#of Henry would have made the situation go from ‘oh god the horror’ to ‘don’t you dare say that about my brother

[malewifehenrycooldown]

it would be nice if actually NMH4 was smart and pulled a whole 'actually the real villain was inter-generational trauma all along!' and that it re-contextualised the overarching narrative of NMH to be about the about the Touchdown Family's struggle to end the toxic cycle of violence that their family has been stuck in.

[bansheeoftheforest]

Can we get some rambles about some Moreau's Revenge AU? Like more in deoth about how everyone reacts and feels? Maybe some Emma reaction? Jacob? The public? Does feral!Jekyll ever hurt anyone badly? Do he and Zosi play alot? Is Hyde still there, just trapped in the subconscious of Henry's mind? When he's back to himself, does he still maintain some of his feral behaviours? Does he slip into his feral state as a defense mechanism?

Ok i just gotta mention I love it when people come up with aus, thrust them onto me, and then tell me to come up with ideas/the canon for the aus, I'm not even sarcastic, I just love that everyone has collectively decided that I'm an au hoarder and therefore, I should have all the aus and I should also be the one making the content for them. I love my job and I love all my little kitties bringing me dead mice all the time <3

Also! I'm just going to ramble every single fact that my brain comes up with, and this is specifically going to be about the Feral!Branch of the au <3

Henry got kidnapped after walking home from a dinner with a few of his close friends. Moreau stalked him until Henry was alone, to which he knocked him out and dragged him off to his funky hideout.

It takes a whole month before people find Moreau's hideout. By that time Henry has already been severely beaten, his bones are broken and his body is bloody, yet that doesn't stop him from prowling his tiny cage. Much like an abused dog, he completely ignored his wounds or just made them worse by biting on them, or by trying to stand on his legs when the rescuers found him. Instead of cheering and being relieved, he snarled and growled and tried to swat at them with his claws.

The first four that got into the hideout were Brokenshire, the Commissioner, Jenkins, and Wipple. The four of them were already friends with Jekyll and they were the most worried. While the other police arrested Moreau, they took it upon themselves to find Henry.

They found Henry in a small labspace, laying on the floor while whimpering. The moment he saw them he became aggressive. The only indication that he really was not human anymore was his eyes, sharp teeth, claws, and pointier ears. Subtle changes that were enough to tell them that there was no awareness behind those large eyes.

The sound of pain and anger that Henry made when they had to muzzle him is a sound that will forever haunt every single police officer from that day forward. They had to cuff his arms and practically drag him to the police vehicle, despite the muzzle he managed to make his displeasure and pain quite clear.

They brought Henry to the Society immediately, and made sure that no one else saw him. They but a sheet over the cage they kept him in and told anyone who asked that it was a runaway monster that they were going to dump with the Lodgers. They made the Lodgers gather in the foyer before the revealed who actually was in the cage.

The Lodgers were, to say the least, shocked and horrified. Not only was Henry so badly beaten that he could barely stand by himself, but the way he snarled and swatted after them invoked such a... Uncanny feeling within them. It wasn't really until then they realized how serious all of this was, the whole situation with Moreau.

All Lodgers were absolutely disgusted with what Moreau had done to Henry, but Ito, Maijabi, Jasper (plus Rachel and Robert, of course) were the most affected. The police had to physically restrain them from rushing up to the cage because if Henry got close enough he would not hesitate to hurt them. Brokenshire and the Commissioner (God I swear to god I'm THIS close to oc-fying him oh my god) both have scratch marks from trying to get close and calm Jekyll.

The police helped the Lodgers move Henry to an empty lab room where he could be alone. They still kept him in a cage for quite a while, yet the moment that they had gotten him into the room, Robert completely burst out crying. He really could not believe that happened to his best friend, he is unsure if they even can save him, yet he swears to himself that he will make sure that Henry is safe. He was this close to decking an officer who, during a meeting that he attended at the police station with those present during the day of Henry's rescue, suggested that they put Henry in Bethlam.

Robert did not allow anyone to get into Henry's room, mostly for their own safety, and because he wanted to monitor Henry's recovery himself. No one really listened to that. Sometimes a Lodger (or a whole group) would sneak in just to have a look at him, or give him some treats or some kind of toy. Henry often found himself too exhausted and too wounded to try to chase them away, instead panting on the floor of his cage for most of the time while his visitors observed him with pure sorrow.

Ito, Maijabi, Jasper, and Rachel were the ones that visited Henry the most. Ito and Maijabi would often just sit a bit away from the cage and observe him for a bit, maybe try to talk to him, occasionally they would help steal food from the kitchen to give to Henry. Rachel and Jasper were put in charge of feeding him most of the time, and it was only when Rachel and Jasper threw in chicken in his cage that he let himself be distracted from them and stop snarling just so he could eat. All of them left with tears in their eyes most of the time.

All the Lodgers would be worried, all Lodgers would try to visit Henry, but out of them Ito and Maijabi had it worst. Maijabi felt like he was losing his son, Ito-- so often cold and honest-- had never cried so much in her life when seeing her mentor in such a state. They often comfort each other, and do their best to always be available to help Robert with whatever he needs.

Emma route: I imagine that Henry and Emma are already married at that point. She has been worried sick for Henry the entire time, the police stop by her and Henry's house immediately after dropping Henry off at the Society. She rushes to the Society and the Lodgers all seem so... Sad, horrified, she gets more and more scared and suddenly she sees Robert and Rachel and Jasper, all three looking pale and ill. She begs them to tell her where Henry is... Robert can't even get any words out of him. He simply shows her to the room where they are going to keep Henry and shows her Henry's cage. Poor man is still laying bloody on the floor, still in a muzzle, but he barely has any visible sclera from his dilated irises and his hair is wild. He lays like a beaten dog, he doesn't even react as Emma kneels on the floor outside his cage. Emma turns around and demands and explanation from Robert, Robert sits down on the floor next to her and quietly explains everything the police told him, what Moreau did to Henry. Robert hugs Emma as she just starts crying, but both leave quickly to not... Well, bother Henry, who grows impatient and starts rattling against the cage. Not only has she been incredibly scared and worried for her husband the entire month he was gone, now Henry seems so close and yet so far away and he doesn't even recognize her, he is beaten like a dog and thinks he is some sort of animal and it just... It all becomes so much for her. She leaves the Society and the Lodgers don't see her much after that, although she does come and visit almost every day (and whether or not people know that she does it, is an entirely different question) just to see her husband. Sometimes she will bring food (Henry always loved her cooking) or a toy for him, and she ends up being the first person that he actually allows to touch him voluntarily, despite Robert forcing himself on him so he can patch him up.

Jacob route: Jacob would find out because Abberline and or Brokenshire would tell him about the state they found Henry in. Jacob would probably hear the news that Moreau’s lab got busted and immediately make his way to the Scotland Yard and demand that the police tell him where Henry is. They would tell him as much as they are allowed to about the case, then tell him to go and talk to Robert Lanyon in the Society. Of course Jacob doesn’t do that, he just immediately breaks in and searches everywhere for Henry. Eventually Robert spots him parkouring over the rafters and chases him down until Jacob manages to find the room where they keep Henry. Jacob opens the door and immediately finds Henry tearing through an entire turkey leg, although he immediately abandons the food snarl and bark (or, well, the aggressive equivalent of a bark) at him and Robert, reaching his hand out of the cage in an attempt of tearing them to shreds. No recognition at all in his eyes, Jacob can only stare for a while. Henry looks the same yet so inhumane. Robert does his best to explain everything, Jacob can only watch in pure horror as he hears what became of his lover, seeing it right in front of him. He doesn’t even let Robert finish his sentence before he has already stormed out. He does not care what the police planned to do with Moreau, he goes straight to whatever cell they keep him in and murders him in cold blood. He doesn’t go back to the Society afterwards, no, he goes to the train hideout and hastily tells Evie and Green what happened to Henry, he spends the rest of the night drinking. Unlike the Lodgers and Emma, he stays away for quite a bit. He doesn’t return until a few days later when he has managed to pick himself up. He makes sure that the news and/or rumors of what happened to Henry dies down quicker than they can rise, sometimes he actually has the courage to visit him but only every few days. He gets to see first hand how Henry recovers-- physically, at least, and slowly and surely he starts warming up to having people near him. After only a few weeks, Henry allows Jacob to touch him. Something about him (and Emma in her route, of course) feels familiar, calm and protective. Henry puts his head in Jacob’s hand and Jacob quietly swears that he will always protect him, no matter how long this goes on for.

The public (even including the Lanyons and the Carews, and most parts of the Scotland yard) never get to know what actually happened to Henry, as the rescuers made a good job at making sure no news or rumors spread or that anyone saw Henry in the state he was in. As far as they are aware, Henry is currently in a coma, and slowly Robert feeds into the news, updating people around them about Henry’s condition. “He is stable”, he will say, “but I’m afraid it’s hard to know when he will wake up... If he ever will”. It’s safer to make it seem like he is unconscious rather than conscious because Robert knows that people (journalists, Lanyon Sr, Sir. Carew, etc) will demand to visit him. Once Henry is unferal, they let him decide when he wants the news of his “awakening” to be spread.

The worst Henry has hurt someone was either fighting back to Moreau (which didn’t happen often, as he was too scared of him), but I’d also like to imagine that besides scratching the officers, he bit and hurt Robert quite badly, either Robert or one of the Lodgers, because he got overwhelmed and stressed. Robert really does not blame him no matter how badly it hurt or how serious the wound got, he shouldn’t have overwhelmed him but in his defense, cat body language is hard to read on a human. A positive from that was that Henry clearly felt guilty afterwards when he calmed down, which might have been the first ever sign that Henry was “savable”, as he clearly felt bad over what he did rather than trying to finish the job. It was the first time he actually walked up to Robert and touched him-- headbutted him, even, because he felt so bad for what he did because Robert has only been nice to him. Robert was wrapping a bandage around his arm when Henry came up to him, gently chirping and headbutting him, and Robert straight up bawled his eyes out.

Zosi was literally the only living being that Henry allowed close to him for many, many days. Zosi was both undead and also an animal, which was the two things that Henry associated with safety after having found comfort with Moreau’s monstrosities. Zosi was quickly in charge of being the one to give Henry food and medicine since Henry would allow no one else to get close to his cage, and Zosi was in sole charge of keeping Henry entertained and happy and calm while Robert tried to figure out how to proceed with the treatment. Zosi was just happy to have Henry back, and Henry was happy to have a friend.

When Henry got tortured and lost his sense of awareness, Hyde faded away, but only temporarily. He is, as said, trapped in the mindscape for the time being and until Henry gets his awareness back. It’s quite a nightmare for Hyde because he is watching in real time, while also processing the trauma from Moreau, as Henry’s mind crumbles. Gone are the mind people, instead they are replaced by vague primal instincts and animal behaviors. It’s definitely not as serious as Hyde feels it is, as it’s a slow but sure recovery from a steady dip to awareness as soon as Henry is removed from the lab, but it’s still incredibly scary for him. Henry can’t see or hear him anymore, and even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to react or process him.

It takes almost about 1-3 months before Henry has warmed up to everyone, physically healed, and was able to get the therapy he needed to even become aware, yet he never got rid of the feralness in him. Whenever he is stressed, scared, or overwhelmed, he might jump back into pure feralness or get a few of the key characteristics; subtle physical and behavioral appearance, etc. Sometimes it’s hard for him to get out of it, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes all he has to do is calm down and relax, sometimes he has to sleep it off. Regardless, the Lodgers and his friends/love interests all do their best to keep Henry calmed and relaxed, and make sure he never has to endure as much stress as he did before and after what happened with Moreau. 

(Basically, he goes from full feral to what the Feral Au is rn)

The public never really gets to know about Henry’s... Ahem, condition, however, most seem to accept the excuse that Henry has terrible anxiety after his torture, ergo making it easy for his friends or lover/s to help Henry out of a room or a situation when he starts feeling overwhelmed and like he is about to turn feral. They are all calm and patient and loving and protective with him, every single one, and Henry is forever grateful for the patient they bring him.

Some random rambles btw:

Out of everyone that isn’t his lover for the branch, Henry’s favorite persons are Maijabi and Ito. Maijabi because he feels like his dad, Ito because the feral state in Henry sees her as his cub or pup, in some weird way. When Henry is docile, both Maijabi and Ito quickly learn that Henry very much loves attention and grooming his favorite persons.

I got the idea while writing the Emma route that maybe she was already pregnant by the time that Henry got kidnapped and turned feral, although it was early on in the pregnancy. I just love the angst of Emma wondering if she will lose her husband and if Henry will ever get to meet their child, and the thought of feral Henry freely being allowed to get close to Emma (they were all very worried about that) and immediately sniffing and headbutting her belly is just <3 (Also the thought of Henry almost immediately panicking when the kid is born and Emma wants him to hold him, suddenly his eyes dilate and his hair puffs up but it’s like a cat staring at something absolutely wonderful)

Surprisingly, Frankenstein was one of those who often would sneak into Henry’s room just to see him. In this crossover au, I’d imagine she’d be much more sympathetic for him. Maybe she would talk to him and apologize for bringing him into this at all, maybe she would even apologize for what she said and did to him personally.

I refuse to acknowledge a bad au branch for this one where Henry turns permanently feral and they either have to kill him or let him loose in the wild <3

[theradioghost]

for no particular reason: opinions on Various Frankenstein Movies I Have Consumed

Hallmark Channel Miniseries (2004)

god i want to love this so much more than i do.

there’s so much to love. the sweet sweet face of henry clerval. that absolute baby of a creature. the fidelity to so many details that somehow just make the few-but-significant departures completely unbearable.

“frankenstein wants to bring back the dead” is for me without question the worst sin any adaptation can commit, but especially in one that is clearly otherwise working so hard to be faithful to the original. as i have said before: IF THIS BITCH KNEW HOW TO BRING BACK THE DEAD HE’D HAVE A LOT FUCKING FEWER PROBLEMS.

Also, don't even get me started on their portrayal of late-1700s graverobbing (the professor would not have been shocked! but also, Germany had laws that significantly reduced the need for body theft, so why does this act like he's studying in Britain? WRONG. oh fuck, i’ve gotten started)

i think i actually might never have finished watching this one? i don’t remember. i probably should just for the fact that it contains Clerval

Victor Frankenstein (2015)

Unquestionably the least faithful adaptation.

Unquestionably and by far THE GAYEST ADAPTATION.

This is not a story about scientific hubris and a sad monster, this is a story about Hot Frankenstein gazing lovingly into Hot Igor's eyes and gushing about how wonderful and brilliant he is, and then getting really pissy and jealous when he acquires a girlfriend.

I can almost forgive it for having the single worst creature I've ever been subjected to, and for once again committing the sin of Bringing Back The Dead. Also for having such a flat color scheme in such a weird movie that deserved the jewel tones of the bizarre melodrama that it is.

also, I kind of feel more willing to let this one Bring Back The Dead, because they went so hard on that particular theme? like, these are in no way those original characters from the book, and so it almost works to have given this bizarro frankenstein his own motivation.

a very bad movie objectively but you should watch it anyway

I, Frankenstein (2014)

... I do not hate this movie anywhere nearly as much as I should.

Neatly sidesteps the question of fidelity to the novel by not including any of the events of the novel. It's a refreshing change to have an adaptation truly focused on an articulate, self-aware creature

also I liked that the rank-and-file female soldiers among the gargoyle-people weren't all betitted in their gargoyle forms? If I remember correctly their leader does look very different from the rest, but for the most part all the gargoyles look the same.

It also has a truly, unbelievably bonkers plot? I think this is the rare situation where being such a fan of the source material has made me *more* willing to forgive its many, many flaws as an actual movie. I can really actually live with this one, somehow.

Definitely a So Bad It's Good gem with little hints of a neat idea buried within the weird and bad glory of it

Universal Frankenstein (1931)

I mean, what is there still to say about it?

No, it's not at all faithful to the original novel, but at this point that's almost not a question anymore

It gave us so much. The genius of Jack Pierce's makeup, book-accurate or not. Boris Karloff's star-making role. The iconic censor-terrifying blasphemy - It's alive! Now I know what it feels like to be God! The quintessential images of mad science that have haunted our cultural imagination ever since. James Whale's understanding - which All Us Gays know in our hearts is at least in part because he was one of us - that the creature is as much victim as villain, striking out only against a world that struck him first simply for being who he is. never forget that this movie was made by an openly gay man.

In that sense, I feel like it's ultimately faithful to the novel in the way that most matters? It knows that there is more than one monster on this screen, and it knows which one we should be on the side of when the credits roll.

WRT the sequels I would never neglect to mention the majesty of the Bride, but I also want to give a shout to poor, studio-abused Bela Lugosi, who was told he was playing the creature as blind in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man and then blamed for the moaning arms-out cliche when all reference to blindness and all his lines of dialogue were cut from the movie.

The Curse of Frankenstein (1957)

shoutout to Hammer Films for setting apart their movies from Universal by really focusing on Frankenstein, not the creature

and damn, if Peter Cushing didn’t give us a hell of a villain protagonist though

and of course it's Hammer, so, boobs! Gore! Poor Christopher Lee in that makeup! But what we're really here for is the inevitable gravity that pulls a physically and mentally deteriorating Frankenstein back into this same mistake over and over for decades over the course of this series

I have never heard of Ralph Bates, I don't know who that is, don't call this number again

Ngl I actually prefer the Hammer Draculas and I definitely prefer Sir Christopher there, I know they cast him because he was extremely tall, but he's too dignified for this

There's something very satisfying, though, about the sheer variety of creatures that Hammer goes through set against Baron Frankenstein's complete inability to change or give up. Articulate? Monstrous? Two human souls in one body? Frankenstein himself? It's a wild ride! Every third character's name is Hans!

only watch these if you have a tolerance for Old Movies with Problems but if you delight in cheesy old horror the way I do then go for it

The Bride (1985)

this was the first frankenstein movie adaptation i ever saw and I don’t want to think about it

the creature is played by mr krabs and Sting is there

that’s all

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

[realm-sweet-realm]

Prison Cell, chapter 1

Well, this one took on a life of its own. I intended to write a simple one-off taking place in an AU where the studio became the sketch dimension before most of the sacrifices were made. Turns out that this is going to take longer than that. While this AU will have an emphasis on horror, especially in the later chapters, I also want to show the resilience of some of these characters.

---

Joey Drew Studios was once an animation studio. Functionally, it still was. But before everyone’s eyes, it had become Hell.

The machine had been hard to ignore, but easy not to look into. No one seemed to know what it did save for a few, but no one was about to quit over it during the Great Depression.

The cult behaviour, in retrospect, had been the first sign. It isn’t everywhere that your boss demands an item from your workplace as a sacrifice to the Gods. But back then, it had seemed nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Pedestals had been set up in the break rooms. Sometimes your coworkers would go there to pray. It was strange. But again, not worth looking into, and not worth quitting over.

Joey had always been eccentric. Joey had always been unreasonable. Joey had always had an angry streak. If any of that was getting worse, it was getting worse at a fairly slow rate.

All of it happened so slowly. Until it happened all at once. The machine malfunctioned. It went into overdrive. Gent workers had rushed to quiet it. They turned off its power supply, and nothing happened. In desperation, they broke the pipes that had once fed it ink, and nothing happened. Finally, they frantically tried to dismantle it as it spewed ink, and... nothing happened. Even the strongest of men could not so much as loosen a bolt from the machine.

Then, something happened. An rapidly-growing area surrounding the machine lost its colour and detail- reduced to lines on a page.

In a last-ditch attempt to fix the machine, Joey and the closest members of his inner circle entered the ink machine room. No one knew what had happened. To outsiders, it had sounded like the ink machine had exploded. No one who had been in the room at the time emerged except for Sammy Lawrence, who came out limping and covered head-to-toe in ink.

From that point on, no one could leave. Doors to the outside were locked, and windows showed only black void. Sammy talked to many people in private in the coming days, and firm lines were drawn between those who were loyal to the cult, and those who weren’t- those who were donning masks and uniform. Those who were loyal left the studio occasionally- for meetings or to pick up supplies. Those who were not loyal had no way of knowing how they did.

Joey Drew still existed. Early on, there were rumours that he was dead and that his loyalists were merely following him in spirit, but before long, most people knew someone who had seen his new form.

Work remained much the same, albeit with a few fewer people, who had either not been in the studio that day, or whose primary duty was now distribution and getting supplies because they were some of the only people allowed outside. Everyone fulfilled their role. Gent workers maintained the machine. The others made cartoons, which, apparently, were still making it out to the outside world somehow. They ate. They slept. They mourned their losses. They formed small groups and tried to keep hope. A few small insurrections began, but but quickly ended in violence and were abandoned. With no access to medical professionals, no one wanted violence.

While no one in the studio had it easy, Susie Campbell held an additional secret. Every few days in the dead of night, a creature would come to her- a creature with a mask and curling, demonic horns made of ink. She’d wake up to the horrible creature sitting on her chest so she couldn’t move, and it would put a syringe in her neck and draw blood. This went on for weeks. Locking the door didn’t stop it. Eventually, it made her want to sleep as little as possible, and she began to wander the halls at night, oftentimes falling asleep in random places.

One night, after falling asleep in a hallway in the music department, she was roused by Norman Polk.

“Hey. Come with me tonight,” he whispered, helping her up. “That thing’s been stealing your blood, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Susie whispered back.

“I know someone else in that situation. But don’t worry- it doesn’t bother him anymore, either.”

Norman led Susie into one of the offices. Two cots had been set up, and one already had a person sleeping in it. “You settle in. I’ll go and look for another cot to bring in here. If the demon wants your blood, it’ll have to go through me.”

“Thank you,” Susie said. She wanted to say more, but didn’t know what to say. She was fast asleep before Norman returned.

Before the transformation of the studio, it would have been strange to see the two of them together, but times had changed. The big, strange, sneaky cryptid had gone from someone you avoided to someone you wanted on your side. And yet, on a social level Norman still mostly left the music room to themselves most days- he preferred to eavesdrop or hang out with the people who’d accepted him before all of this.

That changed after he started sharing a room with Susie, though. She started inviting him to talk with her and Wally, or any of her other friends in the music room, and he’d agree to it, mostly because he wanted to spend time with her. Eventually it became well-known what he was doing for his ‘guests.’

It continued like that for a few weeks. The creature found other victims before it found her. Then, one night, it slipped into the room, and it did not like what it saw. Two of its previous victims, including Susie Campbell. Susie was tucked into Norman’s arms. She opened her eyes for a moment, saw him, and went back to sleep. She felt safe and protected, and it made the demon’s blood boil. Blood wasn’t worth being clobbered for- not while he could get it elsewhere. But something had to be done.

The night after, Thomas Connor and two men nearly as strong as he was, each wearing loyalist uniforms and masks, entered the room. They pulled Norman out of bed, handcuffed and gagged him, and began to lead him away. Susie woke up to the feeling of him being pulled off of her.

For a moment, she was stunned. The next, she was yelling for help. The man in the other bed woke up as well. Susie had never gotten to know her “roommate,” but that didn’t matter now. “Come with me,” she said. “We need to wake people up!”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see. Just trust me!” Susie had thought this day might come for quite some time, and she’d planned for it.

And so, the two followed the loyalists down the hall, banging on the doors and yelling to try and wake people up. Susie cursed herself for not finding out where people had been holing up. Her partner eventually found Emma Lamonte. Finally, one of the doors opened- it was Henry Stein- another person who could fight decently enough. “Henry, you’ve got to help. They’re taking Norman away. Hurry!”

Henry looked over to see it happening, and hesitated.

“Henry, if they get him on that elevator, we’ll never see him again!” Henry jolted into action, and soon he and Emma were in close range of the three loyalists.

It ended about as quickly. Emma managed to mule-kick one of the men in the stomach and knock the wind out of him before another one of the men snuck up behind her and began to choke her. Thomas was still holding Norman Polk as he squirmed in attempt to escape. Henry attempted to punch out the man strangling Emma, and he managed a few blows, but the man she’d kicked recovered and restrained Henry until Emma was unconscious. Once she was unconscious, her attacker rejoined Thomas, and they dragged Norman to the elevator. Before morning, Emma had been taken, too. Henry had run.

---

“I should have gotten in there,” Susie’s roommate said, breaking a long, tearful silence between them.

“You couldn’t have done anything. Those men were twice your size.” It hadn’t been as though they hadn’t spent the duration of the fight banging on doors in hopes of finding allies.

“I know.”

“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around the music department.”

“Grant Cohen. Finances.”

“Oh. Norman’s talked about you. Well, I’m glad you’re from another department. Tomorrow, I’m going to try and get as many people together as possible- a rescue party, I guess. You could help. Tell everyone in your department to meet in the recording theatre after hours.”

