#the last bit about the worm escaping from the fridge actually happened to me

[chrisbitchtree]

The Thrill of the Hunt

This got a little away from me, but I had to write something inspired by @psychicwarfarebaby headcannon about Billy hunting and fishing with Steve's father!

***

Billy had never met Steve’s dad before, but from what he’d heard, John Harrington wasn’t a bad guy, it was just that he and Steve had never connected. He’d had a lot of expectations for how Steve would be, and Steve never really met those expectations.

He’d dreamed of taking his son hunting and fishing and to football games at Notre Dame, and that just wasn’t what Steve was into. He liked to bake and go on nature walks with his mother and showed a talent for swimming and basketball early on, instead of John’s beloved football and baseball. He’d supported Steve as much as he could, but never stopped being disappointed when Steve continued to shoot down his attempts to share his interests with him.

Steve had told Billy that he felt bad about it, but it was too late to really change things. It was better to lead their separate lives, connecting in the few places that they could.

One of the connections they shared was their mutual love of Steve’s mom’s spaghetti and meatballs, always served with cheesy garlic toast. Every once in a while, she would take a Saturday and make the spaghetti noodles from scratch, fully indulging her husband and son. This was one such Saturday, and Billy had the honour of being invited.

He and Steve had been dating for about a year and a half, and he’d come over that particular afternoon to help Steve with his college admissions essays, which were frankly a bit of a mess. He found the other boy in the kitchen with his mother, kneading pasta dough. Billy was a regular enough fixture around the Harrington house at this point to not feel awkward around Steve’s mother. She greeted him as he grabbed a glass of water and sat down at the large kitchen island to wait for them to finish up.

“Hello, Billy! So nice to see you!” She had an extra pep in her step, and Billy was happy to see it.

“Wow, pasta from scratch! What’s the special occasion?” Mrs. Harrington grinned.

“Steve’s father is coming home this afternoon after a long business trip. I’m surprising him with his favourite meal. You’ve never met my husband, have you Billy? You must stay for dinner!” Steve shot a panicked look Billy’s way, shaking his head vigorously. Billy didn’t know what to do. Steve’s mom looked so excited. Against his better judgement, he agreed to stay.

“Of course, I’d love to stay for dinner. Anything you’ve made is bound to be delicious!” Steve’s mom beamed.

“Lovely! Why don’t you boys go up to Steve’s room and work on your project, and I’ll call you down when it’s time for dinner?” Before he could even verbally agree, Steve was pulling him up to his room. As soon as the door was closed, Steve let loose.

“Why would you agree to stay? This is going to be a mess. Things are always so awkward with my dad. Why do you think you’ve never met him before? It’s better to just keep things separate. Whatever you do, don’t engage him in conversation, don’t give drawn out replies. Politely nod or give one-word answers when he talks to you. Do. Not. Engage. I’ve warned you about him. This is your fault. If it goes bad, no blow jobs for a week. I swear.” What had Billy gotten himself into?

They worked on Steve’s essays for the next few hours, until they heard his mother call up the stairs, telling them it was time to wash up and come down for dinner. They washed their hands in the bathroom, then each took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

Steve’s father was pleasant enough if a bit hard on Steve about his lack of drive. He asked Steve how his college admissions were going, and how he was doing in his classes, promising to try to go to at least one of Steve’s basketball games this season.

Things took a turn for the worse when he turned his attention on Billy. Billy didn’t exactly have the world’s greatest dad, so he was always looking to please anyone who acted like a father figure, and add to it the fact that this was his boyfriends father, even if said father didn’t know that particular detail, and Billy was screwed.

“So Billy, do you like hunting? Deer season is coming up.” In an effort to please Mr. Harrington, Billy nodded his head yes.

“I love hunting, sir. My father goes most years, and he’s taken me a few times. There’s nothing like it.” Steve glared pointedly at him, but Billy couldn’t stop himself.

“I’d love to go with you sometime. Maybe Steve and I could accompany you some weekend.” This earned him a kick under the table from Steve.

“I’d love that, Billy, I really would. I’m a big hunter myself. Deer, moose, turkey, pheasant. I even got a bear once. Not the tastiest meat, I’ll say, but it’s a great story to tell. Has Steve showed you my collection of antlers?” He then turned his attention back to Steve.

“See Steve, you could learn a thing or too about being a real man from Billy here. I’m home for the next month. You and Billy will have to come with me to the hunt camp some weekend soon.” Steve looked downright miserable. Billy had to do something.

“Well, Mr. Harrington, as much as I’d love to go hunting with you, I don’t have my gun licence. My dad’s let me shoot the gun a few times, and I have a good shot, but let’s just keep that on the downlow, for legal purposes.” Billy was proud of his quick save. Steve’s dad could not be deterred.

“That’s an easy enough fix. You can take a gun course in a single weekend, and you’ll be ready to go!” Shit, Billy had really thought he’d gotten them out of it.

Steve was not impressed that he had to spend the whole next weekend learning gun safety with Billy, and no, he would not let that count as their date for the weekend, so on top of the course fees, Billy still had to pay for dinner and a movie to get Steve to grumble even a little bit less.

He’d also had to bribe Hopper into letting him borrow his hunting rifle by promising to babysit El for free for the next six Thursdays, so Hopper could have date nights with Joyce. All of his free time was quickly sliding through his fingers.

Then came the actual day of the hunt. They’d been up since 3am, when Steve had pulled the warm blankets off Billy in the spare bedroom, flipping on the lights and shaking him awake. He wasn’t even bothering to be gentle about it, and frankly, Billy didn’t blame him. They’d sat bleary eyed in the truck beside Steve’s dad, sipping coffee, and trying to seem even half as enthusiastic as he was.

They’d finally arrived at the hunt camp, and by 6am, they were on their bellies, out in the woods, in the dark, silent, waiting for any sign of a deer. They were both damp and cold and shivering, despite the multiple layers and hunting boots they both had on. Billy tried to grab Steve’s hand for a second as his father looked the other way, but the other boy yanked it away, and Billy could tell it wasn’t just because he was worried his father would see.

The night before, he’d tried to win back Steve’s favour with promises of foot massages, pastries from Steve’s favourite bakery, and hours of sex where Steve didn’t have to do anything but lay there and let Billy take care of him, but he was not having it. Billy knew the other boy was currently fantasising about waking up in his warm bed, followed by coffee and Froot Loops while he watched old cartoons in the den, and Billy had no way of giving him that.

The mood was slightly saved by the genuine excitement on Steve’s face when his father shot a big buck. He was downright delighted when Billy was tapped to help clean out the animal.

“Come on, Billy!” said Steve’s father, approaching where they sat, eating sandwiches, and drinking juice. “Help me string it up into the tree! I’ll let you do the honours of making the first cut!” Steve silently cackled as the colour drained from Billy’s face.

Steve really thought that Billy had learned his lesson. It seemed that he had, at least until the following spring, when Steve’s father was discussing the idea of taking the boys on a fishing trip. For some godforsaken reason, Billy enthusiastically agreed.

That’s how they ended up crawling around on their hands and knees in Steve’s backyard during the next big rainfall, toting plastic containers and flashlights, digging for worms. Steve’s father said that that was the mark of a true fisherman, resourcefulness. They didn’t need to purchase their worms from the store.

Steve didn’t feel even a little bit bad when the next morning, he raced downstairs to the sound of Billy squealing, only to find sim staring down at a worm that must have escaped from the bucket in the fridge. Served him right for being such an idiot.

[veryveryverytemporarily]

Wrote the second part of AU where Aaron moves into a flat share. This part is a bit angsty but then it will lighten up.

(You can read Part 1 first here )

Come sail your ships around me

There was a lot of milk left over so I made a quiche. Assuming you’re not actually allergic to fresh vegetables, I made enough for two. Better for you than take-aways. Please wash up the dish when you’ve done.

 Aaron’s eyebrows play as he reads the note. Alright - so he’s had the odd take-away since he moved in a couple of weeks earlier – it’s been an adjustment period. It’s not as if he lives on them. And, anyway what’s his housemate doing? - Going through the bins? It makes him wonder for a moment what else he’s been snooping through.

He leans over the quiche in question to examine it. Definitely something green in it. He wrinkles his nose. But on the other hand, the kitchen smells savoury and warm and good.

He washes his hands with a sigh under the kitchen tap, shrugs off his hi-vis.

He takes a spatula and places half the remaining quiche on a plate. Grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge and pops the lid. He treads lightly down the metal steps to the garden and sits at the bistro table.

With the sun shining through the leaves, he takes a first bite. It’s crisp and light and he inhales it, serenaded by the resident blackbird, goes back inside to fetch the rest.

 ‘Hello.’

He’s on the stairs when he hears the voice. It takes him a moment to locate it. There’s a bloke standing on the other side of the garden fence, who he wouldn’t be able to see except from this elevated position. The bloke has keys in one hand and a package wrapped in greaseproof paper in the other.

‘I’m Mike, your downstairs neighbour.’

‘Aaron,’ he nods introducing himself.

‘Lovely weather,’ Mike goes on. ‘Not that you and Robert get to see a lot of it. Have you settled in alright? He told me you were coming. You must be like ships in the night, the two of you. I suppose it’s one way to keep the interest alive?’ He smiles rather salaciously, then goes on, ‘Are you a foodie, too?’ Aaron watches his eyes travel wistfully to the plate in his hand. ‘You’ve fallen on your feet with that one!’

Mike’s mobile phone starts ringing and he fishes it from a pocket with the hand holding the keys. ‘I have to get this – possible job interview, but don’t let me keep you. You’ll have to come round for a beer one evening and tell me how you two met - maybe I can bag myself one!’ He cracks another grin. then looks down and says hello into his phone. From inside there’s the sound of barking as he disappears under the entrance porch into the house.

Aaron stands for a moment holding his plate.

Now there’s no one to see him, he pulls the corners of his mouth down. How well does this Mike know Robert? Clearly, well enough to pass judgement on his cooking. Whereas he, Aaron, who shares his space, has never even met him face to face. He can’t explain why but he feels a sudden irrational resentment of Mike the Neighbour.

 He watches an action film until bedtime and, after, sleeps fitfully, wakes suddenly, convinced he can smell fish and chips.

It sends him rolling down deep into a tunnel where he can’t breathe, and his heart rattles like a bird flung back and forth against the sides of a cage.

He sits up, arm pits running, turns on the lamp; it’s not enough so he climbs out of bed, crosses the room and turns on the big light.

He grabs the robe that isn’t his from behind the door and wraps himself in it, moves back and sits against the bed head, tugging the cover up.

His chin drops and he feels the tears smart from his eyes and run over his cheeks. Why is he still such a loser, letting himself get dragged down?

Was moving here was a massive mistake after all?  He’s out of sight. His Mum’s getting on with her life with Paddy, with the pub. Adam’s at the farm and probably going out with lasses. They’re probably glad he’s gone. And who can blame them?

He’s all adrift.

He casts about the room looking for something to distract him from the pain and the panic.

His eyes land on the book on the far bedside table. He clutches at it, bringing it near and gazes at the cover. Space Minotaur – he reads the blurred title. Frankly the illustration on the cover is ridiculous. He wipes his nose on his arm, opens the book where Robert has left a book mark, takes a cursory glance at the page. Somehow, he finds himself reading one sentence, then another.

This Ariadne is clearly in love with Captain Theseus and her father is a dick. He’s the real monster not the Minotaur. The captain has been tasked with saving the galaxy by defeating the Minotaur in a labyrinth of worm holes that will take him to a parallel universe. Will he ever get back? Aaron imagines himself as Ariadne as she implores him not to go. Theseus kisses her. It’s really nice. He turns the page.

There’s an erotic scene which Aaron skip reads, blushing wildly, but still impressed by Theseus’s pounding member.  Now Theseus has to go. Ariadne says she can help him trace his route back through space in his ship with thirty oars … the words start to swim in front of his eyes.

 He wakes cocooned in the robe.

The white pages of the open book beside him reflect the morning sun. Some of the pages are creased where he’s slept on them. He smooths them, places the book back carefully on the nightstand, gets up and goes to the bathroom to pee.

He thinks about Gordon. In the cool light of day, he can imagine that what happened, happened to someone else, not him. He remembers at work listening to the radio, he’d heard someone say how all the cells of your body replace themselves every seven to ten years. In which case he’s not the person all those things happened to anymore. He doesn’t have to be.

  I got you a bookmark of your own. Please don’t turn down the corner of the pages again, it ruins them.

PS. I made a larger tiramisu this time since I noticed you liked the last one. It’s in the labelled box in the fridge.

 He picks up the bookmark and inspects it. Time has moved on. Robert - well both of them now - are on book three of the Demigods in Space series, but this is from the first book: Aaron never did find out what happened to Theseus - whether he got back safely - because Robert presumably finished the story and replaced it before he had time.

The bookmark is just a flimsy rectangular strip of card. On one side there’s an illustration of the Minotaur framed by stars, on the other Captain Theseus. His impressive member is trapped inside some jazzy metallic space trousers; his face enigmatic, hidden by a helmet and visor except for some locks of escaping blond hair.

He frowns, takes the bookmark to the bedroom and lays it down on his table. All evening he’s conscious of it there - waiting for him to turn in for an early night.

[j0hn-deacons-perm]

Charcoal Dust

Female reader x Brian May

Word Count ~6,100. 

I had this fic sitting in my documents since August and re-reading it, I didn’t hate it. So I guess I’m posting it. A bit of a warning I suppose...it goes get slightly suggestive but not 18+..If you’re sensative to that sort of thing, maybe skip this one my dudes.

With the last flick of your eyeliner, you deem yourself ready to head out to the bar. Freddie wanted to let off some steam with finals and you couldn't help but to join in. The apartment you two share have been littered with projects and materials and he almost strangled you for not cleaning up your charcoal dust. With that being the straw which broke the camel's back, tonight is to just get shit faced and to have fun. At least Fred settled one a bar that isn't too much of a walk so you don't have to worry about driving. Grabbing your coat, you leave the complex and into the cold december night.

***

"Y/N, dearie, you're here! Finally the night can commence!"

Freddie runs to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

"The boys are here as well. Can't tell you how much work it took to get John out."

Your eyes settle on Deaky, already a bit drunk and waving at you with a grin. "Evenin' Y/N! How's it going?"

"Not as good as you from the looks of it. But I bet a couple drinks could fix that."

You turn to the bar and order your usual mix drink along with a round of shots for everyone. 

"Here's to having a good night amongst friends!"

"Cheers!"

Everyone downs their shot and you finally sit down, taking the empty spot next to Deaky. Roger and Brian seem to be in their own little world talking about something so you don't bother with that can of worms yet.

"Y/N, did you find a new model for your drawing yet?"

"Nope. That fucking Steven kid answered my ad, took my payment then just vanished. Won't answer the phone, haven't seen him around campus..I'm out like 80 quid and nothing to draw for my final."

"Ouch. What does it entail exactly?"

"I need to do a live nude model study."

Roger's ears seem to perk up with the mention of 'nude'.

"I can help you out with that, love."

Brian rolls his eyes and Freddie chuckles. 

"So, me buying you a shot doesn't get your attention but mentioning I need to draw a naked person does?"

"Well, yeah. You should know this by now."

"I thought alcohol and nudity were on the same tier of importance to you, Taylor."

"Close..but not quite."

You nod at him with a fake academic-like expression as you rub your chin.

"Right, so if anyone knows someone who would be down to model for me let me know."

"I just said I was!"

"Anyone but Roger."

"Oh! What about Brian, dear? He'd be a great model."

The man in question glares.

"Uh..Fred, I don't think so."

"Why ever the fuck not? I've seen you naked before, May. You'd be fantastic. Plus Y/N gets to see your cute little bottom and huge cock!"

His cheeks turn bright red.

"Absolutely not, Fred."

Freddie looks over to your face, laughing despite blushing profusely. He knows of your small crush on the guitarist and loves to relish in opportunities making you and Brian uncomfortable in hopes you two would actually do something. Much to his, and your disappointment, nothing ever happens.

"Well I would do it but I don't have the time in my schedule considering I'm going to be stuck in the art building working on my own shit. Now come on, don't subject her to Roger."

Brian looks over to you, finding you playing with a hem on your shirt, trying to distract yourself from the awkward conversation.

"Well we both know Bri's not going to do it, so when can I come over, love?"

With a slump of your shoulders, you face the blonde.

"It's not a sexual thing where I draw everything, you know. You're going to be in a pose you can hold for a long period of time while I focus on drawing mainly your prominent body landmarks like ribs, pelvis, and muscles along with bones."

"See, Bri? It's not a personal experience, she's just studying your anatomy. With how lanky you are, it'd be easy to see everything."

"I'll also pay you for your time. Might be a bit before I can get the money but you will be compensated. Also if it's too much for you, you can wear your underwear for most of it until I need to get a certain part."

He looks between you and Freddie, a sigh escapes his lips.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Freddie smirks at you and gives a wink before coming into to whisper in your ear.

"Just a heads up, I've seen him naked and you may have to draw three legs."

You turn bright red but can't help but to cackle at his comment. Brian rolls his eyes and says 'fucker' under his breath. 

*** A couple drinks turn to quite a few and talking with Brian ended up with the date, time and place for your drawing session. Now that three days have passed, the time arrives along with four knocks on the door. 

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey Bri, thank you so much again for doing this for me."

He looks around the living room and sees you've set up your workspace: an easel, one of the living room chairs and one of the end tables with your box of drawing utensils. He also looks at how it's pointed towards the sofa with a sheet draped on it. 

"How would you like me?"

"Comfortable. You'd probably be stuck in that spot for a while. I have pillows if you want 'em."

He nods and sits down on the sofa while you go towards the record player and pop on one of your favorite records.

"I like to work to music so hope you're okay listening to the Beatles for a few hours."

"Why would I complain about good music?"

You chuckle as you sit down in your spot, making any last minute adjustments to the easel's height. Turning your head to the sofa, you see him unbuckling his belt before slipping his shirt off. Back towards you. 

Freddie was right, he has a good figure to make this assignment easy for you. Despite trying to stay professional, it's hard to not check out your crush as he strips. When the pants start slipping off, you turn away, too shy to look anymore. 

He is your friend, Y/N...he is your friend who is helping you with a project. Don't make this weird..

But then you remember your roll of tape for the sheet so when it's break time, you won't lose the pose. 

Shit...

"Hey Bri, once you settle on a pose, would it be okay if I put some tape around you so we don't lose the pose after we take a break?"

"Yeah, that's okay. I also might take you up on that pillow offer."

"Sounds good, I'll be right back."

You smile as you get up and leave for your bedroom to grab him a couple pillows off your bed. When you walk back into the living room, you swear the air has shifted once you see him laying in his underwear on the couch, watching the record spin on the turn table. A knot forms in your stomach..

You're working on your final, you're working on your final, you're working on your final.....

You walk up towards him and hands him the pillows. He promptly adjusts them to fit his pose.

"This alright for your composition, Y/N?"

"Let me check."

You sit down back in your chair and look at what you can see. You can see many of the body's landmarks..ribs, collar bones, muscles, parts of the pelvis...but not the strongest for a good composition.

"The pose is fine but I'm going to move over a bit to get a more interesting angle of ya."

You scoot your set up closer towards the turntable, giving a more dynamic angle of your model.

"Alright, we're looking good. Just need to tape where you're at and we can get started."

Hands slightly shaking on the masking tape roll, you rip pieces off and place them where Brian's posed. It's easy to tell he's tense.

"Bri, you're welcome to chat during this if you want. And whenever you want to take a break to stretch out, do not hesitate to ask."

"Sounds good, love. I guess I'm ready when you are."

He's called you love before but now it seems a bit different...

HE IS JUST HELPING YOU ON YOUR FINAL PROJECT, STOP IT

You rub over your paper pad, sighing and grab your hard charcoal to get the initial lines and shapes in. You can see him closing his eyes once more marks land on your paper. His shoulders also slowly begin to become less tense. 

*** Two full albums later, Brian calls break time. You clean your hands off on your pants and set your charcoal back in its box next to you. Having the main structures done and angles correct, you feel good about the progress. 

"How's it coming along, love?"

"I think maybe another hour or so and we'll be good."

"Can I sneak a look or is it confidential?"

You nod your head for him to take a look, his presence now behind your back as he analyzes your work. Nerves become more apparent the longer he's silent. You're about to look over your shoulder until you hear him say

"I'm really liking it so far, Y/N. Fred's told us about your work and it's incredibly articulate. However it is odd knowing that's me on your paper."

You blush profusely at his compliment, even more so now that you realize he's extremely close to your body wearing just underwear. 

"Well how about I grab you a robe and I'll make us some coffee?"

"Sounds lovely to me, especially since seeing how you're fully clothed, I'm a bit vulnerable."

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable! Let's get that robe."

"I'm not uncomfortable, just a bit cold maybe."

Leaving for your room once again, you grab your robe. It might be a bit too short for the gentle giant in your living room but it's better than nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't give me Fred's."

"You don't want it, trust me."

He laughs, tying the belt around his middle and follows you into the small kitchen to grab his favorite mug whenever he visits. The silence grows more comfortable as you hear the coffee drip into the small pot and another cabinet opens to grab the sugar. You open the fridge to grab the milk. Your pour the hot liquid as he adds the sugar to the two mugs, followed by the splash of milk you like in yours. Smiles meet each other and you two sit back in the living room, a new record begging to be played. 

"Want more Beatles or how about just some John? I have Plastic Ono Band and Imagine."

"Oh god, that's a decision isn't it?"

"It really is. I'm half tempted to just put Hard Day's Night on."

"Did you see that in theaters? The girls went absolutely mad."

"With that scene with John in the bath? I'm sure I still have hearing issues from that. It got even worse seeing Help."

"George bit?"

"George bit."

Laughs echoed amongst the walls, sharing knowing glances at how loud the shrieking was. 

"Have to love sort of shared traumatic experiences. But I'm intrigued, who is your favorite of the four?"

"The Beatles or Queen?"

A slight smirk dances across his lips.

"Beatles? When I was younger, Paul. In more recent years, has to be John. I really respect his political work and his solo albums are so personal and raw."

He nods at your answer, agreeing.

"But with you lot? No one. Don't tell Freddie that, he'll plant something in my bed."

He answers in a hearty laugh.

'It's not like I can say you before we get back to working on a naked drawing of you...'

*** With Lennon playing on the speakers and more charcoal on paper, you're back at it again. Brian somehow managed to get himself back into the same pose with one or two directions from you. Things are now going easier considering the drawing is now just filling in the blanks until you couldn't get one detail right due to it being covered by his underwear. The more you try to remember how the muscles and bone look, the more incorrect it looks to your eyes. The inevitable needs to happen.

"Hey Brian, I'm hating to ask this but uh...I can't get the lower abs to look right with the pelvis. Could you....takeyourunderwearoff."

