#unlike before. when my entire body was shutting down from dehydration and once again I was just called lazy

[kitty-deer]

sadness forever when I think about how much my education got fucked over

[tsukishimas-shortcake]

Zapped

↦ Character(s): Kaminari Denki X reader

↦ Warnings: zapped out denki and caring reader? No proof reading?

↦ Word Count: (including the head canon part) 1.3k ish

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: This is an entree following this appetizer where I talk about some head canons I have on zapped out Denki, feel free to read it, though they are stand alone writings.

Does zapped out denki look kinda funny? yes

does that mean people should a l w a y s make fun of it? no.

Denki can get kinda insecure about it, especially when he’s around people he doesn’t know that well

obv he is comfortable enough with some people to become zapped out just to make others laugh

sometimes after missions he’ll be zapped out all night because teachers, mentors, etc. make him continue other activities instead of resting like he should

def gets the worst headaches after

rub his head pretty please

also you know how electricity and water don’t go well together? I think while yes his body can function fine normally even though water and electricity don’t mix well, but I think when he uses super high voltages, like when he gets zapped out, he gets super dehydrated and ends up drinking like 2 gallons of water

Like he doesn’t repel water its just his body doesn’t absorb as much as he should so he has to drink a lot more than normal people

Denki def likes being babied, I will take no criticism, I will never prefer Dom!denki compared to sub!denki, even in a non-sexual way, he is a baby and I will treat him as such

Baby him and he’ll get all blushy and cute, no one ever babies him because 1. girls just think he's a perv and can't respect women (which yes I will admit he is a perv but he def is a simp who respects women unlike rat boy who is an incel) 2. why would his friends that are guys baby him

Sometimes kiri will because taking care of your friends is manly or some shit like that but not all the time 

Even though the bakusquad takes care of the simple things that Denki needs while zapped out when you take care of him he feels like he's getting better 3x faster

Mainly because he feels he can relax the most when you’re taking care of him, when its the bakusquad he feels kinda stressed cause he doesn’t wanna do something dumb that will be a running joke for the whole school year or something

Once got caught on Sero’s tape and go wrapped up in it like a mummy, but he used so much of it that it took like 2 hours to get him fully unwrapped. Had a small bald spot in an unnoticeable spot on the back of his head because the tape w o u l d not come off

When you’re with him just hold him. Baby him. Set his head in your lap and just rub his head while he gets better. 

Another boring day had passed during your internship, thank god it was boring. No hero wants an interesting day seeing as to how that would mean a disaster had occurred or some evil bastard had committed a crime. Today it was all making sure kids weren’t running into the street or stopping creepy men from hitting on school girls, the most mundane common occurrences in your region of work.

You got to the dorms a little after some of the other students, you couldn’t tell who but you saw the living room in disarray and decided the first thing would be a shower and checking who was back was second. 

As you were showering, there was a loud bang on the door causing you to jump, what were these people trying to pull? you had jumped straight into fighting stance since you’re always ready for some crazy bitch to pull some psycho scene while you shower. 

“Y/N! Are you in there?” You heard one of the other students say, not sure who it was exactly because of the door between the two of you but knowing it was one of the girls because of the octave they spoke in. “Yeah, what’s up?” you said as you shut off the water, grabbing your towel and beginning to dry off, figuring that maybe you are in there too long. 

“Well... you see... Kaminari is kinda zapped out again and he won’t sit down for some reason. He just keeps walking around and we can’t get him to talk either. We think maybe he’s looking for you.” They said. “Okay, I’ll be right out. Just let me dry off and stuff” you replied, they said thank you quickly and almost more of a ‘thank you god’ than a ‘thank you Y/N’.

You came out of the shower and dried off your hair as much as you could with the towel, before heading down to the living room were the bakusquad had almost created what seemed like a circle around him to keep him from getting around. 

He made a sound similar to babbling when you finally came into sight and he just  had a pout on his lips as you got closer. The bakusquad all let out sighs of relief as you finally got to them and reached your hand out to Denki. Once he took your hand you put another hand on his shoulder and began to lead him to his room, hoping to help him get changed out of his internship clothes and clean the dirt off his face. Once you got to his door you took his spare key from your pocket and unlocked the door, helping him in since the last time you let go of his hand for him to walk in himself he walked straight into his dresser. 

Once you got him inside you helped him strip down, picking out some clean clothes for him. After he got dressed you took a damp rag and had him lay on the bed. Sitting down with his head in your lap. He just smiled up at you, almost like he was dumbstruck by love, his eyes big and he just laughed as you pushed the hair away from his forehead. Wiping it with the wet rag he sighed in comfort before you continued, attempting to be gentle instead of turning it into some type of facial exfoliation. 

“Are you okay baby?” You asked as you set the rag to the side and just ran your hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He hummed in reply, the best he could manage at the time but it was a good hum. “Good.” You said softly “You feel like drinking some water?” you asked again, this time him making a hum that was not such a good hum but not one of the completely horrible grunts. You sighed, time to pull some ‘gotta get my sick child to take medicine’ type stuff. “Well, would you mind sitting up and taking a few sips...” his eyes almost looked too sad to deny, knowing he really didn’t want to “please... for me?” you asked and he sighed before humming in the tone that means ‘oh okay, for you’. 

He leaned up with your help and you rubbed his back as you grabbed the water for him. He ended up drinking the entire glass and once you set it down he was leaning against your shoulder, tiredly, hardly able to hold himself up anymore as the tiredness and soreness finally hit him. 

“Good job baby” You said and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer as he wrapped both arms around you. “Let’s lay down now okay?” you said softly and he nodded against your shoulder. Once you laid down he smiled tiredly at you and then his blinks began to get more spaced out. 

“I love you. I’ll be right here if you need me okay?” You said softly, knowing his head must be hurting by now. 

“...love...you too...” He finally managed to speak before you kissed his forehead. Falling asleep before you pulled your lips away.

[whumpmatsus]

Why hello there new blog. 👀 I shall watch with interest. Would it be fine to ask for Karamatsu with a bad stomachache/similar?

hehe, I hope you enjoy watching!

and YES of course! God I'm such a Karamatsu girl 😩

We've got some of everything here, I think? Oops All Matsus! XD ... but the Choukeimatsu is definitely strong in this one haha

enjoooooy! <3

-

It’s kind of a given that in a house with six brothers in close quarters, anything one of them catches is going to end up running its way through all of them.

It’s… less of a given that Karamatsu is going to be the one who recovers last.

Most of the time he’s the first one to push through it, seemingly via sheer power of will because he wants to take care of the others. Or, at least, he’s not usually the one still down for the count when everyone else is on the mend.

This time around, he’s been curled up on the couch since all of them woke up this morning. They’re all feeling fine, while he’s apparently still feeling like crap.

He’s set himself up with a wastebasket nearby and he’s refused everything his brothers have tried to shove down his throat ― water, food, even medicine is turned away. They all might think he’s just being stubborn if not for the fact that he’s so clearly still sick. Regardless, they’ve stopped trying to offer since they know he isn’t going to take any of it.

As far as Karamatsu himself is concerned, if whatever sickness he’s got is going to kill him, he wishes it would hurry up and do so already. He doesn’t know how much more he can take. There’s an uncomfortable, cramping heat in his belly that’s constantly threatening to flip into something much worse. He’s been vomiting for a couple days now, on and off, like the rest of his brothers. Unlike them, however, it hasn’t gotten much better for him.

He tries so hard to be cool and unbothered. This is starting to worry him, though. How come everyone else is back to normal while he continues to struggle not to puke at the mere thought of plain rice?

For as much as Totty claims to hate germs, the youngest has been camping out next to the couch most of the morning, playing on his phone. It affords Karamatsu a view of the games Totty’s playing and the videos he’s watching; distractions as he tries to keep himself from tossing what little there is left to toss in his stomach. He isn’t sure whether or not Totty planned it that way, just that he’s grateful for something else to focus on other than the unbearable nausea.

“Heyyyy, Karamatsu-nii-san,” he suddenly speaks up, holding the phone closer to his miserable older brother’s line of sight. “What do you think of this pretty girl? Is her dress the right color for winter? It’s cute, but, I don’t know… I think maybe she would have looked better in blue…”

Now, Karamatsu isn’t sure what it is about the video clip Totty is showing him. It might be the bright lights in the background, or it might be the twirling motions the woman on the screen is making. Or, quite frankly, it might be nothing at all, since he feels so horrible.

But only a few seconds after he squints at the video clip, his stomach rebels against something. Although he wants to reply to his dearest younger brother, the second he parts his lips to give a clever retort, he feels his stomach clench. Saliva pools in his mouth, and he quickly raises a hand up to his face.

He swallows once. Twice. Three times. He tries to take a breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth like Choromatsu taught him. Nothing helps, because he ends up gagging anyway.

Immediately Totty yelps and launches himself away from the sofa. All the noise, particularly Karamatsu’s heaving, catches the attention of the rest of the sextuplets. Soon enough, someone has hurried over to hold the wastebasket beneath him, and someone else is using what feels like all their strength to help prop him over it so he doesn’t miss.

A brief glance up reveals that the one holding him is Jyushimatsu ― of course, he’s the most coordinated of them all ― and Choromatsu is playing trashcan jockey. Karamatsu’s head swims again, and that small motion is all that’s needed for his stomach to protest again. He retches a few times before whatever is left, which can’t be much at this point, splatters into the can.

“Totty!” he can hear Choromatsu scolding the youngest. “W-what the hell was that for?!”

“What was what for?!” Totty retorts. “I was trying to cheer him up! It’s not my fault!”

Ichimatsu snickers from his spot in the corner. “Che, so you made Shittymastu sick by trying to help. Sounds about right for you.”

“Excuse me?! You take that back or I’ll post that video of you being a drunk asshole online so everyone can laugh at my big, dumb brother!”

“HEY!” It’s Osomatsu who quiets the entire room with one sharp word. He’s knelt next to the couch, one hand trying to keep Karamatsu’s hair out of his face. “Would you guys all shut the fuck up? For God’s sakes, let the poor bastard puke in peace! The last thing he needs is to hear you douches arguing while he’s giving the trashcan a new coat of paint!”

For his part, Karamatsu appreciates his older brother standing up for him when he’s unable to do so himself. It’s just a little hard to convey that when his body is trying to bring up everything he’s eaten ever in his life.

It hurts, too. The sensation in his stomach is tight now, painful like there’s a knife stuck in his middle. Every gag makes a stabbing, all-over pain spiderweb through his whole body. As if he’s made of porcelain and something is repeatedly making cracks.

Finally he thinks it should be over, because nothing else is coming up. He shudders and heaves and it doesn’t produce anything other than an uncomfortable ache in his throat. Honesty, his entire body is aching now.

He lets out a few ragged breaths before slumping back onto the sofa, predictably pulled into a more-careful-than-usual Jyushimatsu hug. “It’s okay, Karamatsu-nii-san! I’ve got you!!”

“Aaah.” Karamatsu lifts his hand and places it, shaking, on his little brother’s head to praise him for a job well done. “Jyushimatsu… I’ll leave it to you… to tell my Karamatsu girls… I loved them…”

He hears Ichimatsu scoff. “You should be more worried that you were puking without puking than your nonexistent fangirls, you dumbass.”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Osomatsu agrees. “You heard that too, Ichimatsu?”

“Mhm. It almost made me want to hurl again.”

“Yeah… he should be better by now. I mean, we’re all fine. And he hasn’t been eating, so it’s not like there’s anything left in there. What’s his stupid body trying to throw up? His Goddamn kidneys?”

Karamatsu hears Choromatsu groan. “Oh, my God, you guys are disgusting!” When Karamatsu looks up, the third eldest is hovering over him with a concerned expression. “Ah… they… might be right, though. Karamatsu-nii-san… you’re just as sick as we all were at the beginning of this. It doesn’t seem like you’ve improved like we have. How… do you feel now? Any better since you threw up?”

He tries to laugh. It comes out sounding more like a sob, though. “N… no…” It feels like even too deep a breath will tip the scale on his nausea and cause another avalanche. “I’m… I’m dizzy… it still hurts.”

“A-ah, gosh…” Choromatsu’s hand sets lightly against Karamatsu’s cheek, then neck, and if his face is any indicator, he doesn’t like what he feels. “You’ve… still got a fever. And you’re sweating and lightheaded and… still throwing up. Shit.”

He moves his hand to gently card through his big brother’s hair as if trying to reassure him. “Karamatsu-nii-san… d-do you think you could make it to the doctor? If we helped you?”

That’s not an idea he enjoys entertaining. Having to get up off the couch, bundle up in a coat, ride the train… it sounds so exhausting. He’s already tired. But… if Choromatsu is even bringing it up, he must think it’s a better idea than Karamatsu continuing to try and recover on the couch.

He manages a nod. “Sure… sure, if you help me.”

“Great.” Choromatsu straightens up and heads for the door. “I’ll go call the office and see if they can get you an appointment today. If they can, I’ll go with you, and…” He surveys the rest of the room. “… I’d prefer at least onemore person go with us, just in case.”

“Yeah, I’ll go, no problem.” The eldest’s voice is one Karamatsu didn’t expect to hear, though maybe he should have. Osomatsu is still lingering on the floor next to him, taking the spot where Totty was, and, now that Karamatsu thinks about it, he can feel his older brother gently rubbing his shoulder. “… Do you think maybe we should try to force him to drink something, too? You can’t survive without water, right?”

Choromatsu sighs; not necessarily because it’s one more thing to add to the list, but it sounds like he’s just worried. He probably doesn’t want to force one of his brothers to do anything ― especially one of his big brothers, and especially when said big brother is already so sick. “I mean… yeah, it’s not good that he hasn’t had anything to drink today, and not much in the last few days. Throwing up so much is probably making him dehydrated… which, stupidly enough, can make him throw up more.”

Osomatsu hums in thought and gives Karamatsu’s shoulder a small squeeze to get his attention. “Hey, Karamatsu. Do you think you could handle some tea?”

“Really weak tea,” Choromatsu hurries to clarify. “You’re not supposed to drink anything too intense after throwing up.”

Karamatsu shuts his eyes in a desperate bid to avoid the worried, pleading faces of his brothers looking back at him. Just thinking about anything going into his body and sliding down his throat right now makes his stomach swirl viciously.

He feels Jyushimatsu hug him a little tighter, which doesn’t help matters. “Aww, please, Karamatsu-nii-san! You can drink some tea for your little brother, right? Riiiiight?”

A groan is what he gets in response, though the giggling suggests he isn’t too broken up about it.

His hair is brushed back, and stroked through a few times. “Well,” Osomatsu says softly, “how about for your big brother, then?”

After a moment of thought, Karamatsu lets out a whimper, leaning his head closer that way in an obvious attempt for more affection. “I… suppose I do only have one older brother, after all…”

He hears Choromatsu chuckle by the door. “Good, good. I’ll make some, then. We’ll try not to make you drink too much… and… I’ll call the doctor while I boil water for it. Hopefully they can fit you in. In the meantime, just, um… try to rest, alright?”

At the very least, he doesn’t have to tell Karamatsu twice. The second eldest relaxes, keeping his eyes shut. He hears Osomatsu quietly urge Jyushimatsu to switch positions, and he scoots himself up onto the couch. Somehow he manages to pull Karamatsu into his lap, letting his younger brother curl up against his stomach.

“Hey, there. It’s okay. Big brother’s gotcha, Kara.” A careful touch runs up and down Karamatsu’s back, bringing the slightest sense of relief. “Get some sleep.”

Then Osomatsu pauses, and with a laugh he adds, “Just… warn me if you’re gonna puke again, okay?”

[the-sympathetic-villain]

The Stowaway’s Heart - Chapter 1

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: Virgil is rescued by selkies after being abandoned at sea and brought back to their pod to recover. Virgil's poor, gay heart may just explode from how attractive they all are.

Pairings: Analogical, Platonic Logince (There may be more as I go along!)

Word Count: 1813

Chapter Warnings: Dehydration, Imprisonment, Mentions of human trafficking, Mild Suicidal Ideation

Author’s Note: This is something I’ve been writing when I need to take a break on You Belong With Me.  This will eventually probably end up being a lot of extremely gay fluff with a little hurt/comfort to start.

    Three days.

    Three days since they’d thrown Virgil in the brig.

    Three days since he'd heard the voice of another person.

    Three days since he’d last drank water.

    Three days.

    He couldn't even open his eyes as he lay motionless on the stiff cot in his cell. If it weren’t for the chill of the night air, he wouldn’t even have known how long they’d left him here. Not that it mattered. No one was coming for him. He was going to die of thirst, locked in the brig of this godforsaken ship drifting through the ocean. They could have at least had the decency to kill him outright, instead of forcing him to wait as he slowly wasted away.

    The haze in his brain seemed to break for just a moment as the sound of footsteps echoed above him. He held his breath, straining to hear as the gentle tap of steps moved across the deck. He waited for the footsteps to disappear. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. His mind had to be playing tricks on him.

    But the sounds continued. For several minutes, he could hear the deliberate movement of footsteps clicking above him. The sound wasn't just objects rolling about the deck. There were actual people on the ship somewhere above him.

    Maybe someone came back to finish the job they started.

    Virgil exhaled bitterly.

      No. It can’t be.

    He moaned, confused. They wouldn’t have come back for him. He was worthless to them at this point. In his condition, he wasn’t even worth keeping as a captive for trade. Nursing him back to health would cost them more than the price he'd fetch at the market. Distraught, a groan escaped him as he willed whatever strength he had left into trying to push himself off the ground, only barely managing to roll onto his side. Virgil nearly bit his tongue, forcing back a wave of nausea as he fought the urge to gag.

    Moving is bad. Got it.

    He groaned, remaining still as he listened to the soft tapping above him. He forced his eyes open to stare at the hatch in the ceiling in the space outside of his cell. Time passed slowly as he waited, yet the hatch to the brig remained closed. Virgil couldn't help it. His eyes started to droop with exhaustion as his focus faltered. His vision blurred as he nearly answered sleep's enticing call.

    It doesn't matter anyway.

    Virgil groaned. Even if they were coming back for him, he stood no chance of fending them off. Whoever was coming would find him, regardless of whether he was awake. He couldn't stop whatever they were going to do to him. He was at their mercy. His head drooped.

    Maybe it would be better to be unconscious.

    The sound of metal moving against metal above him tore him from his thoughts. He listened, waiting, until a metal clink from above confirmed to him that they had found the hatch. Even as his heart raced in his chest, he couldn’t even find the strength to tense his muscles in anticipation of whoever was coming his way.

    Bright light assaulted his eyes as the hatch opened. He groaned loudly as he clenched his eyes shut and cringed as the footsteps at the hatch came to an abrupt halt.

    Great job, Virgil. Now they know you’re here.

    He listened as the footsteps started to descend the steps once more. Slowly, this time. Virgil ached to open his eyes and see who was approaching him. He wanted to see their face. At least then, he could brace himself for whatever they had planned for him, but he couldn’t. So, he waited, lying prone on the bed, vulnerable to whoever approached.

    The footsteps paused at the cell doors. Virgil grunted. He forced his eyes open, ignoring the pain. He was only able to make out a tall, dark silhouette standing at the cell door, hands on the bars before the pain became unbearable and his eyes closed once more.

    “You’re alive!”

    The deep voice was loud and jarring and Virgil couldn't help flinching at the sudden sound.

    “I am sorry. I did not intend to startle you, small one.” The voice dropped to a whisper. “Give me a moment. I will get you out of here.”

    Virgil relaxed. The voice was mesmerizingly smooth and deliciously deep. Virgil couldn’t help wishing the man would speak more. At least if he was going to die, he could listen to something pleasant as he drifted away.

    The source of the voice, however, seemed to have other ideas. As fast as the pretty voice had come, it was gone once more, and Virgil had nearly drifted off to sleep again by the time the voice returned. The man was further away this time,. He was somewhere close to the top of the stairs and he wasn’t alone anymore. Another booming voice echoed down through the hatch above. Virgil cringed. The second man’s voice was deeper and he sounded angry.

    “—he’s injured!” The pretty voice spoke again.

    “He’s dangerous!”

    “He’s barely conscious. Look at him. He's hardly a threat to anyone in his current state.” The pretty voice was flat now, starting to sound annoyed.

    “Look at the state of this ship.” The angry voice paused. “What if he’s responsible for this?”

    “You think he did this and then just locked himself up in a cell to die?” The pretty voice sounded bitter now. “I find that highly unlikely.”

    Silence hung between them for a moment before the other voice spoke again. “He’s still dangerous, Logan. They all are.”

    “Undoubtedly, they would say the same about us.” The man, Logan, said bitterly.

    “I hate it when you’re like this.”

    “Compassionate?”

    “Stubborn.”

    “Forgive me if lowering my standards of who is worthy of basic compassion is a topic on which I refuse to compromise, Roman.”

    “I’m not asking you to lower your standards.” Roman muttered bitterly. “I’m asking you to consider the consequences.”

    “I have considered the consequences.” Logan sighed. “I’m not willing to leave him to die over complications that may never arise.”

