#water heater straps

[hyuny-bunny]

｡⋆˚ hot springs ｡⋆˚｡⋆. HH (ft LK)

part II (under the stars one shot series)

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: after last night, hyunjin decides to surprise with a hot spring! some one on one time with your completely "platonic" not-at-all-horn-dog-friend would be a great way to relax

MNDI 18+: boob play, outdoor sex, unprotected p in v, kissing, groping, cream pie, fem!reader

part i

the morning haze was bad. at first, you thought it surely must've been a dream until you could still feel the remnants of the night before stick to your underwear as you began to shift in your spot. both minho and hyunjin must've already gotten up for the day seeing as you were the only one still in the bed. you reach for your phone on the night stand only to find that it's only 8am. where could they have gone so early? your question was answered when hyunjin walked into the tent with a bowl of fruit and hot tea in hand. while he wasn't a morning person seeing him up this early and much less the smiley, was an unexpected sight.

"morning, sleeping beauty."

"morning, wasn't that your nickname?"

"i think it's much more fitting for you." he hands the bowl of fruit and hot tea to you "here, it's all we have for breakfast right now. apparently we're missing an entire cooler of food so minho and chan left to grab more before we all start to eat each other for survival."

you laugh both at thought and possible reality of it. it's still quite cold out but nearly as bad as last night.

"sleep well?" the question has you choking on the tea, both from the sip and inhalation of air. hyunjin only laughs before hand you a napkin to pat yourself dry.

"i slept just fine, you two are like heaters anyways so staying warm through the night was no problem..." you trail off not wanting to make things awkward at the mention of last night.

"oh, is that all we are now? body's to keep you warm? glad you slept well considering you knocked out like a light after you came all over my hand."

"hyunjin!" you swat a pillow at him, covering your face to hide the rising blush in your face. he laughs at your reaction before pulling your hands into his.

"relax, it's friends helping friends right? i have a surprise for you so get changed." he looks at you with sweet eyes, as much as he loved teasing, he really did care for you deep down. it was just his flirty way to make you as flustered as he could, it did wonders for his ego when it was you. "bring something you can get wet in."

you move to swat at him again.

"I didn't mean it that way ! stop being so horny for a sec, i just meant a swimsuit if you brought one," he says once more while bringing his arms up in defense.

-

it would only be the two of you as the other four opted in to stay watching the camp site for when the chan & minho returned from the store. it was about a 30 minute or so hike along the mountain, add another 15 minutes as hyunjin deemed it necessary to bring his disposable camera, capturing every sight that he wanted to have forever including a few candids of you. the hike was worth the reward once you stopped upon the surprise, a hot spring.

the trees hung low covering the hidden hot spring. it was almost like a cavern carved on the side of the mountain, another steam of water flowing by. the orange and green leaves covered the ground where you stood, moss covering the walls against the rocks that walled in the hot spring. it was truly something straight out of a fantasy book.

"how did you even find this ?!" you asked as you both began settling your things down.

"i do my research. you think i'd agree to camping without finding something mildly relaxing to do?"

"touché." you pulled your clothes in to a neat pile, sweater stacked on top of sweats and thick fluffy socks to put on top. fortunately, you did bring a swimsuit. it was a basic one piece with a v cut and spaghetti straps. it made your boobs look great and complimented your figure. you turn around just in time to see hyunjin pulling his shirt over his head already in swim trucks, it was sickening how hot he looked pulling that shirt off. he smirks at you with a raised eye brow causing you to turn away cleaning your throat.

what was there to be so shy about? you had already jerked him off now and he had returned the favor when he finger banged you. stepping into the hot spring, the water felt amazing in comparison to the cold you had just been standing in seconds before. plunging in to water neck deep you groan out a sigh, never been more thankful to have hot water.

hyunjin stepped in watching all the little movements, the way you threw your head back with eyes closed giving him the perfect view of your chest coming out from the water just enough to see the way your tits we're firmly pressed against the wet suit now. infatuated with the sight, taking mental notes of the way your breast curved across the tops, your nipples ever so slightly poking through the material. the water droplets forming across your skins as his mind danced with the idea of licking it up. wanting to pull down your top enough to relive moments of last night, feeling your tits in his hands and being able to see them in all their glory this time around.

you look at him once more, enjoying being admired under his gaze. you float, drifting around the small body of water taking in the sounds & sights of nature. eventually settling against a ledge of rocks in the water as a makeshift seat, hyunjin settling beside you breathing in the sight of both the hot spring and you. his shoulders brushes against you pulling you out of your daze to find he's already looking down at you.

"want to talk about last night? i certainly do." your eyes almost bulge out when he brings it up.

"what do you want to talk about?..." you look forward fixating on the stream of water flowing ahead.

"did you enjoy it?"

your silent, wanting to very loudly scream out how much you enjoyed it all.

"i did... did you?"

it's his turn to be quite for a moment.

"i did... i wouldn't have minded if it turned into something a little more heated... would you?"

your head whips to meet his eyes, he's staring back into your eyes, eyes darting back and forth your eyes. he searches your face for any discomfort, a sign that would make him stop instead his eyes look down at your lips to find you ever so discreetly licking your bottom lip.

"i wouldn't have minded... i wouldn't mind even now."

his hair is wet, a strand falling forward dripping ever so slightly. his cheeks are tinged with the slightest pink which could either be from this conversation or the heat of this pool. it was the former. you think about leaning forward to kiss him, his lips plumps and pouty. you remember the way they felt against your own, wondering if you'd ever get another chance to feel them the same way you had done so the night before.

that question is answered shortly when hyunjin brings his hand to back of your head to pull you in for heated kiss. just as you remembered, his lips are plush and soft against yours, a complete contrast to way he kisses. your both sliding off the ledge seat, on arm wrapping firmly around your waist as you bring your legs to wrap around his waist. you slide your own hands to his shoulders, raking nails against the skin up into his causing him to groan against the kiss. his hands slide to you waist giving your waist a squeeze before their sliding down your back once more to your ass. he takes another squeeze as he bites down on your lip as you gasp at his sudden braveness. you pull his hair a bit as he finally pulls back from the kiss, his eyes are twinkling with lust when he begins kissing down your jawline to your neck. he grinds into you as he starts kissing and sucking a hickey into spot between your neck and collarbone. he pushes you two up against a wall of the hot spring, hands wandering their way to your chest to grab your tits in his hands. overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips sucking a hickey into your neck, you feel even hotter then before.

you're on cloud 9, hands tugging at his hair as he paws at your chest, feeling the his hard cock pressing snugly against where you need him most. he pushes the straps of your swim suit down and begins kissing down your chest to your tits, massaging one his hand as he firmly grasps the other pinching the nipple gently. he leaves another hickey at the top of your tit. after a few pinches, moans spilling from you, his lips and tongues attach to your nipple. throwing your head back moaning out his name as the nipple hardens in his mouth, he returns the treatment to the other breast. he loves feeling the way you squirm under his touch and the way your nails rake and pull at his hair. hyunjin swiftly pulls you out the hot spring, laying out his towel on the ground like a gentleman to take you right here on the floor of the woods next to this hot spring. he pulls you down to lay on the towel, any thought of someone walking up on you has been suppressed by the neediness that swarms your brain.

"let's find out how this pretty pussy feels wrapped around my cock, baby."

your pulling off the wet bathing suit and he stands to rid himself of the swim trucks. it's easy to see now in daylight how big he is. he sinks back down to his knees tossing your swim suits away, hands running up and down your body while he mutters sweet words of praise against your lips. he would worship at your feet if you gave him the chance. he rubs at your clit to prep you for him, sliding his fingers in between your folds. he kisses you as he slides his middle finger inside, thrusting them in and out. your already wet from his earlier foreplay to your breasts, he was just being thorough now wanting to slide in you with as much ease. he pulls back to watch the way you face contort as he curls his fingers against your sweet spot and digging the heel of his hand perfect against your clit. your hands gripping his shoulders and biceps as he starts to build your orgasm. he pulls out after a few moments, his goal was to make you cum on his cock this time. you watch as he gives himself a few strokes, playing with your lips to align himself against you.

"let me know if you want to stop, i need to hear you say you want this." he looks at you for reassurance as nudges the tip of his cock against you entrance.

"hyunjin, i want this. i need you, please." he grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers as he slides in. you gasp at the feeling, the stretch of his tip already feeling snug against.

he holds your hand as he slowly slides himself all the way in to the hilt, you let out a shakey whine. he's so big, stretching you in a way you haven't felt before. it doesn't help that all you want is to feel him repeatedly slam into you until you can't walk. he kisses your forehead still inside you as you adjust to his size, he slowly pulls out halfway before thrusting back in.

"please, hyun." you cry out while looking up with pleading eyes.

it's all the encouragement he needs to pick up his pace. he brings a hand to your knee to lift it giving him a better angle to go in deeper. the sounds of running water masked your moans and the slapping of skin. he hovers his face above yours, lips just ghosting of yours, your nails leaving long scratches down his back. he's focused on the way your moans get higher in pitch when he lifts your leg, he lifts both legs into a matting pressing giving him the perfect angle to hear you yelp out his name. he's pulled back down to earth when he feels you grabbing his face to kiss him as he picks up speed once more. he's close to cumming but doesn't want to cut things too early with the way it all feels, the wet squelching noises, the way your walls clench and suck him in deeper every thrust.

most importantly, he wants the image of you fucked out on his cock engrained in his mind. he can't seem to focus of anything but the way you kiss him, tongues brushing against each other, the way you seem to suck all the oxygen out of him.

you're head spinning with being consumed by every part of hyunjin clouds your thoughts. the fact that you're out in the middle of the woods fucking next to a hot spring that anyone could walk up on at any moment, seems like a very distant concern. you reach between your body's to rub your clit only to be stopped by hyunjin pulling your hand above your head, his other reaches down. his thumb circling your clit, leaving you completely under his command.

"cum for me baby, cum all over this cock. i'm all yours, use me."

his soft touches to your clit in contrast to his thrust have your orgasm washing over you just moments later. your grip on his bicep, holding for dear life as you shake coming down from your high. he pulls out of you still hard, he flips you onto your stomach. you only have a moment before he's lifting your hips again, sliding his cock between your folds as your grip him tight. hyunjin drapes his entire body around, his finding its way in between your shoulder and neck. he's grunting right into your ear, panting with every thrust. the new position has another orgasm building up much stronger and quicker then the last. the combined weight of hyunjin on top of you like this and the way his body engulfs you has you clenching down on him once more. his thrusts becoming slower, he lets a whimper slip out with your name. you feel the hot spurts of cum shooting inside you, it's enough to push your own orgasm to the brink. you milk his cock for the last drops of cum, clenching as you feel it drip out of you with him still inside. he's out of breath, kissing your cheeks, jaw and shoulder blade as he slowly pulls out of you.

his jaw drops as he watches his cum drip down your pussy, wanting to push the remnants back inside you. instead, he chooses to land a smack to your ass that has you turning around in disbelief as he laughs at your reaction.

"can you stand?"

you scoff at the question, shifting to your knees to stand only to met with bambi legs. he quickly stands up to catch you, holding you against him as you both stand nude in the forrest. he walks you back into the hot spring.

"let's wait till your muscles relax again before we try to walk back."

"you're such a gentleman. taking me to the forrest to fuck me until i can't walk so we have no choice but to bathe together in a hot spring. and they say romance is dead."

he rolls his eyes holding you by the waist, your chest pressed against.

"watch your mouth before i decide round 2 is in the hot spring and you still won't be able to walk."

-

after another hour in the hot spring that led to hyunjin playing with your clit for a third orgasm, he triumphantly got you born dressed for a brisk walk back to the campsite.

as you both came into sight of the tents. you saw the van back in its spot meaning chan and minho were back already. as you approached, everyone seemed to be huddled around the bonfire pit again drinking. chan was the first to ask where you two had been.

"a hot spring-"

"YA WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?!" changbin yells standing up from his seat.

"i wasn't about to take you ALL. it was too small for everyone." hyunjin says as seungmin and jeongin are about to start arguing about wanting to have gone.

"so it was just big enough for two? hm? or did you just want y/n all to yourself?" han teases laughing. they all seem to laugh except hyun, you, and minho. the blush rising once again doesn't help.

hyunjin is about to throw the wet towel until your pulling it back down afraid of exposing han to any of the bodily fluids that haven't seeped into the towel yet.

minho can see the dark hickey forming on your neck. it's not one you had earlier from the night before. you sit down by felix to warm up with the fire as hyunjin heads to the off to change clothes. minho follows suit to the tent, his suspicions are confirmed once he sees the long nail marks adorning hyunjin's back when he pulls his shirt off.

hyunjin is pulling a new shirt on along with a hoodie, he turns to see minho glaring. he only offers him a smug smirk and a pat on the shoulder leaning to whisper in his ear.

"she enjoyed last night a lot more then you think. i don't think she'd mind if you offered her another taste."

-----

a/n: part 3 on sunday/monday !

minho will get his chance... part 4? with a hyunho threesome?

tags:

@tsunderelino @elizalabs3 @meilix @stelle-aka-simp @lunearta @jisuperboard @glitter-z @heeyboooo @yaorzu-blog @captainchrisstan @hyunjinhoexxx @guiltycoco @skzhyunnie @listeningtomusiclol

[dulcibella-dreams]

Tempest.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛈ Makoto Yuki/Minato Arisato X GN reader

Synopsis: The weather is absolutely dismal, and you missed the train.

You could barely see.

The rain peltered the floor, creating a suffocating veil of gloomy mist. All you could do was speed walk through the monochromatic canvas. Soaked to the bone, your hair clung like wet silk to your skin, and you were pretty sure you accidentally ate some of your own rain-soaked strands. The day had started relatively sunnily, so you had no good reason to bring an umbrella. Oh, how you wished you had.

Holding the straps of your schoolbag like a lifeline, you rushed to the monorail's stop. Under the awning, you took a moment of respite to breathe. Your bag hit the ground, and you wrung out your dripping curtain of hair. Realising the weather had made you late, you checked the arrival and departure times. You almost fell to the floor and threw a tantrum when you saw the next train wouldn’t arrive for another hour. You hugged your own body, vehemently plunking down onto the bench. As your teeth chattered and water filtered out of the sides of your shoes, you envied the people who had arrived on time—probably at home with heaters and dry clothes right about now.

Your dreary thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. Someone quickly stepped into the stop, sheltering something in their jacket. Makoto! You definitely hadn’t expected him. He hadn’t realised you were the shivering person just yet, finger combing his drenched hair. You watched as he pulled out his MP3 player from underneath his jacket, while the book that couldn't fit in his bag lay drenched under his arm. Priorities, you supposed. As he turned, his eyes met yours, and they lit up in recognition. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he said. You waved it off as he sat down next to you. Moving in closer, you took the ink-stained workbook out of his hands, cringing at the ink blots on the pages. You closed it and put it in your own bag, having enough space. He gave you a silent look of gratitude.

“I didn’t see you when I left school, so I assumed you’d already gone,” you said sheepishly. You glanced at Makoto, who was adjusting his drenched hair. “If I’d known, I would’ve wanted to walk with you.” He turned toward you, a small smile playing on his lips. “We ended up together anyway, though. I suppose it worked out?”

Makoto carefully placed his MP3 player in his schoolbag. “When does the train come, anyways?” he asked. You almost groaned again. “in an hour...” you replied. He fiddled with his bangs, a soft sigh escaping him. He looked tired, but then again, he always did.

“If the rain settles down, we may as well walk…” he mused, though there seemed to be no sign of the weather calming. The sound of rain hitting the stop was almost deafening. “Unless we want to catch the meanest cold ever, I’d advise against it.” You’d rather sit here for hours than feel the rain seep into your scalp again. Makoto’s hair was even longer when wet. He was currently picking at the corner of his mouth, removing the hair that had found its way through his lips without invitation.

“Not like Mitsuru would let us skip school if we had a cold, anyways.” He mumbled.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t she deem it ‘a danger to the student body’?” This made him laugh softly. It was a very gratifying sound, coming from a boy who usually remained expressionless. Though it warmed you up, it didn’t quite fix your waterlogged clothes. As the wind picked up, you heard the rumble of thunder. You were increasingly uneasy, watching the thin trees sway. You didn’t like storms. Suddenly, you felt the intense need to be indoors. You succeeded in suppressing your rising panic, though it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You alright?” Makoto tilted his head slightly, gauging you. You were going to shake your head and say ‘it’s fine,’ but something about his nature made it easy to open up. “I just…I really don’t like weather like this. It puts me on edge.”

Makoto looked at you for a quiet moment before reaching into his bag. Pulling out his music player, he offered his headphones to you. “…Do you want to listen with me?”

You sensed Makoto’s intention—to provide you with a distraction. It was…sweet. Absurdly so. It had been a while since someone had done something so considerate for you. Your cheeks felt warm. “Yeah, sure!” As the music played, you tried to lose yourself in its melody, separating each instrument from the beat. You started to feel less troubled.

But when your anxious mind coerced you to fix your gaze at the weather, his fingers found your face. Gently, he turned your gaze downward, and you watched as he took your hand in his. His touch radiated warmth, a stark contrast to your frozen skin. You reveled in his velvety hands, well-kept with strong, healthy nails. Makoto wasn’t accustomed to intimacy; his parents' passing had denied him such simple comforts. This had inevitably rendered him touch-starved. He understood that you sought solace in this connection— he enjoyed it just as much as you did, if not more.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the train finally arrived. As you both stood—muttering words like 'finally' and 'about time—he never released your hand. Looking into his eyes, that warm, fond feeling overtook you again.

"What would I do without you, Makoto?"

[octopiys]

II. two turtle doves

Wordcount: 7.2k IM SO SORRY THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

Pairing(s): eventual Soap/Ghost, Price/Nikolai, implied Alejandro/Rodolfo

Warnings: blood/violence, traumatic injury, chronic pain (written by someone with chronic pain), ptsd, hallmark Christmas, description of an animal attack

(A/N: hello here's the second part! I hit 400 followers, and then lost a few so I was gonna celebrate but take this as it is! Thank yall so much for the support <3, my requests are still open!!)

Find the masterlist here.

His shoulder bag dropped to the floor as he shuffled his way into the small cabin, the snow picking up outside. Luckily enough, the majority of the place was furnished as Laswell told him it would be, outside of other decorations.

He was sure it was more than he needed, but it didn't quite matter. He limped into the bedroom, flicking on the light. A thin layer of dust had covered the place, another project he'd have to start, and dumped his bag's contents into the drawers. A few photos were set out on the dresser, the counter, and....

That was easier than he expected.

Maybe he should've gone into the store when he was in town.

Dammit.

It was late anyways. He forgot that the night comes sooner in the winter. It's been a while since he's been in a place where the nights were actually cold, where the darkness was one that enveloped you.

He locked the doors, double checked the windows, and then checked them again. All secured.

So he got in the shower.

He couldn't listen to music, not now at least. He had to make sure that he categorized everything, made sure that he had all the sounds processed, all the normalicies compartmentalized.

The warm water made him gasp, then breathe a sigh of relief as it worked out the knots in his shoulders.

He needed to cut his hair.

It was by no means within military regulations anymore, not that he needed it to be. But the normalcy was almost required of him, and his mohawk was growing long beneath his fingers. He hadn't had the chance to cut it since.... however long it had been before he started PT. He ran shampoo through it, almost touching the tip of his shoulders, then allowed himself a few more sparing minutes in the warmth before getting out.

The night was long. His mind was restless as he tossed and turned in his too clean sheets. His bed was too soft, too comfortable, or maybe not enough. By the time he got used to the sounds of the water heater, it turned off, and he was left with the whir of the fan and the space heater.

Helicopter blades.

Laswell was worried, and Roach was scared-

He pushed his covers off and turned off the fan, sighing.

His clock blinked at him, the numbers reading 04:32.

No better way to start the day than early.

He stretched, sitting at the edge of his bed. He didn't bother with his knee brace, he'd put it on before he left. Just had to be a little careful around here.

The linoleum was cold underneath his feet as he padded into the kitchen. There wasn't a coffee pot.

He wondered what the chances were that the bakery was open. If not, he was sure there was a Starbucks somewhere within this town, he'll just finish some reports, then....

He popped a few pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Pain meds, pain meds that didn't work. But it doesn't matter too much to him right now, as he straps his knee brace on and sighs. He shrugs on his windbreaker, since it's the only thing he has outside of the one long sleeved shirt he owned, and headed out.

The streets were cold, no suprise there, but in no way were they dark. The telephone poles were alight with decoration, Christmas lights winding up and down the wood. Every corner didn't go amiss either, bright as almost day.

His breath fogged up the cold air, and he hunched closer into himself to try and conserve heat. No one was out on the streets, not that he had expected there to be, but that meant that nothing was open, either.

Soon enough, the bakery came into view, the LED lights of the SpecBru sign reflecting on parts of the icy pavement. Lights on, Soap could see in the windows from here, the man from yesterday, Kyle, sweeping and looking like he was in the process of opening.

Soap entered quicker than he would've liked to, startling the crap out of the poor baker.

"Hey-! You're- oh. Hey, Johnny boy, early start to the day?" Kyle asked, recovering his broom from the floor where he had thrown it.

Soap groaned and slid into a booth, rubbing his hands together to try and get them warm again. "Too early. Can the day start if it never ended?" He grumbled to no one but himself, and he heard Kyle chuckle.

"I'll take it you need a coffee, then?"

"Bless ye, Kyle."

The rumble of the coffee machines were heard as Kyle powered them on. The dishwasher was currently going, and most of the display case was empty, not having been filled yet in the early hours of the morning.

Kyle was once again wearing his faded blur cap, but this time, he wore a dark blue apron that covered a red and green sweater.

"A fan of the holidays?" Soap asked, leaning forward as he watched the man work.

"You kinda have to be to live here, Johnny. It's like a month long ordeal." Kyle said with a shrug of his shoulders, watching as the machine poured the steaming liquid into a mug. "It's the theme surrounding here. Y'know, we've even got a petting zoo. Except the guy there isn't too much of the 'Santa' type."

Soap grimaced. "He's nae like-"

"Oh God no!" Kyle laughed as the machine spizzled to a stop, and he pulled out the mug, sliding it across the counter to Soap. "Just a hermit, is all. Not much to worry about, but the kids seem to love him."

Soap hummed, taking a large sip of his coffee, practically moaning as the warmth coursed through him. "That's some good shite, Kyle."

The man laughed. "Thanks, mate. I should probably open a store."

Soap chuckled. "Och, speakin' o' stores, ye ken where I can find a warmer jacket?"

Kyle blinked at him.

"Do *you know* where I can find a war-mer jacket?" He tried his best British impression to try and get the words through the man's head.

Kyle stopped whatever he was doing, giggling like a child. "Please- please don't ever do that again, lord jesus- yes, I know where the general store is, I can take you once Alex gets here, he's supposed to help me open-"

As if on cue, the little bell above the door dinged as it opened, a new guy backing in through the door. Somehow, he was balancing a stack of boxes in his arms, unable to see past them, but still muttered a, "coming through!" as he walked by.

Soap saw imminent death as the man, Alex, was heading straight for a stray chair, diving forward to stop him before-

"Oh, shit!" The American said, tipping forward, but Soap grabbed the top two boxes before they fell, unable to save Alex who fell directly into the chair. The ceramics within the box clicked together, but remained largely unbroken as Kyle slid across a table to help him up.

"Ah- are ye alright?" Soap asked, hesitantly, setting the boxes down quickly before turning towards Alex to check him over.

"Yeah yeah, thank you, Gaz-" He batted Kyle away, doing a once over of Soap, then the boxes, before double taking Soap. "Wait a minute. I... don't know you."

Gaz, who was checking inside the boxes to make sure the mugs were still intact, glanced over between the both of them. "Oh, sorry. Alex, this is Johnny, Johnny, this is Alex. Alex is our head barista, and Johnny... just... moved here." Kyle settled on, smoothing his hands over his apron. To Soap, it seemed like suddenly he looked rather nervous.

The head barista, Alex, seemed also relatively put together, even if he almost tripped and died on the way in. His hair was brushed into an almost curled sort of way, his beard neat and trimmed, and a bit of an unruly mustache. Okay, a bit is an understatement, but you get the picture. Less noticeably, the man also had a prosthetic leg, and an impressive sleeve of tattoos, wearing a scarf he swore he'd seen before....

There was an awkward pause that had settled over the room, before Soap cleared his throat and turned away, feeling like he was intruding on something.

"Johnny boy!" Gaz almost shouted, startling the shit out of him. The baker was sin the process of taking off his apron, throwing it behind the counter, grabbing Soap by the arm. "Time to go to the store. Let's- let's go."

The door closed behind them, and through the frosted windows, Soap saw Alex blinking in confusion.

"So... Alex, huh?" Soap mused, zipping up his jacket.

"You shut your goddamned mouth, Johnny." Kyle groaned, hiding his face in his scarf. His face was burning as his cheeks glowed in embarrassment.

"What? Ah'm just sayin', he's easy on the eyes, laddie-"

"He's dating Farah, and they're both my best friends! Besides it's not like- like- oh, forget it." Snow was coming down lightly, melting as it came into contact with the salted pavement. Soap brushed some out of his hair before it froze in his mohawk.

The sun was barely rising despite it being a bit of a decent time into the morning now, a downside of the long winter nights. But the town was slowly waking up, Soap had started seeing more people come outside, other cars join the streets, lights and displays turning on.

Kyle made an abrupt turn into an alleyway, muttering something about a shortcut, and Soap followed without a trace of doubt in his mind, only burning with one question.

"Why do they call ye Gaz?"

He'd heard it before from the woman behind the counter yesterday, and hadn't thought much of it, and Alex's remark had caused him to remember.

"Ah well-" Gaz pulled the brim of his hat down onto his head, muttering something that he couldn't hear.

"Wh-?"

"I blew up an oven and a kid called me Gas! But he- he had a bit of a speech impediment so it came out as 'Gaz' and-" Soap started laughing at the man's defensiveness, and the story. "- And- shut up, Johnny- and everyone just started using it, that's-"

Soap had doubled over in laughter, clutching his aching sides in the cold air. Kyle rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight off a smile.

Soon enough, after both men recovered, they walked into the store. And it's The Store(trademarked!), according to Gaz, because it had anything they ever needed, which was real convenient! .....until he ran out of baking supplies one time and had to close SpecBru until the store got in their next monthly shipment.

It was much warmer in here than outside, despite the buzzing fluorescents above them. Most of the shelves were stocked, a few people with carts pulling around until they found what they needed.

Gaz dragged him to the clothes section first. "You're gonna want more winter clothes than summer clothes for sure, so we'll find you a jacket first. Then we'll move on to pants, and shirts, and then I'll leave you to roam before Alex burns the place down before I get back."

"Comin' from ye, Gaz." Soap teased, and Gaz grumbled a few curses under his breath.

