#those three days of rotting away at my desk paid off let’s fucking go

[merriclo]

I GOT AN A ON MY PSYCH TEST 🔥🔥🔥

[snowdice]

There Are Things That Are Missing (Part 6 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?), Virgil & Patton (?)

Characters: Logan, Virgil

Summary: 

Virgil and Logan take a trip to the hardware store during the zombie apocalypse. Something’s missing here...

Virgil cursed. “Ugh, I hate this. I shouldn’t have come. The lost hoodie was an omen.”

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), It’s a zombie AU and Patton is a Zombie. Angst.

This is the sixth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton? 

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

Logan indulged in a moment to himself after he left the room with the cage but before he went upstairs. It never got any easier. None of it did. Not the cage or the lifelessness in Patton’s eyes or Logan’s existence in a world where Patton never laughed or smiled. Patton used to laugh at everything: things Logan said and the silly movies he liked to watch; he often used to send himself into cascades of tinkling giggles over his own senseless jokes.

And now he didn’t.

Logan shook himself and continued his walk back upstairs where Virgil was waiting for him. He gave him one of those pitying looks that Logan appreciated a lot less today than he did most days.

Logan was irritable. He knew he was irritable. Yet that irritability went beyond the fact that they’d been trapped inside for the past few months or that his house had seemed to spring an elusive leak that was rotting out a corner of his living room. No, those were all mundane irritants that Logan could accept as facts of life. What was causing his emotional distress was what was always causing his emotional distress these days.

Logan had been keeping a secret from Virgil. He tried to justify it to himself by reasoning that the only person who could get hurt from it was Logan himself, but he knew that was a falsehood. Logan knew that if he himself came to harm, not only would it affect Virgil emotionally seeing as Logan was literally his only friend in the world, but it would vastly affect Virgil’s ability to survive as he would be left alone. So really, Logan had no excuse for his recklessness.

A few months ago, they had decided that there was really no point to keeping Patton tied up all of the time. It had been nice, almost. He seemed to like his freedom in whatever way he liked things anymore. Of course, Logan had always been careful to restrain him when they both slept. There was no telling what stumbling over a sleeping prey animal would do to Patton’s instincts. So, he had been diligent… until two weeks ago. It had simply been an unintentional error. He’d had a migraine late in the day and had laid down in his room in the dark. At some point, he’d heard Patton wander in but hadn’t paid it much mind. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep but fall asleep he had. Logan had woken in the morning to Patton in bed with him for the first time in close to 2 years.

It had been an accident.

The first time.

His behavior was absolutely stupid and shameful. Logan was well aware of this, but god were the couple of moments of obliviousness in the morning worth the guilt and self-loathing that would come crashing back to him when the world came back into focus.

“Come on,” Logan said without meeting Virgil’s eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

He and Virgil made their way outside and started towards the Home Depot in town with barely a word between them. One benefit of having Patton upstairs was that both of them were practiced in behavior that was least likely to trigger a zombie’s predatory senses. They were both well versed in silent communication methods and less agitating approaches to movement. The trip was easy, and they only saw three zombies on the way, none of which even noticed them.

They were able to make it through what had once been an employee entrance side door with a surprising lack of effort. Logan could see Virgil growing tense as they transversed the empty building. “This is creepy as hell,” Virgil said, pitching his quiet voice down. Logan had to agree; he didn’t like how their footsteps echoed. Though he had not anticipated the store being full to the brim as it was likely not as occupied by people during the onset of the outbreak as say hospitals, schools, and grocery stores, Logan still expected there to be someone dead here.

“I’m going to check,” he told Virgil.

“Check?” Virgil asked. “What the fuck do you mean ‘check’?”

In answer, Logan hopped up on top of the store’s help desk.

“Oh, fuck, please, no,” Virgil begged even as he scrambled onto the desk next to him and stood with his back to Logan’s. “Can’t we just do this stealthy and run away?”

“It’s better to know what we are dealing with than to be surprised,” Logan reasoned. “Besides, we’re here for timber. Exactly how stealthy do you anticipate that being?”

Virgil cursed. “Ugh, I hate this. I shouldn’t have come. The lost hoodie was an omen.”

“You lose your hoodie weekly,” Logan commented dryly, and then, without giving time for further argument, whistled sharply, similar to how Virgil had drawn Patton to the basement door earlier that day. It echoed loudly through the cement structure.

They both listened in complete silence for anything: movement somewhere, harsh breathing, or moaning. Anything. But nothing came.

“Odd,” Logan mumbled.

“I don’t trust it,” Virgil hissed.

Logan whistled again and they waited, but nothing shambled from the store aisles.

“Oh god,” Virgil said. “I really don’t trust this.”

“Perhaps it was closed during the outbreak and no one was here.”

“Right, because I’m a lucky person.”

“You are still alive,” Logan pointed out. “Luckier than most.”

“Fuck. Thanks. That one helped.”

Logan hopped down from the help desk and Virgil followed after him. “You are rather more anxious without the hoodie,” Logan observed.

“Are you sure it’s not the perfect horror movie set in an empty hardware store post zombie apocalypse?” he asked dryly.

Logan just shook his head. “Come on, let’s go.” Logan could still see Virgil being ever vigilant behind him, turning his head to get a peek down aisles and walking backwards sometimes. Virgil was useful for these types of things. Logan trusted him to notice anything off (including sometimes when there wasn’t anything off, but it was better than the alternative) so Logan was able to focus on the objective.

They made it to a more open location in the middle of the store and they both stopped. “That would explain it,” Logan mumbled.

“Oh fuck,” Virgil said. “it’s a camp. I knew we shouldn’t have gone on this stupid mission without my lucky hoodie.”

Logan studied the little camp. “It doesn’t look like they’re here anymore. They likely buckled down for the winter and moved on now that it’s warmer.”

“But what if they didn’t?” Virgil asked. “What if they’re a bunch of murderers that escaped from a prison and decided since zombies exist that it’s okay for them to be cannibals?”

Logan just gave him a bland look. “Anyway, let’s go get the wood and go home.”

“No, but Logan,” Virgil said following him. “What if they’re like, around?”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “I know that sometimes it may seem that we are the only people alive on the planet, but that is more than likely false. There are going to be living people around sometimes and likely, the majority of them are not murders. You don’t need to freak out.”

“Anyone who survived in this hellscape has to be batshit or a murderer or both.”

“We’re alive.”

“Yeah, and we let your dead boyfriend wander the house, so what’s your point?”

“This is a pointless discussion as they aren’t here. I would be surprised if they are even in the town anymore. Let’s just focus on the objective unless you like living in a home with moldy carpet?”

Virgil shifted nervously on his feet.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Perhaps we should stop by the small clothing section and see if there is anything hoodie like. That way you’ll have two comfort items in case you lose one.”

Virgil shook his head. ��It’s a lucky hoodie,” he stressed. “I can’t just replace it.”

Logan scoffed. “If it’s so important, you should keep better track of it.”

“I don’t mean to lose it!” Virgil said hotly.

“Are you certain?” Logan asked. “Because evidence seems to indicate otherwise.”

“Screw your evidence,” Virgil muttered. Logan hid a smile as he continued to walk towards where he knew the supplies he needed should be assuming whoever had made camp here had not moved anything. He was glad the distraction worked to take Virgil’s mind off the “murderer cannibals” in the city. He was still alert at Logan’s back but the lines around his brow had softened a bit.

The stock of timber had been depleted, likely burned for heat. However, Logan was still able to find what he was looking for easily enough. Whoever had been living in the Home Depot had created no problems for them, and Logan predicted they wouldn’t as he and Virgil made their way home.

Thanks for reading!

Just a fair warning, this series is going on a temporary hiatus as I want to have the next three parts completely written before I post the first one. It will be at least one week, probably two weeks, and maybe three weeks. Until then, enjoy wondering why I need to write all three simultaneously. :)

Want to keep reading? The next part of this series is “ And There is a Question”  

[letmeletmetrashyourlove]

Lucky Part 6

Author’s Note: I’m so ready to be done with this part, it took me forever. This is the next to last chapter, ya’lls! 

    PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE PART FOUR  PART FIVE

Not long after Roger left for the train station, I got a phone call that stalled the fluttering my heart was doing in my chest. I picked up the phone and before I could even say hello, the screaming started. Though most of it was unintelligible, I could make out the words ‘you’re fired’. In the whirlwind of Charlotte’s passing, I missed three days of work. Which was already a no-no in my boss’s view, but I hadn’t called in to let him know on any of those days.

I should’ve been mad. Three years of trying to climb the ladder in his company only to be fired without a single promotion. But instead, I hung up the phone, flopped onto my back on the bed,  and laughed. I covered my face with my hands as the laughter grew, leaving me wondering if I was finally descending into madness. The fit of sobbing that hit me soon after did nothing to instill confidence in my sanity either. The job didn’t pay nearly well enough for the abuse I endured, but that also meant I didn’t have much put away to cover expenses until I found another job.

Roger still called every day with a countdown of how many days it was until the Brighton show. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about getting fired. He already hauled his ass all the way home for me once and I didn’t want to worry him any more than I already had.

