#also yes I did try to draw from the vial with the cap on the first time. prolly why she was judging me so hard

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Could we pls get part 2 for ‘Weaponized Villain’? 👀👀

-whumpilicious

Thank you so much for this ask!

So I neglected rereading the other part. Villain's tongue is meant to be cut off, but he talks in this. Just let's pretend that he has like a voice speaking box or something, I apologize for this.

Weaponized Villain Part 2

Part 1

@whumpilicious @the-sky-writes @maracujatangerine @kim-poce @octopus-reactivated

Warnings: sedation/anesthesia mention, semiconsciousness, drugged character, past body surgey, body modifications, unconscious character, guilt, descriptions of procedure, conditioning, dehumanization, weaponizing, blood drawing, blood tests, syringes and needles, delirium, hospital setting

~

There were six doctors in that room, and ten nurses. All just stared; no effort was made to advance to help the barely conscious human on the gurney.

All their fingers twitched, curling around various surgical implements and syringes decked with needles. One even aimlessly dangled a stethoscope from their tensed fingers and with the deep metallic armor protecting the weakened body underneath, it would serve no purpose.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Hero rapsed, a slight squeak to the pitch in her voice as her emerald eyes rapidly glistened over the stunned faces of the medics.

"There are wires literally connected to the ends of his nerves. I don't even know how that's physically possible," one of the doctors informed the concerned hero with a faint knowing tone to his voice. He glanced at the lightly trembling hero before averting his eyes. "If we remove them," he continued, "we could give him permanent nerve damage."

Hero gaped, trotting over to the bed where the injured man laid upon. They were able to safely remove some of the metal mask, revealing tangles of wires and humming boxes. He was practically a humanoid machine.

But at least part of his eyes were visible. At least she could gauge the state of his consciousness.

They were dulled and very unfocused, rolling up underneath his lids. Hero sighed and ran a tentative hand over the smooth metal.

"We can however," the doctor interrupted the tender moment with a spark of nervous hope in his voice, "slowly take off the armor, starting with his feet to study how it was put on. If we are successful, we may be able to figure out a way to completely get rid of it. I would like to take some blood tests first though to see what's in his system. Even though he is hurt and weak and very tired, he also seems sorta loopy."

Hero nodded, a smile dawning on her face and stepped away from the villain who had just started to whimper and mumble incoherently.

"M-mission," he wheezed. "Kill."

Hero looked up with a pointed edge to her gaze. The doctors and nurses stiffened in anticipation, sharing glances with each other.

One of the mechanical arms raised weakly, before plummeting back onto the thin mattress. Villain groaned and coughed, barely audible, before slowly turning his head to look at Hero.

"I-i tried sir," he whispered before his eyes drifted shut.

The doctors all let out a loud sigh, letting out a caged breath they were all holding. Hero nervously crept over to Villain and laid her hand on his head. Unconsciously, he leaned into it. Hero pursed her lips, surprised that he could feel her touch.

The medics began to buzz around Villain's feet, lifting them and prodding at them. Hero pulled a nearby plastic chair up and sat next to Villain, swinging her hand underneath his helmet covered head.

She watched as some heavy-duty pair of scissors and pliers were brought to the operation. They fluidly removed the thick metal casing. Hero's felt her heartbeat rise at the sight of the intricate mass of colors from all the little wires, but then it settled again when she came to the realization that it wasn't too bad.

The doctors started to untangle the wires. Most of them seemed to be powering another function in the suit with only a couple imbedded into his foot.

Even with this hindrance, the doctors were still able to expose his pale, wrinkled foot. The veins stood out like a bodybuilder's bicep, blue and thick.

"I've never taken blood samples from a foot before, but," one of the nurses chuckled as she ran a thin needle into the most strong looking vein, "I'm sure this'll work."

The blood running into the little vial was sort of thin for being blood, Hero noticed with a frown. And it went in there slowly, much slower than all the times Hero had to take blood tests for her yearly physical.

Eventually, the nurse capped the vial and put it in a little tray that a much younger lady, probably a med student, took to where Hero assumed was a lab.

"So," the doctor spoke, his experienced fingers lightly touching the wires strung through Villain's foot. "These are attached to his nerves, so the wires get very thin. This is not medically possible unless the doctor had some sort of power which enabled this."

"Can you fix it?" Hero asked softly.

"Yes, but slowly. He will have to be put under anesthesia for the procedure, but I don't know if his body is strong enough to be sedated for long periods. To fully rid of this suit, he would have to be operated on for at least fifteen hours multiple times at that," the doctor explained. "All we have to do is get a high-tech camera and snip the wires from the nerves. For all I know, because as we have seen, he can feel still, the nerves aren't damaged."

Hero nodded, prompting him to continue.

"It'll be slow and very shocking to his body. He'll been given a constant drip of mild painkillers- just to take the edge off- and will have to be intubated to be fed."

Hero felt a tad quesy to her stomach. She brought her hand to carefully cradle her torso, the other still lying languidly under Villain's unconscious head.

"If it works, do it," Hero said, nodding to the doctor. He wavered a smile before ducking out of the room, a trail of chattering nurses following him.

Hero was left alone to comfort the sleeping boy. His eyelids quivered and twitched under the blazing LED illuminating his face.

She felt somewhat guilty. All this time Supervillain's "indestructible drone" was actually a living, breathing human controlled by an android suit.

It was sickening. Especially since Hero didn't have the gumption to investigate when the seemingly nonliving machine limped away from battle, when it would sway and collapse in a bloody battlefield, when it would seem to react like a living body did when it was punched or thrown against a building.

Hero ran her thumb over the cracked paint of the helmet in small circles, deep in thought. Her fingertips followed the dents and edges, pressing against them. This poor guy suffered so much and all Hero did was aid in that suffering.

"Mm boss," Villain breathed, desperately trying to roll over to his side in his sleeping state. Hero put a hand on the busted metal of his shoulder and gently shushed him.

"Mmmnh no," he whimpered, pulling his body to himself. His eyes slited open, dancing over to Hero as an awaiting expression washed over them. "D-dont... hurt... me..."

"I won't honey," Hero whispered, smiling down at him. It was only then that Hero realized how young the semi-conscious man was. Barely twenty-two, even a tad younger than Hero herself.

Twenty-two years old, a whole life wasted away. A life feasted on rough hands, pain and experiments. Hero shuddered at the thought, brushing her fingers over the exposed skin on his forehead. Villain grunted and pushed into her hand like a cat, needing that close comfort.

He was just a kid.

Hero felt tears spiking at her eyes. She wiped them away with the cuff of her sleeve, sniffling quietly. The emotion in his glassy eyes quickly contorted into worry, then fear.

He jerked as hard as his fatigued body permitted him to do, trying his hardest to get away the possible threat.

"I tried," he screamed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I-i tried to kill... I did, please. Don't shock me." His screams rapidly ceased to muttered whimpers as his strength and energy ebbed away from him. He fell back into the gurney, eyes rolling to their whites.

Soon he passed out again, lost in the dark abyss of oblivion.

Hero looked down at the pitiful man on the bed with a sympathetic sigh before turning her face away, allowing the tears to come forth.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 295: So How Are You Holding Up (Because I’m a Potato)

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi randomly and graciously decided to answer all of our long-standing questions about Mr. Compress, including “is he secretly hot,” “is he secretly related to that Robin Hood thief guy,” and “is he ever going to use his quirk to chain chomp a hole right through his ass??” with the answer to all three being “yes, of course.” As for our follow-up questions, “sir, is Mr. Compress going to die,” and “holy shit,” his answers were, respectively, “wait and see,” and, “I understand, really I do, but that isn’t actually a question.” Well, he’s got us there.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi finally ends the War arc with the speed and grace of an overworked college student scrambling to BS their entire midterm essay with five minutes left before the deadline. Deku’s Spidey Sense is all “what up, I exist, p.s. you’re in danger kid” like oh shit, no, you think?? Compress is all “I’m not gonna die but I am going to pass out and be captured” and honestly, at this point I’ll take it. Spinner is all “Tomura you can have this one last Souvenir Hand I found that was in the oven for too long” and slaps it on his face because HE’S JUST TRYING TO BE HELPFUL, SHUT UP. Dabi is all, “[currently in a marble].”Tomura is all “actually, I’m AFO.” AFO is all “hahahahaha” and summons all of the remaining Noumus to cart him and Spinner and Dabi off to safety. Deku is all “DAMMIT TOMURA I’M REALLY MAD AT YOU FOR KILLING, AND I QUOTE, ‘AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE’, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, GET THIS, I TOTALLY WANT TO SAVE YOU TOO! LMAO ISN’T THAT WILD.” Fandom is all “OH MY GOD, NO WAY, is what we would say if we had literally never met Deku before, I guess.” And then the arc just ends, lol. See you in the new year, kids.

WAKE UP, LINK... I MEAN, DEKU

jesus christ Vestiges, not a one of you guys has got any chill at ALL. LISTEN TO ME. THIS CHILD IS DEAD. HE IS DECEASED. LOOK AT HIM. HE’S LYING THERE ALL DAZED WITH HIS ARMS AND LEGS TURNED INTO GREEN PUDDING AND YOU’RE ALL “GET UP LAZYBONES” LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD. CAN HE JUST REST?? CAN YOU ALL JUST CALL IT A DRAW WITH THE VILLAINS ALREADY SO WE CAN FINALLY END THIS TRAUMATIC ARC AND MOVE ON TO THE NEW “TRIAGE AND ROBOT LIMBS FOR EVERYBODY” ARC INSTEAD

LIE BACK DOWN YOU IDIOT!!

no you didn’t pass out because of a ~heatwave~, you passed out because he set you on fire while you were out here shooting Blackwhip out of your mouth with your SPINDLY ACCORDION LIMBS dangling uselessly from you like WINDCHIMES you RIDICULOUS BOY

“where’s Todoroki-kun” oh shiiiiiiit. right. god I hope someone caught him. BAKUGOU OWES HIM A FAVOR, HOW ‘BOUT IT

OH NEVER MIND HE APPARENTLY CAUGHT HIMSELF??

Todoroki Shouto has really highkey been the MVP of the entire fourth quarter of this arc. he deserves the world, and odds are all Horikoshi’s going to give him are lasting trauma, and a souvenir shirt that says “I survived this stupid arc and all I got was this t-shirt”

anyway now Deku’s being hit by a Lightning Bolt of Realization or some such? idk what’s going on, but I bet you it’s related to Tomura waking up again

OH SHIT??

LOL WHAT. THAT’S IT?? SPIDEY-SENSE?? I mean we all predicted Spidey-Sense being one of his quirks like ages ago, so Well Done, Us, I guess

but also, seriously?? all of that drama and intrigue about the fourth user’s quirk and this is what we end up with? what was All Might being so cagey about then? how did this dude die? I need answers goddammit. new, better answers lol

maybe it’s something to do with the fact that Deku keeps talking about how his head hurts?

I mean, for Deku of all people to be all “ouch that hurts”, it must really fucking hurt, you know? like oh my god Deku are you dying

lmao and SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO APPARENTLY DON’T FEEL PAIN

this man is out here FROLICKING, half-naked and half-torsoed, AND STILL FEVERISHLY RATTLING OFF HIS MONOLGOUE. YOU HAVEN’T EVEN ESCAPED YET YOU DINGUS. did watching Dabi pour bleach over his head inspire you to think of interesting new ways you could abuse your own body for the sake of Theatrics?? why are villains Like This

anyway so now Mirio’s punching him, because what else are you even supposed to do in this situation

I read this speech bubble three times in a row very carefully this time around just to make sure I was reading the words right. and then looked for a T/L note below. and there was none. whatever RHA, at least you all are out here enjoying yourselves

wait what?

I guess he hasn’t woken up yet after all?? so then wtf is Deku’s Spidey Sense getting all worked up about. I mean to be fair there’s danger all around them still so having a Spidey Sense in this kind of situation is kind of like bringing a smoke alarm to a BBQ

now what

wait did he put them back in the marble?? or is that panel just meant to show us how they were in the marble earlier?? Horikoshi please make this less confusing, I’m already having trouble staying focused as it is. and on top of everything else Compress is cascading blood like Niagara Falls right now and I’m starting to wonder if you really are going to kill him off

anyway so Mirio is still in mid-punch, and now he’s reaching out to punch Spinner with his other hand. heh. Mirio please be careful Tomura is right there, and I swear to god Horikoshi IF HE LAYS A HAND ON HIS SWIRLY BLOND HEAD SO HELP ME I WILL MAIL YOU A VIAL OF MY TEARS

okay seriously what the hell is happening

when you attach?? everyone?? to your body?? whose body?? who is this??

oh wait okay it’s a flashback to Tomura talking about his Hands

lmao this is so disjointed, I can’t tell what’s a flashback and what isn’t and whose thoughts these are lmao I give up. I’m just going to fire up a bunch of question marks until this starts making some goddamn sense. ???????

??????

????????

-- !!!!!!!!!!!

okay hold up. so did Spinner just slap Tomura’s last remaining Signature Fashion Hand onto his face just now for absolutely no reason?? is that what’s going on?? and fuck me but it actually worked too, lmao. is your buddy unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli?? no problem, just slap ‘em in the face with a burnt and shriveled severed hand. works every time

p.s. I SWEAR TO GOD HORIKOSHI. IF YOU TOUCH MIRIO!!! HE’S A GOOD BOY LEAVE HIM ALONE

??????????

OKAY WELL. I STILL HAVE NO IDEA WTF IS HAPPENING, BUT AT LEAST MIRIO’S NOT DEAD. KACCHAN GOT BLOWN AWAY THOUGH SOB. HOW IRONIC THAT THE GOD OF EXPLOSION MURDERS WOULD BE MURDERED BY AN EXPLOSION WHILE I WAS BUSY SAYING “OH MY GOD”

ohhhhhh, okay. so this is AFO’s narration

and that’s a partial answer to the question of “why did AFO bother raising Tomura up as his heir if he was planning on taking over his body the whole time.” apparently it makes it easier to control him. joy :’)

also this image of a potato wearing a Tomura wig is sending me fjkllkhl

oh my god he summoned all the Noumu to him like Aquaman and his sea creatures. this whole situation just keeps on getting better

-- oh hell no. oh fuck me, fucking shit

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I’M SORRY SPINNER, TOMURA CAN’T COME TO THE PHONE RIGHT NOW

oh my god. I fucking hate everything right now oh my god

I GUESS WE FIGURED OUT WHAT DEKU’S SPIDEY SENSE WAS WARNING HIM ABOUT, THEN ಠ_ಠ

fucking great!! so I guess nobody is getting a happy ending today, then. the heroes got their asses handed to them (sorry Compress, it’s a figure of speech, didn’t mean to be disrespectful); Deku and Kacchan died; Shouto’s evil brother came back from the dead to ruin his life; everyone and their dog lost various limbs; and the villains have now lost Twice (dead), Compress and Machia (presumably going to be captured), and now their fearless leader’s body has been completely taken over by AFO, which is such an unsexy development that it managed to completely undo all of the Mr. Compress Sexiness from last week. goddamn it

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO END IT LIKE THIS

up close Hadou’s face is looking pretty rough. :/ that’s going to scar over isn’t it. at least she’ll look like a badass

meanwhile I appreciate that Horikoshi drew what looks to be a little puff of air next to Kacchan’s mouth, just to reassure us all that he’s not actually dead. that’s fine. you just lie there then. also his wound really is in the exact same place as All Might’s and it’s giving me all kinds of feels you guys but whatever I’m not gonna sit here dwelling on it all day

AND POOR SHOUTO. IS HE STILL CRYING OMG. AND ENDEAVOR, WAY TO DO NOTHING STILL. THE ALL TIME CHAMP OF SITTING AROUND AND STARING, GOOD FOR YOU

ARE YOU FOR REAL, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

(－‸ლ)

lol

“peace out, loser.” “SHUT YOUR TRAP, HO.” quality encounter right here

anyway so he’s blasting Deku with something and Deku’s just flying back all unconscious-like. so then, what even was the point of all that, huh

oh I see, it was to lead us into one last Deku monologue to close this arc out

oh my god Deku if you say you’re going to save him I will turn around and do a cannonball into a ballpit of feels right now, don’t do this to me

OH SNAP I THINK HE’S GONNA THOUGH

DID HE LOOK LIKE HE NEEDED SAVING?? I MUST CONFESS YOU AND I ARE OF A MIND HERE, YOUNG BROCCOLI. YES IN SPITE OF ALL THE MURDERS. WHAT CAN I SAY IT’S COMPLICATED

by the way I just have to point out here, that after all of those impossibly pretty close-ups of Hawks’s unconscious face, Horikoshi really did my child dirty here lmao

he looks like a squished cockroach. THAT’S MY BABY BOY

and it looks like the cavalry is finally on its way too! took them long enough. so I guess they can take care of any of the remaining Noumu stragglers, but first let Deku finish his speech. listen up Deku I really need you to say something cool and iconic to cap off this thus-far admittedly underwhelming Last Chapter Of The Year, here

AHHHHHHH YES HE REALLY DID IT HE SAID THE THING

well he thought the thing, anyway. close enough. I’ll take it!

so this is really the end of the arc then! or at least I hope, good lord. anyways, all right then so let’s do a quick status check:

it looks like the Noumu are hauling Tomura and Spinner away to safety, but it doesn’t look like they managed to save Machia or Compress. this honestly might be in Compress’s best interests though. the heroes can get him some medical help along with Kacchan and Endeavor and everyone else

Dabi is apparently hidden inside Spinner’s scarf, but do they have any way of releasing him without Compress there to undo the quirk? will he be all right in there. like how is he going to get food and water and air and stuff lol. does it wear off after a bit? can Compress undo it when he wakes up, even if he’s in custody? is there a distance limit on it?

and Skeptic was presumably turned into a marble as well, but Compress didn’t bother mentioning him at all. nobody cares about poor Skeptic lol

and bonus AFO theories status check:

Dad for One - AFO called Deku worthless and hasn’t seemed to take the least bit of interest in him despite getting to see his fancy SIXQUIRKS up close and personal. so if he is his dad he sure as heck is a terrible one, that’s all I can say

All for One for All/Deku is a horcrux - well the Spidey Sense seems to offer an alternative explanation to why Deku could sense AFO’s presence, but on the other hand it doesn’t explain why AFO was able to sense Deku’s as well (seeing his dreams and such). still thinking there’s a connection there, guys, idk

AFO is the final villain - five words for you: “EVERYTHING IS FOR MY SAKE.” is that concrete enough yet lol. pretty sure this arc marked both the beginning and end of Tomura’s brief stint as the Big Bad. Deku’s got it in his mind to save him now somehow, and we all know what happens when Deku starts getting determined to save people. look out AFO

as for the heroes, they’re all varying degrees of Fucked and I think it’s honestly too much to even take stock of at this point. maybe if I get a rush of hyperfixation in the next couple days or so I’ll do a separate post analyzing the impact of this arc and where things currently stand and where they might be headed from here

but in the meantime, ngl, this chapter was kind of a hot mess lmao. but whatever, I don’t even care because at least he managed to get all of it done within the allotted 17 pages, meaning that next week (or rather two weeks from now, sob) we really can get moving onto the aforementioned Triage arc! BRING ON THAT ANGST. I am so fucking hyped goddammit

[thrillridesz]

all i want for christmas | eric

in part of the deobi secret santa project and dedicated as a gift to @channiewoo​ ✨ ( i hope you like it >< i tried my best! )

➳ pairing: college student!eric x reader ( ft juyeon, kevin, chanhee and sangyeon with jacob mentions! )

➳ genre: fluff, fantasy, time travel!au, time loop!au, christmas!au, university!au, love triangle!au ( ish? )

➳ warnings: n/a (PG13)

➳ word count: 4.6k

➳ inspo: lotus inn by why don’t we

➳ fic playlist: all i want for christmas - big time rush ft miranda cosgrove | lotus inn - why don’t we | christmassy! - the boyz | you belong with me - taylor swift | crush - david archuleta

a/n : this is my christmas secret santa gift to eri @channiewoo​  ^^ also hi, i’m your theb secret santa! thank you for being such a sweet person to talk to throughout this month and honestly you really made my first secret santa here on tumblr pretty memorable! i know we’ve just exchanged a few asks here and there but i genuinely did like talking to you though im not the most frequent secret santa anon out there >< i sincerely hope you can forgive me for that. but anyways, i hope you like your gift!!

+ also unedited for now because i really wanted to post this on christmas day... and tags are still not working but i don’t want to delay this any longer

The Christmas spirit could be felt in all corners of the house that night as the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies and crackling log fire from the fireplace wafted in the air while party guests swayed to the upbeat  Christmas music playing on the stereo and chatted merrily amongst themselves. Outside, fine white snow was falling and against the black canvas of the night sky, it made the streets seem almost serene and even beautiful. Looking out, one could easily feel the Christmas mood as neighbours held their own christmas parties and family gatherings. Everywhere they looked, they would see beautifully decorated houses adorned with Christmas wreaths and intricate fairy lights. Sometimes, one would even see the occasional snowmans displayed out in the neighbours’ yards, covered in scarves and hats with the ever familiar carrot nose. From a distance a few doors down, one could also hear singing - a telltale sign of the local group of Christmas carolers making their rounds in the neighbourhood like they did every year.

This was what Christmas is all about - enjoying good food with loved ones, receiving amazing gifts, going door to door caroling and feeling at home with the people you appreciate and cherish while the winter snow falls outside. Yet, Eric felt anything but. In fact, his heart was pounding against his chest as he sipped nervously at his mug of hot apple cider. Around him, the party guests were mingling and laughing at the college Christmas party as they shared funny stories from the year they had, feeling particularly merry. Normally, it would have been easy for him to get in the mood but not this time.

“I don’t get what you’re so nervous about.” Kevin said, shaking his head. “Why can’t you just talk to her?”

“I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. What if I mess up?” He replied despondently, his eyes softening as he glanced at you from across the room.

There you were - decked out in a cute Christmas outfit just standing by the fireplace, your hair falling around your face and framing it, looking more beautiful than he had remembered. The smile on your face made his heart flutter ever so slightly and he could feel his face grow warmer despite having a huge mug of apple cider just in front of him. The santa hat you wore added just that little touch of sweetness and adorableness to you and Eric couldn’t help but feel his heart start to pound in his chest. If you weren’t already stunning to him, you were breathtakingly beautiful to him now. Every little smile or shy glance made his heart beat just a little faster and he reached up to clutch softly as his chest.

“It’s better than not trying at all, Eric.” Kevin pointed out, taking a bite out of his gingerbread cookie. “You ought to have a little bit more faith in yourself.”

Eric sighed in resignation. “It’s so much easier talking about it than actually doing it. Everytime I think about doing it, I chicken out. I just can’t seem to stop fearing about possibly screwing it up, Kev.”

Kevin regarded him with a sympathetic look before patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “I understand. Look man, if you don’t feel ready then you don’t have to force yourself to talk to her.”

“I promised myself that today would be the day.”

“Yeah, I know you did but still, you don’t have to force yourself. Your face is turning pale from the anxiety.” The latter said, concerned.

“It is?” Eric asked, alarmed as he quickly turned to the window beside him, checking out his reflection. He narrowed his eyes as he reached up to ruffle his hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat better though all it did was make it seem more tousled.

Kevin watched him, chuckling softly. Men in love are truly a different breed.

“Hey, Kev! I nearly forgot, do you want to listen to my newly curated Christmas playlist? I’ve been meaning to ask but I couldn’t find you.” Sangyeon suddenly appeared from behind the duo, with a joyous grin on his face. Kevin gave Eric a questioning look which he waved away.

“I’ll be fine.” He smiled.

“Alright… If you need anything, just call me!” Kevin said, casting him a last fleeting glance as he walked away with Sangyeon.

Holding the mug of hot apple cider close to his chest, Eric leaned against the cold glass panel of the window, staring out listlessly despite the steady pounding of his heart. He shot a furtive glance in your direction and quickly looked away, his cheeks reddening. At this rate, it would not be long before he turned as red as Rudolph’s nose.

“Get a grip, Eric. Why are you being such a wimp?” He chided himself. Looking around, Eric couldn’t help but observe his surroundings wistfully.

Everyone was seemingly in their element - snacking on Christmas snacks, dancing and just having fun. By the boombox, he watched as Hyunjae engaged in conversation with a girl who he did not recognise. The way they were laughing and the way she so flirtatiously slapped him on the shoulder, giggling at something Hyunjae said made Eric feel so deeply envious. Even from where he was, the smitten look on her face was undeniable and he wondered why he couldn’t have been more of a ladies’ man like Hyunjae was. Things would have been so much easier for him. Why is it that whenever it came to you he was suddenly the most awkward person to grace the face of this earth? It just didn’t make sense to him.

Sighing, he took another sip of his hot apple cider, feeling the liquid burn at the back of his throat. Suddenly, he frowned, his eyes narrowing. Who was that?