Grant laughed bitterly. “Sure. I’ll gather all the bravest souls in accounting and finance.” There was a pause. “Don’t you get it? We’re helpless. People haven’t been forming big groups because when they do, things like this happen. And anyhow, I’d bet anything that Norman is dead already.”

A part of Susie agreed. But that wasn’t the useful part of her right now. “Look, I’m not going to try and convince you. But personally, I don’t like feeling helpless just because I can’t knock out Thomas Connor.”

---

The following evening, Susie had gathered quite a number of people. Henry’s friends had come, terrified that he was essentially a wanted man and that he had to be hidden from loyalists. Grant had showed up with a few others from accounting that had agreed to come along. And of course, the music department had all noticed Norman’s absence.

Susie began the meeting by telling the story of what had happened to Norman. Surprisingly, what followed was a number of other people coming out about various grievances. A few others had had the same experience as Susie, of having their blood harvested. There were also a few from other departments who had refused to work and had been punished by having one of their bones broken in the night. Wally complained about having to mop up blood.

“We need to handle all of that, too. But first can we talk about Norman?” Susie said, trying to regain control of the meeting.

“If he got onto the elevator, he’s probably dead,” Abby said, as gently as she could. “Or at least, he’s on one of their levels. There’s no way we can go down there and rescue him. But, since you’ve brought us all together, we might as well get organized. Maybe there’s a way for us to defend each other. And figure out who will be running the projector from now on.”

A knock at the door sounded, and everyone in the room went perfectly still.

“Do we open it?” Susie asked.

It seemed entirely ridiculous that the loyalists would try to get in by politely knocking.

“If they’re right outside this door, this meeting is over anyhow, and we can’t stay in here forever,” Abby reasoned.

On the other side of the door was Sammy Lawrence, holding a cardboard box. He was wearing the uniform of the loyalists, but thankfully he was alone. “I am not your enemy. I come bearing gifts,” he said.

Abby carefully opened the box, as though she were disarming a bomb. Inside were a few loyalist uniforms and masks of different sizes. She inspected them carefully and found nothing suspicious about them.

“Why?” Abby asked.

“Joey is working on a way out for all of us. None of us are getting out without his help. That is why I’m a loyalist. But, evermore since the machine cursed us, he’s been… worsening. I still have hope that he will get us out of here, but until then, you need to stand up for yourselves. Consider these a tool- they could let you visit the lower levels. But I beg of you- don’t interfere with loyalist work. Loyalist work is what allows some of us to visit the outside, and us going to the outside is what keeps you fed. Remember that.”

Abby nodded. “Thank you. This is very… courageous of you, Mr. Lawrence. But we’re still going to escort you to the elevator now. We can’t risk that this is just you trying to spy on us.”

Sammy did not resist as Henry and Jack escorted him to the elevator, and he left for the lower floors without issue.

“Well," Abby said, “I guess we have a way of finding out what happened to him after all.”

[echotrinityme]

You will be loved Chapter 17: Love The Way You Lie(Bad Ending)

Charles glared at Dominic and he grinded his teeth in anger, he kept his gun trained on Dom. He wanted to shoot Dom but how is he going to do it without hurting Henry in the process.

"Let. Him. Go." demanded Charles, he was pissed off as hell.

"Why would I? I'm his lover." jeered Dominic, he tightened his grip on Henry making him whine in pain.

"No, you are not!" shouted Charles, he was getting more angry by the second.

"Oh yeah says who."

" You don't deserve him! Not after all the bullshit you put him through! shrieked Charles.

"You treat him like a slave, you hurt him, you say stuff that lower his self esteem, and you made him hurt himself to the point of attempted suicide!" bellowed Charles.

Dominic didn't reply right away, he just stand there not moving. Henry was still quietly sobbing and trembling like he was cold, Charles needed a plan and fast.

"Your point will be?" answered Dominic, nonchalantly.

"Aaugh! You're insufferable! The point is that you are the biggest douche on the planet!" shouted Charles, it was like talking to a wall.

"Why thank you, that's the nicest thing you've said to me."

Dominic was actually smiling when he said that, he actually chirped in response because of it. He looked like a cat that just ate the canary, Charles wanted to punch the grin off his face.

"Look, I don't know who the fuck do you think you are but you don't treat the person you love like trash."

"Oh please, you're the last person to know about a relationship considering what happened between you and the idiot twin call Calvin."

Charles instantly froze from shock and anger but didn't show it, he was right but at least Calvin didn't hurt him or made him hurtful himself. He just manipulated him...admittedly that hurt no matter what.

"Yeah...well at least he treated me decently, he wasn't hurting me!" argued Charles, his voice wavered in sadness.

"Even though he lied to you about Henry." hissed Dominic, acidly.

Henry was watching the scene with confusion and shock on his face, Calvin manipulated Charles into a relationship? Why? How come he just heard of this now?

Charles didn't reply, he knew Dominic was tormenting him. Trying to get a rise out of him, he won't let him have it. Charles gave Dominic a glare to show defiance.

Henry was trying to figure it a way to distract Dom so Charles can help him, as he was thinking of a plan the door open again and everyone turned to see Rupert, Ellie, and Dave standing there with their guns pointed towards Dominic.

"Ok, this is getting old." said Dominic, he was about to head towards the exit until Rupert stepped in front of him, blocking his escape.

"Hold it right there, asshole." growled Rupert.

"Let him go!" exclaimed Ellie, Dave kept his gun and gaze on Dominic to make sure he doesn't move.

"Oh how sweet, I didn't realize you have so many friends to come save you, Henry." spat Dominic, sarcastically.

Henry didn't retort, his expression was blank. He thought no one cared about him but looks like someone does, he hoped Dominic doesn't hurt or kill them...that seems unlikely.

Rupert stepped forward to Dominic to put his gun on his chest, he was angry and annoyed at Dom's behavior. He grabbed Dominic's shirt and stared at him with malice.

"Let Henry go you arrogant, selfish, son of a pig or I'll blow your brains out." snarled Rupert.

"Ok." said Dominic, calmly. Which startled everyone, he was acting calm, too calm.

Dominic let go of Henry who was waiting for something to happen, everyone thought Dominic was acting strange. They all held their breaths while Rupert motioned Henry to come towards him.

Henry did as he was told, without hesitation. Charles was keeping an eye on Dominic to make sure he's not gonna hurt Henry or anyone in the room, they all prayed that Dominic would keep being calm and settle the situation with amicable terms.

He didn't.

In a flash, he pulled the trigger and shot Henry. Charles screamed in despair while Rupert and Dave shot towards Dominic to fight him.

Henry fell onto the floor, his stomach was bleeding. Henry kept his hand on the wound while Charles rushed to his side, Ellie followed him and she ripped a sleeve to stop the wound from bleeding.

"Hen! Oh God Henry!" shouted Charles, he was crying hysterically.

Ellie kept the rag on the wound but she was also crying, they both did their best to help Henry with his wound. Meanwhile, Rupert and Dave were struggling with Dominic, he was stronger than them and he was scrambling for the gun which he dropped.

"You bastard!" bellowed Rupert.

Dominic shoved Dave and he landed on the floor, he stared up Dom who was still struggling. He stand up and had a determined look on his face, "Ok, Dave you got this." he said to himself.

He snatched the gun that Dom was reaching for and he threw to the side, he got out his own gun and aimed at him. He was about to pull the trigger until a bullet whizzed by him into Dominic's head, killing him instantly.

Rupert let go of the corpse and saw that the Bukowski twins were there, Calvin was holding the pistol and it was aiming at Dom. He pulled the trigger to kill him and Konrad was shaking while he was holding his gun at Dom.

"Uh...good teamwork." said Dave, awkwardly.

"Come on, Henry stay with us." exclaimed Charles, his voice cracking and making everyone rushed towards them.

By now, Henry coughed up blood. There was blood everywhere, Rupert checked his pulse. It was getting weaker and his body getting more cold by the minute.

"S-Stop." croaked Henry, which made everyone stop for a moment.

"B-But Henry, you need help!" wailed Charles, Ellie nodded vigorously so did Dave while Rupert witness the scene with indifference.

Rupert knows that Henry was not going to make it and so did Henry.

"There's something I have to tell you and can you promise me this?" said Henry, his voice wavered and he coughed up more blood.

"I love you Charles and please be happy."

"I love you too Hen...I will."

When Charles said that, his voice cracked and he was sobbing loudly.

"Please Henry, don't leave me." pleaded Charles.

Henry was starting to loose consciousness, he began to close his eyes. His left hand that was holding Charles' hand went lip and his breathing slow to a stop, he moved no more.

Everyone watched in horror as Henry didn't move, they waited for a movement, for a sound but nothing. Charles shook Henry to get up but that didn't work either, he was dead.

"It's too late Charles, he's dead." said Rupert, softly but he was sobbing.

"No...he can't be" choked Charles.

"He just can't."

Rupert shook his head in sadness and he went to comfort him, Ellie was crying while Dave was holding her. Konrad and Calvin watched the scene and they also began to sob, Calvin was feeling immense guilt and sadness.

He made Charles lose Henry forever, Charles is never ever gonna forgive him and he deserved hatred from him.

Charles picked up Henry's body bridle style and without another word he walked out, the floor had a huge blood stain reminding them on what happened with Henry.

Charles walked over to the base still holding Henry's corpse, as got into the entrance of the base everyone was talking and gossiping with each other until they saw Charles carrying Henry's body.

Everyone stared at them with shock and confusion on their faces, however they all stand aside for Charles. Their faces became solemn and bowed their heads in sign of respect, they also took off their hats too.

The General was outside the tent talking to Terrance and Randy until a random soldier ran up to him, the General was about to ask what's going on when the soldier interrupted him.

"Sir, I think you should come see this." said the Soldier, his tone serious.

Galeforce raised an eyebrow and he beckoned the soldier to lead the way, he and Henry's dads followed the soldier hastily.

Victoria was trying to find Ellie when she saw a group formed into a circle, she went to the circle and was about to tell them off until she saw Charles carrying a body...Henry's body.

She gasped softly but before she can say anything, there was a large wail coming from the other direction. She turned to find the source when she saw Terrance on the ground, he was crying hysterically and Randy comforted him but he was also crying.

Galeforce sighed in mourning, he never expected to come like this. He went up to Charles and he silently took Henry's corpse away from Charles and he walked towards the two weeping men.

Charles' clothes was wet and a deep crimson, his face was blank, emotionless. He hadn't shown sign of movement, he just stood there motionless.

The others soon catches up with Charles and Rupert shook him by the shoulders but no response, Ellie tried to shake him harder but no budge.

"C'mon Charles, say something." pleaded Ellie.

"Oi! Charles, speak to us!"

"Charles! Charles!"

Rupert and Dave shouted at Charles but he didn't hear any of it, the voices sounded as if they were underwater to him.

Charles' whole body went cold and his heart was numb, he didn't realize that everyone was trying to get his attention until he felt a really hard punch into his face.

Out of no where, Terrance punched Charles and it made Charles snapped back into reality, he fell on the ground  with a thud.

"Wha?" said Charles, finally speaking but his voice choked.

"You promise to protect him!" shrieked Terrance, his voice wavered and his eyes were red and glossy.

Randy had to hold him back and Rupert helped Charles up, he glared at Terrance but Charles stared at him with sadness and shame.

"Because of you! He's dead!"

"Terry, please calm down."

Randy hugged Terrance as he cried into his husband's chest, Charles couldn't blame him, he did fail to protect Henry.

His vision blurred and he felt hot liquid streaming down his cheeks, he finally started to sob. He ran to his helicopter, ignoring anyone calling him.

He got into his helicopter and went to a designated spot he brought Henry, the cliff was in sight and he landed. He walked to the cliffside and he admired the scenery with sorrow.

He sighed and his tears are now dried, he stared out at the sunset in awe. He gave himself a small sad smile, he now feels more alone than ever.

His life will be full of emptiness, Henry told him to be happy but how could he be happy without Henry?

He wouldn't be...

[lennydaisy]

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead AU

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is. Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you, not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

                         The Walking Dead.

        Season 1-?

                                         FEM OC! and ?

This is the prologue for a Walking dead AU that I wrote ages ago, and I feel like its too good to waste. So here it is :))

‘Now to John, who's live at the scene. John, what's happening there?'

'I'm here at Central Atlanta Hospital where there has been a reported disturbance within the wards. Patients allegedly have gone rogue, biting and scratching the doctors and each other.'

'If we pan to our left here, you can see the hallways are overflowing with newly found patients from the attacks.'

Glancing up at the ancient box TV perched in the top corner of the room, eyebrows frowned as I take another bite of my bland chicken sandwich.

The screen displays a lit yellow Hospital hallway with beds and chairs cluttering the space. With no room to breathe, the patients packed together like a tin of sardines.

The camera zooms into one patient in particular, who judging by their attire is a nurse themselves. A sickly colour of unnatural grey washed over their face, a layer of sweat glistening under the cheap lights and her veins protruding from her neck as though she's struggling to keep herself calm.

'Miss, would you be able to explain how your feeling?'

I can't help but scoff at the reporter's request. She is clearly in no condition to answer any of his questions and it's downright ignorant to shove a microphone in the face of a woman who has clearly seen better days.

The women slowly turned to face the reporter, her eyes appearing to lack any colour with bags drooping down to her jaw, and glares with all she can muster. Despite clearly being exhausted from whatever is happening to her body, she has no problem expressing her aggravation towards the man.

'Not responsive I see. Well no mind, as the viewers at home can see, Central Hospital is in desperate need of doctors and nurses. So I'm here to announce that if there is anyone-'

I don't know how to describe what I just saw. Just know that it was revolting enough to put me off chicken sandwiches forever.

In the midst of the reporter's announcement, a pair of hands slowly made their way around his body. Their nails were bitten down to stumps, their fingers a troubled colour of blue as though clogged with blood. The sickly hands, lazily but purposefully, claw at the reports button-up shirt from behind. Tugging on the attachments like grips, the women who the reporter was previously questioning is now sinking her teeth into the man's neck. Trails of blood dripping from her lips as she pulls her jaw roughly away from his neck taking a clump of him with her.

The look of pure horror wash over the man's faces, and mines in probably mimicking his. I've never seen anyone's eyes pop so far from their head. The face of sheer panic and terror covering his visuals as he opens his mouth to let out what I can only assume to be a deafening scream but before a sound is made the camera quickly cuts back to the studio, where the two anchors are now shaking at the sight they just witnessed live.

'We'll be back after this quick intermission,' squeaked out the anchor, eyes still wide, never leaving the screen off camera.

'Were you recently involved in an accident?',  the convenient ad was interrupted by the television being turned off. Snapping my head to my right, only to be met by the sheepish face of Darcy, the department receptionist. Smiling weakly at me from her desk, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about. "Were we just watching the same clip," I breathe baffled at the idea of not worrying about what we just witnessed, "That man just had his neck bitten into but some Wednesday Adams looking women," I laughed, struggling myself to understand what just happened.

"I'm sure he's fine," she waves her hand in my direction before quickly standing up as I did seconds before, " What are you doing?" She questions as I grab my hat off my peg.

Rolling my eyes as I make the reach for my keys, "My job," my fingers scraping the keys before they are snatched out of my reach. Looking up at the elderly women with bored eyes, I hold my hands out waiting for her to cave.

"No, half the department is already helping the city, we need you here in Kings County," she argues quickly running back to her desk, sliding into her roller chair. Out of my vision but not hearing, I hear the clashing of keys, the slamming of metal and the sound of a lock.

She locked my keys in her desk.

"Darcy- " I begin only to be interrupted.

"No" she heaves, hands crossed over her chest tightly, "It's bad enough those two are God knows where doing God knows what, I can't allow the only deputy left in the building to leave."

I would be annoyed and honestly, I am, the woman isn't not letting me do my job, but with just a simple look in her eyes I can see why she doesn't want me to leave, "You're scared," I point out pulling my chair over to the front of her desk, sitting my hat on the table.

Refusing to meet my eyes answered my assumption. She was scared and she had every right to be. What we just watched on the news isn't normal but it's not the first we've heard of this 'infection'. It's been going on for weeks, especially in the city. Residents reporting sights of people staggering through the streets, grabbing and biting anything they can get their hands on. Honestly sounds like a typical weekend in the city in my opinion, after a couple of drinks, you'd be surprised what some people turn into. I haven't seen any of these things personally but that news clip just made everything people have been bustling about all too real.

"These things are apparently migrating. It's not just a city virus, they're making their away out into places like this," her hands brushing the nonexistent lint off the top of my hat, her voice so soft, if you didn't listen closely enough you'd miss it.

"I'm not going to fill you with false hope because honestly, I have no idea what is happening but I will say this if I know you at all, something like a little virus isn't going to be the end to the bombshell that is Darcy Peters."

A small smile begins to creep onto her face, "You should have seen me in my youth," flipping her white shoulder-length hair.  Shaking my head with a giggle, I lean over her desk and turn her desktop towards me looking at the set back of work left for her to complete. Moving the mouse to the bottom of the screen I log her off, " Take the rest of the day off."

Knowing fine well she would say no, I left her no room for arguments as I hastily grabbed her coat passing it to her, "Don't tell me no Peters, Deputies orders," I said with authority behind my voice but eventually broke out into a smile at the delightful women before me.

"But what about-" she points at the computer addressing the work she still had to do. Grabbing the women's hands as I begin to drag her out the door, "Don't worry I'll handle it but you need to go home and chill out," snatching her car keys as I begin walking with her hand in hand to her beloved mustard Ford Fiesta.

Opening the driver's door, "M'lady," I bow holding the door. Shaking her head at my act, she wraps her arms around my shoulders, brings me in for a hug, slightly shocked but I hug her back none less, "Thank you, Macy," she laughs in my ear before pulling away, cupping my face like an affectionate grandmother.

Slapping my cheeks lightly she points her finger timidly at my face, "Now no running off play superhero, you're needed here," her eyes never leaving mine as though to challenge me to say otherwise. Well, I like a challenge, "No promises."

A dead look in her eyes causes me to laugh once more, "Okay, I promise I won't run off, I'll stay put. Now beat it, tell Richard I say hi," closing the door behind the women before stepping away from her car.

Just before she was about to drive off, she rolls down her window, "Oh before I forget, here's the key to the desk. Also there's something for Officer Friendly in there you won't miss it," see spoke throwing the flimsy key my way. Nodding my head towards the women, I mockingly salute her off, catching a glimpse of her rolling her eyes smiling.

Tossing the small, rusted key between my hands, I make my way back to Darcy's desk. After a couple of shakes and jiggles, the lock to the drawer eventually clicks. Pulling open the drawer, I grab my car keys stuffing them in my back pocket. That's when my eyes catch a shine reflecting out of the space. Reaching my hand in my finger brush across metal embroidery.

A Sheriff badge.

Unable to help the smile that made its way to my face as I stare down at the achievement of my friend. 'Officer Friendly's going to flip. So will someone else but for a different reason.' Shaking the thought from my head, I quickly run round to the desk of the newly found Sheriff. Going to place the shining badge on the desk, a note stops me;

Gone for a quick lapse of the county. If I'm not back by finish, I'll see you tomorrow, Officer Friendly.

Still sitting the badge on his desk, hoping that he at least makes it back in an hour, his face will be priceless. Snatching the remote from the floor, I flick the television back on, wanting to see if there are any updates on the situation.

'Government officials have requested that everyone stays inside their homes, only leaving unless extremely necessary. Until this is contained, please be cautious. This has been channel 5's news.'

Drowning out the rambling of the adverts, I absorb myself I'm my phone. 7 texts, damn I'm popular.

From Corey. Hey, can you drop me off :) Sent 07:39

From Corey. Oft okay never mind then I know I broke 3 of your car window, but that doesn't forbid access does it?? Fine two can play at that game, I'll walk. Ummmm that's when you're supposed to be the super big sister and say 'no sweet little sister, don't walk and ruin your BRAND NEW BOOTS, I'll happily drop you off' Boo you, you suck :(( Sent at 07:57

From Corey. Hey, can you pick me up ;) Sent at 17:12

This girl, I swear.

To Corey. I'll think about it :)) Sent Now.

Collecting my things, preparing myself for my leave. All too quickly trying to rush out the door, I skid to a halt and turn round to a certain desk in particular. Contemplating my options, I decided to take the newly found badge with me. For one; it is past shift time and I really want to witness his face when he gets promoted.' I'll just give it to him tomorrow when everyone's here', I thought.

Now I'm well aware that my car isn't exactly the best site for sore eyes, I'll be the first to admit that, but it was my dream car and it was the first real big purchase I ever made as an adult. My glorious, yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She's seen better days that for sure, but she means a lot to me and a couple of bumps and scratches isn't going to make me trade her in. Ever.

I grew up in Mormont, Georgia. A small county that no one has heard of and when people ask where I'm from I'm always met with the same look. In Mormont everybody knows everybody. It's a tight-knit community with no secrets. When word got out the resident widow had adopted 3 girls from the now shut down orphanage, the community was sent into a frenzy.

The same woman who was framed for burning down her old farmhouse that her husband happened to be still asleep in, was now going to be a mother of 3 very different daughters.

Without my mom I wouldn't even be here today, I would be how I am today. Mom adopted me when I was 4 years old, and even at a young age, I know that something about me was different from the other kids at kindergarten. Kids would come and leave joyfully holding the hands of their parents whitest they rambled on about what we did that day. I would leave on a bus with a woman who didn't really care enough to remember my name, looking after me in the centre was just a 9 to 5 for her and she got to go home to her family without a care in the world. I will never forget the day I was called down to the main office.

Believing that I had done something wrong, I reluctantly climbed down the creaking bunk beds steps. Looking around the room, I'm met with many stares, some glaring, some shaking their heads. I was in a room surround by judgemental toddlers.

I've never been called down to the office before. I've seen others been called down and they never come back. Tommy told me that Glenda, the houses mistress, feeds them to the two-headed man in the attic. I never believed him, knowing that he only wanted to scare me but now I'm not so sure. 'I don't want to be eaten', I thought.

One step at a time, I slowly make my way down the wooden steps that despite my lightweight still shriek under my shoes. Before I reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm met by the glorious Glenda. Her lopsided, spectacles clawed eyes boring down at me, 'Come,' she said before spinning around and heading to the room she just walked out from, 'There's someone here to see you."

'Someones here to see me? But I don't know anybody' I thought to myself as I follow behind the women with a newfound spring in my step.

"Mason this is Charlotte, she'd like to adopt you."

I guess you could say that's when I knew. When I first land my eyes on hers, I felt something that then in my short 4 years of life had never felt before, safe. Fast forward 22 years and that feeling had never left. Like the light of an eternal flame, that shine behind my mom's eyes never left, never even flickered. It's a constant reminder, I knew it when I was 4 years old and I still know it now at 26, that home isn't found in a physical building but instead found in those you surround yourself with.

No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to fully express my gratitude towards my mother. She gave me a chance and took me into her home with open arms. She says 'Thats what mothers do' and that might be true but she didn't have too. That's just the type of person she is. A heart of gold, a heart that is far too big for this world. She might not be my birth mother but in my opinion no one could do better, I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve the right to call her my mother, all I know is that I'm forever thankful for that.

Cora, or Corey, my sweet baby sister. The best way to describe her would be prissy. A real drama queen but strong-minded. When it comes to Corey no mountain is too high. Basically it's Corey's world and we're all just live in it. I take deep pride in telling her that she was an ugly baby and I'm not telling any lies. One look at her baby pictures sends a shiver down your spine.

She's your basic stressed college student who believes that the world will end if she fails to hand in one essay on time, but has no problem with partying the night before a big exam. Beginning to understand what type of person Corey is?

Then there's Ally. The big sister, my big sister. I remember growing up and always wanting to be like her when I grew up, I thought she was the coolest person in the world. She shaved off her hair when she was 18 and me and my 8-year-old self desired to do the same. Mom was mortified and kids at school did laugh at me for a while but I didn't care, I wanted to be like my sister, buzz cut and all.

As I grew up however I realised something, Ally had a darkness inside her. When I was younger I never noticed, I always saw her acts for rebellion as inspiration for my own mischief but as I got older and matured, she never. She always stayed the same. It some cases that's a good thing if you're a good person that is. I never believed my sister to be a bad person, more troubled than anything. I think why you get to the age of 36 and still rebel against your mother like an edgy teenager somethings not right.

Ally thinks the world is constantly against her, that the whole world is testing her, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I was the first to know she was pregnant, she didn't tell me herself but the positive stick sitting in the bathroom bunker was a big give away. I've seen her anger a handful of times and more often than not it consumes her, her anger is her own worse enemy and that day I meet the worst of it. There was a lot of screaming and hitting, and things being thrown in my direction. Luckily enough no one else was home when all this happened, but it was quite hard to explain why I had a black eye and Ally had burst knuckles. I lied, that's what I did.

