#people are always asking me this. sorry for being sickly pale having an intense light sensitivity being unable to fall asleep before

[dunmeshiminimumwage]

[falloutjay]

Stan x anxious/compassionate reader (kind of has a little canon divergence)

After giving up on Wendy (around Season 12), Stan and us start dating, we were always worried about him (no we weren't dating him out of pity, we were just a very anxious person). Some people find of clingy, others find us adorable but We've never left his side:

Ex: We were by his side helping with whales (Whale W)

We were the only one who didn't leave him when he got depression (You're Getting Old/Ass Burgers)

Next to Heidi, we became social pariah because we didn't want to dump Stan (this even made Wendy guilty)

But him moving, really gets to us, the coronavirus makes it worse. We get worried about him, then we start getting worried about everyone else as everything falls apart (Kyle, Kenny, Eric, Butters, Tweek, Craig, Scott, etc.) And we pass out of stress. About waking up in the hospital, we find out, everyone was worried about us. And Stan is the most worried of all, he spends the whole day with us. We tal-no vent about all the happened to the both of us. By the end of it, we agree that whatever happens we'll do it together.

Guess whos back! :D

Well, while it's not my best work, in my humble opinion, I sure hope you enjoy and like it. Again sorry for the delay! ಥ_ಥ

And if it's not that clear, because I know I can write a little cryptic, there is a time skip. You can either have all the show events happen when they are children and have the time skip between Covid and the memories or between you getting together as kids and the memories. Choose however you like! ^^

_________________________________________

Stan x anxious!compassionate!Reader

Tiny eyes watched the scene unfold.

Normally, Wendy was the one to break up with Stan, but not this time around. Stan was actually telling Wendy that he had no interest in her anymore.

“What changed Stan?” Wendy asked, obviously confused.

“I think I like someone else… I don’t know yet…”

Wendy gave him a smile.

“I wish you all the luck Stan, say if you need anything!”

“I will.” And with that, Wendy took off to be with her friends, while Stan turned a corner and told Kyle and Kenny how it went.

Cartman was there too, but he only wanted to know if she cried, because “she would deserve it.”.

You closed your locker and felt your heartbeat like crazy. Ever since you changed school a few months ago, Stan captured your little ten-year-old mind.

He was kind and showed you around when you had no idea where to go. It was a little crush you developed, and you never felt as scared and excited as now, since that Stan had broken off with Wendy.

This newfound feeling almost made you dizzy but you quickly snapped back into reality when you heard your name.

“Y/N?” Stan asked and waited patiently for his answer next to you.

“Oh, sorry, I was thinking, what did you want?”

“Would you maybe like to hang out some time?”

Stan almost got a heart attack when you suddenly squealed but was happy when you managed to get a high-pitched “YES!” out.

“Okay, what are you betting Kenny? Some Pennies or a dead rat?” Cartman almost fell from his chair laughing about his shitty joke, while Kyle and Kenny rolled their eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how clingy they are?” Kyle asked his blonde friend, while they kept watching you and Stan, who were seated at a separate table at lunch.

“Honestly, I think it’s pretty cute.” Kenny said with his muffled voice.

You held his arm and hugged him from the side, while he happy kept on eating his lunch.

Eric, who had now calmed down from his laugh attack eyed the couple critically. “I’m giving them a month max.”

He said lazily and looked around. “I say longer than a year.” Kenny said, throwing a crinkled five-dollar note on the table.

“You two are horrible.” Kyle shook his head before he threw 10 dollars on the table.

“Four months.”

Kenny was a happy man after a year, because despite everyone believing you two would eventually break up, you never did.

You were always by his side, no matter what.

His desire to desperately save whales with the help of a braindead ship crew?

You were always right by his in the interviews he gave.

His horrible depression that even drove Kyle away? No chance, you stood strong and helped him through the whole thing and even help reuniting the gang.

Even during the protest against Skanthunt42, you chose to sit this one out, despite you absolutely hating that the troll photoshopped a dick into your mother’s mouth.

At least you and Heidi got close due to you guys both becoming social outcasts. When Wendy heard this, she was impressed by your dedication and felt somewhat guilty for obviously not trying as much in her former relationship.

Everyone admired your patience and endurance. No matter what obstacle came, you managed to get through it.

“You don’t need to be sad, Y/N. I won't be that far away.” Stan said, holding your hand.

“B-But it's outside of town. You need ages by bike to get there and vice versa.” You said, holding back tears.

Randy walked past you and you desperately pleaded to him.

“Please Mister Marsh, please stay in town!” Randy put the box he carried into the car, before turning to you.

“Real sorry, dear Y/N. This town is…How do I put it… Absolute shit and I really want to get away.”

He patted you on the head and went back into the house to get more boxes.

“Told you, you cant talk to him.” Stan said and shrugged.

“But it’s unfair. We won’t see each other as much anymore.” Stan pressed a kiss onto your cheek, which made you blush intensely.

“Don’t. Worry. I will make time for you.”

With that in mind, you didn’t feel as sad, when the car with the Marsh Family in it left for their new home.

“I will make time for you, my ass.” You mumbled while you sat at a bench near Starks Pond. Letting out a deep sigh, you leaned back and just enjoyed the warmth of the setting sun.

Covid was one hell of a bitch and just had to have this big impact on everyone’s life. Stan and you now saw each other less and less.

It was just a horrible feeling that tainted your heart and made you worry a lot.

Maybe he was feeling just as bad as you are, maybe even more?

Maybe he just didn’t want to tell you how he felt?

Were you maybe a bad partner? Your mind began racing and your train of thoughts became unrailed.

So many bad thoughts manifested themselves and it made you almost gasp for air.

“I need to check on him.” You mumbled getting up from the park bench.

You began walking and you kind of hoped that maybe just the walking would get your mind in check, but sadly it didn’t. Involuntarily you had to think about all the other stuff that happened during this horrible time.

The precious Broship was more fragile than ever. You had become such good friends with Kenny, Kyle and Cartman over time that it hurt you a lot too.

You also saw Covid take a toll on your other friends, like Craig and his group, who now took Cartman into their gang after the split up.

However, that came to be…

The girls were also pretty divided, so hanging out with them meant picking sides which wasn’t your thing, you kinda just want them to get along again.

Everything felt like it was falling apart. Your parents had fights ever so often, all your friends had problems and your beloved boyfriend was stuck on that stupid farm.

God how you hated that stupid farm and Randy.

When he gave you one of those plushies that looked like him, you functioned it into a voodoo doll. But sadly, it didn’t seem to affect him, no matter how many needles you rammed into it.

Your heart felt heavy, and it seemed hard to breathe, but you brushed it aside.

You had already reached the busy streets of South Park and mingled between the newly vaccinated people.

Everywhere you looked, the people seemed happy.

Everyone was happy except you and the people around you… Maybe…You were the problem?

You shook your head. No, you didn’t allow those kinds of thoughts.

You much rather think about Stan. How you miss him and how amazing your dates were.

Oh, how much effort he put into all the small things… Well… At least he did.

Now that you thought about it when was your last date?

It feels like it had been ages. It has been ages. Everything had been ages. Going out with him, hanging out with your friends, your family not fighting… How long has this been the new normal? You can’t help but wonder.

Your heart clenched again. “Stop it, stupid heart.” You mumbled under your breath.

An exhausted sigh escaped your lips when you thought about how you maybe had to walk all the way up to the farm… It would take ages, but you really craved being held by the person you adored so much.

So, you continued walking down through the street when an elder lady stopped you.

“Excuse me, but you look rather sickly, are you alright?” Confused you raised an eyebrow. Did the vaccines make them delusional?

“No, I’m fine.” You answered, somewhat snippy, even when you didn’t know why you were so agitated.

“But you look rather pale, maybe you- I am fine.” You interrupted her and continued your path.

Were all people in this shitty town stupid or- The thought could not be completed, due to you suddenly losing consciousness.

When you woke up again, you immediately recognized one of the Hells Pass Hospital rooms, once your eyes had adjusted to the bright lights. Around the bed were your parents and more importantly Stan and his mother.

“Thank God, you’re awake again!” Your mother said when she went for a hug.

Confused you asked why you were here.

“Well, seemingly you were so stressed out, that your body basically shut down.”

Somewhat shocked you looked around. Was it really a surprise to hear that? Not really, but it still felt odd knowing that it happened.

“Well, I’m glad you’re fine, Y/N.” Misses Marsh commented and smiled warmly at you. She had always liked you and you felt the same. She was always nice to you and you felt like she was the only one with a brain in the family…

Feeling a sudden sensation of warmness on your hand, your eyes darted down to it. Stan held you hand while answering something your dad had asked him.

“Well, Sharon, you wanna accompany us to get some hot chocolate for us all?”

Your mother said with an odd wink, which made you and Stan roll your eyes.

The three adults left the room chatting happily. Stan looked at you with a stern expression, which kind of surprised you.

“I swear, whenever I think I couldn’t get more worried about you, your parents call me, to tell me that you’re in the hospital.”

“Worried? About me? I should be worried about you?” You laughed to which Stan shook his head.

“Listen, everyone has been super worried about you since you seemed so down and just exhausted. Like, Kyle already called me earlier to ask if you’re awake again. I don’t know why you worry about me; I am really fine babe. Promise.”

With that said, the door opened, and your parents came back inside.

“Y/N, the doctor said they would like you to stay the night, so they can check that you’re really alright.” Your father informed you and you were immediately annoyed.

Well, you had no choice but to oblige. Your parents left after an hour, wanting to get you some clothes and other things you’d need.

Sharon also bids her goodbye and so you and Stan were left.

And just like you wished, you got to cuddle with him. He held you close, and you vented to him, how worried you were about everything and everyone, while he told you just how worried all of your friends had been since you were acting so out of character.

“Even Cartman?”

“Yup, even when he would never admit it.” Stan laughed. He held your hand tight, and his content smile never left his face.

“I think we should talk more about feelings and being worried and all that. I know I’m not all that good at it, but I don’t ever wanna have to visit you in a hospital again.” Stan said, giving your hand a squeeze.

“That sounds good. But you gotta accept, I worry a lot, because I care a lot about you, okay?” You said sternly and Stan nodded. You two looked fondly at each other and just enjoyed the time you got.

“Together forever?” You asked and he whispered “Forever.”, before he pressed a sweet kiss onto your lips.

[willadisastercry]

Sleep deprived Keith annoying the crap out of the other paladins before crashing

Tw: depiction of sleep deprivation, insomnia, needles.

Keith has trouble sleeping sometimes... but this is a new level for him. His teammates can’t remember the last time he looked well slept and neither can he. They also don’t remember him being this hyper or social with them, like literally ever.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shiro so annoyed,” Lance whispered over a crouched Pidge as they peered around the corner into the control room.

Keith was hovering around Shiro as he typed away on the panel in front of him, working out the strategy for their next mission.

“Well, if you really think about it, the Galra are kind of like space Russia, they have a lot of real estate, the people are really tall, and—hey, wait why wouldn’t we infiltrate the loading dock first? That’s the most reliable route because the lions won’t be far, we can just cloak them ya know, like all stealth? and if we go in where...”

“I think his mouth is twitching, watch. There it is, it did it again!” Pidge pointed out, her eyes wide in amazement.

The older boy’s mouth was indeed twitching, the corner pulling up like he wanted to say something as well as drop someone, but he refrained from both.

“I think I would’ve punted Keith across the room by now... do you think Shiro meditates, he must meditate, ya know? He’s always so calm and reasonable, always telling us that we have to breathe and whatever, no one can possibly be that zen without—“

But before Lance could finish his analysis on Shiro’s freak ability to be so zen, the basis of his argument shattered with an explosion from their team leader.

“I can’t even hear myself think, Keith!” Shiro started, a vein very visibly pumping away on his forehead as his face took on a dark flush.

“I have been watching the same surveillance loop for five minutes now beccause I can’t focus with you rambling in my ear!”

The red paladin’s face fell, his antsy pacing halted and his hands tapping his side like he was anticipating something. He took a breath. He hadn’t realized he’d started trembling.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—fuck,” Keith said before turning away, “I’ll leave you alone.”

Lance and Pidge nearly toppled over with how aggressively they flung themselves away from where they had been perched while they eavesdropped. Mostly out of curiosity at how Shiro would handle a manic-ly energetic Keith.

They could hear Shiro cursing under his breath, then ushering an apology for being so harsh but Keith likely didn’t hear it as he hightailed it out of there. He moved so quickly he didn’t even notice the pair as they stood planted in the center of the hallway failing to feign even the slightest of nonchalance.

Shiro ducked his head out to find that Keith had already disappeared and became wildly flustered when he found the very guilty-looking pair instead.

“Uhuh,” he cleared his throat, “do you guys know what’s going on with Keith? I didn’t mean to be such a dick, but he’s like next level tweaking out and I have no idea why...”

“Uh, we’re not sure either,” Pidge replied, “but he’s been like this all morning.”

“Yeah, he made Coran snap and crack a crystal in half earlier...”

“Oooo and Allura stained her dress when he wouldn’t shut up about how human mice carry infection and probably shouldn’t be near food and then she like flung her coffee...”

“And poor Hunk was trying to entertain his ramblings about the how hard it is to attain cinnamon in space and that it should be rationed and ended up burning a whole batch of snickerdoodles...”

“He was bouncing off the walls, it was weird” Pidge resolved. “And Keith never has that much energy.”

“Yeah, he’s been rambling, that’s my thing! The kid hardly says more than five words in one sentence and now he can’t shut up,” Lance added, scratching his head.

“Okay,” Shiro looked like he was running over in his head a million possibilities of what could be wrong, “will you two go check on him for me... and let him know I didn’t mean to yell at him?”

“Of course.”

“We’ll let you know if we figure it out,” Lance promised before they started after their friend.

They checked the common room first as it was the next room on their way and found only a grumpy Hunk scraping the singed bits off of the plate of cookies in front of him.

“D’you see Keith?” Pidge asked, surveying the sight before her.

“No,” he gruffed sadly, taking a bite of one of the cookies and breaking it off with a loud snap.

