#tw refrences to death

[satirn]

some sketches and wips or whatever lol

[pyro-thon]

Consequences of leaving for a moment.

HONESTLY SPENT WAY TO LONG ON THIS THINKING WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE IF SANFORD DID A LITTLE MORE WHEN HE SAW DEIMOS DEAD.

[zombiified]

yadira exists now

[lizziehatters-teacards]

Bite

Tw: mentions of abuse

Human bite

"Human bites can occur directly or indirectly. Biting among young children is the most common type of bite. But you can also get an indirect injury if your fist makes contact with another person’s mouth. Although most human bites aren’t serious, you should have any bite that breaks the surface of your skin looked at due to the risk of infection."

Are human bites dangerous?

"Human bite wounds can occasionally be more dangerous than you’d expect. Germs in the saliva of human mouths can increase your risk of infection. A wound may appear minor, but a bacterial infection can lead to more severe infections and complications."

You’ll likely experience symptoms at the site of your injury, including:

Pain.

Tenderness.

Bleeding.

Swelling.

If an infection develops in the bite wound, you may have:

Intense pain and swelling.

Pus around your wound.

Redness around your wound.

Skin that feels warm to the touch.

Fever, chills or a general sense of feeling unwell.

A bite on your finger can sometimes damage tendons and/or nerves. Signs include:

Loss of feeling in your fingertip.

Trouble bending or fully straightening your finger.

Via source

With respect to Shelby's first stream, and this docs

According to Shelby:

•Her ex-partner would bite her arms until they bruised, then press on them to cause her more pain.

•He never cleaned his house, even if he spilled/dropped something.

Bruised

You say?

We have the most obvious point that Shelby use to where clothing that revealed her arms and legs hence showing no signs of injury what so ever

Make up, although a powerfull source to hide bruises, can never hide the lumps and bumps or disfigured structure of the damaged area.

Also

As mentioned above, human bites cause infection, sometimes chronic enough to cause death. It is a fact, a human bite may be more dangerous than an animal bite.

Dieses that spring from human bites are:

HIV/ AIDS

Hepatitis B

Hepatitis C

Forget about bruises being visible

Has shubble ever considered going to the hospital? L

Another thing I wanna point out is that her ex alleged to have very unhygienic standards, refrence to the second point mentioned.

So the chances of Shelby developing a chronic infection due to these are higher than it may seem.

So why didn't she go to the hospital ?

Why didn't we get to hear her go to a hospital?

Yk like the responsible adult she is

{Probably bc the aligations are false}

[addisonstars]

till' death do we part

written for day 13 of december for @jegulus-microfic with the prompt "jail" totaling 827 words (oops)

tw: implied/refrenced homophobia

James gets a call from the county jail at 11:37 p.m. and to say that he wasn’t happy was a bit of an understatement. Regulus, Barty and Evan all went out for drinks tonight, claiming it was “boys night,” and James didn’t care. (He may have cared a bit though when Regulus went out in that outfit and James didn’t get to see it in action. 

But he definitely did care that Regulus said he’d be home before 11, and he had yet to receive a call, or even a text from Reg saying that he was still alive or that he would be a bit late. What he instead receives is a call from the county jail at almost midnight. 

He begrudgingly picks up, wondering who would be calling him from jail. “Hello this is James Potter-Black speaking.” 

A pause occurs on the line before Regulus, of all people, starts talking. “Hey babe,” he laughs sheepishly, sounding a little drunk. 

James almost laughs himself, if not for his head spinning with thoughts. What could Regulus be in jail for? Why would he be in jail? It was probably due to the influences of Barty and Evan, those motherfuckers. 

“You wanna explain something dear,” he rolls off the bed, slipping into some sweatpants and shirt. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he walks to his car, already driving to the police station. 

“Um, can you come get me?” He sounds nervous, a little embarrassed to be where he is right now. 

James rolls his eyes, “I’m already on my way, love.” 

“Oh thank you,” 

“Mhmm, but do you want to tell me why you're in there?” He flicks on his blinker as he makes a turn, waiting to hear Regulus’ voice through the speakers. 

“I’ll explain when you get here, ok? And do you mind bailing Evan and Barty out too?” 

James sighs, because of course they were all in jail too. “Whatever you want, baby; just you better have a real good explanation as to why you're for one, in jail, and two, in jail.”

“I do. I think.” 

“I’ll see you soon love, please don’t get beaten up while you're in there.” 

***

After James pays the fine and gets all three of them out of jail, they pile into his car. In the morning they will come back for Regulus’s. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “any three of you want to explain what the fuck you were doing in jail.” 

Barty and Evan hold their hands up, as if they did nothing wrong. Regulus looks away but starts talking. “I…um…punched someone.” 

James tightens his hands on the steering wheel. “Ok,” he said, and that's not what he thought it was for, “why did you?” 

“There was some guy calling me a…faggot… and some other shit like that.” He carefully avoids James' eyes on him. “He noticed my wedding ring and snorted and said that it was probably a guy that I was married to, and that I was just some…” he sniffles and trails off, visibly distressed and not wanting to repeat what the guy said to him. 

James has to keep himself from swerving off the road when Reg tells him that stuff. He doesn’t want to quite comment on that information yet, so he looks in the rearview mirror and pointedly stares at Barty and Evan, asking that they chime into this lovely conversation. “We just helped Regulus beat the guy up. Truly.” 

He believes that he really does; those guys would do anything for Regulus. They sit in silence the rest of the drive, going to drop Barty and Evan off at their flat. On the way to their own house, James reaches out to grab Regulus’s hand and squeezes his hand. 

“Hey love, Reg,” Regulus looks up at him, remorse etched in face. “I’m not mad at you, I’m not. I’m glad you stood up for yourself.” He smiles at Regulus. “Maybe next time, don’t, ya know, take it to where you're going to jail for it, but I’m not upset about it, I promise love.” 

Regulus nods. “And you don’t have to tell me what the guy said or anything. I don’t really want to know what he said or I might have to go beat the guy up himself,” he laughs, trying to brighten the situation. 

Looking over at Regulus, he still looks a little distraught. “Reg look at me.” Regulus obliges, looking James in the eye. “I love you. I love with all of my heart, and nothing will ever stop me from loving you. Not homophobes, not somebody's words, and not even death will ever stop me from loving you, ok? Nothing. I love you Regulus Potter-Black, and nobody will try to stop me.” 

Regulus nods again, “I know. I love you too, Jamie. Maybe even more than you love me.” He smirks.

James laughs, rubbing Reg’s ring on his fourth finger. “Never. There’s no way.” 

-a.s.

