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sunflowerdarlingx · 4 years ago

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Fred Weasley - “I need you” 2

Hi I hope everyone is okay!

This is part two of my previous Fred imagine. Part one!

Please let me know what you think, part 3 is coming and will be filled with smut.

Female Reader

Warnings: talk of sex but only a few sentences. Minors DNI

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Three weeks and four days, that’s how long it had been since the war ended. The first few days were spent together, locked away from the rest of the world. Y/N’s parents visited the burrow every day for the first two weeks, now they were back to writing to each other regularly.

Every night, Fred and Y/N would sit outside together under the stars, they had been working on building their relationship. Each night held new conversations about their relationships, discussing old memories, worries, solutions and even planning their future. Fred has always put his maximum effort into everything he does and fixing their relationship was no different.

The time came about a week and a half after the war where Fred introduced date nights, they would happen every Thursday and at least one other night a week. He said having one night dedicated to them every week would make sure that they would have time to talk, no matter what was going on or how busy life got.

Every date he planned was planned with care, he recreated some of their first dates from school, he always made sure they would talk about their feelings like worries and fear (the two main factors in the downfall of their previous relationship) and Fred was not going to let it happen again.

Fred and George decided that they were going to move back to their flat, they wouldn’t open the shop for another while, but they needed to get back to their own space. They wanted to plan a grand re-opening for when things returned to, well, normal. The first night back at the flat Fred had asked Y/N to be ‘officially’ his again and of course Y/N couldn’t say no. She could see how hard Fred was trying, from his creative date nights, to the little notes left around the burrow reminding her of how much he loved her, from the constant cuddles and soft kisses to photos of all their favourite times together popping up around the house.

These cute reminders never stopped when they moved back to the flat, Y/N realised Fred needed the reminders too, so she started doing the same, writing little notes on the mirror just before Fred got out of the shower, or waking up early enough to make him breakfast before he went to the shop to work on some new products with George.

Each morning Fred woke up, he couldn’t be more thankful, his family were safe, and he finally had the girl he loved back in his arms.

It had now been six weeks since the end of the war and Fred and George were working towards their re-opening. Every morning Fred and Y/N would usually wake up together, Y/N making breakfast whilst Fred got ready, but on this particular morning Fred was the only one up, deciding to let Y/N sleep, he grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote her a little note.

Morning cutie,

I’m down in the shop with George, you looked so beautiful sleeping I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.

I’ve asked George to let us have the flat tonight, so he is going to go and stay with mum and everyone at the burrow. I thought we could cook dinner together, like we use to when we were at home during the summer, only if you are up for it of course. If not, we can go out or order in – your choice.

Come and see me when you wake up, I missed getting my good morning kiss and our usual breakfast date :( and you can let me know what you think about tonight ;)

I love you,

Oh, and there is a little croissant in the kitchen with your name on it <3

Freddie x

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she read Fred’s note, pulling herself out of bed, she had her breakfast made her way down to the shop. She walked into the storeroom and was greeted by a smiling Fred, “where's George?”.

“Away out with Ange, you just missed him babe”, Y/N made her way over to Fred and he pulled her down into his lap. Y/N buried her head in his neck, Fred placed a few kisses on the side of her head before clearing his throat “So, what do you think about tonight?”, he could feel Y/N smile into his neck, “I think we should cook; it's been a while since we’ve done it together. When you’re all done here, we can go to the shops, sound good?”, “Sounds perfect love, I just need to finish this paperwork and then we can go. I might need you to help me with the muggle money, I still don’t understand it.” this caused Y/N to let out a giggle.

Y/N kissed him quickly before heading to the door “I better go get ready then...and I’ll make sure I’ve got the right purse” with a wink she was off back to the apartment.

As she was stood having a quick shower, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander, as happy as she was with her relationship, she missed the intimate nights her and Fred had. She couldn’t give herself the same pleasure as Fred did. It hadn’t been something they discussed, Fred was worried that Y/N would get the wrong idea about them getting back together and well, Y/N’s insecurity of not being good enough resurfaced. It was all she could think about as she got ready, the long nights of passion, the quick rushed fun during the day or the countless times they were interrupted at the burrow by the fear of getting caught.

Deciding tonight was going to be the night to take their relationship that one step forward in getting back to normality, Y/N decided she would slip away whilst shopping to find herself a new lingerie set. Once dressed she made her way back downstairs, greeted by Fred who then apparated them to a small alley in London.

Fred decided he wanted pasta, so they made their way around the market getting all the ingredients they needed. “I have an idea Freddie” they were walking hand in hand down a cobble path towards the fruit and veg stalls, “oh yea?” he questioned as he tugged her towards him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Why don’t we dress up for date night? Something fancy” Y/N stares up at him through her big doe eyes, “we can both go look for something new and then grab a bottle of wine before going back home”. Fred is captured by her beauty, the way her eyes beam in the sun, “if that’s what you want love then, that’s what we will do. Will you help me pay though?”, Y/N lets out a little snort as she laughs and Fred chuckles too. “Dork” he teases as Y/N whacks his arm.

Y/N is able to convince Fred to wait outside whilst she shops, grabbing a few different underwear sets and a plain black dress she makes her way to the changing room. After trying it all on she decides on a nice matching red lace set, keeping it simple and a beautiful black dress that highlights all the right places on her body. She pays quickly and meets Fred outside.

He is stood writing in his little book, he looks up briefly and spots Y/N, “Godric you took your time, did you buy the whole shop?” Y/N giggles and shakes her head “guess you’ll find out when we are home” she winks, Fred reaches for the bag to take a peek and Y/N throws it in her bag. “Good luck trying to find that with muggles around”, Fred groans as they make their way into the next shop. Once they’ve gotten Fred a new shirt and jeans, they grab a bottle of wine and head home.

Whilst Y/N gets ready, Fred cleans the flat and sets the table, he heads into Diagon Ally and gets a beautiful bunch of sunflowers for the table. Y/N looks gorgeous, her hair falls beautifully down her back and her make up is done just the way she likes it, she radiated confidence and once she had her dress on, she looked incredible. Fred came into the room just as Y/N was putting on lipstick and his jaw practically hit the floor.

“Wow...” Y/N turned in her seat and Fred couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over her body, she looked breathtakingly beautiful, “baby you look...wow” Y/N couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. She stood up walking towards him, “is it too much?” she asked worriedly, giving him a 360 turn.

“You’re perfect”, Freds grin was stretched from ear to ear “I’m just quickly going to shower... don’t go anywhere, don’t need anyone stealing you off me...I’ll be right back just...just stay right here” he rushed around the room grabbing everything he needed, tripping over his bed and his own feet due to the fact he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Y/N chuckles and finishes getting ready, spraying some perfume and putting on some earrings and her necklace.

She stands in front of the mirror, pleased with her work, when something catches her eye. In a small tray beside Freds mirror was the ring he gave her all those years ago, the tray was covered in dust, but the ring shone beautifully. Y/N picked it up, holding it between her thumb and pointer finger, twirling it slightly before placing it back on her finger, it felt right having it on after all this time. She heard the shower stop and looked down to her hand, I wonder if he will notice. Deciding to keep it on she took her seat on the bed again.

Fred came booming out, his towel wrapped around his waist, just below his V-line, the sight causing Y/N to heat up slightly. Of course, she had seen Fred like this since they got back together, and the sight was one she always enjoyed but tonight it filled her with a need so strong that she would have dropped her knickers there and then if Fred asked her too.

“Careful love, you’re drooling” Fred winked at her as he got dressed. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “you wish Freddie”, Fred could only smirk at the small blush that painted her skin.

Fred recognised the look in her eye, there was a point in time where he knew her better that she knew herself, he was glad that he could still tell every little thing about her from her actions. He could see the neediness, but he wouldn’t tell her that, he wanted her to make the first move and god was he praying she would make it tonight.

Once Fred was dressed, they made their way to the kitchen and started to cook together. Jokes were being cracked left, right and centre whilst they cooked, Y/N noticed Fred was being a lot more touchy than normal and she was loving it, it was like having the old Fred back. He would insist on wrapping his hands around her waist to make sure she was chopping the vegetables right or holding his hand around hers whilst she stirred the pasta.

She decided to use this to her advantage, to see if she could get Fred all hot and bothered like she used to. Every time he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she made sure to push her arse back just a little bit more, she would make sure to run her hand down his arm when grabbing something close to him, ‘accidentally’ dropping things in front of Fred so she could bend over to get them – her arse being his point of view each and every time.

Fred caught on pretty early but was enjoying the show he was getting so just let it play out, although he was thankful when Y/N announced their meal was ready because all of her teasing was making his jeans uncomfortably tight.

They sat down at the table with Fred at the end and Y/N to the side so they could talk better. “Oh shoot, we forgot the wine” Y/N stood up to get it, but Fred took her hand guiding her back down, “it’s okay love, I’ll get it”. As Fred returned from the kitchen, he realised how obvious his not so little problem was, he tried to readjust but it made no difference. He stood pouring the wine and Y/N couldn’t help but smirk down at her plate.

“Thank you, Freddie,” she smiled as he sat down, raising her glass to cheers once he was seated. Freds eyes were immediately drawn to her ring finger and the silver band that wrapped around it, he raised his glass to hers, a grin taking over his features before he took a sip of his wine. He took her hand in his once she put her glass down and started to play with the ring on her finger “you’ve got my ring on”.

“Your ring?” she asks playfully “I thought it was mine” she winks. Fred pulls her in for a quick kiss, “it’s ours” he kisses her again before kissing her hand and placing it back down on the table. “Now let's eat”, they dig in and talk the night away.

They’re sitting at the table with Y/N in Freds lap as they drink their wine, “so...I was thinking Freddie” Freds hand is tracing circles on her thigh and his eyes look up at her “it’s been a while since we...you know...had our fun” she internally slaps herself at her choice of words “and well...I was thinking that maybe, you know, since we have the flat to ourselves that we could...well you know”, Fred can’t help but smile down at his adorably nervous girlfriend.

He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek “I’m sorry love but I have no idea what you mean” he teases “what is ‘our fun’?’” he feigns confusion.

Y/N pouts up at him and his mocking tone, she knows it’s all in good fun, but she can't help her nerves...and her neediness. Pull yourself together. She turns in Freds lap, so she straddles him, her arms wrapping around his neck whilst she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Well Freddie, I thought you were quite familiar with ‘our fun’” she mocks his tone at the last part. “You were very familiar with it at school, we did it practically everywhere” she pauses and kisses him before leaning towards his ear “it usually started with me having a mouth full of your cock before being bent over while you fucked me from behind”.

A small groan left Freds mouth at her word, his hands gripping her waist, “but … I suppose if you don’t remember Freddie, I’ll just have to have the fun myself” and with that Y/N was up and moving towards the door to their bedroom. Fred took all of five seconds to compose himself before running up behind her and throwing her over his shoulder taking her into their room.

Part 3 (18+)

#Fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut

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saharamae21 · 5 years ago

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Never Ran Smooth (Part 17)

Hey guys. This is going to be a little bit of a longer author’s note, but I thought I should update you all on a few things. I’ve been really under the weather mentally in the past few days. I think its being on my own and a few other personal things going on in my life that have just made everything seem less okay than normal. Due to this, my updates have been getting pushed back and my sleep schedule is completely messed up. I’m trying really hard to get back to the point where I feel alright, so if I miss a day of updating/writing anything at all, I’m sorry. Writing has been a huge outlet in my mental wellbeing in the past couple of weeks and I am so overwhelmed (in a good way) with the amount of support I’ve received. Thank you all.

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If we have unearned luck

My brother checked on me periodically throughout the rest of the night. He brought me ice for my bruises and painkillers to ease my suffering. However, after the parents were in bed and fell fast asleep, Jasp called it a night too. I tried to just lay there and fall asleep, but my mind was racing with the possibilities of what could’ve happened to my friends. If Barry did this to me, what’s stopped him from hurting everyone else. I forced myself up and hobbled to my car. I snuck out of the driveway easily and made my way to the chateau, praying JJ wasn’t there. In the back of my mind, I knew he didn’t mean what he had said, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Plus he could still be upset with me right now and I just didn’t even know what to say to him. I parked quickly and peaked in the window. I saw Kie and Pope chatting on the pullout couch, but no sign of JJ. I knocked quickly and Kie let me in.

“Jesus, did you get hit by a bus?” Kie said loudly. I could hear the shower going in the room over, meaning JJ was here. I shushed her and sat down painfully. “Did your dad do this?”

“No,” I said, trying to get comfortable. I shifted and felt my ribs arch. I winced and finally just stopped moving. “Barry did this.”

“You saw Barry?” Pope asked nervously.

“Yeah. I came to warn you guys,” I forced the words out. I heard the shower stop and felt my anxiety raise. “I needa go.”

“You cannot drive home like this,” Pope said.

“If I’m not home when my dad wakes up, he’s going to kill me,” I said. I gritted my teeth and tried to get up, but Kie held me back. I heard the bathroom door click and began to panic. I could see JJ. He couldn’t see me like this. I got up quickly to try to leave as the door opened, but I moved too quickly and fell to my knees.

“Sav!” Kie said, kneeling next to me. I swallowed hard and looked up to meet JJ’s gaze. I felt my breathing pick up. He stood there in his tan shorts and bruises covered his chest. He was as beat up as me.

“Did Barry get you?” I asked. His face went white. He took a step forward and stopped as if he didn’t want to get too close to me.

“No? Why would-Did he do this to you?” he asked. Finally, he reached down and lifted my shirt. My side was straight purple. It hurt just from him looking at it. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital? Your ribs could be broken!”

“I’m fine,” I said, pulling my shirt back down.

“This is all my fault,” he mumbled. I felt uncomfortable, but I still forced myself to my feet.

“I need to go,” I said and JJ grabbed my wrist.

“You can’t drive like this,” he said. “Come on. I’ll drive your car back for you. Can you walk?”

I nodded, looking at Kie and Pope for backup. Kie looked at me apologetically and slung her arm over Pope’s should.

“I have to drive Pope back so he can rest for his scholarship interview in the morning,” she said. “Plus, we think you guys need to talk.”

With that, JJ was driving my car back to my house. I sat quietly and uncomfortably in the passenger seat. He never his eyes off the road, but I could tell he had something to say. When he was thinking it really showed on his face. His nose scrunched a little bit and it's almost as if I could see the gears moving in his mind. We got to the north side of the island and JJ finally opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry Sav,” he said, never taking his eyes off the road. “I never should’ve said any of that. You were try-” “It’s okay,” I said, interrupting him. Even if he didn’t mean them, it didn't mean there wasn’t truth behind them. “You were right.”

“What?” he asked, his eyes darting over to me. I felt him step on the breaks, but I couldn’t look him in the eyes as I explained what I meant.

“This was the first time I ever felt like I belonged anywhere and I got carried away,” I mumbled. “I wasn’t kidding anyone though. I was just some girl trying to invade a world that didn’t want her in it. I’m naive and will believe anything. That's why I’m not truly loved by anyone. You don’t have to apologize, JJ.”

“What did your dad say to you Sav?” he asked as we pulled into my driveway. I gathered all my courage and told him.

“And because you believe that, I will never love you,” I said. Almost the exact same words JJ had said hours before. I saw him tense out of the corner of my eye and got out of the car. I felt my ribs crack at the movement and felt my breath hitch.

“Sav!” JJ said a little too loud. I looked around frantically while covering his mouth. The sudden lunge at him made me collapse into his chest. My breath was frantic and rigid. JJ grabbed onto my arms, supporting my weight. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“JJ, I can’t go,” I said, trying to convey my emotions in my voice. “Please just help me get to the boat.”

He gently scooped me up into his arms and cradled me, carefully avoiding the bruises. I could feel his heart beating in his chest. It was a small pitter-patter and it made my heart swell. Then I got a whiff of the familiar scent of weed and mint and it all became too much. I squirmed a little and told him to put me down, but he didn’t. “Savannah Grace, stop squirming,” he said, tightening his grip. I squirmed a little more and my elbow collided lightly with his side. I felt him wince and remembered all the bruises on him.

“Oh my God,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a bruise. I-I-”

Tears welled up in my eyes and my thoughts came back. He squeezed me a little in his arms as if to comfort me without hurting me. I finally gave up and just nestled into his arms. It was the least I could do in this situation. He was caring for me and I was being a brat. He slid the door open and turned the light on.

“You can just put me on that couch there,” I said.

“Where’s the bedroom?” he asked, ignoring my wishes. He walked straight down into the main cabin and looked around. He set me down gently in the main bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. I could see the guilt and pain in his eyes.

“What happened?” I asked, knowing that not all the pain was from me. I knew something was hurting him deeper under the surface. Even after everything that happened, I still loved him. It was weird that I didn’t know how to act around him or what to say to him anymore, but every ounce of my being still needed him by my side. I sat up carefully and scooted over on the bed, so he would have some more room. I could see the sad look on his face switch back and forth from neutral to heartbreak. He looked as if he was being tortured from the inside out. He took a deep breath, but nothing could’ve prepared him enough to tell this story. He spilled everything about his father. About how he blames JJ for his mom leaving and about how alcohol and drugs have affected every aspect of his life. I reached out and took his hand in mine and he just looked at me for a second.

“How don’t you hate me right now?” he asked, his tears threatening to overflow. I gave his hand a squeeze and smiled softly at him.

“Because I know you,” I said. “Or I like to think I do. I know that you don’t control your emotions the best and that you mean well even if it doesn’t always come across that way. By pushing me away, you hoped that you wouldn’t be the reason my life fell apart. Maybe I would get back on the path my dad wanted and everything in my life would be okay, but were far from that.”

“Sav…” he said.

