#right before george died i thought i should check his stream to see what he's up to

[jellicatt]

jorgito died :((

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Cancelled-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Surprise bitch. Weren’t we expecting for me to release mcyt fanfics soon? If I didn’t tag my usual @‘s it’s because idk if you’d like to be tagged for mcyt content.

Pronouns: she/her

Word Count: 2.3k+

_________________

"You're so harsh on him!" Her hands sat on the keyboard, staring at the green human that stood on Y/n's computer screen.

She needed to be careful. While this was a heated moment, she couldn't let herself get too loud for multiple reasons. If she got too loud, Dream's stream viewers would be able to tell she was in the next room or they would just receive noise complaints from their neighbors.

"No Y/n! You're too soft on him! He needs to learn that he can't get away with everything. You're setting him up for failure." As the h/c girl listened to her roommate speak, she had to remind herself over and over again; 'This wasn't real.' Dream was mad, not Clay.

This had all been arranged as roleplay. Y/n would be leaving in a few days to go visit some of her family for a reunion, so Wilbur had been the one to think up the brilliant idea of what was playing out now; an argument between Y/n and Dream. The plan was to have Y/n get so upset she didn't log onto the SMP for the next few days, only to come back with a master plan to backstab Dream.

At first, Clay wasn't really on board with the thought of him getting angry at Y/n. They had been together for a little over a year, there wasn't a single moment they had gotten upset with one another. But surprisingly, Y/n had been the one to convince Clay it was a good idea.

The fans knew Dream and Y/n had a close friendship, Dream had always been so protective of her. But when this was going down, they didn't know how to act.

Every time Y/n would glance at her chat, she'd see thousands of comments rising up as new ones appeared. Comment after comment, it looked like the fans were shocked by the way this stream was turning out.

"I'm not setting him up for anything! He's a kid, Dream!" Y/n glanced from the chat,  back at the screen showing her PC game. Standing on her screen was Dream and Tommyinnit, she had accompanied Dream to visit Tommy.

"You're just babying him! 'He's a kid!' Well, he needs to learn to grow up eventually," his voice had been filled with such spite. It felt weird to hear Clay speaking to her like this in such a tone.

For a moment, she stared at the green man before a short scoff escaped her lips. "I can't believe you." With that, Y/n had pressed a few keys, turning her character towards the nether portal a couple of yards away. Before Dream had gotten the chance to speak again, Y/n began to move away.

"Y/n! Come back here!"

She flicked a few buttons, taking a moment to look behind her character to see Dream following. Good, everything was going according to plan. Within the next few minutes, she'd be able to log off and she'd be on vacation for the next few days.

The h/c girl ignored the green man as she stepped through the portal, taking her to Minecraft's version of hell. Almost done, she just needed to find a good spot to stop as she listened to Dream continue to speak.

"You can't keep ignoring me! You know I'm right in this. You know you can't keep defending Tommy. You know Tommy is driving a wedge between us-"

Perfect. Y/n had stopped just on the edge of a bridge, molten lava sat feet below them. If she fell, she'd surely die. "No."

"No?" Dream was a bit surprised to hear Y/n cut him off, but he stayed silent as he was prepared to listen to what she had to say.

"No. No more. I don't wanna hear you blame Tommy for us breaking apart. I want you to listen to me. You've been acting like much more of a dick than usual and I hate it. I despise it. You've changed for the worst because you think you can step on everyone. At this point, everyone fears to tell you the truth-except me. I'll be a hundred percent honest with you, you've been so egotistical, it's really pissed me off. This is your fault, Dream. Not Tommy's. You exiled a child for pulling a prank on a vacation house! Not even George's real house!"

"But-"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done, but I don't wanna hear you bullshit me. So shut the fuck up."

A moment of silence passed between them as Y/n stared at her screen. Just a few more steps.

And within seconds, Dream had pulled out his netherite sword. With one hit, she was falling back into lava. Y/n glanced at her chat, a look of shock on her face as she read over what a few comments said. A moment of silent tension had passed before Y/n had finally spoken up, removing her from the voice chat she was in.

"Alright guys, I guess that's enough for the day. I'll see you all... later." With that, she had clicked a few buttons, raiding Dream's live-stream as she ended hers.

For the next 20 to 30 minutes, Y/n knew Clay would be busy streaming. So she had decided to take a bit of time to wind down and think to herself.

Get a glass of water.

'Are the fans harassing him in his twitch chat?'

Sit down on the living room couch.

'The SMP fans were always so protective of me.'

Pet Patches.

'Was I too much when I snapped at him?'

It didn't seem like 30 minutes had passed when Clay had walked out of his streaming room, only to find Y/n on the couch with Patches in her lap. "Hey, N/n." "Oh, your stream is already over?" Y/n smiled, pulling herself out of her thoughts as she scoot over, giving Clay room to take a seat right by her.

"Yeah, did you lose track of time or something?"

"I must've. How did the chat react after I 'died'?" She smiled up at her boyfriend as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his embrace.

"Everyone was filled with joy that you died."-Y/n playfully swatted at him. "Okay, okay! I got a few chat messages of people bashing me for it, but it's fine."

"Well, it's a good thing the chat wasn't completely littered with hate. How was it after my raid?"

"Honestly, not that bad as you expect. Like I said, just a few comments. Nothing bad, I just ignored it." Clay placed a hand on Patches's head, gently scratching her, followed by the animal beginning to purr.

"Good to hear, anyways... I'm not ready to pack. Do you think we can procrastinate?" The h/c girl let out a huff leaning against her boyfriend. "How?"

"I was thinking a bit of movie binging, cuddling, and ordering dinner?" A cheeky smile spread on her face as she spoke.

"It's like you read my mind."

The couple had made it through three movies, by now it was later at night. The sun had set and they had already door dashed some food. By now they were in the middle of watching 'The Empire Strikes Back.'

'I love you.' 'I know.'

The iconic moment between Hans and Leia had been interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone buzzing. "Why is George calling?"

"What?" Y/n was a bit curious herself. Considering the timezones, George should be asleep right now. Pausing the TV, she turned her attention to her boyfriend's phone.

"Hey Clay."

"What's up, George? Isn't it like early in the morning for you?" Clay raised a brow, moving his phone so Y/n would be able to see George as well.

"Yeah, I had to stay up to fix a YouTube video I need to get out today. I was about to go to bed and I checked Twitter-"

"Oh no." Clay made a short joke, only to be cut off by his friend.

"I don't know if it's trending for you in America, but you might as well look."

"What's going on?" He swiped up, taking him to his home screen so he could click on the little blue bird app. Y/n had grabbed her phone from the coffee table, opening up the app as well. "#Cancel Dream... #Y/n... #Dream SMP"

"Is... is Clay getting canceled for killing me in Minecraft?" Y/n scrolled through the tweets involving the hashtag 'Y/n.' She could see plenty of people defending her, but making it much bigger of a problem than it actually was.

"Oh, hey Y/n. But yeah, he is." George chuckled awkwardly, scrolling through his Twitter app as well.

"This is so fucking stupid."

"It really is. So we might as well get this cleared up with the fans as soon as possible. Do you want me to tweet something, or do you want to?" Y/n looked up at her boyfriend, it looked like he was thinking.

"Yeah, I'll tweet it. Don't worry about this, Y/n."

"Alright, whatever you say," she replied, pulling a blanket over her as she waited for Clay to finish typing his response.

"Here's what I'm gonna say: 'I can't believe you guys actually think me and @(y/n) are in an actual fight in real life. We have been good friends since forever, the fight was only roleplay. I love that you guys are so protective of Y/n, but no one's actually upset.' How's that sound?"

"I think that's good," George hummed softly.

"Yeah, I doubt you'll stay 'canceled' once you've explained to them it was all part of the SMP lore." The h/c girl smiled up at her boyfriend with a small nod.

"Alright, I'm gonna post it. George, I think you should go to bed because you're half asleep already."

Y/n turned, looking at her boyfriend's iPhone. "Go to sleep, Gogy!"

"Alright, alright... I'll talk to you guys later." The call had ended with Clay and Y/n saying goodbye to their friend while George simply yawned to them as a response.

As soon as the call was over, Clay looked at the response to his tweet. It didn't seem to be going too well. There had been a few fans who understood what was going on and responded with a paragraph as an apology for the misunderstanding. But most replies had been telling Clay he was bullshitting the fans or that he wasn't being honest.

"I'm sorry, Clay," his girlfriend had huffed as she read through the responses to his tweet.

"Honestly I'm just a bit pissed off. Literally, any time someone tries to 'cancel' me, it's over something stupid. I'm not a bad guy, it just feels like some people just don't want to see me succeed." Clay had excused himself to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

It hurt Y/n to hear how upset her boyfriend was. He never got too upset over things, but seemed to take a small toll on him. "Hold on. Let me say something." The h/c girl couldn't be asked to post multiple tweets of her response to hate sent towards Clay over the internet. So what was better than a short video that could be posted to the blue bird app?

"Um, hey guys. I'd just like to make this quick. Stop sending hate towards Dream. The fight was roleplay and nothing more. I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days so Wilbur thought of a good idea to help build SMP lore with me and Dream and we both agreed to the argument. Now stop sending the green man hate, or I'll commit war crimes or something-"

Y/n had been interrupted by the sound of Clay letting out a small giggle. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, just keep going with your video."

"Whatever, I'm cool. No matter what Dream says. Anyways, I'll speak to you all later." Y/n had hit the red button again, ending her video. Within seconds, the video had been uploaded to her Twitter account.

Placing her phone back down on the table, Y/n approached her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I'm really sorry about the hate, Clay. I love you."

"Don't apologize for something you can't control. I love you more." The brunette held his partner close, accepting her hug. Y/n always loved his hugs, she always felt so safe in his embrace.

The rest of the night had been spent with more cuddling and more Star Wars movies. Hours had passed before Y/n had even thought about the Twitter situation again. But for some reason, she had decided to look at the app again tonight.

It was 2 in the morning by now, Clay was half asleep. His head laid in the h/c girl's lap as she brushed a hand through his hair, her free hand opening up her Twitter app once again.

It had been a bit of a surprise to see a couple of trending hashtags had changed so quickly. What was trending now was #Dream, #Y/n,#(ship name), and #Dream's Laugh. This had to be about Y/n's short clip she posted. And by the looks of it, people had stopped acting so harsh towards Clay. But instead, they had decided to focus on the fact Dream and Y/n were hanging out together. Not to mention the fact Dream and let out a stupid little giggle because of Y/n. People had been apologizing to him through Twitter for being so hard on him.

"Babe."

"Hm?" Clay mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Pretty much everyone is apologizing to you over Twitter for being hardasses."

"Hm, that's good to hear."

"You're really tired, huh?" Y/n paused her scrolling to look down at her boyfriend.

"Yeah," He continued to mumble, followed by a short yawn.

"Alright, time for bed, babe." Y/n smiled to herself, beginning to carefully move away from Clay. "I can pack tomorrow and we can laugh over the stupid bird app tomorrow after you've gotten a good amount of sleep."

"I still can't believe Twitter tried canceling me over roleplay."

"I can't believe you got uncancelled by shippers."

Taglist: @notphilosopherstudentblog

[fanficbitch]

In Another Life // After Effects

November 2009

Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

As soon as the car pulled up to Hotch’s house, I ran to find everyone else. When I got there, Morgan was holding Hotch as tears streamed from his eyes. Foyet lays in front of him, I assume dead. 

Suddenly, Hotch gets up and rushes up the stairs. We all follow him to his old office. At first, I don’t see the point. That is until Hotch opens the bench to reveal Jack inside. He holds him tightly for a moment, but I can tell Hotch has other problems to deal with.

“Hey Jack,” I say, grabbing his attention. “Let’s go outside, okay?”

Hotch gives Jack one final squeeze, then Jack takes my hand. I pick him up and carry him down the stairs. I get him out as quickly as possible then set him down in one of the ambulances. Even if nothing happened, he still needs to be examined.

“Y/N,” he whimpers and holds out his hand. I climb into the ambulance and holds his hand.

“It’s okay,” I say and give his hand a squeeze. The exam is over quickly and Jack is fine, thankfully. We climb out of the ambulance and I’m not really sure what to do next. It’s not like we can go back inside and coroner’s van is pulling up. I squat down to Jack’s height. “Jack, is there a park nearby?” I ask and he nods then points down the street. “Okay, let’s go then,” I say then take his hand.

Once we get down the street a little bit, it’s easy to find the park. There’s no one there which probably for the best considering what is going down a block over. “Can I swing?” he asks.

“Yeah, do you want me to push you?” I ask and he nods. Jack situates himself on the swing and I begin to push him. He’s quiet for a few minutes, but the craziness of what just happened must’ve gotten to him. 

“Y/N,” he says softly.

“Yes buddy?”

“What happened to Mommy?” he asks. I pause because I don’t know if I should be the one answering this question. Haley probably had a prepared statement just in case something happened to Hotch. But, Hotch probably hasn’t thought about what he would say if Haley died. The situation seems so unrealistic, but here we are. 

“I don’t know buddy,” I say. That’s the truth. I don’t know for sure what happened to Haley. Do I have an idea? Yes. But Jack needs to hear that information from his dad.

“What happened to George?” Jack asks and I stop pushing him. I wait for the swing to stop, and when it does, I sit down in front of him. 

“Jack, you know how George is a bad guy?” I ask and he nods. “And you know how your daddy always gets the bad guys?”

That cause him to smile with a nod. “Well, your daddy got the bad guy.”

Jack’s smile fades quickly. “Is George dead?”

“Yeah, he is buddy,” I say. Although I don’t feel like I am qualified enough to answer anymore of his questions, I don’t want to leave him in the dark. “Do you have any more questions?”

“Is Daddy okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, your daddy is just fine.”

“Can I see him?” Jack asks and I hold out my hand.

“Let’s go see,” I say. Jack hops off the swing and puts both his hands in the air. That’s his signal that he wants to be carried. 

I carry Jack all the way back to the house. Luckily, by the time we get there a lot of the cars have left. Although there are still a few police cars and one ambulance, which Hotch is sitting in the back of. Once we get close enough, I warn Jack. “Jack, I think there’s someone who wants to see you.”

Jack turns around, sees his dad, then squirms out of my arms. I let him go and he runs and jumps into Hotch’s lap. I stand back and let them have a moment. 

When I walk up to them, I notice that all the blood is cleaned off Hotch and he’s wearing new clothes. “Thanks for taking care of him,” Hotch says. 

“Of course, I’ll do anything you need,” I say and he pauses. 

“There is another thing,” he says slowly. “I have to get somethings in order with…” he says then trails off. “Would you mind taking him for the night?”

“Yeah, I can,” I tell him.

“Would you mind grabbing some of his things and the carseat out of Haley’s-, out of the car?” Hotch asks.

“Yes, I’ll be right back,” I say then walk up the path to the house. People are still in and out of there, but I notice Foyet’s body is gone. I need to focus up. 

I run upstairs and grab a Thomas backpack then grab a new pair of day clothes and pajamas. I also brought some books just in case he wanted to read. He loves reading. On the way out I grab his carseat.

When I get back outside, Hotch is still holding Jack. “Do you guys need a little more time?” I ask.

“No,” Hotch whispers. “I think it’s best that he gets away from here,” he says then hands me Jack. 

“Bye Daddy,” Jack murmurs against my shoulder.

“Bye buddy,” Hotch smiles.

“Where are we going?” Jack asks once we get a few feet away from his dad. 

“You’re going to sleep over at my house. Doesn’t that sound fun?” I ask and Jack seems genuinely excited.

“Yeah!” he shouts. “Can we have pizza?”

“Sure, we can do whatever you want,” I say as I lock his carseat into the back of the SUV. I turn around to see Jack with the biggest smile on his face and I think that maybe everything will be okay after all.

                                                 **********

Jack was easy peasy tonight despite never having been to my apartment before. I first gave him a little tour, emphasis on little, ordered pizza and gave him a bath. No word for Hotch though. I’m not surprised though, there has to be a lot to deal with.

“Okay Jack, time for bed,” I tell him as he sits on the couch. He lets out a groan but gets up anyway. I follow him down the hallway because he already seems to know where he’s going. He pushes open the door to my room, then stops.

“Is this my bed?” Jack asks.

“Well, it’s actually my bed. But tonight you’re sleeping in it,” I say as I pick him up and set him in the middle of the bed. “Do you want a story tonight?” I ask and he shakes his head left and right. “Okay then get under the covers,” I say. Although, I can see that he’s thinking something. Once he gets under the blankets he opens his mouth.

“Can I have a back rub?” he murmurs. “Mommy always gives me a back rub.”

“Sure,” I say as I climb into bed with him. Jack lays on his left side, allowing me to run my right hand up and down his back. I can feel his little body getting more and more relaxed until I’m sure he’s asleep.

I slowly climb out of bed and turn out the light. But a little voice draws me back. “Y/N,” Jack whimpers.

“Yeah buddy?” I ask from the doorway.

“I’m scared,” he says.

“How can I fix that?”

“Sleepover?” he asks. I’m slightly confused because I thought we were already having a sleepover. But I quickly realize he means stay in the bed with him.

“Oh, do you want me to sleep in here with you?”

“Yes, please,” he whimpers.

“Okay bud,” I say then get back into the bed and under the covers.

                                                  **********

Jack wakes me up pretty early and basically begs for pancakes. So I make him pancakes. When I checked my phone, I saw that Hotch said he would be by in the morning to get Jack. Now, we sit at my tiny table and eat breakfast. “Do you like them?” I ask and Jack shrugs. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re not as good as daddy’s,” he says.

“What makes his pancakes better than mine?”

“He puts chocolate chips in them,” Jack smiles. 

“Well, I can’t beat that,” I say as I finish my food. We sit in silence until it is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Oh, I know who that is,” I say as I get up to answer it. I open the door and see Hotch in the same clothes he was in yesterday, but I don’t blame him. “Hey,” I say softly.

“Hi,” he says. Once Jack hears his dad he comes running from the table.

“Daddy!” Jack yells as he runs and jumps into Hotch’s arms.

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you,” Hotch says as Jack burrows into his shoulder. “How was everything?”

“He was great,” I say then lower my voice. “He had some questions about yesterday.”

Hotch nods. “I assumed he would,” he says then turns to Jack. “We’re going to have a daddy and Jack day.”

“Yay!” Jack yells. I turn around to grab Jack’s backpack then hand it to Hotch. I look back at him and feel like I should say something meaningful and heartfelt, but my mind is black.

“Hotch,” in a quiet voice is all that I can get out. 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he says then disappears from my doorway.

[sadlysober]

like to watch you suffer

Dream Team roomates x gn!reader Summary: Youre playing a scary game and your roommates come in to laugh at you support you. Warnings: swearing, shitty description of bloody/creepy things. lmk when you find any! A/N: just watched Tommy’s fnaf stream and i died. If you have any tips, requests or ideas, feel free to send them in :)

Starting up Twitch with hesitation as you check your subscriber count one last time to be sure. You reached your subgoal on your last stream and promised the chat to play a spooky game. Playing mostly family friendly games and usually with a group of friends, you weren’t exactly excited to be playing 2017′s Resident Evil 7. Clips from Jack and Felix only made you dread this moment even more. Appearantly your chat loves seeing you scared shitless.

You start your stream as you normally would: greating the chat, answering some dono’s. “I actually hate you guys for making me do this. But we’re gonna try it anyways. I have a slight idea what’s coming and am mentally not prepared, so let’s see how long I will last before crapping my pants.” You force a smile at your camera and start the game.

The first hour was doable, a couple of jumpscares and some bloody stuff. A few of the jumpscares made you squeal, while the disgusting cutscenes made you want to throw up. Losing your focus on the game as you read some of the dono’s. A lot of them were about the game and people wishing you a good stream. A couple of questions about the Dream Team popped up. “What is George up to? I think he might be streaming as well I’m not -” The loud noise in your headphones, accompanied by a bloody faces canabal with a chainsaw made you shriek, followed by a ton of swear words and you taking of your headphones, rolling your chair away from your desk.

As you sit a couple of feet away from your desk you hear a door closing and footsteps in the hallway. You open your door and call out. “Gogy?” Your chat can’t hear the boy answering you. “You busy? No? Want to join my suffering? Yeah ofcourse you do, bring a chair!” The dark haired boy walks into your room rolling his chair in, a tad too excited. Your chat went insane, seeing him come through the door.

“You already died? Damn, N/N.” He teased, sitting down next to you. His legs propped up on his chair, face popping in and out of the frame.

“Would you like to try, Gogy?” You mimicked his accent, causing George to lean back into his chair. “Alright, goodluck not dying.” He said in the saltiest voice he could. You put your headphones back on, plugging in a second pair for George and handing him the headphones. You continue playing the game, almost getting used to the disgustingness of the house.

“N/N, I have to agree with chat, seeing you being a scaredy cat is hilarious.” In the meantime you’re turning into Y/N “I am going to shit myself” Y/L/N. George just laughs at you while hanging out with the chat. Yet he too flinches at the jumpscares. “Guys, the reason you can’t see George right now is because he is a big pussy.” You laugh, recieving a soft punch to your arm in return.

Another half hour of you and George sitting on the edges of your chairs until Nick decides to have some fun. After hearing you yell a couple of times he’d tune into your stream. He waited for the right moment; you had just finished a cut scene and was wandering though the dark house that felt like a maze. The squeaky sound of the door opening made you lean back in your chair a bit more, as if something or someone would jump out of the room behind it.

The door behind you flew open with a loud bang, causing you and George to yielp. Followed by another jumpscare in the game. “Fuck you Sapnap, you little shit cunt fuck you-” You utter under your breath as you try your best not to die in game.

“Sapnap!” George whined. “What? I heard there was a party.” The boy stood in your doorframe, a cheeky grin covering his face. “Can I join?” He somewhat asked, already pulling out a chair to sit down besides you.

“Fine, but no more messing around or I’ll end the fucking stream guys.” Your chat excitedly greated him. Spamming you there will be a savepoint in a bit. “Alright guys I’m just gonna go for one more savepoint, if i don’t die from adrenaline overdose by then.”

The boys on your sides bickered while you were trying to find the way out. “Go left.” Nick hinted. “Don’t listen to him, N/N.” George told you. They were like some twisted kind of devil/angel pair on your shoulders. “Have you played this before Gogy?” Nick spat, looking over to the boy on the other side of you. “No, but they came from-” He tried to defend himself, before getting cut off. “That’s what I thought, leave it to the pro then.” 

Trusting Nick’s gut you followed his instruction and went left. The sound of your footsteps are accompanied by heavy breathing, you look around with the little light you have. When you don’t immediatly die and thank Nick for the advice. A loud noice makes you turn around as you watch some creepy dolls fall down. “The sounds are honestly the creepiest thing about this game.” You say, continuing to walk around the room, looking for clues. Nick watches you, unbothered by the scary sounds as he doesn’t have any headphones on. “Chat why do you keep spamming ‘DEATH’? I’m not dying, I am clearly a pro.” You say proudly, not being as scared and jumpy as you had been. Yet the grin appearing on Nick’s face is telling you you should be. Moments later it became clear why. A loud screech, followed by one of the residents running towards you holding an axe and piercing the weapon through your chest.

The boy next to you dies of laughter, panting as he tries to catch his breath. “Your face- oh my god you face.” You shake your head at the boy. “Why did I even trust you in the first place. I thought you knew where the exit was.” You say, a tiny bit dissapointed in yourself for falling for it, but also laughing as George almost falls out of his chair from laughter. “Oh, but I do know where the exit is.” Nick teases. You look the boy dead in the eye and start debating whether or not to continue the game.

