#oh bringing in buckets of blood and throwing it on students is fine but we draw the line at kissing?

[mommymooze]

Can You See What is Growing Before Your Eyes?

seteth & Flayn, Reader & Flayn, Seteth X Reader

Sitting on the fishing dock as the sunset blazes across the skies, it is quiet and peaceful in the monastery. You can almost imagine there is not a war going on, that the Imperial army isn’t marching towards your location to attack you and your friends who have arrived for the Millennium festival. Your thoughts are peaceful as you observe the rose and orange colored skies reflected in the pond Your bobber floats motionless on the calm waters.

“Are the fish biting?” Flayn calls from the far side of the water.

Just as she speaks your bobber begins to twitch. You hold up a finger with one hand as you grasp your pole more firmly in the other. Watching, waiting, suddenly the red and white float goes under, you jerk the line, hooking the fish. It is a short battle, the bullhead gives up quickly.

“It’s about average.” You answer as you look over your basket. “I have 15 fish, so after a few more I will bring them to the kitchens.”

“How are you able to catch such an abundant amount? My brother and I would be here for half a day or more and still not catch that quantity.” Flayn chides, her hands on her hips.

“If I had any fishing secrets, I would not hesitate to share them with you and Seteth.” You smile.

“Perhaps I shall watch you and learn of your mysterious technique.” Flayn decides, sitting on an empty crate nearby.

Retrieving and rebaiting your hook, you toss it back into the water, causing ripples to spread across the pond. You sit, still as a statue. Out of the corner of your eye you watch Flayn switch the position of her legs, then look around, fix her hair, and otherwise appear bored. You have not moved, except to shoo a bug from getting close to your eye. Even that movement was performed slowly and silently.

The bobber twitches in the water, moves left, stops briefly and heads right. It becomes halfway submerged, only to pop back up again immediately. You do not move. It begins moving away from your position. Just as it submerges you yank the line and are fighting the hooked fish. The fish jumps, trying to get away, however you keep steady with your pull on the line, hauling it closer to the dock.

“A golden fish!” Flayn excitedly laughs.

Hauling your catch close to the dock, you grab the fish by its jaw, remove the hook and secure it in your bucket.

“That one will pay for the accompaniments to an excellent fish stew!” You announce, beginning to pack up your fishing equipment.

“I did not see anything special about your technique. You used a worm and I saw no special powder or magic cast upon it. Strange.” Flayne ponders.

“First, you must learn to be one with the water. If it is still, you must be still. If it moves, you can move. The fish will be disturbed by your wiggling, especially on the dock.” You share your wisdom with the lovely young lady.

“I will have to tell my brother of this discovery, and that we will be having a fine fish stew this evening. Thank you!”

Selling your fish in the market, you take the rest to the kitchens. The cooks are thrilled to be able to provide a hearty and protein filled meal to the masses, there will be enough to go around. More and more people are arriving at the monastery to assist with the war efforts.

After returning your belongings to your quarters you head to the Cathedral to give prayers of thanks. Thanks for the food today, for so many willing to help defend the church, for the return of so many students and for the return of Professor Byleth. Now that they are back, hopefully they can lead the church and Blue Lions to victory. Your mind falters at that, observing the wounded and broken man that Dimitri has become. You watch as the Professor approaches him, trying to speak to him, trying to get him to eat. The conversation is one sided. Dimitri says nothing. Your eyes go wide as he leaps at the Professor and throws them against a stone column, then returns to his place at the crumbled goddess statue.

Without thinking you run to Byleth’s side. You are well within Dimitri’s range, but your focus is Byleth. Their head is bleeding, and they are moaning. Quickly you heal the head wound. It is not deep, however there is a lot of blood. You struggle to drag them further from Dimitri to a safer part of the Cathedral.

“Professor, can you hear me? Please?” You whisper to them, your voice shaking. They’ve just returned from being gone for five years, it would be horrible to lose them again so soon.

The professor shakes their head. “I am okay. He caught me off guard.” They answer as you help them to their feet.

“Can I take you to the infirmary? Do you have pain elsewhere?” You anxiously ask as they lean on you slightly while you hold their arm, walking to the pews.

“I am alright.” They nod. “My head was hit. I may have a bruise or two, nothing that will not be fine by tomorrow.”

“If you are sure. There is no need to suffer with pain if we can help.” You smile.

Professor Byleth heads back to the bridge leaving the Cathedral, refusing your offer to accompany them. You remain, offering further prayers for Byleth’s health and healing for Dimitri.

You return to the infirmary, your home away from home. Manuela is no longer here, she sided with the Empire. Being thrust into the position of one of the main healers, you remain out of battle, dealing with the injured soldiers. Before the war you worked your shifts in the infirmary, Manuela handled the serious cases.

When the war started, everyone fled the monastery. You packed more books on healing and treatments than you did clothes. Seteth encouraged you to lead the healers for the Knights of Seiros. Every place you travel, you consult with other healers in the area, trying to increase your knowledge as well as theirs. You hope you are adequately filling the shoes he sets forth.

At the infirmary desk you pull out the file for Byleth and make a note regarding todays treatment. When the Knights of Seiros returned to the monastery, you were happy to find many of the medical notes still here. Thieves must not have a use for them. All potions, salves, bandages, and lotions were gone. You have been working with several other clerics building up your inventory.

A sudden knocking brings your attention to the door of the infirmary.

“Greetings. I see you have no patients today, I hope everything is well.“ Seteth bows.

You look up at the handsome man in the doorway. “Good afternoon, Seteth. Byleth was injured by Dimitri earlier. If you see them, make certain they are not hiding any injuries I was unable to find.”

Seteth nods, “I understand your concerns. There are many that take care and have themselves treated properly. Then there are others, I understand your concerns.” He smiles, “Flayn said you were fishing earlier.”

“Yes. I am not a hunter, however I do want to do my part to keep the food stores filled. An army marches on its stomach.” You answer as you file papers in the cabinet.

“Flayn advises you are considerably successful at fishing. Perhaps I can join you and observe your techniques.” Seteth smiles, it makes him even more handsome.

“I am no master fisherman. Flayn simply is not patient, she can’t hold still.” You laugh. “I have seen you fishing with Alois. You would be more successful if he was not there, he is rather boisterous.”

“True. I suppose I like to fish because it is relaxing. These are stressful times. I do hope you are taking care of yourself too.” Seteth answers, a bit of authority creeping back into his voice.

“Noted, sir.” You nod, then begin to unpack dressings and filling the cabinets.

“I am asking you to take care of yourself as a friend. We have worked together for these many years. I’ve seen you exhaust yourself taking care of the knights.”

“War is not conducive to sleep. I will sleep when the war is over.” You chuckle. “Besides, when I finally do leave to find rest, I notice there is still candlelight coming through the windows of your office. Perhaps you should lead by example, my friend.”

“Touche!” He chortles. “I will put in further effort.” Seteth nods, returning to his office.

You treat minor cuts and bruises the remainder of the afternoon. Flayn stops by and asks you to join her for dinner. After all, you were the one that provided the ingredients for this evening’s meal. You promise to meet her after restocking the supplies.

In the dining hall you take your bowl of fish soup and look for Flayn. She is sitting next to her brother and waving for you to join them. You take a seat opposite them. She is easily excited.

“I am so happy that you are able to join us.” Flayn smiles.

“It is important to keep your body healthy and nourished.” You nod and smile softly at Seteth. You are happy to see him in the dining hall. He has had too many meals in his office, overworking himself.

“Yes. An army runs on its stomach, and it is important for everyone to eat properly, especially those that support the army.” Seteth tells Flayn, encouraging her to eat.

“Does that mean I can have seconds, brother?” She asks, sucking in her cheeks a bit to appear more undernourished.

“Only after everyone else has had a portion.” He waves his spoon around the room at the other diners.

Flayn pouts.

Observing her sad face, you have an idea. “If you would like, we can fish tomorrow early in the morning and hopefully catch more for a fine fish dinner.” You pat her hand that is resting on the table.

Flayn’s face now wears a huge smile. “Really? I am excited! You can teach me more fishing techniques. Oh brother! Maybe you can join us?” Both of you look at him, a hopeful smile on your faces.

Seteth’s brow furrows. “I will have to check my schedule. I will see if I can make the time.”

The next morning you get up at dawn to head to the woods, digging up earthworms and grubs for bait. The ground is still moist from the rains and the worms are close to the surface. You have plenty for everyone, including Byleth, who you share bait with frequently. They buy bait from the merchants when they are out, and every coin is needed for the war.

The day is slightly windy, causing the water to dance on the pond. The sunlight sparkles on the surface as the sun rises higher in the sky. Flayn joins you. Instructing her on proper baiting of the hook you remind her to sit as still as possible. You sit far enough apart to softly talk, yet not interfere with each other’s quest for fish.

Flayn has been listening attentively, her basket of fish is proof of her improvement. She brings a fish to you that has swallowed the hook and you show her how to use a tool you’ve made that will help loosen it. Instructing how to slide her hand down the fish so she will not be pricked by the fins, then use the tool to release the hook. Suddenly a shadow is blocking the sunlight over your shoulder.

“Good morning, brother. We are having a marvelous time fishing!” Flayne giggles.

“I can see that. You both have a surprisingly large catch. Perhaps there are many secrets you can pass along to us.” He smiles at you. That is a very handsome look on his face.

“I would be happy to help.” You smile as Flayn puts her fish in her basket and baits her hook for the next catch. “I have a nice collection of worms today, help yourself.” You point to the can.

“Hmm.” Seteth frowns. “Would you mind giving me pointers on how to set the bait? My wife usually baited the hooks. I can manage with some things, but worms are tricky.”

“I understand. My father would set my bait when I was little. I was afraid of the wiggly bugs and worms. Though he is gone, I will pass along his techniques. It is a good way of remembering him.” You take a worm and quietly show him how to set the worm on the hook, leaving the end close to the barb of the hook to wiggle.

“I always make sure the barb is just through the end there, touching it but not piercing your finger. There. You’re ready to go.” You smile as you let loose the hook and it dangles and spins in the air.

“Appreciated.” Seteth smiles. The relaxed look on his face is a sight to behold.

You cast your line into the water and wait. Flayn is to your right trying very hard to be still. Seteth is to your left, taking a seat on a crate after casting his line in the water. Flayn’s bobber starts to wiggle. You hear her stifle a noise, trying to remain quiet. Suddenly her bobber goes under, she pulls her pole back.

“I have one. Oh, it feels heavy!” Flayn excitedly giggles as she works to haul the fish to land.

You lean to the edge of the pond, grabbing the fish as soon as she has it out of the water. “That certainly is a large fish. I think that fills your basket this morning!” You laugh.

She puts her fish away and gives you a huge hug. “You have taught me so well. I’m going to take these to the kitchen right away. I feel like a successful fisherwoman!” she grins.

“You are an excellent student. What an amazing haul!” You laugh, watching her struggle with her heavy container of fish.

Seteth now gasps as he hooks a fish. You grab the fish by the side of the mouth when he gets it to shore.

“Oh my, it’s swallowed your hook. That’s the fourth time today. They must be really hungry to gobble them down so quickly.” You mutter, heading to your tackle box to grab your tool to remove the hook.

“You can retrieve the hook? I usually have to cut the line and tie on a new one.” Seteth is happily surprised.

You call him closer as you follow the line into the fish’s mouth. You hand him the tool and instruct him as he uses it to free the hook. He stands much closer to you than he normally does. He smells like myrrh, cinnamon, and ginger.

“That was certainly educational today.” Seteth smiles. “Thank you for your instruction.”

“Any time.” You smile softly. “The company was very enjoyable.”

A week later Seteth invites you for tea in his office. Checking the calendar, you note that next week everyone will leave for battle, so he must want to review final plans. You arrive at his door at the exact appointed time, holding several folders of paperwork that he may find useful to allay his concerns.

Seteth invites you inside and gestures to the table by the windows that is set for tea.

His desk is piled high with folders, stacks of letters to be sealed, parchment and inkwells randomly scattered amongst his work. Mounds of opened letters fill the box on one corner of the desk while multiple completed replies occupy a box on the other side.

“Is that paperwork for me?” He appears to be surprised at the bundle in your hands.

“I thought you may want to discuss the inventories and preparations being made for our upcoming march.” You respond shyly. The last thing you want to do is provide more work for him.

Seteth takes the folders from you and places them on a nearby table. “Actually, I have the greatest trust in you and would only speak to you about it if you need my guidance. Please, take a seat and join me for tea.” He gestures to the table and chairs by the window.

Taking your seat, you pull the cloth napkin to your lap. You feel a bit nervous. He has only asked you to his office to discuss matters of the church or war. This is your first purely social visit.

Seteth pours the tea, handing you tongs to take a sweet treat from the basket.

“Apologies, I do not know your favorite tea. I hope you do not mind Four Spice Blend.” He smiles softly as he takes his seat, making certain his chair is at a proper gentlemanly distance from you.

“I drink Four Spice in the cooler weather, the flavor seems to warm me from within.” You return the smile. This must be the excitement the students feel when Professor Byleth invites them to tea.

“I am glad you enjoy it.” Seteth hums. “I have been having conversations with Felix lately about the importance of friends in our lives. I then realized that I have been negligent myself in not taking time to visit with my friends.”

“I am delighted to call you my friend, of course. We have worked together for these many years, but we have not made proper time to simply chat.”

“I am making an effort to correct that mistake, starting today.” Seteth nods and takes a sip of tea. “Do tell me about yourself, what books you like to read, what are your hobbies?”

You chat back and forth until the tea has grown exceedingly cold, exchanging tidbits of knowledge into who each of you are as a person. You speak of the books you’ve read recently and share impressions you have on your allies.

“This has been simply fascinating. A fantastic break from work. I feel very refreshed,” Seteth smiles. “I have learned quite a bit about you and your many talents.”

“I feel the same! I have learned so much about you as well. Thank you for inviting me to a very lovely tea.” You stand and reach for your paperwork.

“Perhaps we can make it a weekly occurrence, to make certain we have the time to check on each other,” He offers.

“Fantastic. I would enjoy it immensely.” You are beaming with happiness as you head out the door. Your heart skips a beat as you head down the hallway. You don’t mind that there are a few patients impatiently waiting inside the infirmary.

It is a few weeks before you can have another quiet tea together. Travel and battle do not allow for much time to socialize. Your hands are full setting up the infirmary tents, organizing the clerics, making certain the army has well stocked bandages and potions for the fighters.

Flayn is going to be on the field for the battle and you worry over her as she finishes attaching the last pieces of her armor. She comes to speak with you frequently, discussing a few adult matters that she is not confident with confiding in her brother.

“Watch out for arrows, if you are hurt, fly straight to the infirmary. Your brother would never forgive me if I cannot get you back into perfect health as soon as possible.” You kiss her on the forehead and send her off to her wyvern. You have become quite close friends and say a silent prayer for her safety. She reminds you of your younger siblings that you raised when your mother passed away.

Now you are standing at the edge of camp, watching what little you can see of the battle. Seteth and Flayn are flying close together on their wyverns, protecting each other. You send a quick prayer for their safety as you head back into the infirmary tent, injured fighters are already arriving.

Wrapping a bandage to a soldiers arm you’ve completed stitching and healing, you hear a wyvern’s roar outside the tent. Running to the front of the tent, Flayn is guiding her brother’s wyvern to the ground next to hers. Seteth is nearly unconscious as you hurry to lift him from the saddle. You have no idea where your strength comes from as you carry him into the infirmary and place him on an examination table. You’ve carried unconscious soldiers before, but Seteth is very solidly built.

Flayn dashes in behind you, filling you in on what happened. “He was hit by a lightning bolt. His wyvern was hit as well, but it dealt with the hit better than he did. I think it was because of the arrows he had taken prior that had weakened him.”

“Help me get his robes off.” You quickly instruct her.

She helps remove his robes and armor as you strip him to his undershirt and trousers. His pants are ruined by two arrows, you cut them off just above the arrow in his thigh and around the other in his calf. Neither of the projectiles are close to arteries, however the one in his thigh is very deep into the muscle. It seems to take forever to remove the arrowhead from leg. You had to cut tissue and pull his flesh out of the way. Finally, you work faith magic deep into the torn tissues, encouraging the flesh to bind back together.

Flayn works on his shoulder where the burns from the lightning strike entered his body. Luckily it traveled down his arm and exited close to his hand. You heal what you can of the burns for now, they will need further attention later.

Two strong soldiers help lift Seteth onto a stretcher, moving him to his tent. Gently you guide him on to his bed with Flayn’s assistance and she stays to watch over him. Before you leave, you examine her for any injuries, healing even the smaller cuts, knowing her brother would not be pleased to waken and see she was not treated.

Returning to the infirmary you triage the incoming soldiers. The new casualties begin to dwindle and those that are well enough leave for dinner. You make certain those that can eat do so. You then proceed to check on Seteth.

Standing at the entrance on the tent you announce yourself. Flayn beckons you to come in. Flayn is sitting in a chair, knitting a sock as she quietly sits by his side.

“I am so happy that you taught me how to knit. It is keeping my hands and mind busy so I do not hover over him so much. He has been sleeping peacefully since he was brought here.” Flayn updates you.

Leaning over the cot that Seteth is silently sleeping on, you check his vitals then his wounds to make certain he has not bled through the bandages. You’ve noticed his and Flayn’s heartrate are not the same as others. There are a few things you have seen over the years that sets them apart from the others. You keep these things to yourself, honoring their privacy.

Looking over at Flayn you smile reassuringly. “Would you like to go visit with your friends a bit? Promise me you will stay right in the middle of camp. No going off anywhere or your brother will have my head. I’m sure you want to check on them as well. When the sound the night bell, be back here very quickly. “

She gasps with excitement, “Yes! Thank you so much.” She hurriedly packs away her knitting and runs from the tent.

Remaining by Seteth’s side, you heal the electrical burns to his shoulder and hand. Exhausted, you doze lightly in the chair with a blanket over your legs and your hand resting on his chest. If he makes the slightest movement your eyes are wide open and you observe him for any discomfort.

Flayn returns a few hours later, tired and happy that she could visit with everyone. She kisses Seteth on the head and tells you good night just as he wakens.

Opening his eyes, his first sight is her. “Flayn!” He gasps. “You are alright.” His eyes close and he visibly relaxes for a moment.

“She is fine. A few minor scratches. Absolutely nothing compared to your injuries.” You pat your hand on his chest.

Seteth moves, attempting to sit up. He shifts his legs then grimaces with pain. With you pushing him back into his cot, he finally settles back into a prone position.

