#this is further evidence to me that there’s needs to be some sort of horror fic or apocalypse fic set in the path

[crosbyism]

Feel like calling the Path mysterious gives it a bit of whimsy it doesn’t deserve. Words like tedious, dispiriting, swarming are more accurate; although, convenient, confusing and dangerous work sometimes too :)

Tourist wise it is pretty cool tbf

hey if the torontonians have discourse about toronto’s local cryptid environment is it called a concourse

[travelingtwentysomething]

✨Are you new here?✨

✨🌚)))))(✨Hailey on AO3✨)(((((🌝✨

🪩 Let's Be Honest, If You Could Hop Dimensions, You'd Save Eddie Munson Too (AO3 // REBLOG // My Art: Eddie in Disguise/Comparison) - A Steddie+Original NonBinary Time/Dimension Traveler Character Fix-It Comedy/Adventure

🌚 Devotion Tastes So Sweet On Your Lips (AO3 // REBLOG) - A Spooky Steddie Horror One-Shot (Maybe Series...) Steve Prays To The Old Gods And Eddie The Banished Answers

🕸️ A Sticky Situation (AO3 // REBLOG) - A Harringroveson x Spideypoolverine Crossover Comedy One-Shot +Inspo Post for A Sticky Situation

—+++—Some Bonus Tumblr Only Ficlets—+++—

+Steve Throws Eddie His Yellow Sweater, Eddie Throws Steve His Vest. It's a Whole Thing (It's Canon. Gone a bit Viral, this one🤘) (Further Evidence: Steve Puts on The Vest and Eddie Checks Out His Ass, Also Canon. + Bonus Canon: Every Time Eddie Puts On His Steve Smile)

+Eddie Realizes Steve Is More Than A Babysitter (w/ Inspo Post Steve Slays Demo-Bats, Eddie Reacts, this one has Gotten Popular, but I mainly attribute that to Steve's Titties 🤘)

+Stephanus Concubinus, Emperor Geta's Vita (a Steddie x Gladiator II au blurb inspired by kingsandsaints ' gorgeous painting of Joe Keery wearing laurels and a white sheet🕊️)

+Rockstar!Eddie, Meets Server Duo Stobin, is an Asshole and Gets His Just De'Soup- Later Eddie Comes Back to Apologize and Gets Steve's Number- Then, A Misunderstanding and a Proposal (I added onto the ficlets of two very talented writers sabbathbloddysabbeth and estrellami-1 with romantic ramblings at 5am, blurbs become ficlets🤘)

+Rockstar!Eddie in a Case of Mistaken Identity Gets Dragged to Dustin's 21st "Rockstar Hotel After Party" Themed Birthday by an Oblivious Steve +Bonus Robin Has Something To Say About That (inspired by Whathehonestfuk's post🤘)

+Rogueddie Famous!Steddie, Eddie Reads Tumblr RPF of Steve, Steve Gives a Rec (Rogueddie Wrote A Blurb, I Wrote A Blurb)

+Steve is afraid to scare Eddie away by treating him 'like a girl' (flowers, gifts, affection, etc.), Eddie is frustrated thinking Steve just can't bring himself to cuddle him because he's a guy. (Until Eddie opens Steve's closet and a mountain of dead and drying bouquets and boxes fall all around him.)

+Steddie!Little Mermaid AU Blurb-let (It started with a whisper- *Steve Herrington* and ended when Prince Eddie kissed he- er, uh, no wait- that's actually Henry the Sea Witch with Prince Steve's stolen voice... Violence and Magic and A Happily Ever After, Oh My!)

+Eddie Doesn't Give A Fuck About Sleep Paralysis Demon Steve (a bit personal, turned into a Steddie prompt)

📜A Tale in Gifs🍿

—++++—Stories Told in a Montage of Gifs—++++—

+Steve Definitely Doesn't Have A Type: A Steddie Tale in Gifs (+Because I Can't Leave Well Enough Alone, Emotional Damage) (Learned how to make gifs for this post lol took me hours give it some love, my first sort of popular post🤘)

+Eddie Munson the Lunchtime Menace... He Does All His Best Menacing at Tables: A Tale in Gifs (A Montage of Eddie Being Menacingly Innocent 😇👀)

+Steve: If He Fuck Me Good I'll Take His Ass To Red Lobster / Steddie Version / Metal Sandwich Version (🍨⛵🦞)

+The First Time Little Eddie Munson With The Buzzed Hair Gets Called A F*reak, He Is Too Stunned To Speak (Literally, just a sentence ✨with gifs✨ but now I need 100k words, on my desk by Monday morning. Prompto.)

✨everything else you need to know under the cut✨

🪩My Original Posts🪩

#op

+My Singular Piece of Art (Eddie in Disguise/Comparison)

+Jack Whitehall Incorrect Quote/Shipping Gays is the Glue That Holds Fandom Together🤘

+Harry Styles Raps to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun Video (if you've never seen this, you're not fully realizing your potential)

+Joe Quinn is Dating Doja Cat? (It only took me a couple minutes to make this gif, skill issue defeated)

+Someone Asked Me "Favorite word?" And I Am A Comedian, So I Said- (you won't regret clicking on this one, here's your first clue that I am hilarious.)

+My Theory on Why Hollywood (And Men™) Thinks All Women Over 30 Are Witches (added to this already hilarious post about the Disney Movie Freaky Friday, your second clue that I am actually the funniest person you don't even know)

🪩Gems You Missed🪩

+ I just realized I caught the GHOST in my haunted house on video 🫥👀💀

+My Spooky Chicky Sammie Rizz 👻 Spooky Movie Night Rizz 🔮 Spooky Mocktails Rizz 🌝 (Have I seduced you yet?)

+A Break-up Cake Commissioned By Me From The WM Bakery: Mario Kart - "Welcome Back To The Streets" (If We Are Friends, This Is The Kind Of Moves You Can Expect From Me)

+15 Minute Roast Beef and Potato Soup (I make up easy recipes sometimes, ask me about my rotisserie chicken enchiladas with cilantro lime sour cream sauce)

+My Halloween Tree and Blockbuster Wall (About 4,000 DVDs lit up by my Halloween Tree, it's a Spooky Vibe, ask me for a Movie Rec... When I die I'm fixin to haunt the Criterion Closet👻)

+🍯My Dog Honey Watches Scooby Doo / Honey Cuddles Then and Now / Honey Plays Then and Now 🍬 / Honey's Pug-pies: Scooby, Momo, Pickle, and Ponyo

+My 2010 1D Tumblr Origin Story (🤣The true story of how I ended up on Tumblr)

+My Ridiculous Laptop Sticker Collection (feat. Some Steddie Stickers from Raynecreates)

+I'm Allergic to Cats, But I Would Get A Blue Russian to Name Them Comrade, Nickname: Commie (Big Brain Name Game™, Give me some credit and reblog this post🐈‍⬛)

+My High Thoughts About Pyramids (Higher Thoughts💭)

+My Epitaph (My Personal Philosophy, It's A Banger™)

👇Check the #Tags below to narrow down the fun👇

(I go a lil ham with the tags, trying to be thorough, so I'm a safe blog if you utilize tag blocking, search my blog for any of your own interests, you'll most likely strike gold 😂 give it a try if you're curious, or scroll on down and click on a tag)

I RECOMMEND:

#op - posts that I created or I contributed a significant comment to

#personal - if you're trying to see more than just fandom- really get to know me 🥹 also #is it me, #tism, #tis me

#trauma dump and #dream journal - the drama, the tea, the weird dreams that are so ridiculous I had to tell someone, even if it is just shouting it into the void to hear the echo, basically over sharing

#interest - anything that is of interest to me, stuff like #therapy, #linguistics, #anthropology, #sociology, #psychology, #archeology, #movies, #film theory, #politics, basically anything that interests me outside pretty people and shows

#my recipes - I occasionally make up something easy peasy, you like cooking quick churched-up struggle meals?

#thoughts - my own comments/thoughts or posts that made me think, try #high thoughts, #higher thoughts

#comedy - anything that made me #lol

#writing - my own fics and posts I actually contributed commentary to or a lil blurb, or writing inspo and prompts I am interested in, as well as writing resources, tips, etc. #fic prompt

#steddie - probably my most common tag I love them but there's a plethora of tags #steddie art, #steddie fic, #steddie comic

#pretty - it's the boys and the girls and the #aesthetic stuff too

#boys - any of the pretty boys I like to reblog

#femme fatale - pretty girls, alternately #laissez faire

#smile - if you wanna smile, I heard they're contagious and this tag has some beautiful smiles 😁 and a few things guaranteed to bring joy

#spooky - It's #spooky season baby and #halloween is in my veins. We got #spooky art, #house hunting, #halloween decorations, and best of all #spooky steddie

🤌Like this post and I will definitely follow you (*except minors soz)👀

✨REBLOG✨ and we will be ✨MUTUALS✨

[skeletboi]

Part 18 of the Intridimensional Au!

TW FOR BLOOD!

First /// Previous /// Next

__________________________________________

Fiddleford watched as the portal closed in front of him, and could swear he felt his heart stop.

“So nice of you to visit, Fordsy! Although, I would have preferred if you had actually followed my directions and opened the portal for me.” Bill said from somewhere behind him. “At least you kept it up and running. It'll be easy to find another pawn to open it for me now that it's complete!”

Fiddleford looked back towards the voice and instantly regretted it. There, sitting on a floating throne in the middle of what looked like some sort of asteroid field, was the one-eyed triangle being from the tapestries hanging around Ford's study.

“A pawn… Bill- I thought-” Ford started to say, but was cut off by Bill's laughter.

“Don't get me wrong, Fordsy, I do like you much more than the other human pawns I've used over the centuries! Although, I am upset that you didn't listen to me when I told you to keep Lesser Twin away from the portal! We could have ruled the galaxy together, Fordsy!” Bill said, his eye narrowed in anger, but his voice cheerful as ever.

“I- I didn't want that, Bill. I just wanted to further my research!” Ford said, hurt and fear evident in the shakiness of his voice. “I never wanted to hurt anyone!”

“HAH! Keep lying to yourself, Ford! I've been in your brain! I know what you want!” Bill responded, seeming genuinely delighted.

“Inside your brain?!” Fiddleford said, then clamped his hands over his mouth as Bill turned to him.

“Example A!” Bill said, his arm elongating to reach Fiddleford without ever leaving his throne. “Fiddlesticks here!” He said, dangling Fiddleford by his arm like a ragdoll. “You’re always thinking about how much you care about him, but you didn't even flinch when he told you he replaced part of his arm with a machine after he broke it on an adventure with you!”

“He did what?!” Stan said, finally speaking up. “Ford, what the fuck?!”

“I- that- that wasn't up to me! I was just interested in the mechanics! Of course I cared about him being hurt!” Ford said, looking frantically between Bill, Fiddleford, and Stan.

“Right, hah! You don't have to lie to me, Sixer. You and I are the same- we care about what people can do for us, not what we can do for them! Isn't that why you left him after college and waited until you needed him again to call?!”

“NO! No! I was just distracted with my research!” Ford yelled.

“I always thought he was pointless, anyway!” Bill said, holding Fiddleford up in front of his eye. “You definitely don't need him now! But don't worry, I can get rid of him for us!” Bill said, then squeezed his fingers together, crushing Fiddleford's arm.

Fiddleford screamed as he heard metal crunch and bones crack.

“FIDDLEFORD!” Stan and Ford both screamed behind him, but he could barely hear them over the blood rushing in his ears. He watched as his lab coat turned red with blood and his vision blurred at the edges.

“Whoops! Broke your toy!” Bill laughed, carelessly tossing Fiddleford towards the twins. “That's what happens wheN YOU BREAK MINE!” He said, his voice distorting and growing louder as he spoke.

Fiddleford crashed into Ford, sending them both flying a hundred yards from where Stan was floating.

“NOW I GET TO BREAK THIS ONE, TOO!” Bill screamed, as he turned from yellow to red and tripled in size.

He reached a hand towards Stan, but Stan just barely dodged him.

“DON'T YOU TOY WITH ME, LESSER TWIN!” Bill yelled. “SIXER SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU IN THE WOMB!”

Fiddleford and Ford watched in horror as Bill caught Stan by his good leg, holding him up in front of his eye like a fish dangling on a line.

“Fuck you, you geometric asshole!” Stan yelled, then grabbed his knife from his peg leg and jammed it as hard as he could into Bill's eye.

“Not the eye!” Bill screamed, letting go of Stan as he covered his face with his hands.

Stan used the distraction to get away, kicking off a piece of asteroid and making it, unharmed, to Ford and Fiddleford's side.

“Stan- I- I didn't know-” Ford stuttered, his arms wrapped around an unconscious and bloody Fiddleford.

“Not now, Sixer, we have to get out of here!” Stan said, glancing back at Bill.

Ford nodded and looked around. “The larger asteroids. We can hide in there for now.”

“Good plan, but let me carry Fidds.” Stan replied, holding out his arms.

Ford nodded again and passed Fiddleford over to Stan. “Now let's get out of here.”

They took off, jumping off of smaller rocks to make it to the main field in the distance.

“Here!” Ford whisper-shouted when he spotted a cave within one of the asteroids.

Stan followed after him and breathed a sigh of relief as he set foot on the solid ground. Ford glanced around as Stan carefully set Fiddleford down.

“This looks like it goes pretty deep, but we should be fine here for a bit.” Ford said, kneeling down next to Stan to get a better look at Fiddleford.

Stan nodded as he took out his knife and started to cut the sleeve of Fiddleford's shirt. He grimaced at the mass of gore that used to be Fiddleford's arm.

“There is not much left to work with, and I'm sure he'll wake up soon. We might have to…” Stan couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Amputate.” Ford finished for him.

Stan nodded.

“I'll do it. This is my fault, afterall. He may never forgive me, but at least I can help here.” Ford said quietly, taking the knife from Stan.

“You got conned, Ford. He'll forgive you.” Stan replied quietly.

Ford smiled weakly at Stan, turned to Fiddleford, and held up the knife.

“Woah there, stranger!” Someone said from further in the cave.

They both jumped and looked into the darkness as a hooded figure emerged.

“Don't worry, I am a refugee, too, but I have a better tool for that.” The figure said.

“A refugee?” Ford asked.

“In the Nightmare Realm. You're from another dimension, yes? We have been hiding from the Euclidean, too.” They said.

“Euc-a-what-now?” Stan asked.

“Bill. The Euclidean. We could hear him speak to you, and we can help. We should help your friend there, first, though.” They explained.

Stan and Ford glanced at each other then back at the hooded figure, and nodded.

The figure approached and pulled a knife from under their cloak. They knelt down on the other side of Fiddleford and hit a button on the knife that made it hum and glow a bright purple.

“It's a plasma knife.” The figure said. “It will cut and cauterize at the same time, but hold them down- I wouldn't want them to move and cut more than necessary.”

Stan and Ford nodded and held Fiddleford down.

“I'm sorry, Fidds.” Ford mumbled as the figure lowered the knife.

“On three.” they said. “One, two, three.”

The knife hissed and burned as it cut clean through flesh and bone. Fiddleford's eyes shot open and he screamed, looking up at Ford as he tried to pull away from the pain.

“I'm so sorry, Fiddleford.” Ford said again, tears streaming down his face as he let up on his grip so Fiddleford could move.

“It's done.” The figure said.

Fiddleford looked over at the figure and screamed again, shooting up and backing away until his back was flush against Ford’s chest.

“It's okay, Fidds. They were helping us.” Ford said, wrapping his arms around Fiddleford to try and calm him down.

