#I got all freaked out after reading about how vets have to struggle not to break the jaw when extracting canines

[pangur-and-grim]

2 more days until her dental surgery! she’s chilling extra hard to gather strength (and will chill extra hard after that to recover. and will chill extra hard after that in the future because she’s a fucking cat and that’s what cats do)

[eddiemunsonw]

Like a dog

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Summary: Happens after Gator gets his ass kicked in episode 2. He clearly needs some help, but he's independent, right? He can take care of this himself, for sure.

CW/Disclaimer: A bit of angst? Gator is having some inner struggles and you're doing your best to accommodate him. And yeah, a bit of misogyny in there too, nothing too strong though I would say. Also some fluff and humor, I barely can do without.

Author's note: The title is misleading, but it'll make sense once you start reading it.

Words: 2319

Gator

His ears were ringing, but apart from that no sound seemed to be coming in. He vaguely noticed his cheek was warm, realized it was blood and tried to not freak out. It wasn’t that he was scared of blood, not at all. Sometimes he even got a little kick out of watching things, people bleed. Just not himself.

Then… there was his arm. That was a problem for sure. He had felt the snap, heard it, even, before that asshole used his gun right next to his ear. Last but not least, his groin. His balls and dick felt like they had grown thrice in size in the bad way. He didn’t think there was any enlargement of balls in the good way anyway. But… Yeah. It really fucking hurt.

Getting to the ER was a challenge too. His father was occupied and he didn’t want to ask for his help for something so insignificant. He was independent. He could just walk. Once he stood upright, he felt like dropping to his knees again, his vision swimming. Everything hurt so much it was nearly blinding. He would’ve thrown up if… wait, had he thrown up? He tasted blood but he had also bitten his tongue, so… Whatever. One step at a time. And fingers crossed that shitbird wouldn’t find him.

You

The crash, followed by a yelp and a cry of pain startled you as you were restocking supplies. You rushed to the front and found a guy, a familiar guy, on the floor, holding his arm as he groaned in pain. Quickly, you kneeled down on the floor next to him, gently touching his shoulder.

“He—”

“Don’t touch me!”

His whole body tensed up and he twisted away from your touch. In the moment, it didn’t register to you as funny even though a bystander could probably see the humor of it as he wiggled away from you, groaning and moaning in pain as he did.

“I assume you’re here for a reason. How about we get you upright and in the chair, so I can check you out?”

Gator finally lifted his head to look at you and squinted. You noticed he was sweating, which wasn’t good. His eyes narrowed even more and a scowl pulled the corners of his mouth down.

“Are you even qualified?”

“Do you want help or not?” you deadpanned.

He managed to lift himself up to lean against the door and tried to cross his arms but remembered one wasn’t really cooperating and winced.

“Are you qualified?”

“To take care of dogs? Yeah, I am.”

Gator’s eyes flamed and you could tell he wanted to lurch forward, probably grasp your throat to shut you up. It didn’t help that you were smiling at him. Lucky for you, he was in too much pain to act on his deepest desires. Instead, he nearly spat the words out he said next.

“What are you calling me?”

You laughed dryly. Gator Tillman. He hadn’t changed a bit since school.

“Funny you immediately assume I’m talking about you. You’re at a vet. This isn’t the ER, Gator.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, taken aback. Only now he actually properly looked around. He seemed to have a hard time focusing his vision still. “What kind of bad business are you running here? There’s no one! Also that’s Sheriff Tillman for you.”

You looked at him, rolled your eyes and walked to the back to make yourself some coffee. He could wait. If he wanted to act like an entitled brat he should have gone to the actual ER. You knew barking dogs rarely bite. After a few minutes, he called out.

“Hey! Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Depends,” you shouted from the back, “are you gonna stop acting like a dick or not, Deputy?”

A silence. One that dragged on long enough for you to walk back to the front with your coffee in hand. Maybe you hadn’t heard the door open and close? Wrong. His eyes met yours immediately when you looked down, lips pressed tightly together, whether out of pain or annoyance with you, you weren’t sure. You gave him a pointed glance and a quip of your brow, waiting.

“Yes.”

With some help, you got him to sit on the examination table, which immediately required a remark from him, of course.

“Can this thing even handle my weight?”

You eyed him up and down slowly, a slow smirk forming. His frown deepened as you let the silence settle between you and he shifted uncomfortably on the table.

“Yeah. You look like you weigh about the size of a chubby golden retriever.”

“I workout every day!” he spluttered, as if that was the point.

“Okay? Point is, it can take you. No need to worry your little head over it. Anyway… let’s see.”

You could feel Gator’s eyes following you as you gathered some supplies, knowing you wouldn’t be able to help him with everything. The best you could probably do was give him a ride to those that could. You turned around and lifted your hand to his face, gently wiping away the blood that had leaked from his ear. His hand grabbed your wrist tightly when you came closer to his ear and he hissed out in pain. His grip was painful, but you could tell by his ragged breaths that he wasn’t doing it out of malice. He was scared.

“Hey…” you started softly, leaning back to look at him. You stood between his legs and while you were smaller than him, were able to see eye to eye due to the height of the table. “You do need to go to the ER. Get you checked out. I can make you a temporary splint for your arm but I don’t wanna mess with it too much as it’s not my expertise to work on humans. I can give you a ride? Is there anything else that hurts?”

He mumbled something incomprehensible and avoided your eyes.

“Sorry?”

“My junk. I think I need to like, cool it or something,” he said reluctantly. You nodded and walked away from him to grab a gel pack from the freezer, but the hand around your wrist stopped you. As you turned around he was quick to avoid your gaze once again and dropped your wrist.

“You might want to take your pants off.”

“Hah?”

“For the gel pack,” you mumbled as you placed a gel pack wrapped in a towel next to him. He frowned but started fumbling with the button of his cargos anyway. You already wrote a note to stick on your door that you’d be out for a bit and added the emergency number of the nearest vet just in case.

“Fuck!”

His voice startled you and as you turned around you noticed he was still struggling with his button. His vest was slightly in the way as well as his belt, which didn’t help.

“Need help?”

“No.”

He continued to try, frustration rising. The soft whimpers and groans made you pity him a little. After a while he looked closer to crying and you couldn’t just stand by and watch. You made your way back, standing between his legs again and gently swatted his hand away. To your surprise, he didn’t object. Instead, he softly gasped, stammering softly as your hand accidentally grazed him. You were unsure whether it was out of pain or… something else. A quick glance at his face confirmed that he was focusing on your hand, lips parted slightly. His usual slicked back hair was messier than usual and only now you noticed the dried up tear streaks on his face. You pulled down his zipper and stepped back so he could get off the table. He slowly lifted his gaze, cheeks slightly flushed and if you weren’t mistaken, his lower lip trembled a little.

“Can you stand?”

Quietly, Gator pushed himself off the table and stood in front of you, taller again. Except, he looked rather small, looking down at his feet like that. He sighed shakily, making no move.

“Do you need help, or…”

He shook his head and pushed his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers before getting himself back on the table and covering himself with the gel pack. A sigh of relief was heard but other than that, he made no comments, no snarky remarks. Very uncharacteristic really. Or maybe it was just him without the forceful mask on his face.

“I’ll grab something for your arm, I’ll—”

You turned away from him again but before you could step away you felt his hand enclose around your wrist again. The gel pack fell to the ground with a soft thud.

“Don’t.”

“I…” you hesitated on what to say.

“Please.”

His voice sounded fragile now, shaky. You nodded and slowly bent down to grab the gel pack and handed it back to him as he let go of your wrist again. While you weren’t sure what he wanted, you made sure to stay. There seemed to be a lot going on in that head of his. Suddenly quite aware of your close proximity, you didn’t know where to look. Even though his crotch was covered with the gel pack, it was still weird to stand between his legs as his cargos dropped below his knees and slowly sagged down. Your gaze was focused to the side, which is why you didn’t immediately notice how he slowly bent forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder. It sounded like he was holding his breath, anticipating your reaction nervously. 

Without thinking, you put an arm around him, your hand soothingly rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. A shuddering breath left him as he relaxed against you. A few minutes in, at least it felt like some, you felt him tense up again. Not much later you felt something wet dripping down your collarbone. He was crying.

“If it’s hurting that badly, maybe we should…”

“No,” he croaked out, arm reaching out to clutch at your hip.

“Okay. Take as much time as you need. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m weak,” he managed to grunt. You weren’t surprised that a guy whose father was Roy Tillman had some deep self-loathing to deal with. In school it had always been obvious he felt pressured about living up to his father’s expectations. To be deserving of the Tillman name. He was as cocky as he was insecure. Still, no amount of pain justified being a grade-A dick to others. And yet… here you were, comforting the classic example of a grade-A dick.

“I don’t think you’re weak at all. Weak people don’t call themselves weak,” you told him softly, continuously rubbing his back. His breath shuddered when you gently readjusted the gel pack for him as it was slipping again.

“As if you know anything about weakness or strength,” he bit out, “you’re a female.”

“Right,” you mumbled, unimpressed. “Guess you’re weak then.”

A silence followed, apart from his soft sniffs, a reminder of his earlier crying. You felt him lift his forehead from your shoulder, breath tracing your jawline before his lips followed in its path. Your breath hitched, heartbeat quickening. Suddenly, his lips crashed on yours, demanding intimacy, taking it with some desperation. His lips felt chapped and for a second you were tempted to meet the roughness of his kiss but something in you held back.

In one quick move you pulled back and slapped him in the face. On the sensitive side, no less. He winced and looked betrayed, hand flying up to grab your wrist once more, tightening his grip until it hurt. You watched him closely, careful but not scared.

“Better not try that again without asking,” you warned.

“Or what?” Gator mumbled, his mouth curled down. Clearly not used to not getting his way. Well, too bad for him it had been you he wanted to kiss.

“Or I’ll squeeze your bad arm as hard as you’re squeezing my wrist right now.”

As if forgotten, Gator looked at his own hand and let go immediately, huffing a response you couldn’t make out clearly.

“Well then, shall we go?” you offered, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His injuries needed to be taken care of already. With clear disappointment he got up from the table and he let you help him get his pants back in place. The moment his hand reached out for your wrist you quickly pulled away and he looked up with genuine remorse. Hmm, interesting.

“Sorry,” he sighed and this time you let him take hold of your wrist, surprised when his touch was gentle as he rubbed his thumb over the most sore spot. “You’ve been all nice to me and I’ve been…”

“Yourself,” you finished with a shrug. Hurt crossed his eyes only for a second and you followed his gaze down to your wrist, where his touch was still so gentle.

“I’m not always like… that. I’m not.”

You cocked your head and watched him until his eyes met yours. There was a hesitance in them, but also determination. A soft smile graced your lips, which was met with the subtlest widening of his eyes.

“Maybe you could tell me more about that other you then, after we’ve patched you up.”

“Oh,” he said softly, followed by a nod. “Okay.”

“Come on, Sheriff Tillman.”

He smiled at your sarcastic, teasing tone and moved his hand down to yours to give it a light squeeze before letting go.

“Gator,” he corrected softly. “Just call me Gator, Y/N.”

“I was wondering if you’d remembered my name,” you chuckled.

“I always remember the pretty ones.”

“Flirting now, are we?”

“Maybe.” 

He tried to play it off cool. Until curiosity got the best of him. 

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

It was.

If you enjoyed this fic, please comment and/or reblog! It spreads my fic to other people to enjoy whereas a like does not, as much as I appreciate those too :) It would mean a lot <3

[worriedvision]

Transformation - Jing Yuan

Gender neutral reader, reader is initially a bird and Jing Yuan takes care of them for an extended period of time. One day, you wake up human. If you have an allergy to potato, bread or bird seed bare in mind the reader eats these. It reads as platonic for once! I decided to tag this as a .+ reader. instead of an ‘x reader’.

--

When you were taken in by Jing Yuan, you were struggling to hop with your friends to eat some seeds that had been scattered by the man who regularly came along to do so. Yearning for some remaining crumbs by the time you get there, you greedily try and speed up only to fall on your face, letting out a disgruntled chirp. When you stand up again, regaining your balance, Jing Yuan is right there, seeds in his hand. Extending his hand, he lets you eat your fill as he smiles, watching you gain more trust for him. You pull away from his hand once you’re finished, and you expect him to walk away after perhaps petting you, only to get caught off guard when he takes a hold of you. He made sure to make you comfortable, you got the impression he understood how to carry birds, and you hear him talking about...a vet? Whatever it was, you thought it would be good for you.

After your recovery from your treatment with the bug that latched onto your leg, you decided to stay by Jing Yuan’s side instead of flying away like he thought you would. He tried to get you to fly away once, but he learned the hard way you were happier staying with him as he watches you just drop. Thankfully, your wings did deploy, and after landing safely you chirped up the steps, Jing Yuan chuckling before allowing you to stay.

A couple of months pass happily, you accompanying him when you could and agreeing to stay home when he manages to explain why it was dangerous, you wake up outside. 

That wasn’t what weirded you out. You look down, not recognising your body, and you furrow your brows as you inspect your clothing. A note was on the ground, the writing was most certainly not Jing Yuans, explaining you had been naked outdoors and they only had time to get your clothing on before leaving for other duties. 

Slowly getting up, you get freaked out by how high up you were just by standing. How on earth did you get this...different? Jing Yuan didn’t give you anything strange, right? Surely not, perhaps this was a strange dream you were having.  

“Excuse me, are you alright?” You hear someone ask as they come into your line of sight.

You open your mouth, a confused chirp coming out, and the other person becomes thoroughly confused. 

“Let’s take you to a doctor...” They trail off, you following them as you try to get used to the legs you had now. Your arms extended whenever you went down stairs, many people saw on your short walk, and all you were thinking was ‘when can I wake up from this horrible dream’.

The doctor examined you and found nothing wrong - well, besides the obvious ‘this patient does not exist’ statement after you shake your head when you were asked about your date of birth and your full name. Word spread quite quickly about the strange bird person that showed up out of nowhere, and you learned very quickly that your way of speaking was not normal for anyone around you.

So, you opt to stay silent and live the way you used to. People were kind enough to give you bread, something you found to be patronising and far too filling for your own liking as you attempt to stomach the looks people gave from a distance. It was embarrassing, seeing the people gawking and taking pictures of you before a guard shooed them away, scolding them for being disrespectful. You had to stop eating bread - your body could take it fine (as a human), however your bird mind still insisted it was unsafe for you to continue eating.

You didn’t see Jing Yuan around, which brought you the false hope that maybe this was a horrible dream, and he would be poking you lightly to wake you up. 

--

Jing Yuan grew concerned when he realised you weren’t in your designated spot. With the other birds, he knew not to worry at all about them as they wandered around as they pleased. With you, on the other hand, you naturally slept in your usual sleeping spot and waited for him to wake up, hopping along and chirping when you saw him wake up. Try as he might, he couldn’t rest easy with the thought of you not being safe. He didn’t know what happened with you, and he was hoping to find you one day. 

One evening, a divination revealed to Jing Yuan that you had changed forms. What to? That was not clear, however it gave Jing Yuan a big clue as to what you were not.

--

“My name is Tingyun, the Amicassador for the Luofu Sky-faring Commission merchant guild.” You hear an unfamiliar voice start, sitting across from you. “Who are you?”

You open your mouth, closing it, and then open it once again. This lady looked trustworthy enough, yes, but you learned very quickly that people looked at you strange whenever you spoke. 

“Not a talker? That’s okay!” Tingyun smiles, pulling out a box. She opens it, revealing a baked potato. Your eyes brighten up, Tingyun giggling as she gives you a fork to eat the potato. “I saw people kept giving you bread, and you started throwing it away, so I figured I’d give you something else.”

You were thoroughly enjoying the potato, nodding as you let out a satisfied chirp. 

“I haven’t seen you here before, could you tell me where you’re from?” Tingyun pries in once again, you thinking to yourself before answering with a tweet. 

--

Jing Yuan had heard someone talking with what sounded like a bird, and immediately he drops what he was supposed to be doing as he searches for the source of the bird sound.  

When he turns the corner, making eye contact with you, your eyes widen in recognition as you open your mouth before proceeding to cover it with your hands. Jing Yuan decides to sit at the table as well, the three of you now trying to think of what to say. 

“I was hoping to get some clues as to where a bird of mine has gone to.” Jing Yuan hums out loud, looking around to find another possible bird noise he must have heard by mistake. “They’ve been gone for a couple of days, and it’s not like them to be gone.”

“What do you think?” Tingyun teases, seeming to connect the dots very quickly as both of them turn to face you.

You open your mouth, hesitating before Tingyun gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up, and you communicate your way of saying ‘I think it’s me’.

“Ah, so this is where you went.” Jing Yuan sighs out of relief. “Thank you for looking after them, Tingyun.” 

Tingyun nods, leaving to get back to her usual work as Jing Yuan begins to explain to you that he could arrange a room for you. You agree, the relief hitting you as you realise he isn’t going to abandon you because you are no longer in bird form. He explains the possibility of you being an assistant for him, or perhaps finding another line of work you’d enjoy, before reassuring you that you have time to get familiar with your new life.

[redgoldsparks]

March Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Full reviews below the cut. 

Slippery Creatures by KJ Charles read by Cornell Collins

Like many WWI vets, Will Darling struggles to find any kind of employment in England after he gets back from the war. In desperation he writes to a long estranged uncle and reconnects to him just before the man's death. Will inherits a used bookstore which harbors a dangerous secret. The recipe for a weapon even more deadly than gas is hidden somewhere among the 40,000 books and many boxes of papers his uncle left behind-- or so Will must assume, when he begins to receive threatening visits from both the War Office and also a violent anarchist organization. Seemingly by chance, a charming man named Kim Secretan shows up at just the right moment to offer Will his friendship, his help, and maybe more. There's an undeniable sexual attraction between them from the start, but Kim is full of his own secrets, and before long Will isn't sure if he's an ally or an enemy. This is a pulp romance with a satisfying amount of twists and turns. There were a few times in which I think Will fell into slightly obvious traps or showed less agency than he could have; but the high-tension ending gave him time to shine, and show off his own bravery and skill. I've been meaning to start this series forever and I'm pleased I finally made time for the audiobook. I definitely plan to keep reading the series!

The Secret Garden on 81st Street by Ivy Noelle Weir and Amber Padilla

A really delightful retelling of "The Secret Garden" by Frances Hodgson Burnett, but set in the modern day. The 1993 movie was one of my absolute favorites as a child, and this book hits all of the important emotional notes. I really liked the adaption of Colin's illness into anxiety, and the conversations about how Colin and Mary process their respective grief differently. Martha and Dickon are as cheerful and supportive as always, and Mary and Dickon's friendship feels genuine. The secret garden is as beautiful and healing on a rooftop in New York as in the English countryside.

Love Beyond the Body, Space and Time: An Indigenous LGBTQ Sci-Fi anthology edited by Hope Nicholson

This is a very short anthology, just 120 pages, which I think flew under the radar when it came out in 2016. It contains short stories from some very well known Indigenous authors, including Cherie Dimaline (The Marrow Thieves, Empire of Wild), Daniel Heath Justice (Why Indigenous Literatures Matter), and Darcie Little Badger (Elatsoe, A Snake Falls to Earth) among others. For me, the stand out was Darcie Little Badger's story about a Lipan Apache veterinarian on a spaceship to Mars, who has to be woken out of stasis sleep because of an emergency, and builds a friendship (or something more) with the Diné pilot. But all of the stories are very good, and I hope people still continue to find this collection even thought the indie publisher has now folded.

Property of the Rebel Librarian by Allison Varnes

June, a 12 year old bookworm, brings home a book with the word "witch" in the title and her very strict parents freak out, confiscate it and all other books in her room, and the bring up the issue to the principle of her middle school. June got the book from the middle school library, and very shortly the librarian is suspended and nearly all books have been removed from the shelves to be reviewed by a panel. Teachers are told they cannot assign any reading outside of the approved curriculum, and students are threatened with detention if they are caught with an unassigned book. June loves book too much to roll over- she starts lending books to fellow students out of an empty locker, dubbing herself 'The Rebel Librarian'. This is a quick and easy read, which I would have enjoyed a lot at age 12. However, I checked it out because I am a trans author of a book which had been facing a series of bans and challenges all around the country. The patterns that I am seeing in the current wave of book challenges is this: books with queer themes, books on the history of racism, books by POC authors, and books about sexual health, sex ed, and abortion are the books being hit the hardest. None of those topics ever come up in Property of the Rebel Librarian, and June's parents don't seem to have any particular political or religious stand point- their only motivation is an intense, manic desire to control their child for her "safety". Making the book bans in this middle grade novel more explicitly about queer books, trans books, books by POC authors etc would have made this narrative much more political- and possible made the book itself more vulnerable to the exact kind of book challenges that it talks about! I can see why the author chose to tell a simpler, smaller story. But I do think a lot of depth was lost to me, an adult reader, by making the logic behind the bans apolitical and rather tame.

The Magical Language of Others by E. J. Koh, read by the author

The author and narrator, Eun Ji, was born in the US to Korean parents. When she was 15 and her brother 18, her parents decided to move back to Korea for a temporary job which was only meant to last three years. They left Eun Ji behind in California with her brother. Instead of three years, her parents were gone for seven years and Eun Ji struggled with anger, isolation, and loneliness through her teenage years. This pain sent her searching for family stories: of her grandmother Kumiko who survived WWII and the Jeju Island Massacre; of her grandmother Jun who survived years of her husband's infidelities until she died seemingly of a broken heart. Of her own mother, orphaned early, and her decisions to be present for siblings rather than her children. Eun Ji moved through identities-- a student, a traveler, a dancer, a poet-- and through languages-- Korean, English and Japanese-- trying to find her place in the world and a way to forgive her parents for leaving her. There's a lot of pain in this story, but the ultimate message seems to be that the only way to move past it is to face it and name it.

You Can't Say That! Thirteen Authors of Banned Books Talk about Freedom, Censorship, and the Power of Words edited by Leonard S Marcus

An excellent series of interviews with authors who have faced book bans and challenges in the past. In the current surge of book censorship, it was helpful to remember that waves of book challenges arise up every few years, and authors and librarians continue to face them and in the majority of cases, the books are returned to the shelves. The editor, Leonard S Marcus, is a skillful and well-researched interviewer who draws out stories of the authors own childhoods, their inspirations, and what actions they decided to take when their works were challenged. These actions varied greatly: some authors wrote letters of support for every community facing a challenge and traveled and spoke widely. Others chose to do nothing, deciding that the defending of books was not the business of a writer of books. RL Stein in particular states "Early on, I learned that the number one rule is: never defend yourself. I was taught that lesson by a media coach when I was getting ready for an interview with the Today show." Angie Thomas best summarized the feelings I have been having as I see Gender Queer banned and challenged: "When you ban a book, what you are essentially doing is telling the kids who see themselves in that book that their story makes you uncomfortable. That they make you uncomfortable... you're saying I don't want to know more about you. I don't want to know you. That is the message that censorship sends."

