#I’m in mourning until further notice thank you

[thiagodasilva]

I can live and die in peace knowing that Jeremy, Kieran, Sarah, and Matthew have all won Emmys during their run in succession…cast of all time…

[emelinstriker]

Macaque ♤ No Response Pt.2

Art drawn by me + the OC is mine. c:

Macaque is making things right.

CW: topic of death ig- i mean it's hanahaki pt.2

♢ Part 1

♤ ~ Comfort ~ ♤

"Hm. That was one abrupt ending... Even with the accelerator keeping up with the schedule. But does this case qualify as being my turn or yours?"

"Their story doesn't continue in death, Reaper."

"Eh, true. Suit yourself then, man..."

-.-.-

It's been six days since your passing, and Macaque was unable to get much done... Or rather, anything at all. Your death took a giant toll on his mental health as he believed it was all his fault. It didn't help that his guilt lead him to the constant reminder that he did indeed love you. MK and his friends actually did take notice of Macaque's sudden disappearance from the face of the earth. The noodle boy tried getting in contact with him through his phone, but to no avail. Even Monkey King was on edge, unsure whether or not his sworn brother was back to his usual scheming self...

At least, that was until one of his monkeys found Macaque rather curled up on a tree branch on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was in the middle of being comforted by a group of little monkeys who noticed his sadness and came to cheer him up. Wukong decided to cautiously approach him from beneath the branches, while having a monkey on his own shoulders.

"Macaque? Are you okay up there? What are you doing here?" He asked, not noticing the other's grief. The dark-furred simian on the other hand simply glared at him before looking away again, hugging a little monkey in his arms.

"Leave me alone, Wukong... Go bother MK or whatever", Macaque responded, trying to ignore the other monkey. But of course, the Monkey King refused to give up. So he decided to join the shadow monkey up in the tree crown. After placing his monkey on the ground, he swiftly jumped up, landing nearly perfect on a branch just a bit to the side of the other demon. The branch he landed on was also a bit more elevated than the one Macaque was on. Meanwhile, the shadow monkey merely glanced in his direction once he landed before looking back towards the little monkey in his arms.

Monkey King made himself comfortable as he sat down. "What's wrong, bud? You've been awfully quiet this week. Did something happen? You know, you can talk to me", he offered. However, the only response he got in return was a grunt. The orange-furred simian's frown deepened.

"Macaque..."

The shadow monkey sighed, "...Ugh. Fine. I'll tell you." He gently scratched the top of the small monkey's head before eyeing the Monkey King sitting on the higher branch. "Someone very close to me passed away. There. Are you happy now?" He hissed out, glaring once more.

Wukong was shocked. But knowing the pain and grief of losing a mortal friend, he absolutely understood how Macaque felt. Though, he didn't even know his brother had anyone else close to him...

Not knowing how to approach this topic without upsetting him further, he decided to silently comfort him. Carefully hopping onto the branch Macaque was sitting on, he sat down right next to him. He then proceeded to pull the shadow monkey close to him while loosely wrapping his tail around the other's.

"I'm sorry... I... didn't know you had someone else close to you, besides MK", he said softly.

Despite not being able to see his expression from his position, he could clearly feel Macaque's body and tail stiffen up for a moment. However, he slowly started to relax again, eventually leaning into his brother's comforting hold while his tail gave his brother's tail a light squeeze. He didn't think he needed this, but he did.

"...Thanks."

While Macaque was still mourning, he did somewhat start to get better with Monkey King's help. Wukong tried to be there for him as much as he could while also giving him space to breathe and think. He did tell his successor about the situation and basically told his friends not to upset the other monkey. The group was actually very understanding and made sure he didn't feel uncomfortable around them.

At least he was able to move around more without feeling guilty... right?

Well, that was until he one night was woken up in a tree by the presence of a cloaked entity... The aura they gave off sent shivers down his spine. They did not touch him. They did not speak. They just... stared up at him from beneath the branches. What seemed to be a red fox mask with a veil in the back hid away their features.

He sat up, alerted by the fact they even managed to roam Flower Fruit Mountain undetected. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The cloaked entity began to move their arm. out of the darkness of the fabric, revealing a clawed hand that was shades darker than their black cloak. They were holding what seemed to be a high-tech watch. The entity had a somewhat corrupted male voice.

"Oracle. I am here to give you this", 'he' responded before throwing the item up into the tree. The shadow monkey caught it, even if only out of reflex. He glanced at it, not understanding why 'he' would need to give him a watch. "It has a one-time use. Be mindful, Liu-Er Mihou."

Macaque's back straightened at the mention of his name. But when he looked back at the stranger... 'he' was gone.

...Well, if this wasn't the most suspiciously cryptic encounter he's had in years.

He decided to take a closer look at the watch to at least find a reason as to why it was given to him... And he found his answer right away once he figured out how to turn it on. The small screen displayed the logo of what he assumed was the manufacturer before it changed to it saying "Go back to what once was. Change date and time to destination. No return." Then it proceeded to display a field to insert a date and a field to insert a time.

Sure, it could just be asking for him to insert the current date and time like how one would set a normal watch... But the fact that it mentioned a destination as well as telling him to go back to what once was... It seemed like a risky opportunity. Perhaps the entity was a time god from the Celestial Realm who knew about his struggles?

That gave him an idea.

If this watch was an actual way of time travel, he could go back and fix so many mistakes he made. He could even change past events... Like Sun Wukong killing him... He could avoid dying! He could avoid becoming the Lady Bone Demon's pawn! He could-

His heart sank in his chest as an image of you smiling flashed before his eyes.

...No.

If he changed time before ever meeting you, he probably would've never met you in the first place. And that knowledge would only eat away at his conscience further... The dark-furred simian's eyes glanced up at the moonlight sneaking in past the leaves in thought.

...He'll do it.

Macaque wrapped the watch around his wrist. When he inserted the date of your death, he began to strategize. If he never sends the message, he would not have to tell you about ever having a date planned. He could mend your relationship with him. After double-checking the time he sent the meeting message on his phone, he decided to remove an extra ten minutes to make sure he wasn't in the middle of typing it out. Macaque took a deep breath, mentally praying to whatever god was in charge of the flow of time that nothing goes wrong, before ultimately selecting 'OK'.

"Loading... Initiating time warp", the watch read.

He closed his eyes, preparing himself for whatever was going to happen next...

He was hit with a strong, yet rather warm breeze...

...

Beep-Beep

Beep-Beep

...

...

...It just went off?

"Huh?" Confused, he opened his eyes... And was actually surprised that the sun was now in the sky. Did the watch only skip to the morning?

But that's when he noticed, the sun wasn't rising. It was actually setting.

He checked his phone and-

...It worked.

And as that realization kicked in, he noticed how the watch suddenly turned to some form of black slime before becoming solid and being blown away by the wind like ash. He couldn't help but narrow his eyebrows in disgust at the feeling on his wrist, flailing it around to try get any other slime off.

Wait, shit- He was under the assumption that he would end up in the same spot as he was when he was about to text you. Now panicked, he quickly used a shadow portal to return to Megapolis, going straight for your apartment.

Luckily it didn't take long for him to arrive at your front door. He took a deep breath, relieved that he can still change your future. However, he wasn't quite certain who the person was you were in love with. After all, usually Hanahaki would take between days to months to fully develop. So while there was a chance you were in love with him and died after realizing he was going on a date, there was also a chance that you were interested in someone else and the timing was just awful. He would have to test some things to confirm anything. Because let's face it, he knew you well enough to know that you would try weasel your way out of the conversation if he brought it up.

Macaque looked down at his phone and noticed a new message. But it wasn't from you. It was from the person he was supposed to go on a date with later that day. Ah, right, they did text him before that.

'hi handsome can you come over for a sec before the date? <3'

'i need your raw strength rq <3'

He looked at the messages in disgust, remembering how they asked him to come over to move furniture for them right before his meetup with you. Though, he knew what to text back this time. 'You can move that furniture yourself. Got no interest in dating you either', he texted back before searching for the block button. But before he pressed it, he got one last message.

'what. WHY??? and how did you know??????'

Blocked.

Feeling like a heavy burden was lifted off his chest, he felt confident enough to see you again. So, he knocked on your door.

"I'll be right there!" The voice he missed so much called out from inside. The door finally opened to reveal you in your casual wear. You gave him a surprised look. "Oh! I didn't expect you to stop by todaaaayy..." You trailed off as you looked at his expression. Macaque just... looked at you in awe. He couldn't believe you were here, in front of him, alive and well. His staring confused you. "Uh... Earth to Mac-Mac, are you there?" You said as you waved your hand in front of his face, bringing him back to reality.

"Oh- Sorry", he responded as he gently pushed your hand away. "I was in the area and just wanted to do a surprise visit." Your mouth formed an 'o' before you stepped aside with a welcoming smile.

"Wanna hang out and watch a show then?"

Gladly taking you up on the offer, the shadow monkey entered your home, taking a deep breath as he appreciated being able to take in your scent again. While he took up his usual spot on the couch, you pulled out some chips from your snack cabinet, accompanied by a bowl. "Sorry, I don't have any plum-flavored snacks at the moment. I hope the basic snacks are good enough", you told him as you filled up the bowl with your chips.

Macaque nodded with a grin, "It's alright. I'm fine with anything you give me."

You blinked at him, surprised. "I thought you were picky about your flavors?"

He let out a small nervous chuckle before replying, "I just had a change of heart, is all. Been trying to test more stuff recently." You hummed before sitting down next to him, leaving some space between you two. This was actually how you two would usually sit. However, the dark-furred simian was craving for your warming touch after having felt the cold of your corpse. He scooted closer to you, but his movements were seemingly undetected as you were busy looking for something to watch on your TV... That was until his thigh made contact with yours.

Confused, your gaze trailed from his thigh to his eyes. He simply stared at you with what looked like a fond smile while his tail positioned itself around your waist, almost like an arm. You raised an eyebrow at him. While you didn't exactly mind the attention your crush-friend was giving you, you did find his sudden change in behavior... strange. After all, he was acting a lot more different last time you hung out with him.

"...Okay, spill it. What happened that makes you act this... affectionate today? Are you the real Six-Eared Macaque? Am I dreaming?"

"If you're dreaming then I'm truly flattered that you would dream about me, sugarplum. Buuut, this isn't a dream", he replied as he crossed his arms. "Am I not allowed to appreciate being here with my favorite mortal?"

You blushed at his words before looking down at your lap in embarrassment... This was the first time he called you sugarplum- Or any pet name in general. "Did you just call me sugarplum?" And considering he loved plums, it just made you question things.

Macaque's tail somewhat stiffened up, indicating he was a little nervous all of a sudden. "Oh- Uh- Do you... not like it? I-I can just call you by your name again if-" "Mac-Mac. I... kinda like it", you cut him off with a shy smile. He returned it with a fanged grin of his own.

"So...", you trailed off as you picked a show you both binged together before. "Anything you got planned for later?"

Well, since he basically cancelled his supposed-to-be date...

He scoffed, "Obviously not. I'd rather spend the evening with you, sugarplum." The shadow monkey started to lean against you, making his tail sneak a little further around your waist. You decided to give into the urge of giving him a sudden hug at his affection. However, you pulled away rather quickly since you knew he wasn't really into people touching him out of nowhere. But before you could fully pull away and apologize, he pulled you right back into his chest, this time with his arms around your frame.

"...Thanks for not leaving me this time", he said softly as he nuzzled your head. You were about to ask what the hell he was talking about, when he added, "...I didn't even get to tell you how much I love you..."

Pause.

Did he... Did the Six-Eared Macaque just confess to you-? Did your crush-friend just return your feelings??

...But why did he sound so sad then?

You turned your head a bit upward to look at his face only to see that he was actually crying, but with a soft smile. Concerned, you placed your hand on his cheek. "Mac-Mac... Are you okay?"

He huffed at the irony of his visit's reasons before wiping away his tears with his sleeve, then placing his own hand on yours. "...Yeah, never been better."

Though, he was not expecting the sudden kiss on the cheek you gave him. Shocked, he stared at you with wide eyes. You pulled away as your own face started to heat up from embarrassment... This one reaction of yours was all the evidence he needed to be sure of how to avoid your Hanahaki. "Eeeeeehhh... S-Sorry- I-I thought it would help like healing a wound-" That's when the demon returned the favor by placing his hand behind your head, pulling you closer before kissing your forehead.

"Well, it did help... And your heartbeat is going crazy right now. I'm guessing the feeling's mutual?" You gave him a bright smile as you nodded. Happy with your response, Macaque wrapped his arms around you once more, this time with you hugging you back.

"I won't make the same mistake again... I love you, sugarplum..."

> Masterlist <

[azurevi]

Resquets are open :D If it's not too much trouble I can get: character death + illness with Sebek

I find your works interesting, I hope to see more in the future🌠✍️💐

Sebek + character death & illness

thank you for the kind words! (｡◝‿◜｡) this was fun (albeit sad) to write, hope you enjoy!

Sebek was racing against the clock.

“Cherish the remaining time” was what the doctors had told him at the hospital, outside the room in which you were kept. It infuriated him that they admitted defeat when there’s still so much time left to make things right, but if they weren’t going to do anything, then he just had to take matters into his own hands.

For weeks now he had been looking for a cure, a solution, a spell- anything that can get rid of the sickness sucking the life out of you. His parents and their friends came up empty-handed, and even Lilia, with his bottomless barrel of experiences, told him that it was useless to keep trying.

“If you have time to read about the disease, why don’t you spend it with the actual patient?”

But it wasn’t just time he was running from, it was his own shame. To stop was to admit that he couldn’t save you, that he was powerless in the face of humans’ fragile mortality. How was he supposed to look you in the eyes, knowing that he failed you?

Ancient books made no mention of similar conditions, and no spell was strong enough that they could destroy a ticking bomb inside a body. Anytime he thought he was on the right track, he ended up drawing a blank. Yet the restlessness in his body didn’t dwindle. If any, it pushed him further. He spent days after days looking for someone or something that could help, regardless of the price, regardless of the distance.

“Where are you, Sebek? They are asking for you. You know there isn’t much time left.” Jack’s calls came every day, a haunting reminder that not a second could be wasted. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you, if the sleepless nights and frequent texts were any indication. In fact, he would teleport right next to you if he could, but he only had one body, and it was more useful to save you than to mourn in advance.

It wasn’t until Malleus personally dragged him back that he finally came to terms with the truth: he never had a chance to begin with. He could try and fight fate, but nothing he did could change it, and by the time he arrived, you were already at the edge of death.

For the past few weeks Sebek had been running from a lot of things, but as he stood in front of the cold, white door, he wondered if he had actually been avoiding you all along.

Clenching the vibrant flowers in one hand, he slid the door open. Whatever shell he had built around him shattered the moment he saw you— attached to beeping machines by various tubes on your arms, body thinned and ravaged by the battle within you. You were alive, but barely.

His throat tightened. He wanted so much to pull all those tubes off of you, to hoist you up in his arms and tell you that everything was going to be fine, but that could only happen in his imagination.

“Sebek,” you raised your hand, and he rushed to hold it. He didn’t notice the tears escaping his eyes until you wiped them away, making him flinch.

“Took you long enough,” you laughed quietly. Your voice no longer bore jokes intended to make him laugh. Its vigor was replaced by weariness.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find anything useful.” He said.

“It’s okay, there wasn’t much hope anyways.”

“Don’t say that!” He held tightly onto your hand. “If I try harder, maybe-”

“I don’t want you to find me a cure, Sebek. I just want you to be by my side before I go.”

“But that’s…” He lowered his head, fighting the urge to tell you about all his wishes and plans for the future, how he had already decided that you would be a part of it. Everything had been laid out in front of him in one perfect path, everything that he had now lost. He still didn’t want to give it up. 

And yet, there was no way he could be free from regret if he didn’t spend the remaining time with you.

He took a deep breath and nodded, leaning against your intertwined hands.

“…Then I will stay right here with you.”

In the remaining hours, he watched the life threaten to fade from your eyes despite your efforts to pocket as much time as you could. It took everything in him to hold back his distress and to talk to you like it was just another normal day. It was only when the beeps of the machines sank into a deafening flatline that he finally let his voice quiver.

“Hey,” He held out hope for one last miracle, one last mercy from the sevens above. Nothing came except for the footsteps down the corridor. His friends burst into the room in a desperate rush before the world finally crumbled around him.

In the end of the day, there was nothing he could do to save you.

[sednonamoris]

teeth

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John never returns from his scouting trip. You, Arthur, and Javier seek him out through the snow.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, animal violence/attack/death (pretty brief), strong language, description of wounds, mild angst, snow storms, gratuitous horse content

Word count: 2,646

A/N: I like to think John made squeaky toy sounds when the wolves tried to eat him :) In all seriousness, though, Enter, Pursued by a Memory is one of my fav missions!! Really hoping I balanced the actual events with Ghost's presence well, but don't anticipate a rehash of every single mission like this. We had to establish a major plot point for John, but the rest of the story will mostly have the feeling of stranger missions as we see what Ghost got up to during the timeline of the game. My hope is to only 'redo' a handful of the really major missions - after all, RDR2 is Arthur's story!

Series masterlist • AO3

—

John is missing. 

He’s a grown man and he can handle himself and he was sent out to scout and surely he can follow your tracks here but it’s been days now and he’s missing. No one else seems to have noticed but Abigail. Maybe because the two of you are the only ones fool enough to care.

Everyone else is too focused on their own survival here at the frostbitten end of civilization. Colter, as someone recalls its name to be, is just as beat to hell as the entire camp feels. Its remaining walls provide shelter, but only just. The few threadbare blankets that made the journey aren’t enough to keep everyone warm, and the handful of cans of salted offal Pearson snagged for the journey are hardly food enough to keep everyone fed. The wagons are stuck until the spring melt begins, and it’s looking less and less like you’ll all make it ‘til then - already you’ve buried Jenny and Davey. You swear you won’t bury John, too, much less mourn an empty, snowbound grave, so on the second day you give in to your restlessness.

“I’m goin’ out looking,” you tell Abigail with a grim shake of your head. “He’s run off before, but… not like this.” 

“Thank you, Ghost,” she clasps your hands, and you hesitate only a heartbeat before squeezing back. “I’m— I knew you would understand.”

“Sure,” you try to offer a reassuring smile before heading out to tack your new mount.

Moonshine was Davey’s stud. He’s a stunning blue roan color with a powerful, compact build. He’s always been tough to handle, as wild and savage as his rider, but since Davey passed he’s been especially mean. That’s how you landed him; out of everyone in the gang, you’ve got the keenest horse sense. Already he’s bitten Charles in the short time he’s spent tending the mounts while his hand heals. Ever since, you’re the only one allowed to handle him. And still he’s a menace.

True to form, he pins his ears when you approach with the saddle and lifts a hind leg in warning. 

“Enough of that,” you chastise. 

“Sure that’s enough horse for you?” Arthur’s voice sounds from behind. 

You turn to face him and raise a brow when you see he’s got his own tack at the ready. The big painted bay he took from the Adler’s barn snorts softly. 

He shakes his head. “I still say Marston’s run off again, but Abigail asked me ‘n Javier to come with.” 

“Hosea’s worried, too,” Javier chimes in. He flashes an encouraging smile over Boaz’s back that offsets the sour look on Arthur’s face. 

You mount up and tilt your head towards the wilderness. “Let’s ride, then.”

—

Javier picks up the trail first, a set of hoofprints just past the stream that heads up further into the mountains. There’s an abandoned camp there still smoking, only a few hours old by Arthur’s reckoning. The embers in the fire have gone cold with the freeze, but you allow them to light a spark of hope in your chest all the same. 

John is alive out here somewhere. He has to be. 

The going is slow through snowdrifts and steep inclines, but the horses take on the challenge gamely - except Moonshine, who squeals and kicks out when Arthur rides up too close behind you. A quick spur forward redirects the stallion’s outburst. He prances and arches his neck before settling once more, and you pat his neck with murmured praise. 

“Jesus, that thing’s mean,” Arthur says.

“So is Ghost,” Javier teases. His eyes glint with mischief when he looks back at you, and you scoff a tired laugh. 

“So was Davey,” you say. “Still hard to believe that bastard’s gone. Everything happened so fast.”

“What did happen?” Arthur presses. 

You glance up at Javier, who lets out a breath. “We had the money, everything seemed fine, then suddenly they were everywhere.”

“Bounty hunters?”

You shake your head and grimace. “Pinkertons.”

“It was crazy,” Javier says. “Raining bullets.” 

As you climb the winding mountain path he explains how Dutch killed a hostage - a young girl, he says, in a bad way. You think about the blood on Dutch’s face as he dragged John to shore. The cold look there. Determination, not regret. You think about the feeling of a body going limp in your arms so many years ago. The eardrum that still doesn’t hear as well bursting with her head at the gunshot. The guilt you waited to feel that never came. 

“Bad business,” Arthur says with a weary sigh. 

You stay silent, staring past the falling snow. Bad business, alright. 