The last part just rushed past your lips as fast as you could. Your cheeks are bright red, a tell tale sign being how hot your face just became. It's even worse when he arches his brow.

"What was that last part?"

You sigh deeply.

"Could you...take your underwear off so I can get your pelvis a bit better?"

"Oh...uh, yeah."

His cheeks probably match yours but you cover your eyes while he strips the last bit of cloth standing between him being completely exposed in front of you.  

"Alright Y/N, you can look now."

His nervous laughter is puntuated with your eyes opening again. While you have a clearer view of the muscles in question, you also have a clearer view of other things.

You now understand why it's called a happy trail. 

Correcting his angles once again, you start where you just left off. Only to have the record stop playing, meaning you had to stand up and change the music. Meaning probably a clear view of his, what Freddie called, 'his third leg'. Hands slightly shakey as they remove the vinyl and put it back in its respective sleeve. Fingers lead their way towards Revolver, your go-to homework album. Once the intro of Taxman plays, you make your way back to your seat. During which, your peripheral vision does you dirty. 

Fred wasn't entirely kidding. Dear god, Y/N, you're almost done just finish your damn project so Bri can go home and you can take a cold shower...

You sit back down and sigh, taking your charcoal and getting back to work, correcting any inaccuracies caused by his underwear being in the way and adding more to his figure. Side one is over far too soon, causing you to get up and be betrayed by your eyes once again.

At least now it's just adding a bit of definition to the head and small details. Taking the blunt end of your charcoal stick, you begin adding some hair to the drawing. The couple hairs on his chest, a gesture of pubic hair and some messy lines for the curls on top of his head. Staring at his face now, he peeks his eyes open and winks at you then smiles. 

"I thought you weren't going to draw my face?"

"Just a little something so it's not just a blank shape."

"Alright. Do you want my eyes open or closed?"

"Do what you want, Bri."

His eyes land on the legs of your easel, moving them around a bit to follow the smudges of paint and charcoal about. Your eyes trace along the angles of his face, adding them to the basic head shape you added during the beginning steps. Browbone, cheeks, nose, eyes, brows, and gesture of his slightly open mouth put down on paper as you mark it done. Looking at the lower right corner of your paper and taking your thin marker, you write your name, class session, semester, and model's first name. 

"Alright Bri, I think we're good to go. Want to come take a look?"

Standing up and putting your robe back on, he walks behind the chair. His eyes take in the final composition, from the pillows to his curls all the way down to how to managed to get the angle right on his feet. The sofa, while made of basic abstract shapes, make him look like he's properly weighed out on the cushions. 

"It's weird seeing me like that."

"I bet. Talking with some of the models outside of class, they tell me it takes some getting used to seeing shit like this."

"Seeing what others see in your naked body is very...daunting. I think you made me look too good to be honest."

"I just drew what I saw, May."

You look up behind you and catch him blushing, looking down at you while smiling.

"You are incredibly talented, Y/N. If you don't get an A, I'm taking personal offense with your instructor."

You blush hard at the compliment while laughing at his comment. 

"Honestly, I would too. You made a beautiful model, Bri. It was an honor to draw you."

Why did I just say that?..

He looks away, face looking shy. He takes compliments almost as bad as you. He sits down back on the sofa, looking at you.

"Now, you did say at the bar that I'd be compensated for my time."

"That I did."

You start to pack away your drawing supplies before digging a can of hairspray out of your backpack. Spraying a light coat over your drawing, you let it dry before packing it away for safe keeping.

 His eyes watch you dismantle your workspace, showing him something you've done nearly a hundred times over. Little did you know, seeing you in your element like this made his heart swell. Brian knew you were an art student but never saw you at work. Little did he know, yours did the same when you saw him at practice or on stage. After cleaning up and putting furniture back in their right spots, you sit down in the chair to only find Brian patting the cushion next to him. Giving him a fake glare, you sit next to him. 

"I've been thinking of payment and would it just be fine if we ordered some take away and hung out? I'd feel bad taking your money."

"You sure? I'd feel bad not compensating you for your time."

"Y/N, I laid on your couch, chatted with you and listened to my favorite music. Yeah it was a bit weird considering I take a girl out before she sees me naked but hey."

You laugh nervously at his joke, blushing for probably the 53rd time that night.

"I'll get dressed and we'll head out, that good for you?"

"Yeah. I need to change clothes anyway."

"Why? You look cute covered in charcoal."

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest like a looney toons character. You and the guys are used to calling eachother cute or handsome but something about him being just about naked underneath your robe after drawing him for nearly two hours makes your heart race at a dangerous pace. 

"Let's get ready, hmm?"

He stands up, clothes in tow as he walks to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing brings you back to the moment. Grabbing your pillows and sheet off the couch, you leave for your room. The slight smell of him lingering on the fabric fills your nostrils as you throw it towards your laundry basket. 

"Goddammit...don't get your hopes up. It's not like this is a date, Y/N..." You whisper under your breath. 

Grabbing the clothes you wore earlier today, you get dressed and apply a little extra deodarant and perfume. By the time you've put your shoes on and out of your room, he's slipping his shoes on. Even in mid-December, he's wearing his clogs. He hears your laughter from across the room.

"What's so funny?"

"Bri, it's Christmas in nearly two weeks and you're wearing clogs? If you slip on ice thanks to those things, I’m not helping you up."

"It hasn’t snowed yet, though! Have to wear them while there's still time. Besides, look who's bloody talking wearing canvas sneakers in the cold."

"At least my entire foot is in the shoe."

"That's it, I'm not letting you borrow my scarf if it's still windy. Not with that attitude."

You smack his arm and grab your purse off the coat rack. Locking the door behind you is the last thing before you two leave for any place that is still serving food at this hour. 

***

Only getting as far as a corner store, you two buy a couple drinks then enough snacks to constitute a meal. The walk back to the apartment was on the quiet side, Brian looking up to the sky every few blocks in a vain attempt to see any stars that would accompany the moon shining that night. Not much for viewing besides the waxing moon hanging above your heads, hundreds of thousands miles away. 

"Hey Bri?"

His features seem almost guilty, being caught in the act but he smiles at you.

"Would it be possible for you to teach me some things about what's up there? Fred's showed me some astrology stuff but it would be kinda cool seeing the constellations and what makes them, y'know?"

"I'd just talk your ear off."

"Can't be too bad, I deal with that already."

You wink as he rolls his eyes. 

"But I'm serious, I want to know a little bit about what you study in uni. Especially since we go to different schools, it'd be interesting seeing another side of academics that isn't just color theory or how to mathematically draw cylinders."

"How do you mathematically draw cylinders?"

"It's all about angles and where it sits in space, mostly. Getting that perspective correct. After enough practice I guess you can just sort of see it rather than drawing out all these different grids and lines."

"Does that tie in with drawing people?...That's probably a stupid question of course it does."

"It does but with that, you also need to keep in mind where things in the body are. In our class we also have to do these...sculpting lessons. We're given half a skeleton on a stand and we sculpt the muscles using clay."

He nods, listening to you talk about your coursework and your subject matters from basics to more focused studies. Once back to your apartment, you find Freddie has returned from the art building. The noises of you and Brian taking off shoes and coats made him pop his head around the wall.

"Y/N, lovie, how did your drawing session go?"

"Rather well! Want to see it?"

"Well of course, dear!"

You grab your and Brian's bags from the corner store and place it on the kitchen counter before heading over to your drawing pad, propped up against your chair. Nerves arise as you watch his eyes gaze over your work, the smell of the hairspray you used seal in the charcoal floating to your nostrils. 

"Fucking hell, this is brilliant. If you get a bad mark I'm visiting your professor during office hours and giving them a piece of my mind."

He looks down Brian's legs on the paper, your careful contour lines elegantly outlining the muscles. 

"I think you forgot a leg, though."

Brian's rolls his eyes as Fred's cackle fills the room. You slap the sketchpad closed and return it to it's spot next to your school bag. A sympathetic look is aimed towards your model. 

"Come on you two, lighten up. How about a game of Scrabble, hmm?"

"It is getting a little late, Fred, and Brian has to get back to his place."

"He knows he's welcome to crash on the couch if he wants."

The man in question looks between you two, biting his lip in thought.

"I wouldn't mind crashing here tonight. I'm sure Roger wouldn't mind the flat to himself."

"Then it's settled. You old ladies get your food out of the kitchen and we start this game."

What wasn't expected was Brian winning with such a lead. You could've sworn you've seen Fred's eyes glow red as he told the curly haired man to get out of his home for disrepecting him that severely. He went to bed infuriated as he left you two out in the living room to watch TV. 

"You sure you want to spend the rest of your Friday night here?"

"It's technically Saturday morning now."

"Smart ass."

He smiles and slowly leans towards you on the sofa, his warmth sneaking up the arm closest to him. 

"Hey Bri?"

He hums in response, eyes not leaving the program painting the screen.

"I never really properly thanked you for helping me with my assignment. You honestly saved my grade modeling for me."

He turns his head to face you, eyes looking at yours illuminated by the screen's light.

"You're more than welcome, love. It was interesting watching you work. You have this little face you make when you're really concentrated."

"Where I don't blink and my mouth is partially open? That's my focusing amphibian look."

He chuckles.

"Roger does the same thing but that's his confused look."

"I thought his confused face was this.."

You imitate the face you've seen many times during your homework sessions with the boys. Also when he tries to understand what Fred wants to do add extra flair to shows or songs.

"No, you're right. That's the one." He laughs. 

Comfortable silence floats around the air as you two continue watching telly. Thirty meants turn into 90 as the episodes of various shows play before you. Slight comments here and there said but it wasn't until Brian laid his head on top of your head that something was really spoken. 

"I have a question."

"Care to share with the class, May?"

You can feel his cheeks stretch out with a slight smile.

"Would you think less of me if I put my studies on hold when, or even if the band gets bigger? I know we only have one album out at the minute but I've thought about it and..."

Patting his knee, you spoke.

"I could never think less of you for persuing something like that. You and the guys have worked your asses off and if, no, when your hardwork pays off, grab those opportunities. You earned any success that comes your way."

He moves his head to look directly into your eyes.

"Knowing you, you'll eventually get your PhD but sometimes life throws you a curveball and you have to just roll with what it gives you. If it's Queen, then see it through."

Surprise washes over you as he gives you a hug, enveloping you in his arms tightly as his face creates a home in the crook of your neck. This breath along your skin giving away to goosebumps. 

"I've been thinking about this for weeks and um...."

"Did you already drop out, Bri?"

"No, no..."

"Uh huh..." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Seriously, Y/N, I haven't dropped out of uni. I've been thinking about...."

You pull away and look at his eyes directly, cheeks flushed even in the low light of the living room. 

"What is it?"

He sighs, looking down at his lap.

"You."

Eyes going wide, you look at anything but him. The stray floaty in the air, the reflection of light as a car drives past your flat, the one stray strand of yarn or whatever it is sticking out of the rug on the floor. 

"I'm not saying this because you drew me naked and I'm feeling obligated to but tonight made me realize something."

Your eyes finally focusing on your hands, fingernails picking at cuticles. 

"If this does become something larger than life, I don't want to leave you behind. When Freddie introduced us to you last year, there was something about you I couldn't shake off. I wasn't sure what it was the chalk pastel dust you were covered in or something else."

You smile at his words but your heart doesn't lighten up the speed at the rate it's beating. When it comes loose, it's going to skyrocket across the English channel.

"But now actually getting to know you over time and tonight made me come to the conclusion that....I certainly have feelings for you and I don't know what you want to do with that information."

Your fingers stop picking at a loose bit of skin on the side of your nail and you swear your heart just stopped in your chest. Eyes wide, you stare at him. Mouth agape, not knowing what to say other than just "Bri..."

"I can see I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Maybe I should head ho-"

As he begins to stand up, you grab his wrist and pull him right back down towards your side. 

"Meeting you was one of the most profound days in my life, Bri. You...fuck,...I'm not a wordsmith and I'm nervous as all hell right now."

He smiles ever so slightly but his leg bounces with such vigor you wouldn't be surprised if your downstairs neighbor complained to the landlord tomorrow.

"And now hearing you may have feelings for me? Like...how do I even process this when it's something I've been wanting to hear for almost a year?"

It's now his turn for his eyes to buldge open in shock.

"When you first talked to me about astrophysics and I saw your entire demeanor light up with such passion, my heart damn near stopped. I couldn't focus on anything else but you. Even when you're just relaxed I feel like that. You're breathtaking and I'm pretty sure I went comotose and had a lucid dream seeing you perform with the boys for the first time."

He smiles, eyes looking directly into yours as your mouth just vomits out any word you promised to never let out.

"I've fallen for you so hard. I love your smile and laugh. I love the slope of your nose. I love that you've let your hair be curly because let's be real, you looked real questionable when you straightened it."

He laughs and you can tell his cheeks are heating up.

"I love that little noise you make when you find something interesting in your textbooks and your hums when you're thinking of a new song and your little eyerolls at the boys when they're being dumbasses and your sense of humor and just......fuck, look at you! You're so fucking handsome and that's even with the clogs!"

He grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs against the knuckles. His smile shining so bright even with the low light from the television that's now taken a backside seat of your conversation. He looks down at your entertwined hands.

"Calling you a friend and wanting to see you has gotten me out of bed so many days Y/N, I've lost count. I can't even imagine if you'd be more than a friend to me but I guess we can find out."

Your smile has extended to lengths you didn't know possible. Letting go of his hands, you wrap your arms around him instead.

"I forgot to say this, but I also love your hugs."

A chuckle escapes his chest and he holds you tighter, a kiss lands on your cheek. Time goes by as shows flash before your eyes, eventually leading to you falling asleep in his arms with him not too far behind.

*** Hours pass before you awake, head laying on his lap and knees tucked in. Sitting up, you find him using the arm rest as his pillow, arms crossed underneath his face. He looks so peaceful and you don't want to take him up but you want to sleep in your bed. 

Dare you ask if he wants to join you?

It'll just be us sleeping together in the same bed and maybe cuddles...?

You brush his curls away from his face, tucking what you can behind his ear as you shake him gently. 

"Hey Brian..?"

He doesn't stir, contemplating on just his carrying his lanky ass to your room. 

"Bri.. wake up, hon. Come on."

You continue rubbing his upper arm until he stirs awake, opening his eyes and squinting at the screen's light.

"...What time is it?"

"Late. Would you want to sleep on the couch or my bed?"

"I'm fine out here, I don't want to take your bed from you."

You smile and chuckly slightly.

"I mean share the bed with me."

He smiles at the idea but eyes are shy.

"I'd like that."

You two stand up, him shutting up the TV and you leading the way to your room with his hand in yours. Navigating the small hallway at night lead to him bumping into you twice, and him saying apologies but you could not care less.

Once in your room and switching on the light, he's greeted to your own personal space. He can see canvases with studio projects painted on them under your bed, posters littering your walls. Some local band shows you've attended, a Queen one catching his interest. His eyes also catch your Beatles poster, the one from their White Album. He also sees the pillow he used earlier that day when he was modeling along with the robe tossed into the corner with the rest of your dirty laundry.

"I think I might have a pair of pants you could wear unless you're not a pants to bed kind of guy."

"No pants is what I normally go for but if you're uncomfortable with that I ca-"

"It's fine with me, just no funny business, May."

"Are cuddles out of the equation?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

He smiles and removes his necklaces, placing them next to your sketchbooks on top of the small desk next to the bed. You change into sleep shorts as he takes his trousers off. 

Never thought I'd see that twice today.

Shutting off the light and climbing into bed, he goes first, leaving you in your usual spot. Fluffing up the pillows and adjusting the blankets now done, He wraps you in his arms almost immediately, lips kissing your cheek gently.

"You have enough pillows, Bri?"

"Yes. Thank you, love."

"Want me to grab another blanket?"

He laughs gently, kissing your face one last time.

"I'm more than okay."

You turn around to face him head on, able to make out where his eyes are looking. Fingers playing with one curl, eventually leading to caressing the side of his face. Thumb tracing over one of his cheekbones.

"You're so handsome, Bri."

"Ever look at yourself?"

"Do you always kiss ass?"

"Not until the 3rd date."

You slap his arm, laughing.

"I guess with that comment I won't give you a kiss goodnight."

His face contorts in fake hurt. It's wiped off as soon as you bring your lips to his, fingers gently caressing his jaw as you kiss him. Almost as fast as it happened, it stopped. Smiles painting both your faces.

"Goodnight Y/N."

"Goodnight Bri."

Turning back around, you scoot closer to him. Arms around your waist and face tucked near your shoulder, you two fall asleep. 

*** You wake up before him. His arms are still wrapped around your middle and your legs entangled with one anothers. Your bladder urging you out of the warm confines of your bed, you carefully move out of his grasp to not awake him. Mission was successful as you close the door behind you, hearing Freddie in the kitchen as you walk to the bathroom. After giving yourself a pep talk while washing you hands, you face your roommate, face giving you a smirk.

"Y/N....I saw his god awful shoes by the door but he wasn't on the couch. Please tell me the details, darling!"

"Nothing really happened, Fred! We ended up talking after you went to bed and he sort of told me he had feelings for me and we passed out on the couch."

"He finally told you? About fucking time! You have no idea how much Roger got on his case. Even Deaky was begging him to shut up and ask you out. 'Oh how is Y/N doing? Is she free sometime soon, Fred? What should I get her for Christmas? What does she like? Do you think she likes me?'....every practice Y/N..every practice."

"At least I finally got around to it, Freddie."

He wrapped his arms around you, voice heavy with sleep.

"Now I get to annoy you about her even more now that we're dating."

Brian kisses your neck as Freddie pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't subject us to that. We've suffered enough, dear."

***

aaaay, it’s done! Tbh, I got the idea for this fic after looking through some of my life drawing sketches. Also, a tip with charcoal or chalk pastel drawings from an art student...use hair spray. It’s cheaper than fixitive spray, works just as well, doesn’t affect the colors in chalk pastels, and doesn’t harm your lungs with the fumes (not nearly as badly, anyway). Besides that, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, etc 💖💖

[whumperfly-chaser]

Maurice- Ch 2 | A realization

Don't you just hate it when you find out your tenant has been secretly using his home to host and torture someone for his own sick pleasure? Simply the worst way to start an afternoon.

T/W's here: (Emeto, dirty home, rotting foods and other bits, abandoned setting, infestation) (Lmk what else to tag!)

It would’ve been a pleasant afternoon, drizzling slightly on clean sidewalks and an overgrown lawn, children in raincoats playing in the neighboring yards, and birds singing happily under the shower. It would’ve been a pleasant afternoon, but not for Denice or Martin. No… Not for them in the slightest. Denice tightens her grip around the umbrella handle as she listens faintly to Martin’s complaints.

Prev- Next

“I’m telling you Denice, you’ve got to stop thinking that Roger was up to this shit. Sure, he was a little off sometimes, but he paid the rent just fine.”

“And I’m telling you that I heard something in here. I could’ve sworn I heard a scream when I was walking by. That’s no dog, Martin. It sounded human and scared and I-“

“And you what, Denice?” Denice looked at him with a sort of restlessness, every once in a while she gazed at the innocuous exterior. This house used to be hers. It used to feel nice to walk by and it used to feel safe. But now… all it gives her is a sense of dread.

“Are you really going to break into a tenant’s home just to investigate a random shout you heard? That could literally be anything!”

She crosses her arms. “I know what I heard, Mart. And it’s not his home anymore; he’s dead.”

Martin groans, dragging his hands down his face, releasing it with a snap. “Denice, you’re being unreasonable. The guy could’ve had a kid over-“

“He has no kids. And he mentioned it when signing the lease, too.”

“Like hell you remember when he signed that lease.”

“Steel. Trap. Memory. He said, and I quote; ‘I know this neighborhood is real quiet, so don’t worry, I never have anyone over, it’s just me in here.’ End quote.”

Martin rolls his eyes. “He could’ve been watching a movie-“

“That was no movie. It was guttural- and- and real.” Denice shudders, hugging herself as she takes another longing look at the house.

“It could’ve just been him yelling after a rough day-“

“The voice was too high compared to Roger’s.”

“It could’ve been coming from another house, or a person nearby.”

“It was coming from the house.”

Martin stares at her, half nonplussed and half exasperated. When Denice raises an eyebrow at him he simply looks away, staring at nothing in particular as he finds the words to say in response.

When he finally looks back at her, he’s no longer fully disbelieving her, but he’s definitely hesitant. “Look. You heard that noise weeks ago, Denice. Whatever it was, it isn’t there anymore. Plus, do really you think I’m going to go in there when our tenant might have been a psychopath with- people in his house?”

Denice almost glared, but instead she simply took to walk down the dirty stone path to the entryway.

“Denice- Denice, what in the absolute fuck are you doing?!”

“If you don’t want to go, fine. But voice or not, I still need to evaluate the condition of the house.”

“His family might still want his things-”

“He has none he’s close with. He signed his coworkers as references, too. Plus, I have the right to inspect.”

Denice opens the three locks in the front door like clockwork and swiftly opens the door to a dark and dusty apartment. It’s a fairly straightforward layout, with an L-shaped couch and some pillows, a plain carpet, and a coffee table in front of it. On the adjacent wall there’s a television on a shelved stand with some mildly off abstract paintings, strewn with messy strokes of black, blue and red paint. She glances at it for a second and finds herself looking away just as quickly.

Despite that, it was a normal-looking home, if not unsettling because of how abandoned it felt.

The smell is bad, but bearable as she turns on the lights. The furnished living room has a thin layer of untouched dust coating it, as though it finally had time to settle. It’s as she enters the kitchen that the putrid smell hinted at before hits full throttle. She swallows dryly and takes a step back, bumping into… someone’s chest…

Denice shrieks, struggling as a hand is placed on her shoulder-

“Shush! It’s me!” She snaps open her shut eyes and relaxes only slightly upon seeing Martin’s worried face looking back. He retreats his hand and takes two paces back himself, arms up in caution. “Sorry I grabbed you.”

“Oh-!” She heaves to herself, pressing a palm to her chest as if guiding her lungs to stretch further. “I-It’s okay, just don’t- don’t do that again, Mart.”

Martin nods, grimacing from the overall scent of the home. “I’m really sorry… Um.. I found these keys? They were on a keyring next to the door, but they don’t seem to belong to any of the locks.”

“Keep them for now. Maybe he changed some? We’ll have to check if he put a lock or three somewhere here.”

“Isn’t that against the lease?” he asks whilst putting the small wad of keys in his back pocket.

“I’ve got other things to worry about right now… But we’ll need to look through the whole house.”

Denice inspects the room. Kitchenware, some appliances- a toaster oven, a blender… A very… diverse knifeblock… She pulls out a knife, only to find that it seemed recently polished.

Martin notices her interest in them. “Maybe he was interested in keeping everything maintained. The rest of the house seems pretty neat.”