He had one of the most attractive faces Eric had ever seen - with soft, fine dark hair, a strong build and a warm smile that simply lit up the room. There he was, talking to you and you sliding your hand over his shoulder, not in a seductive or flirtatious way but in a friendly way though it was still enough to spark jealousy in Eric’s heart. He watched intently as you leaned in to whisper something in his year, his smile growing wider at your words.

Eric longed to know what the two of you were talking about, his grip on his mug growing tighter and firmer.

“Lost your chance, buddy.”

Swivelling around, Eric nearly spilled his apple cider as he turned to face a pink haired boy with an upturned nose. He didn’t remember seeing him around but there was something odd about him that Eric couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not to mention, that statement really did rub him off the wrong way.

“Excuse me?” His tone was slightly icy as he furrowed his brows together, frowning at the stranger in front of him.

“Didn’t you want to talk to her?” The boy asked, taking a swig of his hot chocolate, seemingly not noticing the confused look Eric was shooting him.

“Do I know you?”

“Oh right! I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. How rude of me… I’m Chanhee but you can call me New. Everyone does,” he smiled warmly, “you’re Eric?”

Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Yes? How do you know my name?”

“I just do. I know everyone,” He waved away his question nonchalantly, “I see you have a Christmas sweetheart.”

He tipped his mug in your direction and Eric felt his face grow hotter, annoyance setting in at the same time.

“How is that any of your business?” He snapped, his tone indignant and confrontational.

“I am here to help so watch your tone around me.” New rolled his eyes, looking at him in disdain though there was a twinkle in his eyes as he continued, “I can help you get the girl.”

Eric cast you a sideway glance before turning back to New with a skeptical expression. Whoever this guy was, he was weird, odd. Yet, the proposal he had proposed was a tempting one and despite himself, he felt inclined to listen. Watching you from afar, Eric’s heart sank just a little deeper as the guy you were talking to suddenly reached up to brush your hair away from your face, the both of you looking into each other’s eyes as he did. The irritation and jealousy he felt came back stronger than ever and before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth before he even knew it.

“How can you help?”

At his words, New grinned, drawing a small crystal vial from his pocket. The vial was filled with a mysterious sparkly, glowy pink liquid and smelled distinctively of roasted chestnuts though Eric was almost a thousand percent sure the liquid was not made of any kind of roasted chestnuts in any shape or form. As New popped open the cap, the scent grew even stronger and Eric shot him an alarmed look.

“What is that? A drug?!” Looking around frantically, it felt like nobody was paying the two of them any attention, being too preoccupied with their own conversations. How is nobody noticing this?

“Calm down and don’t get your panties in a twist.” New scoffed, “It’s a time travel potion. Or a time loop potion if you will.”

This guy is actually crazy. Eric almost wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all but barely managed to suppress it.

“Okay…?”

“Yup, I made it myself. Took me like half a year to brew it to perfection but it should work now. I followed each step really closely so there should be no problems.”

“Yeah, sure man. Thanks for wasting my time. If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving. Thanks for the false hope.” Eric grumbled, taking his leave and not even bothering to consider the chagrined look on New’s face. Mayhaps Christmas is not his time either. He wondered how long this would drag on. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, he chickened out and said ‘next time’. When Halloween rolled around, he chickened out yet again and promised to make a move by Thanksgiving yet when Thanksgiving rolled around, he settled for Christmas. Now…

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be. Maybe I’m just too much of a coward.” He whispered to himself, pushing his way through the crowd of people. As he took yet another sip of his hot apple cider, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on you. The way you were now looping your arms over the guy’s neck and the way he had his large hands on your waist made Eric want to leave the party. If only he had a little bit more faith…

“What time is it anyways?” He murmured to himself, wanting more than anything to leave.

9:04pm. Damn. It wouldn’t be until two hours later for the party to end. Sure, he could always leave early but he would hate to be seen as disrespectful to everyone else especially Jacob, the host of this lovely party.

He stared at the mug of hot apple cider he had in his hand, scrunching up his nose at the taste of it.

Was it just him or did it taste slightly… Off?

Eric gazed at it for a moment before he shook his head. I’m overthinking everything, he thought. However as he stood over the snack table, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head. It was like having someone slap him at his head before his vision turned blurry. His limbs were beginning to go soft and his mouth dry. What was happening? He blinked rapidly but to no avail. It felt like he was falling in a deep pit…

When he opened his eyes again, everything felt fine. Patting himself lightly on the face, he looked around his surroundings in confusion. Just what was that? Did he imagine all of that? The mug of hot apple cider was still in his hands and the reindeer horns band was still on his head. He was wearing the same clothes and everything had become clear, there were no more blurry visions. The pounding in his head had stopped and it felt like whatever happened earlier was merely a figment of his own imagination.

“Eric…? Eric!”

The voice shook him from his stupor and with a start, he lifted his head to see Kevin regarding him with a questioning look on his face.

“You okay? You zoned out for a minute and I mean, really zoned out.”

“Y-Yeah… Aren’t you supposed to go listen to Sangyeon’s playlist or something?”

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“What playlist?”

Eric frowned. “Didn’t Sangyeon ask you to listen to his Christmas playlist?”

“Um… No? Even if he has one, he hasn’t asked me yet.”

Eric looked at Kevin with confusion in his eyes. What was going on? Last he remembered, that was exactly what happened. Swivelling around, the confusion got even stronger when he saw you standing all alone at the other corner of the house. Were you not with that guy?

Instantly, he remembered what New had said. “Time travel potion…” He mumbled under his breath, his eyes widening when the realisation dawned upon. No way…

Whipping out his phone, it felt like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest when he saw the time. His throat felt dry and tight as he stared, unable to believe his eyes.

8:46pm.

Eric suddenly recalled the weird taste he had gotten in his cider and instinctively, his hand reached up to cover his mouth. There was no other explanation for this other than the fact that one, that New or was it Kyu guy had not been lying when he spoke of a time travel potion and two, he had slipped him the potion on purpose when he wasn’t looking. He could feel the anger bubble up within him - the nerve of that guy! With pure, unadulterated fury in his eyes, his gaze swept across the room, looking for him. Kevin looked on, thoroughly puzzled.

“...Eric? Are you okay? You’ve got a weird look on your face.” He asked, concerned. “Eric?”

All anger had just dissipated from his being as his sights finally landed on you. There you were, standing all alone at the fireplace with a drink in your hand while your friend danced. The look on your face was one of loneliness and even from a mile away, anyone could tell you looked extremely awkward at having been left alone while she swayed up against Haknyeon, a guy he recognised from his Medieval History module.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the same dark haired guy he had seen approach you ‘earlier’. Following his gaze, Eric could feel his stomach drop as he realised that they were on you. From his body language, it was clear that he was about to make his way over and take his chances with you.

Just then, a voice at the back of his mind whispered softly.

“What are you waiting for?”

Taking a deep breath, Eric squared his shoulders and hurriedly straightened the jacket he was wearing. This is it. This is actually it. He was going to do it. His legs were moving now, one step after another in large strides towards you. The sound of his heart pounding was practically deafening to his ears and he could feel his legs turning into lead, each footstep heavier than the next. Squeezing past the crowd, another voice - this time insistent and panicky - suddenly cried out.

“No, don’t do this! What if you embarrass yourself and make yourself out to be a fool?”

Eric’s face paled. No, this is a mistake. What was he doing?

“Hello?”

Shaking out of his thoughts, Eric almost jumped back in shock at the sight of you just right in front of him. Before he even realised it, he had made his way over. It is now too late to back out. Had he been standing there like an idiot this whole time?

“I-I… Hey!” He squeaked out, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

“You’re Eric right? Eric Sohn from Professor Kim’s introduction to accounting class?” You asked kindly.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the guy from ‘earlier’ approaching, pushing past the crowd and judging from his demeanour… It seemed like the competition was still in the game.

He needed to pull this off.

“Yeah, I am. Y/n right? It’s a pretty cool party, isn’t it?”

“Mhm! Pretty great so far! My friend is over there dancing but I’m not much of a party dancer so here I am,” you smiled and Eric almost forgot what he was about to say.

“I-”

“Hey, how are you guys enjoying the party?”

Eric looked up and his brows furrowed into an annoyed and anxious ‘v’. The dark haired competition merely grinned back at him though there was a certain glint in his eyes which made Eric clench his jaw tightly. It was the sort of gaze that was long enough to send a goading message - game on.

He smiled and extended a hand towards you, completely ignoring Eric. “I’m Juyeon, roommate of Jacob’s. I saw you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

You shook his hand, oblivious to the tension between the two guys. “I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

Juyeon briefly lifted his gaze to Eric and without anyone’s notice but his, he winked slyly.

“Revolting.” Eric thought angrily.

“I heard they have some really cool peppermint treats at the candy table, wanna come?” Juyeon asked and quickly Eric said, “I heard they have a great log cake at the snack bar though. I’ve heard people raving about it!”

You looked at the both of them, seemingly a little disconcerted. “Uh… I…” Juyeon shot Eric a scathing look which he returned with a smug smile.

“Who doesn’t love a good old log cake?” He asked, to which Juyeon rolled his eyes at.

“I mean… I do love peppermint…” You trailed off and Eric turned to you with wide eyes as big as saucers and Juyeon’s lips lifted into a smug smile.

“Excellent choice! I hear they have so many varieties…” Juyeon chattered on, placing his arm over your shoulder, leaving poor Eric speechless and red faced, watching helplessly as the two of you walked away from him. Turning behind you, you had an apologetic look on your face but said nothing.

“That’s too bad. I was rooting for you, you know?”

Eric swivelled around to find New standing behind him yet again, this time chewing on a piece of toffee. The time on his watch was clear as day as the red, glowing digits stared right back at him - 9:04pm. It had come full circle. He had the chance to turn things around but he had failed. Somehow, the nonchalant look in New’s face irritated him but he tried to remain calm. His gaze drifted down to the bulge in the man’s jacket pocket, tracing the faint outline of the tiny vial that contained the potion from earlier.

“At least we know now that I’m legit, right?” He winked at Eric, smirking as he did though it dropped when he saw the look on the latter’s face.

“Why are you-”

“Please, give me one more chance. Please just let me turn back time this one more time.” He pleaded. Eric was not one to plead but this time, he was feeling particularly desperate.

New looked at him like he had just sprouted an extra head before he burst out laughing.

“How’s that for a turn of the tables, Mr ‘thank you for wasting my time’?” He asked, still giggling. Clearly, he was taking much joy in this new dynamic - something Eric didn’t look too pleased about though he was not about to act on it. After all, it was New’s potion that allowed him this one more chance which he had quite unspectacularly let slip from his grasp.

“Alright, I suppose I could let you try this one more time though I’ll definitely be charging for your next usage.” New sighed, whipping out the vial. “I did want you to succeed after all.”

As Eric gulped down his drink, the familiar feeling of dizziness washed over him yet again, along with the looseness in his limbs and before he knew it, he found himself standing right where he was with you standing where you were previously.

This time, Eric squared his shoulders and ran a hand nervously through his hair. There you were yet again, standing by the fireplace with that drink in your hand.

“No hesitation this time,” he whispered to himself before he made his way over. He barely even paid attention to Juyeon coming in from the side as he struck up a conversation.

“Hey, y/n from professor Kim’s introduction to accounting right?”

You turned to him, looking a little surprised before you smiled warmly at him.

“Yeah! Eric, is it? It’s nice to see you here.”

“How’s things going so far at the party?” He asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. His nervousness was getting to him quickly but the thought of messing up yet again reined him back in and his smile stayed on.

You wrinkled your nose as if considering his question before you replied, “Well, it’s going alright so far. I’m not really a party sort of person but I thought I’d make an exception since you know, Jacob’s my friend.”

“I see! I don’t usually mind parties but I do like…” He paused as he saw Juyeon approaching, the gears in his head whirring away and you looked at him curiously.

“Eric…?”

“How about we go get some peppermint? I hear they have a variety here.” He suggested quickly, his eyes darting towards Juyeon’s direction.

You stared at him, looking a little perturbed but then grinned and nodded. “Sure, I love peppermints.”

Before Juyeon could even make his way over, the two of you had walked away, squeezing past the dancing crowd. The bass beat of the music was so resounding throughout the house that it almost seemed as if the walls were vibrating as well. The glitter and lights all around all looked stunning but perhaps a little too stunning as Eric made his way through the crowd with you just right by him. From all sides, people were accidentally bumping into each other and more than once, he almost lost his balance.

As the two of you neared the candy table, Eric realised too late that perhaps pushing past the crowd had been a bad idea and that a smarter way would be to stay out of the dance floor when he felt himself fall forward. Someone’s foot had been there and without looking, he had tripped over and landed with a huge thud on the floor, flat on his belly. His chin collided with the ground and if he had hit it just a little harder, had the impact been just a tad stronger, he might have suffered a serious injury.

Since you were just trailing behind him, his unexpected fall had sent you falling as well. As the both of you crashed against the ground, some members of the crowd audibly gasped as people shuffled out of the way. Though it may have hurt when he fell, Eric’s heart ached much more than the bruise he would no doubt sport on his knees tomorrow. Seeing you sprawled next to him and knowing all of this happened only because of him, he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole right there and then and leap right in.

A few partygoers reached out to help him up and right next to him, Juyeon appeared in front of you, extending a hand with a look of concern. Eric watched as the two of you looked into each other’s eyes and like in a fairytale princess bedtime story, you reached out tentatively to hold onto Juyeon’s hand as his heart fell to the ground with a messy splat.

“Y/n-”

“Are you guys okay?” Juyeon asked though it seemed as if he was only asking you in general.

“Yeah, we’re alright. Thank you.” You said softly, still seemingly a little frazzled.

“Come, let us go get you seated somewhere.”

Eric couldn’t help but simply stand there and look helplessly as the both of you wandered away, his heart feeling like it was about to shatter into pieces. A second chance he was given and he screwed it up and if that wasn’t enough, he was offered yet another shot which went worse than his first. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe no matter how many times he tried, tonight was just not the night. Or perhaps nothing was ever destined to happen between you two. The jolly christmas music was still playing but he no longer was in the Christmassy spirit anymore.

All he wanted for Christmas was you but it seemed that that didn’t seem so possible anymore, if not impossible.

As the partygoers resumed their dancing, all he could do was plop himself down on the nearby couch and do nothing except nurse not just his fallen pride but also his feelings which never had the chance to express themselves before it got completely shut down.

Grabbing a bottle of ginger ale from a nearby pack, he took a swig and felt the ale burn as it ran down his throat. Usually, he would have loved it but tonight, it just left a bitter taste in his mouth. Keeping his head down, Eric exhaled deeply. He ought to just give up completely.

“Hey, Eric.”

At the sound of your voice, his head snapped up and he gazed up at you with wide eyes. There you were, standing before him and looking down at him as he wallowed in his own feelings. How long have you been standing there? Why were you here?

“Y-y/n?”

You gave him a bashful glance as you sat yourself next to him. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I… I… “ He simply stared at you, his mouth gaping like a fish and looking absolutely flummoxed. “Didn’t Juyeon-”

“I couldn’t possibly leave you alone.” You hurried to say and when he didn’t reply, you continued. “Do you… Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

It took Eric a second for it to register in his mind what you had just asked of him before he grew flustered just as the joy in him began to spark.

“Do I mind? No! Of course not! You’re welcomed here! Please, sit with me!”

As he chattered on nervously, you couldn’t help but admire the way his eyes would light up whenever he talked and how charming his smile was. He was in the habit of moving his hands around a lot which though some might find annoying, you only found to be endearing. You could feel your heart beating quickly which always happened whenever you were near him, saw him around class or even just at the mere mention of his name.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself clench on tightly to the couch, the excitement in you simply immeasurable. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt the weight of the vial in your pocket. A worthy bargain indeed from the mysterious pink haired boy.

This was all you wanted for Christmas.

[thatonesadending]

Power of Words - Chapters 5

Molly is overwhelmed with how much has changed, including his body. Caleb helps him feel a bit more normal.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31056542

It could have been minutes, or hours, that Molly sobbed into Caleb’s neck. He didn't have a grip on time, let alone his current reality, so he let himself cry until his voice was hoarse, and his cheeks tight with dried tears. He wasn't sure when he had sunk to the floor, but Caleb had gone with him, holding him close, cradling Molly in his arms as he sobbed his way to exhaustion.

It wasn't that Molly was sad or unhappy really, but he was experiencing a sort of onslaught of grief of his own death. Of all the adventures he missed, the moments he didn’t get to share. Complicating it was that he knew that his friends, people he had grown to love over an impossibly short time, now had images of him hurting them that he didn’t have. Why else had they been scared of him, wary of his return?

And then there was the issue of him. This body. The coat had helped ground him, but it only lasted a short while. Every reflection in the glass that he caught, every flinch when he approached one of the Nien too fast, every time he looked at his own hands and saw the missing rings and golden caps on his fingers … It reminded him of the fact that he had been lost, and someone else had been piloting this body.

The mixture of all the upsetting feelings, with the beauty of all the ways he had been remembered - preserved - created chaos of spilling out feelings that he couldn't help but let out in embarrassing sobs. The only thing that was coxing him back was Caleb’s hand, drawing circles on his back, humming some lullaby he faintly recognized.

There had been a time before, when he had come out empty and hollow from the grave he had been left in, that the only way Yasha had been able to calm him was to sing him a song meant for the Gods. A prayer pressed to melody. Caleb was humming it now, while rubbing his back. When he was able to steady his breathing enough, Molly managed to ask him about the song.

“How do - did Yasha give you the song?” His voice was still quiet, more of a whisper, but the ever preceptive Caleb still heard him.

“Yes, she shared it with me on a particularly hard night, seeing as we both can speak celestial.”

Molly had never thought to ask what language the song had been in, so many languages and things had been forign to him at the time. It didn't surprise him that Caleb had memorized it. He wanted to thank Caleb again, but it wouldn’t have conveyed how actually grateful he was. He stayed there for a few more moments, his cheek pressed to the man's chest, horn resting on his shoulder, and his tail wrapped tightly against his waist. It was only until he felt the ache of tiredness in his own bones, and remembered who he was holding on to, that he let go.

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“It is alright Mollymauk, I only care that you are okay.”

Caleb didn't let Molly get very far in his self-conscious retreat, clasping him at the elbows and looking him firmly in the eyes. Molly wasn’t okay, but he also wasn’t not. He was caught in between glee at being alive again, and horror that someone else had been living for him in the meantime. And then there was that unspoken dread, the one that he was constantly trying not to think of, because what if Lucien ….

“It is alright to need time. I will do everything in my power to give you all the time you need to be okay.” Caleb’s words were like an incoming tide, slowly washing away at the edges of Molly’s worries.

“I am n- it’s just that…” He struggled find the words to try to express how he was feeling everything too much right now, and he really wanted to feel just like himself. Caleb stayed silent and just waited until Molly could compose himself to try again. “It’s a lot. The whole dying, being possessed by your former self - well a sad sack of a soul that was not me- and then living again to-” Molly gestered the gorgeous window and room that surrounded them. “-and still feel, I don't know, like I am not really here. Like I haven't earned the right to it.” Molly hadn’t really understood the weight of his emotions until he spoke aloud, and then he felt his eyes threatened to spill again. But of course, Caleb came to his rescue once more.

“Ah, I think I understand. I believe I can help, if that is alright?”

How Caleb could do anything more for him was beyond imaginable. He had already brought Molly back from his unconscious prison and a chance of life, given him a not only decadent room but one that represented his life, and most of all - Caleb had offered Molly an incredibly close embrace when he needed to cry out the most. Still, he chose to follow the human when they disentangled, and he had been led to the gorgeous red vanity he had admired before.

Caleb pulled out the overstuffed stool, and motioned for him to sit. He did so, admittedly a tad cautiously, since he didn't know what Caleb wanted from him. Nervous hands pulled out the top long drawer, but Molly couldnt take his eyes away from Caleb’s face, trying to see why the man was suddenly shy. He was used to Caleb being reserved, self-deprecating, humble to a fault, that was until he came back, and he found himself with a wizard that was more self assured and hopeful.

“My memory is not perfect, close, but - um - some things can be misremember, so if you would like any changes or if I got anything wrong …”

He looked down at the drawer as Caleb spoke. It was lined in a lavender velvet that almost perfectly matched his skin. Inside was every single piece of jewelry that he was currently missing, the outlandish bits of glitter and gold that Molly had used to set himself apart. From his earrings, the chains that had been in his horns, to the cuffs he had worn around his tail.

“I am not sure which set you would like. I tried to capture each I could remember.” Caleb was being far too modest. There laid perfect versions of every variation of his jewelry from when they had met in Trostenwald to when they left Hupperdook.

“The last ones.” His voice was still rough from crying, but Caleb ignored it and started to lift the various pieces from its place. Molly had wanted to say ‘Oh the ones that I was wearing when I died.’, but he didn't. He didn't want to taint why these were his favorite. How he had eavesdropped on Jester trying to convince Yasha to tell her which one he would like more, the horn cuff with matching  jade studs, or the crescent at the end of a teardrop earring that had a chain that would connect at the top of his ear. While Yasha had tried to convince her money would be better spent elsewhere, Molly could remember Nott sneaking up and simply pocketing both sets. She later presented them to Molly in front of the other women. “That shop was horrible, nothing worth taking, but they wouldn’t leave … so here.” He knew she hadnt meant it, that she was actually offering friendship, not earrings. He took and cherished them all the same.

Caleb was gentle, fastening the earrings with care, being impossibly soft with his horns while he placed the jewelry. Molly didn't say a word, Caleb knew where every bit went. He hadn’t meant to screw his eyes shut, but it was the only way to prevent more tears, those of anxiety, from falling. It wasn't until he felt a thumb slowly pressing gentle circles at the base of his horns, that he was able to blink his eyes open again. Caleb was kneeling in front of where he sat, hands still massaging this temple.

“Would you like to look?” he asked. Molly nodded, though only after a moment. Caleb pulled out a hand mirror, as though he knew that he couldn't turn to look at himself in the large one hanging above the vanity quiet yet. He took the matching ornate mirror and looked at just his horns, then to his ears, and then to his face. His horns and ears were familiar, grounding him in the memories that he felt were just yesterday. They gave him considerable relief compared to the reflections he had caught earlier, that looked nothing like him, but that of Lucien.

It was when he got to his actual face, did he feel the weight of sorrow again. It was still him, of course, but his hair was long and the curls greasy were uncared for. His lips were wind chapped and cracking. The hallows of his cheeks were more pronounced. It was only then that Molly realized how much weight he had lost, his already slender frame now reduced to just what was necessary. It was obvious that Lucien had not cared for his body, not with good food or consideration for its frame.

Molly tried not to let the disappointment show, because the jewelry really had help, and he appreciated Caleb’s sweetness, but there was still a part of him that was missing, hollow. Try as he might, Caleb apparently had the gods on his side.

“Not enough, ja? That is alright, give me just another moment.”

Molly didn't know how this man knew what was going on in his head, especially when he had only spoken a half a dozen or so sentences since entering this magical room. All the same, Caleb rose from his knees and crossed the room where a thick silk rope hung, and pulled on it twice. He couldn't hear what the other man said, but it was brief, and then Caleb was back his side, opening drawers again.

“I will admit, I do not know your preferences, but these are the cosmetics that Jester prefered, I only altered them to what I thought you might have enjoyed.” Molly chose to ignore the past tense, especially when Caleb pulled out several different vials of hydrating oils, scented balms for blisters, and …. A beautiful array of gold tinted make-up.

“God’s, Caleb! How much did you spend on this?!” Molly couldn’t help admonish while admiring a glistening jar of lavender body oil.

“Nothing but my imagination.” Caleb supplied, as though it was the most natural answer in the world. Catching Molly’s confusion, he continued. “This is actually a demiplane, it only lasts for 24 hours, and you can not take out what you did not bring in other than what you consume.” Caleb looked apologetic, as though that wasn’t work that only Gods should be able to do. “So while you may wear anything you want while you are here, unfortunately if it is made of magic, it won't survive outside of the tower’s walls.” Molly didn’t care, it was grateful just the same for what Caleb was giving him. The wizard handed him a balm for his lips, and opened another drawer and pulled out a delicate-looking comb.

“There is a bath on the other side of the dresser, if you have the energy for that. I am sure Jester would be willing to cut your hair, if you would like. But how about I comb it out first, and you can decide if you want that later?” Caleb’s offer warmed him, so he nodded and let the man comb through the knots of his hair, while Molly took advantage of the balms and lotion. They worked in comfortable silence for several moments. Caleb was careful and calm, relaxing Molly enough that he felt is eyes fall closed again, but this time to just sit and feel the small touches of fingers on his scalp and running through his hair. It wasn’t until he felt a small tap, that he looked and saw a cat he’d never met, somehow holding a bowl of fruits and bread and a large glass of water.

