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mrs-harrington-reid · 8 months ago

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Begin Again

Snow on the beach

" I can’t speak, afraid to jinx it. I can’t even dare to wish it but your eyes are flying saucers from another planet. Now I’m all for you like Janet can this be a real thing, can it?” - Taylor Swift

Pairing: Post Prison Spencer x Single Mom Reader

Summary: Spencer's therapist had encouraged him to get back into the dating scene to improve his mental wellness but after multiple failed blind dates Spencer feels that it is doing the exact opposite. That is until JJ and Garcia set him up with you.

Warnings: talking about traumatic dates, fluffity fluffy fluff, post prison spencer just being a little lover boy cutie pahtootie, lmk if I missed anything else!

Begin Again (Masterlist)

It wasn't that the girls Spencer went on blind dates with were horrible, they just weren't exactly the best. His first date was with a nice women that was in the same book club as Garcia. The date had gone wonderful until she asked if he had a chip in his neck so that the government could track him, and he would've laughed if she wasn't being completely serious. The next one was a girl who used to nanny Henry, that was all fun and games until her ex boyfriend showed up at the restaurant and she left Spencer with nothing but the bill.

Then there was the one who had too much wine and threw up all over him, the one who believed that the earth was flat and that the holocaust never happened, the one who just wanted a signed book from Rossi, and so on. He had been on at least ten failed dates within the spand of three months and to say he was over it would be an understatement.

"Oh come on Spence just give this one a try." JJ pleaded as they walked into the elevator with Garcia.

"I just don't see how this girl could possibly be any better than the last ten that you and Garcia set me up with."

"But she is!" Garcia exclaimed. "You see me and the all so lovely JJ realized the problem was that we hadn't picked a girl for you together as a team so that's exactly what we did and she will blow your little genius mind."

"fine." He huffed in defeat "but if this date ends horribly you have to promise to never set me up again."

Both the girls agreed to the deal so Garcia sent him your number as fast as she possibly could've.

All he could do was pray that they were right and that this date would turn out to be better than the last ones.

You adjusted your knitted sweater while you intensely examined yourself in the mirror. You wondered if you had put on too much makeup or if your tan knitted sweater with jeans and converse was too lazy for a first date.

"Can you stop fixing something every five seconds your seriously stressing me out." Your best friend Liv pleaded behind you while her head hung off the edge of your bed.

"I'm scared liv this is the first date I've been on in a long time and I don't want it to turn into a dumpster fire of a night." You sighed and brushed out the curls in your hair one more time.

"I think its going to be just fine from what you told me this guy is just as awkward as you are so maybe it's like a match made in dork heaven." She laughed.

"He seems super sweet I'm just scared he's going to run for the hills as soon as I tell him about Autumn."

“If he has a problem with the fact that you have a daughter he clearly isn't mature enough to handle a real relationship and needs to start acting his age."

Most men you tried to date either immediately ran or told you that they "weren't looking for anything serious right now" after you told them a out Autumn. You just prayed that Spencer would be the exception considering he was six years older than you and had experienced a little more life than you had.

The ping of a text message distracted you from your previous thoughts. "Okay liv, Spencer is going to be here in five minutes to pick me up. Theo is dropping Autumn off at seven and remember please she needs to be in bed by eight or else she gets grumpy in the morning and I'll be home at least by eight thirty." You rambled.

"don't you worry about Autumn she's going to have a great time with the world's greatest god mother. Also I already took the day off so go clean out your cobwebs tonight, I got this." You both let out a laugh at her last comment.

"I just feel so guilty leaving Autumn the day she comes home from her dad's. I promise I will be home by at least nine so maybe I can call in too and we can go get brunch in the morning?" You suggested fixing your earrings; finally feeling less anxious about how this would all play out.

Before liv could answer you the doorbell rang signaling you that either Spencer was waiting or Theo had been there early to drop Autumn off. Your heart rate picked up as you grabbed your purse and walked to the front door and slowly turned the knob.

"Hi you must be Y/N" Spencer smiled when you opened the door. You hadn't expected him to walk all the way up to your door and knock. Most of the guys you'd gone out with were the drive by and honk type, especially Autumns father Theo when you were dating.

"Yes I am and you must be the famous Dr. Spencer Reid I've heard so much about." You beamed as you walked out and shut your door behind you as soon as you heard liv open her mouth.

"Only good things I hope?"

"I think we both know JJ and Penelope would never dare to say anything bad about you." You said as you both approached his car, blushing when he opened the car door for you.

You were sort of confused at the fact that he insisted on picking you up. You could’ve sworn that you remembered JJ saying something about how he hated driving.

The drive was mostly silent and sort of awkward on your way to the unknown restaurant that Penelope had insisted he take you to after you told her that you enjoyed pasta, she had made your guys' reservation and everything. And when you arrived he opened your door for you once again. Even after being told almost every detail about the man standing before you still felt extremely nervous to make conversation.

"So JJ tells me that your a teacher." He attempts to make small talk.

"I am. I teach kindergarten, honestly I wanted to be an English Lit professor but you kinda of have to wait for one of those guys to die before the position is opened." You winced at your own shitty joke. You and Liv had always joked about how college professors looked like they were decomposing but Spencer didn't know that. And now that you’re thinking about it you remember Penelope telling you that Spencer was a professor when he wasn't with the BAU.

He let out at small laugh and you were absolutely flabbergasted. He got your joke? And he laughed? You were starting to wonder if this was just a laugh at all her jokes type of flirt tactic. But then again JJ had told you that he was sort of oblivious and bad at flirting.

"That's so true. You know the average age of college professors in the United States is 42 but there are significantly more faculty that reported their age at 55 and above so technically there's a lot more old professors in the USA than young professors." He rambled.

"I didn't know that." You smiled. He did understand your joke.

When you arrived at the front door of the restaurant you were met with a sign that said "CLOSED" in bold letters. You swear you could've cried you were only twenty minutes into the date and it had been so wonderful until this.

"oh...well if you wanted we could find a food truck and eat in my car? But only if you want to." He suggested, anxiously waiting for your response. You noticed him fidgeting with his fingers and you immediately interpreted that he was outside his comfort zone asking you to stay but he was still trying nonetheless.

"This isn't your master plan to drive to some viewpoint and get me in your back seat is it?" you smiled trying to ease his anxiety.

"I promise" he held his hands up.

You both walked back to his car unable to stop smiling. He was glad that you already weren't like the other girls he had gone on dates with. And you were happy that he wasn't as douche like the other guys you had been on dates with but you also still needed to tell him about autumn before you fully came to any conclusion about his character.

"Spencer before we continue this date I have something I need to tell you." You stopped walking and looked at him and he had fully set into a panic. This is it. This is when you would turn out to be just as insane as the other ones. He braced himself for your next words. "I have a one year daughter. I needed to tell you before I got too attached and you decided to run. I told JJ and Penelope not to tell you so that I could see how you reacted."

He exhaled a breath he didn't even know he was holding in. "That's a relief."

You quirked your brow at him. "So you don't care that I have a daughter at home?"

"Not at all" he reassured you "I actually quite like kids. I've never had any of my own but I have my two godsons and they're wonderful." You smiled at him. How could he have been so damn perfect.

You continued walking and he opened the door for you once again when you reached his car. And once you were both in the small talk started up again. "So I assume you know how I know JJ and Garcia but how did you meet them." He was still astounded at the fact that they both knew someone this perfect and didn't set you up with him sooner.

"I used to be Henry's teacher and then when my I had my daughter me and JJ were in a mom group together and we became friends. And then I met Penelope when JJ invited me out one night and I've been friends with the both of them ever since." You responded. "And I'm guessing your Henry's godfather that he dressed up as for Halloween when I had him as a student?"

"How did you know? That was such a long time ago I'm surprised you even remember that." He smiled at the fond memory.

"Because it was probably the cutest little costume I had ever seen and extremely creative might I add. My daughter was a pumpkin for her first Halloween and Henry beat her in cuteness by a long shot." You gushed. "But don't ever tell her I said that."

"Can you tell me about her? Your daughter." Spencer asked. You felt like you needed to pinch your arm to see if this was real.

"Her name is Autumn. I named her that because she was born in October and my favorite poem is Autumn by Alice Clary. She has so much personality for a one year old and she’s just so beautiful and amazing. I never saw myself being a mom but now that I am I couldn’t imagine anything else." He admired the way your eyes sparkled and your voiced softened when you talked about her. It was so incredible how in love you were with being a mother. He parked the car and you both walked out and towards the first food truck that you had passed neither of you cared what kind of food it was considering you were absolutely starving.

Within the next couple of hours you had both ordered your food and we're currently eating it as you spoke on the hood of Spencer's car. He has his head thrown back laughing as you told a story about one of your lousy dates that you had been on in the past.

"So I really thought I got stood up and I was ready to leave until this guy shows up and explained to me that he had to have his mom drop him off because he missed the bus. And then he continues to tell me all about how he still lived in her basement and was unemployed." You laughed.

"What did you tell him."

"I pretended that Autumns dad called me and told me that she was sick and I had to leave immediately." You responded "and then he asked me if I could take him back to his mom's house on my way. I ended up taking him home and paying for my own dinner."

"I can do you one better." Spencer laughed "One time JJ set me up with this woman from your mom group named Amy and she seemed okay until she started drinking and in the middle of me telling her what I do for a living she threw up all over me in the middle of the restaurant. I had to carry her out because she could barely walk and I swear my car smelled like puke for a week."

"why would JJ even set you up with her" you wheezed "we literally call her alcoholic Amy. She always has a flask in her son’s diaper bag it’s absurd.” You giggled.

Spencer sat there admiring your beauty as you laughed. Something about you made him feel so comfortable. In the short time you'd known each other you made him feel so comfortable that he didn't need to hide behind all his knowledge. Comfortable enough that he could just be a carefree and casual version of himself that he barely even knew existed. He felt bold and confident in your presence and it made him so truly happy.

Your phone starting to ring. You picked it up extremely fast, scared that it was Liv wanting to face time to tell you that something was wrong with Autumn. But Penelope's name and face was the only thing that covered your screen.

"Oh look who it is." You giggled and flashed your phone at Spencer before you answered. "Hey pen, what's up?"

"So I was calling to ask how the date went but then I realized that I had gotten the confirmation for your guys' reservation at six this morning and I thought it was weird but sei la vie you know?" You and Spencer smiled at her rambling "But then I looked at the website and these people are open at six in the freaking morning! So turns out I made your reservation for seven thirty am not seven thirty pm cause they're closed at five which is completely bonkers if you ask me." She took a second to finally breathe "so I am so sorry if your date got ruined. Ugh and you were the first good one we set him up with too but I'll fix it no worries my love."

"Pen I'm gonna say your hours too late on this call but your all good we found something else to do so no worries." You laughed and turned your screen so that Penelope could see Spencer sitting next to you.

"Oh look at that you guys are still out. I would like to end this call with a quick" she cleared her throat preparing for her next words "I win Spencer, I told you she was a good one! ha!" After those last words she hung up.

"oh my goodness I didn't even realize what time it was" you gasped when you looked at the time on your phone and saw that It was almost midnight. "I'm so sorry I kept you out this late."

"No really your okay. I'd be lying if I didn't already see the time a while ago, I just didn't want this to end so fast." He admitted and it made you heart absolutely melt.

"If I didn't have autumn waiting at home for me I would totally stay for longer but I really should get going." You sighed.

He nodded and took your guys' garbage to throw away before he opened the passenger door for you to hop in. After he got back into the car and put his seat belt on he felt the need to ask you about your previous marriage. Something intrigued him about the fact that you had gotten divorced for what he considered to be at a young age.

“So I know this is sort of first date taboo but um, why did you get divorced? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to I was just kind of curious because I just feel like twenty eight is a young age to get divorced.”

“Oh no I really don’t mind talking about it.” You reassured him. “Me and Theo met in high school. Honestly it was one of those cliche high school sweethearts type of things. I was a cheerleader; he was the captain of the basketball team and our parents were friends so we just thought why not? It seemed right at the time but after I got pregnant with autumn everything changed so I filled for divorce before she was born.” “you know it’s actually proven that children who never experience their parents unhappy relationships actually live a much happier and healthier life than those who experience their parents divorce.” He tried to make you feel better about your failed marriage in his own special way.

“I hope that’s the case with Autumn” you sighed.

“I’m sure it will be. I know we haven’t known each other for very long but you seem like a really good mom.” He smiled as you pulled into your driveway. Neither of you were ready for the night to end but you knew it had to eventually.

“I’ll walk you to your door” he cleared his throat before exiting his car. He opened the door and you both silently walked to the front door but as you went to turn the knob Spencer stopped you. “I’m going to ask you a question and you can feel free to tell me no but it’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t ask. Can I kiss you?”

“yeah” you let out softly. He placed his hand on your cheek and slowly leaned down until your lips met. You moved your arms to rest on his shoulders while he moved his other hand to your waist. Something as simple as a kiss had never felt so perfect to you.

That was until Liv opened the door and cleared her throat in an incredibly overdramatic manner. “Hi I’m Olivia, Y/N’s roommate.” You and Spencer pulled away from each other, cheeks flushed and chests heaving.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Spencer” Olivia waited for a handshake that was never going to happen.

“He has a thing with germs”, “I have a thing with germs” you both stated at the exact same time.

“Anyway I should get inside now I had a fun night with you Spencer, feel free to text me anytime.” You smiled at each other with a silent understanding before he walked away.

you walked past liv to get inside. “So coming home after curfew young lady. Tsk. tsk. Did you get lucky?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“no he was a perfect gentleman and we just got lost in conversation.” You beamed.

“I imagine it was hard to have a conversation with his tongue down your throat!”

“that was the only time we kissed tonight! I really like him liv something about this guy just feels so different. It feels like I was meant to meet him you know.” Liv let out a small laugh but you were completely serious. You knew Spencer Reid was about to change your life you just didn’t know how yet.

“oh my goodness and what was that germ thing about. I mean the man wouldn’t shake my hand but he would swap saliva with you?”

“you know it’s actually more cleanly to kiss than shake hands.”

liv just shook her head “you two really were made for each other. I’m going to bed now but I will be ready for brunch in the morning.” She said before she walked to her room. You threw yourself on your couch and you couldn’t help but kick your feet at just how happy you were and little did you know Spencer was just as giddy as he walked into his apartment.

A/N: sorry this took my so long to get this out I’m revamping my fics rn so hopefully I’ll be posting more soon! I hope you enjoyed this and heads up I have not proofread so I’m sorry for any mistakes you come across. I appreciate feedback and I hope y’all have a wonderful day and lmk if you would like to be added in the taglist💕

also if any of y’all are into the Harry Potter universe please feel free to check out my other fic im working on called: The Alchemy

Taglist: @witchsbitchestime @sonicthehedgedoggo @feyresqueen @donttrustlove @alcoholandcakes @person-005 @ilwsma @mega-kittyglitter-1 @creative-heart @chicken-fifi

#Criminal minds #spencer reid #emily prentiss #spencer reid smut #Spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #David rossi #my writing #dr spencer reid #Fan fiction #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert

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navaldiver · 1 year ago

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The Life of a Successful Fan

TW: Sexual Slavery, Piss drinking, Slight Scat, Slight Feet worship, Femdom.

A/N: OMG life took a real toll on me and my mental health was in the dumpster for quite a while. Finally got back to writing and got this out for you guys. I'm so sorry that I've been MIA as of late, but will try to post more.

Barely edited, and proceed with caution!! Read the tags before reading!!

It's six a.m. and the alarm on your phone rang. You stirred from the cot on your floor, rubbing your eyes and silently stretching until you hit a state of nirvana from that one particular pulled muscle. You were never a morning person, but for Chaewon, well you will be whatever she asks from you. And one of Chaewon's first requests after you decided to devote your life to her was to be her human alarm clock. Finally awake enough, you climbed out of the mattress and headed toward your master's room.

Opening the ornate wooden door, you were met with a sight that you could never get tired of despite seeing it every day. Kim Chaewon in all her naked glory, lay sprawled on the bed, the contour of her ass could be visibly seen even under the thick sheets. You gulped, knowing full well your Master's needs come first before your own. You are her slave after all. With another firm gulp, you suppressed your urges and crawled your way underneath the sheets to wake up your Master the only way you were supposed to.

"Good morning Master." You whispered, as you stroke the soft yet firm skin of her ass with your fingers, gently pulling the cheeks apart as you snuggle up against the tender skin right by the rectum, already fluttering in excitement as to what comes next. It is tempting to swipe your tongue against it, but you know better than to do something you are not supposed to. And besides, there'll be ample time for that later. You shift your face that much closer, pressing your own cheeks against her cheeks like you're in love with her ass. Which you probably are to be honest.

And just the way you knew she would, Chaewon shifted a little, pressing her ass into your face slightly as she reached over to pet your hair. You reciprocated as you shifted that infinitesimal distance closer to her ass in your own display of affection. With a murmur and a tug to your hair, she lets you know that it is time to move on to the next part of your morning routine. You retreat back under the covers, allowing her room to flip onto her back and spread her legs, propping her feet on either side of the bed and giving you a clear view of her pussy in front of you. You used to muse at the fact that the Kim Chaewon's pussy was so accessible to you, yet so desired and mysterious to those so desperate for her. But now, her glorious folds stared back at you, giving you a verbal command that it demands tribute. You heed its call as you wriggled on your belly, hands placed on the outside of her thighs and you pressed your mouth to her pussy, meticulously forming a seal with your lips as you flatten your tongue. You waited patiently for your first drink of the day, as Chaewon played with your hair, twirling and plucking at it as she waited for her own body to respond to her mental order.

With a strong hand, Chaewon grabs a fistful of your hair and lets out a sigh of relief and starts pissing, straight into your mouth. The flow is intense but the taste is familiar and nostalgic as you gulp it down without missing a beat. It did take you a while to reach this level of sucking down Chaewon's piss. Initially, you struggled to even cope with the taste of her piss but after a few stern beatings, you gargled down her piss like a pro.

As the stream finally stopped, you detached your mouth and licked your lips, before struggling out from under the covers and sinking onto the floor, greeting your master on your knees.

"Good morning Master."

"Good morning slave." Chaewon sat upright on the bed as you propped up a pillow for her. As a small reward, she leaned over and gave you some of her morning spit. You gratefully opened your mouth and accepted the gift, which earned a chuckle from your master. Chaewon giggled at the thought that now your belly is mixed with her urine and now her spit. She yawned and stretched, before she finally got off the bed and headed off to the bathroom. You followed behind her, on your hands and knees.

