#so i just have to hope and pray that they don't sell out before then

[dans-lily]

of fucking course tickets go on sale friday when i have $5 to my name dan and phil i hate you

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— It's so fluffy, I'm gonna die! | Glastonbury Series

here's the second part of this small mini series i have been working so hard to create over the past week, this is one of my favourites so i hope you all enjoy it!

yet again a massive thank you to @alotofpockets and @lvnleah for the ongoing help throughout writing this and putting up with me throwing ideas at them all the time.

pairings: leah williamson x reader!monkey

summary: the first day of the festival, leah let's loose with the alcohol and monkey definitely does take advantage about the fact that leah is drunk and she can get what she wants, more so use her bank card to the extreme without her knowing

you can check out the whole masterlist here: chaos fc masterlist

As the night draws on, you watch Leah get more and more drunk and she definitely did let her hair down.

You definitely do enjoy seeing this side of her though and you can definitely take advantage of it even.

"Le, can I have my bank card? I wanna go get another drink," You have to shout over the volume of the music to get her attention as she clumsily stumbles around until she looks at you in suspicion, "Come on, I'm not going to go wild with it!"

"You better not!" The blonde slurs, pointing her index finger at you, "Be the sensible Monkey that you are!"

You laugh as she digs through her purse and hands you your card. There have been a few things around the festival that of course had caught your eye and Leah had refused to buy you them so why not buy them now?

Straightaway, you immediately make a beeline to the stand that you'd passed earlier that is selling stuffed teddies, "One unicorn please!" You grin before tapping your card and paying for it.

Sliding your bank card into your pocket, you're still beaming a wide smile as you eagerly clutch your giant unicorn, "Best purchase ever!"

Now you just have the task of taking it back to the tent so you can hide it from Leah until morning at least when it'll be too late to take it back.

"Boo!" Holly sneaks up behind you as you start to head in the direction of where you distinctly remember coming from where the tents were set up in camp, "Where are you off?" She questions, curiously.

"U... Uh, nowhere!" You stutter, quickly working to shove the giant stuffed unicorn behind your back because if it's out of sight then it's out of mind.

Holly quirks in her eyebrow in amusement, "Really? Who're you tryin' to fall here-- What's that behind your back?" She wonders, trying to take a closer look.

"What thing?" You try and play it off like you really don't know what she is on about, tightly clutching the unicorn and praying that it doesn't drop on the floor, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I can literally see it poking out behind your back," The older woman states in amusement, "What you got?" She repeats her words.

Biting your lip, you slowly pull the giant unicorn out from behind your back and look at her innocently, "Don't tell Le, please!" You all but plead now.

"Oh, Monkey," Holly finds it hard to stifle her laughter, "Is this you being sensible with your money, huh?" She teases you, ruffling your hair.

You pout at the older women and tightly clutch your unicorn in your hand, "Leah wouldn't buy me one when I asked, so I just did it myself! She's too drunk to even care right as well-- Will you please help me hide it from her?" You ask.

Hesitantly, Holly agrees with this as she nods, "Alright, come on... If she asks, I didn’t have anything to do with this!"

"Deal!" You exclaim a bit louder than necessary, "It's so fluffy I'm gonna die!" You can't help but quote one of the beloved Minion films you have watched previously.

But there's still nothing better than Shrek, of course.

Nor Marvel.

"Did you seriously just quote despicable me?" Holly can't help but laugh in amusement as the two of you walk back to camp.

"Yes... Yes, I did!" You nod proudly as you make it to the campsite and you suddenly pause in sudden realisation as your eyes widen, "Oh no! I should have gotten Buddy something!"

"We're back at the tent now, it's okay we'll go back and pick one up for her on the way back to the tent later on instead. Maybe a dinosaur?" The older woman suggests kindly, squeezing your shoulder gently.

Grinning in agreement, you carefully place the unicorn inside the tent for safe keeping, "Awesome, or should I say Roar-Some!" You joke with the woman.

"Come on Monkey," The blonde leads you back in the direction of where the festival is, "I can understand why Le calls you a Menace sometimes now." She states in amusement.

"I'm not even that bad, Leah exaggerates sometimes that's all!" You tell her as you shrug your shoulders, "I still gotta take advantage to find more things to buy on my card before she realises!"

"Are you sure about that?" Holly doesn't seem so convinced as you spot a cash machine and have the brainwave to take some money out, "Is this a good idea?" She wonders.

"I see it as," Shrugging your shoulders, you pop your card in the machine and punch in your pin, "Call it compensation right now."

"Compensation, for what?" Holly laughs in amusement.

"Compensation for having to put up with Leah's drunk ass," You remark as your card slots back out and you stuff it in your pockets along with the small wad of cash and continue to walk back to them.

Of course it's not long until you get distracted.

"Oh, stop! I see it, I love it and I want it!" With the tap of your card on the machine, you now proudly own both of them.

"What's with the cowboy hat... And the neon light?" Holly questions amusedly as she shakes her head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you adjust it on your head and start to walk back to the group, "It seemed like a good idea, so I did it cos' that is how you should live your life!"

"That is not a motto you should live by," Holly tells you in disagreement as she laughs, "Come on cowgirl, before they wonder where we've got too."

With a few purchases in hand, you walk back to the group. You are now extremely happy with the cowboy hat you spotted on the way back and a neon green flashing light that you found fascinating and it was just screaming out for you to buy.

"Hi drunky, we're back!" You grin at the blonde and lean up on your tip-toes to hug her from behind, and of course being in the drunken state that she is, she is more than willing to accept the hug.

"Monkey!" Leah exclaims, doing no more than turning around, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around, "Have you been sensible?" She slurs.

Just how much has she drunk while you were gone?

"I'm always sensible," You reply in agreement as you can't help but laugh at her antics.

"No, you are not," Leah slurs as she playfully pokes you on the nose.

"How drunk are you?" You question, not hiding your laughter.

The blonde gasps in shock horror, "I am not drunk! I can... I can tell the time!" She insists, eagerly.

You snicker in amusement, "Sure, you keep on telling yourself that one," Turning to look at Holly for confirmation, "She is so drunk, innit?" You ask her.

"She's just having a good time," Holly laughs at her cousin's current state of drunkenness, "But she will definitely have a sore head in the morning of course."

Leah still continues to cling onto you, "You're my cheeky Monkey! I love you! I do, I love you a lot!" She states, loud and proud.

"I love you too, Le... Even when you're as drunk as you are," You respond as you find her leaning her head on your neck with a bit of height difference.

"I'm serious!" Leah slurs as she continues to rest her head on your shoulder, "You are a pain sometimes but you are a pain that I love so, so much!" She tells you and it makes you smile hearing her say that, because despite how annoying you can get at times, she still loves you.

"I love the way she fills her clothes. She looks just like them girls in vogue. I love the way she plays it cool-- Oh my God. I love this band!" It’s your turn to scream at the top of your voice, pretty much deafening Leah considering you’re sitting on her shoulders and having the absolute time of your life listening to one of your favourite bands.

Is it such a good idea to do that when she’s had a lot of drinks?

Eh, probably not.

What is the worst that can happen?

Right now you feel like a dream come true to be here and it feels a completely surreal experience.

“Best time ever!” You continue to scream and dance to the music, having trust in Leah to not drop you on your head, “I think that she is beautiful…”

“Sing it loud, Monkey!” Leah encourages you loudly, keeping her arms draped around your legs so you’re a bit stable, but right now in the moment you are enjoying yourself too much to care.

“You know this song word for word?” Grace chimes in, looking at you in amusement.

“She’s so lovely, she’s so lovely, she’s so lovely, she’s so lovely, she’s so lovely, she’s so lovely, she’s so lovely!” You still continue to scream the lyrics on repeat, throwing your hands up in the air while having an absolute blast.

“And she continues,” Holly jokes with you.

“She’s pretty, a fitty. She’s got a boyfriend and that’s a pity. She’s flirty turned thirty!” You sing but more like continue to scream the lyrics down the blonde ear.

“What film is this even from?” Holly asks, curiously.

You peer down and gasp at her dramatically, “Angus Thongs and perfect snogging, of course! How… How didn’t you know that?” You question in disbelief, “You’re, like, old enough to know it!”

“I can’t believe you just called me old– She did just call me old, right?” The older woman looks around in disbelief, offended that you literally called her old.

“I did!” You don’t hesitate to quip in agreement, “Let down, complete let down! Anybody that doesn’t know this band or the movie is a fuckin’ let down!”

“Monkey, reign in a bit,” Leah slurs, very much not in the state to even scold you right now with the state that she is in, “Be a nice Monkey!”

“She’s fine, don’t worry about it. She’s having a good time!” Holly waves her off in disagreement as she laughs.

“Yeah, she’s just accepting that she is old,” You remark, sticking your tongue at the older blonde woman.

“Wha… Is she always like this?” Holly questions in disbelief, “I’m just getting constantly insulted here by this kid. I… I didn’t sign up for this!” She jokes.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. I'm sorry in advance for her like this," Leah slurs her apology, “You have to be nice, Monkey!”

“Nah. Get used to it,” You grin at the older blonde, who still pretends to look offended.

“Monkey,” Leah can’t stifle her laughter, “Be nice, you cheeky monkey!”

You would probably take her more seriously if she wasn’t slurring her speech while trying to lecture you, but right now she is too funny to handle.

“I’m only havin’ fun and winding her up,” You remark without even thinking about it, “I can’t help that’s my personality!”

It’s later in the evening and you’re now standing beside Holly, who is the most sober out of everyone, watching Dua Lipa perform on stage.

Meanwhile Leah is sitting on one of her friends shoulders, having the time of her life, throwing her hands up in the air and jamming to the music.

It’s hard to even know how much she has drunk at this point and you’re definitely surprised that she hasn’t managed to fall down considering how much she’s moving about up there.

Going back to the tent at the end of the night will be a fun experience…

“Woohoo! I like this one!” You shout enthusiastically, bopping your head to the beat of the music.

Holly smiles at your enthusiasm, “How’re you not tired, kid?” She wonders, curiously.

“I’m not old like the rest of you lot,” You remark, sticking your tongue out at her, “What’s your excuse?”

“Wow. You are so cheeky sometimes,” The blonde tells you as she shakes her head in amusement.

“It’s my personality, I can’t help it!” Shrugging your shoulders, you look over to where Leah is indeed having a great time on her friends shoulders still, “Le is still havin’ the time of her life as well!”

Holly glances at her cousin and smiles, “Yeah, she is. It’s nice to see her letting her hair down though. The past several months with her injury have been difficult for her.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement, having to watch the blonde suffer with her ACL injury was horrible and you just wanted to help her out in any way that you could do, even if that was to help out taking care of Buddy more. 

You would never turn down spending more time with your favourite little buddy. 

It’s great to finally have her back on the pitch again, even if she’s still bossy about things and all.

"Yeaaaah! Come on, come on, let's get physical!" The blonde that your on about screams the lyrics out loud as another one of her friends films her. 

You can't help but snicker, "You can say she is enjoying herself-- I'm not carrying her back to the tent tonight!"

"I'll handle it, don't worry," Holly tells you.

"Phew!" You exclaim, dramatically.

Leah definitely is letting her hair down tonight, drinking and partying on her friends shoulder and you couldn't really blame her because she is always too stern in your own opinion sometimes.

"Le! Leah!” You shout aloud to get her attention, continuing to poke and prod her just to annoy her, “Leeaaaahhhh!"

"Hi monkey!" The blonde beams a wide smile at you and drunkenly slings her arm around you once she’s gotten off her friends shoulders. 

"You're drunk!" You exclaim in amusement, leaning your body against her as you can start to feel the exhaustion hit.

Also hunger, you could kill for a pizza right now!

"Nope, I am... I am totally fine!" Leah slurs her speech.

"Nuh uh! You are completely drunk!" You disagree with the blonde.

"I think it's time we start heading back to the tent now," Holly suggests, catching onto the way her cousin is struggling to stand up without your support.

"I'm hungry!" You complain to the sober blonde, "Can we get pizza?" She wonders.

Holly laughs and nods in agreement, "We can get you something on the way back to the tent, let's just focus on getting little miss drunk over here back there right now."

"Good luck with that! I don't think she's in any state to even walk-- I already said I'm not carrying her back!" You insist, firmly, to get your point across.

"I got it, it's fine... Come on, Le. We're gonna go back to the tent," Holly tries to pull Leah in the direction of the walk back to the tents.

"Aw, what? No. The night is still young!" Leah protests, shaking her head.

Holly chuckles and shakes her head, "Yeah, but you've had a lot to drink. It's best we call it a night," she turns to the rest of her friends, "We're gonna go back to the tents. See you all in the morning."

"Awh, don't be a buzzkill Hol!" Leah shouts aloud, literally using your own words against her cousin.

"Hey, there my words!" You whine in protest, "We still have to get food!" You remind the older blonde of the two, who is somewhat trying to pull the blonde in the direction of where the tents are set up.

"Ooo, food. Let's get kebabs!" Leah pipes up.

You screw your face up in confusion, "Le, you don't even like kebabs?"

Leah points her finger at you, booping you on the nose once again, "I don't care! I... I need a kebab!"

"Nuh uh, let's get pizza instead!" You protest, you're not a massive kebab’s at all but on the other hand, pizza right now sounds great.

"Nope, a kebab will be better!" Leah continues to insist.

You can't help but groan, "But you don't like them, pizza is so much better!"

"Well right now I want a kebab and you... you have to listen to me because I am older than you, Monkey!" Leah slurs, trying to once again boop you on the nose but misses due to her stumbling around.

"Seriously? That isn't fair!" You exclaim in annoyance, furrowing your eyebrow, "Holly, tell her that ain't fair!" You turn to look at the older woman for help.

Holly let out a laugh and shakes her head, "Relax, kid. I'll get you pizza like you want afterwards."

"Winning!" You shout aloud in excitement as you begrudgingly navigate your way through the crowd, Leah stumbles a bit behind you and you can’t help but giggle as Holly has to keep a firm grip on her to prevent her from falling. 

The smell from the various food stalls waft through the air and your stomach growls in response.

The hot dog you ate previously did not do much to fill you up at all. 

"Can I get two kebabs, please," Holly turns her attention to the man in the food van, before she digs her own bank card out and taps it on the machine to pay. 

Leah leans against the counter with her eyes half closed, “Smells soooo good,” She murmurs. 

A few minutes later, the vendor hands Holly the kebabs and she hands one to the blonde, who takes a bite and her eyes widen, “This tastes amazing!”

“Guarantee you won’t even remember any of this tomorrow,” You state, grinning at Leah, who’s too busy savouring the kebab she’s currently eating.

So much for her being a picky eater, right now.

Of course you took photo evidence to prove to her that she did in fact eat this that you can’t wait to show her when she’s sober.

While watching the two of them happily munch kebabs, your stomach grumbles again, "Alright, can we please get pizza now?" You question. 

"Alright, come on little miss impatient," Holly nods in agreement, walking in the direction where the pizza truck is not too far ahead.

"Yes, race you there!" You took off running before the two of them even have a chance to realise you have bolted as you reach the pizza food stall and your eyes light up in glee, "Hi! Can I have a BBQ chicken pizza, please-- Wait, do you guys serve just slices or is it like a whole pizza?" You wonder.

"Whole pizzas," The man replies to your question.

"Even better then! Yeah, I'll take a BBQ chicken one, please!" You ask the man, taking the advantage of having your card right now as the blonde still hadn't even realised due to her own drunken state of mind, you tap your card on your machine and slot it back in your pocket.

"M... Monkey!" You hear the familiar voice call out your name before you turn around and see the two blondes have eventually caught up to you, "You can't run off like that-- Remember, there's big crowds!" She slurs her words.

"I'd take you a lot more seriously if you weren't stumbling around the way that you are," You remark, grinning at Leah who tries her best to glare at you, "Really, I am so scared of you right now, I'm highly terrified. I am!" It's just too easy to wind her up right now.

"You get your pizza, kid?" Holly laughs, trying to keep a grip on Leah who is stumbling about the place.

"Waiting on it now-- Hey, gimme me cowboy hat back!" You whine in protest, feeling it being swiped off your head, "Le!"

"Nope, it's mine now!" Leah slurs, proud of herself as she puts it on her own head.

"Le!" You grumble in annoyance, "Give it back!" You try to reach for it, standing on your tip toes but she has the advantage over you with her height.

"Monkey, here's your pizza," Holly accepts the pizza of the vendor and thanks them since you were too busy trying to fight for your hat back instead, "Okay, what'd I miss here?"

"Tell her to give me my hat back," You still continue to glare at Leah, "I brought it and she'll just lose it with the state that she is in!"

Leah gasps in shock horror, "You don't know that. I... I love this thing!" She states.

"Yeah, but Le, it's mine so give it back!" You don't care if you're whining and making a scene right now when you want your hat back and the drunken blonde is holding it hostage, "Give it back!" 

"Nope, it's mine!" Leah slurs, continuing to wind you up, "It suits me so much better!" 

Starting to jump up to try and reach it, you scowl at her, "Give it... Give it back!" With one final jump, you manage to knock it off her head and grin in victory, "Ha! It's my hat, you get your own!"

Holly laughs and shakes her head at your usual antics, "Alright, come on. Let's try and get back to the tent in one piece without a fight breaking out," She jokes, directing the way towards the tents.

"She started it!" You point your finger in accusation at the blonde, who is now back to happily munching on her kebab again.

"I know, I know. Come on," Holly murmurs, remaining to keep her grip on Leah, who is more concerned about her kebab rather than where she is going, "Careful, Le. Watch your step."

"I'm so gonna laugh if she falls on her face!" You comment, finding the whole scenario absolutely hilarious and of course you have your phone out to video it.

"Nearly there now," Holly has to virtually pull Leah towards your own tent, "No, Le! That's the wrong tent, don't go in that one!" She shouts, dragging the drunk blonde away from it.

"Oh this is hilarious. Hold on, hold on!" You're quick to react and pull your phone out again, "I'm getting this on video-- Le, you ain't living this one down, at all!" You exclaim, having great joy watching the blonde making a fool of herself.

"Come on, Le," Holly says, the exhaustion sounds clear in her voice as she guides her cousin in the direction of the correct tent, "It's this tent, there we go... You just sit here and uh, you'll be fine. I'll be back with some water-- Just don't move!"

Flopping down inside the tent, you can't help but snicker at the blonde, who seems in her own world as she still continues to munch on the remainders of her kebab, "You are so drunk and this is hilarious to witness right now," You tell her as you start to open the pizza box and tear a slice out to eat, "You're definitely gonna regret this tomorrow... And I can't wait to wind you up about it!" You say with a mouthful of food.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[downbadf0rficppl]

i didn't mean to love you so much

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: You don't know what you have until it's gone. Or is it?

Word Count: 6.0K

Repost

It took 3 days to arrive on D'Qar.

The Naboo N-1 Starfighter that you stole from the junkyard on Bracca was one wrong move away from falling out of the sky. Even with your constant mid-flight repairs, only prayers to the Maker were keeping her together. The BB unit you found kept you posted with constant, and frankly worrying, updates on how the ship was holding. Let's just say the plane was soon to be out of use.

When you entered the atmosphere in D'Qar, the landing gear erupted into flames, eliciting a series of explicit beeps from the BB unit. If not for the life-or-death in front of you, you would have burst into a fit of giggles.

Instead, you just grit your teeth: "Happy beeps, bud."

You and the BB unit left the carnage that used to be a starfighter flaming in the trees, bickering the whole time, and heading towards the Resistance Base. Towards new beginnings. Towards freedom.

Bracca was a junkyard, where scavengers and smugglers looked for parts to sell to the highest bidder. It was dark and dangerous at the best of times, and work was never-ending. It wasn't the kind of place you would want to grow up, but it was better than Kessel. Anything was better than Kessel.

It took a week to get to the Rebel base. Your head throbbed painfully with each passing day, with hardly any food in your system and little water to quench your thirst, the journey to salvation seemed almost unattainable. You had thanked the Maker for rain when it first came, but after 4 days of non-stop rain, you had cursed the skies for it. It only seemed to fall harder.

By day 5, the BB unit was running out of power, its movements slower than before. It was far too heavy for you to carry and without it, you would never reach the Resistance base. There were no sarcastic quips or complaints for its master anymore. No, the two of you traveled in silence, aside from the odd groan from either one of you. Its tiredness mimicked your own. You could only pray that the base would come into view soon. You weren't sure how much longer you would last.

When the planes came into view, you almost cried with joy. With newfound energy, you and the BB unit near-ran the way to the tarmac runway that signaled life on this dratted planet.

And while the BB unit was welcomed with cheers and open arms, you weren't so lucky.

You were marched to the medical bay by two men almost twice your size, flanked on the left and the right so you couldn't run if you tried. Your heartbeat in your throat. Of course, the resistance had to be careful, but surely this was excessive.

After you received treatment for your assortment of cuts and burns, you were delivered to a small room, adorned with only a bed and curtains to block out the light. Before you could say anything, let alone protest, the doors shut, leaving you alone in a small cell deep in the heart of the Resistance base.

As terrifying as the whole situation was, when you laid your head to rest on the bed in the dingy room, sleep came. It beat thorns and nettles on the forest floor of D'Qar. It beat sitting upright for 3 days, trying to avoid meteors and Tie Fighters. It beat restless nights on Bracca, hoping to gather enough for a meal. Sleep came to you better than it ever had before, and you reveled in it.

You woke up to familiar beeping outside the large metal door.

"BB-3?" Your voice came out as a hoarse whisper. The beeping got louder, almost unbearably loud, "Calm down, bud. I don't know how to open the door."

"Step back." A male voice came from behind the door, startling you. You stumbled backward, falling on the floor as the whooshed open. A tall man stood there, and if he were surprised you were on the floor, he didn't show it.

You scrambled to your feet, brushing the dust off your clothes as BB-3 rolled in, circling around you like a vulture would his prey. The man stood there observing you and the droid got reacquainted, before clearing his throat.

"Vice Admiral Holdo would like to speak with you." His tone was authoritative. You didn't want to be on his bad side. He led you toward an office on the opposite side of the building, your legs shaking as you walked. He shot you a pitying glance as BB-3 followed at your heels, before returning his face to its emotionless expression. You hated it.

It must have been early, as only a few people were up, and those who were seemed to want to rather be asleep. But no one batted an eye your way, despite the grime you still felt clinging to your face, and the ripped clothes you were wearing. You wondered if this was normal to them. People coming home grimy, hurt, and disgusting.

Only one man seemed to notice you on your journey.

"Snap!" A voice called out to you. The man in front of you - presumably Snap - broke into a huge grin. "Long time, no see, buddy!" Snap clapped the other man on the back, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

You stood there as the other man regaled the story of whatever mission he'd been on to Snap, and for a moment, you thought you were forgotten.

Until he turned. His eyes seemed to scorch your soul with their searching gaze. It was heavy, but you felt safe under it. Almost as if you knew that he would do nothing to hurt you.

"Heard all about how this one came in yesterday." He stretched out his hand, "Captain Poe Dameron. Pleasure to meet you."

You shook his hand and returned the favour, telling you his name. He tested it on his tongue, repeating a few times. Once he seemed satisfied, Poe turned back to Snap.

"How come you got stuck on babysitting duty?" He asked, mirth dancing in his eyes. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes or butt in - you wanted these people to like you. Sarcasm could be saved for later.

"Kid brought back my droid."

"BB-8 told me the story. Something about running from a resistance fighter, blowing up a depot train," you kick BB-3 gently, "and exploding an N-1. It was impossible. Maybe you should get your droid checked for gossiping?" Snap punched him in the arm, "Hey, it was just a suggestion." Poe grinned widely, "Oh, and the shootout. How could I forget the shootout?"

"It wasn't a shootout." You slapped your hand to your mouth. You hadn't meant to say that out loud. So much for saving the sarcasm for later.

Poe turns to look at you. "Oh?" his grin infuriatingly wide. "That's not what the droid said."

"It wasn't a shootout, we were shot at." Your confidence floods back into you. "And the depot train wasn't us. Wrong place, wrong time. Am I right, bud?" You glare down at the BB-unit.

He mumbles something about ruining a good story before whirring off to stop behind Snap. Stupid BB-unit.

"Guess you're more interesting than I gave you credit for kid." Snap stepped towards you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "The name's Temmin, Temmin Wexley. But everyone calls me Snap."

"Pleasure to meet you Snap," you echo Poe's words from earlier.

Your meeting with the Vice Admiral went well. She believed your story, well corroborated by both BB-3 and the bounty on your head placed by a well-meaning neighbour. She cleared you to start training with the resistance, though you surprised both her and Snap when you asked to be a mechanic.

Though when you started working on ships, it was clear to see why. It was almost like there was a secret language that ships spoke that only you seemed to understand. You scoffed at that. Beginner's luck you called it. Still, there was no denying that you loved working on the ships and that you were good at it too.

Months went by and you settled into the routines of the Resistance. You were given a room closer to the other mechanics, who, despite the constant tension of competition, seemed to like you well enough. You often sat with them for meals, although passing up on opportunities to spend more time with them. They seemed content with that. You got used to the early morning wake-up calls when the sun streamed through the window and urgent repairs needed to be made. You learned to enjoy the quiet evenings when everyone else had closed up shop and you could finetune repairs for those who needed it. You finally felt like you had a purpose. It was freeing.

Snap kept you up-to-date on the comings and goings of the First Order - never in much detail of course, but enough to satiate your desire to know more. In return you smuggled him extra jogan fruitcake when it was served while he was away. Sometimes, in thanks for saving your life, you made extra updates and repairs to his X-Wing when he came back from long missions - more often than not to save his those extra hours of tedious work.

Black Squadron had come home after a week long mission the night before. You had worked late into the night the day before, and you were now regretting it. Blue squadron had come into contact with a few Tie Fighters on night patrol, and the damage was hair-pullingly extensive. You were in for a long day. It didn't help that you could barely keep your eyes open, hands glued to a cup of Caf that was doing little for the tiredness clouding your brain. You didn't even notice Snap come storming in.

"WHO WORKED ON MY SHIP LAST NIGHT?" He yelled over all the mechanics. Shit.

You had done some basic repairs for him the evening before last and had spent the better part of last night finishing up repairs and repainting his ship. You knew how pilots were with ship paint. Maker, you were screwed.

After a few moments of silence, you decided it was better to own up than let everyone suffer. "I did, Wexley."

He slowly turned towards you, before grabbing you and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, lifting your feet off the ground. You were shocked. He was happy - no, elated. The rest of the mechanics, equally as confused as you, turned back to their work, ignoring the scene in front of them.

He still had you gripped tightly when Poe walked in. "Easy tiger, you'll kill the greenie. What did she do to deserve your wrath?"

"My wrath?! No, no, no, Poe. This kid is my new favorite person on base."

"I'll try not to take offense to that," Poe grumbled jokingly, "What did she do to deserve such high praise then?"

"Have you seen my ship? She's beautiful, more beautiful than Jess that one time." He started, about to regale a story, you did not need to know. You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"My sentiment exactly," Poe said to you, giving you a fist bump before walking over to Snap's X-Wing, closely followed by Snap himself. You trailed behind them, still unsure of what was going on. Poe dragged his finger across the paintwork, "He has a point though. I've never seen Snap's X-Wing look this good." Poe turned towards you, his warm brown eyes sparkling with pride. "Good job, Greenie."

You smiled gently, before turning away. It was high praise from Captain Poe Dameron, flyboy of the resistance.

"Maybe I'll snap her up, you know, give her a real ship to work on?" Poe said, his flirting tone making an odd double entendre that made your face light up in flames.

"Not a chance. Kid, you're my new mechanic. Officially."

"What if I don't want to be?" You countered, your sarcastic tone making both Snap and Poe burst into laughter.

You accepted the role though. There was no world in which you didn't. You enjoyed the perks of being Snap's favored Mechanic - you could sleep in more often, you were privy to more information than the average mechanic. He would tell you if he was to leave the base soon, you were often told just how bad a situation was. Snap trusted you. And if Snap did, so did the others.

'The others' being the other pilots on Black Squadron: Jessika Pava, Karé Kun, L'ulo L'ampar. And of course, Poe Dameron. It was almost like you couldn't escape him. His infectious laugh, his boyish grin, his boisterous personality. His ability to make even the most mundane task into a story for the ages.

No wonder he was so popular.

You began to sit with them in the cantina and you frequently ended up leading the repairs on Black Squadron, no one else being as trusted as you. You opened up to them slowly, telling them about growing up on Kessel and being brought to the Scrapper’s guild on Kessel. You told them the truth about your escape - Poe ended up on the floor laughing, saying “the real story’s so much better, BB-3”. They found out about your impeccable aim after a fun night in the cantina that ended in a tense game of holodarts. They became your family - more of a family you had ever had in your life.

And while, you saw Snap, L’ulo and Karé as your brothers, you could not say the same for Poe. Poe was a flirt, everyone knew that. But as you got closer and closer, it was harder to ignore the way you're heart sped up when he looked at you. How you're palms grew clammy when he smiled in your direction. How his praises and compliments made your knees weak. God you were in love with him.

You knew that half the women on the base had either slept with him or wanted to, and yet not one of them got even a second of his time. None of them except you. Poe would walk you to your room in the evening, and to the cantina in the morning, regaling stories of his adventures before he knew you. He’d bring you caf when you were working late, and sit under the stars with you at the end of a long day. He’d tell you stories of Yavin 4 and his mother. He showed you the ring that hung on the end of his necklace. 

“I want to give it to the one, you know?”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Captain.”

He groaned, “Don’t rank me.” You just smiled.

“So, no lucky lady in your life, Dameron?”

“No lucky man in yours, greenie?” 

You scoffed, “If there was ever a chance, they’ve all been scared away by you.”

“Good.”

You laughed it off, but inside your guts twisted at the idea that Poe was happy you were single. Your insides warmed at the idea that he might just feel the same. 

The next morning, you walked out of your room to the sight of Poe sneaking out of the room opposite yours. Half-naked. His eyes widened at the sight of you, and your hand quickly hid your eyes from the view. Your heart dropped. He lied to you. 