“Ah yes. Thank you.” Caleb took the bowl and set it on the table next to Molly. “If you are hungry. But please, drink this.” The glass of water was pressed into his hands, and Molly readily gulped most of it down. “If you need anything, do not be afraid to ask. The cats will bring you what you need.” How that was possible, was beyond him. But he had also been bitten by a wessel that was also apparently a god, so anything could be possible then.

Molly took a few of the grapes, and let himself relax again as Caleb finished with his hair.

“I am done. Does that feel better?” Caleb asked, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to look again. He did anyways, in the larger mirror on the wall, and was pleasantly surprised. His skin was still a bit pale, but no longer ashy with lack of moisture. He did even mind the longer hair, now that Caleb had worked out the tangles, the longer curls falling past his shoulders. He wondered if Yasha would braid it around his horns. His lips even looked more like his, smoothed and shining from the balm. He pressed his fingers to them and hummed a please affirmative to Caleb.

“Good, would you like me to call fetch Yasha for you?”

Yes. He missed her terribly, it felt like it was just yesterday that he had been terrified about how she was because she had been taken from him by slavers. But he still wasn’t quite ready to confront that.

“In a bit, stay with me?” Molly couldn’t read Caleb’s expression, it was a mixture of surprise and warmth. He didn’t say anything, but followed him to sit on the edge of the ridiculous bed. Caleb seemed to be looking to Molly for clues of what to do, so Molly sat close and rested his cheek on the wizard's shoulder. When he didn't flinch, or stiffen like Molly would have expected, he took it as a sign that this was ok. His tail wrapped lazily around Caleb’s ankle, and he drew little patterns on Molly’s knee. They stayed like that for only gods know how long, in comfortable silence, letting the tiefling clear out his mind from all the clutter and noise the day brought. He was beginning to feel like he could maybe, possibly, start process the day’s emotions.

[doyoufancyathought]

Through The Utility Closet Part 3: Get Tested

Y/N had never been a fan of hospitals. In fact, she had gone above and beyond in her efforts to avoid going to them. She thought she could probably count all of her hospital visits on her fingers. Thankfully, she was a fairly healthy individual, so it wasn't hard for her to stay out of the Emergency room. They were too sterile, too clean, and everyone was always bustling and grumping around, and poking and prodding all the time. Y/N knew that the hospital wasn't supposed to be an enjoyable place to spend time, but she definitely was of the opinion that steps could be made to make it at least comfortable. Or hospitable, if you'll excuse the joke.

Still, she was in a new dimension, apparently, and so exceptions must be made when it comes to personal dislikes against institutions. She wanted to get home, after all, and this was a necessary step. In order for these scientists to send her back home, they must figure out where exactly she is from, otherwise they could end up sending her to a completely wrong place or time or what have you, and that would just be a disaster.

Once she was up on the exam table, Y/N did her best to appear friendly to the business-like nurse. She was quick and efficient as she hooked Y/N up to at least different machines, and tied a rubber band around her upper arm. For a moment, Y/N was worried that these strangers might be shooting her full of drugs, but then she remembered that this was simply routine for drawing blood. She hoped that medical procedures weren't too different in this world from her own.

Y/N was relieved when the nurse brought in a tray of empty vials and begin to explain what she was doing.

"I'm going to draw some blood so we can do some tests. I'll also need a hair sample, and I'm going to do a saliva swab as well, just so we can take a look at your DNA. How's that sound?"

"Invasive."

The nurse smiled. "I promise you'll barely feel a thing. The swab will be oral, same as checking for strep."

The nurse did her tests, and then let a few scientists in lab coats in. They pulled up chairs in front of the exam table and introduced themselves, although Y/N forgot their names as soon as she heard them.

"Okay, so I guess the first question is for you to introduce yourself and where you're from."

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I'm from (hometown) in (country). I was working at one of my jobs when I fell through an inter dimensional portal and ended up here."

"Good start. Can you tell me about the planetary system from your home world?"

"I guess so." Y/N thought about it for a second, trying to remember those astronomy lessons from many years ago. "Earth is the third planet from the Sun, which is the centre of the system. Then there's Mercury, Mars, Earth, Saturn, Jupiter, Uranus, Pluto, and I think I'm missing some. I can't remember the order, sorry, I've never been good at planets."

"That's all right. Can you tell me how many days in a year?"

"365."

"And how old are you?"

"22."

"And how old do people usually live to be?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe anywhere from 70 to 90 years?" Should have paid for attention in stats class.

"How big are spiders in your world?"

"Some of them are super tiny, like you can barely see them. And then some of them are huge, like a dinner plate."

"I see. And how big are chickens?"

"What?"

"How big are chicken? I know it's a weird question, but some worlds have gigantic chickens that actually prey on humans."

"Thats, um, disturbing. But my chickens are normal size? Like small enough to fit in an oven."

"Ok, well that's good. "

There where more questions like this, some about history and some about geography and flora and fauna. When they were all done, the scientists discussed for a minute by themselves.

"Okay, well, from what we can tell, your world is incredibly similar to our own, with the major differences likely being social development. You say you don't have the Avengers in your world?"

"No, we don't have any superheroes or superpowers at all. I wish, though."

"Yeah, that makes sense. How much do you know about inter-dimensional portals?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Ok, well that's fair, it's a tough subject. So pretty much, each dimension has kind of bridges to reach out to other dimensions. When two bridges line up, there's a chance for people or things to cross over."

"Okay, that makes sense I guess."

"A lot of the time, these bridges go unnoticed. Some dimensions are connected permanently, some are connected cyclicly, and some are connected for less than a second at a time, which makes them extra hard to track. You with me so far?"

Y/N nodded.

"Don't worry if you don't get it. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that we might have a hard time tracking down your world."

"Okay, but how long do you think it'll take? How long does it normally take?"

The scientists shifted uncomfortably. "Well that's the thing. There is an infinite amount of universes you could be from, and it'll take a while to narrow it down to just the most likely. From there, we would have to figure out what kind of bridges they all have, and figure out how to predict it, and then figure out a way to send you back."

"Oh, that does sound complicated. So like a month?"

They glanced at each other. "We've never done this before, and we've never sent anyone back through a bridge."

"Two months?"

"Maybe a year."

"What?"

"I said, maybe a year?"

"I'm going to be here for a year."

"Maybe, like I said we've never done this before so we can't really give you an idea of how long it will take."

"Oh my God."

"We're very sorry. We'll give you some space."

The scientists left, and the nurse from before came back in and started unhooking Y/N from the monitors.

"We've run all the tests we need to, dear. Do you have any questions?"

"I have so many questions, I don't even know where to begin."

"That's understandable. We'll have your results back in a few hours, and that'll help the scientists get a head start on where you're from. I've got your clothes here, if you step through that door you'll be able to change in privacy."

Y/N nodded and jumped off of the table, gathering her clothes in her rooms and she quickly walked across the cold floor to the changing room. She pulled on her work clothes, which consisted of jeans and a black t-shirt, but opted to leave the apron and baseball cap off. There was no need to wear them here. Y/N put her shoes back on, simple canvas slip-ons, and reflected on what she had just learned. Here are the facts.

1. She had magically teleported through a door.

2. She was now stuck in a world that apparently had superheroes.

3. The superheroes had no idea how to get her back, or how long it would take to figure it out.

4. She was stuck.

Now, a normal person might cry when they considered this situation. But, Y/N was not a normal person. She had the fun meal-deal of anxiety and depression, and at this moment, she thanked her ill little brain for causing her to overthink every little scenario so she would be prepared for the worst to happen. Of course, none of those thoughts covered time and dimension travel, but they had covered a sudden zombie apocalypse, so it was just a matter of adjusting the survival strategy. Find shelter, find friends, and fight to live.

So far, Y/N had maybe found friends. The Avengers seemed like a friendly bunch, if oddly beautiful, and Sam had offered his basement as shelter. Now, all she had to do was figure out the day to day stuff. Get a job, live a life, and get back to her world.

So she stepped out of the changing room back into the hallway, and say the Avengers gathered around. They all turned to her as the door closed behind her.

"And what did you find out from the scientists, Y/N?" Vision asked.

"Well, they tried explaining how inter-dimensional portals work. That went way over my head. But basically, I'm gonna be stuck here for a while until they can figure out where I'm from and figure out how to get me back. So, I guess I'm going to need to find a job or something pretty quick."

Tony shook his head and stepped to the front of the group. "That won't be necessary. I'm loaded, and I'll make sure you're set up to not need anything."

"Why?"

"Because I want to? You just flew through outer space into a whole new world, and you're worried about getting a job? Come on, live a little! You look like you work too hard. What work do you do?"

"At which job?"

"Well how many do you have?"

"Three."

"Holy moly."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Y/N shrugged. "I get bored."

"So you work?"

"Beats sitting around on my ass."

"Fair point. Well anyways, enjoy the vacation for now, and in the future if you still want a job, we'll have to figure out the proper documents. For now, enjoy your vacation! I'm loaded, and this is the perfect opportunity to share, okay?"

"If you really want to, I mean, I don't mind working."

"Clearly, you have three jobs. Psycho. But no, I don't mind. In fact, I would be offended if you didn't accept my offer."

"Okay, well, then, thanks!"

"No problem. I already gave Sam a credit card for you, so you can go shopping on your way to his house. You do know how to work a credit card, right?"

Y/N grinned. "Yes, Tony, I know how to work a credit card. My world apparently isn't that different from this one, just a few small differences I guess."

"Good. Alright, well, roll out, team."

The Avengers dissipated until it was just Sam, Steve, and James standing around with Y/N.

"So you're still coming with us, right?" Sam asked.

Y/N shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. If you don't mind, of course."

"Not at all. It'll be nice having a girl in the house, for once."

The group of four started walking down the long hallway.

"So do you just collect strays, Sam?" Y/N asked, curious of why he was so eager to offer his spare room to a total stranger.

Before he could answer, Steve cut in. "Yeah, I mean, why else did you think we lived with him?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe you were in a band, or really good gym buddies, or maybe even a throuple."

Sam choked on a laugh, but Bucky and Steve looked confused. "What's a throuple?" James asked.

"It's like a couple, but instead of it being two people, it's three." Y/N explained.

"And you thought?" Steve almost looked offended.

"Look, sorry, I don't know what's normal for you here, and I didn't want to assume it was all platonic!"

Sam was dying laughing. "You thought -" he had to lean on a wall to keep standing upright. "Man, we're just good friends, and these two have absolutely no credit, so it's hard for them to find places to stay."

"Ah. I guess being a superhero might not pay well."

"Well, I mean there are other reasons too, but yeah let's go with that." Steve didn't exactly want to jump this poor girl with the fact that he was also over 100 years old and had been frozen for a while. She had enough to worry about.

Y/N didn't pursue the other reasons, because they had finally exited the building and she was looking around, comparing this new world to her own. It was dark out, because it was night. She looked down the street and saw a McDonalds sign, which made her smile. At least she could have her chicky nugs if things got too tough. Turns out this world was just like hers, just with a bit of a different history. A lot more violence, hence the need for superheroes.

They got into the car, and Sam drove them to a mall, where they spent an hour and a half hopping around to different stores to get stuff. Y/N got used to spending someone else's money, and she definitely took advantage of the three guys following her around who offered, nay, insisted on carrying her bags. However, she insisted on going into the drugstore alone so she could collect toiletries.

She grabbed a cart (and honestly who uses a cart in a drugstore unless you have serious money to spend) and spent about 45 minutes going up and down most of the aisles to find what she needed. Luckily, the products were exactly the same as she was used to, so it was only a matter of finding exactly what she needed.

When Y/N finally walked out, she spotted her new companions sitting down on one of those middle-of-the-mall benches that are intended for senior citizens and mothers with rowdy children and men waiting for women to finish their shopping.

"Got everything you need?" Sam asked as he stood up and stretched.

"Yup."

"Alright, let's head home. You feel like pizza for dinner?"

"What's pizza?" Y/N deadpanned, and the three guys looked shocked.

"You don't know what pizza is?" Steve asked.

"Nope, never heard that word before in my life."

"Seriously?"

"Why would I joke about it?"

"You've never had pizza before." James reiterated.

"Nope. What is it?"

"No, you gotta experience it." Sam smiled and started walking back the way they had come.

Steve and James were perfect gentleman, and oddly strong as well, but Y/N again did not complain when they grabbed her bags from the drugstore. She opened doors for them as they went out to the parking lot.

Once they were back in the car, Sam got on his phone and ordered pizza that would be delivered right as they got home, provided traffic cooperated. Y/N spent the drive looking out the window at all the lights and people she saw, and didn't pay much attention to the conversation the guys were having. Nothing looked too out of the ordinary, except for the whole superhero thing.

Once they got to Sam's house, a tidy little bungalow in a quiet neighbourhood, they unloaded the car and headed inside. Steve and James ran downstairs to put Y/N's bags in her room, while Sam gave her a tour.

As they were walking down a hallway, Y/N stopped to look at family pictures hanging on the wall.

"Is this your family?" She asked.

"Yeah, that's my sister and her two boys. They've grown a lot since that picture was taken though."

"They look like lots of fun."

"They're a handful, that's for sure."

"And these are your parents?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "They passed a few years ago, that's the last picture we ever took of them both together."

"Oh I'm so sorry." Sam shook his head as Y/N reached out to touch his arm. "They have really kind eyes." She said, her gaze returning to the picture.

"They were the kindest people I've ever known." Sam said, and just then, the doorbell rang. "Sounds like the pizzas here."

Y/N could hear the two boys thundering back up the stairs as she followed Sam to the front door. She expected that he would need help carrying all the food in.

She was right. The delivery driver had to go back to his car to get a second load of pizza. Y/N brought the first load into the kitchen and got a few plates down from the cupboard.

"Oh, good, you found the plates!" Sam said as he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later.

"Yeah, lucky guess."

They set the table in silence as Steve and James washed up, and then they sat down for dinner.

Sam decided he wanted to know more about Y/N. "So, Y/N, tell us a little bit about yourself."

"Ok, well," Y/N hated this questions, because how do you boil yourself down to just a few facts? She just wished people would ask direct questions, because she could answer questions if they were clear. She hated vagueness. "I'm 22, I still live, or lived, with my parents. I like dogs. My favourite colour is yellow. I have three jobs, as a nanny, in retail, and also at a Bubble Tea shop in my hometown. What else do you want to know?"

"Well that's a lot. Why do you have three jobs?" Steve asked.

Y/N shrugged, having to explain her workaholic tendencies twice in a day. "I get bored. And I like working, keeps life interesting."

"I'll bet. What do you do for fun?"

"I read a lot. And I like to go to the lake. And crochet."

"What kind of books do you read?" Steve asked.

"It depends. Sometimes fantasy, sometimes mystery. I read a lot of those cheap drugstore romances."

"Wait, you crochet?" Sam asked. "What are you, a grandma?"

"Like a crazy, chaotic grandma, kinda. I drink a lot of tea and wear a lot of sweaters, sorry for being comfy!"

They went back and forth for a few minutes. "How do you like the pizza?" Sam asked.

"Well," Y/N waggled her head back and forth, debating how to break the ruse. "Not the best I've ever had, but it's close."

"Wait, you've had pizza before?"

"Yes."

"You said before though-"

"And you believed me?Rookie move, gentlemen."

"Why would you trick us?" They weren't mad, just a little confused. And amused. James hadn't really said much since they sat down for dinner, but he grinned and chuckled at the confused looks on his friends faces.

Y/N shrugged. "Gotta keep you guys on your toes, yaknow?" They all laughed. "But hey, tell me more about you guys. You're super soldiers? What does that even mean?"

Sam and Steve took turns explaining who they were, and how the Avengers came to be. They didn't touch too much on James, who excused himself fairly into the evening. He was a little shy and quiet around newcomers, apparently, but Y/N wasn't bothered. She had bigger things to worry about than someone being shy around her.

When the talking turned to yawns, Sam offered to show Y/N to her room. He took her down the stairs into the basement, which opened up into a spacious rec room. There was a massive TV and a pool table. Down a short hallway were the two previously spare rooms, both of which were now occupied by strays that Sam had picked up. The only bathroom was unfortunately across the basement, but Y/N didn't foresee any problems with that.

Sam explained how every room had it's own colours for sheets and towels and stuff, and Y/N was very impressed with how domestically organized he was turning out to be.

Sam went back upstairs, and Y/N took a few minutes to settle in. She would unpack and run her new clothes through the laundry tomorrow, but for now all she wanted was a hot shower and a good long nights sleep.

She went into the bathroom, and saw that James had already made space for her stuff in the shower caddy, on the towel rack, and in the medicine cabinet above the sink. With a smile on her face, she put her few new belongings in those empty spaces, then drug herself through the shower and fell into her bed, exhausted.

Before her eyes closed, Y/N considered what had happened to her today. In a new dimension, living with three strange yet wonderful men, something that would be sure to give her mother a heart attack. And yet, she was excited for the morning to come. Part of her hoped that when she opened her eyes again, she would wake up in her home world, and she would be surrounded by people she knew and recognized. That's what a normal person would hope for in this situation, right?

But as I've told you before, Y/N is no normal person, and the other part of her was wishing that when she woke up, she would still be here, in Sam's house. She wanted to opportunity to explore, so see what else was out there. Maybe she'd discover a new life, a new chance to be the person she had wished to be but never got the chance. Whatever happened, she knew that tomorrow would be full questions, and hopefully a few answers. She hoped, anyways.

[hoodie-lover]

A Friend Like Me Ink Edition

“Looks like such a beat-up worthless piece of junk.” Maxie said as she inspected the old wooden paint brush.

“Hey, I think there’s still some use out of it, but it’s hard to paint with.” Beatrice said as she dipped it in dark paint and put it on a canvas. But it glowed a bright light, and burned her hand. 

It shot sparks of all colors, exploding into fireworks. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Zack screamed as he ducked under a table in their small art studio. 

It spun as a dark smoke emerged from the brush, revealing a brown clothed skeleton floating in mid air. He wore a shirt shirt with a yellow stripe and brown top. He also had a brown artist's glove with mint-green fingers. Though he did have brown overalls, the top part fell over him and wasn’t secured. Rainbow paint vials with heart-shaped tops were secured to a black sash. 

“Aaaaahhhhh!” He screamed, his eyes glowing and a sinister grin on his face. 

“Oy! 10,000 years will give you such a crick in the neck.” He said, cracking his neck, however that worked and his mouth didn’t move as he spoke. He got up close to the trio, giving them a quick look over as he got excited. 

“Hang on a second.” He said as the three friends were placed onto invisible wall hooks.

“Whoa! Whoa! Does it feel good to be outta there!” He said spinning his head and stretching.

He had a long scarf that trailed into a puff of smoke, it also was a dark brown and transitioned into a pale brown. He then turned the end of the smoke trail into a microphone and held it to his mouth. 

“I’m telling you, nice to be back, ladies and gentlemen.” He said, waving to a crowd that wasn’t there. 

“Hi. Where y’all from? What’re your names?” He said, bringing the mic to them and waiting for the stunned trio to speak. 

“Uh… Uh, Maxie.”

“Zack.”

“Beatrice.”

They were all hopelessly confused at this stranger. 

“Maxie, Zack, and Beatrice. Hello Maxie, Zack and Beatrice. Nice to have you on the show.” He said, making a billboard with their names and glowing in rainbow colors. 

“Can we call you Max? Or maybe just Xie?” He said, fiddling with his scarf as he spelled the nicknames in the air with sparkles. 

“How about Trixie?” Sounds like ‘Heya Trixie!’” He said, making himself look like a traditional high school prep girl as he laughed. 

“We must have hit our heads harder than we thought.” Zack said, he was rubbing his head as he looked at the girls, they nodded as well. 

“Do any of you smoke? Mind if I do?” The skeleton said as he poofed and returned to his normal self. 

“Oh sorry guys. Hope I didn’t singe the canvases.” He said, looking at the run down shed he was in as he surveyed the sketches. 

“Yo, Broomy. Haven’t seen you in a few millennia.” Ink said as he waved to the brush which came to life and grew to his height, which was four feet. 

“Give me some bristles. Yeah. Yo, yo.” Ink bumped hips with the brush and high-fived the brush.

“Say, I’ve never had more than one master.” He said, counting them off.

“Either that or I’m seeing triple.” He said, sprouting two more heads before quickly dissipating them. 

“Hold on one moment, how many rocks do you see?” he said, pointing to the three rocks Maxie brought in for a diorama she needed to make for a school project. 

“Wait a minute. We’re your masters?” Zack said, even more confused. 

“That’s right. They can be taught.” Ink said, snapping his fingers as graduation caps and diplomas appeared in their hands before disappearing in a puff of smoke. 

“What would you wish of me?” Ink asked, gearing up for a few tricks.

“The ever impressive,” He made large muscles for himself as he flexed. 

“the long contained,” Getting smaller as he was in a glass box.

“the often imitated,” He ventriloquist doll was in his lap as it said the words in a high pitched voice. 

“but never duplicated...” Duplicates of Ink said the word duplicated in a weird echo effect. 

“Guardian of the Brush! Name’s Ink.” He said, summoning sunglasses that he slid down as he winked. 

“Right here direct from the brush, right here for your very much needed artistic assistance.” He said, bowing. 

“Thank you.” Ink waved at an imaginary crowd. 

“Wait. Artistic assistance?” Maxie said, and Ink nodded. 

“As much as you need, to be exact. Per master so that’s infinity times three.” Ink said, question marks in his eyes as he contemplated what he had just said. 

“No substitutions, exchanges, or refunds.” He said as he had three beaten wooden signs appear in front of the three. 

“Now we know we’re dreaming.” Zack said, and everyone nodded. 

“Masters, I don’t think you quite realize what you’ve got here.” He said, gasping as he held his hands to his face.

“So why don’t you ruminate whilst I illuminate the possibilities.” He sat them down on the floor and began to glow. 

“Well Avatar had them three seasons. Gravity Falls had a thousand mysteries.” Ink said, duplicating himself three times before they surrounded the tiro, holding brushes dripping with paint and pointing at them. 

“But masters you’re in luck 'cause up your sleeves, you got a brand of magic that never fails!” Ink said as he snapped his fingers and the duplicates vanished. 

“You got some power in your corner now. Some heavy ammunition in your camp. You got some punch, pizzazz, yahoo and how.” Fireworks and rockets went off inside the shack as it seemed to get bigger, the things in it fading to black. Ink himself was a firework as he exploded and pulled up his living brush. 

“See all you gotta do is use that brush!” Ink cried out making the three shake hands with Broomy. 

“And I'll say ‘Mister Creators, sirs, what will your pleasures be?” Ink said, appearing in a puff of smoke as his voice boomed. 

“Let me take your orders. Jot it down,” Ink was now a french waiter who had them sat down at a table. 

“You ain't never had a friend like me!!” Ink cried out, winking at nobody.

“Life is your restaurant. And I'm your maitre d'!” Ink cried out, placing a turkey on the table, but his head became the main part of the chicken before they could eat it. 

“C'mon whisper what it is you want.” Ink grew an ear that grew bigger.

“You ain't never had a friend like me!” Ink said, once again making more duplicates as they surrounded the trio. 

“Yes sirs, we pride ourselves on service.” Now the three friends were in a spa and being cared for by the Ink clones. 

“What the hell is going on?!” Zack cried out as he tried to kick one. 

“You're the bosses!” Ink said, propping them on large fancy chairs made of gold and velvet.

“The kings, the gods!” Ink once again said, duplicates fanning them with large palm leaves. 

“Say what you wish, it's yours, true dish.” Ink said, making more food appear before them. 

 “How about a little more buttsctoth pie?” And the dish in question flooded the room. 

“Have some of column A,” They found themselves on top of a large pillar, about to fall off any second. 

“Try all of column B!” Which they did into a pile of art supplies as they continued to fall. 

“You bastard!” Maxie cried out, she hated heights. 

“I'm in the mood to help you dudes.” Ink said, catching them on a pillow as he opened his mouth. 

“You ain't never had a friend like me!” A smaller but more dapper version of himself came out and began to dance. 

“Can your friends do this?” Ink took off his head and began to juggle it along with more copies of it.

“Do your friends do that?” He threw the heads at them, and miraculously they could also juggle them, before Beatrice screamed and threw them at the headless body. And Ink’d was right where it was supposed to be. 

“Do your friends pull this out their little hat?” He turned into a hat and popped out as a big pink rabbit. 

“Can your friends go poof?” The pink rabbit became a dragon which spewed a large stream of flames. 

“Well, looky here~!” Ink said as the flames took vaguely humanoid shapes and began to dance very suggestively. 

“Can your friends go, Abracadabra, let 'er rip!” Ink ripped himself in half.

“And then make the sucker disappear?” Right after he literally split the flames poofed out. 

“So don't cha sit there slack-jawed, buggy-eyed.” Ink’s jaw fell off and he grew organic looking eyes when he said the corresponding phrase. 

“I'm here to answer your all nighter prayers.” Ink said as he summoned a desk with a drawing tablet and gave himself disheveled clothes and large bags under his eyes. 