    “I shouldn’t have let you come with me.”

    “That is of little consequence at this point. I’m here now.”

    Roman sighed, considering the situation. “Fine, but he’s your responsibility and yours alone. No one else will be allowed near him.”

    “I would expect nothing less.” Virgil could have laughed at the barely concealed smirk in Logan’s tone. He could guess that this man with a pretty voice was used to getting his way.

    “He will remain confined the entire time. He's not going to be moving about the island unchecked.”

    “Roman—”

    “This is not a negotiation.” Roman stated. “These are my rules if you choose to do this. Otherwise, I’m not allowing it.”

    Virgil heard a dissatisfied grunt before Logan spoke again. “Fine, I will concede to your terms.”

    “Good, because I have one more.” Roman hesitated. “You will leave your pelt with me while you care for him.”

    “That’s not fair—” Virgil could almost feel Logan bristle at Roman’s suggestion.

    “I don’t care if it's fair or not. I’m not taking the risk of a human controlling you. That would endanger everyone at home.” Roman interrupted, quiet for a moment before he spoke again. This time his voice was soft and pleading. “Not to mention, I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you again, Lo. He'd never forgive me.”

    Human?

    “Very well, Roman.” Logan’s voice was tired, but he seemed resigned. “That will make the process uncomfortable, but if it will put your mind at ease, I will do whatever you require of me.”

    “Thanks, Lo.” Roman’s voice was softer. His angry tone had faded. Virgil’s heart warmed pleasantly at the sweet tone that drifted through the brig. “Now, go do whatever you need to do. We're leaving soon.”

    “Thank you.” Hurried steps dropped down from the stairs above. A loud thud resonated in the floor below Virgil as the man jumped past few steps to land on the ground. A moment later, he could hear the jangling of metal as someone fiddled with his cell door. Virgil’s head started to spin and he resisted another wave of nausea. His vision darkened as his consciousness faded for a brief moment.

    He woke to the feeling of hands on his neck. Panic coursed through his body as he weakly tried to struggle away from his attacker, but he barely moved, too exhausted and weak to truly fight back.

    “Do not move, human. I have no intent to harm you. I only wished to confirm you were still alive.”

    Virgil settled as the hands moved off his throat, too weak to do much else.

    “Good. You are going to be okay. My name is Logan and I am here to help you.”

    Virgil’s skin tingled at the pleasant melody of the stranger’s voice.

     “You appear to be severely dehydrated.” Logan spoke softly. A blissful sigh nearly escaped Virgil as the stranger’s soft hands pushed his hair away from his face. “I am going to give you some water, but I will need to prop you up to prevent you from choking. Will you allow me to lift you?”

    Virgil groaned and Logan seemed to accept that as consent. Warm hands gently curled him upright, cradling him around his shoulder. He felt a cup at his lips and he opened his mouth, sipping eagerly at the sweet, cool water. Instant relief washed over him as the aching dryness in his throat eased. He nearly moaned with satisfaction, but his relief was cut short as the cup was pulled back away from him too soon. He grumbled unhappily.

    A heavenly laugh sounded near his ear. “I'm sorry, dear one. Too much at once will make you sick. You will have more soon. I promise.”

     Virgil melted into the man's arms, relaxing at the soft tone of his voice. He wavered at the edge of consciousness, nearly giving into sleep at the comfort of the man's touch.

     “You are going to be okay, human. I give you my word.” Logan whispered. A sad tone crept into the beautiful sound of his voice. Virgil felt a hand on the neck, and he leaned into its warmth. “But I don’t think you need to see what is waiting for us up on the deck. Please forgive me, dear one.”

    Vague confusion swelled in Virgil’s mind for only a moment before he felt a small prick in his neck. He winced but the pain quickly faded.

    “Don't—" Virgil rasped the first word he'd spoken in days. He tried to pull away but his resistance was short lived as his racing mind succumbed to oblivion.

     “Sleep now, human.” Logan whispered sadly. “You’re safe now. You'll be in a better place when you wake.”

[gundhams-pandemonium]

Finding, And Being Human

Chapter One

Nondespair but apolocalypse AU, trust me on this

Can send link on Ao3, just ask in PM, if you perfer to read it on there

His mind swam, an endless sea of desire. His mouth was dry, he wished to sit down at his table, making himself a cup of tea. Hell, he could even go for a plebeian glass of tap water at the moment. He never thought he’d envy the life of the lower class, much less spend moments day dreaming of the experience. Yet here, where his feet ached, his tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his head could barely tell itself to place one foot in front of the other… he’d take anything.

He smiled but it held no joy; The Great Byakuya Togami decided he was delirious. But who wouldn’t be? The apocalypse came and save for a few rotting corpses he was the only living human.

“...Sir Togami? I think you should sit down, you look unwell…” His companion, hesitating to touch his back. Perhaps since when they’d first physically touched him, he threatened to have them thrown in a trash compactor and sold for scrap. 

Now, though, he didn’t even have the energy to protest the contact. 

“If we waver in our travel, we die,” Not enough to keep him from protesting everything. His voice was once strong and powerful, now he could barely speak above a whisper.

“Well, we still have sustenance! I will grab it from the bag,” They joyfully said. Like they should use ‘we’, they needed nothing from the bag. The bag was a first aid kit, that’d seen better days, and food that had been persevered from Togami’s home (well, the one he woke up in). They couldn’t use any of it, save maybe the first kit aid’s packaging that could be strapped to their chest as a second metal plating. 

“Nng- water,” They probably didn’t even understand, as they got a can of corn. 

If he could, he’d scold them for being an idiotic robot. But he found his entire body waver, before he knew it he was on the ground.

Kiibo was shaking him, saying words that didn’t even make it to his ears. For being nonhuman, the robot was extremely alike in look. They could move their mouth as if they we’re talking.

No words? Maybe he turned his voice off. That’d be… funny.

Much better than thinking it was because of his own exhaustion and dehydration.

Kiibo held the can in their hand, trying to put it to his lips. Did they seriously not understand? Food would do little and-

His head was being held, and now forced to press his lips against the aluminum. He would die like this. The last Togami, the last human being, succumbing to one of the oldest struggles people faced. A struggle that he believed someone as rich as him would never face.

Before he could hit the robot, for what he assumed to be the last time, he felt liquid run into his mouth. The sudden rich of euphoria almost caused him to chock. He drank greedily, struggling to keep it from dribbling down his chin. His delirium left him almost as soon as it came ( which, wasn’t truthful. As his state had been building up for days, but he would never admit that). Soon, the noise no longer sounded like mush and he could clearly hear the mechanical voice cooing reassurance.

It was so demeaning, even if he was on the brink of passing out. He didn’t need a sweet voice telling him that they had the situation under control. He could clearly take care of-

Oh

Moments of weakness were unlike a Togami. Each member of the exclusive family knew this. Yet, here he was having been saved for the second time by an advanced vending machine.

The liquid ceased quicker than he believed it would, a clump of food finding its way on his tongue. Not necessarily ungrateful for it, while he was in need of water it wasn’t like his stomach didn’t yearn for food. However, after a few globs of the vegetable, it suddenly stopped. 

“As you have said before, we must save our resources! However, please inform me next time that hydration is needed more often than food. I do not want a close call of you shutting of- err passing out again. I was…” They trailed off. Then shoving the lid back on the can, before bringing out their finger and sealing the lid with some kind of sealant contained in the tip. 

“The fact you have that function is… fortunate,” His mind and voice still had a lot of catching up to do, but he felt a burst of strength. 

“Yes! I am very lucky that Miu got bored and added so many features,” He stared at the tip… longingly? 

“Miu? I was under the impression your professor was male,” Togami should cease these useless conversations and move forward. Oh, but his legs felt so much better ceasing their motion for a moment. 

“Huh? Oh! Miu is not my professor. She was a prodigy who worked with The Professor . But more than that, she was my best friend. We were about the same age, and she never saw me as less. Honestly, she was as interested in me as I was her,” Suddenly their synthetic cheeks turned a light pink (was that to make him more human?) “Not in a weird way though! Just as friends! Haha,” his laugh was strained, or perhaps was just because his voice wasn’t real.

“...she would’ve made a very perverted joke about my word choice...haha…” Why did their professor give them a function in which they could look so sad? What would the purpose be? 

It made something odd twist in his heart. Must be a side effect of the dehydration.

“What we’re your friends like?” Any feeling he thought he had, or brushed off he had, left him in an instant. 

“What does it matter? The world is dead, there is no one left and no time for these pointless ramblings,” Togami was suddenly to his feet, already walking on the path to nowhere in particular.

“W-wait! Wait up Togami!” As Kiibo struggled to get himself off the ground, the heir only looked forward.

Foreword, into the bleak sky and endless tundra ahead of him.

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Opalescent Tides - Chapter 1

“Amethyst wakes up on the shore of Beach City, and she couldn’t be more confused.” 

Fandom - Steven Universe 

Pairing - Pearl/Amethyst 

Rating - T 

Human/Mermaid AU. 

Next Chapter 

* 

Waves crashed against the shore, and seagulls cawed from up above. Though her eyes were closed, the glaring sun bore straight through Amethyst's eyelids. She stirred, gritting her teeth as the sand ground against her blistering skin. Finally, she forced her eyes open, letting out an audible gasp as the sunlight hit her eyes. 

As soon as Amethyst's eyes adjusted to the sun's blinding rays, she finally managed to look ahead. She was the surrounded by beach, the dark and endless ocean... and just behind her was an even darker and more ominous patch of trees. Not a single grain of sand around her was familiar. Amethyst heaved herself to her feet and looked herself over -- her dark brown skin was covered in blisters... She must have been laying in the sun for quite a while, she observed. Amethyst hissed through her teeth as she pulled a layer of skin off of her sunburnt arm. 'Gross.'

To make matters worse, Amethyst was thirsty. The kind of thirsty that made her head throb and her throat feel like she'd swallowed a mouthful of sand -- though, to be fair, that wasn't entirely out of the question. Regardless, Amethyst crouched in front of the water and cupped her hands in it, taking a reluctant sip.

'Ugh, of course it's saltwater! Dumbass.' she thought with a groan, immediately spitting it back out. 'Guess I gotta find some fruit... Or even running water. There's probably people somewhere, right?' It was unlikely she'd waken up on a deserted island -- she had no memory of a shipwreck, or being on a ship in the first place, or... Anything at all, really. Now that she thought of it, she couldn't remember anything.

'Alright, don't panic. It's probably not amnesia, I'm just... really fucking sore and thirsty. Maybe I'll feel better once I get some water.' Taking a deep breath, Amethyst made her way through the patch of trees up ahead.

From the outside, the woods had seemed endless; but after only a few moments of walking did she hear a loud crack, followed by the sound of fizzing. Amethyst tensed for a moment and gazed upward, but her fear eased once she saw a beautiful red firework shimmering in the evening sky. 'And where there's fireworks, there's gotta be people!' she thought, her heart racing. She quickened her pace and headed towards the source of the noise, grinning even harder as another firework echoed in the woods.

Her feet soon met pavement, giving her a short moment of relief before the concrete burned the soles of her bare feet. So she quickened her pace until she reached a patch of cool grass.

Amethyst looked around at the quaint little town around her. The road was lined with various vendors; some were selling meats and vegetables deep fried beyond recognition, while others were advertising toys, games where one could pop balloons with darts, people selling fish in plastic bags... The latter of which made Amethyst shudder.

"Lemonade! Only twenty-five cents!" a tiny voice drew Amethyst's attention. She locked eyes with a small, curly-haired boy sitting behind a chipped wooden table. His cheeks were bright red from the sun, and he wore a pinkish-red tank top with a yellow star on it. On the table before him, there was a plastic pitcher filled with lemonade (the ice had already melted, but Amethyst sure didn't care), tiny paper cups, and a jar filled with quarters. "Get your freshly squeezed lemonaaaade!"

As Amethyst approached lemonade stand, she fumbled through her pockets in search of change, but they were filled with nothing but seaweed and grains of sand. Ugh, really? I don't have anything?' she thought. In all honesty, she was struggling to remember what twenty five cents even looked like. Trying to remember anything other than her name made her head ache... So she shook it off. Now wasn't the time for that; dehydration was getting to her, and if she didn't get something soon, she'd only descend even further into insanity.

"Hey, kiddo!" Amethyst greeted, shoving her hands into her pockets as she approached the boy.

"Hey, Miss!" the boy greeted. "Do you want some lemonade? I made it all by myself! Well, mostly -- my dad cut up the lemons because he doesn't trust me with knives, and he also helped me squeeze them because I wasn't strong enough... But it's delicious, I promise! And only twenty-five cents! My name's Steven, by the way!"

"Oh, that's awesome!" Amethyst licked her lips, her eyes locked on the pitcher. "Here's the thing, though... I don't really have any money. At least not right now, but uh -- I'm absolutely dying of thirst, so do you think I could -- "

"Say no more!" Steven said, thrusting a tiny paper of cup of lemonade Amethyst's way. "Don't worry 'bout the quarter. It's on me."

Amethyst smiled weakly. "Thanks, buddy. Next time I get my hands on a 'quarter', I'll be sure to pay ya back." She reached for the cup and downed it immediately -- it tasted purely of sugar, with maybe a hint of lemon, but to a woman on the brink of dehydration it might as well have been liquid gold.

"No problem! And really, it's no big deal if you don't pay me back!" Steven said. "Hey, you gotta place to stay? Not to be rude, but you look like you've been sleeping on the beach."

Amethyst blushed; with her soaking wet hair, sunburnt skin, and sand-covered tank top and shorts, it wasn't hard to guess, but she still felt self conscious nonetheless. Even after the cup of lemonade, she was still too dehydrated to think... She could barely even remember where her actual home was. But she wouldn't dare admit that; no, she'd find her way back home soon enough, and if not, she'd spend the night at a hotel until she was well again. "Mm... I'm just passing through." she said with a shrug.

"Ohh, I see!" Steven said, though he didn't look fully convinced. "Well, here's another glass of lemonade for the road! On me." he added with a wink. Amethyst smiled gratefully and ruffled his hair. "Thanks again, little dude." As she turned and headed off, she took another sip of the lemonade and continued on her way.

As she walked, she glanced around in search of something, anything that looked familiar. 'Do I... live in this town? Maybe I passed out drunk on the beach... But I've never heard of hangovers causing legit amnesia.' she thought, scanning all the little houses. None of them rang a bell.

She glanced back towards the direction of the beach, her stomach turning. 'If I'm not from here, then... Maybe I washed up in some kind of shipwreck? But from where? Ah, but there wasn't a boat anywhere, so maybe not... Or maybe someone mugged me and whacked me over the head...' she thought, tapping her head as if it'd shake a screw loose and jolt her memories back into place. Everything was so foggy... And the fact that it was getting dark wasn't helping. With each shade the sky grew darker, a feeling of unease grew within her gut... She could see some of the vendors starting to close up, which only sent her anxiety even further into the sky. The only thing scarier than being lost was being lost and alone, especially at night.

Amethyst seated herself on a nearby bench, drinking the last few drops of lemonade in her cup. She tossed it into the nearby trash can and rested her chin in her hands. She watched as a family of five walked by, the littlest of the three children holding onto the mother's hand. 'Do I have even a mother...?' she thought, gazing down at the pavement. 'Or a family? Anything? Ugh, what the fuck is even going on?'

She hated just sitting there; part of her knew that she needed to keep walking, looking for a hotel so she could rest her head, or even psychological help... But her body didn't want to move. She felt like she'd been hit by a train; maybe she was beaten and mugged after all. Nevertheless, for the time being, Amethyst leaned her head back against the bench and watched the seagulls as they swarmed above.

* 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

With her chin in her hands, Pearl gazed at the worn down cuckoo clock. It had been gathering dust in the corner of the store for months, now; an antique worth a few hundred dollars, and it drew quite a bit of attention for Beach City patrons, but none of them had the guts to actually purchase it... And after weeks of living with it, getting startled by that obnoxious bird every damned hour, Pearl was starting to understand why.

On cue, the clock struck nine and the bird popped out of its little hole. It cuckoo-ed loudly -- nine times to be precise -- before retreating back to the safety of its little wooden birdhouse.

"Thank goodness." Pearl let out a sigh of relief. After the longest 8 hour shift of her life, she was finally able to close up. Before any customers could come in for some last minute shopping, she sprinted over to the door and tugged it shut, turning both of the locks and flipping the open sign around.

Stairs creaked from above, and Pearl turned to smile as Garnet approached. "Hey there! I was just closing up." she greeted.

Once Garnet reached the bottom of the stairs, Pearl saw that she was holding two milkshakes; one strawberry, the other banana. "Here you go." she said, handing the pink one over to Pearl.

Pearl beamed with joy. "Oh my goodness, Garnet -- that's too kind of you! Thank you so much, ah..." she said, immediately taking a sip.

"It's the least I could do. I still feel terrible that you had to work alone on such a miserably hot day..." Garnet sighed, leaning against the counter.

"No, no, don't you dare let yourself feel bad about this." Pearl reassured, resting a hand on Garnet's shoulder. "I'm the one that told you to get some rest. Working in this heat is already hellish enough -- I couldn't imagine doing it when you're dealing with those unbearable cramps."

"Still... You'd think I'd be used to it, getting it once a month and all." Garnet blushed, taking a sip of her milkshake.

"While that is true, sometimes mother nature decides to be a little extra cruel. She likes to keep us on our toes." Pearl smiled, giving her shoulder a comforting pat. "Since our sales were pitiful today, counting the drawer and cleaning the store should be a breeze... And after that, I was thinking of going out for a swim... Would you like to hang out by the pool, perhaps dip your feet in?"

"Not sure... I was planning to go up and lie in front of the fan, if I'm being honest. But if I start to feel a little better, I'll head over."

"Alright." Pearl smiled sympathetically. "Feel free to use my rice sock! And help yourself to my chocolate stash as well."

"Already have." Garnet smirked. She turned and made her way up the stairs.

Once she was gone, Pearl reached for a feather duster and quickly wiped down all of the little nick-nacks that lined their shelves. Then, she unlocked the cash register and pulled out the drawer.

"Twenty five dollars and thirty cents..." Pearl sighed once she'd finished counting. "Another week of ramen noodles, I suppose. Perhaps some rice and beans if we're feeling fancy." Shaking off her frustration, she locked the money up in the safe and made her way up the stairs. 'It'll be alright. Everyone has shitty days... Especially when they're first starting out. And besides, tourist season has just begun! Perhaps we'll need to advertise more...'

* 

Pearl slipped out of her sweaty work clothes and into her modest one-piece bathing suit. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom cabinet and headed back down the stairs, slipping out the back door. "See you later, Garnet!" she called, letting the door fall shut.

She hurried across the street towards the Universe household; an eccentric family of three, and regular shoppers at the antique store, they'd once told Pearl she was free to swim in her pool whenever she pleased... And she certainly wasn't turning down an opportunity like that.

Once she reached the house, she rapped on the front door. As she heard footsteps, she smoothed out her hair -- after all, there was a one-in-three chance she'd be greeted by the beautiful head-of-household known as Rose, and while she certainly had no intentions of being a homewrecker, she wanted to look presentable around her nonetheless.

"Good evening, Pearl!" Rose greeted, and Pearl's heart fluttered in her chest.

"Good evening to you as well!" Pearl grinned. "I had a long day at work, and thought I'd stop over for a swim -- if that's still alright with you, of course!"

"It's more than alright." Rose winked. "Come on in! Unfortunately, Steven's already headed off to bed, and Greg's watching a movie upstairs... As for me, Aunt Flo is currently visiting, so I can't join either -- otherwise I'd gladly swim with you."

"Oh, that's not a problem at all." Pearl said, admittedly a little disappointed; mother nature was particularly cruel today, it seemed. "I just wanted to cool myself off, anyway! It won't be a very long swim."

Rose smiled warmly. "Alright. Next time, though! Steven's been wanting to have a pool party... perhaps this weekend?" She shrugged. "Anyway, feel free to help yourself if you need anything to drink, or if you get hungry... I'll be in the living room. Gotta catch up on some reading, now that I've got some peace and quiet."

"Thank you! I think I'll be fine, though." Pearl nodded gratefully. As Rose headed back towards the living room, Pearl continued to make her way through the house and towards the back door.

* 

Before she knew it, the sun had set; the once beautiful sunset had turned pitch black, and stars appeared one-by-one. Amethyst had half-dozed on the bench for God knows how long; and in all honesty, her body was still sore -- if anything, even more so than before. As much as she didn’t want to get up, she knew she had to find shelter soon...

'Guess I should look for somewhere to sleep.' Amethyst thought. As she pulled herself up to her feet, every muscle in her legs ached in protest. 'Fuck's sake...' she thought with a grumble.

Amethyst began to head down the road, searching for anything that resembled a hotel... She gazed with envy at the houses and apartments that surrounded her, with lit-up bedrooms and people chatting loud enough to be heard through the window screens. Amethyst came to a sudden halt as she heard a familiar voice -- the voice of the boy who'd given her the lemonade earlier, to be exact.