Poe sought you out later on in the day. He came up behind you on the landing deck, with a cool glass of jogan juice in hand. You had stripped out of your mechanics jumsuit, the arms tied loosely around your waist. Your tank top was almost a shade darker with the sweat of exertion and ridiculous heat. And yet you declined it, your face barely concealing your childlike annoyance. You knew it was stupid. You and Poe were barely friends, let alone anything that would justify your anger.

“I’m sorry.” Poe huffed, still standing underneath you in the beating sunshine. You were surprised: Poe Dameron never apologises.

“For what?” You said, your back still facing him. He sighed - he didn’t like it when anyone was annoyed at him. Least of all you.

“For this morning.”

“Why does it matter, Poe? You can sleep with who you want to.” You said, anger colouring your voice.

“It matters,” he yells, “because it upset you. Because, for whatever reason, the idea of me sleeping with other people, made you mad at me.”

His obliviousness tugged at your heartstrings, as if to say ‘he doesn’t feel the same’.“I’m not mad that you’re sleeping with other people.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

“Because you lied to me, Poe.” You say, dropping down from the ladder, sweat dripping down your back. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You said there was no one special in your life.”

“There isn’t.” You raise a brow, before grabbing the glass of jogan juice from his hand. “Just because we had fun for a night, doesn’t mean I’m getting down on one knee.”

“I think you’ve done it enough times for that to be proven, Poe.”

His cheeky smile returned, “Glad we’re back on first name terms.”

You shook your head at him, “For the record, if I ever catch you sneaking out of a room in my wing again, I’ll skin you myself.”

“If you catch me you say? Well, I like myself a challenge.” You slap him on the head, before climbing back up the ladder.

“Leave me alone, Poe. I don’t need your love troubles plaguing my every hour.”

“There’s no place for things like love in the middle of a war, greenie. First thing you learn in a place like this.”

If he hadn’t been walking away, he would have heard your heart burst into a thousand tiny pieces. Maybe it was for the best if you didn't love him.

Instead of wallowing in undeserving heartache like an idiot, you forced yourself to forget all about the way Poe made your heart feel. He became just another friend, pushed so far into the friendzone that was no conceivable way out. To his credit, you didn’t hear of another escapade of his again. He probably just got good at hiding them.

That always got difficult when he was sent on week-long missions. Your heart would migrate into your throat and even swallowing became difficult. Your mind would swim with worry, all for him to come back completely fine, his ship always seemed to come home the least scathed. A fact for which your heart was grateful.

"Hey, flyboy," you called, as you walked into the cantina. There were less than 10 people in the whole room - probably due to the ungodly hour of the day.

Poe was sat in the corner, the light of his datapad shining on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was unusually disheveled, which could only mean one thing. He was nervous.

You walked up to him. Evidently, he hadn't heard you from across the room, because when you came up to him and rested your hand on his shoulder, he flinched and grabbed your hand. You winced at his tight grip as he turned to face you.

Poe released your hand when he saw it was you. He leaned back into your chest, eyes fluttering shut. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gently.

You grabbed the datapad from his hands, and placed it face down on the table, "It's ok. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

You absent-mindedly run your hands through his hair as his head remained leaned against your chest. "It's not nothing. Is it a mission? You're leaving again soon?"

He hummed in agreement.

"You're leaving today, aren't you? That's why you're up early."

"Why do you think Snap got you to wake up early? You're not just a sight for sore eyes, you know."

His words made you blush. Never have you been more glad that he isn't staring right at you - it would give your heart’s deepest darkest desires away. 

He left that afternoon. After you completed routine checks for him, he was off on a top-secret adventure. Sometimes, it was easy to hate his rank, because it made it so hard to find out where he was, or what he was doing. But as always, you let him go and, as always, you prayed he'd come home safe. To you. You always pray he comes home safe to you.

Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. And while it wasn't unheard of for Poe to be gone this long, your heart could barely take him being gone for a day. That's the price of being in love. You'd never thought of yourself as still being in love with Poe until he left on that mission. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still raced when he talked to you. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still ached when he left for missions. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still burst when he smiled at you. But without him there, it's like your heart could not find a reason for beating. 

You continued on with your job, trudging through daily repairs and meals, trying to keep your mind away from Poe. You forced a smile when you talked to Snap - missing Poe hit him just as hard as it hit you. You forced a smile when you taught new recruits - you couldn't afford to have them hate you just because the Captain was missing. You forced a smile when you came down for dinner - there was no use in moping around in the middle of a war. But when you were in the comfort of your own room, you let the smile fall and the tears drip down your face. You cried almost every night for the first week that he was gone, trying to reconcile your newly found feelings and your newly lost friend.

It was a surprise to everyone when Poe crash-landed back on D'Qar with burns and cuts littering his body. You were up at an extremely early hour as working on Snap's ship when he landed, and you were immediately filled with concern. A tight knot wound its way around your throat, as you watched the scene unfold. BB-8 was nowhere to be seen. The ship is smoking dangerously, and parts of it are falling off, but most worrying of all, Poe was struggling to get out of the cockpit. You quickly threw yourself onto the X-Wing, hitting the emergency ejection latch with the spanner in your hand. The cockpit lid flew open and Poe climbed out, coughing heavily and clutching his side.  Snap came running out of the base, and grabbed Poe's arm. You ran up and grabbed the other, and the two of you dragged him towards the med wing. 

Two nurses snapped him up, cleaning his wounds and applying bacta spray where necessary. Snap turned away, mumbling something about an early morning briefing, but you stayed rooted to the spot. You couldn't take your eyes off his broken state, and tears slipped out of your eyes before you could control them. After a beat, you spun around on your heel and sprinted to your room. 

When the door clanged shut, you slumped onto the floor and burst into tears. You couldn't bear to see Poe in pain. You hated yourself for not being strong enough to fight through your tears to be with him. And you hated yourself for still being in love with him, when you promised you would be. When your datapad lit up with tasks for the day, you made the rash decision to call in sick. In the time you had been on the base, you had never called in sick. This job was your lifeline, your passion, and nothing, not even illness, would affect that. At least, that's what you had thought. You spent the majority of the week in that same spot, tears subsiding when you became so dehydrated that your body refused to let you cry.

On the fifth day of your hibernation, you finally left your room, having showered and gotten ready. Few people were on the base, apart from the mechanics and medics, and the injured - which included Poe. Given the lack of a real threat in the vicinity, General Leia had given the day off. You didn’t want to relax. You couldn’t relax.

You snuck over to where Poe’s beat up X-Wing was parked, and the sight of it almost made you tear up. The memories hit you like a brick. Poe barely limping towards the med wing. BB-8 being carried to the droid repair room. Fire extinguishers coating the X-Wing with hopes that it may be able to fly again. You got to work.

You were finally satisfied as the sun set over the vast treescape of D'Qar, covered head to toe in oil and grease. After some gentle coaxing by Paige - the only one aware of your all-consuming feelings for Poe - you agreed to grab something small to eat with her.

What you didn't sign up for was to see a broken and battered Poe sitting at the table, laughing at some stupid joke that Snap had probably made. He looked up as you walked in, almost as if he was expecting you. His eyes met yours, and you felt the tight knot in your throat begin to form again - just as it had the morning Poe crash-landed on the base.

Poe tried to lift his arm up to wave but winced at the action, the stitches keeping his wounds bound together stretching at the extreme action. You pressed your lips into a tight smile, willing the Maker to take your tears away. Paige handed you a bottle of water, before leading you toward the table. She left you standing in front of the table, where you awkwardly shifted your feet.

"Gonna sit down?" Snap asked, mirth dancing behind his eyes, "Or are you planning to put on a show? Wouldn't put it past you to have hidden another talent."

You smiled weakly, sitting down next to Jess and unscrewing the cap on the water bottle you had been given. Jess leaned over and whispered gently, "Feeling ok? Paige came up to ask if you were ok when you didn't show up at drills this morning."

"Yeah, felt a bit under the weather after morning rounds."

"Probably the shitty sleep you've been getting worrying about this guy." Karé said, pointing his knife at Poe.

Poe looked at you, his eyes wide, but you tried to brush off Karé's words, sarcastically replying, "Oh please Karé, the only thing you're worried about is whether or not they have that drink that you like from Sorgan, which is disgusting by the way - I don't know how you can drink it."

Everyone laughs as Karé splutters about how delicious spotchka is, the anxiousness wracking your body easing its reins slightly. Under the table, you feel Poe's foot nudge yours gently. You smile lightly at him, careful not to let him have a good look at your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face. As much as it shouldn't matter, you don't want him to know how much you care.

"You don't have to pretend you don't care for the captain, kid. You should have seen how she leaped to open the hatch Poe, something from a Naboo holodrama. Or one of those superhero films." Snap laughed, as your face burned red.

Poe raised his eyebrow, "Now that's something I would like to see. Maybe I'll get myself stuck in a cockpit again, just to see you in action." He laughs, but you don't laugh with him. You feel your chest tighten, and the knot in your throat return. Your vision clouds with tears, and you quickly got up, excusing yourself on the notion that your headache has returned, and that you should probably get some rest before drills the next day. You stumbled out of the cantina, breaking into a sprint as soon as you were out of sight. 

Poe’s eyes followed you as you left, worrying tinting his gaze. The group had fallen almost silent at your abrupt exit, looking at where you’d run, before turning back to Poe. Snap slapped the back of his head.

“Why, in the Maker’s name, would you say that?”

“What?” Poe said, rubbing the back of his head. Jess gave him a pointed look, “What did I say?”

“You joked about getting hurt, Poe! Why would you do that?”

“He didn’t just joke about getting hurt, Wex! He joked about almost dying!”

"Oh please, it's not that big of a deal. Everyone knew it was a joke. Right?" No one looks at him. "Right?!"

Jess waves at Paige, whose eyes were trained at the door. She meekly walks over, leaning down to talk to Jess. 

"Is she ok?" Paige asked, her eyes brushing over the group until they landed on Poe, "What did he do?"

Poe's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I'm so confused," he muttered under his breath.

"He made a joke.”

Snap butt in, “About almost dying."

Paige’s eyes widened, "You're not serious."

"Look, I don't know what's up with her today, but something tells me that that was the last thing she needed right now."

Paige turned towards Poe, "If you weren't injured right now, Captain, I would beat you up." 

"Hold up. I don't even know what I did." He said, standing up. "I get that the joke was a little misplaced, but it was a joke. I didn't put myself in this situation willingly."

"We get it, Poe. But you haven't been here. She's literally been destroyed - she's barely sleeping, I barely see her come down to eat, she spends all her time working on different ships, drowning herself in work. Today was the first day in the year she's been here that she's called in sick." Paige said, her eyes flitting between Poe and the door. She was in a half-mind to run after you, to console you. 

Poe beat her to it. He got up, ignoring the protest from his teammates, and headed towards your room. He knocked lightly on your door, hearing the gentle sobbing from your room.

His heart broke. He knocked again. 

“I’m fine Paige, I just need sleep.”

“Nice to know you’d lie to Paige.” Poe said, his voice steady and gentle. You open the door to you room, the door whooshing up to reveal Poe in all his glory, “Would you lie to your Captain?”

“Don’t pull rank with me, Poe.” You joked as he bent to meet your eyes.

He reached out to caress his fingers against your cheek and wipe away the stray tears. You leaned your head into his hands, the callouses on his hands like comfort against your cheek. He touches his forehead to your eyes, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t quite believe you were here. That this was happening. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. Poe’s eyes met yours, softly searching for something. Answers, probably.

“Why are you sorry, darling?” The pet name gripped your heart, so familiar and yet so foreign. The tears begin to flow freely again. He soothed you, mindlessly carding his fingers through your hair, “Don’t cry, don’t cry.” 

You look into his eyes, and can’t help but to sob harder. Why did you have to fall in love with him?

Your head curled into his chest, seeking the comfort only he could give. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He asked, whispering into your hair. 

“I didn’t mean to.” You said through tears. Poe looked at you.

“You didn’t mean to what, love?” He asked. You repeated it over and over, your tears soaking through his shirt. He lets you cry until your weak, pulling you further into his arms. 

He asks you again. 

“I didn’t mean to love you so much.” You confessed through whispers. It was so quiet that you thought that Poe didn’t catch what you said.

His widened eyes told you otherwise. 

“You…?”

“I love you.” You whispered.

“You-you love me?”

“I love you so much that whenever I see you my heart quickens until it’s uncomfortable.”

“Love -”

“I love you so much that my hands become so sweaty that I can barely keep a hold of my datapad.” You showed him your hands that were covered in a sheen. He gives you a watery laugh, before wiping your hands on his already soaked shirt. 

“I love you so much that when you leave, I can’t bear to survive.” 

“Love-” You interrupt him again.

“There’s no life without you, Poe.” Your voice broke as you dissolved into another bout of tears. 

“Love, please.” Poe sighed, kissing your forehead, “Please, just-”

“I know. It’s a war. I shouldn’t have, but I did and I can’t help it. Please don’t hate me, please-”

Poe grabbed your face, pulling you into him. He grazed his lips over yours, before pulling away way to fast. 

“I could never hate you, love.”

You pull him back towards you, smashing your lips onto his. He pulls you into his lap deepening the kiss further. You run your fingers through his hair, and over where the bandages cover his fresh wounds. Poe winced, and you pulled back. 

“You should rest. And heal up.”

He looked at you with such adoration, that for a moment you thought you’d melt away. “I have the rest of forever to heal up. I want this now.”

“You have me for the rest of forever. I think you should heal up now.” He rested his forehead against yours, sighing and closing his eyes. You kissed his nose gently.

“The rest of forever is too far away.” He whispered.

“You made me wait for this long. I think you could wait for a little longer.”

“Only a little bit, love. Only for you.”

He stood up, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed it, and he pulled you to your feet. The sudden motion had you dizzy, head pounding due to the dehydration. He caught you gently, lifting you into his arms, before gently depositing you on the bed. He left light kisses on your forehead, and left with the promise of coming back with water and a little food. 

He walked out of the mechanics wing and back towards the cantina, intent on his mission to get a little food and water into you. 

The whole of black squadron watched him walk in. Poe nodded to them lightly, not knowing exactly what they had been expecting. Apparently it was enough for them, as they turned back towards each other. 

He grabbed a small muffin and a bottle of water, before heading back to your room. He walked into see you asleep on the bed, and he couldn’t help but smile. God, she’s beautiful. 

Poe sat down on the bed, rubbing your arm gently. You opened a bleary eye to see Poe crouched next to you, blocking the moonlight streaming in from the window. He pulled off his shirt, and lifted your head up to get you drink some water, before settling down next to you. You rested your head on his chest before falling back to sleep.

Poe moved under you, pulling his necklace from around his neck and placing it around yours. Your hand immediately migrated to the metal ring strung on the end. Poe froze. What if it’s too soon. He relaxed almost immediately, as your fist closes around his rings.

He relaxed, pushing his nose into your hair. You smiled as he whispered something that he probably only said because he thought you were asleep.

“I love you too."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[redrose10]

Hey, Could I, please, have a story with picture number 2? It'd be awesome if you could turn it into a time traveller story, but you don't have to. I fully trust your talent and skills.

On the other hand, I think it's awesome how you could turn having very bad anxiety and panic attacks into such a nice short story. I hope you're better now. I don't know if you wrote it for the sake of the story or if it's true for you too, but The Last and Snooze are my two favourite songs from Yoongi :) I really loved that part in the story where you wrote about Yoongi's indigestion problems, it made me laugh.

Take care and get well soon :)

They are great songs that help a lot!

I hope this is okay. It’s kind of time traveler-ish but probably not what you were expecting. It’s spooky season themed too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Here is number 2 from the picture game!

Warnings: mentions of death, very slightly suggestive, angst

Disclaimer: Some things may not be correct for the time period. I tried my best.

“Spells, Potions, and Magic, Solutions for the Everyday Witch”, you rolled your eyes before tossing the heavy ornate book into a box. You always knew that your neighbor Ms. M as she was called was a little on the odd side but when her daughter offered you $200 to clean out her moms home after she passed away, as a broke college student you couldn’t say no.

It was simple. You could keep anything you wanted and everything else got chucked into a large dumpster that was sitting outside. There was also this book that apparently Ms.M had insisted you have even though you thought it was a little weird. Other than the book you kept a few pots and pans, a couple vintage sweaters, and what looked like a handmaid quilt. You had a box of stuff you thought that maybe you could sell for a little extra cash too.

You felt bad just throwing away this woman’s entire life like she had never existed but that’s what you were paid to do.

After you were all finished you collected your payment and your items and headed back home to your place.

The box of stuff you were planning to sell consisted of mostly some jewelry, a very old vase, a Chanel purse you were praying was real, and the spell book. You knew the campus bookstore would definitely send some cash or at least store credit your way for that one and you did not want it taking up space in your already cramped home.

After making yourself some dinner your curiosity got the best of you and you started flipping through the pages of the book.

‘How to turn your enemy into a frog. A step by step guide.’, you rolled your eyes because how original?

‘Black cat following you around? Use this spell to reveal their true identity.’, okay maybe the cat is just hungry you laughed.

‘Death by chocolate cake’, you 100% expected to find just a normal recipe for chocolate cake which you did until the very last ingredient said a touch of arsenic and you realized they weren’t kidding about the death part.

Interestingly there was one page in particular that seemed to have been opened to more times than the others.

‘How to bring someone back from the twilight.’, useful I guess if someone accidentally ate your death by chocolate cake you chuckled.

You wondered if maybe Ms.M had spent much of her life trying to bring someone back from the dead, maybe a former lover. She was probably so grief stricken she was desperate and thought something as ridiculous as a spell could work. You felt bad for the woman and whomever it was that she thought she could bring back.

Putting the book aside you started going through some of the jewelry you took to see what was profitable. What looked to be a man’s ring caught your attention first. It was very intricate with a beautiful carving of what you thought was a jaguar. The eyes appeared to be made out of diamonds or so you hoped because that would definitely up the value when you try to sell it.

You went through some of the other jewelry but for some reason that book kept pulling your attention back to it. You went back to the page with the spell about bringing someone back. As you fidgeted with the jaguar ring you began to read,

“When the moon reaches full peak and the skies are clear, read this verse, there is nothing to fear. Lost in the twilight, shall be no more. Once true loves companion, completes the lore.”, what the hell you laughed. You would have thought this was meant as a Halloween book for toddlers or something if it wasn’t for the recipe on how to murder someone with chocolate cake.

Having had enough you decided it was time for bed and you’d deal with the stuff after your classes tomorrow. You kept the ring with you wanting to make sure it was safe and went upstairs to finish your nightly routine.

When you woke up the next morning you stretched feeling a little sore from all the heavy lifting you did the day before. You reached over to turn off your alarm clock when you felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you close. It took a second for you to realize what just happened and that someone was currently in your bed with you, but once it hit you, it hit you like a bus.

You jumped out of bed in one quick movement stumbling for your light switch. Once the room was illuminated you got a good look at who was in your bed.

A man, yes a full grown man was peacefully sleeping next to you and at one point had his arm wrapped around you.

You had experienced one night stands before. It wasn’t your favorite thing to do but you had needs too. Never though had you ever had a one night stand that you didn’t remember. And you didn’t even leave your house last night so how did this happen?

What made you even more curious was that this guy didn’t look like the typical guys you were used to seeing around town. His hair was dark black and wavy and long, one side gently tucked behind his ear. His skin care routine must’ve been top notch because he didn’t have a single blemish and judging by how pale he was he either rarely left his house or was strict about sun protection. His clothes are what threw you off the most. Most of the guys you were around wore tshirts, hoodies, jeans, sweats and things like that. Not this guy. He looked like he was straight out of an 1800’s men’s fashion magazine, if that thing existed back then. The worst part was that you caught yourself staring at him a little too long. He was breathtakingly beautiful and you were a little sad that you didn’t remember anything from your time with him because you definitely would’ve liked to.

And then you reminded yourself that he was some guy you didn’t know and you should probably wake him up so he could get the hell out of your house and you could go on with your day.

Gently you poked at his shoulder but with no reaction. So you poked a little harder. This time he swatted at your hand and pouted which only made him look more beautiful.

So then you poked him even harder, “Um excuse me.”

This time he groaned before opening his eyes to look at you. It took a second but then he screamed and jumped out of the bed making you scream and jump back towards the door.

“Who are you?”, he asked groggy and out of breath.

That hurt a little that he didn’t remember you even though you were in the same boat but you’d like to think you were unforgettable so how dare he?

“Y/N, who are you?”

“Min Yoongi.”

“Okay Yoongi well whatever we did last night is over so it’s time for you to get going. I have class to get to.”, you said motioning towards the door.

You must’ve hit snooze instead of off on your alarm because it started making that familiar annoying ringing again.

Yoongi quickly brought his hands to his face to shield himself and he slightly crouched down, “What is that thing? Is it going to explode?”

You looked at him confused. “I wish. It’s just the alarm clock on my phone.”, you said showing him that you were turning it off.

He stood back up and smoothly moved his hair back behind his ear.

“Mmhm, where is the lavatory?”, he asked suddenly.

“I’m sorry what?”

“The lavatory, latrine…the toilet?”

“Ohh down the hall and first door on the left.”, you said pointing. He walked past you with a nod and you heard the door click shut.

“Jeeze, where did I find this guy?”, you asked yourself.

You took the time that he was in the bathroom to get dressed and went downstairs thankful that you had a second bathroom so you could finish getting ready there. Once you were done you went into the kitchen and got your coffee going and poured yourself a bowl of cereal, too tired to really cook anything. You took the book and the rest of the stuff from the night before and tossed it in the box so that it was out of the way.

After a few minutes Yoongi walked into the kitchen. You were kind of annoyed that he didn’t get the hint to leave but you still wanted to be polite because that was who you were, “Would you like some coffee?”

He nodded so you poured him a cup, “I have pumpkin spice or caramel macchiato flavored creamers.”

He looked at you with a straight face, “Pumpkins aren’t spicy.”

“Okay black it is.”, you whispered handing him the mug.

“Would you like some cereal?”, you asked.

Thankfully he shook his head because you had no idea how you would explain why your breakfast cereal had different colored marshmallows in it, something you just knew he would question.

You ate in awkward silence hoping he would eventually just get up and leave after realizing you weren’t interested.

Your phone which had been sitting on the counter charging dinged with a notification making Yoongi flinch back. “Why does that thing keep making noises?”, he asked still shaken.

“Well it’s a phone. That’s what they do.”, you said starting to get annoyed.

“Well back in my day there was only one phone for the whole city and it was attached to a wall at the courthouse and only made one sound.”, he said just as annoyed.

You took another bite of cereal unsure how to answer that but knowing that you needed to get this man out of your house and then reevaluate your life decisions.

“So uh did you need me to call you an Uber or something?”

“Uber?”

“Or Lyft or taxi or give you money for the bus?”, you said running out of options.

“Do you not have a horse and buggy to take me home in?”, he asked as if you were the odd one in this situation.

Slowly you shook your head, “Noooooo I’m sorry my buggy is currently in the shop and my horse is on vacation.”

You realized rather quickly that he did not appreciate the joke.

No longer having an appetite you started to collect your dishes when Yoongi grabbed your hand. He inspected it closely and that’s when you released you were still wearing the ring.

“How did you get that? That’s my ring.”, he asked.

“Umm it was in my neighbors stuff that I helped clear out yesterday.”

“Your neighbor? Where is she? I must see her.”

You were taken back a little by his outburst.

“Well she died about a month ago so I don’t really know how I can do that.”

Yoongi scoffed, “Good, I hope she’s burning in hell where she belongs that evil shrew.”

You raised an eyebrow not having heard anyone use that word outside of movies.

“How did it happen? Was she hung from the gallows? Slowly and painfully from Cholera?”, he asked a little too excited.

“Ummm she was like 100 million years old so I’m guessing that had something to do with it.”

“What year is it?”, he asked suddenly?

“2024”

“About 221.”, he stated matter of factly.

“I’m sorry?”

“She…your neighbor…Lenora…She was born in 1803 so she would be 221 years old.”

“And you know this how?”

“She’s my little sister.”

“Oookkkaayy”, you said, “Why is it always the hottest ones that are the craziest?”

“I am neither hot nor crazy. It’s quite chilly actually.” Yoongi said after overhearing you.

“No hot means like attractive, sexy, good looking.”, you said before feeling your cheeks heat up at the realization. Thankfully it seemed like he didn’t really understand anyways so you moved on.

“Sooo I’m gonna call someone to come give you a ride.”, you said reaching for your phone.

“A ride…with a horse?”

You smiled, “Uh no in a car with flashing lights that plays a song as it’s driving so people know to get out of the way.”

He looked impressed and nodded his head in acceptance.

“There it is!! I knew that evil witch had it this whole time.”, he suddenly gasped making you jump forgetting about the call you were trying to make.

Yoongi reached over taking the spell book that you had thrown in the box.

“I was looking for this. I knew she had it but she refused to give it back. She probably knew I’d become even stronger with it in my possession.”

“Stronger?”

He nodded, “Yes and then I’d become The Supreme.”

“The Supreme?”

He sighed, “The Supreme Witch. We’re witches. Do they teach nothing at school any more?”

“Sorry I haven’t taken Witches 101 yet. I’ll see if they offer it next semester.”

He shook his head, “Don’t bother. I’ll teach you.”

You sighed but took a seat anyways.

“You see every two hundred years a new supreme is appointed to each coven. A selection of witches go through seven different tests to gage their strengths and weaknesses. My sister and I were in the finale up against each other tied three to three. She knew there was no way she could beat me in the finale test on her own. So somehow she disabled my protector spell while I was sleeping and she used a curse to send me to the twilight. I’ve been stuck there ever since…until you got me out somehow. Are you a witch by the way? What family do you belong to?”

You chuckled, “Yeah definitely not a witch. All I did was read something from that book. It was a page that seemed to be used a lot. Maybe your sister was trying to get you back.” He started flipping though the pages of the book when a photo fell out. It was black and white and low quality but you could still make it out. Yoongi stood smiling next to a woman you figured to be his sister and former neighbor. You could definitely see the resemblance of your former elderly neighbor in the young smiling woman’s face. Yoongi looked exactly the same just with a big gummy smile that made your heart race.

He smirked as he looked over the photo, “Doubt it. We’ve always hated each other.”

He read something on the back that you couldn’t see before tucking the photo in the book.

“Can you take me to the city? I need to speak with someone.”, he suddenly asked.

You checked the time and figured since you were already late for class and probably dead for all you knew at this point, you agreed.

“Sure but first we need to get you to change your clothes.”

Yoongi looked offended, “What’s wrong with my clothes? These are very expensive and in high fashion.”

“Maybe in the 1800s but right now you look ridiculous.”, you chuckled.

Thankfully you had a stash of your brothers clothes that he always forgot whenever he visited you and they might just fit your new friend.

When he finally came downstairs your mouth unapologetically dropped open. You thought he looked good before but this was on a whole other level. The jeans fit perfectly. The tshirt a tinsy tiny bit too tight in the arms and chest area but no one would complain. The Jordans that you knew your brother would kill you if he saw you letting anyone else wear looked like they were made just for Yoongi. He had put his hair in a half up half down situation and you were wondering where he got the hair tie from but you didn’t care because you were ready to buy them in bulk for him anyways.

“NOW I look ridiculous. This is how men dress these days?”, he said feeling insecure with you staring at him.

“You know if we stop at the seamstress I’ll have her patch your brothers pants. Poor guy can’t even afford to fix the holes.”, he continued.

“It’s done on purpose. They’re supposed to look like that.”, you laughed

This time it was Yoongi’s mouth that dropped open, “Wait so he actually pays money to buy pants that already have holes in them?”

You nodded and laughed, “Yeah a lot of money too.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

In the car you showed him how to use the seatbelt and once he was comfortable you started the engine.

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

Seven days a week

Every hour, every minute, every second

You know, night after night

I'll be lovin' you right, seven days a week”, blasted through the speakers reminded you that you were definitely not the same person you were last night so you turned the volume way down.

“Ugh what is that racket?”, Yoongi questioned with his hands over his ears.

“That’s Jungkook. He’s like one of the most popular musicians right now.”

“This is considered music now?!”

“Yeah it is.”, you laughed showing him a photo of Jungkook on your phone.

“He’s adorable.”, Yoongi cooed, “And HE’S the one that sings such a stupid song about days of the week?”

“Well the song is not really about days of the week”.

Yoongi stared waiting for you to continue, “It’s about…it’s about sex.”

His eyes went wide. “And they let that be played to the public?”, he hissed almost more embarrassed than you.

“Yeah this song is pretty mild compared to others.”, you chuckled.

You offered to drive in silence but Yoongi insisted on listening to more of this Jungkook fellows music which you happily obliged.

“Where exactly are we headed? I kind of need to know where to drive.”, you asked.

“Well it’s a book store. It’s right next to the horse stable and across from the general store.”

“Okay well uh I’ll start driving and you tell me if anything looks familiar.”

Yoongi was amazed by all of the new technology. Traffic lights, billboards, hundreds of cars passing by.

“Wait wait wait…So we don’t even have to get out of the car? They just hand us the drink through that little window?”, he asked after you had stopped to use a drive thru for a snack.

You smiled as you watched his eyes light up when he sipped on a pumpkin spice latte completely forgetting about his disdain about it earlier.

Eventually you somehow made it to the location he wanted which also happened to be the campus bookstore.

You followed Yoongi inside and watched as he walked right up to Jimin who was standing at the counter.

“Hi Y/N”, he smiled until he noticed Yoongi standing next to you, “Yo-Yoongi?”

“It’s been a while. How is Emmy?”, he asked.

“She’s good. We have two kids now, two little girls.”

Yoongi nodded, “I’m so glad to hear that. I’d love to meet them.”

“You look good.”, Jimin praised him but Yoongi scoffed, “I look absolutely ridiculous.”

“No man this is what the kids these days are wearing. You fit right in.”