“Okay, keep an eye out, we think something’s wrong...” Lance looked around, “I know where he might’ve gone but we have to grab something first, let’s go.”

They took off at an urgent trot, once again more out of curiosity than concern because this just didn’t occur. Keith is a guy of few words, so when he speaks it’s usually sarcasm, not a rapid flurry of silly questions that seem more like the goofy blue paladin than the tempered red. This was weird for him. And they just wanted to know why.

But their curiosity changed quickly into fear as soon as they entered the hallway of the training room because they could hear the intense whir of the simulator working. From down the hall.

“Shit Keith,” Lance said activating their bayards they stopped to pick up on the way.

“He’s got it on the highest setting—not even Shiro can handle that intensity solo,” Pidge noted as they raced for the door.

“This kid’s got a death wish,” Lance deadpanned as he wrenched the doors of the training room open, only to be immediately met with Keith’s strangled scream as his head snapped against the floor with a sickening crack, the sentry that threw him across the room quickly closing the distance between them.

Lance ran forward and knelt down, slowly lining up shots and taking down the new sentries as soon as they regenerated while Pidge made her way to the kill switch.

By the time she got to the lever and tugged it all the way down Keith was dangling from his twisted arm and throat, shuddering gasps the only noise he was able to make in protest.

Lance had just taken out the second sentry cornering Keith with a head shot when every robot assailant powered down at once, the one choking Keith releasing his grip on his throat first, his arm pulling at an awkward angle as he fell before it was released. The pale boy let out a shrill gush before clamping his lips together tightly and pulling his slumped form up with the help of the wall.

“What the fuck was that, mullet?!”

He refused to make eye contact with his worried friends as he went to storm out like before, but this time he moved slowly, gingerly.

“I needed a good workout... to clear my head,” was all he managed. They could tell he didn’t want to let on that he was in pain, but the way he grimaced when his arm swung as he walked as well as the obvious bump protruding from his shoulder where no bone should be told them otherwise.

“Oh, that’s a load! That was not a good workout, that was a good ass-whooping! And I’m not entirely sure there’s anything left in your head to clear after the way it smacked the—“

“You’re hurt,” Pidge blurted. “The sentry dislocated your shoulder, I’m staring at the head of your right humerus and I shouldn’t be able to do that...”

“Oh... huh,” was all the mind he seemed willing to pay to his injury, his eyes bleary and wider than usual as he continued to walk away from them, but they persisted.

“We’re taking you to get that checked out by Coran. Right now,” Lance ordered.

“I’m good,” he assured, shouldering the door with his other arm.

Lance reached the door handle first and pulled on it, keeping Keith from going anywhere and spurring a low groan when his bad shoulder was jolted.

“Lance...”

He looked so tired.

He closed his eyes and continued to lean heavily into the hulking door of the training room. Under the bright artificial lights his skin looked greyer than it usually did, every bone in his face sickly accentuated and sharpened, the staple bags underneath his eyes hanging heavier than ever.

“Keith, you’re hurt and something else is obviously wrong so NO, we’re not letting you storm off to go pout to maintain your stup—“

“Shut up—“

Keith’s vision tunneled, his eyes fixed in a clearly unfocused haze as he stared at nothing.

“What?” Lance questioned, very caught off guard by the sudden interjection.

“I s-said shut u-up,” he whispered as he sucked in a shuddering breath.

The shrillness of Lance’s chastisement made his head swim and he blinked away the haze that came with the sudden levity.

“Hey, take it easy...”

It seemed the more he tried to control the tremor in his voice the worse his entire body seemed to shake.

He was fading; he could feel it.

The exhaustion had given way to anxiety as the adrenaline dripped dry allowing him to fully feel the pain in his shoulder as it pulsed angrily.

It was like the tide was washing out, the tumultuous waves of the storm that settled itself in his chest receding just before the next wave surged, and then he could feel everything he’d been ignoring.

Every individual bone seemed to ache with weariness and the pressure behind his tired eyes was so immense that it made him unsteady.

“Woah, what’s going on man?”

The floor suddenly seemed to shift beneath him, like he was walking on one of those moving conveyer belts in the airport that made your feet feel weird once you were back on solid ground.

“I think you should sit down,” Pidge urged, tugging worriedly at the hem of his shirt.

As much as his pride wanted him to protest he couldn’t seem to muster enough energy to even disagree let alone have a shred of cofidence that he could possibly get himself back to his room on his own.

They seemed to understand by his silence that he wouldn’t push away their help now and then he could feel firm hands on his good shoulder and back, guiding his trembling frame down to the floor where he came to rest his head on the knee that wasn’t bouncing.

“Where you at, mullet?”

The tinier hand had never left the middle of his back and rubbed soothing circles on the tense muscles beneath it.

“Can you tell us what you feel like right now?” Pidge asked before moving a hand to steady his restless leg.

He took a strained breath.

“D-dizzy... c-cold maybe, I-I don’t know why I can’t stop s-shaking.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry about that.”

“Here, this’ll help,” Lance added as he draped his jacket over Keith’s back, careful to not have it touch his injury.

“How’s your shoulder? Is anything else hurting?”

Keith thought about it for a solid minute, finding it sort of difficult to organize his thoughts and give Pidge an answer.

“Hurts a lot. S-so does my head... I have a headache—maybe... maybe a migraine I d-don’t know.”

“Is that what was bothering you before? The lights are pretty bright in here so that’s probably not helping... why don’t we start heading to the infirmary, before it gets worse?”

He nodded slowly against his knee and lifted his head up, his eyes still pressed together tightly. He pried one open to test his head but the swirling nausea and general agony that followed was answer enough.

“You don’t have to keep them open if it hurts.”

He hummed in acknowledgment and steeled himself as they took up his good arm and pulled him to his feet then waited for him to give the go ahead before making their way.

It was almost worse when his eyes were closed. The pounding in his head had only increased while they guided him, each step rattling his brain around so painfully that it almost distracted him from the instense heat in his shoulder.

He didn’t know why his head hurt so bad and why it was making his eyes so sensitive. He knew he’d hid it, but not hard enough to warrant this. He was also really tired, practically jumping out of his skin every few moments when he let his head tip forward slightly as if to nod off, which was entirely strange and alarming seeing as he was so drowsy he almost fell asleep while still walking.

He hadn’t noticed when they made it to the infirmary, only realizing when he was being pushed to sit down on something and a light was being shone across his now opened eyes.

“No! Oh-ouch,” he inhaled sharply when the light retreated and he was left seeing a blurred strip of bright white across his field of vision.

“I apologize, my boy, it had to be done. No concussion though! We have dimmed the lights for your comfort, the aversion is most peculiar given your injuries... “

He proded Keith’s shoulder blade and the inflamed area around it, earning a hiss when he tested the dexterity of the limb.

“The scanner detects significant ligament damage that will need to be corrected in a pod after I er... set the joint in its proper place. It will hurt for only a tick and I have several nerve blockers and muscle relaxers I can inject in the area to make the process less painful. Does that sound manageable to—“

But Coran didn’t get to hear Keith’s answer, the way his face greened and he clamped a hand over mouth was telling enough. He bit back a sob as he lurched forward, not enough time or notice for anyone to prepare before Keith was dry heaving, but they didn’t really need to worry because nothing but saliva came up.

“Were you at all ill before this today? This is the first time you’ve been sick to your stomach... when was the last time you ate?”

Silence only followed for a dobash before all three launched into different themes of admonition, but they all had the same anger to them. He knew they meant well, that they were just worried, but the bite to their words made his eyes sting like hell and he was seriously worried he wouldn’t be able to keep the tears at bay before Shiro was there telling them to be quiet.

He turned his head away and tried to breathe normally, but his chest was working up and his head throbbed pitifully and the movement made the burning in his shoulder deepen to where he had to hold his breath to keep from aggravating it. But Shiro’s warm, human hand was pulling his face towards his own, his eyes taking in Keith’s form and coming to several conclusions at once, the tension everywhere, the darkness under his eyes, the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands shook entwined about themselves...

“Keith,” his voice was so low and warm, he felt his chest pang at the gentleness in it. He closed his eyes, he knew what was coming next and he was both relieved and terrified for it.

“When was the last time you got a solid night’s sleep?”

He waited, even though they both already knew the answer and then it was when his hand moved to cup the top of his head that he finally broke. He didn’t need to speak for Shiro to know the answer.

Too long. It had been entirely too long since Keith could remember going to bed and waking up refreshed, each night only more frustrating than the last as he laid his head on his pillow and closed his eyes, knowing full well it wouldn’t work. Nothing did.

This week had been too much though. Running on empty on far too many missions followed by a dozen insomnia-induced late night training sessions trying to tire himself out in order to snag only a few hours of rest.

He’d just kept excerting himself and not ever properly recharging, but not on purpose, he physically couldn’t.

That part wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help that, but he could let people know he was struggling and he had purposefully not alerted Shiro.

“Shit, Keith,” Shiro murmured with Keith’s forehead on his chest as he held back the sound of his crying, “you have to tell me when it gets bad like this! It’s not safe for you to be fighting and training when you’re not properly rested, you know that...”

Coran resumed analyzing his shoulder.

“And now you’re hurt because I snapped at you—Keith, I’m so sorry, I should’ve realized...”

“D-dont,” he managed through stiff breaths as Coran worked his bad arm gently out of his shirt, “s’not your fault, never is.”

Shiro set his jaw and eyed Coran who looked at him sadly and nodded.

“This conversation is far from over, but we have to get that shoulder fixed right now.”

Coran asked Pidge to gather some supplies and Lance to help him brace Keith.

“You’ll feel a small pinch in your arm now.”

He did. The area felt cold with the liquid that was now under his skin and Coran rubbed it for a minute before moving near his collarbone.

“This one might burn, but you’ll find it entirely numb in a dobash.”

This one was quicker, less to inject, longer to rub in so it spread. It burned and itched, earning a groan before he felt less of Coran’s fingers and more of just pressure.

“Oh, that’s... better.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

He felt someone kneeling behind him holding just below his shoulder and around his chest. Someone else was in front of him holding his arm up with their hand on his other shoulder, Shiro’s hands on his shaking one.

“Now I trust you’re familiar with what is about to happen, do you want me to explain what I am doing or—“

“Don’t explain, just—“

The pain that exploded with the hollow pop that followed was even grosser than the sound itself. Keith’s vision whited for a second and he was immediately ashen and panting as his body worked through the shock of the correction, his ears rang and so he wasn’t sure if he had screamed or not but with the way his throat ached he’d assumed he had.

Exhaustion weighed on him like a sopping wet blanket, making it difficult to keep his head up let alone his entire upper body. He wasn’t sure how long he had been leaned against Shiro’s chest once he started coming back to himself and realized he was the only thing keeping him upright.

Something was compressing his shoulder, pulling in places he didn’t quite like as it was wrapped tightly around the still damaged joint, making its way around his chest and back several times. Shiro held him away for a moment while something fell around his neck that held his arm against his chest and had an attachment to secure it to his side.

He tried to open his eyes and see what was going on but they were so very heavy and he was in awe of how he wasn’t entirely asleep by now, almost thankful for the steady ache behind his eyes as it was forcing him to keep them closed.

“You still there, Keith?”

He hummed into Shiro’s shirt in response.

“Hey, so we’re going to forgo the pod to repair all the torn ligaments for a little while. Coran thinks it’s best that you catch up on your sleep without the being frozen part... we’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow, does that sound alright to you?”

It sounded superb to him. Truly.

He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline crash or the general daze from sleep deprivation, but he was entirely checked out. Sufficiently out of it to care much about anything other than Coran’s lovely altean painkillers and the comfy pillow his head was now resting on.

Once he was laid down he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness almost immediately, the last thing he knew before he was consumed in bliss was the blanket that was being pulled up to his chest and Shiro calming words.

“Rest, buddy.”

And he finally did because now he actually could.

He wasn’t sure if it was the level of exhaustion he’d brought himself to or the threat of pain when he awoke, but whatever it was keeping him asleep he was grateful for it. Coran never even had to administer a sedative to keep him down during the night, just pain killers so he wouldn’t be woken up by his shoulder.

He slept for a day and a half after that, everyone taking turns watching over him while he slept so Shiro didn’t bring upon himself a similar fate.

The next time he was conscious coming deep into the next night, nearly early morning. Shiro stirred in the chair he was posted up in when Keith groaned and tried to turn over but cried out instead.

“Crap, what—hey... you’re okay,” Shiro soothed as he held Keith’s searching hand away from the thick layer of bandages covering his shoulder.

“It hurts, Shiro! It h-hurts!”

“I know, Keith, I know it hurts.”

Shiro sounded sad, Keith didn’t want to make him sad.

“I’m sorry...”

“You don’t need to be sorry for anything, bud.”

“I was stupid, I shoulda t-told you—just didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m always going to worry about you, Keith. All of us are going to worry until you stop giving us reasons to,” he laughed weakly as he ran his hand through Keith’s hair while his breathing returned to normal.

“And until then, we’ll be here to make sure you don’t get pulverized by the training simulators and aren’t walking around delirious from not having slept in a week, okay?”

“Aha, yeah... okay.”

He tried to doze off again, but the steady pulse of pain in his shoulder seemed to prevent it. After an hour of trying, Shiro called Coran in who agreed it was also time to go into a pod.

“You will feel as good as new in no time, number four.”

Keith nodded absently as he rested his head back against the cushion in the cryopod before its doors closed with a whoosh and then cold surrounded him, lulling him off into another much needed sleep.

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 6- Hospital

I’m here early! Mostly because I had a lot of this written earlier, so if that didn’t make it obvious enough I really liked this prompt. While it’s a hospital prompt is isn’t especially intense or gory, after yesterday I tried to make this one pretty lighthearted. Honestly I feel like the only really uncomfortable part of this is how much effort I put in trying to make a Pokemon expy. Hehe.

Sorry-not-sorry for more Sin and Bedman, it’s a bit more ‘romantic’ then last time but still pretty much platonic friendship. Enjoy!