“Just listen,” I demanded. “The relationship my family has is toxic and runs towards the goal of money and power. That’s not my goal though. I’d rather have people I love and care about next to me at all times. I’d rather have you, JJ” I said, staring at his hand in mine.

“I can’t give you anything,” he said. “Your side is like this because I-” “JJ,” I said sternly. “Don’t worry about that. Instead, worry about how to prevent it in the future. Worry about protecting me, not the things that have already happened.” “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “What would I do if you got hurt again because of something I did?”

I let out a yawn and laid back down, pulling on his hand. I wanted him to stay with me. I moved over, making room for him to lay next to me. I heard him protest softly.

“Just stay with me. Please, just for tonight, stay by my side,” I said, reusing my words from that first night. The night before it all fell into place. I felt him slip under the covers with me and pull me softly into his arms. I placed my head in the crook of his neck and felt my whole body relax into his. I sleep so nicely next to him...

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Tag List : @jjmaybangme @thebendslikebendover @justcallmesams @jellyfishbeansontoast @obxmxybxnk

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kiss-my-freckle · 4 years ago

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Now that Liz is fit enough to run Red’s empire (even though I don’t believe that’s where she’ll stay), I think it’s best to start with Keenler’s conversation and work both sides.

Ressler: So he knows that you know that’s not his real identity. Liz: Yeah, and instead of confronting me about it, he decided to try and hand down the keys to his kingdom, and there’s got to be a reason.

and there’s got to be a reason.

Insert Red’s dialogue.

Red: Sometimes things happen for a reason. And sometimes I just don’t know what that reason is.

Insert Dr. Clemons’ dialogue.

Dr. Clemons: Maybe you can get him to listen to reason.

Ressler: What about mortality? Liz: His life is always in mortal danger.

Destiny. Fate.

Insert Red’s reason for handing Liz the keys to his kingdom.

Liz: Of a criminal empire? I'm an FBI agent! Red: You're also the daughter of Katarina Rostova. Believe me, ‭it's not what I had hoped for, or what I had planned for. But as the good book says, man plans. God laughs. Liz: If it's not what you plan, why do it? What changed? Red: Destiny. Fate. Me. You.

Cooper: Seven years ago she was kind, enthusiastic, decent. Under your tutelage she's become someone I fail to recognize. Red: Oh, I think you do. You may not want to. You and I both may not like what it looks like. But we both recognize it for what it is... Her destiny.

Marvin: You're giving a cop the keys to your kingdom. Red: Regrettably. Marvin: Why do it? Red: Because where she's going, she'll need it. Marvin: And where, pray tell, is our plucky heroine going? Red: To a very dark and dangerous place. She doesn't see it, or can't accept it, but her path is undeniable.

Dembe: Did you want Elizabeth to see you shoot her mother? Knowing that if she did, it would send her to a place so dark she would never go back to her old life. Red: Why would I ever do that? Dembe: Because you live in that dark place. And she can't take over your empire without living there too.

Liz: It’s strange. I was afraid earlier of that darkness I was telling you about. I’ve always feared it. Ever since Reddington entered my life, I’ve worried that his darkness might somehow overtake me, that it might just swallow me whole. But now that I’m here, I’m not afraid. In fact, I embrace this part of me and wherever it takes us on our way to the truth. You and me and Reddington, I’m at peace with that. I embrace that. I consider it my destiny.

Ressler: Yeah, from criminals who don’t scare him. But this is different.

This is different.

Liz: If it's not what you plan, why do it? What changed?

It isn’t about Red’s mortality. I actually think that’s a red herring. Dr. Stark has nothing to do with Red’s criminal empire. It's like they're doing a double shift between destiny and mortality. That's why they're selling Red dying so heavily now. Liz is using his supposed mortality against him, when fate is the reason he named her his beneficiary.

Tadashi: Thanks, but I already have a job. It’s got a great health plan. As long as I do it well, Mr. Reddington won’t kill me. Liz: Reddington is dying. He’ll deny it, but it’s true. And when he’s gone, I’ll be in a position to give you all the work you’ll ever need because I’m getting everything. Call Marvin Gerard, he’ll confirm it.

Tadashi: She said you were sick. Like pushing daisies sick. Red: Aspirants are all the same. A little bit desperate, irrational, always impatient. They never wait for the body to cool. Tadashi: I told her I was with you hot or cold, but since you mention it, are you - you know, cooling? Red: Like a lion in winter, I am both diminished and dangerous - As anyone who offers to help Elizabeth will quickly find out.

Red: God knows if it were up to me, given my recent bouts with mortality, I find myself more and more in the liquidation phase. Marvin: You are not going anywhere. As your lawyer, I forbid it.

Red: Dembe - Dembe: Traveler is down. We need a mobile triage. Come on. No more than a 10-mile radius outside 236 Glenellen. Outside Sharptown. Marvin: Get in. Listen to me. You are not allowed to die. Do you hear me? Okay, hang in. Hang in.

Liz: They turned me down because they don’t know the truth. You do. You know he’s sick. You know that when he’s gone I’ll be in power because you wrote the will. Marvin: That’s right. You wait, you get everything. So wait.

Cvetko: Red, you should know, Keen approached me last week. She said you were dying. That she’s the heir apparent and I should throw in with her.

Jennifer: She said it was personal. That she was targeting Raymond Reddington. She said that you were more vulnerable than anyone might believe and that she was building an alliance. And that when this was over, when Reddington was dead, that she’d be in my debt.

Push back to 3x20, where destiny and mortality collide.

Red: You saved Elizabeth. I'm forever in your debt. Now gather your team. It's time to take down the Cabal.

Jennifer: And that when this was over, when Reddington was dead, that she’d be in my debt.

It’s an opposite push of 3a. Saving Liz vs killing Red.

Liz: What do you know? Ressler: You remember when Reddington reconnected with Spalding Stark?

[Flashback:] Red: You haven’t mentioned my blood panel results. Dr. Stark: We’ve been too busy. <<<>>> Liz: Yeah. You said that was for an investment purpose. Ressler: I told you what he asked me to tell you. But the truth is, when I was in Stark’s lab, I saw Reddington’s medical file. Liz: What did it say? Ressler: I didn’t read it. But it was the size of a telephone book, and clearly he didn’t want me to see what was in it. I let it go, but if he’s thinking about his successor, my guess is that’s why.

Take note where they cut the flashback. “Not for good news.” Good news vs bad news. Good luck vs bad luck. The unicorn socks and the washer necklace. Everything is doubling as if they’re going full circle on Liz’s pregnancy at the end of Devry’s episode. “But hey, uh, good news. The baby’s fine.” The baby’s fine until it’s not fine. The purpose for Dr. Stark and Agent Ressler.

Ressler assumes - Guesses - Supposes.

Liz assumes mortality rather than her destiny. Dialogues listed above. Because Ressler assumed mortality intsead of destiny and she’s now seeing it first-hand. Red is having medical issues.

Ressler: I let it go, but if he’s thinking about his successor, my guess is that’s why.

Just like Liz’s PI assumed the Archive would save a woman.

Jackson: If Koslov has information that could save a woman’s life, my guess - it’s in that archive.

Two assumptions.

Red: I assume Tom is the father.

Liz assumes Red was born male.

Liz: I don’t know. With Reddington, I don’t assume anything.

Agnes supposes.

Agnes: I suppose. Aram: You suppose? You suppose? There’s no supposing.

There’s no supposing, no guessing, no assuming.

Just like Ressler assumes mortality, Liz assumes maternity. Because Liz assumes Red was born male and the woman was her mother, her PI assumes that file will save a woman’s life when it will save a man’s life. It will save Red’s life. That's what I'm thinking. I think the manila envelope they mentioned was the one from Tom’s deposit box marked just like his go-box. The mark will connect Katarina Rostova. The best way to prove Tom was trying to kill her mother so he could cash in... is to let Liz go through with her plan to kill her mother, reveal Tom’s side of it, then have Red reveal he's her mother. Glen’s dying wish. Push back to Kate’s dying wish. While Liz tries to carry out Tom’s dying wish lol. Red can have the task force switch his DNA to save himself. They’re weaving everything through destiny and mortality. Red’s criminial empire and his Dr. Stark storyline. Expect it NOT to be what you expect it to be. Two imposter reveals are coming.

Destiny vs mortality. From manila envelope to go-box.

#Rederina #Anti-Tom Keen #Anti-Keen2

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years ago

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Guardian Angel

A Horror Septics Story

(Did not mean this to end up so long, but hey, now it’s its own fic instead of a short snippet like all the other horror septics stuff I’ve written! And I’m not kidding, this is looong. But I thought the impact would be lessened if I split it up. Have fun!)

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Day One in the New House

The moving truck had vanished, and she’d just gotten done putting all the boxes in the correct rooms, though they weren’t unpacked. She sighed in relief, and went upstairs to check on the kids. The upstairs had two bedrooms, and she’d given them the bigger one. She figured it was only fair, since they would be sharing it. She knocked on the door. “Mathew? Lark? Can I come in?”

A few muffled words of conversation, followed by a giggle and a “Yeah, Mom!”

She opened the door. The two of them had been busy setting things up in here, though it was still a mess. They’d divided the room in half, a bed against the opposite walls with a window in the middle. “How are you two doing?”

“We’re good, Mom,” Mathew said, in the middle of taping a poster to his side of the room. Larkin nodded in agreement, bouncing where he was sitting on his bed.

“Alright.” She was about to say more, but then she heard the doorbell ring downstairs. “Oh, I gotta get that. Let me know if you need anything.” She left, closing the door behind her.

Back downstairs, she peered through the peephole on the front door. Standing on her front stoop was a woman, probably about the same age as her, with dark skin and curly hair. Deciding the woman wasn’t threatening, she opened the front door.

“Hi!” The woman beamed. She was holding a plate covered in plastic wrap. “I saw you just moved in, and I thought I’d bring you some cookies.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t been expecting that. Even though it was sort of a thing to bring housewarming gifts, she didn’t know people actually did it. “Thank you, um…?”

“Oh! My name’s Janet Rovira.” Janet smiled brighter, if that was possible. “And you are?”

“Stacy. Stacy Allen.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Stacy!” Janet handed over the plate, leaving Stacy to take it. “You’re American, right? What brings you all the way over here?”

“My grandmother lived here,” Stacy explained. “She always spoke highly of it. I just thought that...the kids and I needed a new start, and I thought this would be a good idea.”

“Oh, you have kids?” Janet asked, intrigued. “I have a daughter, she’s eight months old.”

Stacy smiled. “Yeah, I have two sons. Thirteen and seven.” She silently prayed that Janet wouldn’t make any comments about how young she looked, she’d heard enough of those.

Luckily, Janet didn’t even seem to notice. “Ooo! Good luck, I hear thirteen is when things start to get difficult. You and the mister better be prepared.”

Stacy felt a shard in her heart. She smiled through clenched teeth. “Ha ha, yeah, I’ll be prepared.”

Again, luck was on her side, as Janet seemed to pick up on something in her tone. Her smile dropped for the first time. “You know, I was familiar with the last resident in this house. Emily.”

“Oh, really?” Stacy asked. “I, um...heard what happened.”

Janet couldn’t hide her surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah, the realtor was, um...legally obligated to tell me what happened.”

Janet’s expression dropped for the first time, sun overtaken by gray clouds. “It was a sad affair. We all wonder if it could’ve been different. I wasn’t too close, but I wish I could’ve been. Maybe it would’ve helped.”

“No use dwelling on the past,” Stacy sighed. “Just keep them with you.” She was familiar with that. Had some practice with that, in fact, in the last year or so. “Well...thanks for the cookies.”

“Oh, no problem, hun, we had some extra. Hey, if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, just come on over. We live right across the street from you, and I work from home so I’m usually there. If I’m not, feel free to talk to Martín, my husband.”

Stacy managed a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

“Still no problem.” Janet backed up. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around, then.”

“See you.”

“Goodbye!”

Stacy closed the front door. As she did, she caught a glimpse of someone else on the sidewalk. She peered out the front window at the street. Yes, there was a man walking along the path. But then he stopped. And he looked at her house. Stacy gasped, drawing the curtain closed. Yet she couldn’t help it. She peeked out again. The man was still there. Janet was walking towards him, but she stopped, and then crossed the street, jaywalking across the empty asphalt. The man didn’t seem to notice. Stacy drew the curtains closed again. It was probably nothing.

But when she went to bed that night, it was hard to get to sleep. She felt like she was being watched.

—————

Day Fourteen in the New House

—————

Stacy had been out all day, as she had been every day for the past week. She needed a job. She’d been looking online, and applied for a few but got rejected for all. She was now dropping her resume off at some places with hiring signs in the window, but she doubted she’d get an answer. She’d had exactly three interviews and hadn’t heard back from any of them, but she was sure it hadn’t gone well. She sighed, deeply. This was...this was tiring.

And upon arriving home, she was not excited to look out her car window and see the same man from two weeks ago standing outside and looking at her house.

Her heart shot up into her throat, but she remained calm. She parked her car in the driveway, unlocked her front door, went inside, locked the door behind her, went upstairs, unlocked the special drawer in her dresser, took out her handgun and shoulder holster, put it on under her jacket, went back downstairs, and the guy was still standing outside. Five minutes later. She took a deep breath, and went outside, walking right up to the guy. “Hey,” she said.

The man looked at her. “Hi.”

Stacy laughed. “Sorry, I was just...I saw you outside a few weeks ago, too. Do you...want to talk to me about something?” She figured it was a good idea to confront him about it.

The man looked back at the house. He...well, Stacy wasn’t one to judge, but he looked sketchy as hell. He was wearing a dirty green jacket, fur around the hood, at five o’clock on an August afternoon. The eye patch didn’t help, nor did the stained bandages around his neck. “There’s something in your house,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Stacy asked.

“Something in your house. It moves in the windows sometimes.” The man said this as if it was perfectly reasonable.

“Well...I don’t live alone,” she said slowly.

“No, I know. The kids, right? Two boys? I’ve seen them.” He smiled. “Cute. No, I mean...there’s a thing in your house.”

...okay. This was happening. Stacy’s hand drifted upward, towards the handle of her gun. “There are a lot of things in my house. But you don’t have to stand outside to watch for any of them.”

He looked at her again. And Stacy realized that, despite the streaks of gray in his hair, he was actually pretty young. Probably younger than her. “Right. I don’t have to.”

Stacy swallowed nervously, then smiled. “So...I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

Silence. The man kept staring at her. Then he stared at the house again. And he backed up. “It wouldn’t like me,” he muttered, and then turned and slinked off down the street.

Stacy felt like her house was about to pound out of her chest. She quickly hurried inside, locking the door behind her. And she took out her phone, dialling a number she’d gotten just a few days ago. It didn’t ring for long. “Hello?”

“Hi, Janet? I-It’s Stacy,” she said.

“Oh, hi Stace! What’s up?”

“Yeah, um.” She laughed nervously. And she glanced out the front window. No one was there. “Funny story. There was, uh, a...guy outside my house? Kind of, um, watching it?”

Janet’s tone suddenly sharpened. “What did he look like?”

“Um…” Stacy’s mind went oddly blank for a moment. “I mean, a guy in a green jacket. He had an eye patch.”

“Oh.” Janet sounded a bit relieved. “I know who you mean. That’s John.”

“John?”

“Well, that’s what everyone calls him. John Doe, you know? Cause nobody really knows his name,” Janet explained. “He’s...well, he lives in a tent in the park. Kind of crazy.”

“Crazy?” Stacy repeated, nerves crawling up her spine.

“But mostly harmless,” Janet hurried to say. “Martín’s seen him in the station a few times for disturbances, but he’s never hurt anyone.”

“What kind of disturbances?”

“You know, noise complaints, loitering, some mild destruction of property, pickpocketing. Why was he outside your house?”

“...I don’t know.” Stacy glanced out the window again. She thought she saw a flicker in the corner of her vision, but it must’ve been nothing, because nobody was there. “He said there was ‘a thing’ in my house. Kept saying it.”

“Yep, I told you, kind of crazy.” Janet sighed. “You tell me if you see him again, I’ll ask Martín to look into it.”

“Thanks, Janet.”

“No problem. See you later, hun.”

Stacy hung up, sighing. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to have to deal with some crazy guy on top of everything else going on. The boys would be starting school soon, she still needed a job, they were all adjusting to the new place and...well, the other thing. She needed a break.

She opened her eyes, starting to head upstairs so she could take a nap. But as she walked past the kitchen, she paused. And sniffed. There was a smell in the air...one that she better not be smelling in a house with a preteen and a child. She poked her head inside the kitchen. There was a puddle of red liquid on the counter, dripping off the side and onto the floor. Drops led to the closed fridge. She walked forward and opened the refrigerator door. Among the normal groceries were two dark bottles, a few cracks in them, covered in dust. She picked one of them up and sniffed it, then looked at the label. Yep, that was wine. What was it doing here? She didn’t own any alcohol, she was trying to give it up, avoid temptation. She decided she’d ask Mathew about it later that night at dinner. He was thirteen, he’d better not be getting into this.

She did talk to him. But he denied it, even when she explained she wasn’t mad. Mathew wasn’t a liar, but she gave him the talk about alcohol anyway, just in case. Because she didn’t want to think about the idea that someone had broken into her house, even if all they did was drop off bottles of wine. That was...confusing. And terrifying.

—————

Day Thirty-Two in the New House

—————

Stacy arrived at the school a half hour before it let out. Just in case. It was another ten minutes before Mathew exited the building. He spotted her car immediately, heading right towards it. “Hey pumpkin,” she said cheerfully as he got in the car. “So how was ‘secondary school’?”

“Okay, I guess. A little weird.” Mathew stared out the window as the car pulled away. “It’s like Harry Potter.”