Chaewon picked up the toothbrush you had already prepared for her, while you peppered kisses all over her feet. She loves it, the feeling of being adored and pampered to the most extreme, and you love showering your master with all the devotion and attention you can spare. From the corner of your eye, you could see Chaewon was done brushing her teeth. You quickly crawled over to the next station of the morning, the toilet bowl. You see, when you signed that contract to be Chaewon's personal 'assistant', it included that you take care of anything that would bother her. And this includes her personal business.

"You better clean me up good, I have a long schedule ahead of me today and I don't want my ass to bother me." Chaewon growled as she sat on the toilet backwards, her ass facing you as you kneel in front of it. You nuzzle into her ass cheek and press a kiss to it, your own way of acknowledging what was to come.

A cute grunt and a whoosh of gas later, you see her asshole start to dilate and you start kneading the flesh around her ass, acting as some encouragement as she strains against the cistern. Soon, you could see a greasy brown log appearing from her asshole. You shifted your hands from her ass to her inner thighs, palming and massaging the flesh as you patiently waited for Chaewon.

"Mmmm, such a good slave for me." Chaewon mutters as your massage was hitting the right spots, as the log stuck in her ass finally breaks off and falls into the toilet. Chaewon makes more soft, guttural noises as she pushes more logs out, as you stay kneeling in front of her ass, massaging her until she's done. She leans forward a little more, her asshole gaping and inviting you toward the next step of your morning routine. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, pressing your tongue and dragging it all over her brown-smudged asshole. The taste is as bad as one could imagine, but you obviously weren't doing it for the taste. You were doing it because of Chaewon, because this is what she needs and what she demands. So, you carefully and diligently lap her clean, listening to her praises and swelling with pride. Your favourite compliment was that you were the 'best toilet paper' she's ever used. You chuckled a little at that one, as she got off the toilet bowl and headed back into the room.

"Come slave, help me get dressed." Chaewon pulled out a long-sleeved crop top, a miniskirt and a pair of thigh-high leather boots from her dresser and tossed them at your face as she sat down back on the bed. You mused for a moment at the colour choice. It was all pink, her favourite colour. You slid the miniskirt onto Chaewon, tightening it at the hips, before helping her tie her boots as she wore the top herself.

"I have to go now. But as a reward for your good performance today, you get to kiss my boots." She said as she pressed the soles of her boots against your face. You happily lapped up at the soles like the dog you are, before she finally kicks your face away and heads out.

"I'll be back after midnight slave, use this to keep yourself entertained while I'm gone." Chaewon threw a used sock at your feet as she slammed the door behind her. You heard the familiar beep of the electronic door lock, meaning that she has already left the house. You stared at the sock in front of you, picking it up like it was your most prized possession.

"Thank you Master." You bowed even if Chaewon had been long gone. You heard your phone ring in your room. You rushed over to see if Chaewon had left something behind, but it was just that your brother had called you once again for the umpteenth time. You immediately cancelled it, and looked at the sock lovingly in your arms. This is your new life now, and you are loving every moment of it.

#kim chaewon smut #kpop smut

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cas-backwards-tie · 2 years ago

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Chapter Four: Desolate Days

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: It’s time. The funeral has finally come around. While the expected have shown up, will the unexpected lead to loose threads in your life? It'll certainly raise questions, that's for sure.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Funeral, Depression, Threats, Crying, Angst,

Mentions of: Death, Bodies, Trauma,

A/N: While this chapter is angsty, and the next one contains some twists and turns, I promise it'll actually start to become more fun around chapter six once the reader gets settled into her new life!

It wasn't easy, not by any means; a week full of setting up a funeral, at fifteen, for your mother... the only real family you've ever had. Sure, there were close family friends in your life, but they weren't a constant presence, not like her. All that flew out the window when you'd been orphaned, and now, who knows what will become of those relationships. You figure, only time will tell.

As for the actual events, tonight is the viewing, followed by a dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant you guys used to love, and tomorrow morning is the burial. While there'd been lots of talk about who would come and what it would mean to them, and you, the conversation never fully came to any certain conclusion.

You don't know and aren't close with your new siblings, and while from a publicity standpoint it makes sense they should come and show their support, your Father is really the only person who knew your Mother. Even then, how well did he truly know her? The question stands. With all this in mind, you know that Bruce is accompanying you tomorrow, and by extension, Alfred too. That much you're clear on.

Money is a tough subject. Isn't it for everyone? While you weren't rich growing up in Bludhaven, you also weren't in the degree of poverty that some are, either. Nevertheless, funerals you quickly learned, cost a lot of money. You'd think it'd be one thing to bury someone in your backyard (if you had one, that is), or even toss them in the dumpster (not that you'd do that), or even set them afloat on the river and nearest ocean (that either), yet, the government wants their money. That's always what it boils down too, doesn't it? Regardless, Bruce had been suspicious when you brought up paying for the funeral. He offered, and while you'd argued for a good half hour, you'd finally compromised with him.

He wants to pay for the funeral, and you can keep the money you--somehow--have for college. Apparently, he expects you to do that now, as well. Not that college was outside of the question before, but... you still have three years to think about it, don't you? All in all, he let you pick out what you thought your mother would like, which, ultimately sort of became what you'd like... right? Besides the preferences in her will, there was still the matter of some sort of plaque or headstone, obsidian or silver... the works. Trying to keep money in mind, you didn't go crazy, but you did let him deal with it while still trying to give her at least something fairly nice.

It all happened so fast, really. Picking out everything, setting things up, and sending out a message so your family friends would know when and where to show up to pay their respects if they wished to do so. Not many people knew about your recent transfer of guardianship, or rather, to who. And while there had apparently been somewhat of a civil kerfuffle with your mother's best friend in an attempt to waive Bruce of his fatherly duties, Bruce apparently decided to claim custody of you. That's what social services naturally thought was the best fit for you.

"You don't have to go in if you don't want," Dick speaks up from behind you.

Standing outside the doors to the funeral home, you know that all too soon the doors will open up for her viewing and you won't be able to escape. Regardless of how many people show up, you'll be met with stories, jokes, emotions, conversation, and things you're just not ready to handle. Staring at the doors, Damian walks past you, soon followed by Tim as they make their way to the door.

"Sure she does. Maybe not now, but sooner or later you have to," Tim offers you with a sympathetic smile, "otherwise you'll never forgive yourself."

"That's just his regret talking," Jason accuses as he straightens the lapels of his black vest and follows the younger boys. "You do what you want, kid." A pat on the back, he too heads inside, leaving you there, Dick still lingering over your shoulder.

"It's your decision," the Detective reminds you with a sympathetic and encouraging smile before pushing open the doors to the funeral parlor.

Standing there in your short black t-shirt dress, the hem whips in the wind as a storm brews in the distance by the Fawcett-Bludhaven border, eventually destined to head your way, closer to the ocean, no doubt. Though you're adorned by a simple black headband, the accessory doesn't keep your hair from hanging around the frame of your face, eyes glued to the fancy sheen of your church shoes: a pair of black mary-janes.

"Are you second-guessing?" The gruff voice of your Father emanates from your side and you raise your eyes to meet his face. There's a forlorn and distant look in his eyes as he stares ahead at the double doors leading toward the place you know the two of you will be met with a familiar face.

With a subtle nod, he mirrors your action, a clearing of his throat as he straightens his tie. "I can't say I blame you. Though, I can make you an offer," he proposes. As he turns his head, you're met with knowing blue eyes, a hint of what you swear is mischievousness behind them. "If you ever need to bail, why don't we have some sort of code? A code word, what about that?" He expands, the furrowed brows on your face cluing him onto your thoughtful mentality.

"I have to think about it," you respond quietly, eyes roaming the property. While Bristol is an eclectic part of Gotham for sure, this part of town feels somewhat desolate. The nearest and nicest open-plot cemetery to Bludhaven, it was a compromise on everyone's behalf. Not far enough from Bludhaven to feel unlike home and lack a means of public transportation for those in need, and not one of the buildings in the city that are more mausoleum-like, an option you hadn't wanted to consider. She deserved something better. A rumbling of thunder echoes throughout the landscape, the sky growing dark in the distance; eyes brought to the weather, your mind churns. "What about... 'Blizzard'?" It wasn't totally innocuous, yet it wasn't entirely improbable either.

"It'll definitely be interesting to see how we manage to work that into conversation naturally," Bruce jokes, to which you offer him a quiet chuckle, the inkling of a smile working its way onto the corners of your lips.

"Is that okay?" You ask, unsure if he approves.

"Blizzard it is," the Billionaire agrees, stretching out a hand in a semblance of kinship. With a moment of consideration, it doesn't take long for your hand to meet his in conciliation. With a firm shake, you both turn to enter the parlor side by side.

--------

Hand clutching the prized middle-school graduation gift you'd received from your Mother, a golden chain necklace with a teardrop image of La Virgen on it, you subtly run it back and forth along the chain where it rests on your sternum between your collarbones. Despite uncomfortable conversation and questions, you hadn't needed the code word. The attempt to try and visit your Mother before the service was unfruitful, people having shown up earlier than expected, others wanting to set up and you consequently helping like the obedient little girl you often were. Nevertheless, even now with only family members remaining, you still stand at a distance where only her hands propped up on her waist are visible.

Bruce had gotten by through making conversation, trying to get to know you and your acquaintances through their association and knowledge, though their questions often turned on him. Upon the revelation that you're not only now, but always have been a Wayne dawned on them. The natural questions would tend to follow. 'How well did you know her? Were you close to her?' As much as the Playboy would love to admit he didn't know your Mother on the level it would seem most people assumed, he also knew that sort of answer might tarnish any image of your Mother that these people already had in mind. Hence, he tended to use his usual tactics of evasion in a similar manner to any gala he'd attend.

The boys ended up doing recon in some sense, all in their own versions. Damian had intended to simply find a nice corner to sit in and text Jon about the plans for their next hangout and fill him in on the dreadful activities he's been put up to on the behest of his new 'sister'. If he could even call you that. Tim hadn't been filled in on the situation concerning your little expedition with Jason and what the elder had found during that time, so when Dick naturally seemed curious and a little too snoopy for his taste in concern of the event, it was only upon questioning his brother that he found out about the circumstances.

Dick went into this with the hopes of finding out information on your family, on what you all knew, the type of people you were, and what they knew specifically about you and your Mom. That much cash laying around even with the excuse of not trusting banks, in Bludhaven of all places, was ridiculous. Especially for the job he dug around and found out your Mother had. Therefore, he took to subtly interrogating people under the guise of attempting to get to know his new little sister better.

Jason had intended to go only on the purpose of supporting you, and watching his family in suspect, considering they've all seemed dubious of your Mother and your family's involvement in some sort of criminal activity. While he'd been curious, watching you, talking to you, he's found that there's probably not much further whatever 'secret' your family is hiding goes. Sometimes people do things they need to do to survive, and if he's heard any stories about your Mother this evening, he'd suspect that's it.

Damian eventually caught wind of Grayson's not-so-subtle tactics of questioning people, and decided his evening would be much more fruitful doing exactly what his brother was doing, only in a more professional manner. After all, once he'd rounded the parlor he'd seen his Father doing the same thing in his own fashion, therefore, he can't be mad at them for doing the same when he's the one who's supposed to be setting the example, right?

Oblivious to your new family's motives, you try and work up the courage to say goodbye to her... to her face. Evading the happy images that filter through wild transitions on television's slideshow to the right, you run a thumb over the memorium card you'd taken. Even if they were for everyone else, you still wanted one. Room practically empty, you finally take the leap and close the space between you and the open casket.

Immediately you have to avert your eyes. It's... too painful. Yet, another curious part of you tempts you to take another look. Upon second glance it simply appears as if she's sleeping. Peacefully. There's no lacerations or marks, no sign of any sort of ill-wrought event, and yet, you know the wiser. "I hate this," you whisper through your teeth, jaw clenching in an attempt to keep your tears at bay. "It's not fair. I don't know why... why it had to be you." With a sniffle and a heavy sigh that bobs your shoulders, you reach out and place a small hand on her larger, and eerily cold hand. "I wish I could ask you, that I could talk to you- that you could tell me why- why you never told me! I don't- I don't want to do this but I know I have to, and he's giving me... all you ever wanted for me. I-" Breath coming quicker, you have to force yourself to speak the next words, determined not to break down in front of everyone. "Te quiero mucho, mamá, te extraño, y vas a recordar para siempre." With a gentle squeeze to her hand, you turn and head for the doors, eyes downcast as you avoid everyone.

--------

Somehow, the universe always reflected its events; while it’d been mostly thunder and heat lightning the night prior, this morning the dark clouds have been pouring rain. Alfred had gotten you up, though really you hadn’t slept much in anticipation of what today would hold. Having been dressed for some time now, all you’ve done is sit at the window seat and stare outside, watching the rain pelt the earth repeatedly, unyielding in its triumph. You can’t help but think it’s like life, forceful until the end, when it eventually wanes and succumbs to a stop. Maybe you’re overthinking, but with everything that’s been going on… you don’t think you can help it.

“Hey,” your Father’s voice calls from the door, a gentle knock on the wood follows as he continues to open it and step through the threshold. “Are you ready? Breakfast is waiting, and then Alfred’s gonna take us,” he informs, “the boys are going to join for breakfast, but then it’ll just be us, alright?”

Before he can get too far into the room you rise from the window seat and tear your attention away from the gardens. With a nod, you meet him halfway and follow downstairs.

Breakfast is mostly silent, as you’re sure no one is quite certain what to say. If they could say anything, that is. Hell, even Damian doesn't have a snarky remark, and Dick doesn't try and make meaningless conversation. It all comes and goes far faster than you'd imagined, though the food was delicious. With your departure and solemn looks from your newfound siblings, Alfred pulls the Rolls Royce up to a gentle stop before the Manor's fancy double doors.

It was hard to believe she was in there. Yes, you'd picked out the coffin, yes you'd seen her at the viewing, and yet... this is your Mother. The woman who birthed you, who fed you, who took care of you year after year, and was there for you no matter what. And now... she's gone.

It doesn't feel real. The rain pattering against the umbrella Bruce holds up over you. All the people who sit and stand opposite of the priest as he goes about his rites. Of course there came time for the eulogy, and while there was the option of making one yourself, you couldn't find it within yourself to do so. Like Tim had mentioned, this could be something you may regret later, but in this moment it feels like too much. There's a dull queasiness that never leaves your stomach as you stand, eyes cast downward as your hands lay clasped before you. Rain, muck, and mud cling to your black mary-jane shoes, the ground now beginning to flood as the soil's beared all it can soak up for the next coming weeks.

People come and go, they give their well wishes and hopes for your sake, and yet you can't really put any of it to mind or manner as all you can focus on is the growing emptiness within you. This isn't how things were supposed to go. You weren't supposed to be burying your parent... not this soon. That's not how it works!

It's the call of your name that stirs you from your thoughts. Eyes raising to the familiar face, you can't help but feel your eyes widen with the shock and astonishment that they had the audacity to visit... to stay. Yes, he wasn't a stranger; yet an acquaintance isn't necessarily a friend. The boy lifts his hands to cup one of yours between his. "I'm so sorry to hear what happened, Mi Amor, I'm always here for you, sabes," Saul says. Though there's a sympathetic look in his eyes, you don't trust him one bit. Not after he'd taken one opportunity after another and gotten trapped up with the man behind him: Antonio 'Angel' Marin. Sure, you'd dumped Saul before he'd become affiliated with the notorious Bludhaven mob boss, but it didn't do him any favors holding company like that.

As Saul leaves you and heads toward the line of black cars along the cemetery road, you dread the man next in line. "It's an unfortunate thing, losing a mother," Angel speaks, "looks like luck had its way with you though, getting you out." From the outside it might seem inappropriate, or perhaps simply a mistaken and poorly judged comment, but you know better. Lips pursing, jaw tightening, you don't dare let your hands form into fists as you meet the man's eyes.

His oily face and ratty mustache meet your gaze, and you suddenly feel anger beginning to simmer in your gut. Though you're not sure why. While there'd been a time you may have considered him a family friend, a protector, a genius, and a revolutionary... those times have gone. He hadn't done your family wrong, in fact, he'd done nothing but try to help you and your Mom out of poverty, and yet... there were always strings attached. Neither of you had seen them at first and once you'd wanted out, you'd luckily gotten out without too much of a fight. Thankfully, unlike some of the stories you've heard, and yet, somewhere within you the anger persists. Maybe it's the smug look on his face, his taunting words perhaps, but whatever it is, he irks you.

"Don't go gettin' into any more trouble, ya hear?" His thin voice lets out a wry chuckle and he lays a pat on your shoulder before you can dodge it. Watching him leave with his trail of two or three choice goons behind him, you can't help but feel like he'd only come here for one thing, and one thing only... to taunt you. Was it a warning? A sign? A way of telling you that without his protection you were doomed? Leading a life toward failure? Only to end up like your Mother? No... no, that can't be it. There has to be something else, that can't be it.

"Do you know him?" Bruce asks, finally speaking up for the first time since the service ended. He'd seen the whole interaction, he knows who that man was... but he doesn't know if you do. Not truly, anyway. Even if the grimace and shiver that'd run up your spine was visible from the way you attempted to evade the evil man's touch. Eyes peering down at you, he's disturbed by the lack of eye contact you make. Maybe he shouldn't be... you haven't been talking or interacting as much as you had been in the days leading up to this, something that's normal, he can only imagine.

"Once," you respond faintly. Eyes coming back to the rolling hills of the cemetery you watch the rain continue to pour. Life doesn't seem to stir here, no sight of sneaky intruders like squirrels, doves, or robins, no other patrons coming to visit their loved ones on a day like this. Thunder cracks overhead, and the diminishing sound of tires on gravel signals the Angel's departure. With a thick swallow, your hands finally ball up into fists. A single tear finally breaches the confines of your eyelid and slips down your cheek. With a heavy sigh you turn, meeting Alfred who stands a few feet behind the both of you. Stomping over to him, you grab the bouquet of flowers you'd all picked up on the way. "If you want to say anything... here," you announce over the sounds of the thunderstorm. Undoing the plastic and rubber bands from the store-bought bouquet, you hand both the men a single flower. Determined that the rest should belong to you, you head over to the grave, uncaring if you get wet any longer as you're no longer under their umbrellas.

Though your teeth hurt from the way your jaw is clenched, you can't help it as the tears start to flow more freely. With everyone gone, you don't mind being here alone. Placing the flowers atop your Mother's casket, your hand lingers on the polished wood while your free hand hangs onto the necklace your Mother had given you. "I can't do this without you," the words come in a whisper, your head almost meeting the wood before you think better of it. You don't want to appear a broken-down mess in front of the men watching. "I don't know what t-to do."

