#one day it will collapse and become a black hole and then nothing will be able to escape my love :)

[tacticalfemwile]

You ever have so much love and affection to give but nowhere for it to go so you just have to act like your entire chest isn’t about to collapse in on itself

[miley1442111]

Heyyyy are you still requests?? If yes..................

Last night i relived a painful memory when a loved person told me to shut up in front of our friend group and it was so humiliating and overwhelming, i went dead silent for the rest of the month but still played cool with everyone and everyone knew i was destroyed, wasnt leaving home that much yet and the person who told me to shut up was going trough some shit (ON THAT DAY) and actually never apologized...

SO SORRY FOR THE VENT BUT IT WAS NECESSARY FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR.

What if the reader is the one being told to shut up by none other than RAFE CAMERON who is a very close friend and he told the reader to shut up out loud in the middle of a party in front of your friend group (Kelce and Topper) and the reader also play it cool but it collapse at themself like a dying star and all their light is sucked by the black hole it became. But unlike real life, Rafe doesnt need people telling him he fucked up and he felt terrible and a few weeks later he sees reader on a party, unusually quiet, being dragged by their friends around trying to cheer reader up and the reader still trying to play it cool but the damage was showing and maybe Rafe take the chance to approach you but he doesnt know what to say or what to do so he acts like nothing happened?? IM SORRY THIS IS SO CONFUNSING I JUST WOKE UP AND I HAD TO WRITE THAT BEFORE THE MEMORY FADED. Sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable, just ignore it if you didn like ittt!! I love your writting btw i'll never forget that one ask i did and you answered about Rafe choosing between reader and a lover!!!!

and ask 2:

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talking too much- r.cameron

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a/n: HELLO to the both of you! thank you two so much for requesting, and very sorry that this happened to you :( I'd let you talk my ear off about anything any time :) (ps, great song choice)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the requests

warnings: reader kind of loses her spark, rafe is a confused and stressed asshole, reader becomes very insecure, feelings of not being good enough, rafe gets very stressed at the end (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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It was finally nearing the end of June and you were planning your 4th of July party with your friends. Topper, Kelce, Rafe, you, Sarah, and a few of your other friends sat around the table, thinking up ideas for what parties to drop into, and what you were going to wear, etc. You were excited, that was no crime. You’d always been the most excitable in the group, it was just part of your bubbly personality, there was no issue with it. No one had ever been more than a little irritated with it before, no big deal. You’d just apologise and remember to tone it down for those people, but your closest friends weren’t those people. Your closest friends liked your personality, your closest friends liked you. It didn’t matter how loud you were. 

“And then I guess we’ll-”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe cursed.

The room went silent. You stood still, frozen as people’s eyes turned to you. Sarah offered a look of sympathy, she knew how much you valued Rafe’s opinion, especially since you had a slight crush on him. You felt yourself recoil. How could he be so rude? All you were doing was giving ideas to the group, it’s not like anyone else was trying to speak much, and Rafe definitely wasn’t adding to the conversation. At least, he hadn’t been for the past hour, just sitting in the corner with his leg bouncing and that stupid vein protruding from his stupid neck. You slumped back in your chair, embarrassment filling your mind as you thought over every other interaction with him and the group. Were you annoying? Did they all actually hate you? 

“I don’t hear you talking much Rafe,” Sarah shot back. “Something to say?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Fuck off Sarah,” he scoffed and waited for you to bounce back and start speaking again. You didn’t. He looked up as the group started speaking again, going off of all the plans you’d started. You were just sitting there, on your phone. 

You just waited until someone actually asked you a question to give your input, and even then all you said was; “Sounds good.”

He’d fucked up. Big time. 

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It had been a week since ‘the incident’, and Rafe hadn’t seen you. He felt awful, absolutely disgraced after what he’d said. He was stressed, it was a bad moment, and he took it out on you. He was sorry. But how was he supposed to tell you that? How was he supposed to explain how sorry he was, explain that he was just stressed? How would you believe him? You two had never been the closest in the friend group, not to say you two didn’t speak, but you two weren’t exactly attached at the hip like you were with Sarah, or Kelce. All you’d ever been to him was nice, not something he was sure he deserved, but he appreciated it all the same. 

How could he get back to that?

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“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Sarah begged over the phone. 

“I’m tired, I was working all day-”

“Come on, you’ve been dodging all week! 4th of July is coming up, I don’t want to hang out with Kelce and Top without you,” she whined, 

“I’ll be there for the 4th, I’m just busy right now,” you sighed. “I promise I’m ok,” you lied. 

“If you’re staying home because of what Rafe said, I’ll kill him,” she swore. 

“I don’t give a shit about what Rafe said,” lie. “I’m just busy, promise.”

Sarah sighed. “Alright, see you on the 4th!”

And with that, you hung up. The last week had been one long pity-party that made you feel even worse about yourself, deciding that your friends were better off without you, especially when you can’t even bounce back from one tiny insignificant comment from one random guy. That’s what you thought anyway. But now, you had 3 days before the 4th, and you weren’t sure how you were going to get the courage to face any of them. 

Not that they hadn’t reached out. Everyone who was there (aside from Rafe) had called or texted to ask if you were ok, and apologised for not saying anything. Kelce had felt the worst, since he was supposed to be your best friend, and he hadn’t said anything. You brushed them off, promising them it was fine, promising them you were fine. They barely believed you, but you somehow convinced them that you were busy. You told half of them that you were packing for your move, and the other half that you had gotten a job at your mom’s company. I mean, technically you were a few weeks out from moving away and you should be packing, and technically you did just get a job at your moms’ company (managing the online presence and doing admin work), but really both those jobs were easy. You could’ve done them for a few hours, then seen your friends. But you didn't want to. You didn’t want to feel like a burden. 

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The day of the 4th rolled around and Sarah picked you up with all the girls in the group in her car. You looked gorgeous in your short red dress, at least that’s what Sarah told you. You kept your mouth shut as the girls gossiped and sang along to songs, only interjecting when truly necessary. When you got to the beach, you managed to break away from the girls and get a drink, standing alone as you watched the night go by. You liked people watching, you found it interesting to see the small micro-expressions on peoples faces, the snippets of their conversations, and everything in between. 

“Hi,” Rafe smiled softly. He was in front of you, blocking your view of the people you were looking at. 

“Hi,” you answered meekly. 

He stood there for a moment as you tried to look over his shoulder, but the group were gone. You sighed in defeat and turned around to pour yourself another drink. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

“Fine thanks,” you answered. “You?”

“Good, fine… yeah,” the awkwardness in his voice almost made you physically cringe. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It’s been like a week?” you questioned. In the past week, Rafe had realised how much he missed you, and how much you added to the group. He missed how you brightened up everyone, how you kept the peace by being close with almost everyone, how you made him laugh. 

“What have you been up to?” He scratched the back of his neck, his nerves almost getting the better of him, almost making him turn around and not do this. Almost.

“Not much. Working, packing, usual stuff,” you shrugged. 

Rafe’s expression faltered. “Packing?”

“I’m moving in a few weeks,” you explained. “So you won't see me for a while.”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. 

Absolutely not. 

Rafe felt his stomach sink. “Why?”

“‘Why’ what Rafe?” you asked, genuinely confused. Why, out of all people, would he care?

“Where?”

“Just main-land, but a bit further into the city so I’m moving schools,” you shrugged.

“But it’s our senior year?”

“Yeah? And?”

“We all said we’d do it together, remember?”

“It wasn’t my choice to move,” you scoffed. “And also, why are you acting like this is new information? Tonight is my ‘last hurrah’ get-together. We’re doing the stupid sleepover.”

“W-what?”

“We didn’t invite you,” Sarah butted in. “You were a dick, now you reap the consequences.”

You rolled your eyes at the shocked look on Rafe’s face. “Night Rafe, see you around.”

Rafe stood frozen as you walked away, shocked. Had he really not been listening for so long? Had he really missed that? You were moving, you were gone. And there was nothing he could do about it. 

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[dragon-kazansky]

Veil of the dreamless

Morpheus x Reader

A cursed Morpheus holds your father prisoner when he enters The Dreaming without permission. You, also able to enter the realm, take his place. Now a prionser to the Dream Lord, you do all you can to learn about the curse and hopefully break it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Four - A little tour

☆☆☆

The next morning, you leave your room and arrive in the dining room for breakfast. Matthew had come to fetch you. You were getting used to the talking raven flying around now.

Things here were becoming your new normal, even after a day.

As you enter the dining room, you pause when you realise you will not be earing alone. There, sitting on the other side of the table is Dream. You follow Matthew over to your chair and sit down, though you feel a little awkward now.

Morpheus doesn't say anything. He avoids your eyes.

Lucienne brings out 2 plates and sets one down in front of each of you. She then stands off to the side and lets you both eat. Matthew flies off to settle on the chandelier hanging over the table.

You both eat in awkward silence to begin with. You want to break the ice somehow, but you're not sure where to begin with him. Morpheus' aura is cold and unwelcoming.

You catch Lucienne looking at you. When she realises you're looking, she simply nods her head at you. It's the go-ahead to talk to him. You sigh softly to yourself and gather the courage to say something.

"Woukd you... That is to say, if you wouldn't mind, perhaps give me a tour of the palace?" You wish a hole would open up and swallow you. That sounded so awful in your head.

Morpheus, however, had stopped picking at his food. He raised his head to look at you. In the light, you could take in his cursed state more clearly. He was covered from head to toe in feathers. He wore black clothes, a shirt with a long coat over the top. His wings were current draped over each side of the chair. They looked heavy.

"A tour?" His voice was deep and smooth. He no longer sounded agitated. Curious, if anything.

"Yes... if... if that's alright with you? Even if it's just the garden or the bridge..."

Morpheus was no longer interested in his breakfast. He was solely focused on you. He fell silent for several seconds, looking at you. You began to shift in your chair when he finally spoke. "Very well."

You felt yourself relax, letting out a sigh of relief quietly. Lucienne smiled proudly from where she stood. However, Morpheus saw her, and she stopped.

He turns back to you and finds himself relaxing, too. There's something about the way you asked him to do this that made him wonder what kind of person you were.

"Shall we?" He rises from the table. You watch the way his wings stretch out and then fold behind him. Slowly, you also rise from the table. You follow after him.

Matthew flies down and lands on the table. Lucienne comes to stand beside him.

"They might be the one," he caws.

Lucienne smiles.

Meanwhile, outside, Morpheus is leading you through the gardens. He hasn't said much since you left the palace, but you haven't said much to him either. He walks slowly. You take this tike to really look at him. Long legs, straight posture, yet you can't help thinking the wings were inconvenient for him.

He comes to a stop near a fountain. You stop a couple of paces behind him. The fountain had collapsed in on itself. Rubble lay at the bottom of it. The area still looked pretty though. Just aged.

"I can't imagine how beautiful everything was."

Morpheus turns his head to look at you with his blue eyes. "It was quite a sight."

You sit on the edge of the fountain and look around. "I wonder what kind of dreams I would have had if things hadn't become this."

Morpheus watches you. "Wonderful ones, I am sure."

"How do you know?"

"I am the Dream Lord. This realm is a part of me as much as I am a part of it. I know that you would have magnificent dreams."

You smile. "If only I could."

He says nothing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down. Your realm is beautiful. I'm curious... how did father get here?"

"It shouldn't have happened. No one has come to the Dreaming since the curse."

"Mother told me she and father were both able to. Her parents had been able to also."

"Really?" He asks, curious. "I don't recall."

"Maybe they didn't come to the palace when they came here," you suggested.

"I should have sensed dreamers."

"Maybe the curse has hindered your abilities somewhat."

"Maybe..." He says quietly.

"No matter. I'm here, and that's just how it is." You sigh.

"Doesn't that bother you?" He asks.

"At first, it did. Now, I have accepted my fate. Unless you let me go..."

"No." He states clearly.

"Thought that would be too easy," you chuckle.

"You are my prisoner, so here you will stay."

"Still calling me a prisoner? Guest, at least."

You swear he almost cracks a smile, but it's gone as quick as it was there. He looks at you with his piercing eyes. "Anything else you wish to see?"

He takes you around the gardens and across the bridge. He stops you when you reach the other side and faces the dark clouds that surround the palace.

"Do not go through there," he warns.

"Why? What is it?"

"Rogue nightmares. At my current capacity, I am not strong enough to control like I once could. They now have free roam and take up most of the shadows. It is dangerous to wander into the dark."

"Rogue nightmares?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, there is not much I can do. I'm not as strong as I once was. Do not wander into the darkness."

He turns and begins to cross the bridge back to the palace again. You take one last look at the dark clouds and step backwards, turning to follow Morpheus. It was unsettling to think there were dangerous creatures roaming about so close.

You both return inside the palace, and Morpheus leads you to a room you hadn't seen before. His throne room. The hall is vast and bathed in low light. Three tall stained glass windows highlight the room. A small staircase leads to a single throne.

"Wow..."

Morpheus stands by and watches you look up at the throne and the windows.

"You really are a king."

"Was."

You turn and look at him. "You still are. Just... without a kingdom..."

"What kind of king doesn't have a kingdom?"

"You."

He sighs and joins you at your side. "I don't come in here much these days. Lucienne has kept it in good condition though."

"Yes. She's very talented."

"You are welcome to come in here if you wish. I have no use for this room any more..."

You pick up on the sadness in his voice. You wonder what the Dreaming was like when it was thriving before the curse. It must have been wonderful.

Morpheus takes you up the stairs where the staircase splits, east and west. He faces you, his feather ruffling slightly. "That was... nice."

You smile. "Yes. It was." You peer over his shoulder to the western hall. He sees you and stands in the way of your view.

"Get some rest. We were out for a while."

You nod and turn to head to your room. You glance behind you to find Morpheus looking at you. You turn back around and walk away.

