#they will never leave each other. the only way claras gonna leave is through death

[xatsperesso]

Do you think that Nishi could kill a important character?

I mean Sully will probably die at a point, the question is more "when will we die" that "will he die?" Everyone (or almost everyone) can guess that it will happen soon or later, even if we want it to be later than soon.

But i think to a more important character. Like Ameri for exemple.

Can you imagine the effects ot if?

Oh im sorry people think sully is gonna die???? How?? Since when??? Why am i only hearing about this now??!

Like sure i know someone is bound to die or get irreversibly damaged -this is a story where the main antagonists are terrorists, they're not pulling punches- but i never saw sully as someone who'd just die. I thought someone who had more screen-time, someone we-and iruma- had more time to get attached to will die like kalego or opera

Or maybe im only thinking that cause I'm more emotional attached to some characters than others, and if watching jojo taught me anything, those i get attached to will die, so im preparing myself. Just in case (not like preparing myself will stop me from ugly-crying all night)

But anyway, how would ameri's death affect iruma? I dont think it'd affect him too much. I AM looking at this from a reader point of view AND NOT from their point of view, and i understand that this would be a very traumatising experience for iruma, and it'd need him a very long time to recover, especially if she died in a terrorist attack, and he'd have to deal with a lot of unfounded guilt.

But i just think that ameri's death wouldn't break him. Ameri, at the end of the day, is a friend that he doesn't meet up with all that much, or not as much as other people. He doesn’t see her alot, or not as much as he sees other people. So yes, it would be a very horrifying experience, someone whom you see as a close friend dying-probably in front of his eyes- but hed still have his support system to help him through it. He'd come out of it mourning her death but still standing.

But what would happen if we took a very essential part of iruma's support system. What if azz died? Now that would shatter him.

His first friend ever, the one who vowed to be with him till the end of time, the one that nishi time and time again emphasised their relationship and how close they are to the point of being soulmates.

Azz's death would absolutely destroy him, and the difference betwee azz's and ameri's death is that in ameri's death, his friends wont really be grieving her death because to them she's an upperclassman, not a friend, so they wont feel as much as iruma's feeling which woul surely feel frustrating because no one understands.

But azz's death will affect everyone in the misfits, which could go one of two way. 1. Everyone feels grieve over their friend who suddenly died, or 2. Everyone is shoving their feelings down because surely iruma and clara are feeling worse, right? They've been so close, and as their friends they need to help them, right?

And both are worse than each other cause on one hand everyone is having the worst time of their lives and there's no way iruma will do anything or will reach out to them for help, but on the other hand everyone would give him and clara a special treatment which is just the worst.

And can you imagine if all the misfits are in a battlefield and they suddenly see one of them die right in front of their eyes? We saw a lil sneak-peak of what iruma's reaction may have been when he saw azz almost die, but what would his reaction be if he saw the light leave his eyes?

Azz's death would break a lot of people, while ameri's wont affect as many people, and I'd honestly be very frustrated if ameri is the one who dies, cause then why keep dropping hints of iruma amd ameri dating?! Her death just wouldn't make sense!

And clara isnt allowed to die. That just wont happen. She's more likely to find a solution and bring someone from their death than die herself. She's just not going to die.

[lesbiten]

the space between season 8 and season 9 is so important its clara and twelve trying for once to live without each other. clara thinks hes found gallifrey, twelve thinks danny is still alive. they believe the other's problems have been resolved. theres no need for the coping mechanism (each other) when theres nothing to cope with. however. since theyre both big fat liars, what does this do? make it substantially worse! the only way they were able to be apart from each other is by lying! as soon as the lie is over theyre back to being inseperable! because they are codependent on each other as a coping mechanism!!!!!!!!!!

no im ON the train tonight. look. the doctor and claras relationship is SO complicated i think trying to just apply normal shipping culture to them is like. is that all you got out of this. i dont even like clara that much but i can appreciate the fact that her character and history with the doctor is like. so much MORE than that.!!!!!!! i cant call their relationship romantic because it Isnt theyre not together romantically whatsoever but theyre entirely codependent on each other. how many times would the doctor have died had clara not gone back through his timeline and saved him? you think that would severely impact the way he sees her? is it not insane that claras boyfriend died (with the doctor being at least partially at fault for that) and her solution was to stay with him? to go even further from her life on earth? the fact that theyre both using each other for a coping mechanism that isnt going to last? nothing about their relationship is healthy! and yet! its the only thing holding both of their lives together! neither can live without the other but they keep refusing to think about the possibility! it can only end in tragedy! whatever

[songforten]

clara oswald's character arc is a greek tragedy

ok, so if you know me, you know i HATE series 7 of doctor who. it's near unwatchable for me. i know a lot of people like it, and you're valid and welcome to enjoy the show however you want. this isn't about you dkfjshdfkjsh

anyway. i really don't like how clara is treated in s7. she just feels like a paper thin prop, just there to be a mystery for the doctor to solve. she doesn't have all that much character, really.

putting this under a read more cause it's gonna get long.

that all changes in series 8. they start setting up that clara is Not Taking the Doctor's Shit Anymore. they Also set up that she sees herself as kind of. above? other humans?

from kill the moon:

CLARA: I nearly didn't press that button. I nearly got it wrong. That was you, my friend, making me scared. Making me feel like a bloody idiot.

DOCTOR: Language.

CLARA: Oh, don't you ever tell me to mind my language. Don't you ever tell me to take the stabilizers off my bike. And don't you dare lump me in with the rest of all the little humans that you think are so tiny and silly and predictable. You walk our Earth, Doctor, you breathe our air. You make us your friend, and that is your moon too. And you can damn well help us when we need it.

this continues for the rest of the season, with flatline and her literally calling herself the doctor (though, that's mostly to get on his nerves), but she spends the whole episode functionally Being Him and she enjoys it. and then she uses that again in death in heaven, pretending to be him to survive the cybermen. end of that episode, the doctor and clara part ways, her telling him that danny is alive and safe so he'll leave her to go to gallifrey. meanwhile, he lied to her, saying he found gallifrey even though he hadn't, so she would leave him and go be happy with danny. real gift of the magi shit here. they find out they were lying to each other in last xmas, and she asks to travel with him again.

and THEN we get to series 9, and shit starts to go down.

from under the lake:

(Clara takes off her jacket and heads for the doors.)

DOCTOR: Whoa! Ho, ho, ho, ho! Where do you think you're going?

CLARA: Out there, where the action is.

DOCTOR: Look, you, er-

CLARA: What?

DOCTOR: Oh, this is my own fault. I like adventures as much as the next man. If the next man is a man who likes adventures. Even so, don't, don't go native.

CLARA: What do you mean? I'm not.

DOCTOR: Look, there's a whole dimension in here, but there's only room for one me.

the doctor's noticing how reckless she's become, and he's worried, because he's gone through a lot of miserable Shit and he's only survived because of his gay little space powers that let him cheat death. and he's seen companions fall to this before, and he doesn't want that for her.

however, we also see him being increasingly reckless this season, with what he does for/to ashildr. there's a couple other examples of this, like him thinking she's dead for a good while in zygon inversion. but it eventually culminates in face the raven, when she takes on rigsy's (for lack of a better word) curse, in order to be a step ahead of ashildr.

RIGSY: You're serious? You actually expect me to give you my death sentence?

CLARA: Ssh! Go on. I've always wanted a tattoo. You know, something small, discreet.

RIGSY: Clara. Cut it out.

CLARA: Weren't you listening? I'm under the Mayor's personal protection. And it's absolute, apparently. Look, she controls the Raven, so I will never have to face it. This is clever.

RIGSY: But this is putting you in danger.

CLARA: No, this is us talking the opposition into their own trap. This is Doctor 101. We're buying time. We get all of the aliens on our side in the next half an hour, and then we reveal I've got the chronolock, not you, and boom! We buy ourselves more time to find the real killer.

RIGSY: The Doctor would never let you do this.

CLARA: Doctor 102. Never tell anyone your actual plan. He'll have a tantrum when he finds out. And then, when we confront Ashildr, she'll want to take the chronolock off just to shut him up. What happens if you don't go home tonight to Jen and Lucy, eh? If you never go home? You really want your little girl growing up without a father just because he wouldn't take a risk? You trusted us to save you, so trust us. Come on.

she has this doctor style plan, and it's Exactly the kind of thing he would do! she literally manipulates Rigsy into doing what she wants by reminding him of his family.

except obviously, it goes wrong. she accepts her fate, and says goodbye, telling the doctor not to take revenge.

CLARA: Well, if Danny Pink can do it, so can I.

DOCTOR: Do what?

CLARA: Die right. Die like I mean it. Face the Raven.

DOCTOR: No. This, this isn't happening. This can't be happening.

CLARA: Maybe this is what I wanted. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is why I kept running. Maybe this is why I kept taking all those stupid risks. Kept pushing it.

DOCTOR: This is my fault.

CLARA: This is my choice.

DOCTOR: I let you get reckless.

CLARA: Why? Why shouldn't I be so reckless? You're reckless all the bloody time. Why can't I be like you?

DOCTOR: Clara, there's nothing special about me. I am nothing, but I'm less breakable than you. I should have taken care of you .

he's saying, we're equals, but it's harder to kill me! it's very similar to the "withering and dying" conversation he has with rose in school reunion.

the doctor, of course, ignores her request not to take revenge or punish himself over this. he's sent to the confession dial, a place meant to be for peace and facing your fears before you die, but it's been turned against him, turned into a torture chamber to force information out of him. he's stuck in there for billions of years, finally making it back to gallifrey, and he tries to abuse timelord technology to save clara. but it doesn't work, she's still caught in that moment between life and death.

CLARA: One question. And you will answer. How long was the Doctor trapped inside the confession dial?

OHILA: We think four and a half billion years.

GENERAL: He could have left any time he wanted. He just had to say what he knew. The dial would have released him.

(Clara turns back to the Doctor.)

CLARA: Four and a half billion years?

DOCTOR: If she says so.

(Clara drops to her knees.)

CLARA: No. Why would you even do that? I was dead! I was dead and gone. Why? Why would you even do that to yourself?

by the end of the episode, he's not only lost clara, but all his memories of her, because he was so self destructive.

CLARA: I didn't mean to do this. I'm sorry.

DOCTOR: It's okay. It's okay. I went too far. I broke all my own rules. I became the Hybrid. This is right. I accept it.

CLARA: I can't. There has to be something I can do.

DOCTOR: Smile for me. Go on, Clara Oswald, one last time.

which brings us to the greek tragedy. clara orchestrates her own downfall. she flies too close to the sun, she dies because of her own hubris. she forgets that she's human, that she's mortal, because she sees herself as above other humans. clara is a complicated, nuanced, and flawed character, and while I would absolutely hate to know her in real life, her arc is fascinating and complex.

the doctor and clara have this codependent platonic relationship that goes so far, runs so deep, that they would literally destroy the universe from one another -- and, in fact, they almost did.

moral of the story: the 12 era is incredible beginning to end and it deserves more appreciation

[julemmaes]

Thoughts on Thomas and Alastair reading red white and Royal blue together in modern AU.

uhm yES PLEASE

This contains spoilers for Red, White and Royal Blue. Enjoy!

Imagine them in bed right after dinner cause they're one of those couples who ditch their friends to read

Thomas coming back home with this book Matthew and Cordelia have been ranting about for the past weeks

And Alastair is weirded out by the fact that he has two copies, "Why would you buy two?"

Thomas just shrugs, "I didn't. Cordelia gave me hers, cause she told me you'd spoil anything the second you read it."

They settle in bed and Alastair waits until Thomas is ten pages in to start his, cause Cordelia wasn't wrong about him spoiling everything

Thomas is a calm reader, only crying when you're supposed to cry and reading a book without having to talk about it for the rest of your life

Alastair is the complete opposite

He frowns and screams at the books and always goes to Thomas to make him read single sentences before starting to rant about what fucked up shit the characters are doing

Thomas usually doesn't understand anything of what he says, but he also stops doing whatever he's doing, focusing all his attention on Alastair until he just storms out of the room to continue reading the book

Alastair is also a ugly crier when it comes to books

And a thrower

He once hit Thomas by mistake and it was because of a character's death. Imagine his guilt just adding to his grief and picture a very distraught Alastair while he's being coddled by his boyfriend

Alastair has laughed and chuckled way too many times in Thomas' opinion, but hasn't commented on anything yet

Until, "Oh my sweet jesus, bOY YOUR GAY IS SHOWING."

Thomas has to laugh at that and turns towards him, "What happened?"

Alastair is shaking his head in disbelief, "Alex is hating Henry with every fiber of his body one page and then he's brushing his posters the next? He's dumb."

"He reminds me of someone." he mutters

Alastair ignores him

"I'm living for Henry calling Alex out on his shit behaviour." Alastair whispers at some point, with a large smile on his face

Something hits Thomas on the leg and when he looks up he notices Alastair with his eyes and mouth wide, "The cAKE!"

"Homoerotic frat bro mishap - gotta love this woman."

"Tom," he calls him, "have you ever hate-read my wikipedia page?"

"You don't have a wik-"

"But, honestly, who does he think he's fooling? This boy is dumb dumb." He laughs, "Mad stupid."

From time to time Thomas just hears "Stan Zahra." or "Stan Ellen." and he just smiles

At some point Alastair just screams-laughs and goes "I'm going to thROW UP ON YOU, I'M DYING." before falling silent again without any trace of amusement seconds later

Thomas is startled when Alastair screech, "BABYY!"

"What?"

"ALEX IS SAYING HENRY'S SKIN IS SOFT."

Thomas is enjoying the book just as much, but he can't wait for the moment when they both realise they like each other, so he just keeps reading

"Alex was fAST starting to see Henry as a human being and not some kind of monster."

"Oh my god, why is Alex being such a dickhead-"

After a few minutes of silence, Alastair gasps, bringing his book higher and buring his face between the pages before screeching again.

"WHAT'S GOING OOON?"

Thomas snorts with wide eyes

"HE'S CHECKING FOR HENRY'S TEXTS!!!"

After a while, Alastair turns to Thomas, brushing his arm, "Are you liking it?"

He nods, "I like the fact that Henry uses capitals at the beginning of his texts while Alex doesn't, it's the little things."

During The Turkey Scene™️ Alastair just loses it and Thomas has to stop reading to calm him down

"Oh god Tom fucking finally-" he turns to Thomas, "Henry looks fucking rested for once."

Thomas nods again, "And Alex noticed."

That makes a wide grin spread over Alastair's face

Thomas understands he's reached the New Year's Eve when all he can hear from Alastair are gasps and curses

"NO. NONONO. NOO!" Alastair hits Thomas on the arm, "Alex just kissed Nora and Henry ran away."

Thomas smirks, "Just keep reading."

"THEY'RE KISSING. GOD YES. THEY'RE KISSING."

"NOOOOO!" Alastairs screams, "WHY DID HE LEAVE WTF?!?!"

"Thomas I'm breaking up with you if you don't tell me now this is gonna be fixed somehow in the next three pages."

Thomas just clicks his tongue, shaking his head

"Wha-" Alastair just huffs a laugh. He turns to Thomas, pointing to the book, "Baby have you read this? Alex is- He thinks he's what now?" He's straight up laughing now, "Straight?!"

"He did what with Liam?"

"This is literally the gayest shit I've ever read in my life."

"Nah ha, I don't believe it."

"How can he think he's straight?"

"Oh god they watched porn together- HE JERKED HIM OFF."

Alastair just hits his head against the headboard, "I didn't think I'd have to go through the who the fuck am I in this book. I THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR JUST BY THE FACT THAT HE FUCKING CARESSED HENRY'S POSTERS."

"AND THEN THIS NEVERENDING LIST OF GAY THINGS."

Alastair panicked for a short time when Henry was seen with that blonde but started screeching again after a moment

Thomas bursts into laughter when he heard Alastair mutters God save the Queen

"'I want you on the bed.' OH JESUS CHRIST THOMAS IT'S US."

"Tom?"

Thomas turns when he hears the hesitancy in his boyfriend's voice. Alastair's face is red and he's biting his lower lip

"You okay? What part are you reading?"

"No, uhm," Alastair scratches his head, "can we -" he clears his voice, "Can we make out?"

Thomas blinks a couple of times, "Sure."

A heavy make out session ensues before they both can start reading again

"We need to buy cupcakes tomorrow." Alastair mutters at some point, chewing on his lip

"Thomas this fucking book is the best thing I've ever read. I'm loving it so much."

Alastair closes the book around midnight, but Thomas knows he's not finished. He doesn't look his way thinking he's just gonna go to the bathroom

When Thomas senses him move around on the sheets and lay his head on hip lap, he closes the book too and look down at his boyfriend

"What's going on? We just made out."

Alastair grunts in his legs and looks up at him, "You're my match."

Thomas doesn't understand, but he smiles and leans down to kiss him

He resumes reading and realises Alastair had read more than him when he reaches Alex's and Ellen's conversation about matches. Thomas looks at Alastair once again and pesters him with kisses

It's around 3am when Alastair starts yawning

"Alas, you should go to bed."

He shakes his head, "No, I'm not tired, I wanna finish the book."

"The book will be here tomorrow."

"I don't care."

He drops the fight, knowing perfectly fine that he'll never win this

Alastair can be quite impressive when he finds something he likes - especially when it's books

"Fucking homophobes."

"I'm gonna riot if somebody doesn't let Alex call Henry right the fuck now."

"HENRY ASKED ALEX IF HE IS OKAY? BABY WE'RE WORRIED ABOUT YOU."

The end of the book is read so fast that Thomas can't keep up with him and is now more than 20 pages back

Alastair is a crying and screaming mess by the end of it and Thomas has never seen him so upset in their time together

He's just spoiled the whole book for him, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care that it's now 5am and they have work in a couple of hours, cause Alastair just looks his way with wide eyes and his mouth open as if he's just realized something shocking

"Oh my god, did Pez, June and Nora had a threesome in that hotel room?"

tsc tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just send me an ask or dm me)

bold tags don’t work

@storysaremyreality @clara-sm @zoyalinas-nazyalensky @harryscameron @jamescordelias @grxceblqckthxrn @stitchkiss @ahiretsinging @allofmywonders @tremendousheadachecollector @tlh-tea @taco-taco-belle @city-of-fae @ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes @fclklcres @ghostlivvy @matthewwfairchildd  @abigneignenn @imherongraystairstrash @rednailpolishqueen @herondamnn @parababitch-herondale @silent-nerd @fairherondale @starryherondales @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @claralady @anne-reads @darkshadowqueensrule

[xxlovingfandomsxx]

Ill Timed Confessions

Paring: OC! V x Santino D’Antonio

Warnings: death, gunshot wound, nothing but pain 😭

Word Count: 1,429 

A/N: This is an AU for the ending of chapter 13 of one of the most amazing stories, called Children of Ares written by the talented @the-darklings​ If you haven’t read COA yet, you really should, it’s a masterpiece. But anyway, I’m sorry for the pain that you’re probably going to experience from this and I hope you enjoy the ride, I guess? 

Clara races to the Continental, her lungs aching for air and her limbs screaming for rest be damned. Ares’ words still running through her head, he loves you, gives her another burst of speed as she finally lays her eyes on those familiar doors.

Clara runs straight through the lobby where she spots Charon who manages to get out the word lounge before she starts barreling towards her destination, a feeling of unease and worry flow through her as she pushes herself to run like her life depended on it.

I’m coming grumpy, hold on

Clara repeats her mantra over and over until she sees the warm and welcoming light of the lounge. She’s finally reached the top of the stairs when she hears Winston’s wary voice “Johnathan… just walk away” 

At that moment, Clara realizes that no matter what Winston said, no matter what anyone said or did, he won't stop.

John can't stop, she knows that now, she’s always known that he won’t ever stop, he's too determined to place a bullet between Santino’s eyes. Time stops as she comes to a decision, the finality settling deep in her gut, a gentle calmness washes through her body as she slides down the banister.

“Yeah Johnathan,” Santino starts, in a mocking tone, “Just walk-” 

BANG

A harsh quiet fills the room, a sudden unexpected stillness that has left the three men utterly speechless as they watch the scene unfold before them with looks of terror and complete shock.

Clara stumbles a bit as she tries to grasp onto the table for balance. She clutches onto the wound as she looks towards Santino, his normal expression of a cool, arrogant heir gone, an expression of pure terror replacing it.

Clara reaches out for his face, smoothing out his furrowed eyebrows, “I told you I’d come for you” She gives him a weak smile as she finally collapses, her injuries and fatigue finally catching up with her.

Multiple things happen at once, Santino reacts the fastest, jumping out of his seat to get to her. Winston struggling to keep his composure in check, John standing absolutely still, staring at the spot Clara was just occupying.

I shot her

Santino gently gathers her into his arms, “Amore, can you hear me? Open your eyes please? For me?” He watches as she struggles to open her eyes and sets her gaze on Santino’s face.

“Grumpy, are you alright?” She reaches for his face and he leans his cheek into her open palm, savoring the familiar burn of her touch. “Don’t worry about me cara mia, you just focus on keeping your eyes open, Hm?” 

He frantically looks around the room until eyes land on John, fury burning in his eyes. “Look at what you’ve done! This is all YOUR FAULT!” He starts to yell in sharp Italian while an unmoving John finally lays his eyes on Clara.

I shot her

Running footsteps can be heard barreling down the stairs as Ares and the Elites made their way onto the scene. Ares does a quick sweep of the room and lands her gaze on her boss yelling at John. She slowly moves her gaze unto the body in Santino’s arms and her eyes widen as she realizes who it is.

She slowly makes her way to them, her eyes burning and slowly filling with unshed tears. Clara notices her first, a small smile on her face as she sees Ares inching her way towards them. 

Clara struggles to lift her hands to speak to Ares, Santino stopping his yelling to look in the same direction as her. “Ares, grazie a Dio, I need your help… Clara was shot and she needs a doctor. You have to go find one before it's too late.”

“Grumpy-”

“No cara mia, try to stay still, we’ll get you help. What are you all just standing around for… GO GET HELP!” He yells in italian. 

“Santino, look at me… Please?” Santino finally gets a good look at Clara, eyes starting to fill with tears as he met her gaze, surprised to see a loving gaze staring back at him.

“I think I have to break another promise to you grumpy, I don't think I’m gonna make it to Paris with you” She let out a sigh, her breathing growing heavier as she continues to lose blood.

She gives him a teary smile “I don’t regret it, taking the bullet for you, so don’t beat yourself over it when I’m gone okay? Don’t do anything stupid either because I won’t be able to save you next time” She inhales deeply, Santino feels a few tears slip out and cascade down his cheek. 