'I got jumped,' it was the best I could come up with at the time. I made up a story of me being mugged and Ally saving the day. Mom barked up a storm, ask question after question, and I was slowly running out of ideas for my action sequence. That was until Ally spoke up,

'I'm going away for a while,' she said placing her fork down on her barely touched the plate, 'Work,' she replied to the looks that were sent her way. I refused to meet her eyes but I knew fine well that she was staring at me in particular, that didn't stop me from listening though.

'Oh, well for how long?,' Mom asked swirling around her glass of wine, 'A couple of months.'

'And what work relate thing causes you to be away for a couple of months?' Corey spoke up, her eyes never leaving Ally's as though to challenge her, 'The companies looking for a new manager, I thought I would try and run for it. It is more money,' she spoke trying to convince not only Cora but our reluctant mother too. Reluctant and our mom isn't two words that I would put together, she's a keen believer of 'if you want it, go and get it', but not when it comes to Ally.

'It seems like a good opportunity,' mother said honestly, nodding her head at her oldest daughter, 'seems like bullshit,' I muttered under my breath causing my mom to kick my shin from under the table, only to be faced with the stern stare of my mom.

'Language Mason' sternly spoke our mom making Cora laugh slightly at the use of my full real name.

'I'm just saying, she seems to go on a lot of these trips and comes back empty-handed every time, sorry for having some doubt.'

'That's enough Cora,' Mom said not breaking eye contact with her youngest who is sitting across the dinner table from her, 'yeah whatever, can I be excused?' Before she could get an answer she was already on her feet marching out the room.

Nodding sadly, mom looked around the table at the remaining 2, 'Macy, darling,  you've barely touched your dinner.'

Meeting her eyes, 'I had a big lunch,' the lies pouring out my mouth at this point.

The rest of the dinner that night was filled with awkward silence. The sound of the chair next to me scraping against the old hardwood floor breaks my concentrated gaze on my plate. Ally's hard duty boots marching out of the room and storming up the stairs.

My mom let out a sigh and placed her fork on her now empty plate, looking up at the only remaining daughter at the table. Flashing my mom a small smile, taking a sip of my now lukewarm water, "You make good spaghetti mom"

"Go check on her for me please," she practical begged, her voice suggesting nothing but defeat, "She never talks to me anymore."

'I'm probably the last person she wants to see," is what I wanted to say to my mom, but looking at my mother with her head in her hands at the thought of my troubled older sister broke my heart.

Before taking the dreaded walk up the stairs and to the door at the end of the hall, I placed a hand on my mom's shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

'Everything will be okay.' I thought to myself.

Knocking on the door, only to receive no reply, 'I know you're in there,' I said continuously knocking on the oak door. Getting bored with being ignored, I did the brave and open the forbidden door, Ally's bedroom door.

Ally's bedroom is something, I don't know what that something is but it screams Ally. It's dishevelled yet bland, perfect for Ally I guess. Nothing but a set of drawers with half the handles missing, piles of dirty washing sitting in the corner of her room that will probably stay there for weeks, and a chipped dark wood bed. And then there's Ally, who is currently packing a bag.

'There is no business trip is there?' I asked even though I fine well knew the answer already. Throwing the last of her clothes in the bag, she stares me dead in the eye from her position at the bottom of her bed, 'I have to get out of here.'

Walking further into her room as she walks back to her drawers closing them loudly, 'Promise me one thing,' I asked looking out the window at the deserted street. Hearing no noise for behind me I continued, 'That we'll get to meet them one day,'

'I can't promise you that,' turning round to stare at her in confusion, 'what you're never coming back?' I asked softly shaking my head at the idea of her leave and never returning. Ally goes away a lot but she always comes back. We might not be as close as we use to be when I was younger but it's a comfort to know that she's here with us.

She just looked at me not speaking yet her glances spoke a thousand words. I didn't know silence could get any quieter but I was proven wrong in that moment. It was as though the whole world stopped spinning, it was like the world ended right and then. Shaking my head at my sister mentality, my heartbreaking even at the thought of what she wanted to do, 'Oh,' was the only response I muster up as I move to sit at the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly feeling like jello.

Rubbing my hands over my eyes and tugging at my hair, trying to get all my thoughts to settle down. The feel of a hand softly holding my shoulder caught my attention. Looking down at me was my sister, my big sister, that I wanted with every fibre of my being to be like when I grew up. But people change, and Ally surely did. That moment made me realise something, Ally never changed. No, she was always the same. It was me who changed, I was just too young to realise.

The day that Ally left, a part of myself left with her, and that necessarily wasn't a bad thing. No, she took the naive part with her. The sense that everything was okay now, that everything was perfect now because I had a family. Sometimes families go through rough patches and for some reason ours was never-ending.

Shaking my head, snapping myself out of my thoughts, focussing once more on my journey home. I love county lanes, there the best to drive on. You can go as fast as you want and when you go over a little hill you get those silly butterflies in the pit of your stomach. My family hates driving with me on these roads. Apparently I'm too careless when it comes to driving, I argue that I'm not careless I'm just used to acting like I'm in the Fast and Furious movies.

Speaking of radical driving, I hit the breaks slowly once I spot what's up ahead. A car parked sporadically in the middle of the lane, but that's not what's got me confused. There are people, a headcount of about ten, all banging their hands lazily on the windows of the car, smearing their faces over the glass.

Cutting the engine, leaning over to the car pocket reaching for my emergency gun, I slowly stalk my way out of the car. Holding the gun with both hands at the ground, the safety still on as I make my way closer but not too close.

"Hey, what are you guys doing, what's the problem-" my voice slowly losing its confidence as the figures around the car turn to face me and begin to walk drunkenly towards me. The noise they make doesn't sound too good, the air now filled with grunts and groans, the sounds of pain. I noticed a couple not paying me any mind, to busy eating something. Oh.

Realising exactly what I'm witnessing. Those are the sick people that has the world on edge. A group of them a coming right towards me. Raising my gun and flipping the safety off, I take aim, "Don't come any closer, I'll shoot," I announce not really wanting to have to shoot them. I might as well not have spoken, they just keep pushing, stumbling over one another as they inch closer.

Lining up, setting my sights on one, in particular, a middle-aged man, a civilian, I shoot one shot into his left leg. Nothing. A slight knockback at most but he's still alive. Trying again, I aim for his chest and the same happened again. Lastly shooting the head, that's what does it. He's down.

That one alone took up to much time, I have another 8 headed my way and I only have a limited amount of bullets. The odds were not in my favour, that much was clear. Making a dash for my car, hastily ripping my keys from my pocket. Silence.

"Come on don't fail me now!" I said through gritted teeth. Shoving the keys into the engine once more and twisting. Sounds of my struggle echo throughout the car as I feel the nonexistent sweat beginning to build as my breath becomes hot with frustration. Now as good a point as any to point out that I have 3 broken windows, no thanks to Cora. Not broken as in they don't go down, oh no, they don't go up. I mean how one single girl breaks 3 windows is beyond me. Honestly, it didn't bother me that much to begin with, it gives my car character. Right now though it's a different story.

If my internal panic with my car not starts wasn't enough, then maybe those things reaching their grimy hands in my car are. Before I knew it my car was surrounded by the creatures, some toppling over the bonnet of my car, others pushing their hands through my half-cracked down windows. I feel the lazy touch of the fingers brushing against my shoulders and hair causing my entire body to shiver.

"Please" I beg over the sounds of the deathly groans and screams. Turning the key again with my sweaty hands, my body shaking in fear of what's to come. As though Jumpstarted, my car roars to life. The sound of my own engine has never sounded so delightful and I should honestly appreciate it more.

Not caring for speed limits, I push the pedal to the metal. The shrieking of my tires scraping on the hard concrete leaving evidence of my wheels spinning. Pushing through the moss pit of things before my car wasn't as hard as it sounds, even though they look like dead weight, they are quite easy to redirect.

Speeding my car a distance away for the scene, next to the car they were previously attacking, before I slow to a stop again, looking in my rearview mirror. They're following me. Looking to my left, I see the beaten car. Curdling blood dripping from the passenger seat window with loose pieces of straggling hair stuck to the wing mirror. Leaning over slightly I see a few fingers laying on the ground. Holding back my gag, I look back up into the car, only to be met with a figure. A hard to distinguish figure. Completely devoured and unrecognisable. Those rabid animals shredded these poor souls face to shreds with any features now ruined.

Shaking my head at the sounds of the things coming closer to my car again, I slowing start moving, only to hit the breaks instantly as a thought came to my head. Looking in my rearview mirror again at the car, tears begin to build in my eyes. A mustard Ford Fiesta. That's the car. That's her car. My cheeks slightly soaked, my hands shaking once again as I roughly grab the roots of my hair. Having enough, I swat away the tears that are trailing down my cheeks, nose scrunched up as I try my hardest not to look back again. I didn't.

Driving down that road, the road that usually fills me with overwhelming joy, felt different this time around. It felt darker. The road that I knew ultimately leads me to home is beginning to feel like a drag. It's a road that I never want to drive down again because the only thought that I can think of now is: it's my fault.

[mr-nauseam]

The family jewls- Chapter I. Wretch.

The calm was broken by the pitiful and terrible cry that the man gave when he fell to the ground, the owner of the pawn shop hurried back inside his business to lock himself up but the miserable and trembling figure had a burst of energy that made him even with his clumsy steps managed to prevent the old man from closing the door:

"I beg you! I'll pay you the rest later but give it back, please!". He moaned desperately, kneeling down, which made his unkempt and dirty look all the more noticeable. The unfortunate soul who begged for mercy had an abnormally pale face and a pair of pronounced dark circles down his eyes, what could have been an attractive man in the past was now just a striking guy who looked too miserable.

Little by little a small discreet crowd was attentive to every word and every gesture of the actors in this dramatic scene.

"If you wanted it back, have thought about it before!". The owner of the pawnshop declared very annoyed but when he noticed the agitated breathing of the disaster in front of him so Mr. Clay felt so sorry for him that his tone softened a bit.

"What you have given me is not even a quarter of what the watch is worth is simply not enough".

"No, no, Mr. Clay, you don't understand, I must have it back. I swear I will have-".

"Oh come on!, you've got it back before! So stop acting like a lunatic, you know perfectly well how this works. I can't give it to you and please don't come back until you're ... in your right mind. Save us both the shame, please."

This last statement caused a horror in the face of the unhappy man who had lost control of himself and suddenly felt the weight of the glares of the gossipers who happened to pass by there and had stopped to admire him, he could feel how everyone judged him, how they condemned him and although he could not hear them, he knew perfectly what they should murmur, he got up with difficulty and fled.

Without knowing it, a woman who was observing the event in the distance followed in his footsteps, trying to reach him.

...

The waste man ran aimlessly, several people walked away when they saw him pass. He ran because a cacophony chased him altering his nerves: sardonic laughter echoed, some unpleasant glances pierced his soul, fingers pointing at him.

He felt harassed, trapped and sudden he feel a big desire for back home.

His home, the one and only.

He yearned for the old embroidered blankets, which remembered happier times, he yearned for summer nights watching the stars, he longed for the peace of the past so far now but for that reason he could not return home.

He had been avoiding it.

He couldn't, couldn't face the overwhelming amount of memories that would greet him upon crossing the threshold, of that he was sure.

Nostalgia would kill him and if he died now ...

"Watson!". A voice took him out of his ramblings. When he turned around he came face to face with Miss Enid Stoner. She had a compassionate look and noticed something late that she was holding his arm tightly, her grip was firm but it had been necessary to bring him back to reality.

Watson looked disoriented and very agitated. Enid tried to reassure him although with some suspicion, as if when she noticing these symptoms, she was aware of what was happening and she disapproved of the situation but she still knew that she should not leave him alone.

Her sat him on a bench and it was only then that he realized that he had reached the park, soon the vision of being in this familiar place almost made him run again but he stopped himself from doing it. A few minutes passed while silence reigned around them, the young man's breathing calmed a bit.

"If you could explain why you have been terrorizing half the town for several days, walking around the streets like a madman and begging in the pawn shop, I will be very grateful."

He said nothing.

"You can do it?". She pressed, being aware that his attitude betrayed a worrying uneasiness and although she would normally have ignored this fact, the absence of the unmistakable aroma of alcohol made Enid decide to pay attention.

And with a trembling voice Watson finally let the truth, that which he had kept for those two stormy days, escape from his lips:

"I ... John, he ... I received a telegram. And it said that ..." the tears flooded his blue eyes. "Oh! M-miss Stoner, I blew it. I ruined everything! I shouldn't have let him go".

Enid thought understood something but the shock of receiving such news made her ask for a clearer explanation:

"A telegram? Watson, what did the telegram say?".

"He was my little brother, I promised to take care of him, how is he ...". he reproached himself and when he heard her, his voice broke and in a whisper he said:

"No, don't make me say it, please."

All the pieces fell into place and Mrs. Stoner suddenly felt a small hole open in her heart:

"God." The silence full of tension allowed the woman who had cared for these two little ones for several years to process this blow, Henry Watson began to explain, wanting to silence his own mind:

"I have to get the watch back. I have nothing else left". He sobbed again. Enid wanted to hold his hand but Henry refused the contact.

"I thought this would sink me to unconsciousness but I've been more sober than ever! It's ironic, isn't it?". It was a painful and cruel joke that he made on himself, because Henry knew himself, he knew who he was; an alcoholic, a failure. And yet when this great pain hit him, he didn't want to indulge his senses.

"Watson don't say that."

"I can't allow myself to run away from the pain, I can't do this to her, I deserve to suffer. With full awareness."

"It's not easy, but he went to war, this has nothing-"

"Do not lie. We know why he went to that stupid place. It was for me. To run away from me."

Enid couldn't refute his words. Since that was the truth. In other times, she would have been glad that the older Watson stopped blaming her husband and admitted his guilt, but under these circumstances, she almost wanted him to return to that terrible habit if that could alleviate his pain.

"This makes no sense". Henry declared as he stood up. "Why Johnny?"

"Where are you going?" she asked, alarmed and anxious, feeling that if she left him alone, something terrible would happen.

" I do not know".

"You can come to my house, many years ago I said that you would be welcome whenever you need it and I keep it."

Henry ignored her and decided to walk aimlessly.

"Please don't do anything stupid."

"Your brother probably died in battle, with honor!, You can't ...". She expressed with some bitterness but she have the vague certainty that she should stop him, no matter how. The words echoed in Watson's mind.

"I swear to you, if I could do something to change things I would do it, if they gave me another chance I would take it, I would correct myself, I would do better but right now ... I need to get the watch back." With a more somber voice he tried to reassure her "I, I won't do anything wrong. I'm too much of a coward for it." And he left.

...

A very nervous boy moved his hands very nervously and checked the papers. In front of him a tall, intimidating-looking man gave him a murderous look.

"Explain us again. How come you confused the telegrams?"

"I- um- good. It was late and-". They cut him off.

"So you admit there was a mistake?"

"I, I do."

The older man gave a weary sigh and dropped into the chair with an exhausted expression:

"Then correct it."

The little boy was surprised at such a statement, no doubt he had imagined a much worse scenario. He was speechless and this irritated his boss.

"Right now!"

"Yes, yes, there I'm going". He took the pile of papers and hurried out of the room. --- I have writer's block and the characters of sh are like too far away for me so this is a pointless practice huh. My shit

[crimsonrae]

A Matter of Degrees

Chapter One

Summary:  Dr. Emil Hamilton had been fascinated by Superman, but not afraid. Five years after his death Clark finds out why.

Clark Kent x OC

Rated: Mature

A/N: I’m not a big Superman fan, but after watching Snyder’s films and Henry, I wanted to explore a more broken/healing Clark. Slowish build on this. Let me know if you want to be tagged. :)

Somewhere in the California Desert

He wanted to laugh.

It was an inappropriate reaction to the situation at hand, Emil knew this intrinsically, but he still wanted to laugh... mostly in disbelief. He had just watched as an alien and a human were taken hostage - as a Kryptonian spacecraft disappeared back into the sky. More than that, he had watched it happen with an entire platoon of U.S. military personnel. To say that the last few days had been surreal would really just be an understatement of biblical proportions.

He wasn't unaccustomed to weird situations, by any means, but his threshold had definitely just found a new level.

He snorted quietly to himself and focused on the hilarity bubbling in his gut, knowing that if he didn't the panic that lurked beneath would take over. Some part of him was terrified that this whole thing wasn't going to work, that handing over Kal-El – Superman- whatever-his damn-name-was and Ms. Lane was a giant mistake and he felt sick that he had just stood there and let it happen.

"Dr. Hamilton?"

What if General Zon annihilated the Earth anyway? Did he really have what he wanted?

"Dr. Hamilton, sir?"

Emil blinked as a hand grasped his shoulder and began to push him toward a waiting caravan. All around him the soldiers had begun to disperse, following new orders he assumed. General Swanwick ducked his head down and continued to prod the shorter man forward as he spoke hurriedly, "There's nothing for us to do here. We'll get you back to base to monitor the situation...with any luck, this General Zod will head back to whatever Godforsaken planet he came from."

"You really think that's what's gonna happen?" Emil questioned cynically. He wasn't really expecting a response as he clambered into a Humvee and pulled his phone from his pocket.

"I can only hope." The general murmured quietly before disappearing from the scientist's side.

Emil shook his head and dialed a number he knew by heart. He barely noticed when the car lurched forward as he listened to a familiar ring, he had the sinking feeling he would get her voicemail, but that was okay. Another moment past before he heard her voice.

Hi, you've reached Rebecca Hamilton. Leave a message and I'll get back to you when I have a free moment.

Beep.

Abrupt. To the point...yeah, that was his little girl. He smiled faintly, "Hey kiddo, it's been a few days since I've talked to you. I know it's probably nighttime where you're at right now, but I just... I just wanted to talk to you. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen lately or maybe you would. I met a young man that reminded me of you. Well, a young man and a reporter actually...it's a long story. I just want you to know, honey, that I love you and I'm proud of you. Give your old man a call when you get a chance, huh?"

He ended the call and tried not to frown sullenly as he turned his gaze to the passing scenery. The sergeant driving the Humvee shot him a side glance as he curiously asked, "Daughter?"

Emil jerked slightly, not expecting to be pulled from his thoughts as he glanced briefly at his phone, "Yeah...yeah, she um she's working somewhere in Southern Asia right now. Couldn't pronounce the name of the village even if I wanted to."

The sergeant nodded politely, "She a scientist like you?"

Emil huffed a small laugh, "No... no, she's a freelancer. One day she'll be a tour guide for some cruise-line, the next she's trekking through a jungle as a research assistant. She has this blog about her travels, it seems to keep her fed."

The sergeant raised a brow, "That's exciting...and worrying, I bet, for a father."

"Like you wouldn't believe." The doctor muttered ruefully, "She's always had my curiosity, but sometimes I wish she had gotten her mother's instead. Andrea was more inclined to sate her curiosity with books in a library. I was always the one that needed to be on-site somewhere. Becky got that from me and I'm sure somewhere Andi's laughing at the many heart attacks that our daughter has given me as a result."

The sergeant chuckled quietly as he navigated them through the base's gates, "I think that's just a child's prerogative, Dr. Hamilton."

"You're probably right." Emil agreed warmly as he thought of his daughter, he could practically see her mischievous smirk, "You have kids?"

"Two. A boy and a girl." The sergeant answered with a proud grin, "My girl just turned six and she bullies her big brother something awful.

He pulled up before a plain stucco building and slid a photo from his inside pocket to hand to Emil.

"Old school. I like it." The sides were crinkled, but it was a photo that probably went everywhere with the man. Two cherubic faces peered back at him and Emil smiled, "They're beautiful."

He clicked the side button of his phone to show the sergeant the photo acting as his wallpaper. It was him and Rebecca before she had disappeared off for lands unknown again. She had wrapped an arm around his neck as she made him take a selfie with her. It had been a good day.

"I break my phone on a regular basis. Photo's easier to keep around." The sergeant explained as he took Emil's phone and raised a brow, "You guys must be close."

Emil shrugged as they swapped back, "It's just been the two of us for a long time. She's my world, even when she's on the other side of it."

He slid his phone back into his pocket as he pushed the car door open and stepped outside. He leaned back in and offered his hand, "Thanks for the ride Sergeant...Haskell. It's been nice chatting with you."

"Aaron Haskell, sir. And you as well." Haskell replied taking the offered hand.

Their conversation was mundane at best, but Emil recognized it for what it was- a brief distraction from the horror the world had become in the past forty-eight hours. That there is still a possibility of there being no tomorrow. The two parted ways from there and Emil drifted through the next few hours as he watched the screen in the situation room. General Zod was still hovering outside Earth with no word from either Ms. Lane or Superman.

It was just as a faint buzzing vibrated through his pocket that movement was detected on the screen. Emil bit his lip as his daughter's face flashed across the screen of his phone and he glanced once more at the group of tensely strung soldiers and scientists. They could do without him for a few minutes. If this was the world ending, he was damn well going to talk to his daughter.

"Hey, kiddo. Give me one second." Emil said hurriedly as he moved for the hall. No one paid him much attention, their eyes still glued to the screen.

"Hey, Dad." Rebecca said tiredly once he was settled somewhere somewhat privately, "I didn't like that message you left...it sounded too final... too goodbye-ish. You're okay, right?"

A fond smile crossed his lips, "Yeah, sweetheart, I'm fine. I'm just missing you. I wish you were here. What are you doing up? It must be late there."

"Super early actually. Are you sure, you're okay? I've seen the news, Dad." He heard her sigh quietly, "Aliens exist – the world may be ending. And I'm guessing that you're probably in the middle of it."

"You get news in the jungle?"

"Dad."

"Becky -" He started calmly, to anyone else they would have heard a weary, but confident young woman, but he heard the fear, the worry in his little girl.

"Don't tell me, you don't know what's going on, Dad." A dryly amused lilt entered her tone, "You seem to forget I know who you work for and that you have a tendency of leaving classified files on the kitchen table. I know what a big mucky-muck you are over there... Just tell me you're safe, okay?"

"I'm safe. I promise." He shook his head in exasperation, "I'm surrounded by guys with guns, can't get any safer."

"Yeah, right." She murmured quietly and he could almost picture her tugging at the necklace she always wore, "I've changed my flight. I'll be home the day after tomorrow."

"Oh, sweetheart, no. You were supposed to be in Nakhomi Ticakwok for another month. Don't cut your trip short, this is nothing." He cringed both relieved that she was coming home, but hating what was bringing her back enough to protest.

"Oh God, Dad, you weren't even a little bit close. Just say Malaysia, it'll keep you out of trouble." She muttered as she stifled a laugh, "And if it's nothing, then Malaysia isn't going anywhere. I can always come back."

"Becky..." He sighed.

She huffed on the other end, sounding for a moment just like her mother, "You know I hate it when you call me that."

Emil rolled his eyes, "You know, there was a time you hated being called Rebecca."

"That's because it usually meant I was in trouble, but I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad. Becky is a name for a little girl with pigtails and the tendency of being covered in dirt."

"Yeah well, you're my little girl, no matter how old you get and I bet you all the money in my wallet that you have your hair in braided pigtails right now and are covered in dirt."

Emil grinned at the stymied silence from the other end of the line. She was probably checking herself over, but he knew his daughter.

"...It's not dirt, it's clay." She stated defiantly and he snorted.

"Twenty-seven years old and still a walking tornado." He murmured affectionally, "Don't you ever change, kiddo."

"Yeah, yeah." She muttered quietly, "Tell me about this guy you mentioned in your message. You said he reminded you of me."

Emil swallowed a sigh as he looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was listening to him. Even still, he cordoned himself into a small side office, "He's... special, honey. Kinda like you. He can do things that quite frankly are astounding."

"Ah, you mean he's a freak like me."

"You're not a freak." Emil rebuked tiredly, "Being different, doesn't make you a freak."

"Hmm."

He knew the apathetic grunt was her placation for him, but it set his teeth on edge, "You're not a freak."

"Dad, just move on." Rebecca murmured quietly, it was an argument and an old one.

This time he let the sigh come, "He's strong and he was putting on this determined front for me and the General, but I could see he was worried, scared. All I wanted to do was tell him it was going to be okay, but I couldn't. Made me think of you. How brave you are, how strong..."

There was a moment of silence and then she asked, "Was this the alien? Did you guys find him?"

"Becky -"

"You did." She breathed, "Holy shit... Dad, do you think my abilities are-"

"You're human, Rebecca Josephina. I watched your mother give birth to you and there is no doubt that I'm your father, so don't even go there."

"Oh, the full name. Haven't gotten that in a while."