"Still a valid concern."

He was lucky that the military paid him well before his leave. He never had much to spend it on either way, and rarely was it ever for himself. Between clothes, and the groceries that he hasn't even started looking for yet, it was good that he never did. At least ten outfits, and Gaz making fun of him for an hour, later, Soap finally was able to escape and get groceries. Gaz left him on his own, headed out to load his truck with supplies for the week.

Okay, he could do this.

He started worming his way through the aisles, picking off various things like cereals, some canned goods, and a case of water– all imperishables.

Then he stopped.

He'd be living here for a while, as Laswell tried to tell him, as much as he didn't want to believe it. He was sure he'd need other things, like a toothbrush and- oh, and a coffee pot. With coffee. Oh, that sounds so good.

So he made his way to the coffee aisle, which was also the tea, soup, pasta, and spice aisle, planning on beelining right towards the coffee machinery. Quickly glancing over each box, he picked out a little blue machine, turning it around to read about it as he walked back to his cart.

No more than two steps gone had he run into someone, stumbling backwards, a flurry of apologies leaving his mouth as he lowered the box.

"Watch it," growls a gruff voice in a skull patterned sweater.

You know how when you're imprisoned, and you're supposed to find the biggest, meanest looking guy and either beat him up, or befriend him?

This guy would definitely be the pick in the yard.

Soap did a quick once over. Tall and muscled, wearing at least a few layers of clothes, and an odd looking ski mask that barely hid honey colored eyes, the man was downright intimidating, even for him. Hell, he'd been through war, seen the gulags, dealt with experiments, and torture, and corruption, and yet....

Soap wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"Shite, yer just built like a brick chimney are ya? Not surprised ya didn't see me. I'm John MacTavish, but you can call me Johnny if ya want- or if ya want to call me anything else that'd be fine too." His voice wavered with his crumbling suave confidence. He was blowing it as he spoke, but he maintained to hold the fort down as he set the coffee machine in his cart and hurriedly stuck out a hand, just slow enough to hide his eagerness.

The skull patterned man instead glared and reached to grab something off the shelf behind him, brushing over Soap's shoulder to do so.

Yeah, Soap was absolutely dwarfed in comparison.

He smelled like lumber and pine, mixed with something slightly animal, sinewy, like a barn. Not that Soap was, like, paying attention to that at all- or anything-

And then the tension was broken as the man ended his glare to roll his eyes and mutter something akin to "bloody tourists", as he pulled away with a box of tea, honey eyes darting to the sign in the next aisle before walking off.

Soap's face flushed alight with humiliation as he stood, flabbergasted with himself, glancing around the aisle and making eye contact with a lady who also seemed to be hiding her second-hand embarrassment by reaching for too many boxes of pasta.

He needed to find Gaz. Fuck the coffee, he was done shopping, he could come back later, he needed to get out of there before he made anything worse-

"An' then ah just decided ta talk to 'im like a dumb lad who's never seen a real person! After ah hit 'im wit' a coffee pot!" Soap exclaimed frustratedly, as he forcibly hung clothes up in his closet. He had already donned his new boots and coat, feeling much warmer than he has within the previous hours. "Ah mean, sure, ah woulda liked ta get ta know 'im, an'-"

"John, mate, I can't understand a thing you're sayin' when you're all hot and bothered-"

"Ah'm NAE-"

"IF I HAVE TO hear about a fuckin' coffee pot again, I'm gonna throw it against the wall and send you off to get a new one. Take a breather, aight?" Gaz continued as if he hadn't heard about him. "Besides, I've got a pretty good idea of who you're talkin' about. Right miracle he didn't rip your head off after you touched him the first time."

Soap blinked at him, gaping like a fish. "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean, the man's a social recluse. Rarely see him, and half the time I do, it's never longer than ten minutes. I barely get a hello out of him when he comes into SpecBru-"

"He goes into SpecGru?" John eagerly swayed like a teenager learning new gossip on their favorite celebrity.

"-Shush, let me finish. I barely get a hello out of him when he comes into the bakery, but the man's kind. Doesn't quite get on with most people, either, but we see 'im more around the holidays than any other time." Gaz tossed him another shirt, and he caught it, before sticking a hanger through the sleeves, and wiping a hand over his face. "That's the last one, by the way."

Soap thanked him, before an alarm went off on his phone. It jarred him out of his senses for a moment, the newness deciding to-

He hated that goddamn alarm. Up and at em, always. Whether it was paperwork, or deployment, it was always there. Always constant. The coldness of the tile beneath his feet grounded him, soothed the horrid ache in his leg from the ground up. It always got his heart racing when it went off. He'd have to change it when he got back to wherever Laswell was deciding to send him for recovery.

"John, you alright?"

It was the default on his phone. Had to take his goddamn medicine. Always a part of the schedule, so he didn't have to worry about it until suddenly he had no work to do. He lost his schedule. Some things were best left behind.

"Uh- aye, sorry. Can you-" Gaz had his phone in his hands, and Soap was sitting on his bed. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. The alarm was no longer going off. "-hand me the medicine container on the dresser please?"

The deep ache in his knee was beginning to return the longer that he thought about it. He blinked again slowly, taking a deep breath like he was grounding himself. Gaz wordlessly passed him the container, not even sparing a glance to read whatever it said. Tramadol, paracetamol, and another thing he usually forgot. One pill would do for now, while the pain wasn't bad enough to incapacitate him for a second pill.

"As I was saying before," Gaz continued as if he had never stopped, and Soap was thankful. "His name's Simon. Simon Riley. His go to order is usually two eccles cakes and an English breakfast, or an earl grey-"

"Why are ye telling me this?"

"Because I think you're practically in love with this guy, and I'd rather tell you instead of watching you struggle to figure it out. Anyways," He fixed his cap, standing up and leaving to the kitchen to unload the rest of the stuff. Soap followed him out, looking like a lost puppy, begging and sniffling for a crumb of anything Gaz wished to give him.

"Ah'm nae in love wit' 'im! Ah just hit him with a coffee machine!" He exclaimed, storming into the kitchen.

"Right, right, of course. Y'know, he runs the Riley Farm just outside of town. They call themselves a tree farm, but there's a shit ton of other things to do there too. Shame it's just him runnin' it, though." Gaz plugged in the coffee machine. "Got a whole petting zoo and everything."

"Petting zoo? For what, reindeer?" John joked, half disbelief written onto his face that much of anything could live up here, much less be considered 'petting zoo.'

The look of brief confusion on Gaz's face told him that he had hit the nail right on the head. "Nae, you dinnae- reindeer? Really?"

"Well... I mean, it's kind of on brand for us up here." Gaz gestured around, and Soap somehow knew what he meant. A Christmas themed town who's whole shebang is.... yeah, reindeer seemed the least weird out of it all, actually.

It turned out, reindeer was not, in fact, the least weird out of everything he learned.

Gaz had left a few hours ago after everything had been loaded into his little cabin, a place that was slowly coming together as home. Bacon was sizzling in a cast iron on the stove, Soap tired enough to only throw something together.

Skrrtch.

"What the...?" Soap whipped around at the sound behind him. Like scratching on glass, like someone was trying to open a door. He clicked off the burners, reaching for a kitchen knife. "Who's there? Yer at the wrong fuckin' house!"

Skriitchh.

He flipped the knife in his hand, angling the blade away from him. A slight breeze blew through the room, the curtains drifting in front of the glass door. It was dark outside, the early kind of dark that you get in the dead winter. Hair raised on the back of his neck as he heard it again, the slow scratch of something being drawn across glass. He took a couple steps towards the swaying curtains, hand out and-

"Creepin' jesus, fuck-!" Soap shouted after tearing the curtains away to reveal a.. deer? An elk? Whatever it was, it was stuck in the screening of his window, tired pants leaving it limp with exhaustion, it's antlers all tangled in the screen. He breathed an aggravated sigh, pushing the curtains against the wall.

He grabbed his nearest sweater, resting on the dining table and shrugged it on, before clicking in the flashlight on his phone and trudging outside. Pity nipped his heart with the biting cold outside as he stuck his phone in his pocket, the flashlight just peeking out to illuminate the creature.

Its breaths fogged up in the freezing air, small, short puffs of cloud fogging against his window.

"Poor bastard." Grumbled Soap, gently reaching over and patting the deer reassuringly, smoothing over its soft fur. It appeared to be so well kept that Soap could've considered it someone's pet, having escaped its fencing to enjoy the luxury of a screened window. He reached his knife just above the antlers, cutting into the screen and sawing away at the thin metal. The deer huffed, struggling again at the sudden release of pressure and Soap jerked the knife away before the animal could hurt itself any further.

There was a sharp tear in the screen as the deer bucked her head, and Soap muttered out a low curse, taking a step back from the animal. There would be no way to fix it now, not without getting it replaced.

Another tear, and Soap jumped into action, smoothing over its face with soft whispers of reassurance, slowly bringing his knife to cut around what he could.

A beam of light flashed over one of the hills further off his property, followed by some yelling in another language, and Soap's hands started working faster. The deer seemed to have realized that hebwas trying to help, because she lessened the tension in her body like she was trying to help him set her free.

"That's a good lassie, almost done, almost done..." He murmured, cutting through the last bit and snapping to get her attention. She shook her head, grunting and huffing with what he assumed to be appreciation, taking a few wobbly steps.

"We got her over here!" Shouts a deeper voice, thick with an accent and he looked up, startled, to see a man cresting his hill, holding a flashlight. Suddenly blinded by the beam, he doubled back with a wince, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

Another figure joined the one on the hill, and they began making their way down towards him.

"Er- can ah help ye lads?" Soap asked, now on the defensive. The deer huffed against him, pushing her nose into his jacket.

"You found Dasher!" The other man exclaimed, like that explained everything.

"Sorry, what's a-?"

"Dasher!" The man in the hat gestured to the deer, who happily trotted up and pushed her nose into the man's hand.

"Well, seems like the lass found me... More than tha', my window." He gestured to the torn up screen with a grimace. "But ah was able to cut 'er out without too much trouble to 'er."

The first man with the flashlight was currently looking over the deer, quietly scolding it in Spanish. He had shorter black hair, and the beginnings of stubble on his tanned face, a carhart jacket zipped up to his throat.

The other man was older, wore a kind of a fishing hat, along with what Soap would consider an impressive amount of facial hair. It looked slightly similar to Alex, from the bakery, but that was where the similarities ended. Soap noticed he appeared to be doing the same thing as he was, searching for a threat. He recognized the look, after all, he saw the same thing in the mirror every day. A military man.

But the man in the hat spoke first.

"You Laswell's guy?" He barked out the words like they were an order, one that he fought against to comply.

"Aye, I am. Ah take it you're hers as well?" He countered, biting back any attitude that may have leaked the 'I'm not good with authority figures' that he couldbe held in his tone.

"You could say I'm an old friend." The man said, with the same amount of force. Soap had an inkling of a feeling that he would be good friends with this man. "John Price," he said, clicking off the flashlight and sticking out a hand.

"John MacTavish, but you can call me Soap, sir." Soap said with a tip of his head, shaking his hand. It was warm, rough and calloused, the hands of a working man.

"This is my right hand, Alejandro Vargas. He usually monitors the park during the night, but Dasher here seemed to have slipped through." Price continued as the other man, Alejandro, nodded at him.

"You name all the creatures out in yer park?" Soap asked.

"Dasher is more of a, eh... Mascot." Alejandro reasoned, trying to fit a harness over her head, but she was not having it, instead backing up and huffing at him, before retreating back over to Soap.

"Right, a deer for a Christmas town named Dasher. What happened to Rudolph?"

Alejandro bit a laugh. "Too similar to the vet. Besides, I see no red nose."

While Soap was trying to figure out why the vet was a deer named Rudolph, Dasher pressed her nose into the small of his back, nudging him forward.

"She seems to 'ave taken a liking to you." Price grumbled, the thick rasp of his voice giving Soap the idea that the man might smoke a few. "Mind helping us get 'er back to the park? Not a long way from here, promise."

Soap shrugged. He had nothing better to do. If Laswell trusted this guy, then he did too.

He found himself saying that a lot recently.

So, haphazardly, they began steering Dasher up through the hills, the warm lights of his cabin fading off into the distance as Dasher believed this was all again. She pranced around the lot of them, wiggling up to each of them, like she was trying to push them into the snow.

Soon, a barn came into view, and she stopped, her head jolting up, ears pricking as she looked around... like she was looking for a threat.

"Price, eyes up." Alejandro barked quietly, eyes careful and guarded. He pulled something from the belt of his jeans, which Soap immediately realized as a gun. A flash of relief flooded through him, quickly masked by worry.

"What's out here that she could see as a threat?" Soap asked, his voice hushed as he stepped closer to Dasher, figuring he was safer close to her, considering the only weapon he had was a kitchen knife he left on his windowsill.

"Lobos," Alejandro says. "Wolves. Or bears. Or other people."

Soap shivered. "What can-"

"Quiet now," Price hissed, taking a few steps back towards them, carefully surveying the trees around them. "We move together. On me."

You can remove the man from the military, but you can never remove the military from the man.

They hadn't moved ten feet, ushering Dasher along like she was precious cargo on a recon mission, before a scream of agony tore through the air, echoing over from the open windows of the barn.

Yeah. Just like the field.

Alejandro's face went deathly pale as his head whipped around to look. "Rudy!" He shouted, tearing off in the same direction as the scream had come from.

All at once, they snapped into action. Soap dodged for the reindeer, grabbing it by the scruff and tugging her along as Price's heavy footfalls led him through the darkness.

They left the reindeer in the yard, bolting for the large barn doors.

Alejandro was a decent few paces ahead of them, pushing through the doors, turning the corner and disappearing behind it.

It smelled like animals, but well kept ones. Not like a zoo, where the poor creatures are kept in their own filth, ones that weren't cared for. It was clear to him, in this moment, that these animals were very well loved, not just by the owners, but by the town. As he was running, his eyes picked up small drawings, or little cards written in a child's hand on the sides of the stalls where other reindeer were pacing.

At the end of the barn, in one of the very last stalls, was a bit of a gory sight. One of the reindeer had another man pinned to the wall with her antlers, and he was squirming, looking like he was trying his best not to scream. Her antlers went through one of his shoulders, and upon spotting them, his eyes went wide.

"D- Don't hurt her! Dios mio! She's calving, she can't help it!" He shouted at them, his green apron covered in blood. He had a soft nose and kind eyes, his hair was bedraggled, and his face looked to be a few shades paler than it should've been.

"What d'we do then!?" Soap shouted, grabbing Alejandro by the shoulders to pull him back from startling the creature even further.

"Just- ah- don't- we gotta wait for her t-"

A sharp snap filled the air, and everyone froze, hearts hammering in their chests. It sounded like the sickening crunch of a bone breaking, and no one moved for fear of something breaking inside of the poor man.

And then the antlers fell.

The man dropped to his knees as the reindeer backed up, and Price rushed to calm her as Alejandro went to the man's side, muttering in soft Spanish.

Soap joined Price in calming the creature, who seemed agonized. "He said she was calving?" He asked the older man frantically.

"Yeah, that means she's-"

"Having a bairn, ah ken! Let her rest, she's gotta ground herself, we can help 'er from there!" Soap commanded, and Price stepped into act. "Alejandro! How's he doing?"

"I'll be fine, señor! Just- just help Vixen!" The man on the ground said as Alejandro pressed against the wounds in his shoulder.

Vixen. Huh.

Less than a minute past, and Vixen, the reindeer, had lay on the ground, bleating. Her breaths were falling heavy, and Soap slowly crouched down in front of her, palms up to show he wasn't a threat. Gently, he brushed through the fur on top of her head. "That's a good girl, yeah? Just breathe, mama, ye got this, yer doon fine, that's a good lass...." He murmured, and her bleating grew softer.

A gentle silence enveloped the barn. "I need someone ta check ta see if the bairn's comin' out." He said quietly, still stroking Vixen's head.

The man from before pushed Alejandro away, after his shoulder was thoroughly covered enough to staunch the bleeding. "She's almost here." The man spoke quickly, with little shake to his voice. He still had a bit of a Mexican accent, but not as heavy as Alejandro's.

"Aye. Can you gently tug her legs? Very slow, ah dinnae want her ta get stuck." Soap said, before going back to comfort the poor reindeer.

Moments later, tiny bleating filled the air, and the man next to him cheered, holding the small thing before gently balancing it next to its mother and tugging Soap back.

The mother took to her young quickly, licking the rest of the gunk out of its fur, leaving it looking bedraggled and fluffy.

"Got any names, boys?" Price asked, stepping next to them slowly, and crossing his arms as he watched.

The other three men stood there, covered in hay, and blood, and afterbirth, glancing around at one another before Soap spoke up.

"Olive? I mean, ye got that reindeer song going, then it goes like "Olive, the other reindeer," y'know?" He asked, and Alejandro nodded, not having the heart to correct his lyrics.

"Olive-" Price snrked, before covering his mouth, and scratching through his beard. "Yeah, Olive is good."

Soap rubbed his knee.

Price eyed him before clapping his hands together. "Let's head into the house, we can get you lot cleaned up. C'mon, we'll check on em later."

Wordlessly, they followed after him.

Price had a... large house, to say the least. The ranch house was build up near the base of the mountains, shrouded in tall pines that grazed the skies. The lower windows were lit up, and Soap could see people moving about inside.

"Were you a vet, Soap?" Price asked as they walked up the pathways to the house.

"O un medico?" The man, who he now presumed to be 'Rudy' asked, sounding like he was biting back his words. Alejandro stood directly at his side, helping him up the paths, with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Nae, just my basics. My ma had a farm in the highlands where she kept sheep. Figured it couldn't be too different." Soap said with a shrug, wincing as he took another step. His brace was a bit stiff beneath his pants, and the cold nipped his ears, and boy, was he excited to get inside.

"Jack of all trades, then." Alejandro grumbled, pushing open the front door.

The interior of the house was very... campy. But it had a cozy kind of warmth to it, and Soap felt all the tension immediately slip from his bones as he was hit with a wave of exhaustion.

Price took off his bucket hat and hung it by the door, calling out, "We're back! And remember, we have guests, so I hope you're on your best behavior!"

The older man disappeared into the kitchen (that smelled heavenly, by the way) and returned with a tactical bag, unzipping it as he walked. "Let's get you into the dining room, we'll use the light in there to stitch you up." He said firmly, and the three kicked into gear.

Some of the voices they heard towards the livelier parts of the home died down as they left the foyer. Soap didn't want to pry. He really didn't. But some questions were just bubbling up, begging to be asked.

"Ye have kids, Price?" He asked, feeling a strange familiarity between the group he was with. Oh man, did he have things to tell Gaz tomorrow.

Price shot him a cautious look, but relaxed slightly. "I foster." He says simply, and turned to Rudy. "You wanna do this, or should I?"

"Ay coño-" Rudy breathed sharply through his nose, beginning to pull his shirt off, before slapping a hand to his mouth to muffle a cry of pain. Alejandro's hands seized forward in a second, murmuring something softly into the man's ear, before pulling off his shirt.

Soap suddenly felt very out of place, like he was intruding on something much, much more private.

"You better not be getting blood on my dining table, John Price." Said a very distinct, yet very familiar Russian tone.

Soap whirled around, eyes wide as he exclaimed, "Nik?"

And there was Nikolai in a very comfy looking sweater, and a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, suddenly startled at the amount of activity going on in his dining room. From an outsiders perspective, it could've been a horrifying sight: three men covered in blood, hay, and snow, crowding around another guy sitting on the table, with his shirt off, and also covered in blood.

But Nikolai was no regular stranger. Instead, he barked a laugh at their predicament, and turned to Soap. "Did they rope you in too?"

"Wha-? How are ye- do y'know th-?" Soap spluttered before Price sighed loudly, looking between Nikolai, Soap, then to Rudy, and back.

"Can we focus on one thing at a time, please?" Price asked, gesturing to Rudy, who was now trying to fight off a smirk despite being slightly in pain. Alejandro seemed to be making the same face along with him.

"Seemed to have found your way back alright, eh, MacTavish?" Nik asked, stepping into the room and clapping him on the back. Soap seemed to feel slightly relieved at knowing someone else here, but was still extremely confused as to how he fit in. "I hope my meddling husband did not cause trouble for you?"

And it clicked. There we go.

"Nik..." Price mumbled. "Men are bleeding out on your table."

"Okay, okay. Boys, there's a bathroom down the hall, and one right up the stairs to your left. They both have showers. Go clean yourself up, we will take care from here."

Soap didn't even question it, only wanted to get out of his nasty, sticky clothes. He looked to Price, who rolled his eyes and mouthed 'Go', before going back to work on Rodolfo, who gave him a weary smile.

Next thing he knew, he was in a stranger's shower.

Now, this was not the first time he's ended up in a stranger's shower. He had experience. And also, he was tired, and hungry. He wanted to go home and sleep. He wanted... He wasn't really sure what he wanted. The bathroom smelled nice, and the shower felt even nicer, as he washed the grime, blood, and cold away from his skin.

By the time he got out, the mirror was completely fogged up, even the tiles of the floor were warmed from the steam. The liveliness of the house had picked up outside, he heard, and he wrapped himself in a towel. His clothes were missing from the floor, which caused a slight panic, so he grabbed the nearest robe and shrugged it on as he dried out his mohawk.

The laughing and giggling got louder when he stuck his head out from the bathroom. "Oi! Price!" He hissed down the hall, and the laughter disappeared.

Three little heads poked out from behind the corner. They appeared to be young boys, the oldest no more than 8.

The taller one, also presumably the oldest, had short cropped dark hair and bright eyes full of mischief. The one in the middle had fluffy light brown hair, and kinder green eyes. And the youngest one, still enough of a baby face, he appeared to be around five, unable to conceal a wide smile on his face. He was blond with brown eyes that were very hidden in his smile.

"Ye lot! Gimme mah stuff, ye little gremlins!" He hissed, and one by one, the disappeared, running down the hall.

Now usually, it's frowned upon to chase after children in a robe, and really, this felt like a movie locker room situation, where the bullies took his clothes while he was in the showers- lord. He was being bullied by children.

The children were bolting towards the kitchen, a separate garment in each of their hands.

"Git back here-!" He growled at them, slipping on the carpet, before grabbing the corner of the hall and launching himself to try and catch them, and they turned, and-

The kitchen was dead silent, all four adults, and three children staring at him, dressed in only a robe.

"Boys!" Price said firmly, and the children froze, turning to stare at him. "We've talked about this!"

Meanwhile, Alejandro was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand, and failing, horribly. Soap's face was burning as he crossed his arms over himself.

Price stood and the kids bolted, scattering throughout the house. "Nik-! They'll listen to you!"

"You know they will not, мое солнышко." Nik laughed. "Soap, come with me, brother, I'll give you some of John's things."

This was mortifying. Now back in the kitchen, and much more appropriately dressed, he was now avoiding eye contact with the three boys that were still taunting him, just to a much lesser degree.

"Alejandro, where did Rodolfo and Price go?" He asked, over the sizzling of something good on the stove. In their absence, Nik had invited them to stay for dinner, the least he could do when one of his ranch hands got speared by a reindeer.

He learned that the ranch hands called themselves Vaqueros, or Cowboys, which he thought was fitting. They were around for the winters, but went back to a town called Los Almas in the warmer months where they were dearly missed, but they had duty to that town, and everyone understood the call. They were very nice, and the whole place was very homey, something he'd missed in the military.

The boys, he'd learned, were three of the fosters. Their names went from oldest to youngest, Keegan, the tall one who had orchestrated the plan to steal his clothes, then David, who was more shy, but very headstrong (and the one who Kickstart the plan), and finally Logan, the youngest, who was David's biological brother, who gave them away.

They'd had Keegan longest, around three years, and the other two they'd fostered after their father went missing in action. But they were practically inseparable since they had met, which warmed his heart some. He missed his sisters.

"They went out to the barn to check on the little one." Alejandro supplied. "Rudy is.... well, he's usually the vet, but he may be, er, out of commission for a little bit."

"Mandated leave?" Soap wiggled his eyebrows at him and Alejandro rolled his eyes.

"Permiso obligatorio, tu pendejo!" He laughed, waving him off.

There was some commotion towards the front door, and Nik straightened, pulling something out of the oven. "Must be them. Back just in time!" He said happily, and Soap slid out of his seat.

"'M gonnae go see if the bairn's doin' okay!" He said excitedly, before darting out towards the front door.

Fidgeting with the cuff of Price's sweater that he now wore (it was so comfy), he started speaking even before he turned the corner. "Hope the wee one's doin' okay, Price! Ah was gonna ask if ah could come ta check on 'er, but-"

Suddenly he ran into something very firm, and very unmoving, and for half a second he feared he walked into a wall. He took a step back, apologizing, before looking up.

And stared directly into the wide, honey-colored eyes of the stranger he met at the store.

The stranger he now knew as Simon Riley.

Taglist(open): @neonanarchystudios @rai-to209

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[dc-marvel-life]

Love/Hate the Heat

Request: Hmm, heard your requests are open so how about Kara and Diana with a fem! cryokinetic reader? Maybe where its summer and an extreme heat wave is going on and since Kara and Diana are basically human heaters they are suffering with the extra heat because the ac in their home is broken meanwhile reader is just walking around totally unaffected because of her powers so reader puts on as few clothes as possible and lets her girlfriends cuddle into her to cool off.  - By anon 

Pairing: Supergirl x Wonder Woman x reader

Word Count: 569

“Come on, Kara, please fix the damn thing,” Diana says impatiently in front of the thermostat. It is a record-breaking 110 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and the AC broke in the house, so Kara is trying to fix it. Diana hears a loud bang following Kara screaming curse words. Kara comes back from the garage to Diana.

“I am sorry, babe, I can’t fix the AC. I called the repair man, and he said the earliest he can come is tomorrow afternoon,” Kara says, fanning herself with her hands.

“Alright, I can’t take it anymore. We just have to strip right now then,” Diana says, then starts to take off her shirt and pants, followed by Kara doing the same thing. Now Diana and Kara are in the hallway in their bra and underwear.

“Wow, are you two about it get it on without me. Shame on you two” Y/N comes to see what her girlfriends are doing. 

“That is not what is happening right now, Y/N. Why are you in pants and a long sleeve shirt right now?!” Kara says to Y/N.

“You know that my powers always make me cold, and now I am finally not freezing cold. I am finally not wearing a hoodie inside, I thought you guys would be happy,” Y/N says, pouting thinking that she did something wrong.

“No, baby, that is not it. You probably don’t understand because of your powers, but it is extremely hot right now, and we are dying here,” Diana says, then gives Y/N a hug. 

“You are so cold and feel so good right now,” Diana says while hugging you and not letting go. 

“Hey, I want to feel how cold she is” Kara comes over and lets out a reveling sigh. You stare at your two girlfriends, enjoying how cold you are for once. They don’t say that they hate that you are cold all the time, but you know that they do. They always put on socks or extra pairs of clothes to cuddle/hug you, so it felt nice that they wanted you just as you were.

