#these are all a lighting nightmare and probably look like garbage

[ambalambs]

I had some thoughts on a sort of "bad end" scenario for Asra where his voidsent eventually consumes him and takes control.

He'd probably return to the fourteenth with his new body and reclaim his domain while Asra's body would slowly gain traits of the voidsent's appearance from its mortal form, like the black hair and eventually green eyes (which i didnt do in these because i wasnt gonna spend a whole fantasia on that lol). The voidsent is arrogant and deranged which i hope i kinda grasped with the facial expressions since Asra would never smile like that.

Also this au of course wouldnt happen since Asra is too strong for the voidsent to do this and also i see them eventually working together and being buddies of a sort so yeah lol just a bit of fun here

[7s3ven]

okay I feel like you would be the perfect person to write this request! Obviously you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to :)it and idea for a Luke castellan x reader (and spoilers for the books/series if you haven’t read the books or know the plot!)

Is there anyway you’d be interesting in writing a Luke x reader where they’re a daughter of Poseidon fic where he betray the reader and like poisons them instead of percy but reader and Luke where in a relationship??? Idk mad woman by Taylor’s swift like opening lyrics give off that sort of vibe sorry if this makes no sense 😭

THE WAY I GASPED AND SHOUTED "THAT'S EVIL". Nahhh, poor Y/N. I feel so bad for the suffering I'm going to put her through...

( master list )

POISON AND TOXIN. luke (pjo)

IN WHICH... Luke commits the unthinkable and Y/N no longer wants any part in his life. Unfortunately for her, Luke isn’t ready to let her go.

"I'm takin' my time, takin' my time. 'Cause you took everything from me. Watchin' you climb, watchin' you climb over people like me."

Warnings : spoilers, details will differ (I haven’t read the books in ages), obsessive love, yandere! luke, kidnapping, angst, betrayal, toxic relationship, mentions of sex, manipulation, y/n + luke know they’re toxic but they can’t stay away from each other

—

The last few days without Percy had been uneventful to say the most. Y/N groaned as she slowly sat up, clutching her aching head. The pain was pounding against her skull, causing her to quietly scoff. She groggily reached for a bottle of pills beside her bed, taking one to relieve the pressure.

The harsh light from the sun seared into the room and she groaned, squinting her eyes to protect them.

“Another late night, Y/N?” Harmon, a boy from the Apollo cabin, called out as she exited her cabin to breathe in the morning air. He jogged over to a swaying Y/N.

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel right without Percy.” Y/N groaned, running a hand through her untidy hair. She probably looked like a mess right now but with all the thoughts rushing through her mind, she didn’t care.

It felt wrong without Percy. All those years alone had done some damage on her and it had been exciting to have someone new in her cabin, for a little while at least. While Percy occupied the bed in the corner of the dusty room, Y/N’s nightmares came to a temporary halt. She was happy for the time being, her dreams filled with pretty flowers and romantic settings instead of chilling monsters and bony hands threatening to drag her to the bottom of the ocean.

“How’s Luke?” Harmon questioned, causing Y/N to heave an annoyed sigh. She rolled her E/C sighed, scowling.

“As distant as ever.” She sneered. She lifted her head, making eye contact with the one person they were talking about. Y/N held strong eye contact with Luke before glancing back to Harmon, smiling at him. “Have you had breakfast yet?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side. “Do you know if there’s any food left?”

“There might be. You woke up pretty late.” Harmon grinned.

“I will see you later, then. I have to make myself look presentable and not like a raccoon that just crawled out of a garbage can.” Y/N laughed at her own joke as she waltzed back into her cabin, kicking the door closed. She hummed under her breath as she pulled the crop top she slept in off, replacing it with her bra and the bright orange shirt she hated so much.

She quietly yelped when her door creaked open, thinking it was someone else. She felt a little relieved when it was only Luke. He stood there in all his glory, arms folded over his chest and a look on his face that suggested he wasn't happy at all. "What was that?" He questioned, sitting down on Y/N's bed as she looked at him in confusion.

"Uh... what?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Luke scoffed at her perplexed face, not believing it for a second.

"You were flirting with that Apollo boy. You're my girlfriend, not his." Luke snapped, anger glazing over his usual kind eyes. Y/N was taken aback, staring at him with her red-tinted lips parted in surprise.

"I wasn't... what? Luke, I wasn't flirting with Harmon. He's my friend." Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she slid on a pair of pants. She could feel Luke's gaze watching her every move and wandering over her waist.

What had become of Luke? She was at camp before he even arrived and she was the one to show him around, introducing the boy to the perilous life of a demigod. Ever since that damned quest, he had been acting different. More closed-off, more secretive with someone he once shared everything with, and he let his temper get the best of him; always shouting at people and letting his anger flare up like he was Clarisse.

Annabeth could sense the change too.

"What's with you, Luke? You used to be fine with me talking to Harmon." Y/N took a careful step towards her boyfriend, not wanting to upset him even more.

"That was before he started staring at you like you were the only girl he could ever date." Luke jeered as he deeply frowned. Y/N smoothened out her messy bedsheets before taking a seat next to him.

She stared at him, not really knowing what to reply with. Her breath shuddered as she shrugged. "I guess I could... talk to him less?" She muttered, causing Luke's face to light up. He instantly smiled, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace.

"I love you." He whispered, pressing a light kiss to the side of her neck. Y/N blinked a few times, thickly gulping.

"I... I love you too, Luke." His hands felt like blistering metal on her bare arms but she couldn't find the courage to pull away, in fear he'd hurt her or leave her. Luke had never hit her, thankfully, but his words sometimes pierced her soul and he left her crying under her sheets, wondering what she had done wrong.

"I'll see you after archery, alright?" Luke ended the hug.

Y/N stared at him in confusion. "But... I thought you were teaching the newbies archery and I'd be showing someone else around?" She spluttered.

"Nah. I changed your job. Newcomer's a boy and I don't want him to get any ideas." Luke grinned and Y/N couldn't say no to his charming face. He passionately kissed her, cupping her face in his large hands to pull her closer.

"I should get going, Luke." Y/N breathed but he tugged her back.

"You can afford to leave them for a few minutes." He whispered, dragging Y/N onto his lap. She couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing bright red despite his hands harshly digging into her skin and his grip being so tight that she couldn't squirm away, even if she wanted to. Luke had no interest in whatever the new kid was saying. He kept babbling on and eventually, Luke managed to tune out his voice. The pair ended up in the arena and the boy, whose name was Gil, nudged Luke.

"Who's that?" Gil questioned, pointing at Y/N. Luke clenched his jaw and harshly cleared his throat. He placed his hands on Gil's shoulders, squeezing him tighter than needed.

"Y/N L/N." He muttered. "Pretty little thing, ain't she? She's great with archery. May as well be Apollo's daughter with that skill." Gil didn't notice the dark look in Luke's eyes, too preoccupied with craning his neck to catch another longing glimpse of Y/N. Luke cleared his throat, "The tour's over. I trust you'll be able to find the Hermes cabin by yourself?"

Gil mindlessly nodded.

Luke walked over to Y/N, tapping her on the shoulder. He kissed her cheek, making sure Gil saw his not-so-subtle advances. "What was that for?" She asked as she turned to Luke. The young demigods groaned at the sight of a couple and Y/N quietly laughed, effortlessly shushing them.

"I think you've had enough practice for today. Come back tomorrow, same time." Y/N said to the children, ushering them away. Luke slung an arm around her shoulder as they walked side by side.

"You have to stop attracting attention from other guys." Luke uttered to break the peaceful silence.

"What?" Y/N lightly gasped, offended. She glowered at Luke, quietly scoffing. "Oh, so it's my fault now?"

Luke shrugged, pressing his lips into an annoyed thin line. "I'm just saying. You wear low-waisted pants and a shirt that's too small." Y/N should have punched him for that comment but she was sure that Luke could do a lot worse to her pretty face.

"My clothes are not an invitation." Y/N quickly snapped.

"When did you start disrespectfully talking back?"

"It's hardly disrespectful, Luke. I'm simply standing up for myself. I do not condone your jealous behavior and troublesome remarks." Y/N harshly poked his chest, almost angrily baring her teeth at him. "Talk to me when you regain your senses. It's not my damn fault that you feel so threatened by other boys that you start blaming me."

Luke ran his tongue over his teeth as he watched Y/N storm off. He bit the inside of his cheek before huffing in frustration. Y/N would forgive him for his harsh and cold words in no time, she always did. Especially when he'd sneak into her cabin at night with her permission and press her hips deep into her squeaky mattress.

Y/N went to lunch furious and still fuming. A part of her wanted to wear an over-sized shirt to please Luke while the other refused to back down. What gave him the right to dictate her life while he could do whatever he wanted simply because of his gender?

Y/N was even angrier to see Luke standing at the Aphrodite table, entertaining the giggling girls who he knew had a thing for him. She gripped her fork tightly and jumped when someone slid into the seat next to her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Y/N recognised him as the Gil boy, or whatever his name was. She raised her eyebrows as her lips curled into a slight sneer.

“Do I… know you?” She asked, “Only Poseidon kids are allowed to sit here and until my brother is back, nobody but me should be here.”

Gil quickly stood up, his knees hitting the table. “Sorry. I didn’t realise. I’ll, uh, go back to the Hermes table. Sorry, again.” He ran off while Y/N sighed. She picked at her half-eaten food before deciding she was no longer hungry. It was a rash decision but as soon as she reached the wildly dancing fire, she threw her food and plate in. Her father wouldn’t be too pleased but he could live with it.

Luke’s sharp gaze followed Y/N as she left the cheerful atmosphere. He quietly chuckled and smirked. If there was one thing that he knew about Y/N, it was that she didn’t handle jealousy too well either.

He left the Aphrodite table without an excuse, not caring about the girls drunk with love. “Hey, Y/N, honey, did that Gil kid upset you? I understand that he’s a little annoying but I can talk to him if you want.” Luke clasped his hands around her wrist, forcing her to stop walking so quickly.

“It’s not his fault!” Y/N exclaimed, spinning around. Her eyes were red and the tears welling up in her eyes shone in the dim sun. “It’s yours, Luke! You treat me like I’m some… some girl who worships the ground you walk on! Well, I don’t! I have some self-respect left. And if you want to flirt with other girls then that’s fine by me. But make sure you break up with me first because I’m not putting up with any of your bullshit.”

Luke chuckled, “Harsh words, don’t you think?” He almost jumped when Y/N let out a scream.

“You never take me seriously! All you do is play around and then you get mad at me for factors I can’t control! Yet you always brush me off when I’m trying to resolve things. You isolate me from my friends so I’m easier to mess with! Well, are you done now? Have you had enough fun?!”

“I’m not manipulating you. You’re crazy to think that. I love you, Y/N.”

“No! That’s not true! That’s a lie!” Y/N pulled at the end of her hair, “You fell in love with the idea of me! You’re in love with your version of me that lives inside your head! And then you get mad at me because I make a mistake and your Y/N isn’t supposed to make mistakes!But I’m not like her, Luke! You have pushed me too far and when I finally break, suddenly I’m the crazy one?! You always call me crazy. So guess what, maybe I am insane!” Y/N heavily panted as tears spilled over her hot cheeks, cascading down and temporarily staining her shirt. She had always been a kind soul but there was one particular flaw Y/N hated; her habit of crying whenever she was mad.

“If you won’t end our relationship then I will. We’re over, Luke. I’ve had enough of your jealousy and if you can’t accept that I have guy friends then maybe you need to think twice before attacking me.” Y/N reached up, grasping the necklace she had made Luke that hung around his neck, and yanking it off.

Luke watched in despair as the colourful beads dropped one by one to the floor, rolling under the green blades of grass. “Are you crazy?” He muttered, looking up. “You can’t leave me… I’m all you have.” He clutched his shirt, balling up the fabric, and he took long strides towards Y/N. “I made you into who you are. I created you from nothing. Before me, you were only a girl half-decent at archery. Now, you’re a prodigy. You would’ve been lost without my guidance and you have the guts to break up with me?!”

Y/N didn’t flinch, even when Luke’s voice pierced her sensitive ears. “It’s like you said, Luke. I am crazy. Breakups happen so deal with it.” She threw the remaining beads and the leather string at him before walking away, most likely to stay in the cool comforts of her cabin until Annabeth and Percy returned.

Luke could barely contain his rage and he hurriedly kneeled down to collect the beads, or at least the ones he could find.

Each bead and charm seemed to bring back a different memory of them arguing or fighting over a pointless topic. Luke sighed as he leaned his head back, knowing he had made a mistake.

But if there was one thing Luke Castellan refused to do, it was give up. So he stared at Y/N all throughout dinner. And even when Y/N made it clear that the sight of him made her sick, he still knocked on her door at night.

“Y/N.” He called out, impatiently tapping his foot against the old wood. “I’m sorry. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m ready to talk everything out. I’m calm now.”

Those were the exact words he had uttered to Y/N last week, promising he would change but he never did. Y/N had learned her lesson from that, refusing to open the door and going as far as locking it.

“Y/N. You’re being unreasonable.” Luke grumbled as he desperately tried to open the door, barging into it with his shoulder. He heard Y/N laugh.

“That’s ironic considering you’re trying to break my door down.” She spoke over the hooting owls and buzzing cicadas. “You always promise you’ll change but you never do. Don’t you think it’s time to stop making empty promises?”

Luke could hear her voice waver and he felt a small pang of guilt, knowing he was the reason behind her agonising sorrow.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, not only to Y/N but to everybody he was about to hurt, even to his father who was the most wretched man in this world. He repeated his sentence, leaning his head against the door. It suddenly swung open and Luke almost crashed into Y/N whom was still gripping the door knob.

She quietly sighed, her gaze immediately spotting his mournful eyes and his lips pulled into a guiltily frown. Y/N hesitated before stepping aside.

“This is your last chance, Luke.” She mumbled but he knew she was lying. She loved him far too much to devoid herself of his charming face.

Luke smiled as he brushed past Y/N. She could never resist him, after all. In a way, Luke pitied her for being so forgiving and sick with love because she and Percy were in the most danger out of everybody, even if they couldn’t see it yet.

The day Percy returned was the day Luke decided to be a hopeless romantic. He took an unsuspecting Y/N into the woods, twirling her around a few times because she always liked dancing.

While Y/N was distracted by the babbling brook and dipping her hand in the cool water, Luke clasped his hands behind his back. He was thinking of what to do next, let Y/N to fend for herself or he could struggle to protect her.

But sacrificing so much for a mere girl seemed pointless, even if Luke was developing strong feelings for Y/N. He quickly clicked his fingers, catching Y/N’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder, her joyful smiling fading as she laid eyes on the huge pit scorpion.

She scrambled back while Luke watched her pathetic attempt at escaping.

“I wouldn’t.” He uttered, “Pit scorpions can jump fifteen feet and slice right through your clothes. You’ll be dead in sixty seconds. But, of course, you already knew that because you love reading about these creatures. That’s why you look so frightened.”

Y/N looked at Luke, searching for any kindness in his eyes to offer her mercy. There was none. His eyes were like a void, empty and dark and lacking any human emotions.

He looked nothing like her Luke who she had met on his first day of camp, scared, annoyed, and baffled at what had become of his dead friend Thalia.

“It’s a shame I have to end our relationship here. I was starting to enjoy your presence, but giving up all my hard work for you is hardly beneficial.”

“What?” Y/N spluttered, trying to kick the scorpion away. She only made it angrier and it clapped his claws at her, ignoring Luke altogether. The scorpion’s tail was raised in hostility and Y/N held back a loud shudder of fear, knowing Luke was thriving off her terror. “Luke… what are you talking about?”

He laughed as if she were an idiot. She felt like one for trusting him despite how much he hurt her. “You don’t get it, do you? I want revenge. On my father and on the gods who have forsaken their children! They don’t give a shit about us. They never did. To them, we’re just some nitwits who are stupid enough to suck up to them. I was the one who stole the bolt, Y/N. Not Hades. And I was the one who sent that hellhound after Percy.”

“Luke, I trusted you.” Y/N thickly gulped.

“A fatal mistake.”

“No. That’s our parents you’re talking about, Luke. And you wouldn’t try and kill Percy… would you? Not my brother. You know how much he means to me.” Y/N’s eyesight turned glassy as she furrowed her eyebrows.

It all made sense now. His sour mood and his bitter attitude. All those nights she spent crying over his glass sharp words. Y/N felt foolish for not noticing what he was doing, but she was far too preoccupied with saving her relationship with Luke at the time.

“What did you think I’d say to that? Join you?” Y/N huffed.

Luke’s eyes flickered to the large bug that was only getting more furious as the seconds ticked by. “Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?” He simply questioned.

Y/N’s hardened gaze bored into his soul as she answered. “They strike to kill… and you know I will too.”

Yes, Luke knew that. Y/N was an exceptional fighter with strategic moves rivalling Annabeth’s. Every carefully planned attack she dealt was like instant death. Luke knew if she had a weapon then she wouldn’t hesitate to land a blow. But he also knew she cared for him far too much to stab his chest. If he had a better weapon, would he do the same? Or spare her?

“It’s a shame you won’t join me… I know you won’t. You and your brother are too alike.” Luke let out a low hum, “I guess we’ve both changed. You used to be hungry for power. I remember you would train until the sunset with your bow and arrow, always wanting to be the best. You’d skip meals, even if you were starving, and I’d have to beg and cry for you to eat. Maybe if my father didn’t give me that quest then we would’ve been fine.”

Luke stared at Y/N for a moment before a grin broke across his face. He stepped over the furious scorpion, pressing a strong kiss to Y/N’s lips. It felt on acid on her skin, itchy and burning and painful.

“A part of me hopes you’ll survive this.” He whispered, “So you can live to see another day. I’ll create the perfect world for you… you’ll see. You’ll love me again even if I have to force the words down your throat.”

Something slipped into her pocket but Y/N’s mind was on the pit scorpion. She flinched as the it climbed up her shoe, snapping its pinchers again.

“Luke.” She breathed as he began to walk away. “Luke. Don’t leave me here! Luke!” She screeched. She would have continued screaming, even if her voice gave up and her vocal cords tore, if it meant she could spend one more day with the warm and loving Luke that she once knew.

The scorpion drove its tail into her leg and she shrieked in pain. She kicked the creature off and desperately searched around for a weapon. She found a small dagger in her pocket, realising that’s what Luke must’ve given to her.

Y/N sliced the scorpion, panting as the world become a confused hazed. She stabbed the creature over and over again until it was nothing but a gruesome corpse of a once terrifying bug.

Y/N limped towards the water but she stumbled, falling to her knees. The toxin was spreading through her blood quickly. She desperately reached out a hand for the creek water, knowing it could possibly heal her. Making it in time to camp would be impossible with her blurring eyesight and inability to walk properly. She’d have to drag her stung leg behind her.

Y/N clawed her way towards the water before her body gave in to the poison. Her limbs grew numb and they refused to move.

Y/N heard the loud noise of bushes rustling and Percy burst into the clearing, Annabeth and a few Apollo kids following close behind.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice deafened by the ringing in her ears. She felt dizzy and the world spun in slow-motion as the Apollo healers turned Y/N on her back. Percy kneeled beside her, holding her hand tightly.

“She’s been stung. We don’t have much time. Feed her the nectar.”

Black dots swarmed around in her vision. She could see Annabeth yelling at her but she heard no voices as she let her head loll to the side and she finally succumbed to sleep, not knowing if she would wake up again.

Y/N stirred as the harsh light peeked through the thin curtains of the infirmary. She lightly groaned, shifting around to get more comfortable. Her senses were slowly coming back and she could finally hear again.

“Y/N?” Percy was at her side in an instant. She smiled up at him.

“He really stole the bolt… didn’t he?” She whispered. Percy slowly nodded.

“Yeah…”

Luke’s betrayal would be hard to endure for both the Poseidon siblings and Annabeth. He was beloved by most of the camp and he threw it all away for one pitiful shot at glory.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you loved him.” Percy’s grip on her hand tightened.

A small laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips. “I guess I did… but he didn’t love me back. Or maybe he did and I simply wasn’t enough…”

Luke’s love had ever been pure or innocent. There was always a catch to it. He was obsessive with her, constantly ensuring that no other guys talked to Y/N. At least, not the ones that posed a threat.

A part of Y/N would always miss Luke but she could feel relief wash over her body because she no longer had to endure his lashing-out anger and sadness anymore.

She had escaped his cruel clutches and until they met again, most likely on a battlefield with their swords pressed up against each other’s throats, she could live in peace.