“You were hit by two arrows and then lightning. How you managed to keep perched on your wyvern is a miracle. Flayn brought you back. The battle is long over, you need to rest.” You answer his questions before he can ask them.

“I am happy to see you are recovering. Good night, brother.” Flayn calls as she heads out into the night air to her tent.

“Please tell me if you have any pain. I will help you sit up to have something to drink after I heal you further. I can get you anything you need, food, water, just name it.”

“I feel extremely fatigued, like every muscle in my body has been worked to exhaustion,” he quietly answers. “I only felt pain when I tried to move my leg. You have done a wonderful job, thank you.”

“You are a good patient. Let me change the bandages on your leg and then sit you up to have a drink. You should sleep and let the healing take full hold.” Taking your basket of fresh bandages and healing salves you move to the other side of his cot and begin unwrapping his wounds. Cleansing and applying further deep healing to his leg, you wrap it with fresh, clean dressings.

Taking a waterskin in hand, you help him sit up enough to drink nearly two cups of water. You take a handkerchief to dab his lips.

“There was a significant amount of blood loss. Drinking plenty of fluids will help you replenish them. I’ll make sure you eat a high amount of protein tomorrow for breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Seteth whispers as he lies back and closes his eyes. You pat his chest and he takes your hand in his. You are relieved that he is too tired to notice a slight blush on your cheeks.

Seteth awakens in the morning to the smell of bacon and eggs. You carefully help him to sit up.

“Flayn is in the infirmary tent, helping with those she can.” You begin. “They are tearing down camp and we will be headed back to the monastery soon. Do you need me to help you get a change of clothes? You will need new pants, I had to cut the others to get to your injuries. I can send someone to assist you if you prefer.”

“Let me see if I can stand, perhaps I can manage on my own.” Seteth slowly sits himself up and swings his legs off the cot. You reach outside the tent, then turn around and hand him a training lance.

“This should help you keep steady on your feet for now.“ You say while hovering over him as he takes a few cautious steps to the chair next to the table. Once he is seated you make certain he has fresh water to go with his food.

Back at the monastery you currently have four patients in the infirmary. Riding in the back of a wagon did not help their conditions much and it takes considerable time to heal and stabilize them until you feel that they are settled and without pain.

Flayn appears in front of your desk as you document the charts. “Are you finished with the patients?” She asks sweetly.

“For now. I will have someone monitoring them throughout the night and wake me if their conditions worsen.” You answer as you finish making an entry.

“Good!” Flayn takes you by the arm and pulls you down the hallway to Seteth’s office. Pulling you inside, you see the table set for three. The smell of the delicious dinner is heavenly, you’ve not eaten for many hours. Seteth is already seated at the table

“Please excuse me for not standing.” Seteth blushes slightly

You laugh. “I would be angry if you did. You’re keeping the leg propped up. Excellent.” You see that his color is good, he is healing well. You give a huge sigh of relief.

Flayn guides you to the seat next to him and she sits across from her brother. While the meal progresses, Flayn tells her point of view of the battle and how the Professor led them all to victory.

“This is quite a happy surprise. An excellent dinner and amazing company. I could not ask for more. Thank you both for having me.” You look greatly pleased.

“It is the least we could do to thank you for your excellent care,” Seteth assures. “You have been working nonstop since the battle. When you are finished, Flayn will escort you to your room and you will sleep. The healers here have been under your watchful eye and will take good care of the wounded. We need you to take time to care for yourself.”

“Yes. I will sleep and you should as well. I’m sending Flayn back to check on you. If she finds you working at the desk, I’ll run up here and bring a stick with me to chase you out.” You laugh.

Seteth chuckles. “I do not wish to incur your wrath. I promise to head straight for bed after dinner.”

“Should I change your bandages while I am here?” You ask.

“I did not invite you here to work. Flayn will aid me.” He nods to her.

Flayn suddenly interrupts. “I really should get the dishes back to the kitchens, you know how they can be. Perhaps it would be best that she escorts you to your room and check you this evening. This will probably take me a few trips.” Flayn says as she hurriedly stacks the plates, cups, and cutlery together and heads out the door.

“Do you have salves and bandages in your room? Should I pop by the infirmary for some?” You inquire.

“You had best get them. I know Flayn has some in her room, however I am not certain that I have any myself. I will meet you at the stairs, we can go up together.” He answers as he reaches for a cane to keep himself steady.

You observe Seteth as you follow him up the stairs, he is being especially careful and favoring his leg. He unlocks the door to his room on the third floor. You try not to let the curiosity get the best of you. Briefly glancing about, his quarters are pristine. Comfortable and heavy furniture come into view as he lights a candelabra.

“Would you prefer to change your bandages on the couch or your bed.” You ask.

“The bed I suppose,” he sighs as he leads you to his bedroom.

“Do you have a spare towel in the bathroom? I want to make certain nothing gets onto your bedclothes.”

“Of course, there is a basket by the door.” He gestures to the open door.

Retrieving a towel, you return to his side. Seteth is seated on his bed, his back propped by his pillows. His pants are removed from the wounded leg, the other covered by his blanket.

Raising his leg, you carefully place the towel underneath. You observe his grimace out of the corner of your eye.

“Which wound hurts more, the one in your calf or the one in your thigh?”

“The thigh. That one was quite deep,” Seteth answers, slightly gritting his teeth.

Unwrapping both injuries they appear to be healing well, the scarring is pink, not red at the edges, no signs of infection or bleeding. You slightly lift his lower leg, asking him to move his foot different directions. Turning your attention to the healing injury on his thigh you begin pouring faith magic into the muscles, knitting the torn tissue further together bit by bit. Massaging the muscles around the wound you flex his knee. The healing is progressing quite well.

Briefly you glance to his face, his eyes are closed, he appears relaxed. You are blushing again. His muscles are perfect, his thighs well-toned. Taking a deep breath, you pull your brain back into your professional mindset.

“Any other pain? Any lingering tingling from the lightning in your arm?” You softly ask. “You have walked on that leg too much today. Limping around on a cane will cause pain in your hand and arm as well as throwing off your gait and leading to lower back pain. I’ve done what I can today. I would like to treat your thigh injury one more time tomorrow.” You turn away to gather the soiled bandages and cool the steamy thoughts in your head.

“You are worrying too much. I will be fine.” Seteth answers. He sounds sleepy, which is relieving. You make certain he has a glass of water on his nightstand before you leave.

You make your way back downstairs. Flayn is taking the last of the dishes back to the kitchens. You wish her a good night and tell her to fetch you if you are needed. Once she is out of sight you head to the infirmary to check on the patients. The night cleric is relieved to see you, a soldier woke up and fell trying to get out of bed, undoing quite a bit of the work everyone had put into him. A few hours later you leave the heavily sedated patient, hoping they will retain the use of their arm.

The next day you find yourself being scolded by Flayn when she finds your bowl of oatmeal is still half full on your desk and it is already lunchtime. You are too busy working on the soldier’s reinjured shoulder to eat.

“Stop this at once!” Flayn stamps her foot for good measure. I am hereby relieving you of your duty and sentencing you to complete bedrest until tomorrow.

You turn around to argue with her, however two knights are gently taking you by the arms and leading you from the infirmary to your room. As you close your door behind you, you can hear Flayn giving them orders to stand guard and not let you leave until tomorrow morning.

Your head is pounding as you reach for a glass of water. Being told to take your own medicine is quite the bitter pill to swallow. It is reassuring that the soldier should be fine and rest is the best thing for you now.

The next day Flayn apologizes for her mutiny. Instead of being angry with her, you give her a huge hug and thank her for her bravery. You invite her to bake cookies together later, perhaps some ginger snaps, since her brother may like the flavor.

Meeting Flayn in the kitchens she confesses, “Everyone says I am a bad cook. Before the war I cooked a dish so bad only Dimitri and Raphael would eat it.” She pouts.

“It is not that you are bad at cooking. You simply do not understand the why and because of it all.” You explain as you gather and measure the ingredients for the cookies.

“Butter for example.” You begin, “We’re not using it in this recipe, but many times softened butter is an ingredient in cookies. You can’t use cold butter, it won’t mix well with the sugar. If you melt the butter, it will mix with the sugar, however the consistency will be wrong. If you melt the butter too long, it will brown the butter, giving it a completely different taste. Leaving the butter in a slightly warm place for about 30 minutes should soften the butter enough to mix with the sugar and make a fluffy creamy mixture, perfect for many baked goods.”

“So cooking requires the ingredients to be in the correct state as well as quantity.” Flayn nods in understanding.

“Exactly! And you cannot always substitute items in a recipe. If you want to use a plum instead of a peach, that will not cause problems. However, if you use baking soda instead of baking powder, that may make your cookies or cake refuse to rise.”

“But they both are for baking and making it rise.” Flayn frowns.

“Would you substitute mandrake root for arrow root in a potion?” You ask.

“Goodness no! One has healing properties, the other is a poison!” Flayn shudders.

“Both are roots, both are powdered and about the same color. Always use the correct ingredient.” You nod encouragingly. “It is like brewing potions. The right ingredients in the right quantity will make someone sleep peacefully. Too much and they will be in a coma.”

“I am beginning to understand your instruction. One cannot substitute ingredients willy-nilly. You must have knowledge as to how they work together to understand the effects of changing the composition of the baked item.” Flayn smiles widely.

“Once you get the basics, with experience you will be able to change things in the recipe. Let’s go by the recipe today and experiment another time. So did you measure one cup of sugar or one cup of salt here?” You place the bowl in front of her.

“Um. I am uncertain.” Flayn blushes.

“Taste it.” You push the bowl closer to her.

Flayn takes a pinch between her fingers and puts it on her tongue. “Ew! That would have been horrible!” she gasps as she heads to the larder to obtain a cup of sugar, abandoning the cup of salt on the counter.

Later in the afternoon you join Seteth in his office for Angelica tea. You surprise him with a box of the ginger cookies baked earlier.

“Ginger cookies! I have not had one in quite some time.” Seteth eagerly grasps a couple with the tongs, putting them on his plate.

“Flayn made them this morning.” You smile.

Seteth’s smile falls from his face as his eyebrows furrow slightly. He looks back to see that his door is indeed closed. “You do know what her cooking is like, don’t you?” He whispers.

You laugh. “Really Seteth, I was with her the entire time. We had a very productive cooking session. You may be surprised. Go on, take a bite.”

Seteth brings the cookie to his lips as if he has been requested to bite the head off a viper. He stares down at the cookie for a second and sniffs it. It does not smell as if it is burnt. It smells of ginger and sweetness, which is unusual for a cookie baked by Flayn.

Finally, he opens his mouth and takes a bite, silently praying that his teeth do not break off by doing this. Instead, his teeth sink into the slightly soft, slightly chewy, perfectly baked cookie. The ginger mixed with the molasses and other spices meld together in his mouth in the most delightful and rewarding flavors. His eyes open wide as his lips pull into the sweetest smile.

“You are absolutely certain that Flayn made these? They are delicious!” Seteth gasps.

You nod. You are so proud of her right now. You wish she could see the look on Seteth’s face right now. It’s precious.

“I must thank her later. You are a miracle worker.” He reaches forward and takes your hand in his.

Your face feels as if it is on fire as it heats up with a blush. Taking your teacup you try to hide behind it as you watch Seteth reach for another cookie.

The infirmary tent is outside of Fort Merceus. You can hear the battle raging on the fortress above the wall. You’ve just finished treating the wounds of an armored Knight, closing the lance wound to his shoulder. Suddenly things are quiet. You then hear a strange whistling noise followed by an explosion. Rocks rain down from the skies, causing the large tent to collapse around you. Pain overwhelms you as the world suddenly becomes dark.

You jolt into consciousness. Sitting upright you grab your head as it throbs fiercely between your hands. Your fingers feel wet, they are covered with blood.

“Brother! She is awake!” you hear Flayn’s voice next to you. Bleary eyed you look over to her, it is difficult to focus through the pain.

Seteth kneels at the side of the cot, wrapping his arms gently around you. “I thought that we might lose you.”

You manage to reach your right arm toward, your left arm refuses to cooperate. Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself. Your head pounds mercilessly.

“What happened?” Your voice trembling, remembering the last things you saw.

“The Fortress is gone. It is nothing but rubble. Pillars of light came from the skies and caused explosions everywhere. An entire wall crumbled and crushed part of the infirmary. The battle is over, for now.” Seteth’s voice exudes sadness.

You sob uncontrollably into his shoulder. The loss of life must have been great. Slowly the flow of tears subsides.

“Here, you must drink something.” Seteth offers a waterskin.

You drink your fill. Your eyes are more focused now and you notice you are in Seteth’s tent. You open your mouth to speak, his finger covers your lips.

“You need to rest.” Seteth softly says as he holds a potion bottle for you to drink. You smell the bitterness of the sedative. Nodding your head, you drink the contents. He then lays you back on his cot.

You awaken to the sounds of birds chirping and soldiers walking through the camp. This time you are not nearly in as much pain as you were previously. Sitting up, you assess your injuries. Based on the wrappings and pain your left shoulder has been broken. You have multiple contusions on your arms and legs. Feeling your head, your hair has been washed and there are a few spots where cuts are healed.

You watch the tent flap open and Flayn brings two plates of breakfast to set on the table.

“I am glad you are awake. My brother is in the war council meeting. Let me help you walk over here and get something to eat.” Flayn’s smile is soft and encouraging.

As you both eat, she updates you on the status of the camp. The battle was won, then the Fort was attacked. They did lose two clerics and several soldiers when the tent was hit by debris. They repaired the infirmary tent and treatment of the wounded is ongoing. The soldiers are reorganizing, preparing for the march to Enbarr.

“I feel bad for stealing your brother’s bed.” You frown. You are unaccustomed to inconveniencing others, especially your wonderful friends.

“He slept on the floor next to you to make certain you did not wake up and head back to the infirmary.” Flayn giggles.

“He knows me well.” You nod.

“He hovered over you like a mother hen. He was very worried.” Flayn looks at you, her eyes seem to bore into you. “Do you like him?”

“Well, yes, I do. We have been friends for many years.” You answer, deciding that the eggs on your plate are very interesting so you stare at them. They stare back.

“You would make a great couple.” She giggles.

You almost choke on the food you are chewing. Grabbing a drink of water, you take a few gasps of air. “What makes you think that?” Your face is bright red, you can’t look her in the eye.

“I am getting pretty good at noticing these things. When things are difficult, you tend to find someone that you can lean on and support you. Dimitri and Marianne, Felix and Sylvain, Mercedes and Dedue. It is only natural. You and my brother watch out for each other, keep the other from overworking, make sure they eat properly. I think it is inevitable.” She grins and looks quite satisfied with herself.

Your brain goes into overdrive. “I spend a lot of time with you as well. Knitting, cooking, fishing.”

“Yes. However, you do not act romantically toward me, your attitude is more…hmmm,” Flayn puts a finger to her chin. “Motherly.”

“It is true that I am that way toward you. My mother passed not long after giving birth to my youngest brother. Father relied on me to help raise my siblings as I was the oldest. I see so much of my siblings in you. Your naivety, looking at the world through innocent eyes. I feel very protective of you and understand your brother’s concern. I also recognize his attitude of overprotectiveness. You are all he has left.” You pat her hand.

“True. I thank you for your support. He needs to learn and understand that I am no longer a little girl.” Flayn pouts, slightly ruining her ‘I am an adult’ speech.

“Perhaps you should speak with him. Have a heart to heart conversation.” You feel relieved the conversation has shifted to her feelings about her restrictive sibling.

The remainder of your breakfast is quiet. Flayn returns the dishes to the cooks as you slowly make your way to the infirmary tent. Late in the evening you are lying and resting in an empty cot when you hear Seteth’s voice. You sit up as he approaches.

“There is no need to get up.” He apologizes. “I was simply checking on your wellbeing.”

Feeling brave, you reach up to take his hand. “Thank you for helping me. I have been pacing myself and taking frequent breaks. I am very grateful for everything you have done. I am sure you would like to enjoy your privacy and sleep more comfortably.”

Seteth squeezes your hand. “You are not a burden. My door is always open for you. Sleep well.” He smiles as he leaves.

You lie there, overthinking the short exchange. Are you special or simply a good friend? You want to curse Flayn for lighting aflame these thoughts in your head. You eventually drift off to sleep.

Several weeks later you march with the troops back to Garreg Mach. The war is over. Enbarr and the Emperor are defeated. Rhea is rescued and officially appoints Byleth as the new Archbishop. The Knights are busy taking out rogue bands of Imperial troops and bandits, returning to the monastery to be healed and rest up for the next battle.

Seteth is constantly overworking himself along with Byleth as they create the new doctrine for the church. They also communicate with Dimitri by letter, regarding plans for the continent. You find yourself constantly interrupting their meetings, forcing them to break for food or to take a walk to get fresh air.

“I thought we had just stopped for lunch. Is it time for dinner already?” Seteth looks up from the table filled with scattered parchment and books. Byleth doesn’t look up from his writing.

“Yes. Flayn and I have caught some fish and we are having it for dinner. No excuses.” You glare at them sternly. “Join us in the dining hall.” You do not say now, however it is implied and they stop their work quickly.

While eating, Seteth and Byleth attempt to continue their conversation regarding a particular section of doctrine.

“I order both of you to rest. Talk of something not business,” You plead. “I have heard that Dimitri will only work six days a week, taking one day for his mental wellbeing and health. I completely stand behind that mindset. True, there are always some issues that have to be dealt with, however the focus of the day off is to give yourself a break.”

Byleth looks at you as if you have two heads.

“Vessel of the goddess, yeah, yeah.” You frown at them. “You still need to eat, to sleep, and to rest. Keep this up and you’re headed straight for another five year nap. How much work are you going to finish then?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, looking at them smugly.

“She seems quite serious and peremptory. I don’t think we have much of a choice in this.” Seteth acquiesces. “Saucy little woman.” He whispers to his soup.

“What was that?” You snip.

“I said you make a fine spokeswoman.” He quickly shovels more fish into his mouth.

A week later they announce that Sunday shall be a day of rest except for what must absolutely be accomplished. The first week goes quite well. Byleth and Seteth spend much of the day resting in the afternoon sun as they fish in the pond.

They even admit to a renewed spirit as they return to their work the next day, having clearer minds and feeling rested. Things go well until the fourth week.

You are in the infirmary long enough to heal and bandage a burn on Annette’s arm when you cannot help but hear Seteth and Flayn’s very loud and angry voices emitting from his office. Quickly you dismiss Annette, telling her not to utter a single word.