“How about I remove my clothes, and you guys can cuddle with me instead?” you tell Kara and Diana. 

“That’s a great idea!” Diana says they grab your hand, lead you into the bedroom, and strap you off your clothes only in a bra and underwear like them. 

After a couple hours of cuddling and watching tv, you start to feel off a little bit. You look at your skin, and water is coming off of it. Your body is losing the cold and turning into something else.

“Aaaaaa,” you jump up from Kara and Diana. You look over at your girlfriends, who are holding back from laughing. They look at you in concern, “What is happening to me? My body is turning into the water!” you say, wiping off the water on your body.

“Why are you guys laughing at me?! Look at me! I am turning into water!” you say, freaking out.

“Baby, what is happening to your body is called sweating. " You are just hot right now,” Kara says, leading you back into bed.

“So this is what being hot feels like?” you say, and they nod at you.

“Well, I am willing to deal with it for you guys,” you say, smiling at them and continuing to cuddle them. 

[rosemaidenvixen]

Wittebane

Ao3

tw: description of cadavers, canonical levels of Philip Wittebane creepiness

Easing it up as gently as she could, Luz pried open the window a crack, just enough to peek inside. Finding nothing but darkened rooms and silence she slid the window open the rest of the way and crawled in. Dropping soundlessly to the carpet, she turned and reached down to help pull Willow in after her. Two more figures followed Willow and soon all four of them were standing in the dark living room.

Luz pulled out her high beam flashlight, relying on your phone only to drain the battery so you didn’t have it at a critical moment was a rookie mistake, a column of bright white light cutting through the gloom. Willow and Amity grabbing their own flashlights and doing the same “Alright let’s try to find the basement then we can search top to bottom,”

Boscha scowled, she didn’t have a flashlight, just her bat in its case resting on her back with the strap around her shoulder “Remind me why we’re breaking into some old guy’s house again?”

Luz, Willow, and Amity all shared a flat look. They’d never planned on including Boscha on their expedition, but Boscha had found out about their plans at the last minute and threatened to expose them unless they included her.

Amity pulled in a deep breath through her nose and stepped towards Boscha with a look of measured patience on her face “This house belongs to the Wittebane family, when the original owners died they passed it down to their sons, Caleb and Philip Wittebane,”

The four of them moved through the room, guided by the beams of their flashlights, searching for a door that would lead to the basement.

“Apparently they were close growing up, but then Caleb and Philip had a big falling out where Caleb left and never came back, ever since Philip’s been living here by himself,”

“Really? What happened?” Boscha said, clearly curious despite herself.

“The story is that Philip didn’t approve of Caleb’s fiance,” Amity continued “And wasn’t shy about saying so,”

“Over here guys,” Willow spoke up, holding open a door to dark stairs leading down.

Without hesitating they all headed over and started trooping down the stairs, Willow and her flashlight in the lead.

“Ok…” Boscha said slowly, her and Amity bringing up the rear “But then why are we breaking into this Philip guy’s house?”

“Because eleven months ago Caleb and his wife were in a car accident where they both died,” 

“Again, what does that have to do with us?”

“Because less than a week after they died the morgue was broken into and their bodies were stolen,” Luz spoke up this time “They found the wife right away, whoever stole her body just dragged it out to the parking lot and set it on fire, but no one knows what happened to Caleb’s body. The police suspected Philip, but there wasn’t enough evidence to get a warrant,”

Even with the only light coming their flashlights Luz could see Boscha’s face become noticeably paler as they reached the bottom of the stairs “So we’re here to…”

“We came to see if Philip stole Caleb’s body, and to see if we can find it,” Willow concluded.

Boscha’s face was gaunt as they swarmed around the small basement space examining the walls “Well there’s clearly nothing here, water heater, washer and dryer,” she cleared her throat “So let’s just go back upstairs and–”

“Hang on,” Amity cut in “I think I found something,” 

The three of them gathered in around Amity, who was standing in front of a brick wall.

“I think there might be a–”

The wall shifted and swung inward, revealing a door cut out of the section of brick.

No one moved, no one spoke. They’d all agreed to come here but actually finding this was a game changer.

Luz swallowed hard but then stepped forward, flashlight at the ready “Let’s go,”

“Are you serious!?” Boscha hissed “You want to go inside the spooky basement tunnel, oh hell n–”

“We’ve come this far,” Willow stepped up to Luz’s side “I’m seeing this to the end,”

Amity joined them “This could be dangerous, but if I leave now I’m always going to wonder. And if worst comes to worst there are four of us and one of Philip,”

Boscha shut her mouth, face red, but she joined them at the mouth of the tunnel all the same.

They headed down the brick hallway. It was so narrow and twisty they had to go single file, and even with their flashlights they could never see more than a foot in front of them at a time. After a minute they turned a corner and the tunnel opened up into a large room, the flashlight beams bouncing off of metal and glass furniture fillinging, the four of them cautiously spreading out into the space.

The room was rectangle shaped, all four walls brick. Most of the floor was concrete but up against the wall furthest from the door the concrete abruptly dropped away into dirt leaving a bare space against the far wall. A bunch of shelves were lined up haphazardly against one of the side walls, well not really shelves more like bare metal racks loaded with boxes and books, bottles and cans and other seemingly random objects. 

Next to the other side wall, as close as possible to the dirt while still being on the concrete, there was a twin size bed frame with a mattress made up. Crisp beige sheets with hospital corners and a pristine white pillow. A towel, t-shirt, and a pair of shorts folded with stark precision lay on the end of the bed. A metal tub full of water, shimmering in the beam of Luz’s flashlight, sitting on the concrete by the foot. 

The sight, while mundane, was bizarrely out of place, seemingly belonging in a hotel or a dorm room rather than a dingy basement, landing straight in uncanny territory.

Luz shuddered once at the sight then turned away.

She had to focus, they were here to find Caleb’s body, not puzzle over Philip’s weird guest room set up.

As she looked away, she spotted a desk pushed up against the wall right next to the door. Several tables set up with what looked like lab equipment surrounded it. And something else…

“How– how could this Philip guy hide all this down here!?” Boscha said incredulously. 

“I think this is an old bomb shelter,” Willow spoke up “Depending on when it was built it might not even be on the house’s blueprints,”

Luz was only half listening, stepping closer to the desk, spotting several open books on it. The books looked old old, handwritten in a language that Luz didn’t recognize, with several pictures that Luz could only describe as anatomy diagrams, and a series of pictures that looked like someone being buried alive but backwards. Shaking her head, Luz tore her gaze away from the books and continued on, honing in on a soft buzzing sound. Moving between the tables, Luz spotted a minifridge sitting on the floor crammed between two of them, humming with electricity. Crouching down low, Luz reached out and pulled the door op–

Bright light flooded the dark space as she scrambled back with a shriek, sending all the others rushing over.

“What’s wrong Luz!?” Amity called out “What did you…”

Shocked silence settled over them as they spotted the contents of the fridge. Staring and staring like they couldn’t believe their eyes. Which if the others were anything like Luz, they absolutely couldn’t.

Bones. Dirty white wrapped in plastic stacked neatly on the small set of shelves each with their own unique label, but all with the initials ‘CW’ scrawled on them.

CW-Skull

CW-Hand r.

CW-Hand l.

CW-Ribcage

CW-Spine

CW-Femur r.

CW-Femur l.

Seeing something so macabre and gruesome organized with the cold precision of storing leftovers made her stomach turn.

“Oh my god he actually did it,” Boscha whispered “Philip Wittebane stole his brother and skeletonized him!”

“Guys,”

“Oh man this is so messed up,” Luz scooted away from the fridge, still unable to tear her eyes away.

“Guys,”

“And what’s with the bed!?” Amity hissed “This is all so–”

“Guys!”

They all whipped around at the urgency in Willow’s voice. She was standing in the dirt, the beam of her flashlight illuminating a pale branch sticking up out of the ground–

The realization hit Luz like a punch to the gut.

That wasn’t a branch, it was a hand, thin fingers as pale as moonlight poking up out of the dirt.

Amity covered her mouth, smothering a small gasp, from off to the side she could see Boscha turning green. 

Luz couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, heart beat hammering. It was bad enough that Philip had chunks of his brother in a fridge, then he’d just dumped the rest in–

Wait…

Moving slowly, Luz turned back towards the still open fridge, then back towards the dirt plot illuminated by Willow’s flashlight. The fridge. The dirt again.

“Something’s not right here…”

“Yeah no shit!” Boscha hissed “There’s body parts in a fridge and more in the–”

“No, I mean, both of Caleb’s hands are right here,” Luz gestured towards the fridge, bags labeled ‘Hand r.’ and ‘Hand l.’ still sitting there on the top shelf “So that hand in the ground can’t be…” she trailed off but Amity was quick to pick up.

“If…if Caleb’s in the fridge, then who’s buried in the…”

No one said anything, horrified silence settling over the four of them as they stared at the fingers poking up out of the dirt, leaving the whole room as silent as a grave.

Which was why they all heard the thump coming from the narrow hall so clearly.

Luz whipped around, more thumps–

Footsteps

Coming from the hall, her heart shooting up into her throat.

“Over here!” Willow whisper shouted “Behind these shelves,”

The four of them scrambled between the metal racks, angling to conceal themselves behind the boxes and books stacked on them. Cramming into the narrow space and killing their flashlights seconds before the footsteps reached the room, overhead light on the ceiling flashing on. The four of them blinking in the sudden brightness.

Blood rushing in her ears, Luz cautiously peeked around the box on the lowest shelf. 

A man with long ash-blonde hair pulled back–

Philip Wittebane

Stood by the desk just a few feet to the side of the doorway, setting various grocery bags on top of it.

Luz ducked back just as Philip stepped away from the desk, moving towards the dirt section of the room. They had to hang tight, wait for Philip to leave and then make a break for it, just had to make sure he didn’t spo–

“I’ve waited so long for this day,”

Philip’s voice rang out and all thought stopped.

“I’m so excited to meet you,”

Luz’s blood ran cold, completely frozen on the ground, feeling Boscha trembling from where she was pressed into her side, a roaring in her ears as she waited for Philip to step around the shelves and–

A crunch echoed out in the basement, followed shortly by another, then another.

It took a few seconds for Luz to realize that the sound was shovel meeting dirt.

She risked another peek around the box, heartbeat still thrumming. Philip was standing in the dirt, shovel in hand, leisurely digging away.

Wait….was Phililp talking to the dead body buried in his basement? That was seriously messed u–

The fingers poking out of the dirt twitched and her mind went white.

Suddenly she realized the pictures in the book weren’t backwards at all.

Luz watched, heart booming and mouth dry, as Philip set the shovel aside and grasped the fingers, pulling the buried figure up.

She had no idea what she expected for a body a weird old man pulled up out of the dirt in his basement, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this.

It was a boy, around her age, maybe a year or so older, gangly and gawky. Pale skin and long blonde hair smeared with dirt, but between the angle and Philip standing in the way she couldn’t get a clear view of his face.

Releasing his fingers, Philip put a hand on the buried boy’s shoulder, leading him away from the dirt and onto the brick.

“Brace yourself,” Philip spoke “This will be cold,”

There was a sudden splash of water, sputtering and a strangled gasp from an unknown voice, Luz getting a glimpse of rivulets of water running down the concrete to soak into the dirt.

“Come now you’re fine, no need for dramatics,”

Luz still couldn’t see them clearly, but she heard the rustle of fabric, caught glimpses of Philip ruffling a towel through damp blonde hair, of him picking up the shorts and t-shirt from the edge of the cot.

“Wha,” the boy spoke again “Wha hih–”

Philip made shushing noises, the sound making Luz’s skin crawl, and pushed the boy’s shoulder down to seat him on the edge of the cot.

“Wha,” the boy mumbled “What is…”

Philip chuckled “Only minutes old and already starting to speak, you truly are a miracle,”

“Wha…what is…” Philip held a hand to his mouth, silencing him.

“I understand you must be confused, I will try to explain things the best I can,” Philip raised a strand of blonde hair on a single finger “But first something must be done about your hair,”

Philip reached into his pocket and pulled out a hairbrush, seating himself behind the boy on the bed, nudging his shoulder to turn him ever so slightly. Raising the brush to run it through the boy’s hair.

It was just hairbrushing, nothing inherently gross or weird about it. There were a lot more gross and weird things just in this room. But something about the scene in front of her gave Luz the willies.

“I always admired my brother Caleb growing up,” Philip spoke “He was strong and courageous and the best brother I could have asked for, but then he fell into sin and temptation and ended up losing his life because of it,”

A pause of the bristles in pale hair “Fortunately I was able to preserve the best of him and use it to craft a son, you,”

“M– me?” the boy stammered.

“Yes you, I crafted you from the dirt the same as the lord crafted Adam from the dust. I suppose in a way you are my brother’s son, which makes me your uncle,”

“Un…cle?”

Philip chuckled, a sound that could be called warm if it was in any situation besides this one “Yes I’m your uncle Philip, Caleb always said that if he had a son he’d name him Hunter, so that will be your name,”

“Hunter…”

Philip tucked the brush back into his pocket and stood “My brother may have fallen prey to temptation, but I won’t let the same happen to you,”

A click and a metallic clink echoed through the room. 

“No need to worry, this is just until I know I can trust you. Now you must be hungry, I’ll go fetch you some oatmeal,”

Philip turned and walked out of the room.

As soon as he was out of sight Luz felt fingers dig into her shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here before old man Wittebane comes back,” Boscha hissed in her ear.

Moving with a calmness she didn’t feel, Luz slowly stood and peeked around the shelf.

“Luz what are you doing!?” Amity whispered.

“You remember Azura book six, where she broke into the warlock’s cavern?”

Amity gasped “And found the minotaur he’d summoned!”

“Do you have to do this nerd stuff now!” Boscha snarled.

Luz ignored her, cautiously taking a step out from behind the shelves.

All the townspeople told Azura that the warlock’s minotaur was a being of pure evil that served the warlock and terrorized villages on command. But Azura was able to see that the minotaur wasn’t evil, he was just a prisoner of the warlock. And she used her power to set him free.

Stepping fully away from the self, Luz took a deep breath and approached the…boy sitting on the bed.

“Hey….how’s it going?”

She’d never met Caleb Wittebane, but she’d seen pictures of him on the news when the morgue robbery happened. And now that she could see the boy’s face clearly the resemblance between him and Caleb was undeniable. His hooked nose, the shape of his jaw, his tangled blonde hair. Pulled into a low ponytail with a single lock hanging down in his face, perfectly mirroring the graduation photo that the newspaper had printed.

Had Philip styled his hair to look just like his dead brother’s? Because that was all kinds of creepy.

She also saw the metal cuff, wrapped in fabric padding, locked around the boy’s wrist. Connected to a chain that was bolted to the brick wall next to the bed.

“Hi there, my…my name is Luz,”

He stared back at her, face blank “...my name is Hunter,”

She stopped two feet away from him. This close she could see that the resemblance was strong but there were differences as well. Subtle things, magenta eyes, pointed ears. Nothing grotesque, but things that had no place on the human body. The combined effect landed squarely in the uncanny valley.

Stop it Luz he might look strange but that doesn’t make him evil, he still deserves help.

From behind she heard footsteps approach.

“So…Hunter,” Amity spoke up “Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of here,”

Hunter didn’t say anything, just blinked back at her.

Willow took a seat on the cot next to him, gingerly grasping the chain with one hand “We need to get the key before Philip stashes it somewhere we can’t–”

“I’ll get it,”

The three– four of them turned towards Boscha.

“Are you sure?” Luz asked.

Boscha slid her bat out of its case, smacking the end against her palm “Trust me,”

They watched Boscha make her way back down the narrow brick hall, bat in hand, until she vanished from view.

“Are you sin and temptation?”

Luz, Willow, and Amity all simultaneously jumped and snapped their heads in Hunter’s direction, the boy flinching under the force of their combined gazes “Un…uncle Philip said that outside was sin and temptation, so are you…”

Luz glanced at the other girls, the three of them sharing an uncomfortable look.

“Hunter…” Luz took a seat on his other side, making sure to give enough space to not crowd him “I know Ph– your…uncle said that, but I promise you it wasn’t true,”

Hunter just stared at her owlishly.

“Yeah,” Willow spoke up, Hunter’s head swiveling in her direction “There are bad things out there, but there’s plenty of good things to. And staying locked up like this is no way to–”

A crash and a shout and suddenly Boscha was sprinting in out of the hall. Breathing hard and bat clutched in a white knuckled grip, the end smeared with red.

“I got the key but we gotta go now, I knocked Philip out but I’m not sure how long he’ll stay down,”

She tossed the key to Amity, who swiftly leaned in and unlocked the cuff from Hunter's wrist. Allowing Willow to pull him to his feet, the five of them dashing back through the dark tunnel.

“Go go go!” Luz led the way as they sprinted up the basement stairs back into the house proper. Not even bothering with the window, all thoughts of stealth gone now, making a beeline for the front door. Tearing it open the five of them racing out into the night.

Amity outpaced her, dashing into the bushes where they stashed their bikes. Pulling them free from the shrubbery and handing them out before mounting hers.

Luz quickly glanced around at the others, seeing them all mounted on their bikes with Hunter seated on Willow’s handlebars, and pushed off, the four of them pedaling with all their might back up the road.

As they climbed a hill the others quickly outpaced her, Willow taking the lead even with carrying Hunter. Confident that the others were safe, Luz paused at the top of the hill and risked a glance backwards.

Philip Wittebane stood at the edge of the porch, one hand bracing himself against the railing, the other pressed against his temple. Blood spilling out between his fingers and running down his face. 

Blue eyes pierced through the darkness, glaring straight down into her soul with a look of pure hatred.

A violent shudder coursing through her, Luz turned back and started quickly peddling to catch up with the others, the four sets of wheels with five passengers speeding off into the night.

[yikesitskennawrites]

Transitions- Chapter Forty: Talking To Strangers

Series Masterlist

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Pairings: Steven Grant x (platonic) Reader, Marc Spector x (platonic) Reader, Jake Lockley x (platonic) Reader, Layla El-Faouly x (platonic) Reader

—

When the moonlight hits the stained glass windows right, it will reflect onto the blue carpet and cast its pattern onto the ground. But since your first meeting for the support group last month it hasn’t done it until today that is. From where you sat in the small circle, you can see the cast of the blue, yellow, red, and green colors onto the fabric on the floor. It’s been raining for weeks now, almost non-stop and the one day that you are in the basement of the church for your fifth support group meeting, the moon has peeked out long enough from the dark gray clouds in the sky to shine down and hit the window just right. It felt oddly comforting to see the colors and the moonlight shining through when you’ve been associating it with the god your neighbor serves.

You’ve been told that the heater has been running long before you arrived for the meeting today. Yet, the room was chilly and it was causing you to shiver and debate on leaving early enough to go back to Laylas apartment and bundle up in several layers of blankets. You have listened to everyone's stories multiple times, some repeated theirs when new people arrived or just to get it off of their chest again and again to the listening ears. They always seem bitterly relieved when they finish and despite everyone else hearing about the same story for what feels like the millionth time they are still supportive of them and continue to be even after the meeting ends. 

At almost every meeting, Oliver tells everyone about how his ex-wife left him for a younger man who looks like him from his university days and once the meeting does end he offers George a cigarette underneath the awning outside. Cellia gives out her hairstylist phone number whether it's on a gum wrapper from in her purse or by verbally telling people the digits and name. Henry ends up folding the chairs and resting them back against the wall before unplugging the pot of coffee and the pot of hot water from the outlet so he can dump out the remaining. Peter sometimes helps him pack up the cookies and cups while Danielle is speed walking to the exit to get into her fathers car to go home. You usually call Layla as you make your way to the exit and stand out underneath the awning in the pouring rain, clutching the helmet's straps in your hand with your phone pressed against your ear.

The girl who you thought to be fifteen turns out to actually be seventeen and her name is Danielle. She sits next to you at every meeting, because there's this unspoken agreement that everyone has spots that they claimed. Danielle told everyone about how she was blipped and came back to an empty home in Wales and spent about a year trying to find her family before she found them in London. She said that her family changed their numbers for a fresh start because that's what they felt like they needed the most at the time. Danielle lived on the streets for a better part of the year because she didn’t want to get thrown into social services and be forgotten in the system so she toughed out the winters in a women's refuge with most of the other people who lost their homes after coming back. She spent nights underneath the stars during the summer when it was too hot to stay indoors with some other woman who also had the same idea. 

Sometimes she stared up at the bright stars until she was crying because somewhere her family was staring at the same night sky and she felt even further apart from them because of that. Like a vast ocean between her and her dads and baby brother that she might drown in while crossing. Other times, she spent summer nights walking around the city until most of the shops were closed and spent it in the public park on a set of swings or on the merry-go-round with her legs hanging off of the edge of it. She told everyone how her eyes always found the moon whether through bleary eyes filled with tears or clear ones that knew too much at the age of sixteen. 

She told everyone how the moon was like a beacon for her to come home, like it was guiding her home this whole time. You found that funny, you didn’t laugh or show any amusement from her statement but the moon god could care less about a measly teenager wanting to go home when he seems to not want you around. When she did find her two dads and her nine year old brother, she cried and they cried too. Apparently, the dads did try to search for her but they couldn’t come up with anything but the ghost of her. There was this part of her story where they did call the women's refuge in Luton a week after she just left and nobody had a clue of where she went. 

It wasn’t until she ran into a coworker of one of her dads in London who knew who she was because her father had a picture of her on his desk and he carried around a photo of her everywhere he went to ask people if they have seen her. That was how she was found after a year of searching just because of a photograph. She told us how her brother was two when she left and when she came back he was eight and just about her chest height. 

The baby she once carried around her home as a fifteen year old was nine- and now ten since a year has passed after she was found; and she tells us how difficult it is to grasp that she missed about six years of her baby brothers life and he is too big to carry on her hip or put into buggies when they go shopping. She missed his first year of school, his first football game, his first trip to the aquarium, his first crush. She always tells us how there will be other firsts but it’s hard to acknowledge the years she missed. Especially with a child who had no clue who she was except for photographs and home videos that her fathers showed him and stated that she was dead during the blip. It’s hard explaining to a child that the dead can’t come back except for this time. Now he believes that the family's dead pet guinea pig will come back in five years because Danielle did. 

Her fathers immediately put her into a support group and therapy once she came back into their lives. She told everyone how it’s going for her- which is good, better than she expected; and the oddness of being seventeen when her classmates are in their twenties and going to university while she’s making up year ten because she was gone for about six years from her old life. Danielle rarely speaks during the meetings but she tells us how she feels seen and supported by others who experienced the same thing as her or at least something similar to it because everyone has a different story. 

Another person, Peter, told his story only twice since you joined. The first time was the first day you showed up to the meeting and the second time was when he was willing to go into more detail about stuff he kept vague previously. He is twenty-eight years old and he was blipped on the freeway between London and Manchester after spending the day with a friend in London. He told everyone how he came back on the freeway with his friend and watched him get killed after several cars tried to swerve out of the way. He told everyone how he got hit and wasn’t sure what was happening because he remembers being in the car one moment and suddenly being in the middle of the road with dozens of cars heading straight for them. 

He explained the fear, and how his screams will forever remain in his mind until the day he dies because he watched his friend get killed in front of him. The sound of metal crashing into metal and cars honking frantically, trying to get him out of the road, the sound of tires peeling on the pavement and air passing by him as they try to go around him. And then he was hit, he flew over the metal barrier blocking the other lane and hit the ground and rolled until he was in the ditch and staring at the October sky. The sound of cars continuing to crash into one another was still background noise even as he watched birds fly above him; and felt as if he broke his ribs and arm. It turns out he did, he spent about four months recovering physically and to this day he is still patching himself up mentally.  

He tells everyone how disfigured his friend's body was that the funeral was a closed casket. Apparently his friend's family already had a funeral for him during the blip, the tombstone was already finished when it should have taken months to make. At the real funeral with the body, the family didn’t cry but rather mourned for what could have been. They didn’t cry because he died, but rather because he could have lived again. They could have made new memories and spent more birthdays and holidays together. He said that going to a funeral for a dead person who was already considered dead for five years was different from going to one who was freshly dead in everyone's minds and not just his. It was like looking through the window of a burning house from the inside and people who escaped the house were watching it go up in flames from the outside. He said he saw his own tombstone in the same graveyard on his way of leaving the funeral, his name on it with his birthday and the day the blip happened before his body is even in the grave. 

It was terrifying to see the gravestone and still be breathing. His own mother forgot he was still alive sometimes and he would call her and she would panic and think he’s calling from beyond. To be fair, his mother has dementia and she’s been slowly succumbing to the disease. She was diagnosed during the first year that he was gone and he wasn’t there to support her, and that’s one of his biggest regrets even though he couldn’t control whether he turned to dust or not. 

Your eyes stayed on the stained glass window the whole time that Danielle and Peter shared their stories and Henry reinforced that they are doing their best to become better and he’s proud of them coming forward to receive support. You heard every word that they spoke, you understood the emotions that they were feeling when their voices would crack and they would falter in their sentences. You felt their grief without being in their shoes. You heard Danielle sniffle next to you when she spoke about her little brother and missing out on his years of adolescence. You don’t know their exact pain of what they’ve been experiencing for the past two years of their life, but you understand enough because you went through something similar. 

The meeting was set to end in about twenty minutes but with how everyone who has spoken before at the meetings besides you, they don’t seem to expect you to say anything and they aren’t going to push you. All of you know that you have to do it on your own and you have yet to come to terms about the mall and the murder of the intruder despite Layla's reassurance that you had to kill him because it was either you or him. But, it was more than that, it was to make sure that your neighbors and her stay safe and their hearts continue beating. You still murdered him and the teenager at the mall, and the parents of the children. You still took lives and you can’t shake that.

You can’t talk about the mall, or the murder, you can’t talk to them about how every night you wake up screaming and Layla is the one to turn on the nightstand light and try to calm you down enough to  sleep. You can’t tell them about anything besides the small grain of truth you’ve been holding to your chest. You’ve been here for five meetings and you’re not doing anything besides quietly staring at the stained glass window or the stain on the floor that the circle of chairs seems to always surround. You’ve been going to a support group for the blip for a little over a month now on every Tuesday, and you have yet to be supported. Why continue to go if you’re not going to open your mouth and talk? 

You’re just wasting space if you don’t say anything. Somebody else who is willing to open up about themselves can sit in your own spot. You know that you are afraid to speak not only because you’ll be welcoming support after you killed all those people; and because the bleary eyes that haunt your dreams at night and the dark corners of Layla's apartment when you get up to get a glass of water, always stare back at you. You haven’t told your roommate about them, you haven’t told her about what your nightmares are but you think she knows. Today, all throughout the meeting your eyes were on the stained glass window because you swear that someone was looking in from the outside. You can’t see their figure, just their eyes and you know exactly who they belong to. 