However, happiness never lasted long for demigods. “Get some rest.” Percy uttered as he stepped out of the infirmity. It was late at night and the last Apollo kid had just finished her daily rounds at checking the patients.

Y/N quietly sighed as she leaned her head back, her eyelids fluttering closed. The floorboards creaked but she paid it no mind. All the cabins squeaked, even the Aphrodite one.

Y/N felt drowsy under the influence of the medicine she had been given and she fell asleep in no time. Her long awaited rest didn’t last for long, though, when she awoke with a loud gasp.

She was outside. In a shallow river. Her clothes stuck to her body and she spat out a mouthful of water. Y/N shivered, rubbing her arms as a sorry attempt to generate warmth.

From the shore, she heard a familiar laugh. It pierced her soul and Y/N stiffened, her breath trembling. Luke sat not even a meter away, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He saw her petrified face and it fuelled a sadistic need inside of him.

“I changed my mind, sweetheart.” Those words from him felt like poison to Y/N. “I got permission to keep you around as long as you don’t get into trouble.”

Luke inched forward and Y/N tilted away, trying to scramble rearward. Her back hit a large rock and she quivered, realising she was trapped between a boulder and Luke. Her former lover was approaching her quickly and she didn’t have time to react before he was kneeled in front of her, not caring how his clothes got soaked.

He gently grasped Y/N’s chin, an action that contrasted his aggressive approach back at camp. He tilted her head up so that she was forced to stare at him and sent her another sickeningly sweet smile.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” He whispered in her ear. His hands felt gross on her skin but her body refused to move. She knew she wouldn’t get far with her injured leg and weakened body. “Because I missed you terribly.”

His lips captured Y/N’s in a long kiss and for millisecond, she forgot all his wrongdoings. She almost melted before she came back to her senses.

As Luke pulled away, Y/N sank further into the river like it would save her from whatever callous and vicious act Luke was going to perform.

Her whole body shook, and not just from the cold, as she found herself cornered in Luke’s suffocating embrace once again after fighting so long to get out.

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303

[lechemoon]

the one where you're scared so you reach for spencer reid

spencer reid x gn reader

wc: 833 (drabble)

mentions of (warnings): bad feelings about bad places, rodents scurrying, being scared/creeped out

a/n: i officially made it to season 6 of my rewatch! slowly but surely, i get closer and closer to the end. we all know how i feel about spencer with his long hair, but i imagine this is his look after his haircut? enjoy!

-

it’s dark. not so dark that light doesn’t shine through the old blinds of the possible unsubs house, but dark enough that your eyes need to adjust to the dimness. 

and the dimness of the residence sends shivers down your spine and makes your hands shake involuntary. not that you haven’t been in this situation at least a handful of times, but something is telling you that the vibe is off. 

you’re thankful that you aren’t in charge of holding a flashlight- you don’t think you’d be able to keep still. you’re also thankful that emily is brave enough to take the lead, paving the way around the house and taking first glances so you don’t have to.

besides getting confirmation that the house was clear moments before going in, you’re comforted at the reality that you weren’t alone in this two-story nightmare.

if it weren’t for you being sandwiched in between emily and spencer in a sort of elementary school line, you think you wouldn’t be able to make it this far into the house. you’d probably make it past the doorway, but wouldn’t dare step any further like the living room or upstairs. 

but you are with them, and so you are upstairs. 

in fact, you’re in the thought-to-be unsubs bedroom- mattress on the floor undone and messy, and a few cups and garbage scattered around the room here and there. it looks and smells like the person hasn’t been in the room in weeks (maybe because they’re opting for a shed in the woods to sleep in). it’s odd, you think, that someone would come back to their home and use everything and not go into their bedroom.

your foot kicks a pile of trash and torn clothes, and a few small squeaks begin to fill the room. freezing, you stare at the pile and see it moving around, and what ever is under there is trying desperately to evacuate. another chill down your spine. you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise up.

it isn’t until a family of mice scurry their way past your feet that you finally move- gasping and grasping the forearm of the man behind you, squeezing and stepping back until you hit spencer’s chest. “r-rats,” you stutter. 

“they’re way too small- i would say they’re mice,” spencer explains calmly, but you can hear it in his tone of voice that he’s trying to hide how uncomfortable he feels. the proximity of someone so close to him that he can’t move forward is something the entire team knows he doesn’t particularly like.

in your mind, you think sorry, reid. i didn’t mean to grab you so viciously, reid. but you’re still too stunned from seeing snow whites’ meek little grey friends.

only after the squeaks of the mice dissipate do you begin letting go of him and stepping away to make yourself closer to emily instead. you pretend to not see the way she eyes you, a small, knowing smirk gracing her features before she speaks as well. “i’m not seeing anything here. next room, everyone?” she asks, already turning her body towards the rooms door and prepping to go left.

“h-hey,” spencer calls out from behind. there’s a smile he’s keeping from growing any wider. “are you… are you scared right now? of, uh, being in here?” 

he wants to tease you, you’ve seen that same expression on him when he’s playing around with others. derek especially.

you quite like the attention from him, but you don’t have it in you to tease back when you feel it in your bones that something just doesn’t sit well with you. maybe you need to keep reminding yourself that spooky places are sometimes just that- spooky places.

you bite your lip and grab a hold of one of your wrist to soothe yourself. “just a little. not that i’m scared of the dark or ghosts or anything, it’s just that-“

“you can hold onto my arm if that happens again,” he tells you, gesturing to his arm and then looking at you. it’s a shy, sweet invitation. “only i-if you want to, of course.”

it’s really considerate of him, you think, that he would sacrifice his own comfort to make sure you’re okay. it makes your fingers twitch, too, because for a moment you want to hook your arm around his. 

you smile back at him as you sidestep your way to follow emily to the next room. “thanks, reid. you really don’t have to do that.”

and after a beat you say, “but let’s keep that offer standing until we’re out of this creepy house, yeah? the family of mice might want to make their way back soon.”

you turn around to face forward and make sure you aren’t leaning or touching on any surfaces, so you don’t see his confidence is making him stand taller when he responds with a slightly shaky but excited, “o-or any creepy houses from here on out!”

-

a/n: hope you enjoyed it! <3

[jeppiner]

Low-income living

Sometimes low-income living drives me nuts. It's not the low-income that bothers me, frankly. I rock that. I can make money, food, and everything else stretch for miles. I am a pro at this. It is the fact that probably 7/10 low-income neighbours around here are just....sigh. We live practically on top of each other around here. The walls are thin. The houses are crowded together. Knowing this, they seem to be as loud as possible at all hours. They scream, fight, kick the walls. Three in the AM will find them loudly yelling at no one in the street or partying on their porch literally 6 feet from my bedroom window with all the lights on and music blaring. Drunkenness seems to be normal part of life. Some are addicts living on the streets or in filthy flop houses. They beg right outside the booze store (yeah, right buddy, move on). The others smoke literally right outside your open window, sometimes it feels like continuously, forcing me to shut my windows in perfectly lovely weather. (Why is it that the vast majority of low-income people - who cannot afford to smoke - smoke?) They leave garbage everywhere. Not just packaging though, they leave clothing, shopping carts, human feces on the pavement. and in the plazas. I have stepped into the doorways of some of their apartments. YIKES! They are on public welfare yet they can afford to get their nails and hair done? On public welfare, they can afford to get designer dogs?They can't manage their lives, and so they have kids who become unmanageable, and dogs that become aggressive and uncontrollable. Every teacher I know hates teaching in the local schools because the behaviour is off the wall and very little teaching gets done. I used to be better-off and middle class and we seriously did not see any of this in those neighbourhoods. The odd person might be a bit difficult, but most of them took care of their homes and yards, took care of their kids who were mostly very well-behaved albeit kids, lol. There was no wild all-night parties. Everything was pretty well done and dusted by 11 pm. Nobody puked or defecated on the sidewalk. The neighbourhood was well-tended and trash free except for windy garbage days. There was a mutual respect and mutual aid if needed. It was a community. This place is a transient nightmare. There is a fundamental difference as to how these two groups approach life. I don't know how to explain it either. There are definitely some gems in the low-income group. People who are doing their best, learning all they can, being responsible, and generally the salt of the earth. But those others are marked by entitlement, apathy, indulgence, and other not-so-great qualities. (Yeah, other groups suffer from this too, but honestly, it didn't seem to affect the rest of the community.) And I don't want to hear the "mental health issues" excuse. You cannot equate all mental health issues with rotten character and behaviour. That is a slap in the face to all those mental health folks who are incredibly kind and responsible people. I keep wondering if this is what narcissism looks like in low-income and possibly lower IQ (not very gifted) people.

I just don't know. Their incredible lack of consideration and common sense just astounds me at times. I have no idea how or why they live like this. Even at the height of the Depression, my old Nanna used to say, "We might BE poor, but we don't have to act like it, nor do we have to look like it." THAT seems to be the difference rather than the lack of money. It is an attitude thing. Anyway....just venting. Thanks for listening.

[amberskyyking]

Dying Isn't Very Regulation: Chapter 3

Crosshair awakes from another one of those kriffing garbage-ball nightmares, but that's not new. What IS new is that he's not the only one.

(Or, a self-indulgent 5 9 chapter fic inspired by Snapback by @toomanyteefs with Fives, because I have emotions about this and he deserves the world!)

Crosshair awoke with a start, gasping for breath, horrible visions burning behind his eyes, again. The lights switched on and he winced at the sudden brightness of it all. 

“Crosshair! Are you alright? You’re here with us, it’s okay!” Omega was saying. He registered she was holding his hands tight in her own, and as his breathing slowed, he realized more people were hovering overhead. Hunter, Tech, and Howzer. Of course. 

He groaned. He had woken them up and gotten them all worried about him for no reason.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Hunter asked.

He glared down at the bunk and tried to ignore the pain in his brother's tone. It wasn’t Hunter’s fault he couldn’t protect Crosshair from something like this, but that wouldn’t stop his brother from trying to blame himself for it anyways. “Yes,” He spat. There wasn’t much use in lying about it, Hunter would be able to tell. He was sweaty, there was a cold pit in his stomach and the images from the nightmare were still fresh in his head. The eerie laboratory, the stasis chamber, Echo - 

Echo! Crosshair jerked upright and shoved Hunter out of his way.

“Easy Cross-”

But Crosshair ignored him, it was stupid but he had to see, had to know his brother was okay! That particular lab didn’t normally haunt Crosshair like this, but others definitely had. Wat Tambor had worn that same cold, calculating, cruel expression as Nala Se always did when he fiddled with those machines, issuing commands that made Echo thrash and writhe in that karking stasis chamber! Crosshair had been as powerless to stop him from torturing the ARC as he was against Nala Se all those years ago. He hated it. He hated feeling that way, hated feeling small and helpless against horrible people like them, hated seeing his brothers in that kind of pain!

Across the room Echo stared back at Crosshair with wide, shining eyes and a very wet face. Wrecker sat with him, an arm wrapped tight around his shoulders. 

Crosshair swallowed hard. “Is Echo okay?” He asked sarcastically, but despite his effort, the words came out weak.

“I’ll be alright,” Echo sighed. “Just a nightmare. Probably nothing like yours if you’ve got that thing again.”

Crosshair looked down at his hand. He hadn’t even registered the silver garbage ball clutched in it at first, but he rolled his eyes and chucked it hard across the room. “I doubt that.”

Full Chapter (And Story!): Osik Dreams and Sentimental Regs

[tarnishedspark]

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

🌪️Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.

All the things? Okay, all the things. ill put in a show more because Long

Unpublished fic summary:

Drift's story is diverted by a visit from multiverse-hopping Cloud Universe Deadlock who shows him his future in the form of the Drift comics, and implies that he'll be killed by the djd if he becomes Drift again. Turns out he kills the DJD instead.

Snippet from a WIP:

enjoy some sparkeater skywarp

Skywarp dropped the empty husk of the vehicon as the glow of a fusion cannon lit up his field of vision and reflected off the energon spread across his hands, plating and slithering tendril lines. "Hey Megs," Skywarp greeted, a note of fear slipping into the familiar greeting, "This isn't what it looks like." He slowly raised his hands in surrender, keeping them in view. The briefest glimmer of confusion touched the disgust on his leader's visage. "You mean to convince me that one of my most valuable officers has not become a creature of lesser bots' nightmares, as you are kneel here drenched in the lifeblood of one of your subordinates, the picture of a creature of tales of yore, having consumed your victim's very spark?" Megatron replied. "Okay maybe it is what it looks like," Skywarp conceded.  Megatron's laughter boomed through the small meetingroom space. His fusion cannon powered down. Everyone else behind him shuffled uncomfortably.

Favourite piece of dialogue from WIP:

Somethin from the next chapter of Gladiator Hours . Definitely spoilers.

Ravage sniffed around them some more. "What <em>is</em> that smell? I can hardly get any of your scent past it." "Scented oil." "Oh, la-di-da mister fancy bot." "Oil: was free." "I guess a city bot like you can't go around smelling like actual garbage forever. What would your fellow fancy job bots think?" "Soundwave: gladiator," Soundwave huffed again. The gladiator pits were hardly anyplace fancy, let alone pleasant smelling. "Smell: irrelevant. Better than anyone else without scented oil."  Ravage looked up into his visor with a mischievous glint in his optics. "Not content to <em>smell like a warrior</em>, then?" Of <em>course</em> Ravage had heard about that. Why <em>wouldn't</em> his embarrassment have been spread to the furthest corners of the planet, to be known even by those who had been expelled from civilisation.

Something angsty from your WIP

hmmm probably Too spoilersy to take smth from Gladiator Hours again here. Let's pick out a different one... Oh yes, this one is slmost 100% angst. Working title "grounded"

He stopped before the large door. Megatron's quarters had remained empty since their leader's demise. Soundwave doubted anyone had entered. Likely no one even knew they could. Soundwave palmed open the door and engaged the lock behind him. Within, the room was untouched. It could have been any other day he came to spend time with the warlord, were it not for the darked lights and the eerie emptiness. Soundwave climbed up on the berth, a large space that felt cold and exposed, and clutching a large pillow close curled in on himself. His best friend was gone. Laserbeak was far away, living a new life. All he had left were the few remaining frayed threads of the Cause. He didn't know if they were even worth holding onto.

Something soft/fluffy from your WIP:

you have No Idea how hard it was to find a bit I've actually written already, i think i went through every wip. have some cyberverse Soundwave x hot rod, featuring a song by Aerosmith

It was a long transport trip Soundwave was taking him on. At some point Hot Rod fell into recharge, stretched across an entire bank of plush seating. It was the most comfortable he had been in longer than he could remember. When he awoke he found Soundwave sitting opposite him, watching with an intensity that only Soundwave could manage. From Soundwave's speakers, an Earth song was quietly playing. 🎵Don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby, And I don't want to miss a thing🎵 Hot Rod blinked. 🎵'Cause even when I dream of you, The sweetest dream will never do, I'd still miss you baby, And I don't want to miss a thing🎵 "Aww, you missed me too?" Hot Rod asked, sitting up excitedly. The music cut off with a startled record scratch. "Of course not," Soundwave replied dismissively. A contradictory squawk came from the cockpit. "Perhaps a bit," Soundwave conceded, shuffling his feet nervously. Hot Rod grinned. He didn't know how much he had needed to hear that until he did.

Something romantic/hot or sweet:

okay we're going with this for "hot" because i have spent so long looking for snippets already this will do

Starscream was left with a scene of carnage and limbs. Soundwave moved amongst it all, his data cables extended and their claws ripping savagely at targets Starscream was sure the mech couldn't even see. His broad arms deflected blows and blaster fire alike as he moved and dodged and weaved expertly through the fray. ::Stay down:: Soundwave commed, casting a pointed glance in his direction. Starscream's wings raised indignantly, but he quickly pulled them back down again as blaster fire passed close overhead. The next thing he knew, Soundwave was ontop of him. Deft digits passed across his frame, checking for injuries. While Soundwave had effectively cleared the nearby area, Starscream was anxious not to be caught by surprise again. Raising one arm, he fired one of his rockets into the throng of enemy forces. The Autobots exploded in an eruption of flame and light. Finding only the scorch mark on his wing and a few scrapes and dents from the crash, Soundwave pulled Starscream to his feet. Perhaps it was the thrill of battle, or the buzz of energon in his lines, but Starscream couldn't help notice the rise of charge in his frame as he brushed up against the communications chief. This absolute beast of a mech who handled him with such care. That was something he would have to address later.

Something funny/cracky:

Earthspark post- season 1 Shockwave is just here now too.

"Mrrr,” Shockwave rumbled. A cow lowed in refurn. "Mrro." Shockwave mooed. "Hey Shockwave, what're you doing?" Thrash questioned, watching the scientist skeptical. "I am attempting to decipher these creatures' language." Shockwave replied, listening intently to the sounds the herd made. "You mean we'll be able to tell what Fluffyears is saying? That's so exciting!" Hashtag declared, popping up out of seemingly nowhere, "What are they saying right now? How long until <em>we</em> can learn to speak cow too?" "It may take some time. They do not appear to have a defined sentence structure."

A fic concept:

Star trek: the motion picture crossover with transformers. The planet Voyager went to was Cybertron. Crossover with the rest of star trek. Make Shockwave and Spock meet and make them tell eachother they're being illogical. I don't know what would happen here but I am sure there is fun to be had.

sum up a wip with tropes/ao3 tags:

oh this is the part i am Worst at. Luckily I've started putting these at the top of my documents as I think of them to make it a bit easier when it gets to posting time. I have an earthspark soundwave/swindle wip here with the following listed: developing relationship, annoyance to lovers, Swindle being Swindle

phew that took A While

[bereft-of-frogs]

is friday. have a list.

reading:

(finished) Notes on an Execution - Danya Kukafka: Still excellent, still thinking about the ending

(in-progress) The Great Transition - Nick Fuller Goggins: I got this from the person who runs the horror book club I go to. The blurb compared it to Station Eleven, perilously high praise, but I'm weirdly enjoying it. Weirdly because I was afraid the structure would get annoying and weirdly because it's doing a bunch of things I usually find annoying but I'm not annoyed? I think it's because even though there's a lot of social justice themes, it never really feels like the characters are lecturing at the reader. Like there have been some scenes where characters are lecturing other characters - but so far they've all felt like they were more about revealing about the characters and their relationships rather than being like 'see, I know about solidarity, look how good a person I am!' I also really like that the exposition is being given through one of the POV characters (a high school student)'s essays, which have comments from her teacher and the comments are all PERFECT - and sure enough the author's day job is as a teacher. XD

(finished) Light of the Jedi - Charles Soule: still not my favorite, but it does pick up once you get past the first part. I think the narration of that action goes on for a bit too long and doesn't leave much space to take in the characters or setting because so much is happening, one thing after another. But, as I said last week, infinitely better than doomscrolling

(in-progress) Into the Dark - Claudia Gray: Ok the thing about Light is that I didn't really care about any of the deaths in it....until this book made me care. I think Gray is just a little bit more adept at character writing, I really started to fall in love with the High Republic and its characters in this book. I am sad though, given I'm probably going to have to skip Midnight Horizon to avoid getting derailed again, this might be where Reath and I part ways. I ended up loving Reath so much! But alas! Midnight Horizon was not my cup of tea, so I will have to say farewell.

(in-progress) Lord of the Rights chapter-a-day reread: Pelennor Fields today. DEAAAATTTHHH!!!!

watching (tv):

(finished) Silo (Apple TV): WHY am I still thinking about that finale?? why was that so good? WHEN is season 2 coming out?

(in-progress, rewatch) Altered Carbon (Netflix): to stop myself from just watching dumb commentary youtube videos while I'm cooking/eating dinner/etc I started rewatching Altered Carbon and damn it's just so good. I'm almost finished with the first season, I know the second is controversial/isn't quite as good but I still enjoyed it so will continue on

I'm in kind of a hangover post-Silo for the show I watch as part of my bedtime routine. I watched 2 episodes of Foundation and precisely 30 minutes of Severance before I fell asleep last night (I was just really tired because a certain Void Creature had me up at 5AM, not Severance's fault), so idk which I'm going to continue on with. Probably Severance, I'll get back to Foundation eventually.

watching (film):

The Strangers (2008): That scene where Liv Tyler is smoking in the kitchen and the intruder is standing unseen in the background is my LITERAL NIGHTMARE.