“I promise to try not to do anything stupid amore mio” He grabs onto her hand laying against his cheek as he feels it starting to slip.

“Ares, you know how Santino manages to attract danger wherever he goes so you have to make sure he’s safe okay?” Ares manages to sign a weak I promise before she falls to her knees beside them, tears falling down her face as she gazes upon the closest thing she had to family, struggling to breathe.

“I left a letter for you in my room, Cha-Charon will be able to retrieve it for you” She inhales another sharp breath. Clara feels moisture on her cheeks, she gives her Santi a teary eyed smile.

“I know that you lo-love me grumpy,” He looks startled by the confession,”I don’t know how you managed to do it but you snuck your way into my he-heart” He lets out a shaky breath.

“What-what are you saying cara?” Clara sighs, “You’d have me be weak in front of you Santi?” She teased, he gave her a flash of a smile, “I-I,  I love you Santino D’Antonio… I’m sorry for the crappy timing.” They both let out a weak chuckle.

“I’m sorry it’s taken you so long to hear it.” He shakes his head, “I would’ve waited for a lifetime if it meant you would have said it. Oh amore mio, I-” He takes in a sharp breath, trying not to let the dam break, “Clara, te amo… Ti amo con tutto il cuore” He whispers the last part, making sure that only she heard it.

Clara smiles and feels a warm type of feeling spread through her chest, the feeling disappearing as fast as it spread leaving her feeling numb. Santino leans down and leaves a kiss on her forehead, gently bumping it against his own. 

She leaned forward a bit, her lips ghosting Santino's, he could feel her weak exhales this close. With his heart practically pounding out of his chest, he closes the distance and finally kisses the love of his life.

Santino feels a warmness spread throughout his body, along with a sense of relief, having learned that she did love him back. He pulled away reluctantly, cursing his lungs for their need of oxygen. 

He felt her hand slip from his face and frantically looked back into her eyes. "Amore?" The light in her eyes dimmed as she managed a final adoring smile, Santino watching in anguish as she exhales for the last time, slipping into death's cold embrace.

"Cara mia?" Santino shakes her once "Clara? Wake up, amore, wake up" He shakes her again, a bit more forcefully. "Clara don't leave me please don't leave me" Santino feels the dam break, all his unshed tears making their way down his face, falling onto her cheek.

He repeats it over and over, wake up, shaking and tears streaming down his face. Ares trying to pull him away, finally succumbing to her grief as she leans onto Santino's shoulder. 

Winston, still struggling with his emotions, makes his way over to them, gently grasping onto Santino's shoulder as his sobs grew louder. The finality of Clara's death sweeping through the room, not a dry eye in sight. 

John sitting himself onto a chair, tears in his eyes as he realizes he killed the only other person he ever cared about in the world, Charon finally making his way into the lounge, taking in the scene before him, a look of sadness crosses his face as he inches closer. 

Santino doesn't let go of Clara until she's safely placed on a gurney, attaching himself to Ares as his grief and anger take over and he dry heaves into her neck as they try to comfort each other, knowing full well that they may never recover from this devastating loss of their beautiful viper.

[vaguely-gestures-to-the-void]

Hindsight: My thoughts on Loki (2021)

Welcome back folks. Read the innocence dying inside me as I accept that this show eats my expectations for lunch and leaves me like it's going to buy milk.

As a side note from what I said in my first review, here’s an interesting article. Apparently I was clowning because the Gobi desert scene was filmed (probably? idk) with the tech from the Mandalorian. I think the studios were the same. Oh well. https://www.atlasofwonders.com/2021/06/loki-filming-locations.html

Episode 4: THE NEXUS EVENT

Pre-title scene

The new perspective of Asgard is incredible.

Oh baby Sylvie, what did they do to you. Also, RAVONNA??

The TVA through a child’s eyes is heartbreaking. The mixed use of shots that were familiar (the feet walking into the TVA) and new (the TVA logo on the floor) convey how though routine, this is an alien experience for Sylvie.

She too wants to help the man being dragged in. Maybe Sylvie was a better person than Loki, the TVA taking her away was what changed it.

We don’t see Casey, but iIt’s the same ‘sign here’ guy. The changing perspective and music really alters the mood created, contrasting the whimsical procedure we followed in episode one.

She hadn’t even said much in her life. They knew how to influence the audience’s emotions, that's for sure. Props to the actress, I felt genuine concern for her before I remembered that she’s acting.

TVA

Ravonna probably underestimated Sylvie as a Loki, a mistake that cost her greatly.

The golden doors.

Ravonna looks tense and a bit fearful.

Scattered throughout the episode are eyes watching. George Orwell’s 1984, anyone?

Big Brother is watching.

Mobius! He’s a good friend to Ravonna, but there’s a power imbalance.

Ravonna is shaken. Her past failure is haunting her.

Someone edit the “What? How?” into “Wow.” It’ll be a service.

Lamentis - 1

Loki’s apology and Sylvie reflecting on her childhood are the conclusion to the previous episode. Faced with death, Loki realises that her goals were hindered by his actions. His apology is the first time he acknowledges he had something to do with it. Sylvie’s offering her emotional vulnerability in the form of memories. Her mind and experiences are her most prized possession because they’re all she has of the person who she was as Loki, her childhood and what she was supposed to be. Her glorious purpose, what really makes a Loki a ‘Loki’ was her life.

THEY TRUST EACH OTHER. THIS WAS WHAT CAUSED THE NEXUS EVENT.

C H A R A C T E R D E V E L O P M E N T.

Ravonna pointed out that Loki will always be a “lying scourge” but they went against this. In any timeline, this could cause a nexus event. They found a middle ground.

“That should be setting off alarms if someone steps on the wrong leaf.” I had a whole idea about entropy and the timeline being an isolated system but I struggled to define an isolated system, and thus I couldn’t use the whole irreversible process causing entropy to grow causing a br- if you have a clue of what I’m going on about, or want to know more, I’ll explain my thoughts. I can understand why this isn’t scientifically accurate and I’m no physicist.

The unbranched timeline means all the things that were speculated - Wanda’s kids, what happened on Saakar, all of it - is gone.

“Any news on C - 20?”I called it! B-15 is having doubts! Her subtle unease building up throughout the ep is perfect!

Most settlements have a street design that can be from space. Sharru doesn’t.

“No. We may lose... ...you’re amazing!” Damn it literally took the end of a world for Loki to change as a person.

“Their smiles. If that isn’t people accepting their deaths I don’t know what is. Man, I just want both of them to be happy.

Please don’t let that be the love theme, it’s so pretty.

The music fading into the TVA theme as they get separated is so sad.

Time Theater 25

Back to square one in terms of trust with these two, but now they have history and hurt feelings too!

Oh Mobius.

Cycles are a part of who Loki is within Norse mythology (from what I know, correct me if I’m wrong). This scene is conflict.

Loki needs both Mobius and Sylvie to incite change. One can empathise whilst the other believes in him.

Mobius believes in Loki like no one else in the TVA. He treats him like an individual, they developed a bond in episode 2, so his disappointment and anger were genuine. This is reflected in their dialogue.

Even when Loki was going through all the Feels in ep 1, he didn’t shout at Mobius. It makes it more heartbreaking when Mobius laughs and dismisses him after the “TVA is lying to you” thing. His laugh was so bitter, it’s like his belief that Loki would be the variant to prove that variants were individuals had been shattered. What Mobius doesn’t realise is that Loki was genuinely trying to warn him. The trust between them was fragile but Mobius needed to come to his own conclusions before he could see that Loki had broken out of the mold the Time Keepers set for him.

“Just kind of an asshole and a bad friend.” Y’all, Mobius doesn’t rise to Loki’s baits. He’s so hurt.

I can’t be the only one that thought Loki was going to be brainwashed when they saw the red door. Turns out it’s just a time cell.

I love Mobius but he makes me feel so conflicted. Oh shit, he’s my problematic fave.

Watching Loki get his ass handed to him by Lady Sif shouldn’t be this funny.

This particular memory reflects what Mobius will talk about later, Loki being abandon by the people around him.

Putting Loki through a memory that was physically and emotionally painful was nasty. If you hear something horrible, over and over especially from a friend it would take a toll on your self-perception. Mobius was hurt by Loki leaving him, he’s getting revenge whilst doing his job and getting into Loki’s head.

Ravonna’s office

Ravonna has hang ups from failing with Sylvie. Who she is and what she knows is going to be interesting.

Heck I just realised are Mobius’ lapels not real? They look fake.

I wonder whether the “mastermind” thing was foreshadowing the next ep.

Am I the only one who thinks this isn’t the first Loki Mobius has dealt with? Could that mean there’s a reunion next ep?!

“Variant pet.” There’s a culture of dehumanising variants within the TVA.

The cuts showing both B-15 and Mobius’ faces reminds me of ep 1, but now there’s a new angle to things. B-15 certainly sees things differently.

Time Theatre 25

Lady Sif would kill with short hair. Or long hair. It’s Lady Sif, she’s a badass.

Loki’s exhale reminds me of how he tenses before a fight.

Notable things about this scene:

Heavy use of metaphors to trade jabs.

The lights are shifting in a consistent pattern, scanning the room almost.

Shots are constantly moving and cutting.

Loki’s speech pattern changes when he’s lying. Nice touch there.

When they start arguing in earnest, the shots are close ups of their faces, not circling around each other.

Loki was at first willing to talk to Mobius if he was treated with respect, the way they engaged in episode 2. He also wants to trust that Mobius won’t kill him. Mobius dismisses him (rightly so, his trust is gone) and Loki’s pride about ‘not working for anyone’ gets in the way rather than listening to each other. Loki’s behaviour is cyclic and his lying about Sylvie affirms Mobius’s understanding that Loki won’t (or maybe can’t) change. I wouldn’t be too surprised if Mobius is a Loki, the man’s uncannily good at reading him. He deduces that Loki and Sylvie have a bond and unsettles Loki to get answers out of him, because he knows that’s the only way he can force Loki to reveal his cards. He definitely wasn’t expecting Loki’s earlier admission to be the truth. What Mobius did was not right, but it sure was effective.

“No. Not partners.” I believe this. They had an understanding, but their goals differ. Maybe just give Sylvie her own show.

“Guess you don’t do partners.” MOBIUS WHY ARE YOU SO BUTT-HURT? Probably to make Loki feel bad ik, but it’s still funny to think Lightning McQueen is salty.

That memory really hurt Loki. He stuttered.

Loki fixates on Sylvie rather than his own freedom. This was the cue to Mobius to start interrogating.

Bruh, the feeling they were experiencing better be friendship.

This made me uncomfortable because I was so sure we weren’t gonna get a romantic subplot that I related the characters to my actual family relationships. Marvel. Why?

The music combined with Mobius’ subtle shift in demeanor from irritated to mockery was very unsettling to me. I never realised how good an actor Owen Wilson was.

“Our interests are aligned.” Once Mobius tells him the truth, Loki does the same. I really hope this is the extent of their relationship. Just let them recognise one another as equals. Please Marvel.

Mobius’ hands twitching, the slight swallow. Yeesh, he certainly doesn’t think Loki’s lying, but he’s not about to accept it.

Loki’s head shake is sad. He knows he can’t convince Mobius.

“That I can respect. I mean the lies you tell yourself.” This was the best writing imo. Loki doesn’t make any final attempts to connive his way out of the situation because telling the truth to someone he’d trusted had failed. He willingly walks into the Time Cell.

Time Theater 47

B-15 being unable to support herself, having to rely on the structures around her to stay upright. This woman deserves so much y’all.

WE NEED HER NAME MARVEL.

You better appreciate her beyond shipping her with Sylvie or istg.

The music is so mournful. It just emphasises how much everything changing is going to hurt not only the main characters. Lives change because of the TVA and the events of this episode, it’s not overlooked by the writing or music.

The poster and the 1984 parallels. Exquisite!

Sylvie not sitting straight made me snort.

Ravonna Renslayer’s office

More Theremin music! This time I’m pretty sure it’s Carnival of the Animals, XIII. Le Cygne (the Swan) : Le carnaval des animaux: No. 12, Le cygne (arr. For theremin and piano) by Clara Rockmore.

Fun fact! Clara Rockmore influenced theremin music and the instrument and was a virtuoso of the instrument. Give her a google, it’s worth it. Also look up Leon Theremin, he was (among other things) a Soviet spy. There’s a great Wiki spiral for anyone there.

Mobius was probably being lined up for a high position in the TVA. Damn.

TemPads are personal, or have different levels of clearance.

Mobius didn’t stop interrogating Ravonna throughout that scene. He knew that she wasn’t telling him the whole truth.

Sleight of hand wasn’t shown how Loki and Sylvie do it, they didn’t use misdirection.

Ravonna knows something is up with Mobius. Maybe he hasn’t been around for long if this is his ‘career case’.

The pacing becomes really fast like in the end of episode 2 as conflicts get resolved. Buckle up comrades.

2050 Roxxcart Disaster

I don’t have much to add, it’s a powerful scene.

They use close ups whenever a truth bombshell is dropped.

The music varies considerably between these scenes, each one has a different tone.

“We’re the same.” With what she knows of B-15, Sylvie knew not to be smug when delivering the news about B-15’s life.

B-15 crying in the rain hurts.

“I looked happy.”

TVA archives, Time Cell, Time Theater 25

The floor opposite Mobius is FE3, above it is 3FG.

Oh Mobius.

C-20 deserved better, I'd love to see her later in the series.

The music goes from mournful to harsh and we’re left in silence when it cuts to the Time Cell.

“You told me to shut up.” Loki can be salty sometimes.

“Do you really think you deserve to be alone?” Mobius is rattled, he wants to unsettle Loki.

The music starts to build somewhere between “...your connection... “ and Loki saying “‘WE?’”

The faint tinkling reminds me of the Avatar (blue people) score.

“How about the word of a friend?” This is Loki’s olive branch. When he admits Loki was right, their trust is tentatively reinstated.

The music is finally back to that chaotic theme we know. I think it’s the TVA’s theme.

“You can be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good. I mean just in case anyone ever told you different.” Mobius corrects what he says in the first ep.

They are friends y’all I’m so sad.

Mobius can lie through his teeth like it’s nobody’s business.

Pruning hurts, Mobius’ face is in agony.

Loki’s tears. GIVE THEM ALL JETSKIS.

Ravonna takes a moment to compose herself.

Time Keepers (the final smackdown)

Why are the last 10 minutes always so insane?

Loki’s eyes only show hurt. I’ll leave.

Ravonna’s so sharp, she instantly catches Sylvie’s wet hair.

All of our expectations from the trailers always get yeeted out of a window because the scenes are never really what we think they are. I get that that should be expected but it’s refreshing that the writing is never what we think it is.

Did anyone else notice the egg timer/infinity sign murals on one of the hallways to the left of Sylvie?

Ravonna is so cold (and yet I’d simp for her).

The M.C. Escher staircases I see you set designers/CGI folks.

B-15 just gets knocked out. They better not kill her for no reason or I riot.

I’m pretty sure that Sylvie ripped off one of Ravonna’s TVA badges (or buttons) when she fought her.

Sylvie’s the better fighter, she’s had to use it more often though.

The elevator doors stay open.

It would be so funny if we get an elevator scene where Sylvie is just dragging Ravonna somewhere.

They really led us on with the Time Keepers, particularly the middle one. I was somewhat convinced there’d be something more to it. I’m interested to see where it goes.

Ep 4 review

I really don’t have much to add with these last two episodes. I’ve definitely come to appreciate that no matter whether you liked the writing of the show or not, it’s never what you expect. Is that a good thing? I guess that that remains to be seen. Nonetheless, I appreciate how much effort went into this series. It’s been a fun romp, I’ll be back with my reviews of the final episodes. I’ll also stop posting Loki content to my blog because the Gods know that my followers don’t read this lol.

I’m just going to survive until the season is over and then hopefully keep my sanity together until the next Marvel content or at least Dr. Strange.

Here's the link to my episode 3 review.

Thank you all for being here, you're wonderful my loves.

[lokisrare]

yours

PART TWO HERE

pairings: george mackay x ofc

word count: 1.8k

a/n:  this was going to be a smut but then decided to cut that part off lmao, just the teasing, k i’m leaving, bye love you.

Black and white. That was tonight’s theme at this place.

To say she wasn’t a big fan of this place would’ve been a lie, her most remarkable memories happened here; it had kind of a grungy vibe but with all the flashlights and the common dance music, it looked just like other night club.

“Sex on the beach?” The bartman asked. Miles. He was this incredibly tall blonde guy every girl wanted but yet, he was married, and to another extremely beautiful guy with asian features. It’s was like a race, she always thought, who’s the one who looks more like a god.

“Please,” she said looking at the group of girls going for another round of tequila while they all greeted Mary, the girl who she had come with. She just stayed behind to order her usual cocktail before arriving, tequila was just not her thing anymore.

“They’re gonna regret all those rounds tomorrow” Miles laughed a little while finishing her cocktail, “here you go, try not to ruin this for you too or you won’t be able to drink anything.”

She scoffed.

“Beer is always there for me.”

“Touche, Miss. Have a great night!”

Her teenage years where mostly a blur, the nights out and the illegal parties she got into with the five girls sitting a few meters away had their collateral effects, like not being able to even smell tequila and some other alcoholic beverages. Sometimes she’d wonder if a feeling of regret should go along with those memories but no, not even a little bit of shame; teenage years were made to leave freely and to explore and that’s exactly what she did.

“Danna!” A red hair got up from the table and -literally- jumped on her, the pink glittery veil she was wearing making her nose hitch as the girl hugged her, “I’ve missed you a lot, but like, A LOT.”

“Clara, you saw me three days ago.” Danna giggled. Clara was a lightweight but who could blame her, it was her last night as a not-married-woman as she liked to say.

Clara was a young soul and Danna would’ve never imagined she’d be the first one getting married but Kit came into the picture and things changed, he was a good guy and so much like her friend, a made-for-each-other kinda thing.

“Oh, right. But who cares I always miss you, we used to see each other everyday!”

“That was 5 years ago during high school, Clari.” Danna laughed while the red haired shrugged and took her arm turning both of them around.

“Ugh, doesn’t matter! Here are the girls! And those two there are my sisters in law.”

Danna greeted everyone on the table, they talked a little, the typical chat:

How are you?

How’s work?

How’s life, basically. And that was it, then the rounds of vodka started and after a few of them she could already feel a little bit tipsy, laughing about the stupidest thing.

“So, Danna” Lacey asked from across the table, “How’s George? When are we getting another wedding?” she asked and everyone around cheered except for her, of course, as she remembered the events occurred some hours ago.

“You’re acting like a child, Danna!” George shouted from behind as he followed her into the room.

“Acting like a child? I’m just asking for a little respect over here.” She turned on her heels looking at him with a death glare, “I’m fucking aware your job includes some kissing and stuff sometimes and I can take that, what I can’t stand is this stupid ass bitch throwing herself at you every goddamn time, even when I’M THERE. Does she even know you’re taken?”

George looked down at her. The tension was thick enough to cut it with a knife and right then she felt like punching him on his perfect teeth. Asshole.

“She’s 25 years older than me, Danna, and is married, do you really think she’s doing that? Of course you’re being childish, and yes, she knows you’re my girlfriend, everyone knows.” He said annoyed.

“Fine George, let’s put this the other way around because I think your brain might not be working right know.” George scoffed, rolling his eyes and Danna felt like showering him with curses.

“You go visit me at my work place and Logan’s there, you know I see him as a friend but he’d always wanted more, and he’s there and he’s touching my hair and winking at me all flirty and not so subtly inviting me out for a drink, what the fuck would you do, George, uh?” He just stared at her and then sighed, not knowing what to say.

“Exactly. Now if you excuse me I’m gonna go over to Mary’s to get ready there and while I’m gone, go fuck yourself, George. You’re childish.”

She felt someone snapping their fingers right in front of her face, now everyone on the table looking expectant, waiting for her answer. Ugh, she hated it. The whole attention thing.

“Uhm, we don’t know yet, George’s new project will take kinda long and now that I’m in charge of the magazine it’s not like we have the time to think about it. Plus we’ve only been dating for 8 months, Lacey.” Danna explained letting out a nervous laugh.

“Duh, I know, but you’ve known each other for like, what, for years now? It just took you guys way too long to realize you were head over heels for each other.”

Go to hell, Lacey. Danna wanted to disappear, she hated talking about her relationship and now everyone seemed interested on it.

“Yeah, I guess, you’ll be the first one to know if there’s a proposal.”

Lacey nodded, happy with the answer she got, letting out an ear-killing shout and then everyone just kept talking (screaming) while Danna just sinked a little on her place, she kinda regretted reacting that way with George but also the alcohol in her system told her he deserved it, so she grabbed the vodka shot in front if her and drank it.

George had a bad temper but so did she and even though most of the time they agreed on many things they were jealous people, the problem was that Danna accepted it, while he didn’t and she hated that.

Clara clapping got her out of the bubble.

“Fiiiiiiine, the boys are here, you know girls, Kit and I decided to end the night together, our not-married-yet celebrations joining, yay!” Clara cheered as she waved at her soon-to-be husband coming our way with other men behind him, one of those being George.

Oh fuck me, Clara. Why.

Almost too violently, Danna got it rid of her blazer, adjusting her lacy white top and her black leather skirt, she didn’t know why was she doing it, was she nervous to see him? like a fucking teenager? Obviously not, but she did wanted him to look at her.

When the group of men got to the table, they greeted everyone with a smile and that’s when George landed his eyes on her, down to her cleavage and staring little too much, the whole situation sending a shiver through her whole body. He stood there watching her like it was just the two of them.

“I love this song! oh my God! Let’s go dance people! Party’s on!” Clara got up taking Kit’s hand dragging him into the dance floor, followed by everyone else. Except for George and Danna.

She got up slowly, fixing her skirt. When she looked up, George was standing there and maybe if she still wasn’t so mad, she would’ve gone straight to kiss him right there because of how delightful he looked with those black jeans and the white half buttoned shirt.

When she tried to walk past him, George grabbed her arm bringing her back, their chests touching slightly.

“I’m sorry.” He said against her ear and Danna let out a sarcastic laugh. Maybe she was being childish now not letting the whole thing go but she was tipsy and he was an asshole earlier.

“I’m sure you are. You should, actually. Now if you excuse me I’d like to go dancing and celebrate with my friends.” She tried to let go of his hand but George was quicker and grabbed her by the waist to hold her still, pushing her against the nearest wall.

“Stop asking like that, Danna.” He almost growled.

“Like what, George? I’m literally just trying to leave to dance with my girlfriends.” Danna said looking at him with an innocent expression.