The bleary eyes on the other side of the colored glass don’t look directly at you but rather they observe the meeting that’s been unfolding for the last hour and a half. You feel sick staring at it, knowing that you are the reason why they are there rather than alive and breathing. You slowly take in a breath, the stale and dusty air fills your lungs along with the coldness as you listen to Henry speak about the amount of overwhelming support that everyone has been providing. You tear your eyes away from the ones looking in at the sound of your name being spoken. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, you blink and that causes your eyes to sting. 

“Yeah,” You force out as you rapidly blink to try to get rid of the stinging of your eyes. He gives you a concerned look. Stop looking at me like that, you think, I don’t deserve that. 

“Are you ready to talk?” He asks after a moment and you feel your throat swell shut as your eyes flicker to the ones looking in before looking back at him. His brown eyes were too kind for you. 

“I am talking,” You say. You don’t mean to sound defensive but you sound exactly like that. You look away from him and to the stain on the carpet. Weeks ago you decided that the stain belongs to someone's spilled coffee, it was the only thing that made sense because of the color and the scent of the beverage behind you. You haven’t decided if it was because someone dropped it or because someone set it on the ground like you do with the helmet Layla lets you borrow and accidentally kicked it.

“It’s okay if you aren’t ready.” He tells you and that makes you feel even worse. He was being too kind towards you when you were a bit mean to him. “But, you’re here for a reason. You continue to come to this support group every week when you simply could have chosen to stop after the first time.” It wasn’t that simple, you only continued to go because of the pleading look in your roommates eyes. She hasn’t asked you if going to the meetings were helping, but she must think they do because she doesn’t question too much about how they go. You don’t tell him that though and instead let the silence settle between you. He’s right about coming back, you could have demanded that the meetings stop after the second one or the third or the fourth. You could have told your roommate to fuck off or to mind her own business. But you didn’t.

You still show up on every Tuesday about ten minutes before the meeting starts and sit out on Layla's Vespa, bundled in layers of clothes to keep warm from the autumn wind and chill. You still sit through two hours of meeting, listening to people's stories, none who you have met before the first meeting and you could have left within the first few minutes or in the middle of it. You still come back and repeat the cycle of looking at the stained glass window, breathing in the apple-cinnamon air freshener and coffee and tea and dust; and bully yourself into believing that these people will hate you once you tell your sliver of truth. You still believe that you are a bad person and Ammit would believe that too. Except, when she did momentarily rule and people were judged, you weren’t one of those who were killed. Whether that’s because she didn’t have a chance to get to you or because you were judged and you passed. 

Ammit wanted to judge people before they had the chance of doing the bad thing, what if you passed her judgment? What if- underneath her judgment- you are a good person. It’s a fifty-fifty chance that she just didn’t get to you in time, but there's also a chance that she did. As much as you don’t want to rely on a goddesses morals who tried to wipe out all evil off of the board, you want to believe that you are a good person because if you stay in this self-deprecation you’ve been stuck in, you will die in it; and it all can’t be for nothing. The nightmares, the fraud, the stalking, the nights spent waiting for Steven and Marc to come back, the year you spent alone and wanting to die. The endless guilt and anxiety and tears that you can drown yourself in if you were to collect it into a bucket.

You could have left that baby in its stroller in the mall, but you didn’t. You tried to make sure your friend was safe because you thought a goddess would let her die. You tried to make sure that everyone in that restaurant's kitchen would be okay. You tried your hardest to be a soldier, but you are just a kid. You are just a seventeen year old child carrying the weight of grief and anxiety and acting like you are an adult because that’s who you had to become when the universe yanked the rug out from underneath your feet and took away everything from you. You allowed jealousy of those teenagers having fun distract you because you thought you were safe and you’ve been apologizing to the universe ever since. You should have held that teens hands as he breathed out his last breath so he wasn’t alone and terrified. But you didn’t know, how could you have known that a cult would pull some bullshit like they did? 

It’s war and you just didn’t know. Horus didn’t attack you but observed you and perhaps even warned you of the looming threat moments before you noticed. The cult member that broke in was planning to do something with you; he only had one bullet in his gun and missed his shot. You’ve been taught since you were in pre-school to never allow strangers to take you to a second location and that’s what you did. You defended yourself and made sure that he would never hurt anyone else again. One less member of a cult that was willing to take their anger out on the world because their goddess can no longer be released. 

You have to believe that you are a good person because if you don’t you will die. You’ve been killing yourself for longer before the mall but it just increased afterwards. You have to believe that you are a good person, your neighbors and your roommate believed it too at one point. But, it’s up to you to ultimately believe that you are good enough to continue breathing or stay in this pit for the remainder of your life. 

“I was gone for five years.” You quietly say. Your voice startles you when it comes out of your mouth and into the stale air. You try to ignore the eyes that feel like they’re burning into you from the window as you speak. “I lived in New York…in the Brooklyn area. I remember standing up from my bed to call my best friend about some stupid thing and it was like I blinked and then my bedroom was different. Some other family lived in my childhood home and I-I didn’t understand so I ran outside and the building was my building. I saw my window and the building number and I heard someone speaking to someone else about what was happening. I ended up staying in a café, my phone was going off and I…” You trail off and swallow. The memory was clear in your head of what happened, but you can’t exactly tell them the truth. So, you fudge it a little. 

“I picked it up and it was my aunt telling me my mom and dad died during the years that I was gone and that she wanted me to come to her home in Wyoming but I didn’t.” You state. Even the lie hurts you to tell. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you release a shuddering breath. “I moved to England and now, I’m here.” Nobody says anything for a moment and you think that if you had lasers for eyes that the coffee stain in the carpet would be set on fire by now. 

“I think it was very brave of you to step forward today,” Henry finally says. Maybe he didn’t expect you to say anything today and that’s why it took so long for him to gather his bearing; or maybe he was waiting for you to continue. “You don’t have to tell us everything if you’re not completely ready, but this was a very good start for you.” You nod without looking at him and you feel like you’re about to throw up from everything that you’re feeling. You just want to leave and get some fresh air before calling Layla to come get you. Your leg bounces for a moment before you stand up, you know that everyone is looking at you but you don’t care. 

“Thanks,” You whisper out, your voice sounds hoarse and you try not to look at anyone so they won’t notice the tears in your eyes. “I am- I need some air.” You tell them before you grab the helmet next to your seat and walk quickly towards the exit. As you approach the door, you can see two small leaves stuck to the glass in the exact place you saw the eyes looking in. You almost let out a sob at the sight as you turn the handle and push open the door, stepping out into the cold evening air. You let the door shut on its own behind you as you walk towards the end of the awning and lean against the church's walls and close your eyes. You take in a deep breath, holding it in your lungs and letting it burn the organs before pushing it out through your mouth. It comes out as a vapor and floats slowly away before disappearing entirely. 

Deep breath in, hold and slow release before repeating the cycle until you are ready to open your eyes. Once you do, you look up to the clear night sky, the moon is full and shining down onto the city below and stars paint the sky like one of those old paintings from the eighteen hundreds. Your eyes scan the sky, searching for the easiest one and your favorite, the Big Dipper. You let a small bitter-sweet smile spread across your face at the sight of it. You think Cecilia was right when she told you that talking about what everyone experienced helps you breathe better. You don’t know if it's the night chill or the relief of getting a small bit of the truth off of your chest but you feel a little better than you have been.

You let the tears run down your face as you stare at the night sky. For a moment, you wonder if Steven or Marc or Jake was staring at it too. You take in one last breath before you pull your phone out of Marc's jacket and unlock it with the pattern it requested before going to contacts. You begin to scroll through it, only to surprise yourself when you go past Layla's and straight to Stevens and click on the contact. His picture was enlarged on the screen and you stare at it, feeling more tears slip down your cheeks. You’ve been trying to distance yourself from him but you miss him and it wasn’t fair. Your hands shake as you hesitate to call him before your thumb hits the green dial button and you bring it up to your ear.

You listen to it ring for a few moments. You wouldn’t be upset with him if he doesn’t pick up, you did refuse to speak to him the last time that you saw them. The click surprises you and your heart aches even more at the sound of his voice flooding into your ear. 

“Dove?” He says. He sounds a little anxious and worried. “What’s wrong?” Your nose stings and you try to swallow the lump in your throat while a bubble of apologies rises in your throat for how you acted and how much you miss him. 

“Steven,” You breathe out instead and try to stifle the sobs threatening to release from your chest and into the night air. “Hello.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks, “Are you safe? Stop it, Jake-” He hisses out the last part and you nearly laugh at the image of him glaring at his alter in some reflective surface.

“No,” You say. “I’m good.” 

He doesn’t answer for a moment and you think that he doesn’t believe you and he’s about to pressure you for information before he says,  “How are you?”

“I've been better.” You say with honesty. That’s all you ever have been with them: honest and you hope that they will too after what happened last time. You almost close your eyes at the memory of Marc yelling at you about being blipped or losing your parents not being special enough to hurt over; and then the endearments of ‘I love you’ that followed. 

“Yeah?” He asks, “Where are you?”

“A church.”

“You didn’t strike me as a religious type.” He says and you shake your head at that.

“I’m not.” You reply. “I just finished a support group meeting….Layla didn’t tell you?”

“She hasn’t told us anything since Jake dropped you off.” He says. You don’t know what to say so you don’t let out any noise except the soft breathing leaving your nose. “Jake replaced the handle for your flat.” He tells you, “He made two sets of keys and we’ll give them to you the next time that we see you. Unless you want us to give them to Layla and she’ll give them to you without you needing to see us.” You feel more tears leak out of the corner of your eyes and you try to blink them away before anyone from the meeting comes out and tries to speak with you. You are hurt from this situation and you try to keep in mind that they are too. You should speak with them about everything, about the night they don’t remember and how you’ve been feeling. 

“Steven.” You breathe out. “Keep the keys until the next time that I see you guys.” It will give you a reason to need to see them. 

“Yeah?” He sounds hopeful and regret tastes bitter on your tongue. Maybe they don’t hate you as much as you convinced yourself that they did.

“Yeah.” You hum out and you imagine he’s smiling on the other end of the line. 

“Everything is clean.” He tells you. “Marc and Jake took care of it and I would’ve helped but-” He cuts himself off and you close your eyes, trying to steady your breath as the memory of the man laying on your floor flashes in your mind. You know it was either you or him, and you made the right choice, you have to believe that you did, or you’ll drown again.

“No, I get it.” You tell him. “I…thank you.” You finish. It feels awful and awkward to thank them for taking care of it. 

“There was this sticky note.” He says, “The same one I put on the container of food I gave you back before Marc and I knew about Jake. ‘Please call us- or visit us. -Steven/Marc.’ You kept it.” You did, you set it underneath a container of salt so you wouldn’t lose it or forget about it in a drawer. They must have found it when they were cleaning your flat. 

“Yeah,” You say. He was quiet on the other end of the line and you glanced down at the puddle in front of you. “What about it?” You ask after a moment.

“Nothing,” He answers and instead of imagining he's smiling, you can hear in his voice that he is. “So how is staying with Layla?”

“It’s good,” You say. “Everything is good.” 

You listen to him breathe on the other end of the line and you can feel the tension rise slightly between you before he whispers out, “I’m sorry we weren’t there for you.” You almost close your eyes.

“Steven-” You start but get cut off, 

“You’re just a child-”

“Steven it’s-”

“We should have taken care of you better.” He says. You can hear the regret in his tone and you don’t know how to fix what is broken between you. You don’t know if it's salvageable but you do know that you miss him even though you tried not to. You try to think of the right words, something that can put this to rest for now and give them some reassurance that it’s not their fault. 

“It’s not like you can be there all the time.” You say, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay?” You listen to his breath shudder on his end and you think he’s about to cry. You hope he doesn’t because then you’ll cry and you just were able to stop not too long ago.

“What are you doing this weekend?” He asks after a few moments. “Maybe we can give you the keys then?”

“Not this weekend.” You tell him, “Lauren invited me over to teach me how to handle children and possibly babysit her kids in the future. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to take care of them. Besides, maybe it would be a good source of income if I’m good at it.” You don’t add how you made a deal to borrow her Scooby-Doo Halloween collection back in October only if you were to accept her deal to spend time with her outside of work.

“Do you think that you’ll be good at it?” He asks.  You look away from the puddle and to the sight of the trees at the edge of the parking lot. You can lie, tell him that you’re great with children and that you were just watering down how fantastic you are; but you don’t, you tell him the truth. You hope that the next time that you speak with them they will be honest with you.

“I don’t know.” 

“I think you’ll be fine at it.” He says. “You’ll have a hiccup here and there but everyone does.” You nod and let the silence settle between you as your eyes land back on your favorite constellation. It shines brightly, if anyone were to look up into the sky they wouldn’t be able to miss it. Your same thought of your neighbors looking up into the sky from earlier reappeared in your mind.

“Steven?” You ask quietly. 

“Yeah, dove?” 

“Do you see the Big Dipper from where you are?”

“I’m- hold on,” He says. You hear him shuffling on the other end of the line and you imagine him forcing himself away from the table cluttered with books and papers about Egypt and making sure that none of the sheets fall to the floor as he stands. Your heart hurts at the image, you miss him so much. “I…” He trails off and you keep your eyes trained on the constellation. “I see it.” He breathes out, you like to think a smile was tugging at his lips just like it was spreading across your face. 

You pull in a big breath of cold air, the feeling of it burns your warm lungs and you slowly release it. The vapor floats in front of you while the smile still stays on your face as you say, “Me too.”

—

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[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 31/?: Solutions

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17,  Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

“You’re sure you don’t want to wait?” Sam asked plaintively, “Are you sure you need a quick and easy solution?”

Phoenix eyed the door Sam had led him to. It looked like every other bedroom door in the house, but the way Sam was acting, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was filled with hungry ratworms. If he strained his ears, he actually could hear some vague hissing—maybe it was ratworms. “I’m sure. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nooooooooooooothiiiiiiiiiiiiing. It’s just. Ugh. You know what, let’s get this over with.”

Sam rapped neatly on the door. Thumps sounded from the other side, and the door swung open, a grimwalker Phoenix recognized as Novus on the other side. He almost never saw Novus, he realized, not even wandering the hallways. Did he ever leave his room, except for meals?

“Hot water isn’t working yet,” the grimwalker rasped, looking at some mess of gears in his hands, “I’ll let you knowwwwwwwwwwell hello, there, Sammy.”

“Novus.”

Phoenix looked back and forth between the two. Novus reflected Sam’s thin build, and they shared a face that looked a little bit more like Belos than Caleb, but his nose looked more like their ortet’s, his hair was cut short, rather than tied up like Sam’s, and instead of small silvery scars on his throat, Novus bore one thick, rough, red scar that went all the way around his neck, as well as another scar slashing through the left side of his forehead. They shared similar looks of disdain as they eyed each other, like two cats who hadn’t quite gotten used to each other.

Novus broke the silent stare first, clearing his throat.

“What are you doing here?” His voice still sounded hoarse, and Phoenix wondered idly if he had a cold, or if his rough voice had something to do with the scar around his throat.

“I need. Hrngh.” Sam coughed. “That is to say. Phoenix here. Is looking for a solution to his little situation. Something to keep him together. Something quick. And I thought perhaps you. Might have something. Maybe.”

“What?” Novus asked, his voice delighted, “You need my help? Your ever so superior glyphs don’t have the answer? You can’t fix it yourself?”

“I will!” Sam said hotly, “Just… not yet. Quick, easy, temporary solutions are more… your thing.”

Novus rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just admit you need help?”

“Can’t you just use glyphs to heat the water?”

“Okay,” Phoenix broke in, “Thanks Sam, have fun with your research, I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” Sam said loftily, “So long as Novus doesn’t blow you up first.”

“Go away,” Phoenix said shortly. As entertaining as the two of them were, he was relatively certain this kind of interaction would last all day if he let it. A quick, easy solution would take as long as Sam’s research.

Sam left, and Novus pulled Phoenix inside of his room. The beds in this room had been shoved into the far corners, and the floor was almost completely occupied with a giant metal tank surrounded by gears and other metal bits that Phoenix couldn’t name. Belos had repaired his staff once after a particularly brutal fight with a wild witch, and the inside had sort of looked like this, all wires and metal. Tools hung along the walls, and shelves displayed music boxes and windup toys, as well as one little engine that puffed out steam with no apparent other purpose—the source of the hissing, Phoenix realized.

Phoenix nodded to the tank on the floor. “So… what is this?”

“The water heater. Or, at least it will be. Mom used to just spell the taps, but we’re sort of strapped for magic right now, and I’m looking for an alternative solution.”

“Which is…?”

“I don’t know yet.” Novus snorted. “Why don’t you just use a glyph?” he mimicked, “Why don’t you just go stand out in the boiling rain for a shower? Or heat water on the stove and slowly pour it into the bath? Geeze. Anyway. What exactly are you looking for?”

“Something to keep my arms in place. They’re falling apart, and I want something that will keep them from getting out of control. Something sturdy that won’t break. Provide some support.”

“Hm.” Novus ran his finger over a rack filled with scrolls—blueprints, Phoenix realized. “Garden watering, gator toy, garbage compactor… gauntlets, there you are.”

He pulled out a scroll that bore more tears than the others, the whole thing scuffed and faded, and covered in fold marks. Blood dotted the back of it. Novus lay it down on a bed, unrolling the paper. “Almost threw this one out—not much use for it. But now I’m glad I didn’t.”

Phoenix peered over his shoulder. Neat white lines depicted a set of gloves that would accordion fold and stretch outwards with the wearer’s arms, but keep their general shape. Phoenix frowned, picturing the design in gold instead of the blue paper.

“This design… looks… familiar”

Novus chuckled. “Well, who do you think it was originally for?” Novus tapped the design. “One of the few things I brought with me. This aaaaaand…” He pulled another scroll out of its place, whipping it open to show Phoenix the design of a very familiar staff.

“You made…” Phoenix shook his head. “I thought everyone got a staff? But you designed it?”

“Well, no, Belos had them before I came along. But I’m the reason they stopped exploding.”

Phoenix coughed. “Exploding?!”

“Exploding, malfunctioning in midair, burning out after a few uses…” Novus gestured to the scar on his forehead. “You’re welcome. Anyway. That’s all over now.” He rolled up the staff design and put it back in its place. “Or… at least I thought it was.” He rubbed the side of his neck, clearing his throat. “So. Gauntlets. I can make some for you, if you think they’ll help. Modify them so that they lock in place rather than stretch with your arms.”

“Belos’ gauntlets.”

“Yes.”

Phoenix rubbed his arms. “No other options?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. If Sammy boy does find a solution for you, great, but these are my solution. These are what you can do now.”

“How long will they take?”

“Assuming I can scavenge the parts pretty quickly? Give me three hours for each glove. We can test one out and see how it works before I build the other one. There was something about these that Belos didn’t like, but I don’t remember… eh. I’ll figure it out. Probably won’t even bother you, I doubt you’re as picky as he was.” Novus patted Phoenix’s shoulder. “I’ll pick a different color scheme for you, too. Make it seem less…” he trailed off, fingers tightening on Phoenix’s shoulder.

“…Novus?”

“Uh.” Novus coughed, releasing Phoenix’s shoulder and fiddling with a set of gears. “Sorry. Haven’t. Taken these out in a while. Don’t worry about it. Okay. Bye. I’ll find you if I need you.”

Novus shoved Phoenix out of the room. Almost immediately, Sam descended on him.

“Phoenix. Look. Watch.” He held up the jar with the bit of Phoenix’s mud inside, and dropped a flower in. The slime immediately crept onto it, and in seconds, the blossom had disappeared completely. “I think I figured out why it burns your arms. It’s trying to eat them. It doesn’t have a magic source like palisman, so it’s just consuming flesh—I think it will eat magic if it can, like it did to Mom’s extraction spell, but if it doesn’t, then flesh will do.”

Phoenix squeezed his eyes shut. How long before it consumed the rest of his arms? The rest of him? “Oh. Great.”

“Hasn’t been burning since last night, though, right?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway.”

“Huh.” Sam tucked the jar underneath one arm to jot down a note.

“Sam? Where’d you put Petro?”

“In my room for now. Why? Do you think he knows something? He probably won’t tell you if he does.”

“Yep. I know. Thanks, Sam.”

Phoenix trotted down the hallway to Sam’s room. Locke stood outside, leaning against the wall, but he straightened up when he saw Phoenix approaching. “Uh—you don’t want to see him, do you?”

“I do. Can I have a minute alone?”

Locke shrugged and kicked the door once. Lake opened it, raised one eyebrow at Phoenix, but stood aside. “All yours.”

“Thanks.”

Phoenix closed the door behind himself. “Hey.”

Petro looked him up and down. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you something.” Phoenix held up the mask from the pit. “You wanted a souvenir, right?”

“Awwwww, you brought me my favorite. So considerate. What’s the catch?”

Phoenix set the mask down where Petro could see it. “No catch. I just thought you should have it.”

Petro squinted at him. “Why?”

“There were dozens of them down there. Masks. Armor bits. Cloaks.”

“And?”

Phoenix sighed. “He tossed our bodies like he was taking out the trash, Petro. All of those masks—proof he didn’t care about any of us. Not me. Not you.” Phoenix nudged the mask. “All of us were just another mask in the pit to him.”

“Get to the point.”

“I just figured it would be a good reminder. You don’t like me. I get the message. And you think you’re different from the rest of us. You’re still loyal to him, while the rest of us are glad he’s gone. But we all share one thing in common: he tossed us aside. Even you.” Phoenix tapped the mask. “But we were all worth more than that. Someone thought you were worth more, someone who sang lullabies for you.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, but Petro just snorted dismissively. “Think highly of yourself, do you? He tossed you aside and didn’t think twice about it. He may have killed me, but he made a glyph to bring me back. We’re not the same.”

Phoenix sighed. He hadn’t really thought his speech or the gift would change Petro, at least not a huge shift, but he’d hoped something he’d said would strike a chord. Or at the least, help him find out more about who’d been in that memory. “Yeah. Well.” He opened the door, nodding to Lake. “He didn’t use it, did he?”

Phoenix closed the door, leaning against the wall with a sigh.

“It’s not bad,” Locke said.

“What?”

“Not having arms. It’s not bad. You know. If it comes to that. I can give you pointers!”

“…Thanks? Why do you think it’s going to get that bad?”

“Because Sam’s been swearing up a blue streak in his lab. Also a lot of excitement! But, you know, in a Sam way. So very mad scientisty. Not exactly promising. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Right. Thanks. Again.”

Phoenix strode towards the medical hub. He needed to check on Caleb—if Evelyn’s potion had worked, the ortet was probably fine, but still. He needed to see with his own two eyes.

“…What are we going to do when it gets worse?”

Phoenix stopped, flattening himself to the wall outside the door. A mirror in the hallway reflected Caleb and Evelyn., and Phoenix watched as Caleb put his hands on Evelyn’s arms.

“If it gets worse. We don’t know that it will.”

“Alright. If it gets worse. What’s our backup plan?”

“We don’t need a backup plan. I’m going to do it right this time, and no one will get hurt. Not you. Not me. Not Ph-Phoenix.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed at the stutter. “Caleb…”

“What?”

“Caleb, love, he’s not your brother.”

What?

Caleb let go of her arms, tucking his hands underneath his own arms. “I—well—of course he isn’t. Who said—I know that. Of course he isn’t. Which is why it’s going to work out this time. It has to.”

“Caleb.” Evelyn reached up, brushing Caleb’s face with her hand. “Listen. You can’t fix what happened between you and Phillip by helping Phoenix. Doing better now won’t change what happened in the past. It won’t bring the Phillip you loved back.”

“What? Evelyn, what? I know it isn’t the same thing! You think I haven’t learned that lesson after watching my brother try and fail to make the kids into me time after time after time?!”

Evelyn sighed. “I’m just… I’m worried that you’re applying our past to his future.”

“And you’re not?”

Evelyn’s face darkened. “Come again?”

Phoenix’s heart pounded in his chest. He’d never heard Caleb and Evelyn fight before—he’d sort of assumed they never did. But now a big one was brewing. Because of him.

Caleb rubbed his arms. “You’ve been colder. Distant. You’re right, Evelyn. He’s not Phillip. So why are you acting like he’ll turn into my brother any second?”

“I-I—” Evelyn sputtered, “I’m not—”

“Yes, you have been! You wouldn’t even look at him last night!”

“I’m just trying to keep us safe!” Evelyn burst out.

“What, by treating him like he’s going to explode? Evelyn, he’s not Phillip. He’s Phoenix. Do you really think he’s going to hurt us? Really? After everything?”

“I’m not scared of Phoenix! Of course I’m not scared of Phoenix. I know he’d never want to hurt anyone here—titan, do you think I don’t know that?”

“Then why are you—”

“Because that thing in his arms isn’t Phoenix. Caleb, you didn’t see him when he came back with you, not really, you were half passed out, but it was like—like he didn’t recognize us! He growled at me, he wouldn’t let you go—it wasn’t him. It didn’t act like him.”

Phoenix pressed one arm to his stomach, the flesh of his arms rippling uneasily. Not me. It would be so easy to believe that. And he hadn’t felt exactly like himself, not really. He’d felt… different. Like his own self had been put under a thin blanket of something else. He hadn’t quite been able to see Evelyn, or anyone. But had that really been the curse? Or had it been his own panic making him blind and reluctant to trust anyone?

Maybe it was both. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to separate the two completely. Maybe he’d just have to factor the curse and how it affected him into every choice he made, every step he took.

“I’m not scared of Phoenix,” Evelyn repeated, her voice cracking, “I’m scared that curse is going to be stronger than him. And I’m scared that we’re not going to be able to help him if it gets out of control. I’m scared that I’m going to have to choose between him and the rest of the family, and Caleb, I’m scared of what I’ll have to do if I have to make that choice. Because I know how dangerous that curse can be. If it gets out of control, and someone gets hurt? That’s not on Phoenix, Caleb. It’s on us. You and I. And I won’t—I can’t let it hurt my family again.”

Phoenix’s hands curled into shaking fists.

If I hurt them…

Forget what Evelyn might have to do. He wouldn’t be able to take it—he’d exile himself before he let that happen. She had to know that, she had to know that he’d tried-!

Caleb reached out towards her. “Evelyn, I unders—”

She tugged away. “No, you don’t. You may have rescued the kids from Belos, but I was the one who healed them. I was the one who sat at their sides at night, worried that they wouldn’t live to see the morning. I saw the damage that Belos did to them, so much of it damage he did with his so-called curse. And Caleb, I couldn’t take it if something like that happened to them again. Like Ash, titan, Ash—”

Phoenix’s breath caught in his throat. He needed to go before he overheard something private—he shouldn’t have listened at all, the whole conversation was private, but especially not to spy while they talked about someone else.