“Well, that makes sense. They are British books, after all.” Stacy bit back a yawn. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She kept tossing and turning, having this strange feeling...that she wasn’t alone. More than once, she could’ve sworn she heard someone whisper directly in her ear, but when she looked around, the room was empty. And last night, she thought she saw someone sitting in her chair, but when she turned the lamp on, it was just one of her cardigans thrown over the seat. These things must’ve been caused by stress. She’d finally managed to get a temporary job at the pool, but that would be closing at the end of the month, so she was still looking. And there was the whole “new city in a new country” thing. And she was worried about the boys’ new schools. And there was...well. All of these things probably added up. She trusted she’d sleep better once they all got settled. “Did you talk to anyone interesting?” she asked cheerfully.

Mathew shrugged; she could see it in the rear view mirror. “Mom...do we live in a ghost house?”

“Hmm? What makes you say that?”

“Well, there were these two guys in my Math class, they said that the last person who lived there died, and now she haunts the place.”

Stacy nodded sadly. “Well...the last resident did...pass away. That’s why we got such a nice house for so little. Things like that lower the cost. But I don’t think ghosts exist, Matt.”

“Huh.” Mathew stared out the window. “They said she...offed herself.”

Stacy bit her lip. “Don’t use that term, please pumpkin, it’s a little...disrespectful. But...yes, that’s what I was told, too.”

“Do you...think that ghosts can talk to each other?” Mathew asked. “Do they all know each other? You think this lady would know Dad?”

This was a tricky space to navigate. Stacy stayed silent for a bit. “Well...maybe they do, maybe they don’t. They...did live in different countries, but maybe things like that don’t matter to them. We can’t really know.” Her voice was soft. “Are you...you know you can talk to me about anything, right Matt?”

Mathew nodded. He didn’t say anything else on the drive. Ten minutes later, Stacy pulled up to the primary school. Five minutes later, the kids all walked out. She spotted Larkin, and waved at him. He was silent as he walked up to the car and climbed inside, sitting next to Mathew.

“Hey sweetie,” Stacy said, putting enthusiasm in her voice. “How was school?”

“Good.” Larkin joined Mathew in staring out the window.

“Did you talk to anyone? Make any new friends?”

“Yeah, a few people. I don’t know if we’re friends yet.”

“I bet you could be!”

“Yeah.”

This was...odd. Larkin wasn’t usually this quiet. “How’s your teacher? What’s her name?”

A silent moment. “Ms. Bloomberg. She’s...okay.”

And Larkin continued to give short answers all the way back home. Once inside, he ran upstairs and shut the door to their shared room, leaving Mathew to hang out in the living room. Stacy watched Lark go, not bothering to hide her concern. She made spaghetti for dinner that night. It was Larkin’s favorite, and she hoped to cheer him up. It didn’t work, but when she brought out the ice cream he perked up considerably.

“Hey Lark,” Mathew said, stabbing his bowl of vanilla with the spoon. “Did you know we live in a ghost house?”

Stacy gave Mathew a look, one of the ones that said not to go there. But then Larkin piped up, “Uh-huh. There’s a ghost here.”

She then immediately turned to look at Larkin. “Oh? Have you seen this ghost?”

“A couple times, yeah.” Larkin shoved a spoon of chocolate in his mouth before answering. “He’s a sad ghost, he walks all over the place but then he disappears. I said hi to him, and he said hi back. Then he went away.”

“Interesting.” Stacy filed this under the “to-be-concerned-about-if-something-seems-off” part in her brain. It could just be Larkin’s new imaginary friend. He had one once before, a talking dog named Boots. But he said he went away two years ago to find his family. So, she wouldn’t be worried unless something happened. But she took note of it.

—————

Night Sixty-Five in the New House

—————

Stacy woke up in the middle of the night, for a reason she couldn’t understand. Her initial reaction was to keep her eyes closed and try to go back to sleep. She’d gotten a new job at the grocery store, and its hours were long. She was exhausted, and needed the sleep.

But then she felt something pressing on her chest.

Dimly, she registered this as a problem. Breathing was difficult. In her tired mind, she thought that maybe she should roll over onto her side and that would fix it.

“hey...”

It was one of those whispers in the night, the ones she’d been hearing lately. But this one seemed less like something between the worlds of waking and dreaming, and more like something firmly real.

“i know you’re awake.”

She couldn’t really identify the voice. It wasn’t anyone she knew, so she assumed—hoped—that it was her imagination. If she had to put an age and gender to it, she would guess it was a man her age, but it would be just a guess.

“can you hear me?”

It was definitely a whisper. And it was definitely really there. She struggled to breathe through the weight, as well as the sudden terror that gripped her.

“can you say something? please?”

Something brushed against her hair. And that convinced her to open her eyes.

There was something in front of her. It was sitting on her chest. It could probably feel her heart beating a mile a minute. She stared frozen at the figure, taking in its reaching hand and the tear tracks trailing down its face. And then she managed to scream.

It vanished, the weight on her chest disappearing. She bolted upright, arms and blankets flailing. Her eyes darted around the room. Where is it? Where is it?! She cast her hand to the side and turned on her lamp. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand where it was charging and dialed a number, panting heavily.

After a long time ringing, it was picked up. “Hello?”

“Janet! I-I-I—” Stacy couldn’t get the words out. Tears were coming to her eyes. “I-I-I—”

“Whoa, Stace, hun, calm down.” Janet’s voice was soothing. “What’s got you so upset?”

After a few more seconds of calming her hyperventilating, Stacy managed to choke out, “I-I think I just saw something.”

“Something?” Janet asked, confused. “What something?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Stacy shook her head, even though she knew Janet couldn’t see her. “I-I woke up, and I—and I couldn’t breathe and there was something on my chest. And I heard something whisper, and—and I opened my eyes and there was a thing in front of me—” She broke off, trying to control her breathing again.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay, Stace,” Janet reassured her. “Whatever happened, it’s over now. Sounds like you had a real scare.”

Stacy wiped at her eyes. “Y-yeah...Wh...what was that?”

“I don’t know, hun, but...have you ever heard of sleep paralysis?”

“Isn’t that where you can’t move?”

“Yes, but sometimes people see weird things. You know, hallucinations. They could be really scary. I had sleep paralysis real bad when I was a teenager, and a lot of the time it felt like there was a weight on my chest. Does that sound like what happened?”

“I...I guess.” Stacy nodded. That made sense. That was probably all it was. “Do you think it can be caused by stress?”

“Maybe. If it happens again, maybe you can talk to someone about it. Like, a doctor.”

“Maybe. I’m...I’ll Google it in the morning.” That seemed like the best idea.

“Want me to stay on the line?” Janet offered. “I got up to check on Maggie, but I can stay up.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Get some sleep.”

“You too. Get a good night’s rest. Good night, Stacy.”

“Good night.”

Yet she couldn’t get to sleep until she heard the early morning birds chirping.

—————

Day Seventy-One in the New House

—————

Larkin had been in his room ever since she picked him up from school. It was now almost dinner time, and she was getting worried. She headed upstairs and knocked on the door. “Hey Lark? It’s almost time to eat, what do you want?”

For a moment, there was silence. “I don’t know, Mom.”

Definitely not normal. Larkin always asked for something; usually pasta, it was his favorite. “Do you mind if I come inside, sweetie?”

A long bit of silence. “Okay.”

She gently pushed the door open. Larkin was lying on his bed with his face buried in the pillow. She walked over and sat on the side of the small mattress. “Are you doing okay, sweetie?”

Larkin nodded, keeping his face buried.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

He shook his head.

She quieted for a moment, thinking. “Lark, can you look at me?” He suddenly hunched his shoulders, and she hurried to add, “Only if you want to, of course.”

That seemed to help. Larkin sat up, rubbing at his eyes. They were red. He’d obviously been crying.

“Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked quietly. “Is it friends? Or school?”

Larkin suddenly started crying. “Ms. Bloomberg.”

“Your teacher? Do you not like her?”

He shook his head. “She’s mean, Mom.”

“Hey.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “How is she mean? Did she do something?”

Tears slipped down Larkin’s face. “She calls me L-Landon instead of my name. A-and she won’t stop when I tell her to. Yesterday she...she said she wasn’t gonna call me a for-aim name.”

“What?! A foreign name?” Stacy shook her head, baffled. “That’s ridiculous.”

“And she—she thinks I’m cheating in math.” Larkin hid his face in his mother’s blouse. “Because I-I don’t do good in English.”

“Did she say that?”

“No, b-but she always puts red marks on math questions I know I did right. An-and I asked her why, and she said she’s making my math scores meet my English ones.” He took a shaky breath. “Bec-cause those ones are the ‘right’ ones.”

Stacy patted Larkin’s back. She wasn’t looking at the door, but she knew Mathew was standing there. “That’s awful. Tell you what? I’ll go to talk to her after dinner and get this sorted out. Would that help?”

Larkin nodded.

“Alright, sweetie. Now. What if I made spaghetti for dinner?”

“That sounds good, Mom.”

“Alright.” She planned on staying there a few moments more, to make sure Larkin was okay. But she turned toward the doorway, planning to ask Mathew to leave. But her request died in her throat. Nobody was there. Strange...she could’ve sworn she felt a presence. Like someone was watching her. Maybe Mathew had left.

Stacy did indeed make spaghetti for dinner, then called Janet to ask her to watch the kids. Once Janet came over, leaving her daughter, Maggie, with her husband, Stacy got in the car and drove over to the teacher’s address. It was clearly printed in the school directory, which she found kind of strange, but who was she to tell the school how to run?

It was that strange time of day between sunset and evening when she pulled up to the curb outside Nancy Bloomberg’s house. Stacy got out of her car, locking it behind her, and walked up the path to the front door. She rang the doorbell. After a minute of no response, she rang again. After another minute, she went to knock, and when her knuckles hit the door, it opened. Just a bit. Enough to show it had already been open a little, and the force of the knock caused it to swing inward. Stacy hesitated, then pushed the door open a bit. “Hello? Ms. Bloomberg?”

No answer. There was a car in the driveway, so she assumed Ms. Bloomberg was home. She swallowed, and pushed the door open all the way. “Hello?”

It’s then that she saw the puddle of red liquid.

She was curious enough to step inside the house and head toward it. At first, she thought it was spilled wine, reminiscent of the scene in her own house when she first moved in.

And then she looked into the kitchen and realized it wasn’t wine.

—————

Day Seventy-Two in the New House

—————

She’d called the police, of course. And she’d called Janet, to explain what happened and why she would be late. The cops asked her what she saw, and why she was here, and she replied that she’d been paying her son’s teacher a visit. She told them she’d just found the body once she realized the door was open. They believed her.

It was a Saturday, and the kids were home from school. Mathew was playing some game on his Xbox in the living room while Larkin sat on the floor and colored with crayons. Stacy poked her head inside to check on them. “How’re you guys doing?”

“Good, Mom,” Mathew said.

“Good, Mom,” Larkin said cheerfully.

“What’re you drawing?” Stacy walked over.

“This!” Larkin held up the drawing for her to see.

Stacy stopped, staring. This was...this was impossible. But...no, it was impossible. It would be concerning on its own, but she recognized it. The scribble of red on the crayon floor, the yellow dress and black hair on the lying-down figure...it was exactly what she saw yesterday. “Lark...where did you get the idea for that?”

“The ghost told me about it,” Larkin explained.

“The ghost?”

“The sad ghost who lives in our house!” Larkin explained. “He told me a story last night about a mean lady taking a nap in red paint, so I drew it.”

“...ah.” Stacy looked over at Mathew, who paused the game to look at Larkin, a bit concerned as well. “That’s...that’s interesting.”

“You know the ghost, right, Mom?” Larkin asked. “He goes in your room sometimes. Right through the door.”

Her heart was pumping ice. “I’ve never seen him, sweetie.”

“Aw.” Larkin went back to coloring. “He seems nice.”

Stacy nodded, smiling, and left the room.

She called the police again.

—————

Day Seventy-Three in the New House

—————

“So you’re saying your son killed her?”

“No, of course not! He’s seven! But he did hear about what happened...somehow.”

“What about your other son? How old is he?”

“Thirteen. But he couldn’t have done anything!”

“Would he be protective of his younger brother?”

“W-well, I mean, yes, but it’s impossible! He was with my friend Janet all evening, and before that he was with me.”

“So how do you think your son knew about what happened?”

“I’m not sure. He said the ghost in our house told him about it.”

“Does your son know anyone who could be considered ‘a ghost’? Like an older man?”

“No...not that I know of.”

“...we’ll be looking into this, ma’am.”

—————

Night Ninety in the New House

—————

Stacy was pretending to be asleep, keeping her eyes firmly shut and her breathing even. She wanted to check the time—surely it had to be three a.m. at least. It couldn’t be earlier than that.

There were whispers in her head.

She couldn’t say what they were saying, not exactly. She had the vague sense that they were like fog, filling her brain. A heavy fog dragging her down. Occasionally a memory would flash across her mind. Not good ones. Ones she’d rather forget, actually.

“hey. i know you’re awake.”

The time she’d left the house for work in the morning, trusting the babysitter would arrive on time. But the sitter had been an hour late, and in that time period, five-year-old Larkin had managed to fall off a stool, trying to reach a high-up shelf, and broken his arm. She’d gotten the call from the sitter at the hospital. She’d felt like a failure, staring down at her son’s cast.

“why don’t you ever answer me?”

She rolled over, sticking her arm out in an effort to reach a more comfortable position. In her head, she recalled the night she’d got the news. The night she’d been up late, waiting for him to come home. She stared at the phone, noticing repeated calls from a number, but not the number she was looking for. Then the police officer came to her house, saying something about there being an accident. She should’ve answered the phone. And how was she supposed to tell the kids?

Something grabbed her hand. Something that should’ve felt like a human hand, but it was too cold, a layer of dust covering its palm. She tried not to shudder. If she didn’t react, maybe it would go away.

“i want you to stay with me...”

“will you stay with me? will all of you stay?”

The memory of the first time she’d tried drowning her tears. A bottle of whiskey, late at night when she thought they’d both be asleep. She thought it had worked. A little bit of a buzz, and she was forgetting what all the fuss was about in the first place. But Mathew was awake. And seeing him had reminded her. She didn’t remember what she said, but she remembered it was in anger. She’d apologized the next morning. But it wasn’t enough. She was never enough.

“you’re going to stay with me. i love company.”

She must’ve fallen asleep eventually. When she woke up, she thought it had been another dream. Another hallucination brought on by sleep paralysis. But then she twitched her fingers, clutching them into a fist. And it felt...off. She opened her eyes, and her hand. There was a layer of gray dust on her palm.

—————

Day Ninety-One in the New House

—————

Stacy called a therapist, made an appointment for Wednesday. She approached it with the idea that this was all in her head. Which would be...difficult enough to deal with on its own. With two kids to take care of, could she worry about losing her mind?

But she kept coming back to the gray dust. It was there. It was definitely there. She’d washed her hand, but not before finding a mason jar in the kitchen and doing her best to wipe the dust into it. She got some of it...and it was definitely there.

Larkin had said there was a ghost in the house. A ghost that went into her room sometimes. A ghost that told him that his teacher was killed, the day after it happened.

The kids were at school. She grabbed her jacket, and a moment later, unlocked the special drawer in her dresser, grabbing her handgun and shoulder holster as well. She threw the jacket on over the holster, and left the house, walking across the street and knocking on the door of the house opposite hers.

Janet opened the door with a smile. “Oh hey, Stace. You okay, hun? You look a little…” She waved her hand in front of her face. “...pale.”

Stacy laughed. “I...you’re gonna think I’m crazy.”

Janet sensed this was a serious matter. Her smile dropped. “Why don’t you come inside, hun?”

The living room was small and cozy, pictures of Janet and Martín’s relatives on the walls. Janet set Stacy down on the sofa, bringing her a plate of cookies—“biscuits,” she called them. Stacy took one, but didn’t eat. Janet sat down in an armchair across from her. “Now. What’s wrong?”

That was all it took for the whole story to come spilling out. The sleep paralysis episodes, the whispers she’d been hearing that she attributed to stress, the stories her son told about a ghost, the times she’d found strange bottles of alcohol in her house that she knew she hadn’t brought there, and all culminating in her waking up, with dust on her hand in the same place she could’ve sworn someone was holding it last night. At the end of it all, Stacy realized she’d started crying. She hurriedly wiped her face. “I-I know it sounds crazy,” she said. “I’m going to see a therapist next week, but...I-I don’t know, I just needed to tell someone else.”

Janet had been silent the whole time. Now, she looked down at her hands in her lap. “It...it does sound strange, hun, but...well, some of this can’t be a coincidence.”

Stacy let out a deep breath. “I-I know, it is a bit weird—”

“No, I mean…” Janet inhaled deeply, and looked back up. “You remember the person who lived in that house before you did?”

“Emily?” Stacy asked.

“Yeah, Emily Kendrik.” Janet nodded. “A week before she...well. A week before it happened, she showed up at Helen’s house—she’s the head of the Homeowner’s Association. Emily complained about there being a lot of dust in her house. Helen said that wasn’t a problem for the HOA, and Emily showed up here.” Janet bit her lip. “She talked about that, and the fact that she kept hearing things at night...and how broken beer bottles were showing up in her fridge.”

Stacy’s eyes widened. “I—I swear I didn’t know this—”

“No, of course you didn’t,” Janet waved away. “Helen might’ve laughed about the dust thing with her friends, but I never told anyone about what Emily said to me. I mean…” she laughed nervously. “H-how could I have? When a week later, Emily was found...like that.” She tried to say it as delicately as possible.