She knew she was pushing his buttons but it would’ve been a lie not to say the most pleasant thing to watch was him flustered, his cheeks turning carmine as he clenched his jaw, the veins on his neck showing and breathing becoming uneven.

Danna’s eyes closed as George lingered his lips against the crook of her neck, not kissing, not sucking just caressing it with his soft lips, earning a sigh from her. She felt so glad they were in a dark corner.

“I told I was sorry. I would never flirt with anyone and disrespect you like that.” George said with his lips still gracing her skin. “I like you, I’m yours, Danna. All yours.”

“I just hate that woman, I’m all about sorority but she keeps making it hard for me.” George laughed at her remark and Danna furrowed her eyebrows. “Don’t laugh, you idiot. It’s true. I just hate her touching you and looking at you and kissing your lips.”

Danna’s fingers went to his cheek so their faces were mere inches apart, noses touching. George looked at her lips and smiled looking back into her eyes.

“You look stunning, y'know? Absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking.”

George said and finally kissed her. Lips moving in sync as his hands held her waist tighter, Danna hands moving to touch his exposed chest feeling his soft skin. George bit her lip and that was it for the kiss to become more desperate, his hands traveled down as she pulled his hair a little too strong. The tension growing every second as they kissed in that dark corner feeling like two hormonal teenagers all over again.

“Oh sorry, I was just looking for my purse!” someone said making both of then jump.

One of Clara’s sister in law was standing there looking completely ashamed.

“It’s ok. Don’t worry, just making up here.” Danna shrugged it off and George giggled a little. The girl smiled shyly at the both of them and left quickly.

When Danna turned to look at George she felt like leaving the place right then, even though it was not possible since she promised Clara she’d stay till the end. He stood there, his hair a mess and cheeks red, his lips were swollen and stained with her red lipstick, his white shirt a mess.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, sweetheart.” he said getting closer to her, he grabbed her throat and caressed the skin with his thumb, his eyes looking straight to her lips, “We’re going dancing now, and then I’m taking you home so I can show you don’t need to be jealous of any other woman.”

His hands gripping just little hit harder bringing her closer, so he could kiss her one last time.

“I’m yours, Danna. Yours.”

[cassandra-tangled]

Cassandra Appreciation Week Day 2: Bravery

Hello!!! Here’s my one-shot for day 2: bravery! Once again, a little late (at once again, about 1 am) but here it is!

Here’s the AO3 link

It’s a bit shorter than yesterday’s with the word count of 1,869. 

A brief summary is: Cassandra aides a distressed person on her travels.

There is some cursing, violence, and mention of a minor injury. Enjoy!

It was a miserable night.

Thick, cold fog blanketed the road Cassandra and Fidella were attempting to navigate their way along, and even earlier in daytime, the clouds had hung heavy, gray and low. Trees on either side of the path stood tall and foreboding, like stoic giants guarding a valuable treasure. Harsh winds blew to and fro, echoing like banshee screams, causing the branches of the trees to shiver and shaking Cassandra down to her core. She had to find somewhere to set up camp for the night and, if she could with the damp foliage around her, start a fire.

A shiver ran down Cassandra’s spine as a bat swooped across the path in front of her, too close for comfort to her face. “God, Fidella, it’s fucking creepy tonight, isn’t it? We need to find somewhere to camp out.”

Fidella knickered, seemingly in agreement. They made their way along the cold, muddy trail a bit further before the horse suddenly stopped in her tracks.

“What is it, girl?”

Fidella took two cautious steps back, and a shrill, ear-piercing scream cut through the air.

“Help! Somebody help me, please!”

The plea had come from not too far up the road--she could almost make out two shadowy figures, maybe fifty feet in the distance. A heavy pang hit Cassandra’s stomach, and she jumped off of her horse’s back. She took off the satchel with all of her valuables and tossed it around Fidella’s neck. Then, almost mindlessly, she unsheathed her sword from its scabbard on her back and brandished it.

“Stay here and stay safe,” she whispered to Fidella. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Silently, with all the stealth and courage she could muster, Cassandra crept up the trail. Even in the dark night, with every step Cassandra took, the figures became clearer. When she was about fifteen feet away, she could make the scene out completely--there was a woman, most likely a traveler like herself, and a menacing man had her pinned up to a tree. It was clear she had tried to defend herself--a dagger was tossed from the scene, now near Cassandra’s feet. The man had a knife to her throat, and with his free hand, was currently digging through what Cassandra could only assume were her belongings.

Cassandra’s heart jumped to her throat. What was she doing? This wasn’t her business. She should just turn around and hide in the brush with Fidella…

But she couldn’t.

Instead, Cassandra snuck up behind the man, put her sword to his neck, and kneed him in the groin, causing him to groan and drop the comparatively small knife he had brandished at the woman’s throat. Cassandra kicked it far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to get it, and quickly patted his sides to find any other weapons. She found one other dagger tucked in the waistband of his pants, and tossed it towards the other two knives.

“Move an inch without my permission and I slit your fucking throat.” Cassandra turned her attention to the doe-eyed woman against the tree. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. Now, remove your hand from her bag.”

The man obliged, but Cassandra noticed he kept something grasped in his hand. She pressed the sword harder against the man’s skin.

“All of it.”

“Christ, okay, okay. As long as you promise not to kill me.”

“We’re not there yet. Put it back.” She paused in expectation, and the man did what he was told. “Did he get anything off of you yet?”

“N-no, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Back up.” With the sword still to the man’s gullet, Cass took six paces back, and took the man with her. By the sixth pace, they had crossed the width of the trail. “Hands up.”

“Are you gonna kill me, lady?”

“No. I’m not a criminal like you. Unless you try to harm me first, of course, in which case I will readily and easily end your miserable life. Now, put your fucking hands up.”

The man complied with her request.

“Okay. Now, I’m going to let you go, and you are going to run as fast as you can, and as far as you can, up the trail. If you try to mess with us again, it’s not going to be pretty.”

“Jeez, just let me go already! What about my weapons? It’s dangerous out here.”

“I’ll let you go, but you’re not getting your weapons back. The only reason it’s dangerous out here is because of people like you and, heavens forbid you get robbed, that sounds like comeuppance to me! Honestly, you’d ought to get a job. Then--get this--you can buy a knife! I’ve been living on the road a year and a half, and not once have I stolen anything. Seriously, it’s not that hard. Reflect on yourself.” Cassandra removed the sword from the man’s neck, shoved him away from her, and brandished it in front of her. “Bye bye.”

The man took one horrified glance at Cassandra, and sprinted into the distance.

“That...was...badass.” The woman whom Cassandra had aided stared at her, slack-jawed, from across the trail. “Thank you, seriously. Who knows what could’ve happened to me? Getting robbed was the least of my worries.”

“I know.” Cassandra paused. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh...not too bad.”

“Not too bad?”

“Um...yes. He got me in the arm with his knife, though. I don’t know if it was purposeful or not.”

Cassandra crossed the trail so she was close to the other woman, and reached out her hand. “Let me see.”

The woman obliged, stretching her arm forward. There was a deep, long gash in her upper forearm, and it was bleeding steadily--the blood dripped down to her wrist. Cassandra glanced up at the woman and raised an eyebrow.

“Not too bad, huh?”

“Oh.” The woman looked down sheepishly. “It wasn’t as bad when I looked at it earlier, before you, uh, scared him away. I’ll be fine, though.”

“What’s your name?”

“Um--Louise.”

“Louise. I’m Clara.” Cassandra never gave her real name while she was travelling. “Come with me, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

“Oh, really, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Come with me.”

“Okay…”

After they had gathered the fallen knives, Louise followed Cassandra back to the segment of the trail where Fidella was waiting, in silence. “Louise, this is Fidella. Fidella, Louise.”

“Hi, Fidella. She’s beautiful.”

Cass cracked a wide grin. “She’s a good horse. I was going to look a little further to set up camp, but actually, I think this clearing by the road will do, and we have an injury to attend to. We’ll go sit on the ground over there.” Cassandra pointed to the sort of clearing in the forest beside her, a bare patch of ground just beyond the first few trees. “Come on, Fidella.”

When the three of them had made their way to the patch of empty land, Cassandra instructed Louise to sit down and began to rummage through Fidella’s sidebag. She pulled out a clean shirt, some bandages, and one of her canteens. Silently, she made her way over to Louise and plopped down next to her. Using her dagger, Cassandra began to cut the fabric of the shirt into neat strips.

“Oh, please--don’t do that.”

“It’s fine. I can buy another.”

When Cassandra had finished cutting the strips, Cassandra took one in her hand, and wet it thoroughly using the canteen. “Give me your arm. I’m sorry if this stings.”

Lousie reached her arm out, and Cassandra took it, gingerly beginning to wipe at the now semi dried blood.

“So, what’s your deal?”

“Hm?” Cassandra glanced up at the woman whose wound she was tending. “What’s my deal?”

“Yeah. Most people wouldn’t have stopped to help me. Why risk your life?”

“Oh.” Cassandra paused and contemplated an answer, not wanting to give up too much of her life. She began to clean the actual wound, and Louise winced. “I’m sorry. Well, I guess all I can say is I couldn’t leave you there, to be attacked.”

“But you could have died, too.”

Cassandra shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve cheated death before, and I trust my combat skills.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Cassandra had finished cleaning the wound, and began to wrap Louise’s arm in the shirt scraps. “What’s your deal?”

“Me? What do you mean, exactly?”

“Well, you’re on a shady road late at night, alone, just like me. So, there’s obviously a reason.”

“Oh. I couldn’t stay home, and I really don’t want to say much more.”

“I get it, trust me. Me too, and that’s about as much as I’m comfortable saying.”

“Well,” Louise grinned, “we’re on the same page. That’s good to hear.”

Cassandra, finished with the shirts, began to wrap the bandage about Louise’s arm. “Yeah.”

“Hey. Thanks for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it.” Cassandra released the other woman’s arm. “I’m done.”

“So…”

“So?”

“Is this my cue?”

“Oh.” Cassandra paused. “Not necessarily. If you want to, by all means, leave. But you can stay if you please.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

“Just a nomad?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Cassandra glanced up at the other woman’s face, actually taking in her features for the first time. She was fair, slender-faced, and freckled, and her bright blonde hair fell about her shoulders in tight ringlets. Her eyes were a dark color, most likely brown, although the specific color was hard to make out with the absence of light.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Sorry.”

“Hey, I’m just kidding. Lighten up.”

“Right.” Cassandra stood up. “I’m going to try to find some firewood.”

After fifteen minutes of searching, Cass was able to find a few leaves, twigs and branches that were dry enough to facilitate a fire. She found her way back to the make-shift camp, searched through her satchel for her flint and steel, and began to build.

“Well, if you’ll be staying the night, it’s probably safer if we take turns looking out. I’ll take the first watch, you get some rest.”

“It’s not necessary, really. Let me take the watch.”

“No, sleep. Really.” Cassandra perfected the fire structure--the large branches leaned up against each other, and beneath them was a pile of flammable leaves and other tinder.

“I mean...if you insist.”

Cassandra struck her flint and steel together, grinding them until the spark caught. She watched as the fire slowly grew, starting with one leaf before spreading to the others, and then the sticks, and then the larger branches.

“I do. You need to rest, with that arm. We’ll find a village for you to heal in tomorrow. By the way, are you travelling on foot? I didn’t notice a horse with you.”

“I had a horse, but…”

“Oh. No need to say any more.” Cassandra paused. “We can both ride Fidella until I find you somewhere safe, or you can ride, and I’ll walk.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“What?”

“About me. I’m still perplexed. Most people wouldn’t have saved me, let alone gone to the lengths you have to care for me. Why?”

Cassandra stared at the fire, and grit her teeth. “Let’s just say, I’m serving my penance.”

"Okay." Louise paused, and laid down on the ground, using her bag as a pillow. "Goodnight, Clara."

"Goodnight, Louise."

[theonewiththefanfics]

Hawkins’ Charm (Part 7/?)

Synopsys: They had gotten out of Hawkins. After all the shit that had happened, all the heartache and pain, Billy and the Reader had gotten away from that hellhole, building their life in California as he had dreamed. But when Max’s graduation rolls around and they go to celebrate, it’s as if the Upside Down was just waiting for all of them to return. And it has a bone to pick.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader; platonic!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: blood, mentions of injuries and death, fighting, swearing, mentions of sexy times, but not smut

Word count: 3337

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE BILLY’S ACTIONS AND THE THINGS HE’S DONE! THIS IS BASICALLY AN AU, WHEN REALLY LOOKING AT IT! SPOILERS FOR S3! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

It was like the air had suddenly been sucked out from the world, leaving him a heaving, dizzy mess in the void.    His dad. His old man. The person that was supposed to love him unconditionally but had been abusing him since he was a little kid was the one the Mind Flayer was using as a host.        “I’m gonna kill him,” Billy seethed. “Did he touch you?” he doublechecked every inch of Y/N’s body. “I’m gonna fucking murder him.”        “Billy, he didn’t do anything,” she put a hand on his cheek, and he practically melted, taking in a shuddering breath and nodding. “I didn’t even see him. I’m alright.”        “Was he,” he gestured vaguely around, “you know, possessed when we went to his?”        Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know, but he was by the time that whole thing at Tina’s happened. But Billy… he knows… about Clara. I tried to keep them out of my head but,” her chin wobbled, and Billy had to keep his composure.    “He’s so strong,” Y/N whispered. “Like, not to say what happened to you wasn’t horrible and painful and bad, but he’s,” she shook her head. “He’s so fucking strong. I don’t know how we’re gonna stop him. If we can stop him.”        They thought the Mind Flayer might have evolved, they knew it could, but with the way El had struggled against the small piece inside of Y/N, she couldn’t even imagine what battling against the full force of that thing would be like. 

       “We gotta close the Gate,” Hopper said. “It’s our only option.”        A murmur of agreement spread through the people in the cabin, Billy’s attention still on Y/N as she flinched when she reached for the glass of water Robin had offered. She practically gulped the whole thing in a second. Only then did Billy realize how thirsty he was too, but he could wait.        “Is my mom,” Max’s lip quivered, making Y/N look at her, and Billy reached for his sister's hand squeezing it in comfort, something that just five or even three years ago he would’ve never voluntarily done. “Is my mom one of them?”        When Y/N shook her head no, Max almost sagged to the floor in relief. “I didn’t feel her. He has a lot of others under his control – Tina, Tommy, Vicky, pretty much everyone else that didn’t leave the party that night… they drugged the punch and knocked everyone out, and then Neil helped them bring the rest to Benny’s where… ya know… they got possessed and shit…”        Y/N groaned trying to stand up, but when her knees buckled, she opted for staying on the bed.        “How does your back feel?” Robin asked, making everyone remember that before being possessed by a Mind Flayer, she’d been dragged away by a monster with knives for fingers.        “Like a Demogorgon wanted to make a skinsuit out of me,” Y/N shrugged and hissed at the pain. Without it possessing her, she was back to herself, and it meant she was back to feeling things and not just ignoring the unpleasant itch in her back. Billy was instantly in action mode.        “Okay, we need to clean those. Don’t want you getting an infection.”        Joyce was immediately on her feet. There was an old bottle of vodka, she’d found in Hopper’s room from that day when she’d ditched their ‘date but not date’ to instead go to Mike’s science teacher, and she went to grab it.        “Vodka doesn’t have an expiration date,” she muttered to herself taking a clean cloth as well.        “Here,” Joyce gave both of those things to Billy, and Y/N sighed.        “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” he warned soaking the rag with the alcohol and reached for one of the leather restraint that had been wrapped around her wrists.       “Yeah, I’m kinda expecting it to,” she grumbled and bit down on the belt. With one final nod, Y/N readied herself, and he pressed the cloth against her wounds.        Searing hot pain erupted throughout her body, and for a second Y/N’s vision went completely white. She grabbed onto the sheets and fisted them between her fingers, holding back the scream. Honestly, she’d rather be possessed by the Mind Flayer than feel every single time the alcohol ate at her wounds.        And oh god, when Billy had to peel away the scabbed over parts… Y/N thought she’d pass out. Hoped she’d pass out. Childbirth had been easy compared to the torturously slow movements as each crusted bit was ripped from the gashes leaving them open to the air.        She spit the belt out to the floor and growled, “Hurry the fuck up!”        “Sorry, sweetheart,” Billy murmured seeing Y/N’s face scrunch up as he dragged the cloth across the third out of five slashes. “But I gotta be thorough.”        It dragged on for five more agonizing minutes before Billy and Joyce deemed Y/N’s skin would not rot and fall off her back. For the time being at least. She’d definitely need to see the doctor first thing in the morning.    “I think these might need stitching,” Billy trailed a careful palm along the two of the deepest gashes.        “Yeah, nope,” Y/N shook her head heaving and shuddering, and Joyce applied a compress to her back. It had some sort of a cold salve on it, and it instantly relieved her blazing skin. She’d been the only one smart enough to remember about El talking about Y/N’s wounds, so while everyone had gathered tons of tinfoil, Joyce had bought a first aid kit and some other things that she considered might be necessary.    “Thank you for cleaning them up, but I ain’t letting you anywhere near me with a needle and thread,” Y/N smirked.        “Wha- hey!” he exclaimed. Usually, he’d slap her arm playfully, but this time he opted out on it.        “Do I need to remind you when you tried, keyword tried, to sow up Clara’s dress?” she gave him a pointed gaze and shook her head, smiling as Joyce muttered a ‘men’ underneath her breath.        Steve who had joined their little group once the gross stuff was out of the way, crossed his arms and snorted. “What happened?”        “I ended up having to throw it out,” Y/N gestured at Billy. “Because cross stitch is so hard.”        “It wasn’t that bad,” Billy protested but accepted his defat and helped to wrap the layer of gauze around Y/N’s back. Immediately it got soaked and turned a scarlet color, but it was better than leaving the scabs on with millions of possible infections underneath them. And the red was a much pleasant color than the pitch black. “She’s just being dramatic.”        “Frist of all,” Y/N hissed and pointed a finger at him. “I’m allowed to be dramatic. At least right now. Second of all, you managed to sow the dress to your jeans, and then, when I told you to just cut the thread off and pull it out, you cut a hole into the dress.”        “It was a stylistic choice.”        “Yeah for what, her third arm?”            It seemed insane to be bickering about what were now minuscule things. A ruined dress. Billy’s inability to sow. Him being in absolute denial about it. Insane, but nice, given how the actual things they needed to worry about were the possible invasion of their world by an interdimensional alien, a Russian army opening up the Gateway between the two universes and her father-in-law being the main henchman.        “How do we explain this to Clara?” Billy nudged his chin towards Y/N's back, and her eyes widened.        “Fuck,” she swore under her breath. “I hadn’t thought about that…”    There was no way she could just brush it off, and their little Terminator had to know everything. It had been an interesting enough conversation when she’d asked about her dad’s scars, but now when her mom would arrive home with a destroyed back was not something, they thought they’d have to deal with.        “You might also wanna figure out what to say to mom,” Alex said as he stood to the side, arms matter-of-factly crossed over his chest.        “What? Why?”        Alex’s eyes widened. “Graduation’s in like a few hours, and you're gonna show up like that?”        That’s when the rest of the kids also remembered Friday was just three hours away, and graduation only fifteen.        “Oh, shit,” Max muttered sharing a look with Mike, Dustin, Will and Lucas. El hadn’t gone to a public school, having been taught by Hopper and then Joyce at home.        “Well, we can’t go,” Mike said. “This is bigger than some fucking graduation.”       “Hey, watch your mouth!” Hopper said pointing at the teen. He was still in the mindset of ‘keep the door open three inches’, no matter if four years had passed.        “I think going might be our best bet,” Y/N butted in. “Or at least, you have to go.”        “Not to be rude, ‘cause I know you went through some pretty dramatic shit,” Lucas said, “but Mind Flayer versus getting a piece of paper,” he made a gesture as if he was weighing the options with his hands. “The Mind Flayer wins.”        Y/N shook her head and stood up, leaning heavily against Billy. “He still needs to keep up the appearances. I mean when Billy was possessed, he went to his job at the pool, so I can guarantee he’ll be at the school. And that’s when we can strike.”        The thought of attacking the Mind Flayer and bringing the fight to him, instead of how it usually had been with it striking first, made everyone perk up and start talking, but Billy didn’t join in, even though he might have the most cause to.        Instead, he tugged on Y/N’s palm making her attention flit just to him and look at his furrowed brows. It seemed as if the formulation of the words on his tongue were the hardest ever, but in the end, he got them out.        “What did you mean by ‘the three of us…?’ When you said you wouldn’t let me taint the three… of you…”        “I don’t know…” she shook her head. “I have no clue where that came from.”        “Do you,” Billy swallowed harshly and wrung his hands together, “do you think you might be pregnant again?”        That thought had crossed her mind, but Y/N didn’t think it to be plausible. Every time they’d had sex they’d been very careful, as they weren’t planning on having another kid. Sure, Clara hadn’t been planned either and turned out to be the best gift ever, but they were doing really well at that moment, so another gremlin would be quite jarring.        “I don’t think so… I had my period right before leaving.”        “Yeah, but we did have a lot,” he emphasized the word and smirked, “of fun at the motel in the morning. And when we got to yours in the shower… and before going to Tin-“        “Okay, you don’t need to recount every time,” Y/N chuckled feeling heat crawl up her body. “I remember, I was there.”       “You better, otherwise, I’d need to remind you.”        She tilted her head to the side. “I wouldn’t complain about that. Like at all.” A beat passed before she spoke again. “If it was though…” Y/N bit down on her lip. “Would you want it? Another kid? Would you want one?”        Billy snorted cupping her cheeks and giving her a sweet kiss. “If you’d ask me to run through Hell barefoot, I’d fucking skip through it with a smile on my face.”        “So, would that be a yes?”        “You’re such a dork,” he shook his head, the affectionate grin never leaving.        “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”        He scoffed. “You better fucking be.”        “We’ll figure it out…” Y/N nodded her head as if affirming herself they would. “If we get out of this alive.”        “When,” he growled back. “When we get out of this alive. Don’t you dare talk that way.”        She rolled her eyes. “I’m just being realistic.”        “Well stop it then.” He grumbled like a toddler being told he couldn’t have any more candy. “Be optimistic.”        Y/N scoffed. “Yeah, because you’re not only Keg King, but the King of Optimism as well.”        He watched her bring Nancy’s given shirt over her head and helped the woman let it slip over her body.    Billy loved that body with every inch of his being. He loved each and every birthmark, scar and dip, and now it had been completely rearranged by some monster. There was nothing in the world that would make him think of Y/N as anything as beautiful, but a small part in his head screamed at how much he hated the rips that would scar over at some point. They had been his fault. His ugly marks on her gorgeous body.        “Where’s uh where’s your ring?” Y/N asked, clearing her throat and bringing him out of the pondering. This was so not the conversation she thought she’d ever have. It was like they’d had a silent agreement to never take the golden circlets off, so seeing his finger bare, with a pale line around it, made her stomach churn.        “When you were missing, I asked El to help find you. She needed something that had a connection to you…” he shrugged flexing his fist. “This was the only thing I could think of.”        “And why haven’t you put it back on?”        It seemed like the question completely shifted the mood, and Billy let out a sad chuckle. “ ’Cause I don’t think I should.”        Y/N’s eyes widened. “What?”        She could feel tears burn at the edges of her eyes, but Y/N was not going to let them fall. Instead, she cleared her throat and repeated the question in a much softer tone.        “That day when we got married, I promised to protect you. I might have not said it out loud, but I promised it to myself.” Unlike her, Billy allowed himself to fully feel the emotions, a drop rolling down his cheek.    “And I failed. How can I put it back on, how can I promise that to you, when I broke it in the first place? I know it wasn’t you saying all those things, that it was the Mind Flayer using my fears against me, but it had a point. I don’t deserve you. Or Clara. For years this whole life has felt like a dream, like a fluke that I’d gotten so lucky. And now I know it is, ‘cause there’s no way I could ever deserve you or your forgiveness.”        Y/N thought she’d be sad and hurt by his words, but instead, she was just pissed. “Forgiveness for what?”        “For this whole thing,” he gestured at her torn-up body. “Had it not been for me, you wouldn’t have been possessed by that fucker. Had it not been for me, we wouldn’t have gone to Tina’s. I wouldn’t have gotten drunk and pissy, and you wouldn’t have had to wander off into those fucking woods… this whole shit’s my fault…”        Her lips were pursed into a very thin line before, Y/N nodded. “Okay, so answer me this – did you know the Gate was open?”        “N-no,” Billy stuttered out not sure where the conversation was going.        “Did you know the Demogorgon and the Mind Flayer were back?”        Once again, he replied with a soft ‘no’.        “Did you have any clue any of this would happen?” her voice was getting louder with each word.        Billy hid his face in his palms but shook his head no.        “Then why are you punishing yourself?”        “Because who else am I supposed to punish?!” he exploded jumping up. “You?! I was the one who put you in danger, I am the one with the shit father who’s even shittier now! All of your biggest problems in life have been because of me, and now whenever we’ll go to the beach, whenever you’ll take a shower, I’ll have to see those fucking marks on your back that you wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for me!”        Y/N was practically shaking as she stood face her husband, despite the tendrils of pain rippling down her back.        “I did not sit by your hospital bed for two whole days while you were unconscious, I didn’t spend my last summer here with you in the ICU for you to say this bullshit to me,” she seethed and moved closer. “Now, you’ll listen to me Billy Hargrove, we’ve been through so much shit, it’s insane. I could write a novel about it and still, there wouldn’t be enough pages to tell the full story.”       Her gaze was piercing, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Y/N’s. No matter how much Billy wanted to, it was impossible as every word found its mark, yet he still listened to her, still nodded along and let the tears slip down his cheeks, his wife’s soft thumbs brushing them away.        “I did not go through childbirth, through doubting myself if I’m a good person, let alone a mother; I did not go through this shit, only for you to tell me that you don’t wanna wear that ring anymore, cause guess what? I’ve fucked up too. That day at the pool when we got into that huge argument and the whole Mind Flayer shit happened to you? I blame myself for that.”        Billy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But – but it’s not. You had nothing to do with it… it just happened, it was bad luck.”        “Exactly,” a painful smile of relief made her lips pull up hoping he'd get where she was going with it. “I know it wasn’t my fault, I can’t control the Mind Flayer, but I still blame myself. Maybe if I’d been more understanding, maybe if I’d tried to work it out, it wouldn’t have happened... you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”        His hands shook as he settled them on Y/N’s waist, pressing his forehead tightly to hers. He’d never even considered that she blamed herself for that summer’s events. He never even entertained that idea, ‘cause it was simply untrue, so he didn’t spend time on it.        “You blame yourself for this, and I blame myself for what happened to you... even though it was neither of our faults... So,” Y/N let out a shaky breath, “put that fucking ring back on your finger, or I swear, I’ll serve you some divorce papers.”        Billy chuckled, pulling back from the embrace to fish out the ring from his pocket, but not before pulling Y/N in for a passionate kiss. Fuck, did it feel good to kiss her again. “Yes, mam.”        Beautifully, as if it was made to sit at the base of his left ring finger, the piece of jewellery slid on and stayed there. As it would forever.        “I love you,” he whispered pecking her lips.        “I love you too, dumbass.”        “Whatever you say Mrs Dumbass,” he bit on his bottom lip and glanced down at her. “You’re an amazing person, by the way. And an even better mother.”        Y/N mouthed a ‘thank you’ against his lips before caressing them again.        “You two okay there?” Joyce asked peaking inside the bedroom as they stepped back from one another.        Only then did they realize when the argument had started everyone else had left the room to give them privacy to work things out.        Billy nodded, smiling over at Y/N. “Yeah, we’re alright. But I think we’ll be even better when we decide what to do with the whole Upside-Down thing.”        “I think I have an idea,” Y/N sighed and, leaning heavily on Billy’s shoulder they entered the living room where everyone else was.        Max raised a concerned eyebrow, thumb between her teeth, and when their eyes met, she gave the redhead a small but assuring smile, making her heart lift from her feet back to her chest, knowing that everything was okay between the two.        Hopper opened his arms and then put them on his hips. “We’re all ears.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take): 