There’s little time to dwell on it as the storm picks up. Javier leads everyone higher and higher into these cursed mountains. A wolf cries in the distance. The sound rakes a chill down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. As snow starts coming down thicker you urge the horses to pick up the pace. In weather like this it won’t take much to lose the trail. You brace against the wind, tugging your coat closer around your shoulders. It does little to keep the biting cold at bay, but it’s better than nothing. This high up the wind is even worse, and the path only gets narrower.

Soon the horses begin to flag. You pat Moonshine’s neck and the palm of your glove comes away damp. He’s steaming with exertion. It won’t take much for him or the others to catch cold this way. 

“Tough going,” you say. Your voice is laced with the worry you’re trying so hard to keep in check. 

“Lots of fresh snow,” Javier agrees. “I don’t see the tracks anymore.”

“We can’t follow nothin’,” Arthur says, and your hackles raise. He and John haven’t gotten along for years, but his reluctance still rankles. 

You turn in your saddle and open your mouth to snap at him when Javier makes the decision for you all that it’s worth pushing just a bit more. The trail could pick up again. John could be close. 

Arthur sighs, but without another word you dig in for the climb. 

A dark shape in the snow not too far ahead has your heart in your throat. When you canter up to it, vultures take off. You’re about to send up a prayer that it isn’t John when you realize it’s not a person at all, but a horse.

Dead in the snow. 

“Missy,” you say, but they both know. 

John’s faithful red mare lies frozen, petrified with death and cold. Something other than vultures has started to eat her as well, belly ripped open and guts strewn. The snow around her is stained red. You turn away with a sigh. 

“Oh… that’s…” Arthur trails off. You pointedly ignore his glance towards you, laden with sympathy. 

“John could be close,” Javier reasons, and raises his pistol above his head to fire off a single shot. 

The sound cracks and echoes off snowy peaks. You swear you stop breathing when you hear a faint cry for help from a scratchy voice you know better than your own.

“Hey! Help! Here!”

You canter a little further up the path, but all too soon it narrows enough that taking the horses further isn’t an option. The three of you dismount and ground tie your mounts before continuing the journey on foot. 

Arthur clutches his shotgun a little tighter as you climb. Your rifle is thrown over your shoulder, just in case, and even Javier loosens his revolver in its holster. Anything could be waiting for you; these mountains are not made for kindness. 

Crouching beneath stone and scrambling up rock shelves you make your way towards the sound of John’s desperate pleas. He seems scared. A stab of fear pierces your own heart for him. 

A narrow walled pass allows brief respite from the wind, and you all pause for a moment to breathe. Javier passes his flask around, and you let the whiskey sting warmth into you as it goes down. When you emerge on the other side the storm seems even worse. 

“John!” you shout over the wind. “Hold on, we’re almost there!” 

“I’m here! Out on the ledge!” he calls back. His voice sounds closer than ever, hoarse and desperate but alive.

“There,” Javier points, then raises his voice for John’s benefit. “We’re coming!”

You sprint through snowdrifts to the edge of the dropoff. 

“I’m here!”

When you reach the ledge and look down to see him you curse under your breath. He looks… bad. Some predator got to him - wolves, if you know anything. Tore up his leg and made a mess of his face. The entire right side has been slashed through, nose, cheek, and mouth. He’s lost plenty of blood. The remaining skin is red and inflamed, like it’s infected already. He’s lucky it didn’t catch his eye. He’s lucky to be alive.

“Jesus, John,” you finally say, because you can’t think of anything else. “They chew you up and spit you out? Can’t taste that bad.”

“Nice to see you too, Ghost.” He tries to smile but only winces in pain. The relief in his voice could make you cry. 

 “That’s quite a scratch you got there,” Arthur observes when he catches up only a moment later.

Despite his heckling he’s quick to jump down and hoist John up to you. Javier helps pull him upright and he sags between the both of you. 

“Never thought I’d say this, but… it’s good to see you, Arthur Morgan.” 

You want to squeeze tight and never let him go, but he’s hurt, and even moving him from leaning on your shoulders to thrown over Arthur’s is enough to make him groan. 

“You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel too good neither.”

“Hang in there, compadre.”

It isn’t a long trek back to the horses, but it certainly feels that way. You have to keep reminding yourself not to hover. All that pent up worry and fear has nowhere to go now that John is safe with you. Maybe a good cry later will get it out of your system, but for you just have to worry about making it back to camp.

Javier notices your hypervigilance and offers a smile. “Tranquilo, my friend. Not much farther now.”

You try to smile back at him, but your expression drops when you spy movement over his shoulder. Wolves. On the ridge ahead. Three of them. Their coats are mangy and they look thin, which scares you a hell of a lot more than it would otherwise; they must be as desperate as you are. A bone-chilling howl looses from the throat of their leader when its yellow eyes meet yours.

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck. Goddamnit. Arthur, you and Javier get John to the horses.”

“No,” he puts John down and shoves him into your arms. “You take him. I’ll hold them off.”

You have no choice but to nod your thanks and hobble as quick as you can to where the horses stand spooking. Moonshine’s eyes roll back at the wolves as they stalk toward Arthur, growling. He dances in place, but stands still long enough for Javier to help you hoist John behind your saddle, even when Arthur starts shooting. Two gunshots ring crisp and clear, and you wait for the third but hear a cry of pain instead. You whip your head over to Arthur and see one of the wolves has him by the forearm. Without thinking, you grab your rifle from your back and take aim. On the exhale you squeeze the trigger, and with a yelp the wolf falls to the ground.

Arthur looks up at you, eyes wide with shock and thanks, before running to meet you and scramble onto his horse.

“Nice shot,” he pants.

“Any time,” you tip your hat. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

You spur the horses down the mountain and don’t look back.

—

Apart from the initial excitement, it’s a quiet ride into camp. John is in rough shape, but his grip at your waist never falters. It takes three people to get him off the horse once you make it back, and even with the extra hands they catch his bad leg at an awkward angle. You flinch when he cries out. 

“Careful, idiotas!” Javier scolds.

Hosea steps out to thank the three of you for a successful rescue, but you don’t stay to talk. Arthur can handle that. Instead you linger in the doorway, watching Abigail fret over John. Besides dressing his wounds he needs to get warm, so you pull yourself out of your stupor enough to close the door. Just before you turn away he catches your eye and mouths a thank you. You manage a sad smile and leave them be. 

For the rest of the day you make yourself scarce, cooling the horses out and chopping firewood and even lending Pearson a hand with the stew. Only once night has fallen and everyone else is long asleep do you allow yourself to sneak back into the cabin to see John.

It’s easier than you’d feared to tiptoe around everyone’s sleeping forms and into the empty chair at his bedside. The hard part is ignoring the pang of guilt that comes when you spy Abigail’s beautiful, moonlit face asleep without that pinch of worry between her brows you’re so accustomed to seeing. Jack is snuggled in just as peaceful at her side. A family. John’s family.

But when you reach him, everything else fades away.

They did a good job cleaning him up, given the circumstances. Thick strips of cloth bandage wrap half of his face, even the eye. The other half has been sponged clean so the blood and grime is no longer caked frozen on his skin. His hair is still unwashed and limp, but no longer matted to his face. They even wrangled him out of his shredded clothes and into some of the few spares lying around. 

He’s dead asleep. The exhaustion must have finally hit once the adrenaline and fear faded away. You settle into the chair at his bedside and just watch him sleep. Each steady rise and fall of his chest reassures you that he’s alive. That he’ll stay that way.

Before you realize what’s happening tears begin to wet your cheeks. You sniffle quietly to muffle the sound but can’t stop. He could have died up there. All alone on that mountaintop with only the snarl of wolves and the snap of their teeth to send him to the other side. This life you lead is dangerous, always, but you haven’t had to look mortality in the face in a long time. It stares at you with an open maw and hungry yellow eyes through John’s torn flesh, and you shudder in spite of the fire. 

It should make you want to confess. To lay your heart out and speak the love that’s laden your tongue for years uncounting - before it’s too late. But when you glance over at Abigail you can’t bring yourself to say a word. Instead you grasp John’s hands as gently as you can and raise them to your chapped lips.

You press a soft kiss there where your hands are joined and smile down on him past the heartbreak. When you go to leave he closes his fingers around your wrists. You stop dead in your tracks.

“Knew you’d come for me,” he rasps. His unbandaged eye opens blearily and shines up at you. You squeeze his hands back. 

“Of course,” you say. Whether he means the mountain or this room tonight, it doesn’t matter. The answer is the same. “Always.” 

Still, you leave before he can convince you to stay.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

I’m linking this fic (Steve/Eddie) again because I’m considering writing another part from Steve’s perspective, very heavily inspired by Billie Holliday’s I’ll Be Seeing You.

Sometimes I get hung up on the idea of Steve not properly mourning Billy’s death, and how bits and pieces of his grief start to show in his everyday life after the fact, specifically with things he used to enjoy.

Here’s a snippet of the fic linked above in case you haven’t come across it yet (most of the inspiration for this was Eddie needing a nickname for Steve that wasn’t pretty boy, because that will forever and always be Billy’s thing):

-

“Thought you said it was your favorite place in the house.”

Steve hums a laugh that sounds a little too soft.

“It is. It really is, I…” he trails off. Eyes wandering over every relic in front of him before he sighs. “I used to sleep in here more than I did in my own bed.”

“It does seem like an excellent place to take a nap, I’ll give you that.”

“Mm.”

A silence settles between them. It feels strangely… light. In fact, this might be the first time that Eddie has felt like his presence isn’t detested. He relaxes in his seat. Slouches a bit and tilts his head back against the top of the futon, smiling when Steve appears to do the same.

“This would be a killer spot to have a campaign in.”

“You trying to bring all of the brats in here and host one of your silly games, Munson?” Steve teases.

“Nah.” Eddie glances over at Steve. Finds that he’s still wearing that pleased little grin on his face. “That’s Henderson’s job now.”

“And he likes hosting outside, usually, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, and it’s so impractical. The kid prioritizes aesthetic over practicality, you have no idea how many times our shit has gotten blown everywhere.”

Steve chuckles, and it brings a warmth to Eddie’s cheeks.

“I’ve gotten an earful about that from Lucas before.”

“Oh, god, Sinclair ,” Eddie groans, slapping a hand over his face. “Those two bicker like an old married couple.”

“Mhm, I’ve gotten an earful of that too. More than once.”

They share a laugh. Eddie can’t help but notice how close their thighs are to touching right now. He lifts his head when Steve closes the short distance. Bumps their knees together and hums contentedly when Eddie doesn’t pull away.

A million things flood his mind in an instant. A good portion of them are things that he wants to say, and even more of them are things he wants to do .

Things like ask Steve why he decided to show him this secret little corner out of the blue after months of standoffish behavior.

Things like lean over and press a kiss to that pretty smile.

“Thanks for, y’know, hanging out with me, Edd,” Steve says softly.

That catches Eddie off guard.

“Oh, um, sure. Anytime.”

“Our movie nights have been one of my favorite things recently. It’s stupid, but I always look forward to it every week like I’m going to Disneyland or something.”

Steve chuckles again, and Eddie holds his breath for a beat when he shifts closer until their shoulders are touching.

“They’re one of my favorites too,” Eddie confesses.

The words feel like they come out slow and stupid, but that gentle laugh fills the air between them again, and Eddie can’t bring himself to care. All of his focus is on Steve’s face. So close that he can see the flecks of gold in his irises.

“Well, I’d hope so. I always try to pick stuff that I think you’ll like.”

“So you rented Frankenweenie? Seriously?”

Steve snorts, and Eddie chuckles. Chews his lip when Steve slouches further against him and stares at where his hand lies in his lap, palm upturned.

Just another thing that Eddie isn’t advised to touch.

“In my defense, I probably thought we could watch it and make fun of it.”

“So why didn’t we?”

Another short silence falls. Steve looks away, shrugging nonchalantly, but his eyes are suddenly glassy.

“Guess I just didn’t feel like it. Not today.”

There’s a strange finality to his words. Eddie racks his brain for a moment, furrowing his brows because he can’t think of why today could be anything significant.

It’s Saturday. Nothing special about that. No events come to mind when he thinks of late March, so he elects to sit on it rather than say anything. In the silence, Steve’s hand starts to look more and more appealing, but he tells himself that it’s a bad idea.

“Is there anything that you do feel like doing?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve turns to him once more. Glances down at his lips briefly before he shrugs again and exhales a sigh.

“I’m fine just talking to you, if that’s okay.”

The tenderness in his voice has an embarrassing amount of heat spreading up Eddie’s neck.

There have been plenty of occasions where he’s wanted to kiss Steve Harrington – the time he was a sore loser when he lost at bowling, and when he scared the shit out of Troy Walsh for defacing the Hellfire posters that Will spent a whole week making, just to name a couple – but none so much as he does right now.

Some lovesick, less logical part of his brain tells him that maybe Steve is thinking something similar right now. His eyes stay steadily trained on Eddie’s lips and his face seems closer than it was before. That has to be something, right? He isn’t going crazy?

He apparently isn’t because Steve’s eyes close after another second and the air in Eddie’s lungs shrinks.

“It’s more than okay, pretty boy,” he coos.

And maybe it’s fate that just as he begins to tilt his chin forward, Steve leans away. That there’s suddenly a space between them again.

Eddie instantly wants to backpedal, to ask what he did wrong, or maybe assure Steve that he wasn’t actually going to make a move, though it would be a lie.

His mind is wiped clean when a gentle sob soaks the air.

-

I’ll find you

In the morning sun

And when the night is new

I’ll be looking at the moon

But I’ll be seeing you

[afterthegreatunknown]

Randomity: A Sapphire Fortune Worthy Question

“Hey, Quigley! We finally got the DVD player to work! You want to watch—you’re still working on your homework?” Duncan enters their bedroom, keeping a short but still reasonable distance.

Quigley, sitting at the study desk, has his hands together in its tent-like position. “I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Isadora skips into the room, and joins Duncan’s side. She then takes notice of the math book on the study desk. “Are you thinking what’s the greater than and less than symbols? Again, the less than symbol is the left hand, and greater than is the right hand.”

“I’m not thinking about linear inequalities, but thanks for the reminder.” Quigley sighs, and drops his hands. He then spins in his chair to face them. “I’m thinking about Hector. It’s been one year since we escaped that creature. A year of us living together. I thought a year could change things, but it didn’t. Or maybe things did change, but I’m blind. Because I swear, I get the feeling Hector doesn’t like me. Or he does, but doesn’t make the attempt to know me better.”

“…And where did you get that impression?” Duncan slowly turns his head towards Isadora, who is repeating the same action. Both of them stare at each other with a puzzle expression.

Quigley gives out a hum, and twirls a lock of his hair. “This morning. We were eating breakfast, talking about my Earth-Space project of the Solar System, and then a dead silence came over us. Neither of us talk again until you two came in, asking us about which toothpaste to use.”

Duncan and Isadora turn their direction back to Quigley. “That’s funny for you to think Hector doesn’t like you,” they say in unison, “because Hector thinks you don’t like him.”

Quigley quickly narrows his eyes, and stands up. “Where did he get that impression!? How could I not like the man! He willingly decided to stay and raise us after we escaped that creature! A man we barely knew continued to stuck by us! He thought we’re worth it all! Even everything that happened in in that vile village, after what he let happened to Jacques—”

“And there it is!” Duncan sighs as he lowers his head, and runs a hand through his hair. “We said it before, and we’ll say it again. Isadora and I do agree that what happened to Jacques Snicket was wrong. He got murdered for crimes that weren’t his own, and he never got to defend himself. And while we don’t like his methods, the man took care of you. He was in a way, your guardian. We understand why you’re still mourning him, even a year later.”

“And Hector freezing up was terrible,” continues Isadora, walking her way to Quigley himself. “Terrible, yet understandable. You don’t know how vile that village truly is, Quigley. You really don’t. They didn’t know us, yet still wanted our heads off and dead the second they saw us.”

“Please, understand that Hector’s freezing up didn’t kill Jacques Snicket,” says Duncan calmly.

“Anything Hector could have said or done wouldn’t change it.” Isadora then places a hand on Quigley’s shoulder. “The subconscious grudge you have on Hector, it’s time to let it go.”

---

Quigley continues to observe Hector drying and putting the dishes away. The man is whistling a tune he never heard of, but it’s remarkably catchy. Quigley keeps his hands in his pockets, and walks further into the kitchen. He stands beside Hector quietly, and then clear his throat.

“That’s a really catchy tune you’re whistling. Great whistling, in fact,” says Quigley, moving his hands out of his pockets, and start swinging them around. “What it is exactly?”

Hector stops drying the bowl he’s currently holding. “Thank you. I’m whistling La Llorona, the weeping woman. It’s one of my favorite songs. First heard it in my childhood.”

“Oh? That’s interesting.” Quigley tilts his head to the right. “What’s La Llorona about?”

Hector soon places the bowl into the cabinet shelf, and then leans back against the counter, folding the towel into a little square. “The legend is of a young woman who marries, and upon seeing her husband with his new lover, drowns her two children in a rage.”

“…I’m sorry, she did what?”

“Drowns her two children in a rage.” Hector says it all so casually. “Depending on what variation you heard, she had reasons to fear her husband will want to take her children when they separate, and drowns them so they won’t raise by the other woman. Either way, the woman eventually drowns herself in grief due to committing murder. Instead of passing on, she is force to roam the earth until she finds her children again.”

“That’s morbid as hell.” Quigley shakes his head, and shudders from the horror he just heard.

“If this helps you feel less disturb, the song has little in common with the legend,” says Hector. “The song is about a singer who is in my opinion, misses his love terribly so. The suffering and grief are akin of the weeping woman’s own pain by her terrible lover.”

“Ah.” Quigley slowly nods his head. “Less morbid. But still, who makes a kid listen to this?”

“My papa. Whenever I didn’t go to school and got the chance to hang out with him, he would sing La Llorona.” Hector places the towel down beside himself, and sighs. “It’s a very fond memory I have of him, in fact. I suppose you have a memory of someone you miss too.”

“Yeah,” answers Quigley, smiling and sticking his hands back into his pocket. “I do. Several people, in fact. I always think of those memories when I feel their absent is greater than usual.”

Quigley soon turns on his heels and begins walking away. He stops though, when he reaches the door. “You know, I know how to whistle, but not a tune. Well, not properly at least. But my mom —and Jacques— could. Would it be alright if you could teach me, in your spare time?”

“…Yes. I would. I should warn you, I’m not good whistling a tune too. I can only do so for a few songs.” Hector soon gives out a sudden chuckle. “Someone I knew took pity on me and gave me lessons, though I think he wanted an excuse to make a whistling band of sorts.”

“Snrk…ha-ha!” Quigley couldn’t help but chuckle also, before he continues on walking.

[made-ofmemories]

When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 13/18)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: The aftermath of chapter 11 continues, mention of/ description of injuries, angst, quite a lot of Steddie in this one possibly the most we’ve had so far, Dustin features in this one a lot too.

Word count: 3904

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: Apologies for the delay on this one! AO3 going down yesterday as well as a few other factors meant we had to push the posting of this one back a little.

Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series masterlist

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie gets discharged from the hospital 2 days later. Steve is there when they get the news in the early morning, he’d agreed to stay overnight and keep an eye on Eddie as well as Max. Wayne had suspected she wouldn’t be leaving his side anytime soon and so far he seemed to be correct. Eddie had insisted he didn’t need a round-the-clock babysitter, but one look at Steve with that kicked puppy expression and a stern glare from Max was all it had taken to change his mind. 

“You’re kidding right?” Eddie asks with his eyebrows raised so high they’re lost under his bangs as he stares at the wheelchair Steve has just wheeled into the room. 

Max is sitting on one of the chairs next to Eddie, trying to stifle a laugh at Eddie’s offended expression despite the eye roll she’d given to his protesting. He’d only left to call Wayne, his shift would be ending soon and Eddie hadn’t left room for much negotiation when he’d decided it’d be pointless for him to drive all the way out there when they could just meet him back at the trailer. 

“Don’t blame me.” Steve says with a sigh, he knows when he’s fighting a losing battle so it seems, “It’s just until you get out of here. The nurse insisted, hospital policy.”

“Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’ as he throws back the covers that are over the lower half of his body and swings his legs out of the bed, “Last I checked there wasn’t anything wrong with my legs.”

“Whatever, man.” Steve resigns, watching as Eddie stands on shaky legs, gripping the back of Max’s chair whilst he regains his balance. He hasn’t really been on his feet much the past few days, much less without the support of someone else by his side, “But if you fall and get yourself re-admitted I’m leaving you here.” He’s not. All 3 of them know he’s not going anywhere.

There’s a black duffle bag stuffed with whatever of Eddie’s belongings Wayne had been able to find in their trailer, including a set of clean clothes. Max leaves whilst he gets changed. Steve stays, helping him wriggle the shirt over his head since he’s still struggling with lifting his arms. Eddie thanks him and Steve gives him a bright smile in return, “What’re friends for, right?”