Ford felt Fiddleford relax at his touch, but it only lasted a second before he realized his arm was missing.

“What in the fiddle-hoppin’ heck did y'all do?!” He screeched.

“Fidds, we had no choice- Bill crushed your arm.” Stan said.

“He-” Fiddleford said, then his breath hitched, and didn't stop. He started to hyperventilate and Ford held him tighter.

“I'm so sorry, Fidds. I'll fix this.” he mumbled into Fiddleford's hair. “I'll stop him, and I'll fix this. I- I- I'll kill Bill. He won't win.”

“We'll kill him.” Stan said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's leg.

Fiddleford’s breathing started to slow as he dug his fingers into the arm Ford had around him.

“I'm going to need an arm.” he said quietly between breaths.

“We can help.” The cloaked figure said. “Come. We can give you what you need to start your journey.”

_____________________________________________

This is not written well. Ignore that.

Might do more badly drawn comics from here on out since it's less serious plot, but there will definitely still be more written chapters.

I start my new job in like... 10 minutes... so expect less frequent updates. But there will be updates!

Also I know Fiddleford got over that panic attack hella fast... but he gets a bit more ooc from here on out because he realizes the only way to save the dimension his son still resides in is to fight back, and he knows he can help.

Anyways. Enjoy, I guess!

[envihellbender]

Haddie giving a statement directly to Jonathan Sims Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London about the Overlap and the Ravages. Maybe she plugs her podcast

Fandom: The Magnus Archives / Dead By Daylight

Characters: Jonathan Sims, Haddie Kaur

Content: Horror, fractures in time and space

Summary: A statement regarding Haddie Kaur’s experiences with the Overlap and the Ravage.

—

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

I know it’s a bit dated but we find that these sorts of statements transfer better onto tape recorder.

HADDIE

Retro. Like it. Gives it a nice lo-fi feel I bet.

ARCHIVIST

I’m… yes, well, anyway-

HADDIE

I mean I get it, sometimes our equipment goes haywire when we’re getting close to an Overlap. Must be a similar deal. Maybe you guys are legit.

ARCHIVIST

Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Anyway, shall we begin.

HADDIE

Yeah, yeah, right. So, where do I start? Do I just jump in or…?

ARCHIVIST

I usually start with the name, date, and what the statement is regarding. Would you like some privacy or-

HADDIE

I reeeeally would prefer you stayed. When I talk about this things get hazy. I’m gonna need something to ground me.

ARCHIVIST

Okay, whatever you like.

HADDIE

I’m Haddie Kaur, this is a statement regarding my research into buildings that are prone to what I’ve come to know as the ‘Overlaps’ and specifically what I call ‘the Ravage.’ It’s the 21st of April 2019.

Probably makes more sense if I give a bit of background. When I was twelve my parents died in a car accident, I had a great childhood up until then, and afterwards I had a pretty loving adoptive family. Despite that, every single psychiatrist I was sent to said that I developed some trauma that resulted in my first experiences with the Overlaps. I believed that for a while too but I actually have video evidence that they are not simply in my head. I left them with the guy I spoke to. Heavy guy, soft spoken…

ARCHIVIST

Martin. Yes, thank you.

HADDIE

Anyway, I mean, the deaths definitely fucked me up. See this white bit in my hair? Not a personal choice. Happened the morning after. Extreme stress, they said. But like I said, this isn’t just that. I mean there are cases of similar things happening to those with extreme trauma but… Whatever, I’ll get to what the Overlaps actually are, yeah? So, I think the best way to explain it is to talk about what I’ve seen. I went to a haunted asylum in Quebec with my brother Jordan, and as soon as I got there I started to feel things. It’s actually what one of the recordings is, I feel the electric static first - sort of humming in my fingers - and then the fog starts appearing. It’s like… I see the Overlaps between worlds. I see rooms but one section will be as it is now - decayed, rotten, falling apart - another will be just as it was when it was brand new. Paint isn’t even chipped, doctors and patients are walking around. Then another was just… before it got taken down, the patients screaming, suffering - the doctors being assholes. It’s a lot. It’s pretty overwhelming. I can sort of see it here actually. When I was at reception I saw a room filled with computers, two girls and a guy just chatting and drinking coffee. And further down the hall, I saw this really really tall blond guy looking through files. Only reason I knew it was an Overlap was because the wall behind him was in slightly better condition. Little cleaner. Weird, right?

I know it sounds insane, I can see the skepticism all over your face and I’ve heard it all before. Just try and keep an open mind until you see the vids, yeah? Hey, even if you don’t, can’t say I didn’t try, right? Honestly, this stuff doesn’t quite bother me so much any more but it’s kinda… Difficult sometimes. No, the bit I really want to talk about is the Ravages. Because. I saw it again. I didn’t originally come here to make a statement, I was using the library in the institute upstairs and I saw it. Knew I had to come down and talk to you about it.

So sometimes during the Overlaps I see something a bit more… Empty than the others. I mean I don’t know but my hypothesis prior to doing the research is that it is what is underneath the Overlaps. It’s like you’re knitting a blanket and if you pick out some of the threads what pokes out is the table underneath. It feels to me like the Ravage, or Ravages I guess, are like the table. Normally, it’s like… It’s intense. It feels like the drain in which all human misery ends up creating a mosaic every crumb of suffering that we’ve ever experienced. It’s pretty fucking horrific. Seeing that. It’s like tears in reality showing me a deep, dark fog with screams and faces appearing and disappearing. It’s like the Overlaps I guess, but it’s repeated and crowded so it’s unclear, and it’s all miserable. The Overlaps could be anything.

Anyway, I saw that upstairs in the library. Except it looked… different. For one thing there weren’t faces, just eyes. Lots of fucking eyeballs not even in heads or sockets just there staring at me en masse. I tried walking up and down and they followed me around. I actually managed to reach in and look around, and I saw an older guy, a few spirals and doors, screaming, an old woman, and erm… Okay, so this is gonna seem like I’m fucking with you but I think I saw you there? I mean, or someone who looked like you. I’m not super invested in the idea it was just what I saw don’t look so freaked. Jesus. Anyway, and a lot of fucking spiders. So many spiders. Fucking weird. They were all taken by fog and these giant spider like tendrils. It was just… Sad. It was- it’s like the worst. And. Yeah. I guess that’s me done. Statement over. Haddie out, I guess.

ARCHIVIST

Thank you. That was… curious.

HADDIE

You don’t have to believe me, buddy, don’t look so freaked.

ARCHIVIST

Yes well, if I believe you or not isn’t really that relevant. We will investigate, take a look at the evidence you gave us and take a look. Erm, Ms Kaur, before you go. Does… does the name Jurgen Leitner mean anything to you?

HADDIE

You mean the book guy?

ARCHIVIST

Yes. Yes, do you- have you any experience-

HADDIE

Every now and then we find a book with the Jurgen Leitner thing in the cover, we thought they might be causing it. Then we met Gerry and he collects them and … Yeah. So we help him out and he does… I dunno. Whatever with them. That’s all I know. Guess you gotta find Gerry if you wanna know more?

ARCHIVIST

Yes. I suppose I will.

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Researching Ms Kaur’s statement was all made that much simpler by the sheer amount of evidence she left us. It seems she is quite educated and doesn’t make any claims without thorough investigation. An external hard drive filled with files - videos and photographs of the Overlaps and the Ravages make it difficult to argue with. As well as long list of addresses for every single place they have been seen. Personally I’m not particularly well versed with technology but I still think they could have been faked like most ghost videos are. Tim has a friend who’s rather experienced with this sort of thing and he says they’ll take a look. Hopefully that will be the end of it. Particularly as the only other witnesses to these events are her own brother, and the supposed event upstairs was witnessed by no one. We checked the CCTV and annoyingly the feed cut out the moment Ms Kaur entered the library. I’m sure that is a coincidence however, this building is falling apart.

But there’s one thing I can’t quite get my head around. Well, alongside the fact Ms Kaur seems like an intelligent, together woman. It seems Ms Kaur knows Gerard Keay. And her experiences with Leitners may explain a great deal. She seems so… calm about the whole thing. It’s eerily different to my experience with those who’ve been effected by Leitners. Well, we’ll see what our evidence brings us, won’t we?

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[mycenalucentipes]

Ghosts || Draco Malfoy x Reader - Part 2

summary: Although your tragic ending lead you to being a ghost of Hogwarts, you managed to befriend Draco Malfoy. He would spill all of his secrets and worries to you. You would tell him little stories of you time alive. However, now that the Battle of Hogwarts is beginning, you have no idea what will happen to the two of you.

warnings: swearing, violence, war, explosions, mentions of death, rape, abuse, blood, ummm just lots of angst and sadness :)....

word count: 3,390

a/n: Idk how to summarize lol. I know I've title it as a Draco x Reader, but I don't really see them in a romantic sort of relationship? It would be too cruel to make them fall in love for each other I feel lol. There's going to a third part. I'm not sure how long though

Ghosts: Part 1

As Snape’s brisk footsteps echoed through the bathroom, you instinctively hid behind one of the stall doors, still a little afraid of the stern professor. When Snape entered, seeing your lifeless form, his gaze softened as he sighed and kneeled down for further inspection.

“That unfortunate girl,” he murmured with a deep tone before standing up again. 

“Professor Snape?” You poked your head around, slightly startling the potions master. 

“Ah, Miss L/n. You’re still around,” he replied, trying to play it off as if he wasn’t startled by your sudden appearance. “I offer my condolences for your… unfortunate fate. May I ask what happened? Mr. Malfoy merely informed me that a Gryffindor boy was responsible for a murdered girl.”

With a solemn nod and a pained expression, you mustered the courage to tell the horrors of your ex. “It was my ex, Evander Gallo, he strangled me to death. He was an abusive bastard that wouldn’t let me go. I’m not really sure why.” You left out some more of the explicit details, not wanting to fully share that with a professor. Perhaps you might’ve still been alive had you managed to alert a professor of the ongoing situation. Your ex never let you get by with anything, therefore deeming it impossible to try. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Why didn’t you alert a professor? Surely one of us could have helped. Such reprehensible actions would have warranted immediate expulsion.” Snape sighed again as you looked away, feeling ashamed all of a sudden.

You shook your head sadly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t. He had his eyes on me 24/7. Anything I did, word got back to him. I would’ve been dead much sooner had I told anyone.” Snape didn’t quite know what to say to this. 

“There’s no need to apologise. You did nothing wrong.” Snape spoke in a soft and apologetic tone, not meaning to make you feel ashamed of the situation. “Miss L/n. I will come by later with Professor McGonagall. Please tell her as much as you can about this boy. The more evidence we have, the easier it will be to expel him.” With that, he gently levitated your body, taking it elsewhere for proper care. 

“Thank you professor!” You called out as he was halfway out the doors already. 

That evening, you spilled everything to Professor Snape and McGonagall. They stared back, horror in their eyes. How could they not have noticed? Your ex was incredible about not showing any signs of it in public. He kept you in his grasp for far too long that he left you without a fighting spirit. You were sobbing by the end of recounting your time alive with him. 

In the end, they both agreed expulsion was the best possible action. You felt as if a ton of bricks were lifted from your chest. You were so overjoyed that there were others willing to take your side and believe in you. You felt free. 

–==--==--==--==--==--==--==--

About a week later, late in the evening, Draco comes into the bathrooms, seeking your company. This time, he just wanted to catch up and hangout, an escape from the troubles going on in the school. 

“Oh! Hello, Draco. What brings you in at this hour?” You inquired, gracefully floating towards him from your perch on the mirrors. 

He offered a slight smile. “I figured I would come in and check on you.” You felt warmed at this action. He actually wanted to come back and talk to you! You smiled brightly at him and he felt his own heart swell with warmth at your cheerfulness. It was the first genuine, happy smile that decorated your face. Given your first meeting circumstances though, it made sense. 

“Thank you for alerting Professor Snape last time. He and McGonagall came and helped deal with my circumstances. They were so supportive, McGonagall especially. Now he’s expelled!” You cheered excitedly. “I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest. I would hug you if I could, haha.” Draco softly chuckled back.

“That’s good to hear, Y/n. I’m glad that prick won’t be around anymore. He really was a wretched git, wasn’t he? Figured he was just another annoying Gryffindor.” Draco smiled back at you, “When they announced his expulsion, the loudest cheers actually came from the Gryffindor table… I wish… others would have spoken up for you.” He added with a hint of disappointment. 

You gave a sympathetic look this time.

“I assume he was probably a prick to the other students, but he kept the abusive, predator side out of the public eye and only with me…So there really was no hard evidence for his expulsion.” You sighed. You seem to be sighing a lot, maybe one day you wouldn’t.

“I just wish it didn’t take the death of you for him to get expelled.” Draco mournfully replied back. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright now, we can’t change the past events. We’ll try to move on from here I suppose.” You said, trying to change the tone of the conversation. Of course, you would take a while to heal from 5 long years of torture, but this week was a joyous one for you. “So, what’s been up with you?”  

“Not much different from the same situations,” Draco hummed, reluctant to sour the mood again with problems you both already knew about. 

During Draco’s time spent with you, he talked freely and without hesitance. He would trust you until the end of his time. He quickly learned how you loved talking about the candies from Honeydukes and the feasts served in the Great Hall for holidays, usually the desserts. You certainly had a sweet tooth. You expressed with bittersweetness that you would miss being able to taste the sweet flavours of Honeydukes’ treats. 

He loved hearing you talk and ramble about the small joys you had managed to find out of life. It was like a breath of fresh air for him. He asked if you had ever been able to travel before. You excitedly described your time on the east coast of Ireland. 

You talked of how dawn’s sunrise kissed the water, offering it a soft hue of pinks, oranges, and golds. Wisps of scattered clouds brushed the horizon with gentle shades of blush and apricot. Then there lie the tranquil rolling hills and the verdant valleys. The rays of sunlight gave the emerald green vegetation a soft, golden glow. The luscious grass swayed gently with the ocean breeze, glistening as the dew clung to the blades. 

You whispered that it was the only family vacation you had been on, but it was one of the most beautiful places. You wished to go back there someday. 

In exchange, Draco would tell you of his family's travels. They had been all over England mostly. You loved hearing his stories and was always astonished at how much money really could buy you. You asked him about his favourite foods from each place he visited. Then asked about their pastries and candies. You would then sigh saying how you wished you could drink a nice warm butterbeer. 

Another time he visited,he inquired about your time alive at Hogwarts, but not pushing for you to tell about your ex. You still had at least a few fond memories. 

Most of your favourite times were the times you spent alone, enjoying the little beauties the castle had to offer. You often roamed the halls in the early morning, brushing your fingers across the old stone walls, watching the sunrise seep through the windows and getting lost in your own thoughts. The mornings before breakfast were always peaceful. Very seldom did students wander around that early, opting to stay cosy in bed longer. 

You also spoke of how you loved sitting out by the Black Lake while reading a good book. The wind would gently blow against your face and the sun kissed your cheeks. Sitting in the soft grass, you would imagine your life as if it were going how you wanted. Or would make up your own fantasy scenarios that would put a small smile on your lips. It was your form of escapism. It was the only coping mechanism you knew would make life just a little more bearable.

In the middle of reminiscing, Draco interrupted with an abrupt question. 

“Are you able to move on? Um– I mean, from the ghost life?” 

You sadly shook your head. “I don’t think so. I did not think that I chose this life, but before I knew it, I woke up here, staring at my dead body.” You sighed quietly and huffed with slight amusement. “Though, if I could leave, I would definitely move on. I don’t want to be a bitter ghost here forever like Myrtle.” 