Though it felt weird to say, Sin knew his least favorite thing about his father was his charity. Helping out people in need was a good thing, obviously, but a ridiculous amount of his childhood memories involved being dragged along to food banks, hospitals, and shelters so his dad could give corny, well-wishing speeches and lend a hand to those less fortunate, forcing him to help out alongside the other volunteers. Sin had used to wonder if it was because something about having a cute little kid around raised everyone’s morale, or whatever.

Well, considering he was now a grown-ass teenager at the age of sixteen, and Ky was still dragging him along, maybe he’d been off the mark.

At least he’d been allowed to take a break after an hour of schlepping donation boxes up to the children’s wing. Of all the places his dad went to for charity work, hospitals were by far his least favorite. The colorless, sterile atmosphere was just unnerving to be around. As soon as he could, he made a dash for the nearest sign pointing him toward the courtyard.

Sin swiped his guest ID through the maglock, which released with a cheery beep. The white walls and stench of antiseptic gave way to an array of soft colors and the smell of flowers. He took a deep whiff of the aroma and sighed with relief. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handheld, fully charged for when he got a break and could take a minute to loaf off and relax.

Which game had he left in it this time? He popped out the cartridge and smiled. That was right. Pocket Beasts: Light version. His current favorite. He just needed a comfy place to hunker down and play.

A few stone benches were placed in between bushes and flowerbeds, all unoccupied. The place looked really empty, but it made sense. Everyone who wasn’t already busy was probably at Ky’s speech. At least it meant he’d be able to get some peace and quiet and privacy.

He spotted a pretty lavender flower poking out of the bushes and approached. The ‘flower’ moved, making him realize he’d seen wrong. Sin groaned inwardly at the sight of another person, perched on the short stone wall surrounding the flowerbeds. They didn’t glance up, if they’d even noticed him at all, appearing too absorbed in their own handheld device to care about much else.

“H-hey.” He raised a hand at them, and offered a twitchy half-smile. There were so many ways he knew this could go wrong. Sometimes people screamed at him until he fled, or immediately launched into the most boring small-talk possible. Sin just wanted to play his game, he really had no interest in causing any trouble. “Can I sit down?”

Sin braced himself for a response, but he didn’t get one. “Hey?” He tried again, waving harder. Maybe they were deaf? “Is it ok if I sit out here?”

Eyes glanced up at him, but only for a half-second before they returned to the screen. Well, it wasn’t a ‘no,’ so the best he could assume was they just didn’t care.

Hesitantly, he found a place to sit. If the hospital gown and IV hadn’t already given it away, it was pretty clear that he was a patient, not a visitor. He was scrawny and spindly to the point where it was almost disturbing, his skin was pale and sickly, and the messy bedhead was only slightly offset by the awkward purple hair dye. Why was he out here in the first place, instead of at Ky’s speech?

He knew staring was rude, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Every time he tried, there was another odd little detail that caught his attention. A peculiar little hairclip in the shape of a pink arrow. A purple charm bracelet half-hidden by his standard-issue hospital band. Glittery star stickers on the sides of his handheld, and- hey, he recognized that game!

His expression brightened. “Oh, you play Pocket Beasts too? That’s my favorite! Who’s your starter?”

The only response he got was a couple of button clicks. Sin found himself sinking back into an uncomfortable silence. Well, he supposed it was better than being yelled at. He switched his game on.

Dad said he wasn’t supposed to use the internet at the hospital because it would mess with all the fancy machines, so online matches were out of the question. Well, there was always the battle tower. Maybe he could item grind to kill time. He still needed to finish his Soup Encyclopedia and some of the rare cooking items could only be found there.

Any discomfort he had was wiped away with the familiar music and intro screen of the game. How could he worry when there were battles to be won? All he had to worry about was making the most of his free time.

His avatar flickered into existence, still in the last town he’d visited. As soon as he moved towards the nearest building, though, a little indicator popped up on the bottom of the screen. Puzzled, Sin took his stylus and tapped on the icon.

Trainer BEDMAN would like to battle!

>Accept Decline

‘Bedman?’ He looked up at the little avatar that had appeared, then glanced off to the boy at his side. The messy lavender dye-job was surprisingly close, as was the magenta arrow pinning his bangs out of his eyes. Was it just some weird coincidence? If he wanted to play, he could have just asked…

Despite his confusion, Sin clicked ‘Accept.’ PvP battles were more fun than doing the same grind he had done over and over again. Even if he did lose, it was in a totally unique way.

The usual introductory animations played out as their avatars posed and tossed their first beasts into battle. Sin had to snicker at the disparity between their choices. He always liked sending his biggest and toughest beasts out in the beginning, and pretty much anything looked tiny beside it.

But smaller meant faster, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see the other one attack first. He braced himself for a tough starting move...only to be confused at the sight of a sand cloud being thrown at him.

Enemy Used SAND TOSS!

Accuracy Lowered!

Sand toss? What a waste of a turn! Sin grinned as it switched to his turn. Karate chop, a pretty powerful start, it always hit, and he had the type advantage, what a great way to start a match- !

Attack Missed!

“What!? How did that miss!?”

“Karate chop has a standard accuracy of 100%.” A low, quiet voice spoke up next to him, making Sin practically jump back in shock. “But I lowered your accuracy with sand toss, so now there’s a 15% chance it won’t hit.”

“...Huh.” He looked back at his screen. “Never see people use sand toss out of, like, NPC fights.”

“Most players treat accuracy-modifiers as a waste of time, but if you have a Pocket Beast with a high enough defense, then the turns spent not attacking are made up for when the opponent can barely hit you later.” The strange boy had such a casual tone to his voice, as though they’d been conversing for hours already.

It was a bit jarring, but Sin tried to roll with it. “I guess that does make sense. Sorta like when a beast has the ‘Decoy’ ability and the first attack never hits?”

“Kind of. But a lot of players know which beasts can have Decoy, so they know ahead of time to focus on stat-altering moves or poisoning instead of wasting a turn when they know attacking won’t do anything. Take your turn.”

It took him a moment to process the last bit, but he noticed the battle menu had popped up again. He picked another attack. “Why’d you want to battle me? Did you just pick at random?”

“You were the only opponent available.” Another sand toss. “It’s hard to find people to play with on local, and I’m not allowed to use global matchmaking in my room because it needs an internet connection.”

Sin waited for his two-turn charge move to activate, but before it could be his turn, a swift attack managed to knock his beast out cold. “Damn it! I thought I had that…”

He spotted a triumphant little smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Pocket Beasts is all about tactics. You have to take everything into account. It’s easy to just care about how much damage a move can do, but you’re doomed from the start if you don’t have the right stats, or the best moveset to compliment them.”

He couldn’t help but grin along with him. “Wow, you’re really good at strategy!

‘Bedman’ managed a small, awkward smile. “Well, um, not like I have much else to do…”

“Really?” Sin tilted his head. “I guess it’s good you’ve got something fun to do while you’re here, all this hospital stuff skeeves me out. When do they let you go back home? I dunno how long you’ve been here, but I think I’d go nuts after a couple of days.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been here a while, already.” A lucky hit from Sin’s beast managed to knock his first one out. “Since...last January, if I remember correctly.”

Last January? Jeez, forget a few days, he was sure he’d be past insanity after a whole year!

Sin donned a look of pity. “That sucks. What’s wrong with you?” The words came out before he could think or realize that it wasn’t an especially nice thing to say. “Uh, shit, sorry-”

“Mmm. It’s okay. At least you don’t mince your words. I have a neurological disorder that affects how my brain processes information. It’s a bit hard to describe. Let’s say a human brain is like a computer, it processes the inputs that are fed into it. Powerful, modern computers can process a lot of information all at once, but if a computer is old, or wasn’t built properly, trying to process too much information can make it overheat and crash.”

“Oh. So how do you keep it from ‘overheating?’”

“Sleep, mostly. I’m only awake for a few hours every day. When I’m awake, and I don’t have tests to do, I like to play games. My sister and I play multiplayer sometimes, but usually I have to play by myself. She has the same problem I do, so a lot of the time one of us is asleep during the times the other’s awake.”

Was it weird to get all this personal information from someone he’d just met? Sin wasn’t sure. But he did like talking to this guy. “Well, want to swap Friend Codes? If we’re registered as friends then local multiplayer should work, then you don’t have to use an internet connection!”

“Where do you live?”

“Central Illyria!” Sin beamed. “Like, half an hour at most. It should still work from there.”

The other boy gave him an odd look. “I’m sure there’s plenty of hospitals closer to you, then. Why did you come out all the way here?”

That got him to roll his eyes, making an exaggerated gagging noise. “My dad. He always drags me along on his charity stuff, carrying boxes and shit. He only let me take a break because he’s making some dumb speech up in the-”

And the regret came just as fast as he saw his companion’s expression shift. He hated the visits, obviously, but he knew it was important to a lot of people. And if someone had been stuck in a hospital for that long, maybe they’d be happy to have someone new come by. He must have come off as such a dick-

Before he could stew on it more, he heard a little laugh. “Yeah. I hate those, too.” Bedman was smiling at him. “You’re Kiske’s kid? That’s got to be awful.”

“Heh. Yeah, it really is.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Never gave you my name, did I? I’m Samson, but everyone just calls me ‘Sin.’”

“I was curious about your name, that does make a bit more logical sense.” His companion nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Sin.”

“Same! What about you? Can’t imagine your name’s really ‘Bedman,’ is it?”

“More of a screen name, really. My name is-”

“Mattie! Dr. Baldy says you’ve gotta have your IV changed!”

They both jumped at the sudden noise, accompanied by the slam of a door. A girl with shaggy blonde hair and familiar features limped into the courtyard, setting her sights on them as soon as she was visible.

“There you are! I just knew you’d be out here.”

“Well, there’s not many other places I could be…” He said. “When did you wake up?”

“‘bout half an hour ago.” She replied. “Just in time for mom and dad to send me out to look for you.”

The girl’s expression changed when she noticed Sin. “Oh! Mattie, who’s this?”

“Sin, this is my twin sister, Delilah.” ‘Mattie’ pointed to her. “Delilah, this is my...new friend.”

“New friend?” Delilah reached out and shook Sin’s hard with a remarkable amount of strength. “Did my baby bro talk your ear off about his favorite game again?”

“You’re only older by nine minutes, Delilah!”

“He’s really good at Pocket Beasts.” Replied Sin. “It was fun playing with him!”

At that, he realized neither of them had selected anything in a while. He looked down at his screen

TIME UP

DRAW

“Aww, maaaaan…”

“Do we have enough time for another match?” Mattie asked.

“Dr. Baldy looked really serious. We probably can’t make him wait that long.” Delilah shook her head.

Sin tried to bring the mood back up. “Well, we were still gonna swap Friend Codes, right? Then we can play whenever! Either of you have something to write with?”

Delilah pulled a thick black sharpie from her sock. “I have a marker! But no paper…”

“Oh! Hold on a sec.” Sin rolled his jacket sleeve up and held out his arm. Just write it on the back!”

The two of them looked hesitant. “Is that safe?”

“It’s totally fine! It’s a little hard to wash off, but that means it won’t smear before I get home!”

Mattie took the marker and began scribbling on his forearm. “You’re really quite strange, Sin.”

“Thanks!” As soon as the wet feeling on his arm went away, he twisted around to see two series of digits.“What’s this other number?”

“Our phone number. If, um, you ever feel like calling.” Despite his attempts to hide it, Sin could see the faint blush to the other boy’s cheeks. “Do you think you could do one more thing very quickly?”

He couldn’t think of what it could have possibly been. “Yeah?”

“Can you draw something on me? I’ve never done it before. I want to see what it’s like.”

He grinned. “Hell yeah! I’ll try and draw something cool real quick!”

Delilah winced. “You know mom and dad are going to kill you, right?”

“Just say it was my idea!” Sin beamed. Mattie flinched the first time he pressed the marker to his skin, but he managed to still draw a straight line. He couldn’t think of anything in particular to draw, so he settled for a series of sharp, criss-crossing black lines circling his forearm. “How’s that?”

“...woah.” Simple as it was, Mattie looked utterly awestruck. “It’s…

“C’mon, Mattie, we’ve gotta go!” Tired of waiting, Delilah all but dragged him off the wall.

“See ya!” Sin waved as they departed. “You’d better bring your A-game next time we battle, I don’t lose easy!” He folded up his game and tucked it into his back pocket. That was probably his cue to leave, too.

As he hopped off the wall, he could make out a faint voice trailing away to the other side of the courtyard.

“Huh? What’s the deal with you, Mattie? You never look that happy!”

Sin smiled as he turned to leave. Ky was probably waiting for him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been excited for the next visit.

[rosy-cheekx]

Case #0162406: Fear Factor

Case #0162407. Statement of Katherine Brown, regarding her experience in a Fear Factory. Statement taken direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. In your own time, Ms. Brown.

Please, it’s just Katherine. Did you have any trouble getting here? I’ve been told it’s quite hidden away. And I’m sorry again to ask you to come here but, as you can see, there’s really no chance of being able to pop down to London for a little day trip.

No, Ms. Katherine, it was no trouble. From what I’ve heard from the papers you have quite a story to tell.

Oh...you read about me? I was really hoping you wouldn’t. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy before hearing my story. I get why they think I am; I get why I’m here. But I know what happened, I know I’m not--

Ms. Katherine, please. I’m not here to pass judgement on your condition, just to take your statement. Now... In your own time.

Yes. Yes, of course... 

I’ve always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. When I was a kid, my friends and I would do anything we could. We were kids in the middle of nowhere, so it was mostly shoplifting and riding our bikes down big hills really fast, just to feel that heart-pounding rush of fear and success of survival. Our favorite thing to do, though, was go to haunted houses. From September through to Halloween, we would go to any haunted house attraction we could find and scream ourselves silly. As we got older, it became a more complex game. How long could we last, who would scream the least or the loudest, just kid stuff. Most of us grew out of it eventually, those sorts of attractions only get so scary. Rachel and I, though, we couldn’t get enough of it. We started finding weirder and weirder places to scratch that itch, that need to be terrified. As soon as she had turned 18, being a month and a half younger than me, we had signed up to go to our first touchable house. Typically, haunted houses have a no-touching-the-patrons rule, so the ones that don’t offer that safety were alluring to us. 