"Ooh, mommy, look at the moon!" he shouted, pointing out the window. "It's a full moon! Do you think there's gonna be any werewolves?"

His question was followed by the sound of an older man chuckling. Amethyst's heart sank; for a reason she couldn't quite parse, she wanted Steven to notice her standing right in front of his house... Maybe if he did, he'd have some more pity on her and let her spend the night inside.

But the boy didn't notice; he turned back around and away from the window, saying something else that Amethyst couldn't quite make out, now.

Clenching her fists, Amethyst eyed the front door. 'Maybe I should just... Straight up ask. Worst case scenario, they tell me to fuck off. I think I can handle that.' Taking a deep breath, she took a step towards the house -- only to fall right on her face.

"Fuck!" she hissed through gritted teeth, gripping her knees. As she tried to right herself, however, her legs refused to obey. 'What the...?' She ran her fingers across her calves, noticing her leg hairs slowly disappearing; purple, opalescent scales began to take their place.

"What was that?" a voice called from inside the house. She no longer wanted to be seen -- not while this was happening. Amethyst dragged herself behind the bushes just before the front door opened. Silence filled the air for a moment, before a deep voice announced, "I don't see anything." and the door shut once more.

Amethyst would have let out a sigh of relief if her legs currently didn't feel like they were on fire -- if they could even be considered legs anymore. At this point, they had begun to fuse together, forming a shimmering fish tail. And to top it all off, her unquenchable thirst had returned.

'The beach... I need to go back to the beach.' Amethyst thought. Her arms trembling, she began to struggle through the grass, though she couldn't quite remember which direction the beach even was... But before she could feel completely hopeless, something on the other side of the picket fence caught her eye -- a massive pool of water. She could faintly smell chlorine, but that didn't matter -- water was water, and if she didn't get to it soon... She feared what would happen.

She spotted a small hole beneath the fence; probably dug up by a groundhog or other woodland creature. Amethyst dug her claws into the hole that'd already been started -- taking a short moment to gawk at the fact that her fingers were webbed, now -- raking out clumps and clumps of dirt until the gap was just big enough for her chubby body to squeeze through.

The pool was finally within reach. Amethyst dragged her body across the remaining grass and leapt in with a splash, and almost instantaneously did her pain begin to wash away. She drew in a long, deep breath, allowing the water to enter the gills that opened up on her neck. No longer did her throat crave water, or did her muscles ache; like magic, she was healed.

Amethyst was confused -- far more than she ever thought possible -- and yet... she was calm. Her eyes fell shut, and she slowly drifted down to the very bottom of the pool, sprawling herself out on the floor. 

* 

Pearl made her way through the back yard, her flip-flops squeaking beneath her feet with every step. Placing her neon beach towel on the lawn chair and setting her shoes aside, she approached the pool and dipped a toe in to test the temperature.

"Eep!" Pearl immediately jerked her foot away. 'Goodness, that's cold...' Bracing herself, Pearl climbed down from the ladder and submerged her entire body in the water.

"Ah... there we go." She let out a sigh of relief once she adjusted, gazing up at the night sky. The full moon illuminated the surface of the pool. Crickets sang from the nearby bushes and trees, and fireflies glowed on the other side of the yard. The row of moonflowers framing Rose's garden had bloomed for the night. ’I wish I could stay here forever…’ she thought, smiling warmly.

Pearl’s peaceful mood was soon interrupted, however, by the mosquitoes buzzing near her exposed skin. "Shoo!" she hissed, splashing water at the swarming pests. When that proved ineffective, she sank down into the pool until the water met her nose.

But as her feet met the floor, her toes brushed something... Soft. Slippery, too. Pearl turned her gaze downward, expecting it to be one of Steven's many pool toys -- only to see a fin covered in shimmering, opalescent scales... And attached to that fin was the torso of a beautiful, lavender haired woman.

[formalmess]

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Twelve

Summary: Luigi is faced with his worst fear. 

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder, Suicide Implications

“Hello?!”

Luigi screamed out into the silent manor, running forward in search of Peasley and Polterpup, calling out their names repeatedly. 

Nearly slamming into the wall as he dashed into the main corridor, he desperately called out for any signs of life. With every second that passed and the further he went, he only felt hope slipping further and further from his grasp.

His stomach began to twist as he pushed open doors, every room leading to more broken clues and signs of distress. The streaks of dried dark splotches along the wall, looking much like blood, only hastened his anxious heartbeat as he looked around feverishly.

“Please, answer me! Is anyone here?!” Luigi screamed, whirling around as he searched the main hall. “Peasley! Polterpup!”

Luigi scrambled to find anything- some clues someone might have left. He investigated under the stairs, trying to steady his breathing as he backed up and looked around him.

Maybe he was overreacting! 

Maybe Peasley was fine, and he had just gone out to take Polterpup on a walk, like last time. Maybe Polterpup had just gotten a bit antsy waiting for him to get back, and that's why the manor was in such disarray. 

Maybe nothing bad had happened while he was gone!

He mentally scolded himself for acting so optimistic, knowing full-well what had happened while he was away. He knew it was his fault, but he didn’t want to have to admit it.

His thoughts only served to make things worse as he continued forward with shaky steps.

Hugging his sides, Luigi pushed open the old wooden door leading to the downstairs corridor. Peasley HAD mentioned he wanted to explore the manor a few nights after their initial arrival. Maybe he just hadn't heard Luigi come in.

“It’s okay... You’re okay… E-Everything is going to be okay…” Luigi whispered to himself, tears still streaking down his face.

The door to the corridor creaked slowly, whining with age as he entered. He turned, trying to glance around in the faint light provided from the deep nighttime.

"H-Hello?"

Turning slightly, he perked up with wide eyes as he noticed one of the nearest rooms had it's lights on, unlike the other rooms in the hall.

He recognized it as the lab, the same room he'd spent plenty of time in before, as per E. Gadd’s request during his ghost-hunting days.

Hesitantly, Luigi approached the small sliver of light coating the floor beneath his feet. He reached for the doorknob with a quivering hand, slowly turning it before pushing the door open, cautious. 

"Hello? Is anyone in here-?"

As his gaze adjusted to the room's bright lighting, Luigi froze. His eyes widened in complete and utter horror as he felt his heart clench in his chest.

Lying dead before him was E. Gadd, strapped down to a chair, his head having fallen to the side and his glossy bloodshot eyes staring down. Saliva dripped down his chin, burn marks covering the rest of his paled body. Dried blood stained his tattered lab coat, his wispy hair lying in damp strands on the sides of his grotesquely rotting face.

Luigi released an ear-shattering shriek as he began to violently sob, hitting the wall behind him and crumpling to his knees.

His mentor was dead. The man who had once been like a father figure to him, was sitting dead right before him.

Luigi’s pained screams soon attracted the immediate attention of the ghosts lingering outside throughout the valley. They phased through the lab's walls only to find Luigi huddled up against the wall and staring forward, the ghosts soon being faced with the reality that their professor was dead.

As the ghastly specters, horrified, wildly entered and swarmed the abandoned lab, Luigi struggled to stare up at them as they tried to help him to his feet.

He just continued to hold the sides of head, crying and sobbing harshly. “No, Grambi, n-no...”

Luigi mumbled inaudibly to himself, scooting back and further up against the wall, trembling and sobbing.

“This is all my fault, this is all my fault, this is a-all my f-fault...” Luigi’s words repeated like a maddened mantra, syllables breaking and cracking as he wept into his knees, trying to steady himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, messily drying his tears with his gloves, but the streams did not cease.

“This is all my fault, t-this is all my fault... w-why...”

He made a mistake, he left them alone, and now he was facing consequences.

But, that’s just what Dimentio had intended. He had won already.

Why couldn’t he just leave him alone?

E. Gadd had been murdered, and Luigi knew it was no coincidence or accident. It was deliberate. His old friend had been brutally killed against his will.

Dimentio HAD been here.

And wherever Peasley and Polterpup were, there wasn't a doubt in Luigi's mind that they’d be suffering an equally horrific fate.

The overwhelming thoughts of death grew to be too much, making his vision grow hazier by the second as exhaustion took over his already fatigued mind. He felt numbed, shaking with fear as he watched the ghosts within the lab now begin to surround him with grunts and worried squeaks escaping their spectral forms.

His thoughts were tangled up with painful thoughts of Dimentio’s smiling, two-toned face, amused with the torment he caused. The mad harlequin’s laughter echoed in his mind, cruelly twisting in with his already horrific thoughts.

Every last whisper lingered and clung to the back of his mind, telling him the same thing over and over again, without stop.

This was all his fault.

Exhaustion soon took over, Luigi’s eyes rolling into the back of his head as several ghosts now feverishly approached to try and help.

The last thing Luigi saw was the ghosts’ concerned expressions before his vision went dark, his eyes shutting.

                                               - - - - - - - - - -

Luigi woke alone.

His eyes opened slowly, squinting as faint streams of sunlight brushed past the curtains. He turned over, realizing he was atop something soft and comfortable, soon coming to the conclusion he was in bed.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his head as he yawned.

He tried to think back to the night prior, only remembering the ghosts… 

They must have put him here. But, why did-?

Luigi froze, feeling his heart pound against his chest as he turned his head to realize Peasley wasn't sleeping at his side, and Polterpup wasn't dozing at the end of the bed by his feet.

Everything came crashing back at once, Luigi starting to sob before he could even comprehend his emotions. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders heaving as he shook his head and cried, alone.

He recalled E. Gadd, worriedly glancing up as he clutched his chest. He had not a clue what had transpired while he slept, and he had to make sure nothing had gone awry with the ghosts. He had no idea how they might have reacted.

He jumped to his feet, the pillows and blankets shifting as he threw them aside to stand up. He stopped, however, upon noticing something crinkling softly beneath the blanket.

He peeled away the covers, revealing a crumpled note upon the bedspread. Lifting it up hesitantly, Luigi scanned the lines with misty eyes, hiccuping and coughing as his sobs intensified the further he read.

Peasley's handwriting, messy and shaky, was almost entirely obscured by black globs of ink. The splotches looked almost like dark and dried bloodstains, a smiley face drawn at the bottom of the stained parchment.

In addition to Peasley's desperate last words to Luigi written on the letter, Dimentio had added his own little touch to the note.

'See you soon...'

Luigi wanted nothing more than to tear the note to shreds, hatred and malice filling his chest as he glared down at the jester's flouncy handwriting, written just below his husband's own. He sniffled, gripping the sides of the letter as his knuckles went white, intent on ripping it in two.

He paused, scornful expression softening as he read over the letter once more. Peasley's quivering scripture upon the note made his hands relax.

'Please never forget how much I love you.'

He couldn't destroy it.

It was the last physical memory he had of Peasley. He couldn't destroy it, no matter how vandalized it was.

Wiping at his eyes sorrowfully, Luigi held the letter close to his heart as he finally sat up and exited the bedroom, heading toward the stairs to face another day.

The next few days and nights were barely recognizable to Luigi. He didn't register their passing, only brought back to reality by the occasional ghost checking in on him.

The ghosts had carefully gathered E. Gadd's corpse the night they’d discovered him, intending on holding a memorial and proper burial for the old professor. Luigi agreed with the idea wholeheartedly, but he could barely communicate nowadays, mostly breaking down in sobs whenever the ghosts tried to suggest something to him.

Luigi didn’t eat or sleep often. He only rested when he passed out from fatigue, and he only ate when his stomach cramped so much that it started to harshly bite away at him, screaming and begging for him to eat something for sustenance. He was extremely dehydrated, constantly crying, mouth dry. He could barely talk. 

He spent days sobbing to himself in silence, the lights in the manor turned off and Peasley's letter held up close to his chest.

Without knowing his husband’s fate, he simply mourned every night and every day. He mourned without knowing. He cried for hours, lying up against walls and sobbing into his palms as he curled up close to the letter his spouse had left him. He gathered up the dead yellow roses in the main hall and kept them safe, not letting them wither away. He had to hold onto every piece Peasley had left for him. 

He didn't like completing any sort of activities anymore. The time only reminded him just how alone he was, and he hated feeling lonely. It hurt more than anything.

At night, when he lie alone in his bed under freezing blankets and against a pillow untouched by warmth for every night the love of his life was gone, he only wept more. Or when he sat alone at the kitchen table without a soul to talk to. Or when he woke in the morning to find no one lying beside him. 

No one was there to comfort him when he had a nightmare, or to hold his hand when he was cold.

He was sure, wherever Dimentio was, that he was very much amused with Luigi's current state. Should he be watching right now, he'd most likely be in uproarious laughter with seeing Luigi curled up on the floor as he sobbed in the total darkness of the empty gloomy manor.

Luigi kept himself in a fetal position, knees tucked close to his face as he read over Peasley’s letter for possibly the hundredth time in the past few days, ignoring Dimentio’s additions.

He perked up, heartbeat hurriedly racing as a knock sounded at the front door.

Standing up, Luigi straightened his shoulders with a jolt as the knocking continued. He shakily exhaled, limping toward the main entrance through the corridor.

He didn’t know who was behind the door. The ghosts had the ability to phase through walls, they didn’t have to bother.

And everyone else he knew was…

He gulped as the sharp knocking sounded yet again.

He had only one idea of who might be out there, and the thought scared him. Or perhaps, there would be something on the porch that that same individual had left. He didn’t know if he was ready. 

Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, Luigi reached forward to grip the doorknob, throwing the main doors open.

He froze.

It felt as though time had stopped.

"...M-Mario?"

"Luigi?”

Luigi practically tackled his older brother to the ground as he pulled him into a desperately tight embrace, hugging him close. He clung onto Mario, digging his paled and thin fingers into his brother's back as he buried his face in his shoulder, holding back harsh sobs. A few whimpers still escaped his lips.

"B-Bro?" Mario chuckled, almost nervously as he pat Luigi on the back. "You okay?"

"I-I'm..." Luigi sniffled. "I missed you s-so much... Y-You're okay...

“Yeah, of course I’m-a okay. What did you think happened?” Mario’s tone softened, trying to pull away from Luigi’s tight embrace. “Are YOU okay though, bro? You look… uh…”

“I’m fine.” Luigi quickly assured, jumping back and brushing himself off. He ran a hand through his hair at a quick attempt to look slightly presentable. He couldn’t exactly cover up the dark shadows under his sunken eyes, trying to avoid eye contact. “...J-Just tired.”

He couldn’t tell him.

Luigi knew, no matter what, he couldn’t tell Mario what had happened. No matter how much it hurt, Luigi knew he couldn’t provoke his big brother.

Mario would just jump straight into danger, blindly going after Dimentio without a thought. He’d get himself killed in the process.

Luigi didn’t want to lose him too. He couldn’t lose him. He was all he had left.

“Peach told me about Dimentio, Luigi.” Mario’s voice was firm. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“I… He…” Luigi still didn’t make eye contact, terrified of lying to his brother. He didn’t even know how much Mario knew, carefully choosing his words before he finally choked out a reply. “He just… he just meant to scare me. J-Just to mess with me, f-for some reason. He’s left me alone lately, t-though.”

Mario skeptically narrowed his eyes, glancing up at his brother as he scanned him from head to toe. “Really? I-a mean, the Princess kept things rather vague in her letter to him, but she seemed really scared, bro. Why was that?”

“W-Well, I don’t exactly k-know what he’s up to… and I don’t know how he’s s-still alive. But, it’s been okay!” Luigi reassured desperately, hoping Mario would just drop the subject.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Luigi sniffled, wiping at his eyes quickly. “Nothing t-to worry about.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Mario spoke sternly, his gaze fiery. “If he’s been messing with you, then I-a don’t want him to ever come back. What he did to you back during the void incident was pure evil. I never want him to get that chance again.”

”Bro… I-I’m fine.”

“Well, Weeg, I have to protect you, you’re my family. Just let me-“

“NO!”

Mario was taken aback at the outburst, stepping away from his younger brother. Luigi breathed heavily.

His gaze flickered momentarily, fighting to hold back tears as he bit his lip. 

“Mario, p-please. Don’t.” He shivered, moving to cover his mouth. “I don’t want you to get into danger...”

“O-Okay. As long as you’re alright.” Mario gently smiled, walking back toward his frazzled sibling yet again. He pat him on the back. 

They stood in silence for a moment.

Luigi sighed, staring back at his brother before motioning down the main corridor. He buried the letter he’d been holding at his side in his pocket, exhaling.

“D-Do you want a snack or anything? I can make you tea.” Luigi tried to act polite, attempting to remember back to what common hospitality usually entailed. “Y-You’ve been travelling a lot, r-right? You need any time to cool off?”

“That’d be nice, bro. Lead the way.”

Luigi did as prompted, walking down the main corridor and gesturing for Mario to follow. He was just glad Mario hadn’t questioned the mess littered throughout the manor.

“I guess I just feel bad, bro. I haven’t been here for you.” Mario suddenly spoke up with a sigh, crossing his arms. “See, I would’ve been back much sooner, but… there was some complications. Cappy insists it was just technical issues, but I coulda swore it was something else… Like, someone was deliberately trying to keep us from getting home.”

Luigi perked up at that statement before Mario continued casually, waving a hand.

“And our stop at Bonneton to drop him off took a lot longer than I would have liked… but, I’m here now. No more excuses.” Mario grinned. “I came here right away, hadta see you first. And I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, bro.”

Luigi forced half of a smile. “I’m just happy you’re back.”

The two found themselves walking toward the kitchen, entering through the entrance just off of the library.

Mario walked in first, Luigi lingering behind as he noticed a cup of freezing dark liquid on the table beside an opened book. He wanted to stay and investigate, but continued on to be with his brother. Mario began speaking once more.

“So, are you staying here for a reason or… what?” Mario inquired, glancing around the kitchen. “Doesn’t it bring back bad memories?”

“Not really.” Luigi tried to sound confident, going into the pantry. “I’m not scared of the ghosts anymore, it’s just King Boo who spoiled things. But he’s gone for now.”

“Right… Hey, thanks for saving me again.” Mario laughed. “I’m sure I don’t play the role of damsel in distress very well.” Mario paused, leaning up against the pantry door. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen the Princess yet…”

Luigi’s heart stung, but he still didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“I didn’t stay long, but things were kinda hectic in Toad Town, from what I saw.” Mario continued, sighing sadly. “All I heard about was Toadsworth’s passing and-”

“What?” Luigi glanced back over his shoulder, standing up with wide eyes. “W-What happened?”

“I don’t know. There were rumors it was because of health issues.” Mario shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t-a know the whole story, but he was old… It makes sense.”

Luigi tried to steady his breathing and not let his mind wander to conclusions. He exhaled, nodding. “Y-Yeah. I hadn’t heard about that…”

Mario glanced back at the kitchen, tilting his head. “So, are you planning on staying here for awhile?”

“I j-just needed a change of pace, bro.” Luigi chuckled nervously, searching through a few boxes before tossing them aside. “I-I’ll probably move back to my place in Toad Town soon.”

“Well, I’d be happy to help you pack up your stuff, if you need it.” Mario offered, smiling. He paused momentarily before glancing back at Luigi. “Hey, where’s Peasley, bro? I thought you guys were living together-”

“Beanbean Kingdom.” Luigi answered immediately without thinking.

“When will he be back?”

“D-Don’t know.” Luigi hoped, somewhere to Grambi, that Mario didn’t notice his hands shaking and the tears pricking at his eyes. He knew he’d have to tell Mario eventually, but he couldn’t tell him now. Not now.

“And I know I already asked, but have you heard from the Princess at all?” Mario gently inquired, holding a hand over his chest. “I missed her a lot while I was gone. Mayor Pauline wanted me to tell her hello.”

“She’s...” Luigi trailed off. “I don’t know, b-bro. She’s...”

Mario straightened his shoulders, tone turning stern. “...Did Bowser do something? I thought he’d realized at this point that-”

Luigi abruptly stood up.

“I’ll be right back, bro, I n-need to go... c-check on something.”

“Are you okay, Weegie?”

“I’m f-fine, Mario. I-I’m just really tired and I... I’m...”

Luigi didn’t finish as he clutched his stomach, leaving the room and running outside onto the patio, finally allowing the harsh tears to escape his eyes. 

Despite his best attempts to keep them subdued, the memories flashed back through his mind, blood splattering his mind and death hazing his coherent thoughts.

His shoulders heaved as he cried alone, knowing Mario would be wondering why he was so upset.

He couldn’t say, he couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t, he couldn’t…

“Weegie?”

Luigi froze, hastily wiping away his tears as he turned back to his brother.

“You okay?”

“I-I’ll be fine, M-Mario.” Luigi attempted to assure, smiling sadly. “Just needed some fresh air… I-I’m sorry for worrying you. I just… really missed you.”

Mario smiled too, folding his arms. “Heh. Missed you more, Weeg.”

Walking back into the manor, Luigi shut the doors behind him with a sigh, Mario at his side. The two brothers settled back into the kitchen, Luigi going back to search through more of the cabinets.

“What kind of tea do you like, bro?”

                                             - - - - - - - - - - -

The evening that followed from there was tranquil.