Hell House LLC II: The Abbadon Hotel (2018) and Hell House LLC III: Lake of Fire (2019): This is such a bizarre series because the first is slightly above-average found footage, the fourth is actually surprisingly scary, and the middle two are SUCH hot garbage, but. Completionist. I have seen them all now. The best scene in the third is with the cultists/demons scuttling around and I realized why it makes me laugh, they remind me of the wraiths in What We Do in the Shadows XD

Dune Part 2 (2024) - I SAW DUNE AGAIN IT WAS STILL GOOD. Aside, is Austin Butler in something the Youths (TM) like? Because I only know him from the awful Elvis movie I suffered through last year. The girl selling my ticket was like 'yeah I've seen it twice as an audience member and then I keep going up to the projection room to watch the duel because Austin Butler *heart eyes*' and I was like.....him? Really? Are the kids just horny for Harkonnens? I have questions.

video game update: I'm unstuck on cult of the lamb! I had the run of my life and got past the underwater level, it was great.

craft update: Skein still tangled, don't want to talk about it. But I've finished the short rows on the sweater vest and am onto the repetitive part! The next real milestone will be getting to where it joins the back under the arms, and I no longer have to purl. I can't wait.

weekend list -- just kidding it's a WEEK list because I'm on vacation! (technically I am dogsitting but I'm still taking a week off from work to go hang out with a dog, so that counts as vacation):

focus up to get through the workday. friends, it is 11AM and that is not going well, let me tell you

go for a run

pack / tidy up apartment so I don't come back to wreckage

non-writing things to do while at parents' house:

many walks! dog cuddles!

try out their fancy peloton thing, see what this cult thing is all about

knitting - planning to work on sweater vest, despite the fact that it is black and my parents' dog is so, so yellow... (she's a yellow lab)

laundry. so much laundry. everything that is in my apartment that can be put in a washing machine, is being brought. We've got sheets, we've got towels, bath mats, etc etc. My parents are paying me for dogsitting services in water usage.

read: I'm bringing 3 books I took out of the library yesterday which seems...ambitious...but maybe doable if I-

--don't scroll. seriously. I've blocked so many things, if I can just stick to occasionally checking my tumblr dash and maybe pinterest once in a while, I can get so much else done

writing to-do:

main project: longfic I am tentatively calling 'the station' (probably will change but this is at least better than my last working title which made no sense so I'm keeping it for now), I have 25k in a very rough draft, and am on chapter 2 of 12 in the rewrite (about 8k words). (It's probably going to be much longer than 25k, that was essentially just the self-indulgent scenes that came easily, now I'm doing the hard plot work, connecting scenes, etc, trying to go roughly in order so I don't have to do another full draft.)

start on the final part of 'omens and all kinds of signs': ideally finish a rough draft but we'll see, I have not started it at all, but I know it will feel good to finish it, if I can get some of the pieces together, that would be great

rough draft of the third variation on the tattoo theme (I have...900 words so far)

rough draft of an alternative POV to an already posted fic that's just an excuse to be shamelessly self-indulgent (I have ?? words scribbled in a notebook about it)

[closingwaters]

PARTIES: @stainedglasstruth @closingwaters

SUMMARY: Arden finds Teagan sleepwalking and helps her back to the Wormmates' apartment.

TIMING: Last Night

WARNINGS: Mentions of Parental Death and Sibling Death

There was blood. It pooled underneath the closet door, then began seeping from the ceiling and to the walls. Teagan—at least a younger version of herself sunk into herself, covering her ears as the piercing sounds of her family’s screams began to reach her ears. She could see stars behind her tightly shut eyes, the lights fading when she slowly crept them open. The scene changed completely, jarring Teagan into a small panic. 

Looking left and right, she tried to find some sort of familiarity in the green. The woods should’ve been more welcoming, but everything was dark and looming, screaming at Teagan to make her exit. For a few moments, she didn’t know where to go. “Mum…?” She called out quietly, knowing she wasn’t loud enough for anyone to actually hear. 

“Efa…!” Once again, Teagan called out for someone. Her voice was nothing but a croak, echoing ethereally through the trees. That’s when it clicked…she was dreaming again, and she couldn’t force herself awake. She wondered where she would end up that time around as she wandered in the dreamy woods. Would it be a bridge again? Would it be downtown? How far could she go in her sleep? Teagan hoped she wasn’t walking about at all, that she actually stayed in bed. But dreams didn’t come true, and she was in a nightmare realm. She just had to wait until the claws unlatched themselves and let her wake up in whatever strange place her feet wandered her to. 

It was the weekend, and Arden had wanted a drink. As odd as it still felt, The Wormhole had quickly become her go to drink spot since moving to Worm Row. As much as things had changed, they also seemed to stay exactly the fucking same. 

She called it at two drinks, not trying to get wasted, just to get a nice buzz going. She had a chat with the bartender and wrote half of a terrible poem, and then she was out, stepping into the cool night air. If the town didn’t smell like fucking garbage, it would’ve been such a pleasant night, but as it was, Arden was hurrying to get home. Or she was, she was until she caught sight of a familiar face. Was that…

“Teagan?” she called, walking over to the woman. It was surprising to see her in this neighborhood, especially at such a late hour. As she got closer, though, she noticed something was off. Was she barefoot? What the fuck? Brows furrowed, she quickened her pace toward Teagan, who hadn’t reacted whatsoever to the sound of her name or to Arden’s presence. She stood in front of the fae, confusion clear on her face as she noticed the blank look on her face. Was she okay? Were those …pajamas? 

Christ, she was sleepwalking. Had she really walked from her home all the way over here? While asleep? The dirt on her feet indicated that, yes, she had done exactly that. Arden had never interacted with anyone who was sleepwalking before, but she’d heard it was bad to wake them. She had no idea if that was actually true. Fuck, okay. 

She took off the jean jacket she was wearing, putting it over Teagan’s bare shoulders. She’d been walking for god knows how long in just a tank top and some sweatpants, she definitely needed the jacket more than Arden. She was going to try to gently lead the woman back to her apartment when she called out first for her mother, then for Efa? Probably not a good dream, then, knowing what had happened to Teagan’s family.

Fuck it. 

Hands on her shoulders, Arden gently tried to shake her awake. “Teagan? Hey, can you hear me?”

Teagan could’ve sworn she heard her name. It echoed, amplifying as it bounced in the confines of her nightmare. No longer did trees surround the nix. Instead, she saw the hanged clothes in that ever familiar closet. Her gait paused, and her breathing became shallow and quick. It was happening again. Teagan began to panic, tears rolling down her face just as the blood began to pool at her feet. 

Again, her name echoed, and then another voice took shape. Arden’s voice. Now, that was strange. Arden wasn’t supposed to be there in any capacity. Not only did Teagan not know her in youth, but there was no way she’d let herself into the fae’s home without invitation. Was she walking again? 

Was she—another scream cut through her thoughts, and Teagan searched for a way out, but the walls were closing in. “No…please…” Teagan choked on her words, feeling the squeeze of the walls on her shoulders. She yelped out a fearful whine, trembling as she gasped into the physical world. Eyes widened with shock at the sight of Arden, and she jumped back, falling onto the hard ground. The sudden jolt sprung her gills and claws to shift, and she was left panting on the concrete. 

“W-where am I?”

Oh, fuck. Maybe she should’ve followed the advice of not trying to wake a sleepwalker. 

Tears began to roll down Teagan’s face as her breathing quickened and Arden felt the panic rising in her chest. She was bad with crying. She hated crying herself, and she never knew how to handle it with others, and, while she didn’t know the details, she knew that Teagan had dealt with more tragedy than Arden could ever imagine. And she was crying again. Fuck. 

Her heart broke a little, hearing the choked plea and pained sounds the other woman was making. Arden was a moment away from pulling her into a hug when she let out a gasp and appeared to wake with a startle. She didn’t have a chance to try and catch her, she was sprawled out on her ass before Arden could move. And, she continued not to move as the fall seemed to change the woman, the fae as she was reminded, her nails turning razor sharp and were those gills? 

She looked around, making sure they were alone on the street, before pushing that to the side for now and kneeling down. “You’re in Worm Row,” she said, picking up her fallen jacket and putting it back over her shoulders, mostly covering up what definitely seemed to be gills. Later. “Not too far from the Wormhole and my apartment, actually. Are you okay?”

Worm Row? How in the hell had she gotten herself to Worm Row? Heart raced when Arden’s features came into focus. She looked worried and scared, and for what? A woman she hardly knew? For Teagan? The nix almost scoffed at the idea, but she was too enamored with the expression on Arden’s face to let the sound come to fruition. 

“I’m…I’m…I don’t know. I want to say I’m okay, but I don’t know. Not hurt physically. But I’m…I’m…” Fates, Teagan didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t stop the wave of tears from breaking through. They streamed down her cheeks, and she was quick to wipe away as many tears as possible. Teagan detested crying in front of others. Hell, she could count on one hand how many people had seen her cry, and most of them weren’t even alive anymore. Fates, she wanted to hide. 

“Can…can we go to your apartment? I-I don’t want to be out here.” Teagan tightened the jacket around her shoulders, unable to stop trembling. “Please.” 

Oh no. Arden’s anxiety shot up, seeing Teagan fighting back tears that fell regardless. Her hands twitched, feeling like she should reach out, but not wanting to overstep. When they had gone for coffee, she had tried to brush off the teary moment, and she, understandably, seemed to try to avoid talking about her family as much as possible. So Arden really didn’t know how to handle this. 

It was a little bit of a relief when she asked to go to the apartment, honestly. She could do that. Plus, she really needed to get the nix inside before anyone else noticed that she had claws and gills. “Yeah, of course,” Arden got to her feet and offered Teagan a hand up. “Let’s get you inside. Just… watch where you’re walking, okay? We don’t want you stepping on anything sharp.”

With a swallow and a few deep breaths, the gills managed to retract, giving Teagan a more human appearance. Her claws, however, wouldn’t quite shift back to normal. This would usually be fine considering how proud Teagan was to be a nix, but she was out in the open, for anyone—even a hunter, to see. One wrong move and she could expose what she was. Time was of the essence. 

“Okay.” Teagan gave Arden a curt nod, careful with her webbed claws so as to not hurt her friend. Her eyes gave a silent thank you, and she rose to her feet, still holding onto Arden’s hand. Teagan wasn’t one for such affections. It was too intimate for someone like her. But she needed it at that moment, and it had been so long since she last had any sort of touch that wasn’t a means to an end. Because for as much as she craved it, Teagan knew it was one of her weaknesses. So to keep herself strong, she starved herself, never allowing herself to actually consume her desires in any way. At least, until that moment. Teagan was too fragile to deny any longer. Her control was wavering. 

“Is this…okay?” Her eyes searched Arden’s and she gave her pitiful excuse. It wasn’t even a lie. Just…a good cover. “Need to hide my claws. You know,” Teagan looked around, spotting a stranger in the distance, “Just in case.”

To Arden’s amazement, she watched the gills just disappear after Teagan took a few steadying breaths. She would have missed it if she wasn’t so close, so focused on the other, but she was, and she saw the magic as it happened. It was one thing to know that there was magic in the world, but seeing it? That was such a vastly different, mind-boggling other thing. 

Her claws didn’t seem to be retracting into something slightly more human and dull, so Arden appreciated the careful way she grabbed onto her. She shivered as the wickedly sharp nails ghosted over her skin. Teagan could, without a doubt, kill her with great ease, however, she was nothing but gentle, and she had been since they met. It was absolutely stupid and so incredibly reckless of her to put so much trust in this woman who was still basically a stranger, but her instincts had kept her alive thus far, and for whatever reason she felt like she could trust the fae. And besides, she clearly needed some support right now. 

Arden nodded, trying to give her a comforting smile. Even if Teagan hadn’t asked, she had intended on holding her hand until the other woman pulled away. She didn’t know how to best deal with tears or when she had last held hands with someone, but the least she could do was give her that small amount of comfort, keep her grounded as she led them back to the apartment. “Yeah, it’s okay.” 

“Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Teagan rarely let anyone take control. Hell, she found herself on top so often that she wondered if she was meant to be a roof. She probably wouldn’t be a very good one. With how often she cried in the comfort of solitude, Teagan knew she’d be damaged and leaky. Not much good. As always. It should’ve bothered her to come to such a conclusion, but what did it matter? 

Once again, she had found herself in a situation of her own making that required she relied on another. It was only a matter of time until Arden cut herself on the shards that made up Teagan. After that night, she knew it may be time to cut her losses and run. Put up that familiar wall to protect Arden from whatever danger the nix may cause. Until then, Teagan would appreciate the time left and memorize the hand in hers, likely prolonging the inevitable so that she may get to pretend just a little longer. How could she not? She was awfully selfish. 

“You have roommates, right? Will they ask questions? I saw one when I took my leave last time. Didn’t say a word since I rushed out, but I don’t know. What if—” Teagan realized she was nervously rambling and put a stop to it, brows wrinkling together with embarrassment. “Sorry.” She averted her gaze from Arden, opting to stare at the ground as they walked instead. “I’ll get cleaned up and leave as soon as possible. Don’t want to bother you too long. Enough of a problem as it is.” Teagan chuckled dryly and worried her lip, swallowing thickly past the ball in her throat. No longer was she the confident flirt. That facade was gone. She was just Teagan. A broken image with missing pieces. 

“How much longer?”

Arden kept quiet as they walked, not knowing what to say or if she should say anything at all. She kept sneaking worried glances at Teagan. She had mentioned having night terrors, but nothing about sleepwalking. Was this new? Had it happened before? How the fuck had she managed to walk so far while sleeping?

They were getting close to the apartment when Teagan finally broke the silence, though her words only made Arden that much more concerned. She could relate to feeling like a burden. “My roommates are some of the nicest people I’ve met, you don’t have to worry about them,” she reassured her. She had seriously lucked out in that department. “The worst they’d do is tease me about bringing someone home,” she grinned, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

She checked around them before pulling them to a stop for a moment. Looking into her eyes, she tried to convey her sincerity. “Teagan, you really don’t have to apologize. You’re not bothering me, and you’re not a problem, okay?” Arden gave her hand a squeeze, trying to offer her a bit of reassurance or comfort. “I’m not gonna kick you out, especially not after you’ve had such a rough night. You’re free to use the shower and borrow some clothes, and you’re welcome to stay. Or I can drive you home, if you’d prefer.” The last thing she wanted was for her to have to make the trek back to Darkling Lake in the middle of the night. 

“Just another block.”

Truthfully, after what happened, being a person never came easy to Teagan. She was always too emotional, or too in her head. Always thinking ahead. Hoping for the best, and instead of preparing for the worst, she expected it. This, and she never realized she was her own enemy, the cause of her own sabotage. But who else would protect people from her? How would anyone else know to watch out for her? 

Aside from her obvious ability to kill with ease, Teagan knew she was too broken to love properly, or to be loved properly. Anyone who got to close would cut themselves on the shards. It was only a matter of time until Arden did. She was too sweet for that. Even one cut would be too much. But fates…she was so selfish. She wanted desperately to pretend she wouldn’t wound Arden. It was an internal lie that twisted her stomach as she nodded along to what she was told. Teagan needed to believe they weren’t lies, and she would. Just for that night. 

“Okay,” Teagan let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding it. “I’d…I’d like all of that. The-the clothes, and the shower, and the staying.” Throwing caution to the wind, Teagan trembled her head forward, connecting their foreheads briefly as she fought back tears. When she pulled away, she gave Arden’s hand a squeeze. She looked back in the direction they’d been walking in, then back to Arden again. “Shall we?”

She’d been prepared for Teagan to argue. There was a fieriness to her, a fiercely stubborn and independent side from what Arden could tell, so it was a surprise and likely a testament to how crappy she was feeling that she hadn’t put up any fight. It was also a bit of a relief, to be honest. 

Her heart raced as Teagan leaned forward. She hadn’t expected her to press her forehead tp Arden’s, but the gesture felt so much more intimate than a kiss it left her a little flustered. There was a slight discomfort, too, a feeling that had her heart racing for an entirely different reason, and she had to fight the urge to pull away. She wasn’t used to this sort of intimacy, it frightened her, and that had led to the downfall of her previous relationship. But Arden did care about Teagan, and she was seeking this sort of comfort tonight, she could put her discomfort to the side for a moment. “You’ve got it, then.”

When she finally pulled away, Arden gave her a smile. “We shall.” 

It wasn’t long before they were making their way into the building. Shooting a glance to Emilio’s door, she checked to make sure the hunter was nowhere around as they passed and made their way to the door of the wormmates’ apartment. She let them in, grateful to find that no one hanging around the shared spaces. It was a bit late for that, she supposed. 

Arden immediately felt better once they got to her room. Teagan was okay, and they had made it without being seen– mission accomplished. Throwing her bag down, she made a beeline for the closet and pulled out an extra towel. “For you. And feel free to raid my closet for a change, I guess? I think we’re a pretty similar size, so that shouldn’t really be an issue.” She was bad at eyeing that kind of shit.

There was a tension that arose when their foreheads touched. A hidden reluctance and a subtle twinge of movement that stuttered. It caused a twist, a painful bend in Teagan’s chest that forced her back to reality. Right. How could she forget? She wasn't the first choice. Teagan was only a backup plan. Who would want a leaky roof anyway? She understood. 

Sure, Arden cared. It was obvious in her eyes and in the gentle gestures she offered, but Teagan knew it had to be temporary. She’d only ever be left with her wounds. They’d decorate her chest and scream how much damage she’d sustained and how little value she had left. Until then, she’d make her best impression of a person and exist. Take her leave in the morning and set Arden free despite knowing she should’ve just ran off then. As always though, her selfishness won out. 

Just a little longer. She begged the Fates. I can pretend a little longer. 

Everything next was a blur. When the pair entered the apartment and the towel was handed to the nix, she couldn’t prevent a sob from choking out. Teagan just felt so unbearably wretched. It was as if the apology wanted to tumble out right then. It had to. “I’m-I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have done that. Been so close. I get carried away and it isn’t fair. I-um…yeah. I’m sorry.” She sighed, swallowing thickly and hugging the towel close. “It won't happen again.” 

Teagan rushed off before anything else could be said, remembering where the bathroom was from before. The water rushed to life at the turn of the knob, and Teagan jumped in as fast as she could to feel the soothing sensation of water over her skin. The sooner she got herself calm, the better. 

Of course, she had noticed her hesitance. Of course, she had fucked this up. She always did, sooner or later, and this time it hadn’t taken long at all. Teagan had already been hurting, and now she thought she did something wrong because Arden was a fucking mess who panicked whenever anyone got too close. Why was she like this?

It’s not like she didn’t crave intimacy and physical affection so much it physically fucking hurt, so much that seeing Leah and Nicole together made her jealous. Hell, even seeing the platonic relationship between Zack and Wynne set off that bone deep ache sometimes. She couldn’t just be happy for the people she cared about because she couldn’t just be fucking happy. 

…she missed Jo. 

Something brushed against her ankle and she looked down to see Hobbes, Atreyu not far behind. Reaching down, Arden gave him a few scratches behind the ears. “Hi, bud.” A small smile graced her lips as she pet the two cats. Hobbes circled her legs as she stood up and threw on a change of clothes. God, it’d been a fucking night. She wanted to pass out, but she needed to talk to Teagan first– apologize and also find out what the hell was with the sleepwalking. 

Dirt and grime slid off of Teagan’s body, and she watched it swirl down the drain as she sat in the shower. The water bounced on her pale-pink skin, and as soothing as it was, there was still a layer of sting on the surface. Teagan had removed her glamour to let it recharge as she sat in her ache. It felt like she had a slight burn all over her body, and all the water was doing was irritating her skin. It should’ve felt calming and safe, but the look on Arden’s face only served to deepen the sting. 

Teagan supposed this was fine. She couldn’t keep herself in the shower too long anyway. The faster she was done, the faster she could head home so she could stop infringing on Arden’s space. It felt as though she’d already overstayed her welcome. Nothing of the sort had been outwardly said, but Teagan felt she had a knack for sensing such things. Protection? Probably. But she would never delve into that can of worms. 

With her body cleaned, the water was shut off, the curtain was pulled, and Teagan wrapped a towel around herself as she made her way back out to Arden’s bedroom. 

There were two cats. Both hissed at the sight of a humanoid axolotl, but Teagan had yet to realize she hadn’t put her jewelry back on. “Huh. That’s strange. Animals aren’t usually so cross with me upon the first meeting.” She tried to chuckle the ball in her throat away. Her brows furrowed together and she tilted her head curiously, still unaware of her appearance. Well, guess that meant she’d definitely overstayed her welcome. Always a burden, Teagan thought. Panic rose like bile in her throat, and she wanted to see herself out. 