But his legs didn’t move.

“Hey. Hey. I was there for Ash, too.” Caleb’s voice took on a distressed, grieved tone. “I knelt in the dark of that godforsaken graveyard pit for half an hour just trying to get them to keep breathing, to get their chest rising and falling long enough that I could get them out of there without worrying they’d die if I stopped. I’ve seen the worst of what this curse can do, or at least I hope I have. I know it can be dangerous. I know that in the wrong hands, it’ll hurt. But I trust Phoenix. The last time he lost control, he saved my life—choosing between Phoenix or the rest of the family isn’t a choice you’ll be making. I believe that with my whole soul. I trust him.”

“But if—”

“If something happens, then we’ll deal with it. If. For now… trust that Phoenix will be safe. Please?”

“I can’t promise,” Evelyn said softly, so softly Phoenix almost couldn’t hear it, “I’ve been careful for too long to let my guard down now.”

Caleb reached for her hands, and this time, she let him take them. “Then just promise me you’ll try. For Phoenix. For me.”

Evelyn pressed her forehead against his. “I promise. But you promise me. If something does go wrong—I need you to trust me to do the right thing, and not interfere because you’re too close to the situation. I need you to promise that you’ll step back and let me handle it.”

“It won’t happen.”

“Caleb.”

“Fine. Fine, I promise.”

Phoenix left, ducking into the kitchen and leaning against the wall, dizzy. He squeezed his eyes shut. It made sense. Having a failsafe was good. Having a plan if something went wrong was the right thing to do. It would keep everyone safe. Still, he wondered hollowly what that plan was. And, with some bitterness, what Evelyn thought she could do if the curse did make him attack them. Her magic hadn’t exactly been able to tame it so far.

“BOO!”

Phoenix’s eyes snapped open, and he nearly threw a punch outwards before realizing there was no one standing in front of him, and the sound had come from somewhere around his knees. The baby grimwalker grinned up at him, holding their hands in a ‘surprise!’ gesture.

Phoenix put one hand to his chest, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. “Titan, you scared me.”

The grimwalker held their hands up. “Up! Up, Nee-Nee.”

Despite Evelyn’s unknown plan, despite the heavy conversation, Phoenix felt a smile creeping onto his face. They picked up words quickly. “What’s the magic word?”

Their face scrunched up, and they tilted their head. “…boo?”

“How about… say please?”

“Pease?”

Titan, that’s adorable.

Phoenix picked the little grimwalker up. “There you go. Up. Tired of walking already? I get it, buddy.”

They waved their arms around again. “Boo!”

“You like that one, huh? You’re a regular little ghost. Quiet as one, too, when you want to be. I didn’t even hear you come in the room.”

“Dhost.” The grimwalker exaggerated the new word, moving their lips carefully to form the sound. “Dhost.”

“Ghost?”

“Dhost. Boo!”

“Yeah? Is that what I should call you?”

“Nee-Nee.”

“No, that’s my name. You can’t have it.”

The toddler smacked his shoulder and pointed at the doorway. Caleb and Evelyn had moved from the living room to the kitchen, and just stood, watching Phoenix and the little grimwalker. Caleb wore a grin looking at the two of them, and even Evelyn smiled.

The toddler made another ‘surprise’ gesture, this time at Caleb and Evelyn. “Boo!”

“Ah!” both of them yelped, as if on cue. Caleb put a hand to his chest. “You scared me!”

Evelyn shook her head, leaning on the doorframe. “Terrifying!”

The little grimwalker burst into a fit of giggles. They tapped Phoenix’s shoulder again. “Nee-Nee.”

“Uh-huh.”

The grimwalker tapped their own shoulder. “Boo! Dhost.”

“Ghost?”

They nodded gravely. “Da. Dhost.” They squeezed his neck, gave him a big, slobbery kiss, then kicked their legs. “Down.”

Phoenix set them on the ground, grimacing and wiping the slobber from his face while they toddled up to Caleb and Evelyn. Evelyn crouched down. “Hey, there.”

“Hey.” They patted their chest. “Dhost.”

“Yeah?”

“Da.” Ghost’s face scrunched up. “D-Ggggghooooooooost.”

Caleb grinned. “I think we just got a new record for the fastest time to pick a name.”

Evelyn picked the toddler up, bouncing them on her hip. “Oh, good. I was getting a bit tired of calling them ‘you.’” She blew a raspberry at Ghost. “Yeah? Yeah, you want your own name?”

“Da.”

“Well, let’s go introduce you to the rest of the family then, Ghost.”

Evelyn wandered off with the toddler. Caleb watched her go with soft, smiling eyes, then turned to Phoenix. “So. How much did you hear?”

A thrill of panic shot through Phoenix. “What?”

“Mirrors work both ways, Phoenix. I saw you in the glass when you left.”

Stupid. Of course if he was able to see Caleb in the mirror, then Caleb could see him. He should have covered his exit better—there could have been a way out that wouldn’t catch in the mirror.

“Most of it, I think,” he answered, “Does Evelyn…?”

“I don’t think she noticed.” Caleb rubbed the stumps of his missing fingers. “She’s just being cautious,” he burst out, “It’s not that she doesn’t trust you, it’s more complicated than that—”

Phoenix flushed. “It’s okay,” he tried, “Caleb, really—” It wasn’t her wanting a contingency plan that bothered him. There was something else about the whole exchange that had rubbed him the wrong way, but he couldn’t quite place what.

“I mean, she’s just—she’s seem some things, and she’s still figuring out how she feels about this, and—”

“Caleb. I understand. It’s smart to be careful.” Phoenix tugged on his sleeves. “We still don’t know everything about this. I want to have a backup plan, too.”

“I hope your backup plan isn’t running into a boiling rainstorm again.”

“I will if I have to.”

Caleb sighed. “I know. How are things going with Sam?”

“How did you know I asked Sam to help?”

“Heard him saying ‘oh, that’s fascinating’ when I passed the lab, which I had to assume was about… this.”

“Sounds right.” Phoenix rubbed his arms. “He said it would take a while. I asked Novus to help out.”

Caleb chuckled. “I’m sure Sam loved that.”

“He suggested it, actually.”

“Really? Interesting. He really must be stumped.”

“Yes. Um—Novus’ voice sounds hoarse, is there anything I can…?” A project like this—building those gauntlets—he should have a thank-you. Really, he should have gotten one for Sam, too, but Phoenix sort of got the feeling studying the curse was a gift in and of itself to Sam.

Caleb shook his head. “It’s just like that. I’m glad he’s helping—any idea what that means?”

“I was just thinking containment,” Phoenix said quietly, “Keep it under control.”

“Hm.”

“Are you okay? After the other night—Evelyn said she was making a potion, but… are you okay? Really?”

Caleb stared out the hallway, his eyes faraway. “I think so. Physically.” He absentmindedly rubbed the stumps of his fingers. “Phoenix, you don’t… you don’t think I’m not taking this seriously enough, do you? I mean, am I being too optimistic? Be honest.”

Phoenix opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. Caleb was definitely more optimistic than everyone else—or, maybe less “optimistic” and more “not as judgmental” as everyone else. Maybe Evelyn was right—maybe he was seeing a second chance with Phillip in Phoenix. But then, he knew Caleb was disappointed Phillip had never changed, and was certain that the human realm hadn’t, so maybe his faith really did have more to do with Phoenix than looking for redemption.

“Oh, this is going to be hard to explain to Jason,” was the thing that came out of his mouth, spurred by the thought of the human realm. Where was he even going to start?!

Caleb barked a startled laugh. “Not the answer I was expecting.”

“Sorry, I…” Phoenix considered explaining his train of thought, then dismissed the idea. “He’d probably know what to say.”

“He’d have a nice answer, at least.” Caleb heaved a deep sigh. “I hope he’s found a human realm library.”

“He’s probably surrounded by all the human realm literature he could want,” Phoenix assured him, “We’ll get him back, and he’ll have twelve new stories to tell us all about.”

“Only twelve?”

“Okay. Probably more.” Phoenix settled back down. “But… seriously? I don’t know. I mean, I definitely like the way you treat me and the curse compared to the way everyone else is treating it. But… I understand why Evelyn wants a safety net. I’m just not sure she’ll be able to come up with a plan that will work, not on her own—that’s the problem, we just don’t know. I guess I mostly wish we had more information about it that wasn’t…”

“Consume palisman and end up covered in eyeballs?” Caleb suggested.

“Yeah. That.”

Caleb stared out into the hallway again. “You can’t… hear them, can you?”

“Who?”

“The palisman. Phillip could hear them. They’d beg to be free.”

Phoenix shuddered. You and me both, he thought, as if the palisman could hear him. “No. It’s just… me in there. And him. But mostly me. I think.”

Maybe that wasn’t true, strictly speaking. Maybe that overwhelming feeling of bigness, of feeling like a wild creature… maybe that had been the palisman.

Maybe. But what had Sam said about residual memories? Maybe it wasn’t them at all, just… an afterimage. A ghost of long-dead palisman. He couldn’t hear their voices, after all.

As if the thought had summoned him, Sam flew out of his lab, looking wildly down both ways of the hall, then striding briskly towards Phoenix. “It can eat magic,” he yelled, still halfway down the hallway, “It ate a potion!”

“We already knew that,” Phoenix yelled back. Had he forgotten what happened to Evelyn?

Sam skidded to a halt. “Okay, right, sure. It eats magic. We knew that already from Uncle Bels—he ate palisman to provide that magic, but there’s something a little bit different about the way it affects you. It makes you tired when you use it. It also eats flesh when it’s really out of control. Okay. So. Hear me out: what if it’s eating at you, making you more tired, sapping your energy… as an alternative source to magic? We don’t have magic it can eat. So it’s… it’s converting your body’s energy into its own magic. It’s… evolved… to a form that doesn’t have magic and isn’t consuming other magical creatures to sustain itself.”

“Okay?”

Sam waved his hands back and forth. “It’s a constant drain. Constantly sapping your ‘magic.’ The more tired or stressed you are, the less energy there is for it to take, so your arms start to lose shape and form. If you try to use it the way Belos did, it takes even more energy to make it move, and, of course, to turn it back. So it starts eating at your actual flesh. Like when you’re starving, so your body starts to eat your own muscles? You’re out of energy, so it has to start consuming you—or anyone who touches it—to keep going. That’s the burning. And it gets out of control because it needs to feed, and it's looking for anything to eat.”

“Okay—Sam, what are you saying? Have you figured out a solution?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Sam warned.

Well. That didn’t sound good. “Just tell me.”

Sam clasped his shoulder. “Eat well. Get lots of sleep. The more energy you have to start with, the less likely it is to eat you or anyone else.”

Caleb laughed. “Take care of yourself, Phoenix. Doctor’s orders.”

“I—” Phoenix sputtered, “I can do that! It’s fine!”

Sam jabbed one finger at him. “I mean it. Regular sleep. Regular eating. Try to keep yourself out of more stressful situations, since that’ll burn your energy faster. You’re really bad at those things.”

“Pot,” Caleb said, amused.

“Coming from the kettle himself,” Sam shot back, “Must be a family trait.” He shrugged. “I’ll keep looking for other options. You won’t ALWAYS be able to keep that up. Or the curse might need more energy some days—especially if you use it for any more daring rescues. And titan knows there’s a lot of things that stress you out.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just saying. If its primary feeding source is magic, we might be able to lessen the amount of energy it takes from you directly by finding some kind of magical booster. A magic energy shot to negate the worst of the effects. Not palisman, obviously, but something along those lines.” Sam tapped his chin. “If there are any other cursed individuals out in the Isles, we could always ask their management systems. I’m sure yours isn’t the only magic-eating curse out there.”

“Oh!” Phoenix broke in, “Eda! She mentioned some elixir!”

“Eda?” Caleb squeaked, “As in…”

“The owl lady, yes, Father, contain yourself, I know you’re unduly nervous about your progeny,” Sam spoke over Caleb, “Elixir. Interesting terminology. I’d like to hear more.”

“Well, that’ll only happen if we launch a rescue mission to the archive house,” Phoenix said gloomily, “Otherwise, we’re not getting an interview any time soon.”

“Hm.” Sam pushed his glasses up. “I’ll keep looking at it. I’ve still got a few tests to run, to figure out what the substance of this is—how similar is it to Belos’ curse and all. Might be more clues there. For now…”

“Eat, sleep, don’t stress,” Phoenix finished, “Got it.”

“Yeah. Those things. Good luck.”

Sam bolted back down the hallway. Caleb watched him go with the smallest of satisfied smiles on his face. “Who would have guessed that taking care of yourself was the right step all along?”

Phoenix sighed. “Please don’t start.”

It sounded so stupid when Sam said it out loud: just get enough rest, and eat right. It should be so easy; it should be something he was already doing, he knew that. And it was infuriating how difficult he knew it would be to take it slow. He didn’t want to sit back. He wanted to go back to the archive house and rescue Darius, and King, and Eda and Lilith. He wanted to rip open a new portal to the human realm and get Jason, Hunter, and the rest of the kids back. He wanted to get the Collector away from Terra and Odalia and make up with them. But all of that effort would be futile anyway if the curse ate him alive before he could help anyone.

Caleb held his hands up peaceably. “Alright, alright. Just… listen to him? Please?”

“I’ll try,” Phoenix promised.

“That’s all I want.” Caleb smiled. “Good luck with the gadget plan. I’ve got to go check in with some of the refugees and then take inventory. Let me know how Novus’ idea works out.”

Caleb disappeared down the hallway. Phoenix leaned against the doorframe with a sigh. Sleep and nutrition. He could practically see Jason’s face being smug about it.

I hope he’s okay. I hope he’s taking care of himself.

Probably not.

But they’d been with the human—surely she’d have some ability to help, or could find someone who could. A parent, maybe. Anyone so that Jason wouldn’t be trying to take care of everyone on his own.

Novus tapped Phoenix’s shoulder, and he jumped. He hadn’t noticed the grimwalker approach—that was two for two. Maybe it was the curse, or maybe it was just getting lost in his thoughts, but being so unaware of his surroundings that people snuck up on him without effort… that was dangerous. Especially if he planned on going back to the archive house for a rescue mission.

“Sorry. I’ve got some barebones of the gauntlets laid out. They’re not finished, and there’s not much in the way of cushioning, but I figured we could see how they worked before I did all that.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Phoenix followed Novus back to his room. When the grimwalker had said “bare bones,” he hadn’t been kidding—panels of metal connected by shifting joints and hinges formed a vague glove shape, but the whole thing looked exposed and raw.

“How does it work?”

Novus shrugged, fiddling with a pull tab “Basic concept is that it’ll shift the panels around until they’re tight and then lock in place—except, of course, around your joints. The mechanism locks up once it encounters resistance, and you’d have to start it up again to get it to go any tighter. So—basically, the pressure should keep your arms in shape even if they melt. Once they’re finished, the joints won’t let anything out, either.” He tapped a knob. “This will release the pressure, if it’s too tight, or if you want to take them off when you’re asleep. Releasing the pressure will reset the gauntlet, and you have to pull it again to get it to tighten. Ready to test it?”

“Ready.”

Novus held up the gauntlet, and Phoenix slipped his left hand into the contraption. The metal felt cold against his skin, like a cage. Novus had picked steel or copper bits to make the gauntlet rather than gold, but the shape and form of them still reminded him uncomfortably of Belos’ gloves.

No helping it, I guess.

Novus pulled the tab, and the metal shook and clicked, shifting and moving pieces out until it pushed against Phoenix’s arms, a light pressure that wasn’t too obtrusive, but Phoenix could still feel.

And it kept tightening.

“Uh… Novus?” Phoenix asked, “How tight is it supposed to get?”

Novus checked the top of the gauntlet. “Should cut off sometime soon, it’s just supposed to be a slight… pressure…”

Phoenix hissed in as the gauntlet started to dig into his skin. “Novus—it’s not stopping. It’s getting too tight, it’s—”

“Yep, yep, don’t panic, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Novus told him, but his voice took on a nervous tone. He twisted the knob, but nothing happened. “Oooooo okay, don’t worry, I probably just installed it backwards, let me just…” he twisted it the other way, but the glove just kept tightening. “Um—”

Novus tried to shove the pull string back into the glove to no avail. Phoenix bit his lip, hissing as the metal pushed through skin. He looked up at the ceiling, focusing on keeping his breathing even and his heart calm, despite the growing feeling that he was trapped. “Novus…”

“I’m trying!” Novus ran for a screwdriver, abandoning all pretense that the glove was going to work as it was supposed to and trying instead to dismantle it, prying at the shifting panels with the screwdriver. “I’m trying, I’ve got it—” the screwdriver caught and was flung out of his hand, and Novus tugged at the top of the glove. “Stop it, stop it—”

Phoenix’s free arm started to roil and shift into green mud, and through the unfinished joints of the glove, more cursed sludge started to drip, struggling to get free of its metal tomb. Phoenix’s arm screamed in pain, the metal so deep into his skin that he could barely see it anymore, and the glove still tightening, tightening, tightening. Phoenix ripped at the panels with his free hand, calm breathing forgotten and replaced with panicked bursts of breath. Novus tried to pull a panel off, but drew back, hissing and shaking his hand when he touched Phoenix’s cursed mud.

It's lashing out.

“Get it off—get it—”

“Hey, Phoenix,” Sam said from the door, “Uh, so—titan’s boney corpse!” The grimwalker rushed into the room, pacing an unhelpful and frantic circle around him. “Novus, what did you do?! It’s going to crush him!”

“Just help!” Novus yelled, grabbing a hammer, “Sorry, Phoenix!” He swung the hammer down on the metal, but it bounced off with a clang.

A howl tore out of Phoenix’s throat, and he pressed his arm to his stomach. “Stop—it—”

“Move,” Sam said firmly, and a paper touched Phoenix’s arm. It burst into flame, then froze, the sudden extreme temperature changes cracking the metal. Another paper sprouted roots that grew into the cracks created by the first glyph, tearing the gauntlet apart with vines.

“—look,” Phoenix heard Matt’s voice saying, “We’ll just take a quick look, and you’ll see, there’s nothing to worry about; it’s just Phoenix.”

“No,” Phoenix gasped, just before the door opened again, Ash and Matt behind it. Phoenix’s arms dripped both mud and blood, and the plants still grew in containment around his hurt arm.

Ash stared, then gagged, turning their face away.

“It’s not as bad as it looks!” Sam said quickly, “We just… sort of… had an… it was Novus’ fault!”

“HEY!”

“This is why,” Ash said in a shaky whisper, one hand pressed to their mouth, and their other arm pressed to their stomach, “This is why you shouldn’t mess with it. You can’t stop it. None of can.”

They whirled around and stalked off.

“Ash—” Matt started, “Aw, don’t—” he ran after them, letting the door swing shut.

Sam tore the vines off of Phoenix’s arm, pulling metal out with it. The curse throbbed and dripped, slowly moving itself back into its usual form now that it was free from its metal trap. “Oh, great. Really, most excellent thinking, Novus! What was your solution, exactly? To cut off his arms in order to get rid of it?”

“Shut up, Sam!” Novus ran a hand through his hair pacing around the room. “It wasn’t supposed to—it shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean for—it should have worked!”

He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

Sam blinked. “Uh.”

Phoenix sighed, wrapping his mangled sleeve around the cut in his arm. Now that the danger had passed, the mud settled back into flesh, leaving just the blood. “Sam.”

“I wasn’t—usually he shoots back! It’s—” Sam waved a hand around. “—it’s back and forth! Geeze.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut.  “I guess I should apologize? Don’t know what I did wrong, though.”

“I’m going to find him.”

“Of course you are. Stressors, remember, Phoenix.”

“I remember, Sam.”

Phoenix ran into Frank again in the kitchen. “Uh—”

“Ash went outside, Matt chased after them. Novus went into Jason’s room.”

“Jason’s room?”

“It’s occupied by some kids right now, and they’re usually running around outside, not in the room.”

“Thanks.”

Frank gave him a thumbs up. “Have fun.”

Phoenix stopped outside of Jason’s door, taking a deep breath.

You can do this.

He opened the door, and a metal bug skittered past him, quietly clicking with tiny gears. Books still lined available space, in neat stacks on the floor, or on the dresser, but there were signs of the children who lived her now, too, small shirts left on the floor, and a messy, unmade bed.

Ram sat next to Novus, winding up tiny metal animal toys that Novus handed them and letting them loose. Phoenix shut the door and carefully stepped over all the little creatures that moved around the floor. As he watched, Novus quietly twisted wires and gears together, this time creating a vague bird shape that hopped around when Ram wound it up, clicks occurring at the right time and a similar frequency to imitate chirps.

Phoenix sat down next to Novus. “Hey.”

A grunt in response. Ram ran after one of the toys that had stopped, winding it back up and releasing it again.

“I’m sorry,” Novus said shortly.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Phoenix replied quietly.

“Oh, yeah? Whose fault was it, then? I designed the gloves, I built them—I’m the only one to blame.”

“I know you weren’t trying to.”

“Maybe I was.” Novus rested his arms on his knees and his chin in his arms. “Nothing I ever built for Belos worked. My own staff, sure. The toys and traps? Those all worked fine. But everything I ever built for Belos jammed, or malfunctioned, or wouldn’t start at all. I thought maybe it was him—I thought he was messing them up on purpose. But maybe it was me. Maybe I messed them up on purpose when I built them. Maybe I messed up your glove because it was too close to building something for him.”

“Why?” Phoenix said quietly. He’d spent half his life struggling to always succeed, to be more than what Belos thought he could do, to prove that he could live up to the last golden guard’s legacy—and to avoid the punishment of failure. He couldn’t imagine deliberately failing.

“So that he couldn’t? I don’t know. I didn’t have magic. I thought I could make up for it with technology, but that never worked when I really needed it. And the one time I tried glyphs, tried to do magic like he could, I got a rope around the neck for it.” Novus sighed. “Sam can do these—these incredible things with glyphs, and I won’t be able to catch up to them in a million years with my machines.” He flicked away one of the little toys when it scrambled up to him, knocking it over on its back, where its legs kicked fruitlessly at the air. “And then when it really matters, when I think maybe I’ll be able to do something he can’t, I’m still useless.”

Phoenix gingerly picked up the toy, setting it right-side up and letting it run off. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“I nearly cut off your arm.”

“Hey, Frank’s doing fine with one.” Phoenix rubbed the makeshift bandage where his arm had been hurt. “I can’t draw glyphs and do amazing magic like Sam. I can’t make machines like you. Titan, I got told today that I need to sit pretty and do nothing if I don’t want to get eaten alive by this thing. If anyone around here is deadweight, it’s me.”

“You’re not—”

“I’m not looking for reassurances, Novus. I think right now, I’m causing more problems than I’m solving, but… I don’t know. I’m safe to be that way here. I’m not worried I’ll be kicked out. I’m actually more worried that they’ll try too hard to keep me and try to work around this even if it gets too dangerous. The point is, I guess… we’re all more than what we bring to the table. We don’t have to be useful to belong here. It took me a long time to figure that out. But… I think I’m finally starting to believe it. It doesn’t matter if we’re useless. They’ll love us anyway.” Phoenix picked up the little bird toy as it hopped up to him, then clicked to a stop. “And anyway, I think that this is pretty cool.”

“Me too,” Ram piped up.

Phoenix gestured. “There you go. And they can do magic and everything.” He offered Novus the windup toy. “Thanks for trying to help. It means a lot, even if it didn’t work. You didn’t have to.”

Novus took the bird with a small smile. “Yeah. Okay. You’re welcome. And… thanks.”

Phoenix stood up. “I think Sam’s ready to apologize for what he said, in case you see him.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Give him a chance.” Phoenix carefully stepped over the little toys on his way back out.

Okay.

Now what?

Matt ducked through the hallway, snatching up two concealment stones from their basket.

“Matt?” Phoenix called, “What’s up?”

“Hmmmmmmmmm, okay, well.” Matt hopped from one foot to the other. “Ash may have. Sort of. Gone past the barrier. And uh, did not take a concealment stone with them. So… they won’t be able to find the house again? And I don’t know where they went, because I came back inside for the concealment stones. I’ll find them. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want help finding them?”

“Not from you.”

Phoenix flinched, although he didn’t know why. He should have expected that.

“Ah. Oof. Wait, that sounded mean. It’s just the…” Matt rolled a hand. “…the spiraling panic attack of a grimwalker nearly killed by the curse you bear. You know how it is. Although…” Matt sized Phoenix up. “Actually, yes. I do want your help.”

Phoenix eyed him critically, suspicious of the sudden switch. “Really? You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“I want to get them back quick before anyone realizes they’re gone.” Matt handed Phoenix two concealment stones. “I’ll take the forest—that’s probably where they went. Everyone’s familiar with the forest. But just for peace of mind… could you check the cliffs?”

“The cliffs?” Phoenix echoed.

“Yeah—we’re located right around the third rib. Going towards the heart, it’s forest, but if you go around the other way…”

“It’s a drop off of the ribs and into the sea,” Phoenix finished, “Got it.” He’d never had any reason to go the other way—town was closer to the heart, and he’d never wondered what lay in the opposite direction.

Add it to the list of things I should have been more aware about.

“Be careful with your footing. We might be able to survive the boiling water—titan knows I did—but the fall will probably kill you first. And if you do see Ash, just… be careful, alright? They’re not… doing well.”

Phoenix nodded, slipping out the front door, but heading around behind the house.

Check for Ash

Come back

Does this count as ‘stressing myself?’

No. Of course not. It was just a quick hike. Ash probably wasn’t even this way—Matt seemed pretty sure they’d be in the forest.

Trees became few and far between as he walked, turning to dense brush, then thick grass, and then just… white bone. The sound of rushing waves hitting the bone thundered into Phoenix’s ears, covering up any other sounds. A path curved along the outside of the rib, and tilting his head up, Phoenix could see that it wound at least another fifty feet up, ending at a piece of the rib jutting out like an overlook.

“Only one way to go,” Phoenix said to himself, and started to climb. The path wasn’t wide, and his shoulder brushed the wall, but he could comfortably face forward and didn’t have to hug the wall to walk. He kept his eyes fixed on the path, refusing to look over the edge at the drop into the roaring water.

Okay.

It might be stressing now.

The path was easy, at least—not particularly steep or treacherous, save a patch of gravel here and there where he had to watch his footing. And for now, at least, it didn’t seem like the Collector’s spies had any interest in the path, although from up here, Phoenix could see them whirring over the forest. He wondered idly who maintained the road as he came to the top, reaching the overlook.

Ash sat with their legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, staring out at the ocean. “I don’t want to go back,” they said without looking back, “Thanks for coming, Matt, but I’m just going to stay up here forever.”

Up here, Phoenix could hear them, but even as high as they were, the sounds of the ocean still nearly drowned their words out.

“Um. It’s… not Matt.”