With no job, I found myself falling into some of Charlotte’s old habits. Including watching out the peephole while the landlord moved all of her furniture from her apartment. Lots of people came to see the apartment, but nobody ever moved in. It was probably because the landlord was asking way too much for it, but I liked to believe it was because Charlotte was haunting the place and scaring everybody out. I didn’t start to worry about not having a job until I paid rent for the month, realizing that this wasn’t going to be sustainable much longer. I shook the worry from my mind, though, opting instead to head to see Roger a little early. When he called that night I devised the plan, I asked to speak to Brian.

           “Why?”

          “Can I not talk to my friend?” I asked, a grin playing on my lips.

He grumbled something to himself before passing the phone to Brian.

          “Hello?” Brian answered.

          “Hey, Bri. Can you get away from the guys for a minute?” I asked, coiling the phone cord around my finger. He hummed to himself for a moment before the background chatter grew quieter,

          “Right?”

          “Where are you guys saying in Bristol next week?” I questioned.

          “The Old Manor House.” He replied, “Why?”

          “I think I may come down for a surprise,” I told him, feeling a flutter in my heart from excitement.

          “Yeah?” He replied, the grin on his lips evident from the change in his voice.

          “Yeah.”

          “Well, when you do, bring Roger’s glasses. I’m tired of having to read restaurant menus out loud to him.”

I let out a laugh.

          “Don’t tell Freddie or Deaky either. Both of them are blabbermouths. When you get there, give me a call with his room number, yeah?”

          “Of course, ma’am,” He teased in an overly posh tone,  “See you soon.”  

          “Pass me back to Rog before he gets cranky.”

          “He’s already cranky,” Brian grumbled, handing the phone to his friend.

          “What was that about?” Roger asked. I could tell he was likely shooting Brian a pointed stare.

          “Brian and I made contact with aliens and we’re coming up with a plan to get them to take you back to your home planet,” I replied flatly, though I eventually descended into a giggle when Roger started to laugh.

          “I’ll have to talk to the mothership about this plan.” Roger replied, “I’ve got to go lovely, we’re getting on the bus to our next stop. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

          “Of course. Love you, Roger.” I murmured.

          “I love you too.” He replied in a high pitched, robotic tone.

          “What the hell was that?” I cackled, throwing my head back and laughing.

          “That’s how they speak on my home planet!” He defended.

I rolled my eyes,

          “Goodbye, doofus.”

          “Bye.”

Their tour bus must’ve driven through the night because I awoke at an ungodly hour to the phone ringing. I groaned to myself, rolling over in bed and mindlessly swatting in the general direction of the phone until I found it. I pulled it off the receiver,

          “Whaddya want?” I grumbled, running a hand over my face.

          “Good morning to you too,” Brian replied in a disgustingly chipper tone for how early it was.

          “Still dark out. Can’t be morning if it’s still dark out.” I mumbled.

Brian let out a chuckle,

          “Roger’s in room 213 on the second floor.” He informed, “I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

          “Fuck you, Bri,” I grumbled, slamming the phone back onto the hook.

I realized after a couple of moments that I had said ‘fuck you’ rather than ‘thank you’, but I was too exhausted to care. Despite how tired I was, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I was too excited at the idea of seeing Roger so I threw a few days worth of clothes into my duffel bag before slinging it over my shoulder. I couldn’t remember the last time I went out of town, it had probably been before I even moved to London. Work kept me far too busy for even simple escapes like heading down to the coast for the weekend. It was a typical rainy London day, people rushing from cover to cover, their feet splashing in the puddles that formed in the dips of the sidewalk. I hugged my hood closer to my face as the wind picked up, threatening to blow it off my head entirely.

I ducked into the train station just before the gentle drizzle turned into a downpour. Other soggy, irritable people bustled around, shoving past each other to get on the proper train. I managed to hop on the green line just before the doors shut, finding a place to sit more easily than I had expected. Once the train cleared of early morning commuters, it was downright peaceful.

The hum of the train on the tracks and the patter of rain on the windows would’ve lulled me to sleep if I didn’t know better than to fall asleep on the train. Didn’t care to wake up three stops past my own with none of my belongings. The Old Manor House was only a few blocks from the train station, yet I still managed to get dripping wet by the time I arrived. I stepped into the lobby earning a laugh from the woman behind the desk.

          “Lovely weather, yeah?” I smiled at her as I shook myself off much like a wet dog.

          “Single or double?” She asked as I strode up to the desk.

          “Actually, I’ve got a friend staying here, room 213, I think?”

She nodded, pointing me towards the elevator,

          “Go right down the hallway after you get off the elevator. It’s three doors down on the left.” She told me.

I thanked her quickly before hopping on the elevator for the short ride to the second floor. When I reached the floor, I felt my heart do a somersault in my chest at the thought of how surprised Roger would be. My thoughts distracted me long enough that I nearly strode past room 213, but I rocked back on my heels just before I did so.

I stared at the door for a moment before knocking gently.

          “Who is it?” Roger bellowed from inside.

          “I’m looking for a cocky blonde, have you seen one?” I asked through the door.

There was the crash of something hitting the floor, followed by cursing and the click of a deadbolt before the door swung open, revealing Roger standing there with a look of shock on his face. He wore only a pair of boxers and his hair was askew, the ends of it sticking up,

          “I thought you were coming to Brighton next week,” He breathed as he stared at me.

          “I got a little lonely at home, figured I'd come early,” I beamed. He reached into the hallway and grabbed me by the hands before yanking me into the motel room. He pulled me in against his chest hard enough to send himself staggering back a couple of steps but he didn’t mind. His hands clasped my face as he leaned in to give me an affectionate and sloppy kiss.

          “Hi,” He breathed as he pulled away.

          “Hi,” I replied, my hands resting on his shoulders.

          “Raining?” He asked, glancing down to his boxers that now had a wet patch from my coat.

          “Just a bit,” I replied.

He rubbed his nose against mine for a moment before pressing a kiss to the end of it. The gesture was sweet enough to rot my teeth. I started to shrug off my jacket only for him to come around behind me and take it off for me. He made his way to the closet, putting it on a hanger as I let out a yawn.

I took in the sight of the room, it was modest, certainly not the biggest I had ever seen. Though after the long train ride in the rain, the bed looked mighty inviting. All I wanted to do was get out of my damp clothes and throw myself into it.

          “We’re all going out for dinner tonight at this little place Brian said he tried one time. Would you like some tea before we go, sweetheart? Maybe some coffee?”

          “No thank you, change of clothes would be nice, though.” I breathed as I let my purse down off my shoulder, pulling out the glasses case, “By the way, you forgot these.”

I handed the case to Roger who blushed.

          “I didn’t forget them… I just didn’t bring them.”

          “How have you even survived this long without your glasses!?” I smiled, “How’d you even know it was me when you answered the door? I probably just looking like a blob with hair.”

          “A blob with very nice perfume.” He replied, pulling out his glasses and perching them on his nose and glancing over at me.

          “Ah, the blob looks very nice today.” He complimented.

I rolled my eyes at him as I slipped out of my sneakers and tossed them aside. I reached for the top button on my jeans, making a smirk grow on his lips.

          “Don’t even think about it.” I scolded, peeling them off before making my way into the bathroom. He followed close behind, hands resting on my hips from behind while I leaned over to dry off my legs and feet, “Rog.” I warned.

          “What? Can’t I enjoy the view?”

          “Look but don’t touch, I wanna take a nap before dinner.”

          “You feel alright, darling?” He asked, his touch becoming less suggestive.

          “Yeah, just tired. Haven’t been sleeping much lately.”

He pouted at me as I stood up straight, pressing a kiss to my forehead before steering me towards the bed. As I laid down, he tucked the blankets in around me.

Though it was nice to be back with Roger, I could tell that he was walking on eggshells around me, cautious of every word he said, being sickeningly sweet, and not in a Roger way either. Not in a way that he knew drove me mad, beckoning me to tease him about it. This was in a wary manner as if even the slightest wrong move or word might upset me. It was true, I was still raw after what happened to Charlotte in addition to the job I had just lost, but I wanted nothing more than to just forget about that so I could banter with the person I love.

It wasn’t long after my head hit the pillow that I started to drift off only to be awoken what seemed like seconds later by Roger sitting down on the edge of the bed. My body rolled towards him as the mattress shifted under his weight,

          “Dinner’s in an hour, babe.” He told me, leaning down to push my hair from my face and plant a chaste kiss on my cheek. He propped his feet up on the bed beside me and flipped on the TV.

I rolled out of bed and dug into my bag for a change of clothes before making my way into the bathroom. Roger had been nice enough to pick my damp clothes up off the floor and hang them over the shower curtain rod to dry.

I tugged on my jeans and a plain white button up blouse before leaning into the mirror. Rain and sleep smeared makeup was smudged all around my eyes. I grabbed a washcloth and at least tried to make the smudges appear more purposeful before I joined Roger in the room. He opened his arms wide, an invitation for me to get back into the bed with him. I obliged, throwing myself down onto the bed so my legs were across his lap. He didn’t say anything, just pressed a kiss to my temple while I got myself comfortable against his chest. We wasted the next hour watching trashy TV until we decided it was time to head down to the lobby to meet the boys for dinner. Roger tucked the room key into his back pocket before taking my hand and leading me into the elevator.

          “Lucky Ducky!” Freddie hollered the moment Roger and I stepped into the lobby.

Roger trailed behind me as I hurried over to hug Freddie, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck.

          “I’m so sorry about Charlotte, darling.” He murmured in my ear as he hugged me with the same exuberance I held him with.

