#pdh katelyn

[awbublie]

wait!!! katelyn practice safe binding!!!! TwT

she practices in her quarters becuz its easier to train in bloomers and a binder

phoenix drop high katelyn cant believe what a bulk can do to her

my first trial below because i used this as an excuse to draw muscular women >.<

i wanted to make her more muscular but i thought that as she isn't exclusively relying on her strength, but instead on her speed and flexibility, she's be a bit more lean but still have strong punching arms and more muscle on her quads

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝟏𝟕: 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍

𝐂𝐖: ptsd and anxiety, hints to reader being malnourished and scarred, descriptions of reader’s hair being cut into a choppy ass pixie cut

𝐀/𝐍: happiness is on the bleak horizon 

𝐖𝐂: 6,100+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: the incredible @arienic! she basically coauthored this chapter so incredibly huge shoutout to my amazing friend ^^

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

Rain patters on the windowpane, the rhythmic tap tap tap of the drops soothing against your ears. You always loved it when it stormed back home. The world always became so quiet when it rained, the pure water washing away the dirt and making the greenery flourish. The rain lilies that would pop up the next day were always so beautiful. You remember studying under your window and…

Wait… window?

Your eyes snap open as your heart begins to speed up uncontrollably, provoking an uncomfortable tightness in your chest. Slowly, you sit up, feeling the firm hospital bed mattress below you. The room you're in is dimly lit, but there’s no blood dried on the sheets, or bars caging you in. No, there's a window on the wall next to you with cards arranged across the sill, and vases filled with flowers alongside them. 

But you aren't safe. You aren't.

Where are you?

When you swallow there’s a horribly unpleasant feeling in your throat, invading your nostrils and restraining your breathing. Reaching up, you feel a plastic tube line that’s been inserted in your nose. With a sense of urgency, you tug on it, the feeling of plastic sliding up your throat making you want to gag. Still, you keep going until you've relieved yourself of the unnatural feeling, then toss it to the side.

“Miss?” A hand lands on your shoulder, clasping against the bone that now forced your skin to stretch over it.

You can’t control the reaction that comes out of you: as pure fear shoots through your veins, so does a scream through your throat; one that tears at your vocal chords and sends you flailing over the edge of the bed. 

“NO! DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

There has to be something you can use to defend yourself—you skitter back on the cold tile, searching the room desperately.

“Code Violet… I repeat, Code Violet—Ma’am, you can’t be in here!”

Water splashes on you as you stumble to your feet, the nearest flower vase clenched tightly in your hands. It reels up behind you as you raise your arm, ready to be thrown. 

“That’s my daughter! Yes I can!”

Your breath immediately catches, a knot twisting in your throat as the familiar voice of your mother echoes against the sterile white walls. It freezes you in your tracks, and through the watery film cast over your eyes, you see her, staring oh-so-desperately at you as a nurse attempts to hold her back.

“…Mommy?”

You’re not sure if your voice comes out loud enough. The childish name had fallen from your lips in a hoarse whisper. But she hears it, and with every ounce of strength she can gather she pushes past the nurse again, plucking the vase right out of your weakened hands and pulling you into her chest.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.” Her words are choked as loud sobs and quick breaths ring loudly in your ears. You're not sure where they're coming from—you can't tell if anyone else is in the room, with your vision so blurry. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Shhh, my sweet girl. Shh…”

Why is she telling you to be quiet?

Oh.

The loud sobbing was coming from you.

A prick in your arm makes you gasp, and it feels as though a large wave crashes over you, gradually forcing your muscles to relax. Your breaths slow and a pain you didn’t realize had been squeezing your lungs slowly dissipates. 

With your mother’s arms still hosting you dearly against her, you turn sluggishly to see the same nurse from before backing away from the two of you with a wary look in her eye, an empty syringe situated between her gloved fingers.

“Ma’am, could you please return your daughter to the bed? She ripped out her IV line; she needs to finish this drip.”

The nurse is at least gentle with her words, this time, gesturing to the hospital bed as she moves back to the other side of the room, giving you both a respectable amount of space. At least four other staff members are standing in the doorway to your room, you realize, but most importantly your dad was pushing through them, eyes glued to you.

“Okay. Come here, sweetheart.” The arms around you lift you up, and like a child, you let them, legs giving in as you’re placed back onto the mattress.

You feel relieved.

Strong, calloused hands of your father gently pull you to lay back down just as a small wave of dizziness swirls your vision. Even now as you lay down, he squeezes your smaller hands in his, a strange mistiness in his eyes you haven't seen before.

You feel suffocated.

There’s too many people, but whatever the nurse gave you in that syringe keeps you from expressing your panic. Your humiliation. Your fear. Why are those other people still in the doorway? You want them to leave.

Still, they stay, and the nurse from before cautiously approaches your side—squeezing beside your mom as she grabs the IV line. You hadn’t even noticed it in your skin, or registered or getting ripped out in your fall.

You feel confused.

But… your parents are here, and they don’t lean back from the woman in scrubs or scorn her. So… she must be safe, right?

“Miss, I am very sorry for startling you. It was my honest mistake for touching you without consent. I deeply apologize,” she starts, lifting a hand over her heart. “I understand you must be very disoriented and scared, but I assure you I won’t harm you, and you are completely safe here. You’re at the Nahakra Hospital. Today's the third of August, and you’ve been unconscious in our care for two days now. Is it alright if I touch your arm to hook the IV line here?”

Her voice is calm and soothing, and while something about her still has you cautious, there’s a warmth in her words that makes you nod. 

“Thank you, miss. It’ll only take a second.” She nods, blue latex taking gentle hold of your arm. “Now, we’re going to have everyone here—including your parents—leave the room so that you can have a moment to process everything and calm down. Is that alright?”

Slowly, you nod again.

The IV is attached again, and after she turns to the panel and makes adjustments you don’t understand, she and your parents—reluctantly—leave the room. You’re left alone, just the pattering of rain left from the crescendo of chaos.

You’re in Nahakra Hospital.

It’s the third of August.

It’s August? You came back from vacation on… July nineteenth. That’s two weeks.

Everything between Then and Now is so patchy. A damp room. Lights that were much too cold and much too bright. Something… blue. And pain. So much pain.

The more you think about it, the more your head spins, and the more the memories slip just past your fingertips. You remember... You remember something. Something important. Very important. Something you had to tell everyone... But what is it?

A deep breath leaves your lips as you start to look around again, now with the knowledge that you at least weren’t in immediate danger. Your throat is sore, you realize, when you glance at an unopened water bottle on the bedside table. You practically jump at it, cracking open the lid and chugging the liquid life. The hoarseness is at least slightly alleviated by the coolness, and it calms you down even more in combination with whatever medicine that nurse had nicked you with.

The flower vase you'd grabbed is back in its spot, the pretty flowers inside now smushed and some even snapped from your mistreatment. A small wave of guilt washes over you as you glance over the window sill. Did people visit and leave you these?

You stand, a bit shakier this time, setting down the empty water bottle and grabbing on the metal of the IV stand. You pull it with you as you walk over to the display, a deep frown on your face. On one of the snapped flowers is a note, with bubbly, cursive handwriting on it.

If I’m not here when you wake up, talk to me as soon as you can. I’m so relieved you’re back, lovely girl!

Much love, Cadenza

You swallow thickly, an indecipherable emotion rolling over you as you reread the words. Holding the note to your chest, you let go of the IV drip and move on to the next note, attached to a stuffed bear.

Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t allowed to come but I had Travis deliver this. Hope I can see you soon.

-Dante

P.S. Gene helped me pick out the bear, so it’s a gift from both of us!

And then you pick up the next.

Here’s a picture of us at prom that I really loved. I thought you might want to have a print of it, maybe. I love you.

<3 Luci

And the next.

I made you cookies but they didn’t let me bring them in for you! I can make them again when you’re feeling better. Or maybe even before you feel better! I really missed you.

Love, Nana

And the next.

I consider you one of my not-alone buddies, even if you and Katelyn thought the title was a little goofy. I’m happy you’re back. :)

-Travis V.

I know we aren’t super close, but you’re still a friend who means a lot to me. Thank you for being so kind to me and everyone. I’m glad you’re okay.

Sincerely, Nicole

I’m sure some things won't be the same when you’re back. Regardless of what happened or what you feel when you see us again, I will always be here for you.

Love, Laurance

I love you so much.  I can’t describe how sorry I am that we couldn’t stop this from happening. But I will always protect you from now on, and I know you’re strong enough to get through this.

Love, Kate

I’m so sorry about everything. I hope you’re okay. I’ll be downstairs every day until you’re awake. As soon as you’re feeling up to it, I want to see you as soon as possible. I left these flowers for you! The pretty pretty dark red ones reminded me of you.