It sort of escalated from there, really. In America, there was a guy who had haunted houses so terrifying that you had to sign waivers and take a psych exam to go through. I’ve read all sorts of stories about them locking people in cages, cutting their hair, feeding them all sorts of things. All completely consensual, of course, a whole new level of terror attractions. It was shut down, I think, but that was the kind of scare we wanted. To go through something like that, and come out alive? We wanted to feel invincible, immortal.

Three years ago, I think, Rachel was in this forum, looking for some attractions that would be open in September. The weirder they are, the more likely they were to be open year-round, because Halloween wasn't the point. She found a really buried ad for one called Fear Factory. I think the ad labeled it as “an immersive experience sure to scare the life out of you.” There weren't any reviews on it at first, which was initially a red flag, but with some digging, we saw it was new.  Like, opened-its-doors-a-month-ago new. They seemed to be legit, their website boasted of other locations in America and Canada, but reviews seemed to be locked behind a password, so the experience wasn’t spoiled for first timers. Rachel put us on the waiting list. We were both freshly 21, feeling unstoppable, and weren’t really thinking about the risks.

A week or so later, we both got an email, claiming our application had been accepted and we were being offered an experience at the Fear Factory next Friday. We both eagerly accepted, and they sent us an address of where to go. We looked it up; an old office complex, rundown, but that fit the aesthetic of something like this pretty well. They had us fill out some detailed surveys, asking about fears, hard limits, and random things, like our relationship to each other, where we went to school, our interests.

We drove together to the complex, parking outside the building, and taking time to do our due diligence. We both texted Peter, a schoolmate of ours, gave him the address of the place, and a time to check in with us. Some of these more complicated scenarios take a while, and it was already 9 in the evening, so we told him to call us at 2 a.m. to check that we were okay. 

As we were both on our phones, we heard a woman clear her throat. She was tall, wearing a black jacket and jeans, and her sunglasses reflected the streetlamps off the lenses. She introduced herself as Mara and said she would take us to the “beginning of the end.” We laughed at that, elbowing each other over being scared. She took us up a few flights of stairs, before rapping a fingerless-gloved hand on the door of the third floor’s landing. She told Rachel to go in and someone would meet her there. I squeezed her hand twice before she left. I wish I had something, told her that I loved her, that I’d see her later, something. 

She brought me to the sixth floor and showed me into a small room. There was a small chair, but the room was completely empty other than that. It smelled sickly sweet, like something rotting. Mara let me in and handed me a strip of black cloth. A blindfold. I sat in the chair and tied it, knotting it carefully beneath my ponytail. She told me to count to 100, take the blindfold off, and the game would begin. As she closed the door, something I couldn’t quite call music began to play. It was high pitched and resonant, almost like an echo of laughter layered over itself.

I began to count, feeling like a kid as I added an unspoken “one hundred” underneath to make sure I wasn’t counting too fast or to slow. As I reached one hundred, the creeping music stopped. I took off the blindfold and blinked to adjust to what I now found myself in: oppressively cold darkness. I stood and extended my hand, slowly making my forward to where I knew the door to be. The intense feeling of fear began to creep over me, and I felt an irresistible smile spread across my face. I found what must be the handle to the door and twisted it. I shut my eyes tight against the harsh white light that filled my field of view. I blinked and adjusted to the light of the stairwell gradually, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. My vision pitched suddenly, the frame of the door bulging impossibly, twisting into what seemed like a smile. I inhaled sharply, like filling my lungs would catch my balance. 

 The sharp descending of the stairs twisted in front of me, my vision still swirling; it would take too long to take the time to carefully step down each without falling. I had to get to the fourth floor. I could escape there. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I leapt, hand on the railing, clearing the full set of steps as my anchored hand guided me down safely. The door for the fifth floor was in front of me, a dull pale metal, but I knew it wouldn’t be safe there. I repeated the process again, using the rail as a track for my hand as I jumped from the fifth floor landing to the fourth, the door with the 4 emblazoned in in black paint rising before me like the pearly gates. I would be safe there. I would be safe there.

I thrust open the door and found myself in the middle of a hallway. The floor was a murky pink and brown laminate, and the white ceiling low. There were no windows. Both ends of the hallway seem to split into two passages. Panic rose in my chest; they were coming. I had to go. I picked blindly, turning left, and running full tilt down the hall. Almost as soon as I had started running, I saw figures turn the corner. Their forms shed no shadows, a part of me registered, but it carried no weight as the bald, rotting, decrepit bodies sprinted towards me, ragged nails and broken teeth glinting in the light of the hallway. They leapt at me, biting and scratching. I’m sure I cried out as one took a chunk of flesh from my hand, but the blood pumping in my ears drowned out most sounds. I don’t know how I fought them off, honestly, adrenaline was overpowering all other senses. I continued running down the hallway.

There was a door. It was identical to the doors that had been in the stairwell, the cold brushed metal distorting reflections. It was only then, seeing a vague version of myself staring back at me that I realized I was no longer feeling that swirling dizziness. Relieved, I opened the door. I wasn’t entirely sure what I am expecting but it certainly wasn’t my dormitory. The tall bedframe, the simple desk, the wardrobe with the mirror hanging over the front of it. It was the mirror, of all things, that beckoned me. I let the door fall shut behind me as I took the few steps to cross the room and stare at myself. There was blood streaked across my face, and it dripped from my hands, which I realized with a start were still curled into tight fists. I had been wearing overalls over a sweater, but the front hung off me like a wilted petal, a snap apparently broken off during my previous encounter. I was a mess. I was dirty. I needed to change.

As soon as that thought had entered my head, I was already peeling off the destroyed overalls, all other thoughts set aside. I should have known it wasn’t over, that fighting a couple zombie-like creatures wouldn’t have been enough. It was too warm in this room, too sterile to be my dorm. But none of those concerns crossed my mind as I opened the creaky wooden door to the wardrobe, where I knew a fresh pair of jeans would be. And there were, I suppose. But opening the door had seemed to interrupt the new occupants of my closet, a massive hive of wasps that had built a nest along the swinging corner of the door and the small magnet that held the door closed. I had effectively torn the nest in two, and my error was not easily forgiven. I did hear myself scream this time as furious insects swarmed me, sharp stings lighting up my body like a thousand electric shocks. I staggered and backed into the wall, hands pressed over my eyes, too instinctively concerned for my sight to try to swipe at the wasps that flooded my senses. My scream didn’t last long, as my open mouth encouraged some stings to my tongue as well, and I gritted my teeth shut, heaving panicked breaths. I wasn’t sure how long I was there, pressed into the corner opposite the wardrobe, until gradually I realized that the stinging over my body was the throbbing of the previous wounds, not the inflicting of new ones. Tentatively uncovering my eyes, I surveyed the room. I was grateful to discover I must have knocked the mirror off its supports in my struggle, unable to comprehend what I must look like now, more histamine than human. I crept forward, avoiding the broken glass, except for a brief pause to stoop and gingerly grab a hefty shard. If there more of those undead bodies, I wanted to be ready. I also saw that the wasp’s nest was gone somehow. The compartment was devoid of the rolls of papery hive and any evidence the wasps had existed besides my aching body was gone. I was relieved and quickly grabbed the first pair of jeans I could find, wincing all the while as I shook out the folds. I refused to be sore and naked for whatever was about to happen next.

As I shook out the dark denim, I watched a handful of tiny specks fall off the pants. I wish it were a lie to say I almost laughed when I saw that they were ants, marching fastidiously along the creases of, upon inspection, every pair of pants I owned. Lucky for me, I suppose, that ants had never bothered me. The bad joke, however? Brutal.

You know how they say that adrenaline and fear help you preserve memories? Flashbulb memories, they’re called. Of traumatic or significant events. Well I think that even the adrenaline that was pounding through me had its limits. I don’t remember what happened next. I must have run out into the hallway, must have tried to find my way out, but it’s all a bit of a blur. I remember something to do with my teeth and a pair of pliers, but I don’t think there’s anything there I want to remember anyways. The next thing I remember, however, is something I don’t think I can ever forget.

I was in another long hallway. Or it could have been the same hallway, I’m not sure how I would know. I saw shadows shift and contract, and a form emerged, completely enveloped in shadow. It looked like a person only in that had two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. The hands were long, and the elbows crooked at wrong angles. The torso was slightly lopsided, like the head was too big to be supported properly. The legs were also impossibly long, and I couldn’t see feet. There was a sound, too, that was bothering me, but I couldn’t quite place it. It was like a low droning or buzzing, like it was trying to speak to me. We stood, frozen in a face-off before it lunged at me, moving at impossible speeds. I blinked and it was practically on top of me, swiping with its talons for fingers. I took some nasty swipes across my abdomen and stabbed at it with my shard of mirror. I missed once but the second time, I stabbed it where the neck and shoulder met. Shadows spilt from the wound, covering my hand in dark fog.

That was when I heard it. The buzzing sound sharpened and cleared up. I heard Rachel, crying, saying my name. I blinked and the shadow person was gone, and it was Rachel who I saw, Rachel whose blood was pooling around my hand, Rachel who I had stabbed. I dropped the mirror fragment and tried to apologize, but the words couldn’t quite leave my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to explain, apologize, or even comfort her, but the light had left her eyes soon enough and I knew I was ready to give up.

Police found me later. Apparently, we had been missing for two days. I don’t remember much of the trial, honestly, but there was never any evidence of either of us being drugged up or anything. They called it a temporary psychotic episode brought on by panic. I was put here instead, and I spend every night trying to avoid sleeping so I don’t see Rachel’s eyes, staring back at me, begging me to help. The...The wasps were real, though, I remember being treated for them in the hospital later.

Thank you, Ms. Katherine. Have... Have a good day. 

Click.

This has been a frustrating one to research. One would think a story with an online internet ad would lead to something. But no, Sasha hasn’t been able to track down any sort of Fear Factory, except for some Salt Lake City haunted house, but further research didn’t lead to any connections. There’s also a band, but there’s also no connections to anyone with the name Mara. Sasha was also able to finagle her way into old text records between Rachel and Peter, and got the address, near Oxford. Martin took a trip down to take a look at it but didn’t find anything. There was, in fact, an abandoned building, and it was, the site of the homicide of Rachel Tillvale, by Katherine Brown, according to police records. The odd part, however, is that Katherine was certain that she was taken to the sixth floor of the building, and that the fourth floor was her escape. Unless Martin has become wholly incapable at his job, which...is probably not the case, there are only three floors of that building. The weird part was the basement. Ms. Brown had mentioned something but couldn’t recall it. I understand why. In the basement of the building, there was a handful of adult teeth in the utility sink.

[ladyemberswrites]

I’m Not Crazy, You’re Crazy!

Some ficlet stuff from my Redemption Universe!Au

~ 

Melenor x Alfor 

. 

. 

. 

Alfor never considered himself a very bitter person. Sure, he’s held grudges, but he never found himself embroiled in absolute bitterness. There may be a widening drift between him and Zarkon, but knows in it his heart that it’ll pass. Or so, he wishes to believe. But, the truth of the matter is that he never knew what it was like to feel unholy rage- 

He found Melenor struggling to tip-toe around at the dawn of mid-night looking ragged and sickly pale as she slumped against the walls to keep herself steady, and hurdling to the floor. Her hair stuck to her face, and her legs wobbled, buckling, struggling to keep her weight. 

“Melenor?” 

Her body went rigid “Sire” she turns herself around, only for her knees to hit the floor.

“Melenor!” he rushes to her side “what are you doing out of bed?” he frantically glances over her noting that she had prespirated through her white, dress shirt. She felt cold, and clammy to the touch. 

“I just-” she clenched her teeth, pressing a hand to her belly as her head fell to his chest “I need out of that room.” she murmurs “I can’t stand it. I’m a warrior, not a invalid” she mutters into his sternum, her breath hot on his throat. 

“High General or not, you just gave birth. You should absolutely not be up and about” he slides his strong arms under her knees, and cradles her back. He lifts her with ease and carries her back to her private infirmary room careful not to justle her. 

.

.

.

Allura’s still asleep when they return, she’s swaddled tightly with only her tiny face peeking out from her cocoon of warmth. He places Melenor back on the bed, her tight grimace and knitted brows betrays her feelings all too well, but given her paleness her discontent loses it’s intensity. He undoes her her high ponytail, allowing the cascade of her snowy lockes to fall about her face, she huffs out an air of annoyance as he places her down. 

She hates having her hair down and shoves it harshly out her face. It aggravates her. It’s why he does it “I loathe this entire situation.”

“The hair or your condition?” he asks with a quirk of his brow. 

“Both. but, mostly you.” he gawks at her with wide eyes.

“What did I do?” 

“For starters stop looking at me like that” he blinks.

“Look at you like what?”

“Am I that pitiful to you that you have to look at me with contempt” her voice nearly cracks, her golden eyes turn from him in that moment.

Alfor sighs “You sound just like Zarkon” Melenor snorts.

“At least I can take pride in the fact that I’m still sane” 

“Mel.” 

She snaps back towards him her frecious amber eyes boring the cool blue that is his “You know as well as I, that man has clearly gone off the deep end. The rift did something to him, and you know it. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps completely"

“He just needs time.” he says, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or her, but at this point did it matter “He’ll see my side of things”

“And if he doesn’t? Then what?" 

Alfor doesn't answer and he's not sure why. Because she's right? Or because he's afraid of jinxing himself. It's one or the other, but he's for certain that Zarkon losing the final thread of his sanity isn't something he wants to image, or see be a reality. Clasping his hands together he stares off into the distance and out the window watching the autumn leaves fall.

"I'm sorry…"

"What?" His ears perk up, his head turns to find Melenor's casted away from him.

"I apologize." Her chest rises "I didn't mean to rub salt in the wound, I know how much he means to you." She murmurs, a rare tinge of red colors her pale cheeks and he couldn't help the slight smile that tugs at his lips..