          “Thank you, Fred.” I breathed, “So nice to see you again.”

          “Don’t hog the girl!” Deaky called out from behind his friend.

I beamed at him as I pulled away from Freddie. He grabbed onto my hands as I walked towards him,

          “How are you?” He asked, giving my hands a squeeze.

          “A lot better, now that I’m here with you all.” I smiled as he pulled me in for a brief hug. I glanced over Deaky’s shoulder to Brian who stood with his arms over his chest.

          “Hello, poodle.”

          “Poodle? Never heard that one before.” He groaned, rolling his eyes. He dropped his playfully standoffish demeanor as I wrapped my arms around his middle,

          “Thanks for helping me scheme to surprise Roger,” I muttered against his shirt.

          “Don’t thank me, I did it for purely selfish reasons.” He replied as I pulled away.

          “Oh yeah? Which were?” I smiled up at him.

          “Roger is much more docile when you’re around.” He said as he led the way back out into the rain.

This time, I found myself much more equipped for it, as each of the boys had an umbrella. I tucked myself under Roger’s arm as Brian showed us the way to the restaurant he wanted us to go to.

          “Really, I thought you were going to say something nice, like oh I did it because I missed you too.” I mocked his airy tone.  

          “I do not sound like that!” He retorted, shooting me a glare.

          “Just admit you missed me.”

          “Not if you’re going to mock me.” He pouted.

          “Oh my dear, dear, dear, sweet Brian. Why ever did you assist me in my efforts to surprise my love?” I drawled, batting my eyelashes up at him.

He bit back a laugh, dropping his chin to his chest and shaking his head.

          “Fuck you.” He chuckled under his breath.

          “Does fuck you mean I missed you on whatever planet you’re from?”

          “Well, I did miss you,” He admitted, “But I’m starting to regret it.”

I let out a gasp, smacking Brian’s umbrella with the one Roger and I shared, earning yet another glare.

When we reached the restaurant, we had to wait for a table, so we all wandered over to the waiting area.

          “So, so sorry to hear about Charlotte, darling.” Freddie reiterated, “Just so terrible. I only ever met her once, she gave me a good fright, too.”

A grin played on my lips,

          “Yeah? That doesn’t surprise me. Did she yell at you from her doorway when you came over that one morning?”

          “Yes! Stealthy as a panther, that one! Opened the door so quietly I didn’t hear it, then shouted ‘hey!’ at me before interrogating me for at least five minutes.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head,

          “She is… was… quite protective of me.”

An awkward silence fell over the group just as the waitress came to show us to our table. When we sat down, the topic changed off of Charlotte, for which I was glad. Instead, they were fully engrossed in telling me what had happened since Roger had come to visit me.

Freddie went overboard and ordered a bottle of champagne,

          “Cheers to Lucky Ducky for gracing us with her presence.” He beamed once everybody had a glass. We all clinked them together before taking a sip.

The waitress returned a few moments later and we let Brian order for us since he was familiar with the place. It wasn’t overly fancy, for which I was grateful. Not only because I wasn’t nearly well dressed enough for it, but because this group of boys was notoriously loud and obnoxious. While Roger and Freddie joked with each other, I fell into conversation with Deaky, both of us sipping on our champagne. Roger, on the other hand,  was downing glass after glass, his hand going higher and higher on my thigh with each one.

          “Boys, I think I need to get Roger home for the night. He’s getting a little tipsy.” I announced when he sloshed a bit of champagne onto my jeans. They all agreed, letting us slip out of the restaurant and to the curb. While we waited for a cab to pass, Roger’s hands traveled across my hips, his chin resting on my shoulder from behind.

When we reached the hotel once more, he all but threw me on my back onto the bed. I shuffled back away from him, but he grabbed me by the ankles and yanked me towards the end of it.

          “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

          “Thought it’d be nice to turn in early.” I teased, shoving his face away as he leaned down to kiss me.

          “Not until I’m done with you.” He grumbled, grabbing my hands and pinning them above my head.

He tugged my shirt untucked from my jeans and stuck his head underneath it, pressing open mouthed kisses along my stomach before letting go of my hands to dig his fingers into my side. My body instinctively curled up, bringing my knees up to my chest to protect myself as he tickled me.

          “Stop it!” I laughed, “Rog Stop! I can’t breathe.”

He moved his head up far enough in my shirt that I could see him peering up at me through the neck hole.

          “You’re gonna tear my shirt!”

I frantically unbuttoned it, freeing the blonde from it before he could ruin it. His hair stood on end from static as he grinned up at me.

          “I think you’ve had too much champagne, love.” I panted, patting down his wild hair while still trying to recover from the ache in my sides from laughing too hard.

          “I think I’ve had just enough.” He concluded, sitting up long enough to pull off his own shirt and grab for his beer that sat on the nightstand. It had to have been there from the night before since I couldn’t recall him placing it there earlier. He took a swig from it before setting it down again,  “Now to get you out of those pants.”  

He started to unbutton them, quickly realizing that there was no way he could get them off without getting my boots off first. He let out a grunt as his hands trailed down my legs and came to rest at my ankles.

          “Rog, ow!” I giggled as he yanked at my boots in an attempt to get them off for me, “You’ve got to untie them first!”

He groaned in annoyance as he fumbled with one of the knots,

          “Who the bloody hell tied this!” He exclaimed.

          “I had Bri do it for me. Can’t bend over in these jeans.” I commented, wiggling my foot until he let go. I quickly undid the knot allowing him to yank the boot off. He did the same to the other one, discarding them beside the bed before grabbing the belt loops of my jeans and yanking them down my legs.

          “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He smiled, shoving his thigh between my legs as he leaned down to kiss me. They were sloppy at first, a few of them missed their mark and landed on my cheeks instead. My hand raked over his forehead, grabbing his bangs that hung down and tickled my face and pushing them out of the way.

          “I think you need a haircut, my darling.” I  breathed as he pulled away for a moment.

          “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

          “Mhmm. Or we can get you a cute little bow to stick in there like they do with those cute little dogs. A pink one with sequin-”

He groaned in annoyance, pressing his body against mine and rocking his hips forward, earning a gasp,

          “Well, that shut you up.” He grinned, earning a smack on the shoulder.

          “I love you.” He panted as he pulled the comforter up over our exhausted bodies.

          “I love you too, Blondie.” I sighed, rolling on my side, resting my head on his shoulder and draping my leg over his. His lips met my sweat slickened hair,

          “I missed you.” He murmured, fingertips ghosting over my bare arm.

          “Did you miss me or just this?” I asked, motioning between our two bodies.

          “You.” He replied, gaze meeting mine with an unexpected amount of sincerity.

I drew my bottom lip between my teeth as I stared up at him,

          “Yeah?”

          “Yeah.”

There wasn’t much more to say, except the soft I love you that escaped Roger’s lips just before we both drifted off.

I woke to warm, bruising kisses on my back, making me stir and roll towards Roger where he sat behind me. His lips moved from my back to my neck. I sighed in contentment, mind still clouded with sleep as I tangled my hands in his hair. Every time his lips left my skin, it was accompanied by a smooch and an exhale as he migrated across my chest. My hips wiggled subconsciously as Roger rolled on top of me to rest between my legs, holding himself up on his forearms. He ran his tongue over my sweet spot, making me gasp and wrap my legs around his waist. He let out a chuckle as he sank his teeth into the spot, hard enough to leave a mark there. It was then I felt something poking against the inside of my thigh,

          “Good morning, handsome.” I breathed, running my hands down the sides of his neck before wrapping my arms around it.

          “G’morning.” He muttered.

I glanced over at the clock to see that it was hardly 6am.

          “I thought I asked for a wake-up call at 9.”

          “I’ve got to go before then, help set up at the venue. Wanted to see my girl before then.”  He explained, kissing his way back up to my mouth.

          “See me? Is that what you’re calling this now?” I asked as I pulled away.

He ignored my remark, lips back on mine. He groaned against them as I tightened my legs around his waist, pulling his hips flush against mine.

          “Keep doing  that and this won’t go on much longer.” He warned.

          “Maybe that’s the goal? I’d like to go back to sleep.” I teased, reaching under the comforter to glide my hand down his abdomen. He drew in a sharp breath at the sudden touch from my cold fingers.

          “Well, you’ll be exhausted when I’m done with you.” He purred.

          “You going to bore me to death?”

He let out a grumble as his hand flew between my legs, making me gasp. He let out a chuckle as his lips found my neck. His movements were slower than the night before, more languid and sleep filled. It was a nice change of pace.

          “Bored yet?” He asked as I curled into his side, the both of us still panting.

          “Out of my mind.” I breathed, pressing a kiss to his chest before resting my head against it.

He reached across my body to grab a cigarette and lighter off the nightstand, placing it between his lips and lighting it. Before he could inhale, I grabbed it from him, taking the first puff. He whined in annoyance until I gave it back. I breathed out the smoke and it billowed into the faint strip of sunlight that streamed through the curtains. We sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the inhale and exhale of smoke, the occasional hiss of cigarette ash hitting the ashtray on the bedside table. His fingers ran up and down my bicep gently enough to lull me to sleep.

When I woke again, he wasn’t beside me anymore. There was a note scrawled across the notepad on the nightstand,

                                        I’ll be back by noon. Love, Rog.