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

☆☆☆

@littleblackcatinwonderland - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @missdreamofendless - @intothesoul -

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The Girl in the Ditch

Somewhat different from my usual stuff but I'm so excited about it! Please lmk what you think. TW: death, violence

****************

Most stories start at the beginning, but at the beginning of this story is an unwanted girl with an unhappy life and not much else. Instead, this story starts at the beginning of its end, with a girl in a ditch.

She lies spread out, in a dewy stretch of grass on a mostly forgotten back road, half hidden in the tree line. The picture would be almost peaceful if it weren’t for the blood matted in the girl’s raven black hair and the ring of bruises stained around her neck like some sort of gristly necklace. 

She’s found in the early hours of the morning when the sun has only just finished rising. A trucker on his route sees first her shoe and then the rest of her, dark skin and old clothes and blue eyes forever frozen in wide eyed terror. 

She was a fighter, the cops say, when they show up and take her away. There is blood under her fingernails and a chunk of hair that doesn’t belong to her stuck to her shirt, but it wasn’t enough to save her- not this time. Soon enough, the murmurs turn dark. She isn’t the first girl this has happened to and she won't be the last, poor girls with poor lives and bitter ends. It’s little wonder really, a girl like that, from the wrong side of town, in the bars at sixteen, mixed up with bruisers and gangs and drugs. She didn’t know what she was getting into. No wonder it ended this way.

When they go tell her family there is no father to be found and a mother high enough she doesn’t understand a word they say. There is a hard faced boy in the doorway who refuses to believe it, and another who truly can’t, a younger boy almost as small in the living room as the girl looked in the ditch.

Both boys demand to see her, and recoil at the sight. The older one punches a hole in the wall of the morgue and the young one screams, begs the corpse to wake up, calls to her in a language unknown to the cops and maybe the universe, his face- one made for mischief- twisted in a feral sort of horror and grief. He collapses, and the older one grips his shoulder tightly as he faces the cops who brought them there and demands to know what happened, who did this, what they know. 

Upon hearing they know nothing the boys leave, the older one cursing and half carrying the younger one, who’s shouting has given way to an endless blankness.

There is a short lived investigation, with no leads and no suspects. It’s closed before the girl in the ditch is even buried, a case gone cold before she ever died. It’s hard to catch a murderer no one knows anything about. 

The town seemed to think the girl in the ditch wouldn’t have a funeral. They couldn’t be more wrong. It’s a small room at a cheap funeral home, decked out in flowers plucked from the side of the road. It’s attended by a mother drunk out of her mind, and half the petty criminals in Tulsa Oklahoma, and is perhaps the most beautiful service any of them have ever seen. Only one person speaks, the girl’s eldest brother, who’d punched a wall upon first seeing her corpse and who’s gruff voice goes so soft when he gives the eulogy it would be a wonder anyone could hear it, if the room hadn’t been quiet enough you could hear a pin drop. The girl in the ditch lies silent, battered and beautiful on the dais, the sorrow of the mourners a final blanket. 

The youngest brother doesn’t attend, cannot be found no matter who or how hard anyone looks. By noon, most folks have given up searching. There’s only one person who might have known where he was, and she’s currently in a coffin, being lowered into the ground. An auburn haired teenager stays behind once everyone else has left, smokes a cigarette and leaves the rest of the box of Marlboros on the headstone in place of the brother who couldn’t.

The girl in the ditch has been in the ground for two days when the east side becomes a warzone. 

It starts with the Shepard gang- a tough group of career criminals- and a new string of jumpings and stabbings. They’re searching for something- or someone- and they will stop at nothing to find whatever it is they are looking for. A gang known for petty dealing and east side squabbles is suddenly starting fires, kidnapping, extorting people, hunting them down. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it all ties back to the girl in the ditch and the brothers who broke when they saw her. 

After two months of searching, fighting, and bloodshed, the gang’s leader gets caught, standing over the body of the cousin of a guy who knows a guy who thought maybe he’d known someone once whose money came from taking little black girls where they’d never again be found. The tigerlike man they take to the holding cell is at once and not at not at all the boy from two months ago who’d been told his sister was dead. There’s a darkness in his eyes now instead of just hardness, a spark creeping rapidly towards a glint some would call madness. Few things can drive a man crazy like the horrors of the unknown.

He pleads innocent but he looks guilty, with his sloppy clothes and dark skin, and in the end it wouldn’t have mattered if he was innocent, he’s a black kid up for murder in the deep south. The jury sentences him to a life behind bars, and when the prison gate clanks shut behind him it does so with grim finality. There will be no appeals for him, no reduced sentence. The man in the cell stops holding on to the shred of his reality, and spends the rest of his life trying to solve a murder that will never be solved. 

The Shepard gang’s crusade does not stop with the loss of their leader. If anything their methods get worse, their shakedowns more violent, their desperation more palpable. People speak of them with terror or with awe, whispers swirling about the girl in the ditch the boy behind bars and the brother who has promised vengeance for them both, a boy who wears the face of his sister and the sneer of his brother, who has lost everything and so has nothing left to lose.

There is one person left who can reason with the shadow of the mischievous boy he once was, and it’s an auburn haired teen who left cigarettes instead of flowers on a grave. With him, the newly minted gang leader returns to something resembling human, but as more time passes he grows colder and colder, and listens to his redheaded friend less and less. Their friendship ends in a blowout fight that leaves one boy reckless and wild, and the other withdrawn and sullen. It’s the recklessness and violence he has used to fill a piece of his heart where his family once lived that brings the boy to an untimely end.

The story ends, same as it began, with a body in a ditch. This time it’s a boy, and his killers are easy to find. It doesn’t change the fact he’s found stabbed and discarded like some sort of trash, or that he was sixteen when he died, just like his sister. It doesn’t change the fact that there is no one left to mourn him but an older brother who’s gone mad and a best friend who’s last vestiges of goodness died with his gang leader buddy. 

The story starts with a girl in a ditch and ends with a boy in another. It’s a story that has happened before. It will happen again. 

Tale as old as time, right?

[winterfireblond]

⁴WHAT IF??

You're one of the newest addition to the teaching staff of Nevermore just turning a year in service, but you're too familiar with the academy since it's your alma mater living after graduation to pursue college then return to teach. Since then you already got your eyes set to your former principal, now boss/colleague; Larissa Weems.

You have to bite back a moan everytime you got a whiff of her perfume when she walks near your vicinity, or have to cover partially your face to hide your blushing face and all-teeth showing smile when you see her around. The urge to stop anyone from talking to her especially in staff meeting (the adult ones only), you got nothing against them or the students particular, it's just you only want her attention to you. You love teaching and so the students but you are making sure that they'll never have to go to the principal directly unless you can intervene so less interaction for them. Well, you got somehow an idea when you fell for the woman yourself the same age as most of the students.

One time when she went to the Weathervane for some short time break from work and to indulge herself a little with a fresh chocolate drink, her favorite. You followed her secretly, despite your busy schedule for the day teaching your classes and taking up another task when no other teaching staff is available. But you got it handled, given that you can duplicate yourself. It's taking a lot with your body not to collapse from the effort but you will not miss an opportunity to be with your sunshine even from afar. You and your duplicate self wear the same outfit, a hoody and a black pants your usual outfit everyday. You watch her got out of the establishment walking to where she parked her car a little secluded from the usual since the ones near the cafe is fully occupied. You waited a few moments before following her making sure that no one suspects you of what you are doing. When you spot her, a man is behind her spitting insults towards the students and the school, but the one's that really triggered it all when the man insulted Larissa, you saw her stop just outside her car take a deep breath and turn towards the man with a small smile and excused herself then get inside the car, starting the engine then drive back to the school.

You will not let this slide, not when you saw the hurt in her eyes, how tense she become when she's supposed to have a little break from stress. And so you plan something to somewhat avenge her from the man. No one gets so mean to your love and gets away with it, not if you can handle it with your own hands.

Your real body is with your students, now you're getting a little distracted with fatigue and the emotions you're sharing with your other self. But thankfully the ring of the bell indicating the end of classes is heard then the happy noises of the students one by one living the classroom. You are left alone, you sat back down to calm yourself and collect your things opting to end the day early and retire to your room. You stand up to head out now but the sudden movement caused you to loss balance and take your things with you when you fall down the floor, vision turning black and noises fading from your ears that you didn't heard her call your name or shout with panic when she saw you almost slowly falling. But at least the man get something he deserved for hurting this goddess of woman trying to wake you up with evident worry in her eyes for you...

(Continue with your own choosing)

LARISSA WEEMS X obsessed Reader

Yeah... Did I forgot to post this the last time after I'm sobber?? YESSSSS 😆

Also I'm very aware of plot holes and the likes >.< XD

[forbidden-sorcery]

When does a person really disappear? When they die? When there's no one left who remembers them? When they're torn away from their loved ones, from their identity? Or when the void left in those who knew them becomes too deep to ever be filled? These are questions I often ask myself. Sometimes I tell myself that some part of us will always remain, a flicker of what we were, of the energy that allowed us to love, move, think. Other times I tell myself it's not like that; that ultimately we've all vanished already. Like when you look at the stars knowing that many of the ones you see no longer exist; they've been dead for thousands of years. You're looking at the past, but at the same time the future. It's the same with human beings. It's a sinister thing. I look at myself in the mirror and I glimpse traces of the child I was, but at the same time I know that the image reflected one day will not be. There will be nothing left. We're an infinitesimal flash in the history of this meat grinder we call the Universe, and soon the memory will fade even of the lives and ideas we consider unassailable, eternal: Catholicism, Jesus Christ, Darwin, Julius Caesar, Plato, God, Love... Some star will go poof, and everything will be wiped out by its gravitational collapse. We'll be digested by the great cosmic mechanism. The end of history, of civilization, of human consciousness, of the millennia we spent struggling to rise out of the mud. All that remains will be dust, gas, and disassembled matter. Maybe not even that. Maybe there will be nothing left but a black hole, an absence capable of devouring light, something beyond the scope of our imagination.

Luigi Musolino - A Different Darkness

[gumnut-logic]

“It’s the last house at the end of the street, Virgil.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said without the usual spark. The grey of the destroyed landscape sucked everything from everything. A pall of smoke and haze, black remnants of lives, homes and the tragedy of the night before.

International Rescue had been called to a massive bushfire in the Yarra Ranges in Victoria, Australia. The CFA had had it under control the previous day, John keeping an eye on it anyway, but an unexpected change in wind direction in the evening had it jumping firebreaks and tearing through an unprotected valley and directly through a township.

With the vast tall forests of mountain ash, eucalypts full of volatile oil just waiting to burst into flame, combined with the hot and blustery northerly, not even IR could stop the firestorm from taking lives and property.

Thunderbird Two had her fire suppression equipment, but the massive plane was a speck against the wall of flame.

There were forces of nature that just couldn’t be stopped.

The Tracys dodged and nabbed trapped people. Thunderbird Two deployed a huge water cannon, sourcing water from the local reservoir, as the CFA water bombed around them, desperate to protect what lives they could. But nothing was stopping the fire.

It tore through the town leaving agony in its wake.

Dawn was grey and dismal, but it brought rain. The sky rumbled, threatening to spark more fires in the ranges, but the deluge came and dampened the remaining flame enough to once again get the front under control.

But it was too late for the town.

It was gone.

Virgil walked the length of the street, his exo-suit rubbing on aching shoulders. Burnt out cars and collapsed homes lined the road from one end to the other. The skeletons of black trees marched off into the distance behind it all.

Haze hovered above ash-clogged puddles in the pavement.

It wasn’t what Christmas morning was supposed to be.

The last house at the end of the street had fully collapsed in on itself. A burnt-out car sat in the driveway, its trunk lid and one of its doors open.

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what that likely meant.

He steeled himself and walked past the remains he knew he was going to find in the car.

Nothing could be done.

Nothing.

He focussed on the whine of his suit as his boots stepped in wet ash and strode across the front yard to the remains of the house. He had to clear his throat to speak to John. “Tell me where, Thunderbird Five.”

“Possibly in the basement? The lifesign is below ground level.”

The house had been old, the wooden floorboards disintegrating in the heat. Virgil leapt through the remains of a wall, landing on rubble in what had likely been a wine cellar. The heat had been so intense, that glass bottles had become slag.

Glass crunched under his boots. “Right or left?”

“Eastern side, southern corner.”

There was a mass of rubble collapsed against the only standing wall of the building.

“This is International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?”

He turned up the pickups on his exterior mikes.

Nothing. It was probably a blip. How the hell could anything survive this holocaust?

His shoulders dropped.

But then...something? A whimper?

Maybe?

Virgil began digging.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of solid work to move enough burnt masonry to reach a hole in the wall at the very base of the structure. And in what appeared to be the bottom of a dumb waiter he found the lifesign.

The little puppy whimpered at him, trembling with fear.

Aw, hell.

“John, lifesign is a dog.”

“One moment, Thunderbird Two.” The puppy stared, the green, yellow and blue of Virgil’s suit reflected in its brown eyes. “There is no dog registered at that address. Deliver to the local authorities. You are needed to airlift some survivors to Melbourne. Report to Scott on the other side of town.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

Virgil slid his arms out from the suit and bent aching knees. “Hey, little one, do you want to come with me?”

The puppy shivered and looked him up and down, hesitating.

“I’m with International Rescue, we’re here to help.” He took a step closer. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Maybe it was something in his voice, his stance, or simply because the puppy had no choice, but as Virgil reached into the box it was sitting in, the puppy made no protest as he picked it up.

A quick examination for injury revealed her to be a girl. She shuddered up against Virgil’s chest. “Don’t worry, it’s all over, you’re safe.”

Sliding one arm back into his suit, he started making his way out of the ruined building, turning his back on the tiny hole that had somehow saved the little dog’s life.

-o-o-o-

Perhaps it was because she sat so quietly with him. Perhaps because it was Christmas Day. Most likely it was because Virgil had reached his limit of pain.