Stacy put the biscuit she was still holding down on the plate. “So...I-I’m not the only one who’s had this...happen?”

“Apparently not.” Janet looked...well, worried was a mild way of putting it. “I think maybe your son’s right. Maybe your house is haunted.”

All Stacy could do was stare at nothing. Her whole world had just been flipped on its head. “What am I supposed to do?” She asked hoarsely. “Call a priest?”

“I mean, I think that’s what people usually do when there’s a thing in their house.”

Stacy suddenly started. “Wait, what did you say?”

Janet blinked, confused. “I said I think that’s what people usually do when there’s a thing in their house.”

That phrase was ringing a bell. Stacy cast her memory back, trying to think of where she’d heard it, and why it seemed so memorable.

There’s a thing in your house. It moves in the windows sometimes.

Stacy suddenly stood up. “I-I just remembered something. I’ll talk to you later, Janet.”

“Oh, uh...alright. Talk to you later, Stace.”

Stacy wasn’t even listening as she left. Quickly, she walked across the street back to her house. Digging in her pocket for her wallet and car keys, she devised a plan. It was still morning, she didn’t have to pick up the kids for a while. Plenty of time to find a guy whose name she didn’t know.

—————

The city had two different parks, but she decided it would be a better bet to search the bigger one first. And it was. In one corner of the park, the one that had a particularly high amount of trees, she found a small green tent set up, vaguely dome-shaped, probably only big enough for one person. She...wasn’t sure how to check if anyone was home. Did you knock on a tent? That seemed like a good idea. She walked right up to the tent, found an area that looked like a door, and hit it a couple times with her fist like she was knocking on a house door. “Hello?” she asked.

There was a sudden yelp, and the walls of the tent moved as someone inside scrambled about. The door area unzipped, and a man climbed out, standing up and looking around wildly. Stacy backed away as she realized the man was holding a pocket knife—and a rather big one, as well. The man’s eyes—or, eye, the other one was covered by a black patch—landed on her, and he relaxed. “Jesus christ, you fucking scared me,” he breathed, folding the pocket knife closed. “Don’t do that. I thought you were coming to take me.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Stacy smiled shakily. “Um, are you...I mean, I don’t know your name, but my friend called you John?”

“Yeah, that works, it’s the closest yet,” the man said, shoving the knife in the pocket of his green jacket.

“Uh...okay. John.” Stacy swallowed nervously. “I...don’t know if you remember me—”

“You’re the lady in the house across from Martín’s, the one with two kids, boys,” John said, as if he was reciting words from a cue card. “Yeah, I remember you.”

“...oh.” Stacy fought the urge to take a step backwards. This guy was really unnerving her. But what was unnerving her more was the thought of what was happening back in her home. “Well. My name is Stacy. You...a couple months ago, you were outside my house, and I talked to you, and you said something about there being ‘a thing’ in my house. I-I was just wondering...why did you say that?”

“Cause there’s a thing in your house,” John stated clearly. “It’s in the windows. But I mean, it kind of disappears when anyone else tries to look at it.”

Stacy realized that sounded insane. She then realized she might be going insane, but decided to keep going anyway. “A thing like a ghost?”

John burst into laughter, doubling over with the force of it. Stacy took a step backwards, waiting for him to finish. After what must’ve been a solid thirty seconds, John managed to stop himself. He straightened, and grinned widely at Stacy. “No, not like a ghost. Ghosts might not even exist. I’ve never seen one. Unless you count the souls of the damned that are trapped in the mist of an Irish forest. No, this is much worse than a ghost.” His grin faded slowly. “...and...you’re actually looking at me seriously. Like, this doesn’t sound like complete bullshit to you.”

“I mean, it does,” Stacy admitted. “But after what’s been happening, I think bullshit is my new reality.”

“...huh.” John blinked, staring at her. One blue eye looked over her, its gaze piercing.

“I think...I need your help?” It came out like a question. “Things have been happening...c-crazy things.” She laughed.

“...well, then.” John grinned. “We can talk. But on one condition.” At Stacy’s sudden wide eyes, he hurried to say, “Nothing too big. I just want to see if you could buy lunch, or something? We can talk at a restaurant...or something. Not like, McDonald’s. I’ve had enough of that.” He smiled a bit.

“Oh. Um, okay. Yeah.” That didn’t sound too bad. If anything happened, she did have a gun. “C’mon, I know a place.”

They ended up at a local diner, fairly crowded. Stacy wondered if that was gonna be a good idea, given what they would be talking about. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. But then again, maybe it would be too loud for anyone to hear anything. And given the looks John was attracting, maybe anyone who did hear would think she was just humoring his crazy ideas.

It would be a while until the food they ordered actually arrived, so Stacy got right to business. “What you were saying back there. What do you mean, worse than a ghost?” she asked, jumping right into the topic. “Like, a demon?”

“Well, to me, the word ‘demon’ kind of...implies something specific.” John was scratching his nails into the wooden table, seemingly not caring about the marks it was leaving. “Like...there’s a specific idea to it, y’know? Maybe that’s ‘cause of religion or something, I don’t know, but even if you’re not religious, you have a sort of concept in your head of what a demon is.” He chuckled. “These things...don’t really fit into a category. They’re more like horror movie monsters come to life.”

“That’s...not encouraging,” Stacy admitted.

John laughed. “Life isn’t as safe as you thiiiink it is!” he said in a singsong voice. “There’s so many different ways you can get fucked up!”

“...okay, then. That’s even less encouraging.” Stacy scooted her chair back a bit.

John’s smile faded. “Sorry.” He paused. “If it’s any consolation, you...you really did just have bad luck. The odds of actually running into one of these things is relatively small. You just...chose the wrong city.”

Stacy looked down at the tabletop. “My grandma grew up here. She never mentioned the...I don’t know, cryptid horror monster.”

“Well, to be fair, most people wouldn’t. Even if they knew, they’d probably say something like, ‘oh it’s not safe to be out on the streets at night’ or some shit like that. I mean, come on. Would you?”

“You talked to me about it,” Stacy pointed out. “Even before I came to you about it.”

“Yeah, and you thought I was insane.” John shrugged. “Which I mean...jury’s still out on that.”

Stacy laughed nervously, and shook her head. “We’re getting off track. Do you know anything about this...this thing in my house?”

John scrunched his brows, thinking. “Well, I know it straight-up disappears when you look at it in the window. And I haven’t seen it outside anywhere. Have you?”

The waiter arrived, bringing over their drinks. Stacy quietly thanked him, and John did too. The waiter ignored him, though, just talking to her to say the food will be coming out soon. Once he walked away, Stacy returned to their conversation.

“Outside anywhere? Like, outside my house? Um…” Stacy cast her mind back over the last three months. “Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t. I-I mean, when I’m in my house I sometimes see shadows in the corner of my eyes. And I hear these...whispers.” She shuddered. “But it’s never when I’m at work, or when I’m picking up the kids from school, or running errands.”

“So it’s probably confined to a single space,” John said. He took a sip of his Coke. “Some of them are like that, but others travel about.”

“Okay…” Stacy nodded. “So...what should I do about it?”

John shrugged. “Well, I don’t know, exactly. I’ve only been here five months, and I didn’t see it until I stopped outside your house the day you moved in. But I can give you a suggestion.”

“Alright. What’s that?”

“Leave. Like, right now.”

“Wh—” Stacy spluttered. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” John looked genuinely surprised.

“Because we just moved here! The kids are still adjusting, I’m still adjusting—”

“Perfect, you won’t have anything to miss!” John laughed.

“No! You can’t handle two moves in such a short period! What would that do to the kids? Mathew has a hard enough time making friends already, and Larkin is only eight, he wouldn’t be able to understand.” Not to mention that she didn’t know if she could get another job, or another house. Or any new friends of her own. “Isn’t there anything else we can do? How do we get rid of it?”

John’s face suddenly fell. He leaned across the table, getting closer. “Do you know what it wants with you?”

She felt like the breath was knocked out of her. “I...I don’t know,” she said quietly.

His head tilted. “Have you picked up on anything? Any sort of intentions?”

She paused, thinking about this. “Um...well...th-the last person who lived in the house...she was—I mean, I figured out she was haunted by the thing, too. And she...um, she committed suicide.” She went quiet for a moment. “Do you think it was because of this?”

“Probaby,” John said casually. “Either it drove her to it, or it killed her and framed it.”

Stacy felt her heart stop. “I-I can’t—” She shook her head. “I can’t let that—my kids—”

“I see.” John nodded. His expression softened. “It would be hard for them. And obviously for you, too. So…” He leaned back. “That’s why you gotta leave. As soon as possible.”

“...maybe.” Stacy settled back in her seat. “I...I guess I could start looking for some place to live. Find a new job.”

John sighed. “Look, the longer you stay here, the more at risk you are. You need to get out before it gets to you.”

“I can’t just leave, though. With no support, no way to get income? What would happen then?”

“Um, you wouldn’t die. That seems better than anything else.”

“It’s not just about me, though,” Stacy said quietly. “I’m the only one who can look after Mathew and Larkin. We have no other family, a-and C—my husband, he’s…” She swallows the lump in her throat. “...he’s gone now. They need me.”

John’s expression softened in a way it hadn’t yet. “...I see.” He sighed. “I...I guess that makes sense. Just...just get out. As soon as possible.”

“Isn’t there anything else?” Stacy asked. “Can we get rid of it?”

John laughed, the sound hysterical. “If you find a way to, please tell me! Because I haven’t yet, and I’d love to hear it!” He sighed again. “I’m sorry, but you really just need to leave.”

Stacy felt her heart sink. But she nodded. “...okay, then.” She swallowed nervously. “Maybe we should just move back to the U.S., then we could avoid all this.”

“I mean, they exist in the states, too,” John said, shrugging. “They exist all over the world. But if you want to avoid the one that currently has its eye on you—wait, does it have eyes?”

Stacy blinked, surprised. “Um..well, I’ve seen it crying.”

“That doesn’t help.” John shook his head. “Well, anyway, it’s just a metaphor. If you want to go to the states to avoid this one, go ahead.” He smiled. “But once you’ve gotten involved in things like this, you tend to...see more.”

The waiter arrived with their food. John immediately began eating, tucking into his sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in a while. Which, Stacy realized, he might not have. “How do you know all this stuff?” She asked quietly.

John took a moment to answer, swallowing the bite he’d taken. “Experience,” he said with a dull smile. “I was a lot like you, once. But I wasn’t lucky enough to have someone there to give me advice.” He fell quiet for a moment, eye darkening with shadows. “Just...just get out, okay?”

Stacy nodded, not saying anything else.

—————

Day One Hundred in the New House

—————

It was getting worse. Stacy had decided to ignore it, for the time being, but she could tell it was getting worse. She could hear the whispers whenever she was alone in the house, always in the back of her mind. The shadow of the thing would linger in her peripheral vision, watching her. The longer it stayed, the more details she could make out. And sometimes, she walked past the boys’ room and heard Larkin talking to someone when Mathew was still downstairs.

It seemed like John was right; leaving was starting to look like the best option. Stacy began looking for options online for places to move to. But only outside the house. She didn’t want to risk the thing catching onto what she was planning, so she’d take her laptop and go sit on a bench in the park, browsing houses for sale in nearby cities. She also continued a job search online, looking for openings in those same cities and applying to anything she could find, just in case they moved to the area.

She did tell Janet about her plans. In person, at Janet’s house. Luckily, the other woman was understanding. “If you told me a week ago, I would’ve asked you to reconsider it, after some therapy,” she said. “But with your problems lining up with Emily’s, I...I’m the one who’s reconsidering.” She chuckled nervously.

“I probably should talk to someone anyway,” Stacy sighed. “I did cancel the appointment I made, but I can make a new one in the new city.”

“That sounds like a good idea, hun,” Janet said, patting Stacy’s shoulder. “And if you ever need a friend, you’ll still have my number.”

Stacy smiled softly. “Thanks, Jan. Hey...whoever moves in after I leave, just...look out for them, okay?”

Janet nodded. “I will, don’t worry.”

—————

Day One Hundred Sixteen in the New House

—————

Finally, Stacy found something.

A lovely little house, in a city two hours away. She got the feeling that it was being advertised as being far away from the current town, but it didn’t seem too far to her. The house was cheap, though she’d still have to dip into her savings, and big enough for her and the boys. The realtor offered for her to come and take a look, but she said that she preferred to purchase now, thank you very much. That probably hiked up the price offer a bit, but she didn’t care. They had to get out of here.

She tried to break the news to the boys gently, taking them out to dinner and telling them there. Larkin seemed to accept it, but Mathew kept asking questions.

“Why are we moving? We just got here!”

“It’s complicated, pumpkin. I’ll explain later.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a town called Rysbuwich. A little ridiculous sounding, but it’s a good town.”

“Can we come back here?”

“We can come to visit, sure, it’s just a couple hours away.”

Eventually, Mathew seemed satisfied as well. He had his one friend’s number and email saved on his phone, so the two of them could still chat, and he could still come visit for events and such. That must’ve been what convinced him.

But then Larkin piped up with a question: “What about the ghost? Are we gonna leave him?”

Stacy smiled tightly, hoping it didn’t seem too forced. “Well, I suppose we’re gonna have to.”

“Aw…” Larkin looked down at the restaurant table. “He’s a lonely ghost, he’ll be all alone and sad.”

“Well, someone else will move in soon enough, so he won’t be lonely anymore.” Or maybe the house would stay empty. Hopefully that would be the case.

—————

Day One Hundred Twenty in the New House

—————

She knew that once she told the kids, she wouldn’t be able to keep the move a secret from the thing in the house for long. Mathew and Larkin would be talking casually about the move with each other, and she couldn’t tell them to just stop doing that and not explain why. So she waited to tell them only a few days before the moving truck arrived.

And arrive, it did. She’d managed to get the boys to pack up all their stuff the night before, and they spent the morning helping the movers put the boxes and furniture in the truck.

There had been no whispers or shadows that whole morning, or the night before. And though that sounded like a good thing, it put Stacy on edge.

“Alright, that’s everything,” she said cheerfully, trying to hide her worry from the kids. “Say goodbye to the house.”

“Um...yeah,” Mathew said, shifting awkwardly.

“Goodbye house!” Larkin said, waving. “Goodbye ghost!”

Stacy tried not to flinch. “Alright, let’s go.” Stacy slung her purse over her shoulder, reaching inside for her car keys. But there was nothing. She opened it, staring inside and pawing through. They weren’t there. But she was sure they’d just been there…

Her heart froze.

“Shoot.” She looked back at the kids. “You guys go ahead, okay? I misplaced my keys, and I’m gonna look for them.”

Mathew nodded. “Alright, Mom. C’mon, Lark.”

The two of them disappeared through the front door, closing it behind them but not closing it all the way. Stacy didn’t bother to close it the rest of the way. She swallowed nervously, and turned back, into the house.

The rooms were empty now, completely void of any decoration. It looked emptier than when they first moved in, since the house had come pre-furnished. But now, they were taking the furniture with them. And all that was left were faded spots on the walls where there used to be chairs, pressed carpet where beds stood. There weren’t a lot of places for her keys to be. They were nowhere in the living room or the first floor hallway, neither on the floor or hanging from the hooks left where photographs used to hang. She headed towards the kitchen to look next.

Stacy was immediately met with an overwhelming sharp smell. She gagged, covering her mouth. The floor was wet, covered in puddles of pale amber liquid. It was trickling from the water main where the fridge was once plugged in, dripping down the cabinet doors, pooling on the tiles. But she saw her keys sitting on the counter. She took a deep breath and walked forward, trying to step over the worst puddles.

The keys were in the middle of the counter. Somehow, in the thirty minutes since she was last in the kitchen, the faux marble countertop had become incredibly dusty, a layer of gray covering its surface. She picked up the keys, stuffing them in her purse.

And then there was a hand on her shoulder.

“where are you going?”

Stacy stiffened, shrugging off the hand. She could feel it standing right behind her. She couldn’t turn around to look at it, so she headed to the open doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room. It followed her, staying close behind. It was close enough that she should be able to feel its breath on her neck. But there was nothing. Somehow, that was worse.

“you’re leaving…”

The dining room was completely empty, scuff marks on the wooden floor where the table and chairs had been. There were dust motes flying through the air, suspended in the beams of sunlight drifting through the windows. Stacy coughed, and quickly circled around the perimeter of the room, feeling it close behind her. She headed back towards the kitchen entrance.

“please don’t leave…”

She sidestepped around the puddles on the floor again, heading back towards the hallway.

It grabbed her shoulder again.

She shook it off, and it grabbed her wrist.

She couldn’t help but yelp this time. Deliberately not looking backwards, she pulled her arm away and ran for the entrance again. She was two steps into the hallway when it grabbed her. Its arms wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides.

“stay with me…” It whispered into her ear. “Forever.”

Stacy didn’t bother to answer. She wriggled against its hold, but it squeezed tighter, choking out her breath. Her foot kicked backwards and connected with something solid, but it didn’t react at all. She struggled to breathe, chest rising and falling. Every time she breathed out, it tightened its hold, giving her less and less room to gasp for air. Black spots were starting to appear before her eyes.

With one last breath, she wrenched her head to the side to look at the thing behind her. She caught sight of a face, liquid trailing down like tears. And then it disappeared. Bending over, she breathed deeply, gulping down as much air as possible. She didn’t even wait to fully recover to run down the hall, back towards the living room and the front door.

She made it to the front room when her vision flickered, and it appeared in front of her. She skidded to a halt, but then it disappeared. It grabbed her from behind again, but this time she shook it off, running for the door.

When she was halfway across the room, the thing started to scream.