Hawkins’ Charm tag list: @genius2050 @aiifandomsunite @ashleymarieriffle @littlefool-smalljester @infinitelycharmed23 @llcalumllhoodll @benevolentgemini @rxmanovbby @euphoniumpets @krazykatykat456 @believerofall @ccidk @babechief @meganmj @blackhood5sos @fml9603 @noodlenerd101 @universefinds @kuroidesuchloe @im-a-stranger-thing @grxxn-gardxns @springholland @beforethebraces @robinisourlesbianmom @queeneliza108 @neenaw-neenaw @lexisntthatweird @choicesismylife @mckenzie2020 @kcd15 @snuggleducky @reckless-sofia @didyouseetheflair @silver-winter-wolf @jay-ta-blog @hopeless-lovex0 @anyasthoughts @robinismyqueen @yeah-butyourenot-dacremontgomery @mcrganstarks @psychoticobsession @cutehipstergirl25 @sbfandom @mickmoon @jackyfrost01 @txhmine @dark-princess99 @morgangrice18 @changingmylifestyle367 @sweetdayme4427 @alowexpectation @sexyvixen7 @golddvstwoman @evelynfreakinaddams @sunfucked @sataninsatin @queenbbarnes @venomavocado @rangotangomango @psychosupernatural @sereiins @frickin-bats @bandsruinedmylife @thee-brunette-princess @queenskyster @aspiring-fangirls-world @gracethegeek9902 @katiexdacre @dreamwavej @escaping-reality21 @void-fire-rose @slvtherinseeker @paranoiadestroyah @arromite @jojo-buttercup @danarysstormborn @graveyard--baby--666

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28

A/N: heya! Sorry for the delay on this part, but I had such a full weekend that I just didn’t have the time to write or post, but I hope you enjoy this part. The next one might be the last or close to that, but I have a few other Billy imagines in mind, so if you wanna be tagged in any of the future fics drop a message (whether Hawkins’ Charm tag list, Forever tag list (means you’ll be tagged in EVERYTHING or just Billy’s :) )

ALSO! HOLY SHIT WE HIT 6K!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! THANK YOU!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU THAT LIKE WHAT I CREATE AND IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME THAT YOU’RE STICKING AROUND :****

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. what did ya think? :)

[hopevalley]

What are your favorite and least stories from each Season and why?

Oh man, this is a really thought-provoking question! I’ll try to come up with good answers (even though sometimes the seasons blur together a little bit):

I’ll give some basic thoughts on each season and what worked/didn’t work for me.

Season 1

While I appreciate that they made the effort to have Elizabeth stick out (vs. blending in with all the Poors), she was downright unbearable at times in the early seasons. Her wanting to help and coming up with ideas is pretty decent in terms of story structure and even characterization/character motivation, but holy cow was it intrusive and nosy/patronizing of her sometimes! I think the point might have been to give Elizabeth flaws, which is great, but people just seemed to accept it, and her, too quickly, at least for my liking. A shame because I felt like her struggling to fit in would 1) be good for her character/force her to understand that to be accepted here she has to concede to giving up her former lifestyle, and 2) be a great, GREAT way for her and Abigail to bond and become friends, since this is something Abigail also struggled with!

So basically, the ‘story’ of Elizabeth coming to fit in in Coal Valley? Vaguely rubbish.

So much DID work, though, and could have been expanded upon for even better storytelling!!! This is especially true of the widows/related stories.

Loss of faith/faltering faith

Loss of personal identity

Moving on/past grief

Processing guilt 

Protecting the memory of a deceased loved one

We also had some great smaller personal stories.

Genius child has to work in the mine because there’s no one else ot take care of his family

Young man can’t read and has to work in the mine (and even after he does start learning how to read, probably doesn’t get to leave). Elizabeth still taking the time to try and help him still means something!

Season 2

I will never forgive the series for its convoluted attempt at a love triangle, here. Charles wasn’t unlikable, but he was OBVIOUSLY interested in Elizabeth romantically, and I don’t feel she’d be so stupid as to be blind to that, old chum or not.

Basically, it was one of the worst plots to ever exist on the show, because it just wasn’t believable in any capacity and felt like drama that existed to be a roadblock more than anything.

Also, not to whine, but Bill’s whole ‘counterfeit money’ plotline wasn’t very well-written.

The plot itself makes sense, but the way it bounced around seems to have just confused enough people that no one even remembers this was a thing.

That said, I think it was a good plot for the character... It was just not executed as well as it needed to have been to make a difference/really shine.

There are a lot of small things from S2 that were pretty nice, though.

Abigail’s fight to help Clara was meaningful, but I’m not sure how I feel about the addition of Clara from a writing standpoint. I feel like Abigail should have felt something was off about Peter’s trips from the start... The issue is that Hamilton is VERY far away and it’s VERY doubtful Peter would have ever gone there. Union City makes more sense if we’re talking about picking up shipments.

Tom and Julie were entertaining if nothing else.

I couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened in Hope Valley in S2, but I’m sure there were Events.

Season 3

Honestly I don’t think S3 had anything horrible in it. It just wasn’t very inspiring at times? It was like they had all these really good ideas but didn’t want to fully commit to any of them.

Henry Gowen was a star.

Frank was excellent in this season.

The biggest issue I have with this plot is simply that they didn’t take it all the way. Either he’s a dangerous man to allow to stay in town or he’s not. Saying he is doesn’t make it so. A rock through a window? Okay, sure...that’s threatening I guess. But it didn’t feel like enough to turn the whole town.

And again, having him barely doing anything even though he’d definitely be worried for Abigail and Cody’s safety is just inane.

Still, overall the whole thing was pretty good/well-done. Especially that unexpected turn at the end where Henry helped turn the tide. (I still wish that had gone somewhere and wonder even now if they had an idea they wanted to use and didn’t get the chance to.)

Abigail adopting children was nice. I wish Becky hadn’t been a part of it at all though. Like the IDEA is nice, but I can’t imagine she’d believe in it all as fast/readily as she does? This plotline just seemed great for Cody and meaningless to Becky, IMO.

But hey, the thing with Cody is meaningful enough. My issue is just that he’s like, 8 or 9 and remembers his parents very clearly, so I don’t think he’d be that willing to replace them. I guess it could just be his personality, but it might make more sense for him to be like 5-6 years old instead (less attached with fuzzier memories by this point if they’ve been on the run awhile).

Despite my qualms I think this was a pretty good story for Abigail. Just wish they hadn’t dropped her role as a mom as quickly as it felt they did.

Hattie was a good character and I enjoyed her introduction story. It was sad, but it felt good/satisfying.

Bill buying Henry’s share in the café was a great little thing. Maybe too convenient and itching for a story of its own (instead of it just happening), but overall a good idea.

Jack’s mom coming to town was entertaining. She had some really good lines. Lard in coffee. I mean...this was gold.

Season 4

The peddler was a cute addition but I didn’t much care for the overt magical element.

If it felt a little more real/grounded/down to earth I think I might have been more intrigued. 

Frank getting his original Bible back was a GREAT story but when they tried tying it into his vaguely stalker-like behavior? It just ruined the entire thing.

For what it’s worth, Frank’s character goes downhill pretty sharply in this season.

There were a lot of cute kid storylines in this one. But they weren’t all...great...

Robert telling the lie about the bear? Nice.

The kid with the knee brace? Ugh.

The storyline itself wasn’t bad!

But after Becky miraculously recovered the previous season it just felt like a slap in the face. I live with chronic pain and it’s just one of those things where I’d like a little representation somewhere.

I still think Becky should have stayed wheelchairbound.

I can’t get over how insulting it was that she just MIND OVER MATTER FIXED HERSELF. The writer who put that in there should be slapped, and the writer who wrote the saME GODFORSAKEN STORY AGAIN with this child should also be slapped.

I really feel that if they were gonna let Becky recover like that, this kid should be living with a permanent disability and this episode could deal with kids helping him play/doing activities he could participate and enjoy.

Maybe it’s too on-the-nose but the hardest part about a chronic illness/disability of any kind is the part where you lose things you loved to do that you considered a part of your identity. That’s an awfully deep storyline for WCtH, but they should have gone for it here.

Phillip was in between.

Phillip and his father were great, but Elizabeth was just SO incredibly awful. This is where she and Abigail started always being right about everything and I felt her involvement was unbearable.

They should have just let Faith take over Elizabeth’s role in that plot and it would have been way better. They could have had the eyesight issue earlier and done something great with it.

Frank and Abigail’s relationship at the beginning of this season was pretty interesting. Even though the whole “danger” thing was a little goofy, it was nice to see them communicating and adjusting. 

It felt like a natural issue people would actually have. And it wasn’t smoothly worked out, which is fine.

Also, Rosemary’s interference was hilarious.

RIP to the following:

Frank’s character after his earlier scene, because he doesn’t get anything else that’s actually in character.

Good writing because Carson is now the town hero he’s gonna save Cody from appendicitis because other doctors are just completely stupid!

Also Carson is a surgeon so TAKE THAT, regular doctors!

Doug. You were a real bro, my guy.

I DID like Doug’s role in the story, though. His death made some sense, but it was ill-timed. (How convenient that we only even hear of him moments before his death lol.)

AJ Foster is a highlight of S4 for me. I love her, and for the most part I love her introduction.

She’s such a pain in the neck, but she also talks a lot of sense.

The writing isn’t great for her, or for Bill in these scenes, but at least there was An Attempt™.

I appreciate that they introduced the idea of her much earlier in the season and built up to her actual appearance, which I couldn’t have guessed would be relevant early on.

Considering how the officers at my company hate our IRS auditor, I find the fact that AJ has enemies beyond believable.

Railroad shenanigans were pretty entertaining in this season, too.

Season 5

The last episode at least tried to be kind to the characters, so I appreciate it.

Elizabeth’s conversation with her father before her wedding was a highlight of the entire season.

AJ’s return plot was abysmal.

I’d be terribly embarrassed to have been the one to write this, especially considering how completely whack it feels next to the other plots.

I’ve ranted about this so many times I should have run out of steam but BOY is it cringey. This is the height of Bill-is-a-grumpy-old-man as a Thing in this series and this is probably when it is its worst.

The rattlesnake plotline was contrived as heck, but the only thing to make it worse was how weird everyone acted.

Rhonda was a good character and the plotline, if it wasn’t so rushed, would have actually been really great. I still liked it overall, though.

Frank’s send-off was dumb, but at least he got one on-screen.

I still can’t believe they killed their main romantic male lead off-screen.

What the heck...

Abigail was really, really annoying in this season, and so was Elizabeth. Unbearable.

Also, I still hate the pregnancy oooops~~ ♥♥ plot at the end of the grieving episode. Really? COME ON. I know they wanted to give the fans hope but it was jarring.

Season 6

I still HATE the nativity == baby Jack’s birth parallels. 

Why did they feel the need to do that. Why couldn’t we have just gotten pregnant Elizabeth shenanigans?

They put Jack’s DEATH ON THE TOMBSTONE like how is she popping out a baby less than two months later when she didn’t even know she wa---?F?DJSAFLJDSAFHLDSAL?

Abigail?

DELETED.

Thank goodness.

Bill?

Assassinated. Or at least, his character was.

This is bad. :(

On the plus side he gets promoted to the position of JUDGE...and barely does anything worthwhile with it...yet.

GODFATHER BILL. The best thing in this season.

Fiona?

A goddess. I love her.

Lucas?

Slimy.

But handsome.

The 4th Property Brother. He even tries his hand at renovating.

Nathan?

Honest and good.

Pretty cute.

Works together with Bill once in one of Bill’s only good scenes.

The oil plotline is actually pretty good/fun. Jesse and Clara get more scenes finally. 

Elizabeth isn’t the focus of everything.

Lee and Rosemary got like, no mention in any of these posts but mostly because it felt like they were never really doing anything before, but I did feel like they were given a little more meaningful lines/places in this season.

--

How’s this for an attempt? :P I’m probably missing A LOT but I can’t recall everything too easily!

[javathewildone]

Ty Chronicles - A Walk to Remember (Pt. 13)

Summary: Meghan Donovan is a girl no one pays attention to until the day Ty Borden discovers something about her that so closely relates to his own life he finds himself becoming attached to her. But the closer he gets, the worse things become. And no one makes it through unscathed. The first installment of the Ty Chronicles saga. Set pre-Heartland/pre-juvie/pre-group home. Told in first-person through Ty’s point of view. Rating: M for adult themes Author’s Notes: Hey, look! It was exactly one year since I posted a chater for this one. *facepalm* I’ve changed direction with it so many times it amazes me I still remember wtf I was doing. Trigger Warning: adult content including prostitution Parts: P | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8  | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

"You're really not going to tell me how you got Maisie to trust you enough to open up about Meghan?" I asked, discarding a useless three of clubs down on the bench between us. It had been over an hour since we ran into the mysterious Maisie. After a while of me sitting and fidgeting and looking suspiciously like I was jonesing, Seth dug out a deck of cards from his grocery bag and we were now three games into a Gin tournament.

Seth took a moment to move his cards around. "Your tender virginal ears couldn't bear the sensual details." He discarded a six of hearts.

My brow rose. "You used sex in exchange for information?" I almost couldn't believe it.

"See? The very idea makes your head spin, my prudish little friend."

I scowled. "I'm not a prude, Seth. Virgin, maybe, but I've been around the block a time or two. What surprises me is that you're not."

Seth leaned back, aghast. "Beg your pardon, fella; I happen to be very popular with the ladies. Cougars, particularly, like Miss Maisie back there. They just devour my boyish charm." He smiled broadly as if to flaunt said charms.

I snorted. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume the other night wasn't your first time hanging around here."

"And you would be correct," Seth said, lowering his gaze back to his hand. "You gonna make a move, or what?"

I picked up his card, arranging it in my hand. "Well…?"

"Well, what?"

"You and Maisie. What's going on there?"

Seth shrugged, picking up my discarded two of spades. "I'm a refreshing break from the skeevy old men who leave the money on the nightstand on their way out the door."

Never, in a million years, would I ever think to discover this startling revelation about one of my good friends. Then again, we didn't often talk about such things. Meaning relationships. Which, I suppose this would fall into that category. My fraternization with Meghan seemed to be the catalyst to jar that particular topic of interest. Their desire to know the dirty details of our interactions only made their own love interests fair game. Already startling truths were being revealed.

"So, you've actually… with her?"

"Done the dirty? Sure." Seth admitted it so casually, like it was no big deal for a 15-year-old kid to have sex with a lady of the night. Like it wasn't illegal, forget about immoral. But, when put it into the perspective of where we were and why we were there, I really shouldn't be as stunned as I was.

Still, I fell into contemplative silence, mulling over this idea of my friend – who was younger than me – having done more with a grown woman than some guys older than us have done. Than I've done. And I thought I was hot shit for hitting the sexual milestones I had. But my contemplation over Seth's sexual escapades took a dark turn when I considered Meghan being the one subject to those things with the skeevy old men Maisie dealt with. The thought of them touching her in places I never dared sent an explosion of rage through my veins. I couldn't bear being inside my own head anymore with this knowledge of Meghan working this very street. With what little I knew of the situation, I was able to conjure up every filthy scenario of her being groped, abused, assaulted, molested, and even raped. It scared me to death while at the same time fueling my protective instinct that used to be solely reserved for my mother. That uninhibited need to prevent the bad things from happening or to go head to head with them when just stealing her away wasn't an option. I felt that familiar tension building in my shoulders now.

"Ty. Hey, man." Seth nudged my hand. "Your go."

"I'm done playing." I said, my tone implying I didn't just mean our card game.

"Look. I know it's not right, but we're two consenting people and I don't appreciate you judging me for it." Seth said, his voice clipped as he gathered up the cards.

I realized then that he thought my abrupt change in demeanor was because I didn't approve of his lifestyle. "I'm not. It's none of my business. I appreciate you looking into Meghan for me, but now that I know… I just can't stop thinking up all of these terrible things happening to her. She's not like you, or Maisie. I can guarantee her consent is not given freely."

Seth visibly relaxed, his defensive expression softening. "I just hope we can do something to actually help her. "

"Me too." I ran a hand anxiously through my hair. I wasn't sure how much longer I could wait before succumbing to my own imagination and losing it completely.

"Hey, watch this." Shuffling through the cards, Seth selected three then set the rest aside. Settling himself on the edge of the sidewalk he laid the cards out before him. Lifting each in turn he showed them to me. Queen of hearts, five of diamonds, and ten of spades. "Follow the lady." With the dexterity of a casino dealer he shuffled the cards around and around until satisfied then gestured for me to choose.

Huffing a sigh, I humored him and pointed to the center. His mouth quirked as he lifted the card to reveal the ten of spades. "I made two hundred bucks one afternoon playing this game downtown. You'd be amazed how flustered people get when they think they are being clever. They just kept throwing money at me to best themselves." He revealed the Queen then set her back down to shuffle again.

I didn't bother to wager any actual currency, knowing full well I was not in any state of mind to follow a fake lady when my thoughts were reaching toward a real one. My attention wandered to every vehicle and person that came our way. It didn't take Seth long to get bored of my half-hearted guesses.