Aphmau <3

You have no idea how hard I cried when I found out you were here. I can’t wait to wrap you in a big hug again when I see you.

Love you dearly, Teony

You mean a lot to everyone, and especially to me. I’ve thought about you every day. I’ll be here for you if you ever need anything.

Vylad

I’m so sorry that I

Please forgive

I’m sorry.

Garroth

Several notes find themselves crumpled and clutched over your heart as your hands tremble. This is real. You were gone, and everyone was worried about you. They wanted you back.

You want to see them.

You remember that you'd wanted to see them again. That they were the light at the top of whatever dark place you were in; the light at the end of your long, dark tunnel.

You glance over to the IV. For a moment, you hesitate, but not even a second later you've pulled it out. It tugs uncomfortably on whatever part was connected to your arm, but you barely flinch at the pain. There’s a small voice in your head telling you that you shouldn’t have done that, but right now you just want to get out of this room. You need to get out of this room.

You’re not sure why you feel the need to be quiet, but the closer you move to the closed door the more your ears ring—a voice whispers: this won't end well. The blocked doorway makes you feel trapped, like you need to break free and run. Your vision locks on the handle, everything else blurring around you as you grasp onto the cold metal.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when the door gives smoothly, opening without even a squeak.

Why were you worried? You’re in a hospital, not a prison.

When you step out, you quickly scan the hallway—thankfully, there’s no nurses around to stop you from leaving. But even still, where are you supposed to find your parents? Were they down in the lobby—wherever that was—or somewhere in another room near you?

Your thoughts are put to a halt when you hear voices chatter around the corner, one of them rising high enough for you to hear before lowering again. They sounded… worried. Angry?

As you inch closer, you’re grateful for the socks you were given; they help silence your steps. The voices become clearer as you reach the end of the hall. The first you hear is an unfamiliar man’s voice, his tone assertive, the sort that commands respect.

“…And just what are we supposed to do about this? We can’t send our son back to that school. What if he’s taken by those psychos, too? That girl is lucky she made it back in one piece!" The man pauses for a moment, then scoffs. "Then again… based on her reaction when she woke up, I'm not sure she did.”

“Enough!” Is that… Garte’s voice? “Fact is that she is back. Alive. That’s what we should be focused on. Besides, we can’t know for sure if she was the one who took her.”

“Who else could it be? You heard what the cops said. She was found near the same exact lodge. Is that just a coincidence? You seriously believe this isn’t exactly what we think it is?”

A heavy silence falls over the group. You lean against the wall, straining your ears to make out every word. Were your parents with them?

“Quiet, Derek. This isn’t helping,” a woman’s voice speaks up coolly. “We need to focus on what to do with the kids now.”

“…Rachel is right.” Sylvanna, too? “And… since we can’t know for sure—”

“We do know for sure. You can't all be ignoring the signs like this.”

“Derek!”

“…We need to think about if it was her,” Sylvanna continues. “Or… Zack. There’s no telling what their next move is, especially if she got away from them too soon. We’re going to have to be extra protective of them.”

“We can’t possibly uproot our babies.” …That’s Zianna. “This is already hard enough on all of them, and there’s no telling what kind of trauma…”

Her voice breaks, and the group is silent again.

“They clearly tracked her down after you both moved back here. There's no guarantee they wouldn't do it again, even if we all moved. We need to keep our kids together, and we have to decide if we’re going to tell them about all of this sooner or later. They need each other, especially now, after all that's happened. Don’t you all think so?”

You swallow. They’re talking about you, you're sure, but you can’t make any sense of it. Do they know who was responsible for what happened? How? Why didn’t they do anything?

Breath caught in your lungs, you lean forward, peeking around the corner. Your parents, Garte, Zianna, Sylvanna, Eric, a white-haired man, and a couple you haven’t seen before are gathered in a circle, all with grave looks on their faces.

“I agree. It’s hard enough moving schools at their age without this whole mess,” your mom speaks up, hand on her forehead, head hung low, “let alone now.”

“So, what? We’re just supposed to sit like ducks in a pond, wait for them to take another one of our kids? And we won't even tell the kids why they're getting targeted? Stalked? Hunted down? No way.” Now that you're seeing everyone in the group, you're able to connect the stern voice from before to a man with dark hair standing closest to… Rachel? His face and outfit matched his voice: harsh. Corporate. Authoritarian, and demanding of respect. “Aaron won’t be staying anywhere near that high school or your kids.”

“Listen, as many issues as I have with your son making moves on my daughter, pulling him out of this is too harsh,” Sylvanna snaps, pointing at him. “How is sending him off going to help anything?”

“Excuse me?” The man’s nostrils flare in annoyance. "At least he won't be lined up with the rest of your kids, waiting for his turn to get whisked away and experimented on."

“Enough,” the white-haired man says, his voice cutting across the conversation. He looks… directly at you. Something about his gaze pierced through you and was distant at the same time, like something familiar and far off was looking through his eyes instead of him. It sends a shockwave of paralyzing fear through you, and you can’t bring yourself to hide from his sight. “We have an eavesdropper.”

All nine adults are now looking at you, and you can’t help but flinch as you’re discovered.

“Oh, sweetie,” Zianna calls, her voice delicate. “It’s okay. Come here.”

You know these people. You know them. Yet your steps are hesitant as you approach them, a heavy sense of unease slowing you. They all look… horrified as their eyes stay locked on your form. It definitely didn’t help the sick feeling in your gut.

“It’s okay, mija,” Sylvanna reassures when you pause, walking closer to you and holding her hand out.

You stare at it—her small, tanned hand oh-so-familiar and comforting in your cold, white surroundings. Reaching out, you place your hand in hers, letting her pull you closer to their group. 

“Oh…” Zianna gasps lightly, reaching up to touch your hair. Her fingers feel strange against your scalp, and you realize it’s because the longer length that used to be there now only grows a couple of inches from your head. 

As her hands gently move down to your wrist, you turn your attention to the rest of the group; your parents start hovering close to your side.

“…What were you all talking about?” you ask, ignoring their fussing as you look each one in the eye. They all startle, a mix of guilt and upset written all over their faces. When neither Sylvanna nor Zianna say anything, you look to your parents for answers. It takes a few moments for you to realize that you won't be getting any; they only walk to your side to pull you under their arms.

Why are you getting nothing but silence? They know more about something awful that happened to you that you can’t even remember! Resent builds in your chest when you’re met with nothing but pitiful eyes. 

“Excuse me.” A woman announces herself quite suddenly, making you jump in place.

You turn to see a tall, blonde cop, her hair tied back in a tight bun. Her face is kind, but stern—it's clear she takes her job seriously. A younger-looking man stands next to her, who, from the look of it, likely works under her.

“I’m sorry for interrupting this talk, but we heard she was awake and wanted to ask some questions to help close out the missing person's file, if that’s alright?” she says to your parents shortly, before glancing over to you. “My name is Detective Azura from the Phoenix Drop Police Department, and with me is my colleague, Detective Gale.”

“I don’t know if now is the best time. She’s barely awake…” your mom says, turning to look at you with a deep frown on her face.

You glance around the group. They should be the ones answering the questions, shouldn’t they? Clearly, they knew more than you did.

“...It’s okay. I don’t mind,” you say quietly. “I don’t know how much I can tell you, though. Everything is kind of… gone.”

“That’s alright. Whatever you're able to recall would be more than enough.” Detective Azura nods, giving you a polite smile. “Would you like to do this in a room, for privacy?”

The offer makes your heart rate spike, and you quickly shake your head. “No, I can answer them here…”

“Okay, that’s fine, too.” She pulls out a notepad. “So, what can you tell us? Do you think you could begin by telling us what you were doing before the incident?”

You swallow, looking down at the lines between the tiles, tracing each outline as you attempt to pull anything.

“I… had just gotten back from a trip with my friends, and wanted to walk home to take a shower and get some things from my house."

“And—sorry to interrupt—you were at Ms. Salome’s house at this point, correct?”

You nod, and she gestures for you to continue. “I felt like something was off, but I shook it off because I thought I was just paranoid. And then—” You suck in a breath. Suddenly, talking isn't as easy as you thought it would be. “I saw the black SUV and started freaking out. I tried rushing—running to my house, but a woman was standing in my way.”

“And what did this woman look like?”

“It was too dark, but…” you trail off, thinking back to that moment. The memory is so hazy, so far away, but you remember the rough asphalt digging into your skin as you looked up at the silhouette of the woman above you; a head of blue hair hanging over her shadowed face. “...Her hair was blue.”

“Blue hair? You’re sure of that?”

“...Yeah. The street lamp was shining on it. It was light blue.”

Either the air surrounding the group shifts, or you’re imagining the eyes of the parents darting at each other in… panic? Fear? 

Detective Azula quickly scribbles something onto her notepad. “Okay, I see. But you don’t remember any other details about this woman? How about where you were held?”