[sugarsong78]

Disclaimer: All characters are 18+, (This prompt is free to use)

TW’s: Refrences to violence and death, blood, questionable sexual content

“ Loak slithered out throughout the woods at night. His large snake body was a bit of a hassle at first but he’s already been through 3 blood moons so he’s used to it by now. Both he and his brother were tasked by thier father to subdue the skeptics and defectives for the greater good of the clan and eywa (So thier mother says). After neteyam and some other clan members stumble across a group a skeptics they were dealt with immediately. Neteyam urged loak to join them on this frenzied night but loak had other plans in mind. His mind pondered to (y/n), and this made him smirk. Before the blood moon arrived, loak remembered that you had told him how nervous you are about the blood moon, so you hid in a very dense cave space where no one will find you. Loak grinned a fanged smile and let out a heartfelt laugh, you just told him your whole plan how cute and naive. In a trance, loak made is way to the cave luckily it’s made much easier since he can taste your scent with the flick of his long tongue. He can hardly wait on devouring you”

“ As you backed up in a corner of the cave away from the blood red rays you began to fidget nervously but why? No one else should know about this hiding spot apart from you and loak. But why do you feel so nervous, then suddenly your thoughts were answered as you looked behind you. “ Hey mama!” Loak grins sinisterly and he licks his lips. You shrieked in terror and crawled back and you bump right into the cave wall. Loak moves close to you “ Oh baby, don’t back away from me besides on this day your gonna the most wonderful time of your life” loak says full of lust.

[your-absent-father]

Re introduction to False Gods.

Progress: second draft, 1/3 done

Genre: Drama, hitorical in a sense

Tropes: morally grey leads, mafia romances, friends to lovers to enemies, doomed since the beginning, unhinged female lead.

Tw: lots of violence, refrences to transphobia, child abuse, destriptions of child neglesence, guns and violence. Death

Plot:

The False Gods felt for a long time like a band that will dominate the world. With their elaborate masks and mysterious personas, the band members were the people's favorite mystery. After a shocking expose and arrest of almost all the members of bankrobbery and murder, the lead singer Beatrix Jones confesses to everything, seemingly content on getting the death penalty.

As the truth unfolds, Love Bradley, well known podcaster of her own crime podcast, becomes determined to uncover the real story behind the band's secrets, and the reasons why Beatrix is eager to cover for the rest of the band. With the opportunity to interview Beatrix Jones, Love's investigation takes a turn, leading her down a dangerous path of deception, murder, and the dark underbelly of the entertainment industry, eager to find answers. Why the singer beat up her best friend? What is the connection between the band and the notorious syndicate of Hollywood? Annd most importantly, who exposed all of this into public knowledge.

Main Characters:

Love Bradley - Editor, writer and host of "Love and murder"-true crime podcaster who becomes facinated by the stories the band is hiding. She is ready to find eberything out, no matter what.

Beatrix Jones - The lead singer of The False Gods, before known as Roseblood. She is an enigma of a woman, even when she could talk your ear off. She won't reveal anyone else's involment, intent on going to grave with that information.

Stevie Dylan - Well meaning guitarist. Beatrix's oldest friend and confidadnt, altough separated in the present day. He is a calm version of Beatrix. He is secretly the son of Nicholas Harkness, an hollywood mafioso.

Nikita Grant -The group's bassist, already done with the mess she wasn't even making. She had a young daughter Ivy but is now in constant fear of people taking her because of her arrest.

Louis Knight - quiet but bright Louis Knight. Greatdrummer, who disappeared before the cops arrested everyone else.

Elize Grant - the groups manager and Stevie's girlfriend. She always wants to think someone is purely good, even tough her cliants make it hard to think so.

Other notable characters:

Vivienne Perez - Love's bestie and the producer of love and murder

Mickey Jones - Beatrix's lawyer and father

Evalyn Harkness - leader of Harkness syndicate, Stevie's half sister and Nikita's situationship

Valentine Lee - the smooth mafia leader and Evalyn's second in command.

Ivy Grant - Nikita's daughter

Vince May - toxic ex husband of Nikita. Is in jail for arson he didn't commit.

The tag: wip: fg

Let's see how many looked here lmao.

[winwinwrites]

Unconventional & Unaware - Chapter 1

Pairing: Wyll/Astarion

Word count: 16k

Fic Summary:

Wyll picked up pretty quickly that alphas belong with omegas. How could he not, when all of his beloved romance novels only revolve around that? There is simply no room for a simple beta like him. It is nothing new, nor something he minds. Wyll just wants to find his beta love and spend a happy life with them. Even if his heart yearns for something he knows he can't have.

Tags: Omegaverse, Beta/Omega, Pre-heat, One sided Rejection (but not really), Crushes, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication

TW: Alcohol mentioned, Grooming, Past Child Abuse mentioned, Implied R*pe/Asult, Refrenced Eating Disorders, Mentioned Past Death

>> Read on Ao3 <<

My Ao3 || Other Baldur's Gate 3 Fics

[dungeons-are-too-cold]

tw major charcter death refrenced

i think maybe i shouldn't be allowed to write before breakfast

[bobbybutterfly]

More Saki Sanobashi fanart!

Where's that new chapter of my Stardew Valley fanfiction?

Um...

I gave a name to that super cheereful girl with dyed hair that apears in some of the summaries of the anime. Momoko! I came across it while I was searching for some refrences for this picture on Pintrest. It sounds like the perfect name for a cheeky little monkey.

TW: mentions of suicide

In my version of Saki Sanobashi, Saki is the white haired girl that represents death and thus is trying to convince the girls trapped in the bathroom to kill themselves. Momoko is the opposite, representing life. If you choose to listen to her, you will work on your problems and might even get out the bathroom.

The bathroom being a purgatory where you end up upon attempting suicide in the real world.

I plan on making more OCs for the fanfiction. I remember in one of the summaries there's like a lesbian couple, which of course I have to include. Then a stuffy popular girl because I have some intresting ideas for her. And some other characters I will come up with later. I feel like I got to have at least one more girl because Saki and Momoko aren't real people. They're more like spirits.

It is a little sad because some of the characters will have to die because some people just can't be saved. The last time I wrote a story where a character had HUGE mental health problems he didn't want to actively work on so it just got worse, I spiraled into quite a bad OCD episode. That being said I was going through some other stuff too. So if I'm going to go through with writing this fanfiction I got to watch out.

Lastly, I totally ship Saki and Momoko. It's an angel and devil dynamic. Plus they're lesbians! It's perfect!

Anyway, Bobby out!

[i-am-creacheur]

Im gay and can't decide so I'm going to do my favorite one from each album

TDaTD: "By My Cur". This song is meant to be inspired by Joel's dog army, and also ties into the the whole dog theme. Also the definition of cur is "an aggressive dog, or one that is in bad condition" which he is very much.

SpySorc: a tie between "Run Away with Me?" and "Wailing Wizard". The first one is about Martyn promising to go with Jimmy if he gives back the stolen life, and the second one is- well- also just Joel. Maybe a hint of Scar as well.