Ash’s shoulders locked up, but they still didn’t turn around. “Oh.”

“I’m… staying back,” Phoenix told them, “I won’t come close. Matt sent me. He… didn’t think you’d be up here.”

“That’s why I picked here, instead of somewhere he’d expect me,” Ash said, aggrieved.

“I have a concealment stone for you. For when you’re ready to come back.”

“I told you. I’m not going back.”

“What? Is it because of…”

“Yeah. I mean, doesn’t seem like it’s going away any time soon.”

“I’m keeping it under control,” Phoenix said quietly, gripping his wounded arm, “I know what you saw back there looked… bad, but we’re not—I’m not just messing around with it. I know it’s dangerous.”

Ash finally turned around at that, getting to their feet. Their shadow reached towards Phoenix, and the ocean view behind them rippled and shook, unsteady and stormy. “Do you? Do you actually? What’s the worst thing it ever did to you?”

Phoenix instinctively reached towards the scar on his head, then put his hand down. That wasn’t right anymore. Sure, there had been countless other ‘warnings’ and injuries that had come from Belos, but he’d always thought that had been the first one. The one he hadn’t been expecting. But that was a lie.

“A scar,” Ash replied bitterly, “That’s the worst it’s ever done, right?”

Phoenix’s ears pulled back, burning. “I think taking over my body and making my arms drip off my bones is a pretty bad one, too.”

Ash snorted. “Try drowning in it. Try struggling to breathe and feeling it slither into your mouth and nose and seize your lungs. Try your vision not going black, but green instead as you die. Try coughing it up for months—” their voice broke. “—afterwards and wondering if it would ever stop. Whatever you thought the worse case scenario would be if something went wrong, it is so, so much worse.”

Phoenix almost couldn’t breathe himself at the thought of it, no words in his mind to reply with.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

It wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. “I’m sorry” didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions he felt knowing what had happened to them. He gripped his arm tighter. “Ash, I…”

“Can you figure why I don’t want to share a dinner table with it?” Ash started to shake. “It’s like I can feel it in my lungs all over again. I cough, and I’m sure I’m going to spit out green mud again. I can’t go home. I can’t live knowing it’s right there.”

“You can’t stay out here,” Phoenix replied softly, “The Collector will find you.”

Ash laughed hysterically, repeatedly combing their hair with their fingers. “Would that really be worse? At least if I was a puppet, it would be peaceful.”

“Ash—” Phoenix took a deep breath. “Do you really want to leave home, or do you just not want to be around me?”

“You know the answer to that. I don’t want to abandon them. It’s not—it’s not fair. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to leave. And I know you don’t want to leave. It’s my problem—I’m the one who can’t stand the sight of it. So I need to be the one to go.”

Something about that struck something in Phoenix, tugging at the nagging discomfort with Evelyn planning behind his back.

 He sighed. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair. But it’s not fair that you have to leave, either. You want to stay with the family. I want to stay with the family. You leaving because you can’t stand this is—it’s a problem you shouldn’t have to go through alone. It’s a problem that involves both of us. We need to talk about it together, find a solution that works for everyone.”

And suddenly, that nagging discomfort pulled free, unraveling fully in his mind, and Phoenix realized exactly what had been bothering him.

But Ash was already shaking their head. “I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” They took a step back. “I can’t get used to it. I won’t ever be able to; there’s no solution we can come up with that will work besides one of us leaving. I can’t get—” they broke off coughing, and Phoenix wanted to reach out, to provide any kind of comfort, but he stood too far away, and he knew it would only make them worse if he tried.

“I promise I won’t let it hurt you,” he whispered fruitlessly, “I promise I wouldn’t hurt you—I know it’s hard to believe, but I am going to be different. I just need you to trust me for a little b—”

Ash coughed again, taking another step back.

Phoenix’s eyes widened, his mouth too slow to shout a warning for what he could already see about to happen.

Ash’s foot slipped on the edge of the cliff.

And they fell backwards towards the sea.

“ASH!”

Phoenix lunged forward, snatching for them. Too far away, too slow—he knew even as he reached that he wouldn’t catch them.

But something shifted in his arms. Something stretched. And his arms lengthened, turning to cursed mud, responding to his single-minded demand of save them.

Green claws grasped Ash’s arms, not breaking skin yet, but tight enough to make them wince and yelp in pain. Phoenix lay on his stomach at the top of the overlook, his arms stretching at least two feet beyond their usual length. He yowled at the strain, his arms seeming to pop out of their sockets, and through blurred, teary vision, he could see white bone, out of its usual place.

Ash gagged as cursed mud dripped from Phoenix’s arm to their face, and their face twisted in horror (as well as some disgust), but they gripped Phoenix’s arms back.

“Don’t let—” Ash gagged again. “Don’t let go!” they begged.

Blood started to run down Phoenix’s arm, the strain tearing open the tender wound from the gauntlet again. He blinked back tears of pain, struggling to pull Ash back up. He brought them up one, two inches, then dropped again, gasping from the exertion. Slowly, Ash’s weight started to pull him over the edge.

“Phoenix!”

Phoenix twisted his head around to see Evelyn at the path’s end, watching him with fear and uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She didn’t move forward, not even when Phoenix slid another couple of inches. Phoenix remembered her conversation, remembered how she’d looked at him when he’d brought Caleb back—and how it must look to her now.

“Help—them—” he grated out.

Evelyn shook her head as if to clear it and dashed forward, drawing a glyph in the dirt. Vines erupted from the ground, curling around Ash and dragging them back up the side of the cliff. Phoenix let go when they got to the top, and they launched themselves into Evelyn, shaking.

Phoenix backed up from the edge, leaning against the rib and closing his eyes. Exhaustion swept over him from his fingertips to his core.

Sorry… Sam… Guess I stressed myself.

He opened his eyes again to see the mud creeping back to him, picking itself up from the streaks it had left on the ground and forming back into his normal arms. His bones seemed to ache inside of him, stretched and worn. And, of course, his makeshift bandage around his injured arm was starting to become too soaked to be any use at this point.

Evelyn murmured something soft and gentle to Ash, and they nodded, trudging back down the path. They kept close to the wall now, eying the edge warily. Evelyn knelt down next to Phoenix.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hn,” was the only response he could manage.

“Are you okay?”

Phoenix lifted the hand of his uninjured arm, tilting it back and forth in a so-so gesture. “I’ll live,” he whispered hoarsely, “Ash?”

Evelyn winced. “I’ll have Auric make a dreamless sleep draught for them. And I think they’ve got a lot to consider right now. I guess both of us do.” She passed a hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Thank you. For saving them.”

“Did Matt tell you he was looking for them and sent me up this way?”

“What? No, I didn’t even know Ash was missing yet. I just saw you heading out past the fence.”

That was… surprising. “You followed me? Why?”

“You were headed towards the cliffs. I thought you might be about to… I just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened.”

“It almost did.” Phoenix toyed with the bandage around his arm. “Would have solved a lot of problems, huh?”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t going to help me for a second.”

“Of course I was, I just… Oh.” Evelyn groaned. “How much did you hear?”

“It’s smart to have a contingency plan. I think we should.” Phoenix pushed himself up to his feet, wobbling towards the path back down. “I just wish you’d talked to me about making one instead of planning it behind my back.”

“Phoenix, it’s not like that, it’s—okay, well, it’s a little like that, but I don’t want to hurt you. I really, really don’t. And if we can find a way to keep everyone safe—”

Phoenix turned around to face her, still fidgeting with his bandage. “It’s not about the plan, Evelyn, I told you, I think it’s smart to have one. Even if the plan is to kill me if necessary, I don’t care about that. The problem is that you’re making decisions about my life without including me. That even though this affects me the most, you’re not asking for my input. I get that it’s dangerous, but I…” his hand curled into a fist. “I don’t want to be treated like I can’t be trusted. Like I can’t make choices on what’s best for me and the rest of the family. I want to help you. I want to help find a way for everyone to live with this. You. Caleb. Ash. All of us. If that includes contingency plans for if I go rogue… well, I want to make those decisions now, when I’m still thinking clearly.”

“I… probably would feel better about backup plans if you agreed with them,” Evelyn admitted, “Phoenix, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way. I thought… I thought you’d be upset I didn’t trust you to control it. And… I think a part of me worried that if you knew I was making plans to deal with the worst case scenario, you might make your own to get around them.”

She sighed. “But of course you want to have some control over your life. Of course you should get to have that—we’ve always tried to give you guys that agency, and I’m sorry I pulled it away when you needed it most. We can talk it over—after we get home.”

“Thanks. That’s… all I really wanted.”

They walked down the path in silence, nothing but the tap of their footsteps. The Collector’s spies had moved on to their next patrol sector, and had stopped hovering over the forest. Phoenix wondered idly if Matt had gotten back yet.

The house seemed to buzz when they reached it, grimwalkers and refugees all casting nervous glances around at each other and pooling in the yard. Evelyn pushed through, creating a clear path for Phoenix behind her.

“What… is going…?” she murmured.

 “I’M GOING TO KILL HIM,” Sam’s voice yowled from inside.

Phoenix ran towards the lab, but Sam’s angry muttering spouted from the room next to it instead. His heart started to thump in his chest, each beat loud in his ears. He was already half-certain he knew what had happened, even as he pushed into the room, Evelyn on his heels.

Auric sat with Lake, pressing bandages to their shoulder. A bloody scalpel sat on the ground next to them. Caleb paced the room, hands behind his back, while Sam practically vibrated with angry energy, drawing ice glyphs for tiny cubes that he set in a bag, handing it to Locke, who sported a nasty bruise over one eye and looked a little groggy.

Petro’s chair sat empty, the shattered remains of stone vines surrounding it.

The mask was gone.

“I’m going to kill him,” Sam snarled again, “I’m going to track him down, catch him, and drag him back here, and then I’m going to RE-PETRIFY HIM!”

Evelyn looked to Caleb, who shook his head. “He got out,” he said quietly, confirming Phoenix’s fears, “Petro’s gone.”

[thedawningofthehour]

Thinking of a Skyrim/general fantasy AU to sate my need to replay Skyrim when I can't currently run it on my computer.

-Splinter is the Jarl, may or may not still be a rat, I haven't decided.

-Raph is his housecarl and heir, always at his father's side, with a giant warhammer strapped to his back. (which he has never actually needed for combat, it's incredibly intimidating and Raph can dispatch pretty much anything with his fists)

-April is housecarl 2 and wields a crossbow and a kickass war axe with a magicka damage enchantment.

-Leo is his steward and captain of the hold guard and also secretly a spymaster kind of person, and a lot of people think he'd make a better jarl than Raph. He likes sticking to the advisor role though, the fancy chair isn't worth it. Skilled in one-handed and wields a sword, later dual-wields with fire and ice enchanted blades.

-Draxum is Splinter's court mage and loathes his court duties. He just wants to be left alone and be weird. He and Splinter absolutely hate each other and will avoid working together at all costs. They even time their meals so they're not in the hall at the same time.

-Donnie is supposed to be Draxum's apprentice and learning magic and alchemy under him. (Draxum requested him and Splinter agreed because he has too many heirs and he'd love to replace Draxum with one of his own sons-no one actually, like, consulted Donnie first) What actually happens is he pays attention to the lessons he cares about and then sneaks away to read or invent shit like medieval water heaters. Or just wanders around outside studying flora without telling anyone where he's going for several days. Wields an enchanted battlestaff with either an absorb health or paralyze enchantment.

-Mikey is training under Leo to take over as steward, because Leo is busy enough, and taking magic lessons from Draxum as well. He does pretty well with the public relations aspect of the job and even with managing supplies and logistics, but he struggles with bookkeeping and usually has someone check over the accounts to ensure his math is right. Uses a fire-enchanted bow and occasionally joins Donnie to wander through the countryside and pick flowers. Splinter has sent out troops to search for them/rescue them from bandits more than once. (they have never once needed rescuing)

[snaillamp]

Lantern Man

Enjar lifted the surfboard from the water, wading back into shore. He had spent the afternoon catching waves on the beach nearby, enjoying the summer warmth, if you could even call it that. He shivered, his thick wetsuit still not shielding him entirely from the cold bite of the ocean.

Looking up at the cloudless afternoon, he admired the deep cobalt blue of the sky. Wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, he flicked his hair out of his face before hiking the short trail back up to the car. Strapping his board up, he jumped in the driver’s seat, turning on the engine and reversing out onto the small trail leading home. Turning up the heater, he blasted warm air on his face.

The wind picked up as he drove, buffeting the car. It howled around him as he grinned, it was amazing how fast the weather could turn up here, he would never be quite used to it. As he parked beside the lighthouse, he grabbed the radio, the object he always took everywhere with him, before unpacking everything from his day.

He finally made it back inside, hurrying to his bathroom for a hot shower. The wind, despite being a warm summer breeze before had turned into a cooler, stronger gale.

~~

When he finished his shower, he shrugged on a jacket and walked to the small desk in his bedroom. It was huddled away in the corner, most people wouldn’t even notice it, but on top lay a computer and a small monitor, kept company by a few nick nacks: sea glass, cool rocks, some feathers, just fun things collected by all keepers over the years.

Enjar slid into the stiff chair and logged on, staring at the computer screen. He checked the maps and weather forecast, clear night, no need to turn the light on yet. It looked like it would be quite windy tomorrow though. He checked coast guard reports, before sighing and clicking off.

He was happy, on one hand nights like this were nice. He didn’t often get time to be lazy, but on the other hand, he didn't like being lazy either. Standing from the chair, he yawned, deciding to go outside. The wind had died down enough that he could sit outside with a drink and enjoy the peaceful evening.

Walking to his fridge he grabbed a ginger beer, cracking it open and taking a long sip. The cool, refreshing liquid bubbled on his tongue as he savoured the slight burn of the ginger. Reaching into his pantry, he grabbed a bag of potato chips, a treat he only afforded himself on relaxing nights like this. Grabbing a chair, he dragged it outside and sat a way aways form the cliff edge. Watching the sun set on the horizon, he smiled, remembering the stories the former keeper, and his mentor, Johaan would tell him.

The short man, who looked like Santa if he had taken up residence in a lighthouse, patted his gut, leaning back with a chuckle. His red cheeks, flushed from the already large amount of whiskey he consumed would crease as he smiled, regaling stories of shipwrecks and myths.

Enjar’s favourite had been the story of the Lantern Man.

“You know, boy, there’s a reason you don’t run along these cliffs here, see.” The fat, stubby finger of the lighthouse keeper would trace along the cliff edge. “You see, there was a man, once. He was an old keeper, like ourselves, years and years ago. Over 100, but no one knows completely for sure. The story goes that he was always rushing around, too brave for his own good.”

Johaan took another large swig of whiskey, coughed a little and continued. “People always told him, ‘Boy! You mustn’t run along the cliffs. Take your time of the cliffs will take you!’ and he would laugh in their faces, saying that he had work to do and that he would be careful.

One day a freak storm washed over the area, largest that had happened in living memory. The waves were so tall they could reach the balcony of the tower.” The man would scoffed into his glass, pouring another serving of booze. “I call bull on that part, aye?”

Enjar nodded, grinning at the absurdity of the claim. The cliffs were quite high, and he had only seen large waves reach high enough to barely brush half of the ancient stone. “Course, the keeper didn’t listen, or there’d be no story!” Johaan cackled loudly, before continuing.

“Well that night, the wind was blowing hard, and he was coming home from the tavern in his big leather coat. This was before them motor cars and shit so he would just grab his big storm lantern and walk along the cliff edge to find his way home. Course, that was dangerous, but he didn’t care none.” He would sip his booze thoughtfully, going distant.

“Anyway, story goes he was running along home, when he slipped and tumbled from the cliff, plunging into the sea and rocks below. Some say the waves actually grabbed him straight off the edge! Anyway, he was swallowed up by the ocean, never to be seen again.

Years later, the new keeper was in a rush one foggy night, presumably in a similar situation to the first one. He was running along the cliff line when he saw a light glimmering in the distance.”

The old keeper glanced at Enjar, leaning back in his chair and listening intently, and grinned a toothy grin.

“The man kept running along the cliff line, ’n the light was getting closer an closer, yeah? He swears he hears the creaking of a rusty storm lantern as he nears it. When he finally reached the spot he thought it was, he looks up and it’s gone. The wind is howling and he’s looking for this light, before he feels a hand grab his shoulder and rip him from the cliff edge.”

Enjar’s eyes would widen, as he smiled at the ghost story. “Well the poor young keeper practically jumps out of his skin when he looks at the cold, wet, grey hand gripping his shoulder. He glances around to see the face of a drowned man staring at him, holding the storm lantern aloft, before the figure turns around and disappears into the mist...

Since then, people have sworn on their life that they seen a man, walking along the cliffs, holding a lantern aloft. Some say its the keeper, walking along with his light to protect others from the same fate, others say he’s there as punishment, forced to walk along the cliff edge, taking his time but never making it home.”

They sat in solemn silence for a second before the man would cackle. “Nah, I think it’s bullshit, mostly it anyway. But I won’t say it ain’t all real. All stories are based in a little bit of truth, aye, Enjar?”

Enjar nodded, ruminating on the point made by the old man until one day he couldn’t resist any longer.

“Have you ever seen him? The Lantern Man?”

Johaan, always the easy, laidback man, suddenly went very still. Turning slowly, he nodded, holding up a finger. “Once... I was walking along the edge, looking for yacht that had reportedly run aground one the rocks. It was misty and cold, and in the wind I swore I could hear the creak of a lantern.

I brushed it off, assuming it was my imagination... Then in front of me I see a light, small, yellow and shrouded in mist. When I get closer, I see something, the outline of a figure pointing down the ways, silent as anything, before it turned and walked into the dark.

Turned out where it had been pointing was the direction of the yacht. The people down there swore they saw a light on the cliff edge, watching it wander along before tumbling off the cliff. Coast guard and I looked the next morning couldn’t find anything… I don’t believe the whole story, but I believe every story has a bit of truth. They exist for a reason, hmm?”

The old an shuffled, his voice growing stern as he waggled the finger at Enjar. “And you’d be in good mind to heed the warning. Ain’t nothing on them cliffs worth your life, aye?” Enjar nodded, slightly alarmed at the sudden shift in tone. The keeper nodded at him and had continued his day like nothing happened. Enajr had always kept an eye out after that… Just in case.

He shivered, realising that the sun was pretty much set and the cold wind was picking up again. Going back inside, he glanced along the cliff line for a second, before shutting the door and getting ready for dinner.

~~

Enjar had just tucked himself into bed, getting comfy when he heard the radio chatter to life in the next room. Groaning in annoyance, he got out of bed and shuffled across the cabin to the small radio perched beside the front door. “Tower 4 do you copy? This is Base, Tower 4, do you copy?”

“Tower 4 receiving. What’s up?” Enjar spoke, sleepily mumbling as he rubbed his eyes. He stifled a yawn.

“Yeah, do you see that flare? Should be west of you.”

Enjar frowned, grabbing the radio and some binoculars before shuffling outside. In the dark, he could see a red flame drifting slowly towards the sea.

“Yeah, I see it.” He replied, lifting the binoculars to his eyes. There wasn’t much he could see in the dark.

“Want me to check it out?”

“Not right now, Tower 4. But, uh, just stick around, we may need your help if we send out a rescue party. You know the fastest route to get there?"

“Yeah, follow the cliff from the lighthouse, shouldn't take more than an hour from where you are.”

“Copy, Tower 4. Base over and out.”

Enjar was feeling a little more awake now, the adrenaline starting to kick in. He traced the illuminated trail of smoke to the side of the cliff, frowning. He knew there were lots of climbers around these parts in summer, the cliff faces were perfect for it, but at this time of night? The person must be nuts. “Well, that makes the flare make sense.” He muttered, going back inside.

He began to prepare, changing into his climbing gear and loading the car with his rope. He too enjoyed climbing, even if he spent most of his time dangling from the tower, doing maintenance on it instead of the cliff faces. His radio crackled to life.

“Base to Tower 4? Do you copy?”

“Tower 4 receiving.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to to check out Klintro Point. Just got a PLB signal. Can you get there?”

“Klintro? Yeah, that shouldn’t take me long. I’ll be over in 10 minutes. Tower 4 out.”

“Be careful, Enjar. Base over and out.”

~~

As he drove over the rocky trails, Enjar glanced towards the cliffs. The flare had faded, but he knew where he was going. Rounding the corner, he spied an SUV, parked between the trees. Screeching to a halt, Enjar jumped from his car, examining the abandoned vehicle.

It was dark and empty, doors locked. Looking inside he couldn’t see anything, his eyes unable to make anything out in the dark.

“Hello?” He called out as the wind blew harder. “Do you need help?” He called into wind, but it snatched his words and carried them away. Grabbing a torch from his kit, he scanned the surrounding area, catching a faint trail in the corner of his eye.

Following it a little way, he finally came across a boulder jutting out of the ground a few metres from the abdanodned SUV. Wrapped firmly around it was rope, pulled taught. Following it along to the cliff edge, being careful not to fall, Enjar peeked over and spotted a man, dangling from the ropes. “Hey!” He called down to him, his voice breaking with strain.

The man below him looked up, yelling back. “Down here! Help!” Enjar squinted down in to the dark, trying to get a good view. “What’s wrong?!”

“I’m tangled in my ropes! My shoulder… my arm… I think they’re broken!”

“Hold tight! Help is coming!” Enjar moved from the edge, the wind buffeting his body as he staggered against it. As he opened the door of his car, it was ripped from his hand, flying open. Jumping in, he grabbed the door with both hands and grunted as he pulled it shut.

When it finally did shut he was shivering, the cold wind chilling him to his bones. With shaking hands he grabbed the radio from his belt and spoke into it.

“Tower 4 to Base, do you read me?”A tense moment of silence, with the exception of the howling wind filled the air, thick with tension.

“Base to Tower 4. We read you. What's the situation?”

“I’m at the site, there’s a climber, his arm is broken and he can’t climb up. He’s tangled in his ropes… I can try and get down to get him free.”

“Negative Tower 4, we can’t ask you to put yourself at risk like that. Wait for backup and monitor the situa-”

A scream ripped through the air, cutting through even the wind. Enjar jumped from the car running towards the cliff as he saw the backup rope go taught. The first rope had snapped completely.

“The rope is snapping, I have to go down!” Enjar yelled into the radio.

“Tower 4 it’s too dangerous!”

“Screw this.” Enjar whispered as he hooked the radio into his belt, rushing to his supplies and slipping on his harness and a headlamp. He grabbed a length of rope, before running to cliff, looking for an anchor point anywhere. Spotting a large tree a little way back, he tied the rope around it, making sure it was secure. The wind had died down a little, but it was still strong, being exposed on the cliff like that was going to be dangerous.

Attaching himself to his line, he walked to the edge of the cliff. “Base to Tower 4, respond.”

Enjar grabbed the radio, holding it in his shivering hands. He wasn’t in warm clothes and the weather was only getting worse again.

“Tower 4, I hear you loud and clear.”

The voice of the manager at Base cut through the wind. “Enjar, listen to me. Don’t risk your life for this. Wait for help.” At the same time, the man screamed again, the rope jerking as he dropped a little.

“His rope is giving out, I’m not going to sit around and watch him die!” Enjar growled into the radio, reattaching it to his belt. “Enjar please…”

Ignoring the pleas of the manager he muted the radio, then slid down the smooth, wind swept cliff to the man. He was pale, shaking. Enajr glanced around at the ropes, looking at the mess i were in. The man’s forearm was caught in a tangle of rope that had been pulled tight. It was pale, no blood getting through and it was bent at a strange angle, hanging from his shoulder in a strange way.

“Hey, I’m Enjar. Hold till for me okay?” Enjar yelled into the screaming wind. The man looked up at him with teary eyes, “Andre”. He looked terrified. “Cut me free, please! I’ve been here for hours! I don’t want to die!” He cried wriggling in the rope. “Okay, Andre, hold still!” Enjar reached for the good arm, grabbing it and pulling the man close, hooking him up to his own rig. “If I cut you free, you’ll die anyway! Hold still!” He pulled the shaking man against his body.

Enjar watched the man’s eyes go wide. “Wait, why won’t you cut me out?!” He screamed into Enjar’s ear, hurting his ear drum. “Crush syndrome.” Examining the tangle, he pursed his lips. This was going to be hard. If he carried the man up, the ropes might loosen and then… The man wriggled against him, the carabiner brushing against a belt. Enjar looked down at Andre's waist. “Hey. I need your belt!” Andre looked at him strangely. “Why?” Enjar grimaced before looking at him, slightly frustrated. “Tourniquet!”

Andre leaned back a little as Enjar fiddled with the clasp of his belt, pulling it free. He reached up and wrapped it tightly around Andre’s arm pulling it as tight as he could. “Ow, ow stop!” Andre screamed, but Enjar kept pulling until it was secure. Fastening the belt as best he could he checked it, it seemed to be tight enough. Looking to Andre he nodded.

“I’ve got you! Hold tight.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small pocket knife. Trust his stupid head to bring a knife but not a first aid kit. He reached to the tangle of rope and began sawing at it. Andre began to scream and kick again.

“Stop moving, your ropes will give!” Enjar yelled as his tried to calm Andre, who looked at him in fear. The wind died down for a second. “Am I gonna die, Enjar?” Enjar shook his head, resuming sawing at the rope. “I won’t let that happen.”

As the wind picked up again, the ropes came free and Andre’s arm dropped heavily against his side. It has hanging from the shoulder joint at a strange angle. Andre screamed in pain as Enjar checked the belt. It was still tight. At that moment, Andre’s backup rope snapped, causing him to jerk downwards, before Enjar’s hand caught him. Andre screamed again.

“Andre, look at me!” Enjar pulled him close to his face. “You’re attached to me, you can’t fall. I have to climb up but I can’t do that unless you stay still okay? Conserve your strength.”

The wind masked a crumbling sound, only heard at the last second by both men. The rock that Andre had used as an anchor point tilted and cracked, breaking from the cliff and tumbling towards them. Enjar and Andre both jumped sideways, their feet pushing off the cliff face as they swung clear of the falling rock. But what they couldn’t dodge was the quickly approaching cliff as they swung back towards it... fast. The thought flashed through his mind the second before he hit the wall. ‘Shit, no helmet.’

Enjar felt his right shoulder smash against the stone, before the weight of Andre followed, throwing him into the wall even more.

His head cracked against the stone and everything went black.

~~

When he awoke, the world was spinning and his head was pounding. Warm blood was pouring down his face. Enjar groaned, wiping it with his arm before looking over his shoulder. Andre seemed to have passed out. “Shit. Andre!” He called out to the man, the sound of his voice hurting his head. Shaking the limp man, he checked the tourniquet, it seems to be working, but Andre was ice cold. Probably hypothermic. Shaking him, Enjar couldn’t seem to make him wake up.