“S-sorry. I messed up. Again.” She searched for the exit, everything a blur behind tear-filled eyes. “I-I-I didn’t realize you had—they don’t usually hiss at me. I’m normally very good with animals. Sorry.” The confident mask seemed to be gone indefinitely, and all Teagan had left was her overapologetic heart and mind. “I don’t have to stay. You can rescind the offer.”

Arden had the itch to write. Flopping onto her bed, she pulled up her notes app as Hobbes took the opportunity to sprawl across her stomach. The thought of a Midas touch, a ruinous touch, the image of poison dripping from fingertips wouldn’t leave her mind. She struggled to find the right words to convey what she was feeling. I am where love goes to die. Okay, edgelord. She absentmindedly gave him pets as she thought. My body is a graveyard, open plots as far as the eye can see. It was something, she supposed. I am a shitty writer and a shittier human being. She forced the app closed and tossed her phone away from her.

She stared up at the ceiling, feeling pathetic, until she heard the telltale creak in the floorboards. Before she could sit up, Hobbes was hopping off her stomach to crouch beside her, hackles raised. Her eyebrows shot up as he hissed; she had heard Hobbes hiss maybe once or twice ever. He was typically friendly to the point of being annoying, begging for pets and attention. She could hear Atreyu hissing from somewhere on the floor, too. “What the fuck, Hob?” She asked her cat, sitting up. 

Glancing up at her visitor, she froze. Oh. It wasn’t just gills and claws now, this was– This was Teagan. In her true form. It was still obviously her, she had the same blonde hair and beautifully mismatched eyes, but her skin was a pale pink and framing her face, sticking out from her damp hair, were the pink external gills of an axolotl. And was that a tail?

It was always difficult for Arden to truly conceptualize the fact that there were strange and magical beings in this world. She had grown up obsessed with the fantastical worlds of the books she read, she’d spent countless hours imagining the adventures in far away lands filled with mythical creatures and impossible obstacles. It had turned her world upside down, learning that the things she had considered just fantasy were actually real. No matter how many books and notes she devoured in the Scribes’ library, it was always just so surreal. She was lucky she hadn’t had many encounters with the supernatural forces she spent studying; there was so much out there that could so very easily destroy her fragile human body. But her lack of experience had made it that much more impossible for the truth to fully sink in. 

But Teagan was standing in her bedroom looking like some kind of fucking mermaid so very incredibly obviously not human. It was a little terrifying and exciting, and Arden’s brain was shortcircuiting trying to accept the fact that what she was seeing was, in fact, real and that the incredible being in front of her was the same woman she had gotten coffee with and slept with and found sleepwalking tonight. That was certainly her voice coming out of the mouth full of very pointy looking teeth. 

She still sounded so fragile, and while Arden noticed it and wanted to do something about that, she was still having a bit of a moment. “I– Uhm–” she gulped. “You’re– You’re beautiful.” 

Jesus fucking christ, Arden. Could she not be a homosexual for two minutes, please?!

“It’s your glamour,” she explains, finally able to string words together instead of gaping at Teagan like an idiot. “And, no. Stay.” It sounded both too forceful and too much like a plea. “If you want. You should stay.”

Teagan was always told by her mother that if she wasn’t careful with her own heart, someone else would break it. So she hid it away. Ripped it out of herself and stuffed it into a concrete box that no one could get to. Not even herself. Even under all that rock, Teagan could feel her heart bending impossibly. But this time, it was out of pure joy that Arden had found her true form something to marvel at. Of course she was beautiful. Teagan never doubted her beauty, but there was something that always struck a nerve when someone looked at her with terror when that wasn’t her goal. She didn’t always want to feel like a monster. Sometimes all Teagan ever wanted was to feel like she could be anything other than what she turned out to be. 

She wanted to take shape into something that wasn’t a monster kids screamed about when they had nightmares. Because Teagan had nightmares too. Monsters could be many things, and most of the time, they looked like ordinary people. The ones anyone would least suspect when they passed them on the street. Teagan wanted to believe she could be one of them, but she constantly noted how fake it all felt. Her stomach was constantly in knots over the lie. 

That moment, though? It became fact. Arden deemed the nix beautiful in spite of how her cat reacted, and all but pleaded for Teagan to stay. “Only if you’re sure.” She worried her lip and looked at her claws. The towel fell with nothing no longer holding it, and there was no rush to pick it up. There wasn’t really anything to be seen. If there was, Teagan was never one to worry about nudity, and it wouldn’t have been anything Arden hadn’t seen before. Still, this wasn’t Teagan’s home, she was a guest. How she presented herself needed to be at the host’s comfort level. 

“I’ll get my glamour if you need me to. It won’t last very long since it needs to recharge, but I can wear it as long as possible.” Stepping carefully closer, Teagan pointed at the spot next to Arden, silently requesting if she could sit. “Most people go off running unless they’re fae.” She smiled wanly. “You’re a funny one.” She sat down, dorsal fin curling behind her as she turned her hand over to offer to Arden. “I appreciate the compliment. You’re quite beautiful yourself.” It was a sincere compliment. Not that it hadn’t been before. There were just no underlying flirtations, no walls to keep Teagan from being intimate. 

The explanation and compliment seemed to calm her a little. At the very least, she didn’t look like she was a second away from bursting into tears, and that was a relief.

“I’m sure,” Arden nodded. “You’ve had a long night.” She definitely blushed as Teagan let the towel fall to the floor, and she looked away, embarrassed at her reaction. Seeing the fae’s true form had entirely thrown her for a loop, and right now she was oh so very far from the cool and collected facade she always strove for. 

Hobbes was still standing on the bed in front of her, ears back and fur puffed, so she tried to calm both of them, running a hand through his fur as she willed her pulse to chill the hell out for a minute. “No, it’s okay. I just might need to kick the cats out if they don’t behave,” she said pointedly to her little gremlin. He seemed to be calming down somewhat. She wasn’t sure where Atreyu was, but he’d probably run out of the room as soon as possible. As Teagan moved closer, Hobbes began to tense up again, but she just kept giving him scritches, and he slowly relaxed. 

Arden chuckled at being called a funny one. Maybe she was. There was a fucking faerie in her room, a naked faerie no less. But she was the same person who had let her out of the promise bind and cried at the mention of home and said sugar father. She was the same person who Arden had grown to care for, who had gone through something horrible, and seemed to really need a friend these days. So, with her free hand– she wanted one on Hobbes until he could be trusted because the bastard was a biter– she took Teagan’s hand. 

It was even more surreal seeing her so close, feeling just how different her skin felt. The blush that she had been getting under control flared up at the compliment. “Ah, than–” she caught herself before she could finish the sentence. Arden closed her eyes and hung her head, a smile on her face. “Goddammit, I keep doing that,” she laughed. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she turned to Teagan. “How are you feeling?”

A teary grin tugged at the fae’s cheeks, sharp teeth on full display without any of the sinister energy they usually had. In fact, they might as well have been dull what with how lilac dusted over Teagan’s cheeks. That was jarring, to say the least. She was usually causing the blushing, had already done it considering the pink painted on Arden’s face. 

“It takes some getting used to…cariad. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Teagan squeezed Arden’s hand, looking away as the topic steered back to her. It was impossible to keep her mask on, to keep herself at the high standard of independence she had set. Teagan was completely disarmed, and she didn’t have the energy to mend that. Fates, lying was so human, but sometimes she wished she could fib even a little.

“Not feeling too great, I’m afraid. Feel like a right child. Always do when this month comes ‘round. You can…c-can probably gather why.” Not willing to jump fully into the topic quite yet, Teagan shifted the focus to the adorable cat on Arden’s lap. She feigned a smile, clicking her tongue to get his attention. “Hob, was it? He’s a good lad, protecting his mum and all. I’m not offended. I look like a lake monster. Well…” Teagan chuckled, shaking her head and finally locking eyes with Arden again. “To most. Didn’t take you for the type, but I’m not displeased. Makes me like you a bit more, in fact.” She elbowed Arden playfully, trying to keep everything light for as long as possible. 

Sadly though, everything had an end, and Teagan’s sorrow slowly trickled back in. She sighed, “I want to be okay, truly. It’s late, and it feels so unfair to put you in the middle. I should owe you for everything you’ve done, and I do. I owe you a favor.”

The dark pink flush stood out on her pale skin, almost the same color as the external gills that fanned out around her face. It really felt like Arden was dreaming every time she looked at Teagan to find that she was still in her bed, still looking like nothing she had ever seen before in her entire life. And calling her some sort of Welsh nickname? What even was her life right now?

It was clear she didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but was she saying this sleepwalking was something that just happened sometimes? Was this some strange fae thing that Arden had never heard about? No, if that were the case, a lot of people would be affected, and that would be noticeable… right? 

She wished she had a better understanding of the fae, but it was probably wise of them not to trust humans. She loved being involved with the Scribes and the amount of information it gave her access to, but, well, knowledge was power, and they sure knew a lot about the supernatural. It would only take a few people with negative intentions for things to turn very bad. 

Perking up at the mention of her gremlin, Arden smiled. “Hobbes. The name’s from a comic strip I read with my dad growing up. The character’s named for a philosopher, though– not that that’s really relevant. He’s usually friendly, a bit of an attention whore, really,” she laughed. “I’m sure he’ll warm up to you pretty quickly.” Hopefully.

The teasing combined with the locked eyes, it was too much, she felt the heat rising to her cheeks yet again, that fluttery, anxious feeling in her stomach. It was ridiculous how flustered she was getting tonight; she could just picture Zack’s shit eating grin in her mind’s eye. She could lie face down on her bed and groan into her pillow about how she was a useless idiot tomorrow. She would. 

But now, Teagan needed to be reassured, “you really don’t owe me anything, it’s okay. I was out, and I happened upon you, and I’m glad I did. I don’t exactly love the thought of you wandering around Wicked’s Rest of all places in the middle of the night while you’re not even conscious of what you’re doing.” Arden looked her in the eyes as she kept talking. “We haven’t known each other very long, but I like you; you’re sweet, empathetic, you’ve got a good sense of humor, and I feel like we’re kind of similar in some ways. So, you know, if I can help in any way, even if it’s just letting you crash here or something, I’d like to.” She squeezed her hand for emphasis. 

“You mentioned something about this month– does this– has this happened before?”

Teagan was getting a glimpse into Arden’s world with just the name of her cat. Hobbes. A character she read about with her father. The more time she spent with the woman, the more she was endeared to each small trait and mannerism. Arden rambled and went on tangents, a testament to how much went on in that head of hers. “Do you like philosophy? Did your father? Is that why you like to write?” Teagan wondered a million things, but there was one question that stood out for a moment. How much of those rambled thoughts were filled with pain? Banshees spoke of Fate and balance, as did her mother. For every piece of matter, action, thought, or what have you, there was something equal and opposite. 

Like with Hobbes. Obviously he was a great delight to Arden, bringing her joy and humorous frustration, but perhaps he was a reminder of what she lost too. But isn’t that bittersweet? All that untapped love Arden has for her father. She packed a piece of it up and gave it to her cat, marking him with something both sorrowful and joyful. The love could continue to spread. Teagan didn’t think she could ever do that. All she did was cause pain and destruction. It was all she was good at, no matter how much she pretended. The mask never lasted. One’s nature could only be suppressed for small spurts at a time. She hoped it would last the rest of the night. Arden deserved that much. 

“I…like you too.” Teagan chuckled, it was a short and dry thing. Humor almost all but lost in it. “Wait until you get to know me. I’m not always so sweet.” There was a reason her family didn’t talk to her. But who needs them? Who needs her? They were safer without Teagan around. Everyone was. “But I want to be, you know? Sweet. And you’re right—we’re a bit similar. Think it’s why it’s so easy to be kind to you. Same pains, but you actually deserve the kindness. You care and you have a beautiful heart. I’ve only seen a glimpse, but Fates…” Teagan blinked, realizing just how intense her gaze had gotten. “Sorry. Always been too forward and honest. Rambly too. Another thing in common.” She smiled sheepishly, giving Arden’s hand a careful stroke with her thumb. Ever mindful of her claws. She was the last person Teagan wanted to hurt. “But—all this to say, I’d help you any way I can, too.” She added emphasis in her own way, kissing Arden’s cheek and nodding her head while she collected her thoughts for the next subject. 

“Um…yes. This-this has happened before. Happens every year, actually.” Pausing, Teagan rubbed the back of her neck to buy herself some time. Many people had found Teagan sleepwalking over the years, but she never stuck around to explain why. Arden was the first, and as nerve-wracking as it was, she was at least easy to trust. “Ever since what happened with my family—well, you see…I-um…I was there when it happened. When they were killed. It’s lived with me since.” Her head fell and her hands began to tremble. “So now, every year, I’m like this. I know, it’s pathetic, but I can’t stop it. The night terrors are worse and I'm always running and trying to save them, but I can’t.” A shaky sigh escaped Teagan. “It passes once the day’s over with. Mostly. Their anniversary is the twenty-first.”

She wasn’t expecting the questions, but the way they spilled out of Teagan made her think that she was genuinely interested in hearing the answers. It was also an easier topic than the one they were skirting around. “I suppose so? I’ve never properly studied it, but it’s interesting to think about life and the nature of people and the world we live in, our purpose, the existence of an afterlife. It’s interesting to hear a person’s thoughts on those subjects. I know my dad had some books on the subject– he was a big reader, my mom, too– and he made his thoughts known on ethics and free thinking and the importance of art, in his actions and his parenting.” Arden’s smile was entirely soft and fond. “He was brilliant and so incredibly kind.” 

“The writing came from my love of reading, I guess. That, and we’d make up stories to tell each other. He always spun some wild, fantastical story, but I eventually realized he’d just been telling me an overexaggerated version of the truth. Tales of these undead beings and people who could turn into animals, fairies and fire breathing dogs and the like. He had a soft spot for the cryptids, too.” The tank top she’d thrown on meant her Tendrilla tattoo was in plain view, though she didn’t know if Teagan had familiarized herself with the town’s cryptids.

You care and you have a beautiful heart. I’ve only seen a glimpse, but Fates…

Between the words and the gentleness of her touch and the way she was looking at her– it was too much. It was everything Arden wanted, everything she was terrified of, and it brought tears to her eyes that she was determined to not let fall. She huffed out a laugh when Teagan called her out on her rambling. Clearing her throat, she tried to rid herself of the lump that had appeared. “Thank you,” she murmured as the fae pressed a kiss to her cheeks. “You deserve kindness, too. No one is good all of the time, what matters is that you try– my dad’s philosophy.”

They sat for a moment, both trying to pull themselves together, before Teagan finally addressed the question that had been on her mind since she’d found her tonight. And just broke Arden’s  heart. “Oh, Teagan, I am so sorry,” she breathed. She wasn’t a big hugger, but she didn’t hesitate to pull the other into her arms. “It’s not pathetic, okay? You went through something so horrible, and that’s traumatizing. Your body’s just trying to deal with it as best as it’s able.” She ran a hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her to the best of her ability. “Do– do you manage to get outside like tonight often, too?”

Arden’s father sounded a lot like Catrin. Brilliant and incredibly kind, with ideals that matched the golden core of their heart. The way she spoke of him made Teagan’s chest squeeze, and she wanted to learn more. To listen and watch the reverence take over Arden’s every feature. The pain was evident, but it truly seemed as if her fondness of her father was winning over. At least right then. Teagan even found herself smiling. It was a small, tired thing, but it was a smile nonetheless. 

“Can you show me some of your writing sometime?” Teagan searched Arden’s anxious eyes, eventually tearing her gaze away to look at their intertwined hands. They both needed the break. Especially with how Arden’s gratitude slipped out into her speech. “And I release you, silly.” Teagan’s eyes scanned back up to her companion’s face, again catching a glimpse of the tattoos she’d seen before. They hovered for a breath or two, memorizing every line in the cats, the typewriter, and some other thing that Teagan couldn’t quite decipher. 

Her attention eventually snapped away at the philosophy of trying, and the nix finally registered the tears collecting in Arden’s eyes. “You’re much too pretty to cry.” Carefully and with a crooked, playful smile, Teagan wiped a tear just as it crept over the precipice. She tried to lighten the energy, to no avail, but the next thing she knew, she was in a tight embrace. 

When was the last time she’d been hugged? Truly hugged, where the intentions weren’t sensual or in the middle of messing up a bed? Teagan didn’t know, to be quite honest. She ran away well before anyone had the chance to even think about hugging her. This time though, she was stuck in place, unable to tear herself away. She sank into Arden, exhaustion seeming to finally take over after decades of holding the entirety of her sorrow’s weight on her own. Tears broke through and her body shook despite being soothed by the affections. With all the tears, she was unable to say much more than a croak that sounded a little like a “Yes,” at Arden’s question, and then a crumbling apology just as she managed to finally stop. She didn’t even bother pulling away, appreciating how soothing it was to let herself be. 

“Maybe we should get some rest.”

Arden blinked, brought out of her reverie by Teagan’s question. “Oh, sure. I mean, my articles are all online, so you can see those whenever.” It felt like she might be asking to see something more personal, though, which… If she were honest, it’d be a lot easier to go back and recite poetry in front of the crowds of strangers at Masque of the Red Eye than it would to show her personal writing to someone she knew. Her poetry was full of all the raw emotions she desperately wanted to hide from others, and her prose was so messy, the characters all had pieces of her in them, the plot was nonexistent, it just wasn’t at a point where she felt comfortable showing anyone. Though, she didn’t know if there would ever come a point where she did. Zack didn’t like to show off his art either, she wondered what that said about them.

She hadn’t even noticed her slip up this time, goddammit. Arden was lucky Teagan was nice and apparently liked her. She wasn’t lucky enough for her tears to go unnoticed, however. Another chuckle escaped her at that line. It was some ungodly hour of the night, she was having a very emotional conversation with a nix who looked like an axolotl, and said nix was still being smooth as hell despite both of their teary eyes. Seriously, what was her life right now? She could almost laugh, but Teagan…

The way she melted into her embrace in the exact way Arden always yearned to do, the way she hadn’t since maybe her father’s funeral, it brought up a wave of emotions she couldn’t entirely decipher. 

Teagan fell apart a little, and she just held her through it, heart aching for the other. She’d been there while her family was slaughtered by hunters, Arden couldn’t even begin to imagine the depths of her pain, and it seemed like she had been carrying it all on her own for years. Falling apart was justified. Arden was just happy she could offer some sort of comfort, be a safe place where she could let her guard down even a little.

Her attention had been fully on the fae for a while now, so she didn’t notice Hobbes creeping toward them until he was close. He approached the fae cautiously, and Arden kept her eyes locked on him, uncertain of his intentions. But he just sniffed the fae, and eventually, very cautiously, rubbed his face against her side. It made her heart melt a little. 

She liked to pick on him because, god, he could be such a pain in the ass, but he was a good cat. He always offered her comfort when she was upset and crying, and he seemed to be doing the same with Teagan. He was getting so many treats in the morning. 

When the tears came to an end with an apology, Arden just shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” She continued to hold her, and she would until Teagan pulled away, but sleep did sound like a good idea. She was fucking drained, and she wasn’t even the one who had been dealing with so many emotions, she could only imagine how the fae was faring. “Might be a good idea, you sound exhausted.”

“I’ll have a look-see at the articles sometime then.” Teagan took a deep breath, letting her eyes flutter shut. The warmth of the moment combined with the actual warmth emanating from Arden in the embrace, made it all too easy to let the weight pin her eyes for a few beats. Before Teagan could let herself drift though, she slowly tugged herself away. 

“You sound exhausted too.” She scooted back an inch, bumping into Hobbes slightly just as he rubbed his head against Teagan. A small squeak escaped her, excitement filling her at the breakthrough. “Look who’s come around.” Humming, she softly scratched Hobbes’s chin, a purr vibrating in his throat. His eyes squinted with joy, and Teagan felt bad when she had to stop to redirect her focus back to Arden. He looked a bit miffed, nipping at the fae slightly to get her scratches to return. It was all for naught. The human in front of the nix had her full attention. 

“Where should I sleep? I can make the floor comfy. Wouldn’t mind either.” For once, Teagan wasn’t looking to hide under the sheets with a woman to help her ride out the pain. Her eyes were the softest they’d been in a while, and her voice was sincere. “You’re a good person, Arden. I’m glad we met.” Planting another kiss to the woman’s cheek, Teagan stood up languidly, legs a tad wobbly from the exhaustion.

“Good night, then?”