I yawned as I glanced over at the alarm clock, it was already 11. I rolled out of bed and reached for Roger’s button up that had been discarded last night.

I wandered into the bathroom, catching sight of myself in the full-length mirror and gasping. There were purple marks all over my chest, neck, and thighs. I pulled the button up aside to see that they also trailed up onto my hips and stomach.

          “Fucking hell, Rog,” I grumbled as I reached for my toothbrush.

The hotel room door opened and I peered out of the bathroom, toothbrush still between my teeth. I expected it to be Rog but it was Freddie.

          “Hello, lovely Lucky!” He hollered when he spotted me, taking two large strides to meet me at the door.

I pulled the toothbrush from my mouth and spit into the sink. The door was still opened a crack, just enough for Freddie to be able to see my reflection in the mirror,

          “Dear lord, looks like somebody attacked you with a vacuum cleaner.” He gasped, looking me up and down, “I knew my boy was good, but damn.”

          “Freddie!” I snapped in annoyance, but I couldn’t hide the laughter that was bubbling up in my chest. I swatted at him, chasing him out of the bathroom.

          “What the bloody hell am I going to wear to cover this up!?” I hollered as I grabbed the robe from off the door and wrapped it around myself. I quickly ran a brush through my hair before opening the door,

          “I say you embrace it, darling. No shame in getting a little slutty now and then.” He replied.

          “How the hell did you even get in here?” I asked.

          “Snagged the key from Roger’s pocket,” He grinned, jingling it in front of my face before tossing it onto the TV stand.

          “Shoulda grabbed his wallet while you were at it.” I teased.

          “I would but all he’s got in there is a picture of his old family dog and some condoms. Though, by the look of you, there might not be any condoms left in there…”

I swatted at him, hitting him on the shoulder.

          “Well you’re not exactly trying to hide it, are you!?” He crossed his arms over his chest, glancing between me and the clothes that littered the floor.

          “Didn’t expect that there’d be anybody coming in to hide it from.” I retorted.

He shrugged, prodding my jacket that sat on the floor with his foot.

          “So, why do you grace me with your presence, Mr. Mercury?” I smiled at him, using the phrase he had spoken about me the night before.

          “Haven’t seen you in a while, figured I’d come bother you.”

          “You could never bother me, Fred.”

I wandered back into the room, flopping down onto the bed. Freddie continued around the room, glancing in drawers and fishing through our suitcases. I was too relaxed to care, though, glad to have some time to spend with Roger where I wasn’t sobbing like an infant like I had been when he came home after Charlotte.

          “Eh?” Freddie sounded from the end of the bed.

I glanced up at him, he had pulled out one of Roger’s patterned button-ups and one of my skirts that came to rest just above the knee.

          “You could be onto something, Fred.” I smiled, sitting up and taking the clothes from him.

I scurried back into the bathroom to change before going back out into the room to see him flopped on his back on the bed reading a magazine. I threw myself down beside him, tucking my head against his shoulder as I read the article he was looking at. Something about the spring fashion trends of the year, though it was clear he was only looking at the pictures as he continued to flit through the pages.

          “Shouldn’t you get back to the boys?”

          “Trying to get rid of me?” He asked with a gasp, swatting my face gently with the magazine.

          “Mhmm.” I replied simply, “I secretly hate your guts and I’m only here to try to break up the band.”

He let out another dramatic gasp, smacking his hand to his chest,

          “Why, I never…” He trailed off before the the both of us burst out into giggles.

          “Well, you’re right, darling. Come back to the venue with me?”

I strolled up to the stage behind Freddie who bounded over to the microphone stand to adjust it accordingly. Roger sat on the ground behind his drum kit, cursing to himself as he tightened a few bolts.

I strolled over and despite me being mere feet away from him, he didn’t notice me until I cleared my throat. He jumped, head hitting the bottom of his hi-hat with a crash. Brian barked out a laugh, earning a glare from Roger before he looked up at me.

I don’t think Roger even knew the extent of the damage he had done. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw me in the outfit Freddie picked out. It was certainly more modest than what I had worn last night, and it didn’t even show the worst of it. He got up off the floor, giving me a thorough once over before reaching to do up the top buttons of the shirt.

          “Something wrong, Rog?” I asked, tilting my head as he fumbled with the buttons.

          “Went a tad crazy, didn’t I?” He questioned as he pulled the collar of the shirt back so he could look down it.

          “Please, Rog. Just look down the front of my shirt in front of the whole band and crew.” I sassed, hands on my hips. My quip earned a few chuckles from all the people who were scuttling around us setting up various lights and amps. His hands dropped from where they were tugging on my shirt to rest on my hips. His shock turned into a shit-eating grin that I just wanted to smack off his face,

          “Don’t look so smug!”

I rested my hand on his cheek and gently pushed him away but he pulled me back in by the hips before letting his hands migrate to my lower back to pull my body against his.

          “I think I can do worse tonight, don’t you?” He breathed in my ear, making a shiver run up my spine.

          “Or we could get a matching set,” I replied, running my finger across his collarbone and up his neck. His adam's apple bobbed at the thought.

          “Oi! No fucking on stage!” Freddie hollered as he toyed with his microphone stand, “Not in front of the children!”

          “What children?” Roger fired back, glaring over his shoulder.

Freddie pointed over his shoulder to Deaky who was toying with his amp.

          “Oi!” He retorted, shooting Freddie a pointed stare.

          “You’re the band baby, darling,” Freddie commented.

          “Only by a couple years!” Deaky defended.

Roger grabbed me by the waist and moved me to sit on the stool behind the drums while he continued to tweak his kit.

          “How’s your morning, love?” He asked once he adjusted the height of one of his toms. He paused to rest his forearm on my knee, placing his head on top of his arm as he looked up at me.

          “Freddie came to kidnap me,” I told him.

          “He does that. When we shared an apartment, he would wake me up in the middle of the night to go on some bizarre adventure at least once a week.”

          “He also seemed very amused by your work,” I commented as Roger’s hand ghosted over where my skirt had ridden up my thighs when I sat down. He gently pressed his thumb into one of the marks he had made. A grin grew on his lips when I winced and pulled my leg away.

          “Roger,” I warned as he chased my thigh with his hand.

He continued to reach for it anyway despite my warning, placing a kiss on my knee. I promptly grabbed a drum stick and bopped him on top of the head with it, making him withdraw his hand to place it atop his head.

          “Ow!” He exclaimed, sticking out his bottom lip.

          “You’re going to behave yourself today, and maybe we can have our fun later,” I replied, dropping the drum stick into his lap before getting off the stool and stepping over him.

It wasn’t much later that a member of the crew showed up with some take-out food, which we all overindulged in. Before long, the small venue started to flood with people.

          “I better get down there, yeah?” I nodded towards the audience as the final preparations were made for the show.

          “Come watch from side stage!” Roger suggested, shaking his arms to hype himself up.

          “I prefer the view from the audience,” I replied, grinning at his pre-show ritual.

          “You sure?”

          “Yeah.”

I gave him a ‘good luck’ peck on the lips before making my way into the front row, cautiously stepping around those that were not to keen to give up their spots. I made it to the center of the stage, glancing around at the crowd. It was an incredibly diverse group, making me smile knowing all of the people that the band was reaching. Not long after I found my spot, the lights went down and cheers erupted from the crowd. Brian started the show off with a riff before going into their first song. When it was finished, Freddie made his way to the front of the stage, taking a sip from a beer,

          “It’s gonna be a good show tonight, do you know how I know?” He asked, surveying the crowd.

The crowd cheered in response,

          “No. Not because of you lot! You’re too cocky.”

The people around me burst into laughter, their eyes shining as they admired the band’s frontman, 

          “I know it’s gonna be a good show because we’ve got our good luck charm in the audience tonight.” Freddie beamed, “Can’t see you, darling, where are you?”

He protected his eyes from the lights with his hand as he scanned the front row. I waved up at him and suddenly the eyes of everybody in the first few rows was on me. I retracted my hand, casually sticking it into my back pocket as my eyes met the ground in front of me. I was never one to enjoy being the center of attention.

          “Ah, hello darling.” Freddie smiled, “All of you be on your best behavior for Lucky, alright?”

The crowd cheered once more as the lights went down and Brian started the riff for the next song. I let out a sigh of relief when the attention was back on Freddie, as it should be.

The energy was entirely different in this venue than it was in any bar I had seen them play in before. Though it was significantly less intimate, it was breathtaking. It was on a scale I had never seen before from any band, let alone these boys who used to play college gigs at dive bars. I tried to dance like nobody was watching, twisting my hips to the music and belting out the lyrics, but it was abundantly clear that people were watching. Not just watching, glaring. The side-eyed glances were off-putting, to say the least. I didn’t even know these people, and they were looking at me like I had somehow stolen their man.

Not to mention the few men who saw the marks on my neck and decided that they somehow had permission to touch me. A pair of hands rested on my hips from behind as I danced, pulling me back against them. I lunged forward away from their grasp, spinning around to scold them.

          “Hands off, prick!” I spat, looking him up and down.

It was clear he was piss drunk, possibly on something other than alcohol,

          “What? By the looks of you, seems you like to have a good time.” He commented, hooking his finger in the collar of my shirt. 

          “Certainly not with sleazy, entitled, jerks.” I retorted, giving him a shove away.