Raindrops soak your hair, coat your dress and shoes, your socks have splashes of water and freshly cut grass, not to mention that your face is covered in a mixture of raindrops and tears. A few moments of silence is all you need before you finally gather the courage to say one last goodbye and turn away, heading down the hill back toward the car before the storm gets worse.

------

"Dick... there's something you should know," Bruce mentions quietly. It's obvious from his behavior that he's upset, that this won't be a long conversation. "Antonio Marin was at her funeral. He came up to her and spoke something cryptic. I asked her about it and she said that she knew him once. I know I asked you all not to dig around, but, this is in your territory and I thought you should know." Evading his son's eye contact, he straightens his tie and sniffs, still clad in his tuxedo from the funeral. "I'll see if I can get any more information out of her, but... I don't want her caught up in this... I don't-" he sighs, finally turning to meet his son's gaze again with a look he's only seen once before, "-I don't want her getting hurt."

"I... understand." With a nod and a sympathetic look upon his face, the younger man stretches out his hand to lay it on his Father's shoulder in a small form of comfort. He knows Bruce well enough to know that anything too grand would steer him away, and while the thought of another child getting hurt at his behest unburies all the trauma Dick knows Jason's death had brought him, Dick knows they can't change the past. "I- we won't let that happen. I promise you that, Dad."

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

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zedecksiew · 4 months ago

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A PERFECT WIFE

(It is Vampire Weekend! Have a pontianak-themed urban-horror investigative adventure. I wrote it with Kuala Lumpur in mind, but it should work for any big city just fine.)

+++

DISAPPEARANCES

An inner-city neighbourhood, too ugly for gentrification. Refugees have settled here. They fled war in their own country. But they have not escaped violence.

People work basement sweatshops, or clean toilets in nightclubs. They stumble home in the morning dark. At dawn, their neighbours find gore blotching the dumpsters.

The first disappearance was a year ago. Now it happens with alarming regularity—every fortnight. The neighbourhood is tense. Most agree the following precautions work:

Cross the road if you spot rats.

Walk on if your name is called.

Do not look for the baby crying.

+++

THE COMMUNITY CENTRE

A school for refugee children. A girl in pink polka dots tugs the sleeve of a hijabi woman. “Shingalong time, Missh Shara?” she asks.

Sara gives in. Poor Yinyin! Her father vanished over the weekend. Sara offers cash for information about what happened to him. The authorities don’t seem to care.

Sara cares. She teaches English here, weekdays. Last year, when she miscarried, she bled all over the felt carpeting. She paid to have it cleaned. A faint stain remains.

YINYIN, THE ORPHAN Sniffling, hiding, remembering.

A bundle of giggles, playing with her friends—but as soon as she is allowed a moment on her own she crouches, hugs herself, sobs.

Yinyin tells you her Papa is short a finger on his left hand, and has a picture of a scary black cat on his right arm. Yinyin tells you she loves her Papa.

“Shaturday night, Papa wentsh out to buy shtuff at the shop. Papa hashn’t come home. Will you ashk Uncle Yat when Papa will be home?”

SARA, THE WIFE Literature, pastry arts, embroidery.

At brunch her friends coo: “Look. At. You! You’re glowing!” Then they smile, half-cringing. They know she knows they’re lying.

Sara has not been sleeping well. Hormones, she thinks. She is six months into her second pregnancy. This will be her firstborn child. She will not disappoint her husband the doctor again.

She has a nail embedded into the back of her neck. She cannot feel it. Her hijab means nobody else sees it.

+++

THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

Shop signs in a language you cannot read. Even the thoroughfares feel like alleys. Whenever you turn a corner, roll an encounter:

Music blaring from a phone. A gang of six 38-ers. They whistle passers-by over, to squeeze for snack money.

Excited yaps. Seven dogs, four puppies. An elderly man has brought them rice and curry, in styrofoam packets.

The flutter of yellow paper. Ideograms and a tiger, drawn in red ink. Somebody has lost their protective talisman.

Squeaks from a smelly drain. A rat pokes its head out, peers at you for a full minute, then continues on its way.

Police tape. “Move along, move along,” Sub-inspector Rafiq repeats, bored. A severed finger has been found.

“Eh-hek, eh-hek, eeeeeeeeeh!” A baby has begun to cry, close by. Just behind that pile of boxes. Sara’s baby.

38-ER, GANG MEMBER Machete use, boasting, escaping.

Tattooed on their bare shoulders: the number “38”, stylised to look like the symbol for the sacred sound Aum.

Are these disappearances the work of some rival triad, trying to take over their turf? They were protective amulets. They move in groups. One in every group carries a gun.

They are still losing. Three senior members have gone missing. Their boss Uncle Day has not left his club in weeks.

SARA’S BABY, THE GHOSTLING Stalking, mimicking, exsanguination.

There was no funeral because she lost them so early. She buried their remains, mourned them in private. She doesn’t know their spirit is still abroad.

Usually invisible; materialises to attack. Appears as a child with corpse-green pallor; talons; and proboscis-like umbilical cord.

Will never harm Sara. Hungers for her affection. Often spies on her at the Community Centre. May copy her teaching voice: “Quiet please!” “Sit down, children!” Make a check, or obey.

DEALING WITH SARA’S BABY

As resilient as an ordinary five-year-old. Harmed by mundane weapons. If slain, reappears the next new moon. Even full funeral rites will not put them to rest.

The wrong that made them was done to their mother.

+++

REFUGEES

It is a close-knit neighbourhood. Folk gossip about your business. Some are becoming familiar faces. At every location, roll to see who also happens to be here:

An eleven-year-old. Suki. Organising, hauling, shortcut-taking. With five siblings to support, she has stopped school. Is a gofer for most businesses. Has keys to most back doors.

A one-armed man. Uncle Tin. Marksmanship, bushcraft, forgetting. His panther tattoo marks him as a former resistance fighter. Cheap rum in his pocket. An assault rifle in his flat.

A woman, heavy makeup. Sanda. Dancing, drinking, scrimping. Go-go dancer. Annoyed that the the new girls at the club pinching her regulars. Uncle Day’s favourite niece.

A bald head, robes. Brother Pha. Selling, haggling, spellcraft. Peddles a camphor liniment. “I bless, I bless!” Claims it wards against evil. It stings spiritual entities like pepper spray.

Always taking a call. Mr Nong. Spying, deception, pistol-use. Seems helpful, but feeds you bad leads. Actually a private investigator keeping an eye on things for Dr Azman.

Waddles like a duck. Mya. Cooking, scolding, knife-use. She is expecting twins—two boys. “My hubby’s so happy.” Unless you get involved, will be the next person to disappear.

+++

THE SHOP

No signboard; doesn’t need one. Sells cosmetics; produce and spice pastes for dishes from the old country; third-hand phones.

Also roasted sunflower seeds; cheap rum; smuggled cannabis—enjoyed at tables in the alley out back.

UNCLE YAT, THE SHOPKEEPER Smuggling, gossiping, electronics.

“See this panther here?” He points to a tattoo on his left arm. “We fought. We believed! But we lost. That’s life.” He takes another drag of his spliff, and chortles.

Yinyin’s father was here, Saturday, drinking. “Putting the charm on some girl. Real pretty! And getting real close, touching his face, all that. They left together.”

Yat gets quiet. “After what we’ve been through? We all deserve some happiness.” Yat thinks she was a go-go girl. “They work at the club. Go ask Day.”

+++

THE POLICE KIOSK

Community board: empty. Front desk: empty. Air-conditioning: freezing. You have to press the call buzzer four times before an officer appears, irritated.

Whatever you say, she will ask if you want to make a report. “Here, the form. Write. Sign.”

SUB-INSPECTOR RAFIQ, THE OFFICER Report-writing, delegating, pistol use.

Takes cigarettes breaks to escape the kiosk’s chill. Obliged to set up a cordon around any scenes of obvious violence. Treats his job as a pensioner’s hobby.

A grey moustache, holding your attention. Friendly but unhelpful. Mention Sara and his eyes narrow; he asks whether you know Dr Azman.

“Because I do. The doctor’s wife has pure intentions, yes. But she is naive. These refugees? They are bad people. We should protect pure women from bad realities.”

+++

THE CLUB

A poor person’s idea of what wealth looks like: lots of glass; lots of pleather. Driving dangdut. Dancers gyrating on stages in front of murals of elephants, phoenixes, panthers.

Upstairs, a 38-er with a shotgun guards an armoured door. To meet the boss, you must be vouched for.

UNCLE DAY, THE BOSS Speechifying, martial arts, rifle-use.

A fifty-year-old veteran with hippie dreads. Panther-themed ink. Day was a military commander. Now he fights on a different plane.

“My people’s true war is spiritual. You appear on a lucky day—very lucky. It is fate. Preordained! What insight do you bring, heavenly messenger?”

Confirms that there are many fresh faces on weekends. “Beautiful girls are sacred animals, you understand? We cannot turn away beauty!”

+++

THE WOMAN OF YOUR DREAMS

This happens on the next weekend night, to the most cishet male person among you:

Maybe she is in some sort of trouble, and her car won’t start. Maybe she is on a corner, smoking—one black eye. Maybe she is on the podium, enduring gropes and jeers.

She is beautiful. Exactly your type. You can save her, be her hero. She will be grateful.

There are warning signs. There is no car. She will not describe her assailants. She leads you down a dead end. Her fragrance is sweet, like rotting flower garlands. Every dog in the neighbourhood bays.

She lowers her eyes, bites her lip. How can she repay you? she asks. This is a game she likes. Gratification delayed. It makes the end delicious.

Show suspicion, fear? She gets annoyed. Why aren’t you playing along?

Her neck twists around. She grins, chin over the nape of her neck. Arms at wrong angles, fingers ending in talons. She lopes after you, running backwards with a digitigrade gait.

SARA, THE PONTIANAK Pretending, pursuing, disembowelling.

The pontianak is a nightmare: born when an unhappy mother dies at childbirth; made when life is destroyed, trying to satiate the demands of the patriarchy.

The pontianak is a predator: she eats men. Women are exempt—except when they are pregnant with a male foetus. Baby flesh tastes best.

The pontianak is reversal. In human form, her physical features are tailored to appeal to potential victims. She must reveal her monstrously twisted form to feed.

The pontianak is fear. She wants her victims to know. She has tells. She always smells of rotting flowers. Dogs hate her: one will flee; a pack will attack.

SARA’S POWERS

She may whisper to any man she can see. The target hears this whisper over any distance. She materialises by his ear.

She may laugh, a high-pitched cackle. Men who hear this laugh develop debilitating fever a day later. Breaks after a week.

She may touch your clothes. Unerringly locates any man wearing any article of clothing she has previously touched.

She may fly. Moves through the air as if running on solid ground.

She may change shape. Besides taking human woman’s shape, she may also transform into a bay owl.

DEALING WITH PONTIANAKS

As resilient as three human persons. Harmed by mundane weapons. If slain, reappears the next new moon.

A known solution is imprisonment: a specially-prepared nail, stabbed into the back of her neck. This transforms the pontianak into a human woman.

Unaware of the nail, amnesiac, she is easily groomed by her captor. Often she is made to perform sanctioned gender roles—marriage, family-making—roles she previously abandoned.

The pontianak remains within. Her children may be born as monsters. If the nail is removed, she remembers what she is, and once again goes free.

DEALING WITH SARA

A pontianak always has a nest—typically a banana plant, banyan, or frangipani. This is where the root of her spirit resides; where she retreats if her body is slain.

Kill the pontianak, wait for her to retreat to her tree. Trap her inside with mystic wards. Burn the tree. This destroys her permanently.

Sara’s banana plant is in the back garden of her house.

+++

THE HOUSE

A two-storey bungalow, in one of the city’s oldest suburbs. The neighbours are cousins of sultans, hedge-fund managers, architects.

The perfectly manicured back garden has spider lilies, frangipanis—and a single banana stem, in a person-sized urn. “Easier to control the corm, so it grows neat,” Dr Azman explains.

The banana’s trunk has a girdle woven from coarse black thread. Look closer: the thread is human hair.

DR AZMAN, THE HUSBAND Gardening, surgery, spellcraft.

Has a driver with a concealed-carry licence. Went to boarding school with the current Defence Minister. Framed: doctorates in a variety of medical fields; a masters in anthropology.

“Black magic? Bloodsucking spirits?” He shrugs. “Charlatans, placebo effect, criminal types using spooky stories to hide trafficking operations.”

You notice a vial on a cord around his neck. Inside: a single hair, suspended in dark oil. He buttons up his shirt without a word. He asks Sara to bring tea. “You’ve met my wife?”

DR AZMAN’S WIFE

Dr Azman wanted a wife. He did not leave such a thing to the vagaries of love; he made one for himself. Etched the nail in her neck; wove the girdle around her tree.

Dr Azman wants a son—though he is willing to accept a daughter. His first try failed. His perfect wife does have some downsides.

Dr Azman is trying again. Curious how gestation goes easier if his wife’s spirit is let out, given leave to feed. Nourishment for the foetus? Once every two weeks.

When he removes her nail she blusters and threatens. She doesn’t mean those things, he knows. He wears protection, as a precaution.

Dr Azman’s vial contains oil distilled from the flesh of Sara’s original corpse. Sara may never harm the person who wears this vial.

+++

Some notes:

This was written with page references---ie: "turn to pg xx"---because that's what I do as a matter of course in drafting. But I couldn't get internal hyperlinks to work with Tumblr's text editor; my html-fu isn't good enough. Sorry. Hope it is still legible nonetheless.

The original version of this was written as a monster entry for an urban fantasy game. Stripped the system-specific stuff out; expanded the adventure bits (locations, characters, shape of What Is Going On). Basically rewrote the whole thing.

Writing for a contemporary setting is interesting. Felt okay to use an even more basic version of the system-neutral "stat block" I usually use. Mechanics aren't a prerequisite to contextualise action in modern-day reality, consider we (most of us, anyway) actually live here.

Malaysian hantu / monsters are overwhelmingly gendered female; most are created from childbirth and its horrors. They are nightmares of the patriarchy (and its callous treatment of women's bodies) made manifest.

Every Malaysian writer eventually writes a pontianak story. This is mine, I guess? The one bit in the pontianak mythos that arrests me most is the idea that she can be captured, turned into a "proper" woman. And that this is spoken of as some sort of victory, some sort triumph against evil---men win, in the end, always and forever.

The refugee angle is me working through Malaysian society's xenophobia towards of asylum seekers. I have written about it before; it is still relevant now.

This adventure explicitly casts the husband as the villain. He should get his comeuppance. Any way the situation develops, Sara---an innocent woman---will not come out of this unscathed.

Felt okay to sketch the NPCs, but not the monsters, because I'm not a good enough artist. Your imagination is better than I.

Image credits:

https://www.reddit.com/r/UrbanHell/comments/ufb8de/random_alley_in_cheras_kuala_lumpur_malaysia/

https://www.sabahpost.net/2019/12/06/polis-tembak-mati-3-pengedar-dadah-rampas-syabu-dan-senjata-api/

https://www.hmetro.com.my/mutakhir/2021/08/747004/balai-polis-sungai-besi-dihias-indah-sempena-hari-kebangsaan

https://www.reddit.com/media?url=https%3A%2F%2Fi.redd.it%2Flmb0m4v472n81.jpg

Nick Gray on Flickr

https://g.co/kgs/7wu8NTh

https://naturerules1.fandom.com/wiki/Oriental_Bay_Owl

https://www.bikemap.net/en/r/7659968/

https://www.secret-retreats.com/blog/general-info/list-of-edible-flowers-in-asia-floral-delights-in-asian-cuisine-part-1.html

#ttrpgs #real life #fantasies #writing #pontianak #vampires #ghosts #hantu #malaysia #refugees #adventures

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 3 months ago

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Untitled Spamton X Reader fic Ch1

The stress of election night made me cave and start writing a self-indulgent Spamton x Reader fic...that I was hoping to finish that night but as you can see it took me a bit longer because writing 6k words in one night is hard. T_T

Anyway, he's my entry into the genre of "Reader finds Spamton in a dumpster and takes him home" fics. Maybe there's room for one more in that category? 🥺

Not sure if/when I'll continue working on this but uh. Here y'all go.

(Also sorry I spend the first few paragraphs writing an actual vent post about my actual job adfajdafjdal)

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Today hasn’t exactly been noteworthy. It’s just another day, like so many you’ve had before. Wake up, trudge over to your desk, sign on to work, pretend you’ve been awake for at least an hour longer than you have been, and rub the sleep out of your eyes while you gnosh on a cereal bar because (as usual) you don’t have time to make anything else before your morning meetings start.

You pay no more or less attention than usual, picking away at your own tasks while two of your coworkers have an in depth discussion on something you probably don’t need to concern yourself with. With your camera off they are left to assume you’re listening just as raptly as they’d wish you to.

The meeting ends and you dive fully into your work. You enjoy programming. The product itself (some productivity-helper app that’s not much different than dozens of others) is not of particular interest to you. You don’t even use it in your personal life--only for checking on work-related things.

You get a ping from a coworker. The dev environment is down. Again. He doesn’t know how to fix it. He heard you do?

You suppress a sigh that he wouldn’t’ve heard through the screen anyway.

You fixed it once, about a year ago, out of desperation. It had been an easy fix but somehow it had been enough to convince people you Knew What You Were Doing, and a couple more fixes later, you found yourself in the unenviable position of “The Guy (gender-neutral)”.

You close several windows and open several more, your previous task for the day forgotten. Two more people ping you. Did you know the dev environment is down? Yes. Your boss pings you. Did you know? Of course you know.

You dive back into the spaghetti code you still don’t fully understand. The person who wrote it left six months ago. You follow a thread of convoluted logic, only to lose your train of thought when another colleague messages you.

Did you know?

YES.

Line by line, search query after search query, you toil to untangle the mess.

And suddenly find your own code staring you back in the face. The very first fix you’d made had been defective. Impermanent. A flimsy rubber band that had finally snapped.

You frown. You wonder what you’d been thinking when you’d fixed it before. The flaw in your approach seems obvious now. And yet somehow it had been good enough for you to be crowned “The Guy (gender-neutral)”.

You sure weren’t “The Guy (gender-neutral)” then…but maybe you are now. Or close to it.

A couple more keystrokes and dev is back in business.

…It’s also the middle of the night, your colleagues have signed off, and you forgot to eat dinner. Again.

You crash down from the high of your accomplishment--deflated, hungry, and tired. You message chat that everything’s fixed but you’ll be late tomorrow, and close your work computer.

How had you worked for twelve hours without even noticing? Maybe you like programming more than you thought.

You’re not sure how you feel about that.

You rise from your chair with a tired groan, padding out to the kitchen.

…Where you promptly see--and worse, smell--the bag of trash you meant to take out this morning.

“Ugggghhhh…” you groan in disgust and self-pity, your shoulders slumping.