A large smile overtook her at the absolutely delighted sound Teagan made as the calico gave her some affection. It was such an odd sight, watching the nix with her cat– Arden wasn’t sure she would ever get used to seeing the fantastical and magical beings that existed in this world– but it was endearing nonetheless. It was nice to see her smile, too, especially after the night they’d had. 

She rolled her eyes playfully. Like she would actually let her sleep on the fucking floor. “We’ve literally had sex, like, you can sleep in my bed, Teagan,” she smiled. Before she could stand, Arden grabbed her wrist, tugging her back. “I’m definitely not letting you sleep on the floor when there’s a perfectly functional bed with room for two.”

The joking smile turned soft at the woman’s words. “I’m glad we met, too, and, for the record, I do think you’re a good person.”

Her eyes were heavy as she moved to one side of the bed, fishing her phone out of the mess of sheets and making sure to turn off any notifications. She was going to sleep in tomorrow, so help her, god– or Fates, as the fae had said. She’d have to ask her about that sometime. After turning off the lights, Arden turned to face her, pressing a kiss to her cheek in return. “Goodnight, Teagan.”

[wily-one24]

Weird asks: 1, 20, 34, 43, 46

Here we go!!

Who is/are your comfort character(s)?

Hahahaha. Ok. Well. I guess it depends upon the show i'm watching at the time, doesn't it? I mean, I have favourites in all my shows, but my absolute comfort characters, whom I love and invest in...

Veronica Mars, Emma Swan, Samantha Waters, Olivia Benson, Kaylee Frye, Buffy Summers, Jane Rizzoli, Cordelia Chase.

I have previously stated that I have a type and that type is emotionally damaged but hella strong women who are somewhat lackadaisical when it comes to their own personal safety when it comes to solving a case/getting justice (all of the above women fall into this, except perhaps Kaylee Frye, but she is my 'happy face/light in the darkness' lady, all the rest are my 'strength will rise up from the ashes like a pheonix' ladies).

I have many other faves and likes, however, you can pretty much narrow it down to who I have written fic for. These are my comfort characters, because fic IS my comfort. I have so much free therapy because of fic. I've pretty much written that post before (years ago, I would have to hunt it down) about what each major fic in my life was allegorical to... and I probably don't even WANT to know what my SVU fics are trying to break through in my brain, BUT, when I need comfort, this is where I turn.

Edit to add: Hunted!!

Go here to get a rundown on some self therapy in my major fics.

And here for a more in depth analysis of Paint It Black (question 11).

20. Do you say soda or pop?

No. Neither. I'm Australian. I say "Soft drink". Soda or pop? Pfft, get jumped on. It's SOFT DRINK. I mean, if you're feeling really old fashioned you can say 'Fizzy drink", but nobody really does. Soft drink, thank you.

34. Is there a song you know every word to by heart?

Buah hahahahahaha. Like, I think the easier question to ask there is "is there a song you DON'T know every word to by heart?"

I have a few Spotify playlists, my biggest one is called "Sing Loud", it has 114 songs on it, 6 1/2 hours worth, and I know every single word. Because I *DO* sing loud. And, also, it's worth noting that that is not my entire mind's playlist of favourite songs. Just the ones I sing loudly to. I have full musicals I can sing the entire lyrics to, musical episodes of my favourite tv I sing along to, entire ALBUMS from the 90s that I listed to on my Discman to and from Uni on the train...

OBVIOUSLY, I know most Sheryl Crow songs by heart (at least those pre 2010, I haven't really caught up to her new stuff yet), gimme a bunch of Sarah McLachlan, the Whitlams, No Doubt, Madonna, Machine Gun Fellatio, Garbage... anything from the 90s, a BUNCH of stuff from the 80s. I also like heaps of things from the 70s and some from the 60s, some from 2000 onwards as well. My taste is rather eclectic.

You don't quite know the range of eclectic until someone on the train watches fascinated as you take Rob Zombie out of your Discman and swap it for Sarah McLachlan. I got some *weird* looks.

My brain is very lyrically inclined and I remember so many words to so many songs, it's insane. If I like a song, I will listen to it over and over again until I get the lyrics right. Which, I have to say is so much easier NOW than it was back in the 80s, when you had to hover around your stereo so you could press play/record simultaneously the second your favourite song came on the radio just so you could have a copy...

But, yeah, once I like a song and I've heard it a few times, those lyrics are BURNED into my brain forever. That's why so many of my fics are song titles. Paint It Black, Memory Cloud, Wicked Game, Foolish Game, The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares), The White Room, Hybrid Lives, Silver and Cold, Spoonful of Sugar, Breaking the GIrl... etc... and those are just off the top of my head. This is why I used to vid, decades ago.

43. What’s your take on spicy foods?

There's a take? I like somewhat spicy foods.

I do not like stupidly spicy foods, to the point that it hurts and you can't breathe and it's basically a competition of how much you can hurt yourself to win... that's not fun for me.

But I do like a bit of kick. I like spicy thai curries, and mexican chillis, and jalepenos, something that doesn't necessarily want to kill you, but does bite back a little.

I am sensible with my spice level.

46. Favorite holiday film?

TBH, I'm not really sure I have one.

I mean, Die Hard is always a Christmas Classic, I guess? I'm not really one to sit around and watch a Christmas movie or... is there such a thing as an Easter movie? A Queen's Birthday movie? Ramadan? The Melbourne Cup? I don't really know.

(Well, there's probably a few movies about the Melbourne Cup, now that I think about it).

I'm not against them, per se, like if there was a movie on and it looked interesting and it was the holiday times and happened to focus on that holiday, I'm not going to turn it off, but I'm not going to seek out that specific movie.

The only real special holiday thing I watch each year... might be the Carols By Candlelight on Christmas Eve and the New Year's Eve Countdown, but those are not necessarily movies. They're not. One is a concert and one is... well... a countdown retrospective of the year and some fireworks.

I guess the Christmas movies always seemed a little too... faked for me. Maybe it was all the happy families (so fake) or the overly twee messages (please) ... maybe it was all the fucking snow and over the top decorations that seem to be uniquely American.

I don't think I've EVER seen a Christmas movie that represents what I know as Christmas, in the middle of summer in Australia.

@dahllaz

[herbmessiah]

Whumptober #9 - A Living Nightmare

October 9th - Obsession

The shade of the forest canopy was a bulwark from the relentless heat of the sun. This day, this whole summer, has been much hotter than any previous summer in living memory. A strapping young woman with dark wavy hair and sunkissed skin marched through the brush, her sand colored trousers snatching to a bushel of burs. She cursed and yanked at the pesky branch, the plant eventually relenting but not without leaving several dozen burs behind. She clicked her tongue in frustration, picking at the damnable things as she pressed forward.

A few exasperating moments passed before the familiar sound of gently rolling water graced her ears, a soft smile crossing her lightly freckled face. The young woman ducked through a gap in the brush to meet a softly babbling creek. She sat upon the grassy ledge at the bank and removed her cumbersome boots, rolling the cuff of her pants to her knee and slowly dipping her feet into the cooling waters. 

Once submerged she let out a great sigh, the tension of her muscles slowly escaping with her breath. She leaned back on her hands, rolling her head about her shoulders to stretch the tightness from her neck. The girl let her head hang back, gazing without focus towards the roof of leaves as soft golden light seeped through the gaps. Another hard and long day of work said and done. Every day was hard. It was hard to tend to the summer’s crops, to keep the animals fed, to fix up the old house. Things weren’t so bad when her father and older brother were still here, but they left a long time ago; off to serve their king and defend their home or some other garbage like that.

She missed them both, unbelievably so, but she knows if she ever sees them again she’d pummel them both into the grave, if they aren’t already buried. Now it was just her, her mother and younger brother. This was one of the rare few moments she could get to herself, where she didn’t need to worry about the work that needed to be done.

She moved a hand to her thigh, reminding herself of the loathsome parasites that clung to her legs. She sighed again as she began to pluck at them once more, tossing them into the creek and watching them float away. Her mind began to drift along with them as she pecked at the remaining burs, thinking once more about her father and brother. How long has it been? A year? 3 years? No… did they ever come back?

Ever come back? She thought the question to herself strange, but a creeping unease began to sit in her chest. It was probably nothing, she wasn’t a stranger to fits of panic, so she closed her eyes while slowly breathing, in and out, like her older brother taught her. She thought of the things that made her feel at ease: the creek, her mother’s cooking, the barn cats, her brothers…

Her brothers… what did they look like again? She squeezed her eyes and tried to focus on their faces, but a mist began to form in her mind. Was their hair dark like hers? Does one of them have a scar on their cheek? Their eyes were… eyes… She could see two pairs of eyes through the fog. Eyes that she did not recognize. Eyes as clouded over as the mist. Eyes of the dead.

Her own eyes opened in a panic. Something was wrong. The world around her felt colder, the golden light of the sun had given way to the blackening night as a thick fog had settled in the forest around her. The trees were now barren husks, the creek rushing like blood as the water began to rise. The young woman tore her feet from the freezing brook and hastily shoved them into her boots. The panic in her chest had now become a tight grip on her heart and lungs.

A snap of twigs and branches came from behind her, not too far from where she stood. This feeling was all too familiar, but her racing mind couldn't remember why. She shouted at the interloper and warned them to stay away from her, though she could not see where they were. The darkness and the mist about her grew thick as the bite of frost began to nip at her fingers and toes.

Through the gap that she crossed she could see it. The creature. Two piercing, soulless eyes staring at her with dark inky tendrils lashing about like living vines creeping through the bush. She tried to scream, but no noise escaped her mouth. All she could do was try to run, so she twisted towards the stream, the water now frozen over. She tried to run but the creature snatched her right leg as she crashed onto the icy surface, her jaw cracking against it. Pain crackled like lightning as a gash began to flow with a rush of blood.

The inky devil held fast to her boot as she thrashed and kicked, managing to slip her foot from the boot, pushing herself up from the ice. She ran for the other edge of the creek, the ice beneath her exposed foot tearing into the skin like broken teeth. The other end seemed to grow further and further away from her, disappearing into the thick fog. Her lungs were burning for air, as the blood on her face began to freeze.

She had to stop. She needed to stop. She couldn’t breathe anymore. She began to cough uncontrollably as a fresh bout of tears ran down her reddened face. Lavender clouds expelled themselves with each heave, transforming the milky fog about her into a hazy purple. Something began to crawl out of her lungs and up her throat. It dug through her flesh, and with a violent shudder white tendrils burst from her mouth, thrashing about wildly.

The mass of tendrils inside her lungs began to dig through her body like parasitic nerves. The pain was unreal, like she had been set ablaze and couldn’t die. She tried to pull the thriving mass from her mouth, but pulling the tendrils only made them longer. The girl fell to her knees, trying to scream and begging for death. 

The frigid air was eating at her extremities, she could no longer feel her own body, save for the writhing roots digging through her organs. Then, as if to answer her prayers, the creature lurched from the fog once again, those dead eyes gazing at the twitching host before it. It raised a single tendril, slowly and deliberately leveling it at the girl’s right eye. She tried to speak, to beg for death, but no air would move through her lungs. The malicious entity slowly dug its tentacle underneath her eye, wriggling and squirming, as if it were trying to inflict as much pain as it could. 

The girl could feel it moving behind her eye and scraping against her skull, the agony of it all too great to bare. She slumped in defeat, and at that exact moment she felt the tendril of the monster wrap around the nerve of her eye, ripping it out of the socket. Another burst of roots exploded from within, filling the void where her eye once was. Her brain could no longer process the pain she was feeling, the vision in her surviving eye began to blur and fade. She could feel another black tendril against her forehead, pressing against her slightly. A violent shove, she fell back onto the ice, her head crunching—

—

The wanderer shot up from her lying position, screaming into bandaged hands as she grasped at the back of her head. She could breathe again. Fresh air filled her lungs as she began to weep. 

Pain shot through her leg, her jaw felt swollen, and a bandage was wrapped around her right eye. Was it all a dream? She did not know. Nor did she recognize the place she was in. Her vision was blurry, blinded by tears, but she could make out the soft orange glow of a fire, feeling its kiss touch her frigid skin. 

Several footsteps moved about the house, clunking around with a hurried pace. The alarmed woman rubbed at her eye, trying to clear her sight. A wooden door opposite from where she lay swung open, two dark figures standing at the threshold. The wanderer grasped at her blankets as dread renewed itself in her chest. She saw two sets of eyes staring back at her as she backed up against a wall and fresh tears began to stream once again. One of the figures moved, exposing themselves to the light of the fire…

An older woman with a worried and kindly face looked back at the wanderer, her soft blue eyes complimenting a smile and wrinkling crows feet. She wore a simple earthy-green tunic, her long and dirty blonde hair tied in a large braid that hung over her shoulder. A burly man stepped in a moment after, his gruff looking face sporting a long dark beard with bands gray. His garb was similar to the woman’s with a brownish-red color. His eyes were emerald green with prominent wrinkles, betraying his rough exterior with a hint of mischief.

“It’s okay dear” the woman’s voice was soft and deep, “you’re safe now.”

The wanderer stared at them for a moment, steadying her breath. Her vision began to blur once more as a wave of relief and exhaustion washed over her. She laid her head back down on the bed, a soft and feathery pillow greeting her; though tired beyond belief she kept her eye fixated on the couple. Her vision grew dark once more, the last thing she saw were the bright and living eyes of the couple before her, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

[bellsofblueficlets]

In Choice, And Its Lacking

How long had it been since they'd been in one place for longer than an instant? Gyre swallowed hard, staring at the monolith of corregated steel that stood before him.

According to the demon, they'd been trapped for sixteen months now. Sixteen months without real ground, without a sky, without light or even genuine sound. Sixteen months in a place where none of these were necessary to see, or hear, or stand. Sixteen months, and already there were days when he couldn't remember what it felt like, living any other way.

Sure, it was just a garbage can, but it was a garbage can that existed outside their self contained little prison. In it's own way, it was proof that the outside worlds still existed- maybe, even proof they could still be reached.

Soot crouched to one side, eyes narrowed as he took in the change to their surroundings. He couldn't really blame the dust for his wariness, the vortex prison was probably the first place he'd ever felt anything like safety, or peace-

-then again, it could just be the fact that the outside world looked like a roughly sketched outline, against a very faintly staticed background. Compared to the two of them, it looked nothing like real. Almost more like a memory that someone attempted transcribing by pencil.

His gaze flicked to the side, where the scattered debris of the pavement was only faintly visible, and only to roughly a foot and a half away. Beyond this, the world fell into what he could only think to call background noise, a sense of existence without form, or substance.

It wasn't enough, not yet. But it was progress, just the same.

Their prison was the equivilent of an out of phase, ten ton cannonball through reality, traveling about a thousand times faster than a bullet train between both places and worlds. Keeping it anchored this way made as much sense as mooring a barge with chewing gum and yarn, and yet... here they were.

...for a little while longer at least. He was hard pressed to hold the place, tentacles winding and wisping far past where they 'should,' and knew he'd need to let go soon. Just... not yet. Not yet.

His dusty is eyeing the pizza box, and though still his expression offered no change, it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. There could be food there, even just a little. Fuck, even crumbs, smears of dried sauce, or bits of cheese that stuck to the sides- It was so *close.*

Soot looks back at him, waiting for orders, and Gyre grimaces, shaking his head. "Can't," He mutters, "We're not as close as it looks." He reaches one tentacle towards the thing, by way of demonstration, and it gives way, reshaping like mist around the appendage. At least it seems to, though from it's place, he doubt anything has changed. Either way, the bits of 'mist' re-converge, and it's like he never made the attempt at all.

Another bitty might have been disappointed. Not his dust. Soot nods, just the smallest trace, still not moving from his spot. He'd been told not to budge, so he wasn't budging.

"Time to go," Gyre mutters, as he feels exhaustion start to grip its talons more deeply. It had taken a lot to reach this point, and while the progress was gratifying, they had a long way to go still. For now, he let's his hold slip, and like dust under a light breeze, reality beyond their prison is whisked away, and into nothing.

Funny, it's almost reassuring somehow. Like something had been off, being anchored that way, and now it was right again. That can't *possibly* suggest additional problems to worry about later, *no...*

Soot says nothing about the lost chance of a meal, just sitting down, and gazing at a point of nothing in the distance. When Gyre had first suggested meditation, Soot's reaction had been... predictable. The nightmare was met with an utterly flat look, the kind typically given someone insisting that it was only polite to introduce yourself properly to the nice fae fellow in the forest, or to invite the friendly neighborhood vampire in for a warm drink.

He'd gone along with the suggestion anyway, and from time to time, he'd even close his eyes. It was still strange to see, to be honest? But he was reaching a new normal of sorts, and his emotions reflected it, so it seemed to Gyre like the meditation might be helping.

One member of their party had been ominously silent through all of this, and Gyre couldn't help but wonder what it thought. He didn't ask, of course. There was no need, since-

{...I think you're hopeless,} It mutters, the undercurrent of frustration and annoyance in no way hidden, {I can't believe I'm stuck here with you. Out of one prison, and right into another.}

-since that.

Beyond a noncommittal grunt, Gyre doesn't answer, just rotating his shoulders, and stretching, lying down near Soot to let the other keep his back. The effort had taken a lot out of him, and nothing more would happen without rest.

---

Sleep offered the troubled nightmare no respite. No sooner had his senses begun to drift than something else began to fill them, cloying, sticky, bitter, and dark.

He'd had nightmares before, since his mage's death, he knew them all too well, a ravening darkness, all hungry teeth and greedy claws. This though, it swallowed him whole, like a careless stone, tossed into an endless black sea...

...and something else began to fill his senses, quickly eclipsing him in his own troubled sleep. It forms like a memory. Reliving... something.

There are opaque white walls, painful to the touch, with a lingering sharpness that spreads like poison, one lingered long after drawing away. The liquid touch of...something... runs slowly down the barrier that held it in, winding a path of wretched magic that trickled slowly down the walls before rejoining it's body.

It hurt... Stars, it hurt... But it was also the only stimulation its prison offered, and it was long, long used to the pain...

The being slowly shuffles the withered husks of soul inside it, as though rolling a handful of shells between its fingers. It's newest master will join them soon. It looks forward to it. It hates her. It hates all of them.

Even now, struggling for her final breaths, she takes from it. Desperate to avoid what awaits her. The feeling only makes it hate her more, keeping the memory of what she'd done to it fresh in it's mind. It feels as though its heart's blood is pulled from it, endlessly. Violating, horrible, wrong. Emptying. Eternally emptying. Helpless. It's powerless to stop her. To stop any of them.

But it can wait. It can-

---

Something takes hold of the lingering traces of Gyre's awareness, and *pulls,* forcefully dredging him up from the suffocating darkness. Dizzy, disoriented, he offers no struggle as he's drawn free, a lingering rawness left in his consciousness from everything he'd experienced.

A deep growl fills him, and despite not thinking he was the one growling, it feels like his own. Slowly coming back to himself, he first becomes aware of the sketch-like existence around them, and for a moment the lack of color, of sound, is terrible and wrong.

Squeezing his socket shut again, he's certain somehow that the feeling will pass, and slowly, it does, his own magic gradually filling in the gaps for him. He doesn't have to open his socket again to see Soot, warily crouched at a distance, watching him. Or, watching *something.*

The growl continues, but this time Gyre is certain it isn't him. With a deep, shuddering breath, he pushes himself up onto his hands, taking a moment more before opening his socket, and looking around. Briefly he sees what seems to be more than one version of their prison, each trying to superimpose over the other...

Then the moment passes, and the glimpse is gone. His sense of self slowly rights itself, and he sits up, sighing, rubbing the heel of his palm against a dull throbbing in his temple. That was miserable. He'd like to never do that again, please.

Slowly, the growl subsides, until what he sits in again can only be called silence.

{...I hate you.} The demon finally mutters, a familiar sentiment, if not quite as seething as he remembers.

"...I know." He hadn't, mind. He certainly hadn't expected the demon to like him, but- that hate. That deep, all encompassing, all consuming hate. It had become all the demon had to hold onto, and the reminder of the only satisfaction it would gain. And sometimes, it must have been all it had to remind it that the rest of anything existed at all.

Near complete sensory deprivation for so long. It must have-

The growl returns, interrupting his thoughts. {I don't need your pity, *smudge.*}

"Do you see me offering it?" Gyre's words are tired, and again the growl fades, albeit more slowly. "I can recognize you went through hell, and recognize it hurt. That doesn't make me suddenly see you as some hapless victim of the multiverses."