Steve goes ahead once they’ve left the room, heading over to the nurse's station and leaving Eddie and Max to trail behind. He seems to know what he’s doing so Eddie lets him get on with whatever it is he’s up to.

“Don’t.” Is all he says to Max before she can say anything when he notices the mischievous expression on her face, that kid doesn’t miss a thing and Eddie is more than aware of his cheeks glowing a rather bright shade of pink. 

“I didn’t even do anything!” She scoffs indignantly.

“Mhm.” Eddie hums in response, unconvinced.

Steve returns before the bickering progresses any further, “Good to go.” He says as he hands over some paperwork and a paper bag of medication that Eddie doesn’t bother to look at before stuffing it into his pocket. 

Wayne and Susan are waiting for them, seated at the bench outside of the Munson trailer and sharing a cigarette when Steve’s car pulls up. Susan heads straight to Max, brushing back a few stray hairs on Max’s forehead, Max bats her hand away complaining about the fussing. They’ve barely seen each other since Eddie was admitted to the hospital and he leaves them to catch up.

Eddie winces when he drags himself out of the car and heads for the trailer with a slight limp. His legs may not have been injured but everything else hurts and the bumpy journey along the road into the trailer park hadn’t made the situation any better. He brushes off Steve’s offer of help with a wave of his hand.

“How’re you feeling?” Wayne asks, he’s joined Steve and is hovering by worriedly as Eddie makes his way towards the front door. They both look as if they’re expecting him to drop to the floor at a moment's notice and visibly relax once he’s finally seated.

“Peachy.” He says with a tight-lipped sarcastic smile as he sinks into the couch cushions.

“I promised to pick Robin up, so I gotta go.” Steve explains, setting down the bag he’d carried from the car, “I’ll come by later with Dustin if you’re feeling up to it?” He asks. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie agrees, it comes across a little more clipped than he’d like. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Dustin, he loved Dustin’s bad jokes and infectious laughter and he had spent almost as much time at the hospital as Steve and Max. But, Eddie can feel the beginning of a headache starting to settle in, he’s hungry, and his ribs ache. 

“Are you comfortable there? Need more pillows?” Wayne asks, fluffing up a cushion before motioning for Eddie to lean forward and placing it behind him.

“I’m alright, Wayne. Stop fussing so much.”

“You might be a legal adult, but don’t you forget that I’ll never stop fussing and worrying about you.” Wayne ruffles Eddie’s hair, looking at him with fondness, “That Harrington boy isn’t what I expected.”

“He isn’t what I expected either.” Eddie says, blaming the soft expression he knows has taken over his face without his permission on the painkillers they gave him before leaving the hospital, they’re clearly not doing anything for the pain so they must be doing something, right?

“I can only hope you’ll treat him better when he comes back. Don’t scare him away, he’s a nice boy.”

“Nice? That’s the best you can come up with?” Eddie teases, letting his head loll back against the couch cushions. He can hear Susan and Max in the kitchen and wonders vaguely when they ventured in from outside.

Wayne shrugs, “Nicer than Chad for sure.”

“You still remember that?” Eddie groans. 

He’d been barely 15 when Wayne had come home early from work and caught them making out in the living room. Eddie had thought that he was about to get kicked out for sure, but Wayne hadn’t made a big deal of it and after a somewhat uncomfortable conversation, assured him it was going to take a lot more than liking boys for Wayne to want to get rid of him. 

“I like this one better.” Wayne shrugs, one corner of his lips twitching up into a hint of a smile as he clasps Eddie’s shoulder with one hand and squeezes gently, still cautious of his injuries. 

“Me too,” Eddie says, smiling bashfully and twirling a lock of hair around his finger. He feels like a schoolgirl with a crush, but he can’t help it. 

“‘Me too.’ Maybe you should tell Steve that.” Max quips, arms crossed as she looks between Wayne and Eddie. “I know! You could write him a song to let him know just how nice you think he is.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm as her features morph into an over-exaggerated expression.

“How long have you been standing there?” Eddie asks, wide-eyed and trying to figure out exactly what she heard.

“Long enough.” She answers with a shit-eating grin.

“Max, could you get one of our folding tables? I don’t think Eddie should be straining himself to reach the coffee table.” Susan calls from the kitchen.

“Sure, mom.” Max leaves the trailer for a moment, returning with the folding table and placing it in front of Eddie.

“Okay, kids. Don’t get too excited, it’s from a can.” Susan says carrying two steaming bowls of soup to the living room. “Welcome home, Eddie.” She says warmly, placing his bowl on the small table before taking a seat next to Wayne.

She’s been doing better lately, in part thanks to the weekly AA meetings she’s been attending, accompanied by Wayne once she’d mentioned not wanting to go alone. The two of them had grown closer over the past few weeks, a shared cup of coffee in the kitchen, a chat on the porch over a shared cigarette. Eddie had noticed, Max too.

“I let Hopper know that we’ll be down by the station tomorrow morning to file the complaint,” Wayne mentions once Eddie is a few spoonfuls through his soup. The chief had already driven by the hospital the day prior to take some evidence photographs before the swelling on Eddie’s face went down too much.

“Okay… Do you still think that’s what we should do?”He knows he has agreed to do it back in the hospital, but he still has his reservations about going through with it.

“Yes, we talked about it,” Wayne says, giving Eddie a stern look.

“I know, I know.” Eddie lets out a sigh, “Tomorrow.” 

“I’ll go with you.” Max chimes in.

“Max, I’m not so sure that-” 

“Mom, I’m a witness. I saw it all.”

“You’ve already missed so much school.”

“Exactly, one more day won’t make a difference.”

“Wayne?” Susan questions, looking for some backup, she knows she’s never going to win this argument alone.

“I think she’s made up her mind already.” Wayne says gently, “Don’t worry, Susan. I’ll take care of her.” Susan sighs in resignation.

Susan collects their dishes once they’re done eating and heads to the kitchen joined by Wayne. No matter how hard he tries Eddie can’t make out their hushed conversation over the sound of running water and clattering dishes as they wash up. 

“So,” Max starts and Eddie turns his attention from his attempted eavesdropping to the redhead sitting next to him, “Who’s Chad?” She asks with an amused smirk.

“We are not discussing that.”

“Why not? Does Steve have competition?” She fires back complete with an exaggerated gasp.

“I don’t let you hang around here all day so I can be bullied by a twelve-year-old, y’know?”

“Fifteen.” She corrects. He knows how old she is, but the affronted look on her face whenever he purposefully gets it wrong never gets old, “And stop deflecting.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighs, “Chad was a long time ago, and as it turns out, a douchebag.”

“You didn’t see that one coming?” Max snorts, “I mean, Chad, really?”

“Yeah,” He laughs then immediately regrets it when the pain in his ribs worsens, “Maybe you have a point.”

“What’re you kids laughing about?” Susan asks, a smile on her face as she approaches. 

“It’s a long story,” Max says and Susan accepts it without question.

“I’m heading home, I’ll be by tomorrow.” She explains before they take turns saying their goodbyes. Wayne is next, announcing that he needs to go get some sleep before his shift later.

“If you need anything-” 

“I know, Wayne.” Eddie repeats for what feels like the hundredth time, “I’ll wake you if I need anything, will you go get some sleep now?”

Eddie spends most of the day on the couch drifting in and out of sleep, Max had brought over a few comic books from her trailer for him to read, but currently, their attention is glued to the tv and they’re both fighting to keep their eyes open when they hear the knock on the door.

“I got it,” Max says, jolting herself out of her half-asleep state as she jumps up to get the door. She returns with Steve and Dustin following close behind and Eddie’s face lights up at the sight of Steve’s awkward little half-wave and Dustin’s bright toothy grin.

“We brought snacks,” Dustin announces, holding up a brown paper bag packed with junk food for Eddie to see.

“And entertainment,” Steve adds, copying Dustin’s gesture and holding up the short stack of board games, “It’s not DnD, but it’s the best we could do.”

Dustin and Max are crowded around the coffee table, bickering between themselves as they set up the first game when Wayne emerges from his room wearing his work clothes. He offers Steve a quiet greeting followed by a pointed look at Eddie which Eddie returns with one of his own. 

“You sure you’re gonna be ok?” Wayne asks before he leaves.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” Eddie assures, “Stevie here is almost as good at being a nurse as he is a babysitter.”

Steve doesn’t miss a beat, “Excuse you!? I’m an excellent nurse and babysitter.” He replies, feigning offense. 

“If you claim to be so good then maybe you should sign up for nursing school, Steve.” Dustin says looking up at him from his place on the floor by the coffee table where he emptied the paper bag with the snacks and is now setting up some of the board game pieces, “You did act like a real pro before the ambulance arrived.”

“I think there’s a community college with a good program not far from Hawkins,” Max mentions as she sits cross-legged on the floor across from Dustin.

“Alright, let’s finish setting this up before you little shits start planning my future,” Steve interjects, moving from his spot on the couch next to Eddie to kneel next to the half-set-up board game on the coffee table.

Wayne, apparently convinced that Eddie will be alright, leaves them to it and Eddie notices him slip out the front door from the corner of his eye.

They make it through 2 out of the 5 board games Steve and Dustin had brought along before growing bored, at which point their attention turns to the tv which had been running quietly in the background whilst they played. 

Max is the first to fall asleep which is unsurprising, she’d spent the last 3 days in the hospital with Eddie and whatever uncomfortable, fitful sleep she had managed to get wasn’t enough. She’s curled up in the armchair she’s come to claim as her own. Dustin has chosen to stay on the floor and is using the bottom of Max’s chair to prop himself up, he falls asleep shortly after she does. 

“You can sleep in my room if you want,” Eddie says when he notices Steve’s eyelids drooping more and more with each passing second. His voice is barely above a whisper to avoid waking Dustin and Max. Steve had gotten up to turn the TV off a few moments ago, there was nothing good on anyway, “I’m just going to stay out here tonight.”

“Me too,” Steve says, slotting his legs on the couch next to Eddies so they’re laying side by side. It’s a tight squeeze, the small couch isn’t exactly designed for 2 fully grown young adults, but it works, “Promised Wayne I’d keep an eye on you.” He adds as an explanation. 

They both settle down, sharing the blanket that had been wrapped around Eddie’s legs and torso, but Eddie's mind keeps drifting back to his conversation with Wayne.

“Hey, you still awake?” He asks and Steve’s head pops up from the other end of the couch.

“Yeah, everything ok?”

“Um- yeah, I just wanted to say thank you.” Eddie says and Steve’s expression softens from worry into fondness, “For everything.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. Steve had saved his life, possibly Max’s too. He had stayed by their sides throughout the whole ordeal, making sure Eddie took his meds, that they were both fed, and that Max remembered to go get some fresh air, a mere thank you seems like nothing in comparison. 

“Anytime,” Steve replies, “Now get some sleep, Eds.”

Eddie listens this time, settling back down at his end of the couch with Steve’s legs pressed against his own, the only sound filling the room is Dustin’s quiet snores and an occasional sleepy mumble from Max. 

---------------

The morning light brings for Eddie the reality of what’s about to happen, what he is about to do. 

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. Not ready yet to face the day, he knows what he has to do, in theory. Hopper walked him through the process the day he took the pictures and promised that he’ll do it again as he fills the form at the precinct.

He’s not as anxious as he probably would be if he was alone in his room. The knowledge that his uncle came back safe and sound from work about an hour ago and is resting in his room, the sound of Dustin’s quiet snores, Max’s deep breathing, and the feeling of his legs tangled with Steve’s grounding him. Their presence, calming.

He knows he should try to go back to sleep, get a few more hours of rest before they have to leave, but the thoughts going around his head won’t shut up long enough for him to actually be lulled back to sleep.

“Are you okay?” He’s startled by Steve’s sleepy, quiet voice coming from the other side of the couch.

“Yeah, yeah, peachy. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been shifting a lot and your breathing changed. I thought that maybe your sides were hurting or you had a nightmare.” Steve says as if those are totally normal things to notice, as if literally anyone else would have picked up on those things let alone paid them enough attention to realize something might be wrong.

“I’m fine,” Eddie reassures him,” just, just can’t go back to sleep. Can’t stop thinking about the complaint.” 

“Hey,” Steve nudges him slightly with one of his legs, “It’ll be fine. You’ll see, in no time you’ll have a restraining order and Carver behind bars if he ever breaches it. And if that’s not enough, remember that we all know how to get rid of monsters, I don’t think that self-righteous asshole would put up much of a fight.”

“What’s this!? Golden boy Harrington willing to defend my honor?” Eddie says, half joking in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“If necessary.” Shit, he’s serious.

“You, you would really go to that extreme?”

“To keep you safe? Of course.” Eddie is stunned into silence by the earnest delivery of Steve’s words.

“You realize Steve’s won like one fight in his entire life right?” It’s Dustin, they’d both assumed he was still asleep, neither noticing when the snores had stopped. 

“I– that- that’s not true.” Steve stammers, his face twisting into a frown as he shifts so he can look at Dustin.

“Alright, name 2, and Demogorgons don’t count.”

“What?! How do Demogorgons not count?!” Steve replies, his voice raising of its own accord, but thankfully not enough to wake Max.

“Because Demogorgons don’t fist fight.”

“Exactly! How is beating a Demogorgon less impressive than beating a person?”

“I don’t know Steve, why don’t you explain how you can face off with a pack of Demodogs and survive but you can’t beat Jonathan Byers in a fight?”

“As entertaining as this is,” Eddie interjects, amusement written across his features, “Maybe it can wait until later yeah?” He suggests with a small nod towards Max who is starting to stir, if they keep talking they’re going to wake her and she needs the rest. 

“Yeah, we should all try to get some more sleep, it’ll be alright.” Steve says, his voice softening, “And for the record, Dustin, all that stuff I said about protecting Eddie? I’d do the same for you.” He doesn’t say it but there’s the unspoken implication that it applies to all of them, the kids, Robin, Nancy, and even Jonathan if it came to it. 

“Steve?” It’s been a couple of minutes since Steve last spoke, Dustin is already snoring again, and he’s not sure if Steve is even still awake, but he needs to say it once more.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say it again, thank you.”

“Go back to sleep Eddie.”

And surprisingly he does.

--------------

They eat breakfast together, Max, Eddie, Dustin, Steve, Wayne, and Susan all crammed into the Munson’s tiny trailer. Max knows they’ll go their separate ways afterward. Steve has to drive Dustin home to change clothes and get his school bag before he drives him to school, then he has to pick up Robin before her shift starts. While Wayne, Eddie, and her have to drive down to the police station. 

“Dustin, could you please show this to Max’s teachers?” Her mom asks, rushing down the trailer steps to catch up with them before Dustin gets inside Steve’s beemer, “It’s a note to let them know Max won’t be going to school for a few days.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Hargrove.” Dustin takes the offered piece of paper with a toothy smile. He gets inside Steve’s car and they leave the trailer park.

“Thank you, mom.” Max wraps her arms around her mom, pulling her into a hug that doesn’t last long enough. She would have liked to stay in her embrace longer, but then her mom would be late for work and she would hate to get her in trouble with her boss.

“Take care kids,” Susan tells them before she heads out of the trailer park in her car.

“It’s weird to be called a kid by another adult that’s not Wayne.” It’s not the first time she’s said it, but even Max has noticed that it’s becoming a much more regular occurrence. 

“Does it bother you?”

“Not really, Red.” Eddie places his hands on her shoulders, both watching her mom drive away. “I could get used to it.”

“Alright kids, let’s go,” Wayne says, closing the door of the trailer and walking to his truck.

-----------

The process of filing the complaint is smoother and faster than Eddie had thought it’d be, it helps that the chief of police is on his side and that Hawkins is a small town where nothing ever really happens. Other than the whole interdimensional monsters thing, a girl with superpowers, and a secret Russian base under the local mall, of course. 

Two weeks. Two and a half weeks is how long it takes for him to be called to the courthouse. This is the part that had been worrying him the most, the wait leading up to this moment. His friends tried to take his mind off it, constant visits, Max rarely leaving his side, it helped, but not as much as seeing Jason and his minions standing in a courtroom. 

The whole ordeal feels like a fever dream. Between an unexpected turn of events involving Andy and Brad turning their backs on Jason when they learn about the consequences of their actions otherwise,  Jason almost losing it during the hearing and threatening Eddie’s life in front of everyone, and his body still recovering from his injuries, he feels drained before the day is even over.

Max, Steve, Hopper and Wayne cheer when the judge announces their verdict. The four of them are being much too loud for the quiet of the courtroom, but they’re too caught up in their celebrations to care about the stern glare they’re getting from everyone around them. 

Jason’s sentence is the heftiest out of the three of them, but they all receive a restraining order,  a hefty fine, and community service as well as being required to cover Eddie’s medical bill. It’s not the harshest punishment they could have received, Wayne and Hopper had been pushing for jail time, but it’s more than Eddie ever expected.

The news of the Carvers leaving town comes a week later.

And just like that, it’s over.

[m5ria]

Chapter 19: The Graveyard

I really, really don’t want to jinx anything. But the way I wake up the next morning is only raising my hopes. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe there is something about this deal. 

Oh, I know I speak too soon. I haven’t even tried one of Alastor’s tasks.

He didn’t say anything about it yesterday. Regardless, when we struck the deal, he did imply that there won’t be any more lessons until I complete one of his tasks. I suppose I’ll have to wait for him to call on me.

And this is why I know it’s the Radio Demon I’m dealing with and no one else.

Climbing down the stairs, I judge if I could take again the risk of going outside. Maybe resume hunting and hoping I could find buyers who’d be discreet. I’ll have to be really witty about it.

I aim to quickly go into the dining room and grab an apple before I see Angel is at the table, eating porridge.

I don’t have time to go back before he sees me. The tension is slightly awkward. We’ve never truly spoken since that day in the hallway. And mistakenly spying on him doesn’t count as an interaction.

“Y’know,” he rests his head on one upper hand, “you don’t have to avoid me.”

“I don’t know what I have to do,” I shrug.

“I was pissed, alright?” he rolls his eyes. “It passed.”

“Ok.”

I still stay awkwardly in the doorway. I’ve forgotten why I came here in the first place.

“What’s the deal with ya?” he asks. 

“Nothing!”

“Are you mad at me? Ever since him, you kept to yaself.”

“No, it’s not...” then I shut up. I can’t reveal the reason why I was so absent these days.

“Ok, then,” he waves one lower hand as if something annoys him. “D’you want to come with me and Cherri to smash some shit?”

He takes me by surprise. The invitation slightly makes me feel better.

“What kind of shit?” I eye him suspiciously.

“There’s an old graveyard not too far from here,” he points to some direction. “We can smash some stones or candles or some shit.”

“Why the hell does a graveyard exist in Hell?” I ask him.     

“It’s for the ones who double-die,” he shrugs. When I look at him still confused, he explains further: “Nobody’s mourning anybody here. After the Extermination, the graveyard fills itself with mortuary stones. A shit show from angels.”

“Oh, ok. Then, I’m in!”

His eyes are big for a split of a second as if he can’t believe how easy it was to convince me. Then he stands up and grabs a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. 

“Oh! Grab me an apple too!” I remember.

We leave together the dining room. I expected to go to the exit of the hotel, but Angel heads to the bar. To Husk.

“Heyyy, Husky!” he tries to caress the cat demon’s chin, but the other backs out.

“Fuck off, Angel.”

“D’you want to join us?”

“Are you gonna smash old stuff in that graveyard again?” Husk asks annoyed.

“You should try it sometime,” Angel advises. “Now that I think of it, I consider myself quite old as well …”

He winks at Husk.

“You never learn, Angel,” Husk sighs.

“And you never have fun, Husky!” 

Husk glances in my direction. After one look, he grabs something below the counter. A cocktail.

“Thanks, Husk!” I smile gladly, taking the bottle. This demon really knows his job.

“Would you like to give me one too, Husky?” Angel blinks sweetly at him. “Well, preferably without the tail.”

“ANGEL!” Husk and I shout at the same time.

“What?” he asks us. “Ah, you’re right! I like your tail!”

I grab Angel by his arm before Husk jumps at Angel’s throat. 

In fifteen minutes, we arrive at a foggy graveyard. It looks the same as any other on Earth.

Pity. 

“I expected something more … spooky,” I admit.

“It’ll be, toots!” Angel grows his third pair of arms, this time with a baseball bat. I stare at him, but this time no words escape my mouth.

“Did someone say scoots?” a voice comes from the most. I glance at Angel who’s grinning like an idiot.

“Have you heard yaself being called?” Angel provokes.

The silhouette of a girl emerges from the fog. The first thing I notice is that she has one malefic eye. The second one is that she plays with a ball in her hands.

“Take this!” she throws it. Angel jumps to his left and I disappear before the ball explodes.

“Close enough,” Angel stands up and smooths his clothes.

“Oh, hon! I haven’t even tried!” she smiles diabolically. Then she looks at me: “Who’s this?”