"You gotta stop looking so suspicious," he commented, picking up the rest of the cards and giving them a hard shuffle.

"Aren't we suspicious enough loitering on this bench at this time of night?" I was waiting for the cops to pull up and ask just that. What answer could we even give them?

Seth shrugged. "No one really asks questions this part of town. But you looking around like that will for sure draw some unwanted attention."

"I can't help it." I leaned back to stare down at my shoes.

"There you go; that's better. Down on our luck and despondent is what we're going for."

I shot my friend a glance in the form of an eye roll. The click of heels drew our attention then as Maisie sauntered up with another young woman – not Meghan, to my dismay. She brushed Seth aside to sit between us, gesturing to her companion. "This is Clara. She's another novitiate." I hoped she meant to use that particular term ironically.

Clara smiled softly at me, not sparing Seth a glance. I smiled back to be polite, but my attention wandered to Maisie. "Have you seen Meghan?"

"You're Ty." It was Clara that spoke, commandeering my focus. I assumed she learned that from Seth, or from Maisie who learned it from Seth.

"Yeah." I curbed the rest of that sentence. They all knew why I was there; it seemed like a waste of breathe to ask again about Meghan. If I took away anything from that evening it was to be as discreet and cryptic as possible. Anyhow, my impatient expression was sure to speak for me well enough.

Clara's smile only widened at the affirmation. "Come with me." She stood, grabbing my hand as she did to pull me up with her.

I threw a confused glance over my shoulder to Seth, allowing myself to be pulled to my feet but no further. My friend only nodded in encouragement and tossed me his deck of cards that I caught against my side. "Follow the lady."

Unsure what to make of his double entendre, I figured I trusted Seth this far, I might as well go all the way. Pocketing the cards, I let Clara pull me down the street.

"Put your arm around me," she insisted when we paused at the corner to cross.

"What?" Startled, I tried to pull my hand from her grasp but she tightened her grip.

She finagled my arm to drape across her shoulders, tugging me closer into her side. She wrapped her arm around my waist as we crossed the street, ducking her head against my chest as she laughed. "Look like you mean to be here. We're going to meet your lady friend, but we can't look conspicuous. Pretend we're headed some place for a good time." Despite the giggle in her voice, her words were firm. Understanding, I let my rigid posture melt, leaning into her a bit and even fabricating a stumble to feign intoxication. This made Clara laugh for real. "That'll do, Pig."

I let her guide me, trying to pry what bit of information I could through slurred murmurs into her ear. But she was hesitant to divulge the plan in open space where anyone could be lurking. The most I got was that we were going to a motel. The sight of it made my stomach clench. I'd been in motels like this one before where nefarious activities were being conducted right beneath the nose of the greasy-palmed night managers.

I watched, eyes wide, as Clara dug into her cleavage to extract a key and unlock one of the rooms. She didn't explain. I didn't ask.

Immediately, I scanned the room hoping the door would open to Meghan sitting on the bed waiting for me but the room was empty. Clara tugged me in, roughly shoving me down on the bed with a giggle and nudged the door closed with her foot. Utterly stunned, I caught her at arm's length before she could dive on top of me. If this was Seth's way of trying to make me get over Meghan, I was going to be sincerely pissed off. But Clara was pulling out of my grasp to approach a door within the room I initially assumed was the closet. She knocked twice with her ear pressed to it before there was a click and it opened a crack. I jumped up, craning to see who she was speaking to in hushed tones when the door opened wider and she stepped through. My heart jumped into my throat when Meghan came from the other side, her back to me as she eased the door quietly shut and locked it.

I stood frozen, staring at her back. I refused to allow my eyes to trail away from the bare skin of her shoulders. She was wearing a halter top and a skirt so short I was frantically trying to erase the slight curves of her ass cheeks peeking through the bottom of my vision. That same male part of me I was loath to admit reacted to such atrocities came to life as it had before. I swallowed hard, wishing for once I wasn't such a hormonal teenager and willing it away before Meghan could turn around.

Too late.

I stood straighter, clasping my hands in front of me to try and hide my shame as not to make her feel any worse about herself than she surely did. My eyes widened at the sight of her. I'd never seen her in make up before, except for concealer. But even that couldn't cover the black and blue painting the side of her jaw.

"What do you want?" Her voice shook and just like that I had nothing left to hide as I let my hands fall to my sides.

"You look…" I wasn't sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like an asshole. She didn't look like the Meghan I remember. Not just the skimpy attire but her hair so tightly curled and half knotted onto her head while the rest brushed her bare shoulders. Gold hoops hung from her ears, but it was the purple smoky eye shadow that drew my attention to her light eyes. I had to choke down the word "hot" pretty hard when Meghan's expression steeled.

"Like a floozy," she finished.

I blinked. "Um. I was going to say older."

"Same difference." She crossed her arms, waiting for me to answer her initial question.

I moved closer, pausing when she stiffened. My heart sank. Were we back to that now? "I was worried about you. I came to make sure you were okay."

Meghan's jaw popped. "Does it look like I'm okay?" She snapped, making me wince. Of course she wasn't okay. I knew even before seeing her she wasn't going to be okay. Nothing about this was okay.

"I needed to see you," I continued, desperate to find some bit of the relationship we tried so hard to hold together. "I was scared when I hadn't heard from you for so long and I knew better than to try to make direct contact after what happened last time."

"Okay. You've seen me. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a client." She turned to go and in a burst of panic I lunged for her arm to prevent her from doing so. Unfortunately, I hadn't thought about what I was doing until it was too late and Meghan was wrenching herself from my grasp, reeling away from me in utter fear.

I let her go, throwing my hands in the air. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Just, please, don't leave."

Folding her hands around her arms, Meghan closed in around herself, breathing heavily and not meeting my eye. "Please. I-If you're afraid of losing money I'll pay for your time."

Once again I realized my error too late as Meghan flashed me a scathing look. "Fuck you, Ty."

I didn't think my heart could sink lower, but was still insulted she would even consider I thought that way. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

She breathed out a sigh. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just if I don't leave this motel with payment this time Daddy will turn my whole face purple."

"Daddy?" I asked, assuming she meant her stepfather but still finding the new title for him rather disturbing.

Meghan's face reddened as she dropped her gaze and shifted uncomfortably. "That's what he demanded I call him when I'm... working."

I tried not to let my nausea show too plainly as I reached for my wallet, pulling it out along with the deck of cards. Digging through the folds I took out all the cash I had, counting it quickly. "I've got thirty-six dollars." I glanced up cautiously to meet her dismayed expression.

"That won't be enough." She shook her head, glancing toward the door where clearly a bigger pay day awaited her. Or rather Daddy.

Suddenly, Seth's parting "follow the lady" popped back into my head as I fingered the deck of cards. Flipping open the top I pulled them out to find two hundred dollar bills next to the Queen of hearts.

I held up the cash, silently thanking Seth for his master planning. "How about two hundred and thirty-six dollars?"

Slowly, a small, dare I say relieved, smile crept across Meghan's blood red lips.

[virgilsinferno]

SPILLR  » CHAPTER TWO

important :: this is a horror fic and may contain triggering content

tw :: mentions of a toxic relationship, death mention, nightmares

word count :: 3761

notes :: i may or may not have accidentally deleted this the first time when i tried to open photoshop sdfhdf

intro || 1

Saturday morning. 2:10 am, to be precise. Virgil couldn’t sleep, so he sat on the windowsill and sketched out the view he could see from the window. He did that for a while until he got a craving for some Doritos. Logan’s parents never buy any chips, which meant there were no Doritos lying around in the house. Roman might keep a stash in his room, but they don’t talk as much so that would just be plain awkward. The only way he could get himself a bag of Doritos or two is by going to a convenience store. Alas, the nearest one was a 15 minute walk.

Not to worry, it’s for a good cause anyways—if one could call satiating the need for junk food a good cause. He put on his purple hoodie, moving quietly and carefully as to not wake up Logan. They’re friends. They can sleep in the same room and share a bed if they wanted to.

Endurance was one of his strengths, so he ran to 7-11 to get to the Doritos faster. Upon entering the store, he was greeted by the sound of door chimes. He had already memorized where the aisle with the chips were. Virgil’s movements could be compared to a robot programmed to take a particular path. On the way to the cashier, Virgil also grabbed two cans of Pepsi. One for him, and one for Logan. They had no coke in stock, which was highly disappointing. He paid for the items and opened one bag of chips on the way out.

As he ate his chips, he made sure to chew much more slowly than he’s used to, in case he needs his sense of hearing to get away from danger. That’s the downside of eating anything crunchy when you’re walking outside… alone… in the dark… ‘cause the street lights aren’t working.

While on the subject of needing the sense of hearing, there was the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching his direction. It could mean a lot of things, but the first thing that popped up in his mind was that someone started jogging way too early. Best case scenario: they’re just a jogger. Worst case scenario: they’re a jogger and they know him personally and they’re going to start a conversation with him. He puts his hood up, in hopes that whoever that was, they’d leave him be and keep on jogging.

“Virgil! Virgil, hey!” They called out. He started walking faster. They still managed to catch up.

“Oh thank the heavens,” they said, walking beside him and matching his pace. “For a second, you had me thinking you were someone else.”

“That’s what I was trying to do.” Virgil retorted. He focuses on walking forward. He does not look at who’s next to him.

“Geez kiddo, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“No.” Virgil says through a mouthful of Doritos. A sign that he’s lowering his guard. They walk in silence for a short period of time.

“By the way, I’m Patton! We have a few classes together.”

Virgil looks at him. He’s definitely seen him around at school. Didn’t he wear glasses? Maybe he’s got contacts on. The guy was just as sweet as he looked. Although he’s heard a few rumors about him… not being as nice as he looked, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The guy looked as harmless as a pink butterfly stuck on a marshmallow. He could be wrong, but what’s a better teacher than your past mistakes? If he were to die that night, he hoped that Logan would still get his Pepsi.

“I know.” said Virgil.

“So… where are you headed to?” Patton asks, trying to start a conversation between them going.

“Home.” Virgil responds. It’s not quite true, but not entirely false. A half-truth, if you will. The Castillo residence became his second home, just as the the Armati residence became Logan’s second home. To put it shortly, they hung out together a lot in each other’s homes.

“Oh okay, why are you up so early then?”

“None of your business.”

“Sorry.”

A part of him thinks that he was a bit too harsh, but another part of him wants to keep his guard up. He stayed quiet. Patton no longer asked any questions. Once again, they walked together in awkward and uncomfortable silence. That was, until, it was broken by Patton’s phone going off.

“You don’t keep your phone on silent?” Virgil scoffed.

Patton apologized once more in response, then did it again as he gestured to his phone, indicating that he’s going to answer the call. Virgil nodded and began to eat slowly.

“Dallon, please stop calling me, I’m going to delete your number. No, I’m not at home right now. Why should I tell you? I’m gonna hang up, and if you keep spreading rumors about me, so what? I know the truth. Goodbye, Dallon.”

In the short amount of time that Virgil has gotten to know Patton, he thinks Patton is the strongest person he’s ever met. Yet again, he doesn’t socialize too often.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes filled with genuine concern. He’s not sure if physical contact would help, so he decides on not placing a hand on Patton’s shoulder and instead tilts the open bag of Doritos towards him, allowing him to grab a handful of chips. Patton gladly takes some.

“Yeah, just getting rid of toxic people.” Patton says with a weak chuckle. He starts to feel uncomfortable and changes the topic entirely. “Have you heard that Clara went missing?”

“Who?” Remembering names obviously isn’t Virgil’s strongest point.

“The girl who sits at the front in Math class? Really light blonde hair? I think she bleached it.”

Wait… that girl? Virgil’s pretty sure that Patton just described the girl he saw in his dream when he took a nap. Well, Logan says he took a nap on his bed due to physical exhaustion. What did he even do yesterday?

“Uh yeah. Yeah, I’ve seen her around.” Virgil says, looking away. Patton gets a text notification. Virgil continues to walk, unaware that Patton has stopped walking.

When he turns to his left to ask about something, that’s when he realizes that Patton wasn’t walking beside him. He looks behind him and calls out Patton’s name, feeling a bit scared that Patton left him because he probably didn’t like talking to him. Apparently, he was just reading a text message on his phone with the brightness turned all the way up.

Why is his phone emitting such a strong white light? It can’t be the flashlight, since it’s coming from the screen itself, so perhaps the brightness level is at its maximum? Virgil walks towards Patton, thinking that he’s simply reading a text message. But as he gets closer, he starts getting uncomfortable.

Anyone would find this level of brightness in such a dark area a nuisance and lower it. Patton did not flinch nor squint. He just stared at his phone with his mouth slightly agape. A few more steps closer and Virgil sees that Patton’s eyes were glowing white. As bright as his phone screen. He panics and drops the paper bag containing the open bag of Doritos, the unopened bag of Doritos, and the two Pepsi cans. Thankfully, the paper bag stood upright and none of the contents spilled out. He immediately slaps the phone off of Patton’s hands, causing it to fall on the ground. He sighs in relief when he saw Patton’s eyes become normal again. That was the freakiest shit he’s ever experienced his entire gosh darn 17 years of living. For a moment he stood as still as a statue due to the shock of what just happened, but quickly recovered and brushed it off as his eyes playing tricks on him.

He picks up the phone and checks if there are any cracks from the fall. There were none. For a second it glitches and a single eye is on the middle of the screen. It disappears just as fast as it had appeared. Virgil blamed this one on the fall. He hands Patton his phone back then takes the paper bag that was on the ground.

“By the way, I was gonna ask you if you knew when Clara went missing.”

Patton looks at him with the most baffled expression on his face. “Who?”

“Blondie from Math class? Weren’t we just talking about her a few minutes ago?” Virgil supplies, slightly confused as to how the hell Patton forgot what they were talking about so quickly.

“There’s no one named Clara in Math class. Trust me, I know everyone at school.”

That was weird. Maybe he accidentally edited a memory? Yeah, he’ll go with that.

It wasn’t long before Virgil and Patton were standing right in front of the Castillo residence. He didn’t know if Logan would mind him bringing someone along, nor did he know if Patton would even want to hang out with the two of them. From what he had observed throughout their conversation, it seemed that Patton’s a genuinely good guy.

“Hey, do you wanna come over at my best friend’s place?”

“Oh! Yes please, I don’t think going home right now would be a good idea…”

“Alrighty then.”

Virgil knocked on the door and was greeted by Roman, Logan’s annoying younger brother. Seriously, how does Logan deal with him? He’s trying to be less rude to him, since Roman is obviously trying to be nicer to him. Back then, they only spoke to each other when they were throwing an insult at one another. They slightly talk more than before, but mostly to discuss their opinions on Disney films, musicals, and music they’re currently into.

“Ah, it’s you again, Gloom Boy!” Roman exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. He started listening to Waterparks, and thought that Virgil would be proud of him for that reference. Logan would be glad that they’re getting along.

“Huh. One reference to Waterparks doesn’t make us instantly best friends.” Virgil said in a teasing manner. So maybe they could be friends after all.

“I think it can!” Roman huffed.

“Whatever you say, Awsten Knight-in-shining-armor.” Virgil said with a playful smile.

“You just gave me a nickname! We truly are friends now!” Roman was so overjoyed, that he hadn’t noticed Patton standing next to Virgil. “And who’s this puffball over here?”

“Hi, I’m Patton!”

“Roman Castillo, at your service.” He bowed like the dramatic little theatre geek he is. Patton giggled, and Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay, now get in the house because I just tried baking and I need someone to try the cookies for me. I already woke Logan up to ask him, but he said he didn’t want to get poisoned.”

“Oooh! I love cookies!”

Then the perfect idea came to Virgil’s mind. “You two go do that, I’ll be in Logan’s room.”

Now that Patton went to eat cookies with Roman in the kitchen, he could discuss what happened earlier with Logan. That is, if he was still awake. If not, he’d just wake him up.

He went up the stairs two steps at a time, having a firm grip on the paper bag instead of the railings. Logan never locked his door, so he slammed it open in dramatic fashion. His best friend was used to this and paid him no mind, focusing on reading the newspaper before him. Virgil called out his name and tossed one of the two Pepsi cans at him. Logan caught it due to his fast reflexes. It wasn’t as cold as when Virgil bought it, but that was fine.

“I have an issue. I think my eyesight is getting worse.” said Virgil, sitting down on the bed next to Logan.

“Then you need to get your eyes checked.” Logan deadpanned.

“Random question, have you heard about any missing people?” Virgil asked, fiddling with his hoodie strings.

“In fact, I have. The newspaper from yesterday says that 7 people have gone missing recently. Two of which are students in the school you go to.”

“From… my school? What’re their names?”

Logan flips the pages of the newspaper. “Let’s see… Oh, perhaps I remembered it incorrectly. There is only one missing person from your school. Dallon Montgomery, 17 years old. Do you know him?”

And where did he hear that name, again? Could it be? “I don’t, but Patton knows everyone from school. He might. Is there anything about a girl named Clara?”

“None that I know of.”

Virgil nodded. This is fine, he thought. Just his mind playing tricks on him again. The sun hasn’t even risen yet and things were already fucking with him. He excused himself for a moment and went down to the kitchen. Virgil took the plate of cookies and dragged the other two by the arm, causing them to follow behind him. Soon enough, all four of them were in Logan’s room, sitting on the bed with their legs crossed.

“Patton, you mentioned a Dallon earlier. What’s his real name?”

“Dallon Montgomery, why?” Patton replied through a mouthful of cookies.

“Virgil who is this?” asked Logan through a whisper, tugging softly on his best friend’s hoodie.

“Ah, right, introductions. Patton this is Logan, Logan this is Patton. We’re friends now, I think.”

“Of course we are, you sweet shadowling! By the way, Logan, we have the same glasses! Except you can’t see them because I left them at home.”

“Why am I here?” Roman whined, taking the Doritos from Virgil. He got a glare, but they’re on good terms so it’s fine.

Chaos ensues. The other three keep talking, which is good since they’re getting along, but Virgil had to discuss something with them. So much was going on, so Virgil grabbed his phone that was under his pillow (or Logan’s pillow, for that matter) and played an air horn sound effect. It caused Logan and Patton to jump in surprise, and Roman let out a deafening high-pitched scream.

Virgil smirked. “Anyways, as I was saying, something weird is going on. First I get a Spillr account-”

“You didn’t follow back.” Roman interjected. Virgil rolled his eyes and continued speaking.

“So I get a Spillr account out of the blue. I never downloaded it, I never made an account. But guess what, I wake up from a 3 hour nap and had a dream that I did in fact make one and even used fake information. I think it’s much more fitting to call it a nightmare, so that’s what I’m calling it. So in this nightmare, I didn’t end up creating an account but I do remember it said something weird about how I used incorrect information and that I should try again.”

“Where are you going with this?” His best friend asked.

“Eventually, I got murdered by the dark void. But before that, there were other two people who made an appearance that I can distinctly remember. One’s a girl with bleach blonde hair. She sits at the front of the class and owns a tumbler containing dark-colored liquid. The other is a boy with freckles all over one side of his face and yellow eyes. Which, I think are probably contact lenses.”

The description of the boy Virgil had mentioned was too familiar. Logan felt like Virgil had just described his good friend, Dmitri. “I’m going to interrupt for a moment. I know someone with freckles on the left side of their face and uses contact lenses with unique eye colors. His name is Dmitri, perhaps you know him?”

“No? I’ve never met anyone with that name ever.” Virgil replied.

“What are we supposed to do with this information? Interpret your dream?” Roman joked.

“And whilst walking with Patton moments prior to this, he mentioned something about a girl in Math class going missing. He described her as how I described the girl in my dream. He said her name was Clara. Before that, he got a phone call and I know eavesdropping is wrong but he was next to me so I could hear what Patton was saying. He mentioned the name Dallon. Also, at one point, his phone was glowing and so were his eyes and I freaked out and slapped the phone out of his hands but that’s not important. Or is it? Okay so after that phone incident, I asked him about when Clara had gone missing but he said he didn’t know anyone at school named Clara.”

By now, the other three were confused as hell. Logan spoke up. “Could you talk a bit slower? There is so much information that I can’t comprehend.”

Virgil sighed. “Let me put it in a timeline for you.” He rummaged through the bedside drawer and fished out a piece of paper and a pen. He drew a line and a few points and began explaining.

“Yesterday I took a nap here on Logan’s bed. I cannot recall anything that happened before I fell asleep so don’t ask. I woke up before dinner and found out that I had a Spillr account. I deleted it because that shit is creepy as hell and overrated. My phone glitched momentarily and I think it’s just my eyesight going bad, but all the app icons turned into the Spillr one, so that’s fucking freaky. Early this morning I went to 7-11 and bought two bags of Doritos and two cans of Pepsi. When I was walking back here, that’s when Patton saw me and started talking to me. I didn’t want to talk to him at first, but look where we are now. Then these events go as follows: Patton gets a phone call. Patton tells me about missing girl from Math class. Patton’s phone does the glowy thing and so does his eyes. Again, my eyesight is really bad but I swear his phone glitched and I saw an eye for a second. Patton forgets mentioning Clara. Now we’re here and Logan’s telling me that he knows the boy I saw in my nightmare.”

“That is… a lot to take in.” Roman comments. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying that I think something strange is going on, and that things aren’t what they seem. I feel like I’m in some sort of danger.”

“Nonsense. If your eyesight is that bad, then let’s see how well you can read letters from a 20 feet distance.” He takes Virgil to one side of his room, where the Snellen eye chart is hung on the wall. Needless to say, he had perfect 20/20 vision despite being on his phone all the time.

“But L, what I’m trying to say is that my eyes are making me see things. I know I don’t need glasses.”

“Ah, but you would look adorable in them.”

Roman, Patton, and Virgil stared at him in shock. His brother speaks up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I am merely stating a fact. It’s true. Would you like to see the proof?”

“Yes please! Oooh, I wanna see Virge with glasses!”

Logan takes out his phone and goes through the album titled “Favorites” in his camera roll. He shows the other two a picture of Virgil wearing non-prescription glasses. The other two gush over the picture as Virgil retreats to hoodie town.

The sudden knocking at Logan’s window gave them a shock. Virgil runs back to the bed and takes out a baseball bat that was hidden underneath since it might be a robber and they could all die at that very moment. Patton squeaks and grabs Logan’s arm.

“Who dares enter this household?!” Roman threatens, drawing back the curtains. The room was on the second floor, but the first floor had a high ceiling. There was nothing nearby—like trees, for example—that could give easy access to the window, unless the person had a ladder.

No one was outside the window, except for a piece of torn paper attached to the window with tape. Roman opens the window and snatches the piece of paper.

Written on it were the words “I see you.” and below it was a drawing of an eye similar to the Spillr icon.