TW: Honestly is gotta be "Secluded Scarlet". It's about Scarlet Pearl, but less of her violent side, more into the emotions of her abandoment. "Moon Eclipsing" is (most likely in lyrical) about a girl trying to kill the man who cheated and abandoned her, only for him to kill himself, breaking her heart. It leans more into the rage, while "Secluded Scarlet" would be like a little song she sings to Tilly while crying before she goes fully crazy. I honestly love both of them equally

NaB: ONE HUNDRED PERCENT "The Judged, The Juror, The Executed". I really like this album more than the others- "Grow Lights" (a tally hall esque song where they put on the characters of three guys growing drug plants in their basement) and "Sleeping Eyes Open" (refrence to Grian's afk) are really good, and I LOVE the idea of "Worthless, Useless" being a solo vocal peice by Jimmy that's basically him dealing with his final death (because his reaction in video makes me want to cry). But all of these are shadowed by the beauty of "The Judged, The Juror, The Executed". It's named after Jimmy's beloved frog, and I haven't decided what it would be about yet, but you bet it's gonna be a banger.

SF: NEVER TO FALL AGAIN!!!!!!! Okay so I decided it would be really fun to have a song in each album that's specifically about Jimmy's final death- the lyrics aren't all about him, definitely, there's a lot of "Oh Hello" type bs in there (I love the Oh Helloes. Misinterpreting biblical stories my beloved), and so that's what the fall series is. I imagine this song to be almost transcendental... it's quiet and gentle, carrying you along in familiarty, but it intensifies, the lyrics changing from mythological and religious refrences to deep, emotional, heartfelt experiences Jimmy has had. It's an amazing vocal performance, and the song ends with the namesake "Scream" or "Death Cry"- a long, held out note, incredibly high, almost like the song of a bird. He petforms a few similar ones earlier on in the song, just a bit lower. The name is also a refrence to his death by the Wardens shriek. Overall the idea of this song has haunted me for so long. I have multiple songs I can scrape together that have the vibe I want this one to get across/imagine it top have... also the eggshell song is inspired by grians stupid little egg base. It was originally titled "this one kid dropped an egg on my head from the top of the stairwell in middle school and I never forgave him"

Foolish: honestly I'm not sure. I mostly slapped them together... probably "Arachnaphobia" because it was one inspired by the one comment made about bigb being on the ceiling like a spider. Its niche and I like it

OitW: I don't even know. Wild Life is my favorite season and it shows. It might have to be "Hunger Lust" because it's such a weird phrase. It inspired by both that really weird interaction they had (but I made another song just about them threatening to cannibalize each other/implicitly talking about sexual favors) but is mostly the weird food episode. I wanted a song for each wild card, and fortunely Oli made that a lot easier!!!!

Singles: I don't think I can answer this one. I might have to say "Pull String" because of the little in universe lore I came up for it (it was going to part of a esmp2 themed EP, but Jimmy felt incredibly uncomfortable with the turns it was taking. He only told the other two bad boys once the test vocals were recorded, and the other two finished songs were released as singles, while "Pull String" was released as a demo (Jimmy okayed it because he was pretty proud of his vocal performance)). But also I came up with a lyric for "Man and his Devils" as follows : You make think you are a god, but that just means you lack a heart. I like that pair of songs, they are what I named my big playlist after <3

And yeah that's it! I forgot to mention that Jimmy is the vocalist and backup guitarist, Grian is the guitarist (occasional vocal support), and Joel is the drummer and backup vocals. In universe there's an entire tour they do where it's mostly Jimmy and Joel dueting (Grian would but he's also Ariana Griande and so can't really sing that much lest someone finds out), and they get Skizz and Impulse on to cover the drums! That's all for now whoops

kinda bored and feeling better so here's my full discography for the bad boys band au I have mentioned to basically nobody.

Each of the albums ties to a life series season. You can ask me about any of these titles and I bet I can give you the background info!

[reverse-moon]

Tis time, friends.

Time to talk and flesh out an AU!!!

Vamp/Vamp Hunter (Intruality) AU

Let's go!

---

Now, first, I'd like to talk about who the Sides (+Emile and Remy) are character wise in the AU.

The vampires are Virgil, Janus, Remus and Roman.

(ignore that Virgil's hood makes him look wider than the others, it's so his hair doesn't fly out from behind it-)

Going into "detail", I've figured ages out for everyone so...

Text key:

[Picture: Character info will be on]

Typewriter font: File information

"Quote" indent: Basic character info that isn't in the hunter files necessarily.

Virgil Astra, birthdate unknown.

Vampire.

Last known age: 525 years.

Gender Logged: Male

He was probably around to create the goth and emo cultures. Also ripped his jeans once, said "eh" and created that trend.

100% got turned into a vampire by Roman because "fuck death by natural shit, lemme help alleviate that fear-" and he said "hot guy, less reason to panic... Hell yeah."

Also probably the most likely to go ape shit at lack of food. Don't ask about the mass murder of May 1698. You will 💀.

Super gay. Had a fling with Hercules Mulligan. He doesn't kiss and tell though.

Janus Draco, birthdate unknown.

Vampire.

Last Known Age: 879 years.

Gender Logged: Male (Note: Subject prefers They/Them pronouns as of year 2016. Possible transition to a non-binary gender alignment?)

Was so ready to stab a bitch in the revolution. Which one? You decide, they've seen most of them.

Yeah, they're male. Yes, they would rather you use they/them pronouns. No, the files are not correct about a transition.

Hella gay. Also tends to use his looks on the gay hunters to off them and provide comfort to his little 4-person-coven. Oh, and other vampires I guess.

Has fallen in actual love to three people. All of which he was lucky were not hunters. One of which he turned, but was abandoned by for a "stronger" vampire and his coven.

Remus Wharton, birthdate unknown.

Vampire

Last Known Age: 870

Gender Logged: Male

Great fire of London? First massacre of a race? Jeffrey Dahmer? Yeah, he was involved some how. He won't ever tell how. He just was.

Despite being gay (and honestly into really gross things), has not had many romantic or sexual relations. Can count on one hand.

Roman dared him to eat deodorant once. He did. He claims it was 20 pounds well spent.

May or may not have contributed to the monster fucking community once internet was made by writing a bunch of stories under thousands of pseudonyms. The art community as well once he learned how to make decent digital art.

"Cthulhu ain't ever been as hot as I made him look." "Remus, he's got tits." "Did I stutter?"

Roman Wharton, birthdate unknown.

Vampire.

Last Known Age: 870

Gender Logged: Male

Gay. Gay as fuck. Dude is probably part of the reason the monster fucker breed exists.

Virgil is his mate for life, but he doesn't mind the casual hook up. Besides, Roman and Virgil agreed to an open relationship. As long as details are shared, they could care less what humans the other fucks.

He 100% helped Lin Manuel Miranda write Hamilton to be queer coded for Hamilton and Laurens. He was there after all, he saw the gay eyes between them. Also he may or may not have comforted Laurens at the wedding party after all the drinks he had 👀

His coven = his life. Yeah, he may not like Janus, but Janus saved him and Remus and let Virgil join, so I mean... Mad respect, even if he don't like the guy. Also they may have had a bad fling, so- ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

---

Next we have the hunters: Emile, Logan and Patton.