You watched on in awe as you found out that the guy who worked at the campus bookstore whom you at one point had a small crush on was apparently a 250 year old witch who was also married to a fairy. And he was now talking to a 250 year old witch who you accidentally brought back from something called the twilight where his sister, your deceased elder neighbor, sent him over a hundred years or so ago. You thought you were going crazier by the minute.

“So do you have it still?”, you heard Yoongi ask Jimin.

“Yeah uh she dropped it off about six weeks ago. She probably knew her time was coming. I thought about throwing it away since I didn’t think there was any chance but I’m glad I saved it since you’re here.”, he said handing over a small envelope to Yoongi.

“Thank you.”, he nodded before turning to leave the store. You said goodbye and followed after him outside.

Once back in your car he stared at the envelope in his hands. His name elaborately written on the front.

You remained silent realizing that he was going through something. It seemed like he was afraid of whatever was in that letter.

Gently he broke open the seal watching as the letter floated up in front of him and unfolded. A voice that you recognized as your neighbors began to speak,

“Hello brother, Good to see that you finally made it out of the twilight. I admit that I only sent you there because I fully believed you would be able to get yourself out of there in no time.

Honestly every-time a black cat crossed my path I thought it was going to be you. I know they were your favorite to shift into. If I had known that I’d never see you again though, I never would’ve done it. I missed you Yoongi. It was hard going through life without you. I hope that you can forgive me and maybe we can see each other again one day.

I left the spell book with my neighbor. Her name is Y/N. I think you’ll like her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and there’s something special about her. I can sense it. I think she could be the one.

Take care Yoongi. Love your little sister and still the better witch, Lenora.”

There was a spark and then then letter burst into a hundred little pieces before disappearing into nothing.

“Ar-Are you okay?”, you asked after noticing he hadn’t moved.

He smiled, “Yeah better than I thought I would be. That’s all I ever wanted from her. An apology and to know she was okay.”

You nodded then began to drive home when he cleared his throat, “Y/N, can I court you?”

“I’m sorry, what?”, you chuckled.

“Can I court you? Like we spend time together and talk and hold hands and then kiss and then eventually we partake in the sexual pleasure of each other?”

You choked on air, “Oh you’re asking me out, like on a date?”

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.”

“Yes I’ll go on a date with you but let’s start with dinner or coffee and then slowly work our way up to sexual pleasures.”, you smiled hoping he couldn’t see you blush.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I mean you did call me hot and I have been told that my tongue can work magic on the body that no spell could ever do but suit yourself. We can stick to pumpkin spice lattes if you’d prefer.”

You awkwardly laughed before deciding to hit the gas pedal just a tiny bit harder.

[pseudophan]

i just wanted to say i've really enjoyed reading everyone's asks about whether they got tickets or not and i'm sorry i havent replied to more of you i just feel like if i post 80 asks in a row about it people might get a little bit fed up. but i love this for you! or sorry that happened! no genuinely for those who didn't get the tickets they want, don't give up just yet i had a friend get the vip ticket they wanted literally two days before the show during ii like it might not happen but it's still possible i assure you. also if your show isn't fully sold out, keep checking it now and then, you never know what might show up

be careful about resell scammers though! make sure you have proof of a ticket existing before buying one. that being said there are a LOT of phannies selling tickets rn so don't just assume everyone is a scammer either. also i know twitter is a hellscape but it's a really good place to find resale tickets, for example twitter user ticketsdan is retweeting a ton of both tickets for sale and people looking for specific tickets, so if you're really desperate for a specific kind you might as well turn on their notifs and hope for the best. the twickets app is also good, several people are already selling tickets on there and more will be eventually

not to pray on anyone's downfall but sometimes people aren't able to go to the show they wanna go to and you can get insanely good tickets like, the day before it's happening. you never know. keep looking!

i actually just wanted to make a post saying sorry for not replying to most people today but unfortunately i'm tipsy so you got all of this instead. it's all good advice though trust me i'm a seasoned professional in the dan and phil tickets game

[vitzi9]

Pretty gifts

Joker X GN!Reader

TW/CW: reader is androgynous, murders, talking about kys, work in catering (it needs its own warning), reader curses a lot, mention of vomit, stalker, reader throws up, racism, Gotham is hell and fuck capitalism, blood, violence

tbh i'm a little sad bc nobody ever give their opinion on my works. I put another divider (like the red heart below) in the middle of the story, not really to separate as it's following directly but bc some people find my stories too long so it's like a checkpoint. So when you leave, you know where you were. (It's really long)

also the end is a little weird bc I have no idea if this fandom is still alive so, yeah :) if people are reading, I might continue it. Thing is some ppl find this Joker ugly so...

I hope you'll enjoy this. (19/02/2024) (17k)

You weren't weird by any mean, okay ? Life in Gotham is just really hard. You got harassed, robbed and assaulted more times than you can count. And each time by a new profile type ! Old, young or teen, it doesn't matter, everyone is desperate.

Some of your colleagues at work are prostituting themselves and you for sure considerate selling feet pictures.

That's how life is in Gotham.

But weird ? You stare at the angry man before you, unimpressed. You can't believe he called you weird as well as an incestuous result. You're neither of these. Fuck, how is weird and incestuous his first thought when insulting someone ? Like, he could've called you a fucker, a bitch... Anything !

Your aggressor, if you can even call him that after this, shows you his middle finger while walking background. Quickly though, he loses his balance and fall on the ground. Well, at least he didn't beat you up !

You already got assaulted for your money, which you don't even have, you got two jobs and barely reach the minimal wage. But at the end of the day they, well, stole the few you have, you know ? When you think about it, he strongly smelled like alcohol. That's probably why he failed his attempt.

Even stealing is death here. You never know who you're facing. Hell, just yesterday a guy was killed because he tried to assault some big chief of a mob. Someone with a clown face. TV says the man's limbs were still not all found.

Shit, getting killed by a clown must be mad humiliating too.

You sigh, trying to ease your tired traits by passing your hand on your face. At least the day is over, right ? Another day closer to death. You drag your suddenly much more heavier body on some few meters/yards more, silently praying that no one else will bother you.

Thankfully, your cries were heard. Pushing the old creaking door of the building, you rush to the mailbox. Never have you been comfortable staying long here. The door is only behind you and you don't know if someone is able to enter with bad intention.

Speaking of the devil...

No mail except for this weird card yet again. It's cardboard displaying a drawing of a joker, withdrawn from a poker package. It's certainly not the first time someone pull this kind of joke on you. Though, you have no idea who this is and it creeps you out a little. You turn the card to see if a message was left and sadly, (or not) you were right.

You've been trying to understand who this was for a long time now but in a big city like yours, with god knows who or what ? It's just impossible.

As always, you hate to think this because you don't want this creepy card to become part of your habit, a messy handwriting greets you in black ink.

"I'm everywhere in this city, no one can touch me yet some are fond of me."

You stopped school kind of early so your IQ is probably not high enough for you to understand that. Plus, you don't fucking want to.

You grab the card with you in order to throw it once at home and rush to the stairs (some says someone got killed in the elevator plus it's not working since months so you're not taking it anymore). Finally home. Your hallway still smells like piss and a deadly cold reign here (Nobody knows why). Two of the four bulb of the ceiling has burnt out and a faint static noise is resonating in the whole property.

This building is not even in a neighborhood that bad. But in Gotham, not that bad is still bad. Because bad is sleeping to the sound of gunshot and broken windows. While here, there's still these but not as often as in bad neighborhood. But you can add the moans hearable in the night in it as well.

Your building is really old though, which explains (partially) the bad state it's in.

Taking out the key off your pocket, you start to unlock the door. Unconsciously, your mind goes back to the card of the day. "I'm everywhere"... What's everywhere? There's air. But they specified 'in this city' so air might be too simple.

No one can touch me yet some are fond of me.

You can't touch air and you're not sure people are fond of it particularly. Like, air's fine. It's cool as fuck but are you fond of it ? No. Then what is it ?

You didn't even realize you were looking at the card again, your door wide open while standing in the middle of the hallway ridiculously. Slapping yourself mentally for being so careless, you enter and close the door and all your locks shut.

Some are fond of me, huh ?

In Gotham, what are people even fond of ? Misfortune you'd say. These fuckers love to see others suffer and even make sure they do by engaging in others people life.

But you don't know if that's really the answer. Damn, can't they just give you simple question? Or even better: stop giving you any ?

You drop your bag on the floor, slouching your shoulders and throwing yourself on the couch. Fuck, you hate your life. Why are you even here? You don't deserve this life. Nobody does !

Haphazardly moving your hand, you end up successfully grabbing the remote. You need to empty your mind, or have a background noise at least.

The screen lights up displaying you the newest information girl. The last man disappeared after he made the mistake of letting show his politic side. It's obvious everyone is corrupted here but the mystery in this story is ; who erased him ? It could be mob, politics themselves, everyone.

This city is lost.

The woman is talking about the incessant inflation and how numerous factories and business saw themselves forced to close for good. You just hope your business won't shut down, you need money. What if it does close, though ? You were already sweating trying to live with two jobs, but what if you end up jobless ?

It'll be impossible for you to pay anything. To keep your apartment. To eat. What are you supposed to do if this happens ? You already thought about that and all of your long reflection session always end up on one conclusion: kill yourself.

Because there's no way you're living without job in Gotham while being in the streets. You would have left the city if you had money or even family out there but it's not the case. So yeah, killing yourself that is.

Sure it looks a little extreme but isn't earth overpopulated anyway ?

It's better than being killed. At least, you choose your death ! But you're gonna hope this still won't happen. Up to now, your job is yours so taking such drastic measures won't be necessary. And you hope it'll stay this way.

Damn, you're depressed again. You drown out your worries by hiding your face in your couch's pillow. Man, what capitalism is doing to one.

You switch the channel without looking where your fingers pressed, this time a man is talking. He's saying something about a criminal and quoting every one of his crime. It was going crescendo, at first robbery, assault and burglary but just next to all of that was terrorism and mass murder.

You want to turn your head and watch the profile of this man but are too weak to move. So you simply listen closely to the man voice to get answers.

"Yes, he's a dangerous criminal and he's in town. He already break free from Arkham asylum twice now. If one of you see this man; do not engage, hide and call the police immediately. He is incredibly unstable and may not be alone. If you think you can win against him, you're wrong. He's a manipulative man and a mastermind. If you're seen by him, you better start to pray. Ends the man on a serious tone. Man, this guy knows how to reassure people...

-Indeed, a true monster. But please do not scare our audience. Batman was able to capture him twice, we'll be fine. The man chuckles but does not sound really honest. To answer all the questions you've been a lot to send us, we'll have the pleasure of meeting mister Harvey Dent here, chief of the police department to answer your worries. Harvey Dent ?"

And the voice switched to the other man. You like Harvey Dent. You like to think he's the only man in Gotham who's not corrupted. He's helping the citizens. Unlike that Wayne man. This guy could single-handedly resolve the poverty problem, but does he do it ? Of course not. He's rich after all, why should he care for bum like you ?

Harvey Dent is talking but you're not listening. All you know is that he's trying to ease the population. The men on TV are always saying the same things: empty promises. How the police is already taking care of the problem, that it'll be better soon. Like the police isn't already too fucking busy harassing the wrong people.

Harvey Dent is your last hope. The only man who can change things.

You deeply hope his promises aren't as empty as the other man before him. You turn off the TV and relax in the silence of your flat for a moment, breathing in the perfume impregnated in your couch.

There's screams outside. You can't tell if it's the neighbors or someone outside. Either way, you stand up feeling your eyelids getting heavier by each passing second.

But before leaving to your room, you stop in front of your window and stare outside for a moment. It's nighttime now. The city won't go to sleep, oh no, it's just waking up. The police can already be heard in the distance with its loud sirens. This city really is chaotic. It's just everywhere, you can't escape it. Touching it isn't even possible, you can't grasp it, nor resolve it completely; it's in the air. You can't fight against it. Nobody fights against it.

Fuck, it's like they're fond of it, here.

Chaos, it's scary when you think about it. Because you can't guess what's going to happen. There was a time when you thought that anarchists could be right but if anarchy looks like this, you don't want it anymore. You just want some peace and respect. But it seems too much to ask for Gotham.

You fucking hate chaos.

The next morning, your limbs were so sore you almost didn't make it on time to work. Your boss reprimanded you about your delay, pressuring you by recalling you the time one of your colleagues got fired for it. You were only late of something like one or two minutes but it didn't matter to him.

He only wanted to feel superior. He didn't even need real reasons to yell at you.

The restaurant wasn't packed. Only the usual rich families wanting to spend a pleasant day. They were here to eat breakfast. You try not to think too much about the fact that one single of their jewelry is equal to your salary.

The streets were alive; people running, cars honking. Your colleague hitting your shoulder to bring you back to earth, everything is normal.

"You think you can ask Mike to make another one ? she asks you with a sweet voice. The kid threw a tantrum. It's not salted enough and he hates sausages.

You lift up your eyes towards the crying kid in the back. Cold eyes stuck to his face. You're sure he specifically asked for sausage. You're the one who wrote down his order. And the salt ? Can't he just fucking put some himself?

-Don't question it. They're regulars. Plus, I don't think having beef with a kid is good for our reputation." Tells you your friend after seeing the death look you were giving him.

So you take the plate that looked absolutely perfect and delectable to bring it to Mike. Mike is an old man once passionate about cooking. Now he's forty three and stuck cooking eggs and toast to some crying kids.

"No fucking sausage and more salt please. you say, throwing the plate on the counter in a loud clatter. The man laughs at your anger and don't even need to ask to understand. 'Got it boss !' is your answer.

You lay your weight on the counter, back meeting the freezing temperature of it. Different smells invade your senses; fresh bread, warm oil and eggs. Well, lot of different smells were here as well but they're the one that really stuck out to you.

"You were late this morning right ? Did the client touched their plate ? You can eat it otherwise, it looks fine.

-Because it is, it was made by the best cook of Gotham after all.

The man laughs, mimicking someone blushing by putting his hands on his cheeks. He tells you that you're lying and that you're saying that to flatter him only. Mike had buzzed his hair a few months ago but they were back already; small rough curls mocking him.

You sigh and look back at the plate, it did look really fine. The kid hadn't even touched it ! The eggs and the bread were intact, left in the same state it was neatly put in earlier.

You spend your sweet time talking with Mike before your boss comes in infuriated, ordering you to come back at the front. And you're forced to do so. Grabbing a water jug on your way and putting on a fake smile, you walk towards a new family sitting so straight your back hurts just looking at them.

All of them laid down their menu and are waiting. You arrive, apologizing for the wait. 'Have you decided ?' you ask while putting the water on the table. The man takes the menu and start listing his orders without a smile nor even a look in your direction. The woman is busy keeping her children calm and asking them to calm down. The other tables are side-eyeing her while the husband doesn't even acknowledge his wife.

"Noted, you smile and turn your head to stare at the woman for her to start ordering.

She smiles awkwardly, and tells you her kids orders before ordering for herself. You thank them, "I'll be right back." and you leave to the kitchen. You sigh, scotch the orders on the wall, grabs the plate left for you to take and head back to the crying kid from earlier. The demon who ordered fucking sausage before saying he hated them.

But as soon as you place the plate before him with a smile, the kid slams his fists on the table resulting in his glass of water to splash on you and break on the floor. The mother gasps while the dad gives a slap in his son's head without even you registering the whole situation. Your clothes are completely soaked, you want to say something but his mother is sending daggers at you with her eyes and you know not to mess with this stupid fucking family.

Did he did it on purpose ? Yes. Are you gonna say something ? No.

"It's okay, I love children." you don't.

And you leave. Deeply humiliated. But you can't do anything. Because you're no one compared to them, they're gonna win. Always. Your friend asks if you're okay, you shrug. She's unable to question you further as she has to continue working. You head to the back in search of a broom.

The small closet is all the way behind the kitchen and you're already tired just thinking about it. Once you're in, you frenetically search for your item only for a shelf to fall apart behind you and destroy itself on the ground. You bite your lower lip with all your strength to retain you from crying and cursing the whole world.

It's okay, it's just a shelf. It's okay, you try to think but it's hard when it's not even noon and too much shit already happened to you.

You crouch down and start gathering everything you can when your eyes falls upon another one of these poker card. You frown and take it in your hands, examining it deeply. Uh, wow, okay. It's a little weird. You just happen to receive these daily in your mailbox and suddenly there's one here. Okay, totally normal.

You stand up, looking around you for an answer, trying to see if a camera is here somewhere. But nothing. So you turn the card to read the new message: You need one to live, I often rip it apart and yours is mine to steal. A heart ? you immediately think. You definitely need one to live and the sentence 'steal your heart' is kinda famous. But rip it apart ? Is it, like, a metaphor ? Glancing back quickly, you notice a small note left in the bottom right corner of the card. It reads: what a shitty shelf.

You laugh nervously, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What the actual fuck ? it's not even funny, what the hell ? Sorry for the fucking shelf ? They knew this was going to happen ? You definitely have to talk to someone.

You pass your hand on your face, rubbing it strongly as if to wake you up from a bad dream. Then you take the broom and head back.

Rushing to the kitchen, you accidentally pushes someone in your haste. You see Mike from afar and don't even need to approach him that you yell your question for everyone to hear:

"Mike, do you happen to play poker ?" the man faces you, his confused expression told it all, he didn't. And from the other's cook faces, they probably all thought that you were crazy. None of them looking guilty. But you'll investigate that later.

Not wasting any seconds, you almost run to the main room to find your friend. Luckily for you, she's cleaning glasses at the bar.

"Hey, is it yours ?" you're a little out of breath when showing her the joker card. Your friend simply shakes her head. When you asked her if she knew if one of your colleagues was playing poker, she shrugged and told you she didn't know with an apologetic smile.

"Why ? she asks.

-It's complicated." you say.

It can't be from the same person, right ? If it is anyway, that probably means one of your colleagues is the one putting these at your place. Which is a terrifying idea because you sure never gave your address to anyone here. Trying to see the bright side of it all, that means that you may know your 'joker'. And if that's the case, there's a way for you to stop them. It's better than the cards coming from a total stranger, because you can't act against them. You'll probably leave some clues at work to see and trap your joker.

The rest of the day was terribly hard. You were dying from the inside. Your tummy was growling like a beast; you did not have the time to eat. As you're juggling between two jobs, your boss thought that he had to exploit you as much as he could before you left. Because you're joining the bar, your second working place, at two pm.

"You're gonna leave in the middle of the day, when most people are coming. I'm losing money here, you see ?" he had said to you that day. Yeah, he does not give you any breaks because to him, you don't need one as you leave earlier. Of course you tried to negotiate and he was agreeing with you, on the condition that he pays you less.

"Mike, I'm leaving. you tell him, taking off your apron. Have a nice day, say hi to your kids for me." he smiles warmly to you, wave and you're out of the room in a quarter of seconds. You already bid goodbye to your friend so all you had to do now was to leave.

Putting on your jacket, your thoughts can't stop but think back about this other card you found. Yours is mine to steal. In what sense ? You could've thought it was some creepy flirting but it's just too much. You found these at home, at work. Everywhere. Are they going to rip your heart apart, too ? Are these threats ?

Hopping in the bus, you try to stay away from Gotham's crackhead as much as possible but it's hard when they're drunk and staring at you like they want to beat the shit out of you.

Fortunately, your stop arrives and you hurry to get out. It's 2:36 PM (14:36), the bar is not open yet but cleaning and organizing everything is part of your contract.

It's at five pm (17h) that you open the bar, standing behind your counter and waiting patiently for clients to arrive. You're happy Sean is here. He's a big man of 2m3 (~6'8), practices combat sport and knows how to handle different weapons. In a neighborhood like this, you're more than grateful to have him.

He's also the son of the owner. So it's really just the two of you here. The first persons starts entering the place and it quickly fills up entirely. It's quite a famous area, cops never comes here as mobs are doing their own laws. Sean puts on some background music you can't even hear anymore over the loud voices of the men laughing cavernously.

You're busy serving people's drinks. Moving as fast as you could but it being hard when your thoughts are plagued by cards and your mind is not here. Who's this joker man ?

The street lamp are all finally on, meaning it was past seven already. You didn't even see time pass, the incessant flirting and bickering of the men here enough to keep you from being alone with your thoughts.

"Thanks baby." says a young man when you give him his beer. He has a really bad scar going from his forehead to his lower lip. It's no surprise, you saw men with less limbs, other talking unknowns languages, some with sight or hearing completely lost. Sometimes normal people like you would come, women even but more rarely as the men here were true animals.

You wonder what type of people there is with you tonight. You're not naive enough to think all of them are innocent, in fact, you're sure 85% of your client here are criminals. This bar is situated apart from the city, in a corner more secluded with abandoned looking buildings and scary dark alleys you certainly don't want to visit at night, or even at day for that matter.

This place sucks.

Honestly, with your cards problem, you even considered engaging a spy to see who put these creepy notes in your mailbox. But two things prevented you to do so; first, you do not want to do business with criminals, second; there was a chance that your joker was one of your client.

Some of your clients here probably have mental illness as well, worsening their state. And maybe someone fixated on you and decided to follow you home. It'd be really awkward to engage a man to scare your joker away, only for him to be the same person you're trying to avoid.

But now this idea starts to disappear. You found a card at work after all, your boss is not stupid enough to let anyone break in. So the criminal track wasn't the one. It's one of your colleagues. There's just no way one of the bar's client could have followed you home and at the restaurant.

But on the other hand, it's difficult to see one of your colleagues following you home too. Because after working at the restaurant, you're not heading home right away. You're working here. Is it possible they waited outside until you finished ?

"A whisky for me." is what tears you away from your misery.

You do not look up, instead turning your back to him and reaching the shelves to search for the bottle. You grab a glass, throwing ice cubes in it and pouring the harsh liquid in. You then slide it to him, he nods and drink a first long gulp.

You follow his arm to his face before blocking on it. It's a man with a skin so pale it's getting worrying. His eye bag are terribly dark that you thought he had put black eye-shadow on them. And for a second, you truly thought it was the case. He had really bad scars going from each corner of his lips up to his cheeks, like a badly drawn smile. In the small crevices of his scarred skin, there was faint white and red paint, or make-up that did not left during shower. Is he like, a mime or a clown ? He looks like he haven't showered for a while, no judgements or anything, but his green hair are greasy.

He continues to savor his drink quietly while you're here, astonished by such weird scars. You saw scars, a lot of them. But they all looked accidental, caused by self defense or anything. But his clearly looked volunteer. You could clearly see that the goal was to create some sick form of smile, whether it is successful or not. What the hell happened to this guy ? Has he been tortured ? Did he make these to himself ?

'You got some nasty scars' you want to say. But the wicked grin he gives you is enough to make you gulp and smile awkwardly. Of course he saw you looking at him, you did not move an inch/millimeters. And he does not look like the type of guy to be nice.

"D'you like them ?

-Sorry ? you blinked.

-My scars. Do you like them ?

-Uh, yeah, yeah.

Fucking creepy. What the hell ? What did he do to have those ? Why is he even asking you this ? Why is he looking at you like that ?

-Do you want to know how I got them ?

-No." you answer at the mere second he ended his question, by pure fear he was going to destroy you. Or try to recreate those scars on you. Hey, you never know.

The man grins and chuckles at the quickness of your answer and stops talking for a while. Did you just escape death ? You think so.

He stopped drinking, though. You try to look busy but you're just organizing and disorganizing things on loop. Sean is having the time of his life chatting with the clients towards the tables area. But you, you're stuck behind the counter. You can't even count the times you got your ass slapped or got whistled. Plus, some of these guys often try to threaten you with knifes to make you give them free drinks.

It could've work if Sean wasn't here.

But it's comical in a sense. The morning, you're busy being the little dog, the little slave of these stuck rich people crying when their plate arrives one minute late, with prices on the menu so high it's clearly a scam for some eggs and bacon. With a ground so perfectly clean you could lick it.

And at night, you're here. Surrounded by criminals, drunkards and God knows who. With bad music taste rumbling in the background and place so dirty you could throw up and not even see it through the trash lingering on the ground. Well, in your defense, because you're the one cleaning, it was clean before. But everyone arrives with their disgusting shoes or bleeding and then they spill their drinks, and they fight and, yeah. At the end of the day, this place is a mess.

Your back is still facing the mime guy but you know he's staring at you. You know it because you can't stop shuddering. Your works are sure keeping you in touch with reality at least, you've seen both extreme.

"What's your name ?" You face him, afraid to offend this weirdo.

Telling him your name out of all the people ? Never. Smiling the best you can, you tell him your coworker name from the restaurant. He grins like a Cheshire cat, his smile accentuated by his prominent scars, nodding. You know better than to ask him back his name, he's probably, surely, a criminal. You don't have a death wish at the moment. You usually don't like to lie but this job at the bar taught you better.

-You know, he starts again and you pray he does not start to harass you with questions, he licks his lower lip before continuing. There's one thing I truly hate in this world. He pauses. You wanna know what ?

-Tell me. You say reluctantly, not wanting to anger him.

He lays one of his elbows on the counter, raising a brow and looking around him as if going to tell you a secret he wants no one else but you to know. Then, he looks at you again, a mysterious glint in his eyes.

-Liars.

Oh.

-They're such... he squints his eyes, moving his hand in the air to the flow of his thoughts. Vicious, little bitch, you know ? If we want to change things, he licks his lips, they're the first people that have to go. Don't you think ?

-Yes, I'm with you on that. you hurry to answer, nodding frenetically, feeling your blood run cold and a sweat cross your spine. Myself I really can't stand lying, you know ? Liars are really bad, they're manipulative and all. you were just trying to save your ass at this point. You received a lot of threats in your life, but this man right here ? There was something deeply wrong with him. He was fucking traumatizing you. You did not want to mess with him.

The only thing plaguing your thoughts is; does he know ? Does he know you lied about your name ? Because he specifically asked this question right after you presented yourself. Does he know ? No, no he doesn't. How is he supposed to know you ? You don't even have any name tag on.

The man chuckles deeply before you, licking very briefly his lips again; is that a tic ?

-What's his name ? he asks, looking straight to Sean, as if judging his soul. Does he have to stare at people like he wants to kill them all the time ?

Now you understand. He scared the shit out of you to ensure you wouldn't be lying to him. And now he's testing you. Why, you don't know. But you answer honestly this time. He smiles mischievously. Maybe that wasn't even his plan, maybe he's just deeply weird and unsettling. Maybe he doesn't even know you ever lied to him. Maybe you see things where there's none.

If there's one thing Gotham has taught you, it's to be wary of everyone.

-Are you fucking him ? he asks again, still looking at Sean laughing with the others.

-Why ? this thought never even crossed your mind before. Why would you fuck Sean ? He's nice, he's good looking but, you don't know, you wouldn't fuck him. You just, don't want to ? He's a friend.

-He's quite the tall guy. Are you fucking him ? he insists, ignoring completely your question.

Wow, that is getting incredibly uncomfortable and personal. You know you're supposed to entertain them and all but damn, this guy is killing you. You throw a glance in Sean's direction, hoping to catch his attention so he could help you but he's busy laughing with other clients.

-Why're looking at him ? I'm the one talking.

-I don't think this is appropriate, Sir. It's quite the personal questions you're asking me here. you laugh nervously, hoping to relax the mood but the man before you doesn't even react. Can I maybe offer you another drink ? It'll help...

-You got something to hide ? he licks his lips.

What. The. Fuck.

-I have to stay mysterious in order for you to come back, right ? you do not want this weirdo to come back, but that's the default sentence you usually say to avoid answering intimate questions.

But the make-up man does not insist, he gives you a cheeky grin.

-You want me to come back ? How flattering.

Most of the time, what you implies when saying this is that you want them to come back to consume more, so you have more money because you're kinda the bartender of this place. But this guy just plainly wants to fuck you up. Where's Sean when you need him the most ?

It's like no one around you is seeing you. They're all drinking their sadness, trauma, day away, not caring that a creepy guy is keeping you in his weird conversation you clearly do not want to participate in.

-Do you want to play a game with me ?

-I'm... Quite busy, actually. So...

But he knows you, now. He knows you're a bad little liar. Listening to you is now optional to him; he clearly doesn't care. The man stands up and you start to get scared. What is he going to do ? Is he going to hurt you ? Your hand is holding firmly the bat under the counter, fingers shaking with adrenaline. You never used a weapon before, less against someone. You never hurt someone, intentionally at least.

Sean, move your ass over here, now.

The man grins, eyes trailing your arms. He knows you're hiding something under this counter, but can he blame you ? You're surrounded by criminals, he's one himself ! It's impossible to know what to expect. Honestly, you're ready to scream to get attention and get helped. Even if there's high possibilities for a general fighting to start resulting in this poor bar to be destroyed.

But the man does not try to hurt you, he smiles, put his hands in his pocket and you now realize how well he's dressed for someone like him. A nice and well maintained purple suit.

"It makes me live and follow you at dark, keeps me up at night and makes you fall apart."

No...

-Who am I ?" He ends slowly, torturing you.

Your shoulders slouched down, tension leaving your hand on the bat. Your body become a big, useless puddle. Eyes as big as owl ones.

"I-I don't want to play. Your stutter had gave away your uneasy feeling, you step back, eyeing this man from head to toe.

You've come to despise those damn riddles. You don't want to hear more of them.

-But this one's so simple sweetheart. He mocks you. It starts with a pretty little O and ends with a N. I'm sure you'll find out.

You shake your head slowly; no, it's not simple, no, you don't want to find out, no, you don't fucking want to listen to him. But he simply chuckles, relatively amused by such a big reaction. Well, with that kind of huge revelation, you can't quite control yourself.

He's rummaging through his pocket, heart almost leaving you. What is he searching for ? A weapon ? What is he thinking ? But against all odds, the joker man takes out something so small you can't even see it behind his palm. You know he's doing it on purpose, hiding it from you to destroy you more, to see the look of surprise, fear or shock, or... Whatever, on your face.

-That's my business card, as a little... Reminder." You deeply doubt someone like him own any business, less business card. So what is he going to give you ?