"You're part of an empath now," He mutters, rubbing his temple again, "Time to learn the difference between pitying someone, and acknowledging their pain."

The growl fades again, leaving him once more with the silence of his own mind, only broken by a muttered, {Idiot,} though it *maybe* lacked some of the venom of before.

A noncommittal grunt from the nightmare bitty, finally lifting his head to regard Soot again. The human dust bitty still watches, position unchanged, sharp eyed, with a simmering undercurrent of wariness. Gyre gives an absent wave with his fingers, barely a gesture. "I'm fine. You can stand down now."

Soot... obliges. Slowly. He doesn't sit though, watching for an extended moment more, before pacing a brief distance away, and seemed to be deliberately looking anywhere but the nightmare, as though letting the other bitty compose himself again.

Said other bitty appreciated it. He was still a little shaken, to be honest, not just by having sat in the demon's memory- that was rough, definitely- but specifically remembering just how much suffering it had been waiting for the chance to inflict on its 'master.'

It must have had his mage for hours...

Too, he remembered that feeling of being taken from. It had felt so wrong. So emptying, but like emptying something that could never truly empty. It was... cruel. Horribly cruel. No amount of power justified that. Had Rantrum...?

He didn't want to think about it. It made his bad socket hurt, like memory, like tears, trying to fall from a shattered socket, and a dead eyelight. He rubs the spot, gingerly, but there was no salving the pain of an injury that didn't exist anymore.

Giving up, he drops his hand, his shoulders slumping. Assuming Rantrum had... Then what?

{...It surprises you. Still. Your precious mage served me your soul on a silver platter, and it still surprises you he'd add to the suffering of a demon, as well.} Rather than disgusted, or angry, it just sounds... what? Incredulous. That's the word. Its tone is thick with it.

Gyre doesn't answer. He doesn't have an answer that the other will find satisfying, that it won't mock him for, he knows that. He knows what it looks like. He has no reason to doubt that everything the demon has told him was true. His own memories line up with it, even!

But he still believes in his mage. He knew Rantrum. Loved- *loves* him, and somehow, he's certain that his biggie had good reason for... all of this.

...Somehow.

{You... really are an idiot.} No fire this time. No venom. Rather, something almost... sad. Almost envious. As if it wished that it could believe in people like that too. {No, don't read into it,} This, added with a bit of annoyace. {I just feel sorry for you. Trust that blind only leads to one thing.}

"Imprisoned in a non place more concept than reality, unable to escape, with an assassin for company, and a demon digesting my soul while I fail to starve to death?" He asks dryly, unable to resist the trace of amusement to his tone- gallow's humor though it might be.

{Never assume things can't get worse,} The demon mutters. Beyond this? It seems to have nothing else to say.

...The nightmare bitty isn't sure that isn't worse.

---

{You're not trying hard enough,} The demon admonishes, impatience in the tone that filled his mind. {You have almost no experience manipulating magic without resorting to sigils and circles, and fumbling around blindly is taking too long.}

Gyre growls, opening his socket, as though to glare at the demon that isn't there. "I'd think you'd be used to cages by now," He mutters, a low blow, he knows, but how long is he supposed to let the creature goad him? He'd been struggling for hours to gain a grasp of the prison again-

{Days,} The demon corrects, a new ice to its tone. {And yes, thank you, I'm very used to prisons. And very ready to be done with them.}

Days? Gyre's retort falls to ash on his tongue, and he stares at nothing for a moment, finally rubbing the soreness between his sockets, gingerly. The demon was right. With the impermanence of the place, his ability to scribe, glyph, or rune was nonexistent, which left him scrabbling to learn a new way to magic, without book or instruction or anything.

If he was being honest, even the fact that he'd managed to pull them to a stop for as long as he had was probably more fluke then skill- Or at least he hadn't been able to repeat it.

"What is it you expect, exactly?" He asks finally, the words thick with an exhaustion that at least made more sense now. "I'm an apprentice. I hadn't even been an apprentice for six years yet when I wound paired with you-"

{'Wound up,'} The demon echoes faintly, amused or annoyed, it was hard to tell which.

The nightmare bitty ignores him, continuing the thought. "Remind me, how long are mages usually apprenticed for? Ten years? Twenty?"

{Fifteen, if you're any good at it,} The demon admits, somewhat grudgingly. {But I guess twenty five is usually the norm.} A moment passes, then another, before, {Not even six? Really?} A low, irritated grunt, no waiting for a reply. {That wastling mage really took his time, didn't he?} For some reason, the demon seems irritated by this. {And then what does he give me? A fucking bitty. And not even properly trained...}

Give it? Its words aren't lost on Gyre, who narrows his gaze as the demon rants and seethes about what he'd been doing all this time, anyway... It doesn't really match the story it'd been telling him, but the nightmare bitty doesn't interrupt. Who knew, he might actually learn somethi-

{Oh, shut up,} The demon grumbles, ending it's tirade abruptly, {You think too damn loud.} A moment of further grumbling, followed by brief silence, and then, almost reluctant curiosity- or, maybe wariness? {What exactly were you hoping to learn?}

"...Why you didn't already know how long I'd apprenticed." The demon wasn't lying about memories, he was certain of it. So why then-?

Silence, for all of an instant, a cold, warning note to its tone, {Just. Shut up.}

"...You asked."

Neither spoke for a whole after this, while Soot sat without a word, gazing at the wall of endless movement that encompassed the length and breadth of their world now.

Something had kept the demon from knowing Rasmus' memories the way it had the others... Or at least kept it from knowing them as well. He now knew too that it didn't want him to know. But why?

{...Get us out of here, and you'll get your answers. Once we're whole, you'll know everything, and we'll both be free."

Free... Freedom to him didn't mean losing himself that way, but it was the best he had to look forward to. He'd made a deal after all... He'd honor it. Even if it meant-

"I'm not trained for this," He agrees grimly, picking up where that part of their conversation had left off. "And complaining isn't going to get us free any faster. So maybe let me concentrate, if you ever want out of here."

This time, the other doesn't answer, maybe surprisingly. Gyre waits a little longer, just in case, but when nothing seems forthcoming he closes his socket again, settles his shoulders, and extends his tentacles-

{You know,} It interjects suddenly, interrupting yet again, {You have a way to hone your skill sitting right there in front of you. You might try using it.}

...Stars take it. Gyre sighs, and just falls backwards, letting his tentacles take the brunt of the 'blow.' "You," He mutters, under his breath, "Are just making this harder."

{Aren't you going to ask what I mean?} Annoyed. Again. Unsurprisingly.

"...No."

The demon goes quiet, and Gyre waits for it's inevitable interruption... protest, insults, annoyance... But this time? They don't come.

---

While his original intention had been to sleep, that had been some hours since. Since sleep, it seemed, had no intention of heeding his call, he watched instead the weird reality above him for some time, sketched and filled in and... strange.

Trying to focus on the lack of detailed surroundings for too long was dizzying though, and eventually his socket closed again. Too often lately, he found himself tired, in a way that wasn't body or magic. He recognized the emotions, understood them. But he wasn't immune to them.

How different he was now, from the excitable passive nightmare bitty he'd once been. What would his mage think of him now?

It's hard to tell how long he stays this way before Soot joins him, the other bitty sitting against his side. Gyre doesn't protest, thinking instead about the demon's suggestion.

A way to hone his skill... He hadn't asked what the demon meant. He didn't need to ask. It's not as if there was much here that he could 'practice' on, and he doubt the demon meant any part of itself, which by association, also meant any part of himself.

What did that leave then, except Soot?

Admittedly, the demon wasn't wrong. Soot would be a way to hone his magic. Hell, with what he'd learned about the other bitty, and everything that had happened since the binding? There was probably no one better he could have practiced on.

The dust bitty had been remade by the demon's magic, and his existence sustained by his own, for months, and in that time, he'd already permanently altered Soot's magic and- Did that count as altering his soul?

No. He knew the answer. Either way, he was more than just 'attuned' to Soot's magic. The other bitty would be a perfect, pliable canvas for him to practice his art with. He likely wouldn't even protest. Maybe that was part of why it felt so wrong? Or, maybe, he just-

The line of thought is broken, dread coiling tightly within the nightmare at a small, out of place sound, so brief, so small, it could have easily been missed, or imagined. A ragged breath... Not his. Instinctively, he holds his breath, listening for the small sound to be repeated.

{Tar drip,} The demon's words strangely serious for once, despite it's wording. {Your dog's sick. Take care of it.}

Any response the nightmare bitty might offer dies before it can reach his tongue, its words sinking in. Sick? What? He sits up, looking around. At first glance, the dust bitty looks fine, just sitting and meditating. He's sitting straight, breathing evenly, eyes still open, looking off at nothing-

Staring off at nothing. It sinks in slowly that Soot hadn't notice Gyre waking up. Had that ever happened before? ...No. He was certain of it.

Well, no good would come of surprising him. "Soot?" The dust turns as Gyre says his name, "What's wrong?" When the other doesn't answer, he pushes to his feet, approaching slowly, ready to back off if needed- or well, dodge. Either one.

...Soot looks away, his fingers curling more tightly, and Gyre's soul sinks. The demon's right. Something's wrong.

The nightmare kneels before his dust, carefully where the other can see him, even half turned away. He does his best to look him over, to see what's wrong. Him bring a human type dust makes this a little harder, but well, Rantrum was human, the same things should apply, right?

He was pale, but that was normal, he was always pale. His lips though, those weren't supposed to be pale, right? Pale lips... Gyre's mouth presses into a thin, worried line.

"Here, let me see your hand."

When Soot doesn't offer it, he hesitates only briefly before reaching it out, and slowly taking it. He has to unfurl the other's fingers to see what he's looking for, and yes, his nails are pale too. Worse, they have almost a tinge of gray to the edges.

Fear swells in the nightmare bitty, pretty sure that's an extremely bad sign. Taking a shaky breath, he reaches out, gently turning the other's face enough to see his eyes. Pupils, dialated. Not fully focused. And his skin felt strangely chilled under the nightmare's hand.

This was bad. This was really bad. They had no access to doctors, no access to vets, and no help was coming. There was only him and the demon.

How long had the dusty been sick? Why hadn't Gyre noticed sooner? "How long?" Is all he asks, his voice gruffer than he means it to be. He's scared. Stars, he's scared.

The dust bitty doesn't answer, only looking at his hand, still held by the nightmare.

...Oh. Belatedly, Gyre frees his hand, to let him talk.

Soot signs, in 'answer,' "Can still follow orders. Will still follow orders."

Gyre just stares for a few seconds, then asks again, more softly, more firmly, "How long, Soot?"

A hesitation, if brief, before signing slowly, "Since... different."

Since...? Oh. The nightmare's essence. This was his fault, then. Starting to reach out, he pauses short of placing his hand over the other's soul, looking for permission before continuing. The slightest, slightest inclination of a nod, and his hand rests against Soot's chest, as he closes his socket.

He worked through it, slowly, carefully, finding the places where magic had gone faint and fragile, or the balance of it was off, or things just felt wrong. His own magic lingering in many of the places thar Soot was worst off, and he realized with a sinking feeling how close the other was to dusting.

For months now, he'd been making sure Soot had the magic he needed, sustaining him, keeping him alive. More than a year. To realize that for maybe most of that time, his dusty had been slowly dying... Not only was his magic sustaining the other bitty at this point, it was literally holding him together.

"I think you left something out," Gyre mutters to the demon, casting about, gently, to try and find a solution. "Maybe about how drawing out that negativity out would end up dusting him?"

{Something was scraped away,} The demon reminds him, its words dull and flat, and devoid of anything like remorse, {In order to make room for something else, something to make him a more useful tool, in it's place. You took away the something else, and now he's less than whole. Is this hard to follow, little nightmare?}

{Well. You took away one part of it.} It amends, as the nightmare tightens his jaw, {Something remains. Just not enough.}

...Right. The killer bitty essence.

Gyre frowns, and begins healing Soot again, thoroughly, slowly, watching the color come back to his skin, watching his breathing even, and his gaze return to something more like normal- Well, normal for him.

He relaxes a little, seeing that. It meant he could keep holding him together, at least for now. To make extra sure of it, he takes his time, making sure to strengthen every last point of weakening magic.

By the time he's done, Soot is breathing steadily, but avoids the nightmare's gaze. Eventually though, he's the one to break the 'silence,' hands tracing the words without a sound. "It wants use me," He signs, each word chosen with slow deliberation. "Make you stronger."

"And?" He doesn't mean to sound irritated, but the words come out close to a growl, just the same.

Even if it wasn't worded as a question, it wasn't exactly hard for Gyre to figure out the question behind the lack of one, and he had no intention of using the other bitty like some personal pet project to twist and tweak until he somehow got this new magic right. "It can want enchanted muffins handspun by cotton candy pixies too, that doesn't mean it's getting it."

The demon snorts, it's amusement returned. {Cotton candy pixies couldn't handspin a decent enchanted muffin if their sweet syrup depended on it. And if I want failed magic, little drip,} It adds, sounding even more amused, {I'll just ask you.}

{...Speaking of which. How long do you think you'll be able to keep holding him together, unless you manage to repair what's been damaged?}

A low growl from Gyre trails to silence, and finally, a sigh. He wanted to blame the demon, but this was his own oversight, his own failing. And now-

Well. It had him exactly where it wanted him, didn't it? If he wanted to fix what had been broken in the dust bitty's magic, he needed greater control over his own magic. Which meant he needed to practice his own magic. And in the end, meant that to save Soot... He needed to use him, in order to practice.

"..." The nightmare closes his socket, bowing his head. "Stronger," He echoes quietly, resigning himself to what needed to be done. "Yes." Strong enough, at least, to heal what had been broken, and maybe even see the dusty free of their prison. He deserved a chance at the freedom that had been stolen from him for so long...

Even if it meant leaving Gyre alone here, with the demon. Forever.

"...I won't force you." Ever. Ever. He would never take that choice away from the dusty again. From his dusty. "If you refuse, I'll find another way. But... it will take lomger." And even then, in the end, there was no one else who could repair the damage done, was there?

The waiting... seemed forever. It wasn't, but guilt wracked him, asking this, so it felt like it just the same.

Finally, the movement of fingers, there in that nothing space, that offered his answer. "Can still follow orders," He signs, and with every word, the weight inside the nightmare bitty only seemed to grow. "Will still follow orders."

And finally, after a pause that might have been too long-

"...Waiting, for orders."

----

[aggressivelyclueless]

fair disclaimer im taking the og fnaf1 on its own at face value for this one. bc it's a standalone game if i say it is and i never kept up on the canon lore. ok? ok. anyways here's night one, might do more subsequently if i feel like it:

The pizzeria, according to most people, was the only place that ranked lower than the Nasty Burger as far as employment options were concerned. The latter certainly lived up to its name; two years prior, Danny had heard the first customer-service horror stories from Valerie: tales of abused bathrooms, white-families-of-five who did not keep track of their children, roving drive-thru karens who had nothing better to do than hold up the line for ten or fifteen minutes at a time, giving the employees (but not the hapless manager on shift) a reprieve at the expense of sending their times through the roof. The Nasty Burger, to Valerie at least, had been a nightmare.

Compared to that? The night job here would be a walk in the park.

He plunked himself into the rolling chair in the back office as the last of the night's cleaning crew were wrapping up in the lobby. The old guard's name-and-password had been scrawled on a faded, crinkling stickynote that had long since quit sticking to the computer under the desk; the thing was ancient, dating back to the nineties or ealier (Tuck would call it retro, but Danny called it a pile of garbage), and took its sweet time booting up.

But then the cameras whined to life, and Danny got his first look around. He saw the employees mopping up in the dining room, rendered in grainy black-and-white, and watched them turn the last of the lights off on the way out to the front door. The evening manager -- a balding, rotund man named Rob -- looked up at the camera through the glass-fronted doors, gave Danny a thumbs-up as the doors were locked for the night, and disappeared into the parking lot along with the employees.

Then Danny was alone. Fine. Six hours? Fine.

No big deal.

He had this one in the bag already. . . even if the old guard had not left him any instructions. He didn't think he'd need them, though: the security position was useless. Probably only mandated by corporate policy because of the animatronics -- and he could not imagine anyone wanting to break in to steal those. He had seen them when he'd come in, each with countless scars and years of pizza grease stains on its skin.

No, the Nasty Burger did not hold a candle to the disgusting caliber of this place.

The answering machine by the telephone began to blink at five minutes past twelve. Danny was not sure if the thing was even capable of ringing, but leaned forward in his chair to hit playback. One of the employees had probably forgotten something and wanted to be let in to grab it back, he thought, even though the front-door-facing camera came up empty.

No, as it turned out: the voice that came through the crackly speaker on the machine was none that Danny had recognized.

"I wanted to record a message for you, to help you get settled in on your first night. I actually worked in that office before you. . . "

Oh, so there was going to be a list of instructions after all. Danny nodded along, leaving his screen tuned to the front doors, thinking that there would be little else to do for the next five hours and fifty-five minutes.

Scratch that: five-hours-and-fifty-four.

He would listen to the recording, at least for as long as he had to -- but he saw it likely that he would turn to the sidescrolling unicorn games on his phone before the hour was over. Hell, by the end of the week, he might even be bringing in his chem homework to finish up.

This was shaping up to be leagues better than punching ghosts all night. He could get used to the quiet, at least.

But the plain, unruffled voice of the former guard went on: ". . . Fazbear Entertainment is not resposible for damage to property or person; upon discovering that damage or death have occurred, a missing person report will be filed. . . "

Wait, death? That struck Danny like a prod to the ribs, and he leaned in a little, frowning. Not that he was tuning out these instructions -- just that he had been skimming through the legalese a little.

But death? For a pizzeria job?

They must have been exaggerating. He had a hard enough time thinking of anyone trying to steal those stupid things, much less kill for them.

". . . blah, blah, blah, now that might sound bad, I know. But there's really nothing to worry about. The animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night. . . "

Quirky? Quirky how? Danny muttered, suddenly wishing he had read the employment contract a little more closely before signing it. They couldn't expect him to take any risk for a job like this, surely?

Ooh, what he should have done (only now, thinking it over in the retrospect of days, it became obvious) was asked Valerie's dad about it. Damon Gray had worked security for a while -- he would have been able to give Danny all the basic advice. He and Valerie were still on okayish terms -- if he called tomorrow and asked about it, would that make it weird?

Maybe. He'd leave it as an option, but he'd only fall back on it if things went -- well, quirky -- tonight.

". . . so remember: these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children, and you need to show them a little respect. Right? Okay. So just be aware -- the characters do tend to wander a bit. . . "

They could do that? No, that couldn't be right. There was no way those things could come off the stage -- could they? The hardware had to be connected to all sorts of things, didn't it? Drive motors and programming hubs and stuff?

Oh, but that wasn't his forte. Admittedly, the field of robotics was mostly beyond him.

It occurred to Danny, somehow for the first time, that there was little way for him to know that this wasn't a first-day prank played by the previous guard, one meant to scare him a little and put him on edge -- or at least to make him pay attention.

Although he swore that he would never later admit it, it was working: he was paying very close attention now, and listening just as intently for sounds of activity from up front as he was to the recording.

But the pizzeria, of course, was deathly silent save for the tinny speaker on the answering machine and the ceaseless whirring of the fan by the left-side door.

So this had to be a prank, then. Not a bad one, Danny thought -- but a prank nonetheless.

". . . they used to be allowed to walk around during the day, too, but then there was the Bite of '87. . . "

Now there was something that could be discredited. Prank achieved. Good one, Former Guard. Danny's hand went to his pocket and fished out his phone; one quick search would bring up results.

Or it wouldn't, which he considered more likely. Lawsuits were a daily occurrence for any major corporation -- but to a small-to-medium entity like the Fazbear Entertainment Company, merely one would strike like a death knell. If anything serious had happened, the pizzeria would have been shut down.

But the first dozen search results all pointed to the same article, printed in a 1987 edition of the papers: Boy, 9, Hospitalised By Animatronic, alongside a crunchy, aged photograph of the culprit, the eponymous Freddy Fazbear.

Danny did not want to read through the article at all -- but he was sure that the bear in the photograph was leering at him.

Quirky, he thought, was not quite cutting it.

All of a sudden, he had a much better guess as to why the position took so long to fill in the first place. Rob had mentioned that it had taken quite a bit to convince the old guard to stay until they had hired his replacement -- but Danny had thought nothing of it until now. He had heard that the place was haunted, of course, but the living said that about a lot of places these days, and when he had walked in he had not felt a thing. Uncanny? Plenty of that, to be sure -- the thousand-yard stare on that bird's face would have made him cry, if he was six or seven.