As you approach Seteth’s door, Flayn runs out crying and fleeing to her room upstairs.

Seteth is sitting at his desk, his head in his hands.

“I do not know what has gotten into that child. She simply does not understand that I am trying to protect her.” He groans.

You knock on the door frame. Seteth waves you in and you close the door behind you.

“Apologies. I am sorry you were a witness to our outburst.” He sounds exasperated.

“She has grown to become quite the independent woman.” You disclose. “She has emotionally developed from a child into an adult since I met her all those years ago.”

Seteth groans. “The world is a dangerous place. I only want to keep her safe. Just a few years ago she was kidnapped right under my nose. I cannot let any harm befall her.”

“It hurts. It hurts to let them go. Watching them flee the safe and warm nest you have prepared.” You begin. “Your relationship is like a hand full of sand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze it tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers. You can hold on to some of it, but most of it spills. A relationship should be like sand held loosely, with respect and freedom for the other person, it will remain intact. But hold too tightly, too possessively and the relationship slips away and is gone forever.”

“I cannot lose her.” The tears flow from his eyes.

You come around to his side of the desk and hold him to your chest. “There are two times when parenting is most difficult. When the baby first arrives and when the adult first leaves home.”

“You are not fully aware…” He chokes on his words.

“That you are her father? She has slipped too many times in her speech. I know you love her more than anything. You have raised her as your child, regardless. The thought of her leaving breaks your heart. I know.” You assure him. You had felt like you died a little every time one of your brothers and sisters left the nest.

“I want to take her and flee. Hide deep in the mountains where I can protect her.” He gasps through his tears.

“Have you asked her if that is what she wants? If you take her and run, she may escape, putting herself out alone in the wild and into even greater danger. If you let her remain, surround herself with friends who love and protect her, just as you have, could she be safe? If you part from her angry, will she ever come back? These are things you need to ask yourself.”

“If I did that, I would truly lose her.” He looks at you knowingly.

You nod and hold him as he shudders, his sobs filling the room. You pat his back and shoulders reassuringly. After a few minutes he takes a few cleansing breaths.

“My deepest apologies, I did not mean to bring you in to this.” Seteth obtains a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his tears.

“I am here to help you. To help Flayn too. Both of you can be quite stubborn when you want to be.” You rub circles on his back, continuing to bolster him.

“What should I do now. Where do we go from here?” Seteth looks completely overwhelmed.

“Start with a nice tea together, in a neutral territory. Perhaps on the star terrace? I will check with Byleth and see if that is acceptable. Let her know this is the first of several conversations you will have. It is like any negotiation, discuss the good and the bad. Let her know more details of what you are worrying about. If either of you begin to get upset, step away from the table and calm your mind.”

You pause to let him think for a moment. “Remind her that no matter what, you love her, wanting only the best for her. You want her to understand your concerns. You need to understand her concerns, her dreams, her priorities. Keep communicating. Talk and talk some more.” You hug him tightly then head for the door.

“I cannot thank you enough.” Seteth nods as you smile at him before leaving.

Standing guard at the foot of the stairs to the third floor you sip your tea for a bit then return to knitting. They have been up there talking over tea for over two hours. No doors slamming. No yelling. This is a good sign.

Seteth calls from the top of the stairs, asking you to join them.

Flayn is carrying the tea set into Rhea’s former bedroom. She places it on and end table, then rushes over to give you a hug.

“Thank you.” She quickly whispers before heading down the hall to her chambers.

You walk outside to stand next to Seteth at the balcony. The stars twinkle brightly in the cloudless sky. You look up to him as he stares into the heavens. The air is still and cool now that night has fallen. Patiently you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

“We had a productive conversation.” Seteth begins softly.

You hum in agreement, not wanting to interrupt.

“We spoke of many things. Some good, some bad. All of it necessary. You are correct, she has grown up before my eyes and I could not see it. She is a beautiful young woman.” He speaks slowly, each word tearing apart his heart.

You want to take him in your arms and reassure him, you can see the sadness in his eyes. His precious Flayn must be allowed to be free, and he feels like it is killing him. You settle with leaning against his shoulder with yours.

“She said she worries for me just as much as I for her. She fears that when she leaves, I will shut myself off from the world. I have told her many times that she is my world, that all I do, I do for her. She knows the sacrifices I have made for her sake. She is grateful. But she wants to do things on her own. How to fend for herself. I just—” his voice falters.

Seteth hangs his head low, gripping the balustrade tightly for support. “I am terrified.”

“Let her know you will always be there for her. That you are a place of safety for her, a refuge.” You rub his shoulder as you remain looking skyward.

“Of course, I will take her back, in a heartbeat. There is no doubt. I would bring her where I am without question.” He says with conviction. “The hardest part is to let her go in the first place.”

“She is still here, you have time to mend your hearts. You will always worry for her, she knows this. You have earned that right.” You softly pat his opposite shoulder your arm around his back..

“Thank you for being here.” Seteth turns and hugs you to his chest. You hug him back and stand with him in the cool air, sharing warmth with each other.

Flayn and Seteth have several teatime conversations, adult to adult. One day they decided to take a short holiday together, packing belongings on their wyverns and return several days later.

Seteth works twice as hard to make up for the lost time in his office. You spend time with Flayn as she tells you of her plans. Ignatz and Raphael are going to work as knights for Lorenz who has taken over Gloucester lands from his father. Lorenz is fully employing Ignatz to be ‘a knight that paints’. She will join them in a month’s time. She is in love with Ignatz, however does not want to jump into things too quickly. With her other friends there, she will see how the budding romance goes.

You giggle along with her about her exciting plans, what she wants to do for herself and things she will see. She is quite excited about visiting Derdriu. She’s always loved the ocean and the other coast is just north of the territory.

“What will you be doing now that things are settling down? Do you want to travel or start something new?” Flayn looks at you curiously.

“I’m still recovering from going through the war. I’ve always enjoyed working here. Because Byleth is staying here, friends will come to visit frequently. I am not much of a wanderer, so traveling is out. I don’t want to go north, the snow we have here is plenty.” You think for a moment. “Teaching sounds interesting if they decide to reopen the academy or a regular school. I would like to research some additional healing spells. There are many things to do. Deciding is the hard part.”

“You should think about finding someone special to settle down with.” Flayn smirks.

You nearly spit tea all over yourself. “I..um.” You cough into your napkin and gather your wits. “Unlike some people I know, I do not rush into things.”

“I have watched you pine over him for years.” She laughs.

Looking away from her you wiggle nervously in your chair. “I have no idea what you’re alluding to.”

“You both are so hopeless.” Flayn huffs.

A few days later, Flayn leaves a box outside your door labeled ‘Educational Materials’. You take them in your room then head to the infirmary for work. She has left a box there labeled ‘Medical Supplies’. You open the box and restock the shelves with the gauze and bandages. At the end of the day you return to your room deciding to open the box she has left for you. It is filled with romance novels. How strange. Educational? You think as you open one of the books to peruse through.

Flayn has finished packing her belongings. She distributed a few things around the monastery, leaving enough of her belongings in her room so that she will not have to pack anything when she comes to visit Seteth. The wagon from Gloucester territory has arrived and she watches them load her belongings onto the back. Flayn stands outside the carriage saying her goodbyes.

“Byleth, thank you for accepting me in your class. It began my journey to the independence that I celebrate today.” She gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“I must thank you for everything you have done for me. You have taught me how to cook, amazing fishing techniques and patience. Thank you for everything.” She takes your hands in hers as she gazes your face with a sincere smile. She kisses you on both cheeks, like the adult women of the court say goodbye.

Flayn jumps up and gives Seteth a tight hug. She buries her face in his chest so she cannot see his face.

“I will miss you most of all, brother. I promise to write. I will be safe, you’ll see.” She pauses so that he can kiss her on the forehead, then she turns and quickly enters into the carriage before anyone can see a tear fall from her eyes. The carriage pulls away and she waves out the window with her hand.

Byleth stares as the carriage leaves. “Do you think she will cry?”

“She is bawling her eyes out right now.” You manage to chuckle, trying to hold back your own tears. A sniffle still escapes.

Seteth has moved inside the building, most likely to hide his own tears. You stand next to Byleth, not sure what to do with yourself. Byleth eventually looks over to you.

“I’ll go to the wyvern rookery to make sure he doesn’t try to follow her. You should go talk to him.” Byleth announces as they head out.

Heading up the stairs to the second floor of the faculty building, the trip seems much longer than usual. You have no idea what to say to him. You pause outside his door, praying the goddess gives you the proper words.

“Seteth. May I come in?” Announcing your presence as you knock.

“This is not a good time for conversation.” He answers, not opening the door.

“We don’t have to speak.” You answer. “Please?”

The silence from the other side of the door is deafening. You wait, not moving.

“Enter.”

You enter, seeing him seated at his desk, looking toward the wall. You silently close the door. Approaching Seteth like you would a terrified animal, extending your hand toward him slowly and gently, you touch his shoulder.

He hangs his head and weeps into his chest. You place your head on his shoulder and arms around his back, letting him mourn his loss. His muscles are all tight as he pulls into himself, his body shakes with emotion.

When he has run out of tears, he pulls himself from your embrace. He tries to hide his face, swollen from crying. You reach for a pitcher and pour water onto a cloth, chill it with magic and place it on his forehead and eyes. You tilt his head back to rest it on the back of his chair. Moving behind him you massage his temples and apply healing magic to relieve the headache from crying.

He looks as if he is resting, or at least trying to relax after having tensed his entire body for so long.

“I am always here for you.” You say softly before leaving his office.

You arrange for dinner to be brought to his door. Disappointment crosses your face when you see the food is untouched hours later.

The next morning your rise early to fish, but the fish have no interest. You glance at the windows of Seteth’s office and there is no light. Heading to the infirmary you walk past it and stand outside of his office door. You knock, there is no answer. You attempt to open the door, it is locked.

While treating a cut on a soldier’s arm, Byleth enters the infirmary.

“Have you seen Seteth? He is late for our meeting this morning.” Byleth says, looking concerned.

“No. Perhaps you should check on him?” You offer. “I believe he skipped dinner last night and the cooks said he was not there for breakfast. He did not touch his food at dinner last night as well.”

Byleth frowns and heads for Seteth’s office door. You hear his knocking from inside the infirmary. Soon the hallway is quiet. A few minutes later you hear the tapping of Byleth’s boots walking down the hallway and going up to the third floor.

Putting away the bandages and salves, you jump when Byleth bursts into the infirmary.

“Come quick!” He orders.

Dashing up the stairs you head to Seteth’s room. Byleth is with him in the bedroom, having placed Seteth on his bed. He had found him lying on the floor of the front room.

You quickly assess Seteth’s condition. He has exhausted himself. His eyes are dark and sunken, black lines hang below his eyes. He has probably not been sleeping and certainly has not been eating. You knew he had not been sleeping well, he looked tired yesterday however, today is much worse.

“I can take over from here. Let the infirmary know I am indisposed for a day or so.” You announce as Byleth helps you pull a comfy chair from the parlor next to the bed. You also set a pitcher and two glasses on the nightstand.

“I’ll send dinner up.” Byleth says as he leaves the room.

You check Seteth frequently. He is sleeping soundly. You eat, leaving the dishes outside. He still has not moved. Grabbing a throw blanket, you curl up in the chair, settling in for the night. You leave your hand on top of his, you need to wake if he stirs.

The moonlight shining through the windows gives a bluish glow to the room, the sun has not yet risen, however it will in an hour or so. Seteth begins to stir. He yawns and instinctively reaches to cover his mouth. Just as he moves, you bolt upright in the chair and look at him. He notices you there, bolting upright as he realizes you are in his room.

“What are you doing here.” Seteth huffs.

“I am watching over my patient. Apparently, someone cannot be trusted to take care of themselves properly.” You fold your arms on your chest and give him a glare that could frighten a demonic beast.

Seteth attempts to hide his shame behind his hand, using it to cover his face. “My deepest apologies. My mind has not been in a good place. I have been overwhelmed with grief since before Flayn had even left. I know she is alive and well, but that does not lessen my concern for her.”

“I should write to her and tell her exactly what you have done to yourself as soon as she left.” You scold. “She put me in charge of you, no matter how many times I assured her that you are a grown man and capable of taking care of yourself. I have misjudged you. I am certain she will not be pleased to know she was right.”

You get up and hand him a glass of water. He takes a few sips, placing it on the nightstand. You hand it back to him again pointing to the center of the glass. He drinks half of the contents and looks at you. You nod and he puts the glass down. A few moments pass as you stare at each other.

“Are you hungry? I can run to get you something. Do you have any pain?” Your face softens.

“I will be fine. I think I will lie here and rest for a little while longer.” Seteth takes your hand in his. “You should get some rest as well. You don’t need to stay here and watch an old man sleep.”

“Apparently, I do.” You softly laugh, squeezing his hand and moving over to sit on the bed next to him. “You do not look like an old man. Sometimes you act like one, however when I saw you fighting during the war you were on the front lines along with those young men and you were running circles around them. I’ve seen you wield your lance, you are a force to be reckoned with.” You smile warmly at him.

“Oh? So you have been watching me?” He raises his eyebrows a bit.

“Yes. Watching you fight and fly on your wyvern is breathtaking.” You pause, “You are breathtaking.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you?” Seteth blushes.

Giving him a smile, you whisper, “We have much to discuss. But right now, we are both exhausted. Scoot over, I am not sleeping in that chair one more minute.”

“That is not proper. We shou-“ he gasps.

You lay next to him. “Shhh. Scoot. We are consenting adults who need sleep. I am fully clothed. You are under the covers, I am over them. No different than last night, except I will be comfortable and won’t wake with a pain in my neck.” You snuggle next to him, laying your head on his shoulder and arm across his waist. “Good night.”

Seteth lies there stiffly for a while. Then he heaves a sigh and lays his cheek on the top of your head, drifting off to slee

[cxptain-carol]

𝐢. 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | 𝐟.𝐰.

◊ part one - part two - part three

◊ summary: madam pomfrey’s helper, y/n, doesn’t care for the ever-popular sport that is quidditch. but throw in an injured fred weasley, a week together in the hospital wing, and a sprinkle of innocent flirting and she might just have to change her mind.

◊ pairing: fifth year!fred weasley x fem!reader

◊ word count: 2.3k

◊ warnings: most of the story’s set in the hospital wing (no blood is mentioned), not really a warning but reader is implied to have a female best friend

◊ genre: good ol’ fluff

◊ racially inclusive reader

◊ reader’s house not specified, but makes the most sense in hufflepuff or ravenclaw 

◊ this part includes saturday & sunday

◊ a/n: this is my first time writing something this long but thanks to my being at home for the time being, i got it done. i split it into three parts so it wouldn’t be so overwhelming but i hope you like it! things are crazy in the world right now so here’s some fluff for the soul. stay safe and healthy and do your part to stop spreading germs. (aka, don’t go outside. read fanfics instead.)

“Could you bring these over there? Thank you, dear.” Madam Pomfrey handed you a stack of clean bandages, which you gladly accepted, and motioned towards the cabinet a few beds over. As you crossed the room, you paused for a moment, standing up on the tips of your toes and peering outside at the Quidditch pitch below.

It was a clear blue day, birds soaring past the window and through the sky but you paid them no attention. Above the neatly cut grass, you could make out the green and red blobs that whizzed around the field. Quickly losing interest in the match, you continued on your way to the cabinet and placed the bandages in an unmarked box before adjusting your apron.

While you never cared much for those weekend Quidditch matches, you wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air. Thankfully, the hospital wing had been empty since a fourth year boy was discharged this morning which gave Madam Pomfrey a chance to reorganize. That happened to be one of your favorite things to help with, so you eagerly joined her.

Your friends never failed to poke fun at you for enjoying something as “dreadful” as cleaning, but you didn’t take it seriously: they were always incredibly grateful when they returned to the dormitory to see all of their belongings orderly and in place. The one thing they couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around was your apparent aversion to Quidditch.

Almost consistently, you refused to accompany them and instead hid out in the library with an essay or helped in the hospital wing. Not even them swearing that the game you dubbed “repetitive” was in fact, just their excuse for checking out the players, was enough. You simply stated that you could see them just fine at breakfast and couldn’t be bothered to watch from the crowded stands and under the unforgiving sun.

You had moved on to rearranging bottles in the metal cabinet at the back of the room, stopping only to fix smudged labels and wipe off the shelf.

It was your second year volunteering in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey. At a young age, you noticed that you had a knack for taking care of the people around you and ever since, you hoped to become a Healer at St. Mungo’s. To gain a little experience in the field, you asked to work in the wing and were happily permitted.

There was only one problem, however: you, overloaded with work at almost any given time, couldn’t exactly afford to spend hours tending to patients. That’s why weekends were your favorite.

After a good twenty minutes of smoothing out bed covers and deep-cleaning bedside tables, you heard the loud thundering of a group of students in the hall. Squinting out the doors, you groaned at the quickly approaching mass of crimson-clad Quidditch players.

The team surrounded a hovering stretcher which Madam Pomfrey promptly magicked away after the student was laid down on one of the vacant beds. Too short to see over the team, who had moved to crowd around whoever was laying there, you sighed and resorted to busying yourself with plumping pillows. Almost a second later, your eyes landed on the mess of dirt that the Gryffindors were leaving on the freshly clean floor and you were suddenly very ticked off. The nerve of Quidditch players.

“Oh, relax,” Madam Pomfrey motioned for them to back off—reluctantly, they listened. That was when you noticed that you only saw one Weasley twin standing with the team.

“Can one of you actually tell me what happened?”

The crowd shifted and you could finally see an agitated Fred Weasley who didn’t seem to be in much pain at all.

“It was that git, Lucian Bole. I couldn’t help-”

“They had an altercation and Bole landed on his foot.” Alicia Spinnet cut him off.

After asking a few questions and trying in vain to get the Gryffindors to leave, Madam Pomfrey sighed and turned to you. Following her gaze, the team turned around and looked at you as well.

“Sprained ankle, Y/N dear,” she said with a sigh. “I trust you can take care of it.”

With a wide smile stretched across your face, you nodded. “Of course!”

She turned to the team, looking significantly less pleased.

“Out, out!” She finally snapped. “And you’re tracking dirt all over the floor!”

Once the team had filed out, you listened to Madam Pomfrey’s suggestions and went to the cabinets to grab supplies. Fred sat there silently, so still it almost looked like he was asleep. As gently as possible, you set down your things and tapped him on the shoulder. He opened one eye, looking around before landing on you. You held up the bandage and pointed at his foot.