Draco was unsure if it were an appropriate time to be chuckling, but nodded along anyway. “If I find a way to send you off, I will make sure to come back and release you.” He offered a small smile. You looked to Draco knowing these chances were slim to none (he knew as well), but still comforted by his words nonetheless. 

“Thank you, Draco. That means so, so much to me.” 

–==--==--==--==--==--==--==--

The last time during that school year that Draco visited the bathrooms, he was in a panic. Just like the first time you met him. (This time, no new dead body to greet him). He briskly walked over to the sinks, breath heavy, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

He stared into the mirror for what felt like seconds, he felt like a serpent was constricting his chest. Ripping his sweater over his head, he threw it to the side, not caring where it landed. By now, you had wandered out from a cubicle, wondering if it was Draco again. 

“Draco?” You called out with a wobbly voice, “What’s wrong, Draco?” You asked in a clearer voice this time. He wouldn’t respond to you. He rubbed his forearm hard against his tears before bringing it back down to the sink. He gripped the edge of the sink so tightly, his knuckles turning white. 

Just then, you hear more footsteps slowly approaching. In the mirror, you could see that the approaching figure was Harry Potter.  Draco didn’t notice as sobs wracked his frame.

“I know what you did, Malfoy…” Harry said in a low tone, “you hexed her, didn’t you?”

Draco’s head shot up and snapped towards the source of the voice. His eyes were frantic and fearful for a second before turning angry.

Before you knew it, Draco quickly drew his wand, firing off a wordless spell. You gasped in horror, not wanting anyone to duel and get hurt or worse. Harry managed to dodge the spell, only to throw one right back at Draco. He also managed to dodge the spell, running towards the cubicles. Harry followed suit. 

You let out a cry of fear, wanting to help, but feeling so useless. You were but a ghost, you couldn’t really do anything, couldn’t protect either of them. Spells kept getting thrown back and forth. Water was bursting from the now broken pipes. 

“Sectumsempra!” You watched in horror as Harry landed a hit on Draco. Without thinking, you tried to step in the way of the spell. Though it hit you, it still went right through your misty form, sending Draco flying back. You winced at the sight of a spell being thrown at you, but only for a split second as you heard Draco’s body hit the ground.

Fearing the worst, you made a dash to go find the nearest professor should anything happen. Professor Snape happened to be heading in the direction where the duel happened. 

“Professor! Please, I need help! Draco and Harry, they– he–, in the bathrooms, please help!” You frantically cried out, so panicked that forming sentences was difficult. Only short bursts of panicked words fumbled out of your mouth. Snape understood though. His pace sped up as he took longer, quicker strides to reach the bathrooms. 

Frantic sobs escaped your lips as you watched the blood pour from Draco’s body, a pained expression painted across his face. Harry stood there, just staring at the scene unfolding. Snape rushed to Draco’s side, kneeling down and whispering the counter spell. 

As his low voice chanted vulnera sanentur, the blood that once marbled the water on the bathroom floor began returning to the cuts on Draco’s body. Draco’s whimpers and groans of pain soon quieted as he fell into unconsciousness. 

“Ms. L/n, I will be taking Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing now,” Snape muttered while carefully lifting Draco’s unconscious form. You quietly thanked him as he walked out of the bathrooms. 

With a blank stare, you perched yourself atop one of the sinks, thinking back to the events that just happened, the fear, the violence, it couldn’t possibly become any worse, right? 

You sat like that for a while, listening to the water drip and flow from the still broken pipes. Eventually another professor had come in and repaired the broken pieces, paying you no mind as you still sat on the sinks. You weren’t really sure how long you sat there, but it was very dark outside when your mind finally released you from your spiralling thoughts.  

“I think I’ll go visit Draco,” you whispered to no one in particular. You braved leaving the bathrooms to fetch help, you could make it to the hospital wing, couldn’t you? The other ghosts of Hogwarts–minus Moaning Myrtle– could all roam free, so why not you? 

Cautiously, you peeped your head through the door and slowly, but eventually slipped your whole figure out. Once you were out, you peered down at your misty form, smiling that you had left the confines of the bathrooms. 

Everything was calm, night time was always so peaceful. It was almost serene to just float around the empty corridors. The moon shone brightly and the stars twinkled in all of their glory. A soft breeze blew every now and then, making the leaves quiver and the grass sway. Oh how you wish you could feel these little things again. 

Before you knew it, you were hovering next to Draco’s bedside, his expression looked so peaceful. You assumed Madame Pomfrey provided him with potions to help any pains and for a peaceful rest. Looking at the clock on the table, it showed it was nearly four in the morning. The dark blue night was not so deep anymore, but fading into a purple hue as the time ticked by. 

A couple hours had passed by the time Draco’s eyelids fluttered open. He was a bit dazed as he tried to gather his surroundings, unsure of where he was. Without turning his head, he let his eyes slide over to the right of him. He was met with your silvery form, deep in thought, not paying any mind to him. 

“You came.” He said, though it came out as more of a question than anything. 

You startled from your thoughts, “Oh! You’re awake! Are you alright now? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt still? Shall I grab Madame Pomfrey?” You couldn’t help yourself as questions fell from your mouth. Though you quickly slapped your hands over your mouth, squeaking out a muffled ‘sorry’ as Draco slightly smiled at your embarrassment. 

“I’m alright now I suppose. Thank you for coming. How did you leave though?” Draco asked, his brain finally processing that you had actually left the bathrooms. Over the weeks he got to know you, you had not once left the bathrooms where you met your tragic fate.

“You know, I’m not actually bound to that bathroom, right?” You giggled at his question. “I suppose I was just afraid to leave… or maybe I wasn’t ready to face the rest of the world and accept my fate.” You looked down, feeling a little embarrassed about your hesitancy to leave. 

“Oh, I–” “No, there’s no need for any apologies! I feel much better about my situation now though. I feel lighter. I feel more free. Now I’m wishing I actually was free and not stuck here on Earth like this.” You cut Draco off before he could begin any sort of apologies. You had enough of those and didn’t feel like hearing more. You laughed a bit as you expressed your thoughts out loud though, “I can go play with the other ghosts of Hogwarts now. Maybe that will be alright.” 

A genuine smile dawned on Draco’s face as he gave an airy chuckle. “Yeah, go and make some ghost friends. Oh how they grow up so fast!” You punched him in the arm, though your fist went right through, but the gesture made Draco laugh harder. He was glad that things were turning brighter for you. 

–==--==--==--=The Day the War Started=--==--==--==--

Draco was back in your bathroom, ranting, rambling, pouring his heart out to you again. Though you had the option to leave the bathrooms, it was your home base for now. You figured eventually you would choose somewhere else though. Eventually the horrific memories would plague your mind and you would need to escape them, but for some reason, you felt drawn to the bathrooms still. Perhaps, because you died there, your soul and body were somehow connected to the location. Who knows though?

“Y/n, there’s a war coming. Voldemort and his army are already on their way. Y/n, what do I do? I don’t want to face this. I don’t want to have to choose between the innocent and then my parents. I can’t–” Draco would cry if he hadn’t used all of his tears up in the days before. He couldn’t sleep, barely ate, and did not attend his classes since he was stuck at the Malfoy Manor. 

You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to help. The war was coming, there was nothing you or anyone could do to stop it. So you silently sat on your sink, listening to Draco with sorrowful eyes, wishing you could help ease his worries. 

Just as he was going into another rant, a loud explosion startled the both of you into complete silence. Dreading it wasn’t what you thought was happening. 

“Draco, you have to go.” You whispered sadly. He searched your eyes for any reassurance or hope or anything that might give him a clear answer. 

“Will you– will you still be here?” Draco’s voice, raspy from sobs and screams, wavered as he asked in a quiet voice. A sad smile formed on your lips.

“Of course silly. I don’t think I can just disappear,” you laughed slightly and reached for his arm. He felt goosebumps form where your fingers grazed through his arm. “Go, you’ll find your way.” 

He nodded at you, fear, panic, sadness, all mixed into his expression. His stormy grey eyes watered as he looked at you one last time before turning to head out and join the oncoming war. 

Only moments later, you heard what sounded like Death Eaters swarming the hallways, throwing violent spells at anyone and anything in their way. 

Then only a minute later, half of the ceiling and wall came crashing down next to you. Though you were a ghost, you still jumped away, the rubble startling you as it came crashing down. 

The once repaired pipes were now burst again, water flooded the floors once again. You could see out into the hallways now, watching as students swarmed in panic, trying to escape the grasp of Death Eaters. There were students duelling adults twice their age with more magical experience than them. Spells were flying, more walls came crashing down. None of it sparing students and adults alike. 

Everything was so brutal and cruel. The world was cruel. 

Unable to bear watching more death and injury, you fled from your half destroyed bathroom. It was just wishful thinking, but you hoped Draco would come find you, to show you that he was still alive and fighting. It was just wishful thinking though. You didn’t have the bravery to go watch the battles yet. Without being able to help, it was unbearable to watch students sacrifice their lives like this. 

Just wishful thinking.

[straightlightyagami]

decided to poast second chapter of my death note fic here as well (ao3 link).

(first chapter)

(next chapter)

was going for a specific vibe here, might have overdone it. you can already see where some stuff is/will be different from canon.

EDIT: slightly changed some scenes!! I decided what I wanted to do with the "trans Light" thing, with help from a mutual (thank you, Vinny!! idk if you want me to say your username here). Basically, he identifies as trans but is in girlmode and not out to his parents. I was told this would be more in character and I agree. Also, this is not something common in Death Note fanfic, so I thought it would be interesting. Light is referred to with he/him pronouns in his POV and she/her in POV of people who don't know about it.

cw for some mention of eating issues in this chapter but it's just for Light's first few days of using the death note guilt arc

With mounting horror, he was beginning to grasp the impossibility of the task, especially in the worst case scenario of having only a few hours or days. Sure, he could eliminate anyone whose name he knew, and this would seem like an obvious easy way to dismantle certain institutions or governments. But it was not that simple, not at all. In the absence of an existing satisfactory alternative power structure to take the place of a corrupt leader, said leader would simply be replaced. Eliminating all possible replacements would result in a power vacuum, likely making the situation much worse than it was in the first place. So, in the very short term, his power was functionally useless in political terms. 

However, there was no guarantee, or indeed any evidence at all, in favor of or against, that there would be some sort of immediate divine punishment for using this power. As such, it was a balancing act of avoiding sabotaging his future work while also getting enough done to at least have any impact in whatever time he had. So the first step must be…

All of a sudden, it was all clear as day to him. He twirled his pen, turning on the computer and getting to work.

***

It was less than a month away from the winter solstice, so the sun had not yet risen when it was time to start getting ready for school. The sun’s rays painted strokes on the predawn sky like a painter on a canvas. The low clouds were the color of blood.

Light was snapped out of his trance-like state by the sounding of his alarm. He finished the last stroke with his pen, snapped the notebook shut, and hid it in his drawer under some papers, noting to himself that he would have to find a better hiding place later. Both of his hands were cramping a lot, as was his back and neck. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. He had started writing with his right hand, then switched to his left even though it was slower, then switched back. Maybe the hand pain will turn out to be a bigger problem than the guilt of killing people in the long run, he thought, then recoiled from his own thoughts with a revulsion at the rather nonchalant way he was treating the whole affair. Was it really that easy? It was better for him if it was, he supposed.

He went about his morning routine in a methodical, almost robotic fashion. Standing in front of the mirror, he straightened his tie and took a deep breath. I just have to focus on acting as usual. It was all a bad dream. None of it happened. Except, of course, it did. 

As he finished combing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror, he heard his sister Sayu banging on the door. “Are you done in there? I’ve been waiting here for five minutes. I need to go.” 

“Yes, sorry. And good morning to you too.” Adjusting his facial expression to leave no clue to his emotional state, he opened the door, walked past Sayu while pointedly ignoring her pouting and further comments, and went into his room to grab his school bag before heading downstairs. 

He greeted his mother in the kitchen and sat down to eat breakfast, occasionally contributing to the conversation between her and Sayu, who had joined them. He had half expected to feel too nauseous to eat, but all he felt was the familiar sense of numbness.

After packing his lunch in his bag and thanking his mother for the food, Light stood at the door, waiting for Sayu to join him to walk the stretch of road at which their routes to school coincided. They walked together under the late autumn sky, the sound of Sayu’s voice bouncing from the houses as she excitedly chattered about something. Light wished her a good day at school and they parted at the next intersection. 

***

Perhaps as the natural result of pulling an all-nighter (he did not have much experience with that prior to that night), or as his brain’s subconscious method of coping with what he had done, he found himself in a strange state where his mind felt completely empty for once but he was unable to concentrate on any specific task. Every conversation, every action was carried out as if on autopilot. It was as if an icy crust of numbness had encased him. This numbness was broken through when he found himself holding a pencil, ready to start working on an assignment for some class (he realized he was unsure what time in the day it was). As he was about to write his name in the corner of the page, he felt his head spin and found it slightly hard to breathe. Dropping the pen to prevent his hands from visibly shaking, he got up, apologized, saying he wasn’t feeling well, and walked out of the classroom. 

He headed to the girls’ bathroom on the third floor, figuring that unless someone purposefully wanted to summon Hanako-san, it would be the most private option. Inwardly, he scoffed at such superstitions, but remembering the cause of his present torment, could he be as sure that all urban legends are entirely baseless?

Thankfully, there was no one inside, so he could avoid being asked awkward questions, or worse, someone witnessing his inevitable tears. It was less uncomfortable that way. He took a shaky breath and steadied himself against the sink, staring into his reflection in the mirror as if it could give him the answers he needed. His face was just the same as the day before, the same soft brown hair falling into his eyes, but could he be the same person? He could pretend, but he could definitionally no longer truly be the person he was before. Every smile, every word would be a lie. In a way, every decision he made about someone else’s death killed a part of him too.

Another wave of panic hit him as he realized that him being dead might soon be not so metaphorical. Feeling hot tears flow down his cheeks, he headed for the third bathroom stall so nobody would see. He sat on the toilet with its lid closed and pulled his legs up, pressing his forehead against his knees, and wept soundlessly. 

There was objective proof of the supernatural. No doubt this meant there would be some kind of retribution for his actions. Or, if someone were to stumble upon the notebook… if they found out it was real… even if it was his family, they would hate him. They would kill him. Maybe he deserved it. He did not want to die. There was still so much he wanted to see and know… It seemed to him that it would make for a miserable life for him to die this young.

More than ever before, he wanted to live.

But he had no choice. What was done was done, he had to keep going (sunk cost fallacy, a voice in his mind supplied. Except it’s not a fallacy, he reasoned, because it actually applies in this case. There are no second chances. One mistake is all it takes. Might as well make the most of it). He finally had what he had always wanted, a chance to change the world, and he had to take it even if it ultimately killed him. Doing otherwise would be a supremely selfish act. And Light resolved that until his last breath, he would hold out hope that he could see a better world come to fruition, for his altruism was matched only by his optimism.

***

It was just past eleven in the evening. Sachiko closed her book as her phone buzzed with a message from her husband. He was working late again, so there was no point in waiting. She got up and was about to turn off the lights in her room when she heard a strange noise downstairs. 

Light was standing in the middle of the kitchen, head in her hands, elbows on the counter. 

“Light? Did something happen?”

She looked up, slightly startled, as if she had not expected to see anyone there. “No, mom… Everything is fine. I’m just a little tired. I will go to bed now.”