He cursed at me as he steadied himself. Luckily, the movement of the crowd put people between him and I. I popped the collar on my shirt to hide the marks Roger had left, hoping to discourage other assholes.

As the set came to an end and the boys all walked to the front of the stage to take a bow, girls all around me were calling Roger’s name, along with the occasional shout for Brian or Deaky, though the Roger fans were significantly louder. Before the lights went down, Roger cocked his head towards the door that I had exited side stage from before. It was surrounded by fans trying to get in, only to be blocked by the brooding man guarding it. When I reached him, he let me past, earning loud complaints from those that were denied entry.

I let out a sigh of relief once I was out of the crowd. Roger bounded over to me, sweaty and panting. He grabbed me by the biceps,

          “Well?” He asked, staring at me with an adorably lopsided grin.

          “That was incredible! The energy was incredible!” With his utter delight, I didn’t dare ruin it by telling him about the prick in the crowd or the pointed stares I received.

          “You think so?”

          “Yeah!”

He planted a fierce and bruising kiss on my lips, eliciting a squeak of surprise from my throat.

          “Let me go get cleaned up and we’ll head back to the hotel bar for a few drinks, yeah?”

I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as he placed a much more innocent peck on my lips before scurrying off to the dressing room.

Deaky stayed behind a little longer, fiddling with his amp. I wandered over to him, taking a seat on one of the other amps. I let my feet dangle off it, crossing my legs at the ankles.

          “Still having troubles with it?” I asked, noticing that it was the same one he was trying to fix the day they left for their tour.

          “Too much reverb.” He muttered, “Must be something loose in there, but I can’t find it.”

          “It sounded great from the audience, couldn’t even tell. Have you tried hitting it really hard? That usually works for my TV.”

He shook his head, giving it a less than gentle kick before taking his bass off his shoulder and joining the boys in the dressing room.

I had expected the gathering at the hotel bar to be small. Band and crew only. But it was packed to the brim, a few familiar girls from the crowd bopped around to the music, holding their glasses over their heads as to not spill them. I scanned the group, noticing a few people snorting some sort of substance, making me wince.

Roger’s arm was looped with mine, tugging me toward the bar. He took a seat on one of the stools, pulling me to stand between his legs with my back to him. He ordered for the two of us, getting himself a beer and a gin and tonic for me. I gladly accepted the drink, knowing I would need it to get through this party without flipping my shit. I downed it all too quickly, earning me a concerned glance from Roger. I set the glass back on the bar,

          “More gin than tonic this time, please.”

The bartender grinned, gladly filling the glass more than halfway with gin before adding a splash of tonic.

          “Thank you, you’re getting a good tip tonight, my friend.” I smiled, once again downing the drink.

          “You alright?” Roger asked, wrapping his arms around my waist, mouth against my ear.

          “Yeah. Just enjoying the party.” I fibbed, crunching on one of the ice cubes in my drink, “Come dance with me, love.” I hollered over the music.

          “Can’t say no to that.”

He abandoned his beer on the counter, getting up and taking my hand. I held a finger up to him as I chugged the rest of my drink, slamming the glass down beside his beer bottle. I pulled him over to the dancefloor, twisting around much like I had done at the concert. Roger settled himself in behind me, hands all over my waist and hips, chin on my shoulder. The song changed, making him twirl me around to face him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, staring at him,

          “I can’t believe you got time off work to come!” He hollered over the music.

I let out a laugh, shaking my head,

          “Mhmm. Got lots of time off work. Permanently off work, actually.” I slurred, feeling the effects of my quickly downed gin.

          “What?” He asked, furrowing his brows at me and halting his movements.

          “Got fired!” I smiled, toying with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

          “What?” He hollered, jaw on the floor.

          “Mhmm!” I hummed, spinning around in his grasp so my back was to him once more.

He spun me back around again, much to my chagrin.          

          “What happened?”

          “Missed a couple of days after Charlotte. Bossman did not like that.” I smiled, chuckling to myself.

Roger’s concern grew as I laughed the situation off,

          “And you’re just….okay with that?”

          “I was miserable there, Rog.”

          “But you worked so hard there… how can you just-”

          “I don’t wanna talk about it, I just wanna dance.” I huffed, trying once more to turn around in his grip. He stopped me, hands firmly planted on my waist,

          “Somethings wrong.” Roger declared, looking me over, “What’s the matter?”

          “The matter is I want to get wasted and grind on my boyfriend and he’s being a party pooper!” I complained.

Roger let out a scoff, letting go of me and striding off into the crowd. If I hadn’t been so drunk and stubborn, I would’ve followed him. Instead, I continued to dance until my feet grew sore in my shoes.

          “Gotta pee,” I mumbled to myself, finding my way to the bathroom and into a stall. The girls that were standing by the sink when I entered were giggling to themselves. I wasn’t bothered by it until I finished in the stall and went to wash my hands. It was then clear that what they were giggling about was me. Either they were too drunk to hide it or weren’t trying to hide it at all. They kept pointing at me and glancing over their shoulders before looking away when I caught them. I cleared my throat as I left the bathroom and wandered back out into the bar. The tiff with Roger and now the harassment from the girls in the bathroom killed my dancy drunk mood and turned it into a depressed drunk mood. I swallowed my pride and found Roger with a group of friends. I stared at my feet, crossing my arms and rubbing my arms in an attempt to comfort myself.

He excused himself from his friends, stepping over to me and placing a hand on my shoulder as he leaned in close to me,

          “You alright?” He murmured.

          “I think I’m going to head back upstairs,” I told him.

I expected him to protest, ask me to stay a little longer, but he didn’t.

          “That’s probably a good plan. Let me say goodbye to a few people and I’ll head up with you.” He said, glancing around me looking for the rest of the band.

          “No, Rog. It’s okay you can stay if you want. I’ll see you up there later.” I told him as I turned away.

          “You’re drunk, you shouldn’t walk up there yourself.” He insisted, catching me by the wrist.

          “Rog, we’re like, twenty feet from the elevator and the room is like, two feet from the elevator. I think I can make it on my own.” I reassured, shaking my arm loose from his grasp.

He opened his mouth to protest before shaking his head and allowing me to go. I slipped out of my shoes as I stepped into the hotel lobby, sighing in relief as the pressure was removed from the blisters that were inevitably forming on my ankles. I made it to the hotel room, throwing my shoes to the ground before making a beeline for the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to wash the night off, especially the touches from that creep at the concert. I switched on the water in the tub as I undressed, once again getting a good look at the marks that covered my body. In my desperation for a bubble bath, I poured in one of the tiny bottles of shampoo the hotel had provided.  I let out a sigh as I stepped into the tub, sinking into the water.

It wasn’t much longer that the creak of the front door alerted me to Roger’s arrival.

          “Baby?” He called.

          “Bathroom!” I replied.

When the door swung open, I found myself slipping underneath the bubbles in an attempt to cover myself.

          “Rog!” I scolded.

          “What? Not like I haven’t seen it before.” He retorted, shrugging off his jacket and setting it on the counter, “You alright?”

          “Yeah.” I fibbed.

          “Had me worried, downing your drinks like that, leaving in such a hurry.” He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

He knew me better than I could’ve imagined, learning more in a couple of months than most people learned about me in years. One of those things being that I’m not a heavy drinker and because of that I’m a total lightweight.  

          “Sorry… I just…” I began, trying to find the right words to tell him that it felt like my entire world was crumbling around me while I scrambled to hold onto something, anything, for dear life. He was the only constant I had, and at any given time, he was hundreds of miles away.

          “Did I do something wrong?”

          “N-”

          “Are you pissed at me?”

          “No, Rog! I-”

          “Then what is it? I haven’t seen you in weeks and suddenly you’re running away from me!” He bellowed, his harsh tone making me wince and sink even lower into the tub.

          “Roger, I’m not running away from you! I’m… running away from... This!” I motioned wildly around myself.

          “This?”

          “The parties, the drinking, the drugs, the half-naked girls, the piss drunk guys! It’s just… it’s a lot, Rog. I’m just overwhelmed, okay!?” I shouted, sinking lower into the bathwater.

His shoulders dropped when I finally snapped back at him. He wandered over to the edge of the tub and sat down on it. I fixed my eyes on the faucet as it dripped, the droplets hitting the bubbles with a faint hiss.

          “Hey.” Roger began.

My gaze shifted up to meet his. His cheeks were flushed, from the alcohol or the tense moment I couldn’t be sure, but his stare was softer than when he had entered.

          “I’m sorry. It is a lot, and I shouldn’t have just assumed you would be okay with it.” He apologized, smoothing his hand over the top of my head, “Can I join you?”

I nodded, reaching for the plug to let out some water so it wouldn’t overflow when he got in. He unlatched his watch and set it on the counter.

          “I just… I feel bad because I pulled you away from the party and… I don’t know… this is your life now I… I don’t want to… get in the way.”

          “You’re not in the way of anything, love.” He replied, tugging off his boots and socks.

          “Yeah? Well, all the girls down there looked at me otherwise.” I grumbled.

          “I wouldn’t know. I was only looking at you.” He said, pulling his shirt over his head before working on his belt buckle. The words made my cheeks burn and I shook my head at how he could still give me butterflies in my stomach.

          “That was a smooth line, Taylor.”

He flashed me a toothy grin before climbing into the tub and settling himself between my legs with his back to my chest. He tapped a gentle beat on my knees for a moment before relaxing enough to sink into the water. I wrapped my arms around his chest, resting my cheek on his head.