The more you try to think past that point (your cheek, scraping against the pavement; your limbs, impossibly heavy), the more the thickness in your throat grows. Like the fog over your memories is filled with poison, stinging your hands any time you reach in.

After a deep breath, you start again. “I only remember… everything hurting… and I think I was in a room with bars, but…" You exhale sharply, reaching up to massage your temple. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I don't know, it’s—it's all blurry.”

Your head hurts.

“I see. Can you recall anything else?”

“I don’t think I can… I just remember there was something very important I needed to tell everyone, but—” you look down, “—I can’t remember what it was.”

“No worries, miss. It’s quite common for people in missing cases like yourself to block off traumatic experiences,” Gale speaks up.

You nod, eyebrows pinching as you look at the white tiles under your feet, missing the harsh glares the man receives from the group of adults behind you.

Detective Azura clears her throat. “We won’t bother you anymore about it, miss. If you ever do remember something in the future, please contact us. We want to prioritize your safety and the safety of anyone else who could get involved in this case, especially as your kidnappers are still at large.”

But… the adults around you know more! Why weren’t they saying anything? How are you supposed to figure out what happened if you don’t even know how you got here?

“Thank you for your time. We’ll be leaving, now.” Detective Azura nods, then spins on her heel and gestures for Detective Gale to follow.

“Wait!” you call out. “Could you tell me who found me? I… I want to thank them.”

She looks back at you. “It was a couple who found you. I’ll let them know you’d like to speak with them and send their number to your parents if they want to talk.”

“...Okay. Thank you.”

Once the detectives have rounded the corner, a silence settles over the group, and the man with silvery white hair from before steps forward, holding his hand out to you. His hair color might've aged someone else by a few years, but it didn't seem to affect this man at all. If anything, he looked pretty young; it's possible that he's one of the younger men in this group, even if only by a couple of years.

“Hi, there.” He offers a smile, the curve of it strangely familiar. “I’m Terry Valkrum, Travis’s dad. We’re both glad that you’re back. It’s nice to meet you.”

While you shake his hand, it's hard for you to return the smile or the greeting. This is just too weird.

“Yes, excuse us for not introducing ourselves earlier.” The dark-haired woman you didn’t recognize earlier leans forward, a hand curled delicately over her stern-looking husband’s arm. “I’m Rachel Lycan, and this is my husband, Derek. We’re old friends of your parents. It’s good to see you safe, though I'd hoped to meet under better circumstances.”

Lycan? As in… Aaron Lycan’s parents?

“...What are you all doing here?”

“Well, they wanted to see if you were alright. And your friends did, too,” your mom begins, her hands gentle on your shoulders. “We're all just trying to figure things out.”

You step away from her, brushing her hands off your shoulders. “Didn't sound like anything needed figuring out—not when you were talking like you knew all about what happened to me.”

Your mom's hands hang in the air for a moment before she tries moving closer to you, hurt flashing across her face. “Baby—”

“Excuse me! You aren’t supposed to be out of your room,” a nurse calls from the end of the hall. “You still need to finish your IV drip and get a check-up!”

☆

Your eyes droop as you stare blankly at the TV screen. It's been hours since you were escorted back to your room, and then poked and prodded at by three different doctors and several nurses. Between the anger you felt towards the adults and the bouts of anxiety you felt any time another doctor came in—well, it wasn’t long before your energy had been depleted once again. It seems three whole days of sleep can only do so much for you.

One of the doctors who'd come to see you was a psychiatrist, who—despite your reluctance—was a lot more helpful than the others you’d talked to.

“...showcase symptoms of retrograde dissociative amnesia, with your difficulty recalling memories about the incident. You also exhibit signs of PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Neither are directly curable, but treatments and a good support system go a long way.

Of course, getting better will take time, patience, and keeping on top of the meds I’m going to prescribe you. The good thing is that if you keep up these meetings with me and a therapist, your symptoms will become much easier to manage. In fact, it's possible for symptoms of PTSD to fade away. At least to the point where they won't affect your daily life…”

The corny drama movie characters were fighting about something on screen in a language you couldn’t even understand. The volume was low, and you hadn’t even bothered to turn on the subtitles; the drone of their voices and trying to guess what was happening had provided you with more entertainment and distraction than anything else that could be offered in this room.

“No! Shh…”

Your eyes snap towards the door, muffled voices making themselves known on the other side.

“You’re… literally going… us caught!”

“Just… in, stupid!”

You flinch back when the door is practically thrown off its hinges, the faces of familiar teenagers toppling over one another to get a look at you. Aphmau is the first to rush forward, and she doesn't seem to care about sneaking around when she yelps your name. You sit up just in time for her to throw herself onto the bed with you, pulling you into a tight hug.

Her hands are impossibly gentle over your shoulders, like she's almost afraid of hurting you, but then at the same time her arms are wrapped just as impossibly tightly around you—like she's almost afraid of losing you. For a moment, it's only Aphmau hugging you. Then someone else's arms wrap around your back, and another pair around your legs. Cheeks rest against your skin; feeling your pulse, hearing you breathe. It's almost too much, but you can’t bring any complaint to leave your lips, eyes drifting shut and taking in this warmth, this peace. Quiet hitches from in-between people's cries interrupt the delicate silence. 

This whole time, even the faces that have been familiar to you your entire life—your mom, your dad—have given you a sense of unease. You're still disoriented, still unsteady. But this... it was right. 

You trust them. 

You pull away to look across the group. There's Aphmau, clutching onto your hand as you pull away; Zane, standing in the middle of the room; Travis and Vylad leaning in from the foot of the bed; Garroth, looking down at the floor with furrowed brows. 

You know them.

But then, as you're about to call Garroth over, you see her. She's there—she's there. To your farthest right, caught in your peripheral: a pale face, waves of light blue hair, and those piercing features—so, so piercing—as she hovers over you, stretches a hand out to your face—

Your breath catches. You flinch back, hard.

But you blink, and it's not her—it never was. It's only Katelyn. And after you jerk away from your best friend's touch, her face twists in hurt. In concern. In hesitation. In desperation. It twists with the crushed hope that you would return the sentiment of sisterly love overflowing from her fingertips. 

It's only Katelyn. Just your best friend, Katelyn. And just like how you know the rest of them, you know her.

“...Are you okay?” she whispers, hand hovering over your shoulder, afraid of being rejected  again.

You swallow, then reach out to grasp her hand in your clammy one. “I think so.”

The group watches you intently as you take a moment to look over them all. They wore comfortable clothes; clearly, they’d been waiting around here for a while.

“I mean… I can’t exactly answer that yet,” you murmur after a moment. “I feel okay now, but I'm kinda tense. It’s just hard to explain because I don’t—I can't remember what happened, or what I’m supposed to be feeling upset about. It’s just… there.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself,” Vylad assures you, glancing between everyone else before giving you a soft smile. “We'll understand, no matter what you do or don’t say. We’re just glad you’re back with us.”

How is it that the kids your age are less demanding than the adults?

“Yeah, we really wanted to see you so we kinda snuck in,” Travis adds. “But if you want us to leave, we can.”

You shake your head at that. Though you aren't sure of your exact feelings right now, one thing you are sure of is that you want them to stay. 

The silence that follows lasts almost long enough to be awkward before Aphmau speaks up again.

“What do you want to do when you get back?” Aphmau asks, scooting closer to you.

What to look forward to? The quick and rather abrupt change of subject was obvious, but you still send her a grateful look.

“Take a long shower,” you say quietly. “And I want to see everyone else, too, I think.”

“We could all hang out at one of our houses, maybe!” she suggests, and Katelyn is quick to nod along. “When you’re ready, of course.” Travis and Vylad nod as well.

Everyone's heads snap towards the doorway, however, when the door's pushed open and a doctor steps in—and immediately gapes at the sight of your friends scattered around the room. “You kids aren’t supposed to be in here. How did you even…?” he trails off expectantly. When no one offers up an answer, though, he shakes his head.

“Never mind,” he sighs, stepping all the way into the room to reveal your parents standing quietly in the hallway. “All of your tests went well and future appointments are set. You are now free to go home. Now if all of you would give her some privacy to change back into her own clothes, please.”

Reluctantly, everyone stands, save for Garroth, who lingers by your side. He hasn’t said a word until now, but with the way his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, you can see he wants to.

“Sir,” the doctor calls by the door, the poor man likely exhausted from everyone—including you—refusing to follow instructions.

“Just one second, please,” he calls back, fingers digging into the bed sheets anxiously.

The doctor glances over at you, dark brows furrowing as he searches for your consent. You nod, and he relents with a sigh, shaking his head and closing the door on you both. Silence falls over the room as you slowly look back at the blond.