“I’m siding with Virgil, this is scary!” Patton says, still clinging onto Logan’s arm like his life depended on it. Logan didn’t seem to mind.

“You know what? Me too.” Roman adds.

They look at Logan who appeared to be deep in thought.

“This is but an elaborate prank.” He says.

Then Roman receives a notification. He takes out his phone to see what it was. There was nothing. His phone started to glow a bright white and his eyes felt so drawn to it, he couldn’t look away. Virgil screamed and threw it on the beanbag, which was quite far from the bed, but it landed on the beanbag anyways.

“That’s what happened to Patton earlier! This is not a prank, L!”

“That happened… to me?” Patton asked, clearly terrified.

“Roman, give me the piece of paper.” His older brother demanded.

“What paper, Lo?”

“The one that was on the window, dumbass!”

“What do you mean? Did you start putting your research papers on the window? You have a lot of space on the walls, you know.”

“Roman, stop playing dumb.”

“I really don’t know anything about papers on windows. Hold on, lemme post on Spillr that I baked cookies.”

Logan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too early for this bullshit. Virgil on the other hand, was freaking out along with Patton. Their new friend had released Logan’s arm from his death grip and moved closer to Virgil.

“Um, who changed my lockscreen to this ugly thing?” Roman asked, showing his phone which had a white eye icon in the middle with a solid black background. Similar to the drawing on the paper.

Patton spots the torn piece of paper on the floor, and hands it to Logan. “Look, I found it!”

“That’s great, Patton.” He mutters.

It was folded again. Logan unfolded it but this time, instead of one eye, the entire thing was covered in eyes with the text remaining the same. Roman could’ve switched it, right? He folds it again then unfolds it, and it was back to how they had originally seen it. One eye and the text in the middle.

“I’m calling Dmitri and inviting him over. He might know something.”

“This early?”

“Don’t worry Patton, I’m certain he sleeps at 4 in the morning.”

“Wait Lo, why don’t we call our parents?”

“Roman, while that is a good idea, I don’t think they’ll believe us.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

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Previous 

[writingonthemoon]

Old Clothes Part 4

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Word Count: ≈ 2116

Warnings: Mentions of death, murder, fear of failure

Author's Note: Okay, so I accidentally started previously that Odette first Burned when she was nine.  That was incorrect as she was much younger.  Also, this isn’t exactly what I wanted for this part, but I think it sets up my plans for the next part nicely.

Old clothes are always a little strange.  Someone once loved them—cherished them—and now they’re nothing more than a mask.  The quality vanishes with the donation bin.  Dresses for the rich are now for the poor and those for the poor are falling to pieces.  Those stitched by mothers have a different energy about them.  The love that holds the fabric together never quite fades and it always remains soft, even after the countless storms and attacks of nature.  The items warmed your soul whenever they were held and the rush of emotions was overwhelming in the most brilliant way possible.  My sister missed the opportunity for that feeling.

     My mother used to make my clothes for me. She would buy the fabrics and spend an entire Sunday making me a new outfit. They were my favourite things in all the world. We only kept one when we first left. It was the one I was wearing, but it wasn't the same when it was handed down to Clara. Ashes had woven their way into the seams and the smell of fire lingered no matter what we would do. The warmth of love carried the burning of a fire. Delicate lace that lined the edges were rough with hardened emotions.

      I sighed and motioned for my audience to sit down. Jack and Davey pulled chairs out from my table, still staying quite close. Albert grabbed a seat for Crutchie and himself, while Buttons plopped himself on the ground with his legs crossed. "Before I say anything else, you have to promise you won't tell anyone. Not a soul. I shouldn't be telling you any of this since it puts more people than just me in danger, but I think you deserve to know. Promise." I made eye contact with every one of them and they all nodded in reply. "Great. Fantastic. Brilliant." I ran my hand through my hair once again.

     "I was born in London, I believe, in 1791. My father's name is—was James and my mother's name was Lilijah. At least, that's what their names were while I was growing up. The Burn existed long before I was born, probably back when the first monarchies began. It was never meant to be a way of life. The Burn... it was always a safety procedure, a cautionary plan if you will.

     "Say everything goes wrong. You're being framed for murder or are being chased by the police or mafia or it's anything else that's basically the end of the world for you. Well, in my family, that's the end of the world for whomever you were. Then, you are reborn, so to speak.

     "It's simple enough, really. Everything you once owned, your clothes, books, anything that could identify you, would be taken out to an empty space. There, you set a match to it, lighting everything ablaze and erasing all evidence of you ever existing. It worked exceptionally well when I was little since towns and cities were so spread out and people just died suddenly, but people would notice if you just disappeared since there were so few people living in the area. Today, it's easy to vanish, but harder to locate a burn spot.

     "Once the ashes lay at your feet, you build yourself again. New name, new place, new story. Of course, this plan wasn't meant for frequent use. So you have to get creative sometimes. I can't even tell you how many people I've become. My name is Odette Davenport, though. It's the one thing I've always known. I don't know my birthday, where I'm truly from, how I prefer my tea or if I even like tea. At this point, Odette is just another character I'm to play before I move on from this place."

     My gaze met the ground as I paused, not knowing how to go on. Two of these boys were related to me. They have a right to know, but should they? Who knew how many times Clara and Elijah had Burned before settling down and washing the ash from their nailbeds. Did they even share the family shame with anyone or was it the secret that killed them? No, they should know. They should know why.

     Jesse. No, he's not Jesse. Jesse is gone now, he doesn't matter. This one does. He's different, better than Jesse. In his eyes, I'm a person. A real person who feels the same as others do and thinks the same thoughts. I'm just older, suffering a long-lasting curse, just as he is. His leg was the poison that was crawling through his body and killing him slowly. The water rushed through my veins, stripping away any sign of illness or death, keeping me alive. How I wished I could switch with him, feel sickness and pain and worry about mortality instead of harbouring the fear of my past coming up behind me and pushing me over the edge, only to fall forever.

      Jack and Davey must think I'm insane with my tale. That or they're calling into question what they knew about life and the universe.  Perhaps it was both at once.  The two need not be here, listening to my woes, yet they sit in anticipation, awaiting my next breath.  But why?  This has no consequence upon their lives.  I’m merely a single person in a list of thousands that they’ve met just in a day.  Compared to the years they would exist, it’s an interaction that means most nothing.  Yet they are content with sitting and giving me their attention as if I were the Queen during a time of war.  An odd comparison since my actions would lead me down a far less noble path where I would abdicate the throne and flee the country.

     "I was four when I first Burned.  I had accidentally stolen food and my parents feared the worst.  We weren't living in a town known for forgiveness.  We packed up in the middle of the night, brought everything out to the field.  I still feel the scorching heat on my face sometimes, when I’m at my lowest.  The smell of burning memories in one you never think you'll know, but you’ll never forget it either.  We kept very few things from my first life.  My grandmother's ring," I held up my hand to show off the flat gold front with worn initials carved into the front, "some money, the clothes we were wearing, and our names." There was a small gasp from Buttons and Albert.  The family trait for worry and fear of failure seemed to run deeper than I thought.

     "My brother Elijah Burned when he was five and Clara was only one at the time.  Once again, it was all my fault.  My mind escaped me and I wandered to follow it.  I was only ten and they shouldn’t have blamed me for what I came across." I huffed and shook my head, clearing the daunting image from my brain, "It was a body, what I found.  I...They thought I killed him.  Me, a ten-year-old, killed a fully grown man.  I was going to be arrested, put on death row, for something I didn’t do.  So we Burned.  After that, it became frequent.  The five of us carried matches on our person just in case we had to leave in a hurry.  We no longer controlled the burn.  It controlled us."

     "Wait, you was four when youse did this?" I nodded to Jack, confirming the answer he knew, "But you was just a kid!  That ain’t right!"

     "I lived in different times, Jack.  Very different times.  I was British in America not eight years after the War for Independence.  They would do anything to get rid of us.  It was like we were a plague when we wanted out of England the same way they did." I glanced out the dingy window, seeing the onset twilight, "Oh god, I best be going." I pushed myself off the table I was perched on, "Thank you for the supplies to fix myself up and I guess for listening to part of my life story." My mouth met the cheeks of each boy in thanks, something I had picked up in my travels.  I started backing out of the room when Crutchie’s face caught my eye.  He was crestfallen, the corners of his mouth turning down as he sighed and kicked lightly at the ground.  I couldn't just leave like this.  Not after what I had told them all.  But I needed to. "Do one of you think you could walk me to my hotel?  It is quite dark and I don’t want to be in any danger."

     Before anyone could respond, Jack stepped forward, "I'll take ya.  I know dese streets betta than anyone else." He led me out the Lodging House as I waved at the boys in a final goodbye.  I uttered the address of my temporary arrangements and we stalked the streets in silence, becoming long shadows that extend for miles around sharp corners.  I watched Jack more than the path ahead of me, trying to piece together the mystery I wanted to know.  He and Davey... what was it about them?

     "You know, if ya wanna look at me, starin' like that ain't too covert."

     "Davey," Jack's posture straightened and I could tell his breaths were shallowing, "there's something about him you like, isn't there.  More than just a friend perhaps."

      "I don't know what youse talkin' 'bout.  Dave is one a my best friends," I saw the slight fall in his expression, turning to sadness and bitterness, "Why would there be anything else to 'im that I like?  It's not like I'll just listen to him go on hours 'bout nothin'.  And it ain't his pretty eyes or soft hair or anything.  Definitely not." He shook his head and met my gaze, a pleading look on his face.  Nobody could know.  Even if Jack couldn't help himself when it came to talking about his counterpart, no one could know.

     "Definitely not." I winked at him and we chuckled.  A quiet followed afterwards until Jack broke the invisible barrier

     "You ain't gonna leave us, right?  Not yet?"

     I stared him dead in the eye, ready to avoid making the real decision, "Of course not.  There’s still so much you all don't know yet."

     "Great.  I think Al and Buttons really enjoy having you here.  Crutch too.  He doesn't trust many too much.  There's only a few of us he’s real close to.  Somethin' about you is different.  I could see it in his face.  I think he really likes ya." I blushed at the thought of Crutchie liking me.  It wasn't a concept that was foreign to me, but I didn't expect it from this boy after hearing I was immortal.

      The middle-class building loomed above us, beckoning me towards the room I had booked, "I guess this is me." I shrugged and thanked Jack for walking me.  he stole a hug before running back into the night.  My fingers found my hair as I entered the building, climbing the stairs.  The room I had booked was tiny, a single bed crammed against the wall and a trunk placed at the end.   A window was across from the door, leading to the fire escape, and there was a cracked mirror mounted by a closet that would fit only a child.

     My fingers found their way around the room, collecting my things as my mind ran around the world, searching for a place to run to.  The checklist was losing empty boxes and the panic inside me wasn't reflected on the outside. This was normal.  My footsteps were almost nonexistent as I floated out of the room and to the empty bathroom shared by all the guests on my floor.  The lock flicked shut at my will and I carefully stacked my items within the confines of the bathtub.  I opened the window to filter the air into the black night.

     But the boys.  I couldn't do this to them.  My family.  Crutchie.  It wasn't fair that I was leaving them in the dark, no idea of the end or middle of the story.  then again, life was never fair either.  Certainly not this one.  The moment I started this, it went downhill.  I studied the pile across from me, spinning the historic ring around my finger.  My hand found the box in my pocket.  A snap of the wrist later and my face was illuminated with the soft glow of the burning match. Ashes were always the beginning, but what was the end?

[lillaxtrigger]

Faded land: Chapter 16

The moons lunar glow shines down upon an abandoned tower; the chimeric bear’s groan echoing across the city skyline. Surrounding the broken building’s fragile base be the ever vigilant Canadian military; the soldiers pouring out from the back of their vans, armed to the brim with advance weaponry, ready to take down whatever mutant abomination threatens the city of Niagara. Peeking out from one of these floating vans, the scientist takes a glance towards the entrance; the front doors swarming with rows of marching troopers. Obviously not gonna find anybody with even half a frontal lob sneaking through their anytime soon. Maybe the back will serve as a better point of entry.

Going around towards the back, Clara takes cover from the Canadian soldiers behind their own vehicles; dashing towards the back from van to van in hopes of finding another way in. In the midst of her advance, the scientist is halted by a few patrolling troops wandering about the surrounding streets. Carefully, she bides her time, patiently awaiting for the right moment to dart past the gaze under their helms. Once their site ventured away from her general direction, Clara zips across the wide gap between vehicles. She manages to dive behind one of the vans just before the troops returned their site towards her direction. Having evade the soldiers detection, the scientist lets loose a relieved breath; resuming her stealthy progress behind the tower. Hopefully, the back door’s all clear.

Alas, her wishes prove to be nothing but; finding the back to have its own share of protection from entry, with two guards manning the way in. Looks like these guys got every side of this place locked down tight; not a single spot for her to squeeze herself in without drawing the whole brigades rifle barrels towards her precious hooded head. Still, they can’t possibly have every corner covered. There has to be some way for the scientist to get inside. And she better find one fast. It won’t take long for all of them to storm the place and reach her mutant steed.

In her observation, she soon takes notice of the large shadow rising along the moonlit tower; looking above to witness a circular aircraft flying by. From the ground, she could tell that this bizarre aircraft belonged to the northern mounties; sporting what appeared to be a similar color scheme to their ground vehicles. Seems to be a bit impractical for personal air use, but these maple leaved troopers have boasted technology that has surpassed her expectation before. You never really can predict these guys will pull out of their armored asses next.

Shortly after marveling the flying saucer, Clara’s ears catches the familiar roar from above. The round aircraft begins to encircle the towers top, firing out towards the roof a set of teargas bombs. The ships strike is swiftly thwarted, the smoke bombs knocked aside. From the roof, a sticky webbing entangles the circular aircraft; the silk causing the ship to plummet towards the earth. Watching the ship plummet down upon the streets nearby, the scientist witnesses some of the troops withdrawing from their positions and racing towards the crash; some of them being the troops that guard the back entrance. With the surrounding guard distracted, Clara takes her chance and dashes straight inside the tower.

From the backdoor, the scientist dashes right through a collection of built in vendors; their delectably delicious goods and services having long since discontinued. The only reminisce of their mark now be the persistence stench of rotting food; an aroma which Clara unfortunately sprints through. Oh god! You can practically taste the rotting flesh of decaying meat and fruit.

Coming out from the hall of death scented corporate planned consumerism, Clara finds herself staring upon a whole row of the Canadian troop. Before any of them could take notice of her, the scientist swiftly dives right behind the front desk. Glancing beyond its aged oak; she found the mounties making the marching via the stairwell; each armed with a plethora of deadly firearms. Doubt any of them would want to risk firing off one of their weapons within this withered tower; this place giving off the air of crippling dilapidation more than anything else. Cracked marble floors, weak molding walls; caving ceiling; demonstrating the fact that this towers old as the city itself. Even the furniture and equipment give off this feeling; Clara recognizing some of the brands on the appliances from her time. All of it just screams how close this place is from turning into a pile of concrete at the drop of a hat. Kind of worrisome then how much heat these troops are packing; one shot from their rifles and this whole place is coming down harder than chromium. Might make her ascent up this tower kind of complicated with all the heat crawling around; gonna need to find another way up.

Beside the row of armored mounties was a pair of elevator doors sitting to the side of the stairs. Just the kind of sneaky ascent up the tower she needs; a stealthy venture free from the sites of the Canadian troops. Only problem being how to get in said shaft. Doubt the soldiers to the side are gonna let her just waltz up and pry open the doors. They might not risk firing their weapons within the withered tower; though their hard metal gauntlets may prove to pack quite a punch. Just one bop from their knuckles would be enough to knock her out. Best find something to distract the Canadian brigades vigilant watch.

Looking towards the ceiling once more, she realized how much rot the roof really showed; cracks, moss, and mold blanketing nearly the entire plaster sheet. The weakest point of which positioned right above the marching troops; just need something to send it all crumbling down.

Ducking down behind the receptionists desk, the scientist searches for whatever she could huck at the ceiling. Not really much there that could punch through the ceilings plaster; most of it just being broken pens and discarded paper clips. Damn scavengers. Just taking whatever isn’t nailed to the floor. What kind of worthless crap could you possibly want to loot from behind a hotels front desk, huh? Keys, papers, clipboards? Its truly a wonder what they might be going through their heads to think any of that has practicality.

Luckily, Clara’s hunt winds up revealing an unexpected find; spotting an oddity laying upon the marble set to the side. Reaching out for the item, the scientist fancies a closer inspection and finds it to be plastic head; its gaping mouth giving the impression that its screaming unfiltered horror. Judging from its plastic shell and where it was discarded, she deduces that this unsettling head is meant to be a desk bobble of sorts. Who in their right mind would think that this would pleasing for potential guests to stare into while checking into a room? Gives off the impression that your staying at a haunted hotel; with a crazed axe murder ready to burst through the door and hack your head off. Regardless of its disturbing looks, it should be enough to send the roof raining down on those marching mounties.

With this in mind, she takes aim towards the crack on the ceiling and chucks the knickknack over the desk like a lobbed baseball. A single strike to the ceiling is all it takes to bring it all down on the marching brigade; the rubble of which buries some of the solider. Some of the Canadian troops jump away from the fallen debris; while other tempt to help dig their comrades out from the mess. In the middle of this chaos, one of the soldier spots something going through the elevator doors.

Prying open its steel hatch, the soldier inspects inside of the shaft; the glow if its armor illuminating the rising tunnel. From the doors, they finds not a single speck of life to behold; simply the rustic metal of girders along the corners. Glancing up doesn’t reveal much either; nothing but the cable trailing up beyond the light of his suit. Before they could inspect further; the soldier hears a demand from one of their comrades. “Everybody! Help dig these soldiers out!” With this command, the soldier retreats from the elevator shaft; unaware of the scientist that they searched for hanging right along one of the shafts bars above. Once the coast was clear, Clara leaps off the side of the shaft and grabs hold of the dangling wire; swiftly beginning her ascent up the towering tunnel.

Clara’s climb up the discontinued elevator shaft leads her over hundreds of feet from the ground floor; with nothing below her other than the inky dark void. Inching her way up also lends her plenty of time to dwell on the questions that have been scratching at her thoughts; a prime example being on the subject of her mutant steed atop this very tower. She can’t help but wonder why of all places to flee did she decide to seek shelter at such a high point. Might as well just announce yourself to the whole city right then and there. A better question being why Angelo simply didn’t bail once the Canadian troops moved in; her being more likely to flee than fight? It’s not like she couldn’t if she wanted to. Just drop down and swing away from the mounties like a spider themed super hero. Is she really that sick that she can’t muster the energy to even do that much? The further the scientist digs into the matter, the further guilt and regret seeps its way within her.

But before her mind could wonder any deeper on these thoughts, a loud boom could be heard from beyond the tunnel, making the entire shaft viciously quakes. Among the sudden tremor, the scientist takes a tight grip of the trembling steel wire and holds on for dear life. The tremors quickly calming, Clara hears the sound of twanging metal and gazes up to find the wire unraveling before her eyes. Knowing all too well what events will unfold when the wires snaps, she jumps to one of the shaft doors set to the side. As soon as she lands upon the edge of the shaft, the scientist immediately begins to pry the hatch open; frantically jerking apart the pair of steel doors. With every bit of strength Clara could summon, she slowly starts to inch the doors open; her eyes beholding the welcoming site of the hallways from beyond their steel. It’s then that the cable finally snaps; the harsh sound of grinding steel echoing through the shaft quickly after. Hearing the sound of scraping metal closing in, Clara starts to squeeze through what little space she’s given herself. The grinding growing louder; the scientist forces herself through the tight set of steel; the edge of the doors scraping against her skin. Fortunately, she manages to pull herself out with next to no injury; simply flopping down onto the hallway floor.

As soon as Clara smacks herself against the hallways torn carpet, she witnesses the elevator streaks right down; the thunderous roar of its crash echoing quickly after. Free from harms freight train of descending steel, her entire body goes limp along the carpet as a heavy breath escapes her lungs. God damn, that was way too close! Almost wound up as another mess for the Canadians to scrape off. What in their right mind would urge them to fire off one of their highly destructive weapons around this example of poor demolition waiting to happen?

Thinking this, her ears catch the echoing bangs of gunfire coming from outside. Doesn’t sound like one of their weapons. Sounds less like firing plasma and more like shooting led. Only people she knows that still use such archaic artillery around here are...Oh no…

Rising from the torn carpeting, the scientist traces the ongoing gunfire towards a room set to the side; hearing the blasts of firing plasma join in the symphony. Taking a peek out of the window, she follows the resounding chaos down to the streets below. Beneath her be a raging firefight; the Canadian troopers blasting towards a familiar set of masked guns. No. Though the mounties begin to push the masked forces back, an unmarked black van soon changes that fact; racing into the scene and running over some of the armored soldiers. No. Coming to a screeching halt, the back doors of the black vehicle burst open; lunging out from the inside be the murderous punk herself. No!

With but nothing but the edge of her machete and the strength of her body; Shoa starts quite literally tearing through the armored forces. In her furious assault, the punk casts her blade towards a distant soldier; the machete’s tip piercing straight through their helm protected skull. Dashing towards the impaled solider, several others attempt to halt Shoa’s approach; the punk goes forth with a devilish smile. With one of the mounties approach, the punk grabs hold of their arm before leaping through the air. At the ark of her jump, she lobs the armored bastard towards their aiming comrades; both soldiers inadvertently blasting one of their own as the corpse slams down on them. In her descent, the punk clasps the grip of her machete; pulling it and the troopers head clean of their shoulders. Witnessing a soldiers to the side taking aim at her, Shoa swings her machete and lobs the soldiers head towards their comrade. Before the maple leaved trooper could fire, the decapitated head smacks against the soldiers own helm; knocking him out cold.

The punks maniacal laughter echoing through the block, Shoa lets out a boastful taunt to the rest of the Canadian squad. “Is this all ya maple leaved pansies can bring to the table!? Come on! I want a real brawl on my hands! Make me spill some blood!” Its then on that the rest of the remaining mounties all lunge towards her in an effort to halt her assault; all the while the woman continues her insane chortling.

Why are these guys here!? It was only a couple hours when all of them were snoozing the night away; how they manage to round themselves up so fast!? A more worrisome thought is why they’re here. Probably for the same reasons as the mounties. Honestly can’t think of what would happen if Angelo wound up in either of their clutches; or worse yet, who she’d be worse off with.

From behind the ongoing rumble, the scientist finds a familiar figure garbed in an overcoat; the Mysterious Dandy leading the rest of his remaining forces towards the back of the tower. In his infiltration, the Dandy looks towards one of the higher windows; noticing a hooded figure withdrawing from within.