Across a Field of Starlight by Blue Delliquanti

Lu is a happy, cheerful child of the Field Commune, a utopian community of scientists and artists who travel around the edges of the universe to avoid the massive conflict in the center- a war between the Ever-Blossoming Empire and the Firebreak rebels. Lu encounters Fassen, a war orphan, on a neutral planet on the wreck of a cruiser, helps them summon a rebel ship, and gives them a communication device which allows them to stay in touch. As young adults, Lu conducts solo scientific surveys, while Fassen trains as a soldier in the rebel army. The second meeting of their life occurs when Fassen flees with stolen technology, and brings the war right to Lu's doorstep. This is a rich, diverse, and extremely queer sci-fi story which I’ve been highly anticipating! In an interview, I heard the author call this the story of "a long distance friendship between a kid from a Star Trek world and a kid from a Star Wars world" and that summary does capture some of the book's flavor. I loved the extreme contrast of the two societies, and how clearly they shape the choices each teen makes, and the things they are capable of imagining. The art is gorgeous, full of beautiful and thoughtful colors, and the characters and ships are all grounded in solid design up satisfyingly unique. Definitely recommend.

The Greatest Thing by Sarah Winifred Searle

Winifred is a talented artist, a lover of comics and fantasy, who struggles with loneliness, low-self esteem, a borderline eating disorder, insomnia, and depression. Her two closest friends both left her high school at the end of the previous year, and she starts sophomore year with a sense of dread. Luckily, a friend she had drifted apart from in middle school takes Winifred under her wing, and she also makes two new friends in her creative independent study class. Rich, rebellious April is always ready to pull people into her orbit and her projects; quiet, queer Oscar is her willing sidekick. Together, the three begin working on a fairytale zine series in which Winifred finds a powerful outlet for the emotions she feels unable to share. But her secrets begin to separate her from her friends, who in turn don't share the real depths of their own struggles. This is a soft, slow, gentle story of a queer fat artist slowly coming out of her shell and into the power of her own creative voice. I really enjoyed the nuanced portrayals of friendships, and watching Winifred grow. Some of the information at the start of the book was revealed in a slightly awkward order, which made the first 1/3 a bit choppy; however, the story settled down by the middle and finished strong.

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Welcome to the book I will be shouting about all year!! I read this book in two days and I loved it! The main character, Sol Katz, is trans, and Jewish, and works in archives. He also happens to be a vampire. In this book, vampirism is like a chronic illness, and indeed, Sol didn't become a vampire via a bite but via a medial intervention when he was dying of tetanus. Throughout the story he has to regularly visit a blood clinic to get transfusions, and it is as underfunded and grim as any part of the US healthcare system. Sol is also a fan; he was an active member of the fandom for a 90s sci-fi TV show called Feet of Clay, a kind of X-Files/Star Trek/Twilight Zone mix. When the lesbian showrunner of Feet of Clay passes away her widow donates all of her papers to the historical society where Sol works. He is very excited get to read drafts of an unfinished novel included among them. He also has an immediate spark of attraction with the widow and they develop a deeply trans and queer relationship that is so satisfying. It hits so hard. And also... the papers might be haunted? I don't want to say anything else about the plot because this is quite a short book actually, with TV scripts, email threads, and text messages mixed in with the prose making it read even faster. I can't recommend it more highly. Everyone go read it!

These Are Love(d) Letters by Ames Hawkins

A literary exploration which mixes nonfiction and memoir surrounding the theme of love letters. The author's parents met, fell in love, and then courted through a series of letters all in one whirlwind summer of 1966. Years later- after her parents divorced, after her father came out as gay, and contracted HIV- the author's mother passed on the series of 20 letters from 1966. The author, who also grew up to be queer and an artist, weaves in memories, quotes, and research to build a story of a relationship beginning and ending, of her father's illness and eventual death, and his creative and destructive impulses. Many other famous love letters are discussed including those written by Emily Dickenson, Radclyffe Hall, Janet Flanner, Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West. The book itself is full of collage elements and interesting use of handwriting and ephemera in the design. It made me want to re-read Nigel Nicholson's Portrait of a Marriage, another book written by the child of queer artists (Vita Sackville-West's son) and also catch up on my correspondence.

[massivedrickhead]

Hiiii can you pretty please do a follow up to the one shot of chloe hitting Beca which her car?!

Read part 1

Read on AO3

Beca limped her way towards the front door of her apartment, fumbling with the keys as she tried to get them out of her pocket.

“Let me,” Chloe said, taking them from her.

“Thanks,” Beca said, leaning heavily against her crutch. The pain in her ribs and pelvis were really starting to make themselves known now.

Chloe unlocked the door and held it open for Beca.

Chloe wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but Beca’s apartment was nice, if not a little bare.

Knowing what Beca’s mental state had been like before the accident, Chloe had been picturing a bit more of a mess, but the apartment was clean and tidy. The only thing that looked out of place was the note on her coffee table.

Chloe looked away, and tried not to imagine what was written on it.

“Thanks for the ride,” Beca said. “Do you wanna stay for a coffee?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, smiling, putting Beca’s bag on the floor. 

“Can you, uh, help me make it?” Beca asked, embarrassed.

“Yes,” Chloe said, grinning even more, glad that Beca was actually asking for help. “Of course.”

Chloe followed Beca into the kitchen, and switched the kettle on.

“The mugs are in the cupboard above the microwave,” Beca said. “I can’t stretch up to reach them.”

“I got it,” Chloe said, taking down two mugs. “Sugar?”

“Yeah like, half a tea-spoon,” Beca said. “Do you want milk?”

“Please,” Chloe said, finding the cutlery drawer and adding instant coffee to both cups and sugar to Beca’s. Beca grabbed the milk out of the fridge and placed it on the counter. “Great teamwork.”

Beca laughed. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Well that was adorable,” Chloe said, laughing as she added a splash of milk to her mug. “Milk?”

“No thanks,” Beca said, putting it back in the fridge. 

Chloe picked up the two mugs and followed Beca back into the living room. Beca eased herself onto the sofa, and then picked up the note she’d left. She held it in her hands for a few seconds without unfolding it, before she crumpled it into a ball and tossed it towards a small waste paper bin near her desk.

It missed by several feet.

“Good shot,” Chloe said, laughing softly.

“Give me a break,” Beca said, laughing too. “Several parts of me are broken.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Chloe said, moving towards the crumbled ball of paper. She felt Beca’s hand close around her wrist.

“Please… Please don’t read that,” Beca said, the smile gone from her face, her voice quiet.

“I won’t,” Chloe said, softly. “I just don’t want you to have to bend over to pick it up later.”

Beca nodded and let Chloe’s arm go.

Chloe tossed the note into the trash, and returned to the sofa.

They drank their coffee and Chloe told her all about the animals she treated that day. 

She could see Beca sinking further and further into the sofa, her grip on the mug beginning to slacken. The caffeine clearly couldn’t compete with the strong pain medication she’d taken once they’d sat down.

“Let me take that,” Chloe said softly, taking the mug out of her hands and setting it on the coffee table. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Beca said, laughing and rubbing at her eyes. “Sorry.”

Chloe cocked her head. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m falling asleep in the middle of your story about… hamsters?”

“Gerbils,” Chloe said, grinning. “It wasn’t my most exciting story, I’ll admit.”

“No, it was great,” Beca said. “I’m just…”

“On a lot of pain meds?”

“Yeah.”

“And if this was any other day you’d be riveted by my story about gerbils?” Chloe asked.

“Of course,” Beca said, laughing. “I honestly think Universal will be on the phone trying to buy the movie rights.”

“Good to see the drugs aren’t affecting your sarcasm,” Chloe said grinning.

“My personality is like 80% sarcasm so that’s a good thing,” Beca said, feeling her eyes wanting to close again.

“You want some help getting to your room?”

Beca nodded, and Chloe helped her to her feet.

“You’re a really good person, Chloe,” Beca said, as Chloe helped her to her room and onto her bed. 

Chloe smiled but shook her head. “I’m not that great. I have this thing where I run people over with my car. Do you wanna change into some pyjamas or something?”

“Oh, am I not your first victim?” Beca asked, grinning.

“No, you’re my first,” Chloe said. “But I think I’ve got a taste for it now, you know?” Beca laughed and winced. “Pyjamas?”

“Bottom drawer,” Beca said, her eyes momentarily screwed up as she waited for the pain to pass. When she opened them, Chloe was holding out some pyjamas for her, a look of concern on her face.

“I’m fine,” Beca said. “And anyway, it’s a good job you did hit me, remember?”

“I remember,” Chloe said, softly. She turned around so Beca could change. “Do you… Do you wanna talk about any of that?”

“Not right now,” Beca said, struggling to change without hurting herself more. 

Chloe was itching to turn around and help, but she knew she had to let Beca ask for it. She had to draw a line somewhere.

“Can… Can you help?” Beca asked after a few minutes of struggling. 

Chloe turned and helped Beca change.

“You should have been a doctor or something instead of a vet,” Beca mumbled as she lay down and Chloe pulled the blanket up so it covered her.

“I thought about it for a while,” Chloe said, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of Beca’s face. 

“How come you didn’t?” Beca asked, closing her eyes at the contact.

“I get too attached to people,” Chloe said, softly. “Too involved. Harder to do that with animals.”

Beca didn’t reply because she’d already fallen asleep. 

Chloe left a note on her bedside asking her to text her when she woke up, and to call if she needed anything.

She went into the kitchen and took some mugs, bowls, and plates that were all in the higher cupboards and placed them on the counter so Beca wouldn’t have to stretch up to reach them. 

She then headed back to the living room to put on her coat and shoes, and her eyes fell on the small bin which contained Beca’s note.

Chloe wondered who it had been addressed to, if anyone.

She thought about what it might say, even though she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know. 

She took a step towards it before remembering the look on Beca’s face when she asked her not to read it.

She left the apartment and pushed it from her mind. If Beca wanted her to know, she would tell her.

-

Beca: Hey, just woke up. Thanks again for helping me last night. Once I’m fully healed I’ll have to think of a way to repay you xx

Chloe: You could take me out for dinner? Or let me take you out for dinner? xx

Chloe: Either way, I want to eat dinner and I want you to be there xx

Beca: It’s a date xx

Beca: Did you move all my shit out of the cupboard so I didn’t have to reach to get it? xx

Chloe: Yeah, that’s okay right? xx

Beca: It’s like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you xx

Chloe: You’re welcome :) xx

-

Chloe: Morning sunshine, how are you feeling? xx

Chloe: It’s been a few hours, can you give me a text back so I know you’re okay? xx

Chloe: Bec, I’m freaking out, please answer my calls? 

Chloe: I’m coming over.

Chloe was feeling sick with worry as she drove to Beca’s apartment. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Beca had seemed fine when Chloe left the night before, but it wasn’t like her to not text back or answer Chloe’s calls.

She’d been out of the hospital for a week now, and seemed to be doing a little better, physically, but she still hadn’t talked to Chloe about any of the other stuff going on with her.

The elevator ride seemed to last a lifetime, stopping on every floor to let people in and out.

When she finally made it to Beca’s door, her hands were shaking as she knocked.

“Beca?” She called, pressing her ear to the door to see if she could hear any sound of movement. “Beca, please open the door. I don’t know if you’re mad at me or what, but I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” If Beca could hear her, she didn’t answer. Beca had given her a spare key for emergencies, and although Chloe didn’t know if this constituted and emergency yet, she didn’t want to take the chance. 

She unlocked the door and entered the apartment.

“Beca?”

Chloe could hear the sound of running water and followed it to where Beca’s bathroom was. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Beca?”

“C-Chloe? Chloe is that you?!”

“Can I come in?” Chloe asked, relieved to hear her voice, but terrified of the way it was shaking.

“P-please,” Beca said. “I n-need help.”

Chloe opened the bathroom door and found Beca in the bathtub, the shower on, spraying water everywhere, the shower curtain on top of her.

“I s-slipped,” Beca said, her teeth chattering.

“Oh my god,” Chloe said, rushing in and switching off the shower which was now freezing cold. “Jesus, Beca, how long have you been in here?”

“S-since this m-morning,” Beca said, shivering violently. “I c-couldn’t g-get up.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay, we’re gonna get you up and get you warm.”

“S-sorry,” Beca said.

“Shh, don’t be sorry,” Chloe replied. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I s-should have b-been more c-careful,” Beca said, watching as Chloe grabbed a towel. “It’s t-too f-fucking hard trying to shower w-with this th-thing on my a-arm.”

“It’s okay,” Chloe said. “I’m gonna move the shower curtain okay? And then I’m gonna cover you with the towel. I’ll try not to look.”

“‘K-kay.”

Chloe pulled the fallen shower curtain off Beca and wrapped her in a towel, trying to keep her eyes averted as best she could. Water had soaked the bathroom, so the clothes Beca had brought in with her were drenched.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Chloe said, crouching down to lift Beca out of the tub. “Put your arms around my neck. I’m gonna try and do this without hurting your ribs, but I apologise in advance if I do.”

“I-it’s ok-kay,” Beca said, putting her arms around Chloe’s neck. “T-too numb t-to f-feel anything a-anyway.”

Chloe placed an arm under Beca’s legs and one behind her back and lifted her up. Beca bit down on her lip hard as the pain in her ribs spiked. She was lighter than Chloe expected and Chloe could feel her trembling against her. She took her into the bedroom and gently lowered her to the bed.

“Th-thank you,” Beca said. 

“Are you hurt?” Chloe asked, grabbing pyjamas out of the drawer.

“H-hard to t-tell,” Beca said. “Th-there’s a l-lot of pain but I d-don’t know if a-any of it is n-new.”

“Did you hit your head or anything when you slipped?”

“I d-don’t th-think so,” Beca said. “I s-sort of f-fell on my s-side. M-my arm t-took the b-brunt of it. E-everything else k-kinda l-locked up. I c-couldn’t m-move.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, tears burning her eyes. “It’s okay, you’re out now. Do you think you can put these on? I’m gonna make you a hot water bottle. You should eat something too. And take your meds.”

“N-not h-hungry,” Beca said. “I j-just w-wanna get w-warm and sleep.”

“You’ve been in there for hours, Becs,” Chloe said. “You have to eat something. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

She grabbed Beca’s hot water bottle and headed for the kitchen. She made a grilled cheese while she waited for the kettle to boil, and tried to control her tears. She thought about what would have happened if she hadn’t come over to check on her. If she hadn’t been given a spare key. If she hadn’t offered to help Beca in the first place.

How long would she have been in there? Would her strength have come back to her eventually, or would she have stayed in there until someone found her? And who would have found her? The same person she left that note for?

Her thoughts were spiralling as she watched steam start to rise from the kettle, and the sound of it clicking off made her jump.

She filled the bottle and made Beca a mug of chamomile tea. She grabbed her meds, tucked the bottle under her arm, and carried the tea and grilled cheese through to Beca’s room.

“Here you go,” Chloe said, putting the tea and sandwich on her nightstand. 

Beca had managed to change and had climbed into bed, her hands still shaking. She gratefully took the hot water bottle and wrapped her arms around it.

“How bad’s the pain?”

“B-bad,” Beca said. “A s-solid e-eight out of t-ten.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“N-no,” Beca said. “P-please. I j-just want to s-sleep.”

“Okay,” Chloe said with a sigh. “But you can’t take any painkillers unless you eat something first or you’ll get sick.”

Beca let out a small huff of resignation and picked up the plate with still shaking hands.

While she ate, Chloe went into the bathroom, re-attached the shower curtain, and cleaned up the mess. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Beca said, setting down the empty plate. She swallowed some painkillers with a mouthful of tea and settled further into the bed, warmth spreading through her chest.

“I know,” Chloe replied. She sat on the edge of Beca’s bed and pressed a hand to her face. It was still cold, but not as bad as it was before. The shivering had died down too. 

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” Beca said, putting the half-empty cup on her nightstand. The meds were doing their work, and Beca could feel the pain easing off. “I don’t know how long I’d have been there if you hadn’t.”

“I’m just glad you gave me a key,” Chloe said, her hand now stroking through Beca’s slightly damp hair.

“That feels nice,” Beca mumbled, closing her eyes.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Beca,” Chloe said. “I was really scared when you didn’t reply to any of my texts. I… I really like you.”

Beca didn’t answer immediately, and Chloe assumed she’d fallen asleep. When she stood up to leave, she saw Beca’s hand reaching for her. Chloe took it and held it.

“Stay,” she mumbled, her eyes blinking open slowly. “Please. Please stay with me.”

“Of course,” Chloe said. She kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed beside her, hoping this was what Beca meant.

Beca rolled over and cuddled into her as best as she could. “Is this okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, smiling as she put her arm around her. “More than okay.”

“I really like you too,” Beca said, before she relaxed into Chloe’s side and fell asleep.

-

Chloe: I’ve had a really bad day, can I come over? xx

Beca: Yeah of course. Just let yourself in when you get here xx

It was a few days after the shower incident and Beca had just about recovered from it. She’d started texting Chloe before she went in the shower, and as soon as she got out. They had a deal that if Chloe didn’t hear from Beca 45 minutes after going in the shower, Chloe would come check on her. Luckily that hadn’t happened yet. Just in case it did though, Beca had started timing her showers for when she knew Chloe was out of work. She really didn’t want to be in a situation again where she was either trapped in the bathtub or causing Chloe to get in trouble at work.

Around 20 minutes later, Beca heard the key in the lock and she looked up from her laptop screen to see Chloe letting herself in.

“Hey,” Beca said, shutting her laptop and putting it on the coffee table. “Are you okay?”

Chloe shook her head, her eyes red and tear filled, a smudge of mascara on the top of her cheek.

“Come sit down,” Beca said, a look of concern flooding her face. “Do you want tea or anything?”

“No,” Chloe said, sniffing and wiping her eyes as she dropped onto the sofa beside Beca. “Sorry. I’ve just had the worse day.”

“What happened?” Beca asked, wanting to comfort Chloe but not knowing how to.

“It was just… Just really sad. This old guy came in with his dog, this… this beautiful 12-year-old Labrador. He was just the sweetest boy,” Chloe said, her eyes filling with tears again. “He had a limp and this man just assumed he’d hurt his leg when he’d been running around the garden. I did an x-ray and it was a tumour. He had… He was full of them.”

“Oh no,” Beca said, softly.

“He… He thought everything would be fine. That his dog would get some meds or maybe a shot and then they’d take him home. He said he’d got the dog after his wife passed. He didn’t have any kids or relatives that were still alive. This dog was all he had and he… He had to say goodbye to him today.”

“That’s really sad, Chlo’,” Beca said, placing a hand on Chloe’s arm, rubbing up at down softly. “But I bet the dog had the best life with that guy. And even though it might not feel like it, you helped that dog. He isn’t in pain anymore because of you. He didn’t suffer.”

Chloe wiped her eyes again but new tears replaced the old ones almost immediately. “I know,” she said, trying to control her crying. “And I know I shouldn’t get so involved. But it just broke me. The thought of him losing his only companion. Of him going back to his home with just a leash instead of his best friend. Having to get rid of all the dog stuff. It’s killing me.”

“Come here,” Beca said, pulling Chloe into a hug. She didn’t know how Chloe did it. How she managed to feel for other people so deeply. How other people’s pain became her pain. How she carried it with her as if she was the one suffering. She didn’t know how she could stay as strong as she did. 

She’d been friends with Chloe for a few weeks now, but this was the first time she’d seen her truly break down. It kinda scared her.

“I gave him my number,” Chloe said, once she’d managed to stop crying. “In case he needed someone to talk to or grab a coffee with.”

“Of course you did,” Beca said, laughing softly. 

She wondered if that’s how Chloe saw her too. As just another unfortunate person who needed help. Not a friend, just someone she felt sorry for.

She tried to push that feeling away, but with her mental state being what it was, it lingered.

She tried to focus on the fact that Chloe had come to her for help this time. That their friendship wasn’t one-sided. 

“Do you ever get tired?” Beca asked once their hug ended. 

“Of what?”

“Of taking on everyone else’s emotions? Of feeling them so strongly?”

“Of course I do,” Chloe said, letting out a teary laugh. “Look at me, Beca. It’s part of my job to put animals down when they’re sick and dying, I do it every week, more than once a week usually, and I’ve been crying about this for hours. If there’s a way to… to dull these emotions, I don’t know how to do it. And I wouldn’t want to.”

“You wouldn’t?” Beca asked, tilting her head.

“No,” Chloe said. “These feelings… These connections, they… They make me want to help people. They make me want to be a better person. They helped me meet you.”

“I think your car helped you meet me,” Beca said, laughing lightly, ignoring the vicious voice in her head which whispered you’re just another one of her projects.

She doesn’t feel the same way about you as you do about her.

“Fair,” Chloe said laughing. “But if I didn’t have this… obsessive thing, I don’t know if I’d have fought so hard to meet you properly.”

“If you hadn’t felt sorry for me, you mean,” Beca said, the negative voice in her head getting louder.

Chloe frowned. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to meet you because I felt sorry for you. I wanted to meet you because I’d hit you with my car and I needed to apologise and see that you were okay. Becs, we’ve been through this.” Chloe took Beca’s hands and felt relieved when she didn’t pull away. “I’m not here because I feel sorry for you. You’re… You’re not like the other people I’ve wanted to help before. I like you, Beca. I really fucking like you.”

Beca sniffed slightly and tried not to look at Chloe. “I really like you too,” she said. “Sorry for… for being this way. You came here upset and I shouldn’t be questioning your motives all of the time. I just… I get paranoid. I can’t believe anyone as good as you would want to spend time with me because they enjoy my company.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Chloe said. “I just want you to believe me, Beca. I want you to trust me.”

“I’m trying,” Beca said with a strained laugh, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m really trying, Chlo’. But every other person in my life left as soon as I let down my guard. I don’t want that to happen with you. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Chloe said, her hands moving to cup Beca’s face, thumbs sweeping across her cheeks to brush away the tears that fell. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But-”

“Beca,” Chloe said, cutting her off. “Look at me.” Beca did. Her eyes were full of fear and pain, preparing for rejection. She swallowed hard when she locked eyes with Chloe. Chloe’s eyes were full of a fierce determination. Chloe leaned forward so their foreheads pressed together, her hands were still cupping her face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Beca closed her eyes, letting more tears fall. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her breathing felt laboured. “I’m not good at this.”

“It’s okay,” Chloe said. “Open your eyes.” Again, Beca did, her chest still heaving. “Relax. Everything’s okay.”

Beca nodded and tried to control her breathing.

“Beca, are you having a panic attack?”

“No,” Beca said. “No, I’m fine. I just feel like I’m about to do something stupid.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Chloe asked, moving her head back slightly so she could look at Beca properly. 

“Uh huh,” Beca said, her eyes dropping to Chloe’s lips. “I’m just nervous. I don’t want to screw this up."

Chloe smiled. “You won’t.”

Beca closed the gap between them, her eyes falling shut as her lips met Chloe’s.

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

Round One

It’s time to read & vote!

The 13 fics that we received for this round can be found below, or on AO3 here! Each fic follows the theme [New Adult], includes the tropes [Roommates] and [Based on a Children’s Book Series], and has a central character focus on [Octavia Blake]! When you vote, please be sure to take into consideration the USE of all these elements, because, as with all other TROPED events, the purpose is to select the authors who best utilize the requirements!

The structure for voting is simple! Please rank the thirteen (13) fics, first (1) being your top choice, and thirteen (13) being your last choice! The first poll, you will be asked to rank all 13 fics, the way you did in the Qualifying Round. This will help us to break any ties, and we will use this ranking to reorder the authors for the Bunker Brackets for Round 2. The second poll will have five head-to-head pairings and 3 BYEs this round. Please select which author of the two fics you think deserves to move on to Round 2!