“If you say so…” Sachiko watched her begin to walk away and stopped her. “Listen. If there is something wrong, you can always tell me, you know. I am your mother.”

Light turned around and smiled. “I know. It’s nothing. Goodnight.”

She pulled her into a hug. “You are the best daughter a mother could ask for.”

***

Somehow, his mother’s embrace made him feel worse, and for once not even because it was an unwelcome reminder of how he was a daughter. He felt disgusting and impure because he was a liar who lied to himself and to everyone else, who allowed his own mother to love a murderer. He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep for three hours before giving up and going to his desk to write names.

***

The next few days passed similarly. Light forced himself to sleep and eat whenever he could so he would not die, but it was a challenge. During the weekend, he spent most of the day writing names, taking breaks only when his hands hurt too much. When he went back to school, he felt like he could collapse at any moment. 

On Wednesday evening, he was sitting at his desk, flipping through the notebook, feeling rather self-satisfied. In five days, he had written over 500 names. His plan was going great; he had no doubt about it now. Outside, the wind was howling and the rain pattered on the roof and on the window. A quiet laugh escaped his lips.

“You seem to like it,” a raspy voice sounded behind him.

Light whipped around and found himself facing some kind of demonic creature. It was well over two meters tall, with black feathery wings, bugged out eyes that glowed red, and long, sharp teeth and claws. He screamed and fell off his chair. 

“Why are you so surprised to see me? I’m Ryuk, the shinigami who dropped that notebook,” the creature said. “The way you were acting just now, I can tell you know it isn’t an ordinary notebook.”

“A shinigami?” Light slowly rose to his feet, steadying himself against his chair. So he was right… “I’m not surprised to see you, Ryuk. In fact, I have been waiting for you.”

The shinigami tilted its (his?) head curiously. “Really?”

“By visiting me, you have confirmed what I thought,” Light continued. If he was going to die now, he would not let the creature see his fear. “There is a lot I wanted to ask you.” He showed Ryuk the filled pages. 

“Wow,” the shinigami said with a grating laugh, “I gotta say I’m surprised. Death notes have made it to the human world before, but you are the first to write so many in just five days. Most humans would be too scared.”

“I used the notebook knowing it belonged to a shinigami. Ryuk, did you come to take my soul?”

“Huh? Is that some fantasy you humans came up with? I’m not going to do anything to you. The moment a death note lands in the human world, it belongs there. So it’s yours now.”

“Mine?”

“You don’t want it, give it to another human. When you do, I will erase all of your death note memories.”

“So there is no price to pay for using the death note?” 

“Not exactly. There is the terror and torment only humans who’ve used it will experience, and when you die, I’ll be the one writing your name down. But don’t think that any human who’s used the death note can go to heaven or hell.”

That could mean only one thing. Justice truly did not inherently exist in the universe. Not that Light believed in such things, but it was still odd to be probably the only person alive to know it for certain. “One more question. Why did you choose me?”

Ryuk laughed again. “Choose you? Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t choose you. I dropped the notebook, and you just happened to pick it up.”

It was not quite adding up. Ryuk’s actions, from a logical standpoint, did not make sense. He was withholding something. “Why did you drop it?”

“I was bored.”

At that moment, Light heard a knock at his door. He panicked. How would he hide a shinigami from his mom?

“Go ahead, open it.”

Light hesitated but obliged. His mother was holding a basket of apples (red delicious, the worst kind). “The neighbors brought some over…” she explained, completely unaware of the monster in his room. “Why is it so dark in here? You’ll ruin your eyes.”

“Sorry, Mom. Thank you.” He closed the door, set the apples down on his desk, then looked at Ryuk questioningly.

“The death note is the bond between Light the human and Ryuk the shinigami. Nobody else can see me unless they touch the notebook.” Ryuk paused to gobble up an apple. “Apples in the human world are so… how do you say? Juicy.” He proceeded to eat the rest of the apples.

Well, he would have to find a way to hide the notebook to make sure nobody touched it. In the meantime, he decided to get back to the previous topic. “You said you were bored?”

“There’s nothing interesting in the shinigami realm. The others spend all their time gambling. All there is to do is write humans’ names, and that’s no fun when we can’t even see them. I figured the human world would be more interesting.” Ryuk turned his unblinking stare on the pages again. “I have to ask, what did you write all of these names and descriptions for? We shinigami do it because the remaining years of the human’s lifespan are added to our own. But you don’t get anything from it.”

“I was bored, too.” Light smiled sadly. “To tell you the truth, the human world is rotten. We have built great civilizations, but people continue to suffer. And the worst thing is, all these problems, of war, poverty, environmental collapse… we would be perfectly capable of fixing them, but the interests of those with the means to do so necessitate their continued existence. I may be in a position to benefit from how things are now, but,” he turned to face the window, “I cannot simply look at the world and turn away from all this suffering that I am capable of reducing by using this notebook. My goal is not to rule the world. I just want people to see how wrong our capitalist system is and take action themselves. The first phase of my plan, that I have been enacting for the past few days, is to get people to take notice. I’ve done this by getting rid of the world’s worst criminals, such as serial killers and rapists, crime bosses and the like whose identities are known but nonetheless elude the police, and corrupt officials or corporate criminals, who are usually not punished by the justice system. You may have noticed that while I controlled the actions of some people before death, I did not specify the cause of death for most of them. That’s the best thing about the death note, Ryuk. If you don’t write a cause of death, they all die of a heart attack. People are bound to start noticing soon… and then, I can move on to the next phase of my plan.”

“And what’s that?”

Light turned back around to face Ryuk. “You will find out when it’s time.”

“I was right… Humans are so interesting.”

***

After showering and brushing his teeth, Light walked back to his room in pajamas and stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “Do shinigami sleep?”

“Huh? No.”

“Well, please do not disturb me while I’m sleeping,” and with that, he turned off the lights and climbed under the covers. 

Ryuk was definitely a threat, and one Light did not know how to eliminate at that, so it was a little disconcerting, but he could think about that later. For now, at least he knew he would likely not die in the near future, so he would be able to plan ahead. Knowing this felt like a weight had been lifted from him. He realized just how tired he was. It was only half past nine, quite a bit earlier than he usually went to bed, but the several days of poor sleep and nightmares had caught up to him. He curled up beneath the covers, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 7

[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Part 7: Disaster Roulette: Of Moths and Men

[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]

[SLIDE: The Silver Bridge.]

D: What?

A: All right, that was not me.

L: Where are we?

D: A bridge.

L: That doesn’t narrow it down…

R: It’s the Silver Bridge, over the Ohio River. First thing that came to me when you said “outdoorsy.”

A: Oh, yeah. It’s been a while…

L: Oh, sweet. I always wanted to do this one.

A: Yeah, we really needed a third… What the fuck is that?

[snarling, gnawing, sounds of a chain chipping]

D: Mothman. It’s Mothman.

L: Cool! Alice, you still have your cursed phone? I’m getting a selfie!

[camera sound]

R: So, evidently, a certain amount of artistic license is in play, here.

A: Hello, Mothman! Big fan!

L: You said you were in a relationship with him.

A: I can be in a relationship and still be a fan, it’s cute!

[further camera noises]

A: Liam, put that fucking phone away, I have an actual camera in my purse. Somewhere. Under the phone slime. Oh, God… What sort of a lens do you want? How far away is he? Wait… [raising voice] Mothman! What are your pronouns?!

[snarling, gnawing, snapping]

A: I don’t think he can hear me. Or possibly “they.” God, Tumblr’s going to be pissed…

R: What we have here is almost certainly a pocket dimension, sort of a rift in reality, with its own internal logic and rules. I fell into one of these in the summer of 2017, while in an altered state of consciousness…

L: What, did you do a shitload of DMT or something?

R: Nah, I just ate a really good piece of pie. With real whipped cream. Funnily enough, I did meet a Machine Elf, but he just wanted to know where I got the pie. What we gotta establish is whether we have any say in what’s goin’ on here, or if Gozer is creating this reality outta whole cloth, as it were…

D [excited]: We definitely have some control over it! I knew something was up before we even started recording!

L: Because of the lava button?

D: No, fuck off, the lava button is brilliant. Rocz has never been drier or more informative, and Alice, Alice has serious anxiety, but she was quipping away not five minutes after falling through an interdimensional portal at a Tesco. And Liam… Liam… You have been… so… Liam.

L: Thank you?

D: It’s not a compliment! We have become the ultimate, most stereotypical version of WTYP and ourselves! It’s almost as if, as if…

A: What?

D: Nevermind. Call it an immune response! When threatened with an apocalyptic breach of our sanity, we are capable of falling so deeply into denial that reality itself bends around us in the form of a WTYP bonus episode!

A: Dev, denial does not work that way…

D: It does! Here, it does! A reality-warping Sumerian deity had us trapped in the fucking Kursk, a disaster with no survivors, and xe is trying to kill us, but xe let us go! As long as we keep podcasting, as long as we keep producing content that could loosely be construed as a bonus episode, we are invincible!

A: So, does it not matter that Mothman is eating through that suspension chain as quickly as he, she, or they can?

D: [crazed laughter] I have no fucking clue! But this is the only thing we can do, and we are brilliant at it, so let’s just keep doing it! Rocz! You keep quoting Wikipedia and your vast knowledge of engineering verbatim!

R: I already got fifteen tabs open…

D: Open thirty! Liam! Verbalise every last unhinged, irrelevant thought that pops into your head!

L: Can do!

D: And keep hating fish! And the Dutch! And Dutch fish!

L: And TERFs, Dev?

D: We’ll all help you hate the TERFs! And Alice, dear Alice…

A: Dev, I’m already under a significant amount of pressure…

D [warmly]: You don’t have to worry — not any more than usual. Just keep eating cigarettes and quipping up a storm, with intermittent anxiety, and we’re going to be fine!

L: Hey, uh, Dev…

D: And I, I shall continue to be irritated with all of you while futilely attempting to steer you back on topic! Now let’s get out there and be unflaggingly respectful of our guest’s pronouns, and of anyone or anything else that might show up, and mercilessly critical of capitalism, corporatism, and conservative… Con, uh… Conservative cunts!

L: Hey, Dev!

D [saintly, beneficent, faintly messianic]: Yes, Liam? Have you an irrelevant thought to share?

L: Uh, no, it’s relevant. It’s very relevant.

D: Oh. Yes? What is it?

L: Rousing speeches aren’t an established part of our podcast format and he’s — or she’s, or they’re — about to finish eating through that ch…

[snapping, rumbling and tearing, sounds of a bridge disintegrating, and screams]

L: Choke on me, fish!

A: I commend my soul to the glory of God and/or Mothman — whichever one of them is willing to save me!

R: Train good, ancient Sumerian deity bad!

D: Oh, God, why couldn’t I just stay on topic…?

[more screaming, slowly fading]

A: Are… Are we falling very slowly or is this a panic attack?

[shuffling, muttering, inaudible discussion]

D [triumphant]: It’s the slime! My shoes are full of psycho-reactive pink slime!

A: And my purse!

L: And this cursed phone!

D: And Rocz’s… And Rocz’s… Um.

A: Oh, fuck.

L: Is he down there? Do you see him?

D: We can’t do an engineering disasters podcast without Rocz! HE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT ENGINEERING!

R [faintly]: I’m over here!

A: It’s Mothman!

D [laughing, relieved]: Well done, Mothman! Good job! Good man! Or… Or bug. Being. Good being!

R [faintly]: Technically, he shouldn’t be able to fly with that wingspan, let alone carry me! This is all very paranormal, and frustrating from an engineering standpoint! I believe he’s letting me down on the Ohio side of the river! Hang on, I’ve still got my laptop and a mic… [louder, clearer] Is that better?

D [applauding]: Yes! Brilliant! I’ll fix it in post!

R: Thanks, Mothman. Why did you save me?

MOTHMAN (MM): I like trains too. [sound of wingbeats retreating]

A: And now he’s going to save us too! Now he’s going to… Excuse me, Mothman! HEY!

MM [faintly, ever more distant]: Peace be with you! Remember to love each other! And take care of your infrastructure…

L: HEY! I LIKE TRAINS AS MUCH AS ROCZ DOES! MAYBE EVEN MORE!

D: Oh, God…

A: I’VE HAD IT, MOTHMAN, WE ARE THROUGH! I AM SICK OF YOU LEAVING YOUR… YOUR FUCKING COCOONS ALL OVER THE HOUSE! I AM GOING TO SET THEM ON FIRE! AND IF YOU THINK I’M GIVING BACK YOUR ANTENNAE BRUSH, YOU BETTER THINK AGAIN!

L: Hey, uh, Rocz? How’s the water down there?

R: Hang on, I’m looking it up…

A: Are there sharks?

D: It’s a river…

A: Are there deer? ARE THERE DEER, ROCZ?

L [annoyed]: I bet there’s fish.

D: Is the water warm?

R: Wikipedia is a little light on the details! But it’s December 15th, so, uh, no, the water is not warm! Lemme see here… 44 degrees!

D: What? That’s like a bath!

A: Must be climate change…

R: Fahrenheit! So that’s, uh, 6.66, Celsius!

L: Fucking Gozer, xe thinks xe’s so funny…

A: Oh, shit, oh, shit…

D: Um, it’s very doubtful we’ll be able to continue podcasting at that temperature, Rocz, even if the equipment survives!

L: Can we flap? Try flapping!

[sounds of flapping and straining]

R: I do not recommend you try flapping! You don’t have enough surface area to make much of a difference!

A: Fuck.

L: Shit.

R: If you could construct a rudimentary glider, or even find a couple of pizza boxes…

D: WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SILVER BRIDGE DISASTER, THERE ARE NO FUCKING PIZZA BOXES!

L: Isn’t this slime supposed to be a little more, ya know, lively? Dancing toasters and stuff?

D: It likes music! Doesn’t it like music?

L: Jackie Wilson! It likes Jackie Wilson! Let’s sing “Higher and Higher”!

[pause, silence]

D: It’s no good! We don’t have the rights!

L: Fucking YouTube.

A: I BLAME YOU FOR THIS, NATE! ALSO, MOTHMAN!

D: Wait, wait, wait! I’ve got it! [laughing, relieved] I’ll edit it out in post!

[SLIDE: Test pattern, captioned: WE ARE EXPERIENCING COPYRIGHT DIFFICULTIES. WE’LL BE RIGHT BACK.]

[generic, public domain music]

[SLIDE: The Silver Bridge overlaid with a record of Jackie Wilson’s “Higher and Higher.”]

R: And that is why Motown is, and forever shall be, better than Country.

G: ALL RIGHT. ALL RIGHT. CHOOSE ANOTHER FORM.

R: No.

A: We like this one.

G: [sigh] CHOOSE ANOTHER ENGINEERING DISASTER!

L: Something funny!

R: And cute!

A: Where nobody dies!

WTYP, together: THE ATMOSPHERIC RAILWAY!

Part 8

[pascalls]

I'm answering ALL OF THESE IN ONE POST LOL because some of them are good questions! Check out my answers under the read-more!

Charlie's current living situation in the Simpsons Universe is either in Reverend Lovejoy's basement, somewhere under a table at Moe's, or in one of Sam's trucks. He'll bounce back and forth from place to place- if none of the three are available, he'll find sleep in a dumpster somewhere. He's not very picky. I wrote about him sleeping in the trash in Gazebo of Horrors.

In most AUs, Charlie can speak conversational French, but nothing else.