“100 subs and they’ll continue.” George tells your chat. “Guys, no-” It only took a couple of seconds until the counter was halfway there.

dreamwastaken has gifted 50 subs: go until the next savepoint

"Let’s go, N/N, you heard the big man.” You look straight into your camera and sigh. Alt-tabbing to swearword at Clay on Discord before going back to the game. “I hate every single one of those 50 subs and Dream. One more savepoint and that’s it!” 

George nudges your arm, asking if Clay can join your little scary party. “Do I really need more critisism? What do we think chat? Spam 1 if you want Dream here, 2 if you don’t.” The chats start pouring in. “No, you’re supposed to spam 2 guys! Why aren’t you on my side. Argh, fine.” You shut your camera off and wait for Clay to come in. “No face reveal today guys.” George comments on your chat going crazy.

“You can sit on my lap Dream.” Nick said jokingly, tapping his lap. “I’d rather sit on George’s.” “No way.” The boys bicker back and forth. 

“Dream, get out of the frame I’m turning my camera back on.” The tall guy settles on your bed, being able to see your monitor and the two guys next to you.

“Why do you keep dying, N/N?” He teases as you respawn in game.

“Think you can do better?” You ask, taking a right this time.

“I know I can.” You hear him mutter from the bed behind you.

You press pause, taking your hand of the controller. “Alright guys, you're all talk, why don’t you give it a try huh.”

“Cause we like watching you suffer.” Clay answers. You look over to your roommates, each and every one of them grinning at you.

With a loud sigh you continue playing the game, causing a lot of giggles and teasing as you almost have a heart attack. Nick and Clay keep their commentary coming as George mainly focusses on your chat. You get to the savepoint and finally end the stream.

Turning around in your chair so you face Clay. “I really hate you guys, that was the scariest shit I’ve ever played.”

George rests his arm on your shoulder. “No you don’t.”

“You love us.” Nick adds.

[firefly464]

The Gilded Cage - Chapter 3

I felt like you guys could use some nice fluff after yesterday, so we zoomed to get this chapter out. Also, oh my god i have so many ideas im so excited ahahahahah

ALSO!! IMPORTANT NOTICE!!! The first section of Chapter 5 of The Real World has been edited slightly. I recommend you go back and reread it :)

Written in collaboration with @i-have-this-now :D

Thank you @rivys for beta reading, editing, and writing :D

Master Post

First -  Previous - Next

~~~

“Alright then, Eret. Talk to me.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. “George, it’s all…” he trailed off, unable to explain exactly what he was thinking. “What… what happened to me?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

George scoffed. “Did you not hear me when I said you got shot? Did you miss that bit?”

Bad hit him lightly on the arm. “George! That’s not how you support a friend through a trying time!”

“What?! I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Eret, here.” Bad moved himself over on the bed to sit right next to Eret. “We found you passed out in the woods with an arrow sticking out of your arm, so we brought you back here and patched you up.”

“You also were nearly frozen to death. Honestly, I think the reason you didn’t bleed out sooner is because the blood froze over or… something.” George shrugged, a little too nonchalant for Eret’s tastes. “I dunno, I’m not a doctor.”

Bad frowned. “That reminds me… Why were you even out there without a coat? It’s the middle of winter!” 

“I- what?” Eret asked, caught off guard by the question. Hadn’t it just been mid summer? He shook his head. He was in some sort of fucked up world, why was he surprised by a change in seasons? 

Even so, it made sense. It explained why he had passed out in the first place. After all, running through the woods in the dead of winter without anything to protect him from the cold was a surefire way to give himself hypothermia. Thinking back on it, it was surprising that he managed to last as long as he did. Any longer, and he very likely would have died. 

George cleared his throat, dragging Eret back to the present. He realized that his friends were looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “I uh…” He stammered, trying to come up with a decent excuse. “I didn’t exactly have time to grab a jacket. They were kinda chasing me out…” 

George’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Bad’s let out a small gasp of surprise as he realized what Eret meant. He quickly stood, trying to take the heat off his friend. “Well, you don’t need to worry about them now!” he exclaimed, trying to hint to George that now wasn’t the time. “Here, how about we get you situated? Do you want something to drink?”

Eret stared numbly up at him. “Why are you being so… nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends,” Bad stated as though it were fact. “And you deserve it. Come on, I’ll make some cookies, and you can rest while I do that, okay? George, give him your jacket.”

“What?!” He sputtered. “Bad, I’m not giving him my--”

“Give it.” Something in Bad’s eyes must have made George decide to change his mind right then. The man nodded and grabbed a coat from a nearby hanger and chucked it over to Eret. 

Almost instinctively, Eret tried to raise his arm to swat away the incoming coat. Pain tore through him, causing him to let out a small gasp. 

“Hey, careful! You don’t want to tear your stitches,” Bad said quickly, rushing to check that the stitches were undamaged. “You’re still healing.”

Eret only watched as his friend undid the bandages that wrapped around his bicep, trying not to wince. His eyes widened when he saw the torn skin, slightly swollen around the places where string held it together. It wasn’t red or bloody, in fact, it looked like it was at least a few days old. He frowned. 

“How long was I out?” He asked. 

“A day, maybe?” Bad held out his hand towards George, not looking away from the wound. “Could you grab some of the gauze I just prepped? I might as well replace it.” 

Eret frowned as he watched George walk out of the small, curtained room. He could hear the sounds of shuffling in what he assumed to be the kitchen. 

“A day…?” He asked, glancing down at the scar on his arm. The faint, red line looked several days old, with only a minimal amount of swelling around it. There was no way it had only been a day. Injuries just didn’t heal that quickly. “How is it healing so fast?” 

“We tried our best to close the wound as quickly as possible. It would have been better if we had been able to get to you sooner, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” Bad sighed. “It didn’t help that you were half frozen to death, so we needed to take care of that first before we could even begin thinking about your arm -- hey George! Grab some regen pots while you’re out there please!”

“Splash potions or normal?” George called from beyond the curtains.

“Normal. We’ve already taken care of most of the outer damage. Now it’s just a matter of getting back all that blood he lost” 

Eret sat in confusion, his gaze darting back and forth between the shadow creature in front of him, and the curtain. “That uh… That doesn’t explain how this looks a week old.” 

“Well, your buddy Bad knows a thing or two about healing people,” the demon chuckled. “I soaked the bandages in healing potions so that your wound would close up safely.”

Eret stared at the scar on his arm in wonder. “Holy shit, Bad, that’s genius.”

“Language!”

He looked down, having the courtesy to at least look somewhat ashamed “Sorry…” 

“It’s alright, you muffin,” Bad laughed. “Didn’t I tell you guys to use this technique already? You know it’s really not healthy to just drink health potions, right? Have you not been taking care of yourself?”

Eret grimaced. “Well, it wasn’t exactly… common in L’Manberg, per se?”

Bad’s face fell. “Don’t tell me. Did Wilbur forget? I know I told him how to!”

“I honestly have no clue,” Eret shrugged. It wasn’t technically a lie, he really didn’t know, but the reason why was entirely different than the implication.

Bad nodded, pride shining on his face. “Well, Eret, I can guarantee you that as long as you stay here with us, we’ll take good care of you.”

~~~

Eret woke slowly and peacefully, a surprise to everyone in the community house. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of a knocking in the doorway, and was startled to see Bad tapping his knuckle against the wall, a plate in his other hand.

“Heya, sleepy-head!”

“What are you--” Eret sat up and rearranged his pillows to support his aching back. “What are you doing?”

The demon grinned. “I’m bringing you cookies, what does it look like?” He sat the plate he was holding down on Eret’s nightstand with a clink.

Eret stared, dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Lots of reasons!” Bad replied, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket. “I figured you weren’t feeling too great, so I wanted to do something nice for you to cheer you up!”

“Oh.”

“Plus, cookies taste better than potions, so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone and put the regeneration potion into the cookies.”

“Oh.”

“You have to make sure you eat all of them, okay? Doctor’s orders! I made sure to keep it a small batch so you wouldn’t get stuffed.”

“Oh...” Eret could only stare at the six perfectly round cookies sitting on the plate next to him. This was real, physical proof that somebody here cared about him -- really cared.

Why?

Eret couldn’t think of a good reason why anyone here should care about him. He had betrayed L’Manburg, or so everyone in this world thought. He was untrustworthy. He could turn on his friends at any moment. It would have been in Bad’s best interest to leave him freezing out in the snow, to leave him to die, but he hadn’t. Bad had done the opposite. So--

“Why?” he muttered.

The demon furrowed his brow. “Why what? What do you mean?”

“Why do you…” Eret stared down at his hands, unsure of what exactly he felt. “Why do you care? You have no reason to, I-- I’m a traitor. For all you know, I could turn on you, I could stab you in the back, I could...” he trailed off, not daring to finish his sentence.

A small scoff sounded from the open curtain. “Please, you wouldn’t do that.” 

Eret glanced up. George was once more standing in the makeshift doorway, his arms crossed in front of him. “You’ve already invested way too much into this, you wouldn’t just throw it away. Besides, I like to think of it as a double agent. Sounds much cooler than being a traitor.” 

Bad turned and faced George with a disappointed frown. “George.”

“What?” The man glanced around nervously. “I’m not wrong.”

Bad sighed and faced Eret once more. “Well, I guess…” He trailed off, seemingly deciding what words fit his answer best. “I think that everyone deserves to have someone that cares about them. And I already cared about you before I found you in the snow.”

“Besides, we all knew what would happen once you pressed that button,” George added, a soft smile on his face. “We all accepted it, and we knew what would happen. You weren’t the only one in the final control room. We’re in this together.” 

He could only watch as Bad took a seat on the side of his bed.“You’re our friend, Eret. You still deserve love, and a warm bed, and some nice cookies, no matter what you’ve done. And I want to be able to give that to you, for as long as you’ll let me.”

Eret blinked hard, trying to clear away the tears that threatened to spill over. “Do you mean that?”

A warm smile crossed his face. “Of course! Besides, I may have not approved of your plan, but I still vowed to stay neutral. I knew that this was going to happen, and I’m here to help you through it.” 

Eret gave up. The dams he had put up broke, and tears began to stream down his face. He tackled his friend and held him in a tight hug, not daring to let him go. It was slightly strange, considering the fact that his friend was some sort of shadowy-demon monster, but it didn’t matter. The hug was still filled with warmth and love.

It was enough to make a traitor cry.

He could feel a second pair of arms wrap around them as George nestled his head in the space between the other two’s bodies and let out a content sigh. Their tangle of limbs was slightly awkward, but none of them cared. Both George and Bad were too focused on trying to support their friend, and Eret wasn’t focused at all. 

Bad rubbed Eret’s back, trying to comfort him as much as he possibly could. Eret’s throat was too tight for him to say what he meant just then, but he hoped that this embrace said it for him.