If every night ended like this, it might make up for the chaos of the day. I grabbed ahold of his hands, making him wince. I flipped them over to look at his palms, blistered and battered from playing so hard. I ran my fingertips over them gently.

          “Played a little rough tonight, didn't you?” I asked.

          “I was playing to impress.” He said, turning to look at me and pressing a kiss to the underside of my jaw.

          “Oh yeah?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, letting his head fall back to rest against my shoulder and closing his eyes.

          “I know you said you don’t wanna talk about it… but how’s fired life treating you?” He asked.

I scoffed, shifting uncomfortably underneath him,

          “Bored out of my mind. Not to mention I don’t think I’ll be able to afford next months rent.”

          “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He questioned as he sat up, turning over his shoulder to look at me with knit brows.

          “Rog… I didn’t want you to worry about me…”

          “Well, it’s my job to worry about you. I love you.” He insisted, rubbing my knee reassuringly.

          “I know… I know… I just… Man… I was so close to just… being able to survive on my own and-”

          “Move in with me.”  

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[aliypop]

Mirror Mirror

Word Count:  1,721

A/N: So this fic is about the alternative Yonah and Ezra, which follows in the line of the 2005 Constantine movie,  I hope you guys like it!

  "What more do you want! Yonah." Ezra shouted, "You come back home late at night make a ruckus to the Wayne name on the night of my most important day," she growled, her eyes focused in her mirror, Ezra was soon to become the queen of Pafrania, a title that Yonah gave up years ago when she ran away to California to "practice" her magic. "I just wanted to congratulate you little sister.," she smirked evilly at Ezra. "Can't I just be here to support you?" Yonah questioned pulling one of the many hairs from her sisters head, 

"No, because nothing good ever comes from you.. you bring heartbreak towards this family, everyone you love leaves you and sometimes dies, I'm surprised that demon guy likes you." she scoffed, brushing her hair. Yonah felt a small rip in her heart form knowing that it was her time to leave, she had already gotten what she needed and there was no turning back now, so she thought,

Ezra watched her sister walk out of her room putting her focus back into prepping for the royal gala when suddenly she saw a shadowy figure in her mirror, thinking nothing of it she shrugged it off and continued doing her makeup, 

" Ezra .~"   

"Ezra.~" 

A voice said coming from nowhere, looking around she saw absolutely nothing until she looked up into the mirror from the corner of her room. 

"What the hell are you!" Ezra asked staring at the entity that dwelled from inside her mirror, 

" Ego sum anima, quod habitat in vobis." 

"I am the soul that dwells in yo-" she began to repeat after her reflection as she was sucked into the mirror,

 "LET ME GO!" 

"John can you believe it," Yonah said sitting in the back of Chas's taxi "I go to give a simple hello to my sister, and she treats me like utter shi-" a flash of bright light was seen in one of the mansion rooms, 

"Do you smell that?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Sulfur," John replied while lighting a cigarette in his mouth.  Chas nodded at the pair gesturing them for them to go scope out the scene. 

"If you wanted to kiss me, you could have asked." 

"Rosemary lipstick, wards off demons." She said applying the red substance on her lips, as she handed him  sage, the look on his face a confused one,

 "Remeber I stopped practicing black magic years ago, ever since our little accident." she pointed towards her back as John took the sage,  "Chas come on !" she shouted watching him run behind her,  opening the door of the mansion she saw the looks of it, something about the place was eerier than usual. 

"Ms. Yonah, don't you know it's improper to come uninvited?"  Alfred said, polishing the metal of his prized teapot, 

"Alfred I'm so-" she stopped talking as he revealed his half rotting face, flies flying over it as he was grey in the face,�� 

 "  Libero spiritus relinquere hoc corpus!" Yonah shouted pushing her hand out blasting through what she thought was Alfred,  running up the steps she looked back at John blowing a spark from her finger,  "Let's just keep going," John said, the three of them walking upstairs,  

"This place is huge.." Chas said, looking around as he walked passed one of the bedrooms, "Hey, John, Yonah I'm gonna explore a bit in here," the room was beautiful, something you would see in a movie, chandelier hanging from the ceiling, with a bed fit for a queen, it was quite, pictures of a young girl on the table with what seemed to have been her parents, she looked  happy and fulfilled but she also looked like-,

"Chas.. play with me?" 

Chas followed the voice of the little child, being lead to what was a little girl playing with a Batman action figure. She had curly hair with the most trusting eyes that Chas had ever seen. 

"What's a little kid like you doing left alone?"

"Oh, I'm not alone?" the little child smiled at him, "I'm Yonah it's nice to meet you!" she stuck her hand out for him to shake it,

"Nice to meet you two," he took her hand to shake, the dooring behind him closing slowly.

"You didn't tell me your parents were royalty?" John glared over at Yonah as they passed down the family portraits, "You've never asked, now keep walking." she growled, walking by the study they hadn't been faced to face by any demons yet, and they had hoped it would stay that way. 

"What happened between you guys?" he asked the two now strolling down the hall, 

"I wasn't always a bad child... I just wanted to well... be noticed, I never meant to put a curse on my sister, I never meant to fall from grace I-" the door of the study creaked catching the attention of John and Yonah, it was empty as the perusal when she was there. 

"I should have raised you better.." the voice said coming from behind the door, "But instead we paid attention to your sister," Yonah knew that voice from anywhere, she began feeling the sting again on her heart that took a splash in the acid of her stomach.

"Dad?" she began walking.

"Yonah no," John said, seeing right through the disguise, but he knew Yonah was too blinded to see it, he just had to find a way to show her, she was wrong.

"You really think you'll get your happily ever after with that one?" Bruce pointed outside to  John from the closed doors, everything still looked the same from when she was little, pictures of her dad, her brothers, her mother, and in his hands a picture of her, in a mirror, 

 "What are you talking about?"

"All he's doing is using you, you know it for a fact, that boy doesn't love you.." Bruce said glaring at Yonah making her feel small, "He'll only break your heart, throw you away and-"

"That's not true!" she shouted, watching the way he began to glide past her, grabbing her by the arm taking her towards the window his back towards the door, as she was now hypnotized by the image, almost as if she were caught in his web,  Bruce smirked as he took a shard of glass dipping it in his blood, 

"So nice of you to visit.." 

BOOM!

"Yonah where are you, Yonah," John stopped in his tracks seeing her semi- lifeless body on the floor bleeding out a puddle of magenta blood spewing out from her body slowly, "That bastard.." he whispered crouching down to her height, tying his tie around the gash on her leg he picked her up laying her on the office desk, before of blast of air pushed him out the window glass falling all around him.

"Well fuck," he grumbled hitting his head on a bush,  

"We meet again," the voice said shapeshifting from its disguise to its usual self.

" Marzannin.," he growled, "Demoness of vanity," he growled getting back up as she pulled her hand out using her powers to choke, "Doesn't feel nice does it, John, nice girl, by the way, shame she had to die," she shrugged.

Yonah got up with the best of strength that she had left, hearing fast pacing footsteps from the hall her hand out reading to cast any spell needed, her eyes still half shut, 

"Hey... Ms. Yonah... stay with me, God that's blood, yeah that's blood,"

Yonah laughed a little hearing his voice, "Hey Chas sweetie, calm down, we have to save Ezra,"  she tried getting her strength back, but nothing would do, "John's gonna be pissed at me, but.." he said starting to ramble out spells that he remembered,

"Had enough yet, John!"  Marzannin said, seeing him all bloody and beaten.

"No.." 

Yonah pulled Ezra out of the mirror as she laid her unconscious body on her bed, "Chas protect her please, she's the only sister I've got." 

"Wait where are you go-" he stopped noticing that she was already gone, "Gotham broads I tell ya." he shook his head,

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size Marzi.. or are you too much a bitch to do so.."  she began walking towards the demon who had John floating in the air, looking up at again she felt everything was slipping away from her, but she also felt as though she had nothing to lose.

" Rosea flamma ignis" she said flames growing from the palm of her hands, slinging them around to hit the demon, first she takes her sister and now the man that she dearly loved, this demon had to die and quickly. 

"You'll need a summoning circle, I've been practicing on those!" Chas said making one,  Yonah nodded as she walked towards it face to face with the demon, 

"You really care that much.." she said, "What a pity, wasting your time on a man who'll never love you.." she laughed, 

"That may be so... but I'd trade my life for his any moment, including now.." she said raising her hand out for Marziznian to reach,

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Yonah! no, "  Chas shouted.

"Take it, it's yours.." as the demon grabbed her hand she used her fire powers to send her right back where she belonged, in hell,  "Chas you make sure John is fine I'll-"

"Yonah.." Ezra said running towards her hugging her tightly, "You saved my life, after everything I said why, " 

"It was no big deal, trust me," she smiled, 

"No, I must honor you at the gala Alfred, you get her and her friends cleaned up please," 

Yonah sat in her old room dressed up as she heard a knock on the door, John stood there mouth open as he saw Yonah dressed in a midnight blue gown that complimented her so much, "Why the long face?" he asked watching the way she looked at him.

"John I don't deserve to be here... I deserve to be with you.." she said, 

"What about the scar?"

"Stitched perfectly, but what do you say we leave this place and stick our noses where we're needed.."  she smirked pulling him by his new tie and kissing him.