"You're blushing" he runs his knuckles lightly over her cheek.

"I am not. A warrior doesn't blush as you say"

He laughs in good humor "Ah, but I've seen you blush before, haven't I? Remember, when we made love under the juniberry trees, I saw" 

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, shoving his hand away "It was a trick of the light, fool. I do not blush." She mutters into her pillow. He laughs again but with more heart.

"Will you hush, you'll wake the princess"

"You mean our daughter" 

"Your daughter" she corrects shortly. The good humor in the air dissipates, shattered by the cold reality before him.

"Melenor"

"I cannot be that child's mother."

"Biologically, speaking she is you're daughter" he argues.

"Our laws do not allow it. You know that better than anyone. I cannot be queen, and cannot be Allura's mother. It is simply not allowed" 

"Laws aren't always right-I can-" 

"Laws must be unhold. What's the point of them if we break those that we do not like? What then? What example, you as King, would you be setting for your people? Laws are set for a reason, whether we like them or not." Alfor swallowed, he kept his visage passive and unresponsive.

"We've taken enough liberties. We can't take anymore than the ones we've stole"

"We didn't steal anything"

"You should have taken a rightful queen instead-instead I distracted you, I kept you from your duties." 

"You kept me from nothing. I chose not to marry."

"Because of me"

"Yes. But, even if I didn't love you as I do now, I still wouldn't have taken Orla for my wife." 

"She's nobility"

"She's awful. I would rather be manually castrated than ever bed that woman." He muttered. 

Melenor eyed him, her hardened expression softened at the sight of his grimace. It's childish, the twitch of his lip. To her, he looks boyish and young, but he's right, nobility or not Orla's a repugnant woman. She would never wish her on him, not even her worst enemy.

"You're right. I loathe her entirely"

~ 

Keith discovers two disturbing truths in one night 

. 

. 

.

There's a muffled noise from behind the command center's door. He had assumed Kolivan would be alone. Perhaps, not as his sensitive hearing heard soft whispers. He really wasn't paying much attention to what was being said only that he had a message to deliver from Ulaz to Kolivan and be on his merry way for the night.

He took another bite from his apple, chewing and savouring the sweet flesh as he punched in the access code. The little lights lit up, beeping, the mechanic locks twisting and unlocking with a pop, the door slides with a hiss and with one step, and another bite he enters the room without a second thought.

He finds Kolivan, or more like he finds his back turned to him. 

"Koli-" he freezes mid-bite, he sees two legs that don't belong to the hulk of muscle and alien that is Kolivan. They're smaller, slimmer and dangling around his waist. His lips snap shut as the face that peeks over his shoulder is the last person he'd ever thought he'd see or want to see. The flushed, wide-eyed face of his mother staring back at him startled. Shoulders raised to her ears which slowly fall back as her lilac visage pales under the command center's dim lights.

There's a chill. Something beeps in his ears, and he isn't sure whether the coldness is due to the frigid tension or his body heat just dropped like a sack of iron hammers. The juice of his apple taste bitter on his tongue, dribbling down his chin, and onto his suit. Like his mother's his ears fall back, and his mouth clamps so hard that his fangs dig into his gums until he can taste iron on his tongue.

He steps back out the threshold hold and watches the door slide shut and leaves the Mamora's base ship and back to his room onboard the castle of lions with Kolivan's rigid backside burned behind his eyelids. The only thing that makes the night even worse than the lsd-induced nightmare he's living is accidentally overhearing a bizarre conversation between Allura and Prince Lotor- 

"-dreadful" 

"I know, but it'll help" he heard the prince grumble in the back of his throat.

"Why does your advisor have a whole barrage of fertility teas in the first place" Keith stopped dead in his tracks and blinked. 

...fertility teas? As in conception?

"They're leftovers"

"From what?" 

"Well, Coran had always dreamed of having a family of his own, hence the teas, but due to an injury he was rendered-uh impotent." 

"I see" he said after a moment.

"It was a devastating blow, poor thing, it's probably why he treats me as if I were his own" 

"Still doesn't explain why he kept all this" 

"Nostalgia" she said lamely "I suppose"

"It's creepy" 

"I know your not one to talk, Mr. Pervert" 

"Drink your tea, Allura" 

"You can't even deny it, can you?"

"Drink your tea, mommy" Keith almost swallowed his own tongue. 

"I'm not a mommy, yet-" he couldn't listen anymore, he left before his ears were assaulted again. He couldn't finish his apple, his appetite had been vaporized to kingdom come. First his mother, than Lotor and Allura- a shudder crawled down his spine, his mind kept making a flushing sound in the back of his head. He heard white noise, he could practically taste the static as he entered the lounge room with its bright, blaring screen and Hunk, Pidge, Matt and Lance's beet-red eyes glued to television set. Mario Party 6's theme song blaring in his ears like some sort of sick joke.

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Start of Something New Chapter 7 Pairing:  Todomomo, side Kamijirou Rating: T Word Count:  3,207 Summary: Momo is thrilled to be spending her winter break on her family ski vacation. Even though she’s anxious about graduating in the spring, she’ll have time to relax, enjoy the slopes and hang out with her best friend. Shouto is not thrilled to be stuck with his father for the entirety of his winter break. It’s anything but a vacation. Even with his siblings there, everything reminds him of his past and he just wants to get back to finishing school and moving on. When the two continuously run into each other at the lodge, both of them realize their vacations aren’t going to be what either of them expected. Read on AO3 Thanks to @its-love-u-asshole for reading this!

Climbing the stairs to the top of the lodge building, Shouto was thrilled to be getting some time to himself. Just as Yaoyorozu had pointed out, there was a large rooftop deck, completely empty minus her. Currently she was leaning over the railing, her long dark hair fluttering in the cool night air. She hadn't been kidding when she casually mentioned it was cold. Cold was... an understatement.

Zipping up his jacket, Shouto let the door shut behind him. Immediately Yaoyorozu turned around and waved, smiling at him. He nuzzled his nose against the collar of his coat and walked towards the edge of the deck where she stood.

There was something about her Shouto couldn't quite place. He didn't know this girl at all, and yet he felt drawn to her. She was beautiful, probably one of the most beautiful girls he had ever encountered, but it wasn't her beauty which drew him in. She seemed genuine, kind and easily excited, but still poised, classy, and well put together. He found himself impressed by her.

It was why his feet kept walking towards her even now.

"Ah! Todoroki-san!" she said. "I'm glad you were able to find it. T-Though I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult to find a rooftop deck." She laughed at herself, though he could sense she seemed nervous. "A-Anyway, I'll stop talking now so you can have some peace and quiet. I understand how sometimes a vacation doesn't feel like one unless you... take some time to yourself."

A small smile pulled across his face. "I don't mind talking to you, Yaoyorozu-san. You're very refreshing."

"A-Am I?!" she squeaked, shock crossing her features.

"Trust me," he muttered, leaning against the railing. "You're far better than dealing with my father at dinner."

"I see..." she said softly. Her pale face was illuminated by the fairy lights which trailed around the deck. They twinkled against the snow, some of them covered with the freezing white dust. The slopes before them were mostly dark, minus two small trails still lit for those who chose to go night skiing. "I'm sorry, but... I do understand," she admitted. "My parents haven't been the best this year either." A sad look crossed her eyes, and Shouto wanted to ask her more, but felt it wasn't his place.

"You... come here every year, correct?" he asked, glancing towards her.

Immediately her face lit up. "Yes!" she said, clapping her hands together. "I know I mentioned it before, but this is my favorite place in the whole world." She smiled, glancing out at the mountain. "The air is fresh, the snow is beautiful, and I have so many wonderful memories here."

Shouto couldn't help but smile, the energy radiating off of her was contagious. "Mmm," he nodded. "You can tell you love it."

"I'm glad! I hope whatever is going on with your family doesn't ruin this place because it really is incredible," she said. "I'm trying not to let my parents get to me too much. Thankfully, Kyouka-chan is here. We met here actually, and we've been friends ever since. Both our families always come during winter break."

"That so?" he said, listening to her speak so excitedly about her favorite place.

"Mhm!" she nodded. "I love spending time with Kyouka-chan." She shut her eyes and pulled in a long breath of air. "But I also love being out on the mountain."

There was a time when he would've probably agreed. Though he had never been to this lodge specifically, being out on the slopes and skiing through the snow was important to him. He could actually connect with his mother when he was out in the snow, it felt like she was there, skiing right beside him.

But lately it was hard to feel nostalgic when his father was breathing down their necks, setting a schedule for their vacation. Did he expect them to have fun? He supposed that was probably what his father wanted, especially since he was wanting to 'play games'... though Shouto could only imagine what a disaster that would be.

"I used to love that, but this trip has been... nothing but a headache," he sighed, leaning forward against the railing.

"Ah? I-I'm sorry, Todoroki-san," Yaoyorozu said quickly. She bowed her head. "I can keep quiet so you can have a peaceful moment!"

"No," he chuckled, laughing at how quick she was to be nervous. "I already said I don't mind listening to you speak. Actually, hearing you talk so fondly of this place makes me... like it more."

"Really?!" she said, her dark eyes shimmering with excitement. She reached forward and grabbed his hands. "It really is amazing here. There's so much to do and the scenery is so calming and beautiful! And the food is also amazing. I-I mean you already ate at the best restaurant but-" She paused, as if she suddenly realized they were now holding hands. She jumped back a bit, running her gloved hands over the railing. "S-Sorry, Todoroki-san... I get so excited and since things have been a little stressful... I was happy to share fond memories!"

Cute.

Oh gosh, was she cute. He thought back to his father being so frustrated this girl could potentially be a distraction for him. Admittedly, Shouto had never thought too much about romance or girls... or any sort of relationships as he often kept to himself. He didn't have time to focus on other people, not with the intense study schedule his father often prepared for him.

But what if...

What if, just this once, he allowed himself the distraction?

He watched her for a moment, her gaze staring at her hands, as if she was so embarrassed she had accidentally held his hand for a short period of time.

"Please, Yaoyorozu-san, don't apologize. I like hearing you talk about... something you love."

'You look beautiful.' The words hung on the tip of his tongue. He barely knew her, and he couldn't just blurt these things out. She would probably look at him like he was some sort of creep.

"O-Oh..." she said, and giggled. "Well, what about you, Todoroki-san?" she asked, leaning against the railing. "What is something you love?"

He froze. Something he loved? What was... something he loved?

"Cold soba."

How lame. He mentally slapped his hand against his forehead. She was going to think he was some sort of idiot; he was certain she didn't mean what his favorite food was.

"Cold... soba?" she asked, tilting her head. She giggled softly, the sound echoing on the winter wind. It warmed him, even with the cool night air surrounding them.

"That... ah... uhm... " He turned away from her, not wanting her to see how his cheeks were currently as red as his left portion of hair.

"Soba is quite tasty so, I understand!"

She was just being nice.

"Sorry..." he mumbled. "That probably wasn't the answer you were expecting."

"Admittedly, no!" she laughed. "But it was... very endearing."

"...I suppose," he sighed. "It's... difficult for me to say what I really, truly love."

"I can assure you, Todoroki-san," Yaoyorozu smiled. "This is a very safe space." She placed her hand over her chest and stood up straight. "I swear, anything you tell me will not leave this rooftop deck."

His eye widened as he watched her.

 Cute!

It made his chest clench a little. Was this what it meant to have a crush?

It was a foolish feeling, since he most likely wouldn't see her after this vacation was over... and yet...

He didn't hate the way his heart fluttered when he looked at her.

He nodded his head at her. "Thank you, Yaoyorozu-san. It's not that I don't trust you." In fact, there was something very appealing about speaking to her. She didn't know him, had no bias towards him or his past or how he acted in school. However, he didn't want to make a complete fool of himself.

"Oh, I'm glad I seem trustworthy!" she smiled.

"Mhm," he nodded. "I suppose... it's hard for me to say it because I'm not sure what I love."

Her brow furrowed, looking at him with such concern. There was a part of him that regretted speaking up, because he much preferred when he was able to make her smile.

"Can I ask what you mean?" she said softly, her dark eyes waiting patiently for him to speak.

"My father," he began slowly, "he wants me to take over his company. He's a businessman. My whole life he's been pushing me. It's always been my only purpose."

"Your whole life?" she asked, gently prodding for more information, though nothing about her tone or demeanor was pushy.

"Mmm..." he nodded. "My eldest brother was sickly as a child and deemed unworthy. He's studying abroad now to be a doctor. My sister, as a woman, was not worthy to him... Natsuo, the brother you met, he is far too easily distractible and my father couldn't put up with it," he explained. "Then there was me, and I am being molded into his perfect little heir." There was a bite to his tone and he turned towards the railing, staring at the snow pooled on top of it.

He swallowed, wondering if he had said too much. It wasn't like him to speak about his family so freely, but Yaoyorozu made him feel so comfortable.

"Todoroki-san," she whispered, reaching over to place her gloved hand over his. "I'm so sorry. Is business something you're interested in?" she asked. Her voice was so genuine, and even through his glove, he could feel the gentle pressure and squeeze from her hand.

"I don't know. I've never been given the freedom to think about it," he admitted. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever even asked him a question like that.

"I see," she whispered. "Are there any... hobbies you have that you enjoy? Something you pull joy from?" she asked.

"Mmm." Shouto hummed softly. "I enjoy this. Skiing, I mean. Or I used to."

"What changed?" she asked.

Shouto froze, his heart suddenly throbbing in his ears. He knew exactly what changed, but the words were trapped in his throat. He couldn't just say it, could he?

 "It's your mother..."

 "She..."

"I..." He let out a soft breath, a heated cloud curling in the air in front of him. "I don't know," he lied.

"I see," she whispered. Maybe she could tell he wasn't giving her the full story, but she was far too polite to ask for any further details.

"What about you," he asked, changing the subject. Dwelling on his mother was never good for his mental state, and so far the majority of this trip had brought back nostalgic memories which made his heart ache. He didn't want to think about it, not when he was spending time with her. He had talked about himself far too much already.