His mutation in the Simpsons universe was immediate and complete. He won't continue to mutate further. Any larger doses of whatever Burns gave him would probably just end up killing him. I would imagine that it was kind of a funny werewolf-style transformation in Simpsons universe. In other, more realistic universes, his transformation was gradual, painful, and not at all pleasant. His voice is the same before and after the transformation! In Simpsons universe, he is American- in most other universes, he is from North London and has a fairly heavy cockney accent.

The transformation changed a lot about how Charlie perceives the world. He relies a lot heavier on scent and hearing now, and he does occasionally shed scales. He's also highly sensitive to cold temperatures. Most medicines, however, will still work on him. He's just prone to addiction- but that was evident even before his transformation. The mutation has not affected his sexual health in any significant way in the Simpsons universe. In others, he is known to be very fertile and can produce a lot of offspring with both humans and individuals of other humanoid species (werewolves, aliens, dragons, etc.) It gets weird and muddy. But he's known to have a fairly high sex drive post-mutation.

Yes, as stated above, Charlie has developed more animalistic behaviors and instincts. He's known to be territorial over mates or potential mates (or partners, putting it more politely). He's aggressive when challenged and is prone to biting and clawing in a fight as opposed to punching and kicking.

Charlie has never spoken or talked to the Parson. If they were to meet, Charlie would not be a fan of him. He's too smooth talking and he seems way too snooty. Charlie would put super glue on his chair.

I HAVEN'T SEEN THE RECENT EPISODES so I'm probably just like unaware of this entirely lmao but I don't think Charlie would have much knowledge of the relationship between Homer and Chalmers either. In his mind, those are two separate people who he has individual relationships with. Rarely would they be seen together as a threesome.

Charlie's tail is prehensile, but it's pretty heavy. He doesn't utilize it much AS an extended appendage, but he can, in a pinch. The funnest thing he does is lean back on his tail and use it as a balance so he can kangaroo kick someone right in the gut.

Charlie's tail is probably tugged on a lot during sex... I can imagine that it might have posed an interesting dynamic when first introduced to Lovejoy and Sam- but I think Chalmers would've been like "OH COOL, LET ME PULL THIS UNTIL IT HURTS". Sam would get used to it. Lovejoy would continue to be horribly awkward about it every time.

Charlie's eyesight has never been phenomenal. It got better with the mutation, not worse. But in almost every universe, his eyesight will suffer in some way, shape, or form. In his main universe, he is now blind. In Simpson's universe, he just needs them to see detailed things from far away.

Post-transformation, Charlie probably stole a lot of food out of the trash. His first decent meal was probably not until he could steal MONEY and then go order take-out or something. But he's never really been in danger of starvation.

I'd like to think Mr. Burns forgot about Charlie like literally two days after he disappeared- he had other weird shit to do. Smithers is 100% aware of Charlie (considering they sort of have a friends with benefits thing going on), but isn't keen on reminding Mr. Burns about it UNLESS he feels particularly like a bitch or if Charlie does something to piss him off. So far, so good. Mr. Burns probably didn't say much about Charlie's disappearance. He wasn't a popular dude before the incident, so it's not like anyone really cared LOL.

YES, you may draw her. Her name is Carla!

Charlie can probably pick apart a few words in Spanish, but not much! The only words he'd be familiar with are any that also sound similar to French.

His parents are worse. He would prefer to be caught by Mr. Burns.

Pokemon!Charlie would be a normal human! But he'd specialize in lizard/dragon/dinosaur pokemon. He actually has a team that I've developed before! It consists of Krookodile, Archen, Goomy, Breloom, Heliolisk, and Cranidos! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE QUASTIONS!

[tobyblogger]

Hello I am back, I noticed some grammatical errors of my post regarding my experience of the FNaPF copy.

Here are my corrections:

I've been browsing for FNaF fangames on a website called Gamejolt. If you're unfamiliar, Gamejolt is a website where users can find games and other content organized by realms, communities, and posts.

Many of the games on this website are action, horror, adventure, and, of course, fangame-based. However, it seems that a lot of people focus on the FNaF-related ones.

I’m one of those people.

This is where I made the greatest mistake of my entire life. Instead of downloading the game I wanted on Gamejolt, I thought it was the smartest idea to download it on a different website. It was similar to Gamejolt, but with some peculiarities.

What was the game I wanted to play? Well, there's a specific FNaF fangame that hasn't garnered much attention. The game is called Five Nights at Prototype Fredbear’s (which is also available on Gamejolt); it's like any other FNaF fangame, but it's designed in a style reminiscent of those from 2014 or 2015. It's oddly charming and reminds me of the series' earlier days.

I clicked the download button and began playing; the .exe file automatically started downloading. I didn’t need to unzip any files or take any additional steps; the download provided me with the game effortlessly. I opened the game, and it gave me a warning about it having flashing lights, jumpscares, and loud noises. I proceeded, and it took me straight to the menu. The static scared me pretty badly, but this allows me to see if the game works.

One thing I noticed was how, for a split second, Prototype Fredbear, the yellow bear, had his pupils missing. I took a screenshot to examine it further; there were cracks on the front portions of the face and torso. It was evident that the game was updated to version 4.0, but for some reason, the color of the four didn’t match the 0 and the letter V.

Anyway, I pressed the new game button, and it took me to the newspaper, telling me that Fredbears had been built and it was hiring. So far, everything seemed to be working, and I also noticed something in the last paragraph of the newspaper: a black bear? Not unusual, as it’s probably referring to Shadow Fredbear as mentioned in the character section of the game's description.

My night was loaded, and I was brought into the office. While I was there, I instantly noticed a bug: the doors weren’t properly attached. While that detail didn’t matter, it seemed like the developer who created this game tried to fix it, but he wasn’t successful, or that the doors were intentionally made like that; nonetheless, the game worked fine, I checked the cameras and closed the doors as soon as the main animatronics reached my door.

As I was doing these things, I noticed the power going down, so I had to be careful. As I was checking the cameras, I noticed Bonnet sitting on Prototype Fredbear’s shoulder. I chuckled a bit, as that was a pretty cute detail, even for a game like this.

My joy was cut short when I returned to the camera, and I noticed that Prototype Fredbear was looking directly at it, with his pupils missing, just like in the menu at the beginning of the game. I couldn't help but stare into the bear’s eyes.

The night ended, and I went to sleep, turning off the game. What happened in my dream was disturbing. I was giving food to my cat, which was normal at first, but when I checked the windows while I washed some dishes, I saw him, Prototype Fredbear, with those cracks and those empty eyes.

He was just staring at me in the eyes; there’s no doubt that this is some sort of hallucination or some guy pretending to be a furry by cosplaying as an animatronic.

I washed my face in the sink, and he was gone when I looked back. As I went outside, I noticed that the gate was open, swinging back and forth. I immediately ran inside and noticed my cat was missing. I noticed something that would make me cry and vomit in fear. In my room, in front of my desktop, my cat was lying on the ground with a chunk of his body missing and bitten off. I got up and went on my phone to call the police, but there was no connection, even though I swear I remember having a good connection.

Losing hope and staring at my cat’s body, I backed up, and there was the yellow giant bear behind me. I noticed my kitchen knife in his hand, and when I tried to grab it from him, he struck me with the knife and slashed a wound on my waist.

Luckily, I woke up, and due to my curiosity, I had to finish this game.

I kept playing until I unlocked a custom night. Initially, my main goal was to find the secret character, Shadow Fredbear. However, that's no longer my priority. I won't attempt 20/20/20/20 mode either. Before playing this game, I watched a gameplay video where Beemanz, a staff member and a close friend of the game's creator, completed the mode and received a satisfying ending. I won’t be getting that ending; I set everybody except for Prototype Fredbear to zero, and lord, if the game wasn't creepier than it was. Also, one thing I would like to point out is that this ending isn’t present in the real game, you know, the one on the Gamejolt page.

If I remember correctly, Lolbit, Bonnet, Springbonnie, and the other bear, Springfreddy, weren't activated. However, in this case, they were activated and started moving.

During this, the bathroom camera turned on.

The odd part about this game is the animatronics appearing in places where they shouldn't be; while it didn't seem out of the ordinary, it was still odd. For example, in the actual game, you would normally see Springbonnie hanging or floating in the parts and service room, right? Instead, Prototype Fredbear is seen instead, and where is Springbonnie? He took Prototype Fredbear’s role, and Prototype Fredbear took Springbonnie’s role.

The camera began glitching out, displaying some rather questionable content. It seemed to be taken from BestGore (a website that is now closed, fortunately), and that's all I'll mention without delving into unnecessary detail. Some of the violent images being shown also appeared as if they were part of the game itself.

Clearly, something had changed.

I checked the bathroom camera, and there was something inside one of the stalls—a mutilated body of a person stuffed into the toilet. On the ground, there was, yes, as you guessed, blood mixed with feces and urine; the body was clearly photoshopped on the toilet; and the bathroom itself was clearly a stock photo and didn’t look anything like the rest of the game, as the main game is made with the source filmmaker, a movie-making software published by Valve (you know, the company that made pretty good games like Half-Life, Team Fortress, Garry’s Mod, and Left 4 Dead).

I mean, yeah, sure, the other cameras still looked like the same style that the creator made them, but the animatronic poses were replaced with a different character and were clearly slapped on top of the original animatronics in Photoshop.

The audio in the background was overpowering the original ambiance, which was taken directly from Five Nights at Wario’s 3. It consisted of branches and leaves being crushed and sounds of grass being stepped on, gradually growing closer.

The audio cut off, and the audio went back to the original ambiance. I wanted the night to end, so I waited for the animatronics to attack. For some reason, the AI got pretty broken, and the animatronics refused to attack; all they were doing was staring at the cameras, taunting me.

I flipped down the camera and finally encountered Shadow Fredbear, the secret antagonist.

Shadow Fredbear sat next to the door in the pose of Golden Freddy and killed me; however, there was an extended version of the scream; it was like Shadow Fredbear’s regular scream in the original game, but the screaming got louder and louder, and there were sounds of footsteps; the footsteps sounded like they were in my house, but when I looked behind me, there was nothing there.

It not only took me to the game over screen, but it also played two clips related to the main antagonist of the game. The first one depicted a yellowish grizzly bear, and it repeated continuously, showing the bear getting its head cut off repeatedly.

The next clip also depicted a yellowish bear being ground up, and it ended with a screenshot that never appeared in the game: a photo of Prototype Fredbear, Lolbit, Bonnet, and Springbonnie staring into the camera. Prototype Fredbear and Springbonnie had no pupils, and Lolbit’s pupils were missing; however, Bonnet seemed normal.

The screen immediately cuts back to the main menu, and it froze and crashed. After turning off the game, I began processing and trying to figure out what had happened.

After the creator, Joseph, made the game, someone downloaded the original game, broke into the MFA file, and began editing the source code, mixing up the AI, and inserting videos from BestGore (which might have been taken from other gore sites) into the game. Perhaps there's a chance that the hacker is responsible for the murders. They might have taken photos of the murders and inserted them into the game.

I uninstalled the game, and the nightmares haven't occurred since.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 155,

Morning thought: I’m almost disturbed by how okay I feel.  

Yesterday’s events feel like little more than a bad dream, albeit an especially vivid one.  In truth, I’ve felt worse following the nightmares of the Catacomb Depths.  I need look no further than the scraps on my hands and knees and the lingering soreness of my wrist for evidence that it was more than that, yet when I look at them, poke and prod them, there are no flashbacks, no dawning horror of the reality of that phantasmagorical crowd.  Just an “Oh, I guess that really did happen.  Huh.”

Is this what it means to be repressing trauma?  Is my mind fogged by some fae influence that makes the encounter coincidentally (intentionally?) easier to bear?  Or was the whole experience so far removed from my ingrained past world sensibilities that I simply can’t accept and process it all as having been “real” on a subconscious, emotional level to be fully affected by it?

Whatever the reason, I’m satisfied just to be functional and in relatively good health.

*******

Waiting for the laundry to dry.  Never got the chance to hang it up yesterday.  I didn’t get up until sometime around noon but Maiko tried doing it in my absence.  She did a better, less crease and stretch inducing job than I did my first try, I’ll give her that.

It’s funny, as little as the expected emotional repercussions of yesterday’s ordeal seem to be sticking, my mind keeps going back to the seemingly unanswerable why’s of it all.  For instance, why bring me out there in the first place and dance me around in front of what I presume are other nature sprites?  Was it like a child showing off a new favorite toy?  A public declaration that “my” sprite has claimed me so I’m off limits to the others?  Or perhaps the opposite: “my” sprite finally growing bored of me and auctioning me off to the others.  Maybe it was some manner of trial; that I’d been observed dancing in the rain and between that and the incident with the western rhythm “my” sprite was trying to induct me into being one of them.  If it was such a trial, I surely failed.

And what of the Wandering God?  Was the gathering some sort of ritual to summon it?  But if that’s the case then why would they all leave as soon as it appeared?  Unless perhaps I was meant as an offering and none of them wanted to be taken instead.  If that’s the case, then their offering was not accepted.  I can’t bring myself to accept the notion that it showed up to save me.  I’m not even sure it noticed I was there.  Perhaps the Wandering God was simply wandering through and interrupted whatever was happening by accident in a fortuitous coincidence for me.

What am I to the nature sprite?  It seems every time I start to think it’s out to help me in its roundabout way or begin to find it strangely endearing, it does something horrifying.

Perhaps the better question is what is it  to me?

Oh, also, I’m going to need to pick up a new block of laundry soap next market day.  I think we left it with the basket.

*******

I’m back at the archive.  Still planning to meet with Vernon for dinner soon, as scheduled.  There are some requests piled up, but I’ll deal with them after class tomorrow.

In a moment suggesting that I was perhaps not as unaffected by yesterday as believed, I found myself asking Maiko if she would walk to the Village with me.  For the portion she can safely do so without being seen of course.  When I thought about the prospect of traveling that cobblestone corridor through the trees alone for the better part of an hour, I’d found myself hesitant to go through with it.

Thankfully, she agreed to accompany me.  We didn’t talk much during that commute, but I was grateful for her presence nonetheless.  When we neared the Village proper and it was time to part ways, I found myself feeling the urge to hug her.  I did not.  It didn’t seem like the sort of thing she would go for.

I didn’t really register it at the time, but looking back, it occurs to me that she was talking the whole way back to the house last night.  I find that break from her norm offputting.  Just how worried did I have her last night?  How bad did I look when she found me?

I hope those villagers she saw don’t start making a habit of visiting the spring.  She seemed to like that spot.

*******

Dinner with Vernon was… refreshing.  True to his prediction, the chosen venue had few other people there, which was nice in and of itself.  As much as I didn’t want to be alone today, I really wasn’t up to dealing with crowds either.

He’d changed out of his mediator uniform yet was still wearing far too heavy a coat for this climate.  I may not be one for showing skin (laundry day with no one around but Maiko notwithstanding), but I still don’t know how he manages it.  His demeanor certainly showed no signs of overheating, nor other discomfort for that matter.

He greeted me with his usual good cheer.  A different sort of cheer from Lin’s energized playfulness.  More like a relaxed, confident optimism that even if there are low spots life and the world are ultimately good, and even if they have bad days or make mistakes people are generally pretty great and that includes you.  Most people that I’ve heard talk about him paint him in similar broad strokes to that.  It’s an attitude that tends to not unpleasantly infect the tone of any conversation with him.