Denice glances at the oxidation creeping from one of the thinner knives and doesn’t touch it. “…Maybe.”

“Is it me, or is the smell coming in stronger from the refrigerator?” Martin asks, but seems hesitant to open it.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Martin grimaces and looks away from the fridge as he pries it open. The lights snap on, revealing worms and maggots feasting on rotted food. One or two grown flies emerge from the indistinguishable piles of muck and escape the fridge as Martin slams the door shut. “SHIT!”

“The fridge wasn’t closed properly, I’m guessing…”

“You’re guessing? Shit’s a pigsty.”

“That’s what happens when food rots near the presence of flies, Mart.”

Martin gags. “No shit, Sherlock. Hell, did anybody even come in the house after he died?”

“I doubt it… Let’s just move on.”

“Let’s.” Replies Martin, looking through the cabinets. There were several lining the corners of the room, about twenty total; ten above and ten below. Unsurprisingly, a variety of spiders had long made their homes inside of the spaces from the absence of movement. The occasional pest would skitter between the raised boards, one of which being a cockroach large enough to garner a scream from the buxom woman. Martin was ever quick to kill it, slightly more composed than his counterpart.

“I don’t get why he’d have so little spices and so much salt.” Martin finally remarks, opening one of the upper cabinets.

“Maybe he likes pickling food?” Denice supplies, frowning at the dust layering the pots and pans below.

“I doubt it. His fridge would’ve been a lot more tolerable- and less… maggoty.” Martin shudders and proceeds.

Denice is opening yet another cabinet door when the realization finally hits her- She snaps back to a rather calm Martin, who was inspecting one of the bags. “Wait! Mart!”

Martin simply stared at her, nonplussed. “What?”

Denice stares back at him, then his hand. “Wait… didn’t you mention that salt burned you guys?”

Martin looks at the salt in question and chuckles softly, then pats the leaking paper bag. “Don’t worry, salt is only a big deal for obligate vamps.”

“Oh.”

“Yep. Plus I’m almost sure this is full of drugs.”

“It’s too granulated for that, Mart.”

“You never know.” Martin shrugged and placed it on the counter, continuing his run-through.

Why was she even doing this anymore? Did she really want to know what else was here?

…And yet, she finds herself opening the last cabinet regardless, surprised to see a different, smaller fridge inside it.

“…Mart, did we ever leave a mini-fridge here?”

“No? why would he own a separate fridge? Did he own snakes? a lizard of some kind?”

Denice cracks it open, shuddering at the sickening smell of iron and old blood, all in bloated vacuum-sealed bags, separating into clear, off-yellow plasma and coagulated chunks of dark rot. “He- he’s human, right?”

“Yeah? His ID would’ve specified if he were a supernatural.”

“Martin… Either he was a vampire, or he has enough blood to house one for no reason.”

“Blood? Wait-“ Martin ambles over to see it and retches at the sight, spitting into an overfilled trashcan nearby.

“Holy shit.“

“Martin- hey, it's okay man.” Denice rubs small circles on his back, and Martin coughs in his panic until it slowly died down. All is quiet between them, buzzing with unsaid questions.

"It's the smell that's killing me. It's wrong. Blood shouldn't be.." He straightens- realizing something until the last words finish his thought. "...wasted. Denice."

She perks at the call. "What?"

“You need a license to buy blood.” He silently mentions, the statement lingers in the air, weighter. His slitted pupils are wide and anxious.

Denice looks back at the minifridge, glancing at the almost rudimentary setup for storing the bags, compared to the professional handling she's seen with actual banks on the few times she accompanied Martin.

“I think-… I think this was his own. And you aren’t supposed to house vampires—even if you sign for them.” Denice feels her stomach lurch as she closes the door of the minifridge.

Martin looks at the blood with an apathetic sort of disgust, the bags having insulted his senses for the last time. “Will you please close the fridge already? The kitchen smells awful as it is.”

“Oh- Sorry. Let me just-“ She tries to close it normally, but it doesn’t really shut. A bit more pressure is applied, and even then the door bounces back open. One of the bags had clearly tilted out of shape when she opened it, but… Denice was not about to touch it more than she had to already.

She gives it a hearty shove.

There’s a squelch when it shuts, leaving a gush of sickly, yellow-tinted plasma to shoot and bead along the dirty linoleum flooring. Some clots of dark, runny sickness sputter and run down the fridge door

“…I burst one.” Denice gags while a strangled sound escapes Martin’s chest.

Martin heaves dryly, pressing a fist to his lips and an arm around his stomach as though it would stop him from vomiting altogether. They really should’ve placed a better window in the kitchen.

This could’ve been a nice afternoon.

“Den- Denice, I need to take a breather, yeah? or- or- I’ll definitely throw up. Let’s get to somewhere else- I can’t- I-”

“Y-Yeah… Let’s just get out and recuperate a little.”

Denice walked out of the kitchen with Martin following closely behind, his breaths stifled to try and limit the amount of bad air he inhaled.

But now Denice was even more unsure if she wanted to see what else lied in the house. Even with someone as strong as Martin beside her, she felt nervous. Uncertain.

Afraid.

Martin seemed to sense her worry and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We can always leave. You don’t have to stay here and see whatever else was in here.”

Denice enjoys his touch a little longer, thinking on what to say in response. In truth, she did want to leave. She wanted to leave from the beginning. But seeing just what they found now… Well, the knowledge would only eat at her if she didn’t find a conclusion to this.

“…Let’s just see the rest of the place, and we’ll leave right away. Is that okay with you?” She says despite herself. Martin looks absolutely disinterested in continuing the search for the scream’s source, but sighs. “I’ll go.” The relief Denice feels at those two words is immense. “But only because I don’t want you to be in here by yourself.”

“Thank you Mart.” “Don’t mention it.” His tone is curt yet warm, and Denice opens the door to the staircase with a bit more confidence.

They walked up the pine stairs with little conversation- the smell noticeably got better as they left the kitchen area, until it was replaced entirely by the musty scent of dust and no air circulation. The other two bedrooms were normal; they were replaced with an office and storeroom, both of which had no outstanding features. In truth, besides the paintings, there was a very little amount of personality in his home décor.

The attic was a different story altogether.

Martin bumped his head for the third time on the attic’s ceiling when Denice had seen it- shackles. Chains. Restrains of all shapes and sizes. Whips, prods, pokers and knives. Tasers and Gags and ropes and belts and flails- and a bowl.

A bowl of water, next to a spray bottle. Martin touches it and recoils- hissing to himself as he stared at his now reddening hand.

His burned hand.

----

They stumble out of there, disconcerted and horrified as each of them try not to think too hard on their findings. The lawn door creaks and wanes on its rusty hinges until they both find a place to sit under a lawn table’s umbrella and chairs.

And so they sat, not quite talking but exchanging conversation through glances alone. Martin takes a deep, shuddering breath and holds his head in both hands while Denice hugs herself, desperately trying to make sense of it.

But no matter what, they couldn’t quite make sense of it. It could have easily been confirmation-bias, but every path seemed to lead back to her original theory, and they hated it.

Martin still looked unnerved, his grey-tinted features dark despite the sun peeking out on him. He tapped his fingers against the clouded glass and grimaced- rubbing his fingers together at the gritty feeling of muck layering the table. He takes a quick sip of his flask and grunts as his burnt hand slowly starts regrowing the tissue.

"...It was concentrated." He eventually says after noticing her worried glances. "Fuckin' liquid was probably saltier than the ocean. Could've been acid for all I know. "

Denice felt herself losing composure as well- an internal tremor echoed through her as her worries piled on. Further and further it pushed her will to continue looking. Yet the most she could do was retreat into a better space- a more optimistic section of her thoughts where the noise she heard was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

She couldn’t imagine how Martin could feel about this- he was a vampire himself, and was now dealing with the possible reality of one of their tenants illegally hosting an unregistered vampire in his home. Torturing a vampire. Feeding it with his own blood to avoid getting into a registry.

She can't unthink it. She doesn't want it to be true, and yet she feels it's growing more real by the second.

She's rethinking every instance with the tenant, no longer a placid young man with a mild interest in the arts, but holding those pokers, those knives, those weapons, and using it on someone. On her. On Martin.

She desperately hoped for it to be a joke. A gag. Something unreal and unbelievable, as Martin had told her just an hour ago. But reality was setting in too quickly for fantasy to fill in the gaps, and now she had seen too much.

Martin was the first to speak.

“I’m calling the police.” It’s such a firm statement that it leaves Denice even more unsure. If they called the police, what would happen? Did they really expect something to make sense if they did? For some justice when they didn’t even know if the man did this? They would most certainly laugh. Laugh at them both for calling them over simply because they saw some odd things in his own home.

She remembers how each weapon had drying flecks of dark ichor lacing them and gags.

“…It's not going to be a good idea. There isn't much in terms of evidence.”

Martin glared at her momentarily, his gaze only softening upon seeing her distress. “We can show them what we found-“

“And then what?”

Martin looked away and at his hand, pensively staring at the mottling patchwork of repairs on his skin. “I don’t know.”

Denice unknit her brow. “Well… we still have one last room to search through. None of the keys fit the other doors. If we see something truly incriminating, we'll call.”

Martin flexed his now-healed hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling forcibly as though trying to grasp his last strands of composure. Or savoring the fresh air while he still could.

“Fine, but I’m not going back there for longer than I have to, and neither are you. Comprendes?”

She nods, now set and resolute. Martin stood up and stretched, his joints popping until he heaved a breath and walked to follow his partner. The one place they hadn’t searched. The last room. The room they both dreaded entering.

The basement.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-eight: “chuck, there’s a worm in your soup”

Sam hung up the phone and ran her fingers through her dark hair. She had waited until five days following the announcement in order to tell her parents about the accident as she had no other means to do so. She knew that they would not react to it well, even if she was thousands of miles away. Add to this, she never liked the idea of one of her parents being in an exorbitant amount of pain.

The tears in Ruben's voice and his telling Esmé what had happened: she bawled off in the background. She had invited them to the funeral over in the Bay Area, but he told her that they had too much to do with themselves.

“It's not really a funeral, though,” she clarified, “we're just scattering his ashes at Maxwell Ranch near Vacaville. But—I'll be out there this weekend, though.”

“Okay,” he had told her with a shuddered sigh, “be safe—I'm so sorry, sweetie.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and, before she could pour in the cream, a knock on the door caught her attention. She padded into the living room, past the vase of yellow tulips, which still stood strong and high even well after Cliff had picked them out for her.

Aurora stood there before her with a glass square covered with a sheet of tin foil and a deep violet velvety sweater about her body.

“Hey, Aurora,” she greeted her, and she eyed the little square dish cradled in her hands. “Thank you. What's this?”

“Blondies courtesy of Emile,” she said in a low voice. “And I told him I'm going to have to spend a lot more time with you, though.”

“Thank you,” Sam repeated as Aurora handed her the blondies which then allowed her to put her arms around her best friend.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered into her ear. Sam sighed through her nose and then she stepped back for a better look at the blondies: she took off the foil and she revealed the square of that soft yellow top, complete with bits of white chocolate mixed in.

“So when do we go back out to San Francisco?” she asked Aurora, who strode into the apartment.

“Friday, in two days—we leave the day of, too, real early. Jon gave me the week off, though. It's getting kind of stressful, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I couldn't hardly focus in class this week so far. I'm glad we're leaving on Friday, too—I don't know how much more I can take it. I just want to get it over with.”

“Well, as you know, it's not a technical funeral,” she pointed out.

“Right, they brought him home over the weekend and then they had him cremated,” Sam recalled as she strode into the kitchen and she put the blondies in the fridge. “Ray and Jan said they want him scattered over Maxwell Ranch near Vacaville. I actually had to look that up because I didn't know where that was.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sam surfaced from the kitchen to find Aurora had stuffed her hands into her sweater pockets. “By the way, what're Metallica gonna do now?”

“Look for a new bassist,” she replied with a shrug. “Even though they're on a different label now, I'm going to oversee it with them. Speaking of which—did you get a copy of their new album?”

“I haven't, no.”

“We'll have to do that when we go out there,” Aurora vowed, and Sam sighed through her nose again and she lowered her gaze to the floor. Aurora padded over to her with her arms wide open and she held her close: she lay her head against Sam's chest.

“I don't like seeing friends in pain,” she said in a muffled voice. “Especially if it's my best friend.” She lifted her head for a better look at her. “My parents endured a lot of it when they were back in Korea.”

“I can imagine,” Sam confessed with a break in her voice. Her eyes burned with tears again.

“They were almost separated at the demilitarized zone—the mines were activated and my father almost lost his legs to an explosion. Had my mother not held his hand and ran away from there with him, he would've been a goner and I wouldn't be here right now.”

Sam brushed away a tear as it burgeoned from her right eye.

“My father had a death wish then, too. He believed there was no way they could run away from Korea, especially the North. But they managed to escape. My mother and the grip of her hand saved him, from the line of fire and from himself.”

“If we were there in Sweden, Cliff would still be here,” Sam recalled those words from that night.

“I have no doubt about it.” Aurora lay the side of her head against her chest again and Sam closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay. She knew it was going to be a difficult weekend, especially when she still couldn't hardly focus in class the next day. She expected Cliff to be there on the sidewalk upon her emergence from the school building, but she took the subway alone, and with that hat rested upon the crown of her head. Every so often, she caught a whiff of the way his hair used to smell once she removed the hat. If only there was a way in which to preserve it for eternity.

She and Aurora left for the airport at four o'clock in the morning: any homework that she had would have to wait a few days because there were more pressing matters to tend to. She thought of Cliff during the whole flight: it didn't help matters that they were seated at the front of coach class as well, two rows behind first class. She sat there for the first hour of the flight with her arms folded across her chest, such that when Aurora woke up from her nap, she peered over at her with her tired eyes in a daze.

“Is everything alright?” she asked her.

“Just thinking,” Sam replied in a soft voice. “When we visited my parents, we sat near first class.”

“Oh, damn,” Aurora muttered and she cleared her throat.

“Yeah. We can't move, though.” She sighed through her nose yet again, and they landed San Francisco before the sun even rose there, right through that thick bank of fog from the Bay itself. They were greeted by Lars, who had showed up to the airport in a long black overcoat and a pair of black leather boots.

“I like this,” Aurora told him with a gesture all about his body. “I like this a lot.”

“Something a little a propos, dare I say,” he told her as he guided them out to his car.

“Thank you for picking us up, by the way,” she continued.

“There was no way I was going to let the two of you stay in a dingy hotel,” he said, but Sam tuned out their words. She gazed out the window to the thick dark fog as it blacked out the inlets: off in the distance, she noticed the dim lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. It almost didn't seem right, that Cliff had died in a place so far away and yet he was so staunch on staying in the Bay Area. He even put a bet on something that felt as far away as Sweden itself in order to be with her, which meant if it didn't happen, there was no way it would last.

And yet she couldn't stay angry at Cliff for that.

This was his home. This was where he needed to be, away from the darkness of Scandinavia and on his own soil. If it was to be long distance until she finished school, then she could make it happen. But that was the belief, and it had vanished into the blackness of the Bay fog as it greeted them outside in the dim parking lot.

Lars drove them to his small house up in Sausalito, and Sam wondered when Marla and Zelda would be there with Anthrax given she didn't see either of them on the plane. She even brought this up to him.

“They got here late last night,” he told her as he served her and Aurora fresh cups of coffee. “Well, Charlie and Marla did, anyways. He called me last night and said they had checked into their hotel at around eleven o'clock last night. No idea about the others, though.”

“Thank you, by the way,” she said to him as she took a sip of the coffee. Like a warm gentle hug from the inside. She thought about what he had told her in that room. Even though she couldn't hardly focus on class, she did however feel an itch to draw something in her journal, something outside of class. That time around, it was a mistake for her to not take her journal or any of her paper along with her. She thought about the ink drawings she had made the last October and she made a mental note to do it again at some point.

But by the time the ceremony came about, she knew there was no way she could focus on anything that needed to be drawn up on paper.

The fog had cleared out to pure blue sky but it straddled the Golden Gate Bridge as well as the inlet there before Maxwell Ranch. A small stretch of land fitted by a handful of lush green trees and a small building that made Sam think of a church given there was a small painting of Jesus next to the front door when they walked inside. Everyone had donned themselves in solid black: she peered across the room to find Legacy had showed up themselves, as did Exodus given she recognized Zetro's head of hair next to Chuck's long black smooth curls. Alex towered next Eric, Greg, and Louie, complete with a yarmulke on his head: that little gray sliver poked out over his forehead.

Meanwhile, five more unfamiliar men congregated at the far end of the room and they looked as though they had just come from a nearby high school.

“Nice to see Death Angel here,” Lars declared right next to her as he took off his sunglasses. “Kind of expected them to be, but it's always nice to see them, though. Armored Saint, too. And Metal Church. And Exodus and Legacy—everyone's here! Well, not everyone, I don't see Dave or Slayer.”

“Brought the whole Bay Area scene here with us,” Zelda's voice crackled from their left: she emerged from the corridor in a fitted black dress with white polka dots and a black silk bolero over her shoulders. Her short bob of black hair had been combed and styled back with a bit of gel.

Sam then felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned around only to be met with another head of black curls piled atop a round head and a slender body wrapped in black leather. His face had grown fuller with the extensive touring but she knew it was him by the soft brown tone to his skin alone.

“Hi, Joey,” she greeted him and he put his arms around her and he held her close to his slender little body.

“Remember if you need anything—absolutely anything at all—you can call me,” he told her, and he ran his fingers through his thick inky black curls. “I'll always be there, rain or shine, day or night, on tour or not. Call me regardless of the barrier.”

“Yeah, me and Marla, too,” Charlie joined in behind them, and he greeted her with an embrace as well, so did Frank, Dan, Scott, and of course Marla.

James and Kirk emerged from the corridor on the left, in black shirts and matching pants: the latter had a small black lace band around his upper arm. He gestured for Lars to join them there at the corner of the room. Sam, Aurora, and Zelda gathered on the wall adjacent to the door; Joey and Dan stood right behind them. The latter set a hand on Sam's shoulder to comfort her and she showed him a warm smile in return.

“Thank you, Danny,” she told him.

“We've got each other, you know,” he said with a wink. She returned her attention to that corner of the room, and she noticed a little gray urn in between James and Kirk. The room fell silent, even with Ray, Jan, and Connie not even being there. She wondered about them if they were doing alright with it all.

Joey rested his chin on her shoulder, and she caught a small whiff of his soft soapy cologne on the side of his neck. Oh, the smells. Cliff still riddled in her memory but she knew Joey would never be too far away from that point onward.

“Can't believe we're here right now,” Kirk started with a little break in his voice and his hands clasped together before his toned stomach. “I mean, if anything, we should still be over in Europe right now. But—here we are. Back home.”

“That bus sucked, though,” Lars added. “The beds were hard as a rock and they were uncomfortable. It was why Cliff and Kirk drew cards in the first place.”

“They were small, too,” James continued, “they were even small for you. And—you know, if it's small for Lars—you know it sucks.”

“As everyone might notice, Cliff's family couldn't make it,” Kirk said, “even being his biggest fans and everything. They just—they just couldn't do it. I mean, it's hard on the three of us, but they pretty much broke down, though. So—we have to act as his family.” He flashed Sam a small but sad smile and she could feel her eyes burning with tears yet again. She gazed out the window with Joey's chin still rested upon her shoulder. She tuned out their eulogies as she thought about Cliff's family. She pictured the three of them congregated in their living room together. They didn't have much, but they had each other.

She knew he and his older brother had been reunited somewhere beyond the window, somewhere beyond those low pale yellow hills, somewhere beyond the vast blue.

Somewhere beyond the veil.

She knew she had to pay attention because she was the grieving girlfriend but she couldn't. All she could think about were his parents and his sister.

“He was like 'we should just kill 'em all, man,'” Kirk pressed on and he brushed away a tear from his eye. “And the bunch of us were like, hey, let's make that our album name!”

She had to get her hands on that album that Aurora had told her about. If she had to go to a nearby record shop for a copy, then she could do it for herself.

“Sam?”

Lars' high pitched voice caught her offguard. She glanced over at his holding the urn in both hands.

“Would you like the final word before we release him to the earth?” he asked her, and she nodded her head. Frank set a hand on her shoulder and she could tell that he held back the tears, even as she ambled up to the corner of the room. She held the pale cold urn in her hands, about the size of a coffee mug.

He was in there. She had to set him free. She had to let him go.

Her bottom lip trembled as she brought the stone closer to her face. She closed her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered into the crack between the urn itself and the lid. Kirk set a hand on her upper back and leaned in closer to her. She then handed James the urn to do the duty.

He led them outside to the cool crisp October afternoon, around the building to a stretch of flat field lined with tall scraggly dark trees. Two evergreens stood near the back door, and she wondered if that was the reception area. She spotted two large black speakers near there and she wondered what was about to happen once James let the ashes fly.

“Alright, Lars,” he called out to his left. They all congregated there under the cold sun and a gentle breeze from the ocean made them all huddle together like a bunch of penguins. Lars knelt down before one of the speakers and he pushed a button. Against the wind, Sam could hear music.

The hard, rising riffs emerged from the speakers from complete silence: it made her think of the depths of space, or the depths of the ocean behind her.

“This was his favorite,” Kirk told her in a low voice, “from our new album. It's called 'Orion'.” She thought of the little indent on Cliff's hip, which made her think of a true belt. And with that, Joey put his arm around her again. Sam watched James hold up the urn, and he turned away from the winds. When the music picked up, he unscrewed the lid and he tilted the urn on its side. Some of Cliff's ashes billowed out in a cloud against the wind and towards the field.

He became part of the earth yet again. Orion's belt.

Sam bowed her head but she couldn't bring herself to cry. Joey rubbed his hand upon her shoulder.

It was a long song, one that included a small section where Cliff's bass stood alone, and another plume of ashes billowed out in light wisps. It made her think of fire flies, or fairy dust, especially when Chuck muttered, “ashes to ashes, dust to dust—until we meet again, Cliff” right behind her.

It faded out as James gave the urn one last shake and the rest of the ashes scattered about the earth before him with the wind. He lowered the urn and screwed the lid back on, and bowed his head. Lars ambled over to him as he brought a hand to his face.

Some soft acoustic guitar played out right then.

“'Fight Fire with Fire'!” Zelda declared from Sam and Aurora's right. “I love this song!”

“This was Cliff's last song,” Kirk told her. “The very last song he played.” She brought a hand to her chest and her face softened. That was the softest Sam ever saw Zelda, given she was always in such a punk rock mood and a mood for trouble.

“Alright, who wants lunch?” Lars called out as he let go of James.

They all doubled back inside, through that back door into a vast rec room that smelled as though it was just cleaned. Sam and Aurora took their seats at a table on the far side of the room, and Lars joined the two of them with a pair of plates absolutely full with potatoes au gratin, baked ham, and steamed vegetables.

