleep I did Not check it at all)

-------

You find him outside, staring wide-eyed into the distance, fingers digging into the porch railing, make a mental note to check later he didn't get any splinters from it. He doesn't notice you. That's okay. The soft patter of rain on the roof, on the dirt, grounds you, gives you an anchor.

You close the distance in a few quiet steps, make sure you're in his sight before reaching out. It might be an unnecessary precaution but you're rather safe than sorry at this point. You cover one of his hands with your own, wrap around his wrist, lift gently. He gives way immediately, you take his hand and he gives you all the rest of him, too. You stumble a little under the sudden weight as he leans into you but you catch him around the ribs, use the railing to keep your balance, you let him.

"Hey there," the words are smothered against his shoulder but you think he knows anyway as you feel him shift against you. His nose presses against your ear. That's how you first catch his breathing. Tiny gasps, barely scraping the surface. Barely there at all. You pull your head back to look at him and you barely catch the tiny pin pricks of his irises before he pulls you back, hands finally off the railing and nails digging into your skin instead. Terrified that you might slip away.

"Ricardo," you try again. Never lifting your hand off him, you let it roam. Up, to his face, cup his cheek, press your thumb flat down so he registers it. Let it move to the nape of his neck, the back of his skull. Keep him close.

You keep still for the longest time. Let him find his way back to you, to now. He's been so patient with you, you owe him this.

When he starts crying, you know he's close. You tighten your embrace, one hand disappearing in his hair and let him sob. You give him the time to feel it all, no judgements or obligations. No sympathy either, at least not that you show, but that's more because you fear it will make him clamp down again.

#fhr #fallen hero: rebirth #ortega #sidestep #ricardo ortega #oc: leigh bennett #pix writes #fanfic

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marshalortegamoved · 3 years ago

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wip whenever.

tagged by @sidestepping my beloved, thank you! and tagging you right back as always, mwah <3

tossing a tag to... @impossible-rat-babies @queerbrujas @wayhavn @ejunkiet @kittlesandbugs @evilbunnyking @amlovelies as well as anyone else who wants to!

I simply don’t have the brain for anything better than absolutely stupid scenarios and even stupider dialogue, and I barely have the brain to put that together lately, so. have more of that. pre-heartbreak, of course, and Ricardo this time.

“You should let me drive,” she huffs, but she climbs on anyway, brackets her thighs on your hips, damn, and—... pulls out a gun. Twists the dial on it up and nods, clinical, ready, you rev the bike. She sets her hand on the back, pointedly away from the open—really, begging—territory of your waist. Too bad for that.

You give her a smile anyway, spying her from the corner of your eye. Might as well be polite. Maybe more than polite. If she reacts to the winning white of your grin, you don’t see it in the tense, full shoulders or the impassive black of her mask.

“‘Fraid not,” you purr, kicking out the brake, “no one else drives the bike. Can’t handle her like I can.”

“I’ll just steal your keys,” and you can’t help but laugh, even better.

“Any reason to see me again, huh Sidestep?”

“Any reason to make your life more difficult.”

“Not going to hold on?”

“Don’t need to.”

“Might be a bumpy ride.”

You can almost feel the glare underneath that buggy, bright turquoise, and when you check over your shoulder again—another rev—she’s dead still and deadpan and closer than before, close enough to feel warm muscle through your suit, and pressing a hard fist to the vulnerable spot of your kidney. “Well. Don’t get me excited, Ricardo.”

That gets you. Ri-car-do. The syllables slide sweet on her low, mean voice, right against the oncoming threat of that lower, meaner punch, a rush skipping up your skin— let’s go, let’s see, let’s push, and really, what’s a man to do but—(and you do remember the idiot boost that took off in a stolen car with a hostage or two, of course)—twist farther around to see who flinches first.

“We’re on a first name basis now?”

She stills, sets her fist back, scoffs.

“We need to go.”

“Does that mean I get a name?”

“Fucking go.”

You’ll save it for later, not when you’re wide open, the white lightning bolt decorating your spine a handsome target if you piss her off enough to follow through on a threat for once.

#mywips #oc: november #don't look at this actually. or me.#for the record. I KNOW THEY'RE GOOD AT THEIR JOB. I KNOW.#the intricate rituals of threatening your weird first crush / new hero partner ? / 'we aren't putting labels on it' 'THERE IS NO WE.'#fhr

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sachas · 3 years ago

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BASEMENT, PALE HORSE STUDIOS / THE SEVENTH OF APRIL / @kyungxsoon

[ 31.03.2021. ]

KYUNG-SOON: I’ve got information on Hippodrome operations. Let me know if you want to discuss further. I’m willing to join the cause.

[ 07.04.2021. ]

💀: PALE HORSE STUDIOS. 23:00. BASEMENT LEVEL. ENTER THROUGH THE BACK.

One text is sent, another follows — this is how the world is run, life-changing decisions made in less than one hundred and forty characters. When May hands down the command, all his manifestations for more blackmail pay off. For Sacha Tarasov the age old adage is true: love what you do, and you’ll never work a day in your life. When Kyung-soon answers Death’s call, Sacha doesn’t hide from the humour of the offer, almost giddy at the surprise revelation. Didn’t she just get promoted? Didn’t she fight off the ( ever unfortunately ) late Ricardo Perez in violent spectacle, all to defend the Femenias family? Sacha can’t help but wonder what’s changed, curiosity calling to him; it’s the little details like motivations that humanize a victim. Though in their brief time together, she’d never talked ill of her more illicit employer, not in so many words, but they suppose she’ll be more willing to come out of the shell once Sacha cracks it wide open with a knife.

Lying in wait for the newest little lamb to wander in, Sacha has their plan. He and Vincent act as a team, but aim to isolate the two rats of Famine, make them worry who the other person is, make them sweat as they suffer in their silence. Kyung-soon is at least calculated in her offer, well-acquainted with risk — it’s just her luck that Death has the better hand to play. A storage room in the depths of the Studio with a dozen old screens finds new purpose as Uriel gives Sacha the reins in this task, each screen glowing pale green with Death’s skull on display. He wears his standard issue mask, anonymity key, wanting identity to remain concealed until he feels satisfied enough in his approach to step out from the shadows. When jaw snaps close, when Death’s grasp tightens, maybe then Sacha will have the perverse pleasure of watching the colour drain from her face as she recognizes him.

Dim light of the screens illuminates table and chairs, eerily inviting as Kyung-soon enters through heavy, already open doors, the path from outside to the lower levels of Pale Horse Media clear enough to anyone with common fucking sense. “Sit,” they command in their natural thick accent, close enough to their father’s voice that they nearly reel in the comparison. Outside the room, two Angels of Death shut and lock doors tight, the sound echoing through the still room — there will be no leaving early, no attempts to flee. “You’ve decided to repent,” they start, choosing words carefully, echoing Uriel’s chosen language, “and you’ve made a compelling offer.” Hands rest atop table, calm and collected. “Now you have Death’s attention. So, go ahead. Tell me about operations at the Hippodrome.”

#ks #thread.#4.7.2021.#hmmm i realize sacha is wearing a mask but russian accent = rpatz with a beard gifs #i dont make the rules #this is long u don't have to match if u dont wanna

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immabethehero · 4 years ago

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Schneeplestein Apparently Has a Heart

The good doctor’s birthday is here and of course I wrote a story! Just warning, this story is quite dark. Read the trigger warnings below.

TW: Suicide attempt by gunshot (not seen, just implied), suicidal thoughts and words, extreme distress, minor violence, blood mentioned.

For the short amount of time that Jackieboy Man and Marvin the Magnificent have lived with Dr. Henrik Nicholas von Schneeplestein, MD, PhD, MVP, FFS, they have learned a few important lessons, or rules:

NEVER, under any circumstances, touch the top left cupboard on the outside of the kitchen opening. That’s where Schneep’s coffee supply is, and if you touch it, even ONCE, Schneep will be out for your blood.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you mention Schneep’s wife, Lisette Schneeplestein. Apparently, the French brunette whom Schneep has been married to for the past 7 years has fucked off (Schneep’s words) back to France with her tennis instructor, Rick, short for Ricardo (Italian, apparently) and taken their two daughters with her. (Schneep has cleaned out Lisette and the girls’ rooms, and all the belongings they have left behind, in their efforts to leave so quickly, are packed away in storage containers in the garage. Schneep has yet to mail them to Lisette’s new address.)

DO NOT wake Schneep earlier than 10 AM in the morning if it’s his one day off. Despite having an early bird’s job, Schneep is not a morning person. Another reason why Schneep is dependent on coffee.

UNLESS it is an emergency, no one but Schneep is allowed in his office. As there are so many things to keep track of, and so many papers that could easily be misplaced, it is best not to touch, or even go inside the office, lest you want to throw the doctor off his game or have the doctor throw you off a cliff.

Despite these four unspoken yet very specific rules, Marvin and Jackie have learned one more this past month: despite the doctor’s arrogant, haughty, snappy, disgusting, even FERAL demeanour, he truly is a good person.