You can vote here:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/57WNY9B

————

the daughter of war  (Rated T) [Octavia & Niylah]

Summary: Octavia's been at Camp Half-Blood for half her life, and she has no interest in leaving. It takes a war, a near-fatal injury and the kindness of an unwanted roommate to show her that she has the strength to forge her own path.

You Choose Your Race (And Then You Run) (Rated T) [Octavia & Carole]

Summary: Octavia has always lived in her older brother’s shadow. Everyone knew her just as Bellamy’s little sister -- if they knew her at all. Homeschooled for most of her life, she had few friends of her own and was so excited to finally step out into the world and follow in her brother’s footsteps to be a political science major at Boston University.

Until she flunked out of college. She realized she isn’t her brother, can’t be her brother, and wants to run as far as she can in the other direction. She leaves the university with no direction and winds up in Willow Creek, Virginia, rooming with Carole Hanson who is taking a gap year to work at Pine Hollow and save up for vet school.

We Are The Wild Youth (Rated T) [Octavia & Josephine]

Summary: Between what has to be the worst roommate ever, and trying to find her place on the school equestrian program, Octavia is struggling to find her place in her second year of college. When she finds out she is finally going to get to compete in her first ever horse show, will anything actually go right?

courage, dear heart (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Now, this is a story you may know...

There were four children who went through a magical wardrobe, and became kings and queens of a magical land.

To the glistening eastern sea, I give you Queen Raven the Resourceful. To the great western woods, King Wells the Wise. To the radiant southern sun, Queen Clarke the Commanding. And to the clear northern skies, I give you King Bellamy the Benevolent. Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia

....but this is not the story to be told. This story is of a fifth child, who was hidden and forgotten.

To the holder of the compass, Octavia the Osleya, I give you the Champion of Narnia.

choices made in sp[r]ite (Rated T) [Octavia/Murphy]

Summary: Octavia scowled, lying back down on the bed, wishing for nothing more than to wake up from whatever nightmare she was currently residing in.  Sure, she had been a little bit unhinged since graduating from Haven City Prep School, but that didn’t mean Bellamy had to leave her in a cell just because she got in another fight!

or... and they were cellmates (oh my god, they were cellmates)

Once a king or queen of Narnia... (Rated T) [Octavia & Bellamy]

Summary: They grow up together. Twice. That would mess with anyone's head.

laying down my past i scream (this is not the end of me) (Rated T) [Octavia & Murphy]

Summary: The last person Octavia wanted to be stuck in a cell with was Murphy.

Not after he betrayed her, turned to the enemy's side.

Tried to kill her.

But maybe she didn't yet know the full story.

- or the Eragon/100 crossover where Octavia has a dragon and so does Murphy and they're stuck in a cell together

and now we're grown-up orphans (that never knew their names) (Rated T) [Octavia & Clarke]

Summary: In a world where every person is allowed to have only one child, Octavia Blake has lived her whole life in hiding. But when she's nineteen, she gets the salvation she'd given up on: a new identity.

Specifically, the identity of the recently deceased Josephine Griffin.

Even In Death May You Be Triumphant (Rated T) [Octavia & Indra]

Summary: Octavia was woken by the soft rustling of dirt being moved above her. The sound was methodical, growing louder and closer, before the thud of the shovel hitting her coffin lid signaled the start of her new life. Indra had come for her.

OR

Octavia and Indra Vampire AU based on the Cirque du Freak series (Mainly the Vampire Blood Trilogy)

It's about growing up (Rated G) [Octavia & Bellamy]

Summary: Bellamy and Octavia have spent every moment of her life together, but a trip back in time in a treehouse they had played in as a kid helps to finally break open the tense air between them, and lets them find new footing.

cause the big dog's moving in (Rated T) [Octavia x Murphy]

Summary: Murphy's new roommate came with a dog, which was really the best kind of bonus.

"He's a red lab," Octavia had told him when he'd asked. "And he's big."

Murphy had seen labs before and while, yeah, they were decently large, they weren't that big, but, really, he was just excited to have a dog by association.

Maybe he should have asked for at least pictures or something, though, because he definitely hadn't anticipated just how big Octavia's big red dog really was.

Do act mysterious. (Rated T) [Octavia x Levitt]

Summary: Octavia has learned a lot over her years in college.

She's learned that she has a knack for solving mysteries, that she wants to make a steady income in sleuthing once she graduates with her criminal justice degree, and most recently, that she has a thing for her roommate, Levitt.

So when Levitt's entire life implodes against his will, Octavia finds herself diving head first into solving the mystery of who the culprit is, determined to restore Levitt's name and bring the guilty party to justice.

(She just wishes it didn't involve interacting with all of her college exes in the process.)

The Unshakable Queen, Her Broken Mind, And a Heart Long Since Castaway (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Octavia kom Wonkru has had a rough week. Well more like a rough past six years, but who's counting? Prettyu soon though she finds the solace she's been looking for and she gets dragged into a fairytale, literally!

A land of stories and the 100 crossover that no one wanted but you got anyways!

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette the Vampire Slayer

Yeah I went there.

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

           The heavy book dropped down in front of her loudly. Marinette frowned as she looked at it. VAMPYR’ written in gold leaf on the front cover. It was old and black and looked to be the book in horror movies that the main character’s stupid friend reads that causes hell to break loose.

           But hell was already breaking free, apparently, and reading one book probably wouldn’t do too much more damage.

           She looked up at the man who had dropped the book in front of her. He was handsome in an awkward sort of way; tall, a good jawline, and floppy brown hair. He seemed to make a joke out of everything despite the darkness that seemed to lurk just behind his eyes.

Marinette always knew there was something… off about the school’s new librarian. It wasn’t just his young age, late twenties at most. It wasn’t his missing eye; rumor was that he was a war vet from the United States. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to go by Mr. Harris, and instead asked everyone to call him Xander. It wasn’t even that he was always seem to be there just when Marinette was about to transform to fight an akuma. No, it was something far worse…

           It was those godawful shirts he wore. The cut, the design, everything about them; they physically caused Marinette pain to look at them.

           And, now, it was also the fact that he helped her kill a vampire the night before. A freaking vampire. As if Marinette’s life couldn’t get more bizarre.

           The night before Marinette realized she left her sketchbook at school, not long after the sunset. She rushed back to get it. The bluenette had gotten to her classroom, and just placed her sketchbook in her bag, when she heard screams.

           She ran as fast as she could. What she saw would haunt her for quite some time.

           At first, it looked like some boy just wasn’t taking no for an answer as he had a crying girl pinned against the desk. The bluenette threw herself at the attacker, shoving him with all her strength. He landed against the wall and fell into a slump on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked the girl quickly. To her shook, once she got a better view, the girl turned out to be Aurore, her new best friend, though from the state the other girl was in Marinette was surprised she recognized her friend at all. Her blond hair was in disarray. Her makeup was smeared. Her shirt was bloody. Her neck was bleeding, Marinette finally noticed. “Oh god, what happened? What did he do to you?”

“He bit me!” Aurore gasped. “Jacob bit me! We were on date and he wanted to see my school. As he as he got me alone… he, he!” The blonde burst into tears.

“I just wanted a little snack,” A voice said. And they turned and saw the boy standing there behind them; blocking their exit. Marinette hadn’t even heard him get up or move. His face was twisted, his eyes a bit yellow; it was un-human. “Now I got two.” He taunted.

           Marinette stood in front of Aurore protectively.

“Is it an Akuma?” Aurore asked. “I thought Hawkmoth was gone.”

“No,” Marinette answered. “And he is.” Ladybug had defeated Hawkmoth nearly a before. Then she retired. Marinette was still the guardian of the Miraculous but no longer a hero. She just wanted to be a normal girl, do normal go things, not worry about the fate of the entire world. She didn’t know how she knew but the Asian girl could just tell that whatever this guy was, was about to burst that dream bubble.

The bluenette put herself into a battle stance.

           The monster laughed, “Are you going to fight me, little girl?”

           Marinette glanced at her bloody, wounded, and terrified friend, and glared back at Jacob, furious at what he did to her, “Oh, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

           Then the fight was on.

           Jacob punched high, but Marinette blocked him. He tried to punch her again, but Marinette blocked again and followed up with a front snap kick to his stomach. As he leaned forward from the pain, Marinette slammed her elbow into Jacob’s back.

           He sneered and threw himself at her. The two struggle back and forth, trading blows. At one time Jacob had her by the throat. Marinette struggled to break free from the grip on her next. She didn’t even notice Aurore come up, behind Jacob, with a chair and slam it over his hand.

“You are the worst date ever!” The blond yelled at him.

           Jacob snarled and moved to attack, only to be stopped by Marinette. The two quickly went back to fighting. However, no matter how hard Marinette hit him, the monster wouldn’t stop.

“Just stay down!” Marinette growled as Jacob hit the wall and falls to the floor, winded. “Seriously!”

           The door suddenly burst open, Marinette spun around, ready to take on whatever came next. Only to see Xander standing there. He looked frazzled and a bit out of breath, “Marinette, catch!” He yelled and then tossed something at her. Marinette caught it with ease and examined the… stake? “Go for the heart,” The man yelled.

“Go for what now?” Marinette asked, shocked. She didn’t have time to get an answer as Jacob roared behind her. He launched himself at her but Marinette, instinctually, neatly jams the makeshift stake into his chest. He falls back, a stunned look on his face before turning to ashes. Marinette couldn’t believe her eyes.

“What the hell?” Aurore asked.

           Xander shrugged, “Well; hell definitely has something to do with it.” He chuckled. “That was a vampire; a demon. Now he’s dust. Go home,” He told the two girls. “Wash up. Marinette, we’ll talk tomorrow after school, okay? I’ll explained everything.” Then he left.

           That was it.

           The night ended with Aurore sleeping over at Marinette as the blond had no idea how to begin to explain to her parents exactly what happened. No one would believe they got attacked by a vampire.

           Marinette spent the next day at school with a mind full of questions. She could barely focus. As soon as the last bell rang, she all but ran out of the class, straight to the library.

           Which brings her the present moment…

           Xander opened up the book to the page he had bookmarked. At the top of the page, written in a dark ink, Marinette prayed wasn’t blood, was the word: Slayer.

“That’s you,” He pointed to the word. “Scary, Supergirl; terrify monsters everywhere.”

“Me?” Marinette asked.

“You.”

           She gave him an uneasy look before turning back to the book. “In every generation there is a Chosen One,” Marinette read aloud. “She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.” She looked back up the man. “Me?”

“You,” He answered again. “And before you ask; I am one hundred percent sure. Willow told me.”

           The bluenette decided to ask who Willow was later. “I’m the Chosen one. I’m the Slayer.”

           Xander shrugged, “You’re a Slayer.”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes, “The book says: The Slayer. As in one.”

“Yeaaaahhh, the book’s a little out of date,” Xander explained. “Like over a decade out of date. That whole one slayer per Gen thing, totally went out of style.” He said. “It was a whole big thing. The hell mouth opened. A bunch of potential slayers were being killed. My best friend buffy, the slayer at the time, decided to say fuck that. And got Willow, my other best friend, a crazy powerful witch to make it so all potential slayers will be slayers. And you’re one of them. You got called on your fourteenth birthday. Did you realize you were stronger, faster; the works?”

           Marinette had but she assumed the time she spent as Ladybug had finally paid off. “Slayer,” She repeated weakly. How could she be a Slayer? She was only fifteen. Then again, she was only twelve when she was called up to be Ladybug.

 Xander nodded. “Which is great because I got sent to investigate the supernaturals going ons in this town and its turns out… Paris is on a Hell mouth. Whatever happened with that Hawkmoth guy caused its aura to go from vacant to Sunnydale levels. It’s attracting all sorts of nasties.  If anywhere in the world needs a Slayer right now, it’s Paris. We’ll need to train you for it fast.”

           Marinette took a moment to process. “…I just wanted to be normal. Start over. Couldn’t evil go suck in some other city?”

“Not the way it works, kid,” Xander said as he sat down. “And it’s not going to wait until you’re ready either. It never does.”

“Why me?” She asked. “I did my job. I didn’t want to but I did it anyway. Every day, fight after fight. I defeated Hawkmoth. I stopped his wish from ripping apart reality. I saved the world. Why is it always me that has to save everyone? I asked for this. I never wanted this!”

           Xander waited silently for her to finish, “…I know. And it’s not fair.” He finally said. “It’s never fair that some kid wakes up one day and suddenly has the weight of the world on her shoulders. Or that she’ll have to spend the rest of her life fighting the forces of evil. Buffy never wanted this either. You remind me a lot of her actually. The powers that be made her into weapon of good, and she never quite forgave for it.” He gave her a look. “And she knows you might not forgive her either.”

           It took Marinette a moment to understand, “There was only ever supposed to be one Slayer at a time. And she changed that.” Marinette could understand why Buffy thought she’d be angry. “Once upon a time, there’s was a slim possibility that I out of who knows how many girls slash potential slayers in the world could be The Slayer. Now I and all those girls are all Slayers.” She sighed. “But you said that back in the day, there were killing potential slayers left and right. So I guess its better that I’m not defenseless when evil comes a callin.” Marinette could hear the defeat in her voice, and she was sure Xander could hear it as well based on the look on his face.

           Xander sighed, “You don’t have to do this,” He told her. “There are other Slayers I can call to handle Paris. Faith nearly killed me when she found out I got the spot here. I can call her. If you want I’ll teach you out to fight, and that’s it. I never liked the idea of sending kids to war anyway.” Particularly since he used to be, what some would say, a glorified child soldier as well; him and the rest of the Scooby Gang. “But before you make your choice. I want you to watch something.”

           He pulled out a white crystal from his pocket and sat it on the table. “Vidtoalis,” He said and the crystal lit up and suddenly a hologram like image beamed out of it. A video played.

           A beaten up young blond woman, with cuts and wounds all over her face, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a look of determination on her face.

“That’s Buffy,” Xander told her.

           Marinette nodded but her eyes stayed on the image in front of her. It was like she was watching it on TV.

Buffy was in a room full of people who looked like life kick the crap out of them too. One of them was Xander, who looked a lot younger but still missing an eye.

“I hate this. I hate being here,” Buffy said. “I hate that you have to be here. I hate that there’s evil and that I was chosen to fight it. I wish a whole lot of the time that I hadn’t been. I know a lot of you wish you hadn’t been, either.”

           At that, that Marinette glanced down. Because, damn, if that didn’t hit the nail on the head.

“This isn’t about wishes. This is about choices.” Buffy told the room, told Marinette whose blue eyes was drawn back to the Dynamic woman. “I believe we can beat this evil. Not when it comes. Not when its army is ready. Now. Tomorrow morning, I’m opening the seal. I’m going down into the Hellmouth and I am finishing this once and for all. Right now, you��re asking yourself what makes this different. What makes us anything more than a bunch of girls being picked off one by one? It’s true. None of you have the power that Faith and I do.”

           Marinette listened to the speech that sounded better than any she’d ever heard before. Never had she heard someone sound so powerful, so strong, and to think Buffy seemed to have been facing what sounded like the apocalypse.

“So here’s the part where you make a choice,” Buffy said, and it sounded like she was talking directly to Marinette. “What if you could have that power, now? In every generation, one Slayer is born, because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men. This woman is more powerful than all of them combined. So I say we change the rule. I say my power, should be our power. Tomorrow, Willow will use the essence of this scythe to change our destiny.”

           To change Marinette’s destiny. Or maybe Marinette was always destined to be Slayer, except in another world it would’ve been after the last Slayer died; to pick up where she left off. To keep saving people, saving the world. Marinette never wanted to be a hero but she always wanted to help people.

Buffy raised her head high, “From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer. Every girl who could have the power, will have the power. Can stand up, will stand up. Slayers, every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?”

           Marinette already knew the answer. She would do what she did best; the right thing. The powers that be, or whoever, called her up. And if evil was coming to Paris, then Marinette would be the first to step up and try to beat it back. She looked up at Xander, “What do I have to do first?”

           He smiled, “Learn how to use a stake.”

“What’s your role in all this?” Marinette asked.

“For Buffy, I was loyal compadre, White Knight,” Xander answered. “Best friend forever. But for you. I’ll be your Watcher. I’ll train you, teach you, guide you, and prepare you for what’s to come.” He told her. “Rumor has it that there’s a Master Vampire lurking underneath Paris. As soon as he finds out you’re here, he’ll come for you.”

           That didn’t sound good. “And a master vampire is…?”

“Master Vampire; capital M, Capital V,” He stressed. “One of the oldest and strongest vampires in the world. A living nightmare for every Slayer.”

           Suddenly book on the nearby shelf toppled over, a “Sorry, Sorry!” Was heard. And then a, “Dang it, Marc.”

           Xander sighed, “Come out. Now.”

           A sheepish looking Aurore and Marc came from behind the book shelves. Marinette groaned, “Marc, Aurore, really?”

“The girl from last night,” Xander nodded, “And the boy who checks out all the DC rebirth comic; you got good taste,” He told Marc. “How much did you two hear?”

“Nothing much,” Marc said quickly. “Just something about a hellmouth. Master Vampire; Marinette having the fate of humanity on her shoulders. Small stuff really.”

           Aurore smirked, “And we saw that magic crystal show of yours. How does it work? Is it like a memory spell or something? Whose memory is it? Why was Marinette picked to be a Slayer? What’s a hell mouth?”

           Xander just blinked at them before turning to Marinette, “Friends of yours?”

           Marinette nodded, “Best friends.” Lila had kept her word and Marinette had been left friends a year before Hawkmoth’s defeat. It was fine though. She ended up changing classes and becoming friends with a bunch of other kids. She was even happier about the change once she learned that Adrien was Chat Noir, her old partner; a good guy but her friendship had become awkward once she found out his identity. She just couldn’t get over the weirdness of it; her sweet crush turned out to be the jerk from work who didn’t understand she wasn’t interested.

           The bluenette was happy to just move on.

“How does she kill it?” Aurore asked. “How we do help her kill it? Can you teach us to fight to? Before say no; keep in mind we’re going to help her anyway.”

“You can’t get rid us,” Marc warned. “We’re like roaches.” He smiled. “We could be like a team. Like the Avengers. Or Scooby doo. Or Like the Sailor scouts!” Then he sang. “Fighting evil by moonlight. Winning love by daylight. Never running from a real fight. She is the one named Sailor Moon.” He yelled the ending. “Like I would rock that skirt if I have to.”

“You totally have the legs to pull it off,” Aurore told him.

           Marinette paused, and then looked over Marc, “…Huh, you really do.”

           The dark haired boy looked touched, “Thank you.”

           Xander pinched his nose, “The earth is doomed.” And he nearly winced at how much he sounded like Giles at the moment. He wondered if this was how his father-figure felt when faced with the might that was Buffy, Willow, and Xander the first time he met them. He wondered if this was karma for all the shit they put Giles through while they were in High school. Or the G-Man just cursed the lot of them.

           He decided right then that he’d train all three of them. Now that they knew that magic was real, that there was real evil out there, Xander felt that he owed it to them to make sure that they were prepared. He would make sure that that they could handle whatever danger hid in the darkness. He’d owed it to every kid that didn’t know and didn’t stand a chance once the boogieman came knocking; every kid that never grew up. Xander owed it to Jessie.

           Xander trained them for a month before he decided to send them of their first patrol. During this time, he had been as hard a taskmaster as Giles ever was. If they weren’t studying one of the big books of monsters, they were learning how to kill one; how to defend themselves. Despite how many times the three ended up flat on their backs, black and blue, nursing wounds and calloused hands, and so exhausted they could barely get up; they never lost their spirit.

           Quite a few times, after a training session, did Xander overhear Marc talking about how cool it be to be like the superheroes in the comics and movies he worshiped. Aurore always animatedly agreed referencing some show called Supernatural; hunting things, saving people, the family business, or whatever. Or the blond would say how they’d be in one of Xander’s magic books one day; like Buffy or Angel. She talked about the two like they were Stars to written about and glorified. Marinette would always just laugh along because she agreed that being Buffy or Faith or any of Scooby gang was the coolest thing ever. The legendary Buffy Summers and her friends, who’s stories had been written down for history and future generations’ sake so they could learn from them.

           No matter how scary the tales were, the kids just admired the heroes in them who always managed to save the day on what seemed like a weekly basis.

           They really did remind him of a young Buffy, Xander, and Willow. And Xander would be damned if they ended up like them. The kids deserved better. (…So did every member of the Scooby gang if he let himself be honest; Cordelia, Anya, Angel, Oz, Spike, and even Wesley. They all deserved better endings then what they got.)

           Xander would make sure the kids learned a cold hard truth. And he’d use their first patrol to do it.

“…Wait, so you’re gonna trust us,” Marinette asked skeptically. “By ourselves,” She motioned between her and her friend. “To patrol. Alone, together.”

“Without you,” Marc tried to clarify, suspicion clear on his face. “You don’t let us do anything by ourselves.”

           Aurore nodded, “We can’t even read your precious books alone.”

           Xander pointed at her accusingly, “You tried to read a two hundred year old book while eating hot Cheetos. Giles would’ve banned you from the library. For life.” He took a breath to calm himself. “Yes, tonight, you’re going to patrol the graveyard from sunset until your curfew. Don’t die.”

           Marinette, Marc, and Aurore set out that night to guard a graveyard; which is something none of them ever expected to do in their lifetimes.

           It didn’t end well.

           Five vampires had clawed their way out of their graves. Marinette had only manage to dust one, when the other four came at them. It turned out it was a lot easier to slay a vampire in theory than in reality.

           Each of the three got the crap kicked out of them. It was only by the skin of their teeth that they managed to slay three of the vampires, the last got away, while not dying in the process. When they were done, they looked and felt like they got runover by a truck.

“That sucked,” Marinette snapped. She winced at she pressed down on the bleed stomach.

           Marc whimpered as he tried to stand up. He had been thrown against the headstone, and probably had a concussion. “Well I feel dead.” He told them. “And miserable. Nosferatu got away. That’s bad.”

“Bad?” Aurore whispered. “That thing is going to kill people. Bad doesn’t begin to cover it. Because whatever he does, that’s on us.”

“Because we couldn’t stop him,” Marinette closed her eyes. “Because we weren’t enough.”

           Marc shook his head, “We tried. We nearly got killed. My life flashed before my eyes. I spend way too much time staring at Nathaniel.”

“We’re not heroes,” Aurore glanced down. “I don’t know what we were thinking doing this. I, we, Ugh; we suck. How did Buffy and her friends do this every day?”

“Cause they’re awesome; born for it.” Marc shrugged. Then paused. He frowned. “Or maybe we didn’t pay close enough attention to the stories about them. We hyped them up as heroes too much. It wasn’t always easy for them; especially in the beginning. It was hard.”

“They lost a lot,” Aurore remembered.

“People died,” Marinette added. “They couldn’t save everyone; like that guy Jessie. It was the first person the Scooby gang knew that they couldn’t save. It still haunts Xander.”

“They all suffered,” Marc said.