When he found the RSPCA tent, specially set up for lost pets, he gently handed over the little puppy. She let out a whimper and began crying.

No barking, just this godawful crying that tore at his heart.

“You will be fine here, little one.” The attendant was one of those kindly older ladies and she hugged the gangly bundle of fluff to her chest as Virgil turned to leave, Scott in his ear.

But the puppy let out such a scream of anguish, Virgil turned around without thinking. She was struggling in the volunteer’s arms and before either of them could react, she managed to wriggle free and dash over to him, her little body trembling on his left boot.

He reached down and gathered her into his arms. “You can’t come with me. I can’t-“ But she was rubbing her head up under his chin, little sounds in her throat.

And he couldn’t.

Just couldn’t.

His eyes met the eyes of the lady volunteer and she smiled. “We will keep her details if you would like to take her with you. If anyone contacts us, we can let you know.” And the volunteer was just as hopeful as the puppy in his arms. After all, there was no life at the RSPCA unless a home was found.

He looked down at her little brown eyes again.

No, he couldn’t.

Damnit, Scott was going to kill him.

Maybe for just a few days?

The excuse provided a simple solution, so he took it.

Without a word, he handed his IR contact details to the volunteer, and, puppy in hand, turned his back to the tent and strode towards the big green hulk parked in the distant haze.

“Well, little one, you have definitely made an interesting choice. Let me introduce you to my big green partner.”

-o-o-o-

It was well past Christmas lunch, or rather the lack of it, before IR was given the all clear to return to base. During the entire time, the little puppy sat beside Virgil’s pilot chair, apparently unfazed by the deep bass rumble of Thunderbird Two.

When he picked up both Gordon and Alan the dynamic changed just a little.

Gordon dragged himself onto the flight deck first, a groan in every step. “Christmas just gets more exciting every year.” It was true. Nine out of ten Christmas Days were side-swiped by a disaster, to the point that the Tracy Christmas tradition was a modular and movable celebration nowadays. No guarantees and no defined day. It happened around December twenty-fifth, there about, when they could, between call outs.

Suddenly the little puppy was in his lap.

“What is that?”

Virgil looked up. His brother was covered in soot and looked as tired as Virgil felt. “This is Bo.” And he had no idea where the name came from, it just seemed right and the moment clicked.

“Bo?”

“Yeah.” Newly christened Bo peered up at Gordon around Virgil’s arm. “She survived the fire.” A swallow. “Her family didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Alan, as always, had more energy than any of them, and showed it as he waltzed into the cabin. “So why aren’t we moving?”

Bo let off a sharp bark.

Everyone jumped.

“What the hell, Virgil?”

Bo was literally glaring at Alan.

“Hey, Bo, calm down, that’s just Alan. He’s annoying, but tolerable.” The little puppy looked up at him, her gorgeous brown eyes just melting him inside. He was so gone.

“Hey!” That from Alan.

“Scott’s going to kill you.” That from Gordon, who was approaching slowly.

“Yeah, I know.” It was a sigh.

Gordon crouched down beside Virgil’s chair. “Hey, little one, what gave you the idea to attach yourself to this big oaf?” Pulling off one of his gloves, the aquanaut reached out and offered the puppy his hand. She eyed him warily before tentatively sniffing at his fingers.

She sneezed.

Alan snorted.

Bo blinked and stared at Gordon for a moment. The aquanaut kept still and eventually she sniffed at him again, before nuzzling at his hand. He blatantly took that as permission and gently rubbed behind her ear. “You are a cute little thing, aren’t you.”

She licked his wrist.

“Oh, I can see why our heavy lifter fell for you. You’ve got it all in those brown eyes of yours, haven’t you.” Gordon shrugged. “Though I will admit they are the best colour for manipulation.”

“And he speaks from experience.” To Virgil’s surprise, Gordon actually jumped. “Did you forget I was here? Not absorbed by those brown eyes are we?” He couldn’t help but smile at his brother. At least one was as besotted as he had to admit he was.

Yes, Scott was definitely going to kill him.

“Shut up, Virgil.”

Bo backed off, once again hiding behind Virgil’s baldric.

“Hey, Gordon, watch the tone.”

“Sorry, Bo.”

“Are we actually going home at some point? I have a date with my bed.”

Gordon stood up, pulling out the co-pilot’s seat. “No rush, Allie, she’ll wait for you.”

“Augh.”

“Sit down, Alan, I’m just finishing pre-flight.” Tired and cranky could easily become nasty if not attended to.

Bo curled up, nestled against his harness, as Alan grumpily pulled out his seat.

“Virgil, where the hell are you?”

Speaking of tired and cranky... “Launching now, Thunderbird One.” As if prompted, he received clearance from Australian Air Control.

TB2 rumbled beneath as he activated VTOL, ash and dust swirling up around them. As soon as he had enough height, he engaged her rear thrusters and tore off over the Alps, across the coast and out into the Tasman.

“ETA fifteen minutes.” At least they weren’t too far from home.

Bo fell asleep in his lap.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was on the verge of joining Bo in slumber as Thunderbird Two spun slowly in her hanger, eventually coming to a final stop.

So tired.

Beside him, Alan poked Gordon awake. “Ugh, what? Oh.” You could almost hear his brain booting.

Virgil worked around Bo as he did his post-flight checks, his brothers, well, mostly Gordon, groaning as they got to their feet and waddled towards the hatch. “C’mon, Virg, Alan’s pining for his bed.”

“You two go ahead. I just need to finish post-flight.” He didn’t turn around, but he could feel Gordon’s eyes on him.

“Sure, whatever.” And he heard the hatch lower to the hangar floor.

His brothers gone, Virgil let himself relax back against his chair, his shoulders sagging. He let out a long breath. “So, Bo, how are we going to do this?”

The puppy woke as if on command and turned to stare up at him. Gently her tail began to wag.

Virgil let a tired smile cross his face.

Encouraged, Bo jumped up and put her two front paws on his chest, reaching up, trying to lick his face despite not quite being tall enough.

The smile became a grin.

“Okay, okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up as he pushed his seat backwards and stood. Immediately he was bathed in puppy drool. He couldn’t help but laugh. He surfaced above her licking and cradled her in his arms. “We need to get you some food.” His stomach rumbled ominously. “We need to get me some food.”

And a shower. A shower definitely wouldn’t hurt.

If he could hold off the sleep.

If he didn’t call it a stagger, it wasn’t a stagger, but he had obviously been sitting in his seat for far too long ferrying all those survivors to Melbourne on repeated trips. It was his turn to groan as both his back and legs complained loudly at the sudden demands for movement.

Bo started chewing on his glove.

Somehow he made it back to his rooms without encountering anyone. Shutting the door, he let Bo loose on the floor and began stripping off his uniform, hitting the buttons on his preprogrammed shower cubicle. Moments later he walked under the spray and let it wash the day from his skin.

God, that felt good.

As his muscles relaxed under the heat, sleep became more and more attractive, and by the time he stumbled out of the water, all thoughts of food had vanished.

He took the three steps across his room from the ensuite and threw himself facedown on the bed, still partly wet, still naked.

He was asleep within moments.

-o-o-o-

He was being kissed.

Her lips were warm, her tongue wet, her whiskers soft against his stubble...

Uh?

She licked his eye.

Wha-?

Virgil, always slow to respond upon waking, opened said eye only to get an eyeful of slobber. A soft paw thwapped him on the cheek. Huh? he blinked attempting to clear his eyesight, a hand coming up to defend himself.

Fortunately, his brain came online and memory kicked in. “B-Bo?”

A tongue wrapped around his nose and left it wet.

Ugh.

He wiped his face with his hand, stretching backwards on his pillow, desperate to get out of reach.

The puppy landed on his chest, her paws kneading his chest hair, her little claws completing his wake-up process rather abruptly.

Oh god.

“Bo, down, honey, down.”

He was completely ignored.

Sitting up, he attempted to grab her in his arms, but missed. The little puppy landed on things that puppies had no right to land on. Or stomp on for that matter.

He winced.

“Ooh, okay, come here.” He lifted her off his lap, holding her close, her tail pummelling his belly. “I’m awake, okay.” Again he found himself pinned by her brown eyes. “Aww, c’mon with the cute, Bo, you’re going to melt my brain.”

“Assuming you have a brain to melt.” And Scott was standing in his doorway.

Virgil glared up at him. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did. Grandma sent me to tell you that Christmas dinner is ready.”

Virgil frowned at his brother over the top of Bo’s ears, ignoring the glare the blue eyes were directing at the puppy in his arms. “I thought we’d do Christmas tomorrow.”

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. Grandma thought it would be best to sneak it in tonight, since it is Christmas Day, after all.” Scott’s lips thinned. “Where did you get that from?”

“She’s a rescue.”

“Usually we leave our rescues on the continent we find them.”

“She had no one.”

“Unfortunately, that is nothing new.” And one of his hands had moved to his hip.

Virgil sighed. “Scott, it’s fine, it’s only for a few days.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Virgil held back his retort. He knew to pick his fights and now was not the time. “Her name is Bo.”

Scott looked at him and then at Bo. “Hurry up, your dinner is getting cold.” The ghost of a smirk. “And don’t forget to wear clothes.”

“Funny, funny, ha, ha.” But his brother had left.

Virgil let his shoulders drop. “Sorry, Bo, I think you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Bo just licked him some more.

It wasn’t until he went looking for his boots that he discovered the wonderful deposits Bo had left for him on the floor.

Ugh.

And apparently one of his favourite boots had served as a meal also.

He closed his eyes and sighed again.

Half dressed, he cleaned up the mess, and five minutes later he waltzed downstairs, Bo in his arms and barefoot. Time to face the inevitable music.

-o-o-o-

A Tracy Christmas used to be snow, roast turkey, stockings by the fire, the occasional Christmas carol and family.

Since starting International Rescue it had changed.

Firstly, they were in the tropics. The only fires available in those temperatures were ones that required firefighting equipment. Having grown up with snow, it was still extremely weird. But it had its advantages. For one you could go outside in the minimum of clothing, something Gordon took advantage of every day of the year. There were no snowball fights, but these were fast replaced with water fights. There was no ice skating, but there was water skiing if anyone could get up the energy to get the boat out. And surfing, let’s not forget Scott’s attempts at that. Virgil would admit that he didn’t mind a little surfboard action himself. He wouldn’t say he was very good at it, but at least Gordon had never had to save him like he had Scott.

There were still Christmas trees and tinsel and stockings that no-one ever considered wearing hung from the nearest mantelpiece-looking piece of furniture.

There was still turkey and roast potatoes and all the yummy food crucial for a good Christmas meal, but it was often cooked outside in barbecue ovens and seafood and cold food had been added to the menu. In fact, the traditional dinner had become more of a banquet by the pool.

As Virgil walked out onto the patio, he couldn’t help but smile at the Christmas tree that had obviously been hurriedly moved out here from the comms room. It sat a little lopsided and the star on top was having a few issues with gravity. That was new, as was the liberal tinsel and Christmas lights strung from palm tree to palm tree, across the pool and back several times.

“Fifty bucks says Gordon tries to water volleyball the tinsel at least once.”

Virgil smirked as he stepped up beside his next youngest brother. “Not touching that one. I value my money.”

John was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and had a beer in his hand. Bo was immediately interested in this new person. She strained towards John, her nose literally twitching towards the hand holding the beer.

His brother must have caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively took a step away.

“Oh, sorry, John, this is Bo.” Bo was climbing over his arm, desperate to get closer to the astronaut. Virgil held her tight, worried she would fall.

“Uh, hello.” John turned towards them, frowning. “Since when do you own a dog?”

“Since this morning.”

“Does Scott know?” They both instinctively looked over at their eldest brother who was hovering over one of the barbecues energetically discussing something with Grandma - probably how not to burn the food.

“He does.”

“And you still have it?”

“Her.”

“Her.”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that one.” John drank his beer.

“She had no one else.”

John arched an eyebrow at him and then frowned. “Oh, Virgil.” His shoulders slumped.

“I am an adult now, John. It won’t be like last time.”

“God, I hope not.”

Virgil stared at his brother, only to see the genuine concern in his green eyes. A sigh. “It won’t happen again.”

John reached out and gently touched his shoulder. “No, it won’t, because you will remember that you have four brothers who are all here for you, won’t you.” God, that green gaze was penetrating.

“It will be fine.”

Bo yipped at John, her tail beating Virgil’s chest.

The astronaut smiled and offered the little dog his hand. She sniffed and licked him almost immediately.

“I think you have been approved.”

John smiled and Virgil couldn’t help but do the same.

“Virgil!” And Grandma was arrowing in on his position.

“Incoming.” John was smirking.

“Hey, Grandma.”

But his grandmother only had eyes for Bo. “Who is this?”

Virgil smiled again. “This is Bo. Bo, this is Grandma.”

Bo whacked him with her tail and literally leapt from his arms into his grandmother’s.

“Woah.” Suddenly with arms full of wriggling puppy enthusiastically licking her face, his grandmother was laughing. “Oh dear, you are a cutie. Let me have a look at you.” And she held Bo out at arms length, her eyes critical. “A little hard to tell at her age, but my bet says she’s of boxer stock, around three months old. Such a beautiful brindle and that face.” Virgil couldn’t help but agree. Bo looked like she had dipped her face in a pot of ink, her brown eyes surrounded by gorgeous black coat that quickly bled to brindle down her back with a spot of white on her front. “Where did you find her?”

Virgil looked at his feet, remembered why they were bare, and looked back up at his grandmother. “This morning’s rescue. She lost everything.”

Grandma turned her attention back to Bo. “Oh, honey. You survived the fire?” Bo licked her nose. “Well, you are safe here.” Grandma curled her arms around the puppy and scratched her ears. “Has Virgil fed you anything yet?” She glanced at him and he shrugged. He got frowned at for his trouble. Grandma turned away, walking towards the barbecues with Bo in her arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well, that didn’t take long, did it?” John was still smirking at him.