“She’s Diana,” Angel presents. “She’s the newest unredeemable sinner who’s probably looking for free rent.”

“Hey!” I protest.

“Ain’t it true, tho?” he raises an eyebrow.

I think of any good way to contradict him, but he’s 100% right. Why would I pretend any different?

“So, this is the chick you robbed that shop with?” Cherri asks Angel. “I’m officially jealous.”

“Hi!” The pathetic introduction makes me immediately slap myself mentally. “I’m …”

“The Wild One!” she tiptoes to me. “The mystery meat merchant.”

“Do you know about me?” I ask her bewildered. Weary.

She nods and says: “No. Angie told me.”

“Oh.”

“So, tell me,” she leans on my shoulder. “How much for a pussy?”

I jump back, leaving her to regain her balance. Angel laughs at her clumsiness.

“I hope you don’t mean cats,” I answer. “And I hope you don’t mean vaginas.”

“A third meaning?” she breathes in sharply with a hand on her mouth. “What can it be?”

“You must excuse Cherri here,” Angel chuckles. “She’s horny ever since she beat the shit out of Sir Pentipuss.”

“Sir Pentious,” she corrects him with a big smile.

“Dammit! You gave it to me!”

“Are we gonna fuck this place up or what?” Cherri shouts unnecessarily.

I look at them, one with a baseball ball and one with bombs. I came unprepared.

Not really, though.

I focus on my hands that clutch the air.

“Hey, Angie,” Cherri whispers to him. “What’s she doin’?”

“Her magic,” he whispers back.

In my hands, ice materializes in the imperfect form of an axe. I look at it quite proud.

“Woah!” Cherri’s eyes widen. “Are you the Snow Queen?”

“More like Elsa,” Angel gives his opinion.

“Wait, I thought you said you were old,” I look at him. “Elsa is from 2014.”

“Haven’t ya been carrying around that awful book all around ya?” Angel rolls his eyes. “How d’you think it came to Hell?”

“Do people bring things to Hell when they die?” I ask him curiously.

“Besides memories?” Cherri comes in. “Not really. Things just appear. Maybe Overlords bring them. Like Vox and his Voxflix or Velvette and her Sinstagram. By the way, you just have to follow me! My name is @bombingbichbabe.”

“Are we smashing things or chit-chatting?” Angel sighs exaggerating.

Cherri casually lets a bomb escape her pocket. Angel jumps like a cat from a cucumber. I, on the other hand, don’t react anyway. The bomb was not fired.

Cherri and I laugh at Angel’s hard breathing, which only accentuates his fluffy chest.

“How I got ya!” she punches him in the arm.

“Whatever!” he rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

I see Cherri summon another bomb. She fires it and then throws it as far as possible. Not three seconds pass before a bunch of rocks fly everywhere.

“Off for a big start, then?” Angel raises his bat.

I smile like a child and spin my ax between my fingers. With a sudden burst of energy, I swing it through a gravestone and it splits the stone in two with a satisfactory sound.

“WOO!” I cry out.

“Nice one!” Cherri looks at the perfect cut.

The sound of shattering multiple stones makes us both turn at Angel, who laughs maniacally. We split and start destroying everything we see.

It’s not like anyone needs them down here anyway.

After a while, the sweet music of explosions is accompanied by another song. A hymn, perhaps? I turn to Cherri and Angel who seem to consider this whole thing a kind of rebellion against Heaven. They give the middle finger to the sky and sing:

“Fuck you, Heaven!

You’re no haven!

Fuck you, Heaven!

You should shatter!”

“Is that an original?” I ask while I break another gravestone in four.

“How else???” Angel’s eyes widen with way too much energy.

When I try the next gravestone, my axe breaks. 

“What the...” 

I look at the ice axe, which was quite resistant all this time. Maybe I can’t keep ice strong as long as I want to. Or maybe...

I circle the gravestone, trying to read the name on it.           

Anita Cunningham.

No fucking way.

That last name … That last name was my mother's maiden surname … 

Anita is not her first name.

Of course, it isn’t! It’s an anagram. For Tiana Cunningham.

Anagrams were our secret language.

It doesn’t explain why her name is on this gravestone. She wouldn’t have fallen here. No, she was the sweetest, bravest and kindest person there could be. The best mother a child could ask for.

My mother was my guardian angel. Whenever my father was … temperamental, my mother would shield me the best way she could. Make my life a little more bearable. That was until I turned ten years old. She died suddenly, one day being fine and dandy and the next one gone. My father always told me that she was attacked by stray dogs. Mutilated in a way that he couldn’t recognize her anymore. He never let me see her body.

From that moment … I knew no more affection. Until him. And it was all a ruse.

I don’t realize how much I stayed in front of the gravestone, with my hand on the name, until Cherri’s biggest explosion so far brings me back to the present. I push back my tears and stand up.

“You saw that, Elsa?” Angel screamed at me.

“No more toots?” I shout back, swallowing my pain.

“Nah, you’re officially Elsa.”

“Oh, great …”

I try to summon another axe, but I fail. There’s no more ice in me. 

I walk and stop next to them. We stand on the edge of a big hole in the ground. It looks like a meteorite just fell. In the earth, there are remainings of bones and skulls.

“Is it their weird way of celebrating Halloween?” I ask no one in particular.

“It’s so weird!” Cherri speaks up. “The exterminators dissolve demons. There ain’t no corpses left.”

“Oh, fuck it!” Angel raises his hands bored and walks away.

“Where are you going?” I ask him.

Before he answers, a wind surrounds the three of us. It turns into a tornado and we’re pulled towards each other, towards the center.

“What the FUCK?!” Cherri screams.

But Angel and I remain speechless, as we already recognize the voodoo symbols around us. Next thing we know, we’re in the middle of a stage with a red curtain closed.

“Ah, tremendous!!!” someone speaks behind us. We turn and see Alastor smiling cheerfully, accompanied by clapping sounds. “You've brought company!”

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[slasherhaven]

Hello! I adore your blog so much! Just a quick question, are you planning on doing part2 of 'Disruptive', Thomas x reader hc? Maybe reader finds out what happend to Ian and Cecilia (those were the names, right?)

Thomas Hewitt X Reader

Part 1 HERE

Disruptive Part 2:

Luda May had tried to shield you from the fate of your friends but you knew what was happening as soon as you heard Hoyt's gun go off. She held you as you cried, both from the feelings of betrayal and from the violence taking place outside.

She had continued to comfort you during the days following their deaths, shushing you and reassuring you. She had tried to get Thomas to see you, to take her role in comforting you, but he had refused each time. He was sure that you wouldn't ever want to look at him again, never mind be comforted by him. So, he took to avoiding you, assuming Luda May would bring you more comfort than anything else could.

Everything had happened so fast but you had managed to wrap your head around the main points and come to terms with them. Ian and Cecilia were dead, the family that you were now living with had killed them.

It was scary at first but the family never seemed to wish you any harm, Luda May always assured you of that. Even Hoyt refrained from threatening you or scaring you, apparently he hadn't been fond of your friends but had no real problem with you since you had been the polite one. Still, neither he or Monty went out of their way to make you feel particularly welcome.

In the end, you couldn't say you mourned your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend all that much, considering the betrayal they had committed. More than anything, you had been afraid about what your time in the house would mean for you. But...it had never meant you any harm, and you believed they would continue to welcome you in their home.

Luda May had apologised for your loss, apologised for what the family did but assured you that you were safe here. She had also asked you not to blame Tommy.

Some time passed and the family trusted you to move freely around the residence. You were still polite and undeservingly kind to the family, helping with chores and assimilating with the family relatively easily. You were a welcomed addition in everyone's eyes.

Still, Thomas was avoiding you and you had become highly aware of it. Now that everything had calmed down, you could notice the lack of the large man in every room you walked into. At first you thought it was a coincidence, now you were certain he was avoiding you on purpose.

Despite wishing that Thomas wouldn't keep avoiding you, you hadn't had much chance to confront him about it. At least, until today.

The house was pretty quiet and you were in the kitchen, having just finished some chores when you glanced out of the window. From your position at the window, you could see Thomas outside by the collection of cars. Hoyt must have asked him to strip down the newest car, the car you had arrived in.

You smiled to yourself, determined to take the chance to speak with him. Grabbing a chilled glass from the tray, you hurried outside and skipped down the steps.

It reminded you of a graveyard, cars in various states of distress lined up in the field. Some stripped down to their frames, others barely touched but parts rusting away.

"Thomas" you spoke as you approached him, getting his attention since his back was to you. You bit back a small laugh when he jumped and turned to face you, clearly surprised by your presence.

"It's hot, I thought you would like a drink" you offered as you held out the glass of freshly made iced lemonade.

He looked a little suspicious of your offer at first but his face soon softened before he took the glass from you.

He tensed some more when he realised what he had been doing as you approached. He glanced back at the before, looking nervously at you before hanging his head.

Even though he didn't say anything, it was like you could read his mind. He was worried that you would be upset about him stripping your car for parts.

"Don't worry. It was Ian's car, you can do whatever you want with it" you assured him with a small shrug, lazily kicking the flat tyre as if to further your point.

Thomas nodded, relaxing slightly, before drinking from the glass that you had so generously provided him.

You rocked back and forth on your feet for a moment as it fell silence, feeling a little awkward and sensing the tension in the air.

"Have you been avoiding me?" you finally asked, deciding there was no point dancing around the subject.

Thomas just shifted his weight, unsure of how to answer. He could be honest and say 'yes', but he knew that would sound rude, and surely you wanted him to avoid you. Or he could lie and say 'no', but he didn't want to lie to you and he knew you already knew the truth.

"It's alright if you have, I get it" you reassured him, not wanting him to feel guilty for it. "Just stop, okay?...I'm not mad at you and...and I miss you" you confessed, noticing how his eyes widened slightly at your words.

How could you miss him? You had only known him for a day before he started avoiding you. He supposed the only real company you had now was Luda May, so maybe...that was why you 'missed' him. He couldn't wrap his head around you having forgiven him and wanting to have him around.

"I have to get back before Luda May finds me gone but stop avoiding me, okay?" you spoke again when he didn't really respond.

This time, Thomas nodded, making you smile before running back towards the house. Thomas smiled to himself as he watched you run back into the house, hoping that you really had meant it and he wouldn't have to avoid you any more.

Thomas was true to his word and stopped avoiding you. Conversations should have been a little awkward but you found any silences comfortable and you kept the conversation flowing. He didn't talk, you had learnt that for sure now, but he listened intently and always responded in what ways he could.

Now, you spent more time with him that any other Hewitt. Now, he did the opposite of avoiding you. He was always around, seeking you out just for your friendly company.

You were thankful for those developments but a new concern was worming its way into your mind. Even when he wasn't around, you were thinking about him, you couldn't wait until you saw him again. Whenever he was around, you would smile, practically giddy to be around him again.

Could you be developing feelings for Thomas?

From the first day you met him, defending him behind the gas station, you had thought he was sweet. You had also found him attractive, tall with broad shoulders and strong arms. God, you wondered what those arms would feel like wrapped around you.

You could never make out all of his facial features because of his mask but you could see his eyes. Oh, how you adored his eyes. They were expressive and beautiful. You wanted to tell him that whenever you could see him doubting himself.

You wondered if he would ever take his mask off around you, if he would ever let you see his face. You had heard from Luda May that he had some sort of skin condition and that was what he was hiding, but you didn't care. You just wanted to see him...maybe he would even let you k-

"I'm so glad you and Thomas are talking again" Luda May's voice brought you out of your thoughts, reminding you of where you were. You were in the kitchen, helping cook supper, but had completely zoned out with thoughts of Thomas.

"He's a good boy and he likes you, he's just a little shy" she smiled to herself. She obviously loved Thomas and it did make you smile, it was sweet.

You sighed and you collected yourself, practically deflating as you pushed away the thoughts about Thomas. Yes, you could be honest with yourself, you had developed a crush on Thomas but it surely didn't matter. You doubted he returned your feelings, even despite how highly Luda May claimed he thought of you.

"It's alright, he was just worried about everything that happened..." you cleared your throat, hoping she hadn't seen the change in expression on your face. You didn't feel like being questioned about it right now. "Do you want me to come to the gas station with you tomorrow?" you asked, changing the subject. You didn't like the idea of her walking down there on her own.

"No, that's alright, dear. Hoyt is going to drive me up" Luda May assured you and you nodded. "I'll ask Tommy to help you out with some chores tomorrow, I'm sure he won't mind helping" she offered.

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle it" you shook your head, able to handle some clean up on your own.

"Trust me, dear, Tommy will be happy to help" she insisted, giving you a knowing look.

You were sure she knew something you didn't, but you couldn't question her about it because Thomas had walked into the room, making you both look back at him.

"Hey Tommy, we're almost done with supper" you told him with a smile.

"Would you help Y/n clean up after breakfast tomorrow?" Luda May asked and Thomas nodded without hesitation.

"Thank you, Tommy" you smiled at him. You tried to hide it but Luda caught the light blush on your cheeks as you turned back to the task at hand.

The next morning, Thomas kept his promise. Hoyt was taking Luda May to the gas station, Monty was passed out in front of the television, and Thomas had come to help you clean up in the kitchen. Well, he was supposed to be helping but he was basically doing it all, not letting you help when you tried.

He had been working in a comfortable silence for a while, as your mind ran while. You watched him work, watching the muscles of his back moving under his shirt, smiling at him whenever he glanced over his shoulder at you.

Sometimes you thought he might return some of your feelings but then your newfound insecurities would show their ugly faces. You used to be so confident in yourself, able to take rejection with understanding, it wouldn't shake you. But now you doubted yourself, now you couldn't stand the idea of Thomas not thinking you were enough.

You sat on the kitchen table, where Thomas had placed you and silently ordered you to stay making you laugh, and anxiously picked at the wood with your nails.

"Thomas?" you finally spoke, making him look at you. "Do I talk too much?" you asked. Ian had believed you were too much, too chatty at times, too eager, just too much and yet not enough all at the same time.

Thomas instantly shook his head. He honestly liked how much you talked, that you even wanted to talk to him in the first place. Your face would light up as you rambled about something that had happened that day, and it made his chest feel warm. He couldn't help it but smile whenever you talked so happily, even about the most mundane things.

You almost smiled but not quite. He seemed to be being honest, you didn't talk too much. He didn't think like Ian had...but that didn't help much.

"...do you think I'm attractive?" you asked quietly after a short moment of silence. You never thought you were the most attractive person in the world but you had been comfortable in your own skin, at least until you found out your boyfriend had been fucking your best friend for months. There had to be a reason for Ian to betray you like that, you must have done something wrong.

Thomas paused at your question, his eyes widening.

Surely this was a trick question, how was he supposed to answer that? Of course he did! Of course he thought you were attractive, but would you think it was weird if he said that?

Thomas had thought you were attractive from the first moment he saw you. He thought you were the kindest and bravest person he had met since you took that punch for him, and still smiled up at him like he was worth it. Ever since your first encounter with each other, he was smitten with you. And those feelings had only grown as he spent more time with you. He absolutely adored you. God, he wished he could tell you all of that...

You took his silence as a negative response. He didn't answer because he didn't want to hurt you...

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that..." you hung your head, looking down at your lap. You shouldn't have put him in that position, you shouldn't have asked.

Thomas panicked a little, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad. He just hadn't wanted to make you uncomfortable. He took a breath, trying to build up his confidence, before walking over to you.

You looked down at where your hand lay on the table when you felt Thomas' much larger one rest over yours. You teared your gaze away and looked up at him. He just nodded once you were finally looking at him again.

"Thanks, Tommy" you smiled. "I think you're attractive too" you confessed.

He pulled his hand away then, looking down at his feet. You were just being kind, saying what you were meant to say, or just straight up making fun of him.

"Hey" you frowned, quickly catching his hands in both of yours. "I mean it" you promised him as he met your gaze again, still looking unsure. "You doubt yourself too much, think too lowly of yourself" he tensed when you released on of his hands, bringing your hand up to his mask. "I don't know exactly why you wear this but I promise, whenever you feel like you can take it off around me, I will still think you're attractive" you promised, tugging on his hand to pull him closer.

Thomas let you pull him closer, swallowing the lump in his throat as he came to stand between your legs, hand still in yours. He had to do something, he had to savour the moment. Could you really be being honest with him?

He lifted his free hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making you smile softly up at him. He still didn't talk but you knew what he was saying. You too. You shouldn't doubt yourself, you were everything he could ever want, and he did want you.

Since you didn't pull away, Thomas' confidence began to grow. The hand he had hovering around your face gently cupped your cheek and he swore his heart skipped a beat when you nuzzled your face into his large palm.

Thomas wasn't Ian. Thomas clearly cared deeply about you, he wouldn't betray you, he wouldn't hurt you like Ian had.

You placed your hand over the only he held against your cheek, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. Thomas just looked at you in complete awe.

It made him think back to the man you had arrived with, your boyfriend, Ian. How could Ian ever betray you like he did. Thomas had met your friend, Cecilia, and sure she was pretty but nothing when compared to you. And she wasn't even half as kind. Thomas would never hurt you like that, he couldn't even fathom it.

Here you were, tenderly kissing his palm and looking at him...lovingly, if he didn't know any better.

The sound of the front door slamming closed made you both jump, Thomas' hand falling from your face and landing instinctively on you thigh as you both turned towards the door of the kitchen.

"What the fu-" Hoyt began but cut himself off with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Y'know what, I don't wanna know. Just not in the fucking kitchen" he snarled before grabbing a beer from the fridge and leaving the room.

Both you and Thomas blushed at the implications of what Hoyt had thought you'd been doing, Thomas stepping away from you with an almost apologetic look.

"It's alright, Tommy" you smiled as you hopped down from the table. "Let finish up cleaning, okay?" you asked and he just nodded, assuming you were about to just ignore whatever the moment was that you both shared.

You smiled up at him again, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers through his, before guiding him back across the kitchen.

[nocapesdahling]

Congrats!! I’m sending this early because otherwise I’ll forget haha love that adhd. But “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?” With Zemo please??

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in and for being my first request!! I had a lot of fun writing this one, and hope you enjoy it!

Signs

Helmut Zemo x GN! Reader

Warnings/Tags: Reader is oblivious when it comes to flirting; Zemo is trying; A couple of references to implied sexual content if you squint; Mentions of canon-typical violence; Fluff; Featuring cherry blossom tea

Prompt: “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

You first noticed something in Madripoor. It wasn’t obvious at first, or maybe you were as oblivious to stuff like that as Sam liked to joke you were. You’d heard it more than once from him over the years, “They were flirting with you. Didn’t you notice?” or “Damn, he was pulling out all the moves. What’d you think of him?”

Your answer was usually, “They were?” or “What moves?”, unless the person had been obvious in a way that was too noticeable to miss.

You didn’t see Zemo’s eyes lingering on your form while you took in his collection of cars. You didn’t realize that he’d been flirting with you on his private jet, though you’d seen Sam making the faces at you that he saved for the club or the bar to let you know that someone was attempting to flirt with you. Attempting being the key word. You hadn’t had time to think about it for long as Zemo had offered you champagne and a food that you’d never heard of before that he mentioned was a Sokovian delicacy. You were busy savoring the delicious flavor under Zemo’s approving eyes, and only realized afterwards that neither Sam nor Bucky had been offered any.

It took you until Madripoor when people started to shoot at your group that you finally noticed something. When Zemo darted to the right away from the shooting, he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him. You ducked into the alley, struggling to try to take your hand back as you ran. However, he was an immovable force, pulling you alongside him with his gloved fingers tight around yours as you moved further and further away from the gunshots and from Sam and Bucky. He leaned out of the alley to check for enemies before turning to you with a smile, “Well, that was exhilarating. Wasn’t it, draga?”

He let go of your hand, and something inside you mourned the loss of his fingers in yours. Pushing that thought aside for later consideration, you breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, attempting to get your bearings and knowing that you’d have to run again in a moment. You lifted your gaze from the ground when you caught a glimpse of his black boots and felt his warmth close to you.

“We have to move now. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Zemo. I’m ready.”

“As much as I’d like to, I won’t hold your hand again. Not now at least. We need to move quickly.”

You leaned out of the alley and looked both ways before starting to run, “Race you, Zemo.”

You heard a small chuckle as he used his long stride to draw even with you. “It’s Helmut, draga. If you’d do me the honor.”

You turned the corner and even as you sped up at the sight of the men in front of Sam and Bucky, you couldn’t help but savor his name. Helmut. It suited him. So yes, you realized that something might be up in Madripoor. You only knew for certain in Riga.

Helmut’s apartment was beautiful. The stained glass had mesmerized you as soon as you saw it, the tub was perfect for taking a long bath, and even the beds made you want to stay in them for hours. After all the adventures of the last few days, it was nice to come back to the apartment after trying to find out where Donya’s funeral was and collapse onto the couch. Your eyes drifted shut, and you were startled awake in what seemed like no time at all by the breaking of glass. You stirred and took in the scene of Bucky and Zemo confronting each other with Sam working to de escalate the situation.