“May I?” He nodded, looking a little less tense than before.

You gingerly began wrapping his ankle without a word. Talking to patients wasn’t really your forte.

“How come I got the assistant today?” Fred suddenly joked. “How do I know you know what you’re doing?”

He wore a smile now and you could feel the warmth returning to the room. You chuckled, propping his leg up.

“Madam Pomfrey’s been cleaning since dawn-” You were cut off as the doors burst open.

In rushed Professor McGonagall and clutched in her hand was the arm of a nervous-looking Hufflepuff boy who was soaking wet and covered in grass.

Not even bothering to listen in on the story, you waved your wand and the bundle of ice that you had carried over in a bucket was wrapped in a neat little pack that you handed to Fred. With a satisfied smile, you stepped back.

“I don’t see you around much, Y/N. There’s only… what, three classes I can think of that we have together.”

Realizing that he was pursuing a conversation, you sat down beside him and spun around in your swivel chair.

“Yeah, I don’t see Gryffindor too much, but you and your brother on the other hand—well, I don’t think anyone can go a day without running into you two.”

Closing his eyes again, Fred laughed lightly. You cocked your head to one side and eyed him curiously. Only seconds passed before he opened his eyes a sliver and squinted.

“What’s it like working in the hospital wing?” He stared up at the ceiling as he asked you this.

“Exhausting.”

“Why do you do it?”

You sat up a little straighter.

“I’m planning on becoming a Healer.”

Fred nodded.

“Makes sense.”

“But sometimes it’s nice. After class, I just get to come in here and help out. It… it makes me feel better somehow,” you continued. You could tell he was still listening despite the tired look in his eyes.

“That’s nice. It must suck to miss Quidditch though, right?”

You snickered.

“What?” Fred was smiling again, somehow amused by your surprising reaction.

You grinned too, nervously playing with your hands and avoiding his gaze. It was one thing to diss the sport behind closed doors but another to tell it to one of the players.

“Well, I’m not a big Quidditch fan,” you began. “It’s never really interested me.”

Fred looked taken aback.

“How? It’s the best sport there is! Kinda the only sport there is.” You laughed behind your hand.

“I don’t know, my friends are always telling me to watch a match or two, but I don’t see the point. Not to mention, I can’t stand when you guys come rushing in here, making a mess and fussing over the most minor injuries. I thought Gryffindor was bad at first but all the teams do it!”

Fred shook his head. “But don’t you think it’s good to see that? Nothing boosts a genuine camaraderie like one of your own breaking a bone. Or two.”

Once more, you were laughing. You couldn’t explain, Fred was just doing it to you.

Soon enough, you were sent to the Great Hall to bring some lunch for Fred which you did cheerfully, easily sliding into an hour-long conversation over the fresh sandwiches. George stopped by late into the afternoon and that was when you slowly began tidying up the room before clocking out.

Fred, who was now asleep, shivered and turned over, the setting sun in the sky painting him with fiery orange. His already red head seemed to be ablaze.

As you swung your bag over your shoulder and bid Madam Pomfrey farewell, you found your eyes landing on Fred again. There was just something about him that made you feel at ease and for some reason, you couldn’t be happier about getting to spend more time with him.

A small grin tugging on the corners of your lips, you turned away from him and strode out, closing the heavy wooden doors behind you as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

-

“Quick: pumpkin juice or butterbeer?”

Without missing a beat, you replied "Butterbeer."

Fred looked at you curiously.

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who practically bought out pumpkin pasties on the train in September.”

You choked on the water you had been drinking. Wiping the corner of your mouth, you nodded.

“That was me. But pumpkin pasties are different.”

Fred suddenly smiled and you fought the urge to tell him how cute it was.

“You’re really something else, Y/N Y/L/N.”

You were smiling too, but you shyly hid your face behind your hand. He quickly reached out and pushed it away.

“Stop hiding from me!”

Giggling, you adjusted the wrinkled sheet on Fred’s hospital bed. It was quiet in the hospital wing, as usual, but that was somewhat uncommon for Sundays specifically. Students always ended up filling the wing when they had free time to cause trouble but the only other patient was a third year Slytherin who had been playing around with his friends and got hit with a hex.

“Do you see much while you’re working here? It doesn’t seem as hectic as I imagined,” Fred remarked, looking around. You sighed in response, flicking your wand and handing him a fresh bundle of ice.

“The injuries are pretty similar: clumsy kids who messed around with spells, disastrous potion-making failures, and you Quidditch players- oh, but your brother Ron . . . he was here just last week to scrub out bedpans for detention. He sure does curse a lot. I had to use a silencing charm on him because Madam Pomfrey couldn’t stand hearing it.”

You examined Fred as he looked away, chuckling.

“You’re not like that,” you said quietly. “You’re a little more . . . pleasant.”

It became silent between you two. Your eyes shifted to the floor and you twiddled with your fingers, panicking about what you had said.

Interrupting your thoughts, you heard Fred reply in a whisper, “I take it you don’t give compliments often, do you, Y/N?”

You shook your head, raising your gaze to meet his. With one look at his warm brown eyes, you were smiling again. Suddenly remembering one of last week’s patients, your eyes widened and you bounced in your seat.

“You know who else was in here recently,” you said smugly. “Cedric Diggory.”

Fred groaned and turned away from you.

“Don’t worry,” you giggled. “I wasn’t going to fawn over him. You can turn around now.”

He did and you sighed.

“I guess the witches in your life can’t seem to shut up about him, judging by the way you just reacted to me saying his name.” He nodded.

“But y’know, Fred, I don’t really see the appeal.”

“Appeal of what?”

You shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Quidditch players.”

Fred laughed, laying his head back against his propped-up pillows.

“Are you hinting at something, Y/N? Because if you are-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. Smiling to yourself, you tidied up the bedside table and picked up your wand to revive the wilting bouquet of flowers.

“Just simply letting you know,” you added with a smirk.

It felt as if time paused for a moment, you and Fred smiling at each other as the midday sun shone brightly through the large windows. You weren’t even supposed to be here, but here you were, chatting with Fred in the hospital wing instead of doing your Transfiguration homework. It had been hours since you clocked in and since then, you had been discussing every topic under the sun with him as a few students came by for quick visits to ask questions about their peculiar injuries.

Out-of-the-blue, two girls entered but your attention barely shifted away from Fred as you two continued your conversation at a lower volume.

“But personally, I think-”

“Y/N!”

You had been cut off by a slightly irritated-looking Madam Pomfrey who was waving you over. After some quick discussion about the new patients, you began tending to one girl’s headache before she came over again. You stepped away from the girl before Madam Pomfrey spoke.

“Y/N dear, I know it is not my business, but I can’t help but notice that you’ve become quite attached to Mr. Weasley and I’ve never seen you like that with a patient before. Now, I know you’re keeping it professional, but could you stay focused, please? I have a feeling you’ll be spending a lot of time with him this week but I may also need your help, okay dear?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as Madam Pomfrey finished confronting you at the foot of the girl’s bed.

“I promise. Also, I’m… I’m sorry if it seemed like I was being unprofessional today,” you replied nervously. Your fears diminished as a small smile found its way onto Madam Pomfrey’s face.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. You two sounded very sweet with each other,” she said, knowingly.

You wanted to hide your face in your hands, but as Madam Pomfrey walked away, you locked eyes with Fred. The cute little smirk on his face practically spelled out that he had heard it all.

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part VII

Well, I Guess We’re Blood Brothers Now…

Trigger warnings: canon violence/language/gun, alcohol & drug use. Drug overdose. Suggestive/mature content.

Game spoilers!

Bloody Mess warning!

Please enjoy!

  After spending weeks supervising the transport of reconstruction resources between Minutemen settlements, Diamond City and Goodneighbor, Wraith had finally come home to Sanctuary. She had sent MacCready back well ahead of her, in part so his students would actually have him as an instructor.

The derelict warehouses that had previously been home to the Triggermen, were now apartments and offices. The Minutemen and the Railroad (although the latter in secret) were both allotted space and Wraith was happy to have a pad of her own in Goodneighbor.

Hancock had dropped hints that he wanted her to stay with him but she had felt guilty, what with MacCready there. She had the sneaking suspicion that Hancock would have liked both of them to share his temporary home at the Rexford, but Wraith wasn’t ready for that yet. She had an especially rough time controlling “certain feelings” when a shirtless, sweaty and slightly dirty MacCready had helped Hancock carry lumber right past her. The two were grunting with exertion…

Whew! I need to be anyplace else right now! Where is an ice-bucket when you need one!

She didn’t even lie to herself about sending MacCready back to Sanctuary and herself to “anyplace other than Goodneighbor”; the reconstruction of Goodneighbor was her priority and not love triangles.

 After taking a few meetings and a shower, an exhausted Wraith finally flopped onto her bed. Sleep was forever elusive however, and made even more difficult by unsatisfied desires. Masturbation wasn’t something that Wraith even considered normally as she found herself wholly unappealing and couldn’t bring herself to arousal by her own touch. She made an attempt to recall the sensations she felt when MacCready had her pinned to the wall: the way his body, warm and firm, had felt under her hands. His breathless moans… Or the feeling of Hancock’s body pressed against her own… his mouth on hers… the way he tasted and smelled like mint and gun oil and….

“Hey Boss Lady, you in there?” MacCready’s knock made her jump guiltily off of the bed and without thinking she opened her door.  

Her attire consisted of a towel draped around her shoulders and underwear.

MacCready’s eyes grew wide and he blushed, “Uh… um… I was… I want…”

Thankful that the towel covered her breasts, Wraith decided to pretend she was perfectly fine with her predicament, “Yeah? What’s up Mac? Something you needed?”

“I um… Is that men’s underwear?”

“What’s the difference?”

“I guess nothing but um… OKAY!” Shaking his head to gather his thoughts MacCready did his best to continue, “Would you like to come and eat with me? With clothes on?”

“This one of those ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ kinda deals?”

“Wha…”

 Wraith didn’t realize how hungry she had been and MacCready laughed at the way she tore into her food, “Jeez! Are you even chewing? You’re going to choke!”

“Bobby Joe I swear…”

“GAAHHHAAAA! DO NOT CALL ME THAT!”

“No? How ‘bout Big Mac? Mac N’ Cheese? Mac A Roni? Mighty Mac? Mac A Roon? Mac N’ Tosh?”

MacCready was laughing and he flipped mashed carrots at her, “Stop it! You’re ridiculous!”

“I’ll just start calling you ‘The Creedster’.”

“Mungo!”

“You are!” It had been a while since the two of them played like this and Wraith was thoroughly enjoying herself.

“Ugh, I know!”

 After their meal they went and sat on a bench down by the mill. The sun had set and the air was warm and full of the sounds of water cascading to the mill’s wheel. It was a nice moment of rare peace and Wraith sighed in contentment.

“Yeah, you’re right that is the single most impressive mill ever built anywhere.”

Chuckling, Wraith inched closer to him and leaned into his shoulder. To her surprise he stiffened and then abruptly stood up.

“Well, I have an early start tomorrow and so I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight!”  

Running after him would be stupid. What would I even say? “Oh, Mac it’s cool; stuff your feelings for me in a bag and toss em in the river so we can pretend to just be friends.” Or “I’m in the need for some cuddling so let me introduce you to my good friend Mr. Blue-Balls.” I need to have some sort of conversation with both of them… that’s somehow not awkward… UGH!

She sat on the bench, spinning monolog in her head to well past midnight. At some point Dogmeat had joined her and was sprawled across her lap. Although the temperature had become quite cool, his warm presence had enabled her to remain trapped in her mind, endlessly creating and dismissing conversations between she and the two men.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t feel Danse’s approach and jumped a little as the big man came into her peripheral, “Jeez Danse, you startled me!”

“You must be losing your edge if I’m able to sneak up you.”

Wraith chuckled at his gentle ribbing and it turned into a full laugh when she realized that he had Panther draped across his shoulders like a fur stole, “Is that new? It’s very fashionable.”

As Danse dragged his knuckles gently across the top of its head, Panther flexed its great front paws and kneaded the air, chuffing happily. “This is definitely new. He asked to be picked up and it just sort of happened.” Danse had rarely looked happier.

“Well it suits you and I hear black is all the rage these days.” Wraith yawned and she could see the look of concern that crossed his face.

“Have you been out here all night?” As she shrugged noncommittally his tone changed to scolding, “General, your health is important. Whatever is bothering you… I’m not the best at that sort of thing… Maybe Curie…”

“I can’t believe you are back already. Time flies huh? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Wraith was more than happy to flip his argument back at him.

“We got back a couple of hours ago and I had to shower. Curie told me I smelled like the inside of a rotten yao guai. I shudder to think why she would know how that smells.” Danse looked insecure and he shifted his weight, “I tried to go to sleep after but, she…. I…”

“Hmmm. Thinking about Curie thinking about you?”

Danse gave her a panicked look, “Is it that obvious?!”  

Wraith patted the bench next to her. It groaned when he sat down and she wondered at how over encumbered it must have been with the four of them, “Okay Capn’ Danse, tell me everything.”

 In the end Wraith admitted that she had no real advice to give him in matters of love but hearing ones thoughts out loud and having another person as a sounding-board couldn’t hurt. “I know that she likes you…”

“I know that she likes me but she likes most everyone. She even likes MacCready!”

“Ha! Perish the thought!”

“I understand his skill but I honestly don’t know how you put up with him.”

“We can’t help who we fall in love with.” And there it was. Just like that.

Shit! I am in love with both of them! How am I supposed to…? Am I allowed to…? I don’t think I’m tall enough for this ride!

Danse’s look of shock quickly turned into amusement, as if her admittance made all the difference, “Well, there’s probably something good about him then. But I thought that you and Hancock were…”

“Yep, him too.”

“Oh wow! That sounds complicated and frustrating! And here I am fretting about the one person I’m in love with.”

“And she’s right behind you!”

Danse leaped to his feet dislodging Panther and sending the bench toppling over. Wraith laughed from the ground under the pile of animals, “I was joking!”

 Danse and Curie’s return to Sanctuary had been planned to coincide with the beginning of Harvest. Everyone hit pause on whatever their normal tasks were and Wraith was more than happy to throw herself into mind numbing physical labor. Combined with distribution management of crops and continued relief efforts for Goodneighbor, going to sleep actually became much easier for her now that she had obtained peak exhaustion.  The bad dreams still woke her up however and with no one to hold her, she often remained that way.

As Wraith’s fatigue had become increasingly noticeable Curie once again had pushed for use of a sleep aid. “It’s too much Baby Bird; I can’t be knocked out if something were to happen.”

“Madame surely can have a leave of absence, oui?” She and Danse were helping Wraith pick tatos, “I’m sure generals would do this.”

“Well not to sound narcissistic but I’m The General and it’s a bad idea for me to be off work during war time.”

Danse frowned at her from his row, “You don’t mean the Gunners do you? We have that well in hand. You dealt the Triggermen a serious enough blow that I doubt they’ll recover any time soon. Other than raiders, who are we at war with?”

“Factions of the Children of Atom, the Forged, Rust Devils, the L&L Gang, super mutants and not to mention the Commonwealth herself: rad storms, monsters and don’t get me started on the Nor’easters!”

“Like I said, mostly raiders,” Danse laughed, “and you can’t wage war on the weather General!”

“I’m pretty sure she’s tenacious enough to bring Ma Nature to her knees, you feel me?” Hancock was leaning against the wall of a nearby shed, looking smug at their surprised faces.

Curie immediately went to hug him, “Bonjour mon ami! Avez-vous suivi vos estudes?”

“Oui, prof j’ai. Tu es magnifique comme toujours.”

“Et vous etes un flirt sans vergogne!”

Wraith found the variety of emotion that colored Danse’s face as he tried to understand what they were saying perfectly hilarious and when he looked to her for help she shrugged her shoulders, “Ne me regarde pas.”

 “Where’s MacCready? I expected him to see me from the tower and he’d come say ‘hi’.”  As Hancock pumped water so Wraith could wash her hands, he looked around, clearly disappointed.

“Mac has a massive headache from his latest round of implant surgery. He’s up in his room, but I’m sure a visit from you will liven up his day.” Wraith cast a worried look toward the second story of her house, “I can’t imagine being allergic to Med-X.”

MacCready’s class was on break for Harvest and so he had the remainder of his unsalvageable teeth pulled. With powerful Institute technology, Curie had set the metal posts for his new teeth in just a few days. The customary waiting period to set the actual teeth was also unnecessary due to her equipment but without the aid of the powerful pain-killer, he was left with one hell of a migraine.

Hancock frowned as he thought of MacCready in pain, “No wonder he drinks too much.” He motioned to his own left cheek, “You have dirt still.”

Wraith playfully punched his arm while absentmindedly wiping her cheek and completely missing the dirt, ”He drinks too much? You’re one to talk.”

Hancock caught her arm and pulled her to him to seductively lick the smudge from her face, “Mmm… you taste as good as you look.”

“Did you just lick something off of my face?! Hancock! What if it was oil or… or worse?”

“You do know what Jet is made from, right? ‘Sides, I’m pretty sure ghoul drool is a universal solvent.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s water.” She did her best to ignore his look of disappointment as she disentangled herself from his embrace, “Come on, let’s go take Mac some ice.”

 Wraith had hung black-out curtains in MacCready’s apartment in preparation for his surgery. As they opened his bedroom door a beam of light passed over his face and he sat up in his bed. He looked rough: hair mussed, face swollen and eyes filled with pain.

“Oh damn, Little Brother…”

Attempting to smile was a mistake and he winced, which also looked like it hurt, “Hey man… ow…”

Wraith passed him the towel-wrapped bag of ice and his relief was echoed on her face as well, “Don’t try to talk Mac.”

“Can I see?” Hancock groaned sympathetically as MacCready opened his mouth, “Well damn! After this you’re all done then, right?”

“Shesh shaid a couple of dash, and… all shmilesh.” Groaning, he lay back down using his ice-towel as a pillow.

Hancock gave his hand a squeeze and kissed his forehead and then he and Wraith made their way back downstairs, “Damn… How did you talk him into that one?”

Wraith strategically avoided her bedroom door and instead made her way to her office. “He asked me a while back if there was something we could do. Timing was hard but we did a round this summer…” Wraith trailed off remembering why Hancock wouldn’t have known. “I’m surprised to see you here,“ when he frowned she attempted to soften her words, “what with all that’s going on I mean.”