But haunted? He was not quite convinced yet.

Only now, he was not so unconvinced, either. Some ghosts wasted no time in making themselves known and tormenting the living; others bided theirs, and only came out when they were sure they would be unopposed.

But, Danny found, the article on his phone did not mention that the boy had died, only been hospitalised when that robot had smashed his head in (Face To Face With Freddy, read another headline from another link).

So, by that reasoning: no death, no ghost.

Why, then, were they still programmed to walk around at night?

Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long. . . that smelled a bit like bullshit, but Danny did not have the expertise to dispute it. Tuck would know, though. He'd take one look at the hardware backstage and then start playing with it, rerouting and optimising and tuning up. Maybe later in the week, once Danny was familiar enough with the cameras to know he wouldn't get caught, he might sneak Tuck in for a look.

But for the moment, that did not help him.

So the robots, apparently, could wander around the lobby. Unconventional, uncanny, unadvised -- but they were not dangerous. They set the living on edge, sure, especially in the dark for hours on end (Danny's inherent comfort with the darkness was not shared by most, he knew), but, technically speaking, not dangerous.

Well.

". . . if they happen to see you after-hours, probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll -- they'll most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. . . "

Ah, and there was the other shoe dropping. Danny slid his phone back into his pocket, thinking to get caught up on the details of the place's history tomorrow. The grainy feed from the cameras was still on the lobby doors; he flipped it over to the stage, finding all three of those animatronics standing there, perfectly still, seemingly shut down.

Free roaming mode? How far were they supposed to roam, anyhow? Would they try and walk out the front doors?

Was that why he was here? To stop them, if they wandered into the wrong places?

". . . the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask. . . yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. . . "

No, they did the fuck not.

But Danny didn't think it mattered much. The living had steered clear of this place anyhow, as if on instinct. To most of them, this was a horror story that had practically written itself.

But he -- dead at a moment's notice -- saw it differently.

Still, something didn't add up. Firstly: he didn't think it would be a haunting so much as a possession, and the possessed model would have to be that Freddy. The others? Probably not.

Secondly: the boy that had gotten into the accident had not died. So: no ghost. No ghost, no possession.

Thirdly: no ghost, no chance of any of them getting so much as a glimpse of Danny, if he didn't want them to.

So, really, this was back to piece-of-cake territory, wasn't it?

For an hour, Danny thought so. He left his screen tuned to the mainstage camera, giving it a glance every so often; he kept the two plate-steel doors on the sides of the office open, certain that he'd hear it the moment that any of them stepped off the platform at all. They must have weighed half a ton each -- those footsteps would be unmistakable.

With that settled, back to his phone he went, thinking to fire up that sidescroller -- but the old article was still pulled up and, after a good long look at the stage (where, still, no one had moved), he gave it some closer consideration.

It didn't tell him much that he couldn't guess from the headlines: the boy had landed in the hospital, but as of three-days-after he had not died; the Freddy model was under scrutiny from the corporate technicians although no malfunctions had been found; there would no doubt be a huge hullabaloo in court about the whole ordeal.

No followup articles, though, Danny found. Fazbear Entertainment had gotten lucky with that; negative press went much further in the eighties than it did these days. Maybe he'd do a deeper search tomorrow. Maybe not.

He sighed and leaned back, making the rolling chair creak, and glanced up at the screen again, already bored.

One of the animatronics had gone.

Gone? Danny jolted. Wouldn't he have heard it move? He should have -- those things were huge, they were heavy, they were full of grating servo motors and moving parts. He should have heard it.

But the halls on either side of his office were silent.

"Where did you go, then. . . ?" he muttered, flipping through the feeds on the rest of the cameras. The mainstage; the dining room, with all the chairs pushed under the tables for the night; the storage room backstage, with spare heads and parts strewn about; the kitchen's camera, utterly hatched, probably long since blacked out by whatever radioactive sludge the fryers produced; the halls on either side of the office, empty; the side hall by the bathrooms.

There it was. Duck? Chicken? Thing, Danny concluded, giving it a long, hard look through the camera feed. Its beak was loose and gaping, showing the row of blunted teeth molded into it; its eyes both stared blankly into the camera, although they did not appear to focus. It was decrepit and butt-ugly. Thing seemed to be the most suitable descriptor for it.

He watched it for ten minutes, almost daring it to move. It did not, only stared, mechanically still.

"Go back home, you stupid duck," said Danny, finally panning back to the mainstage camera again. The bathrooms were across the dining room, well away from where his office was: he may not have heard it shuffle up there, but if it started down the hall, there would be no way to miss it.

And if it blundered too close, Danny could vanish from sight in an instant. Whatever wandered in would wander back out, in time. There would be no way for it to know that he was even here.

There was no reason for him to be on edge. No reason at all.

The mainstage camera showed two out of three shapes, neither of them having moved. The rabbit -- it had a name, probably, but damned if Danny cared -- looked disproportionate and somehow too wide, its eyes in shadow and its mouth like a cartoonish muzzle. He could see better in the dark than anyone he knew -- but, through the camera's feed, it did not matter. It was reduced to a fizzling shape, half static where the shadows were too black to make out in any detail.

But the last one -- Freddy himself -- was staring right at him.

Danny stared back, leaning forward on the chair now, his brow furrowed and his face only inches from the screen. He did not blink, only tried to look closer, tried to glean anything he could from the feed. If there was a ghost -- a real one -- he would know instantly.

. . . or he would, if he saw that damnable bear face-to-face. Had it been hiding earlier? Danny had not sensed a thing then.

Maybe, maybe. . .

Then the distant sound from up the right-side hall demanded his attention, and his eyes went to the open doorway. There was a light switch on the door control, but Danny did not need it. The darkness beyond the doorframe was empty, and he rolled his chair over a little and peered out into the hall.

Sure enough: the duck-thing had moved closer, silhouetted by the stuttering fluorescent bulb in the hall and stock-still in the empty space. Danny, startled, disappeared from sight -- but he did not take his eyes off the thing. Through the dark, he could see its face clearly now, gifted with a second set of teeth on the endoskeleton model underneath the mascot's head that it wore. Its eyes rolled to the side, zeroed in on nothing.

As before, he did not see it move.

Go home, Big Yellow, Danny wanted to tell it -- but if he spoke a word, it would know he was there, and he would have a hard enough time trying to keep it from breaking anything if it wandered into his office at all.

So, best to keep quiet, and hope it went away on its own. If it didn't? He could still use the office doors.

Still invisible for the moment (if only to keep up the appearance of the office being empty), Danny went back to the cameras again. One look at Big Bird out there had told him that there was something going on -- that something was pointing to ghost even though it didn't want to show itself yet. But the smell of it was getting stronger; it would only be a matter of time until Danny caught a glimpse of it and could say for sure.

One glimpse of Freddy himself would do it, he thought. Should he go up there and have a look? That would give him the fastest answer, wouldn't it?

Yes, Danny thought, it would. There would be no danger posed to him at all, at least not like there would be to the living. This job wouldn't be so bad after all -- and maybe he and the ghost could even work something out.

Had the previous guard managed to do that too? If I had to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath, I'd probably be a bit irritable at night, too. There might have been more to it, now that he thought about it. . .

But, first things first: Freddy himself. Danny floated up out of his chair, glancing again down the hall at Ducky-Ducky; thinking to dissuade it from poking around the office, he hit the door button on that side before peering out into the left-side hall.

This one was empty and Danny wafted out, completely invisible, completely silent. Even then, he declined to brush against the pinned children's drawings along the walls as he went, keeping an ear out for movement in the empty dining area. He had heard the footsteps only as they had started up the hall toward his office, which gave him an approximate range. That helped.

He peered around the crook in the hall, through the open dining area door. No sign of Big Yellow coming back up yet -- but the other two on the stage had both turned to stare at him.

Could they actually see him?

No. They couldn't. Of course they couldn't. He was invisible -- untouchable -- one step away from plain dead.

But as he floated closer, he heard one of Freddy's servos whine, and its head turned jerkily to keep face with him. It said nothing as Danny drifted over dormant tables and chairs and darkened party decorations; it did not move as he came up toward the edge of the stage, easing closer an inch at a time.

Why was he hesitating? He had already reasoned that those old battered robots could not hurt him.

But Freddy's pinprick eyes were locked on him. It said nothing at all, but there was no doubt in Danny's mind now. The smell of decayed grease and rot hung about it: it may not have been possessed directly, but there were lingering dead here.

Then there was a rush of sound behind him and Danny whirled; the footsteps ran out from the curtained cove but he processed nothing but a blur; then a wallop of metal like a steel bat slammed into his side and sent him careening to the far end of the room. Dazed, he yanked himself back into the air again, swirling down the hall, past Big Yellow, and through the still-closed door before he could take another hit. His palm landed on the opposite door's control and for a moment he just waited there, hovering, his still-beating heart triphammering in his ears.

Both doors were shut now; he could hear nothing from beyond either of them.

What in the hell was that? Something had hit him -- it shouldn't have been able to do that -- he had been intangible and something had hit him, what was it? He could not afford to get into a fight, not here, not when it would be dreadfully obvious in the morning who had caused the damage and (oh, he hated to think it) he really did need this job.

With the doors shut, Danny went back to the cameras again, going first to the one in the dining room. If he was fast enough, whatever had hit him would still be there.

No luck. The two possessed robots onstage waited, unmoving; the wandering chicken-thing was still in the hall.

But something had gotten him. He stretched out his side carefully, estimating how bad of a bruise he would have by tomorrow. He'd had worse.

But it dawned on him at last that there were four animatronics here. Three of them remained up on the stage; the last one, he had assumed, was out of order.

But apparently it had not been shut down.

The curtains on the closed-down Pirate Cove were shut, with only a thin crack between them that peered into the darkness. Whatever was in there -- a fox one, thought Danny, recalling some of the childish art on the walls -- must have hit him.

It must have been that one.

Once his heart finally slowed, Danny set his feet down again on the tiled floor. All right, he thought: if he was looking for proof of ghostly activity, that had been it. Nothing that wasn't ghostly could have touched him, much less left a bruise.

But he couldn't fight them. So, what then?

For the moment: nothing. He would keep an eye on them for the rest of the night, and keep those doors down too. Why there had to be two of them, he didn't know -- but they both worked just fine, and that was good enough for him.

Only, it wasn't, was it? The blinking little indicator on the corner of his camera display informed him that he had limited power at his disposal (why? he thought, who designed this place??) and those plate-steel doors took a great deal of it.

He checked the time: 1:18. Power: 59%.

Oh, hell. Part of him wondered what would happen if the power ran out. Would everything in the building shut down? Would the animatronics shut down too? That seemed to be the most reasonable conclusion, of course.

So it was best not to count on it.

With almost five hours left, Danny settled back into the rolling chair again, thought over his options, and eventually came to what he considered to be the most efficient solution.

He would play along for the time being. He could take those robots down in a fight, even if they did possess some ghostly abilities; but, more importantly, he needed this job. His phone -- the latest of six he had gone through in as many months -- had not come cheap, and his mother had finally put her foot down on the matter. If he was going to keep breaking them, she said, he could keep replacing them, too.

Which, to be fair, was a little overdue.

But still. He had thought, on the outset, that he would rather do night work than suffer the indignities of straight-on customer service.

He supposed, for the moment, that that still held.

But whether it would continue to hold? That was up for debate.

Danny’s parents have had enough. It’s time to get a job and replace his own constantly broken cell phones, especially since he’s in college now. After all, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria is hiring, they need a new night security guard.

[vierandancer]

The Physical Effects Of Absorbing All That Light*

In Mei’s main verse, she is the last person to be brought to the First. Thus, she is the only one with a physical body on the First. Although the Scions did have A’kihiko delivered to the First around the same-ish time as Alisaie, there was a concern that without a physical body to absorb the light of a Light Warden, he would easily be overpowered. Thus why they needed Meiko, because she had a heartier, emptier rechargeable battery to fill, so to speak. 

SO.

After the first Warden, symptoms are very mild and almost unnoticeable. Meiko would get a little unfocused, maybe hear a faint static, and a bit light-headed. This only lasted for the period of time it took to travel from Holminster Switch back to the Crystarium, and then maybe happen a bit the morning after. Then it would fade. A’kihiko would feel similar effects.

After the second Warden, the above symptoms would return, and last just about as long. Same for A’kihiko. However, for Meiko, there would be effects that were similar to panic attacks. Tightening of the chest, shortness of breath, etc. However, because Mei has been having panic attacks since everyone was taken from the First, she wouldn’t realize that was an Aether thing.

As time went on leading up to the Greatwood, however, the fuzzy feeling and shortness of breath would come in waves. At this point her own mental health has deteriorated for other reasons, but the stress on her body makes it worse. Still, nothing is outwardly physical and noticeable. 

By the time they’ve reached Fanow, that feeling of a constant panicked fluttering in her chest is a constant. Her vision blurs on and off until she blinks it away. She checks on A’kihiko, and he’s fine.

After the absorption of the third Lightwarden, it all starts to go to hell. The symptoms that were easy to move forward with are no longer playing around. The buzzing has spread from her head to her entire body, and when it spikes, she feels like someone’s taken a pickaxe to her chest. Everything is humming and fragile and if she doesn’t focus, her palms start to shake.

If you look close enough, too, you’ll notice that not only have her dark green eyes started to lighten, but her pupils are trembling, too. When she does sleep, she’ll have nightmares (stress related, probably not actual Light related) about looking at her hands and seeing them that pure, porcelain white of a Sin Eater….

After she’s absorbed the last Light Warden*, the physical changes on her body becomes a little more apparent. Parts of her hair have started to gray/whiten.

Also, not sure how/when this will be discovered – probably not unless there’s a ship involved – but a side effect of all this garbage is that she’s completely sterile. No biological children for Meiko.

[kiss-me-nott]

❝ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 ❞ kny general halloween headcannons ´ˎ˗

𝐟𝐭. ; tanjiro, nezuko, zenitsu, inosuke, kanao + genya!

𝐜𝐰. ; none!

𝐚/𝐧. ; also includes just some october stuff like corn mazes and pumpkin carving. bc its halloween i've only really included western candies + a more modern setting!

𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐨 ´ˎ˗

gets really excited for october and buys everything he needs weeks earlier.

tanjiro loves trick or treating! and probably does both sides, giving candy out first and going out with all his siblings in costume later!

[ makes them wear those little lights and glowsticks ]

he's the oldest after all and watching all of them takes priority.

so probably really prepared, with gloves and scarves if anyone gets too cold. and of course, knows the best streets to go down for candy.

usually gives all his candy away to younger kids out at night, his siblings pick out their favorite and so do his friends.

he doesn't mind of course but tries to secretly hide any candy apples he's gotten.

really good at corn mazes, like runs out and completes it in two minutes

𝐍𝐞𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐨 ´ˎ˗

she loves the costumes and ends up with too many to choose from.

probably ends up combining her favorite two, like a witch with vampire teeth.

likes tim burton movies [ like corpse bride and nightmare before christmas ] slasher movies are too much for her.

really likes lollipops, especially if they're cherry flavored or have caramel centers!

she gets cold if she stays out long and doesn't usually wear big sweaters or anything because they ruin the look of her costume.

but also watches out for her younger siblings!

probably the one to start the 'trick-or-treat' if her siblings are too shy

a bit jumpy but i think she'd laugh more when she's scared.

𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐚 ´ˎ˗

very superstitious, hates black cats and the scariest parts of halloween. [ like the extreme costumes some people wear ]

no zombies, witches, clowns. . . no no no thank you

probably dresses up as a white sheet ghost. [ under the safety of a blanket ]

hates haunted houses. if you manage to drag him into one, he'll cry the whole way and use anyone as a shield until he's out.

he likes candy though, and will brave the monster-ridden streets for some [ only after tanjiro refuses to share his candy ]

usually just wants to see nezuko's costume(s)

but i think he likes decorating the house with classic halloween decorations like cotton spiderwebs, and pumpkin carving.

isn't too good at it but he takes his time to detail it.

Gets really cold if he stays out long, red nose and ears.

𝐈𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐚 ´ˎ˗

okay, literally a halloween maniac. counting down each day until the spookiest night of the year.

loves old slasher films + usually laughs through them with mouthfuls of popcorn. [ his favorite is michael myers ]

will probably dress as him too, probably not a quiet michael myers but he loves it

but doesn't go out until it passes the 'is it scary enough test?' [ where he puts on his costume on early and terrifies anyone he sees. . . zenitsu ]

candy hoarder and will not share. in fact, he brings a big garbage bag and hauls that around until its stuffed.

scares little kids for their sweets.

sugar crashes hard, like he's face down on the couch twitching.

𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐨 𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐮𝐫𝐢 ´ˎ˗

doesn't usually wear a costume, at most probably a mask but she's a good person to wear matching costumes with.

inosuke persuades her to wear a jason voorhees mask and carry a plastic machete.

usually goes out with her older siblings but when she goes with the group, she has a strict curfew.

trick-or-treats efficiently and effectively.

likes eating her candy along the way, mostly the chocolates and some of the lollipops.

chocolates aren't too sweet, and she likes all the different kinds of flavors halloween seems to come up with.

when she comes home her older sisters actually sneak a few full bars into her bag.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 ´ˎ˗

doesn't dress up or have a costume.

but when he goes out [ with his siblings or the group ] people just assume he's scary looking enough to give him candy.

"what are you supposed to be?"

his siblings usually weed out the good candy from his bag.

he doesn't like sweets to begin with but because they take the good stuff i think he's prone to like the 'gross' flavors. like those weird marshmallows, black licorice and candy corn.

but! he does have a soft spot for caramel.

doesn't mind haunted houses or 'scary' movies, but he does possess the 'fight' reaction when it comes to 'fight or flight'.

so will [ and has ] knocked out someone in the haunted house when his siblings begged him to go.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 64: Shower

There were a lot of benefits to living in a muggle flat in London.

Draco never had to worry about being recognized, it was delightfully noisy (always an added bonus when you woke up from a nightmare, it was very grounding), and one of his neighbors was always leaving him baked goods just outside his door.

But there were definite downsides as well. Mostly that when things broke (which pretty much seemed to be always) he couldn't use magic to fix it and had to wait for the muggle repair man.

"You're sure you can't get here any sooner than Friday to fix the shower?" he asked the maintenance man over the muggle mobile he'd purchased shortly before moving in.

"I'll get there as soon as I can but it's Friday at the earliest," the man replied, "right now I have a busted toilet, a broken garbage disposal, a kitchen light repair, a cabinet door replacement, a window that won't open, a door knob that the lock sticks on, and an ac unit that is pumping in hot air."

Draco resisted the urge to tell him to hire some help and sighed, "Right. Thank you."

The man grunted in response and hung up.

After a moment of contemplating his options, he gathered up his bath supplies and marched down the hall. When he'd moved in a girl named Amelia had told him if he ever needed anything just to come knock on her door. She'd said that she and her boyfriend would be happy to help, and she had even mentioned a shower breaking specifically.

Steeling himself he knocked, "Amelia?" he called. "It's Thomas from 116," he added, he'd almost gotten used to calling himself that. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but my shower is broken and-"

"Just a minute!" a distinctly male voice called back.

And he waited, feeling more embarrassed since couldn't recall having ever met Amelia's boyfriend. He hoped that he wouldn't think that Draco was a creep.

"Sorry," the man called, and Draco heard the locks being slid from their places, "Amelia and I broke up but I'd be glad to help wi-"

The door opened and Draco felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. "Potter?" he spluttered

(Read more below the cut)

"Draco Malfoy, what the actual fuck?"

"What are you doing here?" Draco hissed.

Potter drew back like Draco had slapped him, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

Before Draco could respond, Delores from the room between their rooms emerged and Potter grabbed him by the front of his tshirt and dragged him inside of his flat.

Draco barely had a moment to notice that his flat was surprisingly cozy before Potter was standing in front of him once more, arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" Draco exclaimed. "I've lived here for six months!"

"Well I have lived here for almost a year!" Potter replied. "How did you find this place?"

"Do you know how hard it is to find a flat to rent in London?" Draco asked.

Potter paused, "Actually, yes," he replied. "And this place is enough of a shit-hole that there is a rotating tenant-base."

"Where's Amelia?"

Potter's brow furrowed, "How do you know Amelia?"

"I don't," he said with a shrug, "I met her when I was moving in and she told me if my shower ever broke I should just come knock on her door."

Potter sighed, "Damn."

"What?" Draco asked, feeling like he'd missed something.