You grumble to yourself in frustration as you pull on your coat, grab the bag roughly by the handles as if it had any more say its fate than you, and proceed to name-drop every one of your coworkers in your mumblings as you make your way down four flights of stairs.

…Only to realize it’s raining. Not exactly a downpour--light enough that you didn’t hear it from your apartment, but heavy enough that you’ll definitely be soaked if you try to get to the dumpster.

Whatever. You’re not lugging the trash bag back up the stairs only to get your umbrella. You were going to change into your PJs while dinner was cooking anyway.

You grit your teeth and cross the dimly lit parking lot to the three-wall, roofless structure that contains the dumpsters and recycling bins.

The rain in your eyes, the dim lighting, and your own grim determination to be done with your task almost cause you to miss it, but as you’re attempting to dry your hands before stuffing them back in your coat pockets, you see it.

A small white boot sticking out from the gap between the dumpster and the enclosure. You’re not sure what draws you to it--at first you think it’s just an old discarded piece of clothing that fell out of the overflowing bin.

Your gut instinct realizes what your conscious mind hasn’t yet, forcing you to take a step towards it and get a closer look.

Your stomach twists as you realize the boot is definitely still attached to something. At first you think it’s a child, but the figure’s odd proportions dismiss the idea before you can even so much as cry out in alarm.

The head accounts for about a third of the height, and the shoulders are strangely broad, with the legs being rather short in proportion. Though all that is trivial compared to the distinctly inhuman face.

Well…it’s probably meant to be based on a human, you realize, but it certainly isn’t one. The large mouth is fixed in a permanent, uncannily huge grin, and the pointed nose is cartoonishly long. A pair of glasses cover the eyes, the lenses of which are currently dark.

It’s too big to be a doll. A ventriloquist puppet, maybe? The jaw looks articulated in the way that such puppets usually are. Not that you know much about puppets or puppetry.

But you think they’re usually expensive…though price aside, even this scuffed up, damaged figure seems deserving of a fate better than being tossed into some dumpster. You’ve always been the sentimental sort who feels sorry for lost and damaged toys, despite knowing full well that they’re not “real”.

Someone had once believed they were, and then they just…stopped.

You shake off the melancholy thought with a literal shake of your head, flinging raindrops from your hair.

You crouch down beside the puppet, tucking your hands under its arms and hoisting it up, only to nearly drop it as your grip fumbles. It’s way heavier than you’d expected! You’d assumed ventriloquist puppets were mostly hollow, but this one certainly isn’t. Maybe your assumption had just been wrong?

It’s going to be more of a pain to lug this thing back to your apartment, but well…in for a penny, in for a pound. Or fifty. Whichever.

There’s also something a bit odd about its joints…its limbs don’t flop around as much as you’d expect, but you chalk that up to the joints being partially stuck.

You carry it upright, your arms around its waist while its arms drape over your shoulders. You swear you hear a slight groan from it as you push the stairwell door open with your hip. It must have a voice box? Did puppets usually have those? Either way, the low, droning suggested the batteries were almost dead.

You finally make it up to your unit. If it hadn’t been raining you’d’ve been drenched with sweat now. As it is, it’s probably still mostly rainwater, but you try not to think about how much of a sweat you worked up carrying the heavy thing upstairs.

You kick the door shut behind you, flinching when it closes a bit louder than you’d meant it to. You take the puppet to the kitchen, laying it on its back on the counter. Or trying to…one of its hands gets caught on the hood of your jacket. When you reach up to pull it free, you realize the joints of the hand had curled in at some point, gripping the hoodie.

There’s something…off about that, about this whole thing, but…it’s just a puppet…right?

There’s nothing else it could be, really…

You remove your jacket, tossing it over the back of one of the dining chairs for now. There’s really no reason for you to tend to the puppet before yourself, but…

You grab a paper towel and begin wiping the grime and rainwater from its face, occasionally glancing at the darkened glasses that obscure its eyes. What an odd looking thing…but puppets often are.

You can’t quite tell what it’s made of. Wood or plastic are your best guesses but neither of them quite fit. It has the smooth rigidness of plastic but somehow, paradoxically, it also seems somewhat organic and is a bit warmer than you’d expect a rain soaked toy to be. The material’s even a bit malleable. The nose even has a bit of give, you realize as you push on it experimentally, bending it downwards. Foam, maybe?

As you push on the nose, the head abruptly turns away, and another low, rattly moan plays from the voice box.

With a gasp, you quickly pull away. Does…this thing have some kind of mechanism to move on its own? Maybe it’s only meant to look like a puppet, but is actually more of a robotic toy? That would explain the weight, you suppose…

But it certainly adds to the mystery of why anyone would throw it away.

You cup its cheek in one hand as you use the other to wipe some grime from its hair.

Your gaze drifts downward and you realize its clothes should probably be removed and hung up to dry.

…Why does that thought cause your face to heat up? You’ve fixed up old dolls and toys before, with no particular regard for their modesty.

You’re just tired. You’re tired and had a stressful day and it’s making you just a bit silly. That’s all.

You reach down and start attempting to remove the puppet’s blazer. Before you can undo the first button, though, its arm shoots up, its small hand wrapping around your wrist.

“[[ Showroom model only--not available for purchase! ]] [[ Break it you buy it!! ]]” Two audio clips in two different voices play from somewhere within the puppet.

You scream in surprise, pulling back so quickly you accidentally drag the puppet off the counter before it can let go of your wrist. You don’t fare much better as your heel catches on the leg of a dining chair, causing you to land hard on your rear.

You place a hand over your chest, trying to calm yourself. There’s a rational explanation for the puppet’s movement on the tip of your tongue, but it flies out the window almost immediately.

The puppet stirs. His glasses go from black to grey static as he lifts a hand to his forehead, struggling to get his bearings. The corners of his mouth are turned down in what you guess must be the closest thing to a frown he can muster with his large, semi-permanent grin.

“Wh-What the hell…” you breathe in a strained whisper.

“[[ Temp--Temp--Temporarily out of service!! ]]” This audio clip is yet another voice. It sounds like the clip was originally recorded in a peppy, upbeat tone, but the playback is so low and garbled you can’t help but compare it to someone at the brink of death struggling to speak.

The puppet goes limp once again, the grey static on his glasses fading back to black. He’s collapsed on the floor, laying on his side in a growing puddle of rainwater as it slowly runs off his clothes.

You stare at him in stunned silence for several moments.

It’s mechanical. Robotic. A weird toy robot…thing…with low batteries and probably a busted circuit board or two.

It’s not alive.

But why would an expensive toy robot be in the dumpster?

Why would a living puppet be in the dumpster???

Your brain’s just fried from work. You need rest. And probably food. The puppet can wait.

You bite your lip. He’s not alive, but…that’s no reason to just leave him on the floor, right?

You quickly grab one of your fluffy bath towels from the linen closet and wrap the puppet in it, carrying him to the living room and laying him on the couch with far more respect and dignity than a totally-not-alive puppet actually needs, even putting one of your throw pillows under his head.

The rainwater’s going to soak through the towel and you’ll have a damp sofa by the time you finish dinner, but…well. It’ll dry. Whatever.

Still…you take a moment to look him over again as you kneel beside the couch. You place a hand on his cheek, turning his head slightly towards yourself. The grimace from before seems to have relaxed into a fairly neutral smile…you guess that must be his “default” expression.

You brush a few stray locks of hair from his face, then adjust his arms so that his hands are atop his chest--a more comfortable resting position than them splayed haphazardly beside him. As you do, you lightly grip one of his hands. It’s a bit smaller than your own, and the joints are fully articulated, giving it the same range of motion as a human hand.

The hand twitches and you quickly drop it. It lands with a soft thud atop his chest.

Enough silliness. You can look over the puppet once you get your head together.

You go into the bathroom, finally stripping out of your wet clothes and hanging them on the curtain rod to dry before changing into your PJs--some flannel lounge pants and an oversize T-shirt. As you walk back to the kitchen, you glance at the puppet on your couch, but force yourself not to stop and check on him again.

You hope some mac and cheese will pull you out of whatever temporary insanity working for twelve hours straight has inflicted upon you.

Spamton stirs as the sound of the soft thudding of a wooden spoon stirring a pot of boiling pasta reaches him.

Where…is he? The towel slides off him as he sits up, and he glances at it curiously, running his thumb over the soft, fluffy fabric. There was never anything this nice in the dumpster, that’s for sure.

But he’s also clearly not in his dumpster. He takes in the sight of your dimly lit apartment, the only light coming from the kitchen.

It doesn’t quite look like any sort of Cyber City apartment he’s ever seen. He can’t quite put his finger on why, but…after a second of thought, the word “mundane” pops into his mind. This place is more mundane than any part of Cyber City he’s ever been to. Though…he supposes he’s really only seen the highest highs and lowest lows…maybe the middle tiers of the city are a bit more mundane. It would make a certain amount of sense, though he can’t help but think the answer’s more complicated than that.

He slides off the couch, looking towards the light spilling from the kitchen.

“Mundane” aside, how’d he get into any apartment? As desperate as he’d gotten, he’d never committed B & E…at least for the purpose of sleeping on some stranger’s couch. And how long has it been since anyone had invited him into their home?

How long has it been since…anything?

Spamton wracks his brain, trying to pull up his most recent memory, whatever he was doing before he ended up here. The last thing he can remember--clearly, anyway--is just sitting in his dumpster in the back alleys of Cyber City, about to doze off.

But…somehow that memory seems like it was from long ago. Weeks, at least. And there are glimpses of something more recent that he can’t quite place.

Green wires.

The rollercoaster, with three carts speeding towards him.

A blue-haired, blue-skinned Lightner.

The latter, he had no idea who they were…and that thought caused a pang of guilt in his chest. They were…important. Why couldn’t he remember?

His gaze drifts back towards the kitchen and he slowly steps towards it.

How do you fit into any of this, he wonders?

You’re pouring the pasta and water into the strainer when you hear a sound behind you.

The quiet click of hard-soled shoes on kitchen tile.

You turn to glance behind you, more out of instinct than any expectation to actually see anything.

The puppet is up and walking towards you, a sight so shocking on its own that you don’t even notice the curious, borderline timid expression on his face, nor the way his hands are raised slightly as if to assure you he means no harm.

You wish you’d simply frozen at the sight of him.

Instead, your fatigued, nervous, downright jittery brain panics immediately, spinning fully to face him, despite the pot of boiling water in your hand. Lucky for you it’s nearly empty, but “nearly” is still enough for a decent sized splash to land on your bare forearm.

You cry out in pain, clutching your burned arm to your chest as you collapse onto the floor, your back pressed against the cabinets as you stare wide-eyed at the puppet.

“WOAH !! RELAX [[ valued customer ]]!!” the puppet speaks, his voice far clearer than it had been before. Though there’s still a slight static to it, as if it’s being played over a worn out speaker. “[[ Apologies for the inconvenience ]], I’M NOT--”

Spamton cuts himself off when he realizes you’re now staring down at your burned arm. Your hands are shaking as you stare at your blistering skin, tears of pain--and probably fear--welling in your eyes.

“[[ It Burns! Ow! Stop! Help Me! It Burns! ]]”

Your gaze snaps back to him. “What?!” you yelp, incredulous despite the bizarreness of the situation. Why’s he acting like he’s the one who got burned?

No sooner than the thought enters your head than you notice his slack expression, his glasses once again going staticy. But once again, things seem to pivot on a dime and he snaps out of it so fast you wonder if you weren’t just seeing things.

“SORRY!!” he says, holding up his hands. “DIDN’T MEAN TO [[ all kinds of surprises!! ]] YOU!!”

Spamton steps towards you and you shrink back against the cabinets. He takes the hint and backs off, still holding up his hands. After a brief pause, he snaps his fingers, and to your utter astonishment, a miniature, cherub-like version of himself appears and flitters towards you.

You’re too stunned at the sight to even consider pulling away, your jaw going slack as you watch the little creature land weightlessly on your arm and gently pat the blistering, reddening skin. A wave of green sparkly lights washes over your injury and the burns, along with the cherub, disappear.

A one word question echoes in your mind and you can’t help but speak it aloud in a strained, wavering voice.

“Magic…?”

Spamton dips his head in a nod. He holds up a hand, and the cherub reappears, perching on his finger and giving you a little wave. “YEP! JUST A [[ simple, one-stop solution ]] FOR [[ all your routine medical needs ]],” he says, dismissing the cherub with a wave of his hand. He hesitates, then steps towards you again. When you don’t flinch away, he closes the distance between you two, lightly touching your arm.

“NO MORE [[ It Burns! ]]?”

“U-Uhm,” you stammer. The way his voice sounds so pained when switching to the “It Burns” line is unnerving…you guess it’s just a soundbyte, that he’s not actually feeling the pain or distress the voice line suggests. His expression certainly seems to hold genuine concern, despite the semi-permanent smile. “Y-Yeah…I…” You glance down at his hand on your arm.

He really did heal it. Just like that. The pain and blistering just…gone in an instant. You’d guess you were dreaming, but…there’s no way you’d sleep through such intense pain, imagined or not.

“You…do magic,” you say weakly. The laugh you let out borders on manic. “I mean sure, why wouldn’t you do magic?”

Either he doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it, for he takes a step back, grinning and puffing out his chest. “WHY NOT INDEED? SPAM SPAMTON G. SPAMTON [[ #1 Rated Salesman 1997 ]] IS A MAN OF [[ dozens of unique skills ]]!” he declares.

“S-Spamton? That’s…your name?” you ask.

He grins, pointing at you while a DING DING DING chime plays, his glasses lenses switching colors on every beat. “AND [[ who do I have the pleasure of speaking to? ]]”

You tell him your name, still dazed.

He stays silent, canting his head and looking up at you uncertainly, seemingly waiting for you to recover.

“Wh-What are you?” you blurt abruptly.

Spamton blinks, but far from being offended at the question, he tosses his head back and lets out a hearty laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The cadence is a bit faster than a human would typically laugh, almost like the rapid fire of a machine gun…but as laughs go it’s far from unpleasant. “[[ Doll ]] I WAS JUST ABOUT TO [[ Ask Away! ]] YOU THE SAME THING!!”

You blink. “Um. I-I’m…a human. Surely…you’ve seen humans before?”

“OF COURSE!! [[ And don’t call me Shirly ]],” he quips. “BUT I’M NOT SEEING ANY [[ Heart-shaped Object ]].”

“H-Heart shaped object?” you repeat, absently rubbing at your chest. You assume he’s not talking about your actual heart.

“YOU’RE NO DARK >n3R…NOT A LIGHT >n3R EITHER?” he asks, canting his head curiously.

“I-I…I mean I guess not, not that…that I know of?” you say helplessly.

You’re a bit surprised he’s the one questioning you. It hadn’t occurred to you that he’d be just as confounded by his situation as you are.

“IS THIS THE DARK WORLD OR LIGHT WORLD?”

You stare blankly. “I…I don’t know? Neither, I…I think?”

“SO THEN…WH WHERE IN THE [[ Tri-County Area ]] AM I?”

You stammer a moment, not even sure what sort of answer he’d want for that. “M-My apartment?” you say inanely. At his deadpan, unimpressed look you tell him the name of your city, and when that doesn’t ring a bell, you add your state.

He frowns, tapping his chin with one hand.

“Where are you from, then?”

“CYBER CITY, IN THE DARK WORLD.”

“Doesn’t sound like any place near here…I-Is it…really an entirely different world?”

“[[ Survey Says: ]] YES.”

It’s as likely as anything else. Living puppet with healing magic…why not add world-hopping on top of that at this point?

“[[ You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? ]]”

“I…don’t know. I mean, I found you in a dumpster and brought you up here. I have no idea where you were before that…”

“BROUGHT ME [[ all the way up ]] HERE? WHY?”

“I um. Well,” you shift uncomfortably. “I…uh, thought you were a toy or puppet or something…”

“TOY NO, PUPPET YES,” he says. As he admits it, his glasses briefly go staticy and his smile fades, but he quickly shakes it off. “SO, DUMPSTER DIVING FOR [[ marketable goods ]], EH?” he chuckles.

“N-No! It was just--” You bite back your protest. You probably should have just said yes. It’s probably less silly than your real reason. At his expectant look, you feel your cheeks heat up. “I-I just…I like…fixing up old toys and it’s just…k-kinda…sad to see them get abandoned…and you just seemed too--” You cut yourself off again. You should have stopped a sentence or two ago, but once again Spamton is looking at you curiously and you feel compelled to complete your statement. “--F-Fancy…to just…be tossed in some landfill…”

You can see his eyes blink in surprise behind his glasses. His slightly open mouth closes with an audible clack and he chuckles. “WELL I AM A BIT OF A [[ Mr. Fancy-Pants ]]...OR AT LEAST I WAS,” he adds, his grin seeming to fade slightly.

A beat of silence passes as he seems to get lost in his own head for a moment, and you think you start to see bits of static appearing in his glasses. The corners of his mouth start to droop as his smile fades.

“W-Well, nothing a bit of mending won’t fix, right?” you say, assuming he’s only referring to his torn up suit and some of the scuffs on his face and hands.

Spamton snaps out of whatever trance he’s in, looking at you in confusion for a moment before his previous smile returns.

“...RIGHT. WELL, ANYWAY [[ doll ]], THANKS FOR THE [[ solid assist ]] BUT IT’S ABOUT TIME I [[ hit the road ]].”

You blink. “Um. What?”

He raises a brow. “[[ Hit the road ]], [[ Make like a tree and leaf ]], [[ head off into the sunset in your brand-new cungadero ]]?”

You can’t help but blurt out an incredulous, “To where?” Your cheeks warm and you glance away awkwardly, rubbing your arm. “I-I mean, n-not that it’s any of my business, but…a minute ago you didn’t even know what world you’re in…”

Spamton stares at you a moment before throwing his head back in another laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHA!!” You can’t help but notice the laugh seems a bit forced. “[[ Doll ]], DON’T YOU KNOW A TRUE [[ #1 Salesman 1997 ]] WILL [[ never give up, never surrender!! ]]?”

You finally manage to give a weak smile. “Well…that’s all well and good, but…do you even have a plan?”

“DO YOU?”

“Heh,” you chuckle nervously. “N-Not…a super long term one, but…I’d uh…I’d…feel bad sending you away like this…drenched and dirty with nowhere to go…”

His head tilts slightly to one side as he regards you. “WILLING TO MAKE A [[ Specil Deal ]], [[ doll ]]?”

You blink at his phrasing. “I…don’t know about a deal, but…I-I mean…you can…crash here for tonight? Get washed up, dry your clothes at least?”

“AND WHAT”S THE [[ payment method required ]]?”

“No payment!” you say quickly. “Just…”

“[[ Complimentary service ]]?”