The tone of the evening thus described, I suppose I’ll move on to recounting the actual conversation.  We started with the usual niceties and greetings.  What we’d been up to lately, etc.  I talked about being a (probably?) first time teacher, let myself get overly-enthused about the blackboard all over again, briefly mentioned the extrapolated census project, and - after a quick check that we wouldn’t be overheard - a bit about living with Maiko as a sort-of-roommate.  Meanwhile he talked some about his work and his wider social web of friends and acquaintances.  Both surprised me in their own way.  

The work talk because he spoke little of the mediations themselves and more about interactions with his fellow mediators and guards (apparently Martin actually has a sense of humor if you get to know him).  He said that with the nature of what he does, talking too much about it feels like unfairly gossiping about other people when they’re at their worst.  The only reason I heard as much or got as involved as I did with the matter of Bartolome and his feuding sons was due to my role as Archivist being relevant to the resolution.  I commented that in retrospect it seems a little strange that I haven’t gotten more of that.  In a tone halfway between pride and amusement, he said that keeping things from escalating to the point of being notable enough for me to record is kind of their job.

As for the anecdotes about his social life, I suppose it caught me off guard because I’d never really thought about that part of him before.  In my own little circle of friends that I’ve gathered none of the rest of us really have that.  I have a tendency to hide myself away in the archive or at my house, only talking to people for business and not making an effort to connect with them beyond that.  Until recently Cass spent most of her days either on the farm or manning her family’s stall on market days.  I suppose she must have spent her rainy seasons in school when she was younger, but she’s never mentioned having friends her own age from that, no one ever comes to visit with her, nor has she ever said anything about going to visit anyone besides her brother and sister-in-law (does the Village actually have laws for that term to apply?).  I suppose she can be a bit, well, “abrasive” isn’t quite the word I’m looking for but it’s actually not hard to imagine her not making many friends.  Meanwhile, Maiko grew up in the woods actively avoiding human contact out of fear and doesn’t seem keen on changing that much more than she already has anytime soon.  And Lin… well, I get the impression that she used to have a fairly vibrant social life but gradually drifted away from everyone.

Which is all a long way of saying that the rest of us don’t really socialize outside of eachother.  I guess that makes Vernon the group’s token extrovert.  Funny how easy it is to forget people have lives outside of the slice you see when they’re around you.

Also, of course, it wasn’t me dumping all my stuff then Vernon talking about himself for the rest of the evening.  Nor were the topics so nicely categorized.  It was a long, meandering back and forth drifting from topic to topic.  Mostly forth with me saying only small bits at a time and giving him prompting to go on until he’d long since lost his train of thought.  And that was more than a little intentional on my part, and for the same reasons that I left out my last visit with Pat and didn’t mention yesterday’s events beyond citing “just some nature sprite weirdness” when Vernon mentioned I looked distracted early on.  The truth is I didn’t want to think about myself or my problems tonight, I wanted to drink in someone else’s life.

There was one thing I did get around to asking that I’d been meaning to for some time, and that was inquiring into the source of Vernon’s spectacles.  He asked if I needed a pair myself  (a question that made me hesitate for some reason) but I told him my eyes were fine, I just had another potential use for similar glasswork.  When he asked what I started going on about that half-forgotten idea of mine to try to make a microscope and examine some crystals with it to get a better idea of their composition.  Maybe find out if they were actually rocks or something alive like coral.  Vernon told me the glassmaker - who lives out near the western coast of the island has made magnifying glasses and spheres before, but not, to his knowledge, anything as tiny and precise as what I was describing with the microscope.  Might be possible though.

And thus the evening carried on into the night with the two of us being among the last to leave the eatery and making our apologies to the proprietor for keeping the place open so late.  I accepted Vernon’s offer to walk me “home” to the library.  I did hug him as we prepared to part ways.  I figured he might be more receptive of such a gesture than Maiko.  It felt nice, but once the moment passed I was terribly embarrassed and began apologizing.  He laughed it off (in a “trying to lighten the mood and reassure” way, not a “laughing at you” way) and said that it was fine and nothing to apologize for.  And that, besides, it wasn’t the wildest gesture someone’s made toward him at the end of the night.  I responded with a nerve-tinged laugh, said that I’m sure it wasn’t, hoped it was too dim for him to notice me blushing, thanked him for the evening and bid him goodnight.

I do hope he didn’t take that the wrong way.  As I said before, I’ve no romantic intentions toward him, emotional nor physical.  It’s just… I really needed some kind of emotionally positive physical contact with another person.  Comfort.

<==Previous          Next==>

[burgundybmw]

Munson's Mixtape

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cunningham!Reader

Word Count: 3,720

Warnings: None.

Summary: Chrissy has been acting weird, and like a good big sister Y/N drives to Hawkins from Notre Dame to check in on her. Only to find out she has plans to meet up with Eddie Munson. Things take a turn for the worse and now Y/N gets wrapped in to the horrors of Hawkins. Hey, at least she has the company of the guitarist she was sweet on back in high school for comfort.

Author’s Note: And that's the end! It's so bittersweet to finish the fic that got me back into writing, but all good things come to an end eventually. I'm so beyond thrilled that everyone stuck with it this long! Hope you guys enjoy it! Further down the line I might post an epilogue, but we'll have to see what the future holds.

Final Track

The hot summer wind was whipping against Y/N's face as she drove down the familiar roads to Hawkins High School. Her mind wandered to Eddie, a welcomed train of thought as she nervously grasped the leather steering wheel of her Buick Regal. It was graduation day; he was finally crossing the stage after six long years. Y/N was so proud of him for accomplishing what no one else thought he would. It was bittersweet to think about, Chrissy would have graduated too. She'd be buzzing with excitement about going to UCLA in the fall. They would have gotten dinner with their parents that evening, just like they did when she graduated two years prior. Y/N tried to not let her grief cloud the joyous occasion, but she couldn't help it. Especially considering one of the surprises she had in store for Eddie.

She got the idea from a couple of comments he's made in the past few months. Eddie always talked about Y/N cheering him on, whether it was for his live shows, DnD campaigns, or graduation it didn't matter. It wasn't subtle, Eddie's fascination with her cheer uniform. She didn't mind it at all, which was why she dug out her old Hawkins cheer outfit and wore it today. It needed a lot of work to be done to it, a new zippers and loosened seams. Her body had changed a lot since high school, but the thought didn't cause the overwhelming panic and guilt like it used to. It was just a fact of life. Y/N put on her uniform, saw that it didn't fit, and brought it to the tailor's to get it fixed. It was still a bit tight on her, but she didn't think Eddie would mind it. The only thing she had to worry about was the skirt riding up the back, and she knew Eddie certainly wouldn't mind that at all either.

Everything was all taken care of. Uncle Wayne, Steve, and the kids were all coming to see their friends cross the stage. Robin, Nancy, and now Jonathan Byers, were all graduating alongside Eddie. Max was out of the hospital, all of her injuries healed after months of doctor's visits and physical therapy. She had to wear thick glasses in order to see properly, but they didn't bother her in the slightest. There was hope that with time her eyesight could improve but the girl didn't care either way. She said she was happy to be alive, that it was enough. They all survived an ordeal and now it was time for celebration.

The parking lot was packed with cars of all the different family members off to see the ceremony. Y/N managed to find one at the edge of the lot and rushed out to meet the rest of the gang. She was running late due to some preparations for Eddie's graduation present. She didn't mean to wait last minute, but Eddie was a major distraction leading up to the big day. The loves bites on her chest were evidence enough of that.

One thing she didn't consider was the amount of attention she would get once she walked into the school's auditorium. Students and family members were all staring at her. Eddie had told her that after the prom, she was the talk of the Hawkins high student body for weeks. People who never spoke to him before were asking all sorts of questions about her. Was she really dating him? For how long? Did they sleep together?

Eddie always answered the same way. Yes, since March, and none of your fucking business. He wasn't used to all of the attention, people avoided him like the plague most of his high school career, and for the past few months the only attention he got was negative. After the prom, everyone wanted to know about Eddie "The Freak" Munson. Gareth, Jeff, and the rest of Hellfire did their best to keep the gossip crowd at bay, but you can only do so much in high school. That's why graduation day was such a relief, no more bullshit. Y/N and Eddie could start planning the future together. For once, everything was going right. No worries about the Upside Down or shitty parents. It was just her and him, and the rest of the gang now too. Y/N loved her new little family with all of her heart. She just hoped Chrissy could see her as well.

"Cunningham! We're over here!" Y/N turned her head to see Steve waving his arm over the crowds of people. Their whole group took up an entire row of seats.

"What's with the cheer get up?" Miked asked as Y/N made her way into the row. She knew she looked a bit ridiculous, everyone else was dressed up for the occasion while she walked around in a tiny spandex skirt and pom poms.

"It's a surprise for Eddie-" Y/N began before Max interrupted.

"Ew. I don't wanna hear about your weird sex stuff"

"It's not that!" At least not entirely. She'd be lying if that wasn't part of the reason she decided to wear the uniform.

"Alright enough. Everyone sit down the ceremony is about to start!" Steve chastised with his hands on his hips. Y/N couldn't help but giggle to herself as she took her spot next to him. She was the last seat in the row towards the center aisle, exactly where she instructed Steve to save her spot. It was all a part of her plan, something that she knew would cause a mild spectacle. It was all for Eddie though, he would love the drama.

The faculty and staff of Hawkins High made their way onto the stage, with Principal Coleman at the head of the line. He walked up to the microphone, tapping it a few times before announcing the start of the commencement. He began by offering a moment of silence to all the students who should have been graduating that day but wouldn't, a solemn reminder of all they had lost. Y/N could feel the soft touch of Joyce's hand on her shoulder when they read the list of names of students who died. Chrissy was the third.

"Are you okay sweetie?" Joyce asked in a soft whisper. She was sitting behind Y/N in the other row next to Chief Hopper and the rest of the parents.

"Yea I'm alright" when she was young, Y/N used to feel jealous of Will and Jonathan. Their mother was one of the kindest women she had ever met, a stark contrast to her own. She used to think about what could have happened if Joyce had adopted her instead. At the time she felt guilty about it, felt as if she was abandoning her sister in her mind. Deep down she knew she would never trade the time she had with Chrissy, not for anything else in the world. Despite everything that happened, Y/N's relationship with her sister was something she'd never regret.

"And now, I'd like to introduce the class Valedictorian of 1986... Miss. Nancy Wheeler"

Nancy walked on stage with the same grace and power she had during the fight against Vecna. Her chin held eye and flawless posture. Y/N didn't know she had earned the title, but it didn't surprise her. Nancy was one of the smartest people she knew, and secretly one of the toughest too.

"Principal Coleman, Trustees, Faculty members, family, friends and of course, my fellow graduates of the class of 1986, it is a pleasure to be here today with all of you honoring this occasion" Nancy began, voice clear and strong through the microphone.

"Hawkins has been through many tragedies within the past three years and it's difficult to feel celebratory knowing that. Under normal circumstances, I would have stood up in front of all of you today and gave my thanks to the school, my fellow classmates, friends, and family. I would have cracked a few lame jokes about how good it is to finally leave high school, or how excited we all are to start our lives. I would have quoted C.S. Lewis or Mark Twain, something witty and clever that would get a few nods of appreciation from Ms. O'Donnell and others..."

The room was dead quiet, everyone laser focused on the girl behind the podium. Nancy took closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them once more. A moment of altruistic reflection before she spoke again.

"Yet, I can't bring myself to do that today. I can't stand here knowing there was someone else who deserved this spot more than me. I think about how if Barbara Holland hadn't died in 1983, she would have wiped the floor with me. I think about Fred Benson, who would have complained about taking VP when he was so close to beating me for first place. I think about Patrick McKinney, who I used to tutor in Calculus, coming up to me and thanking me for getting him here today. I think about Chrissy Cunningham, who would have been thrilled that her sister was here to watch her cross the same stage she did two years ago. I think about Eddie Munson, who almost didn't make it here today. Who fought tooth and nail in the hospital and within these walls to graduate this year. I think about every person who's missing from this room and wonder why they were taken from us. Why them? Why then? Why now?"

Y/N could feel her eyes fills with tears as Nancy spoke. For the past few months everyone told her how sorry they were for her loss, or how it's not good to dwell on the grief she felt. That she needed to move on, move forward. It was like they didn't want to acknowledge it, death. It was easy to talk about, but not to fully understand. Well wishes and 'in our prayers' are nice sentiments, but that's all they are. Sentiment. This was honesty.

"You're all probably wondering why I am giving such a solemn speech. It's graduation day, we should all be in high spirits. I don't disagree. I know some of us are in denial that we made it here today, expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. Others are angry that the supposed golden years are behind us now. We want to bargain our way out, hold on to adolescence just a bit longer, not ready to enter the world as adults. It's depressing to know that most of us will not see many of your faces again after this day. Yet, we must accept it is a fact of life.

We can allow ourselves to grieve, feel the pain that comes with loss, but still find joy within the everyday. We can celebrate today, our accomplishments, and still remember those who never got the chance too. We cannot have life without death, happiness without sorrow, peace without discord. You cannot see the light without the dark that surrounds it. I want to remind all of you today, that although this is the end of one stage in our lives, we do not have to forget everything that happened thus far. Every day we will continue to learn, grow, and develop into the people we are meant to be. We will go many places in life, and we will remember those who helped us get there. A wise man once said, your future hasn't been written yet. No one's has. Your future is whatever you make it...

So, congratulations class of 1986, go make your future a good one"

The room erupted into applause, a full standing ovation. There wasn't a dry eye in the building after Nancy's speech. It was exactly what everyone needed to hear in that moment, even if they didn't necessarily want to. Y/N was proud of her. She didn't plaster on a smile, say a few nice words to make everyone feel good. Nancy was sincere. There had been a dark cloud over Hawkins since the gate to the Upside Down had opened and now it felt like the sky was opening up again. There was hope for a better tomorrow, a rainbow in the dark.

Principal Coleman began announcing all of the names of the class of 1986. Robin was the first of the group to cross the stage. Everyone in her row was whistling in shouting in congratulations. The sudden applause caused her to stumble a bit as she walked off stage, but she recovered quickly. Jonathan followed next, a small smile on his face as his mother and brother applauded him within the crowd.

Y/N was patiently waiting for Eddie's name to be called. With each passing student her heartbeat faster in her chest. She debated about whether it was appropriate given Nancy's speech, but she had already come this far. There was no turning back. She just hoped Eddie would like it, it would be mortifying if he didn't.

"Are you guys ready?" Y/N asked, her palms sweating as she gripped her pom poms in hand. They all nodded their heads, the time was quickly approaching.

"Eddie Munson"

As soon as his name was called Y/N stood up and moved out of her row. Eddie was about to walk on stage when he noticed her there, eyes wide with shock to see her in her old uniform. The same uniform she wore when she was a student at Hawkins High. With the biggest smile she could manage, Y/N began her yell.

"Let's go Eddie! Let's go!"

She had clapped her pom poms twice, crossed her arms before raising them up again. The same cheers she did at every basketball game.

"Let's go Eddie! Let's go!"

With every word all of her friends raised up their signs. Steve at the head with Lets, Dustin after him with Go, and Will, Mike, El, Lucas, and Max, holding up each letter of his name; spelling out the cheer she shouted in the auditorium.

"Let's go Eddie! Let's go!"

His entire face lit up as she cheered. Eddie looked at her, all of his friends, the people he loves more than anything else in the world, shouting his name with astonishment. He knew they'd all be there, but this was something he never expected. Principal Coleman had to call his name twice before he finally made his way on to the stage. Eddie rushed through the handshake with the Principal, grabbed his diploma, and immediately raced down stage again. The graduation cap on his head fell to the floor as he ran to Y/N in the center aisle. He opened his arms out wide and grabbed her by the waist, spinning around in a circle with a big toothy grin. She abandoned her pom poms, too focused on hugging the man she loves in return.