           A slow clapping filled the graveyard, Xander stood there with a solemn look on his face, “Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy; F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote that.” He told them. “When you read about the things so-called heroes do, it’s easy to focus on the victory and overlook the details. Because the details are just boring facts; they don’t pop off the page like a blood-soaked battle does.  You don’t know who Miss Calendar is. You didn’t know she liked computer and could sass Giles like no other. You don’t care that Giles loved her.  At best, you remember her as one of Angelus’ victims. A long list that of names that belong to people that don’t matter to you. History doesn’t mourn her. It doesn’t mourn anyone. Instead, it spins out information and glorifies the battles and the heroes in them. It puts heroes on pedestals and turns them into stars to tell what they gave the world, but not all the world took from us.”

           Xander looked at Marinette, Aurore, and Marc. “Real life is different though. When it’s right in front of you, you can’t ignore the people who die like their just names on a history book. You have to live with it, and most of the time, you never forget it.” He looked down. “No matter what historians will say about you, or what song is written, or what the poets will. You’re not a Star. When you die, there is no blaze of fire. When someone you love dies, there’s no blinding light. And you’ll only remember the screams; and usually they’re yours.”

           Marinette swallowed hard. Marc stuffed his hands in his pockets. Aurore fought the tears in her eyes.

“I killed the last vampire. Go home,” Xander said. “Bandage up. Rest. We’ll go over what happened tonight tomorrow. I’ll patrol the rest of the night.”

           With that, the three said their reluctant goodbyes and left Xander standing in the graveyard alone.

           Xander watched them leave, and turned to look up at the heavens, at the powers that be, or whoever was responsible for those kids being called to fight, “I know what you want. I know what you think they’ll be. You look at them as see what the same thing you saw when you looked at Buffy, Willow, and me. You made them to be strong, warrior, soldiers, heroes. And you expect me to give them a sword, and willingly send them to battle like Giles did for us. But don’t you forget…”

           He paused, and clenched his tenth and his fists, “There more of us at the start. Good people who fought, bled, and died for this world. I don’t want to see this kids end up like them; just more martyrs for cause. I know the world needs them. The Scooby gang, what’s left of us, can’t live forever. The world needs their hope, their hearts, their strength, and bravery; and everything else their willing to give. And if they’re anything like us, they’ll give everything. And the world will take it.”

           It would take and take and take until there was nothing left; something Xander knew from experience.

“Fuck the world,” Xander said. “And fuck you too. Fuck anyone that’ll every take anything from them. And fuck you again for what they’ll become because they deserve more. We deserved more.”

           He glared up at sky but then his gaze softened, “Please,” Xander said. “Just please. You had a Buffy, a Willow, a Xander, a Giles, a Faith, an Angel, a Cordelia, Spike. And more before us, an Icarus and Perseus and Hercules. You have had so many heroes, so many martyrs. So please, I’m begging. Pick other heroes, the world has plenty and more will come. Let them live. Let them have their happy endings. They are young. They are just kids. Let them be. Let them live.”

           He finished and walked out of the cemetery; the weight of the world on his shoulders he was Atlas.

           He doubted they listen. The gods were never fair. Life was never fair. No one cares that heroes are human too. They are not gods. They bleed and cry like any. They only see the divinity in their blood, the path destiny put before them.

           Still Xander would tell them, tell everyone would could hear him. Even if they never listen, never believe. He’ll tell them anyone. He owed every fallen hero that much.

           It was the only thing he could give them.

           It was one of the few things he could still give himself.

[western-writer]

Betrayal Beyond Forgiveness

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Warnings: cussing, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death

Summary: The Whitetails conspire against Rook out of fear but things don't go the way they expected them to go.

A/n: Finally! I've been trying to produce content for the longest time but I couldn't finish anything to save my life. But here this is and I'm very happy with it. I also didn't proof read this but will be going back through as time goes on to edit things. Enjoy!

Betrayal is a funny thing. The stinging, burning sensation that pools and spreads like electricity throughout your chest and settles into a pit in your stomach. How it feels when that first jolt of Earth shattering realization leaves you reeling. Questions racing in your mind, yet somehow you’re unable to think or choke out the words caught in your throat. It’s funny because betrayal always comes from those you would least expect. That's what betrayal is. You enemies... you expect that much from them. You expect them to try to hurt you. You expect them you screw you over. But when it comes from those closest to you... it cuts deeper than you could imagine. 

Rook would’ve expected something like this from Jacob - a set up. But the Whitetails? Eli? Rook couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

It was just supposed to be a simple extraction of supplies the cult had taken. Stealth is her specialty, after all. Rook dropped the Peggies quick - almost too quick. To Eli’s dismay, this only drove his point forward and confirmed a suspicion he had for quite some time. Jacob’s trails had changed her and, the cult having been mostly under control, it was time to put her down. 

Eli and Tammy watched her on his cameras as she worked. Tammy wore a “I told you so" look as Eli ignored it. With a heavy sigh, he raised his walkie talkie to his mouth and spoke. “We proceed as planned. I’m sorry, Dep.”

Having no idea of this so-called plan, Dep went through the plan as she was told. The area is secure, now she needs to check to see if the supplies are there. 

This part felt a bit strange to Rook. Why should she check to make sure the supplies are there? If they sent her out on his mission, wouldn’t they already be sure they’re here?

Rook ignored her warnings going off in her head and she opened each container. Her heart dropped as she heard the familiar click and she knew what was coming. She had just triggered a count down to a bomb explosion. 

Thinking quickly, Rook turned and sprinted away as fast as she could, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The explosion went off behind her, sending Rook flying through the air. 

Eli thought the plan had gone off without a hitch as a Whitetail checked her pulse and found no sighs of it. “I think she’s gone, boss. I think the plan worked.” Eli could only hope that she died a quick death. Tammy breathed a sigh of relief. 

“It’s better this way, Eli. She would’ve been a danger to us all. I’ve seen what happens to people after they go through those trails. Now it’ll look like she went down a hero. No one will know.” 

Eli sighs, getting ready to announce her death, but there’s one problem. 

Rook didn’t die in the explosion. She was knocked unconscious and came to just in time to hear about the conspiracy to kill her. She laid there for who knows how long just letting it sink in. Her head throbbed, probably due to the conclusion and she’s pretty sure she has a few broken ribs. Rook was pelted with shrapnel and is bleeding from multiple wounds all over her body. Multiple bones are horribly damaged.

Jacob, she would’ve expected to do something like this. Not the people she called family. Not after all that she’s done for them. The Whitetails are playing with fire and if she lives through these injuries, they’re gonna get burned. 

“Deputy, Deputy, Deputy...” Jacob’s disapproving voice rings in her ears. “Bet you wish you listened to me now, huh?”

Rook opens her eyes a little bit, fighting off the drowsiness threatening to take over. Her vision is blurry and her ears still ring intensely from the explosion. She'll be surprised if she doesn't have some sort of hearing loss, even despite the ear plugs she wears.

It was sad seeing the fearsome Deputy laying here in a pool of her own blood. Having been betrayed by none other than the Whitetail Militia. Pathetic, really. 

Rook, being the stubborn woman she is, struggles to sit up, only to have Jacob slowly push her back down. He cracks a smile, finding a bit of amusement in this. 

“What do you want, Jacob?” she tries to hiss, but it comes out weak. 

Jacob sighs. “I tried to warn ya. You didn’t wanna listen. Now look where you are. Alone. Dying. How does betrayal feel?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rook manages to growl. 

Jacob laughs. “I’ll hand it to ya, kid. You’ve got some real nerve. I can respect that."

Rook coughs, blood ozing from between her lips and she rolls over. Jacob watches her, almost like he's studying her as she spits out the blood. There's not a lot, but it's enough for Rook to be concerned.

"You have blood in your lungs," he tells her.

"No shit," she rasps. "Why... are you here?"

Jacob chuckles, wiping some blood from her mouth. "I hear everything, Deputy. These are my mountains, after all. I heard the whisperings. I'm honestly surprised they followed through. Their plan would've worked perfectly had someone bothered to confirm that you were dead. They just screwed themselves, didn't they?"

Rook nods slowly, beginning to wheeze. Jacob sighs.

"I guess I've screwed with you enough. C'mon." He extends his hand down and slide it under her back, lifting carefully.

"W-what're you doing?"

"I can't let them go and kill my best weapon, now can I?" He puts his other hand under her back and lifts her up. Rook doesn't bother with trying to struggle or fight him. She doesn't want to die. Not yet and certainly not because of people she would've given her life for.

Jacob picks her up, carrying her as gently as possible as to not injure her further. She rests her head on his shoulder, feeling oddly comforted.

Jacob felt oddly bad for the Deputy. It was never a feeling he expected to feel toward the young rookie. He felt her breathing against him, slow and raspy, pained. Anger burned inside him. Maybe he had a soft spot for her. He has to admit he holds a fair amount of respect for her. She's doing what most people couldn't, wouldn't, or would die trying to do. If he's being honest, he feels responsible for putting her in this situation, but at the same time, this is exactly what he wanted so why does he feel so guilty?

News of Rook's death shook the county. Everyone felt the sting of the loss all while she laid at the Vet's Center recovering and healing. Deputy Pratt stayed by her side the whole time in utter disbelief that the Resistance would do that to her. It took months for her to be well enough to stand and walk around but once she crossed that threshold when healed quickly, though, her loyalties had shifted just a bit and she would never be the same again.

Jacob tried to persuade her to forget about the Resistance. "After everything they've done to you," he said.

"It wasn't the whole Resistance, Jake," Rook defended them. "Just the Whitetails. And that still doesn't change the fact that what you and your siblings are doing is wrong."

Jacob just rolls his eyes. "If one part of the Resistance did this, the rest could easily too."

"The actions of the Whitetails don't speak for everyone, Jake. There's still parts of the Resistance that have fought beside me and some people have given their lives for me. I can't just forget that."

"Sometimes I think you're too loyal, Rook. I really do."

Now it's Rook's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever you say, Jacob. I need answers and I intend to get them, whether you like it or not."

As Rook made her way out of the room, Jacob felt compelled to call after her, so he did. "Hey!"

Rook stop, turning to face him, seemingly annoyed. "What?"

"I just don't want them to burn you again. I don't want you to waste your energy on people that would literally murder you after all you've done for them. What if when you show up, they freak out and actually do kill you? I didn't save you just to have you be killed."

Rook would've be irritated with him if it weren't for the shock overriding her senses. This kind of vulnerability was incredibly uncharacteristic for Jacob, yet here he was. He showed her a side not many people had ever seen. His caring side. A side to him many people would argue is nonexistent.

Rook was confused at where the sudden concern came from but decided to brush it off - for now.

"It'll be okay, Jake," Rook responds, using her nickname for him to ease the tension. "They'll be too shocked to do anything."

Jacob watched her leave and sighs. At this point he feels a sort of obligation toward her and keeping her safe. The feelings confuse him greatly and he's unsure what to make of them. All he knows is that he hates it.

Rook stands in the doorway behind Eli, waiting for the perfect moment to make her presence known. She fights the angry trying to explode in her and reminds herself: you're here for answers, not to start a fight.

"Hey, Eli..." Rook says softly, making the man stop dead in his tracks and turn slowly.

"Deputy...?"

"Hey..."

With just a few strides Eli had closed to distance between them and hugged her tight. He was genuinely relieved to see her and know that he hadn't killed her. Guilt thumped in his chest like a drum as he held onto her.

"I thought you died..."

Rook had to admit, his embrace felt good. She wished she could forget the deception.

Eli pulls back and looks Rook in the eye. He notices that one has obvious damage to the cornea. Rook catches onto what he's looking at.

"Some, uh, some metal shaving managed to find their way into my eye during the explosion. Don't worry, it only took about 30% of my sight in that eye. My hearing though... I have about half of what I had."

"Dep - I am - I am so sorry."

"I also lost about 25% of my breathing capacity. Major concussion that will effect my cognitive function for the rest if my life. Broken skull and major brain bleeding. My left knee cap basically had to be rebuilt because of how shattered it was when I landed on it after the explosion threw me. My right ankle was broken, both wrists, my left femur, and both my radius and ulnar were pretty well mangled. Did I tell you that not only were multiple organs bruised, but my kidney had ruptured just a little bit? Oh and I had a ton of tissue damage, but I pulled through."

"If anyone could've done it, Dep, it was you."

"Yeah, it was me," Rook chuckles humorlessly. "After being left for dead on the ground... left to bleed out or die of organ failure... you'd never guess who found me but that doesn't matter right now." Rook takes a few steps into the Wolf's Den and looked around. The place was seemingly empty. "What matters is..." she trails off, turning to face Eli. "why'd you do it, Eli?"

A look of shock is plastered of Eli's face as he takes a step back. "D-do what?"

"Set me up, Eli. Why did you set me up? Why did you try to kill me? After everything I've done for you and this fucking county."

"I-I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. You were dangerous, or at least that's what they told me."

"You're smarter than that, Eli. Or at least I thought you were. Letting someone manipulate your thoughts like that... Who was it, hm? Was it Tammy? You know she never liked me."

"After the trials Jacob put you through-! She was terrified that he would use you against us. And I saw it Dep. How you took all those cultists down... it was unnatural."

"Are you fucking kidding me!? Seriously!? I have been fighting for my life, Eli! I've had to change to adapt my methods to fucking survive and you wanna say I'm dangerous because I had to get better? You really don't understand what I was up against. While you got to sit in here I was out there doing anything and everything you wanted me to do." She points to the door. "I was being kidnapped and shot and beaten. I killed for you and I wpildve DIED for you but THIS is how you repay me!? Fuck you, Eli. I thought you were family. I THOUGHT I could FUCKING TRUST YOU."

Rook steps forward, shoving Eli hard and he stumbles, falling to the ground. Rook stalks over, kneeling down next to him.

"You thought I was dangerous before? Get a load of this. Jacob saved me. That's right. Jacob. You know how much damage I could do if I wanted to? All I'd have to do is tell him where this precious hideout is and he'd come down on all of you so fast and so hard that you would never know what hit. You all would be dead before you could get your radio out. The Whitetails would be extinct and all it'd take is just a few words."

"You wouldn't dare," Eli hisses, glaring at her.

"Wouldn't I, though?" Rook answers dangerously. "All it'd take is a few words and your life would be snuffed out much like you tried to do to me. You involuntarily gave me so much power, Eli. Guess next time you'll check my pulse yourself, huh?"

"Dep... please."

Rook sighs, standing up and turning away from him. "And even though you'd fucking deserve it, I won't do that. But I will tell the rest of the Resistance what all of you did and let them decide what to do with you."

A crushing weight falls onto Eli. "I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. I never wanted any of this to happen."

Rook sighs and places her hands on the table in the main room. "You know I can never forgive you or any of the Whitetails for this, right Eli? I would've given my life for you guys... How am I supposed to forgive this? No. I can't. I just can't."

"I understand, Dep... I don't blame you."

Rook takes a deep breath and turns to him again, seeing that he has gotten to his feet. "I've been doing some talking and I've managed to talk Joseph down. They're not leaving but they'll stop targeting and recruiting unwilling participants as long as the Resistance leaves them alone."

"What does that mean for you, Dep?"

She smiles a bit. "I don't know... I mean I just experienced life altering trauma, both physical and mental. I have permanent brain damage. Another bad hit to the head could kill me. So I guess... early retirement. I'm partially blind, can't bear for shit anymore and get winded by walking for extended amounts of time so it's really my only option."

He wanted to say it again. He wanted to apologize until he lost his voice. He couldn't believe he had been so dumb. She will never forgive the Whitetails and neither will he. He will never forgive himself.

"Goodbye, Eli," Rook muttered as she left the bunker. All Eli could do is watch her leave and prepare for the chaos that is about to erupt. The Resistance will be furious with them. They'll be luckily if the rest of them don't kill them.

Rook found herself back at the Vet's Center and questioned herself for a moment before going inside. She could've gone anywhere but she chose here. She chose to come back.

Jacob is waiting for her as she enters his office.

"They thought I was a danger to them..." she mutters.

"Why?"

"Your trials... they thought you'd use me against them."

Just as Jacob feared, they had caught onto his plan. But she would never know that.

Surprisingly, Jacob walked over to Rook and hugged her.

She was stunned and almsot pushed him away before accepting the affection. God knows she needed it after the last few months she had. She never thought she'd find comfort in Jacob Seed but here she is.

And as for Jacob, feeling the younger woman in his arms did something to him. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want her to go. And he would do anything to make sure she didn't.

Some things are better left unsaid and Jacob is sure that this is one of them.

[jihyuncompass]

I'd like to request the RFA + V and Saeran with an MC who got radiation treatment for a medical condition, if that's alright with you! I got some radioactive iodine on the 18th for a severe thyroid problem, and I've been slowly been doing better ever since then

Hi there! I’m glad you’re doing better after your treatment! I’m sending you lots of good thoughts and vibes for feeling better. I did some research to try and write this accurately but I’m sorry if I get things incorrect but either way I hope you enjoy these!

Zen/Hyun

Zen is incredibly supportive of you. 

Even before you had your treatment he was always doing everything he can to help you. 

After getting your treatment he does everything in his power to make sure you feel comfortable. 

He tries to make sure your home as clean and comforting as it can be. 

He knows that you’re probably not going to be able to out into public places easily so he makes sure that he does all the grocery shopping beforehand so you have plenty to eat. 

If it makes you happy he’ll gladly perform musical numbers for you to entertain you if you get bored or need something to do. 

By far the hardest part for him is having to keep physical distance, he knows that it’s for his own safety because of the radiation but Zen’s such a physically affectionate guy that it sucks not being able to just hold you in his arms all the time. 

There’s a lot of air hugs and blowing kisses between the two of you.

Although he isn’t a fan of that part he’s happy you’re getting this treatment and will hopefully only get better from here. 

Yoosung

At first, when Yoosung learns that you need to get a radiation treatment he freaks out a little bit. 

He isn't quite sure what all that entails but he knows that it must be serious if radiation is involved!

You take the time to explain that it isn’t a dangerous treatment at all, and while you might feel crummy for a few days it’ll help you feel better. 

He starts to calm down a bit after you explain what the procedure is in further detail.

Yoosung decides to help you in any way he can, especially since he knows the first few days might be tough. 

He may be studying to be a vet but he knows a few med students at his University if he has questions or concerns he’ll reach out to some of them to ask questions about the more complicated medical aspects. 

For the first few nights after your treatment, he sleeps on the floor or on the couch to make sure that you get the bed. He doesn’t mind waking up with a sore back if it means you feel more comfortable. 

He cooks the food he knows you like, he knows that nausea can be a side effect of the treatment so he’s careful to make things that won’t upset your stomach too much. 

He’s so proud of you and is overjoyed when you start to feel better. 

Jaehee

When you told Jaehee you were getting this treatment she immediately did some research.

She did the same thing when you had originally told her about your health, at this point she almost knew more about your health issues than you do. 

Jaehee’s a very methodical person, she tends to think about things very scientifically. So she wants to know everything she can about this treatment you’re getting.

She learns all that she can and what the best ways to support you are. 

She actually changes the hours of the cafe during the first few days after the treatment in order to help you. 

Even if you aren’t able to go to the cafe Jaehee will bring home the best treats leftover from the day. 

Jaehee is actually a great person to have around for this because she’s not only a supportive person but someone who is going to do everything she can to manage any side effects you might experience. 

She’s a great cheerleader, you know that care and passion she puts into caring for Zen’s career? It’s even more intense with you and your everything. 

You can trust Jaehee to do a good job of being there for you, she’s so grateful to have someone like you in her life and she wants to make sure you can feel and be the best you can. 

Jumin

Once he learned about your condition he made sure that you were taken care of well. 

You were being seen by the best doctors in the country when you were given this treatment. 

He speaks with the doctors to understand what exactly this treatment does and any side effect you may experience as a result. He wants to know and be prepared for everything. 

The days leading up to it are defined by almost extreme amounts of careful planning. Jumin is determined to have you be as well cared for as possible. 

He’ll prepare the bedroom for you so it'll have anything and everything you could ever need. Since it isn’t safe for you to sleep in the same bed for the first few nights he insists on sleeping in the guest room so you’ll be in a place that’s familiar and happy for you. 

He also makes sure to have anything you would need in the penthouse or have someone always on call to go out and fetch things for you. 

He has a difficult time with not being able to be close to you, for a few days when he wants to talk to you he’ll sit a safe distance away and talk with you, he hates that he can’t be closer but as long as he can see your face he’s satisfied. 

If you want him too he’ll sit and read to you while he’s sitting nearby. 

His chef prepares the best meals for you, a perfect balance of healthy as well as light enough to not upset your stomach if you’re feeling nauseous. 

Honestly being with Jumin during this is ideal, he’s so attentive and as long as you’re with him you don’t have to worry or ask for much.

Seven/Saeyoung

He knew about your health struggles from the moment he did his original background check.

So he’s excited about the idea of you getting this treatment. Honestly, anything that will help you to feel better sounds amazing to him. 

Saeyoung has really good bedside manners if you need him to keep you positive or give you a good laugh he’s the perfect man for the job. 

But if you need him to be more serious he can do that too. Your happiness comes first for him. 

He does NOT like needing to be physically distant from you. Saeyoung is a pretty touchy-feely so that part is hard. 

Remember the cat robot? He upgrades it so it’s even better than before. Since he can’t be next to you physically he has the cat do it instead. (Now not only does it talk it purrs like a real cat!)

Sends you lots of sweet messages. They’re very dorky but they’re filled with that Seven trademarked charm that makes you smile and your heart race. 

Unfortunately, he can’t cook very well but he’ll order you whatever take out you want! And if the treatment messes with your ability to taste things he’ll make sure to get things with strong flavors or ones he knows you like to try and offset that. 

Likes making jokes about the fact it is a radioactive treatment. Expect lots of really bad spider man jokes. 

The second you’re able to sleep in the same bed together he declares the next day a cuddle day so he can hold you without interruption. 

V/Jihyun

V is an extremely caring person. He by nature wants to help everyone he can, the same goes for you. 

When he learns how this treatment could really help you he’s overjoyed. You’re one of his greatest gifts in life and he wants nothing more than for you to be the best and healthiest you can be. 

He’s very doting, he’s like that generally with you but he knows that you might have a difficult time with the side effects so he prepares ahead of time for what to do when you’re having a hard time. 

Maybe not the best when it comes to comforting words but his whole presence makes up for that in spades. 

Jihyun just gives off this very relaxing calming energy, so even if the side effects are bothering you there’s still this general sense of peace when he’s around. 

He’ll set up his easel nearby so you can watch him while he paints. He’ll create the most beautiful paintings of things you love. When he finishes them he keeps them close so you can see them, with the hopes that they’ll make you smile. 

He sleeps on the couch so you can be comfortable in bed but you keep the bedroom door open so you can still keep an eye on each other. 

Anything you could ever need or want he’ll get for you, since going out in public is difficult for the first few days afterward he’ll go out for you, he’ll get you anything you need or want. And oftentimes he’ll also come back with a little knick-knack or item he thought you would like. 

With V you feel comfortable, even when it may be difficult, you never doubt that he’ll be there for you. 

Saeran

Like this brother, Saeran also knew about your health situation pretty early on. 

While he doesn’t have the same kinds of health issues as you do he understands very well what it’s like to have poor health and how much of a toll it can take. 