Same text key as the vampire section!

Hunter: Patton Morgan Picani

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Hunter Level: 2

Patton is bby. He tried his hardest to not be treated as such, and has even made it to Hunter Rank 2 (which isn't low ranking. It's a reverse counting system [rank 5 = newb or worst, rank 1 = master or best]. He's very thankful.)

He's taken down a lot of vampires and other mean monsters to save humanity. He has also done less then reputable things to get close to said monsters and would rather not talk about those moments, thank you.

Blames himself for Logan's blind eye. It was his first rank 2 mission, he got paired with Logan and a vampire got him distracted while the other vampire nearby attacked Logan. Both vampires escaped, but thankfully those two weren't their mission, so it didn't cause them demerits.

He's like... Repressed gay? By-the-book hunter parents make being gay not exactly good? And despite them no longer being in the world of the living, it's hard for him to openly be himself in that way. However, Logan, Emile and Emile's boyfriend do all know.

Hunter: Emile Bennie Picani

Age: 32

Gender: Male

Rank: 2.5 (close to rank up)

He is literally so sweet. Man has saved over 1,000,000 lives. And sometimes even sends fucking care packages to the villages he saves. Bby... 🥺

Hella gay. Dude is also really open about it. His love is his rock. :3

Is also super well versed in medical treatment. Tended to Logan's eye not long after the attack. Logan has him to thank for not needing a glass eye or eye patch.

Loves his little brother. Patton is his only living family currently. So forgive him if he feels uncomfortable with Patton going on solo missions at Rank 2, where almost every monster or vampire is a huge threat to a community. He just wants to keep his brother safe.

Hunter: Logan Edgar Kowalski

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Rank: 2

Logan is book smart. He knows creatures powers, and can usually discern what a creature is after seeing it's interactions for a few minutes. He's also a secret buff guy.

Logan is so fucking gay, but has learned to push his feelings aside enough to not let it hinder his work. That being said...

The vampires who came at him and Patton at the end of that one mission actually were not the attackers. There was some sort of rogue vampire who was actively seeking out queer Vampires to try and kill them. The one vampire dodged out of the way of an attack and Logan got hit. The one vampire, however, drained the poison from Logan's system with as little blood taken as possible, so he's kinda grateful. Didn't stop Patton from chasing them off and everything because "they attacked you." He also may or may not have fallen for said vamp who saved him and has a copy of the files for that vampire and their coven.

He has not told anyone besides Emile and his boyfriend that the vampire saved his life from certain death that night, since no one else would believe him. He's thankful that Emile and the other did believe him and offered to give him advice should he encounter them again.

---

Lastly. Remy. He's actually... Very different.

Hunter: Remy Vaughn Reagen

Age: 150

Gender: Male

Rank: Rogue Hunter

Reason for denial for Hunter Guild entry: Turnt and raised by vampire.

Reason for Hunter license allowance: Has proven ability to control Vampiric side and tendencies, as well as having shown true allegiance to humanity.

Remy is Emile's boyfriend. (Big shocker, I know. /sar)

Hella gay.

Was saved by a loner vampire when 4 years old from terminal illness by being turnt. Was then raised by said vampire to become a vampire hunter of evil monsters and vampires.

Actually doesn't drink blood straight. Needs to have it mixed with coffee. He's found a way to use coffee as a blood substitute as well, so he drinks blood maybe once every 3 months?

Is absolutely a menace.

Over protective of Emile. His mate, no touch.

Loves his soon-to-be brother-in-law. Patton is very pure and kind and Remy is like 96% sure that's what will kill him in the field.

---

And with that... I'll do the ships later, this is a long enough post man. 😅😅😅

[gxdcxmplex]

the implication that quackity beat dream with a potato just like tommy. it will forever live rent free in my head holy-

[koolkat9]

"Tally Ho to the Martyr"? ^^

Okay this went...somewhere. I mean it isn’t bad, but it does take place in WWI and discusses how soldiers often felt in the trenches mixed with how I think nations would have viewed it. I took a little inspiration from “All’s Quiet on the Western Front”

cw: death (nothing graphic but it is mentioned), war, historical references

- historical piece

- Taking place during a war or something (probably WWI)

- Kind of inspired by All Quiet on the Western Front-> focus on the effect and toll on soldiers

- Open with Francis and Arthur in the trenches, wet, cold and miserable

- The only sound is the sound of gunfire in the distance and the shaky breaths of soldiers

- Arthur goes to grab a cigarette, but finds it empty so Francis offers him one

- They hear a soldier crying quietly nearby

“Poor lad. They’re getting younger every day.”

Francis remained quiet, though his face contorted into a scowl. He took a long drag on his cigarette before muttering, “It's stupid.”

“Hmm?”

“It's stupid. The war. The ones who want this. The ones that benefit from this are tucked away safely in their big houses with their good food, clean clothes, and money. All the while these men...these boys are dying each day. For what? Defending their nations against enemies who barely know or believe in their own goal? Hollow glory? You saw them on Christmas...I-Its…They’re”

“I know… I haven’t forgotten that night.”

- They lapse into silence once more

- A shot rings out and there is a scream, then another shot

- Francis flinches and closes his eyes, not daring to look around at where the sounds came from, and Arthur tenses up

“It won’t last forever. You and I both know it.”

“Usually I would agree wholeheartedly, but this is not war. Not the way we know it. This is hell on earth.   

I always feel nervous posting historical pieces because of the lasting effects of the events. I try to handle it delicately and respectfully, but even with good intentions there is still the risk. I’ve just always found history so interesting especially the world wars and the perspectives of people living during that time (especially soldiers and their views in wwI which also inspired this fic). And I’m rambling...hope you liked it!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Just Right: Chris

CW: Head-banging stim referenced, stimming in general in a negative context, derogatory language about stimming, referenced past abuse/noncon, institutional whump, referenced whump of a minor, conditioning, memory loss, traumatic deaths of family referenced, traumatic memory recovery, getting glass out of  foot referenced

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxck-fxck, @slaintetowhump

PREVIOUS (COME BACK)​

No one comes back.

He waits and waits, but no one comes back. People stand on the sidewalk, for a while, the old lady and her grandson and some other people besides. Chris doesn’t listen to them, although the sounds filter in, bounce around his mind, occasional words and half-formed sentences that he doesn’t want to understand.

Instead, Chris focuses as hard as he can on the memory of Jake promising Chris won’t be left alone. It’s difficult to focus - he’s scared and didn’t sleep last night, and the birds are loud outside and there’s so much glass that catches the light and bounces pretty white reflections off all the walls - but he tries, he tries so hard, to remember that Jake won’t make him be alone forever.

They can’t keep Jake away forever.

Can they?