You laugh slightly. “Exactly.”

He considers, rubbing his chin as he tries to figure out what possible catch there could be. Finally, he holds out a hand. “[[ Terms & Conditions Accepted !! ]]”

You let out a more earnest laugh, nodding. “Alright, Spamton,” you say, wrapping your hand around his and giving a hearty handshake.

Spamton steps back, glancing around at the mess you’d made. The pan had clattered to the floor, and there was a puddle of spilled water and a few stray noodles on the floor. Luckily dinner itself is salvageable--the majority of the noodles are still safely in the strainer in the sink.

“[[ Tired of cleaning up after dinner? Why not let -- ]] YOUR [[ good pal ]] SPAMTON TAKE CARE OF THAT?” he offers, going over to pick up the pan, handing it to you as you finally get to your feet.

“Thanks, but…�� You lift your gaze past him, seeing the muddy footprints he’s tracked into the kitchen. You smile weakly. “Maybe you should get yourself tidied up first? The bathroom’s just down the hall, I can finish up in here while you shower?”

He follows your gaze to the dirt he’s tracked into the kitchen, then smiles up at you sheepishly. “GOOD POINT. BUT WHY DON”T WE [[ get the best of both worlds ]]?” He snaps his fingers, and two cherubs appear. They smile cutely at you before one of them flies down to the ground to begin gathering the spilled noodles and the other pulls the towel off the oven handle and drapes it over the puddle.

“Heh…s-sounds good…” you say, once again caught off guard by his ability to just…manifest helpful little creatures.

The cherubs finish cleaning while you shake the last of the water from the pasta strainer, rinse out the pan, and start mixing the cheese in with the noodles.

They finish the cleanup before you finish the cooking, and all you have to do is open the cupboard so they can toss the floor noodles away.

“Um, thanks guys?” you say uncertainly.

Their little grins get even wider at your praise and they perch on the edge of the stove, watching you stir the noodles.

You notice they seem to be watching a bit…intently. Their heads bop slightly as they track the motion of the spoon, the reflective pink and yellow lenses on their glasses making it hard to read their expressions.

“Hey uh…m-maybe this is a weird question…” Though you wonder if anything’s a weird question when posed to a pair of tiny puppet cherubs summoned by a magic living puppet from another world. “D’you two…get hungry?”

Their attention perks to you so raptly that you have to assume the answer is a firm yes.

You chuckle weakly at that, scooping out a spoonful of noodles and blowing on it. “D’you like mac and cheese?”

They nod eagerly, making a squeaky trilling sound as they abruptly take off towards the spoon.

“H-Hey! Careful, it’s hot!” you say, holding up a hand to try to block them before they burn themselves.

Your attempt fails, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They dart around your hand and perch on either side of the spoon, greedily shoving the cheesy noodles into their mouths. If the heat is even remotely uncomfortable to them, they’re not showing any sign of it.

“Guess you were hungry…” you say, amused. You grab a piece of paper towel and wrap it around your finger, wiping the cheese from their faces. They make a faint sound of protest, the red on their cheeks growing a bit redder at your attention.

You set the spoon aside and turn the stove to low to keep the food warm. “I’d better check on Spamton,” you say to the cherubs.

As you walk down the hall to the bathroom, you hear the shower switch off and the door opens. A faint cloud of steam emerges, followed closely by Spamton.

One of your hand towels is wrapped around his waist and the other is around his shoulders. He’s using the corner of said towel to wipe the steam from his glasses lenses. Locks of damp hair fall across his forehead and cling to his neck and shoulders, a few droplets running down his bare chest.

His shoulders are wider than you’d expected--seems his blazer isn’t as padded as you’d assumed. His whole frame on the stocky side, and he has a slightly protruding gut that hadn’t really been noticeable under his blazer.

You wish you could blame the cloud of warm steam for your burning face.

“HEY [[ doll ]], WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE A [[ clean-pressed ]] [[ size L T-shirt ]] I COULD BORROW? MY BLAZER IS--” He places his glasses back on his face and cuts himself off when he notices you staring.

A beat of uncertain silence passes before you snap out of it. “Oh! U-U-Uh--Of course!” you squeak. “L-Let me just grab that for you!” you say quickly. You duck into your bedroom without waiting for a response, grabbing one of a large T-shirt and a pair of boxers. You’re not sure how well either will fit him, but you’ve got nothing better to offer right now.

When you get back to the bathroom, he’s standing on the counter in front of a portion of the mirror he’d wiped the fog from. He’s helped himself to one of your combs and is brushing his damp hair from his face.

You try not to look him in the eye--or anywhere else--as you pass him the clothing.

“THANKS, [[ doll ]]!” he says brightly.

You nod, mumbling some lame excuse about needing to check on the food before scurrying back to the kitchen.

When you get there, you see the cherubs have been busy. The table’s been set, and they’ve even taken a couple throw pillows from the couch and piled them on one of the chairs for Spamton. Glancing into the living room, you notice they even refolded the towel Spamton had been wrapped in.

“Oh, thanks guys!” you say, earning another set of happy squeaks from the little pair.

You busy yourself with dishing out the macaroni, and by the time you’re done, Spamton’s emerged from the bathroom.

The PJs you lent him are…suitable. They hang a bit awkwardly on him, but given how different your body shapes are it’s a miracle you had anything that was even remotely wearable for him.

“THANKS AGAIN FOR THE [[ brand-new threads ]] AND [[ hearty, nutritious dinner ]]!” he says, effortlessly hopping up onto the chair and taking his seat. He looks at the bowl of macaroni before him and hesitates, looking up at you uncertainly…perhaps even guiltily. “AND…YOU”RE SURE ALL THIS IS [[ complimentary service ]]?”

“Sure,” you say easily. “The little guys certainly seemed hungry…I’m…guessing you are too?”

Spamton gives the two cherubs--who are now sitting on the table between you two--a disapproving look. “MANNERS,” he says, pointing the spoon at them accusingly.

You laugh, waving a hand. “Oh no, they were very polite!” you say. A bit overeager, and a bit messy in their own eating, but in your mind all the extra cleaning they did more than makes up for it.

“GOOD,” he says, waving a hand. And with that, the two cherubs disappear, leaving only a few green sparkles in their wake.

“Oh…you didn’t have to send them away…” you say.

Spamton chuckles. “THEY WERE SLEEPY.”

You give a bemused laugh. “I…see. You’d know best I suppose,” you concede. “I’ve never even seen magic before today…”

He glances up in surprise. “NO? NOT EVER?”

“Not real magic, no. Not like…healing burns and conjuring cherubs,” you say.

“MINITONS,” he corrects.

“Pardon?”

“MINITONS. MINI SPAMTONS,” he clarifies with a playful smirk.

“Oh!” you laugh. “That’s…actually kinda cute,” you say.

Spamton gives you a wry look. “IT’S MEANT TO BE [[ concise and informative ]], NOT [[ adorable ]],” he says, though despite his look he sounds more amused than exasperated.

“It can be both,” you retort.

“IF YOU INSIST,” he says with a good natured eye roll.

The conversation ceases as he digs into his meal. His manners are much better than the Minitons of course, but he can’t completely hide the urgency with which he eats…though he does decline your offer of seconds, you sense it’s more out of a sense of guilt at how much you’ve given him than him actually being full.

And possibly being too tired to eat any more. Even with his glasses you can see his eyelids starting to droop by the time he drops his spoon into the empty bowl. But as soon as you get up and make as if to take the dishes to the sink, he snaps back to life.

“WAIT!!” he says, hopping up to stand on his chair, grabbing his bowl before reaching up and taking yours out of your hand. “SINCE YOU COOKED [[ delicis 5-Star meal ]] I’LL [[ cleans and polishes your dishes with a sparkling shine, guaranteed no food residue ]]!!” He grins up at you. “IT’S THE [[ bare minimum as required by law ]].” He blinks at the last part of the statement, his smile turning markedly sheepish. Apparently those little phrases don’t always come out sounding quiiiiite how he wants.

You take it in stride, laughing. “It’s alright, Spamton, really.”

“I INSIST!” he insists, hopping down from his chair and pushing it towards the sink.

“W-Well…I suppose it’s fair…I’ll get the couch set up for you, then,” you say, assuming he’ll want to turn in for the night after he finishes the dishes.

Spamton isn’t sure why you’re so keen on helping him, but…he also can’t afford to say no. He assumes he’ll be on his way tomorrow…even though he still doesn’t have an answer to the question you posed earlier.

To where?

He has no idea how to get back to the Dark World, and he gets the feeling he’s not exactly going to fit seamlessly into this one.

If he were more awake, anxiety would be gnawing at him, but even his anxieties are too tired for that right now.

He finishes the dishes, and despite his fatigue he does get them spotless as promised.

He hops down from the chair, forgetting to push it back to the table, and trudges tiredly into the living room.

Spamton stops, staring in surprise at what he sees.

Apparently your couch has a pullout bed, which you’ve set up with two blankets and a couple plush pillows, despite the fact that the couch itself had been more than big enough for him to sleep on. Hell, he could have scraped by with just one of those pillows to curl up on for the night.

“ALL THIS FOR [[ lil’ ol’ me ]]?” he asks, stunned as you finish fluffing the second pillow and toss it into place.

You shrug. “Sure, why not? I got a pullout couch for a reason,” you say. “Besides, the cushions were still damp, and the mattress is a bit more comfortable, I think.”

Spamton looks up at you uncertainly, his mouth opening and closing a couple times. Insisting that the couch is fine would only mean you having to re-fold the pullout bed. He runs a hand over the soft blankets, far cleaner and softer than any bedding he’s had in a long time. “[[ …thank you… ]]”

Your cheeks warm at the quiet sincerity in his tone. “No problem, Spamton…” you say softly. “I-I’ll um…see you in the morning, then?”

He hops onto the bed, scooting to the pillow and pulling the blanket back. “YES. OF COURSE, [[ doll ]].”

You nod, readily giving him his space and heading to your own room and climbing into your own bed.

You’d said he could stay for the night, but in reality, you have the same doubts Spamton does…and if anything, you have a more realistic idea of how unrealistic it is for him to just…leave and make his way in the world.

A conversation to have over breakfast, you suppose.

#spamton #spamton x reader #deltarune x reader #x reader #my writing

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hey-its-roseaurum · 10 months ago

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Guilty until Proven Innocent-Part I

A/N: Hey everyone. Thank you for taking the time to look at this story. This is for a collaboration with @lainiespicewrites. She is an excellent writer and I figured it was my turn to stretch my writing muscles and put something out into the world. This is my first Henry Cavill fic, so please don't be too harsh. Anyways, enjoy!

Synopsis: After recent murders in town, You (Olivia) decide to train with Edith in the art of self-defense. In the middle of training, you got a mysterious knock on the door. Sherlock walks in, looking for assistance with his latest case. He offers you to partake in a partnership to help him in his latest case? Do you take it?

Warnings: mentions of death

“You’re progressing nicely Olivia.” Edith smiled from above me, her elbow pinning me to the floor mat. There wasn’t a hint of sweat along her forehead. She had taken me down in less than a minute. The worst part was I thought I was going to land a hit on her this time.

”I’m beginning to think that you’re just saying that to soothe my pride”. I rasped out. She had eased her hold on me and stood up, extending a hand.

”Nonsense. Look how far you’ve come since you first stepped in these doors. Pretty soon you’ll be able to hold your ground with me.” She exclaimed as I grabbed her hand and hoisted myself up. My back had long since started throbbing.

For the past few weeks, I have been meeting Edith at her office to train and learn self-defense. Ever since the first girl went missing and was later found dead in the street I hadn’t been able to sleep soundly. There were constant, nagging thoughts that made me question if I was going to be the next victim. It had only gotten worse when they found the next girl a week later in the middle of an alleyway that I frequently visited. Her throat had been cut.

In London, it was ill-advised for a woman, especially of noble birth, to consider something as trivial as self-defense. Women are supposed to be soft, elegant, and passive. All of the trouble and responsibility in making decisions was for the men.

Being passive and soft didn’t save those girls from their cruel end.

And I wasn’t going to let myself become like them. I refuse to be the next girl that falls victim to this. So I went to my dear friend Enola at her detective agency and inquired about a solution to my predicament. She sent me over to Edith and had me start training the next day. I’ve been training every day since then.

I’m still not really good at it.

”Did you say the same thing when you were teaching Enola?” I inquired as I dusted myself off. Edith only shook her head.

”Not exactly. Her response was more witty, thanks to her mother.” Eudoria Holmes, the mother, the fire starter as people liked to call her. I’ve seen her wanted poster splayed all across London. But I didn’t see her as a criminal. I saw her as the woman who saved my life six months ago.

That morning had been cold and bitter. I remember feeling my fingers grow numb while I huddled against a mailbox. Its red paint had chipped away at its base, leaving rust behind.

Which was ironic and poetic now that I think back on it. And let me explain why.

It all started when my father had recently passed from a sickness that left my mother and me penniless. With no man in the house and no money to our name, we were cast out of society. My mother and I were thrown out and the estate that I called my home. It was sold to another noble family in the south.

We lived off the street after that. My mother, using what knowledge she had of needlework, had acquired a job as an assisted seamstress. I was left to salvage whatever pity people gave me and half-rotten food from dumpsters.

Eventually, we were able to afford a small cottage on the outskirts of town. It was small, run-down, and often had a damp smell to it. Mother didn’t like to be there for a long period. She claimed it was because she was so busy with her duties to the seamstress that she didn’t have time to spend there. I think it was because she missed her life at the estate and living in this small broken cottage was too much for her to bear.

That morning six months ago I decided to go into town to fill my water bucket and get bread before it got too crowded. When I got there, I sat down by the mailbox to wait for the bakery to open. I was particularly annoyed when I saw a lot of people around this early in the morning.

I was watching a man get onto a carriage when something shifted from the corner of my eye. It had been a man, or what I thought was a man walking towards me with a package in their hand. When we made eye contact I didn’t think anything of it. I just watched them and noted how stiff they walked. They placed the package in the slot of the mailbox. Before I knew it, I was grabbed by the elbow, hoisted upright, and pulled away from the mailbox.

That mailbox exploded, releasing a whirlwind of fliers into the air.

The two of us had run from the police. I was forced to since they refused to let go of my hand. We ran until this stranger knew that they weren't being followed.

When things settled down, the man revealed that they were a woman in disguise. She introduced herself as Eudoria Holmes and then proceeded to lecture me about being near explosives as if she were my own mother. All I had wanted to do was bite back, to lecture her on how she shouldn’t be putting explosives where there were people.

Instead, I broke down, not from her lecturing but because of something I couldn’t quite place. All I knew was that I was waiting for a soggy piece of bread and nearly got blown up.

In the end, I told her everything. I told her my past, my current situation, and why I was even in town in the first place. One thing kind of led to another. The next thing I knew I was sitting in Eudoria’s house with a cup of tea in my hand.

I stayed in that damp cottage less and less as time passed and more at Eudoria’s warm, often chaotic home. That’s where I became friends with Enola, had briefly met her two brothers Sherlock and Mycroft, and felt somewhat happy.

I don’t know why she pulled me away from that mailbox. The one time I asked her she said she saw something in me, some sort of fire in my eye. She didn’t want it to go out along with the mailbox.

I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t tell that to her.

“So what you’re trying to say is that I still have a long way to go,” I asked as my brain jumped back to the present. I stepped away from the mat and made my way into her office.

”What I’m saying is you’re doing better than you think you are. You just began learning. Give yourself a little credit.” Following me, she made her way to the table by the window. A stack of teacups were messily stacked up to one side. She grabbed two, placed them on saucers, and poured liquid into both.

“I know. I’m just…worried. It’s been a week since the last victim was found and the police still haven’t found the suspect.” I let out a sigh and sipped some of my tea. I needed a moment to choose my words carefully. “I just want to be…prepared.”

A heavy pause filled the air before either of us spoke.

”Olivia…there’s more to that, isn’t there?” Edith’s words were soft and gentle.

“I mean I-“. My response was sharply cut short.

A knock pulled our attention away from our conversation and to the door. A tall man entered from the training room and to Edith’s office. I couldn’t place if he looked tall because of his size, or because of the giant top hat sitting snugly on top of his head. Dark wavy strands of hair peaked through from under his hat.

”Have you any sense what time it is?” Edith interrogated, crossing her arms. The man took off his hat, revealing thick brown locks. His sculpted jawline and nose complimented the hair. Blue, mesmerizing eyes glanced around, investigating.

But the feature that I recognized right away from him was his shoulders. I knew those shoulders.

”Hello, Edith” His attention briefly shot to me “Olivia” I curtly nodded, averting my eyes.

”Good evening Mr. Holmes.” I responded softly. “With what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. One of Enola’s older brothers. One of the greatest detectives I’ve ever seen.

”There’s no need for formalities Olivia.” I felt something warm begin to grow on my cheeks at his response. He’s only being polite Olivia. We are only acquaintances because of Enola and Eudoria. He doesn’t like you like that.

Or does he?

I’m not sure.

Sherlock Holmes is a difficult man to understand.

“What are you here for Sherlock?” Edith asked again, harsher this time. Her tone quickly pulled me back to the present and away from my thoughts.

Sherlock cleared his throat, his blue eyes revealing some sort of inner turmoil within himself. It was an unusual amount of emotion that I was not used to seeing. I expected it with Mycroft, he practically wore his emotions on his face at all times. Sherlock never did. He’s always been composed, and proper. Before me now he still was, but a layer of some sort had been chipped away.

”I….need your help.” He struggled to say the words like it was almost painful to him. A moment of silence clung in the air.

”Is it about Enola? Did she get herself into trouble?” There was a hint of concern in Edith’s voice when she begged the questions. The only response he gave was a small shake of his head. I watched as realization flashed on her face.

”There’s something about this case-“.

”That deduction cannot solve?” Edith finished his thought. He slightly nodded, setting his hat down on her desk. That was my cue. I softly placed my teacup down and made my way to the table by the window. I began making some tea for Sherlock while listening to the conversation.

”I may need your…skills to get information from a place I cannot enter.”

“What kind of place?” He listed off a name that I didn’t recognize. Edith’s face slightly reddened.

”A showgirl theatre?! You cannot ask me such a thing Sherlock, no matter how close we are.” My eyebrows raised as I grabbed a cup and saucer and poured some tea into the cup.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have another option. A woman’s life is at stake.” His tone was calm, but there was something else there.

”But going into this with the possibility of getting murdered is not something I’m comfortable with. Woman’s freedom and rights is one thing, going after a serial killer is a whole other matter entirely”

”Edith, I-“. I cut them off.

”I’ll do it. I’ll go instead of you.” In their arguing, I had made my way back to the two of them, Sherlock's tea in hand. I had left mine behind.