“You got me bona fide, certified.” Ink was now a certification sheet and wrapped them up in the paper. 

“You got a helper for your struggling affairs.” Ink unrolled and the three were released as they tried to get their footing. 

“I got a powerful urge to help you out.” Ink was still large and used a finger to steady them. 

“So what-cha want?” Ink leaned in as if he were trying to hear better. 

“I really want to know!” He leaned in closer. 

“You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt.” Ink pulled a piece of paper from Zack’s ear and used it as a jump rope before he popped it on the ground. 

“Well, all you gotta do is use like so - and oh!” Sparks flew from the ground and the trio were transported to a new place. 

“Mister Creators, sirs, I have a master, two and three.” Ink counted them off, each turning a different color as he did so. Maxie was blue, Beatrice was yellow, and Zack was red. 

“I'm on the job, you big heartthrob.” Ink said as he did the equivalent of a kiss on Zack’s cheek, causing Zack to slap Ink. 

“You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend. You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend.” Ink said as he summoned a circus and had dancers and dancing animals. 

“You ain't never had a friend like me!” Golden buildings and music filled the area as more and more dancers came up and fireworks went off.

“You ain't never had a friend like me! Hah!” All of it vanished in a flash and Ink was floating on air, with an applause sign above him as he grinned smugly. 

Broomy clapped enthusiastically, which earned him a slap from Zack.

[insane-control-room]

The Concept, Chapter Three

Lobotomy

To lose a section of one’s brain via an outdated and inhumane, and clearly murderous surgery for mental illnesses.

Several warnings, dear reader; depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, murder, death, loss of limbs, blood, graphic description of a corpse, drowning, child loss, another attempted rape, and painful words.

Chapter One - Chapter two

He could not hold the ink vial steady.

Jittery, oh so shaky. His hands shook and trembled, and he constantly had to adjust his grip on the pen as he drew the cartoons. He tried not to scream. Every moment, every day, he tried to hold back the aching cry in his chest, clawing at his lungs.

He tried for so hard for so long, and he was so tired… so so tired… he could sleep forever… and ever… and never wake up….

He wanted to see Aramis again… he wanted to see his father again… he wanted to join them, wherever they were, he wanted to be with his family, his family that was torn away from him so quickly, so young… he was so young, and he felt so old, so tired, his bones creaking, his muscles failing, his head aching, his hands stiff and shaky, everything so ruinous and decimated. So corrupted, so disgusting.

What a waste of space.

Johan stayed as far away from the binary computer as possible, hiding in the corner of his bed as the bright, toxic, addictive green beckoned him, he hating every time he gave in to the temptation, giggling the night away as numerical dopamine filled his brain and limbs.

He would never amount to anything, only ones and zeros.

Henry filled his dreams, his, unreal, ghostlike, lips pressed to his, and Joey regretted ever allowing him to kiss him, now trapped by this reminder that they could never be together.

He drank often, now not only using the invisible drug but also the alcohol to drain away his emotions. Bertrum tried to get him to talk, Shawn tried to cheer him up (he accidentally snapped at the Irishman, guilt flooding his system, apologizing a day later), Susie offered to take him to a nice coffee shop (when was the last time he left the studio?), Grant asked if he wanted help with his math, everyone spoke quietly about him behind his back, discussing if anyone should go out and find Henry and get him to visit them, as Joey was clearly losing his grip on reality, if he ever even had one.

He was lost, confused, and more alone than ever, the loneliness of being surrounded by people you do not dare tell your problems to.

So many names flooded the desk with the computer on it, the ink machine always hungry for more souls to chip away at.

Black, black ink, swallowing him up, drowning him.

He drowned himself in his work, creating more formulas on his computer to help him do more work in less time, like the insomnia code, the two times speed code, all little bits and pieces to create the toons faster.

He hated Alice Angel.

Not really.

Hatred is when one destests something, as an eye color or a sickness, hatred is a severe aversion to something, as to the sight of blood or the mentioning of higher beings, hatred is a passionate desire to see something utterly removed, like competition or step siblings.

He did not hate Alice Angel. He felt melancholic toward her, feeling saddened and hurt.

She did nothing wrong, afterall, she could do nothing aside from what she was made to do.

It hurt to draw her.

Such a lovely character, such flow, such grace, so beautiful. Everything Henry made was so beautiful, so wonderful, such a stunning creation.

Johan knew he was losing touch with reality.

He put on a bigger and better act.

Be Joey Drew.

Be the man that would be better than you in every possible way.

Be confident, be intelligent, be suave, be smart, be cunning, and smile!

Smile.

Keep grinning, even though your smile is the most disgusting thing to darken the earth, such a pitiful and stretched smile.

Pathetic. Useless, unnecessary piece of scrapable coding.

The abuse he hissed within his own mind kept him smiling.

At least someone could tell how much of a burden he was.

Even if it was just himself.

People noticed his change in attitude, but quickly learned not to mention it.

A quiet, “Really now?” seemed more dangerous than any threat.

Were there not more workers here before?

Were there?

No one remembered that there were more workers.

Joey did not erase them.

He did not.

He did not.

He did not.

Please….

He did not.

He stared at the computer and the list of fired workers, fired for incompetence and lack of productivity, and he was terrified that he would delete them.

He did not want to, and he forced himself back from the thought of ever doing it.

Never. He could not give in to the addiction.

Then he realized what happened.

He no longer needed the computer to erase someone, he found that out much to his horror and abhorrence. He had been watching a worker, after doing nothing for a week, getting drunk in the public room. Johan was about to go over and fire, him, wishing to delete him instead, but not wanting to fall to the temptation, when the man was gone. Erased.

Without the computer.

Johan ran to his room, hiding from himself, shaking with disgust and terror.

He vomited. Blood, ink, and numbers spilled from his insides.

What had he done to himself?

What was he?

He shakily grabbed a knife, preparing to dig into his skin to find out what sort of demon was hiding in the body of a human, but threw away the knife as soon as the blade reached his skin.

It embedded with a crack in his mirror.

He stared at his reflection, nonchalantly noting that the knife was directly on his throat, cutting his head from his body.

It made him giggle.

Oh, what fun!

Lose one’s head?!

Fun! Magical, airy, freeing!

His giggle turned into laughter, and the laughter erupted into howls, the howls into sobs.

He dropped his head between his knees as he cried.

He felt the buzz of the drug being slipped into his system, and he jolted up violently, stumbling to the computer, trying to stop himself. He collapsed in front of the glowing device, removing the narcotic from his body.

He grounded himself.

He tangled his hair in his hands, screaming, screaming louder than he ever had, louder than when his father and later his son were killed, putting all his pain and frustrations into releasing through his mouth, screaming to say that yes, he was here, yes, he was hurting, yes, he needed help, god, please, help him! Someone, anyone, for the love of anything good, help him!

Help!

Please… help…

H-help….

Hel-

A knock on his door.

He leapt to his feet.

Who the hell?

“Mista Drew?” Wallace, Wally Franks, asked, his voice muffled and uneasy. “Are ya alright?”

Joey stumbled to the door, dropping the facade, pulling it open and miserably collapsing onto the janitor.

“Oof!” Wally staggered under his height, not his weight, as the man hardly weighed a feather, and stood, stunned, as Joey shook on him. “Well, uh… alright? You okay? Something happen?”

“Wally, you’re such a good boy,” Joey sobbed, his mind registering the fact the man he was crying on was older than him by a year. But he felt so old… so so old… so tired…. “You’re always positive, you always make everyone around so happy, especially your boyfriends, and it’s so wonderful, you’re such a good person….”

“Ya not so bad either, Mista Drew,” Wally questioningly offered, awkwardly patting his boss’ back. Joey laughed a moment before breaking down into another wave of sobs.

“Oh, shit, what are the comfort words,” Wally muttered, scrambling in his brain to look for the right thing to say. “There there?”

Another strangled laugh escaped Johan.

Wally’s eyes wandered into Johan’s apartment, and he gasped.

“Your place is a mess!”

“S’not that bad,” Joey wheezed, gripping the darker man tightly. Wally shoved him carefully back into his home, settling Joey on the couch. Joey grabbed his wrist, looking at him with an almost intoxicated expression, breathing hard. “Please… please don’t leave me alone….”

Wally pulled his hand away, eyeing the cane on the floor. He set it beside the chicano, and got to tidying the room. He was startled at the lack of food in the fridge, he was uneasy at the amount of bottles lining the shelves, but worst of all were the sticky notes of just ones and zeros. The numbers clearly meant something to Drew, whose head was currently in his hands as he trembled with silent sobs.

The room was clean after an hour. Joey sat him down, and mumbled a, “Wait here.”

He came out of his room with two hundred dollars, giving them to Wally.

“Thank you,” he quietly told the janitor, and Wally’s chest constricted as he saw the absolute sincerity in Joey’s eyes. “For everything. You’re a great worker, and such a nice person. All my wishes for you are for the best.”

“Mista Drew, ya don’t need to gi-”

Joey cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t be silly, Wally,” he huffed with a light smile. He looked so tired. “Keep the money. I don’t have anything to spend it on, anyways.”

Wally reluctantly pocketed the bills.

He tipped his cap and walked out.

“I’m outta here,” he said, shrugging and smiling, “See ya tomorrow, Mista Drew.”

Johan came to wish he never did.

The next day started normal enough, with disgusting coffee (nothing he put in it seemed to make it taste any better, so he went to his computer with a huff and reset his energy from twenty five to one hundred percent), going down to his office, and reviewing the meetings he had planned for the day.

He met with the doctor, who frowned and informed him that he lost more weight and his polio was worsening. Joey had nothing to say in response, merely hanging his head in shame at such a pathetic body. The doctor smiled and tapped him, telling him to keep his chin up.

He said he would try.

He was informed of a mecha leak in the spider ride, followed by an ink spill in the same location, and how they would have to wait a day for the ink and oil to seperate to drain it.

He had another two meetings before the one he dreaded approached.

Jonathan Derekson.

Johnny the organist.

He tried animating to calm his nerves, tried drinking some tea, tried to breathe, but nervousness clouded all his actions. He was terrified. So he straightened his jacket, adjusted his pin, and sat down, stopping his pacing.

Johnny appeared in the doorway, leaning in it. Joey’s vision blurred, his memories meshing with the present.

“Hello, Mr. Drew,” Johnny smiled, looking down at the tall man seated and pale in his office chair. “My concerns are on the organ. So if you please, I’ll join you upstairs as you are bound to use the…” his eyes landed on Joey’s cane, and his smirk grew as Joey flushed, “elevator. I’ll take the stairs.”

“Alright.” Johan forced his voice to be clear and not meek. Not unassertive. He had to be strong, no matter how much he wanted to lash out and avoid this man. He made his way out the door, waiting for Johnny to leave first. “I’ll meet you there.”

He got up achingly, pushing himself up with his cane. So slowly, little steps, his eyes drifting shut with exhaustion. How did he run out of energy so quickly? Why was he so tired? So… very… tired….

“Joey, wake up,” a hand on his arm shook him out of his stupor. Grant was gazing at him with worry. Not concern, but worry. He was already on the elevator, when had that happened? “Joey, are you alright? You look… well, putting it frankly, really unhealthy. Are you sick or something?”

Grant reached up to feel the sides of his neck, checking for a fever. Nothing.

Johan looked at him blearily.

“I’m okay, just tired,” Joey sighed, and smiled (SMILE SMILE SMILE) at Grant. “I’ll see you in a few hours Mr. Cohen. As a quick go over, things are well, I assume?”

“Yes, Mr. Drew,” Grant smiled back and nodded. His smile was so much nicer, so much more real, so much purer and cleaner than Joey’s could ever be. “Far better than if anyone else ran this business. I’m honestly shocked by how much you alone make a week! Two animations for each one of the animators’, and running this whole place on top of it! It’s rather unbelievable.”

“Anything can happen with a little belief,” Joey remarked, forcing his smile wider. Just keep believing it will all be over soon. Grant nodded. Joey wanted to ask him for help, for comfort, for something, anything to ground him. Instead, he got off the elevator, and said, “See you soon.”

He drummed his knees, his useless knees, as he waited for Johnny in the organ room.

Being slammed to the wall, a hand on his che-

Stop.

Choking on something that absolutely should not be in his mo-

STOP.

Chuckles and grunts and wood in his hands, gripping his pants in silent ple-

S T O P.

His hands slammed on the organ’s keys, panting heavily as he leaned over it, his vision pulsing. Breathe. Breathe. It was over. It would not happen again.

It would not.

There was nothing to worry about.

Nothing. At. All.

He looked at the stark white keys against his black hands.

He was not a mexican of a proper, royal, spanish descent.

No.

He always was from the lower class, his ancestors being whatever slaves were left of Mayans, one of his predecessors was a wife to a conquistador, who fell in love with her as they established an encomienda. The wars and fights!

He hated them.

He set his fingers to the keys.

His father moved them to Night Vale when Johan was two, and he loved it. The town was so warm and inviting, even though quite frightening at first.

He loved Night Vale, and hated, absolutely detested, when he had to leave.

He was seventeen.

His son was killed in his arms not two months before.

He had to get out.

He had to.

Running away was so easy. He only got shot once!

The scar on his arm from it hardly bothered him anymore, most of the bullet fragments dissolved by the toxic ink flowing in his system.

It was picking himself up that was difficult.

Other people would not have such difficulty.

Something was so wrong with him.

So very wrong.

Wrong can mean so many wonderful things! Like something inside out, like a skin that did not fit, blistering and infectious. It can also define something avvering from the truth, a liar, a facade, a faker. Being improper, out of the norm, an outlier, queer, those are all wrong things. Wrong is when one is out of order, a mess, broken down, falling apart, lost. When your morals are turned on their head. When you no longer can control yourself. That is wrong.

Johan knew he was so wrong.

Such a blight.

A curse. A ruin. Broken. Queer. Wrong. Wrong wrong wro-

An off key note drew him back to the right reality, not the one in his mangled and twisted brain.

He swallowed, replacing his long, bony, macilent hands on the keys.

He trembled.

He needed help.

He needed someone, anyone, to help him.

He was terrified to ask.

He let out a sob.

“Let me introduce you to the voices in my head….”

He did not even realize he was singing.

He could not stop.

Tears splashed from his eyes.

He yelled the verses that just came to him, lines he was certain would be written in the future.

He sobbed, hoping someone would hear him as he played and sang.

“So won't you save me from myself right now,” he asked the universes, hoping one of them would have one being that could hear his cry, how wrong he knew he was, hoping something could fix him, repair his coding, make him feel better, not feel like he was in someone else’s spot. “'Cause I feel like someone else, somehow….”

His plea died down as the last key faded.

His shoulders shook, so lost, so conflicted, hurting and aching internally and externally, mentally and physically.

Arms wrapped over his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Mr. Drew,” Johnny hummed in his ear, his voice sending horror and pain shooting through his body. Please, never call him that again, that was not who he was. Please, leave him alone, there were only two people that he would rather not have around more than Johnny. Johnny slipped on the piano bench behind him, his legs on either side of Johan’s hips. His hand pressed onto Johan’s mouth. No no no not again, please…. Johan’s vision doubled over, Johnny was in front of him but he felt him behind him, and reality was phasing into memory and memory was smudging into reality, and he could not tell which was which. He suddenly felt like a wronged animal. He had to get away. He had to escape. He jolted in an attempt, but his legs gave out. Damn polio! Damn it, damn it, damn him! Johnny chuckled, flipping their positions, pressing Joey to the piano bench. Joey whimpered, unable to fight back or scream. “Come on, it’s not like you didn’t enjoy last time.”

Johan saw red, yellow error signs swarming everything.

“I DO NOT WANT THIS!” he screamed, his voice shaking the very core of the studio. Johnny looked shocked, then angered, but Joey was too far lost, to fed up, too fatigued and ill. He tried to escape again, but Johnny was so much stronger and held him down with an enraged ease, so all Johan could do was scream. “I DID NOT ENJOY WHAT YOU DID TO ME! YOU FORCED ME TO MY KNEES, YOU MADE ME GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED, I DID NOT WANT IT! I DID NOT LIKE IT! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! GET OFF O-”

Johnny’s hand pushed back onto his mouth. He cried out against it, writhing and struggling.

“I’ll make you like it, this time,” Johnny snarled with a feral grin, his free hand undoing Johan’s belt, making him scream again, muffled once more. Johnny’s hand felt him up, smirking at Joey’s discomfort and clearly hated unwilling pleasure as he struggled beneath him, tears blazing out of his eyes. “You can let yourself enjoy it, or I’ll force you.”

Johan struggled against him, a banging barely audible on the door.

He tried to call for help, but Johnny hit him, grabbing him by his lapel and slamming him onto the piano bench repeatedly, knocking the wind out of him, making him gasp and writhe. Johnny covered his mouth again, hooking a hand into his pants and trying to pull them down.

Johan saw hate.

Joey forced Johnny’s hand off his mouth, punching him as hard as he could.

“Get….” he felt pain and anger and hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE welling up within him, and power burst out of every pore, “OFF!”

There was a flashing, bright light, a miniature atomic bomb, rattling the walls of every building in the city. Johan could feel the ink pulsing out of him, he could feel his code rearranging and snapping into place, he could feel hate and PAIN.

He knew it was his own pain.

It was all wrong.

He whited out.

When he came too, there was the taste of blood on his lips. It was not his blood.

He dizzily got up, his ears ringing.

He saw the feet dangling in his pulsing vision.

Oh no… oh no no no….

He looked up.

Johnny’s body dangled before him.

Johnny was pressed into the organ, nearly flattened to it, his hands splayed with his fingers hanging limply in the skin, the joints dislocated, the metal of the piping warping around each visceral limb, as though an explosion forced him into the essence of the organ. His skull was crushed, his eyes forced out of and swaying from their sockets, his jaw slack and unhinged, his tongue slack and dripping red blood and clear saliva, a dark taunting pink. His blood splayed everywhere, his blood all over Joey, his black suit stained maroon. His blood was dripping in his hair and staining on his glasses, on his once white pants, and Joey? He turned over and retched. There was nothing in his system but ink and numbers mixed with acid, and blood.

Blood, the one liquid he hated most.

He vomited again, tears dripping onto the floor, coupling with the sound of Johnny’s blood doing the same.

He could hear pounding on the door through the ringing in his ears.

“Joey! Open this door! Johnny! Open up!” Jack’s voice barked, but he sounded so far away, like he was underwater. “Damnit, someone find Wally! Or his keys, at least!”

“Help,” Johan choked out. Silence suddenly took over the bable outside. “Help me… help… oh help… please… oh god, what did I do… help….”

“Joey, open the door,” Jack demanded, but in a softer tone. A strangled noise escaped the artist. Jack huffed in exasperation. “I’m getting Sammy.”

Johan pushed himself up, leaning against the wall, forcing himself not to look at Johnny’s mangled corpse.

He inched his way to the door.

“Joey, open the door,” Sammy’s soothing voice asked. “It’s just me.”

Johan gripped the handle.

“Sammy?” he whimpered, his voice cracking and high. A low hum of acknowledgement followed. “Please don’t get mad.”

“I won’t.”

Johan shut his eyes as tight as he could, pulling open the door, his head lowered in shame.

“What did you do?” Sammy gently asked him, Joey standing directly in front of the scene, blocking it from view. The blood glistened on his suit, and Sammy, suddenly sensing the urgency and (unfortunately, he did not notice) the delicacy of the situation, looked over Johan. His eyes widened as he beheld the gore on his employer’s clothing, how disheveled the articles were on his body from the molestation, and his head snapped up to look him in the eye, seeing the tears and the distress he was in. “What did you do, Joey?”

“I… I didn’t want to,” Johan whispered, and stepped back, moving to allow Sammy to see. Agonizing pain, guilt, anger, and loss drowned him as he tried to explain. “He… he was… he wanted… I couldn’t stop him… he wouldn’t get off… I… I….”

“What the goddamn fuck,” Sammy breathed, feeling disgust well within him. A fear of the unnatural joined it, and he spun to face Johan, gesturing at Johnny’s limp form. “What did you do?! What the fuck?! You murdered him, but how the hell?! What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t know, I’m sorry!” Joey stuttered, hunching over and gripping his head as it threatened to split. “I… he was… I couldn’t let him do it again, Sammy, I! He… ARGH! I don’t! KNOW! Please, please don’t tell anyone what he was going to do….”

“Everyone knows, Joey,” he informed him calmly. Joey stared at him in horror. Sammy pointed at the ‘Recording’ sign. The bright yellow ‘ON’ was lit up, making Johan’s stomach turn. “Everyone heard what was happening.”

“Sammy, please, then help me cover this up,” he begged. Sammy shook his head. “Then keep people away while I deal with it!”

“Joey… you need some help.” Sammy firmly stated, taking his wrist. Joey yanked it away violently, his eyes wide and fearful. “Come on. I’m turning you in to professionals.”

“Sammy, no!” Joey gasped, trying not to choke on his tears. Sammy scowled and took his wrist again, more staunchly. Johan, yanked on it as the music director began pulling him out of the hall, attempting to force him to the infirmary. “Don’t you know what they would do to me!? Sammy, haven’t you heard of how awful those places are?!”

“You need to go.” Sammy insisted, turning to him with a blank expression. Johan’s heart shattered again as he took in his mask. “You’ve gone too far.”

“I won’t even make it to the institutions… Sammy, they’ll take me to court,” he whimpered, even as Sammy dragged him further, no longer planning on the infirmary, but heading straight to the police. Allison and Susie stared at the two men, Thomas joining the women, exchanging a look, then the three of them collectively making their way to the pair. “Then they’ll kill me. I’ve got a low intelligence, I’m mexican, and I’m gay, Sammy, I’ve murdered someone in self defense, but they’ll kill me….”

“Take it as a mercy, then.”

Johan snapped, feeling… feeling… feeling….

He saw the coding flash before his eyes.

Just numbers.

Move some from here to there.

Do it.

Do it, everything will be better.

Everything will be okay.

You have no choice, move the numbers, NOW.

Johan gasped as reality sank back in. His hand was on Sammy’s shoulder, and the musician….

Sammy dropped to his knees, his jaw hanging open, and his eyes wide and dull.

Suddenly, shrilly, he shrieked, his hands tugging on his hair.

“BETRAYED! ABANDONED!” he shouted, anger and hurt simmering out of his enraged and distraught voice. “LEFT TO SUFFER, LED TO SLAUGHTER!”

Johan stared at the man he turned insane. He did this. He backed up as Sammy continued his screams of loss and forsakenness.

This was how Johan was feeling.

Sammy was merely out putting the data.

A hand slammed Johan’s head against the wall.

Thomas glared at him when the sparks died down.

“What the hell did you do, Drew?!” he snapped, gesturing an arm at Sammy. “What is this black magic bullshit!?”

“Hk… hhh….” was all Johan managed to choke out, tears and blood clotting his throat. Thomas smacked him again, letting him slide down the wall, and stormed over to Allison, taking his best friend by her arm. Sadness filled Johan at the sight of Susie reaching to her beloved, everything sounding so far away as his head spun from it’s abuse. Thomas was tearing them apart… stop. Stop! “Tom… you’re hurting th’m… stop….”

Thomas rushed at him, anger blazing in his eyes.

The kick landed on Johan’s skull before he could even register he was near.

Blood and numbers splattered out of his lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare start,” Thomas hissed as he coughed and wheezed. “I’ll be back for Sammy and Wally.”

Johan only was aware of the stress levels in the room rising higher and higher, Susie and Allison gesturing toward him in distress, Thomas adamantly shaking his head, and he grasped Allison’s wrist again, pulling her away.

Johan saw the stress rise.

He was hurting them.

Tom was hurting them.

All they wanted was to be together.

“St’p,” he slurred again. Thomas did not listen, and Johan felt anger build up in him. He pushed himself up to stand against the wall. He could only hear Allison and Susie’s upset voices. “Stop!”

There was another flash of all the numbers. Without thinking, Johan pushed the glowing ones and zeros into the blinking slot, shoving back the menacing, dripping ones, the ones that reminded him all too much of a fallen angel.

Another bang.

Allison was no longer in Thomas’ grip, as he slammed back into the wall, shattering something.

She looked at her hands.

With her, at the same time, Susie looked at hers.

There were only two hands.

The amalgamated being shrieked, stumbling back over a chair, slumping into in a faint.

Johan stared.

“Heh… haha… hehehehehesssssssskkk….”

What the hell was that?

“Ha! Hahaha! Heh, hehehe-HK!”

Johan slapped a hand to his mouth.

He shook with silenced laughter.

Thomas peeled himself off the ground. A shattered halo hovered above his head, holes cut into his hands, nubs of horns on his head. A fallen angel.

He charged at Johan with a cry of anger.

Johan no longer was where he stood, standing by the fuse.

Thomas whipped around to face him, dashing toward him, Johan vanishing one moment before impact, Thomas’ eyes widening as he realized the grave mistake he had made, skidding in an attempt to stop himself from slamming down the steps. He crashed into the door at the bottom.