Mario and Luigi chatted over tea for hours, catching up on everything. Mario told wonderful stories of the adventures he’d gone on, Luigi having to make up a few of his own. It took plenty of willpower for Luigi to not break during the conversation, but he managed. Sometimes, his vision would become misty or hazy, but it didn’t take much to hide it.

At the end of their talk, as day soon turned to night, Luigi led Mario back out to the main entrance.

“I’ll come back soon, Weeg. I just have to catch up with stuff, first.” Mario stood by the door, reaching for the handle. “I’ll be staying at our old place for a bit. You can come visit me anytime, or invite me back over. Like I said, I’d be happy to help you move out of here.”

Luigi nodded.

“Oh, and before I forget!” Mario dug into his pocket, removing a small keychain with ‘New Donk City’ written on it in bright colors. “Mayor Pauline suggested I bring you back a souvenir. I know you don’t usually like surprise gifts, but… I thought it’d be nice!”

Luigi smiled warmly, holding the keychain close. “T-Thanks, bro.”

“Well, I-a better be going.” Mario stretched his arms, opening the door. “I’ll see you later, Weeg. Don’t hesitate to come get me if anything bad happens, or that sorry clown decides to show his face again. Stay safe.”

“Mm. You too.”

Luigi saw Mario off, shutting the door behind him as his brother disappeared into the shadowy veil of Evershade Valley.

And when the doors shut, Luigi burst into tears yet again, the cruel reality of the moment assaulting his already-fragile subconscious. He fell to the ground, crouching down and weeping loudly. 

He knew Dimentio was watching. He knew he was probably planning something right now.

He couldn’t protect his brother. He hadn’t protected Peasley. He failed. He’d failed all of them. He was weak.

Everything hurt.

He didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

                                               - - - - - - - - - -

It had been weeks at this point.

Weeks, since Peasley and Polterpup’s intial dissapearance.

All Luigi wanted at this point was some closure. If what he feared was true, he wanted to know. He couldn’t keep living like this.

He was alone, only having Mario for occasional comfort. And Mario wasn’t in the best shape, either, with him finding out the Princess had apparently “gone missing”. He swore he would find and rescue her. It was a pity he didn’t know what had transpired, and Luigi didn’t have the heart to tell him.

But, Luigi had still gone through with his idea of packing up and leaving the manor. He promised the ghosts he’d be back for E. Gadd’s funeral, telling them he needed some time to himself for a bit at his original home.

In truth, he just wanted to be far away from the nightmarish manor as possible. It’d only brought him misery, and he feared it would continue to.

Packing things up had been rather easy.

Luigi carried out his bags to the main foyer, dropping them off by the front door one by one. He packed Peasley’s things too, just in case, at some chance of a miracle, he was okay.

He stopped momentarily as he glanced around the emptied silent manor before turning to go collect the rest of his things.

He stopped, however, as a knock sounded at the door.

Luigi turned back slowly, expecting Mario to be on the other side, as he had been for the past few weeks.

“Bro? Is that you?”

There was no response.

Luigi hesitantly reached forward, gripping the doorknob shakily before pulling the doors open with a creak.

And lying on the porch was a small box, yellow in color, with a green ribbon tied around it. Luigi felt his heart pounding, clawing at his ribcage, as he reached to pick it up. He shook with anger as he examined the box, tearing away the ribbon.

Slowly, Luigi lifted the top of the box, revealing the seventh tape placed neatly underneath a wilted yellow rose.

Mechanically, almost without thinking, Luigi removed the tape from the box. Tears spilt from his eyes and splashed atop the rectangular tape as he sniffled, wiping away at his hazy vision.

He gathered the box in his arms, carrying it down the main corridor to one of the nearest rooms. He crouched down beside the television inside, pushing the tape into the player. 

It was closure.

The screen flickered alive.

The tape opened with Dimentio's smiling face directly in front of the camera, his grin stretched abnormally wide.

He was obviously pleased with himself.

“Good evening, and welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming! I’m your host, the ever-so charming magician and pleaser of all types of crowds, Dimentio!”

He bowed, the bells on his hat jingling.

“Unfortunately, I must inform you that my assistant for the evening is still not quite ready for his big debut. He’ll be up soon, but until then…”

Dimentio shifted the camera, gliding offscreen.

“I actually have brought a live animal for tonight’s show! They’re a little hard to tame and keep under control, but I think I handled it well… especially with a dog. And one that’s already dead, at that!”

Luigi felt his heart skip a beat.

“Now, trust me, folks. I did my best to do away with this miserable ghastly pup, but to no avail! I simply cannot kill a ghost, no matter how many tricks I’ve got up my sleeve… Oh, what a shame.”

Dimentio then lifted up a picture frame, turning and showing it off to the camera excitedly.

Polterpup’s familiar face, lowered and whimpering, was plastered on the painting. Paints and oils swirled sorrowfully to illustrate the picture of the unfortunate ghost dog. Luigi held back tears as he realized that was his loyal pet, locked within the confines of a painting prison, much like the one his elder brother had endured numerous times before.

“This is a little tribute to all my ghost-hunters in the audience this evening… Trapping ghosts in frames certainly is lovely, is it not?”

Luigi held back a sob as Dimentio tossed the frame aside lazily, throwing it somewhere offscreen without another care.

“H-Hello…? L-Luigi…?”

Dimentio turned his head, the bells on his hat jingling as the magenta smile on his face widened.

“Ah, it appears my assistant has finally awoken! Perfect timing, I must say! There is quite a bit of promise in this show tonight!”

Dimentio moved the camera once more, revealing Peasley groggily awakening. He was tied down to an ornate wooden armchair, blackened cords wrapped around his chest. His ankles and wrists were tied securely.

Immediately upon recognizing his surroundings and captor, Peasley began to fidget and struggle, trying to tear his limbs free.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you.” Dimentio wagged a finger, grinning. “You’ll only tire yourself out, and my, your sad attempts at escape would be absolutely embarrassing for our audience at home to watch!”

“Release me!”

“Ah, ah, ah! You already lost our game of hide-and-seek. T’was fair and square!” Dimentio chided playfully. “No more chances.”

“I know your game, jester.” Peasley lifted his head, glaring defiantly at Dimentio as he began circling him. “I know you want a reaction out of me. I refuse to break for your twisted show.”

Dimentio stopped, facing away from Peasley.

“Ahahahaha…”

His laughter, cold and chilling, rang out in the crackly audio of the tape. It was enough to send a shiver down Luigi’s spine.

“Is that a challenge, then?”

Peasley didn’t answer, pursing his lips as he tried his best to lean back and further away from Dimentio. Luigi could tell he was terrified. 

The jester, meanwhile taking the stubborn silence as a sign to continue, fidgeted his thumbs before clapping his hands together. He continued forward, floating around Peasley as his sinister tone lowered.

“I have plenty in store for you, princey. But, the real fun comes from the anticipation! Oh, but where to begin?” Dimentio lifted his gloved hand to his chin, tapping his porcelain face as he mused aloud. “Now, let’s see… I could pluck your eyes out and send them back home to your husband... I could break every bone in your body to dust... or maybe I could decorate your face in bruises and burns! It’d certainly be an improvement from what you have now…”

Peasley shivered, but still tried to maintain an defiant expression.

“Or perhaps I could tear you apart, limb...” Dimentio abruptly leaned forward, grabbing Peasley by his arms. “...by limb...”

The jester abruptly laughed, smiling as Peasley’s eyes widened in horror.

“I’m sure you have many adoring fans who would just loooove to have a piece of you!”

“I-I’m not afraid of you. You don’t scare me.”

Dimentio scoffed, holding back laughter. “Oh, please. As much as you try to keep up that attitude, you’re still clearly terrified. You must know you’re absolutely helpless, like a wounded deer caught in between a pack of ravenous carnivores!”

Peasley glanced away, trying to avoid eye contact as he bit his lip, frowning.

”Ah, come on, princey!” Dimentio gripped Peasley’s cheeks, trying to force his dull gaze up. “Smile! You’re on camera, after all!”

Peasley huffed, narrowing his eyes.

"Why do you still scowl? This is an honor, after all, being onstage like this! It's demonstrating your love and admiration for your dearest husband." Dimentio laughed cruelly, now perusing some of his tools with a hum. Metal and steel clinked somewhere out of the camera's view. "I only gathered the closest of his friends, and a few who I had to, let's say, tie up some loose ends with!"

Dimentio's smile suddenly brightened, narrowed eyes widening jubilantly. 

"A-ha! There's my favorite blade..."

Peasley attempted, to the best of his ability, to not make any signs of reaction to Dimentio's apparent macabre joy. He straightened his shoulders, glaring forward.

"You refuse to smile, then? Still angry and pouting, like a whiny toddler in timeout? So be it.”

Dimentio raised a purple-ish tinted blade with a flourish, lights twinkling and faint glitter sparkling in his movements, now creeping toward Peasley with his masked grin twisting upward.

"I can fix that."

Peasley leaned back as Dimentio got closer, pressing the tip of the cold blade up against Peasley's cheek. He looked about ready to press down before suddenly stepping back, turning.

"I'd hate to make any unnecessary marks... so..."

Dimentio reached behind him, producing a small thin marker. He removed the cap upon it, quickly drawing thin lines over the sides of Peasley's mouth, smearing purple ink over his face.

He carefully drew on the curved lines meant to represent a smile. He grinned, pleased with his intial handiwork and guidelines before he reached back over to grab the same multicolored blade from before.

"Now, let's see if I can make this look nice... You have to sit still though. Wouldn't want to mess up your face anymore than I want to, hm?"

Peasley's already-terrified gaze widened more as he tried to pull out of the tight restraints wrapped around him, very noticeably shaking.

"Wait! Don’t do this...!” He attempted before Dimentio suddenly grabbed his chin, lifting his head. “You’ll regret this!”

"Quiet now. We wouldn't want to ruin your sole performance on the stage, now would we? Your only stage direction..."

Dimentio raised the blade, digging past Peasley's lips and tearing the sides of his mouth open, right along the lines he'd drawn.

"Is to scream...!"

Peasley attempted to grit his teeth, but Dimentio's agonizingly slow movements only served to hasten his desperate attempts at escape, his struggles getting more frantic. He glanced up, tears streaming down his face as he whimpered in pain, Dimentio continuing to carve a morbid smile on his face.

“Now, I’m quite sure your people would prefer you go out with a defiant smile, and not like some sobbing child who has lost their favorite toy…”

Peasley began to screech in pain, struggling and shrieking as Dimentio tore his mouth open. The cuts from the sides of his mouth, leading almost halfway up into his cheeks, bled profusely. Blue trickled down his face, coating his tunic.

Eventually, after several painful minutes of slicing a smile onto Peasley’s face, Dimentio finished. He smiled, setting the blade aside.

“There we are. A permanent grin is much better than a mopey frown, wouldn’t you agree?” Dimentio mocked with a high-pitched laugh.

Peasley glanced down in horror at himself, breathing hurriedly as he tried to maintain some sense of his composure.

“Hm... While it is an improvement, I think your smile could be a bit wider!” Dimentio turned around, digging through his tools, much to Peasley’s apparent horror. “Give me a moment, won’t you?”

“No, don’t-! Stop!”

Peasley watched with a terrified gaze as Dimentio searched. The jester threw back an empty syringe during his search, Peasley immediately recognizing it from Dreambert’s tape as it rolled across the floor.

Dimentio hummed absently as metal scrapped against metal, throwing aside knives and blades that had been previously used, stained with blood.

He made a soft exclamation of excitement, standing with a jubilant grin on his masked face. He waltzed back over to Peasley, kicking the syringe on the floor away with a snicker before lifting up a cleaver to the camera.

“Let’s make that smile of yours just a little bit bigger, why don’t we?” Dimentio chuckled, reaching forward to grab Peasley’s left wrist.

Peasley’s hurried breathing only grew hastier as Dimentio held down his fidgeting hand, looking at his fingers.

”My, my, what’s this? What a pretty ring…”

Luigi clutched at his clammy hands at that statement, holding his shaking fingers over his own silver wedding band. 

Peasley’s terrified stare soon sharpened to a glare at Dimentio’s comment regarding the golden wedding ring, breathing shakily as he stared at the maddened harlequin.

”You bastard.” Peasley spat defiantly, not paying any mind to the blood trickling down his cheeks anymore. “You should be rotting in the Underwhere. Luigi never deserved any of this. You’re a monster. And you’ll never get what you want.”

Dimentio’s eyes flickered for a moment, his happy smile twisting into a frown.

He lifted the cleaver high and with a sound THWACK, Peasley’s left hand was severed from his arm. It fell to the floor with a thud.

Peasley sat, petrified in horror for a moment, until he finally screeched. Blood poured from his open wound, coating the wood of the armchair and floor beneath him. His screaming refused to cease, the pain unbearable as his shrieks grew louder.

Dimentio’s smile returned, watching in delight as Peasley tore his carved smile further. The cut almost led all the way up his face now, making his permanent smile bigger the more he howled and screeched in pain, muscles and skin tearing bit by bit.

”There it is! The perfect smile for the camera!”

Dimentio bent over, reaching to pick up Peasley’s fallen hand. He giggled, waving it mockingly toward the camera’s view. The jester laughed at Peasley’s protesting and pleas for aid, removing the wedding ring from Peasley’s left hand, examining the golden and emerald band.

”So, I suppose you’re truly the best Luigi could do, then?” Dimentio chuckled, tossing Peasley’s wedding ring aside and out of the camera’s view. “Hilarious. Until death do you part, indeed...”

Peasley’s screaming ceased, having fallen to pained sobs.

“I’m sure the audience at home is very pleased with the performance thus far! What do you think, princey?”

Peasley could barely respond, choking up clots of dark blue as they slipped down his sliced-up cheeks.

“Might as well get to the final trick, then. Wouldn’t want you to bleed out, now would we?” Dimentio scoffed. “Can you imagine what a let-down that would be?”

“L-Lu… Luigi… I’m sor… s-sorry…”

“Hm? If you want a last few words, be sure to get them out.” Dimentio returned to his tools, tossing a few aside as he searched for something. “Everyone you love will be seeing this… it’s always fun to show off such a magical performance to as many people as possible!”

Dimentio snapped his fingers, turning back to Peasley.

“Here we are!” Dimentio lifted something, the soft shing of metal sounding. He lifted a familiar-looking rapier to the camera before showing it off to Peasley. “It’s your sword! Hope you don’t mind that I nabbed it back at the manor… I mean, I already had this idea from the start, but to use your own beloved tools against you? Ah, what a fun and ironic way to go!”

Luigi’s chest ached, barely able to watch anymore. He felt the urge to throw up as he watched Peasley stare toward the camera, his face stained with dark blue blood.

Dimentio harshly yanked Peasley’s head back by his hair, mismatched eyes staring right into the prince’s terrified ones.

“It’s time for our final trick.”

Dimentio held Peasley’s sword at his side, approaching the camera and standing with his hands raised dramatically. He grinned.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, presenting to you for the first and very last time… Prince Peasley! The world-famous sword swallower!”

Dimentio burst into laughter as he turned around to watch as Peasley shook his head, eyes widening in petrified horror.

”The art of sword swallowing requires such precise skill to avoid injury…” Dimentio moved to stand behind Peasley, reaching to tear his mouth open. “Performers often have years of practice, but unfortunately, we don’t have an eternity…”

Dimentio lifted Peasley’s sword, positioning it over his head.

”The show must go on.”

Without any further warning and despite Peasley’s desperate screams for mercy, Dimentio stabbed the sword straight through his mouth. He forced it down his throat, slicing through his internal organs without a care.

Peasley fidgeted, the rest of his body writhing and his eyes horrifically wide as tears streamed down his disfigured face. His fingers twitched and his legs trembled as the sword was driven deeper.

And it didn’t take long before his body ceased all movement, his wide eyes glazing over.

Peasley was gone.

Dimentio stepped back, leaving the sword plunged through the prince.

“And with our assistant’s departure, that concludes this evening’s show!” He tried to wipe some of the blood from his mask, smiling. “Be sure to tune in for our finale, coming quite soon...” Dimentio’s tone, laced with poisonous contempt and amusement, lowered ominously. “It’s going to be a show-stopper. And it will require a bit of... audience participation...!”

He left the camera’s view on Peasley’s corpse as the jester teleported out of sight.

The tape shut off as Dimentio laughed once more, the single sound the only accompaniment to Luigi’s pained sobs.

He was just left to stare at his own pathetic reflection against the empty screen.

Luigi stood instinctively, rushing out of the room. He bounded up the stairs and to the second floor hall, rushing up into the attic from there.

There was nothing left. Dimentio was going to take everything from him. He didn’t want to live to see the finale.

He passed by a collection of rope gathered in the corner, facing toward the windows within the attic. He kicked away some of the rotting wooden boards and glass, pulling himself outside and up onto the roof of the manor. He crawled outside over the shingles, shakily standing up as he made his way to the edge of the roof.

He stared down at the ground below, exhaling. He shivered from the cold air of the darkened evening, quivering as a few last tears slipped down his paled cheeks.

He inhaled, and then shut his eyes.

Luigi let his body weight fall forward, letting go.

And he fell.

                                                 - - - - - - - - - -

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Luigi’s stomach dropped as he was suddenly grabbed at the wrist, being pulled back on top of the roof. Harshly thrown back to safety, he whimpered and winced as he stared up at who saved him, wanting to scream at them for ruining his attempt.

He froze, instead, his breath hitching in his throat.

”N-No... You...”

Dimentio stood proudly right before him, smiling.

“Why, dear man in green... The show isn’t over yet…”

[ofravensandgenesis]

The Investment of an Antagonist - Part One

Entry 04. [Trigger warning content: post contains discussion of Far Cry 5 details including cannibalism, graphic violence, brainwashing, torture, child abuse mention, neglect, mentioned fatalistic/suicidal character pov, dark backstories, etc. Spoilers naturally. Part 01 of 03.] [Link to part two here.] [Link to part three here.] I was cooking dinner and had the sudden EUREKA moment of trying to figure out what exactly I want with regards to an antagonist for an original fic setting. Originally I was going to have a general state of conflict between two nations/city-states/etc on a larger, more impersonal scale, but that didn’t do anything to really interest me in that level of conflict. So I was thinking on why Far Cry 5′s villains and the conflict interests me so, and the eureka moment was realizing that they as villains have a personal stake in all this, and go about it in ways that are reflective of their stories. Specifically for the Seeds, it has me realizing it’s more interesting to me when the villain is acting due to personal motivations of an emotional nature and/or relating to their belief system, and in ways that compliment those internal motivations that can build out into or off of their backstories and other areas of the tale.

Like, it’s more than just a universally formulaic method of brainwashing for all of the people they kidnap during the Reaping (and before it, since it’s a cult and that means there’s a process of indoctrination, ie brainwashing.) All of the Heralds have their specific manner of doing so, and said methods are tailored to the particulars of each Herald’s backstory as is revealed to us.

— Jacob —

Jacob starves the Deputy and other “recruits,” exposes them to the elements, doesn’t give them enough water, keeps them near hungry and dangerous animals (pre-Judge wolves and Judges it seems.) He then gives them a bowl of raw meat that one can read as implied to be human flesh, particularly if Pratt’s anecdote about going hunting in what ends up being not-a-dream from online sources is taken into consideration, as mentioned in a previous writing-about-writing post. Link here to the audio, (credit and thanks to hopecountyradio,) transcription below: “I had a dream once that Jacob took me on a hunt. We shot some deer and he asked me to skin 'em. As I was cuttin’ ‘em open they changed. It wasn’t deer. I...I don’t think it was a dream.”