A series of barks and a yelp from Grandma, and suddenly Bo was dashing amongst legs in his direction. “Woah.” He crouched down and caught her as she leapt for him. She wriggled and licked, her little body trembling under his hands. “Hey, hey, honey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” She snuggled up under his chin. He couldn’t help but return the hug.

Grandma approached, worry on her face. “I’m sorry, Virgil, I didn’t realise.”

“It’s okay.” He reached an arm around his grandmother, bringing her into the hug. “She’s just had a scary day.” He pulled both of them close.

Scott was glaring at him from a distance.

John smiled at them and drank his beer.

Bo started chewing on his collar.

-o-o-o-

As the evening progressed, Bo slowly let herself part from Virgil as each of the members of his family, bar Alan and Scott, came to say hello or fed her from the table. There was one interesting moment when the little puppy encountered Sherbert for the first time.

Bo yipped.

Sherbert yapped.

And as the entire party fell silent, the two dogs stared each other down.

Virgil was poised for a rescue and Penelope was not far behind him, but a moment later Bo licked Sherbert across the nose, Sherbert gently butted the little puppy with his head, and from that point onwards they were best of friends, Sherbert quite proudly showing his new friend around.

But never out of sight of Virgil.

Bo and Parker had a staring moment not long after, but Sherbert barrelled on in and head butted the driver, snapping him out of it. It wasn’t long before the little puppy had him rubbing her ears as well.

Kayo stood her distance, assessing Bo as much as the puppy was assessing her. A calm arched eyebrow slowly rose as Bo tilted her head up at the security specialist. She pressed her lips together and faced Virgil. “There will be training.”

Virgil blinked and his sister turned and stalked off. Bo eyed her the entire time, only finally distracted by a yelp from Alan as Gordon threw him in the pool.

The engineer was left wondering if he should be worried or not.

The meal was delicious, of course. Scott had managed to keep Grandma away from the barbecues and MAX had been on task for a good part of the day. There was the mandatory turkey, and this year a couple of large snapper had been baked to perfection, along with some crayfish, oysters, salads and roast vegetables. This was followed by pie, oh, so much pie, Christmas cookies, and Christmas pudding with custard and the option of ice cream.

Virgil, as usual, made sure he took advantage of all the options. Consequently, post-banquet found him sprawled on a pool lounger staring up at the stars amongst the tinsel overhead. Bo, who had also eaten probably more than she should have, was curled up between his feet.

The soft sounds of quiet carols and muted conversation wafting across the water lulled him gently to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Scott felt like Scrooge. He was tired, worried and even a little angry. He was not enjoying himself, no matter how hard he tried. Grandma had cornered him at least twice, her hand on his shoulder trying to soothe his ire.

The annoying thing was that he wasn’t even sure what he was angry about. The rescue hadn’t been the best, but they had done what they could and some lives had been saved that otherwise wouldn’t have. The team had performed well, no one had been injured, they were all back home safe and sound.

And there was food, family and Christmas. There wasn’t really much more he could ask for.

His eyes settled on Virgil, asleep on one of the loungers, oblivious to the tinsel being draped across his hair by Gordon behind him.

Scott sighed.

But then a little head bobbed up between his brother’s bare feet and Bo barked at Gordon quite firmly.

Virgil was obviously far too out of it to wake, but Gordon looked appropriately abashed at the challenge.

Scott found himself smiling.

Realised he was smiling, dumped the smile and frowned.

Gordon scampered off leaving a sleeping Virgil in a crown of silver tinsel.

The little dog leapt off the lounger and chased after the aquanaut.

Okay, he had to admit the dog was adorable. He could see what had captured his brother’s eye, and Scott certainly had no objection to adding to their family.

But Virgil...when Virgil loved, he loved with his whole heart, and last time he had lost a pet, it had been bad, so bad.

They had lost so much in their lives already, why volunteer to lose more?

He sighed. It was stupid to think that way, but part of him could remember that devastated teenager, the depression and the mess that followed. Virgil had been as broken as the rest of them when their mother died, but when his dog died two years later, his reaction had been so self-destructive he had needed counselling and a therapist. Scott didn’t know if the two incidents were related or if it was how his brother connected to pets, or whatever. He only knew he never wanted to see his brother go through that again.

Their father was missing, and here was Virgil with a pet once again.

Sure, he was an adult now, and had tackled so much loss since, but...

Another sigh.

A yip and he looked down to see said dog staring up at him with a mouth full of tinsel, tail wagging.

“Gordon!”

“Yesssss, masster?” His brother sidled up with a bow.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Did you want to face your brother having to tell him that his new puppy died choking on tinsel?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.”

The aquanaut scooped up the little dog and with gentle words extricated the tinsel from her mouth.

A moment later Gordon held her up to his cheek and Scott had the experience of two sets of brown eyes staring at him adoration.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“A puppy?” Gordon grinned at him. “She is a rather cute, isn’t she?”

“Leave it, Gordon.”

His brother frowned. “What’s chewing on your underwear?”

“Gordon-“

“Hey, it was a legit question, bro. You’re a grumpy ass on Christmas Day. Where’s the merry? We have food and there will be presents. And there is a puppy. You couldn’t ask for more cuteness.” Gordon held up Bo who attempted to lick Scott’s nose.

“Gordon-‘

“Nope, so not going down with you, bro. We’ve earned some happy. We’re all here, in one piece, it’s lovely weather. Cheer up, for goodness sake.” Despite himself, Gordon frowned. “Here have some puppy love.” And suddenly Scott found himself with his arms full of wriggling Bo. Gordon turned and walked off, eventually calling out to Alan, no doubt looking for mischief.

Bo tilted her head to one side and stared up at him.

Aw, hell, weaponised cuteness.

She jumped up and licked his nose.

Scott sighed.

Voice low. “You know, you better look after my brother. He’s a good man and he does a lot of good things.” A swallow. “He’s a little prone to heroics. Perhaps we can team up in that department and help keep his butt alive.”

Her tongue lolled out one side of her mouth and she grinned.

“Maybe try that on the Hood and solve all our problems.”

He gave in and drew her close to his chest, rubbing under her chin.

“I really hope we don’t regret this.”

-o-o-o-

“PRESENTS!”

Alan’s voice cut through his slumber and shook him awake. Wha-?

“Time to wake up, sleepy head.” Scott’s voice.

A sharp little bark.

Bo.

He flung his eyes open, and immediately squinted at the fairy lights floating in the light breeze far above. A blink and to his left a shadow formed into his eldest brother. His blue eyes were smiling as he sat on the next lounge over, holding Bo, scratching her gently. She was obviously enjoying it.

Virgil frowned. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“I was.” His brother shrugged. “I got over it.” Bo was licking Scott’s fingers.

Wow, the ability to tame the savage big brother. The little girl must be heaven-sent.

There was a whir of wheels and MAX tore out onto the patio decked out in tinsel and lugging brightly coloured presents. MiniMAX darted in behind him carrying a smaller present which was deposited carefully on the table before he disappeared inside only to return with another.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Virgil peered up at his brother before stretching the length of the lounger. Several joints cracked and the ache across his shoulders from the morning vaguely made its presence known. A yawn. “I’m fine. Just tired. This morning sucked.”

Tinsel slid down his face. He sighed and threw it off. Gordon was getting repetitive.

Scott dipped his head, attempting to hide a smile, and looked down at Bo. “True.” He scratched her under her chin one more time before offering her to him. “Here.”

Bo didn’t bother to wait for him to sit up, she bounded out of Scott’s arms and onto Virgil’s belly. “Oof.” She then danced up and down on it.

Scott grinned at him. “She’s not going to be little when she grows up.”

“Augh, she’s not little now.” He managed to capture her enough so he could sit up, but she struggled free excitedly and dashed from his arms, jumping on the lounger, just as MiniMAX buzzed over with a small present.

Bo barked at him and MiniMAX dodged to deposit the present in Virgil’s lap. He caught it, but with his hands now occupied, he wasn’t fast enough to grab Bo before she let off another bark, jumped excitedly and latched her teeth onto the little robot.

The result was immediate.

MiniMAX shrieked, several of his legs caught in the puppy’s mouth, and with a whir of rotor blades, took off madly across the patio.

With Bo hanging on.

“Bo!” Virgil dropped the present and made a grab for the pair, but missed.

Every eye turned to see what the commotion was about. Virgil stumbled over the lounger and kicked it out of the way. He was vaguely aware of Scott doing something similar. “Brains!”

MiniMAX was obviously panicking. The little robot darted about trying to shake off his assailant. Bo was whining in her throat.

Virgil dashed after them.

Despite the puppy’s weight, MiniMAX still managed a great deal of height, Brains’ ‘build ‘em tough’ policy obviously carrying through to his robots. Despite having the strength to carry the puppy, the off-balance mass hampered MiniMAX’s navigation and they were wobbling all over the place.

All Virgil could see was a tragedy in the making. The pool, the concrete, anything horribly solid. He ran beneath them, desperately attempting to reach the now whining puppy. Family members and furniture were dodged and shoved out of the way as he clambered after them.

A chair ended up in the pool. Gordon squawked and almost joined it. Virgil leapt off an empty lounge, made a grab for them, missed and ended up in the Christmas tree.

Fake pine needles jabbed him in the face as he went down in a pile of tinsel and Christmas baubles. He swore, his clothing caught, his hair caught, and his everything tangled in tinsel, but he made it to his feet just in time to see Bo let go.

“No!”

Oblivious to everything other than the puppy falling, Virgil finally got traction under his bare feet, took a running leap and grabbed Bo from the air. He instinctively wrapped himself around her, rolling in midair, tinsel and baubles flung in all directions.

As he plummeted into the pool.

The splash took his senses, muffling exclamations, and repeated shouts of his name. There was dark blue, and wet, and, for a moment, blessed silence.

Then logic reasserted itself and he kicked for the surface.

Sound, light and cool air on his skin. He blinked water out of his eyes as he lifted Bo up so she could breathe, his legs kicking to keep them afloat.

She whined at him as if to tell him off, sneezed, and began enthusiastically licking the saltwater off his face.

He couldn’t help but grin, and he knew he wasn’t the only one as laughter drifted across the water.

“You trashed the tree, Virg.”

“I don’t think he cares, Gordon.” He looked up to see Grandma smiling at him.

And no, he didn’t. As Scott poked him with a pole to help drag him to the edge and Bo decided his ear might do for her next meal, he suddenly felt joy. It could simply have been relief, but he was going to tack it up as Christmas joy and enjoy it while he could.

-o-o-o-

“Only you, Virgil.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“I have no doubt of that, it never is.”

“Aw, c’mon, Scott.”

“If it was intentional then I would have to accuse you of doing it deliberately just to get out of helping with the Christmas dishes.”

“We have a dishwasher.” Bo let off a bark as MiniMAX flew past dragging a bag full of recyclable cups, plates and cutlery, giving Virgil and his dog an extremely wide berth. “And there are hardly any dishes.”

“You are still getting out of clean up.”

“C’mon, Scott, you know me better than that. Ow!”

“Sit still. I’ve almost got all of it.”

Virgil leant back against the lounge, Bo curled up in his lap. “I’m not particularly happy about this either you know.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know that, Ow!”

“Well, if you would watch where you were going, you wouldn’t have collided with the Christmas tree. And what’s with the bare feet anyway?”

“Bo ate one of my boots.”

Scott snorted and pulled out yet another tiny piece of glass Christmas bauble from the bottom of Virgil’s left foot. “She hasn’t been here twenty-four hours yet and she has already caused havoc.”

“She’s a puppy.”

“I noticed.” Scott sighed, peering through his magnifying visor at his brother’s foot. “I think that’s all of it. Please don’t do that again. You’ll be limping for a week.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

As Scott wrapped his foot in gauze, he eyed the puppy on Virgil’s lap. “And you, young lady, I thought we had a deal.”

To Virgil’s surprise, Bo’s head bobbed up and she looked distinctly guilty.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Hmm, don’t let it happen again.”

Bo yapped at him.

Virgil stared at both of them. “What?”

“None of your business, you just lay back and look after yourself.” And Scott was smirking.

Ooookaay.

He relaxed back against the lounge and stared up at the fairy lights above.

Bo stomped up the length of him and licked his eyeball.

He coughed up a laugh and grabbed an armful of wriggly puppy.

“I think that was a Merry Christmas, Virg.” Scott held his injured foot and grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

-o-o-o-

[sunshineandviolets]

Had the absolute pleasure getting to write for @ava-du-mortain, surprise hehe <3 Had a blast learning about your darling Areen - I adore her!! This was for the @wayhavenficexchange - had so much fun getting back in the groove to write!

Darkness. From the moment she opened and adjusted her eyes, pitch black was all that surrounded her. Complete and utter darkness. Shivers crawled up her spine. The hairs along her arms stood straight, unable to curl back into itself. Jaw clenched. Teeth grinded against one and another as she tried to find an exit. She has to find an exit, where was the exit -  

 Breathe Areen. You have to breathe.

What sort of abyss was she floating or falling amongst? A black hole that had collapsed within itself, that blocked out the light. There was nothing, to see nor to feel. She slammed her eyes shut again to calm her mind with deep breaths, hoped to wake up from the suffocating night and ignore the whiff of salt that brushed against her nose.

Salt?

No, that cannot be correct. Surely not.

Then as if she was in a movie, the scene was quick to change. From the black void that was once before, Areen found herself laid on top of a hard wooden surface. With a rough texture that had scraped against her back. She glanced up and saw that dark grey clouds had filled every inch of the night sky, not a single star nor constellation could have peaked through the water-filled fluff bubbles that won’t need much time to pop. When Areen had begun to stand, that whiff of salt had rushed back to tickle her nose. She glanced around to observe her surroundings and noted there was no doubt she was in fact on a boat. From the gentle rocking back and forth that could jumble your stomach, to hearing the sounds of the waves that crashed against the side of the boat. She could hear the flaps of the sails, the whistling winds and slow pitter patter of raindrops that started to fall. The coldness had returned, as if it never left. However, the more she gazed and wandered around the ship, there was only one question that remained in her mind.