His mouth twists as he stares down at your hands, shoulders slouched under some invisible weight. With his hair unkempt and his eyes red and swollen—from what you assume to be a lack of sleep and an inordinate number of tears—he's a far cry from the Prince Charming you’d met on your first day of school. You can practically see the crown falling from his head as his lips wobble, the usually bright color of his irises misting over in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“...What?” you breathe, confused.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks as he leans forward and drops his head into his hands, “that I didn’t go with you. If I did—”

“Stop.”

You're both surprised by the power in your voice. The pure conviction, the wholehearted belief: that he was wrong. Slowly, Garroth looks back up at you, eyebrows pulled together as he swallows thickly.

“Even if you'd gone with me, who's to say it wouldn't have happened anyway? You might’ve even gotten hurt trying to help me.” You reach out to grab his hand. “I don’t remember much, but I know that’s true. Not a thing about this was your fault.”

“It was—”

“No. It wasn’t. How could you even think that?”

He closes his eyes. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again and closes again. He's left to purse his lips, unable to come up with a good enough response. All this guilt, this blame, with nowhere to put it. He seems confused by your response, like this wasn't the reaction he’d thought up in his self-deprecation. Had he let this guilty turmoil brew in his head? Blamed himself for the entire two weeks you were gone? The dark circles under his eyes say enough of an answer, and it’s not one you like.

“How are you not mad at me?” he whispers. “You could be. You should be.”

“Because you’re one of my closest friends. And this was something that was going to happen eventually.” You lean forward, pulling him into your arms. Strong shoulders tremble and shake, and the boy cannot hide the sniffles and choked breaths as he breaks down. “How could I be mad at someone who wants to protect me so much? Seems counterintuitive.”

He shakes his head, tucking it over your shoulder, and in one quick motion reaches out, returning your hug desperately. His arms curl tightly over your back; his fingers crumple the fabric of your hospital gown; his tears wet your neck, a rare show of vulnerability even from him, who doesn't shy away from expressing his emotions at all.

Oh, Garroth. Sweet Garroth.

“Hey. I’m back and alive and you’re crying?” You poke his side, attempting to lighten his guilty shoulders with a tease. “You could at least pretend you’re happy, you know.”

Quiet, breathy laughter hits your shoulder, his trembling shoulders switching from shaking with tears to shaking with amusement. After a moment, he pulls away, hands coming to rest on your shoulders as he sucks in a sharp breath, you assume to control what must be an intense storm of anxiousness piled up in his chest.

“I am happy.” His eyes search yours.

You smile at him the best you can. “Then I am, too.”

Garroth gives you a shaky smile of his own.“Hey, I…” He pauses, looking off. “I overheard some things about what happened to you. When the doctors were talking to your parents…" He frowns, shaking his head. "Maybe it should wait until you’re feeling better.”

“What is it?” you breathe.

There’s a knock before the door's pushed open, the doctor from before peeking in. “Mr. Ro’meave, was it? Please, you can continue this conversation later.”

Garroth gives you a last, tentative smile. "...I'll tell you later."

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz

[creeky-cricket]

Rainy days

End of the school day it was pouring it down, Garroth, Katelyn and Laurance rush to Laurance's shitty old car to take cover.

[moonlit-escape]

🫐❤️‍🔥 Katelyn appreciation post !!

she's a theater kid

she's a sucker for sappy, heartfelt cute things

even though she's always serious and cool and collected, she's also easily excitable if you know what buttons to push

she would fight anyone for her friends. including her friends

she's actually pretty good with kids

i mean of course she is, she grew up looking after and setting an example for 3 (5? is it 5 or 3 now) younger brothers

her favourite movie is the goofy movie. how can you not love this woman

she's a wildly realistic character

she has secretly low self-esteem and clear abandonment issues, but she's trying to work through them for the ones she cares about

she can come off cold and uncaring, but it's only as way for her to offset her fiery personality

she's highly competitive as a way to combat her feelings of self-doubt, but she still always plays fair

she feels her responsibilities and faults deeply, and has a tendency to distance herself or shift them away from her when things go wrong. but she's learning that it's okay for her to make mistakes

she loves to brag about her friends and siblings

she plays off embarrassment pretty well ngl

she's stage and camera shy and she wants to be seen as sweet and easy-going

she needs to be put in a suit like the queer little queen she is.

[l4uranc3zv4h1s-bf444]

I’ve been trying to get back in the habit of drawing more that being said I want to draw Katelyn and garroth at prom bc they’re such an underrated duo and everyone forgets that they went to prom together

[shuublebunny]

Aphmau and Aaron from my PDH rewrite (I will be rewriting PDH through MyS, so you’ll probably be getting college and MyS redesigns at some point too!)

[panons]

[m00nbuggies]

oughgh

[vylad-romeave-5]

[mangotelevision]

Jo9 simple backstories and power overviews

There's not a lot we know about the jury so all of this is very headcannon-y for warning. Some of this might clash with cannon so I'm leaning for this to be more so a part of my rewrite.

Zane Ro’meave (unofficial title: Zane the Undying)

Deemed leader of the Jury of Nine by Lorde Garte, his father, and instead of choosing a ninth guard for his squad he declared himself as worthy enough for the position. Still remains the ninth member of the Jury of Nine to this day and refuses to choose another as he believes one could not wield the power like he does, also refuses to take an official Jury title, feels as though it is beneath him and people should fear his name and his name alone.

Zane was never a guard, never took the oath and never trained as one, took the Jury Leader position per his fathers request after he finished his studies and became the High Priest of O'khasis. He has no knowledge or skill in weapons of any sort, physically he is weak, he uses others to accomplish the things he wants, his conviction and manipulation is his greatest advantage.

Has had the gift of foresight since he was a child, a magic that allows him to read people's thoughts and see fractions of moments of the future. He believes his powers come from the heavens and the stars, that he has a divine right to rule because of his power. He receives something akin to prophecies of the future, vague visions of what will come to pass, these visions have never been wrong- and he cannot change anything no matter how hard he tries. So he desires to seek out a magic that can, something that will provide him with the strength to alter fate.

(He can’t read Aphmau's mind and she has changed a future Zane saw, it was small and minute but it changed, she did something that resulted in his vision being wrong. Zane is never wrong. This is why he is so enamored with her, why he wants her dead- because she’s stronger than him, because she can change fate. It is a power he wants so desperately and if he can’t have it then no one can.)

Janus the Silver Death

Most everything about him is unknown, he is an enigma wrapped in a mystery. He hides behind his helm, and the only person to ever see under the mask and live to tell of it is Zane. Janus is thought to be an elf in some form, no one knows if he’s a full elf or half and he never answers when asked. He is the oldest member of the Jury, no one remembers how long he’s been there, and rumor has it that he’s been protecting the Lords of O'khasis for centuries. It is unclear if he was a guard or not before his Jury position.

Janus wields twin broadswords, one frost and one fire. Expert fighter, no one has ever seen him lose a fight. Although more often than not he relies on his Jury abilities. He is a necromancer of sorts, he possesses the ability to bring back those that his enemies have slain- the more people his opponent has killed, the harder they’ll fall.

It is unknown if he has powers that exist beyond those gifted to him through the Jury.

Katelyn the Fire Fist

Katelyn was sent to the Guard Academy after an “incident” per Lord Garte’s orders. No one is quite sure where she came from or what this incident was but it's largely thought to have been of a violent nature, something bloodied and bruised, although her early life is largely a mystery and she changes the story each time she’s asked. She was exceptional at the academy, a prodigy in combat, but after many disciplinary actions and detentions, Katelyn was expelled due to “excessive violence” and declared unfit to be a Guard. Was placed in the Jury Reserves, where she stayed until a member of the Jury had a more than suspicious death and she rose the ranks per Lord Garte’s orders. She stands as the youngest appointed Juror in recorded Ru’an.

Specializes in hand to hand combat and wields weighted adamantine gauntlets brazened with wyvern claws. Katelyn has magic that exists outside of her Jury powers, she’s a half-witch with a blood magic known as dragon's fire, which gives her the ability to use the fire of a wyvern while being virtually fireproof herself. She is not a traditional witch and cannot be taught any other spells or enchantments, all spells cast from her hands will always fail.

Her Jury power is that of absolute agility, possessing limitless agility, with her balance, bodily coordination, speed, reflexes and strength transcending virtually all other beings. With this power, time moves far slower to Katelyn and she has the endurance to keep it up for prolonged periods of time- no one has ever outpaced her in a fight.

Has a quick temper and doesn't work well with others, easily angered and her fire often burns too hot for her own good, oftentimes more than a little too eager to start a fight.

Lillian the Phantom Sword

Raised in Nahakara Village alongside her cousin Ivy, Lillian became a guard through traditional means. She went to the guard academy when she became of age and excelled in her studies, graduated top of her class and made high Jury List. Served as a guard in her home of Nahakara Village, where she remained second in command until Ivy finished her own guard training.