Obviously one can make some assumptions of Whitetail Militia imagery being used here, particularly given that one of the slides on the projector screens during the Trials includes a picture of Eli with antlers iirc (that may be only during the later trials or the last one, I am uncertain.) Ties right into the whole “the weak must be culled,” and “you are meat,” slogans Jacob’s got all over the place. The “only you” slogans and graffiti could also serve to foster the loneliness and isolation aspect of making the choice “to make the sacrifice” ie, the symbolic choice of killing Miller, or his surrogate equivalent in the case of everyone else that Jacob puts through his trials. I haven’t seen a lot regarding Miller’s ties to Jacob from in-game content but I could have missed something easily. The wiki labels Miller as Jacob’s friend, though I wish we had more detail on that. Most certainly, Miller was a member of Jacob’s unit, which based off of some reading and browsing on the internet, should still be a pretty close tie whether or not they were friends. The following speculation is based on my own interpretations of the matter and I have no history of serving in the Armed Forces, so if I’m mistaken or such feel free to drop me a line to let me know. Continuing: even if they theoretically hated each other’s guts, they were still a part of the unit, a part of the Army. That means they and their other brothers-in-arms lived together and fought together. They ate as a group, slept as a group, watched each others’ backs while on watch or during a firefight, fought along side each other, and did their best to keep each other alive while fulfilling the mission objective, working together as individuals brought together in a cohesive unit that also was a part of the whole. They all knew they had each others’ backs and that the others did the same for them in turn. Shifting between life-or-death situations and more peaceful times, it creates a bond and social structure that is very unlike most common, modern civilian social structures. There certainly at least seems to be a bit of culture shock in the US between the two environs, and Jacob seems to have experienced that, based on what we hear of his backstory in The Book of Joseph of having little to no support once back in civilian life (ie: deeply traumatized and staying in veteran hospitals until he ran out of money and ended up in homeless shelters) after being discharged from the Army. In the Armed Forces it’s about the group, rather than the individual. Imagine having that, knowing that, after being through all that Jacob has potentially been through. To have brothers in arms if not by blood by his side who he protects, who also protect him against the hostility of the world they’re fighting against. This is not to ding Joseph or John as characters by the way, all three of them were children at that point and shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that. Jacob loses what ties of family he holds dear with his blood brothers once he’s put into Juvie, perhaps makes friends there but is likely on his own once he’s out again, with very poor prospects given his history, and then he enlists. He’s alone and without support before he joins the military, and then suddenly he’s in an environment where there IS a form of support, and it’s predictable and structured down to the last bootlace (note: that’s a very broad statement and does not include variance and personal experiences, nor possible issues with potential power abuse or other flaws that might arise in such group structures.) Imagine Jacob being in the Army long enough to get used to that, to enjoy that aspect of it all, to share the camaraderie of bitching about the heat of the sun, sand in their socks, and getting yet another package of their least favorite MRE while trying to wheedle a trade with someone else for something better. Imagine him doing that with Miller, knowing how the other man likes the sugar cookie desserts in one MRE package and hates how the chocolate bars melt from the desert heat in another. Knowing what each others’ tells and bluffs are from playing poker on their down time while on a tour. Swapping stories about home...and noticing who doesn’t want to talk about the life they had before enlisting. Talking about the things they miss, the people they miss. Knowing who snores, who’s a light sleeper, all those things you learn when you’re in close proximity to a person for perhaps up to two years or so depending on deployment length. It could also be they’ve been deployed together more than once, as Jacob certainly went out on multiple tours per The Book of Joseph once again. Imagine Jacob knowing all of that and more about Miller. Then, day after day after day of being lost in the desert, with starvation eating away at their rationality, that hollow pain in their guts as their bodies start burning through their own cells and reserves to try to stay alive, running out of water and having to take chances with any drinking source they can find in the environment and having to expend precious energy to try or die early from dehydration, probably not sleeping well from the hunger, exhaustion, stress, possible enemy presence, dangerous wildlife... The brain starts shutting down real quick once we don’t have the resources it needs to run optimally. Some faster than others, but in Jacob and Miller’s case, their ordeal is definitely long enough to put them into that mindset of feeling that primal fear of a slow death by famine, weakness, scarcity. The psychological toll would have been heavy without a doubt, and that might’ve been compounded by experiences in Jacob’s childhood if his parents were not dutiful in buying food more regularly, which easily could be the case. Old Mad Seed needs more whiskey this month to fuel his raging, drunken fits of spewing biblical verses in a tyrannical fashion? There goes the money for the last few days of food. Easily could be how Jacob got into stealing candy (and likely also food in that case) for himself and his brothers. So Jacob would have a good idea of some of what’s coming down the pipe in that case. He knows how long the trip is, can reckon how fast the two can travel. Maybe he starts out hopeful in a grim way to start... ...but over time as things get more and more desperate (and it could be a familiar desperation he’s felt before as a kid going hungry, only worse,) “And I looked at Miller and I could tell we were as good as dead. And I accepted that. And in that acceptance...came clarity.” That clarity could very well be that Jacob decided that morality was futile if it meant you didn’t survive, which could very well be a very world-breaking revelation for him, since he is mentioned in his backstory to have had a praiseworthy sense of honor among other things. Certainly is potentially spirit breaking to go from being the older brother, the brother-in-arms who relied on and was relied on, who was trusted, to being a betrayer of that trust. A Judas, one could say, as he calls Pratt in his video after Pratt has helped the Deputy escape. And what does Jacob make the Deputy become, in relation to Eli? Eli, the man the Deputy was rescued by, was aided by, has been working alongside this entire time. Eli, who trusts and relies on the Deputy. Eli, who it could be said betrayed Jacob’s friendship with him by choosing not to hand over the Whitetail Militia and join Eden’s Gate (from Jacob’s perspective, based on his final fight dialogue.) “Hey. Only you could have gotten this close. Only you could have earned his trust. It was always only ever you. Good work. You did it. You passed your test. You made your sacrifice. But now...you’re alone. And you’re weak. And we know what happens to the weak.” That might seem contradictory at first, since in theory making the sacrifice should make one “strong” by Jacob’s line of reasoning, one might think. But the Deputy is a “traitor” now—to the Whitetail Militia by brainwashing (temporarily as we the audience know, pending Jacob’s death,) and to Jacob by choice, if one takes the following lines from Jacob into consideration: “You’ve forgotten your purpose, Deputy. You were on the path of the Chosen but now you’ve strayed. Fear did this to you, but don’t worry, I can help with that. I can remove your fear and give you strength. It’s not too late. Come back to me. Remember your purpose.” ”Deputy, know that I still have hope for you, but if you continue to support Eli and his merry band of cowards, that hope will cease to exist. Your judgement is cloudy because your mind is weak, but I have confidence you’ll make the right choice in the end. If not—you’ll all pay in blood.” Link to the audio for the above two lines here (credit and appreciation to hopecountyradio once more.) As with the other Seeds, Jacob starts out trying to persuade the Deputy to “see the light” and join the Project, but as with all of them, as the resistance meter rises and we draw closer to the final confrontation with him, he and the others abandon that idea in favor of trying to end the Deputy instead. So in this possible interpretation, it could be that Jacob views both the Deputy and Eli as traitors both. However...the two situations while both likely quite weighty with the Deputy being “the chosen one” to kick off the Collapse (or a herald of the Collapse if one wants to be cute with wording,) and Eli being an ex-good-friend or perhaps even ex-best-friend of Jacob’s, are potentially vastly different in emotional weight to Jacob. The Deputy is all tied up with this Collapse business, and while Jacob isn’t sure if Joseph talks to God, he does support him, what with being a Herald in the cult and all that. It involves the fate of the family, and in particular, Jacob’s family—his brothers and sister. Eli, however, Jacob has known for a while, likely years, back during the construction of the bunkers which Eli helped with, possibly and likely before then. I personally lean towards interpreting that as they struck up the beginning of a friendship, and Jacob hired Eli and his crew to help with the construction of the cult’s bunkers. Where they had their falling out is less clear as far as I’m aware. It could be it was during or after construction that Eli got a bad feeling about all of this Eden’s Gate business, or perhaps even as late as the beginning of the Reaping if that’s when Jacob gave Eli the “chance” to hand over his Whitetail Militia members, as mentioned in his final boss battle red-bliss section. That could’ve been the breaking point for Jacob and Eli, and if Jacob was expecting Eli to side with him due to friendship and perhaps some shared beliefs...perhaps Jacob took that...poorly. And by poorly I mean went full out on revenge of having Eli killed by betrayal of someone he’d chosen to trust—someone that Jacob had already gotten his hooks into. Someone Eli needed, in this fight against Jacob. Someone like the Deputy. The Deputy, who’s been put through starvation, exposure, and ingrained through conditioning and likely a liberal use of Bliss to facilitate said conditioning, to hunt. To train. To kill. To sacrifice. “You take away a man’s basic needs, and he will revert to his primordial instinct in just ten days.” [Chuckles.] “Ah, that’s a difficult thing to understand unless you’ve lived it...” This is what Jacob is putting the “recruits” and the Deputy through—his revelation. His experience. His choice. In the end as Jacob succumbs to his injuries, he is weak, he is dying, and he knows it, looking at the Deputy in his final scene. This time, he is the one who is sacrificed, by the Deputy, and in Jacob’s eyes by Joseph, to either try to end the chaos spread across the county, or to break a seal respectively. Jacob’s death is a means to an end—as Miller’s was. And Jacob “accepts that,” as he puts it. Does he accept it because now he’s betrayed the trust and faith of potentially two people he might’ve been close to? Miller, and then Eli? Is Jacob conditioning the Deputy during that red-bliss sequence of his boss fight to kill Jacob, based on how there are bliss-hallucinations of Jacob to shoot while destroying the beacons? There’s the generic Whitetail fighter, Judges, and Jacob himself scattered across the landscape before ending that sequence as far as I’m aware. Both Jacob and the Whitetail fighter present could be interpreted in this line of thinking as echoing the supposed betrayal of both sides and being “alone” against the world in a nightmarish fashion while Jacob potentially tries to break the Deputy through talking and said nightmare. The way Jacob talks though...is he strictly speaking to us, or is the Deputy actually a mirror as it were, with the things Jacob says being applicable to himself? “Don’t you find it ironic that everyone you try to help ends up worse off? Eli...Pratt...Tragedy just follows you. If you really wanted to keep people safe, be a hero...you’d just off yourself. Safer for everyone that way.” Is Jacob REALLY talking to us, or to himself through a medium? Through a glass darkly, as it were. He “tried” to “help” Eli and Pratt, in his twisted fashion, by trying to get Eli previously to join the Project and to make Pratt strong enough via brainwashing to also join the Project, which in Jacob’s perspective if he’s following his and Joseph’s dogma, is the only way to survive the Collapse. But Jacob has failed, repeatedly, to protect the people he held dear—his family. His friends. He’s become the threat they need protecting from. He has irrevocably perhaps proven to himself that under the right circumstances? He’s willing to betray people he holds dear for his own survival. Would he betray his family? That is the question, isn’t it. Perhaps Jacob fears finding out. Maybe he fears, that under the right circumstances, he would. Maybe that’s why he goes so willingly to be Joseph’s sacrifice, in part. Maybe having orchestrated Eli’s death, the death of yet one more person whom he was once friends with, yet one more person Jacob himself has betrayed, maybe Jacob doesn’t want to continue either. Maybe that’s the last straw, the nail in the coffin of underlying beliefs that Jacob is inherently not someone who can be fully trusted. Maybe he genuinely thought Eli would join him if given the chance. Maybe Jacob was still hollow and brittle as hell from the first time he’d killed a friend, when he killed Miller. All the Seeds bear the weight of their pasts heavily, and Jacob’s no exception. Jacob survived the first time, barely. He survived the second time, but not by long. He starts talking about his potential death at the Deputy’s hands quite early on during the red-bliss segment. Neither John nor Faith nor Joseph to my knowledge do so. Maybe he was waiting for the Deputy to be strong enough to finish what no one else could. Maybe that was what he wanted. “There’s no “win” for you here. It all ends bloody. For everyone. You die now, or you die later. It’s up to you. But either way? You won’t die a hero.” Perhaps that line from Jacob also is one of the things he fears most—dying without purpose. Dying being not a hero, a person who’s done good for others, but rather the opposite. Ironically so, given that he and his family are all in the torture and brainwashing business, but Jacob in particular gave up on being a good person a long time ago, I think, even by the cult’s standards. [Link to part two here.] [Link to part three here.]

[orangejuice-y]

If I Were Someone Brave: 1 (First Steps)

Summary:  Trained military sharpshooter Beau Young is stationed at a secret and secure base housing various technologies with unknown uses and abilities. When Beau activates one of said devices she is thrust into a wormhole, sending her hundreds to thousands of years into the future. When she arrives she finds nothing but wasteland as far as the eye can see. Confused and disoriented, Beau walks for days until she stumbles upon a wall, beyond which is the utopia of Detroit Deluxe. Tired, hungry, and looking for answers Beau heads in, meeting and joining forces with the city's governor Abraham Kane to fight against a group from a city in the sewers, the Burners. But where do her loyalties truly lie?

Originally Posted: AO3  on 2019-04-29

Word Count: 3,250

Writer’s Thoughts: I hate this chapter hdfuaksvf. It’s so bad, but the story gets better as you read (I hope). A very weak start for the fic in my opinion, but this was also my first serious works, and I’ve been working to improve in the year I’ve been not posting.

"Sargent Young, Major Jamensen will see you now."

A woman nodded to the uniformed man, entering the metal door he had just left from. A stern and powerful looking man sat at a cluttered and rickety looking desk facing the door. The moment the door slid shut behind her the woman saluted him.

"At ease soldier," he said, waving his hand to her as she sat down across from him. "Miss Beau Young. Your reputation proceeds you. It's no wonder you've become a Sargent at such a young age."

"Thank you sir, it means a lot." Beau bowed her head to him as he continued.

"And because of that you will be transferred." Jamensen shuffled through the appropriate papers, not sparing Beau a glance. "Your new post will be at area 51."

"Area 51? Isn't that place really high security? No disrespect, but are you sure I should be put on the job?"

Jamensen nodded. "Even so, you're a good shot. Sharpshooters like you are one in a million." Beau thanked him for the praise, though she figured he was just trying to reassure her. "You won't be doing anything too high security. You'll only be making rounds around building 5."

Beau had no clue what building 5 was, she'd never been given access to anything in area 51, same as the majority of soldiers.

"A jeep is waiting for you there now, Sargent Young. Don't disappoint."

"Yes sir." Beau stood up and saluted Jamensen before exiting his office. She hadn't packed anything yet, but she wouldn't dare talk back to her superiors.

Following his orders almost mechanically, Beau made her way out of the small building and into the Nevada desert. Just as he said there was a military jeep parked right outside, two stone-faced military officers waiting. She hurried in and slammed the door shut as the car peeled out of the base.

The ride was silent. It was clear the two in the front weren't one for conversation, making the car ride dull. Beau tried to look out the window for some kind of entertainment, like a wild dog or really anything. But the was only met with dirt, rocks, and more dirt, making the hour or so ride feel like decades.

As the car finally came to a stop she hastily tumbled out with a heavy sigh.

"Finally! Something other than nothing!" Beau had a smile as she looked up at the gates to the secured military base. The two men got out as well, giving her a sidelong glance as she pulled herself up. They lead her into the compound, weaving through groups of soldiers patrolling the grounds.

Unlike the base she came from Area 51 seemed to have much better equipment and upkeep, for obvious reasons. The buildings that surrounded her were concrete, lacking any detail other than thick metal doors and spare windows. Beau looked to the groups of fellow soldiers going about their duties. They all seemed far more diligent than the ones back at her base. They all had something to do, be it patrol or move equipment, and when they weren't doing that they spent their time training. It was clear that there wasn't a second wasted here.

"Sargent Young."

"Y-yes!" Beau was pulled from her people watching when one of the two men turned to her. They had stopped in front of a rather small one-story building.

"This is building 5, where you will patrol. Whatever's in there is broken, so don't worry about fucking up your new job just yet." Without any further explanation, the two left her there.

I guess I'll get my rifle after mealtime then...

Beau entered the building, looking around to see if anyone was there. She was alone. She let out a sigh, relaxing her posture. Beau took a look around the room. It didn't seem too odd. Not at all what she was expecting at least. There were no crazy secret military or government experiments. No strange creatures in pods, no aliens. All that lined the walls where various machines and electronics. Circuit boards with blinking lights. Buttons and switches, all with labels that seemed like codenames, like Mother Goose A. How'd they remember any of these?

Beau stood by the door for over an hour, completely still in the room, watching for any movement. But there was nothing. Since nothing was going on and it didn't seem like anything would happen anytime soon Beau left her spot by the door, turning back to all the buttons and switches. She looked them each over.

Tree House, Starlight, what kind of labels were these?

That's why I'm not one of the scientists. Like hell I'd ever remember what these are...

Beau continued to read each label.

Project Donuthole?

Curiosity getting the better of her she decided to flip the switch. Nothing. No noise. No lights changed. Nothing.

"I guess they really are broken." Beau glanced off to the side, about to return to the front door. But then something caught the corner of her eye. A second door. One she hadn't noticed before. She made her way over.

"If I'm going to be patrolling this building and standing guard all day I might as well get acquainted with it." So with that, Beau pushed open the door. A flight of wooden stairs lead down to a basement. Instead of a dark abyss at the bottom there was a dazzling glow of colorful lights, drawing her in. Beau made her way down the stairs, each squeaking as she went.

When she finally reached the bottom her eyes widened. The room was completely empty, save for a giant colorful tear in the air. It was as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and cut through space. The pulsing and swaying lights drew her in further, leaving her senses dulled as she blocked out everything else.

"You aren't supposed to be down here!"

The voice caught Beau off guard, making her yell out. Her yelp only got louder as she lost her footing in surprise, sending her tumbling into the tear.

Colors swirled and engulfed Beau, making her nauseous as she fell for what seemed like hours. The silence was deafening, drowning out her screams.

Then it was suddenly over. A split second later she fell face first out of the tear. She scrambled to her feet, but what she saw before her nearly made her fall over again. Instead of seeing the basement room and an angry scientist she saw a wasteland. There were no signs of life. Beau couldn't recognize anything around her. All trees or plants that would be around was gone. There was no sign of anyone, be it plant, animal, or human.

Beau turned around, ready to go back through whatever she had come through. But it was gone, as if it had never existed.

"No...nononono please no! No no, it can't be gone!" Beau yelled, scratching at the air where the tear once was. Maybe she would have been braver if she had her rifle. Or if she had any clue where she was.

The adrenaline in her blood and the strobing colors finally got to her, making her throw up. She fell to the ground. She laid there, dry heaving even after she was sure she’d thrown up everything in her stomach. Her thoughts of self hate and loathing raced, trying to regain her breath again, until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

Pathetic! What kind of soldier am I if I can't get through this?

Beau pulled herself up. She had to go. Go anywhere. If she walked long enough she was sure to find something. Some sign of humans, or anything living.

So that's what she did. She walked and walked. She had no real destination in mind. How could she? She had no clue where she was. But she couldn't just give up and die. Beau walked for a day and a half in the desert wasteland. In that time she hadn't encountered anything, no food, no water, no animals. Not even a cactus she had assumed would dot the sand. Her hope was quickly fading as she faced the threat of dying from dehydration. Or whatever made this place a wasteland. Weak, tired, and hungry Beau struggled to stay afoot. Then she saw it

A wall.

It was huge, stretching as far as the eye could see both left and right. Beau tilted her head to the sky. She couldn't see the top. Her heart skipped a beat she struggled her way over. As she got closer and closer to the wall small figures started to take shape, and those small figures soon turned into people.

"H-hey!" She called out to them. Each of them turned in alarm. Their clothes were something she'd never seen before. A full body suit, white and light blue, with an unfamiliar emblem and a tag reading 'Kane Co.'. They wore hats that covered their entire head, only a small portion of their eyes visible. They all pointed guns shes never seen before at her, causing her to instinctively raise her hands.

"Please let me in...! I-I've been walking around out there for nearly two days!" Beau pleaded, causing the group to quietly converse with themselves, there eyes never leaving her for too long.

"So there really are people out there?

"But everything except Deluxe is gone right?"

"We'll have to take her to Kane."

Beau opened her mouth to ask what the hell they were talking about but was stopped when she was roughly grabbed by one of the men, the others pointing their guns at her. Of at least what she assumed to be guns. They were something she hadn't ever seen before, long and white with small blue details. They almost looked like a rectangle with a trigger. Either way, she didn't want to initiate any fight, she didn't have any strength left anyway.

The man holding her arm touched the wall, causing a small holographic square to pop up. Beau raised an eyebrow as the man typed into it. A section of the wall opened up as the keyboard shut off and Beau was lead inside. It seemed like an elevator, more holographic buttons showed up along one wall and she felt the room lurch as it began its accent. Her groggy mind assumed it was to the top of the wall, whatever it was that was up there. She got her answer when the doors slid open.

Inside was a city straight out of a sci-fi movie. Everything was white. Beau's mouth fell open in awe as she stared wide-eyed at all the floating towers and cube-shaped pods flying between them.

"What the hell is this place...?"

"What? Never been to Detroit?" One of the men said. Beau stared at him, even more confused.

"Detroit? Detroit Michigan? I've been to Detroit, and this sure as hell ain't it." Last she checked Detroit was a dangerous dirty and crime filled city. Not some futuristic place like this.

"Yeah, this is Detroit, always has been." The man glanced at her as they entered one of the pods. It floated up as soon as they were all in, heading for the tallest tower there.

"But Detroit is crime capital of the U.S! T-This is nothing like it!"

The men ignored her, focusing ahead at the incoming building. The pod docked and Beau was dragged out, lead through winding halls with endless doors. Soldiers and scientist walking the halls each gave her a range of confused, frightened, and disgusted glances. She tried to ignore them and brush them off. She was dressed differently then all of them, not wearing their white and blue uniforms, looking dirty and drained. No wonder she got looks.

The group stopped in front of a large set of doors, one bringing up the holographic keyboard again. Moments later the doors opened and Beau was pushed inside.

"We've brought the girl from the wasteland Mr. Kane." One of the soldiers spoke up.

Wait when did they tell this Kane guy?