It just took a new ego to show them that.

March 30th, 2017. Schneep’s mail has been unceremoniously thrown onto the dining room table. Schneep’s hands, long and graceful, slide through the envelopes and fliers, organizing them into piles, from taxes and business inquiries to subscriptions and sales.

Jackie lazily eats his cereal, watching Schneep sort through the mail like a madman. Geez, just how popular is this guy?! It’s almost as wild as Jack’s mail. At least there’s more interesting stuff for Jack... drawings, letters of encouragement and thanks, even the rare crocheted or sculpted gift.

Schneep freezes when he comes across a particular letter, one with a cutesy pin cupcake logo. His eyes grow solemn as he picks it up and shakily opens it. Jackie cocks his head.

“Something wrong, doctor?” he asks lightly.

Schneep looks up. “Hm? Oh!” He sighs. “It’s from a baking class Sophia and I used to take together. Lisette had insisted I learn how to cook as well, so it wouldn’t always be her making the meals, and she figured it would be good bonding for me and Sophia. Soph loved those classes. We’d learn all sorts of fascinating recipes and bring the results home. They were fun, and very sweet.”

Jackie nods seriously. He knows he should leave it there, but something’s confusing him. “It’s been quite a few months since you stopped going. Why are they sending you stuff now?”

Schneep unfolds the letter. As he reads it, his eyes widen and a smile begins curling at his lips.

Somehow, that only makes more questions. “What…?”

“It’s not the company themself, it’s Chase! He was a friend from the classes! I haven’t spoken to him in forever! He’s such a lovely person, it’d be nice to see him again!” Schneep grabs his phone and hastily types in the number at the bottom of the letter. He squeals and runs off, like a teenager who just got a text from their crush.

The letter lies on the table, open for all to read. Jackie knows better than to pry into other people’s lives, but this letter is wide open, and it’s not like Schneep needs to know, so the superhero leans over and reads.

Hey Henrik,

This is probably weird to get, but I lost your phone number and I don’t know what your address is, so I asked the dudes at the baking class if I could send a letter to you via their services.

It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I thought I’d better check in and see how you’re doing, see how bachelor life is treating you. Stacy and the kids miss seeing you as well. I wanna talk to you again.

My cell is #1273-545-8903.

Hope to see you soon!

Chase Brody

Chase Brody. That sounds like an American to Jackie’s ears. He does seem like a good person, if Schneep’s reaction wasn’t enough. He must have been a friend for Schneep when the doctor went through his divorce.

The name itself sounds familiar, like a local celebrity or something. Jackie makes a mental note to look it up later. He leans back and finishes his cereal just as Schneep comes back, holding his phone out. Marvin finally emerges, his green hair resembling a rat’s nest, and no mask. Jackie takes pride in the fact that Marvin now feels comfortable enough to show his face in front of Schneep and Jackie.

“Well, change of plans, I won’t be able to come home in time for dinner with you guys,” Schneep announces. Jackie nods.

“Wait what? Why?” Marvin slurs, slumping down at the dining room table.

“I’m going to see Chase after my shift today. We agreed to meet in the park,” Schneep explains curtly, and leaves.

“Did I miss something?” Marvin asks, turning to Jackie. Jackie nods down to the letter. Marvin leans over to read, only for the letter to be snatched up by the doctor.

“Who said you could go through my stuff?!” Schneep snapped. He stormed off, letter clutched firmly in his hand. Marvin sneers at Jackie, who only shrugs and winks. The magician rolls his eyes, but he understands. A shrug and a wink means I’ll tell you later.

Schneep throws on his brown coat and grabs his bag. “Have a nice day, boys. If I don’t see you later tonight, sweet dreams and I’ll see you in the morning.” He flies out, coat flapping behind him.

“He’s gotta show me how he rocks an overcoat so well. I’m jealous of the way he holds himself. So professional,” Marvin remarks. He quickly turns to Jackie. “Spill the tea.”

“Schneep’s meeting an old friend from a baking class he used to take with his daughter,” Jackie says. “His name is Chase Brody. The name sounds so familiar to me, and I don’t know why.”

“Look it up on your phone,” Marvin suggests. Jackie does just that.

Immediately, Wikipedia comes to the egos’ rescue. Chase Brody, (born April 11th, 1988) is an American-Irish Youtuber who is best known for his Youtube channel, Bro Average. As of February 2017, his channel has over 20 million views and over 10 million subscribers.

“Oh yeah, the trickshot vlogger!” Jackie says. “I like watching his stuff, he’s a funny dude.”

Marvin nods. “He must have kids as well. He wouldn’t be taking classes if he didn’t.”

Jackie scrolls down to Personal Life. “‘Chase is married to Stacy Matthews, and they have three children as of 2017, two biological twins, and one recently adopted daughter.’” The selfie provided shows a man with fair skin and bright blue eyes standing next to a red-headed lady doing a duckface.

“Hm. Sounds like he’s living the good life,” Marvin says. “A well-paid job, a nice family, a happy life.”

Boy, is he wrong.

At 5 PM exactly, Schneep sits at the bench by the great oak tree, waiting for Chase. He wraps his blue and navy scarf tighter around his neck as a cool breeze whisks by. Despite what the weather people promised, Athlone is nowhere near warm, despite it being spring. He examines the park-goers who walk by, picking up on every accident that could occur.

Parents swinging their child up and down: a broken arm, arms could pull out of their sockets, or the child could fall on their head and get a concussion. Or worse, permanent brain injuries.

Kids climbing trees: Another chance to fall and hit their tiny heads and sustain brain damage, if not that, broken limbs and splinters.

Teenagers skateboarding: more broken bones and limbs, but at least SOME are smart enough to put pads and helmets on. Others have no chance of recovering fully from brain damage or concussions should they fall on their heads-

“Henrik!” Henrik snaps to life and looks around. A man wearing a puffy black jacket, torn jeans and a snapback with a pink skull on it runs over to him. Schneep stands up.

“Chase Brody! Wie geht es dir mein freund?” Schneep cries out in delight, holding his arms out. Chase happily throws himself into them.

“I’m doing as well as I can, at least. It’s so good to see your face,” Chase sighs. He nuzzles Henrik’s hair, taking in the sanitizer and mint smell he’s gotten used to. “I’ve missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Schneep says. “Come, sit down next to me! Tell me how things have been. How are Stacy and your kids? Has Chloe adjusted to the new timezone yet?” Chloe is Chase’s recently adopted daughter from China. Schneep’s last visit with the Brody’s involved meeting her.

Chase’s smile fades and he sits down next to Schneep. “Um…”

Schneep’s stomach sinks. “That’s never good. What happened? Who died?!”

“Calm down, Henrik!” Chase exclaims. “No one died! Everyone’s fine. Chloe’s adjusted quite nicely.”

“Then why do you look so sad?!” Schneep cries.

Chase fidgets with his jacket zipper, mumbling incomprehensibly. Henrik leans closer. “Didn’t catch that.”

“StacyandIaregettingadivorce,” Chase whispers. Schneep’s stomach flips and sinks.

“What?”

“Stacy and I are getting divorced,” Chase repeats, louder now. “She said she still loves me, but not quite in a… romantic way, I guess. She wants us to just be friends.”

“Well, at least she still wants to be on friendly terms, I guess!” Schneep says. “Still, I can’t believe it… you two were such a sweet couple… so in love…”

“There’s another reason why she wants a divorce,” Chase admits. Schneep’s eyes turn wide as saucers.

“She’s seeing someone. An old friend from high school. I’ve seen her texts,” Chase says. He scrunches up the end of his shirt, nose wrinkling. Schneep hears him sniff.

“I don’t know how long it’s gone on… and I know she didn’t mean to… but still…” Chase finally looks up, eyes tearing. “How could she do that? I would have been okay with it! Maybe. I don’t know!” Chase buries his face in his hands.

Schneep pats Chase’s shoulder gently. He can’t believe Stacy cheated! She and Chase were such a romantic couple! They seemed so happy! Why would Stacy throw that all away for some whore? “What a bitch…”

Chase suddenly whacks Schneep’s hand off, eyes fierce. “Don’t call her that! It’s not like that! At least she still wants me in her life! She’s not like Lisette!” An awkward silence fills the air.

Chase gasps. “Henrik, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Oh!” Schneep cries. “It’s fine! It’s no big deal!” Yeah, that was a low blow, but he would rather Chase doesn’t end up like him: cranky, alienating, friendless, alone. He needs a friend more than ever.

“No it’s not, I just sunk really low! You must be furious-”

“I’m not, I promise!” He’s not, surprisingly. Is this growth?! What the fuck?!

“I need to control myself better. I’m a grownup, for fuck’s sake, I should know better…” Chase moans, burrowing his head in his hands again.

“Chase!” Schneep exclaims. “You mustn’t beat yourself up like that! You’re one of my very best friends, which isn’t saying much because I don’t have any, but still! You have to be one of the nicest people I know! You’re anything but a dick!”