Emil rolled his eyes, "Oh kid, you're gonna be the death of me."

She snickered lightly before asking quite solemnly, "How'd you know he was scared?"

"Father's instinct." He murmured just as the door to the office swung open.

A bright-eyed tech peered at him worriedly, "Dr. Hamilton. You're needed in the sit -room."

Emil nodded and watched the tech run off as he sighed again, "Listen, honey, I have to go, but I'm glad I got to talk to you today."

"Me too."

"I love you so much, kid."

"I love you too. Dad, be safe please." Her voice sounded so small, despite the steadiness of it and he frowned.

"That goes both ways. I'll talk at ya later." Emil stated softly as he listened to her parting and quickly end the call.

It wasn't until hours later when Emil was aboard the C-17 and his fingers were reaching to push down the key that he thought back to his daughter. To the last words of their call. He prayed that this hairbrained scheme worked and it would save the world and his little girl, because it sure as hell wasn't going to save him.

Goodbye, kiddo.

Next Chapter

[imnotwolverine]

The girl next door - About plumbing

The Girl Next Door - Chapter 3 ABOUT PLUMBING*

<Chap 2 | Chap 4>

Summary: What do you do when your shower stops working after one very hot, sweaty run with your cute neighbour? Lizz finds out. 

Word count: 3.521

Warnings: smut alert, f- and m- receiving oral and bit of healthy (dwarvish) competition

Author’s note: SO. I wanted to pace this story and post every few days. But guess what? It’s friggin’ hot and I couldn’t sleep and..I may have written well into the night, finishing not only this chapter..but like..the next one too? Gosh I’m an incorrigible night owl.   

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Come on foxy! Keep up!’ Henry barely sounded out of breath as he trodded up the hill, a heavily panting Lizz not far behind.

As promised the two of them were going on a run, the morning still slightly chilly as the world around them slowly woke up after the stormy night that had forced Lizz to stay over at Henry’s place.

Lizz hadn’t caught much sleep that night, mulling over what to do about her ex-boyfriend..or did he still consider himself her boyfriend? Luis. And then there was Henry, this cute neighbour that stood at the ready for her every beck and call. A ridiculously cute neighbour, have you there. Henry, Henry, Henry. It took Lizz a lot of perseverance and innocent thoughts before she finally could stop asking herself the question: Is he big..everywhere?  

Henry hadn’t slept much either, his mind occupied with the fact his cute neighbour was laying downstairs on his couch and, as they had talked until deep into the night, he felt like their insidious teasing should either come to a full stop or a full go. A full go meaning she definitely wouldn’t be laying on that couch right now. Henry tossed and turned, his hands travelling where they shouldn’t. Eventually he had willed himself to sleep, afraid to awaken her, or even worse, get caught, if he gave in to his bodily needs. 

It made for this morning run to be particularly..exciting, for the both of them, even though neither one of them dared to admit their thoughts and midnight trepidations to one another.

Lizz growled while she finally made it over the hilltop, her breath short and raspy. ‘You just wait! ..We dwarves are natural sprinters! ..Very dangerous over short distances!’

Henry laughed aloud, turning around and tiptoeing backwards as he smiled from ear to ear.

‘Perhaps if you’d grow out your beard that’d work. But for now, it looks like foxy needs a bit of practise.’ Henry winked, making Lizz even more eager to beat him, her feet speeding up just enough so she could run past Henry, his body spinning to follow her lead. It was then her eye picked up the silhouettes of their houses just a few hundred meters away.

‘Last one home is a green pig!’ Lizz shouted, her tired legs kicking into gear, making Henry reel his head in confusion.

‘Oi! Wait up!’ He shouted after her, somewhat surprised at the sudden speed she was going at. Thankfully for him, it wasn’t long before Lizz was totally out of breath, her head red like a tomato as Henry finally managed to surpass her.

Reaching out his arms in victory he laughed, his legs slowing down to a walk before halting next to Lizz’s garden.

Both too out of breath to talk - Lizz near folding over with exertion - they stood there for a good moment, panting. Henry was the first to get his breath back, his chest reverberating with a chuckle. ‘You nearly got me there.’

‘Nearly.’ She panted, laughing through her short puffs.

‘Well, fair game foxy. Fair game. And thanks for joining me.’ He smiled, still panting softly. ‘’Twas good fun. See you at tea time?’

Lizz could only nod, her tied up red hair and red face a perfect match, her body still wrecked by her heavy panting. It took a good moment before she could manage to look up, her eyes just catching the last glimpse of Henry in his running shorts and simple grey tee. ‘Fuck me. Superman is fast.’ She muttered under her breath, quietly enough for Henry not to hear while he jogged back to his house.

*A few blinks of the eye later.*

—

Fumbling hands turned on the faucet nobs with increased worry.

‘Oh no. Oh no. No no. Not now.’

Lizz continued to turn on the nobs, but no more water came, the shower head dripping its last few, sacred drops.

’NOO…oh man. Why…’ She groaned, slowly blinking, some shampoo prickling her eyes as she tried to look at the handles. Nothing seemed wrong or out of the ordinary. ‘Oh please shower gods! Give me WATER!’ She pleaded, stretching her hands up in the air.

It almost seemed ironic, after half the house had practically drowned in the storm from last night.

But alas, Lizz was quick to decide she was not going to have this fight with her house right now, and instead she stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a large towel and slipping into her fluffy slippers.

Her hands moved to her sink, but also here the faucet wouldn’t give water.

Grr!

Could she just..let the shampoo dry and wash it off later?

Blinking her shampoo-tearing eyes, she decided that was a truly awful idea.

Moving to her bedroom - the floor, walls and bed still wet from the down pour from last night - she grabbed her phone from the sidetable, not hesitating a moment to call in for another favour from her friendly neighbourhood superman.

It only took a few rings before the superhero in question answered, his warm baritone voice greeting her with a tone of amusement.

‘Miss me already?’

‘Hen…No…Ehm..Okay. Here’s the thing. I think my house is cursed and the water gods have a bet running against me.’

‘I’m listening.’ He chuckled.

‘So, maybe I was showering and ..maybe the shower stopped working in the middle of me shampooing my hair? Just maybe?’ Lizz bit her lip, hoping Henry would at least lend her a bucket of hot water or something. Anything was better than the pots and pans with dirty, murky rainwater that were standing around in her house.

‘Hmm. Sounds like a problematic situation.’ He agreed, not giving her the pleasure of immediately offering her the use of his shower.

‘What do you want me to do about it, neighbour?’ He was obviously teasing her and she wished she could just poke his shoulder right now.

Darn him!

‘Well I don’t know. Maybe lend me your garden hose? Or invite me for an impromptu water balloon fight?’ She sniffled. Something about talking to Henry made her feel particularly eager to tease and joke.

‘Hmm..’tis that I do not have any water balloons laying around, and I have no idea whether I even have such a thing as a garden hose at my disposal. Would a hot inviting shower be okay, however?’

‘YES. Oh yes. Yes please. Can I come over?’

‘Sure thing love.’

Love.

The word had come out of his mouth faster than he could help it. And he was glad she couldn’t see him right now, his face frozen with horror as he realised he just called her “love”, his fingers fumbling to end the call. His sweet neighbour friend. Oh gods. What did he do? And now she was coming over …and..

*knock knock*

He didn’t even think twice about opening the door, his mind still scolding himself for being so forward with Lizz.

It made for the next moment to be even more interesting for the both of them.

‘OH.’ Lizz’s eyes near popped out of their sockets as a very topless Henry swung open his front door.

Henry looked down, realising THAT was probably even worse then calling her “love”, his mouth falling open in a futile attempt to apologise, but failing miserably.

‘I eh..’ He made a face as Lizz started to blush profusely, his eyes now accidentally drifting down her soaking wet, towel clad body. Had she really just walked up to his house in nothing but a towel? Well at least it meant the both of them were complete idiots.

He couldn’t wait for the snarky comments of their other neighbour, Mrs. Gatter.

Noticing his eyes first sliding down her body, then moving towards Mrs. Gatter’s house, made Lizz realise what he was thinking.

‘Oh gods.’ She gasped in horror, looking over her shoulder at the other house, her face becoming even more red.

‘Yes.’ Henry quickly pulled her inside, forgoing all Corona protocol as his hand slipped around her wrist, his other arm quick to close the door behind them.

Suddenly they were very close.

Breath to breath, eye to eye. 

And definitely, definitely not the required 2 meters, Henry’s chest blocking Lizz’s way into the hall.

Stumbling back she crashed against the wall, yelping in surprise as she hit a few photo frames, her body spinning so her hands could quickly steady the frames before they fell off.

And then…it slipped.

Her towel slipped.

Henry stared in quiet awe as the big white towel fell down to the floor, Lizz’s body now stark naked, her skin still glistening and soaped from her unfinished shower.

Milky, soft, luscious. And that tush. Gosh. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t thought of this.

Lizz choked on her thoughts as she looked down at the towel at her feet. Oh no, it wasn’t Mrs. Gatter she had on her mind right now, her doe eyes looking over her shoulder at Henry, his breath now much more heavy than it had been during their entire run this morning.

Now what?

It was a question they both mulled over in their heads, their eyes slowly tracing down each others bodies.

His gym hardened, bulking physique.

Her soft feminine body with its luscious curves.

And then their eyes met, both hesitant, yet unapologetic about their obvious stares. Neither one looking away from the other. 

...

‘Oh fuck it.’ Lizz muttered, deciding upon their faith, her body quick to press against Henry as she reached for him, pulling his face down in an almost aggressive kiss. Henry growled against her lips, immediately agreeing to the turn of events, slipping his hands through her shampoo lathered hair, locking her head just where he wanted it. Close to his lips.

‘Fmmck.’ He muttered under his breath, walking backwards and pulling Lizz with him, her hands now grasping for his biceps and her throaty keens muted by their hungry kisses.

Not breaking away from her once, Henry started to reach for one of the doors further down the hallway, his eyes half hoodedly checking out Lizz as he managed to lure her into his bathroom, his hand flicking the light switch so they wouldn’t stand here in the dark.  

This was too good to be true.

This was too good to be true.

Lizz was the first to pull back, her eyes dark with lust and a breathy grin etched on her face. She wanted to speak, but decided against it, both their chests heaving with excitement.

This was no time to speak.

Oh no.

This was..

Her hand slipped down Henry’s chest, following the happy trail of dark curls that led her down his abs to.. Her hand hesitating before she finally looked down.

Hmm.

Well that answered her question.

Her eyes halted at the very obvious tent in Henry’s shorts, her hand pausing just below his navel. Henry noticed and moved his hand to tilt her face back up at him, looking deep into her eyes.  

‘Lizz..’ He hummed, like her name was some type of enchantment, his fingers delicately tracing down her neck, down her collarbone, near whispering over her breasts.

‘Fuck.’ Lizz cried softly, tilting her head back as his touch was more than just welcome. It was what she craved.

Touch. Sweet, sweet touch.

Henry’s fingertips danced over her skin until they reached her nipples, his thumbs rubbing them to wanton peaks, not long after followed by his mouth as he ducked down, his tongue lavishly twirling over them as his hands became more demanding, groping and moulding her soft flesh.

Lizz tangled her hands in his curly hair and let her lust hazed eyes dance around the room.

White walls and dove grey floor tiles with on one end of the wall a large modern sink with a mirror and at the opposing wall a spacious walk-in shower. Oh mother have mercy. This was…mmm!…

This was too good to be true.

‘Shower?’ Henry breathed, getting up to standing height as he quirked up an eyebrow. Lizz playfully bit her lip and nodded.

‘Hmm.’ Henry moaned as he interlocked his lips with hers again - he was one noisy lover -, his hands now travelling down and, with the greatest ease, lifting up her hips so he could carry the both of them into the shower. Lizz gasped softly - never had a man carried her around like that -, quickly wrapping her legs around his hip to steady herself.

It was in that moment she realised how very clothed he still was down there, the constricting fabric of his shorts rubbing against her sensitive folds. She keened softly as Henry lifted her up even higher, breaking that contact, one of his arms wrapping around her lower back while the other moved to turn on the shower.

She was now placed high enough on his hip so he could kiss down her neck and the top of her chest, suckling the skin there as he waited for the water to slowly heat up, his free hand now squeezing her buttocks. Lizz didn’t know what to do with herself, her need muddling her brain to incoherent thoughts and her mouth to whimpering moans.

Desperately she kept pulling at his soft, slightly sweaty curls, tilting her head back, near floating in the air and giving in to Henry’s sweet administrations.

Sweet administrations that were a stark contrast to his sounds. Raw and animalistic. He’s a growler, Lizz smiled, biting her lip again as Henry’s chest reverberated with another deep moan.

So hot.

Henry nipped a trail back up, breathing hotly in her ear; ’Close your eyes.’

Before Lizz could fully register what he was doing, she felt the back of her head being dipped under the warm stream of the shower, one of Henry’s arms still supporting her lower back, while the other moved to support her head. She jolted in surprise, her hands quick to grasp at his shoulders, her nails leaving tiny crescent shaped marks in his flesh.

Henry chuckled, not in the least bit impressed by her feisty claws.

‘Easy.’ He warned her, allowing Lizz to relax back into his arms, the shampoo in her hair now slowly washing out of her auburn locks.

‘Sorry,’ She squealed, a nervous chuckle bubbling up in her chest.

It wasn’t everyday a man’d pick her up and waltz her into his shower to wash her hair. And sure, Henry LOOKED strong, but Lizz was not yet fully trusting of his capability to keep her up while manoeuvring around in a slippery shower. No amount of superman muscles can win from a poorly placed bit of soap, right?

‘Put..put me down,’ She finally hiccuped, her soft plea nearly drowned out by the falling water. Henry didn’t miss it however, without question putting her down and cupping her cheek again, a concerned look spread across his features.

Gosh, he was way too sweet for her.

‘You okay?’ He asked, gazing into her eyes. Lizz shook her head, unbelieving, a soft chuckle bursting from her lips.

‘Oh Henry.’ She started to laugh harder, looking into his confused puppy eyes.

‘What is it Lizz?’

‘Nothing.’ She sniffled, reaching out for a bottle of shampoo and holding it up in question. ‘You do me, I do you?’

Henry’s worried face broke into a smile, his head now also shaking like Lizz’s did just now.

‘You are one of a kind, foxy.’

‘You betcha.’ Lizz smiled, playfully biting her lip as she started to slather some of the shampoo in his curls. Henry hummed, his eyes closing as Lizz pressed and swirled her fingertips over his scalp, offering him a little head massage, his erection now bobbing restlessly against her belly. Lizz couldn’t help but look down, her mouth slightly watering at the sight of his now completely soaked shorts as they clung to his muscular thighs and…well..a very well endowed manhood.

Without much of a second thought she pushed Henry back underneath the shower head and kneeled down, soft drops falling down her face as she looped her fingers around the waistband of his shorts.

Henry slowly opened his eyes, missing the relaxing head massage he just got, before realising where Lizz had gone.

Down.

His eyes dropped to look at her, his pupils blown out so wide there was no more blue left to be seen, his eyes dark and lust-hazed.

Without needing much of a confirmation, Lizz tugged down his shorts, her face now mere inches away from a very happy-to-see-her member. It twitched slightly as she licked her lips, looking up at him once more before going in for the kill, her lips placing some experimental kisses on his lower belly and thighs before she enclosed them around his engorged member.

‘AAahh..’ Henry let out a breathy moan as he let his head fly back, his hair being rinsed by the water as it fell down from the large shower head. ‘Fuck.’ He muttered, a hand moving to the back of Lizz’s head as she started to suck and bob on him.

‘Fuck..fuck fuck fuck..Lizz..Lizz..stop..’ He pulled her back, his breath irregular and his chest heaving as she released him with a *pop*. She looked back up in question.

‘It’s been a while..I..’ He squeezed his eyes shut as he let out another groan.

‘You okay?’ Lizz asked in turn.

‘Oh Lizz.’ Henry smiled, his breath calming down somewhat. ‘Come. As much fun as this shower is, I..’ He pulled her up with ease, his mouth quick to place another passionate kiss on her lips. ‘..I much prefer to do this..right.’

Right? Wasn’t this right?

Lizz really wasn’t in the mood for slowing things down.

Can you imagine going this far, only to stop because of some unwritten sex protocol?

What did he want?

Wine, dine, date and marriage first?

Fuck no.

Henry chuckled as he saw Lizz’s brows furrow with question.

‘Upstairs.’ He added, nodding his head towards the door.

‘Ah..’ Lizz muttered, feeling stupid for even thinking that Henry was THAT much of a vanilla boy.

Sprawled out on the deep blue sheets, her pale skin and red hair a stark contrast with the fabric, Lizz was an utter, complete mess.

For such a “vanilla” boy, Henry was really..really…really good at giving head. Like…ughh.

Lizz reached down her legs, her fingers tangling with the slightly damp dark curls that belonged to one very hot neighbour.

Henry chuckled, the sound reverberating pleasantly against her folds.

‘Gods Henry.’ She swooned, her back pressing off the bed as an orgasm started to build up.

He hummed again, his hands locking even more tightly around her hipbone, keeping her right where he wanted her as his mouth licked, sucked and teased her with more demand.

‘FUUCKK..Ah..ahh.AH!’ Lizz cried, her legs squeezing tighter around Henry as her orgasm came crashing down on her.  

Slowly.. Henry lapped up her juices, waiting for her hips to still before he pried himself out from in between her legs. A wolfish grin was spread wide across his glistening cheeks.

Okay, time for a correction.

Henry Cavill was NOT a vanilla boy, Lizz thought, pushing her head back into the mattress as she let out a breathy laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ Henry purred, crawling back on top of her, his weight making her shift on the mattress.

‘Oh just that you are one of kind..’ Lizz laughed, opening her eyes and looking back at him. He grinned, then placed a kiss on her swollen lips before pushing himself back off the mattress.

Lizz frowned, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked at his well rounded buttocks walking into the ensuite bathroom.

She heard him rummage around, open some cupboards, groan, walk back in the bedroom, then offer her a most pained look.

‘Ehm…’ He started, not sure what to say - even though his face probably said it all.

‘Oh..is this the point where you admit to not having any condoms around?’ Lizz rolled back on the bed, shaking her head. ‘Cavill Cavill Cavill…’ She tutted, chuckling.

Henry groaned and crawled back on top of her, giving her an exasperated look.

‘Not funny Lizz.’ He growled, sulking for a moment as Lizz started to laugh out loud, eventually cracking Henry’s grumpy facade, a little grin appearing back on his lips.

‘Oh come on..now you’re just…’ Henry rolled his eyes, then decided to go ahead and abuse the situation, his fingers flicking down to tickle her ribs.

‘NO NO NO..Henners. STOP IT. Hahahahaha.’ Lizz squirmed underneath him, her laugh bouncing off the walls as she tried to pry herself out of Henry’s tickle assault.

*WOOF WOOF WOOF*

Apparently Kal hadn’t missed out on the little party his humans were throwing in the bedroom, the large dog calling alarm from the bottom of the stairs.

Henry halted his tickles, smiling boyishly as Lizz finally managed to get her breath back.

‘You!’ Lizz pouted, giving him a playful pat against his pecs.

‘Me.’ Henry smiled, leaning down on his forearms again so he could place a number of sweet kisses on Lizz’s lips.

‘You you you.’ Lizz hummed in between the kisses, smiling against Henry’s lips.

*WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF*

The two of them stopped again for a moment, realising it was probably something else Kal was calling in the alarm for.

Focusing a little better, they heard a car drive down the small road outside, its wheels crunching over the uneven grit.

*HONK HO-OONK HONKHONKHONK*.

Lizz’s face froze over, recognising that specific way of honking far too well.

Oh shit.

Luis.

| Chap 4 >

[particularemu]

Insanity | A Hwang Hyunjin Series | Part 1

Part: [Prologue] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Epilogue]

Word Count: 5046

Type: Angst

Warnings: violence, drugs, descriptions of anxiety, panic disorders, fucked up hospitals, a sassy Jinnie boi, and corruption.

Author’s Note: Without further ado, I present part 1 of Insanity. Please understand that I’m no doctor, and I have 0 medical knowledge, so if I make a mistake, shoot me a message and school me so I can fix it :3 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he stepped off the bus, hand tugging his suitcase behind him. There it was — Rosewood Psychiatric Institution — the medical facility he was going to stay and work in for the next couple of years. Hyunjin would stay longer, but he had strict plans to start his own institution after getting some work experience. Judging by the beautiful landscape — it looked like he picked the right place. 

The land rolled smoothly under the thick, luscious grass, the picture-perfect landscape looking as if it was sculpted by the gods. There were several colorful plants and shrubs along the cobblestone path, leading Hyunjin directly to the gates. After being waved through by a couple of nice-looking guards, Hyunjin made his way over to the living quarters for the staff. Thank goodness the way was pointed by various golden signs, otherwise, he’d surely get lost in the big institution made up of several buildings. 

Hyunjin’s lips parted in surprise as several sprinklers turned on, watering the beautiful lawn for the first time that morning. Wow… they obviously had a passionate landscaper who thrives on taking care of all these plants. It must take the man (or woman) all day to water the plants, cut the grass, and pull each and every weed out of the landscape. 

The institution was incredible. Most mental health facilities he visited during his university years weren’t this large — or as aesthetically pleasing. The boy couldn’t help but gawk at the beautiful architecture. 

Hyunjin cursed as his watch beeped, signaling the start of his shift in the next hour. He opened the door to the living quarters, gasping at the luxurious decor coating the walls. This doctor must make loads of money off this place to be able to afford decor this nice. It was nice to know that Dr. Douglas took care of the staff. Hyunjin quickly made his way over to room 108, grateful that he wouldn’t have to drag his suitcase up 3 flights of stairs. Hyunjin tucked his suitcase under the bed, brows creasing when he saw the pure white uniform laying across his bed. 

Fuck, he hated white. Of course, he expected he’d have to wear the typical white coat, but usually, he was allowed to wear blue scrubs. Why the hell were they forcing the staff to wear some 1950s style uniform? Oh well. Hyunjin changed into the uniform. 

Dr. Douglas must be obsessed with the look of white — Hyunjin assumed because all the rooms were coated with white paint, decorated with white knick-knacks, and beds were made with white sheets and comforters. Hyunjin would have to find a poster or something to go on the wall, or he might have to check himself into the institution. 

Hyunjin rushed out the door, checking to make sure it locked before heading over to the main building. From what he could tell on his map, he would be working in the largest building. Hyunjin headed inside, eyes scanning the room for some sign of where he should go. 

“Hello, how can I help you, sir?” A kind woman dressed in some 1950s looking nurse uniform caught Hyunjin’s attention. 

What is with these old-fashioned uniforms? Maybe they were trying to keep things timeless for those who’ve been in the institution a while? Or perhaps Dr. Douglass just enjoyed vintage things. Either way, Hyunjin thought the uniform choice was odd. Throw some dirt, grime, and blood on them and the uniforms would look like they’re straight from a horror movie.  

“Hi, I’m Dr. Hyunjin. It’s my first day. I’m supposed to start today.” Hyunjin couldn’t help but gawk at how clean everything looked. All hospitals should be clean but this — this institution looked as though it was scrubbed top to bottom with bleach. There was no scuff mark, footprint, or speck of dust in sight. 

“Ah, Dr. Hyunjin welcome.” A kind-looking man on the other side stepped out. “Come on over.” 

Hyunjin squeezed through the door and shook the man’s hand. “Nice to met you Dr?” 

“Dr. Henry.” The man smiled at Hyunjin. “We’ve been understaffed for so long. I’m happy they finally have someone to take over the day shift for Miss ______.” Dr. Henry handed Hyunjin a medical chart packed full of your medical history.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he scanned the papers. Twenty-five sedations? In just over two months? “Umm, excuse me for asking, but why has she been sedated 25 times in the past couple of months?” 

“She is a feisty young thing. If she doesn’t get her way she starts hitting and screaming.” Dr. Henry laughed. “So we typically have to sedate her before she hurts one of the doctors or herself.” 

Hmm… That still doesn’t sound right. Hyunjin brushed it off until he spotted an obvious problem in your chart. “Hey, why is she getting a stimulant?” Hyunjin frowned. 

“What do you mean?” Dr. Henry leaned over Hyunjin’s shoulder to look at your chart. 

Hyunjin pointed to a spot. “It says right here that she’s dealing with intense anxiety, panic attacks, manic, nightmares, and I’m not sure why it says etcetera there, we should be listing all her symptoms.” Hyunjin paused and pointed to another section on her chart. “Then over here, it says she’s taking Adderall — a stimulant.” 

“The doctor prescribed it for her ADHD.” Dr. Henry smiled. 