Under the window, the scientist ruminates on how to ascend the tower as quickly as possible. This place looked to be around 30 or so floors from the outset; and judging from her glance out, her climb through the shaft has managed to get her up about half of that. Obviously not gonna be using it anytime soon. Pretty safe to say that elevator is out of order for good. The stairs on the other hand might show to be a much safer alternative up towards the top. Just hope the scientist legs have enough in them to outrun both the Canadian and resistance forces.

Like Clara had predicted, her ascent up the stairwell proves to be a much more stable venture. Kind of a hassle to climb up so many of these steps, but hell; the luxury of having actual solid ground to stand on is far worth the workout. An attitude that the scientist carries until she feels the tower quake beneath her feet; the trembling nearly causing her to fall down the set of steps. Thankfully, she grabs hold of the railing along the side; keeping a tight grip on the rusty steel until the tower calms down. Jesus, how hard of a firefight are those guys wagging down there? Gonna wind up bringing the whole place down in less than an hour at this rate. Better start picking up the pace on this upward jog.

Clara’s climb up the tower eventually comes to an abrupt halt; the moons glow shining upon a cave in of concrete and marble clogging up the rising stairwell. Doesn’t seem like there’s any way around or over it, not a single crack for the scientist to squeeze herself through. Looks like she’s not gonna be breaking through all of it anytime soon either; the scientist favoring more of a practice of brain then brawn. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to bust through it anyway; might wind up making an even bigger mess that’ll crash down right on her noggin. Never really know what could be holding this place together anymore. Could be the foundation, could be some random pile of rocks; who can really predict at this point. Not much you can do then just head back down and look for another way up.

While Clara simply tempts to turn back, her ears catch the approach of something that threatens to halt her climb outright. Beneath her feet echo the sound of approaching footsteps; their random taps growing louder with each second past. With the encroaching army looming below her, the scientist frantically looks around for somewhere to conceal her presence; though her current surrounding not promising much in terms of refuge. In her search does she take notice of the moonlight shining upon the blockade before her; swiftly turning away from the rubble and finding the source of the illumination.

“Man. Can’t wait to get my hands on that bear thing. Imagine all the cool shit we can do with it once we wrangle it in.” “Those Northern bastards ain’t gonna fuck with us with that mutant beast covering our backs.” “Wonder if it can spin webs like a real spider?” Ascending the steps, a cavalcade of resistance members come to a halt; a huge mound of broken concrete blocking their way up. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What the hell we got here?” “Uh, figured we run into something like this. This shitty place is falling apart at the seems.” “How do we get past it? Doubt we can squeeze our way through.” “Hold up!” one of them announces as he digs in his pants. From the depths of his trousers, the terrorist pulls out a round black sphere with a glowing fuchsia button at the top. “Nabbed one of these puppies of the corpse of a Canadian. Figured it might be a grenade. What say we just blow all this outta the way.” After suggesting this, one of his fellow member smacks him in the back of the head; berating him with: “You out of your damn mind!? We’re lucky this place hasn’t come down on our heads yet. You want to send us all to an early grave!?” “Yeah. Might as well just save those Canadians the trouble and blow our brains out here” “Lets just look for another way up.” Having said that, the merry band of gun totting terrorists start to head back down; unbeknownst to them of their former comrade hanging right outside the window.

Clara’s palms taking a tight grip on the windows ledge, her gaze can’t help but venture towards the streets below. She soon swiftly withdraws her eyes back towards the top of the tower with a frightened gasp. It’s alright girl. You’ve climbed up way higher than this before. Just trick your brain into thinking that the grounds just two feet below instead of a thousand. Should calm your phobias right down. Putting these thoughts on repeat, she reluctantly begins her climb up the towers face; realizing that it might be the fastest, and possibly only way toward the top.

One hand at a time, the scientist scales up the towers ancient brickwork; the winds of the city blowing right behind her towards the west. It doesn’t take long however before her climb suddenly takes a risky turn.

Above her, one of the Canadians mini ships encircles the tower overhead, the wind bellowing out from the aircraft's base threatening to blow her down. Struggling against the opposing gales, Clara takes a tight grip of the brickwork before her; her fingers nearly slipping off the stone. Thankfully, the ship passes right through before it makes her loose her hold; the scientist reestablishing her grasps against the towers face. Once her fight against the winds had pasted, Clara swiftly starts to look for a way back inside; wishing not to risk falling to her doom for another moment.

In the scientist search, she manages to spot somebody peeking out from one of the windows above. From the window does a woman lob out what seemed to be a grenade towards the ship; successfully dunking the explosive straight into its open cockpit. The ship soon bursts into a ball of burning steel; the aircraft pieces scattering all over the place. Some of the more sizable chunks wind up smacking against the towers face; the impact causing the brickwork that she held onto to crumble. Plummeting down towards the streets below, her hands reach out for whatever could put a swift end to her descent. Clara manages to grab hold of one of the windows below her, the sudden stop nearly making her slip once more. Thankfully, she swiftly scuttles back inside before she could resume her fall; drawing away from the fading explosion behind her. Crawling back within the towers inside, a ragged breath escapes Clara’s lungs. Seems like this faction war is getting worse by the minute. If she don’t pick up the pace on this race to the top, the scientist might wind up as a corpse caught in the crossfire.

With this in mind, the scientist looks to what part of the tower she scuttled into. Before her stood the dilapidated ruins of a once luxurious penthouse suite; now battered and bruised beyond its former glory. The glass that made up its windows now lay scattered along the molding carpet. The various furniture that decorated the living room now stand broken in pieces. The open kitchen beside it that house once the latest appliances, now coated and soiled in the mold that once made up its fridge and cabinets. An obvious elude to the grand march of time. But all of that mattered not a single bit to the scientist, simply hoping over it all and zipping straight towards the door. No time to admire the ruin and decay when the roof could collapse on your head at any moment.

But right when she was ready to retreat from this reminder of better days gone past; her little retreat is put on hold by a sudden TV flung between her and the door. “I’ll be damned. Guess you’re just full of surprises, ain’t ya Science Wiz.” That voice…It can’t be. Turning away from the ridiculously oversize plasma screen reveals her fears to be true; the maniacal punk standing behind her with a devious grin. “Didn’t expect you to make it through those sewers in one piece. Guess my rockin Dandy was right about you after all.” “Sh-Shoa! I...I can explain, I-” Clara attempts to excuse. “Shut it! I don’t want your excuses.” she barks, making the scientist withdraw away from the punk. “Ditching us without so much as a mention. Wasting a bunch of good people chasing you down. Makes me sick just thinking about it. Almost happy to do you in so that our base remains a secret.” “L-Listen. I swear I ain’t gonna tell anybody where your base is. Just let me go.” Clara attempts to plea. “Doesn’t matter if you promise to keep your mouth shut or not. Once you wind up in those mounties clutches, they’ll get ya to squeal. Even if they have to pry the info right outta yer skull. Shame too.” Behind her back, she pulls out her signature machete, the stains of red plastered all over its steel still dripping fresh. “Would’ve been more than happy to share the Dandy with you.”

After remarking this, the punk charges forth with her blood soaked blade thrusting forward. Rolling away from Shoa’s lethal lunge, Clara could feel the punks cold steel grazing past the top of her back. Evading her foes deadly blade, the scientist attempts to gain as much distance from the punk as possible. Alas, Shoa quickly halts her escape; taking a tight hold of her prey’s leg. “Oh no you don’t.” After falling upon the molding carpet, Clara could feel the punk lift her as easily as a discarded rag doll. “You’re not going anywhere!” The punk soon tosses her catch across the suite; the scientist slamming against the kitchen cupboards; bits of wood falling against Clara’s back as she lands behind the counter. Rising from the molding tile, the scientist hears the punks footsteps close in. “You ain’t the first person to try and run from me.”

In one fell swoop, she leaps right over the marble counter as she finishes with: “And you sure as hell ain’t gonna be the last!” Diving down upon the other side of the counter, her blades end meets with not the flesh of her foe; but the hard stone of the kitchen tile. “What!? Where did-?” Though she search across the kitchen for any sign of the scientist, she fails to realize that her prey hid right beside her; hiding within the counters cabinets. From the other side of those cabinets, Clara peeks out from the opposite doors; attempting to plan out another route of escape from her maniacal punk pursuer. From her limited view however, the only way she could find out from this once ridiculously overpriced hotel room be the front door. And there ain’t no way she’s got enough in her to lift a screen of that size out of the way. Why the hell did they even put TV’s that big in here anyway? Likely to inflict your guest UV radiation with screens that wide.

Before finishing these thoughts however, she hears the faint whisper of her name from her back. “Oh, Science wiz...” Glancing behind, she found Shoa glaring at her like a hungry wolf staring upon a cornered rabbit. “Peek a boo, bitch!” The scientist scuttles out from beneath the counter right before the punks swung her machete, its steel lodges within the aged wood of the cupboard. Rushing through the living room, Clara takes a peek back towards the kitchen; frightened of how easily Shoa breaks through the counters hard marble from right under it. Ain’t no way in hell she can take on a beast like her head on. Better to try and distract her long enough to push that TV aside. This plan cooking in her noggin, the scientist head straight into the suites bedroom; her punk pursuer hot on her tail.

Chasing straight after her prey, Shoa dashes straight through the bedroom door frame with a murderous smile. From within, she gazes upon the withered wood of the dresser; its lack of drawers lending very little in terms of hiding. “Ain’t no use hiding from me, ya traitorous scum.” Scanning across the room, she beheld the rustic pieces of metal décor laid strewn about the bedroom. Doubt any of them could pierce through her tough as hell skin, nor match up with her blade, so it’s not likely that bitch is planning a counterattack. “You’re just gonna wind up cornering yourself.” A look towards the bed, the surface sporting various fungus along its fibers. Pretty sure you can hear some kind of buzzing within the mattress itself. Probably would hear her squirming if she ducked under there. “Believe me. Those same mistakes wound up nearly costing me my hide.”

Her gaze then veers towards the closet set to the side; its doors barely reflecting her figure among the countless smudges and stains. With just a single punch, the punk shoves her arms straight through the ancient mirror; pulling the door right off its hinges. Unveiling what’s beyond the closet doors, a devilish smile stretches across Shoa’s cheeks; beholding a hooded figure huddled in the corner. Wrenching them out from the shadows, the punk flings the figure out from inside the closet; her machete ready to dig into her prey as they fall upon the floor. To her surprise however, the punk uncovers not the scientist that she seeks, but rather a scraggly bearded elder. Upon site of the murderous punk, the old man lets out a panicked wail and flees from the scene. “Learned that day that ya can’t hide in the same spot forever.”

From the closet, her glare ventures back towards the mold ridden bed; taking a tight grip of her blades handle. “Sometimes, ya have to move on!” Her blade held high, she swipes right through both the bed and its frame with a single slash. Cutting through the mattress, an entire nest of fly’s pour out from underneath its fibers; the punk covering her face as all of them swarm throughout the bedroom. Peeking out from between her fingers, Shoa watches as the nest of fly’s escape outside through the open window. Watching as the swarm flies off into the waning night, punk approaches the bedroom window with a curious thought popping into her mind. Did that bitch really just jump out the window? Peering out from beyond the broken glass of its frame, Shoa looks around to find nothing but the neighboring windows; one of which being open. Where the hell did she…

Outside the window, her ears catch the collapse of breaking furniture; a familiar voice grunting alongside the sound of crashing plastic. Oh hell no. Sprinting right out from the bedroom, the punk found the broken TV she had tossed moved aside; the door out into the hallway flung wide open. That sneaky motherfucker!

Racing through the musty hallway as fast as her legs could sprint, Clara aims to distance herself from her murderous punk pursuer as far as she can; the threatening tone of Shoa’s threats reaching her ears. “Can’t run forever, ya little science snake. I’ve been chasing people like this for over 10 years.” Glancing back, the scientist observes the punk tossing her machete through the corridor upon turning the corner. The blood soaked blade quickly closing in, Clara looks ahead and grabs whatever she could reach for. In her desperation, she snatches from the side of the hallway a small wooden pedestal, its elegant carvings decorated by the cracks and scratches of time. Shielding herself against Shoa’s pitched assault, the blade lodges itself halfway within the pedestals thick wood; near inches from the scientists head. After the impact, the scientist only line of defense crumbles within her arms; the blade clanging among the chunks of wood. Though tempting as it may be to wield the machete against its master, there be next to no time to dig it out from the corpse of the pedestal; witnessing the punk herself swiftly closing the distance. Instead, she makes haste away from the bloodthirsty terrorist; the punk herself effortlessly kicking away the wooden debris to retrieve her beloved weapon.

Running from the ferocious captain of the resistance like a rabbit fleeing from a vicious wolf, Clara soon corners herself within the confines of a dead end; nothing among her besides chunks of wood that once resembled a table. A hulking shadow blankets her her, the scientist glances back to find Shoa’s predatory gaze staring her down. “End of the line, cupcake.” With her prey cornered, the punk slowly encroaches forward with her blade at the ready; finishing her statement with: “Most of my prey just piss themselves when I’m chasing after their asses. It’s a nice change of pace to find someone with actual brains once in a while. If anything, this was fun while it lasted.”

Receding from her looming demise, Clara’s back rests against the remains of the broken table. Peeking back towards the table, she found very little to defend herself against the punks overwhelming might. Not a single scrap of wood here could hope to slow her down, much less stop her. Among the pieces however, she discovers what seemed to be an open air vent; one that looked like she could fit through. Just need time to dig through it.

From the furniture’s remains, Clara begins to chuck piece after piece towards the approaching punk; Shoa breaking away the oncoming parts of table to splinters with ease. “Come on, now. This is just sad.” With all her might, the scientist tosses the tables surface towards her pursuer; the punk catching the board right before the wood hit her face. “At least show some dignity, ya damn pansy!” she shouts, snapping the tables surface like a delicious crispy wafer. From beyond the wood however, she witnesses her prey scuttling into the tight open vent above the floor. Upon this site does Shoa immediately lunge towards the open vents; reaching her muscular arm out towards the escaping scientist. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” The punks hulking figure proves far too big to fit through the open vent as Shoa stretches her arm as far as she could through the air ducts; her fingers mere inches from the scuttling scientist feet. Her muscles scraping against the rustic sheet metal, the punk fails to reach any further; forced to watch as her hooded prey eludes her. Drawing herself back out, an angered roar escapes from her lungs as she punches the dead end. “Fuck!”

Crawling deeper within the towers ventilation system, a relieved breath leaves Clara lips. Glad to have gotten away from that homicidal maniac in one piece. Figured the scientist would have wound up as one of those corpses you see in those serial killer movies. The kind that the main protagonist finds on a stormy night to tell them and the audience that shit is about to go down. Probably would have turned up way worse with that bitch staring as the villain.

Slinking through the air ducts, her little escape soon leads her to the towers vertical vents, glancing below to find the shadowy abyss to be as deep as the tower itself. God, again with this? How many times is she gonna have to act out this climb up a thousands of feet from instant death? Calming herself from her panic, the scientist takes in a deep breath. It ain’t no big deal, Clara. You’ve climbed taller. For hell’s sake, you’ve just climbed the elevator shaft and face of this very tower several minutes ago. Just tell yourself what you said all those other times. The ground is closer than you think. Climbing out from the horizontal ducts, Clara keeps her head held high as she puts her arms against the tunnels metal. Wedging limbs on both sides, she begins to inch her way up through the ascending air ducts.

Her climb up doesn’t take her far however, as she soon feels the steel sheets between her tremble. Their constant quaking causes Clara to loose her hold on the air ducts, the scientist quickly beginning to plummet down towards the abyss below. Thankfully, she manages to grasp onto one of the horizontal tunnels and puts a stop to her unplanned descent. Geez, its practically like a ridiculously oversized match of Jenga with this place, ain’t it? Who knows how long it’ll be before it finally just falls apart and crashes into the streets. Kind of irresponsible on the city’s part if you think about it.

Hanging from the air ducts edge, she witnesses the tunnels above caving in, their sheet metal walls crushing and crumbling in on itself. Afraid of being crushed against the collapsing metal, Clara scuttles within the vents that her palms have held onto.

Inch my inch do the tunnels mangling steel draw closer after Clara, the scientist crawling for dear life in hopes of finding away out from the collapsing ducts. Turning the corner, her eyes soon meet with a light shining at the end of the tunnel; a smile stretching across theher face. That same grin suddenly breaks upon reaching the end however; finding the air vents blocking her way out screwed on tight. A look back down the ducts, Clara witnesses the crushing sheet metal inching ever closer; the scientist beginning to bang against the vent in hopes of knocking it loose. Judging from the lack of maintenance through this place, the screws keeping these grates closed have to be rusty beyond belief. A hypothesis that shows to be on the mark, the vents loosening with each punch and pound the scientist throws at it. Hearing the scrapping metal of the crushing ducts closing in fast, Clara packs everything she got into her final strike and breaks the grate right off its frame. Clara scuttles out from the collapsing tunnels like an fleeing insect; crawling out before the crushing sheet metal could grab hold of her leg.

From the air ducts, the scientist scampers out to behind a bar; looking back to witness the tunnels she had rushed through scrunching shut. Having escaped from the ducts before the sheet metal could crunch upon her soft body; Clara’s goes limps against the counters open insides. Not really sure know many of these near death experiences she can take tonight. Really giving the nerves one hell of a workout. Her figure instantly tightens however upon the sudden sound of gunfire nearby. Dammit! What now!

Taking a glance over the bar, the scientist soon finds herself caught in the midst of an ensuing firefight; both factions of the resistance and the Canadians engaging one another throughout what seemed to be a built in restaurant. And from the look of the scene playing out, the restaurant isn’t the only things that’s getting destroyed. While only a couple of Canadians stand against the terrorist surrounding them, their numbers don’t mean a damn. Against the mounties unyielding defenses, their foes led based firearms proves completely ineffective; the resistance bullets simply ricocheting off the Canadian soldiers armored shells. With next to nothing slowing down their approach, one trooper races towards the terrorists; literally breaking through their cover and hoisting one off the floor. The soldier flings the resistance member away from his comrades and sends them flying across the restaurant. From the other side of the establishment, the terrorist crashes right into the drink dispenser. Upon impact does some of the terrorist weaponry scatter across the floor, their pistol sliding near the bar where the scientist hid.

“Maple leaved bastards!” one of them screams, charging forth whilst holding up one of the tables. The terrorist rams into one of the troops with all his might, pinning them against the wall to give his comrades a fighting chance and allows them to rush towards the rest of the forces. Lunging after the couple of mounties, the other terrorist unload whatever they had stocked against the two. Try as their cooperation might to pierce through their armored hides, their combined efforts prove no match for the northern soldiers might; the troop racing through the hailstorm of led and decimating the opposing forces. One of the soldiers quash a couple of the retreating terrorist by grabbing hold of ones leg and swinging her against her comrades like a living bat. After thwacking her teammates away, the Canadian trooper slams the terrorist against the tiled floor.

One of the resistance members attempts to snatch the laser rifle off one of the soldiers backs, grasping the barrel of their futuristic firearms. Swiping the rifle, the terrorist aims the barrel towards its master; the Canadian turning back as he readies to fire. Pulling the trigger, the kickback causing him to misfire; a stream of deadly plasma streaking past the soldiers head. Bursting through the restaurant wall, the blast causes the tower to tremor once more; the quaking making the resistance member to loose his grip of the plasma based firearms. As the building calms its trembling; the armored soldier swiftly acts fast and lunges towards the bastard that swiped their weapon. Approaching the reckless resistance member, the soldier snaps his neck with only a single punch; retrieving their plasma rifle set beside their fallen corpse.

“No!” the one holding the soldiers against the wall screams. Though he held out for as long as he could, the Canadian troops ultimately break through the terrorist’s hold; shattering the tabling holding them back to pieces. Knocked back by the soldiers superb strength; the resistance member retreats away from their approach.

Watching them flee from the armored forces, Clara finds past all the brutality the open exit; the scientist ticket out from this merciless display of Canadian carnage. Gotta think of something to get past all this soon. Once those mounties are finished dealing with those terrorist, they might scope her out next. To that end, the scientist searches behind the bar for whatever could aid her escape; most of which she finds being worthless empty bottles, peanut shells, and the occasional cork opener. Nothing really that helpful given the situation she’s in. Might be able to smash the bottles over the terrorists heads, though it probably wouldn’t even put a dent in the mounties armored helms. Not even the glass shards could scrape through those bullet proof shells. Gonna need something with a lot more punch behind it to stop them.

Her eyes trailing across the bars underside; Clara picks up the faint reflection of light from underneath a set of blinds. Pulling back the shroud, the scientist uncovers a steel barrel hiding behind a set of black curtains. Whoa! How’d the raiders missed this big boy? Just a 15 gallon keg of unfiltered alcohol sitting around here? Is it even full? A question that the scientist tempts to answer by putting her ear against the kegs side and knocking. With each tap of its steel, she heard little of an echo reach her ear; telling her that the barrel was full to the brim. Hard to believe that this puppy still packing a full tank. Figured it would have been drank out by any desperate alcoholic willing to brave through this unstable tower; all just for the comfort sensation of a final buzz in this apocalyptic hellscape. Still, the question stands. Just what kind of beverage would they be getting plastered off their asses from?

Inspecting the keg on all sides revealed not a single hint of its contents; its steel surface free from any distinct print. Glancing its lid reveal nothing either, simply the unbroken seal keeping the booze sealed tight. Looking upon its bottom finally revealed to the scientist what the steel barrel hid inside. “Absolut: Century of Sweden Vodka.” Damn! They got the heavy stuff here. Practically have an alcoholic bomb stashed behind this bars aging mahogany. The perfect solution for clearing out a whole bar full of homicidal maniacs. Just gotta find a way to light it.

The scientist takes a swift peak beyond the bar; wondering what among the show of Carnage could help her detonate her newfound payload. The rifles off the soldiers back might do the trick, one shot of plasma aimed towards the keg should be more then enough to blow the whole bar apart. Might be far too risky to try and snatch one of them of the troops back though, especially with what one of the resistance members try to pull; probably not gonna let anybody try that shit again. The terrorist weapons on the other hand are practically everywhere; if not on their corpses, then some lying across the tile. Alas, none of their led might not have enough in them to pierce through the kegs steel shell; much less give enough of a spark to set its contents ablaze. Need something stronger to light its liquid fuse.

The scientist decides to seek answers above the chaos; taking note of the light fixture lining the roof that once illuminated this brewery. Their fragile florescent glass might have enough leftover electricity trapped within to ignite the flames of her super molotov. One of the terrorists guns would have no problem breaking the bulbs; and she knows just where to get one of them.