As the others left the room, you listened for the distant sound of a door slamming and Sam’s faint voice speaking on his cell before sitting up. “I’d like some of that cherry blossom tea, Helmut.”

Zemo turned to you with a faint smirk, “Of course, draga. One cup of cherry blossom tea coming right up.”

As you sipped your tea, you took him in over the rim of the cup. It wasn’t the first time you noticed, but you couldn’t help but note to yourself again that his coat looked too good on him. It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to be noticing stuff like that about someone like Helmut Zemo, but you couldn’t seem to help yourself. Your eyes travelled up his neck, noting the moles and freckles and wondering what they’d feel like under your tongue, before reaching his face. As you met his knowing brown eyes, the gasp you let out was unintentional. The smirk he shot you on the other hand was full of intent. You glanced down again, taking a deep gulp of tea to try to stave off some of your embarrassment. It also meant you couldn’t talk, even as you tried not to cough.

“You look like you’re enjoying the tea.” His amusement showed through in his voice. “Though you may want to slow down a little. Don’t need you choking on me, draga.”

You almost choked for a different reason, imagining those words in a different context. Bad brain.

“Yes. It’s very good, Helmut. Thank you.” You looked at the bottom of the cup and wondered how you’d finished it so quickly as you placed it back down on the coffee table.

His chuckle broke the silence, “Your face, draga. It makes me wonder what’s going through your head.” When you didn’t volunteer your thoughts, he continued, “You can have more, you know? Even if we ran out, I’d make you more if you asked. I would get you whatever you wanted.”

“What are we doing, Helmut?” Once the words were out there, you wished you could take them back.

He placed his own cup down and stood up, moving to sit alongside you on the couch. He offered his ungloved hand and after a moment’s thought, you placed your hand in his.

“What are we doing? I think you know.”

“No, I really don’t. I never know. Why are you acting like this with me? And no one else?”

He threaded his fingers through yours and moved his other hand to grasp your face, gently tilting it up so you met his eyes. “Really, draga?” He looked at you as though waiting for a response, and when you gave none he continued. “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

You thought back over Zemo’s past actions, and realized that to some people his intentions may have been obvious. There had been signs, and now that you thought about it you should have realized sooner. “No, not to me.”

“Oh, draga. I’ve been trying to get your attention for far longer than I’d care to admit.”

Without hesitation, you spoke. “You didn’t need to get my attention. You already had it.”

You leaned in to kiss him, meeting him halfway as he’d done the same. The last coherent thought you’d have for a while was, Sam may have been right, not that you’d ever tell him. When it came to stuff like this, you really were oblivious.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. Thanks for reading!!

A/N: If you’re interested in checking out the other fics I’ve written for Zemo, then please see my Masterlist below.

My Masterlist

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii !!! if you are accepting requests at the moment, can i ask something about reader and tom expecting a baby, one day while he’s drunk she sees him flirting with another women and when she confronts him he snaps at her and tells her he’s not ready for this “shit”. So they broke up and broke contact for months, until he shows in her apartment regretting his words and they talk but she suddenly at that moment gets into labor?!? I remember seeing a concept similar in a movie but I would love if you couldn’t bring it to life! Thank you so much in advance, appreciate your work a lot 🧸🤎

right so I loved this so much it has become a multiple parter and im not even going to apologise. so thanku so so much anon for getting me out a little rut!!!

summary: when toms caught out all hope looks lost - probs part 1 of 3 but it could get a bit longer too lol

warnings: serious angst, reference to abortion, cheating, a whole lot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi babe, just to let you know Yamna’s invited me out for dinner this evening so don’t worry if you get home early and im not back! I love you x”

It was a spur of the moment plan, which was a rarity recently. The past 5 months since you’d found out, you could name barely 5 occasions you’d been out past 8 oclock- trading your heels for fuzzy slippers and dresses for massively oversized tops and joggers. It wasn’t how you had expected to be spending the summer before your 25th birthday but it was now your life. The rooftop bars, the wild nights, the get aways had all sort of been cancelled for… for the rest of your life.

Because an 8 month pregnant belly isn’t something you can ignore.

Sure…. it wasn’t the plan. Not the plan to be pregnant with your boyfriend of only 6 months, who at the time you didn’t even live with. But you were making it work. And now, you were just excited. It was the start of a new story with Tom, and you’d got past the phase of being sad and mourning your youth. Because the little bubba inside of you, she was pretty awesome and you really couldn’t wait to meet her.

So yes, you had been home alone eating ice cream from a tub when Yamna knocked on the door. She’d been one of your best mates for as long as you could remember so when she’d turned up unannounced with mascara smeared under her eyes you’d cancelled your plans of a pathetic alone evening. Her boss had just given her the sack - which was no surprise. He was a backwards tory old git who couldn’t handle the fact Yamna was a woman doing the job better than he could ever dream of.

So yes, you’d suggested going out to the fancy new bar down the road - to celebrate the fact she no longer had to put up with the arsehole. Obviously you couldn’t drink and neither did Yamna, but you go to a bar for the atmosphere - and the selection of mocktails they had was insane.

Your boyfriend Tom was already out, he said he had a meeting and then dinner with some execs he needed to shmoosh. Of course you didn’t mind, but he had been working a lot recently, in order to be able to have the time off when your baby girl arrives.

So after sending a little text and giving Yamna another hug to try and turn the evening from disappointment to celebration you walked out the door with a smile on your face. Maybe you could pretend, just for an evening to not be pregnant and whale-like?

///////////////////////////

The bar was just a 10 minute walk so it wasn’t long before the two of you were soaking up the atmosphere. It was all decorated in a rustic fashion, with old exposed wood and dangling lightbulbs from the ceiling and the drinks were incredible. The type that have dry ice or flames or some other sort of fantastical display of edible decorations. Even Yamna had perked up, especially when a guy from the table across had bought you both a round of drinks.

“I’m just gonna pop to the loo.”

“Do you really need the toilet or do you just want to parade infornt of the fit rich man who keeps looking at you?”

“ Is both an option?” You laughed as Yamna slipped off her stool, winking rather dramatically as she did so. She was unbelievable - but at least this way she wasn’t thinking about her work, or lack thereof, anymore.

Happily you sat scrolling though your phone, seeing that tom had messaged you with an okay, before flicking through instagram.

And that was where the happiness ended.

For in a hurried manner, with a face looking a lot more ghosted than when she left, Yamna took her seat again.

“Are you okay?” Immediately your worry took over, the way she was biting her lip and not meeting your eyes not helping.

“I um yeh-yeh. Just I think I saw Tom.”

“Tom as in my Tom?” Her almost guilty looking nod had your scrunching your eyebrows, why was it such a big deal Tom was inside?

“He didn’t see me I don’t think but er… he just looked pretty close to a girl and I-“

To be honest you stopped listening at that point, heart dropping out the bottom of your chest. Because it made sense, he had been so distant recently and even if you’d been lying to yourself that it were work - this seemed much more likely. Whilst nodding along, pretending to listen to Yamna, instead your attention was solely focused on fiddling with the promise ring he’d got you after the two of you decided to keep the baby. He’d been so committed, so ready for this unexpected news. He’d said he was in for the long haul.

“Y/n?”

“sorry I um… it’s probably just a work colleague he needs to sweet talk. I’ll um-I’ll just go say hello.”

“I’m coming with you.” She spoke astutely, very much forcing herself into the situation.

“No no I’ll… I’ll come back if I need you, just wait here.”

Her face was so grim and destitute, as much as you were pretending it was okay - you knew it wasn’t. Before Yamna could protest further, you slipped off your seat ( clumsily thanks to the elephant belly) and walked with fake confidence back inside.

It took you barely 3 seconds to hone in on Tom, call it mothers intuition. He was on a booth in the corner with 5 others on his table but none of whom you recognised. It was 2 other guys and 3 girls - the six all paired off in mathcingly initimate conversations. Apart from that you payed almost zero attention to the others, attention solely focused on your boyfriend and the girl he had his arm round.

She was everything you weren’t. She was skinny - you, as previously mentioned, looked like you had a beachball stuffed under your top. She was blonde with sleek and perfectly styled waves at the tips of her long her - yours was thrown into a messy bun due to the last minute plans.

Most importantly - right now she was wrapped in Toms arms, whilst you stood alone watching.

God knows what came over you, but with confidence you never normally had you marched up to the table, just waiting at the end. One of the men you didn’t recognised, arrogantly asked you ‘can I help you’ - but you completely disregarded it, eyes solely fixed on Tom. He took a moment more to look away from the leggy girl, but as soon as he did his eyes grew massively wide.

“Y/n I-I-“

“Fancy bumping into you, I thought you were out with work executives?” Frantically casting his gaze across the table, you could see the cogs whirring to try and come up with an explanation.

“No I-I was but then Charlie here came over, we used to be mates at school and-“

“Oh fuck off Tom., I cant deal with this right now.”

You didn’t even have the energy to listen to his clearly fake excuses as to why he’d landed himself in that situation. You also certainly did not have it in you to maintain the strong face, you could feel everything shattering inside of you.

Because it was so blindingly obvious by how he had acted. You’d caught him out and you both knew it.

And it fucking hurt like hell.

So you exited the bar as fast as physically possible, hearing the shouts of both Yamna and Tom behind you. You didn’t know what you needed in that moment - except that neither of them were the answer. Tom though, presumably the faster of the two, managed to catch up - grabbing your arm to make you halt in the road.

There was this moment between the two of you that time almost seemed to freeze. The two of you, in an otherwise pretty empty residential street, at 9:30 at night, in a moment that you would never have again. From your point of view, you saw the slightly bloodshot and bleary eyes, widened with panic and fear. For Tom he saw the floods of tears down your cheeks, which you hadn’t even noticed were freely streaming.

But in that moment there was, at least, the slightest bit of peace. The slightest bit of hope - that he could explain, that he had some ludicrous but valid reason for the situation you had walked in on. Just a smidgen of hope that this were recoverable.

But then he had to open his bloody mouth.

“Y/n I swear nothing-“

“That didn’t look like fucking nothing!”

“It was I swear! We just-“

“Tom this is your one and only chance. I don’t care if your off your face, if you don’t give my a miracle of a reason as to what the fuck THAT was - then I’m gone.”

“Don’t say that Y/n, you don’t mean th-“ He tried to grab your hand which you snatched away, like you had just scalded it on a hot plate. Like he had hurt you.

“I swear to god I’ve never meant anything more. So cut the shit.”

“FIne-fine! Um so we were at the meeting and then on the way out I bumped into George and hes been a good mate of mine for years.” All you did was hum, arms crossed and making sure you had a metre of distance between the two of you.

“So he said god you look like you need a drink and I agreed because its been stressful as hell recently.”

“Oh its been stressful; for YOU has it? I’m so sorry Thomas, has it been hard for you while i’ve been throwing my lungs up with morning sickness? Has it been stressful that I’ve been running on zero hours sleep because she kicks me all bloody night? ” Your words were laced in a posioned sarcasm, to which Tom just stammered to.

“Please just let me.” Given he was supposed to be fighting for you, he sounded pretty darn defeated already.

“I said yes to the drink.” He skipped out the bit that had angered you, to which you rolled your eyes at. “And one turned into two and more and then I don’t know-“

“Your going to have to try a lot harder than that.” You deadpanned, taking a small step further back still.

“I mean it! The girls were all his friends and we were just talking.”

“Just talking? All pressed up and arms round her?”

“Yes!” As indignant as he retorted, it didn’t not make up for what you had seen with your own eyes.

“Your such a bullshitter Tom!”

“God why wont you just listen to me?” He cried, wobbly doing a little 360 on the spot, in what appeared to be exasperation.

“Because your just spouting fucking lies! And you try and blame it all on poor little tommo being stressed which is-“

“I HAVE BEEN! Running round after you! I’m just tired of this shit!!! So kill me, for having one night of freedom!”

Tom was too deep in his angry lecture to take any notice of you. Which is why, once finished, he waitied, breath heavy and nose flaring. He was waiting for you to scream back at him. To give it back. He was too drunk to notice the change in your demeanor.

“I’m tired of this shit.”

It was just reverberating round your head. Again and again and again. He was tired of your relationship and you hadn’t even become parents yet. He was at his wits-end and the baby was still unborn. What the fuck was going to happen when baby arrived? Clearly there was no hope. It was dead. Your relationship was dead with no chance of revival.

Because he’d said it. Your relationship was shit, and nobody can put up with something they hate for that long. Not 18 years. Not while bringing up a child.

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

?to be continued?

~~~~~~~~~~gahhhh I hope u enjoyed! I also REALLY CANNOT THINK OF A NAME FOR THIS MINISERIES --> if anyone can think of something pls inbox me!!! ~~~~~~~~

tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

[martelldoran]

WHAT'S THE CAUSALITY LOOP THEORY

Why Emma, thank you so much for asking. I’m not going to waste time before jumping into this because this is gonna get long so without further ado...

Steve Rogers’ Ending and How Endgame Doesn’t Support a Causality Loop and other such rambles

Last month, I came across a TikTok that proposed that Steve’s ending made sense because it existed within a causality loop. I would link the TikTok but I didn’t save it at the time and trying to find videos on that app is impossible. You think Tumblr’s search function is bad? 🙄 But I digress. The TL;DR of the video is that due to time travel and Steve choosing to go back in time to be Peggy’s husband, it created a causality loop where he was always meant to be her husband because he went back in time and stayed there. The TikToker supported his argument by using Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (PoA), another film that uses time travel and has a clearly defined example of a causality loop. However, his argument is fundamentally flawed so I’m going to combine my knowledge of my two biggest fandoms to tell you why.

Continued under the cut because I have no chill. Beware, it's long.

To first tell you how Endgame (EG) doesn’t support a causality loop, we must establish how PoA does establish one and does it successfully. The TikToker specifically mentions the scenes that take place at Hagrid’s Hut surrounding Buckbeak the hippogriff’s execution, so we’ll look at those first. What the film does really well is establish early on that there is something weird going on well before anyone actually goes back in time. There are three things that happen in quick succession during this scene which sets up the causality loop we see later in the film. First, a rock flies through the window and breaks a jar. Second, another rock hits Harry in the back of the head. Third, once outside, Hermione hears a branch snap and thinks she sees ‘something’. There are also two additional moments later on in the film once the Harry, Ron, and Hermione have come out of the Shrieking Shack which should also be noted: a wolf howl that distracts Remus Lupin in werewolf form from attacking the group and somebody casting a full-bodied stag patronus at the edge of the lake to save Harry and Sirius from the Dementors.

Of these occurrences, the first is arguably the most important because it does the most to establish that there is something going on outside of the Trio’s current understanding of their situation. The film makes a point to frame the jar breaking as Important Information the Audience Must Remember because it shows a visibly confused Hermione reacting to it as she picks up the rock for closer inspection and we the audience are given close up of it in her hand. Not only is it framed front and centre in the shot but the rock itself is very distinctive. It’s almost wholly smooth but for a swirl of fossil, thus marking it as not just any rock but An Important Rock To Be Remembered. This was an intentional choice by director Alfonso Curon because he uses this rock to connect this moment to its mirrored scene later on once Harry and Hermione use the Time Turner.

The audience and the characters find out about the causality loop at the same time. There are clearly stated rules of time travel that say that they aren’t to meddle with time but when Harry and Hermione see that Dumbledore, the Minister for Magic, and the executioner are on their way to Hagrid’s hut they panic because their counterparts aren’t leaving. Then, we see Hermione notice something in the pumpkin patch: a distinctive rock, smooth with a swirl of fossil. Again, we see have a close up shot with the rock centred to show its importance. Stylistically, it’s very similar to the shot we saw earlier in the film which gives the audience an emotional pay off for noticing the connection. When Hermione throws the rock and breaks the jar, it sets the causality loop in motion. The jar was always going to break because they went back in time to throw the rock that breaks it.

And it’s the same with all the other instances. Hermione throws the second rock that hits Harry in the back of the head to alert him to the fact they need to get out of the hut. Hermione snaps the branch and is almost seen by her counterpart in the past. Hermione makes the wolf call to distract Lupin from attacking. Harry, and not his father as he had assumed, casts the patronus to save himself and Sirius from the Dementors. But each of these moments are set up clearly in the ‘first run through’ to set up their payoff when the characters realise, ‘Oh, I did these things. They were always meant to happen.’ From a narrative standpoint, these are planned out moments to clue the audience into the fact that there’s something bigger at play. It keeps them ‘in the loop’ as it were.

This doesn’t happen in EG.

To successfully have set up a causality loop that made sense and had the same kind of set up and pay off as we see in PoA, it would have had to have been established as early as 2014 in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (CA:TWS). This does not happen. One of the main themes of CA:TWS is moving on from the past. Peggy Carter herself even says, “I’ve lived my life, my only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours.” Then saying soon after, “Sometimes the best thing we can do is to start over.” Peggy’s character in Captain America: The First Avenger is set up as someone who acts as the backup/back bone of Steve’s own moral compass. When Steve falters at Azzano about what to about the captured 107th, Peggy is there to remind him of what is right. She serves a similar narrative function in CA:TWS. Steve is struggling with life in the present. He’s just seen the helecarriers and argued with Nick Fury about protection vs fear after the botched Lumerian Star mission. Morally, he’s in turmoil and has turned to Peggy for council because he’s trying to find purpose in world where his rigid morality seems to have no place.

From the point of view of creating a causality loop, one would think that this scene in the hospital would be the place where an initial set-up could be made and alert the audience to the long term plan for Steve’s character. Instead, we have Peggy mourning the fact that Steve didn’t get to live his life the way it should have played out, and why would a woman who has supposedly been married to another version of Steve tell him to move on? In addition, when Steve visits the Smithsonian, he watches a video where he sees Peggy talking about how he influenced her life and how during one of his missions, he saved the man that would go on to become her husband. This is the only mention of Peggy’s husband in the entire franchise until Steve reappears as an old man at the end of EG.

Captain America: Civil War (CA:CW) also offers an opportunity to set up the causality loop at Peggy’s funeral but again, this does not happen. The only family we are introduced to is Sharon Carter, Peggy’s grand-niece. When it comes to filmmaking, every choice made is intentional. From the hair and makeup to the clothes, to the music used, everything in a film means something whether it is to further character development, world-building, or the plot. Filmmakers have a limited amount of time to convey a story and anything that doesn’t matter isn’t shown. Therefore, we can conclude from the text of the film that Peggy’s husband doesn’t matter to the narrative. The person in Peggy’s family who matters to the narrative is Sharon Carter which is why she is given prominence during CA:CW’s funeral scene. Had the causality loop been set up here, there would have been a defining moment like in PoA where the audience is clued into the larger story arc. Maybe someone says something, or he meets his older self, but that doesn’t happen. It should also be noted that apart from a small scene in Ant Man, Peggy isn’t mentioned again until EG.

In Endgame itself, the film still fails to set up a causality loop. It could be argued that this is the most important film for the set-up because this is when the audience gets the payoff. The first thing we see after the 5-yer time jump is Steve in a group therapy session for those that survived Thanos’ snap. Survivors share their stories and Steve talks about Peggy, a woman who has been dead in canon for 7-years and who died of old age. It’s incongruous and sticks out because narratively it doesn’t make sense for him to talk about her and not someone he watched disintegrate in front of his eyes. Steve watches his best friend and hundreds of others turn to ash around him and that film ends on his horrified face as he sits by his best friend’s ashes. Narratively, this is the thread that should carry through to EG but instead, he talks about missing his chance with Peggy. However, unlike PoA, there is no indication whether through dialogue or framing that clues the audience into Steve’s eventual ending at the end of the film.

Even when he goes back to the 70s, we see him looking mournfully at Peggy through the blinds in her office and a picture of him, pre-serum, on her desk. Steve and Peggy’s relationship prior to Endgame is supposed to represent the bittersweet loss of the life he could have had had he not sacrificed himself to the cause in CA:TFA. Then, since the audience knows from Steve and Peggy’s conversation in the hospital in CA:TWS that she moved on from Steve to live a happy life, we can assume that this picture is meant as nothing more than a fond memento of someone that meant a lot to her. Once more, there is no indication that Steve is ever meant to be her husband.

It’s impossible to infer a causality loop here in the same way as we saw in PoA. In PoA, there is a payoff for every single unusual or weird moment the story presents the audience before and after the use of time travel but this is something that’s completely absent from Endgame’s narrative. Steve himself doesn’t even vocalise a desire to go back in time at any point in EG nor at any point during the other films he appears in. In fact, when questioned by Tony Stark about the possibility of ‘going home’ in Avengers: Age of Ulton, he says, “The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.” While it is indicative of his unhappiness in the modern-day, it does indicate a level of acceptance of the fact that this is his life and he has to make his peace with it. He’s taken what Peggy said in CA:TWS on board. He’s starting over and moving on.

With time travel, and Steve choosing to stay in the past came the fan theory that one of the pallbearers carrying Peggy’s casket in CA:CW is Old Man Steve, her husband. When presented with this fan theory, writer Christopher Markus said during an interview with the LA Times at SDCC 2019,

“I would very much like that. There is no set explanation for Cap’s time travel . . .I mean, we’ve had public disagreements with [directors Anthony and Joe Russo] about what it [time travel] necessarily means, but I love the idea of there being two Steve Rogers in the timeline. One who lived a long life with Peggy and is in the background of that funeral scene watching his young self carry his wife’s coffin up. Not just for the time travel mumbo jumbo of it, but for the just weird, personal pain and satisfaction that would be happening between two Steve Rogers there. I kind of love it.” [emphasis mine]

This shows that unlike in PoA there was no intention of creating a causality loop prior to Markus writing EG with his writing partner Stephen McFeely. In fact, it makes clear that the actual rules of time travel were in contention and that even those making the film didn’t have a unified idea of what they wanted to create in the first place. The fact that there is confusion surrounding EG's time travel is due to the fact that the people behind it, didn't seem to know what they were writing or consider the consequences of it.

What all of this shows is that an argument of a PoA style causality loop doesn’t hold water. The film doesn’t support it, nor do any of the previous films, because there aren’t any indicators for the audience to latch onto. There is no moment of the rock breaking the jar, or the patronus chasing away the dementors, no moment where that the audience is told to hold into this information for later because there’s some timey wimey stuff going on. Ultimately, when examined, there is no set-up for a causality loop that supports the theory he was always supposed to go back and be Peggy’s husband, particularly when examined against a film that successfully lays it out from the start.

Right, the more academic (lol) part of this post is done. I just want to address one more TikTok that bothered me because I have opinions and MCU Captain America is my Mastermind specialist subject.

The TL;DR of this one was that Steve’s ending made sense because he got out of the fight and was at peace and that that has been the ultimate goal of his character arc. This person argued that Steve used the Avengers to distract himself from the fact that he’s this man out of time and he can’t find peace without a fight which to some extent, I agree with. I don’t deny that that is a major driving force to his story. We see that in Age of Ultron with his WandaNightmare. I don’t deny that that is key to his character. However, this creator then made a comment at the end of this video to the tune of, ‘bUt BuCkY iS hIs StOrY aRc’ and tried to play it off like this wasn’t true or that people were wrong to think that this is the case.

These two things aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re both true. They’re intertwined. But you cannot say that Bucky Barnes isn’t at the heart of Steve Rogers’ story. Bucky was the catalyst for every single one of Steve’s movies. He becomes CA because of Bucky. He goes against SHIELD because of Bucky. He defies 107 countries and the Sokovia Accords because of Bucky. You take Bucky out of the equation and what do you have? What happens in those films if you take Bucky Barnes out of the equation? Viewing it objectively, and even without shipper goggles on, you simply cannot sit there and claim that Bucky Barnes isn't a defining component to Steve’s story. Steve Rogers is motivated by Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers is motivated by the depth of their relationship and the fact that Bucky Barnes is one of the few things connecting his new present to his old life.

You can definitely see the fact that Steve is uncomfortable in the modern world. He doesn’t address any of his trauma but he still attempts to move on. However, if they wanted him getting out of the fight and finding life as a civilian to be the natural end to his story arc then there was a way to do it which didn’t require him going back to Peggy. It would have been a better and more satisfying ending if he’d actively chosen to retire because I often see the argument that him going back to Peggy is him finally allowing him to be selfish after shouldering so much over the past decade or more. If Steve chose to retire and put himself first, then that sends a better message. He’s still getting the chance to ‘be selfish’ but he’s not throwing the life he’s built away. At this point in EG, he’s spent a huge portion of his adult life in the modern-day. This isn’t the future for him anymore, it’s the present and he’s lived a life and made real connections with people. The MCU does a piss poor job of showing the interpersonal relationships between the Avengers but he is at least shown to be friends with Sam, Nat, and Bucky.

But he goes back to a delusion. Or an idea of something that was never his in the first place.

When I see people make these videos and share their opinions, I can see their points but it’s like they’re taking EG on its own when that's impossible. Endgame only ‘works’ if you have the context of 10 years’ worth of films. You have to at least be somewhat familiar with the characters, who they are and what they’ve done up until now to be able to make sense of it.

However, in saying that, they wrote and filmed the movie in a way to make you think you didn’t have to take into account anything you’ve seen in the past ten years. If you only watch Endgame, you only see a grieving man mourning the love he never had. You see a man, regretful that he didn’t get to be with woman he loved. So at the end, of course it would make sense that he goes back to her. But you can only do that if you completely divorce Endgame from its ten-year canon and in a franchise like this where they make a big deal about everything being interconnected, it simply doesn’t work. Steve’s story arc in Endgame is incongruous to the narrative arc we’ve been presented in previous films.

Ultimately, Endgame is a movie you’re supposed to watch once and then not think about again. It’s made for that first viewing when everything is shocking and exciting because if you stop to think about it even a little bit, it falls apart under scrutiny.

Finally, I think that the downfall of a lot of these ‘Steve’s ending makes sense’ posts is that made by people who are most certainly MCU fans but not Steve Rogers fans and it shows.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Omg I have an angsty request that I’m sure is going to rip my heart out and light it on fire. It’s a super long and specific request so sorry if I get carried away:

Okay so reader had an unspoken thing in the glade with Gally but then he “died” so over the course of the events of scorch trials she got closer with newt and they start their own unspoken thing. But then in the death cure, newt (realizing he has the flare) starts encouraging her to reconcile with gally because he knows that he’s gonna die and gally will take care of her? But she’s confused on who she loves but kinda clings to what she has with newt because he needs her. And she’s just heart b r o k e n over newt dying but gally helps put her pieces back together in the safe haven and eventually they have their fluffy first time together?

Thanks!

*Fanfare* *Triumphant Music* I finally finished this one! Sorry it took a while, I really wanted this to be perfect. But I think I'm quite happy with how this one turned out! I hope you like it too, sweet Anon. Btw, I know you wanted smut, but I just didn't think it would fit with this one. Sorry, maybe on the next one!

Over 5.2k words, so strap in for a long one y'all

Possible Trigger Warning: Self Harm