“Well, KL-E-O has a hot tip on some ballistic fiber. She’s grateful to you so figures this one’s free. Fahrenheit told me I was under-foot and suggested I come see if I could be of use to you; if the three of us would want to go collect it. Since MacCready is out of commission for a bit and it’s been a while since you and me got into some trouble, just the two of us… What do ya think?”

Wraith’s eyes lit up, “Yes. Definitely yes. Danse and Curie were just busting my chops about going on leave and I feel that this should count! Besides, we really need that ballistic fiber.”

“I don’t know… ‘snot exactly a vacation. It still seems like you’re working...”

 The duo moved through the lower levels of the building as quietly as possible. From all accounts it had been empty of both raiders and monsters for quite some time but things could change quickly in the Commonwealth. KL-E-O had recommended they proceed with caution regardless of occupants, due to the copious amount of traps.

Most of the basement and first floor was submerged and Hancock had been making little noises of disgust every few steps, “I sure hope this is water…”

They avoided the elevator (that still had power somehow) after only briefly considering it. Standing in front of the doors listening to the button “pling” they had said, in perfect unison, “Booby trapped!”

Wraith held her hand out to him, “Jinx! You owe me some Jet.” Hancock had seemed a little confused but still reached into his coat and passed her the requested chem.

“Do you always put the same stuff in the same pockets?”

Hancock’s face suggested she should have known better than to ask, “Course! You can’t waste time being unorganized. Chem breaks are important!”

 The second floor was dryer and after picking their way past various piles of rubble they found what must have been The Grand Stair, back in the building’s heyday.

“Is it me, or does this place remind you of Faneuil?”

Wraith was looking dejectedly at the staircase, which was lousy with wire traps, “Yeah, but times ten.” As she walked to the foot of the stair a bolt of lightning flashed outside, followed immediately by a ferocious crack of thunder.

The two made eye contact and said, once again in perfect unison, “Ominous!”

This time Hancock called jinx but his request (and his smile) was more suggestive, “You owe me a ‘conversation’ I believe.”

Wraith felt herself get hot, “Oh no! Not here. We start that business we’ll likely blow ourselves up.”

“I don’t mind it a little rough…”

As if to answer him the whole building settled loudly with reverberating creaks and groans that were rather alarming, “Well, that answers that! The wind must have picked up outside. We’d best make this quick.” She removed her pack to pick out the items she would need and became keenly aware of how close Hancock was standing to her. “Um… not to be rude…”

“Oh right! Probably don’t want me looming over you… unless you want some help?”

“Why don’t you go check out the ballroom? If everyone has been avoiding this place there might still be some good stuff around.”

As she busied herself with disarming the explosives, Hancock moved through the rest of the rooms on the second floor checking containers and looking for safes. He found a promising safe/terminal combo and ignoring the computer, deftly picked the lock. The contents were rather disappointing however: $13.00 and a personalized coffee cup that read “World’s Greatest Grandma” that had obviously been painted by a child. “Why the hell would they keep thirteen bucks in a safe? Guns and Bullets cost thirty three and it was just a damn magazine!”

Already bored, he made his way back to the stair to check Wraith’s progress. She was almost to the first landing and was completely focused. After watching her for a minute he suddenly got a bad feeling and almost called out to her but didn’t want to startle her into making an error. “Watching her is making me paranoid, that’s all.”

Moving away he briefly amused himself by cutting the mouth and eyes out of a painting of George Washington (at least he thought it was) that he found in the restroom. Holding it up to his face, he recited his favorite Washington quote to a mirror, “The foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing is a vice so mean and low that every person of sense and character detests and despises it.”  Laughing at the irony of it he turned the painting back around, “I don’t think this was even ol’ Georgie after all.” He tossed the painting aside and wandered into the ballroom, “I wonder if MacCready would find that one funny.”

Pretending to have been announced to a grand masquerade, he elegantly spun round with arms out to either side, ending in a bow to both the east and west wings. The room held no great, obvious treasure however, so he walked along the wall looking at paintings. Making sure Wraith couldn’t hear him from the next room, he proceeded to rehearse a potential conversation much in the same way that she had days before, “Hey sister, I happened to noticed that you didn’t say ‘I love you too’. I know it’s been rough for you and maybe if you’re saying it out-loud you’ll feel like you’re betraying Nate… Naw I don’t think that’s it.”

He noticed the remains of a small private loge and with amazing agility, used the narrow lip of the wainscoting to leap to a tattered banner and swing himself to the railing.

Partially obscured by broken seats was a small safe, “What are you hiding?” It would have most likely been behind a now fallen painting and after picking the lock, Hancock was happy to find a more lucrative return, “Well now, six lighters and a nice .44 plus ammo!”

Packing his pockets with his treasures, imagining the smile on Wraith’s face made him happy. His expression quickly sobered however and righting a chair he flopped down and continued his ruminations, “It’s MacCready isn’t it? That fella… I’d happily jump his bones if I knew that’s what he wanted from me! He’s given me some signs… I can’t tell if that’s what he wants or if that’s what he thinks I want and I know he wants to give me what I want… mmmuUUGGHHRR!” Growling in frustration he crossed his legs and set them up on the railing, “Maybe she loves him too. That’s stupid. I know she loves him too. Maybe that’s it; she thinks she has to choose. Does she? Can I share her? Can I share him?”

He put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, listening to the storm outside, “Would explain why she won’t let me touch her for more than five seconds.” He spent a few blissful moments imagining all the different ways he could touch (and be touched by) both of them.

Then the whole world exploded.

 Moments before, Wraith had finally made it to the first landing. She stretched and went through her pack, looking for a Nuka Cola. She saw the Jet that Hancock had given her first and picked it up, wondering to herself how much faster her task would be if she combined the inhaler with Mentats. As it happened, having the chem half way to her lips may have saved her life.

The forceful winds outside caused the entire building to shift and as the pressure on the support beams changed, it set off a chain reaction of disastrous proportions. She had just enough time to inhale the Jet and grab her pack as the elevator exploded, triggering the rest of the trip-wire traps. She leaped from the landing just as the shockwave hit and she and household shrapnel were flung to the third floor. Spun about in midair, the back of her head slammed into a wall just as she felt something pierce her shoulder. Pain and darkness closed in around her and she knew no more.

 Stunned, Hancock lay immobile under fallen debris. Gaining his senses after a moment, he pushed the rubble away while coughing and calling for Wraith.

There would be no answer.

The ballroom ceiling was mostly gone and what remained was chard and smoking. Exposed to the elements, the fire had guttered and gone out leaving behind the acrid smell of burnt treated lumber and plastic.

“Wraith!” Hancock ignored his own small hurts and ran to the ruin of the Grand Stair, “WRAITH!”

He heard only the sound of the storm and the sizzle of spent flame.

“Please honey… PLEASE ANSWER ME!” He felt hot tears running down his cheeks and he stood motionless, not even knowing where to look, “Please… I just got you back… I just…”

He saw her pack. It was hanging from a pipe above and to his left.

Using all of his strength and agility, he swung and leaped his way to the remains of the third floor. With a mop handle, he hooked her pack off of the pipe and hugged it to his chest, “Please Wraith…”

And then Hancock found her.

His sob of relief quickly turned to one of anguish: she was a mess of blood and her eyes were partially open. Trapped in a small triangular space made from partially collapsed ceiling and the floor, she had been run through by a piece of wood. She looked very dead.

“God no… NOOOOO!” Hancock had to crawl on his hands and knees to get to her. Once there he went to reach for her but was afraid to touch her and so left his hands hovering midway between them.

Then she blinked.

Wraith coughed and a thin line of blood ran from her mouth to drip down her chin, “Hancock… I… have a splinter…”

“You sure do sunshine.”

She strained to lift her head but her eyes widened in pain and she relaxed, “Could you check… my head… make sure my brains are in my head, please.”

He dutifully checked her skull, “I don’t think it’s broken but you’re gonna have one hell of a goose egg.” After injecting her with a stimpak and Med-X, he crawled around to her left side to see how badly she was pinned. Her left arm hung as if it was no longer attached and blood flowed down to drip from her fingers to the floor, “You’re going to bleed out if we can’t get you free.”

“Can you push…?”

“Sister, there ain’t enough Buffout in the world…”

“You’ll have to cut me free.”

Hancock looked at her in horror, “I’m not cutting your arm off!”

“Then cut the splinter. I don’t… have a saw. You use… knife…” Her chin dropped to her chest as she lost consciousness.

“God please don’t let her wake up while I’m doing this.” After taking some Buffout he set his knife to the wooden spike, took a deep breath and began sawing. About midway through, the pain woke her in spite of the Med-X and she gapped wordlessly, her right hand curling and clenching the air. She soon passed out which both worried and relived Hancock.

Normally it would be best to leave the impaling object in to avoid more rapid blood loss. In this case, Hancock’s sawing had expanded the wound and he needed to pull it out and staunch the flow of blood.

He pulled her to a relatively sheltered corner and removed her torso armor. He noticed the dent in her chest plate where the stake first made impact and was surprised that it even penetrated her armored Army fatigues, “The weave should have stopped it…” A terrible thought crossed his mind and instead of attempting to pull her arm free by disrobing her, he brought his knife to bear and simply cut the fabric away from her wound. There was no ballistic weave.  

He was suddenly very angry with her, “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU HAVE BALLISTIC WEAVE?!” Using moonshine as a disinfectant he hastily stitched her up as he cussed her out, “FUCK, WRAITH! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!”

He wrapped her in his coat and using the remains of a fire hose, lowered her to the second floor as carefully as possible. Popping some Buffjet, he cradled her in his arms and ran through the remains of the building and out into the storm.

As Hancock ran, his mind reveled a new horror to him: this was actually all his fault. He remembered the fight he had staged in Dr. Amari’s clinic, especially the part where he accused her of not caring about any of them.

Fahr told me Wraith gave her and Michael ballistic fiber. Wraith has been desperate for that stuff. She… removed her own weave? Yes of course she did! Of course, she cares about everyone! Why, why did I SAY THAT! MacCready’s hat, Nick’s hat, Preston’s hat… oh god… MY HAT!

Stopping briefly, he took more chems then continued running at a brutal pace. The storm began to wane just as the storm in Hancock’s mind reached a crescendo.

ALL YOUR FAULT! ALL YOUR FAULT! ALL YOURS!

At a certain point he became aware that someone was pacing him. In the process of trying to figure out how to fight and save Wraith, he was shocked to see it was Deacon.

“I’ll run interference! Don’t slow down whatever you hear!”

The rest of the race back to Sanctuary was a nightmare for Hancock. His feet were run raw in his boots and his chest burned from lack of air. He could hear occasional sounds of fighting and he knew that he was pushing it too hard with the chems but he could not stop, “I’m saving her even if it kills me!”

The tower guard radioed ahead to Sofie and Curie that they had incoming and so when Hancock crossed through Big Bridge Gate, they were there to run along aside him.

“We need monsieur Garvey! Madam’s blood type is very rare. Send out Cait and Gracie! If Strong is back send him as well.” As Curie worked she called out to Wraith, trying to bring her back to consciousness. “Return to us Madame!”

When MacCready got to the clinic he saw Hancock standing in the doorway, chest heaving, “What happened?” When he didn’t immediately answer, MacCready tore his eyes from Wraith to look at him.

Something was wrong.

Hancock’s eyes were completely glassed and he was drooling. He turned his head to MacCready and reached for him, “Robert…” His eyes rolled to back of his head and he began to violently shake. As he seized he hit MacCready across the face, sending him reeling. Danse had been right behind them and so caught Hancock in his arms to prevent the ghoul from hurting himself.

Complete chaos ensued as everyone was shouting at once and MacCready’s broken nose was streaming blood. “I WILL HAVE QUIET!” Curie’s shout cut through the bedlam like a hot knife. She gave orders to her nurse as well as her extra helpers with a voice full of calm authority, “Now, Williams, you will put the mattress from that gurney there on the floor. Danse you will set Hancock on his side and do not hold his head! No addictol! MacCready there are towels there for your nose and grab charcoal and stimpaks.”

Deacon was the last to arrive, with his face bruised and clothes torn, “I just saw Cait riding Gracie out…”

“Oui. They have gone to The Castle to bring the Colonel; we need his blood.”

“They’ll never make it… Check mine!”

“Monsieur Deacon it is highly unlikely…”

“DAMN IT, CHECK MINE!” He thrust his wrists at her as if begging to be put in handcuffs, “We can’t wait for them, please!”

  It was warm.

Philippa, you can’t stay here.

It was warm and soft and dark.

Philippa… you have to go back now.

 As Wraith swam upward through the dark toward consciousness, she became aware of pain. Her chest and left shoulder hurt but it was the familiar discomfort of the nasal cannula that irritated her the most. The supply tubing chafed her ears and she hated having something in her nose. She would have removed it but her right arm had been strapped to the hospital bed and her left arm was wrapped and held immobile against her torso. Frowning at the various IV lines in her leg and right arm, she was trying to piece together what had happened. Her mind was a fog from pain killers and focusing was hard so she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of Hancock and MacCready as they breathed in their sleep.

Her eyes snapped open when she realized what the sounds meant and she smiled when she saw them. The gurney had been wheeled as close as possible to her bed and both men were lying together. MacCready was flat on his back with one arm extended toward her and the other wrapped around Hancock. The latter was lying completely over the top of MacCready and had his head tucked under his chin.

It was just about the sweetest thing she had seen them do.

MacCready felt her looking at him and woke to return her smile, “Hey Boss Lady. You decided to stay with us after all.”

She cleared her throat before speaking but her voice still came out gravely and raw, “Look at you with your pretty smile! Yeah. I love it here, you know?” She popped her chin at Hancock, “He alright? What happened to your face?”  

“Well… he… kinda broke my nose.” Seeing her eyes widen in alarmed confusion he rushed to explain, “He overdosed to get you here and had a seizure. It wasn’t on purpose. Wrong place, wrong time kinda thing.”

“A seizure?! Is he oaky?!”

“Well he’s still pretty out of it and he kept trying to get to you. Curie wouldn’t let him cause of the tubes and stuff so he…” MacCready’s voice cracked with emotion and he cleared his throat, “He started to cry.” He sniffled a little and swallowed a couple of times, “He uh… he stays calm as long as I hold on to him though.” The tender look he cast toward Hancock made Wraith’s heart hurt and she started to cry. “Oh hey, oh no…” He stretched as far as he could reach without dislodging his ghoul burden and touched her hand, “It’s okay! Jeez you guys! What am I supposed to do with you?”

Hancock made a small, annoyed grunt at being jostled, “You guys mind keeping it down? Some of us are hung-over.”

“And some of us are just hung.” MacCready maneuvered himself out from under the ghoul, “Speaking of bones; you are just about the boniest blanket I’ve ever had!”

“Where you going?”

“I’ve had to pee for forever. I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t unstrap her hand. Curie says the nose thingy has to stay in!” He pointed a stern finger at the both of them as he left the room.

Hancock immediately stood up (rather wobbly) and undid the strap, “…tell ME what to do…” Giving Wraith a kiss after she removed the cannula, he held her hand and gazed at her adoringly, “How high are you right now?”

Wraith giggled as her head swam, “I think I’ll probably pass out in a sec. I kinda need that oxygen. Probably.”

“Probably. You and I are going to have a talk when you’re better.”

“Are you threatening me, John Hancock?”

“Never, sunshine. I’ll put the oxygen back in after you pass out.”

 She heard arguing then vague flashes of Deacon, Preston and Codsworth.

Pain. Pain all over.

 Deacon was humming show tunes.

Opening her eyes she could see that her usable hand was once again strapped to the bed, “Deacon would you free me up? I have to get this thing out of my nose or I’m going to scream!”

“I don’t know… Curie is actually pretty scary when she’s mad!” Despite what he said he still undid the strap. “How do you feel?”

“Lousy. When did you get here?” She pulled the tubing off of her ears and tossed the whole apparatus to the floor. “No offence, but you look kinda rough yourself. Are you alright?”

“Welp, half my blood is now swimming through your reckless veins, so yeah… I’m clinic bound till I grow some more.”

“Ha ha ha! Blood cells don’t swim!” Realizing what he meant she became as serious as her drugged mind would let her, “Well, I guess we’re blood brothers now.” Suddenly sad, her eyes filled with tears, “I put everyone in danger again, didn’t I? Are they mad at me?” Her lip quivered, “Are you mad at me?”

Deacon stood up and took his glasses off. With an internal struggle clear on his face, some part of him lost a battle and he stooped to kiss her forehead. Resting his cheek against hers and putting his arms around her as best he could, he whispered, “Everyone loves you.”

  Thank you for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my Wraith in the Ruins master-link in my bio. Any questions/concerns/comments? My ask is open. Anons too! =^..^=

[djinmer4]

Rasputin’s Model 3/? (Lovecraft AU)

“This is fascinating.  Here, the two of you need to take a glance at this.”  Kitty and Jubilee shared a glance.  They’d come for Jubilee’s follow-up appointment, not to participate in one of Hank’s experiments.  Still, McCoy was definitely one of the saner adults around, it probably wouldn’t hurt to look.

“Beast, what should we be seeing here?” asked Shroud.  The scientist had set up a terrarium in his lab, with about a dozen small plants.

“Do you remember the blood samples I took from you earlier this month Kitty?”

She nodded.  “You said all the tests showed up negative, and that you couldn’t see anything unusual under the microscope.  Just that all the cells had turned black for some reason.”

“Yes, then you told me about Jubilee consuming some in your spar.  Given Ms. Lee’s sudden onset porphyria, I wondered if there might be a causal relationship.  So I exposed some Brassica Rapa to your blood.  Now look.”  Kitty and Jubilee didn’t know what Brassica Rapa was, but they would lay money down that it wasn’t supposed to look dark brown, purple and black with red veins, nor have spikes growing everywhere nor be moving around.  Hank dropped a pair of beetles in, and two of the plants stabbed the insects and dragged them into their pots.

“Despite demonstrating no other alterations than refractive spectrum, your blood has developed mutagenic properties.  I do believe that consuming it has caused Jubilee to evolve a secondary mutation.  Jubilee, you should spend some of your leisure time in the Danger Room, to see what other abilities you are now expressing.”

Kitty turned and walked out of the room.  Beast watched after her, dismayed.  “Kitty is quite good at interpreting my explanations on a regular basis.  Did she not understand this time?”

“Probably better than I did,” said Jubilee.  “But what I got out of it is that I’m turning into a vampire because I swallowed some of her blood, is that right?”

“That’s vastly oversimplifying but essentially correct on the main premises.”