“There's a big quiche Lorraine and some pho over there, if you'd like, Aurora,” he said as he took his seat next to Sam and he handed her the plate in his right hand. “Both courtesy of our friends in Death Angel.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Sam. With a little nod, Aurora climbed to her feet right then, and the two of them were left alone. Lars handed Sam a fork.

“So what happens now?” he asked her with a grave look on his round face.

“Don't know,” she confessed as she dug into the potatoes. “I go back to New York and continue being the artist.”

“You know how Joey and Charlie both said to call them if you needed anything?” His green eyes wandered over to the neighboring table, and she spotted Charlie, Frank, and Scott clustered together with their backs to them. Scott burst out laughing about something: Sam spotted a comic book plunked in front of Charlie. Of course!

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Well, I extend that to myself,” Lars told her, “especially if it has to do with art.”

“That's right, you're the art guy.”

“I can perhaps help you out if you wish,” he quipped with a raise of an eyebrow, and he picked up a potato medallion.

“Aw, that's so sweet!” And then she had an idea. “Would you like something from me?”

“Would I like something from you—yes, please!”

“It can be totally on me, too.”

“Oh, no, I don't want to do that to you, Sam,” he said as he brought a forkful of broccoli up to his little lips.

“No, I insist!” she said with her mouth full. She swallowed before she spoke again. “What would you like? What medium would you like?”

“What do you feel most comfortable with?”

“Ink.”

“Ink! Like—black ink?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He paused. “I don't believe I have a photograph of my parents with me, but I do have one at home, though. You might find it interesting when we get back there...” His voice trailed off and the two of them ate in silence, given Aurora had taken a bowl of soup for herself and found herself distracted by the men of Exodus as well as Zelda on the other side of the room. Sam lifted her head at one point and she watched Zelda pick something up from the floor. She turned to her right, away from them, and she raised it over her head, clenched inside of her fist.

Charlie muttered something about the comic book store there in San Francisco being expensive, but he was interrupted by Zelda's strident shout.

“Hey, Louie! Catch!”

Louie's smooth head of hair emerged on the side of the room, about ten feet from Sam and Lars' table, and he extended his hands out before him. Zelda threw the thing at him, a glimmer of silver across the room. The guys from Legacy cheered out when he caught it.

“What even was that?” Lars asked Sam.

“Looked like a spoon.”

“A spoon or a knife. What better place to play 'catch the knife'!” And Sam burst out laughing at that.

She and Lars both helped themselves to seconds, as well as plates full of desserts, a slice of cake, a blondie, and a handful of cookies. She was amazed by how much she had eaten right there, but then again, she had put on a bit of weight over the course of that year and she needed to move on from Cliff. It was time to tend to herself, and to nourish herself, even if it meant eating a great deal.

“Chuck, there's a worm in your soup,” she overheard Zelda say, and it made Scott almost fall out of his chair from laughing so hard. Frank caught him and Louie clapped his hands with laughter; she turned to Lars, who picked at his teeth.

“Have you seen where Joey went?” she asked him.

“I was just gonna ask you that,” he admitted. He turned his attention to the other side of the room. James and Kirk sat with Aurora and Marla and they had their backs towards them. There was something else about that otherwise joyful room. Something else missing, and it didn't help matters that he knitted his eyebrows at it, either.

“I'm going to sit with Alex for a second,” Lars told her.

“Where is he?”

“Right over there.” She followed his point to the door on the other side of the room, and Alex had taken his seat outside on the step. All she could see was that thick blanket of jet black curls at the back of his head: some of them sprawled down his shoulders and his upper back. He had moved the yarmulke more on top of his head but it still stood strong and high like a crown.

“Just going to check on him, you know?” She nodded her head and Lars stood to his feet with his free hand on his stomach. He strode across the floor and slipped his plate into the trash can next to the wall. He then stood next to Alex, who then lifted his head and gazed up at him. Lars said something, but Chuck and Zelda bickering about something drowned him out. Alex nodded his head and Lars took a seat next to him on the step.

Sam peered behind her to another door. Perhaps it was from merely all the food she had eaten, but that room felt so much warmer than when they first arrived there. She slid out of the chair with her empty plate in her left hand. She adjusted the band of her dress slacks and she walked out through the other door, to the clear and crisp afternoon that awaited her. The sun hung high in the school still, despite it being fall. The air was so fresh and the sky was so blue. For a split second, she missed California right there, but she knew her life was back in New York City. She stuck the plate in another trash can next to the door and, careful not to upset her stomach, she walked at a slow pace around the side of the building.

She caught the sound of Lars' laughter on the other side, near those evergreen trees. Alex's big striking voice followed. She rounded the corner and there the two of them were on the step, with the sunshine on their heads.

“Not really how I wanted to celebrate my eighteenth birthday,” Alex was confessing, and he gave Lars a shrug of his slender shoulders. Those loose tendrils near the base of his head brushed against his shirt. He turned his head into her direction and the cold sun shone upon the side of his face: it accentuated his aquiline nose and the round soft shape of his face. Sam thought about one of the dreams she had had about the mysterious man with the streak in his hair, the one with the plane crash and the fire. Maybe it was the way in which his face was shaped, how he looked a little rounder from the last time she saw him over Christmas, but she couldn't help but think of that man.

Those deep eyes wandered into her direction. Deep and cold. Lars followed his gaze in her direction and he grinned at her.

“Samantha!” he called to her with his arm extended out for her, and Alex raised his eyebrows.

“Samantha?”

“Yeah. Cliff's girlfriend.”

Alex hesitated, and then his face lit up.

“Oh, Samantha!” He wagged his finger at that. “I remember now. I made that thing for you by Cliff's request!”

She fetched up a sigh and she ambled closer to them with her arms behind her back; she lingered right next to Lars. He adjusted the yarmulke on the crown of his head. She swore she had seen him a few times in New York City, off in the background, and he seemed like such a shadow to her all the while. But here he sat before her, wrapped in that little black velvet jacket, and with that little yarmulke upon his head as well. He looked as though he needed to attend a bar mitzvah rather than a funeral.

“How do you like that, by the way?” he asked her, and she never realized how soft spoken he was until he spoke to her up close and personal like that.

“I love it to death,” she told him as the tears welled up again. “I put it in a safe place so the graphite doesn't fade away.”

“That's good.” And she brushed a tear away from her eye. Lars caressed her hand and Alex showed her a small smile but it also looked like he wasn't smiling at all. He took the yarmulke off of his head and he shook it about: the little sliver of gray over his forehead shone in the hazy sunlight so it actually resembled to a little pearl. She was so close to that little sliver, such that she couldn't stop looking at it. Lars turned his head in his direction.

“So you were talking to Greg a little bit ago?” he asked Alex. “You guys' Greg?”

“Oh, yeah—I was talking to him and he told me he might audition for Cliff's position.”

“Hope he can get it,” Sam blurted out. “I think he'd kick ass with that position.”

“Yeah, but also understand we'd need a new bassist if he got the part, though,” Alex pointed out with a blank expression on his face.

“He can pull double duties, though,” Lars quipped. “Ronnie James Dio did it. I can envision Greg putting his horns down and going crazy with it.”

“You're just saying that 'cause I do that,” Alex scoffed.

“You're quite the worker bee, Alex,” Lars assured him, and he shrugged in response to that. Sam frowned at his body language. “You are, though!”

“I got out of school by the skin of my teeth, though,” he declared.

“Hey, at least you graduated. I practically dropped out to become a tennis player.”

“Yeah, and I had to take a break for a little bit afterwards,” Sam joined in. Alex stared up at her: those deep eyes swallowed her whole. He seemed so much colder than she had imagined, and so much more distant in comparison to when Cliff got that rice paper from him over Christmas. She figured it was because Cliff himself was gone.

“I still wanna be the best, though,” he told them in a low voice. “I knew from the very second I picked up a guitar when I was eight years old that it was for me. My brother told me to run with it once I got out of school.”

“Playing since you were eight?” Sam was stunned by that.

“Yeah, but my parents were rather reticent towards it, though. My parents are older than that of my friends so—they don't really understand it.”

He never smiled once, such that it made her squirm in that spot next to Lars. She knew it wasn't from the loss; as cool as a cucumber and those deep eyes seemed to stare right into her foggy mind.

“Complete diametric opposite of Cliff's parents,” Lars remarked, and the sound of Cliff's name made the tears well up again.

“Hey, little man!” James called from inside the reception hall, and Alex scoffed at the sound of that. But he turned around and clutched onto the yarmulke as if it was about to get away from him. Sam leaned forward for a look at Kirk and the slice of birthday cake cradled in his hands. Zetro stood next to him with a lighter in hand.

“Oh,” he breathed out with a raise of his eyebrows.

“I see a candle,” Lars told him; Zetro left a tiny flicker of a flame on the little blue candle on top of the layer of white frosting.

“I do, too—happy birthday,” Sam said with a sniffle.

“Thank you.” Alex showed her another small smile. Those deep eyes resembled to the sliver of ocean near there. He was cold, much colder than what she remembered from that show over Christmas break. Maybe it was his being so young and already having a band around him that made him mature with such haste, but the whole feeling made her grimace a bit, especially when he doubled back into the building for the cake. Kirk gazed on at her and gestured to the cake, and she shook her head. He pouted and cocked his head to the side as if she upset him.

“Maybe later,” she mouthed to him as she patted her stomach, and he nodded at that.

“Me, too,” said Lars, “so unlike me, though. I’m like you, I like to eat.” And she watched them all congregate around Alex, the birthday boy, like one big family. Cliff had omitted so much from her. Maybe he really was that out of touch with the rest of them, more so than he had originally told her. And she knew from that point on out that Zelda was right. They needed to act in order to be a bigger part of the whole community.

He would have wanted her to move on. In the brief pocket of time in which they knew each other, she knew that he would have wanted her to. And if it meant she had to be more forth going like with Kirk there, then she would do it for him. She would do it for him in her words, and her art as well.

[juicylivy]

Comfort

Pairings: Yang Jeongin x Bang Chan

Genre: fluff, angst.

Words: 2.4k

Summary

Jeongin has a horrible nightmare, luckily his boyfriend and members are there him.

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Sleep. It was something that Jeongin liked a lot. Falling into that deep state of mind, where you entered your own alternate universe. It's as if, you've left your own body, but you're still breathing. It's an escape from everything and a thing that calms the mind. Though at that moment it wasn't to him.

He was standing in the middle of a big empty house, filled with furniturs, picture frames hanging on the walls, and different types of plants placed all around the facility. It was a place that should've been filled with the laughter and joy from a sweet family, but it was deserted - not a single sound was heard in that spacious mansion. This was weird. Why was it so silent? Jeongin turned around several times, trying to look for his members. Tried to look for Minho, HyunJin, and Jisung in the living room playing video games, find his boyfriend Chan in his studio working on a track with Changbin, ran towards the kitchen to perhaps see Seungmin looking through the fridge for what could be edible, and Felix who always sat at the table in the dining room, either playing on his phone or writing lyrics. But none of them were to be seen - where were they? Everything was a sad grey color and  A note sat on the kitchen aisle, Chan's neat handwriting scribbled across the white piece of paper. He sighed in relief, thinking that they had gone shopping for groceries, or snacks that they had almost run out off. He also thought that his sweet boyfriend could've found some sort of prank to pull on him. But when he began reading the note, he saw that, that wasn't the case.

"Innie, dearest Jeongin. This is a goodbye letter. JYP-nim couldn't see you fit for the task as the 8th member of Stray Kids anymore due to your lack of enthusiasm and hardwork and honestly, we thought the same. We couldn't picture you in this group anymore because of it. And... This is gonna be heartbreaking and I'm so sorry, but Innie, this is also a goodbye to our 2 years long relationship. It just doesn't feel right anymore for me - you must've felt it too. The spark has died down and trying to keep us together would be a waste of both of our times... I'm sorry Innie, but this is goodbye."

A great shot of shock and immense surprise ran through his body all at once. Thoughts left his mind and he stared into distance. He knew he was lacking in the new comeback, he knew he had some trouble remembering the new dances and with the recording of their new tracks too m, but was that really something he could be thrown out of the group for? Was this a good enough reason for his members, whom he saw as brothers, to agree and leave him without a notice? And most importantly, how was it that Chan suddenly decided to also abandon him? As his leader, lover, and best friend, it was kind of his job to try and find some way to keep him in the group. He knew how much he valued them all and his career.

It had to be a dream. Something as shallow as this couldn't be anything other than a bad dream. He shook off the shock, determined to try and escape this reality. Pain was said to be a good way to break out from a dream, so he tried pinching his arm as hard as he could, and winced as the pain filled his lower left arm. It didn't work. He tried once more, but with biting instead, but that wasn’t helping either. He tried repeatedly with various forms of ways to inflict injuries, but to no avail. He couldn't wake up.

At last he gave up and sat down on the floor up against the wall that connected the living room and the kitchen. Could this be real? Did everyone actually leave him alone? At this point it seemed to be true. He was indeed all by himself.

Slowly the discovery settled in his heart and it broke into tiny puzzle pieces scattered on the floor, not able to be put back together. His body began to shake softly as the tears started running down his face. How had it come to this? After those two years of being a group, after the struggle they all had to go through to debut, they'd seriously get him out of the group, and their lives, just like that? Soon the grief got too great and he couldn't handle it anymore, resulting in him beginning to sob uncontrollably. He wished he could turn everything around and been more into the dance practices and shown more enthusiasm with recording. He wished he could've saved his and Chan's relationship, and seen that the spark was dying. What was he supposed to do now? He was all by himself in that huge empty place with no sounds and-

“Jeongin!”

Someone was yelling for him... What? Gradually the scenery faded, morphing into a blur.

"Innie!" Chan screamed for him, shaking his body vigorously.

Jeongin shot up in bed, tears streaming down his face and little sobs leaving his mouth. He frantically tossed and turned trying to see if he had finally escaped the horror that was his dream.

He had.

Everyone was sat around his bed in his and Jisung's room, worry plastered on their faces. Chan was right in front of him, tears in his eyes. He let out a loud cry and flew forward to cling onto his lover in such a harsh way, Chan ended up coughing.

"Channie!" He cried out. Never in his life had he been so glad to see him.

"Shh, Innie. I'm right here, love," Chan soothed and rubbed his back comfortingly. His was voice groggy from seeing his boyfriend cry out so loudly in his sleep. The others chimed in sitting all around him in his bed, hugging him and telling him reassuring and loving words. Little by little, his crying died down, and he could breath now without hiccuping. Inhaling Chan's sweet cologne helped him calm down entirely and he was at last back to normal. His boyfriend released him from the embrace slowly and stared into his red eyes, a little soft smile displaying on his face.

"Baby, what happened?" He asked with a honey like tone to his voice and caressed Jeongin's cheek.

"Yeah: You got us all terrified there," Changbin said sounding distressed from the left, being one to hug him from behind.

"I almost lost it when I saw you crying here, and not being able to wake you up," Jisung explained, his voice equally as groggy as Chan's, but also saddened. His face dropped a bit, hearing what they felt - he had made them all wake up in the middle of the night, because he had a nightmare. Sure there was nothing he could do about it, but it didn’t feel nice.

Jeongin sighed and gathered up his strength and courage to talk about his horrifying dream. While explaining the dream slowly the room was completely silent, everybody listening thoroughly and patiently to his stammering story of his nightmare. He was feeling awkward talking about it so soon after, but he'd have to tell his brothers this eventually and the fastest way to get over something was to talk it out with someone.

When he finished speaking he looked down at his legs, fidgeting with his fingers. He felt a little uncomfortable with everyone being so quiet and looking at him, but it didn't last long until everybody began to aggressively show him love and affection, giving him all sorts of comforting words and reassurances.

"That's absurd! Stray Kids isn't whole without you! And throwing you out of the group just because you didn't show too much enthusiasm is dumb and shallow." Minho looked angry and perplexed, but his voice was emitting reason and care towards him as he sat in front of him with his feet in his lap. Jeongin was a little taken aback by his exclamation, but ended up smiling, because he knew that Minho didn't intend to invalidate his feelings. He was only sad and hurt by the dream Jeongin had and it was only reasonable he felt that way. 

"Yeah, and Jeongin, we would never agree to such stupid logic. You're one of us and that's how it'll be. We all know that you love us, so if you had difficulties, we would at least try to help you out of it, since we love you too." Seungmin explained, sitting down beside his right hip on the floor, smiling sweetly up at him. He grinned shyly at his words; it was unusual for Seungmin to be that soft. Though he was affectionate around him and a person he could lean on.

"Exactly. You're our maknae, our bean worm, and as your big brothers, who love you, we will always protect you and support you." Felix tightened his arms around his waist, leaning his chin on his shoulder. Jeongin laughed wholeheartedly at the nickname and his worries began fading.

"Baby." Jeongin immediately turned his attention to Chan sitting in front of him, his hands holding his hips. He turned bright red at the adorning look his boyfriend's face held, his deep brown eyes filled with love only for him. "You know I love you more than anything, right?" He carefully nodded while holding eye contact. "Then you know, I wouldn’t leave you. I don't want to be without you, so if you should go away, I would go with you. I'll always be yours and by your side, my love."

Jeongin grinned, being filled with happiness. He knew that, but after what happened just minutes ago, this was what he needed to hear. He leaned forward, pulling Felix and Changbin with him, and pressed his forehead against Chan’s. Both of them were smiling, also when they shared a loving kiss, getting gag sounds and applauds.

“Does this mean we’ll have a sleepover in the living room?” HyunJin asked hopefully, looking around at the boys. Laughter erupted among them at his cute question, but all sprang up and began gathering mattresses, duvets, and pillows. Chan and Jeongin waited with joining them and stood up in each other’s arms. Jeongin’s head was leaned against Chan’s shoulder, arms around his torso. He was getting lost in his embrace until he spoke up.

“I love you, baby. Remember that, if you get another dream about me leaving you, or whatever the situation should be. Just know, that it won’t happen. I won’t leave you.” Jeongin looked up and smiled at him.

“I love you too, Channie. Always. And I’ll try to remember it,” he replied and Chan planted his lips firmly on his again. The kiss was more passionate than any other they had shared, and Jeobgin could feel it all over his body. When they finally broke apart, they took each other’s hands and walked out to the others in the living room.

Chan never left his side. Not even while preparing the sleeping area in the room. When he had to go get more pillows, because they lacked a few, he’d go with him, when he’d get some snacks from the kitchen to cozying up with before bed, Chan was right behind him. He was like his little puppy, and Jeongin loved it. He loved being cared for this much. It filled him with security and joy to know this talented, caring, and loving man was his and his alone.

Settling down into the large fluffy bed that was made in the living room was heavenly. He felt so safe lying in between his brothers and with Chan hugging him from behind. The others were having small talks while eating the chips and candies.

“Thanks guys...” Jeongin spoke up weakly from under the blankets. The members shut up immediately upon hearing his voice and turned to him looking shocked. “Thanks for doing this for me. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime man, we love you!” HyunJin giggled, showing him his famous eye smile and Jeongin couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“No need to thank us. We did this because we wanted to help you and make you feel comfortable, but you’re welcome our sweet Maknae!” Jisung replied patting his legs.

“And honestly this also gave us the opportunity to have this sleepover here. I’ve really missed this; all of us being together this close,” Changbin said thoughtfully, making people snicker. “Not that we need you to have more nightmares for us to sleep here, but you know!” He quickly saved and everybody began laughing loudly. They started teasing him, making him whine.

“Thanks Changbin,” Jeongin said after they’ve calmed down. Changbin smiled warmly at him and nodded.

“Always here for you, bro.” He pulled out his fist and he bumped it, making the explosion afterwards.

They all decided to sleep to get ready for tomorrow’s work and everyone settled closely together, no one left uncuddled. Jeongin turned around in Chan’s embrace and placed his head on his chest.

“Goodnight Innie,” Chan huskily said, the others tuning in.

“Goodnight everyone.”

This turned out to be the best night he’d had in a while, despite the horrible dream he had.

——

Stray Kids’ manager was walking up the stairs towards the front door of their dorm, early in the morning, making sure the Kids got up and ready for the day. He sighed as he turned the key in the lock and opened the door. It had been a rough night for him and waking up today was hard.

As he was about to yell out a good morning throughout the dorm, he was met with an endearing sight, he hadn’t seen in a long time; the boys had gathered around in the living room, on a huge self-made bed, all sprawled up on each other’s bodies. Warmth spread out in his heart at the view which resulted in an equally warm smile to appear on his face. Something must’ve happened last night to make this happen, because they hadn’t done this in a long time.

Thinking this thought he figured he’d give them the sleep they needed, and he could also use a little rest, leading to him taking a pillow that had been thrown out from the bed and a blanket and lay on the couch above them.

He whispered a small: “sleep well.” and went to sleep alongside them                 

[tigereyes45]

RWBY-Whiterose, ruby rescues Weiss from her father's mansion

(Sorry it took a bit to do but I hope you enjoy it! Ao3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216039   WARNING: More physical violence from Jacques)

There will be an escape

Weiss knew she could expect many things. Her inheritance, taking control of her grandfather's company, Winter coming home to celebrate her graduation from Beacon academy, becoming a top-notch huntress second only to Pyrrha, the one who would take her father down. She would mentally go through them in times of stress. A quick deterrent to keep herself in place. A little comfort that there would be more even at their lowest points. What she knew was shackles that held her down and in one place. They were keys to doors she had no other way of opening.

They were lies. Beacon was gone. Ironwood couldn't save her like he had saved Winter. Pyrrha was dead, there would be no graduation, and her father had no plans of just letting her step up and take charge. He would not allow her to become a huntress. She couldn't inherit the company. Leaving the mansion was out of the question. Her face still rings hotly from where his hand had landed. There was only one certainty anymore. Her escape.

She had a plan of course. Weiss Schnee always has a plan. In fact there were three. Each would become increasingly more difficult if the first was thwarted by her father. All were chancy. So she decides to go with the first one that presented itself with an opportunity to be used.

It was a waiting game. Months passed before there was a chance she could leap at. With a smile, Weiss was ready to fly the coop. Freedom lures her away with promises. Endless potential, a chance out from her father's grasp, a way to make her own path in the world just like Winter had, perhaps even a peaceful death at the end of a long life. With every possibility, her feet carried her another step towards the open kitchen window. Weiss doesn't question who opened it. What point was there in pondering whoever else was foolish enough to disobey her father. If this worked they would lose their job, but Weiss could finally escape. In her delirium, only the chance mattered. Who cared if she had no clothes, no money, no way out of the city yet. Answers could be found. She was Weiss Schnee. The Weiss Schnee. If anyone could find a way to make it out of a damaged iron cage, slowly collapsing in on itself, it was her.