"Oh nothing," Potter said, waving him off, "I'd just really been hoping that the guy I caught her cheating on me with was the only one."

Draco spluttered, "I was not romantically involved with your girlfriend."

"No," Potter replied, "No, I know. Just we worked opposite shifts so she was home in the day and I was home at night, and," he shrugged, "Well, you know how it goes."

Draco pinched his arm, he must be dreaming.

Potter turned and wandered toward his kitchen and Draco couldn't help but wonder if he was meant to follow him. "Tea?" Potter called over his shoulder.

And really, Draco had just meant to beg to use the shower but that little part of him that desperately loved gossip decided tea was a better plan. "Please."

The other man sent a smile at him over his shoulder, dimple popping up and Merlin, when had Potter gotten this attractive?

"So," he said as he put the kettle on, "What do you do?"

"I'm going to a muggle university, actually," Draco replied as he found a seat on a stool at the island, "studying to be a solicitor."

"Huh," Potter said, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, "That suits you."

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean," he said, brow furrowed.

"Oh, nothing," Potter assured, "Just you're clever, good at arguing, and good at finding loop holes, I imagine."

At the earnest look on Potter's face, he decided not to take offense. "What is it that you do?"

Potter smiled at him, "I work at an animal shelter."

Draco blinked, he'd never expected that answer.

"I know," Potter laughed, "It's not what anyone expected but it makes me happy and it feels like good work."

The kettle whistled and Potter turned around to fetch down a couple of mugs and make them tea. "How long have you been living out of the wizarding world?"

"A little over a year," he replied. "It was just too difficult," Draco said, "I was mobbed everywhere I went, sent death threats," he added, "Not that I don't deserve them-"

"You don't," Potter said sharply, spinning around to face him. "Godric, Draco, you were just a kid. We all were."

He swallowed and looked down at the island, "Be that as it may," he said carefully, "I think it's easier for people." He made a vague gesture, "Not to have to see me."

"The pressure in the wizarding community is unreal," Potter said, setting a cup of tea along with the sugar bowl in front of Draco before he made his way to his refrigerator, "You still don't take cream, do you?"

"No," he replied with a little smile, pleased that he wasn't the only one to still remember oddities about the other.

"Why don't we go into the living room?" he suggested. "My furniture in there is much more comfortable."

Draco followed along behind him and settled onto what appeared to be the least squishy piece of furniture, a beige chair. Potter seemed to have no such qualms and sunk into a cozy rocking chair. Draco cleared his throat, "You've been gone for how long now?" he asked.

"Almost two and a half years," Potter replied before taking a sip of tea.

"Do you miss it?" Draco asked.

Shrugging one shoulder he answered, "Sometimes. I still go to the Weasley's most Sundays and I go for birthday parties and holidays. It's enough." He took another sip of tea, his eyes glued to Draco in that piercing way of his and it felt like it had been ages since someone had actually seen him. "What about you? Do you miss it?"

"At the beginning," he confessed, "But less now."

Potter hummed, seemingly waiting for Draco to continue

"Did you go to-"

Potter waved him off, "My life is exceptionally boring, I assure you. Tell me about you," he said. "Tell me about school, about what you want to do with your degree, tell me about acclimating to Muggle life," he chuckled, "tell me everything."

And so Draco did. He talked about his classes, talked about how difficult certain parts of living like a muggle were, talked about doing work with children, talked about doing a double major in law and in psychology. Draco talked, and talked, and talked while Harry listened; and he realized it had been a really long time since someone had done this with him.

He was in the middle of a story about how he hadn't understood how pens worked when Harry's mobile rang. With a wince he pulled it out of his pocket, "Sorry," he said, silencing it only for it to start ringing again a minute later. He huffed, "Sorry," he repeated. "It's Hermione and Ron. They'll just keep calling if I don't answer, give me just a minute."

"Of course," he said.

Harry gave him a little smile, "I'll get some more tea," he added before picking up.

Over the tiny little speaker Draco could hear cheering and hollering before a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday was sung and Draco felt the blood drain from his face. He pulled out his own mobile and clicked the wake button. July 31

He felt like such an arse, here he was blabbering away at the other man when Potter probably had a million things he'd rather be doing.

"Thank you," Potter said over the phone from the kitchen. "I'm a bit busy just now," he broke off to listen to some chatter. "Yes. I'll be by on Sunday to celebrate." Another pause, "Yes. Love you all, too. Kisses to Rosie and Teddy."

When he returned he said, "Sorry, you were saying about the pens?"

"I feel like an absolute clot," Draco said.

"What? Why?"

"It's your birthday!" he exclaimed, "and here I've sat for the past two hours talking your ear off about..." he trailed off, "Complete nonsense!"

"Oh, it's fine," he said, waving Draco off, "This is way better than the way I was planning to spend my birthday."

"Oh? Why don't I believe you?" he asked.

"No really," Potter said earnestly. "I was just going to go for a walk and then hang out around the house."

"But why? Don't your friends want to see you?"

"Oh, the Weasleys are away. They went on a trip to Spain; when they made the plans, I'd planned to be on a beach in the Galapagos with Amelia."

"I'm taking you to dinner," he said firmly.

"I couldn't impo-"

"I insist," he interrupted. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Well if you insist," Harry said with a laugh.

"Good. I'm going to use your shower and then go get dressed and we're leaving in twenty minutes."

He chuckled, "It's a date."

--------

And it really had felt like a date, Draco reflected as they strolled back toward their apartment building after a long dinner with multiple courses and dessert.

"Thank you, by the way," Harry said, his shoulder bumping lightly into Draco's when they were just outside of their building.

"Don't mention it," he replied. "It's the least I could do."

Harry stopped and looked over at him, so Draco stopped next to him, "It's not, though," he said. "You didn't have to do any of this."

"I wanted to," he huffed.

He started to lean in closer, "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," he whispered.

"What?"

"This," he murmured before his fingers cupped Draco's cheek and his lips pressed, soft and dry, against Draco's lips.

Harry drew back, "Alright?" he whispered.

Draco's fingers clenched in the front of Harry's shirt and he tugged him back in, slotting their lips together once more. The fingers on Harry's right hand slid through Draco's hair and his other slipped around Draco's back, drawing their bodies flush against one another as Harry's tongue brushed over Draco's bottom lip.

They stood on the sidewalk and kissed for a long moment before Harry pulled back and murmured, "Come home with me?"

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, brow furrowing.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life," he replied, pecking Draco's lips again.

He couldn't help but smile as he nodded his consent and Harry grabbed his hand and dragged him inside and straight to his bedroom.

------

Later, when they were still lying in bed talking about whatever nonsense came into the heads, Harry said, "Draco?"

"Mmmh?"

"This was probably the best birthday I've ever had."

He rolled onto his side so he could see Harry's face illuminated by the moonlight. Harry reached up and brushed his forefinger over Draco's cheekbone and Draco responded, "You've not had many good birthdays, then, have you?"

Harry laughed, "I've had some good birthdays."

"Next year," Draco said before he could think through what he was about to say, "Next year I will give you the best birthday you've ever had."

"Oh?" Harry said, grinning widely at him.

At the sweet, innocent look on Harry's face, he let himself dream, let himself imagine what life could turn out like. He nodded, "I'll wake you up with lazy morning sex, you seem like the type to really enjoy that."

"I am," Harry affirmed, his dimples showing.

Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to the nearest dimple and said, "Then, I'll take you to Paris for breakfast."

"Ooh, Paris?"

He nodded, "I'll get you strawberry crepes with mounds of whipped cream."

"Sounds delicious," Harry said.

"Then I'll take you to a beach somewhere, Bora Bora maybe," he added, enthralled by the pleased crinkle around Potter's eyes.

He hummed, "I've never been to Bora Bora."

"No?"

Harry shook his head.

"Right, then we'll spend the whole day there, I'll sit under an umbrella all day and pretend to get annoyed when you come to kiss me and get sand and ocean water all over me."

He laughed, "As long as it's pretend."

"Then," Draco said, "I'll bring you back to a little villa that you can see the ocean through the floor and I'll cook you dinner. We'll eat together, then go swimming in the dark."

"Sounds lovely," Harry sighed.

"And then we'll come back and try out the bed that's under the stars," he said, brushing a hand over Harry's waist.

"That sounds really nice," he murmured.

"It's a date, then," Draco said.

He smiled back and echoed, "It's a date."

-------

And, true to his word, one year later Draco took Harry to Paris for breakfast and then to Bora Bora for the rest of the weekend. Harry proposed to Draco the very next morning.

--------

Day 63: Hair | Day 65: Question

[somerpmemes]

The Owl House Starters

Change as needed

“No! My only weakness! Dying!”

“That doesn’t count, right?”

“Do you have any friends? Real ones?”

“Tiny trash thief!”

“Oops, that happens sometimes.”

“I’m a squirmy little fella.”

“I like food, I like love, just let me write about it!”

“Oh, he gets so cute when he’s thirsty for power.”

“I’ve never actually broken any of your stupid laws… in front of you.”

“I hate everything you’re saying right now.”

“We’d be the strongest power couple ever.”

“Self-doubt is a prison you can never escape from.”

“Anyways, let’s bounce before any more monsters fall in love with me.”

“I am not your cutie pie!”

“No one wants an un-oiled snake.”

“Remember, never befriend a man in sandals and always measure twice, cut once.”

“Be back by nightfall or risk mortal peril!”

“I know I’ve had enough delight for one day.”

“Sorry to break it to you, ___, but no one here is that well-dressed.”

“This has been a rough day.”

“Big houses always belong to big whack jobs.”

“Today just got good.”

“Wizards are just old people with glitter in their pockets.”

“Anyways, your food is gone and we are too.”

“Never trust a man in casual drapery.”

“All that mean-spirited laughter made me sleepy.”

“I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”

“All your food was so tiny and cute.”

“If you can think of a better plan I’d love to hear it.”

“Betrayed by my own cool accessories.”

“I didn’t have to be part of this!”

“I… don’t like this.”

“I think I’ll head home and look at pictures of animals that are still… alive.”

“Wow, you’re so unnoticeable I almost rolled into you.”

“It’s okay, the thorns only went through a few layers of skin.”

“Alright, into the darkness you go.”

“Oh my god, I haven’t eaten real food in so long please give me some.”

“You can’t just cut open a human, can you?”

“Keeping junk in my pocket saved my life!”

“Ahh, baby’s first wanted poster.”

“Even demons have inner demons.”

“This is my paying attention face.”

“Look, now we’re boo boo buddies.”

“It’s like a rainbow, but looking at it turns you inside out.”

“I respect your cunning but I also hate you for it.”

“Oh, gross. Can I keep that?”

“This is terrifying, so why do you look so happy?”

“Oh no, a twist!”

“I’m kind of over that nickname, but okay.”

“Oh, what lovely thing do we have here? It’s just so dang shiny, oh my.”

“And look, I drew flip book.”

“I will literally do anything to stop this.”

“If I’m seen, I could go to jail… again.”

“Alright, let’s see this mess.”

“That’s probably fine.”

“Time to prepare for bloodshed.”

“Welcome down to my level!”

“I know I should be repulsed but that look is fierce.”

“I’m gonna steal everything that’s not nailed down!”

“I was up all night poison tasting and, for some reason, I don’t feel great.”

“I need an extra pair of eyes looking out for pickpockets. And an extra pair of hands in case I want to pickpocket.”

“I got leaves in my pants. And I like it.”

“I was a strange child.”

“You think this can stop me? I can still bite your ankles.”

“If you’re gonna eat me, just do it now!”

“___, you’re getting all swoony again.”

“Rivals are meant to be annihilated, not befriended.”

“Witches eating babies is so 1693.”

“Ugh, you.”

“I thought we were as cool as cucumbers but we’re as sour as pickles.”

“Whoa, I almost passed out.”

“It’s been hours, how can it keep screaming!?”

“Say that again and I steal your tongue.”

“Keep going, this is fun to watch.”

“Isn’t that taking it a bit too far?”

“Just go away before things somehow get worse!”

“This never happened.”

“And who doesn’t like their name in lights?”

“That’s the incorrect reaction!”

“I smell an easy mark.”

“Well, I hate her.”

“It’s like demonic possession with the ones you love.”

“This is just like my favorite early 2000’s movie!”

“I’m so old… and pointy.”

“I’ve got some very confusing emotions right now.”

“My life’s not a joke! But yours is!”

“Novelty costumes are where I draw the line.”

“I am not above disrespecting my elders.”

“This vacation just took an alarming, back-alley turn.”

“Geez, I thought I’d like being babied. But I feel small and helpless, like some sort of baby.”

“Hey, take this, society!”

“I didn’t like her telling me what to do before, but now I love it!”

“Let’s go let out some teen angst!”

“This is how the cool kids ride. Super backwards, on purpose.”

“Your life is pretty terrible. But, hey, it’ll probably be over soon.”

“This is some of my best work, really captures the shame.”

“That’s sweet, kid. Now let’s never speak of this again.”

“Show, don’t tell, man.”

“Oh, look what you did. I’m gonna go rub it in.”

“That seems like a potential problem to me.”

“You being the razzle, I’ll bring the dazzle.”

“Do you always have confetti on you or—?”

“You’re just gonna be unhelpful, huh?”

“Okay, time to run for no particular reason!”

“Oof, I’ve had this nightmare before.”

“Like I’d actually apologize.”

“I want power, and I want drama.”

“Are you ready to give up?”

“I was afraid, I acted stupid.”

“I just wish you told me the truth.”

“You know, it didn’t taste as bad as I thought I would.”

“Impressive, still alive.”

“This is a throne worthy of a tyrant!”

“No, no, keep those sticky hands away.”

“No one wants to see that.”

“Since when are you into sports?”

“Gross, sympathy.”

“Don’t spend all night plotting revenge.”

“Oh, this is an interesting development.”

“I’ll take that weird grumble as a yes.”

“I’m feeling confident about this plan.”

“Trust must be earned.”

“If you run, you’ll just make it harder for yourself!”

“Your pride has destroyed you.”

“So tiny, so angry.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be clean again.”

“If you ever want to search for the truth, I’ll help you.”

“Aww, that’s a horrible lie.”

“Partake of my free snack samples!”

“Why isn’t anyone paying attention to me?”

“A, eww. B, I’m bored. C, I feel like pickpocketing some dork while they browse.”

“I know my good angle.”

“Ugh, what are the basement dwellers doing out in natural sunlight?’

“Hey, there’s more to life than shipping.”

“___, I know you’re trying to help, but I think you’re crossing a line.”

“Ooh, I love punching.”

“You’re ominous, and I like it.”

“And of course you would be here just to be a nuisance.”

“I wanted to compare sunglasses.”

“Fame can really box you in, you know?”

“Besides, if anyone’s putting you down it’s gonna be me.”

“If it’s disappointing in any way I’ll spend the rest of my life trashing it.”

“He scammed us. Can you believe he scammed us?”

“Good entrance. But that outfit? Hah!”

“I’ve got a new crush and her name is education!”

“Ahh, fresh garbage.”

“I have never seen such an extravagant earring.”

“Wow, a surprisingly peaceful domestic moment. When will it be ruined?”

“Weaponizing my pride, well played.”

“Sorry, whoever’s over there!”

“Well, go on. Eat the snow.”

“Huh, it’s no fun if they don’t tremble.”

“Oh, okay, alright. Yup, an idea’s happening.”

“Shh! I don’t need your validation!”

“Get back here before that thing bites you!”

“No, we’re gonna die.”

“Cool. I didn’t actually think you could do it.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Alright, your adorable banter is literally making me sick.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”

“Aww. I won’t be doing that, but thanks.”

“Quitting: it’s like trying, but easier.”

“You humans are filled with liquids, right?”

“I guess I have always liked pouring things into other things.”

“Time to scrounge through the trash.”

“I ain’t no desk jockey.”

“You don’t know diddly dang about squiddly squat!”

“I love secret rooms!”

“You have an aura of lies.”

“Also, you can eat trash.”

“Do the right thing, you dingus!”

“It just goes on like this for an hour.”

“Carnivals bring crowds and crowds bring suckers.”

“We’ve got scams to run.”

“I know poison when I see it.”

“You can’t scam a scammer.”

“You should really put a lock on your closet.”

“I love crimes!”

“Now this is my kind of weird.”

“That’s way safer than becoming blood brothers.”

“Beat up the man and steal his things for me.”

“This mama is ready for trauma.”

“All right. Approval!”

“Curse these stubby legs!”

“Sketchy carnival rides are not to blame this time.”

“___, you’re lucky I can’t be mad at your adorable antics.”

“Just when I thought I couldn’t respect the law any less…”

“Aww, what a supportive sign.”

“Yep, I just counted to one million.”

“Looks like we ruined his life for a second time.”

“I’ve always wanted to own a jagged piece of cheap metal.”

“Yes! Bread puns, bread puns forever!”

“Now I know what friendship tastes like.”

“I think today is a talons day.”

“It’s fun because it’s stupid.”

“I’ll admit, I was adorable.”

“Be careful with my brain.”

“Wouldn’t you rather talk about it?”

“That’s my motto after all, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’”

“No schemes, no plots, no ruses. None.”

“I can’t believe I made him cry.”

“Are you solving a crime or about to commit one?”

“Sadly this is one problem crime can’t solve.”

“I’m supposed to choose someone interesting, accomplished, and noteworthy. People aren’t meant to be all those things!”

“Yup, her brain’s burned up real good.”

“Be still my fantasy-loving heart.”

“I’m pretty good at getting stuck inside people’s heads.”

“Hey, I found something magical.”

“I’ma put my face in it.”

“It’s like a little doghouse for angels.”

“If you’re handing out attention, I deserve it.”

“Eww, I mean, aww.”

“I really messed things up.”

“It’s eggs, it’s full of eggs.”

“No one turns down an interview with someone this pretty.”

“Me? Avoid? What? No. But let’s skip it.”

“There’s levels to me, kid. Levels I say!”

“Oh, right, I put people in there.”

“I’m gonna hug you so hard you’ll never forget me again!”

“I regret teaching you about the internet.”

“Ah, a severed hand. Perfect response.”

“Hmm, the demon at my shoulder makes a good point.”

“Always trust a shoulder demon.”

“The more I look at him, the more uncomfortable I get.”

“Man, you’ve got some quick grabbers.”

“I can’t wait to get overdressed, take awkward photos, push all the buttons!”

“We’re gonna turn this bloodbath into a fun bath.”

“Do you think I could pull off red eyeshadow?”

“Girl, you could pull off anything.”

“We’re style geniuses!”

“Ominous footsteps, creepy woods, this is no problem.”

“Dang, I look great.”

“___, you always go overboard and I end up bailing you out.”

“Now, what’s the fun in watching a kid get eaten by a monster if it’s my kid?”

“___, I don’t think you’re ready but we’re literally out of time.”

“Why so twitchy, witchy?”

“Teenagers are brutal. They’ll boo anyone and that kind of public humiliation will stick with you for life.”

“You look nice. Strange, but nice.”

“Honestly, I’m kind of amazed with how fearless you are.”

“You’ve done things I could never do.”

“Thing is, you’re sitting in my personal chitchat zone, which means you gotta talk.”

“I am a little weirdo.”

“You gotta pander.”

“Cheating a isn’t anything to brag about.”

“Well, can’t reason with crazy!”

“I’ve been talking for too long.”

“Feeling sentimental?”

“I love water.”

“I don’t know much about sports but I do know about sports movies.”

“What happens in the montage stays in the montage.”

“Not everything can be solved with a good attitude and a dope movie soundtrack.”

“Sorry, I just really love backstories.”

“You just destroyed your social life.”

“That’s such a stupid rule!”

“You’re not gonna show this to anyone, right?”

“I haven’t forgotten what you promised me.”

“Ahh, you’re a thorn in my side but you always dig your way into my heart.”

“Jeez, you’re morbid.”

“Ahh, it’s a fate much worse than death if you think about it.”

“Please don’t make me regret taking you here.”

“Love me a properly ventilated castle.”

“I spy with my little eye something coming this way!”

“I’m going away and I don’t know if I can come back this time.”

“And  ___, thank you, for being in my life.”

“I want her back as much as you do.”

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for your own good.”

“Ah farts, I got caught.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“Please tell me that’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“To be great, you have to make sacrifices.”

“Ahh, ___, you chose the wrong side.”

“I like your spirit, but try that again and things won’t end well for you.”

“Go on, then. Go be a hero.”

“I may have lost but so have you.”

“I can teach you what I know, and what we don’t know we can learn together.”