He lays gently his hand on the counter right before you, not letting you see what he was hiding until he removed completely his hand, confirming your theory of him hiding it on purpose. You'd recognize them anytime. Your heart is beating faster, so fast you're scared it might explode. Nothing is written on the side you're staring at, you grab the cardboard, praying that it's just a crazy coincidence even if the drawing of the joker smiling stupidly on the card is taunting you.

But when you turn the card, the answer is given to you. For the first time since you've started to receive these.

-Obsession." you sigh, breath getting stuck in your throat. You were petrified. "You're... You're the joker man." you say in a shaky voice. Was it finally him ? Answers, you needed answers. But when you looked up, the man had disappeared. Leaving you with nothing but deep fear.

Silent tears slide on your cheeks, you bring your hand to your mouth in order to hide your muffles. Looking back at the card, you feel your legs give up under you when your real name is written in bold black letters in a bottom corner. Bile is rushing to your throat.

It's him. He's the one sending you these.

But you don't know him. You don't fucking know this man. And he's a criminal. You're fucked. Smiling like a madman, you start to laugh nervously, not realizing the situation. It's a joke, right ? You cough, progressively choking on your saliva. You bite your lower lip so hard it starts bleeding. You pray, you pray so hard this man isn't your stalker but you're lying to yourself. It's literally the worst case scenario that could happen.

You've never seen this man in your entire fucking life. Where does he even come from ? Why you ? Why him ? With his fucking creepy scars and fucking riddles. He knows your address ! Your name ! What else does he know ?

"You okay there ?" You nod without even looking at the person talking to you. You choke out a quick answer before rushing to the back towards the private toilet.

Immediately collapsing to the ground, you throw up everything you had in you, which wasn't a lot to begin with. You barely even ate anything. But you can't stop. You empty yourself, only vomiting water.

Sean finally comes get you, he rubs your back and help you get up. "What happened ?" He asks you.

"I don't fucking know." Is the only thing you can muster.

What you do know however, is that you're scared to go home.

"Are you heading home tonight ?" You ask him, voice hoarse. "Well, yeah" is his answer. So you asked him, begged him to come with you. Because you were horrified by the mere idea of going home alone. Maybe he would be here.

"You can come to mine if ya want." he offers. And you think that the guy from yesterday probably was right, you were weird. Why aren't you going to the cops, after all ? Probably because they'll think you're lying, that you're insane. A joker ? Harassing you with riddles ? You'll end up in a asylum in no time.

But wouldn't you be safer in a asylum ?

When Sean and you closed the bar, it was already well past one am. You didn't had the strength to redo this all over again tomorrow. But Sean was of good company, cheering you up and trying to ease your mind. Multiples times he tried to ask what was wrong, but he guessed it alone. "Was it that weird customer in purple ? The one with the suit ? I saw him lingering a really long time at the counter." You shrugged when he said that, completely worn out. What could he even do against him anyway ? The Joker man wasn't known to any of you. It was a lost cause.

Chatting with your friends wasn't even crossing your mind, you were terrified. The long walk to his apartment was as quiet as a church. What the fuck were you going to do now ? You were dead, yes, you were just dead at this point. What can you even do against some psycho following you around ? Fight back ? Yeah, if you have a death wish. You have to get out of this city, there's no other plan. But how ? And to go where ?

"We're here." says Sean. You've never been to his apartment's before, and to be honest, you would have preferred for it to happen in other circumstances. Trying to escape a criminal wasn't in this year plan.

Before you stood a tumbledown grey building, not much different from yours in reality. After all, Sean's not that rich, he's payed like you and live with his dad's payment. Though, you're pleasantly surprised to see the coziness of his place.

Warm lights were turned on, his sofa looked quite mellow and the general smell of the apartment was lovely. Not that you're judging him, but you wouldn't have thought he was such a clean guy. Because he's like, well, some kind of mafia man. So, yeah, he often smells like sweat and dirt himself, it's a surprise his place is so neat. Sure, it's damaged by humidity then and there, there's cracks in the walls but so do yours. The paint is peeling in some areas as well, you're used to it enough to not notice it. You take off your shoes, but keep your jacket. Probably in search of a safe feeling, maybe by fear of being vulnerable.

"You can sit on the couch, I'll order something.

You don't even have the will to eat right now, the ugly feeling everything entering your body might be threw back out instantly bothering you too much. However, you did sit on the couch. It smelt like him; you hated it. You were violating his property, his intimacy. You shouldn't be here.

But do you really have a choice ?

Sean is talking in the background, on the phone, yet, not a single word is understood by you. It's like he's speaking a whole new language. The red flowers on his TV stand keeps reminding you of the joker's card and his damn hat.

He hung up, that you heard, and left for another room. You hate to bother him, he probably only wanted to go home and sleep after a hard day but you messed up his plans. Grabbing the remote, you turn on the TV to empty your mind. You search for series, documentary or cartoons, only to be disappointed at the sight of obnoxious ads.

You end up watching the news, it being the sole channel not drowned in ads. A woman is speaking in a professional neutral voice, wearing a white shirt. She talks about the inflation killing our country before going onto her next subject; the outgrowing insecurity. The two preoccupation of the government, or at least, what they want you all to think about.

From what she says, a hold-up happened in a bank yesterday, in plain sight. (Why do they talk about it now, you don't now.) The building stank laughing gas. Only one man declares having seen the main suspect. Her chair slides to the side, leaving space for the video to appear and for the victim to testify; "Green disgusting hair and some fucked up clown make-up. That's the only thing I saw. He has no value, I'm telling you, criminals used to believe in things ! He has no respect for anyone, he killed his own team ! He's gonna come back for me, I'm sure of..." and he's erased from the screen at his outburst, for everyone to forget his trauma.

Did he say clown ?

"Indeed, the woman vigorously resumes, a faint smile on, was she laughing at the victim ? green hair and clown make-up is on brand today as everyone only talks about this mysterious criminal. After disappearing for months, the troublemaker is back in town and seems unstoppable. But has he truly ever gone away ?

It's not the same man, right ? No, no of course not. If he's a famous criminal, he has better things to do than harass insignificant useless civilians like you with stupid riddles. He robbed a bank ! Why would he even look in your direction? Fuck, what if he thinks you have some kind information? What if he think you're related to a criminal ? What if you are ?

-He calls himself Joker, always wears his clown make up and has a habit of wandering at night." The woman straightens her posture and clasps her hands together. "After yesterday's fiasco, the famous criminal already perpetrated his next attack. Earlier, at noon, the biggest hospital of the city was targeted. Cops were able to evacuate everyone urgently. Gotham is in shamble, people are afraid and angry. The police is trying to calm the crowds, in vain." Images are shown behind her of people running, yelling, stretchers evacuating and flashing cops car during her speech.

She continues talking but you stopped listening when finally a picture of the Joker was displayed on the screen, his face horrifyingly reminding you something. Too many information are going to your brain in so little time. You try to rationalize everything but it's hard when your mind is too tired to cooperate.

He's called the Joker. And you happen to receive joker cards. He wears make up. The man at the bar looked like he did. Hyperventilating is the only thing seemingly still possible from your body. You stand up, inking, sinking, learning, engraving his face to memory.

Two big scars, both going from each corner of his mouth to his cheeks.

Like a badly drawn smile.

"Sean !" you call. Your friend runs out of the bathroom, disheveled, shirt loose and no pants, only in underwear. He rushed out, scared something had happened. Your shaking pointer aim at the TV screen, at the face of the man on it. "It's him. He was at the bar."

When Sean looks at the man, a chill runs down his spine. He understands what might have happened earlier. He could see the purple suit the man had on on the picture, which was the exact same one he saw at the bar. Fuck, it is the same man. He knows the Joker, hell, everyone knows him here.

And that's bad news.

He's everywhere in everyone business. He has no sense of loyalty whatsoever, killing even his best allies and no one has the slightest clue what he wants. At the bar, he probably scared the shit out of you, he probably threatened you, too. Why, it's impossible to know. He's quite the unpredictable.

-Don't worry, he says, he probably forgot about you already. He's a scary man, likes to shock people a little. He always attack for a reason and you're not a criminal, so you're good."

But you couldn't believe it. He does not have all the information. He doesn't know about the tons of cards you received until now. Eyes completely stuck to the screen, you observe the face before you, knowing you probably wouldn't be able to escape him.

Somehow, this emission confirmed to you that he was real, that you weren't dreaming. And that you really were in it deeply.

Sean insists you shower to relax a little bit, you're holding onto the remote for dear life, nails digging in your palm. When in the bathroom, your eyes automatically gravitates towards the mirror, discovering your new face scarred by sleepless nights and cries. You're almost scared of your reflection. Sighing, your hands find themselves in your pockets alone but you're startled by the coldness they are greeted with. What have you in your pocket that is freezing like that ?

Your unease comes back in a rush when you take out another one of these cards from your jacket. Are you for real going crazy ? What is going on ? When did this get here ? How did it get here ? It's your damn jacket ! You had it in the work closet all day !

You're tired and doing this little fucked up game is not doing any good. A greasy almost wiped red is the first thing you see, his lips, you guess. He wears some kind of paint as lip stick, he fucking kissed the card, creepy bastard.

Turning the stiff paper, your eyes meet once again one of these painful riddle.

"I'm everywhere, you can't escape me and I'm coming for you. Who am I ?" tears slide quietly on your cheeks, the only sane reaction your emotionless state can give. You're not even moving, eyes staying fixated on the card; the tears are just physical. Body exhausted from it all. What is this now ? You know he's not talking about an object anymore, he's talking about himself. It's not riddles, it's threats. He's coming for you, what is he going to do ? Kill you ? Torture you, or worse ?

The shower did nothing to ease your nerves, you've never been so tensed in your life. What could you even do against this man ?

When Sean called you to eat, you let him know you weren't feeling the slightest hunger. He said nothing, simply keeping a plate for you on the kitchen counter.

You did not even blink an eye that night, paranoid at the slightest noise, a knife slept cautiously under your cushion. The windows and doors were completely shut and you would have loved to do the very same thing to your brain. You fell asleep, eventually, when you should have been up.

Sean was still asleep when you awoke the next day. You were late, and terribly so, the clicking clock on the wall warning you. It was already way past nine. You don't like to leave his house without even thanking him for his hospitality once again. But you'll see him tonight, at the bar. You'll probably have to quit, though. Not yet, as you have to secure another job. You can't risk being here without money, after all. Joker knows where you work at, no way you're staying more than necessary. But... he has to know about your restaurant job too, somehow.

You had a card in the closet, with his stupid shelf trap, after all.

You're safer there, maybe. It's quite the chic area. There's camera, people. Socialites are here, nobody attacks socialites. Usually, at least. Doubts subsists, the journalist on the TV affirmed the Joker attacked in the middle of the day, in plain sight. Would he attack the rich ? They're untouchable, their lawyer always know what to do and they know everyone. You can't kill a famous advocate, right ? It's like attacking the mayor. Remembering his face, you keep the unsettling impression he could kill anyone.

Fuck.

You take a piece of paper, write a few words on it, scotch it on the fridge and leave, dashing outside to not worsen your lateness. You were dead, oh you were so dead. Late couldn't even describe your situation by now. You boss was going to kill you, de-materialize you and send you in another world.

You ran until your legs couldn't support you anymore, people were side-eyeing you in the streets. Certainly thinking of you as some kind of thief or at the very least a criminal of some sort.

Jumping in the nearest bus, your legs being too weak to support you anymore, you finally arrive at your workplace ten minutes later. It was quarter to ten.

You're breathless, rushing once again to the rear of the restaurant. You push the back door open but to your surprise, it won't budge. What ? The guys never lock the door that early in the morning, they know you'll arrive, eventually. You knock a few times, knowing you had the key anyway but if someone was passing by inside, it would be quicker.

You don't have to wait that long as your boss himself is the one opening it for you, as if waiting beside it until your entry. He probably was. He crosses his arms on his chest, eyes glaring holes in you. Damn, you'll have to fight with him, again. You promised him you wouldn't be late anymore, he will never trust you again.

Well, it's not like he trusted you much before to begin with.

"Listen, I'm terribly sorry I'm late but... he scoffs.

-As If that was the only problem ! The man tightens his jaw, talking between his teeth. He approaches his head to yours, almost colliding your forehead together; he talks lowly, scared to be heard. You know damn well what's wrong.

Wow, okay. You were not expecting his reaction to be that dramatic. You're just (incredibly) late. It's not new. What's gotten into him ? You squint your eyes, at a loss of words.

-I was just... You start, ready to recite him once again your preposterous apologies.

-I don't give a fuck about you being late, he cracks, get out of here now ! You are not to put a single of your foot in this restaurant anymore ! You're gonna scare my customers ! In the process, a postilion left its house to attack your cheek. You cringe, immediately wiping it with your sleeve, shuddering in disgust.

-What ?

-What, what, he mimics you with a grimace and a weird voice, Get out of here ! He articulates each words slowly as if you were a foreigner, except his tone was harsh and firm. Haven't you seen the news ? If they hear a criminal is working here, I'm screwed.

-A criminal ? But I'm not... I'm, what the hell ? I'm not a criminal Tony.

-Yeah, yeah, and I'm rich ! Get the fuck out of here or at least, do me a favor and let me turn you in to the police." his face changes to disdain, suddenly thoroughly repelled by your being. "Man, you have to be some dirty criminal to have 600 000$ put on your face. What kind of shit have you done, huh ?

Six fucking what ?

-Uh, listen, I think there's some kind of misunderstanding here. I'm no criminal and I'm definitely not worth that much money.

Hell, in all your life, you did not even earn that much money !

-Hey, his tone changed to deviously adopt one sweeter. I don't want any problems okay ? With you, the cops or whoever is fucking wanting you dead. I'm an honest citizen.

What a hypocrite, he was literally yelling at you seconds ago.

You frown, trying to even understand what he's implying. You scratch your cheek, eyeing him from head to toe. He's in a tux, like always. He never do shit here, settling for bossing everyone around while trying to make you believe he's an irreplaceable element in the team.

Judging by his eyes, he is not kidding.

Is he for real firing you ? Just like that ? For some imaginary story he just made up ? Jobless, you will be jobless. He is firing you. A nervous chuckles escapes you, earning you a raise of the brow from Tony. No, oh no no ! You have this job, you did nothing wrong ! Life is already more shitty than it ever been ! Stalker, debts, fucking serial killer wanting your ass and now you lost your main job ? No, that won't do.

You were already planning to leave the bar, how are you supposed to find back two jobs ? One already was an ordeal.

-Honest citizen ? Are you blind ? You were more so than him at the moment. You don't even have an ounce of honesty in your fucking body ! Are you even aware of everything I did for this shitty place ? You can't fire me and you won't because no one else want to be your fucking slave ! Your job is slavery ! I don't want to be some kind of toy you throw away after you've had enough fun with it !

Tony was outraged you could talk to him like that. He was similar to a bourgeois in the eighteenth century, acting shocked after being the most gruesome person alive, putting his hand displayed on his chest and playing innocent.

-Me ? You should be honored to even be working ! You never understand, do you ? You are wanted, that's it ! There's nothing more, nothing less. You are fired. I am not hiring trash.

You hope the worst criminal of this town gets you, right here, for his fucking ugly disgusting restaurant to be destroyed to the very last crumbs. You'll use his body as a human shield while you're at it, after all, what else can he be useful for ?

Your body is boiling like lava. Hitting, jumping, crying, you don't know what you want, need, to do to externalize all of these toxic feelings. Never in your life have you felt more used, humiliated.

You knew he was an asshole, of course. Everyone does, but hell he fired you ! After years of being his toy !

You understand why people in Gotham are crazy. You understand why they suddenly breakdown and fall into crime. Their life, just like yours, was wasted by some self centered prick like him. Some self centered prick who are not even much richer than you, but think they will be when disrespecting you.

Your face isn't even warm, it's seething.

Your life is flashing before you, old friend, family, home, Mike. You won't even be able to pay your rent ! Of course chaos would be loved in a city where trash rules. Why the manifestation are so violent, why insecurity and banditry are prominent ? Because everyone is tired but nobody is listening. Because nobody wants to talk, they think they're at the top of the food chain.

And he won't change his mind. You're fired, that's all. Nothing can alters his decision. It's too late. He probably just created some poor excuses to get you out, you know it. Because you're not a criminal, and no one is giving away 600 000$ for your ass; he's lying. It's too farfetched.

You muster the calmest voice you can get while in such a boiling state, and God knows how hard it is. Wasting more time here is useless, he'll pay but not now, and not by you. You have a new problem: you need to find a job.

-Why don't you kill yourself, Tony ? Right now ? your eyes were empty against his outraged ones. That's why your wife left you, by the way. That's why she left you and took your damn kids. You don't even deserve to live, really, kill yourself, jump, it'll be better for everyone."

You shrug and turn away to never come back. You really hope he disappears forever.

And without anything else to do with your day, you went back home, body functioning by its own. With no diploma and no driving license, how were you supposed to find a job ? You had little experience, mostly having worked in little jobs everywhere. Cashiers, cleaner, babysitting, gardener (you really just cut bushes and mowed the lawn), security guard, fuck, you did it all. Plus, you have a second job and companies hate to arrange their schedules according to yours, in their point of view, you're the desperate one, you should manage your life.

It was safer to wander in Gotham now, the sun was bright in the sky. It was a clear day, really pretty. A shame you couldn't enjoy it.

You open the always creaking door of the building, feeling the freezing temperature inside. Truly a mystery, though a benediction in the hottest summer. A night out and it's like you already don't know this place anymore. You stand in the middle of the hall, staring at each crack in the walls, each suspicious stains, inhaling the disgusting smell emanating from it all.

Yeah, you hate this place.

Sighing and rubbing your tensed shoulders, you approach your mailbox. Opening it, you're pleasantly surprised when no cards is in sight. Maybe he finally got bored ? Your reaction back at the bar probably wasn't what he expected, not satisfying enough so he gave up. You hope so.

What's inside however is a A4 white sheet folded in two. Thinking a neighbor might have wanted to contact you, you open the paper. Yet, on it, the photo of your identity card in huge format, above it, your whole legal name with just below a price, written 'wanted' for treason. A chill run down your spine.

Okay, that is not funny. What the hell ? Did Tony did that ? If yes, how and why ? You pass your hand on your face, harshly rubbing your eyelids to wake you up. This is a joke, everything's a joke.

An echo brings you back on earth when someone goes down the stairs, upon seeing you, your neighbor halts. You offer him a tight lip smile out of pure politeness, which is a an act he does not even try to imitates as he eyes you as if seeing an animal. Do you look that bad ?

Awkwardly, you shift your weight on your feet to ease the tension growing in you. Why is he still looking at you ? The man, even though you were already well far away from him, distances himself and instead of going straight to the door to leave, bothers to make a detour in order to skirt you completely, without daring to approach a millimeter. Does he think you're going to bite, or what ? You two have talked in the past, briefly sure, but still. Fuck, his behaviour does not comfort you one bit.

When the door shut, you're left standing alone once again.

Things are definitely going in a direction you don't appreciate, you may need to hurry up before something really bad happens. Your hand fetches your phone in your back pocket, calling Sean. When he answers, he does not even bother to greet you.

"You okay? You left really early. You're at work ?

-I got fired, long story. I really need your help, again. I'm truly sorry I myself don't quite understand what's going on and... you stop your ranting, breathless and a lump in throat.

-It's okay, really. I don't mind. Tell me everything, how did you get fired ? Why ?

You called him for several reasons. The first being that he's kind of the only friend you have. The second being that Sean's family know people. They're all criminal at different degrees, whether it is gang leader, small thief or hitman. He's the only one actively trying to live an honest life.

-It's complicated and I'm still pissed about it. you tell him seriously, walking in circles in the hall. I have a question and I really need your answer.

-Not stressing at all. He tries to ease the mood, in vain.

-Am I wanted ?

Sean doesn't answer for twenty seconds too much. His silence is starting to worry you, why isn't he saying anything ? Is he confused ? Does he know ? Please, may he not hide something from you. Wanting to distract yourself, you take the stairs to join your flat. Your fingers were creasing the paper sheet in your hand so hard you could have ripped it.

-In like, he finally starts with a strained voice, a personality kind of way ? Relationship ? He chuckles awkwardly while you frown. Well, no offense but uh, I don't think I am attracted to you, I like you but I wouldn't say I want you, you know ? But you shouldn't be insecure, you're a really great person you know, and I mean, you're not ugly so...

-Sean, what the fuck ? You finally cut him when it hit you that he wasn't answering. You were on the floor just below yours, wanting to walk and not quite go home for the moment.

-I'm sorry, was that mean ? That was definitely mean. He clears his throat. Listen, what I meant was...

-No Sean I'm not insecure, everything's fine. I did not mean... Argh ! You're in this kind of environment, you should know !

-What environment ...?

You want to pull at his hair and shake his head back and forth to punish him for being so stupid. Or maybe you were just not being clear, it was surely that. You were incredibly stressed. Traveling between the different floors or the building to stretch your legs.

-Like, criminals, mafia, I don't know. It's... You sigh, your anger dissipating when you realized you were being a little harsh to him. Weird things keep happening to me and I think I'm going crazy for thinking I may have a price on my head.

-Oh, wanted wanted. No because I thought... He coughs. Never mind. I can definitely tell you that. But honestly, odds are low. No offense but you have nothing to give to anyone. You don't have a lot of money. So I don't think anyone wants you.

Damn.

-Why do you think that anyway ? he asks.

Very briefly, you explain to him why Tony had fired you, still using the stairs and floors as a distraction. Of course, you then told him about the paper you found in your mailbox and the weird encounter with your neighbor.

-I'm just really fucking lost, Sean. I'm sorry, you've been nothing but nice to me and I keep snapping at you, I-I don't know what's going on.

-You're freaked out, it's normal. I don't blame you. I'll help you, send me the wanted poster you got. Maybe it's fake."

Of course, you tell him. You'd do pretty much anything to get out of this situation. You want it to be fake, but there's just an accumulation of bad things that tend to make you believe it's true. Looking around you, you notice to be on the last floor of the building. Flattening the paper sheet back, trying to erase all the creases, you lay it on the dirty floor of the hallways. You tear your phone away from your ear for a simple moment to take the picture. You press send.

You wait impatiently for him to say something, anything. But his reaction is clearly not the one you were waiting for:

-Oh fuck.

-What ? you panic, feeling your heart rises in your throat. What do you mean 'oh fuck' ? Sean ?" But the nauseating ringing of the call being cut short echoes in your ear.

He hung up.

You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as hard as you can. Your fingers find your closed lid, pressing on it as if calming an upcoming headache. What the fuck is going on exactly ? Why did he hang up ? Did you say something ? Did he see something ? You can't keep doing that, nobody answered any of your questions since this morning. You are tired.

You give up. You'll go back home, sleep a little. Research a job in the newspaper and hope for things to get better. Sighing, you walk the stairs once again, only this time to really move on.

Has everyone given up on you ? It feels like it, no one seems akin to want to help you. You never did any wrong to anyone. You always hold the door open to people, you give the few you have to homeless people in the streets. You payed what an old woman lacked in money for her groceries. You work everyday of the damn week, with no holidays.

What have you done ?

Sure, you're starting to break down, you told Tony to kill himself, you yelled at Sean. What the hell ? Never would you have done that in your life. What's happening ? It's getting scary out there, yet, no one's here for you to confide in.

You never should have left your hometown, you punished yourself.

The first thing you do once inside your home is falling head first on the couch. Feeling tears filling up your eyes. You don't fight them, letting them slide freely along your cheeks. After all, it's the good part of having a place to yourself, you get to cry alone in the safety of it.

You'll have to give it up, though. Without necessary money, you'll eventually need to move. Probably find a roommate and live in a red light district.

You spent the next hours trying to read classified ads, key word being 'trying' as your watery eyes didn't allow you to see much. And you ended up watching TV, like you always do. You couldn't fathom the idea of being that alone. When did it all go wrong ? Are you a horrible person ?

The news-woman kept talking and talking without stopping, saying the same things as yesterday and probably tomorrow as well. Inflation, criminality, inflation, criminality. Where were you in all of this ? What about the population ? Where were the solutions ? Is this city really stuck in a loop of chaos ?

The screen now displays a cop in a police station, sharing his feeling and impression about the improvement of the city. You don't listen to him, more struck by what's behind him: a poster on a cork board. Yours. It's your face, with the price, 'treason' shit and everything. The exact same poster you had in your mailbox. The situation is that bad, huh ? Your wanted poster is right next to The Joker one. Is there a link ? Are they hoping to find him after finding you ? They're wrong, then.

You wait, impatiently trying to decipher whether the policeman will talk about you or not. But he does not, so you lay back down on the couch. How does wanted people live freely ? You've been researched for a few hours and you're already going crazy with the feeling everyone's watching you.

Do you even know a criminal in this town ? Well, the only one you do know is Sean. You briefly meet them at the bar, as part of your job. Befriending them is not for you though, so you have no useful information to give the Joker. Then what does he want ?

The doorbell rings through the flat, screaming at you to get up and do something with your life. A chill run through your body, breath stopping for a second out of fear to be heard. For a while, you don't move. Who could it be anyway ? Surely bad news. Now that you're wanted, it could be anyone. But the rings echoes again, forcing you to get up. Slowly and as quietly as possible, you slide to the door. Eye staring through the peephole, you're surprised to discover Sean standing anxiously outside.

How did he get your address ?

Opening the different locks on your door, you however keep the small chain closing it. It wasn't much of a protection to be honest, but you needed to lie to yourself a little bit.

"You hung up on me. Is the only thing you say when your eyes meet.

-I know, I'm really sorry. Are you okay ?

-How did you get my address ? It's weird.

He explains to you how your information are given on your work file. You stand inside, judging him from head to toe. He welcomed you at his place, you have to be polite or you'll really look like an opportunistic. But it's hard when you don't know his exact thoughts.

-Why did you hang up ?

-I talked to my uncle, he has a bar in the center of Gotham. Every criminal goes there, he knows everything.

-And ?

-You're safe, it's false. You're not wanted. He... He didn't see your poster. So it was a bad joke. Silence, you don't believe him. I promise. You're not in danger.

Then why is your face plastered in all Gotham ? Is he completely sure about that information ? You hate to act this way but, it's too late for him to tell you that anyway. False or not, the poster of your head is everywhere. People will try to find you. The veracity of it all doesn't matter anymore.

Though you can't shake that uneasy feeling inside you alerting you of his lie. You saw your face on TV, in a police station. It's not nothing !

-How are you so sure ?

-I told you, you have nothing that could interest such a dangerous man as the Joker.

He's right, on the other hand, something's definitely wrong.

-What do we do, now ?

-You could let me in ? I want to help you but we can't talk if I stay outside.

Halfheartedly, you let him in. He thanks you, admires a few seconds his surroundings before plopping down on the couch. You stay standing even after closing the door shut, crossing your arms on your chest and awaiting his arguments.

Should you tell him you saw your face in a police station ? No, you need to know what he's going to tell you. He's lying, you know it now. But why ?

You thought he could be a friend, turn out you can't trust him that much. Or are you losing it ? Policemen are quite dumb here, they are completely capable of believing everything they see and considering they're desperate to catch the Joker; they could have took your poster as a track.

-What's your plan ? you ask.

-It depends on what you want.

Well, you want a lot of different things. Money, happiness, freedom, family, equality, peace. Right now though, one will be enough.

-I need a job, I can't pay my rent this month otherwise.

-That one's easy. He crosses his arms on his chest, sinking into the sofa cushions. Try ask your bank, they'll lend you some.

-No they won't Sean, I'm indebted. Seriously, did he really think life was this easy ? Did he really think you haven't thought of doing just that ?

He sighs and shrug, crossing his legs, he put his feet on the table. Your eyes are enough to tell him to put them back on the ground. He's a little bit too comfortable for your liking.

-It's these immigrants my friend. We lack money because of them.

What ?

-No, it's just poor distribution of resources. With the ongoing inflation and such, it has literally nothing to do with immigration. You frown, confusion lacing your tone, answering him as if asking a question, because what ? That was so out of pocket ? It's stupid to think like that, it's too easy to accuse others. They're as fucked as we are, you know ? Don't say that.

That's what Gotham thinks ? That each one of their problem is caused by others ? Industries, Government, Politics, they're the one causing all of this. How does someone get to this conclusion ? You thought Sean was good, hell, his family was poor. They survived thanks to drugs and banditry. He's bold to think immigrants are the problem: His family literally embezzles money.

-Jeez, calm down.

Well, it's difficult to be calm towards this kind of stupidity. But at least it keeps you in check, you know who he's voting for. Never trust anyone. It's true you don't know him that well, after all.

-You want my help or not ?

It's harder to see him in the same light as before after this, but if he's the only one willing to help, you can't waste this chance.

-Yeah. You sigh, ashamed with yourself. I need people to forget about me.

-Good, meet me at the back of the bar at the end of our shift. He's not waiting for an answer as he gets up to leave.

-Wow. No ?

He stops in his tracks as you block his way.

-What do you mean, 'no' ?

Is he serious ? With everything you risk ? Criminals at the bar know you, hell, some of them see you every night. No, you are not joining him in the dark in a creepy alley late at night when people want you dead. Also, you need to think a little before jumping straight back to work, it's dangerous.

-Because I don't want to die ?" You need to tell him. "Okay, Sean, I may not understand everything but I know you're lying to me. Am I wanted or not ?

He already lost every ounce of respect you had for him. First with the lying, then with the whole immigrants things.

-You don't believe me ? Is he trying to make you feel guilty ?

-I saw my fucking head on the TV. I believe that's enough proof for me. You cut the conversation straight, not wanting him to keep lengthening things uselessly.

Sean doesn't answer, seemingly hesitating. What is he thinking ? He has to respond. He's constantly trying to avoid the subject and it's getting frustrating.

-That means I'm in danger, right ?