"Did you like my cheer baby?" Y/N asked in between her fits of giggles.

"Totally worth the six years I've spent here to see that, sweetheart"

After the brief reprimand from Principal Coleman for disrupting the ceremony, Eddie left her to return to his seat. The rest of graduation went smoothly, filled with cheers and applause. Y/N snuck out after all of the graduates threw their caps into the air, returning to her car to grab the present she made for Eddie.

She waited outside of Eddie's van, present in hand, for everyone to come out of the high school. Y/N could see some students and their parents walking towards the cars, but there was no sign of Eddie just yet. Knowing him, he was probably talking to everyone else inside wondering where she was. After a few moments she finally spotted that familiar mop of long brown hair, it was time.

She yelled his name from the other side of the parking lot. Just like when he got off stage, Eddie raced over to her. His graduation gown fluttering in the wind like Superman's cape.

“Congrats Grad!” Y/N shouted as he ran over to his beloved van. Eddie didn't hesitate to pick her up and sit her on the hood. He stood between her legs and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, the tip of his graduation cap pressing against her forehead.

"Why thank you my fair lady, you know I couldn't have done it without you" Eddie was playing with the seem of her skirt, the one that was much too short to be appropriate for practice.

"I'm sure that's not true" Y/N had offered to help him with his studies once he got out of the hospital, but he shot her down. All of his success was his doing and she was all the more proud of him for it.

"Of course it is sweetheart. If you weren't there to support me, be there for me, I would have never crossed that stage today" Eddie began, his hand traveling up under her skirt, "it would have been such a shame if I didn't. I would have never been graced to you in this uniform again cheering my name. Do you think I could get a repeat performance later tonight?" There was no denying what he meant, the wolfish grin and the hand on her ass was a dead give away.

"Easy there tiger, no fraternization on school property"

"But I'm not a student anymore, aren't I?" Eddie didn't give her a chance to speak before he kissed her again. His tongue slowly entering her mouth with a groan. It pained her to pull him away from her, but she knew if they continued she would never be able to hold herself together.

"No you're not, but don't you want to open the present I got you?" Y/N said as she waved the small box in front of Eddie's face. He looked at the small box in her palms, the brown paper folded neatly at the corners with a wax seal at the top. There was writing in a language he quickly recognized in the top corner in black ink, the letters swooping and interloping in a beautiful style of calligraphy.

"Baby... You didn't" Eddie said in awe as she placed the present in his waiting hands.

"I did. Now open it up, see what's inside"

Eddie gently undid the wax seal connecting the paper together, not wanting to risk ripping her hard work. Inside was a cassette tape, the cover decorated with the same art on his Hellfire Club t-shirts. Y/N had asked Will to paint it for her, she didn't want to mess up the design with her horrible art skills. Eddie flipped the other side to find a list of all the songs on the tape.

"Sweetheart..." he held the tape like it was something precious, a bar of gold rather than some cheap plastic. Eddie read over each line on the cassette over and over again as if it contained all the secrets of the universe within. A sense of déjà vu washed over them both. When Y/N thought about what to give Eddie for his graduation present, this was the only thing she wanted to do. The mixtape he made for her 2 years to the day was her most prized possession, he put his heart and soul into that tape and she wanted to do the same. This time, it was without any pretense. Every song she picked was tailored to her experience with him. It was the soundtrack of their love.

"Well? Do you like it?" Y/N asked after a moment. Eddie looked up at her, his eyes wet and glassy. She instantly knew he understood her message loud and clear.

"Like it? Y/N, shit, this is the greatest gift I've ever been given" he wrapped his arms tightly around her, pressing sweet kisses all over her face, "I love it so much sweetheart, there aren't even words in any language real or fictional to explain it. I'm gonna listen to this everyday until the ribbon inside is torn to shreds"

"I'm so glad you like it Eds, I love you" Y/N held his grinning face in her hands and pulled him in for another kiss. Eddie returned it in kind. She felt as if everything had fallen into place in that moment. Vecna was gone, Eddie had finally graduated high school, and now she was back on track at Notre Dame. After months of trials and tribulations, it was all over. It was like she could finally take a deep breathe again, fill her lungs with oxygen and swallow the gentle air Eddie let out between each touch of their lips.

"I love you too sweetheart"

"Ya know, since we're both going to be in Hawkins for awhile..." Y/N didn't get to finish the end of her sentence. The chorus of complaints from Steve's BMW interrupted their moment. They were all heading to Enzo's for dinner that evening, all to celebrate their friends' achievements. It was Y/N's idea. It was the same tradition she had with her sister after every major event. Whether if it was for dance recitals, gymnastics tournaments, or academic accomplishments, they always went to Enzo's. Sometimes their parents joined, other times it was just the two girls. Y/N wanted to carry on the tradition with her new family, the one she found for herself.

Y/N hopped off the hood of the van and hopped inside the passenger seat, Eddie following closely behind. He opened up the cassette tape and popped it into radio. The campy melodies from the Rocky Horror Picture Show filled their ears as Eddie drove out the parking lot. Y/N lowered the window down and watched as the woods behind the Hawkins High slowly disappeared from view. The rain from this morning had finally cleared away, leaving a bright sunny day in its wake. In the distance, Y/N could see a large rainbow over skies of Hawkins. She couldn't help but think it was a sign from Chrissy. That maybe somewhere her sister was looking out for her, letting her know that she was okay, that Y/N would be okay too.

Ever since she passed, Y/N thought about Chrissy finding her somewhere over the rainbow.

It wasn't until that moment Y/N realized she had found her own.

[judeswhore]

ruined your night - mason mount

prompt number 14 from the halloween series “i think there’s someone downstairs” for @wintersoldierwhore

flashbacks to mason getting scared on the stairs

When Mason had told you he was too tired to go to a Halloween party and had asked you instead to spend the night at his place you thought he meant the two of you would just watch horror movies and maybe have a few drinks. You’d done that, for maybe two hours, but then Mason’s hands had started to wander.

His touches had been fairly innocent at first. Soft caresses on your arm, until he’d started to brush his thumb further and further up your thigh until it was beneath your shorts and toying with the band of your underwear. So you’d somehow found yourself completely naked in the middle of Mason’s bed, his smirk practically branded behind your eyelids.

“Missed you.” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, fingers skimming down your side. He was torturing you with slow steady kisses, his mouth paying extra attention to every part of your body but the parts that were screaming at him to hurry up. Your body felt tight with need, your skin turning feverish beneath his.

“You saw me yesterday.” You breathed out, fingers sliding into the soft strands of his hair so you could grip and find some sort of composure. Not that it worked when Mason’s soft lips travelled down between your boobs, tongue darting out teasingly when he nipped at your skin.

“I mean, I missed you. Missed having you like this, missed seeing you squirm and beg.” He glanced up at you through his eyelashes, a taunting smirk on his lips.

“I’m not begging.”

“The way you keep tugging at my hair says otherwise, sweetheart.” You expected him to move his kisses lower, but instead he followed that same trail back up. Mason was a tease in all aspects of life and it just got even worse in the bedroom but this was a new level even for him, especially when it had been a little over two weeks since the last time he’d had you.

His mouth was back on yours within seconds, his hand sliding to press lightly against your throat, the small amount of pressure already having your body arching into his. You’d started to move your hands down Mason’s body, fingers delving into the dips and ridges of his muscles. You thought you were going to get away with finally touching him but Mason had shook his head, fingers squeezing around your throat.

“Hands on the headboard.” You pouted your lips at him, seconds away from throwing a tantrum over the way he’s acting.

“But Mase-“ You’d cut yourself off, hands stilling as you cocked your head to one side. You could have sworn you heard a door shut downstairs.

“Hands on the-“

“Shh.” Your pressed your finger against his lips, effectively shutting him up for a second as you listened and there it was again, the soft sound of footsteps and doors being opened. “I think there’s someone downstairs.” Mason’s hands slid from your body when you pushed yourself into a sitting position, your eyes trained on the closed bedroom door behind him.

Mason sat back on his heels, following your gaze. “I don’t think-“ The sound of no doubt one of Mason’s countless trophies being knocked onto the floor had him cutting himself off, gaze darting to yours. “I locked everywhere up.”

“What if you have a stalker.”

“I don’t have a stalker.”

“How do you know? Might be a really secretive one who’s come to sniff your underwear.” Another door closed, this time what sounded like a kitchen cupboard and you were suddenly scrambling off Mason’s bed, eyes searching for your clothes but coming up unsuccessful. Of course, because Mason didn’t want to wait until he got upstairs before he started undressing you. “Great, now your stalker is going to be sniffing my underwear.”

Mason had pushed himself off the bed and was pulling a pair of boxers up his legs, the tent in them still pretty much evident. He sent you a glare across the room.

“I don’t have a stalker. Put one of my shirts on.” The house was suddenly silent again but you were quick to cover yourself in one of Mason’s shirts and a pair of his boxers. He’d grabbed one of the trophies he had sitting on a shelf and was reaching for the door handle.

“Fuck, what if we’re about to get murdered.” You hissed as he pried open the bedroom door, slowly stepping out into the hallway. There was a slight shuffling from downstairs as though someone was moving across the carpet. “Oh God, Mase, what if it’s Slenderman?”

“Why the fuck would it be Slenderman?” You followed behind Mason, your hand clutching at his arm, heart feeling like it was about to burst from your chest.

“Because we just watched it.” You whined, grip on him tightening. “And now he’s come to get us too. This is all your fault! If weren’t so pretty you wouldn’t have a stalker and we wouldn’t be about to die.”

“(Y/N), be quiet we aren’t about to die.” Mason stopped at the top of his stairs so abruptly you slammed against his back with a squeak. “The TV is on.”

“What?” As Mason made his way down the stairs, careful not to step on the creaky ones, you spotted the TV playing softly in the living room, some Netflix film rolling on the screen.

From Mason’s stairs you can see straight into the living room and dining room but the kitchen is around the back of the staircase so with both of you too busy staring ahead you forgot every rule about murderers sneaking up on you and completely missed the man coming from the side of the stairs.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Your scream could have shattered all the windows in Mason’s house and his wasn’t much better. The two of you almost fell from the steps as you spun around, Mason’s brother staring at you like you’d gone mad.

Mason had raised the trophy, ready to whack over the intruders head but quickly let it drop when he saw Lewis. You pressed your hand to your heart, willing it to slow down before you gave yourself a heart attack. “Were you gonna hit me with that?” Lewis pointed at the metal in Mason’s hand.

“Bro what the fuck?”

“What?”

“We thought you were some weird stalker!”

“Hello, (Y/N).” You glared at him, your legs feeling a little like jelly.

“Why would you think that? I’ve been staying here for the past three days. I told Mason I’d be back tonight a little later than usual.” It was time to glare at your boyfriend then and you whacked you hand against his arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mount? You knew he was gonna be here and you let me think I was about to die? You didn’t even mention he was staying!” Mason’s look had turned sheepish, his cheeks and ears turning red and Lewis had barked out a laugh.

“I forgot.”

“Did you really think you were about to get murdered?” Lewis found the entire situation hilarious and appeared to be trying his hardest not to pass out from laughing.

“Mason has tonnes of people following him around it wouldn’t have been a far off shot. And you,” You jabbed your finger into Mason’s chest. “How the hell do your just “forget” your brother was staying over and would be home tonight? When you heard someone downstairs why didn’t it register in that tiny brain of yours “oh yeah Lewis is home”?” Mason’s cheeks turned even redder if possible, his eyes darting from Lewis to you, dropping down to your bare legs before darting back up again.

“Well.. I was distracted. I wasn’t exactly thinking about Lewis.” This got a scoff from his brother.

“Yeah I should fucking hope not, might want to undress your girlfriend in your room next time you have guests, Mase.” Your glowered even more at both of the men in front of you, arms crossed defensively over your chest. “You should have seen your faces though, man. Priceless! God you were sneaking around here like some sort of MI5 agents.”

“You’re both idiots. That wasn’t funny.”

“It was pretty funny from where I was standing.” You pulled a face at Lewis.

“You’re lucky he didn’t smack you with that trophy.” You grumbled before turning on your heel. “I’m going to bed, Lewis, just so you know, I’m gonna get you back.” You threw one last glare at Mason that has his lips turning in a pout.

“Baby..” You’d already made it to the top of the stairs but just before you were out of ear shot you heard Lewis’s chuckle and whispered.

“Bro, that just ruined your night, you’re so not getting any from her.” Followed by a thump and a groan that despite your still pounding heart had you grinning.

[progg]

Chapter 393 Breakdown

Here are my thoughts on Chapter 393 of Hunter x Hunter, “Plea”.

393 starts off with a bang. I didn’t expect Luini to die so quickly, but I had a feeling his power would play some part in his death, resulting in him being severed in half or trapped. Such a death would be consistent with the horror atmosphere of the Succession Arc. Lo and behold, Luini did indeed suffer a gruesome fate.

Interestingly, the Troupe—at least, Nobunaga, Phinks, and Feitan—seem to defer their search for the treasure in favor of crushing the Hei-ly. Looks like they’re going to leave the hideout too, which should be beneficial for Ken’i.

Next, we get a look into Morena’s followers, including a series of character introductions. We don’t get quite as much for these characters as we did for the trio in 391, but this is still a masterclass in writing. Creating a cast of characters this wide and this unique (in such a short amount of time) is not easy and is, in my opinion, further proof of the Hunter x Hunter’s quality.

We also learn a bit more about Morena’s ability. At first, I thought Contagion allowed for Nen users to gain an additional ability, but it seems infected followers can only learn abilities from their Nen category. It’s sort of like a Nen teaching ability that awakens a person’s aura nodes when they reach level 21. If this is the case, the situation of Morena’s followers closely mirrors that of Kurapika in Tier 1. Several people suspect Kurapika of having a Nen ability specifically designed around teaching Nen.

Without Luini, Morena’s followers are left scrambling for much-needed levels. Voconte, one of Morena’s followers, offers to use his ability as a trap (this will come up again at the end of the chapter). Soon after, Tevelares and Quorolle return from the fight against Hinrigh and warn about the Xi-Yu underboss’s ability.

Gelato joins them as they ask Morena herself for guidance. Morena seems to be very knowledgeable in Nen.

The scene changes, and we’re reunited with Lynch and Zakuro, who have awoken after being knocked out by Hisoka. Apparently, Hisoka told Zakuro he was “going to see a movie”. Along with Hinrigh, the duo head to the cineplex, where they ultimately decide to break off and search for Chrollo (more on this later).

The conversation between Hisoka and Hinrigh is awesome. However, instead of discussing the details of the conversation, I’m going to address the elephant in the room. In my last breakdown, I raised the possibility that the Hisoka in Chapter 392 was not actually Hisoka. I was kind of testing the waters there, since I know a lot of people really want to see one of their favorite characters return. After 393, I can no longer afford to be noncommittal. This is almost certainly not Hisoka.

There are already some theories being tossed around about this, but I want to focus on the more tangible reasons Hisoka is a fake. The first is one I alluded to in my previous breakdown: Lynch’s question never went through. In fact, fake Hisoka has been asked three times about his identity and has never answered!

It’s a classic writing tactic to have characters ask questions the readers should be asking themselves. “Is this really Hisoka?” is absolutely a question Togashi wanted us to be asking.

Secondly, there’s a very telling reference in this chapter that I missed on my first read.