“Right then.  I’ll go talk to her.”  When Jubilee got out, Kitty was right there, on the floor, curled into a little ball with her face smushed against her knees.  The younger Asian girl sat right next to her.  “You know it’s not your fault, right?  I don’t blame you.”

“From the sound of things, you should.  It’s my blood that made you this way.”

“You didn’t even know anything had happened when we sparred.  Just promise me you’ll be more careful where you bleed in the future.”

“I will.”  Kitty looked up at the other.  She hadn’t cried, but Jubilee could tell it had been a near thing.  “We should go back and listen to the rest of Hank’s speech.”

Jubilee helped her up.  “Yeah, I hope he’s got a solution for how to keep this from spreading.  Otherwise, you’re going to end up behind a desk again.”

Piotr had a new canvas this time.  No black paint, no velvet.  This time, it wasn’t going to become a new image of horror.  Something light.  Or maybe holy.  Yes, that was it, he’d paint a cathedral.

He kept to lighter paints, white, gold and ivory, with just a little dark red and black to show the background and the sky.  The stars he didn’t bother to pattern, just letting the white fall where it will.  He also drew a small figure, clearly human, carrying a torch to illuminate the interior details of the cathedral.

“Painting again?  Living on the wild side are we?”  Shroud must have just finished her workout and showered.  Her hair was still damp, but her clothes smelled clean.

“This time I didn’t let my imagination run away with me.  Just man, exploring cathedral at night.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll look.  But if this turns out to be one of your horror scenes, I’m going to have to ask you to stop for a while.”

“Nope, completely innocent.”  Kitty came around and smiled.  “Oh, I don’t recognize anything at all!”

She spent a few minutes admiring the painting, careful not to touch the still wet paint.  But the longer she looked, the less she smiled until she almost seemed fearful.  “Piotr, what type of structure is this supposed to be again?”

“Cathedral?”

“Why does it appear to be made from bodies?”

“какие?”

“Look at the pillars.  Look at the lintel above the door.  They’re all in the shape of people!”

“I don’t- maybe it’s carved like that.  Some houses of God do that!  Or maybe it’s ossuary so people could still be with church!”

“One face is turning away from the light.  Another has eyes open and it’s pupils following.  A third is smiling at it.  I don’t think statues would be carved at just the right angle to react to a torchbearer.”  Now that she had pointed it out, he could see the same things.  And some others- “Is that a tail on the wanderer?”

It was.  A tail and tentacles reaching back and forth from the wanderer to his lighted staff.  Piotr resisted the urge to just throw a bucket of paint on his work.

“I think I should stop painting for a while, Katya.”

“I agree.”

“I don’t know what it is, Paige.”  Beast grasped the younger girl’s hand carefully between his gloved fingers.  “From your description, I thought it was cancer but all the tests came back negative.”

“Is it some sort of parasite maybe?  Something I picked up from our last mission in space?”

“No, the tests state that it’s still your body.  Still your own DNA.”

“If that’s true,” she wailed.  “Then why am I developing tentacles!?!”

“I don’t know.  Did you happen to spar with Kitty before this occurred?”  The blonde shook her head.  She hadn’t seen the other girl since before the mission in Germany went to hell (literally).

“Then all I can recommend is that you cease the use of your mutant ability for now.  You said the blot increases every time you dispense with your epidermis.  Maybe if you discontinue its use, the canker will recess.”

“But I can’t.  I can’t.  I can’t.”  She ended up so hysterical that McCoy had to sedate her.

Scott ignored the whispering.  Careful observation had proved the voices were all in his head.  None of them sounded like the people he lived with, so it was easy to distinguish the paracusia from reality.

The rivers of blood flowing down the walls and the corpses covering the ground were much more difficult to discount.

“Jean a quick scan, please.  Have all of the AIM agents been neutralized and is everyone alright?”

Phoenix raised her hands to her head and closed her eyes for a second.  “McCoy reports few injuries to the students and staff.  Darwin and Marrow each got shot but received First Aid, and the operation to remove the bullet from Marrow was a success.  Darwin has healed himself and is currently assisting in the clean-up.  All other injuries were along the lines of bruises and broken bones, so he says everyone will be as good as new in a few weeks.”

She frowned.  “Most of the AIM agents have been neutralized and are here except for three.  Rogue is bringing an unconscious agent down from the roof, Iceman-”  Someone ran by them, dumping a frozen body on the ground.  “-killed his target.  And Logan is chasing the last one into the woods.”

“Well, let's dump these guys into their van.”  Scott followed words with actions, while Jean assisted with her telekinesis.  Once that was complete, he and Jean followed Logan to pick up the last one.

When they got there, they saw Logan hunched over the body of the AIM operative.  “Jean, do I hear chewing?”

She frowned, then activated up her fiery halo.  “Yeah, I hear it too.  Logan.  Logan!”

No response.

“Wolverine, report!”  Scott’s voice cracked in the air like a whip.

That caused the Canadian to respond.  He dropped the body on the ground, jumped up and turned to face them, giving Scott a professional salute.  “Yes, sir.  At 2000 hours-”

Neither Scott nor Jean heard a word he said.  Instead, they stared at the body Logan had been cradling.  They could clearly see the bite marks, that started at the throat then went down the chest until they reached the torn open belly.  From the ragged hole, the bitten off entrails were also visible.

Jean averted her eyes from their teammate, but Scott kept his gaze on Logan, his hand hovering by his visor.  “Logan, what you just-”

“Logan?  Who’s Logan?”  The genuinely confused look on the shorter man’s face stopped Cyclops words in his throat.

Scott took a deep breath and coughed to regain his composure.  “Jean, have Kitty and Piotr call Yana as soon as we get home.”  The redhead nodded, stunned into silence.

[witchesofmysticfalls]

Friday Night Bites - 2

Apparently Matt and Vicki didn't have the audacity to wake me up (which really wasn’t their faults, I can sleep like no one can) so I had to catch a ride with Bonnie and Elena. Thank God, my car will be done by the end of the day. I'm still dealing with yesterday.

Bonnie parks her car and the three of us get out. I slam the car door a little harder then I meant to. I'm wearing a long sleeved shirt to cover the bandages from yesterday, I didn't want the girls to see it.

"I'm not saying don't date the guy. I'm saying take it slow" I said, fixing my shoulder strap as I get out. "You were the one who said to go for it" Elena says, defending her self.

"And now we're saying take it slow" Bonnie comments as we walk to the school. I had no idea why she was saying that, I mean I had my own reasons but I wonder what reasons Bonnie has.

"Why the about-face?" Elena asks. "It's not the about face. You're single for the first time in your entire high school career. It's the perfect time to play the field" Bonnie says in defense.

"Oh because I'm so that girl. Seriously what are you saying?" Bonnie looks ahead. "It's stupid"

"Bonnie" Elena says stopping her. "Spit it out"

"What?" Elena raises an eyebrow at Bonnie, clearly stating she wants her to come clean. "I accidentally touched Stefan and I got a bad feeling" No kidding, I thought. So I guess this is her reason.

"That it?" Bonnie storms away but Elena is quick and grabs her arm pulling her back. "It was Bad-Bad" "Is this the whole witch mojo again?" I ask, curious.

"You know what, I'm just concerned. This is me expressing concern about my friends new boyfriend" Elena smiled and grabs Bonnie's shoulder and smiles at the two of us.

"And I love you two for it. I really do. But I feel good. It's been a hard year, and I'm staring to kind of feel like thing are getting back to normal. And you know what Stefan is a big part of that" She says defending her actions and Stefan.

Me and Bonnie simply smile. "I'm glad" I said, raising my arms to my hair, pulling it to a ponytail. Bonnie narrows her eyes at my arm.

"Ariel! What happened?" It takes me a moment to realize she's talking about my wrist. I bring my arm back down and pull at the sleeve. "Nothing" I mutter.

"That's not nothing" Elena says, referring to the thick bandages. Bonnie reaches out and grabs my wrist. At the same time she pulls away, her eyes widening in fear.

"What Bonnie?" I ask. She shook her head rapidly. "No nothing. Let's get going" She says and stars marching across the yard. Me and Elena follow in tow.

I'm going to ask her later what the hell she saw. I know she did. "Morning Elena" Stefan says appearing in front of us. Despite the fact that he saved me from Damon, he still makes me jump. He looks over at Bonnie and me with a smile.

"Morning Bonnie. Morning Ariel" I smile lightly, if only for Elena's benefit. "Hey, um, I gotta go find Caroline" Bonnie declares.

I jump at the chance to escape this awkward moment. "I'll go with" "Ariel, Bonnie wait" Elena complains and try's to grab us but we walk away to quickly for her.

……

I'm walking to my homeroom which I have with Bonnie and Stefan when I'm someone grabbed my hand and pulled me into an empty classroom, sorry janitors closet. "What the hell!" I exclaim to the person that dragged me inside. "Its me" The voice says calmly.

"Stefan?" I question in confusion. "Here drink this" He asks of me, holding up a small little cup. Its dark in the janitors closet, with only a little light bulb to shine down on us.

"Why?" I ask cautiously. Does he really wanna make sure I don't say anything by drugging me? "I heard Elena and Bonnie ask about your bandage. If you drink this it'll heal" Stefan promises.

I take the cup shakily, I take a deep breath and drink it. It has a metallic taste. "What is?" I ask feeling like I want to throw up.

"My blood" Yup that does it. I grabbed for the nearest thing which was the clean bucket and threw up my breakfast. Stefan put his hand on my back to help support me.

"Blood?" I ask in surprise when I regain myself. Stefan nods "Vampire blood heals any cut or bruise" I nod shakliy. "Good to know" I stutter. The bell rang and I groan.

"Were late" I open the door and look around the hallway, thankfully it was deserted. The two of us walk out of the Janitors closet and start walking in silence to class. I check my lips and see a red stain so I wipe it off, and look down at my bandage.

I stopped in the middle of the hall and ripped them off. I expected to see blood, two little scars where Damon bite me but I saw nothing. "My god" I breathed out. "Told you" Stefan says, making me smile a little.

We enter class and Ms.Richards warns us not to be late again, Bonnie looks between me and Stefan since he entered right behind me. "Why were you late" She asks. I shake my head, "No reason"

When Ms.Richards had her back turned I shifted in my seat to face bonnie. "What did you see when you touched me?" I asked, referring to earlier.

Bonnie shook her head and looked down at her notebook. "Nothing" I quickly doubled checked Richards back was turned before plucking the pen out of her hand, and clicking it in my hand.

"Bonnie Bennett tell me" I demanded, Bonnie took the pen back and slapped it on the desk. She glanced up and then back at me

"Fine" She took a breath like if she didn't want to relive it.

"I saw darkness, blood, fog, a crow" Her words send chills through me.

"Ms.Donovan eyes on the board" Ms.Richards scolds me, I apologize and turn back in my seat, tapping my pencil against the desk.

…………

I drone out Tanners voice. I just simply couldn't concentrate, knowing what I know. I keep wondering why the vampire let me live.

Why kill my mother? I suppose I'll never know. Not after what Stefan said yesterday night. Stefan.

I also suppose now that Elena and him are I guess dating I'll be seeing him around more. Might as well.

I want to know everything there is about vampires, he's the only one who can tell me. I have a feeling if I ask Zach he'll shut me out like he's been doing since my mother died. I perk my head up at the sound of laughter.

I'm siting away from Elena this time, closer to the window but I have a clear vision point from where I am.

"Civil Rights act?" Tanner asks, directing it to Stefan.

"1964" He respond, quick and with ease.

"John F. Kennedy assassination?" He tires again.

"1963"

I can't say I'm shocked. He probably lived through those time. That's why he's so good at dates, but then again I am too. Zach is a great teacher.

Guess he learns it from Stefan. I watch the exchange. If I had the energy I could probably answer all his question with as much ease as Stefan.

But I'm to tired so instead I simply watch. With every question he asks, he takes a step closer to Stefan desk, it would look intimidating to anyone but Stefan's calm and proceeds to answer each question.

"The battle of Gettysburg"

"1863"

"Korean War"

"1950 to 1953"

Tanner laughs and leans forward. "Ha! It ended in '52" He exclaims, happy he beat Stefan. But I know he's wrong.

Some history teacher.

I raise a hand. "Uh actually sir it was '53" I say, grinning. Stefan turns to me and smiles. I smile back. Tanner stares at the both of us.

"Look it up, somebody" He barks out. Everyone pulls out their phones and start typing away. One kid speaks up. "It was 19..53" The students break out into mummers. Tanner looks angry, if this were a cartoon, we'd surely see smoke coming out of his ears.

…………

"Oh my god your here!" Bonnie exclaims and stands to give Elena a hug. The three of us are in shorts and tank tops for cheerleading.

"Yup, can't be sad girl forever. The only way to get things back to the way they were, are to do things that were" I nod at that and get back to stretching.

Elena sits down and looks at me and Bonnie. "Oh, and two coming to dinner tonight?" "Mm-hmm" I mutter, and arch my back downward across my leg. She smiles.

"You, me, Bonnie and Stefan" I freeze at the sound of his name and so does Bonnie. "You have to give him a chance" Elena said almost scolding.

"besides Ariel you said that dinner at the Salvatore's was nice" Elena says, using my own words against me. "Yeah that was before I met his brother" I point out.

"But tonight's no good" Bonnie complains. Elena tilts her head, not believing her. I quickly speak up to save Bonnie.

"Have you seen Caroline? I've texted her a hundred time" Elena knows what I'm doing and laughs. "Don't change the subject Ariel Donovan. You and Bonnie are going to be there" Elena declares bending down across her leg.

"Fine! We'll go!" I huff, crossing my arms like a defeated child. "Good"

"Seriously where is Caroline!" I ask taking a look around the yard. "I don't know. It's not like her. Try her again" Elena suggests and Bonnie picks her phone up and stars to call her.

"Oh my god" I breath as a blue mustang rolls up to the yard. Caroline is sitting inside. I can't get a good look of the guy till she kisses him.

My heart stops and my breath hitches again. "That must be the mystery guy from the grill" Bonnie says. "That's not a mystery guy" Elena says, eyes not leaving the car.

"That's Damon Salvatore" I finish as we get up. "Salvatore? As in Stefan?" Bonnie asks as we get up. We all look as Caroline gets out.

She's wearing a red top and white shorts, with shades and a scarf. From the car Damon looks at us, tilting his head down so I can see his eyes. I shudder.

"I got the other brother. Hope you don't mind" Caroline says as she passes by us. "Sorry I'm late girls. I, uh, was busy. Alright let's start with the double pike, herkey hurdle"

Caroline states to all us. I keep still and glare at Damon. For the most part he's staring at Elena, when his eyes met mine he smirks and I shudder.

[lupin-shambles]

LIFE IN THE BUNKER {Crack fic}

Life in the bunker is hard… HA! Who are you kidding?

In the middle of Kansas holds the strangest of the strange. You hereby stand and declare your family as Dean, Sam, Gabriel, Lucifer, Crowley, Castiel, Michael and Balthazar. (Any other character can be requested).

What do you guys get up to? Well, well, well… The adventures of the worst mix of people are waiting for you inside.

So why not waste your time reading an absolute piss-take fanfic of Supernatural, it’s not like you have a life, right?

REQUESTS OPEN

TRIGGERS: BANTER AND SOME SWEARING

You slowly peel your eyes open with your guard four walls high. Your ceiling isn’t covered in lamb’s blood so that’s good. What? Your ceiling covered in some supernatural crap would be the most relatively normal thing to happen to you today.

Ever so slowly you slip out of your bed checking for any mouse traps or tight wires, when you are clear you open your door with distance incase the stupid Archangel decided to put a bucket of raw eggs above it… Again.

Poking your head out your door, you look down the hallway to check for anyone, once you are certain it was clear you grabbed your airsoft gun and mini water gun filled with Holy water. You tiptoed into the kitchen, the bunker was eerily quiet for ten o'clock.

You made it to the kitchen safely and made a quick cup of tea, after you boiled it, you filled it up with more water and put a bundle of vinegar in it and blessed it (incase Crowley wanted tea).

Okay, to update you lovely readers on what’s happening, good old Satan declared a prank war on Gabriel. You could have killed him when he told you.

(Wait- I addressed the readers in a reader insert fic?! RIP Fourth wall)

*War 101 flashback*

“Y/N?” Came the nervous voice of Satan.

You groaned, it was one o'clock in the morning. “Unless you’re taking me to Disneyland, go away.”

“Well… Not exactly.” He nervously laughed.

“What did you do Lucifer?” You groaned.

“Please don’t kill me.” He begged with a tiny voice.

You shot up straight and stared at him with intense eyes, “Did you eat my bacon?”

Lucifer sent you a bitch-face. “No.”

You flopped back down on your bed, “Then what?”

He rubbed his neck and let out a nervous laugh, “I need your help.”

“Why?” You mumbled into your pillow uninterested.

“I may have declared a Prank war…” Lucifer said quickly and tensed up.

“YOU DID WHAT?!” You shouted, you grabbed your pillow and started to hit him continuously. “YOU COULD HAVE STARTED ANYTHING, HELL EVEN ARMAGEDDON BUT NOT A FLIPPING PRANK-WAR!” You took a breath before continuing, “FUCK YOU SATAN AND YOUR STUPID HORNS!”

You don’t normally swear, but when you do, it’s normally at the Angels. Let’s just say you needed a new pillow after that.

Although you were angry at him for starting the Prank-war, you teamed up with him, because you and Lucifer made a fine-assed team. It started with just Sam and Gabriel take on you and Lucifer, then Dean jumped in on your team with Cas tagging along. So naturally, Gabriel and Sam got back up, Balthazar and Crowley.

There are boundaries of course, the golden one is MICHAEL. Michael made it very clear on day one, to all of you that he didn’t want the be part of it, and if he gets pranked ‘there will be consequences’. The other two are, you are not allowed meddle with people’s personal appearances, (what’s there to say? Sam likes his hair and Lucifer’s very narcissistic) and no nudity. You threw the nudity one in considering that you are the only female in the bunker.

You all also had a personal boundary each, only one.

“My Craig.” Crowley said.

“My Sweets.” Gabriel said without hesitation.

“My books.” Sam said.

“My baby, anybody touch her I will stab them.” Dean said sternly.

“My wine.” Balthazar said.

“No cages.” Lucifer said, that’s not quite allowed but nobody said anything since you all knew Lucifer was traumatised by cages.

“Um…” Cas hesitated. “Dean.”

You all burst out laughing, “Oh hun, Dean is a person, pick something else.” You said.

“My trenchcoat.” He said.

Everyone turned around and looked at you, “Bacon.”