Where is the crew? Anyone… Everyone – where are they?

Besides the crashing waves and the burst clouds, there had been nothing but silence. Areen knew she was alone. Alone and lost on a ship with no direction stated. In that moment of realisation her lungs started to tighten, eyes started to swell up with tears and she hugged her knees fiercely towards her chest. Was this how it ended for her? Lost and separated from those she loves, unable to figure out which way to turn to return home. To reunite with her friends, her family, her love.

The coldness swarm around her with the icy breath of the whistling winds that started to freeze her cheeks. However instead of a frozen statue, Areen felt herself melt with the sudden warmth. As she glanced up, she was greeted with the amber light highlighting the shore edge. Her ears perked up at the muffled voices that had become louder and louder as the boat drew near. The light beamed through the once grey clouds and tickled her cheek like sweet soft kisses to help calm her mind, which brought a smile when she could see –

Beep!

A smile that was bigger than her own, a face blurred –

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Areen groaned as she tiredly shut off the alarm that had ever so rudely interrupted a nice end to a terrible nightmare. One that had brought shivers when she was forced to think about it again. Half past seven in the morning, the sun arose for the day. The shine peaked through a gap in her curtains, warmed an already warm apartment. Areen had found herself humming to the melody of the early birds, a tune she had been used to each morning. Soft and peaceful. Despite the sudden loud beeps of her alarm, or the blinding sun that greets every day or even the bird’s melodic tune – it was another that truly could wake Areen up.

“Good morning, babes!! 🥰😘”

Her darling Farah. The most cheerful, colourful vampire she was forever thankful to meet that faithful day at the library. Not even the warmth of the sun itself could compare to how a single text from Farah was able to light up Areen’s face in an instance.

As Areen went to freshen up in the bathroom, Farah sent another message.

“Hope you dreamt of me 😉’cause you know I was dreaming about you hehe 💕”

The remembrance of her dream, or more so a nightmare, crawled up her back. The icy cold atmosphere brought back the shivers. She took a deep breath and glanced towards the mirror. Dark oceanic eyes piercing back towards her. Another breath in, another breath out.

It was not real. You are here, you are fine. Everything is fine.

“Morning to you as well, darling” Areen sent to Farah, “You know any dream with you could always cheer up my mornings x”.

“Aww babes! Sooo was that a yes, someone can’t keep me out her mind hm?”

“Of course, x,” More than you could realise. “and it seems that I am not the only one, I hope?”

“Thinking of you? How could I not! 😊 –“

Areen let out a soft chuckle when Farah listed every possible compliment she could give. With each passing compliment had caused her insides to flip. Her cheeks darken as she read on. That gorgeous vampire of hers never failed to make Areen fluster, even when she was not present in the room.

 “You flatter me, darling. But that’s one of the things I adore about you.”

After the last message sent, Areen dusted herself off and made her way through the apartment. It was on the smaller side to most, but the warmer colourful décor and soft plush couches scattered with pillows helped her turn it from a bland boring apartment to a cosy respite she was glad to call home. Her style would be considered vintage, with intricate patterns and favouring natural wood over newer styles. Her apartment may look old or like ‘stepping out of a time machine’ as Farah ever so lovingly put it before,  but it is what makes her most comfortable. Having a space that reflects her, regardless of if others considered it odd with the severe lack of modern technology. She preferred her space to be cluttered with books, as though she lived in her own personal library.

Areen reached over to pick up the book that was spilled open on her coffee table. It was an older tome, quite delicate that she had borrowed from Nate when she wished to research further into the arcane. An unusual topic to choose if she were to speak to others in town, but after meeting with Unit Bravo and found out about the supernatural world – It had become a topic she had more interest to learn about. If you had told her a year ago about belief in the arcane or supernaturals in general, she would’ve simply shaken her head at the absurd idea. Past Areen wouldn’t fathom the reality of magic or that she even ended up with a girlfriend who was an actual real-life vampire!

She let out a short laugh at how a year could’ve changed as she tucked the book in her bag – had made a mental note to return it back to Nate when she could meet up with him after work. Before she left, Areen took a final glance at herself in the hall mirror. She ran a hand over her tightly coiled braids, straightened out her cardigan and turtleneck. Took a breath as those blue eyes stared at her down. Kept the sounds of the crashing waves and an intruding storm at bay as she strolled through the door, was ready for the day to start.

♡♡♡

A benefit of having lived in such a small town as Wayhaven, the need to drive to get around places was practically non-existent. Instead of being stuck in traffic, Areen was able to enjoy the early summer breeze when she walked to work. The morning sky, whilst still had a few clouds, was a pleasant sight to see. The warm winds that blew her braids away from her face. The lush green trees, as full as a local at a dinner party, swayed without a care in the world. However, even if they made for a lovely sight, Areen was always mindful of those low hanging branches. With her long legs, she was one step away from getting smacked in the face.

Areen had kept her head high as she walked with purpose to the library. No distractions, only focused on the 10-minute walk from her apartment to her work. No distractions - but like a sailor who caught in a trap of a siren’s song, the smell of freshly baked bread and sweet sugary goodness geared her to a halt. Areen tended to pass on breakfast, as it doesn’t usually agree with her stomach so early in the day. However, it seemed that a whiff of sweetness tickled her nose and caused her to change direction into the local bakery. A short delay won’t hurt and at least she got to say morning to a dear friend.

The soft chimes rung as Areen entered and she was once again greeted with that gust of sweetness in the air. The bakery had been decorated with bold and bright summer colours, neat floral arrangements on every table  - each slightly different from the other. A large chalkboard was seen behind the counter, with the day’s special offers written in colourful chalk. Considering it was very early in the morning, there had been no line and only a few patrons that had already sat down with a drink. As though she had sensed her arrival, Haley’s smile beamed brighter when she noticed Areen.

“Morning Areen! Did not expect to see you so early in the day.”

“It’s good to see you Haley, and I suppose the smell of the warm pastries baking drew me in” She maintained a soft yet calm smile, “But I can never say no to see a good friend.”

Haley had let out a soft laugh, “and I very much appreciate that, would you like your usual?”

Areen glanced at the glass counter then nodded at the question. Haley was one of her closest friends, someone who spent a while getting to know and enjoyed being around – both at the bakery or out of work. It was no surprise that Haley was able to memorise something as simple as Areen’s order regardless of the time or day, a warm green tea with a pastry.

Haley returned a pleasant smile, “very well, feel free to take a seat and I’ll bring it over in a moment.”

Areen glanced around the bakery when she went to grab a seat. The bakery patrons ranged from an elderly couple huddled close whilst working on the morning crossword puzzle to a group of young perky teens who clearly forgot to do the day’s homework with them fretting around. Her heart warmed when the elderly woman leaned to press a soft kiss on her partner’s cheek. The sheer idea of becoming old with the one you love and cherish made her heart flutter. Well until the partner sent a scolding glare towards Areen’s direction and muttered “what do you think you’re looking at?”. The wife sent an apologetic smile before she turned back to her love. 

Speaking of love, Areen heard a ping from her mobile and her eyes lit up to another message from Farah.

“Missing you already babes , stuck in such a boooring meeting 😩!”   

Attached to the message was a rather cute selfie of Farah with an exhausted expression. Despite Areen’s main focus was on the pretty vampire, she had not missed the blurriness of a grumpy Mason and unamused Ava in the back. The sight let a chuckle out of her and responded back.

“Focus Ferfer, As much as I want, you can’t spend all your time thinking of me haha. ”

After a few minutes’ past, Haley arrived with her order and her usual kind-hearted soft smile. “Here you go, one green tea and fresh pastry as expected.”

“Thank you, I was just glad that I arrived before the morning rush fully started – “

In a sudden flash, the bakery door fling wide open – almost knocked over the nearby plant – and stood was a curly haired, freckled, cheeky grinned detective. Tina’s voice booms “Work doesn’t start till the sugar hits!” Areen had a small smile from that whilst shaking her head.

Haley instantly brightened when she noticed who arrived. Her cheeks had gotten more rosey when Tina greeted her with her usual amount of perkiness. Their hands brushed when Haley handed Tina her drink order, with the pile of sugar packets on the side. Areen noticed how a small touch had caused Haley’s face to become warmer than it usually was. Similar to how Areen got when she was with Farah, that vampire seemed to know exactly what it took to make her fluster like she was a hormonal teenager again. Areen glanced over at Tina and sighed as it seemed she was completely unaware of how her presence affected the young baker.

When Areen eyed the packets and gave Tina a look as she sat down at her table, Tina scoffed with a smile “You can’t say anything, Ms sweet tooth that makes the dentist shiver.”

Areen raised her hands in peace with a calm smile, “I didn’t even say a word.”

Tina stuck her tongue out, “you didn’t have too.”

The banter continued between the three of them, majority from Tina with various funny anecdotes from the station. Areen was fine simply listening to her rambles. Another message interrupted the conversation, but it was not something Areen would ever be mad about.

“Surely you know by now I can never get tired thinking of you, 🌞 or 🌑 <3 !!”

Her smitten expression must have been noticeable, when she looked up and saw Haley had a sweet smile, whilst Tina let out a groan.

“Gonna make us jealous over here with you fawning over that girlfriend of yours.”

Areen paused with a raised brow, “How did you know who I could be talking to?”

Tina barked out a laugh, “Oh please! There’s only one person that can make you light up like a flame.” Haley did not respond but nodded in confirmation.

Areen’s cheeks darkened but let out a cough and got up from her seat “It was lovely to speak with you both, but it seems time has gotten away, don’t wish to be late for work.”

Tina smirked as she poured more sugar in her coffee, “No need to get shy Ari, it's sweet to see you like that. Gosh I wished I had someone to receive cute messages from” She let out an exaggerated loud sigh.

Areen stopped at the door, glanced over her shoulder at both women “Perhaps the person you are looking for has been near the whole time.”

Haley was quick to go back to her work, cleaning up dishes and cups, whilst Tina rolled her eyes and groaned “urgh I wish – that would make things easier huh?”

Areen shook her head with a short laugh after she said her goodbyes and made her way to work.

♡♡♡

One of Areen’s favourite parts from working at the library was to see everyone that walked through those doors. Maintained a relaxed yet polite smile when she greeted the visitors , answered any and all questions they had. She sorted out tasks to the employees that worked that day and managed any queries that arose. She was known to be a sociable woman, having easily flown conversations with the visitors and calmed rather excitable children down when she led them to the children’s section for story time. Being around a community was like a warm blanket and she had no intention to leave the comfort it provided.

Whilst she was reshelving a collection of recently returned books, her tall height prevented her the need to use a step ladder, a single paper aeroplane flew across and landed perfectly on her book. The aeroplane was slightly crumpled with various hand drawn doodles and stickers scattered around. No rhyme or order, just an array of stars, hearts, well drawn flowers and even a colourful unicorn. The unicorn had a speech bubble with a phase written in curly writing.

♡ Open Me ♡

Even before she opened the aeroplane, Areen knew exactly who it was from. The artistically messy handwriting, adorable doodles and explosion of bright colours was an obvious giveaway – and yet still brought a small, surprised smile on her face. Her heart bloomed when she read what was hidden inside.

“Human realm roses are red,   Your eyes are strikingly blue,   Turn around ‘cause behind …  there is a gorgeous gift waiting for you ”.

So, she did and stood there was her beautiful girlfriend that invaded her thoughts every passing moment. She had her usual purple woollen beanie that barely covered her coiled poofy hair and beaming smile that reached her eyes. Farah flicked a two-finger salute with one hand still behind her back.

Areen had a questioning yet slightly amused expression, “Farah? I thought you were busy with the agency business?”

Farah shrugged with a cheeky grin, “I mean my patrol route was nearby, so I just had to see my favourite girl” she sent her a wink “Something about your expression tells me you do not mind one bit, did I get that right babe?”

Areen rolled her eyes still with pure affection on display, “You are always welcome here, as your company is whose I treasure the most.”

Farah cooed as she moved closer then paused when she remembered that she had a surprise behind her back. “Oh! I almost forgot – I wanted to give you these,” She held out a collection of wildflowers wrapped with a golden coloured ribbon. “I know Nate would say to choose each flower carefully and coordinate with their meanings and what goes together blah blah blah – but I thought they looked pretty, like you and hoped you would like them too.” Then would pause when she started to wave a hand, “Unless you don’t like these types and I could find another that you prefer or – “

Areen moved closer, used her free hand, and interrupted her rambles by taking a hold of hers. She gave it a gentle squeeze and leaned down to press a soft kiss on Farah’s cheek. “I love them, habibti. Thank you.” She watched as Farah’s eyes fluttered closed for a second and the kiss seemed to help ease her darling’s breaths. Farah gazed up through her lashes, her eyes beaming bright like the sun and had a soft genuine smile.

“And I love you, Ari”.

Those three words caused instant heart palpitations and for the social butterfly to become stunned silent. Her whole body warmed even more as Areen’s hands brushed against Farahs to take the flowers.

“You don’t mind if I stick around for longer?” Farah had the audacity to ask, as though she was unaware Areen would never say no. Not ever, not in a million years. Areen leaned against the bookshelf and watched as Farah had slipped into conversation with some of the visitors, charming them with a grin.

Being stranded lost and alone had always been a dark fear in the back of her mind. But in that moment, Areen stood amongst the personification of sunshine and spoke a silent whisper of endearment, a secret only heard by the two of them.  

She would not let herself drown within the darkness, not when those bright amber eyes found her gaze. Her own beacon of hope that shall guide her way back home.

“I love you. My heart, my soul, my lighthouse”

[444-athena]

The sun and the stars:

warnings: death (if any are missed please tell me!)