Ducking back down the bar, Clara peeks out from side; her eyes glued towards the little pistol left lying close to the counter. Having found the perfect kick starter to her little plan; she start to inch out from the counter and reached towards the tiny firearms. Though she attempts to slowly reach for the weapon; her approaching grip is halted by a wayward bullet nearly striking her hand. Glancing back towards the carnage; the scientist had witnessed one of the terrorist squirming under a soldiers arm; unloading his uzi’s ammo on the Canadian keeping him in a stranglehold. Though no matter how much led he unloads onto the trooper; his bullets simply bounce off the soldiers armor; ricocheting all throughout the restaurant. The led that flies across the brewery winds up striking a couple of his comrades, forcing the resistance group to take cover from. His uncontrolled fury is swiftly put to an end; the Canadian trooper grasping at the terrorists face and snapping the mans neck in one fell swoop. Once dispatched their foes unkempt led fury, the soldier hurls his limp corpse towards his alleys with enough force to break their cover to pieces. Having bared site to all of this urges Clara to cut the careful crap and quickly crawl towards the abandoned pistol. Swiping the small firearms off the floor; the scientist quickly withdraws back behind the bar.

Once back within the safety of the counter; she turns her attention back to her newfound molotov; snatching one of the cork openers off the floor as she approaches the steel barrel. Dragging the keg out from under the cabinet, Clara starts repeatedly shoving the long screw into its top; hoping to unseal the Russian nectar trap within its shell. As she constantly jabs the steel barrels opening; her ears can’t help but catch the panicking screams echoing over the counter. Taking a quick glance over the counter reveals the resistance forces dwindling; several of the terrorist left alive now hoping over their friends bodies littered throughout the floor in hopes of distancing from their foe. The scientist watches a resistance members trip right over one of their comrades; turning back to watch one of the mounties leaping right over the countless corpses; their boot aimed right towards the terrorists head. Try as she might to scuttle away from the descending Canadian; the resistance member is quite literally stamped out beneath the troopers armored heel. Serving as a clear indication of how much time she has left, the display of brutality urges Clara to frantically jabs the steel barrels top before the mounties turn their sites to her.

At last, the scientist punches through the kegs top; releasing the vodka’s aroma into the air. A single whiff of the alcohols aging stench is all it takes to repulse her. Ugh, god! This stuff is rancid beyond all types of nasty! Smells worse than a burning nuclear reactor. How long has this barrel been hiding in here? This vodka has probably rotted away years ago. Still, even if its contents are no good to consume, its doubtful that time has chipped away its volatile qualities. A certainty that the scientist keeps in mind as she start to drag the keg full of rotten alcohol towards the other side of the bar.

Peeking out from behind the side of the counter, the scientist gauges the best route for her cylinder bomb to travel. She knew that to reach the below the lights, she’d have to plan a path for the keg free from the bodies littering the restaurant. With a single finger, she traces where the vodka would spill on the floor; drawing away from any obstructions until she reaches the underside of the lights. A path set, she places the steel barrel on its side and takes aim; the vodka within spilling out onto the brewery’s tile. Wishing to not waste any alcohol, Clara waits not another second and pushes the barrel out into the untamed chaos; the kegs contents trailing behind as it rolls past the brawling factions. Both the Canadians and the terrorists prove far too distracted fighting among each other to notice the seemingly random steel barrel cruising across the restaurant. Though its travel don’t go unhindered, as its edge lightly taps a cadavers elbow; the steel barrel inching off course from the bulbs set above. Even then, the vodka pouring out spills just mere inches away from the lights; the bulbs sparks could still connect.

With time and vodka of the essence, the scientist aims her freshly pilfered pistol towards the lights above. As Clara attempts to line her firearms barrel towards the bulbs, she found her grip refusing to cease trembling. Can’t get a clear shot of the fixtures with her grasp shivering like this. And who knows how many bullets are left in this thing. Need to prop her hands onto something to quell her aim.

Glancing at the bars counter top showed the scientist that despite a few cracks, was still stood smooth as silk; perfectly leveled from corner to corner. A fact that she takes full advantage of by propping her arms against its marble to stabilize her aim. Resting her arms upon the bars surface, her quivering aim is mediated; the scientist able to line up the barrel of her gun towards the ceiling.

Clara at last, fires her weapon towards the light fixtures; the single bullet fired shattering the bulbs. Fluttering among the falling shards of glass; a few tiny sparks erupt out from the bulbs socket; gently making their way down towards the tail of rotten vodka below. Though happy to see that her hypothesis proved correct, the scientist soon realizes that her little plan had baited the attention of everyone in the brewery. Both the terrorists and the Canadians halting their life and death outing all at once to gaze upon their unexpected interruption. Clara herself stands completely idle; finding everyone’s eyes glued to her. In this frozen moment, she discovers the sparks closing in upon the trail of alcohol and swiftly ducks underneath the counter. As soon as the scientist moves do the Canadian forces race towards the bar; all too distracted to stop the bits of leftover electricity from landing within the puddle of vodka. The spark immediately ignites the streamlet of clear alcohol; the fire erupting swiftly trailing towards the discarded steel barrel. Right when the mounties rest their grips upon the bars marble do the flames creep inside the keg; detonating the scientist’s massive molotov in a blaze of glory. Concealed behind the safety of the bar, Clara is spared from the fiery wrath of her own machinations; feeling the counter tremble at her back from the force of the burst.

The storms raging fury calming, the crackle of flames are all that remain; not a single whisper stirs among them. Coming out from over the counter, she bares witness to the fruits of her scheme. The entire restaurant bathed in a sea of scorch marks with small, but countless flames lit among them. Along it all lied the bodies of the resistance and Canadian forces; burns and bits of steel scattered across their skin and armor. Holy crap, didn’t think that her little makeshift molotov would be this strong. Figured the worst it do is knock everyone onto their asses. Vodka in there must have been stronger than she anticipated. Guess that’s Russian alcohol for ya.

Snapping her out from her pondering be another quake; the entire tower trembling hard enough to make the scientist lose her balance. Tempting to fall upon the scorched tile, her hands catch the burnt edges of the bars surface; holding onto the marble until the tower calms down. Guess this place doesn’t have much time before it winds up as nothing but a pile of rubble and glass spread across the block. Better get a move on before she ends up among the wreckage. With no one left to stop her, she races out from the burnt remains of the restaurant to resume her climb.

[unfortunate-rp]

Congratulations, LIV! You have been accepted as your desired character, AVA COLEMAN. I especially loved in your app the amount of detail you went into the Anything Else section to show what makes Ava Ava. Please be sure to complete the steps listed on the NEW MEMBER CHECKLIST and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

Well, young lady, have you been good to your mother?

OOC        Your Name: Liv    Your Age: 21    Your Pronouns: She/Her    Time zone: EST    Activity Level: 5; I’m in grad school-enough said there. I can be on pretty reliably a bit each day though.      Tumblr account (for contact purposes): ooopsydaisy or thatparkinsongirl    (If applying for second character) Characters played: NA    (If applying for second character) Will you be able to handle a second character?: NA    How did you find us?: The lsrpg tag I think.    Triggers: None IC    Character you’re applying for: Ava Coleman    Why did you choose this character?: Before I even knew if Sybil’s wife would be a playable char I was fascinated with the idea of her. Right out of the gate, there’s so much potential for her. Ugh the angst, the character development, the mystery sh’s now caught up in.    Secondary character preference: Ruby Cohen! If I have time I’m apping her too.      A sample in character: The cats, Rosalind and Aslop, were crying in their carriers in the back seat and eventually Ava started too. With every mile, every turn she drove further and further from home; no, that wasn’t right, 667 Dark Avenue wasn’t home, not really. Home was Sybil. The truck was packed full of their life together, at least; every scrap of paper, every trinket, Ava didn’t dare get rid of anything or even place it in storage. Anything could be a clue, a message, an answer. She’d been around enough grieving families though by now to know that answers were a bandaid on a gaping wound and it was a gaping wound. Days after the funeral, but before the whispering of her own guilt began, Ava had woken in their bed to a noise in the kitchen, just the cats, but for a moment, sleep still clinging to her, it was any other morning, Sybil puttering around the kitchen as the coffee brewed. The car crash impact of realization, of remembrance, knocked the air out of her lungs, left her gasping alone in a bed for two, knees drawn up to her chest, trying to lessen the stomach deep pain. No one had ever explained to her how physical an emotional wound could hurt you. Pulling into the driveway of her new house, Ava tried to see it with Sybil’s eyes. It was charming enough with the view of the lake, butter yellow door, shutters, and creeping ivy. Some of that was detracted by the perpetual gray skies and the mist rolling in off the lake. It would’ve been a nice place to get away for a vacation but Sybil had always liked being in the city, in the bustle of things. Ava’s only instructions to the realtor had been for a small place out of the city, anything to get away from the whispers about her guilt. She’d have to endure it still at work, particularly where the motto was, it’s always the spouse, but at least here she was far enough from any neighbors. She slid out of the truck, grabbing the cat carriers first, Rosalind had finally settled down, having given in to her circumstances, but Aslop had switched from mournful meows to low hisses. Sybil had always joked about how each cat took after them. “We’re gonna be all right,” she murmured quietly to them, praying it wasn’t a lie. She shoved her way through the door, stopping just inside. It was so horrifically empty, bare walls, nothing but open space. The room opened straight to the living room, hard wood floors everywhere, and the kitchen tucked in the corner beyond her. At least here where Sybil had never been, she didn’t see phantoms of her everywhere-laughing over the stove as the pot of spaghetti boiled over everywhere, on the couch, cello laid out before her, carefully tending to the strings, at the desk in the study, poring over her commonplace book, a small wrinkle between her eyebrows. Ava wanted to cry, to just give into the sadness. Instead she knelt down carefully and opened up both of the cat carriers, letting them both slink off to explore. One box by one, she dragged everything in, leaving them all in haphazard stacks against the wall. She’d carefully labeled each and every box to ensure the smoothest unpacking but even still, it would be a long process. The boxes with Sybil’s name on them glared back at her. The only piece of furniture she bothered with for now was the disassembled bed, the wooden slats deposited in the one bedroom and the mattress on the floor in the living room until she could find the energy to get it down the hallway. Collapsing onto it, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Her heart ached for home, fruitlessly, uselessly. Eventually, as day faded away around her, the room growing dark, she felt the pressure of small cat paws against her chest. Eyes still on the ceiling, she reached a blind hand out, expecting to meet Rosalind’s furry head; instead, it was Aslop, and her one nub of an ear. Aslop had always been the more independent of the two cats, always exploring, sneaking outside even sometimes. And yet, here in an exciting new place, she curled up  on Ava’s chest and started purring loudly. Ava let out a shaky breath, loud in the silence.    What headcanons or plans do you have for this character? (Please take any current plotdrops into consideration):

Mostly just vague ideas at the moment. I feel like the direction I go will have a lot to do with her interactions with other people and with the development of the plot. That said, in my mind Ava’s always been one of the more background members of VFD, she joined late, she’s more into research than fighting on the front lines. Poor girl’s asthmatic and petrified of planes and quite simply not that type of person. BUT, god is she desperate to know what happened to Sybil, I think it’ll be very interesting for this desperation to push her outside of her comfort zone, to slide more into the action. OR alternatively, again a lot of this hinges on where the plot goes, I love a good moral quandary, Ava either making a fishy, not great deal with a firestarter for information or even her finding something out in her investigation that makes her doubt the holy mission of the volunteers (particularly since many of them even ones she considered friends doubt her innocence). I think her connection with Adam will be very interesting to explore. His doubt in her, their workplace relationship, his lack of knowledge about VFD. Super excited. Her and Lauren’s connection should be super fun as well. Nothing like a good arch nemesis plot. I kind of can’t wait.    Do you want any additional connections for your desired character that you’d like us to add to their bio?: I didn’t see either of them in any of the characters and I don’t know if you had something planned for them down the line but I’m very interested in Ava’s sister in laws, Clara and Isabella. I think it would be nice and heartwrenching for her to still have a family of sorts even after Sybil’s death. I mean plus they both just sounded super interesting.

   Anything else?:  A few valuable, factual details,   Ava, a young girl, curled in the old green armchair in the sitting room of her grandmother’s house.The heavy book in her lap was too old for her and boring moreover but it was a better alternative to staring out the window, watching, waiting for two people who wouldn’t be coming back (Ava had known it was the last time during the last time her parents came, she could feel it in the air, in the lingering kiss to her forehead her mother bestowed, her father tucking her in that night. Every movement whispered goodbye. It was a good thing she had this experience-it meant she knew how to recognize nonverbal goodbyes.). In a month’s time, Grammy Ellie would take pity on her and make the trek up to the attic to bring down her daughter’s, Ava’s mother, childhood book collection. She never could stop watching though. Wanting. It didn’t take long for her to read every book of her mother’s twice over. The library two streets down from Grammy’s was a small affair, homey, with not enough shelves for all their books. It was love at first sight. If she wasn’t home, she was guaranteed to be there. She didn’t play at the playground like the other children, didn’t run and scream up down the street. She was largely alone as a child; no one else understood her and she didn’t understand them. They had no interest in anatomy and chemistry and constellations, didn’t want to listen to her excited explanation of what black plague did to the body. It was okay; she didn’t even know she was lonely (that would come later). Primary school was merely a series of disappointments. Medical school might have been as well if not for that fateful taxi drive. The VFD was full of people just like her, full of that gnawing yearning for knowledge, for importance, for saving the world. It was a group of people who had as children all been told at one point or another to tone down their excitement about something. She made her first real friends there, her family (she discovered just how lonely she’d been all along). Friends she was desperate to protect in any way that mattered; for her that was using her medical skills to patch up the members of the VFD risking their lives on the front lines. A year after joining, she’d graduated from med school as an internist. Having a purpose among her family filled her with joy. Ava was often called into headquarters to patch someone up, small burns and other minor wounds mostly. That was until the panicked, late night phone call from one of her friends. Ava rushed across town her heart beating in her throat, hearing the words, poison, oh god, Ava, what do I do, I can’t lose him, over and over. She got there just in time, just in time to watch him die. She was still performing fruitless CPR, his wife sobbing on their kitchen floor, when the ambulance arrived. It would not be the last death. Going back to school for a residency and then fellowship in forensic pathology was an easy decision for her. If she couldn’t save her friends’ lives then she would do her best to respect and speak for them after death. Sybil had once asked how she could possibly bare it and Ava, unsure herself sometimes, had told her that she saw it as being a translator of sorts, passing on the last words of the dead to the family. Sybil, staring back at her, leaned up and kissed her forehead and it felt so much like a goodbye that Ava had whispered, please don’t put me through that (she would, of course, and there was a part of both of them that knew Sybil would). Sybil Holloway was a tornado carving a line of destruction through her from the first moment to the very last. She was Ava’s first everything, first friend, first kiss, first date, first time, first love. From the very moment Ava laid eyes on her, Sybil at a party, playing her cello for a small group, the music bleeding out of Sybil like a tide, she knew Sybil was special. They were as many people told them a disgusting couple, eyes following each other, soft touches, easy companionship, trust, support. Understanding. That, more than anything else was what Ava thought people were searching for, understanding, to hear an answering echo of your own spirit in someone else. Even so, it wasn’t a perfect relationship, no that would require perfect people and neither Ava or Sybil were that. Sybil never hesitated from taking on dangerous work for the VFD, dangerous, secretive work. Whispered conversations, late nights poring over notes she didn’t share, and sudden trips she claimed were just for searching out antiques. Ava knew this wasn’t the full truth and though she wanted to give Sybil her privacy she was terrified too—so many of their friends had died lately.

They fought over it occasionally when Ava’s worry became too much. Sybil accused of her of not trusting her, of acting like Sybil was just never going to come back one day just like her parents. No one could hurt you quite like someone who knew you well. They fought about it publicly at a small VFD gathering a week before the fundraiser and though they later made up at home that night, Ava knew that fight was still ringing in people’s ears as they looked at Sybil’s vacant fragile dead body sprawled on the sidewalk.

[sidchan]

Never (first installment)

To preface this, this is a rough draft of a novel I started years ago and decided to reboot. Keep in mind it's a veryyyy rough draft. With that in mind enjoy. I will publish as inspiration hits. This is Never.

Awakening

Steam rose from the fresh wound. Something about this was making my breathing quicken. Pressure in my gums rose. An anxious shiver shook down my spine. But above all I was thrilled. I shook as I got close enough to feel the heat rising from her skin. The coppery smell burned as I inhaled. With that every last shred of willpower I had disintegrated.

My mouth filled with the hot liquid. This is what I had craved o desperately but after the immediate rush all I could think was ‘what the fuck did I do to deserve this?’

………………………..

You never really know how long you have left. But most people but most people are not lying on their deathbed at seventeen. Most mothers are not asking their son what they want their last meal to be and all I can think of are the things I haven’t tasted. At seventeen you think you have things planned out. You think you know about the world and you are invincible. I can tell you there are many things I have not figured out and so many plans I am leaving uncompleted. Every muscle of my body is crying out to be used again before I pass on. Every neuron of my brain longing to think another thought. I regret leaving school not toughing it out and just submitting to the doctors’ prodding. I wish I could have done so many more things. I wish I would have met my dad. I long to meet the children I would have one day fathered and their beautiful mother. I don’t want to leave my mom a single woman with my little brother and no other source of income. There’s so much left to do and here I am a semi-bionic boy with IVs running in and out of me. Monitors with my oxygen levels and blood pressure reminding me how shitty my heart really is. My eyelids are heavy but my mind is left here awake and working. I am scared I will be conscious until the very end. This leaves me to wallow in my solitude a bit deeper.

“Aaron?” a small voice behind the door calls accompanied by a gentle knock.

“Come in.”

Clara, my favorite nurse approaches with her warm smile.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds still keeping you out of pain?”

“So far so good” I manage to get out in a raspy voice.

She continues by taking my vitals with pursed lips and silence. She knows better than to try using small talk to distract me. She is younger than the other nurses and seems to understand this about me. For that I am grateful but I can’t help but notice her breasts as she stretches across me to get my pillow. I will die a virgin. It’s a funny yet sad thought. I’m not sure how to react considering there is no real cure to that.

“You’re blood pressure is still low, but you are feeling well today right?” she asks.

“I feel tired but fine overall.”

“Well enough for visitors?” she pauses, “I came to check your vitals to make sure you could handle it. Considering your condition I think visitors would be a good idea.”

I nod, ‘considering my condition’ meaning how close I am to dying right? Great.

“Good, I’ll send them in immediately.”

“Thanks, Clara.”

And away she went. She left in all her vivacious, vibrant beauty. She was a real woman who was genuine and able to light anyone up. She was well suited for her job. Her pixie cut brown hair was choppy in a quirky way. And her scrubs clung to her curves in the most appealing way but she walked around focused and unaware of this fact. For that, she was even cuter.

Moments passed, I wondered who was coming to visit and why was it taking so long. The drugs make me antsy. So I distracted myself with making up stories of pursuing Clara.

“Aaron, buddy, it’s been too long!” Damon raced in the room.

“Hey.” I tried to sit up better and not look so damn miserable.

Nina, Damon’s girlfriend trailed in but I almost missed her behind Damon’s massive build.

“Hey, Aaron” she smiled.

Damon ran up to my bed and patted me so hard I thought I might break. I shifted around some more to hide my pee bag by my blanket.

“Dude, we’ve been missing you like crazy. Senior year just isn’t right without you. We need someone to play forward for the team and you’re just stuck in here. This just isn’t gonna do.” I liked the way Damon spoke to me as if there was anyway I could still play soccer let alone get up and out of this bed. We both knew I couldn’t but I never told him about being on my way out. Damon is my best friend but he has a lot more going on that he should be worried about rather than my untimely demise. Something about Nina’s somber demeanor meant she had some idea of the severity. We’ve known each other since middle school but we’ve never been that close. We played as kids and she was my first crush but as time went on we had drifted apart until she and Damon got together which made me awkward third wheel and changed our whole relationship all together. Was she here to support me or was she here just because Damon was here? It’s hard to tell. Maybe both.

Damon uncomfortable in silence started up again, “Aaron what have they been feeding you man? You look like you’re on the survivor diet. You need some food? Hey, you know what I could sneak you some food up from the cafeteria or just anywhere? What are you craving?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure you’ve only had nasty hospital food.”

I glared down at my IV that has been feeding me for these past few days, “You know what food does sound pretty nice. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Just bring me some of whatever you get.”

“Oh! Sure, I’ll go get you something hearty like a burger, get some meat on those bones you know what I mean? Okay well I’ll be right back guys.”

Nina remained. I couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe she really was here to just visit me. After all of high school and barely speaking to me and now here we were alone in a hospital. Me, most likely on my death bed and Nina a long since estranged childhood friend was here. I didn’t know how to react. She was so familiar yet there was nothing I could say, nothing I knew about her new life other than what Damon told me. So here we remained silent with my mind flashing through old memories of a Nina I once knew. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking...

My heart started doing the throbbing pains its been doing for weeks. My chest burned. Why now? I just want to live like everyone else. Again my chest grew tight. Now my lungs felt constricted. I just want to eat a meal with my friends. Is that really too much to ask for? I’m sick of IVs. I’m sick of this bed and the same view from the same window. I want to go home again. Palliative care was an option. But how much time do I have? What does it matter regardless of time I have a right to live regardless of my time I already got the short end of the stick. Another throb. Fuck. These are bad. I’m not calling the nurse I don’t want more drugs to erase my memories. Every last one is precious and I’m not giving any of them up. My breathing is getting worse, more shallow. I clenched my fists.

“Are you okay? You’re starting to sweat.” Nina approached the bedside.

“I’m fine.” I’m not.

“Aaron you’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m calling the nurse!”

Something in me snapped above all the pain. No. I was not facing more meds. I was not being sedated back into my half living state. If I am dying I will die with dignity. I would not succumb. I am done with being a human pin cushion. The rest of my life has to have something more to it. I can’t die this way, feeble and broken.

“NO!” a sudden shudder of strength came about me. Maybe this is the burst of endorphins right before death people have told me about. I throw my legs to the side of the bed. I am not dying in this hospital. Fuck that. The heart monitors began beeping faster and louder. Off went my IVs and every other contraption that held me down in that damn bed.

“Aaron?” Nina now stood next to me. “What are you doing?”

Another wave of energy surged through me.

“I-I can’t stay here!” I had no idea what I was going to do except run. Run with the time I still had left. My room fortunately enough was on the first floor. I opened the sliding window and jumped to the ground that was about three feet down. I landed on the balls of my feet and just continued running.