"Good. You can leave now." Kane said as he turned around to face Beau. He dressed in all white and was bald at the top of his head. The rest of his hair was tied into a ponytail. He walked up to her, hands behind his back. "So your the girl they found in the wasteland?" The power and control behind his voice reminded Beau of her superiors, making her pull down the bandana from over her mouth and stand at attention as she answered him.

"Yes sir, that would be me."

"Why were you out there? Where did you come from?" Kanes voice was calm, but he was stern and forceful.

"I can't say I know. One second I was at the military base and the next I was on the ground in...wherever out there is."

Kane raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, though his eyes showed he was skeptical. "Tell me a bit about yourself."

Beau paused for a moment, trying to decide what he should and shouldn't know. "My name is Beau Young. I was Sargent and sharpshooter for the U.S military. One second I was at my new assignment and the next I was here."

"U.S military?" Kane echoed. His mouth twisted into a smile under his goatee. It combined with the glint in his eye sent a shiver down Beau's spine. "That's been disbanded for decades. Theres nothing left to protect."

Beau stared back at him in shock. "Pardon? That can't be sir, I was there just two days ago."

Kane looked her up and down. "You don't look like your from Deluxe. Did you come from Motorcity?"

Beau was only more confused by his question. "Sir, what year is it?" A stupid question, but the Detroit she knew was nothing like this.

"The year is 2219."

Beau stared off for a minute. The words didn't really connect for her put first? 2219? She was from 2019, how the hell was that possible? How was any of this possible? How could she walk from Nevada to Michigan in two days? How was Detroit the only thing standing? What was with all the futuristic...everything?

"That can't be."

Kane again raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"I'm from 2019 sir. I was just stationed at Area 51 in Nevada. But now I'm here, in Detroit, in 2219. How is that possible?"

"You're from the past?" Despite how tense Beau seemed Kane began to laugh. He clearly didn't believe her. Beau gave in a concerned and confused glance. "At ease cadet." Kane said to her. Beau hadn't even realised she was still standing at attention, but the wasted no time following his commands. "You clearly know your way around a fight." He gestured to her muscular figure. "From the past or not, you could be extremely useful. How about we make a deal?"

Now it was Beau's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What kind if deal do you mean?"

"You help me protect the people of Deluxe from those Motorcity scum and I'll provide you a place here in Deluxe. You sure look hungry."

And that she was. But she also had no clue what Kane was talking about. "Isn't Detroit called the Motorcity? What's Deluxe?"

Kane smiled down at her. "A little history lesson then? You see, many years ago I built this wonderful city of Deluxe to protect the people of Detroit and give them a safe place out of the wasteland. Theres no danger to them here, and I work hard every day to make sure that's the case." He paused for a moment, looking out the window and down to the ground below the floating buildings. His eyes stopped on a small tunnel that seemed to lead underground. "But you see, the people of Motorcity want to tear all these people away from their safe haven, down to the sewers they live in, having no concern for safety where they do whatever it is they want." He turned back to Beau, a scowl now peeking from his goatee. "They say that I've stolen their freedoms, and they drive up here in their cars trying to start a fight. They're trying to put everyone here in danger. But none of them seem to understand what I sacrifice!" His voice boomed, frightening Beau for a moment, but Kane quickly regained his composure. "There are tough decisions I have to make, but I do it all for Deluxe. The scum of Motorcity come here and try to destroy everything I've sacrificed so much for. They must be stopped. They are a danger to all Deluxians."

Beau took a moment to take it all in. She still had no idea what had happened. She didn't know why everything was a wasteland. She didn't know much about Deluxe or Motorcity. Kane looked at her expectantly. "So, whatdda say kid?" Beau looked past him, out the windows of the skyscraper, down at all the other glass building. Down at all the floating pods carrying people across Detroit. This was all that was left of humanity. All the people in their identical jumpsuits went about their day as if it was like any other. And it was for them. They all seemed pretty happy. Why would someone try to destroy that happiness? It was that very question that sewed the seeds of doubt in her mind.

Suddenly the earsplitting screeching of tires cut through the air as a green  muscle car peeled out from the tunnel. Guns strapped to it shot out green laser-like bullets, only adding to the noise pollution. The people nearby looked panicked as the car whipped past, driving on the barren winding white roads, jumping from pod to pod on it's way seeming up to where she and Kane where. Kane quickly ran over to the window, Beau close behind.

She'd never seen a car go so fast, even in the races on TV. It was going well over 200mph as Kane brought up one of the holographic screens, quickly typing commands into it. Beau watched from the window was several silver box shaped bits came from all directions, swarming the car as it shit at each, only causing more panic. Kane continued to send wave after wave at the car, which continued to speed to the building they where at as it fired. The car swerved left and right, barely keeping on the path. Beau was thoroughly impressed. At the speed it was going it was amazing the car stayed grounded on the thin track. Soon enough the boys became too much for the lone car to handle, causing it to drive off the path, falling on top of a passing pod. The driver wasted no time peeling off, going down and down until it reached the ground again, retreating back into the tunnel, a handful of boats chasing after.

Everyone down in Deluxe seemed terrified, as if they all expected to have been caught in the crossfire. They truly need protecting. Beau's mouth was agape as she stared down the tunnel.

Kane's loud breath brought her out of her transe. She walked up to him. Beau extended her hand to the man, looking him in the eye. "Sir, you have yourself a deal."

A smile spread across Kanes face as he too her hand, shaking it firmly. "Excellent. And please, call me Kane."

[bbrandy2002]

The Breakfast Club

Chapter Three

WARNING: Suicide mentioned. Profanity and bullying.

*I promise this will be more like the movie soon 😉

___________________________________

Maxwell stood completely intrigued before the petite, brunette with the most captivating smile he'd ever seen. She was beautiful, but, in a natural way. Unlike the girls he knew, mostly rich, snobby types, whom wore an air of arrogance; Riley seemed genuine, pure, and sweet.

Maxwell looked at his surroundings..a couple of run down buildings...several of them vacant. If Maxwell wasn't getting a tattoo, he never would have known the place existed.

He rose both arms and motioned to their location, "so what's a girl like you doing in such a rough and tumble neighborhood?"

Riley smirked and placed a hand on her hip, "I could ask you the same Mister Red Porche", she joked while briefly acknowledging the vehicle behind her.

Maxwell snickered, "fair enough" and moved his sunglasses to rest on top of his head. With the darkness of the glasses removed from his vision, he tipped his head back in a bit of concern. He pointed to the outside of his left eye, "so how'd you get that shiner?"

Riley immediately placed her hand over the outside of her eye. Maxwell noticed her timid posture, however, she slightly giggled, "If you only knew how clumsy I am", she rolled her eyes and shook her head nervously, "...sometimes I can't seem to keep one foot in front of the other without tripping over them."

Maxwell raised an eyebrow, but, nodded in agreement, "yeah....I have that problem sometimes too" tapering off his words.

Riley appeared to relax again as an awkward silence took over.

Maxwell broke this lull and shifted his posture, "Sooo....it was nice to meet you Riley."

Maxwell noticed Riley's eyes start to flutter and her body weave slightly. She reached out and grabbed on to his arm. He immediatly hoisted her closer to him as her face smashed into his aching chest. She went mostly weightless in his arms and he walked with her a few feet to his car. He held on to her with one arm and opened his passenger side door with the other. He gently placed her in the seat and lowered the headrest back.

Maxwell began rubbing her arm and asking if she needed him to do anything for her. Riley's skin felt cold and clammy, small beads of sweat had surfaced on her forehead and both hands were trembling.

She swallowed hard and with a raspy voice told him she needed water.

Maxwell anxiously reached across Riley, grabbing a half emptied bottled water from the middle console. He promptly removed the cap, lifted her head up to her chest, and placed the opening to her dry lips. She lapped the water down until not even a single drop was left.

She laid her head back, closed her eyes and rested an arm on her forehead.

Maxwell studied her her body language as the rise and fall of her chest started to even out. He reached up and pulled her frail arm from her forehead, placing it easily across her stomach.

With the direness of the situation, he hadn't noticed the deep purple bruises that adorned her forearm.

Maxwell bit his top lip and turned his head away. His mind was racing with speculations.....was she really unadept or did someone hurt her? He took a deep breath through his nose, holding it, before blowing it completly out his pursed lips.

He avoided asking her about the marks when he turned back to face her; she'd probably make another excuse anyway. Riley sat up in the seat, smoothing out her dress as Maxwell adjusted it's back into an upright position.

Maxwell cleared his throat, then tilted his head, "there's a diner about two blocks from here and I'm starving...what'dya say about joining me...my treat." Her eyes started to beam and the corner of her lips curved upward, she answered softly, "okay."

He shut the door and retrieved her old guitar that lay flat on the hot concrete sidewalk. He walked swiftly to the drivers side, opened the door and placed her guitar in the back before sliding in.

They made small talk over dinner, mostly about her music. She spoke to him about her dreams of going to New York City and playing for a big label recording company.  Her friend Daniel had moved there last year and invited her to join him when she had the opportunity.

He was impressed by the fact that she could out talk and out eat him. He made the assumption that the episode earlier was from dehydration. I wonder when she ate last?

She was funny and laughed at his goofball stories. He enjoyed her company and she appeared to have similar feelings of him. There was an amicable affection, but, not sexual in nature, completely platonic.

Maxwell offered her a ride home, but, she denied needing one since her apartment was just a few blocks away. After paying the bill, she thanked him for the meal, shared a quick hug and both parted ways.

Two miles into his drive, he realized Riley's guitar was still in his back seat. He made a quick u-turn and sped back to the neighborhood he just left in hopes of catching her. As he was stopped at the corner of the diner, he glanced over and there she was; sitting with her back against the exterior of the diner; knees bent, head resting on them with her arms tightly wrapped around her legs.

He manuevered his car into an empty space along the street. He got out and approached her slowly, "Riley?".

She looked up at him with red tear stained eyes and he knelt down beside her clutching her back.

With a quiet whimper, she answered, "I have no where to go."

His heart sank and his stomach turned. He reached for her hand and pulled her up with him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and glared at her for a short moment, "yeah you do...come on."

***

Olivia prepared to descend the grand stair case when someone caught her eye; a sharp toothed grin would surface on her plump, red lips. She grabbed ahold of the railing and began her slow descent. "Well, well, well" she would say mockingly, "it appears they'll allow any old riff-raff to clean this place".

Drake clenched the shaft of the wooden mop, stopping his momentum, then contining its side to side motions.

Once she reached the main floor, she leaned against the ornate statue that adorned the bottom railing, "I heard about your little exploits last night...did poor Drake have a rough evening?" she continued with fake sorrow.

Drake turned away from her, wearing his usual scowl, continuing his task. He was in no mood to deal with her this morning; he just wanted to get his punishment over with.

Olivia pushed herself from the statue, clasping her hands in front of her,  before making her way to Drake's position. "You know Walker, all this mopping will be good for you once they finally decide to lock you up".

Drake dipped the mop in the warm water of the bucket before slinging the drenched mass of cloth at her. Water pooled across her feet and the bare flesh of her lower legs.

Olivia glanced down, seething and considering the situation.

Drake put the mop in the bucket, placing both hands on top, "anything else you'd like to add bitch?".

Olivia eyed him with malice before bending down to remove her light pink heels. She stood and inched closer to his face. With an icy whisper, "Know your place commoner...you are a nothing...you may as well not even exist" she accentuated every word. With a smirk, she dropped both heels in the mop bucket and smirked, "by the way, you missed a spot."

Drake went to lunge at her when Bastien, standing at the top of the stairs noticed the exchange and called out to him.

Olivia's face turned smug with an added devilish smirk. She bit the tip of her index finger and gave a wink before scampering off.

Drake hated her strongly and had for many years. She represented everything he despised about these people. To him, she had the perfect, cozy life without a care in the world. Her beautiful sparkling dresses, the diamonds and gold that glittered on her ears and neck, the fancy balls and all her rich, better-than-you friends who made no secret of his value to anyone. He was 18 now and was free to get away, but, he couldn't abandon his sister the way his mother had.

"Drake", Bastien would say while clamping his shoulder, "you've got to stop engaging her son".

Drake huffed and became defensive, "you don't even know what she said...and don't call me son!".

Bastien clasped his shoulder a little harder, "I don't need to know what she said, I'm certain, knowing her, it wasn't kind...but, Drake, you gotta realize, she's a lot like you, dealing with the same emotions. You both just express them differently."

Drake forcefully shirked his shoulder from Bastien's clutches and pointed his finger at his face, "don't you dare ever say she's like me, she's nothing like me!". He took a step back and kicked the mop bucket away; water splashing trails as it glided. He stamped past Bastien and out the front door.

***

Liam stood in front of the bathroom mirror as he stared at the face in front of him. His day had been filled with one boring lesson after another. His father was preparing him to take on the duties of a crown prince; a duty he did not want.

The way Constantine cursed at him and would tightly grab the back of his neck for getting a question wrong was at the forefront of his mind. He remembered the way his brother looked just days ago...happy and content. Why can't that be me?

Liam's mind was swirling and the pressure in his head was crushing his entire body.

He turned the sink on and bent over to splash some warm water on his face; it did nothing to quench the pain and stress that had overcome him.

He placed both hands on the counter and dropped his head down. He looked back in the mirror and realized his puffy eyes were filled with tears.

He spoke to himself, "do it you fucking coward...just do it already."

He closed his eyes and was breathing so heavily he began to feel a rush.

He walked back into his room and over to his dresser. He opened the top drawer and grabbed his prescription of Xanax that had been recently filled. He ran a hand through his hair and contemplated the ramifications of his actions.

He glanced up at the picture of his beautiful mother, held within a silver frame, sitting on top. He just wanted to escape everything...he wanted to be with her.

He wiped the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He grabbed the bottle and lifted it to his mouth. "I love you, Mother".

It wasn't clear to him how many pills he swallowed, he only hoped it would be enough to take him quickly.

He sat on the edge of the bed and layed flat back. He placed his hands across his chest and starred up at the ceiling. Within minutes, he felt the rumbing in his stomach and the pounding heart in his chest. His hands started to shake, he could feel the blood rushing through every vein in his body. Soon, his vision became fuzzy, and weakness took over.

The room became darker and darker, then-nothing

[sinninginpurple2-0]

Rite of Passage - Chapter 4

I had this posted previously on my old sin blog but with the new guidelines, I lost easy access to those posts.

This was completely and utterly inspired by an ask sent to @clairelutra and her response to said ask. All credit for the basic idea goes to her.

Buy Me A Coffee?

AO3   <<Chapter 1  <Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5>

Ruse

This was bad. So bad. If she told him her identity now she’d regret it so much in the morning. Possibly even more than she’d regret sleeping with him if he’d actually gone along with it. And this wasn’t even going to be as easy to fight off as her advances because ultimately, she didn’t need him to agree in order to just drop her transformation.

“Um,” he said racking his brain for a solution and flailing for several moments before finally coming to an unpleasant conclusion.

He was pretty sure the only chance he had at keeping her in uniform was to negotiate. If she thought she was getting what she wanted, she’d be more open to suggestions. Suggestions like staying transformed and not giving away who she was. Which meant he was going to have to lie about wanting her when she was like this. In all honesty, he thought, he kind of still did want her. But to even pretend that he would follow through with it…this was so wrong.

He pulled his hand away suddenly when he felt her lick his gloved fingers and the spike of arousal that it flared helped him to channel his inner actor. He took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, “I give. I admit it. I do want you.”

“Really?” she asked a flushed smile lighting up her face, “So, does this mean you’ll help me out?”

“Um, y-yeah. Just…let’s work up to it first. As you and me. No civilian selves yet.”

“Huh,” she said, tilting her head at him, “Why?”

“Because…when we find out who we are, it-it could be a big deal and it would distract us. But if, um, we leave that part right till last, we…uh, we’ll still be…in the mood?”

He watched her as she seemed to consider his proposal. In his desperation, he swore he could feel drops of sweat rolling down out of his hair and trailing down his forehead. He wiped his hands on his legs even though he knew logically that wouldn’t blot off his sweaty palms through his suit.

“Yeah, okay,” she said in an upbeat voice after what felt like an age to her partner. Chat let out a long breath of air he didn’t realise he’d been holding onto while he waited. Just as he was starting to feel relieved she rocked upwards onto her toes to try and press a kiss to his mouth and Chat moved away just enough that she didn’t quite reach.

“U-Uh,” he stammered, “why don’t you go lie down and get comfortable and I’m just gonna…um…go use the bathroom.

Ladybug’s face scrunched up in undisguised annoyance and she suddenly looked ready to smack him upside the head.

“I’m just gonna detransform and get freshened up a bit - so we don’t have to stop later,” he added quickly as she opened her mouth to protest, “I wasn’t expecting this, remember.” He bit his lip nervously.

“'k,” she said with a crooked smile before winking at him. She turned towards the bed and just as Chat let down his guard and began to relax she whipped back around and pressed her mouth against his sloppily. He felt her hands grab onto either side of his face and he was caught between pulling away or freezing completely and being totally unresponsive. As it turned out, his hesitation made the decision for him when he still hadn’t managed to react by the time the heroine drew back from him. She pulled away just enough to drop a last chaste kiss against his lips before standing back again and smirking.

Mute and wide-eyed, he watched as she padded over to the bed and leaned back against the pillows, propping herself up on her elbows and bending one knee seductively.

“I-I might, uh be a while,” he croaked, backing towards the bathroom, his arm remaining outstretched as if trying to discourage a wild animal from attacking, “Please just…wait there.”

When she made no attempt to follow him, Chat slipped into the bathroom and closed the door, flipping the lock shut immediately. And that’s when his entire body sunk to the cool tile floor, utterly exhausted from his efforts.

This girl was going to be the death of him. Possibly a little death. He groaned and rolled onto his side, body curved into a large ‘C’ shape.

After about ten minutes of lying against the tiles and begging the flush in his skin to abate, Chat felt he had finally calmed down enough to catch his breath and start formulating a plan. He got up slowly and leaned over the sink, looking at his own worn reflection in the mirror above it as he did so.

Okay. Okay…Okay.

Okay, so maybe if he took too long she’d get bored waiting for him and she’d change her mind? Unlikely.

Well, maybe she’d drink the coffee he’d made earlier and sober up enough to change her mind? More likely - but still a quite a long-shot.

Maybe…maybe she’d fall asleep.

Bingo. We have a winner.

He realised if he could just stay quiet enough for a while and hope she did as he’d asked, she’d doze off where she lay and he could just wait out the night on the couch in the little living area until she was back in her right mind once again.

He splashed water on his face and patted it dry with the towel hanging on the heating rack. The rack had been switched off due to the fact the room was supposed to be out of use but Chat found he relished the cool fabric as it soothed his frayed nerves.

Finally, after a further thirty minutes of silent panic, Chat snuck the door open a crack and spotted his Lady laying out on the hotel bed. Luckily for him, she was on her side and clearly in a deep sleep. One of her arms was outstretched across the bed at a slightly awkward angle and the other was flung across her forehead, her pigtails dishevelled and hair sticking to her face. Her mouth hung open and she was drooling slightly, probably from dehydration.

Chat had never felt more relieved in all his life.

Buy Me A Coffee?

[padasteph-nie]

The Fourth Wall

CHAPTER FOUR: Flannel Shirts for Everyone

Characters: Stephanie (OC), Sam Winchester, and Dean Winchester

Pairing: None. (Shipper!Dean for Sam x Stephanie)

Word Count: 2,462

Warnings: Alcohol aftermath. Memory gap (due to alcohol, obviously). Hints towards sex. Harassing-like teasing. Embarrassment. 

A/N: Chapter Four! I hope you guys are loving this as much as I do! If you are, please like, reblog, and/or send feedback! <3

The Fourth Wall - Masterlist

Stephanie’s Point of View:

        When I finally woke up, late the next morning, I realized how long it had been since I had actually gotten drunk. I tried to sit up, but my head was pounding and my body felt like it had doubled in weight. I groaned under my breath and laid back down. After holding my head for a few moments, I peeked open one eye to look at the alarm clock on my night stand. 10:43 A.M. “Jesus.” I whispered out loud. After a few seconds, it hit me, my alarm clock was accompanied by a glass of water and an aspirin. I rubbed my eyes, sat up slowly, and took in my hangover cure of a breakfast. I drank the entire glass of water the second it hit my tongue. I was so dehydrated, I couldn’t hold back. I set the glass down with a loud ‘clank’ and a sigh.

        When I stood up I was surprised to see that, at some point, I had managed to put on pajamas last night. Shrugging it off, I walked around the bed, heading to the bathroom. Before I could make it to the door, I tripped over something, and fell into the dresser. The corner of a protruding drawer caught my arm on the way down. I turned to view the scrape, sucking air in through my teeth at the pain. It broke skin, but barely bled. Then I turned my attention to the item that was the cause of the fall. I stared at it, a shirt, laying on the floor. Instantly my heart sank. “No...,” I gasped to myself. I stood up to examine it, picking it up between my thumb and forefinger, like it was contaminated or something. It was a flannel, which was very common around this place. Hell, even I wore one on occasion. But I happened to know that, this particular flannel, was the one Sam was wearing last night.