Johan gripped the rail to the projection booth, panting heavily, breathing harder when he realized he did not feel the air entering his system, in fact, he choked on it, doubling over and coughing on the air.

He choked on a foreign object around his neck, dragging him back and up the stairs.

He was pushed down to the floor of the projection booth, Jack’s angered visage entering his vision, and Johan blearily realized the man was using his hat to force the air out of him. One of his hands moved to pin Johan’s wrists above his head, the other going and gripping his hair as the younger man thrashed to escape.

“Enough, Mr. Drew.” Norman’s voice thudded against his head, his large hands landing firmly on his throat. “We’re putting you down.”

If Johan had access to his windpipe, he would have laughed.

Putting down.

Like an animal.

Johan kicked and writhed to get out of the two enraged older mens’ grasps, but he could not, their combined strength out weighing his futile and weakened physical state. When was the last time he ate something? Air. Focus on air. Blackness swirled over his vision, pulsing and inky.

More glowing numbers.

He resisted the urge to use them, fearing the result, knowing only more pain and anger will follow the action.

Do not. Give in.

Can not give in.

Need air.

No no no.

Do not….

Please, no….

A rending sound filled the air as his hands moved of their own accord, moving the object on his right and swapping it with the one outlined in red before him.

He gasped in air, the pressure gone.

“Oh my god! Norman!”

Johan coughed and looked up, his blood freezing in his veins.

The projectionist’s head was now the very thing he dedicated his life to, his body slumping onto Johan’s, blood spurting where the projector met his neck. Joey scrambled back onto Jack, knowing full well he was moving out of danger back into it, but he needed to get away from the corpse. A dripping caught their attention, blood slowly seeping down the wall of the booth. Johan and Jack slowly both turned to look up.

Norman’s head, with wide, empty eyes, a clenched jaw, and look of shock, sat where the projector had been. His blood drained from his decapitated head, ever so slowly.

Jack stared for a moment before letting out an uncharacteristic wordless scream, having lost his two closest friends, one to insanity and the other to whatever madness this was, grabbing Johan by his collar, lifting him and slamming him down over the rail to the orchestra below. Johan let out a strangled sob, his hands scrambling against Jack’s chest in an attempt to stop him. Johan found no opening for mercy, and so, he pulled them both over the banister, the momentum pushing them apart. Johan landed on the piano, Jack on the floor. Without thinking, the taller man stumbled up and away, Jack getting up with a shout of anger. A shadow appeared over his head. Everyone in the room looked up.

And watched the piano fall.

The sound it made almost was funny, the keys all hitting at once with a dull thud, and the sound of multiple bones being snapped and crushed discordant beneath the tones.

All the musicians in the room at once turned to face the giggling Johan.

Why was he giggling, he had not even used the drug that kept him numb, this should not be funny, nothing in this situation was funny!

All of them charged, knowing this, this thing needed to be removed as quickly and in any manner possible.

Johan felt… lost, alone, cold, comfortless, searching for something.

Thus the first wave of searchers were borne of ink and pain.

He ran out of the orchestra room, feeling nauseated and sickening.

Thomas and Sammy were arguing, the once blonde director now with ink black, dripping hair. Wally stood between his two lovers, trying to appease them, but the man turned angel was hearing none of it.

Johan watched as the wrench came crashing down on the young janitor’s arm.

He slipped away, covering his ears and trying to blot out the cries of pain and torturous emotion ripping throughout the three.

Poor Wally.

He always was a good boy.

The lost ones began appearing as he sprinted away from the music department, the other floors becoming unstable and corrupted, ink leaking from walls as he passed, walls and floors ruined.

A hand shot out from a doorway, stopping him by his mouth, dragging him into the toy department. A pale Irish face looked at him with disdain, Shawn’s entire department behind him.

“Fuck ‘im up!” Shawn roared, and Johan lost count of how many times he had been kicked, struck, smacked, slammed, punched, hit, and otherwise beaten. He was shocked none of his bones had broken. He was on the floor, his arm twisted murderously behind him, leaving him gasping and shaking.  A hissing Irish voice filled is ears. “Say it.”

“Say what?” he wheezed. His head was smacked to the floor.

“Say yer sorry, ye arse!”

“I’m sorry! I am! I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what is happening, I, I… I’m sorry….”

The man shook with sobs, every motion bringing more pain.

“I don’t believe ye.”

“Please, Shawn, I swear, I don’t know how to control this!”

“‘Nuff o’ it.” Shawn barked, making Johan cry out as he pushed his arm up higher.

Bang.

There no longer was a pressure on Johan’s back, and he scrambled away, crashing into a shelf, Bendy plushies collapsing over him. He shrieked and clammored away, so sick of smiles.

An entire room of lost ones, searchers, and bloated ones looked at and regarded him solemnly.

He backed out, running, and running, until his useless, lame, pathetic, weak legs sent him sprawling down to the ground.

He curled up and cried.

He wanted to cry, at least.

He wanted to feel something, anything.

Nothing.

He stared at his hands numbly.

He knew where he could find alcohol. Shawn had alcohol. But there was no way in hell that he would go back into that room.

Grant also always had some form of it in his desk.

Joey pushed himself up, slowly stumbling down more, shaky steps going down, down, down….

He paused by the accountant’s door, knocking in case he was within.

The bottle greeted him, smashing over his head.

Wrong shoes wrong shoes no no no no no no he was not gay please do not smash the bottle over his head again, please no, you were supposed to be a good person not a beast, stop st-

The insanity transferred to Grant.

Joey slammed shut the door as cackles and howls and garbled words slipped out.

“What… what would HE SAY?! WHAT WOULD HE SAY?!”

Joey vomited again.

His own words echoed back to him for the third time that day.

He crawled to the lift.

Lacie greeted him on the lower floors, she and all the workers of Bendy Land.

This time, Johan was not just surprised none of his bones were broken, he was shocked.

The pain was unbearable, he felt his limbs beaten and torn at, he felt his clothes rip and he felt his muscles burn, he felt pain and pain and pain and pain.

Lacie grabbed him by his hair, raising an arm to punch him.

“Wait,” he croaked. “Please….”

“No,” she growled, hir fist flying to his face, and energy burst from him moments before the hit landed, and the blast rattled everything, from the games to the rides. “What the fu-”

Lost ones surrounded him once more, and there was a hollow thud as Lacie’s body landed on the animatronic she had been working on, Bertrum and hir together.

Bertrum was the only being still standing, walking delicately through the crowd of inky monster turned beings.

Bertrum stared at him, shock and terror in his eyes, replaced with sadness and sorrow.

He extended a hand to the man he saw as his nephew.

Johan stumbled onto him, shaking and sobbing onto his shoulder.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Bertrum asked him. Johan shook his head. Bertrum sighed, taking him to another room. The filled spider ride loomed over them. “Johan… go to your machine, upstairs, and undo all this mess.”

He stared at him. No one should know abo-

“Yes, the computer, dammit!” Bertrum rubbed his forehead. “I know it must be hard, but you’ve flown too close to the sun, and it’s time to reset your wings and try again.”

“You don’t know what I’m going through!” Johan yelled, tears pouring down his face. “I killed everyone! I killed Jack and Johnny and Shawn and Norman, I made Grant and Sammy go insane, I don’t even know what I did to Susie and Allison, Wally is dying and Thomas is a toon, and I don’t know what to do, I miss Henry and I’m crazy! I killed Lacie, Bertrum, your fucking spouse, I fucking killed hir, don’t you understand, I don’t know what to do!”

“Calm dow-”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to calm down! You should!”

Both of them were suddenly by the open top of the spider ride. Bertrum’s terrified eyes met his as he plummeted down with a splash. Johan screamed, his arm reaching down and into the inky and oiled abyss.

He struggled, Bertrum’s arm grasping his.

The ink splashed onto Johan’s bloodstained clothing, both men struggling against the slippery substance. Bertrum was the closest thing to family had since Aramis had been killed, he had grounded and stabilized him, and now he was literally slipping out between his fingers. Johan could not let more pain in. He was alone and afraid, and could not be more alone than he was, he needed some support, and he loved Bertrum. Bertrum was good and kind and protective of him. And he was his Uncle Bertie.

He had to save him, together they could fix this, Bertrum could help him fix his mess.

“Hang on,” he gasped, pulling on the older man, both striving to get him out of the ink and oil. “I’ll get you out of there!”

The world flicked again, Johan no longer feeling solid.

Bertrum slipped out of his hands.

The last thing Johan saw was his face, choking on the ink, drowning in the oil.

The green glow of the computer kept him up that night, as he re wrote everything.

And again. And again. No pattern seemed to work. Nothing he did was good.

Failure. No wonder Henry left.

Disgusting freak.

Johan stared at the numbers, and merely rewrote one line of code.

Save.

He scribbled a note.

He went downstairs, ignoring the glowing pained eyes of the lost ones.

He limped into the organ room.

Johnny’s body was gone, his entire code replaced within the organ’s.

Johan sat and played a note.

A moan of pain welled from the instrument.

“We come full circle, don’t we,” Johan hollowly laughed, enunciating each word with a note. Another groan. “Johnny… I hate this. I don’t hate you, how could I, with what I had done to you? But you… you! You wanted to me to make you moan in pleasure, but what about the pain I would go through?! Why not moan in pain, like I have!? Nightmares and terror are all you gave me! I closed my eyes and saw you in my horrors, I could not sleep, I could not eat, I cannot and will not forgive you! I will not apologize! I can’t! I can’t! You stripped from me the last shred of humanity I had, and now you, you, take the lack of humanity on yourself! I… I hope… that you can forgive me. I’m not apologizing. But I hope you can.”

Johan returned upstairs to his computer.

He picked up the note, and hesitated, but searched for the file.

His heart pounded.

Undo everything, Bertrum?

No, he will one up that.

Delete himself.

The file finished loading.

He swallowed saliva he no longer needed, and pressed delete, and felt everything change.

He felt ones and zeros ebb off of him in waves, he felt his form break, he heard the whispers and the taunts louder than ever, he saw more shadowy shapes than before, and he felt…

Error.

Pain shot through his system and he scrambled through the code.

Where did it go wrong!?

All he wanted to do was sleep forever.

Error, duplicate code, unable to delete Joey Drew.

But… he did not try to… there was no….

There was no Joey Drew.

He deleted Joey Drew.

Error, corrupted coding, cannot make changes.

What is happening?

He searched for Joey Drew.

All his coding, at first. Then branching off. Strains of Johan’s coding appeared everywhere in all sorts of small interactions, anchoring him.

Joey Drew was not Johan Ramirez anymore.

But some parts of him, the glimmers of humanity, were, and so, since Johan was deleted, the coding refused to allow him to edit the world, but since some parts of him existed in the man the only existed from his fears, he remained.

Everything reset, going black, and Johan was alone, afraid, and nonexistent.

Joey Drew woke up in an upscale apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

Johan Ramirez hated him, the deepest kind of self-loathing.

[greetingfromthedead]

Loki - Even in Death

Reader gender: Neutral

Summary: Thor wasn’t the only one to survive after Thanos’ attack on the ship and now you have just one mission in mind.

Author’s note: Hello! Maybe someone still remembers me… I’m the shitty Marvel writer. It’s been quite a while since I last wrote something. This is somewhat all over the place and is a bit longer than my usual stuff, but it’s just something that got stuck in my head. Plus I just really didn’t want to study for my exams :D

Author’s note 2 (rant): So apparently something has changed in the way Tumblr decides to show tags in searches. I can’t add any pictures to this text (I loved using special dividers + I always added a relevant picture), I also can’t link to anything (like my masterlist or tagging information). Basically Tumblr is just making it harder for me to like it anymore as it just limits my creativity.

***

You still hear the alarm ringing throughout the spaceship as you guide the Asgardians to the escape pod. Women and children are running for their life to get off this ship as something much bigger and very hostile looms over all of you.

The escape pod is filled to the prim, but half of the people are still on the main ship. You look with panic and worry, at the people who won’t fit into the pod and decide to do your best to protect them. You go up to Valkyrie and take her hand.

“Get these people as far away from here as possible, keep them safe.” you say and also look at Korg behind her. “Stay with them, they have to live.”

“Come with us. There aren’t many warriors amongst us, help us keep them safe.” Valkyrie demands, but you just shake your head.

“I have to try and fight here so maybe we get to live another day, these people here don’t deserve to die. Now stop wasting time and go.” your voice ice cold as you let go of her hand and push the release button next to the pod. It closes its doors and prepares to release from the main ship. With a heavy heart you watch them go knowing very well that everyone remaining on this ship is very likely going to die, including you… and Loki.

You draw your black bladed sword and make your way through the crowd who has fallen completely silent. You can hear fighting in the main hall behind the metal doors. You raise your weapon and are ready to strike. Just a moment later the doors open and a strange pale face greets you with the slightest hint of a smile.

“There you are,” the smooth voice says.

You sarge in with full force, but the figure just waves with his hand and metal wires from the ceiling bend and quickly wrap you up even covering your mouth. Your sword falls to the ground as you are pulled against a wall with no hope of escaping.

One by one the figure starts killing the people you swore to protect. You couldn’t watch this blood bath and nobody could hear your muffled screams over the panicked and afraid shouting. You close your eyes, but the noise alone is enough to make you want to vomit.

When the deed is done the figure walk out the door leaving you alone alive. You can hear voices talking somewhere in the distance, but the shouts of the wounded and the afraid are gone, meaning that they are all dead. Your face is wet with tears of grief. You don’t try to listen for the voices, you know everyone’s fate is already sealed.

Suddenly and without warning the wires holding you back loosen and you fall to the ground. You pick up your sword and run out the doors. You see glowing purple cracks appear all around you. Purple flames engulf your surroundings as you make it to the main hall. The last thing you can see before the ship blows to pieces is Thor crying over the body of his brother.

***

The sun shines brightly over the green fields, the river can barely be heard over the sound of blades clashing together.

“You have all your little tricks, but I’m still better than you,” you tease.

“You seem so sure about that,” the says as he pulls out two knives out of thin air and charges at you again, but you deflect his attack and even smack him lightly in the face with your free hand. Suddenly you are surrounded by an army of Lokis and you look around trying to find the real one.

“Your projections can’t hurt me, I just have to stab every single one of them until I find the real you,” you smile.

“Yes, but in the mean time I can sneak up on you,” his voice whispers in your ear as he wraps his arms around you.  You let your sword fall to the ground and you turn around. He places his hands on your neck and kisses you. His lips leave a burning trace down your neck.

Suddenly you knock him over, he loses his balance and falls.

“You fight dirty,” he says with a hint of admiration.

“You already knew that,” you smile.

You push him on his back before sitting on him and kissing him, stroking your fingers through his hair.

***

You wake up on a lumpy bed, your body hurts as you sit up. You look at your damaged armour and everything is covered in ash and blood. You look around and see that you are on a spaceship. Everything starts to flood back to you, the image of your dead love burned into your eyelids.

You get up and limp to the door of the little windowless room. To your surprise it is open and you walk down the hall till you get to a big room. There is no furniture there, but on the floor there are uneven lumps covered with fabric and you realise these must be the fallen Asgardians. You look at the rows of bodies and are reminded of your grief. You can’t bare to look anymore so you turn around and head for the exit, but suddenly there’s a loud whistle. You see a Yaka Arrow hovering in front of your face.

“Who are you?” a voice asks.

“Y/n, an Asgardian warrior,” you say.

“What happened to your people?”

“They were murdered.”

“By who?”

“Thanos,” you almost growl that name.

You turn around and see a scruffy looking man.

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Kraglin,” the man answers.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For giving the dead some decency and for saving me.”

“Well, you did almost join them and I couldn’t just leave them there. I just wish I were closer when I received the distress call.”

He whistles again and the arrow flies to him.

“You’ve already done so much for me, but I have to ask a little more. Do you have an escape pod I could borrow? I will repay you.”

***

“Oh, did I offend you, my prince?” you ask in a serious manner.

“Yes, very much, my dear.” His expression looks stern, but you can see through it, you see the actual joking kindness he has towards you.

“Then I’m very sorry, your highness,” you bow and laugh.

Loki takes your hands and with a smile he pulls you closer. He places his right hand on your waste. His fingers play with yours for a moment before intertwining. Loki leads as the two of you slow dance to a melody sounding from far in the distance.

“I wish it could stay like this forever,” you sigh, “Where our biggest trouble is me stealing the last pastry from under your nose.”

“Why do you think it can’t stay like this?” Loki asks as he looks at your expression.

“Because I can feel a war coming.”

***

You wake up  in the small spacecraft you had stolen after getting denied by the Xandarian. Looking around in the small space you can tell that this was stolen before you got your hands on it.

Your body still aches from your injuries, but there’s no time to lose. You had already set your course and you can see that you are getting close. In just a couple more hours you find the gateway to the Lost Lands and land at the Sinner’s Market. You get out of your spacecraft and venture through the crowded streets. All kinds of creatures are here to sell you their sinister goods, but you had only one goal so you find the little storefront and walk in. You are greeted by all kinds of potions and magical trinkets. The blue skinned storekeeper smiles a toothless grin as he sees you.

“Do you have what we discussed?” you ask in his native tongue.

He takes two small vials from under the table and hands them to you.

“And this will work?” You demand as you look at the little potions.

“Most likely.”

“You are in luck today as “most likely” will have to do,” you say as you place a bag of money on the counter before leaving.

***

You lay in his arms. Loki’s hands holding yours. He moves his head closer till his lips are by your ear.

“I still think we should leave. I still think you should marry me.” he whispers.

You feel your heat ache. This is the second time he has brought this up after the big proposal.

“You know I can’t. You know why,” you say with sadness.

“Because you are part of the Asgardian elite force? There’s a simple solution - leave with me. You are my only light in this life. You hate this hell as much as I do. Let’s just leave, we could concur all of the nine realms and the rest of the multiverse and call it ours if we wanted to.”

“I hate the throne, I hate the politics, but I gave an oath to protect the people. They have done nothing to harm me and if protecting them means I cannot wed, so be it. A big ceremony doesn’t affect my love for you. Does it for you?” you turn your head to look at him.

“No, it doesn’t. I will love you the same. No matter what happens.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek.

***

You let your ship just drift in the fast emptiness of space as you sit on your chair and look at the vial in your hand. You take the cap off before putting it on your lips and drinking the sweet liquid. You feel the poison taking it’s toll on your body. You feel everything in you struggle, but the potion stretches out to every nook and cranny inside you and everything fades to black as it shuts you down.

You find yourself in a field. The long grass swaying in the wind. The sky of Valhalla painted with gold and rose colours. You are alone if it wasn’t for one other person. You take a step closer.

“My love?” you call out to the figure and Loki turns around.

“No, you can’t be here,” he comes closer, “Not so soon, you can’t be dead too.”

You approach him and stretch out your arms to hug him, but there’s a wall between the two of you.

“It’s not your time yet, it cannot be,” he says.

“Don’t worry, it is not. I just had to be sure you’re here,” you smile as you look into his brilliant eyes.

You feel a force pulling you away again, pulling you away from the wall, from your love.

“I will see you again, I promise,” you say before finding yourself back in your spacecraft.

The poison had brought you close enough to death to visit the land of the fallen, but now it retreats again until it is nothing more than just an empty feeling in your stomach.

***

You walk behind your spacecraft and open the storage compartment. You drag out the Asgardian. You push him back down when he tries to stand.

“Why? What have I done to you?” the man says not looking up at you.

“You are a murderer, a thief, and a traitor,” you say.

“Odin pardoned me after I acted as a spy for him,” he says, you hear the terror in his voice.

“Odin is dead, Asgard has fallen, half of our people were killed. Rules don’t apply anymore. And you have not earned forgiveness.”

You take the top of of the other potion you had brought with you from the Sinner’s market and force the criminal to drink it.

“Please, no, let me live,” he begged.

But you simply take your dagger and slit his throat. The man’s lifeless body falls to the ground with a thump and as his body turns into golden shimmer, but it changes colour to be green before disappearing. In it’s place a golden shimmering portal appears. and Loki steps through the gateway back into the realm of the living. He seems aghast as he looks at his hands. Then he turns his attention to you, he reaches out to touch you.

“Is this real?” he strokes your cheek.

“I did give you a promise,” you smile as you place your hand on his.

Loki steps closer and embraces you, kissing the top of your head and then pulling away just to kiss your lips.

“But how?” he asks.

“I damned an Asgardian soul to a eternity in Hel,” you say remembering the man you had killed just moments ago.

“I love you more than anything,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Then let’s get married,” you smile.

He still holds you, but suddenly it feels as if your stomach dropped, an uneasiness takes over and gives you just enough time to ask:

“My love…?”

You don’t get to finish asking if he feels it too, if he knows what’s happening. You just turn into dust in his arms and all Loki can do is watch in horror as the wind blows your remains away.

***

Sadly I can’t link to my masterlist here or the post won’t show up in search, but you can find it on blog page.

***

Taglist

@spookycatqueen @jdm-is-dad @kbarnes-2001 @thefallenbibliophilequote @honey-anon @chris-evans-teamcap @justaplainfangirl @obsessed--with

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, sureillthinkofabetteronelater!

September 19 - Wanda Maximoff/Loki, something fluffy maybe with “can i borrow a kiss? I promise i’ll give it back.” for @sureillthinkofabetteronelater

Written by @ozhawkauthor​ 

The one thing Wanda and Loki found themselves immediately in agreement on was that Stephen Strange’s magic was completely weird. The two men apparently didn’t like each other in the slightest, so Wanda found herself an intermediary as the three magic-users tried to thrash out a usable strategy to work together.

Once the panic was over and they had some time to breathe, she decided she should try to understand Loki’s magic a little better. Stephen’s attempts to explain what he did just made her head hurt, but at least Loki, for all his arrogance, didn’t condescend to her, which she’d half expected. Instead, he invited her to take a seat in his workroom and sat down opposite her, boot heel hooked in the rung of the stool in a disturbingly sexy way. He’d taken to Earth clothing far too well and looked far too gorgeous in slim-fitting black pants and a long-sleeved, dark green silk shirt for Wanda to concentrate properly. Biting the inside of her cheek, she sternly ordered herself to look at his face.

“Magic is sourced from within,” Loki was saying, and she nodded in agreement. Stephen’s ‘manipulation of the energies of the universe’ gave both of them the heebie-jeebies. “But,” Loki continued, “it is possible to use external tools to focus, direct and store that magic.”

That was where he lost her.

“I don’t get it,” Wanda admitted. “Do you mean like that sceptre thingy, or Thor’s hammer? Or the Infinity Stones?”

“A tool such as the scepter or Mjolnir is a way to focus and direct, yes. The Stones are… well, they are clearly a great repository and store of magic, but they are also something more which none of us understand. Perhaps we are not meant to. I was thinking of more simple things such as potions, wands, crystals and such.” Loki gave her a knowing look. “The power we can bring from within ourselves at any one time is finite, as I know you have discovered. Would it not be of benefit for you to have a store of backup power which you might access in case of emergency, a store you filled at an earlier time, without the urgency of immediate battle?”

“Definitely,” she had to agree. “Can you teach me how to make them?”

“Indeed. If you have time to stay and watch now, I was planning today to make some potions of energy storage, which can be drunk in time of necessity to give oneself greater stamina and endurance.”

“Magical Red Bull?” Wanda asked, making Loki laugh.

“Indeed, but it tastes rather better.”

His laugh was genuine, she thought, as was the warm smile he gave her afterwards before turning to his workbench and beginning to prepare some supplies. Fresh rainwater gathered in a vessel made of pure silver, a squeezed lime and some organic honey formed the base of the potion, and she watched as Loki cupped his hands together and focussed, filling them up with green magic before ‘pouring’ it into the potion. The liquid turned faintly crystalline as she watched.

Loki carefully decanted what he had made into several small silver vials he had prepared, pausing before capping them. “One more thing, to seal the magic,” he said.

“What’s that?” Wanda asked, utterly fascinated by the process.

“The kiss of a beautiful maiden.” Loki smiled at her, a slow curl of his lips. “Can I borrow a kiss, my lady? I promise I’ll give it back.”

Startled and nervous, she licked her lips before nodding. Loki leaned down towards her, and she found her lashes drifting down as his lips neared hers. She could feel his breath on her mouth, warm and sweet-smelling, before their lips met. 

She hadn’t expected the kiss to linger quite so long, Loki urging her lips to part with a delicate flick of his tongue, drawing in her soft gasp before lifting his head. There was a flicker of something in his eyes - triumph, perhaps? - before he turned and made a little production of blowing his breath out over the silver vials and capping them.

Struck by a sudden suspicion, Wanda narrowed her eyes. “That was complete bullshit, wasn’t it?” she said. “That part about the kiss. You didn’t need that for the spell at all.”

Loki’s guilty expression was surprisingly adorable. She laughed before reaching out and grabbing a double fistful of his shirt.