The people leave. Breakfast is there, and lunch, and dinner, right on the porch where the old woman said they’d be. Chris drifts through the day, and his thoughts cycle and circle and he can’t keep them still long enough to decide what to do beyond just… staying alive. He has to stay alive. He has to wait. 

The first night, he doesn’t sleep. He waits, and waits, and tries to remember how to calm his thoughts, but nothing comes.

All he can think of is that Antoni and Leila were supposed to wait for him, but it took too long, and once the door broke down they had to go. Somewhere they’re safe, somewhere else, with the other ones, the ones Chris has heard about but hasn’t met. Kauri, who never sits still, Kauri is safe, too, somewhere else. Chris is the only one left.

Chris is the only one here to wait.

He tries to clean but he doesn’t remember how to do it very well. He washes the dishes in the sink, he can do that - and he empties out the coffee pot, full and long-since gone cold, and sets the coffee up for the next day, even though he knows no one will be here to drink it, but maybe if he makes the coffee someone will come back.

The first day, he brews the coffee, and no one comes. But maybe the second day will be different. He dumps the pot again and goes through the motions.

They destroyed the house and the television is turned over and shattered all along its front, they cut up the couch cushions even. Nothing is the same, and everything is wrong. Chris tries to sweep up the glass in Jake’s room from the lamp and steps in it instead, letting out a wild, high-pitched cry at a stab of pain straight up his leg. He can’t get the glass out, he’s too scared to touch it, and he hobbles around leaving bloody trails everywhere he goes, limping, whimpering and wishing there was anyone, anyone left.

If Jake was here, he’d sit Chris down in the bathroom and use his cell phone as a flashlight and use tweezers and Chris would watch him stick his tongue out a little like he does when he’s thinking really hard about something. Then Leila would fuss over him and Antoni would sing him songs in Russian, which Antoni doesn’t know anymore but still remembers the songs. Chris doesn’t know what Russian looks like, but he knows the sounds of the notes Antoni sings, the way his mouth shapes the letters.

Tak byvayet - staneshʹ vzrosleye ty

I, kak ptitsa, vvysʹ uletishʹ

Kem by ni byl, znay, chto dlya mamy ty 

Kak i prezhde, ilyy malysh

Chris is bad at remembering things and bad at knowing words and bad at most things, he thinks, sometimes, but when he does remember something it pops in fully-formed, and he remembers Antoni singing the songs to himself, songs he doesn’t remember in his head but his body still knows, anyway.

See, we are still in here, Antoni says, tapping the side of his own head with one finger, flashing a smile. They didn’t take it all out, it’s only hidden, Chrisha.

Why do you call me that?

I don’t… I don’t know. But I will, Chrisha. I will know, soon, and I’ll tell you once I do.

But Antoni can’t tell him, because he’s gone. Everyone is gone. There’s no one but him, now.

He’s alone, and he’s not made to be alone, they told him he couldn’t be alone or he’ll suffer and shrivel up and die, and Chris hits his head on the wall and taps his fingers desperately on the floor and cries into the hardwood, but none of it helps, because he’s still alone when he stops tapping, stops hitting, stops listening, when he stops.

All alone. 

Just like last time, some dim part of him remembers, but there wasn’t a last time, and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking about. It’s just part of the cycle of too many thoughts at once, dipping in and out of his conscious mind. It’s just another thing that slides in and around the calls of the birds and the rustle-clatter of a squirrel leaping across tree branches, the splashing sound of something in the birdbath in the yard, Doves mean peace and pigeons get no love, but they’re the same bird, baby, just a little different coloration. That’s you, honey, just a different way of being in the world and we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure you out, little dove-

He doesn’t know whose voice he keeps thinking of and he misses her so much it’s a physical pain inside his chest, making his mouth open to cry long after the tears have dried. He makes strange dry sobbing sounds, hiccups really, that come with no tears but grief pours from him in a wave, grief that he didn’t know could still be in there for a woman he doesn’t remember, doesn’t recognize, has never met.

He doesn’t know who she is and it’s his fault she’s gone.

His fault Jake is gone, they were looking for him, he knows it somehow. It’s certainty, deep in his bones. They always said if he ran, someone would find him and bring him back to Sir, and he was so good, he didn’t run, Miss Megan asked him to get in her car and Baldur was always so good for guests, and, and it’s not his fault but it’s his fault Jake is gone.

He can’t think, the circles run too fast, there are too many thoughts and not one will let him pin it down. Instead they bounce and jump and leap and crash and bash the inside of his skull, tired not tired hurt my fault not my fault where did he go come back you promised you promised you’d come back don’t leave me I don’t know where I am I don’t know how to do this the squirrels are loud today the birds are quiet do the birds know did the mourning dove know you’d be taken away from me too just a different way of being, honey, mom come back mom don’t leave jake don’t leave me alone you promised you promised you promised you promised

you promised

No one comes back. Not the first day Chris is alone, not the second.

Chris falls asleep, eventually, after the sun goes down on the second day. He curls up on the floor near the spot of dried blood, wrapping himself in Jake’s blankets until even the floor beneath him feels nearly soft. He lays his head down on Nat’s pillow and Jake’s, too, breathing in their scents and tapping on the floor, on himself, on the wall. 

He won’t leave the last bit of Jake he can see, the spot where his head hit the wall. He’ll stay right here, in the house, and stay close.

He fell asleep beside the blood before, too, in the thing he can’t remember, the reason for the pain so deep in his chest, twisting his heart in knots until he wonders if people can die like this, can die of pain in their hearts that comes from inside their heads.

Sleep is thin and drawn, it’s the way he slept in training, and Chris shifts and murmurs and cries in his dreams, blood and bone and bits of worse gray bits on the wall, screaming woman shouting man men with guns, but they turn the gun on him, the men, and they say what the fuck is a kid doing here? You have a kid, you goddamn bastard? 

And Jake is the shouting man and he is yelling of course I have a fucking kid, what did you think all the fucking trophies were for, did you think I’m the one who’s gonna be in the Olympics?

Flash and burst of sound, deaf in the dark. Chris flinches in his sleep, from moments that aren’t real because he doesn’t remember them, and false memories happen when you’ve been erased. It’s not real. None of it happened. It’s not real.

The phone rings in the early hours of the morning - there have been two sunrises since they took Jake and Nat away - and wakes him with a start, but Chris doesn’t dare answer it. He only stares at the old bit of plastic and wiring that hangs on the wall as though it might come to life and bite him, and eventually it stops ringing, the answering machine picks up, and whoever called hangs up without saying a thing.

Chris falls back asleep.

This time, he doesn’t dream.

The next time he wakes up, he can hear murmuring voices, and he goes still and quiet and tense on the floor, keeping his face turned down, letting his hair hide his eyes so no one will know he’s awake. 

“Shit, they did a fuckin’ number, didn’t they?” It’s a man’s voice, rough-edged and angry, and Chris fights the urge to curl in on himself, to hide all the soft parts and hope he will not be hit or kicked or hurt for being bad again. 