Lillian became cursed by unknown means while exploring the enchanted forest with Ivy, resulting in her reflection gaining a consciousness and a life of her own. Hears her reflection talking to her, telling her to kill and destroy, overall not good things. She ignored it for as long as she could before eventually stepping down as head guard to seek out someone who could help. She finds Zane, who's idea of helping is bringing the reflection to the physical world and combining the real Lillian with the reflection. The two can switch fronts at will, but the reflection is always in charge, she is always in control in the back of Lillian's mind talking and telling her what to do. Lillian is but a vessel for her reflection.

She wields a simple guards sword without her shield, believing it to be too bulky in combat. Lillian is an expert level swordsman, the above average guard will not win, fighting with her is often thought to resemble a dance with her graceful movements. Her Jury power is that of illusions, she can conjure things out of shadow and mist, make people see things that aren't there. Her powers are significantly stronger and her illusions far more believable when her reflection is casting them.

The reflection is forever grateful to Zane for freeing her and giving her the control and strength over a physical body, she'll obey his every order, she is indebted to him. The reflection of Lillian is his most loyal guard.

Ivy the Venom Scythe

Raised by her cousin Lillian's parents in Naharaka Village, Ivy never cared to be a guard, she was content with her own devices, researching and experimenting with her poisons and potions. Ivy was always in and out of trouble, always some misfortunate adventure she roped Lillian into, who more often than not got them out of said trouble. She joined the guard academy after much convincing from her cousin, her havoc showed no mercy to the school and although she graduated on the Jury List it was not without a few official warnings on her record.

Joined the ranks as a guard of Naharaka with her cousin, was difficult to work with and a shitty guard, always skipping patrol to continue with her experiments. Lillian was more often than not the one who got in trouble for Ivy’s disservice to the guard code, she was the one who encouraged her to be something she’s not after all. Was formally reprimanded and assigned her second strike to her guard record after being caught lacing her sword with poison. After Lillian was cursed and fled from her duties, Ivy left also and joined the Jury Reserves in O'khasis where she was assigned to a Jurors Team and allowed to experiment with her poisons and venoms as she saw fit. Was later appointed to the Jury through traditional means after a member stepped down.

She wields a large poison laced scythe, leaning very far into her self-assigned grim reaper motif. Her Jury powers are similar to a curse, she has the ability to take the life force of anything she touches, her body acts as a poison and she can spread that poison to others. This has an effect on anything living, ranging from plants to animals she can turn anything to dust and bones. She possesses immunity to all poisons, venoms and toxins and has a vast and incomprehensible knowledge on anything relating to such topics.

Ivy’s a wild card, someone Zane can’t easily control. They don't exactly see eye to eye but Ivy is here for a good time not a long time so she’ll do whatever he asks of her as long as it’s not boring.

Jeffory the Golden Heart

Became a member of the Jury through traditional means. Went to the guard academy to learn to protect others, excellent guard, the Golden Boy of the academy in the years he attended, perfect record and perfect marks, graduated early and managed to land a spot on the Jury list. Went back to guard his home in Skysted before transferring to O’khasis per Garte’s request, became head guard and general of the O’khasis military after a few years of service.

He's a brave soldier, loyal and kind hearted. His devotion to those he loves and the people he has to protect knows no bounds. Jeffory is the people's soldier, everyone adores him, the Golden Boy of O’khasis. After one of the Jury of Nine stood down to retire, Jeffory was given the mantle.

Fights with a very untrational choice of weapon, and his mastery of the glaive is something short of a marvel. He’s a flashy fighter, eager to show his skills and yet he is kind all the while. His Jury powers are simple and often overlooked, he possesses the ability of imprisonment, allowing him to create a barrier that can capture and imprison humans, creatures, anything, with little hope or no chance to escape. (functions similarly to the golden lasso from the original series) Although he uses this as more of a pocket realm, like a mythical handbag to store things in. He has no magic or other powers outside of his Juror title.

Knows that the Jury is corrupt and he worries he’s starting to become just like the others, he fears the day he’ll be just as bloodthirsty, just as power hungry. He’s concerned that the Jeffory that he has become has lost his heart of gold, and it scares him.

Ivan the Hallowed

Warlock hailing from a small mountain village, Ivan got into a lot of trouble with his magic as a kid, always felt as though he had to prove something, as if the world owed him a great debt. The Village sent him away to train as a guard in an attempt to keep him out of trouble and his head out of his magic books, believing they knew what was best for him. Ivan wasn’t a particularly great guard, unpopular and unskilled in the protecting front, but he seemed to make up for it with his fighting. After his training he was assigned to the Village of Pikoro, where he continued with his magic studies- the village was often known for its distast and distrust of magic, he was exiled shortly after his arrival.

Was offered the position of Jury member by Zane, even without making the Jury List post graduation. The High Priest was enamored with his ability to cast complicated spells, he had seen nothing quite like it, he wanted to study it, cultivate it as his own. Ivan’s magic is strong, impressively so. One of the brightest spell casters Ru’an has seen in centuries, although his magic is volatile and unstable: this instability seems to be his driving force, his bragging point as his spells don’t have to adhere to the normal laws of magic.

He seemed to have gained no excess powers after obtaining the title of Juror. He’s the most recent addition, so he feels like he has something to prove that makes him dangerous. Doesn’t take orders well and tends to do his own thing. Zane only keeps Ivan around out of his usefulness, once it has expired it’s not unlikely Ivan will as well.

Ein the Beast Slayer

Abandoned and taken in by a tribe of werewolves, Ein was raised and trained by the creatures of the moon as one of their own. Until a violent incident with a rival pack resulted in his adoptive family banishing him, afraid of his strength. They feared that which was stronger than them, the things they couldn't control. He joined the guard academy, he held the vengeful desire to become stronger. Graduating with decorated honors and a position fairly high on the Jury list, he took a position in a Village close to his old home. Early into his guard career, Ein slaughtered the werewolves from his pack, the ones that took him in as their own, raised him, betrayed him. He made them understand true strength, gave them a real reason to fear him. He now wears the skull and fur of the alpha werewolf.

Ein went on to kill nearly hundreds of werewolves, bringing their population to such a decline it caught the attention of The High Priest, Zane Ro’meave. Zane heard of his deeds and sought him out, mysteriously, a member of the Jury resigned and Ein took their place.

His Jury powers are a curse, it’s a blood beastman curse that allows him the ability to shapeshift into any animal that he’s consumed the blood of. It is unknown if this trick will work for humans. His weapon of choice is a battle ax, although he often prefers to do Zane's dirty work as one of the beasts in his collection. Ein loves the chase, he lives for the kill.

Teony the Bright Blade

Became a member of the Jury through traditional means, raised in the village of BrightPort Teony joined the Guard Academy and excelled in her studies. Often referred to as the brightest mind of her generation. Graduated with high honors, Jury List and signed to the Jury Reserves, where she swore her allegiance to the O'khasis Guard. Served as second in command of the O’khasis Military, until becoming a member of the Jury of Nine alongside Jeffory the Golden Heart, the two were given their titles during the same ceremony.

Teony has immense skill over any and all weapons, she has a mastery of the craft of fighting.

Her Jury power is a summons- she can conjure weapons, knights, animals, most anything she needs out of light. These beings hold no physical form in the hands of others, weapons will disappear if she is not the wielder and the animals will vanish if they are cut through.

No one outside of the Jury has ever bested her in a battle of skill, she is the expert amongst experts, specialist in all weapons and can summon any of her choosing to wield. She is noble and strong, like Jeffory she is a true guard, her loyalty knows no bounds. And similarly, she often fears she is doing the wrong thing, helping the wrong people. Her oath to the Guard code outweighs her oath to Lord Garte, her nobility will always come first, her duty is to save people and protect, where there is darkness she shall be the light. Just like Jeffory, her heart of gold will be her downfall.

[moochachoco]

More mystreet posting .. moots i fear i’m reverting to my old 2017 Aphmau fan account ways plz forgive me………

Anyways .. Ik that Garroth was canonically aware of his charm and was known to be very charismatic + outgoing, but idk!! I think it’d be cute if during his middle school + first few years of high school, he was socially awkward kinda like his MCD counterpart 😭 Like that’s one of the only traits that carried over from his MCD self

I also like to think that Katelyn (since they were friends in PDH iirc) and Laurance kinda helped him get out of his shell and become more confident !