“I feel like you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Chase mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not, I swear !” Schneep says.

“I’m sorry, Henrik, I really am,” Chase says.

“I forgive you,” Schneep says, and means it. “I’m serious.”

“I should go,” Chase decides, standing. Schneep gets up as well.

“What? No! I’m not mad!” he protests.

“It’s my turn to pick the kids up,” Chase snaps. “I’ll see you around, Henrik. Sorry I can’t stay long.” He briskly runs off.

Schneeplestein yells and kicks the bench. “FUCK! FUCK! AAAHHH!!!”

Other park visitors turn in confusion, watching the strange man kick the bench and scream.

Schneep freezes when he notices everyone staring at him. He storms back to his car, slams the door shut and continues his screaming.

Once Schneep has finished “releasing his anger” (Jackie’s words, not his) he “reflects on the situation” (also Jackie’s words). What could he do to make Chase feel better?

He stays in the car for an hour, letting the world pass by as he thinks. By the time the sun has set, he has an idea.

Jackie and Marvin glare at each other from across the hall. Sirius the cat has hidden, choosing not to get involved. The little pegs in the cribbage board are neck-in-neck, both pegs exactly 4 steps away from the end hole. The egos stare at their cards.

“Four,” Jackie announces, putting the card down.

“Fourteen,” Marvin says.

The door flies open and Schneep rushes in, hair windswept and out of breath. “Where’s Jack?!” he demands.

“Out in his universe,” Jackie responds. “Fifteen for two!” He puts down an ace.

“Sixteen for two!” Marvin slams the ace down, looking triumphant. Jackie flips him off.

“When will he visit?!” Schneep questions.

“When he wishes,” Jackie responds. “Twenty-five!”

“How can I contact him?!”

“Why are you so interested?!” Marvin asks. “Thirty-one, bitch!” He flips Jackie off.

“I have a request for him!” Schneep responds curtly.

“What kind?” Jackie asks.

“It’s for a friend,” Schneep brushes him off, heading to his lab.

“Chase Brody?” Marvin guesses. Jackie kicks him.

Schneep turns around. “What did you say?”

Marvin gulps. “You left your letter on the table for me to read. I was fast enough to catch the gist before you snatched it up. So how is Chase Brody?”

Schneep growls softly and walks back to the table. Marvin sits up with his head held high, bracing himself for the punishment. No matter what Schneep does, slugging, kicking, ruining his hair, the magician can take it. He’s been through worse.

To Marvin and Jackie’s surprise, Schneep pulls up a chair and sits down. The doctor takes a deep breath. “Chase Brody is divorcing his wife. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Jackie and Marvin nod in understanding. “That’s sad to hear,” Jackie remarks, solemnly.

“But how’s talking to Jack going to help?” Marvin queries.

“I want him to make a video for Chase,” Schneep says. “If this so-called community exists, I want to see them show their love for Chase! It’s the least he deserves!”

Marvin and Jackie catch each other’s gaze. Schneep glares at Jackie expectantly.

“Well? You’ve lived with Jack the longest. How do you contact him?!” Schneep demands.

“I have his number in case of emergencies, but I’ve never had a reason to call him! I don’t even know if he’s available,” Jackie explains.

“He has to be. What else does a man who plays video games for a living do?!” Schneep snaps, incredulous. “It’s not like he has to be places or anything!” He looms over Jackie, a desperate, pleading look in his eyes. Jackie nearly topples out of his chair.

“I guess I could give it a shot,” the superhero mumbles.

Schneep squeals in delight and wraps his arms tightly around Jackie in what Jackie assumes to be a hug. The superhero pats the doctor’s arms, taken aback by his strength.

After a few sickeningly sweet seconds, Marvin pipes up, “Uh, doc? I think Jackie needs to be able to breathe in order to call Jack.”

Sheepishly, Schneeplestein lets Jackie go. The superhero gulps in big gasps of air, before grabbing his phone and dialing Jack’s number.

A day later, Jack McLoughlin sits at the egos’ dining room table, chomping away on mashed potatoes and a juicy steak.

“My goodness, you never told me what a good chef you were, Schneep!” he sighs in ecstasy.

Schneep bows his head, face glowing red. Jackie raises an eyebrow. Schneep almost NEVER blushes when given a compliment. It’s strange to see the doctor act so shy and humble around someone, especially Jack. It feels like only yesterday Schneep was bombarding Jack with questions about where he came from and how the alternate universe worked. Since that day, Jack has quickly risen to become one of Schneep’s favourite people on the planet. Not that Jackie is jealous or anything…

“Just a little recipe I learned for my wife…” Schneep mutters, playing with the end of his lab coat. Across the table, Marvin snickers lightly, watching the doctor fumble for words. Finally, some entertainment!

“So, what was the call for?” Jack asks. “Just wanted to say hi?” His expression darkens. “Is it Anti? What did he do?!”

“It’s not Anti. We haven’t heard from him for a while!” Jackie says. Jack sighs in relief.

“I mean, I know I made that video for PAX and all but I just wanted to make sure,” Jack says.

“You made an Anti video for PAX?!” Marvin cries. “Why?”

“Because the fans would enjoy it! Also because I was running out of ideas for what to do for an opening,” Jack admits. “It just seemed like the right amount of fun and originality without being too over the top!”

“When is Anti not over the top?” Jackie scoffs. That earns a laugh from the others.

“Actually, it’s Schneep who has a question for you,” Marvin says.

Jack turns to Schneeplestein. Schneep’s smile disappears. He looks around the table, watching everyone’s gaze. He grins nervously at Jack.

“Could I ask you in private? This stuff… it is… personal.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” Jack says, standing up. Schneep follows after him.

In the upstairs hallway, Schneep spills everything. He explains who Chase is, what’s going on in his life, and how he believes making Chase an ego could help his situation.

“Make another ego? Oh god, I’m having enough trouble managing you all right now,” Jack admits.

“All you have to do is make one video. The fans can do the rest,” Schneep presses.

“How?”

“By showing their love for Chase! He’s a funny and sweet guy! Your fans would love him!”

“How will the community’s love help a man struggling with a divorce?” Jack questions.

“Their love will lift his spirits and he will feel more confident and happy! You said you noticed a difference in us after the community made content of us! If that is really true, then I want to see them show their love for Chase. It’s the least he deserves!”

Jack is silent, contemplating the pros and cons. Finally, he sighs and says, “Can you show me what he usually does?”

Schneep types something into his phone. He logs onto Youtube and types a channel name into the search bar. Bro Average.

“Bro Average? Is that a parody of Dude Perfect?” Jack asks, chuckling.

“Well, it’s because there’s only one person performing every stunt, and because it’s less... professional than the other channel,” Schneep explains. “For example-”

The video shows Chase at a park, holding a Nerf gun and wearing a goofy grin. “Sup, guys! I’m Chase, and welcome to Bro Average!” He shoots a nerf dart off-screen, only for it to crash into something, invoking a cat screech. Chase pretends to be startled.

It flashes forward to Chase in a tree. “This one’s called, ‘Multitasking’!” He hangs off a branch while trying to knock over six cups stacked up on each other with darts. Jack can’t stop snickering at Chase’s antics, as he wobbles and threatens to lose his balance. Chase yelps and squeals, and a few times, swearing can be heard, though it’s censored by loud beeps. Finally, Chase hits his target, just as the branch snaps. Chase whoops with glee as he crashes onto the ground, the branch smacking into his head. His cameraman runs over to him, worried, but Chase is rolling on the ground in laughter as tears run down his face.

“He is not nearly as good as the professionals, but his humour and authenticness bring in the fans,” Schneep says, smiling.

“He sounds like a blast!” Jack takes the phone and begins to skim through Chase’s videos. “I bet I could make something work! I’ll borrow an office space, bring a couple friends and film a few shots! Can’t be that hard!”

“So you will do it?!” Schneep cries.

“Absolutely! Give me a couple days and it will be ready!”

Schneep cheers and engulfs Jack in a bear hug. Jack laughs and pats his friend’s back. It’s nice to see the doctor open up at last to his new roommates and creator, and so quickly, as well. Jack decides Schneep can be rewarded for his good nature by granting his wish and helping out a new friend.

A few weeks pass. Schneeplestein schedules more visits with Chase. The two fathers laugh and chat, learning more about each other and discussing whatever they please without the worry of kids hearing. Schneep feels his spirits lift whenever he sees Chase’s snapback and hears his cheerful voice.

In the night, a familiar sensation returns to the egos’ dreams. Sounds of a Nerf gun, kids laughing and on the rare occasion, a man crying fills the egos’ heads as they sleep. Schneep feels his heart break when he hears Chase’s cries. He hopes this video will help Chase. It has to.

April 11th, 2017. The egos are gathered around the dining room table, Jack’s Youtube account open on his laptop.

Jack idly sits at the centre, waiting for Schneep to arrive with Chase. Marvin and Jackie play another round of cribbage, and this time Jackie seems to be way ahead on the board, much to the magician’s dismay.