[andya-j]

It was the job of a lifetime for me, teaching people to speak English in Hanoi, Vietnam, and getting paid big money for it. In 1994, the war seemed long over, but for some, it was never going to end, soldiers becoming redundant, and innocent people becoming landlocked, their way of living and thought forever changed, so much so they could never rest, not until their job was done . Summer was in full swing there and two of my friends joined me, to help me settle in. They had been there twice before. Good old Jim Dyson and His wife John, short for Johnette. They were both older than me by about ten years. I was only twenty-six. An uncle of mine – Tom - had served in the Army during the war, got wounded at the Battle of Long Tan. He rarely spoke of it, but when he got drunk he did, and would troll off into his own little world, speaking in Vietnamese, because he had to learn the language, just in case he got caught. “ Eddie, “ he'd say, breathing alcoholic fumes on me, trying to look me in the eye, “ they tie ya to trees, boy. Then, they cut ya. From ya shithole to ya breakfast. “ Then, he'd look over his shoulder suspiciously, and smirk, “ We really should make a run for it. “ Uncle Tom was killed by a car walking to the shops in 1986. He had been sober for three years. Hurt my family deeply, Hanoi surprised me, because I thought I would be in a city of the past, with people selling rice, working bullock drays, on unpaved potholed roads, with throwback sixties bars, and tiny, pretty women in purple silk miniskirts promising to love me long time. It was nothing like that. The Dysons had warned me. It was very modern and very loud. And, man, it was loud. First day there, I saw a fight in the street. Two taxi drivers got into an argument over a potential fare and one stabbed the other in the back of the neck. The potential fare ran off and got on a bus. I wanted to step in and help the wounded driver, but Jim pulled me back, saying, “ No, Ed. It's their business. They don't like interference. Trust me. “ I trusted him, but I really think I should have helped. We settled into a hotel called the Hanoi Arms and I still had three weeks to go until I settled into the teacher's cottage. The Vietnamese government, crawling along as it was, had found me a permanent place to stay, which I was and will be forever grateful for. It was much like a modern bedsitter unit. It had an expanse to place a bed, a lounge, a desk, and television, which I never had reception for, unless it was a black screen with Viet music playing. The place had a seperate kitchen and bathroom, though. And it had electricity. I met the renevator – Tran – when I turned up the first time, with Jim and John. “ Ready. Ready soon, “ he said, smiling, covered in paint, a man in his late forties. “ You cook here. Big cook. “ He dabbed paint at the wall, then said, “ Here, man cook all time. Good for wife. Wife cook good, man cook better. Must cook better. No cook, no good. No cook, no wife, “ then he chuckled, like this was the local knowledge and a joke to him. Tran smoked a cigarette while he painted, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, never once using his hands to deal with it, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth, squinting through one eye. When the cigarette was finished, he spat the butt with expert aim into a brass pot. I have never smoked, so I found it fascinating, and when I finally moved in at the start of term, there was not a shred of cigarette smoke in the place. I never met Tran again. At the community school, where I would be working, I met the head of education. She called herself Miss Maggie. She was taller then most Vietnamese women, had long and straight black hair, with legs that ran to her neck, and she had the greenest eyes. Jim and John met her with me and they later told me that meeting an asian woman with green eyes is very good luck, like marrying a white woman with blue eyes. It's simply the polar cultural opposites of good fortune. Being only twenty-six at the time, I won't lie, I wanted to fuck Miss Maggie bad. She was hot. With three weeks to go before the start of a new term, Miss Maggie said, “ You should cycle. Go get cycle, love. “ She said love. My heart was beating fast. Then, she said, “ The people there. In the country, they need you. I don't need you here. I need you there. Introduce yourself, Mister Grantley. Be a teacher. “ “ Just call me Eddie, “ I said. “ No, you are Mister Grantley. You are a teacher, like I am, but I am better than you are. You know why? You are here, love, “ winking at me, knowing she was the boss, and that was all of it. Love... That word again. A learned word to soothe the nerves of the caucasian, like junkies use it to appease a dealer they owe money to, or to get product from, or to slide their foot through the door. We were attracted, I could see it, but she wanted me to do my job, earn the money, better her homeland, and prove it. “ Certainly, “ I said. “ It's a very good idea. I'll listen to your advice. Bicycle, was it? “ “ Yes, “ she said. “ Blend in. A motor car distinguishes you at my school. Get a bicycle. I see you have friends waiting for you. You should take them with you. I heard your other friend speaking Vietnamese. Make sure he goes with you. To be a good teacher, Mister Grantley, you must be like the students. If they crawl, you crawl with them, then they learn to walk. “ I understood her logic and that's why I eventually married her. Jim and John were quick to rent bicycles for us and off into the Vietnamese countryside we went, leaving the noise of Hanoi behind. Before too soon the roads became dusty, dirty, pocked with holes, and irrigations. We laughed at how much those road jolted our bones. We stopped at villages, the villagers coming out, speaking to us, telling us where to go, and where not go, offering us their babies at times, freaking us out, always marvelling at the shininess of our bicycles, sunglasses, and watches, touching the fabric of our clothes. At one place, into our fourth day of cycling, at a village I still cannot pronounce, they held Jim and Johnette down, by the side of their toppled bikes, yelling, machetes high, willing to decapitate them both, then the villagers laughed and let us go. We wanted to go home then, but Jim was pissed, “ Fuck these little cunts! Fuck them! “ “ Shut up! “ Johnette shrieked. Then, they came back, and took us, shoved us to the ground again. Right there in the middle of nowhere. “ Be cool, “ I told my companions, “ Just be quiet for a moment. “ ( Please... ), I said in Vietnamese, especially to the older angry man with the machete above me, his dark face scrunched to kill, and me already having wet myself. ( We will ), from remembering all my uncle Tom's drunken Vietnamese. I was here to teach it, not speak it. The angry man with the machete yelled, “ We will? We what? “ I asked, ( Teach speak please? )( Can we please help you? ) ( Hear me? ) He kicked my belly, called me a smarty pants, slapped the back of my head, and snorted that english was easy. The Americans taught him that. Jim was next. He grabbed Jim by the fringe and put the machete to my friend's throat, yelling, “ You! What you do? “ John was pleading with the men roughing her up and Jim was seething with anger, his eyes making it clear. ( I can rip every tooth from your head and fistfuck your mouth for this, ) Jim growled in clear and profound Vietnamese. The machete man let him go and stepped back, understanding exactly what Jim meant. First, he smirked, then he chuckled, slapping one of his pals on the arm, then he laughed at Jim, “ No, you cant! I won't let you! “ Then, everyone was laughing at us. I was thinking they were going to keep us prisoner, rape Johnette, behead us, all the terrible things my uncle Tom told me about, but within in a few hours, they had fed us, given us water, returned our bicycles, and sent us on our way. We were glad to be away from them and Jim and John bickered momentarily, but they made up quickly, and held each other crying. They wanted to blame me for it, but couldn't, because I never invited them. They invited themselves. Two days later, we encountered an old compound that may have served as a military base during the war. The walls were huge and grey, four towers standing high, but vacant. The place seemed deserted, so we ventured inside to look around. We quickly learned that this place had been a prison. There were hundreds of cells with broken doors and rusty bars, an executioner's gallows rotting away. In the massive courtyard we heard a door open at the far end and a small old man was looking at us, just standing there, shaking his head in disappointment. “ Hello! “ John called. The man looked shocked and upset when she called out, then spoke to himself, turning around, and darted back into his room. “ Spritely old fart, “ Jim said. “ Probably has a huge cock, too. “ John giggled and punched his arm. We knocked on the old man's door and it opened slightly, unlocked. “ Hello? “ I quizzed. “ Are you there? Can we please come in? “ There was a breeze and the door opened a little more, so I gently pushed it all the way open. The old man was unravelling bundles of rope, cutting them into lengths with a large knife, mumbling to himself. We entered and he seemed oblivious to us. His room smelled of kerosene. “ Are you the caretaker? “ I asked. John was amazed at the silk tapestry on the wall. Jim checked in a vase and coughed, “ I think those are human ashes in there. “ I was trying to decipher what the old man was saying, but for the life of me, I couldn't grasp his dialect, wondering aloud, “ What do you think he's saying? “ “ Sounds familiar, “ Jim said. “ Some shit about three ropes. “ The old man kept cutting the ropes with the knife, nimble about it, but also quite distressed, like we had made him get out of bed to do something he didn't want to do, as if us being there was a chore, never once ceasing his mumbling that same phrase over and over. I turned to Jim and he had John's arm, backing out the door in shock, motioning for me to follow them, Jim nodding his head, wide eyed in panic. He walked calmly to his bicycle, telling me to follow, don't look back, but I did look back, and as we rode away, I could see the old man wailing silently at us, on his knees, rope in hand. When the compound was out of sight, Jim stopped pedaling, taking a breath. “ That old guy is fucked, “ Jim said. “ I recognized what he was saying from this time I went to Thailand to visit a friend. Some prison guards were speaking to each other in a bar. That old man back there was talking Thai. He was wasn't talking about three ropes. Even for an old man, he is very dangerous. He was a prison executioner and he was saying he needed to hang three more, meaning us. That was a gutting knife he had. He was going to gut us and hang us, Eddie! “ In 1994, the war was long over, but for some...