”Olivia, do you know what kind of place that is, what situations you can get into. You’re nowhere near ready to hold your ground”. What she said was like a punch to the gut.

I knew I wasn’t ready, we had that same conversation not thirty minutes ago. But I knew that if Edith went and something bad had happened to her Enola and Eudoria would be devastated. I was different. If I went and something happened to me, Edith would still be here training more girls like me.

”Who else is going to do it? Enola? She’s not expendable. I am. And Edith, what about the other girls you train?” I took a breath, the stubbornness in me growing. “Besides, I know these streets better than anyone. I’ve lived in them. I know where to go in case I’m being followed. And because of the way I look,”. I paused briefly looking down at myself, at my curvy, plump figure. “No one would suspect me. They would just see me as a showgirl trying to make ends meet. I can blend in, go undercover, and get the information that he needs in order to catch this murderer.”

A heavy pause hung between the three of us.

I let what I said sink into the two of them. I know that Edith is fighting with herself on whether she can let me go. She believes that I am her responsibility, and I kind of was while Eudoria was undercover. But since starting to learn to defend myself I told myself that I couldn’t sit and wait. Sitting and worrying about who the next victim is going to drive me crazy. If I can help and make a difference, then maybe the suspect will be caught before there’s more tragedy.

”I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to her.” Sherlock’s voice broke the silence and my inner thoughts. “You have my word.” His eyes met mine at his. I felt something else there besides the promise. Edith sighed, rubbing her temples with both her index fingers.

“Okay, Sherlock. Just…make sure she comes back in one piece.” Edith finally concurred. “You’re going to have to speak to your mother if you don’t.”

A smile tugged at my lips at the agreement. I finally raised the cup of tea, offering it to him.

”When do we start?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. If you want to read @lainiespicewrites story about Paul Atreides from the Dune Sage, here is her link: https://www.tumblr.com/lainiespicewrites/747032352877903872/the-atreides-era?source=share

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websterss · 2 years ago

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THE STRAY FROM ARIF'S — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

SUMMARY: You have a hard time listening to Lockwood, especially when he tells you not to do things. It only makes you want to do them more...like bringing a stray home.

WARNING(S): fluff

WORD COUNT: 1,480

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You hadn’t planned on bringing him home when you saw his cute little eyes glance up at you. You had a leftover doughnut in your bag that you pulled out and fed to the poor thing. Knowing it must’ve been days since it had eaten properly. You kept watching your six, looking for the tall brunette who repeatedly told you to stay far away from the creature before you. There was Mrs. Wick to consider though, when she took in a stray cat that took shelter in her home. She often called about some form of screaming in her attic, but after you had checked it out with Lockwood once, it only appeared to be a cat. A harmless one at that, which she adopted. Now you were sitting in the kitchen feeling like a little kid hiding a big secret, and you didn’t exactly feel like getting scolded by your parents. Well, rather Lockwood in this case.

“What’s with the eye exchanging? What aren’t you telling me?” He gazed back and forth between the three of you. Then his eyes fell upon your figure trying to hide itself by sliding down your chair. “Y/n...” He eyed you warningly.

“R-Remember that dog. The one that loiters behind the dumpster of Arif’s?” You grimace seeing his eyebrows almost touch together. His eyes closing, not wanting the next predictable words to escape past your lips. He pinches the bridge of his nose, slouching back in his chair.

“The stray...” He sighs, then sits up straight. His hands gestured towards you as he said. “…I tell you not to feed because it will follow you home?” He didn’t even need you to verbally say it. The cheesed smile you cast at him causes his face to fall onto the tabletop. The loud thud causes George and Lucy to stifle out a laugh. You wince as he lets out a disgruntled groan. “Don’t tell me. Please don’t say it...”

“It followed-” You begin.

“It followed you home, wonderful!” He lifts his head back up. “You specifically did that one thing- one thing I tell you not to.” He chews on his bottom lip contemplating his own death or rather yours. His left eye twitched. You shrink in your chair scared he’d reach across and strangle you.

“It was hungry!” You turn your palms face up. You shrug in your defense.

“It’s a stray, Y/n. Of course it’s hungry. It lives on the street!” He emphasized.

“Not anymore!” You boast, sticking a finger in his face. You rise from your seat.

“What?!”

“What?” You looked around to the others. “Did you hear something Lucy?” You scratch the back of your head. Avoiding his perplexed expression.

“Come again...” He scoffs out a laugh. You hum, chewing on your bottom lip as you face him confused. “You just said-”

“I have said nothing. You’re delusional. Are you feeling okay? Wake up on the wrong side of bed this morning?” You reach across the table to touch his forehead. “You are a little warm-” You barely touch his skin before he smacks your hand away. You flinch away trying to stifle your laughter.

“- that it no longer lives on the street. Implying that it’s no longer on the street.” Dread washes over his face. He slowly stands to his full height. “You haven’t. You didn’t...” Your eyes widened, trying to look at Lucy and George, who did not appear to have your back at this very moment. You cursed.

“Shit...”

“You brought it home didn’t you? Where is it?” He starts letting his eyes wander across the room. He moves around towards the door only to have you block it.

“Where’s what?” You shrug.

“I told you there was to be no animals in this house. They’re messy, and loud, and you have to clean up after them. This is a business, hardly a place for a dog!” He listed off.

“Then there’s the door.” You smile at him. You hold back your laughter watching him gape at you, offended. “I’m sorry.” You chuckle, hand over your mouth.

He pushes past you. His coat that he had on swaying with his movement.

“Where is it?” He repeats, looking through all the rooms, under furniture, and throws back throw blankets. You don’t follow him as he walks up the stairs onto the second landing. When he descends, he catches you standing in front of the kitchen door. There was only one place that he had yet to check. Your pleading look gives him the answer that he needs. He pushes past you, as you begin to pull against his arms.

“No, no. Anthony please. Please, he’s been well behaved. Hardly a peep from him. I-I taught him to sit!” You revel in your success, but your smile falls as he scoffs.

“Did you teach him how to pay the gas bill? Perhaps the phone bill too? No? Thought so!” He throws open the basement’s door and walks down the steps with a hurried pace. As soon as his feet touch the floor, a loud bark is immediately heard. The poor dog is tied up. Though the wag of its tail displays his excitement. You run over to it, scratching its fur behind its ears. You chuckle as it licks a stripe on the side of your face.

Lockwood stands there, hands at his hips. “No, no, no-” He begins.

“You haven’t even given it a chance.”

“I don’t need to give it a chance. My answer is still no. We can’t afford a dog, Y/n. We barely make enough to cover the expenses. We can’t keep him.” He reminds you. Your heart sinks, but he was indeed correct. The jobs you received were enough to keep the roof over your heads, but to add on additional fees for a dog. There’d be other things to pay for, to be cautious of. You four were hardly ever home to begin with. “He can’t stay.” He walks over and crouches down to pet him. He smiles nonetheless as the dog licks his hands. “You’re cute...but you must go. We don’t have the room for a fury friend.” He coos at it. You look at him through your eyelashes. Your doe eyes relaxed and softened, as you cast a faint knowing smile his way. Lockwood catches you, and starts shaking his head. “No. Do not give me that look.”

“What look? There’s no look.” You deny with a coy smile.

“Yes. There is. You’re doing it right now, and it’s not going to work this time.” He side eyed you.

“It’s worked before.”

“Because I allowed you to have that leverage over me. This time is different. There’s a living breathing animal involved.”

“You’re gonna cave.” You say confidently.

“No, I’m not.” He turns his head to meet your eyes.

“Yes, you are...” You lean in and capture his lips with your own. You pull back, tugging his tie slowly, knowing he’d chase after them to get in another kiss.

He really hated the power you held over him. One plea, beg, need, want, he was on his knees ready to give you the entire world. You were Lockwood’s entire world. He just didn’t think that your whole world was the mangy mutt that was disrupting his blissful sleep. Lockwood had made him take the blanket you had laid out for him on the floor, but after you had bathed him and brushed his fur. He had wiggled his way between your bodies. Now Lockwood was left staring at the mutts head lulled back onto your pillows, snoring.

He didn’t even know dogs could snore. Yet as he casted his eyes onto your sleeping form. He couldn’t help but accept his faith. He moved the dog, slowly to the foot of the bed. Then slid towards the middle, pulling you into his arms. You sighed as you relaxed against his touch. Still sound asleep. The whine of the dog, had him lifting his head to look at him.

“What?” He asked it, as if he was going to respond back. “Your beds down there...” He gestured with his head. “No...What is it? You need to be let out?” The dog was up in an instant. Anthony let his head fall back onto his pillow. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before getting up, slipping on his slippers, and grabbing his gray zip up. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” He opened the door and followed the dog out. Once his footsteps could no longer be heard. You peek one eye opening, a megawatt smile falls on your face as you nestled deeper into the covers. Sleep overcoming your body with a clear conscience of your victory. Anthony was already growing attached to the new addition whether he wanted to believe it or not.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #my gif #writings by juls #writings by juls: anthony lockwood

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acidxinxwonderland · 2 years ago

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Resurgence

Chapter one: Renewal

18 plus!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x F!Reader

Summary: You live a stressful life to say the least, working two jobs and going to college is no easy task. You find it hard maintaining many things, such as friendships, your home and most importantly yourself. Yet after finding boxes full of parts for an animatronic near a dumpster, you do everything in your power to restore him. Little did you know that he was going to change your life for the better.

Tags: Female Reader, No use of y/n, Size Difference, Size Kink, Robot/Human Relationships, Dominant Glamrock Freddy, Submissive Reader, Touch-Starved, Reader is a hot mess, nicotine addiction, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn-ish, Build a penis, Readers parents have passed away

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Excited to post the first chapter for this! I've been putting some effort in this one so I really hope you enjoy it! <333

AO3 link

Chapter 2

Six months.

To you it feels like it was just yesterday when you found him. Six months ago you were heading out to the bar with your friends when you stumbled upon boxes full of parts, parts that belonged to a Freddy Fazbear animatronic from the Mega Pizzaplex that tragically collapsed not too long ago.

As soon as you found those boxes that night you forgot all about the bar, instead making your friends carry it all the way back to your house where you would immediately get to work. It was safe to say your small group of friends were very displeased with you.

Six months of rewiring, welding, programming, repainting, you name it. You can’t even count the all-nighters while juggling two jobs and taking college classes in the mornings. All of this to work on a single animatronic, an animatronic that failed to work countless of times.

Yet tonight you had a good feeling. You've convinced yourself this was it, that all the work you did would finally come together. This was the night you turned something from scrap into a proper working model.

You can see it now, you’d be the talk of the class, you’ll probably make the news for doing this! All the frustration, all the tears, it was worth it. Especially with the fact that you were able to recover most of his highly advanced AI, something the Mega Pizzaplex was well known for.

You sit at your desk in the middle of the night, the large animatronic bear laid upon a metal table in your garage, wires hooked up to your computer as you type commands with quick fingers on your keyboard, a cigarette dangling loosely from your lips.

You glance over at Freddy, admiring your handiwork with an anxious gaze. Adorned in a glossy metal casing with intricate vibrant blue designs you hand painted yourself, he looks exactly like his old self.

You take in a slow breath as you switch your gaze over to your computer, you fixate on the startup command, rereading it over and over to make sure you spelled everything right.

“Here goes nothing.” You murmur as you press the enter key on your keyboard.

You roll your chair back, turning it towards Freddy with bated breath as everything slowly begins to power on, this seems promising, considering the fact the entire house hasn’t lost power yet.

You hear the sounds of machinery humming to life as the seconds passed, smoke beginning to plume from his open mouth. You sit up in your chair, snubbing the cigarette in the ashtray beside you while you avidly wait to see what happens.

Freddy’s eyelids were the first to slide open, a vibrant blue glow pouring out of his optics. Then with the sound of motorized joints snapping to life Freddy abruptly sits up on the metal table, he appears panicked as he looks around in frantic motions. You are too shocked to say anything as he looks down at himself, letting out a disgruntled groan before ripping the wires out from his ports which causes sparks to fly.

He gets off the table and you are thoroughly reminded just how big he is. His eyes finally locked onto yours, his gaze was full of bewilderment and something else that makes you want to run away.

“Where am I? This is not the Mega Pizzaplex.” He held a strong, thunderous voice that reverberated throughout the garage.

Your eyes widen at the question, not expecting for him to be almost hostile right off the bat. Your heart begins to pound in your chest, reaching your ears as you stare up at him in both pride and a twinge of fear.

It takes you a moment but you finally find your voice, uttering out your words. “You’re um, you’re in my house! I just repaired you, you are safe from any harm.”

Freddy looks tense, well, as tense as one could look for being a robot. His expression softened yet the confusion remains palpable. “Repaired me… I was offline?”

You slowly nod your head. “Yes, I found you near a dumpster not too long ago and I took you back home with me.”

“I see.” He looks back down at you with sorrow in his voice. “I do not remember getting shut down… Have they replaced me with a new model?”

“Do you… Not remember anything?” You ask your question carefully and he shakes his head. Damn, you were really looking forward to knowing what happened to the Pizzaplex.

“Well, the Mega Pizzaplex collapsed around seven months ago. I found you a month later sitting near a dumpster, took you home and…” You gesture to the area around you. “Here you are now.”

Freddy was silent, you can see the literal gears turning in his head as he processed the information you just gave him.

“This can’t be. There is something wrong, it feels as though something is missing in my memory storage.” He places a paw-like hand on his head, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah, your memory was pretty corrupt when I started my repairs on you. I got most of it recovered but I had to give up on some of it. I still plan on trying to fix it but I focused more on getting you back in working order first.”

His hands fall to his sides, giving a nod of his head. “I understand, the fact you were able to recover most of it is fantastic.” He takes a step closer to you, speaking in a more tentative tone. “I apologize, I have been rather rude haven’t I? I’d like to thank you for bringing me back online. I am very grateful.”

You wave your hand. “Don’t worry about it, I get it. I would be pretty freaked out too.” Yet that was because you are human, never in a million years did you expect such a reaction coming from him.

“Yes, ‘freaked out’ is the perfect description isn’t it?” His ears droop down, a mix of melancholy and gratitude evident on his features. “The Pizzaplex… it is gone. What is to become of me? What purpose do I have now?” A hint of uncertainty colored his words, seemingly hoping to get some guidance from you.

Your face softened, it was clear he was uneasy with this entire situation. The Mega Pizzaplex was once a beacon of joy and entertainment has met its demise. Now here he is, standing in your garage, given a chance at a new life.

Finally, you answer him, offering him a smile of kindness and understanding. “Sometimes you don’t really need a purpose, or a duty to fulfill.” You lean back in your chair, shrugging your shoulders. “I mean, you’re pretty much free now. I’m sure you’ve never seen the outside world once in your entire ‘life’. That makes it not sound too bad, right?”

His eyes flicker with apprehension while mulling over your words. It was clear the concept of freedom was completely foreign to him, which of course, was understandable.

“You’re right, that doesn’t sound too bad at all. The thought of experiencing new things… It is rather intriguing. And having you by my side,” He comes in closer, a soft look on his face. “Well, that would make it all the more exciting.”

As soon as Freddy got a bit too close for comfort you rolled your chair back. You feel nervous but you're also astonished, you can't believe you actually pulled this off, he was really here.

"Well, I'll be here every step of the way." You force a tight smile. He takes notice of your discomfort, taking a step back and making you realize you have been holding your breath this entire time.

“That sounds like a plan! We’re going to be a great team, you and I.” Freddy now seems more relaxed as he looks around your messy garage full of parts and trash. “Is this all to your home?”

You let out a laugh from his question, standing up from your chair. “No, no this is just my garage.”

“Oh! Yes, I see. A garage, a building for housing motor vehicles! But… I do not see a motor vehicle here.”

“It’s outside in the driveway. I use this as an office, robotics, school work, all that jazz.”

“An interesting place to choose as your workplace! I see that it is quite… cluttered.”

“Wait till you see the rest of the house bud.” You let out a chuckle. “Follow me.” You lead him to the door that leads outside, opening it up and taking a step out.

“That sounds a little concerning.” He murmurs cautiously while following after you.

As soon as he walks out of your garage he stops in place once he sees the blanket of twinkling stars above him. “Oh… Wow.” He holds a soft tone full of genuine wonderment as his eyes widen.

You watch his reaction, feeling a flutter in your chest as you see a machine experience a true night sky for the first time. You still can’t believe you really did it, he was here and he appears so life-like- almost as if he has real emotions.

Yet… That wasn't possible.

Just as you started to really think about it all you were immediately captivated by glowing blue optics looking down at you.

“This is incredible.” He remarks. “A glimpse into something absolutely extraordinary. All thanks to you, superstar.”

Your heart skips a beat. Superstar… It sounds comforting coming from him with his honeyed voice.

After a few moments pass you realize the two of you have just been staring at each other in silence. You clear your throat, offering him a smile.

“Of course big guy.” You place your hands in your pocket to keep them warm from the cool night air, looking back up at the sky with him. “Welcome to the real world.”

The two of you stand there in silence, the ethereal beauty of the stars capturing your attention and filling you both with a sense of tranquility. The sounds of the crickets and frogs, the branches of the large trees surrounding your small home moving with the light breeze.

Although it was all starting to feel a bit strange, you have someone-or something-by your side now. As a person who usually lives on your own, you finally realize that this was going to take some getting used too. He was a lot more lively then you thought he’d be.

Freddy is the first to break his trance, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “How about we head inside now? I am eager to see your home.”

You snort, walking away from the garage and towards the front porch. “There’s nothing to be eager about but… It’s home.” As you go up the steps and to the front door you begin to feel a bit nervous, you never thought you’d be embarrassed to show your living space to a robot.

“It can’t be that bad.” He speaks in a cheerful tone as you open the door, taking a step inside with him. “Oh… Oh my.”

You feel your face heat up as the two of you look around your home. It was cluttered as cluttered could be, the kitchen and living room merged seamlessly creating an open area of utter chaos. An array of dirty dishes and utensils stacked up together from countless culinary endeavors, the smell of forgotten meals and cigarettes intermingling in the air.

Your living room was no better. Scattered papers, cigarette butts and empty bottles of beer haphazardly placed about on the floor and coffee table. The nicest thing there was the sofa, mostly because you got it not too long ago on a good sale.

There was a long silence that passed between the two of you. He was the first one to break it.

“This isn’t like the Pizzaplex at all.” He looks over at you and you give him an apologetic smile. “But… It has some charm to it.”

You let out a surprised, short laugh, raising a brow. “Yeah? How so?”

“Well, the one thing I know is that a home is a reflection of oneself.”

“What does mine say about me?”