“I’m going to be skunked! I hate this game so fucking much!” Marvin gripes, as he receives two points for his math efforts.

Jackie snickers as he counts his cards. “This takes both luck and skill. You’re a fast learner, Marv. I’m sure you’ll pull through soon.”

“Not soon enough,” grumbles Marvin as Jackie moves his peg 16 points.

The door opens and Schneep walks in with Chase Brody right behind him. Compared to the laughing man with the warm aura in Google Images, this Chase looks cold and kind of grumpy.

“Chase, this is Jack McLoughlin, our ‘creator’ and a wonderful man,” Schneep introduces. Jack awkwardly holds his hand out for a shake. Even though he’s seen versions of himself several times this past year, it’s still rather unnerving to be given death stares by himself but with yellow hair, snapback and a fair share of freckles.

“Jack, this is Chase Brody, your newest ego and the face of Bro Average!” Schneep continues. Chase raises an eyebrow.

“Ego? Like alter ego?” Chase turns to the others, and realizes that they share the same hair and face. “Oh... my... dog. Am I a fictional character?! Is this a character intervention with the narrator?! Whatever happened, I promise, I didn’t do it! Sally encouraged me to eat the worm!” Chase kneels before Jack, cowering and whimpering.

Jack chuckles nervously. “Relax, Chase! Technically, you are a fictional character-” Chase shrieks in alarm.

“But only in another universe. You’re very much a real person in this one,” Schneep concludes, helping Chase up by the arm. Chase shakes the doctor off and Schneep tries his best to hide his hurt.

“To put it simply, some of the videos on my channel don’t exist in this universe. This is because they’re about you… egos,” Jack recites. “You’re the most recent ego, however, your video and beginnings are a bit different because I already had some course material to go off of.”

Jack clicks play on the video. Chase sits down and gasps as Jack-as-Chase flies around the office, performing trickshots and screaming like a toddler who drank too much apple juice. Is… is this him?! The accuracy! Holy shit! They even got his bloopers right! Creepy!!! Is he being stalked?!

Schneep watches from afar, fidgeting with his lab coat. Chase hasn’t moved once since the video started. He doesn’t look angry… but at the same time, he doesn’t seem to be enjoying his Power Hour. Truth be told, it’s not like the Doctor particularly likes his Power Hour either. Jack didn’t have to go and mention his cheating wife… or the fact that Peter did die at one point… Nonetheless, Chase is just sitting there, with wide eyes.

Jack, on the other hand, is already regretting what he did. Perhaps he emphasized too much on the “Not-As-Professional-Or-Successful” part. Maybe he made Chase too goofy or not as three-dimensional as he could have. The Youtuber catches a glimpse of the screen. Oh no. It’s the part with-

“Stacy, please, I know, I’m trying to get all the shots, look, just please don’t take the kids!” Jack-as-Chase pleads. Schneep and Jack-in-the-flesh turn white as a ghost. Chase frowns.

“This one’s called, ‘I’m Staying At My Sister’s This Weekend’!” Jack-as-Chase announces. It flashes back to him on the phone. “Well, I don’t care what your sister says! Just please! At least let me see them on the weekend still!”

Jack scratched his neck nervously and teethed on his knuckles, face beet red. Chase looks horrified. Schneep looks just as worried. Marvin and Jackie awkwardly stand up to leave.

Chase pauses the video just as Jack-as-Chase sobs. He takes a deep breath and turns to face his “creator”. “So… are you the reason my wife and I are getting a divorce?”

Jack gapes, taken aback by Chase’s accusation. He doesn’t want to throw Schneep under the bus, but at the same time, Chase wasn’t exactly “created” like the others-

“Not exactly!” Schneep interferes. “It… it was my idea. I thought if I got Jack to make a tribute video in honour of you, it would help you!”

“Help me?!” Chase laughs, a harsh and cold sound compared to his whoops and chuckles in his videos. “How?! By running my wife’s name through the dirt?!” Jack flinches.

“Fair enough,” Schneep says with a groan. “I should have been more specific when I said divorce and kids.”

“You told-?!”

“I thought if you knew you had a big name on your side you’d feel better! It was supposed to be a little treat!” Schneep counters.

“Oh, what am I, a little pity party to you?” Chase snaps. “My divorce was private information, Schneep. Why else did you think I wanted to talk to you alone?! Now the whole world knows and Stacy’s going to be treated horribly because of you shits-”

“Not the whole world!” Schneep exclaims. “Just… all… of Jack’s world.”

“Shut up,” Chase hisses. “I don’t care that there’s more than one universe. So be it. What I care about is the fact that you betrayed my trust and now people are going to treat Stacy like she was a freaking bitch. This may come as a surprise to both you and Jack, but not all women are cheating whores like Lisette, asshole!”

SMACK. Chase cries out. The egos and Jack huddle together. Schneep’s breathing slows as he registers the sting in his hand and Chase rubbing his red cheek.

Schneep takes a deep breath, and in chilling, low, icy words, he snarls, “Don’t ever say her name again.”

Chase recovers from the slap and storms over to the door. “Whatever. You know what?! Stay away from me and whatever’s left of my family. I don’t care if I’m a part of your ‘creator’s’ story or whatever, I JUST WANT YOU OUT OF MY LIFE.” Chase grabs his coat and slams the door shut with a loud BANG. Schneep remains at the dining room, breathing unsteadily, vision somewhat blurry.

“Doctor? Are you alright?” Jackie whispers, reaching a hand out.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Schneep runs upstairs to his room and slams the door. Muffled sobs soon echo down the hallway.

Jack’s heart breaks in two. He really thought this video was a good idea. Somehow, all it brought was pain. He sighs defeatedly and slumps down at the table. Marvin closes the laptop.

“Shit… that was awful…”

“And it was supposed to be Chase’s birthday present!” Jack moans. “Ahhhhh, I feel like an asshole… I shouldn’t have been so mean…”

“It’s not your fault…” Jackie soothes. “You made an assumption and played it with satire. Schneep shares some of the blame as well. He should have kept that part quiet.”

“And I should have kept that out of the video…” Jack sighs. “Now Chase feels even worse about the divorce and he wants nothing to do with us…”

Jackie and Marvin sit down beside Jack and rub his back. Jack sighs again and rests his head on the table.

Upstairs, Schneep screams into his pillow, tears finally flowing. He hates himself and Chase and everything that’s happened. That’s what he gets for helping a friend. Ungrateful bastard-

No. Schneep should have known better! That was private information, he had no right poking his nose in and telling everyone. Well, it was just one person, but still! Now Chase never wants to speak to him again and he’s lost the only friend he’s had in a while and everything sucks and he just wants to curl up and die. Schneep pulls his hair and screams again. He can’t sleep, but at the same time, he can’t do anything else. So he remains in bed, crying and thinking. Eventually, long into the night, he falls asleep, cheeks wet and eyes sore.

Schneep wakes up feeling like absolute shit. His cheeks are somewhat sticky and damp. He must have been crying in his sleep. His stomach feels awful. But it’s a work day, so he gets out of bed.

Schneep stumbles into his ensuite bathroom and splashes cold water on his face. He shudders when he sees his reflection. Grey skin, messy hair, red eyes. He doesn’t smell so good either. Sighing sadly, Schneep throws off his clothes and turns on the shower faucet.

When he hops out of the shower, he puts on his scrubs and grabs his spare labcoat. He trudges downstairs, where Marvin is waiting with fluffy chocolate-chip pancakes on the table.

“Morning, doc,” Marvin greets cheerfully. His smile fades when he sees Schneep’s ashen face. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Schneep replies hoarsely.

“I made you some coffee,” Marvin continues. “I know you like it.”

Schneep grunts softly and pours himself a large cup. As he drinks he heads to the hook of keys by the front door, only to find-

“Where are my keys?” Schneep asks, staring at the space where his car keys used to hang.

“I saw Sirius knock them off earlier,” Marvin replies, flipping through the nearest magazine. “I tried to catch her, but she’s so fast.”

“Where is she right now?” Schneep inquires, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Beats me. I can’t control her,” Marvin says calmly.

Schneep growls and pounds on the table. Marvin jumps slightly, but quickly recovers and goes back to his reading.

“This isn’t funny, Marvin. I need to get to work!” Schneep snaps. “I’m already falling behind schedule.”

Marvin snorts, looking up from the magazine. “You think you’re fit to go to work? Your face is bright pink, you’ve got large shadows under your eyes and I heard you crying for who knows how many hours last night.”

“I have allergies! They were just acting up!” Schneep snaps.

“Oh, really? Allergies? That’s rich coming from the man who claims to have ‘the strongest immune system in the world’!” Marvin scoffs.

“Even the strongest immune systems have off days, okay?!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense! Henrik, are you even hearing yourself?!”

Schneep fights back more tears. “Marvin, please, tell me where the keys are! I can’t be late for work!”