Hyunjin pursed his lips. The chart claimed that she had no memory of her life before the institution — and there were no notes stating she was diagnosed with ADHD. “We might want to consider taking her off of it. Stimulants can increase panic episodes. If she’s still having intense panic attacks, why are we still giving her Adderall?” Hyunjin pulled a pen out of his breast pocket. “We should remove that from her list.” 

“Don’t do anything yet.” Dr. Henry pat Hyunjin’s shoulder. “The doctor has to approve any prescription changes.” 

Hyunjin cocked his head in confusion. They were all doctors… Why did they need to have medication changes approved? All doctors had the ability to prescribe and change prescriptions. Whatever… Maybe it’s just a safety precaution?

“You guys have her on a steroid too.” Hyunjin pointed at your list of medications once more “Betamethasone? What’s she taking that for?” 

“You know what? I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask the doctor about that.” Dr. Henry smiled. “I only started working with her recently, so I’m not aware of her entire medical history.” 

Okay, is this guy really a doctor? Hyunjin sighed in frustration as he scanned your chart. How could this man be taking care of you, and not even care about your previous medical history? Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was taking over your care. Maybe he could give you a fighting chance.

“Ergotamine? Does she get migraines?”

“I don’t know.” Dr. Henry sighed, crossing his arms in annoyance. 

“The reason I’m asking is Ergotamine contains caffeine. Adding prescriptions full of steroids, stimulants, and caffeine is only going to make her anxiety worse. No wonder she’s having such a hard time.” Hyunjin couldn’t help but glare at the man. 

“Like I said. Take it up with the doctor.” Dr. Henry snapped. “Why isn’t she getting a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor?” Hyunjin was baffled. SSRIs are typically given to patients who suffer from panic attacks. The medication prevents serotonin from being absorbed by the nerve cells in the brain. Stabilizing those serotonin levels reduces anxiety and panic. “She should be taking Prozac or Lexapro,” Hyunjin mumbled as he flipped through your chart. 

Dr. Henry scoffed. “She doesn’t need an SSRI. The doctor doesn’t like prescribing those unless the patient has gone through a successful therapy session.” 

What the fuck equals a successful therapy session? 

Hyunjin flipped through your chart, spotting the therapist’s notes over the past few sessions. Sure enough, panic attacks, anxiety episodes, refusal to cooperate, violence — you had it all. Hyunjin decided that he should sit through one of your therapy sessions to see what might be triggering your panic episodes.

“Okay, then give her a serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor?” Hyunijn sighed in frustration. “Those prevent the absorption of serotonin and norepinephrine. It’ll calm her down in stressful situations.” 

“I know what they do.” Dr. Henry slammed his hand on the counter.

“Okay, then why aren’t you giving her any?” Hyunjin raised his voice as well.

“There aren’t any that are approved by the drug administration jackass.” He scoffed. 

“Yes, there is dumbass.” Hyunjin sighed and slipped your medical chart in his bag. “Venlafaxine. If you don’t have any in this hospital you need to get some.” 

“We have it, but it’s an SSRI.” 

“No, it’s not.” Hyunjin raised his voice and pointed to one of the computers. “It’s an SNRI. Look it up.” He frowned, “Besides, there are so many other options out there for her. You could give her tricyclic antidepressants, monoamine oxidase inhibitors, or beta-blockers instead of letting her suffer.” Hyunjin spat.

“Take it up with the doctor.” The man yelled back in Hyunjin’s face. 

Hyunjin leaned forward, piercing eyes glaring at the other man as he crossed his arms. “Fine, I will.” 

“First, come meet your patient, then you could see if she’s worth the trouble.” Dr. Henry turned and walked down the hall. 

“What?” Hyunjin asked as he followed the man. Everyone is worth the trouble. Even if you were a psycho looking to attack everyone in that hospital, you were a human being. Besides, Hyunjin could imagine you weren’t being treated the best under Dr. Henry’s care — based on the way the asshole was treating him. 

“Here she is pretty boy.” Dr. Henry gestured in the room. 

Hyunjin’s heart broke at the sight. You were huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around yourself as if it was the only comfort you had in this mental institution. Your room was empty, save for a bed and a thin blanket that probably provided little to no warmth. Your arms were filled with scratches, from what he assumed to be your nails — but in this hospital, there was no telling. 

Hyunjin slowly stepped into the room, smiling at you as your big glassy eyes met his. “Hello there,” Hyunjin spoke in a low even voice, hoping to prevent scaring you further. “I’m Dr. Hyunjin, your new caretaker. I’m looking forward to helping you the best I can.”  

You quickly got up and stumbled towards the man, tears running down your cheeks as you frantically clawed at his chest. Hyunjin gasped and wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, heart-shattering when you wrapped your arms around his neck and cried, “Please you have to help me. You have to get me out of here, please.” 

Dr. Henry grabbed your arm and practically threw you across the room. “No touching the doctors. Do you want another session in the lightning room?”

You grabbed the bedpost, body shaking as you cried, “No I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” 

“Hey!” Hyunjin yelled, pushing at Dr. Henry’s shoulders. “That wasn’t necessary, she’s just scared.” He darted to your side, resting his hand on your arm to try and soothe you. You flinched away from his touch, mumbling apologies here and there. “Shh, you did nothing wrong,” Hyunjin whispered. 

“What is the lightning room? Is that electroconvulsive therapy? Do you have the right permits to do that?” To say Hyunjin was concerned was an understatement. 

“Of course.” Dr. Henry scoffed. 

“Why are you using it as a punishment?” Hyunjin raised his brow. “Electroconvulsive therapy is quite beneficial if done right. Do you guys put the patients under with anesthesia?”

Dr. Henry crossed his arms over his chest, eyes filled with pure hatred as he looked at Hyunjin. “No, we mainly use it to get their act straight.” 

“So you’re inducing seizures on your patients to get them to stop rebelling?” Hyunjin scoffed. “Smart.” 

“Look smartass, I’m just doing my job. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the doctor.” Dr. Henry stormed off, leaving Hyunjin alone with you. 

Thank God he’s finally gone. 

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” Hyunjin reached his hand out to you, pausing a safe distance away so he wouldn’t frighten you. “When you feel comfortable, I’m right here.” He held his hand out to you, palm facing up, giving you full control over the situation. 

You turned to look at the beautiful man, noticing the way his eyes lit up when you made eye contact. He sure was gorgeous. Most caretakers wouldn’t have stayed this long, but Hyunjin stayed in front of you, hand out for you to touch when you were ready. You slowly lifted your shaky hand and gently pressed your fingers into his palm, making Hyunjin smile brightly.

“That’s it.” His voice sounded like heaven to your ears. You felt safe in his presence, even more so when he slowly closed his fingers around yours. God, it’s been months since you’ve felt such a comforting touch. “Will you let me check your vitals?”

You cocked your head to the side, confusion evident in your features as Hyunjin chuckled nervously. “Oh sorry, you might not remember. I’m going to check your pulse, your temperature, your respiration rate, and your blood pressure just to make sure everything’s okay. After all, you did get thrown to the ground and since we don’t know what triggers your panic episodes I want to make sure you aren’t experiencing any symptoms of anxiety or panic which could be increased heart rate, temperature and —” Hyunjin paused a second. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I do that a lot. I’ll just check your temperature.” Hyunjin pulled a thermometer out of his bag and placed it in your mouth, hand resting on your forehead for a second to make sure you didn’t feel abnormally warm. 

You found the gentle touch comforting as his hand shifted to rest on the pulse point on your throat. His beautiful lips moved as he counted, eyes fixed on his watch. You couldn’t help but notice the beauty mark underneath his eye. That’s not something you see every day — especially in here. It felt like everyone looked the same — well… from the few people, you’ve seen during your various attempts to escape this godforsaken place. You flinched when Hyunjin pulled out his stethoscope, which didn’t go unnoticed by the ebony-haired beauty. 

“You look like you’re breathing fine.” Hyunjin smiled softly as he shoved the stethoscope back into his bag. “Why don’t we skip that for now.” Hyunjin pulled the thermometer out of your mouth and smiled at the results. “Good. It’s normal.” 

You sighed in relief and pulled your sore body up off the floor, plopping on the bed so you could rest. Hyunjin stood up and scanned your knees, noticing the bruises already starting to form. He couldn’t just sit there and let these damn people hurt you like this. “I have a couple of things I need to talk to your doctor about. Will you be okay here?” Hyunjin smiled when you nodded. “Awesome. I won’t be long.” 

Hyunjin slowly closed the door behind him before rushing down the hallway to Doctor Douglas’s office. He was only here an hour and he feels like he’s starting all sorts of trouble. The hospital was filled with incompetent doctors — or so he assumed judging by the information in your chart. And then there was Dr. Henry… 

Hyunjin nearly opened the door to the doctor’s office when a woman stepped in front of him. “Doctor Douglas is busy now sir. Please come back later.” 

Of fucking course. “I’m so sorry miss.” Hyunjin smiled. “He called me down here, so I thought I’d come right away. It sounded urgent.” 

“Oh, I must be mistaken. Go right ahead.” The woman moved out of the way and sat back down at her desk, obnoxiously typing a response to an email. 

Wait, that actually worked?

Hyunjin quickly slipped into the office before she could see the victorious grin on his face. He frowned when he turned around, spotting Dr. Douglas sitting in his chair, playing a random game on his phone. Yeah, okay he was real busy. 

“Welcome Hyunjin!” Dr. Douglas beamed. “I was hoping you’d make it here okay. I trust the drive up wasn’t too bad?”

“Thank you, sir. The drive was fine.” Hyunjin shook Dr. Douglas’s hand. “Pardon me for intruding, but I have a few questions about my patient.” 

“I expected a few.” Dr. Douglas laughed. “Why don’t you introduce yourself first?” 

Hyunjin ignored Dr. Douglas’s request and pulled out your chart. “After. This is urgent. You have my patient on Adderall, Betamethasone, and Ergotamine, all three are known to have anxiety and panic episodes as a side effect.” Hyunjin paused, wracking his brain for information. “There was this case study a few years ago —” 

“Hyunjin please.” The doctor gestured for him to stop. “Why don’t we get to know each other first?” He chuckled. “I’m Dr. Douglas. I’m sure you know that I run this hospital, considering I was the one who hired you.” 

“Yes,” Hyunjin shook his hand. “But sir, we —” 

“Hyunjin.” 

Hyunjin sighed dramatically, feeling like a two-year-old ready to throw a tantrum. He felt like his childish nature was justified, considering no one in this damn hospital seemed to care about your condition. 

“I’m Dr. Hwang Hyunjin. I was top of my class at Southfield University and I dedicate my time helping my patients.” Hyunjin’s brows creased as he shoved your chart forward. “The one I have now needs help and I need you to approve some things so I can help her.” Hyunjin’s eyes hardened as the Doctor laughed, acting as if none of this was a problem. 

“Prestigious school Mr. Hwang.” Dr. Douglass sighed and looked at your chart. “What do you need approved?” 

“I want to take her off all the excess medication and put her on Prozac. I believe the mixture of Adderall, Betamethasone, and Ergotamine is making things worse for her. She’s already dealing with so much in an unfamiliar place — so let’s put her on Prozac and see if it helps.” 

“And what will Prozac do that Venlafaxine won’t?” Dr. Douglas’s eyes bore into Hyunjin’s, making the boy nervous. 

“E-excuse me?” Hyunjin stuttered. 

“She’s taking Venlafaxine.” 

“Umm, no she isn’t.” Hyunjin panned through her chart and pointed to your list of medications. “She’s getting these six medications, which is way too much for someone without existing health problems.” 

“She’s in a mental facility.” Dr. Douglas chuckled. “They are all to help her.” 

“Yeah? What does this one do?” Hyunjin pointed to a drug on the list. “Peroproxine?”  Hyunjin frowned. “I’ve heard of Proproxen, but that’s an anti-inflammatory drug.” 

“Peroproxine is an anti-anxiety medication.” Dr. Douglas stated as if it was common knowledge. 

Okay, what? Hyunjin couldn’t stop the obvious annoyance taking over his features. He spends a LOT of his free time researching new and existing medications out there. If there was a drug by the name of Peroproxine, he probably would have known about it. “Why haven’t I heard of it?” 

Dr. Douglas laughed. “You’re new in the business son.” Hearing the word ‘son’ come out of that man’s mouth pissed Hyunjin off.  “I’m not your son. Please just approve this so I can help her.” 

“I can’t do that.” Dr. Douglas sighed. “She’s improved drastically since she started taking those medications. I won’t set her back again. It’s just not humane.” He chuckled. 

“Sir, she’s been here six months, and it appears her mental stability has gotten worse. And, Dr. Henry is being violent with her. He threw her to the ground —” 

“Hyunjin enough!” The doctor slammed his hand on the desk, startling the boy. “Give her the medications on her list, or you’re fired.” 

Hyunjin paled — it was clear he crossed a line. 

“I will not have you slandering one of the most trustworthy doctors in this institution. Get back to work.” Dr. Douglas turned in his chair, cutting off the conversation. Hyunjin’s heart dropped as he left the office. 

Sure, he could always quit and work somewhere else that wasn’t fucked up, but he couldn’t leave you. Something told him that you shouldn’t be there — that something else was the problem. He sulked down the hallways until he felt someone grab his arm and pull him into one of the Janitor’s closets. 

The beautiful man flipped the light switch, allowing the dingy old light swinging above their heads to flicker on. So there was a dirty room in the institution. 

Hyunjin scanned the man in front of him, noticing the name tag on his chest that read ‘Minho.’ He could tell Minho worked at the hospital — unless he was a crazy patient who murdered his caretaker and stole the uniform. 

“Look, you’re a very beautiful man, but I have to get back to work,” Hyunjin muttered and tried to push past Minho. 

“What? No, you dumbass.” Minho paused a moment and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows before saying, “But thank you.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and tried to push past Minho once more, only to be shoved back against the brooms and mops hung on the wall. Minho blocked the door with his arm. “I’m trying to help you keep your job because someone is looking to get fired.” 

Hyunjin sighed. “I don’t want to get fired, I just want to help my patient.” 

“I know.” Minho’s mood shifted — a melancholy look replacing his once emotionless expression. “Just listen for a second.” 

Hyunjin nodded and leaned back against the wall. “Ok fine, you have five minutes.” 

“First of all, I’m older than you so you can fuck off with that attitude.” Minho snapped. “Second of all, you need to stop asking questions.” Minho paused, trying to figure out how to word his next sentence. “Just keep your head down and do your job.” 

“How do you know I’m not older?” Hyunjin snickered. 

“Dude really?” Minho sighed. “You look fifteen. Out of all that I said, that’s what you decided to comment on?” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but chuckle at the older boy’s expression. “Look, I’d be happy to keep my head down if my patient wasn’t suffering.” 

“I know.” Minho paused. “But this hospital isn’t like the others. You have to keep your head down or you’ll be admitted.” 

“What?” Admitted to the hospital? That doesn’t make any sense…

A loud scream echoed through the hallway, frightening the two boys. “Fuck… That sounds like it’s coming from my patient’s room. Here take this, it’s her medication. Please tell her to take it.” Minho opened the door and rushed down the hall. 

Hyunjin stepped out of the closet and stared at the little plastic cup in his hands. From what he could tell, he had two options. One, he could give you the medicine, keep his job, and allow your mental health to deteriorate until you were clinically insane. Or two, he could simply dispose of the medication and see if you improve. His feet took him to your room, figuring it’d be best to give you the medicine for now and speak to Minho later. Perhaps the older boy could give him more information about you.

From what everyone has told him, you were a pain in the ass to deal with. Hyunjin just saw a girl who was confused and scared. He couldn’t imagine you being violent and deliberately trying to hurt someone. 

Hyunjin opened the door, smiling sadly when he saw you curled up underneath the thin blanket. “Hey, it’s time for your medicine.” 

“Don’t want it.” You mumbled into the blankets, turning your back to Hyunjin. 

“I don’t blame you...” Hyunjin trailed off.

You turned to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. Usually, the caretakers would hold you down and force the pills down your throat. They didn’t have any mercy at this hospital — they’d do whatever it takes to get you to take your pills.  

Hyunjin chuckled at your surprise and slid the pills into his bag. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” 

There was something about that smile of his that made you feel like you could trust him. Hyunjin wasn’t forcing you to take anything, he seemed genuinely concerned for your mental health, and he was treating you like a real human being. 

“Can I sit next to you?” His soft voice shook you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah.” You sat up in bed, giving him space to sit beside you. 

Hyunjin stayed silent, trying to think of questions he could ask you. He needed to know more about your medication and how you feel after taking them, but he didn’t want to trigger any painful memories. “Do you feel anxious after you take the medication?”

You thought about it for a minute before nodding. “It comes out of nowhere. I’m usually fine until I have to take my medicine during the day.” 

Okay, so the medication is definitely giving you anxiety. Was it the mixture of Adderall, Betamethasone, and Ergotamine, or was it that new drug… Peroproxine?

“Are you feeling anxious right now?” Hyunjin asked in a low voice. 

You nodded before mumbling. “A little bit. I don’t know you very well.” 

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself.” Hyunjin chuckled. “Would you like me to tell you a bit about myself?”

You nod, noticing the way Hyunjin smiled at your answer. 

“Well, I’m Dr. Hwang Hyunjin. I graduated at the top of my class from Southfield University.” He paused. “My father committed suicide when I was young, so I decided that I was going to study psychology so I could help people struggling with depression. Then I discovered that the medical side of psych would give me the ability to prescribe and help those at a medical level.” Hyunjin chuckled nervously. “You probably don’t want to know about all that though.” 

“No, I don’t mind.” You smiled. “I hear about how crazy I am day-in and day-out, so it’s refreshing to hear about someone else.” 

Hyunjin frowned. “Do they not give you time to socialize?”

You tucked your hands underneath your thighs, “Well, I get to talk to my therapist. The caretakers don’t like us to socialize with other patients. They said that we could get crazy ideas or something.” You frowned. “I don’t really remember.” 

“That’s not normally how things work.” Hyunjin pursed his lips. 

“Yeah?” You cocked your head to the side. “How do they normally work?”

“Typically you live in a room with a roommate — someone with a similar mental illness...” Hyunjin trailed off. “But you’d also have meals with the other patients and usually there’s a rec room where you guys can play games and chat.” 

You bounced on the bed, eyes filling with excitement as you grabbed Hyunjin’s arm. “We have the gardens!” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile at your excitement. “The gardens?” 

“The doctor likes pretty things, so he has a big garden in the back of the asylum filled with all sorts of flowers. He has some exotic ones in there that smell really good.” You smiled brightly. “I like to go see the pretty flowers, but we aren’t allowed without our caretakers. Dr. Henry would never go with me.” 

So Dr. Henry was your old caretaker... Why did that asshole lie about not knowing your information? He’ll have to look into that later. 

“I’ll take you to the gardens as often as you want. I love to look at flowers.” Hyunjin smiled. “Actually do you want to go now?”

You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I’m feeling tired. I want to sleep.” 

“That’s fair. You’ve had a big day so far.” Hyunjin smiled. “Can you answer one more question for me?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips when you saw Hyunjin’s boyish grin. 

“Thank you. You’re such a big help.” Hyunjin rested his hand on yours. “Do you remember how you got here?” 

You closed your eyes, thinking about it for a moment. This was the question you’ve been asked every single day over the past six months. You never had an answer. Your brain only showed you flashes of a van and your cries for help, but the whole memory was foggy and unclear. 

Hyunjin paled when he felt your hand shake underneath his. “Hey, hey it’s okay.” He rubbed soothing circles on your back, smiling when you opened your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry I don’t remember.” You panicked, tears running down your face. “Please don’t tell them I’m not cooperating. I’m trying my hardest.” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Hyunjin’s eyes widened when you crawled into his lap, head resting on his chest as you sobbed.  His heart completely shattered with every tear that ran down your face. 

He couldn’t imagine being in your position. Everyone at the hospital sucks, you weren’t allowed to talk to anyone, you were being given horrible medication, and to top it off, you had no one you could trust. Hyunjin felt honored that you trusted him enough to be this close to him on the first day.

“Your missing memories aren’t your fault.” Hyunjin ran his fingers through your hair, noticing the way you melted into his touch. “Some stressful experiences are so traumatic, the memories hide in the back of your brain like a shadow. So they can’t be consciously accessed. There are exercises and treatments we could do to retrieve those memories, but for now, I think it’s best that we get to know each other a bit more.” 

“I don’t feel safe here.” You sniffled and nuzzled into his chest. 

“You shouldn’t.” Hyunjin rubbed your arm, brows creasing as he tried to figure out his next move. 

The door slammed open— the loud noise startling the two of you as Minho ran into the room. 

“Hyunjin! There’s an emergency. I need your help.”

[mwolf0epsilon]

Can you write a short dark fic for the pairing Joey x Henry, where after Henry threatens to leave the studio, Joey snaps and kidnaps Henry and turns Henry into a perfect Boris or Bendy so that Henry would never leave his side, please?

Summary: Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obcession.

---

[[MORE]]

When brought into the world children were never inherently cruel. They were curious and blunt, which often resulted in uncomfortable situations for those they interacted with, but overall younglings were empathetic at heart until reshaped and redefined into something otherwise.

The world was a terrible influence after all, and it could marr even the purest of things.

There were exceptions to this rule however…

Joey Drew had certainly been a curious kid. Unabashedly blunt too, with how often his innocent words cut deep into both his parents and peers.

But not once did he empathise enough with others to be considered a kind child.

If anything, most others his age had steered clear from his company, finding the mellow kid with the great big toothy smile to be unsettling on an instinctive level. Children were, after all, capable of sensing evil. Even in its stages of infancy.

So imagine everyone's surprise (Joey's included) when Henry Stein decided to befriend the town's most infamous little black sheep.

Kind bleeding heart that he was, Henry had thought it unfair that others would judge another as strongly as they judged Joey, so he'd taken it upon himself to make the kid next door's life a little less lonesome.

Give him what he surely needed: A good and caring friend.

Needless to say, he regretted that decision more than anything in the world...

It hadn't always been so bad. Once Joey had actually been a friend to him, and cared enough to look after Henry when he'd most needed.

Now however? Now Henry could barely recognize the monster behind that unnerving grin...

The burning selfish desires in those sapphire blues, hidden behind an half-lidded expression that was reserved to feign a serene and caring persona…

As charming and handsome as Joey looked (because he'd always been unnaturally pretty, even when going through the awkward stages of puberty), Henry couldn't help find his apathetic and selfish nature abominably hideous.

Especially now as he brought him the results of yet another failed experiment.

"I'm getting closer dear friend." He held the snapping, snarling little beast at arm's length, this failed mockery of Edgar barely looking like the adorable cartoon spider he was meant to be. "Soon I'll be able to make you perfect, and then we'll be back together as the dynamic duo we always were..."

Henry shuddered at the thought, tightly curling in on himself as he watched Joey end the poor creature's miserable existence. His bowl where his meals were served clattering loudly, as the inky heart of the slain critter was tossed onto it with precision. A mimicry of flesh thumping against the metal with a wet splat.

He fought back the urge to cry as he felt his mouth water.

"Eat up my loyal wolf… We can't be wasteful." Joey's cruel smile almost ruined his appetite. Almost. "Don't worry, this wasn't anyone you knew…"

With that said, Joey left him to greedily consume the offering.

Looking in the bowl's reflective surface once he'd licked it clean, Henry found that he could barely recognize himself anymore.

His stretched out face progressively becoming less and less humanoid as he was fed the experimental failures of Joey's horrid machine, and his pale hair having long since turned black and begun to spread.

He looked like what one would envision Boris the Wolf to look like in some lovecraftian fever dream. Dressed in ill-fitting ripped clothing, and barely able to balance a pair of cracked glasses on the bridge of his elongated nose.

An inhuman beast that fed off of the misfortune of others, losing his humanity as time passed on by.

He wondered if he'd forget himself eventually. If he'd forget that the devil in disguise that was Joey Drew was to blame for his malformations.

If one day he'd actually grow to love his captor in the same manner that Stolkholm syndrome victims tended to do, once brainwashed into submission by their abusers?

Another shudder forced a garbled whimper out of his deformed face.

To whatever god that could hear his broken pleas, he sure hoped not.

Henry didn't want to give Joey what he wanted.

Not when that monster of a man had taken him away from his family to keep as some sort of freak show pet.

Playing some sick version of house with the "puppy" he sustained on a cannibalistic diet. Disgusting.

Curling up, Henry cried himself to sleep. Thinking of his wife and children.

Missing them terribly while locked up in the bowels of Joey's demented studio.

-

The Ink Demon wasn't bad company, Henry had found. It seemed to understand his pain on a level no other creature did, offering him what little compassion it could whenever Joey dropped by with more "food".