-Yes." he finally answers. Thank God, you think, God why, you also think. "But not because of the Joker. He's not responsible for what's happening to you. All the cards and riddles are from him, yes, but someone saw you two talking at the bar and thought they could get to him by killing you.

You entirely stopped trusting him after he mentioned the cards and the riddles. Because never, in all your discussions, have you mentioned receiving these. He knows too much.

You don't bring it up, of course.

-Explain.

Who could have told him about the riddles, if not you ? The one sending them ? Yes, but Sean's terrified of him. Plus, he couldn't talk to him, even if he had the courage to. It's the Joker, from what you understand, you don't approach him easily. He's not the small local criminal. He's something more.

-The Joker's well known. Everyone wants to defy him. And someone saw you.

-Who ? you ask, finally getting some well deserved qualitative answers.

-His name was, uh, Korej I believe.

-Ko...Rej... you repeat, unimpressed, frowning.

Is it you or does it sound vaguely similar to Joker, but with the letters all mixed up ?

-It's his pseudonym." He hastily answers. "But his real name is John, he lives in the richest part of Gotham. He's a mob leader. He fucking despises the Joker, that's why his name is Kojer.

-Korej, you corrected.

-Yeah, it's difficult to remember. It's quite the shitty name.

He really think you're dumb, right ? You clasp your hands together, catching his drifting attention.

-Okay, well, thank you for everything Sean. It was a pleasure, truly. But now I'm gonna ask you to leave.

-You don't believe me ?

No, no you don't. Everything he ever said to you since he first came here was either weird or false. And sometimes weirdly false.

-Please, leave my house.

You'll go to the nearest police station, ask for help. And if nobody helps you, you'll find a way out of here. This city is dead anyway, there's nothing for you anymore. It's too late.

-Don't you want to talk about it ? he asks hurriedly, displaying his open hands in the air as if ready to grab your shoulders.

-If you want us to talk, okay, you yield. But choose somewhere safe, with a lot of people. I am not joining you at the back of the bar at night where everyone could kill me.

You're going crazy. Why are you even accepting this ? It's not a dream, nor a joke, you really are wanted. People want to kill you. There is money on your head. Sean is deep in thoughts before getting the enlightenment he needed, suddenly vigorously saying:

-Shopping center.

-What ?

-Let's meet at the shopping center, in two hours. I have things to prepare, people to call. You have my number, I'll call you. Is it good for you ?

His behaviour is screaming danger, on the other hand, a rendez-vous in a crowded shopping center at 3PM is not as risky as the bar. And if things turn bad, you still have a chance to run away, hidden in the mass. You hope the things he'll prepare will help you, and not worsen everything.

"Okay. You yield, once again.

-Thank you so much, he exclaimed." Why is he thanking you ? "You're a real sweetheart. It will be worth it."

And with these last words, he left.

You won't go. Of course you won't go damn, you don't want to die. He's so suspicious ! Why so much relief ? He's the one supposed to help you, you're not doing anything for him. You absolutely changed your mind. Yesterday, he was that nice man who saved your life, welcoming you home warmly. Today, he's, well, you don't know who he is anymore. You want to understand, discover what's wrong, but at the same time, it's not yours to do.

Fuck, you need to empty your mind. It's tiring, to be suspicious of everyone, to always have to thoroughly think about everything you do. You plop down on your couch, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. There's a cartoon going on. Tom and Jerry, a cat chasing, or at least trying to, a mouse. But the mouse's well smarter than the cat. 

Each time he thinks he'll catch it, the mouse finds a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Because in fact, the cat will never win. He has the illusion of strength because of his height, when the mouse is vicious, malign. 

Also, if the cat caught the mouse, well, the show wouldn't have any interest anymore. 

On the screen, the mouse finds a way to slam the door in the cat face, who's dizzy. To illustrate it, stars and birds are rotating around his head.

You don't know why the mouse does all this, maybe to survive. The small animal found the comfort of a warm house with good cheese and doesn't want to leave. The cat, however, is forced to chase it all day. As his owners force him to. It's his role, as the house guard, to chase rodents. Otherwise, he'll be replaced. 

You have to be really damn fucked for you to start analyzing a stupid cartoon. 

Jeez, it's a cat chasing a mouse, it's silly, it's fun to watch. You don't think, just turn off your brain and have fun. Why can't you do just that ?

Sighing, you change channel, trying to find something worth watching. You end up watching the news, it keeping you grounded. It helps you think you're not the worst case, that there's always worse somewhere. It's deeply selfish, but hey, you can't do much about it. Your life is pretty much ruined at the moment. 

What's today's problem? Well this time, the subject is centered around climate change and its catastrophes.

"Global warming. Today, in Spain, alarming news. The national temperature has increased considerably by 46°F (5°C) since last year. The Spanish are revolted, the world is encountering a record in warmth. Their main claim, she reads her notes, "It's summer's weather when we're in autumn." She briefly gulps her saliva. "Indeed, the local heat reached 86°F (30°C) while 73°F (23°C) at night. IPCC's report is alarming, something has to change. Is the world government going to act ?" She quits her serious tone and changes the subject. "Local news; what's happening in Gotham today ?"

Ah, here you go. You turn up the volume. 

"Earlier in the main avenue today, several store signs were vandalized by a group of masked men, it is thought to be perpetrated by an illegal organization. It's a real raid that happened, terrorizing the passers-by and owners. The identity of the delinquent stays unfounded. We know that the police department is currently working on..."

You mute the TV. Vandalizing stores, now ? They didn't even steal anything, who does that ? On the screen, a replay of surveillance cameras showing masked men running, pushing people and only stopping to draw weird shapes on a few of the stores. It's bad, but not quite as bad as your case. Putting the sound back, you're perfectly timed with the conclusion of the event. 

"Where is Batman ? Has the vigilante abandoned our city ? We hope for his prompt return in time for him to apprehend the Joker." 

Batman, right. You forgot that man was even existing. While some wonder who is hiding behind the mask, you're left questioning yourself on which side is he. If he's with the cops, is he a good or bad man ? Police is part of the problem, certainly. But Batman sometimes helps people, although you never encountered him yourself. But is he really with the police ? 

Who is he working with ? And why is he what he is ?

"Whatever... You rub your eyes."

Why do you even keep thinking about that, it's not your problem anymore. You're leaving. Gotham has nothing left for you. Batman can do whatever he wants, for all you care. He doesn't know about your insignificant existence, why waste it thinking of him ? 

But are you really leaving this place, though ? 

Are you really about to leave your life and flee like a coward ? Yes, is the obvious answer. You could think about it, is the less obvious answer. 

Yes, your life is at stake. On the other hand, Sean could really be useful as you're still in danger as long as you stay in Gotham, he's a considerable ally in this story. And not only Sean but his family as well could help you. 

You know about his aunt. That woman is quite well known. A powerful gang chief. You could pay her to get escorted outside of Gotham. You're already indebted anyway, you have nothing to lose anymore. Moreover, nothing guarantees your safety once outside of Gotham. If the Joker is as feared as shown in the media, changing city won't be enough. Which is why you need to clear the problem directly from the root. 

Okay, you won't lose anything in going, right ? Maybe your life, but it's worth a try. You'll join Sean. Yes, you'll join him. 

When the time arrived, you couldn't shake that uneasy feeling taunting you all while preparing yourself. What if someone chases after you ? What if you get kidnapped ? You won't, of course you won't. Sean will be there when you arrive. He's dissuading enough. He's a big man. 

You found yourself before the gigantic mall before even being able to process it. It was crowded, people entering and getting out every second. For a moment, your eyes search for Sean in the rabble only to find no one. He's probably inside, it's safer. 

Tightly holding the hood stuck on your head, you stare intensely at whoever crosses your path, trying to gain enough courage to finally enter the building. 

It's scary to be wanted, the displeasing impression everyone's looking at you is suffocating. You could get killed, right now. Abducted, even. 

When the automated doors open, you're greeted by the cold air conditioning. It's autumn, why the hell would someone want to freeze to death ? 

Checking your phone, there's still no sign of Sean. He couldn't possibly stand you up, right ? He's the one who insisted for you to come. It wouldn't be logical. He's just late.

You can't really afford to be waiting in your situation, every second matters. You don't know what will happen. And, yeah, you're kind of starting to freak out. You don’t know where your wanted poster ended up. Maybe you’re already dead, and, shit, you're alone in such a vulnerable position. Fuck, why did you come ?

You’re trying to stay rational, thinking of every possibility as to why he’s not here. You nod your head to yourself, trying to ease your nerves. He'll come. You just need a little patience. He said he needed to prepare things beforehand, that's why he's late. He's late because he'll help you. 

You miss the mall, it's been long since you last came here, too preoccupied with your two jobs. You used to like watching people but quickly stopped. First, you once or twice made an awkwardly long eye contact with a man who then wanted to beat you up for provoking him, "like a pussy". Then, the second reason is that people are just... Mean. You'd look at a pretty woman only for her to spit on the ground. In the street is already disgusting enough, but the mall ! You'll look at a man hugging a woman, just to realize that they both don't know each other and that he's drunk out of his mind. 

Maybe you do need to get out of here, actually. 

Your phone still hasn't buzzed, you need to do something with your body or you’ll go crazy. It’s obvious staring daggers at your device every second won’t help. He's not here yet, you need to accept it and wait. You'll walk a little to not get noticed, your tensed and motionless body language is screaming suspicious and people are starting to side eye you. 

It’s only natural of your legs to start bringing you to the places you used to go to, only to realize that one of your favorite stores closed permanently. Of course, with the crisis. It’s not surprising. 

"Fucking morons..." Mutters a man to your left. Upon looking in his direction, you meet the owner of the voice standing on a stepladder, trying to energetically scrub with a sponge his store's sign. Key word being 'trying' as it's not successful. 

Right, earlier's vandals. 

He's cursing to himself, scrubbing progressively more aggressively the almost intact big black 'O' tagged on the sign mocking him. 

"Can I know who did that? asked your curiosity. 

-Fucking assholes, he answers without even looking your way, that's who did that. 

-What do they looked like ?

-No idea, he grumbles. They all had that stupid mask on. All white with some blue and red. No idea what that was supposed to be. Ask the other owners if you're so interested, but you're late. Journalists already left. 

Oh, right. He thinks you’re a journalist. 

-Thank you, have a nice day sir.

-Yeah yeah…”

You heard several stores were vandalized, where are the others ? Letting your legs wander, you get your answer a few meters/feet away. A sign is hanging by an electric thread. 

It’s a shoe store, but its signboard was now displaying a big black 'O'. You lift a brow, confused about its meaning. Usually, tag either insults or convey a message. Anyhow, there's a sense. Now though, you can't quite pinpoint it. O, what starts with an O. Optimism, oppression, obedient omelette ? It can be anything. Maybe it's not a letter, but a signature? 

Two stores away (you see it out of the corner of your eye) another of these is vandalized, this time, a bold 'B' was written. What word could this correspond to? B for Batman ? It's not a word, mostly a name. Baby, maybe. Bomb, bag, anything. Hell, it could even be badminton for all you know. 

Next letter is directly after the previous one, a 'S' hiding the dress logo the sign was exhibiting prior. The paint is dripping a little and one or two drops can be seen on the ground. 

"Those damn scum." a man grumbles, who you think might be the owner of the poor store. He crosses his arms on his chest, looking up disapprovingly. 

You ignore him, now thrilled by all of this. You want to discover all the tags. It's not like you have much better to do anyway. Sean still hasn't answered you. You know what to do to wait: find words for each letter. S makes you think of sabotage, skull and soup. 

You see the next letter from afar, this time, an "E" welcomes you. Though, this one was partially erased. You guess the owner found the right product. It's now possible to read the sign and enjoy the sweet sight of what seems to be a sex shop sign. Is it even legal ? There's kids coming into this mall. Anyway, a lot of words start with E; Electric, Ebola, education, eagle. 

You don't find the next letter right away, needing to walk a little to find it. But when you do, you're weirdly excited. It's just a bunch of words on some signboards, yet, it's fun. Like an orienteering race. But mostly because you don't get to have much fun today, and this being out of your quotidian, it's easy to be ecstatic.  

Further away, it's not one but two letters that greets you; two "S", entwined like snakes. Shit, is it a nazi kind of tag ? It looks like the police's symbol there was back then. If that’s the case, you don’t find this as exciting as before. Not a good thing to write. There's already so much chaos here, you pray nazis are not going to be added to it. You think of the word 'Swiss' for this letter.

Next letter is an 'I'. Investigation, investment, ice. A woman bypasses you, hitting your shoulder with her. You squeal out of surprise, the woman doesn't even notice you. What a shitty town. You check your phone again, making sure Sean didn't try to contact you. No reply. 

Walking ahead, the next vandalized store needs you to turn to the left to be seen, it's an 'O', again. But you don’t have the time to think of words that you already see the next letter. It’s a ‘N’. Night, Nemo (as in the movie) and nuisance. You already found words starting with ‘O’ anyway. It seems to be the last one as you walk and turn but no others appear. Disappointment lingers, sad it ended so soon. 

What is it, does it form a word at the end ? Like street art ? Maybe, a shame you already forgot all the previous letters. It was fun, though. You'd do it again, it's entertaining. Like a track game where you follow a path. Vibrations are bringing you back to reality, rushing to take it, you rotate to leave the place in order to find somewhere calmer. In your haste, you bump straight into someone. You freeze for a second, phone in hand.

They’re wearing a mask, a clown mask on their black hair. And a really ugly one. It’s shiny, like plastic and it surely is. Their eyes are the only thing you see through the holes. Whoever that is is staring right into your damn soul. Their eyes are empty, so empty you might think they’re on some kind of drug. The big red nose in the middle of their face is mocking you, laughing at you to be scared of something so ridiculous. Two small tufts of green hair are standing on each side of his head, the false bloody teeth drawn on the mask is the final touch that tells you to leave.

“Sorry.” you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

Your hands are holding your phone so tightly that fear strikes you that you could actually break the screen. The clown does not move when you walk past him, and you realize right then and there that they were well too close to you for it to be normal. You hate clowns, you hate them so much. All of this because of that stupid Joker. That person probably wasn’t even related to him, maybe he was one of the vandals. You don’t know, you don’t want to.

When you pick up Sean’s call, he apologizes for being late and plans an area for you to meet. You’re before the sex shope tagged by the “E” by the time Sean joins you. You’re not as convinced as before to destroy the problem from its root after the clown encounter. You’re not a hero, not a criminal. You’re nothing, you don’t have anything to prove to anybody. You should leave.

“You okay ? You look like you saw a ghost ? He laughs, but he’s not your friend so you don’t.

-So ? Got out much more coldly than you intended it to be.

-Jeez, you’re impatient. I’ll help you, I told you I would, right ?

You did, doesn’t mean you really will. You cross your arms on your chest, approaching him for him to hear you more clearly.

-Do you have any information ? Ways to get me out of here ? To resolve this ? Anything ?

He sighs, stepping back as if you’re the plague and looking elsewhere in the crowd. He seems conflicted, forehead creased by his worry.

-I can’t tell you now, walls have ears.

-Then why the fuck would you tell me to join you here ? If you’re so scared to be spied on, we could have continued this discussion at my place.

Your tension is building up. It’s fucking frustrating to talk with him. He starts teasing you with interesting information, then, he retreats and acts as if nothing happened and you’re just impatient. He told you to come here, he told you he’d help you.

-At least answer my questions, you plead, I don’t even know who… Who is the Joker ? Who is he exactly ? He physically tensed, his shoulders literally hunched forwards. What the hell ?

-Well, uh, it's complicated.

Damn, even that couldn’t be answered. Why are you still here ?

-What do you mean it's complicated ? Is he a terrorist ? A thief ? A gang leader ? A serial killer ? It's a simple question.

-He's a little bit of everything, truly.

Why does he always seem so nervous talking about him ?

-Sean for the love of God, he’s not here ! people are starting to look in your direction, but you couldn’t care less. You can calm down, he won’t kill you ! You gotta breathe a little, man. Aren’t you the one who literally told me he wasn’t after me ? It’s not the first time you’re lying to me and I’m starting to lose it. Why am I here ? Tell me, why are we fucking here if you’re not gonna help me ! Who is this man and what does he want ? Why does he want to kill me ! It’s…” a gunshot whistles in the air, cutting you in your sentence straight away, screams erupting from all sides.

Your body acts before you can think, throwing yourself on the ground. It’s hard to understand what’s going on, but in a way, you don’t try to. You get up quickly and lose yourself in the running and yelling crowd. Your paranoia is not helping, was this gunshot aimed at you ? Sean is somewhere in the mall, but it’s too late. You gave him a chance, he wasted it.

Another gunshot echoes, followed closely by the sound of a glass breaking. Your senses are overwhelmed; names, insults, orders are being yelled. Is the Joker here ? You need to get out of here, now. Bodies are pushed against yours, your clothes are being tugged on. But when you were about to reach the exit, someone harshly grabs you out of the crowd, pulling you aside. It’s panic in your head, survival instinct kicking in. You yank your arm out of the person’s hold but freeze upon seeing Sean threaten you with a gun.

“Sean, you start with a shaky voice, what the fuck ? his eyes are cold, you don’t recognize him. He looks at you as if you're nothing, as if you're no one.

-He’s here, he states, looking paranoidly to the sides. He’s… He’s going to kill me if I don’t bring you to him.

-Bring me to who, Sean ? But you fear you might already know.

-The Joker.

Of course he’d betray you. Who are you kidding ? You knew, you knew he would trap you. Your eyes can’t leave the sight of the gun barrel, following each of its movements. He’s shaking, you realize. Is he scared, hesitating ? Or motivated by a hatred so pure he can’t even control his own feelings ?

-Sean, you try nonetheless, he’ll kill you either way okay ? He’s a sadist, we can… you gulp, throat suddenly burning dry. We can leave together, we’ll leave the city and…

-You don’t understand, do you ? He’ll track you, he’ll track us down. And then, he’ll slaughter us like pigs. You hear me ? He’ll slaught…

-I get it ! I get it ! you scream, shutting your eyes in order to erase those images from your head.

How can you even change his mind ? You doubt he’d fold with some speech about your friendship. It’s not like you two were that close to be honest. Sure, you liked him but that changed since the beginning of the Joker catastrophe.

-He promised me money, he explained himself. As if you’d forgive him after hearing his justification. A lot of money. You can’t understand what it’s like to… when you see him lower his weapon, you interrupt him, drived by your anger.

-How can you be so stupid ? He was, he truly was an idiot for believing the Joker. You haven’t known that beast for long, but each time someone defined him, it was always along the lines of wicked, treacherous, vicious and ruthless. So yeah, he was stupid. Was your life worth something as insignificant as money ? Has he ever liked you ?

-Shut up ! I’m done living like a fucking tramp !

Tramp is a big word coming from him, daddy pays him everything ! You’re tired of his tantrums, he is a grown man, ten or fifteen years older than you and he’s acting like a child. Suffering is your quotidian as well, but you would’ve never betrayed him. In fact, that is your problem. You’re not a scumbag like him, that’s why you can’t stand him. You have no value similar to his, if he even has some. By what right does he think he can use you to get, what, a few dirty money ?

If you're going to die, at least you'll die telling him every resentment you had towards him.

-You think I am happy ?! Your life’s better than mine ! Fuck you Sean, you’re an asshole ! You’re a fucking asshole ! You’re the one that should die !

-Shut the fuck up you whore !

A burning pain sliced through you along a sharp sound, legs losing all strength and making you fall on the ground. Your ears are ringing and your breath is cut for a few long seconds. What happened ? Is the first question popping in your head, but the atrocious pain coursing through your leg answers you. Your hand touches your hurting limb, but retreats it instantly at the pain. So you look down.

Blood, there’s blood everywhere.

It’s yours. It’s… It’s your damn blood, you’re bleeding. You have a hole in your leg and it’s gushing out blood. He shot you. Fuck, oh God, oh God, you’re bleeding. You’re fucking bleeding and it hurt like hell. It hurt so damn bad, why, why did he do that ? Your eyes are stinging and soon, tears fall down your cheeks. Are you going to die ? Here ? With nothing accomplished ? Alone ? Shot by the only man you thought was your friend ?

-I believe alive was written on the contract.

You recognize that voice, you hear it in your nightmares.

-Joker ! I… She tried to run away, I had to immobilize her !

It’s weird, your body is exhausted, yet, the pain is keeping you well awake. Your head is heavy when you lay it on the dirty ground of the mall. Eyes trailing slowly to the two men talking. Finally, he’s here before you. He’s shown himself. Even if it’s only the second time you see him, you talked and heard about him so much these past hours it feels like you’ve been with him for months. And maybe you were, in a way. Sean walks past you, not glancing towards your drained body on the ground. He’s scared of him. He plays the big man with you, but he’s a little bitch.

How is Sean, a man built like a fridge, so terrified of someone so ridiculous as the Joker ?

Who is he ?

The pain in your leg makes it feel numb and at the same as alive as it never been. The Joker sighs exaggeratedly, he tilts his head to the side to look at you. Shivers shake your whole body. Is that it ? This is the man who’ll abduct you ? You’d rather get killed instantly.

-And right on Valentine’s day...” mumbles the Joker.

It’s not, it’s autumn. Valentine’s day is in February, in winter. From your position, police sirens are heard and red and blue lights are flashing, reflecting on the windows. The Joker takes out a gun out of his long purple jacket and aims it towards Sean.

“Please ! He yells. I-I did what you wanted ! She’s here, please don’t kill me ! I’m a hitman, I’ll work for you !

Is he, now ? He's barely a barman.

-Do I look like I'm searching for employees ? He asks, opening his arms and bending his hands for his palms to face the ceiling before looking around him for confirmation. Because I’m not.”

You're torn between relief and horror at the sight of Sean falling to the ground after another gunshot, bathing in his own blood. He did betray you, he brought you here, he brought this upon you, upon himself. But he’s dead. You wished him to, but now that he is you’re horrified.

It’s then that you realize that The Joker is surrounded by his masked goons. Probably the one who vandalized the store, now that you think about it. You walked right into his trap.

“Well ? What are you waiting for ? he asks almost comically. Bring the package to the car !

When several men surrounds you, you're left yelling and fighting to get out of their holds, in vain, of course. The blood gushing out of your hurting limb isn't helping much, anyway. You feel your strength slowly evaporate from you.

Shotguns echoes, but your ringing ears prevent you to precisely locate it. Soon, they throw you in the back of a car and close the door, leaving you in the dark.

Gotham killed you.  

[a-casual-kpopfan]

Reminisce and Regrets

A/N: “Italic” dialogue indicates it being spoken in English. “Normal” dialogue indicates it being spoken in Korean.