One of her heels almost slips on a mop left besides the largest oven. Her arms slams against the counter. Throwing all her weight onto the other foot it takes seconds for her to find balance again. Stumbling in the next few steps, Weiss could now taste freedom. It was fresh air, Ren's pancakes, blood from a fight, victory, chocolate chip cookies, rose tea, Ruby's lips. Her knees scrape against the counter. Soft skin scratches old training cuts open. All those months hunting, and her flesh could still tear so easily. It was frustrating, but now wasn't the time to be angry. Steady hands hold the sill tightly. Nails trimmed so perfectly dig into it's sanded wood. Her head slips through. As her nose catches it's first scent of the outside world in three months pressure builds up on the end of her ponytail.

The young woman was given no time to react. Violently Weiss is dragged back through the window. A brief moment of bliss stolen. Hands flying back weren't fast enough to stop her fall. Her body slams against the marble flooring. With hatred in his eyes Jacques glares down at her. His nostrils flare, as those light blue eyes narrow down at her. He stands imposingly above Weiss as if she was a child again. Just like that a chance was snatched away.

Jacques is quick to yell. Even quicker to bend over her, closing that space he had thrown between them. As his hands shake and move Weiss doesn't move. She doesn't flinch. Her eyes don't watch those hands shaking hands. Not one minute was wasted on thinking about all the lines he had already crossed. Nor would one second ever be spent on them ever again. As his voice rises she starts to hear him less. Every word became less and less important. If it was her body breaking down, or just finally able to tune him out she honestly couldn't tell. It didn't matter anyways. The window was still there. Hauntingly it hangs open, the wind whistling. It calls like a lifelong friend. Every snowflake drifting in more comforting than all the soft moments her father had ever shown in her entire life.

"Get away from me!" Instinct takes over. One moment she's pinned between the floor and her father. The next her hands were in his coat. Red painted nails dig into the soft cloth. His body doesn't budge. Tension builds up under her hands like a geyser about to blow. Moving stiffly, Jacques goes rigid as he watches her struggle to push him away. All that training. All those moments. None of them mattered. He wouldn't stop her. No one could ever stop her again.

A glyph starts to form on his chest between her hands. It glows dimly at first. Barely there and then gone again. Blinking like an eye, in and out of existence several times. Weiss tries to focus on it without looking. She faces her father down. Eye to eye, brute strength against a true brute.

Somehow the old man doesn't notice what's happening. Just like always it was the stuff right under his nose that went unnoticed. When Winter was planning to abandon him she couldn't have been more obvious. Even if she had written a simple note saying 'fuck off I'm leaving' he wouldn't have known. Mother's slow descent to alcoholism. Though she had a deep suspicion that even if he had noticed he wouldn't have stopped it. Whitley's unhealthy obsession with being just like this cruel asshole. Maybe if he was just a little more observant he could actually get more done. If he did there was no way this would work then. So his clueless-ness wasn't all bad. Years of negligence all coming back to bite him in the ass.

"I am your father! Cease this at once!"

Ah the orders. They always followed his temper like good little men dressed up to play their part. Unlike before those words hold no power over her. This imbalance was done!

Loosening her grip Weiss pushes her hands flat against his chest now. Jacques smirks as if that meant he won. Had he always been this quick to accept victory? Possibly. She couldn't recall. With one last grunt it was done. The glyph shines as brightly as the sun had in Vale. Shock, replaces his anger. As she removes her hands those light blue eyes show relief. His body goes flying back against the fridge. The sterile silver metal dents from the impact. With a sense of smug satisfaction Weiss risks taking just a second to look over him.

She doesn't smile. This was a victory but he was still her father. Horrible as he was, she hadn't wanted it to go this far. When did it all go wrong? Could things have been better if just one or two parts of their life was changed? The questions plague her mind even as she climbs back onto the counter.

"I don't think so."

Whirling her head back, Weiss glares Jacques down. "I'm leaving."

"No. You're not." He smirks as his hand slowly rises up. It looks painful. Was every inch causing him agony? Had she gone too far? Hesitating Weiss watches as her father reaches into his coat. There's a soft, smothered click. Alarms blare throughout the house. It stings her ears worse then a pack of beowulf howls.

Weiss turns to climb out the window. Now it was just as much to escape from the sound as it had been to free herself. Before she could even put a hand out metal bars shoot down from outside the window. Heartbroken Weiss holds back her cries. Head hanging low, she couldn't stop her bottom lip from quivering let alone convince her body to stop shaking. The moment to fly free was gone. Once again she was frozen in place. Those shackles of broken promises and opportunities lost begin to climb up her body again. Crawling like inch worms over her skin they wrap around every limb. Her forehead falls against the metal bars. The freezing steel rests comfortably against her skin. It was warm compared to her heart.

"Need a hand?"

That sweet voice felt like it was from another life. It sends warmth flooding through her body. With a force Weiss wasn't used to hope grows within her once more. There, right on the other side of the bars was Ruby. Briefly Weiss wonders if she was a hallucination. Desperately her hands reach out through the bars. They brush against Ruby's cheeks.

With an innocent smile Ruby tilts her head. Resting her fingers over Weiss' hands she holds them there, against the warmth of her cheeks. She has to keep herself from laughing. Trully being in Atlas so long must've frozen her to the core. Ruby felt warm despite her cheeks being flushed a deep, crimson from the cold weather.

"I'm sorry it took so long Weiss."

"You idiot." She laughs, breaking her cruel words up. For a moment Ruby frowns. She lets go of Weiss' hands and reaches through the bars herself.

"I should've been faster. I'm so sorry Weiss."

Weiss viciously shakes her head no. "This isn't on you Ruby. None of this is your fault. Not Beacon, not Pyhrra, not this."

Water builds up in Ruby's eyes. She leans against the metal bars. Her forehead nearly meeting Weiss through them. "I love you Weiss."

Before she could respond Ruby was gone. In a gust of rose petals she flies through the bars. All around her the soft petals gently rub against her skin. They graze her cheeks, and brush against her hair. It really truly was her love. Weiss scoots herself off the counter. As she lands on her high heels Ruby reforms right before her. Almost nose against nose Ruby grabs her hands.

"I brought help."

"It would've been foolish for you to come alone."

"Yeah well, I wanted to once I heard about what happened."

Weiss glances away, averting her gaze. "You'll have to be more specific about what you heard."

The younger girl glares back at Jacques who was seething with anger as he watches the two. Weiss must've hurt her father a lot. Otherwise he would already be standing up again. No matter what he thought he had no chance against Ruby.

Ruby lets out a long high whistle. She wraps her arms against Weiss' waist. There's a loud shout, and then the sound of metal against metal. Twisting around as much as she could against Ruby's hold Weiss catches a glimpse of green. The yelling only grows into a uproarious battle cry. When she looks back at Ruby, she was smiling.

"I wasn't the only one who missed you." With that Ruby lifts Weiss up. Her semblance activates flying them around the kitchen once before they shoot through the now unbarred window. Weiss moves to hold on to Ruby tighter, but her fingers only grasp as hundreds of petals. Fresh air and hits her all at once, almost as powerful as Ruby's arms had been around her. It felt like a dream as they flew away. Far from the prison that used to be her home.

[rareficsnstuff]

Teamwork [Tendou, Kuroo, Bokuto]

Summary: Tendou is the resident tickle monster in his, Bokuto’s, and Kuroo’s apartment and the other two can’t handle it. This was the last straw, but one thing is for sure: you can’t take the tickle monster on alone.

Words: 3,095

AN: Sequel to this. Is this a series now? Also, this is super long... I’m sorry, I couldn’t figure out how to end it...

                                          ____________________

“I’m home!” Kuroo announced to the quiet apartment. He paused in the entry way, a bit perturbed by the lack of activity in their ordinarily lively shared apartment.

“Hello?” Stepping further into the room, he noticed a shock of bright, red hair draped lazily on the arm of the couch. “Tendou?” he whispered. As he approached the lanky figure, coming up to stand behind the couch, he saw his soft, relaxed features and understood that Tendou was asleep. Limp and utterly dead to the world. He smiled softly and turned towards the kitchen, feeling hungry now.

“Oh, that’s right. Bokuto said he’d be hanging out with Akaashi today. I’ll just have leftovers from last night,” he mused aloud before opening the fridge and pulling out a tupper wear container of fried rice and broccoli.

In the other room, a single beady, red eye slowly slit open, peering at the tufts of dark bedhead.

Kuroo continued to prepare his reheated meal, spooning a generous portion into a bowl and placing it in the microwave. As he bent down to punch in the cook time on the number panel, he was suddenly interrupted by his own bellowing shout of surprised and his arms involuntarily slamming down against his sides.

“Hi there, putty tat ~,” Tendou sang sweetly from behind Kuroo. The latter turned, wide-eyed to see hooded eyes and a honeyed expression playing on the red-head’s thin lips.

“Tendou!? Wha- How- how did you-? I-I thought you were asleep!” he finished in a squeak when Tendou wiggled his fingers under his arms again. Kuroo was paralyzed by nerves.

“Was. Woke up when you came in.” He began wiggling his finger in earnest now, making Kuroo convulse before he doubled over, cackling wildly and slowly sinking to the floor.

“NYAAAHahahaa! C’mohon, man! Whyyeehehehaha?!”

“’Why?’...” Tendou shrugged. “’Cuz. It’s fun,” he replied simply as Kuroo slumped fully to the floor. Now kneeling, he leaned against the cabinets as he twisted his torso from side-to-side, desperately trying to dislodge the evil fingers from one of his weakest spots. The overwhelming sensations caused him to collapse further into a fetal position, at witch, Tendou finally pried his fingers out from under his arms in favor of torturing his lower ribs. This made him shoot upright again, flailing backwards to escape the feeling and falling on his ass.

“Duhude, STAP! Cu-HAHAhaa! Cut it aaahahahaout!” With the new position, he was able to put up a meager defense of swatting and grappling at the offending fingers. But it was a loosing battle. Tendou’s skilled, clever hands found their way past his flimsy defense to the sensitive grooves between his ribs and his coordination suffered drastically. Tendou chuckled. He was just too ticklish. Overwhelmed, Kuroo’s head fell back as he howled with laughter, rolling onto his back, hugging himself loosely and legs kicking desperately.

“STAHAHAaa! Tehendou- pleahese! PleAHAHAHAa! Pleahese- I juHAhAha- just wahant fooohoohoooode!" That did it.

Tendou was sent into his own fit of laughter, highly amused by the pitiful, defeated whine.

“Oho my god, man! Haha! I’m gonna have’ta give you that one! That was just… heartbreaking! I actually think I’m crying a little,” he teased feigning a sniffle as he wiped at nonexistent tears with a finger. “Poor baby ~ So cuuute ~!”

“Shuhut up,” Kuroo panted, a smile still pulling at the reluctant corners of his mouth.

Just as Tendou stood, the front door opened once again, ushering Bokuto through with a loud chorus of his signature “Hey, Hey, Heeey!”

“Welcome home, Bo-Bo ~” Tendou gushed, approaching the new arrival in a half-stalking-half-sauntering walk, leaning forward with his hands folded behind his back and his neck craning up at him at an odd, teasing angle, his playful, crooked grin still in place. “Did you have a good time with your old pal?” Bokuto grinned brightly.

“Sure did! We had a lot of catching up to do! He said the volleyball club’s pretty quiet without me there. He totally missed me!” The red-head smiled slyly up at him.

“Sure, Bo-Bo. Whatever you say…”

An exhausted huff sounded from the kitchen and Bokuto peeked around Tendou – the latter looking over his own shoulder – and saw the slumped, worn-out-and-red-faced Kuroo still laying on the floor.

“What happened ta him?” Bokuto asked, looking curiously back at Tendou as he pointed at their other roommate. Rather than giving a reply, Tendou simply reached out and scribbled his fingers over Bokuto’s belly, immediately making the larger of the two burst into light, snorty chuckles and double over in mirth. This attack was short, however, and Bokuto was soon standing upright again, grinning broadly. Tendou sat lazily on the couch, his face smug with pride.

“Gotcha again, did he, Kuroo?” Bokuto teased, going over to him and offering a hand to help him up.

“Not faaaair!” he whined.

“Oh c’mon, man, it’s not that bad.”

“No! You don’t understand, Bo! This was my darkest secret; no one was supposed to know! Now I’m living with a couple of sadistic tickle monsters! Just kill me.” Hearing this, the red tickle monster piped up.

“That can be arranged ~.”

“Nooooo!” Kuroo groaned, hiding his red face in his hands. Both tickle monsters laughed.

“Tendou tickles me too, Kuroo,” Bokuto consoled.

“Yeah, but you’re… YOU!” Bokuto just chuckled, turning to the red-head.

“Are you ticklish, Tendou?” he asked plainly.

“Nope. Sorry.”

“…”

“…”

“Do you believe that?” Bokuto asked, turning back to Kuroo.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Me neither… You wanna-?”

“Yep.”

Abruptly, the two turned, approaching their lanky roommate. Tendou didn’t move, seeming utterly unconcerned about the impending demise. Half sitting, half laying, he had one arm thrown over the back, the other elbow propped up on the arm of the couch and his temple resting on a loose fist. His expression was calm; mocking, but his eyes clearly read ‘try me’. Wasting no time, Bokuto began worming his fingers into his sides. Other than a derisive smirk, there was no reaction – no twitch, no flicker of panic in his eyes, his breathing didn’t even change. Still unconvinced, Bokuto moved in to his stomach, than up to his ribs. A slight squirm. That was all he gave before he suddenly reached forward to knead at Bokuto’s belly. He collapsed, laughing outright and bracing himself with his hands on the couch cushion before he fell completely.

“Bo!” Kuroo shouted, incredulously.

“Iha’m sorry! I cahhAHAHA! I cahan’t help ihihihit!” he wheezed. Tendou grinned wickedly when Bokuto’s knees finally hit the floor. Attempting to rescue his accomplice, Kuroo grabbed for Tendou’s wrists. But the latter was quicker, releasing Bokuto to recover on the floor and catching one of the raven-head’s wrists, pulling him down on top of him and wrapping his arm around his back to plunge his fingers under the exposed arm.

“Shit! NOHO! Stahahaha!” he laughed, free hand trying to find purchase on Tendou’s chest and push himself away from this gremlin. “Boho, heeehehelp!” Recovered but still chuckling, Bokuto stood and successfully grabbed Tendou’s wrists, pulling his hands away from the near-hysterical Kuroo. The sudden freedom caused the force of his restrained momentum to throw him backwards onto the floor with a loud ‘oof’. Tendou looked as if he was trying really hard not to laugh at them.

“You guys are the cutest,” he teased.

“Shut up, scarecrow! This isn’t about us!” Kuroo whined. With Bokuto still restraining his arms, Kuroo stood and grabbed his ankles, pulling them to the other end of the couch into a full laying position against the cushions before taking residence on his hips. Tendou chuckled at the disgruntled look on his face.

“You’re so mad,” he grinned.

“No! I’m desperate! Bokuto’s just curious.” Bokuto nodded in confirmation.

“As true as that may be, I can’t say I’m opposed to some justice on my part, either. Kuroo?” he prompted with a nod to his accomplice.

“With pleasure ~,” Kuroo sang. Figuring it was as good a place as any to start, Kuroo started prodding at Tendou’s ribs, but aside from a growing impish smirk, there was no reaction. “You gotta be kiddin’ me,” he grumbled.

“Like I said: not ticklish.”

“Like I said: I don’t believe you!” he said, fingers traveling under his arms. “I SAW THAT!” Kuroo shouted suddenly, making Bokuto jump a little and look at him curiously.

“Saw what?” Tendou said, scoffingly.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Your abs just contracted! You’re totally trying to hold it in!”

“Okay, fine; I’m ticklish. Are you happy now? Get off me, you overgrown cat,” Tendou drawled, feeling a little panicked when he felt Kuroo’s fingers crawling upwards.

“Oh? You’re giving up already?... Am I getting close to something, Sa-to-ri ~?” Kuroo purred.

“Hey, hey, Kuroo! His ears got pink!” cheered Bokuto. Kuroo hummed teasingly.

“You gettin’ nervous, buddy? Or are you just shy?” he asked, hands momentarily stilling.

“N-no, I just think you guys’ve wasted enough of all our time. Anyways, weren’t you just whining about wanting to ea-WAIT!” he shrieked when Kuroo suddenly began dragging his fingers up his arms again. Surprised by the outburst, he froze again.

“Okay. wait… wait a minute. Are you…?” On a hunch stemming from the reactions Tendou gave the closer he got to the spot, Kuroo slooowly dragged his fingers over his pale, knobby elbows. The unearthly scream that melted into wild, wheezy cackles made both Kuroo and Bokuto’s jaws drop in disbelief and Kuroo had to pause again.

There was a stalled moment of absolute silence in which Tendou was left to realize what had just happened while his two tormentors processed the information. They glanced at each other before suddenly bursting out into amused laughter.

“Duhude! Are you serious?! Your elbows are your tickle spot?!” Bokuto roared in bafflement. Tendou merely set his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to bury his face in his arm, ears and neck darkening in color.

“Oh my god, are you hiding?!” Kuroo asked, grinning like the Cheshire. “Bo, pin his arm down.” Obliging, Bokuto maneuvered around the couch to press one knee just above his armpit and – gathering both wrists into one hand, leaving the other free to torture the red-head as well – pulled taut at the pinned arm. Now Tendou didn’t even have the relief of wiggling that arm to make him feel better. He couldn’t move it at all! Not to mention, he had to deal with three hands now. “Try his neck,” Kuroo directed before delving back into his task of tickling their captive’s elbows.

“GYAAAAHAHAHAA! SHIhit STAAAPphehehehaHAha!” Tendou cackled, head thrashing and legs kicking helplessly.

“Wait, Kuroo, I can’t tell if he’s ticklish here or not. Stop tickling him for a sec.” Kuroo withdrew and Tendou took the chance to heave in oxygen. But his momentary relief was interrupted by curious fingers skittering around his neck again and he tensed. Spidering touches on the sides had his lips quivering and sharp, sporadic breaths forced through his nose. His throat and jaw weren’t much different, but the back… Specifically his hairline threw him into a full-on, bubbly giggle fit with the occasional mini snort mixed in.

“Tsehehehehaha! Stahahehe-sniq! Boho-Bo, dooohohon’t-hehaha!” Bokuto grinned.

“Aww ~. Too much?... Too bad ~.” His fingers suddenly jumped to feather over his ears and Tendou squealed.

“Naaheheheh! Oho-gahehed, stahAAA-NAHAHAO!” Kuroo had joined in, tormenting his elbows again.

“You sure seem to talk big for someone who’s got ticklish elbows, Satori! What’s with that?! Maybe now you’ll think twice before you decide to be a brat, huh?!” he lectured, shouting over Tendou’s wild, high-pitched cackling.

“NAHATA CHAHAHANCEHEHEheheheeeh!” Even while drowning in laughter, he still managed to be a snarky, defiant little snot. Kuroo and Bokuto laughed, stilling their hands to give him a rest.

“Are yo-heheheh. A-are you dohone now? Ihi’m gonna pass ohohout,” he panted.

“Oh, we’re not even close to done, bud!” Bokuto said, accenting with fluttering fingers against his ribs. To their surprise, it caused him to erupt into light, breathy giggles as he attempted, again, to hide his face.

“Wait, what?! You weren’t ticklish there a second ago!” said Kuroo in delighted astonishment. “What, did you have it switched off before?!” He joined Bokuto, relishing in this new information.

“I thought I saw you squirmin’ earlier! Oh, you’re good, Tendou! You almost had me convinced!” said Bokuto, grinning.

“I-heeheheheheh! Dahaheheeh! Stahappt!”

“As fun as this is, Bo, we gotta get his other half,” said Kuroo, never stopping his fingers.

“You’re right. Hang on, scooch down a bit…” Taking his knee off his arm, Bokuto lifted Tendou’s wrists above his head, suspending the smaller of the two several inches off the couch. Tendou started squirming in new panic as the white tickle monster moved to sit in the new space behind him, pinning his hands to his chest with one hand. As soon as he was settled in, Kuroo turned away from the two, taking perch on his upper thighs and, with one last, evil look over his shoulder, he began squeezing at the meat of his thighs. Although his legs squirmed and Bokuto could feel his back tensing and untensing, the only sounds he made were spastic breaths through his nose. He was smiling, though.

“Really? That’s it? Wow. Okay, what about here?” said Kuroo, tickling down to his knees. A snort and the giggles were back along with an increase in his squirming. “Well, that’s better, but, knowing you, I bet the good stuff is riiiight… here!”

Screaming. You’d think he was being murdered. Tendou couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard. His free leg kicking any way it could, back arched and his head thrown back onto Bokuto’s shoulder as waves of screaming laughter were torn from his lungs. Kuroo had leaned forward to grab a hold of one of his ankles to keep his leg still before he started spidering at his shin and kneading his calf. Just as he had suspected, this was his death spot. A weird spot for a weird guy.

“NAAAAHAHAHAOO! NAAAO- STAHAP! OH- GAHAHAD- STAAAP!” Kuroo grinned back at Bokuto who was laughing warmly at poor Tendou’s predicament. The red-head’s laughter almost stuttered and a jolt shot through his body when he felt the monster behind him join in with his free hand, switching between skittering his finger over his elbows and digging into his ribs. At this point, tears were beginning to roll down his cheeks and his face, neck, and ears nearly matching the color of his hair. Bokuto felt him go limp as he lost any ability to fight back and his laughter was going silent. The monsters took his weakened state as their cue to give him a break and shift positions once more: Kuroo climbed off his legs, allowing him to pull his knees to his chest in flimsy defense and Bokuto released his wrists, squeezing out from behind him, only to let him fall onto his side in a fetal position as he buried his face in the back of the couch, giggling breathlessly.

“Well, Satori ~,” Kuroo purred, kneeling on the cushion by Tendou’s feet. “Seems the big, bad tickle monster’s pretty ticklish himself ~.”

“Dude, you match your hair,” Bokuto chaffed, gold eyes sparkling with mischief. He glanced at Kuroo, meeting his eyes and, as if they had read each other’s minds, spoke in unison.

“You’re so cuuuute ~!”

“Oh, gohohooood,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Aww ~, what’s the matter, buddy ~? Can’t handle what you dish out ~?” sang Bokuto, bending over his huddled form and squeezing at his rib cage with one hand while the other tickled at the back of his neck. Tendou’s shoulders scrunched up and his knees pressed tighter to his chest as he tried to curl further into the thin protection, squirming weakly.

“Gyahaha! Bo-Bo, c’mohohon! I-heheehehehe- NO! Dahahaheheheh! You guhuys, please!” Kuroo had decided to torture his lower legs again, making Tendou give a startled kick before curling back into himself and resorting to just fluttering his legs sporadically. Being exhausted and thoroughly tickled-out, the torture drew out a new kind of laughter. A string of giggles, sprinkled heavily with hiccups and tiny gasps bouncing off his tongue and trickling out of his mouth had both Kuroo and Bokuto cooing gleefully.