“You promised to give it back.”

“So I did.” He smiled before his arms folded around her and he bent his head to kiss her again.

[ko-fanatic]

Genetic Emancipation (part two)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club, Repo! the Genetic Opera AU

Relationships: Kyoya x Kaoru,

Trigger Warnings: Illness, gore, blood, drugs, plastic surgery addiction.

Summary: He wasn't mad. Well, he was, but it wasn't Kyoya's fault. Not really. Okay, it was kind of Kyoya's fault... Love hurts, huh. Oh well, there's always Zydrate and money to be made.

Parts in this series: Part one

The streetlights around the cemetery never worked, and no one ever came to fix them. The sketchy side streets seemed so much more dangerous when they were so poorly lit, but it was the safest way to get to the cemetery across town, which was one of the best places to get their Zydrate. After all, what was the danger of Yoshio Ootori when poverty and starvation were more painful, drawn-out deaths. Besides, if Kyoya could help take his father's attention away, then he would; it's something you do for someone you love...

Or something you love, he thought bitterly, despite the fact he knew Kyoya wasn't like that. Kyoya was an addict, yes, but he wasn't when they met and they fell in love before he was plastic perfect. Perhaps it was partly out of guilt, also; he was the one to give Kyoya his first taste of the blue vial. He'd just hated to see the boy lying there, face bandaged and almost crying out in pain because of how much it hurt.

It just started a downward spiral. More surgeries, more Zydrate, and he watched as Kyoya's soft face turned to defined cheekbones, the slight bump of his nose being restructured into something smaller, apparently "cuter". If you looked at Kyoya's old photos, you wouldn't recognise him, but... that was the point, however much Kaoru hated it. Now, his eyes were going to change, too.

He was something close to angry when he thought about all of the things Kyoya wanted to replace. His heart was damaged for years, an operation every few weeks as valves decayed and holes appeared. However, that designer heart still beat with common blood, so why the hell did everyone want him to show it off?

Maybe Hikaru had a point when he said Kyoya looked like daddy's little hooker?

He shook the thought away, berating himself for being such a crappy boyfriend in that moment. Kyoya said it himself; in his position, it paid to look a certain way. His outfits were fashionable, they showed off his thin frame and porcelain skin, they drew attention to him. He was only the fourth child, and that made his boyfriend something of an attention seeker, but it wasn't bad. Kaoru liked seeing him in those outfits...

He squeezed through the bars of the cemetery easily, buttoning his black coat up further. His breath fogged in the cold, late night air, and he mused that he might be able to see the outline of a star or two beyond the red glow of light pollution. A nice night, and he was thankful it was dry, even if it was freezing; that was what layers were for.

He strolled around, trying to pick where to dig first. He had to be careful of guards, of course; the PA system announcing "Grave robbers will be shot on sight" as a stark reminder. It was the only warning you got if you were dumb enough or, like he and his brother, desperate enough to do this shit.

Of course, Kyoya had offered him a way out, but... Well, daddy dearest certainly wouldn't approve, and Kaoru wasn't writhing in agonising guilt over this. People threw away perfectly good organs and Zydrate, almost like the world wasn't still in crisis. Hell, in a world where Yoshio fucking Ootori couldn't give their child a full, new heart for years because of the shortage, then what hope did poor schmucks like him and his brother have?

"I'll be quick..."

Kaoru jumped when he heard muttering coming from inside one of the crypts, because that would just about cap the disaster of a dying world they lived in; zombies. Still, he was curious; and you know what they say about that, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.

"I'll just... catch it, and run back inside..." The voice continued. It was soft, almost sweet. There was something melodic in there, behind a slight raspy edge. Whoever it was sounded young, too.

He ducked behind a gravestone, but still began to dig so he could at least say he was being productive, watching as the door slowly creaked open. There was a warm glow from inside, so the voice obviously had some kind of light; but why would anyone hole themselves up in a place like that?

A tall, skinny boy with blond hair crept out of the stone building, the slightest sheen of sweat on his face and his lip clenched hard between his teeth. Yeah, it really was nothing to be afraid of. The kid had a tremor running through his shoulders, and was obviously more scared of everything than Kaoru would ever be of someone that scrawny and sickly-looking.

He couldn't make out the title of the book the kid hugged close to his chest, but it was thick. Some sort of encyclopaedia, perhaps? He wasn't sure, but for now he just kept an eye on the blond as he went about his work.

The kid suddenly pounced, however, the jar in the other hand making clinking noises as the glass clashed against the stone of the grave marker, trapping some kind of bug. So that was what he was after. Kind of a gross hobby, if you ask him, but he was literally digging up a corpse, so he couldn't really judge. Each to their own, and all that.

Kaoru fucked up. It wasn't long before he realised that he was digging right into a trap - literally - but he couldn't do anything about it as the alarms went off and he heard the marching of heavy boots in the too-near distance. Shit. Seems like even Kyoya couldn't help him; but to be fair to his boyfriend, he had warned Kaoru about the traps being placed around to prevent grave robbing... He should have been more careful.

The kid ran straight back to the door he came out of, only for it to close in his face. He pounded on the wood, howled to be let in like some kind of dog, citing over and over again that he - apparently - "couldn't be outside". Did he get grounded or something? Whatever, if they didn't hide fast, then they'd both be pumped full of bullet holes by Ootori-san's delightful guards.

"Hey, dude," He called, though he kept his voice down, trying to be subtle, "Follow me."

Not that he knew where he was going either, but hey. Better than sticking around. He seemed to take the hint too, as he followed without hesitation. Kaoru's feet hit the ground so hard that he swore he could feel shocks of dull ache winding up his legs from the soles of his feet, despite his heavy boots. He ran as fast as he could, but kept visual on the blond. The kid obviously wasn't that fit - panting and huffing as he sprinted along - but adrenaline seemed to be doing its thing.

He scanned the area, trying to look for a way out - he'd take anything at this point. Still, it would be hard going; Yoshio's security meant that everything was shut tighter than the man's asshole. He tried to brush away the thought that these were likely his last moments, trying to focus on actual survival rather than overthinking.

It seemed some deity was listening to his prayers, however, when he spotted a door in the wall. It seemed like it was mostly meant to be concealed, but there was the barest outline there - you wouldn't see it unless you were looking for it, which he was.

He rammed his shoulder into the door, letting out a small grunt of combined pain and effort before trying again. And again. And again.

"Are you just going to fucking stand there kid, or are you going to help?" He snapped at the boy, wide eyes staring out from behind his mussed fringe. Now Kaoru was closer... was that a wig?

"I... I don't think I can..." The boy began, almost a whisper, but he was soon interrupted by a loud crack from the door. Better late than never, Kaoru guessed, but he still gave the kid a half-hearted glare for just standing there.

The smell was rancid, but the sight that greeted him... Well, it was like walking into a mine to find the walls encrusted with diamonds. Bodies piled high, almost floor to ceiling. Gutted, naked, laying there in this little stash, waiting to be found. He couldn't help the smirk that quirked his lips when he thought of all the Zydrate he could get from here. It went without saying, all the money that would make.

"Jackpot," He breathed, almost disbelieving, while the kid only let out a choked noise of shock. Well, this wasn't everyone's cup of tea; or, more aptly, bread and butter. Everyone had to make a living somehow, and apparently Hikaru and he had been missing out on a veritable goldmine.

"This... This can't be real..." The kid muttered, sounding absolutely horrified; as if he'd been living under a rock for years and had no idea what the state of the world was, "This can't actually be happening... Right?"

As Kaoru opened his mouth to reply that, yes, this was very real, the guards finally crashed their little party by physically grabbing the poor kid and dragging him out by the armpits, kicking and screaming. The shitty thing was, Kaoru hadn't had any opportunity to get some Zydrate. Still, his life was more important than drugs. He just had to remember where this spot was so he could hit it next time.

He was fucked now, though. No way out. This was it, and Hikaru and Kyoya would be left alone, which wasn’t fair on either of them. Son of a bitch… If Kyoya weren’t getting his corneas sliced, then he could call off the dogs, but that wasn’t an option.

It got very quiet, all except for a digital voice stating “medicate immediately”. No sounds from the guards, no sounds from the kid. It was like they’d all dropped dead then and there. More Zydrate for him, he supposed, but it was beyond fucking creepy.

Kaoru poked his head around the busted in door, cautiously trying to survey the scene without drawing attention to himself, only to get the shock of his life. What the fuck was a Repo man doing out here, and what did he want with the kid? The blond was so sickly looking, it wouldn't make sense for him to have everything in working order. Even Kyoya, who liked to look as put together as possible, looked like hell when his heart went into failure after failure, arrest after arrest.

Still, there it was. The tall man carrying the limp boy like a doll, arms hanging limp and head cricked back at what looked like an awkward angle. Still, there was something undoubtedly… tender about the way Repo held the kid…

He wasn’t going to run after them – he wasn’t suicidal – but… maybe he could ask Kyoya to do a little digging. Satisfy that niggling curiosity.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Everything Has a Price

Even during daytime, the foggy graveyard was eerie enough to give Kim goosebumps.

She sat at the edge of the hole she had dug, massaging her hands. Her palms felt like they would develop calluses. Her fingers trembled and came close to cramping up. Hearing Kevin grunt in the grave prompted Kim to look back up.

HERE LIES GEORGE MATTHEW LUCA 1944 — 2016

The simplistic headstone loomed above the grave she had spent the past hours exhuming. She saw the young man’s head bobbing up and down as he shifted around, removing nails from the coffin he stood on at the bottom of the hole. Unlike Kim, who was dressed in simple jeans and a dark gray Windbreaker, Kevin stood out quite a bit more—sporting a studded black leather jacket with crude profanities and some obscure rock band’s logo scrawled onto its back, torn up jeans, combat boots, complete with having his hair dyed neon blue and styled in a messy fauxhawk cut.

He groaned when he rose back up to his feet from where he was crouching. He tossed the hammer up onto the edge of the grave next to where Kim was sitting and wiped his hands off on his pant legs. His boots thumped on the wood of the spartan-looking coffin as he moved to the other end of the hole, where he bent over.

With the sounds of wood creaking, he opened the coffin lid and covered his mouth before he coughed. Kim had expected something else—a skeleton or a rotten corpse being eaten by worms. Nothing like the pale-skinned corpse of George Luca, who had looked like he had been buried here only weeks ago, barely decayed, and almost appearing to be sleeping serenely in a dark blue suit.

Kevin jammed a fist into one of his jacket pockets and fished around in it until he produced some items that looked like a bunch of chicken bones, tufts of hair, and other indiscernible small objects.

Kim stirred and got up, absentmindedly wiping wet dirt off of the seat of her pants as she observed Kevin’s next actions through inquisitive, narrowed eyes.

The strange man bit his lip while he forced the mouth of the dead body open. He then stuffed all of the items into the cavity. Following that, he took a small vial from the same pocket and emptied its dark red, viscous contents into the mouth before screwing the cap back on and putting it away. He forced the body’s mouth shut again.

From his other jacket pocket, Kevin pulled out a small notepad and a black magic marker. He flipped through some of the top pages of the notepad and then tore them off before crumpling them up and cramming them into his pocket.

Kim got nervous and looked around. The fog was so thick that it had swallowed the rest of the world around them. She could not see past a dozen paces away from the grave. Still, she feared that a groundskeeper or undertaker or some other person might catch them defiling a grave here.

She cleared her throat and asked softly, “Why exactly couldn’t we have done this at night?”

Kevin shushed her. His attention was absorbed by the corpse as he uncapped the black magic marker and drew strange occult symbols all over the surface of the dead man’s face. Kim frowned and took another look around after she had heard something from the nearby trees.

Probably just crows.

Kevin stuck the magic marker into the cold blue hand of the dead body. He wrenched Luca’s arm around until it was sticking out of the coffin. Kevin held the notepad against the tip of the marker, as if setting things up so the corpse could write onto the paper.

“Bitranobithamen,” Kevin whispered to the corpse. The alien-sounding word sent a shiver down Kim’s spine, and her breath condensed in front of her face as she exhaled.

“We need to find Bobby,” Kevin said.

Nothing happened.

“Your son has done some very bad things, Mister Luca, and we need to settle things,” he added.

Still nothing.

Squatting over Luca’s corpse, Kevin patiently waited another few seconds and then asked, “Can you tell us where he is?”

Kim winced when she saw George Luca’s hand twitch. Just enough to creep her out, but not enough to make her believe that this weird crap was working. Then the dead man’s arm twitched again. And then once more. Kevin leaned forward to peer at what was scrawled on the notepad. Although she refused to believe that this was working, morbid curiosity guided Kim to walk a few steps along the edge of the grave till she could read a scrawl on the face of the notepad.

YES

A wide grin spread across Kevin’s face and he glanced up at Kim, waggling his eyebrows at her. Looking back down down at George Luca, his next question was, “Is he hiding out at your log cabin?”

The pause was so long that it gave Kim time to wonder if Kevin was something like a stage magician, apt at playing out this little act and fooling her into believing this trick and scamming her out of her money. But then, Luca’s arm twitched again and set into a short burst of motion, scrawling more onto the notepad. The lines were squiggly and the letters came out crooked and meandering across multiple lines, but it turned out legible to Kim.

YES

“Very good, Mister Luca. I need to know one more thing. Where is your log cabin?”

Without a pause following the question this time, Luca’s hand appeared to jerk around in frantic motions, scribbling a series of words and numbers across the rest of the notepad’s page and then slipping off the edge until the dead man’s arm fell down and thumped against the sideboard of his coffin. Whatever had been written there, it was much smaller than before and Kim could not read it from where she stood.

Kevin flipped the notepad around in his hand so he could look at the scrawled directions written upon it. He nodded in approval after taking a few careful moments to read it.

“Thanks, boo,” Kevin muttered to George’s face while clapping the dead body on the shoulder like an old friend. He pocketed the notepad and looked back up at Kim and said, louder, “Alright Kim, let’s bury this old sack o’ shit again.”

George Luca’s cold, dead hands suddenly shot up and grabbed Kevin by the neck. Kim gasped as she saw the lifeless fingers clutching the young man’s neck and strangling him, accentuated by the sound of a wide-eyed Kevin emitting some tortured gagging noises while he grabbed Luca’s arms and tried to wrestle them off of himself.

Kim ran.

Her heart beat at a rate of a million times per second, the soft earth of this graveyard felt like it was melting under her every footstep as she got farther and farther away from Luca’s gravesite, and the mist made it hard to figure out where she was headed. There, a familiar tree, and here, an unusual headstone with a marble statue she had seen on the way over. She could hear the panic in her own labored breathing, but it sounded so distant that it might as well have been from another world, from a different person.

Getting back into her black sedan and slamming the door shut and locking everything behind her had been a blur. Her knuckles turned white due to how hard she was gripping the steering wheel of her car. Breathing heavily, she suddenly sprung into action again and clawed her keys out of her pocket. She inserted them into the ignition but decided not to drive away. She needed to calm down.

She nearly screamed when Kevin hammered the bottom of his dirty fist against the passenger seat window.

“C'mon, open up,” Kevin said in an annoyed tone that she could pick up on even though the window between them muffled it. When she just stared at him through terrified eyes for what felt like an eternity, Kevin made a long face, wiggled his fingers, and moaned, “They’re coming to get you, Barbara.”

She exhaled sharply and leaned over to unlock the passenger seat door. While Kevin swung the door open and slid into the seat in a fluid motion, Kim stared out into the fog where the young man had appeared from, expecting the undead George Luca to follow him. Kevin reached over and tossed the dirty shovel onto the backseat behind them and shut the door with a speed suggesting that he was exhausted.

He then looked over to lock eyes with Kim but noticed she was still staring out into the thick fog outside.

“Not interested in how I dealt with the walking dead? Kim. Yo,” he said, trying to draw her attention. His rambling had no effect on her. “Shit, you know what? We have to shovel all that fucking dirt back into the grave. Kim? Ah, what the fuck ever.”

He reached around, grabbed the dirty shovel, and got back out of the car. Kim stewed in the horrid imagery of what she had just witnessed, but also steeled her mind for what was to come soon. Before she knew it, another hour had passed.

With all sense for the passage of time gone, Kim’s nerves finally settled down, and she registered that Kevin had returned and was sitting next to her in her passenger seat. He was focused on a smartphone in his hand, tapping its screen while holding up the notepad next to it. He must have noticed her attention from the periphery of his vision, and he just nodded at her with a furtive glance.

Kevin dropped the items in his lap and unzipped his jacket, taking a sleek chrome hip flask from its inside pocket. He held it out in between them, wordlessly offering her a drink.

She shook her head. And realized how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel again. The vice of her grip loosened, and her fingers slid off of the wheel, so she could take a look at her shaking palms one more time.

“I have to drive,” she said.

So she did, followed by a relative silence between the two. Obnoxious little beeping sounds from Kevin’s smartphone grated on her nerves as he played some game on it.

“So what’s the address?”

Kevin offered no answer and then shook his smartphone after some furious tapping on his screen. He swore out loud and placed the phone back down on his lap. He scratched his head and pointed ahead.

“Just keep driving the way you’re already goin’. It’s gonna be a few hours, a few towns over.”

After a minute of awkward silence, he took a swig from his hip flask and returned it into his jacket. He sighed.

She spoke up again to ask, “How much do I owe you?”

Kevin erupted into a high-pitched chuckle. He stretched and reclined in his seat and then sighed again, but it sounded relaxed. He was smiling at her all the while, which she felt and confirmed by shooting him a glance.

“Owe me? Nothin’, Kimberly.”

“No payment? I thought—James said—I mean, what do you get out of this?”

Kevin shook his head and looked ahead again. They both stared at the desolate road, framed by a thick forest of pine trees on both sides, disappearing into the foggy oblivion ahead.

“Bobby has something I want. Besides, you already paid a price.”

She noticed that he was pointing at something. Following that direction, she spotted the blood-soaked bandage on her left wrist that was peeking out of the sleeve of her Windbreaker.

“You’re looking a bit pale, by the by,” Kevin muttered. “Want me to take over the wheel?”

Kim shook her head and gripped the steering wheel tighter once more, though this time it was not panic that drove her, but determination.

Kevin started drumming his fingers rhythmically on his own thighs to some imaginary tune. He asked, “So, he’s been stalking you? Simple restraining order and cops didn’t work, I take it?”

“Yeah. I tried. I really, really tried.”

She swallowed her deep-rooted frustration and switched the radio on. Brainless chatter, lousy advertisements, and mainstream music accompanied them for the next hours of their ride during which no more words were exchanged. Kevin spent most of the time playing around on his phone and occasionally giving her directions to follow as she drove. The directions and their location did not stick in her brain and some part of her did not want to remember.

Gravel crunched underneath the wheels of her car as it rolled down a lonesome unmarked driveway in some God-forsaken woods.

“Kill the lights,” Kevin said. “See, Bobby is not your garden variety of an asshole stalker, he is someone known in the, um—circles—I’m in. Hey, you know what? Just kill the engine, let’s walk the rest of the way from here.”

Kim let the car slowly come to a halt and then switched everything off. She stared blankly at Kevin and felt the mixture of fear and rage that had been welling in her gut for the past year of Bobby terrorizing her—it was now bubbling to the surface and she struggled to contain it. Her voice trembled when she spoke again.

“That piece of shit abducted and killed my dog. He left a dead bird on my patio. Broke into my house and left me roses. Making my life a living nightmare. For a year. A whole year. He threatened to kill my husband,” she said, eventually wiping tears from her eyes before they could blur her vision.

Kevin stared at her and his brow furrowed while his eyes flashed with an uncharacteristically sad glint. He nodded slowly. Their eyes locked for a long pause filled with silence and understanding. Kevin destroyed the moment when he placed his fingers on the handle to open the passenger door.

“Shall we?”

Kim inhaled sharply and leaned forward, reaching down and pulling out a shiny bowie knife from underneath her seat.

“Woah,” Kevin exclaimed as he stared at the blade all wide-eyed. “Now that’s what I call a knife. Though, I brought a gun, if you want it. We’re in ‘Murica, after all,” he said. “Bobby’s probably got a gun. Wait, no, scratch that. He has definitely got a gun.”

“No. Thanks.”

She was out the door with no further remark and closed it quietly. Kevin took a small purple duffel bag from the back seat, which triggered her curiosity again. Everything about this guy was weird, and she fought against a sense of excitement to find out what he had brought in that bag.

They made their way down the narrow gravel-covered road until they could see the outlines of a log cabin in the fog-riddled forest. A mud-encrusted pick-up truck was parked in front of the cabin. The quaint building’s exterior was ramshackle, but a dim light glowed behind boarded-up windows, giving away the presence of someone dwelling inside.

Kevin unzipped the bag, and Kim did a double take when she she saw what he took out of it: a wax-covered, severed hand with candlewicks sticking out from its fingertips. She wanted to believe that it was a fake stage prop, but her stomach churned at the thought that this thing was probably as authentic as his stunt of animating George Luca’s corpse.

Kevin gave her a tired look and whispered to her, “What?”

She tore her eyes off of the object and looked at the front door of the cabin, gripping the knife in her hand with furious determination. She saw from the corner of her eyes how Kevin shook his head and pulled a stainless steel Zippo lighter from his pocket.

After taking a few more steps towards the cabin, they stumbled and rolled onto the ground just after a shotgun blast tore a hole through the door and sent splintered wood fragments flying all over the place. Almost with a delay, the deafening gunshot echoed through the woods and a flock of cawing birds flew away from the site. A ringing remained in Kim’s ears while she pushed herself off the ground.

What was left of the door swung open, miraculously still attached to its hinges, and it slammed against the outside wall as a man stepped through and outside onto the front porch of the cabin, holding a sawed-off shotgun in his hand. He was built and dressed like a lumberjack, wearing thick-rimmed glasses taped together in the center, right above the bridge of his nose. Both his badly-shaven face and the messy hair on his greasy, balding head gave him an unkempt appearance. Even if he had not looked like a textbook crazy child molester and the object of her pent-up rage, Kim’s skin would have crawled at the sight of him.

Bobby.

While cracking open the gun and dumping out two smoking shells, then replacing them with two new ones from his pocket, he growled at them, “Don’t make me do this, Kim! I love you!”

She got up onto one knee and tightly gripped the knife in her right hand, mostly to make sure that it was still there. Kim barely noticed how Kevin was still lying on the ground but had turned his back on Bobby to conceal that he had flicked his lighter open. He held the small flame to the wick of the waxen hand’s thumb.

“Cover your eyes,” were the words that Kim heard Kevin mumble as the gravel underneath him crunched, and he turned around without getting up yet.

She blinked and stared at Bobby instead. Her mind raced, picturing scenarios of getting blown to pieces by a blast from her stalker’s gun as he lifted the loaded weapon and pointed it at her face, and she wondered what good this stupid knife would do her now. Bobby’s brow was furrowed as his eyes darted back and forth in between her and Kevin. Then something clicked inside her head.

She closed her eyes.

“Under no circumstances do you open your eyes again till I tell you to,” Kevin said.

Judging by the sounds of gravel underneath his boots, she could tell that he was getting up and then walking around. Bobby did nothing.

“Follow my voice,” Kevin added.

His steps carried him farther away, but she could tell that he had moved closer to Bobby.

“Right here. Watch your step.”

Kim stood up and wobbled on her feet, having difficulty to keep her balance with her eyes closed. She instinctively held her hand out in front of her as she took careful steps to move forward.

“Here,” Kevin spoke again. “Here’s your chance. You can kill Bobby if you want to. Take your knife, and ram it into his skull while he’s defenseless.”

“But I—”

“He’s not going to stop. Remember what I said? He’s not your garden variety stalker. Not even I want to imagine what kind of fucked up shit he might do if you let him walk away from this.”

Kim remained silent. She heard gravel crunch underneath Kevin’s boot as he shifted his weight.

“I only got a few more minutes left on this hand, so you’re gonna have to make up your mind. Once this spell’s over, everything’s up in the air, and we’ll be dealing with a shotgun-wielding psycho who is capable of much, much worse than the weird shit you’ve seen today.”

She swallowed. And then again. She wanted this all to end, but what if she got caught? What if she went to jail for murder? And who was this Kevin guy, anyway? Then again, Bobby was clearly sub-human trash. What if he continued to do horrible things to someone else after he killed them out here in the middle of nowhere?

“If you don’t wanna do it, well—like I said, I have a gun. Right here in my pocket. I do have a horse in this race.”

Taking another blind step forward, her fingertips felt the rough fabric of Bobby’s jacket. Even with her eyes closed, she could see its red plaid pattern with her mind’s eye. Her trembling hand wandered up along the jacket’s zipper until she felt a neck and then some beard stubble. A few inches higher and calm warm breath started rhythmically hitting her skin.

Kim cupped her hand around the back of his head and plunged the knife into where she thought his chin should be. Although she felt resistance, she wanted to make sure.