He’s probably a little scared about the idea of it being a form of radiation. 

Like Yoosung you’ll have to explain it to him, that it isn’t dangerous for you to take and will actually probably help you a bunch. But afterward, you’ll have to be a bit careful since even though it isn’t dangerous, it’s still a radiation treatment. 

He feels a bit better after you explain but he’s still very anxious. You know there’s nothing you can really do about that part but you can tell explaining helped. 

After the treatment, he remembers to keep a safe distance from you as much as he can. He tends to be a guy who likes to have his space but you can see the longing in his eyes during this time. 

If Saeran goes out in public he only wants to do it if you’re there so after your treatment you have everything delivered to where you’re living. Thank god for 21st-century technology that now you can get your weekly groceries without leaving your house. 

He fills your living space with the most beautiful flowers he’s grown. Giving you flowers is one of the greatest joys of his life and this only increases while you’re recovering from the treatment. 

There’s a vase full of flowers in every room, it fills your living space with so many nice scents and makes your heart swell. 

The first week after your treatment may be a bit challenging, but the two of you both have the same goal, to be as happy and healthy as you can be. Together.

[howtobeapersonwithfibro]

Disability Sci-Fi: Alternate Universe Theo

Finally continuing my Disabled Sci-Fi series. Here’s one about Theo, an amputee who gets sent into an alternate reality by a meddlesome young witch. Enjoy! I’d love to hear what you think.

***

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is that the window isn’t in the right spot in his room.

The second thing he notices, as he swings himself to the edge of the bed and looks for his forearm crutches, is that he has two legs.

And then he freezes. For a solid three minutes. 

When Theo went to bed, it was in a small bedroom in a shoebox apartment he shared with his boyfriend in Pittsburgh. The walls were beige, not this clean white. Their bed was nestled beside the room’s one window, the only place it could logically go. 

And he had one leg, courtesy of an accident that occurred a few years before. 

This morning, everything felt wrong. He stood up, unaided--a feeling that was odd but that he vaguely remembered--and approached the window that was in the wrong place. He recognized the view from the one time he’d been there on a college tour. 

Harvard. He was in a dorm at Harvard. Once upon his time, this was his dream school. 

Then the accident happened, his mental health went to shit, and he decided to stay closer to home where his family could support him better. Ultimately, it had worked out. He’d taken a year off after high school, went to University of Pittsburgh, met Xavier, came out to his parents. 

So what the hell was this? Some kind of lucid dream?

He grabbed his phone from the side table and opened up Contacts, looking for Xavier’s name.

It wasn’t there.

Theo dialed the number he’d memorized months ago, and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard his boyfriend’s voice on the other end of the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Something… weird is going on. Where are you right now?” Theo paced as he talked, an old nervous habit that kept reminding him of his two feet on the floor.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

He shook his head. Xavier was always full of jokes, but now was not the time. This weird alternate-life dorm room was freaking him out. “Don’t be a smartass. It’s Theo.”

“Sorry, dude, I don’t know a Theo. You must have the wrong number.” Click. Call ended.

Theo stared at his phone. What the hell was going on? It’s like he’d woken up in a different version of his life, one that didn’t belong to him.

He didn’t know what else to do. He dialed Mom. She should be the same no matter what, right?

“Hi honey, what’s up?”

“Mom,” he breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was right. “The weirdest thing has happened. I woke up at Harvard, and my leg--”

“Oh, Theo. Slow down. This must be one of your panic attacks. Do you have your medication?”

Panic attacks were something he’d struggled with since the accident in his world, too. That happened when you were suddenly hit by a car, and the car drove away as you bled onto the blacktop. 

“But mom, the car accident--”

“Just breathe, Theo. It’s over now, remember? The doctor said it was amazing you only needed stitches.”

His mom was still talking, but he set the phone on the bed. He drew up his shorts to look at the spot above his knee where his leg was supposed to be amputated.

There was just a scar, fairly faded, a few inches long. 

He picked the phone back up, and found his mother still rambling. “Honey, why don’t you take a clonazepam and take the day off from classes? You’ll feel much better after some rest.” 

Clearly, she was not going to be much help in the “what the hell is going on” department. So he just said, “Okay, I’ll do that,” tolerated a few more reassuring comments, and then finally hung up.

Left without any other ideas, Theo got dressed and left his room to go wander around campus. He didn’t know what classes he was supposedly attending or who his friends here supposedly were, but it didn’t matter. He was looking for something, anything to tell him why he was suddenly here, in this life. 

Could that other life have just been a really detailed dream--and the accident caused just a mild, now-healed injury? But why couldn’t he remember anything about this place? Why didn’t it feel like his? He pinched his arm experimentally, but no magical awakening happened.

He found himself missing the muffled clacking sound of crutches that usually accompanied him as he walked. Who was he if he wasn’t Theo, the amputee? The anxious U of P student dreaming of vet school? Xavier’s boyfriend?

This was all wrong.

He was wandering uneasily down one of the paths when someone caught his eye. A girl with purple hair and piercings who had a mischievous, observant air about her. Not exactly Harvard’s type.

And he remembered her. Not her name, but her face. 

He’d met her yesterday. The real yesterday, in his world, which he was now certain existed.

He all but ran up to the picnic table where she lounged carelessly. He found himself wordless, but she simply quirked an eyebrow at him and said, “What’s up, champ?”

“Sorry, I’m, uh, having a bit of a weird day. But… do we know each other?”

She smirked knowingly, but said, “I don’t actually know a lot of Harvard boys.”

“Yeah, see, the thing is, I’m not…” He ran his hands through his hair, trying to figure out how to sound even relatively normal. In the end, he decided not to bother trying. “This is going to sound crazy. I think I met you yesterday, but… somewhere else. I was in Pittsburgh, and I lived there, and my life was different…” 

She stared at him a while, letting him think for a few minutes that he truly was crazy. Still somewhat amused, she finally admitted, “I remember you. I... may have come here to visit you today. To… check on my handiwork.”

“Your what?”

She hesitated a moment, then sighed. “Okay. See, like, I’m part of this... witches’ coven. Not, like, brooms and cauldrons and shit, but like, real spells and magic. And I’ve been wanting to practice this one spell I found, but my sisters told me not to, and you can’t just go around telling people you’re a witch and asking if they want a spell… so I just sort of picked someone. And it was you.”

So much for being sure of things again. Theo blinked. Several times. Took a few breaths. Found some words. “So,” he ventured, “Let’s just pretend for a second that magic is real and I’m not having a fever dream right now.”

“Sure.” She leaned back against the wooden table, as if this was an average day for her. 

“You… made this happen? Put me in this alternate life? But why?”

“Yes. And, honestly... I had to find someone the spell would work on. It involved finding a pivot point in someone’s life--a point that could have gone one way or the other, like, deciding whether or not to take a job, have a kid, or spontaneous accidents--and making it flip the other way. The overall world stays the same, but the ripple effect of the pivot-point moment is applied and the person’s world changes.”

He just stared at her.

“We have the ability to sort of… read people. So I saw you, struggling to carry a bunch of shit down the street with your crutches, and I got your vibe. A bit of your history. Bad accident, took your leg, now it’s mighty inconvenient for you. So I wondered if I could just… flip the pivot point and see if it fixed you.” She shrugged. 

“You didn’t fix anything, you crazy… witch,” he finished lamely, struggling for a more accurate word. “My whole life is wrong now. I’m at the wrong school, away from my family, my boyfriend doesn’t even know me…” 

“But you’ve got your leg, yeah?” She stood up from the table, as if she was satisfied with this conversation and ready to move elsewhere. She had a new excitement flowing through her expression. “So it worked! I can’t believe I did it.”

“You. Are not. Hearing me. I didn’t ask you to do this. I didn’t ask for my leg back. I want my life back, the way it was.” 

“Look, even if I could… it would take some time. Recharge my magic batteries or whatever. Find my focus for the spell. It’s not like I can just snap my fingers. Can’t you just stay here? I mean, shit, you’re at Harvard, and healed, for one.” 

“Being able-bodied is not a replacement for a happy life that I already had.” He shook his head. “Why can’t people understand that not every disabled person is inherently miserable?”

It seems to sink in, because the purple-haired girl is starting to appear guilty. “I mean, you looked pretty miserable carrying those bags down the street. I just thought--”

“I know. You looked at me and thought, what a poor crippled soul, he must have a terrible life just because he’s struggling with grocery bags for a few minutes. Right?” Theo didn’t think of himself as intimidating, but his anger made him bigger, somehow, as he loomed over the girl. Theo thought of Xavier, of their crappy little apartment and long nights spent studying for pre-vet program exams. And he wanted it back. Needed it. 

“I mean--” she started.

He cut her off. “I need you to undo this. Today.”

She was breathing quickly. She took a step back from him. “The best I can do is tonight. Six hours or so. We’ll meet back here.” She bit her lip nervously. 

“You better not be messing with me.” 

“No, I swear,” she said. “I’m really sorry. It was stupid of me to try the spell without your permission.” She paced a bit. “I’ll undo it. I just need a little time.”

***

Theo spent the rest of the day wandering around the campus, poking around a little out of curiosity to see what this Alternate-Theo’s life was like. He was sure about wanting things to go back, but he had time to fill, and when did anyone else get an opportunity to see what their life could have been like? 

He managed to find the way back to his dorm, following a peer through the locked door and stairwell. He eventually found the door number he remembered, 410, and pushed open the door he’d left unlocked in his earlier frenzy. 

The room was a single, so no roommate. Everything in here belonged to this Theo. 

He poked through some papers and textbooks. It looked like he was pre-med, and making decent grades--that was his old dream, of becoming a doctor for people, not animals. But after the accident, he’d wanted to spend as little time in hospitals and doctors’ offices as possible, and found comfort in his pets. The solution seemed obvious, once his anxiety went down and he was clear-headed enough to see it.

He scrolled through his phone. A couple casual texts to friends about homework and such. No boyfriend or even super close friends, it seemed. There were some texts and calls to his parents--one text from his mom said Meet any nice girls lately? ;). So he hadn’t even come out to his parents yet? What about his so-called “friends” here? To Theo, it looked like this life was pretty lonely. 

This whole snooping process took up several hours, and he spent the next few eating snacks he found in his room, pacing the Harvard grounds hoping the witch-girl would return sooner, and, briefly, taking a run. It wasn’t as fun as he’d imagined it would be on the rare occasions he did miss his leg.

Finally, as the day grew cooler and a little darker, the purple-haired girl approached him where he sat at the same picnic table he’d found her at earlier.

“I think I’m all set.” She sat down next to Theo with the same nonchalance she had earlier. “I just need a minute to get relaxed and settled here. Are you sure you still want to undo this?”

“Yes,” he replied, without hesitation. 

“Okay.” She closed her eyes, breathing evenly. She held a few objects in her hands he couldn’t see. 

“Am I going to rememb--?”

“Shh. Trying to focus here. And to answer your question, I don’t know. Now be quiet.”

***

Theo woke up in a tiny beige bedroom in a shoebox apartment in Pittsburgh. Beside him, the sheets were ruffled; typical for Xavier to get up early for rowing practice. Leaning against the wall by the bed were a pair of forearm crutches. 

A sticky note in Xavier’s messy scrawl was on the side table next to the bed. See you for lunch? I’ll text you. Love you. -X

Theo held onto the note and let himself fall back into the pillow with ease. He did remember the crazy alternate-life day he had, but couldn’t entirely be sure whether it was a dream or not. 

But he could relax and be happy now. He was back where he belonged.

[interrogatormentors]

Event Twelve: Underhanded Tactics

Eridan woke up in the medbay, a common occurrence these nights. His whole head throbbed, and he slid his tongue along the roof of his cotton-dry mouth. He cracked open an eye only to screw it shut again, head panging again as a jolt of fear rattled through his gut. The phantom scent of antiseptic teased at his memory, the sound of hair clippers and the saw discordant and lingering as the Empress crooned at his side. You are my confidante, she’d said. You must keep my secrets close, locked tight so no one can pull them from you. Stop crying, guppy, brain surgery ain’t so bad. 

He took a deep breath through his nose, gills flaring as he struggled to avoid hyperventilating. The past couldn’t hurt him, initial panic notwithstanding. His arm itched, a faint movement confirming the IV needle sunk into a vein. He felt around for the needle, ripping it out of his arm and clamping his hand down to stem the resulting spurt of blood.

“Sir!” Eridan ignored the alarmed squawk of a nearby mediculler, sitting up on the medical platform and peeling his eyes open. “You should be resting--”

“I didn’t give nobody permission to bring me in, Icrusa,” Eridan said, voice a rough croak. He cleared his throat, replacing his whole hand with his index finger to put pressure on the IV site instead. The mediculler swallowed hard, shrinking back as Eridan shot him an icy glare. “Told you this the last time.”

“You keep passing out, sir,” Icrusa said. His ears flushed a brilliant yellow as Eridan glowered. “You really shouldn’t be drinking so much, not with your pan in such a delicate state.” Icrusa stopped speaking as Eridan gripped onto the side of the medical platform, highblood strength twisting and warping the metal frame.

“My pan ain’t delicate,” he said. “I’m no different than I was a sweep ago. I’m not some delicate pissblooded helmsman. I can handle it. And the next time you try an’ give me some holier than thou bullshit regardin’ my drinkin’ habits, I’m setting you out the airlock. I didn’ ask for you to give me fuckin’ unsolicited health advice an’ you’d fuckin’ do well to remember that.” He reached for his glasses, shoving them on his face. His finger skipped over the false slap of skin at his temples, hiding the new port for a biowire. His stomach rolled, and he shoved it away. Don’t think about it. Don’t feel. Shut off your emotions, guppy, like a husktop. “I can’t get work done in the medbay. Sign my release form.”

Icrusa hesitated before bobbing his head, scurrying back to his office. He knew better by this point than to point out that yes, actually, it was his job to give health advice considering his status as the ship’s official mediculler after the last time Eridan woke up hungover in the medbay. Eridan watched him the whole time through narrowed eyes, foot tapping at a near frantic pace as he waited. He left the medbay even before the mediculler left his office, lifting the cape folded at the end of the platform and swinging it back around his shoulders. A sweep ago he would have felt childish, wearing a cape again, haunted by wiggler memories of immature games and lofty aspirations he could never hope to reach. But the Empress had given it to him, just for him in her color, gold woven into the hem with his sign etched into the embroidery, marking him as hers. 

He went to his block, avoiding the stares from crew members as he swept past them. He didn’t need their concern or their pity to do his job. The moment he entered he snatched a half-empty flask from his desk, draining the rest of it and sighing as his throat burned. Nothing beat a hangover like a bit of hair of the woofbeast, and a few minutes later his panic faded back into the background. Everything was okay. He was fine, everything was normal, and he could get to work.

Eridan sank into his chair, fumbling around for a bottle of soporific and refilling his flask as he eyed a desk drawer with distaste. He sucked in a breath before opening it, picking up the squirming biowire pinched between his index finger and thumb. He gritted his teeth before flicking the false flap of skin back, putting the wire to his temple. The biowire squirmed and sank into the port, and Eridan flinched as pain shot through his brain. The Empress had assured him the procedure was safe, convenient, but every time he hooked up to a computer Eridan felt like death clawed at his pan. He didn’t have psionics, he didn’t have all the electric pulses constantly thrumming through his body and shortening the neural pathways so the biowire could work efficiently. The biowire twisted his thoughts into agonized tendrils, every transfer of encrypted data giving him a migraine for hours. 

Still he hooked himself to his computer, taking another draft from his refilled flask as he opened up his alerts and tasks for the day. A download automatically started-- a security update for the ship itself, procedures for lockdown in case of a hijacking. The rebellion kept forcing the Empire’s hand, this latest security update a response to the more frequent hijackings by the movement that drew closer and closer to the heart of the fleet. Eridan bowed his head as the details wove their way into the meat of his pan, sinking into the hardware and locking themselves away. His hands shook, and he had to take a few minutes before focusing back on his tasks. His duties as Head Admin hadn’t ceased. Supplies needed ordering, personnel needed allocating, and patrol routes needed vetting. The duties never stopped, they never stopped piling up, and the notifications at the bottom right of his husktop screen with the sheer number of them seared their image into Eridan’s eyeballs.

Eridan leaned back in his seat, scrubbing at his eyes and then staring at the ceiling. Turn off the emotions. He could do that, he needed to do that, in order to keep going. He couldn’t waylay the demands of the Empress, and he had a responsibility to his ship to keep it running. Wasting time freaking out about the lack of time and lack of autonomy held him back. Besides, he never made good decisions for himself in the first place.

The intercom crackled on his desk, and Eridan snarled as he depressed the call button with his finger. “The fuck you need, Shakes?”

“Uh. Sorry to bother you, but we got a docking request,” Shakes said. “You good?”

“Not relevant. The BC Condescension is a galaxy over until the end of the perigee, so tell whoever we ain’t dockin’ for shit.”

“No, no, boss, this ain’t just any old request. It’s, uh, an interrogatormentor cruiser?”

Eridan lifted his head where he’d been resting it on his hand, blood crystallizing into icy shards of fear. “What? Why?”

“Beats me,” Shakes said. “They’ve got all the required security codes all lined up neat for me. I couldn’t get a bead on the helmsman either-- It’s like they don’t even have one. Do I let them dock?”

“It’s th’ bloody interrogatormentors. Do we have a choice?” Eridan plucked the biowire from his skull, shoving it back in his desk and smoothing his hair flat once again. “Let them on. I’ll let the Captain know.”

He met the interrogatormentors in the docking bay as they disembarked their tiny cruiser. The two purples stood out, towering high above the third, weedy troll between them. Eridan had to shake himself as he took in the yellowblood, the image of the decrepit Helmsman superimposed over the far more muscled and smooth-faced interrogatormentor in front of them. The fact the interrogatormentor clearly had helming experience didn’t help, his skin riddled with resealable ports that shone in the overhead lights. That explained the helmsman, then. Of course Shakes wouldn’t be able to get a bead on a helmsman with interrogatormentor training. Eridan cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and approached.

“Are you the captain?” The yellowblood cocked his head an inch, looking Eridan up and down. Something in his tone indicated he already knew the answer to his question, and his lisp niggled at memory in the back of Eridan’s pan.

“No. I’m Head Admin Ampora. State your business and I will fetch the captain for--”

The female purple to the side of the first interrogatormentor held up a hand, cutting him off. She wore no face paint unlike her companion. The male purple in question stared at Eridan openly, twitching as he heard Eridan’s name. It took Eridan a moment to register Gamzee aged as he was, gone through his final adult molt and towering above him. He met Gamzee’s eyes for only a moment before tearing his gaze away. He couldn’t risk Gamzee opening his mouth. He only wondered how Gamzee had landed a position alongside an interrogatormentor squad considering how Eridan faintly recalled outing his rebel connections upon first meeting the Empress.

The yellowblooded interrogatormentor cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. His fangs flashed as he spoke. “You’ve been compromised, Admin Ampora.”

The voice finally knocked something loose in Eridan’s pan, unlocking memories of voice calls at midday and filled with shouting wigglers spouting heresy. “TwinArmageddons?”

“CaligulasAquarium,” the yellow interrogatormentor replied, without missing a beat. 

Eridan stared at him, and stayed silent. They stayed at an impasse for a few moments, neither of them willing to out the other's rebel ties without revealing their own as Gamzee kept looking between them as the treasonous icing on the cake. It was as if Eridan had handed the interrogatormentor a grenade, and the yellowblood had pulled the pin while the grenade sat in their joined hands.

The female purple looked to the yellow, who cleared his throat. “I read his file. He read mine.” Eridan didn’t like how easily he lied, terror still prickling at the base of his skull. He scratched the back of his head, trying to ignore the wicked scar there. 

“So. Right. You here to torture me?” Eridan asked. “Interrogatormentor…?”

“Captor,” the yellowblood said. He indicated the female purple, and then Gamzee. “Interrogatormentor Davrot, Security Officer Makara. We’re responding to an alert your ship is harboring rebels and they are attempting to remove you from your position as the Empress’ consort.”

Eridan’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “No. You got the wrong ship. I ain’t recruitin’ rebels. Especially none tryin’ to undermine me.”

Captor snorted, lowering his chin in a clear sign of arrogant condescension. He waved a hand and the two purples separated from his side where they’d clung like remoras to a shark’s parasite-ridden gills. “Strange. The report said you’re the one that caught the alert and brought it to the Empire’s attention.”

Eridan stared, trying to knit together the holes in his memory and recall ever summoning interrogatormentors. He did a lot of his work drunk now, true enough, but he had a handle on it and remembered the important information. If anything he only remembered the Empress, a foggy memory of her praising him for his work against the rebellion. Was this what she meant?

He turned as he heard yelling and a distant commotion, but Captor waved a hand. “Ignore this and get back to whatever you Head Admins call work while we deal with your infestation,” he said. “You’ll be updated when we get what we need.” 

He walked away, silent as before as he ghosted after the two purples. Eridan watched him go before shaking himself back into reality, looking around to see a few crewmates halted in their duties and watching him. “You’re not paid to dick around,” he said, baring his teeth. “Unless any of the rest of you want to be investigated for rebel leanings. Might as well make use of the interrogatormentors while they’re here.” The idle crewmembers jumped back into their work, avoiding Eridan’s eye as he left the room.

Hours passed, and Eridan wanted to throttle something. Everyone wanted to know what the interrogatormentors wanted or needed, and he had nothing to give them. He didn’t even know the name of the troll being investigated, and he didn’t care. As long as the interrogatormentors weren’t knocking at his door and asking what he knew of Feferi and her rebellion, he didn’t care.

Someone knocked on his door. Eridan jumped, almost knocking over his flask onto his keyboard and only just managing to catch it before it fell. He swore and stood, opening the door to see the trio of trolls from earlier, Interrogatormentor Davrot dragging a fourth, barely conscious troll behind her by the hair. Olive blood oozed from multiple lacerations across the troll’s face and arms.

“Bricks?” Eridan tried to not sound so betrayed, but his voice dripped with it.

Bricks stirred, groaning before opening an eye. His other eye was swollen shut. “I’m not a rebel,” Bricks said. He yelped as Davrot yanked his hair up, clinging to her wrist for dear life in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pain.  “I’m not. Don’t listen to them-- I just tried to get you help!”

“Help with what?” Eridan’s fingers curled in the hem of his cape, and he let go only when he caught Captor staring at the gesture like a predator eyeing its prey.

Bricks stayed silent, hissing as Davrot forced him onto his knees. She leaned in, grabbing him by the horn and twisting. “No. No no no-- Not again--” Bricks screamed as Eridan caught the sound of horn splintering, grinding against itself. “The Empress! Stop-- She’s killing you, Ampora, can’t you see it? Anyone with eyes can fucking see it, it’s only the rebellion that might care! I don’t give a shit about anything else they do, I just wanted them to get you out of this place before it gets any worse..”