No, it wasn’t a scream, it was a wail. A long, keening sound that started on the edge of her hearing and grew to fill her entire mind. She staggered, pressing her hands to her ears. But the sound didn’t lessen. It was like a drill spinning into her brain, a sound that dragged down her heart and filled it with longing.

Stay, it said. Stay, please stay, it said in a voice that wasn’t hers, and it wasn’t the voice of the whispers either. Stay with me, Stacy, it said, mimicking perfectly the voice she’d never thought she’d hear again. Please stay, Stacy, please I’m so lonely, stay, stay—

Stacy turned the knob of the front door and burst outside. The wail suddenly cut off, leaving her strangely breathless. Tears were flowing from her eyes. And for a moment, she still heard that voice, speaking from a place of deep grief. But she knew it wasn’t really him. “You’re gone,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I need to stay here. Maybe I’ll see you again one day. But not before it’s time.”

“Mom? What are you doing?”

“What’s happening?”

She took a deep breath, and then straightened. Mathew and Larkin were standing by the car, staring at her with identical wide eyes. “I just had a moment there,” she said softly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Strangely enough, neither of them pressed the matter. Maybe they didn’t want to think about their mom crying. Stacy promised herself she’d tell them what happened one day. Some time in the future, when they were old enough to understand.

—————

Heading out of the city, they drove past one of the parks. As they did, Stacy suddenly got an impulsive, probably stupid idea. She parked the car, asked Mathew and Larkin to wait, then headed out to the spot she remembered.

The tent was still there. This time the doorway was unzipped. John was laying on the ground, half inside the tent, half outside, turning a small wooden flute over in his hands. He heard her footsteps approaching, and looked up, grinning. “Oh it’s you again. How’re things working out with the thing?”

Stacy walked right up to the tent, stopping a couple feet away. “Pack up your tent and stuff, we’re leaving.”

“Um…” John blinked up at her, suddenly wary. “Are you gonna kill me? Cause if you are, at least tell me beforehand so I can prepare. I mean, I’m not gonna let you, but—”

“What the hell? No!” Stacy shook her head, shocked. “Sorry, my boys are waiting, so I want to hurry instead of leaving them alone. Anyway, we’re leaving. Like you suggested. And I-I mean, if you hadn’t suggested that, I don’t think I would’ve ever...well.” She paused. “So I thought I could, I don’t know, repay you by offering for you to...I don’t know, stay with us? Not in a romantic capacity, of course,” she hurried to add. “You’re not really my type.”

John stared up at her. “You want me...to come live with you.”

“Yeah.” Stacy shrugged. “I mean, only if you want to. It’s the least I can do.”

“You...really don’t want me to come live with you,” John said. “Trust me.”

“Why?”

“Just...you just don’t.”

“Well the new house should have room,” Stacy remembered. “And if you don’t want to stay in a house, you can just put your tent in the yard. Because apparently a lot of places in this country don’t have yards, what do you know? Lots of urban areas, not a lot of suburban ones. But anyway, I figured it would be...nice, to not have to worry about...a lot of things.” She smiled softly.

“I mean, it would,” John admitted. “But there will still be things to worry about. Things that you really, really don’t want to be bothered with.”

“What, you mean like your criminal record?” Stacy asked. “Yeah, I know about that. I just—I think that if—”

“I don’t have any records,” John muttered. “Listen, do you have a computer?”

That was an odd question. “Um, yes, I have my laptop and we have a desktop too.”

“And you have a smart phone? Do your kids have smart phones?”

“I do, yes, but they don’t. Mathew has a flip phone, but I’m not getting him a smart phone until his next birthday. Then Larkin can have the flip phone for emergencies.”

This clearly wasn’t the answer John was looking for. “Look, it’s best for both of us that I don’t go anywhere near you. We had a small visit, but that’s it. Good luck on your...life. I guess.”

Stacy frowned, not one to give up. “Look, I can tell this isn’t...a good situation for you. You don’t even have to interact with me that much if you don’t want to. But you saved my fucking life, so stop being stubborn and let me pay you back.”

John kept staring at her. Then he sighed. “Fine. I’ve been in this town for long enough, anyway. You can give me a ride to wherever you’re going.” He crawled out of the tent and stood up, stretching. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.”

Stacy nodded, smiling brightly. “Great. Thanks, John.”

“‘Thanks’? Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” He chuckled. “Here, hold this.” He tossed the flute at Stacy, and she fumbled to catch it.

“You play the flute?” She asked, examining it.

“I’m trying to. I used to play drums but, you know, it’s not quite portable to have a drum set around.”

“I played bass once. I should take it back up.”

“You do that.”

A few minutes later, Stacy was back in the car, introducing John to Mathew and Larkin, saying he was a friend of hers. Larkin, being the friendly kid he was, cheerfully took to the stranger, but Mathew seemed a bit wary.

“Is your name really John?” Mathew asked, leaning forward from the back seat to talk to John in the passenger’s side.

“No, but you wouldn’t remember my name anyways.”

“What happened to your eye?”

“Ah well you see it’s a long story,” John said grinning. “Starting with both of my eyes bleeding and ending with this one getting sewn shut. And yes, you heard that correctly.”

Mathew glared at him silently for a moment. “Do you like video games?”

“Dude I love video games. I used to play them for a job.”

Mathew considered this. “My favorite’s Breath of the Wild. What’s yours?”

“I like Shadow of the Colossus. You heard of it?”

“Yeah.” Mathew nodded, and settled back. Apparently that had convinced him that this guy was normal enough.

Stacy glanced over at John. “You really think we wouldn’t remember your name?”

“I know you wouldn’t,” John said, staring out the window. “Within a week everyone in this town will forget I was ever here.”

“Surely that’s not tru—”

“It is.”

Stacy fell silent for a moment. “Well, I think you should tell me your name anyway, just in case.”

John sighed a bit, but nodded. “Yeah. Alright.”

The car passed beyond the boundaries of the town. And soon, it wasn’t even visible to the town anymore. The sun set, and life went on as normal, in the small city that hid a secret of its own.

—————

Day One Since She Left

—————

She’d come back.

It was waiting.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye fanfiction #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #tw: horror #tw: suicide mention #tw: stalking #brigid writes fanfiction #horrorseptics

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Text

Moonlit Walk

Prompt for the 19th was: “If you thought you were safe, you thought wrong.” Beware, this prompt is Not Suitable For your Workplace.

“If you thought you were safe, you thought wrong.”

Stern turns to look at the man behind him. His date is smiling, all teeth.

Sharp teeth.

“Remember I said how handsome you look in the moonlight?” The man is shifting, changing, and Stern gazes up at the full moon.

“Shit. Alright, don’t panic, I’m sure there’s a way we can get you somewhere where you can’t hurt anyone or yourself.”

“Aw, it’s cute that you think this is a warning so you can try to save yourself. Hate to break it to you, Joseph, but we didn’t come all the way out here to get cozy. But I meant what I said; You really do look like a snack.” It’s coming out as more of a growl now, and the smile is staying put.

“You can’t, can’t be serious.” He’s already trying to picture his escape route.

“Dead serious. But” he drags his claws down a tree-trunk, nonchalantly, “I’ll give you a sixty second head start. It’ll be more fun that way. One-”

Stern is running before the syllable leaves his mouth. Even as it pounds in his ears, his heart sinks as he notices he’s completely lost.

Not nearly far enough behind him, there’s a howl.

This was not how this night was supposed to go.

He’s been in the sleepy California town of Kepler, researching his newest book of cryptid sightings, for two months. Dating pools are already small in towns like Kepler, even more so when you’re gay. So imagine his pleasure when another visitor approached him a few days ago and asked if he’d like to go on a date. He was charming, and handsome, and Stern was curious and a little bit horny and figured the worst that would happen was some disappointing sex.

They’d had dinner in the lodge where Stern was (is) staying, and he’s had a perfectly decent time. His date wasn’t an amazing conversationalist, but he was pleasant enough, and seemed very into Stern.

The only odd moment had come when, while his date was in the bathroom, the bartender (and cook) came over to personally drop off his drink.

“You doing okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“That guy’s not giving you any trouble?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Huh. Well, uh, lemme know if that changes, okay?”

Now, as he ducks and weaves through the woods, Stern replays that conversation. Wishes he’s paid more attention to what, in retrospect, may have been a warning. Wishes he’d paid attention to their path in the forest, rather than to the many complimentary things his date had said to him.

How does that poem go?

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,

To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed;

Unto an evil counselor close heart, and ear, and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the-

“Fuck” he hisses as he comes to a stop at the edge of a sheer rock face. Cracking branches and panting growls are terrifyingly close. Weighing his options, he grabs the largest stick he can swing; if flight won’t save him, maybe fight will.

“Ooh, bad luck. Guess you’re not as sharp as I thought.” His date lurches through the trees towards him.

“I’m not helpless either. Leave me alone.”

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun” the monster crouches, ready to spring, when a cacophony of snapping branches comes from Sterns left.

“You heard him. Beat it.” Rumbles a voice.

The werewolf must be able to see better in the dark than Stern, because he scoffs “who’s gonna make me, Squatch-boy?”

It’s only when the newcomer steps into the light that Stern sees him too.

Yeah, that’s definitely a Bigfoot.

“Look, man, you’re already in pretty serious trouble. Don’t make me kick your ass on top of it.”

The werewolf snarls and launches himself at the cryptid, who dives to the side and comes up with what appears to be half a dead tree. He swings, sending the lycanthrope flying.

Unfortunately, he flies Sterns way and lands too close for comfort.

“I’m gonna tear you apart youOW!”

Stern hits him with the stick again for good measure, giving Bigfoot time to cross the distance between them and haul the creature into an extremely violent bear-hug. When he throws the wolf to the ground this time, he stays down for a twenty count before stumbling up and limping towards the treeline.

“Fine, asshole, you eat him! Fuck that hurt.” It glares at them once before skulking off into the darkness.

At the implication that Bigfoot sees him as prey, Sterns panic gives an encore. He knows of no accounts suggesting that Bigfoot or cryptids of his kind eat people. But until tonight, Stern didn’t know of any credible accounts of the existence of werewolves, either.

Bigfoot turns to look at him and he raises his stick.

The cryptid holds up his hands, “Whoa, hey, I’m not gonna eat you. That guy’s just being a dick.”

“You’ll forgive me for not being inclined to believe you right now.”

“I swear, I’m mostly harmless.” He kneels, then sits down on the forest floor.

“You are almost two feet taller than me, you have fangs, and you just beat up a werewolf.”

“.....Yeah okay I see your point. Uh” he pats around his body, looking for something, “here, maybe this’ll help.” He slips a woven bracelet on his wrist, and then there’s no more Bigfoot.

Just a bartender.

“Barclay?”

The other man waves sheepishly, “Hey. Uh, this making you feel better?”

“It’s mainly increasing my confusion.”

Barclay scratches the back of his neck, “There’s more than I can really explain right now, especially without checking with some other people first. The main thing is what you already saw; there’s monsters running around, and they can look like humans.”

“There’s more than just the two of you?”

“Lots more. Most of us are really chill. I haven’t seen that guy before, so I think he might have either just come through from our home or be passing through from another town. Either way, he’s the only werewolf I’ve ever seen who’d pull a stunt like this.”

“There are other werewolves?” Stern cautiously lays the stick down.

“Most of them are having a chess club meeting tonight.” Barclay shrugs.

Stern slowly settles onto the ground, heart rate returning to normal, “That’s why you asked me about him, isn’t it?’

“I wasn’t sure if he was what I thought, because I hadn’t seen him before. I just got a kinda predatory vibe off of him. When I saw you two heading out here I got suspicious and followed you. After letting Mama know my hunch.”

Stern nods, beginning to understand. Mama runs the lodge, and if anyone in town looks prepared to handle a monster, it’s her.

“Do you wanna continue this conversation back at the lodge?”

“Yes, please.” Stern ought to stand up, but the idea of doing so sounds exhausting. Barclay gets up, walks the several feet between them and holds out his hand. Stern takes it, gratefully.

“Is the lodge close? I’m so goddamn turned around, I feel like such a fool for not even paying enough attention to know where I am in relation town.”

“He turned you around on purpose.”

“By stroking my ego with nice words, and I fell for it.” Stern mutters.

“Try not to beat yourself up, okay?” Barclay rests his free hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll do my best.”

They start back through the trees, Barclay keeping a protective arm around the shorter man.

“You’re taking me being Bigfoot pretty well.”

“Honestly, I just processed so much unexpected information in such a short time that I’m still sorting through all my feelings.”

“...Are you trying to decide whether to ask me for help with you research?”

Stern looks over at him, finds a wry, sweet smile heading his direction.

“Perhaps.”

“Gotta buy me a drink first.”

“Barclay, you are the one serving them. You can have one for free whenever you want.”

“Not from a cute guy I can’t.”

Sterns’ cheeks heat up at the same time his stomach twists, compliments in the dark woods now linked to danger in his brain. Barclay notices the reaction, clears his throat.

“Did you get a chance to finish that book I gave you?”

“It was spectacular, I stayed up all night a few days ago to read it. I meant to give it back, but I’ve been swamped with research just like you’ve been swamped with customers.”

“Really has been hectic the last few days. Think we got written up somewhere again.”

“Does that happen often?” Stern picks his way over a fallen log, Barclay offering a hand to steady him.

“Every now and then Sunset or somesuch writes about Kepler as a nice weekend vacation spot. Lodge gets mentioned every time, usually as a place to eat.”

“As it should. You’re an amazing chef, Barclay.”

It’s a pity the moonlight washes the world out; he’s fairly certain Barclay is blushing.

When the lodge comes into view, a figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat approaches them, coalescing into the shape of Duck Newton, local ranger.

“Mama wanted me to let you both know that she’s taken care of the issue.”

Barclay groans, “she didn’t kill him, did she?”

“Nope, just put the fear of god into him and chased him across the border into the next county in her pick-up. Accordin to ‘Drid, no futures of him comin back.”

“That’s...good?” Stern isn’t quite sure how Duck’s tall, gangly husband can be so sure.

“Whelp, I better be headin home. Evenin you two, glad you didn’t get eaten.” He tips his hat and heads off towards the parking lot.

Stern rubs his arms, nerves still refusing to quiet entirely.

“Kitchen’s closed, but I got a little kitchenette in my room, could make you some tea. Uh, if you want.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Soon he’s seated on Barclays green, plaid bed-spread as the larger man putters around the small stove. Barclay keeps up a quiet, consistent chatter, seeming to understand that Stern is craving the reassurance of a friendly, familiar voice.

“...Anyway, it turns out it’s even harder than you’d think to get caramel syrup out of your beard.”

Stern laughs at the image, reaches for the mug Barclay offers him. The trouble is, he can’t make his hands grab it. It nearly drops on the floor, but Barclay cups his hands around Sterns to keep them steady,

“Everything okay?”

“I, it’s like my limbs are numb but full of little, buzzing bugs all at once and I can’t make them grip anything. It’s an adrenaline reaction I get some time.”

“Is there a way I can help?” The question is gentle, earnest, Barclay staring down at him with those deep brown eyes. Stern glances down, trying to ignore the lewd thoughts flooding his head at Barclays offer. Instead he counts the various scars on Barclays hands, wonders which are remnants of kitchen incidents and which are reminders of monster battles.

In spite of this distraction, his mind offers up thoughts. Thoughts of how Barclay brings him his coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar already added, while all the other guests have to add theirs at the table. How more than a few nights, he’s kept Stern company while he pours over notes and researches leads, busying himself with looking over recipes or cleaning the bar.

Thoughts of how more than once, Barclay’s given Stern a shy once-over, a thing he’d previously never thought possible. How the few times the bartender complimented him, Stern glowed for hours afterwards.

He looks back up, finds the other man waiting on his answer.

It doesn’t take much, merely a soft tug on Barclays hands, to bring him close enough for a kiss. He gets surprised, short moan in response, pulls back to smile at him.

“I don’t know about you, Barclay, but I can think of some far more enjoyable ways to burn off adrenaline than sipping tea.”

“Got that right. And I’m happy to do them, as long as you promise me you’re not doing this because you think it’s something you owe me.”

“I’m not.”

Barclay takes the mug from Sterns hands, sets it down on the bedside table calmly.

Then he makes a surprisingly graceful hop-flop onto the bed, and pulls Stern on top of him. The fire in Sterns system is instantaneous, and he frantically kisses Barclay while tugging at his shirt and grinding against him. When the shirt proves too difficult, he goes for Barclays belt, but the other man grabs both his hands with one of his own, grips his hip to keep him still with little effort (good lord he is strong).

“Much as I appreciate the thought, babe, I wanna make it all about getting you off right now. You’ve had a hard night. Will you let me make you feel good?”

Stern cups his face and kisses him hard and happy, nodding as best he can.

“Lay back and get comfy.”

Stern tears his shirt off like it’s on fire, gives his slacks the same treatment. Barclay chuckles, undoes his flannel and drops it on the floor. Then he kneels down, grabs Sterns ankles and slides him down to the edge of the bed, eases his underwear off once he’s there. Then hooks Sterns legs over his shoulders, nuzzles his inner thighs with a low, rumbling purr.

“Want me to suck your dick?”

“Oh lord yes, please, yesYESohhhhh.” His heels dig into Barclays back at the first firm swipe of his tongue. Barclay huffs out warm, laughing breath against him before continuing to circle and swirl along his folds, Stern whimpering whenever his tongue teases at his dick. The room steadily fills with his moans, the odd laugh when Barclays beard tickles his skin, and the other mans panting, pleased purr.

Barclay pulls back just a little, kissing Sterns’ hips and thighs as he groans, “fuck, love doing this to you, love hearing you moan baby, god, wanna make you feel so good.”

“You’re doing, ah, so well, oh lord Barclay please don’t stop.”