The banner in this panel is a reference to The Thing (1982). 

If you haven’t seen this movie, I highly recommend it, even if you aren’t a horror fan. It’s a fantastic film, but more importantly, it’s centered around a hostile alien with the ability to mimic human speech and form.

The fact that Togashi chose to include this reference here of all places is enough to convince me Hisoka is a fake. I think Chrollo is a very interesting candidate for the imposter, and I’ve seen many posts that detailing possible pieces of evidence. But it’s also important to think about what comes after such a reveal.

Zakuro and Lynch were so scared by Hisoka (Chrollo) that they decided to look for Chrollo instead. This is downright hilarious to me and not out of character for Togashi. Chrollo heading to Tier 1 also has major implications; he may run into Kurapika or Hisoka there, before the rest of the Troupe. Finally, masquerading as Hisoka can (and perhaps already did) give him inside information regarding the Xi-Yu’s plans. The mafia families are secretly planning to eliminate the Phantom Troupe to preserve balance. However, they would potentially share that plan with Hisoka.

The information warfare occuring aboard the Black Whale, coupled with multiple fake-out deaths, causes us to doubt almost everything presented to us. As Kurapika says, “with Nen, what you see is not necessarily the truth” (something that’s rehashed in the Theta-Tserriednich plot). It’s that persistent doubt that contributes to the horror atmosphere of the Succession Arc.

After the conversation between Hinrigh and Hisoka, we join Ken’i as he speaks to Corporal Maizan (the corrupt guard from 392). Ken’i quickly deduces the arrangement between Maizan and Hinrigh and offers to make the payment himself. He also emphasizes Morena’s status as a “second-liner” or “faker”, who should normally be loyal to the crown (as Onior and Brocco supposedly are), but has gone “rogue”.

Legality—or rather, approval from the crown—seems to be important here.

Not sure if I’ve discussed this before, but one of Togashi’s greatest artistic strengths is his facial expressions. You can probably remember some panels that exemplify this, but one of my favorite examples is the one of Oito here:

Togashi’s facial expressions have so much nuance he can convey complex emotions with undeniable clarity, or make your skin crawl with a smile. I think he knows this and is showing off with Ken’i.

Ken’i, Hinrigh, and Maizan head to the alleged location of Morena’s hideout, room 3101. The room is among the first-class cabins, and we’re reminded of the class divide on the ship. It’s also part of Voconte’s trap ability that was hinted at earlier in the chapter. One of Morena’s followers, an elderly man, is in the room (humorously repeating the phrase “anyway, I didn’t do anything wrong so please come in”).

Maizan disappears immediately upon entering, shocking Hinrigh and Ken’i. Hinrigh asks the man to instead come to them, throwing a knife toward him and remarking on the fact that it, unlike Maizan, did not disappear. This room is a clear parallel to room 1013, Prince Marayam’s chambers, and the discussion about Nen boundaries (see Chapter 375).

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

[forever-rogue]

Hello! Just read your Boba x pregnant reader fic and oh boy, if you've got the time and the inclination, I'd love another installment! Maybe expand on your line: "If you thought he was protective over you before, then you were in for something else." Protectiveness is my jam and I'd really enjoy seeing what Boba might do if someone threatened/kidnapped/endangered the person carrying his child... You're the best! ❤️❤️

Oh, I love, love, love the idea of protective Boba 🥺 I hope you enjoy! 

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader ; warnings: pregnancy

Can be read as a standalone or a companion piece to these -> Part 1, Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Boba," you turned on your heel and huffed at your husband, finding him underfoot once again. You'd asked him about a million times to give you space and alone time, but apparently your Mandalorian didn't know what either of those things were. All you had wanted to do was make some cookies in peace and quiet, "I think I can handle making cookies. Alone."

"I just think it's better for you to have someone around," he said gruffly, a little smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth, "what if something happened?"

"Oh, you silly man," you huffed at him before taking your dish towel and swatting him away, "what in the maker forsaken galaxy is going to happen? I'm baking - not chasing after some sort of quarry!"

"The baby-"

"If anything were to happen," you finished mixing the dough before raising a brow as Boba tried to dip a finger in and take a scoop, "someone would be close by and I could call out to them. It wouldn't be a problem and nothing will go wrong if I'm alone for ten minutes. Now stop eating all of my dough."

"Cyare," he quickly pulled out his hand and instead settled it on your small bump. You had seemingly popped overnight, your pregnancy not easily noticeable before. But now? It was clearly evident and Boba seemed to have only become more protective, "I want to keep you both safe."

"I know," you whispered as you put your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, "and you've done an amazing job. But you have so much to think about already, don't let this worry you too."

"I lost you once and I am not letting it happen again," he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sighed contentedly before resting your hand on his cheek, "if that means staying by your side, I will do it."

"I understand that," you promised him, "but I need some room to breathe too. And, on top of that, no one is going to mess with Boba Fett's wife. They know better."

"I-"

"Boba," you took a step back and slowly started to push him away and out of the kitchen, "give me some space and let me finish the cookies. That's all I'm asking for right now...if I need you, I'll call. Please?"

"Fine," he huffed lightly as he pressed a kiss to your lips before reluctantly leaving, "I call dibs on the cookies!"

 »»————-　♡　————-««

You might have gotten some alone time that day, finishing off your cookies in peace but after that...it wasn't much better. At least on Boba’s end; maker, you loved every man she was amazing in every way, but he was borderline over protective. In reality, you didn't mind - the fact that your husband was fawning over you and your unborn child was endearing. 

You'd only snapped at him a few times here and there when the hormones got to be too much, and you couldn't help but explode. Luckily, Boba was a smart enough man to give you some spaces during those moments. He always tried to make it up to you with some sort of treat, usually whatever you were craving at the moment.

But as you progressed in your pregnancy and your belly continued to grow and swell, he only got worse. Some days you weren’t sure how you even managed to go to the ‘fresher alone. Some days you wondered why he got so intensely protective; there had been no issues throughout your pregnancy and the baby was healthy and active. Oh so active, sometimes it felt like they were doing somersaults in your belly, restless and therefore causing you to be restless as well. One thing you did know was that the movement always increased when Boba was around. 

As soon as the baby seemed to hear Boba’s voice, the excited kicking and moving started. The first time it had taken you by surprise, but now you were well prepared for it. The look on Boba’s face when you had grabbed his hand and pressed it to your belly so he could experience the sensation had been priceless. At first he had been taken aback, shock and awe crept into his features, before the biggest and brightest smile ever tugged on his lips. It was nothing short of pure adoration as his dark eyes softened and he gently kissed you, whispering words of love into your ear.  

It was after that he made it a practice, when you were tucked and laying together in bed, to keep a hand on your belly as he spoke and sang softly to your unborn child. It easily became one of your favorite parts of the day - your whole world was there, tucked safely under warm, plush blankets.

You knew why he got like this, why he was so careful and protective over you. For how gruff and tough he could appear, he was a gentle, calm man underneath it all. He was a good man, he only wanted the best for his people - you and your unborn children first and foremost. 

Boba Fett had lost everything that mattered to him multiple times in his life, having to start over and pick up the pieces more than once. First it was when he lost his father as a boy, then when he lost you and almost his life, and now? He was never going to let it happen again. He would do whatever it took to keep you safe, healthy, and happy. And you loved that about him, because you would do the same for him. Just as he’d lost you - you’d lost him too. And you weren’t leaving his side ever again. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was a warm summer day, nearing the end of your pregnancy, when you’d decided to go and check out one of the open air markets to see what kind of wares and exotic fruits and treats were available.

Boba, of course, accompanied you, further flanked by his own retinue. His hand was on the small of your back or wrapped around your waist almost the entire time as you examined everything. Despite his protective nature, he was able to enjoy himself as well, a smile almost never leaving his face.

At one point, as he busied him with talking to one of the stall owners, you grew thirsty and hungry. Boba was so enraptured in his own conversation that he didn't notice you slip from his side as you wandered back to one of the stalls you had spotted earlier. 

The market was busy and bustling, and there were a few times you had to side step people to pass by. Most people were kind enough to make room for you, but of course, as always, there were some people that didn't care and just remained rooted in their spots.

"Excuse me," you kept your voice polite and calm as you tried to pass by a particularly gruff looking man. If he heard you he didn't do anything to indicate and remained turned away from you as he carried on in his conversation. A sigh escaped your lips as you tried not to grow irritated - but you were hungry, tired and pregnant. You tapped his arm, this time deciding to be more bold, "excuse me."

"Kriff off," he jerked out of your touch and almost knocked you over from the force of his movement, "go around girl."

"I can't," you huffed, indicating all the people around you before pointing at your belly, "I just need to slip by real quick."

"Too bad," he reached over and to try and push you back out of the way, but before he could get too far, and a hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, twisting his arm sharply.

"Don't even think about it," Boba’s voice was laced with venom as he stared the man down. He was in his full armor, presenting a menacing picture as the dark T of his helmet was trained on the man, "touch her and it will be the last thing you ever do."

A look of pure horror crossed the man's face as he realized who Boba was. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish out of water, trying to figure out what to say that could get him out of this situation.

"I-I-I didn't mean to," he stammered nervously as you just offered him a small smile, "I didn't know she was…"

"My wife? It does not matter who she is- you will never touch her again, nor will you ever touch anyone else," Boba's voice was low and predatory as he tilted his head in question at the man. He quickly nodded before mumbling out a few incoherent words, "now leave and don't let me see your face again."

"Y-yes," as soon as he could pull his arm out of Boba’s grasp, he started to quickly run away, wearing his way through the crowd.

You turned to look at him, an amused and thankful expression on your own face. He put his hands on either side of your face as he looked you over to make sure you were safe and sound. Nodding at his silent question, you pressed your forehead against his helmet, "I'm okay….you came just in time."

"You were supposed to stay by my side, Cyare," he whispered so only you could hear as you gave him a sheepish smile, "what if something had happened and I wasn't there?"

"Thank the Maker you were," you said softly, "you were so into your conversation and I didn't want to interrupt and I got so thirsty and hungry so I just...went."

"Oh my sweet girl," he sighed softly, "please just be careful. If something had happened-"

"But it didn't," you reassured him, "and it won't. I know you'll always protect me, Boba - protect us."

"Always," he promised, "come on - let's get you out of here and find you something to eat and drink."

"That sounds perfect," you agreed, as he slipped your hand into his, a warmth washing over you as he laced your fingers together. Almost as if the baby could feel what you were sensing, the fluttering and movement in your belly picking up. You halted for a moment as Boba gave you a concerned look that you quickly shut down as put his hand on your help, “the baby’s happy too. Happy that they’ve got the best father - you.”

“I am the lucky one,” he insisted softly, “for I have the two best things in the galaxy right here, and that is more than I could ever deserve.”

“Don’t say that Boba,” you hushed him, “you deserve everything in the galaxy, and I am lucky to be loved by you and at your side. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“How could I?” he whispered gently, “you always remind me. I love you, Cyare.”

“We love you too, Boba,” you reached over and gently lifted his helmet to reveal his lips, giving him a soft kiss as he smiled against you, “always and forever.”

“Always and forever.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[bloodredx]

Day 30: Fun (Free Choice)

Pleasure is something worth pursuing. There are few risks worth the costs of a good time that do not enrich existence in some measurable facet. For even making a mistake or causing harm can again inspire all sorts of critical outcomes or learning capabilities in even the most basic of situations. Animals do enjoy games, and often pranks upon it. These are exercises in experience, in a safe status. One in which the real horrors of violence are nothing but visions for the future. To cut teeth on survival. To be build capacity under the guise of entertainment.

So too, there are no flaws in the prospects of simply finding enjoyment in just being. Sitting in the moment, observational qualities that too overshadow possibilities of infinite joy. For mere entertainment is something this form takes hold of quite firmly. If nothing else matters, then the echoes of pleasant times should float freely on the breeze, carrying what lightness memories can in the darkness. Happiness is fleeting, therefore precious. Life is fleeting, and therefore precious. What parts of thine own self can be considered anything less. The tragedy remains, as the Song draws closer to the end, or perhaps the al coda, that the more temporary the result, the more flexible one must be in the execution. This form should be grateful to have held this enjoyment it has. For nothing else comes close in consideration. And nothing else shall return, once all has come around.

--

The last of the day’s songbirds had just quieted for the evening, leaving the creatures of the night plenty of course to sing their sweet melodies into the fading twilight. The bubbling of the fountain behind her was plenty distraction enough for her swirling thoughts. A new headache, and new series of problems to sort through with a delicate hand. And as such, the reminder of a delicate hand was needed. The shears between her fingers aimed specifically to cut through the decaying leaves of her precious roses. Ancient, as she was, and attempting their best to overtake her courtyard. Certainly their dominance would not be denied, but much like herself, could be molded into the perfection and poise needed. A few snips, and the offending leaves removed and collected into the compost bin.

Occasional rustling through the leaves alerted her to the struggling hands of her ward, his brows furrowed as he failed to slip loops of twine along the trellis. Frustration was boiling, that much was evident as the twine began splintering to threads more with each attempt. She snorted to herself, just soft enough to keep it from ear shot. Serena inspected her work a moment, then once satisfied, she locked her shears and made the few steps past the fountain to the trellises silently. “Icarus?” Her voice shattered the silence, forcing him to jump.

“W-what?! Huh?” His neck swiveled back, casting an angry glare back at her. One that quickly softened to fear just as quickly.

“You seem to be struggling.” Not a question, a blanket statement. One that hid the amusement behind her eyes. Something of a reflection was pooling in his eyes, Serena seeing bits of herself lingering in the pale green hues. “Is something the matter?”

His fingers absently unraveled the frayed edges the twine in his hands, chewing on a thought before parting his lips. “Honestly?”

“I am not inclined to encourage you lying, so yes.”

Indecision ran rampant in his eyes for a moment, before settling on a decision. “Is this what you consider fun? Like, standing out here and playing with weeds, I don’t know how you stand it?”

Serena took a shallow breath. “It’s a hobby. Something that I’ve always done. Perhaps it brings me back to center. Quiets the mind.”

When no anger or disappointment flashed across her face, he dared to press a little further. “I don’t think this is right for me. I know there’s only so much to be done here, it’s a hospital not an amusement park. I know that. But still. I can’t imagine how you haven’t driven yourself mad with the monotony.”

“It is anything but monotony, let me assure you.” She motioned for him to follow, walking back to the small storage shed, passing the flowers with a soft spring in her step. “Tasks are ever changing, sure. Despite my better desires, even I must take a step back from work and wind down. Gardening is just the easiest. It’s always here, and always needs to be done. Not so much a chore.”

Stepping into the shed, Serena put away her tools and equipment, taking the twine from Icarus’s hands and bidding him to follow her into its depths. “Of course,” She continued. “Weather may get the best of me, or perhaps nothing needs to immediately be completed. So my mind will turn to other things. Painting for one. If that’s something you’d like to try, I can certainly arrange for that. But one thing more practical might be this.”

A combination lock sat guard over a chest, to which she quickly entered the code and opened the lid, freeing its contents from the confinement. Pleasure lurked in her eyes as she stooped down and collected her prizes, a pair of fencing foils. The swords, not sharp, gleamed silver in the low light. She tilted both in her hands a moment, before handing the left one to Icarus, who took it with hesitation. “I don’t understand?”

“You asked me what I enjoy for fun, correct?” A hint of mischief entered her voice. “One of the joys of your arrival, Icarus, is that I now have a new sparring partner.”

(OC-tober challenge by @oc-tober2022 can be found here.)