Shoutout to @nojisunnomercy for the commission piece, really make me and Ghost to write and go through to make a sequel to Consquences and Regrets.

~~~~~

I made you my everything. Put my life in your hands and you held the strings.

She really was your everything. Don't know who I am anymore.

Let me down every time and I hit the floor.

Even with what she did, you still forgave her back then, entrusting her not to hurt you again.

And you gave me nothing at all. Only empty excuses to try and break the fall.

Despite your forgiveness, she ended up betraying you again. So, I did what I never could to do.

And I cut myself loose from you.

If she didn’t do it… Would you still be with her?

.

.

.

“Hey!”

.

.

.

“Oi, you bastard!”

With a yell, you snap back to reality, the image of her gone from your mind, replaced by your grumpy friend, frowning at you. “The food is going to be cold if you keep staring into nothing like that.”

At that time, you put your earbuds down, and noises start to flood back into your ears. The clinking of utensils hitting each other’s and the plate. Chattering from nearby tables. Sounds of people walking and cars driving on the road.

No longer are you drowned in your own thoughts. You’re back to reality: a small café near your workplace, where you and your friend decide to have lunch.

“You can just start first you know.” You shrug. “Didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Bro, I already finished half of mine, and you haven’t even touched yours.”

“Oh.” Looking down onto the table, you barely touch your food while your friend is almost done with his.

“You know, it’s not like we are strangers or anything.” Your friend lets out a sigh. “I’m worried about you dude. You haven’t been like this since the first week that you arrived here, and that was years ago!”

“Yeah, well, you know I got cheated on by my ex, what else do you need to know?” You chuckle lightly, starting to dig into your already cold meal.

“The details! The beauty is in the details, my guy.” Your friend responds with a chuckle, which morphs into a worried smile “Don’t you think let it out is better than keeping it all in?”

“Well... I’ll think about the offer, but thanks anyways.” You smile at your friend. A bit mischievous, but a good person at heart. You know he only has your best intention in his mind, and you are grateful for it. But you are not about to ruin her image, it’s the least you can do for her, even if she betrayed you twice.

“Anyways, I got us tickets!” Your friend decides to change the subject, tapping something on his phone before showing you the image of 2 tickets on his hand. “For what, exactly?” You think you know what those tickets are for, but you pray to God that you are wrong, just this one time.

“For the Loona concert!”

Fuck.

You swear in your head. It’s bad enough that the news of their tour, and images of them circulating in twitter inadvertently got you thinking about her again, after all those years. Now attending a concert and seeing them live?

God knows what could happen.

“How did you even get your hands on this?” You ask purely out of curiosity as to how your friend managed to acquire the tickets. You know how fast these tickets sell out. “Heh, what can I say? Lady luck was on my side that day~” Your friend looks incredibly proud of himself.

“So… Who are you going with?” You ask, a futile attempt in hopes that you might not have to go. “You, of course.” You groan at his answer.

“Come on, I know you want to attend it. You’re Korean, for god’s sake!” Your friend beams at you. “Most people don’t even recognize me as a Korean.” You counter. “That’s because you grow your fucking hair and beard out. They look good on you by the way, paired with those glasses-” He does the typical chef’s kiss motion “but just saying.” Your friend nearly explodes, but in a playful way, as he points out your distinct changes.

“I get your point, and?”

“And it might be a nice chance to use your mother tongue again. You’ve been using English ever since you got here, and God bless you for being fluent in English because none of us know a lick of Korean, I just feel like it’s unfair for you.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” You smile lightly. Amongst the various coworkers you worked with when you first arrived, only this guy stuck with you through thick and thin, inadvertently ending up as your best friend… Still, he can’t replace her, but he is good to you, and you gratefully accept that. What you don’t want to accept is the tickets.

“But-”

“Nah ah, no buts! I already paid for the damn tickets; I can use it however I want. And I want you to go with me on that day, and that is final!” Your friend stares at you with his fake aggressiveness that you are oh so familiar already. And you know that he won’t budge at this point, no matter how much you say to him.

“Alright, you win. I’ll go with you.” You let out a light chuckle, to which your friend also smiles at you. “There we go, couldn’t you be like this earlier?”

“Shut up.” Both of you laugh at the banter while enjoying the rest of the lunch. You can’t help but feel dreaded at the notion of seeing her, or the girls again, but they might not recognize you with how much you’ve changed. Ignoring the dull pain in your heart at the thought of them not recognizing you, you still think that it would be for the best. You are not the same as you were back then.

Not anymore.

-----

“Yah! Yeojin! Sit back down, why are you jumping around??”

“I’m so hungry… Do we have anything to eat? Hey, are you listening to me?”

To say that the bus is chaotic would be an understatement.

In typical Loona fashion, the girls are completely turning the bus upside down with their shenanigans, like they have an endless reserve of energy. Well, most of them, anyways.

Sitting at the far back of the bus, Hyeju watches them silently. Per usual, Hyeju isn’t one to participate in the chaos as much as the others, but there’s another reason for this.

See, after the incident with you, it took Hyeju a long time to earn back the trust of the girls again, some longer than others. Thankfully the members gave Hyeju another chance, but things were never quite the same.

Like how cracks can still be seen on a fixed object.

Her mistake has left scars. Some deeper than others.

She then takes a glance at Heejin who is also not partaking in the chaos, but just looking outside the window with a blank stare. Heejin never really did forgive Hyeju. She only held in the anger inside of her for the sake of the others, but with observant eyes, it wasn’t hard to recognize Heejin was avoiding Hyeju.

And honestly, despite how hurtful it is, Hyeju can’t bring herself to be angry at Heejin for that.

You and Heejin were basically glued together.

She introduced you to the girls.

She was the one that was with you through thick and thin.

But in the end, she had to give up on him for Hyeju’s sake.

What did Hyeju do?

She betrayed you.

The reason why you decided to move abroad while cutting off any form of contact.

It’s been 3 years since then.

Hyeju sighs to herself, looking outside to the moving scenery. Three grueling years without you by her side, they say that you never know what you truly had until you lost it, Hyeju understands it fully, now that she lost you.

She never quite realized just how involved you were in her life, until you left. The apartment was never quite the same without you, without your warm touch, it lost its homely atmosphere, now it’s just a cold, empty room. Meals weren’t the same without your soft voice, humming and listening to each of her daily rants, the bed felt cold without your hug, pulling her in and reassuring her that you were always with her.

Why did she do it? Why did she betray you? Even after 3 years, that question still lingers in her mind, as a reminder of her own mistake. She simply took you for granted. After the first time, you were gracious enough to give her your full trust again. And she… She thought that she could get away with it as well. How could some instant gratification be compared with stability?

She was wrong, so, so wrong. She was wrong to even entertain that thought, to even meet up with that man, to be seduced by his mere words.

And that made her lose the dearest thing that she had.

You.

-----

Well, here you are.

Standing in front of the venue, instead of all the excitement that you should be feeling, all you can feel is impending doom or anxiety in short. You start to question yourself repeatedly, “is this a mistake? Should you turn back? Why are you even here-”

“Dude! Less thinking and more walking!” You feel a hand striking your back, nearly making you stumble onto the ground. You glare to the side at your friend, who is smirking at you.

“You’ll thank me for this one day, now let’s get going.” He pulls you to stand straight again, before pushing you into the venue.

“Here goes nothing, I guess.” You mumble, mostly to yourself to brace for what is to come. “See? You’re already speaking in Korean! I know you’re excited, you don’t have to hide it from me~”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You let out a sigh, starting to walk into the venue on your own without your friend pushing you. “Let’s head in, or else we might be stuck outside for a while.”

“I heard you, let’s go!” Your friend’s energy seems to remind you of a certain bunny, causing you to chuckle slightly.

The walk inside the venue is generally uneventful, if you ignore all the crazed fans with the merch gossiping among each other. As you do your best to ignore them, because everywhere you look, you see their damn faces.

On the shirts, printed on handheld fans, posters.

God, what in the actual fuck.

You thought you could handle this, seeing them again, but just the sight of them, of her, on the poster, already makes you feel sick to your stomach. Three years, three long years, and you are still haunted by the memories of that day. Three years without seeing them, three years of you, changing yourself in order to not be weak anymore. Yet just a picture of them, and the wall you’ve built so meticulously has already started to crumble slightly.

“Dude, you alright?” Your friend doesn’t miss the faint pained expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, my stomach is just a bit hurt, that’s all.” You harden your resolve once again before reassuring your friend with a slight smile. Your friend says nothing of the matter, but you feel his gaze on you as you both move to your seats on the inside of the stadium.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the fans and pictures, your eyes dart around other places, trying to find a safe haven where you don’t have to look at all the fans and pictures of the girls. You eventually find it, but you don’t know if it’s really a ‘safe haven’.

You spot a figure looking like a man, his black hoodies and jeans a stark contrast from the crowd. Given that you are also dark colored clothes, you can’t say anything about the man. But there’s just something about him, something that you can’t put your hands on, for some reason, he feels familiar.

“Dude, why are you staring at a stranger?” Your friend elbows you in the chest.

“… Nothing.” You disregard your uneasiness to get back to the matter on hand. “I just accidentally look at that direction.” Trying to play it off and walk off with your friend to find your place to watch.

“Pfft, yeah right.” Without looking, you can feel his eyes roll at you. “Let’s head inside before someone call the police on you for being a creep.” Silently, you take one last glance at the man in hoodie, before joining your friend at the seating area of the venue.

“This… Feels weird.” Mumbling to yourself, you look around the place. Now that you think about it, you rarely ever watch their performances from the audience’s point of view. Being a close friend to a certain bunny, and later, boyfriend of a certain wolf, you spend most of the time backstage with them, watching them either on the TV in the waiting room, or directly behind the backstage.

You never had the chance to watch from the audience due to your relationship with the girls, you were important to the members. A big brother, a drinking buddy, a listener, a friend, best friend even, and then boyfriend to her. They couldn’t let you stay in the audience during their performances.

Somewhere deep inside of you, you missed those days, days you spent with the girls, taking care of them and having fun with them, to be with the one you love, no, loved.

You find it hard for yourself to forgive her, you already did that once, after all. All the love and energy spent on her, to be reciprocated with betrayal. Not only once but twice. Who does that kind of thing? Who betrayed the trust of someone who loved them very dearly that easily?

The more these thoughts resurface, the more your heart ached. Not for her, but for the relationship that you lost because of her. How could you stay with the girls, now that your relationship with one of them is strained? They know her longer than they know you, so whose side are they going to take?

While you fall back into your deepest thoughts, you fail to recognize the venue’s light dimming, as screams begin to echo out from the fans. Only when you hear their voices do you awaken from your thoughts, to be greeted by the girls standing on stage, already performing the first song with the fans chanting along with the music.

You turn to the side, to also see your friend excitedly chanting along with his broken Korean, much to your amusement.

As for you, you were never one to like the crowd, so you just stayed seated, watching the performance with mixed feelings in your heart.

Your eyes soon glued onto her.

Your ex, the one you loved so much, but also the one who broke your heart into pieces. She seems to be doing ok, you thought. Her stage presence is much better than before, and so is her confidence. Despite projecting a cold image, she has always been somewhat timid behind the curtains. It took you many hours of encouragement and pep talks to give her the confidence boost she needed, and to see her like this… You can’t help but be proud, just a little bit.

Before your mind can start treading into forbidden memories, you turn to another person.

Your “Bunny”.

Well, you don’t think you have any right to call her that anymore, after all, it was you who cut her off when you moved overseas. Admittedly, it wasn’t right for you to just cut her off like that, when you and she have shared so many things together, the both of you going way, way back. But in your emotional state, you couldn’t bear to see or hear anything that would be remotely related to your ex. And so, in a fit of rage and depression, you changed your number, cutting off every relationship that you had in Korea, except for your family.

As the concert goes on, you barely pay any attention to the performance itself, too busy drowning yourself in your thoughts as you drift back and forth, in and out of your head, between happiness from seeing the girls again, to sadness that you’re seeing your ex again, to depression and guilt of you cutting them off from your life.

Before you even know it, the concert is nearing its end, with the girls doing the encore song while having fun on stage.

I don't need nobody to move my body

All me with no strings attached

I don't wanna be somebody who

Lets somebody hold me if they hold me back

I just wanna dance, dance

Dance on my own (dance on my own)

You can’t tell if there is a hidden message to this song or something, but you feel like this song just hit a little bit too close to home. Maybe that’s why you’ve been looping it a lot these days. And it’s hitting you hard right now, seeing that your ex is one of the people singing it on stage as well.

How ironic is that?

When she was the one that betrayed you and now singing that she can be by herself? You tighten your fists as tears start to gather in your eyes as rage and sadness begin to cloud your mind. How can she sing that so-

No.

Before you can go any further, you mentally restrain yourself. As expected, you’re losing control over your emotions because you can see the worried look on your friend’s face as he glances over to check up on you.

“Bathroom.” You manage to utter one word before standing up and leaving your seat, and your friend behind.

“Fuck.” You swear to yourself once you enter the bathroom. Making your way to the sink, you splash your face with water in some false hope of cooling down your mind. “Get it together.” You look at your drenched face in the mirror.

 “It’s almost done, just a little bit more.” You talk to yourself in the mirror, like some madman who’s off his meds. Luckily, no one is here to judge your weird behaviour.

After a few more minutes of talking to yourself, you gather enough courage to return to your seat. But right as you leave the bathroom, you see the man in black hoodie from earlier walking by.

Now, as any normal person would do, you are going to return to the seating area to calm down an undoubtedly very worried friend. But once again, your gut feeling is telling you that this guy is bad news. And your gut feelings are usually never wrong. After all, it was your gut feeling that made you suspicious of cheating in the first place.

So, you decide to trail behind the guy, lighten your steps in order not to make any sounds. The man just keeps walking forward, his steps heavy and hurried. He’s walking with a purpose, there was a destination in mind, and you can’t help but keep following him, all the way to the backstage area.

Seeing how the guy knows how to avoid security, your suspicions are confirmed by now, but for safe measure, you kept your distance from him.

Then you heard noises, more specifically, chatter and laughter. You can recognize their voices everywhere, even if you aren’t up to date with them anymore.

Oh no.

The man starts to pick up the pace after he hears the voice heading towards a fork in the hallway, prompting you to do the same. You see him pull something out from his hoodie’s pocket. You can’t see what it is, but it’s shiny, you start sprinting after the man now.

You’re catching up to him. But he’s also getting very close to the girls, their laughter can be heard closer and closer.

Faster.

Now’s the time that you put all the efforts you made in the gym to good use. With a short burst, you catch up to the guy, and promptly crash your shoulder into him, pushing him into the wall in front of the girls just as they arrive, earning screams and yells from them. But you can’t hear them.

With the collision, the both of you fall onto the ground, the object the man was carrying seconds before fall off his hand, landing on the ground. A pocketknife.

The man glares back at you, his hood already fallen, yelling “You motherfucker!” in fluent Korean, stunning you for a brief second.

Because, you know this man.

He was the one that Hyeju cheated on with.

That brief stun period is enough for him to land a kick in your face, before scrambling for the knife. Thankfully, the pain is enough to wake your senses up, leading you to get on your knees and lunge for the man, using your entire body weight to land onto him, before your arms quickly find their way around his neck, tightening the chokehold you have on him while he struggles to break free by bashing his elbows against your ribs.

You grind your teeth and tighten the hold even further, ensuring the man has no way to escape, before you feel him going limp on your arms, and you being pulled out someone, presumably the security.

Looking at the unconscious guy, you smile faintly to yourself, maybe those Jiujitsu classes weren’t that useless after all.

Everything immediately afterwards is somewhat of a blur to you, not to mention the adrenaline subsiding and the pain kicking in. The fact that you encounter not one, but the two people responsible for betraying your trust back then and in such a situation as well.

From what you can deduce, Hyeju probably cut contact with him out of guilt, and him being constantly denied contact probably drove him crazy. Looking at the unconscious guy again, you can’t help but let out a sigh. What can you say?

Karma’s a bitch.

Although you feel a tinge of relief learning that small piece of knowledge, you still don’t particularly feel like you are in the mood to answer some questions from the security.

But you are cautious enough not to stand near the girls though, in case they recognize you because they sure did recognize the other man, as evident by Hyeju’s trembling. As happy as you are to see the girls up close again, you don’t think your heart can take any more than this, so, you take what you can get.

After a brief question, you start to head back to the seating area, your head thinking of what excuse to use for your worried friend. Before you leave though, you hear the voice of the girls calling for you, and as much as you want to just ignore them, that would be too rude of you.

“Thank you so much for helping us, mister.” Haseul speaks up for the girls.

“It’s nothing, I just did what anyone else would do.” You smile lightly.

“But your glasses were broken because of it, was it not?” Indeed, your glasses were broken, but you don’t really need glasses to function day to day and you just want to get out of here as fast as possible.

“I can still see fine, so don’t worry Miss. Instead, I think you should focus on comforting your friend over there, she seems quite shaken, no?” Your attempt to divert the conversation is a success as all the girls turn to the shaken Hyeju, talking amongst themselves before heading back, not forgetting to give you a small bow when they leave.

Except for one person though.

“Oppa.”

Shit, of course it’s Heejin. That girl has always been observant when it comes to you. But that isn’t enough for you to give up.

Keeping up with the façade of not knowing Korean, you pretend to not hear it and just keep walking. You can hear her calling you “oppa” repeatedly again. But you aren’t going to stop. The moment you cut her off, you stop being best friends. Not anymore.

“Pooh, is that you?”

Pooh.

Such a stupid name.

Yet, you stop dead in your track at the mention of that name, no one has ever called you by that in years. It was from way back in their childhood. Something your parents lovingly call you due to your chubby figure back then. Something that Heejin also called you, joyful of having another ‘victim’ being called by a nickname, after gaining the ‘Bunny’ nickname from her parents. At least, all the way up to when you started dating Hyeju, at least.

That name should have stayed buried in the past. Why did she- No, the question here should be, how did she figure you out?

“You look surprised.” Standing frozen in the spot, you can see Heejin walks into your view from behind, smiling lightly. “Did you really think that, by growing out your hair and beard, and bulking up, that I would not recognize you?”

Her eyes look up to yours, and you can see the anger, the disappointment in her eyes, but also relief and genuine joy upon seeing her best friend again. “Was our friendship really that shallow to you, Pooh?”

Guiltily, you can’t bring yourself to face her directly, your eyes diverting from her face. You’d rather look at anything else than to see her right now, if not you feel like the wall that you’ve spent years building might not collapse on the spot.

“You don’t have to say anything.” She whispers. You can see streams of tears rolling down her cheek. Your heart hurt more at the notion of Heejin crying, especially because of you. “I’m glad that I got to see you again, even if it was for a moment.” You feel her hand resting on your cheek, gently caressing it with her thumb going along the grooves of your beard.

“My goodness, you’ve really changed, haven’t you.” A small chuckle. “Goodbye, Pooh.” As you feel your palm leaving your face, you can hear the crumbling of the walls surrounding your heart. Years of steeling yourself, but all it took was just a moment with Heejin to bring it down.

“Wait.” You utter, your hand grasping onto hers to prevent her from leaving. Before she can react, you pull her into a tight hug, whispering to her. “I’m sorry, Bunny. I’m sorry.”

Taken back by your action, Heejin seems to be silent.

One second passed by.

Two seconds.

And then you can feel her body trembling as her arms try their best to hug around your huge frame, her face buried into your shoulder as she lets out choked sobs.

“How could you leave us like that? Leave me like that?” She cries into your shoulder. “Was our time together not even worth it for you?” Her grip on you turns tighter. “How could you…”

Her words are like a knife piercing your heart, you know you’ve done something wrong to her and the others. So, all you can do is try to compensate for it. There’s no turning back now, Heejin would not let you leave if you don’t leave her your phone number, and the girls are going to know about this sooner or later.

The girls… Are you ready to face Hyeju again? After all this time?

You forcefully stop yourself from thinking further. That can be dealt with later. You have a crying bunny to appease.

-----

As expected, after a good 10 minutes of crying, Heejin gave you 2 options: either give her your number, or you follow her back to her hotel. Without any real options, you reluctantly give her your number, only then was she satisfied enough to let you leave.

After that, you had to deal with the situation that was your worried friend. Thankfully, he bought your excuse of being stuck in toilet due to constipation and the both of you part way after chatting for a bit.

Which brings you to right now: lying flat on your couch, physically and emotionally exhausted from the chaotic evening. You just want to take a long, long sleep now.

Before you can even drift off to sleep, your phone begins to ring nonstop. Looks like the night isn’t over yet.

“Hello?” You pick up the phone.

“You still awake?” You can hear Heejin’s voice from the other side.

“Yeah, thanks to a certain someone calling me.”

“Hehe~ Anyways, I’m only in the city for tomorrow before heading to our next destination, can we meet?” Despite performing for around 4 hours straight, you can still feel the energy in her voice. Unconsciously, you start to smile as well, infectious of her energy. Just like old times.

“Lucky for you, I have tomorrow off, so let me sleep for now and maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” Despite losing contact for so long, the two of you still converse like nothing ever happened. Like you were never apart. Joking and teasing like the old times.

“You better show up, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Go get some sleep Bunny, it’s been a long evening.”

“Mhmm, see you tomorrow, Pooh.” Again, with the nickname. You feel like you’ve already outgrown it. Even your parents don’t call you that name anymore, but Heejin keeps on using it, and you don’t know why.

“Goodnight.” Deciding that it’s been long enough, you hang up first, and without even moving to the bedroom, just lay on the couch until sleep takes you.

-----

“Ah, wait!” Heejin pouts, looking at her phone. “This guy, still hanging up like that, maybe he didn’t grow that much after all.” Even while complaining, Heejin still has a smile plastered on her face.

When you left them 3 years ago, cutting off all contact, she was devastated. In one night, she lost her best friend of 20+ years, and her crush. It was with the joint effort from the rest of Loona that she is still willing to co-exist with Hyeju.

Even as groupmates, she can never forgive Hyeju for what she has done to you. Who would she side with: a groupmate of a few years, or a best friend of 20+ years? Being an idol might be her dream work, but she would never abandon you.

Ever.

And now, after years of sulking and wallowing in depression, she’s met you again with a stroke of luck. Though she can tell that you have changed a lot throughout the years, something just can’t be changed. Like how you were willing to hurt yourself to save others. Heck, you just saved the girls this evening after all.

It’s regretful that she can’t stay here for long, but now having a way to contact with you again, she will make sure to make full use of it-

“Unnie?” She turns to the open door, being caught off guard while thinking to herself. She sees Hyeju standing just outside the door. “What do you need?” Despite her best effort, Heejin’s voice still comes off as quite cold, which is understandable.

“Just now, you were talking with oppa, weren’t you?” she asks with a bit of trembling in her voice. “And it was him who saved us this evening?”

Heejin scoffs, not wanting to let Hyeju figure anything out. “Just a friend, not him.”

“But you only called one person ‘Pooh’.

Heejin’s eyes widened at that. “How much did you listen?” Hyeju turns timid at her glare. “The- the whole thing…”

Heejin faces palms herself. “And what do you want?” She isn’t trying to hide the venom in her voice anymore. “You betrayed him, twice at that. What more do you possibly want to do to him?”

Gathering her courage, Hyeju looks back at Heejin defiantly. “I want to…”

A/N 2: teehee, here’s your 5k words xD

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello,if of course you wanted and if it was your will, could you write something about Thranduil. About how once, while returning to his Kingdom, he came across a slave trade where he saw an elven woman who was scared and emaciated. Thranduil is moved by this and buys her out, then takes her to the palace, though she is distrustful, appreciates him helping her, and over time I fall in love with him. You don't have to agree with this, but it may have been after Thranduil became King, but also before his son was born. Of course, if you want to write about it, and that would be your will...

Hello! I wrote this event taking place just after the sinking of Beleriand, with Oropher ruling Greenwood the Great and sections of Middle Earth being a bit of a dumpster fire after the War of Wrath. I hope you don’t mind the change. This is part one. Part two should be out in a fortnight, or just after that, and from Thranduil’s POV.

“A Better Future” Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst | Dark

Warnings: Death | Indentured servitude | Indenture Auction | Mentions of slavery | Mentions of sexual slavery | Mistreatment | Examination for purity

Wordcount : 2.3K words

Summary: An elf of the Noldor finds herself on the auction block, facing a dreary future.

A/n: For Lady Githa I drew inspiration from Six of Crows’ Tante Heleen. Most of part one is around reader's backstory, and there is only some dialog towards the end.

Minors DNI

Y/Ns POV

Y/n was still drowsy when she opened her eyes. She had seen herself with her father, listening to him play the harp and sing while her mother sewed away by the fire. There were hot pies and fresh fruit and cheese to nibble on, and her father would leave the harp to indulge in her thirst for tales of the Blessed Realm. Home was safe and warm, and everyone was alive.

Such a beautiful dream. And a dream it would forever be. Y/n threw back the rags that served as coverlets and sat up straight on the pallet that served as a featherbed. Her back ached after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced around the near-empty chamber, which was barely large enough for her. There were no possessions here, and she was not allowed any. Oh, she had been promised new garments, a hot meal, and a bath for this day, but she knew such gifts came with a heavy price. She had moved among the Edain long enough to learn this harsh truth. Y/n looked at the stone ceiling and sighed mournfully. Her fate will be decided today.

My fate was decided a long time ago, in another life, she thought bitterly. Her father had followed the sons of Fëanor and played a part in the second Kinslaying. All that returned of him was news of his disgrace and death, his role in the slaughter, and how he doomed his bloodline along with himself. As for her mother? She no longer wished to live. She followed the path of Miriel before her, lying down in a meadow and letting her fëa peacefully depart from her body. That was how y/n found her—a vessel from which the jewel had spilled. Alone and without friends, she performed the final rights for her mother before departing for safer pastures. Someone was bound to take pity on her and give her shelter; she was certain of it.

That was not to be. Door after door closed to her as soon as she made her name and ties known. Elves did not wish to sully themselves by associating with one bearing the blood of a kinslayer. The Edain did not want to offend wealthy elven patrons. Y/n had been forced to wander further and further east, year after year, alone and frightened, keeping to the outer borders of kingdoms and selling off her family’s possessions one by one in exchange for coin so she could have clothes and food. She watched in horror while smoke rose from distant battlefields, praying the fighting would never reach her. She trembled when she heard strange and terrifying roars. She listened to the songs about how the Valar finally sent their host to deal with a most wretched enemy, how the lands she once ran across as a child had been claimed by the sea. The grief of such a loss—of her home and her family—was so great that it caused her pain powerful enough to nearly cripple her. She bore it all silently. She had no choice, and she did not have a single creature to confide in. Finally, a mortal took pity on her, or so she thought. He offered her a roof over her head and a better future; all she needed to do was agree to his terms.  

Y/n snorted in derision. A better future. If only she had listened to the voice within her, demanding that she refuse. This man would play her false, it said, and place her in a condition with no hope for escape. But y/n was desperate. What coin she had left on her person was all but gone. She was tired of wandering, with no home and no hope and no future to look forward to. She agreed. And felt nothing but regret over the choice she made.

Someone knocked insistently on the door. "I am ready," she called softly. Servants of the house walked in with a healer. Y/n was asked to lay face up and stay still. A flush crept up her throat, but she did as she was told. The healer pulled her rough-spun robe up to her waist and spread her legs, to examine her. Y/n felt a pinch and winced. Her cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. She was told this was necessary. Y/n did not want to think why.

The maids mouthed meaningless comforts while they led her to the baths. Y/n did not believe they meant a word of what they said. They were only loyal to the master of the house and did not spare a thought for her before this. She sat still in a copper tub and was bathed in hot water scented with fragrant oils. One maid carefully washed her hair before picking up a comb to brush the tangles. The other cleaned her feet and nails before scrubbing her back. She chatted incessantly while she went about her tasks. Y/n listened. Anything to distract her from what was about to happen.

"Everyone is talking about you," Eda gossiped, red-cheeked and excited. "Fights have broken out amongst the younger lordlings and..."

"That is quite enough from��you, Eda," the other maid, Cwene, cut in harshly. She wanted to end whatever Eda longed to say. Eda bit her lip and nodded anxiously. They both went back to work, silent as the dead.

Y/n shivered and gulped in fright. She knew what was going to happen. She was to be indentured. The man who promised her a brighter future would sell her skills and her, to the one who was willing to pay the most. Those fortunate few who served those with fair hearts had the price of their purchase decrease over time and enjoyed a better life after that. Many more were given a price that only increased as the years passed. They had to toil day after day and year after year, slaves in all but name. Then there were those unfortunate few who faced the bleakest of all futures. Y/n did not allow herself to dwell on those others.

She thought, Perhaps I will be one of the fortunate few, and allowed herself to be helped out of the bath. Perhaps, I will be lucky.

Y/n let the maids lead her to another room and stood still while they toweled her dry and dressed her in silken wisps that made her blush. Then came her gown. It was so soft and smooth that it slipped over her palms like water. She could not remember the last time she wore anything so fine. It made her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Eda took her to a nearby stool and asked her to sit. She brushed y/n’s hair until it shone and arranged it in braids and coils. Dabs of sweet-smelling perfume were placed on each wrist and behind each ear. Finally came a pair of sandals crafted out of soft leather. Y/n sighed as if in a dream. The sandals embraced her feet gently, like lovers. Cwene held up a looking glass for her to see her reflection. Y/n was startled. She could not recognize herself.

"She looks like a proper princess now," was all Cwene allowed. Someone else arrived and knocked on the door to the baths. It was the master of the house.

"Take this one to the yard," he rasped to Eda. "The others are growing impatient."

The yard was all freshly cut grass and new flowers, and it was already full of Edain. They gaped at the elf on the raised dais, their looks making her skin crawl. A tall, beautiful woman with hair like spun gold and rubies glinting on her ears, fingers, and throat, climbed up the steps and came to y/n. She looked at her critically. Y/n buried a sob when she saw the rubies. They reminded her of her mother’s hair.

"Beautiful," she whispered, the sweetness of her voice doing little to hide the bitterness lurking beneath. She tilted y/n’s chin with the tip of an elegant walking stick. She wanted to see how her eyes caught the light. Satisfied with what she saw, the woman looked over y/n’s hair and ears, and even her teeth. "Her eyes are like jewels. But tell me, I pray you. Why does she look so gaunt and melancholy? Has she not been fed well?"

It was not said out of kindness. There was none in the lady’s hardened gray eyes. Y/n lowered her gaze and closed her own, as was expected. She did not say that she was given meager scraps because the master of the house did not wish to waste more coin than he already had on her. It could only go badly for her if she did.

"She has," Y/n’s master replied hastily. He crept up to her and dug his fingers into her arm, warning her to keep quiet. Y/n bit her tongue to stop herself from making a sound. "And since the lords that frequent The Blue Rose expect women fit for a king," he added, "This one will do nicely after a good meal, yes?"

"Indeed," the woman conceded, and looked y/n over again. She grabbed y/n's cheek hard, her nails digging into the skin. "Cry if you must," she whispered harshly when y/n, trapped and unable to move, whimpered. "Tear out your hair. I would too if I was in your place. But know this, elf. When the dust clears, you will be mine."

The woman turned to face y/n's master. "Your herald tells me she is untouched."

"Aye, lady Githa," came the reply. "The healer assured me of this."

"This truly is a most blessed day." Githa finally let go and laughed merrily. Y/n fell ill at the sound and found herself overcome with the shivers, but she welcomed the release from Githa's presence. She knew of The Blue Rose. Githa ruled it with an iron fist and was known to be a cruel mistress. The Blue, as it was more commonly known, welcomed the coin of high-born edain, some with tastes that could make one's stomach turn. At least, that was what the maids said. The women sent there never earned their freedom. Some, she had heard through careless chatter, did not even make it out alive. Y/n wanted to flee, to run somewhere no one knew of, and to hide. Since she could not, since she was already trapped, she prayed, hoping against all hope that she would not have to spend the rest of her days toiling on her back.