He inspects his surroundings more before giving you his answer. “It appears that you lead a very busy lifestyle, or that you greatly struggle with caring for yourself.” Freddy’s tone was analytical, tilting his head to the side. “Is that right?”

“Yup, spot on for both.” You make your way to the couch, falling down onto it and stretching your arms up into the air. “Two jobs, school, it’s not really easy maintaining a home.. Or myself.”

“That does sound like quite a lot on your plate.” He takes his place near the couch, his hands behind his back as he continues to observe your home. “Perhaps I could be of assistance to you.”

“Of assistance to me…?” You repeat his words slowly. He gives a short nod of his head.

“Yes. You have brought me back online, the least I can do is help you around the house. Cooking, cleaning, helping with school work. Whatever you need.”

You’re a bit taken aback by this offer, you had no idea you have quite literally built your own assistant. It sounds like a sweet deal, you’ve never had anyone willing to help you like this but at the same time you feel a tug at your heart.

“Um… Well, that sounds nice and all but you don’t owe me anything, really. I just wanted to see if I could do it, show off to my professor and…” You trail off, realizing how much you didn’t think about what happens after you built him.

“I insist. I want to do this, eager even. It will be a great help for me when it comes to adjusting to this new life, at the Mega Pizzaplex I always had something to do. Knowing that I no longer have that,” He casts his gaze to the side before continuing. “It feels as though there is something wrong within my coding.”

You run a hand through your hair as you process what he was saying, searching his face. You let out a long sigh, finally giving your answer.

“Yeah, alright. If you’re cool with it, I would really like that.”

Freddy clasps his hands together, taking on a cheerful demeanor. “It is very cool with me, superstar! This is the start to something wonderful, I just know it. Let’s get started now, tell me, when was the last time you’ve eaten today?”

“Um… Never o’clock?” You answer with a sheepish smile.

He looks confused at first, squinting his eyes before they widen once the realization sets in. “Are you meaning to tell me that you have eaten nothing today?”

“That is not good, do you not know how important it is to have proper meals throughout the day?” Freddy shakes his head as he reprimands you, turning around and going to the kitchen to begin to find you something to eat.

“Well yeah, it was my last day off and I wanted to finish working on you. It kinda slipped my mind.”

“Well yeah, of course I do. Like I said, I just didn’t really think about it.” You get up from the couch to follow after him, taking a seat at the table full of old letters and trash.

“I see that my work is cut out for me, hm?” His tone was playful as he opened the fridge.

You feel your face heat up from his teasing, grumbling underneath your breath as you take your cigarette pack from your pocket to have a quick smoke.

“You do not have much to eat…” He murmurs as he closes the fridge to go open a cupboard. “Hm… Well, it is not the most nutritious of meals, but I could make you macaroni and cheese.”

Your eyes light up from his words, recently it’s all been instant ramen noodles, mac and cheese sounds perfect right now. “Yeah! That sounds good.” You light the end of your cigarette, leaning back in your seat as you watch Freddy get to work.

Your brows furrow as you blow smoke out from your mouth. “Actually wait… You do know how to cook, right?”

“Of course I do! Back at the Mega Pizzaplex it was a common activity to bake or cook with children, I have plenty of recipes and have the capability to learn more. It was one of my favorite things to do, although it was not too often. Chica was the one to always be the leader of those little ‘classes’.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool honestly.” You watch as he goes to the sink, taking one of the least dirtiest pots and beginning to wash it out. It was interesting to see an animatronic bear doing such a mundane chore.

You let out a small hum before drawing on the end of your cigarette. “So… Do you really not remember anything of what happened before? Like… How the Plex collapsed and what not?”

Freddy stills for a moment, trying his best to remember what happened but he mimics the sound of a sigh and continues his task.

“Unfortunately, my memory prior to being decommissioned is fragmented at best. I recollect my performances and entertaining children but as for the details of its closure, it remains a mystery to me. I apologize.”

A guilty frown tugs at the corners of your lips as he finishes washing the pot and filling it up, moving to the stove to boil it.

“There’s no need to be sorry. I wasn’t expecting you would, I guess what you lost was the night of you getting.. Destroyed. I’ll figure it out in due time, it would be nice to know what actually happened.” You stub your cigarette out on the ashtray, leaning your head on your hand as you continue to watch him work away.

“What do you mean by that? Does no one know what has caused the Mega Pizzaplex to collapse?” He turns his body towards you with a curious glint in his eyes.

You shake your head. “Nope. They tried saying it was from an earthquake but no one believes it, considering the fact no one living near the Pizzaplex felt one big enough to mess up an entire building.”

“I… See, that is quite strange. Well, if there is any chance of recovering those lost memories and shed some light on what truly transpired, I am very eager to explore it alongside you.” His gaze was filled with unwavering dedication.

You feel a small amount of excitement from his words, you were pretty eager too if you were being honest with yourself. “Yes, we’ll figure it out. Maybe. If we don't, oh well, y’know? You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

You lean back in your chair, looking the bear up and down as excitement bubbles up once again. “I’m more than happy with the progress I’ve made today. You’re working, talking! After all these months you’re finally here.”

Freddy lets out a soft chuckle as he goes back to the stove to put the pasta in the water. “I am continuously impressed by your talent. You have proven yourself to be quite the extraordinary individual.” He looks back at you as he speaks. “You bringing me back is very impressive, you should be proud of yourself for doing such a hard task.”

Your eyes widen as you are showered with praise, feeling your breath hitch in your throat. You aren’t very used to such compliments.

You clear your throat, beginning to play with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Well, um, thank you Freddy.” Your eyes fall onto his hand while he stirs the cooking pasta. “That’s… That’s really sweet of you. I’m glad you think that way.”

He picks up on your timid behavior, looking back at what he was doing while he replies to you in a mellow tone. “You deserve every word of praise.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence afterwards, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by it all once again. Two years of living completely alone and now you have a roommate, who was a giant animatronic bear that you just met and he is already cooking for you. This was insane.

After some time there was a bowl of mac and cheese set in front of you. You watch the steam emit from it as you feel your stomach growl, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until now.

“Thank you so much.” You murmur out appreciatively, picking up the spoon and popping it in your mouth. Your eyes widen, looking up at the bear who has a satisfied look on his features. This didn’t even taste like box mac and cheese… How does one make boxed mac and cheese taste so good?!

You swallow your food before praising him. “God Freddy, what did you do while I looked away? This is great!”

He lets out a mechanized chuckle, pulling out the chair and sitting down. It creaks underneath him, making you feel a bit sorry for his seat.

“Nothing special, just some seasonings with extra cheese. I’m glad you like it, although I implore you to go grocery shopping soon for more nutritious meals, you are worth more than macaroni and cheese and ramen.” His tone becomes serious at the end and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I see you found my ramen stash.” You chuckle before taking another bite.

“I did. You have a tremendous amount… It’s insane.”

You snorted from his words, he wasn’t wrong, ramen is what you thrive off of.

“It’s quick and easy! Pop in the microwave, badda bing badda boom a 50 cent five course meal.”

“That… That is not a five course meal!” He sounds almost offended, a surprised look in his eyes. “And in the microwave? You do not cook it on the stove?”

“Nope.” You draw the word out slowly, a small smile on your lips as you gauge his shocked reaction. It takes him a few moments but he finally regains his composure.

“I see, well, that’s alright. It is just something we will have to work on together. I will write you a list and when you have the time I really encourage you to get these items, it will help me cook even better meals than this one. Does that sound good to you?” His tone was much softer now, comforting and unjudging.

“Yeah, that sounds good to me, I’ll go out shopping after class tomorrow.”

“Oh, you have class tomorrow? At what time?”

“Five am.” You say casually while taking another bite of your mac and cheese.

“Five am…? Superstar, it’s 2 in the morning.” He seems genuinely concerned for your well being now more than ever, having him here with you is really reminding you how much you don’t take care of yourself and you just finished repairing him.

“I know, I know.” You sigh out, eating the last of your mac and cheese. “I’ll go lay down right after I bring your charger inside.”

Freddy takes the bowl in front of you, getting up and putting it in the sink. “It is best if you go to bed right now. Just tell me what to do and I will set the charger up myself.”

“Um… Are you sure?” You quirk a brow. “It might be easier if you let me do it so you know what to do next time.”

“Nonsense, I can handle it, I am Freddy Fazbear!”

A small chuckle falls past your lips. “Well, if you say so. There is a large, modified battery sitting near my work bench, set up on the couch and plug the cord into the port on your arm. Then all you gotta do is flip the switch and you’ll begin to charge.”

“I see… Sounds easy enough, if I need assistance I will ask you. Please go rest now, I will see you in the morning.” There was a kindness in his optics, bringing you a sense of comfort.

“I hear you.” You huff, getting up from your seat turning around to head to the stairs. “Goodnight Freddy, see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, superstar.”

With that you leave to go up to your disarrayed room, kicking off your pants and climbing into your large comfortable bed. Although as soon as your head hits the pillow and your eyes fall closed the only thing you could think about was your new roommate.

#glamrock freddy #fnaf #glamrock freddy fnaf #glamrock freddy x reader #cc x reader #glamrock freddy x y/n #fnaf fic #fanfic #wooooo!!#Resurgence

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living-lucid-dream · 7 months ago

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Blind Pico AU (part six)

Part One

The next morning, Pico frets to Boyfriend over Darnell and Nene's impending visit. He asks Boyfriend to help him call them so he can cancel before they arrive. When Boyfriend asks him why, Pico says that he doesn't want them to see him "like this."

Boyfriend asks "Like what?" to which Pico waves his hands around his eyes and snaps, "THIS!" He goes on to say that he's worried about how they will react to his new disability and that it would be better if NOBODY else he knows sees how bad off he is.

Boyfriend tells him that is a silly reason to turn away his friends, especially when they're already worried about him. "Besides, they're going to have to find out sometime...unless you plan on NEVER hanging out with them again."

Pico mumbles that might not be such a bad idea and is about to reiterate that he wants Boyfriend to call them when there is a knock on the door. Boyfriend takes both of Pico's hands and squeezes them as he says, "Hey. It's going to be fine. I know you can do this. I'm going to go answer the door." Pico sighs, "Fine" and plops onto the couch to pout.

Nene and Darnell come in and, after a cursory greeting to Boyfriend, find Pico sitting on the couch. Darnell tells him it's good to see him alive. Pico answers that he'd tell them the same, but (gesturing to his eyes) "you know...."

Nene sucks in a quiet gasp. "No. No fucking way. You'd better tell me that was an extremely shitty joke. You are not--"

"Blind?" Pico interrupts. "Sorry to break it to you, but apparently having drain cleaner dumped in your eyes will do that."

Darnell says, "OK...so how long until it clears up?"

Pico lets out a bitter laugh. "Are you serious? I just told you: I had drain cleaner dumped into my eyes. It's not going to 'clear up'!"

A few seconds of painful silence go by. Then Nene says, "Alright. Who do we need to kill?"

Pico slumps, admitting he doesn't remember who assaulted him. They press him to try to remember as much as he can about what happened after they left him backstage at the concert. Pico is irritable at first, saying "I already had to do this with the police and they couldn't figure out shit."

Darnell says, "Yeah? Well we're not the police. So spill."

Pico reluctantly recounts the little he remembers. ("You guys stormed off after biting my head off. Some stagehand came up and gave me a beer. I drank the beer. And then there's nothing.")

They push him to remember what the stagehand looked like, but Pico admits that he wasn't paying attention to details. He only remembers that it was a guy, average build, dark hair, wearing a stagehand uniform.

Nene says, "Wow, real helpful, Pico."

Pico snaps back at her that it wasn't as though he started the night knowing he should commit every inconsequential detail to memory because it might come in handy if some asshole decided to permanently maim him.

Realizing that Pico is on the edge of losing his cool, Boyfriend jumps in to change the subject. He reminds Pico that he has something he wants to give to his friends. Pico still seems annoyed, but he asks Boyfriend to go and get the things from his bedroom. Boyfriend goes to Pico's room and returns with Darnell's lighter and Nene's throwing star.

Nene and Darnell are surprised to see that Pico had their things. They tell him they'd been missing them since the night of the concert. (Somebody had taken them out of the lockers they'd stored their personal belongings in before the show.) They ask Pico why he had them and he explains that they were found with him in the dumpster.

Darnell and Nene both go quiet. Then Darnell says, "Son of a bitch. Somebody actually tried to frame us, huh?" Nene adds that she hopes Pico wasn't dumb enough to fall for it. When Pico fails to immediately disavow her of this, she says, "Wow, Pico, give us some credit. I mean, baseball bats and drain cleaner? That's hardly our M.O." (Darnell adds "Yeah, man. You know that if we wanted to kill you, we would have made sure to finish the job!")

They all laugh at this (with the exception of Boyfriend, who isn't sure what to think of the gallows humor) and the tension in the air fades. Then Nene says, "So you really don't remember anything between drinking the beer and waking up in the hospital?"

Pico affirms that is the case. Darnell says, "Naw, man. Those memories are in there somewhere...how do you feel about hypnosis?"

Pico shrugs, saying he doesn't really believe it works. Darnell says that "Yeah, most of the hypnotist shows where they make people do stupid shit like bark like a seal is bogus. But it can help people remember things their conscious mind forgot. It might be worth a shot."

Pico asks Darnell when he started getting into all this woo-woo crap and says (assuming it works as advertised, which it doesn't) he's not about to let some rando mess with his head. Darnell tells him it wouldn't be some rando: it would be him.

Pico asks Darnell "Are you for real?" Then, when he doesn't answer, he laughs and says, "Yo, Nene, Bee! Darnell's extra-smart big-brain has finally turned on him. I mean, for crying out loud, hypnotism?"

Boyfriend quietly replies, "Actually, I think you should try it." Pico is incredulous, but Boyfriend goes on to explain that they still have no leads as to who the assailants were. "Maybe this will shake something loose enough for us to figure it out."

Pico turns to Nene, now taking on a pleading tone as he says, "Nene, you agree that this is a stupid idea, right?"

Nene just says, "I dunno. It's better than anything we have now, which is bum-fuck nothing."

Pico grumbles that he can't believe he is doing this, but agrees to let Darnell try hypnotizing him.

Minutes later, Pico is laying down on the couch. Before Darnell begins, Pico implores Boyfriend not to let Darnell or Nene make him do anything stupid and to "kick Darnell in the nads" if he tries. Then Darnell begins giving Pico instructions to relax and focus on his breathing. After several minutes, Pico does seem to relax--so much so that Boyfriend thinks he must have fallen asleep.

Darnell shakes his head and says he doesn't think so. He asks Pico if he can still hear him and Pico says he can. Then he starts trying to direct Pico to recall what happened just before he drank the beer, specifically, any memories about the stagehand. Pico stays quiet for a long time. Then he says he was about my height. Dark hair. Average build. And he had a weird tattoo on his wrist...like some kind of round maze...."

Boyfriend whispers "Oh my god it's working..." Nene and Darnell seem to be just as surprised as Boyfriend. Then Darnell tells Pico to try and remember anything about what happened after he drank the beer. Pico seems to tense up a bit and says "No." Darnell reminds Pico to relax and that he's safe. Then he again directs Pico to remember what happened after he drank the beer. Pico whispers in a small voice that he doesn't want to. Darnell asks him to try.

Pico whimpers a rapid narrative that he can't move and he can't talk, that there are "things" around his wrists and legs, that he's laying on something hard...and then he starts to scream.

Boyfriend immediately runs to him and tries to shake him awake, but Pico's screaming turns into sobbing. Over Pico's shrieks, Boyfriend yells to Darnell to wake him up--now!

Darnell shakes himself out of his momentary stupor and quickly directs Pico to be fully awake and alert. Pico's screams stop, but the stress of the experience has triggered a hallucination of sorts and he is still thrashing against Boyfriend. He yells at Boyfriend, "Let go; DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!" When Boyfriend tries to reach for his hand, Pico takes a wild swing, punching Boyfriend on the nose and knocking him back so he falls onto the coffee table and snaps it in half.

It's at this moment that Girlfriend bursts onto the scene. First, she sees Boyfriend sprawled over the destroyed coffee table. Then she sees Pico curled up in a quivering ball, pulling at his hair and whispering, "Shut up, shut up, I know you're dead, goddamn it shut up!" Then she sees Nene and Darnell standing around looking contrite. With her eyes just short of shooting flames, she demands of them, "What. The hell. Happened?"

Boyfriend comes to their defense, explaining that they were only trying to help and they didn't mean to give him a bloody nose or to hurt Pico or to break the coffee table into smithereens. Darnell and Nene elaborate that they were attempting to help Pico remember anything that would help them figure out who hurt him.

Meanwhile Pico seems to be calming down. He is no longer curled in on himself and he's stopped whispering. Girlfriend asks him if he's alright. He says that he thinks he is now and asks if they got anything helpful.

Boyfriend says that he told them a little more about the stagehand guy. Pico notices Boyfriend sounds like his nose is stuffy and asks him what happened. Boyfriend says, "Uh...you kinda-sorta decked me in the face."

Pico groans and apologizes for hurting Boyfriend. ("Thought you were Hanzou, that little creep. Can you believe that?") Darnell says, "No, I'm sorry I pushed you that far. Shit, you even said you didn't want to remember any more. I should have listened to you."

With the mood still tense, Girlfriend decides to show everybody what she has brought with her for Pico: it's a lavender fragrance mist, meant to promote relaxation. She says "I thought since you're still having nightmares it might help you sleep better. Mom absolutely swears by this stuff. Here, take a whiff!"

Girlfriend sprays the lavender scent. Darnell and Nene agree that it smells nice, and Boyfriend says it must be pretty strong because he can smell it even with his nose puffing up. But the effect on Pico is immediate and extreme. His whole body seems to tense and he starts breathing faster, almost to the point of hyperventilating. Then he starts to tremble and sweat.

Girlfriend freaks out, thinking that Pico must be allergic to the spray, but Nene and Darnell realize he's having a panic attack. They usher him away from the couch (against Boyfriend and Girlfriend's protests that "he shouldn't move if he's that shaky!" and "you're going to make him pass out!"), and into the kitchen. Once away from the scent, Pico starts to calm down again. When he is able to speak, he expresses bewilderment and embarrassment that he "had a complete shit fit over some froufrou perfume. What is wrong with me?"

Darnell asks Girlfriend if he can take the bottle of lavender spray. She glances over at Pico, who is irritably swiping beads of sweat off his face, and tells him to take it (it's not like they're going to be using it for Pico.)

Darnell and Nene say goodbye to Pico, Boyfriend, and Girlfriend. Once outside, Nene says, "Never pegged you as a fan of woman-y perfumes." Darnell says he doesn't plan on using it and tells her to take a good look at the bottle. The logo on the bottle looks like a fancy sponge with the words "Cyril's Squeaky Clean Shoppe" printed on it.