Thank you.

~~~

Master Post

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[angstbabyjae]

DSMP Tier List

This tier list was shared in a discord server I’m in, so I thought I’d give it a go. Not entirely satisfied with the section titles, so I used them quite liberally. I will explain why I put people where I did. On the tier itself I didn’t order them by preference but in my explanation I will. Please not that they will be ranked from favorite to least favorite per category (for example: I put Sapnap technically above Niki despite liking her character more) and not by how much they deserve to be in each category (for example: I prefer Technoblade to Phil but I believe people excuse Technoblade’s actions more than Phil’s). I encourage healthy suggestion in the comments since I only joined the fandom around the Green Festival and haven’t seen the history/POV’s of every character, though I try. Enjoy.

Gonna slap on a big ol’ “/rp” here just to be safe.

You've done nothing wrong come here (holds you gently)

So the thing about this section is that I don't believe any dream smp character is completely innocent, so I used this section more like a top of tier than as it's title implies.

1. TommyInnit

Ngl, Tommy is my favorite character in the Dream SMP. As a fellow Loud Person I relate to him a lot and his feelings that nobody really likes him. His mental health struggles are close to my heart and (SPOILERS) his death just made me so devastated. I really hope they don't end his arc like this. Not when he was just starting to heal, please. Tommy has certainly done a lot of things wrong. I'd highly recommend watching the exile decision from both Tubbo and Tommy's POV's because you can really get a grasp of their mindsets. Despite this, he is my fave.

2. Ranboo

Until recently I preferred Tubbo to Ranboo, but cc!Ranboo just totally outdid himself on lore and acting to the point where I couldn't deny it anymore. Ranboo did do *some* things wrong, but they are less extreme than many on this list (I don't count things he might have done under Dream's control since he wasn't conscious). Ranboo's character makes me go into protecc mode. So yeah, very good enderboi.

3. Tubbo_

Tubbo doesn't have much lore for his character, but like I do with many others on this list, I like to overanalyze and interpret certain characters to be deeper than they are. The Tubbo I have in my head is a lot more complex than what cc!Tubbo probably meant to portray. There is so much angst potential with his character, similar to many others, but what puts him top tier for me is the emotional connection I have to his character and how I relate to getting so much put on my shoulders and having to make tough decisions.

you're an amazing character

Okay so technically Schlatt should be on this list if we are speaking from a narrative standpoint, but seeing as the way OP labelled the other sections on this chart I'm guessing they meant morally as well.

4. Alex Quackity

Quackity is my favorite adult character. I don't even know why, I just love the idea of this comic relief character becoming such a catalyst for plot and more serious as time goes on. I love taking the dream smp characters and making them deeper than they probably are, as I do with Tubbo, but now it seems cc!Quackity is fully taking his character to the height of his potential and I can't wait to see what he does with him next.

5. AweSamDude

(SPOILERS) As such a big Tommy fan I must admit, my first thought when Tommy died was that Sam was partly responsible. If Dream told him what he did to Tommy in exile like he claims then he would have at least put up the obsidian barrier between them or something. After watching Ranboo's most recent stream (right now it's March 3rd) I understand why Sam did what he did more. My initial anger towards him has dissipated a bit. I still love his character so much. He really did care about Tommy and now... dang. I can't wait to see what happens with him next.

6. Captain Puffy

It was very close between ranking her or Sam higher, but given all the in depth character stuff we're getting from Sam right now, I'd have to rank him above. Despite this, Puffy is a character that I started out not knowing anything about and am now feeling her climb the ranks in my books. Sometimes I feel like she's the only adult who actually put Tommy's well-being above other things, despite them not interacting often. I wasn't around for the whole "duckling" thing with Dream and have yet to watch the VODs, but I just want her to visit him now and punish him for the Tommy stuff. (SPOILERS) I can feel Dream's next ploy being trying to convince someone to let him out in exchange for bringing back Tommy and if Sam doesn't cave then Puffy probably will. Also, I really hope that her and Niki's relationship isn't forgotten. There's so much angst potential there. Also, I need sapphics to survive.

7. Eret

So, I wasn't a fan of the SMP during season one. I hadn't even heard of it except for like my friend referencing Technoblade now and then. After watching some VODs of Eret's I am slowly starting to fall in love with her characterization. I am so soft for their redemption arc, for the regret he feels. Now that cc!Eret is back from their mental health break I am so ready for more.

8. Fundy

Fundy's a character that I will forget how much I love until he goes live again, or until I reread his old quotes. He has a lot of lore to him that surprises you every time you remember. Whether its his last speech to Schlatt to COCONUT 2020, Fundy always gives the audience something more to think about.

9. "Ghostbur"

Ghostbur is one of the few characters who genuinely make me want to cry. cc!Wilbur's performance was both hilarious and immaculate. I really want to find out more about his lore, though. Do all dead people with unfinished business get an alternate version of themselves to roam the Earth while you stay in the afterlife unable to make contact unless the veil is thin? Was Ghostbur just Wilbur pretending the whole time? (SPOILERS) Is Tommy going to get one? Is Glatt canon? Much to think about.

10. BadBoyHalo

While I despise egg-possessed BBH, normal BBH has my entire heart. The fact he gave up his mind for Skeppy is *chef's kiss*. I am very impressed with everything cc!BBH is writing right now.

11. Karl Jacobs

My second favorite polyamorous dimension hopper after Star Butterfly (let me have Startomco please)! TFTSMP just gets better and better each week. His time travel shenanigans are so fun and mysterious. Karlnapity is just a big ol' pot of angst just waiting to happen. WEDDING SOON PLEASE!

no intense opinion

While I do have opinions on some of these characters, they aren't intense enough to place them anywhere else.

12. Ponk

I don't watch him all that often since he's live during my school time, but what I've seen I love. Him starting that whole side plot expanding on that one TFTSMP episode intrigues me and I can see it tying into the egg somehow. Him and Sam are really cute together (/rp) and I want him to become more plot relevant again.

13. Antfrost

GAY CAT GAY CAT GAY CAT! In all seriousness, I really want him to do stuff with his character to make him more than just BBH's second-in-command (I have similar feelings with Skeppy, but I know he isn't very big on lore). Side note, but I really love the hc that RedVelvetCake is inside the egg. I want him to join so bad.

14. Purpled

I've only just started watching the actual clips from pre-L'Manberg times and Purpled was once much more plot involved than I thought. Him planning on getting his revenge on Tommy at the same time as the "police" investigating the Camarvan back in early season one was comedy gold. Shout out to BlueberryTV on YouTube for making it so easy to watch. In conclusion, we stan an underage mercenary.

15. GeorgeNotFound

Idk if this is a hot take or not, but I feel a good portion of people who love George's character are just DNF shippers who want to turn his crumbs into an angst factory, but you know what? Valid. While I am not a DNF shipper, I have seen the angst y'all have brought to the table and very much appreciate it.

16. ConnorEatsPants

The most I think I've seen of Connor has been the hostage scene and the non-canon party scene from this season. I don't have much to say except that his small speech to Tommy after he was let go about him not being a bad person despite traumatizing him hit surprisingly hard in the feels.

17. Skeppy

cc!Skeppy is not a big roleplayer, and I get that, it's just sometimes his character feels a little like an accessory to Bad's character. Please link me some good Skeppy moments in the comments if you can, I want to try and learn more about his character. His angst with Bad right now is top tier, though, and I choose to believe that Big Daddy Island is canon and that Bad took him there to keep him free from the egg. I actually wrote a fic about this if you want to check it out! Mind the tags, though, I went a little macabre with it.

18. HBomb

When I first learned about the SMP it was two nights before the green festival and I was up until 3am at my aunt's house reading the plot summary. The first clip of the smp I saw was the election VOD, where HBomb joined for the first time. I don't know much about him other than the fact he was Fundy's maid for a time and it was absolutely hilarious. I saw the recent stuff with him leaving Greater SMP to start over and enjoyed it. Hope we get more stuff like that with him.

19. Callahan

Gets all the ladies. What else can I say?

you're trying your best and I respect that

20. Sapnap

I put Sapnap here because he's on his way to becoming an amazing character. The angst stuff with Dream is the stuff George fans can only dream of (pun unintended). I like how he went from the cop, the pet killer, Dream's right hand man, to mushroom cottegecore gay living his best life and dealing with the pain of losing his best friend. The whole "Dream's bitch" conversation with Tommy that I saw an animatic for some time ago made me hurt so good. Also #KarlnapityWedding2021.

you're redeemable, thin fucking ice though

These are characters who I somewhat dislike to a degree, but still have hope for. In my opinion this section should be switched with the one after it in terms of which is worse, but oh well.

21. Wilbur Soot

I know he's already dead but if he's brought back to life I want a redemption arc from him back. (SPOILERS) If neither him nor Tommy come back to life then dsmp has a horrible track record with killing off their mentally ill and (tw) suicidal characters. Wilbur has done some awful things, but if he's brought back I don't think he'd be beyond saving.

22. Jack Manifold

I need to say something about Jack. He is so very very close to being in the "you're trying your best" section right now after his most recent stream. His redemption arc is so close I can taste it and if he is redeemed right I can see him joining my faves. His most recent stream was just so well acted that my heart just wants to forgive him already... until my brain remembers he tried to nuke a child. Don’t know if this is also a hot take, but I think he had more of a right to be mad at Tommy than Niki did, but I know for Niki it's more complicated than that.

23. Niki Nihachu

There was a time that I adored Niki Nihachu and a part of me still does, but she has gone a little bit off the deep end. I do understand it's a trauma response, though. cc!Niki said that her villain arc is almost over, which disappointed me a bit because we kinda barely got to see it since it was so overshadowed, but I am also relieved. I just want my wlw baker back :(

people excuse your actions more than you deserve

I am just going to pretend that this section doesn't say "love". I still like these characters a lot even though they get away with a lot of shit.

24. Technoblade

I love Technoblade too much for him to be ranked this low, but like I said this ranking is based on fitting the section descriptions, not how much I love them. Technoblade's POV is understandable but also that doesn't excuse the pain he's caused so many people. L'Manberg was more than it's a government as much as Techno is more than a weapon.

25. Philza Minecraft

Philza deserves to be in this section a little less than Technoblade because I actually agree with a lot of what Philza fans say. Tommy is not Philza's kid. Phil has a lot of trauma around killing Wilbur, yes. I just don't see how you could watch Ghostbur's Friend speech during Doomsday and think he was in the right for doing it.

i don't like you

26. JSchlatt

JSchlatt is an amazing character in many ways. The acting? Glorious. The dialogue? Spot on. With that being said, YAYY HE'S DEAD!!! I really like leaning into the abusive relationship hc with him and his cabinet. He was probably the most fun villain we've ever had, though.

I WANT THIS MOTHER FUCKER DEAD

27. DreamWasTaken

Come on, do I even have to explain?

[hermits-that-craft]

Staying With The Traitor - Chapter Two

Hope

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26695042/chapters/65201827

“Eret where did you go?” Nikki’s voice echoes through the large, empty castle. Sunlight filters through the rainbow stained glass, casting beautiful patterns onto the floor. 

She knows it’s dangerous to be walking so close to the glass, so close to where the Manburgians could see her, but she doesn’t care. Eret is missing, and she needs to find him. “Eret?”

“I’m here!” Eret’s voice calls out. “Sorry for worrying you Nikki.”

“I heard the Manburgians last night.” Nikki says, her pace quickening as she runs towards where Eret’s voice came from. “I thought they attacked us.”

“Not us, another hunting party.”

“Did they find the boys?” She asks, her hair flowing behind her as she runs into the throne room.

Where Tommy and Wilbur stand, bandages covering any exposed limbs and outfits soaked through with water, soot and blood. They both look like shit, dirt and blood indistinguishable besides the fresh stuff, and bags under Wilbur’s eyes practically giving him another inventory of space. Tommy has a new cut on his cheek, unbandaged and bleeding. Tommy has a blanket around his shoulders and a thousand yard stare that looks through Nikki and out the other side. Wilbur’s eyes are empty, hollow and tired.

“You’re okay.” Nikki mumbles, walking towards them slowly. She raises her hand, brushing a stray tear from Wilbur’s cheek before pulling him into a hug. “You’re okay.”

“I’ll prepare some food for everyone.” Eret says softly. “How does pancakes sound?”

“That would be nice.” Wilbur says softly and Tommy nods, a small smile on his face. A sad one.

“I’ll throw in some chocolate chips.” Eret nods, walking out of the room. 

“When did you guys arrive?” Nikki asks, pulling the two men onto some seats. They’ll move to the dining hall later.

“About five minutes ago.” Wilbur says, pulling off his beanie. He holds it in his hands, gently passing the saturated material between his hands. “We’ve been walking all night.”

“You should have messaged me, I would have brought some horses.”

“Didn’t want to wake you up.” Tommy mumbles, his voice almost as hollow as Wilbur’s eyes.

What happened to them, out there? Nikki wonders to herself, half ready to whisper to Tubbo or Fundy to ask them the question.

But she can’t ask them.

Then Schlatt will know that she’s with them.

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Nikki says, placing her hand on Tommy’s. She tried to ignore the small flinch from the teen. Months of working on his PTSD from the war, and it looks like it’s all gone again. Unless something else happened to them. “Do you guys need any health potions?”

“We can handle it.” Wilbur says immediately, before guilt flashes across his face. “Sorry, Nikki, it’s just-”

“We’re under Dream’s rule again.” Tommy spits, glaring at the floor. There’s an emotion that Nikki can deal with, can help the teen with. Anger. “We fought and died and lost everything for L’manburg and we’re back the same place we fucking started!”

“I know.” Nikki says sympathetically. “But you need to be safe, and this is the safest place for you both and-”

“You don’t understand, Nikki. We’re citizens of the fucking place again!” Tommy yells. “We fought, and we died, and it was all for nothing.” His voice cracks on the last word, tears streaming down his face. “It was for nothing. We lost.”

“Tommy-”

“Tommy, do you want the first pancake?” Eret’s voice cuts through what Nikki was about to say, and Tommy gets up, walking out of the room.

“Does he know where the kitchen or the dining hall is?” Nikki asks Wilbur softly, and the man shakes his head.

“He’ll find it. He’s a teen, he’ll just follow the scent until he gets to the food.” Wilbur laughs, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I failed him, didn’t I? I promised freedom and the world to him, and now he’s back where we started. I might as well goddamn lied to him.”

“You didn’t fail him.” Nikki reaches out to Wilbur, though he doesn’t look at her. His eyes, though empty, harden like stone before her eyes. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I promised him freedom. I promised him safety.” Wilbur glares at the ground. “This is all my fault. If I hadn't held the election none of this would have happened.”

“Do you really think Schlatt would have sat back and let you have power?” Nikki asks softly. “You know him, you remember what he’s done, what he did. You know him better than the rest of us. He wouldn’t of let you have power, let you run your country. You did the right think.”

“And now Tommy is homeless, stuck in a country that he died to escape, a country that leader killed him, and now we have to play the role of ‘good, upstanding citizens’ while our country burns.” Nikki holds back a finch at Wilbur’s words, though she can’t help but agree with him. They’re citizens of L’manburg, they shouldn’t be here. In Eret’s court. They aren’t Dreamers, they are not his citizens. L’manburgians through and through.

“If we don’t play that role we won't have a safe place to stay.” Nikki mumbles. “We need their allyship. We can’t afford to lose L’manburg.”

“We already have.”

“Only with that attitude.” Nikki jokes, and Wilbur finally cracks a smile. It’s small, but it reaches his eyes.

“I guess.” Wilbur smiles, tilting his back. “I guess we haven’t lost yet, why else would Schlatt be hunting us?”

“Besides how we are the good looking members of L’manburg?” Nikki teases, and Wilbur laughs, punching her shoulder. “We’re going to have to play the part, Wil. We have to make Eret trust us. We need his help.”

“I don’t trust him. I won’t trust him.” Wilbur says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t either. But we have protection here. We’ll need their allyship if we want to get L’manburg back.”

“Techno and Phil are coming.” Wilbur says, and Nikki feels hope spark in her chest, a small yet warm fire, dancing brightly. “We won’t need Dream, or Eret, not once they arrive.”

“Only as a back up.” Nikki smiles. “We can let Tommy flip them off when we leave. When are they arriving?”

“In a month or two.” Wilbur smiles. “Not too long, all things considered.”

“We’ll need to set up a base, and get armour ready.” Nikki says. “We could use Eret and the Dreamer’s to get the supplies for it.”

---

“Where are they?” Jschlatt yells, slamming his hands down on the table. Tubbo flinches in the corner, his eyes wide as he watches the room argue. “We can’t afford for them to start a rebellion against us.”

“Really, you shouldn’t have exiled them.” Fundy says, waving his hand. “We could have thrown them in prison or something like that, you know? Kept a close eye on them.”

“Nikki didn’t stay in prison, what makes you think that those two bastards would have?” George rolls his eyes at the fox hybrid, who just glares back to him. 

“You don’t think that Nikki’s with them, do you?” Jack asks Tubbo, staring into Tubbo’s soul. His throat goes dry, feeling the room’s eyes on him.

“I think Nikki is hiding nearby.” Tubbo mumbles, trying to avoid everyone’s eyes.

“Where would you suggest that place be, Tubbo?” Schlatt asks him, his voice kind and dark, the threat not needing to be spoken for Tubbo to understand what will happen to him if he lies again.

“Eret. With Eret.” Tubbo says softly. “I think that she’s hiding with Eret.”

“They always were close, weren’t they?” Jack nods to himself. “It makes sense that she’d hide with Eret.”

“And Eret knows where Wilbur and Tommy are hiding as well, he told me so last night.” Schlatt smiles. “I think it’s time we pay the king a visit.”

“Not yet.” Tubbo blurts out before he can stop himself.

“And why not?” Schlatt glares at the teen, who tries his hardest not to cower.

“Because there’s a ball coming up, we’re all invited.” Tubbo says softly. “Better to show up invited and burn the place down than to declare war. We can always blame Wilbur or Nikki for that. Not if we all show up now.”

“Tubbo i didn’t realise that you were so good at planning.” George whistles under his breath, and the men in the room give Tubbo a nod that turns his insides to ice.

He’s just betrayed them all.

---

Tommy sits on the roof of the castle, his hair blowing in the wind as he reads through Techno’s letter for the second time that day. Below him, Wilbur and Nikki are discussing a deal with Eret so that they can get help with getting equipment for the rebellion. Tommy wasn’t invited, Wilbur saying something about him ‘not being the calmest’.

As though Tommy didn’t make most of the trade deals between L’manburg and Dream SMP when Wilbur was too mad with Dream or Eret to meet with them.

So Tommy sits on the roof, a music disk playing softly over the air. Far, he thinks, wondering where Eret got the disk. It's peaceful, at the very least, playing softly as the sun sets. The sky lights up in golds and ambers, birds flying in the distance. He wonders about Manburg, about Tubbo and Jack and Fundy. Are they alright? Are they actually working for Jschlatt, or are they going to double cross the man?

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know. Does he have to know, if it means that he will lose more of his family? Knowledge is a curse.

Maybe thats the real reason that Wilbur and Nikki didn’t want him there, in that meeting. Maybe they didn’t want him to lose more hope, to lose more family and friends. Would it hurt more to find out loyalties now, or later? Would it hurt more now, to find out if Tubbo is fully with Schlatt, then to find out if Tubbo was fully with Schlatt after weeks of trusting him? What would be worse?

A bee flies idly by, trying to find its hive before dark. Tommy doesn’t know why the bee would be here, there are no gardens in Eret’s castle, no flowers to be found. Maybe he could plant some, for this bee. For any other bees nearby. That's something he can do, that’s something that won’t hurt anyone. It’s not training, but it isn’t running either.

He’ll have to check with Wilbur and Eret, and see if they approve. 

---

Tubbo watches the sun set over the water, turning the ocean into a deep orange. Inside Nikki’s bakery, Schlatt, George, Fundy, Jack and Quackity drink. They took all the yeast from the bakery when Nikki left, turning it into beer. Tubbo has been put in charge of finding more, trading for it with his villagers. It could be worse, Tubbo thinks to himself, They could have banned me from baking bread like they banned Nikki from it.

Of course, Schlatt banned him from gardening, but at least he can bake. They haven’t taken that away from him. Sure, it’s his duty, and when the men leave, stumbling and drunk and angry, Tubbo will work until midnight preparing tomorrow's bread. 

So Tubbo watches the sunset, longing to find Tommy. He could leave, right now. The Manburgian’s are drunk, always drunk at this hour of the night. Though normally one doesn’t drink, keeping an eye on Tubbo to make sure he doesn’t run. 

He’s been caught trying to run before, on the night of the inauguration. George caught him, and he slept in the prison instead of in his bed, down with Nikki. It was nicer in the prison than in his room, with two guards outside his door to ‘protect’ him. In any case, he wouldn’t be able to run far tonight, shackles around his ankles keeping him from taking too large of a step, let alone running.

He shouldn’t have disagreed with Schlatt.

Glass breaks in the bakery, and Tubbo strains to hear anything other than the fighting from inside the building. He can almost imagine Far playing on the breeze, and a stray tear falls down his cheek. Tonight won’t be good.

Taglist:

@octosghost @firefly464 @surohsopsisofclouds @chromations @magpies-and-glitter @wwwwwelcomegays @asmoljay @ribineran @hawheckin @violet--majesty @violets-arepurple @marzycielskagwiazda

[sodaparker]

just us |ch.1| g. weasley

2nd May 1998

4:50am

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle had been waging for hours, but it had felt like days in Rory's mind. She couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop fighting, she simply wouldn't allow it. Every curse blocked and deflected, every death eater disarmed and dealt with was a step closer to ending this war and keeping her family safe.

Her parents, her sister Eddie, Eddie's boyfriend George, the rest of the Weasley clan and him. Fred Weasley, her fiancé, whom she planned on marrying in the coming months, if she could just survive this bloody war.

Fred had stayed close by throughout those grueling hours, to which Rory was grateful. He had always felt like home, always boosted her confidence and most importantly he kept reminding her what she was fighting for; their future. Every flash of red hair in her peripherals, every victorious laugh, every hand lightly gracing her waist as he passed would bring a warmth to her chest. There was no fretting over where he was and if he was okay when he was ten feet away from her.

The battle was nearly over, or at least it had seemed like it. There were fewer people running at them. There seemed to be less people in general.

Rory could hear Fred laughing behind her,

"I think that's the first time I've heard you crack a joke, Perc."

A smile played at her lips, happy that after years of fighting Fred and Percy could finally have the relationship they should have always had. She looked over to see the two Weasleys still giggling over whatever joke Percy had made. Then it happened.

An explosion.

It knocked the three of them back. It took a moment for her to get her bearings.

"RORY!" she heard Percy call for her. The panic in his voice sent a cold shiver through her body. Fred was lying there, unmoving. No, this can't be happening. She rushed over as quickly as she could. He had died with a laugh still on his lips, frozen in time.

Her vision became blurry with tears as she sat over him. She wanted to cry out, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Nothing could describe the dread that was quickly taking over her.

Just then a voice rang throughout the castle,

"You have fought valiantly, but in vain."

Rory covered her ears in a wasted attempt to muffle Voldemort's booming voice; not exactly the person she would like to hear from in this moment.

"I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste."

She couldn't help but look down at Fred, she could only hope and pray that his sacrifice was not for nothing. The thought of it made her eyes water even more, tears finally beginning to stream down her face.

"I, therefore, command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

"We have to get him to the Great Hall." Percy said, frantically. Rory could only nod in agreement, as tears continued to wet her face. She couldn't fully process this, not yet. How was she going to live without him? How was George going to live without him? Or Molly? Eddie? Any of them? Fred and George were beams of sunlight in this dark world, without Fred, would George's light fade? All their lives had changed in the matter of an instant, and in that moment only Rory and Percy carried the weight of that burden.

They slowly began lifting Fred's lifeless body. No words were exchanged between the two of them as they struggled to carry Fred down the corridor. The only sounds to be heard from them were choked sobs and hiccups, while they attempted to control their sobs.

As they slowly made their way into the Great Hall, most of the Weasleys were already there. Arthur immediately came running towards them. Rory couldn't hear the words he spoke to her as he took Fred's legs from her grasp. She couldn't stop herself from collapsing on the floor, crying, as soon as she let go of him. Molly quickly came over to help her up and walked her over in front of the cot they had laid Fred's body on. Everyone around them was crying and hugging.

"George," Ginny realized, "someone needs to go get him."

"I will." said Rory. It was the first time she had spoken since the explosion. She felt like she owed it to George to tell him. The four of them had been inseparable since first meeting on the Hogwarts Express first year. It wasn't often that two set of identical twins were starting their journey at Hogwarts the same year, and when one of those sets are Fred and George Weasley, they are going to insist on being the best of friends.

"Are you sure, darling?" Molly asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'll go find him." Rory tried to smile assuringly. "Everyone needs you here."

She slowly started the trek to the last place she had known George to be. What would she tell him? What could she tell him? Her mind began to race with these questions and more as she tried to form some semblance of an explanation.

She would bring him possibly the single worst news of his life; everything would change for him, for the three of us, for our families. George was currently living in blissful ignorance of this tragedy and Rory hated to be the one to shatter that reality.

Perhaps she should've waited for Eddie, she would've known how to handle this. Eddie was always receptive of other's feelings and always knew what to say and when to say it. It's one of the reasons Eddie and George are so good together. They have always kept Fred and Rory in check, making sure they never go too far, get too angry, and if they had, they always knew how to pick up the pieces.

This made Rory hesitate, she began contemplating whether she should go back and find Eddie before finding George. No, she was just stalling. She had to find George and quickly, she didn't want him hearing this news from someone who wasn't a friend or family. If she was lucky, she might find George and Eddie together, but it seemed that all her luck had run out when that wall had been blown to pieces.

"Rory!" she heard from behind her.

Rory turned around and there he was, the near spitting image of Fred. If she hadn't known better she might've thought she was having some sort of mental break, or perhaps seeing Fred's ghost. Yet, after nearly a decade of spending every day possible with the two, Rory had no problem spotting the difference. The purple jumper and missing ear also helped.

George jogged to meet up with her and pulled her into a bear hug; likely exhausted and relieved to see someone in the family has survived. Rory hugged him with the same amount of force, but for different reasons. She started crying again, she couldn't help it. It was all too much and seeing George made it nearly too much to bear, and she was about to burden one of her best friends with all of it.

George was the first to pull away with some resemblance of a smile on his face, eager to find the rest of his family and make sure they were okay, it had been a long night.

"Rory, you wouldn't believe what hap-" He stopped himself when he noticed that Rory had been crying and was avoiding looking at him. "Rory? What's wrong?"

She couldn't look at him; the guilt was beginning to eat at her, it should've been her, perhaps she could've saved him in some way if she had turned around sooner. She began to worry that George would blame her for it. He had never been unreasonable in that way, but he had always had Fred, and now he doesn't. Her eyesight became blurry again as she began to tear up again. She chose to focus on the destroyed painting on the floor near them rather than the ginger man that was looking at her expectantly, she knew if she looked at him she'd break again. George was having none of this and grabbed her face as a last ditch effort to make her look at him.

"Rory. Please, what happened?" George was nearly begging.

"Fred" was all she could muster.

His face fell instantly. His eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"Where?"

"The Great Hall."

George took off in that direction, but not before grabbing Rory's hand to drag her there with him. He knew her too well. He knew she'd stay there alone and he wasn't going to leave her. They both needed to be with their family right now.

They seemed to make it back to the Great Hall in record time. George holding her hand the whole way, only to let go as they approached the Weasleys. Rory noticed her parents had joined them and were standing in front of something. Someone. Someone laid next to Fred. Rory froze in terror as she got closer to see.

It was Eddie.

She could hear George's screams, Molly trying her best to console him and her parents pulling her into their embrace as she entered yet another state of shock.

She wasn't strong enough for this. She had lost so much in such little time. She couldn't even begin to process this. She felt like a shell of a person. Fred was her soulmate, the love of her life and Eddie, her best friend, her twin. What was left of a person when they've lost both of their other halves?

Rory vaguely remembered her parents leading her in front of their bodies, standing there with a never ending river of tears that she didn't make any effort to wipe away. She heard Harry, Ron and Hermione walk in the Great Hall, but couldn't find the strength to look up and greet them.

George lifted himself off the ground to hug Ron. As Ron sobbed over Fred's body,  George turned to Rory. His embrace shook her from her daze. After a moments hesitation, Rory returned the hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso as a way of anchoring herself.

"I suppose it's just the two of us now." George whimpered into her hair.

Rory held him tighter as she tucked her face deeper into his chest to hide the new wave of tears falling down to her chin.

"Just us."

~~~~~~~~~~~

srry if this is bad, its the first time i’ve written a fanfic

links to wattpad and ao3 in my bio

[peqachy]

My Roses Bloom Only For You

[Dream x Hanahaki! Reader]

[Summary]

Reader and Dream have been online friends for years, seven to be exact, and now Reader is starting to realize they like Dream more than that. However, as Dream’s closest friend, they know he is infatuated with fellow Youtuber GeorgeNotFound. At first, they were fine with it...until the flowers started appearing.

[TW!]

Angst, blood, and suicide

I chuckle to myself as I listen to my friends argue amongst themselves about who the impostor is. Lucky for me, the stinging pain I usually felt in my lungs and throat are being kept at bay with pain meds, or else I’d be coughing my brains out right now. It isn’t until I hear my username get called that I come into the conversation.

“I was with Dream. We walked up from O2 to security where I sat on guard while he did wires. When he was done, we checked cameras and only briefly saw Geroge before he was murked off screen,” I explained, it was a lie since I was on the other side of the map killing Sapnap while he did Simon Says, but I know Dream will back me up since we’re both impostors.

“I thought you were with Sapnap that round,” Karl asks, trying to catch me in a lie.

“I was for a little bit, but when he took too long on Simon Says I left to find Dream, right Dream?” a gut wrenching feeling makes me frown, a terrible sensation bubbling up my throat.

“Hm? Oh yeah, she was with me at the end of that round,” Dream covers, although it was half-hearted because he sounded rather distracted.

“If you two were really together then why did Dream not mention you during his explanation of where he was? You know, point out any witnesses who may be able to clear him as innocent? Sounds kinda sus to me,” Mr. Beast interjects, making a very good point.

Damit, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I thought, struggling to keep down a cough.

“No, she really was with me, it just slipped my mind to mention she was there,” Dream defends, sounding more into it than he was before.

My heart clenched, jealousy pooling in my stomach. I know who has you distracted, I just wish I didn’t. I thought bitterly, voting for who is “sus” before remaining AFK in the meeting room. Getting up from my chair, I left to go to the kitchen to get something to eat. Thankfully, I’m not streaming right now so I can just get up and leave when I need to, but I can’t shake the feeling in my throat. I know I should get the surgery, but I don’t want to lose my feeling for Clay. He’s played such a huge part in my life up until now, I can’t bear to see that change just because of me. Warm tears slid down my reddened cheeks, the thought of dying because I love someone being one of the most terrifying thoughts I’ve had in a long time, but it paled in comparison to the thought of leaving everyone behind because of how stubborn I am.

Before I can walk away from the counter with a premade smoothie, I begin to feel it. The itching feeling in my throat, the difficulty it’s becoming to breathe. I’m about to cough. Thinking quickly, I set my glass down on the counter so I wouldn’t drop it and get glass in my foot again. Finally, after trying to repress it, I start to hack and cough, blood sprinkling the surface of my counter and lips. This lasts for a minute or two before I begin to gag, the flower pushing past my unverla to pool into my mouth. Spitting out what I hoped wasn’t a white rose, I sigh when I see red speckled pearl white petals in the palm of my hand. I don’t have much longer. I thought walking back to my room after cleaning up the blood and tossing the rose in the bin. I’ll call him later. I assure myself, continuing to play Among Us with my friends like nothing’s wrong.

It’s been a few hours since I had my coughing fit, my ability to breath getting painfully low. I had already left the discord call after telling everyone goodnight and how much I love them. Of course, they have no idea what’s going to happen so their responses were a mix of confusion and cheerfulness. Laying on my back in my bed, I dial up his number. It rings and rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer. He must still be streaming. I’ll leave him a message.

“Hey Clay, it’s Y/n, um, I called but you didn’t answer so I guess I’m just going to leave you a message. I...don’t know how much longer I have left so I’ll make this short, sweet, and simple. Clay, you are my best friend, you know this, and I know I tell you everything but I’ve kept a secret from you...I love you Clay. I love you more than anything else in this world, more than myself,” for a reason I can’t explain, I laugh at what I said, “It’s hilarious right? Me loving you and you loving George? Actually, that sounds very sad...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I...just didn’t want you to feel like you needed to love me to stop me from dying, but hey! Keep your head up! You have so many friends who love and care about you, so don’t you dare let me drag you down, okay? Goodbye Clay, I hope things work out between you and George.”

The silence of my room is deafening. This isn’t how I wanted this to end. I wanted to at least hear his voice once more before I died, but life is just too cruel for that to happen. Feeling my lungs constrict around the flowers and thorns within them I start to weep. Then I began to sob, the searing pain I had been avoiding with pain medication had finally caught up to me. This is it, this is how I die. A lovesick fool who fell in love with their best friend in the whole world. How tragic. I thought as I reached for the melatonin on my nightstand, preparing to rid myself of this agony with an eternal slumber.

Opening the container, I stuff as many pills as I could swallow into my mouth before laying back and trying to relax. It hurt to die this way, I knew this very much from the stories I had read online, but I also knew that 95% of the people who got the surgery regretted it within the first few months. Someone even said “He used to be so vibrant and bold, like neon colors on a black background, but now he’s just here. Our friendship is still there, but it’s just not the same. There’s a new distance between us that gets larger and larger the more I try to fill the void in my chest. Despite being married with two kids, I still wish I hadn’t agreed to get the surgery because death would be much better than living with emptiness in my chest.” and that scared me more than losing my life. Clay is my life, there is no me without him, and I always assumed it was the same for him, but I guess that just isn’t true.

My vision fades, my eyes closing from the heavy weights within them. Oh Clay, why couldn’t I be the one you loved?

lDream’s P.O.Vl

Hearing my ringtone from deep in my slumber, I go to answer it, but it suddenly goes off despite me having answered. Putting my phone to my ear I hear the saddest voice speaking on the other end of the line. I knew who it was the moment they referred to me as Clay. Why is Y/n calling me this late at night? I thought, sitting up in my bed with a bad feeling in my stomach. After listening to a bit more of the message, I immediately shove on my shoes and bolt out of my house. Hanging up on my end of the line I hurriedly redial Y/n’s number with the hope that she answers, but the line just continues to ring. Hundreds of thoughts run through my mind, but none could answer the question of why this was happening. She was just fine a few hours ago! What changed?

Slamming open the door to her house, I run straight to her bedroom, praying she hasn’t done anything stupid. However, every thought I had on the way here comes crashing down as soon as I see her. She is laying flat on her back in her bed, a bottle of pills spilled next to her. If it wasn’t for the bright white rose that had bloomed out of her mouth, I would have thought she was sleeping, but the grim truth is that is not the case. Stumbling over my own feet as I walk towards her, I begin to sob. How could I not when seeing the girl I love lying on her deathbed because of me?

“Y/n, I’m so sorry...I wish I could have saved you…” I sob out to her, holding her chilled hand in my warm one, “I should have just manned up and told you that...that I love you.”

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XVII

Chapter: 17/28

Rating: T (Violence Warning)

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

"So the best thing I can think of right now is that we need to get one of their guys in here so we can jump them. The door's locked, so it's the only real way of getting out of here." George explained, he was holding Ringo's hand as he spoke "Normally I would think it was too obvious, but I don't think these guys are exactly the brightest."

"So how do you plan on doing that?" Ringo asked, they were both seated on the floor with their legs crossed.