~~~~~~~~~~

During your time in the Glade, you were practically attached at the hip with Gally.

He was your best friend, your first go to whenever you had any issues, and you were the same to him.

After his supposed death, you felt a void in your soul. You took on a nihilistic attitude, nothing in life making sense anymore. You didn't care about what happened to you or around you, you wished you had died with Gally, the idea of it being welcomed with open arms.

The thought of dying brought no anxiety, no dread. Even the thought of dying painfully didn't scare you, you wanted it. Everyday you thought about that spear going through Gally's chest, wanting to feel what he must've felt. You wanted to feel the same pain and fear, you wanted to feel like you were dying too.

No rational side of you could explain why you felt this way. Perhaps, if you felt the same pain he felt, maybe it would give some sort of closure. Maybe it would make you feel like you were still close to him, even in death.

It wasn't too long before you decided to act on those feelings. You had been only a knife to your chest, right where your heart was, hyping yourself up to push the blade into your skin.

You didn't want to kill yourself, no. You wanted your death to be natural, not forced. You'd suffer your own existence until your time eventually came like it did for everyone else. But Newt didn't know this when he happened upon you that night, just a couple centimeters of a blade shredding its way into your skin.

Newt panicked, immediately stopping your from hurting yourself, his heart racing at the thought of being too late. But thankfully, he wasn't.

You tried to seem somewhat normal, but the laughter bubbling from your chest couldn't be withheld, making Newt fear that you had lost your mind. He wasn't too far off...

He knew how much Gally's death impacted you, he knew you were in pain every second of every day, but he never thought you'd go so far as hurting yourself. He just silently patched you up, fearing anything he would say from a good place would only upset you further.

Eventually, you explained why you had done what you did. It obviously didn't sit right with Newt. He wasn't particularly close with Gally back in the Glade, but he knew well enough that he wouldn't want you to be living with this mindset.

After a while in the Scorch, you stuck by Newt the most and you started to get better. You felt so empty after Gally's death, leaving a hole in your heart. Newt helped lead you out of that void, trying his best to fit that empty space. But you knew nobody could replace Gally, not even Newt. You knew that space could never be filled, but just seeing Newt try to be that person for you, it was too endearing not to pull at what heartstrings you had left.

Then the complications happened, so much time spent believing that Gally was dead came crashing down as he stood in front of you all, very much not dead.

You thought it had to be a dream, could he really be here?

It was strange. You thought you'd run to him, leap into his arms and kiss all over his face, but you didn't. You stood next to your friends awkwardly as he took off his gas mask. To think you'd be more outwardly happy that someone you cared about was still alive. But you couldn't help the guilt that you felt when Gally said that they left him to die. Sure, it might've not been specifically directed to you, but you felt the sharp sting of his words resonate through you. It almost felt like a strong invisible force hit your funny bone, the volt of uncomfortable aching pain spreading throughout your entire body and leaving you in a breathless agony.

For Gally, he was overjoyed to see you alive and well. He so badly wanted to go to you, feel you in his arms again. But he knew he couldn't, how could he after how he treated everyone back in the Glade?

He didn't remember a lot, but he knew he killed Chuck. The blurry memories of that day, he saw it every night in his dreams. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, the sudden pain in his chest and not being able to breathe. He saw Chuck laying beside him, his expressionless eyes trained on the ceiling, unmoving. His chest wasn't rising and falling like it should've been, blood seeping through his layers of clothing. The most purest soul Gally ever met was dead, and it was his fault.

Gally couldn't even bring himself to look in your direction, he was too disgusted with himself.

Thomas punching Gally wasn't a big shock, he knew he deserved it. But Newt quickly came to his rescue, stopping Thomas from acting out irrationally. But a part of Gally didn't want the Greenie to be stopped. Being punched wasn't something he enjoyed, but Gally would willingly endure whatever punishment that would be inflicted and he'd accept that he deserved it. But nothing he could do or say would bring Chuck back...

When Gally did finally force himself to look at you, he wish he hadn't. You looked indifferent, which never happened with you. He instantly thought that you hated him as much as Thomas did, but then again, he deserved it.

It was really tough for Gally to keep a conversation with everyone while he took them to see Lawrence, especially when he noticed how close you stuck by Newt. But, he supposed it was only natural to find another person to be close to when you've lost someone else, he still couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. He hated how good you and Newt looked together, you seemed...happy.

At the moment, you weren't even close to happy; you were confused, and angry.

It sounded terrible, but a part of you was angry that Gally was actually still alive. You had to go through the mourning process, and you hadn't even finished it and now all of a sudden, he was alive all this time. It put your emotions on haywire, the most you felt was confusion, and if someone would've told you what you were experiencing was some sort of a twisted dream, you would believe them. But your feet were too sore and sunburn too irritating for this all to be a dream.

You sensed Newt's eyes trained on you, you knew he was probably worried, but you couldn't decide what for. Was he worried that you'd go back to Gally? Was he worried you'd replace him now that he was still alive? Knowing Newt, he probably just wanted to talk to you, but even then, you would have no idea what to say. What do people feel or say in situations like this? You were certain not everyone has to go through the loss of a loved one just to find out that they weren't gone, right?

It was late, and you were exhausted, as was everyone else; but you stayed awake, attempting to sleep only causing you to toss and turn, and eventually giving up. But someone else was awake, you were shocked to see that it was Newt. "What're doing awake?" He asked, taking a seat next to you.

"Could ask you the same thing." You replied, only getting a look from Newt in response. "Couldn't sleep." You sighed, caving in to his concerned expression.

"I know it's not my place," Newt started, wringing his hands together nervously, "but, you haven't said a word to Gally." You knew he was going to bring that up, you had that feeling as soon as he saw you were still awake. "I know it was a shock, to all of us. But I thought it'd effect you the most, to be quite honest. You two were pretty close..."

You shrugged weakly, shaking your head. "I don't know what to tell you. Was I supposed to react a certain way? Was I supposed to drop to my knees and burst into tears or something?"

Newt grimaced. "No...of course you're not supposed to act a certain way. It's just a bit strange to me that you haven't tried to speak to him at all."

"I don't even know what I'd say to him." You chuckled bitterly.

"I know you and Gally had something, something special. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. You were absolutely gutted after what happened, this is a chance to reconnect. You care about him, a lot."

"Hey, that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I care about you a lot too."

Newt smiled weakly. "I know, but I really think you should go and talk to him."

You could tell he was being sincere, but you couldn't understand why. You two had grown close over the past several months, so why would he want you to reconnect with someone you used to be even closer with? You weren't really given the time to think over it more before Newt was quickly encouraging you to speak with Gally, telling you where his room was, somehow knowing this conversation would happen and finding out beforehand.

Just a few moments later, you found yourself outside of Gally's door, fist extended out to hover over the worn wood, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock. Thinking back to how hard you tried to avoid Gally when he came back, what if he thought you hated him? What if he didn't want to talk to you?

But before you could chicken out, you forced yourself to knock on Gally's door without thinking, soon hearing the thud of footsteps nearing. With bated breath, you waited for the door to open, anxiety gripping your mind so intensely that it almost triggered your fight or flight response. But Gally's almost hopeful and shocked expression when he saw you waiting relaxed you a little bit. "...hi." Gally voiced, the nervous and confused tone to his voice not going unnoticed by you.

"Hi." You replied, your voice probably just as shaky and nervous as his.

"Uh, come in." He said quickly, moving out of the doorframe, his hands slightly shaking when he motioned you to enter his room.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, so fast and hard that you were worried Gally would be able to hear it. Your hands were shaking, as well as your legs as you walked into his room, it was a miracle you didn't collapse right then and there. You tried not to jump as you heard the click of his door closing, you tried to take deep calming breaths before Gally turned to face you, the two of you almost on complete opposite sides of the room just standing awkwardly.

You stared at Gally, your gaze running up and down his body but ultimately stopping to stare at his chest. Tears quickly came to your eyes as you saw how healthy he looked, like a spear wasn't embedded in his chest months ago. You couldn't stop the flow of whimpers that came from your throat, putting your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. You felt your face start to burn as you felt Gally's arms wrap around you as soon as you started to cry, but his warmth comforting you only caused you to let out more tears.

You never thought you'd be in his arms again.

Gally stood there silently, holding you and just trying to soothe you as best he could. In the back of his mind, he was astonished that you even let him come near you, you had avoided him altogether up until this moment. But the whimpers he heard coming from you, seeing the tears spilling from your eyes, he instinctively went to hug you. He also couldn't ignore the guilt he felt, thinking that you were crying because of him. He hated it. But you hugged him back tightly, burying your face in his chest and trying to stifle your sobs.

"You're here..." You cried softly, "you're really here..."

Gally's lip trembled, tears of his own brimming his eyes at how much pain you must've been in thinking he was dead all this time, your voice giving away your feelings. He exhaled shakily, "I am here." He placed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm here."

For a few minutes, you and Gally just held each other silently. You both needed this, understanding how badly you missed one another. Soon, you were able to calm yourself, but you still didn't pull away. Gally only pulled away slightly so he could see your face, frowning when he saw your eyes were puffy and tearstained. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. "What happened wasn't your fault, Gally." You said genuinely. No matter how much pain and anger you felt about what happened to Chuck, you never once blamed him. You knew W.C.K.D. killed him, and every other Glader who died. But Gally's frown told you everything you needed to know; he still blamed himself.

"I should've gone with you." He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "How can you even stand the sight of me?"

"Because I know you never would've killed anyone if you weren't stung, especially Chuck."

Hearing Chuck's name out loud made tears brim Gally's eyes once more, tightening his fists in anger at himself. "Chuck deserved so much better...he wasn't supposed to die..." He cried, causing you to pull him back into your embrace, rubbing his back while trying to not to cry again.

"None of us deserved to get experimented on."

Eventually, you lead Gally to sit next to you on his bed, holding his hand. It felt so right to be sitting there with Gally, you missed him so much that you despised ever feeling even the slightest bit of anger when you first saw that Gally was alive. But one emotion did not go away, you still felt confused.

While sitting there with Gally, you couldn't help but think about Newt. He was so adamant about you reconciling with Gally, was he hoping that something would happen between you two? You truly cared a lot about Newt, and you knew he felt the same way, so you couldn't understand why he was acting this way.

You sighed softly when you started to feel sleepy, standing up slowly. "I should probably head back."

Gally quickly stood up with you. "Uh, you could stay here if you want?" He stammered, causing you to smile a little.

"That's okay. I already had a sleeping bag set up for me downstairs, so..."

Gally tried to hide his disappointed frown, choosing to walk up to you until you two were face to face. Maybe it was too soon, but ever since he saw you, Gally had the strongest urge to place his lips on yours. He missed your soft lips that he only had the privilege of feeling a few times back in the Glade before everything happened. He gently grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your face up and leaning forward slowly.

You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. But before his lips could connect, Newt's face popped up in your mind and you couldn't, you forced yourself to turn away.

You tried not to look at Gally's face, knowing that he'd probably look like a kicked puppy. You couldn't, it would be too painful. "It's Newt." Gally frowned, taking a step back.

Your eyes widened, finally taking a glance over to him to indeed see that his expression was one of disappointment and sadness. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to." Gally interrupted. "I see the way you look at him...it's how you used to look at me." You stayed silent, a feeling of guilt washing over you. "I don't blame you, Y/n, for finding someone else. I'd never expect you to grieve over me forever, that's too selfish."

Hearing this, you had a terrifying thought that you needed to voice out loud. "Did you ever find someone else?" You asked nervously, afraid of his answer.

"No..." He smiled weakly, "No one that could ever compare to you."

You hated that you felt relieved, you were the one who seemed to be selfish. But, you couldn't just drop what you had with Newt now that Gally's still alive. You couldn't say anything else, what could you say to that?

"You should get some sleep." Gally said, opening his door and motioning you to get out.

"Gally..." You whispered.

"Please. Just...we have a busy day tomorrow."

You sighed. You couldn't argue with him.

Newt watched you walk back downstairs, getting into your sleeping bag with a very prominent frown. Doesn't seem like it went well, he thought. He felt relieved and frustrated at the same time. Newt really cared for you, he could even go as far as saying he loved you, but he needed you and Gally to get back together, or become friends again at least.

It wasn't too long ago that Newt found out he had the Flare. He saw the black and purple veins slowly travelling up his arm, and the pain, the pain was the worst part. You had already gotten close to him, so he was heartbroken to know that you'd just lose another person you cared for. After Gally, he knew you wouldn't be able to handle another loss. So when Gally showed up out of the blue, it was like a miracle, Newt's prayers had been answered.

Newt felt jealousy, of course, he wanted to stay with you. He didn't want Gally to take you from him, but what use would he be when he was dead or a Crank? He tried not to be angry with you, it wasn't your fault how you were feeling, but he needed to know you'd be okay when he was gone.

Newt did try talking to you about it, but you always changed the subject or simply didn't answer him. Before you all knew it, it was time to start planning Minho's rescue mission. Thomas didn't want to use Teresa, and hearing that only made Newt's anger bubble to the surface.

It wasn't like Newt to lash out like that, he was always so calm and relaxed. Maybe the stress finally got to him, maybe it was something else...

You immediately followed after Newt when he stormed out after yelling at Thomas, not knowing that Gally's sad eyes were following you. You couldn't think of anything else, you just had to know that Newt was okay.

You found Newt on the roof, sitting on the ledge. "Newt?" You asked, concerned. "Are you okay...?" You stepped closer captiously, finally taking a seat next to him.

Newt only smiled bitterly. "No...no, not really."

You sighed, looking out to the horizon, trying to find the right words to say. "We all thought Teresa was our friend...it's okay to be angry."

Newt shook his head. "It's not that."

You furrowed your brows. "Then, why did you lash out at Thomas?"

Newt bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He never wanted you to find out this way. He didn't even want you to know. But after that scene he made, he knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.

Tears came to your eyes as Newt lifted up his jacket sleeve, revealing his discolored arm. You knew what it was immediately, seeing it on every Crank you came across. "No..." You whispered. "No."

"I know I probably shouldn't have kept it from you, but I was scared. I still am."

"We'll fix it!" You quickly said, it sounding more like a plead. "We'll find another cure!"

Newt only gave you a weak smile. "I don't think that's a possibility right now, love. Besides, Minho needs us."

"No, you're not allowed to give up like that, Newt. We'll find something to help you. If Brenda was cured, so can you. Teresa might-"

"Please, Y/n." Newt voiced sharply. "Please...just stop. I don't need false hope."

Before you could say anything else, you heard the roof access door open, Thomas walking up to the two of you. "Y/n, can I, uh, talk to Newt? Alone?"

You looked to Newt, who nodded, signaling for you to leave. You stood up, speed walking inside and down the stairs. The tears kept falling, blurring your vision, and you had no idea what to do. Newt was dying, and there was nothing that you could do about it, and it didn't seem like he was too eager to try and find a cure. You hoped Thomas could talk some sense into him. But in that moment, your feet subconsciously took you to Gally's little apartment. You stood in front of the door in tears, wishing that you didn't feel the urge to find comfort in him when Newt was sick. But, you knocked on the door, quickly placing yourself in Gally's arms as soon as he was in front of you.