Checking himself over, Enjar was relieved to feel the headlamp still on his face. It hadn’t occurred to him that it was the reason he could still see until he felt it with his hand. The wind was less strong, but still whipping around them, chilling him to the bone. With a shiver, he glanced down to the bottom of the cliff, noticing the jagged rocks and swirling ocean below. “And it was such a nice summer afternoon.” He mumbled, looking up again.

They weren’t too far from the top, Enjar could probably carry them to the top. That was when he saw the rope sag and begin to fray. “Shit.” The wind had been swinging them against the sharp rocks… His rope was being sliced to bits by the sharp rocks above.

Desperately grabbing at the smooth cliff face, Enjar’s fingers found purchase on a small rut. He gripped it, pulling himself up and feeling for something else to grab. Working his way up the cliff, he grew nearer and nearer to the top, but as the rope seemed to be getting weaker and weaker, he was too. His hurt shoulder was screaming in pain with every movement.

They were so close to the top and Enjar felt his muscles burn as he reached up for another grip. His arms felt like jelly as they shook, trying to grip onto something. His fingers curled around a small knob and he pulled up again, feeling the muscles under his arms strain. His legs burned as he barely managed to push up.

“Just a few more to go…” He gasped, reaching for another grip. The wind buffeted them as Andre suddenly jerked awake. He immediately began to thrash in panic as he tried to figure out where he was. “Hey!” Enjar barked, causing him to look up. “You’re okay, I’m climbing up, just stay still.” Andre shook. ‘Best not tell him about our… predicament…’ Enjar thought as he grunted, pulling himself up the wall again. After a few seconds, he looked up, panting. They were so, so close. Glancing at the rope, he grimaced. They could make it. They had to…

Enjar’s fingers closed around the top of the cliff as his feet searched for anything to push off of. He had grabbed the rock with his bad arm, his shoulder aching as the rocks sliced at his skin with every movement. He tried, couldn’tfind the strength to pull himself and Andre up. Eyeing the tantalisingly slowly fraying rope, he grunted in pain.

He tried to push against the wall but his feet slipped, the sudden movement causing the rope to finally break, the excess length dropping into the dark below them. Somehow, with all the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Enjar managed to get a grip on a rock, holding them up as the rope gave out. He cried out in pain as Andre went stiff with fear, before murmuring into the wind, something Enjar could barely hear. “It snapped didn’t it. We’re going to die…”

“Not if I have anything to do with it!” Enjar grunted, barely able to speak and grip onto the rock, his shoulder shaking as it threatened to break too. His other hand managed reach up and grip the grass as they hung from the edge, his fingers slowly slipping from the rock. His shoulder ached as it threatened to tear from the weight it was holding.

Enjar’s eyes grew wide as something cold and wet slid around his wrists, giving him a slight tug. With a sudden surge of energy, he kicked and managed to pull himself up a little. His fingers brushed the rope that was still attached to the tree and he grasped it tight, wrapping it around his hand and pulling himself up. He crawled forwards, hoisting Andre over the edge, before he dragged them both on his hands and knees away from the edge of the cliff.

Panting, Enjar collapsed into the dirt lay there for a second, before he pushed himself up onto his weak, shaking knees. He unclipped himself from his harness before he staggered over to his car to grab the first aid kit. Returning to Andre, who was still splayed on the ground and breathing heavily, Enjar wrapped an actual tourniquet around Andre's arm, pulling it tight before removing the belt. As he undid it, he bit his lip, the belt had come a little loose in the climb.

Andre gasped in pain as he sat up, looking at his arm. He compared it to his undamaged one and then began to cry. “Will I loose it?” He asked through sobs as the wind picked up again. Enjar shook his head, “I don’t know…” He stopped suddenly as Andre wrapped his good arm around Enjar’s body, sobbing into his shoulder. “Th-th-ank you…” He babbled as Enjar grimaced, tensing up. His shoulder hurt so much, now the adrenaline was no longer able to mask it.

Securing Andre’s arm in a sling, Enjar packed up the first aid kit and took it back to his car. He could barely stand at this point, his energy and strength all but drained. As he closed the car door, he felt strange, like something was watching him. Turning around, he looked into the darkness, listening to the howling wind. He could have sworn he heard a slight, rusted squeak. Looking around, he spotted nothing. “Must be the adrenaline…” He mumbled, staggering back to Andre and sinking to his knees. He felt his eyes sliding shut as he fainted on the cold, wet grass.

~~

A blinding light broke into his mind as he was shaken awake. Maria, a coast guard was shining her light directly in his face. “He’s awake!” She called out, looking over to someone else. The clearing was engulfed in the lights of coast guard vehicles, people milling around them. Groaning as he sat up, he shielded his eyes, only for Maria to grab the arm he was using and wrap it over her shoulders and help him stand.

A white hot pain ripped through him.

“AH! Stop!” He cried out, collapsing to the ground. Maria frowned. She gently pulled him up by his other arm and guided him to a flashing van, sitting him in the seat as another coastguard checked him over. “What happened to you two? That guy was completely mangled and you...” Maria asked, looking at him in concern.

“I managed to get us both up before my rope snapped…” Enjar whispered through heaving breaths, as let his head fall back against the car seat. A coast guard came over and prodded his shoulder, causing him to wince. “I don’t like that. You need an X-ray.” He mumbled to Enjar, who tensed up. “Come on, I know what you’re like. I’m driving you in.”

The guard slid a sling around Enajar’s arm and clicked the seatbelt in before he could find the energy to protest. The door slammed shut as he lay back against the seat, feeling drained. Maria sat in the back with him and kept patching him up on the drive in, checking his head would before cleaning it with a damp wad of gauze. During the drive , Enjar felt his eyes begin to slide shut and before long, he was slumped against Maria’s shoulder, fast asleep. He awoke to a sharp jolt and the sound of the car’s breaks screeching as they were thrown forward.

“Shit. Idiot!” The driver yelled as Enjar and Maria glanced out the windscreen. The wind howled as they both leaned forward, looking puzzled at what was in front of them.

Inches from the hood of the car, a man in a thick, soaked, leather coat stood, holding an old fashioned storm lantern aloft. His skin was a washed out grey, and he almost glowed in the reflection of the headlights. His long, dripping beard didn’t seem to blow in the howling wind as his piercing eyes stared at the occupants of the vehicle for a moment, before he nodded once and walked off into the dark.

“Damn hunters walking around at night in black. What, does he want to get hit?” The driver complained. "Weird, it hasn't rained, why was he so wet?" Maria mumbled as they drove off.

Enjar glanced around and watched the light bobbing in the distance, before it seemed to stop, near where the cliff edge would be and blink out… he knew why…

That was no hunter.

~masterlist~

[abimee]

in my mind whenever i draw althaea and themis in modern day clothes all i can think about is althaea babysitting themis at her place which is a wooden panelling trailer house in the woods and themis walks in and immediately finds hythlo sitting at the big clunky computer playing desktop solitaire (with the spider) in a white tank and pajama bottoms with a homemade ash tray to the side of the double decker walmart desktop table, turn to the right and the open kitchen with a yellow fridge one of those wall-attached island bars, trun BACK around because the computer is in the living room where a subwoofer system is hooked up to the TV which is surrounded by identical leather couches and a singular lazyboy, with a bean bag and some blankets thrown on the floor in case you wanna sit at the only ''kitchen table'' in the house which is the low as hell coffee table in pristine condition

take the tight hallway to the right and althaea's room is a doorless little square room with one of those vertical near the ceiling windows open with a metal latch (did i mention the entire house besides bathroom and kitchen is covered in white carpet), a mattress on a low walmart frame, a singular CRT TV on a plastic tub, and a closet that takes up an entire wall made with shitty wood that rolls inside of itself and houses all of althaeas clothes and the fuse box. and when you go farther you find the bathroom which is a shitty toilet knee-knockingly close to the sink directly across from it, a singular cabinet that doubles as the mirror, a low bathtub, and a random bar to the side that has all their deoderants and makeup products (and another homemade ash tray) filed on top)

to the other side of the house is the door to the down stairs, which is an entire concrete dungeon that keeps the boiler, the heater, the washer and dryer and every single stored away holiday decoration, scrapbooks, luggages, and their bikes. no window besides a small one once again near the roof.

althaea teaches themis how to make 2006-era slime (putting flour and water in a zip loc black and playing with it through the bag until it became nothing but paste), LOUDLY play pocketful of sunshine by natasha bettingfield, and go outside to randomly build the bridge to terabithia with the work tools kept in the basement and random shaved planks of wood and log halves piled in the wood shed (where she also parks her car)

you have to end this all off with the fact that althaea would be wearing a black spaghetti strap tank top with low rise, skinny flare jeans bedazzled on the pockets with a beaten up brown leather belt and shitty pink flip flops, and themis stands there in a blazed WAFFLE KNIT Ed Hardy shirt that was hand bedazzled with those old weird toys that just basically pierced your shirts with 5 cent jewels that are originally meant for your hair but you found out the contraption is literally just that it has 4 metal tiangle spikes that the machine ''pinches'' down to attack to things, which works really good on shirts. get bejeweled asshole

[weird-kid-maxx]

Hypothermia (My Babysitter's A Vampire)

Platonic! Jane Morgan X Platonic! Benny Weir; Platonic! Jane Morgan X Platonic/Acquaintance Jesse Black.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Summary: Ethan, benny, Jane, Sarah, Rory, Erica, and Jesse are at Lake Ontario, having fun, when Jane falls through the ice. Jesse rescues her, and from that point on, he seems to have redeemed himself to Ethan adn the gang for saving Jane's life, and Jane is a little closer than she used to be.

Strictly all platonic.

Third Person

It was winter in Whitechapel and Ethan, Jane, and Benny were at Lake Ontario with Sarah and the undead gang, having a field day (though Jesse was dragged there by Erica, because Erica forced Jesse to "be sociable" for once). Benny and Ethan were trying to build a snowman, Jane and Rory were having a furious snowball fight (though Rory was careful not to use his vampire strength), and Sarah, Erica, and Jesse were in Benny's grandma's 1960 VW bus. Benny was surprised his grandma even had one, but his grandma claimed that she "did used to be a hippy." Whatever, Benny thinks. It was warm, and it worked in the snow thanks to Grandma, and so it worked.

"I'm going on the ice!" Jane yelled. "Wait, no!" Ethan yelled, dropping his big snowball. "It might be thin! Jane!" He yelled as she ignored him, strapping her ice skates on and sliding out. "Let her have fun," Jesse remarked, sighing. "She's only a kid once, you know." "The ice--" "Is fine," Sarah said firmly, putting her gloves on. "Now let me help you guys, please. I can't sit here with Erica and Kid Darkness anymore." Jesse gave her an offended look as she stood. "I am not--" "Yes, you are." Erica said, patting his arm. "But that's okay."

"What--" Meanwhile, Jane was struggling. She'd never been ice skating before and finally convinced her mother to buy her skates this Christmas, and now she could use them! She giggled, then squealed as she fell over. "Dang it," She muttered, slipping and sliding to her feet. "Jane!" Rory yelled. "You wanna know what I learned?" "Not to be an idiot?" Erica mumbled. Ignoring her, Rory yelled, "Think of it as roller-skating, right? One foot in front of the other." Jane frowned, slowly placing one foot in front of the other, then moving the next, back and forth, and smiled. "Cool!" She yelled, then promptly slipped and fell on her butt. "Well, she tried." Benny said as he packed in the middle of the snowman. "At least she's having fun," Erica snapped.

Jane heard something snap. She looked up from examining her bruised knee, frowning. "What was that?" She called, but now she was too far from the shore for her human brothers to hear her, and the vampires weren't paying attention. When she stood again, trying not to let her feet slip from under her, she heard the crack again, sort of like tiny, tiny firecrackers. Wait, no! It might be thin! Her brother's voice echoed in her head. She stood completely still, heart pounding, breath heavy. Was the ice cracking? "Ethan." She called, voice shaking. Crack. Snap. Craackk, snap!

"Ethan!" Jane shouted, voice wobbly. "The ice!" She shouted just as the ice gave a horrible, loud SNAP and exploded. Her scream echoed across the lake as her body was submerged.

Jesse was the first one on his feet, slipping and sliding across the ice as Benny ran to the van, cranking the heater and Rory and Ethan digging for blankets. Erica raced after Jesse, who was already by the hole in the ice and sliding in the water.

He didn't need to breathe, but when he touched the freezing water, he almost inhaled in shock at the cold. He forced himself to remain breathless, seeing Jane a few feet away, slamming at the bottom of the ice, eyes wide. He swam to her quickly, grabbing her around the waist and using his vampire strength to bust a new hole in the ice. Erica grasped Jane's arms, pulling her up, and Sarah grabbed Jesse, who was barely shaking compared to Jane. She was shaking, teeth chattering, and her teeth slammed into her lip, making it bleed. Jesse flinched at the smell, but forced himself to pick Jane up, speeding to the van.

"Under here!" Benny shouted, peeling back a nest of blankets. Jesse slid Jane under the blankets, and Erica and Sarah forced the boys from the van so they could get Jane in something warm. As they waited, the human boys shivering, Ethan was mumbling, "Mom's gonna kill me, your grandma's gonna kill me, is she okay?" "She's fine." Jesse grunted. "We got her warm before she had a chance to freeze." He glared at Ethan's skeptical look. "You think just because I'm a vampire that I wasn't human once or something?" "N-no." Ethan mumbled as the van door slid open. "We're good, let's go back." Erica said, and the boys clambered in.

On the way home, Jane was shivering really bad. Now, vampires don't really give off heat, but Jane went red (or, more redder than she was) and slightly scooted over, pressing her arm to Jesse's. He blinked, surprised, as her eyes fluttered, and her head dropped onto his shoulder. "Um, should she sleep?" Benny asked from the front. "No. Hey." Jesse nudged her with his shoulder, and she blinked, eyes hazy. "What?" She asked. "Don't fall asleep." Sarah called from the driver's seat. "I'm tired," Jane whined. "I know, but it won't be good." Erica tucked the blanket back around her shivering body, and Jane hummed, curling into Jesse's coat. He blinked, and one of his arms went over her shoulder. "Warm," She muttered, and he sighed, "Yeah, I've been told that." His eyes caught Sarah's, and she coughed, "We're here. Jesse--" "Got it."

"What happened?" Samantha Morgan asked worriedly, sitting on the couch with Ross, as the group came in, Jesse carrying Jane. "Jane fell through the ice, but Jesse pulled her out," Ethan reassured his parents as Erica and Rory led Jesse to Jane's room. Jesse tucked Jane into her bed, and Erica said, "I can stay with her." "Okay."

*Time Skip*

Jane must've fallen asleep, because she woke up in her room, alone. She frowned. "Ethan?" She called. Nothing. "Ethannn!" She yelled even louder. Still nothing. She sighed, swinging her legs off the bed. She groaned as her head spun, legs tingling, but forced herself to get up, moving to her door. She opened it, looking down the hall. Nothing. She stepped to the stairs, descending slowly, and saw Jesse, asleep, on the sofa, head leaned back into the cushions, a random sitcom playing on the TV.

She turned to the hall, grabbing a blanket. She knew vampires didn't really feel cold or hot, but she figured he'd appreciate the gesture. She crept to the sofa, carefully trying to put the blanket on Jesse without waking him up, but then he groaned, eyes fluttering open, and she froze, blanket in her fists. "Um. Hi." She said carefully, eyes wide. He blinked, dark eyes taking in the blanket. "I don't really get cold," He said, voice raspy. "I know. But..." She hesitated, lowering her hands. "You helped me earlier. Like, saved my life. And, obviously, you're not in danger, but I figured I'd do something nice, and now I realize it was dumb--" She ranted. "Jane, breathe. This is very sweet, thank you." He smiled, taking the blanket, then scooted over, eyebrows raised. "Wanna watch TV?" "Sure." She sat on the sofa, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, sighing. "Thank you. I don't know if I ever said that earlier." Jane whispered. "No, you didn't. But you're welcome." He grinned. When they came back from the store, Ethan, Rory, Benny, Erica, and Sarah smiled softly, seeing Jane curled up to Jesse on the sofa, both asleep. "Softie," Benny snarked, giggling. "Oh, leave them alone." Sarah rolled her eyes. "And let's go make dinner, okay?" "Sure." Ethan said. He was glad Jane found a friend, even if it was their old enemy.

[agp]

hey if youre on turtle island or still tuesday and feel like trying a quick silly browser game you should check out tradle. (i think it updates at midnight based on time zones?) todays is real fun i prommy.

you get five guesses to figure out a country from its export data, and after each guess they tell you how far away you are and what direction the county youre looking for is. i know it sounds like a ridiculous challenge but this one has a bunch of easy hints and giveaways that are accessible to your average westerner

if its wednesday by now or you want to see the data presented differently check out this silly economy under the cut (bolded 'spoilers' ig)

total export value: 371b (usd)

gold: 86.7b (23%}

packaged meds: 48.5b (13%)

vaccines, blood, cultures, etc: 40.3b (11%)

base metal watches: 15.2b (4%)

nitrogen heterocyclic compounds: 14.2b (4%)

jewlery: 9.35b (2.5%)

precious metal watches: 8.97b (2.5%)

orthopedic appliances: 7.02b (2%)

hormones: 3.38b

coffee: 3.36b

electricity: 3.19b

medical instruments: 3.09b

machinery w indv functions: 3.04b

platinum: 2.54b

chemical analysis instruments: 2.27b

nucleic acids: 2.17b

valves: 2.17b

silver: 2.01b

electric motors: 1.78b

scented mixtures: 1.72b

sulfonamides: 1.71b

diamonds: 1.64b

planes, helicopters, and spacecraft: 1.63b

beauty products: 1.58b

other heating machinery: 1.43b

flavored water: 1.43b

gas turbines: 1.38b

low voltage protection eq: 1.34b

gas and liquid flow measuring inst: 1.3b

carboxyamide compounds: 1.26b

other measuring instruments: 1.24b

air pumps: 1.16b

motor vehicles, parts, and acc: 1.14b

petroleum gas: 1.12b

electrical transformers: 1.11b

aluminum plating: 1.07b

other plastic products: 1.01b

metal working machine parts: 988m

vitamins: 965m

polyamides: 963m

washing and bottling machines: 925m

chocolate: 887m

oxygen amino compounds: 885m

integrated circuits: 884m

iron fasteners: 881m

paintings: 873m

transmissions: 855m

special pharmaceuticals: 837m

insulated wire: 828m

electrical power accessories: 826m

plastic lids: 818m

cheese: 800m

antibiotics: 797m

liquid pumps: 797m

cars: 789m

ink: 752m

non mechanical removal machinery: 737m

trunks and cases: 734m

centrifuges: 730m

interchangeable tool parts: 728m

high voltage protection eq: 705m

hand saws: 693m

other edible preparations: 680m

electric heaters: 679m

electrical control boards: 672m

polyacetals: 664m

plastic pipes: 636m

electric soldering equipment: 616m

precious metal compounds: 608m

industrial fatty acids, oils, and alcohols: 608m

hot rolled iron bars: 590m

self propelled rail transport: 582m

refined petroleum: 577m

hydrazine or hydroxylamine derivatives: 565m

precious stones: 563m

rubber working machinery: 561m

unpackaged meds: 557m

other iron products: 553m

precious metal scraps 550m

computers: 545m

surveying equipment: 523m

other plastic sheetings: 519m

metal finishing machines: 516m

scrap copper: 514m

semiconductor devices: 511m

raw plastic sheeting: 494m

documents or title and stamps: 490m

rolled tobacco: 487m

malt extract: 469m

other electrical machinery: 467m

other paper machinery: 450m

oxygen heterocyclic compounds: 441m

non knit mens suits: 441m

synthetic coloring matter: 436m

locomotive parts: 432m

non knit womens suits: 428m

iron structures: 424m

leather footwear: 421m

industrial printers: 415m

lifting machinery: 415m

scrap iron: 412m

therapeutic appliances: 410m

office machine parts: 410m

other clocks and watches: 405m

metal molds: 403m

other furniture: 403m

glaziers putty: 377m

liquid dispersing machines: 376m

knitting machine accessories: 370m

other small iron pipes: 369m

broadcasting equipment: 367m

aircraft parts: 363m

industrial food prep machinery: 362m

glues: 357m

pesticides: 349m

oscilloscopes: 344m

raw aluminum: 344m

knit sweaters: 339m

optical fibers and bundles: 334m

excavation machinery: 332m

non iron/steel slag ash and residue: 319m

carboxylic acids: 315m

xray equipment: 315m

electric motor parts: 315m

watch straps: 313m

tanks and armoured vehicles: 310m

forging machines: 309m

cleaning products: 306m

metalworking transfer machines: 298m

animal food: 294m

combustion engines: 282m

engine parts: 271m

electric generating sets: 254m

scrap aluminum: 249m

laboratory reagents: 249m

perfumes: 244m

other rubber products: 241m

photo lab equipment: 240m

wheat: 236m

lubricating products: 234m

printed circuit boards: 233m

aluminum bars: 230m

explosive ammunition: 230m

brooms: 224m

lcds: 223m

refrigerators: 223m

motorcycles and cycles: 221m

large construction vehicles: 221m

coal briquettes: 221m

corn: 220m

aluminum cans: 219m

textile footwear: 217m

thermostats: 207m

coffee and tea extracts: 206m

other aluminum products: 204m

ball bearings: 203m

knives: 199m

machines for additive mnf: 195m

raw iron bars: 187m

delivery trucks: 185m

milling stones: 176m

aluminum foil: 170m

collectors items: 169m

soybean oil: 169m

wood fiberboard: 166m

other stainless steel bars: 164m

sculptures: 160m

cutting blades: 159m

baked goods: 150m

navigation equipment: 146m

hydrometers: 137m

watch cases and parts: 134m

laboratory ceramic wear: 134m

wood carpentry: 124m

mirrors and lenses: 117m

[aeoki]

Grand Slam - Blue Requiem: Chapter 5

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Pool Characters: Tomoya, Sora, Hiiro, Aira, Mayoi & Hitsugi

Tomoya: Even if I put something on, it’s still pretty cold right now, though.

Aira: When you put it that way, Day 2 being based on the ocean doesn’t really make sense, seeing as it’s not the season to be going for a dip in the ocean.

If we’re forced to do long-distance swimming in this season, we’re not just gonna catch a cold, we’re gonna die.

Tomoya: They would have planned stuff out with that in mind. Like, we could use an indoor pool with heated water instead. It looks like they had new outdoor heating technology installed in the event just before.

Aira: Ohh, no wonder I thought the sides of the pool were warm. The “Old-Fashioned Sports Festival” feels like a weird trade fair for new technologies. I thought it was like that on the first day too.

Tomoya: Yeah. Also, it seems the outdoor heaters were developed to make it easier to work outdoors in the colder seasons.

The announcer mentioned something like that when they were introducing the product.

It feels like ES is investing more and more into new technologies under the guise of it being beneficial for idol work… It was the same on the first day with the Metal Wings.

Aira: So they’re called Metal Wings, huh… The thing you can strap to your back to fly through the air.

Tomoya: Yeah. ES is just trying to branch out and make a lot of money…

They’re slowly strengthening their power. Recently, when I find clothes or snacks I like, it turns out ES is one of the associate companies most of the time.

Everything looks like it’s backed up by ES…

It feels as though everything including even the lives of us commoners won’t be able to exist without ES, and that’s kinda scary.

It really feels like ES will take over the world someday.

Aira: It seems there was a time when that actually happened ages ago. It’s kinda like an urban legend with unclear historical facts, though.

There was a time when idols controlled everything, apparently.

Tomoya: That definitely sounds fishy. Stuff like that just sounds like it’s straight from a manga.

Hitsugi: No. That’s not a made-up story at all.

I’m not joking. It’s all something that actually happened in the reality we live in.

Aira: ………!?

Tomoya: Y-You gave me a fright. What’s wrong, Kurone? Did you need something from us?

Hitsugi: Oh, yes! Firstly, great job on the first event, you two! The audience was super thrilled~ It was such a dramatic turn of events!

Aira: That's all thanks to Harukawa-senpai… I just ran around close to tears the entire time. I don’t even wanna watch what they filmed of me.

As expected of idols. The upperclassmen sure know how to make things exciting.

Tomoya: You’re an idol too, you know.

Hitsugi: Fufu. …Umm~ Since my sister made an appearance on the centre stage on the first day…

The others in the “producer course” have started bearing a sense of distrust for me.

Tomoya: Oh~ Yeah! There was an idol I didn’t know who looked exactly like you! They suddenly appeared during the cheering battle and shook things up the most!

Wait. But that was a girl, I think…?

Hitsugi: Yes. That was my big sister.

But she was so enthusiastic and it looked like she was making such a big fuss people started asking me stuff like, “Who’s that?” or “How are they related to you?”.

I’m at a complete loss so I’m running around everywhere right now. I knew my sister was moving about secretly, but I didn’t think she was doing idol activities.

My sister is still my sister, even in death.

Tomoya: ………?

Hitsugi: During “Tanabata Fest”, people thought she was just part of the underground idols, but I think she really stood out too much this time, for better or worse.

I’ll reflect on that. I’ve been really hopeless in every aspect this time around.

But, well, I don’t think that should apply to my sister! She should do what she likes!

Anyway, Harukawa-san, right? There’s something I want to ask you especially.

Sora: Ask Sora? What is it?

Sora can’t let you in on his magic tricks~ It won’t be magic otherwise!

Hitsugi: “Occult” means to “hide” things, doesn’t it?

Aira: (W-Wow. I can never understand the stuff that Harukawa-senpai’s talking about, but it feels like this Kurone person’s answers are all suddenly lining up with what he’s saying.)

Hiiro: Aira~! You haven’t been moving for a while now, but are you okay? Are you hurt!?

Mayoi: Aira-saaaaan! Well doneeeeee!

You have my respect! If I was in your position and also chased around like that, I wouldn’t be able to bear it and I would throw myself into the water immediately!

Hitsugi: …It’s rather noisy here, so let’s move elsewhere. And it looks like you two might really catch a cold if you don’t get changed.

Aira: Mmm~... I’m sorry my overprotective members are so loud.

Sora: That’s normal for Yumenosaki! Being overprotective is Yumenosaki’s tradition~♪

Tomoya: Yeah. That’s why if things get tough for you, don’t be afraid to rely on us. All right, Shiratori?

It doesn’t matter if we’re enemies during the “Old-Fashioned Sports Festival”. We’re fellow students and idols of Yumenosaki who are trying to make the school event a fun one.

Relying on others shouldn’t be seen as something shameful.

Aira: Um, well, I’m relying on you a lot already. So if I continue to do so, I think that would really make me a useless human being.

Hiiro: Aira? Aira? Why won’t he respond?

Mayoi: He must be so tired, he cannot muster the strength for his voice!

Aira: Oh, geez~ Just be quiet! I’m fine, okay!? I also overcame the summer with Hiro-kun and the others, so I’ve grown a bit stronger too!