“Not planning to.” Is all he hears before Barclay dives back down, moaning around his cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The noise rumbling out of him is no longer a purr, it’s a growl, Barclays ministrations becoming messier, more animalistic, with every second. Stern is matching his enthusiasm , no longer content to lay back and be lavished with pleasure. Instead he chases it, grinding against Barclays face, which only serves to make the man on the floor growl louder.

“That’s so good, you’re so good, ohlordfuck” he grips that endearingly shaggy hair, “right there, please right thererighttherrerightthereOHhhhh.” His eyes shut as his orgasm floods him, and a comforting pressure registers on his thigh as Barclay rests his chin against it to watch him come.

“Better?”

“Yes. Would, would you like to uh, not be on the floor.” He gestures weakly at the bed, hoping Barclay gets the gist.

He does, climbing onto the mattress and rolling Stern into his arms.

“Give me a moment and I can re-” he yawns, the long-awaited crash finally hitting him, “-ciprocate.”

“Don’t worry about it, okay babe?”

“But you’re clearly turned on. I’m fairly certain I felt you trying to hump the side of the bed while you were down there.”

“I mean yeah, because you’re real fucking hot and I like doing that. But you’re already going limp and sleepy on me.” He lifts Sterns hand, which thwaps back onto the bed because he doesn’t have the energy to even think about keeping it up.

“Suppose you’re right. And you’re very comfortable.”

“If you want, tomorrow you can nap on me while I’m Bigfoot.”

“I’d” another yawn “like that.” Then a rather ridiculous thought occurs to him and he begins laughing “I never need to work a day in my life again. I’m just going to sell my story to the National Enquirer for a million dollars.”

Barclay belly-laughs, cuddling Stern closer, “Go to sleep, you goofball.”

“Won’t be calling me that when my feature, ‘Bigfoot is real and he sucked my dick’ goes viral.”

“You can only write that if I get a cut.”

Stern blinks sleepily up at him, kisses the goofy smile spreading across his face, “deal.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #promptober #AUs

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themurphyzone · 6 years ago

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Absolutely Disastrous Ch 8

Ch 8: Lost in the Woods! Another Costumed Weirdo?

“I think we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost. We’ve taken a slight detour from the recommended path.”

“So we’re lost.”

“Think of it as the scenic route,” Milo suggested, looking at his map again. Before he could show Melissa and Zack their current location in the Petalburg Woods, a Linoone snatched the paper out of his hands and disappeared into a clump of berry bushes.

Unfazed, Milo brought out a second map. “Okay, so we’re near a bunch of Oran trees right now, so if we head north we should see some birches and hang the second right.”

Zack groaned, resting his back against a mossy rock. “Too bad everything looks the same.”

“I also have a topography map, a latitude map, and a map of Silph Co’s ventilation and teleporter system,” Milo said. “Never really understood their teleporter thing. Seems kinda bad for employee morale.”

They’d been wandering around Petalburg Woods all morning, and so far they’d had little luck making sense of their surroundings. Every tree looked the same, packed together so densely that it was almost impossible to tell where one tree ended and another began. He’d heard ghost stories of a forest in Sinnoh. According to the tales, it was always nighttime because the sun’s rays never reached the ground, making it a prime spot for ghosts to lure unsuspecting travelers to their dilapidated manor.

Dr. Magnezone fans loved using Sinnoh’s folklore and ghost stories as inspiration. Milo once saw Sara cry over a fanfic where Dr. Magnezone had to search for a Lunar Wing to relieve Time Infernape of a Darkrai-inflicted nightmare before the stress killed him.

“Hey, let’s break for a bit,” Melissa said. She laid down on a large protruding root. “I can’t wait to get out of forest territory.”

Milo found a cozy spot next to a fallen log, and Zack reclined against a tree trunk.

“Zack, there’s gotta be some spooky tales in Johto,” Milo said. “You should tell us one!”

“Yeah, spill!” Melissa prodded Zack in the arm.

Zack winced and rubbed his arm. “Do you cut your nails into claws or something?”

Melissa shrugged. “I jab hard, Underwood. You gonna tell us a ghost story or what?”

“Neither of you are gonna let up until I tell you one, huh?” Zack sighed.

“Nope!” Milo and Melissa chorused. Diogee looked up from his water bowl, red eyes boring expectantly into Zack.

“Fine,” Zack said. “This one isn’t for the faint of heart, so be warned.”

Milo and Melissa leaned forward in anticipation.

“Two millennia ago, a beautiful maiden fell in love with a soldier. One day, the soldier had to go fight in a distant land. As the maiden watched him disappear over the horizon, she swore she would never fall in love with anyone else, and that she would always look towards the ocean in anticipation of his return.”

Milo’s eyes started to water. Melissa gripped her skirt tightly.

“The years passed, but she still waited. Every suitor was turned down, all attempts to coax her away from the cliff failed. Eventually, a deity took pity on her. She agreed to be transformed into a statue atop the cliff so she could continue watching the horizon. The deity also appointed a messenger Pokémon to maintain the house and keep the maiden’s soul company while she kept her eternal vigil. To this day, she continues to wait and pray.”

Milo wiped away a stray tear, and Diogee had to carefully nudge him a few feet so a tree didn’t crash on top of him.

“That was…sad,” Melissa admitted. “How ‘bout something in the horror department to even it out?”

“Gimme a minute,” Milo said, burying his face into Diogee’s fur to calm himself down. “I got one.”

He took a deep breath, holding a flashlight under his chin for added dramatic effect. Zack drew a sharp breath.

“Once there was a little girl who lived in a cottage. Her mommy and daddy scrounged and begged and pleaded for scraps of food, for they were poorer than dirt,” Milo began, keeping his voice so low that Melissa and Zack had to strain to hear him.

He paced as he continued the story, feeling three sets of innocent eyes processing every word and movement. Milo smirked and continued. “One day, the little girl was left alone in the house. As she did her daily chores like any good child would do, she looked out the window. A doll laid in the dirt, its seams torn and one of its button eyes missing. It was ugly and nobody would’ve spared a second glance. But the little girl took pity on the doll and fixed it up with the only bolt of spare fabric her family had.”

“Oh no,” Zack whispered. Melissa elbowed him.

“When the last seam was closed, the doll offered to grant three wishes for the little girl. First, she wished that her family would never go hungry again. That night, her parents came home to find a feast fit for a royal banquet waiting for them. The little girl showed them the doll and explained what she’d done, and her parents were too grateful to question her any further. But trouble arose when the mother didn’t have material to make new clothes with, so the little girl asked the doll for endless wealth so her mother could purchase the finest and rarest silks and wool. The doll granted the second wish, and the family lived happily for many years.”

“The little girl grew into a beautiful woman, and she attracted the attention of a prince. They courted for a while, and the woman showed him the doll who’d saved her family from poverty. Disgusted by its horrible appearance, the prince broke off their engagement and rode away into the night. Because she still loved him, the woman asked the doll to grant her final wish: have the prince fall back in love with her. Once it was granted, the woman laid the doll on her childhood bed and went back to the castle. She planned to never return to the cottage and sever all ties with her poverty-filled life to make sure the prince stayed in love with her.”

Milo paused. The tension was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

“The woman married the prince and forgot all about the doll. But the doll never forgot her. It granted all her wishes without complaint. It kept her company for ten years. And now it laid in a dark room, never to see the sun again. Anger consumed its mind. Oh, how it thirsted for vengeance. It flew to the castle on an otherworldly energy, and there it spotted the woman, brushing her hair…alone.”

He could see the whites of Zack’s eyes, and Milo crept closer, curling his hands into claws and looming as best he could.

“It crept closer…closer…closer…” Milo punctuated each word with a silent step until he hovered over Zack. Zack pressed himself against the tree with a strangled yelp.

“-and then it POUNCED!”

“AIYEEEH!”

Milo pulled Zack to his feet, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “Oh man!” Milo doubled over. “That was, ha! Got you real good!”

Zack just stared at him. “I didn’t scream.”

“Wasn’t me either,” Melissa said. “Believe me, you would know if Zack screamed cause he sounds like a plucked Swellow. Whoever screamed a few minutes ago has more of a tone-deaf Loudred combined with a sick Swablu frequency.”

“I don’t sound like a plucked Swellow,” Zack mumbled.

“NO! DON’T TAKE MY PAPERS!”

Everyone jumped to their feet as a terrified businessman rushed past their resting spot and tripped over a large root. His briefcase spilled open, papers fluttering all around him. He dazedly shoved them back into the briefcase, muttering several curses to himself.

“Hand over those papers, old man!” another voice snarled.

The other man was dressed in a lava-red uniform, a stylized ‘M’ emblazoned across his chest. His hood had two strange horns on top. Milo stared at him, wondering why someone would choose to wear a thick red onesie in Hoenn’s tropical climate.

Diogee growled menacingly, only backing off when Milo gestured for him to stand down until they figured out what happened.

“What’s going on here?” Melissa asked.

“He’s trying to rob me!” the businessman shouted. “I swear, all I did was stop to take pictures of a Shroomish-I’ve always liked that Pokémon, you see-and Hoodie there jumped me and tried to steal my documents!”

“How many times have I told you to quit calling me Hoodie? It’s Ignacio! I-G-N-A-C-I-O!”

His protests went ignored as the group collected all the stray papers and put them back into the suitcase.

“Thank you, children,” the businessman gasped breathlessly. “I’m just gonna be going now and-“

Ignacio scowled. “You aren’t going anywhere! Hand over those papers or face the wrath of Team Magma!”

He posed dramatically, which would’ve looked a lot more threatening if he’d chosen a target without knowledge of meme culture.

Ignacio released a Zigzagoon and Koffing. “You’ve trampled on Team Magma’s dreams, and that’s unforgivable! For I am the Magma Grunt Ignacio who stands for humanity’s brighter tomorrow! In the name of Groudon, I shall incinerate you!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be saying love and justice or something?” Melissa asked.

“I wanted to, but it was copyrighted,” Ignacio admitted. “Seriously, I’m not a monster. I respect copyright law.”

“Whatever. I’ll sit this one out, boys,” Melissa said, dragging the businessman out of the way. “While you kick his butt, I’ll be organizing my photos.”

“I don’t remember you taking photos,” Zack said.

Melissa smirked. “I work in mysterious ways.”

“Enough babbling!” Ignacio sneered. “You fools will know the wrath of the 27th ranked Magma goon!”

“That’s supposed to be a bragging point?” Zack scoffed as he sent out Treecko.

Treecko chewed on his stick placidly as he sized up his opponents. Diogee moved into position, eyes fixated on Koffing.

Living near Mt. Chimney had long acquainted Milo and Diogee with the local Pokémon and their habits. Machop liked to test their strength by weightlifting Geodude, and one should never disturb their contests unless they wanted 44.1 pounds of living rock hurtled at them. Numel preferred sand baths, and Torkoal could only distinguish between light and dark.

On the Murphy Ranch, they sometimes had to announce the Purple Protocol in the event of a Koffing wandering onto the property. Its smoke and poisonous gas was harmful to the developing lungs of young humans and Absol, so all minors were to stay inside until the adults had gotten rid of the smoke and contained the Koffing until it could be relocated.

And it had the only type advantage on the current battlefield.

This was gonna be interesting.

“Create a Smokescreen cover!” Ignacio ordered. “Zigzagoon, Quick Attack on Treecko!”

Black gas spewed out of Koffing’s pores, obscuring it from view. Treecko braced himself, eyes trained on the smoke.

There was a slight rustle in the bushes behind Treecko, and a blurred shape shot out.

“Look out!” Zack yelled.

Zigzagoon knocked Treecko off-balance, though Treecko managed to dislodge it with a Pound. Soon the two were engaged in a high-speed Quick Attack fight.

Meanwhile, Milo and Diogee were trying to locate Koffing inside all the black haze with no luck.

Ignacio smirked. “Use Sludge!”

“Diogee, watch out!” Milo warned, but it was too late. Diogee’s eyes were covered in an inky material. Rearing back on his hind legs, Diogee unleashed several Cut attacks in random directions. One of them hit Koffing in the middle of its skull pattern, and another clipped Treecko’s tail. Zigzagoon emerged unscathed, though it panted heavily from exertion.

A pile of splintered wood and apples crashed to the ground. There were some indignant squawks from bird Pokémon above, but none of them came down to disrupt the battle.

Zack snapped his fingers. “Use Mega Drain on Zigzagoon and get your strength back,” he said.

Zigzagoon was too dazed to follow Ignacio’s instructions to dodge, and a bright green glow lit up its body. The energy flowed into Treecko’s fingertips, rejuvenating him instantly.

“Great! Now grab those apples and stuff ‘em into Koffing’s pores!” Zack exclaimed.

Upon hearing his command, Melissa stuffed her unfinished scrapbook into her bag and hauled the businessman to his feet. “Zack, you do realize-“

Zack had a gleam in his eye.

“Uh, Melissa, I think your battle style’s rubbing off on him,” Milo said awkwardly.

Treecko grabbed a handful of apples and weaved around Koffing, easily outmaneuvering the Poison-type. Within minutes, Koffing’s pores were plugged, Treecko dusting his hands triumphantly.

“C’mon, blow those apples out!” Ignacio screeched.

Koffing groaned, eyes squeezed shut as it tried to blow the apples out. But Treecko had jammed them tightly, and only minuscule amounts of gas leaked into the air. With one last inhale, a glowing Koffing dropped into Treecko’s arms.

Treecko blinked for a moment, then tossed Koffing at Zack and hid behind Melissa, who backed away slowly.

“ACK!” Zack screamed and tossed the Poison-type at Milo.

“It’s using Self-Destruct!” Milo yelped, striking Koffing with a two-handed serve that would’ve made a professional volleyball player proud.

The Koffing landed in the businessman’s arms. The man paled immediately. “GlorytoArceusinthehighest,” he muttered a prayer rapidly in some ancient language Milo wasn’t even sure existed in their dimension.

“Quit being a baby!” Melissa snapped, yanking Koffing out of his arms and hurling it at Ignacio’s face.

But since Melissa was Melissa, she only managed to toss it one foot.

Koffing unceremoniously fell to the ground, its glow almost blinding.

“Diogee, follow my voice!” Milo yelled, grabbing Diogee’s horn once he was close enough and guiding him out of the blast radius.

“COWARDS!” Ignacio shook his fist as everyone fled the immediate vicinity. “WE IN TEAM MAGMA ALWAYS STAND OUR GROUND! FOR WE ARE PILLARS OF HUMANITY, UNYIELDING IN RESOLVE AND PUTTING OUR FOOT DOWN ON ALL MATTERS AND CRUSHING THOSE WHO OPPOSE US!”

“We should put him and Patchy in a room together,” Melissa remarked. “Who needs primetime television when you’ve got them?”

“You might want to reconsider your foot position,” Milo called to Ignacio.

Ignacio glanced down, his eyes widening to comical proportions.

“Well, crud.”

Koffing exploded in a glorious blaze of white light.

“Don’t worry,” Melissa told the trembling businessman, who seemed convinced that he would be arrested for environmental disturbances and manslaughter. “It’s just his pride that didn’t survive.”

AN: Ghost of Maiden’s Peak took place in Kanto, not Johto, but they share the same landmass so what the hey.

Using Koffing as a beach ball is ill-advised.

And now Team Magma is on the scene! Things are picking up!

#absolutely disastrous #milo murphy's law #melissa chase #zack underwood #diogee #oras au

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xfandomimagines · 7 years ago

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STAR-CROSSED LOVERS (AN AU PETER PARKER IMAGINE) - PART TWO

Summary: One night at a party hosted by her father’s rival, Y/N meets Peter Parker and the two instantly connect. However, she has no idea that he’s the intern of Tony Stark, the rival.

Gender: Female

Notes: BALCONY SCENE!!! I was so excited to write that, aha, and I tried my best to fit in a version of “A rose by another name would smell as sweet” so I hope you can recognise which line that is.

This is queued for while I’m away. The third part will be up when I return home.

{REQUESTS ARE OPEN}

When you returned home your dad was waiting for you in the living room, an angry glare on his face. Between leaving the party and arriving home, Happy, Tony’s assistant, had called him up and told him about the situation and he was now livid. You had gotten a lecture, about how disappointed he was in you and how he’d expect this from Clint, even Wanda to some extent, but he thought you knew better. It hurt you knowing he was let down at what you’d done, especially since you didn’t originally want to go in the first place, but the fact that you’d met Peter there you couldn’t regret it. You knew it was wrong to fall for one of your supposed enemies but it was impossible to find anything bad about him.

You finally escaped your dad with a punishment of being grounded for the weekend, and you checked your phone as you finally collapsed on your bed. Wanda had sent you a quick text saying she and Clint had gotten home safely, and she hoped Steve wasn’t too hard on you. You replied quickly, before shutting off your phone.

The only person your mind was Peter. What had Tony told him about you? You assumed he now knew who you were after what had happened, and you prayed to whatever was out there that it didn’t make him feel any different about you. It didn’t you for him. Of course you knew it would be hard, and you didn’t even know if you would see him again, but your feelings hadn’t changed. They would never.

You stepped out onto your bedroom’s balcony, looking out at the city skyline. Why did Peter have to be on Tony’s side? It had to be your luck that the person you fell for was meant to be your enemy. This shouldn’t even apply to you both anyway. The feud was between Tony and Steve, not you and Peter. If he was an intern to anyone else in the city, you would have none of these issues.

“Why must you intern for Tony Stark? You could pick any businessman in the city and it was him?” You spoke out loud to yourself, thinking you were alone. “If Peter was working for anyone else he would still be Peter, so why must who he’s working for matter?” You sighed, resting against the balcony wall. “I really wish I could see you again.”