“And you won’t be! I called the hospital and asked them to give you a day off!” Marvin says.

Schneep almost drops his mug. “You… you did what?!”

“I told them it was a family emergency,” Marvin admits. “And that we didn’t know how long it would be. They understood, told me to tell you to take as many days off as you need.”

“Which is none,” Schneep scowls. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

“Henrik, you said you didn’t want Chase to go through his divorce alone and friendless, like you. You’re going through a tough time right now. The last thing you need is to be alone.”

Schneep gapes at the magician, tears threatening to fall. Marvin stares back, heart thumping loudly. He prays he didn’t say the wrong thing. He hopes this works.

Maybe it’s because he didn't get enough sleep, or maybe it’s because he’s never had anyone be so concerned for his well-being that they screwed up his schedule, but Henrik finally lets his anguish go, and collapses, bawling like a little baby. Marvin gets down from his seat and wraps his arms around the doctor, soothing him and singing softly.

Jackie finally emerges from the bathroom, and joins the cuddle pile in the kitchen. As Henrik finally slumps completely into Marvin’s arms, he and the superhero high-five and move the sleeping doctor into the living room for a day of Netflix and cuddles.

Five days pass. Henrik sits at his desk, tapping his pen. In front of him is the start of a letter, with only the words “Dear Chase,” written on it. He needs to apologize to Chase, but just doing it by text seems insensitive. So written letter it is! Now… where to start…

Dear Chase,

I’m sorry. What I did was wrong and there’s no way to excuse my behaviour. I really believed I was doing the right thing by telling Jack, but I should have known better than to air dirty laundry.

The doctor shakes his head and crumples up the page. He can do better than that. Now to start over-

His phone begins playing the familiar sound of a monitor beeping. He really needs to change his ringtone. It’s too painful to hear after all the dead patients that came with it.

Henrik freezes when he notices the name. Chase. Why is he calling? Heart thumping and hands shaking, Henrik picks up the phone.

“Hello? Chase?”

“H-hi, d-doc…” Chase answers in a raspy whisper. The sound of sniffling is not lost on Henrik.

“Chase? Are you okay?”

“Not really…” Another sniffle. “But I will be… soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I said… It was wrong of me to bring up your own divorce… I-I shouldn’t have been so harsh…”

“No, Chase, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have brought up your divorce in the first place! I thought I was doing good by telling Jack, but he clearly misinterpreted it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it…”

“It’s alright… you were just trying to make me feel bet-better… I just overreacted… I overreact to eve-everything… I’m such a bay-baby.” Chase sounds like he’s holding back tears.

“No you’re not. You had every right to be mad… I’m sorry for slapping you. How’s your cheek?”

Schneep hears Chase chuckle softly. “It’s fine… It doesn’t hurt as much as other injuries…” The laugh turns into a sob.

“Other injuries?! What do you mean?!” Henrik demands. “Chase, you’re worrying me!”

“I’m sorry… I can’t seem to do anything right… All I do is upset people…” Chase is outright crying now.

“Chase, please tell me where you are,” Henrik pleads, getting up. “I need to make sure you’re okay!”

“No… I don’t think you’ll want to see this…” Chase mumbles. He takes a deep but shuddery breath. “I have to go. Goodbye, Henrik.”

“Chase?! CHASE?!” Henrik screams. The phone line goes dead. Henrik yelps and quickly rushes into his contacts. He finds Stacy’s name and calls her.

She answers on the first ring. “Henrik? It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Where is Chase right now?”

“What?”

“Where is he living?”

“What’s going on? What did he say to you? Is he okay?”

“Call 999. I don’t believe so.”

Henrik hangs up and dashes out of his office, up the stairs and to the front door, where he grabs his keys and coat. Marvin and Jackie sit at the kitchen island, both on their phones.

“Henrik? What’s going on?”

“I have to go to the hospital. I’ll be back,” Henrik answers curtly. He throws on his coat and leaves.

Henrik runs into the hospital and quickly signs himself in. A nurse comes by and squeaks in surprise when she sees him.

“Dr. Schneeplestein? What are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

“Time is broken, Cass,” Dr. Schneeplestein replies. He dashes off to the emergency room. Cass quickens her pace, trying her best to catch up to him.

“Have there been any emergencies yet?” Schneep demands.

“I think an ambulance is arriving soon-” Cass begins.

“Who’s the patient?” Schneep asks.

“A man attempted suicide-” Cass starts.

“I’ll treat him,” Schneep announces.

The doors open and medics rush in, driving a man on a gurney. Schneep pales when he sees red. The good doctor swallows his fear and tears. Now is not the time to be a baby. He’s not called the good doctor for nothing. Time to save Chase’s life.

Hours later, five nurses come in to find Dr. Schneeplestein exhaustedly sobbing against the wall, shoulders convulsing as he cries into his hands. On the gurney lies a man with yellow hair poking out of a large bandage wrapped around his head. The monitor beeps rhythmically, and the man’s chest rises and falls slowly. So why is the doctor crying?

Three nurses wheel Chase out while the other two bend down next to Schneep. One nurse, Kate, tentatively places a hand on his shoulder. He jumps in shock.

“Schneeplestein? Are you alright?” Kate asks.

Schneep smiles shakily. “He’ll live…” He shivers and whimpers. “Oh god… so much could have happened… So much could have gone wrong… I thought I lost him a few times...” the doctor breaks off with another sob.

“Why don’t you head home? Today is your day off,” Kate suggests.

“In a little while… I need to speak to the patient first…” Schneep replies in a raspy voice. Kate nods. She and the other nurse, Matt, help the doctor up. His legs wobble and almost give out. Schneep takes a deep breath and slowly makes his way out of the operating room and into his office.

An hour later, Henrik reappears, wearing his comfy labcoat and drinking some tea, a rarity considering how much the doctor prefers coffee. But he needs to relax, and so Matt whipped up a nice cup of tea.

Henrik pulls up a chair and sets his cup down. He looks down at the sleeping man, face as white as the bandage wrapped around his head. Chase has never looked more fragile and vulnerable. His cheeks are sunken and there are large bags under his eyes.

Henrik rubs his face. Truthfully, he’s just as tired. He looks up at the clock. 1:11 am. God, he was in the operating room for quite a while. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be as stressed as he was today. He leans back and closes his eyes. Maybe he can get a quick nap before-

“Dr. Schneeplestein?” He opens his eyes and looks up. His stomach flips when he notices a woman with red hair that falls in waves down her shoulders. Her soft brown eyes are full of compassion and worry. Stacy Brody. Or Stacy Matthews, to be more precise.

“Stacy…” Henrik mumbles. “What… I mean, I’m sorry. I understand this must be a lot for you.”

“I can’t believe it… I mean, I knew about his depression, I just didn’t think it would get this bad,” Stacy says, voice soft and sad.

Henrik nods. “Yes. One can’t help but wonder what the breaking point was.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Stacy whispers hoarsely, staring down at her ex-husband’s skinny frame. “I did cheat on him. I told him I wanted a divorce after he found out… I wonder what would have happened if I told him straight up about Delilah… I wonder how he would have reacted…”

Henrik is speechless. He can’t really say it isn’t her fault, but at the same time, it wasn’t as if she could straight up tell him. There really was no way of telling how he would have reacted. Henrik groans and rubs his eyes again. He can’t think straight.

His mind flickers back to the video, and his stomach sinks. Did that video… influence his decision? Should he tell her about it? Would she be mad? He takes a deep breath.

“I mentioned your divorce to another friend,” he finally says. “Said friend made a video that I think mocked Chase more than flattered him. I thought it would help… but it didn’t. Only made him even more upset.”

“A video? Was this the video that ‘Jack’ made?” Stacy asks. Henrik opens his eyes, horrified. How long has she known?! Oh god, she must despise him! Henrik whirls around to face her, face riddled with guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d take it in that direction- It was a shitty idea, I was so invasive and it was absolutely despicable of me and-”

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay! It was an honest mistake!” Stacy responds calmly. “Chase told me about it. He felt awful and he was so pissed with you guys. I will admit I was a bit peeved at first, but Chase said he yelled at you and broke off his friendship with you, so I figured it was punishment enough.”

“He also brought up my wife,” Henrik says. “So I punched him.”

Stacy nods. “Ah, that’s where the bruise came from.”

Henrik cringes. Damn, did he actually hit Chase that hard? He really is a dick. He sighs and stands up. “You are more than welcome to punch me. I deserve it. I never should have brought up the divorce. It was hateful of me, really.”

Stacy shakes her head. “Oh no, I couldn’t! You saved Chase from the brink of death. It’d be so insensitive of me!”

“I insist.” Henrik holds his head up. Stacy reluctantly stands up, and raises an open palm.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks.

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” Henrik says.

Stacy takes a deep breath… and punches him. Henrik falls back into the chair from the force. Stacy cringes.

“You… have a very strong punch,” Henrik remarks, holding his throbbing cheek. He holds a finger up when he sees her mouth move. “Don’t apologize. You were right to do so.”