"Why did you become so close to your best friend's boyfriend after she died" I couldn't let him go. Not when he was the last thing of her that was left in the world, except myself. Becuase he was hurt in exactly the same way that I was. He was the only one who knew how bad it was. Both of us were missing a burning sun in our lives. She is the best thing to have ever happened to me; is, not was. Because, even though she might not be here anymore, her impact on me continues, shaping me into a better person with every memory i hold onto.

Him and I are just two stars stood together mourning the explosion of our sun. Two stars that can never shine as bright, but when faced with complete and total darkness seem to be just as bold anyway.

Sometimes even just looking at him is painful. His face reminds me of memories, of sunshine, of laughter, of dumb decisions, of staying up late and just talking about anything we could.  Things he says, sound like he's taken the words right out of her mouth and is just echoing them back for me to hear one more time. When its raining and he laughs like a child, she's there giggling and dancing along with him; when theres a loud car and he stops to look, she's there staring with the same awestruck face.

He reminds me of her. And sometimes it's almost too much to handle. Looking at him and seeing the other half of my heart, that's now cold and dead. Six foot underground, left to rot.

But I can't let go. Not when letting go risks forgetting all of the times I had with her. Not when letting go means letting go of the last part of what feels like the other half of me. Fuck, I've not felt whole since that night. Nothing I do seems to fill the gap she left. None of the bad decisions, the bad habbits, the running away from life, could fix the hole permanently burned into the centre of my chest, where a beating heart once lay.

Why her? Why was it her time that had to come to an end? She did nothing to deserve this. And what did I do to have to go through the pain of mourning someone who was supposed to be with me until the end? We were supposed to grow grey together, laugh in our sixties at old memories of dumb things we did as teens, but thats all she had, her teens. Permanently sixteen, never growing, never changing. She'll never laugh at sixty, or grow grey. She'll always be the young girl, with bright blue eyes and long brown hair, always laughing and smiling. The girl who was taken way too soon. If I am a star, I feel like I'm collapsing in on myself, being destroyed from the inside out until all that's left is a black void, trying to consume everything in its path.

I can't let myself get to that stage. If not for her, then for him. If I were to become a black hole, destroying anything close to me, what would he become? Collateral damage, in the wake of a tragedy that ended up as a massive fucked up game of dominos?

So we keep going. We survive as a promise to each other. We already lost her, we cant lose each other too. We're two broken pieces of a jigsaw that will never be completed, the final piece being lost, but maybe we can heal. Never fully, never forgetting the sun who used to warm our lives, but enough. Enough so we can live, instead of survive. So we can tell stories of the past with smiles instead of tears. When we can look back fondly, remembering her and loving her still, her absence might not always feel like it's slowly killing us both.

We'll never be warm, but maybe we can get some blankets and heaters, and live through the death of our sun. We might not be freezing forever.

Maybe one day, when we grow old and grey, we'll be healed enough to laugh about the past, fondly reminiscing on times long gone, and think 'we had a good life'.

Maybe one day I'll be able to look at the colour violet, or see a butterfly and smile. I'll never forget my best friend. But fuck, this hurts.

Does it ever stop hurting? Can I survive this? As a promise to both of them, I'll try my hardest, I'll live through each day, remembering her, always loving her, but never feeling whole like I did at sixteen. When the other half of my soul was forcibly taken away from me.

Life is cruel, and fate has favourites. I know I'm not one of them, but maybe she'll be kind soon, and let me see her once again.

[blackiraven]

Heyyy, I don't know if you keep writing this but, can I ask for Arkham! Scriddler or Sales! Scriddler Kissing? Love ya writing, makes me happy! <3

Oh, that's so cute! Thank you very much, my dear reader. Of course I can do it. And I think I'll do both to make you doubly happy!🤗💖💖💖

I decided to write a continuation of this story, and the story with Sale! Scriddler I'll post the separately.

For several hours, the only light source in the small room was a couple of monitors turned on. My hands were running around the keyboard and making multiple edits to the dimensional code. The black spots of engine oil had long dried out and were ingrained in the skin, several new small but unpleasant cuts were hastily sealed with plasters. From such constantly relentless work, all the symbols on the keys have long been erased, but I remembered everything by heart. Just a little more and my new mechanism will work perfectly. The old sensors have been replaced, now just need to adjust some parameters and conduct a test again.

Periodically, I pulled away from the computer to arch my petrified back, straighten my hunched shoulders and briefly close my strained eyes.

"Waste of time… I should have finished everything much earlier." I complain to myself and shake my head. A minute's warm-up of the fingers and neck sent invigorating discharges through the nerves, and I immediately returned to work. The loud clacking of the keys gradually acquired a kind of unique rhythm that not every ear is able to catch. The white-green light reached out to me, imperceptibly wrapped around my face and held me in front of the monitors, attracted me to them. The body quickly switched to automatic operation, and all perception and concentration moved to the head and eyes.

Something flashed, but I attributed it to the play of light and the darkness accumulated behind me. Then a pleasant smell tickled my nose, clearly not fitting into the atmosphere of my workshop. It made me distracted, and I saw a bandaged hand carefully put a mug of hot coffee on my table and also slowly returned to the darkness.

"What will become empty if it moves from place to place?" in response, all my work was interrupted by the fact that the chair turned one hundred and eighty degrees with me. The high back blocked out all the weak light and now the thickened darkness was looking at me, in which the rest of the room was drowned. This darkness had a face, or rather, fragments of it. It looked at me reproachfully, it could scare anyone and cause associations only with something unpleasant. But I calmly examined all the noticeable outlines of the bandaged body that was barely standing on its feet. The flimsy and sometimes cracked structure needed a long repair, but the whole problem was hidden in a stubborn head.

"A straw bag." sighing, I rolled my eyes and laid my hands, which had lost the keyboard, on the armrests of the chair.

"I can't just lie and do nothing." but in his voice, fatigue and lingering weakness still slipped through. Crane had been with me for a week after I pulled his body stuffed with wooden fragments out of a cluttered alley. He woke up a couple of days ago and is already giving me no peace. He wanted to immediately leave my hole for his hole, to the laboratory for planning revenge, but at that moment John just collapsed on the floor like a paper figure. Instead of me the opened wounds cruelly onvinced him to stay. Now, when there is even a drop of strength, Crane immediately spends it, hobbles around me, watches my work and occasionally offers his help.

"Think about your biological recovery processes and, preferably, in a supine position. This is the most suitable job for you right now."

"You know what I mean, Edward."

"I know, and I think it's idiotic. Better save my new stitches that I've been working on for hours."

"Is that all?"

"Hmm… no. There's something else. Riddle me this. When can the Scarecrow rest?"

Crane didn't say anything and wasn't even going to think about my riddle. His dull eyes sank even deeper into the bottomless sockets. The hand that was injured because of the broken glove began to tremble, the fingers twitched, twisted, and the bandages barely restrained them. It also brought unbearable pain and John could not hide it. With the help of my foot, I pulled the chair with me closer to him and took his hand. I try to straighten his palm, fingers and restrain him from cramps. The flimsy and exhausted body immediately succumbed to my minimal efforts and clung to me.

"When he's not being pecked by crows." I press his hand, writhing in agony, to my chest. Crane froze and held his breath indefinitely, and I pulled him even closer and unexpectedly to both of us kissed. I just wanted to do it, even though the moment was inappropriate. Something pushed me, someone's invisible call… At that moment, John came to life abruptly, as if it was not a kiss, but a sip from a holy healing spring. The surviving hand rested on my hair, then went down to my cheek and stroked. I lift my head up as much as possible and put myself at his disposal so that he can drink me to the bottom and gain strength. Maybe that's what he needed? Just a kiss instead of annoying care and all the reproaches. Crane's lips grasped mine insatiably, our warming breath then separated for seconds, then merged again into a turbulent current that demolished all the glaciers. He drew out all my vital warmth, wrapping his thin cold fingers around my neck, but I did not resist. I close my eyes and don't let go of the bandaged palm that rested against my heaving chest. Our tongues clashed in a small battle for leadership, but immediately began to succumb to each other. You're so greedy, Crane… so be it, I'll give in to you this time. When he got into the taste, he began to bite and scratch, but it was a kind of flirtation, without blood and serious pain. Broken nails dug into the skin and slowly descended to my collarbone. It was nice. My whole body suddenly went limp, it was getting hot inside. Gentle moans gradually accumulated in my throat and eventually slipped off my reddened and swollen lips. John caught them like an experienced hunter of small birds, and enjoyed his modest prey. It seemed that the darkness was retreating and throwing off its burdensome embrace from the half-dead man. He was getting warmer, softer, alive. An accelerating pulse was felt through the thin wrist, and a pleasant shiver ran through the skin-covered bones. The shreds of parched lips were filled with my moisture, becoming the most tender and sensitive. The consciousness was sinking deep into the abyss of the tortured soul, taking all the feelings with it, but his new movements brought me back.

Crane's strength was leaving him again with great speed, but he continued with all his characteristic stubbornness. At the critical moment, I kept him from falling and almost completely pressed this empty bag of straw to me. Due to John's deteriorating condition, I had to interrupt our prolonged kiss, even though he continued to insist on the opposite. Crane grabbed my shoulders with both hands, and a very bright spark flashed for a second in the impenetrable fog of his eyes. Stubborn, but soft as clay, so it never turns out to make some kind of masterpiece out of it.

"Please go back to bed. You need to rest." holding hollow head, I whisper in his ear.

"Umh… so be it. But when you're done… come to me."

"Dare you set conditions for me? In my place?"

"Of course."

"Then I accept them."

[moxiemaemaple]

Dear Diary, I'm depressed. FR AF.

I am a star in the deep vast emptiness of space. My little hand cultivated solar system always at a threat of being wiped out. Camouflaged blackholes looking to devour me and everything precious whole. There is always a war in my system. Fighting against the pull of a force that is destined to win. What defeats a inky voidless blackhole?

Often I think of blackholes as the main enemy of my existence. They silently invade the reaches of my influence, sucking me in without me even aware. If it had its way I would be sucked deep into its core, devoured and snuffed of my suns light. Never to be seen again.

It feels sticky deep at the core, as if the pull is so great that you wade in pitch black tar. Sinking deeper into nothingness…endless. There is no bottom. There is no sound, there is no sense of positive. Its the definition of black, negative, Yin and I am the Yang it seeks but not in hopes of finding balance, but painting all its knows in dark.

I constantly reach out but my screams are unheard in the deafening vacuum of this space. I drift with it…within it. Trapped. It takes me places I do not wish to be. I have only wondered what peace feels like outside of this, to rotate on my intended axle undisturbed. Inevitably my foe comes back. Tearing more and at my boarders, ripping little meaningless tears. Once there is a thread cut the seams all become lax. I'm not immune to its attacks can only delay its progress of destruction.

I'm in here. Deep in a this pitch. Sometimes I see other light, shooting passed by me. I use to have this dream that one day my twin soul star would come crashing into my system and respark the light that has been burned out. Save me from this...make me feel complete. However every spark that has come crashing in has only caused more chaos, stole my own moons on their way out taking from my collapsing system when its in its most vulnerable state.

As I wallow in this corrupted system I feel the last of my own suns light draining away. Tired of crying for help…tired of sending out my S.O.S. I've become a mere smudge of what is left of me so obscured by the monolithic black octopus that has invaded. It coils around my planets in nothing short of a death crush. Does anyone even see me or am I just viewed as a shaded foggy cloud, the true me obscured and unseen.

I feel the end within. It burns me right up… its endless pain, suffering and I'm gasping on the last of the air I need to keep this flame from dying. Total system collapse, there is no saving me… Don't come near or just be dragged into the same fate. I've become the very thing that consumed me. I drift with it watching as it destroys everything out of my control. I am the chaos. I am the blackhole.

Why am I condemned to this?

Why do I always feel alone in this war?

As the last of the light of my system abandons me here I just surrender. Fighting is too exhausting. My system all gone, and now its just me fighting for mere existence. Can't even feel the swell of my own tears in here. The crush just too great anymore. There is no more of me. Pulverized.

Are you happy now?

Cause I realized something in this pit of endless torment so many have punched me into, my escape has been here the whole time. I wasn't just sucked in here, pushed. Other systems want my light gone. Been working with the blackhole the whole time. Am I even surprised? Those who say they care the most the biggest sabotage of my systems fall.

But I'm a star. How could I forget…you might take everything from me. Strip me of everything I possess, kick me into a endless drop…however when I die I'll go supernova. I'll cause the biggest blaze of light space has seen. Blow away the crushing hole and burn the darkness that consumed me. Take out a massive chunk of this corner of my space and wipe life clean.

Watch me be reborn. I'll never be dead.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Blood

Winter Whumperland: Day 7. Bleeding Out

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man, Spider-Man, Peter Parker

Summary: When you wake up and see an unconscious Peter lying in a pool of blood, you fear the worst. However, this soon becomes a "good news, bad news" situation.

Word Count: 743

TW: Whump, Blood, Gunshot Wounds, Passing Out, Open-ended Ending

Blood. It is the first thing you see as you force your eyes open. Blood is all around you on the ground seeping into the pavement, soaking your clothes, matting your hair. The overwhelming coppery smell of it stings your nose and makes you almost gag. But you can’t escape it. It is everywhere. But where is it coming from?

Shifting your head slightly, you see another person laying in a pool of the same blood a few feet in front of you. You can’t see their face because it is obscured by a red mask with large black eyes but you instantly know who it is.

“Peter!” you gasp. 

Your body is sore and there is a deep throbbing in your chest, but you force yourself up onto your hands and knees. Crawling the short distance between the two of you, you kneel over him and tug his mask off, not caring who might see the identity of the man underneath. 

The feel of the cool night breeze on his face stirs the web-slinger and you sigh in relief when you see his eyes slowly open. Then he surprisingly sits up as if there is nothing wrong despite the blood.