“Staha-ahaha! Stahap, pleahehehehese! You gohot me, okahay! I-hi give up! The tihickle monster gihives up! Yohou’re gonna kihill meeeehehehehe! I-I-hahaha! I cahahaheheheh! I chahahan’t-hahaaahehehehe-hehehe! Pleeeeehehehease!”

“You think he’s had enough?” asked Bokuto, looking to his accomplice for confirmation.

“Mmn… Yeah, I guess. He did say please.”

Finally, they relented. Kuroo adjusted to sit normally on the couch, one arm thrown over the back as he grinningly observed Tendou’s unfaltering giggle fit. Bokuto pulled back and settled himself criss-cross on the floor in front of the couch, beaming and eyes sparkling with child-like joy.

“You can stop laughing, Tendou. We’re not tickling you anymore,” he said with an amused chuckle.

“I-hehehe! I knohow! I’m tryihihing, but I-hehehehaha…!”

“Tendou’s got the giggles ~.” Kuroo sang, quickly skittering his fingers under his socked toes and making him squeak.

Several minutes later, Tendou finally calmed down to sighing pants of breath, bright smile still clearly present.

“Gotcha good, huh?” said Bokuto. The others chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah… I deserved that.”

“Okay, but seriously: your shins, your calves, and your elbows, man?! Those are such weird places to be ticklish!” shouted Kuroo incredulously.

“I can’t help it. That’s just the way I am… Why are you so overly ticklish everywhere?”

“This ain’t about me…” Kuroo deadpanned.

“Wait, there was something else…” Bokuto mused. “Do you get more ticklish the longer someone tickles you? ‘Cus you didn’t react hardly at all until we got your elbows. But then, all of a sudden, your ribs had you squirmin’ real bad. What’s up with that?” Tendou blushed.

“I… Yeah- well… Not exactly… It tickled the whole time, but- but I can usually stand it for a while… unless you get one of the kill-spots…” he pouted.

“You ticklish everywhere?” Kuroo asked, honestly curious.

“Pretty much.”

“You’re all red again ~,” Bokuto teased. Tendou looked away and the other two grinned.

“WELL!... I’m getting food,” Kuroo said abruptly, standing up from the couch and heading for the kitchen where he had left his food so long ago.

“Food sounds good.” Bokuto followed.

“… I hope you guys know this means war,” Tendou warned, smirking over his shoulder at them. Kuroo stiffened.

“You know what, Bo? This is all your fault…” Bokuto just laughed.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #50

UPDATE 50: Parasite

Last time Shadow Stalker was baited and defeated by the Undersiders – all of them, including Skitter. Yeah, looks like she has reconciled with the Undersiders enough to work with them! It may be the first time they cooperate, because the Protectorate’s information stated Skitter worked alone. Let’s continue with a new arc: Parasite!

Yeah, now that the interlude arc is over, it’s back to Taylor’s point of view! Or more like Skitter’s point of view, because she is in Supervillain Mode right now, so to say. The Undersiders are inside a building filled with trash bags and litter. The services in this city aren’t active right now – for the most part – so the trash is piling up. The quality of life in Brockton Bay is pretty low right now, golly. Is everything like this in cities where major disasters happen? I’d suppose so. I think if I ever were in a situation like this, I’d be at a loss of what to do. Moving out of the city would be the option I’d like to do, but moving away and starting a new life requires a lot of money, and even more if you lost your possessions and home.

The reason why they are in this building is because they’re bringing Shadow Stalker here, Grue has her over his shoulder like she is a sack of potatoes. She’s going to be so happy to know her, hm, rival is the one carrying her, hah! Imp, whose ability, identity and backstory are still unknown to me so she’s more like a big question mark, is here too. Planning anytime soon to tell what’s going on, Mr. Wildbow?

You mean to say Heckpuppy hasn’t been a bundle of joy lately? Wow, who’d have guessed? She was never the cheeriest person in the team, but the loss of all those dogs must have been a rather rough emotional blow. They’re like her closest family, leaving aside the Undersiders who are, uh, not as close to her as her dogs are. At least I can say for sure that she isn’t the type to be mournful or get shellshocked by grief, she’s going to channel all that into rage.

Of course, I couldn’t deny that a big part of her attitude was me and the fact that I was here.

...right, that’s a—that’s a problem too. She sure must hate your guts right now.

The apartment they have decided to stash Shadow Stalker in has been abandoned. Everything that was useful or valuable was taken by the people that used to reside there, all that’s left is furniture. Good enough place to stay.

Tying Shadow Stalker to the chair is easy. Of course, they made sure to search for any weapons and ammunition she had – I’m convinced she’ll have a way to injure them even without her preferred weapons, so they better still be careful. The smartphone and earpiece provided by the Wards are taken by Tattletale, she’ll keep a watch on those, it seems, fiddling with the smartphone and making sure the GPS is turned off. All in order, but will everything be okay in a few hours?

Imp sure is talking to Grue with a lot of familiarity, mocking him, while Grue sighs and seems kind of...exasperated? Quite daring for a newbie, this Imp. Did Coil hire her like she did to the rest of the Undersiders? I doubt the situation was the same than how they found Skitter, so yeah, I think it’s likely she was hired. She can annoy everyone all she wants, but I’m pretty sure she would stay on the team unless she seriously botches a mission, which is pretty much impossible: no way Coil would hire someone who wasn’t good at villainy in every way possible!

The team is setting up the most basic appliances for a short stay. For a moment I thought they’d try to hook up Shadow Stalker to the generator somehow, I was already going all ‘what the heck’, and then I remembered her weakness to electricity. Say, by the way, Heckpuppy isn’t happy at all, and indeed, the more Skitter talks about this, the more convinced I am it’s because of her presence – and she’s raising some very good points as to why Heckpuppy would be so pissed off at her, leaving aside the whole betraying part.

I couldn’t blame her for being angry.  Her dogs, some of her closest friends in the world, had died because she had been saving me, only for her to find out shortly afterward that I had been a traitor.

Oh, definitely! Sacrificing her beloved dogs to save someone who had once intended to betray the team? Anyone would be angry! I wouldn’t be surprised if Heckpuppy came to the conclusion that was a stupid move, that she should have left Skitter die, but...yeah, I think she wouldn’t have left her no matter what, back then. Whether it’d be out of obligation to the team or because she didn’t want Skitter to die is up in the air, though, but I think...it’d be mostly because of the first reason, with a little bit of the second.

Get ready, Undersiders, Shadow Stalker woke up. You guys got a way to stop her from escaping at the first chance? Ah, right, they used extension cords to tie her up, cords they then connected to the generator and to the fridge. They weren’t getting ready for a short stay. It was to maybe keep a constant electrical current going through the extension cords. Wow, I should have realized that sooner. One more time I fail to notice something that seems obvious in hindsight.

As expected, Shadow Stalker isn’t scared or anything like that. She’s groggy, what after everything she went through. She doesn’t even deny she tried to kill Skitter, although...yeah, I think anyone can figure out why she’d try that. So what now? They can’t keep Shadow Stalker here forever, so what’ll happen now?

They all turned to look at Regent. This seems to get Shadow Stalker to freak out for once in her life.

Her eyes went wide behind the eyeholes of her mask, and she pulled hard against her bonds, “No!  Fuck! Have you seen his files?  You don’t know-”

...huh. Looks like I’m out of the loop in this. Now that I think about this, it was mentioned Regent has some sort of secret weapon, something he couldn’t use against Leviathan. That must be what has Shadow Stalker so scared. What does it entail? His power gives very momentary control of a person’s nervous system, making the target do involuntary movements, so...eeeeeh...maybe it’d be something along the lines of a much more powerful version of his power? Controlling a person’s entire body?

The problem about that is that I’m not sure why they’d bother to take control of Shadow Stalker. What’s their objective, what would they intend to do? That’s what puzzles me the most.

To make this work, Regent needs to be alone with Shadow Stalker, to make her comply, it seems. How long whatever he will do depends on how cooperative she is.

“Depends on her.  Could be fifteen minutes, could be three hours.”

She’s not going to go down easy. It surely is going to take hours, and by then I bet the Wards would already be alert, thinking something went wrong.

Looks like it’s time to play the waiting game. So...what’s up, guys? Feel like giving exposition about what has happened since the whole problem with Skitter happened? It has been, what, a couple weeks since then? Clearly a lot happened, what with the new team member and the loss of the place at the Docks and the other gangs rising to power. What has everyone been doing so far?

The part about the dogs shedding excess flesh never stops being gross.

Imp clearly isn’t very good at playing the waiting game. She wants to watch television, but since this apartment is supposed to have no electricity, they can’t. It’s imperative they go unnoticed. It doesn’t stop her from insisting, almost...whining. Hm. I’m not entirely convinced yet about this new development regarding Imp being a new part of the team...

Grue waited until Imp disappeared from sight before groaning, “It’s tiring, dealing with her.”

“All of us irritated each other when we first joined the team.  Give it time.  We’ll find a rhythm.” Tattletale reassured him.

Skitter didn’t irritate anyone! She blended quite well into the team. Looks like Grue thought the same, but refrained from actually saying it. I imagine that when the Undersiders formed for the first time, it took quite a while before they actually started behaving like a team...

...you know, now I’m wondering how each of the people here would be faring if they weren’t in the Undersiders. Would they have been in another team? Would they have stayed as rogues, committing minor crimes? Hm...

Tattletale and Skitter will watch out for anything strange while the rest sleep and try to kill some time. Good time as any to reflect on what’s going on, eh, Skitter?

We were doing this to Sophia, I told myself.  The same girl who had abused, insulted and tormented me almost every school day since I’d started high school.  She’d punched, kicked and shoved me.  Had ruined my belongings, insulted me, thrown food at me, humiliated me, and had goaded others into doing much the same things.  She was the one who had pushed me to that do-or-die point where my powers manifested.  If that wasn’t enough, she had tried to kill me less than an hour ago, not because I was a criminal that deserved the death penalty, but because I had seen her unmasked. I was inconvenient.

And with all that in mind, I couldn’t be sure that she deserved this.

Depends on what ‘this’ is. Having her body be controlled? Hm...hard to say. Sure, why not. It’s not like Shadow Stalker is some sort of saint. She has piled a lot of bad karma, to say the least. All she has done has been cruel, and it’s not like Taylor has been the only one who has suffered here, she has treated a lot of people like dirt. She doesn’t deserve death, so that’s out of the question, but personally I’m not going to feel any sympathy towards her.

The good thing about Skitter’s power is that it allows her to use them as sentinels, just in case someone comes. She can sit back, read a book, muse about how peaceful Heckpuppy looks among her dogs...

Nobody is having a relaxing time, Shadow Stalker is suffering in the kitchen, flickering between her shadow state and normal physical body. A way to try to resist against Regent’s power, perhaps?

Imp, I could sense, was taking apart the teenager’s room, finding CDs and DVDs and holding them up by the window, maybe to see them in the light, as I was with my book.  I hadn’t known her to rest in the three days I’d known her.

Ah, I see. So it has been three days since Skitter returned to the team. Yeah, her need to rest would depend on her power, there are characters already shown whose power makes them not need as much rest as other people. I can’t seem to deduce what power Imp has. Usually a cape’s name could be a good indication of what it could be, but with Imp I’m clueless. Imps are known for being...well...impish, so I’m expecting a trickster type of person. She kind of has the right personality for that, but I’m not sure what power she’d have.

Some time later of waiting and worrying, Skitter checks her insects’ reports. All in order...except that now Regent is unmoving and Shadow Stalker disappeared. Alarmed, Skitter stands up, says ‘fuck!’ and alerts everyone just in time for Shadow Stalker to appear behind her, shove her to the ground, and aim an arrow directly to Skitter’s eye. Nobody makes a move to stop her.

Shadow Stalker started laughing, then stood, holstering her crossbow.  I felt Regent stand in the other room.  When the kitchen door opened, he was laughing as well – the exact same cadence as Shadow Stalker.

...success! He did it! He is now controlling Shadow Stalker, and by the looks of this, he can even use her powers, judging by how she got all the way behind Skitter without anyone being alerted. The only way I can see that happening is if she was in her shadow state.

But yeah, they have done it! Way to go, team! You now have a Ward under your control. I really doubt it’s permanent, so I’m expecting there to be some sort of time limit. What I’m not sure yet is what’s the objective of all this. I doubt they’re doing this out of vengeance for Skitter, because no way she’s going to waltz back into the Undersiders and request their help to have revenge on Sophia Hess. Not only that, Skitter also was hesitant about all this. No, there must be something else going on.

It has been a while since I did more than one chapter in one single update, but since this one was shorter than others, I’ll go to the next one now.

The first line already makes this promising:

3 Days Ago

As I read just a moment ago, Skitter has known Imp for three days, so...looks like this is back to the beginning! I wonder...could it be that this chapter shows what has happened during these three days? Since the arc is called ‘Parasite’, I think it’ll be focused on Shadow Stalker being controlled, but I doubt Mr. Wildbow will summarize these three days in a paragraph or two and go for the current events.

This is going to be the first encounter with the Undersiders since Skitter left the team. Lisa, being as supportive as usual, reassures Taylor she will be with her. As long as Lisa is here I don’t think it’ll turn too ugly, although...I don’t have high hopes for Rachel’s patience. They go in. This building is...a temporal base, perhaps? It’s at the Docks, so yeah, it may be.

Aisha is here? Why is she here? Could it be that she is Imp? Hmmm...so, Alec’s reaction when Taylor enters isn’t welcoming, he sounds either in disbelief or annoyed, which is more than I had expected from Alec. I thought he wouldn’t react much. I’m more concerned about Brian and Rachel...better brace for impact, just in case.

Oh, there she is, the person I was dreading to see! Rachel strides forward and doesn’t waste any time in punching Taylor right in the face, knocking her to the floor.

“I deserved that.”

Hm, you may want to be careful, Taylor. I’m sure it isn’t your intention, but if they perceive you as you trying to make yourself look like some sort of martyr, they’re not going to like that. A lot of people don’t like when someone who betrayed them acts like a martyr.

Bam! A kick to the shoulder, Taylor is on the floor again. Thankfully, Lisa intervenes, telling Rachel to stop. I’m sure nobody expected her to listen, she’s not going to let her fury dissipate so easily. Also! Before I forget!

It spoke volumes that while Lisa stepped forward so she could defend me, Grue and Alec didn’t.

Oh, it speaks volumes alright! I can’t say I know what exactly is going through their minds, but not trying to stop Rachel is almost like tacit approval, isn’t it? They’re allowing her to hit Taylor. I’m pretty sure neither of them is as angry as Rachel is, but they’re not going to get in the way to spare Taylor. It sure must be horrible...to see the friends you trust not bothering to help you when another friend is kicking you while you’re down.

Nobody’s enthusiastic about talking to Taylor. Brian, who in the past would have been warm if a bit subdued, is far from welcoming. Sure, he stops Rachel from attacking further, but that doesn’t mean much once Rachel was allowed to hit Taylor a couple times.

He’s going to believe Lisa’s testimony – I’d hope so!

He leveled a serious look at me, “Lisa said you were, and when it comes down to the two of you, I’m going to choose her.  What Armsmaster said made too much sense, and a few of the little things about you suddenly made a lot of sense.”

Yeah, anyone would trust what Lisa says, and she has been in the team for longer than Taylor, anyway. I don’t think Brian expects Lisa to defend Taylor and advocate for her, though. You know what I’m a bit worried about? That even if Lisa vouches for Taylor’s honesty, they don’t believe her, thinking she just wants to cover for Taylor and get her back in the team no matter what.

Even though Taylor insists she did once want to betray them and then changed her mind because Armsmaster is a jackass – true as truth – and that she thought of them as friends, nobody is in a hurry to believe her. Only Aisha and Lisa refrain from glaring at her. Man, maybe...maybe Taylor should have talked about this when she changed her mind. Sure, it would have damaged the friendships and I’m sure Rachel would have been just as pissed off, and Brian would be disappointed, but maybe at least she wouldn’t be treated like trash a dog brought in. I’m still unsure how Alec would feel. He’s angry too right now, that much I can see.

Taylor is being as sincere as possible, but they don’t believe her. Even after she pours her heart out, Brian is dismissive and even stops Lisa from speaking, insisting in making Taylor explain herself with her own words. Come on, Taylor, you can do it!

I turned to Brian, “You remember when we were on the way to your apartment, what happened?”

...huh? I’m not sure what idea she just got, nor where this is going. I hope Taylor knows what she is doing.

She is bringing up the awkward conversation from when she told Brian she was interested in him, and is forced to spill the details for Aisha and Alec’s benefit. She doesn’t go in much detail, but she admits what she told Brian back then.

“Ahhhh,” Alec responded.

“I knew it! Totally knew it from the second I saw you at his apartment!”  Aisha cackled.

Haha, everyone saw it coming! It’s a shame it didn’t lead anywhere, and I think it’s unlikely they’ll be in a relationship in the future either. Oh well. The thought of Brian and Taylor being in a relationship will have to be a nice thought, I guess. Somehow, this scores a point on Taylor’s favor, as far as Alec is concerned.

“I said bullshit,” Alec repeated himself.  “Taylor said it herself, she sucks ass when it comes to lying and being smooth.”

Goodness, blunt as usual! I mean, it’s true, but Alec sure didn’t mince any words! He argues that Taylor was sincere, that she can’t lie and be deceitful intentionally. The most she can do is lie by omission. Yeah, despite everything, Taylor has trouble lying, especially to someone she cares about. I remember the awkward and almost heart wrenching conversations she had with her father. I’m pretty sure a couple times she was close to telling the truth back then, partly because she didn’t know how to lie more.

Alec added to his earlier comment, “I don’t ever pay attention to that team drama shit, and I picked up on the fact that she liked you.  It was so obvious it was irritating.”

Yeah, it was. If even Rachel picked up on that, then it was very obvious. This defense isn’t the most flattering, but at least she has Alec starting to lean towards believing her, and that’s a win, isn’t it? Brian continues insisting her interest in him was an act.

“You don’t really believe that,” Lisa replied, “You’re pissed at us.  I don’t blame you.  I’d be pissed at us, too.  But you’re only calling her a liar because it’s a hell of a lot easier to be angry at her if you think the person you befriended was a fake.”

Denial does make a lot of things much easier to deal with, but in the end it’s not going to lead anywhere. I don’t think Brian is ever going to believe she was sincere, even if he forgives her for what happened. But yeah, the sides are clear now: Rachel and Brian are much more reticent to allow her back, and Brian even makes clear things won’t be like they were before.

I already knew that Dinah is the one thing that got Taylor to realize how deep she was getting in her role as a supervillain, and what the consequences of some of her acts were. I also knew that was the cause of the disagreement that led to Taylor parting ways. So where does all that lead? To Taylor’s current plan of action:

Lisa had convinced me.  I would only solve this by getting in Coil’s good graces, talking to him as someone he could respect and listen to.

...huh. Well she’s not wrong, it’d be much easier to do this while being inside Coil’s organization than while she’s outside. The problem I see is that Coil’s power will make it much more difficult to get away with it. This is going to need a lot of planning, ways to ensure you’ll succeed, some way to make sure any action you take won’t lead to a dead end. One misstep could mean the end.

Also...hm, respect? Eh, maaaaaaaybe. But listening to Taylor? That’s not so likely. It’s going to take ages before Coil listens to her, and I don’t think Taylor has the time to let everything continue for long.

So yeah, to achieve acceptance by Coil, she’ll have to work for him. It’s not going to be pretty but yeah, what other option does she have? She’s even willing to forgo her pay! All she wants is to be back in the team no matter what, because she can’t do anything while she’s out. Her personal feelings are a big reason for this, too. At least this time Taylor was honest about part of her intentions for returning, that’s once another point in her favor.

Alec is officially on Taylor’s side! Great!

“You’re wound up, Brian, maybe it’s Taylor being gone, maybe it’s Aisha and your dad getting attacked, maybe it’s the general situation with the city, but it’s getting miserable to be around you.”

...oooooh, I think I get it now. So Aisha and her father got attacked recently...did I get it right? If that happened, could it be that she had a trigger event, something that has turned her into a parahuman soon to be known as Imp? That’d explain why she is here, and why she was acting so flippantly towards Brian in the last chapter. Have a tentatively ‘welcome to the team’, Aisha!

It’s time for a vote. Aisha doesn’t get to vote, Alec and Lisa are voting ‘yes’, Rachel is voting ‘no’, so it’s up to Brian.

Brian shook his head, “I don’t know what to tell you, Rachel.  Alec’s right, for once.  We need her.  We need the firepower, out there, at the very least.  Looking at this objectively, I think I’d have to say we should keep her.”

So he chooses to leave aside emotions and focus on this from a purely pragmatic point of view. It’s undeniable Taylor is a force everyone in the city will have to watch out for, and her synergy with the team is pretty good. Having her in the team would increase their chances of success a lot. Those are Brian’s reasons to accept her back, and nothing more than that. Welcome back, Taylor!

“Thank you,” I said, quietly, to Brian.

Brian shook his head, “Don’t thank me.  Alec’s right when he says that we’ll probably get over this.  Maybe we’ll even become friends again and get to the point where we can talk about it.  But that isn’t going to happen today, and definitely not right here and now.”

I have faith that will happen. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be able to read it in person while it happens. What I don’t know is how soon it will be. I doubt it’ll be anytime soon, so...yeah, maybe in a few arcs? If it even happens on-screen. This will be something to look forward to, the possibility things will return to normal between Taylor and Brian. I don’t think Rachel and Taylor will be friends again, and Alec and Taylor seem to be on okay terms, so...yep, all is more or less back to normal except for Brian’s behavior.

And that’s what happened three days ago! Now it’s time to return to the present, to the times when Regent has been controlling Shadow Stalker. Should I take this as meaning this is a job from Coil? Since it clearly isn’t for Taylor’s personal gain, and I doubt the Undersiders decided to torment Sophia out of revenge and protective feelings towards Taylor.

Oh, looks like I was wrong. What they’re doing now is watch a building where desperate people who are affiliated with the Merchants are at: looters. They have provisions and stuff. So then does this mean Shadow Stalker is like a backup fighter? Do they intend to make her a, um, “honorary Undersider”, at lack of a better term? Like using her to have an advantage over their enemies. Besides, if word gets out that Shadow Stalker is cooperating with the Undersiders, that’d damage her reputation.

Desperation is quite the incentive for the looters to fight back. The Undersiders will have to be careful.

Apparently the looters stashed a small fortune here, surely under the orders of the Merchants. Somehow I find a bit hard to believe a bunch of desperate people and looters would stash a small fortune anywhere. They’d be likely to take some of that for themselves out of desperation.