        Suddenly the memory of last night’s chat with Dean became clear in my mind. I strained to try to remember anything from after our chat, but it was gone. I sat down on the edge of my bed, once again floored by the ‘issue’ Dean had brought to light.

        ‘Do I like Sam? I mean, I did happen to realize this was his flannel. I was obviously paying attention to what he was wearing. Does that count? It is in my room, laying on my floor.’ My thoughts were spinning,  ‘Oh God. What have I done?’

        My train of thought crashed on site, right there. I touched my hand to my forehead and looked down at my lap. I was wearing my booty shorts, which I NEVER wear when either of the guys are home. I’m just not comfortable with myself. I pondered on that for a second, then I moved on to my top. Tank top. An undershirt, or beater to be exact. “Wait… I don’t even own one of these.” I said out loud to myself. I fell backwards onto the bed, fearing what information I was going to have to face when I brought myself to leave this room.

        I got dressed, and then I folded the beater and flannel. I straightened my posture and prepared myself to face the day. It was surprisingly silent in the hallway. When I passed Sam’s room, the door was open, bed made and everything. I sighed at the rush of nervousness that came just knowing he was awake. I was going to the kitchen, which means I wasn’t going to pass Dean’s room. But I could see that his door was shut, which only happened when he was in there. I assumed he was still asleep. I walked into the kitchen, clothes folded neatly in my hand.

        “Hey beautiful!” Sam’s perky morning voice rang through.

        It wasn’t unlike Sam to call a female friend beautiful, but this time it made me blush, “Hey. Uh… I think these are yours.” I felt my face turn red as I handed the clothes over.

        “Oh, yeah! Thanks.” He took them and sat them on the table without switching out of his perkiness. He wasn’t fazed at all. I joined the clothes and say down, slowly, at kitchen table. I sat there just watching him bounce around in his grand mood. “Did you get the water and the aspirin I left you?”

        I became even more embarrassed just thinking of him coming into my room while I was sleeping. But then I remembered the man’s clothes were on my floor and on my body, so I guess he was entitled now? “Um… yeah. Thanks.” I sighed after I finished my bland response, because I knew it gave away my nervousness.

        He turned to me, “hey, you okay?” He put down the rag he was using to wipe the counter, and then came and pulled a chair facing me. “If you’re not, you can tell me. When we talked last night, you seemed to be okay, but then we drank. So, if you still aren’t okay after all that...” Sam gave me a worried look.

        He was putting way too much thought into this, “No. It’s not that, I’m fine with all that.”

        “Then what is it?” He pleaded. But before I could answer, Dean walked in.

        “You two lovebirds get an early start this morning?” Dean said smugly, leaning against the counter with his arms folded and smiling at us.

        Sam and I spoke simultaneously;

        “Dean…”

        “No?!”

        Sam looked at me, like ‘no’ was a weird answer. But then turned his attention back to Dean, “dude, no jokes. She’s having a rough morning.”

        “Sam!” I rolled my eyes and looked at Dean, waiting for his usual snarky remark.

        It didn’t come, “what’s going on Stephanie, did you read more of that book?” Dean’s face was serious now.

        ‘Way to kill the mood, Stephanie’ I thought to myself, “no. It’s nothing. Just… I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened after we started drinking.” I finally admitted.

        “Well of course not,” Dean laughed, “you drank like a damn fish!”

        “You’re upset because you can’t remember last night?” Sam never turned to look at Dean, he just kept staring, right into my soul.

        “Yes, I feel bad because I don’t remember.” I looked sadly at him, trying to apologize without words.

        “And that is why you’re upset?” Sam seemed confused.

        What did he want from me, obviously I was admitting that I couldn’t remember what we did that entitled me to wear his clothes. “Well… yeah.”

        “Sweetheart, be glad.” Dean said, pouring himself some coffee at this point.

        “Why?” The question unwillingly rolled off my tongue.

        “You get crazy when you drink!” He laughed.

        Sam smiled and nodded, “it was pretty fun…,” I stared at him until he continued, “Dean’s right, though. You definitely got crazy.”

        They were smiling at each other and it was making me uncomfortable. “Will someone please enlighten me?!” Irritation and panic were in my voice, “I don’t really like to be left out in the dark when it’s me we are talking about here.”

        Dean’s sarcasm didn’t change at my tone, “Let’s start with this, did you sleep good last night? Like, were you comfortable in those clothes?”

        Sam laughed and my face felt like it had caught on fire. “What do you mean?”

        “You seriously don’t remember!?” Dean begged.

        “NO! OKAY?!” I yelled, “NOW IF YOU WOULD PLEASE TELL ME, BECAUSE I WOKE UP WEARING SAM’S UNDERSHIRT AND I TRIPPED OVER HIS FLANNEL ON MY FLOOR, AND I DON’T KNOW HOW THEY GOT THERE SO I’M KINDA FREAKING OUT!” The two of them stared at me for a second, until Dean bursted and started doubling over in laughter. Sam’s face stayed straight as he watched me look between him and Dean, trying to make sense of what’s going on. When I realized Sam wasn’t going to talk I tried to reason with Dean, “please, stop laughing. This isn’t funny.”

        “Oh,” Dean caught his breath and slowed his laugh, “but it is.”

        “Dean, stop. She’s obviously extremely embarrassed.” Sam tried to stick up for me, looking equally embarrassed.

        “And so are you!” Dean pointed at Sam and began cackling again.

        “I am not. Why would I be embarrassed?” He defended himself.

        Dean didn’t respond and instead just gave him a sarcastic bitch-face, then turned to me, “So what do you think happened last night?” He sneered.

        “Dean, stop!” Sam repeated. He decided to tell me before things got worse, “you were laughing and accusing Dean and I of having the same wardrobe. So, you went into Dean’s room to try to find something that wasn’t a flannel or a button up shirt. You found his undershirts and screamed through the bunker that you were wrong, it wasn’t just flannels and button up shirts. You came out wearing one of his undershirts, laughing that it was the only thing you could find.” Sam smiled at the memory. “You told him he wasn’t getting his shirt back because you were comfortable and then you said you were going to your room to put your pajamas on. You came back with some shorts on, still wearing Dean’s undershirt.” I looked at Dean and I could see the plot thicken in his eyes. Sam continued, “it wasn’t long before you said you were cold, so I gave you my shirt because I had a t-shirt on underneath.”

        Sam waited for my response. I clenched my jaw and gave a threatening look to Dean, I knew he was going to try to get something else to come out of this conversation. I looked back to Sam, the previous red tone draining from my cheeks, and darkening his. By now my face fading into a white-green color. I basically just made a public assumption that we had slept together, “Oh,” was all I could say.

        “Awkward.” Dean teased. “So, we now know what you think you’d do if you’re drunk. Guess I didn’t win this one Sammy.”

        “Seriously, man? You have no sympathy.” He shook his head.

        Dean raised his hands, coffee cup in one, “permission to speak?” He paused and held the evil stare I was giving him.

        “Well we know you aren’t one to keep your mouth shut.” Sam turned to face him properly. “So go ahead.”

        “The REAL question is…” Dean paused for effect, staring at me. Then he blinked and slowly turned his gaze to Sam, “Why were you so embarrassed? You were awfully quiet when she basically said she thought you guys slept together.”

        Dean stared him down. We both watched as Sam sat back in his seat, and then sat forward again. “Because I felt bad that she was in an awkward position.” He finally delivered after what seemed like the longest few seconds of my life.

        “Oh, yeah that makes sense,” Dean nodded, “because, surely, you wouldn’t find it awkward to sleep with Stephanie.” He pressed his coffee cup to his mouth and watched Sam squirm for an answer.

        “Well, no. I mean, yes.” Sam sighed and gathered his thoughts, “I mean, she is a desirable person. Not that I’ve thought about it.” He looked at me, fear in his eyes, and then back to Dean. “I know what you’re doing. And I’m not playing your game.” He got up from the table and went to the fridge and pretended to rummage for something.

        “What game? I just asked a simple question!” Dean looked at me and winked and then jerked his head in Sam’s direction.

        “No. You’re trying to get me to say I like her, or something.” His reply was muffled by the fridge walls.

        Dean’s eyes opened wide at me and his mouth turned down in sarcasm, “Well, do you?”

        Sam froze, still hidden by the fridge. He backed out and closed it and started looking through the cabinets. “Do I what?”

        “Do you like her?” Dean asked plainly.

        We watched as Sam shoved an entire protein bar in his mouth. “She’s cool. What’s not to like. We get along, right?” He looked to me, panic across his entire being.

        “Yeah, I mean we get along for two people living in the same place.” I replied with Dean’s simple façade. Sam nodded and looked at Dean, eyes begging him to let that be a good enough answer.

        Dean wasn’t ready to let it go, “okay, but-“

        “I was actually about to go for a run, sorry to bail on you guys.” Sam guzzled a glass of water and walked out of the kitchen as fast as he could without running.

        I shook my head at Dean, “you’re horrible.”

        Dean laughed, “you did all my dirty work, I just called it like I seen it.”

        “Well you didn’t get your answer.” I stood up and pushed my chair in.

        Dean took a quick step in my direction, “you’re joking, right? That man fell all over himself trying to avoid answering that question directly,” He looked at me, dumbfounded, “he couldn’t say he didn’t like you. You had to have seen that!”

        “It looked bad, but I don’t know. Maybe it just made him uncomfortable.” I shrugged it off.

        “OH, COME ON!” Dean yelled, “of course he was uncomfortable! Because he was embarrassed that you were almost about to find out he has feelings for you.” Dean eyed a box of donuts on the table and grabbed one, shoving half of it in his mouth at once, “mark my words kid. You just wait.”

        I laughed and shook my head, “I’m going to go read.”

        Dean just shook his head and let me leave. I was smiling to myself as I turned the corner.  As I was about to pass Sam’s room, he came flying out, knocking me to the ground. “I’m so sorry!” He basically fell over himself trying to help me up before he could even catch his own balance properly.

        “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” I brushed myself off.

        We both stood, awkwardly for a second, “You hurt?” Sam smiled at me.

        I gave him a small smile, not opening my mouth, and I met his eyes. Before I could answer him, Dean’s voice boomed from behind me, “GET A ROOM! OR AT LEAST PICK SOMEONE ELSE’S WARDROBE, FLANNEL DOESN’T BRING OUT YOUR EYES LIKE SAM LIKES.”

        Sam rolled his eyes and I turned to Dean, who was walking in the opposite direction to his room. He gave us a cheeky grin and kept going. “Sorry about him.” Sam tried to brush it off.

        “It’s okay, I think we were both equally embarrassed.” I noted. Sam nodded in agreement. Before he could speak again I said, “enjoy your run!” and patted him on the shoulder.

        “Oh, yeah. Thanks!” He replied and he swiftly walked out of sight.

@dstrehlo

@vampirebunni

@lefthologramdeer

@fluffy-metal-kitten

[ec-sanderssides]

Come Find Me VII

It’s here! Also heads up, the advice in this chapter is real, so if ever do go without food for a while, you should follow it. I’ll probably need it soon ironically enough, because it is officially too hot to keep anything down, so I’m living off liquids and the occasional fruit. Also @fallingineternity​ @parsnipit​

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VIII

Anxiety buried his head in his hands. And here he’d though this week couldn’t get any worse. But no.

The thing was, finding out that the others didn’t care had hurt, but had not been entirely unexpected. He’d just never wanted to admit it to himself before. So despite the pain this little experiment had caused, Anxiety would have been able to deal with it and let things go back to normal. And chances were, the others would have never noticed a thing.

But now, just when he had managed to accept that he was on his own, that he wasn’t the kind of person people wanted to be around, Prince had to come in. And now he was going to have to deal with all his bullshit guilt and pity, because while the other side may have hated him, but Anxiety knew that his hero complex wouldn’t let him leave Anxiety alone either, not when he thought Anxiety was in distress. It was the exact same attitude Prince got when he saw anyone he thought needed help.

Although, Anxiety really, really wished that for once Prince could leave off with all his heroic crap, because having him try and “help” Anxiety out of uncomfortable obligation was actually worse than the others not noticing him disappear for a week.

Still, at least it wouldn’t last long. A few days, heck maybe even just one, and Prince would remember just how much he hated being around Anxiety, and he’d give up. Till then, Anxiety might as well accept some of his help, like the soup.

Anxiety hated to admit it, but he had really screwed up on the whole not eating thing. Sure, this was hardly the first time he’d skipped meals, but he’d never skipped so many before. And if Prince knew how to help him recover from his mistake, then fine, Anxiety would let him help. Then Prince would feel appropriately heroic and leave, and Anxiety would go back to being forgotten.

Anxiety reached for the glass of water by his bedside, taking small sips until he’d drank the entire thing. He set it back on the bedside table. While he still felt like crap, his headache had eased up slightly.

He stifled a yawn. Despite having spent most of the last week sleeping, he still felt exhausted. Actually he felt more exhausted than when he’d last fallen asleep. Anxiety let his eyes close. What the hell, he was tired and it wasn’t like there was any point in getting up. He might as well sleep

When Anxiety woke up, it was to a cool sensation on his forehead. He squinted up as he reluctantly forced his eyelids to open. Prince was sitting next to him wiping down his forehead with a damp cloth.

“…the hell?” he muttered, only half awake.

“Your skin’s rather warm,” Prince explained briskly, “Likely from the dehydration. I brought an entire pitcher of water this time. I thought it would be easier, since until you recover more, walking will be rather difficult. Oh, and I have that soup I mentioned. I told Morality I’d had a craving and simply had to have minestrone soup. You should eat it while it’s still warm.”

Anxiety blinked trying to process the wave of words. Right, okay.

He forced himself upright, shoving away Prince’s hand as he did so. Prince let him without a fight, although he kept staring at Anxiety with a weird kind of intensity. Anxiety tried not to squirm under it.

“So you got minestrone?” he said, pressing his hands to his eyes trying to wake himself up more. God, he still felt tired, like his very bones were exhausted.

“Well, I realized once I reached Morality’s room that I don’t actually know what kinds of soup you like, and while chicken noodle may be an old standby, I also didn’t want Morality to start thinking I was coming down with something. And well, minestrone was the first kind of soup to pop into my head after that. I figured you’d probably be fine with it, correct?”

“Yeah, no, minestrone’s fine,” Anxiety mumbled. It was actually his favorite kind of soup, but he wasn’t going to give Princey the satisfaction of knowing that. He took the bowl and began to sip it carefully.

After a few minutes, he glanced up. Prince was still sitting on his bed.

“Did you want something?” he drawled.

“What do you like to eat?” Prince asked in reply.

Anxiety paused, setting down his spoon. What? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Prince clarified.

“Eating is going to be hard for a short while as your stomach readjusts to having food again, so there’s no point in making it an even worse struggle by making you eat food that you hate. So I’m asking you what you like to give me a better plan for your recovery.”

“I thought this was my recovery?” Anxiety said confused. “I mean, this will get me upright again, and then I can make my own food. Or at the very least go grab the leftovers Morality always leaves me in the fridge.”

“Of course this isn’t enough to fully recover!” Roman spluttered. “You haven’t eaten in a week! Wait, those leftovers were specifically for you?”

“Yeah,” Anxiety dragged out. “Why do you care- you’re the one that’s been eating them.”

“I will endeavor not to do so in the future,” Roman said, actually looking a little contrite. Then he flung his hands out dramatically. “But this is not the point! You can’t just eat one meal then be better, it takes time for you to recover your appetite.  I doubt you’ll even be able to finish the soup. In fact, I imagine you must be feeling rather full right now, don’t you?”

Anxiety scowled down at his soup. There was still half of it left, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat much more. He hated that Roman was right.

Despite Anxiety’s lack of response, Roman was happy to continue on.

“What’s important is not for you to try and gorge yourself the minute you can walk again. Rather, I recommend having smaller meals every few hours or so. Bread would be a good thing to try and eat next. It’s solid food, unlike the soup, but not overly heavy, and the carbs will be good for you. Oh, and while it may still be too heavy for you right now, perhaps tomorrow we could add some peanut butter for protein. Do you like peanut butter?”

“You’ve seen me eat peanut butter” Anxiety said dryly. Dammit, so much for everything being over quickly. Still, he doubted Prince would feel this invested tomorrow. He’d just listen to the stupid diet plan, and work it all out on his own.

“You know,” Prince said thoughtfully, ignoring Anxiety’s last comment. “It’s probably faster just to ask which foods you don’t like.”

Anxiety rolled his eyes, but since he could see Prince staring at him with expectation, he reluctantly replied.

“I don’t like fish, and I’m not really huge vegetable person,” he muttered and then because he could see Prince gearing up for a lecture, he hastened to add. “I mean, they’re fine in things, I just don’t like them on their own. Um, aside from that, I’m not a huge mayonnaise person, but that’s about it.”

Prince nodded briskly.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said. “For now, try and eat a little more if you can. If you can’t, just rest, and be sure to keep drinking the water I brought.”

“So I’m supposed to just stay in bed? All day” Anxiety asked, not at all happy about taking orders from Prince.

“And here I thought you enjoyed spending your days lazing away,” Prince said with some amusement in his voice. “But yes, pushing yourself and expending energy when your body’s running on nothing would be foolish.

“Well then can you at least grab my laptop,” Anxiety said, gesturing towards his desk, irritated that once again Prince had a point.

Prince deposited the device in his lap.

“I’ll be back later,” he said, and then with a hesitant smile. “Perhaps we could watch some Disney movies together?”

“Whatever,” Anxiety snapped, shoving his headphones over his head. Like he cared.

There was short pause, during which Anxiety kept his eyes firmly fixed on his screen. Then there was sigh and the sound of footsteps.

“Remember to drink water,” Prince called out one last time, as he shut the door.

Anxiety rolled his eyes. God this whole heroic act was annoying. He seriously wished that Prince would just go back to normal, instead of acting like he cared. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and Anxiety was no damsel in distress. Prince could go be the hero somewhere else.

[theoddcatlady]

Return From Hell

Personal Notes of V. Torres.

11/12

I have been assigned to the case involving the abduction of Ester Andrews. Ester was a thirty six year old white female who went missing after several suspicious messages to her online writing group. Ending message told them that it was her husband pranking her and that she’d return soon. Her estranged husband Drew Shaw has a history of violence and marital disputes were common between the two of them.

My current theory is that Shaw has kidnapped his wife and forced her to write messages to make it seem everything was fine. We’re in the process of tracking him down at this moment, he was recently employed to a garage in Chicago. Perhaps a bit of a drive, but on record he has threatened his wife with physical violence. Likely he finally decided to exact his revenge.

Going to attempt to question the other members of the writing group over the next few weeks. The only one we’ve confirmed the identity of is Rebecca Clemons, ‘Becca_Bae93’.

12/26

Over the past few weeks there has been no sign of Ester. A few sightings were reported with a woman matching her description, but these turned up to be dead ends or false leads. Shaw was found and brought into questioning, and despite his insistence he had nothing to do with her disappearance, witnesses have come forward with statements saying that Shaw has been swearing revenge on his wife, that ‘she would pay for ruining his reputation with their friends’ and that ‘the bitch deserves anything that happens to her’. There has been also an unregistered gun in his possession. Reportedly it was unfired, but Ester was 5’1’’ and had a small frame. It wouldn’t have taken much to overpower her, and it may have been used just to threaten her.

I’ve spoken with Rebecca and she said that Ester knew that her husband was a threat but didn’t believe he would actually come around to acting on these threats.  He hadn’t come around since he’d left her, and he hadn’t even attempted contact before her disappearance. She insists that this Anonymous Lucifer messenger was someone else and that Ester was in real danger, but going up that path has led nowhere. This ‘Hit From Hell’ was clearly a glitch on the webpage as there’s no such record now.

 2/12

A young woman by the name of Kelsey Noble has come forward as AmiableJinx, one of the other members of the group. She insists that we look into other paths of investigation. She’d been following it via the news and that now we have Shaw in custody for her abduction and likely murder is, and I’m quoting her, ‘a heaping pile of bullshit’. She also says that Shaw is ‘not smart enough to go through these lengths to make her disappear’ and ‘if he wanted her dead he would’ve just broken into her house and shot her’.

She also questioned the location of Ester’s cat, Mittens. I reminded her that Ester said whoever took her had Mittens.

‘Mittens hated Shaw. How was she sitting in his arms?’

In the end, Kelsey was taken into custody for assaulting an officer. Myself, actually. I won’t press charges but she spent overnight in a police cell to cool off. She has an incredible swing, I still have a black eye.

Unfortunately for her, this case is rather open and shut. Wherever Ester is now, I doubt she is alive. The evidence is clear, Shaw is at fault. I pray that he at least admits where he hid the body.

 7/4

It has been three years since I added to these notes. Ester Andrews was never found and I was making sure her husband Shaw was going to be put away for it, for a very long time.

Then Rebecca called 911 with proof that Ester was still alive.

The three remaining members of this writing group are still in contact and were conversing in their old chatroom when Ester’s account logged back in. Although most of the messages were mindless keyboard smashes, four JPG files managed to make it through and the sender claimed they were in hell. Below are the descriptions of the JPGs.