Eridan bristled, hands curling into his fists. Captor moved forward before he could say anything, footsteps inaudible on the metal tile. He put his hand on Bricks’ shoulder. “He sold you out,” he said. “You’re preaching to the choir now.” Bricks blinked, looking from Captor to Eridan who stood immobile. Captor snorted, snapping his fingers. Davrot grabbed Bricks’ hand, linking her fingers with his and holding it high above his head as Captor leaned in and grabbed Bricks by the chin. “It’s kind of sweet, isn’t it? You selling each other out to try and save your own sorry hides. You thought you could get away with this? With trying to snatch the Empress’ consort out from under her?” Captor dropped Bricks’ face and turned his bicolored eyes on Eridan. “You employ soft crewmembers, Admin Ampora. We didn’t even have to press hard to crack him open.”

Captor moved his left hand, swiping it overtop his right. Psionics shimmered in its wake, coalescing into a solid blade of hard light. Eridan could feel the thrum of power from here, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in the wake of this blatant flexing of psionic ability. Bricks jerked his hand in Davrot’s grip, but she stood immobile as Gamzee grabbed his uninjured horn and kept him locked in place. “Ampora. Eridan. Come on. Who the fuck do you think keeps scraping your sorry ass off the floor every time you pass out? Tell me they’re lying-- You wouldn’t throw me under like this. I know you.”

“You don’t know me,” Eridan said. He couldn’t remember telling any interrogatormentors about an outgoing message to the rebels, or even mentioning it offhand to the Empress. He didn’t know if he wanted to. The Empress gave him everything, she gave him status and gifts and he served as her comfort and her informant. Bricks wanted to take that all away-- He wanted to ruin everything Eridan had worked so hard for and send him back to step one in the dirt with rebels. Rebels that Eridan had burned so many bridges with it might as well be a scrapyard, that had said to his face and beyond that he would never be welcome until he shaped up. He’d shaped up, he’d shipped out into the stars, and crafted himself into something better that neither Feferi nor any of her other cronies could hope to touch. “I… Yeah. I did.”

Bricks’ face fell, only for him to scream as Captor swiped out with the psionic blade and separated the engineer’s hand from his wrist with crunching bone and the smell of seared flesh. The hand skidded across the floor, smearing a trail of olive blood along the floor and landing at Eridan’s feet. Eridan stared down at it as Davrot and Gamzee let Bricks crumple to the ground, clutching his arm and screaming.

He only looked up as Captor advanced on him, schooling his face back into the blank slate the Empress had taught him. A thin line of yellow blood snaked down the interrogatormentor’s face from his nose due to no doubt immeasurable strain required by him wielding that blade. “Keep this close as a reminder to your crew. I trust you’ll do the right thing,” Captor said. He bent down and picked up the hand, and dropped it into Eridan’s. Eridan’s muscles tensed to throw it away, stomach rolling, but he only stared down at it, conditioned by this point to be totally numb as every instinct screamed at him to do something. Instead, he could be good. He could do nothing. The Empress would be proud of him, or at least he hoped as much. 

He snapped back to attention as Captor inclined his head and spoke again. “Long live the Empire.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eridan said, straightening his back as he automatically saluted, expression schooled into a blank mask, the drunken flush from earlier banished from his face. “Long live the Empire.”

Captor swiped at the trickle of blood on his face with his thumb and nodded, turning on his heel. The two purples flanked him again, bringing up the rear as they disappeared down the hall.

Eridan dropped the hand the moment the interrogatormentors went out of sight, skin crawling, but he couldn’t bring himself to so much as whimper. He couldn’t trust his crew. He couldn’t trust his memory. He could only trust the Empress, that she would recognize the dangers pointing daggers at his back and save him, as she no doubt had in sending interrogatormentors to his ship.

He shut the door to his blocks, leaving Bricks sobbing on the floor. He didn’t feel anything, anything at all. Even as he sent the Captain a message about the incident and Bricks writhed on the floor in pain outside his blocks he felt nothing, the tears that finally spilled from his eyes more a physical response to the lingering smell of charred flesh in his nose more than anything. He’d have to do something about the hand eventually, and he wouldn’t put it past a sadistic interrogatormentor to actually make sure he kept the hand on display somewhere. That definitely would not win him any brownie points with the crew, especially with how alienated he felt from them by this point. He doubted even Shakes would give him the time of day after this, with what he let happen to Bricks. Fuck, he needed another drink.

They’d told him in Fleet Academy that space was vast, that space was empty and cruel and cold. But no one had told him, they didn’t warn him, that space was so fucking lonely. 

[kentparsonbirthdaybash]

Cards Close to the Chest

Prompt: Supernatural

Characters: Kent, Aces Ensemble

--

All of the guys chirped Parse for buying a pack of tarot cards. He might have been their star-talent rookie, but that didn’t mean he was above some healthy razzing. Especially since he bought those cards, at all fucking places, a Barnes & Noble. The guy lived in Vegas but he bought his occult knicknacks at a store that was designed for bougie soccer moms. Seriously, who did that?

“Since when does Barnes & Noble even have tarot decks?” Carl wanted to know, raising his voice to be heard over all the hooting and hollering.

Parse just shrugged, looking cool and collected as ever. “I think it was part of some special promo. They were in the section with all the books for twelve-year-olds about vampires.”

“Oh, God, I think I saw that,” Max recalled, his face scrunched up in memory. “Edmonton, right? God, what a hellhole. Couldn’t even find a decent coffee place, so we had to go to ’Noble’s in-store cafe. They fucked up my latte, too.”

Parse swept his gaze over the assembled team. “Anybody want me to do a card reading for them?” he offered, brandishing the deck at them. “I think I’ve about got the hang of it.”

His generosity was met with a chorus with a chorus of scoffs and eyerolls until Burnsy, one of the vets, volunteered.

“Always wanted to have my fortune told by somebody,” he said easily, shooing Carl out of his own stall and sitting down beside Parse. “Go ahead, Parser. Solve the mysteries of the universe. Or at least tell me how I’m going to do in our next game.”

Parse had Burnsy select three cards from the deck (“Six is the usual for reading an entire future, so we have to scale that down to focus on just the game.”) and then did his best to decipher them. The rest of the locker room either feigned disinterest or listened with skeptical expressions, curious in spite of themselves. 

“So, it looks like you got the Page of Cups, which means a happy surprise is coming your way. Then there’s the Three of Swords, which means there’s gonna be some suffering. And then we have the Nine of Wands, which means … resilience and determination. Huh.” Parse squinted at the foldout page of instructions. “So, I guess you’re going to suffer, get a nice surprise, and then recover? Can’t be sure of that order, though.”

“What’s there not to be sure about?” Carl asked scornfully. “He’s going to get hurt and then get better. That’s generally how that works.”

 “Well, at least we know I’m not dying,” Burnsy said cheerfully. “Thanks for reading my fortune, bro. I guess we’ll see if it comes true or not.”

While Parse still got grief from some of the guys about giving up hockey and becoming Vegas’s next great stage magician with those cards of his, everyone forgot about the prediction for Burnsy. That was, until their next game, when an attempted slapshot at the Flyers’ goal in the last four seconds of play rebounded off of Burnsy’s thigh, entering the net and giving the Aces their victory.

“Wait a minute, that’s exactly what you said would happen,” Jello recalled when they were out for drinks later that night. “Parse, you said that Burnsy would suffer, but there would be a happy surprise, and then he’d get over it. Well, the dude took a slapshot to the leg, got us a goal, and now he’s left with a hefty bruise where the puck hit him. But he’s still gonna be okay.”

“Hey, that’s right,” Parse said, but he didn’t seem especially amazed. “Guess that did happen, huh?” There was a teasing look in his eyes, which were blue that day.

“Just a coincidence,” Carl insisted. “If he broke out those cards again and tried to make sense of them, none of it would come true.”

“Wanna bet?” Jello challenged, raising his chin stubbornly.

So, with fifty dollars riding on the outcome, the next day Parse did a full card reading for a neutral party: Max.

“Something you’ve wanted to happen for a while is gonna happen soon,” he informed Max as he pored over the cards. “But there’s strings attached, and it’s going to be difficult at times but rewarding at the end of the day. And also—” he tapped the Empress card, “—this one means motherhood, so possibly a kid will be involved?”

“God, I hope not,” Max said fervently. “Neither Lauren or I want kids.”

But just a few days later, when they were on the road, Max got a call from his wife, telling him that their elderly neighbor had fallen and broken her hip. The lady would be in rehab for the next six weeks and wouldn’t be able to take care of her dog even afterward. What would he think about them adopting a four-year-old Golden Retriever?

“I mean, we’ve always wanted a dog,” Max explained to the other guys. “We’ve talked about getting one but never really got around to it, so we’re totally going to do this. I really like that dog, too, she’s a real sweetheart.” 

Jello was emphatic that the circumstances proved him right. “Lauren getting a dog is basically her becoming a mom!” he insisted. “She’s still responsible for another living creature. And some people refer to their pets as their kids!”

“One, no it’s not,” Carl said flatly. “Two, those people are freaks. Three, this proves nothing.”

But a number of the rest of the team was convinced that it did, and suddenly Parser was regularly performing card readings for several of his teammates. Skeezy wanted to know if he should move into a development with an HOA (Parse predicted an inevitable sacrifice of freedom for contentment), Red was questioning how meeting his girlfriend’s parents would go (Disastrously, but through no fault of Red’s, and to his ultimate benefit), and Chazzer checked to see if his holiday plans would go smoothly (They wouldn’t and would just leave him disappointed).

One by one, each of Parse’s predictions came through. Skeezy found out that he couldn’t build the dream deck he’d always wanted if he moved into the HOA neighborhood, so he decided to look for a house elsewhere. Red went to meet his girlfriend’s parents, but her father announced during dinner out that he was divorcing her mother, rendering the rest of the visit extremely uncomfortable. His girlfriend, however was enormously impressed by him sticking it out with her despite the awkwardness. And Chazzer ended up stranded at the airport for nearly forty hours due to a blizzard taking place during his layover, missing his visit home entirely.

“So, like, everything he says is going to happen ends up happening,” Max concluded during a team breakfast. “He has a gift.”

Carl snorted. “No, he doesn’t. He’s making guesses and some of his guesses work out. You could read your horoscope in Seventeen magazine and get better results.”

“Yeah, how fair would it be if God or Buddha or whoever made Parser made him psychic and a total beast when it comes to hockey?” Jazzy put in.

“Maybe he’s so good at hockey because he’s psychic,” Jello suggested. “Everyone has always said that the reason he can score like he does is because he can anticipate where the puck is going to be. Maybe he’s not anticipating. Maybe he already knows before it actually happens.”

They all paused to think about that, even those of the team who were more skeptical about Parser.

For his part, though, Parser didn’t seem bothered one way or the other about if his predictions turned into reality. Whenever someone came up to him and began talking excitedly about how the cards had been right, he responded with a modest shrug and a small smile, casually engaging with his teammate but not seeming very moved by what they had to say.

“Do you even believe any of this mumbo-jumbo?” Carl demanded one day as he and Parser tossed a medicine ball back and forth between themselves during sit-ups.

“Not especially,” Parse replied easily, amusement glinting in his green eyes. “Definitely not as much as I’ve convinced some of the guys on the team to.”

Carl scowled. “Then why the Harry Potter act? Is it just a joke to you? A way you can secretly chirp the other guys?” Maybe Parser was just out to make fun of everybody. Maybe he was just trying to be a dick.

Parse tossed the medicine ball at him with unnecessary force. “No,” he replied flatly. “I don’t care if they believe it or not. I just think it’s good for them to believe in something, like destiny or fate or some bullshit like that if they’re already stressed out about what’s going to happen next. Helps them deal with it, weirdly enough. Guess they figure there’s nothing they can do if it’s already in the cards.” 

“Pathetic,” Carl snorted. 

“No, it’s not.” Those weird mood ring eyes of Parser’s went stormcloud gray. “Not if it helps the guys deal with what’s bothering them. Some people struggle with not knowing what’s going to happen in the future. This is a solution for that.”

“Huh.” Eyeing Parse and seeing the frown on his face, Carl decided that continuing this line of conversation would only increase the danger of Parser lobbing the medicine ball at his head. So he wisely changed the subject. “You ever use those cards to find out something for yourself? Like, about what’s going to happen to you down the road, I mean.” 

Actually, he was really curious about the answer, about if Parse had ever believed in the cards to tell him the future, or if he’d originally bought them with the idea of tricking the guys and helping them cope. If it was the second one, then that was super weird.

Parse’s eyes went even darker, going nearly black. “No. Not ever.”

But Carl somehow got the feeling that he was lying. He noticed that when Parse spoke, his thumb was stroking that Memorial Cup ring he’d won back in Juniors, the kind that were given to only the captain and the alternate captains of the winning team. When they’d seen that Parse still wore it after being drafted into the actual League, Carl and some of the other Aces had assumed it meant he was an arrogant prick. 

Now, though, Carl wasn’t quite sure what it meant. He also wasn’t sure why Parse lied about those cards—it wasn’t like the chirping had seemed to bother him before.

Still, the next time he saw Parser surrounded by teammates, each of them with a specific question they wanted him to answer by reading the cards, Carl kept his mouth shut. If their hotshot rookie wanted to do something to help out the team in his own freak way, Carl wasn’t going to stop him.

[radiant-flutterbun]

Pixel and the Shapeshifter Part 2

Previously

The next portal took Pixel to a bright land full of pine trees and wind that brought the taste of salt water with it. Just a short walk away was a huge stone tower.

Pixel attempted to take a step forward but immediately fell. Something didn’t feel right. They looked down at themself and screamed. Their body had transformed into a bird-like dragon.

Inkdrop snorted and transformed into a bat-like dragon “Oh! You’re a skydancer! Those dragons are pretty neat.”

“Uh, you didn’t say anything about my body transforming when I got here.”

“Oh didn’t I?” Inkdrop tilted her head “Sorry it must've slipped my mind! Anyway you’re a dragon now congrats! It may take some getting used to, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out! Everyone else did!”

“Great. Cool,” Pixel struggled to their feet “Would be really cool if I didn’t have to relearn how to walk. And how the fuck am I supposed to hold anything?” Pixel nudged their phone that had fallen to the ground with their nose.

“Oh you can walk around on your hindlegs and grab it with your front. It’s easy for a skydancer to do that!” She shapeshifted into a skydancer to demonstrate and picked up the phone.

Pixel stood on three legs and took it from her “Thanks.” The phone disappeared “Ok cool. Good to know that I can still summon my weapon at will here, and also make it disappear when I don’t need it.”

Inkdrop allowed Pixel to adjust to their new dragon form before leading them to the clan’s entrance. The doors were much bigger than Pixel had thought once they were up close.

A panel on the door flipped open and Pixel was greeted with a huge grey eye peering through.

“Inkdrop. You brought a guest?” A booming voice asked.

“Yes Obsidian, and don’t worry I vetted them. They’re not dangerous!”

“Very well. You may enter.” The doors opened and behind them was a huge black dragon with blue gemstones coating his scales.

As Pixel stepped inside they were at awe with how big the place was. Dragons or all shapes and sizes were walking about, they barely paid Pixel any attention.

“So, where’s Sagacious?” Pixel asked Inkdrop.

“Oh her? She hasn’t moved from the history section of the library since she got here,” The shapeshifter snorted “Why do you want to see her, anyway?”

“I have something I need to settle with her.”

“Ok but please don’t mess anything up. I promised Nike not to bring anyone in who will mess things up!”

“Me? Mess things up? Never! Now where's Saga?”

***

Sagacious was enthralled by the history and creatures of the dragon planet. On her world she already knew everything. But here she knew nothing, and that simply would not do.

So she found a nice spot in the clan’s library (which was the majority of the tower), and curled up with a pile of history books. For months she read book after book and only took brief breaks. The clan’s main librarians Lakra and Masika adored her. It had been awhile since the library had seen some use by the newcomers.

Now for the first time since her arrival, Sagacious’s reading was interrupted. 

A metallic skydancer with dreadlocks approached her, their teeth showing as they snarled.

“HEY BITCH!”

Sagacious snapped her book shut “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me!” The skydancer pulled out a smartphone. Wait no a knife. An electric knife and pointed it at Saga “I’m Pixel Pronoia and you killed my friends! Now I’m here to return the favor!”

Sagacious sighed “Oh it’s you,” She stared at their knife, unamused “Did you really think that’d be threatening?” She was an imperial. They were merely a little skydancer.

“Hey I can cause permanent damage to you here! One stab and you’re scarred for life!”

Sagacious placed a claw on Pixel’s arm and forced them to lowered the knife to the ground.

“And I can squish you like a bug.”

The commotion attracted the attention of two other imperials, Lakra and Masika.

“Saga, is something the matter?” Masika asked.

“Is that skydancer bothering you?” Lakra added.

“Yes, they interrupted my reading to threaten me.”

Lakra gasped “How dare they!”

“I’m getting Nike,” Masika said “This is unacceptable.”

Pixel growled and thrashed, but Saga had their arm pinned good.

“Fuck you! Fuck you so much! I fucking hate you! You’re a fucking murderer!”

“No matter how many times you say ‘fuck’, the situation will not change,” Saga said with a smirk “You really just should have stayed home.”

A bright blue and green Plague mirror arrived “Sagacious, what is going on?” She asked.

“Nike, this skydancer just threatened me with a knife.”

The mirror, Nike approached Pixel and sniffed them “You’re the one Inkdrop just let in. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“She’s a murderer!” Pixel screamed “She killed my friends and then locked me up in my own home!”

Nike’s antenna flicked toward Sagacious “Is this true?”

“Of course not.” Sagacious answered.

“YOU LYING BITCH!” Pixel’s voice cracked.

Lakra scoffed “Sagacious is one of the sweetest, kindest, dragons I’ve ever met. All she’s done is read since she got here. I cannot believe some nobody dragon would enter our clan just to threaten her and accuse her of such horrible things!”

“Hmm,” Nike circled Pixel “I’d really rather this not become another ‘Naperone Situation’. Obsidian! Could you come over here?”

At her command the guardian that allowed Pixel to enter arrived.

“Move this skydancer to the prison. They threatened a clan member.”

“Yes. Of course Nike,” Obsidian plucked Pixel up by their chest and scruffed them like a cat. Sagacious let go of their arm, and they dropped the knife. A cracked smartphone now lay beside Sagacious’s feet.

Pixel struggled and screamed as Obsidian carried them up to the very top of the tower, where he then threw them into a dark, damp cell.

“Wait! But I wasn’t lying! She really is a murderer! And give me back my fucking phone!”

Obsidian didn’t say a word as he left Pixel in the dark.

“Sucks when no one believes you, doesn’t it?” A voice echoed in the dark.

Across from Pixel’s cell was a black and white skydancer with bright yellow eyes.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“I am the true God of Death, Match Solstice. And I know who you are, Pixel Pronoia.” 

“Oh gross, a Solstice.”

Match snarled, showing his bloodstained fangs.

“So what the fuck are you in here for, vampire boy?”

Matched frowned “Eh. It actually sounds pretty bad now that I think about it.”

Pixel lifted an eyebrow “Oh well now you gotta tell me. I’m invested.”

“... I killed my brother.”

“Holy fuck. The winged one? Spirits you’re a bigger asshole than I thought.”

“Hey. hey before you paint me as the bad guy you got to understand that he was a weak god that was never meant to exist. He was a failure to the Solstice name and-”

“Fucking hell. I hope whatever brain rot you’re suffering from isn’t contagious.”

“You’re an annoying little bastard aren't you?”

“Yeah well at least i’m not ugly.”

“Wow i’m so hurt by your creative insult.”

“You’re right I can do better than that,” Pixel grinned “I wonder what your parents would think if they saw you right now. Would they be disappointed? Angry? It must be pretty embarrassing to be the son of two of the most powerful gods and to end up in another world, in prison, sick and alone. I bet they won’t ever want to call you a Solstice if they knew how weak you were right now. If they knew you were mortal right now.”

Match growled, but mid growl he began to cough. As he coughed blood splattered all over the ground. Crimson red instead of the indigo blood that normally flowed through the Selcouth gods’ veins. 

“Oh did I hit a nerve?” Pixel’s grin was wicked and their pupils narrowed “You’re exactly what you think your brother was. Is that why you killed him? Did he remind you too much of yourself?”

“Shut,” Match’s voice was only a whisper but it cut accross the silent air of the prison like a knife “Your fucking mouth.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe that was a bit much. Hey I know! Why don’t we be friends instead? I think you’re a piece of shit but hey a shitty friend is better than no friends!”

“I’m not going to be your fucking friend you freak.”

“Well too late cause i’ve already decided you’re my friend! In fact I’ll promote you to my BEST friend because I ain’t got no one else! Because my last batch of friends were fucking MURDERED. But hey! It’s fine! I can move on!”

“Sounds like you’ve got some problems, and I don’t want anything to do with them.”

“Yeah well, you’ve got problems too! You killed your fucking brother! You’re an entitled piece of shit! This’ll be a great friendship! Just two pieces of shit trapped in dark lonely cells cause no one else in the entire world gives a shit about either of them!”

“You can stop talking anytime now.”

“Do you think if either of us died here anyone would notice? Are we just going to be trapped here forever until one of us starts rotting away?”

“Dragons come up here multiple times a day. I think they’ll notice if one of us died.”

“Yeah but like would they care? I wonder what they’d do to our worthless corpses? Neither of us would get a funeral that’s for sure!” Pixel clawed and kicked at the walls of their cell, tears falling from their eyes “This sucks! This fucking sucks! I hate this! Trapped in one shitty place to the next! I fucking… hate this…” 

Pixel slumped to the floor, silent for once.

“Done with your little temper tantrum?” Match growled. 

“For now,” Pixel sighed and took a deep breath. They just needed some rest and then they’d figure a way out. So they shut their eyes and drifted off.

[vampirewithbedsidemanners]

Out of the Vault: Story Time

STORY TIME This is not a work of fiction. TRIGGER WARNING: ACTIVE SHOOTER/THREAT. If you are sensitive to the topic, dont read. This is something I wrote for myself following a pretty intense situation at work. This was a few years ago but Im leaving out names and places on purpose, still. You hear a lot about active shooters in the media but they rarely cover active shooter threats, which can take a toll as well. I saw a news report once about schools in bad neighborhoods that have regular lock downs because of shootings in the surrounding neighborhoods are giving their students PTSD just trying to protect them.  I can see why. I don’t think I have PTSD, but I wont really know until I get another call like this.

I don’t think about it often. Sometimes, in the days after when the rest of the world started forgetting, I would remember it.

But most days, especially now, it was a distant nightmare. I was still a kid at the time, young and naive. I still lived in that bubble of ‘it will never happen to me’. Every close call solidified that bubble. The almost stabbing, the drug busts, the scrappy fist fights that always ended with someone getting snowed, fed the delusion. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, I knew that we were short staffed. That I shouldn’t be clearing buildings and parking lots and bathrooms with drug addicts overdosed on the floor, by myself. Most days, I didn’t even notice.

It makes you feel big, even when you’re not. 5′1″, I disappeared behind the desk at the stationary post without even trying. The other guards couldn’t get in the patrol car behind me without moving the seat back. But there was an adrenaline rush to it that made me feel like I could do this, no matter my size. I liked the work, it made me a piece of a larger puzzle.

“You better lock down the hospital, I’m coming to kill you all.”

12 words.

5 minutes before help arrived.

1 other guard.

6 buildings. 23 floors between all of them. 11 elevators. 2 pedways. A tunnel. 17 entrances.

9 parking lots.

43 employees. Roughly 100 patients.