"Well, we can make them think something's gone wrong, like you've hurt yourself or something. Then they have to check on us, because if one of us dies they lose their bargaining chip."

"Why am I the one that has to get hurt?"

"You're already pretty beaten up, love." George said as he stroked Ringo's bruised face gently "And they already don't trust me."

"Will it work?"

"It's the only real plan we've got, unless you can think of something."

Ringo shook his head, he was surprised he'd even come up with the belt idea considering how out of his depth he was. George just smiled at him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I'll wait behind the door, then when they come in I should be able to get the jump on them. Fingers crossed they have a gun, that'll improve our chances by a long way." George stood up slowly and offered his hand to help Ringo up, which he took gladly "I don't know how many guys they've got here, but I'm guessing it's the same five from the club."

"So then what? We take on the other four guys and make a run for it? What if there's more of them?"

"Well, there's no we about it, love. I'm not gonna let yourself get hurt again. Let me handle it."

Ringo rolled his eyes "So I just wait for you here like some damsel in distress? I don't think so."

"Ringo, don't say it like that... I just want to protect you."

"I know, my love, but it's probably safer if we stick together anyway. You head out first and I'll follow you, the least you can let me do is watch your back. Don't forget that I want to protect you too."

George smiled sadly then nodded "Fine, we'll do it your way." He made his way to the wall beside the door, pressing himself against it to make his body as flat as possible.

George undid his belt and took it off, wielding it in both hands as a makeshift weapon. He looked over at Ringo who shakily made his way back to the floor, turning his body from the door to be as hidden as possible. A few moments of silenced passed as Ringo turned over ideas in his head about the best way to go about it all, then he heard George cough quietly behind him and it shook him from his thoughts. Ringo took a deep breath then cried out at the top of his lungs.

"Aaaaaah! Oh God! I'm bleeding, fuck, help me!" Ringo shrieked and he could hear George trying to hold back a laugh "Jesus Christ! I'm fucking bleeding, I'm gonna die!"

Ringo continued cycling through this mixture of phrases before a banging came at the door.

"What's going on in there?" A rough voice asked.

"Ringo's really hurt himself, he's bleeding all over the place!" George cried out desperately.

"Well how's he done that?" The voice sounded impatient.

"I don't fucking know, but if you don't get in here he's gonna die!" George tightened his grip on the belt in his hands.

Ringo could hear the sound of the key turning in the lock, and he began to rock dramatically while he forced a continuous stream of pained groans. The door opened and a figure stepped in, but he clearly hadn't moved into the room as much as George had anticipated for he had to kick him forward as best he could from his position, whilst closing the door, before he could even get the belt around his neck. Ringo jumped up immediately, it was a very strange sight to see George like this, but he didn't have any time to stop and stare.

"Search him, Ringo, see if he has a weapon." George grunted as he pulled the belt tightly down on the man's neck who struggled defiantly.

Ringo stepped forward panicked, lifting the man's jacket to find a gun which he quickly retrieved and held at arm's length. He rooted in his pockets as quickly as he could manage, finding a small switchblade, then jumped backwards to distance himself.

"Give me the knife." George said bluntly, his method clearly wasn't working as anything but a restraint for the man showed no sign of weakening.

Ringo slid the knife into George's hand as he dropped the belt to the ground and in one fluid motion he flicked the blade up and thrust it into the man's back. He held the knife in there for a few seconds as he supported the man's weight on his own, then yanked it out and let the body fall to the floor. Ringo's eyes were wide and he could feel his skin whitening. Blood began trickling out of the wound and had already stained George's hand somewhat. George looked at Ringo with a dark expression, and took the gun from his hand.

"I'm sorry, Ringo, I didn't want you to see any of this. But we've got to get out of here, now." George pressed his ear against the door to try and listen for any movement.

"Did you have to kill him?" Ringo asked, his voice a mere whisper.

"Better him than us." George said bluntly "You can't afford to take that risk in a situation like this. Now please, we've gotta go."

Ringo nodded absently, he tried his best to wake his brain back up but it felt like it was slipping. He'd never seen anything like that before, and what was troubling him more than anything is how quickly it all happened. One second the man was alive and the next he wasn't. It was difficult to comprehend, especially with the already troublesome situation he was in, but he knew he had to carry on.

George opened the door slowly and peeked out carefully. Outside the door was a long hallway which had two doors leading out of it. It was empty, for now at least, and George turned back into the room.

"Ringo, love, I know this is a lot right now, but I need you to stay strong for me, alright?" He looked sympathetic, but Ringo couldn't stop looking at the blood on his hand "I'm gonna take the gun, but I want you to have the knife, just in case."

George placed the knife cautiously into Ringo's hand, it felt very strange to be holding it but he gripped it tightly nonetheless. He had to shake himself out of this, even with the feeling of the warm blood on the handle pressing against his palm. He looked up at George somewhat determinedly and gave him another nod. George started to walk out of the room slowly then, being very careful not to make any noise as he stepped down the hall. It was eerily quiet, Ringo thought, but then again he had nothing to compare his current situation to. They walked behind one another, taking small slow steps to the door closest to them. George pressed his ear against it then pulled away with a confused expression.

"Nothing?" Ringo mouthed and George shook his head.

Ringo caught up behind George and whispered in his ear "Maybe they've left?"

"I wouldn't count on it, but it's dead silent in there." George kept his voice low "Mayb-"

George was cut off by a sound Ringo was regrettably becoming familiar with, a gun shot. It seemed to come from the room George had listened in on, and it made Ringo jump. He looked at George in alarm, but he too looked confused.

"It could be the police." George whispered.

"That's good isn't it?"

"Not for me."

"Well what do we do?"

"Just follow me, and stay quiet."

George pressed against the door once more when another gun shot rang out. It was followed by several others and there were cries and shouts breaking through the door. Then silence fell once more and George pressed his body against the wall as he had done earlier, and pulled Ringo back to do the same. Mumbling could be heard behind the door, approaching footsteps too. George held the gun up and Ringo gripped his knife, he wasn't sure how much he'd actually be able to do but he'd be damned if he was going to do nothing.

The door opened slowly and the sound of footsteps made their way into the hall. One figure emerged from behind the door and George hit them roughly on the top of the head with the butt of his gun and the man cried out in pain.

"Up against the wall and put your hands up!" George shouted, Ringo had never heard his voice like that before.

Another figure had rushed into the hall now, it was difficult to see their faces in the low light. The wounded man fell down somewhat and the second figure rushed over to them immediately, they seemed to have no interest in following George's order nor in attacking them.

"That's a funny way to say thank you." The wounded man spoke and Ringo let out a large breath when he recognised the voice as John.

George gasped and almost dropped the gun, rushing over to help John to his feet. Unsurprisingly Paul was the second figure, the two of them looked fairly ruffled but with no real injuries.

"Wha- How did you-" George stammered.

"You can thank us later, but right now we need to get out of here. It's only a matter of time before the police show up." Paul sounded as gentle as always, even with a gun in his hand.

Ringo stepped forward then, he felt like he'd been somewhat invisible during this reunion of the three and Paul looked up at him worriedly "Jesus, Ringo! They did a real number on you. You're not seriously hurt are you?"

"No." Ringo laughed "Bashed my pretty face up pretty good though. All I need right now is a bath and some sleep."

"A drink wouldn't hurt either." George chuckled, pulling Ringo closer to him.

"Right, well my car's just round the corner, let's head back to yours George and we can call someone from there." Paul explained.

They all nodded in response, Paul heading out of the hallway first followed by John, then George ensured Ringo walked ahead of him before leaving himself. If Ringo had thought seeing that man die before was haunting, the sight of the next room was a whole other world of horror. It was a garage of sorts, and the door had been roughly forced upwards to about half-height, with sparce furniture dotted around. The other four men lay dead throughout the room, lifelessly collapsing against a wall or lying flat on the floor as blood spilled out of them. Ringo gasped at the sight and George instinctively held him close, gripping at his hand as he led him over the puddles of blood. Ringo had never seen anything like it, not even in films or television or even his nightmares. It was so confusing to Ringo to think that Paul and John had achieved this, and showed no sign of remorse about it. Had they deserved it? It was a difficult question to ask, especially when his own life was potentially on the line. Ringo just closed his eyes and allowed George to guide him, he pressed his face to George's chest and focused on the smell of him until they were out on the street.

The cold, night air hit Ringo soberingly and he opened his eyes slowly. George was still holding him close as they approached Paul's car. John looked back at Ringo and George a few times, he looked somewhat feral with his pupils big and a wolfish grin on his face. Paul slid into the driver's seat, with John sitting beside him while George carefully guided Ringo into the back. They all collectively let out a breath when they relaxed in their chairs.

"Now, nobody's seriously hurt are they? Cause I can head to the doctor's if need be." Paul asked casually.

"And Paulie won't want blood over his fancy seats." John chuckled, turning around to laugh with George.

"I think we're fine, aren't we Ringo?" George asked, his arm was around Ringo tightly.

"I've been better." Ringo smiled weakly, his head against George's chest.

"Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix." Paul said sweetly, turning the ignition on.

"And some whiskey, a lot of whiskey." John laughed again as the car began to speed off into the night.

"So what happened? Did you guys follow the cars?" George asked, he was running his finger over Ringo's hip in slow circles.

"Well, when we heard the gunshots John got a little... Excited, should we say?" Paul began, passing a loving gaze to the man beside him "He whipped out his knife and was looking around for whoever shot, but it was impossible to see with everyone running and screaming."

"I'm a man of action, sue me." John said proudly.

"I managed to drag him out of there, the last thing that situation needed was John off his face on coke swinging a knife around." Paul chuckled, Ringo found it peculiar how they could make light of such dark situations "Then we looked around for you and Ringo. One of the band members came up to us and asked if we'd seen you, George, and when we said we hadn't he told us Ringo was trying to look for you."

"All very romantic like." John said, passing a glance to the two very intimate couple in the backseat, Ringo supposed him and Paul must always tell stories this way.

"So we waited outside for a while, but there was no sign of you. By the time we decided to go in and have a look, you were already being tossed into the boot. We rushed to my car right quick and followed them." Paul explained "I'm beginning to wonder if all they know how to do is beat people up and kidnap them."

"Well they aren't even very good at that." George laughed.

"Then we waited for a while to see what was going on. We figured there weren't any more guys in the building, seemed pretty empty." Paul spoke absently, his eyes on the road.

"And what happened next you saw on your way out." John chuckled "They really are stupid, these lot. If they carry on like this there won't be any of them left!"

There was silence for a while before Paul spoke again "I'm just sorry you got caught up in all this Ringo, we should've been more alert tonight. I can only apologise."

"It's fine... Think I just need to get used to the fact that being with this one means trouble's gonna follow." Ringo looked up at George, his hand on his chest, who just smiled down at him.

"George always did have a talent for trouble." John mimicked an older woman's voice and it set them all laughing.

It wasn't too long before they arrived at their building, Ringo had calmed down considerably in the presence of the three others laughing and joking with one another. Despite seeing what he had tonight, and what George had done, he still felt safer than ever before pressed up against him. When the car came to a halt, George pressed a soft kiss on the top of Ringo's head before slowly pulling away from him. Paul and John got out of the car quickly, leaving the two of them alone in the back.

"Are you alright? If you want to go home I can drive you, or call a taxi if you'd like. I won't be offended." George spoke softly.

"No, no, don't be silly. I'm just gonna be a bit shaken up for a while, you know?" Ringo smiled up at him, taking his hand into his own.

"I understand. I reacted the same way the first time I saw something like that, unfortunately you just have to get used to it. But you should never have seen that in the first place, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for putting you through that."

"Please don't blame yourself. At the end of the day you were just protecting me, and yourself. I knew what I was getting into when I started seeing you, I'm not about to run away now."

George opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the car door being opened and John sticking his face inside "There'll be plenty of time to cry and suck each other off upstairs, alright? Get a move on, I want a drink."

"Oh, piss off." George laughed as he opened the car door on his side.

The two of them shuffled out of the car, George helping Ringo onto his feet as always. The two of them held hands as they walked into the lobby, and the pain of Ringo's injuries really started to sink in; his legs were weak and his face felt like it was on fire, his stomach throbbing in agony. What amazed him was that this didn't qualify as being 'seriously hurt' and he didn't want to imagine how painful it must feel to be stabbed, or even worse.

The conversation remained light as they travelled up in the lift, John and Paul seemed as happy as ever. George unlocked his front door and they piled in, Ringo collapsing onto the sofa and Paul taking the nearest chair. John vanished into the kitchen in search of alcohol, returning with a bottle and four glasses which he generously filled. Ringo took a large swig of his drink before George came to sit beside him.

"Who's gonna call?" George asked, taking a similarly large gulp.

"I suppose it'll be me, as always." Paul rolled his eyes humorously.

"It's only cause you've got such a way with words, Paulie." John batted his eyelashes playfully and Paul responded by giving him a short kiss on the lips.

Paul stood up then, finishing his drink in one motion before searching for the telephone. John put his legs up on the table as he drank, Ringo had never seen him look more relaxed.

"Now, let me get a proper look at you." George said, turning his body to face Ringo.

George gently brushed Ringo's hair away from his face and placed a hand on Ringo's cheek to inspect his injuries. His nose had taken a nasty knock, it had been bleeding before but it had stopped now, his lip was cut and his cheeks bruised but that was about it. Ringo imagined it looked nowhere near as bad as it felt. George's hands moved down then and began undoing Ringo's tie.

"May I?" George asked somewhat sarcastically.

Ringo glanced over to John who just called out "Don't mind me."

Ringo nodded and George gently began taking off Ringo's jacket, tie and shirt. Underneath an array of bruises were revealed, mostly on his stomach and George frowned as he looked at them.

"Those bastards." He growled, running his fingers gently over Ringo's skin "I'm so sorry, love."

"Better than a bullet in the brain, I suppose." Ringo smiled, though he was a little worried by the sight of the bruises.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" George asked gently, carefully putting Ringo's shirt back on for him.

"Only if you'll join me." Ringo said sweetly, he didn't want it to sound sexual even if it wasn't a completely innocent request, he just didn't really want to be alone right now.

"God, Ringo, you narrowly escape death and your first thought is getting your rocks off?" John laughed "Maybe we're more alike than I thought."

"Oh, shut up." Ringo chuckled "It's not like that, not completely anyway."

George stood up then, rubbing Ringo's cheeky softy as he did "I best get the bath running, then."

"It's the least you can do really, after getting me kidnapped and mercilessly beaten." Ringo feigned being upset, turning his head dramatically away from George.

"Don't you worry, I'll find some way to make it up to you." George winked before heading off to the bathroom.

Ringo just laughed to himself as he settled into the sofa once again, stretching out his aching legs. He took hold of his glass once again, signalling a cheers to John before they both took another hearty sip.

"I suppose you're one of us now." John said, Ringo had never heard his voice so plain before.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, the man upstairs is gonna wanna speak to you. I wouldn't be surprised if he let you in on the whole thing."

"Oh, really? I dunno if I'm cut out for all that."

"Don't be so modest. Any sane person would've run out of that club the first chance they got, but you stayed. You stayed for George, even when you knew it'd put you in danger." John spoke somewhat quietly, as if it was a secret "Sounds to me like you might be perfect for it."

There was a glimmer in his eye and Ringo wasn't sure what to think, maybe it was just the alcohol and adrenaline talking "Think I'll stick to my drumming for now."

"Who says you can't do both?" John smiled at him "I just wanna prepare you in case it gets brought up, he can be very convincing. And when he sees how much you mean to George, he's gonna want you to be part of the family."

"Sounds a bit like a cult." Ringo joked.

"Suppose it is, in a way. Except you get paid a fuck ton of money to do almost nothing and the police are always after you. It's just like being in politics." John beamed, Ringo laughed and wondered if he used that joke a lot.

"Maybe I'll give it some thought." Ringo said quietly.

George returned from the bathroom now, his jacket had been taken off and his sleeves rolled up "Ready?" He asked, he looked quite excited.

"After you, my love."

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 71

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Shotgun

Word Count: 5800+

Summary:  Gen has some problematic dreams, George decides to make a move and Alfie is there to help pick up the pieces as Gen loses herself in her anxieties.

Warnings/Tags: References to non-con/Implied actions. Language. Violence. Then domestic fluff. Protector/Caregiver Alfie. 

**Chapter song is Shotgun by Spoon.**

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You sit at the head of the table in your ornate dining room, the morning sun streaming in through the windows. Your posture slumps after a strong yawn as you pick through your bowl of berries and cream. You didn’t want something sweet but the eggs were also not hitting the spot. You pick at the pork-free classic English breakfast in front of you, the toast being the only thing you didn’t want to spit back out.

“What’s wrong with you?” Claire demands, finally settling into a seat after seeing her move about the house all morning.

“Not sleeping well.” You sigh, pushing around the beans on your plate.

“Any reason?” She says with a casual tone but you shift your eyes over to her anyway.

“Dreams.” You answer flatly.

“Are dreams responsible for you being so picky with your food as well?”

“I’m tired and nothing sounds good.” You mutter childishly.

“Are These dreams something I should be informed of?”

You shrug. “They’re abstract.” You groan and push away the plate. “I’m trapped in darkness. There are these sets of glowing eyes moving around and I can’t tell anything about them. I hear men’s voices, lots of different ones, but the eyes aren't human eyes. It feels like something is wrong, but I don’t know what. I keep getting moved around but I can’t feel anything or see anything. Then I hear Alfie's voice and it stops.”

“What does he say?”

“It changes. Sometimes it’s gibberish, sometimes my name.” You shrug. “Then I’m suddenly back at home after feeling like I’m falling and getting dizzy. He’s in bed with me and telling me it’s okay. He’s there. Nothing bad is going to happen to us as long as he’s there. That’s what he keeps saying. Sometimes in Hebrew, sometimes not.”

“A dream within a dream?”

“So it would seem.”

“Interesting.” She nods and hums. “Reoccurring?”

“Yes. I always wake up nauseous and panting like I’ve been running. And I feel like hell the next day. But I have had a lovely dream about being in France with Altar though. Sitting in the lavender fields from my childhood, he comes and picks me up and spins me until I’m dizzy and laughing and when I open my eyes he’s turned into Alfie.” You give a content smile. “That one is rather nice though. Doesn’t keep me from sleep.” You shake your head.

“Does sound nice. Especially in comparison to the others. But it’s nice Alfie seems to be a protective figure in them.”

“He’s in my dreams a lot.”

“Good and bad?”

“Yes, some are just common nonsense. Some are sexual. Some are tragic.”

“Tragic?”

“Yes ones where I die or he dies.” You frown.

“And those aren’t prophetic you think?”

“No, the prophetic ones feel different usually. I don’t fade in and out of them they come hard and wake me up after. They don’t feel... dreamy like dreams do.”

“You must be tired.” She chuckles. “Dreamy like dreams is entirely lazy and beneath you.” She pats your hand.

“Well, I am tired, Claire. I’m tired and thus irritable and it makes me want to act like a child and pout. I hate it."

“You aren’t the only one.” She laughs. ———— You go to bed early and sleep hard that night. A dreamless sleep. Something you’re extremely grateful for.

The sound of your door opening wakes you. You stir only slightly, hearing boots on the floor and murmuring.

“Alfie love? I wasn’t expecting you until morning.” You say with a yawn, rubbing your eyes. But when the footsteps stop and you move your hand from your face it’s clear the silhouette it isn’t Alfies.

“Not your Solomons, love.” The man's voice says, a dark laugh coming from him as he gets closer. You move to reach for the dagger under your pillow that you keep when Alfie isn’t there. But he moves too quickly for you in your tired and sleepy state. He holds you down, mouth over your hand as you struggle against him, resting his weight on his knees on your body. “I’m not here to kill you Genevieve. I’m here to serve as a warning. George wants to let you know he has people that can get to you. That's all. Has people that can get to your little Jew beau. He doesn’t want to have to hurt you.” he pauses as you still and listen to him, your hand trying to find the dagger that’s been displaced in the struggle. “I'm guessing he thought I was a better man than I am. Sending me to test how easy it would be to get to you. Which it was not.” He adds as if he was impressed. “And I think I deserve a little reward for all my hard work. What do you think? I don’t think George would care if I had a little fun. Not with how he spoke of you. Don't think you'd mind either.” his voice is low and breathy and you growl, thrashing and kicking against him as you felt his clammy hand touch your skin. “So odd he speaks of you so poorly but doesn’t want you hurt. Makes no sense to me. Seems like you could take a bit of abuse. Fiesty thing.” He grunts out as your retort throws him off balance, giving you a chance to bite his hand and you do not hold back. The metallic tang makes you feral, feeling it drip down your chin as you keep hold like a trained dog and rip his flesh. He responds in anger, knocking you sideways, but you see the glint of the dagger and reach for it, taking it and stabbing it blindly at him.

You black out from rage. The next thing you know you’re being held back, covered in blood, the dagger still in your hand as you take in the scene in front of you. You’d sawed the man's head off, blood everywhere on your carpet and bed. He was covered in deep gouges, a particularly large cluster between his legs. His head had been thrown against a wall, a splatter on the stone and filigree that didn’t look that out of place among the black and red velvet and paintings of violence.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!” You finally register from Claire as she shakes your shoulders. She sees you blink rapidly, face moving from stone to angry and she knows you’re back. “What the fuck happened here?!”

“He said George sent him.” You spit out and Aggie gasps, her hand to her mouth. She never thought the man would try to actually harm you in any way. “He said he wasn’t going to hurt me. Then he said he was going to...” your nostrils flare and you growl to push back the nausea the thought sends your way.

“I get it. I get it.” Claire says. “Can we... get this cleaned up?” She asks of one of the guards that had been summoned when the noises of two animals fighting were heard.

“No.” You demand through gritted teeth. “Take his fucking head and put it in a box and mail it to my father.” You state clearly. The boy blinks with wide eyes at the request.

“Genevieve perhaps when you've had time to-“

“DO IT!” You shout, rage burning through your veins. He didn’t want to hurt you? Only scare you? Well, you could certainly scare him. You knock Claire back and move to your desk, the blood on your hands all over the paper and pen you withdrew from the drawer, slamming them down with force into the desktop.

“If you think you can threaten me. You are wrong. If you think you can threaten Alfie Solomons. You are the stupidest man in existence. If I so much as hear from you again. If I am approached by anyone, given anything from you I promise the next head cut off will be yours. I will reign down hell on you and anyone that supports you. I will tell everyone you sent a man to threaten and rape your own daughter for practicing a religion that was hidden from her that she was blessed with through blood. I will send names out of every man you ever took their word over mine. I will scream it to the ends of the earth what a monster you are. I have witnesses now. I have proof and you will have nothing left once I am done with you. Not even your fucking head.”

You throw the pen across the room in your anger and scream again. The emotions not subsiding. “Send that with the head.” You snarl at Claire as you storm out of the room. She hears your screams traveling through the hallways, a door slamming before they go silent.

“You heard her.” She sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t believe he’d do this.” Aggie says, face still pale with shock.

“We'll have to wait for her to cool before we find out exactly what happened.” Claire tries to remain diplomatic and level headed. That was her role after all.

“We should call Mr. Solomons.” Aggie says quietly. “He would want to know.”

Claire nods, looking at the doorway you’d ran out of. “Yeah. It’ll take him to snap her out of this.”

“The poor thing.” Aggie's voice full of pity for you. As was her way. “Let’s get this cleaned up as quickly as we can. The sooner there’s no evidence to better. We need to make it look like this never happened.”