She twisted the knife, accompanied by sickening crunching and gurgling sounds. Breathless seconds passed but it took a while till she noticed the warm fluid on her hand as it soaked the sleeve of her sweater underneath her Windbreaker.

She opened her eyes and looked into the blank, soulless eyes of Bobby up close, but the moment she glimpsed Kevin standing next to them, holding up the strange waxen hand with all five of its wicks burning like candles, she blacked out.

When she came to, Bobby had collapsed onto the ground with her knife sticking out from the bottom of his jaw, and blood slowly pumping out of his lifeless body. The waxen hand rested on the steps of the porch next to him with thin plumes of smoke wafting away from the wicks. Kevin must have put them out.

Before she fully registered that Kevin was absent from this picture, he stepped back outside the cabin’s front door. He held something in his hand which made her squint and sent her mind reeling in an attempt to discern what she was looking at. It appeared to be a tourniquet, but so yellowed and old and with rusted metal parts that it reminded Kim of relics from the American Civil War.

“You’re back,” Kevin said. He thrust a thumb over his shoulder to point to the cabin’s entrance. “Let’s get outta here. That dump is a creepshow.”

He stuffed the tourniquet into his pocket and picked up the waxen hand off of the porch steps. Baffled by the series of strange things that this man continued to do and say in front of her, she watched him in stunned silence. Kevin blew smoke from the candlewicks and then wet his fingertips on his tongue before squelching the last heat and smoke from them.

He looked at her again and blinked. He snapped his fingers in front of her face.

“Earth to Kim? You still spacin’ out?”

“No, I'm—I’m,” she stammered as her thoughts trailed off and her eyes transfixed on Bobby’s dead body. “I’m good. I guess.”

Although she felt the wrath in the depths of her soul subsiding, it only made way to a dreary emptiness.

“Might wanna take that,” Kevin said, using the waxen hand in a comically gruesome gesture to point at the knife sticking out of Bobby’s head.

She nodded and frowned and then crouched down next to Bobby. She looked him in the eye and tugged on the knife. More blood gushed out, and she wiped bits and pieces of Bobby off of the blade, using his red jacket as a rag.

“Bastard,” she whispered before standing up.

Kim was so shell-shocked that she had no idea how many minutes or hours went by. The mist had begun clearing out, and the sun had started to set. The fog in her head also went away. The soft hum of her car’s engine gently drew her back into reality.

“I never killed anybody,” Kevin said out of nowhere. “Well, not directly, or intentionally, at least. Must be rough.”

Kim swallowed and explored her heart. It was empty, like there was a huge hollow space there now, and all the blood inside the muscle was just an illusion. She felt like another person altogether. Her entire right hand was stained in blood, and her right sleeve discolored. She did not even bother to look at Kevin when she shrugged.

He shut up for the next minutes of their drive, and she felt glad about it. She worried if she would get caught and tried for murder, but then again, as long as they did not get pulled over now, how would anybody find out? Would the cops ask a corpse where they had buried Bobby’s body?

Right.

She could not find a single rational explanation for some of the things she had experienced this day. The emptiness made way for something else. Something dark. Still without looking at him and keeping her eyes trained on the road, Kim asked Kevin, “Can you teach me the things you know?”

“You mean the weird things, yeah? I could,” he replied. “But everything has a price.”

She did not need to see him to sense that he stared at her while he tapped his lips in deep thought. Something about the words he had just uttered had sounded like a deterrent.

But something about the way he had said those words sounded like he knew she was ready to pay that price.

—Submitted by Wratts

[trbl-will-find-me]

Every Exit, An Entrance (23/?)

There are two (and only two) possibilities: either she led XCOM to victory and they are now engaged in a clean up operation of alien forces, or XCOM was overrun, clearing the way for an alien-controlled puppet government to seize control of the planet.

She’d really like to figure out which it is, but asking hardly seems the prudent option.

She wakes with a start and reaches for John. The space next to her is empty and she panics for a moment before remembering his late shift.

He’s fine. He’s just in Mission Control. You’re worried about nothing.

She rubs at her eyes, chasing the memory of purple skin and sunken eyes from her mind. It had felt real, yes, but didn’t every nightmare?

They have never encountered anything that matches the description etched in her memory. While the Ethereals had certainly been fearsome, they had been easy enough to shoot. They did not seem to flicker in and out of existence, a ghost on the wind.

She rolls over, and buries her face in his pillow, breathing him in. Her men are safely accounted for in the base; there is no reason for the sick pit in her stomach.

Except that’s not quite true.

The memory of the vial fills her with a rolling nausea, a reminder of her failure to anticipate the threat in advance. She doesn’t even want to contemplate how many across the globe now carry the time bomb, how many of her own people are at risk.

She reaches for her datapad, and rolls over, holding her thumb over the device’s scanner. She hates mandating intrusive tests.

All XCOM operatives having served in areas with active Fog Pod deployment are to report to medical for mandatory blood draw within the next forty-eight hours, she writes.

She fights the urge to tag on an apology. Nearly a year as the head of XCOM and the idea still creeps up on her.

“Not how it’s done,” John once told her. “You’re in charge. You make the calls, and we live with them.”

“Feels rude.”

“You can’t apologize for orders you give on the field. Can’t apologize for orders off of it, either. We all know that. We signed up for it. It’s a command.”

He was right. Of course, he was right. You’re the Commander, she’d told herself as she’d mandated psionics testing. You’re the Commander, she’d told herself as she’d sent Martin into the field, still horrified by the power at the tips of his fingers.

You’re the Commander, she’d told herself as the Muton crashed through Mission Control.

You’re the Commander, and it’s your fault.

She sets the datapad aside, and digs her hands into her eyes. It’s fine, she tells herself. Shen and Vahlen will figure out how to deactivate the pods. They’ll find countermeasures. It’s what they do. You caught it in time. No harm, no foul. There’s a solution, and they’ll find it.

She doesn’t believe a word of it.

Instead, she rolls over, and pulls the blanket tighter around her. She has a nagging sense that something is off, that something bad is coming; she’d chalk it up to the events of the past year, or the vials, but something in her gut says it is something else entirely.

She tries to focus on what she knows. There has been no extraterrestrial activity in the air or on the ground since Avenger. The Fog Pods release a gas containing a mutagenic agent somehow tied to the energy spikes the same structures are also emitting. The information they have begun to leak to the press is taking root; John’s contacts are reporting more and more activity around sensitive subjects. Steph and Edouard’s wedding is rapidly approaching. She loves John, and he loves her.

She just has to focus on what’s in front of her, and it will be fine.

--

She’d really thought they might make it. Central hadn’t lost his talent for brinksmanship, and there was a glimmer of the man she once knew twinkling in his eye.

She sits on the edge of the bed, head in her hands. She should be reviewing footage, pinning down where it went wrong, where she’d fucked up. Instead, she is trying not to vomit.

Someone knocks at her door.

“In,” she calls, not bothering to move.

“Are you okay?” Central asks.

“I got Gunda killed and Mox captured. You sure I’m still the person you want running this show?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

“I’m not. Maybe I never should have been.”

“We wouldn’t have made it as far as we did without you. And we sure as hell won’t be making it much farther if you give up.”

She meets his gaze. “What if I’m not who I was? I keep thinking about it, and I can’t find a way things could have gone differently. She was down. We all saw her go down.” She shakes her head. “But there she was. And now the Skirmisher’s emissary’s in ADVENT hands because of my calls.”

She shakes her head. “And if who I used to be was really so great, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Let’s put that blame squarely where it belongs.”

“Regan.”

“Bradford.”

He shifts. “Can I sit down?”

She nods, surprised. “Yeah, of course.”

She’s getting used to having him close again; it’s still not the old days, but it doesn’t ache the way it did at first.  She leans into the warmth of him before she can stop herself, too tired to weigh the consequences before acting. He hesitates for a moment, then wraps an arm around her. His hand settles gently on her hip, and she can make out the tremor --- a telltale sign that running the mission dry had, in fact, taken its toll.

“Outrider sent word to Volk. Sounds like his people are willing to look for a lead on Mox’s location, but we’ve gotta throw some manpower behind it, too.”

She nods. “We’ll send Zaytsev and one of the rookies. Should start getting them used to the field as quickly as we can. Recon should be low enough risk.”

“Agreed.”

“You did good, by the way,” she says. “Haven’t lost your talent for talking your way out of bad places.”

“Thanks.” He lets out a half-hearted chuckle. “But I wouldn’t go that far.”

She pauses for a moment, considering if she really wants the answer to the question buzzing in her mouth. “What did Volk say?”

It’s an act of masochism, and she knows it. Her performance on the mission may as well have confirmed Volk’s worst accusations --- allowing a soldier to be captured by the enemy, practically handing him over. Who would do that except a known collaborator?

He shakes his head. “Don’t know, but I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll handle him.”

“Thanks. I don’t think I’m ready for round two.”

He tightens his grip around her in a one-armed hug. “You don’t have to be.”

--

In the Common Room, Molchetti, Bernard, and Pukkila are hovering around an oversized pad of paper.

“No, no, you can’t do that. That’s too much.”

“What are you talking about? You can’t not include that.”

“Go ask Devorah; she’ll back me up.”

“Are you really bringing my girlfriend into this?”

“Mon dieu, you two.”

She has a bad feeling about this. “What’re you three doing?”

“Official Royston-Martin Marital Drinking Game,” Pukkila answers, never tearing his eyes from the paper. “We need a better shorthand for them,” he adds, distractedly.

“They practically live out of each other’s pockets now,” she says. “I don’t think marriage is gonna be too big an adjustment.”

“What’s your point?”

“You needed the shorthand months ago. What’s going on?”

“Martin’s father last night, Royston’s mother this morning,” Bernard says. “No respect for those of us trying to have our coffee without the sound of screaming.”

The Commander grimaces. “Oh no. So, they still haven’t acclimated to the idea, then?”

“That’s a fucking understatement, ma’am,” Pukkila groans.

“At least Mama Royston likes Martin,” Molchetti chirps. “She’s just worried about the timeframe.”

“Martin’s parents still don’t like Royston?” She asks.

“She’s not French,” Bernard explains. “She’ll never overcome that.”

“She speaks the language.”

“She speaks it well, but her birth certificate says ‘USA’ on it.”

“And if she got dual citizenship?”

 Bernard shakes his head. “She’s not from France. She’ll never be from France.”

She stares at him blankly.

“His parents are traditionalists. He’s broken protocol. They won’t get over it.”

“And coming up with a drinking game helps how?”

“It’s not for them,” Molchetti shrugs. “It’s for the rest of us.”

“To cope with the parental displeasure?”

“To cope with Stephanie ‘I don’t need a dress; I have pajamas’ Royston.”

“Royston’s turning down a dress? Our Steph Royston?”

Molchetti nods solemnly. “All this chaos has taken a toll.”

“And you’re all sitting here, coming up with the rules for a drinking game instead of grabbing her by the shoulders, and getting her to snap out of it?”

“Oh, please. I have four dresses coming for her to try on. I’m not letting her get married in pajamas.”

“I have … goods coming in,” Bernard says. “But I can’t tell you what.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Not live animals.”

“Not live animals.”

“And not fireworks.”

Bernard furrows his brow at her. “What do you Americans do at weddings?”

She nods. “Good. What about you?” She asks, turning her attention to Pukkila. “What’s your excuse?”

His cheeks grow bright red. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Pukkila.”

“It’s nothing bad.”

Her eyes dart from Molchetti to Bernard, mischief glinting in both of their eyes.

“If it’s not bad, then you can tell me.”

“Go on,” Molchetti says. “She’s not letting you off the hook.”

Pukkila caps his marker. “So, candles are a fire hazard.”

“Yes, yes, they are.”

“LED candles aren’t.”

“I don’t see where this is going.”

“You will.”

She cocks her head, looking among the three. “You’re really gonna play this one close to this chest, huh?”

They nod. 

“Alright,” she concedes “I can see when I’m not making progress.”

“So, you’re not gonna tell them about the drinking game?” Pukkila asks.

“No, but god help you all if the happy couple finds out.”

--

She finds Sally pacing the ship.

“You seem out of sorts.”

“I just … They just … She just grabbed him, and he was gone. Like, nothing. We didn’t even have time to react. They could do that to … to any of us. And there’s nothing anyone else could do.”

“We’ll get Mox back, Sally.”

“I know. I just … it’s scary. Knowing that they’re really out there.”

“You don’t have to go back in the field,” she says, slowly. “You don’t owe anybody anything. You can still make a difference here. You proved your point.” She shakes her head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do, though,” Sally shifts. “My family. I owe them. Someone has to keep fighting. It’s my job now.”

“Hey, no,” she says softly. “It’s not. It doesn’t have to be. It’s not about who you owe. Once you fall into the trap of living for other people, and forgetting to do what’s right for you, it’s hard to get out of. It leaves you too vulnerable.”

“To what?”

“Don’t you think it’s a little funny that a civilian was running a paramilitary org? Let alone one my age?”

Sally shrugs. “I don’t think you understand: I only ever had Central’s stories.”

The Commander shakes her head. “Growing up, I idolized my Uncle Mark. He was the only one who ever really treated me like an adult when I desperately wanted to be one. He took me seriously --- even when it felt like no one else would.” She pauses, brushing her braid over her shoulder. “He was the first one who ever got me interested in strategy and tactics. We’d sit together at parties and dinners and pick things apart. It was fun. And someone gave a shit about what I thought, what I had to say.”

“Uncle Mark had a friend teaching in the War Studies Department at King’s College London. When I wanted to go to grad school there, he put in a good word. I worked hard, sure, but I had a guardian angel it seemed. I thought it was just that I showed promise.”

“Well, I had to do something after I had my Masters, so I went off and got a PhD. Biodefense.” She rolls her eyes. “It sounded so glamorous. Bring together everything I had learned based on historical precedent with best practice in incident response to mitigate civilian casualties in the event of biological threat being unleashed.”

“You really did used to teach,” Sally groans.

Lizzie chuckles. “Well, lo and behold, my Uncle Mark had friends at the program at George Mason, too. Lucky me. Head of the department, even! I really thought it was me. I really thought it was my work that caught his attention.”

“What makes you think it wasn’t?”

“When they called me in, after Central turned down the command, I asked the what they were thinking. I wasn’t military. I was a civilian. And, in terms of commanding, a young civilian. What the hell could I offer?” She shakes her head. “The project head looked at me and said ‘Dr. Regan, you really don’t know?’” She shrugs. “It wasn’t me. Not really. All of those people, all of those chances … it was never me. Uncle Mark had worked with an organization called the Bureau in the sixties, under a man named DaSilva. So had his friends.”

She reaches for her braid, running her hands over it. “I was one of … I don’t know how many they’d groomed over the years. Once I took to it, it was all laid out. I was only special because I was the one who’d most ardently, most faithfully followed the path they put me on. I just wanted to make them proud, to be enough for them. Look at where it ended me.”

Sally contemplates this for a moment. “Would you have done anything different? If you knew?”

 “God, yes. I would never have gotten mixed up in this. There would have been someone else, someone who might have actually won. Don’t make your decisions for other people, Sally. At the end of it all, you’ll be the one to live with’em. There’s nothing wrong with getting off the field. Sometimes, it’s the bravest thing you can do.”

The younger Royston crosses her arms.

“Promise me you’ll think about it, alright?”

She nods, but the Commander knows a lie when she sees one.

[danatole-headcanons]

Ace, Andy, Kena, and Vic’s Danatole Kid Hcs

@melchirits

* THE KIDS * * helo naught xhildern, it’s danatole child time * THE KIDS: Fyodor(Theo) and Lucette (Lucy) Dolokhov-Kuragin * Dickle * every close friend/relative gets One Name to suggest * all of them are really good and considerate…………..until they go to balaga, a family friend * they tell balaga that he has One Chance……. And the name he choses is dickle * “ok balaga you have one shot at this, don’t fuck it up” * “ok ok hear me out. dickle.” * anatole is dying * dolokhov is having a heart attack in the background, im fucking wheeding * “ok but give me at least three chances” * “hear me out: succulent butterfly or FUCKING NUTMOBILE” “why’d you scream the second one?” “Because it should be in all caps” “get the fuck out” * “you had one chance, WE’RE NOT NAMING OUR GOTDAM SON DICKLE” * “but can the middle names spell dickle, what about troika” * “balaga please get out of our house it’s midnight” * “how about pikachu. Or ash ketchum.” * fedya, screaming from the background, heart attack paused: “YES” “i think i thought of the perfect name” balaga literally gets to anatole’s height by climbing him and whispers, “the loud THX noise from that one movie.”[a] * “name the child the THX noise” “balaga,,,,its been four days please leave” * he Won’t give up * Other balaga recommendations: * FUCKING NUTMOBILE * lucas steele, and variants * paul pinto * razor boy * succulent * marvin * paul pinto in khakis * lucifer * succulent butterfly * lampost * trash can * naruto * pikachu * ash ketchum * kukas steeke * THX noise * fursuit * (anatole kicks him out after that one) * ALSO * “fedya you are the father” * “so are you” * “oh shit true” * the first child (theo) grows up and learns that they were literally almost named fucking nutmobile and is ready to deck both balaga and their dads * balaga is like “im gonna teach your kid how to drive” * anatole astral projects while Everyone it holding fedya back from destroying balaga * balaga teaches the kid how to drive anyway bc fedya and anatole can’t stop him * so the kid gets pulled over by a cop the first time they drive (w/balaga) bc of course * the police person is just like “I KNOW YOU” and balaga screams “FLOOR IT” * “green means go, red also means go probably, yellow means speed up” * “balaga why is my kid crying” “,,,,,,,,,,reasons” * balaga calls theo dickle forever bc he can * Lucy has Fedya’s Determination and she does everything balaga does better * balaga cries into a wine bottle on the pavement * “balaga eating saltines and chugging wine on the sidewalk”~Quote from Ace * one time balaga takes lucy out for night lessons * fedya wakes up as this is happening and has a panic attack because “where is our kid oh dear god” * he literally sprints out into the driveway and balaga screams “FUCKING FLOOR IT” and lucy’s doing all sorts of pro maneuvers * while balaga ends up hanging on for dear life because “oh so this is what it’s like to be my passenger” * “lucy lucifer” * balaga has a corkboard full of parking tickets he never paid, he hoards them like trophies * (balaga voice) speed limit 420 haha nice

* “Balaga that says 42,,,” * “if i put four engines in my car,,,” * balaga owns a school bus that’s decked out like a monster truck * balaga works for uber AND lyft, like a double agent * one time he gets an uber and lyft at the same time so hes like fuck it and gets them both * fuzzy dice on rearview mirror * balaga’s car is named nutmobile & it has a nut sticker * balaga sleeps in his car in a walmart parking lot at night?? * on lucy’s first birthday balaga teaches lucy how to say fuck and fedya decks him in the street * balaga picks lucy up from school or something one day and he saw her and just yelled “HEY LUCIFER” * lucy whips around like YEAH FUCKASS WHAT DO YOU WANT, she was like 14 * BALAGA IS LITERALLY AT ANATOLE AND FEDYAS HOUSE ALK THE TINE AND HE IS JUST YELLING LUCIFER ALL GHE TIME AND FEDYA ID LIKE SHUT THE FUCK UP BALAGA * balaga runs like naruto * balaga was the babysitter literally all the time * balaga worked as a gym teacher for a month before getting fired * (“what’d he get fired for?” “nothing you can prove”) ~Andy and Ace * someone else parks in his parking spot and he just keys the car * balaga worked as a librarian for two hours before being fired for telling the kids to shut the fuck up * balaga never gets fired from uber no matter what * Review: 5/5. Almost died but i got to my destination, 30 minutes away, in 2 minutes. * “LUCY, HYPERDRIVE” * balaga has completely taken over anatole & fedya’s garage * they try to walk in one time like “is this is fucking dead rat” and he shoots them with a paintball gun and says “no this is covfefe” * Balaga goes as a gc egg shaker for halloween w the kids * “No you just hear the beads and then theres tiny egg man” ~Kalvin * “yeah the guy who lives in our garage uhhhh tiny egg man” ~Theo * lucy draws balaga and he says “hell yeah fanart,” hangs it up on like the ceiling of his car * when lucy and theo play mario kart she always chooses rainbow road * chooses monopoly for Family Game Night * “lucy please we’ve been playing for three days” “no it’s blond dad’s turn” * anatole’s dying on the floor, fedya’s crying, theo’s dissociating * theo’s a hide and seek master

*They watch Buzzfeed Unsolved * lucy & theo go ghost hunting, lucy’s humming the ghostbusters theme and theo’s shaking like a leaf in the corner with ten vials of holy water on him * “hey demons it’s me, ya boi” “LUCY NO” * “COME AT ME DEMONS!” “L U C Y P L E A S E” * Theo is Dipper Pines * lucy is always ready to Deck People (kalvin style) * lucy has a pokeball in her backpack to throw at people she doesnt like * the guys at school call her “hellraiser” and the girls call her “lucifer” * theo and lucy are Not Straight in the slightest * lucy is pan, theo is gay & ace, & also trans * lucy makes so many innuendos she got detention multiple times because of it * theo can play literally any instrument and spent his money on bookfairs in elementary school * Theo knows that anybody who plays violin is a basic bitch so he plays viola instead * “Fyodor jr.!” “Sorry dad, you’re basic.” ~Convo with Anatole * theo quickly become better at gambling than fedya, it switches from fedya letting him win to him actually getting demolished, fedya cries * lucy does the thing where it looks like you’re doing ballet but then you go over to someone and kick them in the face * lucy literally carries around a bag of glitter to throw on people when they say/do something stupid * lucy’s ringtone is the THX noise and it’s always so fucking loud * ippolit kuragin is the cool uncle but also cryptid * is a fashion designer in NY apparently * unrelated: (dolokhov voice) me me big anxiety * theo stans all the murder musicals * also is totally straight for phillipa soo * also stans all things LMM * lucy’s contact pick for Blond Dad is That anatole pic * lucy is team valor and theo is team instinct * fedya’s valor, anatole’s mystic (prettiest logo???), balaga’s instinct * everyone outs poor anatole for being on team mystic * “so uh anatole what team did you pick?” “mystic” “oh because they’re smart and stuff–” “no, they’re the most aesthetic * the kids are highkey competitive about pokemon * anatole does that thing where he does 600000 soft restarts to get a shiny starter * he REALLY LOVES alolan vulpix!! * lucy has an embarrassing collection of photos of anatole * Balaga insists on giving the kids The Talk * theo didn’t talk for a week after but it could have gone much worse * someone: so how’d It Go? * theo, shaking, looking up with the purest fear in his eyes: it could have been worse * balaga teaches theo to curse * also, someone @ theo : “fuck, i mean shoot! im so sorry!!” theo, drinking a glass of vodka: what the fuck you can swear around me i literally fuckimg 21 years old what the shit * theo, quietly: in the heights is better than hamilton * lucy, a floor down: EX-FUCKING-SCUSE ME * once lucy asked balaga “hey do you sell drugs” * and balaga was like “no why, do you need them? bc i can get you them” * everyone sees theo as the calm kid, but if you talk shit about his family he Will duel you in a denny’s parking lot @ 3am hamilton style * there’s always the option to go live in the garaga with balaga * Theo’s secret dating the Andreirretasha kid, Nico(lai) * They are the cutest couple™ * Okay some Mama Helene™ bs * Helene was the mom, Fedya was the dad * “Helene and Dolokhov arm-in-arm,” * Lucy looks like a mini Helene, Theo looks like a mini Fedya * The only difference between Helene and Lucy is while Helene has the green-hairpiece-thing, Lucy wears a mauve bow * On Lucy’s fourteenth bday, Helene bent down to eye-level, look soulfully into her eyes, and said this: * “Lucy, as my daughter, i feel as if you should have this..” * It’s a necklace that says “Bitch” * Lucy was 13 when she started her drunk text collection * On Lucy’s 16 bday, helene gave her her most prized possession * “Lucy, I want you to have this, I was going to give it to you later in life, but you’ve come so far already..” * She pulls out a book from her purse, written in fancy calligraphy on it are the words “Burn Book” * “Lucy this is everything that someone i know has done wrong, treat it with care…” * It was one of the only times lucy has ever cried * You bet your ass there’s an entire section dedicated to Anatole * “Anatole, age 1-6, Anatole, Age 7-10, Anatole, Age 11-13, Anatole, Age 14-18, etc” * Theres even some stuff about Cryptid-Uncle-Ippolit * “Hey dad? Remember when you and uncle Pierre tied to guy to a bear for shits and giggles?” * Theo is on the spectrum * Helene got him a fidget cube * He and Lucy do sibling costumes * Theo is a gangly mess of limbs like how does the kid function * Theo was cis-passing when he started dating Nico * When he told him he was trans, Nico just shrugged and kissed him alot * Yeah so I love these kids and might write a fic

[prophetparadox]

Birds of a Feather Chapter 18: Surviving (A Prompto x OC Soulmate AU)

Chapter 17 <-/AO3/-> Chapter 19

Masterlist

Word count: 2,386

Holy shit you guys. It’s finally here. The big reveal that I’ve been waiting to write since March. Now, I’m gonna be clear about this, so you don’t go into this, get to the end, and bombard me with questions. I HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THINGS. IT’LL ALL BE EXPLAINED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. THIS IS WHY I WAITED UNTIL AFTER EPISODE PROMPTO CAME OUT BEFORE WRITING THIS. ALSO, THE LAST LINE OF THE CHAPTER IS IMPORTANT IN ALL THIS. I’m sorry for the caps lock, but I just wanted things to be perfectly clear. Hopefully my foreshadowing for this was subtle enough, and if it wasn’t then at least I tried.