Fighting them was really easy, and once the situation was under control, Shadow Stalker appeared and shot tranquilizing darts into people. Well, Regent is making her do that, Shadow Stalker isn’t so “kind”. One single superhero defeated a group of villains! That’s going to be a bit hard to believe, given how hard the Undersiders kicked the heroes’ asses during the dinner a few arcs ago, but hey, people gossip. I bet once the Undersiders are gone, the looters will spread the word about what just happened.

Once everyone was...sedated, or at least pretending to be sedated because it’d be hella stupid to sedate yourself when you’re in middle of enemy territory, Shadow Stalker calls for reinforcements, the PRT arriving soon. Shadow Stalker acts as dismissive and angry as usual. Can’t be too hard to act like that.

“Protocol states we use containment foam, especially when there’s an unknown.”

“The girl with the horns?  Mover three, teleports through shadows,” Shadow Stalker lied.  “None of them can escape restraints on their own.”

Lied, huh. So she can’t teleport through shadows...does that mean she can teleport through something else? A teleporter could be useful for the Undersiders, yeah.

“But if Grue uses his power-“

Shadow Stalker turned, then fired another dart into Grue.  “Satisfied?”

We’d drained the darts of the sedative, of course.  Still, I was betting Grue would have words for Regent after this was over and done with.

Oh, pffft, as if Regent would pass the chance to hit Grue gratuitously with a dart. So classy, that was. I bet he’d do it again if he wanted.

Apparently it’s still the same night Shadow Stalker was caught, it’s well past midnight now. Shadow Stalker rather rudely talks to the captain of the PRT group who came here, telling them to listen to her already and just shove the team in the truck.

So many ways this could go wrong.

We had safeguards, of course, including but not being limited to Coil’s assistance.  Still, there was something profoundly unsettling about allowing myself to be cuffed and imprisoned.

Ah, so their objective was to be arrested by the PRT without being subdued by the foam. That’s what Shadow Stalker was for, as a Ward, she’d be able to capture villains and call the PRT. The looters that were in the area saw Shadow Stalker defeat an entire team, and they will testify about it to the PRT. All in all, it’s not a bad plan, but I still fail to see what the point of this all is, because it’s very risky! The payoff better be amazing, they’re putting their freedom on the line here, even if they have Coil backing them up with his power!

Everyone is okay, if a bit roughed up. They’re taken to the PRT headquarters, the Wards came to see Shadow Stalker and receive the group she captured singlehandedly. It doesn’t seem like any of the Wards suspect there’s something off, maybe she wasn’t gone for as long as I thought she’d be.

“They were distracted, I picked them off.  That little freak that saw me with my mask off was wearing armor, so I had to resort to CQC,” Shadow Stalker made it sound matter-of-fact.

I had to look up that term. Close quarters combat, apparently. Good touch, the Wards are well aware Shadow Stalker wouldn’t have missed the chance to resort to that. Not all is good, though, Weld is sharp and demands to hear this week’s password. They have passwords in case someone is impersonating a Ward? Alright! Also, good to see Weld is being careful. This password thing would almost be a problem, if it weren’t for Tattletale being here. If there’s someone who could have guessed the password, it’s her, even if she can get it wrong.

Yep, that was easy. Not bad! Also!

“So,” Weld said, “Keeping in mind that Regent is the highest rated Master in the city”

He is? I did expect him to be known and feared, but I didn’t think he was the highest rated Master in Brockton Bay. No surprise there, though, his power’s ultimate move is scary.

Everyone starts bringing the Undersiders into the building. If their objective was to get in, then they managed to do it. Do you know what the problem I see is? Getting out. That can’t be easy, what with the Wards being here.

On one level, I wasn’t surprised to hear that.  I knew, cognitively, that she had that kind of personality.   But emotionally?  I hadn’t really believed it.  It caught me off guard to hear she was that big a problem in the Wards, as well.

It’s every bit as bad as you’d think it is, Skitter. To say Shadow Stalker is not a team player would be an understatement.

It’s rather good to see that Shadow Stalker’s earlier assault on Vista will bring consequences of some sort, even if it’s just a slap on the wrist. Or maybe not, this may be just to fool Shadow Stalker/Regent into revealing what’s going on, because Weld tells her to apologize to Kid Win. This guy is good! He’s actually making it more difficult to pull this off!

Lucky guess, Regent. Well done. It’s not enough, though, Weld demands to hear who exactly Shadow Stalker slighted earlier. Three options, 33% chance of getting it right. Let’s hear the answer!

“Clockblocker,” she guessed.

...welp. This mission is already going badly. It was nice to have things going according to plan for a while. Good luck, guys. Time for a rematch, just that the Wards are a bit different now than they were during the bank heist.

The chapter ends with Weld alerting everyone this is a trap. I’ll continue next time!

Next update: four updates

[little-bookbird]

Drunken Dreams

JILY CHALLENGE | @aly-cat-scat vs. @thecupcakeconsumer 

Muggle College AU: “You’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch oh god you’re going to be so confused in the morning.”

In the door to the kitchen stood a willowy girl with ginger hair and green eyes. She was wearing an old t-shirt and leggings—both too small to be worn as anything other than pyjamas. On the long, fabric couch that took up most of the kitchen lay a lanky boy with a bird’s nest of black hair and square glasses that were pressed awkwardly against the cushion. The girl was Lily Evans, one of the students who shared the flat. The boy was of as yet undetermined identity.

Lily wasn't entirely sure how the boy had managed to get into her flat, but the fact remained that he had managed somehow because he was passed out and snoring over the hideous cushions that Marlene’s mother had bought as an Easter gift.

"Cas!" she called over her shoulder, "Why is there a boy on the sofa?"

Dorcas Dearborn―the only one of Lily’s flatmates currently in the apartment and the person upon whom Lily could always rely to find out what on earth was happening―stuck her head out of her room and raised an eyebrow quizzically. Lily waved her hands in the direction of the kitchen and the intruder.

"Oh, right. Yeah, that's James Potter. He's in my cultural studies class and he's some sort of relation of mine. Third cousins twice removed or something ridiculous like that. He hangs around with Black and that lot—wait, you know Remus, don't you-"

"What is he doing in our kitchen, Cas?" Lily interrupted. Dorcas Dearborn was one of Lily's dearest friends, but she was rather inclined to deviate from whatever point she was trying to make at any given time.

Dorcas made a face but stopped the tirade of information to answer the question. "He was drunk so he climbed in the window."

Lily blinked a few times, then mouthed the sentence to herself as she attempted to parse it, as though a mute repeat would somehow give the explanation some semblance of sense. It didn't, so she tried again with audio.

"He was drunk…so he climbed in the window."

"Yeah."

"In what world is 'so' the correct conjunction there?"

Dorcas opened her mouth to respond, but the two girls were interrupted by a groan from the kitchen. Lily glanced back at Dorcas just in time to catch her ducking back into her bedroom. She rolled her eyes but didn't move, just stayed stood on the threshold of the kitchen as the boy—James Potter—stretched and groaned his way out of sleep.

"Pete? Fuck, how much did we drink last night. Ugh, Remus, you couldn't do your best mate a favour and stick some bacon on, could you?" He opened his eyes blearily and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before blinking and sitting bolt upright, his back to Lily. "That's not our ceiling. And that's definitely not our calendar."

The calendar, incidentally, was another gift from Marlene’s mother, featuring disproportioned dog photos.

Lily didn't move. Potter swung his legs over the side of the couch and almost managed to get to his feet before crumpling with the heel of his palm pressed to his temple.

"Do you want some aspirin?" Lily asked, taking a cautious step towards the pitiable heap on the kitchen floor. The lump shifted and a scruffy head emerged to squint at her.

"Do I know you?"

"No."

"How do I know you're not trying to poison me?"

"Because if I wanted to get rid of you, I'd just let you die of this hangover."

The scrunched up features tried to assemble themselves into an expression that was possibly supposed to resemble a withering glare, but there wasn't much weight behind it as Lily could just step over him to reach the fridge. She did exactly that and tugged it open to grab the two litre bottle of still water before searching the cupboards for a half-decent glass to pour some out. Once the glass was full enough for a couple of mouthfuls without presenting any obvious spilling issues to hangover-impaired persons, she dug out a packet of tablets from the last cupboard over the sink.

She left the glass on the table in front of the couch, along with the medicine, and told Potter not to move while she went to get changed.

On the way to her bedroom, Lily took a detour via Dorcas’. She opened the door without bothering to knock and stood with her arms crossed and eyes glinting through the reflection at Dorcas, who looked up from where she was violently scrubbing at her short, blonde hair with a thinning red towel.

“Has he asked you for your hand in marriage yet?”

For the second time that morning, Lily ran through Dorcas’ words a couple of times to see if they made sense when she tried them. When they didn’t, she asked what on earth Dorcas was talking about.

“Huh. Either he’s doing well or he’s doing so badly that he doesn’t even know who you are,” Dorcas said, and picked up the towel again, evidently finished with the conversation. Lily considered asking again for clarification, or reaffirming the fact that he didn’t know who she was, but ultimately decided it a pointless exercise. She didn’t bother closing the door behind her and went to her own room to find some jeans and a t-shirt that actually fit. Perhaps if she were dressed, things might start to seem more like a normal morning.

Or perhaps not. When she returned to the kitchen, Potter had ignored her instructions to not move, and was peering closely at the photos on the fridge. She huffed and was about to grab the now-empty glass from the table when she realised that the boy was speaking.

“Wait, fuck, shit, is that Mars? Then fuck fuck fuck, that’s Dory. Which means…fucking shit fuck fuck shit—” Lily cleared her throat and his back when ramrod straight before he turned slowly on his heel with a bright, strained smile. “Hi Lily Evans, I’m James Potter, nice to meet you. How are you this morning, are you good? Great. Anyway, I’m just going to disappear now so bye!”

Lily stared as Potter grabbed her left hand in an awkward handshake and then sped past her and out of the front door. The door didn’t quite shut behind him, and she could hear faint curses trailing back over his shoulder, briefly interrupted by an over-bright greeting to Marlene, who made her way to the open door of the flat with a concerned look on her face. Lily just shrugged and went to get some cereal.

The next time Lily met James, he was halfway through the kitchen window. She stopped dead on her way to get a glass of milk and stared as his lanky body somehow wormed its way through the window, across the counter and onto the floor—apparently without severely injuring or damaging anything.

“Uh, Potter?”

Potter turned and blinked up at her owlishly—no glasses, this time. His pupils were large and dark in eyes edged with red and Lily rolled her eyes. Of course.

“Hey, Mars. Have you dyed your hair? Looks like Lily’s. She’s cute. You’re not cute, ew. Go do that weird thing with Sirius where you’re just friends and somehow pass out on each other half-naked regardless.” Lily suppressed a desire to comment on the vocabulary, made a note to ask Marlene what she was doing with this Sirius bloke, and instead asked Potter about the window. “Oh, I think I took your keys again. Mine wouldn’t work in the lock.”

So that explained the curious scraping noises that had been coming from the front door ten minutes earlier. She still wasn’t convinced it explained the breaking and entering, but Potter looked like he was about to start drooling on the floor so she took pity and hauled him over to the couch. She fetched her milk and left the room, only to glare at the closed doors belonging to Marlene and Dorcas on her way past to her own bedroom and snatch up the blanket draped over her chair. It was pink with cartoon bunnies but he could deal.

James was already asleep when she half-heartedly threw the blanket over him, and she sighed as he clutched at it immediately. In ordinary circumstances, she would wake Dorcas and demand to know why they had an uninvited guest for the second time, but her roommate had a test the next day for which she had been studying all week, and Lily wasn’t that cruel. Marlene also escaped Lily’s wrath (or, rather, her frustrated confusion) as she was out late and probably wouldn’t be back until the morning, as usual (Lily’s thoughts flickered briefly to Sirius, whoever he was). Which meant Lily would probably be the only one left to deal with Potter in the morning. Which she didn’t really want to do.

She returned to her room and cast about for an idea, eventually landing on the open notebook at her bed. She scribbled on the side until the pen worked fluidly and wrote a short note in hopes that he would read it and leave, preferably without either interacting with her or remembering where he was.

You’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch. You’re going to be confused in the morning but I’ve left water and tablets on the coffee table. Take them and leave, please. Thanks.

‘Walked’ was a bit of a stretch and the note was possibly a little too passive aggressive, but Lily was tired and she did not want to deal with this in the morning. She left the note, the water, and the medicine on the table and went back to bed.

The next morning went almost to plan. The only way in which it didn’t go entirely according to Lily’s wishes was that Potter seemed to either remember where he was or work it out again, and Lily heard muffled curses through the walls as she glared resolutely at the half-written page of work in her notebook. Her name was also mentioned several times and she wondered again how everyone seemed to know this boy except her, and how he knew her already.

She had the chance to ask when Marlene returned at lunch time.

“Hey, Marley, who’s James Potter?”

She waited patiently as Marlene laughed and choked on her sandwich.

“No way, don’t tell me he finally worked up the guts to come and talk to you. What did he say? Did he ask you to have his babies?”

“What? No? Why would he do that? He thought I was you.” Lily considered the conversation again. “He did say I looked like myself, then said I was cute and you weren’t. Two questions: how does he know me and who’s Sirius?”

“Sirius is one of James’ best mates. They’ve known each other since the start of secondary school. You know Remus, don’t you? He’s one of their lot.”

“What do you mean ‘one of their lot’?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Lily, do you even go to Hogwarts? How do you not know the four Marauders? We might not have fraternities over here but those four manage just fine on their own.”

Lily slumped down in her chair, which Marlene interpreted correctly as complete ignorance and filled her in shortly on the four boys who managed the most mischief in the university and still got three of the highest grades in the year. Lily could attest to Remus’ intellect; they studied economics together and she was fond of his conversation when they met occasionally in locations that weren’t the library.

“Anyway, Potter mentioned you and this Sirius guy.”

Marlene laughed outright at that. “That kid is so oblivious. Sirius and Remus have been going out since forever and Sirius has been gay as fuck for even longer.”

Lily scrubbed hard at her face. They were talking in circles and her head was pounding already and she still hadn’t found out what it was about James Potter that felt so strange, but Marlene was finished with the conversation and standing up to collect the dishes to wash. Lily thanked her and disappeared back into her room to finally finish the essay she’d started yesterday before all the madness repeated itself.

It was two weeks before Lily saw Potter again. This time it was before he climbed through the window, in the process of him getting drunk. From as much as Lily could work out—Dorcas and Marlene refused to tell her anything and their third roommate, Mary, was just as clueless as Lily—the two girls who knew all the parties involved who knew all the parties involved had gotten sick of waiting for said parties to ‘sort it out’ and had not given Lily the option of declining the invitation to Remus’ party.

So Lily was spending her Saturday evening hiding in the corner of a crowded living room, hiding from someone she’d barely met and hardly knew.

Potter was canvassing the room, grinning as he chatted with everyone who even paused near him for two seconds. Lily watched him from afar out of the side of her eyes. She was willing to interact with others, but she stayed alert and aware of Potter’s whereabouts so if he ever got quite too close, she’d skitter out of the way. It earned her quite a few strange looks, but Lily was not prepared to deal with his weirdness tonight.

Dorcas and Marlene make some really quite unsubtle attempts to shove Lily in the direction of Potter, but she got good at ducking under arms or spinning back around against pushing hands and finding somewhere else to be. Emmeline Vance, a girl from Lily’s Religious Studies class, was dependable and un-curious and hid Lily with merely a glint in her eye, blissfully un-questioning. Lily told her she’d explain later, anyway.

If she ever found out what was going on.

The inevitable happened at eleven-fifty-three, just as Lily was beginning to hope. She’d even been as optimistic as to venture out of the main party room to the kitchen where Remus had said there were more drinks. Even before she had opened the bottle, however, there was a step at the door.

The thing is: Lily had intended to stay sober. The fact that someone had spiked her lemonade earlier didn’t help, but by the fourth time she barely avoided Potter and the sixth time her drink tasted rather more bitter than usual, she had given up. Which was why she was in the kitchen with a bottle of Kopparberg.

Which was why she was not prepared to deal with Potter.

He was there anyway.

“Oh, Lily.”

“Potter,” Lily said cautiously, aware that her brain was not her friend right now and her tongue was a little bit sloppy in her mouth. “I don’t know who you are.”

Potter might have replied, but Lily was tired and drunk and confused and everything got a little soft around the edges after that.

Lily woke up before she opened her eyes. This was a wise move because there was already a fritzing just behind her right eyeball that promised a lovely hangover headache and the colours through her eyelids indicated light. She groaned and rolled over on her bed…. Not her bed. Her arm was tucked awkwardly underneath her, so she extracted it and gingerly felt the surface beneath her. It felt like leather. She cracked one eye open, and winced at even the soft morning light coming through the window that didn’t belong to her apartment because there was actually a view instead of a brick wall.

She extricated herself from the cocoon of blankets that had somehow formed around her and stood up to assess the situation. It looked vaguely familiar. Some of the alcohol-coloured fog lifted just enough to realise where she was, but it was too late. She’d completed a full rotation on the spot, and come face to face with James Potter.

His black hair was a mess. His glasses were skewed and his top was on inside out, the stitching for whatever badge it was a tangled knot. His skin was flushed slightly (Lily’s was probably the same) and he scratched his head awkwardly.

“Uh, so you’re in the wrong apartment and you fell asleep on my couch and uh…you’re going to be confused in the morning,” he said. Lily blinked slowly a few times.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m James Potter, and I really like you a lot. Sorry.”

Lily considered him for a couple of heartbeats, to see what they thought. They thought he was cute and that Dorcas and Marlene trusted him.

“Well you know the best cure for a hangover is a McDonald’s breakfast,” said Lily Evans with a tentative smile, holding out her hand to the strange, lanky boy with strange, square glasses and a strange, strange, tendency to climb through windows.

James Potter beamed

Word Count: 2845

[terranatior]

Set during the start of the Zombie Apocalypse AU; Devon has his first run in with the infected a little too close to home.

No one really knew what had caused it. There were rumors. Bits and pieces of information out there about people getting sick and becoming aggressive. No one wanted to use the word zombie but it still got thrown around. The undead. The Walkers. Some people blamed the government..accusing them of creating a virus that had gotten out of hand. Others blamed the polluted environment; that nature was taking it’s place back. Plants could easily be accounted for it. Bugs. Air borne pollen. The fact of the matter was no one really knew. No one would probably ever know what had actually caused the infection. The world would die before it ever got close to an answer.

With his father being a cop, it was no surprise the man came into contact with the disease. Devon just hadn’t thought it’d be so soon.

The third phone call was the final straw; Devon gave a grumble and snatched it up in one hand, making the small journey towards his dad’s room as the shrill ringing died down as a finger played against the volume control. His other hand curled into a fist and the punk knocked a little harder than he should have to rouse his father from sleep.

“Dad! Station keeps calling. Are you gonna get up or should I tell them you want a personal day?” The question was pretty pointless. The man wouldn’t take one. Never had. He was practically married to his job; guess he kind of had to be now. People were depending on the force for answers where no one else would offer them. Most of it was bullshit.

“Dad? For fuck’s sake..I’m coming in!” Painted nails wrapped around the doorknob and Devon pushed open the door, squinting into the darkness of the room.

“Dad?”

Slowly, hand dropped from the doorway and he flicked the light switch, illuminating the room in the warmth of the ceiling’s light, finding a particularly human shaped lump on the bed. Now..it wasn’t like his dad to sleep so deeply. In fact, he was a rather light sleeper. Always catching his son trying to sneak out and go smash something outside in the early hours of the morning. A hesitant step was taken forward and Devon gave the upper section of the body a small shake. “Hey. Fucking wake up Dad c’mon. The station keeps calling.”

“......”

“DAD! Are you fucking deaf? I said. The. Station. Keeps. Calling.” Each word was punctuated by a shake and agitation grew when he got no answer. Nothing. Not even a mumble to give him a second.

“.......” Worry began to worm it’s way into his stomach in exchange for that frustration and fingers curled around the fabric of the bedspread; he tugged it away with the flourish of a magician trying to keep dishes on a table for his magic trick.

“...Dad?”

The man was pale, sheen of sweat staining his brow and fatigue obvious on a pained face. Chest heaved in shallow breathes and Devon dropped the blanket to the floor and immediately moved forward.

“Fuck Dad. What’s wrong? What’s--” As he stared, realization hit him. He looked like the people in the hospitals; the people who news crews barely got glimpses of. Cautioning against contact. Warning what to watch for. The infection was merciless. Those who showed such symptoms were past the point of help.

Panic gripped his chest and Devon shot backwards, hands coming upwards to wring at the back of his neck. His dad couldn’t get sick. Sure the guy could be a prick at times but. He was his dad! He was all Devon had!

“Shit..I. You’re. You’re alright right? I’ll just get you some dayquil and..you’ll be fine.” Legs pivoted and the punk rushed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Back met the wall opposite his father’s door and he slid down, blue eyes darting around as he tried to figure out what to do. He could..he could call the other cops but then they’d come in and take him away.

No that wouldn’t be good. Up he went, bounding off to the bathroom. Raiding the medicine cabinet, he’d managed to make a cocktail of various cough syrup and grabbed a cold sprite from the fridge, as if that would fix his father. Because the man totally wasn’t becoming a zombie.

No he wasn’t.

No.

He pushed open the door once more, supplies gathered up in his arms only to be promptly dropped by the sight that greeted him. In the short time he’d been gone, hell had broken loose within the bedroom.

The place was a wreck; dark blood staining the white of sheets and bedside table turned over, the lamp that had been atop shattered. A deep guttural groan came from the other side of the bed and Devon, wide eyed and careless, stepped over the growing puddle of cough syrup to make his way over.

“D-Dad? You. You sound like shit.” It was an attempt at humor, a desperate one, the younger hoping his dad would laugh and tell him off for his language. Instead he received a snarl before the man was hacking something up. Whatever it was was wet, the unfamiliar splosh of liquid hitting wooden floor coming from the short distance. Devon stood at the corner of the bed, peeking down at his father’s hunched figure and he watched, in growing horror, as the man raised his head, black bile dripping from lips.

His eyes looked wrong. Infected. Blues mutated into blended hues of greens and reds. Like a twisted art piece.

Dumbass must have been in contact with someone on the job. Bitten. Wouldn’t have told anyone..that was the type of man he was. Wouldn’t wanna be a bother.

“................”

A hand reached for him and Devon jolted back, realizing standing there meditating over the situation was going to get him into trouble. Zombies. The infection. Whatever it was. His dad wouldn’t want to be alive for that. Maybe he’d gotten himself bitten on purpose. So he could escape what was bound to come after.

Knew that going home was his last night. Maybe that’s why he’d cooked dinner for once.

God dammit.

“You’re going to make me do this you prick? Gonna make your own son put a bullet between your eyes?”