A herald came forth and called out her name and ties. His words were met with boisterous cheers. "She was born in the four hundred and fiftieth year of the first age," he continued, "and is skilled in both the high harp and the lute. The lady is also fluent in both Quenya and Sindarin. Her mother and father hailed from the Blessed Realm. She is meek and obedient, perfect for any household. And she is untouched. We have been assured of this. One such as her will not grace this dais again."  

Loud applause rang out around the yard. Y/n’s master grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt. She was dragged to the center of the block and made to stand straight. The herald would call out a price. Someone would offer more. Y/n listened with growing dread as her purchase price rose higher and higher. The cries soon reached a fevered frenzy that shocked her. She heard the unmistakably musical sound of Githa, the woman who looked her over like she was nothing more than a prize horse to be broken in, whatever means necessary. Githa had coin. From the way she carried on, it was plain she had plenty. If someone shouted a price, she would go higher. One by one, those others would give their excuses and stop. Y/n heard names being called out. Only six remained. Githa was one of the six. Fear coiled within her belly like a snake.

How could you do this to me, father? She wanted to cry. How could you and mother doom me to such a fate?

Y/n heard more voices. Word had already reached the marketplace and spread like a forest fire. Many poured into the yard and joined the throng. They wanted to watch. Someone shouted out ribald jests. Lady Githa replied with equal humor. The others laughed. Y/n kept her eyes closed even as her blood ran cold. She pretended not to hear. Doom coiled itself around her like a chain so heavy she could almost feel it tightening over her chest, squeezing the very air out of her. 

The herald called out names once again. Only two remained, he reminded the rest, but he invited everyone to indulge in the food and wine being served. Y/n could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Githa shouted another offer. 

"Six thousand gold pieces!" The herald declared and received a roar of approval. "And we still carry on!"

The crowd encouraged Lady Githa and her rival, urging them to continue. Grief gathered around y/n’s heart like bees. There was no escaping her fate now. No one was coming to save her. Tears welled up in her eyes and broke free. Someone laughed.  

"Twenty thousand gold pieces!" A deep voice boomed from behind the crowd. The yard went so quiet that y/n swore she would have heard a pin drop. "And an end to this wretched spectacle!"

Y/n heard the creak of floorboards. The herald went to talk with his masters. They were beside her, whispering to each other. Again, she pretended not to hear. 

"We cannot deny them," one said.

"That one will slaughter all of us if we refuse," another said. "Or do worse."

"Aye," muttered a third. "But we must give Lady Githa the opportunity to make her excuses and bow out. She may not come near us again otherwise. Continue with the sale."

"Tw-twenty thousand!" The herald returned and announced the figure. They were going to continue. "We have twenty thousand! Do either of you wish to go higher?" 

Moments passed. Y/n listened, thinking Lady Githa would call out a higher price and carry on. 

"He can have her!" Githa cried after speaking with her rival. She sounded less than pleased. "We are finished!"

"Very well!" The Herald agreed. "Twenty thousand gold! Going once, going twice, sold! To… to the crown prince of Gr-greenwood the Great!"

The herald sounded terrified. The crown prince of Greenwood the Great, he had declared. Y/n had heard of this kingdom and how its king and his people survived the sack of Doriath. In all her wanderings, she kept away from this realm, no matter how tired or weak or hungry she was. She knew she would find no welcome there. 

Y/n fearfully opened her eyes, certain the prince only brought her to punish her for the sins committed by her kin.  

Tags: @deadlymistletoe

[ticklishshenanigansau]

LaughterLand - Chapter 15: Affectionate

(story by Mod Secret, art by Mod Secret)

“Ah…. Ah-Ah-choo! Ah…choo!”

Two more weak sneezes burst out of Sans. They were no longer strong enough to push the cloud carriage along, which Sans was grateful for. The sensations of the Tickle Dust on his cheeks and inside his nose were finally starting to die down after what felt like about twenty minutes.

The Dust had also worn off on Papyrus’s back. It had gone away faster for him since he had been affected by it first. He gingerly rubbed Sans’s back as the exhausted skeleton let out another tiny sneeze.

“Ah…choo!”

It was so weak it could hardly even be called a sneeze. Sans fiercely rubbed at his nasal cavity. A cautious optimism starting to fill his chest as he was certain that he couldn’t feel anymore lingering tingles on his face or in his nose. He gave it a solid minute before he finally breathed out a steady sigh of relief.

“Are you alright, Sans?” Papyrus finally spoke.

While Sans was in the midst of his laughing-sneezing fit, the younger skeleton felt so useless not being able to help him. Even while still recovering from the Dust himself, Papyrus wanted so desperately to help give Sans the peace that his body was craving. But he could do little more than help his brother brush the dust from his cheeks and silently pray that the effects would wear off on their own, which thankfully they did.

“Y-Yeah,” Sans breathed, grateful to finally be able to take in a decent breath after so long. “Th-Thanks … Papyrus….”

Letting the fresh oxygen fill his body revealed a lot of sore spots, but it was also soothing in its own way. He took in several deep breaths, feeling each one heal him more than the last.

Papyrus offered Sans a weak smile, unable to hide the feelings of guilt in his eyes. Despite still blinking tears from his sockets, Sans noticed immediately.

"Bro…." His ragged voice was still wracked with heavy breathing. "You … okay...?"

Papyrus subtly shook his head as he glanced at the ground below them, unwilling to even try faking a smile anymore.

"Don't thank me, Sans…," he replied sadly. "I let you down."

"What?" Sans blinked in confusion, completely taken aback by his brother's response.

"Back there, when I tried to convince those fairies not to … eat us…," Papyrus explained glumly, hesitation filling his voice thinking back to that awful experience.

"Heh, it's hard coming up with an escape plan on the spot, isn't it?" Sans let out a weary chuckle. Despite his brother's attempt going horribly wrong, it was still endearing to watch him try and sell a cloud as a piece of food.

"It's just that…." Papyrus turned his sad eyes to look back into his brother's. "You're always coming up with plans on the spot, you're always trying to protect me. I guess … just this one time … I wanted to try and protect you."

"Aww, Papy…." Touched by his brother's words, Sans moved to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was halted as Papyrus turned away from him again.

"But it went wrong, it went unbelievably wrong!" Mild frustration colored Papyrus's tone as he continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be the only one who has to save us, Sans. I don't want to make you feel like…," he trailed off as his tone grew soft again, "...like you're not doing well enough as a big brother."

Sans hung next to his brother in silence, unsure of what to say to offer any sort of comfort. With his mind at a loss for words, he resumed placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, hoping that it would be enough to soothe his worries.

“But…,” Papyrus continued, voice soft with a tone of sadness. “If I can’t save you either … or worse, you end up getting hurt because of me….” Papyrus glanced just behind his brother. Sans knew he was referring to when the fairies had gone after his worst spot, and he felt responsible for it.

“Hey,” Sans interrupted him gently. “It wasn’t your fault, Pap.”

Sans moved to look Papyrus in the eyes, but Papyrus turned back towards the ground, obviously not believing in what he was saying.

“You tried, and … I know that wasn’t easy for you, bro,” Sans offered.

“I’m sorry, Sans,” Papyrus repeated. “I know I was tough on you because of your half-baked strategies, I honestly thought that I could do better.” He lightly scoffed at himself. “But it really is a lot harder than I thought it would be, and….” He looked back at Sans sympathetically. “I know that you were just trying to help.”

“Well, I think you did pretty good just thinking on your feet like that,” Sans replied with a small smile. Papyrus responded with an unamused look that caused Sans to snicker under his breath.

“No, seriously!” Sans continued, his grin widening to lighten the mood. “I mean really selling it back there by trying to scarf down a moving cloud? Talk about committing!”

Papyrus tried to snort back a chuckle, but Sans could tell that he was starting to give in to his attempt to clear the air.

“Heh heh, yes that was … most unpleasant.” Papyrus started to smile, lightly shivering upon remembering the bitter cold that engulfed his teeth from that cloud. He turned back to Sans with a raised eyebrow.

“Well what about you?” he commented, recalling that Sans had also tried a new technique to get them out of danger. “I never thought I’d see YOU trying to make friends with anyone here.”

“Heh, I guess that proves that you’re a lot better at it than I am,” Sans chuckled. “But … at least I tried.” He took in another deep breath, the oxygen filling his system feeling more refreshing than ever. Especially knowing that he and Papyrus were finally on good terms again.

“You did,” Papyrus agreed. “I am proud of you, Sans, thank you for trying.”

“I’m proud of you too, Pap,” Sans replied warmly.

The two skeletons smiled and embraced with a hug. They held on longer than expected, finally grateful to have a real moment of peace and understanding after being pursued and attacked for what felt like an eternity. Once they let go, they both let their arms dangle down, watching the colorful landscape pass below them.

Although they had reconciled, they knew that they were far from being out of trouble. Deep feelings of concern overtook them again as they gazed down at the uncertain danger that was LaughterLand.

“So…,” Papyrus said after a steady breath. “How are we going to get out of this place?”

Sans carefully looked ahead and behind them, making sure no new adversaries were sneaking up on them. Thankfully they were still alone in the sky save for the passing clouds. Though Sans wasn’t entirely convinced that the clouds weren’t also planning an ambush at this point. He turned to Papyrus, his head shaking with doubt.

“I have no clue,” he admitted. “This thing is supposed to be carrying us out of here, but after that last little encounter … it’d be stupid to assume that we can just keep floating along without running into something else.”

“Yeah,” Papyrus sighed worriedly. “We were lucky enough to run into one single creature out of a hundred that doesn’t want to feast on our laughter. I doubt we’re going to get that lucky again. So … making friends is definitely out.”

 “Yep,” Sans agreed. “I think it’s safe to assume that everything and everybody in this place just wants to t … tickle us.”

He hesitated upon saying that dreadful word. Even if it had happened to him a hundred times today, something about saying it out loud gave him a feeling of self-consciousness. Papyrus held back a snicker upon hearing Sans’s tone shift.

“You … don’t even like saying the word, do you?” he teased, a knowing grin growing on his face.

Sans felt a rush of warmth flooding into his cheeks. He blinked awkwardly, subconsciously trying to avoid eye contact with Papyrus. He silently hoped that he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. But according to the smirk he could feel radiating off of Papyrus, he wasn’t pulling it off like he had hoped.

“I, uh…,” Sans stammered, unsure of how to answer. He swallowed hard. “N-No, it’s fine,” he quickly lied, though even he was aware of how unconvincing he sounded.

“Oh, yeah?” Papyrus giggled, a mischievous grin decorating his face. “Then how come your face is turning bright blue?”

Sans instinctively reached behind him to pull his hood up over his face, forgetting that he no longer had his jacket wrapped around him. Growing increasingly more flustered, he physically turned away from Papyrus, refusing to look him in the eyes.

“Nah, you’re just imagining things bro.” He tried so hard to play it cool, unaware of just how much his blue blush was betraying him. “I think all of that t … tickling is starting to get to ya.”

He quietly cursed the hesitation that creeped back into his tone the second time. He never meant for it to sound so faltered, but it was as if his brain was subconsciously forbidding him to outright say it. As if saying it was an open invitation for whoever or whatever was nearby to attack him once again. He despised how vulnerable it made him feel, and Papyrus’s amused reaction was not helping him feel any better.

“Heh heh heh, I’m sorry, all that … WHAT is starting to get to me?” He smirked playfully.

“Hrnk!” Sans’s voice abruptly caught in his throat. He tried so hard to keep any more blush from spreading across his face. He shot Papyrus an unamused glare, his brother knew exactly what he was doing.

“Come on, bro,” Sans urged, trying to get him to drop it. Though he could feel a genuine excitement starting to build up within him as he observed his brother’s teasing grin.

“Whaaaat?” Papyrus asked, faking a tone of innocence. “If you can so confidently say it without blushing up a storm, then prove it.”

Papyrus faced Sans down, his arms crossed and a patronizing smile upon his face. Sans growled under his breath as he turned to look at his brother. He wanted so badly to look him right in the sockets and say it without any tone of hesitation or embarrassment. But it felt as though Papyrus were staring directly into his Soul with that knowing grin. Sans knew deep down in his non-existent gut that if he tried to say it, then he was in great danger of falling into a big blushing mess in front of his brother. He could feel his teeth start to tremble as his mind tried to force the word out without causing such a fuss.

“Can YOU say it?” he finally backpedaled, hoping that it would be enough to throw Papyrus off of his back. Papyrus’s smile dropped almost instantly. Sans noticed and continued on, feeling a small bit of his confidence returning.

“Can you say it without reacting?” Sans challenged.

For a moment, Papyrus’s glance tore away from Sans. He wasn’t yet blushing like the older skeleton, but it was clear that he didn’t want to answer right away. A smile started to form on Sans’s face, thinking that he managed to catch Papyrus off-guard — as well as get his own bony-butt out of trouble. However, it immediately dropped once Papyrus’s expression shifted to a calm demeanor.

“As a matter of fact, I can,” Papyrus replied bluntly.

Sans raised an eyebrow, examining Papyrus’s tone of voice and facial expression. He wasn’t buying it, Papyrus wasn’t even looking him in the eye. Sans was immediately convinced that his brother was bluffing, a grin formed upon deciding to call him out on it.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked. “Prove it.”

Papyrus’s eyes suddenly flew open, Sans’s grin grew wider. He knew it. Papyrus was just as susceptible to everything that cursed word implied as he was. But before he was able to rub it in his face, Papyrus suddenly looked at him with an expression of urgency.

Sans blinked in confusion before Papyrus motioned for him to come closer. They were already fairly close, being tied together at the hip. But Papyrus clearly wanted his brother to be close enough for him to whisper something in secret. The serious look in his eyes told Sans that the conversation involving the word had been dropped and Papyrus was now in serious mode. Sans cautiously moved the side of his face closer to Papyrus, almost afraid of what he had to say. His mind raced with the thought that perhaps Papyrus spotted another enemy closing in, or something worse. But as Sans came close enough for Papyrus to clearly whisper to him, he felt his brother smile again as the words came out of his mouth.

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!”

“Papyrus!!”

Blue warmth immediately overcame Sans’s face, he could feel it all the way up to his sockets and even across his forehead. Papyrus laughed loudly watching his brother uncomfortably squirm and cover his bright blue face with his hands. Sans desperately wished that he could hide his face, he longed for the comfort of his jacket. Though he knew it would do little to shield him from the embarrassment of being so effortlessly flustered by his brother.

“That is … so cheap, bro!” Sans lamented, trying to rub the blush from his cheeks.

“Nyah hahahahaha! Oh my god, Sans!” Papyrus cackled. He ignored the fact that his ribs were still sore from laughing so much, in favor of enjoying what he had just subjected his brother to.

“You should see the look on your face! Hahahaha!” he joked. More laughter spilling out as he heard Sans’s disgruntled groan.

The breeze blowing them along through the air helped Sans’s face cool down enough to recover. Though embarrassment still plagued him as he continued to be taunted by Papyrus’s laughter. He tried to glare back at him. But Sans’s frown melted upon seeing Papyrus’s genuine happiness, even if it was at his own expense. Still, being the playful big brother that he was, he knew that this teasing disrespect for his ‘big-brother authority’ could not go unpunished.

“Okay,” he retorted. “Let’s see how you like it.”

Papyrus’s amused giggling abruptly stopped. He glanced down at Sans, a mix of excitement and panic spread across his face. He knew that intimidating look in his brother’s eye, it meant he was in for it.

“Uh … that’s not necessary brother,” Papyrus replied nervously. The mischievous expression on Sans’s face made Papyrus look around in a panic. Though he was unsure why, it wasn’t like he could run anywhere.

“Really, I don’t think—”

He was cut off as Sans pulled him into a headlock. For a moment Papyrus froze in horror, his Soul thumped as the anticipation consumed him within a fraction of a second. He knew what was coming, so why didn’t he try to fight or scramble away? He whimpered as Sans pulled his head close enough to whisper into his ear.

“Tickle tickle tickle tiiiickle!!”

“EEK!!”

Much like Sans, the overwhelming orange blush flooded onto Papyrus’s face. He cringed with embarrassment, finally making a real effort to squirm away. Sans held tight to his brother’s locked position, moving his face away to laugh loudly at his reaction.

"Ha ha ha ha!! Gotcha bro!" Sans chuckled.

Although he felt Papyrus struggling to pull away from him, a warm smile spread across his face as he held tighter. Papyrus may have been trying to get loose, but Sans could tell by the look on his face that he was also having fun.

"Sahahahans!!" Papyrus giggled, confirming Sans's suspicions. "Let go of meeee!! Heh heh heh heh!!"

The brothers slightly rocked through the air as Papyrus's feet kicked wildly behind them. Sans wasn't sure what came over him, but he decided to up the ante in his big-brother shenanigans. He reached over to give his brother a well-deserved skull-noogie!

"Aaaahahahaha!!" Papyrus shrieked, pulling harder against Sans's grip. "That's so mehehean!! Let go!!"

Despite all of his fighting and kicking, Papyrus couldn't stop himself from laughing … and honestly neither could Sans. These moments of shared sibling japery, we're exactly what the two of them needed to help them overcome this nightmare.

Though a refreshing feeling of amusement had taken over them, even Papyrus was starting to feel the strain on his neck from Sans's tight grip. But he was laughing too hard to convey his feelings of discomfort. Not that Sans would have listened, Papyrus knew when his brother was having too much fun to quit.

In the moment, both skeletons had completely forgotten where they were and what they had been through. They were in a moment of absolute merriment and mirth, with the feelings of fear and uncertainty involving this land were steadily melting away. So Papyrus didn't think anything of it as he reached both of his hands up to promptly scribble all over Sans's ribs in an effort to get his brother to release him.

"Gitchy! Gitchy! Gitchy! Gitchy!" Papyrus screeched out a fleeting tease.

"AAH!! Ahahahaha!! Brohohoho!!"

Sans erupted into a short burst of giggles that followed a yelp of surprise. He imitated the sound of a whine as he chuckled out his brother's name, releasing him and hugging onto his ribs to rub the tingling sensation out.

The laughter between them died down faster than expected as both brothers turned to look at each other. Their expressions immediately drained of joy upon realizing what Papyrus had just done. The younger skeleton immediately put his hands up to his mouth, quickly offering Sans an apologetic look.

"I-I'm sorry, Sans!" he stammered. "I just … I got too carried away."

He hoped with all his might that he hadn't pushed his brother back into a dark place. Though on the inside, he was cursing himself for being so thoughtless. Who cares if they were merely roughhousing like they used to? He KNEW his brother would not want to be tickled after all that had happened, and yet he did it anyways!

"I … uh…," Sans froze, unsure of what to say next.

He wasn't even certain of what kind of face he was giving Papyrus. All he knew was that one moment he was enjoying playing with his little brother, and then it was over. Papyrus's expression dropped from one of panicked concern, to a solemn sadness.

"I apologize," he said glumly. "You've … already been through so much today. I won't do that again." Papyrus turned his gaze away from Sans and back towards the ground.

"No, I…," Sans faltered. He didn't want Papyrus to feel bad, especially not for trying to have fun with him after going through so much. "I'm … sorry too." His tone was hollow as he too turned towards the ground.

Was he sorry though? He could never really be sorry for their playful little brawl, not after it had done so well in lifting their spirits. No, it wasn't that … it was that impromptu tickle attack. Surely after everything that had happened, after every time he had been held down against his will, every time he had been tickle-tortured way beyond the point of breaking … Sans thought that surely he could never even think about tickling ever again. Right? Was Papyrus out of line for even trying? Even just the tiniest poke should have sent Sans into a blind panic … but … it didn't.

As the two of them awkwardly dangled there in the silence, Sans came to realize just how disappointed he had felt for not being able to play with Papyrus again. He had been having such well-deserved fun bonding with him, that even the act of tickling didn't faze him like it had with all of the creatures that they had encountered in LaughterLand. As crazy as it was for him to admit, he wanted to get that playful energy back. More than that … he craved it.

But directly contradicting his feelings, was that of knowing how self-conscious he felt bringing it up. He didn’t want to outright tell Papyrus to keep playing with him, it was strange for even Sans to think about under these circumstances. He looked over at his brother’s guilt-ridden face. Somehow, he could just tell that Papyrus was thinking the same thing, that he, too, secretly wanted to continue this play-fighting. Sans glanced down towards his brother’s spine, coming to the conclusion that if he couldn’t talk about it freely, then perhaps he could draw it out of his brother.

Sans subtlety tucked one arm under the other, using his hidden arm he reached his hand over to abruptly jab his finger into Papyrus’s spine.

“EEP!”

Papyrus jolted, immediately snapping out of his depressive funk. His head snapped to the side to give his brother a look. Sans stared off into the opposite direction, totally faking a look of innocence. He gave Papyrus a sharp glance and immediately snorted back an amused chuckle at the sight of his brother’s perturbed expression.

Narrowing his eyes, Papyrus quickly took note of his brother’s mischief. As Sans continued looking off into space and trying to hide his laughter, Papyrus snuck his own hand over towards his brother’s side. Giving it that same teasing poke before turning around to fake his own innocence.

“HNK!!”

Sans lurched forwards upon the ticklish contact. Turning to see Papyrus’s own ‘guiltless’ expression told him that it was on. Quickly he repeated the action, poking Papyrus back and turning away before he could look at his brother, Papyrus responding in kind.

It went on for what felt like a good solid minute at least. Both brothers poking at each other and trying to get the other one to react, before turning to pretend they had nothing to do with it. After that bit of playful banter, Papyrus decided to trick Sans by catching him as he turned to give him another poke. Papyrus gave Sans's side another poke causing him to jump and giggle. But instead of turning to fake an innocent look again, he stayed to face his brother. Sans turned, thinking he was going to see Papyrus staring off into the distance again. But was instead greeted by his brother staring him directly in the face.

"GAH!" Sans jumped at the surprise, not realizing that Papyrus's fingers were still positioned at his side. Papyrus giggled deviously as he dug two fingers into Sans’s side, causing the older skeleton to flinch and snort. Papyrus pulled his hands back, laughing at Sans's ridiculous reaction. After fiercely rubbing the tingles out of his side, Sans shot Papyrus an evil glare.

"Oh, that is it!" he jeered. Sans shoved his wriggling fingers onto his brother's ribs, tickling him like crazy. Papyrus shrieked and immediately tried to squirm away from the attack.

"EEHEEHEEHEEK!! Oh nohohoho!! Nyahahahaha!!" He giggled, instinctively trying to push Sans's hands away.

Sans stopped, suddenly realizing what he was doing. He quickly backed his hands off of Papyrus, giving him a chance to breathe. As Papyrus began to calm down, Sans felt that same guilty pang of anxiety that Papyrus had experienced earlier.

"Oops…," he mumbled regretfully.

He could now understand why Papyrus had stopped when he did. As much joy as Papyrus's unbridled laughter brought him, he remembered just how much his brother had suffered at the hands of this place as well. It was one thing wanting Papyrus to play with him that way, but the last thing he wanted to do was overstep, knowing his brother had already been through enough.

"I'm sorry, Pap," Sans quietly apologized. "I guess … I got a little carried away there myself," he admitted, rubbing a hand behind his skull.

Papyrus, too, had mixed emotions about what had just happened. Their shared ticklishness had been the ultimate cause for their suffering since setting foot in this awful place. He couldn't understand why in their right mind they would actively pursue it with each other if it had brought them so much misery. Noticing the shame in his brother's eyes, Papyrus offered an idea that would possibly help to comfort him.

"Heh … this place is … really something, huh?" He half-chuckled.

It was enough to wipe the guilt from his brother's face as he nodded in agreement. Truthfully, it wasn't a bad idea to blame their sudden enthusiasm for tickling each other on this place. For all they knew something in the air could be messing with their minds and making them only THINK that it was something they wanted to do. It was a comfortable lie to hold onto for their own dignity's sake. Though they both were aware that it was still a lie nevertheless. Papyrus looked at Sans, who was staring back at the ground with his arms crossed.

He took in a deep breath. He knew that he was going to sound crazy for what he was about to say, but deep down he hoped it would help them both make sense of this strange phenomenon.

"No…," he quietly spoke, prompting Sans to look towards him again. "I…. I don't think it's this place," he confessed.

Sans could see the gears turning in his brother's head and offered him a supportive half-smile.

"Think it's us?" he suggested. Papyrus turned back to his brother. One look was enough to tell him that they were both on the same page.

"Well, it's just … I don't know…," Papyrus stammered, trying to find the right words. "It's … well it's just not very fun being … tickled against your will."

Papyrus felt his cheeks grow warm as he too hesitated upon saying the word. He chose to ignore the small snort that escaped from Sans's nasal cavity and continued on.

"Being tickled by … creatures, and scary plants, and other creepy crawlers that want to do us harm…." He spared Sans a sincere glance. "But … it's different when it's you," he proclaimed. Sans smiled back, encouraging Papyrus to keep going. "You're my brother, I love playing with you. I love TEASING you until you fall to pieces!"

He gave Sans a gentle elbow to the ribcage, drawing out a burst of jovial giggling from the older skeleton. He pulled back to continue explaining.

"But … I know you would never hurt me either, Sans."

Sans rubbed at his ribcage, still smiling at his brother. A mixture of pride and relief washed over him. Papyrus had pretty much laid everything that he had been feeling himself out on the table, and in a way that made them both feel normal and seen.

"Honestly," Sans replied gently. "I feel the same way. I know we've had the absolute DAYLIGHTS t … tickled out of us today…."

He paused, knowing that Papyrus's mischievous grin was beaming down on him with the sound of his tone shifting.

"Sh-Shut-up!" he quickly retorted, Papyrus stifled a giggle as he continued.

"But … it's almost therapeutic when it's with you," he admitted. "I don't know … it's like I can just let go and laugh … and not have to worry about it going too far." He shot Papyrus an impish grin. "Not to mention, you've got the most adorable baby-bones laugh anyone in the Underground has ever heard!"

With that, he grabbed onto Papyrus's ribs again, scribbling his fingers around and in-between them.

"Nyah!! Ahahahahaha!! H-Hehehey!!" Papyrus burst into laughter, playfully trying to push Sans away. "I-I do nahahahat!!" he argued through his laughter.

"Ohoho yes you do!" Sans teased as he caused Papyrus to squeal.

Papyrus retaliated by wriggling his fingers under Sans's neck with one hand, while the other one poked along his side.

"Ahahahaha!! Hey, you cheheheheater!!" Sans guffawed, struggling to keep his hands tickling at his brother's ribs.

The two of them dangled there as they continued attacking at each other's weak points, not aware of how much time had passed. All that they knew was that they were having fun, bonding, and consumed by a laughter that was drawn out of them, not by force, but by playfulness.

Sans, not having nearly as much energy as Papyrus, grew tired faster than he was expecting. He halted his attack on his brother in favor of holding onto his ribs in defense.

"Heeheeheeheehee!! N-No mohohore! I gihihive!!" He giggled as he felt Papyrus trying to dig inside his underarms. "You win!! Yohohou wihihin!!" His tone started to rise in pitch, but thankfully, Papyrus had stopped before it came close to sounding like legit panic.

"Yes! Victory for The Great Papyrus!!" Papyrus threw both fists up into the air in celebration.

Sans was almost tempted to give his underarms a retaliating poke. But he declined, instead focusing on this tremendous feeling of warmth rising in his chest. This was the first time in what felt like ages where his recovering inhales after a tickle attack didn't leave him completely sore and worn out. Instead, it felt comforting, relaxing even. He looked up at Papyrus's happy smile and could immediately tell that he was feeling the same way. They both needed this. Papyrus brought his arms down to wrap Sans in another warm hug.

"Heh, thanks bro." Sans sighed, feeling content.

Both brothers dangled their limbs over the passing landscape again. This time a feeling of warmth and satisfaction gathering in their bones. After a while, Sans noticed that Papyrus kept looking right behind them. He could tell that his brother was starting to feel antsy. Papyrus was not the type of skeleton to stay comfortably still in one place — or in this case, one position — for so long. Sans felt the weight of the web that was pulling them start to shift as Papyrus flipped onto his back.

"Pap?" Sans questioned as he noticed his brother gripping onto the rope with both of his hands. "What are you doing?"

"I have an idea," Papyrus replied, sounding confident.

Gripping on with both hands, Papyrus started climbing up the string of web, pulling the both of them up closer towards the cloud. Sans wasn't sure where Papyrus was going with this, and it was a little freaky to see him messing with what was already a safe and stable vehicle through the place. He just hoped that Papyrus wasn't going to accidentally send them tumbling down to the ground.

Papyrus grunted loudly as he continued to pull them up. He was obviously struggling with the weight of the both of them tied together. Sans didn't know how he could help aside from just trying not to make too much movement as they ascended.

"Sans!" Papyrus grunted. "You need to start exercising, Brother! You weigh a ton!"

An evil grin instantly spread across Sans's face, he almost burst with mischief.

This so wasn't the time or place.

That never stopped him before.

After all that brotherly bonding?

Did he dare?

"A … skele-ton?" he joked.

Papyrus stopped pulling to give his brother the most resentful expression he had ever seen.

Sans burst into laughter on the spot. He tried to calm himself enough to make sure he didn't wiggle too much. But that was the kind of reaction he had been hoping to get out of Papyrus for SO LONG!

"Sans, pleeeeeease!" Papyrus groaned.

"Aw, what's wrong, bro?" Sans continued teasing. "Tired of being strung along?" He burst into more laughter as Papyrus groaned even louder.

"Sans! You're not helping!" he griped as he continued to climb.

"What?" Sans stifled back a giggle. "Couldn't stand all that AIR on your DERRIÉRE?" He cackled so hard he threw his head back laughing.

Papyrus, utterly frustrated with his brother's childish jokes, whipped his head around to glare at him.

"Sans!" he snarled. "I'm about at the end of my rope with—" He gasped, hand immediately slapped over his mouth upon realizing what he just said.

Sans utterly lost it.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHOHO MY GAHAHAD PAP!!" he laughed so hard he started wheezing.

Papyrus continued to glare as he ignored his brother's patronizing laughter and kept climbing. Cheeks immediately flushed with orange.

Once Papyrus climbed up to where the web had lassoed the cloud, he reached his arms up to grip onto the makeshift carriage. He half-expected his arm to go completely through the cloud, but to his surprise, it was fluffy, cool to the touch, and totally solid. As if he had just grabbed onto the largest collection of cotton balls. Grunting and straining, he pulled himself as well as Sans up to the top of the cloud carriage.

It was amazing, not only with how comfortable it felt, but just how it was so easily able to hold both skeletons from both ends of its structure. The brothers sat side by side, it was nice to be able to face forward to see where they were going for once. Despite how dangerous they knew LaughterLand to be, something about looking at it from so high up in the air was almost soothing. Like the brothers could finally take a break from worrying about the chaos that was sure to find them one way or another, and really enjoy the strange and vibrant colors that decorated all that was below them. It was somehow scary, and beautiful, and intimidating, and breathtaking all at once.

"Sans…," Papyrus finally spoke.

"Yeah, bro?"

"Whatever happens here…," he slightly faltered. A small expression of anxiety colored his tone. "Just … don't let it mess up our brotherly bonding … okay?"

Sans gave Papyrus a soft smile, putting his arm around him in a half-hug.

"No problem, bro"

"You promise?" Papyrus leaned his skull on top of his brother's.

"I promise," Sans replied adamantly. "And you know that I don't make promises lightly." Papyrus scoffed, pulling back to give Sans a knowing smirk.

"Heh, yeah I know…. You still haven't picked up your sock."

Sans paused, he turned to offer his brother a sheepish grin, but Papyrus wasn't having it. Sans knew there was only one way to get his hide out of trouble.

"...hey look! A spine!"

Sans dove for his brother's spine, tickling and teasing it mercilessly. Papyrus shrieked, but immediately retaliated by diving for his brother's underarms. They floated along laughing and teasing each other across the vast and unknown landscape that was LaughterLand.

***

Back at the lab, Gaster was rummaging through every book he had on his shelf. There wasn't a single solitary cure for this kind of thing that he could find, and he was starting to grow desperate. He was so distracted that he didn't even notice the two unconscious skeletons slightly moving their hands towards each other.

Somehow, beyond their trance, Sans and Papyrus found each other. Their hands locked together, silently comforting the other one and letting them know they weren't alone.

[hauntedwitch04]

Fools in love

Remus Lupin x reader

Words: 1,8k words

Warnings: none, just fluff and idiots totally in love with each other

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It fells so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. Hope you enjoy the first day of my Halloween Party

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🎃Halloween party 🎃

DAY 1: “Take my sweater, I love you and i don’t want you to transform into a popsicle”

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Rain beats hard against the windows of the Gryffindor common room. The fire near me crackles, and the pieces of wood seem to break like bone after a very hard punch, as my heart probably had a few hours ago.

I've spent a lot of time by the fire, but even so, I can't shake the cold that got into my bones, in the rush in the rain I made to get back to the castle, after waiting for more than two hours for a Ravenclaw boy who asked me out, outside the Mielandia.

I still remember the feeling of the cold wind against my cheeks wet with hot tears. My sweater was now dumped on the sofa, soaked with rain, and dripping rhythmically on the floor, mesmerizing me.

The fire dances before my eyes, and I can't help but feel like two people hugged tightly, dancing to music of their own created by their love.

A little bit I feel stupid in feeling so bad, for a guy who basically I don't even like since I've actually been in love with one of my best friends for what seems like ages now, but I think the thing that has hurt me most of all is not being able to be loved even by this mysterious guy whose name I honestly can't even remember.

For hours now I've been asking myself if I'm really worth loving? Why should people fall in love with me? Am I worthy of someone's love? If I can't even date a guy I don't like, how could I ever date the one I consider the love of my life? And why the hell does Remus John Lupin have to be so perfect?

I spend what seems like days sitting there staring into the fire. I hear people passing by, coming in and out of the dorms, some stop and look at me with compassion, trying to somehow share my pain, while others whisper hypotheses and theories about why I am in that situation. I, however, remain impassive, like a marble statue, the only emotion I allow to shine through are the tears I cannot stop.

It is still a long time before I can glance at the clock without seeing it fogged up by my crying.

Midnight.