5:30 a.m., all the doors have automatically unlocked.

We had no plan. We had no face to put to the voice. The operator who took the call was doubled over in a corner, crying. The House Supervisor was quiet. My coworker, always confident on the border of cocky, was at a loss for words.

“Do we take this threat serious.” The question hung in the air.

“We have to.” House said. And that was it. The horrible, terrible, unfair truth about threats. Bomb threats. Active Shooter threats. It didn’t matter.

Its real until it’s not.

I used to write about how adrenaline rushes make you numb to the pain. I slammed my hand in the first door, trying to get it to lock. I was at the end of a long hallway, outside the Emergency Room. It was the first external door I passed on the way into the rest of the hospital. I felt the pain in my hand, even though the adrenaline was pumping. My palms were sweaty, and I was out of breath. I had to jump up over and over, swiping at the off button before I could lock the door.

As I ran down the hall towards the surgery area, all I could think was ‘I should have started at the main lobby.’ These long hallways with nowhere to hide would have made me an easy target. One short, out of breath, underpaid and overworked guard with a thousand keys and blood dripping down her hand because she was clumsy and couldn't lock a door, target.

The surgery entrance door stands open when you turn off the box. I didn’t know that at the time. I could feel the seconds ticking by as I struggled with it. In hindsight, I should have just locked the inner door and been done with it. They were glass anyways, and definitely not bullet proof. Anyone who wanted to get in wouldn't have been deterred by glass.

By the time I hit the pedway, I felt sick. It had been 2 minutes since I had started locking down the hospital, something that we had no plan or procedure for. Somewhere between day surgery and the pedway, I started to get tunnel vision. I don’t remember my thought process for calling my husband, and I vaguely recall what I actually said on the voicemail. My words were kind of hard to make out over the sound of me running down a flight of stairs.

‘I love you. I’ll be home late. Don’t freak out, but we have a Code Black at East. I love you.’ It was all I could make out. The first time I listened to it, a few weeks after that day, all I could remember thinking was ‘this could have been the last thing he ever heard from me.’

When I reached the main lobby, I started moving people away from windows and down into hallways. Registration helped some, mostly with moving benches. No one really knew what to do. Someone brought me a printout. Cops had arrived, there was just 2 patrol cars parked outside the Emergency Department. More were coming. They traced the number and got an ID. I was expecting a mugshot, not a military ID. The grainy black and white photo did very little to help with identification. I was looking for a black man, in his early 20’s, of unknown height or weight, neither of which are listed. I stood by the door, vetting everyone that came in. More cops showed up, some in undercover vehicles, some off duty in their own cars. It became harder and harder to tell what was suspicious from what wasn’t. I think by that point, the paranoia had set in. Even if the cops had more info than I did, they would have had just as hard a time picking a non-descript black man out in a crowd.

A man in sweats approached the front door. He had walked past the off-duty cop parked in front. The cop started opening his door to get out, or at least that is what my brain saw. It could have been anything, or nothing. I didn’t know. It was the hoodie that caught me off guard. Baggy clothes conceal everything. His hood was up, hands in his pockets. I couldn’t see his face.

It played out like one of those dreams where you’re cornered and scrambling and trying to get the words out, but you can’t. I was shaking so hard I could barely hold the glass sliding doors as I tried to force them back together. He walked at a normal pace, at ease. There was nothing aside from the clothes and skin color to say that this was the caller, but I was terrified that it was, regardless of the statistics. Looking back, I must have looked like a mess. Here I was, shaky and out of breath, struggling to push together glass doors that didn’t actually lock to stop a potential shooter who would just break them down anyways instead of running away. My voice was gone, as was all the air in my lungs. I’ve seen videos, of cops shooting suspects that were already down because of adrenaline. It gets to be too much, and they start to twitch and accidentally pull the trigger. I imagine, this is what that would feel like. We’re all human, after all.

When he pulled out his hospital badge, I thought I might actually start crying from relief.

It was over in under 10 minutes, but I was still shaky 2 and a half hours later  when they found him and I was finally sent home.

People at work said that it wasn’t real, because nothing happened. People, mostly the other guards, who were called in and showed up after the site was swarming with law enforcement. We had half the police force, it seemed like, between the off duty and the incoming shift. State troopers were combing the surrounding interstates. Military police were waiting at the caller’s residency. But there was just the two of us for those first 5 minutes. Before police were there, before we had any answers. We had to pick and choose what entrances to lock because there was no way to lock them all. We ignored entire buildings because there was too much ground to cover. If he had been sitting in his car in the parking lot when he called, it wouldn’t have mattered if the cops were called or the military police involved.

I would have been a target for the uniform I wore. Patients might have been fine. Nurses, too. Doctors maybe. The floors would have gone untouched. But the two of us would have been shot at, even if he didn’t hit either one.

Troopers found the caller overdosed in his car 3 miles from the hospital. He had a gun, but only a handful of bullets. Even if he had shown up, he was too messed up to do anything and would have quickly been taken down. They gave him Narcan, and the Military police took him away. I found out later when I was looking over the list of charges that he had also called the fire department and told them the hospital was on fire and that they needed to evacuate us. Someone said he wanted pain pills and the doctor said no because he was a junkie, but I’m not really sure why he did it. It doesn’t really matter. He was sentenced to 15 years for the civil side of things and court marshaled for conduct by the military. He will spend the better part of the next two decades in a military prison serving two consecutive sentences. 15 years and then another 5 for the military.

The hospital had forgotten by shift change. I had been held over 15 and a half hours because of the lockdown. I would have gotten off at 6 a.m. that morning. When I came in the next night, no one really talked about it. I guess that means I did my job. My debriefing was 10 minutes, and didn’t cover anything, really. The hospital locked down the truth and smoothed things over with the local paper. They didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

We were 3 miles and 5 bullets away from a Code Silver, active shooter.

But nothing happened so it wasn’t real, right?

Tags: @fanfiction-trashpile

[your-iron-lung]

The Unsolved Chapter

aka, the crossover absolutely no one asked for; also available to read on AO3 

Story Synopsis:  While investigating what remains of the infamous Léry’s Memorial Institute for their popular channel, two Youtube celebrity ghost hunters go missing overnight, vanishing in a freak occurrence that has decided to lay claim to their souls.

While the world they were abruptly taken from grieves their absences and tries to figure out what befell the beloved comical duo, Ryan and Shane struggle to make sense of the new, terrible and violent reality they've woken up in. Drawn to a campfire that never seems to burn out, they meet others who have been condemned to the same, eternal fate and are forcibly taught how to survive in an attempt to keep their collective hope and souls alive.

Part 1 of 5

Chapter Word Count: 6031

Pairings: None; just a genfic

Genre: Survival Horror/Supernatural/Angst-y

Next Chapter: Part Two

Notes: uhh yep, here it is, a buzzfeed unsolved/dead by daylight crossover fic bc once i started to think about it, i couldnt stop. there will be temporary character death, lil bits of gore, and a fair amount of blood and violence in the story, just not in this installment. careful if you click the embedded link, as it might be loud

---------

‘Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters.’ Stephen King, The Shining

1

Léry’s Memorial Institute was probably the filthiest building Shane had ever stepped foot in, which, when you took into account just how many foul, decrepit locations he’d been to in the past, was really saying something. The building itself was beautiful in its own haunting way, as most older buildings often were, but Léry’s took the definition of ruined to a new extreme he’d yet to see before now. It was an architectural thing of beauty to be sure, but the grit and grime that covered the entirety of the stonework did manage to dampen his enthusiasm for exploring the dilapidated structure.

And he had been excited for it, originally; a chance to fly back to Illinois to shoot the season finale of Unsolved on his home turf had been generally appealing, even if he hadn’t heard of Michaelstown or Léry’s before. But then they’d all gotten their first look at the Institute, looming horribly tall over the long horizon of pines as they drove up to it from the bumpy dirt road, and he felt all his excitement leave his body in an instant, evaporating like a cold drop of water on hot asphalt.

The silhouette had been menacing and boxy, regal in an old fashioned way that modern constructions had abandoned in favor of more modern designs. It was, perhaps, one of the most imposing feats of architecture he’d ever laid eyes on; it certainly ranked up there with Waverly in his mind, and perhaps that was why he felt so inexplicably nervous as he’d looked at it. Rather than dwell on it, he compartmentalized his anxiety away in his brain and turned to make a comment about how spooky the hospital was to Ryan, but whatever effects looking at the building had had on him appeared to have hit his co-host three times as hard; Ryan’s brain already looked like it was melting, an expression of mute terror written plainly across his face.

Shane couldn’t fault him for that, considering his own momentary scare, and was actually grateful for his silence. If Ryan had pressed him for a comment on whether or not he thought Léry’s was haunted in that moment, then Shane might’ve reluctantly admitted that, in the event that ghosts were real, he wouldn’t be surprised to find a few here, but Ryan had been too horror-stricken to ask. In all actuality, no one on the team had been up for much conversation after that first initial glimpse, an uneasy vibe settling into all of them as they parked. They had all taken a moment to appreciate how terribly ominous it looked against the backdrop of a sunset red sky before TJ ushered them into their usual business routine, unpacking their equipment and getting their bodycams set up.

“Man, I feel like Jack Torrance walking into the Overlook here. This building feels downright predatory, man,” Ryan said, voice already shaking with nervousness.

Evening was falling fast upon them as they shuffled around in the entrance hall, carefully avoiding the large panes of broken glass and other debris that littered the floor. The layer of dust on the ground was so thick, distinct footprints could be seen as clear as though they’d been walking through snow, their tracks leading around in circles as they got their first look at the interior.

Shane hummed a noncommittal response as he shined his camera light around, disgusted by the amount of dust on the floor and in the air; if he were an asthmatic, he’d probably have run through several inhalers just from walking in.

“So tell me what I’m looking at here, Ryan; what’s the history behind this magnificent pile of rubble?” Shane asked as he nudged a thick piece of wood with the toe of his boot.

They would cover most of the history of Léry’s Memorial Institute in the voice over, but that wouldn’t be done until they got back to California and Ryan had yet to tell him much about the place. Keeping Shane in the dark about the past of some the places they went to was a good way to get genuine reactions out of him, but he felt that if they didn’t start bantering soon then Ryan would lose whatever was left of his poor, impressionable mind.

“I feel really weird,” Ryan said instead of answering, glancing around the area with wide, uncertain eyes. “There’s like, some kind of an energy in the air in here; do you feel it?”

“No,” Shane replied calmly, though that wasn’t entirely true. He could feel something akin to static in the air around them, but he didn’t register that as a supernatural phenomenon. The air felt charged in a way that reminded him more of an impending thunderstorm getting ready to unburden itself than it did of something unearthly. “It is a little chilly, though; probably should’ve worn more layers.”

“Good Christ, I hate it here already.” Ryan shuddered and rubbed at one of his arms as he turned to look down the dark hallway that lead further in. “Right, so. Léry’s. I couldn’t find any information on who the original owners were, or who built it, but I did find out that the original building was built sometime in the 1800’s.”

“This isn’t the original?”

Ryan shook his head and reluctantly took the lead in guiding them down the long, narrow hallway, adjusting the straps of his bodycam rig subconsciously as he went.

“Well, yes and no,” he said, stopping every few steps to shine his light and camera into any rooms they happened to pass. “The original building was just a really big mansion the owners lived in before they donated their land to the government; all this hospital space was added onto it during the Korean War to help rehab returning vets.”

“This is one hell of a remodeling job; the Property Brothers would be proud with how many square feet they managed to pump into this thing,” Shane remarked, grinning a little when Ryan let out a slight laugh. “So, army hospital?”

“Yep, up until the CIA took possession of it in the 60’s, and that’s where all my research brought me to dead ends. I couldn’t find what they wanted it for or what they did with it after they got it, but boy, the conspiracy theories run wild with this one.” He turned to flash Shane a conspiratory grin.

“Are you gonna use the voice on me?” Shane asked with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t lay it on too thick now; save some for the voice over.”

“Some say that the CIA turned Léry’s into a black site in order to perfect ‘information gathering’ techniques they’d wanted to put into practice during the war,” Ryan began, easily slipping into the professional tone of voice he used for narrations. The familiarity with which he spoke seemed to restore some of his confidence as they continued down the hall, as he no longer seemed to shrink away from the darkness surrounding them. “They reportedly hired a large number of staff to run the medical facility, but no records of anyone working here exist- at least to the public-, though there are rumors of one particular doctor who was well known for his sadistic use of electro-convulsive shock ‘treatments’.”

“Torture, you mean,” Shane said, shining his light into a room of indeterminate purpose. Ahead of him, Ryan nodded in affirmation. “Great, a secret torture hospital. I’m sure you’ll get a lot of angry, resentful ghosts to talk to here.”

Ignoring his comment, Ryan continued his monologue, clearly having spent time rehearsing it. “Supposedly. As the rumors go, they began implementing experimental interrogation methods on American citizens first before moving on to actual spies, and oh- oh my god, that’s a fucking big rat,” Ryan sputtered, his Unsolved voice breaking as he skipped back down the hall and almost knocked into Shane, who barely managed to sidestep his panicked retreat.

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he put an arm to Ryan’s shoulder to steady him before stepping ahead of him, shining his camera light into what looked to be a large reception area. It was wide and spacious, full of dark corners with plenty of dust and run down furniture covered in graffiti. The rat Ryan had stumbled upon was underneath one of the waiting room benches, turned over on its side and very clearly dead, though it was exceptionally large.

They stared at it together contemplatively for a moment before Shane said, “I gotta tell you, Ry, that I am not at all thrilled about spending the night here. I think I might ask my mom to call your mom to tell you I can’t come to your little sleepover.”

From behind, they could hear Mark laugh before stepping into the room, aiming the lens of his camera at the rat for a dramatic close-up they could potentially use to promote the episode.

“That’s disgusting, don’t film that,” Devon said, clicking her tongue in disapproval as she placed her hand in front of the camera lens until Mark lowered it off his shoulder. “This place is foul; I can’t say I envy you boys for staying here one bit.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ryan muttered. “Hell, I might cancel the sleepover myself, no moms involved.”

“You can’t, you already walked out of one overnight this season,” TJ cut in, to which Ryan responded with a quietly spoken ‘fuck’ under his breath. “Let’s just start filming, yeah? The sooner we get this done, the sooner morning will come, the sooner you can leave. Now, where do you think you’re gonna want the static cams set up?” TJ asked as Mark held up the bags he’d carried in with them.

2

Against Devon’s wishes, they decided to film the intro for the episode in the lobby with the dead rat, the compromise being that Shane and Ryan had to sit on opposite sides of the hallway that lead back the way they’d come so that the rodent’s body wouldn’t make it into the final shot. This was agreeable to all of them, but as Shane sat there, waiting for the camera to start rolling, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering back to its corpse occasionally, trying to deduce what it could have died from.

They tried to film with what little natural light they had left, but the sun had already been sinking when they’d arrived. Whatever light it managed to provide ended up fading away too fast for them to effectively use, eventually prompting TJ to insist on bringing in big, bright lights so they weren’t stuck filming in the dark. As Shane squinted into the newfound light source, his eyes adjusting poorly to the brightness, he managed to get a better look at the room they were set up in.

Based on his own opinion and how little he actually knew about Léry’s, it certainly didn’t look like the kind of place run by a malicious, CIA sanctioned group of sadists; to him, it looked like a hospital, plain and simple. The white paint along the walls was cracked and peeling, revealing discoloured splotches of drywall that furthered the eerie, run-down atmosphere the building had as a whole. Regardless of that and the dead rat, there was nothing in the general vicinity that implied Léry’s might have been used for something as sinister as torture- they even had what looked to be remnants of vintage motivational posters decaying behind the reception desk. Despite how foreboding the building had looked from the outside, inside it both looked and felt normal, which made him wonder again about where his original discomfort upon viewing the building might have derived from.

“This week on the season finale of Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural, we’re investigating Léry’s Memorial Institute in Michaelstown, Illinois as a part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?”

Hearing Ryan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Unaware that they’d begun the segment, Shane turned to look at the camera Mark was holding and shook his head curtly on cue. The motion was well-practiced and concise, even if he was still squinting because of the lights.

He waited patiently as Ryan spoke of what he knew about Léry’s alleged history, repeating a lot of what he’d already mentioned to Shane earlier for the official intro. He went more in depth as he talked about the history of the building to the camera than he did with Shane, adding on some embellishments about the various conspiracy theories he’d dug up that involved what the staff at Léry’s might’ve been up to, and none of it sounded good.

“Léry’s was condemned and abandoned in 1983, and was even rumored to have been burnt down, but as you can see, since we are currently sitting inside the building, that clearly isn’t the case,” Ryan recited, shooting Shane a look that invited him in to begin a banter.

“Ryan, I swear to God if you’re trying to tell me that the building itself is a ghost, I will resign.” Shane forced his face into a serious expression that matched his disapproving tone of voice as Ryan laughed loudly. “You can get Brent back to be your new ‘ghoulfriend’ and you can just- the two of you can just run around these spooky places like a couple of headless chickens screaming about ghosts together.”

“No, that’s- that’s not what I’m saying,” Ryan said, a humorous inflection tinging his voice as he spoke. “What I’m saying is, is that someone either lied to cover up any potential future investigations into Léry’s alleged operations, or someone got it wrong; either way, Léry’s is still here.”

“And how’d you come to find that out?” Shane asked, honestly interested in Ryan’s answer. His friend had already admitted that researching the place had been hard and often netted him no real answers; if any and all official documentations surrounding Léry’s said it was no longer standing, then he wondered how Ryan was able to discover that it actually was.

“I looked up the coordinates on Google’s satellite image maps.” Shane raised his eyebrows at that, and Ryan shrugged in response. “There was a building here, and when I compared it to old images of the Memorial Institute I’d found dated pre 1980’s, they seemed to match. When I reached out to the current property owners, they agreed to let us look around as long as we didn’t try to ‘solve’ anything.”

“We never do,” Shane said wistfully, dramatically looking away for a moment, and again Ryan laughed, the sound of it echoing around the walls of the room.

“Alright, whatever, big guy; we can do all the ghost hunting we want, they said, but we have to let the sleeping dogs lie on whether or not Léry’s has a ‘tortured’ past or not; they don’t want any trouble with the government.” Ryan looked amused by his own pun, but Shane knew that his ability to find humour in little things like that wouldn’t last the night.

“Well, let’s get started then, shall we?” Shane said, slapping his hands to his thighs and beginning to feel his eagerness returning to him. He started to stand up, and Ryan sighed.

“Yeah, fuck, let’s- let’s get into it.”

3

“Is there anyone here with us right now?” Ryan spoke loudly and clearly as he addressed the spirit box, glancing around the room they were standing in cautiously as he held the small radio up between them. There was an overturned examination table and some rusted chairs in the room with them that Shane had initially tried to sit in, but found them too unstable to support him. “If there is, we’d really like to talk with you. My name’s Ryan, and my unnecessarily large friend here is Shane; I know he’s a little frightening to look at, but can you say either of our names?”

They waited for a response, Ryan pensively shifting his eyes around as though he might see a ghost hiding behind the old furniture while Shane did his best to not let his boredom show on camera. He waited silently for a moment, letting the spirit box spit out jumbled radio frequencies and broken fragments of words for Ryan to analyze later before deciding to chime in.

“Did you ever stop to think that the spirit box might be triggering these spirits you’re trying to contact?” he asked, voice drawling as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. “If that doctor you mentioned earlier really did exist, then don’t you think it stands to reason that the static from the box might be traumatizing them? Torturing them in their afterlife? Maybe that’s why they don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re just saying that because it tortures you,” Ryan said, snickering. He opened his mouth to say something else in support of his use of the spirit box, but was hushed when it began to pick up an unusual, garbled sort of noise.

If Shane hadn’t been accustomed to the usual tones of static the spirit box produced as it skipped through radio frequencies, he would have chalked the sound that was coming through the speaker now as typical spirit box sounds, but innately he knew that it wasn’t. Whatever was coming through the radio now was different, in that it had cut through the previous channel of static to effectively broadcast the new sound.

He could tell from the stunned reaction on Ryan’s face that he, too, recognized the sound as something unusual. This wet, static noise that was coming through the receiver had been unheard by either of them before.

Ryan turned his head to look up at Shane, any trace of amusement he’d been displaying before now gone as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Before either of them could properly process what they were listening to, the sound slowly tapered off into silence.

Shane stared at the box in Ryan’s hand, waiting for the usual sounds of static to come back through the speaker so he could explain the phenomenon away as some sort of malfunction. He was preemptively formulating a response to the questions Ryan was sure to start asking when the whispering began.

The voice was low and quiet, possibly male, and managed to speak uninterrupted for more than a few consecutive seconds. Shane felt his skin break out into goosebumps as he listened, leaning forward to try and get a better understanding of what was being said even as Ryan recoiled, almost dropping the spirit box in his fright.

If the voice was whispering in any known language, Shane didn’t recognize it; the words registered as garbled, barely distinguishable nonsense to his ears, but the tone with which it spoke, intent and persistent, had his hair beginning to stand on end. Everyone in the room was hushed, although Ryan was beginning to hyperventilate, his breath coming in fast, wheezing gulps. His hand was visibly trembling, but he resolutely did not drop or set the spirit box down, a small act of bravery Shane admired him for.

They didn’t have long to focus on what the voice was saying before a loud, burst of static tore out of the speaker, ending the strange noises abruptly and causing Ryan to shout in surprise. Shane blinked solemnly at the little box as it returned to flickering through regular radio channels before he met Ryan’s stupefied gaze.

“What the fuck just happened,” Ryan gasped out, quickly turning the box off and setting it aside to deal with his minor anxiety attack.

No one had an immediate answer.

“Did anyone recognize what it was saying?” Devon asked timidly. “Not trying to be an alarmist here, but that… didn’t sound human to me.”

Ryan moaned at the implication and sat down hard on the floor, uncaring of how dirty it was.

“Look, let’s just all calm down and take a minute to think about it logically,” Shane said, attempting to take control of the situation in order to soothe his companion’s panic, but he didn’t feel calm himself. His heart was thudding away rapidly in his chest, though he told himself that it was due in part to being taken off guard by the loud outburst of static that came through at the end of the transmission. “Do you know every earthly language that exists?” he asked Devon, who shook her head reluctantly. He repeated the question to Mark and TJ before directing it to Ryan, and all their answers were the same. “Neither do I; just because it spoke in a language we can’t immediately identify doesn’t mean it wasn’t human. Have we all forgotten we’re in an old, ex-governmental building that was run by the fucking CIA? The box probably just latched onto an old numbers station or something.

“And anyway, I’d expect you to be more excited about this, little guy,” he said gently to Ryan, trying to encourage a positive reaction out of him. “We caught all that on film, buddy.”

From the floor, Ryan had stopped his rapid breathing as he processed Shane’s line of reasoning. He still looked frightened, but his expression also seemed more speculative after listening to Shane deliver his cowboy speech. When Shane reached a hand down to help him up, Ryan took it.

“You’re right. We have evidence,” Ryan said slowly as he rose back to full height, his eyes lighting up as he clasped Shane’s hand tightly to his chest.

Shane winced and tried to pull his hand free, but the clammy grip with which Ryan held to it was strong. “It could be any number of things before it could be ghosts, Ryan, you know that.”