It was the job of a lifetime for me, teaching people to speak English in Hanoi, Vietnam, and getting paid big money for it. In 1994, the war seemed long over, but for some, it was never going to end, soldiers becoming redundant, and innocent people becoming landlocked, their way of living and thought forever changed, so much so they could never rest, not until their job was done . Summer was in full swing there and two of my friends joined me, to help me settle in. They had been there twice before. Good old Jim Dyson and His wife John, short for Johnette. They were both older than me by about ten years. I was only twenty-six. An uncle of mine – Tom – had served in the Army during the war, got wounded at the Battle of Long Tan. He rarely spoke of it, but when he got drunk he did, and would troll off into his own little world, speaking in Vietnamese, because he had to learn the language, just in case he got caught. “ Eddie, “ he’d say, breathing alcoholic fumes on me, trying to look me in the eye, “ they tie ya to trees, boy. Then, they cut ya. From ya shithole to ya breakfast. “ Then, he’d look over his shoulder suspiciously, and smirk, “ We really should make a run for it. “ Uncle Tom was killed by a car walking to the shops in 1986. He had been sober for three years. Hurt my family deeply, Hanoi surprised me, because I thought I would be in a city of the past, with people selling rice, working bullock drays, on unpaved potholed roads, with throwback sixties bars, and tiny, pretty women in purple silk miniskirts promising to love me long time. It was nothing like that. The Dysons had warned me. It was very modern and very loud. And, man, it was loud. First day there, I saw a fight in the street. Two taxi drivers got into an argument over a potential fare and one stabbed the other in the back of the neck. The potential fare ran off and got on a bus. I wanted to step in and help the wounded driver, but Jim pulled me back, saying, “ No, Ed. It’s their business. They don’t like interference. Trust me. “ I trusted him, but I really think I should have helped. We settled into a hotel called the Hanoi Arms and I still had three weeks to go until I settled into the teacher’s cottage. The Vietnamese government, crawling along as it was, had found me a permanent place to stay, which I was and will be forever grateful for. It was much like a modern bedsitter unit. It had an expanse to place a bed, a lounge, a desk, and television, which I never had reception for, unless it was a black screen with Viet music playing. The place had a seperate kitchen and bathroom, though. And it had electricity. I met the renevator – Tran – when I turned up the first time, with Jim and John. “ Ready. Ready soon, “ he said, smiling, covered in paint, a man in his late forties. “ You cook here. Big cook. “ He dabbed paint at the wall, then said, “ Here, man cook all time. Good for wife. Wife cook good, man cook better. Must cook better. No cook, no good. No cook, no wife, “ then he chuckled, like this was the local knowledge and a joke to him. Tran smoked a cigarette while he painted, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, never once using his hands to deal with it, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth, squinting through one eye. When the cigarette was finished, he spat the butt with expert aim into a brass pot. I have never smoked, so I found it fascinating, and when I finally moved in at the start of term, there was not a shred of cigarette smoke in the place. I never met Tran again. At the community school, where I would be working, I met the head of education. She called herself Miss Maggie. She was taller then most Vietnamese women, had long and straight black hair, with legs that ran to her neck, and she had the greenest eyes. Jim and John met her with me and they later told me that meeting an asian woman with green eyes is very good luck, like marrying a white woman with blue eyes. It’s simply the polar cultural opposites of good fortune. Being only twenty-six at the time, I won’t lie, I wanted to fuck Miss Maggie bad. She was hot. With three weeks to go before the start of a new term, Miss Maggie said, “ You should cycle. Go get cycle, love. “ She said love. My heart was beating fast. Then, she said, “ The people there. In the country, they need you. I don’t need you here. I need you there. Introduce yourself, Mister Grantley. Be a teacher. “ “ Just call me Eddie, “ I said. “ No, you are Mister Grantley. You are a teacher, like I am, but I am better than you are. You know why? You are here, love, “ winking at me, knowing she was the boss, and that was all of it. Love… That word again. A learned word to soothe the nerves of the caucasian, like junkies use it to appease a dealer they owe money to, or to get product from, or to slide their foot through the door. We were attracted, I could see it, but she wanted me to do my job, earn the money, better her homeland, and prove it. “ Certainly, “ I said. “ It’s a very good idea. I’ll listen to your advice. Bicycle, was it? “ “ Yes, “ she said. “ Blend in. A motor car distinguishes you at my school. Get a bicycle. I see you have friends waiting for you. You should take them with you. I heard your other friend speaking Vietnamese. Make sure he goes with you. To be a good teacher, Mister Grantley, you must be like the students. If they crawl, you crawl with them, then they learn to walk. “ I understood her logic and that’s why I eventually married her. Jim and John were quick to rent bicycles for us and off into the Vietnamese countryside we went, leaving the noise of Hanoi behind. Before too soon the roads became dusty, dirty, pocked with holes, and irrigations. We laughed at how much those road jolted our bones. We stopped at villages, the villagers coming out, speaking to us, telling us where to go, and where not go, offering us their babies at times, freaking us out, always marvelling at the shininess of our bicycles, sunglasses, and watches, touching the fabric of our clothes. At one place, into our fourth day of cycling, at a village I still cannot pronounce, they held Jim and Johnette down, by the side of their toppled bikes, yelling, machetes high, willing to decapitate them both, then the villagers laughed and let us go. We wanted to go home then, but Jim was pissed, “ Fuck these little cunts! Fuck them! “ “ Shut up! “ Johnette shrieked. Then, they came back, and took us, shoved us to the ground again. Right there in the middle of nowhere. “ Be cool, “ I told my companions, “ Just be quiet for a moment. “ ( Please… ), I said in Vietnamese, especially to the older angry man with the machete above me, his dark face scrunched to kill, and me already having wet myself. ( We will ), from remembering all my uncle Tom’s drunken Vietnamese. I was here to teach it, not speak it. The angry man with the machete yelled, “ We will? We what? “ I asked, ( Teach speak please? )( Can we please help you? ) ( Hear me? ) He kicked my belly, called me a smarty pants, slapped the back of my head, and snorted that english was easy. The Americans taught him that. Jim was next. He grabbed Jim by the fringe and put the machete to my friend’s throat, yelling, “ You! What you do? “ John was pleading with the men roughing her up and Jim was seething with anger, his eyes making it clear. ( I can rip every tooth from your head and fistfuck your mouth for this, ) Jim growled in clear and profound Vietnamese. The machete man let him go and stepped back, understanding exactly what Jim meant. First, he smirked, then he chuckled, slapping one of his pals on the arm, then he laughed at Jim, “ No, you cant! I won’t let you! “ Then, everyone was laughing at us. I was thinking they were going to keep us prisoner, rape Johnette, behead us, all the terrible things my uncle Tom told me about, but within in a few hours, they had fed us, given us water, returned our bicycles, and sent us on our way. We were glad to be away from them and Jim and John bickered momentarily, but they made up quickly, and held each other crying. They wanted to blame me for it, but couldn’t, because I never invited them. They invited themselves. Two days later, we encountered an old compound that may have served as a military base during the war. The walls were huge and grey, four towers standing high, but vacant. The place seemed deserted, so we ventured inside to look around. We quickly learned that this place had been a prison. There were hundreds of cells with broken doors and rusty bars, an executioner’s gallows rotting away. In the massive courtyard we heard a door open at the far end and a small old man was looking at us, just standing there, shaking his head in disappointment. “ Hello! “ John called. The man looked shocked and upset when she called out, then spoke to himself, turning around, and darted back into his room. “ Spritely old fart, “ Jim said. “ Probably has a huge cock, too. “ John giggled and punched his arm. We knocked on the old man’s door and it opened slightly, unlocked. “ Hello? “ I quizzed. “ Are you there? Can we please come in? “ There was a breeze and the door opened a little more, so I gently pushed it all the way open. The old man was unravelling bundles of rope, cutting them into lengths with a large knife, mumbling to himself. We entered and he seemed oblivious to us. His room smelled of kerosene. “ Are you the caretaker? “ I asked. John was amazed at the silk tapestry on the wall. Jim checked in a vase and coughed, “ I think those are human ashes in there. “ I was trying to decipher what the old man was saying, but for the life of me, I couldn’t grasp his dialect, wondering aloud, “ What do you think he’s saying? “ “ Sounds familiar, “ Jim said. “ Some shit about three ropes. “ The old man kept cutting the ropes with the knife, nimble about it, but also quite distressed, like we had made him get out of bed to do something he didn’t want to do, as if us being there was a chore, never once ceasing his mumbling that same phrase over and over. I turned to Jim and he had John’s arm, backing out the door in shock, motioning for me to follow them, Jim nodding his head, wide eyed in panic. He walked calmly to his bicycle, telling me to follow, don’t look back, but I did look back, and as we rode away, I could see the old man wailing silently at us, on his knees, rope in hand. When the compound was out of sight, Jim stopped pedaling, taking a breath. “ That old guy is fucked, “ Jim said. “ I recognized what he was saying from this time I went to Thailand to visit a friend. Some prison guards were speaking to each other in a bar. That old man back there was talking Thai. He was wasn’t talking about three ropes. Even for an old man, he is very dangerous. He was a prison executioner and he was saying he needed to hang three more, meaning us. That was a gutting knife he had. He was going to gut us and hang us, Eddie! “ In 1994, the war was long over, but for some…

From Horror photos & videos May 10, 2018 at 10:00PM