“And call all the guards. I’ll interview more this week. And we’ll need guns. Everyone will have a gun now.” She groans. She hated guns but knew they were necessary at this point.

“I don’t know how he got in.” The boy picking up the man’s body says.

“I figure come morning we will find out.” She says with an indifferent face. “Do as I said. Do a head check. Get times and locations from all the men on guard right now.” She gives him a stern nod.

“Yes ma’am.” He says with an apologetic look.

“I’ll go check on her and call Alfie.” Claire mumbles, following the sounds of your screams. She sees maids scurrying away from the garden.

“What’s happened?!” They all ask, clutching their dressing gowns together.

“There’s been an intruder. The situation is over now but she’s very... angry about it.” She grits out the last words. “Tell the other girls to go back to bed and lock their doors. Nothing we can do right now.” She leaves them and walks out over the stone steps where you’re holding a pipe and knocking it against a stone statue as you screamed wordlessly. “Genevieve I’m going to call Alfie.” She announces to deaf ears. Seeing no reaction let her know you were gone yet again. --- “Alfie?”

“What fuckin' time is it? What’s happened?” He gruffs out, brow low as he stumbled his way to the telephone in the dark.

“It’s Genevieve.”

She hears an audible breath and his tone totally changes. “What’s happened?” he demands

“There was an intruder. Physically she’s fine but...”

“BUT?!” He shouts.

“She won’t stop screaming in anger. She’s... you should come over. I think you’re the only hope at getting through to her. She won’t even respond to me.”

“But she’s okay?”

“I don’t believe she’s hurt no.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I fuckin' can.” He answers exasperatedly. ——— He walks into the scene. There are guards that greet him with apologetic nods as he walks through the door. Not a good sign, he thought. He stands in the lobby, Aggie finding him first, carrying bedsheets covered in blood and his eyes widen.

"Not her blood, dear." she answers, with a sympathetic smile. She knew what he would be worrying about. "We're trying to clean up the scene and secure the house. The chaos should die down shortly. She's outside." she nods and resituates the sheets in her arms. "Just follow the screaming." she shakes her head and sighs as she trots off down the hall.

His brow is low, taking in the scene with unfriendly eyes, wanting someone to blame but not being able to find it just yet. He walks further into the house and hears loud metallic thuds. Something hitting against stone as he follows the sound and soon he hears you and your noises of outrage.

You've taken a lead pipe, he's assuming from the greenhouse that was almost finished and attacking a statue in your garden. You weren't making much progress but he highly doubted your motive was to rid the pedestal of the statue. You're covered in blood and sweat, your dressing gown loose and moving about and flashing him bits of skin and he wishes he could take the image in without the dark overtones that were in the air.

"Gen?" he says tentatively, walking down the steps, keeping his eyes on you. You grunt and growl and shout as you lift the pipe over and over again, using your entire body to knock it against the already armless Venus statue. "Genny bee?" he offers in a sweet tone, not sure how to approach you without getting hit himself. You hadn't even given him a reason to think you'd heard him at all. "GENEVIEVE!" he says loudly but not threateningly. "It's your Alfie, love. Can ya stop tryin to take off the poor lass's legs as well, it's already been through enough innit?" he gets closer, taking cautious steps back as your swings slow but do not stop. "Can ya talk to me and keep swingin' at least? I'd like to know you're alright."

"I'M NOT ALL BLOODY RIGHT!" you shout, your energy back again as the rage starts to turn to pain.

"Are you hurt? They told me you weren't." he steps closer, he sees the strain in your arms as they shake and your chest heaves.

"Not my body," you answer as you let the pipe hit the ground, tears starting to well up in your eyes. "Although he tried." you spit out, picking the pipe up again and giving a weaker, less controlled hit to the statue.

"You wanna tell me? You wanna hand over the weapon so I can get near you love? I'd like to be able to comfort you somehow." he admits, coming up on your side.

"You don't want to know." you choke out, lip trembling but brow hard and eyes still furious. You give the statue another exhausted wack.

"Can we stop hittin' the statue, you're gonna be hurt if you keep doin' that." he says in an authoritative voice.

"If I stop I have to think. I don't want to think." you say with a break in your voice and he frowns, hearing the underlying hurt now.

"Then let me take care of you, love. Let me do the thinkin' for ya for a bit." he says, his hand reaching out to touch yours that held the pipe as its end rested on the ground.

Your head snaps over to it, you flinch only slightly, mainly from the instinct to lash out at anything in the moment of heightened emotion. As he takes it from your bloody and now you see, injured hand, he tosses it out of reach and as he begins to pull you towards him you feel your mood shift fully, a sob rising from your chest as he pulls you against his.

"There, there, love. Let it out." he shushes and holds you, his hand on your head as he kisses your hair. "I'm here love. Ain't nothin' gonna get ya as long as I'm here, eh?" he says, rubbing your back and he feels you jump. "Genevieve, pet, are you alright? You sure you're not hurt?" he pulls you back and holds your cheek, seeing the dried blood around your mouth and down your neck, wondering what the hell had happened.

You stare at him with fear in your eyes and he's concerned you'd taken a knock to the head with your mood swings. You were scared because he was saying what he had in your dream. "No. I'm not." you shake your head, face wet with tears.

"Now, now, my love." he coos, pulling you back in. "You want to get a bath? Get all this off of ya? Start new? It'll help ya process it. I know your muscles must be achin' from all this."

They were, and he was right. "Can you hold me for a bit?" you ask, feeling terribly small. Exhaustion hitting you hard again.

"Sweet little Chanah." he whispers, kissing your head, gathering your wild mane of hair and pulling the shoulders of your satin dressing gown back up. "Of course. Anything you want, love. You want me to carry you back in?" he asks, looking down at your tired but somehow innocent looking face. You looked like a helpless victim and even though he knew you were far from it, he felt a surge of protectiveness over you.

"Please." you say, giving over to the sadness that washed over you with tiredness.

He picks you up and cradles you like a child, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his jacket and breathe.

"How in the hell do you do it?" Claire says in disbelief, walking out of your bedroom with buckets of red water.

"What?" he asks, readjusting his hold on you and you grunt in response, paying no mind to Claire but focusing on the way he smelled as it calmed you.

"Calm her down like that. She tried to take my head off." she frowns.

"Lucky I suppose." he purses his lips together. "Can we go in? I'm gonna get her in the bath."

"Yeah." she nods. "It's all cleaned up." she steps out of the way and he moves past the girls scrubbing the floors. They pay him no mind as he sets you on a bench in your bathroom.

"I'm gonna take my stuff off and I'll be right back. I'll just be outside. That alright?" he asks, holding your chin up to him and nodding.

He moves into the bedroom. "What's the damage?" he asks after closing the bathroom door behind him, taking his hat and coat off.

"Take a look in the box and see." one maid says with high brows and a mixture of surprise and annoyance on her face.

"Hmph?" he grunts, moving over to your desk. "He opens the top, seeing the head inside and nods and sighs. "Yeah," he says to no one in particular. "That checks out dunnit?" he shrugs off his suspenders and sets his shoes by the bed down to his shirt and trousers now. "Alright love." he says, clapping his hands together and moving to the tub and turning it on. "How ya want to go 'bout it? Want me in with ya? Want me outside the room? What ya need, little one?" he says, hoisting you up and moving you over by the toilet, ready to take

"I need this night to be over. I need some fucking rest." you groan, having flashes of the surprise attack come again before your eyes. You moan and rub your eyes.

"We can do just 'at after a good bath. Ya need to relax, ya shakin' like a leaf." he says, holding your hands.

"I don't feel well." you say with a contorted face.

"I'd say not. Gettin' attacked in ya own home. No one handles that well. Especially not someone that keeps a house as well as you." he says with pride for your measures of safety. He wasn't sure how a man had gotten in, but then again, he hadn't been sure how a bomb got in his house so he tries not to think about it too much. He wants to focus on you.

"No I mean..." you feel your stomach lurch again. "I'm going to be sick." you say with a deep breath, turning towards the toilet and standing with one hand on the wall.

"Fuckin' 'ell love. What happened? Ya have such a capacity for violence ususally." he says with concern, pulling your hair back in anticipation.

"I haven't been sleeping." you reply with closed eyes, shaking your head, making you dizzy. "I'm exhausted and then this and he..." you remember him on top of you and the wave of nausea hits, you let yourself drop to your knees and Alfie frowns, rubbing your back.

"Ya don't gotta talk about it if it's makin' ya ill." he says obviously.

"I do. You need to know." you groan and lean forward, feeling it coming on again.

"Worry 'bout it in the bath. Just get the evil out right now." he sees your face contort again as you get sick into the toilet. You can hear him sigh, reaching and grabbing a washcloth from the sink.

"I haven't even eaten anything, how do I have anything to-" you throw up again and it burns, bile that brings a pounding of your head.

"Shush. It happens love. It's shock. I saw it plenty in the war. Just let it pass. You'll be fine. Don't fight it." he instructs, as you gag and take the cloth from him, sitting back on your heels.

"I feel like hell." you mumble, holding the cloth to your face. It smells of lavender and you find it comforting. "Can you put some flower in the bath, darling?" you say with closed eyes, your hand to your forehead.

"Course." he answers, rising and turning off the tub, breaking up the stalk of lavender from the plant that still thrived in the window he'd gotten you so long ago.

"Help me in." you say quietly, dropping the dressing gown as he helps every limb into the tub, sitting you down slowly like he had when you were injured before. You remember how caring he was last time and it calmed you. "You can get in as well." you say, blinking up at him, your face now slack and less hurt as you wipe it with the cloth he'd handed you. The warm water feels amazing, the cold night air had tightened your muscles, the shock had frozen them in a tense hold and now you were left trying to process. Your least favorite part of recovery.

He slinks in behind you, knowing it's what you'd want. Without a word he washes you, pouring water down your hair, the flowers and oils he put in helping conceal the pink color from the blood.

"Thank you." you whisper, settling back against him. He wraps his arms around you as you rest between his legs. "This helps." you nod, snuggling into him, holding his forearms as they wrapped around you. "Having you here." your voice is weak and breathy.

"You should get used to it." he states and you blink your eyes open and lean to look up at him.

"Hmmm?" you ask with tired eyes.

"I'm gonna move back in." he says with a stern nod.

Your lip pouts in thought, looking away from him for a moment. You hadn't expected it. But it did make perfect sense.

"I want to." he reaffirms. "Is that alright with you? I'd like to be here for you. To protect you. I should've already done it. I just..." he shrugs and sighs. "I've just been worried about everfin' else I just thought it might be able to wait until after the wedding."

"An attempt to stay traditional." you smile up at him.

"I know what we are doesn't mesh well with the customs but I wanted to be as right as reason would allow for you, Chanah." he says with guilt in his voice.

The way he says your name soothes you. "Ari, love." you say softly, face nuzzling into his chest. "Keep your house for the week of separation. That we can do." you nod. "Don't worry about the time up until then," you say with a soft smile. "We aren't traditional. You are right." you nod again. "We want to be together. So we should I believe. I would like to have you in my bed every night." you hum happily. "I would love to see you off to work in the morning." you smile wider. "Make you breakfast like I did at your place."

"Sounds like a dream, love." he says supportively. "I'm stayin' tonight. Well, what's left of it. Tomorrow I'll get my things brought over, yeah?"

"Yes." you nod. "And about tonight?"

"Don't make yourself sick again, pet." he says, stroking back your wet hair with his hand, kissing your head.

"I need to tell you. Perhaps talking will help." you shrug. "It will make you so angry this tub will boil from your red hot temper." you warn, holding his hand in yours.

"I had assumed as much." he sighs.

You tell him everything, the suggestion of defiling you, how George had sent him but said he didn't want to hurt you. Which meant a lot of things. You show him the letter as he gathers a sleeping gown for you and puts it on you. The room now clean and clear, the fire bright and roaring, clean sheets and his arms tight around you let you fall into a restful sleep. So restful he's able to pull himself away from you for a moment to use the phone.

"Yeah, she's fine Ollie." he says dismissively. "But I need you to get some boys together and do some surveillance for me. I want you to go up north to her fathers, George Greene. Make sure ya don't follow her brother of the same name." he states harshly as the mistake would not be made twice. "I want a watch on this man. I want names of who he meets, who comes and goes from his house, I want constant monitoring of him. I want the boys armed and ready to go if I ever say so. She may think he'll stop after this but I'm not takin' the fuckin' chance." he growls.

He comes back to bed, you mewling only slightly as he pulls you back into his chest, his face in your braided hair, his limbs wrapped in yours, feeling so defensive and protective over you. He'd never seen you get sick over something like this before, but then again, he believes he understood why it did. It wasn't just violence. It was the personal touch to it, the threats he'd made, the underlying hurt and betrayal you still felt from your father. He felt guilty for not being there, although he knew there was no use for such a feeling. He would be there now. Every night he'd be there with you and he wouldn't let anyone touch you again.

----- The feelings of possessiveness always follow him into his dreams and into the morning with you in his bed. He wakes to find the bed empty next to him, seeing the bedroom door open. He doesn't assume the worst, he knew everyone was on high alert. He pads through the halls, pajamas on that you'd bought for him and kept at your place, same as he had done for you at his. So when a shirtless, sleepy-eyed Alfie walks into the kitchen, following the smell you turn and smile. You got to do this every day if you wanted. It felt so perfectly domestic. Something you'd missed out on growing up. Making him breakfast felt so intimate for you. You'd never really cooked for anyone else before and with the Rabbi's instruction you'd been cooking every chance you got. You were trying to learn new skills that your upbringing had passed over in teaching, wanting to expand your abilities and learn how to be someone more nurturing. Someone who could take care of a family herself. You wanted to be a strong matriarch. A pillar for a family who made a house a home through her actions and words. And Alfie soon picked up on this.

Most mornings you would be up before him, as he had the habit of coming home late. But you didn't mind so much, you got him in your bed every night and in your kitchen every morning and that's what truly made you happy nowadays.

"Mornin, love." he grumbles, a kiss to your head as he pats your shoulders from behind as you watch over the stove.

"Good morning, darling." you coo, watching him shuffle over to the small table in the kitchen.

"What's in the diary for today?" he asks, pulling the paper over towards him.

"Nothing for me. Ollie said you had business meetings today."

"Nothing for you?" he asks, trying not to sound scolding. Ever since the break-in you'd not really left the house much. He didn't want to push you at first, but it was starting to worry him. You seemed happy, but you kept having Claire handle everything and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Just seeing to the greenhouse. Poor Essie isn't doing too well I'm afraid. I'll be spending some time with her in the barn." you say in a more sad tone, accepting the long relationship between you and your childhood horse would be coming to its natural conclusion soon.

"You've been around the house so much lately, love." he says, beginning to stand, moving to rest his hands on your hips. "Wouldn't you like to get out a bit?" he asks with a kind tone, putting your hair behind your ears as you turn to him.

"I've been working here." you shrug.

"What about doin' somefin 'ats not work." he suggests.

"Like what?" you say with an unsure face.

"What if I take ya out? How long's it been since I went out and proper courted you eh? You wanna make me sit through a show? I'll watch somefin' I hate." he chuckles and gives you a charming smile.

"Oh, I don't know. No need to waste money on it." you shake your head and turn back around.

He blinks and stares. "Since when do you care about wastin' money?" his voice cracks as it shakes off sleep.

"Since I've been thinking of being a wife and mother." you say with a straight posture, more confidence in your voice.

He stands in silence with narrowed eyes, his mind putting together your recent actions. "Me movin' in with ya make ya fink 'bout it more?" he asks, resting his face near yours.

"Yes. That and my lessons with Rabbi Gold. We've been discussing the role of women. Family dynamics and what is expected of us when we become married and with children."

"Why are ya jumpin' the gun on all 'at?"

"I didn't think I was." you say with a light twist to your words.

"Well..." he begins, pressing his nose into your shoulder. "What if as your husband I want you to spend some money on somefin', yeah? Want my pretty little Chanah to get all dolled up like I know she likes. Want to take her out and show her a good time. Make her happy. Have ya do somefin' besides make me tea." he chuckles.

"It has been awhile." you say, he feels the sigh leave your body.

"It has. You don't need to get so caught up in your lessons, love. Ya know you get too obsessive 'bout it and it makes you a mess. I want ya happy, relaxed, doin' ya hobbies 'n that like you used to. Don't worry 'bout me too much love. And I'm finkin' 'bout the future enough for the both of us. You do ya lessons and keep practicin' and don't you worry that pretty little head of yours about money. If you need to worry about anything I'll let you know eh? We're fine. Business is fine. No reason you can't go and have a nice night out."

"Does always lead to a nicer night in." you smile and he gives you a cheeky growl with a noisy kiss to your head.

"'Ats my girl." he pats your bum. "Don't go loosin' yourself Gen. Ya both Chanah and Genevieve. I fell in love with Genny bee first, eh? And Chanah kept me around. Put me in my place dinnit she?" he gives your waist a squeeze. "Don't need to kill off one for the other. Especially not for me. Who the fuck am I? Fuckin' nobody." he laughs and pulls away.

"You are someone, darling. You're a very important someone. And I will keep your words in mind. You know how I get." you shake your head.

"That I do." he nods supportively.

"I've never been a nervous person. And all this makes me so nervous and I don't know how to handle it so I go overboard."

"It is in your nature to do such a thing." his voice warm but teasing.

"It means so much to me. Having been denied it for so long. I'm not used to feeling out of my element. And I want to be the best wife and mother and girlfriend and businesswoman I can and it's all..." you sigh and let your shoulders slump, feeling your words as they rushed out, seeing what your problem had been. You'd been so focused on the house, running it, making it perfect that you'd neglected yourself.

"Ya gonna run yourself ragged if ya keep that up."

"Yes." you nod, plating your breakfast. "You're right, darling."

"Mmmm." he hums, pulling you over by your wrist after you set down your plate.

"What?" you giggle, him pulling you fully into his lap, looking up at you with a cheeky smile.

"Say it again love."

You roll your eyes and laugh. "Such a wanker." you giggle and he pinches your bum.

"Indulge an old man, love." he grins.

"You're right, darling." you say with a kiss to his lips. "I forget you are an intuitive beast." you coo, scratching your fingers in his beard.

"I am that, yeah." he gives you a big grin and catches your lips in a deeper kiss.

"Such a clever man." you coo.

"Now 'ats a grown woman's filthy mouth right there." he chuckles, rising and holding you in his arms.

"Such a provider. So protective and strong." you continue on in a purr.

"Right 'ats it." he lifts you and resituates his arms, walking out of the kitchen. "We're goin' back to bed, we are."

You kiss on his ears and giggle. "Such a brilliant mind. Such a dominating body. With a tongue that will bring me to my knees one way or another."

"I know which way it's gonna be this mornin' love." he smirks.

"I thought you'd want me on my back and not my knees." you tease.

"You know I'll take ya anyway I can have ya." he says sincerely, as you squeeze your arms around his neck, continuing to whisper praise into his ear past the doorway and continuing on after he'd kicked the door shut behind you.

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[furryarbiterangel]

October Post 13

George often thought about the day they said he went insane.

It wasn’t his fault. Not really. And now he sat in this small white room, the walls slowly closing in around him as the days went by, arms wrapped tight in a harsh embrace around his torso, held there by the iron grip of the jacket, and labelled as “a danger to self and others”. No, it wasn’t fair at all.

Everything had been Marshal’s idea after all. It wasn’t George’s fault that he had died there… although everyone else seemed to think so.

But he would stand by his story. It was all he had left.

He was considered too dangerous to even leave his prison unless accompanied by multiple staff members to attend his psychological evaluations in the doctor’s office. So every day he was bundled up and dragged along to the doctor’s room. Dr. Harrold Harrison, a name that would have made him laugh at another point of his life, asked him the same questions over and over as if George would suddenly one day declare “By golly you’re right! It was me!”

“How are you feeling today?”

“What can I do to help you?”

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Have you been feeling any changes with the new medication?”

“We really care about helping you George… but you have to help us help you.”

He was feeling coped up like the caged animal he was. There was nothing Dr. Harrold Harrison could do to help since he refused to believe the truth. He didn’t want to talk about anything thank you so very much. And why yes, the medication certainly was affecting him. Just not the way the doctor hoped. In fact, sometimes, he was so medicated he couldn’t remember his own name. During those times he would pace the room, 5 feet by 6 feet, he had measured it numerous times during his stay here, muttering names to himself until he found the right one. It only added to the doctor’s conviction that he was crazy. But once he found it, he felt a little better. As long as he could hold on to himself they wouldn’t be able to convince him he was crazy.

…

“Horror movies these days are so boring” Em whined.

“I know!” Marshal added, throwing himself back against the couch. “They’re so predictable. And stupid. Like, who does that? Don’t go into the attic by yourself moron. Take a flashlight at least!”

Em sighed dramatically. Em was very good at being dramatic. She could make ordering a pizza dramatic. “This sucks.”

“Come on guys, it wasn’t that bad. You screamed at least once, so you can’t claim it was awful.” Ray pointed out.

“Jump scares don’t count!” Michelle chimed in.

George sat quietly next to them on the sofa, unwilling to admit that he had been scared witless by the movie that Em and Marshal were currently bashing. There was something about psychological horrors that made him want to check under his bed at night. Except, there was always the fear that something would actually be there one day, and he wasn’t sure how he would handle THAT situation. Thankfully, it hadn’t happened yet. But that didn’t quiet the voice in his head that whispered that he might not be alone because it now believed that ghosts were real.

Once the sun rose all those silly thoughts retreated, leaving only the logic that it was just a movie and it was silly to be scared by them.

Until the next movie night.

Marshal and Em always insisted on horror movies, although the way they complained afterwards, you would think that they hated them.

His musings were interrupted when Marshal suddenly spoke again, disrupting the argument between Em, Ray, and Michelle about the value of jump scares in movies. “We should do something really scary!”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well…” Marshal started. “Have you heard of the Sultan’s Palace?”

“Of course!” said Em, at the same time as George, Ray, and Michelle simultaneously answered “No.”

His eyes glinted. “It’s one of the most haunted buildings in the US. And it’s in New Orleans, that’s not too far away.”

“3 hours isn’t ‘not too far away’ dude.” George finally spoke up.

“But it’ll be worth it!”

“Tell us about it!” Michelle hid it well, but George knew she was worried.

Marshal settled farther into the couch. “Back in the 1800’s, a man and his six wives moved into a house in New Orleans’s French Quarter. He was known for his wild parties. One day, as per usual, his house was bumping late into the night, filled to the brim with guests!” He gestured wildly, attempting to demonstrate just how wild these nights had been. “There were rumors of orgies. That the women were part of his harem and he slept with every single one of them every night. People whispered that they could smell opium in the air. Anything that you could think of…”

Ray sighed. “This doesn’t sound particularly scary.”

“You have to understand the background of it.” Em snapped. “Listen to the rest of the story!”

“Fine. Whatever.” He muttered.

George sat in silence, worried about where this conversation seemed to be headed.

“Right. So orgies, sex, drugs, what else could you want in a haunted house? Several months after the Sultan moved in, a huge storm hit the New Orleans area. The house went quiet for the first time. The next morning, a passerby noticed blood streaming down the front steps and pooling in the courtyard. Totally freaked out, this dude ran to get the police. The blood continued to run… getting thicker and thicker… before the police finally decided to enter.”

Michael paused, clearly hoping for a reaction from the others.