“Why would they do this?” A woman, and her voice is softer, sweeter. Chris swallows. They were only a few female handlers, but they spoke in quieter voices and were meaner, too. So much meaner, even when they didn’t have to be, even when he tried to be good. “What were they trying to accomplish, Ruth?”

“Y’know damn well.” That’s the old woman whose grandson has brought him food, and Chris carefully shifts around. They don’t know he’s right where he can see them, the pile of blankets is wrapped so tightly it looks like nothing more than another pile of the debris left behind. He moves just enough to look, through his hair, at a small crowd of people just outside the broken front door.

His eyes struggle to understand, but they seem to be holding… plastic buckets, and mops, and other things for cleaning. The thoughts bounce and jump, but he tries to grab on, to grasp them even though his heart is sick with fear and his mind wants to tumble after it.

“It’s fear, is what it is,” The first person, the man, snaps. “They want us to be fuckin’ afraid to be like Natalie, that’s what they want. I’m not afraid of them.”

“Easy to say when you don’t have kids to worry about,” The younger woman, maybe Jake’s age, replies, but she doesn’t look scared to Chris. She looks strong. She looks brave, holding her mop and bucket with a little baby strapped on her back, staring into the house over her shoulder, scruff of dark hair standing up nearly straight on its little rounded head.

“My Wilbur went through some of this,” The old woman - Ruth? - says, nodding firmly. “There’s no shame in fear, but there is shame in lettin’ fear keep you standing outside the door when there’s work to be done. Jaden’ll be back with his little friends to help in a bit, I’ve promised ‘em all the pizza they can eat. Now. This door isn’t locked, but it does make a hell of a screamin’ sound, so I think we’ll prob’ly wake the poor thing up, wherever he’s hiding.”

The woman’s eyes roam across the walls, then catch on the spot of Jake’s blood on the wall. Chris feels a wild urge to yell don’t look at it, that makes it real, but he doesn’t know why. Instead he curls up tighter, tapping under the blankets against his own skin. Finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap.

Now, Baldur, honey, you know better than to do that. I don’t like it when you do that, do I?

No, Sir, no, y-you, you don’t, you don’t like when I, when, when when when-

Baldur. Silence is better than stammering.

… Yes, Sir. I’m sorry my… words are bad, Sir.

That’s better.

Chris bites down hard on his lower lip, catching the protest before it can be spoken out loud, because the woman he doesn’t remember said you have to talk or no one can hear you, and Nat always says to speak how he wants to, and Jake says his words are fine, they’re fine, he’s fine even if he’s not the way they are, he’s fine he’s fine he’s not fine and Jake is never coming back but he promised, he promised, he promised-

Something about his movements must get her attention, because he hears the woman in the doorway catch her breath. “He’s right here, Ruth.”

Chris slowly raises his head. His foot aches where the glass is still stuck inside it, and it protests as he pushes up to sitting and has to move his legs, keeping the blankets wrapped around himself, pushing his back into the wall. 

“Oh, baby.” Ruth smiles at him, one of those sad smiles you give people when you feel sorry for them, and Chris pulls further into himself, dropping his head back against the wall, taking the momentary feeling for the comfort he so badly needs it to be. “I’m back, honey. I brought you some sausage biscuits for breakfast, and I brought some friends, too. This here is Naomi, she lives on your left in the house with the blue porch ceiling-” The woman with the baby waves the mop in a kind of greeting, nearly knocking the angry man in the head. “-and that’s her little girl Kaelah. And this touch of grump is Jefferson, he lives right across the street.” The angry man waves, too.

Chris, tentatively, raises a hand to wave back, his fingers just barely bending at the knuckles.

“Now, I know you’re scared, honey, I understand, but we’re here to help you clean this place back up before your people come back. Can we come in?”

Chris’s eyes roam from one face to the next, looking for signs of cruelty, looking for the kind of smile his Sir would give him. He sees nothing but openness on all of them - Jefferson with the bit of anger, but it’s not really at him, it’s at the house, what happened here. Naomi with her slight smile for him, and her little girl Kaelah grabbing at fistfuls of Naomi’s hair and sticking it in her own tiny mouth to chew on. Ruth, the same wrinkles and gray-and-black hair, the same open kindness, compassion, looking at him with the same look she’d given her own grandson the day before.

They wait, and eventually Chris presses his lips together and nods. The door scrapes loud along the floor, and he flinches back from the sound, pulling Jake’s blanket as tightly around him as it will go. 

“I’ll take the living room,” Jefferson says, his eyes roaming over the shattered television, the cut-up couch cushions and stuffing littered everywhere. “Ben and I bought a new couch a week ago, the old one’s just been sitting in the den while we figure what to do with it. I’ll call some people, have it moved in here.”

“We got a TV we don’t need in our bedroom,” Naomi says, looking around as well. “I’ll start in the-…” Her eyes move to the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring at the shattered wreck of ceramic, the little path that Chris had made by pushing all the wreckage to the side. The coffeemaker with its full pot still piping hot, untouched. “… we got extra plates, too, I’ll get those. I’ll call my girl Kari, that woman’s a hoarder waiting to happen and she’s got half a whole house sitting on her porch taking up space. Did they leave this poor kid anything?”

Chris clears his throat, swallows around the nervous lump there, and says, hoarsely, “Th-they, they, they left the, um, the, the food in the fridge.”

“Well, that’s a small mercy and I’ll say a prayer for that,” Ruth says, stepping inside herself, rubbing her hands together, a wedding ring with a diamond glittering on her left hand. “Let’s pray the Lord shows His mercy on the ones who did this.”

“I don’t see why we should,” Jefferson snaps, already in the living room, his boots crunching on something before he lifts his foot to sigh. “Glass is fucking everywhere.”

“We should pray for the Lord to show mercy,” Ruth says, in the voice of a woman who will brook no appeal, “because I sure as hell wouldn’t. Leavin’ a boy here in this wreck all alone.” Ruth screwed her mouth up like she might want to spit. “Imagine it, just imagine leaving a boy here all on his lonesome.”

“Th-they… they didn’t know, know I was here,” Chris says, softly. “I was hiding. I have a hiding place.”

“Hiding,” The man says tightly. “You hear that, Miss Ruth? Hiding while they fuckin’ trashed everything around him. Fucking hiding. You know who else had to fuckin’ hide in goddamn-”

“Don’t you curse the Lord’s name near me, young man.”

“… sorry, Miss Ruth.”

“Besides, I know, Jefferson. If you think I don’t know damn well… but gettin’ ourselves all worked up won’t help this boy in the here and now, will it?”

A muscle twitches in the angry man’s cheek. It reminds Chris of Jake, even though they are so different, Jake all blond hair and scruffy stubble and Jefferson looks like a cowboy in the movies Jake watches late at night, skinny-hipped in worn-out blue jeans with a giant belt buckle and hard-lined set to his jaw. But the anger - the deep-down rage - that’s the same. 