“I took karate as a kid,” Stacy boasts. “I won a black belt at age five.”

“Good for you! To be honest, it wasn’t nearly as hard as my wife’s,” Henrik admits.

“Well, at least I got my ‘revenge’- wait, what?!” Stacy does a double take. “Lisette used to punch you?!”

“She only did it once,” Henrik quickly adds. “After I called her a whore.”

“Oh. That explains a lot,” Stacy deadpans.

“I deserved that as well,” Henrik says. “I just wish she hadn’t moved so far away… I wonder how the girls are doing...”

“Have your children contacted you?” Stacy lightly presses.

“I’ve tried to contact them,” Henrik says. “I don’t think Lisette lets them write or call me.”

“Then Lisette really is an ass,” Stacy explodes. “What if they do want to talk to you? She can’t hide them from you just because she doesn’t like you.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop her. I keep my phone nearby in case Sophia calls when her mother isn’t around.” Henrik pats his pocket. “Or maybe Rick will let her. He’s quite nice and he’s good with kids, which is why I was quite surprised when he turned out to be-”

“A homewrecker?” Stacy suggests. Henrik glares at her, scandalized, but she can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, snickering.

“I was gonna say an ass, but that’s better,” he says. Stacy bursts out laughing, but it quickly fades when she notices Chase. She clears her throat.

“I’m going to take the kids away for a while,” she reveals. “At least until he’s emotionally stable to look after the kids.”

“You know Chase would never let his depression get in the way of being a good father,” Henrik protests.

“I know. I just feel he needs a break from it all,” Stacy says. “Mostly family life, me and Delilah in particular. Maybe she and I could go to my cottage in Scotland. We can stay there until he feels ready to share custody once more. He can’t be alone, though. We know what will happen if he does. He can’t go back home either. We still need to wash out the blood and dispose of any guns he might have. Of course I mean the real guns, but he might not want his Nerf toys either. He needs to be with someone , and that can’t be me. I just don’t know anyone he could stay with who lives in Athlone. We only just moved here.”

Henrik lights up. Holy shit. It’s like destiny! This is the perfect opportunity! “He can move in with us. He’s already an ego. He’d love it there. Sure it’s a bit chaotic, but I think he’d love it!”

Stacy raises an eyebrow. “What sort of chaotic?” she questions.

“The local superhero likes to crash there, we have a magician who INSISTS on using us for test subjects for his latest tricks, and me, the ‘feral doctor’,” Henrik lists off. “Come to think of it, I’m actually the voice of reason.”

Stacy tries her best to hide a shudder. “I feel a little worried about his safety. And no offense, but it’s a bit concerning that you’re the voice of reason in that house.”

Henrik scoffs in mock insult and shoves her gently. “Oh screw you! To be honest, Jackie is actually the smart one. I’m the one who pays the taxes and keeps a roof over their head. They’re the ones who overstayed their visit.”

Stacy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She looks more relaxed than when she walked in. She stands up.

“I think it’s time I left. Good luck, Chase. I wish you all the best with your recovery.” Stacy leans over and gently kisses Chase’s cheek before turning to Henrik and holding her hand out. Henrik returns it and gives it a small squeeze, only to be pulled in for a hug. He gasps in surprise.

“Thank you Henrik,” she whispers. Henrik nods and returns the hug, holding her tightly until she signals to let go. Stacy picks up her bag and leaves.

Henrik sits back down and takes out his cellphone to call the egos. Jackie picks up after the first ring.

“Henrik? Are you okay?”

“I want you to clean the house and make some hot chocolate. We’ve got a new roommate coming to stay with us!” Henrik announces.

“Is it Chase? Is that who we’re taking in?” Jackie asks.

“Yes. I want everything to be perfect, so go! Get cleaning!” the doctor commands.

“Need us to pick you up?” Marvin suggests.

“I can drive just fine! See you soon!” Henrik hangs up just as Chase begins to stir. The doctor watches him apprehensively. He hasn’t seen Chase since the argument. How will he react?

Chase groggily opens his eyes. He can see a bright light shining down on him and closes his eyes. “Where… where am I?”

He slowly attempts to sit up. A soft pair of hands gently help him sit up and rub his back.

Chase blinks, trying to clear his vision. The blurry blue shape slowly comes into view… Henrik! The good doctor sits beside him with an anxious expression on his face.

Chase wracks his memory to try to remember what had happened. He can feel a heavy fabric wrapped around his head. He lifts a hand to better investigate… oh.

Henrik’s heart breaks when he sees Chase drop his hand, expression forlorn. Here we go, he thinks.

“Chase?” Chase looks up. “Before you say anything, know that you have every right to be mad at me and Jack. What we did was despicable and absolutely awful. You don’t have to forgive us, and I completely understand if you never do. But you can’t be alone right now. You’re going through a really tough time, and the last thing you need to be is alone. I don’t know if you’ll accept it, but we have an extra room at home that would be a perfect spot for you to stay while you recover. I know you might not want to talk to me, but Jackie and Marvin are living with me, and they will ensure your time there will be as comfortable as possible. It’s fine if you don’t want to go, but just know that we will always be there when you need a place to stay.”

Chase is silent, simply gazing at Henrik with unshed tears. Finally, he throws his arms around Henrik’s neck. Henrik startles, but returns the hug.

“Is that a yes?” Henrik mumbles. Chase nods. Henrik sighs in relief and squeezes Chase tighter. Now all he has to do is hope Jackie and Marvin have the house ready by the time he returns.

Henrik parks the car in the driveway and turns to Chase. The vlogger fidgets with his t-shirt. Henrik puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Just warning you now, while Jackie and Marvin have good hearts and intentions, they can be little shits and there’s a good chance the house will still be a mess when we get back in. Good luck.”

Chase whimpers in fear. Henrik nods solemnly. “My thoughts exactly.”

The fathers unload the car and walk up to the front steps. Henrik takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“FIFTEEN FUCKING POINTS! I WIN AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER!” Jackie screeches. Marvin roars in anger and tosses a pillow at Jackie, who backhands it. The pillow soars across the house and slams into Henrik, who grunts in alarm and falls backward. Chase shrieks in alarm, gaping at his fallen friend.

Marvin and Jackie turn around, bright blue eyes glaring into Chase. Marvin’s eye twitches sporadically and Jackie smiles like a madman. Chase nervously waves. Marvin clears his throat and forces a sleep-deprived smile.

“Howdy, Chase!”

#attempted suicide tw #suicidal ideation tw #blood mention tw #extreme distress tw #apparently i can write #jacksepticeye #dr. schneeplestein #chase brody #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #writersofjack #writers of jack

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gvngsigns · 5 years ago

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ricardo usually doesn’t pick up when an unknown number calls him, they don’t deserve his time ─ they would be in his contact list if they were important. though he decides to pick up anyway, isn’t really busy so it’s an excuse to give a seemingly unimportant person a portion of his valuable attention. he’s glad he picked up, not because he’s excited to hear rose (when the fuck did they get back together?), but his little cousin needed his help. of course it was that girl that got him in trouble. he’s never been fond of her, never been fond of any relationship dante or his sisters for that matter got into because they were nothing more than a distraction. nothing but trouble. yet with rose it was even worse because she’s caused quite a few problems, even pushed dante so far that he ratted his own family out. and now she’s the reason he got fucking arrested when that never happened whilst his cousin was under his wing. “don’t say anything to the cops. i’m already on my way, where are you?” he almost sounds robotic, his only focus to get dante out as quickly as possible because he wasn’t sure how soon his cousin would break ─ he has quite a few weak spots. anything he said could be used to destroy their empire. ricardo wasted no time getting into his car and speeding to the hospital. he immediately notices rose waiting outside, coming to a halt right in front of her and silently waiting for her to get in. “i thought you’d take better care of him.” he reproaches, isn’t sure why he uses those exact words ─ to get under her skin? to make her feel guilty? to scare her away so dante could fully focus on his job within the business? perhaps a mixture of all those reasons. / @architcct

#architcct #* ♡ ─── 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐨. » interactions.#* ♡ ─── 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. » i knew you were trouble.#sjhjdf he HATES her <3 #with a passion <3

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enchantedtherose · 4 years ago

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Soy Luna 1x75

it’s been a whole month since I’ve watched an episode omg. I don’t usually stream shows that have already ended so it’s hard to motivate myself to watch it all (even though I binged the first 40 episodes in two weeks idk what that was about lol) but just let me try to finish this season before the end of summer just bare with me

Matteo pushing her hair back was so awkward lol

Is he finally gonna tell her that the song he wrote was for her

No it’s a new one

Mariano you didn’t try talking to Tamara about anything don’t even start

All of this was just because he’s bitter over the breakup ???