A growl answered him and Devon barked out a dry laugh, stepping back once more, retreating to the door and slamming it shut. His father kept many weapons around the house; and Devon had some experience behind a gun. Old man used to take him down to the range and let him shoot the targets. Coached him on proper handling and grip.

He hoped he remembered enough now.

The code for the gun safe was his birthday. Month. Day. Year. He punched each number in with shaking fingers, trying not to focus on the fact that he was getting a weapon to murder his father. To murder the man who had raised him; who had tucked him into bed and assured him through nightmares as a child before his mother had left them both.

Ammo was grabbed and he loaded the gun just as he’d been taught, clicking the clip into place and cocking the handgun backwards. Safety on. Safety...on.

The door in the hall received a loud bang and he nearly dropped the gun, arms coming to his chest as he held it tight. Fuck. FUCK!

Part of him wondered if he could just leave; just leave the house and let his undead old man have free reign to the place. But who knew what could happen then. What if someone else came to raid the place and got killed? What if his dad got out and murdered someone? That was the last thing the other would want.  

No. Devon had to be a man.

He had to..to do this.

The door didn’t last very long against the unbridled strength of the undead and Devon raised the gun as the figure lurched forward, out of the hall and into the living room. A slight tremor shook his hold and he swore under his breath at it. No. He can’t miss. He’s not sure he’ll have another shot at this. Devon sucked in a deep breathe and forced his stance to tighten up. Forced himself to click the safety off and let his finger hover over the trigger. Another snarl sounded as his father rushed forward and Devon squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled back on the trigger.

The gunshot was LOUD in the house; it left his ears ringing a moment, deafening the sound of the brains splattering across everything. Blue eyes opened to the gore that greeted him. His father’s expression was twisted in an ugly snarl and arms reached out for him. Then his body fell, hard, against the wooden floor and Devon watched as a puddle of blood formed from the gunshot wound.

It took a few minutes for the reality of the situation to fall on him. When it did, he dropped the gun and shaking hands came upwards to tug desperately at his dyed hair. The body on the floor is his father. That’s his fucking dad. His dad. Never mind the fact that he tried to attack him. That he’d have killed him. Thick tears start to fall and Devon looks up at the ceiling, knees buckling beneath him. He lays there a long time. The day shifts into the night in the background before he’s even gotten the strength to push himself back up. There’s a smell in the house. Decay. Death. He knows it vaguely, having smelled it once or twice on his dad’s clothes when the man came home late at night.  

No one had come over at the sound of the weapon being fired. No sirens had sounded and perhaps, that was a sign that the times were already changing. Months later, the neighborhood would ring out with them.

Hands came upwards to wipe pointlessly at his face and Devon finally climbed to his feet. Some morbid curiosity beckoned him over to the body and he stared blankly down at the scene. His father’s corpse seemed out of place; of course it did. People didn’t just have dead people laying across their living rooms.

The blood stains had already started to warp the wood beneath them and Devon wiped at his face once more, a slow head shake leaving him. He couldn’t stay here; staring at his dead dad. No. The movies always urged survivors to leave. To seek out company and stick together.

He could try.

He’d never been much of a people person.

The next day Devon had his plan in mind. Showered and packed, he’d filled a military backpack up with supplies. Some food. Water. Change of clothes and basic toiletries. A handgun and ammo alongside a GPS. Who even fucking knew if it would still work; if anyone was still maintaining the satellites but..he had hope.

Barely.

But it was there.

He’d dragged his father back into his room, trying to make it seem like he was simply sleeping once more, comforter thrown over a still body when Devon had hoisted it back up onto the bed.

With one final glance towards his father, the male shook his head and closed the door gently.

“Later Dad. Sleep tight.” 

[fundeadasylum]

All the Silverware and Dishes are Poisoned

I am literally the worst for writing this.

Teslaverse. Definitely not canon. Alternate ending for the Severance Contingency thread. This is not a happy one shot.

Warning for suggestions of violence, gut spills, guilt trips, vivisections, and a slow spiral into madness.

EDIT: I wrote this five hundred years ago and I still hate myself for it. And for some reason you psychos wanted to see it, so here it is.

———

He tried keeping track of the days and he managed it for almost a month.

Then they did something and he lost heaven only knows how much time and after that he gave up and just let the hours pass.

They were much more careful with him this time. Maybe careful wasn’t the right word. They certainly didn’t treat him nicely but they didn’t treat him as a child either. He was an object to be contained and studied again. The thought chilled him to the core and made him feel sick.

When he ran screaming at the door, pounding and scratching at it, calling for his friends, they shackled him to the wall.

He had no idea where Simon was.

His mind unhelpfully provided him scenarios about just what they were probably doing to Simon.

He threw up against the wall until there was nothing left in his stomach and then dry heaved until he thought he’d choke to death.

****

He fought back when they came for him. He scratched and bit and hit and kicked anything he could reach. Then they tasered him and he woke up sore and teary-eyed strapped to a chair in that horrible, bright orange straight jacket.

They had to wait for him to calm down before they could get a word out of him.

“It was Agent Kass! He said—“

“We know what happened.” They interrupted him a lot, talked down to him. Dib didn’t think it was just because he was a kid, “What we want to know is where the scip you and your…associate stole is.”

They wanted Zim. Of course they did. Dib felt a flare of protective jealousy—Zim was his project—before he settled for glaring at them. Panic clawed at his chest and he couldn’t stop the quivers shaking his frame. There was no way to get out of this, not now. They’d be watching him too closely.

When they put him back in his cell, chained to the wall by his ankles and a length of steel cable, he shouted a swear word at the closed door.

Kass would have been proud.

****

“Pathetic.”

Dib jolted and stared around the room, eyes wide, chest heaving.

He could have sworn—

But no, that was silly.

He put his head back in his knees and closed his eyes again.

He tried to remember how to breathe.

****

The room looked smaller. He knew, rationally, that it was not. But it felt like every time he sucked in a breath, the walls moved in a little closer.

Dib held his breath to see if it would stop the walls from shrinking in on him. It didn’t work mostly because he couldn’t hold his breath from that long. He decided to stop looking at the walls and went back to trying to worm a finger under the cuff on his ankle. There was an itch under there that was driving him crazy.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s only that driving you crazy. Just an itch you can’t scratch.”

Dib looked wildly around the room, panic making him shudder.

He’d heard it that time, he knew he had.

He knew that voice.

“I’m a little hurt, kid. I thought you’d be happier to hear from me. I mean, at least I’m someone to talk to, right?”

“No,” Dib blurted, eyes wide, still looking around for the source of the voice. A source he knew, he just knew, he wouldn’t find, “Because you’re not—you can’t be—you—we l-left you—“

“Left me out in the Void.” Future Dib’s voice finished for him. It was a sneer, a curl of disgust and hatred that made Dib flinch,

“I really should find a way to thank you for that.”

“N-no, no! You’re not really here! This is—this is some kind of trick!” Dib shouted at the ceiling, at the locked cell door, standing on a shaky soap box to try and convince himself, “Y-you guys think I’m gonna f-fall for your—your mind games!? Or whe-whatever! Not happening! Let me out of here! Let me go! LET ME OUT!”

“That’s funny,” Other Dib’s voice chuckled coldly from nowhere and everywhere at once,

“I said the same thing.”

****

“Where’s Simon?”

“—about where you’ve been these last few—“

“Where. Is. Simon.”

“—really don’t think you’re in any kind of position to be—“

“Where’s Simon!?”

“—if you don’t calm down, we’ll—“

“WHERE’S SIMON!? WHAT’VE YOU DONE WITH HIM!?”

“—containment breach! Just—“

“IF YOU’VE HURT HIM I’LL KEH—I’LL KILL YOU! WHERE IS HE!? WHERE’S SIMON!?”

“—someone get this kid under control—“

“—holy shit! He’s—“

“WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS HE WHERE IS HE WHERE IS HE WHEREISHEWHEREIS—“

****

The new cell was smaller but the ceiling was higher. The walls were padded and there were cameras high up in every corner of the room. Dib tried to reach them but he kept falling and eventually decided it wasn’t worth the bruised tailbone.

He was no longer allowed out of the cell without a straight jacket.

It had been oddly satisfying to bite that agent hard enough to break skin.

“This is just rich.”

Dib flinched and backed up against the wall, gaze darting around the room. The tracking bracelet on his ankle rubbed his already raw skin. That had been added after the fifth escape attempt. Well, they called it an escape attempt, Dib called it trying to find Simon and get the fuck out of this place.

“Look at you, you’re a mess. See what happens when you don’t follow your destiny, kid? You should have listened to me. You should have become me.”

And there he was, lounging against the locked cell door as if this were a palace. That winning smile was a twisted sneer of victory, his arms crossed across his chest, head cocked at an angle that spoke of observation and scorn. The harsh lights of the room caught the blue of his goggles and splintered it.

Dib make a dry squawking sound and flatted himself against the wall. He wished he could sink through it.

The Other Dib, the one from that hoorible future, the one they’d left trapped in the Void, pushed himself off the door with his shoulder and walked slowly across the room. He owned the space he moved across, exuding an air of confidence that was nearly tangible. Dib wanted to be sick but all he could do was slide to the floor to try and keep as far away from his alternate future self as possible.

“Yh-you’re not real.” He said, trying to sound firm, trying to believe himself. Other Dib’s sneer widened, “You’re not real! They’re s-still trying to get information out of me! This is a trick! Where’s Simon you slimy bastards!”

Other Dib let out a low whistle, stopping a few feet from Dib, “Wow, what a potty mouth you’ve become. Picked that up from Agent Kass, did you? Hey, what happened to him anyway? He was tied up with you in that van, right? Do you think he’s dead? I bet he’s dead.”

Dib pressed his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He would not give in to their taunting. He was stronger than this! He would get out of here! He had to! He had to find Simon! He’d find Simon and they’d get out and they’d go back to 1 Tesla Drive and back to Dee and back to Mab and back to home cooked meals and Zim screaming at him. Back to adventures through fizzling portals and shady pasts, back to too many cans of Black Plasma and a fridge that stole eggs, back to ghost hunting shows hosted by idiots with fake equipment, inventions that half worked, the smell of sulphur and burnt wood.

Back home.

“I wanna go home…” Dib whimpered into his knees as he curled up, trying to shield himself from the Other Dib’s onslaught of verbal abuse, “I want to go home…”

****

Light in his eyes.

He squinted and half turned his head away.

Hands on him.

“Suh…”

“SCP-7772 is awake.”

“Sih…”

Something cold in his mouth. He spat it out instinctively. It was forcefully jammed back in and he realized dazedly it was a thermometer.

Why was it so hard to think straight?

“Temperature: normal. Heart rate: slower than normal but that might be the sedatives.”

“Si…”

Metal? Metal. Metal! There was metal!

He jerked. It held fast. A strangled sob shook his voice as he tried to speak,

“Si…mon…”

“Fuckin’ nutcase. Keeps crying.”

“It is a kid.”

“From another dimension, yeah.”

“Still human.”

“Apparently.”

“Simon…!” His voice was hoarse, shaking. Was he crying? What was happening? He felt sick, “Simon! Where’s S-Simon!?”

“Not this again…”

“Shit, kid’s like a broken record. First that Keter and then that humanoid with the weird heart.”

“Think it actually cares?”

“Simon! Simon! Where are you!? Sh-S—h-help! Somewh-one! Simon!”

“Someone shut it up before it gets hysterical.”

Ice. Thin. In his arm. Metal. Heard to breathe. Hard to think straight.

“Pathetic, really. Could have been something. Now look at you.”

“We should just put it out of it’s misery…”

“You almost sound like you give a shit.”

“Hey, bro, why’re you given up so easily?”

…Simon?

****

He tried keeping track of the days.

He tried making plans to escape.

Nothing stuck.

They started leaving the straight jacket on.

It was driving him crazy.

“Oh, is that really the only thing that’s driving you crazy?”

“Why didn’t you ever come find me?”

Other Dib was a regular. Dib had given up trying to get them to stop tormenting him with whatever they were putting in his cell to make him see these things.

Sometimes there was someone else.

Dib refused to look at them.

They had a gaping chest cavity and jagged cuts and there was something important missing from their dripping mass of internal organs.

He’d looked once.

They’d had to sedate him for a while.

“Hey Dib, when you get out do you think we could make a detour to look for my heart? I think they’re keeping it in a jar somewhere.”

He dry heaved on a painfully empty stomach and tried to remember how to breathe.

****

“I wonder if Dee’s okay…”

“She’s probably dead.”

“….nuh-uh. Mab woulda taken care of her when I never came back. Zim’s probably okay too.”

“Just keep telling yourself that.”

****

“I’m sorry, Simon…”

“That sure amounts to a lot, doesn’t it.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

****

“SCP-7772 is mentally degrading at an alarming rate.”

“You want to do something about that?”

Dib kicked his foot off the edge of the exam table so his tracking bracelet banged against the metal edge, glaring at the two men in the room with him. They were all talking about him like he wasn’t there, ignoring him, treating him like something inhuman and not worthy of their attention.

He could see Other Dib in the corner, leaning against the wall and sneering at the room as a whole.

“We’re supposed to keep going until we find out where SCP-7771A and B are.”

“Think it even knows what we’re talking about anymore…?”

“I’m right here, you know.” Dib spat, banging the tracking bracelet on the edge of the table again. It sent a jarring sensation through his leg to his bone, “You could just talk to me.”

They shared a significant look that made Dib’s mouth taste sour. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of dripping red and a hole where a heart was supposed to be. He swallowed the churning in his stomach.

“All right, 7772. Where did you hide the Keter?”

Dib rolled his eyes, “Not tellin’. Besides, he’s probably not even there anymore so even if I did tell you, it’d be pointless.” He sagged back against the exam table, squirming in the straight jacket, “Why don’t you just ask Agent Kass, I bet he’d be more than happy to spill his guts.”

One of them laughed,

“He already did. They’re all over one of the basement containment cells. Amazing how much honey was inside him…”

Dib nearly fell off the exam table as he tried not to be sick. The men started laughing. Other Dib was laughing too.

It sounded like Simon might have been crying.

****

“I’m never getting out of here, am I?”

“Probably not.”

“Maybe if you tried a little harder, you could have saved us both, bro.”

“I…I’m going…to die here…”

“Now wouldn’t that be an ironic ending.”

****

He thought time was going in reverse.

Not going backwards but just. Not flowing the right way.

Because while the hours upon hours of interrogation and threats and physical pain seemed to drag, the time between them was endless. Nothing but limitless spans of time where nothing was happening. There was no one in the room except for him.

Well, him and those phantoms.

Always, always, always the mocking phantoms.

At least they were familiar.

****

The door to his cell was nearly ripped off it’s hinges by the force that threw it open. Dib watched it through a haze of sedatives as it bounced off the wall and nearly slammed shut again. He figured this was probably a dream of some kind, brought on by drugs and exhaustion.

Mab strode through the door, all fury and elegance, grace and danger, her hair wild about her in a cloud.

Oh yeah, definitely a dream. No way Mab would come to a Foundation site for him.

“Oh Dib…” Her had was warm on his cheek and he chuckled weakly. What a realistic dream this was, “I’m so sorry it took this long to get to you. But with only ZiM and I…”

“Wait until she finds out what you let happen to Simon.” Other Dib said in his ear, “Not that Simon didn’t deserve it, but I mean…”

“Hey! I did so not deserve this!” Simon had his hands on his hips behind Mab, scowling. Blood oozed with syrupy slowness over his fingers, “Sure, it’s Dib’s fault but I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Dib closed his eyes and ducked his head with a whimper.

“Dib? Look at me, please. We need to get out of here. It’s dangerous to stay.”

“Sah—Simon.” Dib wheezed into his chest.

A hesitation.

“I know, darling.” Mab swept him up into her arms and headed for the door, “I know. It will be all right. No one is angry with you. We will all be all right.”

****

There were scars.

Marks on wrists and ankles from struggling. Jagged lines from needles ripped harshly away. Raw red cuts never treated properly because someone had gotten mouthy. A sickening set of stitched together lines that no one talked about.

Those were nothing compared to what happened inside their heads.

****

He tried keeping track of the days.

It was easier when he could see the sun moving across the sky.

Mab helped. She helped them both. 

Simon didn’t move like he used to.

ZiM yelled a lot. That helped too, in a weird way. Dib thought ZiM was angry. He never asked.

Time felt like it was moving normally again.

None of them returned to 1 Tesla Drive.

They moved on. And closed the portal behind them.

[toeychan]

Me and Eden Love Forever Part III

**No Description This is the Peek part of the Eden and Ellen’s Story**

**Rings**

Eden wakes by the Ringing

**Rings**

“YES” Eden shouted to someone who ringing to the door

...Eden walks to the door

while Ellen is still sleeping...

Eden thinks to himself that Ellen maybe didn’t sleep last night

Eden opens the door...

Someone who is waiting for him is two police officer

“We are looking for this girl on the picture

have you known her?” one of the police officers said

“I am here” Ellen is walking from the Eden’s back

“We will arrest you for the Violent Crime”

the Police didn’t wait to explain anything before he says it

So Ellen as well she is handling both of her hands

to the officer...

“Wait... Could anyone explain to me what is going on?”

Eden still confusing

“It is really simple Eden

I escaped after committing the crime

They are here to arresting me”

Ellen said a simple explain

“It still doesn’t explain to me what have you done Ellen?”

Eden repeated his question...

Ellen still doesn’t answer...

“It’s better to tell him what you have done miss Ellen Bake”

the officer suggested Ellen confess her crime

“... I have killed my family both mother and father...

while they are sleeping” Ellen confessed her sin

with trying not to contact Eden’s eyes

“Ellen, Why you don’t explain to me earlier?”

Eden asked

“Because I think that you will scare me and stop talking with me before

we end the second day...” Ellen looks down and explained her reason

... Eden can’t really respond if he won’t scare her

“I will go with you, Ellen”

Eden can’t think of anything else

“No, Eden I can’t make you get involved to my Crime

Please, stay at your home and have a normal life”

Ellen said with sadness and sorrow in her heart

that ready to shad with tears

“No, Ellen I will-”

“Please...“ before Eden finishes his conversation

Ellen stop to asks for the favour

“I will wait for you, Ellen,

Please remember no matter where you are

I will be waiting for you” Eden said with his honesty feeling

“I feel glad and thankful but Eden

Please, have a normal life.

I don’t want my criminal crime to ruin your life and future

I probably can’t live like normal after this anyway...

what I have done is unacceptable for everyone

Even you are willing to accept me

Even I could live with you everyone

around us, they won’t accept me...”

Ellen explained about the unreturnable situation

At that moment Eden hugs Ellen...

“I won’t...

You are the only one that my heart will belong...”

Eden said with a bitter feeling of straying

Ellen is starting to cry...

and says

“How stubborn you are”

“We need to take her now please stay back”

the police officer said

then they lead Ellen to the station...

Ellen wipe her tears and says

“By the way, Eden all of your fridge supply

was used for cooking the meal last night”

... at the last moment, she still gives

an unexpectable Impression

leaves Eden with a stupid face on the front door...

Eden enters the living room where he remembers that

He used to watch movies with Ellen...

He opens The Moon Prison and watches it again more 2 times...

While thinking about the possibility what if He lives with Ellen together...

after that, he turns on the NEWS channel hopes

He will hear something about Ellen...

But surprising there is a murdered NEWS but

none of it mentions about Ellen...

So He enters the bedroom and uses his computer

to search for Ellen on the Internet...

at this moment he can’t think about anything else but Ellen...

He searches everywhere but the result is the same as

He watched the NEWS channel...

After that day after days...

He lives in normal life... still he can’t stop miss the Ellen

He spends a bit of time on each day for searching

what if He could know more about Ellen...

But it’s nothing...

Finally, it already finished the last day of the semester break...

Eden walks to the school... when he is at the place

that first time he met Ellen... He wishes Ellen will be

in that card box at the same place...

**At a homeroom hour**

Teacher: “Does everyone have a nice semester break?”

after Teacher said it, everyone, answer the teacher’s question

someone has a vacation inside the country or abroad someone

do nothing at their home... but this question brings

Eden to thinks about Ellen...

“My name is Emma Lawrence...”

Suddenly nostalgic voice breaks out through

Eden’s mind...

He got his mind back and look at the front of the classroom...

It’s Ellen with his school uniform

“from now I will be your classmate for everyone

and for Eden... I will be his Adopted sister~~~

who wasn’t relate to his blood relationship~~~~!

Which it could lead to any possibility

include fucking Sex~~”

Ellen as now Emma she said with Moe Moe Kyun

speech

Everyone in the classroom “WHATTTTTTT”

that day Everyone in the classroom rapidly

fire question on Emma about relationship and

Where She came from... Of course, She came from the Moon...

Finally, Emma and Eden comeback to the home...

“Ellen, what happened I thought you were arrested”

Eden didn’t wait to ask a question

“Wait for me a minute, I want to use the bathroom”

Emma said

**5 minutes later**

Emma comes out of the room with a Sexy dress

it even shows her body more than that first Sexy dress

It even shows some part of her women’s restricted zone

“How is it Eden” then she poses the same pose

that first pose...

“It’s not what I asked, Ellen

how you do come back?” Eden repeated his question...

while Emma changing her poses to various poses

without giving the same one

“Well, Because I am underage and DV issues

the court judge me to live in a normal life

and cover my past identity

actually, I jailed but just for 7 days

and I get treated really nice

so I can practice these poses

by the way, from now please call me Emma”

Ellen as Emma said while still continuing her various sexy poses

“But why didn’t you contact me early?

I don’t even hear anything from my parents”

Eden asked more question

Emma stops posing probably because she runs out of poses

“I just want to surprise you

and What things you like to spend times with me today?

Watching T.V. or Dinner...or Bathroom Hehe”

Emma smugging to Eden when she said it...!

“God damn you Emma, None of it

You are really making my mood spoiled today

I am heading to sleep

and You should change your cloth

I don’t want to sleep with that cloth”

Eden said with spoiled mood and go to the bedroom

“What!!!? I tried my best!!!”

Ellen feels it’s unfair for a little bit...

she changed her cloth to as

worm pant and a simple T-Shirt with disappointment...

then she opens the bedroom door...

She shocked...

Eden is waiting with condom and tissue paper on the bed...

“Wa...What... is this suppose to mean, Eden?”

She is starting to Tremble because she didn’t expect

and actually ready for it...

Suddenly after Eden saw Emma frighten for a bit

he smiles and walks to Emma carries her to the bed

and says

“I won’t hold it to myself anymore my honey

I prepare all of it, let’s have sex”

He said while on the top of Emma’s body

“D...Don’t you remember that we are just a teenager and still

weren’t married yet?“ Emma said to him...

“Suddenly the author set us to be middle age adult

and married already”

Eden told something nonsense that should make sense...

Emma’s face turns to be someone’s face who accepted their fate

and says

“I will make sure to moan as sexy as possible”