It’s not rage he has to be scared of, but rage meant to protect him, and Chris’s heart twists in a good way this time. 

“Yes, Miss Ruth.” Jefferson frowns.

Ruth sighs, her eyes roaming, taking in the enormous task ahead of them. Well… we’d best get started, the day won’t get any younger.” She holds out her hand and Chris looks up at her, hesitating before he lets her take his hand and help him onto his feet. He stands with one leg bent, to keep the weight off the glass still embedded in his heel. Jake’s blanket falls down around him to puddle on the floor at his feet. “Baby boy, what are you wearing?”

In the kitchen, Naomi is already on the phone, speaking to someone in hushed hurried tones, while baby Kaelah bats happily at her mother’s shoulders with her hands, legs swinging bare out the sides of the carrier she’s settled in.

Chris looks down, then back up. “Wh-what I, what I always wear to, to to to sleep in.” Jake’s shirt, the one he’d shoved into Chris’s hands before, before, before-

Before they took you away from me.

“Sweetie, you look like a toddler tryin’ t’wear his daddy’s clothes,” Ruth says gently. “Y’got anything left of your own, or did they tear that up, too?”

Chris shakes his head, slowly, his eyes moving to the stairs. “I, I have clothes. Um. I have clothes but, but, but but but I don’t want to, to walk on the stairs, it’ll, um, I have, I have, um, there’s there’s glass in my, in my, in my my my-”

“Glass in your foot?” Ruth asks, gently. “You step on somethin’, honey?”

Chris nods, balancing on one foot and twisting his other leg to show her the mess of his heel, with the glass still deeply inside.

“Oh honey, that had to hurt,” Ruth murmured. “Jefferson, can you-”

“Got it, Miss Ruth. You’re the CO on this little enterprise.”

“Don’t you ‘CO’ me, Jefferson, this ain’t the army.”

Jefferson laughs, and Chris feels like the walls are soaking up the sound, and his breathing eases. His lungs feel less constricted, less held still. He feels a little less frozen. He is aware without knowing that there was a time when no one came the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. 

But this time isn’t going to be like that. It’s going to be different, and he’s going to remember this.

Naomi pops her head back into the entryway. “Kari’s packin’ up, and I told them a bit of what happened - just that the cops trashed the place and left a kid behind, that’s all, they don’t know what Nat does. Kari’s husband wants to come help, too, and he’s bringin’ a buddy. Guy knows somebody who knows somebody in the movement, I guess. They’re callin’ around to see if any of the lib people will come on over to sit with the kid.”

“They won’t,” Ruth says, after a moment’s pause. “Unless it’s different than it was when Wilbur was in it. They’re islands, Naomi, always have been.”

“If a volcano blows up an island,” Naomi says, her voice edged with something Chris doesn’t understand, eyes suddenly hard and flinty, “You can’t tell me the other islands wouldn’t send some fuckin’ boats to find survivors.”

“Volcanoes are part of nature,” Ruth says, almost primly. “This isn’t natural at all.”

Ruth and Naomi share a long look, and then the woman and her baby disappear back into the kitchen.

“Ben’ll be over in about an hour, he’s calling in sick and setting someone else to take his meetings for the day,” Jefferson offers, breaking the moment of strange, weighted silence. “And I don’t work at the bar ‘til 6:30, so I got time. Ben says he’ll call a couple of people, too.”

Chris stares around at them, and feels tears stinging his eyes. He taps the inside of his wrist with his other hand, rhythmic, soothing the ache inside him, but it’s not quite the same kind of ache it was before. 

“Jaden’s bringin’ three or four of his little friends,” Ruth says firmly. “Which make us quite the crowd, and we can get this all cleaned up in no time, can’t we? And we got pizza for lunch. Jefferson, I don’t spend my good clean money on liquor, but you can, if you want.”

Jefferson laughs again. “Understood, Miss Ruth. Okay, little one let’s fix your foot-… hey, what’s your name?” He tilted his head, watching Chris with kind, dark eyes. 

Chris looks over at Ruth, who nods and squeezes his hands lightly, then lets go. The touch felt so good he nearly moves closer, back into it. He likes being touched, he’s supposed to like being touched, any way at all. “M-my, my name is, my name is, is is is Chris, my name is-… I picked the name, the, the name Chris, I picked it myself.”

His voice is low, worried they’ll laugh, but Jefferson grins at him, and it tugs a smile from Chris in return. “That’s a good choice, Chris. Now, look, we got half a couch cushion and I think that’s enough for your skinny butt. So take a seat, and I’ll get you cleaned up in no time.” He takes Chris’s arm now, helping him hobble his way into the living room, to sit slowly down on the undamaged part of the couch, holding his heel out for the man to take in warm fingers, pressing here and there, apologizing in a low voice when Chris hisses at the sharp stab of pain.

He taps hard on the couch, closing his eyes so he won’t see what happens, feeling a little faint at the thought of the clear glass shard coming out of his foot. Finger-twist-tap, finger-twist-tap, finger-twist-tap-

“What are you doin’ there, Chris?” Jefferson asks, and Chris stops.

“Nothing,” He whispers, keeping his voice slow, and careful. “Nothing, sir-”

“No fuckin’ sirs with me, I did that way too long in the fuckin’ army. Just call me Jefferson, thanks. All right, Chris, do whatever you gotta do, I’m gonna fix this as soon as I count to one, two, three-”

But he’s already squeezing hard on the count of two and Chris whines in pain as a sharp ache shoots up his leg from his heel, spikes, and then… lessens, lowers to a dim throb, hardly real pain at all. 

“Done,” Jefferson announces, brightly. “Now, let’s get you some shoes, so you don’t worry about stepping in anything again. You can come stay with me ‘til your people get back-”

Chris opens his eyes. “No.”

“No?” Jefferson’s eyebrows raise, and Ruth pauses where she’s working with a broom to sweep some crumpled papers in the entryway, looking over at the way Chris’s voice has suddenly gone stronger, harder.

“I can’t, can’t leave,” Chris says, looking Jefferson right in the eyes. Baldur, love, you know you should never meet a man’s eyes unless you’re going to-

“Why not?” Jefferson asks, confused, cutting off Chris’s nervous, cycling thoughts. 

“Because, be, because, because because he said to wait for him,” Chris says, a little louder this time, pulling his foot back and away from Jefferson’s hands, curling up on the couch cushion into the tiniest ball he can make himself. “Jake said, he said, he said to wait, and I have to, to wait for him. Right here. Until he, he comes back.”

“Chris…” Jefferson hesitates. “It could be a while-”

“Hush,” Ruth says, quick and fast the way the woman he doesn’t remember used to sometimes say things like that to a man he doesn’t remember, either. “Hush now. Not the time or the place, Jefferson. Not yet.”

“Yes, Miss Ruth. So you need to wait right here?”