Only Em obliged, prompting him eagerly “Go on!”

“Inside the police found that every single person inside had been brutally murdered. Some had been flayed open… others were missing limbs… all throughout the house they found more and more dead. But when they got into the middle of the house, they found a lavish courtyard… and in the very middle of the courtyard… a hand… sticking up out of the dirt… trying to claw its’ way out of the earth… the Sultan had been buried alive. They never found the murderer.

“To this day it’s rumored that the Sultan wanders the house at night, seeking revenge. Everyone who goes in dies a brutal death recreating the tragedies of how the Sultan and his guests were killed. Visitors who run rather than stay the night, tell tales of seeing dark figures stalking them and even pushing them. Outsiders say that they can hear music in the distance and smell incense as if one of the Sultan’s parties is going on right at that very moment. Others say they can hear people screaming. But everyone agrees that there is something supernatural about that place.” He took a breath prepping for his big reveal, “Everyone except that woman who lives there. She thinks it’s all nonsense. In fact,” Michael’s eyes began to glow with excitement, “she even converted it into small apartments and rents them out.”

“No.” George and Michelle said at once.

“Yes!” Em squealed. “Let’s do it!”

They all looked towards Ray knowing he would be the deciding vote. After all, he was the one with the car, he would have to agree for them to all go. He hesitated, clearly doubtful.

“Common chicken.” Michael taunted.

George knew his fate was sealed. Ray couldn’t stand be called a chicken. He and Michelle would try to put up a fight… to resist the idea, but eventually the group dynamics would win. Michael would sweet talk Michelle into agreeing and George wouldn’t be the only one to stay behind.

So it was agreed. The next weekend instead of a movie night, they would take a trip down to New Orleans and spend the night at the Sultan’s Palace.

 The trip began uneventfully. There was the usual bickering over who would sit in what seats, and eventually the usual outcome would occur, leaving George stuck in the middle. He wasn’t sure why he never stood up for himself, it just seems easier to let himself be swept along with the others. Em and Michael had sound loud personalities that the few times he had tried, it hadn’t even been noticed. So he had stopped trying.

The three hour car ride turned into a four hour one, then five, then five and a half due to traffic. By the time they pulled into the French Quarter they were all cranky and eager to be out of the rust bucket that Ray called a car.

George stared in awe as they approached the entryway to the home. He could see why they called it a Palace in the 1860’s. It truly was an impressive building.

George remained quiet as Em bounded up to the door, knocked, spent some time talking to the woman who answered, and dragged them all up to their rooms. He couldn’t fight off a quiet sense of foreboding. He tried hard to tell himself it was just the story and that it was like any of the movies he had been forced to sit through. It would bother him for a little while, and then he would wake up and laugh at it.

They explored the rest of the house, the afternoon passing in a blur as George became more and more nervous. It get to the point that even Em noticed something was wrong.

He shrugged it off when she asked, knowing she would only laugh at him.

He was so wrapped up in his discomfort he didn’t notice that Michelle was acting oddly too. It was only when they returned from dinner that night, each with a few drinks in them as it turned out that restaurants in the French Quarter didn’t ID, that he noticed Ray had become unusually quiet too.

He pulled Michelle and Ray aside and asked them if they were feeling the same uneasy emotions as he was.

The look of relief on Michelle’s face made it clear that she thought she had been the only one, “Ohmygod. Okay. I feel so much better now that you said that. I though I was being silly… but… I’ve felt nauseas since I first walked into this house.”

“I’ve felt like there was someone standing directly behind me,” Ray admitted. “I thought I felt it touch me…”

“I’ve been seeing glimpses of people moving out of the corner of my eye.” George said, glad he could finally say it out loud.

“I don’t like it here…” Michelle whispered.                                                                      

“BOO!”

Michelle and George screamed, even Ray jumped.

Em burst out laughing. “Oh the looks on your faces.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she doubled over clutching her stomach. “Oh that was just too good.”

Michelle’s jaw clenched and she glared at her. “That wasn’t funny, Em!”

“Calm down, it was hilarious.” Michael appeared behind Em, chuckling to himself.

Em was still struggling to catch her breath.

Turning her glare to him, Michelle stayed quiet for a few seconds, opened her mouth to say something, and then turned and stalked away.

Michael watched her go, “I don’t get it. Why is she so angry?”

Ray shrugged. “It really wasn’t funny dude. You shouldn’t have said that to her.” He hesitated and then followed Michelle down the dark hallway.

“What about you?” Michael challenged, “are you going to run away too?”

George didn’t respond, wishing he had had the chance to talk to Ray and Michelle more, but he didn’t want to rise to Michael’s taunt and follow them. So instead he shook his head.

“Good.” Said Em, “You can come with us. We’re going to explore more.”

“But we already explored everything? Besides, it’s getting late.”

“Uh…duh? That’s why we’re going to explore! It’s so much better in the dark.”

Reluctantly he followed them back down the hallway, glancing once over his shoulder the way Ray and Michelle had disappeared still wishing he had the guts to stand up to Em’s judgement and go after them. Instead, he squared his shoulders and resolved not to let her see that he was still afraid.

The house was much creepier in the dark.

George would have sworn that the shadows moved extending towards them like fingers grasping for them. As it turned out he would swear that, but that would come later.

Instead he crept along in Em and Michael’s wake, the two of them laughing loudly over some joke that didn’t make sense to him, wishing desperately they would decide that there was nothing to be seen and go to their rooms.

They had reached the courtyard when he decided he had had enough.

“I don’t think there’s anything here.” He said, a little too loudly, “I’m gonna head back.”

“Coward.”

George shrugged off Michael’s comment. “We’ve been walking around for an hour and haven’t seen anything. I’m bored and tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Fine. Go then.” Without another word to him, they continued walking into the courtyard, whispering to each other. Em threw a glance back towards him and laughed as Michael whispered something in her ear.

George sighed. It would be worth it. He couldn’t stand the idea of growing shadows or the feeling that the hall was a little too empty.

It took him a while to find his way back. The hallways seemed longer than they had earlier in the day. He knew he was in the right one but it seemed to wind around corners that hadn’t previously existed. When he finally reached his room he realized that it was all for nothing. The sounds of pleasure floated out from underneath the door.

Well, it was bound to happen eventually, he thought. It did make his position in the friend group that much more awkward given that it was only a matter of time before Em and Michael got together as well, but everyone had seen Ray and Michelle’s relationship developing for months. Well, everyone but them. Em had been throwing hints about it for the last month or so hoping it would help them realize what was happening between them. The only problem was that he and Ray were suppose to share a room and he didn’t know where the girls were supposed to be sleeping. There were other guests there that night so he didn’t want to be walking around knocking on doors trying to find the empty room and risk disturbing strangers.

At that moment a particularly loud moan came from the room.

Fuck it. He decided. There was no reason to stay here. He didn’t need to witness this, so he turned around and started back down the hallway. He would rejoin Em and Michael he decided. At least he would be able to sleep in Michael’s room.

Or Em’s room if it came to that. He had a feeling that being left alone this long in a place like this would only increase the chances that their night would end up like Ray and Michelle’s.

George continued down towards the courtyard. It was the last place he had seen them and if nothing else he might run into them on their way back. At end the end of the hallway he froze. A long spiral staircase stretched out in front of him. A staircase that he was sure hadn’t been there earlier. Their rooms were on the first floor. He was sure of it. And yet, there it was. At the end of the hallway that should have lead into the grand entryway of the house. Not completely convinced that he wasn’t imagining the whole thing, he hesitantly put one foot on the top stair. It held under his weight without so much as a creak.

He already knew that he couldn’t go back to his room so he decided to head down it. He was curious as to where this mysterious staircase lead. How often was it that you could explore a suddenly appearing staircase? It would be something to tell Michael and Em to stop their teasing tomorrow.

George skipped down the staircase, it was better to commit to it after all, otherwise he might end up running back down the hallway and, disturbing Ray and Michelle or not, pound on the door and demand to be let in where he could hide under his pillow until the sun came back up. At the end of the staircase he nearly tripped over his feet as they decided to stop moving completely on their own.

In front of him lay the foyer.

A foyer.

It certainly wasn’t the elegantly decorated foyer that he had entered through this afternoon.

Tiger skin rugs lay at the foot of a large red couch, chandeliers glittering high above him, the rest of the celling covered in an intricately designed mosaic. The archways gleamed as if freshly polished, reflecting in the painstakingly scrubbed tile floors. Small tables sat on either side of the couch, laden with candles and fresh fruit. The faint sound of music drifted throughout the room.

He might have stood there forever, wrapped in shock, had it not been for a peal of laughter that suddenly rang through a doorway to his left. A doorway that he was sure hadn’t been there earlier.

George once again felt his traitorous feet begin to move on their own towards the sound of laughter. He mentally fought to stop them but they seemed to be operating on a different plane of thought. They carried him down the remaining few steps, into the foyer, and through the doorway. The tinkling sound of music grew louder. A strange smell filled the air. It was like nothing that he had ever smelled before. It lay thick in the air, a sickly-sweet smell that assaulted his senses in an almost visible form. It was as if someone had gathered a posse of flowers and then set them on fire. George had never smell incense before. Later on he would realize that it carried the same scent as a particularly strong type of opium, that could only be acquired through the Indian black market, but until that point he could only describe it in vague half-hearted terms.

His feet carried him unwillingly onwards.

He wished desperately that he had interrupted Ray and Michelle. Anything would have been better than this ever-changing house.

He found himself standing in the courtyard.

He could only assume it was the same courtyard… this one was full of people. Dressed in brightly colored, delicate looking fabrics tall beautiful woman lounged on couches that were scatted throughout. Men, talking boisterously, were dressed in equally bright clothing, many of them talking at the women, who were clearly trying their hardest to look interested, all while throwing glances at each other as if despairing of the entire population of human males.

There was a moment where all carried on as normal.

One of the women spotted him. All fell silent. George felt himself turn a bright red as all eyes turned to stare at him. He was acutely aware of his ratty jeans and old sweater, so dull and drab when compared to the spender around him.

A cry spread throughout the courtyard.

“Another guest!” “Welcome friend!” “Come join us!”

A few of the women beckoned welcomingly at him. All the voices encouraged him to step forward, to partake in their revels.

George’s eyes drifted over the crowd of scantily dressed women and proud men. He couldn’t describe why, but their welcome made him feel more uneasy rather than soothing him.

He locked eyes with the woman sitting closest to him and she flashed him an alluring smile, allowing her dress to slip casually off of her shoulder. His gaze stuck for a few seconds on the bare flesh and he felt his feet take a step forward. At murmur spread throughout the crowd and he looked up again into her face. Her eyes weren’t smiling. They watched him with the calculated gaze of a snake waiting for its’ prey to come close enough to strike.

Tearing his gaze away from her he found that all of them were watching him intently, waiting for him to move closer.

Finally, his gaze fell upon the fountain that lay in the exact middle of the courtyard. A fountain which had been decrepit beyond repair earlier now bubbled happily a strange red liquid gushing from its’ spouts. He had assumed it was wine. This second glance told him it was not. He didn’t know what it was, but the color wasn’t right and it seemed thicker than wine. Around the bottom of the fountain lay surprisingly realistic statues. They lay frozen, heads turned away from him, limbs mangled in a strangle fashion, perfectly placed… perfectly placed over grates. Grates that lead directly into the fountain. Statues… that weren’t statues. But rather what remained of the bodies of Em and Michael.

The spell on his feet suddenly broke and he bolted away from the courtyard, breath caught in his throat, unable to scream. Through the foyer, the floors tainted now in a dark red color, up the staircase, and down the hallway. He stopped in front of his and Ray’s door and pounded on the wood.

It wasn’t until his fist began to hurt that he noticed there was no longer noise coming from the room. Finding his voice he began to yell, unintelligible words forcing their way from his throat as he tried desperately to wake them from whatever deep sleep they had found.

There was no answer.

George fell to the ground, exhausted. His back against the door he dropped his head into his hands and began to sob. Helplessly he felt the sobs rip their way out of him from deep within his stomach. Trying to catch his breath he leaned his head back against the door and nearly choked as if gave way behind him. He rolled flailing wildly into the room.

Catching and righting himself, he took a moment to lower his head to the ground and regain a steady breathing pattern. He wasn’t sure the his heart would ever stop pounding out of his chest, but he could at least make sure that it was getting enough air as it did so.

Minutes passed.

George lifted his head and let his gaze sweep the room. Only a second passed before he wished he had remained outside in the hallway.

Laying on the bed, still intertwined intimately together lay Michelle and Ray. The now lifeless bodies of Michelle and Ray. The sheets were stained with blood. The pillow was even worse, so soaked in it that a small puddle formed on the floor beneath it as small drops fell slowly to the ground.

A strangled animalistic sound filled the room and George was only vaguely aware that it had come from him.

Throwing himself out of the door he nearly crashed into the door across from the room where his two friends lay. He didn’t bother to right himself fully, instead barreling down the hallway relying on momentum to carry him forward. This time he did trip down the staircase, falling head-first and rolling all the way into the foyer.

He splashed to the ground.

Groaning he lifted his head, dreading what he would see.

The entire floor of the foyer was now covered in blood all sounds of music and laughter gone. Primal screams of fear filled the air. George had a feeling that at least one of them had come from him.

He was now completely coated in blood, his hands and face sticky with it from his roll down the stairs, his clothes drenched.

The sickly-sweet smell filled the entire room an underlying sense of the distinct coppery smell of blood floating among it. He retched violently, trying to rid himself of the invading smell to no use. If anything it grew stronger.

He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the sound of feet coming towards him. He could hear the faint splash of liquid with each step and found himself retching again, his entire body rebelling against the truth that he had seen.

Long nails caressed his face and he suddenly found himself looking into the face of the woman who had tried to seduce him in the courtyard. Her eyes were even more snakelike this close her pupils mere slits of black in a sea of endless green.

“He’ll do.” She said. Her voice was as low and husky as he imagined.

Shuttering, he allowed himself to be drawn to his feet, and followed her without protest as she lead him back to the courtyard. There was no use fighting anymore. He was going to die here.

The blood seemed to grow thicker even as they moved through it. The courtyard was still as full of people as it had been when he had first found his way down, only now most of them lay dead on the ground. Many of them were missing limbs or were twisted into unnatural shapes. A few extremely unlucky ones were still twitching on the grass as the last of their life seeped from their bodies.

He was lead right next to the fountain, close enough the he could now see the expressions on Em and Michael’s faces, twisted in horror they had clearly been alive long enough to register what was happening to them.

Distantly he wondered if the same fate awaited him.

The woman led him closer to them as he saw for the first time that his fate was to be different than theirs. A deep hole, approximately the size of a human standing upright awaiting them, its’ black depths gaping up at him, waiting for him. At the sight of it George began to struggle for the first time. But the hands gripping him were surprisingly strong and he couldn’t tear himself away.

He registered a second pair of hands on his back a second too late. He was shoved mercilessly into the hole, a scream of terror once again finding its’ way out of him. Gasping desperately in fear he sucked in huge breaths of air as if it would help him retain them longer when the dirt started to pour around him. George scrambled at the sides trying to find a handhold, a rough patch, anything that might help him crawl out of this hell, but the sides were deceptively smooth.

His fingers bleeding, he redoubled his efforts as the dirt began to rain down around him. He could hear his tormentors laughing above him. Dirt began to gather in his hair, caught in his eyes, and landing softly around him. Deceptively soft. Soft or not, George knew it would smoother him should it become high enough to cover his face. He tried to use the dirt that already surrounded his feet as a step higher to reach safety, but found that it was too soft and his feet sank back to the bottom of the hole.

That was why they choose such smooth dirt, a small part of his mind thought. The rest of him was too busy panicking to care about what dirt they had chosen.

George could feel that the dirt had reached his waist.

Screams still forced their way out of this throat but it was so raw that he could barely make noise.

Suddenly, the rain of dirt stopped. He wasn’t able to move enough to see what had happened but he was thankful for anything that extended his life, even if it was mere minutes.

The minutes extended into hours. Time seemed to stretch on forever.

George began to worry that the plan wasn’t to bury him alive but to leave him here, unable to move, until he died from exposure or thirst.

As time passed, the smell of opium began to had front the air, all sounds of music and laughter gone, replaced with the sounds of a busy city beginning to wake. George noticed none of this.

What he did notice was when a different scream filled the air.

This one, he was fairly sure, hadn’t come from him. He wasn’t sure that he could scream anymore even if he wanted to.

Everything seemed to move rather quickly after that.

He remembered pieces of it. Flashes of memory. Bright lights being shined in his face. Rough hands pulling him from the dirt. Fighting them desperately for his life as they dragged him away. Through the front of the house, which appeared as he remembered from entering, there was no blood covering the floor, no tiger skin rugs, no chandelier or couch, the archways covered in a faint layer of grime. His hands restrained behind him. A dark room, that reminded him far too much of the death he had narrowly avoided. Groaning, rocking back and forth, they left him in the room for far too long, he was convinced that he had been recused only to leave him to rot in a different hole.

People, many people, staring at him expectantly. He couldn’t find the words to answer the questions they were asking him. “Why did you do it?” They wanted to know. “How could you do that?”

George tried to explain. To tell them about the woman, the blood, the staircase that wasn’t there.

No one would listen.

He was declared mentally unfit to withstand trial.

Then, then they had brought him here. At least the walls were white here. They only threated to close in on him at night, when everything was dark and the walls grew black and smooth, taunting him with their ability to close in and suffocate him in his sleep.

No one believed him.

They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t seen the things he had. George considered telling them to go themselves, to see it with their own eyes, but he didn’t want to risk something happening to others. It was enough that someone knew. Maybe they could prevent others from going there.

Things weren’t awful here. Other than the walls that tried to kill him each night, he knew there would always be food and water. The doctors wouldn’t let the walls attack him. They came around every half an hour to make sure that they hadn’t moved. It never occurred to him that maybe, they came around to check on him. The doctors watch the walls for him.

And the best thing. The very best thing about being here… he never had to watch horror movies anymore. That was one bonus.

They don’t allow horror movies in a locked mental facility.

[jsilva0117]

CS Sleeping Beauty AU: Once Upon a Dream

Summary: Emma knows nothing about her past nor being the princess of Misthaven, and little does she know she has met her betrothed and true love.

Start from the beginning here.

*I am working on this fic without a beta at the moment, so I do apologize for grammatical errors.

Chapter 10

King George paces relentlessly in his throne room. A habit he’s picked up recently ever since reading his son’s letter. His royal guard has been searching the entire kingdom and beyond for him with no luck. He stops at the window to look out. “That boy will regret ever defying me,” King George proclaims to himself.

“Having trouble keeping track of your own son, King George,” an unknown voice speaks.

Startled, King George turns around, wondering who has intruded in on him.

“I guess some people are just not meant for royalty.” Regina is planted firmly on his throne, grinning like a snake.

“Guards,” King George shouts out when Regina cuts him off.

“Don’t bother. I soundproofed this room. I thought we could have a chat.”

“And who might you be? And how did you get in here,” King George raises his voice with clear inpatients for his intruder.

Regina laughs and stands to introduce herself. “oh, calm down your majesty. I’m here to offer you a most appealing opportunity. I’m queen Regina.”

“Regina? Queen Snow’s mother?  You were exiled years ago.”

Regina’s lips curl in anger. “Stepmother.” Her poise returns back quickly. “And that’s an excellent Segway as to why I’m here.” Regina starts to pace the room. “I’m about to reclaim my throne from my step-daughter and her prince charming,” slithering King David’s moniker out with a sarcastic tone. “ This will no doubt cause a war. A war I plan to win, for I have a plan in motion to obtain something most precious to them.”

King George smirks, ready to call her bluff. “You don’t have Princess Emma. Everyone knows she’s in hiding.”

“Oh, but I have the next best thing.” Her smile grows in the most sinister way, sending chills up King George’s back. “See, I know that Princess Emma will come to me because I have the man she loves.”

“And who is that?”

“Why, her betrothed, of course. It seems they have already met and have fallen for one another. Your wish come true your highness.”

“Killian? You have my son!” King George starts to charge at Regina with anger in his eyes, but before he can get the second step in he feels an invisible grip wrap around his throat, cutting off his air supply. It stops him in his tracks as he struggles to breathe.

“You dare to approach me in such a manner!?” Regina’s grip gets tighter, enjoying watching King George fall at her mercy.  “I’ve come to offer you a deal, George. Join me in my quest to take back my throne. With Princess Emma in my procession and your army, Snow and David will have no choice. It’s no secret you have the most powerful army in the realm. With your army and my magic, we can be unstoppable.”

Regina finally releases her grip on the King, letting him crumble to the floor, gasping for precious air. Rubbing this strained neck and coughing he responds, “And what exactly is in this form me?” He slowly makes his way back to standing to face her. “After you’ve gotten your thrown back, what do I get out of this?”

Regina’s lips curl into a wicked grin. “Why, you king George, get your son back.”

King George’s eyes go wild with anger. “What have you done with him”, he yells at Regina but hesitates to put himself any closer to her.

“He’s fine. He’s making himself comfortable in my dungeon as we speak. Help me, and you may have him back. Do nothing and he dies.”

King George hesitates, studying Regina and weighing his options. “I’ll never help you. I know Killian. He’ll find a way out. He’s my son, and he’s the most resourceful man I know, and I’ve grown tired of our little visit. It’s time for you to leave.”

Regina’s expression goes cold with rage. “Well, that would be a mistake, George.” She quickly strides over to him and plunges her hand into King George’s chest and pulls out a glowing, beating heart.

King George gasps and falls to his knees, grabbing his chest, surprised to feel no opening or injury there.

“See King George, with my magic I can take your heart. And when you hold a heart, you control it. Now, let us have a visit with my step-daughter, shall we.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

 “Snow will you please stop pacing. I know you’re anxious to see our daughter, but there’s no need to wear out the floor”, King David teasingly says to his wife as they both await the arrival, and a long-awaited reunion with their only daughter, whom they have given away so many years ago.

Maleficent had sent a message via bird saying the princess was on her way to them. Snow has not sat down since.

“Snow, Maleficent just sent that bird. They’re still miles away.”

Snow stops to look at him, realizing how anxious she was to see her daughter.  “You’re right”, she sighs out. She walks to her seat to sit next to her husband in the dining hall awaiting their dinner.  “But David, do you think we did the right thing?  I mean, how can we expect her to forgive us for sending her away?”

David takes Snow’s hand into his. “Hey”, he says softly. “We had no choice. Regina would have found a way –“

Snow cuts in. “We could have protected her. We could have found a way. We always do!”

“Maybe, but I think you know we couldn’t take that risk. Sending her away was her best chance,” David responds to Snow’s unease and regret, stroking her cheek, giving her as much comfort as possible. The pain and guilt were eating at him too. He knew what she was going through. “And it’s not us we should be projecting this on. This lies on Regina. She’s responsible for those years lost with Emma. She’s the reason she grew up without her parents.” David’s throat gets tight and his eyes get watery with the rage and heartache swirling inside him. “We can only hope Emma will understand.”

Snow looks at her husband with love and adoration, feeling so lucky she has him. She leans toward him bringing her lips to his, cupping his cheek, a single tear rolling down her face. When she breaks the kiss she rests her forehead on his. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you. I only hope you’re right. That Emma will understand and hopefully forgive us because I’m not sure I can.” More tears stream down Snow’s cheeks and David grabs her for an embrace, hoping to comfort her.