“Then look down.”

You jumped in surprise, quickly leaning of the wall to see Peter on the sidewalk below.

“Peter? How did you find out where I live?”

“Ned’s very good with computers, he found it out.” Peter explained. You looked at him worriedly.

“Should I be worried that you can find my address online?”

“Oh, no! Ned had to do some hacking to find it.” Peter shrugged, as if hacking was no big deal. You laughed at the flippancy of the comment, this boy was adorable.

“There’s a fire escape just round the corner if you want to come up. It’s just a small jump from the platform at this level to this balcony.” You told him. Peter nodded and quickly made his way up to you.

Once Peter was stood in front of you on the balcony, he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him, kissing you deeply. Your arms wound themselves around his neck, hands tangling in his hair as you pushed yourself as close as possible. Even after knowing this boy for a few hours, kissing him felt like coming home, that enclosed in his arms was where you were meant to be.

“That’s certainly the best greeting I’ve ever had.” You laughed, breathlessly. Peter grinned, and you tugged him down to floor, sitting side by side against the wall, your knees touching. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

“Because of what happened?”

You nodded. “I don’t know what Tony told you about us, me, but I certainly know he would never allow this.”

“He told me about Steve, that you were his daughter, and that under no circumstances I was to have any connection to any of you.” Peter said and you looked away at the floor. Of course Tony said that, you knew this but a small part of you still had hope that it wouldn’t matter. “But that doesn’t mean I have to listen to him.”

“Yeah, well, my dad would also say the same thing and unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of ignoring him.” You laughed bitterly. Peter cupped your cheek and turned you to face him.

“Then we don’t tell him. Either of them.” Peter decided. You were still slightly hesitant, knowing that if your dad ever found out then he would have Peter’s head on a platter. Literally. However, seeing Peter looking at you so longingly with such hope, you knew what your answer would be.

“Okay.”

Peter beamed. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, a grin creeping onto your face as well. Peter kissed you sweetly, all of the love and adoration between you pouring into this one kiss, and you giggled against his lips. You both knew it was risky, if anyone found out then you couldn’t imagine what would happen, but here in this moment you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“Can I see you this weekend?” Peter asked, and you sighed.

“I can’t. I’m grounded for the weekend because of the party tonight. I can on Monday.” Peter groaned, exaggeratedly. “It’s only two days you can manage.”

“I barely managed a few hours.” Peter said, sweetly. You pressed another quick kiss to his lips.

“Y/N?”

You both sprang apart, and you rushed into your bedroom, pushing your back against the door. “Don’t come in I’m not decent!”

Peter looked at you suggestively and you laughed quietly, rolling your eyes.

“You dad wants you in bed. It’s almost midnight.” Bucky relayed from the other side of the door.

“Okay!” You stayed pressed against the door, listening as Bucky moved away and once it was quiet you exhaled in relief. “You need to go. I’ll meet you in Central Park straight after I finish school.”

“I’ll be there.” Peter confirmed, and you held each other in a tight embrace before Peter jumped back over to the fire escape and made his descent back to the street. You watched him over the balcony, waving as he went out of view.

The Skype call connected, Wanda’s face popping onto your screen. It had been a few days since Peter turned up at your balcony, and ever since then you two had been texting constantly. You were still worried that your dad would find out but Peter constantly reassured you that you’d be careful, and suggested getting someone to be your alibi for when you were together if that helped.

That’s why you were on Skype to Wanda. You thought she would be the best option out of everyone to help, and the least likely to snitch on you to Steve. You also considered asking Clint but after the party you were unsure if Steve would trust him.

“How’s being grounded?” Wanda asked in greeting.

“Deal-able.” You shrugged. “How was Clint’s hangover and how was he after my dad got a hold of him?”

“Not deal-able.” Wanda laughed. “Your dad can be pretty scary when he wants to be, and Clint spent the entirety of yesterday morning bent over the toilet bowl.” You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

“Lovely.”

“Right? So what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?” You texted Wanda that you needed to talk face-to-face a few hours earlier, not wanting to explain the situation over the phone. You quickly double-checked that your door was closed and neither your dad nor Bucky were within earshot.

“I’m seeing someone.”

Wanda let out a squeal. “Who is he? What’s he like? When did you meet?”

“That’s the issue.” You sighed. Just get it over with, Rogers, it’s like ripping off a band aid. “It’s Peter Parker, Tony’s new intern.”

“Are you serious? Your dad will murder him. I mean that literally.” Wanda warned, looking at you in concern.

“I know, and that’s why I need your help! I need you to be my alibi for when I’m with him. Tell my dad that you’re helping me with my studies if he asks or calls or something.” You pleaded. If Wanda didn’t agree to this, you didn’t know what you were going to do.

“Is this worth it? I mean, it seems like so much hard work to see a guy you’ve only just met.”

“It’s crazy, and I realise I’ve only just met him, but there’s something different about him.” You explained, a dreamy look developing on your face as you talked about him. “Whenever I’m with Peter, it feels like I’ve known him forever. It feels like coming home. I’ve only been with him twice and I feel more strongly for him than I have anyone else in my entire life.”

“You really want this, don’t you?” Wanda realised.

“So much.”

“Fine, I’ll help.” You immediately perked up at that, thanking her profusely. “Just promise me you’ll at least try and be careful.”

“I will, I swear.”

You spent the next hour planning with Wanda about how you were going work this. You decided on saying you were going over to Wanda’s apartment to either study or just hang out depending on what school work was like, and you would text Wanda the times and dates of when she needed to cover for you, as well as the cover story to use for that time.

As soon as school let out on Monday, you wasted no time in heading straight to Central Park as fast as you could, thankful that you had recently gotten your license. You found a spare bench in a secluded section of the park so you would be less likely to be spotted by someone who recognised either of you.

To Peter: I’m here, just up the path from the ice cream van.

To Y/N: A couple of minutes away. Can’t get there fast enough.

You smiled and pocketed your phone before leaning back on the bench, watching an old man across the way feeding the pigeons. He saw you watching and gave you a short wave which you returned.

A few minutes later and you saw Peter heading in your direction and you immediately grinned, waving at him as he jogged the last few steps over to you.

“Hey.” Peter said, sitting beside you and immediately engulfing you in his arms.

You guys stayed there talking and cuddling for what felt like only a few minutes but was actually a couple of hours. Every time you learnt something new about Peter, you fell for him just a little bit more. He told you about his Aunt May, Ned, who you learnt was his best friend since middle school ever since they bonded over Star Wars after Peter saw Ned’s Storm Trooper backpack, and how he loved science and photography.

In return, you told him all about yourself. Your favourite hobbies and how you met Steve six years ago when you were ten when you ran away from your current foster home and ended up at Sam’s Veteran Meeting in which Steve was attending. Steve escorted you back but by that point you had already latched onto him, the first person since your father abandoned you, and Steve knew he had to bring you back home with him. So he filed for adoption as soon as he could and few months later you were living in your current apartment with Bucky and him.

Peter also told you about his own parents. How they were often on missions for the CIA and often left him with his Aunt May, then one day they never returned after being killed on the job. The fact that it had been 10 years since that happened and even though he could barely remember them all that much he still loved and missed them dearly.

When it reached the time for you to leave, you and Peter knew each other so much more intimately, and you knew for certain that you were already falling in love with this boy. Before heading back to your car, you quickly grabbed a frozen yogurt from the store near the car park.

“I don’t understand how you can eat that much sugar.” You laughed, watching Peter tuck into a chocolate flavoured yogurt, with extra sprinkles, mini marshmallows and toffee sauce.

“It’s so good though!” Peter exclaimed around a mouthful of yogurt. You shook your head, taking a polite spoonful of your own raspberry flavoured one.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You smirked. Finally, you reached your car and you rested the tub on the roof as you turned around to say goodbye. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?”

Peter nodded. “It’ll be safer for me to just catch the bus.”

“I’ll message you as soon as I get home.” You promised, running a hand through his hair. Peter placed his own yogurt tub beside yours.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Peter said. He kissed you, meaning for it to be one quick goodbye kiss, but you ended up having a full make out session against your car, not able to bring yourself to separate. You never wanted to be apart from Peter, he was the best thing in your life right now, possibly ever.

Finally, you managed to say your last goodbyes and you hopped in your car, smiling at Peter with a wave as you started to head back home.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines #peter parker #spiderman #avengers #avengers imagine #star crossed lovers

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burn-this-world · 6 years ago

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The apology I never sent:

To: Her

From: Me

Subject: Don’t freak out. This is a good this, I swear!

(Im sending this with the assumption the email address will go to spam like you had it set before. If it hasn’t; or your reading this because you looked in the folder, then I’m sorry this is long...

I hope you can smile by the end of it. Please read it before you decide what to do. I know it’s a breach of the dvo, and there is nothing that will follow this. Please don’t take offence.)

Hi, Dana,

It’s been a while, a long long while, don’t freak out please. I have the best intentions.

One sentence tldr: I am doing great, I’m not that person anymore, and I have moved on as a much better person because of it, and just needed to apologise for the pain I caused when I broke down, to feel at peace with my growth and like a good person again.

Look, I know this is probably too soon, and what you do with the email is completely up to you. Im really hoping enough time has passed that this will be okay... I know you have a whole different life now, and so do I, and I will continue to respect your space and this distance. I’m not here to disrupt your new path, cause any fear, or change your mind, hear me out.

These last few month have been some of the best of my life. I feel like a happy, healthy, well-regulated person for the first time in my life. I hadn’t thought about you in months.

After I read your affidavit at court that day, it made me see how toxic I was and how not okay my actions toward you were. It made me so ashamed that it forced me to take accountability for fixing myself and my life.

I feel like I’ve made so much progress to being the best me possible and loving myself for the first time ever. The final item to cross off the list and truly close that chapter, is to apologise to you for what I did. That is all really. I have also written the entire story behind it as to hopefully fully explain my thinking of taking this stupid stupid stupid risk of sending this apology. So here goes;

I hope you’re happy, I truly, honestly do. There is no jealousy or hate in my words. When I hit rock bottom, reading your affidavit was a painful truth. Ever since then, i became determined to bounce back, better and stronger than before, and never ever be that manipulative, unstable, abusive, dependant asshole again. I’m proud of how far I’ve come in keeping that word to myself.

Im not trying to be apart of your life with this, that is not the point of what I’m trying to say. It’s to say I’ve come so far healing, that if I re-lived the breakup as strong as I am now, I would high five you whenever you had had decided to tell me about that night, like the friend I said I’d be would have done. And I suppose that’s the point of this, it is not to you my ex-girlfriend, it is to you my ex-best friend.

I would have been more supportive of your decision and not the jealous, emotional and abusive way I was. I am honestly happy for you, whatever you’re up to. I’m sure you’re doing big things, and I wish nothing but the best for your future, I know you’ll kill it.

You breaking things off was the best decision for both of our sakes, and I’m thankful you were storing enough to do it. I mean, sure... it does suck a little that I ruined us being able to be friends... but from it I learned to be a better person, so it wasn’t for nothing. I’m better focused on the whole picture of my life, and so driven to succeed at it, with happiness. I’ve stopped letting a small moment that everyone goes through(and better than I did) hold me back.

I know a lot happened that is probably unforgivable, and I know I made your life harder than it should have ever been, and I regret that a lot... I said and did some shameful things, but please know that is not who I am any more. I am somebody to be proud of. And, as jealous and mad as I was towards Kurt, I am happy you guys found each other and have lasted, honestly. Congratulations on one year.

As much as my friends say it shouldn’t be any of your business where I’m at, a bit of me still kind’ve thinks you might care that I’m doing well too, and that I am doing so much better with my mental health. You always cared through everything, even as I was horrible.

I need you to know I’m not that scary person anymore, and I really really don’t want you to remember me like that. I’ve never been able to say this before in my life, but I am finally honestly happy and proud of where I am. I’m a new person, one at peace, one who will not try and talk to you if see me, or try and get your attention with stupid shit. One who has truly moved on, free of my mental instability.

I took responsibility for learning to be better from my actions, and I’m now ready to move out on my very own, and cant still buy a new car. I religiously go to the gym, and play golf every weekend. I even quit smoking and gambling, as well as drugs, and cut down alcohol, I even started playing music again! It took a year of therapy, and several books, and month of work. But I did get better.

I’m proud of my progress, and I hope you can be to. I feel better than I ever have, I feel unstoppable. I learnt to love myself, and understand my mind, before trying to love anyone else, and I think I’ve finally found happiness with that. I’m ready to be a part of the world again; and this is me stepping into it again.

I expected me to take longer to get to this point, but here I am, and the last step to my “bounce back” plan is to say thank you:

Thank you for everything you did for me. Like when you went looking for me and stayed with me at hospital, and thank you for always worrying about my feelings and wanting the best for me. I never showed it at the time, but I really do appreciate everything you did for me. All the care you showed me. I am so sorry for how I treated you and for how I took advantage of your caring nature and pushed you as far as I did. I was so toxic and abusive, and I wish I could change that. I wish I was never the reason you shed a tear, or made you fear an order was the only way to feel safe. That was not fair to you at, and I’m so sorry. I will never put another woman through that again.

I let myself get out of control and emotionally unstable, and let myself give up, and nothing I did was at all okay, but...living through it has made me learn so much about stopping myself ever being like that again, so it wasn’t for nothing in the endZ

In hindsight, I am so grateful for everything you did for me, you truly are one of the kindest caring people I’ve ever met, and I’m thankful to have met you.

Not that it matters now but, I really didn’t know you couldn’t block my email address. That’s my mistake.

—————

I’m really really hoping there has been enough time and space to make this okay. There’s honestly no pressure for you to reply, it’s all good, but I really hope you could find it to trust that there is nothing more coming, and not tell the police. I really don’t want to breach my probation, which this is, and I really want them to let me go to America this year. I fully intend to follow the dv rules from here on out, i just needed you to have the apology you deserve.

I hope you are at a happy place now too and can appreciate this apology, and hopefully smile at the fact. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

I wish you all the best, and if you tell Kurt about this, please also tell him I’m sorry for trying to punch him that time. From what I’ve been told he’s a really nice guy, and I really am glad you found someone that makes you happy. Also, I’m sorry you got hurt in the crossfire of that punch. I would never intentionally hit you, and even accidentally doing so makes me sick to the stomach with disgust. I regret that night so much. I wish you both nothing but good luck and happiness, honestly. I have nothing but support for you guys.

I’m going back to not thinking about you now, don’t worry about that. All I needed was make it right, and this was it. You don’t need to respond, that is not the point. I will not be following this up with anything else, you have my word. I haven’t in 12 months, I can do it again.

(I know I’ve said things like this before, but this time is different. I hope I conveyed this in exactly the right way to make sure my good intention isn’t misconstrued.)

Best of luck with everything in your future, Dana. I hope you find what you’re looking for, whatever that is. I hope you kill it at life.

Peacefully, with kind regards,

An older, wiser, not-so-crazy-anymore old-friend.

“Please, God, may she smile from this.” - wrth

————————————————————————

P.S

I make a lot of money now, I’m a business development manager for Telstra now, and I have that money I said I’d pay you back set aside waiting. If you ever need it, someone can tell me where to transfer it and it’s done.

I hope you saw Eden. It was awesome.

Don’t forget, new Buzzfeed Unsolved was released this weekend.

Katie let slip you spoke to her, also. I don’t care, but I don’t want the same thing to happen as what has with her. When she saw me she was so scared that I was going to hit someone or get angry, even saying “that’s not my boyfriend” out of nowhere. It absolutely broke my heart to see what I did to her. I don’t want you to be like that if you see me. Please just know; if you see me, I will run away,. I’m not going to go anywhere near you, and I’m certainly not gonna start a fight. I am not threat.

I do hope some day you might be able to unblock me, or catch up for smashed avo and coffee at wheelhouse, no talk about what happened. That would be nice. It would be nice to see how far you’ve come, how things are, whats been achieved. Hopefully when there’s been enough time, we can laugh about it all.

Sorry for writing so much. I have written this apology 100 different times in the last week, trying to keep it short with the perfect words as to stay out of legal trouble. You know how I try and over explain things...

I tried religion eventually, like you suggested. I even prayed a few times. It wasn’t for for me, but I hope he’s on my side tonight that this works out as I’ve explained above. Not with any problems.

Apologies to all those caught in my line of fire. I don’t hate any of you, and I don’t have any bad feelings about it, so don’t worry about me if you run into me, I’ll just blend into the background.

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andrewdburton · 7 years ago

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My life philosophy: 49 lessons from 49 years

Happy birthday to me! Today I turn 49. Here’s a photo from my third birthday. (I’m tucked just behind Mom, opening a present.)

To celebrate my 49th birthday, I want to share 49 nuggets of wisdom I’ve picked up during my time on this Earth. These are things I’ve found to be true for me — and, I believe, for most other people. (But, as always, remember that each of us is different. What works for me may not work for you.)

For obvious reasons, some of these notions overlap with the core tenets of the Get Rich Slowly philosophy. Plus, long-time readers will recognize this as an update to an article I’ve shared before on my birthday.

Some of the ideas that follow are original to me. Some aren’t. When I’ve borrowed something, I’ve done my best to cite my source. (And I’ve tried to cite the oldest source I can find. Lots of folks borrow ideas from each other. There’s nothing new under the sun and all that.)

Here are 49 principles I’ve found to be true during my 49 years on this planet:

Self-care comes first. If you’re not healthy, it’s tough to be happy. Before you can take care of your friends and your family, you need to take care of yourself. Eat well. Exercise. Nurture your mind, body, and spirit. Your body is a temple; treat it like one. If you don’t have your health, you’ve got nothing.