"Me?" she gasped. "I-I... admittedly after hearing your story I feel a little foolish," she said.

"What? Please Yaoyorozu-san, that wasn't my intention," he urged.

"I-I know!" she said. "It's silly. My parents keep pressuring me to decide what I want to do with my future. I've been accepted to the university I wanted and unlike you, my father doesn't mind if I take a different path with my life... however, I know he wants me in a stable position. You should've heard him tonight," she laughed sadly. "Kyouka is a musician and he was very concerned I planned on following her."

"Ah, parents," Shouto sighed.

"Right?" she said, sighing along with him. "I actually really enjoy chemistry, but I have no idea if my father would approve. I don't know where exactly I can go and be a chemist. Maybe I could teach..." she babbled, nervously stroking the end of her hair between her gloved fingers. "It's overwhelming, to think about and consider your future. I was hoping this trip would be a nice break from it all, but almost every dinner my father brings it up."

They had opposite problems. Shouto was being forced into a set future, one he couldn't change, and Yaoyorozu was spiraling along an uncertain path, one she couldn't decide upon.

"I've mentioned it to Kyouka, but her family is so relaxed and supportive of her music, she tends to not understand why I don't just choose what I want," she continued. "While that's nice to think about, I worry my father won't approve."

"I understand," he nodded.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure it's not pleasant to hear about my horribly wishy-washy decisions."

"Please, pressure, regardless of what form, is never pleasant," he muttered. He knew this quite well.

"Thank you, Todoroki-san," she said, bowing to him. "I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me."

"Well thank you for doing the same," he chuckled, nodding. He did feel a bit guilty for speaking to her so much, but at the same time... she had been so open with him too. In a strange way, he felt she understood him.

"Perhaps we could... speak up here again sometime in the next week and a half," she said, a smile pulling across her features.

He would've spoken to her up here every night if he could.

"I would like that. You're right, it is very peaceful and calm up here."

"Mhm," she said and placed her finger against her lips. "It's a secret! But I'm happy to share it with you."

He bowed his head to her and chuckled. "I feel quite honored to know about it then."

She nodded and reluctantly pulled her hand away from his, realizing she still had it resting over his. "I-I do wish you could come to the party tomorrow night, but I understand your father is quite intense!" she sighed.

He clenched his hands around the railing. He wanted more than anything to come to the party and spend more time with her. "I'll... make it," he said. "I'll figure out a way to get away from him and-"

"Ah! Please don't get in trouble, Todoroki-san!" she said, her eyes shimmering with nervousness.

"I won't," he chuckled.

The two of them stayed on the roof for a bit longer, letting the night slowly wear on. For now they were free from their burdens, their families slept soundly while they spoke into the night, and Shouto knew he had to get to that party, no matter what.

~~

"Someone's glowing," Kyouka said, flopping onto Momo's bed. The two met up after skiing and showering the next day. The party was only a few hours away and the two girls had plans to get dinner and head over to the pool.

"Glowing?!" she gasped and slid the closet door open, searching through the clothes she hung up. "I-I don't know about that."

"Have you been texting with Todoroki?" she teased.

"Well..." she cleared her throat. "We actually spent some time together on the roof." She braced herself, ready for the reaction from her friend.

"What?! Yaoyorozu Momo, taking a boy up to her very special spot?!" Kyouka gasped, clutching her hand against her chest as she leaned forward on the bed.

"K-Kyouka! It wasn't a big deal. He was having a difficult time with his father and so I invited him up for some peace and quiet."

"Sure, sure," she nodded, folding her arms over her chest. "Peace and quiet, and then you proceeded to talk his ear off I assume."

Momo popped her head out of the closet, her cheeks bright red. "Oh gosh... I probably did talk too much!"

Kyouka scoffed. "I doubt you did, I was just making a joke."

"R-Right..." Momo sighed. "I don't know it was... pleasant. I think we sort of understood each other even though our problems are very different." She smiled, glancing towards her window as she pulled a sweater off of the hanger. "And he did say he was going to try and make it to the party tonight." She hummed, clutching the sweater to her chest as she rocked back and forth happily.

"Great. So are you ready to admit this crush you have on him?" Kyouka smirked, raising her eyebrow at her best friend.

"Huh?!" She froze. Admittedly, she had an amazing time on the roof last night. Besides Kyouka, she couldn't remember ever connecting with someone that fast. They spoke for so long and Todoroki admitted his love of soba noodles and his frustrations with his family. She too, had admitted her own frustrations, though hearing his did make her feel a little guilty.

She wanted to say she liked him. When she thought about him her heart fluttered and she couldn't stop smiling. But there was a gentle ache in her heart as well, reminding her that this vacation wouldn't be forever. As much as she and Kyouka had connected and kept in touch... a long distance relationship was extremely difficult, and Momo was about to head to university. She didn't need that sort of distraction.

"I already told you I would only admit it, if you admit your crush on Kaminari-san!" Momo continued, immediately changing the subject.

"What?! This has nothing to do with me and him!" Kyouka sputtered.

"When are you two going to ski together?" Momo teased.

"Uh, excuse you, he snowboards, which is why we won't be 'skiing' together," she said.

"Okay," Momo sighed dramatically. "When are you going to hit the slopes together?"

"Uh, never," Kyouka snorted.

"So you're ready to see him tonight then?" Momo asked, humming as she began to button up the red sweater around her white tank top.

"Whatever," Kyouka said, flopping back down onto the bed. "Who knows if we'll even talk."

"Didn't he say he would see you there?"

"Okay, Yaomomo, seeing something and actually talking to someone are two totally different things!" Kyouka said, staring up at the ceiling.

"Ah, right," Momo snorted, pulling her long dark hair up into a ponytail. "How could I ever possibly forget?"

"I don't know, but you have to trust me on this one," Kyouka explained.

"Right, you are the dating expert," Momo said, nodding at her friend.

"Between the two of us, I really am," Kyouka said. She pushed herself up and stretched. "We ready for dinner?"

"I don't understand why you're so hesitant to say you like Kaminari-san, you've never held back in the past," Momo asked, ignoring her question about dinner.

"I-I dunno!" Kyouka hummed. "He's... a nerd." She pursed her lips, and Momo could tell her friend knew it was a poor excuse.

"There's nothing wrong with nerds you know?" she huffed.

"You're fine, but... I dunno... he's just not my normal type."

"Maybe," Momo began, hooking her arm through Kyouka's, "that's a good thing!"

Kyouka sighed, grabbing her small bag. "Who knows..." She rolled her eyes and nudged Momo. "We'll have fun regardless."

"Of course!" Momo smiled. As much as she knew that was true, deep down there was a small part of her that hoped she would get a chance to see Todoroki there.

[soriseerakyra]

Nice To Meet You -14-

Hey...pt 14 yay?

The beeping is annoying. Being the light sleeper that you were, the high pitched repetitive sound was more than enough to rouse you from you slumber. Your eyes slowly peek open, tearing slightly at the harsh white hospital light that pierces through the room. A groan leaves your lips as the sharp sting of a headache wracks through your skull. A quiet moan of pain leaves you lips as the room begins to come into focus. 

The white perforated ceiling, the slight smell of alcohol, and the beeping gives you a clue as to where you are. You can’t remember the last time you were admitted into the hospital, but you know that this isn’t going to be a fun time. 

As you pull yourself to sit up a snore catches your ear and you realize that there is a slight depression near the foot of your bed. Black-boot-clad-feet are laying leisurely on the bed. Slight flecks of dirt falling onto the clean thin white hospital blanket every time the foot slightly moved. Dark pants, a black shirt, and a brown leather jacket all gave you clues to the identity of the person was. The mop of dark hair and tense cross arms gave you even more indication, after all it did seemed like Bruce only picked people who look exactly like him to do his job. But you were surprised by his presence, what was he doing here?

Footsteps catch your attention and you see a nurse peek her head into your room. Her round face brightens in surprise when she sees you awake and sitting up. She opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly, and painfully, raise a finger to your lips, shushing her. You had no idea what Jason was like, but you had a suspicion that he wouldn’t be too keen on having a stranger wake him up before he was ready. She nods and comes into the room, bending over to talk lowly with you.

“I’m going to tell the doctor that you are awake. It may take a while for her to come, so do you need anything while you wait.”

“I have headache,” you complain with a slight pout.

“I imagine,” she says tenderly placing a hand on your head lightly running her hand over an area, checking for your reaction. When your face scrunches up in pain she nods her head as if making a mental note. “Not many fall down a slight of stairs not have headaches.”

“Stairs?” You question looking at her strangely.

“Don’t you remember sweetie, your friend over there was trying to help you move and you slip down the stairs.”

You blink at her blankly for a moment, but you quickly realize, that is the story that Jason must have come up with so you nod, “Oh yeah, that box was heavy.”

“Mmhmm, I’ll get you some Tylenol.” She says walking out the room and turning a corner.

Your eyes cut to the form of the sleeping boy in the chair next to you, only to meet violent blue eyes. Their intensity slightly startles you and you feel slightly intimidated by the look in them.

“Hello?” You try giving him a slightly stiff wave of the hand.

He doesn’t respond, a grunt leaving his lips as he slightly stretches before removing his feet from your bed and planting them on the floor. As he sits up straight you notice that there is shock of white hair breaking up the dark of his inky black locs. He did seem rebellious in some sort, but you didn’t think that he’d be the type to dye his hair white. 

“How did you find me?” You question not wanting to beat around the bush.

   “I wasn’t looking for you,” he says with slightly pursed lips, jaw setting in seemingly perpetual irritation. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

A soft silence falls over the room and your feet begin to twitch with irritation.

“What happened?”

His eyes run over your form as he debates telling you. You would probably bother him until he told you, but it didn’t feel right to weigh you down with the details with how rough you looked. Deep purple bruises surrounded your eyes, a long wound that probably would scar, ran from your hair line down to the point of your chin. The rest of your body had been covered in bruises and they had just finished flushing your system of the chemicals that the man had shoved down your lungs. There was so much that you would have to deal with, especially once you started to deal with the effects of the attack. 

“Another failed attempt at kidnapping you,” he states plainly.

“Obviously,” you say with a slight roll of your eyes and pout. “But I mean how did I get here? And I imagine I must look like shit, for you to have to tell them I fell down the stairs. How did that happen?”

“You may have fell out of the back of a moving van while stuffed in a body bag.”

You blink blankly at the boy, your mind trying to register what he was telling you. Had that man really been so close to getting away with you?

Your hand clenches at the blanket beneath you as a shiver runs down your spine. For all your precaution, how had you not noticed the strangeness of your company? The only thing that made sense was that your time with these people, at the company that you had been a part of since its inception, had dulled your senses. Even when you were going through the rough patch going to work was one of your safe places, especially since you had known the people so well. Not well enough, it seems.

“It’s not your fault.” Jason interrupts.

“What?” You ask looking up to meet his eyes.

“Lots of people tend to blame themselves when things like this happen. And besides it’s all over your face, you’re clearly thinking about how there should have been something that you should have noticed, to protect yourself. But bad people always find a way to take advantage of those with good intentions. It’s not your fault.”

You blink slightly in surprise, not expecting to hear such comforting words from the harsh young man. 

“Thanks.”

It’s slightly awkward for a moment as silence fills the room.

“You didn’t have to stay with me, you know,” you say.

“Hmph,” he huffs in response, averting his eyes away from you.

“Did Bruce give you the basket?”

He looks at you for a moment, “Yes.”

“Did you like the sweets?”

“They were edible.”

There was meant to be a bite to his words but a part of you feels like that he is just responding in the only way he knows how, and that he really did enjoy them. So, you can’t help the smile the crosses your face. 

Footsteps tapping on the linoleum catch your attention and both of your watch as the nurse returns with a familiar form behind her.

“I’ve got your medicine and I found a visitor,” she says with a perky smile. 

Bruce’s tall suited form ducks into room, a worried look pasted in his blue eyes. He rakes his gaze over your bed ridden figure and a frown pulls its way on to his lips. His gaze quickly moves to from your form and to his son who’s is not returning his look. 

As you swallow the pills that the nurse gives you, you notice the slightly surprised expression that appeared on Bruce’s face. You weren’t the only one who was surprised that Jason bothered to stay with after your ordeal.

When the nurse is done administering the medicine and checking your vitals, Bruce pulls one of the chairs up to the side of your bed, opposite of where Jason sat.

You flick your eyes up to Bruce’s feeling slightly embarrassed at your predicament, of course the first time you leave the house you almost get kidnapped. You didn’t even tell anyone you were leaving. What would have happened if Jason hadn’t have found you?

“I’m sorry,” you say with a small voice.

Bruce doesn’t respond at first, but his eyes soften at your dejected form, “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have at least told you where I was going.”

“Or that you were leaving period,” he adds with a slight sigh. “But what’s important now is that you are safe.”

A weak smile passes over your face, “Thanks to Jason.”

A snort of approval comes from Jason’s direction causing Bruce to roll his eyes.

“What happened?” Bruce questions attempting to change the subject.

“Stupidly,” you start with a sigh. “I went to meet with my bosses. It just bothered me that neither one of them seemed at all interested in the fact that so many people had been “leaving.” But big surprise when they got there neither one of them was there. I mean it wasn’t a big surprise that Preston wasn’t there, the last time I saw him he looked sickly.”

“Sickly how?”

“Pale,” you start, “He seemed sweaty, eyes were bucked, and it seemed like he couldn’t keep focused on anything.”

Bruce’s eyes flash over to Jason who shakes his head. None of the victims that Jason had seen, before they were abducted had acted like this, and there wasn’t a rash of illnesses going around Gotham either.

“Anyway, when I got to the top floor their assistant was there, Kristen, she was acting strange. She was even willing to set up a meeting with them, which almost never happens if you aren’t important. She had something in her hand but I couldn’t make out what it was. And then when I got into the elevator the Big Man was there.”

“Big Man?” Bruce questions.

You open your mouth to respond, but Jason cuts you off, “He looked like the guy who attacked you in her apartment the other day.”