I close my eyes and pray for any otherworldly entity to erase my memory of this rainy early October day, when my thoughts are interrupted by a warm hand resting on my shoulder. I turn slightly and my breath catches in my throat for a moment, for fear that the object of my thoughts will see itself reflected in my eyes and be able to read into me, into my soul.

"Lily told me you've been stationary here for more than four hours. I had to practically make a deal with the devil to get Poppy to let me leave early to come to you, luckily yesterday wasn't too bad." He says quietly as he sits down next to me, the famous Remus Lupin, every Hogwarts girl's dream, looking at me softly. Shit, I think to myself, there was a full moon yesterday that's why I didn't see him all day. I hadn't worried about it too much actually before I went to the appointment, too caught up in the anxiety of this meeting, but now I realize what a shitty friend I've been to him. I look at him and see his face battered by sleep and exhaustion, while only a few new scratches or scars adorn his face. My eyes land on his, and selling his worried look I can't help but feel guilty and go back to crying. After a few seconds, I realize that I am not only crying out of guilt, but also out of the realization that he, the boy I love more than my own life, will never see me in the same way that I see him but only as a friend to be taken care of.

His warm hands brush my shoulders and I immediately shiver at that contact. His gaze grows even more concerned and he immediately decides to take off his heavy sweater, one of his favorites that his mother made him last year after his had all grown small when he grew up all of a sudden during the summer. As he takes off the sweater, with his arms still above his head and this one still covered by the garment, his T-shirt, which he wore underneath, rises slightly so that his athletic body covered in scratches can be seen. I feel my cheeks turn red as I look at him, but I am quickly distracted by my friend handing me his sweater.

"Take my sweater, I love you and I don't want you to turn into a popsicle," he says, fixing his hair. His words strike me more pain than a bullet, but I hide my distress behind a bitter smile, and put on his sweater. Immediately I am hit by his scent: chocolate, cinnamon, ink mixed with book pages and cigarettes. I thank him in a thin voice, before returning to silence.

"I guess I understand that the date didn't go very well." He says after a few minutes, trying to figure out if I felt like talking about it, watching me carefully as I played with my sleeves.

"Actually, there wasn't even a date." I reply, chuckling bitterly.

"What do you mean?" He retorts confused, as he moves closer to me, to study me better.

"Well he never showed up. I stood like a moron in front of the place where he told me to meet for a couple of hours, even caught some rain, then when I realized that I was merely making a fool of myself I came running back here, and I haven't moved from here since." I explain quickly, not wanting to cry again.

I see the anger mounting in his eyes as he takes one of my hands between his and brings it to his mouth.

"If anyone has made a fool of himself it's him, honey. He's a fool if he missed an opportunity like this. You deserve so much better, the best person the world has to offer." He says in a whisper as he holds me in his arms, doing nothing but twisting the knife in the wound making me bleed more and more.

After a while he breaks away from that grip and takes something out of his pants pocket, which I discover is a piece of chocolate, and hands it to me.

"Eat, you'll feel better." He tells me, but I shake my head.

"I don't feel like eating, Remmy." I try calling him by his nickname, hoping to soften him, knowing that when he puts his mind to something, it's hard to change his mind.

"Honey, I won't take no for an answer. I care about you, like a sister, and I don't want to not only see you suffer for that moron but also starve to death." He continues, pulling my face up, resting one of his fingers under my face.

I don't know why I feel something breaking inside, as if a pitcher full of water has decided to pour in, and I no longer have control over my words.

"That's exactly my problem Remmy. I'm not crying, sitting here for over four hours for a guy whose name I can't even remember, I'm feeling like I'm dying inside because what happened made me realize that the only guy I've ever really loved in my life will never look at me, if he's not even interested in me even a person who's not even worth a hole in his sock. I've been sitting here for hours crying because I'm afraid that I'm not worthy of being loved, because I'm afraid that I'll have to live with these damn feelings, because I'm afraid that I'll see this boy grow up and fall in love with someone else while I'll still be here, and he'll continue to see me as just a sister, and he just happens to have reminded me of that fact himself just a little while ago." At my last words I see his eyes light up, having realized who I was talking about, after being dark and dull throughout my entire speech. "And now if you don't mind, after screwing up our friendship, I'm going to bed." And I try to get up, but I don't make it in time because a hand encircles my wrist and Remus draws me toward him forcefully, in contrast to his delicate lips brushing against mine. It takes me a few seconds to return the kiss, unsure of what this moment might change between us, before I let myself go completely to him. I bring my hands behind his head, and run my fingers through his hair, while his hands go around my hips to take me on his lap, as we continue to kiss, as if we were suffocating and that was our oxygen.

"I love you, I love you, I've loved you for what seems like forever, and I'm just a coward for not telling you sooner." He says pulling away slightly, so he can breathe before giving me another full kiss. Then he starts giggling, and I look at him shocked, before I start laughing too. We laugh until our stomachs hurt and tears furrow our faces. Remus stands up, picks me up and lays me down on the couch in front of the fire, then lies down next to me.

"We are two idiots." I say, chuckling some more. "We are so stupidly in love that we didn't realize each other's feelings."

"We're all idiots in love, honey." Remus replies, kissing my forehead. "Sirius will never get tired of holding it against me that he was right." He says giggling and hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

"Not even Lily." I chuckle in response as well, before I feel that being held tightly in her arms, sleep is slowly taking over my senses.

"By the way, you look very good in my sweater, honey." Those are the last words I hear before I fall completely asleep.

At that moment, however, neither of us knows yet that our friends will never let us forget the fact that they found us the next morning cuddled on the couch in the Common Room, in front of the fire, and I was wearing the sweater of what would become my husband and the father of my children, to whom Sirius would tell this story and how their parents fell in love and how he and Aunt Lily were right.

[fool-counter]

September first, 1989, dear diary...

I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Sh—s!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-d—! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cr—le! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Yale, or Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, will receive a full scholarship from the University of "dude let's get wasted and light our farts on fire" he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality,

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful!

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful!

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful!

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

....That's not so beautiful!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Yeah! Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast, Heather?

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Wearin' these rad ass heels!

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

September first, 1989, dear diary...

I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Sh—s!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-d—! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cr—le! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Yale, or Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, will receive a full scholarship from the University of "dude let's get wasted and light our farts on fire" he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality,

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful!

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful!

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful!

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

....That's not so beautiful!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Yeah! Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast, Heather?

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Wearin' these rad ass heels!

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

fool count: 36

beautiful... beautifool... it all starts to blend together after a while...

[themultifandomgal]

Arthur Shelby- F Off Linda

Trigger warning- sexual assault (mentioned), Linda being a bitch, talk about religion and the usual peaky blinders stuff.

At the start of mine and Arthur's relationship, if we can even all it that, it was just sex. My parents both passed away when I was 16 and I had to do anything to look after my younger siblings. At first it was stealing then it was sex work. I first met Arthur when I was 20, him 12 year older. A few months into seeing him, he asked me to only see him if he payed me more. Feelings developed between us both and when we started officially seeing each other Tommy offered me a job at the betting shop, promised to keep me and my sisters safe.

It's been 5 years now and Arthur and I are to be married in the next few months, well I hope. At Tommy and Graces wedding a woman named Linda approached Arthur and has wormed her way into our lives somehow. After the death of Grace, Tommy started dating Lizzie, who also used to be a sex worker.

We're sat in the Garrison having a meeting, Lizzie and I sit next to one another, Arthur next to me. The door opens and in walks Linda

"What's she doing here?" I look from her to Tommy

"We need her help"

"I don't fucking care. Thought it was only family in these meetings"

"Like I said YN we need her help" I huff crossing my arms over my chest at Tommy "Linda sit" Linda chooses to sit next to Arthur, earning a death stare from me

"So how's Linda going to help Tom? Pray Father Hughes away? Pray that what happened to Micheal didn't happen? Because Tommy, if you want Father Hughes dead there's no way in hell" Linda coughs not liking what I'm saying "Tom there's no way hell she will let that happen"

"Thank you for your input YN" Tommy sighs obviously irritated

"Tommy you've known me for 5 years. You've known her what? A year? She will fuck us all over"

"YN, love why don't we go and get a drink?" Arthur says looking at me

"You know you shouldn't drink so much" Linda says

"Linda, for me to stay sane I need to be drunk" I reply

"Arthur take YN to the bar. Calm her down before she shoots Linda in the head"

"Come on love" Arthur pulls me up and we leave our privet room and go to the bar

"I hate her"

"I know, but if Tommy says she can help we have to trust him"

Once having a drink and feeling a little calmer we head back into the snug and sit down in our original seats

"Any calmer YN?" John asks but I just glare at him

"I've just told Linda what she will be doing. YN, Lizzie I want you to ask your old friends if they know anything we could use against him"

"Old friends" Linda scoffs

"Problem Linda?" Lizzie asks

"They weren't your friends" Linda laughs "I'm surprised neither of you have the clap or have a secret child" I ball my hands up trying to not literally kill this woman "I mean you were whores once upon a time. You both had sex before marriage, Arthur doesn't that bother you?"

"No" Arthur shrugs

"YN you were a child when...."

"When I had to sell my body to keep myself and my sisters alive!" I've had enough. I jump out of my chair shouting "to keep them out of the fucking orphanage, off the fucking streets. Yes and if I had to do it again for them I would"

"Well what's your excuse" she asks Lizzie

"None of your fucking business" she replies

"Tommy if she doesn't leave right now, I won't be responsible for my actions"

"Ok, ok Linda leave"

"What?"

"You heard him go" Polly now says

"Why me? She's basically threatened me" Linda points at me

"She is family" Polly "you however..."

"But..."

"Oh just fuck off Linda. No one here actually likes you"

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you realise that your going to hell"

"Think I'll be ok" I breathe a sigh of relief once she leaves "thank fuck for that"

That evening after Arthur and I have gone home we sit down for some food at the table. Annoyingly what Linda said got to me a little. Does Arthur actually care about my past, that he has to leave with my younger sisters

"Are you alright?" Arthur asks me

"What Linda said earlier about my past. That doesn't bother you does it?"

"Why would it? I was a part of that. I love you, I want to marry you. Fuck what Linda says"

"I know. Sorry. She just gets under my skin"

"You can't let her. Once Tommy has used her for what he needs she'll be gone"

"Hope so"

"YN, Arthur we're home" my sisters call out after we hear the door open then close

"Ok, there's food in the kitchen"

"Thanks"

"Your a good sister. You know that don't you?"

"I've tried my best"

"You'll be a good mother one day as well"

"One day?"

"Mmm maybe after we're we marry?"

"Maybe" I give Arthur a smile knowing that we most likely will have a baby once we get married.

[queerprayers]

do you have any tips for protestant christians who want to practice advent in a more ritualistic way?

Happy Advent, beloved! I love this question!

Hopefully this isn't too obvious but just in case: Advent wreaths were originally a Lutheran tradition and they're my favorite holiday ritual! I'm in the minority in that my church's Advent color is blue, but many people's are purple and pink. The Wikipedia page lists some different traditions—some people give a meaning to each candle. Generally people will have five and light one for each week of Advent and then one for Christmas. Advent is cut short this year (Advent 4 and Christmas Eve are the same day) but it's still never too late to start participating in a season! One day of mindful Advent is more precious than weeks of half-hearted Advent.

I have blue and gold candle holders, but many places sell Advent-specific candles and holders, or you can just get four or five candles (real or fake) from around the house and arrange them! I haven't gotten around to it yet this year but I like gathering evergreen branches from outside and arranging them in more of a proper wreath, but a fake wreath would work too, or just candles on a cloth or table.

I also saw this 20-minute Advent candle set, where you can light a candle each day and let it burn down while praying/meditating/writing. You could set a timer and do something similar with any type of candle. Candles are a staple of winter holidays for a reason—light and warmth, obviously, and there's something about having a natural source of those things existing in your house when so much of the rest of your life may be artificial. I thank God my house has heating, but I also seek out the ways this earth provides what we need, if we only know where to look.

Some form of counting down to Christmas is a main theme of Advent traditions, and I don't think this is a bad thing at all, although I do see my Advent wreath as more of a fulfillment than a countdown. I always encourage people to take at least a moment for just Advent. We could look at Lent as a countdown to Easter, but we might miss the journey. And after all, Holy Week and Easter is the culmination of our calendar, not Christmas. We are still in the beginning.

My family doesn't usually put up a Christmas tree until around the 23rd, and I don't listen to Christmas carols until Christmas Eve. I don't refuse to participate in secular/cultural Christmas events/traditions before then, but Christmas as religious practice is twelve days for us, starting the 25th. I have time to make room, to prepare. I'm listening to Advent music now, to ground myself in time. I don't say this because I think everyone should necessarily do this (by all means, find room for joy wherever you can), but because an Advent value that I find meaning in is patience. Christmas exists, joy exists, salvation exists—but what happens in the time before those things? What happens if we're not there yet, if we perhaps have to wait our whole lives? We do not know the future, but there are things we can see, and even more things we can trust in. How can we practice hoping for it all?

This year I'm reading Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas (the last gift my grandfather gave me), and it's marking my days in a similar way candles do—connecting me with the world, setting aside time, bringing me back to why I exist the way that I do. There are countless devotional/topical books out there—as well as Watch for the Light, I would recommend Preparing for Christmas by Richard Rohr and Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation by Luci Shaw (which can double as a Lenten/Easter book as well). I'm also looking forward to reading in future years Celtic Advent by David Cole and WinterSong by Madeleine L'Engle & Luci Shaw.

If you don't usually attend worship services, Advent is a lovely time to start—it's the new year, after all! My city has a caroling night downtown, and you could look for similar events in your community. You could also start new worship traditions—my uncle hosts a Christmas carol singing circle every year, and his apartment is squished full of happy people, some Christian and some not, singing until the neighbors complain.

Speaking of the new year, that's what this is for many of us, and one way we can acknowledge that is by thinking about the past year and/or the year to come. What was last Advent like for you? Where are you now? Why are you seeking out more ritual this year? Are there future seasons in the church year that you want to further observe? What joy and grief and community do you see on the road ahead of you? What can you not even begin to imagine? Advent can be a beginning for all of it, if you let it. And Advent is the ultimate time to contemplate the past and the future—as we remember Jesus coming two thousand years ago, as we experience him every day, and as we look to a second coming that none of us understand but can occasionally stand to ponder.

There are the little things, too—writing Christmas cards is very ritualistic for me, as well as making gifts, and preparing for Christmas in a material way, especially if it's for others, can be a lovely ritual! Volunteering, preparing a home, creating, writing, taking a walk--anything, really, can be a ritual if we do it purposely. We don't always have to add something to our life—we can live something we already live in a new way.

And then there's the other kind of practice: emptying. We talk about this most when we encounter Lent, but I think there's a place for it here, too (and always). I don't mean abandon our responsibilities/hobbies/relationships, but most of us have too much. It is a blessing to have, but it can also be a blessing to let go. Many of us overwork ourselves during December, at work, at school, financially, socially, around the house. I've learned to look at busy-ness as a gift, but I also work to not fill up my life until there's no room for the season. There are people who fast during Advent, but there are other ways to make space in our lives to fill up with God, and Advent encourages us to spend time in that space. God is coming, a thief in the night, a late guest, an overlooked baby. Do you have room? Do you still have the attention span and energy? Will you even notice?

Christmas is many things to many people, and preparing for it is similarly diverse. I'm carrying a lot of grief with me this year, from both family and world tragedy. I know a lot of people who feel pressured to be happy during the holidays, and that breaks my heart—and it also makes me wonder how much having a ritualistic Advent since I was a kid has helped me avoid that. Happiness was never a value my family held—it was beautiful, but not inherently holy. Emotions come and go. Love exists infinitely, and patience and hope can be practiced and lived out regardless.

There are so many traditions, especially in the US, that leave people hungering for ritual and material practice—I've found a lot of physicality in Lutheranism, similar to my Catholic family, but I know there are those who have never really had that. When we seek ritual, it's often because there's something (or many things) in our practice either growing up or currently that we don't have and seek—whether that's the sensory experiences of incense and stained glass, the daily habits of rosary or novena, the liturgical practice of seasons and services, choral and hymn-singing, contemporary music, contemplation, academia, casualness, relatability, mystery, social justice, huge gatherings, tiny meetings, or any of the other Christian experiences that usually traditions don't or can't have all at once. When we seek ritual, we seek what we don't have, but often find what we already have as well. So many things are rituals that we take for granted because we've always had them or gotten used them. Seek new rituals, and seek what is already in your life that you can decide to do. Take your traditions, and find the traditions you didn't receive but hunger for, and make a life. You have time—Advent happens every year, and as far as we know and can hope, we will have many more Advents.

Ultimately, ritual is doing it all on purpose. It's finding rhythm. So much of our lives are accidental, and this can be beautiful and holy, but you have come seeking the things we invite. And yet even things that happen to us can become purposeful, as Mary teaches us: "Let it be with me according to your word." Whether she had a choice is sometimes discussed, but to me often the more relevant question is how she dealt with what came her way. Ritual is taking what we are given and doing it on purpose, and Advent gives us a long tradition, passed down through generations, of active waiting. We have no choice but to wait for the future, but today we will do it with our eyes open. Act as if the world is going to turn upside down—and you will notice it is, all the time.

In Watch for the Light, Henri Nouwen writes, "A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us. Impatient people are always expecting the real thing to happen somewhere else and therefore want to go elsewhere. The moment is empty. But patient people dare to stay where they are. Patient living means to live actively in the present and wait there. Waiting, then, is not passive. It involves nurturing the moment, as a mother nurtures the child that is growing in her."

Whatever rituals you invite in or find that you already have, however you nurture the moments that make up this season, I pray they make room in your heart for what God can bring. As Rilke tells us (in teaching how to approach art, but what else are the mysteries of this season?), "Everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity."

<3 Johanna

[dokidokitsuna]

...I just remembered I wanted to make my own statement on the AI thing. ^^;

So you've probably heard, but in case you haven't: Tumblr just sold out everyone's data to the AI trash compactors, they probably did it long before they gave us the option to opt out, and even if you do opt out they're probably still taking and using your work anyway (telling people to opt out instead of actually asking for their permission is already scummy business practice, but when it comes to AI it's functionally meaningless. :/ It's always "well, we're telling them not to use these people's data and we're hoping they'll be nice and go along with it" with no regulations or consequences if they decide to just steal everything indiscriminately...)

Despite that, I am not leaving Tumblr anytime soon. I'm looking into other sites*, but at this moment in time, I have nowhere else to go. ^^; Besides, I still like it here. When I left DeviantArt I was already getting sick of the place, having my art stolen regularly by "fans" and paradoxically getting less and less interest in my work over time. By the time the devs turned the website into eye-blinding slop with Eclipse, I was more than ready to move on.

But I still enjoy using Tumblr. I like writing long text posts that no one would bother to read anywhere else, I like answering asks, and I like the unique sense of humor and style among the users here. ^^ It would take a lot to force me out.

Also, I can take a little solace in the fact that AI-bros do not value "low-quality" art like mine. ^^; If messy cel-shaded sketches with visible pixels ever become popular, then I'll worry, but for now I think it's highly unlikely that anyone will want to wholesale regurgitate my art. If anything, I think prioritizing it in their datasets would only make them worse...and on that note, if you do have "high quality" detailed/painterly/semi-realistic art that would be targeted, I'd recommend 'poisoning' it with Nightshade/Glaze. Although I heard a rumor a while back that AI is "building immunity" to Nightshade and already learning to work around it, but I'm really hoping that was just a wishful lie from the trash compactors themselves. I haven't heard it repeated since then, so I think it's still worth a shot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So anyway, like the post I reblogged said, I think the best thing we can do now is to make it clear that WE DON'T WANT AI ART. We don't care how easy it'll be to instantly generate thousands of hours of mindless 'content' to look at; we don't want it. Since regulation is lagging so far behind (wanna know why Disney's copyright hounds didn't shut this down on sight? Most likely, they're hoping to profit from it down the line) the only way to fight this right now is with individual litigation and consumer demand.

Don't support projects made with AI**; don't hate-watch them or spotlight them. Focus your energy on the millions of human artists who are still here, and need your support now more than ever.

*I've heard people mention moving to Twitter and/or Artstation: fam, you're jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. ^^;;; IIRC, Arstation was one of the FIRST art sites to start flirting with AI, and Twitter has been selling off its users' data for several months already. Go there if you must, but don't go under the impression that it's "safer".

**Please keep a cool head when discussing AI art, and keep in mind that it used to mean something other than "mass theft". Artists have and still do create AI tools that are built on limited data sets with permission/compensation, that are used to aid them in their work and encourage human artistry (Vocaloids and DAW's, for instance) rather than stamp it out. Until a specific word evolves into popular use for exploitative AI, we're kinda stuck with this confusion, so remember to get the facts before you speak out.

P.S. Praying every night that this is a dumb fad that will soon die and go to the same hell as NFTs. >_< Praying every morning that the influx of AI art into its own datasets will eventually corrupt itself and make it useless. >_< >_< Praying every afternoon for both at once! >_< >_< >_< Like to charge, reblog to cast, all that

[historia-vitae-magistras]

butt?

I had to substitute it for arse, sorry. Exploratory fic I began to explore some character dynamics and what the lifestyle of 4 growing nations and their mother in their last real time together would be like in a slightly Post-Roman Iron Age estate as the Migration period picks up and Germanic peoples cross the North Sea to make a home. I believe of these earlier themes have their origin with @balladofthewhitehorse.

5th Century AD, Cumbria

"Rhys," Alasdair appeared at the fence line, his face gloomy. Rhys had stopped here for his mid-day meal halfway between where the shepherds had herded the sheep in the northernmost glen and their home behind on the hill. It'd been a long two days in the hills. He offered the cider flask to his brother as Alasdair approached, his frown deepening. It wasn't raining, and the day's work wouldn't have been hard. Bad news, then. It was always bad news.

"What is it this time?"

"Rot in the south store."

"Oats, rye or wheat?" Rhys asked. The rye they might go without, but the rain hadn't come so early that anything else should rot.

"Oats,"

"Fuck." Rhys sat on the low wall of flagstones and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck,"

He glanced up. His brother looked even more dour. "Gods, what else?"

"Seven horses," Alasdair said, sitting beside Rhys, boneless and upset.

Rhys gaped at him. "Seven? That's three more than were sick yesterday!"

"It's spreading." Alasdair shrugged helplessly. "I took the healthy ones into the third stables, and it didn't help."

"Is it distemper?"

"I didn't think so," Alasdair said. "They weren't so feverish, and there wasn't pus, but now I don't know.

"So, no horses to sell this year. At least half the oats are gone."

"Rhys." Alasdair's ingot grey gaze fell heavily, and Rhys glanced at his brother.

"I know," He said, and Alasdair didn't look convinced. He looked at his elder brother with a firm look. "I know."

"If we can't pay the tributes…"

He thought of the mustached helmets of the German kings and exhaled. "We don't know that we can't pay. There's plenty to sell."

"It's not just a lack of goods I'm worried about. It's been a bad year for everyone. There might not be anyone to sell to."

"There must be," Rhys said, pulling his cloak tighter over his shoulders. "There will be. We'll figure it out."

"I suppose all we can do is pray," Alasdair said.

Rhys frowned. Alasdair was the one with a mind for numbers, but he always worried, and they always managed before. So what if the horses would not fetch the total price if they were ill come market day? There was still the wool, the fine worked saddles he and Alasdair had made the year before, and plenty of cattle, sheep, honey and mead to sell. There were options. They had options.

"I'll see to the horses; if none of them die, we'll be fine," Alasdair said. "We have ore too. I might get a good price for my boar spears."

"Maybe," Rhys said. His hope was teetering precariously on the assumption that his brother was overly worried.

There was an unspoken sense of doom between them, both praying their worries were unfounded. Rhys grimaced after they parted ways at the outer gate, Alasdair marching off to the stables and Rhys to the poultry yard and the hives. One of the women in his mother's service alerted him to the fact that another of the hives had gone dark with rot. Honey was expensive, and now there wouldn't be enough to sell and use themselves over the long winter. Rhys waved her off with a pinched-off smile.

He stood in the poultry yard for a long moment, leaning against the half gate that kept the hens, quail, and ducks safe in their enclosure and away from the hounds. He watched Arthur tumble after a goose, laughing as it squawked and ducked him. Their dinner pail of scraps and grain was sitting neglected as he played, but Rhys looked on, letting him play. They'd have to keep more honey than what he'd wanted to sell, if only for Arthur's sake. Honey cakes with stored apples and cheese or on bread were one of those precious things that would cheer him when the worst of the winter gloom gripped him worse than any of them. Arthur rolled to a halt, cackling as the goose bobbed angrily and finally noticed him.

"Rhys!" He grinned, leaping to his feet and making a beeline for him. He exhaled a loud "oomph" as Arthur knocked into him, throwing his arms around him. "You're back!"

"I was only gone a night," He laughed. "How is Mother? And where is your cloak? Have you lost it again?"

"The same," Arthur said. "Maybe a little better. She laughed this morning when I fell right on my arse out of bed. Bridgie pushed me."

"Good! And you probably deserved it. You kick in your sleep." He replied, and his smile was genuine. Mother had at least made an effort to shake her recent gloom then. She'd been thinner, paler, and sadder than he'd ever seen her in the last few years, and it hadn't gotten any better as the days became shorter. "And your cloak?"

"I forgot it!"

"You'll catch your death." Rhys ruffled his hair. "Hurry and feed the birds and come in for dinner."

[deeptrashwitch]

*leaves the snippet over the table* I don't know why this arrived, but I had fun writing this! Hope you enjoy it!

Well, now looking at the landscape and seeing only forest around them, is sure to say that they are lost. Luke tried to figure out a path to follow while Alicia tried to find something that could tell them where they were. And when they shared looks, none of them could hold back their laughter, laughing loudly.

"We aren't even in the fucking country we're supposed to" Alicia murmured, calming herself "where did we end in?"

"Beats me" Luke said, standing up with a smile "but hey, at least it isn't winter in the north"

"...Okay, fair enough, but this is the last time I follow you"

"Follow me?! I was following you!"

"What?! But you saw I was checking something!"

"I thought it was the route!"

"Why the route would look like a goddamned disk?!"

"I don't know! Have you seen the things people sell now?!"

"Whatever, so now we are lost and without a clue of where we are"

"Yeah, it's pretty much it" he murmured "at least we have some things with us, but definitely we aren't fully equipped"

"Alright, we have two options from here. We wait for Wraith and the rest to find us..." she stated with a smile "or we walk without knowing where the fuck are we going until we find where we need to be"

"We'll end up in jail if someone finds my gun and your knife"

"That's true, and maybe we'll fight God knows what"

"...Let's go, if you stay behind, I'll sell you"

"Bitch please, they'll give me more for you than what they'll give you for me"

Like that they started to walk with a mischevious smile, just following a compass to try and find a place to get to the country they need to be into. The hours passed and they walked many kilometers between some chit chat and bad jokes, and at first they arrived to a cliff. Then they continued going west, seriously wondering where were they, praying not to find anything dangerous.

Surprisingly, they ended in Morocco, and it went like this...with Alicia running across part of the desert, and Luke unconscious over her shoulders as a potato sack. At some point they almost stole a motorcycle until they climbed to a roof, where they started argue about what to do now. That until the red-haired remembered someone he knew over there, just hoping he wouldn't shoot him when they encountered.

And now, six days later, they just stared at the far look of the Forbidden City. Luke couldn't do anything but giggle while Alicia sighed with her hands over her face, wondering why they were like that. Soon they decided to go and eat something, just looking the city in silence while they waited for the food.

To no one surprise, a well known figure arrived to the place, making Alicia sigh and Luke give her a pat on the back. Xiao Chen forcefully smiled while she sat down by their side, ordering some food as well before looking at the two American soldiers.

"I wonder what are you doing here, and with your Lieutenant no less" she hissed, irritated

"I have no idea" Alicia said, drinking her tea

"...What?"

"I'm not sure how we ended here, we were in Monaco"

"In Monaco? What were you doing in Monaco?"

"She? Gambling" Luke admitted, holding back a laugh "me? Helping her"

"...Now I'm curious" Xiao Chen commented as the food arrived "talk and I'll consider not doing anything against you"

For a second they thought how to explain, but ended up just showing the weirdest part of all of it. Luke left over the table a diamond necklace and Alicia left a gold ring with an emerald and some diamonds as well, making Xiao Chen choke with her food as she tried not to laugh. The trafficant took both things to examinate it, raising an eyebrow with a little smile, then looking again at the soldiers.

"I don't judge, I would've took the opportunity too" she said with a chuckle "but I never expected you would attrack people like this"

"Huh?"

"Happens that I know the kind of people that give this like trinkets. They're multimillionares with nothing better to do with their lives, and they give this when they want to have sex with someone"

"WHAT!?" they shouted at unison, looking at her

"I'm just explaining, don't shoot the messenger" she remarked with a smile "and I'm guessing you arrived here on a yatch. Thank yourselves for being quick to get out of there, I've heard quite the bad rumors about these people"

"...If you don't tell her/him, I won't tell him/her" they said to each other

"Oh, this became better"

"We need to go back, I'm sure Jackson will kill us" Luke murmured with a sigh while Alicia stared to the void

"I know, but what do we do with...this?" she questioned pointing at the things over the table

"Well dear, I can help you with that" Xiao Chen intervened with a giggle "I'll give you the money for every single gem and for the gold grams. No complains, no scams"

Alicia raised an eyebrow, then changing to talk in mandarin to negociate with Xiao Chen, not buying the 'no scams' part. Meanwhile Luke just ate, only expecting that it wasn't a problem for them, they had enough already. When he was finishing his food, they shook hands with some satisfaction before the trafficant took the jewels with her and lwalked away leaving her part for the food.

"So, she won't steal it?"

"No"

"If you say so, and what now?"

"Call Graves to take us out of here"

"Graves?"

"He owes us for Las Almas"

"That's fair...wanna go to the Opera before that?"

"I like how you think"

When already was dark outside, they hopped into a helicopter that the mercenary sent, now with their bags filled with things they bought. Alicia gave Luke his account numbers and she took hers, then stayed in silence for a second. They looked at each other and started laughing, so much that their stomach started to hurt.

"So, we went lost in Spain, ended up in Morocco, made our way to Monaco and then to China" Alicia muttered with a tired smile "it only happens to us"

"And we won a ton of money not only in Monaco but here too, if we leave outside the...jewels incident" he added with a side smile "what will you do with that money?"

"I don't know"

Almost a day later they arrived to Black Tomb again, now welcomed by a furious Jackson who basically ran towards them muttering something. The medic started to smack them with a rolled newspaper while scolding them, at the same time everyone else just was watching without doing anything. Once again they shared a look and they started to giggle.

"Don't laugh, you idiots!" Jackson roared, smacking them again "you're fucking lucky that nothing happened to you or that we weren't on duty! You were supposed to arrive in Italy! Where were you?! I was this near to have a heart attack!"

"Sorry, sorry" Alicia said, trying to hold back her laugh "at least we didn't ended up stuck on a desert"

"Captain please!" Luke shouted before wheezing "it wasn't that bad!"

"Oh shut up, that was your fault"

"What?! What about-!"

"No, no, we said we wouldn't mention it"

"...What the fuck did you do?" Jackson asked, sighing heavily