You get what you give. Your outer life is a reflection of your inner life. If you think the world is a shitty place, the world is going to be a shitty place. If you think people are out to get you, people will be out to get you. But if you believe people are basically good, you’ll find that this is true wherever you go.

Life is like a lottery. You receive tickets every time you try new things and meet new people. Most of these lottery tickets won’t have a pay-out, and that’s okay. But every now and then, you’ll hit the jackpot. The more you play — the more you say “yes” to new friends and new experiences — the more often you’ll win. You can’t win if you don’t play. That said, however…

Luck is no accident. What we think of as luck has almost nothing to do with randomness and almost everything to do with attitude. Lucky people watch for — and take advantage of — opportunities. They listen to their hunches. They know how to “fail forward”, making good out of bad. [Via the book Luck is No Accident.]

Don’t try to change others. “Attempts to change others are rarely successful, and even then are probably not completely satisfying,” Harry Browne wrote in How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World. “To accept others as they are doesn’t mean you have to give into them or put up with them. You are sovereign. You own your own world. You can choose…There are millions of people out there in the world; you have a lot more to choose from than just what you see in front of you now.”

Don’t allow others to try to change you. Again from How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World: “You are free to live your life as you want…The demands and wishes of others don’t control your life. You do. You make the decisions…There are thousands of people who wouldn’t demand that you bend yourself out of shape to please them. There are people who will want you to be yourself, people who see things as you do, people who want the same things you want. Why should you have to waste your life in a futile effort to please those with whom you aren’t compatible?”

Be impeccable with your word. Be honest — with yourself and others. If you promise to do something, do it. When somebody asks you a question, tell the truth. Practice what you preach. Avoid gossip. [This is directly from Don Miguel’s The Four Agreements.]

Don’t take things personally. When people criticize you and your actions, it’s not about you — it’s about them. They can’t know what it’s like to be you and live your life. When you take things personally, you’re allowing others to control your life and your happiness. Heed the Arab proverb: “The dogs bark but the caravan moves on.” [Also one of The Four Agreements.]

Don’t make assumptions. The flip side of not taking things personally is to not assume you know what’s going on in other people’s heads. Don’t assume you know the motivations for their actions. Just as their reality doesn’t reflect your reality, your life is not theirs. Give people the benefit of the doubt. [Another of The Four Agreements.]

True story: Before Kim and I moved last summer, the dog park near our home had a homeless problem. (And still does.) We early-morning walkers did our best to clean up camps when they were vacated, but it was a never-ending task. Once, I joined a new woman for a stroll down the trail. “Look at that couple,” she said, pointing to a man and a woman who were dragging a tarp down the hillside. “They just woke up and are packing up their camp.” I tried to tell her that no, they were regular dog-walkers who were pitching in to clean things up. She didn’t believe me. “I’m going to report them,” she said. Classic example of a faulty assumption.

Always do your best. Your best varies from moment to moment. Some days in the gym, for instance, I’m able to lift heavier weights than on other days. Some days I can run faster than usual; some days, I’m slower. That’s okay. What matters most is that I give my best effort every time. No matter what you do, do it as well as you can. This is one of the keys to success and happiness. [This is the last of The Four Agreements.]

Effort matters more than skill or talent. “Effort counts twice,” argues Angela Duckworth in Grit: The Power of Passon and Perseverance. Skill, she says, is talent multiplied by effort. The more you do what you’re good at, the better you get. But achievement is the product of skill multiplied by effort. Effort counts twice. (This may be why psychologists say it’s better to praise your child’s efforts instead of her results. Praise her for spending time on her homework, not because she got an A.)

Embrace the imperfections. If you do what is right, and you do your best, then there’s no reason to feel bad about the outcome. Nobody’s perfect. Don’t beat yourself up if you make mistakes. And don’t sweat it if other people get upset with you too. If you’re doing the best you can, that’s good enough.

The perfect is the enemy of the good. Too many people never get started because they don’t know that the “best” first step is. You don’t know the best guitar, so you never learn to play. You don’t know which Spanish book is best, so you never learn to speak. You don’t know how to bench press, so you never go to the gym. Don’t worry about getting things exactly right — just choose a good option and do something to get started.

There’s no single “right” way to achieve success. Each of us is different. We have different goals, personalities, and experiences. We each need to find the tools and techniques that are effective for our own situations. There’s no one right way to eat, love, pray, or pay off debt. Don’t believe anyone who tells you there is. Experiment until you find methods that are effective for you. (Note, however, that there are wrong ways to do these things — steer clear of obvious bad choices.)

Be present in the moment. Accept life for what it is, without labels or judgment. Yield to events; don’t block them. Go with the flow. Nothing exists outside the present moment: Don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future. Improve the quality of the here and now. When you do something, do that thing. When you’re with somebody, be with them. Don’t multitask. Put away the smartphone or the computer or the book. Be all there. [This is an ancient concept made popular by The Power of Now.]

Spirituality is personal. The desire for one person (or group) to impose her (or their) beliefs on others is the source of much of this world’s strife. Believe what you want, and let others do the same. “There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.” — the Dalai Lama

Be skeptical — but keep an open mind. Don’t believe everything you hear — from others and from your own internal self-talk. Practice healthy skepticism. But keep an open mind. Don’t automatically assume that everything is fake or false. Do your best to analyze the things you see and hear to determine whether they actually make sense.

Don’t yuck someone else’s yum. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean it’s bad. Pursue your passions, and let others pursue theirs. If you don’t like something, fine. Don’t make a big deal about it.

You can’t prevent every possible thing from going wrong. Don’t even try. Instead, learn to deal effectively with minor problems. You’ll build self-confidence, which will lead to an increased willingness to take calculated risks. (Similarly, you can’t make everyone like you. It’s foolish to try.)

Be flexible. Goals are good, but single-minded devotion to a goal can often blind a person to other opportunities. And it’s a mistake to cling to one path out of sense of obligation. If you enter law school and discover you hate it, then quit. Don’t endure years of misery because you feel like it’s expected of you. That’s dumb. You have more options than you think, but you may need to slow down and open your eyes in order to see them.

Be encouraging. Support the creative, positive actions of others. There are a lot of people out there who want to tell others what’s wrong with their actions, why the things they want to do can’t be done. They’re quick to criticize small mistakes instead of praising the greater effort. Don’t be this way. Do what you can — in ways both big and small — to help others achieve their goals. [Taken from Action Girl’s Guide to Living.]

You are the author of your own life. Everyone has a story they want to tell you about yourself. Society tries to push a “standard narrative” on us about how life should go. Ignore these stories. If you don’t like the story you’re living, it’s up to you to change the plot. You didn’t write the beginning of your story, but you have the power to choose the ending. Choose and adventure you love instead of one that makes you unhappy.

You don’t need permission. When we’re young, we wait for our parents and teachers to say it’s okay to do the things we want to do. As an adult, you don’t need permission from anybody else. Do you want to quit your job and travel the world? Do it. Do you want to learn how to ride a motorcycle? Do it. Don’t wait for somebody else to give you the go-ahead. You are the only one who needs to give yourself permission to do these things.

Don’t let fear guide your decision-making process. My girlfriend Kim told me this on one of our first dates, and it echoes something my accountant once told me. He says that too many people make money moves based solely on the tax repercussions. “That’s dumb,” he told me. “You should do what you want because you want to, not because of the tax hit.” This applies in all aspects of life. Make decisions based on what you want to do. Move toward something, not away from something.

Action cures fear. Thought creates fear; action cures it. What we’re actually afraid of is the unknown. We like certainty, and choosing to do something with an uncertain outcome makes us nervous. Taking the first step can be scary, but each additional step becomes easier and easier. When you act, you remove the mystery. Action creates confidence. It creates motivation. (Most people think motivation comes before action. They’re wrong. Action leads to motivation.) [This is an old idea but this phrasing is from The Magic of Thinking Big.]

Action is character. If you never did anything, you wouldn’t be anybody. Superman is a superhero because he does heroic things, not because he talks about doing them. And a writer is a writer because she writes, not because she talks about writing. What we say doesn’t matter; it’s what we do that counts. We are what we repeatedly do. [From F. Scott Fitzgerald’s notes on The Last Tycoon.]

You’re more likely to regret the things you don’t do than the things you do. That’s not to say you should be an asshole, or that you won’t regret making big mistakes. But generally speaking, you’re more likely to be sorry that you didn’t introduce yourself to the barista at the coffeehouse, didn’t go bungee-jumping with your friends, didn’t stay in touch with your friends. [This is the central idea in The Top Five Regrets of the Dying.]

Give without the expectation of return. Help other people — even if it costs a bit of money or time. Don’t always expect a financial payoff. Don’t get offended if your effort isn’t acknowledged or appreciated. Help because it’s the right thing to do, not because you want to be noticed.

When good things happen to people you know, help them celebrate. Their success does not diminish you. Be happy when your friends and family achieve something cool. If a co-worker gets a raise, be supportive and not jealous. Approach life as if it were a win-win game. Because it is.

Happy people almost never criticize, says Steven Pressfield in The War of Art. “If they speak at all,” he writes, “it’s to offer encouragement.” This is true in my experience, as well. Being sarcastic and cutting doesn’t mean that you’re smarter than the people around you. Most of the time, it simply means you’re an asshole. And that leads me to the next lesson…

Staying in a relationship out of a sense of obligation or pity is not a good reason. Sometimes you really do have to walk away — from a friendship, from a family member, even from a romantic partner. Yours isn’t the only story in this world; sometimes it’s better to be somebody else’s villain than to make yourself miserable.

You have the freedom to choose how you respond to any event. In the classic Man’s Search for Meaning, Victor Fankl writes, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” He based this philosophy on his personal experience in a Nazi concentration camp. When that jerk cuts you off on the freeway, you get to choose if you’ll get angry or give him the benefit of the doubt. When you get stuck behind the old lady in line at the grocery store, it’s up to you how to respond. When those stupid kids next door vandalize your lawn, you get to choose how you feel about it.

You’ll be happier if you focus on efforts and attention only on the things you can control. Each of us has a large number of things about which we’re concerned: our health, our family, our friends, our jobs; world affairs, the plight of the poor, the threat of terrorism, the current political climate. Within that Circle of Concern, there’s a smaller subset of things over which we have actual, direct control: how much we exercise, what time we go to bed, whether we leave for work on time; what we eat, where we live, with whom we socialize. You’ll be happier and more productive if you dedicate yourself to your Circle of Control and ignore your Circle of Concern. [This notion is part of Julian Rotter’s social-learning theory of personality, but was popularized by Stephen Covey in The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.]

You can have anything you want — but you can’t have everything you want. Everything is a trade-off. You have limited resources. When you choose to spend — time, money, brainwidth — on one thing, you’re also choosing not to spend on others. Do your best to spend only on the things that matter most to you. Don’t really give a rat’s ass about Big Bang Theory? Then why are you watching it? Spend your time and energy on something you do care about.

Make room for the big rocks first. It’s easy to let your time and energy be sucked up by trivial errands and tasks. You find you no longer have space for the things you thought were most important. Don’t do that. Always carve out time and attention for those people and activities you value most. If the house doesn’t get clean because you were hanging out with a friend, so what? If you didn’t mow the lawn because you went to the gym instead, that’s a good thing. Tackle the important, then the trivial.

If you want to avoid feeling overwhelmed, create margin in your life. Simplicity brings peace. Many people have tried to beat this into my head over the years, but it wasn’t until I read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up that I really understood. Every item you own, every meeting you schedule, every email you receive — every obligation in your life carries both psychic and physical weight. Traveling in an RV for fifteen months, I learned to love owning very little. It was freeing! And it was freeing too to not be a slave to a schedule. As much as you can, build margin into your life so that you can feel peaceful and free.

Be your own advocate. Don’t be afraid to ask what you want and what you need — especially if it’s help. Too often, we struggle in silence when we could make our lives better simply by asking a question or two. Better to look ignorant for a moment than to remain ignorant for a lifetime. Don’t wait for others to solve your problems. Be proactive. Find answers. Take action. Learn to help yourself.

It’s always best to be proactive. In life, there are often default options. If you don’t consciously and deliberately choose something different, you get the default. When this happens, your life shapes you instead of you shaping your life. Most people go through their entire lives in default mode. They accept what life hands them without question. They’re reactive. Choose to be proactive instead. If you don’t set your own goals, somebody else will set them for you.

Quality tools can make life better. For years, I equated low cost with smart spending. Now I know that’s not always the case. Now, I’m willing to spend to buy high-quality things when I know I’ll use them all the time. I have high-quality boots, for instance, and an expensive computer. I’m okay with that. I walk everywhere I go, so the boots are worth it. And my computer is my livelihood. The expense is worth it because it makes working a joy. For items used daily, buy the best. If you don’t use it often, of if it’s not important to you, buy the cheapest possible.

The meaning of life is the meaning you decide to give it. Some people are searchers. They wander through life looking for answers…but rarely find them. Others accept without question what an outside authority tells them is true. I believe that the meaning of life comes from within, from the things that you lean to prioritize and value. Nobody is going to tell you what life should mean to you; you have to decide that for yourself.

You are the boss of you. Your circumstances might not be your fault, but they’re your responsibility. Don’t blame anyone or anything else for your situation, and don’t expect somebody else to rescue you. If you don’t like where you are, resolve to do what it takes to make a change.

Don’t compare yourself to others. I preach this often at Money Boss. Comparing yourself to others is counter-productive. Generally one of two things happens: You either feel shitty because you’re not as good as the other person, or you feel superior because they’re not as good as you. In reality, nobody is better than anybody else. We’re just different. If you want to compare yourself, compare Present You to Past You — and do what you can to make Future You a better version of why you are today.

You can’t get rid of a bad habit; you can only change it. “You can never truly extinguish bad habits,” writes Charles Duhigg in The Power of Habit. “Rather, to change a habit, you must keep the old cue, and deliver the old reward, but insert a new routine.” He calls this the Golden Rule of Habit Change. To change your habit loop, you have to do something different when the habit is triggered. Let me give you an example: I used to be a stress-eater. I’d eat junk food — and lots of it — any time I had a deadline or a conflict with a friend. The act of eating soothed my mind. The stress was the cue (the trigger), and the rush was the reward. No surprise, this habit made me fat. I’ve managed to (mostly) change the habit loop by walking instead of eating. Now if I get stressed, I go for a walk. I get a similar rush for a reward, but my actions are healthier.

Positive reinforcement is powerful. When Tahlequah performs a desired behavior — sitting, coming when called, being nice to the cats — we reward her. She learns to connect the treat with the actions we wants, and becomes more likely to offer them…even when we don’t reward her. What’s true for dogs is true for people too. Does nagging your spouse actually work? Probably not. (In fact, it probably has the opposite effect you intend!) But if you reward the behavior your want, you’ll eventually see it offered without prompting. The same thing is true with children, co-workers, family members, and so on. [This is a fundamental principle of psychology. An excellent source for more info is Don’t Shoot the Dog.]

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Create your own certainty. Don’t allow yourself to be dependent on the choices and actions of others. I call this “Michelle’s Law” after my friend who taught it to me. But I have another friend — Jenn — who talks about “ensuring success”. When she’s working on something important, whether it’s a relationship or a vacation, she always follows up to make sure that what she expects to happen will happen. This philosophy is akin to the idea that you should trust, but verify.

Choose happiness. Do work and play that brings fulfillment. Spend time with people who build you up, not those who bring you (and others) down. Strip from your life the things that take time, money, and energy, but which do not bring you joy. Focus on the essentials.

It’s never too late to be great. It takes time to achieve anything worthwhile. But just because you haven’t started yet — or haven’t reached the level your aiming for — doesn’t mean you can’t or won’t make it happen. Don’t be daunted by audacious goals. Are you fifty and want to run a marathon? Start training. Are you sixty and only now thinking of retirement? That’s okay. Better late than never. Are you seventy and want to write a novel? Do it. History is filled with examples of folks who achieve great things later in life. [This argument is made persuasively by Tom Butler-Bowdon in his book, Never Too Late to Be Great.]

Be yourself. This is the most important thing I’ve learned during my 49 years of life. For too long, I tried to please others. I tried to be and do the things I thought they wanted me to be and do. As a result, I was unhappy. And most of the time, my actions didn’t have the results I thought they would. They didn’t make others like me any better. Instead of trying to please others, now I’m just me. I’m honest about who I am and what I want. Maybe some of my old friends don’t like who I’ve become. That’s okay. I’ve made plenty of people who do like who I am.

“Everybody is talented, original and has something important to say.” — Barbara Ueland, If You Want to Write.

This isn’t a comprehensive list of my beliefs, but it’s a fair survey of my life philosophy. It’s very different from my philosophy when I was 39 or 29. And I’m sure that my philosophy at 59 will have changed in ways that I cannot foresee.

Also note that although I really do believe these things to be true, I also struggle with them. I’m human, just like you. I don’t always live up to my ideal self.

How many of these ideas do you agree with? Which do you disagree with? More to the point: What are the core ideas that make up your personal philosophy?

The post My life philosophy: 49 lessons from 49 years appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

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My life philosophy: 49 lessons from 49 years

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My life philosophy: 49 lessons from 49 years

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Happy birthday to me! Today I turn 49. Here’s a photo from my third birthday. (I’m tucked just behind Mom, opening a present.)

Here are 49 principles I’ve found to be true during my 49 years on this planet:

“Everybody is talented, original and has something important to say.” — Barbara Ueland, If You Want to Write.

Also note that although I really do believe these things to be true, I also struggle with them. I’m human, just like you. I don’t always live up to my ideal self.

How many of these ideas do you agree with? Which do you disagree with? More to the point: What are the core ideas that make up your personal philosophy?

The post My life philosophy: 49 lessons from 49 years appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

#Wealth

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