“I know,” he says softly. “Me too.”

The castle’s butler interrupts their moment as he opens the doors to the dining hall. “Your Majesties, King George has arrived and has requested he speak with you.”

David takes a moment to answer, wiping a tear from his eye, trying to regain a king’s poise. “Send him in.”

King George walks in bowing before the King and Queen of Mishaven.  “King George. To what do we owe the pleasure? Please tell me it’s not about Princess Emma’s return. We’ve already told you, we won’t force our daughter to marry your son. We agreed we’d set up the conditions for them to meet and court, but the rest would be up to them.”

King George stands to address them. “I’m afraid that’s not why I’m here. Queen Regina paid me a visit.”

“Regina,” Queen Snow interjects. “What did she want?”

King George hesitates for a moment. “For me to break my alliance with Misthaven and join her to overtake your kingdom.” His voice breaks, conflict present in his features.

“Well, what’d you tell her,” King David commands.

“She sends me with a message.” King George’s tone and voice change slightly, almost as if it didn’t belong to him. “Give up the crown now and avoid a war with my army that will end countless lives. You will then live the rest of your days in her dungeon, while your daughter lies in an eternal sleep.”

David and Snow quickly come to their feet, David drawing his sword. “You’ve aligned with Regina,” David growls.

“Not by choice.” King Georg pauses. “She has my son.”

“Killian,” Snow whispers. “We will stop her and save Killian George. You don’t have to do this. We’ll find a way.”

“His son isn’t the only thing I have,” Regina says as she waltzes in from behind the doors, King George’s heart on hand.

“Regina,” Snow’s voice gets low with fury. Snow takes David’s sword from his hand and charges at Regina with full force. Snow screams as the blade lead her charge.

“Oh please,” Regina sarcastically responds at the sight. Her wrist flicks toward Snow’s weapon, causing it to fly out of her hand and land several feet away.

Stunned, Snow looks at her husband’s sword on the ground, unsure of her next move.

“You think you can come at me with your petty weapons,” A snarl escaping Regina’s lips as she grips the air with her hand, making Snow gasp for air.

“Snow,” David yells from across the room. He starts running toward his Wife.

“Move any closer Charming and I’ll snap her neck.”

David stops in his tracks, feeling helpless, watching his wife gasp for air to no avail.

Regina looks Snow in the eye. “I would love nothing more than to watch you die right here and now, but killing you wouldn’t be enough. I want you to suffer as I have. I want you to know loss.” Rage and grief battle within Regina as a single tear traces down her cheek. Regina’s vengeful stare bores into Snow’s as she watches the life drain out of her. It’s a challenge to let go and not fulfill her revenge right then and there, but Regina releases her grip and Snow falls for the floor coughing and rubbing her neck.

David runs toward his wife to catch her before she can hit the ground. He checks over her, making sure she’s okay. Turning to Regina he shouts, “What do you want Witch!”

Regina looks down at the King and Queen, satisfied with how she’s wielded her power over them.

“Why, I’ve come to accept your surrender of course. I have at my disposal King George’s army. You can’t win. Soon I will have your daughter under my curse.” She kneels down putting her eyes in line with theirs. “I’ve won.”

“You won’t get her,” Snow manages to speak under a raspy voice. “We’ll see to that.”

Regina slowly stands back up, looking down at them. “Well then, I’ll just have to make sure you can’t stop me.” With another wave of her hand, a purple mist casts over Snow and David. Before they can realize what’s happening they both fall to the floor resting in a deep, deep slumber. Regina grins, feeling the buzz of victory in her grasp. She turns to walk out, King George’s heart still in hand.

“What have you done to them,” King George asks as she strides past him.

“Oh don’t worry. I’ve just put them under a sleeping spell. Different than the one I have in store for the princess. Their sleep is temporary. This spell eventually wears off. I just need to make sure no one gets in my way.” And with that Regina steps outside twirling her free, magical hand in the air as if creating her own magical twister. The purple mist gets bigger until she blows on it with her mouth, sending it out into the atmosphere, putting everyone in the Kingdom under the same spell as the King and Queen.

[landoftheoutsiders]

So I figured I would do an experiment on myself. I was already planning on doing a stream of conscious type thing tonight to try to figure out what some of the thoughts were that went through my head regarding my eating disorder... then I thought: but what if we added food? So. I have officially consumed an appropriate meal. There were many breaks, and holy fuck I haven’t been this bloated or in pain from food since being in a meal group (I’m also going to actually die if/when I try meal group again) while in treatment. I have walked my dog, smoked my two cigarettes, and I plan on being uninterrupted for the next hour or so. This, so far, is a bad idea... hopefully it won’t get any worse. This is completely unfiltered, so now is your chance to look away if you are triggered easily.

     First of all, I’m getting weighed tomorrow and this is not part of my weigh-in ritual. So I’m freaking out. I feel like most people that aren’t supposed to be losing weight who have weigh-ins regularly actually want to be heavier than they are. For some reason, I want to know what my actual weight is, and I would prefer for it to keep going down. (Also, kind of random, but I’m mad at how my Spotify put on Paint Me Black by Ben Hazlewood, and this is the verse that I just heard, “Stuck in my eye line is my one goal to make me happy, it's time that you go. I know I'm starving but I'll fill my hunger, I'll come alive and bring the thunder.” I hate everything.) Anyways, uh, so rituals before weigh-ins. I don’t eat usually around 24 hours beforehand. So I’m already panicking. I know my weight is going to be higher than what it was the week before, and I should be at the very least okay with that, but I’m not. I’m also pissed off at the fact I’m drinking soda because I normally only drink coffee or water. My “cheat drinks” are the ones I get from Starbucks, which I’m sure has more calories than a soda does, but I’m not in as much pain afterwards, and they help me feel better if I haven’t eaten that day. Basically, I don’t eat 24 hours beforehand, and I don’t drink anything until I go in the day of. I want it to be only my body weight without food or water weighing it down. I’m not even allowed to know my weight anymore, and I still do this shit which doesn’t make any sense, whatsoever. 

      I could have done all of this tonight. Crashy has been asleep since a solid 6pm, and my social media is actually fairly quiet. There was no one to make me eat tonight which is rare. I was definitely planning on it after last night too. Crashy and I went to go see Infinity War, and beforehand, he asked me if I had eaten that day. I was already laying down, so I ignored him and pretended to be asleep. Thought I was home free. So we go see the movie, I’m an emotional wreck because I wasn’t prepared to see anything that happened. I was crying and whisper-screaming no frantically at the screen. We were all a tragic mess in that theatre. We’re walking out to go to the car, and Crashy states that we’re going to Cookout. I asked him why. He asked if I had eaten that day (mind you, its almost 2am at this point), and FOR SOME REASON, just like George Washington, I cannot fucking tell a lie when it comes to this damned disorder. So now after the emotional roller coaster of Infinity War, we’re going to Cookout. I was in full panic mode, and I only got a cheeseburger, removed one of the buns, and asked if Crashy could put something on so I could at least be distracted. What comes on? The Office. Safe, right? Nope. It was the weightloss episode. And all I hear as I’m about to take a bite is Darryl saying, “y’all need to learn some portion control,” and Dwight saying, “Oh wait, Pam is on the scale,” then Michael saying, “We would love your extra poundage, but...” and I’m internally screaming. Thankfully Crashy saw the humour in it and changed the episode, but fuck me. So I wait until we’re almost home before I start eating so I can immediately get out of the car to smoke. 

     Eating has just gotten so hard recently. Like, my really disordered moments haven’t happened as often as they have recently in a while. Earlier this week, Tree and I went to go talk to Dr. B to talk to her about her book she wrote. She let us read the rough draft, and naturally we had questions. Afterwards, Tree and I waited for one of her friends to come to group so we could say hey and leave, but we ran by Starbucks first. I wasn’t planning on eating that day, but she had to and I felt like I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t eat that day too (logic isn’t the greatest here, but hey, I’m eating). We get to the speaker in the drive thru and she orders my protein box that is a semi-safe 350 calories. I can attempt to do that. (Mind you, this is the same meal that led me to call Pink the week prior to tell him that my eating disorder was in fact, “that bad” and I should probably try to go to meal groups). They didn’t have my protein box. Instant relief. Then the lady says that they have some other protein box. Instant panic. The first thing that falls out of my mouth is, “how many calories are in it?” I asked Tree several times, and she wasn’t asking the barista, so I did, and there are 580 calories in it. The barista asks if I still wanted it, and I’m speechless trying to do calculus in my head to figure out what on earth was making it that high, and before I could say no, Tree said that I would take it. What is the first thing I do when I receive my box? I put it in the floorboard. I carried it out to the parking lot where we met Tree’s friend, and it stayed on the ground for a solid 20-30 minutes before I realized that I should probably eat it at the treatment center where I had people around me, otherwise, I wouldn’t have eaten it. I couldn’t bear the thought of eating it the way it came, so I went inside to the kitchen before groups got out to wipe off all of the sauces and roasted tomatoes while praying that a therapist wouldn’t walk in on what I was doing. Once I fixed my sandwich, we went back outside and maybe 30 more minutes passed until we started the process of eating. I had my box and Tree had her goldfish which was a lovely appetizer before her dinner. After finishing, I really had the urge to purge. This is something that has been slightly concerning, but I’ve just never brought it up because I physically can’t... but there have been so many times where I have tried over and over again, relentlessly, but my reflex just won’t let me do it. So I end up sitting next to the toilet angry with a few tears, frustrated because I can’t even do that right. But that day I found myself in the hallway with the perfect opportunity to attempt. Reluctantly, I decided to try, and then one of the therapists came around the corner and scared the shit out of me. Instantly changed my mind lol. 

     We left right before the group after dinner started, and I was in a really dark spot. I felt like no matter how hard I tried, this disorder would always have a grip on me, and I was going to be like this until the day I died--constantly fighting thoughts telling me I shouldn’t be eating. I mentioned this to Tree and her friend before we left. Tree reminded me that Recovered (a therapist there) had an eating disorder. She and I have often talked about picking Recovered’s brain about what its like to work with eating disorders, how she handles it, etc. So I decided I’d ask the question that had been circling my brain for the past hour: does it ever actually get better or even just easier? Surprisingly, but not really, she said that it does get easier. I’m not surprised because it honestly makes sense that it would get easier as long as I kept fighting for recovery, but I think I was surprised at how much it comforted me to hear from someone who knows what its like to be inside my brain say that. It helped, but I was still in a dark place, so I went to go look at things for my new apartment and to look at all of the cute animals in Petco. I really want a saltwater tank, so I talked to one of the associates for almost 30 minutes about salt tanks and the types of fish there are, etc. It was nice to have a non-eating disorder related conversation. Still though, my brain wasn’t really in a better place, so I decided to go to Target. My other happy place. Long story short, I have razors again. I gave my stuff up to Pink a while ago. 

     That was one of the hardest things I think I’ve done in therapy. I’ve given up razors before, but I’ve always kept the one. It was like a reminder of what I’ve gone through. It was like my scale. I took it everywhere. It was in my wallet. It was always there just in case. Fuck. I missed having it. I missed the feeling. So I bought more. I have a whole pack now. I haven’t done anything yet, but they’re there. This is one reason why I’m planning on getting a tattoo soon because I need that feeling. It feels the exact same way. 

     Speaking of things I miss, I was looking through old pictures on my laptop a week or two ago. We’re talking about the laptop from high school at the peak of my eating disorder. This piece of technology has allll of my old thinspo pictures from the several collections I had on my phone. Then I found my body checks. Honestly. I think that the body check pictures fucked me up more than the thinspo did. Some of the stuff I’ll reblog on here, I’ll think to when I used to be that size. Its weird looking at pictures like that now because before I thought I’d never make it, and now that I have and I think about what it was like being at that weight, I feel bad for the person in the picture because I know how much they’re hurting (to an extent of course), but I also cant help but to miss it for myself. I took pictures of the pictures to show Pink if he asked what pictures I was talking about. When I was explaining what time period was that the pictures were taken, you could just see the “oh fuck” expression come across his face lol. Not that I was happy to see him at that emotion, but you have to find the humour in the mess or else I’d be more depressed than I already am. 

     Speaking of Pink though, I was definitely going to show him this because I figured that it would be helpful for him to get a glimpse of me being vulnerable for once, but now I’m not so sure to be honest. I feel like this will get me put back in iop or php because fuck did we get dark. 

     Back to the picture thing though, I think the thing that fucked me up the most was that in the beginning, I remember promising myself that I’d stop when I could see my collar bones, then my hip bones, then it got out of hand, and before I knew it, I caught a glimpse of being able to see every vertebrae in my spine and every rib from my ribcage if I bent down. I remember going to my best friend at the time, Chrisley, and completely panicking. Why didn’t he tell me that I was that small, why didn’t anyone tell me? Why did people just ask if I had lost weight? Of fucking course I had. Why couldn’t I see the weight loss? Why did I still look like I did when I started losing weight? Nothing made sense at that moment. And somehow, the torture I had done to my body still wasn’t enough. You’d think that a person would remember all of those feelings and those feelings would keep them from making the same mistake. I have completely convinced myself that I will be okay with hitting 100. Oh, and thats because I got close to 110 and quickly realized that wasn’t enough. The fucked up part is that I’ll have a “normal day of eating” (meaning I’ll eat one meal... maybe two) and convince myself that I don’t have an eating disorder, or my disorder isn’t that bad. Same thing if I gain weight. God, it feels like it creates a physical sense of ambivalence deep within me. I fear I’m wasting Pink’s time, but I also haven’t fully made the decision to go back into my disorder completely. For some reason that physically hurts to even type, let alone verbalize. I’ve said it only once to Tree, and then later that night I found myself throwing up at a bar because I drank too much to numb out the thought that I may be falling back into my eating disorder completely. 

     I think I have a problem of letting people go/accepting when people leave my life--even in a professional setting. I get attached. There was one session where Pink made the comment where he said something among the lines of, “do you think that working with me is still helpful?” I remember feeling my walls quickly build up around me and getting really upset because he said that he wouldn’t give up on me (like several others in my past have... both therapists and friends), and in that moment, I heard that he was done trying to help me. We talked about it last week I think and that isn’t what he meant at all, and thats fine, but then I wondered if I was wasting his time or not, and it sent me into a tailspin. There was something I wrote down when I was still in iop, and it was in my gigantic “fuck you” letter to my eating disorder. The line was, “I’d do anything to get rid of you, but simultaneously do everything to keep you.” Ambivalence is a bitch. My eating disorder is one of the most comforting things because it has never left me, but it has fucked me over so many times and has ruined so much. Not just for me, but for my friends as well. I mean hell. One of them I’m terrified to wake up hearing that she’s killed herself, the other I’m concerned about her kidneys failing, and there are several who have just disappeared and won’t answer any texts or calls. I miss hearing from them. I hate watching us slowly waste away. I completely understand where they’re at though, and I don’t always want recovery for myself, but I do want it for them--but I know thats how they feel about me. Its just a fuckshow, and now my head hurts and I need a cigarette. 

Anyways, I’m going to go play around on my guitar for once. I haven’t touched her in about a week. I did finally get a name for her though. Jackie. Its actually the name of my grandma who passed away almost two years ago. She was a crazy motherfucker that my parents keep telling me I remind them of. I don’t know if thats a good or bad thing, but underneath the crazy was a heart of gold, so I’ll take it as a compliment. Sorry its been so long. I’ve been avoiding almost everything for the past month and a half. My thoughts included.

--Rian Dianna

[hiddlestonfanficinthebooks]

Chapter 7

A couple of hours later, the three of us were sitting in a restaurant, sharing a bottle of wine.

We all talked, and there was even laughter a few times. No one was killed in one of the dozen or so ways my dad knew how to do so. I caught him eyeing Tom a few times, trying his best to size him up. In the end, he liked him. He liked him, in fact, very much…even though he is British, he added as he shook Tom’s hand at the end of the evening.

“Daddddddd,” I groaned and rolled my eyes.

Tom just laughed and stuffed his hands in his front pockets.  “Allow me to drop you off at your hotel, sir?” he asked graciously a moment later.

“Thank you,” he smiled and nodded as he held open the door so I could slide into the almost non-existent backseat of Tom’s Jaguar.  

There was no way that my 6-foot-tall father could crunch his legs back there.  Holding my hand as it rested on his shoulder, he squeezed and patted it as we talked.

“And your classes?” he asked, glancing back at me. “You are still working toward this other degree?”

I nodded.  “Certainly. That’s what was all over the sofa when you showed up today. I’m working every day toward that goal.”

“Your mom would be so proud…she IS so proud, Annah. I just know it,” he added with a firm squeeze.

That brought tears to my eyes. Oftentimes at night, I lay awake beside Tom, wishing I could tell her all about him. She was a professor of history and taught wherever my dad was stationed.  In fact, she taught all the way through her chemotherapy. She turned in her grades at the end of her last semester and died two days later. She was that dedicated to her students. And it was that dedication that pushed my dad to begin teaching at Quantico and that pushed me to teach as well.

When he stepped out of the car and I joined him in his hotel lobby, my dad brushed back my hair and kissed my nose. “You look so much like her, Susannah…more every time I see you,” he sighed. “Sometimes, the similarities take my breath away.”

He was right; there were pictures of her that fooled even me into wondering when I had visited that place or met those people. We were the same height, the same weight, almost the same in every way. The only difference was that I had my father’s eyes brown eyes, not her blue ones.

“Do you love him?” he asked, holding my face in his hands.

I nodded, blinking away tears again.

“And he…he loves you?”

Again, I nodded.  

“That’s what I needed to know.  I’m happy for you, Annah. I am.  If he ever hurts you, though…”

I laughed and patted the corners of my eyes with a tissue I grabbed from the front desk.  “I know…I know. You’ll kill him, and no one will be able to pin it on you.”

He laughed as well and hugged me tightly. “Call more often? Please? I don’t want to get news about my daughter from some foreign landlord, Annah.  Got it?”

“GOT IT,” I smiled as he kissed my cheek. “Sorry, Daddy.  Now, we are having breakfast here in the morning, right?”

He nodded and brushed back my hair again. “Sometimes I still expect to see you as an awkward 11-year old kid, wearing glasses and overalls.”

“Dadddddddddd,” I groaned again.  “I’m not FAR from thirty. I’m a…”

He covered my mouth with his hand.  “Yeh, yeh. A grown woman living with a grown man, doing all kinds of grownup things. I got it, sweetheart.  See you in the morning after your meeting with your advisor. Got that, too.” He kissed my forehead once again and waved over his shoulder as he walked to the elevator.

The next morning as planned, we met, and we were nearly finished eating when he pressed back in his chair, patted his mouth with the linen napkin, and set it back on his lap.

“Susannah, I need to talk to you about something, since relationships seem to be the topic of the moment,” he smiled slyly.

I narrowed my eyes and waited for his response. Since it had only been the two of us for most of my life, we had always been very open and honest about everything. No topic was ever off-limit.

“I think ...I might have met someone that I’d like to see…you know, date,” he explained after clearing his throat.  

My eyes filled with tears. “Daddy! Really? That’s AMAZING. Who…who is she? Where did you meet her?”

“She is a professor in DC. A friend recommend that she ask me to guest lecture one for one of her military history courses.  We had coffee afterward, but we have not gone out on a date, per se.  I…I wanted to talk to you about it before I asked her,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

Reaching out, I squeezed his hand, and I could no longer stop the tears that had threatened to stream down my cheeks. “It’s been twenty years since Mom died. Twenty. Please, enjoy your life. You worked so hard at molding me into a pretty cool citizen of the world, but I’m all grown up…and all the way in England. I’m thrilled for you, Daddy. I am.”

Nodding, he cleared his throat again. “Her name is Evelyn. She lives in Alexandria like I do, about ten minutes from my house, actually. She’s my age, a widow. Her husband was military, Army, but I will forgive that part. He was, ummmm, killed in Iraq during Desert Storm. She has one kid, a daughter who’s an elementary teacher in Virginia. Susannah, she’s beautiful, truly. Here,” he added, pulling up images of the George Washington University history department so he could show me her picture.  She WAS stunning. “I don’t even know if she would want to see me again. But I have her number.”

My eyes widened. “If she gave you her cell number, she WAS interested. How long has it been since you did the guest lecture?”

He shrugged his shoulders before checking the date on his phone. “Hmm, two weeks?”

They widened even more when I heard that. Immediately, I pushed his phone across the table and said,  “Daddy! Call her. Call her right now.”

Shaking his head, he frowned.  “Not NOW. I’m in England, for fuck sake.”

“DADDY. She’s beautiful. And now, she is thinking you are not interested because you have waited so long. Call her. CALL. HER,” I insisted.

Reluctantly, he picked up and stared at his phone. “I’m so out of practice, Annah. What should I…”

I thought for a moment and responded, “Hi, Evelyn. Sorry it’s been so long. I’m actually in England visiting my daughter, but I ran across this article in her house that reminded me of that lecture I gave for your class. I’d love to see you again, maybe dinner?”

Taking a deep breath, he opened his phone to her contact and pressed the button to call her.  I could tell by his face that he got her voicemail. Verbatim, he repeated what I had told him and then clicked off his phone with a deep sigh.

“She’ll call you back. Today, I bet,” I smiled and sipped my coffee.  “So, what will you…”

My sentence was interrupted by his phone ringing. My eyes widened. His eyes widened.

I motioned that I was going to step away while he spoke with her. I took that opportunity to walk into the lobby where I sat and sent Tom a text, explaining that I would be back later than sooner. He had back-to-back meetings, so he messaged me to take my time as he would not be back before early afternoon. He snapped a picture of himself, his eyes crossed, his mouth twisted, to show his disdain.

I was still giggling when my dad walked out of the hotel’s restaurant and plopped down beside me on the sofa.  I just smiled and waited for him to sill the details.

“We are having lunch next week,” he chuckled and scratched his cheek.  

I clapped my hands and then threw my arms around his neck in a hug.  “YAY! Oh, Daddy, I am so excited for you.  Please, keep me updated on everything, ok?”

He nodded his agreement.

“We are going to a couple of museums this afternoon, right?” I asked when he stood.

Reaching out, he took my hand and helped me off the sofa. “That’s right, Sunshine. Military history at its finest. Well, second finest, behind us, of course,” he grinned.

After a another big hug, we walked all around Piccadilly Circus, snapping pictures all along our way. We then took a taxi to my university where I introduced him to my linguistics professors. We had lunch in a small café, and after, I went home to ready myself for our afternoon and evening out with Tom.

I had just showered when he got home; in fact, I walked out of the bathroom to find him collapsed on the sofa.  

“If you are too tired, honey, really…I am fine going…” I started to say, but he shook his head.

“No way. I look forward to talking about history with you and your father. I just need ten, fifteen minutes to rest. Wake me?” he mumbled as he turned to his side and cuddled next to a pillow on the sofa.

After I put on makeup and blow-dried my hair, I sat down beside him again on the sofa.

“What…what time is it?” he asked, sitting straight up, confused and still half asleep.

I glanced up at the clock. “Just after 2:00, honey. We are meeting Dad at 3:00, remember?”

“SHIT!” he exclaimed grouchily, shooting up the stairs.  “I told you fifteen minutes!”

I blinked my eyes and looked around the quiet room. I thought he would have wanted the extra thirty minutes to rest. I guess I was wrong on that one. He came back down from the shower, hurriedly tugging on a navy jumper and buttoning his black jeans. Impatiently, he looked up at that same clock as he tied his shoes and fastened his watch on his wrist.  