Tagging: @themissimmortal, @cupnoodle-queen, @nifwrites, @takuahijackedthetardis, @lunarlapin, @fujinhildr, and @mini-moogle-queen. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future updates!

Noctis groaned as consciousness finally returned to him. The events that had transpired before being knocked out played back in his head. He'd pushed Prompto off the train thinking he was Ardyn, Katia had jumped off after him. His two best friends were gone and it was all his fault. "Dammit." he muttered. He began to push himself back up, noticing the scenery had changed drastically. He had no idea how long he'd been out for, but there was no doubt that the train was far from where his friends were. With no clue what to do, he pulled out his phone and called Ignis.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Ignis, you've gotta stop this thing!" Noctis pleaded, the urge to cry in the back of his throat. "Prompto fell off the train. I pushed him-I mean, Ardyn made me. And then Katia she just, jumped off. I tried to stop her but I couldn't do it! I don't know where they are, but we can't leave them!"

"Stay calm, Noct," Ignis instructed. "I'm as concerned for Prompto and Katia as you are, but stopping the train would endanger everyone on board. We'd be sitting ducks for the daemons." Noctis knew he was right, but his panic was getting the best of him.

"What do we do?!"

"First we drop the passengers off at Tenebrae. We'll be arriving shortly."

"What about Prompto and Katia?!"

"Given the chancellor's involvement, it's probable they're no longer where we left them. In any case they may try to contact us. Let us wait and hope for now. Can you make your way here? Gladio is with me."

"Are the two of you okay at least?" He didn't want anything else to happen, not to them.

"Yes."

"Okay, I'm on my way," He looked up and saw daemons on top of the train. "I'll be there as soon as I take care of these stowaways!" As he fought, his mind kept wandering back to Prompto and Katia. He just hoped that Ignis was right and they were still alright.

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

Katia had no idea where she was going anymore. She was stuck in the middle of nowhere, was still injured, and it was getting colder and darker by the second. Even though her phone had survived the fall, she wasn't getting a signal. Which left her stuck out here with no way of letting Noctis know she was alright. And worst of all, there was still no sign of Prompto. No matter how she looked at things, the situation seemed hopeless.

Tears pricked the edges of her eyes. Why had she just jumped off the train like that? Ignis would've had a plan, they'd have made finding Prompto a priority for sure even if it wasn't an immediate one. But as usual, she did something without thinking it through. And now she had no idea if she'd ever make it out of this. Especially with night falling soon. She was in no condition to fight, she'd be easy prey for the daemons like this. She was going to die out here and no one would ever find her, all because of a rash mistake.

A soft blue glow on the edge of her vision suddenly gave her hope. She turned her head to face it and surely enough, there was a Haven a small ways away from the tracks. A small smile crossed her face, she wasn't dead after all. Thank the Astrals, she had a place to sleep that night. She rushed over there as fast as she could, the pain in her foot keeping her from running at top speed, and relaxed upon reaching the Haven.

"Okay, I have a place to rest tonight without being daemon food," she said, voicing her thoughts out loud. "Unfortunately, all my stuff is still on the train. So I need to figure out what I'm doing before it gets too dark."

She sat down, slowly dumping the contents of her pockets to see what she had on her. Aside from her phone, there was some gil from her solo time as a hunter, a pair of headphones, two potions, chips and candy she'd bought at the last train station, a vial of fire magic, and a small bottle of water. "Okay, at least I don't have to find food around here, wherever 'here' is. And I have a way to stay hydrated. Gotta make this last though until I reach some sign of civilization," She picked up the potion, held it over her knee and shattered it. The scrapes vanished, leaving only small amounts of blood that could be easily cleaned. "And now I'm in a better condition to fight, should I need to. I should save the last one for an emergency though." She stuffed everything back into her pockets, figuring she could save the food for when she needed it.

Remembering what Gladio told her about camping, she got the fire started and sat as close as she could to it. It was her only source of warmth, and she hoped it would last her the night. As she ate the chips, she looked back at her wrist, removing the wristband and looking at the feather mark. Her mind wandered to Prompto, what he must be doing right now and if he was okay. She knew he was still alive, she could feel it. She could feel his confusion and sadness more than anything. He still had no idea why Noctis pushed him off the train, or why she wouldn't come to him. She made a mental note to explain everything to him as soon as she found him.

She suddenly remembered something, something she hadn't done since she was a child. When she'd felt lonely, she'd started talking to the marking, thinking that maybe her soulmate would get some kind of reaction. And when she did do it, she'd start to feel the warmth, figuring that they'd tried to respond to her. It was a long shot, but maybe...

She touched her finger to the feather. "Prom? Can you feel this?" she said. "It's me. I don't know where you are or where I am, but I promise I'm going to find you. And then we'll find the guys again. So just hang in there, okay? I love you." She waited, figuring that it could take a moment for him to feel the warmth and realize what it meant. Just when she was about to give up, she felt the warmth for a moment and smiled. He got the message. He was okay.

She put her wristband back on and curled up to the fire. She shut her eyes, hoping that she'd be able to get some kind of sleep tonight.

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

"You know, you're really good at drawing."

Katia looked up from her drawings to look at the boy sitting next to her on the bench. The chubby young boy wasn't looking at her, preferring to look through his camera once again. She knew he'd been looking at her drawing, but was too shy to admit it. She blushed, not used to the compliment. "You really think so?" she asked.

"Mmhm. They're the best drawings I've ever seen," The boy responded, looking away from his camera and giving her a small smile. "In fact, I think they're better than my pictures."

Katia shook her head. "Nuh-uh! No way! They're not better than that! My drawings aren't that good..." She looked down at the one she'd been working on, a simple drawing of both of them holding hands and smiling. "Plus the teachers would say differently. They think I'm wasting my time."

"Well the teachers are wrong. You should keep drawing, it makes you happy. And I like seeing you happy. And if you keep drawing, you'll just get better at it." The boy snapped a picture with his camera. Probably a small animal that was in the park. He looked down at the camera in disappointment, whatever it was he'd tried to photograph had moved too fast.

Katia looked at the picture, then turned to look at his sad face. "Don't cry, you'll get it next time."

"I-I wasn't gonna cry! Honest!"

"You should keep taking pictures. I'll bet you'll be the best picture-taker in all of Insomnia if you do! We can both try our hardest to be the best there ever was!"

"You really think so?"

"We can try anyway."

"I-In that case, would you be a model for me? Someone I can take pictures of?"

Katia grinned, showing off her recently lost baby tooth. "Of course! You can take as many pictures of me as you want, because we're best friends! In fact, take a picture of me right now! I won't even move!"

"O-Okay..." The boy pointed the camera at Katia. She smiled, making a peace sign with her left hand. "Say cheese," The camera made a click, and he took the camera away to look at it. He smiled softly. "It looks great. Thanks Katia."

"Anything for my best friend!"

"I'm your only friend though..."

"So? I like being friends with you. You're not mean like everyone else is. You're nice to me and that's all that matters. As far as I care, you're the only friend I need, Prompto."

Prompto looked away, trying to hide the blush on his face. He muttered something, but Katia couldn't hear it. "I like being your friend too." he finally said.

The sound of bells echoed in the distance, and Katia already knew what it meant. "I gotta go home now. Dad's gonna be worried about me if I don't come home," She put her things away in her backpack and jumped off the bench. "You sure you don't wanna come over for dinner? Dad really wants to meet you, and I'm sure he'll make something you like."

Prompto shook his head. "No thanks. I live in the opposite direction anyway. I don't wanna go home when it gets dark."

"You could always stay over at my place. We can have a sleepover! It'd be fun!"

Prompto got off the bench. "It's a school night. We shouldn't be having a sleepover today."

Katia's face turned into a pout. "Awwwww, you always make up an excuse!"

"I'm sorry Katia, I'll come over some other time. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that promise! One day I'll get you to come over to my house!"

"Okay. See you at school tomorrow?"

"Of course! See you then, best friend!" She began to run out of the park, waving back to Prompto as she ran.

...

Katia woke up, the light of dawn shining in her eyes. The fire had gone out. She stood up, stretching her arms. She was surprised she slept so well for lying on the hard ground all night long; she was even more surprised by the nice dream she'd had. Or rather, the memory. She hadn't thought about that moment for so long, was it a sign that Prompto was still okay? She never really understood her dreams. With the sun's light shining through, she left the haven and went back to walking, her heart feeling lighter at the thought of the past.

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

Fog. Of course she had to run into fucking fog. What were the odds that things could go smoothly for once?

Katia'd been walking for what felt like a few hours now, she honestly couldn't tell and didn't want to risk using up her phone battery. Getting that sleep did her some good, but she was still in some pain and was worried about what might happen if she ran into something. Surely the station in Tenebrae couldn't be too far, she just had to keep going.

Suddenly, she saw a figure in the distance. The fog obstructed them from view, but Katia didn't care in that moment. In her mind, there was only one person it could be. Her heart racing, she ran towards them, eager to wrap her arms around them. The figure noticed her and began slowly walking forward. Katia stopped. She recognized that stride anywhere. That was not Prompto.

The figure came into view, his signature smirk plastered on his face. "There you are, my dear. I was starting to worry that the daemons had found you." Ardyn sneered.

Katia summoned her lance, holding it out in front of her to keep him at bay. "What the hell do you want?!" she shouted.

Ardyn chuckled. "So violent. Come now, put that thing away. You're in no condition to take me on. Besides, I'm merely here to pick you up."

Katia rose her eyebrow, her stance melting away. "Pick me up? The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm here to take you home."

Katia gritted her teeth, pointing the lance back at him. "My home is gone! Insomnia has fallen because of you!" Ardyn grabbed her left arm, causing her to drop the lance as it dissipated. How'd he move so fast?

"Oh Katia, you're so naive. Or perhaps I should be calling you 'Kat' now?"

"You have no right to call me that! What'd you do to Prom?!"

"You'll find out soon enough. Frankly, he doesn't matter right now," He looked at the wristband with a smirk. "You know, I was surprised to see you that day in Lestallum. I had assumed you'd perished in Insomnia. Yet there you were, alive and well, travelling with the prince and his entourage."

"What're you going on about?" Her eyes widened as she saw him remove the wristband from her arm. "WAIT, STOP, DON'T TOUCH THAT!"

"That name of yours, 'Katia Ferrum', did you come up with that name yourself or was it given to you?" He looked over the chocobo feather marking, as if he was studying it intensely. "No matter, it doesn't matter all that much I suppose. I'll have plenty of time to get what I want out of you anyway. I meant what I said though about your name being lovely. 'Katia' is a fitting name for you, but 'Ferrum' not so much."

He turned her wrist around, looking smugly at the sight of the barcode that spread across it. "Nonetheless, I do believe it's time we return to Niflheim, Ms. Aldercapt. Your true home is waiting for you."

[kaitymccoy123]

Backwards (p.t. 2)

(I loved this picture too much and thought it matched my story well so I am going to keep it the same for the 4 parts unless I find another one I like better.)

Intro: continuing my story from the other day.  I warned you it was long.  Still 2 more parts to goooooo. 

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 2,660

Triggers: eventual attempt at sexual assault (that will be in part 3 or 4), bullying.

Summary:  Reader is a botanist on the Enterprise who is bullied often and has low self esteem, and happens to run into Bones one day and develops a crush instantly (who wouldn’t, really?).  Reader works with Bones to save Spock from an injury from an away-mission.  The bullying gets worse as the story goes on and eventually leads to an attempt at sexual assault.  Reader gets away and doesn��t know who to turn to (maybe a certain friendly yet grumpy space doctor?).

ALSO: This story involves some real science/medicine (ex. Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation is a real thing) and some science/medicine that I kinda made up (ex. Seabaene is not a real thing).  Just go with it.  I think I got the Vulcan anatomy generally correct after a teeny bit of research but just roll with it.  thank. 

ALSO (p.t. 2): I have nothing against botanists I think they are amazing but the character is a little self-conscious about her profession. thank (p.t. 2)

Read Part 1 here: https://kaitysmitty123.tumblr.com/post/155975786442/backwards-pt-1

-Enjoy!-

Back in your room you cleaned off, blood boiling as you continue to hear your colleague’s mocking laughs and hurtful words ringing in your ears. Frustrated tears stream down your cheeks involuntarily.  

You were used to being teased, it was nothing new to you.  You were top of your class at the Academy, but top of your class in botany is much less noble than top of the class in engineering or medicine or command.  You had thought about joining one of the big 3, but engineering was too mechanical and cold, nothing living to be found.  And medicine was too intense, and though you didn't mind the guts and bodily fluids, seeing the medical team running around like they did was not something you wanted.  And command, well, there was no chance for that, as you could barely be heard in a group of 5 people let alone an entire ship and crew.  'Plant Freak' was your most regularly used nickname and you tried to convince yourself that it didn't hurt you, but it did. 

You sniffled and had just shimmied into a clean uniform when you heard an urgent knock at the door.  Your heart stopped and you hoped it wasn't one of the boys from the group looking for revenge.  You wiped the remnants of tears off your cheeks, but didn't have time to make your face any less puffy or red.  

Pressing the button to open the door you saw a crew member that you had never seen before, and she was wearing a crisp white uniform with a medical insignia, so you assumed she was a nurse.  Her alien features lit up when she saw you and began speaking desperately, 

"Lieutenant Y/N?" She asked, her eyes taking you in, puffy face and all. 

"Yes, that’s me." You responded, still confused about why she was here. 

"Dr. McCoy sent me; he needs you in the medbay immediately." She reported, speaking so fast you almost didn't catch what she was saying.  Your heart leaped up into your throat.  Leonard needed you?  You thought.  Was it something about the breakfast you shared this morning? You wondered but were suddenly jerked out of your thoughts as you saw the urgent look on the nurse's face. 

"What does he need?" You asked. 

"He didn't say.  He just said to come and get you and that it was an emergency."  She explained and motioned into the hallway for you to follow. 

"Yes, okay, well let's go." You blurted and followed her as she ran through the hallways to the medbay.  

The medbay looked a lot different than it had this morning.  People were buzzing around everywhere, but there was one room that most people seemed to be rushing in and out of.  

The nurse led you into that room, and you squeezed past the crowding mob of bodies until you saw what the commotion was about.  

1st Officer Spock was lying on one of the beds, a very large gash in his side, which was oozing green-black blood.  But what was really odd was that his skin was almost white, and you could see the veins and arteries traced under his skin, dark green lines spreading across his body.  The monitors were going crazy and you finally saw Leonard, barking orders at basically everyone.  He didn't look like the kind, gentle man you'd met this morning, he looked like what his title entailed, Chief Medical Officer.  Finally his eyes rested on you and he looked relieved as he rushed towards you, his eye contact only breaking to shout some more orders at some more people.  Once he reached you he placed a hand on your shoulder firmly. 

"Thank the stars you are here, Y/N.  I need you to do something for me." His eyes were kind but urgent, sweat glistening off his brow, and his hand on your shoulder shaking slightly.  

"What happened?" You asked quietly, eyes flicking to the prone officer on the bed.  You now suddenly saw Captain Kirk in the room by the window, his whole demeanor setting off a vibe of stress and anxiety, and it looked like he should be in a medical bed too.  His shirt was ripped and stained and he had blood dripping from a cut below his eye but he didn't seem like he noticed as he leaned over Spock, a desperate worrisome look on his face.  

"Kirk and Spock just came back from an away mission and Spock got shot with some weird alien hand-gun-thing that seems to be causing disseminated intravascular coagulation, but he is not responding to the medication."  Leonard explained frantically, almost speaking faster than the nurse had when she had come to your door.  He was about to continue when he saw your brows furrow. 

He sighed and continued, "disseminated intravascular coagulation is..."

"I know what it is, doctor," You interrupted, meeting his desperate eyes, "Spock is forming clots in every one of his blood vessels, cutting off blood supply to just about everything."

"Exactly," he said, removing his hand from your shoulder and looking back to the chaotic room, "I need you to get me some..."

"Seabaene." You finished his sentence for him, "Spock need Seabaene!  I have some in my lab!" 

You jumped up excitedly and Leonard's face lit up. 

"Exactly!  And we need it fast..." But before you heard the rest of his sentence you were running out the door, pushing people out of the way and sprinting down the hallway to your lab. 

You slid into the open doors of your lab and reached the supply room where you kept dried Seabaene, as well as one vial of a salve already prepared.  You grabbed two bags of the dried leaves and the vial and turned, sprinting out of the room and back towards the medbay.  

Adrenaline coursed through your body, your heart hammering in your chest and your hands shaking around the supplies but you made it back to the medbay without stopping, pushing past people again to get back into the room.

Spock looked even worse than he had when you left; the dark green blood vessels had spread and were even more prominent under his deathly white skin.  The monitor that showed his vital signs were going crazy and his heart rate was insanely fast.  

You spotted Leonard, looking both frazzled and focused at the same time, if that was possible.  

"Leonard!" You yelled and his head sprung up from examining Spock and his gaze locked on yours.  

You threw him the vial of salve over Spock and Leonard caught it easily, removing the cap as soon as it was in his hands.  

"That should work; just spread it on his skin, as much as you can." You instructed between breaths, willing your heart to slow down so you could focus.  

The doctor did just that and everyone became silent as they watched the monitors for signs of stabilization, but nothing happened.  Suddenly everyone's eyes were on you.  You froze, locking eyes with Leonard, his face frozen in an expression of intense thought, and you could tell his brain was elsewhere, trying to think of another way to save Spock.  

Captain Kirk broke the silence as he yelled, "Dammit Bones, DO SOMETHING!" 

Your were racking your brain, trying to think of alternatives and why this wasn't working.  You eyed the green blood oozing from his wound. 

"Dammit Jim, I am trying to think!" Leonard yelled back.  

"Well think faster!" Kirk yelled again, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.  

Leonard was about to respond when you realized what the problem was.   "He's Vulcan." You spoke up, your eye moving back and forth as you realized what was wrong. 

"Half-Vulcan, yes." Leonard responded, his head tilting questioningly as he was trying to figure out what you were getting at.  

"Seabaene works as it is absorbed into the skin, but don't Vulcan's have like a moisture-proof layer of epidermis or something?" You suggested, your mind desperately trying to draw from your lessons from the Academy.  

Leonard's eyes lit up and his face broke out of its frustrated glare, "RIGHT!" He yelled, his hands setting the vial down as he moved around the bed towards you. 

"So instead of topically it needs to be, injected directly into his bloodstream." You said.

"Injected directly into his bloodstream."  Leonard said at the same time as you.  

You looked up at him and smiled into his relieved face for a moment before turning and ripping open the bag of Seabaene.  

"Genius." He whispered and grabbed a solution for the both of you to begin preparing the injection.

The two of you worked in sync for a minute, Leonard handing you supplies and you prepared the injection.  

"Doctor! He's crashing!" A nurse yelled, and you heard the monitor screeching like crazy.  

Leonard turned around and surveyed the monitors. 

"How much longer until that solution is ready?" He asked, his voice tense, but not demanding. 

"Just a few more steps." You responded tersely, focusing all your energy on stopping your hands from shaking as you prepared the vial.  

"Well you better work fast." You expected him to be yelling at you, as he did with everyone else, but he spoke kindly, though there was a sense of urgency in his voice.  

"Almost done..." You whispered, finishing up the last few steps as you heard the monitor screech out a loud tone, which you know meant his heart had stopped beating. 

The room exploded into chaos and a crash cart was brought in, Leonard barking orders once more to everyone. 

"Don't shock him!" He yelled; to everyone's, including your, confusion.  

"What the hell, Bones, hasn't his heart stopped?" Kirk's voice sounded strained and pleading. 

"Yes, Jim, but it doesn't matter if we start it again if the blood that would be pumping out of it doesn't go anywhere because of the clots." Leonard explained urgently and suddenly you felt all eyes turn your way again.  

This was all on you.  The Seabaene was what was going to save Spock.  You gulped and quickly stirred the mixture together, pouring it into the hypo chamber.  The only sound in the room was the screeching tone of the monitor telling everyone that Spock's heart was still not beating.  

"Done." You stated as relief flushed through you, turning around and tossing it over to Leonard. 

The room was still tense as Leonard quickly injected the hypo into Spock's neck.  Nothing happened for a second and you felt tears prick your eyes again; you had failed, in front of the Captain, in front of the crew, and in front of Leonard.  You looked down at your shoes in shame. 

But then the screeching stopped and was replaced with a steady beeping.  You looked up at the monitor to see that Spock's vital signs were stabilizing.  The room erupted into cheers and hoots of triumph, and Leonard shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his hands over his face.  Kirk stepped over and patted Leonard on the back, looking especially happy, and they looked at each other in relief and gratefulness that their friend had survived.  Leonard began barking orders at the nurses, telling them to ready the OR for surgery to remove "all this god-damn shrapnel" from Spock's injury.  

You decided your job was done and smiled as you stepped backwards, directly into a firm yellow wall.  It was Captain Kirk.  You hadn't even noticed that he had come around to this side of the bed, and you turned to face him. 

"Sorry, Captain, I didn't mean to run into you like that." You said sheepishly. 

"No need to apologize Lieutenant, you just saved my 1st Officer's life and I couldn't be more grateful." Kirk grinned and gently patted your shoulder.  

"Thank you sir, it was an honour." You responded with a big smile. 

His crystal blue eyes sparkled as he said, "No, thank you, Lieutenant, and if you need anything, just ask, alright?  That's an order." He winked at you, his smile teasing and your heart leapt with pride. 

"Yes, sir." You responded, grinning ear to ear.  

Kirk left you to return to Spock's side and you left the room still smiling like an idiot.  

"Y/N, wait!" You heard a voice call behind you as you were about to leave the medbay.  

You spun around to see Leonard's face just moments before he wrapped his arms around your waist and nearly lifted you off the ground in a big bear hug.   You involuntarily wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him back, and as you pulled apart he planted a rough kiss on your cheek. 

"You were brilliant back there!" He exclaimed, his smile wide and beautiful, his hands still resting on your hips as if it was instinct to keep them there. 

"Nah, I believe that would have been you." You teased, returning his smile, your hands resting on his forearms gently.  

"Seriously, though, I couldn't have done it without you, darlin'." He gushed. 

"Thanks, Leonard." You replied, and you felt the flame that ignited this morning getting even brighter the longer you stared into his eyes.  

A flash of blue outside the medbay doors caught your eye and you glanced over to see a few of your mean classmates from the incident in the mess hall standing there.  They were all making googly eyes, winking and making obscene gestures at the scene that had just played out in front of them.  

Your heart dropped and your elation at the recent events plummeted.  You pulled away from Leonard's hold on your hips and dropped your hands to your sides.  You looked back up at Leonard to see that he had followed your gaze outside and was now glaring darkly at the group.  They disbanded quickly and went on their way down the hall.  

Leonard looked back at you, but as soon as your eyes met you dropped your gaze to the floor and your arm reached over to grasp your other elbow.  You began to fold inwards on yourself.  

You could tell he wanted to say something and was about to when someone yelled that the OR was ready for Spock.  He hesitated and his hands moved forward as if he was going to touch you again, but another call from across the medbay sounded and he dropped his hands to his sides. 

You finally lifted your eyes to his, his face full of concern and unsaid words, but he pursed his lips and turned and ran back towards the OR.  

You were left standing there feeling empty, willing that sense of pride and elation to return.  You had just saved Spock's life for stars-sake!  The Captain himself thanked you for your valiant effort.  And Leonard had hugged you and kissed you on the cheek.  But a sense of uncertainty made you feel empty, as if the most recent events didn't actually happen.  You could only think of the ridicule and torture you would have to face every time you saw your classmates.  

You decided to return to your quarters and spend the night in; giving yourself the evening off from work because you thought you deserved it.  This day had been a roller coaster of emotions that was foreign to you.  You liked everything to be the same, day after day, and you had gotten into a routine on this beautiful ship.  All the emotions flooded through you now, from happiness at having breakfast with Leonard, to humiliation at lunchtime, to adrenaline and fear as they tried to save Spock's life, to elation at actually saving his life, to just emptiness after it was all over.  

You curled up in your bed, feeling all these things, sleep overtaking you surprisingly quickly.  

-Thanks for reading!  P.t. 3 will be posted tomorrow!  Goodnight! -