“I have to wait for Jake,” Chris says, pressing his own hands against his stomach through the soft fabric of Jake’s worn-out old T-shirt, long fingers that curl into the cotton. “I have to wait for him. I, I, I said I’d wait, I said I’d wait, he promised he’d come back, and I-I-I, I have to, I have to…”

I have to do it the right way this time. Last time I did it all wrong and they died. If I can do it right this time, no one has to die. He doesn’t know where the thought comes from and it sinks back and away just as quickly. He flinches at the memory of a woman’s terrified face, his own voice screaming, and the realization that people can die with their eyes wide open.

“I have to wait,” Chris whimpers, and presses his palms up to his eyes to hide the tears that start to start to fall. There’s a pause, and then warm arms around him, holding him, but the arms aren’t right and the smell isn’t right and he’s alone, even with people in the house, he’s alone, he’s only not alone when he’s with Jake, and Jake is gone, and people have died when Chris did it wrong, he has to do it all just right this time-

Don’t move, baby. Just stay here, and it’ll be all right.

No! He’s just a child! Please, please, that’s my little boy, please no, please, God, no!

I’m coming back for you. Wait for me here.

“I have to w-wait, I have to, to wait, I have to wait for him, I have to wait…” The words bubble up unbidden, and the man holding onto him rocks back and forth, back and forth, and Chris rocks with him, crying into his shoulder, the man’s shirt damp with his tears. The women are silent, but for the sounds of their work, water pouring into a mop bucket and a broom sweeping across the floor. 

You are not hidden, there’s never been a moment you were forgotten - you are not hopeless, though you have been broken, your innocence stolen

Jake likes to sing to him, now, in his low bass voice, and he might never sing to Chris again, like the woman won’t, and how many times can he lose everyone before there’s no one left to lose?

The only sound now is Chris crying into the shoulder of a stranger, all the fear he cannot keep inside himself any longer wept out against his will, that somehow it’s happening all over again, and once more he’s the only one left in the house, once more there is blood on the wall, but he can’t remember when blood was there before and he doesn’t know why he’s so scared that Jake will die.

Just like the woman did, the one he doesn’t remember, the warm hand on his forehead when he was sick, the man the low voice murmuring, if you had a bad dream, you can crawl in with us, buddy, when he was young.

I will never stop marching to reach you in the middle of the hardest fight, it’s true

“I promised to, to wait,” Chris sobs into the man’s shirt, his skin, and feels the man’s warm hands rubbing soothingly at his back. “I promised to wait for him. He’s, he’s, he’s coming b-back, he said he’ll come back, he said to wait and I have to, to wait-”

I will rescue you

“He’s coming back,” Chris whimpers. “He’s, he’s, he’s coming back, he promised to come back-”

“I know,” Jefferson murmurs. “I know he did.”

I will rescue you

“I’m so, I’m, I’m so, so so so so scared, I’m scared, please, I’m so scared he won’t come back, please, please, I don’t want to lose anyone anymore, please, please get him back-”

I hear the whisper underneath your breath, I hear you whisper you have nothing left

“It’ll be okay, Chris,” Jefferson says softly, into his ear. “We’ll figure it out, and you can stay right here. We’ll figure this out with you, okay? We’ll… we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

“He, he, he he he promised, he promised, he-”

“I know. I know he did.” Jefferson swallows - Chris can hear it, feel the movement of his throat. “I know he did, kiddo.” There’s a pause, and then in a slightly different voice, Jefferson asks, “Miss Ruth, what’s our next step?”

The old woman is silent, and then says softly, “We clean the house, and we get this boy a bed to sleep in, right here where he wants to be. And then I guess one of us should figure out how to pay bail.”

The phone in the kitchen rings again, and Chris can hear, through his own low sobbing, Naomi’s voice as she picks up. There’s a low conversation, and the click of the phone resting back in its cradle. 

“We might not have to do this ourselves,” Naomi says, sounding odd, like her voice is caught in her throat.

“Why not?” Jefferson’s arms tighten around Chris, and he clings to him desperately, the warmth of human contact, the reassurance that he will not be left alone again. 

“Because…” Naomi’s voice twists with a wry humor. “Jake didn’t call his lawyer or his mom, Miss Ruth.”

“Then who did he call?”

“Uh.” Naomi clears her throat. Chris looks up, to see her looking stricken, staring at Chris as though he’s grown three heads. “He, uh. He called someone who called-… you guys ever see the movie Dimmer Switch?”

“Yeah, like… a million years ago,” Jefferson says, sounding baffled.

“I don’t see movies,” Ruth says, equally confused, though hers sounds more like irritation.

Chris’s heart twists, in his chest. Something like relief, but sharp as a blade, cutting him open, laying out all his hope for them to see and take and destroy, if they want to, like all of him was cut out once before.

It’s not gone, Antoni says, inside his mind, in his memory. They buried it, they built a wall, but we are still inside ourselves. You just have to dig deep enough, Chris.

This isn’t going to be like before.

“That was, uh. That was… some girl named Krista. She’s coming here. And she’s coming with a check from Vincent fucking Shield to pay their bail. We’ll have to go do it, because Krista says she’s… she’s one of them - the Boxies - she can’t go herself, they might recognize her.”

“Then I’ll go to the jail and get them myself,” Jefferson says, strongly. “I thought Vincent Shield just talked a big game in interviews, but that’s walking the walk, huh?”

“Oh, man.” Naomi sounds stunned. 

There’s a silence.

“Does that mean Vincent Shield has been here? And I was right next door to a fucking movie star and no one told me?”

Chris laughs, putting his hands back up over his face, burying himself in Jefferson’s shoulder. Krista will come to help him, Krista will come, and they’ll go get Jake, and Jake will come back, and it won’t be like before, mourning doves are just pigeons with a prettier name, they don’t mean anyone will die, no one has to die this time, you’re the reason Ronnie died, you should never have been born, but he doesn’t know that voice, either, who said that?

Someone, darker in his mind, a place he can’t go. A place that hurts but Chris tries to dig down into it anyway, follows the voice, chases it into the pain.

Thank you, it’s, it’s hard, but, but but but thank you for getting this for, for dinner, it-it helps, thank you-

Don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do on a day like this, huh? 

A day like, like, like like like what?

 Nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow. Happy birthday, Tris-

His thoughts are interrupted by a flash of red in the window, the cardinal from before. It sits on the windowsill, briefly, looking in at him with one dark eye. Then it takes flight again, a burst of wings, and is gone.

He doesn’t remember what he was thinking about but it doesn’t matter now. He did it all just right, so no one has to die this time. No one has to die because of him, and Jake is coming back, and it’s going to be okay. Jake promised he would come back, and Chris promised he would wait right here.

They can both keep their promises this time, because Chris did it all just right.

He did it just right.

He was good, this time, and that means no one will die.

He can keep his promise, the last one he made to the woman he doesn’t remember when she was lying on the floor with her eyes wide open, to be good.