“You let him go?” Bruce questions with surprise.

“No,” Jason says bluntly, eyes hard. “So, he was either a twin or a doppelgänger is running around out there.”

“Exact same?”

“The only difference is this one had van and was trying to run me over with it.”

“He called me ‘Little Lamb’ and said that he took Camille, he talked about her like she was still alive too,” you pipe up.

“For all we know he could have. And if they aren’t hurting the victims right away that’s good news,” Bruce starts, hand coming up to rest on his chin as thoughts begin to rush through his head. “’Little Lamb, is strange.”

“He was dressed like a butcher.”

“Maybe the van used to belong to a butcher shop or a meat factory,” Jason adds in.

“That’s probable,” Bruce says with a nod. “Lamb is also often used in a religious context, as well.  If they are kidnapping people they could also be trying to indoctrinate them into a cult.”

“Or sacrificing them,” Jason says. “Lambs are usually used in sacrifice.”

Your hands clench around the blanket as the headache you had when you woke up decides to make its presence known once again. On one hand, you were glad to think about the possibility that Camille was alive, and you felt horrible for wanting to hope that that she was being indoctrinated, but Jason’s theory was too much to think about. 

“Are you, all right?” Bruce questions, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not really,” you say honestly. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get her ba-“

The nurse interrupts Bruce when she pokes her head around the corner, “Visiting hours are over gentlemen, she’ll be here in the morning if you want to see her.”

You can audibly hear Jason suck his teeth in annoyance while Bruce flashes her a polite smile.

“We’ll say are goodbye’s and head out now, miss.”

A small blush finds its way on to her cheeks and she can only muster a nod in response.

With a sigh, the metal feet of his chair scrape against the ground as he pushes back and begins to stand up. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, again.” He says looking at you rather sternly. You give him a sheepish smile and a nod. 

His eyes rake over your form for a moment, as if looking to make sure that you were telling the truth. He lets out a snort before exiting the room rather hastily.

“He means well,” Bruce says with a slight hum.

“I know, he wouldn’t have waited for met to wake up if he didn’t,” you say giving the man a slight smile. 

Bruce’s eyes soften when he looks over your form, his heart stinging slightly as he takes in the bruising around your eyes. “He’s right though.”

“Hmm?”

“Leaving and not telling anyone was pretty stupid. What if Jason hadn’t been there to save you?”

“I know I-” you pause mid-explanation when a large hand comes to rest on your cheek. A warmness spread across your face and for some reason you find it hard to meet his gaze. “I just couldn’t sit around.”

A thumb brushes against your cheekbone and you have to stifle a gasp when warm lips press a rather tender kiss to your forehead. “Just be more careful.”

When he pulls back you look at him a little starry eyed and give him a small nod of your head.

He makes his way to the door, “Get some rest.”

“I will.”

***

Jason is waiting for him outside the hospital. 

“Thank you for saving her.”

“You should keep a better eye on your pets,” Jason says with a slight smirk pushing off the wall following the larger man.

“Jason,” He warns with a sharp glare.

“And here I thought you could take a joke,” he says with a smirk.

“It’s not funny when she could have died, Jason.”

“And others still could, that’s what we need to focus on.”

“Of course,” Bruce says as he stops in front of his car. “Anything specific about that van, you want to tell me?”

“Blue, rusted, had a hard time getting a look at the license plate while it was trying to kill me, but I’m sure there are tire marks to follow, especially since I shot the back tires out. But that’s not the only thing. The van came up from some sort of secret underground bunker, underneath her company.”

Bruce checks his watch,” Why don’t you track down where the van and I’ll go look at this bunker.”

“Hey! Just because I saved her doesn’t mean we are working together now.”

“No,” Bruce said with a shrug. “but weren’t you the one complaining that I wasn’t saving enough people?”

“I-”

“This way we cover more ground, save people faster, don’t you agree?”

Bruce flashes him a smirk as he dips into the vehicle, not giving the befuddled boy a chance to response. As he peels off from the curb and begins to speed away, Jason is left on the corner shaking his head.

“Damn it!”

@capitan-amelia-bradley, @drunkprocrastinator, @nerdboylover, @junieyes, @cas-backwards-tie

[bakuryo-blog1]

Wow, huh, I guess I’m actually getting kin memories for David! Memory dump after the cut, and it’s really lengthy.

That summer actually was my very first summer as a camp counselor, and the end of it was very difficult for me. I didn’t even realize it was coming to an end, until the second to last day. Gwen had probably realized I was clueless, because she had helped the campers getting ready to leave without telling me. I think… Everyone in the camp could tell I didn’t realize how fast time had gone.

I realized during breakfast time of the second to last day. While the quartermaster was serving up everyone’s breakfast, I read the schedule out loud for everyone, as always, and I saw, in Gwen’s handwriting, something along the lines of “departure preparations”. I read these words, several times, as if I didn’t understand them. And by the time everyone had caught on, I had broken into tears.

All the campers gathered around me in a group hug and I just couldn’t stop crying. It was one of those silent, hiccuping kind of crying, I was just staring into the distance and holding whichever kid was closest to my reach at the moment as tight as I could. Then I heard someone cough, the way someone would cough to catch someone else’s attention, and I looked in that direction, and saw it was Max. And I realized he hadn’t hugged me like the rest of the campers had? I wasn’t even particularly upset about that, because at that point I had understood that displays of affection were NOT Max’s thing. And yet, he coughed, and when he did everyone kind of stepped away from me, and he walked up to me, I was on my knees on the ground of the dining hall at that point. He stopped and we were eye to eye, and he was just scowling, and my silent sobs had stopped at that point? Then he just. He just opened his arms and wrapped them around me and burrowed his face in my chest and I just lost it. I was a sobbing mess and I held him so tight, and after a few seconds it was back to the group-hugging.

When I calmed down and came back to my senses the kids were making fun of me now. Well, not really, it was just playful teasing? Telling me things like “Really David? Did you not think about the end of the camp? Did it not hit you that we would all have to leave eventually? Did you not realize the temperature out dropping?” (I actually remember someone pointing out “Space Kid’s helmet gets all foggy in the evening now, how could you NOT realize summer is almost over?”)

They kind of had to push me around through the day so I could be active. I particularly recall Nikki taking my hand and leading me around because she couldn’t figure out how to close her suitcase, and it was because she had rolled all her clothes into a ball, and she didn’t actually know how to fold her clothes? So I taught her how to do it properly, and we managed to get all her stuff in and close the luggage without any trouble.

That day ended with a bonfire, and nobody actually went back to their tent that night. We all slept under the stars. I had a very light sleep and kept waking up, so I took care of keeping the fire alive, and putting more blankets on the campers who looked cold. Neil ended up with a mountain of blankets over him. Just, over a dozen blankets superposed.

The campers left early the morning after, and it took me all my willpower to not cry again as I watched them climb in the bus with the quartermaster and wave Gwen and I goodbye. My heart was at the bottom of my stomach, and the hand that wasn't used to wave back at them was held by Gwen – and she just squeezed it very tight every time I would shudder or show any signs of being about to cry. The goodbyes…. Lasted very long. Some of the kids were crying too, and I had to force myself to smile at them and reassure them. Tell them that we’d probably meet again! And they should definitely ask their parents to send them to camp again next summer. Camp Campbell probably wouldn’t exist anymore by then, but… I wasn’t going to tell them about that, right?

When the bus drove off, I just watched them. And when they were out of sight, I was still staring at the spot where I last saw them. I didn’t even notice I was crying again? But I was. And, Gwen too, apparently. Because what made me snap out of him was noticing her rubbing at her face from the corner of my eyes, and when I looked at her, her eyes were red and puffy.

I just patted her shoulder and we went off to clean up the camp. We stayed silent at first, but whenever one of us would find anything that reminded us of something that had happened during the summer, they’d call the other to show it and then we’d start talking about what happened and laughing about it.

A lot happened during the course of a summer, huh.

Halfway through the day, my phone went off with a text sound. I never had it on me during camp, but since the kids were away, and Mr Campbell couldn’t be there to scold me about it, who cared right?

I opened the text and found a message that said “So how are you holding up, David?”. Before I could answer, there was a second message, with a picture this time. A picture of Max, Neil, and Nikki, smiling and making faces at the camera, and I choked a sob. A third message said “This is Max btw”. When I asked him how he got my number, he explained that he had written it down when he had stolen it. Then, when I asked whose number it was, how he got a phone for himself, he explained that he used the bit of pocket money he still had for himself to buy a prepaid phone. Well, Nikki and Neil cashed in to help him get the phone, and he got himself some credit.

From that point on we regularly talked by texts. He wasn’t keen on phone calls, which I didn’t understand at first. I started paying for his credit, too, so he wouldn’t ruin himself with these expenses. He kept me up to date on his everyday life, but never mentioned his parents. Ever.

One day, several months after the end of the summer, I got a letter in the mail, but there was no sender’s address or information on the enveloppe. The handwriting for my name and address looked familiar, tho. I opened it, and was shocked when I realized it was from Daniel. It was an apology letter. He explained that, at the time where he had applied to be co-counselor, he was suffering from sever, unmedicated an undiagnosed psychosis, and after being sent to the hospital for his poisoning, he got sent to a mental institue to start an intensive therapy. He said he was medicated now, and that he was much more stable, though sometimes he did relapse in the form of extreme depressive episodes where he got self destructive instead of trying to take it out on other people. At the end of his letter, he gave me the address off his mental institute, in case I wanted to write him back. He also explicitly said that he wasn’t actually expecting an answer. “Still. Just in case.”

Quite obviously, my immediate reaction was to text Max about it. It went like this,

“You’re not planning to write him back are you” “Actually I was thinking about directly paying him a visit at his hospital?” “Are you fucking KIDDING ME” “I’m not! I hear those places get awfully lonely. Even more than regular hospitals!” “David this is the guy that tried to kill you. THIS IS THE GUY THAT TRIED TO KILL US ALL” “He said he was ill!” “He could just be LYING SO YOU’D DO EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE PLANNING TO DO” “I’m sure he’s not! His letter sounds very sincere” “You’re going to do it either way aren’t you” “That, I am!” “Fuck you David. Fuck you and fuck your gullible self. Don’t text me when you’ll be on the verge of death after he’ll have stabbed you in the neck. Bye”

Quite obviously, I didn’t listen to Max, and drove to Daniel’s hospital to visit him the following him. I had gotten him flowers, a primarily white bouquet that wished him a good recovery in the language of flowers. I recalled him being a very talented violin player, so I had grabbed my ukulele (I did play the ukulele instead of the guitar) as well, hoping he still had an interest in music.

I found him in his room, sitting on top of his bed and reading a book. He was surprised to see me, to say the least. He looked… Pale. Sickly pale. He had probably lost a few pounds. I imagined that was what severe poisoning did to someone.

We spent a lot of time chatting. He spent a lot of time apologizing. I noticed that the mannerism the kids had told me about, that I hadn’t noticed at the time, but had scared them (justly), was mostly gone. He would still crack his neck, sometimes. It looked like a nervous habit.

He noticed I had brought my ukulele, and I explained that if he wanted to, we could play together again, unless that was a bad memory for him and he would rather avoid that, in which case I was sorry, I should have thought this through a little more, that was rude of me and- he interrupted me saying that he would have loved, but he couldn’t. I asked if it was because he didn’t have his violin in the hospital. He said yes, partially, but also because even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to play. Then he held out his hands for the first time, and I hadn’t even noticed he was always holding them together and keeping them close to his body. They were shaking, very hard. He said it was the medication. But he preferred being stable, even if it meant he could possibly never play again. I told him I could play for him, if he wanted. Sure, an ukulele and a violin weren’t made for the same kind of melodies, so it wouldn’t be quite the same. He just smiled.

I started visiting him regularly after that, and Max ended up acknowledging after a while that I probably was right. If I had been one on one with him so often, he probably was sincere about not wanting to murder me anymore.

Holy macaroni, this post is obnoxiously long.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Riverdale prompt: Jug with a bug (badumtsh) staying at the Andrews'

(So this fic is a direct sequel to this prompt that I did! So that fic is extremely short because emeto/stomach bugs aren’t my strongest suit as in I can’t stand emeto in real life but I don’t mind writing it, which is slightly strange? so I decided this prompt would be perfect for a little follow up! Still quite short tho and also sappy, whoops.)

Archie woke up an hour later than he usually did that morning, at 8:30. When he first woke, his first instinct was to check over Jughead, to make sure he was okay, and while the boy was pale and sweat was dotted on his skin, he was alive.

His best friend had woken up to an awful bout of vomiting, and he honestly wasn’t surprised. It was only a matter of time before Jughead came down with something, seeing his immune system was shit and also his whole life seemed to be falling apart. It was only natural his body wasn’t taking too kindly to it.

He’d managed to console a panicked, anxious Jughead and clean him up. He had contemplated telling his dad but he put it off for the next morning, and now the morning had come, so Archie was about to do just that.

Archie got out of bed as quietly as he possibly could, tiptoeing out of the bedroom and down the stairs to Fred’s room. Upon his arrival he saw the door was open, and could hear some cooking from downstairs so he went into the kitchen to meet his father.

“Oh, morning Arch, Jug still not awake yet?” Fred asked idly, transferring some bacon onto a plate.

“Yeah..about Jug dad,” Archie sighed as he took a seat by the breakfast bar.

“He’s sick, dad, he woke up vomiting,” Archie said casually as he poured himself a glass of OJ. Jughead being ill was perfectly common for them. It was just like discussing this morning’s edition of The Register.

Fred shrugged, “About time, really. He’s held on pretty long for his standard; have you checked for a fever?”

Archie froze, awkwardly taking a sip of his OJ and swallowed, “uh, no.”

Fred groaned and facepalmed, “Archie..”

Archie laughed sheepishly and gave him an awkward grin.

Fred turned the stove off, grabbing a glass of water and went up the stairs, taking a little detour to the bathroom to collect the thermometer, and proceeded to Archie’s bedroom.