It feared and loathed that devil of a man just as much as Henry did, and it knew to be kind despite never once being treated with the same sort of respect.

The one positive of this odd kinship between the two, was that Joey seemed pleased by them forming the sort of bond Bendy and Boris had. Thus never getting in between their interactions.

"One day soon, it'll all be just as I envisioned." He'd purr as he pinned the bound inky wolf to the ground, touching Henry in a way that made him want to gag, and rip the rat bastard's throat out with his horrific set of doggish teeth. "Just a little more and you'll be perfect."

He didn't want to be perfect.

All Henry wanted was to kill Joey Drew and go home.

"But first, I have a surprise for you." A surprise that came right after this twisted display of "affection". This gross invasion of the abominable wolf's personal bubble.

Joey presented him with an absolutely Perfect Boris.

Overalls, pie cut eyes, soft velvety fuzz and all… no signs of dripping or asymmetrical proportions.

The terror in those eyes however… it was all too human.

"I told you I'd find a way to reach perfection. Once I've finished tweaking the process you'll be just as perfect as him… Maybe more." Joey purred. "I miss your voice after all, dearest friend. Until then I give you this fearful pup to do with as you wish."

Upon his tormentor's departure, the cartoon wolf scrambled away from Henry. Shaking like a leaf and whining pitifully.

A child, Joey had converted a child…

Hell hath no fury like the righteous rage of a scorned father.

That bastard would pay for all he'd done!

But first, the large and deformed beast that was Henry Stein carefully scooted over to the shaking Boris clone and comforted him as best he could.

He'd protect this poor pup, no matter what.

The Ink Demon seemed to be in favour of extending that same grace, although it did still go for the kill when the less than agreeable ink monsters came around looking for trouble.

-

Buddy's transformation had certainly enraged him when Joey presented the poor boy to him. Sammy's and Norman's fates however were the last straw to break the camel's back.

Most of the people that worked at the studio were strangers to Henry, but the young musician and the oddball projectionist had been friends to him.

With every stranger's heart he consumed, the large beast of a wolf grew more and more restless. The revulsion he felt when looking upon Joey growing into an all consuming desire to violently murder his captor.

When a faceless ink creature wearing only suspenders and a Bendy mask came in one day to bring him his meal however…

"My lord wishes me to feed you, oh Great Lupine... Abyssal Hunger of the Ink's Abyss…" The body shape wasn't one he recognized. The slight arch to the creature's legs a bit strange to look at, and the four fingered hands an indication that something strange had definitely come to pass in this poor madman's transition into his current state. But that voice…

"Shhh...Shhaaammiieeee…?" His voice had returned as a dissonant mess, one that was not fit for a gross mockery of a muzzle like his own.

"Is… Is that my name, oh Hungry One?" There was both fear and hope in his voice. That in itself made something twinge painfully in Henry's chest. "I… Yes, yes that is my name isn't it? Sammy… I… oh thank you kindly, Benevolent Wolf. Please, feast upon your meal. I have worked hard to acquire it in the name of our Lord, your most wonderous companion."

What had Joey done to Sammy Lawrence, the proud music director that had more than half the mind this mindless drone had? Good heavens, what had he done that completely broke the poor kid?!

Rather than voice his horror, Henry did as he was told. After all the more he ate, the more his gluttonous appetite grew… as did this horrid body he was stuck with.

Abyssal hunger indeed…

He forgot what shame tasted like, but not mercy.

As selfish as it may be, he did request one thing.

"It is as you wish, oh Hungry One… I shall protect all pups that enter my lair." The Prophet bowed once, twice and then trice as he took Buddy by the hand. "Another horror skulks in the darkness, wearing an Angel's face. She hunts wolves, for fun. I shall show them your mercy."

He trusted that Sammy would keep his word. He was as stubborn as they could get, after all, and did not back off from a challenge very easily.

Henry would miss Buddy's company though.

That particular encounter was bad on a moral level, but it did turn out alright in the end. When the Projectionist was presented to him as a play thing however, Henry had begun to crack. No one deserves such a horrible fate as to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Norman had once carried a world of unimaginable knowledge on his back.

Now he only had the painful weight of a projector on his neck, and the volatile temper of a mindless beast.

The deformed wolf had done his best to gain the creature's trust, but it feared being attacked far too much to let a nearly 20 foot inky monstrosity near itself.

Self preservation hadn't completely left the Projectionist it seemed.

He'd let it go, hoping doing so would be a sign of good will on its own.

And then when he'd been once again left alone, Henry continued to stew in his anger. Talked himself into showing a rarer more violent side on Joey's next visit.

Even tried to fight back against him the next when he tried to touch him.

This was a losing battle however… After all, Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obsessions.

Henry Stein just so happened to be his biggest obsession. Even as this horrifically imperfect monster that only an equally horrific demon could ever hope to understand.

[marksburyscripts]

Season 1, Episode 5-- Heartwrench

Google Doc

[Henry’s hospital room. Day. There are no longer the sounds of life support.]

VICTOR

...You’re sure it’s okay?

HENRY

Yeah, it’s fine. Whatever helps. Record away.

VICTOR

All right. Thanks.

HENRY

...You don’t have to be nervous, you know.

VICTOR

I’m not.

HENRY

Then why are you doing that?

VICTOR

Doing what?

HENRY

You’re clenching and releasing your hand, and you’re rocking a bit in your chair. Both of which you do when you’re nervous. Seriously, how long have I known you? [Beat.] No, you don’t have to stop.

VICTOR

Oh thank God. [Beat.] ...How’re you feeling?

HENRY

Like I’ve been in a coma for the better part of a year. But lucid, so that’s an improvement, I guess.

VICTOR

Right. Right, yeah.

HENRY

...You know we’ve gotta talk about this, right?

VICTOR

Henry, shouldn’t we wait until you’re--

HENRY

No. We’re doing it now. While you’re recording. ...Victor, please tell me that I’m remembering wrong. Please tell me that I’ve just got some real bad brain damage and it’s fucking with me. That I didn’t walk in on some… first attempt at reanimating a fucking corpse.

VICTOR

[Mumbled] Second.

HENRY

Excuse me?

VICTOR

It was a second attempt, I’d done it before.

HENRY

Jesus Christ.

VICTOR

Also it’s not technically reanimation. If it had been a single body, sure, but I used materials from several donors--

HENRY

What the hell is wrong with you? In what fantasy could you ever see that turning out well? That’s the kind of shit that horror movies are made from!

VICTOR

I’m sorry, I--

HENRY

You were stupid! You were stupid, and reckless, and you didn’t think about the consequences!

VICTOR

I know, I just--

HENRY

Oh my God, that’s what the fire was about, wasn’t it? That had something to do with it. You freaked out, and you tried to burn the evidence. So what, you figured you’d risk more lives then, too? What if there had been people in there, Victor, what then?! Is that what attacked me? And did-- Did Justine really kill your brother? Or was that part of it, too? You have people’s lives on your conscience, all because you wanted to fuck around and find out if you could--

VICTOR

I just wanted my mom back, okay?! I know I fucked up. Believe me, I don’t need any more reminders. But I-- I had my reasons, it wasn’t just some ego trip.

HENRY

[Calmer now] ...Does Elliot know?

VICTOR

I’m sure he figured it out, yeah.

HENRY

What’s that supposed to mean?

VICTOR

Oh. Oh God, they didn’t tell you.

HENRY

Tell me what?

VICTOR

...Henry, Elliot’s dead.

HENRY

Oh God. God, I…. I’m so sorry, I…. How’s your dad taking it?

VICTOR

Well, considering he died two days later, I’d say not very well.

HENRY

What?

VICTOR

[Getting more and more distraught] He’s dead too, Henry. Him, Elliot, my mother, Billy, Justine. Everyone is dead, and I have been so alone and so scared, and I have no idea what I am supposed to do.

HENRY

...Hey. C’mere. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m just stressed, I shouldn’t have said all that shit.

VICTOR

You have every right to.

HENRY

No, being a dick won’t fix anything. Plus, you’ve obviously been through hell. Your glasses look like you were just at a 4Chan meetup.

VICTOR

[Laughs] I don’t know what that means.

HENRY

It means you need to get some damn lens cleaner, how the hell can you see out of those thing?

VICTOR

Just used to it, I suppose.

HENRY

You hear from Evelynn at all?

VICTOR

Take a guess.

HENRY

That’ll be a no. You try talking to her?

VICTOR

Of course not.

HENRY

...So you’re upset that you’ve been alone, yet you haven’t even tried to get in contact with your sister?

VICTOR

Look, I don’t need a lecture right now, okay? I get enough of those from Dr Walton.

HENRY

Wait, you’re seeing Dr Walton? Like, Robert Walton? Kinda short, always has a bow tie?

VICTOR

Yeah…? Do you know him, or…?

HENRY

Sort of, he was a guest speaker for my Abnormal Psych class during undergrad. He seems good.

VICTOR

Yeah, I suppose.

HENRY

How much you tell him?

VICTOR

I’m not sure I could tell him what happened even if I wanted to.

HENRY

...What happens when you try?

VICTOR

Don’t. Don’t do that.

HENRY

Do what?

VICTOR

That. You’re trying to… diagnose me.

HENRY

No, you’re my friend and I don’t have a license to practice. That’s illegal. I’m… offering informed advice.

VICTOR

Yeah, well, I’ll save you the trouble. Clinical depression, post traumatic stress disorder, and paranoid personality disorder. Though that last one is debatable. I might be missing some. Come back when you finish your Ph.D, Clerval.

HENRY

[Softly] Jesus…. [Trying to lighten the mood now] Doing it then it would be even more illegal. Then we’ll have two criminals here. [Beat.] Sorry. That wasn’t as funny as I expected it to be.

VICTOR

No. No, it’s fine. You’re not wrong. [Laughs] Should’ve seen what it was like trying to find a job with an arson charge. I’m lucky I managed to get the one I have.

HENRY

Yeah? What job’s that?

VICTOR

I’m over at Harris’ down on Main Street.

HENRY

Holy shit. The great Victor Frankenstein, the mad genius, the Prometheus of the 21st century, is selling discount hardware.

VICTOR

Well, I don’t actually sell anything most of the time. I’m customer service. Mostly returns, taking phone calls, fun stuff like that.

HENRY

You’re fucking with me. You hate talking on the phone.

VICTOR

And I hate my job. But if they’re willing to give a felon minimum wage, who am I to argue?

HENRY

Hey man, whatever works. I do have one more question, though. 

VICTOR

Okay?

HENRY

Is that the hoodie I lent you that day?

VICTOR 

Oh, um, right, yeah. I-- I was going to give it back, but then you-- You know, and then I was just so distracted, between worrying about you and the police hounding me--

HENRY

Hold on, police?

VICTOR

Oh. Right. They, um… They thought that I did it for a while. Elliot, too.

HENRY

Oh God. 

VICTOR

I mean, I can't blame them. I've got a record, and that's a lot of people close to me who--

[The door opens. Both men are silent for a moment.]

HENRY

Hello…?

VICTOR

Sorry. That’s probably me.

HENRY

What?

VICTOR

Things have been… weird. It’s a long story.

HENRY

You built a person out of corpses, and I’m bedridden for who knows how long. I’ve got all the time in the world for the details.

VICTOR

...Ever since I…. Ever since the fire, things have been… happening around me. I know how this is going to sound, but you need to believe me, okay? Ever since I… made it… it’s like…. I don’t know. It doesn’t even really make sense, I-- The two concepts aren’t even remotely similar, I--

HENRY

Hey. Hey, breathe for me, okay? 

VICTOR

Okay. Okay, sorry. ...That was the first night that I experienced something that I was unable to explain. Granted, I wasn’t exactly in the best mental state at the time, so for a while, I figured that it must have been a hallucination. I’ll be honest, sometimes I’m still able to convince myself that it was. But I know it’s not. 

VICTOR (Cont.)

Sorry. Sorry, let me back up. [Sighs] The… first signs of life came at 1:15 AM. The rise and fall of the chest, the flicker of movement behind the eyelids. Whether or not there was cognitive function had yet to be seen, but… I suppose you know how that turned out. It was at 1:16 that everything started to go downhill. When I realized what I’d done, when-- when the possible consequences hit me all at once. The wrongness of the situation, I…. I almost didn’t hear it. Or-- No. No, I didn’t hear it so much as I felt it. I felt a voice throughout my body, in every single nerve, clawing its way into my subconscious. I-- I couldn’t make out what it was saying, but… I got the sickening feeling that it was proud of me. Proud of what I’d managed to achieve. Whether or not anything happened for the couple months that I was in the hospital afterwards, I can’t really say. I was in shock, I couldn’t tell you what was real and what was hallucination. Honestly, you’d probably be better at figuring out if anything odd was happening during that time, you were there. But what I can tell you is that it never stopped. Sometimes the TV would turn on in the middle of the night blasting static, a couple times I woke up in the morning to find my glasses outside on the windowsill. Then there are the more… sinister ones. Beings that aren’t quite human, there one moment, gone the next. Or sinking, terrifying senses of dread that lead up to disaster.

HENRY

So… you’re seeing ghosts?

VICTOR

No, obviously not ghosts, ghosts don’t exist. Jeeze, you sound like Elliot. [He laughs, but it fades]  ...Not ghosts. But… something. Something that found me that night and hasn’t left me alone since. It’s all connected, I know it is. I just need to analyze everything. You know me, I work with data and research. If I can get the evidence, I can work out what’s going on. I even ended up setting cameras up in my house, but… they always freeze up whenever something happens. Typical. Either that or-- Or I don’t even have it happen myself, sometimes it’s other people who--

HENRY

Wait. Other people?

VICTOR

Yes. But it’s not like I want it to happen, it just does. I usually don’t even know them. I just… hear about them on the news, or sometimes they tell me themselves if I happen to run into them.

HENRY

...And strangers just tell you about all the creepy shit that happens to them?

VICTOR

...Sometimes, yeah.

HENRY

...You know what, I’m not going to even pretend to be surprised.

VICTOR

Honestly, that’s how I deal with it. So yeah. There you go. Spooky.

HENRY

...Do people get hurt because of it? [Victor doesn’t answer] Shit…. Well then. That settles it. I guess we’ve got work to do.

VICTOR

What?

HENRY

I said, we’ve got work to do. Maybe you’re content wallowing in self-pity while creepy shit radiates off of you, but I sure as hell won’t sit on my ass as it happens.

VICTOR

Henry--

HENRY

I know what you’re doing. You’re treating it like some punishment. Like you deserve it. Well, I’m here to tell you that you don’t. And neither does anyone else. You fucked up, yeah. And I’m not going to lie, it’s going to take some time for us to get back to the way we were. But it’s like you said. You had your reasons. You didn’t mean for it all to go to hell. And you didn’t kill them. So you and me are going to buck up and--

[He is cut off by a sound of pain as he moves]

VICTOR

Hey, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. We'll figure it out. We have time to plan, take action, whatever we need to do. But right now, what you need to do is rest. I'll wash the hoodie and bring it back first thing tomorrow. 

HENRY

Nah, you keep it. It suits you, I can always get another. Plus, who the hell knows where you've been the past year? 

VICTOR 

[He laughs. This time it feels genuine] Asshole.

NEXT EPISODE➝

[thenightgazer]

A Dead Body Revenges No Injuries

It should’ve been another good time for Vergil and Lyra to read some books at The Literarium, but one of the guests is suddenly dead. The devil and the librarian must team up to find the truth, since the dead can’t tell tales and its body can’t revenge the injustice.

“He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.”

-Sigmund Freud

--

Someone’s dead, and it wasn’t Vergil’s fault.

It’s Spring. It should’ve been the season of rebirth. It should’ve been a divine moment to be cherished, when the embroidery of colourful plants and calming breeze comes to life again. Everything blooms after enduring from winter for so long. A new beginning has come.

It was meant to be beautiful.

Everyone who strives after gain in the perishable world will necessarily come to regret it, at the time of separation and the moment of non-being.

The line from The Epistle of Forgiveness sums everything he had gained from his pursuit of power and it craved agonizingly in his heart. Weeks after learning and contemplating about what it means to forgive himself, Vergil finished his reading of the eschatological literature book and now it’s safely stored in his private bookshelf at his bedroom. It relieves him how easy to let go of his nightmares and it gives him a better sleep without the fear of any illusion anymore.

I’m intrigued by what a book and a little of miracle can do to a sinner like me.

It’s hard for him to think about book and miracle without thinking about Lyra.

Like a carousel, the thought about the witty librarian spins around Vergil’s head and that annoy him in the most unique way. He should’ve hate it, for that makes him oftenly distracted. If his head was a mind palace, Lyra would be the random variable that always pop out from nowhere in every thought that Vergil tried to focus on.

Yet he chooses to be here now—sitting on his usual corner at The Literarium and reading Lyra’s another recommendation; Beowulf. That remind him of the demon he once fought years ago with the same name. Such a disgrace for this masterpiece became the name of a filthy demon, he thinks. Beowulf was on Vergil’s reading list since he was a boy, but he never had a chance to fulfill his list until now. There’s a gleeful sensation everytime he reads the passages, feeling his inner child deep down inside him exclaiming in victory.

The hybrid glances at the woman who sits across him. Vergil has recommended Lyra to read The Turn of The Screw, since she’s fond of horror and mystery. He marginally surprises that there’s still people who hasn’t read this illustrious work of Henry James, even the bookish Lyra. The librarian’s eyes scan through the page seriously, examining every words. She has been quiet since 20 minutes ago without moving or even glancing at anything.

This view isn’t too bad, Vergil quietly grins.

He turns his focus back at his reading.

Beowulf is the oldest and longest epic poem with more 3000 lines long, written by an anonymous in Old English. Nobody knows for certain when the poem was first composed, but some scholars have suggested that the manuscript was made in the early 11th century, which makes the manuscript approximately 1000 years old. It exploits the tale of Beowulf and his battles with a monster and a dragon which was guarding a hoard of treasure. Basically a poem of hero who seeks for glory, Lyra said to him. That confuses him since Vergil doesn’t want to seek any glory at all, yet the librarian picked the book for him.

“I once defeated a demon named Beowulf,” Vergil says. “It was too easy.”

Lyra nods slowly without breaking her gaze from the book, “When?”

“Years ago, when I raised Temen-ni-gru. It was one of the demons that guarded the tower.”

“Uh-uh…” Lyra nods again. “Was the demon… look heroic like the fictional Beowulf?”

“Not at all. Too noisy. But I acquired a strong Devil Arm from its corpse. It wasn’t in my possession again since I jumped to Underworld.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Lyra mutters, “Oh, sad.”

Vergil holds himself to not rip off the book that steal the focus of his dear friend by bringing his cup to the receptionist table to refill his coffee. Since the end of winter, Mr Steiner gave a new instruction for the guest to refill their own cup at the receptionist table. We don’t want to intrude the guests when they read. Privacy matters, Lyra said. Though Vergil can’t comprehend why Mr Steiner didn’t give that policy since the first time he decided to serve free coffee. He nods to Nate, who gives him a friendly wave behind the table as he speaks on his phone. Vergil doesn’t have many interactions with him, but he tolerates Nate’s existence since the young man never get Vergil on his nerves.

When Vergil turns his back after get his refill, he almost bumps to two women who just entered the library.

“Sorry!” a woman in floral dress cheerfully apologises to him without giving Vergil a chance to reply. The other one who wears white dress and looks fragile smiles at him as an apology. They immediately join a blonde woman who sits at the Fiction reading section. They greet and hug each other like old friends, then starts chattering. The hybrid rolls his eyes at that sight and continue to walks to his corner, only to find that Lyra still fixates on her book.

I’m literally going to rip off that damn book.

“These people…” she murmurs suddenly.

“?”

“… are idiot.”

What?

“Why do they always following and calling the ghost around?” Lyra complains. “Like, I don’t get why people shout ‘Hello?’ everytime they see something.”

“Curiousity can be infuriating sometimes.” Vergil silently grins while opening the pages Beowulf again. He peeks over his book to see Lyra’s reaction—she glares at him like she realizes Vergil is being sarcastic to her own habit of curiousity.

They continue to read in peace. The doorbell rings, a sign that there’s another guest entering the library. When Vergil hears giggles and babbles from the women at Fiction, he knows that the new guest is their friend. Their steps are a little bit too loud for his enhanced ears, but thankfully it’s soon over as the women go to take their seats and lower their voices.

Once again, all is well, at least for the next five minutes.

Because now Vergil catches coughing sound from the Fiction section.

The sound is getting worse until Vergil has to look up to see who interferes his seclusion. It’s the same floral-dressed woman who apologised to him earlier. The woman excuses herself to the toilet. Even with Vergil’s enhanced senses, he can hear the cough turns into vomit.

“You might want to ask your customer if she’s alright,” Vergil grumbles.

Lyra put down her book and glances at the toilet, “I should never let Nate to brew the coffee again.”

She leaves her chair as the woman comes out from the toilet, still coughing. Her breath is rougher as she grabs her chest hard, like she’s suffocating.

“Clarissa? What happened?” the blonde woman approaches her and tries to lead her back to her seat.

“I’ll get water.” Lyra hurries herself to the office after exchanging words with Nate to look after the woman, Clarissa.

“Is she alright?” Nate asks panicly after spotting rashes on Clarissa’s skin.

“Of course she’s not!”

“Did she eat something weird before she came here?”

“Do I look like I know?!”

But Clarissa never make it to her seat. She collapses.

The scream gets louder as Vergil immediately stands up to approach the crowd. The woman’s friends are too scared to even touch their poor friend. Clarissa’s face turns blue as her body convules greatly.

Cardiac arrest?

There’s a sound of broken cup. “Clarissa!!”

Before everyone could even make any movement, the tremble stops. The woman’s eyes dilate before it stops moving again.

Vergil can sense the life is leaving her body.

“OH GOD WHAT’S HAPPENING?”

“Someone help her please!”

“Call the cop! Now!”

Police?

But Vergil’s suspicion elapses as he spots Lyra.

In the middle of the tragedy, tears, screams and panic, he watches Lyra who’s standing not too far from the crowd. She brings a glass of water on her right hand, yet something’s off.

The hybrid’s direct experience with human emotions might not quite much, but he knows something about human emotion in hysteria. These people are in panic situation, they’re all consume with sadness and can’t even think clearly. All those emotions can affect human’s body. Panic can cause tremor to their body. Sadness can cause their tears stream down on their faces. Disgust and disbelief can make them feel nauseous.

But the librarian stands still. The hysteria affects nothing to her. The water in the glass doesn’t move, not in the slightest.

For a human, her calmness on this situation is… disturbing.

Vergil tries to deny the chill in his spine when he brushes off Lyra’s emotionless reaction from his head.

--

The ambulance and police are already in the library. Nate flips the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Close’. The library is supposed to be a peaceful palace, but today it turns to be a nightmare for him. He has been a librarian in The Literarium for years, but he never imagined that someday he’ll see a guest die in front of him. This is shocking, of course. They’re already send Clarissa’s corpse to the morgue to be examined. Polices are busy doing investigation and asking witnesses. This fuss makes Nate almost having a nervous breakdown.

“Hey, Lyra,” he calls Lyra who’s standing beside him. “What did the cop ask you?”

She shrugs, “Standard things like where was I when it happened, how was the victim’s state before she collapsed.”

“They asked me the same thing. Man, I feel like we’re in some kinda crime movies.”

“Ah, they also asked me who made the coffee.”

“What?”

“I said it was you. Didn’t they ask you about the coffee?”

“Not a word! God, they’ll suspect me!”

“Relax, Nate. We drank from the same coffee pot and we’re alive. If there’s someone to blame, it must be her friends.”

Nate lets out a relief sigh, “You’re right. Anyway, is it okay with your friend? He looks like he will kill the cop who interrogates him.”

“To be fair, he always look like he wants to kill someone.”

“Yeah that. To be honest, your boyfriend scares the hell out of me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No shit!”

“What?”

“Dammit Lyra! Don’t you notice the way he look at you all this time?!”

“Don’t talk out loud next to my ear, Nate. You’ll lower my IQ. And no, we’re friends. He already has a son.”

“So what? Did he tell you he has a wife?”

“… as far as I can remember, no.”

“Then you are more than legal to be his girlfriend!”

Lyra gives him a disbelief look, “Shame on you, Nathaniel Steiner. Your father took a long holiday and entrusted you this library, yet you’re gossiping in the middle of someone’s death!”

“So what?! Honestly, I have a good feeling about this. Imagine this case spread to the whole city, it will attract more guests to come! And don’t try to change the subject!”

It’s no use for Lyra to reply Nate’s babble. She rolls her eyes in boredom, leaning herself on the wall. A smile curve on her lips when she sees Vergil’s interrogation is done as the hybrid approaches her. She can tell he’s in his cranky mood—the crease on his forehead crumples and he looks like he’s ready to use his sword anytime to stab anyone.