They all laughed and looked at you as if you were kidding. “I’m serious, touch my bacon, I’ll eat you like bacon.”

“She’s serious.” Lucifer confirmed.

You sat down after placing a whoopee cushion on the seat opposite you.

Gabriel came in with a packet of sweets, before he sat down you pulled out your phone and slyly recorded the archangel sit on the whoopee cushion. He sent you a bitch-face as you giggled like an idiot. Lucifer flew and sat beside you just as the farting noise ceased.

Gabriel pulled it out from underneath him, “Wow Y/N. Is that all you got?”

“Oh I’ve got a lot more hot stuff.” You teased. “Beside, you suck.”

“And you swallow.” Gabriel responded with a smirk

“What can I say? Spitters are quitters.” You fired back.

“Would you like some ice with that burn brother?” Lucifer piped in.

“Enjoy your peace whilst it lasts you two.” Gabriel threatened.

“Oh we will.” You smiled.

“You better fear, afterall you can’t pull a trick out of the trickster.” Gabriel remarked.

“Remember who taught you your tricks Gabriel.” Lucifer warned.

Gabriel stood up, “Oh the student suppressed the master a long time ago Luci.”

With that he left, you took a sip of your tea and spat it straight it out, the tea tasted like rotten eggs. “Gross.”

Lucifer pulled out two megaphones and gave you one with a grin on his face. “For old times sake.” He said with a smirk.

You both snuck into Sam’s room, he was still sleeping since Dean set his alarm to 11am. Although Lucifer had a different type of alarm in mind.

He nodded to you and you both counted down to three before simultaneously screaming into the megaphone.

“GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!”

If anything looked like a startled Moose, it was Sam waking up to hearing those three words. You both burst out laughing but then you stopped once you looked at Sam’s angry face.

You scrambled out into the hall as fast as your legs could take you with Lucifer running behind you. Then you bumped into both Crowley and Gabriel, Gabriel knew that you guys were messing with Sam so froze you both.

“You’re both going to be punished for that.” Gabriel said with a mischievous tone.

“Kinky.” Both you and Lucifer said at the same time causing Crowley to draw a strange face.

You were both dead meat.

You swung from the ceiling next to Lucifer with raw egg, baking soda, and butter dripping down you. You looked at Lucifer who mirrored what you look like.

“What else do you put in cake Sam-squash?” Gabriel teased.

“Flour!” Sam laughed.

They decided to punish you both by stringing you up and throwing the ingredients of cake at you. You sent Lucifer a bitch-face and telepathically communicated with him This is your fault.

Michael walked past with a cup of coffee, “Good morning.” Michael said as if seeing his brother and the female Winchester hanging from both legs descended from the ceiling was the most normal thing to wake up to.

“Michael help us!” You begged.

“No Y/N, you got yourself into this.” He said walking away.

“Dick.” Lucifer remarked.

“I must say Darling, this angle really brings out that fine ass of yours.” Balthazar added with a smirk.

“Oh and this fine ass is going to kick your feathery butt when I get down!” You retorted.

“Of course,” Balthazar said nodding, “And how are you going to get down?”

You sighed, you didn’t have a plan, and neither did Lucifer.

“You are all so dead after this.” Lucifer mumbled childishly.

“Topeka!” You heard your oldest brother, Dean shout.

'Topeka’ was your team’s code warning for airsoft guns. You let your team borrow your airsoft guns, and if you have never been hit by an airsoft bullet, it is the equivalent of a bee sting.

You and Lucifer immediately covered your faces as you heard the sounds of Dean and Castiel fire the air-soft at the opposition causing them to squeal and run away, yelping every time a bullet hit them. Once they were gone you all burst out laughing at the sight of one of the world’s greatest hunters, a thieving angel, the King of hell and an archangel running away from two little guns.

🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕

Once you two were cut down all of your team ate pizza in your room whilst you all discussed a new prank.

“Why don’t we knock them all out and do something to their bedrooms?” Dean suggested.

“How do you purpose we knock out two angels and the King of Rotten?” You asked.

“Well Y/N, it’s called alcohol.” Dean smirked.

“I could see that working on everyone except Gabriel.” Castiel said.

“Rose water.” Lucifer suggested.

“That could work.” Castiel said.

“Okay but after we knock them all out, then what?” Lucifer said.

A smile creeped up on your lips as an idea sprung to mind.

“Okay Y/N, spill the beans, what’s your idea?” Lucifer said.

“My friends, have you ever heard of the cup floor prank?” You smirked.

You explained the prank to them; fill thousands of plastic cups with water and put them next to each other on the floor around the 'victims’ bed.

“That’s brilliant but couldn’t the Angels and Crowley just zap over it?” Dean asked.

“Damn it! I never thought of that!” You said, your genius idea was crushed.

Or was it? You looked over to Lucifer who was sharing a smirk with Castiel.

“What? What is it?” You asked.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking brother?” Castiel said with a tone of amusement.

“I believe I am.” Lucifer responded with a grin.

⚜Time-skip brought to you by poor baby Michael⚜

The plan was simple, get everyone on the opposing team drunk.

You were pretty good at acting, so you pretended you were feeling a little sad so nobody would prank you. Then Castiel suggested to call the pranking off for the rest of the night which Michael gladly agreed to.

“Let’s crack open the beer then!” Dean said.

“I’ll have wine.” Balthazar said zapping a bottle.

“Would you like a glass?” Dean smirked.

“Oh I would love one Dean-o, only you and Cas decided to make a hole in them all.” Balthazar said popping the wine bottle open.

“So are all of you just going to drink considerable quantities of alcohol?” Michael asked staring at us all whilst reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. Charlie popped in a while ago and persuaded Michael to read them all.

“Yes, and I brought rose water for us lovely archangels.” Lucifer said giving Michael and Gabriel a bottle each and keeping one for himself.

Only Lucifer’s was just filled with water not rose water.

“AW man! Good call Lucifer!” Gabriel exclaimed.

Michael looked over to you, “Are you feeling alright Y/N? You are very quiet.”

“I’m fine thanks.” You said, you lifted up the beer bottle to cover your smirk.

“Well if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here.” He smiled.

“Thanks Mike.” You smiled, he was the Grandpa of your wonderfully messed up family.

Gabriel took a sip of the Rose water, “Oh sweet spirits, I haven’t tasted rose water in centuries.” Gabriel sighed happily.

Michael took a sip and he too, smiled contently, “I think the last time I had this was before you fell Lucifer.”

You looked at them with drawn eyebrows, what the heck is so special about that drink?

“I believe the last time I had it was after a battle. We were having a party to celebrate our victory but I don’t remember much.” Castiel said.

“What’s so special about it anyway?” You asked.

“My darling it is the drink of God’s.” Balthazar said. “However tonight I shall drink wine, Rose water is only for celebrations.”

“Really classy Balthazar.” Dean remarked.

“I’ll stick to Scotch.” Crowley said with a bored tone.

“Beer does enough damage.” Sam smirked.

“Well when your liver cries out for beer, got to feed it some!” Dean said taking a swig.

“Your liver cannot cry, Dean.” Castiel piped in.

“Brother, it’s a metaphor.” Gabriel said.

“Can I try?” You said motioning Gabriel’s bottle.

“Sure.” Gabriel said chuckling.

You took a sip out of the bottle, and gave the bottle back to Gabriel. You then gave the angels a doubting glance, “Yeah, that tastes amazing!” You said sarcastically.

Lucifer chuckled, “Humans.”

“Your tastebuds are too weak to perceive the true taste of the Rose water.” Castiel informed.

“We drink and eat things that your tastebuds were not built to comprehend.” Michael said.

“I’m insulted.” You chuckled and took a swig of your beer.

⚜Time-skip brought to you by drunk Gabriel⚜

The plan had worked very effectively, unfortunately you may have had a couple of drinks. You weren’t drunk but you were a little tipsy.

“Hey Luci?” You said dragging out his name.

“Yes Y/N?” He answered.

“Can we go to Disneyland?” You asked.

“No.” Lucifer rolling his eyes.

“But we can get the little cute hats, I’ll be Minnie and you can be Mickey!” You said like an excited child.

“That would suggest we are in a relationship.” He said.

“Get a room you two!” Drunk Gabriel slurred.

“Gabriel could come!” You suggested.

“Hey I’m not saying no to a threesome!” He hiccuped.

Balthazar and Lucifer cringed. “That would be incest.” Balthazar said.

“Tell that to Michael and Lucifer.” He slurred.

“Ew have you two had sex?” Balthazar said.

“No.” Lucifer said with a repugnant tone.

“Michael and Lucifer up a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Balthazar sung like child.

Before he could continue Lucifer punched him clean out.

“No, bad Lucifer!” Sam scowled like he was a dog.

“Gosh, how far are you gone?” Lucifer laughed looking at the drunk Moose.

“You know, I used to think Dean and I had daddy issues.” Sam started to laugh. “You started an apocalypse because you got thrown out!” He started laughing again.

Before Lucifer could even punch Sam, he collapsed and hit the floor.

“Two down, two to go.” Lucifer mumbled.

“I KNOOOOOW YOU, I WALKED WITH YOU ONCE UPPOOOOON A DREAAAAM!” Gabriel started to belt. “I KNOW YOOOOU, THAT LOOK IN YOUR EEEEEYEEES ARE SO FAMILIAR A GLEAM!" 

Castiel cringed as Gabriel hit the high notes with a squeal.

You look over to Crowley who is contemplating his life decisions whilst swirling the Craig around in the glass.

"Crowley are you okay?” You asked.

“Demons… They have no initiative.” He said as he took another swing of his Craig.

“-YOU’LL LOVE ME AT ONCE, THE WAY YOU DID ONCE!” Gabriel sang swaying back and forth with the Rose Water in his hands.

He then tripped up over Sam and fell right over him.

“Hey Sam-squash, you’re so firm have I ever told you that?” Gabriel muttered.

You and Dean looked at each other and burst out laughing, then Gabriel passed out on top of Sam.

The rest of your team then looked at Crowley who was still stirring in his own misery.

“Crowley you should rest.” Castiel said.

Crowley looked up from the orange liquid and glanced at us all and then scowled. “Ballocks. This is another prank isn’t it?”

Castiel walked over and placed his fingers on Crowley’s forehead putting him into a deep slumber.

“Okay Dean go to bed, you’re too drunk.” You said.

“Not saying no to my beauty sleep.” Dean said and stumbled his way back to his bedroom.

“Have you guys put the sigils up?” You asked the Angels.

“Yes.” Castiel said.

They had put sigils up that stop Angels and Demons using their powers in the same room as the sigil.

“Well somebody’s going to have to put the old slacker to bed.” Lucifer said looking at Michael who had long passed out.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road!” You grinned. “Then you and I can go to Disneyland together.” 

“For the last time - NO!” Lucifer exclaimed. 

⚜Another time-skip brought to you by a gay angel and Satan⚜

“A whole new world!” You sang as you placed another two cups down around Sam’s door.

To make the prank easier you dumped Balthazar, Crowley, Sam and Gabriel in the same room.

“Y/N, you are killing me with your Disney songs.” Lucifer complained.

“I just want to go to Disneyland…” You mumbled.

“Oh really? I didn’t know! It’s not like you’ve asked me about 100 times.” Lucifer said sarcastically placing down another four cups.

“I believe she has only asked you 23 times.” Castiel pipped in.

He placed down another seven cups filled with water, he defiantly had the steadiest hands.

“We are doing well guys!” You praised as you looked at your teams effort.

“I would say so too, only about 66 cups to go.” Lucifer chuckled admiring all the cups.

“You really like that number don’t you?” You asked rolling your eyes.

“Of course, it’s my record of orgasms I managed to pull from a woman in one go.” He said.

“Lucifer, the woman would pass out before reaching eleven.” Castiel remarked.

“Ignore him Cas, he’s just being an idiot.” You dismissed.

“Says the one singing Disney songs…” Lucifer responded.

“Hey Luci?” You asked.

“Hmm-hmmm?” He hummed.

“Can we go to Disney Land?” You pleaded.

🔆RISE AND SHINE SAMMY🔆

The morning came swiftly with the noise of chaos.

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY GUYS!” Came the voice of Balthazar.

Your team were in your room as you were all laughing your asses of as the Prank took it’s toll.

“Just zap us over you idiots!” Sam retorted.

“I can’t!” Gabriel responded.

“I’m so done with this shit.” Crowley remarked.

“Why can’t you fly? Has someone clipped your wings?” Sam snapped angrily.

“No cupcake.” Gabriel scowled in response.

“Well, ladies first!” Balthazar chimed and shoved Gabriel and Sam off the bed simultaneously, there was a large crashing noise and a bunch of swearing and cursing.

Lucifer was rolling on the floor cracking up with laughter, whilst Dean was laughing so hard he wasn’t making any noise with Cas observing him with great concern.

You were crying with laughter as you used the door to supported to your shaking form.

“YOU GUYS ARE SO DEAD!” Sam shouted.

“FUCK!” Gabriel cursed. “WHAT THE HELL BALTHAZAR?”

“Thank you Darlings for making a lovely path for -” *THUMP*

Balthazar slipped on a cup and water and fell right back on the floor.

This caused your entire team to laugh even more - which you didn’t think was possible.

✨Don’t try these pranks at home - Kidding, you should totally try them✨

The cup prank was by far the most elaborate but effective prank, your team’s triumph was short lived however, Dean came storming through into the library where you, Sam, Gabriel and Lucifer sat.

He grabbed Gabriel’s collar and scrunched it angrily pulling him up.

“Wow, Dean!” Lucifer said rising to Gabriel’s defence.

They may be on opposing teams for the prank war but Gabriel was still Lucifer’s brother so he was obviously going to defend him when things got violent.

“Why’d you touch my baby?” Dean hissed.

Lucifer yanked Dean off Gabriel and you quickly held Dean back from Lucifer and Gabriel.

“I didn’t touch Castiel.” Gabriel smirked.

“I mean the impala moron!” Dean shouted.

That’s when Lucifer stood beside Dean and you obviously seeing where Dean was coming from.

“Oh, did you like my touch? I think pink is way more your colour.” Gabriel smirked.

“You crossed the boundaries.” Lucifer said.

“Dude, not cool.” You said shaking your head.

“This is war!” Dean sneered.

Unfortunately it all went down hill from there… Dean dunked all of Gabriel’s sweets in the strange mixtures in the lab and Gabriel was sick for two days. Then Crowley locked Lucifer in a cage and once you unlocked Lucifer he grabbed an airsoft gun and emptied every single bullet into Crowley - so Crowley stayed in bed all day covered with bruises. Then Sam decided to eat all your bacon so you ripped out the last chapter of all of his books. You had also been whining to Lucifer about Disney Land… A lot.

And now here you all were… Sheets were draped on the book shelves protecting the books, the tables were flipped providing each team a base in the small Library.

It was chaos, there was a major food fight and everybody was covered head to toe in all kinds of food. As you threw eggs and Gabriel threw tomatoes, all of you were laughing at how ridiculous this was.

Then… Michael zapped in the middle of the Library. Nobody thought twice and launched barrels of food at him. 

It came as a quick thought to you of who you just hit, gulping you dropped your food prepared to run from the oldest archangel. 

Realization seemed to click in everyone else as their face went pale. Then silence fell in the room as Michael’s wings expanded, visibly shaking with anger accompanied by the menacing glow of his blue eyes.

“Fuck.” Dean cursed.

“Hey Y/N?” Lucifer held his hand out to you. “Wanna go to Disney Land?”

You and Lucifer zapped away just in time to miss Michael clicking his finger to string everyone up and taking his sweet revenge.

Hope you enjoyed! Just a little crack fic I wrote because I was bored. I’ve never publicly posted fan fiction so please be gentle. :)

[anotherhopespeak]

Upupupu! Did you see the looks on those kids’ faces when I popped up? Classic! I’m going to have fun with this batch.

(2085 words)

For a long moment, silence reigned in the gymnasium. The students could bring themselves to do nothing expect stare at the little creature at the podium, some with mouths agape, all thoroughly confused. The bear was the only one moving, darting its head back and forth among the faces in the sparse crowd, fixating each of them with two stares: one from the round eye on the white half of his eyes, and one from the crimson gash that passed for an eye on the other half, the black half on which half the face was covered by a pointy-toothed grin.

The silence was finally broken when the bear began to laugh, a snide chortle in that grating voice that had previously been coming out of the speakers, pressing his paws to his belly and shaking with the laughter. His robotic face, despite the default smiling expression being permanently etched onto his features, even seemed to reflect that menacing glee.

“Well, well, well!” the bear said as he finished laughing and wiped a non-existent tear from below his red eye. “Isn’t this a fine welcome for your headmaster! Honestly, you people look like you’ve never seen a bear before! Close your mouths, geniuses, you’ll catch flies.”

Goggles Boy was the first to find his voice again. “H-headmaster?” he spluttered out. “What are you – ?”

“That’s right!” the bear interrupted him, spreading his arms and dipping into a deep bow. “The name’s Monokuma. Monokuma-sensei to you rugrats, or even Monokuma-sama if you’re feeling generous. Don’t worry, blasphemy’s not against any rule in this school.”

Silence for another moment, and then a student started laughing. “Oh man,” Baggy Jeans said through his chuckle. “When this school wants to mess with the underclassmen, they really get creative, don’t they? Don’t think I’ve ever been pranked with a remote-controlled bear toy before.”

Monokuma settled his gaze on the boy. “Who are you calling a toy, Chuckles? Were you not listening before? I’m the headmaster.”

The boy’s comment, though, had already begun to lighten the tension in the room. The students around him relaxed their shoulders or released held breaths, some smiling. One, girl in olive overalls and green pigtails, even joined in the laughing, her hands to her face to smother her giggles. Pink Dress, though, simply rolled her eyes. “Seriously? The most presitigious school in the country starts off its school year with a ceremony led by a teddy bear?”

“Aw, lighten up,” Muscular Blond, who was standing beside her, said, giving her a punch on the arm that earned him a death glare. “Besides, this probably isn’t the ceremony, just some upperclassman prank.”

“So, when’s the real ceremony starting?” asked a girl in a yellow neckerchief and blue bucket head, peering back up at Monokuma.

For a few moments more, the students buzzed about with quiet laughter and mumbled comments about the proceedings so far, while the bear looked on. Then, an enormous bang sounded throughout the gym, making several students jump, and bringing all attention back to the podium that Monokuma had just hit with an enormous gavel.

“That’s better,” he said. His voice was darker now, sharper, more business-like. “Are you people like this with all your headmasters? Just ignore them and talk amongst yourselves while they’re trying to give a speech? If so, I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me, having to put an end to that sort of behavior.”