Gally didn't know what was wrong, he barely got a good look at your face before you threw yourself at him. But the way you were shaking and whimpering, he knew you were crying, and he didn't have the heart to pull away from you. He walked backwards and shut his door, leading you to sit down on his bed with him. He just held you as you cried, leaning his head down on top of yours until you calmed down. He finally spoke when your cries were just quiet sniffles. "What happened?"

You exhaled a shaky breath, lifting your head to look at Gally. "Newt has the Flare..."

"W-What...?" Had Gally heard that right? Could his mind be playing tricks on him? He just assumed everyone that was in the Glade was immune, that's why they were there, right? But you repeated what you had said, confirming what Gally thought he heard. "I...I'm so sorry..." That's all Gally could say. He wasn't very well spoken in these types of situations, all he could do was bring you back into another hug.

You finally understood why Newt was pushing you to get close to Gally again; he wanted you to be close to someone when he died.

Yet another situation that had you confused. You knew you loved Gally, you always had, he was your best friend. But now you had Newt, he helped you through everything while in the Scorch, helped you try to overcome your grieve and probably saved your life multiple times. How could you possibly make a decision like this?

You and Gally never put a label on what you had in the Glade, and nobody asked either, not even Alby. You both just knew that you cared for one another, that you'd do anything for the other. But as time went on, you felt guilty knowing what you'd ultimately choose. It was always going to be a lose lose for you.

Newt needed you, and you couldn't leave him when he needed you the most.

Gally, deep down, knew what your decision was going to be. You had a big heart. You never would leave anyone behind, even if they were infected. Back in the Glade, Gally wouldn't have hesitated in sacrificing the few to save the many, but you were never like that. You cared about everyone, especially the people who were closest to you. You never were going to give up on Newt, you couldn't now. You would spend as much time with him as possible, what little time he might've had left. And you did, until he took his final breath.

You felt like you were a glass vase that had been shattered, and every time you tried to pick up the pieces, the glass would just cut deeper and deeper into your skin. It felt like life didn't want you to be put back together. Nothing felt real. Everything that happened in the Last City felt like a fever dream. You hoped that one day you'd wake up and you'd be back in the Glade, everyone was still alive. Maybe if you could go back in time, maybe you could save everyone, maybe you could've convinced Gally to listen to Thomas, maybe you could've held off Newt a bit longer in time for Brenda to give him the cure.

A lot of maybe's, a lot of hopes and prayers, never answered.

Now in the Safe Haven, you felt anything but safe.

You didn't talk to anyone for awhile, not even Gally. You had nothing to say, and you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone. So, you isolated yourself. And then a couple weeks later, you finally felt everything bubble to the surface.

Sitting down somewhere along the coastline, not too close to the water, but close enough that you could feel the salty breeze of the waves hit you gently as the evening cooled when the sun started to go set.

You tucked yourself up into a ball, your knees as close as you could get them to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. And, you cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. The ugly kind of crying. Your tears weren't coming out one eye at a time in a perfectly straight line down your face like in the movies, you weren't making quiet sniffles or whimpers, you were full on sobbing. Tears came out of your eyes so fast that you could barely make out the sun on the horizon, your shirt sleeves were most definitely covered in snot and whatever salty tears it had the chance to catch. Your throat felt like it was being torn apart by how intense your sobs were. The sobs sounded more like you were having a coughing fit, one of those phlegmy hacking coughs that made you feel like you were going to vomit.

You knew you most likely weren't far enough away from the camp to quiet your weeping, and you knew you were just embarrassing yourself, arranging for yourself to be completely humiliated the next morning when you had to face everybody. But in the moment, you couldn't care less. You loss someone so important to you, it felt like losing Gally all over again. But you knew this time, it was final. No surprise resurrections this time. You felt completely, and utterly, alone.

But you never were.

You felt so dissociated and detached from yourself, the wails of grief too much for your body to handle. You couldn't feel anything around you, not the warmth of the sand, not the slight chill breeze, not even Gally's arms wrapped around you tightly. You didn't realize until you passed out from exhaustion, waking up the next morning in a bed that wasn't yours, and a hut that wasn't yours.

Your vision was still a little bit blurry, all the tears from the night previous crusting to the creases around your eyes, making it a bit of a challenge opening them all the way. But, your other sense were intact enough to tell you that bacon and eggs were next to you on a bedside table. You hadn't eaten the day before, so it was mostly a primal reaction to quickly take the plate and gobble up the food.

You still had to rely on context clues to figure out where you were in the camp. As much as your eyes irritated you, they could now finally work once you were wide awake. You probably should've known immediately who's hut it was, but seeing that familiar grey knitted hoodie settled ungracefully over the backrest of a chair, you knew it was Gally's.

You blushed quickly after that realization. How did he know where you were, and how much did he see? The thought of him seeing you in such a state made you cringe. But what was more horrifying was that Gally was right outside the room, waiting for you to wake up. "Hey..." He voiced, his eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes full of sadness.

You had to look away, the heat rushing to your face making you feel like you were going to pass out again. "Hi." You croaked, your vocal cords still sore and raw.

Gally shifted his weight nervously, taking a step closer to you. "I'm sorry, for bringing you here...I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself." You snapped you gaze back to him in confusion, him quickly blushing, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, Newt told me about what you did to yourself after...after the Maze."

You self-consciously rubbed the spot on your chest where a big scar still remained. "I wasn't trying to...you know, kill myself or anything."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He said softly, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "I just...I didn't know what I was thinking."

Gally gently grabbed ahold of your hand, making you uncross your arms, letting his warm hand take yours. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Newt should be here with the rest of us. He was a good person."

You nodded as tears came to your eyes again, burning enough to make you whimper, and you leaned your head against Gally's shoulder. "I miss him so much." You cried.

Eventually, you and Gally became close again. He was always there for you. Whenever you had nightmares, whenever you were lonely, whenever you needed anything, Gally would always be there. You started to feel your relationship had almost gotten back to the point where it was in the Glade, it had been almost a year, but you still felt it was too early to be moving on. A part of you didn't want to move on, but you knew that's not what Newt wanted either.

You didn't read the note Newt wrote to you when Thomas first gave it to you. The grief was still too near, and you didn't know if you could handle it. But a couple months after your breakdown, you finally read it. Newt loved you, he had always loved you. And he wanted you to be happy, he didn't want you to be sad that he was gone, even though he knew it would be impossible. But he knew you would be okay, he knew Gally would protect you no matter what. Reading his note was part of the reason you knew it would be okay to be with Gally, it just took you some time.

One day, you and Gally were taking a break from working, just sitting near the forest tree line, and you did it; you kissed him, and you couldn't stop, you didn't want to stop. And you didn't, and neither did Gally.

After that, it was almost impossible to spend any time away from each other.

You never thought you'd smile again, but Gally always found a way. He made you so happy, and it made you cry one night when you finally realized that you were happy, and you knew somewhere out there, it made Newt happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cries in Español

[delimeful]

you can’t go back (4)

warnings: mentioned child neglect/bad parenting, mentioned awkward saucy teen flirting, arguing, emotional upset, the dubious ethics of over-excited teenagers

-

Roman had been acting strange, lately.

It was perhaps a harsh thing to think about his friend, especially considering he was bound to behave differently when the recent disappearance of his twin was taken into account, but it was also true.

Logan had known Roman for years, long enough that it was an effort to search back through his memories for a point that they hadn’t been together, if perhaps not always in the most amicable of circumstances. They’d gone through the entire gamut of enemies-frenemies-rivals-friends, and Logan liked to think that he had a fair grasp on Roman’s tells by this point.

All of Roman’s tells were currently telling him that the other student was trying to hide something, something big.

It wasn’t just the way that he had stopped sulking whenever something happened that reminded him of his missing brother, or that he was suddenly scrawling what almost seemed like notes in a glitter-covered notebook when he hadn’t had the inspiration to work on anything creative in weeks, or that he had all but given up on the pretense of paying attention in their shared classes.

No, the real sign that something was wrong was the way that Roman had begun to outright neglect his two closest friends.

Logan was hardly affected, of course. He was above the base emotions that so many of his peers were constantly fraught with, and less time with Roman gushing in his ear about whatever had caught his interest or complaining dramatically about those who had wronged him meant more time for Logan to focus on what was important, like his AP classes and many, many extracurriculars.

Of course, that didn’t explain why he was currently trailing after Roman on his walk home, when he really should be at violin practice. No matter how much of a soft spot the teacher had for him, he’d gained his skill through hard work, not skipping practice. Certainly not skipping practice to hound off after his erstwhile classmate.

However, he wasn’t the only one being abandoned in this scenario.

Logan Croft had been forced to sit at a lunch table with an increasingly secretive and distant Roman, and a mournful, kicked-puppy version of Patton Hertz, the most cheerful guy in their grade, if not the entire school.

Roman, stuck in his own thoughts as he clearly was, seemed to not notice the effect his lacking presence had had on Patton, and Logan was just about fed up of watching the slow decay of the half life of their little group.

The secrecy was ridiculous. They’d been there when Roman had been so worked up about the ‘police coverup’ that he’d actually considered trying to break into a government building, they could certainly be here for whatever it was that had him so bizarrely clammed up now!

Logan paused from a distance and watched as Roman hurried in through the front door of his house, counting backwards in his head. It would be a fair challenge to try and break into Roman’s room, particularly with Roman in the house, but if his deductions about the seeds constantly caught on his friend’s pant legs and the odd-colored mud left on the soles of his favorite tennis shoes were correct… There!

Sure enough, only a few moments later, Roman was pushing out through the back door, taking an unusually careful moment to close the screen door behind him before turning and walking determinedly down the path into the rural wilderness that made up half of the grounds his family’s farm sat on.

Logan waited until there was little chance that Roman would double back for something he’d forgotten, and then strode confidently up to the front door, rapping on it twice. Going by the fact that there was a car in the driveway and the door had been unlocked when Roman had gotten home from school, someone else was home to answer.

Mrs. Torres opened the door, looking surprised at the sight of him for a moment, before breaking out into a warm smile. “Logan! It’s so good to see you, are you here for Roman?”

“I’ve been meaning to meet up with him for a project, but he left school before me, so I came here,” Logan said, not above lying through omission to uncover the truth. “Is he home?”

“Oh, he just got back, but I don’t think he’s inside-- ROMAN!” she turned towards the stairs and called up them, frowning when there was no response. “He must be out in the yard again. Come in, come in!”

Logan stepped inside smugly, glancing around. The interior was much the same as the last time he’d been here. If it hadn’t been for the pile of faded missing posters under a mug on the counter and his own prior knowledge of the situation, Logan would have been hard-pressed to guess that this was the home of a recently-vanished child.

“Honestly, I’m just glad he’s not staying cooped up in his room anymore,” Mrs. Torres was saying. The woman speaking casually in front of him only added to the eerie composure of the home, and Logan made his way through the general pleasantries and politely refused any refreshments with an unpleasant feeling in his gut.

“They didn’t even bother printing out new missing posters this time,” he remembered Roman telling them with a quiet, bitter sort of anger. “He dyed his hair, and they won’t even pay to put a recent picture of him up when it could be the difference between someone recognizing him or not!”

On a logical level, Logan can understand something concerning happening over and over, repetition dulling it’s effects until it feels mundane or everyday. Roman has mentioned before how his parents believed that Remus was simply acting out for attention, mostly while thanking Roman for being above that, as though the metaphorical ‘good twin’ wasn’t currently building a career on literally acting for an audience's attention.

What Logan can’t understand is that Remus’s parents are apparently completely uninterested in finding out why Remus is so desperate for attention that he would resort to a maneuver he knows will only get him negative consequences.

Logan himself would certainly like to understand. All queries on the matter had garnered only uncomfortable evasion from Roman, as though his friend might have had an idea but wouldn’t say, likely due to irritating personal feelings that Logan couldn’t parse.

So, he’d reached out to Remus directly, on one of the few days that he’d actually attended classes.

The delinquent had been visibly confused by his approach-- the twins allegedly hadn’t had a mutual friend since the beginning of grade school-- and resistant to Logan’s questioning, which Patton had later informed him was likely far too blunt for the situation. They’d gone in circles for a bit, Remus making outlandish or confusing metaphors while Logan refused to rise to the bait, and then he’d made a simple observation about the hypocrisy of the twins’ parents, and Remus had stared at him with an odd tilt to his head for a moment.

Shortly after, he had made a very confusing comment about something that was anatomically impossible, and when Logan had enquired further, Remus had then hared off with pink cheeks and ditched school for a week. He’d asked Roman about the situation, but his friend had only covered his ears with an agonized look on his face, utterly refusing to explain.

Logan shook the errant thought away, and the odd pang of something like regret that Remus had vanished before he could follow up on the interesting interaction.

He turned his gaze away from the unharried setting. The odd dynamic between the Torres family was not what he was here to investigate, not even remotely.

There was only one Torres he was investigating right now, and he had a strong suspicion that his odd behavior had less to do with family than one might expect.

“Go on ahead, I’m sure he’ll hear you once you get out back,” Mrs. Torres encouraged, picking up a particularly irritated-looking calico cat. “Just have to make sure Lady Macbeth doesn’t escape and disturb your little session. Roman’s been worried about coyotes, so we’ve been keeping her inside.”

Logan nodded, though privately he was a little surprised. Coyotes? He hadn’t thought they would be so bold as to lurk at a farm this close to urban areas. Perhaps there had been sightings near here?

He pushed past the creaky screen door with a striking sense of familiarity, despite the fact that it had been quite a while since the three of them had gone wandering together in the foliage and dirt of the Torres farm. Patton’s allergies could be quite fierce, after all.

As expected, walking into the backyard revealed no signs of Roman, even when Logan cleared his throat and called out. He knew his friend well enough to know that he would have reacted audibly to his unexpected presence, so the only logical conclusion was that he wasn’t nearby.

Clearly, it was time to check the perimeter.

He walked in a careful, orderly line next to the old wooden fence, eyeing the peeling paint and refraining from setting his hand on it. He had more to worry about than potential splinters, such as keeping an eye out for any potential strangeness that could explain Roman’s behavior.

There was little to be found in the brush except a regrettable amount of sandburs catching along the hem of his pants, so when he spotted the barn, he felt a surge of excitement.

And if he indulged in a little bit of sneaking, hoping to catch his quarry unaware, that was his business. Roman was loud enough that he could hear him ranting a good few meters from the barn, anyhow.

He managed to make it all the way to the edge of the barn wall before the rant abruptly cut off, and he stalked forwards hurriedly, pushing the door open before Roman could hide anything incriminating.

He needn’t have worried: the evidence was standing there in the middle of the barn, strapped to a support rafter.

It also wasn’t human.

“What are you doing here?” Roman shrilled, taking a quick step to be in front of the creature. It was an ineffective method of hiding it, seeing as what appeared to be long, spider-like limbs were extending in the air a good few meters in either direction behind him.

Logan had known about Roman’s theory, the one that had been laughed right out of the police station. He’d walked with Roman and scoured the fields for any sign of what Remus had mentioned, though they hadn’t found anything. He knew his friend still believed that his twin’s disappearance had been unnatural, extraterrestrial.

Knowing was quite different from seeing an entire alien right in front of oneself.

Roman was still talking, in that nervous chattering tone that he always took on when he was working himself into a truly incomprehensible explanation, but Logan could hardly be asked to divide his attention at the moment.

Extra anterior eyes, odd shiny patches along the sides of the neck, exterior hinges along the jaw, organic plating that had visibly darkened since his first glance-- there was so much that he needed to understand the purpose of, so many questions he had about their origins. How close by was other life? Which star had they hailed from? How had they gotten here?

He was moving forwards without a second thought, enthralled by the way the legs rose up-- like a bird mantling their wings, and they appeared smooth, not hairy as an actual spider’s would be.

“Incredible,” he breathed, and then there was a hand fisted in the back of his polo and he was being yanked away. Where he’d just stood, all four of the strange limbs stabbed into the ground, their reach longer and their ends sharper than he’d anticipated.

There must have been an extra joint closer to their back, the flexible kind that would allow for such an extension. He itched to circle around and look for himself, to confirm his hypothesis before the limbs retracted, but Roman was still clinging to him like a shrieking barnacle.

“What did I just say?!” he demanded, gearing up for a scolding. “It’s not friendly! Do you want to get stabbed into next week?”

“How long have you been keeping an actual alien life form from the world at large? From scientists at large? From me?” Logan shot back, shaking Roman’s grip loose. “Have you had them strapped upright this entire time? Can they talk? How did this even happen?”

Even as he demanded an explanation, his gaze was drawn back over to the alien, taking in their every twitch with endless curiosity. He wanted to know how to read each motion, from the downturn of their chin to the scrunching of their smaller eyes to the way the flat plates where a mouth should be had seemed to twitch. He wanted to know everything.

“It’s been like a week, I didn’t strap them up they came like that, either they don’t speak English or they’re a really good actor, and they showed up in my barn after Remus was abducted, you do the math!” Roman rushed out, edging closer as though he thought Logan was about to try and get closer to the alien again. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew you would do this!”

“This is hardly the first time I’ve almost been stabbed in the pursuit of science,” Logan retorted, annoyed at the presumption that he wouldn’t risk his life for his goals.

“It’s only a little bit about the near-stabbing!” Roman’s voice cracked, and Logan finally pulled the other half of his attention away from the alien to stare. “This is my only lead on my brother, and you’re going to want to-- to-- to put it in a laboratory or National Geographic Magazine or something!”

“I’d be far more likely to write a thesis paper on the matter,” Logan corrected helpfully. Roman’s hands twitched, the body language possibly indicating that he was barely restraining himself from trying to throttle Logan.

“Whatever! The point is, this isn’t a science experiment to me!” His rival’s face was crumpling slightly at the edges. “You can’t just-- just use the alien I found as a ticket to get into some esteemed college while Remus is left to rot in the far reaches of outer space!”

To Logan’s horror, Roman’s eyes had become suspiciously shiny. He floundered for a moment, wishing Patton was there to smooth things over as he so often did, before firming his shoulders and lifting his chin. He could at least try to explain, and hope it didn’t turn out too badly.

“I’m not going to ‘leave Remus to rot,’” Logan started, remembering the recycled missing posters stacked up on the counter. “If you believe that this alien is key to finding out what happened to him, then that should be-- well, our first priority should always be furthering the advancement of human understanding, especially with a discovery as big as this, but I am an accomplished multitasker, so we can do that while we attempt to locate and recover Remus.”

Roman’s shoulders slowly loosened from their frustrated hunch. “You’re going to help me? Seriously?”

“Do you really think I’d joke?” Logan replied, gesturing to his tie. “The more information we compile on this specimen, the better we’ll understand them, and the closer we’ll be to understanding the motives behind Remus’s abduction.”

“And you aren’t going to tell anyone?” Roman asked, looking more hopeful by the moment.

“Why would I? I work more effectively on projects on my own,” Logan answered, the same sentence that had sparked a loud argument between him and Roman in the middle of Biology two years ago. This time, however, Roman looked excited rather than offended at the response. “We really should figure out something to tell Patton, though.”

“That’s… a good idea,” Roman admitted sheepishly. “There’s no way we can let him around an unknown alien fiend, especially not one so… spider-y. You almost got stabbed, imagine what it might do to poor Patton!”

“You handle our story,” Logan decided, turning to look back at the alien fully. “I’ll see what we can do about those extra limbs. We won’t be able to do any sort of up-close analysis with a constant threat hovering over us.”

He straightened his tie, studying the way the extra limbs in question were vibrating just slightly in the air, drawn in significantly closer to the alien's body than they had been before. Despite the movement of the legs, the alien themself was still as stone, all of their attention locked on Logan.

Through observation and experimentation, he was sure that each little motion of theirs would soon become as readable to him as everyday human body language, and from there, real communication would be in reach.

Communication with an extraterrestrial... This would truly be a project like no other.

Fueled by a thrill of excitement, Logan couldn't help but smile.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting Part 2

Hoodie

The area where you lived had a ton of back alleyways that acted as shortcuts in a pinch. They were generally safe but you often got an uncomfortable feeling when using them so you preferred to take the busier roads if you could.

Unfortunately, when you had gone to leave work that day, you had spotted the customer who had been harassing you the entire day. It wasn’t anything creepy but it was over-the-top persistent and you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You slipped out the backdoor as a result. At least you’d get home sooner.

For the most part, you didn’t encounter anything too suspicious and the light from the streets illuminated where you were going.

The large bins outside the grocer’s home indicated that you were getting close. You sped up and rubbed your eyes blearily.

Ahead of you, a dog was barking from inside one of the buildings. It was a pretty noisy animal and you began peering around to see what the source of its agitation was. Ironically, you ended up bumping directly into him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, rubbing your shoulder.