Nene gives a venomous grin and says, "Ooh, it looks like we're going to be visiting an old friend after all!"

#Friday Night Funkin #FNF #FNF AU #Blind Pico AU #Pico #FNF Boyfriend #FNF Girlfriend #Darnell #Nene #Pico x BF x GF

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saccharineflesh · 2 months ago

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⸻ santiago cabrera, 46, male, him/he ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of LEANDRO CONTRERAS. they are FOURTY SIX, and have been missing for FIVE YEARS. when the sun rises, they work as PASTOR. rumors in town say they can be CONSERVATIVE and CONSCIENTIOUS. they chose to live in THE CHURCH, and have an uncanny resemblance to Daniel (Lucifer), Phillip Banks (Fresh Prince), Danny Tanner (Full House). can they survive another night ?…⸻ bags under his eyes, uncertain paths, imposter syndrome.

𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 ♱ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 ♱ 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ♱ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓

➷ BASIC;

FULL NAME: leandro contreras AGE: fourty6 BIRTHDATE: apr 9 ZODIAC: aries PLACE OF BIRTH: chicago, il ETHNICITY: chilean GENDER: cis male PRONOUNS: him/he SEXUAL ORIENTATION: straight (as a circle) OCCUPATION: pastor LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english, spanish

➷ PHYSICAL;

HEIGHT: 6'0" WEIGHT: 170 lbs EYES: dark brown HAIR: dark brown BUILD: tone TATTOOS: n/a. PIERCINGS: n/a.

➷ HEADCANONS;

↪ His wife gave birth in Arcadia to his second child Juan Diego around two months after arriving ↪ Sol, Leandro's wife, was beckoned out by one of Them one night and was killed. Her remains were found the next morning outside of the church doors by him ↪ After his wife's death, Leandro began to struggle with his own religion and while he still to this day offers support and prayers, silently his belief is deteriorating ↪ Aside from helping and maintaining the church, Leandro aids with the farm animals ↪ He's always had a fascination with insects ↪ Is an avid fisherman and smokes all fish caught in order to preserve them for longevity

➷ BEFORE;

Leandro was born to an immigrant mother who sailed across the Pacific in order to better herself and her family. Leondra came from a low income family and at the age of sixteen had gained access to an illegal ship on route to the United States. The trip was a dangerous one and there was no guarantee that she, or anyone else for that matter, would make it before being spotted by customs or police but against all odds she successfully made the trip.

Upon arriving to this foreign land, Leondra’s crew were taken to a house where they could remain as long as they could afford their stay. This of course came with its own challenges, and soon the teenager made her way out onto the street in search of well paying jobs willing to pay under the table. Whether it was cleaning homes, breaking down boxes at bodega’s, and during hard times even selling back bottles and cans gathered from trash and dumpsters. There wasn’t a job Leondra wasn’t willing to do in order to better herself and potentially send money back home to her parents.

Being illegal in the country meant that she needed to evade police attention whenever possible, but as long as she kept to herself she knew she would be alright. Three years into her new life Leondra started seeing some guy and ended up pregnant. The news was shocking to say the least, but having to raise her kid on her own and with no money proved to be her real struggle. Leandra had barely managed to afford renting a room in someone’s home and keeping food coming in at least once a day, but come his third birthday Leandro’s mother made the decision to leave him at a church’s doorsteps. Confident that they would take care of him.

Most of Leandro’s early life consisted of going to school, coming home to play in the backyard, and doing it all over again until he aged out of the school system. His foster family didn’t bother taking the children out very much except for church during some holidays and it made sense why as they fostered a good ten to twelve at any given moment. There was never any sense of privacy, so Lea learned to hold in a lot of his emotions and temperament.

During high school Leandro became more involved with friends and soon began to live life more freely. He had no money to use but he followed around his friends and offered to help out in whatever way he could just so he wouldn’t be stuck at home.

In order to keep up with the kids around his age, Leandro applied to any job hiring a 14-15 year old kid and soon he was picking up trash around a church for a quick weekend buck. It wasn’t fun by any means, but gave him enough money to get by. Throughout his time there he became super close with the pastor’s daughter and the two began secretly dating. Leandro and Sol Maria’s relationship was as tame as it could ever be. They would sit besides one another during service, then run off to pick flowers and study the bible beneath a tree in the yard. He hadn’t been religious until that moment.

It took a good two years before he asked for her father’s blessing and hand in marriage - Leandro was barely seventeen at the time but in that little time they knew each other he had decided he belonged to her. That she was his future. Of course the parents didn’t approve but instead of discouraging and shutting down his approach, her father offered him a plan of action.

The next couple of years, Leandro spent them learning and bettering himself for the church. Welcoming all knowledge new and old so that he could follow in God’s grace and be a faithful follower. During this time a lot changed in Leandro’s life; He graduated high school and attended college, he and Sol became public and moved in together - much to her father’s dismay - and he became a youth pastor at the church. It wasn’t long before he and Sol married with her family’s blessing although it wasn’t as if they left them with much of an option after moving in together.

They were able to put off having kids for years while focusing on their relationship, their faith, and becoming financially stable. The year they paid off their home their first born Guadalupe, or Lupita as they call her, was born. It came without question that their daughter then became the center of their world.

Four years later they became pregnant once more. A child who they had already planned on naming Juan Diego, but before the child was born - while on a camping trip - Leandro and his family came across a fallen tree on the road.

➷ QUESTIONAIRE;

How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?

After hours of driving with no place to go, Leandro and his wife gathered their then five year old daughter Lupita and took shelter in the diner. They didn’t have the first of what was going on, and while others attempted to explain, there was no way that Leandro could simply accept the oddities spewed. His family being in danger was the farthest thing from okay, and while he knew they always had God on their side, Leandro was scared. The night only seemed to bring more devastation to his innocent family. His wife - close to 8 months pregnant - was almost impossible to console. For whatever reason his daughter was holding things together better than the two of them combined.

Why did your muse choose to live where they do?

After accepting the very bazaar reality around them, Leandro and his wife chose to live in the church so they could provide the town with some form of comfort in light of everything happening. They had spent their entire lives following the bible, and in trying times like these, He was the only one who could provide a shred of peace. Even if the world around them crumbled slowly, day by day. They had each other, and they had their faith, and together they would get through these dark times.

What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?

Every summer, Leandro takes his family on a round trip around the states. They bought an RV and remodeled it to accommodate extended living to avoid having to spend extra money on hotels. They had been traveling between states, getting ready to visit Niagara Falls, when they stumbled across a tree on the road. Leandro wasn’t sure how it’d cracked in such a way, as the weather hadn’t been too intense, but moving it out of the way had proved to be impossible. So he went around it, and found himself unable to get back on the road. That’s when he came across the diner.

Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?

One of the many things that Leandro prayed for was his family. His wife, his daughter, and their unborn son. He had aged out of the foster care system, so while he was devastated to be stuck in a town like this, Leandro had the people who meant everything to him right by his side. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, he wasn’t quite sure yet. They left behind an entire congregation of dedicated worshippers back home. A church he had called home since the age of fourteen, and his wife’s family.

#helltownfmsintro

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yoshinoritoshi · 3 months ago

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Arms At Rest.

Chisaki Kai x Fem!Reader

Summary: You end up saving a man from your back alley, and he hates your entire existence.

Warnings: Blood/Injury, Reader has a Quirk.

•

He Needs A Hand, Or Two.

Opening up the backdoor, you sigh a bit as you step into the alleyway, your trash bag full and heavy on your shoulder as you make your way down further inside it.

Dark and musty, it's awful, but if you don't throw your trash out tonight then you'll have to deal with it in the morning, meaning, waking up early... Which you really don't want to do.

Reading the numbers on the sides of the dumpsters, you find the one belonging to your block and toss it inside, huffing just a bit from the effort. You certainly aren't that athletic, and since you graduated, you've never really gone outside much either.

Not to say you never did go out, but oftentimes it was your friends who asked you and you just tagged along. Happy to be with them, but not really engaging in anything too much. It was a bit of a comfort nowadays, but you have noticed that they slowly started asking you less and less...

Maybe they were getting bored of your presence there? Watching but not acting?

Perhaps you should text one of them and ask if they want to go drinking this weekend, relax, and connect a bit... Yeah, that'd be nice.

Arms At Rest.

Currently, I am editing earlier chapters to fit my more current writing style and change the second person past to second person present, so I've decided to post links to them as I update them.

All of this is to get y'all hype for the final chapter of AAT! This story is almost over... Six years in the making! See y'all there.

#yoshi writes #kai chisaki #chisaki overhaul #overhaul #bnha overhaul #chisaki x reader #overhaul x reader #fem!reader #arms at rest

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honeyhobies · 1 year ago

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checking out miles42's room and oh, his lil hanging plant near the window.....

imagining the wealth of funeral flowers the morales family gets after his dad's death. miles can't stand them, he hates that they're the only pastels in the apartment and their scent churns his stomach.

worst though are the house plants they're gifted. intended to be low maintenance, great distractions, some bit of pretty life among all the grief. rio tries to take care of them at first; she likes the look of their painted pots and setting a watering schedule is easy enough. routines are good, and the greenery does make her smile when she leaves her bedroom alone in the mornings. but then she needs to take on more hours at work, and eventually they blend into the background of the apartment, forgotten.

miles refuses to do anything with them.

when their leaves turn yellow he plucks them off so he doesn't have to clean them off the floor later. when nothing is left but withered brown twigs he takes the pot out onto the fire escape just so he can hear the terracotta shatter when he drops it into the dumpster below. the plants start disappearing one by one, and the apartment slowly returns to what it was before—or at least, a poor imitation of it, where there were no greens of various plant life scattered about but a home still filled to the brim with his dad's life. miles starts climbing the fire escape higher, pretends that the shatters from this height are louder than the grief in his own heart.

it takes him four months of mami overworking herself to realize that there's a pot of ivy that still has green leaves.

it was shoved into the corner of the kitchen window that would've been a hazardous spot if his mom was actually using the kitchenware in the cupboard next to it. but she's barely been able to cook lately and miles definitely doesn't have the kind of skills to use what's in there, so the plant was left alone, miraculously thriving on the sunshine streaming through the window. miles only notices it because his abuela is visiting and he accidentally steps on a few leaves on a vine that's grown long enough to brush the ground when he's ushered out of her way during dinner prep.

his appetite vanishes. the phantom scent of sweet decaying lilies and carnations and all the other ugly pastel flowers chokes his throat. he thought he had finally be rid of all of them, and seeing this one still left standing rears something ugly in his chest.

it's his abuela who coaxes him away from grinding his foot into the leaves, smashing them into the tile, she who says that starving something of love will always be a terrible thing to know. all four burners on their stove are going, the oven has just finished preheating, but she takes the time to fill a cup with water, gives it to him, and compliments him on keeping this small thing alive, when funeral flowers are notorious for not surviving.

it's miles who quietly moves the plant into his room that night, and he learns the rights and wrongs about repotting, sunlight, and watering.

(and, at one point, pests. but he also learns how to overcome that, even if it was an insanely annoying experience turned inside joke with ganke)

the ivy had fared well enough on its own, but it's miles who makes it happy. his hands that make it grow thicker and longer and livelier, until he needs to start tacking its vines up along the window sills to spread its greenery around. this one tiny thing no longer tiny that depends on him, that has learned he will be good to it. he did that.

miles did that.

—

later, when designing his first prowler suit, the purple accents are for his mom, a subtle nod to her favorite color. because he's trying to bring good back into his community, stepping up to do whatever he can to forcibly relinquish some of the sinister six's control over his city, but he's also fighting for her.

and the green details—there's not as many, or as prominent as all the neon purple, but he feels they're just as important to add.

#i have. Emotions over the kid we saw for like two minutes max in this movie fldknlgknx #miles morales #miles 42 #prowler miles #<- what tags do we use for him jfc lol #clawcode #<- listen it's only implied but hear me out: clawcode in everything #and i personally think it'd be v funny for miles to have what he considers a catastrophic experience of Bugs In His Room #that ganke would treat as a “was the grink there” type of situation lmaoo #fringeposts #spiderverse #atsv

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final-girl96 · 11 months ago

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Firefly Chapter Fifty-Five

Flashback

“Raaa!”

Ellie's eyes flew open, “Ah!” She threw someone onto the floor and took the switchblade from underneath my pillow. She was prepared to fight for my life until I realized it was just her best friend Riley.

“Riley?” She asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Riley was laughing, “Ow!” She said as she slowly stood to her feet. “I landed on my hip.” Ellie stood from the bed and looked at her best friend. “What the hell? I thought I was bitten,” she said. Riley let out a chuckle, “I know. It was kind of awesome,” she told her with a smile. She paused and looked at Ellie, who still had her blade trained on her. “Well, you're not gonna kill me, are you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes and put the blade away, ”I haven’t seen you in. I don’t even know how long,” she told her girl in front of her. Riley sighed, “Forty-five days. Well, forty-six... technically. Wanna know what I've been up to?” She asked. Ellie was a little angry at her best friend for leaving her here, at the FEDRA school, or as she liked to call it, the orphanage for unwanted children, “All this time... I thought you were dead,” she exclaimed.

Riley softened and reached for the chain around her neck. “Yeah. Here,” she removed the pendant from her neck and passed it to Ellie. “Look.” Ellie took it and examined it. She was looking at a round pendant with the fireflies symbol on it. “No way,” she said in disbelief. Riley shrugged and looked around the room. “Still no roommate? I had to sleep under Liz for three years, and you know how much that girl smells.”

Ellie didn't answer about the roommate. Instead, she said, “You're a Firefly.” Riley pulled a picture of her and Ellie from the wall. “You still have it up,” she said softly.

Ellie came back to reality and rushed past her, opening the door, checking the hallway to make sure no one heard them. “Wha- What are you doing?” Riley asked, setting the picture down. Ellie closed the door and turned to her best friend. “I'm making sure I don’t get caught with a Firefly in my room,” she said.

Riley rolled her eyes at her, “Relax. There are no soldiers on the entire floor,” she said. Ellie gave the pendant back, “Here. Congrats,” she said, more harshly than she meant to. She was still upset with Riley for leaving. She turned away from her but Riley caught her arm, “Hey! Are we cool?” She asked.

Ellie scoffed and snatched her arm free. “Are we cool?” She said in a joking tone. Riley's eyes softened. “I disappeared and you're mad. Ellie scoffed in reply. “And... I owe you an explanation. Let's get out of here and I'll tell you all about it,” She said, hoping Ellie would agree with her.

“It's almost morning. And I have military drills. You know, where we learn how to kill Fireflies,” Ellie said, pulling away. Riley reached down and grabbed Ellie's jeans off the floor. “Put some pants on, and let's go.” Ellie caught them with a sigh. She had a battle going on in her head, but it didn't last long as she pulled her pants on. “This is so dumb,” she commented. Riley opened the window again and stepped out of it. “Come on. When have we ever gotten into trouble?”

Riley led them through the alleyways, being careful not to get caught by the FEDRA officers that were on the night watch. It was way past curfew. She led them to an old apartment building that was no longer being used because of how bad it was inside. Parts of the roof were caved in letting the elements in.

They climbed up onto an old dumpster in the back alley and crawled through a window. “That was close, huh?” Riley asked. They had almost been caught by the flood lights FEDRA used but were able to duck down just in time. “You're kinda fast there. I'm impressed,” Riley said. Ellie said thanks before following Riley up a flight of stairs. “So, how did you find them?” Ellie asked. “The Fireflies?” Riley asked. “Yeah.”

“Remember that Firefly that you bit and stole his gun?” Ellie acknowledged that she remembered him, and Riley went on to tell her how she came to be with the Fireflies. “That's Trevor. I saw him walking the street, so I tailed his ass. I followed him into this alley, and all these Fireflies ambushed me. They took me right to their hideout. To Marlene.”

They jogged down a hallway, turned, and ducked under the bored up door to an apartment. “Were you scared?” Ellie asked. Ellie decided to slow down and look around the apartment, and Riley waited until she was finished. “Terrified. I thought this time she would actually shoot me. But instead, she just says, “what took you so long?”. She was expecting me,” She answered, Ellie.

Ellie was standing at a dining room table and picked up a flier. It had a picture of Marlene on it. A front photo and her side profile, side by side.

WANTED

FOR FIREFLY AFFLICTION

At the bottom had a description of Marlene and any other criminal priors she had and cautious for what to be aware of if someone were to come across her. But at the top, someone had taken a black marker to it, writing HERO over the large red wanted for firefly affiliation.

“And she just made you a firefly?” Ellie asked, turning back around. “Something like that. That whole almost killing me thing was a test. She wanted to know I was committed.” Ellie jogged back over where Riley was and followed her into the main bedroom, or at least that's what it looked like. The ceiling was caved in exposing the apartment above. Riley and Ellie climbed up onto whatever it was that fell all the way from the roof, Ellie wasn't sure what it was. She just climbed up on top of it and to the next floor.

The room they were in had been a kids' bedroom from the look of posters on the wall. There was a giant hole in the wall that looked into the living room and kitchen area of the place. Ellie flattened her back against the wall and carefully crossed to the other side of the room. “Who do you hang out with these days?” Riley asked, climbing through the hole in the wall. “I don't know. No one really,” Ellie answered. “What about Tino and the rest of them? How are they doin’?

“Riley, those are your friends,” Ellie said, following her into the next room. “But you talk to them,” Riley told her. Ellie rolled her eyes and looked around the apartment. “Yeah. Yeah,” she mumbled. She followed Riley around the corner but came to a stop when she saw the firefly's symbol on the wall marked in red spray paint. Above it said “find the light”.

“Have you found the light yet?” Ellie said, rolling her eyes once again. “Oh, har, har.” Riley responded. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend your people,” Ellie said sarcastically. She turned to see Riley ducking under another hole in the wall that led to the laundry room of the apartment building. “So, what? You buy into this whole thing now?” Ellie asked, following after her. “All I know is I'm not a soldier,” Riley told her. They walked out into the hallway, and Ellie saw another sign written in black spray paint and one in red underneath it.

Don't be a sheep

WAKE UP

FEDRA SUCKS

As the two teenage girls headed up the stairs, an announcement came over the intercoms around the QZ.

Attention. We are pleased to report the zone has been free of Cordyceps infection for thirty days. Your cooperation and dutiful attention to suspicious activity…

“Thirty days, my ass. People are getting infected all the time. They just do a good job hiding it,” Riley said. They ran up the steps, took a left, and went down another hall. “You've run into more infected?” Ellie asked. “That's part of my ignition. They actually made me kill this… You know, let's talk about something else.” They went to the end of the hall and jumped through a busted out window and onto the roof tops.

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