Thanks for cheering and worrying about me! There, are you happy with that? Now, go!

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[solesommerso]

ೃ༄ time and time again

|| molly hicks x jim street

summary ; party’s suck most times, but maybe not so much when your ex is there

notes ; @blathannabeaga thank you for seeing what I see in this ship, they mean so much to me

warnings ; mollys date is shitty, alcohol, swearing

-

The dress she has on tells Street enough, it’s pastel lavender and strappy, those thin, too tight, straps that he knows Molly despises. She prefers sun dresses and something that flows by her legs, not whatever that skin tight thing she has on is.

Her face is scrunched up in discomfort as she talks to Hicks, a drink half drunk in her hand that she swirls in boredom at whatever is being discussed. There’s a guy next to her that Street sort of recognizes, he can’t put a name to a face but they’ve definitely met once, he looks unamused in Molly and more excited about Hicks’ speech.

Finally their eyes meet, Street hopes she doesn’t notice that he’s been staring so hard, it’s his ex for god sake he really shouldn’t be, but something crosses Mollys face that maybe she doesn’t care that much if he is. She stays looking at him for a moment before shrugging off the guy and Hicks to make her way through the small crowd of people to where Street is sitting.

“What?” She asks with a huff as soon as she sits down, bouncing a bit against the expensive couch placed in the middle of the venue Hicks rented out for his birthday.

“What are you wearing?” Molly rolls her eyes and shoves her elbow to Streets ribs.

“Shut up. It’s not that bad.” It’s really not, she looks stunning, she’s always been gorgeous but heels and a dress never hurt anyone.

“No it’s not, but you hate dresses like that and the color purple.” He doesn’t even need to say she hates the heels as Molly reaches the pluck them off her feet, sighing in relief once the shoes fall to the floor.

“Scott says it looks nice.” Scott, that’s why Street recognizes him, he’s one of Mollys coworkers.

“Scott’s not the one wearing it.” A hum is all he gets in response, Molly finishing her drink off before gingerly taking Streets from his hand with a small smirk.

“You do know the drinks are free right?” He doesn’t really care, part of him has missed Mollys insistent need of stealing his food and drinks anytime they’re together.

“Yours taste better.” Street can’t help but smile at the words, he’s heard them so many times, yet they still feel so warm in his chest.

“You sure Scott’s gonna like that?” Not really something you do in front of your new boyfriend, even if the douchebag- yes Streets deemed him a douchebag already- isn’t paying attention at all.

“Eh. I think he’s more interested in that girl.” He twists in his seat to see that Scott is sure enough talking some random patrol cop up, she’s blushing and giggling so Street can assume he didn’t let her know that he’s here with someone.

“I’m sorry Molly.” She shrugs and takes to swallowing the watered down bits of Streets drink.

“I don’t really wanna be here anyways, this dress is uncomfortable.” Her hands reach to shift the straps at her shoulders around a bit, they criss-cross in the back and when they move there’s red lines left behind that Street grimace’s subconsciously at.

“It’s a little cold to be in that, you look amazing don’t get me wrong, but it’s like sixty out.” A small chuckle leaves Mollys lips before she nods, leaning into Streets shoulder more when a blow of cold air leaves the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

“Here.” Before the action really crosses Streets mind, he slips his leather jacket off and drapes it over Mollys shoulders, only hovering a moment when they get so close he can smell the pumpkin of her perfume and feel the puff of air she lets out. He wants to kiss her. He would’ve. But he shouldn’t and he knows that, there’s no way kissing his ex at her dads party is a good idea.

“Thanks.” Her voice soft and gentle as she hugs the jacket closer, relishing in how Street acts as a walking heater at all time.

“Course.” He’s expecting an awkward silence or even for Molly to take back what she said and throw the jacket off, instead she curls towards Street, slipping under his arm and laying her head against his chest, as she has done time and time again. And that’s how they stay for the rest of the night, tucked into one another, talking about god knows what, but comfortable and safe.

[mychemicalrachel]

prompt 10 with adam x kavinsky could be fun,,,

(This turned out way longer than I intended oops)

For the prompt; you’ve been breaking into my car to sleep at night and I’ve let it slide because it’s been cold out but I have a date and I need you to find somewhere else (fine, go in my house/garage, I don’t care, you’re not messing this date up for me)

Read on ao3

Send me a prompt!

Henrietta didn’t have an autumn. There were the burning days of a seemingly endless summer and then, abrupt and harsh and frigid, winter fell like a bomb. Even though it was only mid-October, there was a chill in the air that crept beneath Adam’s collar no matter how tight he pulled his jacket around himself. The water heater in his apartment was broken– again– and phone calls and texts to his landlord about fixing it had gone unanswered– again. As he hurried across the parking lot to his car, he distracted himself from the cold by daydreaming of the day when he would be able to leave this shitty apartment building behind. If he could afford any place better, he would’ve told his landlord to go fuck himself ten times over. But he was a college student living off of minimum wage working at the campus bookstore in no position to tell anyone to fuck themselves, much less the person in control of his housing. He couldn’t even afford a new jacket, let alone a new apartment.

At the top of his daydream list, right beneath a nice winter jacket and an apartment with hot water, was a new used car. He’d been driving the same shitbox since high school and it had been ramshackle back then. Now it was downright decrepit. The door whined reluctantly when he pulled it open and the engine sputtered angrily, but it worked. It was held together with duct tape and a prayer, but it worked.

Fiddling with the heat, wheezing asthmatically and offering little puffs of cool air, Adam wondered if he needed more duct tape or prayers, or maybe a new blower motor. He closed his eyes and hoped that it would just get him through the winter. If he could make it through winter, he could temporarily go back to biking to work and maybe save up enough money to get the car fixed. He just needed it to get him through the winter…

He tossed his backpack into the backseat and froze when it grunted at him.

Slowly, Adam turned.

Then he screamed.

In the backseat of his car, half hidden under a pair of dirty coveralls and an old moving blanket, was a man. He stirred, frowned at Adam’s backpack, noticed Adam watching horrified from the front seat, and screamed back.

Adam gripped the steering wheel tightly like he could possibly use it as a weapon if it came right down to it. But the man in the backseat didn’t seem like much of a threat, even now that he was awake. He was bone thin, visible because as he sat up and the blanket fell away, Adam could see that he was wearing nothing more than a white muscle shirt. He blinked blearily and pushed a hand through his hair, though it fell back in greasy strands across his eyes a moment later.

Adam had never had it easy growing up, first living with abusive parents and then getting emancipated and working himself into the ground to pay for college and his own place, but he’d also never been homeless. Even in the particularly rough times, he always had his friends to keep him from falling too far. He’d never hit rock bottom, not like this. Not pushed to the point of sleeping in a stranger’s car. Looking at the man in his backseat, Adam’s initial terror slipped into something akin to pity. He brushed that aside that thought– he didn’t like to be pitied and so he would not feel pity for this stranger. Even if he did have dirty clothes and unwashed hair and– fuck, he didn’t even have a jacket.

The stranger picked up Adam’s backpack by the strap. “Dude,” he said, his voice gravely. Adam wondered absently how long it had been since he had something warm to drink, or an actual meal to eat. “Did you throw this at me?”

He hadn’t intentionally, but he probably would have if he had known the stranger was there. Instead, he asked his own question; “What are you doing in my car?”

The stranger shrugged. “It was unlocked.”

“The locks are broken,” Adam said, and shook his head. “That’s not the point! You can’t just break into someone’s car to sleep. That’s illegal.”

The man didn’t seem concerned with the legalities of it. “You actually drive this piece of shit?” He laughed. “I didn’t even know it worked. I thought it was abandoned.”

Something like fury burned away any pity that remained in Adam. He didn’t think this homeless stranger was in any position to be criticizing his car, even if it was objectively a piece of shit. “That’s still illegal,” Adam pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy waved him off– literally waved him off, like he was a bothersome fly. “Won’t happen again, I’m leaving.” He climbed over the moving blanket, got his ankle tangled in the coveralls, and pushed the door open. The immediate blast of cold air from outside froze Adam all the way to the core.

He closed his eyes.

He blamed it on his own selfish interest– he couldn’t very well go about his day knowing he had forced a homeless man out onto the street to freeze, he’d feel guilty and it would put him in a bad mood the whole rest of the day– when he said, “Wait.”

The stranger waited.

Adam sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Kavinsky,” the stranger said. It sounded too odd to be a fake name.

He was already running late and he regretted it before he even offered, “Can I drop you off anywhere?”

Outside the car, Kavinsky mulled it over. He thought about it so long that Adam almost took back the offer and left him there to die in the parking lot. But eventually he shut the back door, made his way around the car, and climbed into the passenger’s seat. He fidgeted with the vents, angling up and then down. He didn’t seem to notice the chill as much as Adam did, just playing with the settings on the heater. “You never told me your name,” he said.

Adam pulled out onto the street. “Adam. Stop fucking with that.”

Kavinsky shot him a grin and continued fucking with the heat.

“Where should I take you?” Adam asked. He was having second thoughts already. He hoped wherever Kavinsky wanted to go was close. The sooner Adam could get him out of the car, the sooner he became Not Adam’s Problem.

Kavinsky looked over at him. “I don’t know. Christ, it’s early. Where are you headed?”

“VCU campus,” Adam told him. “I can drop you anywhere between here and there.”

“VCU,” Kavinsky repeated carefully, seeming unfamiliar with the concept. “Sure, okay. VCU it is. Does your radio work?” He didn’t wait for an answer. The radio did work, sometimes, in certain areas, with varying degrees of success. Mostly it was sporadic tunes from different stations overlaid with static. Kavinsky didn’t seem to mind, changing it from one station to another without pause. He fidgeted a lot and Adam found himself wondering if he was on drugs– that probably would have been something to know before he offered to give him a ride. But it was too late now and they were nearly there.

When they finally arrived on campus, Adam was more than ready to part ways and pretend this morning was a lapse in judgment, a near miss, a cautionary tale to remember later. He got his bag from the backseat as Kavinsky got out and patted his pockets. When he retrieved a crumpled pack of cigarettes, Adam was silently grateful he’d at least waited until he got out of the car to smoke. Kavinsky looked around curiously at the buildings, the early risers with early classes bustling half asleep down the sidewalk. “Thanks for the ride,” he said.

“No problem,” Adam lied. “Just– you can’t sleep in my car anymore. This can’t become a habit.”

“No problem,” Kavinsky echoed. His lips curled into a smile around the cigarette. “Won’t happen again. It was a one time thing. Promise.”

It wasn’t a one time thing.

A week after their first encounter, just as Adam was starting to forget it ever happened, it happened again. This time, as Kavinsky roused from the backseat, he didn’t seem as surprised to find Adam as Adam was to find him.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Morning.”

“No,” Adam shook his head. “No, do not ‘morning’ me! What the actual fuck? What are you doing back there?”

Kavinsky seemed to take this as an invitation to move from the backseat to the front, climbing over the center console to do so. Once he’d settled in the passenger’s seat, he smirked sideways at Adam. “You always get up this early?”

“What are you doing here?” Adam asked.

“I’m sleeping,” Kavinsky said. “I was sleeping. You hit me with your bookbag again.”

“Kavinsky–” Adam said.

Kavinsky smiled. “Adam.”

Adam had a million choice words on the tip of his tongue and half of them were swears, but Kavinsky’s crooked smile and his rough sleep-addled voice brought Adam’s retort to a withering stop. He was wearing the same white muscle shirt, the same faded jeans, all hanging loose off his wirethin frame.

“Are you on drugs?” Adam asked.

Kavinsky’s sharp laugh echoed in the interior of the car. “Sometimes,” he said. “Not right now.”

Adam wasn’t going to judge him. He wasn’t. It wasn’t his place, it wasn’t his business– except it kind of was. It became his business as soon as Kavinsky decided to start sleeping in his car. He started the car without another word and had pulled out onto the main road before he spoke again. “You can’t keep sleeping in my car.”

“How come?”

“Well, because– because it’s…” Adam sputtered for a response, each one dying in his throat. Because it was illegal, but it was only illegal if Adam pressed charges. Because it was unethical, but it was also maybe the safest place Kavinsky could find. He frowned at the road and sighed.

“You got a last name, Adam?” Kavinsky wondered offhandedly.

“That’s personal,” Adam said. “Why would I tell you that?”

“That’s personal,” Kavinsky mocked. “Fuck that, man. I know where you live, I know what you drive, I know where you go to school. But last names are too personal?”

“What about you?” Adam asked.  “Do you have a last name?”

“Kavinsky,” Kavinsky said.

“Kavinsky? Your name is Kavinsky Kavinsky?”

“Wow, pretty and smart.” Kavinsky rolled his eyes. “My last name is Kavinsky, dipshit. Never said it was my first name.”

“So what’s your first name?”

Kavinsky made a sucking noise with his teeth. “I don’t know, Adam. That’s kind of personal.”

Adam could pull over right now. He could leave Kavinsky stranded on the side of the road. Honestly he doubted anyone would blame him.

But Kavinsky just laughed, that chilly sound as before, and said, “Joseph. But nobody calls me that.”

Joseph Kavinsky. If he was to be believed, at least Adam would know who to report to the police if this did end up being a massive mistake. “Parrish,” he said.

“Adam Parrish,” Kavinsky said.

Adam pretended he didn’t like the way his name sounded in that gravely voice, but if he rolled the memory around in his head afterwards, imagining other ways, other tones, other scenarios that his name would sound in Kavinsky’s mouth, no one had to know.

He started checking in the mornings before he tossed his bag into the backseat. Sometimes Kavinsky would be there, snuggled comfortably among the moving blanket and sometimes the car was empty. Adam didn’t want to admit it, but he started to enjoy the company in the mornings on the drive to school. Kavinsky was brusque and funny in a dry way. Maybe it was vanity, but he thought Kavinsky enjoyed his company, too. He laughed at Adam’s sarcastic comments, filled his quiet mornings with commentary about whatever happened to be on his mind, whether it was criticizing Adam’s car or asking about Adam’s degree.

He never asked where Kavinsky went during the days or where he stayed on the nights he didn’t spend in the backseat of Adam’s car. He convinced himself that it wasn’t any of his concern and, if Kavinsky wanted him to know, he would tell him. For the time being, Adam could offer him the solace of a somewhat warm place to sleep and hope that was enough.

When Blue asked him out, Adam panicked. He knew her from around campus; they had a few classes together, he’d talked to her briefly in the bookstore when she was buying a few used environmental law books. She seemed nice enough, but Adam hadn’t considered dating much since– well, ever. His ten year plan involved meeting someone eventually, after he graduated, after he got a steady job. So when Blue asked him to accompany her to the Christmas tree lighting at the local tree farm, Adam kind of freaked out. It didn’t sound like a real thing and it certainly didn’t sound like somewhere he would take a girl on a first date, but he didn’t have anything better to do so he said yes. When she grinned, touched his arm, and said, “It’s a date!” he knew he had fucked up.

He couldn’t back out without seeming like a jackass, and it wasn’t like he could ghost her because they went to the same school and she was actually kind of cool, even if he didn’t want to date her.

So he would suck it up, suffer through a cold night surrounded by Christmas trees, and at the end of the night he would let her down gently. He could do that. As he walked briskly across the parking lot, he considered what he would say. He’d never broken up with anyone before, and he wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for telling someone you’d rather stay friends after only one date. Shit. He would figure it out. He had to.

It was habit by that point, as he climbed into the car, to look into the backseat. He didn’t expect to find anything, but sure enough, nestled in the blanket, was Kavinsky. He looked different than Adam remembered from the first time, sleeping peacefully. He looked… soft. Relaxed. Adam wondered if that was maybe an effect of the drugs.

“Hey,” Adam whispered loudly. “Kavinsky. Wake up.” He reached back and nudged the blanket. It wiggled as Kavinsky moved.

Blinking slowly, Kavinsky rubbed his eyes. His words slurred together sleepily when he asked, “Is it morning already?”

“No,” Adam said, “it’s like nine PM. But you can’t be here. Not tonight. You have to go.”

“Go?” Kavinsky asked.

“Yes,” Adam said. “Like… get out.”

Humming, Kavinsky closed his eyes and sank down further into his cocoon. “You gonna make me?”

“Kavinsky,” Adam said. “Look, I’ve let this slide but you can’t be here tonight.”

“You got a hot date?”

Adam was glad that it was too dark to see his blush, but Kavinsky must have heard it in his silence.

He shifted, sitting up a little. “Oh, shit, Parrish. For real? Who’s the lucky lady?” He pointedly raised his eyebrows. “Or lad.”

“Lady,” Adam said, then realized Blue would probably hate to be described as a lady, so he corrected, “Girl. Woman.”

Kavinsky seemed wholly amused when he climbed into the front seat. “Where are you taking this lovely girl woman? Are you picking her up? I hear ladies love cars, but this piece of shit might be the exception. If it breaks down, will you let her steer while you push?”

“K,” Adam said. “I don’t have time for this. You have to go.”

“I can stay in the backseat. I’ll be quiet, I promise. Unless,” he looked over at Adam with the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips, “you plan on getting lucky back there.”

“Kavinsky,” Adam snapped.

Kavinsky must have realized he was pushing too far and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. I’ll go.”

“You don’t–” have anywhere else to go. But Adam didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he swore under his breath, checked the time, and said, “You can stay in my apartment tonight.”

Kavinsky’s eyes widened.

Adam interrupted before he could say anything. “One night. That’s it.”

When Kavinsky smiled, it was more than a shadow– it was an entire beam of sunlight. He was quiet as he followed Adam into the building, up the stairs, looking around curiously. Adam expected him to make crude comments about the stains on the floor and the constantly present smell of must in the air, but he said nothing at all. When they reached Adam’s door, his fingers fumbled with the keys in the lock. Once it was open, Adam grabbed Kavinsky and pulled him inside before he could think any better of it.

Kavinsky’s wrist was thin under Adam’s fingers, the kind of frail he remembered being back in high school when he was rationing his own meals. He could feel the thundering of Kavinsky’s pulse echoed in his own.

“There’s food in the fridge,” Adam told him, “and a spare blanket in the closet if you want to sleep.” He paused, and added, “On the couch.”

“You sure about this, Parrish?” Kavinsky asked. He ran his finger along the single small bookshelf Adam owned, perusing the titles of his secondhand books. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you about stranger danger?”

“I don’t know if we’re strangers anymore. You sleep in my car,” Adam said. “You know my name, where I live, where I work, where I go to school.”

It wasn’t lost on him that Kavinsky knew all of that and yet he hardly knew anything about Kavinsky. All he knew at the moment, all that mattered, was that Kavinsky was homeless, he was cold, he was tired, and he needed help. Adam didn’t have much, but he was going to offer what he could.

“Just don’t break anything,” Adam said. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Kavinsky hummed, plucking a book off the shelf. Adam wondered if he could even read and then chastised himself because of course Kavinsky could probably read. He had already kicked his shoes off and was settling down on the couch before Adam was out the door.

The date with Blue was worse than Adam imagined. It was cold and his jacket was too thin to keep out the chill, his fingers were practically numb by the time the tree lighting even happened and that itself was entirely underwhelming. Blue talked about her family and her major and pointed out the different types of trees to Adam, but Adam couldn’t focus on most of what she was saying. His mind kept wandering back to Kavinsky.

It was probably a mistake to leave Kavinsky in his apartment alone. He kept imagining the horrible things Kavinsky was doing– setting the kitchen on fire, eating his entire week’s supply of food, clogging his toilet, annoying his neighbors, using up what meager amount of hot water he had. Maybe Adam would come home and the entire apartment would be emptied out, everything he owned gone. Not that he had much that was worth anything anyway, but what he did have was his and he’d left a complete stranger– a poor homeless, possible drug addict– alone with it all.

When the night was finally over, Adam was practically vibrating with the urgency to get home, to fix whatever mess Kavinsky had left. He drove as fast as his car would let him and took the stairs two at a time up to his floor. When he pushed the door open, bracing himself for the absolute worst, Adam was surprised– shocked– to find Kavinsky exactly where he’d left him. He was halfway through the book he was starting with Adam left, in the same spot curled up on one end of the couch. A pizza box was open next to him, half finished.

Kavinsky looked up when Adam burst in. He used his finger to hold his place and the book in his lap fell shut. “Honey, you’re home. How was your date?”

Adam ignored him. He looked around, closing the door carefully. Everything looked the same, not a dust mote out of place.

Kavinsky noticed his unsubtle once over and barked out a laugh. “I didn’t break anything. I made dinner. Hungry?”

He was, and he tentatively took a piece of pizza from the box. “How did you get this?”

“I ordered it.” Kavinsky looked at him like he was dumb. “I used the phone. They have this cool new thing where you can order food online and someone will bring it to you. Modern technology, man. It’s a motherfucking wonder.”

Adam chewed as it mulled that over. He knew a lot of homeless people had government-provided cell phones and it wasn’t entirely unusual that Kavinsky had enough money for a single pizza. But it still felt weird. He felt like someone had told a joke and he was missing the punchline. He finished his bite and swallowed it down, dry and rough, before he found his voice, breaching the subject he had, for weeks, managed to avoid. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“Huh?” Kavinsky looked back up from the book.

“Somewhere to stay,” Adam repeated carefully. He considered the pizza. He knew what it was like to be hungry. When he was a teenager, pizza was a delicacy he couldn’t often afford. “They have shelters, places with heat and beds, somewhere safe you can sleep for a few nights. I can help you find somewhere if you want.”

Kavinsky blinked at him, then blinked again. “Hold the fuck up,” he closed the book again and sat it down in his lap, then folded his hands on top of it. “Parrish, are you talking about a homeless shelter? Like for poor people?”

“Well,” Adam wanted to put it more delicately, but he couldn’t figure out a way. He grimaced. “Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence, a single moment, before Kavinsky laughed, loud and raucous, full and hardy. He sank down into the cushions, tossing his head back to expose the winding veins in his throat.

Now Adam was certain he had missed the punchline.

He waited until Kavinsky calmed down, his laughter tapering into an amused chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, “do you think I’m homeless?”

Think? “Wait,” Adam said. Looking back on the meager things he knew about Kavinsky, it wasn’t a thought. It was a fact. Kavinsky was homeless. Unless, of course, he wasn’t. “Are you saying you’re not?”

Kavinsky stifled another laugh that came out anyway, sounding like a strangled hyena. “Obviously I’m not fucking homeless.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. He felt suddenly like he was the punchline of this joke and he didn’t like it one bit. “How was that supposed to be obvious? You’ve been sleeping in my car for weeks!”

“It was unlocked,” Kavinsky said.

“The locks are broken!” Adam shouted. “That is not the point! What the hell is wrong with you!?”

“You should really get the locks fixed,” Kavinsky said calmly. “Anyone could just break in.”

When Adam just glared at him, Kavinsky bit down on his smile.

“You seem upset.”

He felt way past upset. He was confused and fuming and embarrassed and he was burning under Kavinsky’s humored gaze. “You have a place to live,” he said, though it came out as more of an accusation than a question.

“Where did you think I was sleeping when I wasn’t in your backseat?”

Probably under a bridge, but Adam didn’t say that because now he clearly knew that was the wrong answer. He asked, “So what was this? Why did you keep breaking into my car?”

“Why did you let me?” Kavinsky challenged.

“Because,” Adam said slowly, making his words very deliberate, “I thought you were homeless.”

Kavinsky pursed his lips. “You let a homeless man with a drug problem sleep in your car and then invited him into your apartment? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Kavinsky–” Adam started, and stopped. “Is that even your real name?”

“Course it is. Why would I lie about that?”

Adam was going to murder him. He was going to strangle him with his bare fucking hands.

Maybe Kavinsky sensed this because he put his hands up, placating, like he was talking to a caged animal. “Okay, okay. Sometimes my parents fight. It’s nice to get out of the house and find some peace and quiet. That’s all.”

“And you decided my backseat was a good place for some peace and quiet?” Adam asked, disbelieving.

Kavinsky shrugged. “The first time was an accident. I really did think the car was abandoned, and I was too wasted to care.”

“But you kept doing it. You could have gotten a hotel room or stayed with a friend or something, right?”

Kavinsky nodded.

“Why did you keep going back to my car?”

“Because,” Kavinsky said and his smile was back, a sparkle gleaming in his eyes, “I realized the guy who owned the car was kind of hot.”

Adam stopped. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he closed it again. Kavinsky seemed proud at having rendered him speechless. “You broke into my car,” Adam finally managed, “because you think I’m attractive?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Kavinsky’s grin was sharp and sharklike. “In simple terms; I like you, shitface.”

Adam’s face burned. “Why wouldn’t you just ask me out like a normal person?”

“Well it seemed inappropriate to show up where you lived or worked just to ask you out.”

“And breaking into my car wasn’t inappropriate?”

“You didn’t stop me,” Kavinsky reminded him. “You let me sleep in your car.”

“Because I thought you were homeless! I mean,” Adam gestured at Kavinsky, “you have one shirt and it looks like you haven’t washed your hair in two years.”

“First of all, I have many shirts that all look alike. I’m a very simple person. And second,” Kavinsky said, “that was rude. I have washed my hair like twice in the past year, at least.”

Despite himself, Adam snorted.

Kavinsky smiled. “You never answered my question. How was your date?”

“Terrible.” Adam kicked off his shoes and shoved the pizza box aside so he could sit on the other end of the couch. “She talked about trees the whole time and I was just thinking about you the entire night. Not like– I mean–”

“No, keep going,” Kavinsky insisted. “You thought about me while you were on a date with someone else?”

Adam did his best to glare at him, but it lacked the heat he’d felt before. “I thought about how I was never going to get my security deposit back because I let a homeless drug addict into my apartment.”

“Recovering addict,” Kavinsky corrected. He leaned back and let his head fall to the side, watching Adam curiously, the same curiosity as when he’d been on campus the first time, and when he’d come into Adam’s apartment. A look of genuine awe. “Adam Parrish, I can promise you I have my own car and I live with my parents, but I’m not homeless. I have a part time job and a checking account with real grown-up money in it.”

“K, stop talking,” Adam interrupted, “I’m impressed, okay? Just ask me on a fucking date already.”

“I’ll take you somewhere nice,” Kavinsky grinned, “and I won’t talk about trees at all.” His gaze flicked briefly down to Adam’s mouth and he licked his own bottom lip. “And if the date goes well,” he said, “maybe you can find out what the backseat of my car looks like.”

[hvacparts02]

Johnson Controls A19DAC-1C Strap-On Aquastat SPDT 100°F to 240°F | PartsHnC

Johnson Controls A19DAC-1C Strap-On Aquastat, versatile control device designed for HVAC systems, specifically for monitoring and controlling temperatures in heating applications. This aquastat features a temperature range from 100°F to 240°F and operates using a remote bulb sensor, which allows it to accurately sense water or air temperatures in boilers, water heaters, and other HVAC equipment.