Running your hand across his cheek, you ask, “Are you okay? It looks like you lost a lot of blood.”

His brow furrows in confusion and he quickly pats down his chest and sides. His hands come away dripping blood from the pool he had been lying in, but he shakes his head. “It’s not mine.”

“But then who–” You see Peter’s eyes grow wide, a horrified expression spreading across his face as his eyes lock on your chest. 

Lowering your gaze, your vision swims as you see three bullet holes still gushing blood from the front of your jacket. You had been so worried about Peter that the adrenaline made it so you never even felt them. However, as if seeing it makes it real, all the strength suddenly leaves your body and you collapse forward into his arms. Peter carefully rolls you onto your back and lays your head in his lap. And suddenly, it comes back to you. 

You were investigating a story and apparently crossed paths with some very dangerous people. They grabbed you and took you to the roof of a very tall building. Luckily, heights weren’t a problem for Peter. You managed to call him just before you were taken and he showed up moments after you were led onto the roof. He quickly took care of three of them but the fourth guy had time to pull his gun and fire off a few shots. Peter instinctually dove out of the way, not realizing you were standing right behind him.

You had been near the side of the building so when the bullets slammed into you, they caused you to stumble back and over the edge. Peter dove after you and grabbed you halfway down. But then his web snapped, causing you both to drop over ten feet and roll across the pavement. Which was where you were when you woke up.

You are roused from your memory as you feel a tight pressure on one of the bullet wounds, followed by pressure on another. Glancing down, you watch as Peter finishes by covering the final bullet wound with a thick layer of webbing. The white material slowly starts turning pink then red as more and more blood seeps into it, but it seems to be stopping it from actively bleeding out which is an improvement. Though you have already lost so much blood. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and the edges of your vision have started to turn black as the darkness creeps steadily in. 

Peter notices the way your head droops and your eyes flutter as they struggle to stay open. Cupping your face in his hand, he whispers, “Hey, stay with me. I’m going to get you to help, but you need to hold on, okay?”

You nod weakly even as your eyes drift closed even further. Peter is calling your name but you don’t have the strength to answer him anymore. There is nothing you can do but lay limply in his arms as he gathers you close to his chest and you feel the two of you lift into the air. 

The last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you is Peter begging you, “Hold on.”

[divtanver]

Some random AU idea what appeared in my head while working

Part One: Homecoming

The flash from the explosion of the collapsing structure brought Tails back to his senses, getting up from the iron floor, he rushed to the exit where Sonic was already waiting for him. On tired legs, he approached him and stopped, something prevented him from moving on. Strange pressure from the inside. Looking down, Tails saw a hand plunging into his chest. Light from the pre-exit lamp intensified and reflected the shadow spreading out in a contented grimace.

"I'm sorry, little buddy, but our paths diverge here" Reached clouded by shock mind

Something crunched inside. Vision went dark. The legs gave way and the limp body fell down like a stone. But the expected slap did not reach his ears. Tails continued to fall from the seemingly ledge that appeared under his feet straight into the abyss, accompanied by mocking laughter and a crazy smile. Soon, figure with the heart clenched in his hand went behind the disappearing horizon, taking with him the last dim rays of light.

Betrayed and terrified, Tails was heading into the oldest of the layers of reality. To a place beyond the domain of time and space, where is nothing but emptiness that hides its secrets behind a black canvas, where new visitors have been waiting for so long. However, he was not the only one who was honored to feel the local hospitality, and soon hundreds of souls joined him, some of whom he could even recognize. Their distorted faces begged him for help, but he could do nothing but watch their minds slide into madness. Many eons he spend in this place, knowing its cruel nature, the methods of sadistic enjoyment of its inhabitants. Unbearable torment and despair under the pressure of endless pain turned into hatred and hope that one day he would be able to give the prisoners of this place the long-awaited freedom, become a sword that would slay the creator of this place. Tails needed only one chance, just one cog that would set the whole mechanism in motion...

.

.

.

A lonely wind wandered through the ruined city, with its cold blows it dispersed yellowed news leaflets from time to time through the deserted streets, one of which crashed into a pole stuck to it exposing the text.

TRAGEDY AT EGGPERIAL CITY

Collapse of the Eggman tower takes 63 lives, including recovery member Miles "Tails" Prower and evil genius Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik. Investigation into the causes of this incident is still underway, however, some detectives claim that there is indirect evidence of sabotage, but this has not yet been officially confirmed.

From a slight shaking, a small hole appeared on the road and a newspaper sheet detached from its support and drifted further along the air waves. Meanwhile, barely noticeable cracks began to spread in the asphalt, which eventually grew into one pit from which a black hand, shackled with a broken chain, climbed out of it and grabbed a lamppost and pulled the rest of the body, which red hands grabbed from the hole. From this touch, the lamp began to flicker, revealing a creature coming out of the darkness, woven of smoking stone and small lights instead of eyes. After leaving the crevice, it turned around and tried to pull out a few more, but the wormhole quickly chartered itself by cutting off the half-emerged arm without leaving a trace on the road. Cursing, the creature let go of a stump and began to look around.

It stood at an intersection barely illuminated by the rare rays of the sun, clouds stained with the blood of victims of a new era floated overhead, somewhere behind the dilapidated buildings, an unnaturally blue lightning struck with a bright flash. Lowering its gaze down again, the creature looked at the back of the palm on which the mark of the fugitive was slowly emerging, the fingers were cooling down, which made it increasingly difficult to move them.

"This body won't last long, I need to find a replacement," It thought to itself, closed eyes and pressed finger to temple.

Darkness engulfed everything around, but some time later a broken newspaper vending machine appeared in its borders. Opening eyes, the creature headed towards and began to move his palm over a pile of crumpled papers. The sent signal returned and the hand instantly grabbed the fragment of the sheet that came across.

FAREWELL TO THE HERO

This morning, accompanying procession brought the body of Miles "Tails" Prower to the Alley of Fame for burial, a queue formed at the entrance of those wishing to see the fallen legend for the last time, but several close friends of the deceased were not among them. Conspiracy theorists are speculating about the connection between the incident in the tower and this case.

The path was marked, now reunion is only a matter of time that going away with the warmth.

.

.

.

Among the many tombstones with familiar names, the sight of which evoked unpleasant memories, one marble with a smiling face reflected the figure of an uninvited guest.

Rest in peace Miles "Tails" Prower.

The letters were gray with ash. Without wasting time in vain, the creature began to dig up the grave with its bare paws and, having scribbled on the wooden lid, stopped. Behind the half-open door of the coffin lay the creature's native body. Having thrown the corpse behind its back, it jumped out of the dug hole in one leap and laid the remains on the ground and began to examine them. The body was quite well preserved, only a tear sewn with barely noticeable threads was visible on the chest - a painful reminder of the reason for his rebirth. Kneeling down and putting its hand on the face of the corpse, it closed eyes and, uttering unintelligible words, plunging fingers into the eye sockets. A faded glow began to emanate from the creature, which, swirling in the limbs, passed into the fingers and penetrated into the trembling body. A few minutes later, the light disappeared into the depths of the corpse, the stone creature fully petrified and began to crumble into dust from another puff of wind.

.

.

.

Gloomy stars appeared under Tails' slowly opened eyes, the body resisted rigor mortis and moved its limbs with a crunch in an attempt to stand up, the seams slightly parted and broken ribs could barely be traced through them. The living corpse rose from the frozen ground and, spilling out the loose soil accumulated in its mouth, moved deeper into the dead city towards the answer to its question: "So who you really are, Sonic?".

[clementinefight]

cold summer

My stress this summer is so bad, my neck is permanently stiff. Rigid, nervous, stone. A girl wakes in the middle of the night, she's alone in a deep world of empty houses, and in the dispossessed sleep of her childhood branches have started to grow from her arms, limp orange muddy leaves have overcome her hair, and she is rooting from toes down into floorboards. Nobody to ask a thing, like whether or not her experience of life is normal. So the branches grow, gather, then she is this isolated nature in her isolated bedroom, turned over to a cyclical light of day or night she sees only through gaps in her own weather, and so big with bushiness she can’t get out the manufactured door and enter the wood where, unbeknownst to her, are the others just like her, made of branches and leaves and who have solitary spirits also, though still need their roots to touch the roots of another. Or something. Sometimes, and I’m not proud of this, I look out at the green backyard and I see the peach-juice sun in the sky and I see the invisible breezes of July curling with tendrils of dark flora and it seems not like I'm here, but like I’m watching television, something bright and far away. I forget it’s my day, that I can even go over there and touch if I wanted to, I could even pee on the land like a dog would, if I wanted to, and claim this in some way.

Haven’t swam enough, haven’t walked enough, I’m becoming a little suburbanite cruising around in my dented car, seeing everything through eyes of windshield. The bushes, the houses, the pink sinking light—it’s all over there, and nothing is here but the music. This puts a strange layer of distance between me and summer, me and real things. I will make a point later to stick my toe in some mud – or press my bare hand into black pavement, will the asphalt to deflate like it’s a hot chocolate cake. Wouldn’t you like for the parking lots to liquify and sink below ground every summer, and for the black waves to rock our heat glistened cars around, up towards the marshmallow clouds; or for the greenery to not stop where it stops but extend until it’s like a shag of shining lime hair over the shopping mall, the movie theatre. If you don’t have a car, good for you, stay pure

Something else I’ve noticed — I’m such an impulse buyer. Buying feels close and friendly, like putting on some leather gloves. I would never want to see me at an auction. Stressed, my emotions lift to a crescendo where they then collapse from jitters into an almost hysterical net around my entire body—a pantsuit of stress, and it’s three colours: blue, red and purple, the baby. Feels warm, then cold. Here I either go to the grocery store to buy new condiments, shortbread, or jarred vegetables in brine or oil; or I’ll buy books online.

Today it was books. A small NYRB haul. I guess this is a fairly tame impulse, but I’d really rather be that one who stresses out and goes for a walk, or a swim, or a bike ride, or a scream into their pillow. Instead I just fill my cart, and it’s like filling a hole for a little while. Hate my methods. Look forward to the books. The Liar by Martin A. Hansen (“and for years now Johannes has lived alone”), My Friends by Emmanuel Bove, Machines in the Head by Anna Kavan and The Juniper Tree by Barbara Comyns. I’m drawn to stories with the desperate or resigned thud of loneliness in them; it’s what I relate to most; or maybe it’s not; it’s funny, even when people reach out for connection, I still want to believe it’s being alone I’m most capable of, even made for (I say that in a soldierly way, which makes it even more embarrassing). Björk was in a movie called The Juniper Tree, which was inspired by the Brothers Grimm fairy tale as was the novel by Comyns. Maybe I’ll read that too.

Today I’m in Montreal. I'm visiting my little brother. His balcony looks out onto other nondescript buildings, and he leaves the door wide open while he naps and I work on my laptop out here on the couch; trucks and cars roar a kind of grating metal noise down below, this noise feels prehistoric rather than modern, like out of sight the earth has split under lava and now we are getting not the sight but the noise, the noise. I decide to welcome it. The noise is not a fixed feature of my life anyway, but of his life, in this way it’s easy to welcome. Brief everything. Brief and body me. Bonobo plays on the television, then Seabear, and last night we watched some episodes of King of the Hill—the tornado episode had some beautiful red and green skies. My coffee this morning brought on nausea and I thought I could wave this dislocation off by eating a raisin croissant, but that made it worse, though at least it was good. Now I sit here with a foggy head taking forever to get my work done. EEEEEK

Later going to meet my brother’s girlfriend for the first time over some ramen! Then going to see the 10:15 show Oppenheimer with both of them, all three of us together.

In two weeks I leave for my trip! Ireland, Scotland, London, Iceland!

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Blood

Winter Whumperland: Day 7. Bleeding Out

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man, Spider-Man, Peter Parker

Summary: When you wake up and see an unconscious Peter lying in a pool of blood, you fear the worst. However, this soon becomes a "good news, bad news" situation.

Word Count: 743

TW: Whump, Blood, Gunshot Wounds, Passing Out, Open-ended Ending

Blood. It is the first thing you see as you force your eyes open. Blood is all around you on the ground seeping into the pavement, soaking your clothes, matting your hair. The overwhelming coppery smell of it stings your nose and makes you almost gag. But you can’t escape it. It is everywhere. But where is it coming from?

Shifting your head slightly, you see another person laying in a pool of the same blood a few feet in front of you. You can’t see their face because it is obscured by a red mask with large black eyes but you instantly know who it is.

“Peter!” you gasp. 

Your body is sore and there is a deep throbbing in your chest, but you force yourself up onto your hands and knees. Crawling the short distance between the two of you, you kneel over him and tug his mask off, not caring who might see the identity of the man underneath. 

The feel of the cool night breeze on his face stirs the web-slinger and you sigh in relief when you see his eyes slowly open. Then he surprisingly sits up as if there is nothing wrong despite the blood.

Running your hand across his cheek, you ask, “Are you okay? It looks like you lost a lot of blood.”

His brow furrows in confusion and he quickly pats down his chest and sides. His hands come away dripping blood from the pool he had been lying in, but he shakes his head. “It’s not mine.”

“But then who–” You see Peter’s eyes grow wide, a horrified expression spreading across his face as his eyes lock on your chest. 

Lowering your gaze, your vision swims as you see three bullet holes still gushing blood from the front of your jacket. You had been so worried about Peter that the adrenaline made it so you never even felt them. However, as if seeing it makes it real, all the strength suddenly leaves your body and you collapse forward into his arms. Peter carefully rolls you onto your back and lays your head in his lap. And suddenly, it comes back to you. 

You were investigating a story and apparently crossed paths with some very dangerous people. They grabbed you and took you to the roof of a very tall building. Luckily, heights weren’t a problem for Peter. You managed to call him just before you were taken and he showed up moments after you were led onto the roof. He quickly took care of three of them but the fourth guy had time to pull his gun and fire off a few shots. Peter instinctually dove out of the way, not realizing you were standing right behind him.