“Bad day, isn’t it?” Lyra greets him.

“You bet it is.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a devil hunter?” Lyra whispers after Nate excuses himself and gives Lyra a mischievous wink.

“Of course not,” the half-devil grunts. “I told them that I’m a delivery man. That’s the safest fake occupation for mercenaries, since any higher and crucial occupation requires too much further identification.”

Lyra bursts in laugh, “I pity that police. He seems scared to even look at you.”

“That I didn’t beheaded him should tell my effort to spare his life.”

“Well… that’d be more corpse to clean.”

Vergil has to admit that he’s confused with Lyra’s drastic mannerism. The woman who stands beside him is the Lyra he knows all this time, unlike the woman who stood still with soulless face an hour ago. Was she just shock to see a corpse in front of her? But she looks calm and even unbothered with the fact that there’s someone died in the library. Since Vergil is a hybrid, he can easily sense people or demon’s anatomy and micro expression better than normal human. It almost impossible to fool him. Yet with Lyra, it’s useless.

From the tail of his eyes, he quietly observes her saying something about the polices and the women.

“They’re weird,” she comments. “What’s the use of calling police? Shouldn’t they call ambulance first instead?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.”

“Really? But seriously, I was going to call ambulance before she shouted. I think it’s the first thing to do if you find someone who suddenly collapse.”

“Unless it wasn’t an accident.”

“… could it be murder?”

“Probably.”

Vergil can use his supersenses and his prodigious knowledges to find the perpetrator, but he’s not in the position to easily do the investigation. He’s son of Sparda, older twin brother of Dante the infamous Legendary Devil Hunter. Any reckless movement can reveal Vergil’s true identity. While Dante is proud of his reputation all over the world, Vergil doesn’t share the same excitement. He prefers to keep on low profile, invisible from public. Clearly, going to and fro to investigate won’t be his best choice at the moment.

“You could just go, you know, the moment they called police,” Lyra says. “You said you don’t want anyone knows that you’re a son of… that war hero.”

“And that I am.”

“Why are you still here then?”

“Can’t let a friend facing adversity on her own.”

“All I need to do is just cooperating and let the police do the hard work. It isn’t really an adversity.”

“Call it what you want. I know you’re aware of the anomality in this case.”

Lyra giggles, “You got me there.”

The hybrid sighs and cross his hands on the chest, “From what I can sense through those women, I have my own hunch.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I think one of them has something to do with Clarissa Watson’s death. All of them are anxious and terrified, but their behaviors are unusual, like they keep something from the police.”

Lyra watches the three women; The blonde woman is the one who shouted to call the police. Her face shows a great grief, but surprisingly her behavior is unnaturally calm. While the woman in white dress is constantly crying since Clarissa’s death. The last woman, who has red hair and looks older than the other women, is the one who seemingly the most normal between them. She cries, but still manages to calming the other two women.

“Miss Martha Ventham,” Lyra points the blonde woman. “Mrs Holly Smith,” her fingers points the red-haired woman who Vergil assumes is the one who comes late, because he hasn’t seen that woman before. Then Lyra turns her finger to the woman in white dress. “And that’s Miss Elena Roberts.”

“How did you know their names?”

“I’m a librarian, Vergil. I have records of everyone who visited this library.”

“Or maybe you were eavesdropping when they were interrogated.”

Vergil doesn’t even have to look at Lyra’s mischievous smirk to see that his words are all true. “Typical.”

“Tell me Vergil, can hybrids die because of poison?”

“No. Our bodies have demonic immune to any kind of viruses, bacterias, and poisons. In a huge amount, we can still get hurt by the pathogen and poison, but it won’t critically damage us. We would heal eventually.”

“So… hypothetically speaking, poison won’t have effect on you.”

“True. But I presume your insane idea of having me drink Clarissa Watson’s coffee to make sure whether it’s poisoned or not isn’t really hypothetical for you, am I right?”

“I… haven’t even say a word—but yes! It takes time for the police to decide whether this is accident or murder. Look, they haven’t sent the forensic team.”

“… you’re right. It’ll take too much time to wait for the forensic team, if this is really a murder.”

“So, let’s split up, shall we? You go collect some evidences. Let me do the most difficult part.”

“Which is?”

Lyra glances at the group of grieving women. “Socializing, of course.”

--

It’s quite hard to tip toe and get away from the sight of the police, but Vergil has a practical idea. He leans his back on the wall, pretending to be bored, while quietly sends his doppelganger to investigate the crime scene. He measures his energy to make the doppelganger as transparent as possible to be unnoticed. With this, he doesn’t have to be directly hanging around the crime scene and catching any attentions.

From his doppelganger, he can see the Fiction section is already empty from officers, but they keep the place as it is for now to be further examined by the forensic team. Vergil’s doppelganger passes through the police line and spots three cups of coffee on the table, along with four books beside each coffees. One cup is shattered under the table, leaving stains of the coffee on the floor. He remembers the woman in the white dress, Elena Roberts, dropped the cup out of shock. That remind him of Elena’s dramatic behavior—she can’t stop crying and sobbing to the point Vergil finds it unusual. It looks like she’s very close with Clarissa, since she takes Clarissa’s death like the end of the world.

His focus turns to the cups on the round table with four chairs. Vergil remembers their seat positions. Clarissa was sitting between Elena and Martha Ventham. That makes it almost impossible for Holly Smith to do anything suspicious, since her seat was right in front of Clarissa’s. But that doesn’t mean she’s free from suspicion. She was the latest person to join the group. The doppelganger shadowy fingers touch the books on the table; Pride and Prejudice on Holly’s side, The Language and Poetry of Flowers on Clarissa’s, The Great Gatsby on Elena’s, and I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings on Martha’s. There are no sign of unusal things from the books. No dust, no stain or anything, but it’s important for Vergil to take notes at everything because it can be useful.

Now the coffee. Aside from the broken cup, the other cups are all half-emptied. Poison might have no effect on him, but he has a profound knowledge of toxicology and can recognize it if there’s any poison in the cups. He examines the cups, even the broken one, but find nothing unusual. If there’s poison inside the coffee, even the doppelganger can smell it. 

But why did Martha Ventham insisted to call the police?

Thinking the crime scene is clear, Vergil almost send off the doppelganger to spy the police before he catches Nate stares at the doppelganger dreadly. His eyes and mouth are wide open as if he sees a ghost. Technically, the doppelganger is a spectral created from Vergil’s demonic power. From human eyes, it could be seen as a ghost.

Poor man will never forget this haunting moment.

Nate holds his breath and fasten his steps away after the doppelganger vanishes.

Vergil grins in amusement. It’s funny to see people afraid of something they don’t understand yet.

--

“Clarissa was a good person. The kindest one. I’ve never thought…” Holly Smith sighs as her teary eyes meet Lyra’s. “I just can’t believe…”

“Did she have a heart problem?” Lyra asks, wrapping Holly’s hand with her own hand. “The way she collapsed, I think she—you know…”

“She had mild arrhythmia. Usually it’s not dangerous. I don’t know, she was just fine—completely fine before it happened. She still laughed with us. But then she said she had a sudden headache and nausea. I thought she would be okay after she vomited but…”

“Poor lady… did she take her medicine today?”

“I don’t know.  I just saw her drinking her coffee. I know because I sat right in front of her. She usually took digoxin to stabilized her heartbeat. I guess she forgot to take her medicine or she had too much dose of it, who knows…”

“I see… that must be horrible,” Lyra mutters sympathetically. “How long have you known Miss Watson?”

“About three years. She was my wedding’s florist. She was all lovely and kind. Her customers adore her. It’s hard to dislike such a person.”

“It must be hard for you and your friends.”

“Of course… but I can’t imagine how Elena’s and Martha’s feelings… they were close with Clarissa since high school.”

Well, that’s new. “The police said you were the last one to join the group.”

“Yes, I need to check my husband first before I came here. He got lung cancer and need to be hospitalized.”

“When you arrived, did you see anything unusual from your friends?”

“Unusual…? No, no. At first I didn’t see them because I took my coffee first, then I spotted their bags and cups on the Fiction section, so I put my coffee and my bag there and searched them between the shelves. I found Clarissa and joined her to browse a book.”

Holly lowers her voice. “I have to say… I—I don’t how to put it into words… but Clarissa told me that she had an argument with Elena before they came here. She didn’t exactly tell me the details and I didn’t ask her further because they seemed to have resolved their problem. It must be hard for Elena to take this matter. I can understand why she cries like that, you know, you fought with your best friend and a minute later you found out she’s dead.”

The librarian nods. “Your voice is getting sore, Mrs Smith. I’ll get you water.”

“Thank you.”

Lyra walks to the office, quickly pour water inside three glasses. She contemplates on Holly’s words. She had arrhythmia. Could that be the main cause of the death? But arrhythmia is generally not too dangerous as long as the patient regularly takes their medicine in appropriate dose as prescribed by doctor. Perhaps she took too much of it? Or maybe one of them intentionally gave the wrong dose? Since the police hasn’t declare the result of the autopsy yet, it will be difficult to find out the true cause of Clarissa’s death.

Lyra lifts the tray and passes Vergil, giving him an understanding smile. The hybrid gives her a sly smirk in return. Lyra spots a subtle of his demonic power around the police. It seems that Vergil uses his doppelganger to eavesdrop the police. And he called me typical? That sly devil.

“Here you go, Mrs Smith.” Lyra gives Holly Smith a glass of water.

“Thank you. You’re so kind.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lyra excuses herself and approaches the other two women who sit a bit far from Holly Smith. Elena Roberts is still crying, leaning her head on Martha Ventham’s shoulder. Lyra presents the water on the table in front of them and take a seat beside Martha.

“My condolences for your loss,” Lyra says.

“Thank you,” Martha sobs. “We’re sorry for causing commotion here.”

“It’s alright.”

Elena drinks the water almost hurriedly before she sobs again. “I-I can’t b-believe—Clarissa was just fine when we were heading here—we knew this library from internet and we thought it would be nice if the four of us v-visit—“

“I know, dear, I know.” Martha pats Elena’s shoulder.

“I—I need to get out for a while. I can’t stand it—“

“Of course, Miss Roberts.” Lyra answers politely.

Martha helps her friend to stand up as she and Lyra watch her walks shakily outside the library and closes the door abruptly.

“Elena is always the most sensitive between us,” Martha explains as she wipes her teary eyes with handkerchief. “She can cry almost all the time if something touches her heart deeply.”

Lyra nods in understanding, “I can understand her feeling.”

“All of this… is just… unexpected. We were here to having fun. I came early because I was too excited to meet my friends again. Clearly I never expected to see my best friend died in front of me. She didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Did she show any kind of sickness before she collapsed?”

“No. Not at all. As I said, I came here first, then we browsed the book together. About ten minutes later, Holly joined us. Nothing happened before Clarissa suddenly coughed and… you know the rest of the story.”

“Mrs Smith told me that Miss Watson was a florist.”

“Ah, yes! She was a proficient florist. She had a flower shop at Carrington Street. She loved flowers as it was her own soul. Since our graduation from high school, she always wanted to be a florist.”

“By the way, Miss Ventham, I need your opinion, since you think there’s something wrong with this case.”

Martha’s eyes are narrowed, “What do you mean I think there’s something wrong with this?”

“You shouted to call the police. Then you must know that something’s off. Otherwise, you would call the ambulance first instead of police.”

Martha gulps as she straighten her back. It’s obvious that she knows something. She scans through the room, making sure that no one will hear them before she whispers to Lyra, “It’s personal. I can’t tell the cop because Clarissa made me promised that I won’t tell everyone. But I feel like I have to call them, see if they found something suspicious from her death.”

Lyra nods as she wraps her hand on Martha’s, giving her reassurance, “I know that promise is a sacred thing. It just… I’m afraid police will get suspicious to you, Miss Ventham. Everyone has already witnessed that you’re the one who shouted to call the police. And to be very honest, that’s a rather suspicious thing to do. The police might have come to their conclusion that you have something to do with Miss Watson’s death.”

“For the love of God, no!” Martha’s whisper sounds desperate. “I won’t ever hurt my best friend! Nonsense!”

“Then you must tell your own story about this… a small thing to help the police to finish this case, and who knows it might help you free your worries.”

Martha considers Lyra’s words seriously. She closes her face with her palms, feeling extremely drained and frustrated. She takes a deep breath and murmurs, “Clarissa said she was blackmailed.”

“Blimey!”

“A week ago, she asked me to come to her house. She sounded terrified. She told me there was a bouquet of dark crimson roses at the front door of the house. I saw the bouquet; it was so dark that it almost like black roses. You know, in the language of flowers, black rose means—“

“Death.”

Martha slowly nods, “Exactly. I was going to tell Elena and Holly, but Elena was still in grief because she recently had miscarriage and Holly’s husband is hospitalized. Besides, Clarissa made me promised to not telling this to anyone. After the day she received the bouquet, nothing happened until today. I wish… I wish I could prevent her death. This madness drives me mad to think that Holly might be the one who threatened her, because she has a garden of roses at her house and she was jealous for Clarissa’s attention to her husband when she visited him at the hospital. But Clarissa was always kind to everyone! I know it was just a blinded accusation. It just a crazy thought in crazy situation. Holly is my friend. I should’ve never pointed my finger at her.”

She wipes her eyes again, “I’m sorry. I think you’re right. I should tell the police about this. It’s no use anymore to keep it as secret. At least this is the only thing I can do to help Clarissa.”

“I hope your testimony will help to finish this case.”

“Thank you. Anyway, would you do me a favour to look after Elena while I talk to the cop? She can’t be let alone or she would making scene.”

“Sure thing, Miss Ventham.”

“Thank you so much.”

Lyra’s eyes follow Martha’s steps as she heads out from the library. She suspects the police will change their direction of the investigation after they hear Martha’s explanation. She watches Nate gives a cigarette to Elena Roberts as they smoke together.

“Nate!” Lyra greets her co-worker. “I was looking for you!”

Nate blows the smoke out from his mouth, “I need to evacuate myself outta that hellish building.”

“Why so?”

“I saw a ghost! A real ghost!”

Lyra snorts. He must’ve seen Vergil’s doppelganger. “Nate, you work with your father for almost your entire life at this library. I work here for only two years, and I never saw any ghosts.”

“Ouch, that hurts! You don’t believe me, right? Then wait for your turn to be haunted by that frigging transparent ghost.”

“You’re exhausted, Nate. Relax.” Lyra approaches Elena Roberts who says nothing since Lyra’s arrival. “Miss Roberts? Are you alright? Your friends are waiting for you.”

Elena Roberts looks weary as she lets the smoke out from her mouth. Her makeup looks messy. It must be a horrific burden for her, to had miscarriage and the death of her best friend all of sudden.

“I-I’m sorry…” she sobs. “This is too much for me…”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry… I broke the cup.” She mutters and wipe her tears. “I don’t know what to do. I saw her and—and I still can’t believe it!”

“It’s fine, Missy. A cup is replaceable.” Nate tries to cheer her up.

“I regret that I had a fight with her before we went to this library. But it was all over. We apologized and we made fun of our earlier argument. Everything came back to normal. It was all fine.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I heard from the police you had miscarriage, and now your friend…”

Nate coughes as he drops his cigarette, “—dammit! I’m so sorry, Missy. Couldn’t imagine how hard it’s all for you.”

Elena nods and gives him a weak smile, “Thank you. It was just a month ago, and now my friend died in front of me. I must be cursed!”

“I believe it just an unfortunate event.” Lyra says.

“Then why do these miserable things happened to me? They all left me—my baby, my fiancé, my best friend! She was just fine when I picked her up, even when we arrived and browsing books along with Martha before Holly joined us. Then after she drank the fucking coffee—for Christ’s sake!”

Lyra and Nate exchange a pitiful look.

Elena begins to tremble again and panicly holds Lyra’s hand. “Martha brought us our coffee because she came here first. My heart tells me it was her doing. Who knows she put something to our cups? Clarissa told me that Martha borrowed a large amount of money from her to pay Martha’s rent, but she hasn’t pay it while Clarissa needed her money to return. Yet Martha scolded her for being arrogant and heartless! I know it must be Martha! That greedy, ungrateful bit—!”

“Whoa, whoa, Missy! Calm yourself down! You’re not serious with your words, right? It’s your friend we’re talking about!” Nate cuts the accusation.

Elena starts to sob again. “Oh God… what have I done?”

Nate gives her a cigarette again to calm herself down. Lyra decides to leave them alone because it seems like she has all the necessary informations from the women. She enters the library and walks to the Rare section where Vergil is already waiting for her.

--

“The forensic team comes to take samples on the crime scene,” Vergil says. “Because they found out cardiac glycosides inside Clarissa Watson’s blood, and they assume it could be murder.”

“According to Mrs Smith, Miss Watson had arrhythmia. It explains why her blood contained cardiac glycoside. She took digoxin regularly.”

“That I know. But they also found a large amount of some glycosides from convallaria majalis plant inside her blood.”

“Convalla—you mean that lily of the valley flower?“

“Correct. All parts of the plant contains at least 38 known cardiac glycosides. Convallaria has been used to treat congestive heart failure and some types of arrhythmias. However, the safe amount of lily of the valley is still debatable and if ingested in uncontrolled dosages, the effects on the human heart can be catastrophic.” 

“So... if combined with digoxin...” 

“It will cause more irregular heartbeats and increase the side effects of those glycosides. And there’s more than that. The plant contains non-protein amino acid called Azetidine-2-carboxylic acid. It’s incredibly toxic to humans even in small doses. Misincorporation of that acid into humans proteins can alter collagen, keratin, hemoglobin, and protein folding. Basically it changes human body function on a molecular level.”

“... that’s a terrible way to die.” Lyra contemplates. “Miss Watson was a florist. She must had a bunch of lily of the valley at her shop. It could explain why there’s convallatoxin inside her blood. But I think it’s impossible for a florist to do reckless thing such as intentionally consume lily of the valley.”

“Then it leads us to one conclusion; someone intentionally poisoned her. This person knows her illness and the medication she was taking regularly. But that’s the problem. I found nothing in Watson’s cup. It’s just a coffee.”

“Oh, bugger!”

“Miss Lyra Clayton?”

Lyra looks up to see the man who calls her. It looks like the man is from the forensic team, “Yes?”

“I’d like to ask your permission to collect the coffee cups as the evidence to be examined.”

Lyra smiles politely, “Of course.”

The officer hurries himself to join his team to the crime scene.

“Clayton,” Vergil emphasizes. “All these months, you never told me your surname.”

“Is that important now?”

The hybrid shrugs, “At least you could tell me.”

He looks adorable when he’s sulking like that. “Alright then. My name is Lyra Clayton. Nice to meet you.”

“I didn’t ask you to re-introduce yourself.”

“Well, I’m just emphasizing my name to you.”

“… I prefer your first way to introduce yourself.”

“With a riddle? For real? I thought you hate riddles!”

“It just seems natural,” Vergil looks away. “I just… I don’t like the idea of not knowing you entirely.”

“…”

“Nevermind,” he blurts. “Now tell me what you find from those women.”

She tells him everything, from Clarissa’s illness to the women’s personal problems and accusations to each other. Vergil keeps silent throughout the librarian’s explanation. He almost think that maybe this was a mere accident, that maybe Clarissa Watson accidentally consumed lily of the valley. But that sounds forced and too… incidental. The timing, the place, the blackmail that Clarissa received a week ago, the mental condition of Clarissa’s friends… It just not right.

Vergil recalls his memories of the broken cup. He didn’t taste the coffee—of course it’s humiliating to lick the coffee stain on the floor. He’s not a mindless animal. Yet he believes he saw something. Not unusual, but quite noticeable and looks completely normal.

“… none of them wear red lipstick.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I think it’s normal for women to wear lipstick.”

“Sure. It’s normal. I wear it sometimes too. What is it, Vergil?”

“It just… strange.”

“Why so?”

“The broken cup. There’s a red lipstick mark on it. I remember Clarissa Watson wore red lipstick. That makes it possible to someone to switch their own cup with Watson’s cup without raising any suspicion. Each of them are not always sit still to read, sometimes they searched for a book at another section or refill their cups. And when Watson collapsed, they switched back the cups and dropped it on purpose; to erase the suspicion.”

“But the police must’ve found the poison container already when they searched their belongings.”

“… you’re right.”

“But I agree with you. They all are suspect now. But first, we need to find the container. That’s the only way to find out the true killer. They have motives. Money problem, jealousy, and the unknown argument… Their accusations towards each other are not reliable.”

“All of them had a chance to put the poison. We need to look closer to their motives and the remaining evidences.”

Vergil sighs frustratedly and turns his head to the group of women. The case shows the light at the end of the tunnel, but they haven’t reach its end. They need to find the evidence; the poison container, if it really existed. The container must be still with one of them. But what could it be? Who brought it?

“The necklace.” Lyra murmurs.

“Pardon?”

“The necklace is gone. See?”

Ah.

Foolishness, Vergil. How could you miss that?

--

MURDER IN THE LIBRARY

Clarissa Watson (35), a florist and owner of Persephone Flower Shop died after collapsing at The Literarium, a small local library at Michelangelo Street on 11 March. The police declared that Watson’s death was caused by lily of the valley (convallaria majalis) poisoning. The library served free coffee and the cardiac glycosides from the lily of the valley flower was found inside Watson’s cup. According to the police, Watson had arrhythmia and she had to take digoxin regularly. With the digoxin combined with convallatoxin, both cardiac glycosides lead her to death. It was revealed that her friend, Elena Roberts (35) was the one who poured the poison inside Watson’s coffee. To cover her action, she dropped Watson’s cup that she switched earlier to erase the evidence when Watson collapsed.

At first, Roberts objected that she was too panic and can’t think clearly while dropping Watson’s cup, thinking it was her own cup. She also claimed she didn’t possess the poison. It was revealed that Roberts’s fingerprints are also appeared on the broken cup. The police also found Robert’s necklace from her clothes. The necklace contained residue of liquid convallaria majalis inside its removable tube-shaped pendant.

According to another of Watson’s friends who were present at the moment, Martha Ventham (35) and Holly Smith (37), Roberts was depressed because of her recent miscarriage. Roberts herself finally admitted that she thought Watson took part of her miscarriage by giving her chamomile and ginger tea when she visited Watson’s house three weeks ago. Roberts didn’t know she was pregnant until the miscarriage happened. She claimed she was devastated and it was hard for her to not blame Watson for the miscarriage. She put a bouquet of dark crimson roses at Watson’s house a week before this tragedy happened as a threat that she could never forget Watson’s mistake. Ventham confirmed this statement since she saw the bouquet when Watson told her about the blackmail, but she never thought that it was Roberts who sent it.

“Clarissa made me promised to shut my mouth about it,” Ventham stated. “But when she collapsed, I remember that bouquet and I couldn’t help myself to not call the police. Something’s wrong, and I have to find the truth for Clarissa’s sake”. Smith also confirmed that Watson and Roberts had an argument before their arrival at the library. It was then revealed that Roberts confronted Watson about the miscarriage, but Watson denied it.

Roberts said that the idea of murder just popped on her head  since two weeks ago and she chose lily of the valley because it was Watson’s favourite flower.

“Lily of the valley means return of happiness” Roberts stated. “I know because Clarissa told me that. I thought with her death by her own favourite flower, it would return my happiness after I lost my baby, but I can only feel nothing. I lost everything, and maybe I deserve that.”

 12 March, 02:00 pm

Lyra closes the newspaper and turns her eyes to Vergil, who continues to read Beowulf, “Do chamomile really can cause miscarriage?”

The hybrid grumbles, “Do I look like I’m capable to answer that?”

“You know, it’s rude to answer question with question.”

Vergil grunts. “All I know about miscarriage that it could happened by many factors. Too much chamomile might trigger the miscarriage, but that’s not always the case.”

Lyra nods slowly as she puts the newspaper down and picks up The Turn of The Screw. “At least that explains Miss Roberts’s over-dramatic reaction. I guess she feels guilty after murdering her friend, realizing that it was all to late and she can’t redo everything. But we can never really blame her frustration. She wasn’t in the right state of mind.”

“It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning,” Vergil recites the line from Beowulf. “It’s strange what human could do in devastation.”

“Yeah, such as stabbing themselves with a magic sword and split them into two different beings.”

Lyra laughs when Vergil gives her his usual deadly glare.

“Well, at least we have more customers thanks to Miss Roberts,” Lyra chuckles as she observes the guests. “Nate was right about that. Though Mr Steiner stopped giving free coffee. No more murder in the library, he said.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t look happy.”