The guy was tall, wearing dark clothing and standing right in the shadows. You could have probably noticed him if you were a little more awake.

He turned and your breath caught.

His face was obscured by a dark mask with red features stitched onto it. His hoodie which originally seemed dark was now illuminated into a soft yellow or orange, stained with a dark substance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice crackled out, clearly coming through a voice changer of some kind.

“I – I was just taking a shortcut home. I live near here so I thought… I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m super tired.”

“Tired or not, you shouldn’t have seen me,” the guy said. “Do you have a phone or a camera?”

Slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I don’t have any cash in my wallet –“

“I don’t want your money!” he snapped. “I’m not some petty thief, believe me, I have better things to do with me time. Unlock this.”

You did so and he went through it with a gloved hand. He didn’t have a weapon but something in your gut warned you to just go along with it. Nobody covered up everything, including their voice, when they were up to something good. This guy may not be a thief… but the alternative didn’t feel too much better.

He shoved your phone back at you. “Get out of here and don’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood today.”

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you?”

“I’m serious,” he warned. “I can let you go just because you seem pathetic enough to not take this to the police but unless you want to catch a bullet in your back, you’ll keep quiet. My boss doesn’t like people getting involved with this nonsense.”

“A bullet?”

He didn’t answer and your heart thundered in your chest. Part of you wondered if he was going to kill you while you ran away but his attention seemed to have moved away from you. You hurried away, holding your breath the entire time. Every time you glanced over your shoulder, the guy remained unmoving.

When you reached your home, you locked the door tightly and slumped against it in exhaustion.

Homicidal Liu

The sunset was beautiful over the graveyard – the only beauty to an otherwise morbid place.

You stared at the purples and oranges dancing across the sky. The wreath pricked at your hands after a while and you stared down at it. Why did you still bother with bringing flowers? Hadn’t it been long enough? Still, you made your way down to the grave and placed them there, not even bothering to read the name on there.

Lately, your graveyard visits had becoming fewer and fewer. Time hadn’t been on your side recently and thus, your precious solitude had to suffer. You relished in the way that nobody really bothered you here.

An orange glow warned you when the streetlights came on. Perhaps you had been there for longer than you thought but this was to be your last visit.

Better to make it count.

Something caught in the wind made you raise your head. A piece of fabric was stuck in the nearby fence, identifiable as a scarf when you ventured closer.

You took it from the fence and looked around for its owner. Nobody was in view… maybe it had been blown off one of the graves? It did seem homemade.

Guessing, you began to place it on a grave when a voice startled you.

“I’m sorry to bother but I think you have my scarf?”

The man was standing far too close for you to have not seen him when you were glancing around but you blamed that on your night vision. He wore dark clothing and seemed awkward just to be speaking to you.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was just going to leave it on one of the graves because I didn’t know who it belonged to.”

He thanked you for it, wrapping it around the lower half of his face almost immediately. “That would be a waste,” he said. “Especially to leave it on this one. Thank you for grabbing it.”

A harsh wind blew through the graveyard, carrying with it the smell of an incoming storm. He grabbed his scarf just in time to prevent it from going flying away again.

“Seems like the weather is determined to steal it from you.”

“Far more powerful things have tried.”

You buried yourself further into your jacket and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new in town or just coming to visit a new grave?”

“I’m not visiting a grave,” he admitted. “I just thought that this would be the way back to my house… I grew up in this town but only recently moved back and I’m already lost. It’s a little embarrassing if I’m honest.”

“Well, I like to know everybody,” you said. “What’s your name?”

“Su – I mean, Liu,” he said. “Liu. Sorry, I nearly gave you my surname.”

You laughed. “Oh that’s no problem. It’s nice to meet you but I really like your name. Is it Chinese?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked around and began walking away. “I really have to go. Thank you for getting my scarf and all that.”

“I’ll see you around,” you said with a wave.

It was only later when you realised how suspicious that entire interaction was. You had never seen Liu before in your life and he was just hanging around in the graveyard? He hadn’t seemed too creepy at least. Maybe you would see more of him in the coming days.

Jane the Killer

It wasn’t that you were unobservant or inattentive toward girls but nobody had really caught your eye until Jane.

She was stunning in a way that few people could ever match with dark hair that tumbled past her hips and soulful eyes. Her walk was always confident, her smile always perfect, and her attention always desirable. Your main regret about life was that you didn’t speak to her sooner – especially when you thought back on what happened not too long after your first meeting.

You organised with your friends to somehow bump into her but instead, you wound up getting treated for a pretty painful bruised hip. Your second plan didn’t work out either and your third never even left the drawing board.

“Just go up to her and say hi. Tell her that she’s beautiful,” your friend encouraged. “She’ll say thanks and then you’ll be able to talk to her.”

“That’s so boring though,” you said. “It’s not like something out of a romance novel.”

Your friend groaned and stood up. “Well, I’m going home. We have like three months left of high school and I’m not going to spend that time obsessing over how to speak to a girl. She’s literally a regular person.”

They were right and you knew that. No matter how you tried to set up a sweeping romance, it probably wouldn’t work out.

So you tried.

And you tried.

Two weeks later, you were about to give up on mimicking a romance novel and it appeared that your friend was thinking the same thing. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you somewhere, muttering about changing the topic. You had a vague idea of where you were going but you didn’t fight too much.

“What if she’s still dating that Woods boy?” you asked. “The older one.”

“They broke up after literally a month of dating. I don’t blame her – those Woods boys are pretty enough but the older one has something seriously wrong with him. And the younger one is always talking to himself…”

“I really don’t care about the Woods’,” you commented.

“No, you care about Jane who is honestly quite weird as well,” they said. “But that is going to be your problem and not mine.”

They dragged you directly up to her group. It wasn’t large – despite Jane’s beauty, she wasn’t incredibly popular due to her associations. Your friend wasn’t the only one who was a little scared of the Woods boys and Jane had hung out with them for quite a while.

“Hey,” your friend said before even letting you go. “You have no idea who we are but my friend here has a massive crush on you. Could you please just say hi so they can get it out of their system?”

You were sure that it was unhealthy to be as red as you were. It felt like your heart was about to leap from your chest.

Jane laughed, a soft and gentle sound. “I’m not really interested in a relationship,” she hummed. “But thank you. That’s very flattering.”

Somehow, your heart sped up still and you awkwardly rubbed your arm. “No problem?”

“Why don’t you join us for a little bit?” Jane offered. “Just because I don’t want to date anybody doesn’t mean that we can’t become friends. You look like my kind of person.”

You stumbled over your words but somehow, your conversation managed to go extremely well. Jane was brilliant in every possible way and you quickly grew attached to seeing her every day. That was why you mourned so greatly when she died.

Jason the Toymaker

The sun was so warm against your skin. You could stay there forever, stretched out on the grass and basking in the sunlight.

“It’s done,” your friend’s voice broke through your daydreaming

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see exactly what they had been working on for the entire trip. After realising the first few times that you weren’t going to get a reaction, you had decided to wait for them to finish working before you tried to have a conversation.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said. “That’s amazing.”

The hyper-realistic man was sketched to perfection with a top hat, a fur coat, and a small mouse sitting on his left shoulder. It felt like his eyes could piece into your soul.

“Who is that?” you asked them.

They stared blankly at the image and shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “He’s been in my dreams for so long. I think it has something to do with my amnesia. Maybe I knew him once before.”

“He’s a little intimidating,” you said. “I could imagine him to be a ringleader in a circus that’s like a secret cult. Maybe he’s why you lost your memory.”

“Maybe…” they said, tapping the picture. They suddenly shoved it into your chest and stood up. “You keep that. I don’t want it anywhere near me. I need to go talk to my parents.”

You watched them race out of the park in confusion. The man in the picture stared up at you with haunting eyes.

Folding it in half so it didn’t freak you out, you stood and dusted off your clothing. Maybe it would be best if you headed home. It was getting late either way.

Later on, you’d call your friend and check up on them.

About 10 minutes away from your house, the feeling of being watched snuck up on you. It hung heavily around your shoulders like a cloak. You glanced around but saw nobody.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable leading whoever was following you back to your house. You made a point of walking amongst large crowds and headed for the police station.

They were watching you the whole way.

You sped up. A few people bumped into you and you apologised as best as you could. Your grip on the picture was getting tighter enough for you to tear it. The later it got, the fewer people were on the streets and so you were pretty much alone when you bumped into him.

It took you a few seconds to recognise the man from the drawing.

If you thought his drawn eyes were captivating, they had nothing on his real ones which glowed with an almost ethereal light.

“You’re him,” you breathed.

He stared at you, smile falling from his face in confusion. “Who?”

You shakily held out the drawing and he yanked it from your hands. “My friend drew that,” you explained. “They said that its of somebody from their past. They have amnesia you see.”

He was unmoving as he studied the picture. You began feeling a little uncomfortable and then his gaze snapped to you. “Is that so?” he asked.

You nodded and took a small step away from him. “Maybe you should go and talk to them? See –“ you swallowed nervously. “See if you can help them remember?”

“No need,” he said, dropping the paper on the ground. “Who are you?”

Your name came out as little more than a soft whisper. Something about the entire scenario made you uneasy. His appearance was too unnatural.

A gust of wind came by, picking up the drawing and whipping it away. You watched it go and when you looked back down, his eyes were locked on you.

“Such a pity,” he said. “You would have been the perfect doll.”

Wearily, you took a step backwards. His words made your stomach churn uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled. It was kind and warm but it only made you more nervous. His eyes looked like they had almost changed colour; shifted a shade darker than previously. “Thinking aloud my dear,” he said.

“About dolls?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little towards you. “I’m going to have to bid you goodbye. It seems I have other matters to attend to.” He brushed past you, stopping briefly when directly next to you. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He was gone before you could even spin around to face him.

Jeff the Killer

Pausing the song, you removed your earphones as quietly as possible and placed them down on your desk. According to the blinking numbers on your phone screen, it was nearing 2 AM. Far too late for anybody to make an excess of noise.

You listened closely. The music had been too loud for you to hear anything and you almost brushed the strange noise off as your sleep-deprived imagination. Until something squeaked like shoe soles on tiles.

In retrospect, you should have immediately called 911 but you didn’t want to sound a false alarm.

The light switch was thankfully directly outside your room. The hall illuminated most of the house when they were on and it steeled your nerves. Your roommate’s door was open, allowing you to confirm their sleeping state, curled up in their bed amongst the piles of mess. They had had to move to the spare room due to a faulty window earlier in the day and had clearly given up sorting items.

You glanced into the apartment’s other rooms before heading to the kitchen. There was nothing odd. The scuttling when you entered the kitchen just suggested that your neighbour’s rat infestation may be migrating.

Making a mental note to call the exterminator, you turned to switch off the kitchen light.

Something slammed into you, forcing your back to collide with a wall. A hand covered your mouth and the overwhelming scent of blood and decay invaded your nose. Something cold and sharp pressed against your neck.

“Shut up and stay still,” the man snarled at you. “I don’t think anybody will appreciate you getting blood in the kitchen.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your body stilled. The man in front of you was terrifying. His skin pale and mutilated. Eyes far too wide for a normal person and dancing with an insanity that sent chills down your spine.

And his mouth… a bloody smile carved across his face, stretching halfway to his ears.

He studied your face carefully and his expression twisted. “You’re not the right one,” he snapped. The knife moved away from your neck, so he could point with it. “I had this all planned and yet when I came into that room, I found it empty. Why?”

Even if he hadn’t been holding your mouth shut, you doubted you would have been able to formulate an answer. The pounding heartbeat in your ears was nearly blocking out his voice.

He lightly tapped your cheek with his knife. “Not that it matters,” he said. “I’ll just have to adapt my original plan. You’re not the right target but I’m a huge fan of collateral damage.”

A small whimper escaped you and tears welled at your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

“Don’t blubber!” he ordered. “View it as a good thing. You’ll be all over the news. Another victim of Jeff the Killer. Hell, you might even be added to a Wikipedia page or something.”

You could recall that name from the news. Often followed by a lengthy list of deaths and the police chief begging for any information about the murderer.

Jeff stared at you for a long minute before he pressed the knife’s blade to your throat and moved his hand away from your mouth. “Scream and I will remove your vocal cords,” he threatened. “Who are you?”

It took several deep breaths and a flicker of impatience in his expression to give you the ability to talk again. You stammered out your full name as quickly as you possibly could.

He rolled his eyes and tilted the knife so it scratched your skin. A sticky and warm substance ran down your throat in small droplets. “Pathetic.”

“Sorry,” you whispered on instinct. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You ruined my earlier plans to take out my original target by interrupting me before I could find them. Why shouldn’t I settle for you instead?”

You didn’t have an answer.

He took the blade away from your throat. “If you call the police and report what happened here tonight, I will slice you into little pieces.”

It was almost twenty minutes after he left before you regained any movement in your body. You slumped into a heap on the kitchen floor and started sobbing.

Kagekao

Things had been going missing around your house.

Initially, you had thought it was just due to you forgetting where you’d plopped things because it was simple things. Drinks that vanished, keys turning up on the opposite side of the house, and random spills that you didn’t remember making.

But then it started getting weirder still.

You would make food and pack it away, knowing that you would eat it later, and find it gone. Picture frames disappeared, never to be seen again. Your rug half-unraveled during the night and you found it in a pile the next morning. A candle in your bathroom fell over and, somehow, the curtains on the other side of the house had caught alight.

It was suspicious, to say the very least. You began to think that you had some kind of intruder – once, the news reported that a woman found a homeless man living in her attic and eating her food when she wasn’t looking.

So you went out and bought cameras, setting them up throughout your house.

For two weeks, they caught nothing until one of them ended up breaking. You went to get it repaired and the company managed to recover what it had last seen. Which was nothing on your first glance.

But you were soon to realise, that was only because you had been looking at the floor.

While you were rewatching when you got home, you noticed something. The window was sitting wide open and the camera’s angle only allowed you to see half of it. Right toward the end of the feed, a gloved hand appeared on the side of the window and a slight shadow indicated something climbing through.

So you got reinforced windows and made sure that none were open unless you were in the room.

Things still continued happening.

You were beginning to get really annoyed by this. It was tempting to go to the police and let them just handle it but that was going to be a lot of effort that you really didn’t care for. You didn’t feel like you were in much danger. Nothing had happened in your bedroom.

Your next plan was to set up a trap of some kind. With a hidden camera set up, you made extra food and left it on the counter to see if something happened.

The next day, you watched as a plastic toy of some kind was thrown directly into the plate from somewhere off-camera, breaking it and leaving an absolute mess everywhere.

Still not considering it to be anything dangerous, you just cleaned up the mess and loudly cursed out anybody who was listening. You stalked the house after that, searching every nook and cranny with a bat in hand. The final place was the closet in your bedroom and you peered in, expecting nothing.

When you turned around though, you spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

It was humanoid with arms twisted into awkward positions and a mask on its face. Half the mask was black and the other white, both sides bearing an unnaturally smiling expression. The creature cackled when you saw it and scuttled out of the door, stuck to the roof the entire time.

A second passed.

Then another.

You pinched your arm hard and waited to wake up. Surely there was no way… I mean, why would… humans didn’t generally crawl along the ceiling? Well, you were quite sure they never did that. You must have been imagining it.

A second laugh corrected you on that.

You swallowed thickly, walked over to your door as calmly as possible and locked it. Then you took out your phone and finally called the police.

Kate the Chaser

The day when Kate was sent away remained very clear in your mind. It was a moment that brought extremely change to your life, mixing up your friend group and sending you in a different direction.

The years has passed and you had never gotten over your best friend. They said that she had lost her mind and you knew it was true. All those games investigating the woods and ghost hunting must have put a toll on her mind. Sometimes, you blamed yourself for all the pranks and you knew that Lauren had similar doubts.

And now she was back.

Lauren and you hadn’t remained close, the entire situation feeling too real with one another. Your greeting was stilted but neither of you wanted to be the first to approach the house.

“Do you think that she remembers us?” Lauren asked.

“If she didn’t then her mom wouldn’t have invited us over,” you said.

You stood in complete silence, staring up at the house. Would you even recognise Kate? The last time that you had seen her was when you were both young children and her face remained at that age in your memories.

Eventually, you gained your confidence before Lauren and you walked over, knocking on the door before anxiety could find you.

Kate answered the door and you forgot why you had ever been nervous.

Time had slimmed her face and shortened her hair. Her eyes were still a gentle brown and the cockiness had faded from her smile, but it was recognisable from your nostalgia. It made you feel warm and known – an aura that you had missed without even realising it.

“Hi,” you greeted.

Kate pulled you into a tight hug and you returned it, clutching at her tightly as though she could slip through your fingers. It really had been too long and when you moved away, she held onto Lauren with the same enthusiasm.

“How have you been?” she asked. “You have to tell me everything.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon having tea and just talking about the world at large. Kate didn’t have many stories from the hospital – she claimed it was because the place had been extremely boring and neither of you pushed to find out more about it. Honestly, it was more comfortable to act as though she had simply moved away.

Lauren had to leave first and you were going to go with her but Kate had looked so down that you remained just a little longer. That was when things got weird.

“I’ve missed music a lot,” Kate sighed.

“Did they not allow you to listen to music?”

She grimaced. “No, they did but often I couldn’t hear it over the static. Its mostly gone away now but it came back last night… it fills my brain and all that I can think of is a way to make the pain stop.”

The colour drained from your face as you stared at her. You didn’t know much about what happened to her but you had thought she would be okay now.

Realising it, Kate hurried to reassure you, “I really have recovered,” she said. “My hallucinations have faded and my medication keeps my emotions in check. You really don’t have to be scared of me.”

You stared down at your cup awkwardly. “I’m not scared of you,” you reassured her. “You’ve never done anything to me.”

She nodded. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’m ready to get back to a normal life with my friends and not have to worry about that ghost stuff ever again.”

Laughing Jack

It was on your leg…

The glare you fixed the small child with could wilt plants. It didn’t care though and merely clutched at your clothing with a happy smile. “Come play with me?” it asked. “I can introduce you to all my friends!”

“How old is she again?” you grumbled at your friend.

Your friend laughed and ruffled their cousin’s hair. “I had an imaginary friend when I was 10. She’s only 6, she’s still at the stage where they’re a big deal.”

The child was oblivious to your conversation and reached out her arms. “Come on. The parents are being boring. I have candy that my friend gave me. We can share it.”

“I agreed to come along to your family get together to keep you company,” you said to your friend. “You know I don’t like children. Babysitting really isn’t my forte.”

All you received for your complaining was laughter.

By the time you had the 4th teddy bear had been introduced, you were done. Why did one kid have so many toys?

“Now which one of your friends gives you candy?” your friend asked. “Because if it’s from Princess, I don’t think it’s edible. What if she secretly puts glitter in it?”

Expected to play along, you sighed. “Unless it’s glitter from rainbows because then it’s got magic powers and allows you to fly.”

The child liked your thumb-sucked statement because she jumped up in excitement. “I don’t get it from Princess. Jack gives it to me! But if Princess can make me fly, I want to have that kind of candy instead!”

“Which one’s Jack again?” you asked, eyeing the line of toys.

“He’s not here right now,” the child said, biting her inner cheek. She turned in a circle. ���Sometimes he hides in the cupboard though!” She ran over to her cupboard and pulled the doors open. “I don’t think – OW!”

She reeled backwards, clutching her cheek. Both you and your friend immediately jumped up and ran over to her. A tiny slice mark ran across the side of her face. It wasn’t anything serious, but she was sobbing as though it would kill her. You presumed a small edge on one of the boxes in the cupboard had been the cause.

“Do you want me to take you to mom, so she can kiss it better?” your friend asked. “Your new best friend can wait here and make sure all your toys are safe.”

The child nodded, and she got led out of the room. You rolled your eyes at the sensitivity and reached into the cupboard to push the box out of the way. A clawed hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed your wrist tightly.

Before you could even shout, it lifted you off the ground by your arm and a second hand had wrapped around your mouth.

The monster’s body appeared out of the closet.

It was a clown. Easily 7ft tall and comprised of monochrome colours with a sharp, pointed nose and long, greasy hair. Its black lips spread into a smile, revealing pointed teeth and a sickeningly sweet breath.

You writhed against its grip, trying to scream or do anything but it was insanely strong, and it just laughed at your efforts.

“How mean,” it purred, leaning in close to your face. “You ask who I am and then, when I appear to you, you insult my appearance. Awful etiquette. Your parents should be concerned about how rude you are to strangers.”

You strained your memory to think about what you had been doing before it grabbed you but the adrenaline was clouding your mind. What had you asked? You struggled more with the lack of memories.

The clown shook its head. “I haven’t revealed myself to somebody so old in a long time. You should be flattered but instead you choose to try and kick me. This is why I don’t do this. Children are far more polite.”

He released you suddenly and you landed hard on the ground. It winked and disappeared, right as your friend and her cousin returned.

“You met Jack!” the child shouted excitedly, pointing to the candy lying next to you.

You shoved it away from you as quickly as possible.