I didn’t say a word, for I had a feeling he didn’t want to talk. The entire way to the hotel, he was silent. When he stepped out to give the keys to the valet, though, he grabbed my arm, pulled me to him, and guided me through the door of the hotel to a corner of the lobby.

“Susannah, I am so sorry I snapped at you like that,” he sighed, tucking my hair behind my ears and then kissing my cheek. “There’s no reason that I should have done that. You were just trying to help.”

I nodded, tears filling my eyes.  

He lifted my hands and kissed them both. “Truly, I am sorry,” he whispered. “I want us to have a good afternoon with your dad. And I hope that will begin with this apology. I don’t do well when I have to jump out of a dead sleep and GO. That’s why I wanted that extra time to fully wake up. I love you, Annah.” Softly, he kissed me, looked down into my eyes for a moment, and kissed me again.

“Everything ok?” my dad asked, walking through the room to join us.

Nodding, I put on the best smile I could. “Fine! We were just discussing which museum we should visit first.  I said the Churchill War Bunkers.  But if you would rather the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich…”

“War Bunkers,” he answered with a huge grin. “Tom, how are you?”

Tom shook his hand as my dad extended it. “Good to see you sir. Ready to escape into the height of WWII?” he asked, much to my dad’s delight.

And we were off. Together, we walked, talked, and laughed most of the afternoon away. It was truly fantastic. We didn’t even begin to slow down until the museums began to close at 7:00 that evening. Tom, having thought ahead, made reservations for us at 8:00. I had mentioned days before that I wanted to take my dad to a very British restaurant for very British food. Tom said he knew just the place, and he was spot on with his choice. Because he certainly knew all of the food, drinks, and puddings better than I ever would, he offered suggestions for appetizers and entrees, and soon, we began to eat…and eat. I feared we would have to be carted back to the hotel.  Somehow, hours later, we managed to walk there.

In the lobby once more, my father unwound his scarf and took off his gloves.  “The way he talks,” he whispered, peeking over at Tom and then winking at me, “I can understand your not being able to get a break to call. Blah blah blah.” He rolled his eyes and then laughed to show he was certainly teasing. ”He seems to be a good guy, Annah. I’m glad you are happy. It’s all I have ever wanted.”

I hugged him tightly.  “I love you, Daddy.  Safe travels tomorrow?”

With a quick nod yes, he reached over to shake Tom’s hand once more before walking to the elevator.

That night, for the first time in ages, I was homesick. It was the craziest thing; my dad was still in London, and all I could think about was seeing him again.  So, two hours after I left him at the hotel, I took a cab there and went upstairs to his room.

When I knocked, there was a pause as he was probably deciding if he should open the door or not.

“Annah…what in the…” he started to ask. But I interrupted him by nearly tackling him in a hug.

I was a sniffling, sobbing mess.  “Is it ok if I sleep here with you? I really need to be close to you…I don’t know what’s wrong with me; it’s like I am having withdrawals or something.”

“Of COURSE,” he answered, closing the door behind us.

Lying on the bed, I talked and talked while he shaved and packed his bags. We then talked for another hour or so before turning out the lights and crawling into bed. Scooting back against him, I fell asleep while he played with my hair, the exact same way he did when I was a little girl.

When he left for the airport the next morning, I left for home where I found a note from Tom on the table: “Meetings. Gotta talk about the holidays today.—T.”

I walked upstairs, changed clothes, and went biking. When I returned, I showered and then forced myself to research for the next couple of hours. I had just printed off two new articles to read when Tom walked through the door.

“Hi,” he smiled widely and stepped out of his shoes.  Leaning over where I sat on the sofa, he kissed me. “I missed sleeping with you last night. The bed was so cold and lonely without you.”

I bit my bottom lip and smiled.  

“God, you are sexy,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me again.  “You have…the fullest lips…so…luscious. I crave them.”

That time, he crawled onto the sofa and laid down, his head resting on my lap. As my fingers played in his long curls, he batted his beautiful blue eyes at me.

“I am a sad case,” he chuckled. When I frowned in confusion, he explained, “Smitten. I am bloody well smitten.”

I couldn’t stop my giggles. I was a total goner, too.

[lilacmoon83]

The Enchanted Island

Chapter 4: Face to Face

George Spencer put on his best face and shook Johanna's hand, as they arrived at his facility. Mary Margaret Blanchard held the small blonde child, as she was helped into a wheelchair. She was already too weak to walk and she looked to be at death's door. They had mere hours, before it would be too late for any transplant to work. If Lance didn't come through and return his property very soon, he knew there would be hell to pay.

"Miss Blanchard, it is lovely to see you. I just wish the circumstances were better," George greeted. She nodded with a thin smile.

"As do I, Mr. Spencer," she replied.

"And this must be little Emma," he said, as he looked at the tiny girl, who hid her face in her mother's chest.

"It is...my pride and joy," Mary agreed.

"Come. There are preparations to make and our facility has accommodations prepared for your daughter and her nanny as well," he said, as she was led inside the top level of the facility.

The boat gently lapped along the waves. The Captain of the ship had allowed them to use the ship's cabin to take a nap. They hadn't slept since the night before and that had been in the forest so it wasn't at all a restful sleep. But this wasn't proving to be much better, as they were both plagued with dreams, which they were convinced were memories

Snow giggled, as she felt his hand slide down her back, while their lips moved passionately together in a rhythm that was quickly becoming their favorite dance. They had sneaked away from their posts again and made love several times, tucked away in her quarters. Red and Hook were covering for them though, so they hoped no one was any the wiser. Not that either of them could be bothered to care if they were. They were in love and didn't understand how that could ever be bad. The apocalyptic event that had made this way of life necessary had a very strict set of rules. Their King insisted they operate under this martial law for their own protection. What they were doing was expressly forbidden, but love never followed any set of rules and they weren't about to give up something this amazing because of some rule.

"Charming..." Snow cooed, as he kissed her neck.

"Mmm..." he responded, as their eyes met.

"Do you think we'll ever be free someday? Will we ever be able to leave this place?" she wondered.

"I hope so...the way I figure, the world can't be contaminated forever. If I was sure going out there didn't mean certain death for us, I'd take your hand and we'd leave right now," he replied. She smiled.

"It would be wonderful not to live underground...to be free to be together whenever we want," she mused. He smiled and pecked her on the lips.

"Someday, my love...someday we will have that. I'll take you somewhere far from here. We'll find a little town, like in the books you read. It will be by the ocean and we will...have a family," he said. She smiled at that.

"Do you really think we could ever have something so wonderful?" she asked. Oh how she wanted to believe it.

"I do...I have faith and so should you," he replied, as he kissed her again. Oh, it was a wonderful dream, but then like all her dreams, it quickly changed to something terrible.

This time, Charming was gone and she was confined to her quarters. Her belly was quite distended and she glared at King George, as he entered her room with a smug smirk on his face.

"Well...how is our lovely surrogate today?" he goaded.

"Where is Charming? You can't keep me from him...he deserves to know about our child!" she cried.

"Charming doesn't even remember you," George said coldly. Her face fell and she felt empty inside, his words had dealt her a blow she almost could not bare.

"You're lying!" she cried, as the tears came.

"No my dear...his memory of you has been completely wiped away. And as soon as you deliver this child, so shall yours. It's best this way...you can't keep her, after all," he stated.

"She's mine...Emma is ours! You can't do this!" she sobbed.

"Sedate her immediately. The stress isn't good for the baby," he ordered, as two orderlies restrained her. She cried and fought, but then she felt nothing, as her vision went black...

Snow awoke with a start and she saw Charming was already awake.

"Hey...another nightmare?" he asked. She nodded wordlessly and rested her head on his chest.

"They're not dreams, Charming...they're memories. I'm sure of it," she cried.

"Tell me," he requested.

"It's very happy at first. We're together...making love and then it changes. I'm alone...in a room and George is there. I'm...I'm pregnant and he tells me that you no longer remember me. And then he tells me that I can't keep her...I can't keep Emma," she cried. He kissed her forehead.

"Emma..." he said reverently.

"Our baby...I named her," she sniffed. He smiled.

"Emma," he repeated with more certainty.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"I love it," he replied.

"Charming...what if we never find her? What if we never find our baby?" Snow lamented.

"We will...we will find her. I have faith," he assured her and she smiled at that.

"I love you," she gushed.

"And I love you too, my darling," he replied.

"We should probably go above deck. I think I can feel us slowing," he mentioned.

"Charming..." she said, as she grabbed his hand, before he could go above deck and he turned to her.

"What happens if your...if James doesn't want to help us?" she asked. He sighed and laced his fingers with hers.

"Then we keep going. If keeping you safe means running for the rest of our lives, then that's what I will do. If he tries to hurt you...then I'll have no choice," he said. She nodded.

"I don't want to make that choice, but if I'm honest, it's already made. And it's you, Snow. I'll always choose to fight for you...for us," he confessed. She closed the distance between them and he folded her into his arms, as he kissed her passionately. As their lips parted, she gazed into his eyes.

"I've been having dreams too," he blurted out.

"What kind of dreams?" she asked. He caressed her face.

"Dreams of being with you. We're in bed..." he said, with a fondly, enjoying her coy smile.

"I've had those dreams too," she said, as she looked up at him.

"But like yours, mine also turned bad," he said, as she frowned.

"What happened?" she asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

"We were together and then George ripped us apart. Then I was in a room and they had me strapped down. I was calling for you...but he said in a few moments, I'd forget I ever knew you," he confessed, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"These aren't dreams. We met before...we were in love and then they took our baby away," she cried.

"They're memories and they erased them...or tried to," he realized, as she looked at him.

"I think so..." she said, swallowing thickly.

"We'll find her, Snow. We'll find Emma and then I'm going to make good on that promise. We'll be free and live in a little town by the ocean. We'll raise our baby and maybe even have more," he said. She smiled and their lips met again, as he picked her up and spun her around.

"We're getting ready to dock!" Killian called. He placed her on her feet and they joined hands, emerging from below to face what was to come.

"And I told you that if you can't handle the deal, then I'll find someone else who can," James Nolan snapped, as he discussed a business deal on the phone. He made his way to the liquor tray in his living room and poured himself a drink.

"Just get it done. If we lose this deal, because of your incompetence, then you're fired," he growled, as he hung up the phone and then let the stinging liquid slide down his throat. He wasn't supposed to be drinking at all and most of his foul mood had little to do with this deal. It was Mary Margaret. No woman had ever gotten under his skin like her. He had a well known reputation as a womanizer and the last woman he had gotten pregnant had easily been made to disappear with a very large check.

But Mary Margaret had been different from the beginning. James Nolan didn't love anyone...he didn't let himself. After his parents untimely deaths due to alcoholism and cancer, he promised he'd never let himself feel love for anyone else again. Then he met Mary Margaret Blanchard and a whirlwind romance had ensued. She was well aware of all this character flaws and loved him anyway. He had actually considered finally settling down and marrying her. Then she was diagnosed with cancer. He had visited her, but his selfishness to protect his own heart had led him to mostly closing her off. When he found out about Emma, he had promised his support and did love his daughter. But it was too painful for him...especially now that Mary was dying. He was hoping that she could be saved, just as he hoped he could when his own liver gave out. If Mary died, there would be this tiny human dependent only on him and he wasn't the kind of man for that job.

He cursed when he heard the doorbell ring, having given the butler the day off. He didn't like witnesses when he was in one of his drunken, self pity streaks.

He stalked to the door with the bottle of scotch in hand and when he opened it, he was stunned to find a man that was identical to him standing there with a woman that looked exactly like Mary Margaret. If he didn't know that she was at the Misthaven research facility, he would have thought it was her.

"What the fuck..." he uttered, as the bottle of liquor crashed to the floor.

"I...I know this has to be a shock," Charming said, as he held his hand up, just as the other clutched Snow's hand.

"Shock? Why the hell do you look like me? And her…" he said, gazing at the raven haired beauty.

"I'm...well I guess you could say I'm the organs you paid for," Charming said.

"By the look on your face...I'd say you didn't know," Snow added. James turned away to hide the fury on his face. If Spencer had lost control, then that meant Mary wouldn't be getting the organs she needed to survive.

"I suppose you should come in. Help yourself to a drink," he said, as he poured himself another. But the two sat down uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa. He took notice of how they had not let go of each other's hands even for a second. If his heart wasn't so hardened, he might have found it romantic, albeit ironic that his and Mary's clones were in love.

"So I guess that whole spiel George fed me about my organs being in an amniotic sac was just a bunch of lies," he stated.

"I'm sorry...but it's true. There are many more like us. They were going to take Snow's and I couldn't let them do that. So we escaped," Charming explained.

"Snow?" he asked.

"My name is Snow White," she said. This made James chuckle in amusement.

"Why does everyone laugh when I tell them my name?" she whispered to Charming.

"Because Snow White is a fairy tale," James interjected. Snow cocked her head to the side, her face a mask of confusion.

"Snow White is a fictional story. About a Princess trying to escape the Evil Queen. She eats a poison apple and then is awakened with true love's kiss by her prince," James explained.

"Let me guess...you're Prince Charming," he mused.

"Umm...I'm not a Prince. Just Charming," the other replied. James chuckled again.

"George has a sense of humor," he stated.

"So you and...Snow escaped and came here," James continued.

"We were told that finding our...sponsors and alerting them to the truth might be the only way to stay alive," Charming said.

"You were told right then," James replied, as he turned back to them. Snow and Charming exchanged a glance.

"You'll help us?" she asked.

"I just need to make a few calls. Then we'll get you two out of the country," he replied. They smiled at each other.

"Thank you," Charming said, as James took out his phone and walked into the other room.

"Don't think me yet," he muttered, as the receptionist at the Misthaven Research facility answered.

"Yes...this is James Nolan. I need to speak to Mr. Spencer immediately. It's urgent," James stated.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer has asked not to be disturbed. Can I take a message?" she asked.

"Yes...you can ask him why two of his clones are sitting in my fucking living room," James growled. There was silence on the other.

"I'll...I'll patch you through to Mr. Spencer right away," she stammered.

Mr. Gold got out of his car and limped toward the building with the aide of his cane.

"Mr. Gold...I'm Jacqueline, Mr. Spencer's assistant. I'm afraid he is busy dealing with a situation," she greeted him.

"That's just as well. I know my way around," he replied.

"Mr. Spencer doesn't usually let visitors have free run of the facility," she reminded.

"And yet I am no ordinary visitor, as I'm sure he has told you. That will be all, Ms...Jack," he said, leaving her behind. The Black Knights parted for him as well, giving him a wide berth, as he entered the facility. Gold stepped into the elevator and took it down into the bowels of the facility, all while observing the day to day workings of the facility. Once the elevator touched down, the doors slid open and he hobbled into the stark white hallways of the laboratory until he reached the end of the corridor. The door before him opened and he observed the hundreds of pods, filled with amniotic fluid and human clones in various stages of development. He came to stand next to the other figure also observing and they stood in companionable silence for several moments.

"Do you have it?" Gold asked. His counterpart let out a shrill giggle.

"I've done my part, dearie. Have you done yours?" Rumple asked.

"Oh yes...they are on the path we have laid out for them," Gold replied.

"And the product?" Gold asked.

"She's here...with the Blanchard woman. They're worried...the clock is ticking and soon, not even Snow White's organs can save her," Rumple replied.

"It is unfortunate. She is a nice woman, but her purpose has been served," Gold stated. Rumple reached in his jacket pocket and produced a vial with a blonde colored hair inside.

"I assume you managed to do your part?" Rumple asked.

"One hair from Snow White," Gold said, as he dropped the hair in the vial.

"To be joined with one from her Prince Charming," Rumple said, as they watched the hairs entwine and glow with a pink light.

"True love in a bottle," Rumple mused.

"The most powerful magic of all," Gold added.

"Then it's time..." Rumple said, as he extracted a wavy dagger from his jacket pocket, along with another bluish potion. Gold took the dagger and the bluish potion.

"And you're sure this is the opposite of the separating potion?" Gold asked. Rumple giggled.

"Guaranteed to rejoin your Jekyll side with my Hyde," he joked. With that, Gold poured the bluish potion over the dagger and held it before Rumple. The potion coated dagger glowed and Rumple became nothing more than tiny particles, as Gold absorbed his "clone" back into his own being. He slipped the dagger and the pinkish potion back into his suit jacket and turned back toward the elevator. Everything was falling into place.

George slammed the phone down, an evil smirk marring his face. Those two idiots had just walked into their own demise. They had gone to James Nolan of all people for help and he had turned right around and called him.

He had already called Lance and ordered him to kill Charming, promising Mr. Nolan he would grow him a new clone, free of charge. Then Lance would be bringing Snow White back and there would still be time to save Miss Blanchard. He chuckled.

"I hope you enjoyed your little adventure, Snow and Charming," he hissed.

James had led them to a guest bedroom and bath, so they could freshen up. He offered some of Mary's clothes to Snow and his own to Charming for a change.

"Um...I'm going to take a shower," Snow said, as she bit her bottom lip.

"Okay...I'll take my turn after you," he replied. But she took his hand and he looked up at her, finding desire lidded emerald eyes searing into him.

"I'd much rather you join me," she leered, as she led him into the large bathroom with her. He pressed her up against the closed door and kissed her passionately. She broke the kiss, just long enough to lift her arms and let him divest her of her blouse. His lips crashed against hers again and her nimble fingers undid the buttons on his flannel shirt. It fell to a puddle at his feet and her hands slid down his shredded torso to his belt. Charming's lips traveled down her neck, nipping feverishly and slowly making his way to her breasts. She pushed his jeans down and he kicked them away, as he resumed his conquest on her body. His hands gripped her hips and slid sensually up her taut abdomen, until his hands became filled with her breasts, still hidden from him by her bra. She gasped and writhed against him, her back arching against the door.

_Snowing_

"Charming..." she cried, as she felt the growing arousal between her legs. She yelped, as he turned her over and she panted rapidly, as he snapped the clasp on her bra and then slid his hand down to her underwear. She moaned and grinded her ass against the bulge in his boxers. He growled and slid her underwear down her shapely legs.

"Oh Gods..." she cried, as he dipped two fingers into the wet folds of her sex.

"Shower..." she uttered, as he tossed her bra away and kissed at her breasts, while slowly backing her toward the shower. She fumbled with the door and then the knobs, turning on the water.

"Ahh..." she cried, as he pressed his fingers against her clit.

"So beautiful..." he rasped, as he worshiped her breasts with his mouth. She stepped into the shower and he ripped his boxers away, before following her in. Steam rose around the entwined bodies and she cried out in excitement, as he lifted her against the shower wall and plunged inside her. She hooked her ankles around his waist, as he began moving inside her, thrusting hot and deeply.

"Oh Charming..." she cried, as he made love to her intensely for several long moments. He watched, mesmerized, as she came and fell apart around him. He continued to search for his own climax, while Snow planted repeated, loving kisses on his face, his lips, and his neck. A few more sharp thrusts and he came too, sending them collapsing together against the shower wall.

_Snowing_

She smiled at him and they exchanged several more tender kisses, before they started to sensually soap each other and get clean. As they dried off in the bedroom, he held her close and love shined in their eyes. There was no doubt any longer. This was true love.

Snow finished putting on a clean pair of black leggings and a long stylish white tunic with a thin black belt around her waist. As he was putting on his boxers and clean jeans that James had offered, he managed to notice two black vehicles pull up on the street and several men get out.

"Snow...we have trouble," he warned, as she came beside him and saw what he was seeing.

"He lied to us..." he growled.

"What are we going to do?" she asked fearfully. He looked at the blue button down shirt he had laying out on the bed, but then went to the closet and picked a black one instead. It was the same shirt James happened to be wearing and he quickly put it on. He took her hand and they sneaked out to the foyer, as Lance walked into the house. He had ordered his men to stay outside, probably to prevent them from running.

"Good...it's about time you got here," James grumbled, as he downed another glass of scotch. As Snow and Charming crept toward the living room, they passed another liquor tray and he carefully poured a glass of scotch.

"Stay here," he whispered.

"Charming...be careful," she whispered back, as he waltzed into the room.

"There he is," James hissed, as he pointed at his counterpart. Charming held his breath and gulped the glass of liquor down. It was awful, but he managed to drink it convincingly.

"He's lying. That's Charming..." he accused. James looked at him in disbelief and then chuckled in amusement.

"That's cute...you really think you can convince him that you're me?" he challenged. Charming was eternally grateful that Snow had insisted they read up on James Nolan.

"I am James Nolan, CEO of Nolan Technologies. I was born on a farm, poor as dirt, to Ruth and Robert Nolan," Charming said. James scoffed.

"He's just reciting my life! You can get this crap from Google!" James shouted.

"I believe you're here for this, Mr. Knight, is it?" Charming asked, as he pulled Snow into the room.

"What the hell...he's not me!" James cried.

"If you don't get her back to that research facility, the mother of my child is going to die," Charming spat. James looked panicked now.

"Damn you..." James cursed, as Lance's gun wavered between the two.

"Shoot him...I'm the real James!" James cried.

"He's just saying that so you'll shoot me and he can save his precious Snow White!" Charming shouted back. Lance's gun wavered back and forth a few more times and Snow screamed, as he took his shot. James fell dead to the floor and then the gun was leveled at them.

"You're not very convincing, Charming," Lance stated.

"You knew?" he asked. Lance smirked.

"You may look alike, but your eyes are much too kind to pass as James Nolan. In my days as a mercenary, I have found the eyes are a dead giveaway to the soul," Lance replied.

"Then why did you shoot him?" Charming asked.

"I'm afraid the moral dilemma that George Spencer has presented me with is one I cannot ignore," Lance stated.

"And as noble as I would like to seem, I have also been paid twice as much by another source to make sure you two survive," he added.

"By who?" Snow asked.

"Mr. Gold of course. And you may not believe me, but I wouldn't have been able to go through with letting George enact the plan he has in store for you both, even without the money Mr. Gold paid me, " Lance replied.

"Then that's why we have to go back there," Snow stated.

"Snow?" Charming asked in disbelief.

"Charming...we can't leave our friends to that kind of fate. We have to take George down," she replied. He smirked.

"You want to take back the compound?" he asked. She smirked back.

"There is a corrupt King that needs to be dethroned. Let's take back his Kingdom and free our people," she replied. He smiled and kissed her tenderly.

"Is Miss Blanchard at the facility?" Snow asked. Lance nodded.

"She is...and I'm afraid that even if I really were to offer you up, it is likely even a transplant at this point wouldn't work," he replied. Snow felt bad. If Leroy was right, Mary Margaret Blanchard was a nice woman. But it also meant their daughter...their baby girl that was stolen from them was there too.

"Charming...she's there too. Emma...our baby," Snow said.

"We'll find her," he assured. Lance looked between them.

"Wait...the child is yours?" he asked. Snow nodded.

"George tried to wipe our memories of our time together, but we've been having dreams. Emma is ours. I think Mary Margaret wanted a child, but she was too sick to conceive. That's where we came in," Snow explained.

"Then I think we had better be on our way. I think I have a plan. Do you think you can pull off pretending to be James Nolan?" Lance asked. Charming nodded.

"Enough to get us in," he assured. Lance nodded and led the pair out to his vehicle. He didn't need to alert his men to the plan. They would follow whatever order he gave without question. Snow and Charming gripped each other's hands tightly, as they drove off. It was time to stop running and stand against the tyrant that threatened their lives...