Imagining freshman Garroth feeling super flustered from all the attention he was getting from other people at his school, all while Katelyn and Laurance are watching and giggling & then tease him about it later 💀💀

I don’t think he’d be like.. PDH Travis and Aphmau kind of shy, though. They were the type of shy where they stuttered pretty often and kinda like tripped over their words, or they would mumble, but I don’t see Garroth ever being like that. I think it’s just like… he’s a little awkward? He knows how to speak to people a little bit, I just imagine he’d get a little nervous when carrying on a conversation and then kinda shy away after a while & that he doesn’t really know how handle A LOT of positive attention from a lot of people around his age OR people older than him

Literally it’s like :

The girls at school compliment his appearance and his voice -> Garroth: “Haha (awkward)… Thank you… (the attention makes his palms sweaty + the attention is making him uncomfortable, so he tries to leave)”

Teachers compliment him in front of all his classmates -> Garroth: “Thanks… (awkward + uncomfortable w/ the attention from both his teacher and his peers, so he just looks down at his textbook until he thinks it’s okay to look back up again)”

Then imagining Laurance helping him become less shy.. helping him talk to people (girls, in particular) and learning how to make friends easier, giving him advice .., telling Garroth that he’s naturally charming and endearing, so people will like him a lot , saying that even he would fall for Garroth because he’s “pretty good looking” and “a really sweet guy”, And Garroth gets EXTREMELYYY flustered after hearing that .. (Avg. Garroth response: “Ah… Haha… Thank you, man. It – um… It means a lot. 🙂 (awkward smile that looks pained a little bit kinda)” -> Laurance response: “😭 You gotta get better at taking compliments, man!”

Omg … Katelyn also giving him advice, but she mainly helped by getting him on the baseball team ! She heard that he was interested and introduced him to the captain and the team members.. and she helps him talk to them, so he could make more friends !! I can imagine her sitting on the bleachers and watching Garroth fail at conversing and literally just being like “There is no way.” So, she has to step in and help him 💀

Also imagining in my head that Garroth goes home everyday and practices so he could impress Katelyn and Laurance. And then literally rehearsing what he’ll say to people a bunch of times in his head before he actually talks to them.

I think by the time he got to Senior year he mostly grew out of being shy, but sometimes he still has his moments 😭

And then, later when they’re all actually Living on Mystreet, when they’re all hanging out -> Katelyn is like: “Oh my Irene, do you remember how awkward Garroth was during, like, the first year or two of high school??” -> Laurance:“Oh wait! Yeah! Wow… who would’ve thought he would’ve turned out like this?” -> and all Garroth can do is laugh awkwardly while they reminisce and tease him abt it 💀💀💀💀

i have so many more garroth headcanons in my brain like omg .. the blond cube guy from the Minecraft roleplay I liked when I was like 12 is taking over my brain yet again……….

[awbublie]

oh phoenix drop high my beloved

I was a heavy believer of zanmau back in the day...

yeah this isnt canon, but I WANT IT TO BE

so listen :3

aph has choppy SHORTER micro bangs and generally has a more unkempt look. shes been holed in her room for so long, you think shes going to remember to being lotion with her everywhere? not to mention how to upkeep her makeup?? that being said smudgy eyeliner for THE BOTH OF THEM.

I need zane to be the weezy kid that brings his inhaler everywhere and mumbles the wrong answer in class.

loser core

they hangout under the bleachers and play ponies together. thats it. and he might have a crush on her. HE HAS ALOT OF THINGS GOING RN ITS HARD TO PINPOINT WHAT THIS FEELING IS! she feels more like shes babysitting.

LUCINDA AND KATELYN

okay so your telling me they stopped being friends bc they were fighting for a guy???

EEEEEHHHH WRONG !!!!

they fought bc they both panicked and picked him as a failsafe crush and their feelings both got hurt!!!

out of pride they both stood their ground on why they deserved the guy, basically one upping why the other SHOULDNT be with him.

you see where im going here?

anyways they miss eachother dearly!!

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝟏𝟔: 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐖: um... more violence and mentions of traumatic injuries, cussing but like how offensive is that in comparison to the other stuff at this point

𝐀/𝐍: oh snap it’s going down (intense traumatic experiences)

𝐖𝐂: 4,600+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: the one, the onlyyyy @arienic !!! *blows airhorn*

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

laughter carries through the air, the mix of everyone’s joyous voices in the room warming your chest the same way your hot chocolate warmed your hands. you settle back into the ro'meaves’ couch, the worn-in material allowing you to sink into the cushions where you were lodged between lucinda and dante. 

“okay!” aphmau squeals, clapping her hands excitedly in the center of the room. “it’s time to exchange the secret santa gifts!”

you’re perfectly content where you sit, though, with a soft smile on your face as you glance around the room. everyone was bundled up in their sweaters and cozy pajamas, excitedly getting up to give and receive their gifts and giggling as they bumped into each other. oh, you suppose you should get up when lucinda’s hand grasps onto your arm to help you along with her, the mature scent of her perfume wafting along your face and the tinkling of her bracelets pleasantly gracing your ears.

“c’mon, sweetie. you can’t fall asleep now,” she coos playfully.

“i wasn’t! just enjoying the moment,” you defend, only earning a teasing look from her in response before she prances off with an amused huff.

you shake your head, chuckling quietly to yourself as you pick up vylad’s gift, shuffling around the crowd and earning a hair ruffle from dante and a nose pinch from teony as you go, the two of them being the touchiest of your friends as always. not that you minded—coming from anyone in this room. you kind of enjoyed that you were close enough to them for them to want to casually reach out to you in a sudden burst of affection. it was cute.

vylad immediately turns to look down at you with a dimpled grin as you hold out your gift, giving you a grateful nod. “hey! merry christmas.”

“merry christmas,” you return, shuffling on your feet as he starts to open his gift, starting to feel a bit nervous if he’d like it.

his face lights up as he opens the box, mouth cracking open in surprise as he reaches in, pulling out the 35mm camera film bundle you got. “woah, there’s so much! and a calligraphy set too?”

“yeah… sorry i didn’t get as much film because it can get kind of expensive… but i thought i’d get you something you’d use the most.”

“no, no, don’t apologize. this is perfect!” he insists, his voice full of genuine thankfulness. “how did you even know i liked all of this? or what kind of camera i had?”

“i totally interrogated your mom about what kind of camera you had. shout out to zianna,” you laugh. “i remember you talking about liking photography and how you liked to write, so…”

“wow. i’m not secretive but i didn’t realize i was that easy to read,” he muses, wrapping an arm around your shoulder for a hug. “you really put a lot of thought and effort into this, i can tell. this is so awesome.”

“aw, i’m really glad you liked it.” you sheepishly return the hug before stepping back again.

“i more than like it, i love it. thanks!”

a gentle tap on your shoulder diverts your attention from the heartfelt scene you were in. nana gives you a sweet smile when you turn to her, her eyes forming into crescents as she presents a rather large pink gift bag with a cute snowman on it.

“hi! i was your secret santa,” she giggles as if it weren’t obvious.

“oh! thank you, nana.” you smile, taking the bag from her as she bounces expectantly on her toes.

“go ahead and open it!” she ushers, tail swishing behind her, the tiny jingle bell on the bow she used to decorate it tinkling.

you laugh lightly as you appease her demands, pulling out the tissue paper to reveal quite an array of gifts.

“so, i remember you mentioning you thought the cookie cutters i had were super cute when we were making those sweets for everyone… so i got you some! and—and those are some earrings that reminded me of you, and—oh! that’s a blanket with kitties on it,” she rambles, pointing out each thing with a shimmer in her eyes. “that’s a cute journal i got for you because we had talked about how you wanted to start writing down your favorite memories so you never forgot them. remember?”

“wow, nana. you didn’t have to get all this for me…” you murmur, mouth agape as you admire the hardcover journal in your favorite color, its pages glinting gold around the edge.

“of course i did! you were one of the first people to actually care about me and try to become my friend at the school.” she rocks on her heels, hands folding behind her back. “you mean a lot to me, so i wanted your gift to be special.”

pulling in a big breath, you swallow thickly, overwhelmed by the affection poured onto you. your friends’ laughter buzzes in your ears as you reel in the moment, eyes wide. “thank you, so much… you mean a lot to me, too.”

“but, um…” she murmurs your name, face turning gravely serious. “i have to tell you something.”

strange. this isn’t how you remember this going.

“if you want to come back to us, you have to wake up.”

“…what?”