Bucket Hat stiffened, standing at attention and raising her hand to her forehead in a salute. “Sorry, sir! Won’t happen again!”

Orange Shirt gave her a light shove. “Dude, it’s a teddy bear. You don’t have to salute it.”

“Yeah,” another boy muttered from nearby, whose whole outfit from his sneakers to his beanie was stained with neon splatters of paint. “Wait for the real headmaster to show up.”

“The real headmaster?” Monokuma repeated. “Geez, you people really are slow. Fine, you know what? Don’t take my word for it. You’ve got plenty of time to come to the realization of who’s in charge here. Probably another sixty-some years, if the current stats on life expectancy can be believed.”

Once again the students looked baffled. “What are you talking about?” a brown-haired boy in a sweater covering a white button-down asked.

“Well, we only take the best and the brightest at Hope’s Peak, right?” Monokuma said, cocking his head to the side. “So we’ve got the highest caliber of students in Japan all right here in the same building. Why hang onto them for only a few years? Nah, it makes much more sense to keep you here for the rest of your lives. Say hello to your new home from now until ready for an urn!”

That got a reaction. After a few seconds during which the students wrapped their heads around what they’d just heard, a flood of exclamations broke out, choruses of “What?!” and “Are you fucking kidding me?” and “You’re crazy!” bouncing off the walls of the gymnasium.

Monokuma just laughed again before clambering down off the podium and bouncing onto the floor of the gym. “Aw, don’t get your knickers in a twist! It’s a good life here, you know. We’ve got the budget to keep you people fed and happy until your dying breaths. I mean, sure, the wi-fi’s not great, but I’d say the sacrifice is worth it. Besides, we need you to be cut off from the outside world while you’re here. Keep your minds clear and all, right?”

“When you say ‘cut off from the outside’…” began a freckle-faced girl with her hair in a long, thin braid began, narrowing her eyes.

“Surely you noticed?” Monokuma said, bringing his paws to his cheeks as if in surprise. “I mean, I figured that the metal plates on all the windows in the school would have tipped you off. What, did you think they were just there for decoration?”

Eyes widened throughout the gym at that remark. Most of the students had simply forgotten about the state of the classrooms in which they woke up, but now that he mentioned it, it was suspicious. And it seemed like overkill for a start-of-the-year prank.

“Oh, now you remember, do you? Yep, this school been fortified for your convenience. Bang on the doors and scream all you want, it won’t make a lick of difference. Hey, now, don’t give me that look,” he added, holding up his paws defensively in response to the glares the students were throwing his way. “You people accepted the invitations, and you all walked into the school on your own power. That counts as a permission slip in my book.”

“We – we didn’t sign up for this!” Antenna Headband cried, her voice cracking with fury. “No one wants to stay in this school for life!”

“Well, you raise an excellent point, Ladybug,” Monokuma said, acknowledging her with a little half-bow. “But there’s no need to fret. If you really want to leave the school that badly, I’ve arranged a little loophole in the school rules. I call it ‘graduation’!”

At the students’ questioning looks, he went on. “Don’t worry, people, I’ll give you the run-down on all the school rules in a minute. The gist of them, though, is that as long as you’re within these school walls, you are all to live communally and peacefully with each other. If someone, though, were to elect to wreck that peace, then their gall will be rewarded with graduation for them and them alone!”

“Wreck the peace how?” Ear Guages asked slowly.

Monokuma turned to him, and the stationary fanged grin on the dark half of his face seemed to stretch as his scarlet eye flashed. “Murder, of course!”

His answer was met with a series of gasps and exclamations, but the bear ignored them and plowed on. “You heard me! Slice a throat, bash a skull in, smother ‘em with a pillow, toss ‘em in the oven, feed ‘em to the sharks. I don’t care how it’s done. Just kill, and you get to waltz out of this school with blood on your hands and a spring in your step!”

He dropped his hands behind his back and began rocking innocently back and forth on his heels. “Ooh hoo hoo, look at the faces in this crowd! Is that despair I see? Beautiful! Delicious! I’d take a photo, but I think it’s better to just enjoy the moment.”

“Are… are you serious?” Gatsby Cap asked, whipping his head around to look at the other students as if expecting one of them to suddenly laugh and yell, ‘Psych! I really had you going!’ “This is for real?”

Orange Hair had brought her hands to her temples and begun trembling. “This isn’t funny,” she said, her voice coming out like a whimper. “Stop it. This is an awful prank.”

By this point Monokuma’s laugh was almost familiar, yet it still sent a chill down each student’s spine as it began again and he turned menacingly toward the shaking girl. “Hot damn, are you really as dumb as you look? Wake up and smell the formaldehyde, kiddo! This is no prank! This is your life now! You stay, or you kill; there’s no other option!”

“Hey, knock it off!” Baggy Jeans shouted, hurrying over and shoving the toy away. “You’ve almost made her cry! Seriously, cut the act already!”

Monokuma had fallen to the floor when the boy shoved him, and now was slowly returning to his feet as he turned back to approach the pair. “Act?” he said. His voice was softer than it had been before, and lower. “You still don’t believe me?”

With a snarl, Baggy Jeans brought up his foot and stomped the bear onto the ground. “No. I don’t.”

Monokuma’s eye flashed, really lighting up from within. “Ah, ah, ah,” he chuckled. “Violence against the headmaster is forbidden. But, you know, you haven’t looked at the rules yet. I suppose this once, I can let you off with just a warning. You ready?”

“Ready for – ?” the boy began, but was cut off when, all off a sudden, sparks shot from the toy. Tiny thread of lightning made their way up his leg and surrounded his whole frame. He screamed, muscles frozen stiffly in place as the electricity flooded him. It lasted only a few seconds, but to him and the witnessing students, it seemed hours. When it finally stopped, he collapsed to the floor, breathing hard and clutching his middle.

The students all stared, aghast, both at the boy, and the bear, which seemed to have fried itself out despite still shooting out buzzes of blue sparks.

“And that,” came the voice of Monokuma from the podium, “was a warning. Be grateful I didn’t punish you for real, kid! Next time I won’t be so nice.”

Every head turned toward the stage, where a new Monokuma stood at the podium, the burnt-out husk of the previous bear discarded and forgotten. He continued speaking as casually as if nothing had happened. “Best you guys take a look at those school rules as soon as the ceremony’s ended. I’ve got eyes in every inch of the school, so I’ll know when you break one. I believe now we can forget this foolish idea that this is some sort of joke?”

He reached from under the podium and pulled out a wallet-sized device that looked like a sleek, thin touch-phone. “Don’t worry, I made it easy for you. A quick examination of your pockets will yield one of these bad boys – your Student ID. Got everything you need: school rules, school map, identification. Top-of-the-line and totally indestructible! Don’t say I never did anything nice for you!”

The bear put the device away as the students curiously dug out their own, surprised to find that the IDs had made it into their pockets without their noticing.

Monokuma watched them all, satisfied that, at the very least, they now knew that they were in this for real, and must be taking it at least a little bit seriously. “Well!” He clapped his paws together. “I think I’ve said everything I need to! This welcoming ceremony has now come to a close. Feel free to peruse those rules at your leisure, and remember, I’ll be watching! Enjoy your stay at Hope’s Peak Academy!”

With that, he dipped into a bow, disappearing behind the pedestal, his laughter echoing throughout the gym even after he was gone.

[martywurst]

My First and Worst Year: Open Mic Hell

It can be pretty lonely going to an open mic when you’re starting out, especially if none of your friends are comedians. I missed the boat when a wave of my friends had just quit a year prior. I think they were just depressed by the overall experience or had moved on to better things. Eventually, I ran into a couple of people that I knew, but we didn’t hit all the same mics.

You venture out to these open mics, sign up on a list or throw your name in a bucket for a lottery draw. Echoes Under Sunset was typically swamped with 40-50 comedians. If I was way down the list, it could be hours before I got up. Then by the time it was my turn I might have an audience of 2 because everyone either bounced to other mics, or were just hanging out in the other room, charging their phones and socializing. I’d marvel at comedians that dropped in and were immediately put up. What the fuck? Why do these motherfuckers just get to go up and bounce immediately after? I've been waiting for 2 hours!

It made my blood boil.

Sometimes I'd go to an open mic early and the host would show up with the list. Then I'd go to sign up and there would be 10 people on the list already! What the FUCK?

All part of the game. This would happen for a number of reasons. People are texting the host for an early sign up- friends hook friends up, especially when everyone's trying to hit 3-4 mics a night. Or maybe it's a comic with a higher status- someone who's been in the game longer, so they get the respect and are granted "pop-ins". A few of those comedians would drop in and then shit on the venue in their set. Like it was beneath them to do that open mic.

Occasionally I'd luck out, get up early, and see a lot of comics in the audience...looking down at their phones, not supporting at all. Maybe just frozen in a grimace. I realized that all of this was just part of the grind. I think it's personal, but it's not. I'm just not funny.

Some mics feel like cliques, where the support isn't there unless I'm already in their circle. More than likely, I just suck!

 Comedians in the open mic scene have witnessed the same cliches pass through a million times. The young cocky guys that want to be shocking. The misogyny. White guys that think they can drop the N-word because their favorite comedian did it. Comedians that can't take the silence so they start screaming at the audience. And not at other comics, they're screaming at customers- just innocent people that happen to be there.

I saw a comic walk up to someone who was studying and scream in his ear. Just some student who didn't care that an open mic was going on because it was a fucking coffee shop. Lot of these open mics are in random places and customers might feel like they're being held hostage. I saw a young comic scream at an elderly man to suck his dick. Others have called audience members cunts. Long sets devoid of jokes.

Familiar topics range from:

1. Fat women should be grateful that I want to fuck them!

2. Midgets are ridiculous.

3. Homeless people are gross.

4. I'm fine with gay people, (my cousin is gay) as long as they don't try to fuck me in the ass.

5. Rape, molestation, 9/11, Hitler, and incest.

6. Passive aggressive rant about (insert race here)

7. Bitches be crazy.

8. A woman having her period (a disgusted man's perspective)

9. Asians are bad drivers. (occasionally told by a comic of Asian descent)

10. Dude, that's so gay.

11. Hitting women.

12. Aids. (very popular)

One of my favorite segues was at Rockpaper Coffee- a mic where the darkest of souls would gather to charge their phones. This dude named Glenn just said horrible stuff about women for a few minutes and then he transitions with,

"I just want a girlfriend."

I remember there was an avant-garde asshole at The Palace. We'd perform upstairs in this Chinese restaurant (it's still going) and this one dude starts yelling down at a family that's just trying to celebrate their kid's birthday party. The comic is doing this violent hacking cough, flailing his arms, jumping into the wall behind him, and leaning over the balcony to yell at the party. He picks up a potted plant and all this soil spills out over the floor. It might sound hilarious as I'm describing it, but nobody was laughing. The host was livid. Of course he leaves without helping to clean up. One of those real artistic performers.

I change my mind, that guy was fucking brilliant. I think his name was Crispin Glover.

That's the thing, I end up meeting people that respect those kind of performers immensely and I have to question my judgement all over again.

Oh, I see, he's emulating unfunny incarnate, I just didn't get it!

I've seen so many long, ranting monologues. There's never a shortage. I'm so depressed. I want to kill myself. Comics shitting on everything they're not. Shitting on religion just because. Comedians rolling around on the stage, screaming, doing their version of an uncomfortable Andy Kaufman set. I subjected my girlfriend to a few of these mics.

I've become a little desensitized to the appalling behavior and just come to accept it. Most of these morons will be gone in a year or two, or they'll change their strategy from attacking the audience to writing actual jokes.

I'm friends with comics that have done these things. That's on me. I have conflicting emotions because you meet really nice people that have done awful things on stage. You should be able to express yourself at an open mic right? Maybe they just needed to get that shit out. I've definitely embarrassed myself countless times, but I firmly believe that I sink by myself. I hate comics that attack the audience because they can't handle their bombing.

With that said, I'm sure I'm due for a meltdown in the future.

Besides, that last bit killed at Flappers, so fuuuuuuuuuuck you pregnant lady, your unborn child's a cunt!

...sorry about that.

This might cheer you up, here's a picture of Jared Levin playing to a totally empty room!

 So I would spend hours trying to get up at various places. Sometimes there's a drink minimum. Maybe a $5 entry fee. Some mics are absolutely free. Average 3 minute sets. Some were 4-5. At Marty's you could do 20 or more. That's not necessarily a good thing.

To add to the insanity I'd see these crazy people getting on stage.

They're clearly not serious about doing comedy, and now they're robbing me of stage time! Motherfucker.

I took it really personally. Anyone who didn't seem to care about stand-up just got under my skin. I was taking the metro blue line to the red line from Long Beach up to Hollywood, which would take anywhere from 90 minutes to 2 hours. Then I would wait around for an hour or two to MAYBE go up (lottery draw, mixed with drop-ins and employees) and then some careless fuckhead employee at the Improv automatically gets to go up? They didn't even write any shit! They even said it three time during their set,

"I didn't write anything."

GREAT! Now there's this ancient vaudeville fuck doing his act from the 1940's. He's getting out the shoe polish....DEAR GOD.

I actually heard a Tammy Faye Baker and Monica Lewinsky joke- I couldn't believe it.

It's just one of those things, there's certain people you only see at certain open mics over and over- like The Laugh Factory, The Comedy Store, or The Ice House. Same weirdos popping up. A woman singing some horrible song and rambling incoherently about her life story. The dude with the huge sombrero that kept clearing his throat and fucking with his phone during everyone else's set. There was also a conspiracy theory guy that would bring charts on stage.

Most of the hosts just embrace these people. Just give them their time and move on. Maybe these mics are keeping them from doing something worse. Or maybe it's keeping them alive. Pretty dramatic, but who the fuck knows.

One guy showed up to The Ice House to battle his fear of public speaking. He would break down and cry almost every set.

Some open mics encourage feedback from other comics after your set. It's a great idea that a lot of people take advantage of. I was never crazy about it because I'm stubborn and I hate most comic's material, so why would I want their input? I do like technical notes about what I'm doing on stage, but I'm a stickler for what's written. No one can improve my 9/11 dick joke, it's the best one clearly.

Then I found myself giving unwarranted advice to comics that didn't ask for it. Jesus Marty, you're barely a year in. What the fuck do you possibly have to offer?

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. I gradually made friends. It took awhile. I struggle to be myself in front of other comics to this day because I care too fucking much. I come off like a phony and I know it, but I'm trying to let it all go. No one is thinking about me! They're probably thinking, well that guy sucked, or not this piece of shit again, but that's probably it. They're worried about their set.

The Comedy Store patio mic was instrumental in finding my voice a bit. Very thankful to Josh Martin for hosting it. It was the 50-yard line for an open mic week. Wednesdays AND Thursdays at 4pm, which is really early for a week day mic. It left me plenty of time to hit some more mics at 6 or 7pm. When I was taking the bus everywhere, it meant a lot to get those two guaranteed mics in every week. I started to loosen up because of this place. I felt a camaraderie here. I really bonded with some good people.

There were so many distractions- the street noise alone. Every few minutes, a bus would pull over to take pictures. TMZ and Rasta buses. Double decker buses. Just a bunch of tourists on vacation getting bombarded with worthless information about The Comedy Store and now they were staring at us. So we would try to make something of that moment. Or I might just say something lame, lose my place and never recover. Some comics screamed at them. We'd hear the occasional request of,

"Tell us a joke!"

One time I took the challenge and told a quick joke to a bunch of tourists on a bus and got the laugh. That felt like the accomplishment of the year for me- Sean K. was just clowning on how I was gonna choke and then under the gun I got the laugh.

One time a bunch of dudes in a party bus asked a comedian to hop in for a ride.

He did. We never saw him again.

PJ Stansbury would wander into the mic, drinking PBR and promptly shit on everybody during his set. He's what most moms would call a "potty-mouthed troll." I had no idea he was a paid regular. This guy was spewing so much toxic bile I was stunned to know his name was on the fucking wall. First impressions man. They never last. Now he's just a potty-mouthed troll that I happen to like.

Pauly Shore would occasionally pull into the driveway to do business at the Store and give us a wave.

Sometimes pedestrians would participate in the madness. They could hear us from the street, so they'd yell shit out as they walked by. Heckling would take place too, or on a couple of occasions a shouting match. It was always fun to see people stop in their tracks and then actually come in for a few minutes to watch. The bar was open after all.

That particular mic was a great training ground and there was just something about that energy outside on Sunset Blvd.

There were the audition mics like Flappers, that could lead to an audition, which would lead to those bringer-type shows.

Or you could stand outside the Laugh Factory for a few hours and sign up to perform the following week! Also an audition type scenario that could lead to longer sets and showcase consideration... don't hold your breath.

Always a sober moment when some beautiful person in a fancy car rolls down their window to question the line of 15 comics, standing outside the Laugh Factory.

"Who are you waiting for, what comedian?"

"No, we're waiting to sign up- WE'RE the comedians."

"Oh." (sympathetic wave, drives off)

Some of the comedians are in lawn chairs. One guy is eating a sandwich from the deli next door. An old man is talking our ear off about his "comedy career" back in the day. They cut the line at 15, but the 16th person is waiting anyway- just in case. They're going to be disappointed. No exceptions.

I'd sit around, try to write a joke for a minute and then give up. Someone would start a conversation with me. Or hand me their dog for this picture.

That's the only good thing I really have to say about standing outside the Laugh Factory. I meet good people. I won't meet the owner, Jamie Masada. At least, not any time soon. He's in the Bahamas or something. Which is a good thing, I'm still terrible. He was there once out of the 7 times I've done it. so I eventually grew bored and got involved with other things.

I'll end this entry with another painful artifact. I can't bring myself to watch this again, but I'll post it.

I was interested in the Flappers podcast, the "FlappCast" because the owners/hosts had on a lot of comedians that I knew. Anyone could do a short set. Plus they booked some pretty good guests to sit in and give feedback. Very much like the KillTony podcast except nothing funny happens. 

I take that back, GT's appearance, which I must hunt down. They were so shocked by his performance. Nothing like an eccentric, hated, ticking time-bomb comic to blow the lid off an unsuspecting room.

So I found out how to sign up and made a fool of myself. I remember being so disappointed that they didn't get me. That I was doing these outlandish bits; an over-the-top impression that couldn't be serious. An over-the-top story that couldn't be true. When I talked to them I felt like they hadn't even listened to me.

Not that any of my material was good, my shirt alone sealed my doom.

to be continued...