Delfi deserves better friends

I’m jealous at how hard Ambar can roll her r’s. I’m Puerto Rican I can’t do that

Listen i like Nico and Jim but this has gotten so toxic lmao they really need to have a real conversation about their feelings before getting together again

Okay cool they’re waiting I knew I could trust Nico

Nevermind guess they’re not getting back together 😳

Can Tamara just talk to them so that they know she doesn’t hate them

Not Matteo grabbing her hand right in front of Simon

The way all three of them have dated Ricardo

Seriously when is Sharon gonna get an office or something this is like the fifth time Ambar has walked in on them

Don’t let Yam break up with Ramiro please

It’s definitely his fault and I don’t blame her but I’m still sad :(((

Yes Delfi stand up for yourself

So is Nina really going to reveal that she’s Felicity or is she gonna chicken out again

Let me guess sound check is during the competition

Wow what a surprise

It took Amanda five years to get those gloves off and it’s funny because I know that wasn’t scripted lmao

Cato needs to get his roots touched up

How do rats play into Sharon’s tragic backstory

Delfi and Pedro about to become the only happy canon relationship on this show good for them

Now the question is will Gaston feel relieved or betrayed if he finds out Felicity is Nina

I didn’t realize the open was already happening

Stop showing sad and jealous Simon my heart hurts

Literally how can you expect me to ship Lutteo when Simon is still in love with her 😭

Amanda is Sol

“Son un clásico en el open” literally everyone is the same people perform every time lmao

People are throwing illegal fireworks outside my house be quiet i wanna hear this song

DELFI AND PEDRO HOLDING HANDS

*drum roll*

And she’s in her wig

Good for her though for being able to perform so confidently

YES NINA

WHY DID IT END THERE

#taina is watching soy luna #1x75

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thestorychannel · 4 years ago

Photo

March 12, 2013, Tuesday.

It was just another sunny summer day, my friends and I went to class, mounted on our bikes, Always we cut a path along the forest trail.

That day, we were anxious to get to school, because it was our first day in high school, and like any good teenager, we created high expectations regarding this phase of our lives, but we knew that anything that gave wrong could mark us over the next three years ending our social life at school.

To be honest, I didn't care for that, however, my friend Ricardo decided it was going to be popular, and ended up taking us for this teenage movie cliché, and as a good friend that I am. I decided to try to be less weird than normal, but apparently fate didn't want that for us, and to report the succession of bizarre things that happened, I decided to write a diary.

So, continuing. We were twenty minutes from school. The Emília Silva High School, name of a remarkable personality of our small town, which died there about ten years ago.

We were following Highway 27, with a slope almost infinite, a place with virtually no sign of people, it took hours to pass a car over there.

Although it was still around from seven in the morning, the sun was already killing, but the wind that swinging the trees helped to improve the feeling of warmth, Ricardo, Carmem and I were going up the slope, and at the we reach half of it, we get off the bikes and follow dragging them, to the top, and just ahead, almost hidden in the through the bush, there was a small dirt path that cut through the woods, an excellent shortcut to get to school.

I remember that with his tongue out Ricardo said:

– Oh, Lucas, slow down ... I'm dead.

We followed the path we used as a shortcut, there were several leaves scattered on the floor. However that day, something strange caught our attention, a macabre scene that left Carmen paralyzed ahead.

When I saw her there, I asked:

– What happened, Carm ...?

Before finishing the question, I came across the reason for the reaction of Carmen. Before our eyes were several dead birds, spread over several meters. We were amazed by the scene, Carmen questioned:

– What happened here, who could do a barbarity of these, my God?

Nobody had answers for that, I wondered. – "he would be some bizarre natural phenomenon, or some hunter without scruples could have done that?” – After some time there, we followed the path among the dead birds, during the Ricardo started to theorize, he said:

– This may have been done by some predator, or even the power lines may have affected the navigation of birds ...

I thoughtfully interrupted him:

– I don't think so, no predator would do that, and I also think that is no possible what the power line to have affected them, the high towers tension are too far away for that, I believe it has been caused by a hunter.

Carmem bent down and picked up one of the birds, and watched him attentively, and said:

– No, he wasn't a hunter either, look, there's no injury in these animals.

I was thoughtful, and it soon came to my mind that this could be some disease, then I scolded:

– Throw it away, we don't know what caused their death, it may have been some kind of illness ...

At the same moment Carmen released the bird, and tried to clean the hands. We continued on our way, Ricardo and Carmem continued to theorize about what happened, I remember that they even considered a species alien invasion, something related to a program conspiracy that the two attended.

After fifteen minutes of walking, we arrived at our new school. And soon I recognized several students from the old school, many fraternized as if they had not seen each other for years, and soon the groups started to form, athletes to one side, hipsters, patricinhas, nerds and geeks to another. Sincerely, I felt like a real teenage movie cliché.

I looked at my friends, and I could see their excitement, nor did it look like they had seen the scene of the dead birds minutes before. Ricardo soon started chattering:

– Staff! I think we should come up with everything, good impression, do you see those guys over there?

Ricardo pointed to a group of boys who wore uniforms of the college football team, I soon realized that Erick, son of Mayor, he was there with his class, and as soon as Ricardo pointed towards them, Erick recognized us.

– Holy crap! – I said.

– What's it? – Ricardo questioned.

I started to walk away slowly and commented:

– That's Erick and his gang, let's get out of here!

Days before, while we were making a horror movie recording unintentionally, of course, an accident happened, a purse full of fake blood fell off the bridge we were on, and soiled Erick and their gang that passed down there at the time of accident, since then we've been chased.

We drifted away, however, Erick had already noticed, and said:

– Oh guys! Look, those nerds who got us dirty in that day ... come on let's get them!

We're screwed, I thought, so the day was supposed to be a day normal school, became a chase, and suddenly everyone were watching us, but not because we’re rocking, and yes because we are being hunted.

We left our bikes on the ground and ran out towards where we had come from, and with every step we took Erick and the gang they seemed to be closer. We were almost back on the dirt path When Carmen saw an old hut, with the door open, hut the one who had a reputation for being haunted, and said:

– Let's go over there!

We then decided to go there. As we entered the forest, Erick was almost reaching us, so I did something, I remembered that had a slingshot in my bag, so quickly I caught it. I saw a stone ahead, without thinking too much, I caught the stone, then aimed towards them, when I shot, hit the leg of Erick, who fell off balance and fell. It only made them angrier with us, but at least it time to distance ourselves.

Upon arriving at the haunted hut, we look back and don't we saw more of the bullies, it looked like we had made it. We sat on the stairs, Carmen looked into the hut, which had been abandoned for years, and a strange wind cold leaves through the door, even chills us. However, our calm was short-lived, we began to hear the screams from Erick and his gang, who said:

– Let's get you, you nerds, show up!

We knew that if we stayed there, we would be beaten, so Carmen and Ricardo entered the hut:

– What are you going to do? – I asked.

– What you think? – Said Carmen. – Let's hide.

I was reluctant:

– But what about the ghost stories?

– I'm more concerned with the living now ..., shall we?

Realizing that the bullies were coming, I went in with them in the hut, as we passed through the door, a chill took over of us, the place was completely abandoned, full of webs spiders, rats and dust, Ricardo leaned against the door slowly. And we were hiding behind it for minutes, while listening the screams of Erick and his gang outside. They said:

– Let's get you guys no use hiding!

To make matters worse, one of Erick's friends stopped in front of the door, and he reached out to open it, but Erick questioned:

– What are you going to do?

– I'll look for them here. – Answered your friend.

Erick shook his head, and said:

– Don't waste your time, those cowards wouldn't have the courage to hide there, let's look for them later, let's go!

They then left, and we remain hidden by everal minutes, until we think it's safe.

– Can we leave now? – Asked Carmen.

I took the phone out of my pocket to see the time, however,

it was unloaded.

– Damn it. – I said.

– What it was? – Carmen asked.

– My cell phone discharged ..., but I think the time has passed

enough.

So, we decided to get out of there. We stood up and stood at the in front of the door for a minute, listening but not listening nothing from outside, except the wind and birdsong.

I opened the door slowly, but when we realized, something strange had happened.

#books #fantasy

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sky-scribbles · 5 years ago

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In which my Sidestep flails in confusion over Feelings, and the Rat-King is better than any of us. nb!Sidestep x m!Ortega, ~2000 words, soft and dumb. Retribution spoilers.

‘I was just wondering,’ Herald says. He’s fiddling with his shirt, awkwardness turning his mind fuzzy around the edges. ‘I mean, I know you and Ortega are dating, but –’

‘Wait. We’re what?’

Herald stares, and you stare back at him. Can’t he learn to shield his thoughts, even for a second? His baffled amusement is screaming out at you, and you would prefer that he didn’t do anything embarrassing, like smile. Or laugh.

‘Dating?’ he says at last. ‘I sort of assumed you were. He… cares a lot about you.’

Maybe he does. Not that you know why Ortega wastes his time doing something so stupid. And, yeah, sure, you can tell why someone would think you’re dating. You weren’t sleepwalking when you wandered down the promenade at his side, let him pull you into his arms and kiss you beside the water. Or when you let him buy you coffee afterwards, and then again the next week, and then the week after that. Or when you spent most of your visits to the Rangers in his office.