“I don’t have to smile like Joker to tell you that I’m happy.”

“You’re funny guy, you know that?”

“Don’t call me funny.”

“And you’re the best partner in crime!”

“Silence.”

Even though Vergil dismisses her words harshly, Lyra still can see the subtle warm smile on Vergil’s lips. She flips the page of The Turn of The Screw and tell herself to finish the book today. There’s a long pause before she realizes that Vergil stares at her with unreadable expression. Uncomfortable with that kind of gaze, Lyra chuckles, “You know it’s rude to stare, right?”

“Pardon me. I was just trying to recall.”

“Of what?”

“Remind me again, what did exactly you tell the police once we found out the disappearance of Elena Roberts’ necklace?”

“Well… as we agreed, I told the police that Miss Roberts’ necklace could be the evidence they’ve looked for. As we know, the necklace has a tube pendant which could contains approximately 1-2 ml of liquid inside it. It was odd that she suddenly removed the necklace out of the blue, for we know she wore it since her arrival here with Miss Watson. It was a gamble, but the police confirmed that the tube contained residue of convallatoxin. It was easy for Miss Roberts to pour the poison inside Miss Watson’s cup and quickly removed the necklace right before she joined them to browse the books. We know that Mrs Smith might have turned to be the suspect since she was the latest to join the group, so she didn’t have any chance to witness Miss Roberts’ position before her arrival and she sat at her chair first to put her coffee on the table before she joined her group.”

“And Martha Ventham had witnessed that Holly Smith has a garden of roses at her house, which could indicated that she was the one who brought the bouquet of dark crimson roses as a threat to Clarissa Watson.”

“Correct. That strengthen Miss Roberts’ alibi.”

“So all the pieces of puzzle was collected,” Vergil leans forward and taps his fingers on the table. “But there’s a major plot hole.”

Lyra tilts her head, “And what is that?”

Vergil deeply gazes at Lyra’s eyes, his voice is almost gentle. “How did you know that Elena Roberts wore the necklace since the first of her arrival?”

Vergil has read too much micro-expressions and even if just a slightest, he can senses a fight-or-flight instinct from the librarian as her face turns pale and her eyes dilate before she quickly collects her self-control and pretending to be confused with Vergil’s question.

“Because I saw it. Don’t we all, Vergil?”

“I saw the necklace because she and Clarissa Watson almost bumped at me near the receptionist table. When the murder happened, the necklace was already gone. You were reading seriously all the time before you stood up to get some water for Clarissa Watson when she vomited at the toilet. That means Elena Roberts had already poured the poison before that moment happened and she already hid her necklace. Panic and sadness consumed them all and that made them unaware of menial thing like a necklace.” Vergil stops his finger’s movement. “In conclusion, Lyra, you never saw the necklace. But somehow you recognized the disappearance of the necklace. How did you know that?”

“I… asked her friends, of course.”

“That would be invalid, because they must’ve suspected it too and would immediately confronted her about the necklace, or at least they would report it to the police. But no, they all gathered up and crying for the loss of their best friend.”

That statement edges Lyra to her loss. She sighs deeply in defeat, looking around her like she’s making sure that no one heard their conversation. She slowly bites her lips and looking at Vergil’s eyes, seriously considering something.

The hybrid knows this is the time he finally get his answer for his long unsettling feeling to Lyra. He waits patiently all these months to find out, even hoping for Lyra to tell him in person. When he said that he dislikes to not knowing anything about her yesterday, he means it and deep down he wishes Lyra to understand it. It’s obvious that he likes her a little too much, but there’s still a border between them that he finds it hard to completely trust her.

I want to trust you.

“Stardust,” he lowers his voice. “You accept me for who I really am. You consider me as your friend despite my flaws. Please understand that I intend to do so to you.”

The feeling of grateful and relief fill his heart when Lyra finally nods in agreement at him. Her smile blooms again, now it’s brighter and sincere than her first fake smile. She still has her own doubt, but finally she takes a deep breath and grins.

“You’re right, it’s not fair. You told me everything and I’ll return the favor. I believe you can keep it a secret.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

She giggles.

“My head is full of ghosts,” Lyra says. “It’s a metaphor, because it sounds like whispers, then it turns into pictures.”

What’s she talking about?

“I don’t remember since when I possess this, nor how I acquired it. It just happened automatically. It’s… mostly frustrating. It mentally drains me, to know things I should not and never want to know. At least before I met you. Whenever you’re around me, it’s always stop. It goes normal just like everyone else doing. You don’t know how relieved I am to be with you. You stop the ghosts.”

“I am honoured,” Vergil says. “But I’m afraid I still don’t follow—”

“I can’t read your mind, Vergil.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the thing, because I always can read everyone’s mind, whether it’s humans or demons. But not you, and not when you’re around me. It seems like your presence disables my ability. But yesterday, when I touched those women’s hands, I realized that I still able to read mind when you’re around if I touch them. Now you know how I recognized Miss Roberts’ necklace, as well as the fact I know that she’s the killer all along. But I can’t just tell you all informations I acquired from her head. That’s why I have to discuss it with you. To guide you to the answer.”

Ah. The realization comes to Vergil’s head. She’s a telepath.

The librarian touches Vergil’s hand and grab it softly. It surprises him and he almost pull his hand off, but he restrains himself. He won’t lose to his own fear of physical contacts.

Slowly, she releases Vergil’s hand. “Yet… even if I touch you like this, I still see nothing. I wonder if it’s Sparda’s protection on you. I don’t dare forcing myself to look inside your head. I fear that would make you aware of my ability. Besides, I respect your privacy. I see too much. That’s why I like it when you’re with me. You give me solitude.”

I was wrong all this time. The voidness that Vergil always see whenever he watches Lyra’s eyes is the burden of the eyes that see too much. The eyes that exhausted and always wander to find peace and calmness. Sometimes it’s hard to see the truth behind the unfamiliar eyes, especially the eyes like hers. But now he understands the meaning of it. Vergil knows that knowledge can be a curse—she suffers silently with her ability to read mind.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he states. “You should’ve tell me earlier.”

“I thought it would make you uncomfortable.”

Nonsense. Of course I won’t feel uncomfortable whenever I’m with you.

“Will you try to read my mind again?” he asks.

“I told you already, I can’t. I’ve tried.”

Vergil reaches out his hand, “Just try it. I will allow you to read what’s on my mind at the moment.”

Lyra grabs his hand and trying to focus on Vergil’s head instead of his icy, alluring eyes. At first she gets nothing, just a static darkness, then she sees some blurry images that she can’t perceived. It seems that whatever protection in Vergil’s mind, it will endure itself if Vergil allows it, but although Lyra tries her best to clear her vision, the pictures are getting hazy, in fact, the more she tries to break Vergil’s mind, the darker it goes.

Then she hears it. It’s not quite like Vergil’s voice, more like a brainwave, but she can clearly interprets the meaning, and that makes her smile gets wider as she realizes that Vergil also awares of her presence inside his mind.

‘Our minds are connected!’ she exclaims.

Vergil still tries to adjust the new experience, ‘This is… curious. Have you done this before?’

‘No. This is the first time. Must be enchanced by the power of Sparda, eh?’

‘Could be.’

‘This is wicked!’

‘Even without opening your mouth, you’re still a chatterbox.’

‘And you’re still a grumpy devil.’

A sudden thought comes up from Vergil’s mind, but he hastily holds himself before Lyra could interpret it. That breaks their mind connection. He seems flustered, gripping his book tightly. Knowing that Vergil hides something, Lyra eyes the hybrid in front of her in a playful manner.

“You know no one can hear us, Vergil.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then you know I won’t tell it out loud, whatever thought you just hold before. I’m the only one who can hear you.”

“That’s precisely why I won’t tell you.”

Lyra shrugs and pick up her book again. For a moment they don’t talk to each other. But when Lyra almost finishes her book, her head jolts a little as she receives a thought from Vergil.

‘Places among the stars,

Soft gardens near the sun,

Keep your distant beauty;

Shed no beams upon my weak heart.

Since she is here

In a place of blackness,

Not your golden days

Nor your silver nights

Can call me to you.

Since she is here

In a place of blackness,

Here I stay and wait.’

Vergil gives her a quick glance and small grin after Lyra nods to him as a confirmation that she gets what he thinks. She knows that Vergil has a hard time to uttering his feelings and prefers to recite poems as his odd way to express whatever inside his mind and his heart. She knows that the poem isn’t exactly what Vergil wanted to tell her earlier, but she knows that this is the other way to tell her his intention. It’s still too subtle for her, but the poem warms her heart. It’s like a promise that Vergil will keep her secret and he accepts her the way she is, not even asking how could she possesses such a power, for Lyra is just a human.

Because Vergil will wait for her, and perhaps Lyra should never underestimate his patience.

‘Thank you, Vergil.’

--

List of recited poems and quotes

Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis by Sigmund Freud

The Epistle of Forgiveness by Al Ma’arri

Beowulf by Anonymous

Places Among The Stars by Stephen Crane

The title of this story was quoted from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake

Tagging @drusoona @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @harlot-of-oblivion @andieperrie18 @lovemadnessharleyquinn @rubixa-seraph 

Ao3 | Masterlist

[moonlightmadnessreviews]

The Turning (2020)

I have a confession to make: I nearly allowed the trailer for a film to keep me from seeing said film in theaters! I know, I know, “Fool me once...” and all that, but the trailer for Floria Sigismondi’s The Turning does a serious disservice to the film! Here I went in expecting something like The Nun or The Curse of La Llorona and instead I got a beautifully shot and (for the most part) well crafted ghost story.

The Turning is based off of the Henry James novel The Turn of the Screw, and follows Kate, a live in tudor, as she grows close to young orphan Flora and struggles to keep her older brother Miles in line. In this modern retelling of the story, set just days after Kurt Cobain’s tragic suicide in 1994 (... for some reason we’re given that as a point of historical reference), our main cast is made up of Mackenzie Davis as Kate, Finn Wolfhard as Miles and Brooklynn Prince as Flora. Supporting actors are rounded out by Barbara Marten as Mrs. Grose, Denna Thomson as Mrs. Jessel and finally Niall Grieg Fulton as Peter Quint.

The standout for me has to be Brooklynn Prince, bringing honesty and childish wonder to her performance as Flora. It really felt as though she memorized her lines and the film makers just set her loose in Bly Manor. Finn Wolfhard does a great job as Miles, interacting very well with Prince to make their sibling connection convincing. He does have a few lines throughout the movie that just feel overly dramatic, but he does the most he can with what he’s given. I can not ignore Davis’ performance in the movie either. Her scenes with Flora are some of the best in the film, and she makes it clear that she wants to help Flora and Miles, while also showing us just how much stress she is put under after a number of sleepless nights and constant torment from Miles. We feel for her and also want to see her make it out of this situation in one piece.

Cinematographer David Ungaro creates a beautifully gothic look, with washed out colors through out and the setting of Bly Manor is so wonderfully gothic that one can’t help but think of movies like The Others and The Lady in Black. Nathan Barr provides a haunting soundtrack and great atmosphere throughout, though I do wish we would have gotten more out of the score during the more tense and frightening scenes. Carey W. Hayes and Chad Hayes do a good job of adapting James’ novel and worked in enough hints to the film’s surprise ending that it’s baffling why they decided to end the movie in the manor they did.

Though this is better than most January offerings, The Turning leaves you wanting so much more out of its’ scares. There are sequences where we go in for a scare and suddenly pull out of them too quickly to feel any real fear. On the other hand, there are sequences that don’t ramp up the scares enough, leaving us watching Davis’ reacting to specters and spooks and feeling unconvinced and unaffected. This is, of course, no grounds to call a movie bad, but it is sort of disappointing. Though we do get a fare share of jump scares, it’s clear the film decided to focus more on the psychological horror that’s woven through the source material.

Herein lies the problem with the films ending. “Show, don’t tell.” is one of those hard and fast rules in film making, except when a film maker wants to show you you’ve been bamboozled for the entire runtime. We’ve seen it done time and time to great effect (The Usual Suspects is the KING of this device), but when it’s poorly executed it just ends up feeling like unnecessary exposition. The film makes the odd decision to go back in time to create doubt in Kate, but it’s in the execution where it fails, and fails hard. It’s clear that the director wants us to question EVERYTHING we’ve seen, to paint Kate as an unreliable narrator, but rather than solicit an “Oh my God! Can you believe that? I need to see that again.” type of reaction, the film feels unfinished. They were so focused on giving us an ambiguous ending that they forgot to actually end the story.

Though not a perfect affair, The Turning did surprise me with how much I enjoyed it. For the most part I was entertained and invested, genuinely wanting for Kate to discover the secrets of just what was plaguing Flora and Miles. We get some beautiful shots, a sweeping score, standout performances from our younger cast members and an emotional and sympathetic performance from our lead. It’s ending be damned, I have a feeling that The Turning will enjoy a cult following in the years to come. Though they missed the mark with their twist ending, Sigismondi and company have crafted a film I’m actually looking forward to seeing again and re-examining through a different lens. That in and of itself makes The Turning an effort they should be proud of.

Rating: 3 Full Moons out of 5 🌕🌕🌕

[rt8815]

Christmas 2020

This fills the “Fix a plothole” square on my CM Bingo card.

Again, no clever title

WC: 2,100

The first scene is mostly unnecessary, but ask me if I care. Spoiler alert: I don’t!

I couldn’t find a picture or GIF that fits, but this one is cute.

Out of all the reindeers, you know you’re the mastermind

Run, run Rudolph, Randolph ain’t too far behind

Run, run Rudolph, Santa’s gotta make it to town

Santa make him hurry, tell him he can take the freeway down

Run, run Rudolph, ‘cause I’m reelin’ like a merry-go-round

McKinley sang along with Chuck Berry, pulling cookies from the oven.

“What would you like for your first Christmas, my littlest love?” she asked Sophie.

The five month old babbled at her mother, shaking her arms. If she weren’t too young for it, McKinley would’ve sworn she was dancing to the music.

“You’ll want for nothing, certainly! Aunt Penny alone will spoil you rotten, but that’s her job as your fairy godmother, I suppose.”

She smiled wistfully at the memory of Sophie’s birth, how Penny’s godmother-hood was assumed from the moment they announced Baby Reid’s impending arrival, and how utterly mortified Penny had been to learn, birth center bedside, that she would be co-godparenting with Luke.

McKinley considered him as her brother as much as she considered Penny to be her sister. Not only had the four hung out together from the start, Luke had also looked after her the month she and Spencer weren’t speaking to each other, and he was instrumental in getting them back together.

How do you not make such a man your child’s godfather?

Sophie began fussing to be nursed, so McKinley scooped her out of the highchair and carried her to the couch.

Buzz-buzz

A text came from Spencer, asking if she was free for a video chat. Once she powered up her laptop, she sent a quick ‘Yep.’

His face appeared, the picture slightly wobbly until he situated his phone on the kickstand.

“Hey there! How are my two favorite ladies?”

“We’re great,” she replied, turning Sophie in her lap to face the camera. Securing her with one hand on her torso, McKinley gently grasped Sophie’s arm to kiss her hand and wave it at Spencer.

“Who’s that, Sophie? Who’s that handsome devil?”

“Stop,” he mumbled, blushing at her suggestive tone.

“What?” she continued, ignoring his hands slashing across his neck. “You’re gorgeous...irresistible...delectable.”

Spencer’s face graduated to an even deeper pink. “Anyway, takeoff is in 20 minutes and I wanted to see you both before switching to airplane mode.”

“You’re on the jet?” she asked flatly. “Oh God, everyone heard that, didn’t they?”

“Hey, Twist ‘n’ Shout,” Luke winked as he slipped past Spencer to the bathroom.

McKinley facepalmed.

“I tried to warn you.”

“Hush.”

Spencer chuckled. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?”

“Yep,” she replied, grateful for the change of subject. “Just a few dishes left to cook in the morning. Y’all bringing your sides?”

“On it.”

“My pie ingredients are ready and waiting.”

“I’m baking my casserole tonight.”

McKinley sighed in relief. She and Spencer offered to host the family Christmas dinner this year, since Rossi had left to spend the holidays with Joy and Kai. It didn’t make the most sense because their house was rather small, but everyone got on board regardless. The others contributing to the meal eased her anxiety a bit.

They chatted a while longer, and everyone took turns fawning over Sophie, who really started demanding lunch.

“Guess I better go,” McKinley sighed.

Spencer nodded, blowing kisses to his girls.

“See you in a few hours. Love you.”

“We love you too. Say ‘Bye-bye, Daddy.’”

Sophie gurgled as the video chat ended.

…

The tree was lit, the house all decorated, and the smell of roasted meats and vegetables permeated the air.

Spencer eyed the mini doughnuts McKinley made just for him.

She nudged his hip. “Don’t you dare!”

“Awww.”

“Go on then, man-child,” she rolled her eyes. “It is the holidays, I suppose.”

His pout slid into a smirk, tongue darting between his lips. “Actually, I think I’ll wait for dessert until tonight.”

“Spencer, there’s a child present.”

Sophie gazed at them, absentmindedly gnawing on a teething ring.

Ding-dong!

“That’ll be Penny. I hope I did a good job on these vegetarian dishes!”

“I’m sure they’re delicious,” he said reassuringly as he walked to the door.

Penelope hobbled in, laden with gift bags and all decked out in her Christmas best.

She deposited the gifts under the tree, then gave Boogie a quick pat on her way to McKinley.

“Gimme gimme gimme,” Penny ordered, making grabby hands at Sophie.

“Hello, angel,” she cooed. “You know you’re not getting her back until bedtime, right?” Penny informed the couple as she left faint lipstick prints on Sophie’s cheeks and forehead.

“You know that means you’ll be changing any diapers, right?” Spencer replied.

“Small price to pay.”

Everyone trickled in over the next hour, Luke being the last. Penny handed over Sophie with only slight reluctance, perhaps because he seemed to be in a sour mood. 

His scowl dissolved when he held Sophie, breaking into a joyful grin.

“¡Feliz Navidad! ¿Cómo estás, Nena?”

She settled in her uncle’s arms, squeaking happily when he nuzzled her fine, curly hair and kissed her temple.

“Is Lisa driving separately?” McKinley asked, hoisting a massive plate of pheasant and quail off the island. Maybe she went a smidgen overboard.

Luke stiffened. “She's working another shift at the ER,” he replied, never looking away from Sophie. “Told me to tell you she's sorry she couldn't join us.”

Everyone else shared brief, tense glances.

“I'll put together a plate for you to take home for her. Let her know we missed her.”

“Sure.”

“Wine, anyone?” Spencer offered, breaking the awkward silence.

Most of the evening passed smoothly, with everyone sharing child-friendly stories of past Christmases (Henry and Michael were there, of course!), passing around and feeding Sophie, and reading a (sadly) abridged version of A Christmas Carol.

And then Luke felt the need to snidely comment on Penny’s boyfriend’s absence. It was a relatively new relationship and kind of soon to drag each other into their friend groups.

Spencer and McKinley alone heard him in the kitchen, since the rest of the group were chatting excitedly in the den, waiting to exchange presents.

McKinley wrenched open the back door, seizing Luke by the collar. “You, with me. Now.”

She steered a tipsy Luke onto the back porch, locking the door behind her.

“Are you insane? It’s 30 degrees out here!” he growled, swiping at her keys, but McKinley stuffed them down her bra.

“Good! We can make this quick, and maybe you’ll sober up as a bonus. Say it and we can go back inside.”

“Say what?”

“How much you hate that Penelope’s with someone else.”

Luke snorted, though he flushed with embarrassment. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I -?”

“Because she’s not with you!” she exclaimed, her voice shrill. “You have feelings for her and you are kicking yourself for not acting on them in the beginning.”

He laughed incredulously. “I do not have ‘feelings’ for Penelope.”

“Why else would you have discouraged Phil from pursuing her?”

“How the hell do you know that?” he asked, taking a step back.

McKinley threw up her arms. “I knew Phil and Lisa from volunteering in the rehab wing, remember? One morning the spring after he was murdered, I ran into her at a coffee shop following her shift in the ER. We talked about him, how much his death shook us, and then she said, ‘It’s sad he never had the chance to be with Penelope. They’d have been a cute couple.’”

Luke swallowed hard.

“And I found that interesting, since I distinctly recall you telling Penny that Phil hadn’t asked about her. Lisa told me you also said, ‘You’re no match for Penelope Garcia.’? Bro, you got it for her baaad.”

“Did you mention any of this to Lisa?”

“Don’t you think she’d have confronted you if I had?” McKinley countered, rubbing her arms for warmth. “You think Lisa hasn't noticed how frequently you hang out with me, Spencer, and Penny even when she’s not working? Do you think it’s a coincidence that she’s missing all these parties?”

His face hardened. “Are you suggesting that she’s -”

“Cheating? No! Miserable! You two are miserable - don’t deny it!” she warned when he started protesting.

“Luke, you won’t admit out loud that you’re unhappy with Lisa or that part of the reason you jumped into the relationship was to forget Penny. If you did? Well, then you’d be the most awful person on this porch.”

McKinley breathed in the frigid air before continuing. “So, I’m gonna give you an out.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“By saying something that’s even more awful.” She stared pointedly at the falling snow, voice wavering.

“Like what?”

“Sometimes I hate being a wife and Mom,” she spat venomously. “Sometimes I wanna pack up my old tiny house, drive off and never look back.” She clamped her hands to her mouth, surprising even herself with her confession.

Luke gaped at her for the longest moment, lips parted in shock.

He slumped against the wall. “I shouldn’t be with Lisa, I should be with Penelope. I love her.”

McKinley threw her best ‘No shit, Sherlock’ face his way.

“You serious?”

“In my darkest hours, yes. I love Sophie and Spencer so much, but you remember how much I loved playing live music? I never see Taylor and the gang anymore since I quit The Five Doctors, and it’s been almost a year since I picked up my guitar.”

She leaned into her wall, raking through her hair. “Every day I scramble to meet deadlines at work, then here it’s cooking, cleaning, laundry, feeding and bedtime. I’m a single parent for weeks at a time. It never lets up. It’s really hard, Luke.”

“Have you talked to Spencer about -” he stopped short at the glare on her face.

“Right, that’s not fair of me.”

McKinley retrieved her keys. “Horror of horrors, we have to be adults about this. I need to adjust to my new normal and you need to talk to Lisa, because if you keep avoiding the subject, it’ll blow up in your faces.”

“And Penelope? I’m not sure what to say to her. I mean, does she even feel the same way about me?” He cringed at how junior high that sounded.

“Luke, if you wanna know how Penelope feels, you have to talk to her."

They discreetly returned to the kitchen, where Spencer was pouring cocoa for everyone.

“Presents, presents, presents!” Michael chanted.

Soon the den was drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. At some point, JJ switched her phone to video because the kids were putting on quite a show. Amid the excitement, Sophie squirmed in Penelope’s lap and stretched her arms in Spencer’s direction.

“Had enough Aunt Penny for tonight?” she asked, handing her over. “Okie-dokie. I’m marvelous but I’m not Mommy or Daddy.”

Sophie studied her father’s face intently, vocalizing softly. She suddenly reached up, patting his cheek.

“Dah-dah.”

The room fell silent.

McKinley gasped. “Did she just…?”

“She did,” Spencer whispered in awe. “Her first word. Yes, sweetheart, I’m your Daddy.”

Everyone watched the three huddled together in a private family moment, elated beyond description for their friend. He had waited years for this and he deserved every happiness.

…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Luke froze, hand hovering by the doorknob. “Uuum, home?”

“Four glasses of wine? You’re not safe to drive. You’re sleeping on our couch.”

“She’s right, Luke. Besides, the weather’s picking up.”

He couldn’t argue with that: the snowfall obscured the street, it was so thick. To be honest, he didn’t want to go home anyway.

McKinley carried Sophie to the nursery, pausing at the hall closet.

“Hmmm, why not?” she muttered to herself.

Once Spencer found blankets and pillows for Luke, he went to help tuck in Sophie. The sound of plucking and twanging caught his attention. Peering into the nursery, he was met with a precious scene.

McKinley stood by the crib, tuning her guitar. Spencer remained silent, not wanting to disrupt her. Slowly, she began softly playing “La Vie En Rose,” speaking the lyrics since she couldn’t actually sing.

...Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

“It’s great hearing you play again.”

“I’m kinda rusty, ” she grinned sheepishly. 

“Nonsense,” he corrected, pulling her into one of those dizzying kisses.

Up close, Spencer could see the exhaustion in his wife’s eyes.

“You’ve done a lot today,” he noted as he rubbed her back. “Let me run you a bath, and then I can read you to sleep. How’s that sound?”

McKinley sighed contentedly. “Perfect.”

---

@illegalcerebral @dreatine @cynbx @cmbingo