“But if it’s not any of those other things, then it- it’s real! We have actual, recorded evidence! Léry’s Memorial Institute is certified haunted, baby!”

He let go of Shane’s hand at last, his fear momentarily forgotten as he did a quick dance, pumping his fist up and down into the air in a celebratory fashion. Mark trained the camera on him to capture the moment, swapping from Ryan’s joyful expression to Shane’s look of bewildered amusement. Devon looked on with a congratulatory smile until TJ eventually spoke.

“You… do realize you still have to stay the night here, right?” TJ said somberly, knowing that what he had to say would was going to affect Ryan negatively, and already they could all see the impact his words had on him as he stopped dancing. “I’m happy for you and all, but don’t forget we have a whole episode left to shoot.” Fresh horror dawned on Ryan’s face, his excitement over finding proof of the supernatural immediately dying out when he realized it didn’t absolve him from fulfilling the rest of his contractual obligations.

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” he said with a groan, his shoulders slumping at the remembered thought. He brought his hands to his face and dragged his fingers down, pulling at his skin. “Ohh, fuck, you’re right. Shit.”

“Certified haunted, baby,” Shane teased with a weak grin, knowing already that it was going to be a long, sleepless night for the both of them.

4

They explored the area a little further after the incident with the spirit box, but didn’t manage to capture or illicit any other supernatural responses to their presence, though not for lack of trying. Everywhere they went, Shane demanded that the ghosts repeat the strange audio they’d managed to capture before and called them out on their cowardice when nothing happened. Ryan grew increasingly upset with his behaviour, but Shane was out to prove a point: whatever they’d discovered through the use of the spirit box wasn’t something supernatural, and if the spirits weren’t willing to entertain them, then he wasn’t willing to entertain the notion that it could be ghosts.

The logical part of his brain demanded he debunk it immediately, even if it meant he had to poop all over Ryan’s parade in order to do so, and he planned on taking the mightiest shit he could before they wrapped up filming for the night.

5

Most of the upper floors of Léry’s were condemned and deemed too unsafe for them to explore, barring their ability to scope out the building in its entirety, but the ground floors were plenty big enough to take up hours’ worth of time to investigate.

With Mark and TJ’s help, they set up three static cams where Ryan thought they’d get the most activity: one in the room where they’d gotten the spirit box to communicate with them (with an EVP device they would leave on all night), one in the reception area pointing down the hall they’d entered through, and the final one in a room Ryan had called the ‘treatment theatre’, where they’d decided to bunk down for the night.

It was a circular room with one single, ominous examination table set up in the middle over a system of rusty, grated flooring. A large set-up of outdated lighting systems hung low and broken over it, hanging like an untended widowmaker’s tree waiting to collapse, and for the first time that night Shane wondered if perhaps Ryan’s torture theory might have some truth behind it. Copper stains could be seen leading from the table to the grated floors, and he resolutely decided not to focus on them.

On the floor above them, reached only by a set of stairs set into the back of the room, was a windowed viewing booth that jutted out from the wall. A sense of unease overcame him as Shane looked at it, wondering what the people of the past had need of to stand up there in a room such as this, but he knew in the back of his mind what the answer to that was.

He tried to tuck his discomfort away as he laid out his sleeping bag next to Ryan’s, and wound up unsettling some dust into the air as he smoothed it out and plopped his pillow into place. He grimaced and tried to suppress a cough, but doing so only made the urge to cough worse. Ryan watched him hack whatever he’d inhaled into the crook of his arm, a wry smile of amusement playing at his lips.

“Need some water?” Devon asked, stepping forward with a water bottle already in hand.

Shane took it gratefully and drank until he felt his throat clear up. “Thanks,” he said as he capped it and set the bottle down beside his pillow.

“Should we see you guys out?” Ryan asked as Mark finished adjusting the camera that was set facing their sleeping bags, the red recording light already blinking with purpose.

Mark shrugged as he stood, taking his big shoulder camera back from TJ, who had had been dutifully holding it for him so he didn’t have to set it on the dirty floor.

“Nah, I think we can find our way out on our own,” TJ said as Mark wiped his knees clean of the grime. “I know you’ll probably just bolt if you get anywhere close to the exit anyway, Bergara.”

It was Shane’s turn to smirk as Ryan scowled, knowing that there was definitely some truth in that statement. Ryan had been unusually on edge throughout the rest of their investigation after their incident with the spirit box, and all Shane’s goading had done was make it worse.

“Have a good night, guys,” Devon said, looking uncertain about leaving them alone. She gave a little wave as Mark and TJ each said their goodbyes in turn. “We’ll see you in the morning; be safe, okay?”

“We’ll be fine; what’s the worst that’ll happen? A rat takes a nibble out of one of our ears?” Shane mustered up a smile he hoped looked assuring, but Devon didn’t seem comforted by it.

“The closest hotel we could book is 20 minutes away, but even still, don’t hesitate to call if you need something,” she said, and TJ nodded in affirmation.

“We’ll come as quick as we can,” he said, and Shane wasn’t sure why, but his words left a heavy weight in his stomach.

“Guys, we’ll be fine, this isn’t our first rodeo,” Shane said exasperatedly, and Ryan backed him up with a nod.

“The ghoul boys know how to behave themselves during a spooky sleepover,” he affirmed, but didn’t have the confidence required to back up what he was saying.

Still, Devon looked a little less doubtful and finally relented. She bid them goodnight once more before the three of them took their leave, carrying all the extra equipment Shane and Ryan wouldn’t need away with them to make packing up a little easier in the morning.

None of them knew it would be the last time they ever saw each other.

Shane sat down on his sleeping bag with a slight grunt and listened to their crew’s footsteps receding out of the room and away from them, echoing down the hall ominously. He waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore before he started getting ready for sleep, peeling away the opening of his sleeping bag to tuck his long legs inside.

“And then there were two,” he said rather cheerfully to Ryan as he got comfortable. He was met with a miserable sigh as his co-host begrudgingly slid into his own sleeping bag. He zipped it up promptly and stared up at the ceiling bitterly.

“You say that every time they leave, give it a rest already.”

“But it’s true every time it warrants being said,” Shane replied, drawing his phone out of his pocket and opening up Twitter. “We’re the only two people left in here; anyone else doesn’t exist, and you seem to need reminding of that fairly often.”

Ryan sighed shakily and turned his flashlight off, casting them both into the gloomy darkness, broken only by the glow of Shane’s phone as he scrolled through his social media feed.

6

“Shane? Are you awake? I’m kinda freaking out hardcore over here, buddy.”

It took a moment for Shane to register that he was being spoken to as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, rolling over in his bag to face where Ryan was laid out. As his vision adjusted to the dark, he could see that Ryan was wide-awake, still staring up at the ceiling where the viewing booth stuck out like a sore thumb.

“What?” Shane asked, his voice heavy and tired, rumbling out of his throat in a low timbre. “Whatsit?”

“I- I can’t sleep,” Ryan admitted, his voice sounding small.

“Surprising absolutely no one,” Shane muttered before yawning loudly and rubbing the crust out of the corners of his eyes; he’d only been just been able to fall asleep before Ryan woke him up.

“Shut up,” Ryan grumbled. “It- I can’t sleep because it feels like- it feels like we’re being watched. I know it’s just the dark, but sometimes I think I can see people up there, looking down at us.”

Shane turned his gaze up to the viewing booth, but couldn’t see anything that looked like what Ryan was worrying about. His eyes did try to force shapes out of the darkness behind the window, but he intrinsically knew that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, trying to get him to see things that weren’t actually there. “There’s no one here but us, Ryan,” he reminded him, turning his attention back to his friend.

“But the voice on the spirit box-”

“-was just a voice,” Shane cut in. “And look, I’ll be honest with you- it was a little jarring, and I’ll admit to being a little unnerved by it myself, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Wh- no! Why would that make me feel better?” Ryan spluttered, finally tearing his eyes away from the booth above them to fix his wide-eyed stare on Shane. “You’re supposed to be my, my grounding rock, my calming spirit; how can you be scared? You’re not allowed to be afraid, I- I’m the one who fears!”

Shane stared at Ryan for one wordless minute before breaking out into a hearty laugh, his voice carrying around the room and making it sound louder than it was.

“Alright, calm down there cowardly Heisenberg; I didn’t say I was scared, just unnerved,” he clarified. His laugh seemed to ease some of Ryan’s worries, as his face cracked into a tentative grin at his words. “It was weird, yes, but nothing else strange happened while we were walking around, did it?”

“No, I guess not,” Ryan admitted, looking a little sheepish now. He contemplated Shane’s words quietly for a moment before he asked, “Do you really think it was just a numbers channel?”

“I think it’s a possibility, yes,” Shane said, picking his words carefully so as not to exacerbate Ryan’s anxieties. He honestly had no idea what it was or what it could be, but he wasn’t anywhere near ready yet to admit that it could’ve had supernatural origins. “We’re in a weird old government hospital; I think the most likely thing to have happened is that our little boxy pal picked up on a weird frequency we weren’t supposed to have access to and gave us a glimpse into something that wasn’t meant for us.”

“Yeah, but, we’re in Illinois,” Ryan began, picking at the zippered hem of his sleeping bag as he put the thoughts he’d been ruminating on into words.

“So? If you’re about to start shit-talking this wholesome state, so help me God, we’re going to have to start exchanging some serious words here.”

“No, that’s not what- Look, Illinois is in America; what possible radio frequency being broadcast here could we have picked up on that doesn’t speak English, or any other spoken American language, or even human?” Ryan asked, gesticulating around them as he spoke.

Shane sighed and rolled onto his back, adjusting his pillow to better support his neck. “You don’t know that it’s not any known human language, Ryan, we established that. It was probably just some kind of a looping cipher the CIA forgot to turn off when they moved out, not some- some demon speaking to us in tongues.”

Beside him, Ryan groaned loudly and quickly withdrew his arms back into his sleeping bag, as though he were afraid that by naming it, one would suddenly appear.

“Please don’t say demon.”

“You just did,” Shane said, unable to keep himself from speaking rather snidely. Ryan shot him a pointed look of annoyance, but he couldn’t help his uncooperative attitude in that moment. He was sleepy, and could feel all the dust they’d been breathing in coagulating deep in his lungs. He was irritated, and he let it show. “Look, Ry, we can discuss this all we want tomorrow, but I am incredibly tired right now. Just… try and get some sleep, okay? We’ll pick this up later.”

“I think we both know that’s not gonna happen,” Ryan muttered, but he mercifully let the issue drop.

Whether or not their conversation had helped or hindered Ryan, Shane couldn’t say. It had been a strange night for both of them, all things considered, and he wanted nothing more than to just be done with it. As he closed his eyes to try and go back to sleep, the last thing Shane would later recall seeing was the darkness taking shape in the form of a face looming behind the window pane of the viewing booth, looking down upon them intently. A strange metallic taste wouldn’t leave his mouth no matter how much water he drank to try and ride himself of it, and although Ryan had forsaken the notion of sleep for himself entirely, he too eventually drifted off unawares.

And that was all it took; by the morning they were gone, taken without a trace, everything they’d brought with them left behind and undisturbed.

[byunnct]

cute cat, cute boyfriend [jeno nct]

pairing: lee jeno x reader

summary: jeno is a big fan of your cat and secretly a big fan of you. college!au

a/n: since i don’t have time to write a full fic but have been in the mood to write i thought i’d have a go at bullet point scenarios :D this was inspired by that viral tweet ‘whenever im sad i text this girl to show me her cat’!! hope it isn’t too bad <3

so you have a cat, a beautiful ragdoll cat, lovingly named cracker

and you have no idea why or how but certain places on your college campus allow residents to have pets

you’re not complaining because it means you were able to bring your lil friend from back home with you to college

and she has the brightest blue eyes that your best friend renjun swears hypnotises people into giving her treats

the top of her head, around her ears and just under her jaw, is an ashy grey with some parts a slightly darker grey

the rest of her is white

she’s the most elegant feline ever and her tail has a sassy sway to it whenever she walks around your dorm

at the beginning of the year someone created an instagram page dedicated to the campus’s pets and it was instantly popular

even endorsed by the college itself because it’s a pure expression of admiration and love for students’ pets and really what’s better than that

so your roommate submitted pictures she took of your cat to go onto the page after you offhandedly mentioned that cracker would be the most popular pet on the page

you were not wrong

cracker instantly captured everyone’s attention and became the most liked picture on the account to the point where the owner of the page messaged ur roommate to ask for more pictures (“i told you! it’s the eyes, i swear! she’s like a witch!” –renjun)

people on campus even started approaching your roommate to ask about the cat and she had to direct them all to you, each person asking you to start your own instagram page for your little popular queen

you said no every time because you’re a struggling college student who spends all her time in college or working to earn money which is then spent on ur damn cat you don’t have time to run an instagram account for her

and she’s already spoiled enough you don’t want to boost cracker’s ego too much

unbeknownst to you, jeno fell completely in love with cracker the second he saw her on the Instagram page (jeno, an avid visitor of the campus pet instagram page) and would always whine to his friends about how cute the cat is

since he’s allergic he can’t own them himself and his roommate, jaemin, uses this excuse every time jeno even BEGINS thinking about owning a pet

every time a new picture of cracker was posted on the campus instagram page he’d get so excited and be the first to comment and like

he’d get teased by his friends too because essentially jeno was a really big fan of cat, an animal, compared to donghyuck who would be freaking out over the new red velvet selfie – they’re in different worlds

BUT jeno can’t get over how enchanting cracker’s large eyes are, how fluffy her tail is, how photogenic a CAT is and he’s completely enamoured by your little feline

so one night there’s a big party to celebrate the end of the first term but you sadly can’t go since you don’t feel too good and don’t want to make yourself worse

it’s also cracker’s birthday and the SECOND you coughed and your throat felt scratchy you knew it was a sign from the gods to stay home and celebrate w your cat

your roommate goes tho, after feeding cracker one too many treats as a birthday gift, and since you offered to pick her up if need be she said she’ll text you later

at midnight you get a text from an unknown number

[00:17am, UNKNOWN]: heyyyyyyyyyyy

you think its your roommate texting from someone else’s phone because hers died so you respond instantly with ‘you good?’

[00:20am, UNKNOWN]: im great havea quesiotn

[00:20am, you]: shoot

[00:21am, UNKNOWN]: sned ur cat

[00:22am, you]: what? Call me

your phone rings a minute later and when you answer

it’s not your roommate

it’s a boy you’ve never heard before and he’s mumbling incoherently and it worries you

not only because you were expecting your roommate but because this guy sounds absolutely GONE and you can picture him swaying from side to side due to intoxication

you ask him his name about ten times before you get an actual answer: jeno

you recognise the name as one of renjun’s friends so you know you can at least trust him to some extent

he keeps saying ‘send your cat’ and you don’t quite know what he means so when you ask him he says

“i love your cat”

that’s it. He keeps repeating ‘send your cat’ and ‘i love your cat’ and no matter what else you say to him, ‘go drink some water!’ ‘where are you?’ ‘do you need me to call someone?’, he keeps going on about cracker and you look at the cat lying next to you, lazily cleaning her paws, and hang up on him

you take the party hat you had taken pictures of her in earlier and put it back on her head, telling her you’re sorry you have to put it back on and promise her treats if she sits still, and bring up the camera app on your phone

then you go back to your messages and send two of the best pictures you took of her to this jeno guy, hoping you’re understanding him correctly and that you can convince him to listen to you after he’s seen the picture

the response you get is a bunch of keyboard smashes

you call him back and he’s.. crying? kind of? he sounds choked up but he’s so drunk you wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was crying from happiness

he’s much more willing to listen to you after seeing cracker and keeps telling you how cute she is and it sounds like he’s trying to stand up from wherever he is from the shuffling on the other end of the call

then there’s more shuffling and another voice, much more sober, comes through the receiver

“im so sorry, whoever you are. jeno’s a mess. im taking him home now, im his roommate, he’s ok. bye.”

and the call ends

you go to sleep, still a little worried for jeno, but your worries are quashed when you wake up because jeno has texted you again

much more sober and embarrassed

[11:57am, UNKNOWN]: im so sorry omg

[11:57am, UNKNOWN]: you must hate me haha

[11:57am, UNKNOWN]: i got too drunk sorry you can block my number if you want

[11:57am, UNKNOWN]: thank u for the cat pictures tho im a big fan

your heart warms at the texts because he seems to feel guilty and it’s endearing, and then you smile when you read the text about your cat

you reply telling him it’s ok, you’re not mad at all and you’re glad he got home safe, but how did he get your number? you’ve never spoken before?

he explains that he has memory of drunk jeno asking renjun for your number, to which he was bluntly rejected and told no, and then asked around the party for who has your number until he stumbled upon someone who gave it to him with a wink

[13:10pm, JENO?]: i think people think i was trying to make a move on you haha

jeno apologises about twelve more times throughout the conversation and you tell him it’s ok every time

and ask if a picture of cracker will make him feel better

…to which he responds yes instantly

and from then on even though you and jeno barely know each other, your only connection renjun and now your cat, a bond formed

jeno would text you at random times with random messages asking for a picture of cracker

and if you were able to you were more than happy to oblige

renjun thought it was really weird that you two became almost..friends… just through occasionally texting and sending pictures of an animal to him

jaemin initially thought jeno finally got a significant other since whenever he’d look at him jeno would be smiling at his phone, texting with quick fingers to respond to whoever he was talking to

renjun broke jaemin’s heart when he told him jeno was happy over a cat

but he pieced it back together when he mentioned the owner of the cat was an attractive female

this goes on for several months before one day you receive a text saying there’s a package available to be picked up for you? and you’re like? Who

so you go pick it up and when you get back to your dorm you cautiously open it to find an array of cat treats and cat toys

there’s even a little post-it note with a cute message for cracker

to cracker, the best kitty cat in all the land! im your biggest fan!! –jeno :)

you can’t help but smile at the post-it, your cheeks heating and a small riot of butterflies in your stomach

you chide yourself because you really don’t know this boy, if you think about it, and you shouldn’t be getting feelings over someone you’ve only ever spoken to in person once or twice

and the post-it was written to your cat, not you..so..

you glare slightly at cracker as she sniffs and noses at the treats on the table

but then take pictures of her with her mountain of gifts and send it to jeno with a bunch of heart emojis

jeno, eating lunch with his friends at the time, instantly smiles and blushes at your response, replying with smiley faces

jaemin, nudging jeno: that your gf?

renjun: if it’s the damn cat jeno i swear to god

jeno: uh

jeno doesn’t bother mentioning that although the cat pictures were cute, he was happier about the hearts you sent to him

a week later, you have another package delivery

its jeno again

the week after, another package. Jeno

the week after that, yet another package. who? jeno.

this goes on for at least another two months

you’re stocked on treats for cracker to last you the next several years

enough toys that your dorm is covered constantly, as if you own a toddler instead of a cat

your roommate thinks it’s the cutest thing ever that jeno is doing this and is CONVINCED that jeno is doing it for YOU, not for cracker

you, with red cheeks and looking at the floor to avoid eye contact: shut up u know nothing

until

it’s a dark day, a dark night, looming dark clouds stuck in the sky that threaten to unleash downpours at any second

and you’ve just left the vet that isn’t too far from your dorm

cracker isn’t with you

it was sudden, so abrupt you didn’t have time to process everything and you’re still slightly dazed

when you get back to your dorm your roommate is there, sitting with cups of tea ready for whatever you want to give her

she notices the absence of your best friend and understands instantly, hugging you gently as you lean into her and break down

cracker had fallen ill suddenly, by no fault of your own, and when you reached the vet you were already in tears with a tight stomach, as if you knew what was coming

the vet told you with sad eyes the best option was to leave cracker with her and let her do what she has to, to save cracker a lot of pain

after a teary but warm goodbye, you saw cracker for the last time

the following day, at such bad timing it felt like the world was laughing at you, you receive another package from jeno

you pick the package up but don’t open it

you ask your roommate to inform that stupid pet instagram about cracker, a bitter tone to your voice

even though cracker was your cat and so her death shouldn’t be anyone else’s business, you knew people would start asking questions if cracker no longer appeared on the page

you assume jeno will see the account’s post about the loss of cracker and he does, sending you a short but sweet message saying cracker was the best cat ever, which she was, and that she lived the best life with the best owner, which she did

you don’t reply though, too choked up to look at the message for too long

jeno asks renjun about you every day and a week or two later he’s glad to hear you’re feeling much better and are getting back into routine

one night, a friday, you’re in your dorm typing an essay when you hear a faint meow

you instantly ignore it, putting it down to you still not being quite used to complete silence in your dorm

but then you hear it again, and again, and it doesn’t sound like cracker’s meows

it sounds smaller, weaker almost, and like its coming from right outside your door

even though you’re still slightly convinced that you’re going insane you walk towards your door

you open it tentatively and just enough that you can use one eye to look into the hallway

and there

is a little black kitten

staring up at you

it’s the smallest thing, all black with bright green eyes that look too big for it’s body

and it lets out the same meow you had been hearing that you thought you were imagining

you open your door fully, bending down to gently pet the kitten and look around the hallway to find who left the kitten here

you scan the hallway a couple of times before you notice a head of black hair peeking from the end of the hallway, their eyes wide when you make eye contact with them

slowly, the person steps out from the wall they were hid behind to approach you

it’s jeno

you’re still in shock when he reaches you, and you just stare up at him with an open mouth

“do you like him?”

the words bring you back to earth and you nod before looking at the kitten again, asking, “is he mine?”

jeno nods and smiles widely, “all yours.”

you stand up with the kitten in your arms, the soft creature already snuggling and getting comfortable in your arms, “are you sure?”

jeno giggles at you and you realise he’s much more attractive than you remember, so handsome it makes you flustered

“the second i saw him i thought he’d be perfect for you. there’s something special about him.” jeno shrugs

when you look at the kitten again you repeatedly say thank you to jeno

you’re so surprised by this gift you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself

or what this means

but jeno seems to understand that even though you’re thankful you’re not sure where to go from here

so when he reaches over to very lightly smooth his fingertips over the kitten’s head, he says

“i thought this kitten could be our child. you can have full custody, though. i’ll just stay over on the weekends.”

and you can’t believe what you just heard

your child? stay over at the weekend?

you laugh a little in disbelief

“what does any of that even mean?”

jeno forces out a laugh and jiggles his shoulders slightly as if to compose himself

“this is my, obviously terrible, attempt at asking you on a date.”

oh

you’re in shock all over again, and jeno reaches behind his head to scratch his neck awkwardly

“i mean- you don’t have to. im not forcing you to-though the cat makes it seem like i am, doesn’t it? i don’t mean it like that, i swear. the kitten is yours i promise-“

when jeno sees you smiling at him he stops talking, eyebrows furrowed to show he doesn’t quite understand why you’re looking at him like that

“i’d love to go on a date with you, jeno.”

jeno nods at you several times as he processes the words, then says “great!” with a thumbs up

you smile at each other then, and it’s a warm atmosphere with the sleeping small kitten in your arms

after your first date, and many others, jeno, true to his word, starts staying over on the weekends to look after the kitten

by that i mean he uses the kitten and his ‘custody’ over him to stay over and cuddle with you

even if it means he sneezes aggressively every five minutes