“wake up.”

a sharp inhale through your lungs pulls a veil of darkness over your eyes, replaced by a gray ceiling. there’s no warm laughter, no welcoming fireplace; just the cold, damp room you’ve been forced into for who knows how long now. your fingers dance across the thin sheets, chasing after the ghost of warm hands encasing yours, only to be met with the scratchy material irritating your skin.

your neck hurts; externally as you reach up to feel a crusted-over bandage, and internally as a lump forms inside. vision blurs and fingers tremble as a pathetic sob wracks your chest, the choked noise of pain echoing in the empty room. turning on your side, you gasp for air, your breaths tight and panicked. you can move again, you realize, but when you attempt to sit up and stand your body gives out on you and sends you sprawling onto the hard tile floor. using what little strength you have, you use your arms to drag yourself to the bars of your cell, grasping the bars and resting your cheek on the rusted metal.

tears pour down your face while your chest heaves unevenly, soaking into the gauze on your neck and staining your dirtied clothes. weakly, you lift your hand again, realizing through your hazy eyes how thin and pale you’d gotten. you’d been fully drained, your body pulling whatever it could from your muscles and bones just to keep your heart beating. more cries leave your lips as you reach up to your neck once again, tugging at its tight constraints with an angry cry. as it loosens with an uncomfortable crack from your skin a wave of fear washes over you, freezing you in place.

what if your head fell?

short breaths are sucked in through your mouth as you try not to move, slowly loosening the bandages again until they finally give free, unraveling onto your lap. you stay still for a few moments, staring at the dark red below you, before reaching up to feel where the blade had been lined against your neck. there it is: an indent, perfectly horizontal, reaching across where your jugular was.

she must not have completely beheaded you. if she did, would you not have woken up?

a feeling of utter hopelessness creeps into your veins starting from your hands and feet until it spills out in the form of more tears, a piteous weep leaving your lips. none of this makes sense to you. not the pain… not anything she said about your parents… or the man… or men behind it…? she mentioned two, didn’t she? no, no that’s not what she said…

not what she said about…

not what she said…

no.

what exactly did she tell you?

why can’t you remember it?!

there was something important! information you had to keep if you got out of here! what is it?!

“what happened…” you hiccup, lungs catching and stopping, breaths hiccuping. “what did you…”

your fingers dig into the metal, pressing uncomfortably into your bones as you manage some strength in your lungs and scream at him, “what did you do to me?!”

the muscles in your throat strain in protest, cracking your words as they echo in the empty corridor. raspy coughs leave your throat as your remaining strength gives out and you go limp where you sit. it’s a few minutes like this—maybe even an hour—before quiet footsteps slowly make their way toward your cell. you don’t bother looking up, only acknowledging who it is when someone kneels down by the door. black jeans, a dark blue shirt… it matches his hair.

he watches you from the side of his eye as he sets down a tray, sliding it under the door. when he moves to get up again, he hesitates, as if there's something he needs to say.

“please kill me,” you rasp, making him jump as he whips his head over to you, his eyes darting down to your fingers where they grasp onto his wrist. “just kill me. i can’t do it again.”

he gives you a look, eyes widening and lip curling. you can’t tell what it is. pity? disgust?

this is the first time you've really looked at him up close. a few scars litter his skin, his steel gray eyes startlingly harsh through his dark lashes. his nostrils flare as he pulls away from your touch, standing and backing away as he looks down on your miserable slumped form.

“i can’t,” he mutters. “but… i wouldn’t bite into your food too hard.”

you stare up at him, confusion muddling your features.

“and wait until dusk. that’s two hours from now.”

he turns on his heel and stalks away, glancing back at you once more over his back before quickly running back up the wooden staircase, leaving you alone as fast as he had appeared.

don’t bite into your food too hard.

the tray is by your feet, nothing but a pile of mush on it. you’re not sure what kind of food it’s supposed to be, but it most definitely wasn’t crunchy or solid. shakily, you reach out to the tray and pull it into your lap, hesitantly hovering your fingers over it.

what are you doing…

wriggling your fingers down into the semi-warm substance, they soon meet the cold center where a metal object is buried inside. your eyebrows pinch together when you pull it out, shaking the food away to reveal a… key. did he just…?

he gave you the key to the cell. he’s helping you escape.

two hours from now.

“thank you,” you whisper to the void, even if you know the boy is long gone.

would he be punished for this? a part of you worries for him, but the selfish want for self-preservation has those thoughts pushed to the back of your mind, replaced by the memory of warm arms around your shoulders. you had to get back. this wasn’t the end. you didn’t have to die here. a joyful weep wobbles from your lips, as you begin to count the seconds. how many are in two hours?

one mississippi… two mississippi…three…

eight hundred and thirty-three…

five thousand six hundred and twenty-seven…

seven thousand two hundred.

you had eaten the plate of food to the best of your abilities, despite its bland taste and rather disgusting texture. it was like southern grits, but if it were slimy and void of any good flavor. still, you stomached it, and it at least gave you the strength to stand up on your legs without falling. your breathing was labored from the effort, but you had to do this, and you had to do it now.

nimbly sliding your fingers through the door’s bars, you fix the key into the lock and twist, a satisfying click meeting your ears as the door gives way to your weight leaning on it. it squeaks in the silent hallway, and for a moment you stand completely still as it swings all the way open. 

you were free.

run. run run run run run run!

you take off towards the wooden stairs, careful to keep on your tiptoes, sliding your feet across the stone to make less noise as you go. slowing down at the wooden stairs, you’re careful to make a minimal amount of creaks as you ascend them, holding your breath as you listen closely to the floor above. there’s no talking, no shuffling or movement. did they go somewhere else?

at the top of the stairs, there's a wooden door. quiet prayers for it to be unlocked leave your lips as you approach it, and you have to stop yourself from letting out a cry of relief when it is, opening up to a dimly lit, huge room. 

you were in a log cabin, though a mansion seems more suitable as a title. tall windows span up to the ceiling on one wall, overlooking a familiar scene of a forest. plush couches and red carpets littered the large space, setting up what was an over-the-top lounge room.

tentatively, you walk out from the doorway, looking up to realize it was somewhat hidden behind a staircase. the place seemed empty, but you sure weren’t going to stick around to find out. the only thing you can hear is your uneven breaths as you make your way to two large red doors, hands shaking as you push the heavy wood open. the sound of crickets beginning to chirp and fresh air enveloping your face is overwhelming, making your shaky steps stutter in place as you stare out at the tall trees ahead.

looking around, the coast is still clear. was what ein told you a red herring? this seemed too easy. running out to the empty driveway, you step beyond the pavement toward a nearby cliffside, looking over the forest beyond. there was nothing else in sight for miles, except for…

a tall lookout tower in the distance.

your face blanches, and the small amount of nutrients you had in your stomach comes rushing back up your throat in an instant. they were that close to you the whole time.

sputtered coughs leave your lips as you lean forward, hands resting on your knees while black spots your vision. what if they were just letting you go now? have you never been in control this whole time? not since the moment you moved? since the moment you were born? is there any point in escaping this?

there’s no time to delay anymore though, not when you’re taking off again towards the driveway, cutting into the treeline where you’re sure the road led off to. your lungs burn as they try to keep up with your legs, your throat barely taking in enough oxygen for you to stay conscious. you feel like you’re out of your body, merely spectating a memory as you weave through trees. your face feels cold and numb, and you vaguely feel the pain of your bare feet getting scraped and stabbed by the forest floor. black is beginning to spot your vision and the next moment your toe catches on a root, sending you tumbling down a steep hill with a sudden cry.

rolling to a stop, you gasp for air, yet none comes as panic continues to riddle your lungs.

“...you mean a lot to me…”

it feels like warm hands are lifting you, urging you to keep going, and as you stumble forward you realize you’ve made it to the road. warm asphalt meets your feet as you continue to try and catch your breath. the sun had set by now, disorienting any sense of direction you may have had in the first place.

as soon as your vision clears, you’re blinded by headlights and the screeching of rubber against the road—

you're sent flying, your hands painfully scraping as you land on your back. it feels like you’re dying, lungs on the verge of collapsing. even if it was your captors, you don’t think you could run or even crawl away, the stars in the sky beginning to spin and melt above you and the noise of the world around you turning into warbled echoes.

“oh my… is that… missing… girl that… gene… with.” a woman appears above you. you can’t make out her features. “holy shit… logan! call… help! …hospital…!”

“help,” you gasp. in a last attempt at freedom, you grasp onto her shirt.

“shh… you’re… okay, hun… safe…”

a tall man looming over the both of you is the last thing you see. strong arms lift you from the jagged ground; the bitter, metallic scent of your blood is the last thing you sense before the terrifying freedom of darkness overtakes you.

☆

over a week. it’s almost been two.

garroth stares blankly at the empty fireplace, stuck in the same position he’d sat in hours ago. he chews at the inside of his cheek again, wincing when he draws blood this time. 

there's no telling where you are now or what’s happened to you. and it's all his fault. if he’d just walked with you down the sidewalk. it was two houses down. only two. that careless decision took you from him and everyone else who cared about you.

when you come back… if you do… he wouldn’t blame you if you hated him. if you never wanted to talk to him again, or even look at him. he deserved your resentfulness. he wouldn’t even mind it if it just meant you were back safe.