You had been near the side of the building so when the bullets slammed into you, they caused you to stumble back and over the edge. Peter dove after you and grabbed you halfway down. But then his web snapped, causing you both to drop over ten feet and roll across the pavement. Which was where you were when you woke up.

You are roused from your memory as you feel a tight pressure on one of the bullet wounds, followed by pressure on another. Glancing down, you watch as Peter finishes by covering the final bullet wound with a thick layer of webbing. The white material slowly starts turning pink then red as more and more blood seeps into it, but it seems to be stopping it from actively bleeding out which is an improvement. Though you have already lost so much blood. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and the edges of your vision have started to turn black as the darkness creeps steadily in. 

Peter notices the way your head droops and your eyes flutter as they struggle to stay open. Cupping your face in his hand, he whispers, “Hey, stay with me. I’m going to get you to help, but you need to hold on, okay?”

You nod weakly even as your eyes drift closed even further. Peter is calling your name but you don’t have the strength to answer him anymore. There is nothing you can do but lay limply in his arms as he gathers you close to his chest and you feel the two of you lift into the air. 

The last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you is Peter begging you, “Hold on.”

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @merlehs, @lanatheawesome, @sunshineflowerchild789, @indig0nebula, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @mournthewicked, @lucyysthings

[flynndesdelca]

For Day 11 (Crossover) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts.

What will become of us now, at the end of time?

We'll be fine, you and I.

Cold concrete.  A coppery taste in her mouth.  Dry, crusty eyes.  Slowly, Chell regained consciousness, only distantly aware of what had just happened.  She'd... defeated... the machine? That's what it had seemed like.  The computer and all of the components attached had been sucked upward, along with her.  She turned her head slightly, the uneven surface of the asphalt scratching her cheek as she did.  There were rather impressive-looking pieces of machinery scattered around the... parking lot? She was in the parking lot.  She'd... gotten out.  She'd escaped.

That thought was enough to force her to get to her feet.  Her body protested, muscles aching and seizing from the effort.  She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but the fatigue from her trials and then the struggle against... well, the large piece of technological rubble had the word GLaDOS stamped on it, so that was likely the acronym for whatever the machine was.  The strange computer that had wanted her dead for whatever reasons it may have had.  She stretched her arms and legs, trying to work out the soreness and the kinks in her body.  The parking lot was deadly quiet, but that made sense. There was now a large gaping hole in it, and random bits of computer had been blasted everywhere.  If there had been any animals nearby, they'd likely fled.

That sounded like a plan, actually.  Staying put seemed like a very bad idea.  She glanced around just in case, but there was no one else there.  No people had come to see what the noise had been.  No other machines, no robots.  Nothing.  Outside of the task of actually making her way out of the place, there didn't seem to be any obstacles.  Once she felt as though her body was cooperating she began to weave and jump her way through the wreck and the debris.    With a sense of finality she ducked under the lowered gate of the parking lot.  The facility was behind her.  She really was free.

For a moment joy burst forth from her and she took off running, not caring about anything.  It felt so good to have the wind on her skin and the ground beneath her feet.  She ran as far and as fast as she could before collapsing to catch her breath.  The grass was prickly, poking up at her from where she laid, but she didn't care.  It was only after she caught her breath and sat up to look around that she started to realize that something might not have been quite right about the world around her.

While the parking lot itself hadn't seemed too badly decayed, what might have passed for a road at one point was practically nonexistent.  In fact, whatever signs of human existence might have been out there no longer seemed to exist either.  Signs, both road signs and directory signs were all gone.  The whole area seemed to be overgrown, as though left to its own devices for a long while.  Apparently no one had been out that way for a very long time.  She glanced up at the sky, hoping to get a sense of how late in the day.  It was overcast, she noticed, the clouds thick and heavy on the horizon.  Or had it just rained? That was a rainbow, but... it wasn't, she realized.  A rainbow arched up across the sky, but this one went the opposite way, arching downwards as though diving towards the ground but pulling up at the last moment.  Distant, hazy, dark thread-like projections seemed to be stretching down from the clouds to the ground.  She wasn't sure what she was looking at, she wasn't even sure she had the right vocabulary for it.  It looked like rain, off in the distance, but somehow she felt that it was wrong somehow, just like the upside-down rainbow and the thin black threads that stained the horizon did.

Hesitantly she decided to continue walking, to see if she could find a city or town or anything.  There had to be something between Aperture and Detroit, after all.  She had set off with high hopes, but after an indeterminate amount of walking she mostly found herself tired.  There didn't seem to be anything as far as she had seen, not even the remains of civilization.  She wasn't even sure if she was walking in the right direction, as there was absolutely no signage or anything.  Just rolling hills and endless fields.  Mossy rocks.  A river that she had decided to follow alongside due to a lack of anything else to guide her.  There was something deceptively relaxing about the whole experience, and she wasn’t sure if she should be completely on edge or totally chill.  She stopped after a while to rest her aching feet in the cold river water.  A nearby bush of weeds looked strong and sturdy, the leaves like long flat paddles, and she plucked a few of the leaves, holding them against the soles of her feet and wrapping the stalks around them to hold them in place in order to create makeshift shoes.  They might not last long but they would be better than nothing.  The water was clear and seemed clean, and she took up a handful to drink.  It tasted delicious, and she cupped both her hands in order to get a bigger drink.  She felt much better for the water, and briefly wished that she had a way to take some with her.  No matter.  As long as she followed the river she'd have something to drink whenever she wanted.

Back to walking.  Cresting a hill she got a glance down into a valley, and stared in disbelief.  There may have been something there once, but now all that remained was a jumble of concrete structures, and a lot of cars.    Staring at the place she felt an odd shudder roll through her, though she couldn't explain it.  There was that rainbow again, hanging low and heavy in the sky, and it definitely did look like it was raining.  Those wispy, stringy black lines were there, stretching down into the ruins, like the dark strings of a marionette controlled by a distant, twisted god.  The green seemed to stop some distance ahead of her, fading into an odd boundary that seemed to flash brown and green in rapid succession.  Curiously she started to edge closer, but stopped when she could actually make out what was happening.  Where the rain wall was, the grass and other plants on the ground were spontaneously dying and sprouting over and over again, as though she was watching a time-lapse video of the life cycle of a plant on repeat.  It was hypnotic but terrifying, and it took a moment for Chell to realize that the rain was slowly drawing closer.  She took a few steps back, but the rain wall was still following.  She turned and started to run, going wide towards the west in the hope of maybe running around the whole downfall.  Was it some kind of acid rain on steroids? The computer - GLaDOS, she corrected - had mentioned that something had happened outside of the facility, something that was apparently beyond even her ability to fathom.  Was... was whatever this was a part of that? Messed-up rain and the seeming removal of the signs of humanity outside of some sort of extant ruin? She slowed to a walk once she had put a bit of distance between her and the rain, keeping an eye on it and adjusting as it moved.

It was still overcast, but it didn't seem like it was getting any darker.  Maybe she had gotten out early enough in the day that it was still afternoon? Somehow that didn't sit right with her.  Maybe it just felt like time was moving more slowly due to the natural air and light.  Whatever adrenaline she was running on now was her own.  It had felt like a great deal of time had already passed, and the ache in her legs and her feet agreed with her.  She'd done a lot more work than simply walking for a long time over the course of her testing, it didn't make sense that only an hour of walking would leave her that sore.  She'd been forced to leave the river behind in her attempt to escape from the rain, so she didn't even have that as an option to relieve the pain temporarily.  She was certain that she was near one of the Great Lakes - Lake Michigan, most likely - which meant that if she continued on this way for a few hours she'd run into Chicago.  Or whatever was left of Chicago, she decided.  She'd been more than certain that there should have been many small towns and cities along the way, but outside of that one ruin she hadn't seen anything else.

After more than a few rests and a lot more walking than she felt comfortable trying to quantify she was very certain that nothing was happening in the sky.  It was cloudy, but the amount of light had not changed in hours.  She'd found the edge of the rain, watching it sweep past her off towards Lake Eerie or Huron and whatever else was over there.  Despite that the clouds above her had not broken.  It didn't even look like the clouds themselves were moving.  Everything was washed in that perpetual,  almost dingy light, as though the sky was filled by something that filtered the light through it, keeping the clouds in the air long past their natural point of existence.

Another large hill, or so she had thought.  The land itself seemed a lot different than she had expected.  She'd have thought that there would be more fields and cultivated areas.  There were so many hills, so many craggy and rocky spots.  She'd thought testing was a good workout, but this was definitely putting her through her paces.  It was a bit of a slog, working her way up the rather steep incline. It was only after she'd crested the hill that she got a scope of just how wrong the world had become in her absence.

She was at the top of a cliff of sorts.  Somehow a chunk of the land had broken away and sunken down, leaving a long and craggy cliff in that area.  From the vantage point she could see quite far away, how far was difficult to say.  Her eyes were drawn immediately to something that should not be.  Cutting across the land, as though it had been gashed open somehow, was a long dark body of what looked like very dark water.  An inland sea? How had such a thing come to be? It stretched out as far as she could see in all directions, northward and southward and westward off to the horizon.  From her vantage point she could pick out bits of what she assumed were the remains of humanity, areas of grey and brown that stood out starkly against the natural colours.  Even further south, farther than she felt she might be able to walk, she could just make out the tops  of what looked like a series of very large spinning wind turbines.  Something intact? Or was it another ruin? There was no way to tell, and she wasn't certain she wanted to take the chance.  She could attempt to keep going and see if anything was left of Chicago, or turn east again and try to find Detroit.  The idea of encountering the rain again made her wary.  After all, if that was what happened to plants, what would it do to living flesh?

It seemed almost surreal that scant hours ago she had been celebrating her escape.  Now, she realized, she should really have listened.  Whatever had happened here, GLaDOS had been keeping the facility safe from it.  Had she been a fool? No, of course not.  The computer had wanted her dead and would not have stopped until she had been gassed.  It had been a matter of survival.  Maybe there had been more information that she could have dug up, or supplies or... anything.  She'd been so hasty to escape that she hadn't considered that some catastrophic event had happened that would have changed the outside world completely.

She sat on the edge of the cliff, staring out at the strange sea, wondering just what to make of what the world had become and what she should do.  Finally she rose to her feet, turning towards the turbines.  While the large cities might exist in some fashion, somehow she felt better about what might be an operation wind farm.  She scanned around hoping to find the river again then started along the edge of the cliff, carefully picking her way along.  Something caught her attention a ways up and she made her way over to it curiously.  It looked like a flat collection of fungi, almost like a mycelium coral.  Above it was floating a variety of small pink insectoids.  Floating, she realized, but not flying, as they didn't have wings.  The whole structure gave her the same feeling that looking at the ruin and distant rainfall had, a cold shudder that made her hands shake.  She reached out, trying to catch one of the insects.  They fled at her swing, but she could feel something squirming in her palm.  When she opened it to inspect her prize, she saw something that reminded her of a very large water bear.  It stared up at her before floating off of her hand and down to the fungal coral to hide.  That must have been some kind of hive.  It hadn't stung her and it had been afraid of her, so clearly they weren't any kind of threat.  Outside of that, though, she hadn't seen or heard any sign of life.  No birds, no insects, no other animals.  Even in the water she hadn't seen any fish or other aquatic creatures.  The world seemed so very empty, even if it was so full of lush and vibrant vegetation.

Having caught her breath she pressed onward.  The ground was sloping downward, and with her eastward leaning she eventually caught sight of the river again.  A more than welcome friend, she splashed her face and took another long drink and sat down on the bank to let her legs dangle in the water.  The soles of her feet were getting roughed up badly from walking, the leaves she'd bound up on her feet having worn out some time ago.  She wasn't sure if she'd be able to get that far like this.  She thought briefly about walking through the riverbank, but it was rather rocky on the bottom so even with the chill of the water to help numb the pain she'd still be hurting her feet.

She reached down to splash her face again.  Once more her thoughts turned to the warning she had taken as an empty threat.  She was hungry but yet she hadn't seen anything that she could eat outside of the occasional nest of those water bear bugs - and while she was hungry she wasn't sure if eating unknown insects would be a good thing or a bad thing.  There was no sense of day or night in the world anymore, just an omnipresent overcast sky with dim lighting at all times.  She hadn't encountered any other ruins yet but she also wasn't sure she wanted to.  Finding out what the rainbows and the dark thread-like lines were was not high on her list of things she particularly wanted to do at the moment.  The edges of the turbines were closer, but still far enough away that she felt a stab of despair.  There was also another cliff, if her view of the turbines was any indication, and one that she'd have to climb down to get to where she was going.  This had been the best choice, she reassured herself.  It was an actual sign of life, rather than the potential promise of life of the cities.  Given that nothing of humanity remained anywhere else, active and functional wind turbines surely meant something.

There was nothing to do but to keep on and carry on.  With a sigh she slowly withdrew her legs from the water once more.  The prospect of what was between her and there was terrifying in a way that what she had faced at Aperture hadn't been.  There had been unknowns and deadly hazards there, but those had all been contained.  She'd found ways to escape, to hide, to avoid here and there.  The tests had been self-contained and easy enough to figure out despite the work involved in their completion.  She'd found signs of life often, guiding directions here and there, and warnings.  Here there was nothing but open wilderness and unknowns that seemed unnaturally harmful, a test that she was not at all interested in engaging.  She began to plod along the river bank, staring ahead of her, focusing on the road - or lack thereof - ahead.

Maybe you were right, she thought to the destroyed computer littering the parking lot that she felt that no one would ever see.  What did Aperture even look like? She hadn't even thought to look.  Had it been a ruin, too? It was too late to go back, now.  Not after she'd covered so much ground.  She could only keep moving forward, and hope that if there was anyone out there, that they'd have some answers for just what had gone on out there.