1.       This is the most unclear of the images, we see a blurred person’s face and not much else.

2.       The woman’s face again, less blurry. It is a woman’s face, and her face is twisted in agonizing pain. Her hair is matted with dirt and blood, and she appears to be laying on her stomach.

3.       An attempted photograph of her surroundings, but the room is dark and the photo is distorted. All I can personally make out is a cement floor and several orange lights in the distance. I’m not sure if these are fires or some sort of neon orange light.

4.       The woman’s hands. This photo came through the clearest. Her wrists are bound with appears to be barbed wire and are attached to the keyboard. Her hands are bloodied and it seems something is protruding from her thumbs, likely the spikes she spoke about in conversation.

One thing I can absolutely say at this point is that the face we see is indeed Ester Andrews. Face recognition confirms her identity. I’m floored. Off the record, I feel embarrassed for not listening to these young women sooner. Shaw might have had some form of involvement with this, but he isn’t holding Ester now. And if these photos were taken recently, Ester could still be alive.

The three women were brought in, finally joined by Angie Burnett, ‘AngelWriter999’. Previously I avoided involving her too heavily with the investigation due to the fact she was a minor at the time. Apparently this was the first time the women were in the same room, they embraced each other and were ecstatic to finally meet.  

Questioning them has led to no more leads though. None of them had heard from Ester. Angie asks about the ‘Book of Praise’ but I have no responses.

It’s clear that whoever Ester is held by is sadistic and has some form of delusion, likely attached to a form of Satanism. I doubt he himself is an official ‘Satanist’, but only time will tell.

 8/21

Shaw is dead.

He committed suicide shortly after being released. I’ve only been told about this now. He shot himself in the head, in front of the church he and Ester were married at. In his suicide note he blames every one of us for letting what Ester’s been through for so long by pinning it on him.

Truthfully, he wasn’t wrong. But I’m more concerned about the fact that he said that if we find Ester and she loses her hands, we’ll be held accountable.

We never released that detail. Not even to Shaw. However, after investigation, someone has leaked the photos onto the internet. If this is her kidnapper or a disastrous leak of information, it will still hold us back. We took down the originals but the four photos of ‘Hell’ have been spread everywhere. It feels unlikely at this point that we’ll ever see them fully scrubbed from the internet.

 11/29

Ester is alive. We’ve found her.

At around three AM she turned up in an emergency room in Michigan. Reports say that the Jane Doe stumbled in from the snow, got to the front desk and politely asked for help before she collapsed on the floor. The woman at the front claimed she’d seen a lot of things, including people with clothes hangers hanging out of their eyes and knives still imbedded in their sides, but Jane Doe was possibly one of the worst things she had ever seen. They ran her description through Missing Persons and came up with Ester.

Despite the blizzard conditions I drove the several hours to go and see her.

The amount of injuries inflicted on her were appalling. She was severely dehydrated, and had been tied to the floor since she’d likely gone missing. They had to shave her head given the mats in her hair and her lower half was covered in sores from lying down in her own feces and urine.

But the worst was her hands.

Several fingers had to be amputated and it looks her left hand might entirely have to be removed. Like the picture, they’d been forcefully bound with barbed wire and the thumbs were attached to some form of spike that stabbed them whenever they lifted up too high.

I’m shocked though. The doctors say she looks like she’ll pull through, physically at least. Through sheer force of will she’s survived this. She’s still unconscious, but I’ll be speaking with her when she’s awake.

 11/30

I feel ill.

Ester has awoken a few times, but only briefly and she doesn’t seem to recognize anything around her. She keeps asking for Mittens. I doubt the cat’s still alive if this is how her captor treated a human.

But what’s more disturbing is that Ester’s bank account was reopened sometime last night and over two million dollars was deposited into it.

The bank can’t seem to remember who it was, but that it was a man with a suit and who ‘appreciated’ the work she had done for him. No questions were asked, this man was charismatic to handle this and get out of there.

Clearly this must be her kidnapper. But I doubt that all the money in the world could make what she went through any more worth it.

 1/16

Ester has finally been able to communicate again. Her friends have returned to her side in comfort and to assist.

Her stories are…. Almost unbelievable.

She claims she was literally dragged into hell, and that her job was to write for Lucifer himself a ‘book of praise’. The devil’s own Bible. When she refused, he bound her hands to the computer. When she attempted to fight, he took away Mittens and beat her.

The only thing keeping her going was the fact her friends still believed in her. It gave her the hope to continue to write and that one day she’d be released, once she had finished. She claimed the final product was several hundred thousand words and that she’d soon be receiving a copy.

I’m officially putting this down as her abductor being a delusional madman who took advantage of having complete control of her surroundings. But at the same time, I’m unsure. The Hit from Hell has always nagged at the back of my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever have all the answers.

But Ester is making progress and well, those funds she now has will take care of her for a long time. Rebecca has offered to let Ester live with her and her wife, and Ester has all too gladly accepted. Years of therapy may lessen the damage, but I think the support of her friends will give her the power she needs to recover.

 4/2

I received the Book of Praise.

I’d been enjoying a cup of coffee on my day off when I heard a knock at the door. I had to shoo away my dogs but when I answered it, all was there was a package. Wondering if it was a gift from my mother, I took it inside and opened it.

The cover is… beautiful, if not entirely disturbing. It is full of black and red patterns, and there is a man with the head of a goat sitting on the cover. The author is listed as Ester Andrews.

I’ve only read the first chapter, and I want to vomit.

The words are beautiful and woven together like a tapestry, but this is a tapestry of disaster and chaos. It describes Hell in eloquent terms and that Lucifer is the angel and King of Earth. It’s insanity.

And yet, I’m still drawn to read more. I truly feel there is something evil and wrong about this book, and even knowing the details of the agony that Ester went through to write it, I desperately want to open it again.

But there’s something to shake me from this madness. The dedication.

To My Friends. Have Mercy On My Soul.

Angie, when you read this, run to church and pray for sanctuary. Pray and hope he cannot claim you too.

I flipped to the back and my heart sank.

To be followed by a series of art by Angie Burnett.

I’ve already called the girls.

Angie is missing. And already there is a portrait on her art page of the Devil Himself.

[comfort-blankets]

*Matchup*

Ya'll are seriously the cutest blog💖 I'd like a match up if it's still open! I'm a cuddly pan girl that loves food, boxing, cartoons, puppers/doggos, and witchcraft. Very optimistic and open,I can't stand when people feel unloved or unappreciated.

So sorry for the long wait lovely, but thank you so much for the compliment! I thought about this for a while, and found a match based on the information given, but I also had trouble picking between a few other characters as well.

Take in mind that I did think about Genji, Zenyatta, and Pharah!

Have a nice day my friend <3

@raewillmaketheflowersgrow

I ship you with….

Widowmaker!

I’ve actually never found a nice fit for her before based on how cold she can seem, and although the meetings didn’t start out nicely, she really does care about you earlier than you think. I don’t even know if she realized her emotions when she had them.

It took her a while, so I dearly hope you’re patient.

The sky was a quilt when you first met, and it stayed that way for as long as you could remember whenever you saw her. The fabric of the sky was dark, a few dreary clouds etched in by a white moon. You were lucky enough to catch a spider off of her job.

Despite how she puts it to Ana of being the shell of a woman, people often speak their own truths. No longer the Amélie that she was, brainwashed and used as a weapon. It is understandable her hesitance to let herself feel again, to have a soft spot for someone when all that she knows how to do is pull a trigger.

But not even her gun can bring her the feelings she desires.

There are little pricks of emotion sometimes, but she avoids them. Sometimes the feeling of guilt seems better than emptiness, but the mess of becoming a person again sounds rough, and it’s much easier just to kill and have nothing than too much.

But the right amount of kindness downright confuses her.

Amélie meets you in a Café, having been fully planning on going in and out. One she visited hidden in the corner of town once a week, enough to make her feel normal sometimes. The people who work there are too terrified to make conversation, and for a good cause. The few parents who sit at tables with their small children when the sniper arrives leave, rumors from a small town enough to make you feel like more of a criminal than you already are.

Amélie gets it. She’s terrible and she knows. They can stop rubbing it in her face, as it isn’t their business, and they don’t know how truly horrible she really is anyways.

She tells herself she doesn’t care, but in reality has no idea how to feel.

Maybe it’s because she doesn’t.

The killer grows used to the silence of the cooks in the kitchen, already knowing her order and too chicken to ask if she wants anything else. What does she want? Is this how it will be forever, and wherever she stops? ‘That woman is so cold and nasty that her skin turned blue.’

Something pricks under her skin, but this time Amélie understands it.

Loneliness. Sadness.

She doesn’t need anyone anymore, she isn’t humane. There are no morals to be put in her book. You kill, and the job gets done. You get paid, and then you rest.

The café hires a new waitress. That is you standing there, a uniform of however you decide, with a face showing whatever you want. Whatever you feel, you get to express. You are never neutral, have passions and opinions. Amélie finds jealousy in between the pages of the novel she reads whilst resting in her seat.

Everything she could ever want, a life and an exciting future, looking young and stupidly unafraid.

Why do you spend it trying to speak with a cold woman?

The first few months are rocky, a collection of passive aggressive insults, hoping to scare you away with a sharp accent on her tongue. It flickers like a snake with her words, but her reality is confusion.

How long will it be until I hurt you? Why won’t you leave me alone, listen to the people of your happy little town in your happy little life?

When Amélie finally understands that you won’t leave her be, the cold insults stop. Her next move is in avoidance.

The sniper doesn’t speak to you and your cheery conversation starters, and she ignores the prick under her skin when you say you look forward to her visits.

Amélie thought about finding a different café before, but will never admit the fact that she promised herself to come again when you said that to her.

The spider woman begins to explore the menu she never tried, taking your casual recommendations into mind from your previous conversations. She doesn’t answer them, but it is obvious she is listening. She finds herself a little grateful that you don’t point it out after she orders a new drink, a small gleam in your eye.

She finds a new emotion under the dust, nails scraping at the dirt around it.

And she figures out that she is terrified of the friendly way you gaze at her.

The light really does point out everything, doesn’t it?

She adds the feeling to her novel of life anyways, writing shaky and unlike her usual perfect cursive.

Amélie finally answers to your greetings, talks back a little bit. For the first time she isn’t rude, but her facial expression never changes. Most would take it personally, but even when she somehow manages to make you laugh her lips never curve. She wishes for once that she had the ability to enjoy laughing, even if it was just to see you flourish in this moment. The barrier between feeling nothing and having small doses of emotion blurs, and Amélie can hear the voice in the back of her mind telling her to shut these interactions down slowly be drowned out by the wonderful high of speaking to someone again.

You mention wanting to travel, and she states that there’s a nice store out of town you could be interested in. In return, you tell her about a nail salon you heard had good reviews.

When the sniper leaves for 2 weeks to finish up a job, she comes back to see an optimistic smile. Having someone say they missed you while they were gone has never felt so nice. Amélie eats up the attention without noticing, and says that she ‘somehow found something odd missing’ while she was gone. It was the closest thing to a compliment that she could manage, but it seemed more than enough for you.

Amélie brings back a souvenir for you, something she saw at an odd looking store in a dreary town. The sharp eyes of a spider look for things that she didn’t realize she needed, catching the name of the place after her scope finishes a job. You mentioned liking witchcraft, and drinks the look you give her when you open the little present. She forgets to tell you to not get used to it.

She doesn’t want to.

After all, the only reason why she paid for it was because she couldn’t quite remember how to wrap presents correctly.

It wasn’t even near holiday, why was she buying things for you? Why did she keep buying them? What was the point of catching you out the door when you finished your shift late at night, and why did she give in to the urge of pulling you so close to her?

Why did you reciprocate her deadly kiss?

A prickle under skin turns into a bucket of water poured over her body at her realization. How foolish of her to want things when she was who she was, and how terrible of her to make you fall in love with a monster.

A sun is sewed into the sky’s quilt for a few days, but the creator seemed to dislike the design. It is quickly pulled from it’s strings.

Why did she stay with you for a few days?

But most importantly, why did she leave?

Amélie didn’t want them to figure it out. Her emotions, her soft spot. And they never did, because she found herself empty again while you were gone.

While she was gone.

An entire month without you, something odd had turned normal. She wished she could have spoken to you sweetly with her venomous lips before she left.

Her novel reminds her too much of the café and chocolate drinks you recommended, and she leaves it near the bottom of her bag. She hopes that when she returns you will find someone else, but another part of her finds the thought brings an unhealthy pit in her stomach. Being empty has never felt worse.

There is no reason to cry.

The monster sheds tears in it’s quarters, missing something it can never have.

A new mission, a life for another to keep living. Amélie doesn’t look at the names, but recognizes the town. Somewhere outside the one she usually resides at, making her think about moving.

The prickles move over her entire body in disagreement, but she keeps walking.

You were travelling for something to buy at an odd store out of town, and somebody hired her to kill an old grudge. Perhaps they really hated this person and happened to have a lot of money. Or maybe they didn’t care at all, killed for fun with free time. Amélie doesn’t really care about cash anyways since she has enough of it, but it was something to pull her forward.

Food to buy, groceries to be put away. All for one person in a nice apartment. The memory of it is lonely now.

There is no reason to think of home right now.

Amélie has trouble finishing her side of the agreement.

She finds her gun aimed at you from a small, hidden space, glad that nobody is around to see her shaking fingers.

Why doesn’t she look at the names of her victims?

It is her job, her consequence for letting someone close. She has a chance to end this weakness.

There are no prickles to be felt, because everything hits her at once. An emotion to add to the pages of her book, shock. So far she has envy, sadness, terror, happiness, shock, and incredible, terrible, yearning.

A list of things that describe what one is doing:

Holding a quivering finger over a trigger, with a finely done nail from a place someone dear to her recommended.

An eye that keeps coming in and out of focus, dehydrated thing, making water for itself to spill over the table of skin.

A professional that becomes a rookie.

Amélie screams in the back of her mind, and the Widowmaker breaks.

The job is done, but the shot misses.

The noise of a bullet sounds, but it hits nothing. Whether it became one with the Earth or the concrete she didn’t know, because one moment she was perched from her web, an old torn roof, and the next she was pulling you by your arm out of town.

Amélie’s expression shows, and it is murderous.

Protectiveness. Add another page to the novel.

She gives you no time for questions, simply telling you that you are in danger, to come with her immediately. Something in her mind chirps at her that maybe you will agree with her plan, to run away with her and let the spider keep you safe. Your optimism is rubbing on her, and she swipes away the thought as quickly as it came.

You have a right to your anger on her disappearance, and when she is sure that nobody has seen you, she answers every single one of your questions. Honestly. That was a first as well, being so eager to open up to everything.

Her crimes, her terrible mentality, her job. It’s shoved into your head and the Widowmaker speaks so lowly of herself that the venom on her tongue doesn’t seem to ever have been aimed towards you.

She rereads the page covering the topic of shock when you agree with her plan, thinking that you surely would’ve left her.

Amélie sees her tears on your face, why do you feel her pain?

She files the job done, but kills the buyer instead. There will always be people who dislike you, but this way you were safe from another being hired to end you. Someone who was much, much worse than she, probably.

A kind of domesticated life falls over her, something she used to look down upon sickeningly. She doesn’t know how to to feel about it now.

But this time, she actually can.

What did Amélie want with this new life? A new job, a life, a new future?

No.

It all came as a package deal with you, and together you placed her morality where it needed to be. You reminded her that she was always there, no matter if she had changed. Widowmaker and Amélie were the same person, even if it wasn’t how she wanted to be, right in between.

So the spider no longer picked up her gun, and rerouted her life to a new, calm direction.

She finally found her money useful again, running away with the most cheerful woman she’d ever met, and indulging with her those childish activities.

Cartoons? She acts as if she hates them, but is content enough to speak sweet words to you while she plays with your hair, the television running in the background. Later on you have a discussion about a character you like, knowing details not even you noticed.

Her lips are no longer coated in venom, and you have never felt safer with the world’s most accurate sniper behind you.

The quilt in the sky sheds it’s somber colors, a new fabric used to stitch together a new blanket.

A brown dog is etched in at the side.

And when you bring him home, the Widowmaker lets you name him whatever you please.

[nercomancyandbooks]

Kissing death, and loosing my breathe… —- 2016 Beacon Hills A swift nod from his head, “It was me, I killed them…I killed them all, and I’d kill everyone after them. It’s always been me.” Death’s lips curled over his rotten teeth, a single bony finger scrapped the bottom of her chin tilting her face up to him. “It’s been you and me since the beginning, Aaron. It will always be us, but now it’s time for you to go. All the horrible voices in your head, all the people you killed, all the people you saved. You’re nothing now, you’ll die just like everyone else. Rotting in the ground, bugs feeding on your flesh. Unlike everyone else though, you will die alone…No one will mourn you, no one will care that you’re gone. Because you, Aaron Blackburn were the key to the apocalypse. And who could love someone so ugly inside…" The words swallowed Aaron’s soul twisting every inch of happiness she had ever felt into a deep dark hole of guilt. “You won’t be seeing them…You’re family. You’ll stay here as what you claim to being helping and watch all your friend die, because of what you’ve done. You had a choice….and you made the wrong one.” Her heart barely beating she managed to grab the staff from the ripper. Death began to laugh, bending down to her running a skeleton hand over her cheek. “You were so pretty, and although I’m saying so many hurtful things. You know I have been there for you your entire life, I tried to save you. You wouldn’t allow me to help, you were too hard headed and that’s why this must happen.” Aaron’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. She couldn’t hold on much longer, “I’m sorry.” She mumbled into her last breathe.

—- 2017 It’s in my lungs - dirt… it’s in my lungs I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Help me! Help me! Aaron found herself in a shallow grave 7 months after she had attempted to save her friends. After Stiles had returned to Mystic Falls to ask Aaron to come back with him. She had been killed by death - or so she thought. Her spirit roamed the earth - but some how she always woke up in this grave Aaron had been clawing her way out for several weeks. Finally, FINALLY she had reached the surface her dirt covered palms sank into the wet soil pulling her frame up from the earth. Aaron gasp for air throwing herself down onto the grass. She coughed, and coughed… and coughed until she vomited up acid and dirt she had inhaled. Nasty. She thought. How long have I been in there? Where am I? This is NOT Beacon Hills. The blonde could barely stand but some how she had - she had been able to begin walking out of the forest. Tree - each tree looked the same but some how different. The evergreens seemed to last forever, but finally she stumbled upon a washed out gravel road. She slowly but surely she followed it - Aaron body felt different. Almost…stronger her hands seemed to be on fire, but she couldn’t worry about that right now she needed water more than anything. Maybe a shower would be nice. She coughed again, another spell of coughing and vomit arose from her stomach. She was dry heaving at this point unable to control the pull her throat demanded to empty the contents of her belly. Nothing came out, nothing… Aaron collapsed to the ground from dehydration.

"What's it like to die?" The voice echoed repeatedly throughout the necromancer's head. Although she was unconscious her mind wondered relentlessly through the scorched memories in her brain. "Do you remember what it felt like?" A little giggle began to fade into her ear drums. "Do you remember what you did? What he said to you before it went dark, Aaron?" Her brows twitched in frustration, that voice sounded to familiar so…close to her heart. The girl began to twirl around the dark spaces, Aaron's eyes followed the little girl's shadow. "I have a secret, your secret." She flinched as the child laughed once more. "What are you talking about….?" She sang repeatedly over and over again, I have a secret, your secret it's mine. Aaron was getting annoyed, really annoyed to the point she could feel the blood raising to her head, "What the hell is your problem little girl!?" She shouted snapping her hues shut. "You." The small girl grew to adult size, Aaron peeked open her sapphire hues to find a pair of dead silver eyes staring back to her. "We are the same, and it's time you embraced that fact." The doppelganger's icy finger tips wrapped around her arm, Aaron began to jerk back. "Let go of me!" With a slow smile creeped upon the double's face, as her palm melted into Aaron's flesh. "What the hell is happening!?" All at once the doppelganger mashed into Aaron's frame becoming one person.

The blonde shot up, in the middle of the road gasping for air. "It's just a dream." She reassured herself, "or a hallucination." She was still extremely dehydrated, it was possible for her to start imagining things. Clearly she wasn't in her right mind. That's when the footsteps began to rumble the rocky dirt road. Aaron could see the dust began to gather as the footsteps got heavier and louder, was it possible this was in her head too? Or could it be real, could it be someone….something. She almost hoped it was inside her head, Aaron had no real knowledge of what the world had became once she was shoved into the ground. What if it was over run by half decaying dead guys, or worse zombies….

Instead of shouting for help, she decided to play dead… Which was one of the most hilarious things to see, she looked like one of the times Wile E Coyote had died. Her tongue stuck out and all. She peeked an eye open as the figure stepped closer, she shifted her head tilting it slight as his face came more into view. The blur faded to create shapes and facial features. "Scott?" Her brows pulled together in question. "Scott!"