“hello?” zianna’s voice carries from the kitchen, her tone indicating she’d picked up a phone call. 

vylad shifts from where he sat on the other side of the couch, turning down the volume of the tv that had been playing mindless background noise to his and garroth’s thoughts. his head turns to better hear their mother’s voice, only to flinch when the shattering of porcelain on the floor and a sharp gasp from the woman breaks the silence.

“where is she?”

garroth swallows, eyes widening before shooting up from his spot, sprinting into the kitchen and nearly crashing into the counter. he's gripping onto the marble top as he stares down his mom—the woman leaning back into the corner with a face void of color. her sweet, green eyes are glossy with tears, hand reaching out to zane whose eye flicks between her and the shattered plate in concern. for once, he looks to his two brothers without malice or annoyance, instead holding zianna’s hand with care as he leans in to overhear the other end of the line.

“and she’s okay?” she whimpers, shaking her head as she looks around, attempting to move. “where? where?”

garroth sucks in air, only just realizing he’d been holding his breath before rushing to his mom, lifting her over the shards threatening to slice her bare feet. she dashes over to snatch her keys up from the hallway table, sliding her feet into some sandals by the door—before stopping in the doorway, and turning to face her sons once again.

“i’m headed there now.”

as soon as the phone is pulled away from her face, questions hastily tumble from their mouths.

“she?”

“did they find her?”

“where are you going?”

she covers her mouth, pulling in a deep breath in an attempt to pull herself together in front of the kids. they were only kids. she was only a kid.

“yes—she—” she clears her throat, wiping at her bare face. “they found her. she’s in a hospital an hour from here. i’m headed there now—”

“i’m going!” garroth interrupts, startling the woman and making her jump in place.

“yes… all of you can come. i’m not even—” she waves them forward, pausing by the mirror and beginning to fix her hair—before shaking her head, footsteps quick as she goes off to the garage door. “just get in the car, boys. i need to call garte…”

all three of the boys follow, the youngest boy pulling out his phone and sending off a text as they scramble for their seats in the suv. zianna’s hands tremble as she starts the key in the ignition.

vylad: they found her.

laurance: wait what?

katelyn: please don’t tell me you’re lying

lucinda: is she okay?

travis: where???

nicole: which hospital???????

dante: are you serious? did they find her just now?

aphmau: she’s at nahakra hospital

teony: can we see her?

laurance: i don’t care i’m going anyway

nana: i’m crying please tell me she’s okay

aphmau: i don’t know there’s no details yet

katelyn: i’m going too

aphmau sent a location.

“mom.” zane’s voice cuts across the near-silent car. “it’s night. you’re driving crazy.”

zianna clears her throat as she slows down, and when garroth glances over she quickly wipes her face again, shaking her head. “i’m sorry boys, i’m just—oh, that poor baby. please, please let her be okay.”

the drive there is a long one, both having stretched on for far too long and blurring together in garroth’s memory as they now sit in the small hospital’s lobby.

“we can’t go see her at all?” sylvanna presses. the poor receptionist who they'd been badgering for the past hour shifts in her seat.

“i’m sorry, ma'am. all i can tell you is that she is alive and stable. but i can’t give you details or let you through unless you’re family.”

“she is family.”

“...i’m sorry. please understand i can’t do anything more until a doctor gives the clear. you can take a seat and have some refreshments until then.”

katelyn sighs, shifting as she glances at the analog clock above her. nana and aphmau let their heads bobble against her shoulders as she moves, hands clutched onto each other, exchanging words of worry that didn’t leave their lips.

12:40 am.

“no, man. they’re not even letting us see her,” laurance mutters into the phone, sighing tensely. “yeah, just come tomorrow if you want… yeah, i’ll text. yeah. bye.”

“was that dante?” aphmau shifts her head, voice quiet.

“yeah. his mom won’t drive him this late and he was trying to get… gene to come back from out of town to get him here.” his lips sour at the name, but he seems too tired to dwell on his own reservations. “...i think teony and lucinda won’t be coming until tomorrow, too.”

“makes sense…” nana rubs her swollen eyes, her nose still red. “the only reason i could come is 'cause aphmau picked me up.”

travis is uncharacteristically quiet, eyes round and knees hugged to his chest as he stares at the adults in the room.

following travis' line of sight, garroth glances over at the receptionist's desk. even his dad was here… his arm wrapped around zianna’s hunched shoulders as they exchanged hushed whispers with travis’s dad and… two people he’d never met before. aphmau had said something about aaron’s parents earlier, seeming confused herself, but why would they be here? or travis’s dad, for that matter… and what could the group of them possibly have so much to talk about so secretly and with such intensity?

“...fuck this. i’m finding something out,” he mutters, earning a questioning look from laurance as he stands from his seat, slowly making his way to the stairway and slipping through the door, thankful for sylvanna’s distraction to the staff.

they mentioned that you're in a room on the third floor. his feet skip every other step as he huffs his way up the flights, stopping at the thin window and glancing inside with narrowed eyes. the coast is clear, so, after catching his breath, he pushes through the door, glancing around the hall. he can hear distant chatter around the corner, and recognizes the familiar cadence of your mom’s voice. a pang of guilt and shame runs through him, his eyes dropping to the tiled floor as he moves closer, listening to her despaired, hitched breaths.

“...yes ma’am. torn ligaments in her feet, a fractured wrist, pretty deep fissures on her whole body… it’s all healed. the stitches pushed out of her skin. i really have no way to explain this except for an ancient magic that hasn’t been used by anyone for a long time. this kind of practice would be…” the doctor clears his throat, pausing. “ah, but… aside from her external injuries, our biggest issue is what came back on her brain scan… and her blood results.”

“what is it?” a gruff voice urges.

“she had large amounts of midazolam in her system. it’s a sedative that can cause some serious issues with hallucinations and memory recollection if abused. judging by the scan, it seems like she had a pretty consistent flow of it, but there’s also not enough information to tell how much she's been affected by it, and how much damage it's done.”

garroth’s mouth curls, hand coming to cover his face as the blood drains from his face.

“and…” the doctor seems to be choosing his words carefully, voice gentle. “there's more. not only was she given large amounts of midazolam, but her brain shows signs that we would see in a person who went through something highly traumatizing. it’s likely she will suffer from dissociative amnesia among other ptsd symptoms. i can’t tell you how she will react when she wakes up, as it varies among each patient… but she will require a lot of psychiatric help. i don’t mean to make this worse, but this is the worst case i’ve ever seen.”

bile rises up garroth’s throat, and he’s forced to swallow as he slides down the sterile, white wall of the hospital hall. another choked weep leaves your mother’s lips, but not before the doctor speaks up again.

“but also…” he hesitates. “while her other injuries mysteriously have been healed, she has strange scarring on the upper half of her arms and legs, as well as a scar along her neck. they’re very precise. it's a quality that, in my personal opinion, one would expect from an experienced doctor… and when she arrived, the outfit she was wearing was a patient’s two-piece with the number three on it. we don’t have much other information as of yet.”

“oh god… this is all our… fault…” your mother incoherently babbles. “my baby… what have i done to you…”

“ma’am…?” the doctor sounds uncomfortable, confused. “i don’t…”

“please just leave us be for a moment.” your dad’s voice cracks.

a quick tap on garroth’s shoulder has the boy jumping out of his skin, whipping his head up to see the scolding face of a nurse peering down at him.

“young man… you know you aren’t supposed to be here,” she says, voice firm but eyes at the very least understanding as she keeps her voice at a whisper. “go back to the waiting room. you’ll get to see her eventually. okay?”

garroth swipes a hand over the back of his neck, the cold sweat making him shiver as he stands. his eyes are glassed over as he nods, stumbling back to the stairwell without another word.

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch @izzybella1807

[maelihi]

Phoenix Drop Uniforms

i saw someone else talk about this though i don’t totally remember who it was.

the phoenix drop high uniforms are mostly shades of various blues, with gray also mixed in. the design isn’t like bad or whatever, but i feel like reds and yellows would be more appealing and would make more sense?

i mean it’s called phoenix drop. phoenixes are associated with fire, which i personally associate with shades of red, orange and yellow, possibly also black due to obsidian and i think it would compliment nicely.

like a black shirt and pull over, red skirt, red tie/bow. i feel like would make more sense. and say the gym uniforms are yellow or orange, alone with team uniforms.

i just feel blue isn’t the most fitting color, and i love the black/red/orange/yellow combo.

like this in a way, with obviously some changes but i like the more covery, realistic version.

[moonlit-escape]

Aphmau: guys i like beer now Garroth: ????? Aphmau: it has a real nice kick to it Katelyn: are you fr rn Aphmau: and its spicy afterwards like a wellmade curry Teony: did you fr drink beer Aphmau: yes! Aphmau: ginger beer

[toadsartblog]

started rewatching aphverse series, started with pdh💕