It’s just the implications of it that’s startling.

You grab your discarded hoodie, because if you don’t have something to do with your hands you might end up flailing them. ‘So, uh… you’d call it dating? What I’ve been doing with Ortega?’

Herald’s urge to smile wins out at last. ‘I mean, going places together doesn’t have to be a dating thing. But it can be.’

Shit, you need a coffee. Fast.

How the hell did you miss this? How did you not realise that you’d crossed a line into being official? Into dating? Kissing him is one thing, but dating has rules and codes. Things you’ve never quite understood but which seem to be very important to people who actually understand how romance works.

(Maybe your obliviousness shouldn’t be a surprise. Most of your experience with romance comes from reading Shakespeare, and those relationships tend to have significantly more stabbing than the real world. Or more conveniently identical twins.)

Hiding your face is an attractive concept right now, so you tug your hoodie over your head. ‘I just never thought about it that way. It’s hard to tell when these… definitions… start applying.’

Herald is now waging a furious war on his temptation to laugh. ‘Maybe you should talk to him?’

‘Definitely not. I wouldn’t even begin to know how.’

Then again, you don’t know how to date someone, either. Which you are apparently doing.

And after everything you’ve done to Ortega, everything you’re yet to do… shouldn’t you at least try to get this one thing right, while it lasts? Do some research, figure things out?

You shove your hands into your pockets, scowling at the ground. Research. Right. Into dating. That’s just bound to go smoothly.

Your first research opportunity comes three days later. Except it’s not really yours, because you’re in your puppet, a drink in your hand and Dr Mortum at your side. She’s pretending to complain about you dragging her away from her work, but for once she’s sitting back with a smile, her lab coat discarded. No tension in her shoulders, no distracted glances towards the workbenches. The sight makes contentment settle over your chest, as if a cat’s curling up to sleep there.

‘Complain all you like,’ you say, ‘but you need the break. It’s not good for you to stay here all the time. Disconnected from everything.’ You’re parroting Ortega, but it’s what Adam would tell her.

‘I recognise the voice of experience there, mon ami. Neither of us are…’ She hesitates, running a finger along the side of her glass. ‘Adept at emerging into the world.’

‘You got me there.’ Your own body’s response would have been a frown, an averted gaze, but you give a rueful little smile instead. Being Adam is a careful, if comfortable act: lines to rehearse, mannerisms to remember. 'Being around people is... so much effort. The rest of the world talks and chatters and goes on dates, and I could do that, but it’s exhausting. Finding the right people. Not driving them away. You know what I mean?’

‘Intimately. Though – really, you find it so hard to find people? If you took a seat in Joes for a few hours, and sat there looking appropriately tall and handsome…’

You snort into your glass. ‘Why tall, specifically? Are you suggesting there’s a height restriction on dating?’

You’re only half-joking. Dating is weird, you don’t know the rules, and if there is a height restriction then your real body most certainly fails it.

‘Relationships are not a theme park ride, mon ami.’

‘They’ve got just as many ups and downs.’

You remember belatedly that Adam does not mutter like this, but Dr Mortum only smiles at you. ‘You have some turbulent experiences in your past?’

You take a slow sip from your glass. Perhaps the gesture will hide Adam’s face, make sure the doctor won’t see any of your feelings, Wren’s feelings, displayed there. Won’t see any memories of Ortega’s arms pulling you from the wreckage and his lips closing around yours. His voice screaming after you as you crash through the window.

‘Something like that,’ you say, and Adam’s voice is not meant to shake like this.

Dr Mortum looks at you for a moment, her gaze even. And then she does something you did not expect: she reaches across the couch and lays a hand on your arm. Just below your shoulder. Gentle. Steadying.

‘Neither of our greatest skills are with people. And yet, here we are. Sharing a drink.’ The smallest of squeezes before she lets go. ‘I am hardly one to talk, but… I think half the difficulty is in the overthinking. Perhaps you’re not quite so bad at this as you think, mon ami.’

She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Adam might not be so bad, but Wren is.

You’re grateful, all the same.

‘What about you? What do you think?’

There’s a pause before you get a response: a brush against your mind that’s eager enough to make you smile. ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ… :{D…???

‘Yes, him.’ You give the Rat-King’s canister a pat. ‘And I know you’ve only seen him when he was fighting me, so I guess he didn’t make the best impression. But he’s a lot nicer when he’s not being punched.’

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ… you… <3?

You bite your lip. Trust the Rat-King to get right to the heart of the matter. ‘Maybe I do. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. I just know I feel a lot.’

But not enough to stop you from putting him in hospital. People who date do not do this. People do not do this.

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ… :{D… <3????

‘I want to believe that he does.’ There’s a lump in your throat, so you tuck the canister into the crook of your arm. Wrap the Rat-King’s simple, uncomplicated affection around your thoughts. ‘But there’s no happy ending here. I’m not…’

You bite back the sentence, because you’re not sure the Rat-King will understand the significance of you not being human. In their minds, the only difference between you and other people is that you can talk to them. You’re more real than the rest of the world.

The thought makes you hug them tighter, because it doesn’t work like that, but oh god, how you wish it did.

‘Herald thinks I should talk to Ortega. Is that what real people do? Talk to the person they’re sporadically kissing and just… ask about how their relationship should go? There’s no universe where I don’t screw up that conversation. He’s going to think I’m an idiot.’

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ … (ง'̀-'́)ง!!!

The laugh that breaks from you is startled, and genuine. ‘I’m sure that’s not gonna be necessary, but... thanks for the support.’

You tug them even closer, cradling the little minds against your chest. Deep breaths. Remember what Herald said about Ortega caring. Remember what Mortum said about you overthinking. It’s just a conversation. It’ll be awkward and terrifying, but that goes for most conversations you have.

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ … <3 <3 <3 …

A smile tugs at your lips. When it comes from the Rat-King, you can be sure it’s true.

The Farm always considered you a good investigator. Unmatched at combing minds, gathering information, acting only once you’d put the pieces together. It’s why you were dangerous in their hands. It’s why you’re even more dangerous now, as Myriad. It’s why you feel like an utter mess knocking on the door to Ortega’s office. Being so woefully under-prepared is nauseating.

You really need a coffee.

He calls you in, and here’s another thing you weren’t prepared for: the way he smiles when he sees you. Your gut’s reaction doesn’t help, either.

‘Hey, Wren-bird.’ He’s grinning, and it’s so easy for him, isn’t it? Crack a smile, drop the old nickname as if seven years never happened, try to make you stop frowning. And it works. Every time, it works.

‘Hey.’ You try not to mumble. ‘Got a moment?’

‘For you? Hours of them.’

You roll your eyes and hop up onto his desk, trying to ignore the yawning mess of nostalgia in your stomach. You spent hours perched on his desk like this when you were Sidestep. You think you were sitting here when you told him your name.

Pushing those thoughts to the side, you look him in the face. ‘Are we dating?’

Here’s something you never expected to see: Ricardo Ortega, speechless. But it’s what you’re seeing, and you’d better make the most of it. ‘Because… I don’t know, Herald said we were, and I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yeah, I can see how we might be. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I wouldn’t know how to date someone even if I was trying to. I mean, apparently I ended up dating you without meaning to, so... if I do try to date you, I’ll probably somehow manage to end up not doing it, and –’

‘Wren.’

You stop, because your throat hurts. And apparently that’s all the opportunity Ortega needed to slip around the side of the desk, wrap a hand around your head, and kiss you. Softly, his lips curved into a smile against yours, and you want to roll your eyes again but they’re already slipping shut.

‘You can’t do this every time I start making things awkward,’ you tell him, as he draws back.

He nudges your forehead with his. ‘At least it stopped you panicking. Has it occurred to you that you might be overthinking this?’

‘Sure. I overthink everything. Including my overthinking.’

Another kiss, just barely brushing your lips. ‘You’re not supposed to do anything. If you don’t feel comfortable calling this dating, then we don’t call it that. If there are any… dating things you don’t want to do, we don’t do them. There’s no rulebook here. And if there was, I’m pretty sure you’d throw it out.’

You’re ready to protest, to tell him it can’t be that easy, but he speaks again before you can. ‘We’re going at your pace here, okay? The only thing you need to do is to not change a thing.’

One more kiss, to the top of your head this time, tender enough to make a drowsy, unfamiliar calm melt through your insides. It’s not safe, relaxing like this, but... you can give yourself a few moments. Because’s he’s definitely right about the rulebook. And because what you feel right now is something very like what you felt as you hugged the Rat-King: warm affection, without any complications. Simple.

This isn’t simple, and it never will be, not while you have amber brands on your skin and a suit of armour in your closet and a mess of secrets in your head. But you can pretend it’s simple. Just for a little while.

You always were a good actor.

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #chargestep #ricardo ortega #dr mortum #rat-king #herald #oc: wren serrano #is trying their best #otp: let myself be seen #sky's writing

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