He opened the door as quietly as he could to ensure he didn’t worsen the headache he was positive Jughead had, and his heart broke at the sight of the Jones boy feverish, pale and shaking on the air mattress. Jughead was a sickly kid and this wasn’t uncommon, and one would presume Fred would’ve gotten used to it, but it still broke his heart every time.

He crouched down to Jughead’s height and pushed back sweat ridden black hair and felt his forehead, frowning at the intense heat coming from it.

“Awh, Jug..” Fred tutted and stroked the black hair softly.

Jughead let out a little cough, which then escalated into a harsher cough which caused him to wake. Upon waking up, an intense headache flooded his senses and he scrunched his face in pain.

He opened his eyes slowly to see a pair of caring eyes; full of concern and love, and for a second Jughead was convinced those brown eyes belonged to Archie’s but as his eyes began to focus, he realised he was wrong.

Fred Andrews stroked his hair soothingly and gently, his touch so soft and comforting, something that left him feeling whole. Jughead hadn’t realised how much he had needed this, this kind of fatherly, loving and warm touch.

Jughead wasn’t exactly the most affectionate, being aro/ace and all, but little pats on the back, little punches on the shoulder, little hair ruffling, a hug once in a while, a cuddle when he needed it..He never thought he would be touch starved. But in times like these, even he needed just a little reassuring nudge.

“M-Mr Andrews, I uh..I’m sorry..for all this mess..” Jughead croaked, bringing his arms down to his gurgling stomach so he could clutch it to try and reduce the pain he was feeling.

“Jug, you can’t help getting sick, especially with all this bullshit you’ve been going through,” Fred said sincerely, while getting the thermometer ready.

“No, Mr Andrews, not that. I’m sorry for..all this mess I’ve put your family through. For endangering Archie, who I know you love more than anything in the world, for my father and everything, for being a burden on your family, I know you’re really tight on money..and yet here I am giving you another mouth to feed, and hell, I’m more expensive than Archie because of all the money you’ve spent on hospital trips and medicine..I’m so sorry for my mess of–”

“Jughead!” Fred interrupted, cupping one hand around Jughead’s cheek firmly, but not in a way that seemed intimidating or angry, rather reassuring.

Fred looked at him, looking for words to say when he sighed.

“Look, Jughead..These past few days..I’ve really fucked up. You don’t deserve this, and I keep making it seem like you do, but you don’t. I can’t even imagine what it feels like to go through what you’re going through..all that pain and heart break..And I haven’t been helping either, huh? Making it seem like I don’t want you here. I do, Jughead, I was just scared. I was running away from it Jughead, Riverdale’s darkness..but I can’t keep running away from it. Running away does no good, all I can do..is maybe shed my light on others, people who don’t have the light, like you, and maybe..maybe then my light can reflect onto you and to others..So we can stop this darkness,” Fred said softly.

Jughead let the words in, smiling at the kindness of Fred, any trace of hurt from Fred’s actions disappearing. He was instantly redeemed. His words were inspiring and enlightening, and they meant a lot, but he was Jughead, and he did not easily give in to sappiness.

“Nice Nicholas Sparks monologue, Mr Andrews,” Jughead smirked.

But from the hopeful light in Jughead’s eyes, Fred knew that Jughead understood, and of course he would, Jughead was intelligent, beyond his years, and he found it fascinating how he could communicate with this boy on a deeper level. Despite his snarky humour, which sometimes he used as a defence mechanism, he knew that Jughead understood. His walls were just very tough; and understandably so, with how often the world chose to hurt him.

“Here, let’s take that temperature..” Fred announced, placing the thermometer into Jughead’s mouth, after Jughead took a sip of the water.

Jughead looked as if he was struggling to keep a cough in, and his eyes began to water, slightly heaving. He held a hand over his stomach, stomach clearly upset by the movement from the incoming coughs.

Jughead immediately whipped the thermometer out when it beeped, and began his little coughing fit, the little convulsion seriously upsetting his body, causing some sick to rise in his throat. Jughead groaned, clamping a hand over his mouth as he rushed to the bathroom as fast as he could.

Fred cringed as he heard his heaving and gagging, sighing. He looked at the thermometer, frowning at 100.8 on it. He whistled.

He was about to get up to help Jughead when he could faintly hear his son muttering comforting things. Assuming that he had already done so, Fred stayed put and proceeded to fix Archie’s bed so that Jughead could use it.

Archie returned with Jughead, arm strung around him in order to support him. He slowly set his best friend down on his bed.

Once the smaller boy was on his bed, he grabbed the blankets and snuggled up to them, as well as pinching the bridge of his nose. He clearly had a bad headache, worsened by his rushing to the bathroom.

Archie sighed, “I came up here with some aspirin, but now I’m not sure if he can keep it down?”

Fred sighed too, “I’m not too sure..I bet that headaches awful, Jug, but you could barley keep down a glass of water..”

Jughead groaned, burying his face into the pillow, “This could not get any worse..”

Fred swallowed, “Also, with the fever you’re running I’m not sure if that many blankets is good for you.”

Jughead groaned louder and started to whine, clinging to the blankets like a life line. Fred couldn’t even protest; the sight too heartbreaking. Jughead never complained when he was ill; always obeyed and tried to ward off his symptoms for as long as humanly possible. It was telltale sign that he really felt awful.

Archie seemed to be thinking the same thing because he exchanged a look with his father that was practically begging for Fred to let Jughead keep the blankets.

Fred sighed, “Fine, Jug. You can keep the blankets for now, but if the fever rises we’re getting rid of one, okay?”

Archie sat down next to his friend and felt his cheek, frowning. His frown worsened when he saw Jughead scrunching his face in pain.

“..and the aspirin, dad?”

“..give it ten minutes–might just be the rush from running to the bathroom. If it persists or gets worse, fine, give it to him. I’m going to go out to buy some medicine..”

“Mr Andrews, don’t–”

“We’re low anyway Jug, its good to pick up some more..”

“Exactly! You’re low because of me!”

“Do you need another Nicholas Sparks monologue?” Fred smirked.

Jughead shut up, and managed a tiny smile.

As Fred left, Archie turned and gave him a confused look, “Nicholas Sparks monologue?”

Jughead laughed, “Its nothing–I just figured out your dad would be a great teen sap romance icon..”

Archie made a face, “Eugh, you’re going to make me throw up..”

Jughead rolled his eyes, “At the moment, that’s my job.”

The two both laughed for a bit, and the banter continued for the next few minutes until Archie was sat next to him, with the laptop in front of him, watching Netflix, allowing them in that moment to be just kids.

[loverness-writes]

The Entities are Alive

“I misplaced my mic pack. I don’t remember where I set it down from yesterday.”

“Mark, you don’t even remember where you put your keys half the time,” was your quiet reply.

He looked at you with some semblance of hope stemming from the presence of a new set of eyes to help in the search. With a sigh, you set your stuff down and began looking around.

At the back of the office, you found a door ajar that you previously hadn’t noticed opened before. Upon pushing it further, it dawned on you that it was an extension of the office – instead of being a storage room that Kathryn always insisted it was. You walked further; curiosity leading your brain to no other action.

The ‘storage room’ seemed outfitted more as an apartment than as anything else. A small kitchen was found behind one door and a little living room with couches and a mounted TV was splayed out in front of the main space. Through the living room, there was a hallway housing three rooms on either side and a window at the end. Right before the window however, was a frosted glass door that seemed to lead into a conference room.

Not seeing the mic pack in plain sight, you began pawing through the living room – overturning couch cushions and looking under tables. After turning your back to sift through a pile of random things on the entertainment table, you suddenly felt the mood of the room seem to shift. The nearby lamps appeared to dim slightly and there became an increasingly heavy feeling that a pair of eyes were boring into your back. You quickly straightened up only to be met with the TV smacking you on the top of your head. That’ll probably bruise.

“Very funny Mark, but we’re not going to be able to start on time if we can’t find this-”

As you rubbed your head gingerly and turned around, your eyes locked with those of a man who looked like Mark… but his skin was paler, his expression was more bitter, and his posture was stiffer. He was also sharply dressed in a suit – missing only his tie and handkerchief. After a start, you realized you were looking Darkiplier in the face. His depiction was in videos and fanart often enough.

But how was that possible? Darkiplier is an idea. A project that has only been able to exist through intense hours of editing. All Darkiplier is is a show put on by Mark – an act through which he can create and express ideas or to rile up fans. He can’t possibly exist in reality.

And yet here he was – staring you in the face from across the room. Slowly, he stalked closer; keeping his pace even and his eyes unwavering from yours. He stopped just about 10 feet away with an unreadable expression across his features.

“Can I help you?,” his tone dripping with malice.

Hostility.

That was the expression on his face. You’d never seen Mark make that expression before. You hoped to never see it again.

You cleared your throat; hoping you were just hallucinating from the bruise. “I apologize for intruding but I am looking for a component to Mark’s mic pack. I-It seems to not be in the main office and there’s a lives-stream going up in about…half an hour.” You swallowed hard as Dark’s face switched from confusion back to hostility.

“Who are you?,” he drawled.

“OH. H-how r-rude of me.” You introduced yourself before shakily stating “L-like I said, if I’m intruding, I’ll be m-more than happy t-to-”

“Why are you here?,” he continued; cutting you off.

“Well…L-like I said before, I-I’m just looking for a piece of lost sound equipment.”

“No. Why are you in this office?,” he asked with slight curiosity, a tinge of perplexity seemed to pass over his face before it disappeared.

Confusion washed over you. If Darkiplier did truly reside in this office, how did he not know about you? It wasn’t as if you’d been shut in a closet for the past month. Then it hit you like a truck. The “Egos” were supposedly fueled by the fans. The more attention the fans gave Mark’s creations, the more he felt inspired to include them or improve them over videos or projects. If they had for some reason become reality, they would still be fueled by this attention, right?

But the fans didn’t know who you were. They didn’t even know you existed. And if the fans didn’t know, why would Dark or any other figment come to life? It wasn’t as if Mark kept them up-to-date on his decisions. You’d never even heard of them in this office until today.

Your hands began to shake as you suddenly stammered out, “I-I work in this office. For Mark. I work for Mark.”

Darkiplier stepped closer, stitching together the gap between the two of you. “And what exactly do you DO for the “great” Markiplier?” His tone dripped with maliciousness as he loomed over you. His eyes narrowed.

The door connecting the living room to the hallway suddenly opened and outstepped Mark in orange sunglasses, jeans, and a black tank-top. No…Mark was in a merch t-shirt and red jeans this morning.

“Hey, Darky dude! Who’s that?”

“Not now, Bing.” It was a short impulse project, despite the stupidity of the idea, but a project just the same

Bing...Bingiplier? Another idea of Mark’s? You must’ve hit your head harder on that TV than previously thought. ‘Bing’ bounded over to your face – looking with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

“What’re they doin’ here?”

“I’m trying to find that out,” Darkiplier said through gritted teeth. Both you and Bing flinched at his tone.

“HEY! No one told me we had guests!”

The three of you turned around to see a third Mark in pink suspenders, a yellow button-up, and a bubblegum pink mustache walk out from the hallway as well. Warfstache. Wilford Warfstache. Now there was deep trouble. Dream or not, you were staring at the face of a sociopathic, psychopathic, unpredictable killer. Your face began to pale even more once he brought out a butterfly knife from his pocket – twirling it in his hand as he bounced towards the trio of people. The scent of bubblegum sickly spreading across the room.

Wilford pointed his knife at Darkiplier’s face; you watched the pair reproachfully.

“Darky, why don’t you ever tell me when we have company?”

Darkiplier simply rolled his eyes – seeming to completely ignore the knife that was dangerously close to his chin and throat. His attention focused back on you. “This has gone on long enough.”

Like a light switch, the lamps turned off and the room seemed to drip with darkness. The only light was through the hallway and back out the door you came; however they seemed miles away. Your heartbeat quickened as whispers began to surround you, blanketing out any other sounds. Your knees felt weak and you crossed your arms to keep your hands from shaking.

Darkiplier’s laugh sounded somewhere in front of you but you couldn’t see anything. Straining your eyes, you tried to adjust to the darkness but to no avail. It was suffocating.

You heard your name be called but couldn’t pinpoint from where. The whispers grew louder and an occasional scream was heard faintly in the distance. Then, clearer, you heard a muffled shout through the darkness.

“DARK, STOP.”

Suddenly, you were back in the living room with the lights back on as if nothing happened. You sank to the floor, your knees finally giving in as you gasped straining for air. Your whole body was uncontrollably shaking as if it was dunked in a pool of ice water.

“Dark, what the fuck are you doing?!”

You looked behind you to see Mark – the real Mark – standing in the doorway, discovered mic pack in hand.

“I’m merely protecting my home,” he retorted.

“Hey, Mark! W-Who’s this dude?” Bing seemed both shaken at the lingering feeling of darkness and excited at seeing Mark this morning.

Wilford was nowhere to be seen.

“Part of the Team so I strongly suggest you not kill them.” Mark’s tone sounded more like a command than a suggestion. You looked up to see his face, which could only rival rage game videos. Quickly softening however, he reached down and helped you up onto your feet; careful to support some weight as you gave out a shaky breath.

“I understand your confusion you two, and so we’ll all have a meeting after the livestream where you can ask whatever. But right now, we need to go finish set up.” He turned around to lead you back to the main office.

“Excuse me, but this is more pressing at the moment.” Darkiplier’s words lashed out like a knife towards Mark’s back.

“After the livestream,” was Mark’s unwavering reply as he helped you along – careful to close the door again – and helped you collapse into an office chair next to Kathryn at the soundboard and Amy behind the main camera who both looked at you with a knowing sense of worry. Mark shook his head as he took his place next to Ethan and Tyler; hoping for the sake of everyone that the tornado of the afternoon to come will push the events of the morning away until much later.

_______________________________________________

This is only a small part of a large writing exercise I’ve been working on the past several months to see if I can write a full story in second-person narrative. I probably won’t finish this, as it is simply a writing exercise. But I wanted to post some tidbits to showcase some of what I’m proud of. Sorry if it comes off as not making sense.

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